Saturday, April 11, 2015

Four Days in Washington D. C.

By Charles Kessler


The Enid A. Haupt Garden behind the Smithsonian Castle.
My friend Tom Wolf curated a major Yasuo Kuniyoshi exhibition at the Smithsonian Museum of American Art (through August 30th), and he also wrote a definitive essay for the exhibition catalog. So a gang of us went down to Washington D. C. for a few days to help celebrate the opening. I will be writing about the show soon, but in the meantime, here’s a rave review by Philip Kennicott in the Washington Post. For now I want to briefly write about some of the other shows I saw while I was there. (I wrote a guide to the Washington art museums that you can download here if you’re interested.) 


The Phillips Collection
It was not a good time to visit Washington. The Easter and Passover holidays resulted in droves of tourists and their rambunctious kids descending on the museums. Least crowded was the Phillips Collection, probably because it’s in Dupont Circle, not near the Mall with the other museums. They had an exhaustive exhibition of the work of the Dada/Surrealist Man Ray from about 1935-1950: Man Ray–Human Equations: A Journey from Mathematics to Shakespeare (through May 10th).  
Man Ray in his Studio, ca. 1948 (Photo © Arnold Newman / Liason Agency).
In 1934, on the advice of his friend the artist Max Ernst, Man Ray went to see display of exquisite three-dimensional mathematical models at the Institut Henri Poincaré in Paris. This prompted a 15-year exploration of the models in various mediums; and it's the subject of this exhibition. In addition to an impressive amount of Man Ray’s art from the period (70 photographs, 25 paintings, and eight assemblages), the exhibition includes 25 of the original three-dimensional plaster, wood, papier-mâché, and string mathematical models. (The Phillips didn't allow photography, even of the models, so below is a photo of three similar polished plaster ones from the website hyperbolic crochet.)
Mathematical models on display at the Institut Henri Poincaré in Paris.
In the mid-1930s, Man Ray photographed these models for the avant-garde publication Cahiers d’Art, but rather than do straightforward documentation, he lighted them in dramatic ways to suggest human anatomy or futuristic mechanisms. 
Man Ray, Mathematical Object, 1934-35, (Collection L. Malle © Man Ray Trust).
In 1947 these photographs inspired a group of paintings that he associated (tenuously, I believe) with titles of Shakespeare’s plays. (A somewhat skull-like painting, for example, he titled Hamlet.)
Left: Man Ray, Objet Mathématique, 1934-1936 (photo); right: Man Ray, All's Well That Ends Well, 1948 (painting).

And he also used these models to inspire surrealist assemblages.
Man Ray, Main Ray, 1935 (The Israel Museum). 
The thing that struck me was how simple and beautiful the original models are, and how fanciful, even arty, the work Man Ray derived from them is. Man Ray was not able, or willing, to restrain the sentimental and romantic nature of his art, unlike his more uncompromising friend, Marcel Duchamp.



Smithsonian Museum of American Art
It’s good to see museums are exhibiting folk and outsider art on a regular basis now. (I wrote about an outsider art exhibition at the Philadelphia Museum of Art here.) There was a lot of powerful and striking work on display, including James Hampton’s The Throne of the Third Heaven of the Nations' Millennium General Assembly, which wins the prize for flamboyance. 
James Hampton, The Throne of the Third Heaven of the Nations’ Millennium General Assembly,  ca. 1950-1964, gold and silver aluminum foil over furniture, paperboard and glass, 180 pieces overall, 10 ½ x 27 x 14 feet.
For fourteen years Hampton worked on what he considered a holy space that would welcome the return of Christ. He constructed it out of old furniture, wooden planks, cardboard, insulation board, light bulbs, jelly glasses, desk blotters, mirror fragments, electrical cables and other found objects; and he covered all this with metallic foils and purple paper (now faded to a yellow-tan color). Only a small portion of the 180 components are currently on view. Seeing the complete in its original setting (a rented garage) must have been mind-boggling. 

