To kick off the School of Visual Arts’ fall 2026 semester, students were greeted by a historic event: Brad Holland’s first posthumous American exhibition. Curator Jonathan Twingley selected paintings, drawings, sketches, posters and tear sheets from Holland’s overstuffed and currently uncatalogued storage facility that houses a lifetime of iconic finished and barely seen in-progress work.

It was a bittersweet experience for some. Those who loved him and his art were elated to have Holland recognized for the groundbreaking work he produced. But melancholy was palpably caused by his absence. Twingley placed Holland’s own words on labels posted throughout the gallery, which produced in me, at least, the sensation that he was in the room watching the attendees as they viewed and contemplated the images.

The criteria for inclusion was that only the framed work in the storage facility would be shown. Rather than a limitation, it was as though Holland had predetermined what should be included. Twingley simply had to give the exhibition curatorial cohesion. Surprisingly, it appeared that all of Holland’s evolutionary stages were represented, with the exception of his work at Hallmark Cards in the early ’60s (he once demanded that they never be seen in public, ever). Predictably, as it turned out, serious viewers who soaked up Holland’s various influences—from Goya to Baskin to Hopper and more—questioned the gap of some missing links in his development as an artist. And they were right.

When it came to expression, Holland had more sides than a polyhedron—each one a distinct personal visual language often created simultaneously. This aspect of his talents will certainly be one of the topics covered at the “Brad Holland: Making It Personal” panel at 6:45 p.m. Sept. 17 at the SVA Amphitheater, 209 E. 23rd St., which will answer the question the exhibition poses: How did he do all that brilliant work so damn flawlessly?

CYCLOPEDIA (1999). LaGuna College of Art & Design
(Pastel on handmade paper, 12 x 9in)