The Woodmere Annual: 82nd Juried Exhibtion

TheWoodmereAnnual

82ND JURIED EXHIBITION

extends sincere thanks and appreciation to

Woodmere

Harriet and Larry Weiss, Jeanne Ruddy and Victor Keen, Dan Gordon, and an anonymous donor for their support of the exhibition and digital catalogue.

TheWoodmereAnnual

82ND JURIED EXHIBITION

CONTENTS

Foreword by William R. Valerio 2

A Conversation with Joanne Grüne-Yanoff 4

Works in the Exhibition 26

WoodmereArtMuseum June 8–September 1, 2024

Joanne Grüne-Yanoff has built a creative practice that integrates her studio work with broad community dialogues around the interpretation of what it means to “belong.” This became an exciting idea for us at Woodmere, on learning of her recent project Community Is a Safety Net Is a Trampoline (2023) with the public library in Newark, New Jersey, and we invited her to be the juror of this year’s Woodmere Annual, our 82nd juried exhibition of contemporary art.

An essential component of Grüne-Yanoff’s work is her engagement with the varied responses to questions like “How do you define the word of home?” and “What elements constitute your grounding or lack of grounding in the place where you find yourself?” These questions became the basis for Grüne-Yanoff’s call to artists for the Annual and the responses from hundreds of the region’s artists across a spectrum of mediums and working methods. Some works selected for the show demonstrate patterns of thinking, particularly that the idea of home is tied to people, family, and friends and to specific conventions of regional architecture. But what that means and looks like is individualized, circumstantial, and quirky. As expressed in the conversation with the artist that appears in this catalogue, at a moment when migration and massscale movement of peoples is a primary issue of politics, social identity, and even survival for many, there could not be an exhibition that explores a more pressing constellation of thoughts.

We are also thrilled to have Grüne-Yanoff’s largescale tapestry of words and responses installed in our Kuch and Del Bueno galleries. Like a dramatic

umbrella floating above the show, it addresses the large curving shape of our gallery in a way that no other artist has attempted, sheltering the assembled voices of the artists in the exhibition. This new kind of visitor experience at Woodmere is as interesting as it is moving and beautiful. We are also grateful for Grüne-Yanoff’s integration of poetry into our galleries, introducing the various sections of the show with poems that point to such unifying themes as the search for love, relationships, comfort, and home. It also seems fitting, working with an artist of such keen literary interest, that we have the opportunity to partner with the Free Library of Philadelphia, which is hosting a concurrent installation by Grüne-Yanoff that grew out of the community workshops she ran in Philadelphia over the last year. It is wonderful to work with an artist with such a deep commitment to the arts as an agent for community building and social growth.

Woodmere is very proud that the Annual has become a high point in the yearly cycle of contemporary art in Philadelphia. We thank our supporters, Harriet and Larry Weiss and the Drumcliff Foundation, for underwriting the show. As always, Woodmere’s staff shines, and the Annual would be impossible without the dedication, creativity, and talent of Rick Ortwein, Hildy Tow, and Laura Heemer. Finally, we extend our gratitude and special thanks to Joanne Grüne-Yanoff for embracing this exhibition and we look forward to future collaborations.

WILLIAM R. VALERIO, PHD

The Patricia Van Burgh Allison Director and Chief Executive Officer

Many Voices, 2020, by Nicole Michaud (Courtesy of the artist)

A CONVERSATION WITH JOANNE GRÜNE-YANOFF

On March 27, 2024, juror Joanne Grüne-Yanoff spoke with Woodmere Deputy Director of Exhibitions Rick Ortwein, Robert L. McNeil, Jr. Curator of Education Hildy Tow, and Patricia Van Burgh Allison Director and CEO William Valerio about her selections for the Woodmere Annual: 82nd Juried Exhibition. Grüne-Yanoff invited artists to reflect on the question: what is belonging?

RICK ORTWEIN: Joanne, would you begin by telling us how you arrived at the exhibition’s organizing concept of “belonging”?

JOANNE GRÜNE-YANOFF: Well, in my practice, I examine the individual’s charged relationship with the outside world. This exploration threads through my studio work as well as workshops that I’ve been running since 2016 with marginalized populations and non-marginalized populations all around the world to help find tools to create community, home, and belonging. At some point Bill and I had a conversation around this idea when he heard about an art/workshop project I did with Rutgers University and Newark Public Library. Bill had the idea of doing a similar process with Woodmere— creating one of these workshops, but with artists in a kind of open call where we could create an exhibition that touched on questions like what is belonging, what is community?

And so that’s how we conceptualized this exhibition, hand in hand with the Free Library of Philadelphia, with whom we’re also working. Over the last year I’ve led a series of workshops throughout the city with the library and an exhibition of my work inspired by those conversations as well as the artists participating in the Woodmere call.

WILLIAM VALERIO: When I became aware of your project in Newark, New Jersey, it seemed so relevant to me in terms of a country where immigration is the dominant public conversation and a planet where entire populations, due to climate change, war, economics, and other factors, are not able to live in the places where for centuries, perhaps, their families and forebears built their homes. It just seemed like your interests and your body of work address a question that seems worth asking in the context of a city like Philadelphia, which like other major American cities, has a population that are here from all over the world and who are here making art. What was interesting to me as well—and here’s a question for you, Joanne— is that you too are a person with your feet in two places, shaped by the city of Philadelphia, but living, at least part of the time, not in Philadelphia. Are you somebody with a divided sense of place, able to consider the question of belonging in ways that the rest of us don’t?

GRÜNE-YANOFF: I think that’s absolutely true, Bill. So much of my work and my workshops stem from my own process of trying to create or re-find a sense of belonging each time I move. As you say, I have a foot in two places: my identity is deeply

rooted in this city, and my family here. Even after more than twenty years of living abroad, I’m still very much a Philadelphian. My children, who are born and raised in Stockholm, Sweden, consider themselves Philadelphians. It runs very deep.

And so I somehow had to learn how to recreate my sense of identity and belonging in a new place. That has been a very rich process, which has both influenced my thinking and made itself visible in my work. The workshops came about because at some point I felt I was developing tools that I could share. I looked around and saw people who had been forced to leave their homes, and people who were unsure of how to handle the changing populations in their backyard. I imagined that many from both of those groups were trying to figure out how to reach out and build community and belonging. So I started inviting people to my

studio to sit together and talk and make stuff. This was the beginning of my workshops, which have created as much of an expanded sense of belonging for me as it has for others.

VALERIO: I would ask you to define that a bit more for us.

