There will always be fashion magazines that instruct readers which silk faille caftan is appropriate for lounging on a yacht over Memorial Day weekend, but what about one that traces the sartorial origins of the safety pin as an accessory?
Tristano, the most recently translated book by the Italian poet and novelist Nanni Balestrini may come as a surprise to those who know him through his two previously translated works of fiction, The Unseen and Sandokan.
Back in the 1860s, the capital of the United States was glimpsing two visions of its country: one of brutality, and one of beauty. The latter was captured by Carleton Watkins in his photographs of an untouched wilderness in the West.
From the tiny harvest mouse twisting a humble home of blades of grass, to the lofty fields of compass termite towers appearing like relics of some ancient world, the structures of the animal kingdom are astounding in their complexity of forms. Nature photographer Ingo Arndt dedicated two years of traveling around the world to discover these builders, the results of which are published in a new book.
Photographer Douglas Ljungkvist first went to Ocean Beach, New Jersey, in 1993, reluctantly. But to please his girlfriend, he stayed, and then came vacation after summer vacation of growing more attached to the little homes in their faded pastel hues.
There’s been so much hemming and hawing about “social practice” art in the past few years, it’s a little painful to even say, or type, the phrase. So, it felt a little odd to be picking up a fairly lengthy book on the topic, What We Made: Conversations on Art and Social Cooperation. But the number one reason I was intrigued by this volume is the person who put it together: Tom Finkelpearl.
California-born, Brooklyn, New York–based comics writer and artist Gabrielle Bell diarizes as often as she contemplates the very idea of memoirs in Truth Is Fragmentary: Travelogues & Diaries, her new, mostly black-and-white collection of autobiographical comics.
To be honest, Relatively Indolent but Relentless, Matt Freedman’s artist’s book recounting his 35-day incarceration on Planet Cancer, got me at the dedication: “For Radiant Jude.”
From 2007 to 2013, New York–based photographer Richard Renaldi approached strangers across the United States and asked them to pose together, close, as if they were friends or lovers.
The story of Arman Manookian, one of Hawaii’s foremost modernist painters of the 1920s and ’30s, is full of mystery and sadness.
Everybody dies — that’s both a truism and the name of new book by Ken Tanaka with David Ury, who may or may not be the same person.
Before even opening The Object, Whitechapel Gallery and the MIT Press’s latest installment in the Documents of Contemporary Art series, the book’s title stares back, interpolates itself, asking questions: What is an object? Which object?