Xinyu Liu, a multidexterous artist engaging with a variety of media, exhibits her work in a solo presentation at Art Cake in Brooklyn, titled, “Fool’s Hour.” Liu conceives of her body of work as revolving around the experience of a person going to an amusement park or a casino, where the busy sense of time within a 9 to 5 work schedule is lost. What makes someone a fool, and what is the meaning behind the title, ‘fool’s hour?’ Liu is catching on the subtle difference between how we label ourselves and others, as winners and losers, as rich or poor, and as a fool and non-fool. There are many contradictory considerations and occurrences that go into deciding how someone might be a fool. For example, the exorbitant use of money might make someone a fool because s/he or they are wasting their financial resources, yet such a use might also count as a sign of wealth and thereby not foolish. Power relations are reversible, depending on the context and the signifying traits.
In “Fool’s Hour” (2025), we see a circular structure encasing segments of a rollercoaster ride, made in transparent acrylic. Numbers flip between 6 and 9, and a clown’s hat with three arms carries spherical tips on two of the arms but not the third one. What the work shows is a contained sense of time, in which time ceases to go forward linearly but condenses into a cyclical form. This is the Fool’s Hour, in which the subject is free to be a fool of the capitalist system that wants to extract as much money from the subject as possible.
“Time is not lost, it is freed” (2025) is a wood-carved sculpture in the form of some kind of casing for a glasses or pen, a jewelry box, or a miniature burial vault. The phrase looks like an old proverb, but it is a reaction to Benjamin Franklin’s belief that “lost time is never found again.” What we must conclude from this train of logic is that time is not lost, but it must be freed and wrestled away through a match or struggle with the capitalist system that seeks to deprive us of time. This is the question that each and every person living within the reality of a capitalist world must deal with. To be a fool or not to be, that is the question.
Xinyu Liu, Time Is Not Lost, It Is Freed (2025), hand-carved wood, 6.5 x 1.5 x 4 inches
Xinyu Liu: Fool’s Hour on April 17-May 10, 2026 at Artcake, 214 40th Street, Brooklyn, NY 11232
Writing about Murray Hochman’s paintings is, for me, an act of time travel. I am in the present, in his current exhibition of very large, visually mysteriously canvases that have a raw, open spirit. There is my memory of Murray, many decades ago when I first met him, a daunting guy in a dim loft in Lower Manhattan, full of his art and saturated with the odor of spray paint.
Murray Hochman, Silver and Copper Abstraction, 2004, aerosol paint on canvas, 54 x 88.5 in.
And there is the man himself now, whose journey of 91 years has been a constant painter’s progress, with all the satisfactions and vagaries that that implies. Lately, Murray’s work has received well-deserved recognition in group shows and in solo exhibitions at KinoSaito and the current one at Gallery AP Space.
Murray Hochman, Large PolychromeNo. 2, 2005, aerosol paint on canvas, 120 x 96 in.
In writing about painting, I usually focus exclusively on the work – what it does to me, and all that it might suggest – hoping to speak for art that speaks for itself. But here I want to see how the painter’s story and the paintings merge in my thoughts.
Murray is half a generation older than me, having grown up on New York’s Lower East Side in the 1930s and 1940s. He served in the military in the aftermath of the Korean War. His deployment was in Germany, permitting him to travel in Europe, and work in ceramics in an army base crafts class. The GI bill allowed him to earn a degree in art history from New York University, and an MFA in ceramics from Alfred University.
Returning to New York in the mid-1960s, Murray’s early work drew collectors and exhibition opportunities in the burgeoning downtown scene. The influences that Murray was drawn to included Abstract Expressionism, minimalist music, and Japanese culture. Buddhism became a life-long practice for him, whose presence in his paintings is implicit in a kind of acceptance of what is, and how that can manifest itself in a kind of hard-won spaciousness.
Murray Hochman, Stormy Polychrome, 2004, aerosol paint on canvas, 96 x 65.5 in.
