Words by Andy Thomas In 1978, Lee Quiñones’ iconic mural Howard the Duck appeared on a handball court wall in the Lower East Side near where the 18-year-old had lived since arriving as a child from Ponce, Puerto Rico.The first freestanding urban mural to appear in New York was a symbolic moment for graffiti art’s emergence out of the underground, with walls replacing metal as the young artist’s urban canvas.Quiñones began spray-painting subway trains at 14 in 1974, creating ambitious murals in train yards on the Lower East Side. Two years later, Quiñones and the Fabulous Five crew had the audacious plan to paint an entire 10-car subway train with a mural that would make them folk art heroes across the five boroughs.These acts of artistic genius and ingenuity would prove as important to the evolution of hip-hop culture as DJ Kool Herc’s Back to School Jam at 1520 Sedgwick Ave in 1973, fellow Bronx schoolboy Grand Wizzard Theodore inventing scratching in 1975, and the arrival of “Rapper’s Delight” by the Sugarhill Gang in 1979.Another big moment in hip-hop was Charlie Ahearn’s Wild Style, which starred Quiñones as the semi-autobiographical Zoro. Ahearn became aware of Quiñones when he came across the Howard the Duck mural while filming his martial arts movie The Deadly Art of Survival on the Lower East Side with his Super 8 camera.In June 1980, Ahearn and his cohorts in the arts collective Colab transformed a three-storey building on 41st Street and Seventh Avenue into The Times Square Show, a DIY exhibition that, in the words of the Village Voice, was “the first radical art show of the ’80s”.It was also an important moment in the history of graffiti art, with Lee Quiñones and his Fabulous Five partner Fred Brathwaite (AKA Fab 5 Freddy) displaying works alongside around 100 other artists, including Kenny Scharf, Jean-Michel Basquiat, and Keith Haring. It was there that Ahearn met Brathwaite, who would introduce the filmmaker to Quiñones.Through his social commentary and poetry used in his expressionistic work with messages like “If we don't use our heads now we may lose our tails later” Quiñones had been speaking directly and profoundly to the marginalized from the streets where he was raised. But Quiñones had ambitions for his art and culture that went well beyond the Lower East Side.The December before The Times Square Show, an art collector named Claudio Bruni had invited Quiñones and Fab Five Freddy to exhibit at his Galleria La Medusa in Rome. It was the first step towards propelling Quiñones into the international art market and giving graffiti art the same attention and respect as other art movements - from pop art to abstractionism.By the mid-’80s, Quiñones was participating in groundbreaking group shows like Arte di Frontiera: New York Graffiti in Italy and Documenta 7 in Kassel, Germany. As the graffiti art he pioneered became recognized as a serious art movement in the years that followed, Quiñones continued to expand his artistic vision. Today, his works are displayed in the world’s leading museums - from MoMA in New York and Pérez Art Museum Miami to Museum Ludwig in Köln.In October 2025, he held his first solo exhibition in London for 40 years, Outside Is America, an intersection of old and new works that spanned his career - from iconic spray paint pieces like the self-titled Lee from 1979 to contemporary mixed material works such as Heart in a Hurricane from 2025, created from his Bushwick studio.With a lineage that reaches back to the mid ’70s, these works continue Quiñones'mission to communicate using a combination of striking visual symbols and written messages. Through empathy and resistance, his addressing of political and socio-economic issues in the age of Trump and the dark dystopian forces of ICE is needed more than ever.As Outside Is America drew to a close, we caught up with the artist to talk about the works displayed at Woodbury House and how they speak to contemporary America.“Art arrives at the time it deserves”, says Lee Quiñones. “I’ve always been at the forefront of something while also realizing I’m just following a lead of something bigger than myself. I think every artist has a responsibility to be committed to what they do in their time. Art does percolate under the surface until it comes up with something to say at a particular point in time. Creating art is in itself a political act. In some cases, a rebellious act; in most cases, an urgent act.“Titles have always been important to my work and they often speak to me before the work becomes a tangible thing. I want the work to correspond to the title and vice versa.  