Ellie Rines Gallery (formerly 56 Henry) presents Waterloo!, its inaugural exhibition at 46 Walker Street and Christopher K. Ho’s third solo show with the gallery. The exhibition features twenty new hand-wrought candelabra sculptures that examine the shift from the Napoleonic Wars to the Biedermeier era as a lens for the present. Drawing on T. J. Clark’s The Absolute Bourgeois, the works consider authority, censorship, and withdrawal into private life.The sculptures combine decorative-arts forms with Brutalist, Futurist, and Cubist references. Metallic armatures, counterweights, and embedded everyday objects (golf balls, plumb bobs, light bulbs) create a tension between utility and assemblage. Arranged in triangular groupings, they turn the gallery into a candlelit setting reminiscent of a Schubertiade. White pedestals wrapped in Biedermeier motifs stand on a custom rug reproducing Delacroix’s Liberty Leading the People and Vernet’s 1848 barricade scene.Titles come from Schubert’s Die schöne Müllerin. The installation juxtaposes domestic objects with revolutionary imagery to ask how private space and public upheaval intersect today. Ho (b. 1974, Hong Kong) lives and works in New York and Hong Kong.

Christopher K. Ho: Waterloo! Ellie Rines Gallery, New York. September 9, 2026.

Exhibition text:

Ellie Rines Gallery fka 56 Henry is proud to announce its inaugural exhibition, Waterloo!, a presentation of twenty new sculptures by Christopher K. Ho at 46 Walker Street. Marking Ho’s third solo show with the gallery, Waterloo! investigates the pivot from the Napoleonic Wars to the insular, middle-class Biedermeier era to formulate a theory of our contemporary moment. Grounded in a reading of art historian T. J. Clark’s The Absolute Bourgeois, the exhibition mines the aesthetics and mythologies of historical revolution to conjure how structures of authority, censorship, and domestic retreat operate today.

The twenty candelabras are complex, hand-wrought armatures that exist in perpetual tension between delicate utility and raw sculptural assemblage. They are fundamentally historical and fatalistic: they read like relics of a collapsed social order and stand as monuments to a private sphere under siege. Yet, despite their heavy, armor-like presence, they maintain a sense of cosmic balance and musical rhythm. Sweeping metallic lines pulsate like vibrating strings, while counterweights, spheres, and planes hang in gravitational equilibrium. Each candelabra dances to its own internal logic.

Stylistically, the sculptures move fluidly across art history, blending decorative arts and high Modernism. The weight of Brutalism emerges in raw, dark metal forms and concrete-like bases; the angular momentum of Futurism cuts through space in sweeping steel arcs; and the fractured, multi-perspective planes of Cubism reconfigure traditional candlestick holders into geometric puzzles. Like Ho’s prior work, the objects are indebted to architectural meticulousness and planning. One could understand these candelabras as maquettes for monuments or larger sculptures that reimagine private place as public space.

At the center of Waterloo! lies a utopian impulse to palimpsest history and contemporary life. As theorist Fredric Jameson elaborates in Archaeologies of the Future, utopian artistic practices are neither trivial “visions of happy worlds” nor the work of “maniacs and oddballs.” Rather, they are born out of a specific “social situation which must admit of such a solution.” Ho activates this theory by turning to the nineteenth century, not out of escapist nostalgia, but because, as historian Ernst Bloch writes, “the utopian consciousness wants to look far into the distance, but ultimately only in order to penetrate the darkness so near….”

To penetrate our own immediate darkness, Ho transforms the gallery into a candlelit soirée evoking the covert aura and secrecy of a nineteenth-century Schubertiade. In this charged atmosphere, old structures of deference and bourgeois comfort melt under flame or ossify into static emblems. Arranged across the room in triangular configurations in both plan and elevation, Ho’s candelabras–quintessential bourgeois objects designed for an intimate, five-foot radius of light–act as a physical barricade, collapsing the domestic sphere and a revolutionary public sphere. Ho embeds ordinary items—golf balls, plumb bobs, marshmallows, light bulbs—into his sculptures, a reminder that Biedermeier chairs were not only furnishings for interiors but also tools for resistance in the streets. Through this aggregation, the mundane object ceases to be merely passive; it takes on a strategic, resistant weight.

