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		<title><![CDATA[ArtRoomsGallery.com: Latest News]]></title>
		<link>https://www.artroomsgallery.com</link>
		<description><![CDATA[The latest news from ArtRoomsGallery.com.]]></description>
		<pubDate>Wed, 29 Apr 2026 21:32:18 +0000</pubDate>
		<isc:store_title><![CDATA[ArtRoomsGallery.com]]></isc:store_title>
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			<title><![CDATA[ArtRoomsGallery.com: NYC's Getting Another Jean-Michel Basquiat Show]]></title>
			<link>https://www.artroomsgallery.com/artroomsgallery-com-blog/artroomsgallerycom-nycs-getting-another-jeanmichel-basquiat-show/</link>
			<pubDate>Tue, 12 Mar 2019 15:22:09 +0000</pubDate>
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			<description><![CDATA[<h1>New York’s Getting Yet Another Basquiat Show, This Time for the Artist’s Xeroxed Works</h1><p>Didn't snag one of the 50,000 tickets for the Brant Foundation's sold-out Basquiat show? Don't despair.</p><p><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"><a href="https://news.artnet.com/about/eileen-kinsella-22"><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);">Eileen Kinsella</span></a>,</span> <time>March 12, 2019 ArtNetNews</time></p><figure><img src="https://news.artnet.com/app/news-upload/2019/03/Basquiat-Peter-and-Wolf.jpg" alt="Jean-Michel Basquiat, Peter and the Wolf (1985). Collection of The Robert Lehman Revocable Trust. Image courtesy of Aimee and Robert Lehman." title="Jean-Michel Basquiat, Peter and the Wolf (1985). Collection of The Robert Lehman Revocable Trust. Image courtesy of Aimee and Robert Lehman." style="box-sizing: border-box;">
<figcaption>Jean-Michel Basquiat, <em>Peter and the Wolf</em> (1985). Collection of the Robert Lehman Revocable Trust. Image courtesy of Aimee and Robert Lehman.</figcaption></figure>
<p>The Brant Foundation is already out of all 50,000 timed tickets to see its new <a href="http://www.artnet.com/artists/jean-michel-basquiat/"><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);">Jean-Michel Basquiat</span></a> survey in New York. But fans needn’t despair yet: Further uptown, Nahmad Contemporary is opening another Basquiat survey—also free—focused on the artist’s surprisingly masterful work made with xerox photocopies.</p><p>Like the Brant show, and the well-received retrospective that preceded it at Fondation Louis Vuitton in Paris, the Nahmad show, titled “Jean-Michel Basquiat: Xerox,” was curated by Basquiat scholar Dieter Buchhart. “You have a great show uptown and a great show downtown,” Buchhart told artnet News. It was always the intention to organize the complementary shows at the same time, he said, though they are quite different.</p><p><a href="https://news.artnet.com/app/news-upload/2019/03/Basquiat-Xerox-Install-2-Nahmad.jpg"><img src="https://news.artnet.com/app/news-upload/2019/03/Basquiat-Xerox-Install-2-Nahmad.jpg" alt="© Estate of Jean-Michel Basquiat. Licensed by Artestar, New York" width="1000" height="489" srcset="https://news.artnet.com/app/news-upload/2019/03/Basquiat-Xerox-Install-2-Nahmad.jpg 1000w, https://news.artnet.com/app/news-upload/2019/03/Basquiat-Xerox-Install-2-Nahmad-300x147.jpg 300w, https://news.artnet.com/app/news-upload/2019/03/Basquiat-Xerox-Install-2-Nahmad-50x24.jpg 50w" sizes="(max-width: 1000px) 100vw, 1000px" style="box-sizing: border-box;"></a></p><p>© Estate of Jean-Michel Basquiat. Licensed by Artestar, New York.</p><p>The works at Nahmad Contemporary range in date from 1979 through 1987 (the year before Basquiat’s death) and reflect the artist’s playfulness and penchant for experimentation. It opens with Basquiat’s first foray into the xerox medium, when he and his friend Jennifer Stein created a small series of colorful collages by incorporating photocopies of paint splatters, scrawled text, and detritus, including candy wrappers and newspaper clippings, into postcards that they then sold on the street.</p><p>Several of these diminutive works are displayed in a double-sided glass case that allow the viewer to see the “© Jean-Michel Basquiat” tag scrawled on the back. A standout of these small earlier works is a 1979 canvas with swaths of blue color, newspaper clippings, and a strip of diagonal black label tape that reads “He Was Crazy,” which is also the title of the work.</p><p><a href="https://news.artnet.com/app/news-upload/2019/03/Basquiat-Xerox-He-was-crazy.jpg"><img src="https://news.artnet.com/app/news-upload/2019/03/Basquiat-Xerox-He-was-crazy.jpg" alt="Jean-Michel Basquiat, <em> (1979). Photo by Eileen Kinsella." width="600" height="800" srcset="https://news.artnet.com/app/news-upload/2019/03/Basquiat-Xerox-He-was-crazy.jpg 600w, https://news.artnet.com/app/news-upload/2019/03/Basquiat-Xerox-He-was-crazy-225x300.jpg 225w, https://news.artnet.com/app/news-upload/2019/03/Basquiat-Xerox-He-was-crazy-38x50.jpg 38w" sizes="(max-width: 600px) 100vw, 600px" style="box-sizing: border-box;"></a></p><p>Jean-Michel Basquiat, <em>He Was Crazy</em> (1979). Photo by Eileen Kinsella.</p><p>In 1983, when collage became a defining element of his practice, Basquiat began using the photocopier extensively as a tool to create paintings. The process of photocopying became so integral to his practice that he eventually invested in his own Xerox machine for his studio.</p><p>In the early 1980s he “started joining separate panels because the elevator wasn’t big enough. That gave him the opportunity to play with the panels and exchange them,” Bucchart said.</p><p><em>Jean-Michel Basquiat, <em>King of the Zulus </em>(1984–85). Marseille Museum of Contemporary Art.</em></p><em>Like the Brant survey, the Nahmad show was years in the making and reflects both Basquiat’s prolificity and wide-ranging approach to media. Later works include his incorporation of found materials like wood and the application of xerox collages to wood boxes instead of canvases.<p>Buchhart says the Xerox paintings position Basquiat as a pioneer of the pre-digital age, likening the various sheets to the numerous windows and screens we now leave open on smart phones and computers every day.</p><p>Basquiat’s <em>Untitled (One Eyed Man or Xerox Face)</em> (1982) achieved the highest price for a xerox work at auction when it sold for $14.5 million at <a href="http://www.artnet.com/auction-houses/sothebys-london/"><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);">Sotheby’s London</span></a> in March 2017. All of the works in the present show are on loan from private collectors, museums, the Louis Vuitton Foundation, and the Basquiat estate, and none are for sale.</p><p><a href="https://news.artnet.com/app/news-upload/2019/03/Basquiat-Xerox-Install-Nahmad.jpg"><img src="https://news.artnet.com/app/news-upload/2019/03/Basquiat-Xerox-Install-Nahmad.jpg" alt="© Estate of Jean-Michel Basquiat. Licensed by Artestar, New York" width="1000" height="477" srcset="https://news.artnet.com/app/news-upload/2019/03/Basquiat-Xerox-Install-Nahmad.jpg 1000w, https://news.artnet.com/app/news-upload/2019/03/Basquiat-Xerox-Install-Nahmad-300x143.jpg 300w, https://news.artnet.com/app/news-upload/2019/03/Basquiat-Xerox-Install-Nahmad-50x24.jpg 50w" sizes="(max-width: 1000px) 100vw, 1000px" style="box-sizing: border-box;"></a></p><p>© Estate of Jean-Michel Basquiat. Licensed by Artestar, New York.</p></em>]]></description>
