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    Sadie Barnette Has Made Art From the Files the FBI Kept on Her Father. Now She Has Recreated His Path-Breaking Nightclub

    The gallery for Sadie Barnette’s current exhibition at the Kitchen is practically pitch black—except for a horseshoe bar ringed with stools. Barnette’s re-creation of the New Eagle Creek Saloon—a gay bar and nightclub, the first Black-owned one in San Francisco, which her father, Rodney Barnette, ran from 1990 to 1993—sits in the middle of the room, lit up in neon pink and purple. 
    When I visited the celebrated art institution in New York’s Chelsea neighborhood, where Barnette’s installation will be on view through March 6, a family with two young children walked in behind me. They let out a collective gasp. The kids ran up to the installation, instantly amused by seeing their reflections in the mirrored bar. They then stood in front of the installation, underneath the neon “Eagle Creek” sign and near the glittered boom box they’d just been gawking at, and signaled for their parents to take a picture. After that, they all left.
    Installation view, Sadie Barnette, “The New Eagle Creek Saloon,” at the Kitchen, New York. Photo: Adam Reich.
    And this is what the installation will be for a lot of people. It’s dramatic. It’s fun. It sparkles. On the days when madison moore, assistant professor of queer studies at Virginia Commonwealth University and the Kitchen’s first nightlife and club culture resident, is hosting DJ events in the gallery, it’ll be a raucous dance party, invoking the spirit of queer nightlife.
    As Barnette sees it, expressions of pleasure and joy are legitimate responses to the work—the bar, in its day, generated quite a bit of both for its patrons. Digging a little deeper into “New Eagle Creek,” though, there is far more to the installation than first meets the eye—which is why, in the last two years, it has traveled to venues including the Lab in San Francisco and the Institute of Contemporary Art in Los Angeles. This presentation at the Kitchen, and in collaboration with the Studio Museum in Harlem, is its first on the East Coast.
    Installation view, Sadie Barnette, “The New Eagle Creek Saloon,” at the Kitchen, New York. Photo: Adam Reich.
    Man, Father, and Muse
    Sadie, now 37, was seven years old when her dad first took her to the New Eagle Creek Saloon in the Haight. At the time, the bar was sponsoring a float for the 1992 San Francisco Pride Parade. 
    Rodney opened the bar “because of the racism that he and his multiracial group of gay friends experienced at white gay bars in San Francisco,” Barnette explains. “So it really was out of necessity—for the dignity of being cute and Black and gay in San Francisco in the 1990s that he set up this bar. And it really ends up being kind of a community center, a safe haven.”
    As Barnette remembers it, the theme for the float was “Black people through the ages.” She was dressed up as a Black Victorian. The event conjures up memories of being surrounded by an exuberant group of Black pharaohs and Black robots and Black astronauts. It was like being a part of the Black past, present, and future, all at once. From that moment on, the bar lived on in her imagination as a “larger than life; a mythical, fantastical space,” she recalls. “So it didn’t make sense to make my installation look like the original bar. It made sense to make it look like me dreaming in my aesthetic about the bar.”
    The “New Eagle Creek Saloon” was hardly the first time Barnette has pulled from her family’s history for her work. Back in high school, she says she took up photography as “a way of seeing the world or a way of engaging with the world as a witness”; realizing how political even her own personal history was, she has nurtured a documentary impulse ever since. “I was entranced by the stories and the performing of stories and the gatherings and the history and seeing so much of American history contained just within the living room,” she says. 
    In the last five years or so, the Oakland-based artist has centered her practice on her father’s past. In 2011, when Barnette was working on her MFA at the University of California, San Diego, her father suggested that they submit a Freedom of Information Act (FOIA) request to obtain the surveillance file the FBI had once compiled on him. In the 1960s and ‘70s, Rodney was a Black Panther. He founded the Compton chapter of the organization in 1968; stood guard for Angela Davis as she awaited trial for murder, kidnapping, and conspiracy in 1970; and was for years deeply involved in Black revolutionary activism. 
    Sadie Barnette, Family Tree (2021). Courtesy of the artist and Jessica Silverman, San Francisco. Photo: John Wilson White.
    “I figured the [FOIA documents] would make [their] way to being a part of my work, since my work has always been centered around my family,” Barnette says. 
    Her father’s past, in particular, provides direct links to significant movements in Black history still left largely untold, such as the extent to which the Black Panthers influenced American politics and how Black people were active participants in the rise of LGBTQ culture of the late 1980s and early ’90s. 
    Sadie Barnette, Untitled (Dad, 1966 and 1968). Courtesy of the artist and Jessica Silverman, San Francisco.
