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    Prankster Adam Himebach Turns the Installation of His Solo Show in Seoul Into Performance

    The painter Adam Himebauch, increasingly known for his performance art, hung some of the work in his own solo show in South Korea, a performative statement pushing back against the haters that tell him to “just paint, dude.”
    Himebauch, the Tribeca-based artist formerly known as Hanksy, debuted his show “Here Comes the Twister” at the Gana Art Nineone gallery in Seoul on June 20. The show contains paintings that collectively illustrate the chronological evolution of the tornado.
    But during the opening reception, the walls of the gallery remained empty—until Himebauch arrived to put up six of the works himself, stapling the loose-canvas paintings directly onto the walls. In a video shared with Artnet News, Himebauch is seen stretching and doing some light exercise and a little dance to limber up for the install.
    Adam Himebauch hanging up his own paintings as a performative statement. Photo courtesy of Gana Art.
    When he’s finally ready to begin hanging the works, he grabs a standard stepladder and attempts to ready his staple gun but appears to have legitimate problems with loading it and can be seen nervously smiling until it clicks into place. He begins to hang the works halfway through the 15-minute performance.
    After stapling the top of each work to the wall, Himebauch rolls the canvas down and unceremoniously allows the cardboard tubes to thud against the hard floor in the silent room before moving on to the next.
    “It went superb and everyone agreed it was incredibly different and unique. Nobody knew what to expect and it was perplexing that the walls were empty and white upon entrance. I danced to the song ‘Fantastic Man’ by William Onyeabor and it went fantastic, man,” Himebauch said in a statement after the performance.
    Adam Himebauch dancing during a performance in which he hung up his own paintings. Photo courtesy of Gana Art.
    In a press release about the performance, he likened it to Michael Asher’s 1974 exhibition at the Claire S. Copley Gallery in Los Angeles, where the artist removed a wall separating the gallery office from the exhibition, exposing the gallery’s operational reality to the public.
    “By integrating painting and performance in the confines of an exhibition setting, Himebauch challenges conventional expectations of what constitutes a ‘painter’ in the public eye,” his team said in the press release.
    He noted that comments on social media from his fans telling him to “just paint” are common whenever he engages in artistic endeavors beyond traditional painting. “This underscores a prevalent anticipation for a serious ‘painterly’ identity from an artist primarily recognized for painting, prompting Himebauch to subvert these expectations in multiple ways,” his team said.
    Adam Himebauch hanging up his own paintings as a performative statement. Photo courtesy of Gana Art.
    Reviewing his own performance after the fact, Himebauch said his favorite part was walking through the crowd with the ladder because it was “very awkward.”
    “I had trouble loading the staples into the stapler. It was a Korean model I wasn’t familiar with. You just learn to roll with things because it’s the perceived mishaps that make things unique. Imperfectly perfect,” he added. “Elevating everyday studio rituals into art with a capital A is all a matter of set and setting. Art and life in general is perspective.”
    In February, the artist livestreamed a deceptive performance commenting on truth and reality in digital media. That performance, part of the show “Never Ever Land,” involved him claiming to be meditating for a month on a small platform in the middle of Ceysson & Bénétière’s Madison Avenue gallery in New York. He was not, in fact, consistently at the gallery.
    “Here Comes the Twister” is on view at Gana Art Nineone, 91 Hannam-daero, Yongsan District, Seoul, South Korea, through July 21.
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    Naomi Campbell’s V&A Show Is a Glittering Spectacle

    Although it is principally a showcase for the decorative arts, the V&A is not condemned to try and interest new audiences with only ancient ceramics and medieval metalware. The London institution has long ago cracked a magic formula: high fashion = high footfall. The museum has refreshed this winning format with its latest exhibition dedicated to supermodel supremo Naomi Campbell.
    Is there a more worthy member of fashion royalty to receive this place of prominence? Even among the OG set of nineties runway stars like Christy Turlington, Claudia Schiffer, and Linda Evangelista, few reached the same, enduring icon status as Naomi Campbell. “It is an honor,” the model said in a statement, “to share my life in clothes with the world.”
    Installation view of “NAOMI: In Fashion” at the V&A Museum. Photo courtesy of Victoria & Albert Museum.
    Born in London in 1970, Campbell was always a natural performer; she appeared in the music video for Bob Marley’s “Is This Love” at the age of eight and went on to study dance at the renowned Italia Conti Academy of Theatre Arts. She was scouted to be a model on the street in 1986 and by her 16th birthday had already appeared on the cover of British Elle. This feat was to be followed by a string of historic firsts: she was the first Black British woman on the cover of British Vogue in 1987, the first Black woman to ever appear on the cover of Vogue Paris in 1988, and the first Black woman to open a Prada show in 1997, to name just three.
    Such an impressive career makes for an exciting spectacle at “Naomi: In Fashion” (on view until April 2025). Covering the past five decades, vintage pieces of couture, personal photographs, or other mementoes are placed in glass cases beside vast projections that mix up archival footage from catwalks and editorial photoshoots from star photographers including Peter Lindbergh. Campbell’s ability to compel a crowd is undeniable and it is impossible not to be drawn in by this sea of eye-catching imagery.
    Installation view of “NAOMI: In Fashion” at the V&A Museum. Photo courtesy of Victoria & Albert Museum.
    However, as the V&A’s senior curator of fashion, Sonnet Stanfill, openly admitted at a press conference in March: “It is not for us to tell Naomi’s story, we want her to tell her story.” It is unusual to be given free reign to produce a blockbuster exhibition about your own life, and without a more rigorous curatorial eye the finished product is shiny but a tad one-dimensional.
