Joseph Cornell and Karen Kilimnik

Joseph Cornell’s and Karen Kilimnik’s oeuvres seem light-years apart. And after viewing this exhibition curated by Todd Levin, viewers might still struggle to grasp how the two artists have been brought any closer together. Amid piped-in ballet music, glitter-spangled walls, and spotlights that cast heavy halos, Cornell’s semisurreal boxes and Kilimnik’s ethereal oil paintings are hung side by side at uneven heights. It’s a strange setup for an even stranger conversation.

The exhibition’s premise is that a love of Romantic ballet informs the work of both American artists. This is undoubtedly true: Several of Cornell’s assemblages draw on imagery from his collection of ballet ephemera, while ballerinas flit lightly through many of Kilimnik’s paintings. Degas also makes an inevitable cameo appearance; a small work on paper by the master himself hangs in the final room. The question, though, is whether the ballet theme is a reasonable basis on which to draw connections between Cornell’s and Kilimnik’s respective practices. The answer is, probably not: Their formal, critical, and conceptual differences make the art-historical step between them too wide. But for all that, the exhibition does have its convincing moments. There are some very good individual works, including Cornell’s Homage to the Romantic Ballet, c. 1960, and Kilimnik’s The Head Witch’s House, Reception Room, 2005. Ballet aside, tangible links do emerge, such as the theatricality, quiet spectacle, and ideas of feminine beauty that both artists explore. Successful or not, Levin’s show is at least a bold curatorial statement. It deserves to be seen—for its eccentricity, if nothing else.