To non-creative people, this must look nuts.
To an outsider, the A&M campus feels unattractive, humorless and a little silly. And yet: there really is a palpable, profoundly likeable sense of honor at the place.
The idea for the majority of the work comes from a relationship the artist has with another abandoned building: a magnificently damaged 1930s warehouse with its waves of dramatically buckled flooring.
This week: a show that shrinks itself, a show that freezes things, and couple of shows that give us that fuzzy TBT feeling.
We are treated to what feels like an all-nighter fueled by an excessive intake of ecstasy and coke. You start out having fun, you imagine there is no one sexier than you are, and then hours later you’re crying blood.
I attended a new writers’ conference in Minneapolis over the weekend, hosted by the Walker Art Center. It was called “Superscript: Arts Journalism and Criticism in a Digital Age.”
Jesse Amado calls on many forms and precedents for his current show — Pop art, Minimalism, Color Field painting, Conceptual art—as well as his recent experiences with illness and treatment.
So the show is a push and pull between what is inherent to a space, and what the individual inhabiting the space constructs for himself.
I would be embarrassed to ask a young writer who is just starting out to give us their content for free, on the argument that our larger audience would “give them exposure.” Hey, artists: does that sound familiar?
This week: creepy Internet addiction, ye goode olde dayes of buffalo slaughter, and–finally being screened for the first time–a Christian Marclay video about a […]
Bill has set before me a last terrifying example and challenge: to overcome my rage and fear and to someday die with as much grace and dignity as he did.
Maybe something fabulous and unexpected can occur here, something vaguely ‘illegal,’ something wild, something heinous, something bad.
Out here, you could believe that any artwork could grow to unholy proportions, in a sort of 'Food of the Gods' mutation.
By the early 2000s, the artist had become interested in new digital technologies and, making his own contribution to the field, began using a camera of his own invention.
Even in Bryan, TX, where everything is maroon—even here, it's here.
"I think some people are concerned about Diverseworks becoming too much of an institution and I don’t want that to happen."
"Just keep pushing the boundaries of the discipline of art."
GOURDS!! And punk's not dead. And despite appearances to the contrary, Christina and Rainey are not on safari.
The cities and neighborhoods within these drawings seem to have sprung full grown from House’s larger-than-life cranium, like Athena from the head of Zeus.
I feel for anyone who wants to write for a living and won’t get to do so in an office with other editors and writers.