Steve Rockwell at Sheff Contemporary

by Hugh Alcock

A new gallery has opened in Toronto – Sheff Contemporary – located in a surprisingly airy basement on Danforth Ave. Given the number of commercial galleries that have closed in recent years, its opening is in itself something to celebrate. Its inaugural show highlights the work of Steve Rockwell. The gallery’s owner, Saeed Mohamed has known Rockwell many years, and has always been greatly impressed by his work.

The space, Mohamed explains, is important in the sense that he understands how art is ineluctably an in-person experience. Indeed, it the experiencing of art in the gallery setting that is a central idea of Rockwell’s work. At the same time, Mohamed is not committed to keeping the gallery in one location. Rather, he appreciates that it is the people – artists, audience, buyers etc. – who together are the essential elements of this experience. Art, he feels, is often elitist and he is keen, instead, to promote art in a way that makes it more relatable to the public, who like himself, may not be connoisseurs in the traditional sense. His hope is to foster an inclusive crowd of art enthusiasts who will facilitate this aim. He sees his role as providing the space and the opportunity to experience art. Certainly judging from the crowd who showed up for the opening reception, he’s off to a good start.

Installation view of Steve Rockwell Meditation on Space at Sheff Contemporary, 2025. Photo: Hugh Alcock
Installation view of Steve Rockwell Meditation on Space at Sheff Contemporary, 2025. Photo: Hugh Alcock

Rockwell’s show is about art. It is, one might say, second order art. Moreover it is a breed of conceptual art, based on performance of a peculiarly inconspicuous kind. Rockwell’s work invariably has some story behind it. For instance, in one of his black and white paintings, one confronts an image of the artist himself, arms fully spread, with bright light radiating from his torso, titled My Spirit Lives Here! (1996). Nearby is another image of him, titled Blackout, which in contrast to his effulgent self, has him shrouded in darkness – his features barely discernible.

My Spirit Lives Here! 1996, acrylic on masonite, 32 x 32 inches (Inspired by the January 2, 1996 visit to the Ernie Wolfe Gallery in Santa Monica, California). Courtesy of the artist
My Spirit Lives Here! 1996, acrylic on masonite, 32 x 32 inches (Inspired by the January 2, 1996 visit to the Ernie Wolfe Gallery in Santa Monica, California). Courtesy of the artist

These two paintings are part of a series of five, on the theme of meditating on various spaces in galleries, that is ostensibly based on a story akin to that in the Bible of the conversion of Paul on the road to Damascus. A journey from the infidel’s blindness to the light of faith. But any such story line surmised by the viewer, it turns out, is post hoc. The order of the paintings was chosen long afterwards. Each is a record of some event he experienced while executing a performance he titled Meditations on Space. It involved him showing up in some reputable gallery in Switzerland, France, Toronto, Los Angeles or New York, announcing to its custodians that he was there to meditate on the gallery space. Most acquiesced and let him be. But part of the performance concerned his interactions with people and with the space itself. While in the Ernie Wolfe Gallery, Los Angeles, for instance, its owner shouted out to Rockwell ‘This is where I live. My spirit lives here!’, hence the title of the painting mentioned above.

Meditations on Space, 1996, acrylic on masonite, 32 x 32 inches (Inspired by the September 20, 1995 visit to Galerie Jamile Weber in Zurich, Switzerland). Courtesy of the artist
Meditations on Space, 1996, acrylic on masonite, 32 x 32 inches (Inspired by the September 20, 1995 visit to Galerie Jamile Weber in Zurich, Switzerland). Courtesy of the artist

While these works are not literally biblical in derivation, they do touch on big questions – on life and death specifically. In Blackout we see a grainy barely discernible image of Rockwell’s face. It inspired by an episode while visiting and meditating on a gallery space when he was suddenly plunged into darkness, due to a power outage of course. In his depiction of this event Rockwell chose to render himself, despite the almost total darkness, as a comment on our perception of darkness. As Rockwell points out, normally – at night, closing our eyes etc., – we do not in fact experience total black. Instead we ‘see’ what are sometimes called phosphenes, namely internally generated patterns. The image of his face that we see imitates this experience. Only death leads to true blackness in this sense. Likewise, light is obviously associated with life. Hence Rockwell’s choice of painting in black and white – emblematic of pure light and darkness, i.e., life and death.