    When the FBI documents—500 pages in total, covering seemingly mundane but also intensely private details of her father’s life—arrived four or five years later, Barnette started integrating them into her practice; first, as material in her first solo show in San Francisco, at Jenkins Johnson Gallery in 2016—which ran concurrently with her installation of similar work in a group exhibition at the Oakland Museum of California—and then within countless other shows over the years. In her approach, she doesn’t just display the documents as is. She manipulates them; she marks them up with spray paint, decorates them, tarnishes them—but never lets them escape her personal touch. By doing this, Barnette folds her voice into the construction of her dad’s legacy. She reclaims the parts of the documents that make no sense to her. Because she’s never seen her father as a threat. He’s always just been her dad.
    “The project that she did with the FOIA act that she submitted for her father,’” says Legacy Russell, executive director and chief curator at the Kitchen, “that body of work has since become really instrumental and a turning point across her process.”
    Installation view of “Sadie Barnette: Legacy and Legend” at the Benton Museum of Art at Pomona College, July 22–December 18, 2021. This exhibition was co-organized with Pitzer College Art Galleries. Photo: Fredrik Nilsen Studio.
    And in recent years, her projects have become even larger and more ambitious in scale—while still directly tied to her father’s life. 
    “I knew my dad had this amazing history with his bar. But the story was almost lost to history,” Barnette notes. So why not, she thought, also focus on this other profound period in Rodney’s life? Lately, though, she’s also “really looking to and is excited about fusing those narratives together,” says her dealer Jessica Silverman, “so that they don’t become these two separate issues. They became part of a whole, because that is who he is.” (The artist is also represented by Charlie James Gallery in Los Angeles.)
    The two narratives might not be so separate anyway. As Barnette puts it, Rodney’s engagement with many different communities—especially marginalized ones—is “just a part of the way that my father moves through the world,” she says, “whether it’s fighting for Angela Davis’s freedom or hosting a bar, I think it’s all about protecting the people.” Barnette’s forthcoming installation at Los Angeles International Airport, scheduled to be unveiled in 2024, will pay homage to efforts to shelter Davis while she was sought by the FBI.
    “Here’s one thing that my father said to me that I really appreciated,” Barnette says. “He’s like: when you read the history books, you don’t necessarily need to see your name there, but you just want to know that you were there and participated.”
    Installation view of “Sadie Barnette: Legacy and Legend” at Pitzer College Art Galleries (Lenzner Family Art Gallery) at Pitzer College, July 22–December 18, 2021. This exhibition was co-organized with the Benton Museum of Art at Pomona College. Photo: Fredrik Nilsen Studio.
    Beyond the Barnette Orbit 
    While it suits her father just fine knowing that he was there and made a difference, Barnette is striving for a little bit more.
    “In Sadie’s case, she’s really drawn to thinking about the way in which those who lived these experiences can be the ones that tell their own story,” says Russell. 
    In many ways, her work is breathing life into a history on life support. As far as official records of the New Eagle Creek Saloon, Barnette’s work is “not really reintroducing [the archive],” Silverman notes, “because there really never has been one.” 
    “There isn’t a National Archives for queer nightlife,” moore says. “Obviously, people have papers that might be related to queer nightlife—such as Langston Hughes, for example, whose papers are at the library and you can find some stuff in there about nightlife—but you have to sort of read between the tea leaves, if you will.”
    There has been a growing contingent of artists of late, ranging from Karon Davis to Garrett Bradley, who are intent on filling in gaps within the annals of Black history. And in reevaluating the idea of what that archive can be, “the documentation of [Barnette’s] project over time is in and of itself the archive,” Russell says, becoming much more than simply “the preservation and resurrection of Rodney’s legacy, and the memory of the space that he founded.”
    Installation view of “Sadie Barnette: Legacy and Legend” at Pitzer College Art Galleries (Lenzner Family Art Gallery), July 22 to December 18, 2021. This exhibition is co-organized with the Benton Museum of Art at Pomona College. Photography courtesy of Fredrik Nilsen Studio.
    Such an archive can also be meaningfully integrated in other arenas. In bringing this installation to the Kitchen, Russell hopes to explore “a really important history that creates a through line between different parts of New York City history,” she continues, “[because] this project steps right into those intersections. It’s a project about city change and gentrification. It’s a project about the whitewashing of Black space. It’s a project about the kind of migration and journeying of Black people and Black economies.”
    When Barnette takes stock of her own life, as she’s done with her father’s for her work, she realizes that she is, and always has been, a storyteller. 
