Eliana Willis

For the first time in 40 years, Italian Renaissance master Donatello (ca. 1386–1466) has a major solo show—and the curator, Francesco Caglioti, hopes the blockbuster exhibition will help elevate the master sculptor to the level of fame enjoyed by Leonardo da Vinci, Raphael, and Michelangelo.
The reason Donatello has been eclipsed in the public eye by his countrymen?
“It’s simply due to the fact that he was a sculptor and not a painter,” Caglioti, a medieval art history professor at the Scuola Normale Superiore di Pisa, told Artnet News. “Donatello was a pioneer of perspective, and his work anticipated photography and cinema. He is really very modern. Donatello is the best sculptor, perhaps, who ever existed.”
The exhibition’s two venues, the Bargello National Museum and the Palazzo Strozzi, both in Florence, approached Caglioti about curating the show some years ago, but he’s been researching the artist for around 30 years, and believes Donatello’s contributions to the art-historical canon have been wrongfully overshadowed by achievements in painting.
Donatello, Crucifix 1408). Collection of the Basilica of Santa Croce, Florence, property of the Fondo Edifici di Culto, Ministry of the Interior. Photo by George Tatge.
“The Renaissance was the triumph of sculpture,” Caglioti said. “And Donatello was a father of the Renaissance.”
The artists of the period were inspired largely by marble statues carved by the ancient Greeks and Romans, not paintings, of which few survived.
“We have to change our perspective on art history,” Caglioti said. “The Renaissance is a sculptural period par excellence.”
“Donatello: The Renaissance” on view at the Bargello National Museum in Florence. Photo by Ela Bialkowska/OKNO studio.
By bringing together an unprecedented number of works by the sculptor, “Donatello: The Renaissance” could very well help upset that hierarchy.
The 130 pieces on view in what’s been dubbed a “once-in-a-lifetime” outing pair Donatello’s sculpture with paintings by his contemporaries and artists who came hundreds of years later, illustrating his lasting influence.
Andrea del Castagno, Farinata degli Uberti (ca. 1448–49). Collection of the Gallerie degli Uffizi, Galleria delle Statue e delle Pitture, Florence, courtesy of Ministero della Cultura, Gabinetto Fotografico delle Gallerie degli Uffizi.
The show includes pieces from the collections of the Metropolitan Museum of Art in New York; the Louvre in Paris; the National Gallery of Art in Washington, D.C.; and the Kunsthistorisches Museum in Vienna. Caglioti was also able to secure loans of Donatello sculptures that had never before traveled, such as works from the baptistry in Siena and the Basilica of St. Anthony in Padua, and even the bronze sacristy doors from across town at the Basilica of San Lorenzo.
For the show, many of the works have been carefully conserved by the Opificio delle Pietre Dure in Florence, a public institute of the Italian Ministry for Cultural Heritage that specializes in art restoration. The delicate task required soft-bristle brushes and porcupine quills, treating the centuries-old works with steamed demineralised water and other gentle cleansers before applying a protective coat of microcrystalline wax.
Donatello, The Feast of Herod (1423–27), seen before and after restoration. Collection of the Baptistery of San Giovanni, Siena, baptismal font. Photo by Bruno Bruchi, courtesy of the Opera della Metropolitana.
“They cleaned the bronzes, discovering the very gold covering that was completely hidden by centuries and centuries of dirt and filth,” Caglioti said. “They are very brilliant, with a golden surface that nobody had seen for centuries—they looked almost black.”
(The cleaned works will be shown alongside sculptures that have yet to undergo conservation, and will head to the Opificio delle Pietre Dure once the exhibition ends.)
One of the statues from the baptismal font at Siena Cathedral being cleaned with a porcupine quill. Photo courtesy of the Opificio delle Pietre Dure, Florence.
The show also includes the artist’s pioneering marble sculpture St. George (1415–17), made for Florence’s Orsanmichele church and an early example of perspective in Renaissance art, and his bronze David (ca. 1440), believed by some art historians to be Western art’s first free-standing nude male sculpture since ancient times. (Both are from the Bargello.)
Having the show in Florence means visitors can follow with a trip to the city’s Opera del Duomo Museum, home to an impressive collection of Donatello works.
“If you come to Florence,” Caglioti said, “you will have a very very large vision of Donatello’s oeuvre.”
See more works from the show below.
