Eliana Willis

What do Nike sneakers and Native American art have in common? For Vancouver-based artist Brian Jungen, it’s clear: they’re both highly commodified.
When the artist, who’s heritage is Dane-zaa, visited a Nike store in the early 1990s, he saw pristine leather and rubber shoes sitting in vitrines, like priceless relics, ogled and swooned over by throngs of visitors. The artist began to make connections between the color schemes, shapes, and patterns in the sneakers and those in native northwest coast masks. 
In an exclusive interview filmed as part of Art21’s “Art in the Twenty-First Century” series in 2016, the artist described the commonalities as a “strange coincidence,” and then got to work with the spark of an idea.
“There was this kind of illicit thrill I got,” he told Art21, in “buying these AirJordans and, like, immediately starting to kind of cut them up.” Carving up the shoes, Jungen creates new objects from the materials, which he sews together and reconstitutes as artworks that recall native masks from British Columbia tribes, as well as modernist abstractions. 
Brian Jungen, installation view of “The Evening Redness in the West” (2006). Photo: SITE Photography. Courtesy Catriona Jeffries, Vancouver, courtesy of the Hammer Museum.
Jungen’s work is now on view at L.A.’s Hammer Museum as part of the “Hammer Contemporary Collection” series of exhibitions. For the installation The Evening Redness in the West (2006), the artist sliced up softballs to create skull-like objects, the sewing stitches creating garish skeletal grins in the leather. The skulls are attached to cords linking to a DVD player that blasts audio from old Western films, pointing to the history of colonialism and violence inflicted on native communities in Hollywood (and beyond).
In his work, Jungen subtly, yet deftly highlights the unsavory and exploitative aspects of consumer culture that are so often ignored, all while paying homage to his native roots.
Watch the video, which originally appeared as part of Art21’s Art in the Twenty-First Century series, below. “Hammer Contemporary Collection: Brian Jungen” is on view through October 31, 2021 at the Hammer Museum.
[embedded content]

This is an installment of “Art on Video,” a collaboration between Artnet News and Art21 that brings you clips of newsmaking artists. A new series of the nonprofit Art21’s flagship series Art in the Twenty-First Century is available now on PBS. Catch all episodes of other series, like New York Close Up and Extended Play, and learn about the organization’s educational programs at Art21.org.
Follow Artnet News on Facebook: Want to stay ahead of the art world? Subscribe to our newsletter to get the breaking news, eye-opening interviews, and incisive critical takes that drive the conversation forward. More

Visitors to the Mile High City can lose themselves in the intergalactic funhouse that is Convergence Station, the third permanent exhibition from art collective-turned-multimillion-dollar arts production company Meow Wolf.
Nestled on an oddly-shaped lot between two arms of freeway overpasses, the new immersive art attraction fills a 90,000-square-foot custom-built facility, with four floors of interactive art installations that promise hours of exploration. (For context: it’s larger than both the Whitney Museum of American Art and the Solomon R. Guggenheim Museum in New York.)
Founded by a group of young artists in Santa Fe in 2008, Meow Wolf got $3.5 million in funding from Game of Thrones author and local resident George R.R. Martin to open its first permanent location in 2016. The House of Eternal Return was an immediate sensation, drawing crowds eager to experience—and take photos amid—its immersive environment of what appears at first glance to be an abandoned family home, but is somehow tied to portals to other dimensions.
The project’s success presaged the explosion of interest in immersive experiences, which in recent years have multiplied worldwide and become the most popular way for the general public to experience arts and culture.
Meow Wolf launched ambitious plans to expand to other cities around the country, and a second location, Las Vegas’s Omega Mart, opened in February of this year. (The pandemic scuttled outposts in Washington, D.C., and Phoenix, but the founders promised Artnet News that other ventures are on the horizon.)
A room by Andrea Thurber at Meow Wolf Convergence Station, Denver. Photo by Kennedy Cottrell.
