Spring
The nonagenarian Katz is an acquired taste. His bold colouring and reduced forms are perfect for sore American eyes trained on advertising and pop art. To them, such habitual simplicity might look like an unpretentious virtue.
Should flower arrangements need such an initiation? Katz’s pictures of willow and daffodils are pleasant but trivial. The man’s a legend, granted – think Hockney and his later landscapes – but this emperor’s clothes have moth holes.
notes and notices are short and curt exhibition reviews. Read more:
A police procedural turns into a drinking game of Foucauldian power analysis.
Hello, Portrait!
Looking at Xie’s portraits is a little like wearing a virtual reality headset over only one eye.
Place Revisited
One suspects the gallery of insider trading.
Holding Places
The illusion is as good as complete.
Some May Work as Symbols: Art Made in Brazil, 1950s–70s
Art history can catch modernity in splitting from the past and thus from itself.
Me, Us and Dogs
Close up, Petersen’s innocents today conjure ideas of redneck resistance. At scale, of state-marketed utopia. The middle ground is envy.