GRÜNE-YANOFF: I think it’s so important to sit down with people, to communicate, to share your story and experience the privilege of listening to the stories of others. In that simple exchange, something radical happens—we connect, we get to know each other, and together we build community. My sense of belonging expands each time I sit together with people in these workshops. And the stories that are shared stay with me, accompany me in my studio, and sometimes weave through my work. For example, Community Is a Safety Net Is a Trampoline, which is part of this exhibition

Community Is a Safety Net Is a Trampoline, 2018–24, by Joanne Grüne-Yanoff (Courtesy of the artist)

at Woodmere, is inspired by workshops I led in Philadelphia, Newark, and Stockholm, with people who came from all over the world and shared their stories—322 of them. The piece will be like a canopy over our exhibition that connects to this idea of belonging, of coming together from different experiences, and cultures, and backgrounds, and creating something that has its own unity and power.

HILDY TOW: And that’s through the footprints, the pattern of footprints—are the footprints from real people?

GRÜNE-YANOFF: Yes. At the beginning of each of workshop, participants trace their footprints. Each footprint you see represents someone from Philadelphia, or Stockholm, or Newark, or from somewhere else who found themselves in one of those places, with whom I shared a workshop. Eventually I took the outlines of their feet and recreated them using old, repurposed fabrics. I liked the idea of old lace, something from many different possible histories, hand-tatted by many different imagined ancestors’ hands.

TOW: And the prints suggest a journey, this journey of people actually coming together.

GRÜNE-YANOFF: That’s right. Exactly.

ORTWEIN: And they’re walking on air. It’s like a cloud.

GRÜNE-YANOFF: And it also has this trampoline idea. So it’s meant to work on different levels—as a coming together, as a canopy to provide a certain safety, as a way to get high up into the air, and as a safety net to catch and embrace. I’m so happy that it becomes part of Woodmere.

ORTWEIN: They are nowhere and everywhere at the same time.

GRÜNE-YANOFF: Right. And they’re unique and they’re unified. they come together as one thing of its own power, and yet each individual strand, each individual footprint, stands.

VALERIO: It’s interesting. I wonder what the effect will be in the gallery. I’ve looked at these photographs and thought of it less as cloud-like, and more as planetary, or tectonic, or even map-like.

GRÜNE-YANOFF: It’s meant to be seen in all these different ways—from above or below, or through, with each vantage point creating a different impact. I like all these references you each bring up. A map, a homestead, something tectonic, planetary, blocks that come together, a cloud, something that allows air—as with all the stories that were shared that somehow are woven through and carried into the air.

VALERIO: So each individual unit, and I’m going to use Hildy’s word—each footprint—is your interpretation of each individual conversation’s contribution to the larger whole.

GRÜNE-YANOFF: I would say that’s accurate. Each unit derives from an outline of a specific person’s footprint, and each individual shared a story, and I carried those stories in my head as I brought them together to create the piece. And not only with this piece, but in general, the stories are part of me, and so part of my work. A few months ago, I was leading workshops through the Free Library of Philadelphia. I sat in circles with kids and elders, new arrivals, and students, and we shared our stories. It’s amazing that wherever people come from, whether they were born and raised in a

Class Photo, January 2024, by Destiny Crockett (Courtesy of the Jiggetts Family Foundation)

neighborhood in Philadelphia, or they’ve ended up walking across the world to find safety in Philadelphia, or wherever they find themselves, people have the same responses to what is home, what is community, what is belonging. We human beings share so much even when our experiences and our backgrounds differ greatly. I saw this again with the artworks people applied with for the Annual—stories come in so many forms.

VALERIO: Would you say that people’s responses cluster around certain key ideas? That there are some people for whom belonging and home means this, whereas for others it means that?

GRÜNE-YANOFF: For sure. There were so many overlapping responses. Clusters, as you say, of artists who referred to family, or friendship, or place, or nature and earth, or games and sports, or memory.

TOW: When visitors read what call to artists, they’re going to ask how you define “charged” in your phrase “charged relationship with the outside world”—can you talk about what that means?

GRÜNE-YANOFF: I think we easily say such things—our relationship with the outside world— but to me, that’s a very charged relationship, meaning sit’s filled with ideas and it’s filled also with questions. I tend to be extremely reflective. So as I walk through my day, there’s a constant stream of questions: What is life? Why am I here? What is it that I’m doing? Why am I doing that? For me, those questions have a little electricity to them; they’re not just easy and floating through, but they require stopping, assessing, and reassessing. This pertains to how I define—and redefine—who I am in ever-changing contexts, how I relate to the outside world, and how that relationship manifests in my

Whole Cloth Blue, 2020, by Jessica Eldredge (Courtesy of the artist)

work. I think that those are challenging and exciting questions that have a charge to them.

VALERIO: So I take it from your answer, Joanne, that “charged” in this sense means meaningful, emotional, but ongoing. It is not closed. There is an energy, and there is sort of an ongoing investment of intellectual engagement with a sense of identity and the question: who am I in relationship to the world? And that is something that’s always changing for a human being. “Charged” means that there is this spark of energy in this issue that is never—it’s never still. It’s always moving in a person’s mind.

GRÜNE-YANOFF: That’s exactly right. And how I explore this charged relationship in my practice is through this character that I’ve developed, Cassandra. Cassandra is a grounded being who looks up at the sky and thinks about flight, and flight here is not because Cassandra wants to actually fly, or become a bird. Flight here is about the reach. It’s about the moment of anticipation, of longing, of possibility. Usually, once we grasp that thing we’re reaching toward, we quickly move on to the next. But, that moment before, the one that contains the idea, the possibility, the longing, that is an extraordinary moment, breathtaking and potent—a vast space that I´m always trying to capture. So that’s really what my work centers on, and a lot of the workshopping also reflects the reality that people—in order to move from place to place—have to imagine another way, another life, another ideal, another reach. The thing is, that moment of imagination, which is clearly the realm of artists, and writers, and composers, and makers of all sorts, is also the realm of everybody else. So for me that’s also this charge, trying to locate and manifest this moment of imagination, and expand it.

VALERIO: Cassandra is the figure in The Odyssey who foresees the arrival of the Trojan horse and warns the inhabitants of Troy that the end is coming. In the ancient narrative, Cassandra is a figure who is ignored, right? The Trojans don’t listen to her, but she foresees the future, and it’s not a positive one—it’s one of danger.

