Memorial for intersections #2 (2013) is a minimalist, black metallic structure that contains the brightly colored translucent circles, triangles, rectangles, and squares that originally were presented in Pica’s performance work A ? B ? C (2013). When read as A intersection B intersection C, this piece references the fact that, during the last dictatorship in Argentina (1976–83), the military junta forbade Venn diagrams, and the related concept of intersection, from being taught in elementary schools, because they were viewed as potentially subversive. In A ? B ? C , Pica invited performers to manipulate translucent, colored Perspex shapes, producing new configurations that used the idea of intersection to reimagine collaboration and community. This work enacts the very role that its title suggests, asking how a performance can become a sculpture. The structure transforms the original human performative gestures into cold, stylized frames that indeed memorialize something that was once living. If most memorials are monuments—that is, embedded in rich substrata of symbolic references—then Memorials for intersections are delicate and literal tributes to the truisms of math. Borrowing from minimalist and constructivist traditions, the memorials are simple, almost sophomoric, in the directness of their shapes and colors. While fixed in place, the transparent geometric panels hanging on the frame shift in tone throughout the day, responding to changes in light and reverberating with the live actions that led to their conception.
Amalia Pica describes herself as an outsider, in the sense that she is an Argentine artist living and working in an art world that is still largely dominated by the same nations that colonized the globe centuries ago. But Pica is not the kind of outsider who stands by sullenly and criticizes; she’s more like the quirky character spouting wit and wisdom from the peripheries of the stage. Her works often engage with the idea of being out of place and out of time—staging the aftermath of a celebration rather than the party itself, for example—all the while maintaining an attitude of bemused observation.
Brent Sikkema, the Manhattan art dealer renowned for representing artists such as Jeffrey Gibson and Kara Walker found dead The post Brent Sikkema – Visionary Art Dealer Of Jeffrey Gibson And Kara Walker Murdered appeared first on Artlyst ....
In her masterpiece 8 Possible Beginnings or The Creation of African-America , Walker unravels just that, the story of struggle, oppression, escape and the complexities of power dynamics in the history following slave trade in America...
Kwan Sheung Chi’s work One Million is a video work depicting the counting of bills...
Untitled (Grate I/II: Shan Mei Playground/ Grand Fortune Mansion) is part of a series drawn from architectural objects that mark the boundary of public and private spaces Wong encountered while strolling in Hong Kong...
Contrabando is a work that references the larger sociological phenomenon in which immigrant economic strategies come to infiltrate urban landscapes...
Drawn from the widely circulated images of protests around the world in support of women rights and racial equality, the phrase I can’t believe we are still protesting is both the title of Wong Wai Yin’s photographic series and a reference to similar messages seen on protest signages...
Julio Cesar Morales’s watercolor drawings, Undocumented Intervention , show a variety of surprising hiding places assumed by people trying to cross into the United States without documentation...
In this work the artist stages a humorously violent “intervention” against male-dominated cultures of art production in present-day China...
Like many of his other sculptural works, the source of I am the Greatest is actually a historical photograph of an identical button pin from the 1960s...
A Flags-Raising-Lowering Ceremony at my home’s cloths drying rack (2007) was realized in the year of the 10th anniversary of the establishment of The Hong Kong Special Administrative Region of the People’s Republic of China...
Untitled (Wheelchair Drawing) is a ten-foot photo transfer of the image of a wheelchair with burning embers in its seat...
The image is borrowed from protests during Civil Rights where African Americans in the south would carry signs with the same message to assert their rights against segregation and racism...
Drawn from the widely circulated images of protests around the world in support of women rights and racial equality, the phrase I can’t believe we are still protesting is both the title of Wong Wai Yin’s photographic series and a reference to similar messages seen on protest signages...
Shot in black and white and printed on a glittery carborundum surface, Black Hands, White Cotton both confronts and abstracts the subject of its title...