Unwoven Light

Soo Sunny Park’s Unwoven Light, a large structure of flowing metal and plexiglass, mesmerizes and transports its viewers into dreamy, shimmering realm. The installation consists of 37 parts, each one made from iridescent pieces of plexiglass and chain link fencing. Although chain fences typically appear very industrial, the fencing in Park’s piece has a lively, natural quality to it.

Park was inspired to explore the rigid yet porous quality of chain links after spotting a styrofoam cup stuck in a fence. The artist was also interested in how light can affect the appearance of a room. The sculpture, part of Park’s continuous exploration of light, is meant to capture light and make it visible in the form of brightly coloured reflections.

Unwoven Light is on display at the Rice University Art Gallery until August 30.

-Janine Truong

The floating mountains of  Onishi Yasuaki at Rice Gallery
In his installation, "Reverse Volume of RG” at Rice Gallery in Houston, Texas, Yasuaki Onishi uses the simplest materials: with plastic sheeting and glue, he creates a monumental work. Mountains seem to float in space.

The process he calls “the invisible casting" implies a sheet of plastic wrap on a cardboard structure which is then removed to leave its mark. This process is reversed sculpture in the heart of the work of Onishi and reflections that are focused on a vision of nature as a negative space, abandoned.

These plastic sheeting semi-translucent and misty, held by thin black glue flows, fueling a vision of a fragile nature, although it seems huge.

Soo Suny Park’s installation at the Rice Gallery in Houston, TX called "Unwoven Light". I wished I had this in my bedroom, it’d be my secret imaginarium tent. To see more, here’s the video I made these gifs of (that of course do not make it justice).

It features an interview of the artist.

You can find more info here:


Patricia Heal: Finding Peabrook

The Robin Rice Gallery presents the exhibition by Patricia Heal: Finding Peabrook.

In her ninth solo show at the Robin Rice Gallery, veteran artist Patricia Heal documents her visual narrative of their enchanted home in upstate New York. Hidden within untouched forests lies Peabrook, a babbling brook running through the property. The classic architecture of the house is offset by uniquely quirky interiors designed by the English-born Patricia and her husband, Anthony Cotsifas, which generate an otherworldly existence within the estate. “Peabrook is my Neverland,” Heal states, in reference to J.M. Barrie’s Peter Pan. “It is a fictional place often described as a metaphor for eternal childhood.” Heal hopes that, with just a visit to the gallery and a little imagination, you, too, can see Peabrook


JJ Brine Will Let You Into His Back Room, But the Price Is Your Soul

JJ Brine, founder of the Lower East Side’s only Satanic art gallery, is not your typical interview subject. Straightforward questions simply do not work on the curator and artist-in-residence of “the Official Art Gallery of SATAN.” There were several times during our talk when Brine stared back at me — amidst imagery of Charles Manson and Baphomet the Sabbatic Goat — as if to say, “What the hell are you talking about?”

“Where are you from originally?”

“Well, that I don’t remember,” JJ responded.

In fact, the word “typical” cannot be applied to JJ in any sense of the word. For one, he’s not a typical artiste. He denies his own agency, to a degree, in whatever is taking place at Vector. “Satan is in complete control of it,” he explained. A shiny placard bearing the letter C fell to the floor. “See, these things are not being restrained, they rearrange themselves,” JJ pointed out. “It’s like suggestions. I appreciate it. It’s a form of communication that is quite fulfilling.”

This is all despite the fact the gallery is filled entirely with his own work at the moment. And JJ describes the space as intrinsically connected to his mind: “I’ve put my brain on display, or my brain has put itself on display.”

If you haven’t already guessed that something’s up, JJ is a Satanist, or more accurately, a Vectorian. “Well, I’m kind of leading myself from another time, so I’m kind of like a puppet,” he explained. “I’m responding as I’m being triggered, and I’m responding as I’m receiving my lines.”

But JJ isn’t your cookie-cutter Satanist. For one, he does not prescribe to the tenants of the Satanic Temple, an organization that is mainly defined by its atheism and adeptness at trollingreligious fanatics. “This is its own faith, and it certainly doesn’t enshrine atheism,” JJ said. “I believe in all things. The devil is the lord and the lord is the devil. So I don’t know what people mean when they talk about a difference between something that’s literal or real, but certainly I would not say that this or that thing is not real.”

In fact, Brine, who also answers to President of the Satanic State of Vector, says he is the founder of Vectorism, a new religion. “But you could also say that I’m an instrument of the devil,” he clarified.

JJ invited me to have a look around his gallery in anticipation of next week’s official opening night of Vector Gallery (2.0). Vector has relocated to a space on East Broadway in the Lower East Side after having its lease swept out from under it at its Clinton Street location.

On Wednesday evening I walked into the storefront. I looked around and JJ was nowhere to be found. The lights were on, though a big dim. At first I was a little disoriented, as red, blue, and fluorescent lights flickered around the rectangular front room, bouncing off the reflective foil-covered walls, the mirrors, and the cacophony of objects covered in silver spray paint. The place seemed enormous as first.