Like its predecessors, Convergence Station is more than an art show. It’s a world unto itself—or four of them, to be precise, each representing a parallel universe that, as the lore goes, merged during a mysterious cosmic event back in 1994. There’s an frozen planet trapped in a 1,000-year ice age, a trash-filled city, a mysterious network of catacombs, and a six-dimensional being taking the form of a cavern that calls to mind Jim Henson’s Fraggle Rock.
The installations are all constructed around Meow Wolf’s elaborate, Marvel-style mythology. According to the lore, the Quantum Department of Transportation, or Q-DOT, opened the Convergence Station as a tourist destination for intergalactic travelers. But mysterious weather events called memory storms forced it to shut down. The memories of denizens of all four lands have fragmented and scattered, and the resulting free-floating “mems” have become a valuable form of currency in the Converged Worlds.
Should you wish to explore this complicated backstory, you can get a Q Pass card (which will either be free or cost $1) and tap into the Convergence Exchange Network devices. Piecing together matching mems will reveal short pieces of animated content that begin to unfold the backstory of the characters and the deeper mystery of how the convergence came to be. More

For the first time in nearly 20 years, the late Abstract Expressionist painter Joan Mitchell is the subject of a major U.S. museum show, bringing together more than 80 canvases at the San Francisco Museum of Modern Art.
The show, organized with the support of the Joan Mitchell Foundation, opens with a pair of Mitchell’s student works, painted in a Cubist style right after her graduation from the Art Institute of Chicago while she was visiting Paris, where she would move permanently in 1959.
One of those canvases, Figure and the City (1949–50), “was a touchstone for us,” Sarah Roberts, SFMOMA’s head of painting and sculpture, told Artnet News during a tour of the show. “Mitchell said that when she painted it, she knew it was going to be the last figurative painting she ever made. And it was very much about the psychology and the mood of the figure, and the landscape around her.”
Not long after came Mitchell’s breakthrough period, and the works that established her as a key member of the New York School of painters.
Joan Mitchell, Untitled (1948). Photo by Kris Graves, collection of Joan Mitchell Foundation, ©estate of Joan Mitchell, courtesy of Cheim and Read, New York.
“There’s transition for every artist from being a student or a young person to being a full-fledged artist,” Katy Siegel, senior programming and research curator at the Baltimore Museum of Art, told Artnet News. “Where Mitchell finds herself is incredibly thrilling, so the declarativeness and definitiveness of a work like To the Harbormaster [1957], which is so ambitious in scale, is really important.”
From the start of Mitchell’s career, her self-assurance as an artist was clear, and she seemed to be comfortable expressing her power in a variety of ways.
“She was an athletic genius. She was not only a diver and and horseback rider, Mitchell was an actual champion figure skater,” Siegel said. “Her confidence in her physicality, her ability to move big paintings by herself, to really navigate a very large canvas, that is really unusual.”
Joan Mitchell, To the Harbormaster (1957). Photo by Tony Prikryl; AKSArt LP; ©estate of Joan Mitchell.
Roberts and Siegel co-curated the exhibition, which was originally slated to debut at the Baltimore Museum in 2020. (It will now be the show’s second venue.) Plans for “Joan Mitchell” to travel to the Guggenheim in New York had to be scrapped when lockdowns scrambled exhibition calendars. Instead, it will head to the Fondation Louis Vuitton in Paris next fall.
The show coincides with an ongoing resurgence of interest in Mitchell’s work and her place in the Ab-Ex movement. The show was announced in 2018, during the Art Basel fair in Switzerland, where around $70 million worth of art by Mitchell was on offer. The artist also set a new $16.6 million auction record that month, according to the Artnet Price Database.
But even with the recent market surge—which made insuring the show a far more complicated prospect, according to organizers—Mitchell’s work is “still undervalued, in my opinion,” Roberts said. In comparison, Franz Kline’s work has fetched up to $40.4 million at auction; Jackson Pollock, $58.36 million; Willem de Kooning, $68.9 million.
