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Hyperallergic’s horoscopes offer astrological advice for artists and art types, in art terms, every month.
Aries (March 21–April 20)
At some point, every living artist has to answer the defining question of their era, and that time for you is now: Aries, what kind of Donald Trump art are you going to make? Are you of the more earnest and ominous persuasion, like the artist who put that fake Trump tombstone in Central Park? Do you fancy yourself a satirist, in the vein of Hanksy’s “Dump Trump” protest and paraphernalia? Or perhaps you’re more of a realist who leaves interpretation and analysis up to the beholder? Whatever your inclination, be decisive. Like the electorate, the art world detests flip-flopping.
Taurus (April 21–May 21)
On a recent trip to Italy (yes, we realize this is an absurd way to start a horoscope blurb), we came across a woman Renaissance painter we’d never heard of before and, upon returning to the US, tracked down a copy of the only book (now out of print, naturally) about her life. The book was very well researched but poorly written, and when we looked up the author to see what she had done subsequently, we discovered that she’d become an outspoken chemtrails conspiracy theorist. In a blog post written days before her death, she claimed that her ailing health was the result of intensified exposure to chemtrails and a government plot to assassinate her. What we’re trying to tell you, Taurus, is that some things are bigger than art — namely, the chemtrail conspiracy.
Gemini (May 22–June 21)
When future humans (or possibly extraterrestrials) look back on the current era of creativity, they will have plenty to discuss, from our obsession with selfies to our mania for 3D printing anything and everything. You know what they won’t consider characteristically early 21st century, though? Odes. We don’t create enough art, music, and literature paying homage to fleeting but transcendent aesthetic experiences, loved ones, and dead pets, and that’s a damn shame. Here’s your homework for April, Gemini: create an ode to a thing you love. Then hide it somewhere for the future humans to find.
Cancer (June 22–July 22)
Whoa, Tom Sachs is everywhere right now, Cancer! When did that happen? He’s holding tea ceremonies at the Noguchi Museum. He’s about to have a “Boombox Retrospective” at the Brooklyn Museum. There’s a documentary about his Park Avenue Armory piece in theaters. He’s currently enjoying the kind of ubiquity that lies within your reach this month. You have the energy to work around the clock and get so much done between now and April 30 — just be judicious in the types of projects to which you commit. Ubiquity can quickly turn into overexposure.
Leo (July 23–August 22)
Cupid is a mischievous fellow, but we don’t have to tell you that, Leo; you’re well acquainted with his whims. Sometimes he’s wielding his bow and love darts with impunity; other times he’s surreptitiously giving people love potions. Well, this month it’s payback time, because you will be fully in command of your romantic fortunes. Pick your favorite art historical depiction of Cupid getting his comeuppance — Pierre Mignard’s is ours, hands down — and keep that image in your mind until May.
Virgo (August 23–September 23)
Have you seen Karen Kilimnik’s show at 303 Gallery, Virgo? If not, you have until tomorrow to check out her goofy historical scenes sprinkled with stickers of cats and juxtaposed with ironic captions. Just know that the work really has to be experienced in unison: the collages would look silly and lose their power if shown individually, but taken together they make for a surprisingly strong ensemble. Keep that in mind when you face hardships this month — which you definitely will — and are tempted to call on your friends and loved ones for support. There’s power in numbers, and you should tap it.
Libra (September 24–October 23)
Surveillance seems to be the current cause célèbre among conceptual artists, but one of our favorites remains “Evidence Locker,” a 2004 project that Jill Magid carried out in collaboration with the agents behind Liverpool’s citywide surveillance system. It broke down the invisible barrier between those being watched and the shadowy forces doing the watching. As you’ve no doubt noticed over the last few days, Libra, you are also being watched, albeit in a less Orwellian and more romantic way. If you unmask your watcher this month, you’ll most likely be happily surprised.
Scorpio (October 24–November 22)
There are so many biennials nowadays, Scorpio, we thought it would be very amusing to find a city somewhere in the world named “Biennial” or “Biennale,” parachute in there, and launch a biennial. We could come up with a curatorial theme, team, and program later — that’s not important — just think of the hilarity of someone launching a “Biennale Biennale”! Alas, we couldn’t find a city, town, village, or even a lowly hamlet called “Biennial” or “Biennale.” So we’re shifting our energies toward founding the city of Biennale, New Jersey, sometime next year, and we want your honest opinion: do you think people would back that on Kickstarter?
Sagittarius (November 23–December 21)
There’s a valuable lesson waiting for you in Unfinished, the inaugural exhibition at the Met Breuer. Not the one about Eurocentrism and curatorial conservatism, although there is also that. But rather in the realization that sometimes failed or incomplete projects can be stronger than the finished product you set out to create. Bear that in mind this month, because most of your plans will go awry.
Capricorn (December 22–January 20)
We have this artist friend, Capricorn, who is convinced that virtual reality and Oculus Rift–type technologies are the future of contemporary art. Some people have told her that it’s just a fad, that VR devices are awkward and unwieldy, and that she should recalibrate her practice and quit this pipe dream of hers. What do you think? If you said she should keep working on her VR art projects, you answered correctly! This month you will face much adversity as you pursue your pie-in-the-sky projects, but do not give in to the naysayers.
Aquarius (January 21–February 19)
We’re very fond of Hiroshi Sugimoto‘s work, especially his photographs of theaters, their empty stages aglow in white light. The images have a kind of haunting energy and all the anticipatory power of the moment before a storm. They capture a sense of hushed calm, but also offer a space for anything to happen. Try to make your life like a Sugimoto theater photo this month, because toward the end of it something will happen and it will turn your world upside down — in a good way.
Pisces (February 20–March 20)
We’ve probably never told you this, because it’s one of our most closely guarded secrets, but we were once in a free jazz collective that used Thelonious Monk’s theories about composition to explore the aesthetics and imagery of Hieronymus Bosch. We were called, naturally, Hieronymus Monk, and when we performed each member of the collective wore a costume inspired by a figure from a Bosch painting. We’ve long been deeply embarrassed by this chapter from our past, but we’ve built a space of trust with you in which we’re comfortable sharing awkward anecdotes. This month, those closest to you will be looking for similar signs of intimacy and trust, so be prepared to share a shameful secret. Or just make one up — that’s what we did.
In a world delighted and entertained by displays of material excess, Diane Simpson shows that there is another possibility.
The animal carcass sculptures are gruesome yet their materials — the artist’s own discarded clothing — lend them some gentleness.
View work by over 40 experimental artists and collectives from throughout the Americas who contributed to New York’s art scene during the 1960s and ’70s.
Mr. Bernatowicz, in your introductory text you talk about the need for honesty, the disease of hypocrisy, overreaching governments. You do not fulfill a single one of your own ideals.
The biggest problem with turning Dune into a film is that the book appears increasingly derivative of generic sci-fi tropes.
This exhibition explores how images of the human body were used to provoke profound physical and emotional responses in viewers from the 15th through 18th centuries.
Ed Roberson’s motorcycle ride from Pittsburgh to the Pacific is a quest-romance, an exploration of American culture and American mythology.
The collaborative handmade paper- and printmaking center at the Pennsylvania Academy of the Fine Arts publishes new works by Liz Collins and Sarah McEneaney.
The legendary performer amassed a collection of about 10,000 rare books, posters, and artwork about all things esoteric.
The proceeds will benefit the BDC’s community-centered initiatives and exhibitions.