The following conversation grows from my great respect for these artists’ thinking. Both allow themselves to be vulnerable as they orchestrate with affection and humility encounters with others in search of their subjects.
During his early years living in New York City, Wright’s work provided a kaleidoscopic document of the city’s still burgeoning queer spaces.
For my sabbatical last fall, my husband and I took an extended trip to Japan to experience firsthand something called Ma in Japanese and Chinese painting and architecture.
This past January, I was lucky enough to be awarded an artist’s residency in Southern India.
When Marina Abramović agreed to take part in Matthew Akers’s documentary, she couldn’t have known how powerfully that film would resonate nearly a decade later.
During my childhood in Canton, Illinois, we had a gallery of eccentric gentlemen, but the prince of the group was Roger Heller.
Within this uncanny and theatrical space, Staver’s paintings, aquatint etchings, drawings, and relief sculptures greeted visitors with a beguiling mix of tension and familiarity.
By nearly all accounts, this American moment is one characterized by deep turmoil.
