Fabrice Stroun

  • Steven Parrino, Bradley “The Beast” Field R.I.P., 1997, acrylic, glitter, and electrical tape on canvas, 33 3⁄8 × 58 1⁄4 × 54 3⁄8". © The Steven Parrino Estate.


    IN THE PAST YEAR, the art of the late Steven Parrino (1958–2005) has been on view in three different retrospectives. It was featured prominently in surveys of two other artists, Cady Noland at the Museum für Moderne Kunst in Frankfurt and Olivier Mosset at the Musée d’Art Moderne et Contemporain in Geneva. And for the first time in more than a decade, it was the subject of a comprehensive institutional presentation, held at Kunstmuseum Liechtenstein in Vaduz.

    In Frankfurt, a wide selection of Parrino’s “misshaped” and “bent” monochrome paintings functioned as a bridge between Noland’s dark,

  • Steven Parrino, Germs, 1994, enamel and graphite on vellum, 15 × 18 1⁄2".

    “Steven Parrino: Nihilism is Love”

    Curated by Friedemann Malsch and Fabian Flückiger

    Steven Parrino’s oft-repeated credo “Radicality comes from content and not necessarily form” led the artist to produce a wide variety of works across different media during his twenty-five-year career. Regrettably, his disparate legacy has been mostly reduced to a one-liner: the dandified, punk high formalism of his mis-stretched canvases. “Nihilism Is Love” will be Parrino’s first large-scale exhibition since a posthumous retrospective in 2006, which he had been partly overseeing before his untimely death at the age of forty-six the previous

  • Art Spiegelman, High Art Lowdown. From Artforum, December 1990.


    OVER THE YEARS, Artforum has published reviews of all types—laudatory or excoriating, lyrical or polemical—but only one has taken the form of a comic. That singular piece, authored by Art Spiegelman, appeared in the December 1990 issue of the magazine. Spiegelman’s task was to assess the controversial exhibition “High and Low: Modern Art and Popular Culture,” which had gone on view the preceding October at New York’s Museum of Modern Art, and, while he was not nearly as incensed as some commentators by curators Kirk Varnedoe and Adam Gopnik’s mixture of MoMA masterpieces and pop-cultural

  • View of John Armleder, “Too Much Is Not Enough, 2006, Kunstverein Hannover, Germany. Photo: Raimund Zakowski.


    John Armleder’s art never looks quite like itself. Drawing on what he calls a supermarket of forms, the artist, over the course of a forty-five-year career, has produced works that could pass for Suprematist paintings, Minimalist sculptures, high-design furnishings, and any number of other easily categorized objects—albeit wryly reoriented, physically or conceptually, as if to delay the moment of recognition. Indeed, sometimes his art isn’t itself, as in his sprawling exhibitions that liberally incorporate others’ works. Yet such tactics speak less to strategies of reference or appropriation than to Armleder’s conviction that agency—of both artist and audience—is activated precisely in this ever more subtle process of self-differentiation. In the gap between the thing as such and the thing as type, between the specific and the general, Armleder’s work finds room to move, instigating the singular mode of participation that he has been developing since his early engagements with Fluxus. Here, critic and curator Fabrice Stroun talks to the artist about a practice that no one, not even Armleder, has been able to pin down.

    FABRICE STROUN: Over the years, numerous labels have been applied to your work: Fluxus, citationism, neo-geo, and many more, each focusing on a different facet of your practice. Some commentators have even pegged you as a forerunner of the “relational art” and design-as-art moment. To what do you attribute your work’s capacity to resonate with such different, and sometimes even contradictory, contexts of reception?

    JOHN ARMLEDER: I’ve actually always liked it when my work is included in some new movement, even if the label is restrictive and even if the movement itself is just a fad, because the

  • Jack Goldstein, Untitled, 1983, acrylic on canvas, 120 x 95".

    Jack Goldstein

    For decades, the reception of Jack Goldstein’s work has followed a cyclical pattern—a fitting pattern, perhaps, for a man who staged his own disappearance in various ways throughout his life.

    For decades, the reception of Jack Goldstein’s work has followed a cyclical pattern, whereby the complexity and wide-ranging influence of the artist’s practice snap into focus every few years, only to fade back into relative obscurity soon thereafter—a fitting pattern, perhaps, for a man who staged his own disappearance in various ways throughout his life. Starting as a post-Minimal sculptor based in Los Angeles during the early 1970s, Goldstein quickly moved into performances and films. The latter were initially made within the confines of his studio but by 1973 incorporated