The Brooklyn Rail

A rare energy emanated from Asher Remy-Toledo, an energy that drew people into his orbit, spinning them in directions previously unimaginable. He was a master of connections, bringing people together, mixing the pot a bit, and then waiting to see what would happen. He knew who would spark and who would combust. It’s impossible to count the people, opportunities, and inspirations that trace back to Asher: exhibitions he curated, performances he produced, publications and residencies he made happen. He was always a bit surprised when credited, as if it was just what people do. But it is not what people do. It is what Asher did, and it was extraordinary.

Asher spent much of his life supporting and reshaping creative landscapes; opening a gallery in the early aughts that supported women artists, artists now credited as pioneers of feminism and conceptualism. He was also an early supporter of artists using technology.

Hyphen Hub, the shape-shifting organization that he co-founded in 2013 with Mark Bolotin and ran until his death in 2026, molded itself to the needs of the artist community he created and served. Originally housed in a space called “Red Door,” he produced cutting edge performances and events. As his community grew, both in numbers and geography, he met their needs by curating exhibitions, organizing salons, presenting lectures, and creating opportunities in Europe, Asia, and Latin America, as well as at home (literally, in his gracious apartment in New York City).

There was no end to Asher’s curiosity. We talked about things corporeal and ethereal, lived and imagined, theoretical and practical. His generosity was rooted in a kind of optimism; if he could just find the right door to open for someone, there was no limit to what they could achieve.

He traveled the world in search of new experiences and new connections. He’d find a way to seemingly be in multiple places at once so that he could support a project or a friend.

Asher loved technology and actively nurtured artists experimenting with breakthrough innovations. He would send videos of robotics, photos of cyber-prosthetics, or a new application of generative AI or XR. He embraced the messiness of humans and also challenged human-centered perspectives. Through all his curiosity, his quests for knowledge, his fearless speculations about possible futures—even when he wondered if humanity had evolved beyond its biological limitations, or he beyond his own—he still loved life. He loved his partner, his sons, his family, his friends; he loved adventures, new questions, and a reason to raise a glass in celebration. In the words of Iggy Pop, Asher had a “lust for life!”

I’ve been more than a little reluctant to face Asher’s death, holding tight to my denial. I still expect to receive his morning texts that just say “hi.”

Followed by, “are you around?”

No matter what I answered, the response would lead to a new connection, event or adventure.

As I’ve been gathering people’s tributes and remembrances, reading about the Asher I knew and miss dearly, I’ve also been reading about parts of Asher unknown to me. He gave each of us very special parts of himself that he knew we needed—parts that he needed to offer.

In the way that Asher seemed to be everywhere at once, I imagine him now in multiple dimensions: still making connections, orchestrating opportunities, and forever shining bright for those of us who loved him, and for generations to come.