    “The title of the show that was just at Jessica Silverman was ‘Inheritance,’” Barnette says, “and I really do think of history and stories as a type of inheritance. And it’s a gift. It’s a treasure. It’s also a responsibility.”
    “Sadie Barnette: The New Eagle Creek Saloon” is on view at the Kitchen, 512 West 19th Street, New York, through March 6.
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    The Whitney Museum Will Stage a Landmark Show of Puerto Rican Art Made in the Five Years Since Hurricane Maria

    The Whitney Museum of American Art will mark the five-year anniversary of Hurricane Maria with the first major exhibition of Puerto Rican art to be organized at a U.S. museum in five decades.
    The exhibition, titled “No existe un mundo poshuracán: Puerto Rican Art in the wake of Hurricane Maria,” will bring together an intergenerational group of more than 15 artists based in Puerto Rico and across the diaspora, more than half of which identify as women, trans, and nonbinary. Their contributions, all created since the storm hit in September 20, 2017, “seek to analyze the cracks left by the storm in the very structure of Puerto Rico’s politics, culture, and society,” according to an announcement from the museum.
    Marcela Guerrero, the Whitney’s curator who organized the show along with current and former museum fellows Angelica Arbelaez and Sofía Silva, said in an email to Artnet News that the exhibition would not be another celebration of a community’s resilience in the face of tragedy. 
    “‘Resilience’ is a word that has been used uncritically in the context of post-Maria,” the curator said. “As scholar Marisol Lebrón has said, resilience abdicates the state of responsibility. Efforts to build a Puerto Rico beyond the constraints imposed by its colonial design have always existed and this, perhaps, is one of its most acute and visible moments.”
    Gamaliel Rodríguez, Collapsed Soul (2020-21). Courtesy of the artist and Nathalie Karg Gallery NYC. © 2021 Gamaliel Rodríguez. Photo: Gamaliel Rodríguez.
    The exhibition and its catalogue, Guerrero went on, “are examples of this coalescing of voices of artists and thinkers who share an interest in exposing this dire moment in Puerto Rican history, yet offering an alternative in how to see things and how to resist simplistic understandings of what is a very complex political and social reality.”
    Studies have estimated that between 3,000 and 4,645 Puerto Ricans died as a result of Hurricane Maria in 2017—an appalling figure that experts say has as much to do with the severity of the Category 5 storm as it does with the lack of state and federal resources granted to the island territory both before and after the catastrophe. (To many, the image of former President Trump throwing paper towels to Puerto Ricans epitomized the negligence.)
    Sofía Gallisá Muriente, Celaje (2020). Courtesy of the artist. © 2020 Sofía Gallisá Muriente.
    The exhibition checklist is still being tweaked, Guerrero said, but the show will include paintings, prints, performances, and other artworks. And it’s not just the hurricane that it’ll address. Also on the table are other events that have altered the island territory in the years since, including the 2019 ousting of governor Ricardo Rosselló and the pandemic. 
    “Hurricane Maria left an indelible mark on the history of Puerto Rico,” Guerrero said. “With the hindsight of five years since that fateful event, we know that Maria’s effects cannot be reduced to the storm itself but rather unfold across the events that preceded and followed September 20. The arts community understands the nuances of this reality, and through their work can at once denounce the policies of disinvestment in the lives of Puerto Ricans while also communicating a message of resistance.” 
    “No existe un mundo poshuracán: Puerto Rican Art in the wake of Hurricane Maria” is set to take place November 23, 2022–April 23, 2023 at the Whitney Museum of American Art in New York.
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    In Pictures: See How LACMA’s New Interscope Records Show Pairs Artists With the Musicians That Inspire Them, from Lana Del Rey to Dr. Dre

    For just a few short weeks, the Los Angeles County Museum of Art (LACMA) is hosting “Artists Inspired By Music: Interscope Reimagined”, which pairs paintings by Ed Ruscha, Amoako Boafo, Kehinde Wiley, and Anna Weyant with songs or albums from Interscope Records. The exhibition came about as a means to celebrate the music label’s 30th anniversary, and Dr Dre, Billie Eilish, Kendrick Lamar, Nine Inch Nails, and Lady Gaga are among the musicians from which the participating artists drew their inspiration.
    The show closes on February 13, so in case you can’t go see the works yourself, take a look at (most of) the work on view here.

    Adam Pendleton, Untitled (Dr. Dre, The Chronic) (2021), reimagining the Dr. Dre album The Chronic (1992), silkscreen ink on canvas. Courtesy of the artist and David Kordansky Gallery, Los Angeles.
    Amoako Boafo, 6Lack – Black Woolen Hat (2021), reimagining the album FREE 6LACK (2016), oil on canvas. Courtesy of the artist and Roberts Projects, Los Angeles, California.
