LONDON — It’s 10am on the last Saturday of January, and Tate Britain is predictably sleepy. The museum has just opened its doors for the day, and a modest coterie of visitors treads lightly to preserve the morning hush.
LONDON — Two inflatable cobblestones, outsized and dully metallic, hang from the ceiling. It’s implicit: these are material agents of anarchy, the airborne heralds of revolution.
LONDON — Anselm Kiefer’s retrospective comes at an odd cultural moment.
LONDON — In the ’70s, photographer (and videographer, and rigorous cultural critic, and possible genius) Martha Rosler brought a critical eye, politically and philosophically, to the medium’s seductive pretenses of objectivity.
LONDON — Out there in the artistic ether is a flimsy Italian geometry notebook, its yellowing pages pasted over with a series of small, square-format photographs.
Marina Abramović woke up in the middle of the night having entirely reimagined her then-upcoming exhibition at the Serpentine Gallery.