Art & Exhibitions

Wide-ranging interest in the work and life of Matisse is clear from the spate of museum exhibitions held around the world in recent years. From side-by-side presentations with Pierre-Auguste Renoir and Joan Miró, in Philadelphia and Nice respectively, to a deep dive into The Red Studio (Fondation Louis Vuitton and MoMA), and his wildly popular “cut-outs” in 2015, fans and historians can’t seem to get enough.
Now, a recently opened show, Matisse and Marguerite: Through Her Father’s Eyes, running at the Museum of Modern Art in Paris through August 24, delves into fresh but no less important territory: his love for his eldest daughter. The show explores their lifelong bond and the many ways it inspired him—including dozens of portraits of his daughter. The show includes paintings, drawings, prints, sculptures, and ceramics.
The works also serve as a window into history, with chronologically presented images ranging from her childhood to the end of World War II. More than 100 works are on view, many of which have rarely—if ever—been exhibited. Institutions in the United States, Switzerland, and Japan have loaned significant pieces. Photographs and archival materials provide an immersive look at their bond.
Family and Foundation
Marguerite Duthuit-Matisse was born in 1894. Her mother was the model Caroline Joblau, with whom Matisse was in a relationship before marrying Amélie Noellie Parayre, when Marguerite was four. She was raised by Matisse and Amélie alongside her two half-brothers, Jean and Pierre. Marguerite later wrote of their close-knit household: “We are like the five fingers of one hand.”
Marguerite circa 1915. Photographic archives of Henri Matisse. Credit: Henri Matisse archives
Meeting Marguerite Again
Isabelle Monod Fontaine, who has studied Matisse’s oeuvre for decades, co-curated the show with Hélène de Talhouët. Speaking by phone from Paris, Fontaine recalled meeting Marguerite in the mid-1970s, roughly seven years before her death.
“She impressed me very much, asking questions about paintings for the museum where I was working at the time,” Fontaine said. She described Marguerite as having “a very strong personality,” and likened the exhibition to “meeting” her again.
The show reveals the immense mutual trust and respect between Matisse and his daughter—and offers insight into the fascinating destiny of a singular woman who played a pivotal role in her father’s career.
Marguerite lisant Collioure, Summer 1906
Henri Matisse, Marguerite lisant Collioure, Summer 1906 Musée de Grenoble. Legs Agutte-Sembat, (1923). Credit: Ville de Grenoble / Musée de Grenoble-J.L. Lacroix
Matisse had already painted Marguerite in 1905’s Intérieur à la fillette, now at MoMA, when he made her the focus of several works executed in Collioure the following summer. In the Marguerite lisant Collioure, Summer 1906, Marguerite sits absorbed in a book, wearing a bright red dress and white collar, her bow matching her outfit as she leans thoughtfully on one hand.
Painted during a pivotal Fauvist phase, the portrait is notable for its intense palette and unmodeled brushwork. The composition’s calm intimacy balances the vibrant tones. It was shown at the 1906 Salon d’Automne and was admired by Marcel Sembat, who compared its luminosity to Velázquez.

Marguerite Collioure, hiver 1906-1907  (Spring  1907)
Henri Matisse, Marguerite (winter 1906-1907 or spring 1907). Musée national Picasso-Paris. Donation Picasso, 1978. Collection personnelle Pablo Picasso Credit: Grand palais RMN (musée national Picasso-Paris) / René-Gabriel Ojeda
As she transitioned into adolescence, Marguerite is depicted “proudly confronting the viewer,” according to the exhibition catalogue. A childhood bout of diphtheria left her requiring two tracheotomies. The resulting scar, often hidden by high collars or a black ribbon, became a defining motif. Her health kept her out of school, making her even more of a “studio kid.”
The stylized rendering—teal blouse, greenish-black hair, ochre background—reflects Matisse’s embrace of flat planes and expressive color. This particular painting was exchanged with Picasso in 1907, a gesture of mutual admiration during their early rivalry.

Marguerite au chat noir Issy-les-Moulineaux, (début 1910)
Henri Matisse, Marguerite au chat noir Issy-les-Moulineaux, early 1910. Paris, Centre Pompidou – Musée National d’Art Moderne / Centre de Création Industrielle. Gift of Madame Barbara Duthuit in memory of Claude Duthuit, 2013. Credit: © Centre Pompidou, MNAM-CCI, Dist. RMN-Grand Palais / Georges Meguerditchian.
Seated formally in a blue dress, Marguerite cradles a black cat and gazes directly outward, her expression more “defiant” than in earlier portraits. The high collar reappears, with the vibrant green and pink background accentuating her poised presence.
This stylized composition was exhibited in Berlin and at the 1913 Armory Show in New York, where it startled American audiences. Matisse kept the work until his death, signaling its personal importance. It was posthumously gifted by Barbara Duthuit, Marguerite’s daughter-in-law.

Tête blanche et rose Paris, quai Saint-Michel, (été 1914–début 1915)
Henri Matisse, Tête blanche et rose, Paris, Quai Saint-Michel, summer 1914 – early 1915. Paris, Centre Pompidou – Musée National d’Art Moderne / Centre de Création Industrielle. Acquired in 1976. Credit: © Centre Pompidou, MNAM-CCI, Dist. RMN-Grand Palais / Philippe Migeat.
In October 1912, Marguerite went to live with her aunt, Berthe Paraye, who ran a teachers’ training college in Ajaccio, Corsica. She had hoped to complete a degree, but the experience proved too challenging. In 1915, she returned to live with her parents and began painting.
This portrait, executed around 1915, shows her as an elegant young woman with a Cubist-inspired twist—her features simplified and stylized beneath an elaborate hat. It is part of a series of portraits that, according to the exhibition materials, “culminated in a highly geometric, austere, and unsettling painting: White and Pink Head.”
Created during the wartime years, the painting exemplifies a period when Matisse developed a radical, uncompromising style. Marguerite, with her characteristic strength, went along with him in that “new adventure, lending her face to a number of experiments” in painting, drawing, engraving, and sculpture.