			<content:encoded><![CDATA[<h1>New York’s Getting Yet Another Basquiat Show, This Time for the Artist’s Xeroxed Works</h1><p>Didn't snag one of the 50,000 tickets for the Brant Foundation's sold-out Basquiat show? Don't despair.</p><p><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"><a href="https://news.artnet.com/about/eileen-kinsella-22"><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);">Eileen Kinsella</span></a>,</span> <time>March 12, 2019 ArtNetNews</time></p><figure><img src="https://news.artnet.com/app/news-upload/2019/03/Basquiat-Peter-and-Wolf.jpg" alt="Jean-Michel Basquiat, Peter and the Wolf (1985). Collection of The Robert Lehman Revocable Trust. Image courtesy of Aimee and Robert Lehman." title="Jean-Michel Basquiat, Peter and the Wolf (1985). Collection of The Robert Lehman Revocable Trust. Image courtesy of Aimee and Robert Lehman." style="box-sizing: border-box;">
<figcaption>Jean-Michel Basquiat, <em>Peter and the Wolf</em> (1985). Collection of the Robert Lehman Revocable Trust. Image courtesy of Aimee and Robert Lehman.</figcaption></figure>
<p>The Brant Foundation is already out of all 50,000 timed tickets to see its new <a href="http://www.artnet.com/artists/jean-michel-basquiat/"><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);">Jean-Michel Basquiat</span></a> survey in New York. But fans needn’t despair yet: Further uptown, Nahmad Contemporary is opening another Basquiat survey—also free—focused on the artist’s surprisingly masterful work made with xerox photocopies.</p><p>Like the Brant show, and the well-received retrospective that preceded it at Fondation Louis Vuitton in Paris, the Nahmad show, titled “Jean-Michel Basquiat: Xerox,” was curated by Basquiat scholar Dieter Buchhart. “You have a great show uptown and a great show downtown,” Buchhart told artnet News. It was always the intention to organize the complementary shows at the same time, he said, though they are quite different.</p><p><a href="https://news.artnet.com/app/news-upload/2019/03/Basquiat-Xerox-Install-2-Nahmad.jpg"><img src="https://news.artnet.com/app/news-upload/2019/03/Basquiat-Xerox-Install-2-Nahmad.jpg" alt="© Estate of Jean-Michel Basquiat. Licensed by Artestar, New York" width="1000" height="489" srcset="https://news.artnet.com/app/news-upload/2019/03/Basquiat-Xerox-Install-2-Nahmad.jpg 1000w, https://news.artnet.com/app/news-upload/2019/03/Basquiat-Xerox-Install-2-Nahmad-300x147.jpg 300w, https://news.artnet.com/app/news-upload/2019/03/Basquiat-Xerox-Install-2-Nahmad-50x24.jpg 50w" sizes="(max-width: 1000px) 100vw, 1000px" style="box-sizing: border-box;"></a></p><p>© Estate of Jean-Michel Basquiat. Licensed by Artestar, New York.</p><p>The works at Nahmad Contemporary range in date from 1979 through 1987 (the year before Basquiat’s death) and reflect the artist’s playfulness and penchant for experimentation. It opens with Basquiat’s first foray into the xerox medium, when he and his friend Jennifer Stein created a small series of colorful collages by incorporating photocopies of paint splatters, scrawled text, and detritus, including candy wrappers and newspaper clippings, into postcards that they then sold on the street.</p><p>Several of these diminutive works are displayed in a double-sided glass case that allow the viewer to see the “© Jean-Michel Basquiat” tag scrawled on the back. A standout of these small earlier works is a 1979 canvas with swaths of blue color, newspaper clippings, and a strip of diagonal black label tape that reads “He Was Crazy,” which is also the title of the work.</p><p><a href="https://news.artnet.com/app/news-upload/2019/03/Basquiat-Xerox-He-was-crazy.jpg"><img src="https://news.artnet.com/app/news-upload/2019/03/Basquiat-Xerox-He-was-crazy.jpg" alt="Jean-Michel Basquiat, <em> (1979). Photo by Eileen Kinsella." width="600" height="800" srcset="https://news.artnet.com/app/news-upload/2019/03/Basquiat-Xerox-He-was-crazy.jpg 600w, https://news.artnet.com/app/news-upload/2019/03/Basquiat-Xerox-He-was-crazy-225x300.jpg 225w, https://news.artnet.com/app/news-upload/2019/03/Basquiat-Xerox-He-was-crazy-38x50.jpg 38w" sizes="(max-width: 600px) 100vw, 600px" style="box-sizing: border-box;"></a></p><p>Jean-Michel Basquiat, <em>He Was Crazy</em> (1979). Photo by Eileen Kinsella.</p><p>In 1983, when collage became a defining element of his practice, Basquiat began using the photocopier extensively as a tool to create paintings. The process of photocopying became so integral to his practice that he eventually invested in his own Xerox machine for his studio.</p><p>In the early 1980s he “started joining separate panels because the elevator wasn’t big enough. That gave him the opportunity to play with the panels and exchange them,” Bucchart said.</p><p><em>Jean-Michel Basquiat, <em>King of the Zulus </em>(1984–85). Marseille Museum of Contemporary Art.</em></p><em>Like the Brant survey, the Nahmad show was years in the making and reflects both Basquiat’s prolificity and wide-ranging approach to media. Later works include his incorporation of found materials like wood and the application of xerox collages to wood boxes instead of canvases.<p>Buchhart says the Xerox paintings position Basquiat as a pioneer of the pre-digital age, likening the various sheets to the numerous windows and screens we now leave open on smart phones and computers every day.</p><p>Basquiat’s <em>Untitled (One Eyed Man or Xerox Face)</em> (1982) achieved the highest price for a xerox work at auction when it sold for $14.5 million at <a href="http://www.artnet.com/auction-houses/sothebys-london/"><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);">Sotheby’s London</span></a> in March 2017. All of the works in the present show are on loan from private collectors, museums, the Louis Vuitton Foundation, and the Basquiat estate, and none are for sale.</p><p><a href="https://news.artnet.com/app/news-upload/2019/03/Basquiat-Xerox-Install-Nahmad.jpg"><img src="https://news.artnet.com/app/news-upload/2019/03/Basquiat-Xerox-Install-Nahmad.jpg" alt="© Estate of Jean-Michel Basquiat. Licensed by Artestar, New York" width="1000" height="477" srcset="https://news.artnet.com/app/news-upload/2019/03/Basquiat-Xerox-Install-Nahmad.jpg 1000w, https://news.artnet.com/app/news-upload/2019/03/Basquiat-Xerox-Install-Nahmad-300x143.jpg 300w, https://news.artnet.com/app/news-upload/2019/03/Basquiat-Xerox-Install-Nahmad-50x24.jpg 50w" sizes="(max-width: 1000px) 100vw, 1000px" style="box-sizing: border-box;"></a></p><p>© Estate of Jean-Michel Basquiat. Licensed by Artestar, New York.</p></em>]]></content:encoded>
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			<title><![CDATA[ArtRoomsGallery: Affordable Art Fair Fun!]]></title>
			<link>https://www.artroomsgallery.com/artroomsgallery-com-blog/artroomsgallery-affordable-art-fair-fun/</link>
