Words by Rosa Villa
“The artists’ role in society is to point out nuances of the human condition that most people miss while they’re on their grinds.”
When she’s not on her grind, artist Kelly Breez invites locals to gawk at her animated collection of derriere bookshelves and hanging aphorisms. At her solo exhibition at Primary Projects, aptly titled “Fuck it Will Set you Free”, viewers are greeted by continuous yet unconnected pieces, suspended against a backdrop of white walls.
In keeping with her mantra, Breez avoids taking herself too seriously. While wood acts as her canvas, the human stream of consciousness acts as her primary medium. She blends psychedelic sketching with absurd imagery: “Just think, no matter how bad things get, at least Three Six Mafia won an Oscar.” Breez lines the walls with a road map of her mind, highlighting the chaotic and absurd magnificence of being alive. She tells the viewer that art has an obligation to help us understand ourselves better (and if we can chuckle in the process, then all the better!).
Breez explains: “my art is really graphic, sarcastic, slightly crass, and vulgar. Those are some themes I tend to be drawn towards. Coming from a technical standpoint, I gravitate toward things that are really heavy on brush strokes and look really painterly and hand-drawn.”
Like our minds, Breez’s art works are anxious, unfiltered, and mystifying. Amusingly, Breez reacts to the “how-to” culture that seeks to prescribe its readers a functional manual on living. “How to remain Zen while waiting for a representative to assist you” and “How to bounce the fuck back” are craftily embossed on book–like cut outs, hung in perfect alignment along several first editions.
Her pieces could perhaps best be described as ideal fixtures to hang in a creative office, design studio, or in the bedroom. Her art is multi-faceted: it can simultaneously fit in both public and private spaces, while offering subversive visuals that tell us it’s okay to chuck the rule book.
She grooves to her own tune unapologetically. In the words of Charles Bukowski, “there’s no lie in her fire”.
Here’s what else Breez has to say:
What themes do you pursue?
I like to think my work is the visual manifestation of corner-store-culture, with humorous and political undertones.
Where did you study art? And do you think that to be an artist, one should study it formally?
Not so much. My family is full of artists so I started getting interested in art at a young age. I paid close attention to the children’s books I would read and all of the illustrations in them, which I think was the earliest art education and major source of art inspiration I received.
I got into a lot of different kinds of art on my own in the beginning of college when I started taking it more seriously and became more interested in being more technical with rendering things. That being said- I don’t believe that in order to be an artist you need to study it formally.
Some of my biggest art heroes are “folk” artists like Henry Darger and Grandma Moses, both of which have wild imaginations and were extremely driven to make large quantities of art. They never went to school.
I feel like sometimes taking your passion into a formal setting and taking in so many opinions from teachers and other students can actually squelch a lot of that raw drive that most artists naturally possess. Oh and I went to college at New World School of the Arts here in Miami.
What is your weirdest creative ritual?
There’s a lot that occurs behind closed doors when I’m in the studio, buzzing around to different desks and projects acting like a total psychopath. I can have a pretty short attention span sometimes, so I like to skip around through different music videos before I start drawing. They anchor me to one chair, get me a bit more focused on the goal and are a muse of mine. I really like watching movies and shooting film, so for me they almost seem like extensions of drawings. Plus I like to blast the jams while I’m working. It’s a slick 2-4-1.
What jobs have you worked in other than art?
I worked in production for a while when I was living in San Francisco. I was in the art department and I loved it. I started out interning for a guy that owned a prop house. We’d ride around in his truck going from set to set. He walked me into the industry because I found him, wouldn’t take no for an answer and he appreciated it because someone did the same thing for him. I ended up working on quite a few commercials, a couple of shorts and one very fun indie movie where I was the prop master/set decorator.
In your opinion, what’s central to the work of an artist?
You have to pay attention to EVERYTHING. Being a sponge to your environment always keeps you wanting to make more work. It’s also what gives you your specific visual language. No other artist on earth is going to have a point of view like yours because you’re the only one living it.
What’s your favorite art work?
Old liquor store signage.
Name three artists you would like to work with.
Solange, Monica Canilao, Hype Williams.
What time period inspires you the most?