Marguerite endormie Étretat, (été 1920)
Henri Matisse, Marguerite endormie Etretat, (Summer 1920). Private Collection. Credit: Private collection / © Martin Parsekian
After Marguerite underwent a second surgery in the summer of 1920, Matisse took her to Étretat in Normandy. The trip was intended both to help her regain strength in the invigorating seaside setting and to give him a chance to work on new subjects and portraits.
Amid her ongoing recovery, she often appeared exhausted, and this portrait captures her asleep—resting in a moment of vulnerability and peace. It is also the first image in which she does not wear a ribbon or high collar to hide the scar on her throat. “Her eyes closed and her throat finally liberated—a sweet and precious picture that shows a tenderness Matisse hardly ever expressed in paint, and reserved for his daughter,” the catalogue notes.
The artworks created during this sojourn mark a quiet turning point—a return to life, both for Marguerite and for their creative connection.

Marguerite Vence, (janvier 1945)
Henri Matisse, Marguerite Vence, January 1945 Private collection. Credit: Private collection / © Jean-Louis Losi
Though Marguerite married writer Georges Duthuit in 1923 and no longer appeared in her father’s work, she remained his trusted confidante and intermediary.
This 1945 drawing, created after a 20-year absence from his canvases, followed her harrowing experience in the French Resistance. Marguerite had joined the Francs-Tireurs et Partisans in January 1944 and was later arrested and deported—only to be liberated on August 26, 1944, just before crossing into Germany.
Matisse, who was frail and weakened by that point and staying in Vence was oblivious to his daughter’s clandestine activities.  However, after months of silence, they were finally reunited in January 1945. “I identified so greatly with your memories that I was absolutely devastated,” Matisse stated. Along with several lithographs he made a few months later, this drawing marked the last time Marguerite appeared in her father’s oeuvre. More

If you’ve recently visited a biennial or attended an art fair, museum, or gallery show, you’ve probably noticed that textiles are showing up everywhere amid a surge of interest in the medium.
At MoMA, you will find the last stop for an acclaimed show dedicated to the medium that has been touring the U.S. and Canada. “Woven Histories: Textiles and Modern Abstraction,” which recently opened at the New York institution, is a wide-ranging survey of the medium across the 20th and 21st century and includes artists Sonia Delaunay, Paul Klee, and Agnes Martin, as well as more contemporary names like Jeffrey Gibson. The show presents textiles in a myriad of ways, incorporating other mediums like video or photography in some instances.
It has special meaning at the MoMA, too. Curator Lynne Cooke, who installed the show at each of its touring venues, said in a phone interview that, at each location, the show “has changed in ways that reflect the different locations and the amount of space available.” However, at MoMA, the museum’s “own history plays into it because, of course, MoMA is the founding museum of Modernism,” says Cooke. MoMA is where “the histories of Modern art and abstraction, in particular, were first written, and where textiles were collected from the get-go, as one of multiple departments that were non-hierarchally orchestrated.”
Installation view of “Woven Histories: Textiles and Modern Abstraction,” on view at The Museum of Modern Art, New York, from April 20 through September 13, 2025. Photo: Jonathan Dorado
For Cooke, the starting point for the exhibition was more than five years ago, when she says she started noticing “the efflorescence in contemporary art practice that utilized textiles. It was from this contemporary perspective that I started to look back and see these moments of exchange across the 20th century, in which textiles galvanized a re-thinking of Modernism, and particularly abstraction. . . Another way of thinking about it is in relation to our digital world and this need, craving, and appreciation for materiality and hand-making.”
The thoughtful show has been drawing attention and acclaim from many corners of the art world. It represents “a global selection of artists that realize abstraction through a different medium-a woven brushstroke so to speak, among other forms of textiles, instead of paint,” said advisor Naomi Baigell, principal of BFA Fine Art Services. “While not, at the surface, political, there are undercurrents of inequities. The materials, textures, and volumes bring a new breadth to abstraction and artistic expression. A welcomed break from seeing fiber and other materials depicted or adhered to on canvas,” Baigell added.
Here are some of the highlights of this exhibition, with insights from Cooke and Baigell about what makes them fascinating.

Anni Albers, Tapestry (1948)
Anni Albers. Tapestry, (1948). The Museum of Modern Art, New York, Edgar Kaufmann, Jr. Purchase Fund. © 2024 The Josef and Anni Albers Foundation / Artists Rights Society (ARS), New York
“One cannot talk about textiles and their effect on the history of modern art without thinking about Anni Albers,” said Cooke. Albers and her colleagues fled Germany after the closure of the Bauhaus in 1933. Eventually, Albers settled in North Carolina where she taught at Black Mountain College in the 1940s—that is also where she delved into textile and tapestry.
Of the work Tapestry, she told me: “It’s a work made in 1948 at a time when Albers was still designing for mass production and industrial fabrication, but simultaneously had a career in which she was making works of fine art in her estimation.”
Albers called them “pictorial weavings,” said Cooke, adding that they were these very experimental innovative weavings. The artist made them on a hand loom, because that’s where innovation and experimentation took place in textile making for her. Then, the artist stitched them onto a fabric backing and framed them. “They are commensurate with paintings by Sophie Tauber Arp or Paul Klee. She anticipated that they would take their place in galleries of modern art in museums. But they never did at the time. They were seen as textile art and she couldn’t break that glass ceiling. Today we see them differently.”

Gego, Square Reticularea 71/11 (1971)
GEGO (Gertrud Goldschmidt) Square Reticularea 71/11 (1971) The Museum of Modern Art, New York. Gift of Patricia Phelps de Cisneros through the Latin American and Caribbean Fund in honor of Alexis Lowry.
This work is made with small strands of wire, organized in four-way fixtures pieced together to make a net that hangs suspended in front of the wall. “It bends and shifts as what appears to be a very heavy fiber material,” said Cooke.
GEGO, which was the artistic name for Gertrud Goldschmidt, “really dismissed the idea that the work was sculpture. She talked about it as nets and textile-adjacent. What you see here is a way of shaping space, and thinking about defining space and articulating space in three dimensions.”

