In the opening essay of Vitamin D, Emma Dexter writes, “Drawing is a feeling, an attitude that is betrayed in its handling as much as in the materials used.” Encountering this sentence, I felt an immediate jolt of recognition. Within the discourse of contemporary art, “feeling” is often the least articulated, and paradoxically, the most easily overlooked dimension.
The works in this exhibition orbit around a particular sensibility—one that might be described, however provisionally, as “cuteness.” Whether this sensation arises from the interplay of minute and fragile elements, from a materiality that appears delicate yet quietly assertive, or from the slow drift of color as it shapes a space that feels almost touchable, remains open to interpretation. What is certain is the atmosphere that forms: gentle, tentative, yet insistently present.
At times, defining what something is not proves far easier than declaring what it is. Perhaps this sensibility resembles the fleeting trace of blue in Emily Dickinson’s verse—shifting from dawn to dusk, never fixed, never at rest, constantly becoming.