Tag Archives: Andy Warhol

LAWLER, QUAYTMAN, AND ROWLAND AT BUCHHOLZ

When Metro Pictures asked me to do a show in 1982, they already had an image. They represented a group of artists whose work often dealt with issues of appropriation and was often spoken of and written about together. A gallery generates meaning through the type of work they choose to show. I self-consciously made work that “looked like” Metro Pictures. The first thing you saw when you entered my show, Arrangements of Pictures, was an arrangement of works the gallery had on hand by “gallery artists” Robert Longo, Cindy Sherman, Jack Goldstein, Laurie Simmons, and James Welling. A wall label titled it “Arranged by Louise Lawler.” It was for sale as a work with a price determined by adding up the prices of the individual pieces, plus a percentage for me. I went to the collectors to whom Metro had sold work and photographed the Metro artists’ works in those contexts. I printed the resulting images a “normal” picture size and titled them “arrangements,” too—for example, “Arranged by Barbara and Eugene Schwartz, New York City.” The Metro situation at that time formed that work, and it also formed a way of working for me. — Louise Lawler*

Invited to exhibit together for the first time, Louise Lawler, R. H. Quaytman, and Cameron Rowland present new work along with selected older pieces for a group show in Cologne, now in its final week.

LOUISE LAWLER, R. H. QUAYTMAN, CAMERON ROWLAND

Through October 24.

Galerie Buchholz

Neven-DuMont-Strasse 17, Cologne.

*“Prominence Given, Authority Taken: An Interview with Louise Lawler by Douglas Crimp,” in Louise Lawler: An Arrangement of Pictures (New York: Assouline, 2000).

Louise Lawler, R. H. Quaytman, Cameron Rowland, Galerie Buchholz, September 4, 2020–October 24, 2020, from top: Louise Lawler, Water to Skin (catalogue size), 2016/2017, digital Fujiflex print face mounted to Plexiglas on museum box (The Swimming Pool, 1952, Henri Matisse, gouache on paper, cut and pasted on painted paper, installed as nine panels in two parts on burlap-covered walls, photographed at the Museum of Modern Art, New York City); Louise Lawler, Water to Skin (traced), 2016/2020, vinyl adhesive wall material (the work is as a tracing by Jon Buller available as a PDF vector file for production and installation at any scale as an adhesive wall graphic); Louise Lawler, Corner (distorted for the times, perturbée), 2014/2018, digital Fujiflex print face mounted to Plexiglas on museum box (A work by Jean-Michel Basquiat photographed at Yvon Lambert’s office, 108 Rue Vieille du Temple, Paris); Cameron Rowland, Management, 2020, time horn clock; Cameron Rowland, Out of Sight, 2020, 19th-century slave iron, 19th-century slave iron with missing rattle; R.H. Quaytman, Spine, Chapter 20 [Fraser, Anastas, Lawler], 2010, oil, silkscreen ink and gesso on wood (featuring the silkscreened image of Andrea Fraser viewing Louise Lawler’s The Princess, Now the Queen—utilized in four paintings from Painters Without Paintings and Paintings Without Painters, Chapter 8, 2006—combined with a second silkscreened image of Rhea Anastas—utilized in two paintings from Ark, Chapter 10, 2008. Two black bars and the cropping orthogonal of the Andy Warhol painting in Louise Lawler’s photo delimit the silkscreened imagery along with overpainting in Marshall’s photo oils. Down the center is a line of red, green and blue. This line was placed on all paintings in Chapter 20 that reused a silkscreen for a second time.); R.H. Quaytman, + ×, Chapter 34 [V], 2018, indigo distemper and gesso on wood; Louise Lawler, Position (noun), 1982/2020, gelatin silver print, installation view. Images courtesy and © the artists and Galerie Buchholz.

BLAKE GOPNIK AND OLIVIA LAING IN CONVERSATION

Blake Gopnik will join Olivia Laing and moderator Charlie Porter for a conversation about Andy Warhol, the subject of Gopnik’s massive new biography and the Tate Modern retrospective that opens this week.