More important for the curators, however, is that any rise in Mitchell’s market be matched by an increase in scholarly interest in her more than four-decade career, which, like that of so many other women artists, was for a time largely written out of the art historical canon.
Joan Mitchell, Petit Matin (1982). Photo by Ian Lefebvre; private collection; ©estate of Joan Mitchell.
“There are so many stories that need to be told by museums, for women artists, artists of color, LGBTQ artists. With Mitchell, here is an artist who is a woman who is a really great artist, no questions asked, no equivocations. That’s what we wanted to do with the show first and foremost,” Siegel said. “If one of the ways that gets expressed is the market, that’s fine, but that’s the least interesting way.”
Despite the obstacles faced by women artists of her era, Mitchell remained an integral part of the Abstract Expressionist movement. “In 1950, Mitchell comes back to New York [from Paris] and she immediately starts showing,” Roberts said. “The labeling of her as ‘Second Generation’ is such a disservice, because she was very much there and being shown and discussed and respected and part of the conversation. They only apply that term to women and artists of color.”
“There’s a very specific understanding of Mitchell in the United States that is completely rooted in that New York, early 1950s, Ab-Ex moment,” Roberts added. “People look at the rest of her work as either a tailing off from that high point, or they discuss it in the same terminology when it radically changes.”
Joan Mitchell, Vétheuil (1967–68). Photo by Brian Buckley; courtesy of Joan Mitchell Catalogue Raisonne; private collection; ©estate of Joan Mitchell.
“We wanted to unmoor her from the 1950s, and put the different parts of her career together to tell a Transatlantic story,” Siegel added.
Siegel and Roberts hope that the show will underscore Mitchell’s undeniable artistic genius—but they also acknowledge her dark side.
“Mitchell was a difficult person. Anyone you talked to would will tell you stories of fights, her saying unconscionably unkind things to people. She was an alcoholic, and not a nice one, so she alienated a lot of people over the course of her life,” Roberts said. “But you will also find people, particularly younger artists, to whom she was very nurturing. She was a very complicated person.”
Joan Mitchell, Sans neige (1969). Collection of the Carnegie Museum of Art, Pittsburgh, purchased with funds provided by the Hillman Foundation; ©estate of Joan Mitchell.
To help paint a more complete picture of the artist’s career outside of that highly visible New York moment, the curators sought out rarely exhibited works by Mitchell, such as Sans neige (1969). The 16.5-foot-wide painting was her first large-scale triptych, and it hasn’t been shown since the late 1970s, when the Carnegie Museum of Art in Pittsburgh decided that the student library wasn’t the safest place to display a work of such magnitude.
“It had been in storage ever since,” Roberts said. “It needed some treatment, but the museum rallied their team and resources, and heroically got the painting ready to travel.”
The work illustrates the importance of landscape in Mitchell’s abstract visual language—a factor to which she had been attuned since her Chicago childhood, when she grew up in a tower overlooking Lake Michigan.
Joan Mitchell, My Landscape II (1967). Collection of the Smithsonian American Art Museum, Washington, D.C., gift of Mr. and Mrs. David K. Anderson, Martha Jackson Memorial Collection; ©estate of Joan Mitchell.
“Mitchell talked throughout her entire life about how formative the wind, the weather, the light, the color, and the constant changing of the lake was to her sense of landscape and to her visual intelligence,” Roberts said.
This influence becomes more pronounced in the second half of the show, with works made in France in the 1970s and ’80s, inspired by everything from Paris Metro stations to sailing on the Mediterranean with her long-time partner Jean-Paul Riopelle. (He documented those trips in home movies, a snippet of which plays on loop in the gallery.)
The exhibition is arranged chronologically, following Mitchell across the decades. “We wanted to tell the story of Mitchell’s art from Mitchell’s perspective, as she experienced it, in suites or cycles of work,” Siegel said.
