May 2026 • Volume 003
This week feels like the exact pivot point into late spring that feels like summer at the gallery. The light is staying later, the colors outside are getting louder, and I can feel my own palette wanting to follow. I’ve been itching to make the space fully seasonal, full of that sun-warmed, open-window energy. And yet, with an artist residency beginning in five days, I’ve had this unexpected gift: a forced pause. It’s like the universe said, before you sprint into the next chapter, look closely at the one you’re in.
Thank you to everyone who came to the dinner at the gallery. Truly. The night felt generous and playful and bright, like a little pocket of time where everyone’s guard was down and the room was listening. I keep thinking about the conversations I overheard, the small moments of connection between people who didn’t know each other at 7 pm and were suddenly exchanging studio recommendations by 9. That kind of gathering is why I love doing this.
Marcel + Sotheby’s at the Table
One thing I cannot stop thinking about lately is the recently opened Marcel in New York City and the Sotheby’s plan to display artwork throughout the dining room that diners can actually bid on while they’re eating. It’s such a smart way to collapse the distance between living with art and collecting it. Not the hush of a showroom. Just art, in real time, in conversation, in a place where people are already open.
And selfishly, it feels like a full-circle moment for me. For five years, I worked for the Chairwoman of the Whitney Museum while she led the capital campaign to move the museum from the Breuer building to its current home. It was a massive undertaking, and it reshaped so much of Lower Manhattan around the High Line. Seeing how that whole ecosystem has evolved, and how it’s now making space for ventures like the Marcel, Roman and Williams, and Sotheby’s collaboration, feels wildly perfect. I cannot wait to visit.
I’m also feeling deeply grateful for what’s coming next. More art-focused events are on the horizon, and I’m excited to keep building a rhythm for us that feels intimate, curious, and a little bit surprising.
Floral Abstracts and Other Bright Waves
A funny thing happened this month: I painted. I pulled pieces from my archive. I framed a few things that had been waiting patiently for their moment. And then I installed it all in the gallery. None of it started with a grand plan. I was in deep logistical thought, making sure the auction wrapped up well, getting everything in order for the dinner, and mapping out a multi-city artist residency in Europe. My head was in lists and confirmations and travel days. But when I finally stepped back and looked at what had quietly come together on the walls, I realized there was an actual collection taking shape.
Not in the way that a collection is usually built, with mood boards and statements and a perfectly articulated intention. This one assembled itself through motion, through instinct, through what I kept reaching for when I wasn’t trying to be clever. The works began to speak to each other: a few abstract florals that feel like heat rising, and these bright, wave-like gestures that feel like the emotional version of summer weather. Sudden. Electric. A little unruly. In the best way.
I didn’t have an objective other than being genuinely in love with what I was looking at. There’s something rare about that. It felt like a reminder that sometimes the most honest work arrives when you’re busy living and the studio becomes a place to process it all.
And maybe that’s the real thread right now: making space for intuition. Letting beauty accumulate. Trusting that when you follow what you can’t stop staring at, it eventually reveals what it’s trying to become.
More soon. For now, I’m holding onto the feeling of the dinner night, the accidental collection on the walls, and the sense that summer is arriving right on time.
Current Influences
On Holiday: An Artist Residency
In a week, I’m setting off for a stretch of travel I can already feel will bend the next body of work in new directions. First, a visit to La Colombe d’Or in Saint-Paul-de-Vence, where art and everyday life have been intertwined for decades. Then on to Ischia, where I’ll be painting for a newly opened property set into the landscape, with gardens and sculptures woven throughout.
What I’m most drawn to is the chance to make work that lives inside a place, not as decoration, but as something embedded in the environment. This will be the beginning of a permanent painting collection I’ll be developing on site, piece by piece, in conversation with the setting itself.
From there, I’ll continue on to the Venice Biennale, where I’ve been invited into a small gathering of artists and curators. Those rooms have a way of shifting perspective quietly at first, then all at once.
And after a few conversations with long-time clients, I’ll be opening a limited number of commissions connected to this trip. Work shaped directly by place, by light, and by what I’m seeing up close.
Looking Ahead
This report will keep evolving each month. Some editions will be more personal. Some more observational. But it will stay grounded in what is actually unfolding in real time. The most compelling collections, and the most meaningful spaces, are not assembled quickly. They’re built over time, through intention and a willingness to engage more deeply.
Thank you for being here at the beginning of this.
With intention,
Kristen