I was awed by the bravado craftsmanship and exuberant expressionism of the ceramic vessels made by Navajo women:
Betty Manygoats, Wedding Vase with Horned Toad Appliqués, 1988, fired clay with piñon pitch, 23 x 11 3/8 x 11 3/8 inches (Smithsonian American Art Museum, 1997.124.162).
Christine McHorse, Wolves Courting at Full Moon, 1988, fired micaceous clay with piñon pitch, 11 5/8 x 13 7/8 inches (Smithsonian American Art Museum, 1997.124.161).
Louise Goodman, Bear, 1990, fired clay with piñon pitch, 22 x 11 x 11 inches (Smithsonian American Art Museum, 1997.124.154).
and the uncannily animate animal sculptures by Felipe Archuleta:
Foreground, on the left: Felipe Archuleta, Gorilla, 1976, carved and painted cottonwood with glue and sawdust, 40 x 27 x 42 inches (Smithsonian American Art Museum, 1986.65.228); and on the right: Felipe Archuleta, Baboon, 1978, carved and painted cottonwood and pine, 69 x 42 x 16 inches (Smithsonian American Art Museum, 1986.65.227).

Hirshhorn Museum and Sculpture Garden
What is it with contemporary art museums? Why are the spaces so often too large, too noisy, and too bright? The Hirshhorn was by far the most chaotic of the museums I went to, especially since they had a Barbara Kruger exhibition that was a visual cacophony – an assault to the senses. (Warning: so is the Hirshhorn website.) 

Fortunately the Hirshhorn has several small, quiet, and dark theaters in the basement devoted to video where I could escape and concentrate. The best of the videos, especially given the mood I was in (a Ryan Trecartin video, much as I ordinarily like them, would not have done), was by Ragnar Kjartansson – his S.S. Hangover, 2013–14 (through April 19th).
Still from Ragnar Kjartansson’s video, S.S. Hangover, 2013–14. © Ragnar Kjartansson.
This was one of Kjartansson's typically gorgeous videos that's reminiscent of Vermeer with its soft golden light and jewel-like color. Basically the S.S. Hangover video shows a small, wooden, old-fashioned looking boat, gliding in and out along a canal, picking up and dropping off members of a brass band who would join an on-board concert. A simple idea, but haunting and affecting. 
Still from Ragnar Kjartansson’s video, S.S. Hangover, 2013–14. © Ragnar Kjartansson.
Freer Gallery of Art
This is my favorite place to look at Asian art. They will be closing for renovation from January 2016 until summer 2017, so enjoy it while you can. In two of the smaller galleries, there's a show of Chinese Ceramics:13th–14th Century (through January 3rd). What sophisticated and exquisite work, especially the celadon-glazed ceramics from Longquan and the porcelain vessels decorated with cobalt pigment from Jingdezhen. The two areas competed with each other for the international market, and the competition drove technical and expressive innovations.  
Bottle, Jizhou ware, Yuan dynasty, 14th century, stoneware with iron glaze splashed with ash glaze, 13 x 8 inches.
Longquan ware vase or bottle, Yuan dynasty, 14th century, stoneware with celadon glaze and reserved bisque panels, 11 x 7 inches. 
And as readers of this blog know, I have a visceral love for ancient Chinese bronzes; and there's always a selection of great ones at the Freer. Here's a group of particularly strange, aggressive and delightfully creepy ones:
Fitting in the form of a tiger, Middle Western Zou dynasty, ca. 900 B.C.E., bronze, 10 x 6 x 29 ½ inches
Lidded ritual ewer with dragons, birds, tigers, elephants, fish, snakes and humans, Shang dynasty, ca. 1600 B.C.E., bronze, 12 ½ x 12 ½ x 6 inches.
On the left: ritual grain server with spikes, ribs, and dragons, Western Zhou dynasty,  ca. 1050 B.C.E., bronze, 9 x 15 inches; and on the right: lidded ritual wine container with birds, Western Zhou dynasty, ca. 1050 B.C.E., bronze, 20 x 14 x 11 inches.


National Gallery of Art
Piero di Cosimo: The Poetry of Painting in Renaissance Florence (through May 3rd).

As can be seen in his painting The Visitation with Saint Nicholas and Saint Anthony Abbot, ca. 1489-1490, Piero di Cosimo was among the most technically proficient of early Renaissance painters. His work was influenced by Flemish art and has the same highly realistic detail. 
Piero di Cosimo, The Visitation with Saint Nicholas and Saint Anthony Abbot, c. 1489-1490, oil on panel, 72 1/2 x 74 inches (National Gallery of Art, 1939.1.361).
Yet there's something primitive (in a good way) about Piero's art. Like some outsider and folk artists, he had an obsessive concern with wildly imaginative details that he would cram into his larger paintings (see detail below).
Close-up detail of the right side showing "The Annunciation" in the background and "The Massacre of the Innocents" in the foreground. 

