Exhibitions —

Opening Reception Saturday, March 14 from 2 to 5 PM

april april is pleased to present Horizon Synonym, a group exhibition with Peggy Ahwesh, Mo Costello, Renée Green, Margaret Honda, and Lai Yu Tong.

Horizons are blanks. Synonyms reflect their sources. Horizon Synonym pictures the world as an infinite, essential circuit. The works gathered here insist on memory as generative and betweenness as sacred. How the suspension of death is held in time’s uneasy matrix. How pictures profess an eternal function.

Two large, archival boxes lay open in the gallery’s flanking bay windows. In each, colored polyester gels are loosely stacked, bearing evidence of Margaret Honda’s prior use, and are here held down by a single film canister. Both titled Retired Work, one from 2016-2017 and the other 2021-2023, the boxes hold Honda’s extant material from past presentations of Film, a recurring body of work wherein she sequences Rosco and Lee lighting gels across windows such that, with sunlight and a viewer’s movement, a cinema unfolds.

Words and color reconstitute each other in a couplet of silkscreens from Renée Green’s series Space Poem #2 (Laura’s Words) (2020). Text and image vis a vis border, field, and ground. Green refigures fragments of Laura Riding Jackson’s 1938 poem There is No Land Yet with two lines of verse: Lonely and absolute salvation – / Boasting of constancy. The source text from which these prints emerge contends with the broken promise of language. Mysterious distances between speech and feeling are bridged chromatically; the effect of words designed recenters the text within the body.

Peggy Ahwesh’s the (We) Fallen (2026) debuts as a three-channel stack of CRTs, each channel echoing out of sync the same animated loop. Everyday figures in various American retail environments—purchasing cellophane wrapped strawberries, semi-automatic weapons, liquor, watches—become subject to hostile interaction and shooting scenarios. Deluging color blocks and images of the world orbiting commerce punctuate longer narrative cycles of people browsing. Symbols of both surveillance and freedom flicker amidst a din of terror.

Mo Costello’s gelatin silver print Untitled (100 Broad) (2025) documents an informal memorial outside of Murmur, a now closed artist-run space in South Downtown Atlanta. Candles, a book, Ciroc, and a plush heart reading ‘Love’ rest at the foot of a large tree that, in the years since this picture was taken, has grown over. For Costello, provisional forms of memorial, mourning, and gathering persist outside of the perceived legibility of regulation and development.

On the gallery floor, nineteen blocks of pine compose a dog on its side. In the dining room, works on paper render three other dogs, faint in their shadows. Lai Yu Tong observed stray dogs around his neighborhood in Singapore over the past year, riding his bike through their laneway environments at dusk, and cycling away when chased. Mutual fear led to curiosity, and curiosity to revelation: first in photographs and memory, and then in drawing, both of the dogs and of the night they inhabit.