With this show, I wanted to talk to people outside of my country as an American with what we are going through today. This is nothing new, though. We’ve always lived in the abyss of the hypocrisy of humankind. But I’m a firm believer that the forces of good can be more powerful than the forces of evil.”HEART IN A HURRICANE“I had found this old vintage flag in the Brooklyn Navy Yard back in the mid-’90s that had been sewn together, not printed. This was a beautiful piece - it was more than a piece of fabric, it was the fabric of the country. But it started to get me thinking about all the atrocities over time in America. When you think about personal moments, you can go back to Mildred and Richard Loving, the interracial couple in the ’50s who married and went through hell just for being in love. Then, into today with Colin Kaepernick (of the 49ers). He’s not stepping on the flag or burning the flag; he is kneeling to bring a justifiable awareness of this country’s issues with its dirty dishes. Now I’m Puerto Rican, and we have our very rightful gripes and rifts with our country for obvious reasons. So I’m always going to have a rebellious part of me. But in this piece, which is a self-portrait, I’m not rebelling or lashing out; it’s a very tender moment. I’m lying down with a rose in my hand to show a love of country. But you can’t love a country if you can’t question the country.”UNFOLDED“Ori Carino is an Italian American who, like me, grew up on the Lower East Side and was inspired by my art. But he was also a huge inspiration to me, another man from the Lower East Side with whom I shared concerns and pride. Here are two men of Puerto Rican and Italian descent. The main reference of these two things combined is West Side Story. As beautiful as that story is, it's also a tragic story of migration. The real genius behind that painting is Ori Carino - he said to me, ‘Lee, I’m making these paintings on these layers of synthetic silk.’ So I went down to his studio, and I was floored. He told me he wanted to do a collaborative piece about the layers and layers of immigration and the different conversations and arguments over the centuries. So I was like, ‘Wow, this is great karma for us coming together.’ It was a beautiful collaboration even before we pulled the trigger on the paint. And the results were amazing.”TABLET #9 “These writings taken from studio walls are what I call soundboards. I think of them as liquid daily diaries of my thoughts, my isms, my poetry, that come to me now and then. Sometimes I feel as dumb as a church mouse. I just can’t talk, spell, or remember anything. Then the next day, I wake up, and I just spill out all this poetry. Lots of it makes sense, and much of it doesn’t at that time. But maybe it will become something that I will work out later in another painting. These ideas can be playfully funny or darkly poetic. The idea is you don’t hit people over the head with things, but you get them to think through the usage of words. I heard Basquiat say once that he would cross out words so people would be attracted to them. It got people thinking, ‘Why did he cross that out? What did he write?’ And sometimes the lack of words is more powerful and gets people thinking, ‘What is that about?’”LEE“This was one of a batch of paintings that I created between 1979-80, trying to exorcise myself from the fringes of the subway art era. That time was so powerful and special for me. It saved my life even though I was always putting my life on the line. It saved me from the abyss of my neighbourhood. I had painted in the dark about dark times for years. But in that darkness, I painted in the brightest colours because I wanted to bring this banquet of flowers to people. Lee featured in the 1979 exhibition The Fabulous Five at Galleria La Medusa in Rome [the first European exhibition to showcase artists from the graffiti movement], organized by gallerist Claudio Bruni. When we write, something comes out through us.”HONEST GEORGE“Honest George is rooted in the fairy tale of Little Red Riding Hood. It’s one of a series of pieces I’m doing based on all these follies and tales we hear as children, and on how we structure our beliefs about them and relate them to the real world as it unravels. My moral compass is angry, so my work relates to the hypocrisy of the human experience. But today my work goes all over the place. There are times that I do go into a rhythm, but I only stay there as long as I need to. My art will never be repetitive or redundant. I never want to be put in a corner. As artists, we have to switch gears; otherwise, we are going to burn the clutch.”  