GRÜNE-YANOFF: No, you’re absolutely right. And, of course, in addition to The Odyssey, there are so many references to Cassandra in the world. I just finished the wonderful book Cassandra by Christa Wolf, which tells the ancient story from Cassandra’s point of view. Such a fantastic book. But, right, Cassandra is someone who—it’s not that she gives advice, but she does see the future, gives voice to it, and is ignored. And in response to being ignored, she is not filled with rage or madness or hysteria about what she knows will come, but she proceeds with calm and clarity, expanding the present, claiming the truths she holds, and, with them, continuing to try and be heard in order to create change.

VALERIO: It’s so interesting. Here at Woodmere we have an important series of murals by Violet Oakley, which are all about the artist’s answer to the question, where in this world do we find wisdom? One of her answers is that we find wisdom in the ancient myths and stories that have captivated us for centuries. I was talking to a high school student recently about images in the mural that interpret Hercules’s choice between the hard, but virtuous path, and the easy path of pleasures—and it resonated!

GRÜNE-YANOFF: Exactly. Actually, I’m just rereading The Odyssey. There’s a fantastic newish translation by Emily Watson. It’s such a great read—I can hardly put it down. It’s amazing how the ancient texts continue to be so compelling, and in many

ways, applicable to today’s world. I love hearing about the discussion you had at Woodmere about those stories with kids who, of course, carry a lot of wisdom themselves. That’s something I’ve experienced when I’ve led workshops with kids: when you engage and give respect and space, they have so much to say, often with amazing insight and depth.

VALERIO: It’s a great honor, and always a growing experience, to engage with young people. But we should probably get into the show a little bit, and the selections. How will this idea of belonging play out in the gallery?

ORTWEIN: I asked Joanne if there were any pieces that could be identified as anchors for the exhibition and she selected a few we can discuss.

GRÜNE-YANOFF: Great—the whole process has been so interesting. Before I started looking at the artists, I worried a bit. I always worry before a workshop. Are people going to say anything? Are they going to share their stories? How do I get them to open up? It turns out that these worries are never necessary because people really want to share their stories. Similarly, there were so many really interesting works we were unable to include because we didn’t have enough room. It was

Illuminate the Youth, 2021, by Terrell Halsey (Courtesy of the artist)

exciting to see how the artists interpreted the idea of belonging through their work.

Terrell Halsey’s work, for example, I thought was just perfect. First of all, it seemed so Philadelphia. Looking at the images in my studio in Stockholm, this image brought me right there. And it has these different levels of belonging happening. One kid is looking at the camera, smiling—they both have these wonderful broad, open smiles. There’s all this joy. There’s a sense of belonging to each other. Some connection between them. Something about learning and teaching. Something about joy and playing, also this feeling of communication with us, and with each other, and with the sport; it shows so many different ways of belonging. I think this is the only artist that I chose two pieces from, this one and the chess piece, but I just couldn’t resist them. I thought that they were just terrific and beautiful.

TOW: It’s wonderful how the older figure is looking at the younger one. And there’s all this depth that comes from the fence, so your eye travels back and is attracted to the shadows in the front. One is larger, one is smaller—there’s just something so tender about it. It’s really wonderful.

VALERIO: The fence line, and that plunging perspective also brings you to a neighborhood. I think if I saw this photograph on the other side of the planet, I would know, oh, that’s Philadelphia. Is this a schoolyard?

GRÜNE-YANOFF: It’s a pool, actually. It says “No Diving.”

VALERIO: The geometry of the photograph is also wonderful. The way it connects the heads of the two children, and then the relationship between the strong lines of the fence and then the line

of the crack that the younger boy is stepping on. Can I assume that they’re brothers because they’re wearing such similar striped shirts and possibly the same brand of shoes? There’s something about their smiles and expressions that suggests to me that same DNA. It’s really a gorgeous photograph. And then as to Philadelphia, I’m a big fan of The Fresh Prince of Bel-Air, the TV show with Will Smith. And it starts with kids playing basketball in West Philly. It’s one of the great Philadelphia narratives that people all over the world know, and this brings us there.

GRÜNE-YANOFF: And I think touching on something we discussed earlier, as somebody with my feet in two different lands, I fully connected to them as Philadelphians. They very much brought me this sense of belonging. This sort of like, oh, that’s my city. I mean, it’s formally a strong piece, but also, I’m not sure exactly where it is within the city, but it’s as you say, you could be anywhere, and you would see that, and you’d think, that’s at least the East Coast, if not Philadelphia. And there’s something that brings out my own sense of belonging as I connect to that, and I think that’s really fantastic.

VALERIO: It would be interesting to ask the artist to identify the location: which public pool might this be? What were the circumstances of the photograph? Who are these children? Are they friends? Did he know them before he took this snapshot? It would be interesting to know the relationship of the photographer to the site and to the children, because it does feel so very warm with the glowing smiles.

GRÜNE-YANOFF: Right, such a moment in time. When you think about all the different ways that life may lead you, what a thing to capture a moment.

It’s something I try to get at in my workshops, especially with people who have migrated from one place to another faraway place—to reconnect with some moment that carries with it a sense of self. To locate that moment, hold it, treasure it, and then incorporate it into your current existence. And in this piece, I can almost feel that basketball. I can hear that echoey bounce against the concrete. There’s something contagious in the joy that it holds. Really wonderful.

VALERIO: Well, another important element are the two verticals in the upper right corner, some kind of poles or something, but they create almost a goal post, or this vertical shape that brings you up into the sky. As the fence brings you back, those verticals bring you up, and gives that sensation of reaching high, a place that’s kind of lofty.

GRÜNE-YANOFF: And the older kid—the basketball’s just out of his hand, up in the air, and then you go from that bit of air between the hand and the basketball, and then up to what you’re pointing out, these two poles on the right and there’s a sense of the possibility of soaring. There’s the reach that I love.

TOW: Also look at how the younger boy’s hand is on that basketball—he’s about to bounce it. His hand is too small to hold it, right? So he’s about to bounce it. So one is about to throw it, one is about to bounce it. It’s all about when you were talking about envisioning a moment in the future, is about to happen.

GRÜNE-YANOFF: Right. Bill, you asked this question about clusters—and there were quite a few pieces that contained both a sense of a grounded space within which to feel belonging, but also air, flight, possibility.

ORTWEIN: I like in this photograph the clear delineation that the fence provides as a place where you don’t belong, as much as it organizes the space. “You belong here, you don’t belong there”—it allows the space on the other side to entice you a little bit because you can see through the fence.

VALERIO: The sign says what you can’t do. You can’t dive. There are rules.

GRÜNE-YANOFF: And, regarding US history, with all of its entrenched race issues, including those around swimming pools, the piece becomes even stronger.

VALERIO: That’s a really interesting point.

