Op Ed

"I believe that 'funny' works best in its natural habitat. Right in the jungle along with 'awful,' 'sad', 'confusing' and 'nothing.'" - Louis C.K.

Why does the hair stand up on the back of my neck when I read artist statements, reviews and essays that invoke the word “community?”

Recently I was complaining to a curator about a museum in Texas that rarely shows Texas artists. The curator replied, “Why do they have to show Texas artists?”

As you'll see, Smart's concepts for her work really take shape just after the two-minute mark.

In this age of information static there’s something reassuring about settling into a room full of one artist’s works.

When you enter the fedora-bro black hole of infinite out-of-touchedness, you never get to come back. And it looks like the Oscars are going there this year.

Two recent shows essentially brought blatant sexuality back to a basic truth: we are animals, born naked and without self-consciousness about our bodies and our sensuality.

We really do get why you might have a dim view of Texas. We just don't agree with you.

For every kid on either side of any racist divide there comes a time when they figure out that in this country, they’re either a cowboy or an Indian.

As you know by now, the theme of the ArtSmarter Prize is 'What Would You Do For Love?,' and here we present three answers by Justin Ginsberg.

In celebration of the new year and Glasstire’s 15th Anniversary in 2016, we’ll be mining our archive of 3000+ features and republishing some old favorites. Here are two by Bill Davenport published days apart in 2014.

Something mystical happens, the asshole rings a bell and screams Merry Christmas! The end.

The Artsmarter Prize—"your mom's favorite art prize"—is not going away.

Today, participation in the art world is akin to auditioning for American Idol; it’s no longer grounded in reality. What difference does it make if you do or don’t have an MFA degree?

I’m learning to be grateful for all the terrible shit that hasn’t happened to me instead of being pissed off at all the things that have.

Lately it seems the charges of offensiveness are flying around faster than a frail 80-year-old burning at the stake in colonial Massachusetts.

It’s not totally Abstraction’s fault that I turned it into a religion.

Art matters, and it’s time many of us stop qualifying the objects we make as some form of an addiction and instead as a choice to contribute meaningfully to the world.

When we complain on these pages about Zombie Abstraction, we're not mindlessly echoing some established chorus for the sake of entertainment. We're expressing a real fatigue about market-driven pap that has no resonance, no interest in the world, and no future.

"Let’s put it this way: any black person who hears about this will not lose sleep about it."