Shannon Johnson
As a radical feminist, I see connections everywhere as I am constantly examining life through an understanding of structural patriarchy. While utilizing a feminist lens I explore issues of bodily autonomy, social justice, intimacy, trauma, mental illness, and sexual violence. Using photography, printmaking, bookmaking, and installation I seek to explore and understand the relationships between the images, objects, and interpretations of the roles and values of women and our bodies.
The art making process is an embodied activity. It engages the entire body in response to a creative urge or desire to express oneself. Printmaking is a strenuous practice that requires your whole mind and body to maintain an equal stamina to complete its process, not once but multiple times—in hopes to present a uniformed final product. The way I make photographs is embodied. When I am making a self-portrait, I contort my body to extremes to get the just perfectly right angle or refraction of light. To photograph oneself is a radical act, because it’s an act that demonstrates self-reclamation. When I click the shutter, I rewrite every dialogue I have had.
As I am processing my sexuality, trauma, and identity, I am simultaneously gathering archival photographs—creating my own archive of historical female identity, companionship, interaction, romantic friendship, and sororal solidarity. I am attempting to piece together my process of recovery from sexual violence and discover how integral these female relationships were and continue to be part of my processing of trauma. My work is explicit and raw—its direct confrontation is essential to convey the urgency of my rage and my abiding need for freedom.
I come back in with a one-two, 2025.
Archival inkjet print, 20 × 13 in.
Don’t Fucking Touch Me (and I hope you fucking suffer), 2024.
Monotype on Rives BFK paper, 30 × 22 in.
Something More Tender Still (that’s why I love fall), 2024.
Photolithograph on inkjet print on Rives BFK paper, 20 × 30 in.
IT’S A CRAVING NOT A CRUSH, 2024.
Silkscreen print on Somerset paper, 18 × 18 in.
Pansies (darling, you’re so pretty, it hurts), 2025.
Ink, colored pencil, and collage on inkjet print on paper, 16 × 20 in.
he/they
Jason Parent
My work began with a deep dive into my family’s photo albums, where I unearthed both personal histories and a nuanced, complex understanding of myself through the lens of the past. As I uncovered hidden narratives in the margins of these photographs, my queer identity emerged within the conversation. This exploration has expanded to photographs sourced from random eBay lots and flea markets, which I examine through the same lens—seeking layers beyond the surface. In these images, I discover evidence of queer existence, often in the form of a subtle touch, a coded glance, or a distant longing, all of which I uncover through careful investigation. As I continue to find and share these stories, I am compelled to confront the tenuous existence of queer archives, their fragility, and the ephemeral nature of queer identity. My work anchors these narratives in permanence, preserving the memories that might otherwise slip away, and presenting them in a way that invites audiences to see, feel, and understand.
Truth (“I don’t want to know,” he says, staring down the barrel of my truth), 2024.
Acetone image transfer on Japanese paper, 4 × 2 ½ in.
Transcript, 2024.
Artist book, 7 ¾ × 6 ¼ in.
If You Only Knew (IV), 2024.
Acetone image transfer on inkjet print, 4 ½ × 4 ½ in.
Ties That Bind I, 2024.
Acetone image transfer on Japanese paper, 4 × 3 ½ in.
Hold On, 2025.
Acetone image transfer on paper, 5 × 4 in.
he/him
Jerry Rodríguez Sosa
My art is rooted in my heritage as a Mexican American, queer artist from Brownsville, Texas. Through printmaking, photography, drawing, and sculpture, I unearth the intersections of my identity with the history and politics of the Borderlands. I navigate a border psyche, where themes of hybridity and queerness deconstruct personal, cultural, and international boundaries. I conceptualize the Borderlands as both physical and ideological spaces disrupted by clandestine crossings. I move between archival imagery and expressive mark-making, combining inks and earth-based materials, such as charcoal and clay to ground my work in the physicality of the landscape. Additionally, I build on my family’s legacy in tile installation, using the concept of tiling to construct layers and patterns of symbols rooted in my heritage. Through my interdisciplinary practice, I challenge personal and collective knowledge, using a visual language that confronts the borders around us.
Terroir, 2024.
Letterpress on archival inkjet print, 8 × 8 in.
Vigilantes, 2024.
Monotype on paper, 30 × 22 in.
Parade, 2024.
Relief on paper, 16 × 14 in.
You Set My Soul On Fire, 2024.
Letterpress, acetone transfer, and spray paint on paper, 14 × 11 in.
Livestock, 2024.
Reductive screen print on paper, 14 × 11 in.
she/her
Susan Swirsley
I use historical and contemporary photographic processes to translate digital, film, and camera-less images onto paper, fabric, acrylic, and other surfaces. Resourcefulness, experimentation, and the use of out-of-date materials, such as expired paper, and botanical remnants are integral to my practice. I create works ranging from intimate to large-scale, such as handmade books, prints, and installations.
I examine and question how photographic images function, what they represent and what we expect from them. My work is focused on the unpredictable intersection of abstract and representational images. Process, materiality, illusion, light, time, and the juncture of chance and preservation in photographic images play an important role in my artistic practice. I harness elements of chance by using photographic paper and chemicals in unexpected ways, pushing them beyond their intended functions. Experimentation shapes my practice, leading to an expanded version of photography, one that includes methods, materials and ideas more closely related to printmaking and painting.
A Certain Blue, 2025.
Archival inkjet print on Japanese paper, 35 × 31 in.
Infinite Blue, 2025.
Archival inkjet print on Japanese paper, 35 × 30 in.
Luminescence, 2024.
Archival inkjet print on Japanese paper, 35 × 27 in.
Birth of the Simple Light, 2025.
Archival inkjet print on Japanese paper, 13 × 19 in.
Tectonic Plates, 2025.
Archival inkjet print on Japanese paper, 35 × 24 in.
he/him
Tung-lin Tsai
HOW TO FOLD A PAPER AIRPLANE
On August 2, 2022, Nancy Pelosi’s visit to Taiwan triggered an immediate response from China—trade restrictions were imposed, military exercises escalated, and the long-standing tensions in the Taiwan Strait once again surfaced on the global stage. At the time, I was in San Francisco, watching these developments unfold through the media. The images of Chinese fighter jets and naval formations conveyed a sense of impending war, even though no war had begun. The conflict that had always been an invisible undercurrent in my life was suddenly brought on the table.
Despite growing tensions and increased Chinese military activity in Taiwan’s Air Defense Identification Zone (ADIZ), when I returned home in 2024, daily life on this island continued as usual. The crisis I had witnessed through the media felt far removed from the normal rhythms of Taiwan’s streets. Taiwan embodied this duality—crisis and normalcy coexisting. In a recurring dream, a giant red paper airplane drifts across a table. It is absurd yet persistent, weightless yet charged with meaning. This dream became the metaphor for my work. The photographs from How to Fold a Paper Airplane do not carry the burden of Taiwan’s unresolved history, nor do they attempt to define the complexities of cross-strait relations. Instead, they hold the weight of unbearable lightness itself as they unfold the absurdity of the current situation. Reality then resembles a paper airplane beyond our complete control. Yet perhaps we can still fold it—and let it fly.
殲16 (Shenyang J-16), 2024.
Photograph, 20 × 24 in.
太陽花 (sunflower), 2024.
Photograph, 20 × 24 in.
地基主 (Landlord Deity), 2024.
Photograph, 20 × 24 in.
紅白塑膠袋 (red white plastic bag), 2024.
Photograph, 20 × 24 in.
YYYY–MM–DD, 2024.
Photograph, 24 × 36 in.