There’s the moment when Mitchell and Riopelle put a final end to their fraught 20-year relationship, and she responds with La Vie en rose (1979), a four-panel masterpiece measuring more than 22 feet wide.
Joan Mitchell, La Vie en Rose (1979). Collection of the Metropolitan Museum of Art, New York, anonymous gift and purchase, George A. Hearn Fund, by exchange; ©estate of Joan Mitchell.
“It’s an incredibly tough, but very ambitious declaration of independence and philosophy and mourning and grief all at the same time,” Roberts said.
“As a woman alone, she’s really rising to the occasion and making paintings at a scale that she’s never made before,” Siegel agreed.
The exhibition ends with works made just months before the artist’s death, from lung cancer in 1992. The powerful paintings clearly show Mitchell still exploring new ideas on massive canvases despite her illness.
“Mitchell knowns she’s not in great health, and she knows her time is limited, and she’s really fully herself,” Siegel said.
Joan Mitchell, Sunflowers (1990–91). Photo by Brian Buckley; courtesy of Joan Mitchell Catalogue Raisonne; ©estate of Joan Mitchell.
“She keeps trying new things and pushing herself, and you see that right to the end,” Roberts added.
In the early stages of planning, the curators hoped to include as many as 125 pieces, including a large selection of Mitchell’s works on paper. In the end, the scope proved somewhat narrower.
“We couldn’t do everything,” Siegel said. “We hope that this overview is definitive when it comes to the big picture of Mitchell, but there’s so much more to do.”
“Joan Mitchell” is on view at the San Francisco Museum of Modern Art September 4, 2021–January 17, 2022. It will travel to the Baltimore Museum of Art, 10 Art Museum Drive, Baltimore, Maryland, March 6, 2022—August 14, 2022; and the Fondation Louis Vuitton, 8 Av. du Mahatma Gandhi, 75116 Paris, France, fall 2022. 
Joan Mitchell, La Ligne de la rupture (1970–71). Photo by Clint Jenkins; private collection; ©estate of Joan Mitchell.
Joan Mitchell, City Landscape (1955). Photo by Aimee Marshall the Art Institute of Chicago, gift of Society for Contemporary American Art, ©estate of Joan Mitchell.
Joan Mitchell, Ode to Joy (A Poem by Frank O’Hara) 1970–71. Photo by Biff Henrich for ING_INK, Buffalo, New York; collection of University at Buffalo Art Galleries, gift of Rebecca Anderson; ©estate of Joan Mitchell.
Joan Mitchell, Rock Bottom (1960). Collection of the Blanton Museum of Art, the University of Texas at Austin, gift of Mari and James A. Michener; ©estate of Joan Mitchell.
Joan Mitchell, The Bridge (1956). Photo by Kris Graves; Fredriksen Family Art Collection; ©estate of Joan Mitchell.
Joan Mitchell, Untitled (1973). Photo by Brian Buckley for Joan Mitchell Catalogue Raisonne; private collection; ©estate of Joan Mitchell.
Joan Mitchell, No Birds (1987–88). Photo by Kris Graves, ©estate of Joan Mitchell.
Joan Mitchell, Untitled (1992). Photo courtesy of Cheim and Read, New York, Komal Shah and Gaurav Garg Collection, ©estate of Joan Mitchell.
Joan Mitchell, Lyric (1951). Photo by Chip Porter; collection of the Frances Lehman Loeb Art Center, Vassar College, Poughkeepsie, New York, gift of William Rubin; ©estate of Joan Mitchell.
Joan Mitchell, Bracket (1989). Photo by Katherine Du Tiel; the Doris and Donald Fisher Collection at the San Francisco Museum of Modern Art; ©estate of Joan Mitchell.
Joan Mitchell, No Rain (1976). Collection the Museum of Modern Art, New York, gift of the estate of Joan Mitchell; ©estate of Joan Mitchell.
