About the Show
Works in Progress
Group Show
December 12, 2025
Works in Progress invites artists, designers, and makers to share the first sparks of something new, the beginnings of a larger body of work still taking shape. Maybe it’s the first piece in a new series, the seed of a concept that’s been tugging at you all year, or a shift in direction that marks where you’re heading next.
This show is about creative momentum, the moment when a new idea starts to take form and points toward what’s coming. It’s an exhibition of beginnings, where experimentation and curiosity take the lead.
We’re looking for work that signals a new chapter, a new rhythm, or a new obsession. Submissions can include print, paint, sculpture, photography, type, installation, digital, or mixed media. So, anything that captures the energy of starting something worth continuing.
Andy Sohoza
Kitchen
Photo Print,
19qty, 4in x 6in
“Are you a photographer?”
“Not really. I mean, I am a ‘creative type’, but I just have a lot of cameras. I collect Mino…”
“Let me see your Instagram. Oh my god. Yeah, that’s stupid. You’re a totally a photographer.”
It’s one thing when I’m talking to one of my people, but ever since this encounter with one of the randomly blurry drunk girls that swim around Main Street, I’ve been wrestling with the idea that my standard line about not being a photographer (much like my line about not really being a designer) is just flying in the face of objective reality at this point. Like I’m just hanging onto a creative value system or identity where I refuse to admit I’m either of those things. Which is an uncomfortable thought. But I’m also uncomfortable with calling myself a photographer when my current output with the medium has so little intent or cohesion.
Kitchen is an attempt to resolve this discomfort. Simply put, I’ve been keeping a loaded camera in my kitchen (an area about the size of parking space), because if I am a photographer like the girl said, and creative like I said, something conceptually (or at least visually) interesting should result. While this sort of thing isn’t something I would normally show, this particular exploration was apropos of the theme, and I get a kick out of the idea that my first public exhibition of the medium would be centered around such a ridiculous constraint.
It’s maybe worth noting that, while roundly regarded as a great cook, I can’t rattle off a single recipe. Maybe that’s why I don’t call myself a chef either?
Angela Pulvere
Endurance Prevails
Silicone, Bottle Opener, Key Chain,
7in x 7in x 7in
This piece- a silicone head reshaped into a bottle opener and hung like a keychain- revisits a possible childhood toy with its exaggeration and absurdity. Repurposing these familiar forms and nostalgic ideas create a new and improved experience with distortion. The head embraces the surreal with functionality while oscillating between humor and discomfort. The work is a long overdue self exploration of multidisciplinaries while using the endless hodgepodge of recycled materials sitting in cabinets and drawers.
Bradley Day (Suburban Yeti)
Godzilla vs. Mechagodzilla
Acrylic, Paperboard, Brass Brads, String, Display Box/Playset:
7.5in x 5in x 3in, Articulated Paperboard Figures: ~4in x ~4in ea.
"Work In Progress"... I knew I had to be a part of this show. I feel like my life is a never-ending work in progress and my art/studio is a fierce reminder of that. More started-and-unfinished projects than I care to admit. I like to tell myself that eventually they will be completed. I've had pop culture paper dolls & playsets sketched out and started multiple times, but never completed. A show like this helps push me to get these works completed.
Chris McGee
Thiel’s Basilisk
Acrylic on canvas,
24in x 36in
A reflection on the eschatology of techno feudalism in the face of AI Clankers, drones, and the ensuing pervasive sense of dread - that the machines of capital will become self-sustaining and slough off the flesh of their human counterparts.
Partially inspired by the quote from Nick Land:
“Machinic desire can seem a little inhuman, as it rips up political cultures, deletes traditions, dissolves subjectivities, and hacks through security apparatuses, tracking a soulless tropism to zero control. This is because what appears to humanity as the history of capitalism is an invasion from the future by an artificial intelligent space that must assemble itself entirely from its enemy’s resources.” - Mechanic Desire, 1993
Christopher A. Ritter
Perfectly Imperfect
Mixed Media,
5in x 7in
"Too Much Red" and "Perfectly Imperfect" are collages of paint and typography experiments titled after client feedback. These works were created in development of design concepts for the Chicago Cubs.
Christopher A. Ritter
Too Much Red
Mixed Media,
7in x 5in
"Too Much Red" and "Perfectly Imperfect" are collages of paint and typography experiments titled after client feedback. These works were created in development of design concepts for the Chicago Cubs.