			<pubDate>Tue, 12 Mar 2019 12:11:58 +0000</pubDate>
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			<description><![CDATA[<h1>Affordable Art Fair NYC</h1><address>Metropolitan Pavilion<br><div>125 W 18th Street<p>New York, NY 10011</p><p>USA</p>T: +1-212-255-2003 <br>March 28–31, 2019<br>Preview: March 27, 2019, 6 p.m.–9 p.m.</div></address><div><img id="ctl00_MainContent_EventImage" itemprop="contentUrl" src="http://www.artnet.com/WebServices/images/ll5025llrCWPTHRaAE/affordable-art-fair-nyc.jpg" style="box-sizing: border-box;"><p>Courtesy of the Affordable Art Fair.</p><p>Affordable Art Fair NYC is a fun and creative day out with family and friends. Taking place twice a year in March and September, visitors will enjoy the friendly and relaxed atmosphere filled with hands-on-workshops, kids activities and personal shopping experiences. Filled with 1000s of hand-picked original paintings, stunning sculptures, editioned prints and more, there is something to suit every taste and budget.</p></div>]]></description>
			<content:encoded><![CDATA[<h1>Affordable Art Fair NYC</h1><address>Metropolitan Pavilion<br><div>125 W 18th Street<p>New York, NY 10011</p><p>USA</p>T: +1-212-255-2003 <br>March 28–31, 2019<br>Preview: March 27, 2019, 6 p.m.–9 p.m.</div></address><div><img id="ctl00_MainContent_EventImage" itemprop="contentUrl" src="http://www.artnet.com/WebServices/images/ll5025llrCWPTHRaAE/affordable-art-fair-nyc.jpg" style="box-sizing: border-box;"><p>Courtesy of the Affordable Art Fair.</p><p>Affordable Art Fair NYC is a fun and creative day out with family and friends. Taking place twice a year in March and September, visitors will enjoy the friendly and relaxed atmosphere filled with hands-on-workshops, kids activities and personal shopping experiences. Filled with 1000s of hand-picked original paintings, stunning sculptures, editioned prints and more, there is something to suit every taste and budget.</p></div>]]></content:encoded>
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			<title><![CDATA[ARTROOMSGallery.com: The Watts Towers by Sam Rodia-Incredible Art Sculpture, Incredible Story]]></title>
			<link>https://www.artroomsgallery.com/artroomsgallery-com-blog/artroomsgallerycom-the-watts-towers-by-sam-rodiaincredible-art-sculpture-incredible-story/</link>
			<pubDate>Wed, 06 Jun 2018 20:02:03 +0000</pubDate>
			<guid isPermaLink="false">https://www.artroomsgallery.com/artroomsgallery-com-blog/artroomsgallerycom-the-watts-towers-by-sam-rodiaincredible-art-sculpture-incredible-story/</guid>
			<description><![CDATA[<table><tbody><tr><td><h1>WATTS TOWERS by Sam Rodia<br>the Watts Towers Arts Center </h1></td></tr><tr><td><ins><ins><iframe width="468" height="15" frameborder="0" marginwidth="0" marginheight="0" vspace="0" hspace="0" allowtransparency="true" scrolling="no" allowfullscreen="true" id="aswift_0" name="aswift_0" style="left: 0px; position: absolute; top: 0px; width: 468px; height: 15px;"></iframe></ins></ins><h2>history</h2>The Watts Towers, consisting of seventeen major sculptures constructed of structural steel and covered with mortar, are the work of one man - Simon Rodia. Rodia, born Sabato Rodia in Ribottoli, Italy in 1879, was known by a variety of names including Don Simon, Simon Rodilla, Sam and Simon. Although his neighbors in watts knew him as "Sam Rodilla", the official name of his work is "the Watts Towers of Simon Rodia".<br><br>Rodia's older brother immigrated to the United States in 1895 and settled in Pennsylvania where he worked in the coal mines. Rodia followed his brother a few years later. Little is known about his early life in the United States except that he moved to the west coast and found work in rock quarries and logging and railroad camps as a construction worker.<p><a href="http://www.wattstowers.us/wattsTowersUS/watts_towers_views/index.htm"><img height="300" src="http://www.wattstowers.us/images/sam_up.jpg" width="675" style="display: inline-block; border-style: none;"></a></p><p><a href="http://www.wattstowers.us/wattsTowersUS/watts_towers_views/index.htm"><img alt="Sam Rodia working on one of the towers - photomontage (Lucien den Arend)" height="406" src="http://www.wattstowers.us/images/sam-working.jpg" width="675" style="display: inline-block; border-style: none;"></a></p><h4>Sam Rodia working on one of the towers - a photograph of the same spot - of the same tower - of which the original photograph - above - was taken of him at work.<br>photomontage © Lucien den Arend</h4><p><object height="546" width="675"><embed></object></p><h4>THE TOWERS (1957; 12 minutes) is a documentary about Simon Rodia (1879-1965) building the Watts Towers (a very informative documentary, in spite of the narrator's&nbsp;</h4><p><br>In 1921, Rodia purchased the triangular-shaped lot at 1761-1765 107th Street in Los Angeles and began to construct his masterpiece, which he called "Nuestro Pueblo" (meaning "our town"). For 34 years, Rodia worked single-handedly to build his towers without benefit of machine equipment, scaffolding, bolts, rivets, welds or drawing board designs. Besides his own ingenuity, he used simple tools, pipe fitter pliers and a window-washer's belt and buckle.r /&gt; <br>Construction worker by day and artist by night, Rodia adorned his towers with a diverse mosaic of broken glass, sea shells, generic pottery and tile, a rare piece of 19th-century, hand painted Canton ware and many pieces of 20th-century American ceramics. Rodia once said, "I had it in mind to do something big and I did it." The tallest of his towers stands 99½ feet and contains the longest slender reinforced concrete column in the world. The monument also features a gazebo with a circular bench, three bird baths, a center column and a spire reaching a height of 38 feet. Rodia's "ship of Marco Polo" has a spire of 28 feet, and the 140-foot long "south wall" is decorated extensively with tiles, sea shells, pottery, glass and hand-drawn designs.</p><p><a href="http://www.wattstowers.us/wattsTowersUS/watts_towers_views/index.htm"><img alt="Sam Rodia's hands which built the Watts Towers." height="450" src="http://www.wattstowers.us/images/sam-rodia-hands.jpg" width="675" style="display: inline-block; border-style: none;"></a><br>In 1955, when Rodia was approaching 75, he deeded his property to a neighbor and retired to Martinez, California to be near his family. A fire ruined Rodia's little house in 1956. within a few years the Department of Building and Safety ordered the property demolished. A group of concerned citizens, calling themselves "The Committee for Simon Rodia's Towers in Watts", fought successfully to save the Towers by collecting signatures and money and devising an engineering test in 1959 that proved the Towers' strength and safety.