As companions in our centuries of wandering and settling, dogs have given their loyalty blindly, in both good and bad, as sacrifices to animal testing, as scouts to survivors on battlefields, as guardians to sleep by the door at night.
Many of us probably remember our formative years sitting in class, taking the SATs and trying to lose our virginity. Few of us probably spent that time hanging out with Debbie Harry, playing Max’s Kansas City, or finding success in an underground band.
Gertrude Käsbeir and Rinko Kawauchi have two things in common: they’re women and they’re photographers.
With incredible precision through a diversity of materials, Charles Edenshaw evoked the beauty of traditional Haida art at a time when this First Nations culture was on the precipice of disappearing.
Making comics about the art world is an excellent idea. And so, the premise of Brecht Vandenbroucke’s White Cube is full of promise.
No matter where French photographer Antoine d’Agata travels, he finds the same festering vein of marginalized depravity.
Inspired by bird nests or vanishing building techniques, architecture based on natural materials is an expanding focus in both sculpture garden and urban landscape.
In 1978, the esteemed British curator Bryan Robertson saw fit to compare the promise of painter Gary Wragg’s emergent career with that of the young Jackson Pollock. It is a comparison lent some weight by the fact that Robertson had written a monograph and organized a major exhibition devoted to Pollock’s work when he was Director of London’s Whitechapel Gallery.
Ever since viewing what turned out to be the final solo show of Bruce Kurland (1938-2013), at the Victoria Munroe Gallery in New York City in 1990, I have been haunted by his intimate oil paintings.
While the increased availability of Ray Johnson’s letters, notes, and statements subtilizes our understanding of this legendarily well-connected yet enigmatic artist, his flattened logorrheia is also just fun to read.
Two rural communities have ominously declared themselves the “Gateway to Death Valley” — Baker, California and Beatty, Nevada — each isolated as the last stop before miles of harsh landscape.
There is a loose tribe living at nature’s margins in the United States, slaughtering goats raised by hand at Idaho’s Lost River and picking cherries growing wild in California’s Marble Mountain Wilderness.