Stark white pedestals wrapped in schematic facsimiles of Biedermeier furniture reduce historical status symbols such as marquetry, saber legs, and alabaster tops to ghostly shells. Underneath these pedestals lies a custom-woven rug depicting Eugène Delacroix’s Liberty Leading the People and Horace Vernet’s Barricade on the Rue Soufflot, Paris, 25 June 1848. Grounding the sculptures on these images invokes the barricade, which Clark notes acted as both a real stage and a mythological symbol for the revolutionary bourgeois. The candelabras separate the viewer from the gallery’s administrative offices behind. Arrayed in front is a streetscape filled with detritus: the same objects rendered in metal to form the sculptural assemblages. With this procession, Ho compels us to analyze the hierarchies at play in the artworld, a structure that mimics the vertical order of the centerpiece. The by-now stale image of Delacroix’s Liberty sits below the stolidness of Biedermeier chastity, which gives way to Ho’s candelabras: disruptive and modern emblems of a bygone era. A revolution from above and below.

The sculptures’ titles are taken from Franz Schubert’s 1823 song cycle Die schöne Müllerin. By pairing these raw, domestic candelabras with Schubert’s romantic tragedy of interiority and longing from the Biedermeier period, Ho proposes a political art built on old resentments and secret organization, asking what happens when the domestic sphere can no longer contain the revolutionary pressure of history. In the labyrinthine framework of Ho’s conceptual installation, melodrama, myth, the prosaic, and revolutionary aesthetics conjure a mysterious answer to the question Ho constantly asks in his practice: what art today can picture our contemporary moment?

Christopher K. Ho (born 1974 Hong Kong) lives and works between New York and Hong Kong. He received his BFA and BS from Cornell University and his MPhil from Columbia University. He has had recent solo shows at the Bronx Museum, Vancouver Art Gallery, Art Basel Hong Kong Encounters, and the Brooklyn Academy of Music; and been featured in group exhibitions at Storm King Art Center, Asia Society Hong Kong, Wave Hill, Bard CCS Hessel Museum, the Queens Museum, RISD Museum, Cranbrook Art Museum, Para Site, UCCA Beijing, the Incheon Biennial, the Busan Biennale, MASSMoCA, the Guangdong Times Museum, and Socrates Sculpture Park, among other venues. He is in the permanent collections of Leslie Lohman Museum, Asia Society Texas, and the Memorial Art Gallery, University of Rochester.

Camille Henrot’s first public exhibition in New York City places a group of dog sculptures at an entrance to Central Park. Expanding an existing series, the installation includes new outdoor works in bronze, stone, steel, and concrete. Each piece assembles visual references ranging from Saul Steinberg drawings and Tex Avery cartoons to ancient Egyptian sculpture and dog-show competitions.

Across painting, drawing, film, installation, and sculpture, Henrot examines the codes and bonds that shape individual and social life. Her interest in attachment, dependency, and domestication leads her to dogs as highly social animals and loyal companions. The project also celebrates sculptural craft and New York as a site of insistent individual expression. It is curated by Public Art Fund Senior Curator Melanie Kress.

Born in France in 1978, Henrot is widely regarded as an influential contemporary artist. She received the Silver Lion at the 2013 Venice Biennale for Grosse Fatigue and later the Nam June Paik and Edvard Munch awards. Her work is held by institutions including MoMA, the Guggenheim, and Centre Pompidou. In 2026 she premieres a new film, solo and survey exhibitions, and her first theatrical production.

Camille Henrot: Dogs. Public Art Fund. Doris C. Freedman Plaza, Central Park, New York City, Sept. 12, 2026.

For her first public exhibition in New York City, Camille Henrot brings a group of sculptures of dogs to the entrance of Central Park. Building on an existing series, Henrot’s installation includes new sculptures in a variety of materials suited to the outdoors, including bronze, stone, steel, and concrete. Each work is born out of an accumulation of visual references, including Saul Steinberg drawings, Tex Avery cartoons, ancient Egyptian sculpture, dog show competitions, and more.

Across a virtuosic artistic practice that spans painting, drawing, film, installation, and sculpture, Henrot explores the invisible codes and ties that bind our lives as both individuals and members of society. Henrot’s interest in the nature of attachment, dependency and domestication has drawn her to the subject of dogs, a highly social animal and loyal human companion. At the same time, the exhibition stands as a celebration of sculptural craft and style, reflecting Paris-born Henrot’s love for New York City as a place of insistent individual expression.

