Serkan Özkaya’s “Mirage” (2013) was an ominous presence at the beta launch of the new Postmasters Gallery space in Tribeca.
The smell of recycled air, thin blankets, and fantastic uniforms are all signs to me that I am going “home.” Though “home” is not necessarily where I was born. At 19 years old, I have created a fluctuating notion of home for myself, with each place representing and holding another part of myself, of my experience. I moved to Lugano, Switzerland, last year for college. I completed my first trip to Europe when I was 18 months old. By age six, I had done the 24-hour voyage from the US to Australia.
When Michigan governor Rick Snyder recently affirmed that Detroit’s $650 million hockey stadium, to be financed with a mix of $450 million in state bonds and private moneys, won’t be derailed by the city’s economic woes, the stark contrast with the fate of the city’s beleaguered art museum could not have been more apparent.
James Franco is having a tough time right now. His Indiegogo fundraiser for Palo Alto Stories doesn’t look like it will reach its goal, but the actor/artist/fundraiser/heart throb is also upset that former Museum of Contemporary Art director Jeffrey Deitch is leaving the institution and perhaps LA.
To paraphrase Thomas Jefferson, the tree of blogging must be refreshed from time to time with the blood of morose critics. And although here at Hyperallergic we believe that it’s better to dwell on the redeeming features of the written word, we do appreciate a good hate-read now and then.
I found it rather soothing to watching two employees at the Museum of Modern Art polish the large Alberto Giacometti sculpture, “Tall Figure, III” (1960), in the museum courtyard.
Photographs of the Civil Rights Movement shoulder an unreasonable burden: we look to them as moral beacons. Bruce Davidson: Time of Change at Howard Greenberg Gallery displays several dozen rich images by Bruce Davidson, who sat with the freedom riders and joined Martin Luther King, Jr.’s march from Selma to Montgomery. It is a timely exhibition, as Trayvon Martin’s murder raises the shadow of Emmett Till, and America looks inward to find our racial hierarchy has been reformed but not dismantled.
Updating “be true to yourself.”
Can one single object encapsulate the dense knot of energy that is New York City? An exhibition is trying with 62 objects, selected by 62 people who all dwell in its diverse, sprawling bounds.
Is it better to see a man walk on broken mirrors until his toes leave bloody red prints across the panes, or listen to the mirrors irregularly shatter in darkness?
CHICAGO — At its most rarefied levels, art as social practice seems oxymoronic. Is it possible to produce work that jars the elitist art world out of its aesthetic bliss while appearing on its sanctified white walls? Probably not. Cheryl Pope’s solo exhibition Just Yell at Monique Meloche Gallery irked me for this very reason — it is deeply entrenched in the agenda of art as social practice.
Jerry Vile’s guerrilla addition to Detroit’s “Monument to Joe Louis” (aka The Fist) is his tongue-in-cheek way of preparing the citizens of his beloved city to brace themselves …