JULIE CURTISS

Curtiss’s stylized figures are positioned so their faces remain obscured, while the paintings’ cropped compositions of isolated body parts construct an overarching narrative of humanistic observation and sly humor. Set in a metropolitan fever dream of intimate apartment interiors, laundromats, bodegas, and a fortune teller’s window, this body of work examines life in New York City, reflecting on identity, gender, and aging with a pervasive feeling of unreality. “Nothing feels real right now,” Curtiss observes. “It’s not even surreal, just the feeling that nothing can be trusted. We are bombarded with fake everything, AI everything, infiltrating our lives and our sense of reality.”

In Makeover (2026), two women on the street become symbols of luxury clad in fur coats, sunglasses, and postoperative compression face masks. Shown from behind, their identities are concealed by indications of age and class, injecting the scene with an air of mystery. Curtiss devotes careful attention to the patterns and textures of her subjects’ hair, coats, and accessories, mimicking the way women with means exhibit autonomy through grooming and self-care rituals.