I am a total junkie for British time period dramas. I love that no one has cell phones or laptops and no one is talking about technology other than the occasional eggbeater. I love that they all really soak up what each other are saying and they’re super present in their interactions. On a visual level though- i’d say the late 70s and early 80s are the absolute best. I am always trying to visually exist in that space, or at least pull references, colors and vibes out of it.
What wouldn’t you do without?
What do you dislike about your work?
That it hasn’t pissed off Donald Trump yet.
What do you like about your work?
It is always teaching me things about myself I didn’t realize.
What’s the best piece of advice you’ve been given (creative or otherwise)?
My Dad told me once if you can’t picture yourself doing something that you’re doing now in five years, that you’re wasting your time and to move on. That’s definitely kept me on a path.
What superpower would you have and why?
Middle school me would say I’d be able to melt into a puddle like Alex Mack (because lets be honest she’s the queen) but now I’d say being able to speak any language would obviously have its benefits and be very rad. Being able to (literally) understand other people is essential to always being able to learn new things and have your bubble of existence expanded by cultures other than your own.
Poet Dave Landsberger culminates his day shooting a poetry-themed remake of 2 Fast 2 Furious with a reading and party at Primary Projects in the Design District.
Landsberger and guests read poems commemorating the death of Paul Walker and other tributes to the Fast Franchise inside of a white Ferrari, generously donated by Lou La Vie, Miami’s Premier Exotic Car Rental Agency.
Get a limited edition “2 Poetry 2 Ferrari” zine with the purchase a special ticket, or get a copy the night of (assuming supplies last) by purchasing Landsberger’s debut collection, Suicide by Jaguar.
After the reading, TURN ON THE AFTER-PARTY-BURNERS with ice cold “NosTails” and an original “Fast” playlist dominated by Ja Rule & Ludaaaaaaaaa.
Sponsored by Lou La Vie, Miami’s Premier Exotic Car Rental Agency
Join us for an evening of good drinks and great conversation as the Institute of Contemporary Art, Miami and Primary present “Collecting 101”, A conversation with industry professionals Jimena Guijarro of Guijarro de Pablo Art Consultants, Valentina Garcia of Phillips Auction House, & Cristina Gonzalez of Primary. Beginning to collect comes with many questions, here is your opportunity to meet on a level playing field and learn more about your first, second, and third steps to building that amazing collection you have always desired. Cocktails provided by Concrete Beach Brewery.
Words by Jordan Reyes
“Good Conversation” is the culmination of everything that Snakehole do best. The Miami / Philadelphia noise-rock duo — comprised of singer-drummer KC Toimil and singer-guitarist Autumn Casey — makes abrasive music, and “Good Conversation” is one of the duo’s meaner songs. Though it’s a familiar, memorable track to anyone who’s seen the band live in the last few years, it sounds even bigger recorded, thanks in part to Ben Greenberg’s studio wizardry.
The song begins with Casey’s swamp metal riff before being joined by Toimil’s pummeling rhythm. It proceeds in a slow build towards wonderful cacophony, all the while keeping a firm beat on the duo’s signature, maddening, noisy miasma. “Good Conversations” is almost a microcosmic effigy to new LP Interludes of Insanity as a whole. It’s got a great riff, a shit-ton of anger and controlled chaos — in short, everything you’d want from a Snakehole tune, except it sounds fucking massive this go-round.
Interludes of Insanity is out March 23 on Wharf Cat Records.
Words by Tim Scott
Though I’ve not experienced Churchill’s Pub, I’ve heard a lot about the Florida music institution located in Miami’s Little Havana. Since 1979, the bar and venue, that many call the CBGB of the south, has hosted some wild musical acts and some wilder times. Autumn Casey and KC Toimil have spent many late nights at the bar as employees, customers and bandmates. Their band Snakehole, has played Churchill’s countless times and the place’s noisey din of the place seeps into their new album Interludes of Insanity.
Recorded by Ben Greenberg (Uniform, Mission Bubble) in Hudson, New York’s Waterfront Studios, the album has Autumn and KC plugging into some hefty noise that leans on feedback but also melody. This is a noise punk power trip that is remarkably listenable.
Piano compositions that peaked through on their self-titled 12″ are given more light on “Interlude Pt. 1” and a strange, almost eerie tone floats between the cracking and loud experimentation.
Take a listen below and read a conversation we had with KC and Autumn.
Noisey: How much does your sound owe to the humidity and closeness of a Miami July?
