Letting Curiosity Lead The Way

From playful sculptures to secret doorways—how a visit to Chelsea reignited my sense of childlike wonder.

I never write from cafes. I almost always work from home, at my office, or occasionally on an airplane. And yet, here I am, sitting at a counter in an Indian cafe in Dumbo, facing Plymouth Street, sipping lavender-infused tea while waiting for spicy cheese toast. I'm feeling particularly inspired.

Earlier today, I was in Manhattan touring office spaces (LES might be on the move), and with time to spare, I headed to Chelsea to see an exhibit lingering on my list. With the afternoon free, I wandered through one exhibit after another, ending up at a small bookstore. I don't usually write art reviews, but one of the things I love about Substack is that I don't have to stick to one thing. So, today, I am sharing the feeling of this creatively rich, soul-filling afternoon.

First Stop: Camille Henrot's "A Number of Things" at Hauser & Wirth

I approached the Chelsea gallery with no preconceived notions. I was unfamiliar with Camille Henrot, but I delight in viewing an artist's work without context, letting my intuition guide me.

Upon entering, I stepped onto a green rubber floor with a grid that stretched wall to wall. Then, right in front of me, a group of sculptural dogs tethered to a pole. It was a familiar NYC sight, except these dogs were anything but ordinary. They were wonky, slightly misshapen, and made from various materials—like a child's version of a dog, built from found objects or doodled onto paper with wobbly enthusiasm.

The exhibit felt immersive, not just pieces of art against a white wall or displayed on a drab concrete floor. It invited interaction and stirred something childlike in me. The work was playful, weird, and full of whimsy. I wanted to touch it, pick up the leashes, and drag those funny dogs behind me the way my daughter used to drag her furry lamb pull toy wherever she went. I did not. (Unfortunately, I am an adult.)

After my first walk-through, I read the exhibition press release. Context layered onto intuition, and as I made my second pass, the feeling deepened. The large bronze sculptures—looping and tangled, like the bead mazes in pediatrician's offices—sparked a visceral nostalgia. I learned that Henrot's work explores the tension between the instinct for play and the structures society imposes upon us. The press release reads:

"As the exhibition's almost childlike title suggests, 'A Number of Things' brings together a disparate but related group of works that collectively address the enormously difficult task that is living, learning and growing in society. With tenderness for the most banal traces of our existences, Henrot offers a meditation on the competing impulses to both integrate and resist the unquestioned structures of society in our everyday lives."

It was one of those beautiful moments when my gut reaction aligned perfectly with the artist's intent. The show felt like a permission slip—to be playful, to look at the world with fresh eyes. Even the gallery staff added to the experience; warm, engaged, unbothered by my curiosity. I got the distinct feeling that I could have reached out and touched the work, and maybe, just maybe, no one would have stopped me.

Visit— Through April 12th

Next Stop: Laura Owens at Matthew Marks Gallery

I headed up the block, making my way to 192 Books around the corner. As I passed Matthew Marks Gallery, a large-scale painting, visible through the glass, caught my eye. I wasn't familiar with Laura Owens, but something about the energy of the work pulled me inside.

I walked into the high-ceilinged gallery, flooded with light, past the receptionist into the back room. Again, I was greeted with that light fluttery feeling in my chest. I felt like a kid surrounded by Owen's enormous paintings—small in the presence of something vast, surrounded by color and possibility. The sheer scale made me think about my kids. Is this how they always feel when gazing upon art? Tiny?

Owens' work didn't just sit on the walls; it was the walls. She had painted pastel pinks and yellows directly onto them, a whimsical painted string trailing along the ceiling.

After a little while, I noticed a set of doorways camouflaged within the artwork. They led to another room and then another, each more immersive than the last. Hidden doors, painted portals, unexpected spaces—it felt like falling down the rabbit hole.

In the next room, Owen eschewed the canvas all together, painting floor-to-ceiling murals on every inch of the walls. There were secret windows, strange shapes, and layers to uncover. In the back, a tiny darkened room held a video of talking crows. I stood there for ten minutes, utterly mesmerized. The whole thing was wonderfully odd in the best possible way.

Even the gallery's reception desk was part of the exhibition—a functional, interactive installation filled with workbooks, sketchbooks, and drawers to rifle through. A phone that buzzed when you picked up certain papers. Every detail invited play. Curiosity was built into the experience.

Visit— Through April 19th

Next Stop: 192 Books

I love a small bookstore—the feeling that someone has carefully chosen every title, the very best of art, poetry, philosophy, children's books, etc. It is the kind of place where you stumble upon something you didn't even know you needed.

To bring the afternoon full circle, I picked up "Milkyways" by Camille Henrot. It is a collection of essays exploring the ambivalence of motherhood and the process of creation in both art-making and life. I am so excited to dive in. I also grabbed a book for my daughter about a boy who can talk to his pets. We are nine Percy Jackson books deep, and while I have grown oddly fond of Percy and his adventures, I am desperate to branch out.

Currently: Sitting in Dumbo, Enjoying Cake

With time to kill before meeting my husband for a watercolor class, I found myself at Fontainhas, an Indian cafe. I had planned to just get tea and a snack, but after the spicy cheese toast, I caved and ordered lemon cake. (Highly recommend.)

Afternoons like this remind me why I love this city: the unexpected detours, the hidden doorways, the chance encounters with work that makes you feel something, and the days spent experiencing rather than producing. It all fuels new ideas and new ways of seeing. I told myself I'd skip sugar this week, but really, what better way to celebrate a day like this than with cake?

Next Up: Watercolor Class at Dirty Hands Studio with Gosha Lochkin

I have enjoyed my new watercolor practice lately but desperately need professional guidance.

Update: The watercolor class was 100% worth it; my technique was wrong.

And now for some LES news… Introducing our newest artist, Gordon Moore!

Gordon Moore is a Brooklyn-based multimedia artist with a deep-rooted appreciation for nature and design. Growing up in a family of artists, he cultivated his creativity from an early age, influenced by a childhood spent fishing, hunting, sailing, and surfing. This connection to the natural world evolved into a passion for science and sustainable design. Gordon pursued a dual degree at Brown University and the Rhode Island School of Design, earning a BA in the History of Art and Architecture and a BFA in Animation. His multidisciplinary approach led him through furniture design, filmmaking, painting, and ceramics. Moving fluidly between digital and physical mediums, he identifies foremost as an object-maker, drawn to the quiet significance of well-crafted, functional forms. Goore’s debut collection with LES includes lighting and furniture. Shop his work here.

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