Nicolas Auvray Gallery is pleased to present Sensitive Material, an exhibition by Claire Gilliam in Chelsea, featuring her ongoing Ink on Paper series begun in 2020.

In Sensitive Material, Gilliam continues her long-standing exploration of visual language through the use of the Latin alphabet as both subject and structure. Employing repetition, distortion, and abstraction, she transforms a familiar system of communication into a charged visual field. What begins as a habitual, universal gesture—writing—evolves into a deeply personal and psychological language, reflecting memory, past conversations, and lived experience.

Developed during a period of global crisis and political upheaval, the series responds to the instability of language in contemporary society. As words and information are increasingly manipulated, fragmented, and weaponized, Gilliam’s drawings examine themes of identity, communication, truth, and distortion. Each work operates as a form of intimate exchange—suggesting private messages, vulnerable confessions, or sacred conversations—meant to be approached with care.

Gilliam’s process is intuitive and physical. Originally initiated as a way to retrain her non-dominant, partially paralyzed right hand, the repetitive act of drawing the alphabet became a meditation on learning, literacy, and perception. Over time, the works have loosened in composition, shifting from rigid structures toward rhythmic, conversational marks that echo the sound, emotion, and disfluency of human communication.

While rooted in personal experience—including Gilliam’s early speech therapy and encounters with language loss—the work maintains a universal resonance. Sensitive Material invites viewers to bring their own histories, emotions, and interpretations, foregrounding connection as both fragile and essential.

Gilliam’s practice is informed by abstraction and artists such as Joan Mitchell, Agnes Martin, Helen Frankenthaler, Cy Twombly, and Sol LeWitt, as well as literature and music. Through this series, she reframes the alphabet not as a tool of clarity, but as a site of vulnerability, resistance, and human presence.