Josh Smith: Destiny at David Ziwner Gallery
January 21, 2026 – March 7, 2026
519 W. 19th Street, New York
At David Zwirner’s West 19th Street space, Josh Smith returns to New York with Destiny, a show that feels both deliberately casual and oddly personal. The exhibition gathers paintings first shown in Los Angeles—images of Grim Reapers riding bicycles through the city—and repositions them where they arguably belong. In addition to the paintings shown in LA, Josh is debuting other works from the same series. Smith has long worked through repetition and blunt imagery, but here the motif clicks into place as something closer to a story: death in motion, weaving through familiar urban backdrops with neither menace nor moral.
The paintings announce themselves immediately with color. Reds dominate—thick, unsettled fields that press forward like a constant alert—while bicycles appear in sharp greens and electric blues, their geometry slightly off, their wheels never quite true. The Reaper, skeletal grin intact, is no longer an abstract symbol but a commuter, a visitor, a presence passing through.
In one painting, the figure rides along a waterfront railing with the Statue of Liberty glowing green in the distance. The scythe is raised, but without threat; it reads almost as an accessory, an emblem carried out of habit. The city behind him is recognizable yet unstable, its buildings stacked loosely, its water streaked with color rather than reflection. Smith’s brushwork is quick and uncorrected, allowing figures and architecture to wobble just enough to suggest speed. Death, here, doesn’t loom—it travels.
Another painting grows crowded and strangely intimate. Several Grim Reapers cluster around a red bicycle while white cats perch throughout the scene—on the frame, near the pedals, tucked against cloaks of dark paint. The composition tightens, looping the red of the bike across the surface like a binding line. Where the lone rider feels observational, this gathering feels social, almost domestic. The cats introduce a note of calm autonomy; they seem entirely untroubled by the presence of death, as if it were simply another condition of the room.
Across both works, bicycles do the heavy lifting. They suggest effort and balance, fragility and persistence. Unlike cars or trains, they require constant motion. Stop pedaling, and you fall. That vulnerability gives Smith’s Reapers a curious humanity, grounding the symbolism in physical labor and movement rather than finality.
In a statement accompanying the exhibition, Smith frames the show as a homecoming, writing, “So here they are. Back home for your viewing pleasure. These are tough paintings, and I made them for you.” The toughness lies not in bravado but in endurance. These paintings keep big ideas—death, destiny, the city—from freezing into icons. Instead, they move, wobble, and pass by, like everything else in New York.