While this exhibition exists in an austere white cube, far away from the heavy heat and kudzu of Virginia or Louisiana, the artist invokes the South through material and conceptual pull.
We are waiting for spectacle and when the quotidian, yet incongruous actions occur I wonder whether there is any real payoff coming.
In his exhibition Reunion, Beasley’s sculptures express reverence for his family’s annual gatherings in Virginia — canceled this year due to the pandemic, like so much else.
Most shows can’t or don’t hold these very separate aspects in synchronous rotation: sober assessment of an art historical lineage and a feeling of intimacy. This one does.
Taking a cue from James Baldwin, an exhibition considers the way that American racism moves forward — from the arrival of the first ship carrying enslaved Africans to the insidious ways it has trickled through the capillaries of American culture.
From an increasingly diversified roster of galleries to a surprising slew of rock art, the mega-fair is impressively eclectic this year.
A public sculpture series curated by the Studio Museum in Harlem showcases work by artists who have strong connections to the area.
Kevin Beasley’s installation feels sublime and sacred in its grandiose silence.
What is a DJ? Maybe you can get to an answer by understanding where the DJ is — that pivot point, that hub around which we as dancers oscillate, in the orbit of the music the DJ arranges and organizes.
Upstairs at the International Studio & Curatorial Program, on the third floor, there’s a map tacked to a wall with a series of flags planted in it. The flags document the different countries from which the ISCP has drawn its artist and curator residents, and while it’s easy to notice gaps — large swaths of Africa and South America, for instance — it’s also refreshing to note how many flags there are, and how widespread. With 58 countries and counting, it’s clear that the ISCP is committed to finding art in the far-flung corners of the world; the process just takes time.