Words by Chris DanforthChicago’s Anthony Gallery is taking its distinctive curatorial vision across the Atlantic with the opening of a new space in Amsterdam. Founded by Isimeme “Easy” Otabor in 2019, Anthony Gallery is known for pairing buzzing and established artists, fostering cross-cultural dialogue, and reflecting Otabor’s personal perspective. Now, Amsterdam has become its second home. More than a gallery, the Amsterdam location aims to be a cultural hub, integrating music, design, and community engagement while connecting local and international artists. Otabor emphasizes that the gallery’s goal is to foster dialogue with Amsterdam’s creative ecosystem, not impose an outside voice. The launch features a collaborative exhibition by Tony Lewis, whose observational drawings capture human connection, paired with cocktails inspired by his work. Looking ahead to 2026, the gallery will host solo and group exhibitions blending local talent with global voices, creating a space that is both globally connected and locally rooted.  Below, Patta Magazine chats with two of the minds behind the project, Easy Otabor, and supporting the project from Amsterdam multidisciplinary agency Tree Filling Window, Erum Shah.How did the relationship form between Chicago and Amsterdam?Erum Shah: I’ve worked with Easy for years, including on Tom Sachs projects. Easy has been thinking about expanding Anthony Gallery to Europe, and Amsterdam felt natural. Both cities are local yet global, with strong communities and a commitment to craft. Amsterdam, like Chicago, brings together music, design, and art in a way that aligns with Anthony Gallery’s values.Easy Otabor: Amsterdam has long been a crossroads for art and ideas — a place where conversations can take root. There’s a growing energy here around contemporary art, and we wanted to be part of that momentum while also creating a bridge between European and American audiences. You’re launching with Tony Lewis, tell us how that lined up.Erum Shah: We wanted a celebratory launch before the program officially kicks off in 2026. Easy has a long-standing relationship with artist Tony Lewis, whose drawings capture hospitality and human connection. He sketches in bars, observing people and spaces, which reflects the spirit of the gallery. The launch exhibition felt like a natural way to bring Amsterdam together while connecting US and European perspectives. Tony also plans to create cocktails to pair with his drawings, creating an interactive and authentic experience.Easy Otabor: We’ve admired Tony’s practice for years. His ability to use language to address questions of identity and communication feels incredibly relevant right now. When the opportunity arose to collaborate on a new body of work, the timing felt right for it to anchor our opening. It sets the tone for the kind of dialogue we want the gallery to fosterWhen you select artists to work with, what do you keep in mind?Erum Shah: Easy pairs new voices with established ones, challenging what fine art can be. He prioritizes cultural crossover and, as a Chicago-born gallerist, includes many Black artists. His roster is distinctive because he creates dialogues between emerging and established artists, for example, pairing an emerging painter with someone like George Condo in a group show.Easy Otabor: We want to continue to keep working with great artists, but more importantly, great people.What role do you see the gallery playing in Amsterdam’s community?Erum Shah: The gallery’s responsibility is to add to the existing cultural ecosystem. We chose Amsterdam because its values - intersection of music, design, art, and local brand culture - align naturally with his vision. The goal is not to impose an international voice but to bring Amsterdam into conversation, pairing local voices with artists from Easy’s global network, including the US, Tokyo, and the African diaspora.Easy Otabor: We hope to contribute to the ecosystem and culture. That means engaging with artists, curators, and institutions already here, while bringing new voices into the mix. Our goal is to build a space that’s both globally connected and locally grounded—a place for exchange, experimentation, and discovery.What’s planned for 2026?Easy Otabor: We have an exciting slate of exhibitions that build on this year’s conversations, some returning collaborators and some new names we’re thrilled to introduce. Beyond the program itself, 2026 will be about deepening relationships: with artists, collectors, and the communities around both galleries. We’re focused on long-term growth, not just expansion.Are there other ways the gallery will engage with the community?Erum Shah: We want to redefine what a gallery can be. It will host talks and conversations across culture, curated exhibitions, and events that create community engagement. We’re exploring partnerships with local establishments and other sectors like hospitality and food, so the gallery feels integrated with Amsterdam’s culture. Opening nights and ongoing events should encourage dialogue, participation, and a deeper connection to the city.