“Hello?” I made my way to the back room. The door was partially ajar. I looked in and called out for JJ. No answer. I was about to creep in further when I spun around to find JJ coming through the front door. He wore a black t-shirt with geometrical designs, black pants and platform shoes, his hair was a powdery bluish-green, adorned with a crown made of delicate branches spotted with blossoms.

The front section of Vector is flanked with portraits of Charles Manson, his forehead swastika swapped out for the vector symbol (JJ has dubbed him the “Supreme Leader” of the sovereign state of Vector), fake flowers and grass patches, and one notable portrait of a four-headed hellhoundish Condoleezza Rice– “embodying the intelligence that animates all life,” JJ explained.

In many ways, Vector is not simply a gallery. JJ and the 15 or so other “ministers” he says are involved in the effort understand it as a “sovereign nation,” complete with its own time zone, its own culture, mythology, symbology, religion, placement on the evolutionary spectrum (post-human), and even its own enemies. Back in 2013, when Vector was first founded, it declared it was seceding from the United States to wage a “psychic war” against the nation, and announced it was advancing to the year 2020 (it is now the year 2021).

JJ said that weapons and violence are not tools in waging this war, rather it’s more about ideas. “If in terms of what you’re killing is an established thought with a new thought, then how does one fight an ideology with guns?” he wondered aloud.

Suddenly I realized just how easily I’d adjusted to speaking with JJ on his own terms. I had stopped even asking “normal” questions. But I had grown severely curious, how does JJ communicate with others? How does he move through this city?

“Do you, as a sovereign state, find it productive to engage with the outside world? Do you still have relations?”

“Diplomatic ones,” he replied.

I wondered if JJ had ever experienced any opposition from the outside world, maybe even harassment. After all, Vector is “always open,” JJ said. Plenty of visitors have stopped by uninvited, unannounced. “People are drawn here.”

Generally, JJ said, hate was not a popular reaction. However there is one exception. JJ told me a story of how “an entire congregation” had gathered outside once with signs that said “We Love Jesus, We Hate this Gallery.” Though unfortunately the details are hazy.

Vector Gallery photographs well, but speaking with JJ is essential to the full experience. The setting only acquires complexity when the master is present. For instance, that door to the backroom seemed totally inconsequential until he explained it.

“You can create as many versions of yourself as you need, it can be manufactured,” JJ told me. This might sound familiar, and in a way JJ does ascribe to some aspects of that Warholian, seamless-fusion-between-art-and-life shtick, but there’s something a bit different going on here. JJ didn’t like to talk about himself, at least in the first-person singular sense of the word, unless pushed to do so. But if visitors allow themselves to be immersed in the Vector Gallery (i.e. the Vectorian) experience (as what seems to be the point of an outsider stopping by such a place anyway) and concede to JJ’s claims that he is nothing more than a conduit of the devil, then JJ himself matters little.

“Specificity is such a vice,” JJ explained. “It’s when you lose focus, really, when you zoom in. Unless you zoom in so far that you can’t see any of the details because the details are the big picture.”

To JJ, there isn’t even a graspable expanse of time that existed before Vector Gallery:

“What was happening before the gallery existed?” I asked.

“Before Christ?”


“It’s the Anti-Christ, and the Anti-Christ is Jesus Christ. I don’t even know, I’m not even sure this is the same entity. It would be like remarking on someone else’s life. I was doing whatever I was doing, I’m pretty sure it must have led me to this place. I must have been collaborating with myself in various dimensions. Everything aspires to breathe, so maybe I gave it a respirator.”

Vector will open its doors for its innaugural event on Friday, August 1. JJ promises there will be music and rituals. “It’s always quite chaotic, and sublime, and diabolical,” he said. Though JJ says most of his time will be spent in the back room: “And as you can see, the cost of entering [it] is your soul. Anyone who goes back there has forfeited their immortal soul forever.”





Soo Sunny Park’s “Unwoven Light:” an organically constructed chain link sculpture with iridescent plexi-glass squares fastened to select spaces. Scintillating. Captivating. A jewel that’s been cracked open. A crustacean that has shed its shimmering shell in the sun. Whatever images it conjures up, I’d love to take a trip to see it at the Rice Gallery in Houston, Texas. 


The abstract installation, Unwoven Light, by artist Sunny Soo Park at Rice Gallery at Rice University in Houston, Texas is so magically beautiful it may bring a tear to your eye.

According to Design Milk, “the suspended piece is made up of 37 individual units composed of chain link fencing that is arranged into a sculptural form that’s all about light.” Watch the video where the artist breaks down exactly how long it takes her to make each unit. Labor-intensive is an understatement. 

Each time I watch the video—and it’s happened more than once—I smile. I smile at the beauty of the installation on its own as well as the patience that the artist possesses in order to create such beauty.