Joan Mitchell, Weeds (1976). Photo by Ian Lefebvre for the Art Gallery of Ontario; collection of irshhorn Museum and Sculpture Garden, Smithsonian Institution, Washington, D.C., gift of Joseph H. Hirshhorn; ©estate of Joan Mitchell.
Follow Artnet News on Facebook: Want to stay ahead of the art world? Subscribe to our newsletter to get the breaking news, eye-opening interviews, and incisive critical takes that drive the conversation forward. More

For Gallery Weekend Berlin, it seems the second time’s the charm. This year, the event decided to split off into two separate iterations, in April and September, in part to uplift galleries at a time of great uncertainty over fair calendar, but also because its usual spring slot has, for the past two years, coincided with significant health restrictions in the city.
The weekend city-wides series of exhibitions is normally a time when out-of-town collectors bop around the sprawled-out city’s galleries in event-sponsored BMWs. Over the years, dealers have tended to report strong sales relative to the low cost of staging presentations from the comfort of their own galleries.
And though this year was markedly different, moods remained high. Collectors from within Europe—and at least one from China—passed through the city-wide event on their way to Art Basel, which is opening today. The timing proved a little tight for German dealers trying to head there early to install at the fair’s Unlimited or Parcours sections this past weekend. Because most dealers had to leave, participants convinced Gallery Weekend to close on Sunday, a day earlier than originally planned.
Thornton Dial’s All the Cats in Town (1993) at Société.
Despite the hurdles, the event this week had an air of triumph. Most of the 47 participating galleries followed the brief to present a so-called “discovery” position—giving space, an increasingly precious commodity in Berlin, to younger or emerging artists (with lower price points, usually) who have a bent towards experimentation.
Germany-based artists were among the most exciting presentations, including Brook Hsu, who showed moody green-hued paintings at Kraupa-Tuskany Zeidler. At Esther Schipper, newly represented Berlin-based artist Cemile Sahin considered her Kurdish migrant background with a contemporary reflection on the treaty of Sèvres, which redrew borders after World War I and deconstructed the Ottoman Empire (one of the works was bought by the Bundeskunsthalle, Germany’s federal art collection and exhibition space).
At Guido W. Baudach, the young German artist Jasmin Werner, considered the strange saga of the Palast der Republik, the former East German seat of government that was destroyed to make way for the Humboldt Forum. (The building’s remains were sold off to Dubai to become a part of the Burj Khalifa.)
Cemille Sahin. Courtesy the artist and Esther Schipper, Berlin. Photo © Andrea Rossetti.
The gallery Société opted not to show a discovery per se, but an artist long overlooked in Europe, the Alabama-born painter Thornton Dial, who died in 2016. Working with the artist’s estate, David Lewis Gallery, and Souls Grown Deep Foundation, the gallery managed to bring half a dozen large, sculptural canvases comprised of materials from everyday life in America.
On the whole, the city was in a discovery mode: An election is underway, which means a whole new host of politicians will begin to shape the city’s fragile cultural landscape—and top museum positions were filled last week, including by Klaus Biesenbach, who is taking the reins at Neue Nationalgalerie. In the meantime, the city teeters is on a precipice, gridlocked by a lack of space, be it homes, studios, or gallery spaces.
See images of the exhibitions below.
Courtesy the artist & Galerie Guido W. Baudach. Photo: Roman März
Robert Rehfeldt, Installation view at ChertLudde during Gallery Weekend, September 2021. Photo by Stefan Korte.
Christophe Aque, Installation view at Sweetwater during Gallery Weekend, September 2021, Photo by Stefan Korte.
Win McCarthy, Installation view at Galerie Neu during Gallery Weekend, September 2021, Photo by Stefan Korte.
Follow Artnet News on Facebook: Want to stay ahead of the art world? Subscribe to our newsletter to get the breaking news, eye-opening interviews, and incisive critical takes that drive the conversation forward. More

For her debut exhibition at Hauser & Wirth, New York City-based artist Avery Singer has cemented her place as one of the most in-demand young artists working today—and, at 34, the youngest artist on the blue-chip gallery’s roster.