Donatello, David Victorious (1535–40). Collection of the Museo Nazionale del Bargello, Florence. Photo by Bruno Bruchi, courtesy of the Ministero della Cultura.
Donatello, Virgin and Child (Del Pugliese – Dudley Madonna), ca. 1440. Collection of the Victoria & Albert Museum, London.
Donatello, Virgin and Child (Piot Madonna), ca. 1440. Collection of the Musée du Louvre, Paris. Photo by Stéphane Maréchalle, ©2021 RMN-Grand Palais/Dist. Photo SCALA, Firenze.
Donatello, Attis-Amorino (ca. 1435–40). Collection of the Museo Nazionale del Bargello, Florence. Photo by Bruno Bruchi, courtesy of the Ministero della Cultura.
Masaccio, Saint Paul from the Carmine Polyptych (1426). Collection of the Museo Nazionale di San Matteo, Pisa. Courtesy of Ministero della Cultura, Direzione regionale Musei della Toscana, Florence.
Donatello, Hope (1427–29). Collection of the Baptistery of San Giovanni, Siena, baptismal font. Photo by Bruno Bruchi, courtesy of the Opera della Metropolitana.
Donatello, Leaves of the Door of the Apostles (ca. 1440–42). Collection of the Basilica of San Lorenzo, Old Sacristy, Opera Medicea Laurenziana, Florence. Photo by Bruno Bruchi.
Donatello, Leaves of the Door of the Martyrs (ca. 1440–42). Collection of the Basilica of San Lorenzo, Old Sacristy, Opera Medicea Laurenziana, Florence. Photo by Bruno Bruchi.
Andrea Mantegna, Virgin and Child (ca. 1490–95), Collection of the Museo Poldi Pezzoli, Milan.
Donatello, Saint John the Baptist of Casa Martelli (ca. 1442). Collection of the Museo Nazionale del Bargello, Florence. Photo by Bruno Bruchi, courtesy of the Ministero della Cultura.
Donatello, Saint George Slaying the Dragon and Freeing the Princess (1415–17). Collection of the Museo Nazionale del Bargello, Florence. Photo by Bruno Bruchi, courtesy of the Ministero della Cultura.
Michelangelo Buonarroti, Virgin and Child (Madonna of the Stairs), ca. 1490. Collection of the Casa Buonarroti, Florence. Photo by Antonio Quattrone.
Giovanni Bellini, Dead Christ Tended by Angels (Imago Pietatis), ca. 1465. Collection of the Fondazione Musei Civici di Venezia, Museo Correr, Venice.
Donatello, Miracle of the Mule (ca. 1446–49). Collection of the Basilica of Sant’Antonio. Archivio Fotografico Messaggero di sant’Antonio, Padua. Photo by Nicola Bianchi.
Desiderio da Settignano, David Victorious (Martelli David) ca. 1462–64. Collection of the National Gallery of Art, Washington, D.C.
Donatello, Virgin and Child (Madonna of the Clouds), ca. 1425-1430. Collection of the Museum of Fine Arts, Boston.
Donatello and Michelozzo, Dance of Spiritelli (1434–38). Collection of the Museo dell’Opera del Duomo, Prato, Diocese of Prato.
Donatello, Reliquary of Saint Rossore (ca. 1422–25). Collection of the Museo Nazionale di San Matteo, Pisa, courtesy of Ministero della Cultura, Direzione regionale Musei della Toscana, Florence.
Donatello, David Victorious (1408–09). Collection of the Museo Nazionale del Bargello, Florence. Photo by Bruno Bruchi, courtesy of the Ministero della Cultura.
Donatello, Virgin and Child (ca. 1415). Collection of the Staatliche Museen zu Berlin, Skulpturensammlung und Museum für Byzantinische Kunst. Photo by Antje Voigt.
Donatello, The Virgin and Child (ca. 1425). Collection of the Victoria & Albert Museum, London.
“Donatello: The Renaissance” is on view at the Bargello National Museum, Via del Proconsolo, 4, 50122, Florence, and the Palazzo Strozzi, Piazza degli Strozzi, 50123, Florence, March 19–July 31, 2022. It will travel as “Donatello: Founder of the Renaissance” to the Staatliche Museum Preußischer Kulturbesitz, Stauffenbergstraße 41, 10785 Berlin, Germany, September 2, 2022–January  8, 2023, and the Victoria & Albert Museum, Cromwell Road, London SW7 2RL, United Kingdom, February 11–June 11, 2023.
