Interview
The Colombian-American painter delves into his latest art collection, the intricate nature of queerness, and the solace found in analog methods.
This article is part of Hyperallergic’s 2026 Pride Month series, featuring interviews with queer and trans elder artists throughout June.
Lari Pittman’s vividly chaotic paintings combine a range of visual elements, merging design, decoration, and typography with cartoons, architecture, and fine art. Beneath these captivating, elaborate layers, he explores challenging historical narratives—particularly those associated with the Americas—using a complex weave of text and imagery that resist simple interpretation. The Colombian-American artist has been exploring this theme for over forty years, from his early pieces like “Plymouth Rock” (1985) and the provocative Needy series of the early 1990s addressing the AIDS crisis, to his recent series Sparkling Cities With Egg Monuments (2022–23), which critiques civic phallocentrism. In this discussion, Pittman shares insights on his forthcoming work, set to be unveiled later this year, the nuances of queerness, and the refuge offered by analog practices.
Hyperallergic: Could you tell us about your latest work?
Lari Pittman: I’m preparing for an exhibition at Lehmann Maupin gallery in New York, opening in October, titled The Remedy of Analog Space and Time. This collection aims to address symptoms rather than root causes, offering a surface-level solution to some of the malaise affecting humanity for various reasons. I don’t presume to offer a cure.
H: How do you define “analog space and time”?
LP: It refers to leisurely, continuous periods that can lead to boredom and philosophical complexities that lack resolution. These are aspects that late capitalism often overlooks. Analog space and time isn’t just about contemplating nature; it encourages certain reflections that other concepts of space and time don’t. Such musings are increasingly a privilege. However, even those without such privilege might find some benefit in brief moments of contemplation, like the 10 minutes before sleep after a long day.
H: The analog approach is central to your art.
LP: Indeed, I still work entirely on my own. Even during the COVID pandemic, I continued to visit my studio daily. The routine can be monotonous, but I don’t view “boring” as a negative term.
H: Your works were recently included in group exhibitions at Jessica Silverman in San Francisco and David Zwirner in Los Angeles. How does your art relate to these different settings?
LP: Having been in this field for a long time, I’ve noticed that my work sometimes seems difficult to contextualize within group exhibitions. It isn’t ahistorical or outsider art, yet it’s not directly linked to traditional painting. I recognize that my pieces can appear unusual in these contexts, but meaningful discussions can arise if viewers engage thoughtfully. Although I am confident, I also experience insecurity when my work is publicly displayed, influenced by how it is received over time.
H: It’s common to feel insecure about things you care about.
LP: Yes, and it’s beneficial. When meeting new people, especially artists, if I don’t perceive some level of insecurity about their work, forming a friendship can be challenging.
