Summer 2026

Pianissimo, 2026
Acrylic on Canvas
60 x 60 in

June 21st, 2026

This winter in New York was a very cold one, cold enough to remind me of my boyhood when we skated on frozen ponds and lakes and saw the Hudson River ice over, and welcomed the hot chocolate that our moms would have waiting when we traipsed home cold and wet from the snowball fights with our neighborhood friends. And it might have been a serious disappointment that this spring, too, has been both exceptionally cool and rainy, and conversely, exceptionally hot at times, even as we experienced the annual joy of seeing everything bud and flower. But for me, and much of the metropolitan area, there has been the New York Knickerbockers, the Knicks, and their incredible march toward the National Basketball Association championship. 

I was around for their previous titles in 1970 and 1973 and remember those years as joyful celebrations of a team that was unselfish, shared the ball, and played fierce defense. In other words, they played the game right. And that is exactly how the 2026 version of the Knicks succeeded. Basketball is the city’s game and this playoff run, during which the Knicks came back from some seemingly impossible deficits (in the Championship Finals they won one game when they had been down by 29 points, and they were down by double digits in each and every game at some point in the last quarter yet prevailed by winning four of five of those games) has been the most dramatic unifying experience in the region across all races, origins, incomes, religions, and any other differences since the tragic occurrence of 9/11. If there was ever a reason to be a passionate sports fan, this Knicks team fits the bill. And something about the beauty and elegance of the game played right has made it a favorite of the arts community. I’ve managed to dig my way into what was a not-exactly-secret society of passionate Knicks fans who also happen to be painters, sculptors, actors, dancers, writers, gallerists, advisors, and others who have been carried along on the wave of emotional joy that the Knicks gifted us this May and June. Even better, they are led by a suddenly recognized superstar in Jalen Brunson, a 6’2” guard who was severely underrated (almost every pundit said or wrote a version of “This guy cannot be the one who can lead a team to a championship. The Knicks have made a huge mistake.”) at the time he signed with New York, proceeded to give the team a $100,000,000 contract “discount” in order to allow them to sign complementary pieces, each of whom was critical to the championship run, and scored 45 points in the championship close-out game, every one of which was critical and necessary in a game that went down to the last 15 seconds; by Karl Anthony Townes, known as KAT, one of the best shooting big (as in 7’0”) men in NBA history, but also known previously as “soft” and lacking defensive commitment, who showed exceptional toughness and a tremendous defensive ability throughout the playoffs; and OG Anunobly, one of the best two-way (offensive and defensive) players in the league who made an otherworldly tip-in of a missed shot to win Game 4 of the championship series to complete a comeback from a 29-point deficit with 1.2 seconds left in the game, a shot that immediately became known as “The Hand of God” around New York, and had played exceptionally well throughout the playoffs when the team desperately needed that from him, but is also a very modest man of very few words. I could write more about the other players, Mikal Bridges, Josh Hart, Mitchell Robinson, Landry Shamet, Jose Alvarado (a New York City kid who grew up dreaming of being on the Knicks), Deuce McBride, and their first-year coach Mike Brown (who was reportedly only their third choice and got the job because the first two coaches approached turned the job down), but suffice it to say the New York Knicks are a likable, gritty, intelligent group of individuals who found a way to become a true team that depended upon each other to win a championship in a fashion that engendered wildly joyful passion in New York that doesn’t show up every day.

Now, as we approach the summer, and my adrenaline rush from the Knicks’ postseason run recedes a little, I find myself slowing down again and looking forward to the late afternoons of July and August when the shadows lengthen and the quality of light combines with the cooler part of the day to create an elegiac sensibility that particularly appeals to me.

I’ve written and spoken many times in the past about my artistic practice being driven by, among other things, a desire to repair a fractured world. At the moment the fractures are quite visible, and seem ubiquitous. There have been multiple interstate wars, civil wars, intentionally induced famines, a dramatic increase in hate crimes and hateful expressions and acts, to say nothing of the extreme political divisions across much of the world that have shaken peoples’ belief in their governing systems. It would be easy to fall into despair about all of this, but that is cowardly. Better to do small acts when you can that help heal these wounds. Small acts committed by enough people add up to big ones. There is much I try to do as a citizen of the world, albeit in small gestures, and I continue to try to make my art a source of beauty, communication, connection, and consolation.