    “Naomi: In Fashion” offers little historical context or meaningful insight and the tone of its guiding wall texts sometimes veers into sycophancy. Fawning exaggerations like “Campbell’s impact on the catwalk and the page is unmatched,” do not feel necessary to convey the model’s import. The work speaks for itself. In another section, a grid of screens features figures like Anna Wintour, RuPaul, and Kate Moss, who each take their turn to provide reverential accounts of their relationships with Campbell.
    Meanwhile, a stint of community service in 2007 after Campbell flung her phone at an employee—allegedly, not for the first time—is reframed as Campbell overcoming “media scrutiny,” by “chronicling the week in W magazine, sharing her remorse and her personal perspective.” On view is the glittering gown that Campbell wore while strutting out of the Manhattan sanitation garage where she had been put to work. Recorded by a swarm of paparazzi, the moment offers an irresistible mix of glamor and audacity, and it is more real and more memorable than the unadulterated adulation to be found elsewhere in this show.
    Installation view of “NAOMI: In Fashion” at the V&A Museum. Photo courtesy of Victoria & Albert Museum.
    As the main lender to the show, Campbell has provided the original items associated with a host of memorable moments from her career. One showstopper is the golden dress with a blue skirt that she wore on her first, history-making cover with British Vogue. Also present are the Vivienne Westwood shoes that sent her toppling over on the runway in 1993 and the head-to-toe protective gear worn on a plane in early 2020, an image that went viral, and became iconic.
    The exhibition’s long run until next Spring is surely a bid for some fantastic visitor numbers and with a subject as iconic and headlining as Campbell, the museum is in good shape to achieve them. Even though the experience of “Naomi: In Fashion” is unusually concise and could probably be completed in about 20 minutes, those willing to simply bask in her glory will find more than enough to marvel at. Anyone hoping for a deeper or more candid insight into Campbell’s life may be left wanting more.
    “Naomi: In Fashion” is on view at the V&A in London through April 6, 2025.
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    Sonya Clark’s New Public Artwork Unpacks the Interwoven Histories of Freedom and Enslavement

    “If people say: ‘Whose eyes are those?’ I am good with that.”
    Artist Sonya Clark was talking about her latest major project, a public artwork titled The Descendants of Monticello, that officially debuts today, June 24, at Declaration House, the Philadelphia landmark where Thomas Jefferson drafted the Declaration of Independence in 1776.
    Clark, in partnership with nonprofit public art, history, and design studio Monument Lab, is shining a light on a lesser-known and discussed aspect of the historical narrative behind one of America’s founding documents. During that summer of 1776, Jefferson was accompanied by 14-year old Robert Hemmings, an enslaved valet that he brought with him from his plantation at Monticello, just outside Charlottesville, Virginia. Hemmings was also the half brother of Jefferson’s wife Martha Wayles Skelton.
    Amid extensive research and a site visit to Monticello earlier this year, Clark realized that there are no known historical images of Hemmings. It became a driving force for the resulting art project: documenting the eyes of the descendants of the roughly 400 people enslaved at Monticello alone. The Descendants of Monticello encompasses a multichannel video installation facing the intersection of 7th and Market streets in Philadelphia.
    Sonya Clark, The Descendants of Monticello (2024), on view at Declaration House, Independence National Historical Park, Philadelphia, PA. Photo: Steve Weinik/Monument Lab.
    Contemporary video portraits of the eyes of living descendants are juxtaposed with photographs of those in Monticello’s archives. It is visible to anyone walking or driving past the site.
    The videos “play in each window, blinking, watching, and haunting the space,” Clark told me. “But I also think of it as being a lighthouse in a way. I think of it as a reclamation.” Her last word nods to the title of the book of the same name, written by her friend Gayle Jessup White, who is herself a descendant of Jefferson.
    From the very start of the project, Clark knew she would be working with the facade of Declaration House and that it would be a public-facing artwork. “I think of the windows as being like the soul of the building—what allows you to see in and see out—aligned with the idea of eyes being the window of our souls. The soul of the nation necessarily is these Black descendants and their eyes.”
    The building itself, which is overseen by the National Park Service, is currently closed. The original was demolished in 1883, before it was reconstructed by the NPS in 1975.
    Sonya Clark at Declaration House, Independence National Historical Park, Philadelphia, PA, 2024. Photo: Terrell Halsey/Monument Lab.
    Clark said the windows are constantly in movement so viewers never see the same eye appear at the same time. “There is something really haunting about having a lot to singular eyes look at you. And you can tell there is so much information even in the reduction or cropping of the image.”
    She worked directly with Jessup White, who also works at Monticello, and the Getting Word African American Oral History Project. Later the installation may travel to and be on display Monticello itself, where historians have recently uncovered new archival information about Hemmings such as samples of his handwriting.
    In a previous project that was shown at the Fabric Workshop in 2019, titled Monumental Cloth, the Flag We Should Know, Clark delved into the history of a lesser-known flag in U.S. history, the one that was flown by the Confederacy during the Civil War and was used to surrender.
    L to R: Paul Farber, director and co-founder of Monument Lab, author Gayle Jessup White, and artist Sonya Clark on a site visit to Monticello in connection with Getting Word, Declaration House, Charlottesville, VA, 2024. Photo: AJ Mitchell/Monument Lab.
