#justin-anderson

#justin-anderson

"It's an amalgamation of the Chicago neighborhood aesthetic with a Bulls fan, quite literally. It's kind of on the nose, but that's how I juxtapose the elements of my work, with the structure of a home and then a figure who is around or in the home."

"Most people don't stop to observe the crews' work or the infrastructure they uncover," Tentler-Krylov said. "But these unseen things keep the city going."

Every terrible thing always begins in the prettiest weather. Cruelty loves a clear sky. . . . Every war starts on a perfect day. This opening number from Diane Severin Nguyen's War Songs captured the paradox of experiencing extraordinary art and cultural vitality while geopolitical crises unfold, setting the tone for the week's contradictions.

Kamrooz Aram is everywhere this year, from Mumbai Art Week to the Whitney Biennial, and critic Aruna D'Souza is grateful. She pens a beautiful meditation on his work, reading his abstract paintings as not simply a denunciation of Western modernism nor a reassertion of Islamic visual motifs, but something else entirely - something gestural, exuberant, riotous, and incomparably his own.

Last summer, Alexander Wang bought the Beaux-Arts HSBC bank on Bowery and Canal for $9.5 million in cash. At the time, the fashion designer declined to say what he was planning to do with the domed 1924 landmark, which HSBC had shuttered a few years earlier. Now, Wang and his mother Ying - one of the co-trustees on the deed - have announced that they will be opening an Asian American cultural center, Wang Contemporary, in the 17,600-square-foot space at 58 Bowery.

Pratt Shows is an annual series of public exhibitions and presentations by the Institute's graduating class, representing years of research, exploration, and creative inquiry.

The 6th edition of Earth 2026 juried awards invites artists worldwide to explore and express the power, beauty, and resilience of our wounded planet as we approach World Earth Day.

Anderson's washed out, hazy, heat-drenched take on figurative painting is him trying to figure it all out, to make sense of a senseless world.

The new New Museum is many things: contemporary, perhaps, but also a science, history, anthropology, and many other museums in one. It echoes the desire of its patron class to own the world and its affiliated courtier class to deliver it to them on a silver platter, or encased in perforated metal, in this case.

On Franklin Street in Brooklyn's Greenpoint neighborhood, one non-commercial gallery fosters 'a small, stubbornly human space for friction.' Friction—the ubiquitous buzzword that captures the simultaneous delight and discomfort of doing things the slow way—is at the heart of artists Pap Souleye Fall and Char Jeré's current show at Subtitled NYC. It also reflects the overall spirit of this little exhibition space and of a burgeoning movement to reject our culture of optimization in favor of a bumpier, more intimate, less alienating experience.

He's an artist that was a major presence in Los Angeles art for almost 50 years, one of the best sculptors to emerge in this town. But he hides in plain sight. Not enough people know about what makes him the artist that he is. When we look closer at Bob's work, he was an artist that was a part of the discussion here in Los Angeles for a very long time.

In 2024, I made a vow to never base my art criticism on wall labels. My decision came after reading reactions to that year's Whitney Biennial. "If every label in 'Even Better Than the Real Thing,' the 81st installment of the Whitney Biennial, were peeled off the walls and tossed into the Hudson, what would happen?" asked Jackson Arn in the New Yorker. (He went on to suggest that the overall show would have been much better.)

I work outside, carving and shaping the stone. Outside my house, I have a table, an extension cord, and tools. It's very cold and I have to wear all my winter clothes. When it's too cold, I do the filing and finishing work inside after I shape it outside. I listen to all kinds of music. I listen to Eminem all the time; his albums are all my favorites. For drawings, I work at Kinngait Studios or at home on my kitchen table.

Mornings are best for concentrated work. In the winter, I turn on the heat at 8am and get started around 10am. Summer, I start around 9am. I have two areas in the studio for projects. The large, heavy wood sculptures are carved in the front section of the studio, closest to the roll-up wide door. Smaller sculptures are placed on a hydraulic workbench. Before I start, I focus, connect with the Source, and ask for guidance.

Disembodied heads, eyes, and hands meet spindly trees, dragonflies, and vibrant blossoms in the folk-art inspired works of Michael McGrath. Based in Rhinebeck, New York, McGrath melds a variety of media-most pieces contain a mixture of graphite, ink, and oil and acrylic paints-into dynamic compositions suffuse with mystery. Recurring symbols and objects lend themself to a distinctive visual language that captures both the wondrous and puzzling.

"Color, color relationships, pattern and form are the hallmarks of Mitchell Johnson's achievement. Contemplating the growth and movement of his efforts over the years, we experience his intent, instinct and intuition. We become aware of his affinities with Morandi and Albers, and with Bonnard, Vuillard and Fairfield Porter. Johnson has remarked that he tries to "combine Morandi's feeling for composition with Albers' intelligence about color." And he exhibits an inspirational and perhaps emotional relationship with the work of Fairfield Porter."

"As I stood and looked at it on a drizzly gray day," John Yau writes of looking at a radiant painting by Edward Zutrau, "I forgot that it was raining." That's what art can do - stop you in your tracks, make you forget absolutely everything save for that essential encounter between you and the work.