More stories

  • Philip Guston’s Daughter and Other Critics Speak Out Against Four Museums’ Decision to Postpone a Major Retrospective on the Artist

    A long-planned traveling Philip Guston retrospective has been postponed for three years over concerns about how the work will be received amid heightened racial tensions and ongoing protests both in the US and abroad.
    This is actually the second delay for the show, titled “Philip Guston Now,” which was announced in June 2019. It was originally set to open June 7, 2020, at National Gallery of Art in Washington, DC, before traveling to the Museum of Fine Arts in Houston, the Tate Modern in London, and the Museum of Fine Arts, Boston. Those dates were pushed back to July 2021 due to extended museum closures. Now, curators plan to completely rethink the show ahead of a newly set 2024 opening.
    “The racial justice movement that started in the US and radiated to countries around the world, in addition to challenges of a global health crisis, have led us to pause,” the four museums said in a joint statement posted on the National Gallery website on Monday. “We feel it is necessary to reframe our programming and, in this case, step back, and bring in additional perspectives and voices to shape how we present Guston’s work to our public. That process will take time.”
    At issue are Guston’s paintings that feature hooded Ku Klux Klan figures. The exhibition was set to have featured 25 drawings and paintings from that body of work, representatives from the museum told Artnet News. “Because they are an important part of Guston’s oeuvre, we sought to find a way to include them while being mindful of the context that would be required for viewers to better understand why Guston made them,” said a joint email from seven representatives of the four museums. “As issues of race and social justice have become increasingly part of public dialogue over the last several months, it became apparent we needed to rethink our interpretation of these works.”

    Philip Guston, Painting, Smoking, Eating (1973). Courtesy of the Stedelijk Museum/©the estate of Philip Guston.The postponement has been met with opposition from Musa Mayer, the artist’s daughter and head of the Guston Foundation. “Half a century ago, my father made a body of work that shocked the art world,” Mayer said in a statement. “Not only had he violated the canon of what a noted abstract artist should be painting at a time of particularly doctrinaire art criticism, but he dared to hold up a mirror to white America, exposing the banality of evil and the systemic racism we are still struggling to confront today.”
    Regarding Guston’s Klan figures, Mayer said, “They plan, they plot, they ride around in cars smoking cigars. We never see their acts of hatred. We never know what is in their minds. But it is clear that they are us. Our denial, our concealment,” she added. “My father dared to unveil white culpability, our shared role in allowing the racist terror that he had witnessed since boyhood, when the Klan marched openly by the thousands in the streets of Los Angeles.”
    The art historian and curator Darby English told the New York Times that the decision to postpone the show was “cowardly and patronizing, an insult to art and the public alike.” Guston’s paintings were “thoughtfully created in identification with history’s victims,” English said, adding that “[i]t should be part of one’s attitude to see them as opportunities to think, to improve thinking, to sharpen perception, to talk to one another,” and not “to grimly proceed with one’s head in the sand, avoiding difficult conversations because you think the timing is bad.”
    Guston himself called the works self-portraits. “I perceive myself as being behind the hood,” he was quoted in the 2019 publication MoMA Highlights: 375 works From the Museum of Modern Art New York. “I almost tried to imagine that I was living with the Klan. What would it be like to be evil?”
    Philip Guston, Untitled (Two Hooded Figures) (1969). Courtesy of Christie’s Images, Ltd.

    Robert Storr, who this month published a biography of the artist, Philip Guston: A Life Spent Painting, called the museums’ decision “an abject failure of imagination and nerve.”
    “Now that resurgent forces of nativism and bigotry threaten the very fabric of American society is the moment to revisit Guston’s oeuvre,” Storr told Artnet News in an email. “Nevertheless, museological cowardice and malpractice have deprived us of the opportunity to reconsider the vexed social dimensions of art, and of our conflicted reality through the prism of the moral and political subtleties, purposefully provocative ambiguities, and searing satire of Guston’s prescient and profoundly disturbing work as a whole. This is an epic betrayal of art, of the artist and, most of all, of the public to which this institutional cock-up does a disservice at every turn, on every level.”
    Museums have increasingly faced criticism in recent years for exhibiting work that addresses issues of racial violence. The 2017 Whitney Biennial sparked controversy for including Dana Schutz’s Open Casket, a painting of Emmett Till, whose brutal 1955 lynching made headlines when his mother insisted on an open-casket funeral. Detractors accused Schutz, who is white, of capitalizing on Black suffering, and called for the painting’s destruction.
    More recently, the Museum of Contemporary Art Cleveland canceled an exhibition of Afro-Latino artist Shaun Leonardo’s drawings of victims of police brutality due to community objections. The museum’s director, Jill Snyder, apologized and resigned. (The exhibition is now on view at the Massachusetts Museum of Contemporary Art and will travel to the Bronx Museum of the Arts in January.)
    Philip Guston, Passage (1957–58). Courtesy of the Museum of Fine Arts, Houston/©the estate of Philip Guston.

