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    The Cheapo Beer Brand Natural Light Says Its New Marketing Stunt Is the Most Expensive Artwork of All Time

    What’s the most ludicrous art-world marketing campaign of all time? Is it Maurizio Cattelan’s $120,000 banana, duct-taped to a wall at Art Basel Miami Beach? Is it the sale of Salvator Mundi, the portrait of Jesus supposedly by Leonardo da Vinci that sold for an absurd $450.3 million at Christie’s in late 2017?
    Or is it the one unveiled today at Grand Central Terminal in New York?
    That campaign, titled Da Vinci of Debt, is made up of a suspended mass of 2,600 authentic college diplomas provided by real college graduates across the US.
    Confused? The idea is that, with the cost of an average four-year college education at about $180,000, the cumulative value of the diploma display rings in at near $470 million, surpassing the cost of the record-shattering Salvator Mundi.
    Even more surprising is the force behind the show: Natural Light, the cheap and popular beer brand affectionately dubbed “Natty Light” by its fans—mainly college students drawn to its lower calorie count and, most importantly, its lower price point.

    Natty Light’s “art installation.” Courtesy of Natural Light.

    The brand is now in the fourth year of a 10-year, $10 million commitment to distribute $1 million annually to students and graduates “who are weighed down by the burden of debt,” said Daniel Blake, vice president of value brands at Anheuser-Busch, which owns Natural Light.
    Those interested in getting some of that money must tell their story for why they attended college by March 21. Forty winners will each receive $25,000.
    “College debt is one of the most important social issues in the country today,” Blake said in a phone interview with Artnet News. “More than 45 million Americans have college debt. The total debt amount is more than $1.7 trillion and is continuing to grow. We felt strongly about putting a stake in the ground and supporting those people who really need it.”
    So why call the project an artwork?
    “The art world is filled with absurd price tags that most people find impossible to justify,” Blake said. “That’s what made it the perfect medium for this campaign.”
    The diplomas are suspended in mid-air “as if a gale of wind had just scattered all 2,600 of them throughout the cavernous, 6,000-square-foot space,” according to a press release.

    Natty Light’s “art installation.” Courtesy of Natural Light. . Courtesy of Natural Light.

    The installation is meant to stress the enormous scale of student debt, and the chaos it creates for those saddled with it.
    Blake told Artnet News that the brand was surprised at the eager response they got from graduates who sent in their diplomas—especially considering the company never told them how the certificates would be used. (Students received $100 in exchange for “renting” their diplomas.)
    As part of the stunt, Natural Light said in a release that it is “calling on the deep pockets of the fine-art world” to considering bidding “on the historic artwork.”
    So is it for sale? And what about those students who temporarily leased their diplomas and are expecting them back?
    “If it means giving more people the opportunity to enjoy the college experience without the debt that follows, we’re all ears,” Blake said.
    “Natty is dedicated to doing everything we can to provide real solutions to college debt, and if there is a serious bidder, you know where to find us. If there is a bidder willing to pay $470 million for the piece, we’ll consult with every participant who loaned their diploma to us to see if they would be open to selling this piece.”
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    ‘Right Now, I’m Just Asking Questions’: Photographer Daniel Gordon on How to Stay Inspired After Decades in the Studio

    Like many artists, the Brooklyn-based photographer Daniel Gordon sometimes has trouble keeping things interesting. You’d think he would have a wealth of source material since his work involves a maximalist combination of collage, photography, and sculpture—but hey, he’s only human.
    In an exclusive interview aired as part of Art21’s “New York Close Up” series back in 2016, Gordon reminisced about how his approach had changed since his early days as an artist.
    “Back then, I was trying to figure out what my voice was,” he says. “I really was trying to mimic reality.” Now, however, mimesis “is something that I have become less and less interested in.”
    The artist, whose work looks like a cross between Matisse and Jonas Wood, builds two- and three-dimensional props from source material he finds on the internet. He photographs these tableaux—surreal still lifes populated by fish, colorful plants, and gaudy patterns—to make his lively images.
    At the beginning, Gordon notes, he was trying to hide the hand-crafted aspect of his work. Now, he welcomes those cracks in the facade of perfection. 

