David Rimanelli

  • diary December 01, 2004

    Cruz Control

    Miami

    The grand annual party thrown by queen-bee Miami collector Rosa de la Cruz and her husband, Carlos, on Tuesday marked the unofficial first night of the third Art Basel Miami Beach fair. Arriving on a late-afternoon flight, I opted for a shower and a meal of M&Ms in my hotel room, though pre-Rosa dinner options were legion. New York dealer Barbara Gladstone fêted her star artist with a family affair one collector described as a “bar mitzvah for Richard.” The occasion: the display at the Rubell Family Collection infelicitously titled “American Dream: Collecting Richard Prince for 27 Years.” But

  • SITE Sante Fe

    Curator Robert Storr’s title for the Fifth International SITE Santa Fe Biennial— “Disparities and Deformations: Our Grotesque”—has promise. The grotesque belongs to quotidian life no less than to the history of art (more so, I believe), and Storr’s exhibition potentially revives the now antique avant-gardist position that the territorial borders between lived and aesthetic experience might, even for an instant, be erased; that the flux and reflux of grotesquerie could circulate freely between discrete art objects and the Lebenswelt of those who regard them. Could art attain a measure of relevance

  • Pop Life: Los Super Elegantes

    The scene: downtown Los Angeles, summer 2002. Milena Muzquiz and Martiniano Lopez-Crozet, aka Los Super Elegantes, are crashing the VIP opening of the Warhol retrospective at the Museum of Contemporary Art. Lopez-Crozet has a hairdresser friend who’s styling models that are supposed to dance around the dinner and “make it look like the Factory.” “We go in the service entrance pretending to be hairdressers too,” Muzquiz relates. “We’re given these wristbands, which Marti and I assume signify we’re hairdressers. So we take them off and become regular guests and get some champagne. We’re socializing;

  • East Village USA

    Opening at the New Museum’s temporary Chelsea location, this survey outlines counterculture antecedents and attempts to encompass the full spectrum of Alphabet City with more than eighty artists, from avatars of graffiti art and punk expressionism to pencil-sharpening practitioners of the neo-geo and “Pictures” typology.

    The East Village scene of the early ’80s—a roiling stew pot of artistic endeavors and a cesspool of degradation, intentional or otherwise—still exerts a powerful hold on the imagination of those who lived through its glories and excesses and those born circa 1985, the year Carlo McCormick declared the whole shebang dead in the East Village Eye. Opening at the New Museum’s temporary Chelsea location, this survey outlines counterculture antecedents and attempts to encompass the full spectrum of Alphabet City with more than eighty artists, from avatars of graffiti art and punk expressionism to

  • Timothy Greenfield-Sanders

    IN 1990, I DID A FEATURE on ’80s-era gay-porn idol Jeff Stryker for Interview magazine, where former Artforum editor Ingrid Sischy had recently taken the helm. I had pitched a story on Stryker—and also one on Porsche Lynn, a star of the straight adult-film industry at the time—and the idea was received with considerable enthusiasm. I met Stryker at a West Hollywood bistro. The substance of our conversation, to the extent that I can remember it, was exceedingly banal: Mr. Stryker seemed unwilling or incapable of providing any deep insights into his chosen career, or even some titillating details,

  • Kai Althoff

    Kai Althoff’s career seemed to take off in a big way, at least in New York, after his 2001 exhibition at Anton Kern Gallery. In 2002, a suite of watercolors was exhibited to great acclaim in Laura Hoptman’s “Drawing Now: Eight Propositions,” at the Museum of Modern Art. With the exception of a passel of photographs and one offbeat sculpture at Kern (an agglomeration of two chairs and a sword), both spotlights on this hitherto relatively obscure German artist—obscure stateside, that is—gave the impression that his métier was painting and works on paper. Nicholas Baume, curator of the Institute

  • Sean Landers

    This show includes about eighty paintings, works on paper, videos, and sculptures. Although the catalogue is the first monograph on Landers, it’s rather more like an artist’s book: Landers has selected the images and made a collage of his own texts.

