There may be no artist in America better equipped to express the perversity of the Trump administration than Bernstein.
Ephemera provides an important history lesson, especially for a war that is disappearing from America’s collective memory, but the most affective works in World War I and the Visual Arts are those that convey the pathos of the war experience.
Flint Water Project politicizes the readymade, positing the bottles as symbols of gross negligence and misconduct on the part of city and state officials, and the dire consequences.
The talent and tumult of Richard Gerstl’s work beg the question of what would have been had he not ended his life.
Rama’s paintings confront us with empowered female sexuality and insanity.
At Winnipeg’s Plug In Institute of Contemporary Art, art acts as a kind of magnifying glass, exposing the city’s unconventional and, at times, undesirable aspects.
The artist’s presence in her current one-woman survey at Gavin Brown’s Enterprise is like a ghost in the machine.
There’s a discrepancy between Roth’s relationship with his art — so much of which was never meant to last — and its reception by an art establishment that has canonized the late artist.
“Wounded Man (Autumn 1916, Bapaume),” from Dix’s portfolio of 50 etchings, The War (Der Krieg), shows a brutal reality that lays waste to George W. Bush’s anesthetized vision of war wounds.
Trees frequently figure in Oehlen’s work. As a formal device, it allows freedom of invention, but the invention is structured by internal logic.
His drunken antics and grand gestures amounted to a life that New York Times art critic Roberta Smith once called “an extended, alcohol-fueled performance piece.”
The Susanne Hilberry Gallery was a gateway to the art world that lay beyond Detroit as well as a kind of training ground where artists, art students, and art critics could learn to view and interact with artworks critically.