Todd Alden


    Since much of his art and poetry was filled with black humor, it’s easy to imagine Marcel Broodthaers, were he still alive, relishing the irony of his first solo show in Russia coming at this moment in time. After all, he joined the Communist Party during World War II (he was expelled in 1951) and negotiated between a group of occupying artists and officials of the Palais des Beaux Arts, Brussels, in May 1968. Months later, Broodthaers created a fictional museum, which performed a pas de deux between culture and institutions.

  • Kynaston McShine. Photo: Marc Ohrem-Leclef  / @marcleclef.
    passages January 26, 2018

    Kynaston McShine (1935–2018)

    KYNASTON COULD BE A TENDER MAN of infinite jest or a fierce and intimidating personality, depending on the circumstances and the parties involved. He was ninety percent angel, ten percent devil.

    Well born in the West Indies, in Trinidad, Kynaston spoke with a distinct, posh British accent, and had the curious and occasional habit of using the royal “we.” He relished in the play of pomp and ceremony, addressing me, for example, with drawling emphasis on the first syllable of my surname: “Mister Awwwhl-den.” Sphinxlike and practiced in the arts of discretion, Kynaston cultivated airs of mystery