Upon entering the ground floor atrium of Frank Lloyd Wrights Guggenheim Museum, its massive concrete ramps spiraling up toward the skylight, one encounters a towering mirror-covered cube supported by scaffolding elaborately rigged to one side of the museum.
Some artists who are on the margin of mainstream movements tend to get overlooked because they are somewhere in the penumbra of the action.
George Waterman’s collection of 20th-century art documentation, currently based for the most part in Manhattan, consists of approximately 40,000 books and cataloguesgrowing at an estimated rate of 4,000 to 5,000 items a yearas well as numerous cartons tightly packed with gallery and museum invitations, cards, and ephemera.
Just when I thought I’d figured out how to unravel the pretzel logic of Damien Hirst’s latest exhibition (he hires people to make lousy paintings, which means they’re actually really good paintings masquerading as lousy paintings, and the worse people think they are the better and more valuable they become?), I come across David Levi Strauss’s piece “Considering the Alternatives: Are ‘Artists’ Really Necessary?” in the April issue of the Brooklyn Rail.
Jeremy Gilbert-Rolfe: I was born in the south of England and went to art school and then to London University Institute of Education for a year before coming to America, in 1968, first to study at Florida State and then to New York, where I first showed a painting in a group show at O.K. Harris in 1971.
This project started as a way to document a pandemic. I wanted to narrow down the vastness of AIDS in Africa to one digestible chunk: a neighborhood. Though I have friends and loved ones there now, I was (am) an outsider, so I asked the people I was photographing to help me see what I was looking at.