Space On Space: I understand that Radical Americana is a multi-venue project, created and organized by The Clay Studio, and centers around a series of exhibitions inspired by the Semiquincentennial. How and why did the Museum for Art in Wood get involved in this project? When did organizing begin?

Jennifer-Navva Milliken: Jennifer Zwilling of the Clay Studio initially reached out (maybe it was fall 2024?) and convened several curators, directors, and staff members of leading museums, libraries, and historical institutions in Philadelphia. Because of the long history of collaboration between our organizations, we could develop a complex and far-reaching project that maximized our shared resources without requiring (nonexistent) external funding.

Through the process of matchmaking artists, research collections, and arts venues, Viola Bordon was assigned to show her work at the Museum for Art in Wood. The fluidity between her work and that of exhibiting artist BA Harrington was clear, and allowed them to create work together to be shown in Suite Américaine.

SOS: The museum presents two exhibitions for Radical Americana, including Muliebrity by Viola Bordon and Suite Américaine by BA Harrington. Both shows are rethinking American history through the lens of craft and women’s labor. How did these shows originate? What made you want to center these two artists at this historic moment?

JNM: These exhibitions exemplify what Radical Americana makes possible by inviting artists to rigorously research our shared past and reinterpret it through the language of craft to question who and what America has historically valued. We are committed to elevating material knowledge and the power of making as vehicles for civic dialogue. Viola Bordon and BA Harrington both draw on Philadelphia’s deep craft traditions while challenging inherited narratives around gender, labor, and national identity. Together, their work advances the Museum for Art in Wood’s mission to engage and inspire through contemporary art in wood that is both historically grounded and urgently relevant.

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It’s hot outside, and so is this Semiquincentennial. There seem to be endless things brewing in the City of Brotherly Love, and I can’t drink enough coffee to keep up.

This list is not omniscient; nor is any art round-up anywhere. Take my subjective perspective with a grain of salt. Speaking of salt, Jazmyn Crosby is experimenting with the material in a new solo show called Teleplasm Hotline at Big Ramp. In Philadelphia, there’s also baseball art, meditative scenes of Los Angeles, floating paper boats, not-so-sappy love, and street art at Suburban Station. Rather than claim to be all-knowing, I want to admit my utterly finite abilities to maneuver my way around every corner of this city while living in the suburbs and raising an energetic toddler. I am an art lover, not an art consumer. When I say lover, I mean I like to strip art naked and read it from head to toe. And some art takes much longer to read than others.

And as I write this, the debate rages on between the city of Philadelphia and the Trump administration regarding the slavery panels at the President’s House in Independence National Historical Park. The full truth of U.S. history is for everyone.

Below are six standout exhibitions happening in Philadelphia this June and July 2026.

1. Big Ramp presents a solo show, Teleplasm Hotline by Jazmyn Crosby, curated by Will Schwaller, on view through July 25, 2026. If you ever wondered how to communicate directly with cows and cats, this is the show for you. In addition to interspecies communication, there are two video projections documenting Crosby’s research, an electro exchange cabinet that includes salt foraged from boiling ocean water, and a DIY science experiment involving circuits made with alligator-clip leads, various containers of water, and pennies. Crosby channels charcoal from the Calf Canyon/Hermits Peak burn scar; you can hear it shrill when it’s touched. The artist generously offers guests caramel delights—but be warned—taking may summon the cats. The artist recently published a zine titled Other Networks: Interspecies Communication Operations Manual. These zines are on sale for $20 (or 2000 U.S. pennies) at the gallery. I left this exhibition feeling slightly more optimistic about the future and appreciating the laws and expansive nature of science.

2. Ducks on a Pond, a solo show by Alexandria Nazar, showing at Automat in the Crane Arts building on view now through June 27, 2026, is and is not about baseball. I’d reviewed a previous baseball show titled Shoulder to Shoulder, Skin to Skin at Information Space back in April, in which a few of Nazar’s paintings were included. As I stated in that review, I am a baseball hater, but I am a lover of Nazar’s paintings. Curated by painter Whitson Ramsey, this exhibition is timely, given Philadelphia’s MLB schedule happening right smack dab in June. The term “Ducks on a Pond” is baseball slang for runners on base, bases loaded. The phrase has potential far beyond baseball. A home run is possible, but not guaranteed. Nazar’s works teeter on the edge; bodies are in a tangle, neither hugging nor harming, yet certainly touching. And rumor has it that the phone number on the man’s jersey—the man being Nazar’s father—still works! If you’re ever in the Bay Area, looking for a place to eat, why not try Bravo Pizza!

3. Barnes’ Freedom Dreams* is on view now through August 9, 2026, and the exhibition invites viewers to immerse themselves in the memories, dreams, and histories of Black Americans. The exhibition features work by Arthur Jafa, David Hartt, Garrett Bradley, Ja’Tovia Gary, and Tourmaline. It’s co-curated by Maori Karmael Holmes, Chief Executive and Artistic Officer of BlackStar Projects, and James Claiborne, Fleischner Family Deputy Director for Community Engagement at the Barnes. Each artist’s moving image is presented in a dark room, and the glow of the wall text is both haunting and illuminating. Particularly striking was On Exactitude in Science (Watts), 2021, by Philadelphia-based artist David Hartt, which focuses on Black domestic environments in Watts, Los Angeles. I highly recommend this exhibition.

4. Presented now through July 24, 2026, A Traveler Weeps, A River Laughs at Twelve Gates Arts is an immersive, multidisciplinary storytelling experience that brings together four diasporic artists. This exhibition is part of the ArtPhilly What Now: 2026 Festival and includes work by filmmaker Shehrezad Maher, interdisciplinary artist sāgar kāmath, interdisciplinary artist Alexei Mansour, and poet Mir Masud-Elias. All connected to Philadelphia, these artists delve into identity, migration, and historical narratives in the year of America’s 250th. Though the four artists are working in different mediums and carrying different stories of lineage, they all use color to move the viewer through the gallery space. I sit for a while at the front table, gazing out at the busy 2nd Street, listening to Mansour’s intimate family archive via cassette tape where his mother recounts her day’s travels. kāmath’s American Dreams series includes gestural paintings depicting four character archetypes, all of whom are in pursuit of the Dream. Fragile, child-like paper boats float above, softly touching as the audio of The Curfew by Maher bellows.* The AC unit gently blows the boats to and from each other. Masud-Elias’ participatory desk station invites guests to investigate the question: Why are we here now?

5. Kati Gegenheimer’s solo exhibition We’ve Only Just Begun at PAFA in the Morris Gallery, on view through December 31, 2026, is one of those slow kinds of loves. It’s a not-so-sappy kind of love. Though I hardly know Kati, this exhibition feels close to me. I, too, graduated from Tyler School of Art, endured many late nights pacing the floors staring at the very specific green walls, and before that, I grew up in the suburbs of Pennsylvania. I remember listening to The Carpenters, especially around Christmas time; We’ve Only Just Begun, an ode to Karen Carpenter, gone far too soon. I saw Kati’s work opening weekend back in April and have been germinating words for my feelings. This is her first solo museum exhibition. It wasn’t until meeting Kati in person that I’d encountered such a force of nature in human form. She told me she still believes in America. There was a painful hopefulness in her voice. If Kati still believes in America, maybe I can too. Maybe it’s not a lost cause. Maybe we’ve only just begun.

   

   

6. Step Outside Show presents USA 250 (The Good, Bad, & Ugly America), a street art exhibit at Platform X, underground Suburban Station. The show features 250 pieces of art from the Philly street art and graffiti scene, where 100% of sales go back to the artists. It’s organized by street art leaders like Doomed Future and Robb Quattro (RoboQ4), among others, with partners including Tattooed Mom. While I haven’t seen this exhibition in person yet (I plan to!), it reminds me of the 99Cent pop-up exhibition, a collaboration between The Hole and Jeffrey Deitch, that showcased legendary street artist Barry McGee’s work from his personal collection, as well as pieces from over a hundred friends. At 99Cent, artists filled the aisles of the former convenience store; here, that energy spills out into Philadelphia’s Suburban Station. 99Cent was facilitated by large galleries (The Hole recently coming under fire for late payments to its artists), where Step Outside is funded through a non-profit called United Street Art. When I see images of the Step Outside show, I think about how Keith Haring got his start making chalk drawings on empty ad panels in NYC subways. Earlier this year, I did an Art File on EL TORO, a beloved Philly sticker artist known for his horned character. In March, he passed suddenly at the age of 43 (WHYY’s Billy Penn created a beautiful tribute to his life). I see his work honored in the photo above. In the words of the great Keith Haring—who also died far too young—“Art is for everybody.”

*If anyone is interested in writing about Freedom Dreams, please reach out. I’m looking for writers to cover it. <3

Editor’s Note: Thoughts on the word “bellows.”

After the piece was published, I spoke with Twelve Gates Arts about my use of the word “bellows,” for which my intention was positive in describing the audio of The Curfew as strong and anchoring for the show. While one might interpret bellows to mean too loud, my intention with the word was to describe the sound from the film as bathing the entire exhibition or drenching/filling the space with important acoustic texture.

A note on how Space On Space is currently funded:

This Substack is funded by reader support. Writing reviews, interviewing artists, and covering Philadelphia’s art ecosystem takes a lot of time. If the writing here has been useful to you, a paid subscription is the most direct way to support and go deeper. I provide exclusive essays, interviews, and PR advice for artists under the paid tier.

Emily Logan is a nomadic art writer and publicist. Since 2020, she’s been building Space On Space. Previously, she worked as a publicist at ArtCenter College of Design in Pasadena, CA. She holds a BFA in Sculpture from Tyler School of Art and an MS in Innovation Management and Entrepreneurship from Fox School of Business, Temple University.

Space On Space is a media movement started in 2020. Originally a cathartic impulse to process the times, SOS has evolved into an investigation into the connections between land, power, and art. The outlet creates content and offers PR services to help artists, designers, and businesses take up more space in the media. At the intersection of art writing and public relations, SOS interrogates the line between myth-making and the historical archive. The publication has produced three print magazines and a mountain of digital content covering artists from around the world. The magazine hosts parties, art talks, and poetry events. In a media landscape built for speed, SOS slows down—because depth is disruptive, and attention is power.

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Elsewhere was bustling with life on Wednesday’s VIP opening. Located inside YOWIE’s boutique hotel from June 3-6, 2026, this alternative fair, founded by Blah Blah gallerist Megan Galardi, provided an antidote to the larger, increasingly tired, contemporary art mega-fair model. In the same week that Pace Gallery conducted mass layoffs of both its staff and artist roster, Elsewhere was offering an alternative. As I arrived late, many art-chic people were already clustered both inside and outside the building. This wasn’t just a Philadelphia crowd: the outsider was being invited in. Emerging alongside Post-Fair, Season, Neighbors, Arrivals, etc., Elsewhere—positioned as part of the Semiquincentennial—carried a specific curatorial, historical, and cultural flavor that amplified the viewing experience.

I squeeze my way through the busy lobby of Forin Cafe, spotting artists I’ve been following online like Nazeer Sabree and Zeinab Diomande. There was friction between smooshing the body through crowds of people and seeing the work. Elsewhere is a more intimate, navigable format compared to the larger venue of Felix Art Fair located at the Hollywood Roosevelt Hotel in Los Angeles. Where Felix’s overcrowdedness felt overwhelming, Elsewhere’s hallway presentations in particular felt guiding and illuminating, even when full of people.

The hallway, as an architectural necessity, metamorphosed into a curatorial space, or a portal to an acquisition—sometimes it bottlenecked, other times it was a void.

The fair’s accessibility—being free and open to the public—and the chic design of the hotel created a warm, familial viewing experience where strangers could become friends, or strategic art connections could emerge.

“We were honored to be the venue partner for the inaugural Elsewhere Art Fair,” stated Shannon Maldonado, founder and art director of YOWIE. “Our hotel generates a lot of curiosity. We knew this partnership would be well worth it as we have attended many shows at Blah Blah Gallery and have been impressed and inspired by the roster of artists and exhibitions that Megan curates.” Maldonado mentioned that a few of her personal favorite booths were Indiana Hoover via Stowaway Gallery in Suite 202 and Point Blank and 5U Space in Suite 204A.

Dylan Riley, the director of Los Angeles-based artist-run Stowaway, shared, “Our primary takeaway was that Philly is an incredible city both for artists, art enthusiasts, and collectors. Indiana and I had so many great, earnest, and deep conversations about the work, the Philly scene, and others’ work that I don’t think could have happened at another fair.”

“Megan Galardi’s vision for Elsewhere is timely and urgently needed,” shared JLy (John Mauricio Lyons), senior foundation program specialist of the Independence Blue Cross Foundation. They continued, “As we celebrate Philadelphia in light of America’s Semiquincentennial, we also must acknowledge the more recent erosion of longtime artistic anchors regionally.”

Armando Veve was the first of three Forbes 30 Under 30 (2018) artists I saw at Elsewhere. Presented by artist-run FJORD, Veve's pencil drawings welcomed guests in the lobby as they entered by elevator or stairwell. Veve’s precise, tightly rendered illustrations measure time moving slowly. I was struck by End Times, an illustration created for The New York Times BookReview. Artist Alexandria Nazar, who managed FJORD’s booth on Friday, said it was Veve’s version of the apocalypse. I saw a cat and a few curious figures peering out of a dark hole into a complete white space.

The first floor of Elsewhere was overwhelmingly Philadelphian. Suite 101 shared space with Blah Blah Gallery, Pretty Boy, and—a friendly neighbor—New York City’s Good Naked Gallery, owned by painter Jaqueline Cedar. Playing nicely in the room were two sculptural fire-inspired lamps by Philadelphia-based designer Carl Durklow, a custom headboard and handmade quilt by Libby Rosa, and abstract oil paintings of candlesticks guiding the night by Vincent Stacquadanio, among other standout works.

Walking up the steps, I spot the work of another Forbes 30 Under 30 (2026) artist, Emmanuel Massillon: a decommissioned prison phone between two bullet-studded masks, via London-based Harlesden High Street. Jonny Tanna of the gallery shared, “I was surprised by the type of clients Megan Galardi brought to the fair, and [Massillon] even gained an institutional placement as a result of exhibiting. It was a wonderful experience with the best host, and I loved the 70’s style opening party.”

The act of meandering through hallways that would otherwise be liminal spaces became activated with a sharp, conceptual payoff. Particularly striking was the second-floor threshold where one encounters Dr. Darla Migan, the philosopher-critic-dealer in charge of DARLA, a nomadic gallery based in NYC. Here, we see a third Forbes 30 Under 30 (2025) Philadelphia-based artist, Qualeasha Wood. Wood’s confessional, jacquard tapestry with rhinestones, slow n steady was commissioned by The Studio Museum in Harlem. Six Black femme artists were included in Migan’s presentation, aptly titled FOUND HER FOUND HER.

