Heaviest, Heaviest, Heaviest is a site-specific installation featuring work by filmmaker Seejon Czaplicki and kinetic sculptor Abhishek Narula. In a moment when experience is increasingly flattened and disembodied, the installation insists on physical presence. Understanding does not emerge through observation alone, but through traversal. Meaning is not contained within the object, but produced in the space between body, form, and time. This spatial reality cannot be apprehended in its totality at once.

The work participates in a lineage of sculptural practice from the 1970s that privileged bodily comprehension over explanation. Weight, movement, and duration functioned as primary modes of knowing. What feels urgent now is not a return to those forms, but a question posed from within a digital present that continually compresses time:
Can a body still feel time in a culture that collapses it?

“Where Metronomes Meet” Featuring Nathan Byrne, Nicholas Dogwillo and Chelsea Ayumi Koga with special guest; CG

This final exhibition in the How Are You series brings together three artists; Chelsea Ayumi Koga, Nicholas Dowgwillo, and Nathan Byrne. Each artist's work meditates on time as a sensory material. Each offers a kind of attunement: to weather, to decay, to environment, to memory. Together, their works do not seek to resolve time, but to stretch it, agitate it, hold it gently at the edges.

Music Box Interior  invites visitors to lie down, press their face into darkness, and listen. Quilted with care the rust-colored bed-like sculpture contains hidden microphones that amplify the user’s breath in real time. What begins as a private act of inhale and exhale, becomes a shared soundscape, offered outward.

Nick Szymanski’s paintings offer us an opportunity to see—to pause time long enough not just to look, but to perceive. “The greatest thing a human soul ever does in this world is to see something,” wrote John Ruskin. “To see clearly is poetry, prophecy, and religion, all in one.” And yet, our minds are wired to overlook. To avoid overwhelm, we compress, shortcut, and filter. We look, but often without seeing.

In a room gridded by hundreds of stripped sticks, order, control, containment, even self-erasure seems to have won. This is a site of emotional compression. Every line suggests a task completed, a feeling suppressed or carried for someone else. This is a landscape of caregiving and overstimulation. A space that holds the desire to be everything for everyone. And yet, it is also a space of choice, and ultimately, of release. 

Mater(hood) features recent works by Grand Rapids based artist Emily Mayo. The exhibition showcases narrative figurative charcoal drawings which intertwine the artist’s contemporary maternal narratives with historical imagery, drawing from Victorian hidden mother photographs, the Madonna and Child tradition, and many other references from art history.

This body of work examines the phrase, “space for a string holds the potential of both focused connection and letting go.” There is a delicate balance here, a tension between reaching out and remaining centered, a concept mirrored in the simplest of human anchors: the belly button. Historically viewed as an object of contemplation or “navel gazing,” the navel serves as a literal and symbolic center of gravity, a unique biome, and a physical reminder of our bond with our mothers.