On September 24 I walked the Upper East Side galleries, starting at Salon 94 on East 89th Street and ending at White Cube, 1002 Madison Avenue. I stopped at Leila Heller on East 80th and at Bonner David and Jill Newhouse on East 81st. These are my notes on the work, the buildings, and what it felt like to visit.
Anthea Hamilton at Salon 94.
What was the can't-miss stop?
Salon 94. The pieces were showstopping and whimsical, and the grand, Parisian-feeling rooms made the visit feel theatrical. Anthea Hamilton's giant green leather pumpkins on the checkered floor stayed with me, as did the color and playfulness of the Gaetano Pesce chairs and objects across the building. I also stopped in front of Andy Warhol's portrait of Joseph Beuys. That turquoise face and black hat held the room for me.
What else stayed with you from the walk?
The Wild Within at Leila Heller on East 80th. Ryan Koopmans and Alice Wexell take grand, abandoned interiors and let plants and flowers reclaim them. I loved the different ways they let you engage with the same subject: large photographic images, moving images, and a screen showing a quiet, natural scene that I found genuinely relaxing. The rooms felt whimsical and deeply moving at the same time. Instead of one image of a place, you were invited to spend time inside its atmosphere.
Much of the evening was installation-focused. I saw large, triumphant pieces made with materials like wood and cloth, alongside screens. I could see an artist on the phone in an adjacent office, but didn't have a chance to speak with them.
What makes the Upper East Side such a good place to explore galleries is that each building takes you back to the time and place in which it was built. On East 80th, exquisite white crown molding framed the work. White Cube occupies a former 1930 bank on Madison Avenue. At 4 East 81st, Jill Newhouse and Bonner David share a quaint, lived-in townhouse. Each building feels as singular as the artwork inside it. Upstairs at Bonner David, Garden Party brought together Hunt Slonem's flowers and Kevin Box's folded forms. I told a director how much I liked the space; they smiled and said they had moved in six months ago and loved it too. That little exchange stayed with me.
At Jill Newhouse, someone told me about the gallery's focus on 19th- and 20th-century works on paper. I see the appeal of spending time with art across that history. What I love at Current Arts is working with living artists, being in conversation with the people making the work now. Bringing music into the gallery lightens the atmosphere. It makes the experience more human, and the connection to the art feel more open.
What did the walk make you think about Current Arts?
What struck me was how quiet it was, and how hard some galleries made it to feel welcome. After walking for a while, even finding water was difficult. At one gallery we were asked to sign in almost immediately; at others, prices were dropped into conversation in a way that felt designed to shock rather than invite one. I can't know what sells behind closed doors, but I didn't feel as though these openings expected the public to come in and stay.
I also overheard a seller talking too much about a work. It reminded me to stop talking in that moment. The seller may have seen it a thousand times, but the person looking at it brings their own eyes and their own thoughts. I'd rather ask what room they can imagine it in, then listen.
That's the kind of room I want at Current Arts. I want someone to be able to walk in, take a breath, look closely, ask a question and imagine a work in their own space. You shouldn't have to sign in before you feel welcome, and talking about a price shouldn't end the conversation. Current Arts is designed as a living room. We invite the artists' circle in with the public, creating an atmosphere of the artists' world that brought the work into being.
Photographs courtesy of Current Arts.
Ashley Frey is an independent journalist covering art and culture.