    The history of that flag of truce dates back to April 9, 1864, when Confederate General Robert E. Lee sent a rider forward waving it, putting an end to the long and deadly national conflict. Union General Ulysses S. Grant accepted the Confederacy’s surrender and cut the flag in half so that the rider, who had purchased the repurposed dishtowel just days before in Richmond, Virginia, could ensure safe passage back across Union lines. For that project, Clark teamed up with the Fabric Workshop to create 101 replicas of the cloth, including a massive one that was 100 times the size of the original.
    As for Philadelphia and Declaration House, the official unveiling of the project today will be celebrated with a block party, as part of the city’s Welcome America festival, and 15,000 copies of a printed newspaper detailing the project and the significance of the Declaration of Independence will be distributed.
    Sonya Clark, The Descendants of Monticello (2024), on view at Declaration House, Independence National Historical Park, Philadelphia, PA. Photo: Steve Weinik/Monument Lab.
    Like most artists, Clark does not want to be prescriptive about what viewers take away but said it’s fine if people “walk away with an open-ended question.” She added: “That will allow the work to do what I believe artwork does very well. I love the capaciousness and generosity of artwork to hold as many thoughts and ideas as possible.”
    The Descendants of Monticello is on view at Declaration House, 700 Market St, Philadelphia, through September 8.
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    Here’s What You Need to Know About Chicago Imagist Christina Ramberg and Her ‘Furtive Figuration’

    “My aim is to make from my obsessions and ideas the strongest, most coherent visual statement possible,” artist Christina Ramberg once said, describing her process and intentions.
    Closely affiliated with the Chicago Imagists, a loose group of artists formed in the mid-1960s who favored representation and bold aesthetics, Ramberg (1946–1995) produced a powerful body of work with a distinctive personal style during her comparatively short life and career.
    Ramberg’s work is immediately recognizable, primarily focused on figural elements of the female form—such as hands, hairstyles, garments, and, most notably, torsos—and rendered in a graphic and highly stylized aesthetic. Tapping contrasting themes and ideas and embracing experimental modes of framing and cropping, Ramberg forged an intrepid path along the boundary between abstraction and representation.
    Installation view of “Christina Ramberg: A Retrospective” (2024). Courtesy of the Art Institute of Chicago.
    Heralding a resurgence of interest and critical attention to Ramberg’s singular oeuvre is the exhibition “Christina Ramberg: A Retrospective,” on view at the Art Institute of Chicago through August 11, 2024—the first comprehensive survey of her work in nearly three decades. Bringing together roughly 100 works from the Art Institute’s collection as well as from other public and private collections, the show traces her evolving style from early paintings that explored pattern and form through to her mature (and most recognizable) works that feature female torsos, lingerie, and restraints.
    Marking this pivotal retrospective, we took a deep dive into Ramberg’s life and work, and below are (just) the essentials you should know about her practice.
    Installation view of “Christina Ramberg: A Retrospective” (2024). Courtesy of the Art Institute of Chicago.
    Early Inspirations
    Even while still a student at the School of the Art Institute of Chicago (SAIC), Ramberg’s fixation with elements of the human body—namely hair, hands, and women’s garments—was evident in her work. Studying under some of the institution’s most historically influential teachers, including Ray Yoshida, a primary mentor of what would become the Chicago Imagists, Ramberg along with her classmates produced work that focused on what the present retrospective terms “furtive figuration.”
    Christina Ramberg, Belle Rêve (1969). Photo: Jamie Stukenberg. © The Estate of Christina Ramberg. Collection of Michael J. Robertson and Christopher A. Slapak.
    This approach to figuration first fully coalesced in a series of student exhibitions with SAIC as well as in two exhibitions, “False Image” and “False Image II,” organized by Ramberg and fellow students in 1968 and 1969 at Chicago’s Hyde Park Art Center. “We are interested in the effects gained by withholding information in a work,” Ramberg told the Chicago Daily News while describing the ethos of the work created by the False Image exhibition artists. And withhold her work did.
    Christina Ramberg, Hair (1968). Photo: Kris Graves. © The Estate of Christina Ramberg. Collection of Joel Wachs, New York.
    An isolated bustier, a cropped foot in a heeled shoe, or, most well-known from the period, depictions of women’s heads from behind, with only the details of their hairstyle shown, Ramberg’s early works were nearly as recognizable for what they showed as for what they didn’t. Within the context of Ramberg’s oeuvre, they foreshadow the artist’s creative trajectory and the themes and motifs that ultimately served as the foundation for her most important works.
    Iconic Forms
    The 1970s saw Ramberg produce her most iconic body of work. Continuing her exploration of isolated body parts and their configuration, which can be traced in her meticulous sketches and studies of hands, the feminine elements of her work took a turn to the risqué. Corsetry and black lace, brassieres and other lingerie coupled with suggestive poses as well as hands in contorted shapes with carmine-painted nails—and never featuring the subjects’ face—each of Ramberg’s compositions allude to the various ways women’s bodies can be shaped and fashioned.
    Christina Ramberg, Probed Cinch (1971). Photo: Clements/Howcroft, Boston. © The estate of Christina Ramberg. Private Collection, New York.
    Ramberg’s memories of watching her mother dress informed the works, with Ramberg describing “… I think that the paintings have a lot to do with this, with watching and realizing that a lot of these undergarments totally transform a woman’s body … I thought it was fascinating … in some ways, I thought it was awful.”
    Operating along the line between “fascinating” and “awful,” Ramberg’s paintings are at once uncanny and sensually alluring, tapping into the language of fetishism.
    Christina Ramberg, Black ‘N Blue Jacket (1981). Photo: Jamie Stukenberg. © The Estate of Christina Ramberg. Collection of Kathy and Chuck Harper, Chicago.
