New faces emerged when in January 2017 a series of mosaics became part of the tiled walls of the 72nd Street Station at the new Second Avenue Subway. Vik Muniz’ Perfect Strangers was the transformation of photographs into life-size mosaics installed throughout the mezzanine and entrance area.
Article Categories Archives: Art
Gay Gotham admirably documents the contributions queer pioneers made to the visual arts, literature, dance, theater, music, and design during the 20th century, and how they helped shape the cultural landscape of New York and beyond. It’s something to be proud of, even if the exhibition is not a very “gay” affair.
CULTURAL TRANSFORMATIONS swept across this country in the mid-20th century, affecting every aspect of American life, including the arts. A new wave of outsider artists underscored the mood of restlessness through powerful photography and filmmaking.
The Glamour of Strangeness presents more-or-less chronological biographical sketches of six artists who attempted to leave behind both their homeland and their cultural identity in order to become part of a radically different culture, one that allowed them to rework their sense of self.
The son of Russian Jewish immigrants, Bernard Perlin was born in 1918 in Richmond, Virginia. He was sent to art school in New York at age fifteen and had early success as a muralist for Depression-era public works projects.
The photos in this book comprise a veritable walking tour of the home. The rooms are filled not only with Tom’s drawings and paintings (and those of other artists), but also with sculptures, dildos, leather apparel, fetish gear, packed bookshelves, and a wide array of salacious curios.
Even if you don’t recognize the name, you are probably familiar with some of the images captured by photographer Billy Name.
Tseng Kwong Chi: Performing for the Camera features more than eighty of Tseng’s large-format black-and-white landscape photographs, as well as color portraits of artists such as Andy Warhol and Jean-Michel Basquiat.
In fact, Bacon tells Peppiatt in Francis Bacon in Your Blood, Dyer simply saw the painter and his pals in a club in London and introduced himself, because they seemed to be having a good time.
AROUND THE TURN of the 20th century, “virile” (from the Latin virilis, manly) was an adjective frequently used by art critics to characterize American paintings. The boldest and most independent painters were conventionally designated as “virile,” while those who depended on European models were by implication not as masculine or even effeminate. Thus there were also nationalistic overtones to this term. “Virile” had connotations of mental health and moral purity as distinct from European decadence and corruption. Modernism itself was judged a European import that American artists would do well to avoid.