Dustin Blankenship (chuckbees)
stacks
India ink on Stonehenge paper,
38in x 50in
The WIP theme relates more to my overall development as an artist and is not necessarily limited to this one piece. Doodles on folders and notebooks in sixth grade eventually transitioned to formal sketchbooks in high school. I would fill page after page with black ink and it never felt like anything. It was just a way to pass the time and it kept my mind occupied. For twenty years that's all it was. Then I learned how to screen print and it changed my perspective as to what I had been creating for all of that time. I wondered how I could use all of those doodles, introduce color, and start to build layers. But when I went back to those sketchbooks I wasn't happy with the source material. So, my focus switched back to doodling. Only this time it felt more like drawing. I wasn't just filling blank space. Now I was considering composition, pattern, scale, and complexity. Certainly there has been evolution in my style, but that evolution is not complete, and it may never be. Black lines on everything is the only goal.
Dustin Bowen
What does it mean to be relentless?
Acrylic and Paint Marker on panel,
18in x 24in
True experimentation doesn't come from staying in your comfort zone or straying away from risks. For years I focused on the medium of collage to bring my ideas and feelings into a visual form. This piece is both a new direction and a return to the most basic artist skills. For years I would doodle, sketch and scribble in the margins of notebooks, inside covers of journals and on the backs of post it notes. I would often focus on repetitive marks, lines and shapes that would eventually start to look like other things and then I would make them come to life. In this piece I wanted to start by just mark making, alternating line types, shapes, sharp points, expressive marks and then just see what happened. I put in the time and here we are. The final piece is both the beginning and the end. The work is never done.
Lindsay Farrell
Spirit Portrait of a Friend
Acrylic on plywood,
21in x 28.5in
Spirit Portrait is my interpretation of Feminine Connection, whose presence has grounded me through difficult moments. I painted her as a figure made of clouds—soft, intuitive, and shifting—framed by her two dogs, who embody companionship and protection. She leans into a cactus, a symbol of her ability to face discomfort with openness instead of resistance. Against the dark backdrop, her presence becomes a gentle but unwavering force: a reminder that resilience can be tender and courageous at the same time. I drew reference from, and listened to “The Divine Feminine” by Mac Miller during the first conception of this painting. I don’t consider this piece complete. There is something missing still and I’m still working on what exactly it is.
Grant Moxley
Who Dey Yesterday
Photo,
8in x 10in
This project is on going and I'm not sure if it will ever end, unless Mike Brown takes them out of Cincinnati.
Grant Moxley
Who Dey Today
Photo,
8in x 10in
This project is on going and I'm not sure if it will ever end, unless Mike Brown takes them out of Cincinnati.
Grant Moxley
Who Dey Tommorow
Photo,
8in x 10in
This project is on going and I'm not sure if it will ever end, unless Mike Brown takes them out of Cincinnati.
Jarrod Becker (jabart)
Field Painting 1
Oil, acrylic, and marker on canvas,
24in x 24in
I love the theatricality of painting existing as an action or happening in a real moment time but re-enacted or pretended in a visual from something taken from a true thought or reality – dramatic representation as an art or profession.
I love the messiness and wildness of making art and the perfectness found in imperfection. Through expressive strokes and intentional chaos, I aim to capture the raw, untamed aspects of human spirit. Using a plethora of mixed media found in my studio at hands reach, I try to build richly layered works that invite tactile and emotional engagement. “Precision often destroys the dream” - Gauguin
Jarrod Becker (jabart)
Field Painting 2
Oil, acrylic, and marker on canvas,
24in x 24in
My art is a celebration of imperfection, an ongoing exploration of the balance between chaos and harmony, and a testament to the quiet resilience embedded in everyday life.
“I like energy to come from my work while also containing an easy going carefree kind of attitude stemming from the boldness and confidence of the strokes. And yet that ‘wildness’ is also carefully tamed and encapsulated by a compelling sense of compositional strength.”
Jordan Hackworth
What Remains After the Burn
Paint on Wood,
16in x 20in
Leaving your hometown is one of those experiences everyone talks about like it’s some kind of spiritual exfoliation. People say you “grow,” or you “start over,” or you “find yourself,” as if identity is a thing you misplaced behind the couch. But the truth is simpler and stranger: leaving feels like burning down a version of your life just to see what walks out of the smoke.
In mythology, that creature is a phoenix, fine, whatever. But that’s always felt too tidy. Too self-aware. If anything, the thing that survives the blaze looks more like an eagle: not a symbol of patriotic chest-thumping, but the weirdly durable American instinct to stay connected to the people who understand you in ways you don’t fully understand yourself. The eagle is the messenger bird you didn’t know you needed. It’s the friend who still knows your drink order at Larry’s even after you swear you’ve changed.
