Perhaps unintentionally, the show is a moral fable on the nature of true achievement: Milton Avery’s steady progress on his own path stands out in this age of online influences and the rabid pursuit of instant fame and material success.
The volume’s overarching goal is to restore Florine Stettheimer to what the biographer sees as her rightful reputation as one of the great American artists of the 20th century.
This is an important book, a powerful account of the decline of California as America’s paradise.
At a time when ambitious women of any sort were often harshly criticized for pursuing a professional career, Barbara Rose only forged on.
The documentary covers a lot of dark and tragic territory, but it remains entertaining throughout, no doubt more than anything else from its skill in capturing the fierce, tender, acidic, brilliant, and ultimately inextinguishable energy of its subject, artist David Wojnarowicz.
Aside from making generalities about “making good photographs” and “earning a living,” celebrated photographer Elliott Erwitt steadfastly refuses to be drawn out.
John Giorno was in the vanguard of what later became the herd: Ginsberg, Kerouac, Warhol, Buddhism, Burroughs, enlightenment, spiritual quests to India, unfettered sex, wild poetry, new technology, experimental forms of expression, queer politics, pot, speed, LSD — all the household bric-a-brac of the counterculture.
How, as an African-American visual artist, do you represent something that no one wants to think about, much less look at? Kara Walker’s solution is ultimately an aesthetic one.
This fascinating exhibition surveys the entire history of the National Academy membership and, almost incidentally, provides a potent cross-section of the history of American art and its discontents.
The book will stand as a good first stop for anyone interested in Alfred Stieglitz, 20th-century photography, or American modern art.