Philadelphia
“Delight” might seem too twee a word for contemporary art parlance, but it certainly fits Katie Hudnall’s current exhibition. “The Longest Distance Between Two Points” (on view through July 20, 2025) features 16 sculptures made of salvaged wood, string, springs, and brass hardware, as well as four large drawings and a suite of eight smaller drawings, that all manifest a dark yet playful and whimsical aura.
In one example of inventive woodcraft, Hudnall plays with traditional forms while incorporating found objects, many of them acquired on walks through various cities where she has lived. A Cabinet of Lost and Found Things (2024) presents a tri-partite chest of drawers arranged in vertical stacks of three and four; the three main sections are linked by small, two-drawer-high connections, while two additional, oddly-shaped drawers nestle within a lattice of vertical and diagonal supports below. Together, these drawers, which are meant to be operated, present an interactive reliquary containing 42 sets of objects, including a rusted, battered, and paint-spattered pair of pliers and a plastic T. rex.
Mounted on the wall behind the cabinet, 42 spring-loaded shade mechanisms engage in a contorted game of “hide and seek.” Each knife-like shade is connected to a labyrinthine string-and-pulley system, which lifts it to reveal a bas-relief wooden eye when a particular drawer is opened. The intricate arrangement, which extends far up the wall, makes it difficult to identify exactly which drawer connects to which patch-covered eye, so the inquisitive viewer is never sure which eye has “found” them to be a snooping guest.
Pushmi Pullyu (2024) offers another study in creative fabrication: three retractable legs support a cylindrical tube of thin slats held horizontally by a stout dowel. What appears to be a telescope is, in fact, a brass-knobbed drawer that slides from side to side. Three legs are capped on each slightly curved end by laminated striations of light and dark wood; delicate wooden slides support an ornate wooden bezel stabilizing the dowel. Empty, the drawer becomes a perfect conduit for the imagination. Is one meant to push objects through it? Perhaps it should store treasure maps.
While several large drawings share space with the sculptures, they appear to be enlargements of smaller works, and something gets lost in translation. It is Hudnall’s small drawings that invite closer inspection. In Connectors (2025), two bowed figures drawn in thinly inked lines mimic the pair of three-legged tables set against a nearby wall. In contrast to their sculptural counterparts, these armless figures feature thin necks and spiky hair atop oversize heads. Their arched legs terminate in tiny points that seem to rest on the paper’s edge.
Depicted in profile, the figures stare at the ground like one-eyed jacks. Each one also sports another eye, which hangs from the single socket by an extracted nerve ending. These disembodied eyes, dangling above the edge of the paper, suggest brutal cat toys. Interconnected paths to additional eyeballs sprout from the figures’ heads. Tethered by pink and yellow lines that turn and stair-step to terminate in pulsating circles, squares, and one tiny, coffin-shaped form, these silent and empathic conversations remain an enigma.
“The Longest Distance Between Two Points” makes the museum’s main gallery seem large and full of adventure—a place for carefully storing and sharing the absentmindedly collected and somehow meaningful detritus of life. Hudnall’s intensely personal work manages the magic trick of placing viewers at the center of the experience, honoring the collector, the adventurer, and the storyteller.