    Production still from the Art21 “New York Close Up” film, “Daniel Gordon Looks Back.” © Art21, Inc. 2016.

    Like the generation from which he hails, Gordon’s work straddles two worlds: one is rooted firmly in the analog, the other fully invested in digital technologies. He describes his focus as on the “in-between things” that question the boundaries between photography, painting, and sculpture.
    A new book published by Aperture—a work of art in itself—delightfully spans these mediums, featuring pop-ups of Gordon’s images. If a rut forces him to rethink his approach, he’s open to change—but “right now,” he says, “I’m just asking the questions.”

    Watch the video, which originally appeared as part of Art21’s series New York Close Up, below. The brand new 10th season of the show is available now at Art21.org. 
    [embedded content]
    This is an installment of “Art on Video,” a collaboration between Artnet News and Art21 that brings you clips of newsmaking artists. A new series of the nonprofit Art21’s flagship series Art in the Twenty-First Century is available now on PBS. Catch all episodes of other series like New York Close Up and Extended Play and learn about the organization’s educational programs at Art21.org
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    The Uffizi Will Show Rarely Seen Sketches From Dante’s ‘Divine Comedy’ to Commemorate the 700th Anniversary of the Poet’s Death

    This year is the 700th since Dante Alighieri died, in 1321, and over the next year, venues across his native Italy have special events planned in commemoration of the anniversary.
    For its part, the Uffizi Gallery in Florence didn’t waste any time honoring the medieval poet. On New Year’s Day, the museum launched a free virtual exhibition of rarely-seen drawings inspired by The Divine Comedy, Dante’s three-part, first-person odyssey through heaven, hell, and purgatory, long considered one of the most important literary works of all time.
    The 88 illustrations on view now on the museum’s website were completed between 1586 and 1588 by Renaissance artist Federico Zuccari during a stay in Spain. The show marks just the third time a selection of the sketches have been seen publicly, and the first time the collection has been presented in totality.
    Federico Zuccari, Inferno, Canti XXXII-XXXIV. Courtesy of the Uffizi Gallery.

    “The Uffizi Gallery is really proud to open the anniversary of the great poet’s death by making this extraordinary collection of graphic art available to all,” Eike Schmidt, director of the Uffizi, said in a statement. He described the drawings as “precious material not only for those who do research but also for those who are passionate about Dante’s work and are interested in following, as Alighieri says, ‘virtue and knowledge.’”
    Originally collated in a bound volume, each pencil-and-ink sketch appeared opposite the verse it illustrated. Zuccari’s works are accompanied online by their original captions in Italian. (English translations are forthcoming, the site explains.)
    An accomplished mannerist painter in his time, Zuccari is today best known for his frescoes on the Dome of Santa Maria del Fiore in Florence. Following his death in 1609, the Divine Comedy drawings were owned by the Orsinis, a noble family for which the artist once worked, and then the Medicis. They were acquired by the Uffizi in 1738.
    Federico Zuccari, Inferno, Canti XXVI-XXVIII. Courtesy of the Uffizi Gallery.

    The 600th anniversary of Dante’s birth was the occasion the first time a selection of the illustrations were shown in Florence in 1865. More than a century later, in 1993, they were exhibited again in an exhibition in Abruzzo. Fragile with age, the drawings can only be removed from their light-free, thermoregulated holdings every five years, the museum explained. Until now, many of them “have only been seen by a few scholars,” Schmidt said.
    Events planned in memory of Dante will be mounted in more than 70 towns and villages throughout Italy this year. Italian President Sergio Mattarella inaugurated the year-long national celebration this past September with a concert in the city of Ravenna, where Dante is buried.
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    ‘It Felt Really Wild and Safe at the Same Time’: Watch Artist Ann Hamilton Swing Visitors Through the Air in a Participatory Installation

