Karen Rosenberg "Joanna Mailowska: A Hawk from a Handsaw." The New York Times September 19, 2013

333 Broome Street, between Bowery and Chrystie Street, Lower East Side Through Oct. 20 Although heavy-handed in its symbolism, Joanna Malinowska’s latest solo is a high-spirited exploration of the North American frontier and its uses and abuses by modernist artists. Mixing sculpture, video and performance, it makes clever, theatrical use of a space that’s cavernous by Lower East Side standards. The main component is a six-ton pile of dirt trucked in from the Yukon Territory, which nods obliquely to works by Robert Smithson and Walter de Maria but is mainly a set for a performance. (Visit the gallery at the right time, and you might see Ms. Malinowska panning for gold.) Nearby is another set, this one derived from Isamu Noguchi’s austere designs for the Martha Graham/Aaron Copland ballet “Appalachian Spring.” Titled “Bootleg Noguchi,” Ms. Malinowska’s version substitutes a crooked tree branch for the original production’s rectilinear wood frame. On video, a Russian composer reads aloud from Allen Ginsberg’s poem “America,” his strong accent and deadpan manner working against the ranting verse. This piece isn’t subtle — and neither is the giant papier-mâché bear, modeled on roadside monuments in the Yukon, that towers over the gallery — but both have a role to play in the Polish-born Ms. Malinowska’s affectionate skewering of cold-war-era pioneer myths.