Blackout, 1996, acrylic on masonite, 32 x 32 inches (Inspired by the October 3, 1995 visit to Galerie Lahumiere in Paris, France). Courtesy of the artist
Blackout, 1996, acrylic on masonite, 32 x 32 inches (Inspired by the October 3, 1995 visit to Galerie Lahumiere in Paris, France). Courtesy of the artist

Rockwell’s performances on the theme of galleries goes back to about a decade earlier. In 1988 he decided to drop by at 64 of Toronto’s galleries, and ask their owners or administrators to fill out a form indicating in which direction their main entrance faces – north, east, south or west. Using the information he received he built a model, displayed on the wall, representing each gallery as a compartment on a square grid. A small aperture on the respective wall of each indicates the direction of the entrance. Here one is reminded of Sol Le Witt’s work, e.g., his permutations of the edges of a cube. The appearance of the material art object is entirely determined by the rules underwriting its construction. Indeed, Le Witt has been a major influence on Rockwell. This year Rockwell repeated the performance. In the updated version he struggled, sadly, to find 64 galleries in the city.

Gallery Space, 1988 (left) and Gallery Space 2025 (right) both house paint on mahogony panel and card, laser transfer text, 14 x 14 x 2 inches. Photo: Hugh Alcock
Gallery Space, 1988 (left) and Gallery Space 2025 (right) both house paint on mahogony panel and card, laser transfer text, 14 x 14 x 2 inches. Photo: Hugh Alcock

Rockwell’s original motive for this earlier gallery performance was to find a way to introduce himself to the various galleries, and learn how they operate. This kernel of an idea became an abiding theme for him. As well, it is illustrative of Rockwell’s entrepreneurship, his willingness to go out and introduce himself and his ideas, more importantly, to people. As testament to the footwork this performance demanded, he has chosen to encase, and thus preserve, the very pair of shoes he wore walking around the city.

Gallery Space (Shoes), 1988, acrylic, wood floor, shoes, 14 x 14 x 15 inches. Courtesy of the artist
Gallery Space (Shoes), 1988, acrylic, wood floor, shoes, 14 x 14 x 15 inches. Courtesy of the artist

Here we see Rockwell’s wit – humour and sharp intelligence – shining through. Although physically the work occupies a modest amount of space, it brims over with ideas and reflections on the nature of art itself. Clearly Rockwell loves art, both the making of it and as its cultural wealth. Not to be missed as well is an array of collages he has meticulously produced – small works on paper – that investigate the margins of pictures and images. Beautiful work altogether.

Installation view with collages, each 2025, dArt pages with oil, 7 x 8.5 inches. Photo: Hugh Alcock
Installation view with collages, each 2025, dArt pages with oil, 7 x 8.5 inches. Photo: Hugh Alcock

*Exhibition information: Steve Rockwell, Meditations on Space, June 5 – 30, 2025, Sheff Contemporary, 1276 Danforth Ave, Toronto. By appointment only (416-792-7792).

Sylvia Galbraith at Abbozzo Gallery

by Emese Krunak-Hajagos

Seeing the description for Sylvia Galbraith’s Loretta’s Place in the catalogue for CONTACT 2025 I was hooked right away. Then I received an email from Abbozzo Gallery promoting Galbraith’s exhibition and the image looked as though it was in 3D—projected on the wall of the gallery. But when I finally visited the gallery, I saw the actual artwork—a large photograph on the main wall. I stood rooted in front of it, forgetting about the place and time— I just floated into its magic world.

There are two different worlds combined into that one image of a rather abandoned looking room with a bed frame, as though someone had just departed or the room was waiting for a new occupant. There is a rug on the floor and wood we expect to see on the floor now on the ceiling. But what makes this image unique is the upside-down landscape on the walls. Galbraith used a camera obscura when photographing the landscapes in Newfoundland, so the inverted images are inverted. But it is much more than that. Neither the room nor the rural landscape is interesting in its own. However, through combining them in this way, they undergo a metamorphosis. The interior opens and the landscape becomes part of the room, but not like a picture on the wall. Grass grows, buildings emerge, and we no longer know when the inside ends and the outside begins. Inside and outside become one, a mesmerizing symbiosis.

Sylvia Galbraith, Loretta’s Place, 2019, archival pigment print, 60 x 90 inches. ©Sylvia Galbraith, courtesy of Abbozzo Gallery
Sylvia Galbraith, Loretta’s Place, 2019, archival pigment print, 60 x 90 inches. ©Sylvia Galbraith, courtesy of Abbozzo Gallery

The Exhibition Statement mentions that the artist was “particularly interested in relationships between buildings and people”. However, none the photographs include people. Galbraith talks about people in their absence, like poetry does. The objects and landscapes resemble history, social status and there are real landscapes in their physicality. But what is physical? Can it be modified by our perception or even by the technique of the camera obscura? When does reality end and our dreams and memories start filling the place? In these photographs you can no longer separate them, they merge, creating an illusion that overshadows any possible reality. Looking at them you find yourself in a very different world, where interior and exterior no longer exist; an ethereal place has been created.

