In a Group Show at Amity, These Artists Consider the Possibilities in Collapse

Attrition conjures up images of decay, a slow grinding down to the point of dissolution. But this fall, a group show at Amity invited artists to rethink collapse as a tool for reinvention. What ensued was something optimistic, a little unnerving and, at times, transcendent. Among the seven artists on view, three emerging New York artists—Willa Wasserman, Christopher Gambino, and Brittany Adeline King—took the show’s premise in three tantalizing directions. For Gambino, assemblages of sourced and found objects, stockings, and antique weaponry flirt with both the erotic and the unhinged. Elsewhere, King’s paper-stitched silhouettes feel like they’ve just stepped out of (or maybe back into) themselves. And finally, Wasserman’s large scale figurative gestures feel caught mid-materialization, hovering gently between apparition and body. To find out more, we asked the three artists to fill out a questionnaire about dreams, rejection, and completion.

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BRITTANY ADELINE KING, 28, EAST VILLAGE

 

Where do you go when you’ve run out of inspiration?

There is a house my great-grandmother built in Monrovia, Liberia in the 1950’s, just a stone’s throw away from the Mesurado River. My grandmother was raised in this house, my mother was raised between this house and Nigeria; my Aunties, Uncles and extended family alike. It’s seen so much and is so strong. A shelter. When I’m there I can feel all the spirits of my bloodline dancing through me in such a lasting, impactful, and complicated fashion. It gives me the fuel of a million dreams and a genuine sense of home.

How do you handle rejection?

Alice Walker has a lovely quote about this: “Whatever is mine is looking for me.” I always hope for reverence when tasking destiny, a tender respect and acceptance for the unknown. Though I am human and not immune to the occasional dose of backend cheekiness when faced with perceived slights.

How do you know when a work is done?

I struggle with finality as it’s adjacent to an end. There’s a good amount of comfort in the in-between for me. Knowing that my work can grow alongside me, adding and removing and allowing freeness feels good. Outside of work that goes to new homes or is in storage following being exhibited, everything in the studio is subject to change. So usually my works are done when it’s time for them to leave me.

What art trend are you sick of?

When I started making work as a child, that inner feeling of my intuition meeting my intelligence would often overwhelm me. I’ve come to know, love and trust the vulnerability at the core of that feeling. My ability to create and curate is indicative of this; the area where making is a universal experience that allows a profound inward/outward dichotomy that can be transformative in its emotional price and communal function. With this in mind, I’ve always had a hard time with sensationally or transgressively exploitative trends. The stakes are low, the contribution is cheap. Above all else, these trends take me out of deeper understandings. If an artist doesn’t care for integrity, I reserve my right to not care about their work.

If you had unlimited money and materials at your disposal, what would you make?

I feel indebted to a style of comfortable making, and I’ve grown to be most comfortable just being in the world. It’s always a pleasure to figure out that I can make a work from anywhere. Because my process is usually very jazz; completely improvised and free. The earlier sets of dolls came about to the soundtracks A Love Supreme by John Coltrane and Journey in Satchidananda by Alice Coltrane while laid out on the bean bag in my old studio. Since then I’ve gone on to make dolls at restaurants, parks, beaches; it was really cool making them out of my hotel room in Madrid when visiting for a show I was included in at Juf Projects over the summer. I felt like Maya Angelou. I have this massive tote bag that I carry my basic essentials in: sewing kit, trinkets, archival prints and paint. The dolls fit in there too. If I had unlimited resources, I’d like to keep moving across the world, making my dolls, and incorporating all the tchotchkes I acquire along the way.

Tell us about one artwork that has had a lasting impact on your approach:

When I originally started making dolls from paper and scraps it was with my mom and I was in kindergarten. The process was something she had learned in primary school. We would sit and draw and cut away. I had this Lisa Frank binder that was bursting with all we worked on together. I took it to church one Sunday and it was stolen and this totally broke my heart and changed that way of making for me for a long while. When I was home a few years ago I found a collage painting I made around that time in my old bedroom. It has ten doll-like figures dancing on the surface under a disco ball with cut out textile outfits. This work embodies the intention of what making like this meant to me and serves as a catalyst for where I am now. Finding it was like finding myself. It now hangs on the wall of my East Village studio apartment. I even bought a new Lisa Frank binder that my current smaller dolls and their outfits reside in. I keep a more keen eye on this one.

What was your last dream?

My last dream was spirit inbound. This happens when I’m transitory. I’ll be catching a flight to Liberia in a few hours, so my sense of grounding is coming through. Images of loved ones flowed in and out as I spent time with different members of my immediate circle in different environments. There was a sense of swimming through the thick and “The Field” by Blood Orange continued to loop. I saw Kahlil Joseph’s Terms + Conditions (2025) last night at IFC. This was definitely on the crust, as the phrase “I remember the future,” which is in the film, anchored my dreamscape. The director, during the Q&A, credited the line to their collaborator and a favorite author of mine, Saidiya Hartman.