This artwork imagines that shift, the moment when the old version of you gets torched, but something leaner, sharper, and unexpectedly sincere lifts off anyway. It’s about the way a place sticks to you even when you leave it behind, how your past doesn’t vanish so much as it follows you at a higher altitude. The eagle rises because something has to. And what it carries is everything you thought you’d escaped, reframed as the thing that keeps you tethered to home.
Jim Graham
Desert Sails
Urethane foam,
20in x 28in x 20in
Desert Sails developed out of these studies and is intentionally ambiguous while maintaining a formal composition.
It was sculpted in urethane foam which is quite soft and will need to eventually be molded and cast into a more permanent material like fiberglass or bronze.
Jim Graham
Misc. Sculptures
Urethane foam, resin, paint,
3in x 6in x 3in
These works are composition studies meant to be realized in a much larger scale. I've attempted to create forms that evoke a balanced tension while being both figurative and geological.
Shane
Hannibal Rex
Rotoscope,
16in x 20in
This is the beginning of a series that pays tribute to my friends, celebrating the dedication that defines their passions. For each subject—be it a chef, a wrestler, or an artist—I am creating a rotoscoped video depicting them fully engaged in their craft. I'm practicing the labor-intensive process of rotoscoping to mirror the immense commitment and time they invest in their work. This series allows me to celebrate the people I care about and hone my own skills in a new medium.
Kyle Kathman
Caricature of the Human Form
Ink on Canvas,
16in x 20in
Two incomplete works of art; one further in development than the other. One is unfinished due to trying new techniques and developing a new process of working with ink while the other was halted due to returning to an old medium and being paralyzed by fear that the finished product won’t look as good as it does in my head or as my former works. I have a lot of pieces unfinished in my home and often times work on several things at once. Many pieces never get completed but these two have been in development since the summer and have an importance for my artistic ventures; Exploring new forms of expression and returning to a neglected art form.
Kyle Kathman
Almost Punk Enough
Acrylic on canvas,
16in x 20in
Kyle Kathman is a local artist and Pediatric Nurse living in Covington. He uses art as a way to express himself and make sense of the world around him.
Matthew Boeing
OSHA is this okay?
Bronze, Plywood, Paper,
15in x 11in x 4in
This bronze hand was cast many years ago as an experiment in manipulating foundry wax and has moved with me from different shops and studios over the past decade. Having spent a majority of that decade in industrial spaces and around industrial metalworking machinery, I noticed that the mangled and unnatural shape of the hand resembles the imagery on common warning signs on industrial machinery. Paired with the signage, it becomes a humorous and grotesque commentary on otherwise serious warning labels.
Luke Lehenbauer (Luke Label)
Dancer
Sculpture,
9in x 9in x 5in
Luke Lehenbauer (Luke Label)
Flow
Sculpture,
18in x 20in x 2in
Luke Lehenbauer is a multidisciplinary contemporary artist from Cincinnati, OH. He has been creating variations of his figures since childhood, whether sketched in the corner of a textbook or across countless pages of a sketchpad. However, it wasn’t until later in life that he understood why these figures manifested so naturally. For Luke, they offer a space for mental respite, akin to drawing a maze to pass the time or calm the mind. They also allow him to express his internal feelings through movement and color, especially when writing proves difficult. It wasn’t until he began sharing these figures through murals, prints, and other media that he realized how much others connected with them, often in their own unique ways. The figures transcend gender, race, and age, focusing on everything from simple pleasures to the more complex experiences of life. For over a decade, Luke has also worked in the Motion Design and Animation field, where principles like Silhouette, Line of Action, and Appeal guide the creation of expressive and captivating motion. This influence is evident in his figures, whether they are dancing, skateboarding, or simply posed in a unique way. Occasionally, Luke wonders if the flow of ideas for these figures will cease, but for now, he continues to create them in every way he can.
Luke Lehenbauer (Luke Label)
Hang
Sculpture,
23in x 35in x 8in
At our core, when you pare us down to our silhouettes and the way we move—removing features like clothes, hair, makeup, birthmarks, and so on, which society often tells us define who we are—we find that we share many shapes and forms in common. While I’m not belittling those individual traits, I find it fascinating to explore what we share in movement and pose. Activities like hockey and skateboarding, or climbing and baseball—whatever you choose—fall into similar rhythms, just used in different ways. At the end of the day, the body can move in only so many ways, yet we use those ways so differently.
I like capturing the energy and feel of a pose rather than the literal action itself—the gesture, if you will. In animation, you loosely and quickly draw a gesture of a character to capture an action, which in turn gives a much more emotional and descriptive sense of the moment than if you copied it exactly. Once this is unlocked, you leave the audience free to interpret the piece for themselves, creating a full circle: stripping down a figure to ultimately reveal something deeply personal.