Sheila Hicks, Peluca verde (Green Wig) (1960-61)
Sheila Hicks, Peluca verde (Green Wig) (1960-61). Photo by Eileen Kinsella
This may have been my favorite work in the show, for the simple reason that this vibrantly colored, green pile of interwined knots and tightly wrapped ropes, stopped me in my tracks and the title is just plain fun. Hicks is a pioneer in textile art. She taught at Universidad Nacional Autónoma de México in Mexico City in the early 1960s. During that time, she immersed herself in the cultural landscape, as she had done on earlier sojourns to Chile and Peru. Her engagement with Latin American textile making is “deeply rooted” as this work reflects. Peluca verde was made by binding together strands of emerald-green wool with brilliantly hued silk thread. The rope became a signature element in her oeuvre.

Lenore Tawney, Vespers (1961)
Lenore Tawney, Vespers (1961) at “Woven Histories: Textiles and Modern Abstraction,” at MoMA. Photo by Eileen Kinsella.
“Leonore Tawney keeps a dialogue between fine art and craft,” said Naomi Baigell, Principal BFA Fine Art Services. Vespers ”hangs majestically, offering variations in color, density, and mood offering the viewer a form more flexible than canvas, commanding its space and our attention,” she added. “Tawney wove beyond tradition, turning fiber into poetry with the vision and courage of a true pioneer,” said Loretta Howard, a founding member of On This Spot NYC.Org, a nonprofit that studies and promotes feminist art history,

Rosemarie Trockel  Passion (2013)
Rosemarie Trockel, Passion (2013) at “Woven History: Textiles and Modern Abstraction,” at MoMA. Photo by Eileen Kinsella
This work, made by securing strands of white yarn across a stretcher, succeeded in making a painting or a painting-adjacent work and it hangs beside an Agnes Martin painting. “Of course for Trockel, Martin has been a mentor and an artist she admired immensely,” notes Cooke. “Trockel’s status as a contemporary artist is unquestioned.” According to the wall text, Trockel was “paying tribute to painter Agnes Martin. . . whom she has long revered.”

Andrea Zittel A-Z Personal Uniform, 2nd Decade: Winter 2007/2008 (2007)
Andrea Zittel, A-Z Personal Uniform, 2nd Decade: Winter 2007/2008 (2007) in “Woven Histories” at the Museum of Modern Art. Photo by Eileen Kinsella
Andrea Zittel’s personal “uniforms” are made and worn for an entire season. The second decade of this project, which started in 2003,  produced clothing that is both attractive and functional, while questioning the connection between freedom and personal liberation with the market demand for constant variety. The Uniform Project proposes that “liberation may be possible through the creation of a set of personal restrictions or limitations,” according to an artist statement.
Cooke points out another poignant fact about textiles which we can apply to Zittel’s piece: “Textiles and cloth, and clothing…are the things closest to our bodies and closest to our histories in a way.”
“Woven Histories” is on view until September 13, 2025. More

The American Civil Liberties Union (ALCU) took a stand for trans rights last weekend, debuting a massive art installation in front of the U.S. Capitol on the National Mall in Washington, D.C. The 9,000-square-foot piece, titled the Freedom to Be Monument, featured 258 six-foot-square quilts made by members of the trans community and their allies across the country.
“This is a monument where joy and resistance are stitched into every thread,” Abdool Corlette, the ALCU’s head of brand and creator of this “Freedom to Be” campaign, told me. “We want the message to be loud and clear:
Trans people have always been here, and we always will be.”
The quilts’ unveiling on Saturday coincided with the start of WorldPride, the international LGBTQ pride event that is holding its ninth edition this year, in D.C. The event, which runs through June 8, marks 50 years of pride celebrations in the nation’s capital.
But it also comes amid an effort by President Donald Trump and conservative lawmakers to roll back trans rights. The ALCU staged the project to help drum up support for the trans community ahead of the forthcoming Supreme Court case United States v. Skrmetti, which will decide if state bans on gender affirming care for minors violate the Fourteenth Amendment’s Equal Protection Clause.
Artists painting quilts for the Freedom to Be Monument. Photo: courtesy of the ACLU.
“This case is not just about gender affirming care. It is about bodily autonomy.
And we can expect to see other attempts to restrict people’s rights,” Corlette said.
”We also believe that the government should not be in the doctor’s office with you when you’re making extremely sensitive personal decisions, whether that’s gender affirming care or reproductive rights.”
Trump has also issued an executive order recognizing only two sexes, and banned use of federal funds to “promote gender ideology.” In a separate executive order looking to control programming at the Smithsonian Institution, he has specifically complained about’s forthcoming American Women’s History Museum featuring the accomplishments of trans women athletes at Smithsonian museums.
The American Civil Liberties Union’s Freedom to Be Monument of quilts celebrating the trans community on display in front of the U.S. Capitol Building in Washington, D.C. Photo: courtesy of the ACLU.
“The idea of being part of something larger and collaborative amongst 250 other trans artists was equally as exciting as [it was] heartbreaking for me!” Courn Ahn, a graphic designer from Portland, Ore., who made one of the quilts, told me. “It’s still an incredibly scary time to be a trans person in this country right now, and any organizing around our community and especially our joy, is incredibly needed.”
The Freedom to Be Monument was conceived of as a way for trans people to visualize a life freed of marginalization and persecution, where the government is not limiting trans rights or trying to prohibit gender expression. It’s meant to celebrate the diversity of the trans community, with 1,000 artists banding together to create the colorful display and a safe space.
People view sections of the Freedom to Be quilt laid out on the grass on the National Mall at the launch of World Pride on May 17, 2025 in Washington, D.C. Photo: by Samuel Corum/Getty Images.
“It feels like every trans community across this country sent a panel to memorialize their story and to make sure that their joy, their resilience, their fight, will not be erased,” Corlette said. “Even as President Trump continues to target trans people and try to erase them from public life, the Freedom to Be campaign is all about resisting that erasure and reclaiming the power for trans people to tell their own stories.”
The project, of course, is building on the legacy of the famed NAMES Project AIDS Memorial Quilt, which debuted on the National Mall in 1987 as a tribute to the LGBTQ community during the height of the AIDS epidemic. The world’s largest piece of community folk art, it has since grown to include 50,000 panels together weighing over 350 tons.
The American Civil Liberties Union’s Freedom to Be Monument of quilts celebrating the trans community on display in front of the U.S. Capitol Building in Washington, D.C. Photo: courtesy of the ACLU.
“I feel that every generation has a personal responsibility to continue the work of the AIDS Memorial Quilt,” Corlette said. “Those pieces of art were there to remember those who have passed, but they were also a celebration of the rich, diverse lives that those folks lived.
That’s the through line that connects to the Freedom to Be project. Folks who are transphobic,
their goal is to remove all of the joy and the beauty in trans lives, and there are moments like this where we have to fight that.”
The new quilt project is small by comparison, but still made a large impact on the mall, spelling out “Freedom to Be” in giant letters for a display about the length of a city block.
“Any kind of advocacy with quilting, I think is incredibly
cool, because historically that’s what it’s been used for as well,” participating artist Theo Randall, a self-taught quilter from Grand Rapids, Mich., told me. “The quilting circles are where women’s rights started up… naturally born out of these activities that are bringing marginalized groups together.”
Courn Ahn’s quilt for the Freedom to Be Monument. Photo: courtesy of the ACLU.
The individual quilts contain messages of love and acceptance, like Ahn’s quilt with the words “Trans Folks Belong Everywhere” surrounded by blue flowers that represent blossoming into one’s identity.
“The use of the word ‘belong’ is especially crucial to me,” they said. “I don’t want to be tolerated anywhere—I want to be celebrated everywhere, to feel part of a larger community without question. I want to belong.”
Theo Randall’s Pride House quilt for the Freedom to Be Monument. Photo: courtesy of the ACLU.
Randall’s contribution to the quilt is based on a quilting pattern called Pride House, featuring a pride flag hanging on a single family home they created in 2021 to sell as a fundraiser for the Grand Rapids Trans Foundation.
They think that acceptance of the trans community can only grow as people actually meet and get to know trans people for themselves.
“Exposure, I think, is really important,” Randall added. “One by one, a person’s mind is changed, and then they can take it back to their communities and be like, ‘hey, you know being trans isn’t so scary.
They’re just people!’” More