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Of all the art exhibitions in the world, our beloved surveys of contemporary art—the biennials, triennials, and sometimes even quinquennials—often feel like they’re designed to overwhelm. 
To better understand how to navigate these massive shows, we asked a few curators who’ve organized them to provide tips on how to make sense of the experience.
Let’s start with the practical advice. 
Work by Angelica Mesiti in the Australian pavilion at the 58th Venice Biennale in 2019. (Photo by Luca Zanon/Awakening/Getty Images)
Treat It Like a Treasure Hunt
Diana Nawi, the co-artistic director with Naima Keith of last year’s Prospect New Orleans, stressed the importance of having “on-the-ground guidance,” particularly in the form of a map. 
“You can almost have a scavenger hunt, and take the map and cross off things venue by venue,” she said.
Keith also encourages viewers to take “a little bit of time, if you have it, to get a slightly better understanding of that local community,” adding that it could go some ways in better understanding “why that work was put up in that area.”
Prem Krishnamurthy, director of the forthcoming Front Triennial in Cleveland, Ohio, uses a similar metaphor.
“Because [Front has] 25 venues across the three cities that you have to drive between, leave yourself time to treat it like a treasure hunt,” he said. “Or treat it like you’re looking for rainbows. You’re out wandering around and if the light is right, you’ll catch something amazing.”
Front has even dedicated part of its website to tools—including a detailed list of events and a map with venues organized by hub location—to help visitors make their plan of attack. 
But at some point, the practical stuff gives way to conversations about what visitors should go into these events expecting. 
Take your time and enjoy one thing at a time. (Photo by Spencer Platt/Getty Images)
Focus on Singular Experiences
People tend to begin with “the impression that there is actually a way to navigate it all,” said Francesco Bonami, who directed the 50th Venice Biennale in 2003 and the 2010 Whitney Biennial. “And I don’t think there is a way to navigate it.”
“By virtue of their structure, [shows like these are] overwhelming,” Nawi said, adding that Prospect is “the kind of exhibition that is much larger than the two days people usually have for it.”
That means you probably won’t get to see everything.
“Every time you go to the Venice Biennale, you will inevitably meet someone who asks you: ‘Have you seen this thing, or seen this piece?’” Bonami said. “And you will have not seen it.”
This is particularly true, he added, for openings, which he describes as “basically a very self-celebratory moment. At the end of the day, you just feel a sense of exclusion, like you missed a work of art, or you missed a party or something.”
“The beauty of art is that you are the one in charge of your own experience,” Bonami added. So another solution is to organize your time around pre-selected highlights.
When Krishnamurthy does the circuit, he typically “hones in on a handful of key things that I want to make sure that I see, and then I really try to see those and spend time with them.”
Nawi said she had a friend who missed most of a biennial because they spent four hours at a single artist’s performance.
“I feel like that was this really beautiful thing, for them to just stay with it,” she said. “They experienced the entirety of the biennial in front of that performance versus having seen every object.”
The British pavilion at the 2017 Venice Biennale. It was madness. (Photo by Awakening/Getty Images)
Embrace the Madness
Not that you’re guaranteed to miss a lot: not all major art  events are spread out over multiple venues.
Since the Whitney Biennial, for example, is housed in one building, “it is more human in scale,” Bonami said. “I think people, maybe, absorb it in a better way than the Venice Biennale.”
Even so, Bonami only expects people to remember a handful of artworks in the end. 
So perhaps the very best thing to do is not to devise strategies, but simply to accept the undertaking for what it is.
“The absurdity of the endeavor is so much part of it,” Massimiliano Gioni, who organized the 2013 Venice Biennale, explained. “The fact that people are still congregating periodically to look at art made in 80-plus countries in the world, there is a kind of madness to it. So, I say, embrace the madness.”
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As the 50th anniversary of Pablo Picasso’s death approaches in 2023, news has poured in about conservation research into three Blue Period works. 
In 2014, researchers announced a “hidden” portrait beneath The Blue Room (1901) and, four years later, revealed a dozen layers beneath The Soup (1903), plus a landscape below Crouching Beggarwoman (1902). 
The fruits of this research are now being shared with the public in “Picasso: Painting the Blue Period” (until June 12), an exhibition at the Phillips Collection in Washington, DC.
