On View

On View

‘Under the Same Sun: Art From Latin America Today’ at the Guggenheim

'A ∩ B ∩ C' (2013) by Amalia Pica. (Photo by Daniela Uribe, courtesy the artist, Marc Foxx Gallery and Museo Tamayo Arte Contemporáneo)

The Guggenheim’s exhibition of works recently acquired from Latin American artists is of great interest, not solely because of the art it puts on view, but also because of the various ways in which that art’s politics rub up against the ambitions of global art museums like the Guggenheim and large corporations like the show’s sponsor.

On display are works by 40 artists from some 15 countries in Latin America, including Argentina, Bolivia, Brazil, Chile, Colombia, Costa Rica, Cuba, Guatemala, Honduras, Mexico, Panama, Peru, Uruguay and Venezuela. A similar show at the Guggenheim last year covered acquisitions of art from South and South-East Asia; the next installation, in 2015, will encompass art from the Middle East and North Africa. Read More

On View

Nicholas Buffon at Callicoon Fine Arts

'124 Forsyth Street' (2014) by Nicholas Buffon. (Courtesy the artist and Callicoon Fine Arts)

To close out the gallery’s three-year run at 124 Forsyth Street, Nicholas Buffon has turned Callicoon Fine Arts inside out. A single room that already feels something like an alleyway, with close-set white walls and a rough concrete floor, it’s now hung with Mr. Buffon’s exacting but fanciful models of the yellowish-white wooden house in the town of Callicoon, in upstate New York, where the gallery was founded; the steel gates that protect the gallery’s much larger new space on Delancey Street; a stop sign, a paper shopping bag, a streetlight, a cast-iron gate, a blue plastic bag of recycling, a red bicycle with a stolen front wheel, three Dr. Seuss trees, and the five-story, red brick Forsyth Street building itself, all made from paper and foam core. Read More

On View

Matthew Monahan at Anton Kern Gallery

Exhibition view. (Courtesy Anton Kern Gallery)

Matthew Monahan is either Circe or Ulysses. For the sculptures and works on paper at Kern, he sliced up nymphs—or one nymph repeatedly—and then put her back together, along with one or two sleeping giants and a fallen god, using bronze, steel, fire brick, rebar, photocopy toner, aluminum leaf, oil paint, polyurethane foam, cast epoxy resin, and tall, narrow tables that look like hollow steel light boxes. The theatrical, comic-book cubism that results is either thrashing out the violence and misogyny suffusing the relentlessly unreflective visual culture we’re all stuck with or attempting to turn it against itself. Is the half-present ballerina of Bright Lament, for example,demurely tilting her head with the help of the armature, or has the eternal spirit of the feminine been impaled by a piece of rebar? And is she a woman, or is she a symbol of the unbearably ubiquitous image? Read More

On View

‘When the Stars Begin to Fall: Imagination and the American South’ at the Studio Museum in Harlem

Video still of 'Billy Sings Amazing Grace' (2013–14) by Theaser Gates. (Courtesy the artist/Studio Museum)

This powerful group show features the work of several generations of African-American artists on the theme of the American South and visionary experience. Curated by Studio Museum assistant curator Thomas J. Lax, it provides viewers with precisely what the recently closed Whitney Biennial failed to deliver: a strong sense that something of interest is going on in American art. Read More

On View

‘Lucien Smith: Tigris’ at Skarstedt

'They just want to steal you and tear us both apart again.' (2014) by Lucien Smith. (Courtesy the artist and Skarstedt)

The 25-year-old Lucien Smith has made his name with one of the most painfully banal series of artworks in recent memory, his “Rain Paintings,” which he produces by peppering raw canvas with paint from a fire extinguisher. Visually D.O.A., they blithely and lazily riff on countless precedents, from Yves Klein’s fire and Warhol’s urine paintings to Dan Colen’s facile confetti canvases, which end up looking like the work of an Old Master in comparison. Mr. Smith has sprayed out hundreds of these things, and they are favorites of a certain type of collector. Read More

On View

‘Ragnar Kjartansson: Me, My Mother, My Father, and I’ at the New Museum

Exhibition view. (Photo Benoit Pailley/New Museum)

If irony is the antithesis of sincerity, Ragnar Kjartansson might represent their synthesis. A black-and-white photo of the artist at the age of 14, taken on the occasion of his confirmation, hangs alone on the wall that meets a visitor emerging from the New Museum’s elevators into Mr. Kjartansson’s current exhibition there, “Me, My Mother, My Father, and I.” Over and around this wall, 10 voices arranged in multipart polyphony by Kjartan Sveinsson (formerly of the Icelandic pop band Sigur Rós) come singing, while in the photo, young Master Kjartansson, sitting between his father and mother, thoughtfully waits it out with eyebrows raised and eyes downcast. The parents, Kjartan Ragnarsson and Guðrún Ásmundsdóttir, were costars in Iceland’s first feature film, Morðsaga (Murder Story, 1977), and Mr. Kjartansson—or so he was told, or so he tells us he was told—was conceived during shooting in May 1975. Read More

On View

Keith Haring at Gladstone Gallery

Exhibition view. (Photo by David Regen/©Keith Haring Foundation)

Don’t trust anyone whose opinion of Keith Haring falls short of unbridled admiration. The late Downtown phenom’s unrepentant accessibility and his (unfortunate) position as godfather to so much insipid street art can make him seem suspect and uncool, but the simple fact is that he produced some of the most captivating, irreverent, hilarious, engaged imagery of the past half century. Anyone who doubts it is refusing to look. Eight large works at Gladstone, on canvas, tarp and muslin, offer further proof of a basic truth: He is an American treasure. Read More

On View

‘Alain Biltereyst: Geo Land’ at Jack Hanley Gallery

Exhibition view. (Courtesy Jack Hanley Gallery)

Alain Biltereyst appropriates fragments of design he finds on the street to make acrylic-on-plywood paintings that read as a kind of left-handed minimalism with a strong undercurrent of Japanese heraldry. They come in two sizes, hardcover novel or dictionary, and are all unframed and untitled. He uses bright, primary reds and blues, as in one piece that stacks five X-acto blade shapes horizontally, in opposite directions, as if for a poster advertising a train station; a bilious yellow-green like millet porridge; light blue; lavender; pastel green; dark green; and a plastery, fingerprinted, hard-won, speck-marked white, through which red or blue gleam like blood under skin. But most of the work in the current show depends on indigo. Read More