Tanega’s approach to mark-making comes across as stream of consciousness, as if she’s engaged in a conversation with herself.
On my first trip to New York in 1998, I looked up Bourgeois in the phone book and called her. To my surprise, she answered and invited me to her home on Valentine’s Day.
The Survival Research Laboratories stage large-scale sensational “machine art performances,” of which there have been over 55 to date.
In their exhibitions at Honey Ramka, Michael Wetzel and Jessica Cannon long for the cohesion of forms and meanings.
The sculptures on view in White Column’s project room feel like the results of a lot of daydreaming by Joe Howe, who is now 87.
The British painter Denzil Forrester, who is currently showing at White Columns, talks about how he made art and was a fly on the wall at reggae and dub music venues.
“Iggy Pop’s body is central to an understanding of rock music and its place within American culture,” says Jeremy Deller. “It has witnessed much and should be documented.”
Forget James Bond — how about we get Idris Elba to be the next Batman?
When Life magazine sent Gordon Parks to document the daily lives of three black families living in Alabama, it was 1956, during the Montgomery bus boycott.
Like a Ferrari parked in a garage in Emeryville, California, for way too long, Keith Boadwee is finally taking his show on the road. A transgressive artist, probably known best for his homoerotic yet humorous photographic self-portraits, Boadwee faded into relative obscurity after some early success in 1990s Los Angeles. But this year his work is reaching new audiences.