How do you define success?

Success, for me, is a very personal and internal journey. There are the more obvious indicators inlaid in my existence as a first generation, eldest Liberian-Nigerian daughter, aiming to strive in the essential African way. Like getting the masters degree, which I’ve done. And working hard in light of familial sacrifices, which I keep in mind. But I also feel most successful when I am simply the best and most authentic version of me: an honest human, devoted sister, a present child, and a conscious friend. Material and merit aside, the space I share with myself and my loved ones is my truest marker.

How does one win a war of attrition?

This particular theme spirals my head into my heart with thoughts of Assata Shakur. She is a tenant of my psyche as I’ve spent real time holding her instruction close. When I think of her legacy, who wore em’ down more than her? She walked a lonely road I’m sure many could never really know or understand; however I see her and I feel her. Her determination for self-preservation is a fortified truth of undeniable measure. A revolutionary and a portal in her own right; the generosity of the language she gives to covert survival in addition to the actioned steadfastness she is an example of is an offering I do not take for granted. “Love is contraband in Hell, cause love is an acid that eats away bars. But you, me, and tomorrow hold hands and make vows that struggle will multiply. The hacksaw has two blades. The shotgun has two barrels. We are pregnant with freedom. We are a conspiracy.” If I’m winning the war of attrition, I’m winning because Assata Shakur is my ancestor.

Money or clout?

I’m a juug baby at heart. So naturally, I’ma take the money and run every time.

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CHRISTOPHER GAMBINO, 29, GREENPOINT

 

Where do you go when you’ve run out of inspiration?

The “free stuff” page on Craigslist.

How do you handle rejection?

By freaking out and getting really jealous.

How do you know when a work is done?

I never really feel like anything is done until other people see it, I think the final ingredient is always an audience.

What art trend are you sick of?

Found object sculpture.

If you had unlimited money and materials at your disposal, what would you make?

I’d direct a production of Jean Genet’s The Maids and make all of the sets and props.

Tell us about one artwork that has had a lasting impact on your approach:

Doris Salcedo’s Atrabilious installations, where a pair of shoes are inserted into a hole in the wall and covered with a layer of stretched cow bladder. I’ve been really haunted by the image of the shoe separated from the rest of the body since seeing those in person when I was younger.

What was your last dream?

A few nights ago I dreamt I was in an observation room watching myself give birth to a giant egg. I knew that the other me didn’t know that it was an egg and I didn’t want to tell them for some reason. Also the room was made of meat?

How do you define success?

Coming in first place. Second place is okay too if everyone in attendance understands that you were robbed.

How does one win a war of attrition?

I don’t know, I’m honestly really fragile…

Money or clout?

Clout.

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WILLA WASSERMAN, 35, N/A

 

Where do you go when you’ve run out of inspiration?

Various houses of disputed ownership, friends spots.

How do you handle rejection?

Poorly, if coming it’s from those I love/admire (whether real or perceived rejection). I get sad, distraught even. I lay on floor of my studio. I cry, I feel bad for myself. But, it it’s very important to feel viscerally that some people’s regard really matters to me, even though most don’t.

How do you know when a work is done?

Each painting is done many times with several different potential identity end points. They’re nearly always done on the first day of work, but other ends present themselves. Working long enough on a painting becomes like dirt again. You’re back to the start.

What art trend are you sick of?

Fascist art.

If you had unlimited money and materials at your disposal, what would you make?

I like to think I would engage in more productive/destructive/collaborative activity than art, but I might just get tempted by painting again.

Tell us about one artwork that has had a lasting impact on your approach:

Honestly, Helene Schjerfbeck’s self-portraits and Twinflowers. Perceiving, wondering, developing and importantly loosing all ones skills in a kind of exile. Bless her, I’m very much looking forwarding to seeing the show that opens this week at the Met. And palm, a painting by Ren Light Pan from this year. It’s about the possibility of making contact.

What was your last dream?

On Sunday night I dreamt I was with a friend who picks locks. She took us down a sewer entrance in Sunset Park, swam, crawled, emerged into echoing spa in Lower Manhattan with blue and tan lighting and fluffy robe people fleeing from us, we had some kind of weird sex in a pool? Security didn’t stop us because we were basically too disgusting to interact with. We wandered the spa leisurely and exited thru the sewer.

How do you define success?

I have a belt I carve notches into. So far it has only one notch and a partial notch in progress.

Money or clout?

Anti-clout dictatorship.

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