Berkenblit’s mastery is the visual equivalent of someone who can write fluently in three different languages.
It is as if each of Berkenblit’s distinctive works is an isolated, oversized panel from an unknown cartoon strip: we have no idea what happened before or what will happen next.
This year, the visions at the Independent Art Fair were multiple, with some galleries dedicating their booths to outsider and unknown artists, as well as work that is a bit more playful.
In his solo show Portraits at Anton Kern Gallery, Jonas Wood exaggerates the flaws of his subjects, an oddly refreshing sight in the age of Photoshop.
Margot Bergman paints boldly simplified portraits of women on top of found paintings, which she salvages from flea markets.
One thing that is immediately apparent in Al-Ugh-Ories, Nicole Eisenman’s show at the New Museum, is her streak of resistance.
At once compassionate and angry, empathetic and satirical, tender and tough, Nicole Eisenman is a storyteller, portraitist, social chronicler, allegorist, fantasist, utopian dreamer and history painter, to name just a handful of her many artistic identities.
Ever since the beginning of this century, when Ruth Root got rid of her references to Philip Guston, she has gotten better and better. In her current show, Ruth Root, at Andrew Kreps, she has kicked out the jams, and the results are unlike anything else being done right now.
Contemporary artists and a few artists from yesteryear are exploring unorthodox and atypical ways to experience the contrast between black and white.
LONDON — If all art is subjective, mirrored art is doubly so. And if there is one tendency at Frieze this year which cannot be ignored it is the use of reflective surfaces, as if to cause you twice as much grief in judging the work.
The ADAA Art Show marked its 25th anniversary this year, and the 2013 edition at the Park Avenue Armory was definitely a very mature, stately fair, with only the slightest of dark undertones to its otherwise unsurprising, but elegantly sleek, presentation.
There’s no point in giving you a “review” of the mothership of art fairs in Miami, Art Basel Miami Beach, so I thought a photo essay with some observations were more appropriate.
I admit that I got a little bored after three hours of wandering around. I found myself seeing the same thing and getting the same numbness I get during marathon holiday shopping trips or walks through ancient souks … there’s only so much merchandise you can see in one stop.
It was still refreshing to see some galleries display the prices of their wares freely, and examples of excellent abstraction by names mostly absent from the art history survey books, but I was most shocked to discover what must be the most awful Basquiat I have even seen in my life.