While one might be tempted to resent occupying a hallway space for its added congestion, Migan stated this about her presentation, “to pass through FOUND HER FOUND HER, you can’t escape it. I became the passage through, making a metaphor about how reproductive labor, care work, and the structure of wealth creation in this country function.” Migan’s presentation also included tender collage works by N. Masani Landair and a haunting work called Archiving Ghosts by Mary Enoch Elizabeth Baxter.

The body turns the corner only to witness violence at the end of the hall in the form of a painting titled But First a Cigarette by Nicholas Stathopoulos, presented by Philadelphia’s 5U Space. It is here in the hallway—in the tension between DARLA and 5U Space—that the weight of the Semiquincentennial on Philadelphia’s soil becomes soberingly clear.

How do we reckon with the violence (both historic and current) committed against vulnerable bodies, on and off United States soil?

Leo Brooks, the gallerist behind 5U Space, shared, “In terms of reception, I think Nick’s subject matter was a bit polarizing, with some attendees finding it hard to move past the darkness, while others enjoyed engaging with the artist’s fantasy. Overall, I think the gestalt effect of the fair was the star, while the narrow hall we exhibited in made it hard to sit with the work. Still, we had good conversations and made exciting connections with artists and arts professionals in the city. I view it as a success.”

Immediately upon seeing Stathopoulos’ work, I thought of Francisco Goya’s Saturn Devouring His Son—an exorcism of demons.

I rise above to the third floor where The Big Ship strikes me in the hallway. It’s a quilt by self-taught artist Emma Goldstein, presented by artist and gallerist Graham Cuddy of Philadelphia’s Procession Gallery. Goldstein’s quilt is neither warm nor inviting. You can’t stand back to admire it. You’re forced to look closely at the anonymous workers powering the vessel. Invisible labor on display for those willing to look.

Gallerists and visitors had much to say about Elsewhere:

Longtime gallerist Christine Pfister of Pentimenti told me Friday morning that Elsewhere was well worth it and a big moment for Philadelphia. Local artist and writer clancy philbrick commented that he met many great folks and liked the accessible nature of the artists and galleries. Lara Cardoso, founder and director of Canadian-based Janey shared, “As our first hotel art fair, it provided a unique platform to introduce our artists to new audiences and connect with a new community of collectors, curators, and fellow exhibitors.”

“The reception to the work was beyond our expectations, with multiple pieces from all six of our artists placed mostly in Philadelphia collections, which is a testament to the strength of the arts community here,” shared Thomas Martinez Pilnik, co-owner of the Los Angeles Feia gallery. “We spoke with hundreds of visitors, museum curators from PAFA, PMA, the ICA, and the Fabric Workshop and Museum.”

I ended up buying a Matron of the Arts hat from Feia. I wore it on Saturday and several others remarked that they too had purchased Feia hats, including Dr. Matthew Kenyatta, the director of Temple Contemporary.

Leah Triplett, curator of contemporary art at PAFA (the oldest art museum in the country), shared, “I heard from many dealers and artists that sales had been strong, and I know everyone always says that, but I also heard from Philadelphia collectors who were buying.”

In its first rendition, Elsewhere had a few kinks to work out, but that’s true for anything new. One anonymous gallerist remarked that because of the casual atmosphere, some visitors thought it was ok to touch the art. And one local artist noted that they “wished to see more Philadelphia-based galleries.” I heard comments about keeping collectors on-site for as many of the fair hours as possible, and scheduling off-site VIP events during after-hours.

The fair provided numerous tours of Philadelphia’s cultural institutions and studio visits throughout the duration of the program. On Saturday, I was grateful to attend two off-site VIP Elsewhere events, including a group tour of Alex Da Corte’s studio (which I believe may have changed my life) and a hard hat tour of the construction site for the new Forman Arts Initiative (FAI) campus in West Kensington. While visiting these spaces, I learned about an organization called Less Than Half, run by Hall W. Rockefeller focused on equipping women collectors and raising the profile of female artists.

The FAI tour was led by Katie Lee, the collection and exhibitions manager at Forman Arts Initiative. While on the FAI tour, I encountered a Cassi Namoda painting. I’ve admired the Mozambican artist’s work for years online and had yet to see her work in person until being introduced to the Formans’ collection. Lee shared this about the fair, “I participated in Elsewhere both as a host committee member and through my work at FAI, an institutional partner of the fair. Those dual roles allowed me to help expand awareness of the fair, contribute to programming opportunities, and connect it with audiences across Philadelphia, New York, and Washington, DC.”

I also met an impact investor and creative-economy advocate named Margie Bacheler—she’s also a member of Less Than Half. Bacheler shared that, “As a novice art collector, I am formulating my art collecting thesis primarily to purchase art from living artists who live and work within thirty miles of Philly.” She continued, “I am passionate about promoting the arts as an economic development strategy and am excited to see new initiatives such as the Elsewhere Art Fair, Forman Arts Initiative, and the Village of Industry & Art enter into Philly’s arts ecosystem.”

Philadelphians have great pride in their city. City residents serve it with love, even if the city doesn’t always return the favor. Take the many artist-run spaces that invest countless hours and dollars into their cultural programs, often never receiving a full financial return on their investments.

As the global art world navigates current structural and financial quakes—like what we’re seeing with Pace—perhaps there’s something vital to be learned from Philadelphia’s art scene.

Not everyone operates from a heart posture of love and service, but it’s clear to me that many Philadelphia-based galleries have a mindset of hospitality, service, and even a love offering to their matrons and patrons of every gender.

And love is a sustainable path forward.

As the Philadelphia-based artist Todd Stong shared in a recent interview, “If you give of yourself, people will open up to you. And then, sooner or later, if you persist, the gift comes back.”

I hope this gift is something outsiders take with them as they leave the City of Brotherly Love to continue their business operations elsewhere.

Emily Logan is a nomadic art writer and publicist. Since 2020, she’s been building Space On Space. Previously, she worked as a publicist at ArtCenter College of Design in Pasadena, CA. She holds a BFA in Sculpture from Tyler School of Art and an MS in Innovation Management and Entrepreneurship from Fox School of Business, Temple University.

Space On Space is a media movement started in 2020. Originally a cathartic impulse to process the times, SOS has evolved into an investigation into the connections between land, power, and art. The outlet creates content and offers PR services to help artists, designers, and businesses take up more space in the media. At the intersection of art writing and public relations, SOS interrogates the line between mythmaking and the historical archive. The publication has produced three print magazines and a mountain of digital content covering artists from around the world. The magazine hosts parties, art talks, and poetry events. In a media landscape built for speed, SOS slows down—because depth is disruptive, and attention is power.

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Below are six exhibitions happening across the city in artist-run spaces, galleries, and museums.

1. Mouthful, a large group exhibition currently on view at Vox Populi, open now through June 14, 2026, is one such show that goes beyond words. Words, specifically, are its main subject. Curated by executive director Blanche Brown, the show melds current Vox members with regional and international voices. Brown conceptually frames the show around an iconic work by the late artist Theresa Hak Kyung Cha (1951–1982), Mouth to Mouth from 1975, and Janet Zweig’s Mind over Matter (1993), and puts the artists in dialogue with new and contemporary pieces. The exhibition includes work by Robert David Carey, China Rain Chung, Logan Cryer, Catia Colagioia, Jordan Deal, Lucia Garzón, Mona Gazala, Rachel Hsu, Cecilia Vicuña, Tan Lin, M Slater, Lea Devon Sorrentino, Eva Wu, and Connie Yu.

My biggest takeaway from Mouthful came from untitled, duet for an opera (2026), by Jordan Deal. This video was one of the biggest—excuse my language—mindfucks I’ve ever encountered, in the best possible way. I’d just finished an art marathon of viewing exhibitions across the city. I sat down alone to view the work and to catch my breath. Running a little over nine minutes, the video spans two walls with two green beings serenading the viewer with operatic gibberish.* The performers are singing in English, but the dialogue doesn’t connect and often overlaps. At the bottom of the video are French subtitles that do and do not line up with the English opera. It was like they were singing in tongues. It felt otherworldly. Incredibly haunted by the surprise encounter, I had to close my eyes at times and just let it wash me. I swear I’d seen the green bearded figure before: either in another artwork, a dream, or another lifetime. Perhaps they are from the future.

“untitled duet for an opera is a work that is staged for an opera, marking a duet, one singing ‘the 99 names of snow’ and the other, in a complementary contrast, ‘the 99 names for the n word with a hard r,’ said Deal. “This work is intended to take the stage as a material part of Capeforce. The performers in this work will remain anonymous, unless stated otherwise in the future.”

2. Uuughhh at Fleisher/Ollman is the Dufala Brothers’ fifth solo exhibition, open now through May 21, 2026. The first time I attempted to view Uuughhh, I got stuck in traffic for 2 hours because a car had caught fire. A grey smoke billowed in the distance as I missed all the openings I’d hoped to see. The second time I arrived, the gallery was closed in solidarity with May Day. The third time was a grand success. The work presented in Uuughhh included a solar system made from Billy’s belly button lint, an over-designed wheelbarrow too heavy to function well, and an air filtration ductwork made of the especially toxic, pre-1970s galvanized steel in the shape of gigantic human lungs, among other artworks. The Dufala Brothers use humor strategically and highlight the materials and objects utilized in the labor of working-class men. I stopped for a while to admire Stephen’s drawings, which took him at least 12 hours to create each. You can feel the labor in the surfaces of the drawings. Time well spent.

3. FJORD’s XYZ ACCESS is on view now through June 16, 2026. XYZ ACCESS is a three-person show of new art by Logan Elise Crompton, Jocelyn Tsui, and Ryan Scails that’s been in the works for over a year. It began based on FJORD’s annual open call. Sean Starowitz, the curator and co-director, stated that FJORD was interested in expanding and critiquing the artist open call in artist-run spaces.

“FJORD curated us from our open call applications. We didn’t get the open call show, but they saw through lines in each of our work relating to grids and underlying structures guiding or dictating the work,” said Crompton.

I spoke with each artist individually, and all three touched on the importance of craft traditions within their practices and the presence of the grid. I loved how, even though all three artists’ works were critiquing the effects of technology on place and the body, they used very handmade materials to do so.

Crompton rarely incorporates figures in their work, and when they do show a Black figure, it's typically covered by a protective element or material that acts as armor, like sequins. Elements of their own bodily DNA, likeness, and items like hair scarves are incorporated within their work, along with a keen interest in fiber studies. Scails utilizes found materials like tea bags, and he also often uses found fabric in his practice. He shared that his parents owned a vintage store, and he grew up rummaging through its treasures.

When speaking with Tsui, she went into detail about RISO printing techniques she utilized to replicate specific patterns and colors in the paper tapestry, Analog Glitch, and the floor installation, Paper Tiles—a reference to Kowloon Walled City in Hong Kong.

4. Blah Blah Gallery presents its first group show of all male artists in Boys Boys Boys, on view now through July 10, 2026. The exhibition brings together work by Adam Lovitz, Branche Coverdale, Charles Hickey, Kevin Sabo, Luke Forsyth, Michael Saunders, Nasir Young, Nicolo Gentile, Samuel Richardson, Scott Vander Veen, and Todd Stong. Having previously centered works by women, queer, and gender non-conforming artists, this is a bold move for the gallery, and the comment section on the Instagram announcement post proves it. I excitedly attended this opening, most eager to see Charles Hickey’s work in person for the first time, and I was delighted to report it’s even more incredible. Hickey is a Los Angeles-based artist utilizing 3D pen techniques to “paint” references to art-historical paintings, and he shows with Feia gallery.

I was most surprised by a sincere work by Nasir Young in the very back of the gallery titled Faces of London #02. A gouache on Bristol painting of a graffiti-covered church storefront that reads “New Life Bible Pentecostal Church.” With a title like Boys Boys Boys, I’d imagined only sexy renderings of muscular men in little to no clothing, but this piece is a literal come-to-Jesus moment. Don’t get me wrong, there are speckles of scantily clad men included in works like Put to Wrest (Lick) by Nicolo Gentile, which seems to use clips from a vintage muscle magazine. One particularly electrifying work was The Compromise by Todd Stong, a pencil drawing on grained glass of a skeleton with an erection. A discovery for me was Michael Saunders’ work, Doorway and rough trip. Saunders’ paintings seem to be reflections on death, dying, or even just the precarity of being alive, a relevant topic for this woman who recently experienced postpartum depression.

5. Temple Contemporary’s SPACES OF ENCOUNTER, on view now through June 27, 2026, is “a research-driven exhibition exploring cultural literacy in the built environment, the ministry of presence, and the biological impacts of space and place on American life. Conceived by public art researcher Danicia Monét Malone and guest curated by Alyse Tucker of New York University, the exhibition brings together 21 artifacts and artworks across image, audio, and data from multiple cities in conversation.”

Outside the gallery is a large, golden inflatable porch. The inflatable is pushed up against—and towers over—the bronze statue in the green hallway, and the sound of block-party music plays nearby. Upon entering the gallery, the first work is a sharp cultural reclamation placard that inverts historical segregation language, “COLORED ONLY No Whites Allowed.” This piece will land very differently depending on who is looking at it. It immediately establishes the exhibition's frame: structural inclusion and exclusion within space. Walking through, one is presented with statistics about public art access across Albuquerque, Indianapolis, and San Basilio de Palenque. The exhibition weaves Malone's research among nooks and havens—the family photo wall, for instance, where the curators invite the viewer into 'the interior worlds of Black life.’

6. Lastly, my underdog recommendation is to visit the Philadelphia Museum of Art’s current exhibition, Rising Up: Rocky and the Making of Monuments, on view now through August 2, 2026. I rolled my eyes at an exhibition about Rocky, but the show surprised me and encompasses much more than the man and the myth. Joni Sullivan wrote a review, “In Rocky’s Shadow,” and SOS has at least two more reviews in the works by other writers. I am still thinking about the exhibition, which is the biggest compliment I can give. And like I just said in my most recent essay, perhaps it’s time we trade the underdog stereotype of Philadelphia for a more accurate description of the city.

I wish you happy gallery-hopping this May and June!

*Editor’s Note: Thoughts on the word “gibberish.”

After this piece was published, I had a conversation with Jordan Deal about my use of the word “gibberish” to describe the vocal content of untitled, duet for an opera. Deal pointed out that the words being sung in the 99 names of snow and the 99 names for the n word with a hard r, both written by them, are charged and intentional, and that “gibberish” risks dismissing as meaningless what is in fact a deliberate enumerative composition.

