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Hyperallergic’s horoscopes offer astrological advice for artists and art types, in art terms, every month.
Gemini (May 22–June 21)
We are loathe to ever suggest using Tino Sehgal as the true north in your astrological navigations — mostly because, as journalists, his strictly enforced no-photo policy frequently makes our lives hellish — but damn it, Gemini, this month you need to slow down, take in your surroundings, and make your decisions based on the evidence right in front of you. Given your star chart for June, Sehgal occupies the perfect spot on the impulsive-to-scripted performance art spectrum, somewhere between the tortuously orchestrated embodiment of the Abramović Method and confrontational unpredictably of Clifford Owens. Revel in the endless sequence of “constructed interactions” known as life!
Cancer (June 22–July 22)
Who gets to be top Guerrilla in the Guerrilla Girls? How does the Bruce High Quality Foundation determine its hierarchy of Bruces? Who is the most trusted member of the shadowy, adbusting street art collective TrustoCorp? We ask these hard questions, Cancer, because it’s our job. But also because this month you need to be a leader and not in the monarchic tradition, but more in the sense of providing guidance and cohesion to a loosely formed alliance of eclectic characters. Oh, to hell with the art metaphors: you’re Emilio Estevez and, until July 1, your life is Mighty Ducks.
Leo (July 23–August 22)
There are no guarantees in life, Leo — except of course in the fantastical alternate economic reality of auction houses. There, in order to secure lucrative consignments, specialists use minimum price guarantees to coax timid sellers into signing over their prized holdings, essentially gambling that the market’s interest in the work will outstrip their own. Happily, your life is not analogous to an evening sale of contemporary art at Christie’s or Sotheby’s. Unfortunately this means that the bubble you’re currently riding will soon burst.
Virgo (August 23–September 23)
Your impulsive nature is part of your charm, Virgo, but this month we’d urge you to carefully ponder all possible repercussions of your actions. For instance, last year when we learned that the shirts and hats Jenny Holzer had designed for the Dallas Cowboys were on sale, we bulk ordered dozens of each. Now hardly a day goes by that we aren’t rocking one of Holzer’s Truisms and a discrete Cowboys logo, and we are regularly confronted by New York Giants and New York Jets fans who think we actually care about football. Does the hotness of our Holzer gear outweigh the annoyance of dealing with aggressive football fans? Hell yes! (Also, go Cowboys!)
Libra (September 24–October 23)
We have no idea what Rosemarie Trockel will do next, Libra — literally none. Will she make more darkly humorous ceramic sculptures? Will she craft more of her clever textile takes on seminal Modernist painting styles? Could she get more mileage out of those cast steel couches she was making a few years ago? Will she suspend more plastic plants from gallery ceilings? To all of the above and countless other distinct possibilities, the answer is “definitely maybe.” We wish we could say the same for your future projects, but you’ve been getting awfully predictable lately.
Scorpio (October 24–November 22)
There have been so many art-damaging accidents lately, Scorpio, maybe you should just take it easy this month. In both work and romance you have a tendency to get caught up in the emotion of the moment or swept off your feet, and we just don’t want to see another work of art elbowed, knocked over, pulled off the wall, or otherwise mutilated. Your passion and impulsiveness are among your most endearing qualities, but between now and July 1 they are liable to become a serious liability.
Sagittarius (November 23–December 21)
What kind of art storage facility are you, Sagittarius? Are you a shadowy freeport hiding the art assets of one-percenters? Are you a below-ground bunker carved out from a museum’s basement and rapidly running out of space — not to mention the flood risks? Oh no, we’ve got it, you’re a Broad-style visible storage vault, where visitors can catch tantalizing glimpses of the un-exhibited holdings waiting in the wings. Your candid nature and open disposition are admirable, but they also leave you vulnerable. This month, if you don’t bunker down, you’ll end up getting hurt.
Capricorn (December 22–January 20)
Your outlook for June reminds us of Maria Hassabi’s wonderfully subtle performance commission for the Museum of Modern Art’s atrium earlier this year, Capricorn. It involved a group of dancers moving imperceptibly slowly through the space, crawling and rolling across the floor, up and down stairs, and over furniture. Watching it slowed down time and made us acutely aware of our own limbs and movements, which is exactly what you need to do this month. Your body will fail you and your hard work will all be in vain, so best to take it easy and take care of yourself.
Aquarius (January 21–February 19)
Your loved ones are going to say and do some crazy things this month, Aquarius, but you would do well to bear in mind the tale of Werner Spies. A former director of the Centre Pompidou and one of the world’s foremost authorities on the work of Max Ernst, Spies was nonetheless duped into authenticating one of expert forger Wolfgang Beltracchi‘s fake Ernst paintings, a call that seemed destined to ruin his career and also possibly his entire life. But then, late last year, he was cleared of having to repay the buyer of the erstwhile Ernst painting, proving that, sometimes, even the smartest and most well-intentioned people can do hurtful things, but we shouldn’t exact revenge on them for their weaknesses.
Pisces (February 20–March 20)
Equestrian statues are so played out, and we’re not even talking about the fact that they’re all monuments to warmongering white male generals and colonialists. Tone down your anthropocentrism, Pisces, and you’ll see that the other problem with equestrian statues is they all feature virtually identical mounts. The term “equestrian” may technically imply the presence of a horse, but come on, we as a society can do better. We picture a future of equestrian statue biodiversity in which bronze trailblazers ride toward immortality atop camels, cows, komodo dragons, and, why not, giant fish.
Aries (March 21–April 20)
Hey, Aries, was that you we saw at that opening last month on 21st Street in Chelsea? It was at one of the big galleries, with the exposed wooden roof beams and massive white walls; they were showing these monumental sculptures, or maybe they were all part of one big installation. Either way, the work was huge and kind of ominous, but also weirdly playful — we could totally picture it ending up in the courtyard of a Miami Beach condo development. You were with some friends who were using that reflective part on the far side of the installation to take selfies, and we caught eyes briefly. We might even have inadvertently photobombed your group #artselfie. Anyway we just wanted to let you know that, according to your star chart, a secret admirer who has long been pining for you is going to finally make a move this month, so keep your eyes peeled.
Taurus (April 21–May 21)
It’s admirable how many galleries and smaller nonprofits are making a point of devoting entire seasons to women artists, Taurus, but what about animal artists? As a de facto member of the bovine family, you must have noticed the not-so-subtle specism that runs rampant in the art world. Where are the revisionist retrospectives for Karishma the elephant, Metro and Justin the painting horses, or the shows surveying alumni of the Oklahoma City Zoo’s “Art Gone Wild” program? You have the meow-er to end this neigh-gligence before it becomes a moo-t point.
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.