In Philadelphia, there’s a dialogue about the integration or lack thereof in public swimming pools and what this has meant historically in terms of

Untitled (April 6, 1981), 1981, by Gilbert Lewis (Gift of Bill Scott in honor of Eric B. Rymshaw, RA, and James G. Fulton, Jr., 2017)

Vacant, 2023, by Nasir Young (Courtesy of the artist)

creating community or dividing communities, and how that’s changed over time. It’s so interesting. We have a painting in our collection called Hunting Park Pool by an artist named Edith Neff, and it’s about a moment in the early 1970s and integration in public pools. This brings up a question, Joanne: we ask our jurors to include something from Woodmere’s collection in the exhibition. Can you talk about the work you added?

GRÜNE-YANOFF: I can easily see a whole exhibition dedicated to choosing pieces from Woodmere’s tremendous collection and pairing them with pieces from this show. Imagine the rich dialogues that would create. The piece I ended up choosing from the permanent collection was by Gilbert Lewis, whose works are so tender. They speak of belonging and also longing. They carry something awkward and questioning and also determined. Many of them drew me in to such a degree that I felt as if they were right there with me, and long after I stopped spending time with them, they stayed in my mind. What a wonderful gift.

The process of going through the collection, like going through all the applicants, was really rich. There are so many different reasons to choose a piece. Sometimes I would look at a work from one of the artists applying to the show and I’d think, how does this apply to belonging? So I might look up their Instagram or website, trying to figure out more information to bring back to the work, and see, oh, OK, this does have something to do with belonging, or it doesn’t.

There were a few pieces in the exhibition that I chose because they dealt with belonging, in a way, as a loss—a nostalgia for something that once was, and a loss that has to be contended with once it’s gone. I thought that was an important thing to

Ghosts of Factories Past I—Unions, 2023, by Marge Miccio (Courtesy of the artist)

create space for. There was a piece by Nasir Young, a painting of a building with a “For Sale” sign on it. So simple, and it somehow manages to convey the loss of what once was probably a vibrant neighborhood and community.

I think it’s an interesting approach to the idea of belonging, to show not only how we can belong, but also how belonging can grow within systems and spaces, taking on an importance far beyond what might have been their initial intention. I think Marge Miccio’s works point out how important it is that we consider the repercussions of what we call progress, and ask us to consider making space for how belonging can be inadvertently lost, which can cause greater damage than we might foresee. These are strong works in and of themselves, and I like that they create a space that allows a different perspective on belonging.

VALERIO: So we’re looking at the same piece front and back? And what are we seeing on front and back? We see the factory—a model of the factory building, and then individuals. Are those photographs?

GRÜNE-YANOFF: That’s what she writes. And she talks about seeing abandoned factories in the US that once were centers that provided skills and livelihood and friendship, as well as a sense of loyalty between employees and employers. And now she sees these things falling apart and, whatever their communities were, who knows where they go. And so she tries to rebuild that in this little assemblage.

VALERIO: Again, it’s such an interesting piece of Philadelphia’s identity because, of course, we were once known as the workshop to the world. Anybody who knows the terrain of the city knows

neighborhoods like Kensington that are filled with factory buildings and rowhouses for the people who worked in the factories.

GRÜNE-YANOFF: Yes, and, as change occurs, we often don’t consider how important community is, how important a sense of belonging is, and how quickly that can be eroded and destroyed by letting go of some of these spaces. I think we often don’t take into account how we can hold onto that in some way. You mentioned Kensington. I did a workshop in Kensington with a lot of wonderful people, adults and kids, who are working to piece that together, trying to find or create a sense of belonging within neighborhoods that no longer have the same feeling that they once did.

We are all evolving human beings creating the worlds we live in. I think it’s great to have—within an exhibition that talks about belonging—artworks that speak about the loss of belonging and therefore raise the question of, how can we create that? How can we rebuild? How can we build differently? How can we “progress” while holding fast to values that matter?

VALERIO: There’s an artist deeply embedded in Woodmere’s collection named Jerry Pinkney who is a great illustrator. He grew up in Germantown—a Black family that came to Philadelphia through the Great Migration, and his grandfather worked in a pencil factory. And this idea of the pencil and an element of the pride that this was what was the basis of, at some point, the family’s livelihood. The pencil factory building still exists, although it’s no longer a pencil factory.

TOW: Pencil was his favorite tool, his favorite medium.

GRÜNE-YANOFF: Yes, that sense of belonging and pride and community is so important. I like to think of museums as spaces where people have enough room to be inspired to come up with new ideas to help create better worlds. Maybe these artists pointing out what we stand to lose or gain as we think about the idea of belonging will inspire the architects of tomorrow.

We’ve got quite a few artists whose sense of belonging has to do with a connection to nature. This is image by Flo Berardinucci transported me to Philadelphia, which has so many green spaces, often a little wild. I grew up in West Mount Airy, and when

I took the Chestnut Hill local into town, I would look out the window at this changing landscape, dotted with green areas. When I looked at this image, I wondered how many of those green spaces that I regularly passed held bee boxes. I liked many of her works, which were formally strong, even geometric, and had this underlying human element. In this piece I was drawn to the human-made thing, the bee boxes, and within that depiction, a reference to beekeepers, who have their own connections with each other. And then, of course, the bees who are always part of a hive, so a clear symbol of belonging. And then the connection between humans and nature. So often people are brought to

Together, 2022, from the series Without a Map, by Flo Berardinucci (Courtesy of the artist)

themselves through experiencing something out in nature. I thought that this somehow encapsulated all of that in a strong image.

VALERIO: Having grown up in New York myself, one of the things that struck me first about living in Philadelphia is that we’re a green city in a way that I don’t think New York is. You grew up in Mount Airy, Joanne, and in twenty minutes, you could be in downtown Philadelphia. These humble bee residences become this beautiful metaphor of the city and our relationship to nature. And how important that is because, of course, we know that our fates are tied to the bees.

GRÜNE-YANOFF: Yes. And this piece has this quality that you mention of being a metaphor for the city, with the way each layer in each bee box is individualized. I love taking walks, and I used to always take walks in Mount Airy, as well as downtown. And whenever I return to Philadelphia from Stockholm, and I take a walk, I’m struck by how differently the two cities are organized.

The individualism that happens here shows up so quickly, for instance how our rowhouses look. You walk by a block of rowhouses, and every house is slightly different. Everybody’s put their own imprimatur on their house. Everyone has something unique—this color, those little sculptures, the signs, and so on. In Stockholm, it’s much less individualized on that level. There is generally a relatively uniform color scheme, and similar porch or balcony choices. It’s not an interest that people have to make it too individual. And so whenever I come back to Philadelphia, I walk around, and I think, wow, look at this. Look at how people are putting their thumbprints on every little thing, and these bee boxes are a lovely bit of that. It’s almost

as if they’re rowhouses. Each one has its own color and texture and energy and bit of joy.