All writing about the essence of paintings is speculative, but Murray’s move with his spouse Lois to the Berkshires in Massachusetts two decades ago seems central to the work in the exhibition. In this rural setting, the painter has a barn to work in, and the chance to produce large-scale canvasses, some of which are 10 feet in height. But beyond size, the Large Polychrome paintings have an expansiveness, toughness, and lyricism in which I intuit the presence of the natural world.
I sense in the painting Silver and Copper Abstraction, that that the metallic surface seems to evoke an iced-over pond, with a calligraphy of whipping, inscribed lines. In Stormy Polychrome, we feel the presence of gathering clouds and dying, persisting light. In Large Polychrome No. 6, the golden illumination of dawn or dusk fills the canvas, marked allover with a rapid sgrafitto.
Murray Hochman, Large Polychrome No. 6, 2004, aerosol paint on canvas, 78 x 96 in.
In a number of paintings, we are in a watery realm, with thinned-out pigment becoming rivulets in a broken field. Here the exhibition’s title, Dissolution / Resolution comes into play most evidently. Murray uses solvents to open up stained or sprayed paint, resulting in droplets or flows in the shifting atmosphere. Large Polychrome No. 2 is a prime example of this painterly process almost creating the painting by itself. In contrast is the more vividly colored Large Polychrome No. 5, with its zones of red, yellow, aqua, white, black, and tan, animated by airborne, graffiti-like sprays.
In the gallery’s lower level is Murray’s Inner Spaces series, small-scale works on paper, elegantly mounted on silver grounds. These intimate works show the artist exploring a range of flows where pigment and solvents mix in surprisingly expressive ways. Also, on the lower level is a single sculpture, Camo Tower, representing a whole other body of Murray’s work. Found detritus from consumer culture is assembled into a cubic form, painted in a range of moody greens. In concert with this work is Murray Hochman, A Labyrinth, a sound piece by Fior Daniela, with an original score and Murray’s spoken reflections on his work.
Murray Hochman, Large Polychrome No 5, 2002, Aerosol paint on canvas, 96 x 84 in
Murray’s work is resolutely abstract, but full of emotion, turmoil, light, and hints of transcendence. Constructive and destructive forces are both always present, playing out the performance of an existential drama. The painter allows paint to become a practice and path, a way of losing and finding oneself.
Murray Hochman Dissolution / Resolution at Gallery AP Space, New York, April 2 – May 10, 2026
Nadia Coen, Mahmoud Hamadani, Armita Raafat, Michael David, Andrew Huston, Alyse Rosner, Paul Michael Graves, Bodo Korsig, Steven Salzman, Margaret Weber, Mark Williams at Bienvenu Steinberg & C in New York City
Across painting, sculpture, and installation, “Time and Materials” highlights the use of unconventional materials – glass, resin, plastic straws, fabrics, and carpets – to create works that are both temporal and tactile. Many of the works lean abstract, inviting the viewer to consider the significance embedded in the use of obscure materials and the progression of time encoded in the art.
Paul Michael Graves, Fig. CXXXVIII., 2024, oil on canvas, 48 x 48 in, 121.9 x 121.9 cm
The exhibition repeatedly emphasizes material experimentation as an outlet for interdisciplinary expression. Paul Michael Graves’ pieces play with the intersection between art and his previous career as a helicopter pilot. Composed of black dots and lines set across a bronze background, the pieces evoke the visual components of aerial map making. Initially appearing abstract, the artwork deliberately uses the black marks to resemble plotted coordinates and flight paths as seen from above. Graves’ interpretation of time reflects the broader theme of the unique experience of time. The pieces display time and duration through flight paths rather than fixed units.
Mahmoud Hamadani’s geometric compositions similarly gesture towards his mathematical foundations. In his untitled work, Hamadani arranges nine black frames into a square. Within each frame, seven diamonds are uniquely oriented, with each diamond representing a day of the week. The subtle variations within each frame mirror the rhythms and changes of days and weeks. Continuing the larger theme of time interpreted through interdisciplinary practices, Hamadani’s geometric orientations suggest that time is measured, rhythmic, and symmetrical through a mathematical lens.