What we worked through together: the experience of trying to receive two voices singing in parallel projected onto different walls, neither harmonizing nor resolving, was for me less like hearing nothing than like hearing glossolalia: singing in tongues. Deal embraced that framing as resonant with what the work itself is investigating: language transforming into a register of the metaphysical, the spirit, the encounter. They stated that there is still disagreement in the use of the word itself, particularly in framing what’s happening. We agreed to leave “gibberish” in the piece with this note.

A note on how Space On Space is currently funded:

This Substack is funded by my PR practice and reader support. Writing reviews, interviewing artists, and covering Philadelphia’s art ecosystem takes a lot of time. If the writing here has been useful to you, a paid subscription is the most direct way to support and go deeper. I provide exclusive essays, interviews, and PR advice for artists under the paid tier.

I provide PR and editorial work for galleries, artists, and academic institutions. If you have a project you’d like to talk through, email: emily@spaceonspace.com.

Emily Logan is a nomadic art writer and publicist. Since 2020, she’s been building Space On Space. Previously, she worked as a publicist at ArtCenter College of Design in Pasadena, CA. She holds a BFA in Sculpture from Tyler School of Art and an MS in Innovation Management and Entrepreneurship from Fox School of Business, Temple University.

Space On Space is a media movement started in 2020. Originally a cathartic impulse to process the times, SOS has evolved into an investigation into the connections between land, power, and art. The outlet creates content and offers PR services to help artists, designers, and businesses take up more space in the media. At the intersection of art writing and public relations, SOS interrogates the line between mythmaking and the historical archive. The publication has produced three print magazines and a mountain of digital content covering artists from around the world. The magazine hosts parties, art talks, and poetry events. In a media landscape built for speed, SOS slows down—because depth is disruptive, and attention is power.

spaceonspace.com

Right after 10 a.m., I wandered into Big Ramp’s solo presentation of Todd Stong, part of Anthony Elms’ TD Bank Curatorial Spotlight. It’s a corner booth—large—right near the bathrooms and refreshments, an ideal place for attracting visitors. Big Ramp is an artist-run space based in Kensington, Philadelphia. Maria Stracke, one of the Big Ramp gallerists, greeted me wearing a gorgeous blue blouse. She was seated casually at a table in front of the booth, stewarding a relaxed atmosphere. The day was just getting started, and the crowds had yet to emerge. We took a deep breath together. Stracke and Chris Hammes—the other Big Ramp gallerist—shared with me a few days later: “The overall response to Todd’s work has been amazing. We can’t say too much about sales just yet, but it’s going very well, both financially and as a learning experience. It felt like an experiment before we got here, but one that has been worth the effort.”

Todd Stong’s The Johann Joachim Winckelmann Sculpture Park could be seen from far away while seated in the lunch area. However, looking up close, its grandeur was even more apparent. It was one of the largest two-dimensional artworks at NADA this year, spanning two full walls. Hammes sprinkled some kind of special art handler magic and hung the piece on an inside corner. When spread upon a flat wall, the work hangs 21 feet long. “This booth follows a narrative I’ve been developing over the last four years,” Stong said. “The Johann Joachim Winckelmann Sculpture Park [is] dedicated to the eponymous founder of art history who textually sublimated his homosexual desires onto sculptures of Greek young men in a show of unbridled political and cultural (read: sexual) nostalgia. The rest is art history.”

At NADA, Stong’s mural-like sculpture park got a chance to breathe out in the open. Previously, it hung at Peep Projects in 2024, in a hallway-shaped space where one could only stare at it up close. Here, air gently blew through the monotype panels, as if the work were only truly activated through viewership. It’s alive with bodies, dark holes, scaffolding, and many hands. It’s said that many hands make light work. Yet, in Stong’s rendering, many hands seem to be making work that is actively undoing itself as it’s unfolding. The ice monument melts as it’s being constructed. History is told as it’s being erased.

Around the bend was another TD Bank Curatorial Spotlight: 5U Space, a nomadic gallery in Philadelphia, started by Philadelphia native, design-forward Leo Brooks. Brooks was showcasing a delicate, thoughtful presentation by Mika Obayashi, a mix of paper works and sculptures created during her papermaking residency at Dieu Donné. It was a quiet counterpoint to Big Ramp’s bold statement. Brooks shared this about his debut fair experience: “We’ve been thrilled by the enthusiastic reception our booth has received following four opening day sales. Visitors have been taken by the blend of technical skill and visual subtlety present in Mika’s handmade paper works, expressed interest in our nomadic model, and commented that the restraint of our booth provided a moment of calm in the chaos of the fair.”

I could attest to the grounding nature of 5U Space’s booth. The three-legged Ecstatic Matter and four-legged Entropy Management System sculptures in the center are intricately handmade with so many small details. These are not readymades, but highly crafted, one-of-a-kind intimacies. While Dotted Line, the two tiny paper spirals attached to fishing wire, hung in the opposite corners of the gallery, reached skyward beyond the temporary white walls. The sculptures both touch ground and sky, while the eight diagram-like paper drawings create depth, blankness, and spaciousness, like a beautiful meditation. So far, 5U Space has received a spotlight in the New York Times and Whitewall.

Blah Blah Gallery, directed by dealer Megan Galardi, was the third Philadelphia gallery on site this year at NADA. Galardi is a dealer to watch; though Blah Blah has only been around since 2023, Galardi has quickly risen to become a standout commercial gallery in Philadelphia and has participated in art fairs across the country. “I chose to plant Blah Blah in Philadelphia because I saw a way to help fill the gap between artist-run spaces and larger institutions, creating more commercial pathways for artists while still staying connected to the energy and community that makes the city’s art scene so strong,” said Galardi. “I’m interested in building a space that feels deeply rooted in Philly but also connected to broader national and international conversations.”

Galardi has recently been featured in ARTnews and Artnet for launching a boutique hotel-style art fair happening June 4-6 in Philadelphia called Elsewhere Art Fair. For NY Art Week 2026, Blah Blah was showing at NADA and Future Fair and has already received mentions in Artsy and Hyperallergic. At NADA, Galardi presented work by Philadelphia-based artist Julia Policastro and Austin-based artist Sydney Vize.

“I worked at the Fabric Workshop and Museum in high school,” said Policastro, “and was introduced to the Philly art community through that institution. The zeal and support of the community were so inspiring. I wanted to immerse myself as much as possible.” Vize shared about how she connected with Galardi, “I was included in Blah Blah’s juried exhibition, Holding Pattern, earlier this year. It was my first time exhibiting in Philadelphia. I had always admired Blah Blah’s exhibitions and curatorial vision from afar, so I’m very honored to be included.”

Historically, Philadelphia galleries have had a presence at NADA, including showings by Paradigm Gallery and Pentimenti. This year, Pentimenti was invited to showcase work at Independent Art Fair, where the gallery presented a solo debut of work by Dan Gunn. Christine Pfister, Pentimenti’s director, shared that, “visitors were excited to encounter a Philadelphia gallery at the fair, underscoring the significance of regional voices within an increasingly international art landscape. For Pentimenti, the fair offered a significant opportunity to introduce the artists we champion to a broad and discerning audience.”

Beyond the Philadelphia-based galleries, several artists with roots in Philadelphia are present at NADA. Feia, a rising Los Angeles commercial gallery, debuted at NADA this year with an artist who got their start in Philadelphia. Marianna Peragallo received her undergrad from now-shuttered UArts and presented a solo display titled POCKET PARK. Feia sold out Peragallo’s work on day one. Peragallo is a Brazilian-American artist currently based in New York. All the works in the show were made while she was early postpartum with her child and are completely made of ceramics, though some pieces are convincingly metal-looking. She displayed a fountain feature of a biomorphic plastic bag that is leaking into a drainpipe. Feia will present new work from six artists at Elsewhere next month.

When asked about her time in Philadelphia, Peragallo remarked:

Another Los Angeles gallery at NADA, Yiwei Gallery, presented paintings by Philadelphia-based artist Kay Seohyung Lee. In a recent interview with Vibes N Vistas, Lee shared extensively about her experience as an emerging artist in Philadelphia: “There is curiosity and openness towards difficult discussions, which had a huge influence on my practice and how I view the art world.” Yiwei Lu, the gallery owner, originally connected with Lee through a collector in LA who bought her piece from Spring Break NYC. Lee received her MFA from the University of Pennsylvania and has shown at Paradigm Gallery, Blah Blah, Vox Populi, and Icebox Project Space, among others. When asked about Yiwei’s programming at NADA, Yiwei shared the following:

Saskia Fleishman is another Philadelphia artist whose work arrived at NADA via an out-of-state gallery, in her case, Dallas-based Galleri Urbane. Fleishman’s presentation included several wall-mounted sunrise paintings made of acrylic and locally sourced sand on digitally printed chiffon. The chiffon is translucent, allowing for a ghostly peek through the other side. The acrylic on top of the chiffon is applied in thick dashes, like the sky is moving toward the viewer. The ceramic sculptures have a similar sunrise ombre treatment, where the surface was sprayed with an underglaze.

When asked about her practice in Philadelphia, Fleishman said:

Galardi tipped me off to a handful of other Philly threads across the fairs I hadn't caught. Jen Wink Hays, a Philadelphia-based painter and sculptor, was showing with Sears-Peyton at NADA. TZ Productions had a special project at 1-54 — Dr. Tukufu Zuberi, the founder, is a Penn professor based in the city. Carl Drukow was showing with Good Naked at Future Fair. And DUDD HAUS, a Philadelphia-based design collective, launched DUDD LITE—a collaborative presentation of more than 120 artist-designed nightlights—at the New York design firm The Future Perfect.

Philadelphia’s art scene is special because it’s supportive and relatively accessible. There are likely more artists with Philly roots at NADA I didn't catch, and certainly more throughout the rest of New York. Whether artists and galleries choose to plant their practice in Philly or elsewhere, the city remains a cultural hub for creative talent. Perhaps it’s time to trade the underdog stereotype for a more accurate description—Philadelphia has a quiet confidence. It can be brutally honest, which is more an asset than a flaw. It pushes forward incredible contemporary art talent. It doesn’t need to be New York or Los Angeles. It is distinct in and of itself. I left the Starrett-Lehigh building at the end of the day—15,000 steps later—hopped onto a southbound train at Penn Station, back to the Keystone State.

Emily Logan is a nomadic art writer and publicist. Since 2020, she’s been building Space On Space: a media movement investigating the connections between land, power, and art. Previously, she worked as a publicist at ArtCenter College of Design in Pasadena, CA. She holds a BFA in Sculpture from Tyler School of Art and an MS in Innovation Management and Entrepreneurship from Fox School of Business, Temple University.

Space On Space is a media movement started in 2020. Originally a cathartic impulse to process the times, SOS has evolved into an investigation into the connections between land, power, and art. The outlet creates content and offers PR services to help artists, designers, and businesses take up more space in the media. At the intersection of art writing and public relations, SOS interrogates the line between mythmaking and the historical archive. The publication has produced three print magazines and a mountain of digital content covering artists from around the world. The magazine hosts parties, art talks, and poetry events. In a media landscape built for speed, SOS slows down—because depth is disruptive, and attention is power.

spaceonspace.com

Gallery Hours: Fridays 2:30-7 pm, Saturdays 12-7 pm, and Sundays 11-5 pm

30 S 2nd St, Philadelphia, PA 19106

processiongallery.com

Space On Space: You yourself are an artist. Procession is an artist-run commercial gallery that opened its doors in 2024. Why now? What led you to open the gallery, and why did you decide to open one in addition to making work in your studio?

Procession Gallery: At PAFA, I was exposed to many talented people. I admired a lot of my peers’ work and was surprised by the lack of gallery opportunities to show work in the city. There are definitely some, but it didn’t feel like any were consistently offering Philly-based artists a place to show. The galleries in the city seemed to show more established artists. I thought there might be a space for a gallery that showcased a new group of artists, mostly living in the Philadelphia area.

I had floated the idea of doing something like a gallery in 2022 with the artists Henry Murphy and Tali Burry-Schnepp, who helped plan and execute the shows. The idea kind of petered out until the spring of 2024. I hadn’t shown work in a while and was getting frustrated going to the studio every day. I was still seeing so much good work around me that it seemed like the right time to take the risk.

SOS: The space at 30 S. 2nd Street is a late-19th-century storefront in Old City. What drew you to that building specifically, and how does its history shape how you program it?

PG: Looking for space was an interesting challenge. When I started, I was somewhat broad about the area; I wanted it to be somewhere south of Center City, but had no specific idea where. I initially looked at a place on Head House Square, but that fell through. That area felt right to me, and given Old City’s history of housing many of the city’s galleries, it seemed like a good fit.

A friend of mine worked at a store right next to 30 S. 2nd Street, and one day I visited him for lunch and noticed the space the gallery now occupies was empty. When I went inside for the tour, the first things that attracted me were the floors and how high the ceilings were.

When I first pictured the gallery, I imagined a smaller space with more densely packed shows. The design of the current space lends itself to a more traditional gallery-hanging approach. It feels a bit formal at times, but lends a certain official air to the works that are up. After being a part of the process and being around the work so much, I forget that someone walking in from the street feels like they are walking into a moderately formal space. All of this is good, just interesting how space does play such a big role.

SOS: Where does the name Procession come from?

PG: The name came from my friend and artist Ana Neifeld. We were talking, and she mentioned a painting of hers with the word procession in the title. I had been stressing out for a little while trying to come up with a name for the gallery, and something about the word resonated with me. It came down to Procession and one other name. I think the idea of it being a procession of artists coming in and out, showing their work, is what made me pick it in the end.

SOS: When I visited a few weeks ago, Larry Becker (who owns a gallery down the street) stopped by to talk with you briefly. Have you found camaraderie among the other galleries in Old City?

PG: Larry is great! I have spoken to him a couple of times, and he has been very generous both with his words and lending me his ladder. Other than that, I have not really interacted on a meaningful level with any other gallery in the area.

SOS: Procession Gallery was named as one of the top 10 best art galleries in Philadelphia by Modern Luxury in 2025. Congrats on getting on that list. As a publicist, I’m always curious how press is generated. Did they reach out to you? Did you reach out to them? Did they publish this without you knowing?

PG: Modern Luxury heard about us through word of mouth and reached out. They had written a piece about us when we first opened, and I was thrilled to see we made the list!

SOS: You’re a PAFA alum, and your current show includes two artists who taught there. PAFA announced in January 2024 that it was winding down its BFA and MFA programs, with the final class graduating this past spring. What was it like watching that unfold from your vantage point as both an alum and a gallerist whose program is tied to PAFA’s community?

PG: It was definitely difficult. There had been rumors about trouble for a while, but when it was finally announced, it was hard to hear. I still had friends in the program who were beginning to really hit their stride and make interesting work, so I felt bad that the rug had been pulled out from under them.

