I’ve been to many art shows in New York City—sometimes just for fun, to enjoy the vibrant scene with friends and soak up the atmosphere. Other times, I go to feel important, to be somewhere that matters, to be someone who matters. New York’s art scene has that effect on you, doesn’t it? It pulls you in, makes you feel like part of something grand, something essential. And even if you’re standing there pretending to admire a painting you don’t fully understand, there’s still that little voice in your head telling you that just by being there, you’re part of it. 

On Wednesday, I found myself at the glorious crossroads of these feelings, attending the highly anticipated launch of New York…NOW!, at 25 Allen Street gallery on the Lower East Side. 

On October 23rd through November 15th, the exhibition promises to be a visceral journey through the city's artistic heartbeat, featuring 18 artists across every conceivable medium. Curated by Saam Niami and Gabrielle Richardson, this show is more than a stop on the art gallery circuit—it's a living, breathing snapshot of the ever-evolving New York art world. 

The building was packed, sometimes too packed. My friend and I held hands, weaving our way through the crowd, moving room to room. People poured into the studio from all directions, filling each space with energy. Old friends reconnected, internet friends met face-to-face for the first time, and a few awkward strangers going on their  first date. Every corner held its own pulse of excitement.

In the midst of the chaos, there are real stories. Real narratives, right there on the walls. Each piece seemed to hold its own tale, whispered from canvas to viewer, whether you were ready to hear it or not. 

The exhibition, diverse and raw, offers a glimpse into the soul of a city that never stops moving, yet finds moments of stillness in its art. Some works were explosive with color, others soft and haunting. 

But every now and then, I stop and truly see the art around me. Isn’t that why we’re all here, after all? To be patrons of the arts? To be moved by something bigger than ourselves? In that moment, it’s not about being seen, but about seeing, really seeing. The brushstrokes, the emotions layered into the piece, the intent of the artist. It’s in these rare moments where the chaos quiets, and the art speaks. 

We often forget that in our designer shoes and our fast-paced city lives. I say "we" because I’m guilty of it too. Too busy watching the pretty faces pass by to notice the beauty on the walls. We’re swept up in the spectacle, the socializing, the scene. The clinking of glasses, the flicker of camera flashes, the effortless conversations about the “state of contemporary art” that float through the room. But the art... it’s always there, waiting. 

It was in one of these rare moments of pause that I found myself transfixed by an extraordinary piece. It was a celebration of Black faces, Black smiles, and Black joy. 

This is where I stumbled upon the work of Nuvany David. Her exhibit, Boyd, included a variety of photos of her family. Nuvany told me she grew up with photos of her family members all over her house. How she fell in love with documenting her family. Keeping a piece of them with her always. 

Her mother, standing proudly beside her. She talked with me about her father, who was also in art. He was a photo-journalist who had to put his art to the side when he was drafted in the war.  She told me of her daughter,  and the first time she picked up a camera, the spark in her eyes. Nuvany and her mother taught me a lot that night. 

The energy radiating from this exhibit within the collection was palpable. Black eyeliner, wolf cuts, keffiyehs, all blending into the vibrant tapestry of the evening. 

As I waited in line for the bathroom, I ran into Mikhaila Nodel-Kishner, who was holding a bouquet of flowers while showcasing their three-piece fiber art collection.

“My biggest inspiration in art-making is queer joy,” they said. “Anytime I saw lesbian representation, it always had a tragic ending. I just want to put a more positive spin on things and create a queer utopia.”

“I want to use vibrant colors and softness because I want to create something inviting,” they said.

They smiled, saying, “I had a few people talk to me about my work. This was my first gallery show in New York City since I was in high school. It was exciting to share my art, regardless of how people respond. Having it accessible for people to see in person is important. Fiber art can be hard to understand online, so it was nice to show off all the work I’ve been doing.”

“It was crazy. I saw a lot of people I recognized from the internet. The place was packed, and it was cool to know that so many people came to see my work. The vibe was great; it felt like a party.”

And like a party, it was. From the people on the rooftop chain-smoking their fifth cigarette, to the guy on the bench, catatonically high, who hadn’t moved in 20 minutes, to the guest downing their fifth drink at the open bar—pregaming another night out, perhaps.

We find ourselves in these spaces for all sorts of reasons. All surrounded by art, just happy to be in its company. Sometimes, it’s about the art. Sometimes, it’s about the people. And sometimes, it’s just about being there. Sharing space with creativity, hoping a little of it rubs off on you.