Now and then, I suspect that an honest art writer might feel as if he or she is losing it.
Who would have thought that still lifes would create such a strong reaction?
Kirchner was the anti-Matisse.
Imagine Gustave Courbet’s materialism joined to Max Beckmann’s aggressive color, with a dash of Caspar David Friedrich’s visionary panoramas thrown in.
Set the works of El Greco alongside those of Paul Cézanne, Edgar Degas, or Pablo Picasso, and you can see why they admired and copied him.
I want to resist any temptation to interpret these pictures, to reveal ‘meanings,’ instead of acknowledging the ways they underscore the strangeness of the workaday world.
Because the contemporary art world is such a secular place, there hasn’t been much attention given to Warhol-the-Catholic, until now.
Serra’s new works are the ultimate billionaire’s art.
Soulages is not a reductive painter, but an artist who enlarges our sense of tradition by demonstrating the infinite potential of a single pigment.
Schjeldhal moves quickly to characterize an artist, like a cat pouncing on his prey.
At what point does an image become objectionable?
When I got to know Bill Berkson, my life as a writer was completely changed.