Since the 2018 announcement, researchers at the Phillips, which owns The Blue Room, have honed their analysis with the aid of colleagues in other institutions. National Gallery of Art imaging scientist John Delaney, for example, scanned The Blue Room four times (most recently in 2019) with increasingly refined and sensitive instruments, according to Phillips curator Susan Behrends Frank, to peel back the history of the work.
Each scan “brought forward additional information about elemental materials and clarity of detail in the portrait of the man beneath the surface image,” she said.
“We want people to see this well-known artist in a fresh light—to see him at the very beginning of his career internationally,” Behrends Frank added. “We want people to see how rich this very early moment is in his career, and the conservation science in this exhibition gives you another window into thinking about the creative process of an artist that seems to be so well known.”
An infrared reflectance image of The Blue Room showing the portrait of an unknown man. The canvas is rotated 90 degrees clockwise. Image: John Delaney and Kathryn Dooley, National Gallery of Art.
The Blue Room, which is the first of the three major Blue Period canvases that exhibition visitors encounter, was originally titled The Toilette when Duncan Phillips purchased it in 1927 as his first Picasso acquisition.
It was just the third to enter a U.S. museum after the Art Institute of Chicago acquired The Old Guitarist (1903-4) and Albright-Knox Art Gallery acquired La Toilette (1906) the prior year.
For decades, conservators knew something lay hidden beneath, because some brushstrokes went the wrong way, and underlying forms peeked through. The surface depicts a nude woman, head bowed, washing herself over a basin in a room into which light streams from a window on the left. A bureau and chest flank the window, and a colorful rug, table with flowers, and bed round out the interior.
The bather’s pose, which evokes the works of Edgar Degas and Auguste Rodin, plus Picasso’s addition of two pictures into the scene, reveal his broader artistic mission. 
The artist used ultramarine blue, which was costlier than his typical Blue Period Prussian blue paint, to include an image on the bedroom wall of Henri de Toulouse-Lautrec’s poster “May Milton,” as a way of associating himself with one of his idols. Researchers now believe that the underpainting of the man was done in mid-summer 1901, giving the final version of The Blue Room an early- to mid-November 1901 date, rather than the prior scholarly consensus of summer 1901.
This means Picasso painted the final work shortly after he turned 20, which is significant for an artist who told biographer Pierre Daix that his friend Carles Casagemas’s suicide at that age “got me started painting in blue.” (Casagemas worked in the same studio as Picasso and died in a cafe just down the street that February.)
Notedly, the new dating also means that Picasso memorialized Lautrec with The Blue Room, as Lautrec died in September 1901 at age 36. (Prior dating would have meant that Picasso painted the work while Lautrec was still alive.) 
Picasso may have done the underpainting to curry favor with someone, or it may have been an archetype of someone he saw at Montmartre, Behrends Frank said. She added that conservators’ new understanding of how thinly and quickly Picasso painted The Blue Room supports artist Jaume Sabartés’s recollection, in his memoir of 1901, that Picasso worked seemingly with tunnel vision, focusing all his energy on creating. 
“Our painting really confirms that entire manner of his concentration and process,” Behrends Frank said.
Research into two more Blue Period pictures from the Art Gallery of Ontario, Crouching Beggarwoman and The Soup, also chart new understandings of Picasso’s process.
Pablo Picasso, Crouching Beggarwoman (1902). © 2022 Estate of Pablo Picasso / Artists Rights Society (ARS), New York
In the former, Picasso first drew the woman holding bread (or a bowl) in her hand. But he later changed his mind, and enshrouded both hands in the woman’s cloak. 
“By covering that up and enclosing the figure completely, so all we see is her face, it gave her a totally different presentation and meaning,” Behrends Frank said. 
Scans of the work showed a landscape beneath. It is unknown if Picasso painted that work, which was also initially a mystery.
“We thought this was a fantasy [scene] inspired by [painter Pierre] Puvis de Chavannes,” Behrends Frank said.
But when she and her colleagues showed the under-image to Josep Laplana, director of the Museum of Montserrat, he said he knew what it depicted.
“Immediately, he recognized that it’s this private park now owned by the city of Barcelona,” Behrends Frank said. (There is no record of Picasso having visited the park, which would have been closed to the public in the early 20th century.)
Pablo Picasso The Soup (1903). © 2022 Estate of Pablo Picasso / Artists Rights Society (ARS), New York
In The Soup, Picasso had initially considered a male figure giving bread to a boy or a girl, until he changed it to a woman giving soup to a girl. The image was an “obsession” to Picasso, according to Behrends Frank.
