https://www.artforum.com/picks/curriculum-spaces-of-learning-and-unlearning-78807 March 1, 2019 NEW YORK “CURRICULUM: spaces of learning and unlearning” ​ EFA Project Space 323 West 39th Street 2nd Floor January 16-March 16 Sarah Zapata, To Teach or Assume Authority, ​ ​ 2018–19, natural and synthetic fibers, pine, dimensions variable. Self-care is not what it used to be. Before it was a neoliberal mantra, it was a demand—for the recuperative space and time necessary for the reclamation of those subjectivities that have historically been erased. Mining affects such as color, atmosphere, and ritual, the works in “CURRICULUM: spaces of learning and unlearning” offer alternative networks of care and collectivity in response to, and in place of, institutions. Christen Clifford’s sculpture WE ARE ALL PINK INSIDE: Interiors, 2018, resembles a halved tent. Its ​ ​ ​ soft-pink video projections of corporeal interiors and smooth surfaces offer fleeting respite. Those who crawl inside might feel momentarily secure, but they remain exposed—to the rest of the gallery, yes, but also to themselves, as their reflections are distorted in the work’s Plexiglas sheets. Sarah Zapata’s ​ ​ shaggy, handwoven monument, To Teach or Assume Authority, 2018–19, looks like an edifice overtaken ​ ​ by Technicolor moss. It invokes ancient Peruvian ceremonial architecture and engages with ideas surrounding collective making, feminized labor, and precolonial spirituality. Lukaza Branfman-Verissimo’s Altar Objects, 2017, an arrangement of items including candles, dice, and ​ ​ ​ a stack of manifestos, is a shrine to the joy and salubriousness of the color yellow, which, for the artist, also conjures a brightness capable of blotting out the murkier aspects of structural violence. In her photograph Storyteller 2, 2017—which hangs above the sulfur-hued sanctum like a religious icon—a ​ ​ person cradles an image of figures draped in gold, embracing one another. These layers of enfolded bodies, linked by touch and lemony hues, represent a psychic and iconographic system of support and comfort. With Hormonal Fog, 2016–18, a sculpture that diffuses testosterone-suppressing botanicals in ​ ​ a heady cloud, Candice Lin and Patrick Staff seek to alter our bodies at the molecular level. For the ​ ​ ​ ​ artists in this exhibition, learning must necessarily be transgressive, haptic, porous, and intimate. —Sophia Larigakis ​ 110 Waterbury Street, Brooklyn, NY 11206 https://hyperallergic.com/486865/art-movements-294/ February 28, 2019 News - Art Movements “Serwan Baran will represent Iraq at the Venice Biennale, Naima J. Keith will take on a new role at LACMA, and more.” Jasmine Weber [...] Knockdown Center in New York has announced that Sarah Zapata, ray ferreira, Yanira Castro, and ​ ​ Shawné Michaelain Holloway are the curators of its Spring 2019 season of Sunday Service, a monthly series of live work. [via email announcement] About Sunday Service Taking place the first Sunday of each month, a guest curator is invited to organize a salon style evening of cross-disciplinary performances and presentations that brings together a multiplicity of views around a singular prompt, such as a question, theme, or formal structure. Sunday Service centers works in progress, interdisciplinary endeavors, and diversity in format showcased in a lo-fi environment to foster the exploration of ideas and critical discourse amongst peers. https://knockdown.center/event/sunday-service-spring-2019-season/ 110 Waterbury Street, Brooklyn, NY 11206 https://nylon.com/consciousness-raising-new-museum-review December 5, 2018 What It Looks Like When Queer Artists Memorialize Stonewall “Consciousness Razing—The Stonewall Re-Memorialization Project” is on view at NYCs New Museum CASSIDY DAWN GRAVES Though it’s one of the most recognizable moments in LGBTQ history, the 1969 riots at New York City’s Stonewall Inn tend to be remembered differently by different people. For some, Stonewall is known primarily as an important gay bar in New York City’s West Village, for others, it’s a site of anti-establishment resistance spearheaded by trans women of color who remain overlooked. Then there’s Stonewall, the 2015 film panned by critics and activists alike for its whitewashed version of ​ ​ ​ ​ history. But, what if the site and events were memorialized in a different way? Say, by being honored with a huge T-shirt launcher? Or, celebrated with a series of relaxing chairs? These kinds of creations are exactly what happened when Chris E. Vargas, founder of the “semi-fictional, transient” Museum of Trans Hirstory and Art (MOTHA), asked artists for their own Stonewall monuments in a current exhibition at New Museum in New York City. Although President Barack Obama designated the Stonewall Inn and its neighboring Christopher Park as ​ ​ a national monument in 2016—making it the first to be centered around the LGBTQ community—Vargas