In Timelapse, Sarah Sze constructs a world in motion—where images, objects, and sound collide in constantly shifting relationships. The exhibition captures time as fragmented and layered, reflecting how meaning is built through accumulation and attention.

Tania Pérez Córdova’s Generalization intertwines absence and presence through objects that carry traces of time, touch, and narrative. Each sculpture suggests a story—what was once there and what remains.

Humane Ecology: Eight Positions brings together eight artists exploring the complex relationship between humans and the natural world. Through sculpture, video, installation, and living materials, the exhibition reveals how ecological systems intersect with memory, migration, and identity.

In Across the Universe, Tomashi Jackson brings together abstraction, history, and political urgency, layering color, text, and material to explore how power circulates through public space, education, and collective memory.

Dia Beacon stages the first full survey of Whitten’s landmark Greek Alphabet series—abstract, layered, rhythmic—bringing renewed attention to a pivotal body of work that navigated structure, ink, and gesture.

At Dia Bridgehampton, Leslie Hewitt’s spare compositions and sculptural works quietly blur the boundary between photography and memory—casting the everyday into poetic resonance.

Fifty-two voices, five decades, one throughline: power. This exhibition looks at where feminist art has been—and where it’s still boldly going.

Simpson invites you inside a house built from memory, myth, and her own ancestral architecture. Rooms filled with ceramics, textiles, video, and sculpture guide a journey through home, identity, and transformation.

Black Atlantic brings together five artists whose works speak to the histories, migrations, and material cultures shaped by the African diaspora. Installed along Brooklyn Bridge Park’s waterfront, the exhibition reimagines public space as a site of resilience and reclamation—where sculpture, form, and narrative move fluidly between land and sea, past and present.

Liz Larner’s Don’t Put It Back Like It Was reconsiders sculptural form through gesture, gravity, and time. Known for reimagining materials from clay to stainless steel, Larner transforms the familiar into meditations on tension and repair.

Pattern meets physics. Language meets form. Auerbach builds worlds where everything vibrates just slightly out of sync—and that’s the point.

A show that’s all about connection—threads, textures, hands. Intimate works that expand the idea of weaving into something tender and radical.

Wieser builds spaces that feel sacred and playful at once—mirrors, tiles, and gold leaf that make you part of the geometry.

Mehretu’s paintings are storms—fast, dense, and electric. You can feel the motion and the meaning all tangled together, like cities seen from memory.

Jacqueline Kiyomi Gork turns sound into sculpture you can walk through, lean against, and even feel beneath your feet. Poems of Electronic Air transforms the Carpenter Center into a playground of sonic blankets, inflatable architecture, and stone-crunching floors. Supported by Girlfriend Fund, it’s an invitation to listen with your whole body.

Jacqueline Humphries transforms the language of abstract painting into a field of encoded gestures and digital symbology. jHΩ1:) expands her exploration of light, code, and mark-making, merging painterly instinct with algorithmic rhythm.

Hard Cover brings together six artists—Rose B. Simpson, Jane Irish, Sharon Hayes, Howardena Pindell, Judith Scott, and Wilmer Wilson IV—whose work explores protection, exposure, and the narratives we hide or reveal through material. Across fiber, film, clay, and collage, each artist opens a conversation on the physical and psychological covers we build to survive.

Sze’s installations are like living constellations—bits of paper, projection, and light suspended in motion. You don’t look at them, you wander through them.

In I’m, Deborah Roberts confronts the narratives that shape Black childhood and identity through layered collage and portraiture. Her figures—composed from fragments of media, history, and imagination—stand powerful, vulnerable, and wholly human.

B. Ingrid Olson bends architecture and the body until both start to shimmer. With History Mother and Little Sister, the Carpenter Center becomes a stage for mirrored limbs, carved reliefs, and architectural riffs that press photography and sculpture into playful, feminist conversation. Supported by Girlfriend Fund, these twin exhibitions are as sly as they are structural.