<a href="http://www.wattstowers.us/bill-cartwright.htm">Bill Cartwright</a> and Nick King purchased the Towers from Mr. Montoya for $3,000.00 in 1959. They founded The Committee for Simon Rodia’s Towers in Watts and saved the Towers from demolition with a “stress” or “load” test, designed by Bud Goldstone. The Towers proved stronger than the test equipment. Therefore, the test was stopped and the Towers were deemed safe, and preservation efforts began. The Watts community considered the Watts Towers part of their heritage and called upon the new owners to also invest in the community. Thus the Watts Towers Arts Center began.<br><br>In 1975, the committee, which had persevered the unique work of art for 16 years, gave the 'Towers and adjoining Arts Center building to the City of Los Angeles for operation and maintenance. In 1978, the Towers were deeded to the State, which undertook extensive restoration of the three main towers. . In 1985, continuing restoration responsibilities were given to the City of Los Angeles Cultural Affairs Department and currently both the Towers and the Watts Towers Arts Center are under the operation of the Cultural Affairs Department.<br><br>while the Towers fall into no strict art category, international authorities and the general public alike have lauded them as a unique monument to the human spirit and the persistence of a singular vision. The Watts Towers, listed on the National Register of Historic Places are a National Historic Landmark, a State of California Historic Park and Historic-Cultural Monument No. 15, as designated by the City of Los Angeles Cultural Heritage Commission.<br><br>The Cultural Affairs Department, through the Watts Towers Arts Center, provides diverse cultural enrichment programming through tours, lectures, changing exhibits and studio workshops for both teachers and school children. Each year, thousands of people are attracted to the Towers' site for the Simon Rodia Watts Towers Jazz Festival and the Watts Towers Day of the Drum Festival.</p><p>Courtesy Watts Tower Arts Center</p></td></tr></tbody></table>]]></description>
			<content:encoded><![CDATA[<table><tbody><tr><td><h1>WATTS TOWERS by Sam Rodia<br>the Watts Towers Arts Center </h1></td></tr><tr><td><ins><ins><iframe width="468" height="15" frameborder="0" marginwidth="0" marginheight="0" vspace="0" hspace="0" allowtransparency="true" scrolling="no" allowfullscreen="true" id="aswift_0" name="aswift_0" style="left: 0px; position: absolute; top: 0px; width: 468px; height: 15px;"></iframe></ins></ins><h2>history</h2>The Watts Towers, consisting of seventeen major sculptures constructed of structural steel and covered with mortar, are the work of one man - Simon Rodia. Rodia, born Sabato Rodia in Ribottoli, Italy in 1879, was known by a variety of names including Don Simon, Simon Rodilla, Sam and Simon. Although his neighbors in watts knew him as "Sam Rodilla", the official name of his work is "the Watts Towers of Simon Rodia".<br><br>Rodia's older brother immigrated to the United States in 1895 and settled in Pennsylvania where he worked in the coal mines. Rodia followed his brother a few years later. Little is known about his early life in the United States except that he moved to the west coast and found work in rock quarries and logging and railroad camps as a construction worker.<p><a href="http://www.wattstowers.us/wattsTowersUS/watts_towers_views/index.htm"><img height="300" src="http://www.wattstowers.us/images/sam_up.jpg" width="675" style="display: inline-block; border-style: none;"></a></p><p><a href="http://www.wattstowers.us/wattsTowersUS/watts_towers_views/index.htm"><img alt="Sam Rodia working on one of the towers - photomontage (Lucien den Arend)" height="406" src="http://www.wattstowers.us/images/sam-working.jpg" width="675" style="display: inline-block; border-style: none;"></a></p><h4>Sam Rodia working on one of the towers - a photograph of the same spot - of the same tower - of which the original photograph - above - was taken of him at work.<br>photomontage © Lucien den Arend</h4><p><object height="546" width="675"><embed></object></p><h4>THE TOWERS (1957; 12 minutes) is a documentary about Simon Rodia (1879-1965) building the Watts Towers (a very informative documentary, in spite of the narrator's&nbsp;</h4><p><br>In 1921, Rodia purchased the triangular-shaped lot at 1761-1765 107th Street in Los Angeles and began to construct his masterpiece, which he called "Nuestro Pueblo" (meaning "our town"). For 34 years, Rodia worked single-handedly to build his towers without benefit of machine equipment, scaffolding, bolts, rivets, welds or drawing board designs. Besides his own ingenuity, he used simple tools, pipe fitter pliers and a window-washer's belt and buckle.r /&gt; <br>Construction worker by day and artist by night, Rodia adorned his towers with a diverse mosaic of broken glass, sea shells, generic pottery and tile, a rare piece of 19th-century, hand painted Canton ware and many pieces of 20th-century American ceramics. Rodia once said, "I had it in mind to do something big and I did it." The tallest of his towers stands 99½ feet and contains the longest slender reinforced concrete column in the world. The monument also features a gazebo with a circular bench, three bird baths, a center column and a spire reaching a height of 38 feet. Rodia's "ship of Marco Polo" has a spire of 28 feet, and the 140-foot long "south wall" is decorated extensively with tiles, sea shells, pottery, glass and hand-drawn designs.</p><p><a href="http://www.wattstowers.us/wattsTowersUS/watts_towers_views/index.htm"><img alt="Sam Rodia's hands which built the Watts Towers." height="450" src="http://www.wattstowers.us/images/sam-rodia-hands.jpg" width="675" style="display: inline-block; border-style: none;"></a><br>In 1955, when Rodia was approaching 75, he deeded his property to a neighbor and retired to Martinez, California to be near his family. A fire ruined Rodia's little house in 1956. within a few years the Department of Building and Safety ordered the property demolished. A group of concerned citizens, calling themselves "The Committee for Simon Rodia's Towers in Watts", fought successfully to save the Towers by collecting signatures and money and devising an engineering test in 1959 that proved the Towers' strength and safety.<a href="http://www.wattstowers.us/bill-cartwright.htm">Bill Cartwright</a> and Nick King purchased the Towers from Mr. Montoya for $3,000.00 in 1959. They founded The Committee for Simon Rodia’s Towers in Watts and saved the Towers from demolition with a “stress” or “load” test, designed by Bud Goldstone. The Towers proved stronger than the test equipment. Therefore, the test was stopped and the Towers were deemed safe, and preservation efforts began. The Watts community considered the Watts Towers part of their heritage and called upon the new owners to also invest in the community. Thus the Watts Towers Arts Center began.<br><br>In 1975, the committee, which had persevered the unique work of art for 16 years, gave the 'Towers and adjoining Arts Center building to the City of Los Angeles for operation and maintenance. In 1978, the Towers were deeded to the State, which undertook extensive restoration of the three main towers. . In 1985, continuing restoration responsibilities were given to the City of Los Angeles Cultural Affairs Department and currently both the Towers and the Watts Towers Arts Center are under the operation of the Cultural Affairs Department.