    In 2012, artist Ann Hamilton took over the Park Avenue Armory in Manhattan with an exhibition titled “the event of a thread,” encompassing the entire drill hall for one month. The title of the show is a nod to Anni Albers, whose description of weaving—”a horizontal and vertical crossing of a thread, which is touch and contact at intersection”—Hamilton makes interactive.
    In an exclusive interview with Art21 as part of the Extended Play series, Hamilton describes her adaptation of Albers’s definition: “The cloth is raising and lowering with the swings. Everyone’s presence registers in some way in the materials of it. And that, in turn, makes its weaving.” 

    Production still from the Art21 “Extended Play” film, “Ann Hamilton: the event of a thread.” © Art21, Inc. 2013.

    The swings, which were suspended in the drill hall against a backdrop of billowing white fabric, were invitations to activate the space, though Hamilton says at first she was worried no one would actually use them. Eventually, though, kids couldn’t resist. “There was a family in here yesterday for three hours,” she says, “so it’s become sort of like a park.”
    Watching the visitors interact with the space, Hamilton was surprised to find another intersection of the horizontal and vertical, when she realized that as some people stood beneath the fabric drapes, others laid flat on their backs, staring up at the pulleys and ropes. “There was a girl who said that she felt really, really wild and safe at the same time,” Hamilton shares with Art21. “When I heard that, it’s like, ‘Yes! That is great.’”
    Watch the video, which originally appeared as part of Art21’s series Extended Play, below. The brand new 10th season of the show is available now at Art21.org. 
    [embedded content]
    This is an installment of “Art on Video,” a collaboration between Artnet News and Art21 that brings you clips of newsmaking artists. A new series of the nonprofit Art21’s flagship series Art in the Twenty-First Century is available now on PBS. Catch all episodes of other series like New York Close Up and Extended Play and learn about the organization’s educational programs at Art21.org.
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    ‘We’re Burdened by So Many Things’: Watch Artist Mary Mattingly Literally Drag Everything She Owns Around New York

    The holiday season is typically a time for loved ones to get together. But thanks to capitalism, even more than that, it’s a time to consume. Spend money, give gifts, recieve gifts, repeat.
    This holiday season, though, while things are at least a little bit different for nearly everyone, it’s worth turning to photographer Mary Mattingly, who makes a pretty good case against the consumer frenzy.
    In an exclusive interview with Art21 as part of the New York Close Up series from 2013, Mattingly takes viewers on an uphill climb (literally) as she carries out the Sisyphean task of dragging her belongings throughout New York.
    The act is part of a project Mattingly embarked on over the course of several months, during which she painstakingly documented every object in her possession, traced its origins to manufacturing plants and supply chains, and recorded her findings on a website she created, own-it.us.

    Production still from the Art21 “New York Close Up” film, “Mary Mattingly Owns Up.” © Art21, Inc. 2013.

    “I want to try to picture this future without mass production,” she tells Art21. “And it’s harder and harder to do all the time.”
    After taking stock of everything, Mattingly combined the objects into giant boulder-like masses secured with ropes and string, and dragged and pushed them around the city.
    “Seeing your objects one at a time doesn’t have the same impact as putting them all together,” Mattingly says. “We’re just burdened with so many things. I just wanted to do something with clarity about what literally weighs me down. It also ended up being incredibly hard to push!”
    Watch the video, which originally appeared as part of Art21’s series New York Close Up, below. The brand new 10th season of the show is available now at Art21.org. “Mary Mattingly: Pipelines and Permafrost” is on view at Robert Mann Gallery through December 31, 2020. 
    [embedded content]
    This is an installment of “Art on Video,” a collaboration between Artnet News and Art21 that brings you clips of newsmaking artists. A new series of the nonprofit Art21’s flagship series Art in the Twenty-First Century is available now on PBS. Catch all episodes of other series like New York Close Up and Extended Play and learn about the organization’s educational programs at Art21.org.
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    How Augmented Reality Can Revolutionize the Art World: A Conversation Between UCCA Director Philip Tinari and Daniel Birnbaum

