In an art world that has grown accustomed to insisting that work play well with Instagram, it can be easy to overlook anything that doesn’t. Exposure at Ulterior Gallery, a subtle show that sometimes seems intentionally to resist easy photographic reproduction, might not offer the quick answers our ever-shrinking attention spans demand. But much in this show, curated by artist Carrie Yamaoka, is worth a second view.
Take two pieces by Carlos Reyes, both titled “Popular Jewelry” (2023). Depending on how the light falls, or how quickly you pass by, you may not see a lot in these framed pieces of burgundy fabric. But close up, the curved traces of necklaces stand out in the faded textile and tiny pock marks from the pins used to hold finery in place become visible; what you’re seeing are fabric swatches from jewelry display cases. Reyes collects them from shopkeepers in Lower Manhattan. I doubt it’s an accident that the works share the name of an unassuming Canal Street business that has long been a go-to spot for a wide swath of New Yorkers seeking adornment, including many well-known rap and hip-hop artists. There’s a lot to read in these quiet pieces, which call to mind the nightly ritual of workers from downtown to uptown carefully locking up millions of dollars of merchandise, leaving only denuded trays and stands in the windows.
Humor bubbles up in some of the other works on display. Linn P. Meldt’s “Á conter en le trottoir” (2024) is comprised of cast silicone and flower petals, “with sidewalk residue.” What could be less Instagrammable? And how to distinguish the flower petals from the dirt and waste and disintegrating trash that have merged into residue? Anna Campbell’s “Chest” (2022) is more coy in its humor. Composed of plywood, pine, and a rectangle of hickory veneer, that odd imposition of veneer on top of plywood, itself made up of layers of veneer, begs all sorts of questions. Does the title reference anatomy or furniture? The artist’s layering and editing projects both playful and serious dimensions. Given Campbell’s interest in queerness, “Chest” suggests the ways that the bodies of queer and cis people alike change, intentionally and over time, and our society’s very different readings of those changes across identity groups.
But as the uncertainties above indicate, the works in the show are not always easy to grasp. With little contextualizing information, some of the process-focused pieces, such as those by Daniel Brodner and Thomas Fougeirol, can feel hard to access. I ended up asking the gallery attendant what was at play in Criag Jun Li’s sculpture “Repose II” (2025), which fills the space with a low whirring sound and whose internal machinery gathers condensation on the metal plate at the top of the small structure. The dryness of the gallery limits the effect of this piece.
Artists aren’t obligated to spoon feed audiences, but it’s a choice to present work that turns in on itself. For over a decade I wrote primarily about performance art and experimental theater, and learned early on to reassure friends that not getting it is a valid response. That said, Yamaoka’s curatorial statement is helpful in clarifying the show’s intent. For her, Exposure is an exploration of ideas surrounding photographic exposure, “our exposure to each other,” and the ways in which art itself is exposed to the world, with all the wear and tear that entails. It’s no wonder that the work representing the show on the gallery’s website and social media is “Landscape” (1960s/2007–ongoing). Created by Hol Ogram, a cryptic collaboration between artists who are not identified on the web or by the gallery, this durational piece is a literal experiment in exposure. Made using a dye transfer process, it slowly degrades as light interacts with the chemicals over time. Like the Greek philosopher Heraclitus’s famous river, it is never the same twice, always inviting another look.
Exposure continues at Ulterior Gallery (424 Broadway #601, Soho, Manhattan) through April 5. The exhibition was curated by Carrie Yamaoka.