Piero di Cosimo, Liberation of Andromeda, c. 1510–1513, oil on panel (Galleria degli Uffizi, Florence).
Or this one (above) about Ovid's legend of the beautiful princess Andromeda (on the left, provocatively bare-breasted and tied to a tree) who was sacrificed to a horrible sea monster (or, in this case, a goofy sea monster) and saved by Perseus, flying in on winged feet.
Close-up detail of Perseus slaying the sea monster.
Piero's portraits and smaller devotional paintings, on the other hand, aren't as whimsical as his large paintings, and fit in well with more typical Italian Renaissance painting.
On the left: Piero di Cosimo, Madonna and Child with a Dove, ca. 1490, oil on poplar wood, 33 x 23 inches (Musée du Louvre); and on the right: Piero di Cosimo, Saint Mary Magdalene, 1490s, tempera on panel, 28 ½ x 30 inches (Galleria Nazionale d'Arte Antica, palazzo barberini, Rome).

Sunday, March 29, 2015

Sculpture in the Age of Donatello

By Charles Kessler

Sculpture in the Age of Donatello is at the Museum of Biblical Art (1865 Broadway at 61st Street, through June 14th). All the work in this exhibition was made in the first decades of the fifteenth century for the Cathedral of Florence ("The Duomo"); and it's all on loan from the Museo dell’Opera del Duomo (the Duomo Museum) while it undergoes renovation and expansion. The exhibition consists of twenty-three sculptures by the early Renaissance artists Brunelleschi, Nanni di Banco, Luca della Robbia, and, most impressively, by Donato di Niccolò di Betto Bardi, a.k.a. Donatello.
The Museum of Biblical Art.
This is a rare opportunity for Americans to see Donatello's sculpture – the only one in the country I know of is Madonna of the Clouds, ca. 1425-35, a small relief in the Boston Museum of Fine Arts.
The Museum of Biblical Art is not exactly on the art world map – I would pass it sometimes when I went to Lincoln Center, or to a movie in the area, but I never went in. So it's surprising that this small, little-known museum is not only a venue for this blockbuster, but the sole venue. It was the only institution that could accommodate the time schedule of the Museo dell’Opera del Duomo. There's something wrong when our art institutions are so inflexible that they have to pass on a major exhibition of early Florentine Renaissance sculpture as extraordinary as this.

The museum's exhibition space is relatively small, but the installers managed to keep the space from feeling crowded or claustrophobic. Because the sculpture stands are the same warm white color as the walls, things don't feel busy; and because semi-transparent scrim curtains are employed to define separate areas, viewers can focus on one or two works at a time and still feel a sense of openness.
Installation view of the exhibition Sculpture in the Age of Donatello at the Museum of Biblical Art. In the foreground is Brunelleschi's model for the top of the Duomo. 

Let's start with the greatest work in the exhibition, and one of the greatest sculptures of all time: Donatello's Prophet, know by its nickname “The Zuccone” (meaning pumpkin head or bald head)
Donatello, Prophet (The Zuccone), 1423–1425, marble, 77 inches high.
I find it awe-inspiring and mysterious that a large hunk of carved stone can have such a powerful emotional impact. I guess it has something to do with our empathizing with the sculpture as if it were a real person –  a person in this case who is a gaunt 7-footer, with a bald head, sinewy limbs, and who wears voluminous heavy drapery – a person with the stern, ascetic presence and uncompromising nature of the Old Testament prophet he was.
Detail: Donatello, Prophet (known as The Zuccone), 1435-36, marble.
And it's not only the person depicted that produces this emotional impact; it's abstract elements as well. The rough-hewn quality of the stone imparts a sense of solidity and heaviness, and the sweeping, soaring curves of the drapery add to the exhilarating drama.

The Zuccone was originally placed in the Duomo bell tower 70 feet up in the air. In order to keep the sculpture looking monumental and formidable from that distance, Donatello elongated and narrowed the body, making it seem even taller than it actually is. And the head is small relative to the body, making it appear even further away from the viewer. (See the photo below which I took from as low as I could manage.) This elongation is reinforced by the vertical lines of the drapery whose folds converge like railroad tracks to create the illusion of even more distance.
Low view of Donatello's The Zuccone, 1435-36, marble.
While The Zuccone and other sculptures in this exhibition are very big, they're not colossal. The figures are big enough to be extraordinary, but not so big that they couldn't be credible as real people.

