A trio of disparate inspirations that helped me wait out the quarantine as I sheltered in place.
Her aloof houses are challenging, seem to have their backs turned to me, the viewer, and transform me into an interloper.
This wasn’t a decapitated head, but a self-sufficient object, as autonomous as a meteor.
The staccato of the surface gives me the mph of the wind on the beach that day.
I have spent about a decade studying W.E.B Du Bois’ concept of double consciousness: the sense of looking at one’s self through the lens of others.
He makes the “I” out to be “a resting zone … a meeting place.”
It was as if the life in them burned up like cellulose melting in a projector.
The piece is an exquisite consciousness enhancer.
Raoul Middleman, Recent sketch The Pandemic has shut down museums and for the time being we've lost that kind of first hand visceral experience we get looking at art. I already miss the oomph and goop of oil paint escaping from the pores of the canvas: brushed,...
I thought of the Intimists… and how they make ordinary objects, including cats, absolutely transcendent.
I have everything I need, except the lodestar that has gotten me this far, in a life that has revolved around art.
These two artists represent my dilemma: private vs. public, personal vs. political.