In a 1966 review, Rosalind Krauss described how one of Donald Judd’s “progression” wall reliefs pulled the rug from under her. Its intervallic sequence of supporting members suggested a Renaissance colonnade, but its variable spacing negated the compositional and spatial logic that this model prepared her to expect. “The work itself exploits and at the same time confounds previous knowledge to project its own meaning,”[…..]

At the entrance to the black box of the Kitchen’s upstairs gallery, a long vitrine houses an illuminated culture of bacteria on agar jelly. The cracked slab teems with biological entities colored like bruises on sallow skin. Imprinted with capital letters, it reads: YOU CAN CALL ME F. Anicka Yi’s current solo show stages part breeding ground, part containment camp for “F”—the feminine, the woman[…..]