It’s not quantifiable but it’s definitely present. A swamp vibe does seep in every now and then, and we’ve written songs inspired by our proximity to tropical insects. The song “Izardus” was written in KC’s backyard while lizard watching.
Do you spend much time in the Florida Keys?
As much as we can! We recorded a music video down there at KC’s family’s house, where Satan comes to corrupt us in a wholesome environment. KC had a couple secret shows down there, where only a handful of people would be invited. We also love to just go down there and chill and go to the Caribbean Club.
The band is now split between Miami and Philly. Why is that?
Autumn fell in love and had to relocate. KC is still holding it down in Miami. We are both independent forces and make it work when we come together, and we have been able to visit pretty often. And we hope that having dual bases will present us with more opportunities.
Your sound has changed over time too right?
Yeah, in an ironic twist, the more we learned to play and get comfortable with our instruments and each other, the less cohesive and more wild we became. We also started off touring with Rat Bastard and we would always play noise/experimental shows, and that for sure influenced us to experiment more ourselves.
What is your craziest Churchill’s experience?
We’ve both have been hit in the face by flying shrapnel. KC got hit by a chair during a Cock ESP set, Autumn got hit right between the eyes by (I don’t even know what that was) during a Laundry Room Squelchers set.
One night, towards the end of the original owners tenure, was especially nuts. Autumn was bartending and a full on riot ensued. People were tearing at the walls as if the Titanic was going down and Churchill’s paraphernalia were the life preservers. Over the years we’ve seen our fair share of nudity, fires, rats, possums, explicit drug use, motorcycles in the building, bodily fluids.. etc. We should write a book.
I like the track “Good Conversation”. What makes for a good conversationalist?
Thanks! This was actually the first song we wrote for the album. It’s about social media, and sometimes because of it the lack of good conversation. The lyrics basically talk about being connected in fear and vanity to a network of people and questioning whether or not you have a pulse. It’s also about the good musical conversation we love to share with each other. So maybe to be a good conversationalist you should pick up an instrument.
Words by Sara Blazej
Autumn Casey is a visual artist and musician whose oscillating practice moves between collage, sculpture, and video. Her physical works consist of found items laden with cultural and personal significance that are assembled into poetic groupings from which associative meanings emerge. In placing the precious and the pedestrian into conversation with each other and the viewer, she subverts her own economy of materials and question notions of subjective object literacy.
One of the few artists I’ve known from Miami to dig in and set up shop in the city of tropical transience, C
asey has developed a successful creative practice, most recently evidenced by her solo show Balancing Infinity at Primary Projects, which closed last month. Since graduating from New World School of the Arts in 2011, she has been influential in shaping Miami’s underground art and music scene, notably leading one of BFI’s infamous Weird Miami bus tours, which located sites of wealth disparity and highlighted artistic uses of spaces in decay. Casey has exhibited at MoCA North Miami and The Perez Art Museum (PAMM), among other institutions in Miami, New York and Philadelphia. Running alongside her art practice is her band Snakehole, which launches its new record on March 31 at Silent Barn in Brooklyn. We met up for coffee in the Lower East Side to discuss her process, practice, and finding the balance in it all.
Why do you choose to mainly work with sculpture and collage?
A lot of times I find that my work is very reactionary. Depending upon situations, given materials, and often self-imposed limitations, I tend to carve something out from what’s available, which in a way is a self-portrait. I think I like to work with sculpture and collage because they both allow me to combine disparate objects, time periods, feelings, and memories to form something succinct that allows me to reflect something extremely personal, and at the same time offer it up in a more democratic or universal playing field. By using what’s available to many, I display my subjectivities through the selection and combination process.
Do you ever incorporate your dance background into your practice, or make any other performance work?
I’ve done a few performances in the past. I screamed really loud at all the (Miami) art fairs one year. That piece was called Cicada, named after the magical bug that comes up from the earth and screams. I felt that was a pretty fitting metaphor for Art Basel – it’s once a year, when all these things and people are coming to the surface to scream and get attention. Also it’s kind of about being an artist and feeling the pressure like you need to do something. So I was like, “What if I literally just screamed?” I did it a few times: I did it at the Vernissage, I did it at Art Miami and I did it at NADA. I just screamed really loud and then made a quick exit.
Were there any incidents with security?