Attributed to Giovanni d'Ambrogio, The Annunciation; left, Virgin Mary; right, Archangel Gabriel, late 14th century, marble (about 5 or 6 feet high).
This charming pair of sculptures illustrates The Annunciation  – the announcement by the angel Gabriel to the Virgin Mary that she would give birth to Jesus. Mary looks as if she's saying, "Oh, go on!" and the angel Gabriel is saying, "Hold on a minute while I explain." That we're able to read human emotion in these figures is a radical departure from the otherworldly art of the medieval period, and it's the main change brought by the Renaissance.

Donatello with the assistance of  Nanni di Bartolo, The Sacrifice of Isaac, 1421, marble, 75 inches high.
The Sacrifice of Isaac  (also known as The Binding of Isaac) is, of course, the story in Genesis in which God tests the Patriarch Abraham by commanding him to sacrifice his only son, Isaac. At the last minute, an angel stops the sacrifice and tells Abraham, "Now I know you fear God." Most artists before and after Donatello chose the moment when the angel of God stopped Abraham from killing his only son; Donatello chose a less dramatic a moment – after the angel interceded and Abraham withdrew his knife. Perhaps Donatello chose this moment to put more emphasis on Isaac, whom he portrays without anguish or fear, calmly accepting his fate – a reference to Jesus accepting His fate.

[There's an interesting discussion here (halfway down the page) about Kierkegaard and Sartre's perspectives on this story. Some of the questions the two philosophers posed are: Does Abraham have a free will to decide what to do? How could Abraham be sure it was a real angel? How did he know the command really came from God and not the devil? And why didn't it occur to Abraham that he might be going crazy?]

Can you spot an anachronism in Donatello's representation of Isaac?

Installation view, left: Nanni di Banco, St. Luke the Evangelist, 1408-15, marble, 82 inches high; right: Donatello, St. John the Evangelist, 1410-11, marble, 82 ⅔ inches high.
An "Evangelist" in this context (with a capital "E") is an author of a Christian gospel, not someone who proselytizes. Both figures are formidable and monumental (seven feet seated!), and both figures seem lost in thought, perhaps listening to the word of God. But Nanni di Banco's St. Luke is more serene and classical (note St. Luke's Roman-like hair and beard), whereas Donatello's St. John is dramatically expressive down to his toes.
Detail: Donatello, St. John the Evangelist, 1410-11.
Originally, Donatello's St. John the Evangelist was prominently placed to the right of the main portal of the Cathedral of Florence where, one hundred years later, Michelangelo would have seen it every time he passed by; it no doubt influenced his Moses.
On the left: Donatello, St. John the Evangelist, 1410-11, marble, 82 ⅔ inches high. On the right: Michelangelo, Moses, c. 1513-1515, marble, 92 inches (San Pietro in Vincoli, Rome). 
As if Sculpture in the Age of Donatello isn't reason enough to make a trip to the Upper West Side, there are two other important exhibitions within a few blocks of the Museum of Biblical Arts. The American Folk Art Museum has a show of multi-media art by folk and outsider artists that Roberta Smith favorably reviewed here; and the Museum of Art and Design has an excellent Richard Estes exhibition. 

Monday, March 23, 2015

Bushwick Galleries – A Photo Essay

By Charles Kessler

There have been a lot of good shows in Bushwick lately. Here are one or two images each from some of my favorites, and links to more images and information.

Fred Valentine: Toward Grandfather Mountain (closed March 8th)
Studio 10 Gallery, 56 Bogart
Installation view, Fred Valentine, Studio 10 Gallery.
Fred Valentine, Untitled Abstract Picture #26, 2012, oil on canvas, 9 x 12 inches.


Henry Khudyakov: Final Brain Storm (through May 8th)
Black & White Gallery, 56 Bogart
Installation view, Henry Khudyakov, Black & White Gallery.
Front and back of Henry Khudyakov, Avengers, 1985-1996, collage on canvas, 40 x 30 inches. (Image courtesy of the artist and Black & While Gallery / Project Space.)


Tim Kent: A World After Its Own Image (Closed March 18th)
Slag Gallery, 56 Bogart
Installation view, Tim Kent: A World After Its Own Image, Slag Gallery.
Closeup detail: Tim Kent, The City Upon A Hill, 2015, oil on linen, 80 x 120 inches.


Jack Davidson: love, mistake, promise, auto crackup, color, petal (through April 12th)
THEODORE:Art Gallery, 56 Bogart
Installation view, Jack Davidson, THEODORE:Art Gallery.


Philip Taaffe (through April 26th)
Luhring Augustine Gallery, 25 Knickerbocker Avenue
Installation view, Phillip Taaffe, Luhring Augustine Gallery.


