This week, death of the gallery show, Ellis Island closed, Sharjah Biennial opens, Abramović reflects on the beauty of a glass of water, problems for looking at art with Google, NYPD is tracking criminals using photos on social media, the corporate role in the Harlem Shake, and more.
This week, more curiosities from the art world’s stratosphere. Intrigued, Weekend Words looks at forms of damage.
This is Catherine Murphy’s first exhibition with Peter Freeman — and the inaugural show of gallery’s large, new space (March 14–April 27, 2013). Although Murphy has been showing regularly in New York since the early ’70s, this is the first time that she has had a space big enough to comfortably display her work, a multi-panel work like “Knots” (2009), a suite of 15 modestly scaled paintings, along with more than a dozen paintings and drawings, with the largest painting ranging six feet in height or width. I felt like the work finally had space to breathe.
In part 2 of this month, reviews of music for autobahns, a rough guide to samba, Kacey Musgraves, A$AP Rocky, Monoswezi, Modestep, OneRepublic, and Teleseen.
I met Edward Avedisian by chance at Max’s Kansas City when I sat down next to him at the bar. Otis Redding filled the air. “You know,” Edward turned to me and said, “Ultimately what pop-music is all about is hiring someone to cry in public for you.” He watched for my response, eyes alert beneath his remarkably high forehead. I would come to know that ‘ultimately.’ It was a regular conversational preface, because, as Edward later explained, it was his desire “to describe everything without reference to any convention.”
Every now and then we realize how much we live in a digital mirage. Take Baker Overstreet’s show at Fredericks & Freiser. Although this is the artist’s fourth solo in New York, I hadn’t yet seen his work in the flesh, my only exposure being images and reviews.
Our poetry editor, Joe Pan, has selected a poem by Anselm Berrigan for his sixth in a monthly series that brings original poetry to the screens of Hyperallergic readers.
The name Joseph J. Lhota may not be a household one (yet), but the current Republican mayoral candidate has done a lot in his time in New York City politics. Art worlders may remember him as the man who led the Giuliani administration’s push to bully the Brooklyn Museum into censoring an artwork from the Sensation exhibition.
Alexis Adler has one of the world’s greatest troves of 1980s art in her apartment — doubly true because the art is her apartment. She “had relations” with Jean Michel Basquiat, as she says in a short documentary by Animal New York, and though they weren’t quite boyfriend and girlfriend, Basquiat did decorate their shared apartment with murals and store years’ worth of his sketches and ephemera in the East Village space.
How did this ethereal design of an “infinite forest” transform into a hideous, bus-shelter-like, 18-foot steel canopy?
Curious Matter’s current show, Aesthetic Insubordination, is modest but rewarding. Organized by Virginia-based artist Travis Childers, the exhibition features five artists who find inspiration in common domestic materials, like razor blades, buttons, and flannel.
I hate artist statements. Really, I do. As an artist, they are almost always awkward and painful to write, and as a viewer they are similarly painful and uninformative to read. I also don’t know who decided that artists should be responsible for writing their own “artist statement.” Maybe it was an understaffed gallery in the 1980s, or a control freak think-inside-my-box-or-get-out MFA program director, but regardless of how this standardized practice came to be, the artist’s statement as professional prerequisite (at least for artists who have yet to be validated by the established art world) has long overstayed its welcome. And I don’t think a new one should be required in its place.