<br><br>while the Towers fall into no strict art category, international authorities and the general public alike have lauded them as a unique monument to the human spirit and the persistence of a singular vision. The Watts Towers, listed on the National Register of Historic Places are a National Historic Landmark, a State of California Historic Park and Historic-Cultural Monument No. 15, as designated by the City of Los Angeles Cultural Heritage Commission.<br><br>The Cultural Affairs Department, through the Watts Towers Arts Center, provides diverse cultural enrichment programming through tours, lectures, changing exhibits and studio workshops for both teachers and school children. Each year, thousands of people are attracted to the Towers' site for the Simon Rodia Watts Towers Jazz Festival and the Watts Towers Day of the Drum Festival.</p><p>Courtesy Watts Tower Arts Center</p></td></tr></tbody></table>]]></content:encoded>
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			<title><![CDATA[ArtRoomsGallery.com: The Met  Donation of 57 Works from Black Self Taught Artists of the American South Exhibit]]></title>
			<link>https://www.artroomsgallery.com/artroomsgallery-com-blog/artroomsgallerycom-the-met-donation-of-57-works-from-black-self-taught-artists-of-the-american-south-exhibit-9f2c43/</link>
			<pubDate>Wed, 30 May 2018 12:47:21 +0000</pubDate>
			<guid isPermaLink="false">https://www.artroomsgallery.com/artroomsgallery-com-blog/artroomsgallerycom-the-met-donation-of-57-works-from-black-self-taught-artists-of-the-american-south-exhibit-9f2c43/</guid>
			<description><![CDATA[<p>ART REVIEW</p><header>
<h1>At the Met, a Riveting Testament to Those Once Neglected</h1><figure>
<p><img alt="" src="https://static01.nyt.com/images/2018/05/25/arts/25NewSoul/merlin_138518505_e8f16f05-cf3b-456f-9635-5aabb274565a-articleLarge.jpg?quality=75&amp;auto=webp&amp;disable=upscale" srcset="https://static01.nyt.com/images/2018/05/25/arts/25NewSoul/merlin_138518505_e8f16f05-cf3b-456f-9635-5aabb274565a-articleLarge.jpg?quality=90&amp;auto=webp 600w, https://static01.nyt.com/images/2018/05/25/arts/25NewSoul/merlin_138518505_e8f16f05-cf3b-456f-9635-5aabb274565a-jumbo.jpg?quality=90&amp;auto=webp 1024w, https://static01.nyt.com/images/2018/05/25/arts/25NewSoul/merlin_138518505_e8f16f05-cf3b-456f-9635-5aabb274565a-superJumbo.jpg?quality=90&amp;auto=webp 2048w" sizes="((min-width: 600px) and (max-width: 1004px)) 84vw, (min-width: 1005px) 80vw, 100vw" itemprop="url" itemid="https://static01.nyt.com/images/2018/05/25/arts/25NewSoul/merlin_138518505_e8f16f05-cf3b-456f-9635-5aabb274565a-articleLarge.jpg?quality=75&amp;auto=webp&amp;disable=upscale" style="vertical-align: top; width: 945px;"></p><figcaption>Thornton Dial’s two-sided relief-painting-assemblage, “History Refused to Die” (2004), also gives this Metropolitan Museum of Art exhibition its title. His work is in conversation with quilts by, from left, Lola Pettway (“Housetop,” circa 1975); Lucy T. Pettway (“Housetop” and “Bricklayer” blocks with bars, circa 1955); and Annie Mae Young (“Work-clothes quilt with center medallion of strips,” from 1976).Credit2018 Estate of Thornton Dial/Artists Rights Society (ARS), New York; Agaton Strom for The New York Times</figcaption></figure>
<dl><dt>History Refused to Die</dt><dd>NYT Critic's Pick</dd></dl><div><div><p>By Roberta Smith</p><ul><li><time>May 24, 2018</time>American art from the 20th and 21st centuries is broader, and better than previously acknowledged, especially by museums. As these institutions struggle to become more inclusive than before, and give new prominence to neglected works, they rarely act alone. Essential help has come from people like William Arnett&nbsp;and his exemplary "Souls Grown Deep Foundation".&nbsp;Their focus is the important achievement of black self-taught artists of the American South, born of extreme deprivation and social cruelty, raw talent and fragments of lost African cultures.</li></ul></div></div></header><p>The foundation is in the process of dispersing the entirety of its considerable holdings — some 1,200 works by more than 160 artists — to museums across the country. When it is finished, it may well have an impact not unlike that of the Kress Foundation, which from 1927 to 1961 gave more than 3,000 artworks to 90 museums and study collections.</p><p>The Met was the first of the foundation’s beneficiaries, receiving a gift of 57 artworks"&nbsp;by 30 artists in 2014. Now, the museum celebrates its fortune with<a href="https://www.metmuseum.org/exhibitions/listings/2018/history-refused-to-die"> “History Refused to Die: Highlights From the Souls Grown Deep Foundation Gift.”</a> A selection of 29 pieces, many of them rarely if ever shown, it is suffused by an electrifying sense of change.</p><p><a href="http://www.soulsgrowndeep.org/gees-bend-quiltmakers"> Gee’s Bend collective</a>, especially those of the Pettway family. There are also various assemblage reliefs and sculptures by <a href="https://www.nytimes.com/2014/01/26/magazine/lonnie-holley-the-insiders-outsider.html">Lonnie Holley</a> and <a href="https://www.nytimes.com/2016/08/12/arts/design/in-sheet-metal-and-scraps-ronald-lockett-evokes-struggle-and-survival.html">Ronald Lockett</a>. And the most extensive conversation — in their endless intricacies and shared uses of fabrics, textures and the grid — is between the works of Dial, <a href="https://www.nytimes.com/2016/01/27/arts/thornton-dial-outsider-artist-whose-work-told-of-black-life-dies-at-87.html">who died in 2016</a>, and the quilters. The Dials start to seem like crazed, dimensionalized quilts, the quilts like flattened, more orderly Dials.</p><p>Nearly everything included is made from scavenged objects and materials, scraps redolent of the shameful history of black labor in the South — before 1865, of course, but also in the Jim Crow era — transformed by aesthetic intelligence and care into forms of eloquence and beauty. One of the most valuable lessons here is the works’ inherent formal and material sense of defiance, and of beauty itself as an act of resistance.</p><p><a href="https://www.nytimes.com/2018/05/23/obituaries/overlooked-esther-morris.html?recId=15Kk4os8SGJtskhIzS7daXWg7Ot&amp;geoContinent=NA&amp;geoRegion=NJ&amp;recAlloc=ctpf&amp;geoCountry=US&amp;blockId=signature-journalism&amp;action=click&amp;module=editorContent&amp;pgtype=Article&amp;region=CompanionColumn&amp;contentCollection=Trending">
</a></p><figure><p><img alt="" src="https://static01.nyt.com/images/2018/05/25/arts/25soulsgrowndeep6/25soulsgrowndeep6-superJumbo.jpg?quality=75&amp;auto=webp&amp;disable=upscale" sizes="((min-width: 600px) and (max-width: 1004px)) 84vw, (min-width: 1005px) 60vw, 100vw" itemprop="url" itemid="https://static01.nyt.com/images/2018/05/25/arts/25soulsgrowndeep6/25soulsgrowndeep6-articleLarge.jpg?quality=90&amp;auto=webp" style="vertical-align: top; transition: opacity 300ms ease-in-out; opacity: 1; display: block; width: 600px;"></p><figcaption>The bright colors and joyful asymmetry of Loretta Pettway’s “Medallion,” circa 1960, beckons visitors to this exhibition’s galleries, where a selection of 29 pieces of the Met’s gift from the Souls Grown Deep Foundation are on view.Credit2018 Loretta Pettway/Artists Rights Society (ARS), New York; Agaton Strom for the New York Times</figcaption></figure>
