Karen Rosenberg

  • Guy Ben-Ner

    The familiar figure of the camcorder-wielding dad might seem to be the unlikeliest of auteurs, but Israeli artist Guy Ben-Ner is one enviably cool father. For his video Moby Dick, 2000, shown at MoMA QNS last year, Ben-Ner enacted Melville’s seafaring epic in his kitchen with the aid of his then-six-year-old daughter, Elia, and an assortment of household props. The resulting silent movie was a brilliant piece of slapstick, linking the crustiest of narratives with the craftiest of cinematic devices. As they swing from the sink and hunt whales under the table, Ben-Ner and his daughter seem to be

  • Marc Handelman

    In “Warm White Blizzard,” his first New York solo show, Marc Handelman issued a direct challenge to Thomas Kinkade for the official title “Painter of Light.” According to his website, Kinkade is “America’s most collected living artist,” sold in malls all over the country and present in one out of every twenty American homes—which is to say that his works represent, for many Americans, an idea of how the perfect landscape painting should look. For Handleman, Kinkade is the bastard grandchild of nineteenth- century American landscape painters like Thomas Cole, Frederic Edwin Church, and Asher

  • An-My Lê

    War photographers have to a certain extent always staged their shots. Even the earliest known examples of the genre were contrived; American Civil War lensmen like Matthew Brady and Alexander Gardner weren’t above scattering a few cannonballs or moving bodies to more dramatic settings. As Susan Sontag tells it in Regarding the Pain of Others (2003), it wasn’t until the Vietnam War that we could be reasonably certain that photographs from the front weren’t setups: Images like the famous shot of children fleeing a napalm attack were simply too horrific to have been engineered, and the horrors