    Anna Park, Intermission (2021), reimagining the Billie Eilish album When We All Fall Asleep, Where Do We Go? (2019), charcoal on paper mounted on panel. Private Collection.
    Anna Weyant, Dessert (2021), reimagining the Gwen Stefani album The Sweet Escape (2006), oil on canvas, Courtesy of the artist and Gagosian
    Burnt Toast, Seeing Sounds (2021), reimagining the N*E*R*D album Seeing Sounds (2008), digital file. Courtesy of the artist.
    Cecily Brown, If Teardrops Could Be Bottled (2021), reimagining the Billie Eilish EP don’t smile at me (2017), oil on linen. Courtesy of the artist.
    Chloe Wise, The River’s All Wet (2021), reimagining the Yeah Yeah Yeahs album It’s Blitz! (2009), oil on linen. Courtesy of the artist and Almine Rech.
    Damien Hirst, Addict (2021), reimagining the Eminem album The Slim Shady LP (1999), mixed media. Private Collection.
    Derrick Adams, The Breakthrough (2021), reimagining the Mary J. Blige album The Breakthrough (2005), acrylic on wood panel. Courtesy of the artist.
    Ed Ruscha, All Eyez on Me (2021), reimagining the 2Pac album All Eyez on Me (1996), acrylic on linen. Private Collection.
    Emily Mae Smith, Broken (2021), reimagining the Nine Inch Nails EP Broken (1992), oil on linen. Courtesy of the artist and Petzel Gallery, New York.
    Ferrari Sheppard, Blackstreet Harmony (2021), reimagining the song “No Diggity” (featuring Dr Dre and Queen Pen) from the Blackstreet album Another Level (1996), acrylic, charcoal and 24k gold on canvas. Ferrari Sheppard Studio.
    Genesis Tramaine, Black Woman Saint Cleans Jesus (2021), reimagining the Summer Walker album Over It (2019), acrylic, oil paint, Lawry’s Seasoning Salt, the Holy Spirit. Courtesy of the Artist and Almine Rech.
    Henni Alftan, Untitled (2021), reimagining the Olivia Rodrigo album SOUR (2021), oil on canvas. Courtesy of the artist and Karma, New York.
    Henry Taylor, Untitled (2021), reimagining the song “DNA” from the Kendrick Lamar album DAMN (2017), acrylic on canvas. Private Collection.
    Hilary Pecis, Untitled (2021), reimagining the Selena Gomez album Rare (2020), acrylic on canvas. Private Collection.
    Issy Wood, Gwen with All the Obstacles (2021), reimagining the song “Cool” from the Gwen Stefani album Love. Angel. Music. Baby. (2004), oil on linen. Lent by the artist and Carlos/Ishikawa, London.
    Jenna Gribbon, Lana Watched (2021), reimagining the Lana Del Rey album Born to Die (2012), oil on linen. Private Collection.
    Jennifer Guidi, Seeking Hearts (Black Sand MT, Pink Sand, Pink CS, Pink Ground) (2021), reimagining the BLACKPINK album The Album (2020), sand, acrylic and oil on linen. Private Collection.
    John Currin, Newspaper Couple (2016), reimagining the song “Beautiful Day” from the U2 album All That You Can’t Leave Behind (2000), oil on canvas. Gagosian, Courtesy of the artist.
    Jordy Kerwick, Bloody Valentine (2021), reimagining the song “Bloody Valentine” from the Machine Gun Kelly album Tickets to My Downfall (2020), acrylic on canvas. Private Collection, courtesy of Vito Schnabel Gallery.
    Julie Curtiss, Venus (2021), reimagining the song “Just a Girl” from the No Doubt album Tragic Kingdom (1995), acrylic and oil on canvas. Courtesy of the artist and Anton Kern Gallery, New York.
    KAWS, Better Days Ahead (2021), reimagining the Snoop Dogg album Doggystyle (1993), acrylic on canvas. Private Collection.
    Kehinde Wiley, The Watcher (2021), reimagining the Dr. Dre album 2001 (1999), oil on canvas. Private Collection.
    Lauren Halsey, Untitled (2021), reimagining the Kendrick Lamar album To Pimp a Butterfly (2015), gypsum on wood. Courtesy of the artist and David Kordansky Gallery, Los Angeles.
    Loie Hollowell, Mandalora Squeeze (2019), reimagining the Lady Gaga album The Fame Monster (2009), oil paint, acrylic medium and case resin on linen over panel. Private Collection.
    Lucy Bull, 10:00 (2021), reimagining the song “Spiderwebs” from the No Doubt album Tragic Kingdom (1995), oil on linen. Private Collection.
