Growing up in Switzerland, Constance Jaeggi’s journey from a suburban area of central Europe to the rural grasslands of Texas was guided by what she describes as an “unexplainable fascination” with horses. She moved to the U.S. to pursue a competitive riding career and attend university, eventually becoming a rancher and essentially revolving her entire life around the gentle giants.

“Throughout college, I was spending all my weekends and free time on horseback,” Jaeggi tells Colossal. Over time, she was drawn to exploring horse culture through visual means, picking up a camera and documenting the animals, people, and landscapes around her. “I was curious about the age-old human-horse relationship and how that impacts humans’ relationship with horses today,” she adds. “Photography was a way to lean into that curiosity and express myself differently.”

While attending rodeos and traveling throughout the western community, Jaeggi became acquainted with the custom of escaramuza. It’s the only female event of the Mexican national sport charrería, and the activity combines equestrian and livestock competitions like roping and working with cattle.

Escaramuza, which translates to “skirmish,” was inspired by the women soldiers, or soldaderas, of the Mexican Revolution in the early 20th century and contemporary narratives like “La Adelita.” Teams traditionally consist of 16 women, with eight competing at a time for a maximum of eight minutes. Carrying out elaborately choreographed dances in vibrant, traditional, handmade Mexican dresses, escaramuzas ride sidesaddle and are judged on their synchronicity, precision, garments, and elegance.

“When the Cowgirl Museum in Fort Worth, Texas, approached me about creating a photo exhibition on the escaramuza tradition, I knew very little about it other than the beauty of the dresses and elegant performance aspect of it,” Jaeggi says. “As I started researching, I was captivated by the history of the tradition, the gender dynamics within charrería, how those are evolving, and the stories of the contemporary riders I spoke to.”

The oral histories of the women she met form the foundation for Jaeggi’s ongoing series, Escaramuza, the Poetics of Home, which is on view now at the Poetry Foundation in Chicago. “I wasn’t initially sure how, but I knew I needed to bring their voices back into the work somehow,” the artist says.

Jaeggi chronicled teams in Illinois, Colorado, Texas, Washington, Idaho, Georgia, California, Oregon, Iowa, and Arizona, interviewing riders as she went. During the journey, she met two poets, ire’ne lara silva and Angelina Sáenz, whose poems accompany the images and take inspiration from the women’s stories.

“Poetry felt like a good way to really emphasize some of the strong themes that came out of my conversations with the riders, and Angelina and ire’ne were in a good position to understand and relate to the cultural background of these women,” Jaeggi says.

Escaramuza, the Poetics of Home centers portraits of Mexican-American women in full regalia, highlighting colorful, coordinated dresses and their iconic wide-brimmed sombreros. Jaeggi portrays empowered, strong, and resilient individuals who balance numerous responsibilities. “A lot of the women I met are full time students or have full time jobs—sometimes multiple jobs—and are raising children,” Jaeggi says.

The sport is also dangerous. Competitors perform intense and complicated maneuvers, criss-crossing one another at high speed, which riding side-saddle makes even more challenging because the person only has control of one side of the horse.

“There is a narrative around immigration and the role it plays in the development of the sport in the U.S.,” Jaeggi says, sharing that as she spoke to these women, learning about their work and lives, many shared experiences of “not feeling Mexican enough when traveling to Mexico but not feeling American enough at home either.” And as a gendered event governed by strict charrería rules, many experience frustration at the rigidity of the dress code they’re required to adhere to, which is not the case for male charros.

Exacaramuza, the Poetics of Home continues in Chicago through August 23. Find more on Jaeggi’s website and Instagram.

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In February 2020, curator and gallery director Kathy Huang met artist Dominique Fung—a month before the COVID-19 pandemic shut everything down. Their conversations, which continued throughout quarantine, served as an impetus for what would become Huang’s Wonder Women exhibitions at Jeffrey Deitch.

During their chats, Huang and Fung lamented “the uptick in violence against Asian American communities, particularly against women and the elderly,” Huang says in the introduction to her forthcoming book, Wonder Women: Art of the Asian Diaspora.

