Kind Of / Sort Of
Sara Cwynar, Bramwell Enan, Brubey Hu, Ginette Legaré, Micah Lexier, Maximilian Suillerot Wilke
July 11 – August 22, 2026
Opening Saturday, July 11, 2-5PM
This index of paintings, images, sculptures, and arrangements of found ephemera included in Kind Of / Sort Of consider fiction as a peculiar resemblance of the truth. Sourcing memories and objects from daily life, they reorient the quotidian logic of the material world towards expressive, new directions. If red strings of fate lead us directly through the physical world toward one another, this exhibition proposes that the fibres themselves are sprawling, technicolour, multiplicitous, yet entangled: Inviting artists to playfully sort and re-arrange the familiar with wonder, introspection, curiosity, and pleasure.
Salvaging bits of used ephemera and forgotten items, Maximilian Suillerot Wilke reascribes value onto overlooked foil, paper, and cardboard packaging swatches and discarded Tae Kwon Do belts. Sorting them into vibrant arrangements housed in acrylic cases and meticulously tied along a metal rod, the intricate display of these materials circumvent the ambivalence latent in value systems like consumerism and sports achievements.
Brubey Hu’s personal approach to illustrative painting obfuscates, distills, and synthesizes the material tether of physical settings and the psychic ecosystem of memory. Often evoking elements of domestic spaces, Hu’s paintings bridge geographic distance, using meticulously painted yet expressive cursive lines. They gesture toward the sensations and emotions which transcend the limiting framework of language systems.
Building on the prominence of found ephemera in this exhibition, Hu is also exhibiting a trio of preserved pieces of masking tape used throughout her creative process; brought to light as a moment of happenstance beauty otherwise mistaken for debris.
If you take a closer look at Sara Cwynar’s Pictures of Pens II, you’ll notice a pencil or pin hidden (at scale) among the cascading pixels that encompass a layering of printed images. Cwynar engages a cyclical process of photographing an object, reproducing it, photographing the reproduction, and repeating the cycle again and again. The result is a sleek yet slightly disorienting image that refracts the truth of an object; sensationalizing a cultural item as advertisements typically do.
Pipes, brushes, chair legs, rubber bands and other common materials: The sum of their individual parts demonstrates the alchemic qualities of Ginette Legaré’s hand. Embracing the speculative potential latent in unassuming items, Legaré warps the functionality of objects to peculiar effect: Shift your perspective around the bistro chairs that constitute Parallax and watch it shift into itself. Observe the recovered metal of Fittings contemplate what it could be. A window? The specter of a nearby artwork? Something else entirely?
Centered directly in the middle of the gallery is a vitrine installation of half fabricated and half collected materials sourced from the studio of Micah Lexier. 26 items for 26 letters of the alphabet. Taking a museological approach to categorization, Lexier’s playful index of things (from preserved pieces of cardboard to paper pads, to stickers) demonstrate a succinct selection of materials from the artists archive; a welcome reprieve to the exhibition’s enthusiastically colourful tendencies, and a peek into the inner world of one of the most meticulous collectors I’ve ever had the pleasure of meeting.
Working between architecture and craft, Bramwell Enan aligns found and mass-produced materials like stone, latex, cork, plastic, iron with processes like painting and sculptural assemblage. Installed on the walls and in a corner in the gallery, Enan’s contributions to the exhibition riff on the spatial conditions they reside in. Moments of freeflow and levity weave around a structured evocation of patterns, architecture, and infrastructure: Seeking a certain interplay of vibrant materials that embody their own kind of joyous, curious, and exuberant synergy.
– Exhibition text by Philip Leonard Ocampo