    As her practice evolved, however, Ramberg’s figures became less erotic—and less human overall. Pieces from the late 1970s and early 1980s once again feature her signature cropped female torsos but they instead appear robotic, and even diagrammatic; the core elements of painting, such as color, line, shape, and more specifically their precision (a facet of work she had then become most well-known for) became as much the subject of her work as the figures depicted.
    Artist as Collector
    Although Ramberg is best known for her paintings, a consideration of her oeuvre would be incomplete without mentioning her penchant for collecting.
    Ramberg was a prolific collector of objects that in turn served as potent sources of inspiration for her formal works. Frequenting thrift stores and garage sales, as well as the Maxwell Street Market by Chicago’s Southside, Ramberg sought what SAIC Professor Ray Yoshida dubbed “trash treasure,” a term used for one of the sections dedicated to her collecting within the retrospective.
    An iteration of Christina Ramberg’s “Doll Wall” installed in her Chicago apartment (1972). Courtesy of the Art Institute of Chicago.
    Of the myriad things she collected—from comic book pages to medical illustrations—Ramberg’s collection of dolls, which numbers into the hundreds, stands out the most. In several of the apartments Ramberg lived in throughout her life, she mounted many of these dolls on the wall as well as in exhibitions of her work, but never in the same arrangement twice. In the Art Institute’s retrospective, 155 of her dolls are on view in a manner similar to how she would have presented them. The collection of dolls speaks to her fascination with the body, and her collection ranged from relatively new, mass-produced pieces that reflected racial and gender stereotypes of the time to unique, handmade dolls that give insight into both the doll’s maker and its intended recipient.
    Installation view of “Christina Ramberg: A Retrospective” (2024). Courtesy of the Art Institute of Chicago.
    Ramberg discussed her doll collection in a 1989 Chicago Tribune interview, saying, “I was interested only in the dolls that had been owned by someone. The ones where the face was worn off and redrawn in, or where something very strange had transpired. What I like about them is their sense of history. I’m interested in what is implied. And the simple fact that they had a life.”
    A Turn to Textiles
    While Ramberg had long engaged with quilting as a pastime, it wasn’t until the early 1980s that it became a central aspect of her formal artistic practice, allowing her to step back from painting for several years. Beginning in 1983, her quilts were exhibited in gallery and museum shows, with each highlighting the experimental, explorative nature of her work—and harkening back to her penchant for collecting. Though Ramberg relied on traditional quilting techniques and construction, she frequently employed unusual color schemes and patterns as well as fabrics, which were sourced on her travels as well as “trash treasure” missions.
    Christina Ramberg, Japanese Showcase (1984). Photo: Jamie Stukenberg. © The Estate of Christina Ramberg. Courtesy of the Estate of Ray Yoshida and Corbett vs. Dempsey.
    Just as her habit of collecting provided creative inspiration, her time spent focused on quilting ultimately fostered new ideas and approaches to painting, which she returned to in the mid-1980s with her “satellite paintings.” These new works were markedly different from her previous paintings in both style and material; where previously she favored acrylic on Masonite and applied delicate layers of paint and used careful brushstrokes, she now worked entirely in oil on canvas with impasto paint application, intense scumbling, and visible underpainting.
    Christina Ramberg, Untitled #123 (1986). Photo: Jamie Stukenberg. © The Estate of Christina Ramberg. Courtesy of Corbett vs. Dempsey.
    Ramberg’s compositions too were a departure from her usual subject matter. The sketch-like geometry and lines, surely inspired by the grids and repetition of quilt patterns, are evocative of a satellite or transmission tower, and their inscrutability evokes the air of abstraction.
    Installation view of “Christina Ramberg: A Retrospective” (2024). Courtesy of the Art Institute of Chicago.
    Despite a return to painting, Ramberg never ceased quilting. The year before her diagnosis with Prick’s disease—also known as frontotemporal dementia, a rare neurodegenerative disease, which would take her life at the age of 49—she created some of the most innovative and dynamic quilts of her career. Synthesizing material from her archive of collected materials and compositional elements from her earlier paintings, she numbered these late quilted works starting with the Roman numeral “I,” as opposed to her other works of the period which were already numbered into the hundreds, indicating she saw these pieces as a fresh start and new horizon even at the twilight of her life.
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    See Frida Kahlo in Her Element in a New York Show of Rare Photographs

    Over her brief but dazzling life, Frida Kahlo was photographed by some of the greatest talents of her generation, from her lover Nickolas Muray to Edward Weston to her dear friend the Swiss artist Lucienne Bloch.  
    Nickolas Muray, Frida Kahlo with Magenta Rebozo “Classic” (1939). Courtesy of Throckmorton Fine Art.
    In the decades since her death in 1954 at the age of 47, Kahlo’s image has seemingly become an extension of her painting practice in a way unlike really any other artist. Her iconic brow and black coils of braided hair burned into popular consciousness, along with her self-adornment in indigenous dress and Aztec jewels. 
    A new exhibition “Frida Kahlo: Forever Yours” at New York’s Throckmorton Fine Art makes the case that these photographic portraits of Kahlo are, in fact, a unique expression of the Mexican artist’s creative persona. 
    The dazzling exhibition (through September 7) presents 50 high-quality photographs of Kahlo dating from 1929 to 1951, including iconic portraits, tender moments with her husband, the artist Diego Rivera, and playful, as well as irreverent moments with friends (Kahlo with a lampshade on her head? You bet.) The images represent just a small fraction of “Frida photographs” from the collection of dealer Spencer Throckmorton who started collecting photographs of the artist in 1977. 
