“Artists Sells Money at the Mint,” The Times-Picayune
What a deal. Artist Srdjan Loncar will sell you $1 million for $500. He’ll even throw in a golden briefcase to help you carry away the loot.
What a deal. Artist Srdjan Loncar will sell you $1 million for $500. He’ll even throw in a golden briefcase to help you carry away the loot.
As the nation’s largest art biennial plays out in New Orleans, we are again reminded of the complex and controversial nature of such a setting – one inseparable from the inconceivable events and aftermath of tragedy on such an epic scale. As the struggle to rebuild continues in New Orleans, many of the artists in Prospect 1 strive to put form to feeling within the troubling context of such a city. Artists like Luis Cruz Azaceta rise to the occasion, providing an insightful and engaging commentary through richly-layered pieces. In the installation, “Swept Away,” Azaceta offers an arresting personal panorama through sculpture, painting and photography.
Gourd shapes rendered in clay and still-life arrangements snapped before decay are found in “Strange Fruit,” an exhibition of sensuous works by potter Greg Kuharic and photographer David Halliday at La Motta Fine Art in Hartford.
DALE CHIHULY MUST have been a bad student! He was obviously not paying attention when his general science teacher was explaining to the class that glass was an inorganic amorphous solid. “Amorphous? Inorganic? How can that be?”
Four paintings in a series: A house lies skewed in the middle of an empty Street, its clapboards turned into undulating waves by the chaos of wind and water. A burly guy dressed in pleasure-club regalia offers a raised hand and a big smile, a second-line shout-out seeming to hang over his velvet fedora.
The commission voted Tuesday to reject Dawn DeDeaux’s proposed “Steps Home” art installation in the Chartres Street pedestrian mall next to Jackson Square as well as a proposal by satirical conceptual artists Tony Campbell and Matt Vis to embed 10 metal medallions in the Bourbon Street sidewalk.
It’s raining in New Orleans, and just before I set foot in Jacqueline Bishop’s studio, I’m looking at my shoes. I’m wiping them on the doormat, mostly because I don’t want to track mud inside, but because I’m wearing new suede boots and I want to see if, crossing the puddle-filled courtyard between her Garden District house and her studio, I’ve ruined them. That’s what I”m thinking about when I step over the threshold– shoes.
It is the first day of the second weekend of the New Orleans Jazz & Heritage Festival, and I am in my car with John Alexander. Like most of the music-loving tourists in town, he is dressed in jeans and sneakers and armed with a camera bag, but unlike them, and pretty much everybody else we both know, we are not headed in the direction of the fairgrounds.
Minimalism, despite its nomenclature, has been teaching us for decades that there is more to simplicity than meets the eye, even if what meets the eye is sometimes barely much of anything at all.