The Colombian artist’s first US retrospective is a meditation on memory and seeing.
From North to South America, artists used the bold colors, figuration, and appropriated imagery of Pop Art, but with a biting political message.
Born to an immigrant family in El Paso, Texas, Luis Jiménez grew up in a world dominated by cowboys, cactus, and rattlesnakes, all of which appeared in his art.
“If you’re going to do art history,” Steinberg declared, “you’d better know what your artists were looking at. And that has to include prints.”
In darling divined, Brackens teases out the symbolism, allegory, and parable long associated with global cosmologies of tapestry weaving.
With the teaching galleries at the Blanton Museum now being closed, as a museum educator there I can’t but help ponder how an art experience of close looking with our eyes, our bodies, and our breath might translate in our post-pandemic future.
Once the official sculptor in the court of the last Habsburg king, Luisa Roldán is easily the most famous sculptor you’ve never heard of.
Amauta affirmed the rights and political demands of Latin America’s indigenous groups and recognized their cultures as vital and authentic alternatives to Hispanicized, colonial narratives.
In unifying contemporary tropical realities with histories of colonization, Minaya demonstrates how imperialist attitudes survive in the discourse and commodification culture surrounding tropical tourism.
Lily Cox-Richard questions — and successfully subverts — a long-held association between the aesthetic qualities of classical sculptures with physical whiteness.
Maps drawn by Indigenous artists at the behest of the Spanish in the 16th century illustrate the amalgamation of visual traditions during the early years of contact between Indigenous groups and colonizers.
The artworks in Words/Matter suggest that language is not simply ethereal and cerebral, but infinitely malleable, corporeal, and tactile.