“Do you get vertigo?” the curator of the exhibition asks me as she pulls open the Velcro seam of the inflated blob. Inside, the nylon fabric lifts around me, plumped by an air stream pumped in near the floor.
Eschewing the criticality of the minimalist sculpture around him in the late ’60s and early ’70s, Jack Whitten, primarily known as a painter, embarked on a course of aesthetic discovery aimed at producing sculpture that radiated the energy of collective memory and reflected the power of various individuals, living and dead, to whom he chose to pay tribute through his work.
Although this grouping of cast objects demonstrates the artist’s long-standing fascination with materials and reproduction, a room full of them can feel like monuments—anonymous and easy to dismiss. But maybe that is the point, to look closely past surface meanings.
Miguel Trelles’s paintings are an amalgam of strikingly different cultures and traditions. Inevitably, the work concerns the borrowing of other painting histories. The subject matter is the Caribbean landscape and the indigenous culture of Trelles’ native Puerto Rico, as well as the Chinese landscape legacy of mountains, streams, and trees.
On the day I visited Arthur Jafa’s exhibition at the Julia Stoschek Collection, Berlin, there was a woman dancing in the gallery. She hugged the left-hand wall of the second room, jerking her hips from side to side as if she were in one of the city’s many nightclubs.
Warren’s work is overwhelming, eccentric, outside the bounds of the normal, but it is not crazy. In fact, Warren performs carnivalesque realities no less insane than our own.
Thinking Collections: Telling Tales is the first U.S. survey dedicated to the Kazakh art collective Kyzyl Tractor. Kyzyl Tractor is an avant-garde art collective established in the mid ’90s in the wake of the liberating reformations of Perestroika.
The lobby of Anton Kern’s Upper East Side townhouse gallery has been transformed into a dimly lit room housing a dilapidated shack made from corrugated tin; a floor to ceiling curtain onto which a looped fragment of film is projected hangs opposite the shack.
Marx for Cats, a new collaboration by Caroline Woolard, Or Zubalsky, and Leigh Claire La Berge, is taking the relation between the internet and its favorite species, the cat, to the next level.
There are two statues of Peter Stuyvesant—one in Jersey City and one in Manhattan’s Stuyvesant Square—among the seven monuments photographed by Hew Locke for his 2018 “Patriots” series.
Walking into Juan Pablo Langlois’s exhibition Afterwards no one will remember, at Cindy Rucker gallery, was like entering a box of Dantean episodes.
Active since the late 1980s, Suzanne Bocanegra is possibly best known for her “artist lectures,” where the well-worn, sober ritual of the professional artist is set on its ear by conscripting a professional actor (for example, Frances McDormand and Lili Taylor) to stand in for Bocanegra in front of a live audience while the ‘real’ Bocanegra feeds them lines in real time from the side.
Ann McCoy is a passionate defender of the spiritual in art, particularly what Henry Corbin, in his treatise on the Andalusian Sufi Ibn Arabi, called creative imagination, or, as Ibn Arabi would have put it, “seeing with the heart.”
Beverly Fishman’s high gloss surfaces have an inscrutable beauty. The shape and color of each work looks both estranging and familiar, and whilst the combinations of sometimes acidic or synthetic color entrance, they do not comfort.
In her show at the Rubber Factory, In the Name of Hypersurface of the Present, Umber Majeed employs a deft mixture of sly humor and wry critique to imagine a revisionist, feminist version of Pakistan’s development as a nuclear power.
The fourteen works on view are paintings with small videos projected onto them. The paintings are of interiors, usually a bit dark and slightly melancholic in atmosphere, that are illuminated by bright windows with curtains.
Although lacking the transparency of a blown glass or the tensile strength of a metal, clay has many unique qualities of its own—for example, a pliability that makes it responsive to a maneuvering touch that can render its texture both rough and smooth.
In these two shows gallery visitors have the opportunity to view two very different, but very gifted artists.