    The upcoming exhibition was to have been Guston’s first US retrospective in 15 years, including some 125 paintings and 70 drawings.
    Websites for the show at its first two venues, the National Gallery and the Tate, have been taken offline since the postponement announcement. Neither museum directly addressed the KKK imagery. The Tate mentioned Guston’s ’70s-era “paintings populated by cartoonish figures,” noting that they were not initially well-received by critics, but “established Guston as one of the most influential painters of the late 20th century.”
    The museums will still publish the catalogue for the exhibition as originally planned, with essays from the four curators: Harry Cooper, Alison de Lima Greene, Mark Godfrey, and Kate Nesin.
    Godfrey, senior curator of international art at the Tate Modern, has spoken out against the postponement on Instagram. “Cancelling or delaying the exhibition is probably motivated by the wish to be sensitive to the imagined reactions of particular viewers, and the fear of protest,” he wrote. “However, it is actually extremely patronizing to viewers, who are assumed not to be able to appreciate the nuance and politics of Guston’s works.”
    The museums’ joint statement says that they “remain committed to Philip Guston and his work,” and that they hope to stage the show at a time when “we think that the powerful message of social and racial justice that is at the center of Philip Guston’s work can be more clearly interpreted.”
    That will involve bringing in “additional perspectives and voices to shape how we present Guston’s work at each venue,” the museum representatives told Artnet News. “This will be a complex and layered process that goes beyond rewriting labels, but takes into consideration the ways in which we communicate the production of this work in its time and the reception by audiences today.”
    Mayer believes that moment is already here. “These paintings meet the moment we are in today,” she said. “The danger is not in looking at Philip Guston’s work, but in looking away.”
    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

  • in

    “Endless Knot” by 2501 in Milan, Italy

    Italian artist Jacopo Ceccarelli aka 2501 recently worked on a mural located in the facade of a building in Marco Polo, district of Milan. “The endless knot has various meanings in the Tibetan tradition, but most of all, it reminds me the inter-twining of wisdom and compassion” 2501 said.

    b-sm = 300×250; sm > none;

    He dedicates this mural in memory of Lama Gangchen Tulku Rimpoche, a 78-year-old guru, founder, and guide of the Albagnano Healing Meditation Centre on Lake Maggiore,who died last April after contracting the coronavirus.

    Embarked in a quest for blank spaces, 2501 experiments with lines, shapes and motion in free compositions that show strictness all the while breaking art codes.
    His works are visually stunning, diving head first into the essence of line art through his use of monochromatic color schemes that emphasize his technique. 2501’s street pieces are elegant and clean making it pop from the usually busy public settings he implements them. The visual impact of his style and the intriguing ambiguity which comes from his use of figureless forms makes 2501’s art one of the most exciting and recognizable in today’s contemporary art scene.
    Scroll down below for more images of 2501’s Endless Knot. More

  • ‘I’m More Choreographer Than Creator’: See How Artist John Akomfrah Merges His Disparate Fascinations Into Stunning Films

    John Akomfrah‘s multichannel video installations are all-encompassing: the color, sound, and especially juxtaposition of historical footage with contemporary imagery make for a truly absorbing experience. And while his works address some of the most urgent present-day issues, Akomfrah also draws inspiration from the art of the past: he traces his interests back to masterpieces by artists like Constable and Turner that he encountered as a teenager visiting Tate Britain, after his family moved from his native Accra, Ghana.
    “Turner’s my guy because there’s an act of will and imagination, which is at the forefront with what I call his ‘cinematic eye,’” the artist says in an interview with Art21. “It’s a painting, but it feels like you’re in the disaster.” The interview is part of the new season of the acclaimed PBS series’s Art in the Twenty-First Century series.
    Akomfrah gestures to the turbulent ocean, a hallmark of Turner’s work, which figured heavily in his 2015 film Vertigo Sea. That work is an episodic meditation on the sublime beauty and horror of the water, incorporating scenes of migrants crossing the expanse in hope of a better life, images of the whaling industry, and readings of Moby Dick along with archival and newly shot footage.
    “I’m more choreographer than creator,” the artist explains in the video, “I became interested in making multi-screen films because it seemed a way of bringing disparate interests together.” For Akomfrah, the addition of archival material introduces another voice, and so another perspective. 