Installation view with work by Steven Salzman‘s Steaws III and Straws X (left), and Andrew Huston‘s Days of the week (right)
Andrew Huston continues the use of geometric shapes to portray time. With seven panels, each filled with gold pigment and black dots, the artwork represents the seven days of the week. Although the panels are fixedly aligned to emulate calendar pages, each panel is distinct. The variation among the series of panels emphasises the unpredictability of time despite the expected rhythm of the week.
Armita Raafat, Untitled, 2019, resin, paper mâché, tiles, fabric, mesh tiles, fabric, mesh, and acrylic, 38 x 80 x 7 in, 96.5 x 203.2 x 17.8 cm
Armita Raafat’s portrayal of time draws on a more fluid interpretation, by contrast. Raafat draws on traditional Muqarnas while reimagining it with vivid, unconventional materials. Composed of resin, tiles, and fabrics, the work revisits traditional architecture with a modern perspective, suggesting that time, rather than being fixed, can be actively returned to and reconsidered. The piece, being an extension of Raafat’s inquiry into Muqarnas, maintains the ongoing theme of interests and passions altering perception of time found throughout the exhibition.
Bodo Korsig, Tears of Silence, 2023, 7.9 × 10.2 in, 20 x 26 cm
Bodo Korsig’s “Zerspringen des Zustandes”, which translates from German to “Shattering of the State”, approaches the theme of time through one moment of rupture. The work suggests that time does not only unfold – it snaps. The “shattering” becomes a moment when continuity is lost, and a new state abruptly emerges. This interpretation of time aligns with Korsig’s focus on human behavior under extreme conditions. In moments of fear or violence, mental states often do not erode over time; they shatter instantly. The piece introduces the irreversibility of time and its capacity to collapse into a single moment of change. In contrast to other works in the exhibition, which focus on the cycle and rhythm of time, Korsig centers its immediacy and instantaneity.
Alyse Rosner, From Wind or Sky or Myth (quiet pink), 2025, acrylic on raw pine, 6 x 5.5 in, 15.2 x 14 cmMichael David, The Batman, 2023-26, mirrored glass, silicone, fabric, glitter, acrylic and oil paint on wooden panels, 147 x 82 x 6 in, 373.4 x 208.3 x 15.2 cm
Alyse Rosner’s piece, “From Wind or Sky or Myth (shadow)” evokes the visual intensity of fireworks – brief yet expansive bursts that unfold simultaneously – suggesting that time is not a singular passing instant, but a convergence of multiple moments occurring at once. Some works do not specifically reference time, however. Instead, they fall under the exhibition’s material aspect. Michael David, for example, uses nontraditional materials such as glass, silicone, fabric, and glitter in his work, “The Batman”. Innovative uses of various materials are also present in the works of Nadia Coen, Steven Salzman, Margaret Weber, and Mark Williams.
Margaret Weber, Rivington or Wat, 2025, newspaper (newsprint), oil pastel, dye, acrylic paint, cardboard, 24 x 33.8 in, 61 x 85.7 cmMark Williams, PoC 47, 2022, oil, acrylic & pencil on cardboard, 24 x 30 in, 61 x 76.2 cm
The title of the exhibition draws on the policy under which clients pay contractors a fixed amount for the time spent and materials used. In the context of the exhibition, time and material are established as intertwined and in constant conversation.
Alexey von Schlippe (1915-1988) left his title as a Russian Baron in the court of Tsar Nicholas II behind when he became a citizen of the United States in 1960. What emerged in his art during and after this transition, was a unique sort of social realism, not unlike the immediacy and empathy in the egg tempera paintings of Ben Shahn, but with more intimacy and isolation.