    Marc Quinn, We Share Our Chemistry with the Stars (MGK200) (2021), reimagining the Machine Gun Kelly album Tickets to My Downfall (2020), oil on canvas. Marc Quinn Studio.
    Matthew Wong, The Outside World (2018), reimagining the Lana Del Rey EP Paradise (2012), gouache on paper. Matt Wong Painter Ltd.
    Nicolas Party, Portrait with a Parrot (2021), reimagining the Lady Gaga album Joanne (2016), pastel on cardboard. Private Collection, courtesy of Karma, New York.
    Nina Chanel Abney, 2 PM (2021), reimagining the 2Pac album The Don Killuminati: The 7 Day Theory (1996), collage on panel. Pace Prints and courtesy of the artist.
    OSGEMEOS, The End (2021), reimagining the Black Eyed Peas album The E.N.D. (2009), mixed media on MDF. Courtesy of OSGEMEOS.
    Rashid Johnson, Good Kid (2021), reimagining the Kendrick Lamar album good kid, m.A.A.d city (2012), ceramic tile, mirror, red oak, oil stick, spray enamel. Courtesy of the artist and David Kordansky Gallery, Los Angeles.
    Raymond Pettibon, No title (Lake Placid) (2019), reimagining the Lana Del Rey album Norman Fucking Rockwell! (2019), ink on paper. Courtesy the artist and David Zwirner.
    Reggie Burrows Hodges, Swimming in Compton: Look Ma (December Day) (2021), reimagining the song “Swimming Pools (Drank)” from the Kendrick Lamar album good kid, m.A.A.d city (2012), acrylic and pastel on canvas. Courtesy of the artist and Karma, New York.
    Richard Prince, Untitled (2021), reimagining the Nine Inch Nails album The Downward Spiral (1994), acrylic and ink jet on canvas. Courtesy of Richard Prince.
    Sayre Gomez, Commemorative Merchandising (2021), reimagining the 50 Cent album Get Rich Or Die Tryin’ (2003), acrylic on canvas. Courtesy of François Ghebaly Gallery.
    Shepard Fairey, Yeah Yeah Yeahs (2021), reimagining the Yeah Yeah Yeahs album Fever to Tell (2003), stencil impression and mixed media collage on album covers. Courtesy of Obey Giant Art Inc.
    Stanley Whitney, Roma 32 (2021), reimagining the song “King Kunta” from the Kendrick Lamar album To Pimp a Butterfly (2015), oil on linen. Courtesy of Lisson Gallery.
    Takashi Murakami, Goodbye & Good Riddance (2021), reimagining the Juice WRLD album Goodbye & Good Riddance (2018), acrylic on canvas mounted on wood frame. Courtesy of Kaikai Kiki Co Limited.
    Titus Kaphar, Seeing Through Time (2021), reimagining the Eve album Scorpion (2001), oil on panel. Private Collection.
    Toyin Ojih Odutola, Damn (2021), reimagining the Kendrick Lamar album DAMN. (2017), graphite on black board; graphite on Duralar. Private Collection.
    Umar Rashid, The Dar al harb according to Tupac. Or, Shakur vs the other world. Earth like, violent, and prone to frequent periods of injustice. Alas, if one seeks it, one can find beauty in the hideous. (Me against the world) (2021), reimagining the 2Pac album Me Against the World (1995), acrylic and spray paint on canvas. Courtesy of Half Gallery and Blum and Poe.
    Will Boone, HELMET (2021), reimagining the Helmet album Meantime (1992), acrylic on canvas. Courtesy of the artist and David Kordansky Gallery, Los Angeles.

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    Dive Into the Confusing and Manipulative World of Deepfakes Through This Chilling Show at the Museum of the Moving Image

    “Can you spot a Deepfake?” That is the question that first greets visitors to the website for In Event of Moon Disaster, an Emmy Award-winning documentary that uses deepfake technology to present an alternate history of the 1969 Apollo 11 mission to land on the moon.
    After viewers answer either “yes” or “no,”—if you click yes, the response chides: “Okay Hot Shot, Let’s Go”—they watch a short film and then are asked a series of questions to discern what in the video is real and what is not. The results are surprising, to say the least.
    
    That’s because the video depicts US President Richard Nixon informing the public that the Apollo 11 astronauts did not survive their mission. The speech was written for Nixon by William Safire in case such an unfortunate scenario occurred. Since it didn’t, the speech was never delivered.