    The world came to a halt. People stopped traveling. But art didn’t stand still. Weightless works using augmented reality by artists including Nina Chanel Abney, Darren Bader, Olafur Eliasson, Cao Fei, KAWS, and Alicja Kwade traveled from London to Beijing, erecting a creative bridge between continents. They appear in the exhibition “Mirage” at the UCCA Center for Contemporary Art: the largest-ever institutional show of AR art, which includes a number of newly commissioned works.
    Will new immersive technologies like these change the global art world? Philip Tinari, the director of the UCCA Center for Contemporary Art, and Daniel Birnbaum, the director of AR art platform Acute Art, connected to discuss the joint exhibition, the future of the museum, and how to make the art industry less wasteful.
    Philip Tinari. Photo courtesy of the UCCA; Daniel Birnbaum. Photo: John Scarisbrick.

    Daniel Birnbaum: Sitting in my kitchen in London thinking about our collaboration, I remember an old book on Kraftwerk, the German techno pioneers, that opens with a dream sequence. Founding members Ralf Hütter and Florian Schneider are cycling in the Alps. They stop on a mountain pass and take out the tiny computers that they always carry with them. With a special code, they launch simultaneous concerts in London, Madrid, Paris, Berlin, Moscow, Amsterdam, Rome, and Stockholm. In each of these cities, a group of pre-programmed robots perform Kraftwerk’s music. 
    This is no longer a futuristic vision. We all carry miniature computers in our pockets and have access to innumerable globally distributed cultural events. Today, we don’t need any pre-programmed mannequins. Augmented reality is so much easier. 
    What do you think—will these tools be important for an art world that wants to keep the global conversation alive without the frantic traveling?   
    Philip Tinari: This was, if anything, the big lesson of 2020: so much of what we took for granted as necessary turns out to be otherwise. As we were emerging from the Chinese lockdown in the spring, we organized an exhibition called “Meditations in an Emergency,” a group show of 26 international artists. A year ago, the idea of installing a work by an artist like Pierre Huyghe, Mika Rottenberg, Wolfgang Tillmans, or Lawrence Abu Hamdan without having them or their team on site would have been unthinkable—and yet it turned out to be just fine. 
    Later in the year, we installed a painting show with Elizabeth Peyton over Zoom, and then a more complicated show, “Immaterial/Re-Material: A Brief History of Computing Art,” with many of the digital pioneers actually logging into our computers from Europe or North America to tweak their pieces. 
    Our exhibition “Mirage” is a culmination of this long arc—here we have a show that was never meant to be anything other than virtual, and yet at the same time it is also curated in close relation to our context and our space. It demands the viewer’s physical presence, even to interact with works that do not occupy physical space. I think it may offer a taste not only of how artists will continue to work with augmented reality, but of how museums may evolve in the coming years.
    Nina Chanel Abney, Imaginary Friend (2020). Courtesy of the artist, Acute Art, and UCCA.

