Peter Nagy

  • passages July 22, 2015

    Mrinalini Mukherjee (1949–2015)

    HER NAME WAS A TONGUE TWISTER, but everyone knew Mrinalini Mukherjee as Dillu, and that captured her spirit. I first met her at the opening of a show of her ceramic sculptures at the Vadehra Art Gallery in New Delhi in 1997. I don’t remember how, but shortly afterward I was in the habit of hanging out with her and a group of artists, all of us a generation or two behind her in age. But she always seemed to be the youngest of the lot. She cooked Bengali dinners, and we imbibed Kingfisher beers and the sickly sweet rum known as Old Monk, trading gossip and opinions on art. Well traveled and erudite,

  • Dual Nature

    EVEN IN THE MIDST OF THE THRILL OF IT ALL, it was apparent that two contingencies—one demographic, the other economic—laid the groundwork for the making of the “East Village Art Scene.” First, the postwar baby boom, which peaked in 1959, led to an outpouring of art-school grads in the early ’80s. Sometimes it seems as though a majority of my generation, having grown up in the fertile ’60s, pursued careers in the creative arts, and the New York art world simply couldn’t accommodate this glut of brash, snot-nosed artists eager to exhibit their goods, and consequently burst at the seams. Second,