What do Emin and Munch have in common other than a burning desire to embrace, and be defined by, the miseries of life?
Mary Weatherford’s new paintings confront us with a sense of place, a remembered moment, a hidden story.
Looking at Yiadom-Boakye’s portraits is an act of slow discovery, the unveiling of a mystery.
Tu Hongtao’s paintings revisit the traditions of Chinese painting while evading the perils of oversimplification and stagnation.
The image depicts 2,953 arced trails of the sun rising and falling during a period of eight years and one month.
A show at Tate Britain underscores Turner as the great recorder of elemental disorder and industrial pollution on the grand scale.
Wallis tore up the rule book and pointed a way forward for British painting.
It is neither easy nor especially relaxing to spend time with Nauman.
Howard Hodgkin: Memories — the first show of any importance since the artist’s death — seems to open him up as never before.
For Cézanne, stone represented structure incarnate.
The art of the collagiste is essentially the art of the scavenger, the opportunistic thief.
What will she make of the fabled greatness of the English past?