    In recent years, works including a virtual component have been on display in exhibitions in ways that obey old institutional structures. One could imagine immersive experiences distributed across geographies in other ways. I think our collaboration shows the potential: Nina Chanel Abney’s Imaginary Friend hovers mysteriously in mid-air and seems to be blessing the grounds. Darren Bader’s giant girl carrying a crucifix and accompanied by a lively little dog seems to have broken out of some religious allegory. KAWS’s large COMPANION floats in the air as if weightless. How do people react to them?
    It has been exciting to arrive at UCCA each morning and to know that the lobby, our most public area, is haunted by all these virtual characters and objects that are both there and not there. Even if you cannot see them with the naked eye, after a while, you start to catch yourself intruding on “their” space, or seeing the works in your mind’s eye, even without using the app. They start to feel like old friends.
    Which piece do you find most surprising? 
    Cao Fei’s Li Nova is certainly eerie. It has been wonderful to see viewers react immediately to this spectral little boy who suddenly appears to be sitting in our lobby, doing his homework, surrounded by little floating turtles.
    Once or twice every century, a new visual technology appears that changes what art can be. Writer Douglas Coupland says that the introduction of VR and AR represents a shift comparable to the introduction of TV or even electricity. When a new artistic medium emerges, there is always this window of experimentation—a period of confusion and exaggeration perhaps, when things are not defined yet. Sometimes, that period is the most interesting from an artistic point of view…
    One interesting thing has been watching the audience learn to master this new technology on site. It is still emergent, which means there are issues to work out. Add to that the particular nature of the Chinese internet, which means that downloading a new app and unlocking the works contained in it are not as second-nature as they might be elsewhere. And still, there is always this wonderful moment of surprise when the first work appears. It’s as if the viewer is suddenly in a new relationship with a device that is such a part of everyday life, and now becomes a vessel for art. 
    Photos of visitors participating with the Acute Art App at UCCA. Courtesy Acute Art and UCCA.

    The idea that today’s reactions to the virus represent a kind of dress rehearsal for the climate crisis is a recurring theme in the discourse surrounding the pandemic. Some museums have declared a climate emergency, but so far it remains unclear what the call for radical change could imply beyond the museum doing less of exactly that which made the institution attractive in the first place. I wonder if these new visual possibilities will change the function of the museum?
    I think increasingly the function of the museum is to articulate a community, and the most direct way to do that is to assemble people in a common space. That’s what’s most appealing to me about this exhibition: rather than being disembodied, it actually creates an intense engagement with the physical setting and the institutional apparatus of the museum. The show has just been open for one weekend and our visitor experience team is saying that they have never received so many questions, or had so many interactions, as they have in these two days. Sure, some of that is because the technology is emergent and there are questions around how to use the app or activate the works, but a lot of it is also this shared sense of wonder. 
    Do we need new kinds of institutions? 
    This extended slowdown has allowed and encouraged us to think more carefully about what goes into each of the projects we take on. I have talked about a kind of “new intentionality”: it’s not that we will completely stop doing major international touring shows, it’s just that we will need to have a much clearer idea of what should go into them and what audiences should get out of them. Another trend has been that of institution as caretaker—of its staff, its community, and even of individual artists. This period of difficulty has made the depth of our connections with the scene around us even more clear. That’s why, for example, the show opening just after ours is an emerging artist prize exhibition staged by a company from Hainan—it usually happens in Sanya this time each year, but in this moment of scaling back, we decided to make our space available for works by these 15 finalists and a program of symposia around them.
    Clearly, the art fair and biennial models that have dominated the international art world for the past two decades will seem unacceptable to ecologically engaged audiences moving forward. Perhaps what we need are hybrid spaces made possible when physical locations are connected virtually? Thousands of people flying to another continent for a weekend to buy and sell art that also has been transported there by air may no longer seem like the ideal mode of exchange. 
    And yet somehow, those offline events were even more suited to being a kind of neutral platform. When you move the art fair online, you immediately come up against the culturally divergent practices and expectations that people bring with them to their screens. The screen is such an immediate and intimate space, and the interface so embedded. I’m thinking here of Chinese collectors trying to log onto the online viewing rooms of major international galleries and wondering why the download speeds are so slow, and why there is no immediate chat assistant, like you find on [Chinese shopping website] Taobao.
    Darren Bader, LOVE (2019). Courtesy of the artist, Acute Art, and UCCA.

