Time has flown. Counting today, there are five days left to see Beyond at Haw Contemporary in Kansas City. I’ll be giving a gallery talk at 2:00 PM this Saturday, 11/1, which will also the closing day.
Join us at @hawcontemporary
1600 Liberty St.
Kansas City, Missouri
2:00 PM
Photos: @zanescottsmith
My first-ever job in the “art world” was interning for Robert Bingaman at the Kemper Museum of Contemporary Art.
While this feels like a lifetime ago, and so much has changed for us both, I have always followed his remarkable work—watching how it evolves, yet always remains true to his personal aesthetic and concept.
It was my priveledge to write a review of @robertjosiah ’s current exhibition on view at @hawcontemporary for @kcstudiomag . Read it below and be sure to go and see the show!
/robert-bingaman-beyond-haw-contemporary/
Waffle House with Baby Tree, 2025, Oil on Canvas
Denali, 2025, Oil on Canvas
Superposition, 2025, Oil on Canvas
Blackbird 1, 2025, Oil on Canvas
Every few posts, I try to spotlight someone who has had an impact on me as an artist and person. And as I prepare for an upcoming gallery talk, I can’t imagine making sense of my most recent work without recalling a specific moment last winter.
I was holed up in my hometown, lingering at my parents’ house long past the date my car was meant to be repaired after a major collision. The forced stillness wasn’t comfortable. I had grown used to a kind of slow transience, slipping from place to place every few days. But eventually I learned to burrow. Late one January night, I made my way through the labyrinth of racks beneath my parents’ garage to the large box I was looking for. “Slides” was scrawled across an upper flap, and inside was tin upon tin—slide after slide of Kodachrome. I dove in.
Though I admire him deeply, my dad and I are not particularly alike. I have often wondered at the connection I feel to him in spite of our differences. But there was something about these slides—numbering in the thousands—color-coded and labeled with a certain wild exuberance. Moonlight, mountains, wildflowers, wild animals, and Air Force accidents. Carousels of wonder, reliant on the simplest mechanics. Here was this man’s algorithm, I thought, hand-crafted and air-gapped from time—as if what determines mine had already been determining his, long before machines began thinking for themselves.