The two also found it difficult to pinpoint when the last major exhibition had been staged that thoughtfully presented Asian artists, and neither could think of an instance where women and nonbinary artists had been the focus. Both of Huang’s exhibitions and her new book are the fruit of that desire to highlight the remarkable spectrum of figurative work being produced within the Asian diasporic community today.

A response to racism against Asians exacerbated by the COVID-19 pandemic, Huang conceived of the shows that went on view in 2022 in New York and Los Angeles as a means to highlight the incredible, groundbreaking work made especially by women and nonbinary artists.

Forthcoming from Rizzoli, Wonder Women shares a similar title to a poem by Genny Lim, which follows experiences of Asian women through the lens of a narrator who observes their everyday routines and considers how their lives relate to hers.

Huang expands on this view in her approach to showcasing the work of forty artists, each represented through at least four pieces and a personal statement. These artists “subvert stereotypes and assert their identities in places where they have historically been marginalized,” Rizzoli says.

Artists like Sasha Gordon or Nadia Waheed explore identity through sometimes fantastical self-portraiture, while others highlight family, community, and colonial or patriarchal systems in the West. Some address Asian myths, legends, and visual culture, like Fung’s exploration of antique objects or Shyama Golden’s otherworldly scenes in which hybrid human-animals interact with nature or urban spaces.

Wonder Women will be released on May 20. Order your copy from the Colossal Shop.

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“We’re going to make stuff out of beads that is going to take people’s breath away,” says Ralph Ziman in the trailer for “The MiG-21 Project,” a military jet that he and a transcontinental team coated nose to tail in millions upon millions of glass beads.

For the past 12 years, the Los Angeles-based artist has examined the impacts of the Cold War Era and the global arms trade through a trilogy titled Weapons of Mass Production, motivated by his upbringing in Apartheid-era South Africa. More than half a decade in the making, “The MiG-21 Project” completes the series.

The first installment, “The AK-47 Project,” reimagined the aesthetic of one of the world’s most ubiquitous wartime weapons, the Avtomat Kalashnikova 1947, by sculpting dozens of the guns and coating them in colorful glass beads. The second project revolved around the Casspir, a heavy-duty Mine-Resistant Ambush Protected Vehicle (MRAPV) introduced in the 1970s, which he likewise ornamented in vibrant geometric patterns.

“The idea was to take these weapons of war and to repurpose them,” Ziman says, flipping the narrative about icons of violence and transforming them instead into symbols of resilience, collaboration, and collectivity. Vehicles and firearms morph into a theater of hope and strength in the face of a terrible 20th-century legacy.

Apartheid, which in Afrikaans means “separateness,” is the name assigned by the minority white-ruled Nationalist Party of South Africa to a harsh system of racial segregation that began in 1948. The period lasted until 1991 and was closely linked within the context of international relations to the Cold War as tensions erupted between the U.S. and the former U.S.S.R. Spurred by the deterioration of the two countries’ WWII alliance and fears about the spread of Communism into the West, the war began in 1947 and also ended in 1991 when the U.S.S.R. was dissolved.

During this time, the Russians produced a fighter jet called the Mikoyan-Gurevich MiG-21. The plane is “the most-produced supersonic fighter aircraft of all time,” Ziman says. “The Russians built 12,500 MiG-21s, and they’re still in use today—just like the Casspir and just like the AK-47s. But it’s one thing to say, hey, I want to bead a MiG, and then the next thing, you’ve got a 48-foot MiG sitting in your studio.”

“The MiG-21 Project” combines photography and costume design with historical research and time-honored Indigenous craft. The project encompasses not only the jet but a series of cinematic photographs and elaborate Afrofuturist regalia inspired by military flight suits, African tribal textiles, and space travel.

Ziman’s team comprises numerous skilled artisans from Zimbabwe and Indigenous Ndebele women from South Africa’s Mpumalanga Province, who are renowned for their beadwork. For the Ndebele, beadwork is a means of expressing cultural identity and rites of passage, taking on powerful political connotations in the 20th century as it became associated with pre-colonial African traditions and identity.