VALERIO: I’m glad you mentioned the color because an exercise that I was doing in my own head was, are any of those two colors the same? These are modules, and I said, OK, the greens are different. The browns are different. And then I kind of landed on these two white boxes that are sort of on the same horizontal level, and I’m like, oh, they’re the same color. Anyway, yes, it’s wonderful.

GRÜNE-YANOFF: Yes, so I think that and a few other pieces that speak to a connection with nature demonstrate another way that we find our belonging.

ORTWEIN: It has the big brother, little brother camaraderie too, like the earlier photograph, which is funny because, in both instances, you describe them as so Philadelphia.

GRÜNE-YANOFF: Oh, City of Brotherly Love, right! I also feel there’s a lot of poetry to them. My daughter and I read poetry together as I read poetry a lot with my mom. And we often land on poems that describe bees, sometimes bee boxes, in different ways. So I liked that element too.

I thought this was such a strong piece, by Mikel Elam. In my workshops, people often describe belonging as something having to do with family, friends, or sitting together at the kitchen table. And this piece holds all of those references to me, but it goes beyond that to depict belonging as part of a much greater continuum. It connects us with history and ancestry and how the past can inform our understanding of our place in the world and our sense of belonging. These individuals and their reflections look into themselves and the other.

They carry with them this sense of something ancient brought into the present and how all of that connects to belonging.

TOW: It’s interesting how—I think if I’m seeing it correctly—only one has their eyes opened. They seem ancient, but also contemporary. I’m looking at the hats for clues.

GRÜNE-YANOFF: Yes, I think that that’s part of what’s nice about this—it has the potential to be contemporary or ancient and anything in between.

TOW: Maybe it’s a connection to him. On the bottom, clearly there’s a crown on one figure, and it seem regal, even royal. Maybe part of some ritual? The face seems to be painted white, powdered or something. At the same time, they’re connecting the everyday. The everyday is as royal as the royal is every day?

GRÜNE-YANOFF: Yes, I don’t know. I mean, definitely there’s a sense of history informing the head scarves or the crowns.

VALERIO: When you talk about this piece in relation to history and art history, the work of art that it conjures for me is the great bust of Nefertiti in Berlin, which I distinctly remember seeing for the first time and being hit by its powerful presence. As much as I didn’t expect to be impressed because it is so over commodified, it hit me as royal, otherworldly, but human, too. And then again, with Nefertiti, there’s the ongoing question of her race. Was she Black? Was she white? Whose queen is she? Was she? When I look at Mikel’s four images, I also think about dialogues of skin color.

GRÜNE-YANOFF: I really like that you bring up that Nefertiti, because when you see it in Berlin,

you see it carries with it not only all of this power and majesty, but also this certain everyday humility. And it is Berlin we are talking about. The museum building retains, from the Second World War, it retains its scars. And it’s important that they kept that when redesigning it. I think about the building carrying its history when you walk through it and you see Nefertiti, that there’s this combination of enormous power on display, which is—as you say—commodified toward different ends, and then there’s also this sort of everyday humility on display as well. I think that all of that comes into this piece, that it carries both the powerful and the everyday. There’s something regal and something very everyday—this person wearing the headscarf. Is that something ancient or is that something contemporary? It could be either one. And so the piece holds something that carries with it traditions of today and yesterday, and holds the mundaneness and the marvelousness of each. I think it’s really beautiful that all that’s held by this piece.

VALERIO: Well, also knowing the artist to be a thoughtful person, “belonging” is an issue here. Do these four people belong together? Or don’t they?

GRÜNE-YANOFF: Yes, and I feel like they also somehow belong to themselves. They belong to their time. They belong to each other, and they belong to us. Somehow, they manage all of those different connections, which is really nice to see.

GRÜNE-YANOFF: We had a couple of different pieces that had to do with aging, including a video piece that addresses depression and suicide in aging populations, a sculpture that speaks to the artist’s mother’s Alzheimer’s diagnosis, as well as a few others. And I was really pleased to see works giving space to the experience of finding

My Existence, Your Existence, 2022, by Mikel Elam (Courtesy of the artist)

belonging at different moments in life, and to finding loss, and somehow creating, within that, new connections and gains.

And I thought this was a powerful and very gentle piece by Ginny Perry. Gentle both in terms of technique, and in the way this person is sitting in her wheelchair, sort of holding her own arms and looking at the group. Somehow, the humanness of these people is what comes through, even though the chairs take up so much visual space. Anyway, I very much liked this sort of gentle space created for finding human connection and meeting needs as they evolve.

VALERIO: As a society, we tend to turn away from what it means to be older and what it means eventually, if we live long enough, when our bodies don’t work anymore.

GRÜNE-YANOFF: Yes, you know, I think in all cultures it’s something that is challenging. And therefore I was happy about this piece because it showed something—it just showed some—a human gesture. We often see somebody young and beautiful peeking their head over and looking to find connection and here we see it in a different time period. And I thought—oh, that’s so nice to see that presented in a different way. It’s important to make space for belonging in all sorts of different ways, at different times in life.

VALERIO: And again, it’s a beautiful watercolor, beautiful in the sense of the mechanics of the wheelchair, the complex space, and the integration of the human figures.

TOW: Yes, I think one of the things I find so interesting about it is that the woman in the foreground is young, and connected to these

people in the background, who appear older. And it feels like it’s another moment of where she’s both— there might be this sense of belonging but not wanting to belong but feeling alike, on the other hand: a charged moment. It’s that charged relationship, are they really outside her outside world, or is she part of that world? Can she find that connection? And of course, the wheels are important too. There’s a potential to move with the wheels. She can join them. She can find the place of connection, but only if she wants to. It plays into emotions.

GRÜNE-YANOFF: I think so too, and I think for me, the specifics of her gesture are so felt, and show some timidity, and curiosity. It made me think about TS Eliot’s “Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock” and

Fellowship, 2023, by Ginny Perry (Courtesy of the artist)

these moments where Prufrock feels like an insect on a pin. Everybody puts him in a specific place that leaves him feeling stripped of his individuality, of his agency. He wonders what he might dare to do and be, as he sees that he’s sort of cornered into other people’s views of what someone that age does.

