From the historical to the contemporary, from city centers to the far-flung reaches of the Arctic Circle, there is an abundance of events and exhibitions drawing art lovers to the northernmost reaches of Europe.
Celebrated for his nocturnal cityscapes of his native Stockholm, as depicted from his home on the southern island of Sodermalm, Jansson began frequenting the bathhouses to photograph naked swimmers and weight lifters, ultimately to render them on canvas.
Artist Royal Nebeker has what just may be the world's coolest studio space: he paints on the top floor of a former fishing facility -- The Uppertown Net Loft -- a battered and picturesque wooden building that sits on pilings 100 yards from the shoreline of Astoria, Oregon.
Like a method actor who lives the role he plays with such intensity and focus that he begins to instinctively move and think like the character he is playing, an art forger needs to channel his ancestral muse so that he can envision a convincing -- and compelling -- fabrication.
Three different incidents this month alone show us, however, that crime in museums is very easy to achieve. Elementary yet different in execution, these recent events allow us to ascertain what motivates people to commit art crimes.
Should exhibitions cater to the masses with monolithic shows featuring blue-chip artists and a shiny new line of gift shop merchandise, or should they present a novel intellectual and aesthetic experience?
There were two stories that made the front-page news last week. One had to do with art and an obscene amount of money. The other was a story about the shameful treatment by the Chinese authorities of political dissident Chen Guangcheng.