It isn’t often that new works emerge from the depths of artists’ archives, but when they do, viewers are offered new perspectives on an artist’s work. This is the case with never-before exhibited video documentations of Minoru Yoshida’s New York performances, at Ulterior Gallery.
Mahmoud Khaled’s debut U.S. exhibition at Helena Anthrather Gallery is littered with personal confessions hiding in plain sight.
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.
In his essay “The Paranoid Style in American Politics,” the historian Richard Hofstader labeled entire groups as pathological based on their inclinations to see events through the lens of conspiracy.
No curatorial task is more difficult than assembling an international survey exhibition. If in Pittsburgh, the task is further complicated by the history of the Carnegie Museum and its Internationals.
With this first American large-scale exhibition of Hilma af Klint’s profoundly moving art, it is as though a needle has been lifted from a well-worn record called “the entrenched history of abstraction,” and any attempts to place the needle back into the grove will henceforth prove difficult.
After the death of the artist and poet Joe Brainard in 1994, his friend, the poet John Ashbery, recovered an envelope of paper cuttings Brainard had collected for use in collages. The envelope was a posthumous message for Ashbery and reminded him of the collages he had made while spending time with Brainard and the poet James Schuyler in the 1970s. For Ashbery, who died in September 2017, the envelope was a fond reminder of his friend and signaled a return to his work as a collagist.
Perhaps, as Singerman suggests in the catalogue, the curator disliked her works “because he saw himself portrayed in them”—as (in the words of Michele Wallace) “white, old, decadent, empty and dead.” This is largely speculation. But there is no such thing as pristine vision, as Acts of Art and Rebuttal in 1971 makes so clear.
In Western Painting--Magnasco James Hyde makes a brilliant case for abstraction—as long as we understand what he means by that idea.
The word “life” is a fine title for any exhibition because, in the end, isn’t everything surrounding us simply life? But in the case of Gillian Wearing’s Life, which is the largest exhibition of the artist’s work by a U.S. institution, it proves to be a perfectly fitting title right from the beginning.
The invitation to the Color Curtain Project’s inaugural dinner featured a photograph of the Jakarta, Indonesia airport in 1955, with a crowd of bodies standing on an airfield festooned with flags unfurling into agitated, electric air.
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.
Few canvases contain so much quiet dazed-out playful drift with such attention to minutia.
Ramirez Jonass artwork and essay shape this exhibitionary exploration of loss—how artists reckon with it, or even attempt to restore or repair it.
Coinciding with MoMA’s Judson Dance Theater: The Work Is Never Done and Paula Cooper Gallery’s 50 Years: An Anniversary exhibition, Peter Moore: 1968 is just that: a collection of photographs taken in a single remarkable year by the ubiquitous Moore (1932 – 1993) of Judson artists such as Yvonne Rainer and Steve Paxton as well as a number of their downtown bohemian peers ranging from Philip Glass to Charlotte Moorman and others.
If one were to choose one central theme of the show it would be silence and its more active partner, silencing.
A bleached and fractured world surrounds the artist. To organize this mess of corrosion into patterns, grids, and subdivisions is an aesthetic process that has scarcely been touched,” explained Robert Smithson in his 1968 essay “A Sedimentation of the Mind: Earth Projects.”
The Metropolitan Museum of Art is giving the French Romantic Eugène Delacroix (1798–1863) the full historical treatment accorded an old master: generously sized, darkened galleries; deep, jewel-tone walls; and over 150 spot lit works.
Hugh Haydens Border States brings Americas domestic architecture to life in a series of seven painstakingly carved and pointedly macabre wooden sculptures.
The four-person artist collective AES+F creates universes that are as familiar as they are foreign and as appealing as they are grotesque. Having actively exhibited since solidifying as a collective in 1995, the Moscow-based Tatiana Arzamasova, Lev Evzovich, Evgeny Svyatsky, and Vladimir Fridkes use actors, models, and a narrative often rife with political and sexual innuendo in their work. They aggregate content for what ultimately results in an engaging, cinematic experience.