Book signings with Gopnik and Laing will follow the event.

ON WARHOL—BLAKE GOPNIK and OLIVIA LAING

Thursday, March 12, at 6:30 pm.

Starr Cinema—Tate Modern

Bankside, London.

Andy Warhol, from top: Self-Portrait, 1986; Boy with Flowers, 1955–1957; Ladies and Gentlemen, 1975; Blake Gopnik, Warhol: A Life as Art, British edition, courtesy and © 2020 London: Allen Lane/Penguin; Billy Name (left) and Warhol in the Factory, mid-1960s; Debbie Harry, 1980. Images courtesy and © 2020 the Andy Warhol Foundation for the Visual Arts, Inc., Artists Right Society, New York, and DACS, London.

MOURNING — ON LOSS AND CHANGE

MOURNING—ON LOSS AND CHANGE, curated by Brigitte Kölle, looks at death and grief through the eyes and works of nearly thirty contemporary artists.

Participants include Bas Jan Ader, Kudjoe Affutu, Khaled Barakeh, Christian Boltanski, Helen Cammock, Anne Collier, Johannes Esper, Sibylle Fendt, Seiichi Furuya, Paul Fusco, Felix Gonzalez-Torres, Aslan Ġoisum, Ragnar Kjartansson, Maria Lassnig, Jennifer Loeber, Ataa Oko, Adrian Paci, Philippe Parreno, Susan Philipsz, Greta Rauer, Willem de Rooij, Michael Sailstorfer, Thomas Schütte, Dread Scott, Rein Jelle Terpstra, Rosemarie Trockel, Tilman Walther, and Andy Warhol.

Cammock—recent joint winner of the Turner Prize—makes her German debut with the exhibition, which includes a sound piece produced by Philipsz that “revives the old mourning tradition of keening in the atrium of the Gallery of Contemporary Art.”*

A bilingual exhibition booklet can be viewed here.

MOURNING—ON LOSS AND CHANGE*

Through June 14.

Hamburger Kunsthalle

Glockengiesserwall 5, Hamburg.

Mourning—On Loss and Change, Hamburger Kunsthalle, February 7–June 14, 2020 , from top: Maria Lassnig, Balken im Auge / Trauernde Hände, 1964; Khaled Barakeh, The Untitled Images, 2014; Helen Cammock, Untitled, (If You Won’t Be Touched) Shouting in Whispers, 2017; Seiichi Furuya, Mémoires, 2012; Ragnar Kjartansson, God, 2007; Paul Fusco, RFK Funeral Train, 1968/2019; Andy Warhol, Jackie, 1964; Anne Collier, Woman Crying (Comic) #8, 2019. Images courtesy and © the artists (and their estates and galleries), the photographers, and Hamburger Kunsthalle.

THE POWER OF THE ARTIST

AIDS completely changed American culture. People always say “pop culture.” As if we have some high culture to distinguish it from. The effect of AIDS was like a war in a minute country. Like, in World War I, a whole generation of Englishmen died all at once. And with AIDS, a whole generation of gay men died practically all at once, within a couple of years. And especially the ones that I knew.

The first people who died of AIDS were artists. They were also the most interesting people. I know I’ve said this before, but the audience for the arts—whether it was for writing or films or ballet—also died and no longer exists in a real way. So all the judgment left at the same time that all this creativity left. And it allowed people who would be fifth-rate artists to come to the front of the line. It decimated not just artists but knowledge. Knowledge of a culture. There’s a huge gap in what people know, and there’s no context for it anymore. — Fran Lebowitz*

Daniel Mendelsohn will moderate the panel THE POWER OF THE ARTIST at the Kitchen.

Presented by David Zwirner and the New York Review of Books, panelists include Jeremy O. Harris, Fran Lebowitz, Elizabeth Alexander, and Lisa Yuskavage.

