Lull is a group exhibition curated by Willy Somma, of artists exploring useful objects, inspired by abstraction that invite respite. Participating artists: Undisclosed Recipients by Victoria Bartlett & Zachary Joslow, Francesca Di-Mattio, Zhivago Duncan, Sylvia Estes, Neal Hollinger, Kiernan Kinsella, Alyssa McClenaghan, Tyrone Mitchell, Joan Oliver, Aurora Pellizzi, Brett Miller, Tschabalala Self, Kate Steciw, Katie Stout, Caroline Woolard.

A chubby green throne by Brett Miller abdicates power, a munificent leader declaring itself nothing if not supportive. Miller is a Hudson based designer who has established his studio under the name Jackrabbit. An apt reference for his pieces which hold a charming, whimsical and energetic quality. Baroque cushions with a collage of fabrics, trussed up by wrought iron scaffolding, architectural grids wide-legged and Rubenesque, the artist Tschabalala Self’s chaises provide a bountiful dock for landing. Materially and formally linked to the figurative works she is known for, Self’s sculpture-chairs don’t just suggest a body in repose, they gorgeously demand it.  

“To be seated is relatively simple,” she says, “but it can also be political.” - Tschabalala Self

Katie Stout’s statuesque domestic structures sport familiar, feminine forms. Stout’s practice is dedicated to reimagining traditional design, using classic materials to create non-traditional forms, pushing the boundaries of convention at every turn and corner. The assembled collection of artworks — whether reflecting, illuminating or accommodating — engage with our sentient human container, inviting us to enact this simple act of resistance; to exist for our own pleasure. With these works, the artists assert this basic human right, offering an opportunity to lull, pause, rest and be bodily, present. Hanging sculptural forms by Sylvia Estes glide above us contemplating their view; apostrophes, parentheses and ellipses, gently illuminated. A wooden rocker by Caroline Woolard is posited as a queer haven, a safe space to sway and dream. Aurora Pellizzi’s wall works trace the outline of a swimmer reaching into the deep, suspended. And with his charred stools carved from reclaimed wood Kieran Kinsella asks us in the language of trees to be still.

It’s this sentiment of spaciousness and reprieve that our current climate — fraught by violence and division — lacks. In their intent to please, brighten, comfort and thrill, these artists bring us closer to the intoxication of plentitude, absurdity and delight. Rococo pink with elaborate curves and ornamental flourishes, Francesca DiMattio’s objects shimmer and purr vying for our attention, our obsession, even. Alyssa McClenaghan’s disembodied hands, dangling languidly from chartreuse velvet towel racks could really care less. Neal Hollinger’s wall pieces nonchalantly blow smoke rings while Zhivago Duncan’s dopey caricatures are ignorantly blissed out, floating with cookie cutter grins over batik canvases, cartoonishly happy. 

Who can afford to be indifferent in these times? Apathy is an asset. Complacency is capital. Pomposity is prosperity. Who decrees our worth? Restitution is riches. Self love is success. Fortune favors the foolish. 

Photo montages by Kate Steciw of deconstructed vessels captivate with their fallen beauty amidst Victoria Bartlett’s skeletal anatomy renewed as a chair, poised with open arms while Laurie Olinder’s plump poufs embellished with a fantastical eden of plants, tendrils and blossoms appear to soften our fall. Joan Oliver weaves an entire galaxy onto textiles, pastel abstractions follow each other onto another swatch, another composition, another world. Sprouting sideways from the gallery wall and blooming objects from its limbs, Tyrone Mitchell’s assemblage announces itself as a fake, albeit charming, diversion. 

With this wide array of artists working in varying mediums with diverse objectives we seek to amuse bemuse relax entice and lull you. Join us for a laugh, a smoke, a nap. Non-action reaction capitulation glee joy nostalgia regret. Let’s take a moment to pause here and gather what we need for whatever comes next.