Shortly after, they announced the closure of UArts. The two together were very alarming and disheartening. It really did feel like two major sources generating artists in the city were suddenly gone, and I was and still am worried that we’ll see a smaller number of artists here in 10 to 15 years. That said, it has been reassuring to see the community I was a part of continuing to thrive. Some people have left, but it still feels like there’s a solid group. Being in the position of gallerist has made it easier to discover and befriend people outside of the PAFA community, which has been a real gift.

SOS: PAFA recently reopened its building to showcase A Nation of Artists. Have you seen the recent exhibition, and, if so, what’s your take?

PG: I have not made it over yet. I am hoping to make it over sometime next month, though. I am happy to see the historic building is back open again.

SOS: I saw that Procession will participate in Elsewhere Art Fair this June. Can you give us any sneak peeks at what to expect at the fair, or is everything still under wraps?

PG: Yes, I am excited to participate in the fair. I was happy to see several other Philadelphia-based galleries, as well as a lot of out-of-towners, which is exciting. Procession will be showing two works by Emma Goldstein, who makes quilts, and a couple of paintings by Maria Michurina. Both have shown at the gallery, and I think their work pairs together in an interesting way. Though the two mediums and sizes of works are very different, they both carry with them a certain delicacy and softness in touch.

SOS: What’s coming up next at the gallery?

PG: Up now are 17 works by Otoño Andino-Gaskins. They make these stunning monotypes, and I am really happy with how the show turned out. Otoño also handmade the frames for the works, and each is a work of art on its own. After that is a show I am finalizing the details now, but the general theme is what I think could best be called sort of magical realism. It’ll be a group show, and I am excited about all the new people in it.

PHILADELPHIA, PA — April 30, 2026

This May, the New Art Dealers Alliance (NADA) in New York will spotlight three Philadelphia galleries. The 2026 fair’s sponsored, flagship initiative, the TD Bank Curated Spotlight, is curated by Anthony Elms. Elms was formerly chief curator at ICA Philadelphia, a co-curator at the 2014 Whitney Biennial, and now Artistic Director at the Mattress Factory in Pittsburgh. He invited two Philadelphia artist-run galleries for its five slots: Big Ramp and 5U Space. Blah Blah Gallery, located in South Philadelphia, is also exhibiting at NADA.

Philadelphia’s relationship to the art world runs deeper than the city gets credit for. For example, Duchamp—whose first US retrospective since 1973 is currently at MoMA—chose the Philadelphia Museum of Art to house the majority of his collection.

The national art world is paying attention to Philadelphia. The question is whether Philadelphia’s own institutions are.

Philadelphia is the stage for America’s 250th birthday—and the city knows it. FIFA. MLB All-Star. A committed nearly $60M semiquincentennial budget. International travel media are declaring Philadelphia a must-visit destination for 2026. Associated with America250 but operating in parallel, Philadelphia250’s marketing is precise, tight, and the narrative is sealed: Ring It On.

But the full story is more complicated. On January 22, 2026, the Trump administration removed slavery exhibits from Independence National Historical Park—just blocks from Independence Hall—under an executive order called ‘Restoring Truth and Sanity to American History.’ A federal judge ordered them restored on February 19; a temporary victory in a broader national battle over whose history gets told.

Many of the city’s artists are grappling with all of this—in real time, in their studios, in galleries across the city—and are largely absent from the official conversation.

To be listed on Philadelphia250’s own community calendar this year, independent program organizers had to pay a $250 participation fee. The webpage disclosing this has since been removed. The original page remains accessible via the Internet Archive.

Philadelphia250 did not respond to a request for comment.

Philadelphia—the place where the Declaration of Independence was signed—has artists making some of the most urgent, politically necessary work of this moment. These artists are in many ways reckoning with what it means to celebrate 250 years of American democracy right now, in this city, under this government, and they cannot get a fee waiver to appear on their own city’s birthday calendar.

What Now 2026, ArtPhilly, an institutionally-led cultural festival, founded and chaired by Katherine Sachs, a Philadelphia Museum of Art Trustee and Chair of the Contemporary Art Committee, whose family endowed galleries at PMA, will take place from May 27 to July 2, 2026. Of its 30+ commissioned projects, seven are categorized as visual art. The FAQ page states that, “Unfortunately, we are not accepting new artists or works for the festival itself at this time.”

The Philadelphia Inquirer—the largest outlet in the city—no longer publishes art reviews as part of its editorial coverage. Artblog, a beloved 22-year-old nonprofit that showed up to the artist-run spaces and larger institutions alike, closed in 2025. That gap has not been filled. It has widened.

What fills it? Artists. Doing it themselves.

New artist-run publications are popping up across the city like print-only SENSUS and Teleporter Zine, a quarterly art zine published by an artist-run space called Marginal Utility/2C books. These artist-run projects facilitate some of the city’s art discourse, but do not replace the reach of major news media outlets.

Below is a snippet of what’s actually happening outside the institutional conversation.

Elsewhere Art Fair is a new international contemporary art fair launching this year, organized by Blah Blah Gallery founder Megan Galardi. It’s one of the first contemporary art fairs in Philadelphia. With 26 galleries from across the United States, one from Canada, and a few from Europe, the fair will take place June 4–6 at YOWIE, a boutique hotel in the city. Elsewhere will bring together galleries and independent curators for room-based presentations across hotel suites—prioritizing curatorial intention over spectacle. Elsewhere’s website describes Philadelphia as a major hub operating “outside the pressure of a dominant art market.”

Collective Futures, a coalition of 30+ independent and artist-run spaces across Kensington, North Chinatown, West Philly, Fishtown, and Old City, launches a six-week festival from October 2 to November 15, 2026, explicitly situating Philadelphia’s grassroots ecosystem within the national anniversary conversation.

Big Ramp, an artist-run gallery in Kensington, Philadelphia, currently presents a two-person exhibition titled Smokesignals. Open now through May 2, the show is about Philadelphia, Los Angeles, the state of Florida, everywhere facing collapse. The closing reception will take place on May 2 from 4–7 p.m. EST and will be the launch of SENSUS issue 3. Right next door, Information Space, another artist-run gallery, will also host a closing reception of its current group show Shoulder to Shoulder, Skin to Skin, an exhibition examining the contradictions of American baseball as the nation's favorite pastime and one of its most notable cultural exports. Come see it.

Emily Logan is a nomadic art writer and publicist. Since 2020, she’s been building Space On Space: a media movement investigating the connections between land, power, and art. Previously, she worked as a publicist at ArtCenter College of Design in Pasadena, CA. She holds a BFA in Sculpture from Tyler School of Art and an MS in Innovation Management and Entrepreneurship from Fox School of Business, Temple University.

spaceonspace.com

319 N 11th St, Second Floor, Philadelphia, PA 19107

Gallery Hours: Saturdays and Sundays, 2–6 p.m. or by appointment.

grizzlygrizzly.com

Space on Space: There’s such an abundance of artist-run spaces here in Philly. What do you think it is about Philadelphia that allows artist-run spaces to crop up and often flourish?

GG: We think the best way to answer this is by quoting someone we are all missing right now, a voice that spoke so clearly about artist-run spaces in Philadelphia. In 2019, for our 10th anniversary publication, In Retrospect, we invited Roberta Fallon of Artblog to write the introduction. What she observed then still holds. She wrote that for more than two decades, she had seen “over 25 collective spaces spring up,” a remarkable number for a city that “is not New York…and doesn’t want to be.” That independence is central to Philadelphia’s identity. Artists here tend to build the structures they need rather than wait for them to exist.

This abundance is also driven by necessity. There is very little institutional support for emerging and mid-career artists, with few funded exhibition spaces, limited grant infrastructure, and minimal critical art writing. At the same time, the desire for dialogue and visibility is strong, so artists create and sustain their own spaces. Fallon noted that those who endure often “refresh membership regularly” and operate in “a free-spirited and egalitarian way.”

Affordability, though shrinking, has made this abundance possible. Compared to cities like New York or Los Angeles, artists can still “make the space they need to think beyond hustling to pay the bills.” But this model relies on unpaid labor and personal resources. Artists are often working to survive, to run spaces, and to maintain their own practices all at once. It keeps the scene nimble and energetic, but it is not equitable or sustainable.

So, while artist-run spaces consistently emerge here, we question what we mean by “flourish.” Who benefits, and at what cost? What allows these spaces to last, and how often do they disappear as quickly as they appear? Grizzly Grizzly’s model, not showing members’ work, pairing artists in dialogue, and maintaining free, open calls, is one attempt to respond. Still, as Fallon argued, these spaces are vital to the city’s cultural life, and without meaningful support (from City Hall), their loss “would greatly impoverish” Philadelphia.

SOS: In a 200-sq-ft room with a pillar in the middle, every curatorial decision is influenced by the constrained architecture. How much does the space itself reject or transform the work you bring into it?

GG: What makes the space so special is that it refuses neutrality. The pillar, the tight footprint, can’t be ignored, so every show ends up responding to those constraints in some way. That’s where things get interesting. Instead of working around the space, artists work with it, and that leads to installations that feel really specific to this room and this moment.

Sometimes artists transform the space entirely, because at 200-sq-ft, it’s actually feasible to take on a full-room installation. Jonathan Latiano’s A Polar Bear Drowns in Evaporated Seas, for example, turned the gallery into a white landscape of salt with a suspended polar bear skeleton. Latiano built a model of the space in advance to get everything to fit, including the pillar. Other times, the intervention is more direct, like David Herbert’s HAND-ME-DOWN. In this installation, he added a pink wall that cut the room even smaller and made the space feel unstable and constructed.

With collaborative shows, the space becomes part of the dialogue between artists. In We Found A Well, Feather Chiaverini and Natasha Fortson turned the gallery into a shared immersive and theatrical environment. Their works merged into one language, so the space felt less like a container and more like something built and inhabited together. So the architecture doesn’t just hold the work, it shapes how it’s experienced. It creates a kind of pressure that makes each show more responsive, and often more unexpected.

And performance really pushes that even further. In such a tight space, there’s no separation between performer and audience. Events like Hot August Night with speech acts (all-in), a one-night performance by lydon frank lettuce, do that. You’re right there in it. Jordan Deal’s As the Wetlands Take Grounds is a good example; they built this huge wooden horse-like structure with a water fountain out its ass. Deal sat upon the beast and performed using a megaphone to address visitors. It was immersive in a way that only works in a space this small.

Other artists respond more directly to the physical quirks. Using paper, Imin Yeh remade everyday objects found within GG’s walls, light switches, toilet paper, and even a broken metal chair. Brandan Henry drew an eleven-foot figure in charcoal directly onto our patched, uneven walls, working with their imperfections. And in Surfacing, Adriane Colburn and Nichola Kinch built their work on site. Colburn used the narrow footprint to balance a floor-to-ceiling bent wood sculpture, while Kinch constructed a table that centered the pillar, with her work surrounding it. So whether it’s installation, collaboration, or performance, the space isn’t just a container. It pushes back, and that friction shapes the work.

SOS: You’ve been operating for over fifteen years now. At what point does an artist-run space stop being scrappy and start being an institution, and does Grizzly Grizzly resist that shift, or has it already happened in some ways?

GG: It’s interesting to consider what “institution” really means. Grizzly Grizzly’s longevity carries a certain weight and respect, something often associated with more formal, funded, and staffed organizations. Yet structurally, we’re not an institution. We are still an all-volunteer collective, donating time and our personal resources to sustain the space out of respect for the artists and members that came before us.

Moving away from “scrappy” doesn’t always mean becoming institutional. In many ways, we’ve become more intentional. We approach our curatorial projects formally because we have a platform to showcase the work of artists that we believe in. And we believe in giving those artists clean walls, good lighting, and a critical review as a takeaway, if that is what they desire. But we also break that format when the work calls for it, with participatory events, immersive installations, or more creative visions. As a collective, we are driven by a set of ethos that keeps us experimental and untethered to commercial influence. We don’t show our own work in the space, we do not strive for consensus, and we’re committed to frank discussion and unexpected pairings. We are artists curating other artists, supporting a community of makers from within.

SOS: You’re situated in the 319 N. 11th Street building alongside other collectives. How does that physical proximity shape what you show? Is there an unspoken curatorial conversation happening between the spaces on your floor, or do you operate pretty independently?

GG: Being in North Chinatown, in Building 319, has some impact, but the program is really shaped by the members at any given time. Even if we weren’t in a physical space, a lot of our curatorial interests would carry through. That said, being in a central location with other collectives nearby makes a difference. There’s a supportive community and shared audience, people come to see multiple shows, and that gives us room to take risks, bring in artists from out of town, and try things without worrying as much about turnout.

We plan independently, but there are definitely moments of overlap or collaboration, and unexpected synergies across exhibitions. In addition to that, we communicate and collaborate regularly, currently 319 spaces are working together and across the city for Collective Futures later this year. This series of events coincides with the celebrations surrounding the 250th anniversary of the United States and “situates Philadelphia’s artist-run ecosystem within a broader national conversation about democracy, creativity, and collective care.”

There’s also a history of working together. During the pandemic, while our spaces were closed in lockdown, the 2nd floor collectives created the 319 artist in residence, a temporary one-year program to support artists who lost their workspaces in 2020-2021. In 2022, we collaborated again around an international robotics conference held in Philadelphia, which brought in a completely different audience, over 200 visitors from the international academic robotics research community. So while each space has its own identity, there’s an ongoing exchange.

SOS: How does institutional memory and identity survive when none of the founding members are still participating?

GG: A lot of it comes down to what gets passed down; organizational tools are shared between membership iterations to build a continuous operational approach. Things that are useful are maintained, but we are okay with pruning things that do not work or are not helpful to the community. We also continuously shift the content of our exhibitions to fulfill the goal of representing the changing tides of Philadelphia's emerging contemporary art and the varied interests of new members. Grizzly Grizzly has survived nearly two decades because built into its mission is the flexibility for members to propose a breadth of shows, with an interest in timely and experimental work and the pairing of different types of artists to promote new ways of thinking.

Having an archive of past projects and hearing advice from more established members definitely helps preserve the memory of the collective. There’s comfort in trusting that the group knows functionally what works, which leaves room to build off of our format with experiments and new ideas. Our identity feels rooted in experimentation and supporting the artistic community. Every combination of members has its own energetic iterations, and the momentum of an existing collective is motivating to jump into. There’s a rhythm to our planning and execution of exhibitions, events, and publications that provides a helpful framework to build off of.