Singer’s series of 14 paintings line the walls of the gallery’s second- and fifth-floor and show off the Singer’s deft blending of analog and digital, combining disparate narratives and themes. A bona fide art star whose work has been heralded at the Venice Biennale and is coveted at auction, Singer has clearly hit her stride.
In the works on view, some of which are noted as being “studies,” Singer’s intensive, layered process is clear. Each canvas becomes a portal to tapping into the hive mind, where references to art history and internet memes sit cheek to jowl, and it’s easy to imagine references to artists as diverse as Keith Haring and M.C. Escher, Bunny Rogers and Sarah Sze, Julie Mehretu and Giorgio Morandi buzzing about.
One of the new works, China Chalet (2021), eulogizes the erstwhile “unassuming dim sum restaurant” that doubled as a sweaty den of iniquity for the young and restless denizens of lower Manhattan. The fractured work has a lot of White Claw cans, iPhones, and what looks to be a prescription pill bottle.
Avery Singer, China Chalet (2021). Courtesy the artist, Hauser & Wirth, and Kraupa-Tuskany Zeidler, Berlin.© Avery Singer Photo: Lance Brewer.
Another work, titled Wojak Battle Scene, features the meme-ified Feels Guy, a sad bald man who entered a certain corner of Internet culture in the early 2010s.
According to former Artnet News columnist Nate Freeman, Singer’s larger canvases carried a price tag of a cool $1.2 million. Singer remains the most expensive millennial artist—and Marc Payot told Vanity Fair that interest remains high, noting “it’s not a question of if we sell but when we sell.”
“Avery Singer: Reality Ender” is on view at Hauser & Wirth through October 30. See more images from the show, below.
Installation view “Avery Singer. Reality Ender” at Hauser & Wirth, New York. Picturing: Studio (2019); Sculptor (2021); and Wojack Battle Scene (2021). © Avery Singer, courtesy the artist, Hauser & Wirth, and Kraupa-Tuskany Zeidler, Berlin. Photo: Lance Brewer.
Avery Singer, Happening (2021). Courtesy the artist, Hauser & Wirth, and Kraupa-Tuskany Zeidler, Berlin.© Avery Singer Photo: Lance Brewer.
Avery Singer, Sculptor (2021). Courtesy the artist, Hauser & Wirth, and Kraupa-Tuskany Zeidler, Berlin.© Avery Singer Photo: Lance Brewer.
Installation view “Avery Singer. Reality Ender” at Hauser & Wirth, New York. Picturing: Studio (2019) and Sculptor ( 2021). © Avery Singer, courtesy the artist, Hauser & Wirth, and Kraupa-Tuskany Zeidler, Berlin. Photo: Lance Brewer.
Installation view, “Avery SInger. Reality Ender” at Hauser & Wirth New York. Picturing: Side Quest (2021); Sculptor (Study) (2021); Sculptor (2021); and Happening (2021). © Avery Singer, courtesy the artist, Hauser & Wirth, and Kraupa-Tuskany Zeidler, Berlin. Photo: Lance Brewer.
Installation view “Avery Singer. Reality Ender” at Hauser & Wirth, New York. Picturing: Studio (2019); Sculptor (2021); and Wojack Battle Scene (2021). © Avery Singer, courtesy the artist, Hauser & Wirth, and Kraupa-Tuskany Zeidler, Berlin. Photo: Lance Brewer.
Installation view “Avery Singer. Reality Ender” at Hauser & Wirth, New York. Picturing: Technique (2021); China Chalet (2021); and Edgelord (2021). © Avery Singer, courtesy the artist, Hauser & Wirth, and Kraupa-Tuskany Zeidler, Berlin. Photo: Lance Brewer.
Follow Artnet News on Facebook: Want to stay ahead of the art world? Subscribe to our newsletter to get the breaking news, eye-opening interviews, and incisive critical takes that drive the conversation forward. More