<div><iframe frameborder="0" src="https://tpc.googlesyndication.com/safeframe/1-0-27/html/container.html" id="google_ads_iframe_/29390238/nyt/arts/design_5" title="3rd party ad content" name="" scrolling="no" marginwidth="0" marginheight="0" width="970" height="250" data-is-safeframe="true" style="margin-bottom: 0px; vertical-align: bottom;"></iframe>The show’s two hypnotic galleries have very different emotional and visual tones. After beckoning you from down the corridor with the bright colors and joyful asymmetry of Loretta Pettway’s “Medallion” quilt (circa 1960), the exhibition starts with an elegiac room of works nearly devoid of color.<br><p>Dial’s “Shadows of the Field” (2008) evokes haunted expanses of cotton plants with the help of strips of synthetic cotton batting. Along one wall, the “work-clothes” quilts of Lucy Mingo and four other Gee’s Benders reflect lives of hard labor and scrimping; their fabrics are almost exclusively blues and gray denim whose worn textures and faded colors are masterfully played off one another.</p><p>"Bed" from 1955, which conspicuously incorporates an old quilt. Joe Minter’s 1995 symmetrical arrangement of rusted shovels, rakes, hoes and chains, seems to bless the whole room. Regal and severely gorgeous, it suggests both a group of figures and an altar. Its title pulls no punches: “Four Hundred Years of Free Labor.” Yet I also found myself thinking of the beguiling offering stand once called “Billy Goat and Tree,” from Sumer around 2600 B.C., one of the first full-page color reproductions in H.W. Janson’s “History of Art.”</p><p>"Christ's Entry Into Brussels<a href="http://www.getty.edu/art/collection/objects/811/james-ensor-christ's-entry-into-brussels-in-1889-belgian-1888/" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, Verdana, Tahoma, sans-serif;">”</a> Young’s large painting on wood shows a group of black figures, some with halos, others holding up padlocks signifying their freed minds to flocks of angels, while two immense white possibly rampant horses add to the drama. The show’s coda is Dial’s ironically titled “Victory in Iraq,” a relief-painting from 2004. It hangs just outside the second gallery, its barbed wire and twisted mesh against a field of fabric and detritus defines and holds space as lightly and powerfully as Jackson Pollock’s "Autumn Rythym"&nbsp;displayed nearby.</p><p>An enormous survey seen recently at the National Gallery of Art in Washington that argued for the integration of such work with supposedly “insider” art while also undermining that position — since the outlier works often overwhelmed everything else.</p><p>At this point I think of the words of the little boy refusing to eat his vegetables in the famous New Yorker cartoon: “I say it’s spinach, and I say the hell with it.” Let’s just call all of it art and proceed.</p><p>Let’s see the rest of the Met’s gift. Let’s see Mr. Arnett’s foundation, now headed by the experienced museum director, Maxwell Anderson, complete its task. So far it has dispersed around 20 percent of its holdings to seven museums, with the most recent gift — 34 works to the Virginia Museum of Fine Arts in Richmond — announced this week.&nbsp;By these numbers, another 40 or so museums should benefit. Every thinking American understands the suffering these artists and their ancestors have endured and should grasp the meaning of Dial’s poem of a title. History has indeed refused to die, and some of its greatest art is also ver</p></div>]]></description>
			<content:encoded><![CDATA[<p>ART REVIEW</p><header>
<h1>At the Met, a Riveting Testament to Those Once Neglected</h1><figure>
<p><img alt="" src="https://static01.nyt.com/images/2018/05/25/arts/25NewSoul/merlin_138518505_e8f16f05-cf3b-456f-9635-5aabb274565a-articleLarge.jpg?quality=75&amp;auto=webp&amp;disable=upscale" srcset="https://static01.nyt.com/images/2018/05/25/arts/25NewSoul/merlin_138518505_e8f16f05-cf3b-456f-9635-5aabb274565a-articleLarge.jpg?quality=90&amp;auto=webp 600w, https://static01.nyt.com/images/2018/05/25/arts/25NewSoul/merlin_138518505_e8f16f05-cf3b-456f-9635-5aabb274565a-jumbo.jpg?quality=90&amp;auto=webp 1024w, https://static01.nyt.com/images/2018/05/25/arts/25NewSoul/merlin_138518505_e8f16f05-cf3b-456f-9635-5aabb274565a-superJumbo.jpg?quality=90&amp;auto=webp 2048w" sizes="((min-width: 600px) and (max-width: 1004px)) 84vw, (min-width: 1005px) 80vw, 100vw" itemprop="url" itemid="https://static01.nyt.com/images/2018/05/25/arts/25NewSoul/merlin_138518505_e8f16f05-cf3b-456f-9635-5aabb274565a-articleLarge.jpg?quality=75&amp;auto=webp&amp;disable=upscale" style="vertical-align: top; width: 945px;"></p><figcaption>Thornton Dial’s two-sided relief-painting-assemblage, “History Refused to Die” (2004), also gives this Metropolitan Museum of Art exhibition its title. His work is in conversation with quilts by, from left, Lola Pettway (“Housetop,” circa 1975); Lucy T. Pettway (“Housetop” and “Bricklayer” blocks with bars, circa 1955); and Annie Mae Young (“Work-clothes quilt with center medallion of strips,” from 1976).Credit2018 Estate of Thornton Dial/Artists Rights Society (ARS), New York; Agaton Strom for The New York Times</figcaption></figure>
<dl><dt>History Refused to Die</dt><dd>NYT Critic's Pick</dd></dl><div><div><p>By Roberta Smith</p><ul><li><time>May 24, 2018</time>American art from the 20th and 21st centuries is broader, and better than previously acknowledged, especially by museums. As these institutions struggle to become more inclusive than before, and give new prominence to neglected works, they rarely act alone. Essential help has come from people like William Arnett&nbsp;and his exemplary "Souls Grown Deep Foundation".&nbsp;Their focus is the important achievement of black self-taught artists of the American South, born of extreme deprivation and social cruelty, raw talent and fragments of lost African cultures.</li></ul></div></div></header><p>The foundation is in the process of dispersing the entirety of its considerable holdings — some 1,200 works by more than 160 artists — to museums across the country. When it is finished, it may well have an impact not unlike that of the Kress Foundation, which from 1927 to 1961 gave more than 3,000 artworks to 90 museums and study collections.</p><p>The Met was the first of the foundation’s beneficiaries, receiving a gift of 57 artworks"&nbsp;by 30 artists in 2014. Now, the museum celebrates its fortune with<a href="https://www.metmuseum.org/exhibitions/listings/2018/history-refused-to-die"> “History Refused to Die: Highlights From the Souls Grown Deep Foundation Gift.”</a> A selection of 29 pieces, many of them rarely if ever shown, it is suffused by an electrifying sense of change.