    At the Museum of the Moving Image in Astoria, Queens, the film, presented on an older model television set in a period-appropriate living room, serves as the centerpiece of a fascinating, timely, and unsettling exhibition “Deepfake: Unstable Evidence on Screen.” The show explores the phenomenon of “deepfake” videos, which use advanced artificial intelligence and machine learning to create deceptive content, and how they are used to manipulate audiences and perpetuate misinformation or propaganda.
    Installation view of In Event of Moon Disaster at the Museum of the Moving Image. Photo by Thanassi Karageorgiou / Museum of the Moving Image.
    The moon disaster film, which was co-directed by Francesca Panetta and Halsey Burgund and produced by the MIT Center for Advanced Virtuality, is a perfect jumping-off point to explore the potential harms and benefits of deepfake technology.
    By presenting “an alternative version” of landmark historical events, the installation demonstrates that the representation of both the past and present is subject to powerfully effective technical manipulation, which can challenge our belief in what is real, according to a statement about the show.
    Excerpts from the documentary To Make a Deepfake (2020), produced by Scientific American, are also on view, as well as a wide range of deepfake videos distributed online.
    Installation view of How do you spot a deepfake? Mirror Room. Photo by Thanassi Karageorgiou / Museum of the Moving Image.
    The show also offers examples of contested depictions of actual events from throughout the history of the moving image, ranging from a Spanish-American War reenactment dating to 1899 and credit to Thomas Edison, to the 1963 Zapruder footage of the JFK assassination.
    Keep an eye on the related event series “Questionable Evidence: Deepfakes and Suspect Footage in Film,” which includes screenings and other public programs that explore synthetic media from a variety of perspectives.
    The exhibition was organized by Barbara Miller, the museum’s deputy director for curatorial affairs, and Joshua Glick, assistant professor of English, film, and media studies at Hendrix College and a fellow at the Open Documentary Lab at MIT.
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    What Can a Family of Simulated Orcs Teach Us About the Mark Zuckerberg’s Metaverse? This Absurd New Exhibition Shows Us

    “The feeling of presence: this is the defining quality of the metaverse.” 
    So begins an audio composition in Theo Triantafyllidis’s new exhibition “The Metaverse and How We’ll Build it Together” at Meredith Rosen Gallery. That paradoxical line as well as others in the recording, which blasts from inside ceramic pots installed on old Amazon boxes, were culled from the video Facebook released upon rebranding itself to Meta, an eerie piece of technocratic propaganda that was lampooned to death on social media last fall.
    Like many, Triantafyllidis—an artist who builds virtual worlds to interrogate our lived-in, physical one—found the video unsettling. 
    “There is this very bizarre conflict between reality and fiction—between this totally utopian, almost completely tone-deaf, representation of our own lives that Mark Zuckerberg seems to have in his mind versus the banal reality of our online experience,” the artist said over video chat recently, Zooming in from Athens, Greece, where he was born and raised. (He’s primarily based in LA.)
    An installation view of Theo Triantafyllidis’s exhibition “The Metaverse and How We’ll Get There Together,” 2022 at Meredith Rosen Gallery, New York. Photo: Adam Reich.
    “Banal” is a funny word for the artist to use, given the way he illustrates that disjunction between fiction and reality in the second half of the exhibition. Two live simulations—that is, video games controlled by AI rather than human button-pressing—play out on a pair of screens.
    The first is populated by a family of tech-obsessed orks. Operating by a code similar to that which drives The Sims, the creatures mindlessly perform a series of repetitive tasks in their virtual home as various catastrophes slowly destroy the world around them.
    One ork sprawls before the TV, for instance, while another texts atop a toilet or surfs the web. A tortoise with a camera strapped to its back rides a Roomba, or at least tries to, as his weight keeps the robotic vacuum in place—a clever metaphor, perhaps, for how technology both speeds up our lives and keeps them in place. A fire in the kitchen blazes the whole time.  
    A still from Theo Triantafyllidis’s Ork Haus (2022). Courtesy of the artist.
    The orks look more like Shrek than those of the Lord of the Rings trilogy, but that’s not to say they’re all cute and cuddly. Triantafyllidis’s creatures are crude and vulgar; that’s why he chose them as his avatars. Within gaming communities, the artist explained, there’s a debate about orks, with some saying they’ve been villainized in popular culture through the coded racial attributes we’ve chosen to assign to them. For Triantafyllidis, the idea relates to algorithmic radicalization, or the theory that the algorithms driving social media platforms inherently push people to extremist views.  
    Algorithmic Radicalization is also the name of the second simulation in the show. Whereas the first plays out a domestic simulation, the second is all-out war. Humans and monsters alike fight, die, decompose, and respawn in an endless, self-perpetuating loop of violence on a blank battlefield.  

