In Flying Woman, Katherine Bradford presents a body of paintings centered on figures in motion—floating, leaping, and suspended against fields of luminous color. The exhibition highlights Bradford’s distinctive ability to balance vulnerability and strength, using simplified forms and saturated palettes to explore freedom, risk, and emotional resilience.

Through clay and care, Reverend Joyce McDonald transforms pain into hope — her small sculptures evoke rest, resilience, and repair, breathing tenderness and power into every gesture.

Sherald paints Black life with quiet power and perfect poise. Her portraits glow from within—otherworldly yet unmistakably real. You feel the stillness, the grace, and the invitation to really see.

Semo turns sound into sculpture—massive bronze bells that you can touch, strike, and hear echo back at you. They ring with memory and presence, transforming the gallery into a shared moment of vibration.

Dyson’s monumental steel forms shape how you move and breathe through space. She’s thinking about freedom, geography, and the body—and how abstract art can hold all of that at once.

In her Dia Beacon solo exhibition, Renée Green weaves archival fragments, multimedia works, and poetic signage into a subtly disorienting narrative about geography, memory, and systems of knowledge.

Kim translates sound into something you can see. Her work is funny, sharp, and political in the best way—turning the rules of communication inside out.

Bhabha’s towering figures feel ancient and futuristic all at once. Rough, powerful, and oddly tender, they hold the tension of survival—scarred but standing tall.

In Seed, Rose B. Simpson presents sculpture as an act of inheritance—objects shaped by lineage, land, and the passage of time. The work moves between monument and offering, holding space for growth, memory, and the quiet persistence of Indigenous knowledge.

Simpson’s figures are soulful, grounded, and strong. Each piece feels like a person who’s seen something—made of earth, but full of spirit.

Girlfriend Fund is proud to support Loie Hollowell: Space Between, A Survey of Ten Years at The Aldrich Contemporary Art Museum — a landmark exhibition tracing a decade of the artist’s exploration of abstraction, form, and the body. Through luminous color and sculptural depth, Hollowell transforms intimate experience into radiant geometry, inviting viewers to step into the space where emotion and material meet.

Babirye’s sculptures are proud, loud, and full of soul. Made from discarded materials, they become royal—queer monumentality at its finest.

Janiva Ellis turns myth, ruin, and cartoon into a charged landscape where Western painting collides with cultural collapse. In Fear Corroded Ape, unfinished canvases become alive again, asking what it means for images to resist resolution. Supported by Girlfriend Fund, the show revels in the messy, uncertain space between history and possibility.

Shechet’s sculptures are all personality—leaning, twisting, almost breathing. She lets imperfection take the lead, and the result is pure joy.

In Fixed Crane, Nicole Eisenman reimagines monumentality as something unstable and deeply human. The sculpture resists clean resolution, instead lingering in tension—between humor and discomfort, strength and fragility. Eisenman’s work invites viewers to reconsider who monuments serve and what stories they quietly uphold.

Kher’s hybrids—part goddess, part creature—rewire sculpture with bindi dots, cast bodies, and bronze power. Alchemies is a deep dive into transformation, myth, and material.

Walker’s imagination is razor-sharp and devastating. She unspools American myth through paper, metal, and motion—beauty as a weapon, history as a haunting.

Tacita Dean’s Landscape is a meditation on place, time, and observation, bringing together film and drawing to slow the act of looking and reframe the natural world as something quietly monumental.

Tracing Terruño presents Muriel Hasbún’s deeply personal photographic exploration of memory, displacement, and belonging. Through layered images that move between archive and lived experience, Hasbún traces the emotional and political terrain of exile, family history, and Central American identity.

Galanin’s work is about reclamation—of story, place, and voice. Every piece dismantles the colonial gaze with precision and quiet fire.