Molly JF Caldwell at The New Gallery, Calgary
By Levin Ifko
Molly JF Caldwell, ⋆˚࿔ UwU 𝜗𝜚˚⋆, 2025, installation view (photo: Danny Luong)
⋆˚࿔ UwU 𝜗𝜚˚⋆ (pronounced “oo-woo”) is an exhibition at The New Gallery that showcases Molly JF Caldwell’s artistic interrogations of “cuteness.” It features an array of interactive sculptural work surrounded by airbrushed illustrations on walls and plinths, all resting upon a blanket of pink and white astroturf lining the gallery floor. Each piece was made alongside another artist, including Michelle Le, Robyn Mah, Mantis Mei, and Morgan Strom. Caldwell also chose to feature videos by Harvey Burland, and worked with technical expert Alec Brilling to create kinetic and interactive objects that bring the exhibition to life.
Molly JF Caldwell, 1MP3ND1NG :O !!!, 2025, carbon paper print, flocked bisque ware, plastic beads (photo: Danny Luong)
In the centre of the gallery is an elongated plinth decorated with a string of beads around its perimeter and wrapped in photographs of a burning high rise – imagery I soon recognize as being from the events of 9/11. Another black and white photo can be seen on a nearby wall where colourful felt letters obstruct a warzone. When plastic beads, glitter, and brightly coloured textiles collide with these depictions of destruction and brutality, the contrast is uncomfortably jarring – which sets a tone that stays with me while moving through the exhibition.
Molly JF Caldwell & Mantis Mei, PANTY FRUITS, 2025, oranges, lemons, handmade undergarments, fake Ficus trees, plastic pots, motion sensor, shivering mechanism, tulle (photo: Danny Luong)
Growing from pink tulle in plastic pots, a series of artificial Ficus trees decorate the gallery. Sprouting from their branches are citrus fruits dressed only in their underwear – a garment that covers most of the surface area on their round bodies. A collaboration with Mantis Mei titled PANTY FRUIT, these trees are one of several recurring motifs in the exhibition. Another is an array of handmade plushies created by Morgan Strom that line the gallery windows and sit in the pots holding Mei’s Ficus trees. Other small sculptural objects, such as the cats that lounge on the central plinth, have been flocked, creating a soft velvety coating that emphasizes the exhibition’s criticality towards an avoidant self-soothing.
There is a prevailing feeling of unease depicted via Caldwell’s use of objects. I hear it in the high-pitched buzz of two RCA televisions playing Harvey Burland’s otherwise silent videos showcasing bright prairie fields, snowy mountain peaks, and clips from old Betty Boop cartoons. Caldwell’s use of kinetics and interactive objects in the work only amplifies this unease. The branches of one citrus-clad Ficus tree begin shivering anxiously as I walk by. Then, while moving towards Michelle Le’s flocked angel water fountain, a curtain of acrylic nails begins to close around it, discouraging inquiring viewers from looking too closely.
Molly JF Caldwell, ⋆˚࿔ UwU 𝜗𝜚˚⋆, 2025, installation view (photo: Danny Luong)
A self-conscious sadness lies under this fuzzy blanket of unease. I sense it in Caldwell and Robyn Mah’s BENCH. Placed in front of the CRT televisions, this structure includes a built-in tissue box. When viewers pull at the box, they start to unravel a long line of embroidered and bedazzled silk tissues with cute illustrations of animals alongside text that reads “locally hated” and “I don’t really like who I am.” A physical hurt even radiates from the glow in the front window where an LED sign reads “Aching 4 U.” The yearning for closeness is so intense that it emerges as aches and pains in the body.
Considering all this, I continue to wonder about the function of cuteness in this space. Is it a longing for whimsy that manifests as an aesthetic and sensory pleasure? Do people depend on cuteness as a coping mechanism? Has cuteness been harnessed as a method of avoidance, morphing into deliberate ignorance? Perhaps the work in ⋆˚࿔ UwU 𝜗𝜚˚⋆ brings forward each one of these uses in an effort to come to terms with the way the artists’ fascination with cuteness, while playful and sometimes innocuous, has the potential to distract from all too real feelings of despair towards ourselves and the world around us.
As a final note, I’m appreciative of this exhibition’s focus on artistic collaboration. Of course, some form of collaboration is integral to the exhibition of most, if not all artwork, but Caldwell makes a point to bring in her peers through a unique hybrid solo exhibition/curatorial model, inviting artists to interact with her practices directly through the creation of new work. I hope to see more artists embracing explicitly collaborative approaches as a critique of the ideology of individualism and a necessary step towards creating wider societal change.
Molly JF Caldwell: ⋆˚࿔ UwU 𝜗𝜚˚⋆ continues until March 9.
The New Gallery: https://thenewgallery.org/
The gallery is partially accessible.
Levin Ifko is an interdisciplinary artist currently based in Mohkinstsis (Calgary). They will talk your ear off about music, queerness, and media art. Mostly, they believe that art is an opportunity to connect with ourselves and our communities.