The BFA Shows are moments that have been building for four years.
At the School of the Art Institute of Chicago, it’s one of the few things most seniors share. No matter what department you’re in, or what kind of work you do, this is a checkpoint everyone talks about. First it’s a vague idea, then it starts creeping into every conversation, and then suddenly it’s happening.
The energy this year at the Spring BFA show was tense and tender. Work filled every room at SAIC Galleries at 33 E. Washington. There were huge sculptures and fragile books, paintings that took up entire walls, and videos playing on tiny old TVs. There was too much to take in, which somehow felt right.
What people don’t always see is how long it takes to get here. The BFA Show isn’t about the final product. Most of the work in the show is years of trying, starting over, making mistakes, and figuring out what you’re even trying to say. You could feel that in the pieces. They didn’t feel rushed or random. They felt like the result of someone staying with something for a long time.
During install week, the building was buzzing. People were climbing ladders, sanding walls, and trying not to cry over last-minute technical issues. Someone’s sculpture broke. Someone else forgot their USB. People borrowed hammers, shared snacks, and helped each other hang things straight. It was stressful, but beautiful in its mess.
Annette “NETTi” Thrappas made a pink figure stretched across a pile of flame-like ceramic forms. It was both funny and kind of sad, with googly eyes and weird limbs that felt like they might fall apart at any second. It looked how it feels to hold everything together during your last semester.
Alex Richtmeyer Rummel showed a group of large ceramic figures with muscular arms and empty eyes. They looked like ancient statues, but also like someone trying really hard to be strong.
Nicolle Garcia Granados made a quiet wall of tiles, each one pressed with different textures. Some looked like skin, some like rock. It was the kind of piece you don’t just look at. You feel it, even if you don’t touch it.
Yasmin Rosa Calomeno’s painting spelled out words like “Grow Up” and “Live More” in bold, carved lettering. The colors were bright, but the message felt heavy. You could tell it came from a place of remembering things people say to you when you’re young.
Laleh Schaeffer showed rows of small ceramic vessels, each one glazed slightly differently. They looked like science samples, but they were also clearly made by hand. There was something peaceful about how carefully they were arranged.
Aashni Shah’s “The Keeper’s Collection” takes the form of an Indian card game, reimagined as a quiet archive of memory and migration. Laser-printed cards in soft pastels carry symbols, landscapes, and short phrases that feel both poetic and personal. The piece invites reflection on inheritance and the small ways culture is carried, especially by those who live between places.
You walk through the gallery and realize how much everyone has grown. You recognize people you had classes with freshman year. Back then, they were unsure and quiet. Now their work takes up space. They’re making choices. You can see the confidence in how they install, how they talk about what they made.
There’s something unspoken in the air. Everyone knows this might be the last time we all show work in the same place. And even if we don’t say it out loud, there’s a quiet kind of respect in the room. We made it here and we got to do it together.
The BFA Show isn’t about being perfect. It’s about being seen. It’s a chance to say, this is what I’ve been working toward, even if I’m still figuring it out.
