In 2009 the Museum of Modern Art made a major announcement concerning its displays that was dutifully reported by the New York Times: the chief curator of painting and sculpture, Ann Temkin, had decided to remove the frames from the museums collection of Abstract Expressionist paintings, thus freeing the paintings from the domestication of the gallery space.
Artist Jo Baer speaks with Rail ArtSeen editor Amanda Gluibizzi about her two exhibitions at Pace Gallery, The Risen and Originals, playing with space, and how she wants her work shown.
Michael Joo speaks with Amanda Gluibizzi about liminal space, the physicality of his performance works, and his scientific research methods.
Appearing simultaneously at the 2019 edition of the Venice Biennale and this fall at Paula Cooper Gallery, Christian Marclays 48 War Movies (2019) and an accompanying series of woodblock prints called Screams (all 2018 or 2019) testify to the strangely complex relationship we have with war and its imagery.
In her first solo exhibition at Lisson Gallery, Pousette-Dart has included larger-scale paintings alongside vivid 12-inch square gouache and acrylic studies that at first glance look like they mimic the paintings, before going their own ways, and similarly-sized fuzzy sumi ink sketches that have seeped into the weave of their rice paper grounds.
Materiality, finish, the artists hand or lack thereof, and the imitative potential of sculpture: Ray is, in this installation of his work and its important bronze precedents, presenting a philosophical discussion of sculptural possibility. In his essay, Ray asks, Does my mime sleep, or does he mime sleep? and his question is justified: sculpture can only ever mime the real.
Throughout Wardrobe Test, we encounter women trying things on: costumes, other voices, new or different personae. And yet despite, or even through, this garb, we also witness glimpses of what we have to assume or hope to believe is the person within, the compassionate collaborator and mourner, the artist as empath, the woman of faith above all else.
The best decision Bell has made is to bevel his edges. Throughout, the bevels bisect fields, color, and visitors, acting as zips that direct the eye and project us around the room. Perhaps most important of all, they let Bells contours be sharp, soft to the touch but sharper than glass has ever been.
Having spent time with the newer works currently on display at Sperone Westwater, I suspect that they might be his most searching philosophical inquiries. That they were undertaken at moments of career retrospection, recovery from illness, and the care of and mourning for a partner make the underlying melancholy that I somehow always feel when reading Wittgenstein that much more palpable.
The visitor enters the gallery and is immediately confronted not by Rakowitzs recreations of Nimruds sculptures but with the backs of their supports. Each of the five panels is displayed in a surround made of wooden two-by-fours, the material recalling nothing so much as shipping or storage crates, the temporary housing of artifacts unearthed (or stolen) from their archaeological environments to be removed to new homes for study or display.
Carnwaths large-scale paintings feature her personal vocabulary of faces, vases, candlesticks, sinking ships, blocks of color, and constellations, while placing written messages squarely in front of her viewers. Notably, Carnwath also scrawls the titles of her paintings down the left and right edges of her canvases which she always displays unframed, something I wanted to learn more about.