    Guillermo Kahlo, Portrait of Frida Kahlo, Oct 16, 1932. Courtesy of Throckmorton Fine Art.
    “I have photographs of Frida since she was four years old,” he said in a phone interview earlier this month (you can see a video of the dealer discussing the show here). For Throckmorton, the show charts both the artist’s maturation over the decades but also her finesse and dexterity in engaging with the medium of photography. “Through these photographs see her become a totally self-assured and mature painter, believing in herself as she grows,” he said, “We see that the photographs are beautiful and beautifully posed—Frida had worked for her father who was a photographer when she was very young and he taught her how to pose for the camera.”  
    A portrait of Kahlo by her father, Guillermo Kahlo, appears in the show—a piercing image that shows the young artist staring out from the camera with penetrating intensity. The portrait was taken when Kahlo returned to Mexico by train from New York following her mother’s death in 1932.  
    The poignancy of these photographs is often rooted in Kahlo’s intimate connections to the photographers themselves. Several brilliantly colorful photographs of Kahlo taken by her lover Nickolas Muray appear in the exhibition, including the iconic image Frida Kahlo with Magenta Rebozo “Classic”. In several of these portraits, Kahlo adopts classical stances seemingly plucked out of Rennaissance paintings—an artful positioning Throckmorton says reflects their relationship.
    Lucienne Bloch, Frida, and Diego, with Colleagues, Viewing a Solar Eclipse on the DIA roof (1932). Courtesy of Throckmorton Fine Art.
    “Nickolas Muray came along and taught her classical poses. She was a natural because she was studying art history. A lot of the poses he took of Frida were based on Renaissance and 17th- and 18th-century paintings,” Throckmorton explained.  
    Other photographs by the artist Lucienne Bloch are delightfully informal. “Lucienne was a friend of hers so Frida lets her hair down. One photographer shows Frida with a doily on her head—another one with a bottle of wine. There’s the one of her with a lampshade on her head!”
    Nickolas Muray, Frida with Olmeca Figurine, Coyoacán (20/30) (1939). Courtesy of Throckmorton Fine Art.
    Other images highlight Kahlo’s considered and passionate engagement with fashion and the ways dress and jewelry became her embodied mode of celebrating indigenous culture and Aztec heritage. “In 1929, Frida started to wear Mexican indigenous clothing from the Indians of the coast of Mexico and Tijuana with long skirts. She loved jewelry and a lot of her jewelry was made by William Spratling, an American. It was a very specific way of presenting herself,” he explained.  
    Edward Weston, Frida Kahlo Side Pose / Abstract drawing by Frida on verso (1931). Courtesy of Throckmorton Fine Art.
    In other ways, the photographs influenced Kahlo’s painting practice directly. One portrait in the show by Leon DeVos shows Kahlo with a downward gaze—it is an image Kahlo would later base a self-portrait. “She used the photograph as a model to paint her Self-Portrait with Jade Necklace, 1933. It’s almost identical to the pose of the photograph,” said Throckmorton, “I talked to Solomon Greenberg [the leading expert on Kahlo] and he says a lot of the photographs relate to her paintings.”  
    Other highlights in the show include three photographs from 1931 taken in San Francisco by Edward Weston each of which Kahlo doodled on the back of. Another gem: a print of Kahlo and Rivera on the roof of the Detroit Institute of Art, watching the solar eclipse with a crowd—it’s the only vintage print none to exist.  
    For painting devotees, the exhibition also includes the Kahlo painting La Risa, which features a Mexican folk mask used in indigenous dances in festivals, as well as two drawings, which Frida made after she came back from Paris in 1939, made in purple crayon.
    The exhibition, Throckmorton says is a chance to glimpse, “just how fabulous and intelligent Frida really was.”

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    ‘Now I Know How Michelangelo Felt’: Archie Moore On Drawing 65,000 Years of Indigenous History

    Archie Moore has made history. Not only did he become the first artist from Australia and the first First Nations artist to win the coveted Golden Lion for best national pavilion at the 60th edition of the Venice Biennale this spring, his “quietly powerful” installation “kith and kin” is also a work that dives deep into history, tracing the footsteps of his ancestors dated as far back as 65,000 years in a meticulously hand-drawn family tree inscribed across the surface of the walls and ceilings of the pavilion.
    “The recording of names, places and time in the family tree drawing serves as proof of identity — evidence of my Aboriginality,” he said. Born in 1970 in Toowoomba, a city in Queensland, Australia, Moore is a Kamilaroi-Bigambul artist whose practice centers around histories—his own and those of his nation. He explores key signifiers of identity: skin, language, and genealogy, racism, and understanding and misunderstanding that occur between cultures.
    The somber work in “kith and kin” is the embodiment of his research that took place over more than four years and included 3,484 people; with piles of state records on display in the center of the installation, Moore draws attention to the depth of research as well as the high rates of incarceration of First Nations people, and its documentation.
    We caught up with Moore to learn more about his historical win in Venice, which will sow the seeds for changes to come in the future.
    Archie Moore, “kith and kin” (2024), Australia Pavilion at Venice Biennale 2024. Photographer: Andrea Rossetti. © the artist. Image courtesy of the artist and The Commercial.
    As the first Australian and the Kamilaroi-Bigambul artist to win this coveted award, were you surprised when they announced that you were the winner at the auditorium? How did you feel when you were sitting there at the ceremony?
