In Chelsea, Jeff Bailey Gallery had a great Johannes De Young video that featured a creepy claymation talking head spouting self help affirmations in a English-accented, computer voice. Surrounded by waxy, green plant leaves, he repeats phrases like "I can control my thoughts."
There was a semi-big win for appropriation art, not to mention appropriation artist Richard Prince and New York's Gagosian Gallery. The U.S. Court of Appeals overturned a lower court ruling that found Prince had violated the copyright of French photographer Patrick Cariou.
I was grinding pencil lead and burning paper as I furiously wrote down her confession. The perp was speaking softly, her voice dulled with regret. An art world mystery of half a century has been solved and I have the confession!
It was 1950 when Helen Frankenthaler came back to New York after graduating from Bennington College. Frankenthaler set up a studio on East Twenty-First Street and wasted no time in stirring up the art world.
Money, fame and drugs never dimmed the visions of racial injustice and historical abuses of power that both haunted Jean-Michel Basquiat and fueled his imagination. Jean's sustained adolescent rage became the engine of his bracingly original art.
The seriousness with which Phillips treats Lohan, Lima and Grey prompts a series of uncomfortable questions: Why do I know who these women are? Why do so many of us care so much about them? What is it that makes millions of people love them, and millions of others hate them?
Thursday is opening day for an installation by French artist Xavier Veilhan. Architectones features abstract and figurative sculptures placed throughout the property of the Richard Neutra VDL Research House.
When you enter a gallery, especially a well-known gallery with outposts in London and Hong Kong and New York, there is a temptation to believe that one is seeing the "best of the best." But is that always the case?
Summertime used to mean that the galleries and museums would take it easy, presenting lackluster group shows and few, if any, challenging solo exhibitions. Not any more. Economy be damned, the Los Angeles art scene is now sizzling year round.