Archives
Elizabeth Johnson on ‘The Cynnie Paintings’ by Carol Saft
Her dark dress shimmers in the chilly bathroom suggesting Joan of Arc, in chain mail, before a Zoom battle.
Marissa Sher on Sam Cannon
She was erasing herself physically into an expressionless avatar
Barry Nemett on Pat Steir’s Dysrhythmic Downpours
Then there’s that lone, feathered creature from a soggy flock — a hood ornament of a jittery bird facing jittery geometry.
Heide Fasnacht on David Diao and the Squeegee in the Expanded Field
An innovation is alive and mutable as it passes from hand to hand.
Alison Kruvant on Hedda Sterne
She saw New York as a “Surrealist” city. With its unfathomable density, extreme juxtapositions, and collective lack of sleep, the city hasn’t changed much.
Heide Fasnacht on Jack Whitten and Gerhard Richter
Gerhard may be the Jack of all Trades but Jack was the King.
Anna Shukeylo on Barbara Laube: For Love of Painting and Rebirth
A rich raspberry and cream sorbet-colored brushstroke envelops the two-inch surface.
Lara Allen on Anselm Kiefer’s ‘Die Ordnung der Engel’
It once hung in the Chicago Art Institute but now is a blurry electrical field full of crackles and pops behind my eyes.
MaryKate Maher on Marlene Dumas and Maja Ruznic
It’s red like memory is red or how, when you close your eyes because the sun is too bright, your eyelids create that deep red shadow.
Virginia Wagner on Guadalupe Maravilla: Hearing from the Inside Out
Some invite you to climb onto their backs like beasts in ancient stories. Some invite you to kneel at their altar of corals and hanging wax hides.
Barry Nemett on a Random Trinity
A trio of disparate inspirations that helped me wait out the quarantine as I sheltered in place.
Elizabeth Johnson on Celia Reisman
Her aloof houses are challenging, seem to have their backs turned to me, the viewer, and transform me into an interloper.