I’ve never painted a painting without listening to jazz.
Becoming an artist was never a deliberate decision. It just crept up on me slowly and is still skulking around the corners of my life.
What an exhibition of over one hundred New York City scenes amassed by a real estate scion captures of the city and reveals about the collector.
There are at least two poles in Lennart Anderson’s work, poles that you see him gravitating towards and veering away from throughout his life: Anderson the dogged and humble observer of nature, but also Anderson the formal constructor and inventor.
I narrowed down the options by choosing the path I felt right. I can’t recall the paths that I didn’t choose.
B.Z. Sacks owned a gallery in the subway arcade at 42nd Street and Sixth Avenue in 1949. It was called the Tribune Subway Gallery. She was twenty-five years old.
To me traditional art materials are burdensome: they point to themselves, or other points in history. I like to use a material that tells a different story and has a different history, often outside of art.
Social media turns works of art into objects of rapid consumption, sometimes supersonic, which I think makes us dangerously insensitive to the enormous amount of work, time, and sacrifice that lies behind each post, each evanescent image.
I like to make art that I do not understand. It shows, unrelentingly, that other worlds are possible.
The world I was familiar with has been drastically altered by the invisible virus, and I have great difficulty navigating this unfamiliar terrain.
In art, I find joy but no peace.
Why does all official portraiture always have to be celebratory—if you consider it as a visual catalog of past officials? Why can’t it also be a critical depiction or interpretation?