Still Life with Mushrooms (1974), oil on board, 3 ½ x 7 ½ inches, all images courtesy of the author
As part of the introduction to the exhibit, a descriptive wall panel mentions Von Schlippe’s inspiration from Giotto and Piero Della Francesca, which is clear in his dry brush technique common in the ancient art of egg tempera painting, an approach Von Schlippe manages even when he paints with oils. The text also mentions the influence of West African art that shows up in various ways including subject matter featuring a black woman with an exposed upper body ala mid-century National Geographic magazine, abrupt perspective in terms of the stylized masks and adornments, and anatomical simplification of the same. Beyond these influences, the content presented in Von Schlippe’s paintings has many psychological traits that break through. Additionally, and Like Andrew Wyeth who also masterfully worked with egg tempera capturing the distinctive souls of his subjects that he knew well, Von Schlippe’s way with egg tempera finds a less individual representation of a specific soul. Von Schlippe takes a more universal approach to the harm imposed on an oppressed group longing to be treated with the respect they deserve in an age of drastic social change.
Reclining Figure with White Blouse (undated, mid twentieth century), egg tempera with oil on masonite, 24 ¼ x 48 inches
The paintings in this exhibition were created between the late 1950’s to the early 1980’s when America went through much social unrest and change. A fact that you can feel emanating from his female subjects in particular, which are often people of color seemingly exhausted by the burdens that come with living through troubled times. In Reclining Figurewith White Blouse (undated, mid twentieth century) you get a sense of temporary peace as a compositional chrysalis forms around the figure. In this dream state, the harshness of the outside world is quietly absorbed in waves of harmless cleansing transitions within that subtle enclosure. And despite the metaphorical cushioning, there remains tension in the bent arms and fisted hands as they respond to indelible memories of repressive circumstances.
Exhibited directly below Reclining Figure with White Blouse is Reclining Figure (1980), which features a middle aged woman who still wears her simple black shoes – a detail that does not appear in any of the other paintings that all feature bare footed subjects. Reclining Figure also has more clarity of the figure that includes more realistic facial features, sharp pleats in a long skirt, a formal couch and hands set in a classic sleep, prayer-like pose giving this particular person a feeling of security and personal importance. Perhaps it’s someone who is related to the artist.
Reclining Figure (1980), egg tempera with oil on canvas, 24 x 48 inches
Conversely, the figure in Reclining Nude (Half Nude, Hands Raised) (1958) offers great import due to its overtly spiritual component and attention to detail in the sinuous, interconnected folds of fabric. The uplifted arms also add power and presence to the figure that none of the other paintings share. In the subject’s face, the relatively blank eyes give off a mask-like presence that brings us back to Von Schlippe’s interest in West African sculpture in all of its ritualistic or ceremonial forms.
Seascape (1978), oil on masonite, 20 x 24 inches
Seascape (1978), which is solely painted in oil, ventures the furthest into the Surrealist realm. The composition has a sort of rocking motion, as if we are viewing the scene from a boat in choppy seas, as the looming sandy cliffs and flood of ocean water that shimmers in the distant horizon strain to gain their individual heights in the picture plane. Then you have the Houston to Boston leaning clouds above that create a clockwise rotation in the composition, giving the scene all of its endless movement. Ignoring all this upheaval is a seagull perched atop a small branch of a large piece of driftwood on the lower left of the painting. Facing outward and away from the center, the bird gives the narrative a bit of doubt to its truth, telling the viewer that all this commotion is imagined, pieced together from bits of memory and preconceptions.
Two Bottles (1958), oil on board, 14 ⅔ x 11 ¼ inches
As a still life painter, Von Schlippe is equally skilled. Still Life with Mushroom (1974) has that George Grosz, Otto Dix brand of intensity, while Two Bottles (1958) leans a bit more toward the softened and shimmering – closer to Giorgio Morandi, only with lots of detail in the reflective surfaces. All in all, a striking exhibition in one of the most distinctive and magnificent buildings in New England that is best known for its extensive collection of world class plaster casts such as Michelangelo’s Pietà and Moses, Donatello’s David and the Laocoön and His Sons by Baccio Bandinelli. A destination that is well worth the visit any time you are in Norwich, Connecticut.