Tapping into the lessons of our not-so-distant past, Ziman addresses current conflicts like war and the global arms race, modern colonialism, systemic racism, and white supremacy through the lens of Apartheid. Funds raised throughout the process, part of the mission of the Weapons of Mass Production trilogy as a whole, are being donated to the people of Ukraine in support of the country’s ongoing conflict with Russia.

You’ll be able to see the “The MiG-21 Project” later this year in Seattle, where it will be on view from June 21 to January 26, 2026, at the Museum of Flight. Explore more on Ziman’s website.

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From aerial views of modern-day Venice to a 15th-century caravanserai in Kyrgyzstan, Christopher Wilton-Steer’s awe-inspiring photographs capture contemporary views of life along a series of 1,500-year-old trade routes. An extraordinary historical, cultural, and archaeological phenomenon, the Silk Road connected China in the East to Rome and the Mediterranean in the West.

Around 4,000 miles long in its entirety and comprising numerous linking routes—some of which still exist as highways today—the network was used to transport valuable silks from China westward while sending wool and precious metals east. Travelers also transmitted global news, religious beliefs, and disease—most famously The Black Death in the 14th century—along the storied route.

In The Silk Road: A Living History, forthcoming from Hemeria, Wilton-Steer traces the trade artery from Italy through the Balkans and into Turkey, wending through Iran, Turkmenistan, Uzbekistan, Tajikistan, Kyrgyzstan, Pakistan, and India, before continuing through the breadth of China.

Starting in London, the photographer traveled nearly 25,000 miles across Europe and Asia, detouring to visit nearby cities and cultural centers, mountains, deserts, remote communities, and spectacular architecture. He captures elaborate mosaic ceilings like those of the Tash Hauli Palace in Khiva, Uzbekistan, or the Shrine of Fatima Masumeh in Qom, Iran. And traces of medieval cities, like Ani in Turkey, sit timelessly in vast landscapes.

“When we fly somewhere, we arrive at the destination and most aspects of life of different,” Wilton-Steer says in a foreword. “Traveling overland, I wanted to experience the transitions between different cultures and gain a deeper understanding of what connects us.”

In our increasingly integrated world, trade is facilitated through elaborate pan-global shipping networks shaped by modern technologies. Yet the system is volatile, and the impacts of a global pandemic, accidents, or tariffs can usher in waves of disruption.

As China embarks on the world’s largest-ever infrastructure project through its Belt and Road Initiative, the legacy of the Silk Road is front-and-center as the endeavor aims to connect more than 60 percent of the global population.

Wilton-Steer is interested in the juxtapositions of contemporary life with ancient traditions, cultures, and historical narratives. Just as the Silk Road helped shape European and Asian civilizations hundreds of years ago, the route’s legacy underpins the region’s contemporary social, economic, and cultural spheres.

The Silk Road: A Living History will be released on May 20, and you can order your copy in Hemeria’s shop. Wilton-Steer is donating proceeds from the book to the Aga Khan Foundation, which addresses root causes of poverty and works to improve the quality of life in a number of countries along the Silk Road and further afield.

You might also enjoy Fatemeh Hosein Aghaei’s stunning photographs of historic Iranian mosques and palaces.

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Meaning “perfection” or “attainment,” the Sanskrit word siddhi describes a kind of powerful spiritual energy attained through meditation and mindfulness. To be a siddha is to be accomplished—to achieve a level of optimum spiritual wellbeing. For vanessa german (previously), making sculpture is a spiritual practice with the power to confront systemic social issues and conjure a sense of community.

In GUMBALL—there is absolutely no space between body and soul, german’s solo exhibition at Kasmin, “the siddhi of the soul,” for example, lists rose quartz, wood, plaster, and marble tile along with “…the way that clouds are creative, a loosing against old ways of power, a healing song sung just of breath and now-ness…”

german’s monumental new series of sculptural heads are conceived as “cosmic maps, proposing a cartography for a sacred place that embraces the full creative potential of all people,” says an exhibition statement. Drawing inspiration from ancient Mesoamerican Olmec heads, which were carved from basalt and measure, in some cases, more than 11 feet tall, the artist channels heft and gravitas.