    I was very happy to receive the award. While I didn’t know that we were going to win the Golden Lion, we did get a phone call from La Biennale the night before saying that we should attend the ceremony. The call came in just as Naminapu Maymuru-White (who is exhibiting in “Foreigners Everywhere”), her grandson Ŋalakan Wanambi and Merrkiyawuy Ganambarr arrived at “kith and kin” to sing to all of the ancestors that I inscribed into the artwork. It was an incredibly moving experience and I felt touched that they wanted to make this significant gesture within my installation. Naminapu and Ŋalakan gifted me a golden owl artwork, which in retrospect seems like it was a premonition of things to come.
    The process of creating “kith and kin” appears to be very intense to outsiders just by the sound of it. It is hard to imagine the incredible amount of research involved (how many pages of documents are we talking about?), and the labor of spending two months inscribing the 65,000 years of history on the dark walls of the pavilion. How was this work developed?
    My research started in 2016. I started looking in the archives for my mother’s Kamilaroi-Bigambul side and my father’s British-Scottish side. I have come across hundreds of pages of material in archives and museums and digitized newspapers and archives on the National Library of Australia’s search engine Trove as well. I’ve been using the genealogical website ancestry.com and there are more than 3,500 people in my ancestry.com tree.
    I spoke to a lot of people through the Ancestry website, mainly descendants of people who were relatives of people who worked or owned properties around where my parents lived, asking if they had letters, photographs, stories, or rumors that tie back to my family. I also talked to many family members in Inverell and Brisbane.
    The recording of names, places, and time in the family tree drawing serves as proof of identity—evidence of my Aboriginality. If anyone were to research those names of my ancestors you will find records that identify them and their tribal groups. This proof of Aboriginality may be required for employment in Indigenous-identified positions, enrolling in schools, government loans and assistance, and for land rights claims where a continuous and unbroken connection to [the] country since colonization needs to be proven. The artwork continues to grow by adding new names, places and other information.
    Archie Moore, “kith and kin” (2024), Australia Pavilion at Venice Biennale 2024. Photographer: Andrea Rossetti. © the artist. Image courtesy of the artist and The Commercial.
    How did you pull it off with those months spent in Venice? What were your working hours? What motivated you to keep going and completing the work? How did you share the work with your three collaborators? What was the most challenging part?
    I had to draw the mural twice. I did it once at 1:3 scale in Australia in pen and paper on my kitchen table. This was then digitised and placed within a digital model of the pavilion so that we could see the composition of the artwork and tweak the artwork before coming to Venice. And then again in the Australia Pavilion over eight-hour days, six days a week for five weeks. We would draw for 45 minutes and then stretch and rest to ensure our bodies could endure the long installation process. The writing on the ceiling was the most physically challenging and now I know how Michelangelo felt working on the Sistine Chapel.
    You have said that your family’s history was something you had “been avoiding.” But this changed when you became interested in genealogy, and you took the opportunity to ask your mother a lot of questions. How and why did you change from avoiding your family’s history to embracing and diving deep into it? What kind of questions did you ask your mother? 
    My Mother’s minor stroke was what made it urgent—the thought of losing that archive and she also became more open about discussing things. The stroke also seems to have made her more lucid. I was asking her about people I would see mentioned in archival material. I was cross-referencing what she said with what was written down in an official document. This made me aware of how good her memory was.
    For instance, I came across a genealogical chart from when anthropologist Norman Tindale visited Boggabilla in 1938 and interviewed my great-grandmother on my maternal side. What Tindale recorded from my great-grandmother seems very accurate and correlates with what my mother has said. He drew a Western linear family tree; in my artwork the linear part of the mural becomes engulfed with and outnumbered by all the traditional Aboriginal names for people, plants, animals, waterways and land.
    Archie Moore, “kith and kin” (2024), Australia Pavilion at Venice Biennale 2024. Photographer: Andrea Rossetti. © the artist. Image courtesy of the artist and The Commercial.
    The epic family tree you realized at the pavilion represents 65,000 years of history, and yet, none of this was mentioned in your school days. Has this changed today? And how do you think the visibility and exposure of your Golden Lion win will make a further difference?
    I don’t know exactly what is in the school curriculum of today, but I hope there is more of First Nations history being taught compared to when I went to school and was taught that Australia’s history started with Captain Cook and the British invasion. One of the aims of the exhibition was to bring international attention to First Nations Australian culture, sovereignty, and greater recognition of Indigenous deaths in custody and the lack of action in solving this fatal issue. The artwork also highlights how we are all part of one larger family and should be living in peace. Moreover, “kith and kin” foregrounds how injustices, such as racial discrimination and deaths in custody, would not happen if we saw ourselves as part of one large family.
    On the Creative Australia website there’s a warning that there may be names or images of First Nations people who are deceased on the website. Is there superstition about this among the Kamilaroi and Bigambul people? Can you share with us some special cultural traditions or characteristics among the Kamilaroi and Bigambul that a lot of people especially foreigners don’t know about? 
    In most Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander communities, hearing recordings, seeing images or the names of deceased persons may cause sadness or distress and, in some cases, offend against strongly held cultural prohibitions.
    At the entrance to the “kith and kin” exhibition, there is a warning that the artwork contains names of the deceased. The names of the deceased in the coronial inquests have been redacted out of respect for the dead, even though this is publicly available information so that they aren’t just represented as statistics. While names in the family tree are represented as part of a tightly woven kinship system.
    Artist Archie Moore stands on stage with his Golden Lion at the Lion Award Ceremony during the Art Biennale. Photo: Felix Hörhager/picture alliance via Getty Images.
    Do you agree that the theme of “Foreigners Everywhere” has finally set a stage for the art world and beyond to properly look at the historical voids of the violence of the colonial era? With many still haunted by the histories of colonization or even facing re-colonization, how will this edition’s Venice Biennale make a difference?