Jeffrey Bishop, Fathom Compression #18, 2020, acrylic and ink on synthetic substrate, 60 x 44 inches
What is painting magic? How do we recognize it? What is it good for?
These questions arise from thinking about the work of Jeffery Bishop and Mason Dowling in their current two-person exhibition. Both artists employ painterly processes of their own invention, creating personal genres of image making that move us beyond wondering “How did they do that?”. Part of the fascination engendered by both artists is the slight-of-hand of seductive effects, misdirecting us while something else is transpiring, just beyond our conscious awareness.
In Bishop’s case, a silkscreened or collaged image often become a central motif, with a seemingly generative power to create a confounding visual field in turmoil around it. In the artist’s two large Fathom Compression pieces, a complex, symmetrical, silkscreened form anchors the billowing of diluted ink, a mysterious grisaille realm of liquid of pools and crevasses. The innermost form can be read as a kind of holy monster, or wizard behind the screen, whose identity is subsumed by the tempest he creates. Both the ink’s unpredictable flow, and the work’s title alert us that we have entered a realm of consciousness where sinking into its depths carries both wonders and perils.
Jeffrey Bishop, Sidewinder #6, 2026, acrylic and collage on wood panel, 17 1/2 x 13 1/2 inches
In Bishop’s Sidewinder series, a writhing, nubile form, applied to the painting’s surface as a chine collé, moves like a spill of mercury or a dancing, cybernetic demon. This avatar rules over a small kingdom whose landscape is comprised of an archive of the artist’s favored graphic motifs. In Sidewinder #6 a snaky cadmium red shape overlays Bishop’s spears, streamings, and distressed surfaces.
Jeffrey Bishop, Interval #8, 2026, acrylic and collage on cotton on wood panel, 24 x 18 inches
Bishop’s Interval pieces are perhaps the most intimate and personal works here. In these paintings, cotton on panel act as a kind of private diary, carrying a gritty atmosphere of grayed tendrils acrylic, fragments of vibratory waves, and trapezoids with peaked studs of silver paint. In Interval #8, shards of white wings float high above the miasma that they have escaped.
Mason Dowling, Barnacle Candy, 2026, acrylic and paper on wood panel with artist-made wood frame, 11 x 9 inches
Mason Dowling creates hallucinatory paintings with a deceptively simple method – cut paper affixed to a panel, squeegeed with passes of color. The result is a gorgeous field of flaring hues that appear and fade away unpredictably. Complicating matters, the cutaway shapes catch darkness within them, spilling shadows onto the surrounding surface. The effect is a kind of solarization, with negative and positive trading places within a single painting.
For all their beauty, there is a sublimated fierceness at work here, with the sharp forms cut into the surface, and the charred shadows that threatens the streaks of cerise, scarlet, and gold. There is, as well, a kind of temptation at work: we are asked against our better judgement to trade the pleasure of looking, only to find the risk that lurks as the price of the bargain.
Mason Dowling, Ptarmigan, 2024, acrylic and paper on wood panel with artist-made wood frame, 11 x 9 inches
A number of the painting feature a softened, almost blurred appearance that seems to allude to the natural world, specifically to the high desert of New Mexico, where the artist was raised. We can see in these and other paintings the weathered geology, the powerful light, and scorching heat of this environment.
Two of Dowling’s largest works are structured by an all-over field of vertical lines, perhaps off-printed from corrugated cardboard. Cutt (Trucha) combines cut forms with these deep striations, and a shimmering, almost iridescent sunset light, an evocation of the cutthroat trout, native to the American West.
Both Bishop and Dowling share a version of painting magic that allows them to conjure, through abstract, material means their own psychic dominions, into which we are induced to enter.
Mason Dowling, Cutt (Trucha), 2025, acrylic and paper on polyester, 60 x 48 inches
Jeffery Bishop Mason Dowling at McKenzie Fine Art, New York, January 28 – March 8, 2026
