Some books shimmer. Others sting. But the ones I return to often are the ones that hold space for beauty and difficulty, polish and grit. I pulled these four books off my shelf to imagine a conversation among Jack Pierson, Liza Lou, Dara Birnbaum, and Elizabeth Peyton—artists whose work is defined by intimacy, mythology, and personal truth. And all of whom I know, have shown, and admire!
Their books—Less and More, Liza Lou, Reaction, and Angel—feel like a conversation between what is and what could be.
Jack Pierson turns longing into material. His photography, his text pieces, his collage of pop culture and personal ache—it’s all about the emotion that lingers just beneath the surface; a meditation on intimacy, loss, beauty, and memory. His work reminds me that fragments can be whole, and that beauty isn’t about polish, but about honesty. Overall I think Jack’s work is about hope and that matters so much right now, and always!
Liza Lou brings labor into the light. Her beadwork is obsessive, devotional, celebratory, and collaborative. In her book, I see the domestic made monumental—the kitchen, the studio, the sacred space of repetition. Her work invites us to slow down and honor the time things take. It's about presence, attention, and the power of building something together one gesture at a time.
Dara Birnbaum’s Reaction is exactly that: sharp, intentional, and unafraid. She cracks open the surface of media, revealing how performance and power are structured—and then restructured—through repetition. There’s critique, but also curiosity. Her work doesn’t prescribe meaning, it activates it. I am so grateful I got to be in conversation with Dara on my podcast and the wisdom she shared keeps me company often.
Elizabeth Peyton’s Angel feels like a whisper. Her portraits are tender, romantic, and full of quiet power. Whether it’s a historical figure or someone she loves, her gaze makes them timeless. In her work, I’m reminded that intimacy can be an act of devotion, and that there’s strength in softness.
Together, these artists offer a different kind of clarity—not declarative, but open. They remind me that art doesn’t always give us answers. Sometimes it gives us possibility. And sometimes, the most powerful thing we can do is stay with the not-knowing.