Much of our understanding of history comes from written accounts, but it is art and photography (and notably portraits) that really brings these people and events to life. Take the 18th-century English painter Thomas Gainsborough’s sensitive portrayal of Charles Ignatius Sancho, in which the prominent writer, composer and abolitionist appears elegantly dressed and gazes into the distance. To see the work is to get a sense of his presence.
Sancho, who was born on a British slave ship in around 1729, was in his late thirties at the time the painting was made, in approximately 1768. By then, he had been raised in England by three unmarried sisters before briefly working as a butler for the Duchess of Montagu and eventually setting up a grocery shop. In his spare time he wrote books and was a leading voice within the British abolitionist movement. As a property-owner, he became one of the very first Black British people to vote in a general election, in 1774.
The Gainsborough portrait is currently included in “Rise Up: Resistance, Revolution, Abolition” at the Fitzwilliam Museum in Cambridge, England until June 1. The exhibition sets out to uncover the many long-buried histories of individuals and communities who helped bring an end to the transatlantic slave trade. Unlike Sancho, however, most of these figures were never the subject of a grand portrait by one of the leading society painters of their day. In some cases, there is no known visual record at all.
Thomas Gainsborough, Ignatius Sancho (1768). Courtesy of the National Gallery of Canada, Ottawa.
The show’s curators have filled this gap by spotlighting much more recent work by contemporary artists who have sought to redress this imbalance. In doing so, their work brings new attention to some of the revolutionaries and abolitionists that history has overlooked.
Three contemporary portraits included in the show were made by rising star Joy Labinjo in 2022. “I started off feeling sad and annoyed about the fact that these figures weren’t more widely known and that quickly moved to excitement,” the British-Nigerian artist recalled recently. “All of their stories are so rich and magical to the point of sounding fictional at points, I couldn’t wait to share and that gave me so much energy whilst making the works.”
In An 18th-century Family, which was acquired by the Fitzwilliam in 2022, Labinjo depicts the writer and abolitionist Olaudah Equiano with his family. The composition of the group portrait strongly echoes that of Gainsborough’s Portrait of the Artist and his Wife and Daughter (c. 1748), and Labinjo was also able to refer to a miniature portrait of Equiano from his lifetime. Although the original has been lost, the work is known to us via an engraved version that appeared as the frontispiece of Equiano’s 1789 book The Interesting Narrative of the Life of Olaudah Equiano, or Gustavus Vassa, The African.
The book recounts how Equiano, who was born in an Igbo village, was abducted and enslaved as a child and transported to Barbados and the U.S. He bought his freedom in 1766 and, after working as a sailor on British merchant ships, eventually settled in London in the late 1770s. There he befriended leading abolitionists who encouraged him to write a firsthand account of his experiences, most particularly of the Middle Passage. It became a best-seller, was published internationally, and gained many new supporters for the anti-slavery movement.
Joy Labinjo, Phillis Wheatley (2022). Photo: Stuart Whipps. Courtesy of the Artist and Tiwani Contemporary, © Joy Labinjo.
While painting, Labinjo turned to sources like David Olusoga’s Black and British a Forgotten History. “It was important to me that I had an accurate understanding of the lives lived and the historical context of the figures I’d chosen to bring to life,” she said. “I knew that it would be many viewers first introduction to the figures so I wanted to be sure I was sharing accurate information.”
Another important figure that the artist has portrayed is the poet Phillis Wheatley, who was born in West Africa, kidnapped as a child, sold into slavery, and transported to Boston. After being purchased by the relatively progressive wealthy merchant John Wheatley, she was taught to read and write by his children and, after traveling to London in 1773, published her Poems on Various Subjects, Religious and Moral. She soon found fame and her work was read and praised by prominent figures like George Washington, who invited her to meet him. Sadly, after being manumitted by the Wheatleys, many of whom died just a few years later, Phillis fell into poverty and died of pneumonia at the age of 31.
Again, Labinjo was able to model her painting on a portrait of the author that was used as the frontispiece of Poems, in which Wheatley appears pen in hand and lost in contemplation. It is believed to be by the enslaved artist Scipio Moorhead, who was also from Boston.
François Cauvin, Toussaint Louverture (2009). Photo: © François Cauvin.
The Haitian-born, Montreal-based artist François Cauvin has created several imagined portraits of Haitian revolutionaries of whom there is no surviving visual record. These figures helped establish Haiti as the first independent Caribbean state in 1804. One woman rebel depicted by Cauvin is Sanité Bélair (2023), who appears standing proud in her lieutenant’s uniform like the “ferocious woman” she was once derogatorily described as. Her image has also appeared on Haitian banknotes and, in 2023, was featured in an exhibition in Paris dedicated to lesser-known historical figures who contributed to the abolition of slavery.
One of Cauvin’s most famous portraits on view at the Fitzwilliam is a 2009 painting of Toussaint Louverture, one of the military leaders who helped overthrow French rule. It aims to present the international statesman with a dignity he was not granted in earlier portraits, most particularly a 1832 lithograph by Nicolas Maurin, which as been described as a racist caricature. In Cauvin’s reworking of the image, Louverture’s large cockade hat has been replaced with a guinea fowl, birds which are seen as symbols of resistance in Haiti. After the non-native animal was introduced by colonizers to Saint-Dominque, it ran away and refused to be kept captive.
Joscelyn Gardner, Aristolochia bilobala (Nimine) (2010). Photo: Fitzwilliam Museum, University of Cambridge. Courtesy of the artist.
Based between Barbados and Canada, the artist Joscelyn Gardner made a series of hand-colored lithographs, the Creole Portraits III: “bringing down the flowers…” (2010–11), as a tribute to the many enslaved women whose names and faces remain absent from history. The anonymous heads are seen from behind, evoking a presence but prompting the viewer to use their own imaginations to fill in the gaps. Beneath the carefully braided hairstyles in each image is a hanging wildflower native to the Caribbean, after which the drawing is named.
These colorful plants were sometimes used by enslaved women as natural abortifacients, an act of resistance against unwanted pregnancies and exploitation. They are contrasted against chains and collars, representing the brutal forms of punishment used against these women if they were found out.
“Rise Up: Resistance, Revolution, Abolition” is on view through June 1 at the Fitzwilliam Museum in Cambridge, England. More