    I’ve made an artwork that comes from the personal histories of my family. Accessing documents from archives that feature my great-great-great-grandfather—where my family began to be documented—and everyone else related. Although the accounts of how they were classified, documented, and the nature of their circumstances are personal, they are not unique and other Aboriginal people will have similar experiences. The exhibition covers more than 65,000 years of time; I wanted to show how long Aboriginal cultures have existed and—in spite of invasion, massacres, and systemic over-incarceration —continue to exist into the now.
    Did you have time to look at the Biennale or other exhibitions in Venice? Do you have any favorites? 
    Unfortunately, I did not have time to see all 87 pavilions. The Cercle d’Art des Travailleurs de Plantation Congolaise at the Dutch pavilion with their objective of land regeneration through art was one of the highlights.
    What will happen to the family tree inscribed on the walls of the pavilion when the exhibition concludes in November?
    I chose to use the material of chalk in “kith and kin” because it represents the fragility of life; it is a metaphor for how easily people, histories, and memories can be wiped away. At the end of the exhibition, the walls will be painted over, but those names will forever be part of the pavilion’s DNA. The ancestors and family members will be inscribed onto the walls of the Queensland Art Gallery | Gallery of Modern Art in Brisbane, Australia when “kith and kin” is on display in 2025-2026. The installation can be re-made again in other locations.
    What is next for you? 
    My next exhibition expands upon my series of ‘Dwelling’ installations in which viewers are immersed within the architecture and memories of my childhood home. For this exhibition at Samstag Museum of Art [in Adelaide, Australia] there will be a significant moving image component as it is commissioned with the 2024 Adelaide Film Festival.
    The 60th Venice Biennale runs through November 24. 
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    Home Is Where the Art Is: 3 Superb Apartment Shows in New York City

    Perhaps it has happened to you. You are walking down a Manhattan sidewalk and catch sight of an intriguing artwork through an apartment window. I try not to be too weird about it. I slow down a bit and investigate, discreetly. What’s that on the wall? An early Robert Rauschenberg? An unusual Cindy Sherman? Alas, I can rarely tell. There is a lot of art in this world, and the finest stuff tends to hang in apartments far from the gazes of passersby.
    Recently, though, there have been some excellent art shows in New York apartments operating as art spaces, accessible to the general public, no spying or special invitation necessary. They are reminders that all you really need to start a gallery is a clean, well-lighted place (which is the name that the writer Dave Hickey gave to his fabled Austin gallery in the 1960s, borrowing the title of the Ernest Hemingway short story).
    Below are three such exhibitions, one apiece in Queens, Manhattan, and Brooklyn. While they are modest in scale, don’t count that against them. Remember that, in 1957, the art dealer Leo Castelli converted a room in his Upper East Side apartment into an exhibition space. He went on to do some big things.
    Tisch Abelow’s Nuclear Family (2024) in ‘Nuclear Family’ in ‘Shoot for the Stars’ at Swanson Kuball. Photo courtesy Swanson Kuball.
    A Family Affair in Long Island City
    The most heartwarming show in town of late? A strong contender has to be “Shoot for the Stars,”  which featured five artists from one extended family at Swanson Kuball, the Long Island City residence of proprietors Laura Swanson and Greg Kuball.
    The canny painter Joshua Abelow—a longtime New York presence who’s run an unusual space of his own upstate—delivered four spare, small new canvases, each with the silhouette of a man, faceless, seemingly on fire, and a few snapshots of suburbia. His sister Tisch Abelow‘s contributions included a meaty, cartoony portrait of the two artists as children with their (somewhat frazzled) parents. The Abelows’ late grandmother Paula Brunner Abelow was here, too, with vivid depictions of her husband, her children, and herself. The youngest participant was nine-year-old Lev Lazarus (the son of Joshua’s partner, Katya Kirilloff), who has a winning touch with pencils and markers, conjuring Minecraft figures and a grinning Joshua.
    Kirilloff, for her part, sketched a faint self-portrait on a grocery bag—a mom enjoying a quiet moment—and painted a gouache of Lazarus that is disarmingly realistic, except for his two fanged teeth. Titled Vampire Boy (2023), it registers a dissonant note, alluding to familial power dynamics that tend to go unspoken and unseen.
    Installation view of ‘Dave Miko: Welcome Weary Wanderer’ at Bill Cournoyer/The Meeting, with And Winter Roses (2024) at right. Photo courtesy the Meeting.
    Scintillating Paintings in the West Village
    New York has seen too little of the ace painter Dave Miko recently. “Welcome Weary Wanderer,” his current outing at Bill Cournoyer’s West Village apartment space, the Meeting, is his first solo show in the city in 10 years (R.I.P., Real Fine Arts) and his first solo anywhere in nine. Its 10 works are characteristically alluring, action-packed, slippery not-quite abstractions. The majority are oil on aluminum sheets (about square or oddly shaped), the approach Miko is known for, but there are also enamel-on-panel numbers. Looser and hazier, these could be spectral visions or close-ups of sprayed graffiti.
    A faint melancholy lingers. Arrows swim around the green and copper Next to the Map (all works 2024). It’s a strong picture, but the best one here is the biggest, And Winter Roses. (A Hank Williams nod?) It’s 6 feet tall, a gray field bedecked with choppy black lines—you can just about hear Miko’s brush or knife sliding or skittering across the aluminum—that partially obscure large words. I can make out “solitude,” for one. Let’s hope there’s not too much of that. Miko, 50 this year, is making art that is at once plainspoken and otherworldly, thrilling and strange. You have until June 29 to see it.