Camille Henrot: Dogs is curated by Public Art Fund Senior Curator Melanie Kress.

Camille Henrot (born 1978, France) is recognized as one of the most influential voices in contemporary art today. Over the past twenty years, she has developed a critically acclaimed practice, encompassing drawing, painting, sculpture, installation and film. Inspired by literature, second-hand marketplaces, poetry, cartoons, social media, self-help, and the banality of everyday life, Henrot’s works capture the complexity of living as both private individuals and global citizens in an increasingly connected and over-stimulated world.

In 2013, Henrot received widespread critical acclaim for her film “Grosse Fatigue”, made during a fellowship at the Smithsonian Institution and awarded the Silver Lion at the 55th Venice Biennale in 2013.

Henrot is the recipient of the 2014 Nam June Paik Award and the 2015 Edvard Munch Award, and has participated in the Lyon, Berlin, Sydney and Liverpool Biennials, among others. Henrot has had numerous solo exhibitions worldwide, including the New Museum, New York; Schinkel Pavilion, Berlin; Art Sonje Center, Seoul; Fondazione Memmo, Rome; and Tokyo Opera City Art Gallery, Japan, among others. Her work is held in the collections of the Museum of Modern Art in New York City, the Guggenheim, the Centre Pompidou, and the National Gallery of Victoria, among others.

In 2026, Henrot premieres her new film In The Veins at the New Museum, New York and LUMA, Arles. She also presents a solo exhibition at The Perimeter in London, and a major performative survey exhibition at Copenhagen Contemporary. Henrot’s first theatrical production Commedia dell’Arte will premiere at the Aspen Art Museum’s AIR Festival, a co-commission between Performa, Aspen Art Museum / Wheeler Opera House and LYRA Art Foundation.

This video takes you to the opening of Valerio Adami’s exhibition in the new spaces of David Nolan Gallery in New York. David Nolan Gallery presents Alice in the Land of Violence, an exhibition of Valerio Adami’s drawings and paintings from 1962–1966, made before his later hard-edged graphic style. The works mix fantasy and reality while engaging postwar fashion, cars, and commercial culture. The title is taken from one of the pieces on view.

Born in Bologna in 1935 to musician parents, Adami moved to Paris in 1955 and formed close ties with Roberto Matta, Wifredo Lam, and writers including Octavio Paz, Italo Calvino, and Jacques Derrida. A 1962 London trip brought contact with Francis Bacon, Richard Hamilton, and others. He later worked at Villa Cantoni on Lake Maggiore, a gathering place for artists and intellectuals.

His 1960s paintings use flat fields of color bound by black outlines, evoking cloisonnism and sometimes compared to Pop Art—a label he rejected in favor of Narrative Figuration grounded in literature and psychoanalysis. Recurring themes include hotel rooms as spaces of isolation and automobiles as emblems of freedom and fragmented identity. Drawing remained central: “Line is a manifestation of thought.” Adami, previously shown at the Venice Biennale and Documenta III, returns to New York after nearly 25 years.

Valerio Adami: Alice in the Land of Violence / David Nolan Gallery, New York. September 9, 2026.

Exhibition text:

David Nolan Gallery is delighted to present Alice in the Land of Violence, an exhibition of drawings and paintings by Valerio Adami from the 1960s, a period of great international success for the artist, whose work was highlighted at the Venice Biennale, and at Documenta III. Adami returns to New York City after nearly twenty-five years, and we are honored to present his work. The exhibition brings together a body of work created between 1962-1966, before Adami arrived at his signature graphic, hard-edged style. Raw and exuberant, these works move between fantasy and reality, embracing the postwar era’s high fashion, automobiles, and commercial culture. The exhibition takes its title from one of the works on view.

Adami was born in Bologna in 1935, a city that gave rise to the Western world’s oldest university and to a legendary culinary tradition, and that also helped birth Italian cinema and industry alike – but a city also scarred by extensive Allied bombing during the war, and by eruptions of Fascist violence against student-led movements during the Years of Lead. The artist’s parents were musicians, and he grew up surrounded by music alongside his brother, a filmmaker who worked with Fellini and remained a lifelong collaborator. Some of Adami’s most playful works integrate this tension of beauty and upheaval.