Impressionism started out 151 years ago out as a rebellious movement, derided by critics, but it’s box office gold these days, and museums worldwide celebrated its sesquicentennial with major exhibitions last year. Another big draw for museums? Shows that spotlight artistic friendships and rivalries, not only displaying artists’ great works but also revealing their humanity, and sometimes their foibles: the Metropolitan Museum of Art in New York had a blockbuster with its “Manet/Degas” exhibition in 2023, for example.
Now, the Fine Arts Museums of San Francisco will surely have a hit on its hands with “Manet and Morisot,” which it is billing as the first major museum show devoted to the artistic exchange between the French Impressionist painters Édouard Manet and Berthe Morisot. The museum describes their relationship as the closest between any two artists in the Impressionist circle, and the exhibition traces their relationship from 1868 to 1883.
Berthe Morisot, Reading (1873). Courtesy Cleveland Museum of Art.
While their link is well known owing to Manet’s portraits of his younger colleague, the show takes the position that scholars have too often focused on her as a muse and a model, rather than an esteemed peer—and even an influence on the elder artist. Pairings and groupings of works by the two artists promise to reveal their impact on each other. 
Édouard Manet, Berthe Morisot with a Bouquet of Violets (1872). Courtesy Musée d’Orsay, © RMN-Grand Palais / Art Resource, NY.
“The friendship between these two great artists—collaborative and competitive, playful and charged—really did have a determining effect on the course of art history,” said the show’s curator, Emily A. Beeny, chief curator of the Legion of Honor and curator in charge of European paintings, in a statement. “Its story is written in their pictures. Considering them side by side, we watch it all unfold: their shared interests and struggles, their mutual influence and understanding.”
After opening October 11 at the Legion of Honor, the show will travel to the Cleveland Museum of Art next year. Lenders include major institutions like the National Gallery of Art in Washington, D.C.; the Musée d’Orsay in Paris; the J. Paul Getty Museum in Los Angeles; and the Cleveland Museum of Art in Ohio.
It all started when Morisot was copying masterworks at the Louvre in Paris in 1868, and a mutual friend, the painter Henri Fantin-Latour, introduced her to Manet, nine years her senior. He had achieved immense notoriety for his painting Le Déjeuner sur l’herbe (1863–64); she was just 27 and still a student.
Édouard Manet, The Balcony (1868-69). Courtesy Musée d’Orsay © RMN-Grand Palais / Art Resource, NY.
She began posing that fall for his painting The Balcony (1868–69), and would sit for at least 10 more canvases over the next five years. This gave her many hours in the master’s studio, “observing his methods and exchanging ideas,” according to press materials. Manet would soon dub one of her paintings a masterpiece; he kept three of her works in his bedroom; and he even gave her the gift of an easel one Christmas. Their friendship and correspondence were so intense that there has been speculation that they were lovers.
Their relationship would become yet closer when Morisot became engaged in January 1874 to Manet’s brother Eugène, also a painter. But she would choose not to follow Manet’s advice later that year, when he counseled her against renouncing the Paris Salon, the exhibition that served as the bastion of the traditional art establishment, and exhibiting with the upstart Impressionist group. She went on to show her work in all but one of its eight group exhibitions, making her one of the most dedicated members. 
The show will start with The Balcony and other Manet paintings of Morisot. It will trace her growing influence on Manet in the early 1870s, exploring a series of motifs and compositions that the artists shared during that decade. In the 1880s, Morisot’s style became bolder and more sketchy, and Manet shifted his subjects decisively toward depictions of elegant women, which was already something of a trademark of Morisot’s. 
Édouard Manet, Boating (1874/1879). Courtesy Metropolitan Museum of Art, New York.
For an example of Manet’s influence on Morisot, consider his Boating (1874/1879), from the collection of New York’s Metropolitan Museum of Art, which shows a man and a woman in a small craft, positioned as though the viewer could climb in with them… 
Berthe Morisot, Summer’s Day (ca. 1879). Courtesy National Gallery, London.
…and then take a look at Morisot’s Summer’s Day (ca. 1879), from the National Gallery in London, which shows two women, similarly positioned, as if the viewer were seated in the boat. 
Berthe Morisot, Woman at Her Toilette (1875–1880). Courtesy Art Institute of Chicago.
There’s also Morisot’s Woman at her Toilette (1875–80), from the Art Institute of Chicago, in which a bare-shouldered woman is painted from behind, and Manet’s slightly later Before the Mirror (Devant la glace), from 1877, on loan from New York’s Guggenheim Museum, identical in subject and similarly showing a partially dressed woman from the back. 
Édouard Manet, Before the Mirror (Devant la glace) (1877). Courtesy of the Solomon R. Guggenheim Foundation / Art Resource, NY.
The exhibition even continues to trace their relationship after Manet’s death in 1883, since she owned a selection of works by her brother-in-law that continued to influence her.
After Morisot died in 1895, her reputation declined, but feminist art historians shed new light on her work starting five decades ago; she was mentioned, for example, in Linda Nochlin’s epochal essay “Why Have There Been No Great Women Artists?”, published in ARTnews in 1971. Artists were also early adopters: Miriam Schapiro created a work in tribute to Morisot as early as 1976. She has since then been thoroughly canonized, and was the subject of a major touring exhibition starting in 2018, co-organized by the Barnes Foundation in Philadelphia, Pennsylvania; the Dallas Museum of Art, the Musées d’Orsay et de l’Orangerie in Paris, and the Musée national des beaux-arts du Québec.
“Manet and Morisot” will be on view at the Legion of Honor, Lincoln Park, 100 34th Avenue at Clement Street, San Francisco, October 11, 2025–March 1, 2026. It will then travel to the Cleveland Museum of Art, 11150 East Blvd, March 29–July 5, 2026. More