This unfolded for me with the depiction of all those wheelchairs, so that at first glance, the people in them are reduced to their physical situation. But the focus is really on the individuals, who are people looking for connection, and belonging. I thought that was really beautiful.

VALERIO: Joanne, your literary sensibility is unique among our history of jurors for the Annual, and I like that we are planning to include selected poems on the walls of the exhibition, integrating art and poetry. Also insofar we have a special connection here to the Free Library of Philadelphia, through the show, we get to ask: how do libraries and museums, as institutions of literature and visual arts, jointly serve people in today’s world, opening the mind, offering creative resources? What else do museums and libraries share?

GRÜNE-YANOFF: That’s something I’m dealing with in the project at the Free Library. In one of the works I’m creating, I’m threading quotes from workshop participants into banners. I think it’s so important, whether at a museum or a library, to try and figure out how to get people to feel that they’re part of this thing. How do you create a sense of inclusivity? And how do you engage people so they stay, and look a little longer? Or read a little more?

TOW: When we’ve had poems in exhibitions next to paintings, it becomes a special poetic-visual experience for visitors that creates a unique psychological space. They’re looking at art and

reading poems, and they may be figuring out their own thoughts. Instead of having the usual museum label that may explain the artist’s intention or talk about the subject, you go into another world. It’s very participatory—you find those connections. And all of a sudden, the poem resonates in the object, and the object resonates in the poem. It’s very valid.

GRÜNE-YANOFF: For me, and for my work, those connections are really important. And so, to try and find ways to encourage others to find those links is a really nice opportunity. People are so often intimidated by the idea of art, or literature. But artists and writers are trying to communicate to exactly those people. For me, reading a poem that touches me, or visiting a painting that I love, it expands me, and helps me make sense of the world. And when I make something, it comes alive through the audience. The audience is what completes the work of art.

VALERIO: It also gets to the conversation about the identity of museums and the identity of libraries in today’s world. And Joanne, you asked a question: what is it that makes belonging possible? In the contemporary craft of working in institutions, a foundational requirement is to create safe spaces for people. Traditionally, museums have been authoritative places that speak down. We try not to do that anymore. One of the reasons that we wanted to work with you, is for the shared spirit, ethics, and inclusivity of your approach.

GRÜNE-YANOFF: That’s also why I’m excited about working with Woodmere, and with the Free Library, because both institutions are trying to figure out ways to expand and build their communities. I’m excited that there are people from all over city who made works that are part of this Annual, who will feel part of Woodmere, and for people from

so many different Philadelphia neighborhoods to come to the main branch of the Free Library and read their words on the banners I made. Too often, people are scared to go into public spaces like a museum or library, wondering is that for me? Am I allowed there? It’s a challenge to get people to feel that sense of belonging, and safety, but a good one.

TOW: On the subject of how people feel safe, feeling a sense of belonging is feeling safe. And there are several works that speak to that. Terrell Halsey’s photograph of the chess players conveys

a sense of safety in trust, even though chess is a competitive game. Somebody is going to win. Somebody is going to lose. Or Veronica Cianfrano’s I’ve Got You 2, which is about the emotional connection between parents and children.

GRÜNE-YANOFF: I chose it because I feel it allows for the possibility of anyone projecting themselves into those patterns and the sense of belonging. I like the patterns in the faces, the room, and the furniture.

Untitled, 2021, by Terrell Halsey (Courtesy of the artist)

VALERIO: It’s a very beautiful image of the safety of your mother’s arms, a fundamental kind of early human necessity, building a sense of belonging in the world.

GRÜNE-YANOFF: Yes. I think that within this dialogue we could talk about the piece by Susie Suh called Baby Blanket. I thought it was super strong, and I liked her work in general. That piece speaks to safety and lack of safety, but also fear, and it looks to be made with care. It’s got all of this texture to it. You can feel the love of the parent for their child,

and then also the fear that they have for their child, knowing the world they will grow into.

And this gets to this sense of belonging, where you recognize that other people might not think you deserve to belong. And I think that that’s—again, I felt it was very important to make space for that kind of interpretation of belonging and safety and then lack of safety. And how important it is for that to be put forward in terms of how we wrestle with actually creating belonging in our world.

I’ve Got You 2, 2017–18, by Veronica Cianfrano (Courtesy of the artist)

VALERIO: It creates a beautiful dialogue with your own work, Joanne, in terms of the components that are pieced together to create this idea of a blanket as a metaphor. And it’s a young child that’s being conjured here. Those of us who are parents know the world can tough, unfair, uncaring, brutal, and violent for children—all those things we want to protect them from.

GRÜNE-YANOFF: Yes, and so plainly put forward. I really loved that. This piece was created with such deliberation, carefully put together to create a precious, beautiful thing. And then right in the middle, in black thread, a brutal, painful sentence. What powerful choices.

VALERIO: Another piece that caught my attention is David Washington’s Heartistic Expression, which is a sculpture of the human heart, that looks to be stitched together, as if broken and put back together.

GRÜNE-YANOFF: Yes, I thought it was a strong piece, direct and raw, and I liked that it has piano wire, which is a tricky material for a lot of reasons and has its own historical issues, but I thought there was something compelling, and again the connection to nature. He deliberately leaves the root-like structure as he found it, and then with that creates a human heart, bound by music. So many connections that speak to belonging in different ways.

Baby Blanket, 2019, by Susie Suh (Courtesy of the artist)

VALERIO: It all comes from the heart! We’re going to have a beautiful show. I’m excited about it— interesting, provocative.

TOW: And the theme is wonderful. One more point: I think everybody still has a sense of emerging from the nightmare of COVID-19. And several artists actually spoke about the fact that in the isolation of COVID-19, they needed to find a place of belonging. And maybe COVID-19 made everybody more conscious of that. Otherwise, we sink into isolation and disconnection.

GRÜNE-YANOFF: Maybe we are now that much more aware of the need to find and refind belonging. For me, this whole project—this conversation between the four of us and the many connections we’ve found today, working with the Free Library over the last year and a half in workshops throughout the city of Philadelphia, and getting to learn about the practices of the many artists who applied to the Woodmere Annual—it’s been a rich process that has surely expanded my own sense of belonging.

Heartistic Expression, 2020, by David Washington (Courtesy of the artist)

WORKS IN THE EXHIBITION

ROBERT BECK

American, born 1950

Thicket, 2023

Oil on panel, 24 x 32 in.

Courtesy of Morpeth Contemporary, Hopewell, NJ

FLO BERARDINUCCI

American, born 1952

Together (from the series Without a Map), 2022

Digital photographic print on archival paper, 25 x 31 (framed)

Courtesy of the artist

MATTHEW BORGEN

American, born 1974

Two Strangers Passing in the Night, 2019

Inkjet print on archival paper, 23 x 28 in.

