Curated by Barry Bergdoll, Corinne Bélier, and Marc Le Coeur

In his essay for the volume accompanying the Museum of Modern Art’s 1975 show “The Architecture of the École des Beaux-Arts,” Neil Levine sought to recover the “architectural legibility” of Henri Labrouste’s self-consciously precise drawings, which, Levine ruefully noted, had been “rarely unrolled and examined in detail.” This first solo exhibition in the United States of the challenging nineteenth-century French architect’s work is the occasion for unrolling them once again at moma, in a gathering of two hundred items: rarely seen drawings, photographs, models, and Labrouste’s own box of drafting tools. A catalogue with essays by each curator, as well as by Levine and David Van Zanten, will further illuminate the solecistic inventiveness of this student of the École who at once brilliantly articulated and subtly but forcefully undermined its classical orthodoxies. The exhibition debuted at the Cité de l’Architecture et du Patrimoine, Paris, where it remains on view through January 7.

— Edward Eigen

Curated by Massimiliano Gioni

1993 was the worst year of my life. I barely remember it. But the sheer variety of practices represented in this walk-through time capsule—with work by Alex Bag, Art Club 2000, Matthew Barney, Kathe Burkhart, Byron Kim, Gabriel Orozco, Elizabeth Peyton, Jason Rhoades, Julia Scher, et al.—calls to mind the expansiveness and excitement of the early 1990s in New York, when aestheticism and political engagement, oblique neo-Conceptualist gestures and florid post-Pop starmongering, all shared the art world’s stage on pretty much equal footing. “NYC 1993: Experimental Jet Set, Trash and No Star” (the title borrowed from a contemporaneous album by Sonic Youth) and its catalogue should bolster the burgeoning scholarly interest in the period, while reminding those of us who lived through it of the artworks we loved—and loved to hate—that year.

— David Rimanelli

Curated by Claire Gilman

One would think that with the recent upswing of interest in Pop art made by women, Giosetta Fioroni’s delicate distillations of visual culture would have become familiar to American audiences, yet somehow her glimmering quotations of movie-star glamour shots and wistful reiterations of family photos remain obscure. Perhaps Fioroni’s broad range is to blame: Her early drawings—playful investigations of the “graphic”—as well as her paintings, book projects, and films defy easy categorization. Luckily, this first solo exhibition of the artist’s work in North America will afford us a chance to examine her fascinating output, via one hundred works from the 1940s through the early ’00s. Curator Claire Gilman will author a catalogue essay, which, joined by a text from art historian Romy Golan and by translations of earlier writings on Fioroni, should help contextualize the work.

— Sarah K. Rich