Alexi Worth’s paintings demand a double take that allows viewers to look closer and begin dissembling the painting in order to understand what is being looked at.
For years, Fueki has been quietly creating a singular body of mind-bending work that has never fit into the New York art world.
Each portrait in Lovell’s current exhibition is a lens through which to consider the complex humanity of Black subjectivity in American history.
Over the course of a 70-year-career, David Driskell has been making art about memory, jazz, cities, spirituality, and nature.
Sherman’s paintings offer a captivating tension between movement and stasis.
By concentrating on detail, which is a central feature of Barbara Takenaga’s work, she has gone against the reductive tendencies of Minimalism that still haunt painting.
I have an innate distrust of work that has a whiff of nostalgia drifting off its surface, whether it is for Andy Warhol, Jackson Pollock, or, further back, Albert Pinkham Ryder.
Moyer’s new paintings revel in color and visual pleasure, scrambling distinctions between abstraction and representation.
Using her childhood drawings of maps and figures, Joyce Kozloff underscores the limits of our adult understanding.
The characters of Romare Bearden’s collages, on view now at DC Moore Gallery, form a kind of pantheon, a great mythological scheme particular only to the black American South.
Among several modes enthusiastically adopted by painters in the last century, spontaneity is still held in the highest regard.
With recent statistics showing that only 31% of the solo exhibitions at NYC galleries are devoted to women, it comes as a pleasant surprise that over a two-month period this spring there are several exhibitions simultaneously showcasing the work of second-generation feminist artists.