    Another view of Jacob Kassay’s show in Brooklyn Heights.
    Mysterious Glass in Brooklyn Heights
    Until New York’s 303 Gallery posted on Instagram late last month about artist Jacob Kassay‘s furtive project in a Brooklyn Heights apartment, news of its existence had been spreading only by word of mouth, like a rumor. A few days later, the by-appointment-only display closed. Titled “Khiropractik,” it was a kind of uncanny coda or reprise of Kassay’s solo show of the same name at Galerie Art Concept in Paris earlier this year.
    The modest one-bedroom was bathed in red light—jarring at first, then serene, as in the Dream House (1969) of La Monte Young and Marian Zazeela. Foreboding glass creatures, centipedes the size of small dogs, were (barely) present—one on a table, three on the walls—lurking, as if momentarily frozen or beaming in from another dimension. Each of their 23 pairs of legs were perfectly, awfully rendered.
    A news release for the French show likens the sculptures to “optical instruments, and more metaphorically, cinematographic devices by proxy.” What do they show us? What do they allow us to see? Fragile and ingenious models of a species that is more than 400 million years old, they could be taken as memento mori (these things will outlive us), or simply as invitations to look and think about art from unusual angles and against various spans of time. It was an enigmatic exhibition with at least one crystal-clear message: superb art can thrive in any environment.
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    Two Amsterdam Museums Join Forces for a Sprawling Anselm Kiefer Exhibition

    In an unprecedented collaboration, the Stedelijk Museum and Van Gogh Museum are teaming up to host a sprawling exhibition on Anselm Kiefer. Opening in 2025, the show will be presented as a diptych across both Amsterdam institutions, with each part tracing key aspects of the German artist’s oeuvre and creative influences through his past and new works. 
    The show, “Anselm Kiefer: Sag mir wo die Blumen sind,” is headlined by a new spatial work that the artist is unveiling at the Stedelijk. Still being completed by Kiefer, the 24-meter-long installation is set to occupy the space around the venue’s historic staircase. Its title, also the exhibition’s, is borrowed from Pete Seeger’s seminal 1955 folk song “Where Have All the Flowers Gone,” later made famous by Marlene Dietrich, and points to the flowers—specifically, Van Gogh’s Sunflowers—that inspired the artist’s most recent landscapes. 
    At the Stedelijk exhibition, Sag mir wo die Blumen sind, as well as another new installation, will join Kiefer’s earlier works that are emerging from the museum’s collection. The Stedelijk boasts a long relationship with the artist, marked by its hosting of his 1986 solo show and acquisition of his paintings including Innenraum (1981) and Märkischer Sand (1982). This latest exhibition will display all the Kiefer pieces the museum holds, offering a rare survey of the artist’s decades-spanning career.
    Anselm Kiefer, Innenraum (1981). Photo courtesy of Stedelijk Museum Amsterdam.
    “It will be truly remarkable to see these [new] installations shortly amid several of his iconic works from the 1980s,” Rein Wolfs, the Stedelijk’s director, said in a statement. “In this way, Kiefer looks back at the past and towards the future.’ 
    Born in Donaueschingen in 1945, Kiefer is best known for his unflinching works that confront the myth-making, grief, and silence of a postwar Germany. “Ruins, for me, are the beginning,” he once said. His materials have ranged from lead and concrete to shellac and impasto; his tools acid baths and blowtorches. Somber and totemic, his paintings and sculptures are held in museum collections around the world and have earned him a prime spot in Europe’s Contemporary canon.
    Vincent van Gogh, Wheatfield with Crows (1890). Van Gogh Museum collection (Vincent van Gogh Foundation). Photo courtesy of the Van Gogh Museum.
    Throughout Kiefer’s long career, poet Paul Celan and German Romanticism have been guiding lights, as has Vincent Van Gogh. In his early years, the artist traced the Dutch painter’s journey from the Netherlands to Arles, France, where the 17-year-old Kiefer spent three weeks on a farm creating a body of drawings. Speaking to an audience at the Tate Britain in 2019, he explained he was not drawn to the emotional content of Van Gogh’s work, but rather his “workmanlike clarity.” 
    “What impressed me even then was the rational structure, the confident construction of his pictures—in a life that was increasingly slipping out of his control,” he said.
    Anselm Kiefer, The Starry Night (2019) © Anselm Kiefer. Photo: Georges Poncet.
    The exhibition at the Van Gogh Museum unpacks the Impressionist’s deep influence on Kiefer. It will bring the Dutchman’s key masterpieces together with the German artist’s new paintings, with the most notable pairings highlighting how sunflowers have served as motifs in both Van Gogh’s and Kiefer’s bodies of work—as in the former’s La Berceuse (1889) and the latter’s Tournesols (1996).
    “Anselm Kiefer has been engaged with Van Gogh’s work from his early years. His recent work—displayed here for the first time—shows how Van Gogh continues to make his mark on Kiefer’s work today,” said Emilie Gordenker, director of the Van Gogh Museum. 
    The Stedelijk showcase is overseen by curator Leontine Coelewij and the Van Gogh Museum exhibition by curator Edwin Becker. Visitors need only purchase one ticket to access both shows at the museums. 
    “Anselm Kiefer: Sag mir wo die Blumen sind” will be on view at the Stedelijk Museum Amsterdam, Museumplein 10, Amsterdam, Netherlands, and the Van Gogh Museum, Museumplein 6, Amsterdam, Netherlands, March 7–June 9, 2025. 
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