Art in Odd Places Participants Seek Utopia Under Dark Clouds

The public art festival’s 21st edition unfolded across 14th Street throughout the nor’easter this past weekend.

Art in Odd Places Participants Seek Utopia Under Dark Clouds
Entung Liu's “Weaving You” (2026) invites the public to weave strips of four AI-generated portraits together in a performance questioning technology's role in immigration bureaucracy. (all photos Rhea Nayyar/Hyperallergic unless otherwise noted)

This weekend's truly shitty weather was antithetical to the concept of utopia, but that would never stop Art in Odd Places (AiOP) from probing the possibilities of one.

The public art festival's waterlogged 21st iteration splashed along the length of 14th Street in Manhattan on Saturday and Sunday, resisting the doom and gloom of a weeping nor'easter by engaging the public through performance and site-specific installations.

Optimistic as it may be, however, the festival was not spared from climate-induced technical difficulties and disgruntled New Yorkers channeling the ire of yet another washout weekend. Gathering under narrow awnings and leaky scaffolding from 6th to 8th Avenue, AiOP's artists tried to invoke utopian vibrations on Sunday afternoon, facing the challenge of distracting harried passersby from their soaked socks as the rainfall shifted between pelting sideways and mist-like drizzling.

A heated argument about umbrella proximity unfolded behind me when I was seated with Massachusetts-based artist Nima Nikakhlagh for the interactive "Archive of Possibility" (2026) he was staging just outside the 8th Avenue subway stop. I drew what Nikakhlagh asked of everyone who stopped to participate — a utopian vision of a freedom not yet achieved or a city not yet realized — as two individuals swore at each other over an accidental brolly bonk.

Nima Nikakhlagh's “The Archive of Possibility” (2026), stationed just outside of the 8th Avenue subway station. The contributions will remain sealed in the box forever.

Just before that, I saw Panama-based performance artist Susana Gonzalez-Revilla packing her props from beneath a laundromat's awning as the smell of palo santo swept through the air. She told me that she was moving to another place after the storefront tenants complained because her performance included fire and drums. Tensions were also high for Ariel Kleinberg of Astoria, who installed their cutout paintings of goddesses along a chain-link fence and tarp-covered storefront.