The descriptions of her pieces are a far cry from standardized lists of raw materials; combining lyrical and autobiographical references, the accompanying texts complement each work’s inspiration, process, and inherent energy.

Beads, glass, ceramics, wood, recycling, astroturf, found objects, and more are complemented by myriad emotions and memories like “joy,” “languishing,” and “the way that black girls—in my youth—could speak their own language by chewing and popping gum.” She incorporates minerals and stones like quartz, onyx, and obsidian, transmitting their metaphysical healing properties.

The exhibition is organized into two complementary presentations, including the mixed-media heads and a series of fallen figures. The latter strike poses that reflect vogue dancers’ “death drops” in ballroom competitions, in which they fall to the floor as if mimicking death, then use one leg to bounce back up.

The fallen figures’ heads are replaced with porcelain racist caricatures, “reclaiming power from their white counterparts,” says a statement. Mirroring the voguing technique, each dancer emphatically rebounds from not only the illusion of death but from bigotry, systematic oppression, and violence toward the LGBTQ+ community and those who interrogate social norms.

GUMBALL—there is absolutely no space between body and soul continues through May 10 across two of Kasmin’s Chelsea locations in New York City. Explore more on german’s Instagram.

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On the site of the former Scott’s Grove Baptist Church, artist Tony M. Bingham has constructed a monumental work of contemplation and reflection. Two wood-paneled walls stand parallel in the serene clearing with stained glass windows, a Sylacauga marble floor, and a steel cutout depicting members who once worshiped on its grounds.

A tribute to local history, Bingham’s work is titled “The Praise House,” which takes its name from the vernacular structures people who were enslaved often built on plantations throughout the Southern U.S. as a space for prayer. “My way of addressing the power and the legacy is to just begin to look at some of the possible sources of opposition that the enslaved community could have participated in,” the artist says.

A new short documentary follows Bingham as he visits The Wallace Center for Arts and Reconciliation and installs the work. Located just outside of Birmingham in Harpersville, Alabama, the former plantation house is now a space for healing and reconciliation run by descendants of both the enslaved and enslavers.

Today, the center hosts a variety of art and culture programming to reflect on its history, and “The Praise House” is one such commission. After learning more about the enslaved communities, Bingham wanted to create a work that honored their legacy. “Using organic, repurposed, and cast-off materials, I make art that tells the story of my cast-off people,” he says, adding:

The house was being historically renovated, and planks of lumber were being replaced. I imagined that these old boards were the very surfaces enslaved people walked on or touched, and I sought to bring those materials back together in a way that could inspire reflection on the history of the enslaved people who once lived there.

Directed by Tyler Jones of 1504, the film is a poignant, enlightening glimpse into the lengthy process behind “The Praise House.” Bingham, who is a professor at Miles College in Birmingham, frequently invokes the historical realities of the location and returns to fundamental questions about the purpose of his work and art more broadly. “Who will speak for my people if not the artist?” he asks. “Who will help those outside of the art dialogue to understand the creative potential they possess?”

Watch “The Praise House” above, and find more from the artist on Instagram.

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In the Jordanian desert, Syrian families displaced by war huddle atop stacks of boxes like stalwart islands in a dry and unforgiving landscape. Photographer Nick Brandt captures children, siblings, and entire families who stand together and climb skyward like monuments or promontories—what the artist describes as “pedestals for those that in our society are typically unseen and unheard.”

The series marks the fourth chapter in an ongoing series called The Day May Break, which has taken Brandt around the world in search of visual stories illuminating the effects of the climate crisis.

Brandt began the series in 2020, reflecting on myriad experiences of “limbo,” both in the midst of the pandemic and relating to the tenuous ecological balance of our planet. In an essay accompanying Chapter One of The Day May Break, Brandt writes:

Nearly twenty years ago, I started photographing the wild animals of Africa as an elegy to a disappearing world. After some (too many) years seeing the escalating environmental destruction, I felt an urgent need to move away from that kind of work and address the destruction in a much more direct way.

