Time has caught up with Judith Bernsteins art. Trained in the early 1960s at Yale, Judith moved to New York and soon became a founding member of the A.I.R. Gallery.
Just for the record, these paintings are not by the comedian Robin Williams. But this young artist does share some of the verve and originality of her coincidental namesake, making for a visually entertaining exhibition.
At first glance, the work in the concurrent shows of Rebecca Purdum and Matthew Fischer is diametrically opposed in vision and temperament. Purdums paintings are vast, seemingly monochromatic color fields and Fischers are colorful jumbles of bold strokes.
In the exhibition catalogue for Lin Tianmiaos Bound Unbound, a grainy photograph from 1995 shows the installation work Proliferation of Thread Winding in its original context, a bare cement-walled apartment. A twin bed occupies most of the cramped and dimly lit room.
For those readers not spending time around adolescent girls, the shows title, Pretty Little Liars, refers to an insanely popular book and television series about a group of high school girls who lie their way through a murder investigation.
For many Chinese artists, their countrys long, illustrious, and in some ways hide-bound visual traditions are an elephant in the studio when it comes to making contemporary art.
Just in case anyone out there is still arguing about form versus function in ceramics, Kathy Butterly’s recent exhibit settles the score: form has won. These 12 small scalebut not diminutivepieces make the argument cogently.
As might be expected of any grande dame, Joan Snyders recent paintings are extravagant, dramatic, sexy, and somewhat at risk of becoming sentimental caricatures of themselves.
Charline von Heyls paintings share the qualities of a ballet dancereffortless grace with the help of discipline and serious muscle. First, a word about the muscle: the works are all large (typically around six square feet), and the canvases assert a palpable degree of authority, even in the context of a very spacious gallery.
Wandering through the New York portion of Damien Hirsts global extravaganza Spot Paintings, I found myself thinking of Dutch tulips and sub-prime mortgages.
Is it possible to be punched in the gut by a flower? This is the feeling provoked by Pageant (2013), the first painting that comes into view as one enters Gregory Amenoffs recent show of paintings and drawings.
Obsessive and compulsive are two words that immediately and inevitably come to mind when one views Lori Ellisons work. While apt, these words alone do not do her art justice.
Like his toddler son, Ben La Rocco spends a lot of time trying to understand how things fit together. In the case of the father, its not stacking cups, but bigger things, like the cosmos, or form and color. His recent show is the manifestation of this struggle.
Patrick Wilson is on a self-professed quest for beauty in the realm of color and form. His search takes him back to 20th-century abstract colorists and reaches forward into contemporary, technology-dominated, urban life. Such rigorous study of color relationships, careful observation of artificial and natural light, and references to technological motifs yield complex and sublime results.
Luciers recent installation is a pared-down, elegant affair, which in its apparent simplicity belies a wealth of layered perceptions.
As the title of the current exhibition suggests, Time-Lapse showcases pieces that either address the subjective experience of time or rely expressly on the passage of time to achieve full realization. Works accrue gradually, offering visitors a unique viewing experience every day, if not every minute.
The paintings, sculpture, and video in this exhibition seem like an unnaturally contained drop in the bucket compared to the explosive output of Matthew Ritchies on-going residency at Bostons Institute of Contemporary Art.
In his first solo show in New York, Jorge Queiroz throws down the gauntlet and challenges the viewer to work. With his eerie and disjointed imagery, this Berlin-based, Portuguese artist determinedly reminds us that his creations are about the act of looking, and all that entails in a post-Freudian world.
Years ago, I bought a postcard of a Louise Bourgeois artwork that still hangs in my studio. In scratchy, uneven handwriting, she had written, “Art is a guaranty of sanity.” For Bourgeois, that special master of spinning art from torment, it may refer to her process of creation. But it is also a reminder of art’s power to affect its viewers.
As Justice Potter Stewart once said in reference to hard-core pornography, I know it when I see it. Like pornography, art is difficult to define and can mean different things to different people.
The story doesnt get off to a promising start. It begins with a road rage incident on the opening night of Eric Fischls 1986 Whitney retrospective. Is this going to be a Jay McInerney-esque, drug-addled tale of the 80s? Or will it be a self-conscious confessional, as foreshadowed in the next chapter detailing Fischls painful suburban childhood? Its unclear whether the book is going to be an entertaining beach read or a satisfying insight into the mind of a commercially successful, deep-thinking, and influential artist.