The 2026 Oregon Contemporary Artists’ Biennial is up at Oregon Contemporary through July 5th, 2026. It’s a strong show and worth a visit. Here are 8 pieces from the show which resonated with me.

Glory Glory

by Bean Gilsdorf

Glory Glory opens the exhibition. A run-on-sentence in flag form complete with golden tassels, borders, and a red satin backing winds its way from the entrance and into the main gallery. Cheesy illustrations from history textbooks are collaged together with the stammering text “uh uh uh” floating over the top. It’s like the flag is making excuses.

Fifty Clocks Made to Strike Together

by DeepTime Collective

Fifty Clocks stare across the entry way, facing Glory Glory as if to say “hurry up, get to your point”. It’s a good paring.

The title is taken from a John Adams quote:

…thirteen clocks were made to strike together—a perfection of mechanism which no artist had ever before effected.

Each clock has a little note next to it about when it was wound, set, reset, leveled, or adjusted. There is a clock for all 50 states, can they strike together?

York

by Todd McGrain

In 2020 a statue of Harvey Scott, noted racist shit-stain and former editor of the Oregonian, was toppled by protestors. McGrain secretly replaced the statue with the first bust of York.

York was a slave owned by William Clark and served along with Lewis, Clark, and the Corps of Discovery on their journey west. As we was enslaved, we was paid nothing.

A permanent bronze version of the bust is on display at the Portland Art Museum.

The Bronze “York” on display at the Portland Art Museum

By Day and By Night, Deposition #3, Deposition #2

by Stephen Hayes

Hayes’ three monochrome panoramic intaglio prints on the back wall of the main exhibition space. They read like smeared video stills captured in ink. The wall text tells me they are intended to resemble the traditional keffiyeh scarf. I didn’t see that immediately but I buy that as inspiration. The shape alone implies either panorama or textiles.

Benevolent Dictator

by Raphael Arar

Benevolent Dictator is an interactive work that allows you to ask a question about governance to an unseen tech overlord. Scan the QR code to visit a web-site. There you can ask a question, answer a question, view others responses, or vote.

When you vote (I voted) you get to choose between the human and AI generated response. If you vote for the AI generated response (I did), the machine wins and the printer outputs a record of the victory.

extreme industries (we deserve we desire we demand)

by Demian DinéYazhi'

This glowing neon demand feels like an antidote to those tedious “we believe” yard signs that I see all over Portland.

Messages of Hope I - IV

by Marcelo Fontana

“Messages of Hope” is just what it says it is. Four hopeful messages, nicely printed, pinned to the wall and stacked. Take one, share it, pin it to your wall, mail it to your mom.

I took home “Does holding onto hope make you a revolutionary?” (yes) and “What are we building in the invisible hours” (not enough). I haven’t decided if I want to post them, guerrilla-style, on some wall in my neighborhood or suffocate the prints in a mat, in a frame, under glass.

This piecer reminds me a little bit of something that Félix González-Torres might have made (that’s a complement). I like that the art is anti-precious. The prints are nice, nicely designed, nicely typeset. But they’re just paper pinned to the wall and stacked on the floor. There’s something about the artistic potential of office supplies that makes me very happy.

The Beast Within, Hunter, and Shadow Self

by Wayne Bund

It’s hard to capture in a photo of a photo - but these are big photographic prints, not inkjet prints. Real photos just pop off the wall.

I see man-as-minotaur in the left image, minotaur hunting or being hunted in the center, and the shadow revealing the true minotaur self. According to the wall-text the center photo was taken at Rooster Rock, a state park in Corbett, OR not far from Portland. The wall-text omits that Rooster Rock has a clothing-optional beach, notorious for cruising. I love the metaphor of queer identity being a secret minotaur. A strong, dangerous, mythical beast hiding in plain sight.

Themes

TK Smith is the curator of this exhibition. You can find him on the internet here:

The following quote is the mission statement appearing on the wall opening the exhibition:

THE 250TH ANNIVERSARY of the signing of the Declaration of Independence offers us the opportunity to reflect on the state of the "great American experiment," a nation designed to prove that the people—no monarch nor aristocracy—could govern themselves.

The United States was built on such ideals as freedom, liberty, and justice for all. These ideals give us something to aspire to, but rarely reflect our lived experiences, in the past or the present moment. The question of who counts as "the people," which precedes the American Revolution, is still contested to this day. The state of Oregon offers a microcosm for the country, as its history has been greatly impacted by the struggle to define and redefine what makes a true Oregonian, worthy of all rights and protections offered by the state.

The Price of the Ticket explores the disparities between ideals and individual realities. The artists assembled here were asked to put forward artworks that speak to their own inherited or lived experiences. In addressing these disparities, the artists present a sobering state of the union that implores us to grieve, resist, and speak our truths. Through the mediums of painting, sculpture, print, photography, video, audio, installation, weaving, text, and performance the artists offer us ways to address complicated pasts, confront an uncertain present, and dream of new futures.

Tall order.

I typically bristle against “political” art. I often don’t like it; I find it doesn’t work. Fine art is a very poor form of protest (if you care about results). Overtly political art, especially in a gallery setting, is a sign pointing to another conversation you should be having. Divorced from its immediate context, political art can seem disconnected. It’s like trying to understand an unfamiliar movie poster in a language you don’t speak. I think these 8 pieces resonated with me because they exemplify TK Smith’s mission statement and also extend it.