The following guide to museum shows currently on view is compiled from Artforum’s three-times-yearly exhibition preview. Subscribe now to begin a year of Artforum—the world’s leading magazine of contemporary art. You’ll get all three big preview issues, featuring Artforum’s comprehensive advance roundups of the shows to see each season around the globe.
The ghosts of Herman Melville and Walt Whitman haunt Coenties Slip, an inlet near the Brooklyn Bridge in Lower Manhattan, where for a period of time in the 1950s and ’60s a community of artists, filmmakers, and writers livedsometimes illegally, without heat or waterand worked in ramshackle warehouses (Ellsworth Kelly would drop in on Agnes Martin to eat her homemade muffins and talk art). The Menil’s compact exhibition of twenty-seven works by Chryssa, Robert Indiana, Kelly, Martin, Lenore Tawney, and Jack Youngerman will reflect the artists’ rangefrom Martin’s pared-down abstractions to a large-scale linen-and-silk weaving by Tawneyand rapport. While these renowned figures have enjoyed numerous solo exhibitions, the last show that focused on the group as a whole was at Pace Gallery in New York in 1993. Martin spoke of the slip as existing somehow outside the city, in nature. “Between Land and Sea” celebrates this place aparta fertile if humble ground for modernism.
Until the middle of the twentieth century, very few artists made their own booksand even now, only a handful think in the book format. However, numerous lavish or modest, limited- or trade-editioned books have been produced in collaboration with major artists. Many of the works in this exhibition represent the exquisitely constructed livre d’artiste first fostered by dealer-publishers in the early twentieth century; standing apart on conceptual and material grounds, and distanced from the deluxe portfolio traditions of printmaking, fine-press production, and the craft-driven arts of the book, are works by foundational figures such as Ilia Zdanevich (Iliazd), Ed Ruscha, Dieter Roth, and Fernand Léger. These artists brought conceptual engagement to their projects, thinking in terms of sequence, openings, framing, and the cultural semiotics of technology specific to the form of the book. The distinction between an artist-driven work and a publisher-initiated one remains vital in understanding the works in this field, and this exhibition, which includes important examples of both, should make clear where the greater interest liesand where most museums’ print collections fall short.
Deana Lawson once described her inspirations as ranging from leather-bound family albums and lace curtains to acrylic nails and the A train. Her large-format photographsmostly of strangers, many paired and in various stages of undressare classically composed and lavishly detailed. Some of Lawson’s subjects hail from her Brooklyn neighborhood, but an interest in family, community, and the African diaspora has taken the artist to the American South, Haiti, Jamaica, the Democratic Republic of the Congo, and Ethiopia. Lawson’s portraits (several of which will be concurrently on view in this year’s Whitney Biennial) are frequently characterized as “intimate.” Yet the particular access Lawson is granted does not exist solely where skin grazes skin or in the cramped quarters of a family’s studio apartment. Rather, the familiarity and affinity can be innate, even historical, persisting in the psyches of those separated by space and time but linked by collective knowledge and memory.
This twenty-three-artist, pointedly internationalist exhibition pivots around the notion of esprit décor, an idea posited by the curator’s designated muse, Marcel Broodthaers. The term encapsulated a politically critical engagement with interior spaceyet today’s “wall,” as the show’s room-size installations and smaller sculptures, paintings, photographs, and video works affirm, is a projective surface for anything from barbed commentary on globalization’s tilted playing field to melancholic cultural nostalgia. Alongside work by the razor-witted Belgian, expect to encounter Lucy McKenzie’s disjointed sculptural evocations of Adolf Loos’s architecture (Loos House, 2013), Nick Mauss’s painted-mirror room dividers inspired by the cryptic visions of modernist painter Florine Stettheimer (F. S. Interval II, 2014), Paul Sietsema’s filmic epic employing modeled domestic spaces connoting American and European imperialism (Empire, 2002), and Walid Raad’s incised, freestanding stretches of museum wall space, which consider the flattening effects of the Middle East’s nascent institutions on the art they house (Letters to the Reader, 2014). These walls, once questioned, talk.
Ever since the invention of this particular breed of dandy in the early nineteenth century, the flaneur has been the art world’s favorite visitor. Mobile, curious, omnipresent, and critically adept, the flaneur came to embodythrough the work of Baudelaire and other writersmodernity’s demands for an agile and nimble way of seeing art and the world at large. The Barnes Foundation, in a notable expansion of its historical purview, has assembled artworks stretching from the postwar era to today that were made with the flaneur’s most esteemed qualities in mind: alacrity, an openness to the public and social discourse, a focus on daily life, and a flair for performance. More than fifty acclaimed international artists working in various mediums will be represented, their contributions augmenting complementary works from the Barnes’s collection. In the spirit of flânerie, the show will go beyond the museum, with works presented on billboards and in the streets.
This show guides the viewer through three distinct environments: a cavern of crushed-amethyst athletic balls, an hourglass-filled gallery, and a Japanese Zen garden patrolled by a performer in the guise of its resident hermit-monk. In lieu of rocks, this figure tends to a garden of sculptures cast from everyday objects, which Daniel Arsham offers up like riddles for some future archaeologist to decipher. For these works, the artist forgoes the monotone grays of his earlier casts in favor of blue calcite, a startlingly vivid material Arsham began using only recently, following the correction of his color-blindness. This jolt of color effects the estrangement typically lent by historical distance, fostering a reading of the objects as apocryphal artifacts that must be negotiated within the Zen garden’s purposefully ahistorical terrain. The exhibition thus enacts a temporal suspension not unlike that of its eponymous timepiece, perpetually overturned.