Review

This exhibition makes an incongruent overview and will be answered in kind.

The video is a nightmare. It will ruin your day, and you can count yourself lucky that that’s the worst it can do.

Jules Buck Jones comes off a bit like a wild child. Formality doesn’t interest him. It’s easier to picture him perched in the canopy of a forest than standing on the concrete floor of a white-cube gallery.

The collected objects mingle, and the stories behind the objects create patterns, and the collection taken as a whole sends out the impression of luckiness in book form.

The resulting images are not the flashiest works, but they reward prolonged looking and would appeal to formalist junkies.

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.

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.

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.

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.

Even in Bryan, TX, where everything is maroon—even here, it's here.

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.

Like the name suggests, 'America Sneezes' brings together two themes: America and abjection.

A more careful curator’s hand might have helped define the transition between these very different kinds of photos Scheidemann presents; it’s a wonder that they’re coming from the same head space.

For Eric Zimmerman's solo show at Art Palace in Houston, the artist's choices reverberate with and contemplate the relentless course of history.

A 90 year-old artist who says he is telekinetic: the work is not only not cheesy but wholly convincing.

Over the past several years, Górowska has set about to remake some of Francesca Woodman’s weirdest atmospheric images as short performances documented on video.

The MFAH's landmark exhibition assembles conceptual Japanese photo-based art from the late-60s and 70s previously unseen in this country.

Maker has transformed grayDUCK from a serene, open space to a maze of disjointed fractions. The exhibition rolls 30 pieces deep, which is a high number given the scale of the works.