James Fotopoulos: The Given (through March 23rd)
Microscope Gallery, 1329 Willoughby Avenue, #2B
Installation view,  James Fotopoulos, 75-minute video featuring Sophie Traub as the lead, Microscope Gallery.

Alex Paik & Debra Ramsay: Generative Processes
TSA Gallery, 1329 Willoughby Avenue #2A
Carl Belz wrote about this show here.
Installation view, Alex Paik & Debra Ramsay, TSA Gallery.


Outlet Gallery, 253 Wilson Avenue
Installation view. On the left: glass beads, thread and rope panel by Steven and William Ladd; and on the right: Jacquard woven cotton hanging by Phillip Stearns, Outlet Gallery.
Two views of Samantha Bittman, Untitled (028), 2015 acrylic on handwoven textile, 25 x 20 inches.


Robert StratiLayers (through April 19th)
Robert Henry Gallery, 56 Bogart
Installation view, Robert Strati, Layers, packing tape and wire, Robert Henry Gallery.


Tim Spelios and Matt Freedman: Once Upon A Broken Time (performances every Friday at 8pm and Sunday at 5pm through April 5th)
Studio 10, 56 Bogart
Tim Spelios (on drums), Matt Freedman (drawing and telling a story), Studio 10 Gallery.



BONUS:
Curated by Jason Andrew and organized by Norte Maar
1285 Avenue of the Americas Art Gallery (between 51st and 52nd Street, Manhattan). 

I included this large group exhibition because it is curated by a Bushwick organization, and many of the artists are associated with Bushwick galleries. 
Opening reception, between a place and candy - new works in pattern + repetition + motif. 
Installation view, Julia K. Gleich, Combinations - a study of infinite or countable discreet structures, 2015, video.
Installation view, Niki Lederer, Northside Gyre, 2015, found re-purposed plastic, machine screws, hex nuts, steel pipe, plywood and acrylic paint.

Thursday, March 12, 2015

Small Shows Currently at the Met

By Charles Kessler

I love the Met for the small shows they do. These shows are hardly ever reviewed or even publicized, so you have to find out about them either on the Met's website, spot them on the list of current exhibitions given out at the entrance, or, best of all, happen upon them as you walk around the museum. Usually these shows focus on a major work loaned to the Met for a short period, augmented by work from the permanent collection. Some of the most memorable have been Rembrandt at Work, The Great Self-Portrait from Kenwood House, from a few years ago; Velázquez's Portrait of Duke Francesco I d’Este: A Masterpiece from the Galleria Estense, Modena; and last year’s Goya and the Altamira Family.

One such small show currently at the Met is Innovation and Spectacle: Chinese Ritual Bronzes (through March 22nd).
Second Floor, Asian Art, Gallery 207. 
It includes some of the rarest, best preserved, most dramatic, and fantastic (in all senses of the word) Chinese bronzes you'll ever see, including three fifth-century B. C. bronzes, lent by the Shanghai Museum, that have never been seen outside of China.
Ritual Wine Container in the Shape of a Buffalo, early fifth century B. C., Eastern Zhou dynasty, bronze (Shanghai Museum).
The relief patterns on the bronzes are stylized eyes, ears, snouts, fangs, wings, horns, etc. of animals such as tigers, buffalo, owls, birds, and dragons and other mythological animals. As you can see from this closeup detail (below), the technical virtuosity of the bronze relief is astounding, especially given how old they are.
Detail: Ritual Wine Container in the Shape of a Buffalo, early fifth century B. C., Eastern Zhou dynasty, bronze (Shanghai Museum).
The Met augmented the work from the Shanghai Museum with even older bronzes from their own outstanding collection.
Altar Set, Shang and Western Zhou dynasties, late 11th century B. C., bronze, table is 7 ⅛ x 35 ⅜ x 18 ¼ inches.
Spouted ritual wine vessel (guang), Shang dynasty, early Anyang period (ca. 1300–1050 b.c.), bronze, 13 inches wide.
The bronzes were used in ritual offerings of food and drink for ancestors, so while they have the vitality and animation of a real animal, they are also abstract, symbolic and timeless.