At Art Miami I got asked to leave. And I had people asking if I was okay. Everyone’s reactions were so different: some people would be scared, some people would clap afterwards, and some people would laugh. And then it was like, “Back to the next thing.”
“Back to business.”
Yea. And in regard to incorporating dance into the work, I do get really physical sometimes. With my sculptures, a lot of it is about balance. It’s trying to make weird things actually balance. Sometimes I’m squatting, sometimes I’m hunched over for a while just balancing the thing.
So, in balancing objects in your studio, you’ve noticed a vocabulary of postures emerge that recall your dance training, like holding various ballet poses for long amounts of time. Sounds like a very elegant endurance performance. Have you ever recorded yourself working?
I took some pictures once. I’ve also filmed myself in a video when I was getting rid of all my shoes. Sometimes I feel like after I do something, I need to go do the opposite of what I just did, to not ever conform into like one thing. My last show, Balancing Infinity didn’t have any videos, and now lately I’ve been working on a lot of music videos.
For your own music?
I have in the past, but right now I’m doing one for Nick Klein. It’s a track for that L.I.E.S. comp. It’s pretty fun to make a techno music video. There’s so many beats, so many chances to click the blade button, you know?
Totally. How did you come to direct a Snoop Dogg / Boys Noize music video a few years ago?
The gallery I work with, Primary, are friends with some of the people involved in Boys Noize’s management troupe. They told me that Boys Noize and Snoop Dogg would be in Miami and they were looking for someone to do a music video. It just so happened that Alex (Ridha, of Boys Noize) was looking for something more artistic and with a gritty underground vibe, so I kind of fit what he was looking for. It was a dream come true. I built the set, directed, filmed with my iPhone, and edited the video. It was so much fun.
How do you balance your own band, Snakehole, with your art practice?
That’s an interesting balance because Snakehole is very cathartic – well, art’s cathartic too, but the band is very cathartic in a way where I’m physically screaming – sometimes even to tears. It’s where this rage gets to come out and it’s very unbridled, whereas my art is a lot more delicate and composed and balanced. It’s kind of like a ying yang.
How do you source the materials for your sculptures?
I usually just go for things that I’m instinctively attracted to. And then it lives with me and hibernates with me until I can figure out how I want to interact with it or how I’m going to make it come to life.
Once you live with this collection of things, what informs the process of putting them together? Is this also mostly instinctual or is it based in formal composition?
It’s a little bit of both. Sometimes it can happen really fast, like I’ll bring something home and immediately know it belongs with this other thing I’ve been saving for a while. Or I’ll see something and I can automatically see what I want it to do. It’s an ebb and flow of these interactions.
How did you apply this intuitive process to your show Balancing Infinity, in which the pieces are based on specific tarot cards? Did you have to adapt to accommodate the “prompt” of the card?
Well, I would let them make themselves and then I would figure out which card it was. For instance, I didn’t set out to make the Chariot. Me friend was like, “I found these two horses on the road and I thought this would be good for you, for the Chariot.” So I painted one white, and in that way it was kind ofguided in that direction.
I love what you did with The Hermit.
I like that one a lot. The Hermit was kind of an accident. I bought that clown just to cut off his arms. I wanted his arms. But he just had such a funny posture so I just painted him black and put him in the corner. The Hermit is about being alone with this little light that’s yours and you’re just mesmerized by it.
How did you receive your first tarot deck?
I got it at a Christmas party. We were doing Yankee Swap, and I picked a gift and no one tried to steal it from me. Then the guy who brought it to the party came up to me afterward saying, “It’s weird, I kind of had you in mind when I brought this gift.” So that was weird. I would diddle around with them a little at first and then my relationship with them grew.
Were you interested in any kind of esoteric tradition before that?
My grandmother grew up in show business and she would say, “All we did was talk about astrology” – in show business. So growing up with her, wherever we went she would ask someone their birthday – the whole thing. We didn’t go to church, we were really raised with astrology. Like my mom’s version of our church was watching Touched by an Angel on Sundays. But that’s the closest I would get to esoteric traditions. The cards would reference certain astrological signs, so it was like a gateway.
So what are your sun moon and rising signs?
Pisces sun, Cancer moon, Libra Rising, Venus is in Aquarius
That’s a very gentle triangulation.
