Another show that opened last year and will be closing at the end of this week is Nicole Eisenman’s STY at David Zwirner’s 52 Walker Street Gallery. Now, I only wish I could see it in person, as I still vividly remember roaming the rooms of the Whitechapel Gallery in London back in 2023, having my eyes and brain tickled by the 100s of works that comprised (and posed the question) What Happened. Instead, I’ve done my homework and gathered as many photos as I could to get the best possible impression and share my love for the incredible mind behind this unique and impactful presentation.
While looking at the photos of the installation’s sci-fi-ish sculptures, I figured the title of the show is a futuristic abbreviation, a tech-sounding code for something important yet not ready to be fully disclosed. And I’d like to believe that is intentional, cause finding out the real meaning makes it more of a punch in the face. STY primarily refers to a pigsty, a muddy, dirty fenced enclosure for pigs, and is used here as a metaphor for political filth, messiness, and the grubby nature of power. And knowing this sets an unsettling tone for the exhibition. From the rough, WIP panel-lined walls that evoke the atmosphere of temporarity, freaking fabulous paintings, random drawings, photographs, and post-it notes, to the dominating statues.
Now, I’d love to talk about the paintings, especially about what’s going on in Auction, 2025, or the way that The Bunker, 2025, is framed, but I’m just gonna fantasize about how the sculptures might feel in person. Made from scagliola, an artificial material that imitates the mighty marble, they feel a lot like the ideology-promoting public statues you’d see in single-ideology-powered societies. But instead of carrying guns or tools (rarely books), they are holding screens which loop iPhone clips, horror films, AI visuals, perhaps pointing at the indoctrination and the brain rot deterioration of all aspects of humanity. And entitled There I Was, 2025, these intimidating, dehumanizing, post-apocalyptic sculptures are framed as only the beginning of a dismal story unfolding before our eyes. —Saša Bogojev
