Night Gallery presents YOU CAN HATE ME NOW, a solo exhibition by Los Angeles-based artist Daniel T. Gaitor-Lomack. The exhibition combines assemblage, printmaking, performance, and installation to examine questions of endurance, spirituality, and survival in contemporary American life. This is Gaitor-Lomack's second solo presentation with the gallery. Through work that holds ancestral memory and contemporary social critique in productive tension, Gaitor-Lomack's practice challenges established hierarchies and institutional frameworks. Drawing on Fred Moten's concept of "fugitive planning and Black study," his art functions as both communion and inquiry within a language of rebellion, faith, and perseverance. His installations incorporate unconventional materials such as ice pops, dodgeballs, toilet paper, stone, wood, and soil. Like the Arte Povera artists, Gaitor-Lomack finds significance in humble materials, creating work where spiritual concerns meet architectural form. Growing up in Neptune, New Jersey—a coastal town named for the Roman god of the sea—Gaitor-Lomack developed an early relationship with the Atlantic Ocean that continues to inform his sensibility. The water offered what he describes as an education in perception, teaching him to understand art as something in motion rather than static. The ocean's particular quality of being simultaneously vast and intimate remains central to his practice. The influence of the ocean carries into Los Angeles, where Gaitor-Lomack has lived and worked for over 12 years. The city's rhythms and contradictions filter into his recent body of work: fire truck sirens punctuate afternoon tea ceremonies, the scent of dried flowers mixes with urban exhaust, children play against the San Gabriel Mountains, and street vendors call out their wares. Meanwhile, ICE raids loom, and the hum of addiction drifts through it all. Displacement abuts resilience, transposing Los Angeles' complexities into compositions that insist on visibility and care. One such work is Only Way Up, 2025, a large-scale installation that repurposes a turn-of-the-century gold birdcage elevator salvaged from a historic hotel. Activated through movement during opening night, the piece represents what Gaitor-Lomack calls "conceptual performance assemblage"—an exploration of sculpture and endurance. Nearby, Triple Beam Dreams, 2025, transforms a child's bunk bed through layers of mesh and found materials, moving between registers of innocence and survival. Together, these works map the economic and spiritual networks that shape the artist's surrounding community. Also included in the exhibition are works from his ongoing series Dodge The System, 4EVER and Guardians of the Afro Fantasy. In Dodge The System, 4EVER, Gaitor-Lomack connects protest and printmaking as continuous forms of expression, engaging with scholar Kellie Jones's understanding of ritual as a mode of resistance. Guardians of the Afro Fantasy examines Black presence across centuries through found materials reimagined as carriers of memory and myth. Everyday ephemera takes on the weight of classical sculpture, invoking Greek and Roman iconography while asserting Black divinity and authority. Gaitor-Lomack's artistic formation reflects his movement between coasts. From New York’s legacies of conceptual art, hip-hop culture, and performance, he draws structure and lyricism. From Los Angeles, he inherits humor, material insight, and the poetics of endurance inspired by the spiritual work of West Coast artists such as Senga Nengudi, Noah Purifoy, and John Outterbridge. Between these bicoastal influences, Gaitor-Lomack has developed a visual language that operates in a realm marked by protest and prophecy. YOU CAN HATE ME NOW is a bridge between cultures, one that stretches across this unprecedentedly complicated moment in United States history. Image: Daniel T. Gaitor-Lomack, A Chair for A Powerful Curator, 2025, reclaimed wood chair, nails, burlap, and balloon, 60 x 160 x 36 in (152.4 x 406.4 x 91.4 cm) _____ Here’s just a few great paint slingers: Delacroix, Neel, Auerbach, Van Gogh, Grotjahn, Cecily, Hockney, Henry, Freud, Peyton, Ryman, Hals, Schutz, Schnabs, Lisa Y, Monet, Manet. And yeah, I’m gonna go there and toss in Woll. Starting in 2016, I lived with a Mt. Wilson painting of Andy’s because I was drawn to the seriousness of the play in the various yellows in the palette and the way the paint was pushed around with a quiet athleticism, an intuitive confidence. It’s that stroke, coupled with a deep understanding of color, that I’ve seen over and over in the paint slingers. It’s never the same way of course, authorship right, but always laid down with a knowing hand. Can be sharp, slashing, hard, can be fluid, lyrical, loose. And everything in between. He had a way to go then, but I saw the beginnings of something there, in the passages, percolating, stewing. It took a decade but what’s now here, before you, is a revelation. We all have a voice inside that doesn’t make a sound but we listen to, that wonderfully meddlesome root down there that will burrow toward an idea, maybe take hold and guide us to the precipice, point us toward the leap, that place of the new, if you want it. There is no easy way when going there. Change. Process. Shift. Yeah, the mountain stroke is still there: in the corners, in the clothes, behind them. And there’s a few Wilsons hanging. But the artist is mostly melting away from the mountain as a ground to the abstract by bringing in the figure, the music now single notes not just chords. And with this new album of quintessence on the walls, Andy has done something calm and wild: Paintings showing thought. Andy told me he doesn’t cry much but he said when these paintings leave the studio, he will tear up. I can see why; after so much intimacy with these souls, he’s brought his own tender energy and fallen in love with these people. He didn’t just create these paintings; he’s magically conjured a new kind of presence. You can sense them in their own personal abstraction. No, these are not simply paintings, they are spirits. Portraits have been painted forfuckingever. But look, everyone up there isn’t just a representation of a person, these depictions are living, breathing, present. Except for the self-portrait, no one is looking at us, these are people contained in consciousness and dreams. They are grounded, lovingly captured in warm oils forever with an uncanniness and curiosity that is extraordinary and wonderful. Profound because they are not just flesh made into paintings but paintings of people alive and rendered in deliberate intense strokes that guide us to feel they are here in their thoughts, reflections, inside. These are little miracles. And yes, in painting, this is what transcendence looks like. -Jeff Poe Night Gallery is pleased to present New Objectivity, an exhibition of new paintings by Andy Woll. This marks the artist's fourth solo presentation with the gallery.