It is as an artist that I want to address a situation that has really bothered me this spring: the Venice Biennale. I don’t know how many of you have followed what has happened this year in regard to what is considered by many “the Olympics of Art”. I assume most know how the Biennale is structured, with various nations having dedicated pavilions around the Giardini in Venice, and other major exhibits dispersed around the city in various settings from palazzos to armories to sheds. The 2026 version has been engulfed in politics. There were massive protests against the participation of Russian and Israeli artists, ending in the resignation of the entire jury that generally selects the best artists (to be granted the Gold and Silver Lions) in protest against the Biennale refusing to ban them. On May 9 there was a massive strike of workers directed against “the genocide pavilion” (as Israel’s was described by the strikers) and at least 20 nations closed their pavilions for the day to protest Israel’s inclusion in the Biennale. I don’t know of any artists who fire missiles or drop bombs, and my sense tells me that the artistic community is very rarely in favor of violence (one exception being the Palestinian artists sympathetic to Hamas who have produced a rich vein of anti-Semitic art), but in a rush to punish their homelands the protestors and their sympathizers felt it wise to exclude their visions from the proceedings. The question of tying artists to their countries and/or their work to their personal politics is an old question. If you love Richard Wagner and attend his operas you have answered the second question for yourself. But I find the first question particularly obnoxious. An artist may or may not agree with the politics of his/her nation but guilt by association is unwise at best, much more dangerous at worst.

To add to the controversies, the American Pavilion at Venice has been steeped in politics. The U.S. State Department insisted that the pavilion contain work that reflects well on America and does not follow DEI practices. Two artists who were asked to place their work in the pavilion turned down the offer. A committee that was delegated by the State Department to identify and select the artist to be featured was, itself, steeped in controversy because it was felt to be MAGA-coded. They selected Alma Allen, a respected but not widely famous sculptor who, while American, had been living in Mexico for many years and was quite apolitical. On short notice he produced a show that included old work and new. I don’t love all of his work but I think some is very good, and I think the “star” of the show, installed in the most prominent part of the pavilion, Ray of Light, is truly wonderful. But thanks to the association with the Trump administration in regard to how he was selected, a number of critics have been incredibly cruel in their reviews of his work. Being selected to represent the United States at the Biennale is generally considered a career-defining honor but at this point Allen probably feels more besieged than pleased. 

Everything about this year’s Biennale suggests fracture. Art can be, and often has been, a means of connecting and consoling. But we live today in a world that seems to spiral toward the opposite. I consider it a tragedy that large segments of the art community have contributed to that spiral. I have no illusions that the Pandora’s Box that has been pried open will be closed anytime soon, but I do believe in the pendulum that eventually creates balance and hope to be a significant contributor to the force that gets it swinging in the opposite direction. I’ll cite the late, great, David Hockney in this regard as he opined on the purposes of art as a way to share thoughts and experiences and that it should be practiced with intent to bring joy and alleviate the “sterility of despair.” He also, like Matisse, thought the world beautiful if only we looked, and that art should reflect that beauty and elevate its viewers. To which I say, “amen”.

I have an interesting summer ahead of me. I will be shown as part of a wonderful group show mounted by the Hollis Taggert gallery (on West 26th Street in NYC) that will include both contemporary artists and some important artists of the 20th Century. I will be shown in a museum show in August (opening August 3) at the Ogunquit Museum of American Art (Ogunquit, Maine). I will be shown in a really interesting show at Eighteen Gallery in Copenhagen (opening August 20) that will coincide with the Enter Art Fair, the major international Scandinavian art fair that will be in Copenhagen from August 24-28 this year. I also will be working toward tentatively scheduled major shows in New York and Paris in 2027. It will be a busy time with a crowded schedule, especially because I and my family are traveling to Scandinavia in August both to attend the opening at Eighteen Gallery and to explore Norway and Sweden as well as Denmark. I will make sure to say we are not acting as an advance party to scout Greenland.

Over the past few weeks I have had two more paintings acquired for the permanent collections of museums. I am in discussions with two more in which the chief curator and Director have requested a gift of a painting but their Collections Committee and Board do not convene again until the fall so those are not agreed upon as of now. In my next letter I might address my feelings about these museum transactions. I consider them a great honor but there are certainly tradeoffs.

I, as always, invite you to sign up to receive these Seasonal Letters on the contact page of the website. There are only four each year so I won’t pollute your inbox. My hope is that some of you will join the group that has already established an epistolary relationship with me, one I consider a part of my practice.

I wish you a wonderful summer and will end with this ditty making the rounds of NYC right now:

“My mayor’s still Muslim,
My bagel’s still Jewish, 
Even the Pope’s on our side,
Knicks in Five”

Keats, Eliot, Pushkin, Byron, Shakespeare, Homer, Milton, Neruda, Dante, Tagore, all had nothing on MD Ahnaf Hossain (the Bangladeshi immigrant and fanatic Knicks supporter who made this ditty that at the moment sums up New York City and its vibe just to a tee).

Regards,

Abbott Stillman