The title of the exhibition What Time Is This Place?, is very important. The photographs depict the rural landscape of Newfoundland in reality, as an outpost with common buildings. How do those people get here? Why? Is it an escape or a conscientious choice? Do they fit in or misplaced? We can guess their history, past and present and their social status. In Loretta’s Place the bottom of the walls in the room are sky-blue, the landscape is green, the buildings are yellow and white while the floor, the bed and the ceiling are dark, creating a dramatic contrast. The bed made me think of possible interactions between objects and people. It is just the frame, hinting at the absence of a person. But what does an absence really mean? Years ago, when I moved into my apartment, there was abandoned furniture in it that an old person left behind. For some time, I felt the presence of him, like a imprint of his memory was still there. The same is true for Galbraith photographs. Loretta might be a poor person, in a small, rural place, who still needs to buy a mattress and bed clothes. Very little else can fit into that tiny place. I think she is somewhat misplaced. This room can’t be the place she dreamed about.

Gary’s Place, Living Room (2019) is a comfortable space with a couch and framed pictures on the wall, that are overlapped with the landscape. A piano at the wall suggests that he is a music lover. His story is very different from Loretta’s. I am aware that I am creating my own narrative here, and I am sure everyone else will do the same. It is a good thing to be so deeply involved in the image.

Sylvia Galbraith, Gary's Place, Living Room, 2019, archival pigment print on Hahnemuhle Gloss paper, 24 x 36 inches. ©Sylvia Galbraith, courtesy of Abbozzo Gallery
Sylvia Galbraith, Gary’s Place, Living Room, 2019, archival pigment print on Hahnemuhle Gloss paper, 24 x 36 inches. ©Sylvia Galbraith, courtesy of Abbozzo Gallery

Some of the photographs give away their locations, like Main Road with Boats and Butterflies (2022), where the landscape is dominant. It is a nicely painted room with an antique lamp and books on a dresser, suggesting that the person who lives in it can afford beautiful, expensive things. The landscape depicts a harbor and a more populated area, a village or a small town. Butterflies fly out of the landscape, further confusing the viewer about where the landscapes ends and the interior takes over. The ceiling is another photograph that looks like a rock with some grass. It is not easy to decipher what we see or where we are.

Sylvia Galbraith, Gary's Place, Living Room, 2019, archival pigment print on Hahnemuhle Gloss paper, 24 x 36 inches. ©Sylvia Galbraith, courtesy of Abbozzo Gallery
Sylvia Galbraith, Main Road With Boats and Butterflies, 2022,
archival pigment print on Hahnemuhle Gloss paper, 24 x 36 inches. ©Sylvia Galbraith, courtesy of Abbozzo Gallery

Morning in the Red Cliffe Kitchen (2024), located in a town, where the only thing you can see is the wall and windows of the neighboring building, giving me the feeling of a suffocating, little space. Everything is old—almost grandmotherly—the stove, the couch, covered with a blanket, a chair with a pillow, the lace curtain. As in all Galbraith’s photographs, the colors are important. The vibrant reddish brown on the left contrasts the white stove, the shining kettle and the white fence, creating a quiet interior.

Sylvia Galbraith, Morning in the Red Cliffe Kitchen, 2024, archival pigment print, 40 x 60 inches. ©Sylvia Galbraith, courtesy of Abbozzo Gallery
Sylvia Galbraith, Morning in the Red Cliffe Kitchen, 2024, archival pigment print, 40 x 60 inches. ©Sylvia Galbraith, courtesy of Abbozzo Gallery

Each photograph combines the inside of a living area with the surrounding landscape, focusing on the interaction between them. Every place has a strong impact on the people occupying them. Our personality is formed by our surroundings, whether it’s a busy city with noisy traffic or the countryside with a lake or ocean. According to that we become busy, hurried or eccentric, peaceful.

Our influence on the landscape can be positive or hurtful. I also believe that we may influence the buildings we live in. Whatever we do—work, cook or play the piano—our happiness or sadness leave a print on the walls and our memories live on in them. These photographs capture these ideas beautifully. As gallery manager, Blake Zigrossi said, they are more than photographs, they are “meta-photographs”, metaphors of our life.


Sylvia Galbraith, What Time Is This Place?, May 9 – June 7, 2025, Abbozzo Gallery, 401 Richmond Street West, Suite 128, Toronto. Gallery hours: Tue – Fri 11am – 6pm, Sat 11am – 5pm.