My friend Tatiana, who’s a psychic, says I have a trine in water. Apparently, if you have a trine in something it means you’ve mastered that sign. It make sense that mine would be in water because that’s like emotions and I’m very sensitive to emotional vibrations.
Do you know a lot of psychics?
I just know this one lady. I went to Honduras with her back when the world was going to end in 2012. I was working at Churchill’s and she came in and could tell I was fucking over it and she was like “You should come to Honduras with me for winter solstice.” And I was like, “Okay. I will.” And so I quit my job and went to Copán and we watched the sun rise on the top of a pyramid. It was good.
Did anything magical happen?
I swear I saw something…it was a little glimmer in the sky.
What was it?
I don’t know, apparently it’s the center if the Milky Way! She was like, “If we watch the sunrise on December 21st, the planets will be aligned and you’d be able to see the center of the Milky Way.”
Whoa, and you did.
I saw the glimmer.
You saw the glimmer. You mentioned that working with collage and sculpture allows you to combine time periods, feelings and memories – kind of commemorative in a way. Is articulating those memories to the world – by making them physical or visible – a way of immortalizing them?
That’s how I describe that video I made of my nana, and it was like “this would be to immortalize her.” And it was something that was so personal, and yet I’m sharing it with people, you know, it’s also about just trying to be honest with myself.
That video was so beautiful. I still think about it, two years later. I saw it was just acquired by the Perez Museum – congratulations on that.
Thank you, it was pretty wild. To make that video was to immortalize her memory, and now that she’s in the permanent collection of the PAMM, it really takes it one step further, to this extra place. Now my nana will live forever in a lot of people’s memories.
What is it like for you to practice art in the current political climate? Especially making work that’s so tethered to emotionality and lived experience, have you drawn inspiration from it? Has it presented any challenges?
It’s hard for the nightmare that is the current political climate to NOT seep in. I have noticed that things have taken a more sinister, darker turn, however subtle they might be. Lately, at times, it seems harder to engage with my art practice because it’s easy to start to feel helpless when everything seems like it’s going to shit and it feels miniscule compared to all that’s going on. But then you realize you just feel crazier by not engaging in your art practice. Like its the only thing that can start to keep you sane. And then from there hope to make something meaningful that can reflect and speak to the current situation, and create community around it as well. The anger that I feel comes out in a more visceral and direct way when I play music, and from that- it’s definitely a source of inspiration, something to react fiercely against.
Meet Miami’s finest master, a true Contemporary genius, whose experiential and interactive works are subsequently hanging on the walls and gracing the collections of some of the world’s most influential art collectors.
At fifteen years old, Michael Andrew Gran was not the typical Miami boy. He had major aspirations and dreams. Most kids of that age look forward to a crazy party life, mixed with a great college education followed by a future of a 9 to 5. However, Michael, who is known as TYPOE among the vast international community of fashion designers, artists and collectors, well, he was a gentleman whom had his very own vision.
In becoming the hugely successful artist that he is today, TYPOE’s approach to conquering the contemporary art market was not that of the average master of this generation. He believed in teaching himself through self-education, sharing “I really wanted to learn the world. I did not believe in going to school and paying someone to show me the way people did it. So, I dove face first into my personal and extensive collection of art books,” and the rest is history.
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Meet TYPOE, the critically acclaimed thirty-three year old, with a story to be desired, and a man with dreams that have not only become his reality, but surpassed all of his, and our, expectations.
TFB: TYPOE, tell me about how this all began. Where did you study and learn the tools to become the artist that you are today?
Typoe: I didn’t go to college I felt like if I went to college, I would be doing a safety job. I was always infatuated with the old masters’ ways of doing things. I had a fascination with a Belgian artist named Jan Van Eyck from the 1390’s. I had also decided that I really wanted to learn the world through experiencing it. I did not believe in going to school and paying someone to show me the way people did it. I went and bought the old books, and I have an art library. A local artist Tao Rey taught me early on not to reinvent the wheel nor recreate the same sort of works as everyone else.
TFB: So, has creating art been your only job in life? When you were young was it all that you wanted to do?
Typoe: No, it is actually funny. Growing up in Miami, I worked in various jobs, like in construction. I also worked at Don Pan, and even at Parrot Jungle for one day, but I quit. I sold furniture for two years at West Elm. I also volunteered with DFYIT, a drug-free youth program in town, and mentored middle school kids on how to paint murals. I explained how important it is to be an artist without getting fucked up.