In 1955, Adami moved to Paris, entering a milieu that would shape him indelibly: close friendships with Roberto Matta and Wifredo Lam, and a wider circle of serious writers and thinkers that included Octavio Paz, Italo Calvino, and Jacques Derrida. Matta’s deconstruction of conventional form spurred something already forming in Adami’s own mind, and like Matta, Adami turned to surrealism and imagined landscapes as a way of working. A 1962 trip to London brought him into direct contact with Graham Sutherland, Jim Dine, Francis Bacon, and William Scott, and into close conversation with Richard Hamilton. With Hamilton, Adami shared an interest in the intersection between culture and technology, and a collage-like approach to layering images. That same London trip introduced sound into Adami’s work for the first time, as onomatopoeia borrowed from comics and the music of Bruno Maderna and Luciano Berio also began entering his work.

Around this time, Adami and his wife, the artist Camilla Cantoni, settled at Villa Cantoni on Lake Maggiore, which became a gathering place for Derrida, Édouard Glissant, Carlos Fuentes, among other artists and intellectuals, where Adami set up the atelier central to this body of work. There is a stillness in his paintings which position the viewer as a kind of voyeur, watching a scene unfold, an atmosphere that shared something with the cultural unease Alberto Moravia was writing about at the same time. The intellectual curiosity and rigor he has always brought to his work, and his insistence on freedom of ideas, make him stand out in postwar Europe and remain relevant today.

Adami’s style of the 1960s connects to American Abstract Expressionism and to French cloisonnisme seen in Gauguin’s masterpieces — named after cloisonné, the metalworking technique which uses delicate wire to partition colored enamel — evoking the density and structure of Gothic stained glass. Flat fields of saturated color, bound by precise black outline, fragment bodies and objects and reassemble them into images that feel figurative and abstract at the same time. The resemblance to Pop Art’s thick lines and unshaded color — the vocabulary Roy Lichtenstein and, later, Peter Saul each drew from comic books in their own ways — has led some to place Adami within that movement. He rejected the comparison outright. “I always vigorously refused the appellation of pop,” he told Carlos Franqui, a Cuban poet, journalist, prominent revolutionary, and a friend of Adami’s, insisting instead on a practice rooted in literature, psychoanalysis, and philosophical inquiry — what is now known as “Narrative Figuration.” Poetry and balance are ever-present in his works. The directness and simplicity of his paintings give the viewer unobstructed access to sensation, and open as many interpretations as there are viewers.

Coming of age in postwar Italy also sharpened Adami’s suspicion of power and his conviction that freedom of thought was essential to art, a conviction that found its fullest expression in his major work Intolerance. This visual language was built on early training in Felice Carena’s atelier, a formative encounter with Oskar Kokoschka in Venice, and formal study under Achille Funi at Milan’s Accademia di Brera. Blam (1962), subdued and near-abstract, marks this early period; and in Auto-Lavaggio (1967), we see how the blues and purples of his mature palette fully arrive.

The hotel room recurs throughout Adami’s work as a site of psychological tension — a studio of convenience for a nomadic artist, but also a space thick with memory and isolation, assembled poetically. “For years, I painted in hotel rooms,” he recalled. “I needed the anonymity of a place of passage to reinvent the possibility of a studio.” His interiors hold anonymous, fragmented figures, their stories energized by a second presence or a suggestive title — a rawness typical of his 1960s style, in which disparate cultural artifacts are thrown together. Adami’s interest in psychoanalysis, and in how mechanical objects shape desire, extended to these rooms as spaces of isolation and detachment. In the mid-1960s Adami made his first trip to New York, staying at the Chelsea Hotel and befriending Allen Ginsberg and Saul Steinberg; it was the city’s underground scene — its writers, poets, and musicians, and not its Pop scene — that drew him in.

Cars run as a parallel theme through the decade. An avid enthusiast who enrolled in Pietro Taruffi’s high-speed driving school in 1963, Adami included automobile imagery into his paintings and drawings, often naming works to evoke the sound of an engine. The car became a symbol of freedom and detachment, of fragmented identity and mechanical sexuality.

Drawing has remained central to Adami’s practice throughout, whether in his exquisite, sophisticated graphite works on paper or in the way line structures his paintings — a strong compositional element that carves the picture plane into fields of positive and negative space. His drawings unfold like a stream of consciousness, memories flowing across the sheet with something of James Joyce’s collage-like sense of accumulation. As Adami has put it: “Line is a manifestation of thought.”