Titans of Sculpture: Henry Moore and Marino Marini

by Roy Bernardi

Henry Moore (30 July 1898 – 31 August 1986) was an English artist. He is best known for his semi-abstract monumental bronze sculptures which are located around the world as public works of art. His sculpture style was significantly influenced by his experience as a soldier in World War I. Moore also produced many drawings, including a series depicting the Second World War, along with other graphic works and studies on paper. 

Marino Marini (27 February 1901 – 6 August 1980) was an Italian sculpture and educator. He initially trained as a painter in Florence before transitioning to sculpture. While he continued to engage in drawing and painting, Marini focused mainly on sculpture starting around 1922. Known for his figurative sculptures, particularly the “horse and rider” theme, which he explored throughout his career. In 1929, he took over from Arturo Martini as a professor at the Scuola d’Arte di Villa Reale in Monza, close to Milan, Italy, a role he held until 1940.

Henry Moore and Marino Marini, 1970, (detail) Gelatin silver print by Yousuf Karsh

Henry Moore and Marino Marini were introduced in 1951 by the New York art dealer Curt Valentin, leading to a significant friendship that endured throughout their careers. They often met along the Tuscan coast in Italy during the 1960s and 1970s, where Marini lived and Moore had a vacation residence. Both artists sought to revisit and modernize the European sculptural tradition, which Tuscany offered many exceptional examples. They shared numerous creative interests and held deep admiration for one another. Together, they cultivated a network of friendships and professional relationships with notable artists and intellectuals, including Jean Arp, Max Beckmann, Salvador Dali, Alexander Calder, Yves Tanguy, Lyonel Feininger, Alberto Giacometti, and Jacques Lipchitz.

Marino Marini, Due Figure, 1941, oil, tempera, pen, india ink, brown ink and pastel on paper (13.5 x 10.25 inches)
Marino Marini, Due Figure, 1941, oil, tempera, pen, india ink, brown ink and pastel on paper (13.5 x 10.25 inches)

It is intriguing to note that both artists subconsciously exhibited remarkably similar artistic styles in their drawings, particularly in their early drawings from the 1940s. Their drawings predominantly focused on potential sculptural figures, as demonstrated in the drawings presented here. The figures in Marini’s Due Figure from 1941, created with oil, tempera, pen, India ink, brown ink, and pastel on paper, and Moore’s Draped Standing Figures in Red from 1944, executed in pencil, ink, wax crayon, and watercolour, reveal a striking resemblance when placed side by side. Both artists are utilizing mixed media materials on paper of comparable dimensions. It is clear that these illustrations depict figures arranged as non-objective prospective subjects in a sculptural context. The Vatican Museum contains a small drawing by Moore and features a collection specifically focused on Marini’s early works on paper.

Henry Moore, Draped Standing Figures in Red, 1944, pencil, ink, wax crayon and watercolour (15.75 x 12.25 inches)
Henry Moore, Draped Standing Figures in Red, 1944, pencil, ink, wax crayon and watercolour (15.75 x 12.25 inches)

Two talented artists who unknowingly shared a strikingly similar artistic journey in their early works. Both artists hailed from different backgrounds (Marini from Italy, Moore from England) but found their calling in the realm of art, showcasing unique perspectives and creative flair in their works on paper. From a young age, these artists displayed a natural inclination towards art, doodling on any surface they could find and immersing themselves in colours and shapes that ignited their imagination. Haunted by the war and the suffering of civilians he observed during the bombings, Moore’s artistic themes were significantly shaped by these experiences. Meanwhile, Marini’s artistic style underwent a transformation due to the war, moving away from the smoother, classical forms of his earlier works towards a more jagged, Expressionist style that reflected his anxieties and disillusionment with humanity in the aftermath of the war.

Combining the enigmatic allure of artistic expression with the intricacies of the subconscious mind, the intriguing parallels between two renowned artists’ early works have captivated art enthusiasts and scholars alike. It’s a fascinating intersection of creativity, influence, and individual style as these artists, perhaps unknowingly, manifested remarkably similar artistic techniques in their works during the formative stages of their careers. Through a journey of discovery and analysis, we can unravel the threads that connect these artists’ early artistic endeavours, shedding light on the subconscious forces at play in shaping their distinctive visual languages. 

Marino Marini, Pomona, 1943, oil, pastel and black crayon on paper (15.12 x 11.12 inches) (left) - Henry Moore, Two Women and a child, 1940, pencil, wax crayon, coloured crayon, watercolour wash and ink (15.75 x 11.75 inches) (right)
Left: Marino Marini, Pomona, 1943, oil, pastel and black crayon on paper (15.12 x 11.12 inches). Right: Henry Moore, Two Women and a child, 1940, pencil, wax crayon, coloured crayon, watercolour wash and ink (15.75 x 11.75 inches)

Despite their unique perspectives, these artists often incorporated similar elements in their compositions, from the arrangement of subjects to the harmonious blend of colours that evoked a sense of unity and cohesion in their artworks. It is intriguing to explore how unconscious influences, such as personal experiences, emotions, and cultural backgrounds, may have shaped the artists’ early artistic expressions. Delving into the depths of the subconscious unveils a rich tapestry of inspiration within their works. They collectively transformed classical sculpture into a more figurative semi-abstract style that aligned with contemporary trends.