We would encourage readers here to research our blog, Speak Speak, in addition to our exhibition pages on our website, as they carry another layer of our institutional memory. Speak Speak adds reflection and insight into our exhibitions, not otherwise captured through photo documentation and press releases. Our incredible roster of writers has contextualized many of our exhibitions in the form of essays, poetry, interviews, creative fiction, and more.

SOS: Do current members keep in touch with retired members? Do founding members ever give input on the current management of the gallery?

GG: Yes, especially with people still in the area. A lot of those connections continue as friendships. We’ve also done anniversary exhibitions with past members and hope to do more. Even without founding members present in day-to-day activities, we inherit a living set of tools and stories that are revised over time. There are documents, workflows, and informal lore that explain why things are done a certain way, but there’s also room for experimentation. New members experience that inheritance as both a responsibility and an opening. We learn from what has worked before while also feeling invited to test new formats, conversations, and collaborations. And this flexibility is part of Grizzly Grizzly’s identity: less a fixed style and more a commitment to experimentation, and artists curating other artists without commercial pressure. We’re coming up on 20 years as a collective, and it would be cool to get all past and present members in the same space.

SOS: What do you see as the biggest missing piece in Philly’s artist-run ecosystem right now—funding, space stability, collectors, documentation/archives, art criticism, something else?

GG: A lot of exhibitions disappear after a short run with very little documentation, maybe just a few photos or posts. That makes it harder to build long-term discourse across spaces. We’re less longing for a single new institution and more for connective tissue: shared archives and collaborative structures that can hold what artists are already doing. In that sense, we’re very excited by models like Space On Space’s slow publishing or collaborative projects like the upcoming Collective Futures exhibition.

To make any of this sustainable, we need stronger funding. Right now, this model depends on artist-members having other income and/or day jobs. If rent goes up, spaces disappear. Space stability and support from the city would be a great start. Really, everything in your question is missing to some degree, including who is responsible for preserving this history over time, especially for places like Building 319 that are in a constant state of flux.

Since we don’t have 501(c)(3) status, we’re not eligible for many organizational grants. We self-fund Grizzly Grizzly through monthly dues. With 10 members, we afford the basics such as rent, paint, a website, and a $50 stipend to writers. We’d like to go further and offer honoraria to participating artists. We recognize and value the labor that goes into producing an exhibition and would like to support them at a higher level. That said, we think deeper engagement with the Philadelphia community and greater traction locally with art critics, news reporters (or even influencers) could expand the possibilities for supporting innovative work without the constraints of commercial interests.

Emily Logan is a nomadic art writer and publicist. Since 2020, she’s been building Space On Space: a media movement investigating the connections between land, power, and art. She’s definitely a mom, which makes her a futurist. Previously, she worked as a publicist at ArtCenter College of Design in Pasadena, CA. She holds a BFA in Sculpture from Tyler School of Art and an MS in Innovation Management and Entrepreneurship from Fox School of Business, Temple University.

Space On Space is a media movement started in 2020. Originally a cathartic impulse to process the times, SOS has evolved into an investigation into the connections between land, power, and art. The outlet creates content and offers PR services that help artists, designers, and businesses take up more space in the media. At the intersection of art writing and public relations, SOS interrogates the line between mythmaking and the historical archive. The publication has produced three print magazines and a mountain of digital content covering artists from around the world. The publication hosts parties, art talks, and poetry events. In a media landscape built for speed, SOS slows down—because depth is disruptive, and attention is power.

spaceonspace.com

915 Spring Garden St, Suite 215, Philadelphia, PA 19123

Gallery Hours: Tuesday–Friday: 11 a.m.–6 p.m.; Saturday: 12 p.m.–5 p.m. or by appointment.

fleisher-ollmangallery.com

Space On Space: Fleisher/Ollman has been open since 1952, 73 years in Philadelphia. The gallery started as the Little Gallery on Manning Street, moved to Walnut Street, then to Arch Street next door to the Fabric Workshop and Museum, and now you’re on Spring Garden Street. What does each move tell you about where the gallery has been and where Philadelphia’s art ecosystem has shifted?

Alex Baker: I think it tells more about rental cost increases than it does about art ecosystems, but as we all know, these things are inextricably linked.

SOS: You came to Fleisher/Ollman in 2012 after serving as senior curator of contemporary art at the National Gallery of Victoria in Melbourne. Before that, you were at ICA and PAFA. What was it about Fleisher/Ollman’s program that pulled you out of institutional curating and into the commercial gallery world? And how did four years in Australia change what you saw as possible in a gallery program?

AB: Well, I knew the gallery very well and admired its program during my PAFA years. I was lucky enough to have landed at PAFA when the institution was re-evaluating its European art holdings, which were off mission since the museum was devoted exclusively to American art. PAFA deaccessioned most of its European collection and used the proceeds to acquire mainly post-war American and contemporary art. I acquired some great things for the museum by Philadelphia contemporary artists, and also a terrific Jim Nutt painting and HC Westermann sculpture, falling under the post-war mandate. Many of the young Philadelphia artists we acquired were out of Fleisher/Ollman shows, and the Nutt and Westermann works were from Fleisher/Ollman. So that is how my relationship with the gallery first began—as a museum client.

I have always been interested in how self-taught art resonates with modern and contemporary art. In a nutshell, that is Fleisher/Ollman’s mission. Over the past 15-20 years, I have been investigating what self-taught art might mean in a contemporary context. To me, that context is the progressive studio programs (also known as disability studios) that focus on providing artists with disabilities places to make and show their work. I thank Chris Johanson and Harrell Fletcher for pointing me in the direction of the studio programs. As trained contemporary artists, they have collaborated with disabled artists in very exciting ways—in projects, publications, and exhibitions. It was a major exhibition at the National Gallery of Victoria that Harrell and I worked on together that opened my eyes to this whole new art world. Arts Project Australia in Melbourne was one of the participants in our exhibition “The Sound We Make Together (Melbourne).” Arts Project is one of the first such studios in the world, opening in 1974.

So when I began my director role at Fleisher/Ollman, the first thing I wanted to do was to move beyond just 20th-century self-taught art—what the gallery is renowned for—and focus on the contemporary progressive studios to stress that self-taught art is a breathing, living entity, not something from the past. We represent the pastel artist Julian Martin from Arts Project Australia, and we have shown many artists at Fleisher/Ollman from various disability programs in our area. In 2019, I curated an exhibition at Arts Project that featured a group of artists from progressive studios in Philadelphia, so Fleisher/Ollman (and I) have been supportive in getting Philadelphia artists exposure beyond the usual parameters of the art fair/gallery circuit.

SOS: The language around this work has changed a lot—outsider, folk, visionary, art brut, self-taught vernacular. John Ollman has talked about these terminological debates going back decades. Where has the gallery landed on that language now?

AB: No one has really landed on the best term. I like to say that human beings always need to categorize the world, and these categories can be very flawed. Self-taught, vernacular, outsider, these adjectives are in continued use. I think that what we are trying to do, even when using problematic terms, is to underscore difference, that this work is different from the art of trained individuals. “Difference” can also signify, in the context of American self-taught art of the 20th century, art made by impoverished people of color; several canonical artists of the last century were also women of color. In the contemporary context, disability is another marker of difference within self-taught art. Disability might be the next aspect of identity politics to be fully embraced by the contemporary art world, with the San Francisco Museum of Modern Art’s major acquisition of art by Bay Area progressive studio artists in 2023 and the 2025 Turner Prize awarded to an artist with a disability, Nnena Kalu, who works out of the ActionSpace, a progressive studio in London.

SOS: The Philadelphia Wireman is one of the most fascinating stories—roughly 1,200 sculptures found in a South Street alley on trash night in the late 1970s, the maker completely unknown. Fleisher/Ollman has been the primary representative since 1982. What does it mean to steward the legacy of an anonymous artist?

AB: It means raising awareness of this anonymous Philadelphia artist through gallery and museum exhibitions and finding good homes for the material. The Wireman has been seen in shows across the world in Paris, Melbourne, Naples, Berlin, and Wellington, and in American galleries like Matthew Marks, James Cohan, and Richard Telles, among others. Wireman sculptures are in museum collections such as the Smithsonian American Art Museum, the Newark Museum, and the American Folk Art Museum.

SOS: The gallery currently says it is not actively seeking new artists to represent. What does that boundary look like in practice? And when you do bring someone into the program—like Molly Metz, who’s had two solo shows and showed at Independent Art Fair—what does that relationship look like from first studio visit to gallery artist?

AB: We are a very small operation—owner, director, part-time assistant director, and part-time preparator—and representing artists requires much responsibility, resources, and staff time. Hence, the “not actively seeking new artists” phrase. So the boundary is real.

SOS: At the “Made in Philly” panel at Uffner & Liu in December, the conversation turned to the recent art school closures—University of the Arts shutting down overnight in June 2024, PAFA ending its degree programs. You’ve been connected to both of those institutions. As a gallerist, how have you felt the fallout? Are you seeing it in the pipeline of emerging artists, in studio visit culture, in who’s showing up?

AB: Despite these shutdowns, I have honestly not seen the effects on the Philadelphia emerging artist scene. That scene is very much alive and incredibly resilient, with places like the more established artist-run spaces in the Crane and Vox buildings, Space 1026, and then newer spaces like Big Ramp, Information Space, and 5U further afield. There is even a new artist-driven commercial gallery called Procession in Olde City.

SOS: That panel was held in a New York gallery—Uffner & Liu—showing work by Philadelphia artists. There’s something pointed about staging that conversation in New York rather than in Philly. The exhibition description even acknowledged the curator’s position as “an outsider” trying to grasp Philadelphia’s community. What does it mean when New York starts paying attention to Philadelphia as a scene? Is that validation useful, or does it risk flattening something that works precisely because it’s not trying to be New York?

AB: Well, Rachel grew up just outside Philadelphia (in Jenkintown, I believe) and is less of an outsider than we might think. But she is definitely new to the contemporary emerging artist scene in Philadelphia. In the larger art picture, I think New York art appreciators have been drawn to Philadelphia for a long time. The PMA, Fabric Workshop, and ICA have always attracted NY audiences, I imagine. And now that the Barnes has relocated downtown and Calder Gardens has just opened, there are even more enticing reasons to visit on an institutional level. But I honestly do not know if New York art audiences are paying attention to the emerging artist scene. I bet some young New York artists are envious of our lesser rents and more affordable lifestyle, so perhaps we will see more folks relocating here and/or paying attention.

SOS: On the panel with you was Anthony Elms, who ran the curatorial program at ICA for years. You’ve worked at ICA yourself. Philadelphia has this unusual density of institutions for its size—ICA, the Barnes, the Philadelphia Museum of Art, Fabric Workshop, PAFA’s museum—but the degree programs are shrinking. What happens to a city’s art ecosystem when it still has museums but loses its schools?

AB: I am not sure. Right now, as I mentioned earlier, I don’t think the demise of schools has affected the emerging artist scene. I have always wondered what the Philadelphia post-graduate art student retention rate is. How many recent art school grads stick around? In the medium- to long-term range, the demise of art schools may have an impact on the art ecosystem with the absence of artists who might choose to stay. But with Philadelphia’s status as an affordable city, might we continue to draw artists from other, more expensive cities? So I guess I am hopeful that even without two art schools, our scene might still thrive.

SOS: Philadelphia has a deep infrastructure of artist-run spaces—Vox Populi, FJORD, Grizzly Grizzly, Tiger Strikes Asteroid, and others. Many of the artists on your roster came up through those spaces. How do you see Fleisher/Ollman’s role relative to that ecosystem?

AB: The spaces you name have inspired our program throughout the years. And yes, the artists that we represent have come up through these spaces. Our relationship with the alternative spaces can be seen as a “next step” venture. But even though I am very conservative in representing artists, what you will see in our exhibition program are many group/thematic exhibitions that draw from the energy of artist-run spaces. As mentioned previously, a central source of inspiration comes from the Philadelphia-area disability studio realm, whose artists feature in our exhibitions, sometimes alongside artists from the alternative space scene.

SOS: What does the collector base look like in Philadelphia right now?

AB: That is the million-dollar question, as I always say! Not good. Most of our sales are to clients elsewhere. There seems to be more and more new wealth settling in our city, but we have not figured out a way to convert them into art collectors.

SOS: What’s the biggest missing piece in Philadelphia’s art ecosystem right now?

AB: In terms of our business as a gallery, trying to build/discover a local art collecting base. In terms of discourse, creating one! Newspapers are in crisis (there is no longer a Philadelphia Inquirer art critic) there are no more weekly papers (in the 1990s through mid 2000s these were really important as they published criticism across the art spectrum from artist-run-spaces to museums), ArtBlog has ceased online publication, and as far as I am aware, there is no longer a dedicated Artforum Philadelphia critic. The latter is a tremendous void, as it was an important avenue to expose Philadelphia exhibitions and artists to the rest of the world. There are others that I miss also, like the online publication Title, for example.

Emily Logan is a nomadic art writer and publicist. Since 2020, she’s been building Space On Space: a media movement investigating the connections between land, power, and art. She’s definitely a mom, which makes her a futurist. Previously, she worked as a publicist at ArtCenter College of Design in Pasadena, CA. She holds a BFA in Sculpture from Tyler School of Art and an MS in Innovation Management and Entrepreneurship from Fox School of Business, Temple University.

Space On Space is a media movement started in 2020. Originally a cathartic impulse to process the times, SOS has evolved into an investigation into the connections between land, power, and art. We create content and offer PR services that help artists, designers, and businesses take up more space in the media. At the intersection of art writing and public relations, SOS interrogates the line between mythmaking and the historical archive. The publication has produced three print magazines and a mountain of digital content covering artists from around the world. We host parties, art talks, and poetry events. In a media landscape built for speed, we slow down—because depth is disruptive, and attention is power.

spaceonspace.com

1400 N. American St. Suite 105, Philadelphia, PA 19122

automatcollective.com

Space On Space: There’s such an abundance of artist-run spaces here in Philly. What do you think it is about Philadelphia that allows artist-run spaces to crop up and often flourish?

AUTOMAT: There is a scrappy energy to Philadelphia, and that translates to the artists of the city as well. Philly artists are creative, curious, and persistent. They support one another and push their ideas forward with ambition and heart. When they see that something vital is missing in our city, they come together to fill that gap. When public funding for the arts gets cut, isn’t accessible, or doesn’t exist in the first place, folks come together to find creative new ways to go forward. In Philly, artists take this do-it-yourself approach because no one else is necessarily coming to build it for us. We will build the arts scene we want to see.

SOS: AUTOMAT is now over 10 years old. Congrats! How has the collective evolved since the beginning?

