Article on the FITS exhibit at SPACE 776, post-opening

1.
It’s no secret that Bushwick is becoming one of New York’s most in­demand
neighborhoods. Its route to our contemporary age is one emblematic of the gentrification of New
York City: former farms and fields subdivided and settled by working class immigrants who
staffed an industrial center, the latter­day disinvestment of which brought first artists then young
professionals to its subway adjacent apartments. Then, it becomes a destination for ​Queen
Bey​–or so says the ​Bushwick Daily​, anyway. The post­Beyonce phase historically demands that
artists themselves seek out greener, more affordable pastures to live and work. But Bushwick, in
all its post­industrial, post­Beyonce splendor remains abuzz with artists, as it has for decades,
and is home to an abundance of studios and over fifty galleries that have cast off the blue­chip
inaccessibility of Chelsea. Space 776 stands among its Bushwick brethren as a fresh space for
showcasing local, emerging talent. Under the leadership of director Jourdain Lee, the gallery has,
since its opening in 2013, established a robust record of in­house shows as well as both local and
international art fair attendance.​ ​Set back from Central Ave by a wrought­iron fence and a small

2. stoop, Space 776 occupies a space that could have once been a residence. In spite of major
renovations on the gallery’s part, the space is cozy; a welcome departure from the white cubes
across the East River.
The gallery’s most recent show, ​Figure in the Sky​, ​was curated by participating artist
Gabriel Hopson. Other artists included William Hempel, Cora Kobischka, Takyua Hayaki and
Allison Yano. The show closed on Sunday, November 9th. Writing about an exhibition after it’s
closed is tricky business, lest the article read more like an obituary than a review. But exhibitions
by their very nature are impermanent: a collection of artworks come that together to express a
unified idea for a few weeks, then dissipate. But perhaps writing about ​Figure in the Sky ​after the
fact is the most appropriate way to consider it, as it is about the ephemeral and the imagined:
both are qualities determined by a lack of visibility, ambiguity and untouchability; as well, both
are qualities that are inherent in the process of making art. Hopson’s curatorial statement
considers the unknowable end result, emphasizing that the process is where the meat is: a parallel
to the human condition, if ever there was. It even opens with an elegy. The final stanzas read:
“There is no place/For us/Here but we glide/Into the sky./It does not create a lot of problems.”
To be sure, Hopson has skillfully threaded a hearty line through the concepts of process and
temporality in this show. Yet, the works in the show are disparate in form and technique.
Allison Yano’s “Neo­Cathedral” is a piece of particular note. A mylar scroll with light
layers of thinly screenprinted, monochromatic imagery, the piece hangs in the middle of the
space and forms a partial divider. Upon reading Yano’s ​artist statement​, I was unsurprised to find
a strong influence from Japanese Christians, as “Neo­Cathedral” is a contemporary presentation
of the convergence of two traditional, albeit dissimilar aesthetic applications. There is more to

3. the piece that remains rolled up at the foot of the scroll; Yano has positioned the piece in such a
way that it is impossible to see all of the scroll at once. On the other hand, William Hempel’s
piece, ​“PARA­HOLLYWOOD”​ magnifies the invisible, as he investigates the cracks between
the idea and the end product. A mirror emblazoned with “PARA­HOLLYWOOD” rests against
the floor, while a monitor plays footage of a film crew into the mirror. To make the film, the
crew​ stood in front of the mirror, which creates layers of experiences between the viewers ​(film
still)​ and the film crew. To be sure, “Para­Hollywood” addresses issues of temporality as viewers
are confronted with the reflection of a recorded performance.
Perhaps the most striking piece is Cora Kobischka’s ​installation ​near the entrance. An
empty egg carton sits on a pedestal; to its left is a plexiglass box mounted to the wall with a hole
cut into the center and fragmented eggshells lining its bottom. At the opening, Kobischka invited
visitors to ​toss a hollowed­out, glitter­filled egg through the hole​. On the ground is a smattering
of shattered shells and sporadic piles of glitter, mournful evidence of several failed attempts.
Beyond the whimsical disjuncture of playing Fine Art Cornhole in a gallery space, what is most
compelling about the piece that for most of the exhibition’s duration, the installation was ossified
in a past event. The egg carton was never refilled, barring any possibility that the game could
continue. As the only installation that is contingent on audience participation and thus rooted in
an ephemeral experience, Kobischka’s piece is most emblematic of the elegiac nature of the
exhibition.