By repeatedly returning to the same motif, Lees attempts the impossible, which is to freeze a particular object, individual, or moment in time.
Garabedian gave himself over to his instincts, pretensions, and mistakes, unafraid to explore and even embrace what others considered to be “bad.”
All that I saw were some small and medium-sized paintings, mostly very dark, almost indistinguishable. How could I review this show?
In these paintings, as in so much of Porter’s work, American loneliness coincides with American leisureliness, often uneasily.
“Although I think authorship is questionable, I am interested in inventing my own language.”
Stanley Lewis finds a way to step aside and let the world become paint.
I have been following Chuck Webster’s work since his first show at Zieher Smith in 2003, where he employed different mediums on different kinds of antique and found paper. It was obvious to me that Webster loved to draw in both dry and liquid mediums, anything capable of making a line.
Minutes before seeing a collection of William Bailey’s meditative still-lifes and figure paintings, I heard, yet again, a series of small-minded and reckless comments by Donald Trump.
There is a small exhibition in memory of Charles Garabedian (1923 – 2016) currently at Sidecar, the adjoining annex space of Betty Cuningham Gallery on the Lower East Side.
Before Jake Berthot became a painter, he was ridiculed by high school peers for an unorthodox answer he once gave in class. Berthot’s teacher rescued him by saying that the response he’d given made its own kind of sense because the young man was a poet.
There’s often no rhyme or reason to the selection of art in individual booths at fairs — other than, of course, a gallery’s aim to sell well.
“They take a long time to make.” That’s what the British artist and writer Andrew Forge said when he was “questioned as to the meaning of his paintings,” according to an obituary that ran in The Telegraph