When feminist art collective Hilma’s Ghost inaugurated Abstract Futures, their stunning 600-square-foot mosaic mural at the 42nd Street entrance to the 7 train in Manhattan’s Grand Central Station, they did so with a ritual, chanting whispers into the colorful glass artwork.
“There must be magic in that,” said Dannielle Tegeder, “that the MTA should support witchcraft,” Sharmistha Ray added, completing the thought. They told me their dedication of the space had been meant to open up the portals in each panel: “Please, when you go there, whisper into the wall to continue charging it.”
The two artists who make up the collective began working together during lockdown, channeling the once-obscure spiritual painter Hilma af Klint to create their own works responding to the Swedish artist’s pioneering abstractions. If painting is dead—as first announced by painter Paul Delaroche upon his first time seeing photography in 1840—Hilma’s Ghost looks to reanimate its very soul, breathing new life into contemporary art with a mystical feminine energy.
The duo made their debut at New York’s Armory Show in 2021. There, they enlisted art witch and psychic medium Sarah Potter to do readings using their limited edition tarot deck, Abstract Futures Tarot, while selling the 78 paintings on which it was based.
Hilma’s Ghost artists Dannielle Tegeder and Sharmistha Ray with their new mosaic installation at 42nd Street MTA 7 Line entrance. Photo: courtesy of the artists.
Their big MTA unveiling came during Frieze Week, and I saw Tegeder and Ray later that night, at a feminist dinner they hosted with artist Eve Biddle, who also runs the Upstate New York artist nonprofit Wassaic Project.
The three women have been collaborating on dinner parties infused with magic and spirituality, as well as hosting a mystical after-hours event at New York’s Solomon R. Guggenheim Museum earlier this year celebrating the “Harmony and Dissonance, Orphism in Paris, 1910–1930” show. (It was the Guggenheim’s 2018–19 af Klint blockbuster that first inspired Hilma’s Ghost to work together.)
Hilma’s Ghost, Abstract Futures at 42nd Street MTA 7 Line entrance. Photo: by Etienne Frossard, courtesy of MTA Arts and Design.
The “Cleopatra’s Pearl” dinner series takes its name from the legend of Egyptian queen dissolving and drinking a valuable pearl as a show of her wealth.
Last week’s gathering was held in Biddle’s childhood home in the East Village, which was also the studio of her late mother, feminist artist Mary Ann Unger (currently the subject of a solo show at New York’s Berry Campbell Gallery).
Hilma’s Ghost, Abstract Futures at 42nd Street MTA 7 Line entrance. Photo: by Etienne Frossard, courtesy of MTA Arts and Design.
The hosts assigned each guest the role of a notable woman from history, with place cards providing their biographical details. Tegeder and Ray cast a circle to welcome in the spirit of these foremothers, from the goddess Hecate to artists including af Klint, Unger, and Pamela Colman Smith, the original creator of the tarot deck.
Biddle did all the cooking, as well as making the ceramic plates and candle holders, one for each diner, for practicing candle magic. If you’re not familiar with candle magic, it can be as simple as making a wish when you blow out the candles on your birthday cake. This is the kind of forgotten feminine tradition rooted in pre-Christian goddess worship that Hilma’s Ghost hopes to renew with their paintings and their new subway artwork.
Hilma’s Ghost, Abstract Futures at 42nd Street MTA 7 Line entrance. Photo: by Etienne Frossard, courtesy of MTA Arts and Design.
MTA Arts and Design commissioned Hilma’s Ghost to create a mural for the subway two years ago. Their design, fabricated by Miotto Mosaic Art Studios, draws on symbolism from tarot cards, translated into abstract geometric forms, with diamonds, stripes, concentric circles, and radiating beams all arranged in orderly, symmetrical fashion. The colors are rich and vibrant, shades of green, purple, red, yellow, and blue flecked with shimmering gold.
“It’s essentially telling the story of the major archetype of the tarot. It’s all color magic and sacred geometries to tell the story of the heroine’s journey,” Ray told me.
Hilma’s Ghost, Abstract Futures at 42nd Street MTA 7 Line entrance. Photo: by Etienne Frossard, courtesy of MTA Arts and Design.
The artists first saw the work installed on Easter Sunday—fitting, given their interest in rebirth. They hope their piece speaks to New York as a place where growth is perpetual, new visitors constantly arriving and helping make the city their own.
The unveiling coincides with Hilma’s Ghost first solo show in Mexico, at Galería RGR in Mexico City. They’ve built a feminist altar in the gallery, highlighting the way in which their painting draws on the power of women creatives, such as af Klint, throughout history. But they are especially excited to have a permanent public art piece out the world, where anyone can see it, experiencing a little bit of beauty—and witchy spiritualism—on their daily commute.
Hilma’s Ghost art installation at 42nd Street MTA 7 Line entrance. Photo: by Etienne Frossard, courtesy of MTA Arts and Design.
“We love having work in museums and galleries, but this is something else,” Ray added. “In this time where everything seems so devastating, I just feel a little bit of hope in this moment.”
“La hora de la estrella: Hilma’s Ghost” is on view at Galería RGR, Gral. Antonio León 48, Colonia San Miguel Chapultepec, Mexico City, Mexico, April 12–May 31, 2025. More