“He was completely struggling with this idea of how to convey something about the universal charity that one associates with soup as a form of nourishment,” she said.
“We think of soup kitchens even today. In Picasso’s mind, he was trying to find a way to universalize this and not simply make it a genre picture, but to give it heft.”
Looking ahead, Behrends Frank thinks there is more work to be done, especially on the many Blue Period works that are in Russia, which have been x-rayed but not subjected to deeper kinds of scans. 
“I’m sure those curators and conservators would love to be able to take this next step that is being done in Europe and the U.S.,” she said.
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The Modernist painter Ernst Wilhelm Nay (1902–1968) has long been a staple of German public collections, beloved for his saturated colors and dynamic compositions, which were inflected by Expressionism, Art Informel, and abstraction over the course of his career. Yet even in his home country, there are still dimensions of his work that remain to be discovered, and a retrospective now on view at the Hamburger Kunsthalle—of 120 paintings, watercolors, and drawings, the largest show of his oeuvre in 30 years—seeks to contextualize lesser-known works and introduce Nay’s practice to new audiences.
“The exhibition is the first comprehensive show in decades, and it is addressed to a new generation of viewers and people who might not be so aware” of the artist’s early career, explained Aurel Scheibler, chairman of the board of the Ernst Wilhelm Nay Foundation, which was created in 2005. “It shows a thread that connects all these different periods of his work.” (Scheibler, who is also an art dealer based in Berlin, is the step-grandson of Nay.)
Exhibition view of Ernst Wilhelm Nay’s retrospective at Hamburger Kunsthalle. Courtesy Ernst Wilhelm Nay Stiftung.
Nay, who studied under Karl Hofer at Berlin’s Akademie der Künste, began painting in the late 1910s and was an accomplished artist by the outbreak of World War II. His work was labeled as “degenerate art” and around ten of his works were confiscated from museum collections. The artist himself destroyed one of his own works for fear of reprisal.
In need of money, Nay joined the army in 1939 and was posted to the Eastern front, followed by France. He managed to continue to make art when he was off duty, painting for a time at the studio of an amateur artist he befriended in France. His studio in Berlin was bombed during air raids of the German capital. “He was more free to work [abroad] than in Berlin,” Scheibler said, but “it was hard to get canvases, so he made more so gouaches and works on paper.” Scheibler added that this period of work, as well as that from just before the war, is very rare and of great interest to collectors.
After the war, Nay’s international career took off when he participated in the Venice Biennale in 1948 and the first-ever Documenta in Kassel in 1955 (its curator, Arnold Bode, would also include him in the next two editions). In 1956, Nay represented Germany at the Venice Biennale. He caused a stir at the third Documenta when he presented his now-celebrated “Eye Paintings,” which were hung from the ceiling—a move that divided audiences at the time. He died in his studio in Cologne in 1968.
Ernst Wilhelm Nay, Couple with butterflies (1939). Alexeyev-Brandl Collection. © Ernst Wilhelm Nay Foundation. VG Bild-Kunst, Bonn 2022. Photo: Trevor Good.
Magdalene Claesges, scientific director and head of the Nay foundation’s archives in Cologne, said that scholarly and market focus has predominantly been on his famous “Disk Paintings,” and the retrospective—which was curated by Karin Schick—seeks to offer a more polyphonic perspective on his career, which went through many other phases.
Works from between 1954 and 1962 known as the “Scheibenbilder” have long been in demand: a painting from the period, titled Scheiben und Halbscheiben (1955),set a record for the artist at Ketterer Kunst in 2017, selling for €2.3 million ($2.6 million), well above its €250,000 ($412,007) estimate, according to the Artnet Price Database.
But other periods, including that of the “Fugale Bilder,” which preceded it from 1949 to 1951, have been overlooked and under-studied, Scheibler noted. “This period of his work marks a transition from the more figurative work he was making in the 1940s to his later works, which are more abstract. It is a period that is more flat and constructed,” he said.
Though interest in the artist in Germany has long been strong, more recently major institutions in Europe have made moves to collect his work. The Centre Pompidou in Paris, which acquired Inferno Hallelujah (1964), a moody canvas with his iconic eyes in deep crimsons and blues, in 2014, while the Musée National d’Art Moderne de la Ville de Paris acquired Blau—Orange und Gelb (1967) in 2016. Scheibler said, “People are rediscovering him as one of the major postwar painters of Europe.”