They shared a profound admiration for Michelangelo’s sculptures, particularly David (1501-1504) and Pietà (1498-1499), the latter illustrating Mary holding the lifeless body of Jesus after the Crucifixion. Both masterpieces were crafted from marble extracted from the nearby Carrara quarries. Notably, the Pietà is distinguished as the only artwork that Michelangelo ever signed. On 21 May 1972, this sculpture, located in St. Peter’s Basilica in Vatican City, suffered damage when a mentally unstable geologist, originally from Hungary and residing in Australia, entered the chapel and assaulted the statue with a geologist’s hammer, proclaiming, ‘I am Jesus Christ; I have risen from the dead!’.

Henry Moore, Reclining Figure, 1969-1970, Bronze with brown patina
Henry Moore, Reclining Figure, 1969-1970, Bronze with brown patina

On the 15 December, 2005, a bronze statue by Moore, entitled Reclining Figure (1969-1970), depicting an abstract female figure, lying on her back with her legs raised and feet grounded, supported on one arm and resting on her hip. Valued at £3 million, was stolen from the courtyard of the Henry Moore Foundation located in Perry Green, Hertfordshire, England. The sculpture which weighed 2.1 tons and measured 3.6 metres in length was lifted using a crane and transported away on a flatbed truck. It is believed that the statue was melted down and sold for £5,000 as scrap metal. Six casts of the reclining figure were created in total.

Marino Marini, The Angel of the City, 1948, Bronze with brown patina
Marino Marini, The Angel of the City, 1948, Bronze with brown patina

Marini’s sculpture titled The Angel of the City (1948) a seminal work by the Italian artist depicts a nude man sitting with outstretched arms on a horse. There are castings on display at the Peggy Guggenheim Collection in Venice, as well as the J. Paul Getty Museum in Los Angeles. This piece was one of Fallingwater, Pennsylvania, USA’s most prominent pieces of art lost during a flood at Bear Run Nature Reserve in August 1956. The sculpture was part of the Kaufmann family collection and was lost for years until found in fragments in August 2009.

Both artists achieved global recognition during their careers, showcasing their art work at prominent museum exhibitions and receiving numerous accolades worldwide for their work. Both are in collections with works in hundreds of galleries, museums and public spaces throughout the world.

Marino Marini, Ballerino, 1954, Bronze with dark brown patina (left) Henry Moore, Mother and child, 1980, Bronze with dark brown patina (right) 
Marino Marini, Ballerino, 1954, Bronze with dark brown patina (left) Henry Moore, Mother and child, 1980, Bronze with dark brown patina (right) 

The Art Gallery of Ontario (AGO) located in Toronto, Ontario, Canada, is home to the world’s most extensive public collection of Henry Moore’s art, encompassing sculptures, maquettes, and works on paper, largely donated by the artist himself during the years 1971 to 1974. The Henry Moore Sculpture Centre was inaugurated at the AGO in 1974 to showcase Moore’s original donation and has since become a landmark in Toronto.

The Marino Marini Museum, located in Florence, Italy, is dedicated to the artist’s legacy and creations. Occupying the former San Pancrazio Church, the museum displays a rich collection of Marini’s sculptures, paintings, and drawings, offering valuable insights into his artistic progression and journey.

Danielle Frankenthal: Playing with Light

by John Mendelsohn

What need do we have for words when we have paintings, particularly the kind of lyrical and abstract works that Danielle Frankenthal offers us in her current exhibition? These are often extravagant, gestural works that are abundant in high color and visual movement. What challenges the writer is to order his thoughts about paintings that seems to ask us to forsake cognition in favor of pure sensation.

Danielle Frankenthal, Mist #2, 2024, acrylic paint, oil stick on acrylic resin, 48 x 48 in.
Danielle Frankenthal, Mist #2, 2024, acrylic paint, oil stick on acrylic resin, 48 x 48 in.

But despite the pleasures of innocent, sensuous looking that these paintings afford, our enquiring mind is nonetheless activated. First, there is the question of the unusual support of these works – square sheets of clear acrylic resin that are joined into a single box. Acrylic paint and oil stick have been applied to the inner and outer surfaces of the plastic panels, resulting in a kind of painterly diorama or stage set that deploys multiple scrims. The effect is to deconstruct the traditional layering of a painting into discrete planes, that coalesce into a comprehensible, if unstable image.