The nonagenarian fiber artist Olga de Amaral is having a moment. Not just a present career high, but one in which her place and contributions to the history of art itself are being codified. Now, following its 2024 debut at the Fondation Cartier pour l’art contemporain, Paris, a major retrospective at the Institute of Contemporary Art, Miami, offers stateside audiences a rare opportunity to encounter the work of this defining—yet underappreciated—figure in contemporary art history.
The canon of contemporary textile art is still very much being wrought. While the medium certainly is not new (on the contrary, it is one of the oldest in human existence), understandings of it as a tradition of fine art, rather than simply craft, are comparatively in their nascency.
Amaral has been the common thread throughout the recent spate of museum exhibitions reassessing textile art’s place within the history and trajectory of art itself—from “Weaving Abstraction in Ancient and Modern Art” at the Metropolitan Museum of Art or “Woven Histories: Textiles and Modern Abstraction” at the Museum of Modern Art, to “Subversive, Skilled, Sublime: Fiber Art by Women” at the Smithsonian American Art Museum.
Installation view of “Olga de Amaral” (2025) at the Institute of Contemporary Art, Miami, presented with the Fondation Cartier pour l’art contemporain. Artwork: © Olga de Amaral. Photo: © Kris Tamburello.
The crowning jewel of Amaral’s recent exhibition achievements is the ICA Miami retrospective. Following the success of “Olga de Amaral” at the Fondation Cartier, a new iteration of the show has been tailored to the ICA Miami’s building, and features work dating from across the full breadth of the artist’s career. On view through October 12, 2025, the show is a testament not only to Amaral’s career to date, but the promised significance of her work moving into the future too.
Amaral’s work feels both ancient and futuristic, at once unmistakably Colombian and universally transcendent. In their golden shimmer and woven density, these pieces hold space for memory, ritual, and wonder—anchors to the earth that somehow seem to float.
Olga de Amaral, Casa Amaral, Bogotá, Colombia (2024). Photo: Juan Daniel Caro.
Who is Olga de Amaral?
Born in 1932 in Bogotá, Colombia, as Olga Ceballos Velez, Olga de Amaral received a degree in architectural design from the Colegio Mayor de Cundinamarca, where she attended in the early 1950s. Between 1954 and 1955 she studied fiber art at the historic Cranbrook Academy of Art in Bloomfield Hills, Michigan. It was here she first met Jim Amaral, fellow artist and her future husband.
After a year of study in Michigan, Amaral returned to Bogotá where she began her independent artistic practice, creating both decorative pieces as well as undertaking design commissions. Jim visited in 1956, and they were wed in 1957, both remaining in Bogotá and establishing a textile workshop.
In 1965, Amaral established and directed the Textile Department at the University of Los Andes, Bogotá, where she remained at the helm until 1972. In the year following, she was awarded a Guggenheim Fellowship.
Over the course of her career, she has been the subject of dozens of gallery and museum solo shows, and her practice has remained ever evolving and endlessly experimental; no two works or series adhere to a singular technical or conceptual approach but rather reflect an ongoing effort to push the boundaries of what the medium is capable of.
Installation view of Olga de Amaral, “Estelas” (1996–2018) at the Institute of Contemporary Art, Miami, presented with the Fondation Cartier pour l’art contemporain. Artwork: © Olga de Amaral. Photo: © Kris Tamburello.
An exhibition experiment
The experimentalism inherent in Olga de Amaral’s practice is reflected and interrogated throughout her ICA Miami retrospective. Marie Perennès curated the Paris iteration, and returns for the Miami installment, teaming up with the museum’s Stephanie Seidel. Like the previous iteration at the Fondation Cartier, the show was designed by award-winning Paris-based architect Lina Ghotmeh.
Envisioning a metaphoric forest, each of Amaral’s works hang free from the walls of the gallery space, not only allowing visitors to fully circumvent each piece but necessitating it. The result is a physical act of discovery, wherein one work leads to the next, and the verso of each work becomes as much a highlight as the recto.
Installation view of “Olga de Amaral” (2025) at the Institute of Contemporary Art, Miami, presented with the Fondation Cartier pour l’art contemporain. Artwork: © Olga de Amaral. Photo: © Kris Tamburello.
Carrying the forest metaphor are a series of custom benches and stools that are mirrored, which from a distance appear almost as small pools of light. Close up, they offer ever-changing reflections of the works hanging in their vicinity.
Hung largely at an angle throughout the museum’s third floor space, a wall of windows looks out over a small forest’s canopy. Like in Paris, the natural landscape viewable from within the exhibition played an important part in the development of the show’s design and parallels Amaral’s own practice of taking inspiration from nature.
Installation view of Olga de Amaral, “Brumas” (2013-2018) at the Institute of Contemporary Art, Miami, presented with the Fondation Cartier pour l’art contemporain. Artwork: © Olga de Amaral. Photo: © Kris Tamburello.
The show is curatorially anchored by two multi-part, large-scale series: the “Brumas” (2013–2018), with individual pieces comprised of hanging linen threads that have been colored with acrylic pigment, and the “Estelas” (1996–2018), idiosyncratically shaped flat works nearly entirely enrobed in gold leaf. Each speaks to the way Amaral explores the third dimension.
In “Brumas,” the works seem to defy rules of opticality and space, with geometric forms hazily being revealed through slow circumvention of the piece. In contrast, the hanging “Estela” works challenge perception, more specifically, perceptions of weight. Covered in gold and in rough-hewn shapes, they appear almost as monumental totems, evoking pre-Hispanic archeological finds. Unravelling this assessment is their delicate hanging, seemingly hovering off the ground, bestowing a sense of weightlessness.
Installation view of “Olga de Amaral” (2025) at the Institute of Contemporary Art, Miami, presented with the Fondation Cartier pour l’art contemporain. Artwork: © Olga de Amaral. Photo: © Kris Tamburello.
Marking the Art Historical Moment
Constantly experimenting with materials, space, construction, and composition, Amaral has crafted a multi-decade oeuvre that not only parallels but defines fiber and textile art making of the latter half of the 20th century and beginning of the 21st. It stands apart from her contemporaries in its diversity and reach, in no small part due to her efforts teaching and engaging with subsequent generations of artists.
Beginning her career at the height of Mid-Century Modern popularity, and in the shadow of Bauhaus Modernism and Constructivism, Amaral emerged with her own unique visual, sculptural language informed by the prevailing movements of the time while remaining distinctive.
Installation view of “Olga de Amaral” (2025) at the Institute of Contemporary Art, Miami, presented with the Fondation Cartier pour l’art contemporain. Artwork: © Olga de Amaral. Photo: © Kris Tamburello.
Incorporating everything from pre-Columbian and Indigenous weaving and craft traditions to straightforward knotting and braiding, as well as employing a diverse range of materials—such as wool, horsehair, linen, paint, cotton, gesso, gold leaf, and palladium—Amaral’s oeuvre evidences the singularity of her creative vision. It is no surprise that her work is consistently featured at the forefront of dialogues and exhibitions around the reappraisal of fiber and textile art as she was one of the first artists to approach it as the foundation of her practice, rather than auxiliary craft like some her contemporaries. As far as the art historical canon goes, the Fondation Cartier and ICA Miami make a convincing case that Amaral is the benchmark of the medium and will remain a key touchpoint for the practice well into the future.
More than a retrospective, this exhibition is a long-overdue recognition. Olga de Amaral hasn’t just contributed to the story of textile art—she’s helped write its most vital chapters.
Text by Annikka Olsen More