    That form of globalism will end. But what will take its place? New forms of localism? An emphasis on grassroots initiatives? 
    My friend Kyle Chayka wrote a piece in Frieze last December about the coterie of art critics who were completely inured to the wonders of the world after years on the international junket circuit. And we all know dealers and curators and collectors who would post from a new city every three days. I think we all knew this would not last forever. Hopefully in the next world, we will still move sometimes, but perhaps physical travel will be the most extreme behavior on a continuum of ways to connect. From the perspective of a museum, there will always be an allure and a rationale for more cosmopolitan projects—it will just need to be stronger. And this may create more bandwidth for local initiatives. 
    Remember: digital technologies are not entirely harmless from an ecological perspective. Server farms consume gigantic amounts of power and the green energy revolution has a long way to go to reach carbon neutrality. Will technology save us?
    I find the work of John Gerrard very instructive here—his Western Flag occupies the wall behind where all our AR works are installed. So much of his work, and that of the other artists in the exhibition “Immaterial/Re-Material: A Brief History of Computing Art,” is about exactly that: the physical footprint of the virtual world. I often stand near that work and watch as our staff receive all manner of deliveries using the extremely broad and efficient constellation of Chinese “O2O” (online-to-offline) apps, which bring everything to your doorstep thanks to a regimented, algorithmic, and yet still precarious labor force of “delivery knights” on electric scooters.
    Olafur Eliasson, Uncertain Cloud “Wunderkammer” (2020) and KAWS HOLIDAY SPACE (2020). Courtesy of the artists, Acute Art, and UCCA.

    David Wallace-Wells, author of The Uninhabitable Earth, talks about Silicon Valley’s “Church of Technology” and the belief that the ever-accelerating progress of machine intelligence will save the planet. But, he wonders, how many of us will play augmented reality games on a planet that is 6°C (42.8°F) warmer? On the other hand, AR might help us change our patterns of behavior. 
    I suppose that other than doing our part to make our lifestyles and our institutions more responsible, we can also try to make the works do some kind of consciousness raising. I love how Olafur Eliasson’s burning sun appears on the terraced seating at our entrance, a kind of reminder that we cannot sit still for much longer.
    Do you think that these art forms will be accepted in China more quickly than in Europe and the US?   
    I have always loved how the calcified hierarchies of the 19th and 20th centuries never had time to take root here, meaning that, government suppression aside, the public has always been curious and open in a way that continues to feel fresh. Social media, unable to host difficult social and political conversations, has veered even further toward what I have taken to calling the “autoerotics of authoritarianism”—that endless flow of scripted art selfies. 
    And yet it is impossible to take a photograph of oneself with an AR work (unless you are holding two phones, which is very difficult even for the most agile influencer). And so somehow, in addition to reinforcing a connection with the place (by making the viewer stand in a specific spot and scan a specific location), this exhibition also has a relational valence whereby you might need to ask a fellow museum-goer to help you take a photo with your favorite work. Thankfully, the coronavirus is—for now, at least—on the wane, and people are not afraid to touch each other’s devices.
    “Mirage: Contemporary Art in Augmented Reality” is on view at UCCA in Beijing through February 10, 2021. 
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    How a Palestinian Artist Duo’s Decade-Long Project About Mourning and Memory Was Transformed by the Pandemic