Brandt began the series in Zimbabwe and Kenya, focusing the first chapter on portrayals of both people and animals that have been impacted by environmental degradation and destruction. Every person he documented was deeply affected by the changing climate. “Some were displaced by cyclones that destroyed their homes,” Brandt says. “For some, like Kuda in Zimbabwe, or Robert and Nyaguthii in Kenya, it was more tragic: both of them lost two young children, swept away by the floods.”

For Chapter Two, Brandt traveled to the Senda Verde Animal Sanctuary in Bolivia, where wildlife affected by trafficking and habitat destruction are cared for. And for Chapter Three, subtitled SINK/RISE, he took his camera into the ocean off the coast of Fiji, focusing on individuals whose livelihoods have been impacted by rising sea levels. Plunging decrepit furniture onto the sea floor, individuals and families interact with one another entirely underwater.

For the series’ newest addition, Chapter Four, subtitled The Echo of Our Voices, Brandt traveled to arid Jordan, one of the most water-scarce countries in the world. The dramatic black-and-white photos feature refugee families who fled the war in Syria. Perched on stacks of cubes, they transform into living monoliths, symbolic of resilience, surrounded by the rugged, sandy expanse.

The photographer says, “Living lives of continuous displacement largely due to climate change, they are forced to move their homes up to several times a year, moving to where there is available agricultural work—to wherever there has been sufficient rainfall to enable crops to grow.” Parents stand alongside their children; siblings embrace; and families are shown alternately gazing into the distance, turning to one another for comfort, or taking time to rest.

“This chapter is different from the first three chapters, both visually and emotionally: a show of connection and strength in the face of adversity; that when all else is lost, you still have each other,” Brandt says. Explore much more work on his website.

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In 1971, Faith Ringgold (1930-2024) received her first public art commission. New York City offered the late artist a $3,000 grant to paint a mural at the Women’s House of Detention on Rikers Island. After going inside and speaking with those incarcerated in the notorious prison, Ringgold decided to base the work around a request from one of the women about what she hoped the piece would depict: “I want to see a road leading out of here.”

In Ringgold’s characteristically bold palette, the resulting mural features more than a dozen figures, many of whom are employed in professions unavailable to women at the time. Vibrant and sliced into eight sections, “For the Women’s House” portrays doctors, bus drivers, basketball players, and the yet-to-be-realized vision of a woman as president. The large-scale work was a tribute to the deferred dreams of those who were locked up and a directive to reimagine the stereotypes put on incarcerated people.

According to ArtNet, the artist continued her relationship with the detained women and returned to the facility each month to provide “courses in subjects ranging from mask-making and theater to career counseling and drug addiction prevention.”

When Rikers Island transitioned to housing men in 1998, though, the Department of Corrections painted over the work, concealing it under a thick layer of white paint.

A new documentary directed by Catherine Gund chronicles Ringgold’s fight to regain control over the mural as it tells a broader story about the injustices of the U.S. justice system. Paint Me a Road Out of Here, released by Aubin Pictures, features conversations with Ringgold before her death last year, along with artist Mary Enoch Elizabeth Baxter, who has been commissioned to create a new work to replace “For the Women’s House.”

The film comes at a time when more artists who were formerly incarcerated are gaining attention as they point out the dehumanization and cruelty at the heart of the prison system. Jesse Krimes, for example, interrogates the material conditions of life inside as he incorporates soap bars, playing cards, newspapers, and bedsheets into his practice. And at a similarly infamous facility, artist Moath al-Alwi sculpts ships from cardboard, dental floss, and threads from his prayer cap while detained at Guantánamo Bay.

While the film shares the story of Ringgold’s nearly lost mural—which was relocated in 2022—it also speaks to the power of community and connection through art and making, particularly in places where despair and degradation are rampant. “Art gives us permission to imagine a world beyond what currently exists,” one interviewee in the film says.

Paint Me a Road Out of Here is currently screening at the Film Forum in New York. Keep an eye on Aubin Pictures’ website and Instagram for additional locations.

