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2026 May Fiber Picks: Starling Skies

Starling Skies: An Art Show with Trans Kids & Adults

Part of the Trans Art Fest

On view: Starling Skies at Puffin Brooklyn, 227 5th Ave, Brooklyn, NY 11215
Gallery hours: Tuesday, Thursday, Saturday, and Sunday, 11am - 5pm
Closes May 17th, 2026

Events to keep an eye out for at Puffin Brooklyn:
A Night of Youth Readings and Performances to Celebrate the Closing of Starling Skies: An Art Show with Trans Kids and Adults! on Sunday May 17th, 5:00 pm – 6:30 PM

Illustrations by young people in the community of POGEK (Parents of Gender Expansive Kids).

"Starling Skies gives love to trans kids by showing their art alongside art by trans adults. A small creature when alone, starlings come together in thousands to create complex and mesmerizing shapes that flicker and evolve, confusing and intimidating predators. We hope this exhibition can be one place where our community flocks around trans kids to support and protect them, while also offering them a chance to shine in their full, splendent power."

The exhibition features artworks by Camille Calegari, Al Dettmann, Aly Frasier Diaz, Drue Leahy, El Lang, Sunny Allis, Wallace dos Santos, Dany Greene, Milo Godfrey, Aoife Smith, Jamie Wild, & kids, families, & community of POGEK (Parents of Gender Expansive Kids). In this article, I'll walk you through some of the thoughts that occurred to me while spending an afternoon visiting Starling Skies.

Rachel dawns Sunny Allis's Wearable Sculptures, 2025, paper maché, cardboard, and acrylic paint, varying dimensions. Photo by Geovanni Barrios.

Sunny Allis's Wearable Sculptures—two hands, two eyes, what might be a nose, and a smiling mouth—welcomes you through the window of Starling Skies. The beaming face is hard to miss and reminded me of the pleasure of craft. I thought back to the days when I'd douse my hands in craft glue, wait for it to dry, and proceed to peel off my new dermis. Rachel (my lovely model) mentioned that just prior to my visit, the sculptures came to life at the hands of a class of 4th graders. I wish I had seen it for myself. The whimsy of the sculptures is a wonderful lure.

Al Dettman (they/them), To: all the boys who were girls first, 2026, indigo, cyanotype, quilting and embroidery on linen, 48 × 30 inches. Photo by Geovanni Barrios.

Upon entering the space, my eyes darted across the hall to the beautiful quilt by Al Dettman. Titled To: all the boys who were girls first, the work foregrounds the narrative potential of both photography and quilting, weaving together stories that stretch across time—and even the cosmos. On either side of the quilt, Dettman constructs a layered visual and textual archive, inviting us to move between scales of existence.

With a helpful hand, I read through Total Eclipse on the reverse side of the quilt. The journal entry considered the smallness of self and the bigness of the universe. What lingered most was the quiet realization that every person who entered the exhibition had, at some point, experienced that same moment of totality together. Through the photo-chemistry of cyanotype, Dettman gestures toward the enduring nature of transition, rendering it as both intimate and expansive. The work suggests that transformation—personal or cosmic—unfolds on a continuum as timeless and profound as celestial alignment itself.

Dany Greene (they/them), A Monster of Monsters, 2026, linen and cotton fabric, thread, batting, 27 × 18½ inches. Photo by Geovanni Barrios.

Primed for constellations, I sauntered back to Dany Greene's A Monster of Monsters. In reading Greene's poem, the construction of every stroke of every letter reminded of the Nazca Lines in Peru. The ancient geoglyphs etched into the earth and only perceptible from the heavens. Greene's work stirred within me the same impulse: to look upward, outward, beyond the limits of my body. It traced a persistent longing for the stars. But while stars light the way for dreams and futures, the night sky also presents ample opportunity for the monstrous—for what shifts and refuses to be fixed. Beneath its flickering expanse, transformation is not only possible, but inevitable. I found myself recalling the folklore of Central and Latin America of the Nahuales, or shapeshifters, who slip between human and animal form under the cover of darkness. In their stories, as in Greene's poem, the boundaries of self and other become porous.

Jamie Wild (they/he), Untitled (plates), 2024, upcycled plates and waterslide decal, 8 × 8 × ¾ inches. Photo by Geovanni Barrios.

Unapologetic in its renderings of the trials and tribulations of the lives of our trans community members, friends, and loved ones, this exhibition is one for the books. What emerges is a constellation of experiences, pulsing in relation to each other. There are so many incredible works that I'd like to write endlessly on, but I'll leave you to explore the exhibition for yourself. From Jamie Wild's Untitled (plates) to Milo K Godfrey's What's Yours?, Starling Skies is a living record—vivid with the vigor of lives fully, fiercely lived.

Detail of Milo K Godfrey (they/them), What's Yours?, 2025, wool yarn, 49 × 22 inches. Photo by Geovanni Barrios.

There is plenty of programming to enjoy for the rest of the month of May through the Trans Art Fest. Please see their website for more information on upcoming exhibitions and events.

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