Review: New Shanequa Gay work a standout at ‘Y3K: Black Quantum Futures’

The title of the exhibition Y3K: Black Quantum Futures at One Contemporary on Edgewood Avenue, curated by gallery director and founder Faron Manuel, can be traced to the 2016 book Black Quantum Futurism: Theory & Practice (Volume 1) written by Rasheedah Phillips, with contributions by Moor Mother Goddess and more. In the book, the author describes the titular concept as “a new approach to living and experiencing reality by way of the manipulation of space-time in order to see into possible futures, and/or collapse space-time into a desired future in order to bring about that future’s reality.”

A sort of neo-Afrofuturism, this movement describes time and its material impact as a tool for both the oppression and the survival and liberation of Black people and communities. Taking these elements together, I expected to find an exhibition full of temporal collapses and distortions of space. What I found in this group exhibition featuring 10 artists was a mixed bag.

Ancestral Chorus (2025) by Shanequa Gay was a standout. Five partial figures stand in a landscape. Featuring collaged pieces and highly-saturated unnatural colors, the landscape and figures are most identifiable through their silhouettes. One figure stands on gold-leaf legs, sporting a tunic of black and white checkerboard, their head a ghostly apparition, bearing only the slightest definition of facial features. Next to this figure stands another. Legs of black and white stripes hold up a galactic dress which lies just underneath a similar specter of a head.

The work is full of these kinds of jarring combinations. Each one visually jumps out to the viewer, ultimately flattening pictorial space into one dimension. It is this flattening that makes this artwork so powerful in the context of the exhibition.

At a time when, stylistically, everything is in play and the advent of the internet and social media mean we live in a constant state of nowness, the flattening of Gay’s artwork serves as a remarkable reflection of a world in which we are overwhelmed with a chaotic overload of information, all of which demands our attention. 

But how does this chaos bring about a future reality? The answer lies in the grouping of the figures. Despite the unruly setting and disjointed elements, these figures stand together. No matter how disorderly a scene may become, at least we can rely on those close to us.

But not every artwork resonated with the curatorial premise as clearly. In Self Portrait with Blind Faith (2025) by Samuel Dunson, a person wearing a surgical mask raises a hand to their cheek. Their eyes have become white voids, as if rolled back into their head. Atop the person’s head rests a pair of glasses within which is a painted pair of eyes. The portrait is set in a ground of abstract marks and comic-inspired graphic elements.

Seen in the context of the exhibit, this artwork feels more like “surrealism meets street art” than an illustration of “Black quantum futures.”

Y3K: Black Quantum Futures is well-intended but feels as though it bit off more than it could chew. For how can one relatively small exhibition successfully tackle a subject as large and complex as Black quantum futurism? This is not to say that small galleries should shy away from big concepts, rather that good curation is key.

Had this exhibition narrowed its scope and more carefully chosen work that fit the premise, it would have been more successful. As it stands, it is a sweeping array of work, some of it quite wonderful explorations of the exhibition’s concept, alongside some non sequiturs that don’t quite fit.

::

Leia Genis is a trans artist and writer currently based in Atlanta. Her writing has been published in Hyperallergic, Frieze, Burnaway, Art Papers and Number: Inc. magazine. Genis is a graduate of the Savannah College of Art and Design and is also an avid cyclist with a competition history at the national level.