TFB: How beautiful that you give back to the local community! Tell us about your sobriety.
Typoe: I have been Sober for thirteen years. To me, helping kids, helps me with my sobriety. When I got sober at the age of twenty, that was when I got serious with my work. I realized I had purpose, and the meaning of life had become so different
TFB: And have you always lived in Miami?
Typoe: Miami was a different world. I nearly moved to New York City, but I ended up staying because I love Miami SO much.
TFB: So considering you are a local of the Magic City, what galleries here represent your work, and speaking of your work, aside from art, tell us about the TYPOE collaborations.
Typoe: I am a free agent, so I have no representation. It has been so amazing, I have been commissioned by private clients to art dealers from different cities, so I am just working on constantly creating.
Regarding my collaborative projects in fashion, they were all unique and I loved every single project. I love what I did with Del Toro, where I designed a dress shoe with him in 2014 and that led me to a few projects that are in the works. Getting into fashion and having brands interested, is what keeps me going. Oh, and fresh off the press, I think you must know that I have a sneaker coming out in the near future with Haitian designer Fabrice Tardieu.
TFB: TYPOE, over the past years, you have been doing many projects with the hottest family in the hospitality world, the Alan and Ximena Faena. You first worked together in Miami than in Argentina and most recently at the Faena Art Center during Art Basel. Tell us ALL about it!
Typoe: The first project I did with the Faena’s, was at their property called Casa Claridge on Miami Beach. I took the opportunity to recreate the stuffy elevator experience by outfitting the entire space in iron, so it was magnetic and so, I covered it with magnets. I believe in engagement and playful experiences. As people played, they would leave messages, and future people who would enter, would see it.
After the elevator project, they asked me if I wanted to do a solo show in Buenos Aires. I was like ‘why are you even asking me, you know its yes?!’ (he hysterically laughs). When I saw the space I knew what would go in there.
TFB: OH WOW! A solo show. Superb! How long did the project take to execute?
Typoe: The whole project took five months, and I fully understand what the term ‘it takes a village,’ means.
It was a really awesome experience. I had met the right people, and everything fell into place. The platform they gave me made me feel majorly accomplished. I finally got to execute my work on a scale that I had dreamt of, and until you can actually create your works on a massive scale that they afforded me, you just never understand it.
My show in Argentina had a huge purpose, which was to respond to the world. Currently, it is off. A big problem is how we learn and retain info. As children, we learn, a lot of information. Some are right, and some are wrong, hence my building blocks. The whole point is learning how to play with space, interact with others, create and live. Many people get lost early on and take too much or don’t work together. Not to be an asshole, but people can be fucked up, and it is the parents’ responsibility. Like, if your parents are racist, you may be too, and especially in the times we are living in today, it is SO important for us to educate. I created an adventure for adults, so people can go on a journey of self-discovery and reflect and respond to their world. How do they choose to build it?
My exhibit also consisted of Ravens and tombstones, hourglasses, to reference life, time and death, referring to ‘what the fuck am I doing with my life.’ It was the first time that I have gotten any sort of political view out. My work had been more personal. It is my voice and what I have to offer.
TFB: So, back to Miami, tell me about your Art Basel project.
Typoe: The Faena’s asked me to design a functional space at the Faena Bazaar. I had never created a space that was catered around eight brands, and so that was a whole new experience. It was all around fascinating because, by nature, I am a collaborator. This is why I like working with brands, teams, people, other than myself.
TFB: So what is happening now?
Typoe: I am here in my studio is in little Haiti and I just renovated my new house, so I am in the nesting phase with my rescue pup Emma, who is the best assistant ever!
I am currently working on a few new things, including a new series and some commissions. I am also just creating works, in the form of sculpture, light boxes, text, and it is all exploratory, not for a show but for myself.
TFB: And last but not least, explain a bit about your role in Primary Projects.
Typoe: Primary Projects, a gallery owned by a group including Cristina Gonzalez, Books Bischof, and myself. I am a partner, and work mostly with the artists and on shows, but we all work on it together. Our paths cross between creative, business and vision. Right now we are working with Kelly Breez, a female artist who is local and her show opens this month. She has a show at Locust Projects, that is also opening at the same time as ours. It is across the street and we will all work together as a community.