Tag Archives: New Museum

LATOYA RUBY FRAZIER IN CONVERSATION

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Thank you to the UAW for trusting me with your lives. These are very personal, painful, intimate details and stories of everything they are still going through right now. It is an honor to show my work to serve the United Auto Workers in this country. — LaToya Ruby Frazier*

On the occasion of the exhibition GRIEF AND GRIEVANCE—ART AND MOURNING IN AMERICA, join Frazier and New Museum curator Margot Norton for an online conversation. See link below to register.

LATOYA RUBY FRAZIER IN CONVERSATION WITH MARGOT NORTON

New Museum

Friday, March 12.

4 pm on the West Coast; 7 pm East Coast.

*LaToya Ruby Frazier in conversation with Solveig Øvstebø and Karsten Lund at The Renaissance Society, Chicago, September 14, 2019,

LaToya Ruby Frazier, from top: Momme, 2008, from the series, The Notions of Family, 2008, gelatin silver print; Home on Braddock Avenue, from the series, The Notions of Family, 2007, gelatin silver print; Frances Turnage, UAW Local 1112, Women’s Committee, (34 years in at GM Lordstown Complex, Paint Shop), standing in her living room, wearing her work uniform, Youngstown, OH, 2019, 2019, gelatin silver print; LaToya Ruby Frazier, Flint is Family in Three Acts (2021) cover image courtesy and © the artist, Steidl, and the Gordon Parks Foundation; LaToya Ruby Frazier, The Last Cruze (2020) cover image courtesy and © the artist and The Renaissance Society, Chicago; Mindy Miller, Iron Workers Union Local 851, (11 years in at Auto Warehousing Company (AWC)), standing in her grandmother’s living room with her mother and grandmother, Lezlie and Marlene Miller, Niles, OH, 2019, 2019, gelatin silver print; Grandma Ruby holding her babies, from the series, The Notions of Family, 2002, gelatin silver print. Images © LaToya Ruby Frazier, courtesy of the artist and Gladstone Gallery, New York and Brussels.

GRIEF AND GRIEVANCE CURATORIAL ROUNDTABLE

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As images from the civil rights era migrated in the American visual lexicon, some becoming icons… a shift also happened in the aesthetic understanding of what images do and how they function. American society has been saturated with images since the post-Second World War period, and artists growing up at that time were some of the first to turn a critical eye to the production of images and cast doubt on their narrative function…

Black artists understood that though Black people may be the subject of many images throughout U.S. history, those captured by and circulated within those images gave little or no consent. In addition, the Black body and its visual reception have been so predetermined by stereotype that their presentation may undermine even good intentions. — Naomi Beckwith*

To kick off the New Museum exhibition GRIEF AND GRIEVANCE—ART AND MOURNING IN AMERICA—the final show conceived by Okwui Enwezor—join Beckwith, Glenn Ligon, Mark Nash, and New Museum artistic director Massimiliano Gioni for a curatorial roundtable.

See link below to register for this online event.

GRIEF AND GRIEVANCE CURATORIAL ROUNDTABLE

New Museum

Tuesday, February 16.

4 pm on the West Coast; 7 pm East Coast.

See MEETING WORLDS—ON OKWUI ENWEZOR’S WORK, an online conversation featuring Ute Meta Bauer (the founding director of the NTU Centre for Contemporary Art Singapore), Franklin Sirmans (the director of the Pérez Art Museum in Miami), Terry Smith (a professor of Contemporary Art History and Theory at the University of Pittsburgh), and Octavio Zaya, an independent art critic and curator. New Museum director Massimiliano Gioni moderated the January 21 talk.

*Naomi Beckwith, “My Soul Looks Back in Wonder,” in Grief and Grievance: Art and Mourning in America (New York: New Museum; London: Phaidon, 2020), 182.

From top: Naomi Beckwith, photograph by Maria Ponce, courtesy of the photographer, Beckwith, and MCA Chicago; Glenn Ligon, A Small Band (2015) installation, New Museum, 2021, neon, paint, and metal support, image © Glenn Ligon, courtesy of the artist, Hauser & Wirth, New York, Regen Projects, Los Angeles, Thomas Dane Gallery, London, Chantal Crousel, Paris, and the New Museum; Garrett Bradley, Alone (2017), still, single-channel 35mm film transferred to video, sound, black and white, image © Garrett Bradley, courtesy of the artist and the New Museum; Grief and Grievance: Art and Mourning in America (2020), conceived by Okwui Enwezor, cover image courtesy and © New Museum and Phaidon; Mark Nash, image courtesy of Nash; Massimiliano Gioni, courtesy of Gioni and Alain Elkann.

ON ENWEZOR

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We are just beginning to realize what the loss of Okwui Enwezor means for the world of art. Okwui’s curatorial vision was informed by his articulate opposition against hegemonic powers, social injustice, and the continued exclusion of people of color. He was certainly one of the most inspiring and rigorous forces in the field of curating, who seamlessly linked the exclusive contemporary art industry with world politics. Equally important, his absence is deeply felt by many of us on a personal level, by all of those whom he worked with over the past three decades, by those inspired by his charisma, his ambition, and the way he used his position of power to radically shift the status quo wherever he worked. — Ute Meta Bauer

As a preview to the upcoming New Museum exhibition GRIEF AND GRIEVANCE: ART AND MOURNING IN AMERICA—the final project conceived by Okwui Enwezor—join Bauer, Franklin Sirmans, Terry Smith, Octavio Zaya, and New Museum Artistic Director Massimiliano Gioni for a discussion on Enwezor’s curatorial vision and life’s work.

