Given a platform to say something — about first-world capitalism, its attendant environmental destruction, or the definition of the self through objects — why not use it?
What I see as his late period reveals an artist who knows that change is inevitable, that mortality is hurrying closer, and that art is not a bulwark against time.
Looking at the upcoming shows from Pace, David Zwirner, Gagosian, and Hauser & Wirth one hardly gets the sense that we are in a moment of acute crisis.
These are the paintings of a modern master for whom dissipation and loss of control have become integrated into the work.
Serra’s new works are the ultimate billionaire’s art.
These are works you do not scrutinize or reflect upon because there is really not much to examine, much less think about.
Hollywood producer Joel Silver says the gallery refused to return the $3.2 million he paid for a Koons sculpture, whose completion date has been pushed back more than three years.
Steven Tananbaum claims he has paid more than $13 million since 2013 for three sculptures, none of which have been delivered.
Rosalind Krauss misreads Twombly in more ways than I can enumerate.
At Printed Matter’s annual event, some of the highlights were objects that expanded upon the idea of what books can provide: an affordable means to experience and collect art.
Making a brushstroke painting in the mid-1970s — a decade after Greenberg, Stella, and Lichtenstein gleefully presided over its burial — was foolhardy and brave.
By a playful amalgam of semiotics with scatology, Twombly redevised history painting into palimpsest poop.