Black-and-white checkered floors make a fittingly symbolic backdrop for any art fair — but none so much as the Spring Break Art Show. Navigating the eclectic fair’s former home on the Upper East Side was often akin to playing 3D chess, or stepping into a strange board game with the rulebook tossed out the window. But for its 13th edition open through this Monday, September 9, Spring Break brings its imaginative spirit to an environment that could certainly use it: the 10th story of a Tribeca office building. Despite the oddly empty intermediate rooms that felt like dead space in an Ikea showroom, not to mention awkward rows of repurposed cubicles, the triangular booth route rewarded us with a host of artistic gems and memorable works shown by first-time exhibitors.
Swimming against a newfound corporate undercurrent that muted some of Spring Break’s best qualities, some artists embodied a humming energy that cut through the Armory Week noise. Hyperallergic Editor-in-Chief Hrag Vartanian and I share our highlights below. —Lakshmi Rivera Amin, Associate Editor
Artist Terra Keck told me she sees a connection between aliens and angels — you’ve got my attention — and in her works she has combined layers of graphite and a wash of color before she erases the materials to create otherworldly images that glow with the optimism of theosophical insight. Heightened by the lights behind the panels and the accompanying metallic wall painting, these small works are brimming with the energy of a world waiting to be born, and I am so ready for them. —HV
Justin Yoon’s cinematic and chromatic paintings use glitter sparingly, which heightens the effect of magic throughout. Curated by Kaizhou Allegro Yang, The Discreet: Charm of the Dreamers celebrates a type of queer fantasy without falling into the usual traps of camp, instead rendering its subjects with a quotidian quality that lets you imagine them blending into real life. —HV
If you’re not convinced realism can pack a punch, visit this two-person showing curated by Zachary Lank, called REFLUX. “Watermelon Picnic” by Barker-Hill feels timely and political in its strange sensuality and framing, while Martinotti channels Jean Siméon Chardin in still lifes that celebrate the visual and luxurious splendor of textures of all kinds. Here, creme and silver, not to mention a satin ribbon, are rendered with the same care and refinement of a loving portrait, proving the artist’s prowess with paint and that a still life can transport you into an intimate mental space, even in the clamor of an art fair. —HV
In Alexandra Rubinstein’s I’d Rather Sink Than Call Brad for Help booth, you have a sense that she’s working things out in real-time. In her glorious artistic universe, she grafts men’s bodies onto what is traditionally seen as a feminized landscape, while exploring the role of masculinity in the “imminent disaster and politics of climate change,” in her words. The artist never lets the works feel didactic, save for the hilarious testicle-shaped disco balls hanging above. Instead she sublimates the dynamics of relationships (she says heterosexual ones, but I don’t think it’s limited to them) so you get the sense that when a guy wants space, she paints him into a canvas to give him his wish — honestly, she’s a genius for figuring this out. From waterfalls to mountains, the paintings sing a melody of freedom from patriarchy, and I’m here for it. —HV
Manuel Hernandez Sanchez: The Singing Wall
Braiding Nahuatl stories together with familial scenes and a gleaming imagination, Manuel Hernandez Sanchez wastes no space on the three walls of his booth. I was immediately drawn to small grommet-lined paintings cut out of canvas and affixed to a painted backdrop of bricks, but the artist pointed to the distant landscape beyond the wall when I asked about whether the fair’s theme influenced his display. “I made these Hudson River School-type paintings to play with that idea of land being advertised,” he said. “I wanted to put a mural over those paintings.” His revision makes way for a portrait of his niece playing at Chapultepec Castle in Mexico City, Dolores Huerta giving a speech, and a resplendent vision of his community. —LA
LaThoriel Badenhausen: Once You’ve Had A Peek Into These Beautiful Worlds
You couldn’t miss LaThoriel Badenhausen if you tried, and you wouldn’t want to anyway. The 83-year-old assemblage artist donned a Wonder Woman t-shirt with a bright red skirt to match on opening night, a glittering complement to her cosmic installation curated by Kat Ryals, who also has artwork on view in the booth. Badenhausen spent decades stealing snatches of free time to dedicate to her art, and she’s rekindled her practice in recent years with a focus on constellations of women’s labor, her midwestern upbringing, and brilliantly repurposed materials. She calls one sculpture a “prairie bug,” built from deconstructed glasses and delicate dried grass. —LA
Artist Yoshie Sakai’s booth-turned-beach felt like a surprise party, bringing a sorely needed levity to a weary fairgoer. Her Grandma Entertainment Franchise booth titled Grandma Is Cool AF, where I’m certain both of my grandmothers would have a hoot, attracted families and solo visitors alike and offered a riotous escape from typical booths. In Sakai’s unabashedly fabulous world, constraints of age, sexism, and buttoned-up importance are swallowed and swept away. —LA
In PASSAGEWAYS, fair newcomer Aleksandra Dougal strips familiar industrial fixtures of New York City down to their bones, laying the skeleton bare for a chance to look at them anew. The artist explained that she and the All Street Gallery curators crafted the ghostly installation of paint smatterings, faint charcoal drawings, and white footprints specifically for the sunny corner room. I felt lucky to have a few minutes alone to soak it in as the afternoon sun painted window outlines across the floor, inviting quiet contemplation and granting me a new lens to carry with me out of the fair. —LA
