Articles

Astrological Aesthetics: March 2015 Horoscopes

Pieter Bruegel the Elder, "Big Fish Eat Little Fish" (1557) (Metropolitan Museum of Art, via Wikimedia Commons)
Pieter Bruegel the Elder, “Big Fish Eat Little Fish” (1557) (Metropolitan Museum of Art, via Wikimedia Commons)

Welcome to Hyperallergic’s new horoscopes — offering astrological advice for artists and art types, in art terms, every month.

Pisces (February 20–March 20)

We hate giving good people bad news, but this is the month, Pisces, when the sword of Damocles that’s been hanging over your head comes down, in the form of gentrification. It’s not all bad, though, because it’s more like the sword of Holofernes, and you are Judith in Artemisia Gentileschi’s gnarly decapitation painting, getting your hands dirty. Now’s the time to move out of that cramped, cold, and crowded studio you’ve been sharing in Bushwick and strike out on your own, settling into something more grown-up and stable. While you’re at it, get an assistant — or at least an intern.

Aries (March 21–April 20)

This is a month for career boosting, Aries, and you know what that means: you need to make yourself ubiquitous at the Armory Week fairs. Ideally you already have several or all of the following lined up: a solo booth a Volta; a tasteful peppering of works at Pulse and the Armory Show (but not to the point of obnoxious, Julian Opie — level saturation); an installation at Spring/Break; and a few pieces in a concurrent group show in Chelsea for the really intrepid collectors. Just, for Piss Christ’s sake, don’t get caught showing at Scope.

Taurus (April 21–May 21)

This month, in all things related to work and business, you will be unstoppa-bull. Upgrade galleries. Apply for grants, residencies, and grad schools. Things will go so well, Taurus, you’ll even do some charity work — try donating some art to a benefit auction or gifting a few pieces to your favorite museum. Or, if you’re feeling really successful and generous, why not build a private museum? We’re sure your city, borough, or neighborhood could use a Broad Museum of its own.

Gemini (May 22–June 21)

The world is your oyster this month, Gemini, just don’t end up like Venus in that famous Botticelli painting, standing naked for all to see. Most things will go your way, from long-term solo projects to quick collaborations, so long as you keep your addictions in check. Do we have to spell it out for you? The stars are telling you not to drink so much at exhibition openings.

Cancer (June 22–July 22)

Good news, Cancer: both Mars and Venus will be in your house of career through March 17, which is basically like having a tag team of Larry Gagosian and Jeffrey Deitch working for you. You’ll emerge victorious from the challenges you face in the first half of the month, either through sheer force and cunning or through charm and seduction. Just don’t get carried away in the second half of the month and start praising celebrities’ awful art.

Leo (July 23–August 22)

We don’t know what to tell you, Leo. On the one hand, March is a great time for you to be traveling, applying to art schools and residencies, and catching up on all the shows you’ve been missing — not to mention the Armory Week marathon. But your health is more vulnerable this month than it will be at any other time in 2015. You’re basically like Michelangelo’s “David”: brimming with inner life and energy, but also susceptible to invisible tremors that could cripple you.

Virgo (August 23–September 23)

“As beautiful as the chance encounter of a sewing machine and an umbrella on an operating table.” That line was written by the Uruguay-born French poet Comte de Lautréamont and cited ad infinitum by the Surrealists when they embarked on their exquisite corpse projects. This month is going to be a trying one for you, Virgo, but you’ll pull through thanks to your friends and colleagues. Maybe it’s time to round up some sewing machines and umbrellas, and initiate an exquisite corpse project of your own.

Libra (September 24–October 23)

Wow, the romance section of your chart is like a Betty Tompkins exhibition this month, Libra. Now is a good time to be promiscuous and kinky, both in love and in your practice. Try new techniques, embark on new collaborations, do studio visits, and get your hands — or whatever part of your body you use to make work — dirty.

Scorpio (October 24–November 22)

Oh, Scorpio, you will be at your most stereotypically Scorpian in March: exceptionally susceptible to romantic and aesthetic whims, so be sure to surround yourself with worthy sources of inspiration — steer clear, for instance, of the exhibition of Björk’s “art” at MoMA. In terms of your career, just try to stay the course, as unexpected complications will invariably arise. If you can weather the hardships you’ll emerge victorious; if not, you will fare no better than a dancer in the dark, singing and stomping while her world crumbles around her.

Sagittarius (November 23–December 21)

This will be a good month to exercise, Sagittarius, both artistically and physically. Hit the gym, hit the studio, expand the range of media and techniques you use, consider getting something fabricated. We hate to say it, but you should channel Jeff Koons pumping iron in the buff in Vanity Fair.

Capricorn (December 22–January 20)

Do you know the Tumblr Mise en green? It posts installation photos of exhibitions that feature potted plants, flowers, and landscaping of various sorts, whether as components of the art or elements of the gallery’s architecture. We’d recommend following it, Capricorn, because it will green up your feed a little. As a matter of fact, you seem like you could use a little something to spruce up your life in general, something you could tend to that would give you more purpose, pride, and pleasure. You should start a Tumblr.

Aquarius (January 21–February 19)

You’ll be wheeling and dealing this month, and not always in the most gracious manner, but, like an unwilling participant in a performance by Marvin Gaye — formerly Spartacus — Chetwynd, you’ll pull through, Aquarius. Just be sure that when you are summoned by a minion in a vaguely crustacean costume to pass into Chetwynd’s big, foamy, vagina dentata contraption — or its equivalent, for the purposes of this extended metaphor — you stay as cool and calm as Linda Yablonsky did when we watched her do the same at the New Museum in 2011.

comments (0)