</p><p><a href="http://www.soulsgrowndeep.org/gees-bend-quiltmakers"> Gee’s Bend collective</a>, especially those of the Pettway family. There are also various assemblage reliefs and sculptures by <a href="https://www.nytimes.com/2014/01/26/magazine/lonnie-holley-the-insiders-outsider.html">Lonnie Holley</a> and <a href="https://www.nytimes.com/2016/08/12/arts/design/in-sheet-metal-and-scraps-ronald-lockett-evokes-struggle-and-survival.html">Ronald Lockett</a>. And the most extensive conversation — in their endless intricacies and shared uses of fabrics, textures and the grid — is between the works of Dial, <a href="https://www.nytimes.com/2016/01/27/arts/thornton-dial-outsider-artist-whose-work-told-of-black-life-dies-at-87.html">who died in 2016</a>, and the quilters. The Dials start to seem like crazed, dimensionalized quilts, the quilts like flattened, more orderly Dials.</p><p>Nearly everything included is made from scavenged objects and materials, scraps redolent of the shameful history of black labor in the South — before 1865, of course, but also in the Jim Crow era — transformed by aesthetic intelligence and care into forms of eloquence and beauty. One of the most valuable lessons here is the works’ inherent formal and material sense of defiance, and of beauty itself as an act of resistance.</p><p><a href="https://www.nytimes.com/2018/05/23/obituaries/overlooked-esther-morris.html?recId=15Kk4os8SGJtskhIzS7daXWg7Ot&amp;geoContinent=NA&amp;geoRegion=NJ&amp;recAlloc=ctpf&amp;geoCountry=US&amp;blockId=signature-journalism&amp;action=click&amp;module=editorContent&amp;pgtype=Article&amp;region=CompanionColumn&amp;contentCollection=Trending">
</a></p><figure><p><img alt="" src="https://static01.nyt.com/images/2018/05/25/arts/25soulsgrowndeep6/25soulsgrowndeep6-superJumbo.jpg?quality=75&amp;auto=webp&amp;disable=upscale" sizes="((min-width: 600px) and (max-width: 1004px)) 84vw, (min-width: 1005px) 60vw, 100vw" itemprop="url" itemid="https://static01.nyt.com/images/2018/05/25/arts/25soulsgrowndeep6/25soulsgrowndeep6-articleLarge.jpg?quality=90&amp;auto=webp" style="vertical-align: top; transition: opacity 300ms ease-in-out; opacity: 1; display: block; width: 600px;"></p><figcaption>The bright colors and joyful asymmetry of Loretta Pettway’s “Medallion,” circa 1960, beckons visitors to this exhibition’s galleries, where a selection of 29 pieces of the Met’s gift from the Souls Grown Deep Foundation are on view.Credit2018 Loretta Pettway/Artists Rights Society (ARS), New York; Agaton Strom for the New York Times</figcaption></figure>
<div><iframe frameborder="0" src="https://tpc.googlesyndication.com/safeframe/1-0-27/html/container.html" id="google_ads_iframe_/29390238/nyt/arts/design_5" title="3rd party ad content" name="" scrolling="no" marginwidth="0" marginheight="0" width="970" height="250" data-is-safeframe="true" style="margin-bottom: 0px; vertical-align: bottom;"></iframe>The show’s two hypnotic galleries have very different emotional and visual tones. After beckoning you from down the corridor with the bright colors and joyful asymmetry of Loretta Pettway’s “Medallion” quilt (circa 1960), the exhibition starts with an elegiac room of works nearly devoid of color.<br><p>Dial’s “Shadows of the Field” (2008) evokes haunted expanses of cotton plants with the help of strips of synthetic cotton batting. Along one wall, the “work-clothes” quilts of Lucy Mingo and four other Gee’s Benders reflect lives of hard labor and scrimping; their fabrics are almost exclusively blues and gray denim whose worn textures and faded colors are masterfully played off one another.</p><p>"Bed" from 1955, which conspicuously incorporates an old quilt. Joe Minter’s 1995 symmetrical arrangement of rusted shovels, rakes, hoes and chains, seems to bless the whole room. Regal and severely gorgeous, it suggests both a group of figures and an altar. Its title pulls no punches: “Four Hundred Years of Free Labor.” Yet I also found myself thinking of the beguiling offering stand once called “Billy Goat and Tree,” from Sumer around 2600 B.C., one of the first full-page color reproductions in H.W. Janson’s “History of Art.”</p><p>"Christ's Entry Into Brussels<a href="http://www.getty.edu/art/collection/objects/811/james-ensor-christ's-entry-into-brussels-in-1889-belgian-1888/" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, Verdana, Tahoma, sans-serif;">”</a> Young’s large painting on wood shows a group of black figures, some with halos, others holding up padlocks signifying their freed minds to flocks of angels, while two immense white possibly rampant horses add to the drama. The show’s coda is Dial’s ironically titled “Victory in Iraq,” a relief-painting from 2004. It hangs just outside the second gallery, its barbed wire and twisted mesh against a field of fabric and detritus defines and holds space as lightly and powerfully as Jackson Pollock’s "Autumn Rythym"&nbsp;displayed nearby.</p><p>An enormous survey seen recently at the National Gallery of Art in Washington that argued for the integration of such work with supposedly “insider” art while also undermining that position — since the outlier works often overwhelmed everything else.</p><p>At this point I think of the words of the little boy refusing to eat his vegetables in the famous New Yorker cartoon: “I say it’s spinach, and I say the hell with it.” Let’s just call all of it art and proceed.</p><p>Let’s see the rest of the Met’s gift. Let’s see Mr. Arnett’s foundation, now headed by the experienced museum director, Maxwell Anderson, complete its task. So far it has dispersed around 20 percent of its holdings to seven museums, with the most recent gift — 34 works to the Virginia Museum of Fine Arts in Richmond — announced this week.&nbsp;By these numbers, another 40 or so museums should benefit. Every thinking American understands the suffering these artists and their ancestors have endured and should grasp the meaning of Dial’s poem of a title. History has indeed refused to die, and some of its greatest art is also ver</p></div>]]></content:encoded>
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			<title><![CDATA[ArtRoomsGallery.com: The Met  Donation of 57 Works from Black Self Taught Artists of the American South Exhibit]]></title>
			<link>https://www.artroomsgallery.com/artroomsgallery-com-blog/artroomsgallerycom-the-met-donation-of-57-works-from-black-self-taught-artists-of-the-american-south-exhibit/</link>
			<pubDate>Wed, 30 May 2018 12:47:21 +0000</pubDate>
			<guid isPermaLink="false">https://www.artroomsgallery.com/artroomsgallery-com-blog/artroomsgallerycom-the-met-donation-of-57-works-from-black-self-taught-artists-of-the-american-south-exhibit/</guid>
			<description><![CDATA[<p>ART REVIEW</p><header>
<h1>At the Met, a Riveting Testament to Those Once Neglected</h1><figure>
