In contrast to the speed and bravura of gestural abstraction, new.shiver slows time, and invites viewers to ponder how one might shape time passing.
Trevor Winkfield’s modestly scaled acrylic paintings abound in puzzling, private symbols.
A show of early works by Jaffe challenges viewers to think about the road she pursued in her art, and what it means to go your own way.
Donald Evans concentrated all of his attention on the postage stamp, unlocking its potential to evoke distant, unseen lands.
One thing seems pretty clear about both groups: they separated themselves from mainstream culture, including the art world. This is practically unheard of today.
Burckhardt was never surreptitious; he did not hide his camera, and his subjects often knew they were being photographed.
“No matter what I tried, what fit best was work that involved my love of something small-scale and intimate.”
Ashbery’s primary subject matter concerns an alternate world where nothing goes permanently wrong, and where disasters are nothing more than pranks.
Winkfield’s combinations of forms are inexplicable, a seamless fusion of the sinister and innocent.
Medrie MacPhee’s newest paintings are made from the shapes and contours of disassembled garments, giving “pattern painting” an entirely new meaning.
For a poet who is notorious for writing opaque poems, a number of collages celebrate the youthful male body with an innocence that is touching, tender, and, frankly, poignant, and sweet.
It must be summer. There are group shows galore all over Manhattan. This is when you get to discover new artists, get enthusiastic, become disenchanted, fall in love, fall out of love, all of the above, and none of the above, in one day, and still have time to sit back and read a book of poems in the evening.