Judith Bernstein, Carroll Dunham, Alia Ali, and Tomashi Jackson talk about what got them through 2020.
The creation and interpretation of art remains an anchor and a refuge, a sanctuary for vanishing ideals.
We cannot ignore the fact that Americans voted for Trump.
There may be no artist in America better equipped to express the perversity of the Trump administration than Bernstein.
Their only solution was to make their revolution their own way, without help and without precedent.
For Martha Wilson and her collaborators at the Franklin Furnace Archive in New York, the avant-garde spirit is alive and well, and as relevant as ever.
The first painting I saw in 2016 was “Cockman Always Rises Orange” (2015): we can’t say we weren’t warned.
With her remarkable new exhibition at Mary Boone — her second at the gallery in eight months — Judith Bernstein resurrects the imagery of her Vietnam-era works in a savage takedown of contemporary American politics and its testosterone-fueled will to power.
2015 was the Year of the Whitney.
So where were they? An Inside Art column published in The New York Times a week before the opening of Art Basel Miami Beach dangled the prospect of a more inclusive fair this year, one that would feature “A Focus on Female Artists,” as the headline put it.
Sometimes you think you have a handle on an artist’s work, and then a new piece of information comes along that casts it in an entirely different light.
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.