When Art Becomes a Means of Movement

The artists in Art Drop #11 come from all over the globe and look about as different as three artists can; but what connects them is a shared sense of movement, and their ability to propel a viewer from one place to another simply by existing in a space.

Each week, I publish an Art Drop when new works are added to The Collection. This post offers the editorial context behind that update—how I’m thinking about the artists, and how their work shows up in a lived space.

This week, I’m leaving the images to The Collection—and focusing here on how the work feels, rather than how it looks.

First up is William Schaeuble, an Iowa- and Illinois-based painter whose work initially reads as familiar, even childlike: quiet scenes, Midwestern settings, images that feel almost disarmingly naïve. Spend more time with William Schaeuble’s paintings, though, and that surface simplicity begins to give way. His paintings hold a tension between what looks ordinary and what feels unresolved, inviting you to return to them again and again.

Even though the American experience sits at the core of Schaeuble’s practice, he invites viewers from anywhere to examine their own cultural experiences—and to question what they assume to be universal.

You may not be longing to be transported to farmland or cornfields, but there’s something grounding about work that reflects shared cultural memory—images that feel known, even if you can’t quite articulate why. In moments when everything feels noisy and accelerated, that kind of visual steadiness can be surprisingly restorative.

Next is Yi Liu, whose paintings move in the opposite direction—quickly, densely, and with a constant sense of motion. Yi Liu’s paintings are filled with imagery that pulls from both Eastern and Western visual traditions, creating compositions that feel alive with tension and momentum. Bulls chase butterflies. Cranes move beneath willow trees. Your eye never quite settles in one place.

Living between cultures—born in China and now based in London—Yi deploys an East-meets-West iconographic collision that mirrors her lived experience. These are paintings that reward attention and curiosity, revealing new details the longer you sit with them. (For more on this, you might watch this episode of Viewing Rooms where Anne Parke and I discuss this in depth.)

Finally, I want to turn to Kristen Giorgi, an artist I should have include in last week’s post about artists who I have been following for a while and are having a moment. Kristen Giorgi’s paintings employ color and shape in a way that feels immersive rather than descriptive. I often think of them as portals—not to a specific place, but to a state of mind.

There’s a soft yet deliberate magnetism to her work. A sense of warmth, light, and calm draws you in slowly, almost without your even realizing it. These are paintings that don’t demand your attention—but earn it, over time. Once you’ve found your way in, you want to return again and again.

This week, I added new works by each of these artists to The Collection, where I thoughtfully track the artists and specific pieces that stand out to me through my work as an advisor.

If you’re curious to see how these artists translate from idea to object—and how they might live on your walls—you can explore more there.