finds this commemoration insufficient; MOTHA seeks to provide the trans community with “a gender-neutral hirstory all their own,” so it’s only natural he’d ask the queer community to take honoring Stonewall out of the government’s hands and into their own. “Depending on who you are, your relationship to the events at Stonewall and that history is very different. So a multi-generational group of artists felt really important,” Vargas tells NYLON. This project is also different from his prior ventures at MOTHA in that it includes a wider range of artists across the sexuality and gender spectrums. “There’s been a lot of work to kind of displace that one narrative that’s very white and cisgender-focused, pointing to the trans women of color who were instrumental to the riots. But it’s also important to not overlook all the people who have stakes in this history as well. [The exhibit is] very trans-focused, but it’s not only trans artists,” he explains. 110 Waterbury Street, Brooklyn, NY 11206 Photo by Maris Hutchinson/EPW Studio Vargas’ diverse team expands what the very definition of “monument” can mean. There’s somewhat traditional options, like Sarah Zapata’s large sculptures of feet, as well as those that are more avant-garde, such as Catherine Lord’s Plexiglas tube filled with used shirts bearing activist symbols and “lesbian sweat, lesbian blood, lesbian thought,” paying tribute to “another figure absent in the march of history.” Photo by Maris Hutchinson/EPW Studio 110 Waterbury Street, Brooklyn, NY 11206 Some offer a multimedia element: Keijuan Thomas’s wooden raft connected by hair beads, “like the kind [her] momma used to use,” is accompanied by a poetic proposal and spoken word audio track. “I felt the weight of a history so heavy/ It moved me to keep moving, to keep,” she proclaims. Almost all the works were created specifically for the show, but one is an actual relic of history. Thomas Lanigan-Schmidt, a veteran of the Stonewall riots, contributed two sculptures from 1969 (one of which was remade for this exhibit), as well as a handwritten piece from 1989. “This wasn’t just another battle … Our Mother Stonewall was giving birth to a new ERA and we were all the midwives,” he wrote. Photo by Maris Hutchinson/EPW Studio Devin N. Morris proposed a practical collection of chairs and lounges to be scattered throughout Christopher Park. Inspired by the phrase “a seat at the table,” they’re named for black trans leaders like Marsha P. Johnson and Miss Major. “I wanted to provoke a feeling of belonging or a desire to stay in a certain space,” Morris explains. “I designed chairs that could satisfy many different needs for rest, especially in a now-disparate location in lower Manhattan that doesn’t represent a safe space for queer or trans bodies of color.” These monuments currently only exist as written proposals, sketches, and small, low-budget models placed in a miniature Christopher Park on the fifth floor of a New York City museum. “I feel like it’s very much in the Zeitgeist, this conversation about what history gets monumentalized,” Vargas explains, “so it was sort of a funny thing to really not embrace that style of doing things, and instead embrace a very strange mid-size, miniature scale to talk about this history.” Some artists did articulate desires to make their work large-scale. Nicki Green, who proposed a pile of “Stonewall-brand” bricks to acknowledge both the object’s role in the riots and the word’s slang meaning as “a trans woman who does not pass as a cis woman,” said “I would be so excited to design and produce full-scale bricks and install them impermanently, as I think a monument that is a constantly shifting form would truly activate the work in a way the [model] couldn’t.” 110 Waterbury Street, Brooklyn, NY 11206 Photo by Maris Hutchinson/EPW Studio Jibz Cameron, who performs under the name Dynasty Handbag and proposed a series of cartoon illustrations such as “the Stonewall Inn’s overflowing toilet (as described by a frequenter of the bar)” and a “stiletto heel being slammed into the eye of a cop,” said, given the resources, they “would create an enormous statue of a tattered spiked heel that shot flames into the air and blasted an air horn whenever anyone got close to it.” Art isn’t the only component; an adjoining room presents political literature and tangible ways for one to make a difference, such as working with the Sylvia Rivera Law Project, which provides “free, quality, ​ ​ respectful, affirming legal services for low-income transgender, intersex, and gender non-conforming people.” While this room was required due to the exhibition’s place in the museum’s Department of Education and Public Engagement program, Vargas says it also helps remind people that more vulnerable members of the LGBT community, like trans women of color, still face a lot of the same oppression today those at Stonewall did in 1969.