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    “The more you look at the work the more you realize how stuck these characters are in the simulation,” Triantafyllidis said. 
    The game-like war scene may look like it exists in a different world than the Zuckerberg-themed sound installation found in the room opposite, but for the artist, there’s a line to be drawn between the cycle metaphorized in the simulation and Facebook/Meta’s technocratic vision.  
    “I think there’s a direct link between the radicalization pipeline and this utopian aura that this new video tried to present, offering up this new dream to look for during the hellscape situation that we’re in right now,” Triantafyllidis concluded.   
    “Theo Triantafyllidis: The Metaverse and How We’ll Build it Together” is on view now through February 26, 2022 at Meredith Rosen Gallery in New York.
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    In Pictures: The Most Significant Show of Van Gogh’s Self-Portraits in a Quarter-Century Reveals His Evolving Psychic State

    A newly opened exhibition at the Courtauld Gallery in London looks to offer insights into Vincent van Gogh’s ever-changing and volatile psyche.
    “Van Gogh: Self-Portraits,” curated by Karen Serres, brings together 16 works by the Dutch master from 1886 to 1889, around half of the 35 self-portraits and the two drawings that survive from the era.
    Featuring works from the Courtauld’s own collection, as well as loans from esteemed institutions worldwide, the show is the first in 25 years to assemble so many of his self-portraits, the gallery said.
    “People say that it’s difficult to know oneself… but it’s not easy to paint oneself either,” the artist wrote in September 1889 in a letter to his brother Theo.
    Courtauld staff member Aaron Stennett (l) and curator Karen Serres put the finishing touches to the installation as two of Vincent Van Gogh’s self-portraits. Courtesy of The Courtauld Gallery.
    The paintings can be viewed as representations of the artist’s evolving psychological and mental state, from Self-Portrait with a Dark Felt Hat (1886-1887), created during a spell in Paris, when he experienced a breakthrough in his artistic style, to the somber depictions he made of himself in the following years.
    Two paintings created in 1889, shortly before his death in 1890, are among the highlights of the exhibition, and are reunited for the first time in more than 130 years since they left the Saint-Paul-de-Mausole asylum in Saint-Rémy-de-Provence in the south of France, where the artist was living at the time.
    The two self-portraits were painted in late August and early September 1889, just about a week apart, but they were vastly different.
    “The first was painted as he was still in the midst of the severe mental health crisis that had struck him in mid-July, while the second was created as he was recovering,” the gallery said.
    Sadly, Van Gogh did not survive much longer. “If I could have worked without this accursed disease, what things I might have done,” the artist wrote in one of last letters.
    The exhibition runs until May 8. See more images from the show below.
    Vincent van Gogh, Self-Portrait (September 1889).
    Vincent van Gogh, Self-Portrait with Bandaged Ear (January 1889).
    Vincent van Gogh, Self-Portrait With Straw Hat (August – September 1887).
    Vincent van Gogh, Self-Portrait (c. 1887).
    Vincent van Gogh, Self-Portrait as a Painter (December–February 1888).
    Vincent van Gogh, Self-Portrait with Grey Felt Hat (September – October 1887).
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    See Ancient, Stunningly Well-Preserved Frescoes From Pompeii, Now on View at New York University

    Right now, in the center of Manhattan, anyone can enter a veritable portal to the ancient world. Thirty-five frescoes transported from the National Archaeological Museum of Naples have arrived at New York University’s Institute for the Study of the Ancient World to appear in the exhibition “Pompeii in Color: The Life of Roman Painting.”
    Pompeii lives on in our collective imagination because of its tragic history. When Mount Vesuvius erupted in A.D. 79, the entire city and surrounding areas were smothered by piles of volcanic ash and pumice, wiping out the inhabitants instantly. Underneath the wreckage however, the ancient city was astonishingly well preserved and serves as a kind of time capsule of moments leading up to the explosion.
    Archaeologists have been fascinated with the ancient city, and excavations have helped shed light on daily life in Pompeii. In one villa, the so-called House of the Painters at Work, researchers found that the home was in the midst of renovations when Vesuvius erupted. Inside the house, a half-finished fresco was found, surrounded by bowls of pigments and plaster, tools, and scaffolding, leading to a greater understanding of the painting technique and appreciation for the many frescoes that were preserved.
    Other frescoes on view depict mythological scenes, landscapes, and architectural renderings, portraits, and imaginative scenes of daily activities. “The remarkably well-preserved frescoes from lost villas invite us to see beyond the ashes of the tragic city,” the organizers of the show aid, “and instead experience the vibrant world of the ancient Roman home as the Pompeians themselves knew it.”
