reviews

  • James Rosenquist, Coenties Slip Studio, 1961, oil on canvas and shaped hardboard, 34 × 43".

    James Rosenquist, Coenties Slip Studio, 1961, oil on canvas and shaped hardboard, 34 × 43".

    James Rosenquist

    Galerie Thaddaeus Ropac | London

    Has there been a more falsely idealized decade than the 1960s? Mass consumerism, the collapse of “high” and “low” art, celebrity worship: All seem a prelude to today’s blank monoculture. Pop art trademarked the zeitgeist with an instant visual vocabulary—from Andy Warhol’s soup cans to Roy Lichtenstein’s comic-strip teardrops—endlessly recycled in the amnesiac twenty-first century.

    James Rosenquist (1933–2017) was a jolting outlier. Though he ran with the same New York crowd as Robert Rauschenberg and Warhol (who once called Rosenquist his favorite artist), he’s eluded the same level of “brand”

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  • Maria Pininska-Beres, Window in Spring, 1976, plywood, canvas, cotton, acrylic, 57 1⁄8 × 81 1⁄8 × 20 7⁄8".

    Maria Pininska-Beres, Window in Spring, 1976, plywood, canvas, cotton, acrylic, 57 1⁄8 × 81 1⁄8 × 20 7⁄8".

    Maria Pininska-Beres

    The Approach

    “A window view is not the real thing,” Maria Pinińska-Bereś (1931–1999) wrote in 1994, at a time when she was prevented by illness from “actively communing” with the outdoors. In the same text, she remembers one summer when she “escaped from the ‘cage’ of the garden” and “pressed herself into the moss, wallowing in it, moaning in ecstasy.” These reflections find more immediately accessible form in two works chronologically bookending “Living Pink,” the first presentation of the artist’s work outside her native Poland. The show comprised a total of nine pieces spanning mixed-media performance

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  • Moyra Davey, i confess, 2019, HD video, color, sound, 56 minutes 46 seconds.

    Moyra Davey, i confess, 2019, HD video, color, sound, 56 minutes 46 seconds.

    Moyra Davey

    greengrassi

    It’s unusual to find oneself on a London evening immersed in French Canadian politics of the 1960s and ’70s, but this was where Moyra Davey’s new film, i confess, 2019, placed me. I felt like I had been jettisoned from the streets of Kennington back to Ottawa, where I spent my childhood, or to Montreal, where Davey spent hers. These cities are shaped by conflicts of inheritance, origin, ownership, identity, and language—primarily French and/or/versus English. Much of i confess (which takes its title from Alfred Hitchcock’s 1953 film of the same name) is filmed, like many of Davey’s works, inside

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