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Painting Music in the Age of Caravaggio (through April 5th).
Painting Music in the Age of Caravaggio, Metropolitan Museum of Art, 2nd floor, gallery 624.
The subject of this small show, completely drawn from the Met's collection, is the status of music from the late 16th century through the 17th century in Italy. To this end, Caravaggio’s The Musicians is installed along with two other gorgeous paintings from the period that also have music as a subject: Valentin de Boulogne’s The Lute Player, 1626; and Laurent de La Hyre’s Allegory of Music, 1649. In addition, instruments like the ones depicted in the paintings are on display. Best of all, piped into the gallery is a recording of music from the period that was played on these instruments.
Caravaggio, The Musicians, 1595, oil on canvas, 36 x 46 ½ inches (52.81).
Music was experiencing its own renaissance during this time. There was a growing demand for professional musicians, especially solo singers; and opera as an art form was just emerging. It was also a time when many new musical instruments were invented. (If you want to learn more about these instruments, check here.) The music depicted in Caravaggio's The Musicians (it was originally legible) was chosen by his patron, Cardinal Francesco Maria del Monte, who was passionate about music.
Detail: Caravaggio,  The Musicians, 1595.
Caravaggio’s The Musicians, the focal point of the show, is an allegory about how music goes together with love (Cupid, sporting wings, is in the back left), and wine (Cupid is holding grapes). But even though there's a pagan god with wings and they're wearing classical drapery, this is not a typical High Renaissance allegory. Caravaggio's painting is more realistic, less idealized, than High Renaissance allegories. Caravaggio painted real musicians (including Caravaggio himself in the right background); and the scene includes music and instruments casually scattered about, and the drapery they're wearing is all bunched up. Also, the composition of the painting isn’t hierarchical in the High Renaissance manner; it isn’t ordered with higher ranking people given prominence. Instead it’s an all-over composition with everyone given similar attention. The god Cupid is, if anything, given less prominence.

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Another small show is Hans Hofmann: Selected Paintings (through July 5th). Like many of the other small shows, this is an opportunity to see work that's usually in storage. The Metropolitan Museum owns a lot of work by Hofmann – 15 paintings and 29 works on paper, but only one or two of them are usually on display.
Hans Hofmann: Selected Paintings, 2nd floor, gallery 918.
Four of the paintings in this show are from a series of nine paintings Hofmann made in 1965 as a tribute to his wife, Renate. This is work done at the peak of his mature phase. The masterful painting (below), for example, is pure joy. It just keeps coming at you with color, light and movement.
Hans Hofmann, Renate's Nantucket, 1965, oil on canvas, 60 x 72 inches (1996.440.4).
Hofmann was know for his teaching, and the main thing he taught was what he called "push/pull." To over-simplify, "push/pull" is a way of creating the sense of depth by using the natural properties of color instead of the traditional methods of perspective or tonal gradation (modeling volume) which Hofmann felt did not acknowledge the essential flatness of the painting surface. So, for example, warm colors (red, orange) tend to advance (push) and cool colors (blue, green) recede (pull). Hofmann acknowledged Cézanne's influence in this. In Search for the Real, Hofmann wrote "... Cézanne understood color as a force of push and pull. In his pictures he created an enormous sense of volume, breathing, pulsating, expanding, contracting through his use of colors."
Detail: Hans Hofmann, Renate's Nantucket, 1965.  (This detail is redder than the painting.)
And just like Cézanne, in order to simultaneously keep things flat and frontal (i.e."real"), everything is tied together, butted up to each other like a mosaic or puzzle. (See especially the right and top edge of the red/purple rectangle.)  

Hofmann was a master of riffs and had a large bag of tricks he used and taught. One of my favorites can be seen in the detail above. The red small brushwork at the top of the rectangle looks like it's going underneath and making the purple rectangle seem redder; and the blue on the left looks like it also floats underneath, making the red more purple. Among other things, this keeps the rectangle from becoming solid, opaque and clogged up. Instead, it breaths and glows.

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Warriors and Mothers: Epic Mbembe Art (through September 7th).
Installation view, Warriors and Mothers: Epic Mbembe Art, 1st floor, gallery 359.
This is a more typically curated show in that all the art is borrowed. But it’s not a large show, and it hasn't been publicized as far as I know, so, to that extent, it fits in with the other small shows.

These sculptures are almost three hundred years old, and because they were kept outside for most of that time, they are very eroded. They are the oldest wooden figures from Sub-Saharan Africa, and they're among the largest too (almost life-size).

Mbembe peoples, Seated Mother and Child, 17th-18th century, wood, 35 x 23 ½ x 29 inches (private collection).
The subjects of the sculptures are nurturing mothers and defending warriors – both protective, but in different ways. Originally the figures were painted and covered with ornaments, and their eyes were mirrors. They were positioned on either side of a carved drum made from enormous hollow logs. When the drum was played it could be heard from 12 miles away. Looking at these striking figures while listening to that great drum must have been a thrilling experience.