Nara Roesler New York presents On Blindness, a group exhibition curated by Mateus Nunes, that explores the phenomenon of blindness as a poetic catalyst. The exhibition’s concept arises from the intersection between literature and the biography of Jorge Luis Borges (1899–1986), the Argentine writer who lived the last three decades of his life in blindness. Featuring a wide range of artists from different generations and backgrounds working across various media—including painting, sculpture, drawing, photography, and video—the works explore the possibilities of artistic and poetic experience beyond vision: through obscure, excessive, metaphysical, tactile, and minimal sight.

New York

United States

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Getting lost at the Metropolitan Museum of Art is a kind of bliss&mdash;turning past Roman columns, you suddenly stumble upon the Temple of Dendur, the Nile&#39;s mist seemingly still condensed on the sandstone. Lingering for a long time before &quot;Riverside Scene&quot; in the Chinese gallery, one can almost hear the pine trees whispering in Fan Kuan&#39;s ink-wash landscape. Most wondrously, in the European armor gallery, a knight&#39;s visor still bears the marks of 1547, while a Giacometti sculpture in the adjacent modern gallery speaks to it with a similarly rugged posture. Sitting in the tiered lobby at closing time, listening to an impromptu piano performance, twilight streaming through the glass dome onto Rodin&#39;s &quot;The Gates of Hell,&quot; you suddenly feel that the entire museum is like an ark carrying human civilization, with each exhibit an anchor point for its journey.

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Upon first seeing the original &quot;Starry Night&quot; on the fifth floor of MoMA, Van Gogh&#39;s swirling eddies were more turbulent than I had imagined; I could almost hear the paint roaring across the canvas. Passing through the installation art area, I was engulfed by Yayoi Kusama&#39;s Infinity Mirror Room&mdash;millions of my own reflections floated and sank in points of light, instantly disorienting me. In the contemporary art gallery, Duchamp&#39;s urinal remained playfully placed, next to which lay apple cores left by visitors. Most movingly, in the rest area, I saw an elderly man with white hair copying Mondrian; his trembling brushstrokes held the lingering warmth of the 20th century.

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Jogging along the long paths of Central Park, every step feels like stepping to the city&#39;s rhythm. A boy plays guitar by the Bethesda Fountain, the melody of &quot;Imagine&quot; flowing from the strings, blending wonderfully with the clatter of horse-drawn carriages. In front of the star-shaped mosaic at Strawberry Fields, someone always leaves behind a dew-kissed rose, the air filled with the scent of onion hot dogs and fresh grass. My favorite spot is the skating rink near Bow Bridge, watching beginners tumble and fall like snowballs, while the skyline silhouettes silently behind the treetops&mdash;in this steel jungle, there lies a heart-warming oasis.

Time:	Jun 12–Aug 9, 2025 (UTC-5) ENDED
Location:	Nara Roesler \| New York

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