New York, New York: A Review of ‘City Rhyme’ at Starta Arta, NYC (September 15th-23rd, 2022)

Jessica Vance is a writer from the coast of South Texas. Having recently graduated with a BFA in broadcast journalism, Jessica is now fortifying her path to telling stories in every avenue of her life. Her work can be found in Ashamed Magazine, Antifragile zine, FilmDaze, and Black Femme Collective.

Should I get food now? Or after? What if I get food now and after? Just two snacks and that should equate to a meal, right? But would I rather spend money on two small snacks or on one full meal?

This is the mental math I do in the hour after I get off work but before the exhibit I’m visiting has started. and it's what I’ve come to associate the city with; back in Texas I could only scroll past the soft serve taiyaki and chicken katsu sandwiches on my various feeds, but would eventually have to buck up and drive down the single road lined with Whataburger, Sonic, Dairy Queen, and McDonald’s to get probably a burger. This is how I’ve come to know New York in my four months here, the galaxies of food waiting to be tried and appreciated.

While my four-month version of New York is defined in a constellation of food options, there are also lifetime versions of New York, five year and two-week versions, that are defined by architecture, political rallying, and/or relationships formed. In Starta Arta’s ‘City Rhyme’ exhibit, curated by Anna Afateeve, seven artists pose many questions and observations about the city as they know it.

Kelly Monohogan creates scenic vignettes in her work that offer morsels of peace in their pastel color palettes, while conversely portraying the calamity of natural disasters. As someone who’s never understood the affection some have for kissing or dancing in the rain, Monohogan’s ambient paintings makes me feel as though even I could find peace in the eye of a hurricane. Or, at the very least, submit to it when the time finally comes that Mother Nature decides she no longer wants us around (if she ever did).

Markus Holtby, a sculptor and ceramicist, puts forth a collection of sculptures made of forged steel and wood, the two materials that make up most of the city. The arrow-straight lines of the steel and the knots they become with some distance, stir up some difficult emotions; the place where you come from and the place where you’re going. It reminds me so much of getting ready on a Saturday morning, a ball of reckless optimism, to spend the two days I have to myself exploring and divulging in the world outside of my apartment, only to end up lost or distracted, my mood eventually soured by a heat headache and regret, wishing that I could be home instead. Of course, that would be impossible, as it takes at least an hour to get anywhere from anywhere. Thus, I sit on a train and stew, my tension ball growing ever tanglier. Holtby makes some very good if involuted points about city living.

Justin Nissly evokes delicate flowers in his paintings and then drags his thumb through them, creating eclipsing messages. Having to differentiate between colors in one spot as they blend into others in an effort to decode the messages creates an immediate anxiety; a fear that you're missing something deeply important. This is a fear mirrored by the artist once the messaging becomes clear: ‘But Not [Too] Soon’ on a hot pink hibiscus; ‘I Try to Remain Optimistic But Keep Finding Myself Waiting For The Other Shoe to Drop,’ on a red tipped white flower with a yellow center. An insightful way to link between Hawaii and New York: the consumerism of one evolving into tourism of the other; culminating ultimately in harm done to the place people call home. Ironic considering the amount of people looking to co-opt the identity of New Yorker, to become the Main Character of life.

It’s worth noting here that all of the artists showing at this exhibit are white, which is confusing, if not disappointing, considering the racial diversity of the city. When I was tasked with the decision to migrate either here or to Colorado, with two job offers in hand, one nail in the coffin for the Mile High City was that I could not justify being the only black person working anywhere (at my big mental and emotional age???). So far I’ve been pleasantly surprised by how New York has delivered on this front; this exhibit, unfortunately, does not reflect that. Though Kerry Lessard does depict black liberators of the queer community in her work, it feels double edged in this respect.

Another examination of New York lies in its geographically specific memes that have become de facto American landmarks. I recognized Charles Compo’s depiction of a rat drinking a cocktail with immediate affection. In his maximalist piece ‘There’s One in Every Crowd,’ he portrays what I assume to be several cultural references over a sprawling 39.25 x 56.25 canvas; I couldn’t stand to hope to recognize every single one, but I can appreciate the connection I have with the rat guy as evidence of my four-month New York.

Another thing I was surprised to find myself appreciating was the sculpture work of Sabrina Puppin. Through blocks of varying sizes and heights, she depicts the cityscape from above, interspersed with tiles of acidic paint pours. For the first time, I was able to recall with affection the time I spotted a subway car with nearly no one in it (jackpot!) and stepped on, only to discover why it was almost completely vacant: an entire bench painted with vomit. Bless the brave souls for whom it was worth it.

‘City Rhyme’ does an excellent job of imploring us to consider our ecosystems and reflect on the perspectives of the other thousands if not millions of people occupying it alongside us. Though, in a city known for being known, and that people come to hoping to gleam some of that knowness and feel like the Main Character (a potentially dangerous mindset for Americans in particular), it can serve to remind us that there’s beauty and culture in places you might not expect. Check your trees, check your crosswalks and check your neighbors’ birdhouses (figuratively); you’d be surprised by the things waiting to be observed.