    Still from John Akomfrah’s Vertigo Sea (2015). ©Smoking Dogs Films, courtesy of Lisson Gallery.

    For Art21, Akomfrah details personal experiences and global issues that he’s engaged in his films, including Brexit, race riots, the military coup in Ghana that forced his family to flee for Britain, and a number of other political and social events. All of those historical strands, the artist says, helped to shape his own view.
    “Once you’ve understood that you are a product of things, you can’t shake off realizing that from across your life,” he says.
    Watch the video, which originally appeared as part of Art21’s series Art in the Twenty-First Century, below. The brand new 10th season of the show is available now at Art21.org. 
    [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

  • With His Dizzying New Films, Artist Bruce Nauman Is More Like a Seer Than a Jester of Contemporary Life

    Bruce Nauman has made a career out of unsettling audiences—or at least, shaking up the dailiness of life—with a various-and-sundry practice that has stretched from the absurdist, at-times whimsical performance pieces that first gained him recognition in the 1960s, to distressing sculpture and video works that boldly take torture as their subject matter.  
    This month, Nauman, who at 78 is still very much at it, debuted three new works at Sperone Westwater in an exhibition that marks his 13th solo show at the gallery since his first one, 45 years ago in 1976.
    Two new interactive 3-D video works and one hanging sculpture (Two Leaping Foxes, a return to the animal sculptures Nauman first made in the late 1980s) comprise the show and are given ample space in the gallery (which should be something of a comfort to those still hesitant to visit galleries in person).
    Bruce Nauman, Nature Morte (2020). Courtesy of Sperone Westwater.

    For fans of the provocative artist, the exhibition conjures up comparisons to earlier precedents in his long career, especially for those who still have last year’s MoMA retrospective, “Bruce Nauman: Disappearing Acts,” in mind.
    That’s not to say the works are without innovation, however. The videos, Walking a Line (2019) and Nature Morte (2020), feel strangely and unexpectedly vulnerable. 
    In Walking a Line (2019), Nauman walks with his arms extended out to his sides as he follows a straight line. Nauman’s Walk with Contrapposto from 1968–69 comes to mind—the seminal, and nonsensical, performance art video that showed the young artist following a path around his studio in slow-motion as he comically mimicked the stances of ancient sculptures.
    But the mood of Walking a Line feels more precarious than punchy, as Nauman walks like a tightrope walker trying to maintain his balance. This is inevitably underscored by Nauman’s age—he is no longer a lithe, almost balletic young man. What’s more, the work has a 3-D element that splits the projection (and the figure of Nauman) horizontally, and plays the two segments out of sync, so that the overall effect is discordant and tenuous.
    “There is transparency about his relationship with his own body as he completes what would have been a simple exercise in his youth,” Natasha Westwater told Artnet News. “In the editing, he again divides the body in half, creating asymmetry with each turn. Sometimes his lower body turns around, revolving 180 degrees before the upper half catches up, sometimes completely walking out of the frame.”
    Bruce Nauman, Nature Morte (2020). Courtesy of Sperone Westwater.

    What made Nauman so revolutionary in the 1960s and ‘70s was, of course, this invitation inside his space, inside the studio. In our age of Instagram and hyper-documentation, it can be hard to imagine the impact his gesture had. Already in 2001, with Mapping the Studio (2001), Nauman began to record his studio space at night, picturing it as its own object, full of mice and critters. 
    But in his most recent work, Nature Morte (2020), the artist has gone much further, giving the public free reign to navigate his studio without his presence. Through three iPads, each linked to a projection, visitors can explore the space of his studio and inspect individual objects that Nauman has scanned. 
    “Nauman disappears, his body is absent, and the spectator becomes the participant or performer… Nauman recorded hundreds of images documenting all parts of the studio—notes from previous artworks, books, coffee cups, vinyl records, tools, photographs of horses, the sculpture Two Leaping Foxes, and more, for over a year,” noted Westwater, who said the work “questions the conventions of art and the contradictions and ambiguities which characterize our existence in the world.”
    The final effect, dizzying as it is, is provocative in a new way—it’s eerie, even lonely, especially in this unusual year, with Nauman suddenly appearing more like a seer than a jester of contemporary life. 
    “Bruce Nauman” is on view at Sperone Westwater through November 7, 2020.
    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