    It’s not customary that an artistic project begins with a postscript, but when the COVID-19 pandemic hit, it turned the world upside down.
    Basel Abbas and Ruanne Abou-Rahme’s newest work, an ongoing multimedia project co-commissioned by the Dia Art Foundation and the Museum of Modern Art, was not exempt from this topsy-turviness. In fact, it was especially susceptible to it.
    “We began writing in February about the constant mourning, loss, and grief in Palestine, Syria, Iraq, and that general area, even though our work always tries to resonate in a broader way,” Abou-Rahme said in a phone interview. “When the pandemic happened and there was this immense global scale of loss and mourning, obviously the text started to take on a completely different significance.”
    The first part of May amnesia never kiss us on the mouth (2020–), the “postscript,” is now live on Dia’s website, the latest in the institution’s series of online commissions, which began 25 years ago. The project will gradually expand with more chapters in the coming months, and, at an undetermined future time (pandemic developments permitting), be capped off with an exhibition and performance at MoMA, hopefully featuring Palestinian electronic musicians and other performers.
    At the time of the Arab Spring a decade ago, the Palestinian artists became captivated with the way everyday people documented and published online their own experiences of the historic events in the Middle East. For them, all this activity redefined what archives are and can be.
    They began to download and transcribe videos of public performances, dances, readings, and protests, though they didn’t know how they might eventually use them; many have since disappeared from the internet and exist only in the artists’ archive.
    The project took shape slowly and went through a few iterations, and evolved into its present form over the past three years. Its title comes from Roberto Bolaño’s “Infrarealist Manifesto,” an indictment of complacency that the renowned Chilean writer wrote in 1976.
    Living in Brooklyn, the artists found themselves at the epicenter of the COVID-19 pandemic in the United States. “Having the privilege of having left Palestine and not living under those conditions,” Abou-Rahme said, “it was intense to feel that the world had become like Palestine and there was no escape.”
    With the entire globe becoming steeped in loss, the meaning of their project—especially amid a glut of “the art world goes online” content—could only change. Although it was initially slated to be released in the spring, Dia and the artists agreed to put on the brakes as the artwork’s meaning was retrospectively altered.
    “So,” said Abou-Rahme, “we needed to start with the postscript.”
    Basel Abbas and Ruanne Abou-Rahme, Postscript: after everything is extracted (detail from May amnesia never kiss us on the mouth), 2020– . Collection of the artists, commissioned by Dia Art Foundation for the Artist Web Projects series. © Basel Abbas and Ruanne Abou-Rahme.

    Postscript: After everything is extracted combines the duo’s sometimes rumbling, sometimes meditative downbeat electronic music (they perform as Tashweesh) with sections of found texts. These pop up on small tiles, which the viewer can click on to enlarge, toggle between English and Arabic, and dismiss. They appear alongside images of two phone screens with a man’s and a woman’s avatars on them. It’s a little bit like FaceTiming with these two people while messaging one another poems about loss.
    “Every day we mourn another death,” says one text. “We mourn the disappearing land, the severed horizon. We mourn the deterioration of our bodies.”
    “We are in the negative / (no) / we are the negative / How easily we mutate / mutate and mourn / how many times have I died / how many times have we died / too many,” reads another.
    Under the heading “New York,” one text reads: “This country is on fire. Some things need to burn.” Another, headed “Palestine,” refers to the violence of occupation: “I know the land is scorched.”
    In keeping with the long period over which the project has unfurled, the next phase of the online component will expand in summer 2021.
    Both born in 1983 (Abbas in Cyprus and Abou-Rahme in Boston), the artists have built up an impressive résumé. Over the last decade, they’ve been included in high-profile shows like the São Paulo Biennale and the Istanbul Biennial, as well as in the Palestinian pavilion at the 2009 Venice Biennale. They’ve mounted solo shows at the Institute of Contemporary Art in Philadelphia and the Kunstverein Hamburg, and their work has entered well-known collections including that of Berlin’s Julia Stoschek.
    “I’ve always been attracted to artists with a research-driven practice who aren’t afraid to approach media and performance in a way that can be a sharing of knowledge,” Dia curator Kelly Kivland told Artnet News. She describes the duo’s practice as a kind of “choreographic thinking” that brings various voices together. “It’s the political themes of pushing against defined borders and cultures that I find incredibly prescient.”
    Through this Friday, December 18, two video works, Only the beloved keeps our secrets (2016) and And yet my mask is powerful Part 1 (2016–18), are available on Dia’s website.
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    ‘It Was About Meeting Myself in the Middle’: Watch Artist Marela Zacarías Meld Ancient Mexican Traditions With Contemporary Sculpture

    As part of a collaboration with Art21, hear news-making artists describe their inspirations in their own words.
    The post ‘It Was About Meeting Myself in the Middle’: Watch Artist Marela Zacarías Meld Ancient Mexican Traditions With Contemporary Sculpture appeared first on artnet News. More