Italian artist and Arte Povera pioneer Michelangelo Pistoletto will stage new work at the Great Pyramids of Giza.
The 91-year-old artist has been announced as a headliner leading this year’s “Forever Is Now,” the annual outdoor exhibition that invites artists to create site-specific work using the ancient wonder of the world as a dramatic backdrop.
While full details of Pistoletto’s work are yet to be released, it has been described as a monumental installation that will bring together elements of ancient civilization with modern ideas by Art D’Egypte, the organization that stages “Forever is Now.”
“Having Michelangelo Pistoletto join Forever Is Now is a historic moment for Egypt and for global contemporary art,” Art D’Égypte’s founder Nadine Abdel Ghaffar said in a statement. “Bringing his voice to the Pyramids is not just symbolic, it’s visionary.”
JR, Greetings From Giza (2021). Courtesy of the artist and Forever Is Now. Photo: MO4NETWORK.
For decades, Pistoletto has incorporated social impact into his practice, a point emphasized by his Citadellearte foundation, which over the past 25 years has instructed professionals on the ways in which art can positively affect society. True to form, Citadellearte is involved in Pistoletto’s project at the pyramids. Artists living in Egypt are invited to apply for a fully-funded three-year bachelor course at the organization’s Unidee Academy in Biella, Pistoletto’s hometown in northern Italy, an initiative backed by the Italian Institute of Culture in Cairo and the foundation itself.
“Cittadellarte aims at making art as a bridge between peoples, across cultures and geographies,” Paolo Naldini, the director of Citadellearte, said in a statement. “I take the invitation from Art d’Egypte and the collaboration with Italian Institute of Culture as an opportunity to build a bridge across the Mediterranean Sea that connects Venice and Cairo.”
Born in 1933, Pistoletto began to receive international attention in the 1960s with his mirror paintings, which disrupted traditions of artistic perspective by integrating viewers into the artwork. Along with the likes of Giovanni Anselmo and Jannis Kounellis, Pistoletto was a protagonist in Arte Povera, a post-war movement that employed everyday materials to challenge the commercialization of the art world.
In 2003, Pistoletto penned Third Paradise, a manifesto that called for a balance between nature and artifice capable of leading to a “realistic utopia.” Its mark, an infinity symbol with three loops, has appeared across his work. Third Paradise is developed and championed by Citadellearte, which is set to hold an installation on the concept at the coming Venice Biennale.
Italian artist Lorenzo Quinn poses under his installation, entitled Together. Photo: courtesy Ammar Abd Rabbo/Art D’Egypte.
On the back of this work, Pistoletto was nominated for a Nobel Peace Prize in February of this year. The artist noted that the nomination carried a commitment to carry on his socially engaged work. “Art must take on a propulsive role for radical change, bringing about a shared, responsible concept of humanity.”
This year marks the fifth successive edition of “Forever Is Now”, which typically takes place in October and November. Previous highlights include photographer JR’s pyramid-shaped photo booth, Lorenzo Quinn’s giant pair of hands that broke out of the desert to touch one another, and Gisela Colón’s 30-foot-long bean of titanium that resembled a rising sun. More