AT: Yay! Thank you! Ten-years felt like a real milestone for the organization. I joined the collective in 2019 and have seen many ways we have evolved - from small things like how we manage our shared tasks to big things like our physical location, but throughout my time with AUTOMAT, our founding principles have remained consistent. We are a curatorial collective that is committed to supporting the careers of emerging and mid-career artists. Our structure as a collective allows us to operate outside of the constraints of a traditional commercial gallery, so we get to show exciting new artwork without market pressures, giving artists the space and the support to experiment.

It’s been exciting to watch the organization make goals and achieve them, like creating physical and digital publications, expanding public programming, and providing artist honorariums for each of our curated exhibitions. The ways we are able to support artists have significantly grown, and I’m eager to see what the next 10 years hold. - Kate Testa

SOS: There’s a history with PAFA at AUTOMAT. All 8 founding members were MFA grads from there, I believe. What does it mean to run an artist-led space in a city that just lost two of its primary pipelines (PAFA and UArts) for emerging artists?

AT: There is a ripple effect when institutions like these close and the loss of UArts and PAFA was a real hit to the city in so many ways. We were born from the PAFA community, so there has always been an informal relationship with that institution. When PAFA closed in 2024, we invited alumni and educators from the PAFA to exhibit in our space for the Pathways exhibition. It felt like a nice acknowledgement of that early chapter of AUTOMAT and a way to celebrate the end of a beautiful era.

We also have many past and current members who work in higher education, and we’ve seen firsthand how the loss of these institutions shrinks the already competitive job market. Philadelphia’s students also enrich our artistic community, and many will go on to contribute enormously to its future. Spaces like ours have an obligation to support these young artists and give them a place to land. As long as we’re here, we’ll be here for them.

SOS: On Counting Backwards From Ten (Soso Capaldi and Ollie Goss) The exhibition pairs two artists whose work engages overlapping institutions—organized religion, property, policing—but through very different registers: Ollie’s work is theatrical and constructed, Soso’s is intimate and process-driven. How did this pairing come about?

AT: I had the pleasure of working with Ollie and Soso on this exhibition, my first show at AUTOMAT Collective since joining the team. I’ve been following both of their practices from afar and was marinating on showing them in a space together. I appreciated the playful energy present in both of their work and thought they could complement each other well, both materially and with their varied approaches to world-building. They were both individually excited at the prospect of showing alongside one another since they’ve been friends and feeding off one another’s practices for some time; it felt only right to follow that excitement and let them cook. Artists who spend a lot of time together can often be considering overlapping topics, but still have their distinct processes and approaches, so I think what we were left with was a very dynamic show utilizing kinetic sculpture, drawing, and video installation that imagined new more equitable futures and was a testament to their creative camaraderie. - Dana Suleymanova

SOS: The show ended March 28 — what’s coming next?

AT: We are excited to be hosting another installment of the Incubation series, a curatorial project designed by masters students from UPenn, in April, and then we will return to our member-curated shows starting in May. In October and November of this year, two of our members are curating a show and making an accompanying publication as part of Collective Futures, a citywide celebration of Philadelphia’s artist-run spaces that will happen alongside the more official semiquincentennial celebrations. Earlier this year, we solicited proposals from a list of nominated Philadelphia artists, asking them to imagine the future of Philadelphia. The submissions were beautiful, hopeful and foreboding, imaginative and deeply grounded in our city. We’re excited to share all of them in a book of writings and sketches that celebrates the art of the proposal, and to help bring four of those submissions to life with a show of new works in our space.

SOS: How does AUTOMAT navigate curatorial decisions?

AT: AUTOMAT members take turns having curatorial slots throughout the year, at times teaming up to co-curate exhibitions as well. Each member is given curatorial freedom with their exhibitions, leading to a mix of solo, two-person, and group shows throughout the year. Annually, we hold our Open Call exhibition where a rotating committee curates from that year’s applications. Even though we all bring a different curatorial vision to the table, I think there is a common language and greater vision that we are all working with that leads to an unplanned and organic continuity between all our shows. It’s always exciting to see that story unfold as the exhibitions progress throughout the year.

SOS: What do you see as the biggest missing piece in Philly’s artist-run ecosystem right now—funding, space stability, documentation/archives, art criticism, something else?

AT: Funding is always going to be an issue, and this is why the collective model works for AUTOMAT. In addition to the skills, network, and curatorial vision that each member brings to help support the group, we also financially support our space. This gives us the ability to look forward with confidence. The greater funding landscape in Philadelphia is always shifting, and though we’ve received generous support from some of these institutions, it’s never guaranteed. When there is stability in funding, it allows for organizations like ours to expand, evolve, and respond to the needs of those we serve. It’s a precarious time for art and artists, amongst so many others, but we have hope that there’s light on the other side of this period, and that Philadelphia will come back stronger and more vibrant than ever. We always do.

Emily Logan is a nomadic art writer and publicist. Since 2020, she’s been building Space On Space: a media movement investigating the connections between land, power, and art. She’s definitely a mom, which makes her a futurist. Previously, she worked as a publicist at ArtCenter College of Design in Pasadena, CA. She holds a BFA in Sculpture from Tyler School of Art and an MS in Innovation Management and Entrepreneurship from Fox School of Business, Temple University.

Space On Space is a media movement started in 2020. Originally a cathartic impulse to process the times, SOS has evolved into an investigation into the connections between land, power, and art. We create content and offer PR services that help artists, designers, and businesses take up more space in the media. At the intersection of art writing and public relations, SOS interrogates the line between mythmaking and the historical archive. The publication has produced three print magazines and a mountain of digital content covering artists from around the world. We host parties, art talks, and poetry events. In a media landscape built for speed, we slow down—because depth is disruptive, and attention is power.

spaceonspace.com

1720 N. 5th Street G2, Philadelphia, PA 19122

Gallery Hours: Saturdays 1–5 p.m. or by appointment

fjordspace.com

Space On Space: There’s such an abundance of artist-run spaces here in Philly. What do you think it is about Philadelphia that allows artist-run spaces to crop up and often flourish?

FJORD: Philly has the perfect balance of (mostly) affordable cost of living, city size, climate, and an economic structure, which means that we create our own community and dialogue. This is similar to how Eastern European artists created the discourse and platforms around their work after the fall of the Berlin Wall in 1989, when they suddenly had a connection to the Western “art world” but needed to establish visibility. There’s a lot of interesting scholarship on this that has come to light in recent years, and while a very different scenario materially, it is something which we can relate to in our own way.

There’s a reality to the difference between the art economy of Philadelphia and larger cities with more prominent art economies like New York or Los Angeles. The gallery economy for emerging artists is more robust in New York and LA as a result of significantly higher international population and capital density. People get touchy when you compare Philly to New York; this is not about that at all. New York is the finance capital of America. Therefore, it is the art capital of America. Even Chicago, which is a comparably-sized city and has many artist-run spaces, also has a higher capital density, which makes the whole environment more competitive and less collaborative. Perhaps with lower financial stakes, we are doing it for the love of the game in Philly.

It’s real freedom to make art because you love to, to create community because you love to, to show up for your friends. Because there isn’t the same pressure to make art for the market, you can really explore your practice and ideas fully. People are making incredible work in this city, and they are absolutely hustling, too.

On top of that, Philly has a history of collective action. There is something about this city that makes people come together and create powerful movements. The 250th Commemoration is coming up, which, for all its deeply compromised histories, is about a group of people organizing in order to self-determine. Other examples include MOVE, the landmark Civil Rights organizing around Girard College integration, 1965’s ECHO protest, and community-based NO ARENA PHL in Chinatown and the Stadium Stompers in the Temple area of North Philadelphia. People speak their minds here. They are engaged in the neighborhoods in which they live. Maybe there’s something in the water (there definitely is). Someone should write their PhD thesis on the history of collectivism, and particularly art collectives, in this city. There’s a story here to tell. We’re part of it.

SOS: You became a 501(c)(3) nonprofit at some point during the last few years. What did that change in practice? Did the formality of nonprofit status create tensions with the DIY ethos that started FJORD in a Frankford Avenue row house?

FD: It changed very little in terms of our curatorial ethos but gave us a tremendous amount of security and stability in terms of our finances and legal status. Obviously, as a 501(c)(3), we are now eligible for additional funding streams, but equally as important, it has insulated individual members from personal financial and legal liability. When we were on Frankford Ave, we paid our rent to a shady middleman with a wad of cash. Now we have a real structure with all its responsibilities and benefits. The DIY ethos won’t change, and if anything, having less stress around the legitimacy of our legal status means we have more freedom to focus on the quality of our programming.

SOS: Something special about FJORD is how you curate shows as a collective. The curatorial strength of your collective was very apparent when I viewed Diorama of a Sunrise Setting, which was such a strong show. You are also invite-only for members, so I assume there’s significant care and consideration when it comes to determining who’s invited to join. Can you share more about how your group collaborates?

FD: We have enough structure in place internally to make sure everything that needs doing gets done, but enough flexibility that we give our members space to prioritize their own lives and practices. So when someone has a residency, or a big show coming up, or something important going on in their personal lives, we make space for them. Similarly, when a member comes to a meeting with an exciting idea for a show, we make space. We don’t have a strict schedule for programming, which lets us prioritize the ideas and artists that feel most vital. Usually, whichever member proposes a show will take the lead in working with the artist(s) and serving as the point person, but we each pitch in according to our capacities and abilities. Sometimes that takes the form of curating, which is obviously the heart of what we do, but it also means tasks like taking meeting notes, organizing our calendar, sending out emails, etc. The members we invite to join understand how to balance the fun, exciting work with the more mundane but vital stuff that keeps FJORD running.

SOS: Can you go into how curation worked for Zach Hill’s show? How much was Zach involved in curating it vs FJORD members?

FD: We’ve worked with Zach before on an iteration of Zach’s Crab Shack, his curatorial outlet, showing the artists Ále Campos and Jordan Deal. For that project, we turned over the keys to the space and let Zach and his co-curator Jameson Paige run with it. For his solo show, the ethos was pretty much the same. While FJORD members were around to help with logistics and bounce ideas off of, ultimately, the curation was up to Zach. It’s rewarding to let an artist run with their ideas in the context of a solo show where they have complete freedom. We’re looking forward to a similar structure when we show another artist and curator, Libby Rosa, later this year.

SOS: You’ve now occupied three fundamentally different spaces—a rowhouse on Frankford Avenue, a unit in Crane Arts, and the ground floor of the Tie Factory at 1720 N. 5th. Anthony mentioned in 2023 that the white-box feeling at Crane started to feel “not quite our speed.” Can you talk about what the current space—with its red pipes and dungeony feel—actually does to the work you show? Is there art you’ve had to say no to because of the room?

FD: The space we currently occupy strikes a good balance of professional presentation, with a hint of grunge and, most importantly, flexibility with management that allows for a decent amount of freedom in the hours we keep for the gallery and the type of art we are able to show. We enjoy being in the building with Mission in Arts to align events and occasionally lend each other more space. We are close enough to the Crane to join in on Second Thursdays when we want, without the pressure to commit. The pipes are a presence for sure, but one we have grown to live with (some members embrace them more than others!), and occasionally artists decide to work with them in their installs. Ruth Jeyaveeran, in our December show, hung her soft sculptures from the ceiling pipes. Fanni Somogyi, from our most recent open call, uses copper pipes in her sculptures, and we all loved how they felt they were emerging from our space. And Oakley Tapola and Hannah Lee Hall even inserted small sculptural objects into some of the cut-off pipe ends that still stick out of parts of the wall.

SOS: I’m still trying to get an understanding of the collector culture in Philadelphia. I know, as an artist-run/nonprofit space, you’re not necessarily beholden to collectors, but can you lift the veil at all for me?

FD: FJORD’s focus has always been about curating work that we find interesting and vital that might not have a space in more commercial projects that are driven by sales. Every once in a while, a collector might come through who is interested in purchasing an artwork, more often than not someone who already knew of the artist. But we make that pretty clear to the artists we work with; they shouldn’t be expecting to sell out. In Philadelphia, there are some stellar commercial spaces–Locks, Pentimenti, Fleisher/Olmann, among others. They have funds to do fairs, which connect them to a wider collectorship, and they also exist in more polished spaces and parts of the city that, perhaps, feel more comfortable to the collector class.

SOS: How do you navigate collector relationships with artists showing at your space? How often are you liaising these conversations, and dare I say, deals?

FD: At this point, we do not have a focus on cultivating collector relationships, and since we are a non-profit and run by a collective of (very busy) members, it would consume an inordinate amount of time and energy to make this our focus, likely for not much reward. Instead, our financial efforts are focused on concentrated fundraising: our annual open call and things like our anniversary and holiday parties. These events take a lot of time and effort to organize, and generosity from our community to be successful, and feel more in spirit with our mission to champion the arts. The fee from the open call, while waivable if someone can’t afford it, provides a crucial injection of funds that keep the lights on, and also serves to expand our awareness of potential artists for future shows. FJORD really only exists because people care, show up, and choose to participate in it.

SOS: Does it ever feel like Philadelphia has a ceiling for growth as an artist? Do you (any of FJORD’s members) ever feel pressure to move elsewhere (to a bigger art city) to grow your career, or no?

FD: It depends on what kind of artist you want to be and what kind of career you want to have. Philadelphia has certain limitations, but only if you’re interested in a very narrow idea of what success as an artist means. There’s obviously been a ton of pressure on higher education in recent years, and the closure of places like UArts has made it much harder to sustain a stable income through teaching, which was once the go-to path. But even among FJORD members, we hold a wide variety of day jobs, side-hustles, gigs, and hobbies. Sometimes growth as an artist comes through growth in other areas of life, and in that sense, Philadelphia still offers a great balance for working artists, even if it lacks the traditional blue-chip commercial galleries and institutional support.

Philly’s proximity to New York is also helpful. Artists in Philadelphia are showing in New York and having incredible careers. Yes, maybe it takes a little more hustle and legwork to get busy gallerists and curators into your studio, but more and more New Yorkers are moving to Philadelphia than the other way around, and with them, they bring their networks. We know many Philly artists who have made the leap to commercial spaces in New York without having to hustle to afford New York rent. It seems like a win-win. On the flip side, all the migration to Philly has definitely had an increasing impact in seeing affordable housing and studio spaces dry up (many studio buildings over the past few years have been sold and converted to luxury apartment complexes). Philly is distinct from New York, and that feels important. We are interested to see what changes Mayor Mamdani brings to the challenges facing New York’s affordability for artists and if similar solutions could be implemented in Philly.

SOS: Why have you chosen to root your practice in Philadelphia?

FD: Go Birds. But really, the energy in Philadelphia is more artist-directed for reasons we have touched on and therefore interesting to our own goals as makers. It is still (mostly) affordable for us to be here, but in order for it to stay that way, the city needs to prioritize helping our constituents who make the city the cultural hub that it is. The Illuminate The Arts grant is one such way the city has been making strides toward that effort, but it will need to do more to help arts orgs beyond Mural Arts and a few select institutions if it wants to continue attracting artists and the economic benefits they bring with them.