Danielle Frankenthal, L'Heure Bleu, 2023, acrylic paint, oil stick on acrylic resin, 50 x 50 in.
Danielle Frankenthal, L’Heure Bleu, 2023, acrylic paint, oil stick on acrylic resin, 50 x 50 in.

This effect of suspended marks is essential to these paintings, creating a kind of holographic presence in which the painted gestures shift from planar to dimensional space. Our second question is how this curious phenomenon is part of Frankenthal’s expressive endeavor. The exhibition has work from two series, Clouds and Gardens. The former benefits from the floating quality of the multiple planes of depths in the paintings, to evoke fugitive color and atmospheric vapors.

Danielle Frankenthal, L’Apresmidi d’une Faune, (Diptych), 2024, acrylic paint, oil stick, metal gilding on acrylic resin, 50 x 50 in.
Danielle Frankenthal, L’Apresmidi d’une Faune(Diptych), 2024, acrylic paint, oil stick, metal gilding on acrylic resin, 50 x 50 in.

A prime example is Mist 2, with its upper expanse the color of agitated fog, above a lower, coppery register. In the Clouds paintings, at times light is conjured literally through the use of pearlescent and metallic pigments. The many qualities of light constitute a continual focus in Frankenthal’s work, here intimating the diffused illumination of dawn.

A painting of the Gardens series, L’Apresmidi d’une Faune, is a diptych whose title simultaneously suggests the Mallarmé poem, the Debussy symphonic work which it inspired, and the ballet of the same name by Nijinsky. The double painting repeats, with variations, a pastoral setting with a mottled sky, a gilded glow of light, and a violent red passage that suggest the satyr’s sensual exploits. Leaping arabesques in black oil stick capture the sense of intoxicated dance.

Danielle Frankenthal, Garden 3, 2024, acrylic paint, oil stick on phosphorescent acrylic resin,
50 x 50 in.
Danielle Frankenthal, Garden 3, 2024, acrylic paint, oil stick on phosphorescent acrylic resin, 50 x 50 in.

Garden 3, with its turbulent sky, rising land, and turquoise vegetation, is the most recognizable landscape of the series. It becomes a terra incognita by an overlay of wild, wind-blown lines and the use of phosphorescent acrylic resin. This glow-in-the-dark effect reminds us that this artist is both a seeker after original expression, and part of a lineage of painting that draws its inspiration from nature, stretching back to Monet, and moving forward through Joan Mitchell and Helen Frankenthaler.

Danielle Frankenthal: Playing with Light, Curated by Lilly Wei, through April 5, 2025, L’SPACE Gallery, New York, 524 W. 19 St., New York, NY

Light: Visionary Perspectives at the Aga Khan Museum

by Emese Krunak-Hajagos

The entire Aga Khan Museum was designed around light, so as its 10th anniversary approached the curators decided to celebrate it with an exhibition entirely about light.

Light is central to the museum and visitors experience it right away upon entering the building. In the hallway, To Breathe, Korean artist Kimsooja’s site-specific installation takes us to a different dimension, a dimension of magical light. The windows are covered with diffraction grating film and as daylight passes through it reveals rainbows throughout the space. The magic of this work is in making the invisible visible. Coloured light always amazes and fills us with joy. This kind of play with light can be found on many levels of the museum, shining through windows and creating its own ‘artworks’ on walls and floors.

Kimsooja, To Breathe, 2015, Site-specific installation consisting of diffraction grating film. Commissioned by Centre Pompidou-Metz. Courtesy of Institut français/Année France Corée and Kimsooja Studio. Photography Credit: Jaeho Chong.
Kimsooja, To Breathe, 2015, Site-specific installation consisting of diffraction grating film. Commissioned by Centre Pompidou-Metz. Courtesy of Institut français/Année France Corée and Kimsooja Studio. Photography Credit: Jaeho Chong.


There is nothing better than light as the focus for the anniversary exhibition. There are so many kinds: the light of the sun, the moon and the light inside us, the light we absorb and the light we radiate. The exhibition titled, Light: Visionary Perspectives, is an amazing combination of scientific and spiritual approaches, involving both historical and contemporary visions.

