What to do this weekend - July 24, 2025

"Masks" - Multiple artists. It's part of a new exhibit on display at the International Quilt Museum.

Hi,

Welcome to This Week In Lincoln, a newsletter about a city with so goddamn much art and music that it's impossible for one person to absorb it all.

I want to tell you about an exhibit I saw yesterday, but first a few odds and ends:

  • As usual, the bulk of this newsletter is a curated list of local events. There's plenty of cool stuff happening this weekend, next week, and next month. Go find something that interests you!
  • I want to shout-out the person behind the Mutual Aid Hedgehogs instagram account. They crochet beaded hedgehogs (I have one! they are cute!) and give them away for free at Mana Games and Bodhi Imports, though they encourage donations via Venmo. Each month, they highlight a different community organization and donate the funds they've received to that group. In July, they're supporting Nebraskans for Palestine.
  • Finally, this newsletter is free to read, but takes time and labor to produce. Consider upgrading to a paid subscription if you like what I'm doing here. And if you don't have the means, please share this newsletter with someone else in Lincoln. Your recommendations help more than you know.

A new exhibit asks: What do you carry with you from 2020?

The introductory text.

When I walked into the International Quilt Museum yesterday, I told the woman working the front desk that I was looking for "the Covid exhibit." I knew, on some level, that this wasn't fully accurate; I knew the museum's latest display wasn't just about the pandemic. But, consciously or not, that's clearly what I expected from an art installation explicitly about the year 2020.

To be sure, "Aftershock: The Long Shadow of 2020," which opened earlier this month, contains plenty of artwork about our collective experience of Covid-19. But it's more than just a retrospective on the ravages of death and disease. It's also an examination of that year's chaotic political climate; a reflection on the nationwide uprisings against police violence sparked by the murder of George Floyd; and a visual representation of the crushing emotional reality of surviving a tumultuous, endless year, one agonizing day at a time.

As the subtitle implies, one of the exhibit's major goals is to call attention to the fact that we're all still living in the aftermath of 2020. It's tempting to try and quarantine our own experiences, to pretend the year was, ultimately, just a detour from how the world is "supposed" to be. But "Aftershock" challenges its viewers, asking: What do you still carry from that time? What has stayed with you? These questions also invite their opposites: What are you trying to forget? What emotions and experiences have you buried or refused to grapple with?

This may seem like a silly example, but many of us have probably lost or thrown away our masks — perhaps the most visible and potent symbol of that era. Some folks, I'm sure, never want to see another mask ever again. But several of the artists featured in "Aftershock" did more than just get rid of these unpleasant reminders of painful memories: They repurposed old face coverings to create something new and striking.

I was especially captivated by Kristin La Flamme's "Masks 3/2020 - 6/2022," which recycles the actual cloth masks the artist wore at her retail job during those years to create a stunning visual gradient. The exhibit's introductory text talks about the way textiles are "objects of intimacy and memory," and La Flamme's piece is a concrete example of that. Fabric she wore in an attempt to protect herself is transformed into a material record of two years spent surviving in an inequitable economy, thus indexing the cruelty of a society that forces artists to work retail during a plague just to pay rent. It's a beautiful and painful piece.

"Masks 3/2020 - 6/2022" - Kristin La Flamme

I also appreciated the spatial design of "Aftershock" as a whole. While most of the quilts are displayed on the gallery walls, three of them hang from the ceiling and, as such, feel like they're in conversation with one another. One of the three, a wonderfully profane quilt titled "WTF," faces away from the gallery entrance. As you enter, all you see is a square of pure black suspended between two stylized symbols of American democracy. But walk around to the other side, and you'll find a colorful expression of artist Erika Mulvenna's personal feelings about, well, everything!

"This project," Mulvenna writes in an accompanying text piece, "pretty much sums up my feelings about the pandemic, racial injustice, and getting laid off from my already work-from-home job."

I love the implicit dialogue between Mulvenna's work and the other two hanging quilts — especially "Vote" by Elizabeth Ray. The latter is visually striking, but the message on its own feels rather hollow, particularly because it also hovers above the exhibit's artistic responses to Black Lives Matter, a stark reminder of the possibilities for collective action that go beyond just voting.

The direct confrontation between "WTF" and "Vote" — two very different exclamations — helps each contextualize the other. It's not enough to just vote, and it's also not enough to simply throw up your hands and surrender to nihilism. There was (and is) still value in political engagement, even when faced with the overwhelming horror, death, and violence of a year like 2020. But there is also something fundamentally absurd and broken about the existing apparatus of American civic life. It's okay to admit that, and sometimes the only appropriate response is to say, loudly: "WHAT THE FUCK."

"Aftershock: The Long Shadow of 2020" is on display at the International Quilt Museum until January 10, 2026. I've included more photos of the exhibit throughout the rest of this newsletter, but I encourage you to go see it in person.


Got an event you want to see included in next week's newsletter? Submit it here. You can also send feedback, suggestions, compliments and criticism to tynanstewart@proton.me

Thanks so much for reading.

~ Ty


Thursday, July 24

"Say Their Names" - Teresa Duryea Wong

Friday, July 25

"6' of Chaos" - Jill Kerttula

Saturday, July 26

An interactive component of "Aftershock."

Sunday, July 27

"It Takes a Village" - Liz Thanel

Things to do next week:

"Something Wicked This Way Comes" - Kathy Menzie

Things to do next month:

"Mouth Piece" - Jasmine Best

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