Lina Kavaliunas

  • Jamian Juliano-Villani

    The act of opening a door seems stupidly simple, but that’s exactly why it’s particularly nerve-racking when you’re uncertain about how to do it. When anxiousness leads to overthinking, even the most straightforward things become complicated. This same anxiety could be found in Does This Slide or Do I Pull (all works 2018), where a frog sits on the second rung of a ladder, contemplating the titular question. In a zine produced for the occasion of the show, Jamian Juliano-Villani’s second at JTT, the work was captioned with a different title, After School, pointing to another anxious moment of

  • Rebecca Shore

    On an immediate level, Rebecca Shore’s paintings are impeccably rendered arrangements of ribbons, strings, hoops, chains, and the occasional tassel: They seem to collect emblems of decor, suspending them above and between bold monochromatic forms of a vaguely Victorian persuasion. (The artist’s maternal grandparents were born in the late 1800s, and their various home wares—candlesticks, saltshakers, and the like––left a lasting impression.) The patterns that emerge—each the result of Shore’s dedicated preservation of a consistent interval between her motifs––are visually captivating

  • GaHee Park

    There are three people in the room. The mustachioed man on the right shades his eyes beneath an ocher hat. A cigar sits assertively between his middle and index fingers, emitting a plume of smoke that seeps across the scene like the beam of a flashlight, its haze illuminating the nude woman reclining in the pool outside. A second man occupies the left side of the space, his legs crossed and his gaze turned toward the window. A glass of pink champagne rests in his right hand, pinkie erect in a gesture at once vaguely pretentious and potentially perverse. Someone has placed a hand on his shoulder,

  • “Július Koller: One Man Anti Show”

    In 1971, Július Koller (1933–2007) envisioned a gallery atop a mountain in Slovakia’s High Tatras. This private, fictive space—the UFO Gallery Ganek, as it came to be known—was a liberating alternative to the official institutions of the Soviet state, a refuge where thought could flow freely and information had no limits. Though Koller’s gallery was imaginary, it was nevertheless a frame for the creation of real works, including drawings, photographs, “anti-paintings,” and cards made with a children’s printing set. This