    Sean Landers was one of the avatars of early-’90s “abject” or “loser” art. His handwritten “diary” titled [sic], penned in 1995, remains a cult classic, standing out for its humor and a quality of honesty that was truly cringe inducing. In the decade since, he has continued to explore the ups and downs of artistic success. This show includes about eighty paintings, works on paper, videos, and sculptures. Although the catalogue is the first monograph on Landers, it’s rather more like an artist’s book: Landers has selected the images and made a collage of his own texts. It also includes a conversation

  • David Rimanelli on giving his class homework

    FOR THE PAST TWO YEARS I have given “Make Your Own Nan Goldin” as an assignment to the undergrads in my “Contemporary Art” survey course at New York University’s Steinhardt School. At the beginning of the semester I juxtaposed two contemporaneous and archetypal photographic series of the late ’70s and early ’80s, Goldin’s Ballad of Sexual Dependency and Cindy Sherman’s “Untitled Film Stills.” The emphasis on Goldin and Sherman derived in part from my impression that these artists were familiar to even the greenest (or most blinkered) BFA candidates, whereas Jeff Wall or Richard Prince weren’t

  • The Big Nothing

    One of Nietzsche’s most famous apothegms goes something like this: Don’t stare too long into the abyss or the abyss might stare back into you.

    One of Nietzsche’s most famous apothegms goes something like this: Don’t stare too long into the abyss or the abyss might stare back into you. The curators of “The Big Nothing” remain unfazed, and their show expands to thirty-six venues in the City of Brotherly Love, including the Philadelphia Museum of Art, with its legendary Duchamp collection. Focusing on the “driving ideas of modern and contemporary art, nothingness and negation,” the exhibition features such vacuous classics as Artschwager, Warhol, and Klein, as well as a

  • Louise Lawler

    Renowned for her photographs of the arrangements of paintings and other artworks, Louise Lawler can always be counted on for witty juxtapositions and unexpectedly lovely, even poignant images created within the context of the institutional discourse on art.

    Renowned for her photographs of the arrangements of paintings and other artworks, Louise Lawler can always be counted on for witty juxtapositions and unexpectedly lovely, even poignant images created within the context of the institutional discourse on art. For the artist’s first retrospective, chief curator Philipp Kaiser has brought together some fifty prints from the past twenty-four years. New pictures are also in the offing, photographed in the host museum, at the Kunstmuseum Basel, and at the Art Basel fair. The catalogue, designed by Lawler, includes essays by

  • Cody Choi

    When Cody Choi moved from Seoul to Los Angeles at age twenty-two, he experienced a particularly painful and protracted form of homesickness: Speaking poor English and ill at ease in the radically different social milieu, the artist suffered from frequent nausea. Pepto-Bismol, his preferred antidote—he consumed as much as a bottle a day—became the material of his first significant work: replicas of clichéd masterpieces like Rodin’s Thinker and the Venus de Milo, all made out of toilet paper soaked in the sick pink, over-the-counter gastrointestinal medication. In the late ’90s, he shifted from

  • John Waters

    “Change of life”? Surely it’s not a question of menopause for filmmaker and, since the early ’90s, artist John Waters, but the louche suggestion of this exhibition’s subtitle perfectly suits the sensibility of the director of Female Trouble and Desperate Living.

    “Change of life”? Surely it’s not a question of menopause for filmmaker and, since the early ’90s, artist John Waters, but the louche suggestion of this exhibition’s subtitle perfectly suits the sensibility of the director of Female Trouble and Desperate Living. Juxtaposition remains at the core of his oeuvre, as in Edith Tells Off Katherine Hepburn, Lana Backwards, or Movie Star Jesus. Certain works go further in their investigation of inescapable ickiness, e.g., Twelve Assholes and a Dirty Foot. The show includes seventy-six photographs and five

  • Julian Schnabel

    While Schnabel lately seems omnipresent in the media, a serious consideration of his art has thus far been lacking.

    The Schirn Kunsthalle is giving Julian Schnabel a retrospective covering the past twenty-five years and comprising over fifty paintings, many of them very big. While the artist lately seems omnipresent in the media, a serious consideration of his art has thus far been lacking. Did the ’80s begin with Schnabel’s first solo painting show at Mary Boone Gallery in 1979? Is the artist’s real future in Hollywood? Catalogue essayists Max Hollein, Robert Fleck, Alison Gingeras, Ingrid Pfeiffer, Kevin Power, and Maria de Corral also attempt to put Schnabel in context.

  • British Pop Art of the 1960s

    Pop art is usually regarded as an especially American phenomenon, but a British critic, Lawrence Alloway, coined the term, and several British artists of the ’50s (e.g., Richard Hamilton and Eduardo Paolozzi) antedate the US efflorescence.

