Suzanne Hudson

  • “Pioneering Modern Painting: Cézanne and Pissarro, 1865–1885”

    Displacing the monographic privileging of the solitary genius in favor of fraternal pairings, MoMA is following the success of “Matisse Picasso” with a show devoted to the twenty-year artistic relationship between Cézanne and Pissarro. The exhibition (organized by the latter’s great-grandson, now a MoMA curator) offers as evidence of dialogic contact and mutual response some eighty-five paintings and eight drawings—portraits, self-portraits, still lifes, and landscapes, some of which were made when the artists worked side by side in the regions of Pontoise and Auvers.

  • Joan Snyder

    For the last three and a half decades, Joan Snyder has fused process (whether desultory or earnest) with politics, and the resulting works, nearly thirty of which are on view for this survey at the Jewish Museum, have made Snyder a doyenne of feminist painting and an increasingly likely subject for art-historical canonization. Betraying the marks of their making, Snyder’s best works play the materiality of language against its signifying possibilities in gestures that are by turns surprisingly intimate and barbarously significant. Her graphic utterances—most recently

  • Richard Tuttle

    In his great antifoundational, pragmatist essay “How to Make Our Ideas Clear” (1878), C. S. Peirce sought to differentiate clarity from veracity. His point in so doing was to show that a workable comprehension of reality was best arrived at through careful attentiveness rather than via any “royal road to logic,” which would at best occlude real thought and at worst offer up hypotheses in the form of false—if ornamental—truths. For Peirce, being in the world and engaging with its material realities was, in fact, the only way to be. And for a conception of an external object to similarly become

  • Susan Rothenberg

    Modernism was riddled by searches for origins, but it was also marked by near-fatal fixations with real or imagined ends. Pace Hegel, T. J. Clark has suggested that “every modernism has to have its own proximate Black Square.” But Susan Rothenberg would probably substitute Lascaux for Malevich, a nod to a beginning that was already terminal, marked by a conflicting admixture of prolepsis and hindsight that also finds form in the exhibition structure of the retrospective.

    Still, “Susan Rothenberg: Drawings 1974–2004” aimed to chart the progress of the artist’s career through more than seventy

  • Kim Fisher

    Writing in 1967, at the height of Minimalism, Clement Greenberg worried that the aesthetic field had devolved into a diffuse and unmotivated panorama of “non-art” and design, a pernicious development that the then-embattled critic understood as an unmitigated and unilateral abjuration of tradition. Commensurate with a descent of advanced art into the popular, Minimalism for Greenberg precipitated a situation in which anything could become readable as art, if not necessarily (or likely) good art. The name he gave this phenomenon was “novelty,” an ironic if elegiac reference to style, ephemeral

  • Jackson Pollock

    With this tightly focused show that brings together over forty “paintings on paper” for the first time since 1980, we have Pollock as consummate draftsman. Experimenting with watercolor, gouache, India ink, and crayon, the graphic Pollock examined in this exhibition is well worth another look.

    First there was Jackson Pollock, brooding and libidinal existential action painter, all grimace and sad cigarettes. Then came Clement Greenberg and Michael Fried's preternaturally modernist Pollock, who rubbed up against the performative Pollock of Allan Kaprow. This incarnation ceded, in turn, to the desublimated Pollock of Rosalind Krauss. Now, with this tightly focused show that brings together over forty “paintings on paper” for the first time since 1980, we'll have Pollock as consummate draftsman. Experimenting with watercolor, gouache, India ink, and crayon, the

  • Spencer Finch

    Henry David Thoreau famously admonished that we too often lead lives of “quiet desperation.” His remedy was to live deeply and reflexively, sucking life’s “marrow,” and, if need be, communing with the Walden woods in the relative seclusion of meditative if quixotic faux isolation (he was literally a stone’s throw from his nearest neighbors). For Emily Dickinson, another archetypal American recluse, a purposeful and startlingly conscious life was to be found within the walls of her Amherst, Massachusetts, birthplace. In fifty-five years she rarely ventured out, communicating chiefly by means of

  • Chris Burden

    Of all the art clamoring for attention in New York this fall, the most incisively current was a thing of the past. Chris Burden’s early work has a purchase on the contemporary in ways that are both revealing and overdetermined, making unmistakably clear that the history we thought we had transcended is still the long present in which we are mired. Conceived against a backdrop of inept and insidious foreign policy in Vietnam and the ceaseless televisual spectacle its insurrections set in motion, Burden’s work finds an eerie analogue in the sectarian violence of our own era of equivocation bereft