SOS: What do you see as the biggest missing piece in Philly’s art ecosystem right now—funding, space stability, collectors, documentation/archives, art criticism, something else?

FD: Funding is a big one! More plentiful and accessible funding would allow for all kinds of additional programming and general stability in this field. Another big need is more art-writing (we are so excited to see SOS emerging on the scene). This scene deserves a lot more notice than it gets, and with more attention will follow more opportunities for artists and arts organizations. Also, this sounds unrelated, but we need more investment in public transit to make getting to all of the art spaces around the city easier! What we wouldn’t do for an art bus.

SOS: Any current or upcoming shows you’d like to promote?

FD: We have a busy spring and summer!

Opening March 21st: Two-Person show, featuring Ava Hassinger and Christina Kerns, curated by Natessa Amin

Opening May 9th: Three-Person show, featuring Logan Crompton, Ryan Scails, and Jocelyn Tsui, curated by Sean Starowitz, a grouping that came out of our open call

Opening June 27th: A group exhibition responding to the World Cup, curated by Amira Pualwan

Philadelphia Location: 1400 N. American St. #107, Philadelphia, PA 19122

Gallery Hours: Saturdays 12–6 p.m., or by appointment.

tigerstrikesasteroid.com

Space On Space: There’s such an abundance of artist-run spaces here in Philly. What do you think it is about Philadelphia that allows artist-run spaces to crop up and often flourish?

Tiger Strikes Asteroid (Terri Saulin): Philadelphia has long been a welcoming and affordable city for artists to build community. Many organizations, like The Clay Studio, began as small groups of artists renting space together and gradually grew into larger, community-based nonprofits. The presence of several colleges and universities with strong art and design programs—such as Moore, Tyler, PAFA, formerly UArts, Drexel, and UPenn—helped establish a creative hub in the city. Historically, Philadelphia was also a major center of industry at the turn of the century, supporting skilled trades and crafts that laid the foundation for the city’s vibrant arts and craft communities today.

SOS: TSA has been around since 2009, started in Philly, but now has locations in New York, Los Angeles, Chicago, and Greenville, SC. Each space has its own personality and runs semi-independently. How would you describe how they’re each unique?

TSA: Each TSA location reflects the unique character of its city and the perspectives of its diverse members. While all share the same spirit and mission, every space has its own personality, shaped by the local community, culture, and creative energy.

SOS: In that Creative Independent conversation, Paik described artist-run spaces as “an alternative” to the commercial scene, “adjacent” to commerce, and more experimental because they aren’t reliant on sales. Does this mean that TSA never sells artworks? Do you ever get approached by collectors about work on display?

TSA: We do sell artwork—just not as consistently as we’d like—but it does happen! Personally, I’ve sold quite well through the space, though I make what some would call “functional” work. We show a wide range of art: some installations, some performance or time-based pieces. Whether a piece sells really depends on the show and the work itself.

SOS: Artblog quoted a TSA member describing TSA as a “scrappy non-profit” that relies primarily on grassroots funding, and naming Patreon as a key support channel. What kinds of programming become possible when your funding is grassroots rather than grant-driven—and what new pressures come with subscriber-supported infrastructure?

TSA: We don’t feel pressure from subscribers at all. Funds from Patreon help supplement things like sliding-scale member dues, stipends for independent curators, and photography of exhibitions. Essentially, it supports the nuts and bolts of running the space, making programs possible without compromising our vision.

SOS: In Maake Magazine, TSA framed artist-run projects as increasingly vital as galleries close or go “fairs only,” and said artists are being called upon to create their own discourse. How does TSA help artists create discourse?

TSA: TSA provides space for artists who might otherwise go unnoticed. Our members often serve as curators, and we also invite guest curators or hold open calls. We operate in a constant loop of discovery, amplifying the voices of artists shaped by our members’ unique experiences and perspectives.

SOS: I noticed something called Collective Futures that is launching in fall 2026. Why is “mapping the ecosystem” important right now?

TSA: One of our members, Greyory Blake, has been representing us for Collective Futures (and they developed the website and core brand identity). This citywide celebration is a fantastic demonstration of both the importance of collectivity and discovering creative solutions to the issues that currently plague our nation. We’re not able to do it alone, and in meetings and working together, we’re able to demonstrate our strength. Many of the involved artist-run organizations and galleries have a very creative approach to the general prompt. We’ve used this as an opportunity to feature curator and artist Stephanie J. Woods, who will be coordinating a solo exhibition of video installation artist Johannes Barfield’s work (both Albuquerque-based). This exhibition, titled Soft Crash, will also re-examine the contextual meaning of “Collective Futures” within a speculative sci-fi narrative concerning a future shaped collectively through acts of repair.

SOS: What do you see as the biggest missing piece in Philly’s artist-run ecosystem right now—funding, space stability, documentation/archives, art criticism, something else?

TSA: All of the above! Affordable space is no longer what it once was—it’s at a premium. Writing about art nearly vanished, but small groups are doing their best to make a valiant return. I’m an optimist and see it coming in waves. Art is that important, and we keep fighting for it.

145 North Second Street, Philadelphia, PA 19103

Gallery Hours: Tuesday–Friday 10 a.m.–5 p.m.; Saturday 12–5 p.m. or by appointment.

pentimenti.com

Space On Space: I saw Pentimenti’s recent project space work, we call the moon the people’s wife, a collaboration with Vox Populi and Aitor Lajarin, the artist currently showing at your gallery. What do you see as the relationship between artist-run spaces and more commercial galleries in Philadelphia?

Christine Pfister: I see the relationship between artist-run spaces and commercial galleries as an important and ongoing dialogue. Both share a common goal: to support artists and the work they create. Artist-run spaces often provide room for experimentation and early visibility, while commercial galleries can help sustain artists over the long term through resources, networks, and broader exposure. Together, we contribute to a vibrant ecosystem in Philadelphia, where different models and approaches strengthen one another and create more opportunities for artists at every stage of their careers.

SOS: How often are you collaborating on projects, or at least, talking with one another?

CP: I always collaborate on projects. This year, Pentimenti was thrilled to collaborate with Vox Populi. It was our first project together and a meaningful moment for us. Building on that momentum, I’m excited to share news about an upcoming partnership with the Museum for Art in Wood. It is a special joint event and talk. Hosted at Pentimenti, this event will shine a spotlight on the work in our solo exhibition by Dan Gunn, featuring insights from Jennifer-Navva Milliken, Executive Director and Chief Curator of the Museum for Art in Wood, on May 28. More events will take place throughout the year.

SOS: I was struck by this quote I found from you, “To me, Philadelphia is not only the most European city in America, but also one of the most honest. Neither the city nor the people try to be anything they are not.” What makes Philadelphia feel like a European city to you?

CP: What makes Philadelphia feel like a European city to me is how walkable and connected it is. You can easily hop from one gallery to another, or from museum to museum, all on foot or by bike. This accessibility isn’t just for visual arts; whether you are interested in theater, opera, ballet, or the orchestra, much of the city’s cultural life is within easy reach without a car.

SO: The Swiss Consulate’s address is literally the gallery’s address—145 North 2nd Street. How does that overlap play out in practice? Do diplomatic visitors become collectors? Do diplomatic events become exhibition opportunities?

CP: I serve as the Honorary Consul of Switzerland, which is a limited-hour, unpaid position. In this role, I help support economic, educational, and cultural ties between Switzerland and Pennsylvania, and I assist Swiss citizens as well as individuals planning to travel to Switzerland.

I generally keep my consular responsibilities separate from my work in the arts, although there are times when the two naturally intersect. The position also gives me access to opportunities that I’m able to share with my networks both here and in Switzerland, supporting individuals, institutions, and museums when appropriate. I’m always eager to foster exchanges that strengthen the cultural relationship between Philadelphia, the Commonwealth of Pennsylvania, and Switzerland.

SOS: There is a sense of stability I feel in your space, despite the overall instability of the art market climate. You were trained as a statistician, then you took a crash course at Christie’s before taking over Pentimenti. How does that background influence your process as a gallerist? And how have you been able to remain in business for over 30 years?

CP: At Pentimenti, I have made it a priority to foster a culture where everyone feels welcome and comfortable engaging in conversations about art. No matter someone’s background or level of experience, curiosity is what truly matters; you can’t grow or discover anything new unless you are willing to try. I hope that spirit of openness creates a sense of warmth and wonder from the moment someone walks through the door.

I actually joined Pentimenti after it was founded, so I wasn’t there from the very beginning. My background in business, as well as my art education both here and in Switzerland, has been incredibly helpful, providing a strong foundation for understanding the mechanics of running a gallery. Of course, the art world is a different ecosystem from what I was familiar with, but that foundation made the transition much smoother. I feel very fortunate for the support of so many Philadelphia collectors, artists, and friends, as well as collectors beyond the city, whose encouragement has allowed Pentimenti’s program to thrive for over 30 years.

SOS: Your roster is around twenty artists. How do you think about the ceiling on that number—is there a point where more artists means less attention, less service? And how do you decide when to bring someone new in versus deepening commitment to someone already on the roster?

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319 North 11th St. 3rd Floor, Philadelphia, PA 19107

Gallery Hours: Thursdays from 4—6 p.m.; Friday–Sunday from 12—6 p.m.; or by appointment.

voxpopuligallery.org

Space On Space: There's such an abundance of artist-run spaces here in Philadelphia. What do you think it is about Philly that allows artist-run spaces to crop up and often flourish?

Vox Populi: I think there is a very strong DIY culture in Philadelphia—not only in the arts but in almost every facet of civic life, from the truck bed modifications that scrappers self-rig to the cones that appear in potholes to the hundreds of basements that have been converted into speakeasies and music venues. Artist-run spaces, like Vox Populi, are a part of that ethos and legacy. Philadelphia artists go out and create the spaces that they need.

And, luckily, this remains financially viable here in a way it no longer is in many other major cities. While affordability is relative, the cost of rent, studio space, and shared commercial leases in Philadelphia still makes it possible for artists to take collective risks and sustain experimental spaces over time, something that has become increasingly difficult elsewhere.

SOS: Vox Populi has been running since 1988—what conditions made it possible then, and what conditions keep it possible now?

VP: In 1988, a group of artists came together and pooled their resources to rent a space and start a gallery—just as many collectives in the city, both new and established, still do. Being a collective member meant paying dues and directly supporting the organization’s finances. It was entirely self-governed and self-staffed by the collective, with members sharing both the creative vision and the operational labor.

In 2006, Vox incorporated as a nonprofit. That shift allowed the organization to apply for foundation and government grants, establish staff positions and a board of directors, and redistribute some of the administrative and financial responsibility that had previously rested solely on artists’ shoulders. Importantly, the artist collective remained the guiding force of the organization’s programming and vision.

Today, we are primarily funded through grants and institutional support, supplemented by individual donations, many different types of fundraising events, and earned revenue through event rentals. That diversified funding structure, combined with ongoing collective leadership, has made it possible to sustain Vox for nearly four decades while still centering artists as decision-makers.

SOS: I came across an essay published in Title Magazine, titled “Longevity: On the Life Spans of Artist-run Spaces.” In what ways does being non-commercial shape the kind of experimentation Vox can support—and are there ways it also limits what’s possible?

VP: Being non-commercial means it doesn’t matter if an artist’s work sells or not; in fact, Vox isn’t really involved with selling artwork at all, apart from the occasional fundraising event. It means we can give artists free rein to make work without the pressures of generating profit for the gallery. For us, being non-commercial doesn’t feel limiting; it feels clarifying. We’re not structuring programs around sales targets or collector relationships, so our decisions can stay rooted in artistic inquiry and collective vision. We operate within the realities of nonprofit funding, of course, but those frameworks don’t dictate the content of the work. If anything, they allow us to double down on experimentation as a core value.

SOS: What do you see as the relationship between artist-run spaces and more commercial galleries in Philadelphia—competition, collaboration, parallel ecosystems, something else?

VP: I experience the relationship as both parallel ecosystems and collaboration. Vox recently collaborated with Pentimenti Gallery, for example. In many ways, we operate within parallel fiscal ecosystems, but culturally, we’re deeply interconnected. We’re often working with the same artists. And I’d hesitate to frame this relationship as existing only between artist-run and commercial spaces. Larger arts organizations are part of this ecosystem, too. Even if those institutions don’t always see the ways small, artist-run spaces influence the field or their work. Artists, curators, and audiences move between all of these spaces, and that permeability is part of what makes Philadelphia’s cultural landscape dynamic.

SOS: What does it actually cost to keep the doors open—emotionally and/or financially—and how do you cover it?

VP: The cost to keep the doors open has varied from year to year—and is reflective of both larger economic factors as well as Vox’s capacity. The cost from day to day is an extreme amount of human labor–from collective members, from artists and curators we work with, from staff, and from our board–most of these people are volunteers, and it is this generosity of time that keeps our doors open. It means many, many meetings where people from different backgrounds have to come together and decide on a mutual plan.

SOS: I noticed something called Collective Futures that is launching in fall 2026. Can you talk more about this?

VP: Collective Futures is a six-week, citywide initiative launching in fall 2026 that will activate more than 30 artist-run and community-centered spaces across Philadelphia. We’ve been holding large, collaborative planning meetings since 2023, and we’re excited to come together with so many partners and peers to present an ambitious and deeply interconnected slate of programming.

Featuring over 25 visual arts exhibitions, 15+ public programs, printed media, and a public symposium, Collective Futures demonstrates the range and scale of experimentation and cultural infrastructure thriving in Philadelphia. Through exhibitions, publications, and public programs, Collective Futures investigates the inner workings, histories, and creative processes of collectives and DIY spaces in the city.

Collective Futures affirms Philadelphia as a thriving center of artist-run spaces and artist-centered cultural infrastructures. It highlights the strength and resilience of non-hierarchical, collective models as foundational to the city’s creative life. By positioning collective practice as both an artistic and civic methodology, the initiative celebrates and reinforces the networks, relationships, and shared resources that make Philadelphia’s cultural ecosystem dynamic and enduring.

SOS: Why is “mapping the ecosystem” important right now?

VP: I think a map helps people find what they are looking for – and helps everyone locate themselves relationally.

SOS: Is the sentiment the same now as it was in 2016 when the Apollo Magazine piece was written?

“West Philly punks won’t talk to the South Philly punks,” but everyone turns up to support each other as “the art community has to hold itself.”—Bree Pickering

How have things changed?