  • Justine Hill’s New Show of Sculptural Paintings Is a Timely Homage to the Importance of Touch—See Images Here

    “Justine Hill: Touch”Through October 31 at Denny Dimin Gallery

    What the gallery says: “Justine Hill’s work explores the boundaries of abstract painting with her unique approach to form and mark making. The works in the exhibition are a continuation of what she has styled the ‘Cutouts’—paintings on shaped wood panels wrapped in canvas. Hill began to work with this process five years ago when she was questioning the circumscribed boundary of the single rectangle for a painting. The way Hill chooses to arrange the pieces, how the shapes relate to one another, and the negative spaces within and around them, are all essential to the work.
    The title of the exhibition, ‘Touch,’ refers to the unquantifiable loss we have experienced in our socially distanced, remote lives over the past few months. It is an expression of desire to return to viewing art in person, because without the idea of touch, components such as texture, scale, volume, and color are impossible to understand with accuracy. Hill writes, ‘Touch is about standing in front of something or someone. It is about all that we learn by being in the same place, even when no one is speaking. It is about feeling the touch of the handmade. It is about everything that is lost in translation on a screen.’”
    Why it’s worth a look: The colorful cut-out abstractions in Hill’s work are delightful to view online, and even better to see in person. Hill’s most recent series of works, titled “Replica,” are responses to the art of Marina Adams, whose abstract paintings incorporate geometric shapes and bright colors. Hill’s works evoke homemade crafts and magic markers, though their large-scale sculptural aspects and shaped canvases nod to other art-historical precedents, such as Frank Stella’s “Moby Dick” series. The works make you want to grab some art supplies and go to town.
    What it looks like:

    Installation view, “Justine Hill: Touch” at Denny Dimin Gallery.

    Installation view, “Justine Hill: Touch” at Denny Dimin Gallery.

    Installation view, “Justine Hill: Touch” at Denny Dimin Gallery.

    Installation view, “Justine Hill: Touch” at Denny Dimin Gallery.

    Justine Hill, Kilter (2020). Courtesy of the artist and Denny Dimin Gallery.

    Installation view, “Justine Hill: Touch” at Denny Dimin Gallery.

    Justine Hill, Handwork (2020). Courtesy of the artist and Denny Dimin Gallery.

    Installation view, “Justine Hill: Touch” at Denny Dimin Gallery.

    Justine Hill, Replica 3 (2020). Courtesy of the artist and Denny Dimin Gallery.

    Justine Hill, Replica 2 (2020). Courtesy of the artist and Denny Dimin Gallery.

    Justine Hill, Still Life 1 (2019). Courtesy of the artist and Denny Dimin Gallery.

    Justine Hill, Still Life 3 (2019). Courtesy of the artist and Denny Dimin Gallery.

    Justine Hill, Replica 1 (2020) detail. Courtesy of the artist and Denny Dimin Gallery.

    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

  • in

    “NON PLUS ULTRA” by Gonzalo Borondo in Salamanca, Spain

    Since the beginning of his artistic activity, Borondo has seen glass as an interesting material to explore, a source of original creative possibilities, attracted by the opposites that characterise it: transparency and hardness; fragility and resistance; protection and danger. He is also interested in its relationship with light and the elegance it transmits.

    b-sm = 300×250; sm > none;

    In recent years, Borondo has tackled the subject with a multidisciplinary approach, articulating innovative formal solutions that combine skills from different areas and that have seen the practice of “glass scratching” evolve in relation to the artist’s intentions: to enliven painting and to experiment with silkscreen printing. “Non Plus Ultra” is the result of a visionary perspective on screen printing, where the rules are shifted towards the unusual, where error is enjoyed, the cause before discovery, where the technique goes beyond the limits imposed by the blank sheet. More

  • in

    “There Was A Fault” by Seth Globepainter in Grigny, France

    Seth Globepainter recently finished his last wall entitled “There Was A Fault” for sixth edition of Wall Street Art Festival of the Grand Paris Sud. The mural is located at the heart of La Grande Borne in Grigny, France. “There Was A Fault” represents a child who seems to push the walls so that nature takes back its rights. A fault is then created, cracking the wall and revealing nature and the blue sky.