Courtesy of the artist

FRANK BURD

American, born 1946

Lima Street, 2015

Photograph, 11 x 14 in.

Courtesy of the artist

NICK CASSWAY

American, born 1968

Eclipse 02, 2017

Latex, phosphorescent pigment, and silver leaf on panel, 24 x 24 in.

Courtesy of the artist

Two Strangers Passing in the Night, 2019, by Matthew Borgen (Courtesy of the artist)

Victoria’s Wall, 2020, by Victoria Davis and Julia Way (Courtesy of the artists)

VERONICA CIANFRANO

American, born 1984

I’ve Got You 2, 2017–18

Acrylic, foam, and fibers on canvas, 18 x 14 in.

Courtesy of the artist

JOHN COSTANZA

American, born 1924

NYP18 What’s going on out there?, 2021

Oil on canvas, 24 x 33 in.

Courtesy of the artist

KATE CRANKSHAW

American, born 1996

Then, Now, Later, 2019

Borosilicate glass, 52 x 45 x 8 in.

Courtesy of the artist

Mysterious to Ourselves, 2018, by Katherine Fraser (Courtesy of the artist)

Coming to Power, 2023, by Meg Wolensky (Courtesy of the artist)

RTO Found Object Lamps, 2023, by Jason Varney (Courtesy of the artist)

House and Home (Who Thought They Could Take Away That Place?), 2024, by Lisa Volta (Courtesy of the artist)

DESTINY CROCKETT

American, born 1995

Class Photo, 2024

Analog collage on paper, 12 x 12 in.

Courtesy of the Jiggetts Family Foundation

VICTORIA DAVIS

American, born 1968

JULIA WAY

American, born 1975

Victoria’s Wall, 2020

Single-channel video

Courtesy of the artists

JAMES DUPREE

American, born 1950

If I Only Had Blue Eyes, 2015 Mixed media, 36 x 36 in.

Courtesy of the artist and Dupree Gallery, Lambertville

JAMES DUPREE

American, born 1950

Valley of the Gods, 2023

Mixed media on panel, 29 1/2 x 45 in.

Courtesy of the artist and Dupree Gallery, Lambertville

KATHLEEN EASTWOODRIAÑO

American, born 1983

Birthday Dinner (Orange), 2022

Oil on canvas, 15 x 17 in.

Courtesy of the artist

MIKEL ELAM

American, born 1964

My Existence,Your Existence, 2022

Mixed media on masonite, 48 x 48 in.

Courtesy of the artist

Schaar Garden Oakleaf Hydrangea Colorful Bakers Dozen, 2024, by Jody Graff (Courtesy of the artist)

Weaving, 2021, by Patricia Goodrich (Courtesy of the artist)

True Believers, 2023, by Peter Quarracino (Courtesy of the artist and Church Street Gallery, West Chester, PA)

Granddaughter and Grandparents, an American Family, 2021, by Gary Grissom (Courtesy of the artist)

Cradling, 2022, by Hanna Vogel (Courtesy of the artist) Fish Plate, 2023, by Irene Yoon (Courtesy of the artist)

Community, 2021, by Cherie Lee (Courtesy of the artist) Liu, 2022, by Gail Lloyd (Courtesy of Marcella Turk)

JESSICA ELDREDGE

American, born 1970

Whole Cloth Blue, 2020

Fiber reactive dye on paper, 18 x 24 in.

Courtesy of the artist

KATHERINE FRASER

American, born 1980

Mysterious to Ourselves, 2018

Oil on canvas, 42 x 40 in.

Courtesy of the artist

PATRICIA GOODRICH

American, born 1943

Weaving, 2021

Mixed media, 11 x 22 x 8 in.

Courtesy of the artist

JODY GRAFF

American, born 1969

Schaar Garden Oakleaf

Hydrangea Colorful Bakers Dozen, 2024

Paper base with hand-punched hydrangea leaf, 10 x 16 1/2 in.

Courtesy of the artist

GARY GRISSOM

American, born 1946

Granddaughter and Grandparents, an American Family, 2021

Oil on wood, 20 x 30 in.

Courtesy of the artist

BELINDA HAIKES

South African, born 1975

The West, 2003

Photograph, 10 x 10 in.

Courtesy of the artist

Hay Comida en la Casa (There’s Food at Home), 2022, by Henry Morales (Courtesy of the artist)

TERRELL HALSEY

American, born 1993

Illuminate the Youth, 2021

Photographic print, 11 x 17 in.

Courtesy of the artist

TERRELL HALSEY

American, born 1993

Untitled, 2021

Photographic print, 11 x 17 in.

Courtesy of the artist

MARILYN HOLSING

American, born 1946

A Rickety Arrangement, 2023

Acrylic and oil on canvas, 30 x 24 in.

Courtesy of Gross McCleaf Gallery

KINDRED ART COLLABORATIVE

American, established 2019

Red Train, 2022

Acrylic on canvas, 72 x 62 in.

Courtesy of the artists

CHERIE LEE

American, born 1968

Community, 2021

Hand-carved ostrich eggshell, 9 in. diameter

Courtesy of the artist

GAIL LLOYD

American, born 1958

Liu, 2022

Stoneware, brass, acrylic, wood, fabric, 23 x 15 x 15 in.

Courtesy of Marcella Turk

Silhouettes of You, 2023, by Rochelle Longwill (Courtesy of the artist)

Portrait of an Artist (Kensington / J), 2023, by Mat Tomezsko (Courtesy of the artist)

Then, Now, Later, 2019, by Kate Crankshaw (Courtesy of the artist)

Lonely Girl Room 717, 2022, by Constance McBride (Courtesy of the artist)

ROCHELLE LONGWILL

American, born 1966

Silhouettes of You, 2023

Mixed media photography and ink on wood, 25 x 33 in.

Courtesy of the artist

BARBARA MARTIN

American, born 1957

End of the Day, 2016

Acrylic, oil pastel and pencil on cradled plywood, 24 x 24 in.

Courtesy of the artist

CONSTANCE MCBRIDE

American, born 1959

Lonely Girl Room 717, 2022

Ceramic and wire, 20 x 12 x 8 in.

Courtesy of the artist

PAT MCLEAN-SMITH

American, born 1956

MAMA, May 6, 2023

Mixed fabric and acrylic paint, 22 x 33 in.

Courtesy of the artist

MARGE MICCIO

American, born 1957

Ghosts of Factories

Past I—Unions, 2023

Mixed media assemblage, 13 x 12 x 2 in.