VP: I won’t pretend to have confident knowledge about the inner workings of Philly’s various punk scenes, but I will say there is a vast, complex, interwoven set of artistic, political, cultural, and subcultural communities that are invested in the arts in Philly, and they may sometimes all find themselves at the same event. I do think, at its best, there is a “more is more” attitude that encourages collaboration over competition.

SOS: What do you see as the biggest missing piece in Philly’s art ecosystem right now—funding, space stability, documentation/archives, art collectors, art criticism, or something else?

VP: All of these things are important and could always use strengthening. But I do think funding and space stability are huge—more than anything, a healthy arts ecosystem needs the means to make art and show it to other people.

2024 E Westmoreland St., Philadelphia, PA

Gallery Hours: (most) Saturdays, 2–4 p.m.

infoinfo.space

Space On Space: There’s such an abundance of artist-run spaces here in Philly. What do you think it is about Philadelphia that allows artist-run spaces to crop up and often flourish?

INFORMATION: There really is, and we love that about Philly. We think that partly there’s not the same sort of financial pressures here that there are in larger markets. Philadelphia is in a precarious and most likely temporary position where artists can still afford to rent spaces that they don’t expect a return from. When you aren’t spending 90% of your waking hours trying to hold onto your housing, we think that gives artists a lot more freedom to take risks.

That’s not to say the rent isn’t expensive, it’s just not as much of a barrier to entry. The low(er) rent at INFO is what’s really given us a lot of runway to try things, take risks, and also take breaks.

SOS: You started in 2019, congrats on making it through the pandemic and for 7 years! That’s no easy feat. How did the space start?

INFO: It’s hard to believe that 2019 was 7 years ago, but I guess time really does fly…

INFO is built in the front of our studio, as we were lucky to find a large enough space that we could dedicate some to show work. It was scrappy from the start, building walls as needed to document our own work until we felt we had a “real” gallery space. We knew some other folks in DIY spaces and loved the freedom that came from being able to curate exhibitions with few limitations. We were already paying rent on the studio, so we took our time building everything out, including the large swinging door that separates the two sides.

And to be fair, we definitely took a long break during the pandemic, but didn’t lose our space completely like some friends of ours unfortunately did.

SOS: Why the name “INFORMATION?” What does that word mean to you in an art context?

INFO: The short answer is that the name comes from the sign on the door. But the real answer is we were looking for an expansive name that would allow us to do a variety of programming, from more familiar exhibitions, to music shows, to workshops and performances. INFORMATION is also borrowed from the 1970 MoMA exhibition that brought together a cohort of young international artists who were expanding the definition of art through their use of technology and nontraditional media. An impossible legacy to continue, but the name allows us to keep any idea on the table and contributes to us having a wide range of events and programming.

SOS: Who runs the space day-to-day, and how do responsibilities actually get divided (curation, install, admin, hospitality, documentation, conflict mediation)?

INFO: All four of our active members, Adam Franklin, Veronica Knell, Matthew Speedy, and Sarah Celona, take on different roles for each show depending on the circumstances. That non-answer is another way of saying we don’t have a formula, and we’re still figuring it out with each show that we put together.

We generally cycle through curating, as we all have slightly different interests creatively. Sometimes we team up or curate as a group, but we have a sort of informal “point person” for each show. One person will organize artists or performers and work on a statement, while others will assist with graphics and installation. It can be an overwhelming amount of work sometimes, but it has been conflict-free so far.

We all do our best to be as hospitable as possible on opening days and make everyone feel welcomed and engaged. We encourage folks to bring their kids and pets to the shows and do our best to be as inclusive as we can be.

SOS: Artblog notes programming that spanned both INFO and Big Ramp, and frames it as a “rebirth” moment for INFO’s public-facing activity. What’s your relationship with your next-door neighbor, Big Ramp?

INFO: We knew some of the Big Ramp folks from their time at Pilot Projects (RIP). When they were looking for a new space, we connected them to our landlord about the vacancy next door. We had been sporadically doing shows with a skeleton crew for awhile so when they decided to set up an exhibition space, we took the opportunity to focus on our curatorial projects with a bit more discipline.

Our first show in a while, Death Card, was a joint show with Big Ramp (they took their name from the eponymous obstacle in their space). The exhibition title came about because, in the tradition of Tarot cards, the Death Card is supposed to bring about new beginnings. It seemed like a good omen to start our curatorial pursuits back up. We had a lot of fun, and while we have separate shows more often than not, we coordinate our exhibitions and events to support each other.

SOS: How has INFORMATION evolved since you began?

INFO: We had no clue what we were doing when we started, and now we almost know what we’re doing.

The mission statement we had at the beginning (and try to return to often) is that we want INFO to be an experiment on what can be in a gallery space. We don’t really have any rules for artists showing in the space. We encourage them to go nuts. Trash the space if they want. Do something that any other space would never want to work with them again after.

Our first show was Chris Hammes’ Pond Theory, and he had an array of fountains that leaked water everywhere. There were also some alarm clocks hooked up to electric guitars that would periodically wake up our visitors with some loud riffs. It was a challenging exhibition to install and maintain gallery hours for, but our first priority is to support artists in the projects they would otherwise struggle to realize.

For our second show, Moses Kinney laid sod down in the entire space for a month. The gallery became humid and felt like a terrarium in the best way. Visitors were encouraged to enter barefoot and engage with the large backlit paintings hung on the walls. That one was a little more painful to deinstall because the grass tried to take root on the concrete, and we had to get shovels and scrape it off the floor.

The space has also evolved to be flexible and forgiving. We’ve been inconsistent in our programming over the years. We made the decision that when we don’t have a good or complete show to put on, we don’t rush it. We would rather do our best to put on compelling programming than just fill the space because we feel like we need to.

We also realized that doing the hardcore experimenting we were doing in the early days isn’t sustainable to do every show. It can be expensive and labor-intensive, and we don’t have the resources to do that type of programming every month. We encourage it as often as we can. But we also know it isn’t something that we can count on doing consistently.

SOS: When you’re open only a small window (“most Saturdays, 2–4 p.m.”), how does that constraint affect the community around the space?

INFO: This is definitely a limiting factor to our community access, and we talk about this often. We all have jobs, families, and our own studio practices, so the reality is that’s all we can commit to currently. A lot of artist-run spaces, including us, rely on the opening and closing receptions to bring visitors in, which is a different challenge, but allows us to focus our efforts and pool resources. That said, we are always open by appointment and are happy to accommodate anyone who’d like to come visit us outside of our regular hours.

Over the years, we’ve tried different gallery schedules, including longer weekend blocks and weeknights, and didn’t see much change in the amount of foot traffic. We’re a block away from “K&A” and are in the middle of the neighborhood at the center of the opioid crisis in Philadelphia.

We mention it because we’ve had visitors comment about that, and think there’s likely still a lot of folks who just don’t feel comfortable coming to the neighborhood. That isn’t a judgment on them or the plights or people of Kensington. We just think that’s going to limit who is going to come to the space, unfortunately. It’s a shame because the people of Kensington have been great to us as friends and neighbors, and often visit the space during receptions.

SOS: What does it actually cost to keep the doors open—emotionally and financially—and how do you cover it?

INFO: INFORMATION is a financial black hole.

That doesn’t mean we don’t love it. But it feels a lot like a boat. It gives us immense pleasure and fills our thoughts between the bills that it makes for us.

Emotionally, it can be draining too. There’s so much that goes into an exhibition, and it’s never the same. Some installations don’t cost us any money, but do keep us there long into the night, getting everything set up. One open call we put together for artists who don’t have art degrees received nearly 100 applications, a daunting task that took every minute we had available to install. Part of the breaks we take between shows are due to those factors as well.

SOS: I loved reading about INFO in Whitehot Magazine back in May 2025. How did this piece happen? Did you reach out, or did Edward pursue you?

INFO: Edward Waisnis had worked with our artist, Kyle Kogut, on other projects in the past, so they coordinated an interview. Once they got started, the piece became a sprawling review of Philadelphia arts venues, including a bunch of our friends in the DIY community.

SOS: I noticed something called Collective Futures that is launching in Fall 2026. Where do you think INFO sits in that ecosystem?

INFO: We attended a few of the early organizational meetings but dropped the ball when it came to finalizing a proposal. We’ll still have programming coordinated with them; we’re just not currently on the website.

SOS: What do you see as the biggest missing piece in Philly’s artist-run ecosystem right now—funding, space stability, documentation/archives, art criticism, tech resources, something else?

INFO: Funding is a major component. The same gift that allows us to exist in the cracks of the city also limits how big we can grow. At least before we have to morph into something else. We’ve talked about what commercial success would look like for INFO and if the changes to our style of programming would make it something we’re interested in.

We’re excited about Space On Space’s return to Philadelphia, because after the loss of ArtBlog, there has been a noticeable lack of art writing in our community. It is something we have lamented with other DIY spaces as we attempt to fill the gaps with sporadic Substack posts.

SOS: What’s coming next for INFO?

INFO: Returning to our roots. We’ve got a few more expansive and destructive installations planned for 2026. And some less intense but exciting ones, like the napkin open call. It was an open call we started just before the pandemic, which was never realized. We had incredible submissions in early 2020 that we want to return to.

1400 N American St., Philadelphia, PA 19122 | First Floor of Crane Arts

Gallery Hours: Check in with the gallery for hours

iceboxprojectspace.com

Space On Space: There’s such an abundance of artist-run spaces here in Philly. As someone who’s been running Icebox Project Space for over a decade, what do you think it is about Philadelphia that allows artist-run spaces to crop up and often flourish?

Icebox Project Space (Timothy Belknap): I think Philly artists are extremely resourceful and, for the longest time, were able to function on a DIY shared economy where artists pooled resources, gathered in cheap large spaces, and, for the most part, mirrored a city that was financially struggling but with an underdog mentality.

Thinking back about how I started running an art space, it was my collaborator Ryan McCartney, and I who first started doing artist projects in Icebox about 15 years ago, while we were acting as the primary art handlers for this massive space in Kensington. We both had met the owners through Tyler School of Art, and with our backgrounds in construction, had been hired to do construction on the building during the summer, which evolved into helping with exhibitions. Then, when there were available slots and times in the Icebox, we’d propose show ideas. Then, over the course of maybe a year, we were given the keys and asked to manage the programming. This arrangement worked well because we could bring in ambitious artists and projects due to our ability to make almost anything possible, but I don’t think either of us had any ambition around running an art space, and I don’t think we would have in any other city.

We ended up running an art space, in my opinion, because Philly has lacked a pipeline of curators and organizers who would typically fill these roles. When I lived in Chicago, I just remember how many recent graduates were starting art spaces in their garages, houses, etc., and I wanted to be that curator or organizer. And when someone in Philly chooses to go into curating or opening a gallery, there just is not enough money, attention, or support for it to last more than a few years.

I have had the pleasure of working with so many incredible curators and organizers here in Philly, but financially, they are competing with developers for space, NYC for sales, and at times, the large Philly-based art non-profits for opportunity. I think someone only has so much energy trying not to pay out-of-pocket for a space and then needing to try to convince people to show up, and just doing that over and over and over. That can take a real emotional toll, and I feel like the collective model is just trying to carry that weight and distribute it among several artists.

SOS: Your mission language emphasizes community betterment and social change, and programming with urgency and relevance. What does “urgency” mean to you in practice?

IPS: I think our new mission statement doesn’t use the word urgency, but for me, urgency can mean addressing the needs of your community, possibly around safety or access, but I also think that there’s an urgency in an artist’s practice. I think artists need to take steps forward, or leaps of faith. There are a lot of times I’ll be talking to an artist who is right at that moment, and I start feeling that urgency and desire to trust them and support them.

SOS: Do you think of the Icebox as a gallery that hosts performance—or a performance venue that hosts exhibitions—or something else entirely?

IPS: I definitely think of the Icebox as a project space first. It’s a large space that’s great for workshops, an idea being ambitious, and we aren’t connected to anyone every year. Our calendar is divided into January and February, where we build our space out to look more like a concert venue. Then, we switch to a more visual art-based focus, and then will slip into performance and dance, film screenings, installation, and music. I love this about the Icebox, but I also think that it illuminates a problem here in Philly. When I go to our openings in different spaces, I recognize that crowd as belonging to that space, or if I go to certain concerts, I recognize that crowd as being a part of that particular music scene, and that goes the same with theater, circus, performance, dance, and so forth. I don’t feel like we have as much of a core following because we are so fractured in our programming. When we have an exhibition, I have a good sense of who’s gonna show up to that, and when we produce a concert, I know who’s gonna show up to that, but I wish there was more of a crossover.

SOS: What does it actually cost—financially and emotionally—to run a space like the Icebox?

IPS: Icebox is not a nonprofit, and we’ve always considered whether we should become a nonprofit. I think we still choose not to become a nonprofit to maintain an edge and agility, where, from my experience, becoming a nonprofit kind of smooths you out with a focus on a long term stabilization. But that has always left the Icebox unable to apply for a lot of the larger funding, and so it really does live paycheck to paycheck. Ryan, Logan Cryer, and I have worked for the Icebox for free because we believed it’s important, but that forces us to have to get second or third jobs to then pay our own bills. Running the Icebox would be emotionally less taxing if that weren’t the case. Every couple of years, we find ourselves back at a breaking point where we are just exhausted and don’t know if we want to continue. I can’t speak for Ryan and Logan, but the thing that keeps me going is my belief in Art as my religion.

SOS: Artblog mentioned a past show where a functional suspension bridge was built in the middle of the room. What does it take for you to say yes to ambitious fabrication at that level?

IPS: I’ve just never thought about anything being that hard to make. Obviously, there are restrictions around the cost and time, but if I don’t know how to build it, there is somebody who already knows how to build it. It’s just finding those people to make large and ambitious things happen. The Icebox is primarily run by Logan and me, but we also have an incredible crew of people who come in and help us when we have these larger or more ambitious projects. I am so grateful to anybody who has come in and helped us transform the space.

SOS: If a project like Collective Futures is mapping and strengthening the ecosystem, what would you want the public to understand about Icebox’s role in that network?

IPS: I think it would be great if the public thought of the Icebox as an intersection point through all these different forms of art and creativity, and that at any moment they might be having a new experience that is outside of their normal exposure, and that the Icebox feels alive.

SOS: What do you see as the biggest missing piece in Philly’s artist-run ecosystem right now—funding, space stability, documentation/archives, art criticism, tech resources, something else?

IPS: I think saying money is maybe too easy an answer. I think what I would say is more investment into the art scene of Philadelphia from both the city government, the viewing public, and some of the larger funders.

We could have a town of a million artists and no art scene if you don’t have people doing the work of a curator, organizer, or facilitator. So please go support the people who are putting on the shows that resonate with you, thank them for their work, and volunteer time if you have it.