    Pop art is usually regarded as an especially American phenomenon, but a British critic, Lawrence Alloway, coined the term, and several British artists of the ’50s (e.g., Richard Hamilton and Eduardo Paolozzi) antedate the US efflorescence. This exhibition includes some sixty sculptures and mostly large-scale paintings, by eighteen artists who run the gamut from the famous (Allen Jones, Patrick Caulfield, Peter Blake) to the fairly obscure (Colin Self, Gerald Laing, and the delicious Pauline Boty, whose canvases are startlingly prescient with

  • David Rimanelli

    1 Felix Gmelin, Farbtest, Die Rote Fahne II (Color Test, The Red Flag II; “Delays and Revolutions,” Venice Biennale) Time travel, 2002 to 1968. Gmelin juxtaposed two small-scale, rather intimate projections: one of his father participating in a revolutionary action in Berlin in February 1968 as one of several runners carrying a red flag through the streets and the other a re-creation of the event which the artist staged in Stockholm last year. The action in Berlin culminated with one of the protestors, having gained access to the town hall, emerging with the flag on a balcony; Gmelin’s replay

  • David Rimanelli on John Waters and Bruce Hainley

    CERTAIN PEOPLE ARE SQUEAMISH about the topic of sex even if they are actually having gross Sadean heaps of it; certain others are unabashed, brazen potty mouths and porn junkies even if their personal lives run more to Cistercian monasticism than to Xaviera Hollander’s Puerto Rican vacation. Certain people are ravenous for any scraps of tittle-tattle they can unearth about the sex lives of their friends and neighbors, Pablo Picasso and Marie-Thérèse Walther, Tom Cruise and Penélope Cruz; certain others remain tranquilly or passionately uninterested in the sex lives of anybody ever, always and

  • Vanessa Beecroft

    Vanessa Beecroft’s early renown coincided with the art world’s fascination with fashion (or was it the other way around?).

    Vanessa Beecroft’s early renown coincided with the art world’s fascination with fashion (or was it the other way around?). Her 1998 Guggenheim performance consisted of a phalanx of achingly skinny models clad only in Gucci bikinis and very high heels; one model was stark naked. Beecroft then reprised the standing-in-formation routine with honest-to-goodness US Navy SEALs. Fashion and fascism? A recent New Yorker profile of the artist expanded on her own eating disorders, providing yet another interpretive wrinkle. Curated by Marcella Beccaria, this is Beecroft’s first retrospective, and along

  • OUTLOOK International Art Exhibition

    Fast on the heels of the Venice Biennale comes “OUTLOOK,” curated by Christos M. Joachimides, a veteran impresario of such ’80s extravaganzas as “A New Spirit in Painting” and “Zeitgeist.”

    Fast on the heels of the Venice Biennale comes “OUTLOOK,” curated by Christos M. Joachimides, a veteran impresario of such ’80s extravaganzas as “A New Spirit in Painting” and “Zeitgeist.” The show dilates on four themes: Strong Images, Critical Viewpoints, Emerging Peripheries, and The Athens Effect—which doesn’t tell you much, although it does sound very right now/yesterday. Some eighty artists from around the globe in various (all?) media; very eclectic—Basquiat and John Bock, Ruscha and Tobias Rehberger. Catalogue texts by Deputy Artistic Director Yorgos Tzirtzilakis, Daniel Birnbaum, Boris

  • John Currin

    What is “normal” love? Mom and dad’s? Teen sweethearts? God? Your identification with certain characters from the soaps? From Art History 101? Is it the way you feel about your favorite underwear? This earlyish midcareer retrospective of paintings by John Currin provides ample material for the elaboration of these questions; authorities ranging from Saint Paul to Penthouse Letters provide some answers.

    The exhibition opens with the middle-aged-woman paintings that first earned Currin a particular notoriety in the early ’90s. No discussion of these works should omit Kim Levin’s admonishment

  • Larry Clark

    When I walked into “punk Picasso,” Larry Clark’s first New York gallery exhibition in several years, I thought I had entered a Conceptual-art installation. Here were many juxtapositions of photos and texts, photos and photos, texts and texts, texts and heroin wrappers (the latter artfully arrayed à la Richard Tuttle), as well as related objects, e.g., Untitled (Severed head of ‘Vincent’ from Teenage Caveman), 2001. This surfeit of information—kind of like Hans Haacke’s, or Hanne Darboven’s, or Gerhard Richter’s, but not quite—transmitted an overriding impression that here was lots of important