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Directed by Taliesin Black-Brown and narrated by Ramiro Vargas Chumpí Washikiat, “I Am the Nature” poetically plumbs the human interconnection with nature through the eyes of the Indigenous Achuar people. The short documentary honors the philosophy of a culture whose ancestral lands extend across the modern borders of Ecuador and Peru, deep in the Amazon rainforest. Today, Achuar still living in the rainforest continue to practice and preserve ancestral ways of life.

In the early 20th century, the government granted oil concessions that allowed industry to systematically move closer to the Achuar homeland. Further expansion and development in the region increased dramatically in the 1960s, initiating contact between the Achuar and the Western world.

Washikiat chronicles a vision he had as a boy, which foretold he would travel to the U.S. to learn English. In his journey, he observed incredible cultural and societal contrasts, such as individualism in place of collectivity, and yet his experiences away from the jungle instilled an ever deeper understanding that we are all children of the earth.

“I Am the Nature” introduces us to a way of life inextricably entwined with the surrounding environment, simultaneously reliant on and in harmony with nature. “We peacefully live in a simple way,” Washikiat says. “That’s what we would like to share to the world.”

The short film was an official selection in the 2024 DOC NYC documentary film festival and the 2024 Banff Center Mountain Film Festival, among others. See it on Vimeo.

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The creation of stained glass can be traced back to ancient Egypt and Rome, but we most often associate it with its popularity in Western Christianity, as in the biblical narratives adorning chapels and cathedrals. For Timo Fahler, this tradition forms the foundation of a multimedia practice influenced by Mesoamerican codice imagery, national symbols, and motifs found in older European churches.

Stained glass is a “storytelling medium in which I get to draw from everything I experience, everything I study, read, believe in, and even distrust,” Fahler tells Colossal. “We are floating in a unique era of questioning reality, the last gasp of the living generation before automation integrates itself via AI, ChatGPT, and digital interface.” He views his practice as depicting this era and even, in a way, immortalizing it.

Fahler first worked with lampworking glass while studying ceramics at the Kansas City Art Institute, which sparked an ongoing interest in the medium. Recently, he began incorporating it into what he calls “rebar drawings,” which form the foundation of much of his work. “I was curious about letting the unpredictability of light become a part of the ‘materials’ I work with,” the artist says.

Many of Fahler’s sculptures are framed or supported by heavy-duty metals like rusted steel, iron fences, and gates. Stained glass hovers a few inches from the wall, casting colorful shadows. For his most recent works, Fahler places barriers atop the glass to consider not only the viewer’s relationship to the image but also the implications of people being barred from freedoms and knowledge. “I draw from a lot of different sources—historical, mythological, and fantastical—all of which encompass my ‘heritage,'” the artist says.

In a piece titled after the poem “New Colossus” by Emma Lazarus, which is carved in bronze on the Statue of Liberty’s pedestal, Fahler uses a gate to frame a detail of Lady Liberty’s arm constructed of tiny glass squares soldered to the facets of a chain-link fence. Historically a potent symbol of welcome, amnesty, and inclusiveness, the statue in this context references how today, new immigrants’ access is more troubled and often blocked.

Serpents, dragons, eagles, and landscapes merge with realistic portraits and references to historical moments and national emblems, like Mexico’s crest featuring a golden eagle on a cactus with a snake in its talons. The image centers on the nation’s flag, representing the resilience, bravery, and spirit of the Mexican people. Echoing his representation of the Statue of Liberty, the icon is barricaded, merging with iron bars.

Fahler is currently working on a solo presentation with Sebastian Gladstone this autumn. He and his family just moved to Amsterdam, where he shares he’s beginning from a “zero-point/clean canvas” in a new studio, and he plans to explore ideas around the complexities of sovereignty, expatriation, and a quickly evolving global society.

“The world is changing so quickly that we cannot collectively understand, let alone keep up with it!” he says. “I’m excited to be working on all of that and look forward to the body of work that depicts it.”

Find more on Fahler’s website and Instagram.

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