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“Wearing the same combination of light blue shirt and jeans as she did 18 years ago, Swinton was watched by hundreds of people while she slept in a glass box at New York’s Museum of Modern Art (MoMA) on Saturday.
Little has changed since the exhibit first appeared in 1995, with the notable exception of a pair of glasses next to Swinton on the mattress
Arms crossed and lying on her side with her eyes closed, Swinton did little to amuse the crowds but is due to appear again on six further occasions this year – but the public will get no warning. A MoMA statement said: “Those who find it chance upon it for themselves, live and in real – shared – time.””

– Sam Masters (The Independent)


A work like the “The Visitors” has all the strengths of the classical Romantic sensibility, and some of its potential weak points too. It offers a glimpse into a more ecstatic world; you really want to be these people, be invited to this party. It dwells in a kind of self-enclosed universe, spellbound by images of otherwordly artists and majestic decay. Like classic Romanticism, which arose as a kind of personalistic reaction to European industrialization, such a neo-Romantic temperament draws its power as an implicit reproach of the kind of dispirited, non-ecstatic lives we normally live. Unalloyed, of course, this sort of thing might also become a kind of cloying, self-involved theater — indeed, you might even say that Kjartansson subtly thematizes the sense of wallowing in fantasy, since being stuck in art is a theme, both in this film with its endless, trance-like choruses, and in his work more generally. It’s this minor-key background note that lets “The Visitors” resonate as both out of time and of its time at once.

Ragnar Kjartansson’s “Visitor’s” (Artinfo Review)

“I often see myself as an outsider artist,” she said at one point, “though of course I’m not. It’s wishful thinking, I suppose.”

Ms. Trockel shows at the Gladstone Gallery in New York and had a prominent installation at the Dia Art Foundation in Chelsea from 2002 to 2004. But perhaps because of her relative isolation and her general ambivalence toward the conventions of museum exhibitions, her exposure in the American art world has long been out of sync with her international reputation.

“With her the focus is always on the art, not the artist,” said Massimiliano Gioni, the New Museum’s director of exhibitions, who organized the show there with Jenny Moore, an associate curator. “Rosemarie’s work is important for a lot of younger artists right now, I think, because we’ve had so many years of the phenomenon of artist as rock star.”

-Rosemarie Trockel (NY Times)

“This perspective — that technology has definitively surpassed art at the center of creative life — explains why there is so little pathos or drama in Arcangel’s works. Their jaded, self-effacing humor comes out of a clear-eyed belief that, in an age of unthinkable amounts of digital communication, it rings false to make grandiose claims for individual originality or expression. If the works feel minor it is because they start from the point of view that art’s place in the world today is minor.”

-Ben Davis (Cory Arcangel Whitney Review)

That timepieces crop up everywhere in movies is no surprise: Film was the first visual art form to capture and package time, and every movie is an elaborate manipulation of time. Time is the form and content, and, above all, the material. Moviemakers have developed endless devices to make us aware of time’s passage in their films, and to hold us in thrall, or suspense, within that artificial time — while we forget about the real kind outside the theater…But while “The Clock” is accurately parsing real time, movie time goes nuts, rushing past in an exhilarating, surprisingly addictive flood. A door opened in one movie leads into another movie. Questions asked in one will be answered in the next or the next after that.

NY Times (Christain Marclay Review)

“Alfred H. Barr Jr., the Modern’s visionary founding director, drew a well-known outline of Modern art movements and famously likened the museum’s collection to a torpedo moving through time. The implication was that the collection’s involvement with the present is broad, but its back end is increasingly narrow, as superfluous, minor art falls away. But art is not so amenable to outlining, and art movements are really messy, edgeless things that should only become more so with age. Maybe it is time for a new, less militant metaphor. One possibility is a perpetually expanding umbrella, where everything — a historical moment, a museum’s reach and our consciousness — only increases.”

Roberta Smith (NY Times article)

Baldessari is an artist that is consistently asking questions and, in turn, forces his viewers to ask questions. Why is one thing juxtaposed by another? Why are these things represented in this particular medium? Why are these things represented at all? Baldessari frequently rescues the junk of culture and turns it into something else—art that probes the unconsciousness of the same society that produced and forgot those images in the first place.
Baldessari Review

Boltanski has always been a maker of monuments and memorials. His medium is the human trace and the memento mori. In the 1970s, he used to exhibit the “documents” of his own life, letters, scraps, locks of hair, photographs of himself as a child (which were probably nothing of the sort). Later, he began to commemorate the lives of others.

The Dead Swiss, the Children of Dijon: these world-famous shrines were assembled from photographs cut from obituaries, heaps of secondhand clothes, biscuit tins that might, or might not, contain personal effects; false memories, so to speak, especially since the dead were always anonymous. But these objects and images, no matter their provenance, were inevitably powerful for the sympathetic mind can hardly help but reconstruct a life from the smallest and most trivial of relics.

Pawned brooches, lost umbrellas, dogeared telephone books with their intensely intimate yet resolutely impersonal listings: your mind would rush in, imagining all these other people in other places. It did not matter that the evidence was meagre, partial, perhaps entirely specious, because the objects themselves were real, had once belonged to real livings beings.

That their owners were unknown equated very precisely with the universality of the evidence – a watch, a coat – and the poignant truth that one could only mourn the unknown through an act of the imagination.

Guardian review

Christain Boltanski’s Personnes

According to the exhibition press release, Skin Fruit aims to “evoke the tensions between exterior and interior, between what we see and what we consume.” It posits a corporeal theme garnered by heavy doses of sensuality, sexuality, and multitudinous examinations of the flesh. But is this really what Skin Fruit does? On a whole, I would argue otherwise. What the exhibition does succeed at is generating a buzz about contemporary art, the practice and philosophy of collecting, the art market and the museum as paradox: one part commercial venue, the other part educational institution. As a result, the New Museum has some considerable (re)thinking to do. Everyone learns from their mistakes. Hopefully this beacon of the Bowery is no exception to the rule.

Brookly Rail Review

Skin Fuit Exhibition