See link below to register for the online conversation.

MEETING WORLDS—ON OKWUI ENWEZOR’S WORK

New Museum

Thursday, January 21.

5 pm on the West Coast; 7 pm East Coast.

From top: Okwui Enwezor, artistic director of Documenta 11, in Kassel, Germany, 2002, photograph by Werner Maschmann, image courtesy and © Documenta Archiv, Kassel; The Short Century: Independence and Liberation Movements in Africa, 1945–1994, edited by Enwezor, cover image courtesy and © Prestel; Postwar: Art Between the Pacific and the Atlantic, edited by Enwezor, Katy Siegel, and Ulrich Wilmes, cover image courtesy and © Prestel; Enwezor (left), Ute Meta Bauer, Octavio Zaya, and Mark Nash in Kassel, 2002, photograph by Maschmann, courtesy and © Documenta Archiv, Kassel; El Anatsui: Triumphant Scale, edited by Enwezor and Chika Okeke-Agulu, cover image courtesy and © Haus der Kunst, Munich; Grief and Grievance: Art and Mourning in America, cover image courtesy and © New Museum and Phaidon.

JORDAN CASTEEL AND HANYA YANAGIHARA IN CONVERSATION

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On the occasion of her New Museum show WITHIN REACH, Jordan Casteel will join author-editor Hanya Yanagihara for a rescheduled conversation on Casteel’s practice.

See link below for details.

JORDAN CASTEEL and HANYA YANAGIHARA IN CONVERSATION

New Museum

Monday, November 9.

4 pm on the West Coast; 7 pm East Coast.

Jordan Casteel, from top: Minnesota, 2020 (detail); Memorial, 2017, oil on canvas; Yvonne and James, 2017, oil on canvas, Joyner / Giuffrida Collection; Amina, 2017, oil on canvas; Devan, 2014, oil on canvas, Bendit Collection, New York; Harold, 2017, oil on canvas, Hill Charitable Collection; Cowboy E, Sean Cross, and Og Jabar, 2017, oil on canvas. Images © Jordan Casteel, courtesy of the artist, Pettit Art Partners, and Casey Kaplan, New York.

CLAUDIA RANKINE AND JUDITH BUTLER IN CONVERSATION

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On my way to retrieve my coat I’m paused in the hallway in someone else’s home when a man approaches to tell me he thinks his greatest privilege is his height. There’s a politics around who is tallest, and right now he’s passively blocking passage, so yes. But greatest, no. Predictably, I say, I think your whiteness is your greatest privilege. To this, he pivots and reports that, unlike other whites who have confessed to him they are scared of Blacks, he is comfortable around Black people because he played basketball. He doesn’t say with Black men because that’s implied. For no good reason, except perhaps inside the inane logic of if you like something so much, you might as well marry it, I ask him, are you married to a Black woman? What? He says, no, she’s Jewish. After a pause, he adds, she’s white. I don’t ask him about his closest friends, his colleagues, his neighbors, his wife’s friends, his institutions, our institutions, structural racism, unconscious bias — I just decide, since nothing keeps happening, no new social interaction, no new utterances from me or him, both of us in default fantasies, I just decide to stop tilting my head to look up.

I have again reached the end of waiting. What is it the theorist Saidiya Hartman said? “Educating white people about racism has failed.” Or, was it that “hallways are liminal zones where we shouldn’t fail to see what’s possible.” Either way, and still, all the way home, the tall man’s image stands before me, ineluctable. And then the Hartman quote I was searching for arrives: “One of the things I think is true, which is a way of thinking about the afterlife of slavery in regard to how we inhabit historical time, is the sense of temporal entanglement, where the past, the present and the future, are not discrete and cut off from one another, but rather that we live the simultaneity of that entanglement. This is almost common sense to Black folk. How does one narrate that?” Her question is the hoop that encircles. — Claudia Rankine, from Just Us: An American Conversation*

This week join Rankine and Judith Butler—author of The Force of Nonviolence—in conversation.

This online event is presented by the New Museum’s Stuart Regen Visionaries Series program. See link below for details.

CLAUDIA RANKINE and JUDITH BUTLER IN CONVERSATION

New Museum

Thursday, October 29.

4 pm on the West Coast; 7 pm East Coast.

*Claudia Rankine, Just Us: An American Conversation (Minneapolis: Graywolf Press, 2020). © Claudia Rankine.

From top: Claudia Rankine, photograph courtesy of Blue Flower Arts; Claudia Rankine, Just Us: An American Conversation (2020) cover image courtesy and © Graywolf Press; Judith Butler, The Force of Nonviolence (2020) cover image courtesy and © Verso; Judith Butler, courtesy of the photographer and the author.