A self-taught artist, former antiques dealer, and history buff, Andrew LaMar Hopkins centers the often difficult-to-categorize nature of creole identity.
Joseph Elmer Yoakum recollects his adventurous life in signature curvilinear language.
The dialogue among four works — two by each artist — suggests a dissonant string quartet as each piece asserts its distinctive timbre and range.
For his US gallery debut, Michel Houellebecq presents an exhibition which amounts to a theory attempting to explain the dysfunction of French society.
Venus Over Manhattan is sparely hung, dimly lit, and cavernous. The mood is somber, appropriate to 1% big money ventures and for contemplating 18 versions of Andy Warhol’s sinister “Little Electric Chair” (1964) canvases.
Peter Saul’s anarchic imagination is a singular phenomenon in American art.
Yesterday (Martin Luther King, Jr. Day in America), the Russian magazine Buro 24/7 published a story about heiress Dasha Zhukova. In a photo accompanying the article, Zhukova was sitting on a chair held up by a mannequin of a black woman lying on her back, her stiletto-booted feet up in the air.
When I was little I went to the Whitney Museum over and over to see “Cirque Calder,” Alexander Calder’s three-dimensional cartoon of performers preening, frozen in mise-en-scène. Walking into Calder Shadows, on view at Venus Over Manhattan, I felt the same childish camaraderie with the artist, only this time it held fear of the bogeyman.
With the economy slowly creaking back to life and a good deal of speculation about an imminent art market bubble burst, the intrepid collector and writer Adam Lindemann has seen fit to open a brand-spanking-new gallery in the lap of luxury at 980 Madison Avenue.
What do you do with a stolen drawing by Dalí? Apparently you mail it back.
Upstairs from “Larry,” in the Carlyle Galleries Building at 980 Madison Avenue, Adam Lindemann’s latest art toy, Venus over Manhattan, was unveiled to the press Wednesday morning.