“Practically everything I do takes ten years for people to get,” Billy Al Bengston says — perhaps a reason why several of his 1950s and ‘60s exhibitions have recently been re-staged.
In Allison Schulnik’s hands, paint becomes matter and subject becomes object. Her paintings are about a continual state of flux: morphing, dripping, and melting.
“Jen! Welcome to Maine!” Katherine Bradford exclaims brightly as she spots me crossing the street.
I visited Enrique Chagoya in his Stanford University studio when classes were out for the summer. The bucolic fields outside the building were quiet, other than the rustling of tree branches, and a group of swallows and a hummingbird flying near the roof.
Charles Yuen’s home in Boerum Hill, Brooklyn, is comfortably domestic and suburban in feeling, which somehow surprises me, after having seen his zany and sardonic paintings earlier in the year at Studio10 in Bushwick.
I fell in love with Ridley Howard’s painting when I saw his 2014 exhibition at Koenig & Clinton Gallery. The show, as a whole, created a world that one rarely sees in contemporary art: romantic, refined, delicate, and impeccably crafted.
I met Erika Ranee last summer when I took students to see a pop-up exhibition she curated in a Brooklyn studio, arranged around the theme of imagery of the eye.
Walking through the green door into June Leaf’s old-school New York studio — a street-level space downtown — is a bit like entering a Willy Wonka world.
Last summer, Bill Scott and I were invited to participate in final critiques at the Mount Gretna School of Art. Critiques are usually predictable affairs, but I was surprised by Scott’s interactions with the students.
“I’m just getting started,” Sam Gilliam says with a playful smile as he watches me take in his Washington, D.C. studio.
When Carrie Moyer and I decided to have a conversation, her recent paintings were already at DC Moore Gallery, where her solo exhibition — now on view — was soon to open. We met there after hours, and over beer and chips, and talked among the works leaning against the walls.
“I love it here, but this isn’t my true home,” Gregory Amenoff says, looking out the window of his studio in Ulster County, New York. “Too green,” he declares.