New York, I feel your pain. You’re hemorrhaging under the weight of your artistic success and accomplishments, bleeding out talent like Jackson Pollock after the car crash. I know it’s hard to keep all your children around while the rents keep rising and the scene gets hyped into the next century while it struggles to hold on to what it had in the last. Times are tough! But your loss is Louisiana’s gain …
Mention the name Kirsha Kaechele (assuming you can pronounce it) to folks in the New Orleans arts communities and you’re likely to hear a wide range of opinions—and her story brings up a host of interesting questions regarding the complex and often conflicting mix of motivations, ego, and consequences behind community-based art projects.
Although it’s currently one of New Orleans’ most happening neighborhoods, it’s easy for me to take the centuries-old Faubourg Marigny for granted since I’ve lived here ever since moving to New Orleans nearly fourteen years ago. I went for a walk today to remind myself how visually rich it is, and this is what I saw.
150 years after the conflict began, the Civil War provides the subject matter for a group show at the Good Children Gallery in New Orleans. But far from being a mere exercise in nostalgia,”Grant v. Lee”, curated by Sophie Lvoff, gave artists the opportunity to “gently and subtly evoke the times and culture of the Civil War while bringing up significant questions about race and nationalism that we continue to ask today.”
New Orleans artist Dave Greber’s video work addresses issues of optical phenomena and universal spirituality. It’s also a hell of a lot of fun to watch.
New Orleans is a city of excess: we eat more good food, show more skin (at least during Carnival season), and have more fun than just about any other city in the United States, or anywhere. And when the Prospect.1 art biennial rolled into town in the fall of 2008, we could add “see more great art” to that list as well. Hopes were high that the followup would match or even exceed the scope and ambition of curator Dan Cameron’s first installment (81 artists! 39 countries! 22 venues!). But it’s not 2008 any more, and Prospect New Orleans has become subject to the New Austerity too.
There’s more compelling art being produced in the Crescent City these days than at any point in its history. And there may be no better place to start looking at it this summer than the Great Hall of the New Orleans Museum of Art.
Starting Wednesday, July 6, Hyperallergic will be heading to the land of Creoles and Cajuns for two weeks by Lake Pontchartrain. During the period, we’ll be handing over the reigns of the publication to veteran blogger John D’Addario. You’re in for a treat!
World-renowned street artist Swoon is installing her newest work in the central hall of the New Orleans Museum of Art and photographer and art historian John D’Addario was there to capture a glimpse for Hyperallergic readers.
This week … what makes an artist a professional, taking Rirkrit Tiravanija’s relational aesthetics for a joyride, Jan Gossaert at the Nat’l Gallery, post-Katrina New Orleans, a history of title design in cinema, stereoscopic pics as GIFs, Eli Broad’s art collection, Google Street View as art & in China …
Photographer and art historian John D’Addario has been capturing images of the new Swoon pieces going up in the Crescent City. Judging by the designs she has big plans for the city, oh right, she’s planning an art house on Piety Street! And not just any house but a “towering pixie temple with a star-shaped floor plan, a zigzag wrap-around porch and pointy cupola, adorned with assorted dormers and flying filigree.” It sounds impressive.
New Orleans — The captain’s flight-deck announcement that we were now making our final descent towards New Orleans jolted me from a very uneasy sleep. The three-hour flight was my first prolonged opportunity to get prolonged (i.e. 3-hours rest) after a late night train ride, to a later night Long Island Railroad Road ride, to a crack-of-dawn flight departure from the 24-hour nightmare microcity that is New York’s JFK airport.
Confused and groggy I peered out the window as we began our descent. With eyes as bleary as my thoughts, I decided that I was surveying Gulf waters from some 25,000 feet. What are those dark streaks? I thought. Is that oil? Oh my god, that’s oil. There’s still oil everywhere. Holy shit. Oh no. They ruined the Gulf.