    b-sm = 300×250; sm > none;

    French artist Julien “Seth” Malland, or Seth Globepainter has gained international fame over the years by developing an urban painting linked to childhood based on the imagination, individual or collective.
    Seth travels the world, working with local artists to create vibrant and colourful portraits of children. Drawing inspiration from the surrounding he is in, he includes cultural elements into his art and turns the children into spokespeople and messengers of his investigations. He puts into play his image of innocence, and places his character in difficult social, political and geographical contexts.
    Scroll down below for more photos of the mural. More

  • Artist Gina Beavers Satirizes Our Insatiable Appetite for Personal Beauty in Her New Show at Marianne Boesky—See Images Here

    As galleries and art institutions around the world begin to reopen, we are spotlighting individual shows—online and IRL—that are worth your attention.

    “Gina Beavers: World War Me”through October 17 at Marianne Boesky Gallery
    What the gallery says: “Beavers spends hours scouring Instagram, YouTube, blogs, and other online sources in search of images that inspire, compel, repulse, and amuse her. In recent years, she has become particularly drawn to make-up tutorials created by both professional and amateur artists. Beavers takes stills from these tutorials and recreates them with incredible realism, enlivening the flattened image with dynamic physicality. To create her intensely tactile works, Beavers builds up acrylic paint so densely on the canvas that she is able to sculpt it with a knife. For larger works, she also uses foam to add to the fullness of the forms.
    “’I am intrigued by the tools of creativity that are proliferating online, particularly when people apply these to their own bodies, from elaborate face and body painting to nail art,’ said Beavers. ‘For the new works in “World War Me,” I began to use these tools on my own body, borrowing techniques from the internet to make certain artists and their work a part of my own physical self. I am interested in the ways existing online is performative, and the tremendous lengths people go to in constructing their online selves. Meme-makers, face-painters, people who make their hair into sculptures, are really a frontier of a new creative world.’”
    Why it’s worth a look: The genesis for this series, which focuses to a great degree on the artist’s own body, was a Sex and the City Meme featuring Carrie Bradshaw asking: “as our country entered World War III, I couldn’t help but wonder… is it time to focus on World War Me?”
    And so Beavers does, using the toxicity of consumerism and the powerful lure of Instagram as a starting point for works that are as repulsive as they are enticing. Like Bradshaw’s performative introspection, a much-satirized tic of the TV series, Beavers is interested in users’ carefully constructed presences.
    The canvases, built up with thick impasto paint, are not so unlike cakey foundation and spidery eyelashes, thick with dried and crusty mascara, just as pillowy soft lips are only achieved through sticky layers, prescriptions, injections, and Facetune.
    What it looks like:

    Gina Beavers, Addiction Lips (2020). Courtesy of the artist and Marianne Boesky Gallery, New York and Aspen. © Gina Beavers. Photo credit: Lance Brewer.

    Installation view, “Gina Beavers: World War Me” at Marianne Boesky Gallery. Photo by Lance Brewer.

    Gina Beavers, The Artist’s Lips with Pollock, Kelly, and Kline (2020). Courtesy of the artist and Marianne Boesky Gallery, New York and Aspen. © Gina Beavers. Photo credit: Lance Brewer.

    Installation view, “Gina Beavers: World War Me” at Marianne Boesky Gallery. Photo by Lance Brewer.

    Gina Beavers, Picasso Underwear (2020). Courtesy of the artist and Marianne Boesky Gallery, New York and Aspen. © Gina Beavers. Photo credit: Lance Brewer.

    Gina Beavers, American Flag Sponge Butt Cake (2020). Courtesy of the artist and Marianne Boesky Gallery, New York and Aspen. © Gina Beavers. Photo credit: Lance Brewer.

    Installation view, “Gina Beavers: World War Me” at Marianne Boesky Gallery. Photo by Lance Brewer.

    Gina Beavers, Nude Self-self-portrait (2020). Courtesy of the artist and Marianne Boesky Gallery, New York and Aspen. © Gina Beavers. Photo credit: Lance Brewer.

    Gina Beavers, I voted (2020). Courtesy of the artist and Marianne Boesky Gallery, New York and Aspen. © Gina Beavers. Photo credit: 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