  • Fred Wilson

    Already in the early ’90s, certain critics were balking at Fred Wilson’s museum interventions and his peculiar brand of materialist historicism, levying charges that the artist’s finger-pointing politics were not only too overt but, worse still, passé. While some argued that Wilson preached to a choir of self-congratulatory art world impresarios who surely knew better than to champion whitewashed narratives of art, or to revel in the power of institutions apart from that bestowed in inverse relation to the sanctimoniousness of their critique, Wilson’s work nevertheless raised discomfiting

  • Yang Fudong

    In the second installment of his ongoing film pentalogy Seven Intellectuals in Bamboo Forest, Yang Fudong’s latter-day sages forsake the Taoist natural paradise of Yellow Mountain for a seductively quotidian Shanghai apartment complex as they divine their place in an emergent global economy.

    In the second installment of his ongoing film pentalogy Seven Intellectuals in Bamboo Forest, Yang Fudong’s latter-day sages forsake the Taoist natural paradise of Yellow Mountain for a seductively quotidian Shanghai apartment complex as they divine their place in an emergent global economy. Premiering in Chicago, the film will be screened alongside part 1 of the series and three other works, among them his 2002 feature film An Estranged Paradise. Taken together, they should offer a sustained panorama of the longings of an artist who is part traditional lyricist evoking the enigmatic subtlety

  • Byron Kim

    Byron Kim’s exquisitely subjective monochromes are suspended between the reflective, heady abstraction of Reinhardt, Marden, and Rothko and the deft, politically incisive Conceptualism of Felix Gonzalez-Torres and Glenn Ligon.

    Byron Kim’s exquisitely subjective monochromes are suspended between the reflective, heady abstraction of Reinhardt, Marden, and Rothko and the deft, politically incisive Conceptualism of Felix Gonzalez-Torres and Glenn Ligon. Alternately indexing skin, Korean celadon pottery, a station wagon, and even a Brooklyn public pool, his paintings will be shown to great effect in his first major solo museum exhibition. Against the BAM’s neo-brutalist architecture, the hazy atmospheric surface effects of these thirty-two works should betray an unbearable lightness of being.

  • Faces in the Crowd

    Refusing a formalist privileging of abstraction and autonomy, the artists constellated here—a who’s who from Picasso to Heartfield, Warhol to Sherman—have recourse to the figure.

    Like a good modernist, this show starts squarely with Manet, but like an even better deconstructionist, its roughly sixty works in various media propose alternate histories of this well-traversed terrain. Refusing a formalist privileging of abstraction and autonomy, the artists constellated here—a who’s who from Picasso to Heartfield, Warhol to Sherman—have recourse to the figure. A comprehensive catalogue-cum-anthology penned by such contributors as Ester Coen, Charles Harrison, Jill Lloyd, Robert Storr, and exhibiting artist Jeff Wall accompanies the show. An imaging of the social in many

  • “Establishing Shot”

    In filmic terms, “establishing shot” refers to the opening sequence of a scene, the images that spatially orient the audience and anchor subsequent events. Often a wide shot, or literally a long shot, it sets the location, characters, and mood of what follows, thus becoming a crucial—if often stymied (intentionally or otherwise)—point of narrative reference. At once an incipient lexicon of possibilities and a limit set within which such possibilities might arise, the singular, presumably intelligible establishing shot is really only legible within the resultant narrative sequence. Thus it often

  • “The Art of Science”

    In light of recent art-historical obsessions with technology, information theory, vision, and modes of attention—not to mention our acute cultural preoccupation with all things scientific—it is perhaps unsurprising that the ICP has devoted a number of shows to such topical themes. Eugenics, genetics, and the discovery of DNA all figured prominently in past installments of its five-show series “Imaging the Future: The Intersection of Science, Technology, and Photography,” curated by Carol Squiers. Even so, this final show managed to astonish in a way that its predecessors did not. Tucked away in

  • Roni Horn

    For Roni Horn’s show, over eighty photographs of the eponymous river in her ongoing Some Thames are installed in a lateral sequence coursing through the Art Institute’s public spaces (collection and exhibition galleries) and private recesses (the library and administrative offices).

    For Roni Horn’s show, over eighty photographs of the eponymous river in her ongoing Some Thames are installed in a lateral sequence coursing through the Art Institute’s public spaces (collection and exhibition galleries) and private recesses (the library and administrative offices). On view in its entirety for the first time in the US, the series is accompanied by Saying Water, Horn’s slide show and performance comprising visual and historical anecdotes relating to the Thames. Here, the dark surface opacity of Some Thames’s mutable, oily material is penetrated by the