The exhibition Wars at David Nolan evokes political and personal violence as facts of modern life.
In a time when many artists are content to establish one-to-one correspondences between signifier and signified, sign and meaning, Wardell Milan’s ambiguity is refreshing.
For Finlay, the garden was not simply a place of beauty, but rather a liminal space bordered by nature and culture, where visitors are invited to meditate on the different ways time passes.
In Vásquez de la Horra’s cosmology, we encounter fantastical creatures on whatever journey we take, whether it is to a real place or an imagined future.
We are not likely to stop and ponder the things we daily pass by and over, but Julia Fish clearly does.
Since the early 2000s, Jonathan Meese, who is based in Hamburg and Berlin, has cultivated a persona as a propagandist for what he calls the Dictatorship of Art
I don’t think it is hard to understand why Sandra Vásquez de la Horra’s pencil drawings depict dejected, often isolated figures from a domain that is simultaneously fairy tale, horror story, and dream.
What do Roger Brown, Sarah Canright, Jordan Davies, Ed Flood, Art Green, Philip Hanson, Richard Hull, Jin Soo Kim, Jim Nutt, Ed Paschke, Christina Ramberg, Suellen Rocca, Barbara Rossi, William Schwedler, Rebecca Shore, Chris Ware, Karl Wirsum and Mary Lou Zelazny have in common?
In Neil Gall’s newest paintings, which are currently being exhibited at David Nolan, there is a powerfully coercive interplay between figure and background that veers between the unstable and the terrifying.
Frieze New York opens its doors to the public today, but already during yesterday’s press and VIP preview the aisles were crowded, the common areas and restaurants filled with worn-out fairgoers, and it seemed as if the only empty seats were sculptures.
I urge viewers not to miss the rare opportunity to linger over Julia Fish’s paintings and drawings, which were last exhibited in New York in 2005. A group of recent works can be seen in Julia Fish: Threshold, currently on display at David Nolan Gallery.
“In my beginning is my end.” The first line of T. S. Eliot’s poem “East Coker” — the second of his Four Quartets — came unexpectedly to mind when I returned for a last look at Richard Artschwager’s The Desert, a selection of pastels along with two paintings, at David Nolan Gallery. Artschwager’s mischievousness seems to have slipped into my thinking because I misremembered the line as: “In my end is my beginning.” Did I transpose the words because the artist is nearly ninety, and he began working on landscapes in color around 2007, when he was in his mid-eighties? The subject matter of many of the drawings is beginnings and endings as they are played out through the filters of the artist’s memory and imagination.