Tannis Nielsen’s, mazinibii’igan / a creation (2020) is the first piece I see. The Anishinaabemowin word ‘mazinibii’igan’ means “a drawing, a sketch, or a design.” It is a continuous video installation with many possible beginnings and endings. The installation is a result of Tannis Nielsen’s research into electromagnetic energies. She discovered that residual radiation stems from the Big Bang, believed to be the origin of the universe.
Stepping into the installation I am enveloped by darkness. It must be the beginning of the universe when nothing existed. Then some weak light grows, and I hang on to it with hope, as any little light is better than total darkness. Suddenly bright lights with impressive soundtracks surround me and it is almost too much, but I lose myself in this otherworldly installation and stop thinking. It surrounds me. As the story told by Elder Marie Gaudet (Turtle Clan Anishinaabe from Wikwemikong), a knowledge keeper and practitioner of healing songs and ceremonies, the installation invites us to reimagine creation. So, it seems I am inside the process of the creation that started, as the narrative says, with a single light emerging from the darkness. Am I swallowed by this installation? I feel I’m in the middle of it, totally absorbed by the darkening and lightening universe. It is a very complex world where dark, light, sound, narrative and music work together perfectly as I become part of the creation. It feels so good, uplifting and I am happy and amazed. Will I ever be able to leave it or do I want to stay inside and see what comes next? It is pulsating with energy, and I feel absorbed in it, an almost physical sensation. It is also very spiritual and mesmerizing. It was hard to distance myself from this installation and I needed some time to re-enter reality.

Tannis Nielsen, mazinibii’igan / a creation, 2020. Digital video, artist’s own footage and derivative. Story and narration by Marie Gaudet. Courtesy of Tannis Nielsen. Photography credit: Aly Manji
Tannis Nielsen, mazinibii’igan / a creation, 2020. Digital video, artist’s own footage and derivative. Story and narration by Marie Gaudet. Courtesy of Tannis Nielsen. Photography credit: Aly Manji

What I saw next, I can barely call ‘reality’ as Anish Kapoor’s two mirrors, facing each other from opposite walls, playing a game with me, challenging my perception. It is about what we see or what we think we see. Long ago Muslim philosophers thought that the light came out from our eyes. In the main floor exhibition room, the book Opticae Thesaurus addresses this idea. The title of the book is a Latin translation of Kitab Al-Manazir (Book of Optics) by 10th-century Muslim scholar and mathematician Ibn al-Haytham. He revolutionized the field by arguing that sight is made possible by light traveling to the eye, rather than by light emanating from it. His discovery influenced the western world as well and led to the development of the camera obscura and, ultimately, the modern camera.

Kapoor’s two mirrored disks, one made of steel and the other of wood and lacquer, remind me of our eyes. From their concave surface they show a view we don’t expect, seeing ourselves and the space in a different way. It is very complex. First, from a distance you see yourself upside down, then, as you get a closer look, you are standing on the ground again. The mirror is creating its own reality. Mirrors in art often denote self-reflection, so what’s happening here? Which one of the images is real or is all just visual illusion? As Bita Pourvash, Associate Curator, Aga Khan Museum says, “we also must understand that we don’t only see with our eyes but with our mind and heart and how they are connected in creating an image.”

I visited the exhibition a day before it opened, and the light was somewhat erratic, some areas a little darker. Stepping out of the view of the mirrors and looking back as they were reflecting on each other I wondered if, somehow, they communicate with each other in the dark when no one is around, sharing their experiences of us and how their tricks confused us.

Anish Kapoor, Mirror (Mipa Blue to Organic Green), 2016. Stainless steel and lacquer. On loan from George Yabu and Glenn Pushelberg. Photography credit: Connor Remus.
Anish Kapoor,Mirror (Mipa Blue to Organic Green), 2016. Stainless steel and lacquer. On loan from George Yabu and Glenn Pushelberg. Photography credit: Connor Remus.

The title A Thousand Silent Moments (Rain Forest) reminds me of Gabriel García Márquez’s book, One Hundred Years of Solitude, that also takes place in a rain forest. It is a magical story like Anila Quayyum Agha’s. Inspired by objects and paintings in the museum collections, American-Pakistani artist, Anila Quayyum Agha, created a lacquered steel and LED installation. On the walls and on the floor, we see a series of laser cut patterns of flowers, leaves and animals from various cultures and historical periods projected from the glass box in the middle of the room. A bright green light surrounds me. At first, I thought, how peaceful. Indeed, it is beautiful; it is paradise or the garden of Eden — harmony is created. Then I recognize that my shadow becomes part of the installation, appearing on the floor and on the walls. The installation is built on contrasting elements: light and shadow. They play, they change as the movement continues. It reminds me of lying under a large tree on a summer day, looking at the light coming through the leaves. It is, like this installation, wonderful and peaceful; I could enjoy it all day long. However, we all know that where there is light, there is shadow, as shadow can’t exist without light. As I walk further into the room and look in every possible direction, I become even more aware of my shadow becoming an interactive part of this installation. There is a very intense movement of images and light, everything is changing. The harmony I felt at first, suddenly breaks. I feel the opposing forces, light and shadow, including my own, as though they are in a dialog. As Quayyum Agha says about her work, “light and pattern are intentionally utilized to create ‘perceptually soothing and conceptually challenging environments.”

