James Meyer

  • Alice Aycock

    Best known for such outdoor projects as Maze, 1972, and A Simple Network of Underground Wells and Tunnels, 1975, Alice Aycock is also a committed draftsman who has produced an extensive corpus of drawings. More than simply plans for projects, Aycock’s drawings are works in their own right, fantasies on paper that echo the history of visionary design, stretching back to Piranesi and Boullée. At the same time, they exemplify their own moment, announcing the shift from the phenomenological environment of Minimalism to a metaphorized architecture or earthwork. The development of land art and built

  • Jo Baer

    The early work of Jo Baer is often described as Minimalist. Featured in group shows with pieces by Donald Judd, Dan Flavin, and Robert Morris throughout the ’60s, her geometric canvases (presented singly, in serial pairs, or diptychs) were seen as pictorial counterparts to the Minimal object. Not everyone subscribed to this characterization of Baer’s work, least of all the Minimalists themselves, who held radically divergent views of painting. Judd and Flavin took the most extreme position, rejecting the medium out of hand for its implicit illusionism, its suggestion of a rational consciousness

  • “Reconsidering the Object of Art, 1965–1973”

    Seemingly fixated on the ’60s, artists have lately resuscitated the idioms of Pop, scatter art, identity-based performance and activism, various modes of Conceptualism, not to mention the serial syntax of Minimalism; even earth art and the early manifestations of institutional critique live on in contemporary explorations of site. Scholarship has also turned to that decade, as graduate art-history students rush to write dissertations historicizing the practices their professors once addressed freshly as critics. “Reconsidering the Object of Art: 1965-1975” is a key episode in the ’90s assimilation


    In early 1989, I attended a conference on the subject of art and AIDS at Ohio State University. A number of compelling figures were present in that Columbus auditorium that gray February weekend, but one made a particular impression on me: Gregg Bordowitz. From the moment he began to discuss strategies of contemporary cultural activism, which he outlined with a kind of breathtaking clarity, I knew I was in the presence of a serious thinker—an impression that has only increased over the years.

    From the beginning, Bordowitz’s work has been characterized by an extraordinary adaptability and

  • Dan Flavin

    The recent exhibitions at the Guggenheim SoHo and Dia together comprised a good overview of Dan Flavin’s activity from the early ’60s to the late ’80s. While Dia’s presentation of its Flavin holdings included several remarkable works—numerous versions of his “monuments” for V. Tatlin; 1964–68, two rooms of corner works in different hues; and the all-red monument 4 those who have been killed in ambush (to P. K. who reminded me about death), 1966, that once dominated the back room of Max’s Kansas City where Robert Smithson and Andy Warhol held court—the Guggenheim installation, culled from the