Visual Arts
Chain Letter is an ambitious maelstrom of eclectic works, but a caution to visitors: Go with an insider, a participating artist, or someone who’s close to the show.
Nothing would please me more than to believe the announcement made last week by the Van Gogh Museum, saying that one of the paintings in the museum that has always been called a self-portrait by Vincent van Gogh is in fact a portrait of his brother Theo
Camille Pissarro lived to be 73. As he aged, he looked more and more like the prototype of a Sephardic Jew. Anti-Semitic rioting accompanied the Dreyfus Affair; the painter found it prudent to stay inside his hotel room in Paris.
Hard economic times hit artists in many different ways. One of the least remarked upon is when there is no longer enough cash for the studio. A local artist, who would prefer to remain anonymous, contemplates the end of having a space where creativity and independence can thrive.
How many painters were taught by Rembrandt? How big was his school? Well, that is a matter for debate — to echo Donald Rumsfeld, there are the known unknowns. Then there are the unknown unknowns
Sue Yang’s eclectic solo exhibition explores the intersections of her multicultural identity through digital and organic art — each medium represents a different facet of the artist’s contemplative selfhood.
Author Carol Verburg covers a sinfully neglected part of Edward Gorey’s career –- the books on his art deal cursorily, if at all, with his forays into theater as a director, designer, actor, and writer
“Through the Looking Glass” is a glorious celebration of American fine art and a much-needed boost to the MFA’s Americas wing collection. Amid the drab puritanical portraits and the remarkably unremarkable display of colonial dressers, Chihuly’s glassworks are testaments to the beauty of vivacity. Chihuly: Through the Looking Glass. At the Museum of Fine Arts,…
Updated Local artist, curator and arts educator Susan Erony, whose text piece on silk “To Gloucester with Love” is a setting of a Charles Olson poem, gave a model of an arts center talk on the evolution of text as visual art.
The ostensible theme of the exhibit “The Last Gesture” might be best regarded, then disregarded, as critic Charlie Finch’s attempt to channel his roiling cognitive slurry. The work itself doesn’t need it.
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