More Articles...
Print
After A Self-Portrait by Francis Picabia
by John Yau
Photo by Nadia Chaudhury.A french fry sticks its tongue out at you
Blue, swollen, unfathomable
As hot air stirs local economy
The carbuncle mayor invites your double to join his delicious nightmare
Blue, swollen, unfathomable
Stuck on scraps of an umbrella
The carbuncle mayor invites your double to join his delicious nightmare
This is not the landscape painting I ordered from The Optimist Factory
Stuck on scraps of an umbrella
A phantasmagorical ode to human suffering
This is not the landscape painting I ordered from The Optimist Factory
A phalanx of lackeys entering backwards
A phantasmagorical ode to human suffering
Written by a mechanical pencil known as “The crimson moon kimono”
A phalanx of lackeys entering backwards
I started drawing children clapped in moldy fireplaces
Written by a mechanical pencil known as “The crimson moon kimono”
I drive a car as big as a wolf’s ravenous eyes
I started drawing children clapped in moldy fireplaces
Excellent mental symptoms occur at the boundaries
I drive a car as big as a wolf’s ravenous eyes
A french fry sticks its tongue out at you.
Excellent mental symptoms occur at the boundaries
As hot air stirs local economy
RECOMMENDED ARTICLES
Francis Picabia: Our Heads Are Round so Our Thoughts Can Change Direction
by Jason RosenfeldDEC 16-JAN 17 | ArtSeen
Francis Picabia (1879 – 1953), whose mother was French and whose father was a Cuban-born Spaniard, also described himself as being both Italian and American, and his art is no less polyvalent. MoMA’s monstrous, thought-provoking, and at times thrilling survey—with its formidable catalogue—demands focus, commitment, and an open mind; and provides everything you need to assess this unsung hero of an undefined modernism. Best known as an associate of Alfred Stieglitz’s 291 Gallery and a progenitor of New York proto-Dada around World War I, Picabia is newly revealed in this retrospective of 241 works, exploring the artist’s entire career through oils, drawings, printed publications, film, associations with music, theater, and dance, enamel paintings, photo-based work, spoken word compositions, and correspondence.
M. NourbeSe Philip, She Tries Her Tongue, Her Silence Softly Breaks
by Elizabeth WillisAPR 2017 | Critics Page
slipping like an old machine between “anguish” and “English”
Hiwa K: Blind as the Mother Tongue
by Yasaman AlipourNOV 2018 | ArtSeen
Hiwa K’s experimental art meditates on everyday life of his hometown, Sulaymaniya, a Kurdish city that is stuck by the border of Iran and Iraq—historically burdened by the turmoil of two oppressive nation-states yet robbed of its own nationhood.
Frank Bowling: Make It New
by Nicole MillerNOV 2018 | ArtSeen
Standing in front of Frank Bowling’s Regatta (2017), I want to wade into its hazy expanse, shimmering with electric pink, marine blue, tangerine, and flecks of silver, and to tongue the lozenges of beeswax dropped on the canvas like a line of boats.
RSS