We don't eat batteries. They take away the water; they take away life. This pronouncement, in Spanish, appears in a photograph that the artist Tomás Saraceno sent via WhatsApp last month from Salinas Grandes, a high-altitude salt flat in northern Argentina. There, in one of the world's largest lithium reserves, the artist is working alongside 11 Indigenous communities to build El Santuario del Agua (The Water Sanctuary), a monumental work about the global energy transition.
We were supposed to be Frieze's special guests. And we feel like we're being censored, racially profiled and discriminated against. Having worked with the fair for five years, she says she will not continue beyond this weekend.
In 2011, the Colombian government ordered the creation of a national museum "to achieve the strengthening of the collective memory" around the decades-long armed conflict. That same year, it passed the Victims and Land Restitution Law aimed at providing victims with reparations and justice. More than just a curated collection of objects or artworks, the museum, scheduled to be inaugurated in 2018, was conceived as an archive of the violent civil war.
Now, he celebrates his first major presentation in Latin America, in congruence with Mexico City Art Week 2026 and ZSONAMACO, showcasing on an ideal stage inside one of the city's most architecturally layered interiors. Titled The Resident, the site-responsive installation, created during a residency at the Diez Company house, transforms the historic showroom into an immersive tableau where more than 50 works negotiate the boundaries between collectible design, contemporary art, and spatial theater.
OSCAR MURILLO (b. 1986, La Paila, Colombia) has developed a multifaceted and challenging practice that spans painting, collaborative projects, video, sound and installation. Through each body of work, the artist probes ideas of collectivity and shared culture, demonstrating a commitment to the power of material presence alongside complex meditations on contemporary society. A focus on the social dimension that sits on the border between performance and events is also central to Murillo's practice.
Artist Ayelet Gal-On does not just paint; she builds, layering oil, acrylic and plaster on canvas. Gal-On's signature subjects for "Taken by the Wind, Swept by the Light," her upcoming solo exhibition at Gallery 9 in Los Altos, are white dresses that appear to hang on a line, defying the stillness of the canvas. "I love the process of playing with color," says the artist.
One of the great things about making art is discovering something that sprang from seemingly nowhere. In retrospect it looks logical but in the moment it's an epiphany and suddenly it's exciting to explore it. My studio is across the street from Creative Woodworking and they have a box where they put scrap wood for anyone who wants it and it's irresistible to me.
From figures with multiple legs and noodles for arms to frolicking trees, Paco Pomet summons the absurd. Known for his uncanny oil paintings rendered mostly in monochrome and enlivened by colorful details of overly stretchy limbs or celestial objects, a sense of nostalgia greets surreal scenarios. The artist often derives his imagery from vintage black-and-white photographs, adding an absurd dimension to history.
In her manifesto, Borderlands/La Frontera, Anzaldúa presents what she calls a new mestiza consciousness, which advocates for ambiguity and moves "toward a more whole perspective, one that includes rather than excludes." Groundbreaking when it was published in 1987, this theory pushed queer, feminist, and cultural scholars to consider how identity is both fluid and informed by several overlapping factors. It also helped to lay the groundwork for branches of study like ecofeminism,
Regina Silveira has spent the better part of three decades considering the relationship between media and meaning, particularly as it relates to Latin America. First presented in 1997, "To Be Continued..." features 100 black-and-white reproductions of photos, newspaper clippings, propaganda, advertisements, and more. Silveira nests each image into an oversized puzzle piece, which cuts off faces and scenes to leave fragments of pop culture icons, flora and fauna, and even the occasional mugshot spliced next to one another.
"The new venue has allowed us to develop the experience of the fair-it lends itself to being more of a destination," Brett W. Schultz, the co-founder and director of Material, tells The Art Newspaper. The fair features over 70 exhibitors this year, with an especially strong contingent of Mexico City galleries that, like Material, have been around for a little over a decade.
These paintings reveal the layers of history that undergird modern Los Angeles. Yaanga Lies Under the 101 imagines the city's earliest Tongva inhabitants as they made their home on the land that, in the modern day, runs beneath the Hollywood Freeway. Campos's process mimics this archaeological layering: each canvas begins with a screenprinted underlayer that is then painted over in acrylic, and then once again layered with screenprinted details.
Sand City sits just two miles from the Monterey Bay Aquarium, yet until this month, visitors couldn't spend the night in town. For decades, this half-square-mile town wedged between Costco and Highway 1 has been hiding in plain sight - a warehouse district turned open-air art gallery, where murals climb concrete walls and sculptors work in spaces that once stored industrial equipment.
The artists José Parlá and Claudia Hilda, his wife, live in a former fire station in Fort Greene surrounded by memories of Cuba, which Parlá's ­family fled in 1970 and where ­Hilda lived until recently. "There's a lot of magical realism here, a big mix of Cuban traditions and religion," says Parlá, pointing to an icon of la Caridad del Cobre, the island's patron saint, in the kitchen. "We cannot move her!"