Fischl finds a visual bond between the seclusion of the affluent white world and the pandemic’s enforced isolation.
New York University’s Grey Gallery takes on the concept of the sublime in contemporary landscape art.
In his new show at Skarstedt, the artist creates confrontations between young, fresh bodies and tired, aging flesh.
The museum should be commended for shining a light on painting, but the show feels like a missed opportunity.
CHICAGO — The Modern Wing of the Art Institute of Chicago, which opened in 2009, has reinstated its contemporary collection after giving over most of the space in 2015 to a much-lauded retrospective of the American sculptor Charles Ray.
I walked into the exhibition space at the New York Academy of Art recently and was blown away. The current exhibition The Big Picture presents a surprising and considered look at an alternate kind of large-scale painting. Five figurative artists involved with the institution in some way present monumental canvases based at least partly on the human figure.
Before focusing on Kathy Bradford’s exhibition of new paintings at the Edward Thorp Gallery, I want to mention Eric Fischl’s recent paintings and the second coming of the Titanic, both oddly relevant for their irrelevance.
Lost in a Metro-North commuter train daze, I watched the Wassaic Project pass by the train window without recognizing it. But the giant slingshot and makeshift teepees that decorated the lush green grass next to a towering grain elevator hinted that artists and their ilk may be nearby. Inside, I would find works by Eric Fischl, Agnes Martin, Gary Hume, Richard Prince, Dieter Roth, Rebecca Horn, Gerhard Richter and Imi Knoebel … among others.