    Below, see images of the frescoes on view.
    The Institute for the Study of the Ancient World at NYU is currently closed due to health restrictions, but an online portal is available to the public until the galleries reopen.
    Hercules and Omphale (1st century CE), Herculaneum. Image © Photographic Archive, National Archaeological Museum of Naples.
    Mask amid bunches of grapes and vines (1st century CE). House of V. Popidius or House of Mosaic Doves, triclinium 13, east wall, central section, Pompeii. Image © Photographic Archive, National Archaeological Museum of Naples.
    Still-life fragments representing vase, scrolls, landscape, and fruit (1st century CE), Herculaneum. Image © Photographic Archive, National Archaeological Museum of Naples.
    Small cup with blue pigment (1st century CE), Pompeii. Image © Photographic Archive, National Archaeological Museum of Naples.
    Painter at work (1st century CE), House of the Surgeon, Pompeii. Image © Photographic Archive, National Archaeological Museum of Naples.
    Polyphemus and Galatea ( 1st century BCE), Villa at the Royal Stables on Portici, Pompeii. Image © Photographic Archive, National Archaeological Museum of Naples.
    Hercules and Omphale (1st century CE), House of Marcus Lucretius, triclinium 16, east wall, central section, Pompeii. Image © Photographic Archive, National Archaeological Museum of Naples.
    Achilles on the Island of Skyros (1st century CE), House of Achilles or House of the Skeleton or House of Stronnius, cubiculum u, north wall, central section, Pompeii. Image © Photographic Archive, National Archaeological Museum of Naples.
    Architectural landscape (1st century CE), House of the Peristyle, Pompeii. Image © Photographic Archive, National Archaeological Museum of Naples.
    Banquet scene with inscribed words (1st century CE), East wall, central section, House of the Triclinium, Pompeii. Image © Photographic Archive, National Archaeological Museum of Naples.
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    A Cube Made From $11.7 Million Worth of Gold Is Sitting in Central Park—and Has Its Own Security Detail

    This morning, joggers in New York’s Central Park may have come across a curious, rather illustrious sight. A cube composed of 186 kilograms of pure 24-karat gold, conceived by the German artist Niclas Castello who has billed it as a conceptual “socle du monde” (base of the world) sculpture for our time, was wheeled out to the Naumburg Bandshell this morning at around 5 a.m. 
    Although the work is not for sale, according to the artist’s team, based on the current price of gold at $1,788 per ounce, its material worth is around $11.7 million. Flanked by a heavy security detail, the 410-pound work is set to be displayed in the park until the day’s end.
    In a message sent this morning to Artnet News, Castello called the work “a conceptual work of art in all its facets.” He said the idea was to “create something that is beyond our world—that is intangible.” 
    And so, as with all things in 2022, an accompanying cryptocurrency is being launched alongside the physical artwork. The Castello Coin, traded as $CAST, is available for purchase online at an initial price of €0.39 ($0.44) each, with an accompanying NFT auction scheduled for 21 February. 

    The Castello Cube being cast in a foundry in Switzerland.
    “The cube can be seen as a sort of communiqué between an emerging 21st-century cultural ecosystem based on crypto and the ancient world where gold reigned supreme,” says the Viennese gallerist Lisa Kandlhofer, who was in New York for the artwork’s launch.
    According to Castello’s team, golden cube was cast at a foundry in Aarau, Switzerland, requiring a special handmade kiln in order to withstand both the sheer size and volume of gold, as well as the extreme temperatures needed to melt it, reaching up to 1100 degrees Celsius. The cube measures over a foot and a half on all sides and has a wall thickness of about a quarter inch. 
    Later tonight, the sculpture will make its way to a private dinner on Wall Street, where numerous celebrities are said to be attending. 
    Niclas Castello with his piece The Castello Cube in Central Park, New York. Photo by Sandra Mika.
    Born in 1978 in East Germany, Castello currently lives between New York and Switzerland, and is known largely for his sculptures and paintings partly inspired by artists like Jean-Michel Basquiat and Andy Warhol. Castello’s previous works lean heavily on imagery from pop and consumer culture. 
    His cube can, in some respects, be compared to Damien Hirst’s infamous diamond encrusted skull, a memento mori that is also a commentary on art’s endless entanglement in money and capital, or Piero Manzoni’s tongue-in-cheek provocation Artist’s Shit (1961), a tin can containing the artist’s feces which he sold for its weight in gold. 
    But after its one-day exhibition, where will The Castello CUBE go next? The artist’s team has so far remained tight-lipped about that. One thing is certain, however: Central Park just got a lot more bling. 
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