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422 articles written by heikemoras

Despite of its high-brow credo of using ordinary materials and its close association with the progressive Italian student movement of the 1960s, Arte Povera was essentially a cerebral men’s club. The lone woman, who was tolerated at the margins (no doubt owing to her role as the wife of one of the founders), is finally getting an extensive and long-overdue retrospective at the Met Breuer. Marisa Merz’s work is defined by the materials and processes she had at hand. Her studio was her kitchen and her weapon the knitting needle. For her earliest work she hung enormous molded aluminium forms from her kitchen ceiling which scared her small daughter Bea. She made up for the fright by knitting beautiful little shoes (scarpette) for the child using nylon and copper wire and decorating them with buttons and nails. Over the years, either by default or choice, Merz created works that blurred the line between fine art and function and muddied the role of artist, mother, and wife. The show includes several of Merz’s esoteric heads and faces from the 1980s and 1990s, her haunting Madonna-like drawings, as well as her later, much larger-scaled installation works. But it is the earlier works that stay with you, such as this wooden swing from 1968 which Merz made for Bea and hung from the ceiling of the family apartment. It shows Merz’s keen grasp of geometric minimalism, architectural awareness, and a sense that the nucleolus of our lives are the people who are closest to us. Through May 7.

A series of new works by Dutch artist Hannah van Bart currently on view at Marianne Boesky gallery beautifully explore the infinite possibilities of the line in female portraiture. In Van Bart’s muted paintings, the line is simultaneously meandering and controlled, the blurring of the edges suggest a fragility and transparency that exposes her subjects’ vulnerability and blending into the background – a role that has been traditionally ascribed to women. Van Bart takes the title of the exhibition, “The Smudge Waves Back”, from a scene in the breathtaking historical novel “The Thousand Autumns of Jacob de Zoet” by David Mitchell. The figures that emerge from her muted backgrounds are melancholic and mysterious Egon-Schiele-like women that seem beset by the complexity of history and possess a visceral perception of consciousness. As Mitchell fittingly writes in another passage of the same book: “An ink brush is a skeleton key for a prisoner’s mind.” Through February 4.

Hito Steyerl’s acclaimed video installation “Factory of the Sun (2015), currently on view at the Whitney as part of the beautifully curated exhibition “Dreamlands: Immersive Cinema and Art, 1905 – 2016, is an incredibly complex and ultimately sober assessment into the broadening elasticity between news, entertainment and virtual reality. Taking the guise of a video game, “Factory of the Sun” is loosely based on a fictional light and information dependant hegemony that raises urgent questions about the proliferation of reality-based news programming, the tyranny of public opinion, the pitfalls of corporate sponsorship, and the increasing unavoidability of mass surveillance. Through February 5.

What happens when you move from strict catholic Colombia to free-wheeling Holland? A carnal, bold, concupiscent version of Claes Oldenburg, of course! The late Colombian conceptual artist Miguel Ángel Cárdenas moved to Holland in 1962, became Michel Cardena, and immediately started to shed his deep-seated image of the body as shameful and indecent in favour of a sculptural practice that incorporated the use of genetilia, tubes, zippers, spongy materials and bold colours. Aside from staging regular happenings with the usual sixties free-love trimmings, Cárdenas was a pioneer in video and performance art in the Netherlands, exploring sexuality and body awareness that became influential for a new generation of performance artists. At Andrea Rosen through February 4.

Plexiglass came late to British sculptor Sir Anthony Caro. Aged 87 and already renowned for his innovating use of different materials and shapes, Caro became fascinated by the indestructibility and infinite colour possibilities of the acrylic material. Several fine examples of Caro’s plinthless steel and plexiglass structures are now on view at Mitchell-Innes & Nash. They show Caro’s dedication to form, high regard for architecture and a keen understanding of colour which was sharpened by his marriage to British painter Shiela Girling. The exhibition is accompanied by a series of beautiful works on paper that show the artist’s ability to develop three dimensionality on a single plane of paper and which served as inspirations for his later work. Through February 4.

Throughout the ages, hand-crocheted blankets have provided comfort and warmth, and have often been an important vehicle for artistic expression by women denied access to a mostly male-dominated art spectrum. Michelle Grabner’s striking bronze sculptures of crocheted blankets, currently on view at James Cohan, have a decidedly mournful quality. Instead of neatly folded or carelessly crumpled, Grabner presents her blankets vertically, as if held up by two invisible hands. The result is disconcertingly lonely – the human presence is implied but ultimately denied – the original fabric lost in the process of bronzing. The artist pairs these sculptural ghosts with her abstract paintings of the same patterns connecting the abstract to the metaphoric and the conceptual to the corporeal. Through January 28.