Cultivating Culture

Thinking and writing about culture around the world


Arts Spotlight: JJ Brine and VECTOR Gallery

in InterviewsNews & Trending

VECTOR Gallery occupies just a small slice of New York City’s Lower East Side, but as a Posthuman Art experience and the “Official Gallery of Satan,” you can imagine that its presence is becoming quite prolific. Curated and run by artist and Crown Prince of Hell JJ Brine,VECTOR is a conceptual art gallery that exists in its own time zone, has its own government, and thrives as a living religious text of sorts.

JJ Brine answered some of our questions about Posthuman Art, Vectorian culture, and what you might expect if you walked unassumingly into VECTOR Gallery. Here’s what he had to say:

Cultivating Culture: Can you elaborate on the genre of “Posthuman Art?” How would you describe it to someone who is unfamiliar with the term?

JJ Brine:  In the context of VECTOR, PostHumanity refers to Beings who have willed themselves into a PostHuman state.  I no longer consider myself human. In fact, I want to nullify all such identifications and compel the seven odd billion humans on the planet to shed their Shay skins, allowing for the resurrection of The Devil and The Lord within their containers. Then we will be ready to return to ALAN, the absolute All.

Does VECTOR welcome anyone to visit, even if they don’t personally practice Satanic worship?

Sure. But who knows what someone will go on to practice, having visited VECTOR. It changes people; it rewires them.

Your glossary of Vectorian termsis fascinating. The term “herstory” has ties to modern feminism, challenging the notion of “history” being an account of things that have happened as controlled by and with a focus on male experiences. Does the Vectorian definition of “herstory” correlate to this one at all? How is “herstory” applied in the Vector Gallery?

Who do we trust to “go back” and independently verify or veto the occurrence of a given event?  So we are living in PostHistory. And after all, “they” say that revisionist history will be the harbinger of world’s end. We are more concerned with nevents and nontology — impossible events that will never occur, and the study of non-realities.

What kinds of events are held at Vector Gallery? 

The events are a means of identifying and convening the key players of PostHumanity for the development of our Vectorian Society. Our next Mass will take place at the end of this month we call March. For the first hour we are imposing a strict ban on verbal communication, interacting only through motion and thought.  Sermons will follow, delivered by myself and a number of the ministers.

VECTOR Gallery exists in the year 2018 – why is this?

VECTOR Gallery exists in 2018 because it’s the perfect place for me to stand as I sculpt the present. Whereas others have been content to influence the NOW by negotiating the terms of the THEN or the WHEN, quarreling over the inaccessible qualities of histories and herstories, we’ve linked up to our future selves. “I am what I am, and I am what I will become.”  Unlike the record of the past, which remains incomplete, the Neostory is unabridged. In 2018, New York City will look like VECTOR Gallery. You might say that We are in a frenzy, rushing around to make things look and feel worthy of being spared. Either way, Our Will shall be done. If only We could lose, We wouldn’t have to win! Again, and again, and again.

Your Charles Manson concept band, The LaBiancas, represents one kind of art medium that you work in. Would you care to describe any of your other personal projects?  

Well, VECTOR represents an absolute integration, or maybe subjugation, of all of my personal projects under One Will. VECTOR is also, as you know, its own sovereign country — The Satanic State of VECTOR — with its own Vectorian government, society, and religion.

Some have compared you and VECTOR Gallery to Andy Warhol and his Factory. What do you think about this comparison? Have you drawn any inspiration from the Warhol Factory?

I once had a dream that Condoleezza Rice had staged a military coup, deposing the rest of her administration.  She had The White House razed with a bulldozer and put a plexiglass pyramid in its place, and reprinted all US currency with her face on every coin and bill.  In the epicenter of her pyramid there was a black cuboid structure, much like Our Kaaba in Mecca, and access was prohibited to all others save for The Empress Herself. Inside of it there was a glowing apparatus linked up to Andy Warhol’s mechanized nervous system, with buttons corresponding to each neural network, and these were in turn linked to the programming functions of reality. I hope this answers your question!

Are there any anecdotal events from your childhood that might have presaged the development of your thematic and conceptual interests?

When I was around seven or eight years old, I decided that I was going to live in a forest I had seen in passage over an interstate. I slipped out of my house and walked for about two miles until I reached the forest. There was a shrouded figure waiting to escort me to the chosen place of The Appointment. It was a coronation ceremony of sorts. I wasn’t frightened because I somehow sensed that I was being drawn there for this purpose, which had been looming before me since my first moments of conscious thought. I walked deep into the woods with this figure, which moved like a landform made of mist, and was received in a clearing by an audience of admiring new “friends” and “supporters” who were much enthused by this development.

Is there anything else you’d like to add about VECTOR Gallery, or your work?   

Of course.

For more information about the burgeoning phenomenon that is VECTOR Gallery, visit its official website. 

All images used with permission from  VECTOR Gallery.