Ernst Wilhelm Nay’s retrospective is on view at the Hamburger Kunsthalle in Hamburg, Germany, March 25 through August 7, 2022.
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Elmgreen and Dragset have taken over the Fondazione Prada in Milan for a show titled”Useless Bodies?” that focuses on Big Tech and its impact on our lives.
The works, according to an exhibition statement, explore “present condition of the body in the post-industrial age, in which it seems that our physical presence is losing its centrality.”
The body, indeed, may even now be “completely superfluous.”
“One could claim our physical selves have even become more of an obstacle than an advantage,” the artists said in a statement. “Twenty years into the 21st century, the status of the body is now that of the product—with our data gathered and sold by Big Tech.”
Many of the figures in the works are in precarious positions: climbing walls, perched atop a ladder, stuffed into the backseat of a car, and—in one particularly unsettling case—rolled half inside a morgue’s cooling freezer.
See more works from the show below.
“Elmgreen & Dragset: Useless Bodies?” is on view through August 22, 2022.
Exhibition view “Useless Bodies?” by Elmgreen & Dragset at Fondazione Prada, Milan. Photo: Andrea Rossetti. Courtesy of Fondazione Prada.
Elmgreen & Dragset’s Watching (2021) in the exhibition “Useless Bodies?” by Elmgreen & Dragset at Fondazione Prada, Milan. Photo: Andrea Rossetti. Courtesy of Fondazione Prada.
Exhibition view “Useless Bodies?” by Elmgreen & Dragset at Fondazione Prada, Milan. Photo: Andrea Rossetti. Courtesy of Fondazione Prada.
Exhibition view “Useless Bodies?” by Elmgreen & Dragset at Fondazione Prada, Milan. Photo: Andrea Rossetti. Courtesy of Fondazione Prada.
Exhibition view “Useless Bodies?” by Elmgreen & Dragset at Fondazione Prada, Milan. Photo: Andrea Rossetti. Courtesy of Fondazione Prada.
Exhibition view “Useless Bodies?” by Elmgreen & Dragset at Fondazione Prada, Milan. Photo: Andrea Rossetti. Courtesy of Fondazione Prada.
Elmgreen & Dragset’s Piscina di Largo Iscaro (2021) in the exhibition “Useless Bodies?” by Elmgreen & Dragset at Fondazione Prada, Milan. Photo: Andrea Rossetti. Courtesy of Fondazione Prada.
Elmgreen & Dragset’s What’s Left? (2021) in the exhibition “Useless Bodies?” by Elmgreen & Dragset at Fondazione Prada, Milan. Photo: Andrea Rossetti. Courtesy of Fondazione Prada.
Exhibition view “Useless Bodies?” by Elmgreen & Dragset at Fondazione Prada, Milan. Photo: Andrea Rossetti. Courtesy of Fondazione Prada.
Exhibition view “Useless Bodies?” by Elmgreen & Dragset at Fondazione Prada, Milan. Photo: Andrea Rossetti. Courtesy of Fondazione Prada.
Elmgreen & Dragset, Bogdan (2020). Courtesy: KÖNIG GALERIE, Berlin, London, Seoul Photo by: Roman März.
Elmgreen & Dragset, The Touch (2011). Courtesy of Perrotin. Photo: Anders Sune Berg.
Exhibition view “Useless Bodies?” by Elmgreen & Dragset at Fondazione Prada, Milan. Photo: Andrea Rossetti. Courtesy of Fondazione Prada.
Elmgreen & Dragset, Statue of Liberty, Fig. 2 (2021). Installation view, 14th Robert Jacobsen Prize of the Würth Foundation, Museum Würth 2, Künzelsau, Germany, 2021. Photo: Studio Elmgreen & Dragset.
Exhibition view “Useless Bodies?” by Elmgreen & Dragset at Fondazione Prada, Milan. Photo: Andrea Rossetti. Courtesy of Fondazione Prada.
Elmgreen & Dragset, The Painter, Fig. 2 (2021). Photo: Elmar Vestner. Courtesy, Pace Gallery, New York.
Elmgreen & Dragset, The Outsiders (2020). Installation view, Art Basel. Photo: Sebastiano Pellion di Persano. Courtesy, Pace Gallery, New York.
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