What these forms do first and foremost is force us to look. They encourage us to question what the eye is given to believe at first glance, and to carefully consider every surface from a variety of angles.
You walk to the end of the pier, drive to the canyon’s edge, or stroll down to the beach. Shading your eyes, you peer out across the water or valley to watch the bright disc slide like a gold coin into the horizon’s slot. Appreciative murmurs are heard as the sky darkens. Another end of day.
There is a 12,000-pound steel sculpture by Tony Smith sitting in the cavernous space operated by the Matthew Marks Gallery at 522 West 22nd Street. It is sleek, black and decked out with an art historical pedigree. But that’s not the Tony Smith that interested me.
Don’t you love attending a high profile art opening on a Friday night and instead of getting a nice big glass of vino, being handed a plastic cup of imported mineral water? Forget about TGIF. Obviously, we all have to suffer if the artist is in recovery and the legendary bad girl photographer Nan Goldin, now 58 years old, is trying to stay off the stuff.
Yesterday afternoon, I ventured out into the bordering on bad weather and braved the gray skies to bring you the latest on Chelsea this November. The gallery district is probably much as you remember it, with high-end galleries showing off their blue chip stables and smaller spaces skipping to keep up. Yet there are still pleasant surprises to be found in the warehouse-strewn streets, from lesser known painters that include (gasp!) a ceramicist to commercial shows that may as well be museum retrospectives. Continue below for the blow-by-blow of my blue-chip Chelsea trip.