Brimming with knockabout energy, Arlene Shechet’s polymorphous clay sculptures at Sikkema Jenkins — exuberantly colored columns, clumps and sacks of glazed ceramic — feel almost illegitimate in their sensuality and humor, a reaction that immediately calls into question why a word like “illegitimate” would spring to mind in the first place.Continue Reading →
Sikkema Jenkins & Co.
Every once in a while a sentence comes along and energizes us with its singular lack of meaning, the tinny sound made by so many letters, marched into so many words, all profaning the artworks they are meant to elevate.Continue Reading →
I didn’t expect to write about the new show from Mark Bradford, who has been called by Guy Trebay of The New York Times “if not the best painter working in America today then certainly the tallest,” when I walked into Sikkema Jenkins on Tuesday morning. Despite the whimsy of Trebay’s “best/tallest” assertions, a credible case can be made for the former.Continue Reading →