What’s Left to Say? At Laundromat, Artists Rethink Their Role in Hyper-Info Era

The work of Javier Martín, left, and Gabriel Pessoto, two of the artists in the group exhibition “Unoriginal Genius” at Laundromat Art Space Miami, through Saturday, April 26. (Photo courtesy of Ross Karlan)

What’s the value of words, and how can they be used? Are they tools of communication, visual elements, or both? Is there even such a thing as an original sentence anymore, an original thought? All these questions, and more, surface while navigating “Unoriginal Genius,” a group exhibition curated by Ross Karlan at Laundromat Art Space through Saturday, April 26. The show takes its title and theoretical backbone from Marjorie Perloff’s 2010 book, which turns 15 this year, and poignantly, it’s also been one year since the influential literary critic’s passing.

Perloff’s core argument is that originality has become something of a myth in the digital age, where citation, recycling, and repurposing are the new creative frontiers. The artists in “Unoriginal Genius” lean into that tension, blurring the line between creation and curation, authorship and assemblage, in a way that feels particularly resonant now.

The first thing to notice when opening Laundromat’s door is a quiet provocation: the phrase “High Words Are Empty” looms at the top of a wall, with six feet of blank space below. It’s part declaration, part challenge, and maybe even playful. This is an exhibition that will make you think—and occasionally, double back.

Following the show counterclockwise, it begins with André Azevedo’s “Poemas Gráficos,” a series of striking typewriter-based works that transform the machine’s limited characters into intricate forms. Azevedo pushes the legacy of concrete poetry into a new register, playing with bilingual opposites and visual rhythm, all while staying grounded in analog tactility. The typewriter becomes not just a tool, but a constraint that fosters invention. It’s a deliberate throwback that speaks volumes in an era defined by digital ease.

André Acevedo, “Onda,” (2024), in the group exhibition “Unoriginal Genius” at Laundromat Art Space. (Photo courtesy of Ross Karlan)

Javier Martín’s pieces come next; his paintings are minimalist but loaded, almost teasing viewers with their semiotic games. In “ONLY ONLINE,” for instance, language and meaning slide past each other, critiquing the absurdity of digital life while seducing us with visual precision. In “Horizon,” he subverts the word itself, forcing the viewer to tilt their head, destabilizing the expected relationship between word and form. And yes, “High Words Are Empty” is Martin’s too, a physical and philosophical anchor for the show.

Gabriel Pessoto, working out of São Paulo, brings the exhibition into a more tactile digital dialogue. His embroideries and textile pieces mimic computer error screens and code, slowing down the overwhelming pace of information into something to be touched or stitched. There’s something deeply poetic in seeing crash messages turned into soft, labor-intensive objects. Pessoto doesn’t just bridge digital and analog; he softens one with the logic of the other.

At the gallery’s far end, Katelyn Kopenhaver’s work provides a sardonic, deadpan counterpoint. Her screen-printed lists, like “Things Miami Does Not Need More Of” (like Bentleys for instance), are at once funny and incisive.

Katelyn Kopenhaver’s “Things Miami Does Not Need More Of” at Laundromat Art Space. (Photo courtesy of Ross Karlan)

These alphabetized inventories feel like poetry and data, echoing Kenneth Goldsmith’s “uncreative writing” philosophy, where transcription becomes an act of subversion. Kopenhaver’s brilliance lies in framing banality as artifact. In “Open Secrets (The Unreported Unsolved),” she samples language from missing persons’ headlines, unearthing the quiet heaviness of what slips past us in the daily media churn.

The exhibition unfolds like a thesis in motion, each artist building upon the last. By the time you reach the final corridor, you start to see the show as an essay in parts: a multi-voiced meditation on language, repetition, and the digital dilemma. There’s a rhythm to how the works speak to one another, even if what they’re saying sometimes isn’t entirely original. Which is, of course, the point.

If anything, what might have happened if “Unoriginal Genius” had included a few moments of more traditional poetry, something to sit with and read slowly? Then again, maybe, that would have been uncreative.

WHAT: “Unoriginal Genius”, curated by Ross Karlan

WHERE: Laundromat Art Space, 185 NE 59th St., Miami

WHEN: Noon to 6 p.m., Monday through Saturday. Through Saturday, April 26

COST: Free

INFORMATION: laundromatartspace.com

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