The title Friends & Lovers might seem to suggest an upbeat show foregrounding interpersonal relationships; however, this exhibition at 2413 Hyperion in Silverlake unfolded in a more ambivalent register. Good Naked—the nomadic curatorial project led by the Los Angeles-born, Brooklyn-based painter Jaqueline Cedar—brought together six artists who explore intimacy as an elusive, unstable phenomenon. Across paintings, drawings, and two sculptures, connections slipped in and out of view, as physical closeness fails to secure emotional bonds.
Upon entering the space, visitors were greeted by a ceramic hand proffering a neon flower. Trevor King’s aptly named Gift (2026) extended a warm welcome—possibly too warm a welcome—as the resin-coated flower drips like a melting popsicle onto the chunky, fisted hand, which seems almost to wring the color out of the bouquet. The form exudes a clumsy, well-meaning optimism that verges on excess, suggesting how intense yearning can teeter into saccharine, perhaps even overbearing territory.
Echoing this playful energy, Zach Seeger’s nearby watercolors channel the discordant rhythms of urban landscapes in which fleeting intimacies give way to overwhelming anonymity. In Crowd (2025), bodies fuse together, forming an abstract pattern in which figures are distinguished primarily by color. The density of the composition evokes claustrophobia as much as camaraderie. Similarly, West Fourth (2025)—an homage to the Lower Manhattan subway station—conveys the hustle and bustle of bodies with a bit more breathing room. With their loose, gestural style, the paintings conjure the constant motion of a city animated by collective force.
Rachel Borenstein operates from a more distanced register, setting forth cityscapes devoid of figures that maintain a sense of detachment. The matchbox-scale of the paintings—each only two by two-and-a-half inches—lends intimacy undercut by the vastness of the abstracted scenes, each a fragmented snippet of Los Angeles sprawl. These abstract vignettes, some daytime and others nighttime, line the east wall with nearly a foot of space between each work. Installed without any sense of sequential narrative, each composition offers a glimpse of a discrete vista from a distanced perspective, evoking a simultaneous sense of romance and alienation.
Los Angeles and its hazy skies also shape the work of Vani Aguilar, who utilizes colored pencils to craft detailed pastel-hued drawings in the style of artepaño, an homage to the Latinx culture of the city. In Unusual Weather (2026), two figures stand close together but appear psychologically distanced. Each gazes downward, arms crossed, potentially distracted by something in the distance or lost in his own thoughts. We’ll be back soon (2026) verges toward kitsch, reveling in a sort of unabashed sentimentality. The subject matter—a Precious Moments-esque figurine alongside a cuddling doe and fawn under an arch of roses—seems almost mawkish, contrasting the aloof dynamic of the double portrait.
The precision of these ultra-detailed drawings contrasts with the wholesale abandonment of figuration in Kate McQuillen’s neighboring abstraction. The artist draws on Greek mythology, reinterpreting the myth of Leda and the swan in which Nemesis flees Zeus. This reference is deliberately elusive in this atmospherically charged painting, informing the artist’s process more than the finished product. Perhaps such elusiveness is the point, however, as McQuillen embraces what most printers would consider errors in reproduction, such as the “kiss marks” of a squeegee. This sweeping texture evokes her intensely gestural painting process, a practice charged with a certain intimacy. Here, infidelity to the source material becomes allegorical: desire itself is rendered as something misaligned and unstable, shaped by slippage.
The inclusion of only two sculptures effectively enacts interplay between the forms. Jacob Yanes’s Prone Cart (2025), which depicts a lone figure lying “prone” atop an oxen cart, might be seen as a sort of counterpart to the exuberance of King’s welcoming gesture. The placement of this hammered copper form, which hangs alone in the middle of the gallery, heightens the isolation of the protagonist. In the context of this particular show, it’s tempting to project a narrative of abandonment on this sole monochrome work hovering in a state of suspension.
In fact, the ample space between works throughout this presentation is notable. While the physical distance enacted through the installation seems to contradict the show’s title, it ultimately reinforces the exhibition’s underlying proposition that connection is neither assumed nor automatic, but rather negotiated in real time, perhaps at a distance. Throughout the show, interpersonal relationships repeatedly appear strained, asymmetrical, and just out of reach. Physical proximity does not guarantee connection, as in the work of Seeger and Aguilar. Undercurrents of longing simultaneously emerge, particularly in the work of King and McQuillen. In this sense, the title serves less as a description than an ideal.
Friends & Lovers was on view at 2413 Hyperion from March 1 through April 5, 2026.