“Mastry”, the magnificent retrospective of Kerry James Marshall’s work at the Met Breuer, is first and foremost a long overdue tribute to black bodies on and in front of the canvas. Marshall’s binary approach to an appalling art historic imbalance combines the monumentality of his works and the extraordinary deepness of the color black of his subjects’ skin. Marshall’s use of the blackest black is of course allegorical; his are African-American stories – not a drop of white is needed. The denseness of Marshall’s black often renders the features of his subjects nearly invisible and hints at the obscurity of Ralph Ellison’s Invisible Man.  A master storyteller, Marshall weaves the political, urban, suburban, and African-American history into ordinary narratives that are meant to upend popular perceptions of black culture as impoverished, violent or outraged and directly challenge conventional ideals of beauty. Luscious colors, complex compositions, transcendental narratives and an ability to seamlessly work across media: Marshall is shifting expectations on racial identity and art historical discourse by declaring himself and his culture Invisible No More. Through January 29.

The Impasse Ronsin, a dilapidated Parisian alley tucked away behind the Montparnasse and near the entrance of a hospital morgue, has long been the stuff of legends for both art historians and fans of Dada and Surrealism. Notorious for a double murder involving the mistress of the President Félix Faure in 1908, the alley was seized upon soon after as the perfect studio space and home for artists such as Constantin Brancusi, William N. Copley, Max Ernst, Yves Klein, Les Lalanne, Larry Rivers and many other important artists of the early 20th century. Nikki de Saint Phalle made her famous shooting paintings there, Jean Tinguely and Yves Klein collaborated on “Excavatrice de l’Espace”; Marcel Duchamp and Man Ray were daily fixtures hatching avant-garde concepts on desire and sexuality and laying the groundwork for idea driven or conceptual art. Although never really able to spawn a discernible art movement, the Impasse nevertheless became a breeding ground for some of the most influential artistic breakthroughs of early 20th century art, no doubt fuelled by an insouciant atmosphere of invigorating rivalries, sexual relationship merry-go-rounds, creative inspiration, and artistic collaboration – all amid a carefree environment of Bohemian squalor. Paul Kasmin Gallery has resurrected the iconoclastic ambiance of the Impasse with a marvellous exhibition showing many of the artists who came together under its ramshackle roofs. The exhibition boasts many art historical treasures but a special treat awaits in the rear gallery where the Noguchi Museum created an homage to Brancusi, the éminence grise of the Impasse, whose influence percolated onto his lone assistant Isamu Noguchi and whose Brancusi-like studio is re-created here. Through January 14.

Contrary to popular art lore, Jean Dubuffet was never actually an Art Brut artist. Dubuffet briefly studied painting at the Académie de Julian in Paris, moved in art circles with artists such as Fernand Léger and Juan Gris, and, after a brief stint in the family wine business, finally devoted himself fully to art making in 1942. Nevertheless, like his contemporary Paul Klee and others artists at that time, Dubuffet was fascinated by art made outside the art establishment like children’s drawings and art by the mentally ill. According to Dubuffet, “A work of art is only of interest, in my opinion, when it is an immediate and direct projection of what is happening in the depth of a person’s being.. ..It is my belief that only in this Art Brut can we find the natural and normal processes of artistic creation in their pure and elementary state.” (Prospectus et tous écrits suivants, Vol. II, Jean Dubuffet, Gallimard, Paris 1967). An extraordinary collection of Dubuffet’s drawings from 1935 until 1962, currently on view at the Morgan Library, perfectly showcases the channelling of this pure and elementary state, as in, for example, this wonderful gouache from 1943 depicting ordinary Parisiens in the Metro. Despite inspired by the colors and stylistic simplicity of children’s drawings, the scene, nevertheless reveals Dubuffet’s artistic genius. Deliberately set within the claustrophobia of a metro car in Nazi-occupied Paris, the passengers fit neatly in well-ordered rectangles not daring to fall out of line, as the “Rauchen Verboten” (Smoking not permitted) sign sternly admonishes. Through January 2.

In “Der Aufbruch” (2012) a blond boy in a Christian-Schad-like shirt and framed by a swan, stands awkwardly off-center while a sailor wrapped around a building is trying to coax an indifferent canary bird into his hand. A horse-drawn carriage is advancing quickly from the left amidst Moorish-looking architecture. The title of this work most likely refers to Kafka’s parable “Der Aufbruch” (The Departure), about a metamorphic equine trip into unknown – no doubt related to the coming-out symbolism in the scene. Welcome to the weird and wonderful world of German painter Katharina Wulff! Complex, strange, and with an exquisite surrealist bent, Wulff’s figurative paintings are expert compositions that focus the eye on a visual path that is exasperatedly ambiguous yet firmly ground in the flattened surroundings of Wulff’s adopted home town of Marrakech. They are tokens of a contemporary painter that understands history, perspective, and color, and has the ability to take us on to a mysterious journey. At Greene Naftali through December 23.

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