Three artists explore new ideas, new materials, and new possibilities, honing in on specifics and refining their skills. Our latest exhibition presents new works in a variety of mediums, in personalized scales and individualized scopes.

Always the trickster, LN Tallur makes sculptures that interrogate themselves, usually without a lie detector present. His newest series of small-scale works harness the potentialities of 3-D printing along with the pitfalls of casting aluminium in voids dug into sand. Model and mold are interchanged, resulting in objects which present their backgrounds first and hide their identities at full face value. The precision of long-distance digital communication has been employed by the artist to make sculptures from a continent away, only to revel in the deliciously unkempt qualities of ancient modalities. A self-portrait mask, an emptied rock, the footprint of a sandal, a Buddha for a pandemic: with these works Tallur wonders about the eternal conundrums of positive vs. negative, substance vs. appearance, the imprint and its reflection, and where the soul might be hiding within the body.

Ayesha Singh reduces architecture to its barest essentials: the arc of a dome, the profile of a roof line, the stoic boundary where wall meets floor, the invitation suggested by the shape of a doorway. These details are carefully chosen from real buildings with determined, often messy, histories and whether or not the viewer can discern these historical precedents within these geometrical outlines are part of the artist’s entertaining sleight-of-hand. Previously articulated in a scale approximating actual architecture, in new works fabricated in stainless steel Singh’s miniaturized renditions posit the shorthand of these spatial references, offering more condensed versions of her perceptions into the material diffusion of politicized histories and the contradictions inherent in constructed forms.

As if formed in a centrifuge or plucked from the powerful vortex of a tornado after it has decimated a row of houses, new sculptures by Martand Khosla elegantly dangle in space. His lexicon is constructed by the rectilinear elements with which we organize our lives: bookcases and bureaus, windows and doors, the grids of apartment buildings, and the compartmentalized containers for storage. Mashed together into spheres as if molded by hand, these delicate satellites of pale wooden tones are neither solid nor transparent, existing somewhere seemingly without gravity, direction, or purpose. The architect’s precise craft of model-making has led Khosla to forms that mimic the verdant proposals of ripe fruit ready to be plucked or the blossoms of flowering trees.