THE POWER OF THE ARTIST—ELIZABETH ALEXANDER, JEREMY O. HARRIS, FRAN LEBOWITZ, and LISA YUSKAVAGE

Monday, February 3, at 6:30 pm

The Kitchen

512 West 19th Street, New York City.

*“The Voice: Fran Lebowitz,” interview by Francesco Clemente, Interview, March 2016.

From top: Jeremy O. Harris; Fran Lebowitz with Andy Warhol; Elizabeth Alexander. , photograph by Djeneba Aduayom. Photographs courtesy and © the subjects and the photographers. Above and below: Lisa Yuskavage, Bonfire, 2013–2015, oil on linen, diptych; Lisa Yuskavage, Naked Neighbors, 2019, oil on linen. Images courtesy and © the authors, the artist, the photographers, and David Zwirner.

THE DISAPPEARANCE OF MY MOTHER

I live in a world now where everything is “delegated” to photography. Nothing is left to memory, your own memory. What I’m interested in, instead, are things that can’t be seen, not those that can be… I have always labored under the illusion—but I also think it was true—that nobody ever photographed me. Because my face is not for sale. The real me is not photographable.Benedetta Barzini, to Beniamino Barrese

Beniamino Barrese is the son of Benedetta Barzini—the first Italian model to appear on the cover of American Vogue—and his mother’s obsessive interlocutor throughout his documentary THE DISAPPEARANCE OF MY MOTHER, one of the year’s best.

Summoned by Diana Vreeland in the mid-1960s to come to New York for a few weeks, Barzini stayed for a few years, a sought-after subject of Richard Avedon, Bert Stern, and Andy Warhol, a confident of Gerard Malanga and Salvador Dalí, and an acquaintance of Marcel Duchamp.

Barzini was a double-rebel. Modeling in Manhattan put a necessary distance between Barzini and her parents—heiress Giannalisa Feltrinelli and writer Luigi Barzini, Jr., author of The Italians. But the trajectory of second-wave feminism in the 1970s opened Barzini’s eyes to the ornamental condition of women, and she returned to Italy and became an activist and left-wing academic.

I asked myself this question: Why do we have prototypes of beauty? Why are models at the bow of the ship and the other women are squashed together into the stern? Why? Because men invent women… Maybe it would be better if female bodies disappeared from men’s imaginations.Benedetta Barzini

Barzani explains to her son that the camera is a dangerous liar because within its capture of arbitrary moments, it “freezes” life “within a limited boundary,” contaminating thought and inscribing conformity. “I don’t like frozen things… I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but there are a hundred million photos of sunsets. Frankly, they’re all the same. But they weren’t the same when you saw them.”

Barzini is by turns loving and exasperated with her son and his never-ending investment in images and their documentation. Yet Barzini still models herself—recently appearing in Simone Rocha‘s Fall-Winter 2017 show in London. Nothing if not contradictory, Barzini wants to remove herself from a world she finds deplorable, railing against ambiguity yet unsure which entrance to the void she should walk through. She explains to Barrese that their work together on this film is an act of “separation.” The filmmaker sees it differently, and together they find a sense of an ending.

THE DISAPPEARANCE OF MY MOTHER

Now playing.

Laemmle Monica Film Center

1332 2nd Street, Santa Monica.

Quad Cinema

34 West 13th Street, New York City.

Beniamino Barrese, The Disappearance of My Mother (2019), from top: Benedetta Barzini (3); Barrese and Barzini (2); Richard Avedon spread of Barzini in American Vogue; Barzini on the cover of Vogue Italia, September 1967; Simone Rocha Fall-Winter 2017 show, London; Andy Warhol, Benedetta Barzini Screen Test, 1966; Barzini and Marcel Duchamp, filmed at the artist’s Cordier and Ekstrom Gallery opening by Warhol, 1966 (2); The Disappearance of My Mother U.S. poster; Barzini (5). Images courtesy and © the filmmaker, the photographers, Benedetta Barzini, the Andy Warhol Foundation for the Visual Arts, Condé Nast, and Kino Lorber.