Known for her artistic use of visuals across documentary, short films, feature films, installations, and beyond, filmmaker and director Garret Bradley uses her work to ask questions about everyday life, often revealing intimate answers in doing so. Sociopolitical in nature, Bradley’s oeuvre spans early works like America and her Oscar-nominated feature Time, and is often intrinsically tied to the Black experience, exploring and elevating those narratives into rich and multifaceted stories. Below, Bradley, who had a major exhibition at the Eye Filmmuseum in Amsterdam last summer called Revolutions, reflects on transparency, the weight of her visuals, and the responsibility of bringing Black life to the screen.In Time, and throughout your broader body of work, you render the political through intimacy, the social through the personal. How do you think about the ethical dimensions of that gesture?Whether it’s in resistance to, or in harmony with, even the most intimate choices we make are connected to the bigger picture. And anything that's made: a book, a movie, a choice, operates the same way. Transparency is an anchor point of anything ethical. Being transparent about what I know, and what I don't know…what my intentions are, my opinions even….Being clear includes people within a line of logic that isn't a secret, that can be agreed or disagreed with from an informed, even autonomous place, and I think that’s an integral part of making films about people and with people…And sometimes you know, when you’re working in a quieter space, that doesn't require anyone else, there is still an important dialogue happening. It’s like a mantra at this point that images are belief systems and that responsibility is one that has to be taken seriously. I’m not saying that anyone has to have clarity of what they're making. Or even a sense of purpose. You don't have to have a message or even be interested in one. Creating in an unknown space and moving through doubt are part of what makes making things so magical and deeply human. I think what I’m saying is that the purpose of anything you make and its meaning will be made for you eventually by anyone who encounters it. And anything that reaches the world, or even just as its maker, even if no one sees it, creates a ripple effect and influence that ranges in subtlety. I think about that a lot. It might even be the place that I’m always starting from, the ethical dimension. In a moment when images of suffering are so easily consumed, what does it mean to make work that insists on care, duration, and presence?I don't know if I believe that any images of suffering are easily consumed. It might appear that way, but our subconscious informs the way we feel and act and see the world much more than we think.On one hand, the conscious act of taking my time is out of my control. It’s just the way it is, what the work and the process demands. And there’s so much being made on a regular basis, the world doesn't need me or any of us to output at the same rate.  I like thinking about each of those words, though, and figuring out what each of them really means. To care, to have presence, to be in conscious communion with time. It describes filmmaking perfectly. Why press record if you don't care? Presence is evoked by that very act, and so is time. Your films, from America to Time, blur the distinctions between the factual and the lyrical, between record and reverie. What does this merging offer you as a means of articulating Black life and temporality, and how does it complicate dominant cinematic languages of truth and representation?The factual and the lyrical are often the same. The beauty of that is in part what motivates and informs my work. I love your link between record and reverie.Propaganda refuses a multi-dimensional perspective and so to record with reverie requires a certain kind of caution. I'd like to think that anything I make about another person ends up being something they are happy with, of course, but also, and maybe more importantly, not something they could argue with. Meaning it’s true, and it’s real, and it’s human and therefore universal. And my reverie of them is integral to its making, but not to the extent that they have lost all dimension. That they are perfect. Every film requires its own ecosystem, but there is the consistent puzzle of how to shape a linear medium in such a way that we see, and know, and believe multiple sides of a single situation…or person…or idea…a question.And yes, that dimensionality has historically been withheld from anyone outside a heteronormative white male space. to the extent that even the smallest effort to illustrate multiplicity is, as you said, a complication of the dominant cinematic language of truth and representation. Mainstream filmmaking has historically flattened our experiences on the screen into a single plane of existence that’s either all work or all play.A body of work made over a lifetime is ideally liberated, meaning it’s sometimes impractical and exists as something that can be talked about and understood as more than a counter, or foil to something else….that’s another kind of flattening….A recentering of how we define dominant is also at play, and maybe what I’m most interested in. Introducing spaces, faces, and situations that are unfamiliar to one another. Like introducing giants to a nursery teacher.