Courtesy of the artist

NICOLE MICHAUD

American, born 1975

Many Voices, 2020

Graphite on paper, 36 x 28 in.

Courtesy of the artist

Living in Hope (detail), c. 1990, by Elizabeth Whatley (Courtesy of the artist)

HENRY MORALES

American, born 1993

Hay Comida en la Casa

(There’s Food at Home), 2022

Dirt, newspaper ads, acrylic, and oil on canvas, 42 x 60 in.

Courtesy of the artist

GINNY PERRY

American, born 1953

Fellowship, 2023

Ink drawn with string and twigs, wash, 20 x 26 1/2 in.

Courtesy of the artist

PETER QUARRACINO

American, born 1954

True Believers, 2023

Oil on canvas mounted on panel, 9 x 18 in.

Courtesy of the artist and Church Street Gallery, West Chester, PA

SUSAN RAGLAND

American, born 1961

At Miss Jackson’s Spot, Dryers be Hottt, 2023

Acrylic and gold leaf on canvas, 36 x 36 x 1 in.

Courtesy of David Grain

JENNIFER SCHELTER

American, born 1966

Adores Door, 2024

Watercolor, 11 x 15 1/4 in.

Courtesy of the artist

HEATHER MARIE SCHOLL

American, born 1985

Heretic, 2022

Thread, ink, and gold leaf paint on cotton fabric, 16 1/2 x 21 1/2 in.

Courtesy of the artist

SCOTT SMITH

American, born 1972

Thinking of You, January 28, 2024

MP4

Courtesy of the artist

KATHLEEN STUDEBAKER

American, born 1982

SeedCircuit [1], 2022

Yellowheart, Osage orange, padauk, bloodwood, purpleheart, cast resin, aluminum, and light, 42 x 40 x 7.5 in.

Courtesy of the artist

Valley of the Gods, 2023, by James Dupree (Courtesy of the artist and Dupree Gallery, Lambertville)

The West, 2003, by Belinda Haikes (Courtesy of the artist)

Learning to Write Again, 2023, by Peggy Washburn (Courtesy of the artist)

Red Train, 2022, by Kindred Art Collaborative (Courtesy of the artists)

Thicket, 2023, by Robert Beck (Courtesy of the artist)

SUSIE SUH

American, born 1993

Baby Blanket, 2019

Muslin and thread, 18 1/2 x 19 5/8 in.

Courtesy of the artist and Church Street Gallery, West Chester, PA

MAT TOMEZSKO

American, born 1986

Portrait of an Artist (Kensington / J), 2023

Ink and acrylic on panel, 10 x 8 in.

Courtesy of the artist

JASON VARNEY

American, born 1979

RTO Found Object Lamps, 2023

Photograph, 40 x 27 in.

Courtesy of the artist

HANNA VOGEL

American, born 1986

Cradling, 2022

Steel , paper pulp, pigment, and modeling paste, paint

Courtesy of the artist

LISA VOLTA

American, born 1976

House and Home (Who Thought They Could Take Away That Place?), 2024

Digital photograph, pigment ink on paper, 30 x 60 in.

Courtesy of the artist

PEGGY WASHBURN

American, born 1963

Learning to Write Again, 2023

Acrylic, graphite, ink, pigment, and wax on canvas, 36 x 36 in.

Courtesy of the artist

Lima Street, 2015, by Frank Burd (Courtesy of the artist)

DAVID WASHINGTON

American, born 1955

Heartistic Expression, 2020

Cherry burl, root, and piano wire,

38 x 48 x 40 in.

Courtesy of the artist

ELIZABETH WHATLEY

American, born 1940

Living in Hope, c. 1990

Mixed media montage, 36 x 24 in.

Courtesy of the artist

MEG WOLENSKY

American, born 1992

Coming to Power, 2023

Oil on canvas, 18 x 24 in.

Courtesy of the artist

IRENE YOON

American, born 1998

Fish Plate, 2023

Wood-fired ceramic, 8 x 7 x 1 1/2 in.

Courtesy of the artist

NASIR YOUNG

American, born 1995

Vacant, 2023

Oil on panel, 8 x 10 in.

Courtesy of the artist

A Rickety Arrangement, 2023, by Marilyn Holsing (Courtesy of the artist)

MAMA, May 6, 2023, by Pat McLean-Smith (Courtesy of the artist)

Birthday Dinner (Orange),2022, by Kathleen Eastwood-Riaño (Courtesy of the artist)

Eclipse 02, 2017, by Nick Cassway (Courtesy of the artist)

FROM THE JUROR

JOANNE GRÜNE-YANOFF

American, born 1966

Community Is a Safety Net is a Trampoline, 2018–24

322 footprints, fabric, PVC, steel, thread, stains, and rope

Courtesy of the artist

JOANNE GRÜNE-YANOFF

American, born 1966

Cassandra’s Jump (2), 2023

Unique lenticular, dimensions vary

Courtesy of the artist

FROM THE COLLECTION

GILBERT LEWIS

American, 1945–2023

Untitled (April 6, 1981), 1981

Gouache and graphite on cream laid paper

Woodmere Art Museum: Gift of Bill Scott in honor of Eric B. Rymshaw, RA, and James G. Fulton, Jr., 2017

SeedCircuit [1], 2022, by Kathleen Studebaker (Courtesy of the artist)

Adores Door, 2024, by Jennifer Schelter (Courtesy of the artist)

Heretic, 2022, by Heather Marie Scholl (Courtesy of the artist)

NYP18 What’s going out there?, 2021, by John Costanza (Courtesy of the artist)

Thinking of You, January 28, 2024, by Scott Smith (Courtesy of the artist)

Cassandra’s Jump (2), 2023, by Joanne Grüne-Yanoff (Courtesy of the artist)

End of the Day 2016, by Barbara Martin (Courtesy of the artist)

At Miss Jackson’s Spot, Dryers be Hottt, 2023, by Susan Ragland (Courtesy of David Grain)

If I Only Had Blue Eyes, 2015, by James Dupree (Courtesy of the artist and Dupree Gallery, Lambertville)

Woodmere Art Museum receives state arts funding support through a grant from the Pennsylvania Council on the Arts, a state agency funded by the Commonwealth of Pennsylvania.

©2024 Woodmere Art Museum. All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means without written permission of the publisher.

Catalogue designed by Barb Barnett and Kelly Edwards, and edited by Gretchen Dykstra.

Front cover: My Existence, Your Existence (detail), 2022, by Mikel Elam (Courtesy of the artist)