Nov 21, 2019–Jan 6, 2020

Bea Fremderman & Loreta Lamargese

Leona, Leone

Beneath the networked design of Robert Moses’ Prospect/Gowanus expressway are triangles—public pieces of land created by two streets decussating before merging onto highway systems. Triangle three-sixteen, located steps away from La Kaje, is one such plot. These pieces of land cannot easily fit into imaginaries of public spaces nor private ones. They are supplementary areas in urban design making use of every square inch of a city expanse. While they uncomfortably attempt to bare their nomination as parks, they are too small, too dusty, and in the most polluted intersections of the city.

Leona, Leone stages an infrastructural dedication to six invented characters in the form of a park bench. While defined by total isolation (loneliness), the exhibition speaks to a desire for infinite interconnectedness, mirroring familiar technocratic models. The bench, and its poetic dedication to this imagined public, is a proposal for a public object in a world on the brink of collapse, within a city whose infrastructure projects manage the anxieties of an unpredictable future. It stands as a concrete interruption in the shared material of what it means to be facing collective indeterminacy.

The collaboration between Fremderman and Lamargese realizes a place to process the potential to never fully relate to one another. It invites the social bargaining at play between people, insofar as our desire to live publicly is altered by the (un)certainties we face as private persons. The gaps that open as we shift between the individual and the collective are here filled by a new language and set of objects that the artists offer back to us, free of charge.

in conjunction with the exhibition
Leona, Leone
a six-character play
Loreta Lamargese

LEONA, LEONE a six-character play



In a field of fallen roses,
you acquire the decency
to circle the city
like a dog chasing herself

He traveled all day
bringing with him
everything he needed to return

To every mother
blessed with a nose
useful enough to become
a straw

Leona, find me here
with a thousand questions
for me and one
for God

What pleases us
returns us back like
hunger, an infinite
scathing field of desire

Leone, who
Was always his own


The city was too tall
for the unfortunate
in your interpretation
of violence

But, sir, what’s the issue
my ass spread across two
subway seats

Twisted on the ledge
hovering over
dusty do good for nothing

I and I and I what
else is there to say to

It would mean everything
And nothing to be full
Of you until

To leave the house
every day only to ensure
it can comfortably contain


This is a subway poem
to your private sense of public

We planted freesias,
hoping they would
enlist us to
tend to them

Listless day
to chew on your
husband’s big toe

An uncompromising
view of yourself, Leona,
in this capacity

Continuous gravel enters
the office building, moves us
to our desk

You’re really no better
than the smooth objects
you revere, you ornamental


Unable to pull apart sticky
headlines, flipped through the fingers
of your last lover

Slurred trapped shut mouth
hopes to present
you with this quarter’s result

Talk shit, if you must,
but I dare you to find a better city in which
to take a shit

I sat still here waiting
for the absence of strong smells
knowing it was a sign of fertility

Clueless clever but
clear, this is the incident best described
in poetry

Dear mayor, do you remember
the vestiges of our former commandments?
Do not touch what isn’t owed to you


Soberer than the last villain,
I would like to somberly
be remorseful, Robert

To have no name under
which to file your taxes

Blowing kisses to the drama
of the tourists who came here
to feel drama of a harsh life

Fruit of my loin, bearer of
my grunt

If there’s nothing left
but to listen
to your stomach declare itself

What useful life should be considered
when estimating the amortization of
intangible assets?


The cast was an estimate
for the distance we needed
from others to still feel connected

Having been nothing
but your favorite person’s
capitulation of sainthood

Mapping the routes to
the interminable project
that binds us

The edge ran wide,
an unorthodox boundary
from Leone

The distance was terrible
because it moved us

The edge held steady,
the orthodox lips of


The devil found ways
to get us to work
for less than $3.50 a day

Us that stands between us
was the possibility of
our escape

Nothing, sir, is lesser
than my body as
a series or errands

An arrangement of
self to complete
the task at hand

What was leftover
was hunger,

The demand of this
remnant is stronger
than you can imagine


The meaning of nothing
is this terse sense
of independence

It is a multilingual
declaration of an ardent

A complicated loss
of what it means to be a saint

A choral argument
to continue to walk
on the back of a stranger

A ceaseless silence at the hands of a
radical invention of ours

It begets and balloons
and subsists at the will
of something like


I am interested
in how we got

An expenditure
chasing the tail
of leisure

To stay attuned
to the limit between the

Is to practice
the performance of

Leona, how did you meet

Were you punctual in
your restlessness to love them?

The invisibility is actually
the material that binds


They said we had forever
to suspend innovation
for the sake of new endings

Could the freesias
bloom in this petrified

Am I really time
itself, a pathetic
insistence to go on?

Solitude too goes on
in binding us to
a decent sense of organization

A taste of the center
is maybe what dislodges
this argument

And yet virtually
nothing can stay there,


The roses fell,
a proposition to stay
attuned to a fluttering
sense of time

My will cannot break
with saints here to organize
my potential

A nose points
us in the direction in
which we move

Your own body
as a physical anchor
when you sit

But you are not whole
because you imagine
other ways of being

And you have
a whole mouth
to feed beneath your


Surely our being
together is the widening
we crave

Come here, then, and
tell me how full you felt
when we first met

Stay still and involve me
in this joy of imagining
being next to you

Shift in your seat and feel
the weight of the bench underneath
inch us slowly closer

For the time being, we slacken
and feel
alongside everything

Insofar as this is the
circular condition
of possibility


Bea Fremderman (b. 1988, Kishinev, Moldova) is a New York-based visual artist whose work combines parts and segments of a Capitalist reality as a reflection of daily life that has slipped away from society’s consciousness. Fremderman received her Bachelor of Fine Arts from the School of the Art Institute of Chicago in 2012. Her current research centers around feelings of global dread. Exhibition highlights include Barren Island at Prairie gallery in Chicago, Stranger Man at Atlanta Contemporary, How to Do Nothing with Nobody All Alone by Yourself at Shoot The Lobster in New York, and Concrete Spiritual at Moran Moran in Los Angeles.