By JRS
Sunday marked the closing of another successful Armory Week in New York. Following the trend of Art Basel in Miami, the aisles were teeming with enthusiasts, artists, collectors, and dealers who seemed not to be aware in the least about our turbulent economic climate. Damien Hirst prints had five and six stickers next to them, denoting sales. It truly was a collector’s fair. (more…)
By JRS
In 1985, when billionaire Greek industrialist Dakis Joannou bought the first piece of his now world-renowned contemporary art collection—a basketball signed by Dr. Jay submerged in a tank of water and simply titled “Equilibrium”—it started two chain reactions. One, Mr. Koons would never have to worry about people buying his work again, as Jonnau has been very successful in buying up most of it for his monolithic museum in Athens. Secondly, Joannou would be very adept in helping to solidify emerging artists and future greats (Terrence Koh, Cindy Sherman, Takashi Murakami), as well as helping to shape the very nature of collecting. (more…)
By JRS
A piece by Indian-born artist, Raghava KK
On Friday, February 26, 2010, life as Raghava KK knew it, changed forever. It was 12pm and we were meeting for coffee, a mere two hours after his much-hyped TED talk went live on the web. Earlier in the month, KK had given a talk to a group of self-proclaimed “nerds” in the ongoing series of interactive talks presented by TED. His talk is now considered one of the most engaging and engrossing in the organization’s history. He speech touches on living and painting in his native India, becoming a gallery sensation at a very young age, and having it all ripped away as the government’s draconian censorship slipped between him and his collectors. Slipping in the art community and inching closer to being flat broke, KK stopped painting for himself and started pandering to his audience. “They called me a sellout, and no one bought my art,” he told me, reflecting on a very dark time. “I don’t have to censor my art now that I’m in the US.” (more…)
By JRS
"Aurel Schmidt," shot by Juro Schneider
Though only slightly more than half of the artists showing at the Whitney’s 75th annual Biennial are women, it’s already been dubbed “the Women’s Biennial,” thanks to cyberspace’s fervid bloggers and social networkers. The split highlights the blase gender blindness that the art community has boasted for years, and if people can actually buy into it, it may prove to be a very effective measure taken by chief curator, Francesco Bonami. (more…)
By JRS
Mr. Brainwash, aka Thierry Guetta, holding court over his maze on West 13th Street
“If you do something you love, you become an icon, because you do it so well that in one moment, everybody appreciates it,” says Thierry Guetta, leaning back in a paint-splattered Eames lounge chair in the middle of his newest exhibition, Icons. The street artist-turned gallery sensation went on to talk about his time spent decorating the walls and sidewalks of New York: “The street is just a large gallery to me. Even the people that don’t like it are obligated to see it. There are no rules on the street, there is just freedom. Thousands of people can see it.”
By Michelle Cheung
Derrick Cruz of Black Sheep and Prodigal Sons
“Like paradoxical black sheep and prodigal son” wrote Anatole Broyard in his autobiographical tale, “Kafka Was the Rage,” as he described the outcasts and rejects, who lived in Greenwich village after the Second World War. When Derrick Cruz read these words more than five years ago, he knew right away that it would help name and shape the story for his accessories brand. Broyard’s words captured Cruz’s repatriation to New York as an adult. “Like paradoxical black sheep and prodigal sons,” he said, “we all come here [to New York] kind of outcasts, being rejected, seeking something new, seeking redemption of some sort. When I saw that line, I knew that was going to be the name and, aesthetically, it became more about archetypes that, in my head, were both wise and stubborn at the same time.” (more…)
By JRS
DENIM – Curated by David Rimanelli
I once asked shuttle loomer and denim aficionado Matt Weintraub to explain, in as few words as possible, what was behind the complex mystique fueling the denim craze. He wrote me, “I prefer my denim raw, thick, and selvage. Raw means the denim has not been pre-distressed. It’s going to get beat up over time. Every crease, bend, and crinkle is going to reflect your personal story. Whiskers will build, honeycombs will form, and edges will wear. But this is exactly as it should be, as each fade and tear will remind you of where you’ve been.” (more…)
François Pinault with the architect Tadao Ando on the Grand Canal. Photo: Graziano Arici
At the entrance to the city of Venice, parting the waters between the Giudecca and the Grand Canal like a ship’s prow, is the Dogana di Mare, the Sea Custom House from 1677. The Dogana was the port of entry policing the lucrative trade from the Silk Road of exotic cargo from the Orient and a beacon of medieval power, like the Lighthouse of ancient Alexandria. Long neglected, this crumbling decaying watchtower reclaimed attention when it was sought by the Guggenheim Foundation,which with Zaha Hadid as architect, coveted its premises to host its own collection. But in the end, Venice favoured François Pinault’s plans, who, having dropped the Île Seguin project on the Seine, was looking for a second home for his private collections, already installed in the Palazzo Grassi across the canal. (more…)
By Michelle Cheung
I went uptown on what seemed like the coldest day this winter to find out exactly what it is that Tino Sehgal is doing as part of the museum’s 50th Anniversary celebration. You will not find any photographic or videographic evidence of Tino Sehgal’s latest exhibition at the Guggenheim Museum in New York but, trust me, I saw it and it is there. His latest mise-en-scéne promises to yet again push the boundaries of artwork through performance and participation. After going through his highly personal exhibition, I can attest that this London-born, Berlin-based artist has kept his promise. We, as spectators and participants, go with zero expectations, not even knowing the title of his piece, and leave with an invaluable experience. Any prior knowledge of his work will just taint one’s takeaway, and this is why I hesitate to say more. The existentialist in anyone will find inspiration and meaning in his work. If you can take my word for it, then you should stop reading this now.
By JRS
Joseph Ari Aloi, aka JK5. Photo by Bryce Ward.
The early twentieth-century house stands like a beacon in the middle of the block on a quiet Fort Greene, Brooklyn street. Ornate cast-iron columns elucidate austere architectural integrity. Shadowing the archetypal structure, a mass of concrete, glass, and, undoubtedly, new stainless steel appliances for marketing brokers to crow about in the Sunday real estate section of the Times lurches upward out of the earth, seemingly to overpower its predecessor. I ask my host if he’s ever seen the film Up. He laughs and nods, saying that he watched it the previous night. His glance travels across the rubble-strewn lot with a look sentimental despondency before it dies on a piece of modern machinery; he’s an old soul in a young and intricately adorned body, which he refers to as his “Jedi Knight-flight suit.”
Joseph Ari Aloi, aka JK5, is a modern-day Baudelaire; a strange flower offering a vestige of color in a barren and cragged winter field. When he speaks directly to you, it’s nearly impossible to break the gaze of his Husky-esque eyes, fearing one sidelong glance will deter this fiercely unique conversation. It seems quite possible that no one has ever strung together a sentence in such a beautifully congenital and elaborate web. Perhaps that’s what makes discussing his art in close-cropped, minute detail such an undertaking. When it comes to his work, he’s as articulate as he is loquacious. (more…)
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