In the decades since, Adami has extended this sensibility into murals and large-scale public works made for community rather than gallery or museum, realized all over the world from Paris to Tokyo. His high-low sensibility and surrealist inheritance can be seen today in artists from William Copley to Carroll Dunham, KAWS, Dana Schutz, Philip Guston and Peter Saul.

Dominic Michel’s artwork “Play on, and play it again, 2026” has been featured in the Swiss Art Awards 2026 exhibition that run concurrently to Art Basel 2026. Dominic Michel (born in 1987 in Klingnau, Switzerland), works in Zurich. Play on, and play it again presents silent captures of the Times Square Ball Drop from ABC broadcasts over the past fifty years, since the New Year’s countdown became a recurring television ritual transmitted into the living room. The archived media event was selectively recorded from a screen in analogue form, focusing on moments around midnight, then re-digitized for presentation. Shuttering panels and HD-Video on screens, no sound, 147’33”.

Dominic Michel: Play on, and play it again, 2026 / Swiss Art Awards 2026. Basel (Switzerland), June 17, 2026.

Les Innombrables: Pinocchio, 2026 / North Beach, San Francisco / found kinetic facade sculpture. San Francisco, June 11, 2026.

Official description:

In the sun-drenched palimpsest of North Beach, San Francisco — where layered histories of bohemian revolt, Italianate vernacular, and late-capitalist real-estate speculation collide — Les Innombrables have located Pinocchio, 2026, a found kinetic facade sculpture that performs its own sly act of architectural ventriloquism. Draped across the ornate bay-windowed elevation of a classic Victorian pile, an immense cobalt-blue tarp, anchored by an improbably erect orange industrial sleeve, protrudes like a prodigious proboscis from the building’s polite facade. The work is less intervention than revelation: the collective has seized an ordinary moment of urban maintenance or repair and elevated it into a site-specific parable of falsehood, extension, and exposure.

The title is not incidental. Like Collodi’s wooden marionette whose nose lengthens with every lie, this kinetic appendage — swaying gently in the Pacific breeze — embodies the tension between concealment and involuntary disclosure. The blue tarp, that ubiquitous emblem of provisionality in gentrifying neighborhoods, becomes both veil and veil-lifter: it obscures the domestic interior while simultaneously drawing attention to the very act of obscuring. The orange tube, rigid yet contextually absurd, functions as a sculptural nez qui s’allonge, a material synecdoche for the fibs cities tell themselves — about permanence, about heritage, about who belongs on these steeply inclined streets. In North Beach, where Beat-era authenticity has long been commodified into boutique espresso and Airbnb aesthetics, Les Innombrables expose the architectural body in a state of embarrassed erection, its “growth” both phallic and farcical.

Formally, the piece dialogues with a lineage of urban readymades — from Gordon Matta-Clark’s building cuts to the wrapped monuments of Christo and Jeanne-Claude — yet refuses their heroic scale in favor of a more intimate, almost domestic mischief. The kinetic dimension is essential: the tarp ripples and billows, the sleeve trembles, turning the facade into a living organism that inhales and exhales the city’s contradictions. Passersby on Columbus Avenue become unwitting participants in a slow theater of the absurd; tourists photograph what they assume is mere construction, while locals recognize the collective’s signature economy of means — zero fabrication, total conceptual precision.

Pinocchio thus operates as institutional and urban critique in one elongated gesture. It mocks the sanitized facades of heritage preservation even as it mimics the very scaffolding of renewal. In an era when cities increasingly wear blue tarps like ill-fitting suits—covering up displacement, seismic retrofitting, or speculative vacancy—the work insists on the Pinocchio principle: the longer the lie (of stability, of progress, of authenticity), the more grotesquely the nose extends. Les Innombrables, ever the masters of the objet trouvé as social diagnosis, have here produced a sculpture that grows in meaning with every glance, its kinetic life a reminder that truth in the built environment is always, already, stretching.

One departs North Beach with the uncanny sense that the building itself has confessed. In their hands, the ordinary maintenance shroud becomes a monumental wink — funny, melancholic, and devastatingly accurate — toward the fictions that hold our cities together, and the visible protrusions that give those fictions away.