New York City’s Lower East Side usually buzzes with heady nightlife and constant motion, but one crisp December afternoon, a serene hush greets anyone who steps inside Galerie Shibumi. Soft lights illuminate the polished floors, while minimalist furnishings guide the gaze toward the main attraction: painter Josie Girand’s new series, “The Trick.” Running from December 5 through January 5, it transforms stark white walls into passageways for the imagination. Ethereal female figures seem to beckon from shadowy backgrounds, delicate fairies hover just at the limits of perception, and misty, half-formed objects tease stories that linger on the tip of your tongue. It feels as if, by standing still, you might vanish into Girand’s subdued yet beguiling realm.

Long before anyone was calling her a breakout sensation, Girand could be found hunched over her easel in a communal studio near Galerie Shibumi. The gallery’s founder, Folana Miller, initially knew her only in passing—an amiable wave here, a hello there—until one day, Miller glimpsed Girand’s extraordinary works-in-progress. Something about those ghostly outlines and haunting color washes captivated her. Before long, Miller was pausing daily, fascinated by a painting taking shape: a lonely figure emerging from shimmering light, as though pulled straight from a half-remembered dream. Convinced she had found a singular vision, she offered Girand a show that would soon propel the artist into a broader spotlight.

Although she grew up amid Manhattan’s unending roar, Girand was never captivated by the city’s crowds or bright lights. Even as a child, she preferred hours alone with pencils and sketchpads, exploring how subtle strokes could breathe life into a face or outline a story in silhouette. Her mother’s features became an early study in capturing light, shadow, and emotion. While New York’s energy coursed through her surroundings, the soul of her art found its spark in solitary moments. Seeking a quieter environment, she studied at Kenyon College in rural Ohio, where she escaped the city’s frenetic pace and discovered a community that valued curiosity above competition. Free from commercial pressure, she sharpened her surreal, wistful style, guided by open spaces and supportive peers.

Girand’s early pieces were rooted in pencil work, yet her artistic trajectory changed about three years ago when she experimented with oil paints. Their blendability and depth opened new expressive worlds, letting her capture fleeting glimmers or subdued shadows with a mere brushstroke. She cites Leonora Carrington, Edward Hopper, Adrian Ghenie, and Anna Weyant as inspirations, and astute viewers may spot some borrowed elements—dreamlike shapes, moody stillness, or bold contrast—woven into Girand’s softly mysterious scenes. Even so, her canvases ultimately stand on their own, each one balanced between homage and fresh invention.

Central to “The Trick” is a storyline drawn from Girand’s personal experiences. A delicate protagonist becomes enchanted by a “cotton candy man,” so airy and sweet that he vanishes the instant her tears appear. Initially a reflection of Girand’s own heartbreak, the character evolved into a broader emblem of illusions and disappointments we’re sometimes too eager to chase. Lean, dreamy silhouettes and whispery pastels conjure the fragile sweetness of a short-lived romance. Rather than dictating a moral, Girand hopes these images leave space for viewers to attach their own longings or regrets, whether recalling a failed relationship or an abandoned fantasy.

Girand’s creative process can be feverish or painstaking. Sometimes a painting emerges in a single day, driven by a rush of inspiration. Other works unfold slowly over weeks, with layers of paint merging and shifting until the final image reveals itself. Priced between $900 and $4,400, her paintings draw both first-time buyers and longtime collectors, all intrigued by the subtle, introspective fragments that loom beneath her veil of color. When momentum falters, Girand says she returns to the human face. A single eye or the bow of a lip can spark a deeper story, guiding the brushstrokes that define every backdrop or hidden motif.

Look closely and you’ll notice hints of modern anxieties tucked into these dreamscapes. From consumerism to climate worries, Girand threads real-world unease into her fairy-tale universe. Rather than confronting us with crowded malls or melting ice caps, she hints at threats through atmospheric symbolism: a frail figure dwarfed by looming shadows, translucent objects drifting just beyond reach. The effect is subtle, more nudge than reprimand, encouraging viewers to wonder and reflect on the issues themselves.

In an age dominated by frenetic social media and nonstop digital chatter, Girand believes in the calming, reflective power of galleries. Walking into Galerie Shibumi, you sense time slowing, the hush allowing unspoken emotions to surface. Her canvases spark quiet dialogue about universal human experiences: heartbreak, hope, and the longing to feel connected. These fragile undercurrents, so easily drowned out by smartphone pings, glow softly in her scenes, reminding visitors that beneath our surface differences, our deepest struggles and desires are often the same.

Girand continues the conversation online by posting behind-the-scenes glimpses on Instagram (@rugratz4lyfe), where she fields questions about materials, technique, and symbolism, and welcomes the audience’s personal reflections. It’s a digital extension of her gallery approach—a gentle offer for viewers to share their interpretations and, in doing so, discover common emotional threads. The result is a sense of community through art, a reminder that each painting can serve as a bridge between the personal and the universal.

Ultimately, “The Trick” highlights the idea that heartbreak can unravel us yet reveal inner strength. Standing in front of Girand’s canvases, you might confront the echo of old regrets or the fresh bloom of resilience you’d forgotten you possessed. Every mist-shrouded figure and phantom light suggests that vulnerability and fortitude often exist side by side. If you make it to Galerie Shibumi before January 5, you’ll step into a liminal space where waking life and dream momentarily blur, and perhaps remember that sometimes the most profound stories are the ones whispered between the lines.