Anila Quayyum Agha, A Thousand Silent Moments (Rain Forest), 2024. Laser-cut resin-coated aluminum, Light Bulb. Lacquered steel and LED bulbs. Commissioned by the Aga Khan Museum. Photography Credit: Aly Manji.
Anila Quayyum Agha, A Thousand Silent Moments (Rain Forest), 2024. Laser-cut resin-coated aluminum, Light Bulb. Lacquered steel and LED bulbs. Commissioned by the Aga Khan Museum. Photography Credit: Aly Manji.

The tower-like installation, The Matriarch: Unraveled Threads, by Montreal-based Cameroonian-Belgian artist Mallory Lowe Mpoka contains more than 300 panels. The artist decided to create it when her grandmother passed away and she unexpectedly became the matriarch of her family.

The lighthouse is built from various materials and uses many mediums, like analog photography, screen printing, photo transfer, embroidery on dyed cotton and linen with red earth pigments, acrylic, paper, and steel. The fabric came from her family’s workshop in Cameroon and was dyed there with the earth. The photographs come from different sources, combining self-portraits with images from ancestral archives as well as contemporary portraits. The stories created by them are hypothetical, and do not follow any linear timeline. Together they create a circle, much like a tribal circle, where the main idea is to be together, belonging to the tribe and its history. The artist addresses the idea of how family continues to live in you and in generations to come. Not just your genes but your memories and cultural inheritance include more of the past, present and future than your individual time allows you to experience. The responsibility is to remember, share and pass down your cultural and historical inheritance. As the lighthouse guides people safely to shore, your guidance can influence coming generations to remember who they are and to make the right choices. It also reminds me of the symbol of a single candle shining in the dark. While there may be other lit candles as well, they can’t take away the light from yours. The images are illuminated from inside the lighthouse. Light, besides being a physical element in this artwork, also becomes a metaphor for enlightenment of the heart and mind.

Mallory Lowe Mpoka, The Matriarch: Unraveled Threads, 2021-2024. Analog photography, screen printing, photo transfer, embroidery on dyed cotton and linen with red earth pigments, acrylic, paper, and steel. Courtesy of the artist. Photography Credit: Rory Kearney-Fick.
Mallory Lowe Mpoka, The Matriarch: Unraveled Threads, 2021-2024. Analog photography, screen printing, photo transfer, embroidery on dyed cotton and linen with red earth pigments, acrylic, paper, and steel. Courtesy of the artist. Photography Credit: Rory Kearney-Fick.

Phillip K. Smith III’s Two Corners is a 3D work of colour-choreographed large reflective panels placed in two opposing corners of the room. It is a very intensive experience as I become a part of it when stepping into its universal space, surrounded by its ever-changing colours and interplaying light. Infinity is the right word to describe this installation. When I turned from one wall to another it seemed to open, giving me the feeling that I could walk further without any limit. The desert-like landscape horizon is confusing. I think it made me understand what a mirage really is. The changing of colors further deepens this impression. There is a blue sky filling the room for a short time, then the redness of a sunset or the greenness of fields. Sometimes the colors appear at the same time overlapping and framing each other. This shiny orgy of colors is bigger than my ‘perception’ and addresses the unconscientious layers of my brain. They instill different moods and feelings, turning my attention to these underrated territories of our minds.

Phillip K. Smith III, Two Corners, 2022. Aluminum, glass, LED lighting, electronic components, unique colour choreography. Courtesy of artist. Photography Credit: Aly Manji.
Phillip K. Smith III, Two Corners, 2022. Aluminum, glass, LED lighting, electronic components, unique colour choreography. Courtesy of artist. Photography Credit: Aly Manji.

As Marianne Fenton, Special Projects Curator, Aga Khan Museum summarized, “The installations and objects in the exhibition explore our shared humanity, encouraging us to experience light through the perspectives of these artists who have captured its emotional, spiritual, and physical presentations.” The exhibition, Light: Visionary Perspectives focuses on the power of light over darkness. Exploring both historical and contemporary understanding and creative interpretations of light. It shows us the possibility of new, hopeful horizons.

Images are courtesy of Aga Khan Museum.

*Exhibition information: Light: Visionary Perspectives, till April 21, 2025, Aga Khan Museum, 77 Wynford Drive, Toronto. Museum hours: Tue & Thu – Sun 10:30 am – 5:30 pm, Wed 10 am – 8 pm.