<p><img alt="" src="https://static01.nyt.com/images/2018/05/25/arts/25NewSoul/merlin_138518505_e8f16f05-cf3b-456f-9635-5aabb274565a-articleLarge.jpg?quality=75&amp;auto=webp&amp;disable=upscale" srcset="https://static01.nyt.com/images/2018/05/25/arts/25NewSoul/merlin_138518505_e8f16f05-cf3b-456f-9635-5aabb274565a-articleLarge.jpg?quality=90&amp;auto=webp 600w, https://static01.nyt.com/images/2018/05/25/arts/25NewSoul/merlin_138518505_e8f16f05-cf3b-456f-9635-5aabb274565a-jumbo.jpg?quality=90&amp;auto=webp 1024w, https://static01.nyt.com/images/2018/05/25/arts/25NewSoul/merlin_138518505_e8f16f05-cf3b-456f-9635-5aabb274565a-superJumbo.jpg?quality=90&amp;auto=webp 2048w" sizes="((min-width: 600px) and (max-width: 1004px)) 84vw, (min-width: 1005px) 80vw, 100vw" itemprop="url" itemid="https://static01.nyt.com/images/2018/05/25/arts/25NewSoul/merlin_138518505_e8f16f05-cf3b-456f-9635-5aabb274565a-articleLarge.jpg?quality=75&amp;auto=webp&amp;disable=upscale" style="vertical-align: top; width: 945px;"></p><figcaption>Thornton Dial’s two-sided relief-painting-assemblage, “History Refused to Die” (2004), also gives this Metropolitan Museum of Art exhibition its title. His work is in conversation with quilts by, from left, Lola Pettway (“Housetop,” circa 1975); Lucy T. Pettway (“Housetop” and “Bricklayer” blocks with bars, circa 1955); and Annie Mae Young (“Work-clothes quilt with center medallion of strips,” from 1976).Credit2018 Estate of Thornton Dial/Artists Rights Society (ARS), New York; Agaton Strom for The New York Times</figcaption></figure>
<dl><dt>History Refused to Die</dt><dd>NYT Critic's Pick</dd></dl><div><div><p>By Roberta Smith</p><ul><li><time>May 24, 2018</time>American art from the 20th and 21st centuries is broader, and better than previously acknowledged, especially by museums. As these institutions struggle to become more inclusive than before, and give new prominence to neglected works, they rarely act alone. Essential help has come from people like William Arnett&nbsp;and his exemplary "Souls Grown Deep Foundation".&nbsp;Their focus is the important achievement of black self-taught artists of the American South, born of extreme deprivation and social cruelty, raw talent and fragments of lost African cultures.</li></ul></div></div></header><p>The foundation is in the process of dispersing the entirety of its considerable holdings — some 1,200 works by more than 160 artists — to museums across the country. When it is finished, it may well have an impact not unlike that of the Kress Foundation, which from 1927 to 1961 gave more than 3,000 artworks to 90 museums and study collections.</p><p>The Met was the first of the foundation’s beneficiaries, receiving a gift of 57 artworks"&nbsp;by 30 artists in 2014. Now, the museum celebrates its fortune with<a href="https://www.metmuseum.org/exhibitions/listings/2018/history-refused-to-die"> “History Refused to Die: Highlights From the Souls Grown Deep Foundation Gift.”</a> A selection of 29 pieces, many of them rarely if ever shown, it is suffused by an electrifying sense of change.</p><p><a href="http://www.soulsgrowndeep.org/gees-bend-quiltmakers"> Gee’s Bend collective</a>, especially those of the Pettway family. There are also various assemblage reliefs and sculptures by <a href="https://www.nytimes.com/2014/01/26/magazine/lonnie-holley-the-insiders-outsider.html">Lonnie Holley</a> and <a href="https://www.nytimes.com/2016/08/12/arts/design/in-sheet-metal-and-scraps-ronald-lockett-evokes-struggle-and-survival.html">Ronald Lockett</a>. And the most extensive conversation — in their endless intricacies and shared uses of fabrics, textures and the grid — is between the works of Dial, <a href="https://www.nytimes.com/2016/01/27/arts/thornton-dial-outsider-artist-whose-work-told-of-black-life-dies-at-87.html">who died in 2016</a>, and the quilters. The Dials start to seem like crazed, dimensionalized quilts, the quilts like flattened, more orderly Dials.</p><p>Nearly everything included is made from scavenged objects and materials, scraps redolent of the shameful history of black labor in the South — before 1865, of course, but also in the Jim Crow era — transformed by aesthetic intelligence and care into forms of eloquence and beauty. One of the most valuable lessons here is the works’ inherent formal and material sense of defiance, and of beauty itself as an act of resistance.</p><p><a href="https://www.nytimes.com/2018/05/23/obituaries/overlooked-esther-morris.html?recId=15Kk4os8SGJtskhIzS7daXWg7Ot&amp;geoContinent=NA&amp;geoRegion=NJ&amp;recAlloc=ctpf&amp;geoCountry=US&amp;blockId=signature-journalism&amp;action=click&amp;module=editorContent&amp;pgtype=Article&amp;region=CompanionColumn&amp;contentCollection=Trending">
</a></p><figure><p><img alt="" src="https://static01.nyt.com/images/2018/05/25/arts/25soulsgrowndeep6/25soulsgrowndeep6-superJumbo.jpg?quality=75&amp;auto=webp&amp;disable=upscale" sizes="((min-width: 600px) and (max-width: 1004px)) 84vw, (min-width: 1005px) 60vw, 100vw" itemprop="url" itemid="https://static01.nyt.com/images/2018/05/25/arts/25soulsgrowndeep6/25soulsgrowndeep6-articleLarge.jpg?quality=90&amp;auto=webp" style="vertical-align: top; transition: opacity 300ms ease-in-out; opacity: 1; display: block; width: 600px;"></p><figcaption>The bright colors and joyful asymmetry of Loretta Pettway’s “Medallion,” circa 1960, beckons visitors to this exhibition’s galleries, where a selection of 29 pieces of the Met’s gift from the Souls Grown Deep Foundation are on view.Credit2018 Loretta Pettway/Artists Rights Society (ARS), New York; Agaton Strom for the New York Times</figcaption></figure>
<div><iframe frameborder="0" src="https://tpc.googlesyndication.com/safeframe/1-0-27/html/container.html" id="google_ads_iframe_/29390238/nyt/arts/design_5" title="3rd party ad content" name="" scrolling="no" marginwidth="0" marginheight="0" width="970" height="250" data-is-safeframe="true" style="margin-bottom: 0px; vertical-align: bottom;"></iframe>The show’s two hypnotic galleries have very different emotional and visual tones. After beckoning you from down the corridor with the bright colors and joyful asymmetry of Loretta Pettway’s “Medallion” quilt (circa 1960), the exhibition starts with an elegiac room of works nearly devoid of color.<br><p>Dial’s “Shadows of the Field” (2008) evokes haunted expanses of cotton plants with the help of strips of synthetic cotton batting. Along one wall, the “work-clothes” quilts of Lucy Mingo and four other Gee’s Benders reflect lives of hard labor and scrimping; their fabrics are almost exclusively blues and gray denim whose worn textures and faded colors are masterfully played off one another.</p><p>"Bed" from 1955, which conspicuously incorporates an old quilt. Joe Minter’s 1995 symmetrical arrangement of rusted shovels, rakes, hoes and chains, seems to bless the whole room. Regal and severely gorgeous, it suggests both a group of figures and an altar. Its title pulls no punches: “Four Hundred Years of Free Labor.” Yet I also found myself thinking of the beguiling offering stand once called “Billy Goat and Tree,” from Sumer around 2600 B.C., one of the first full-page color reproductions in H.W. Janson’s “History of Art.”</p><p>"Christ's Entry Into Brussels<a href="http://www.getty.edu/art/collection/objects/811/james-ensor-christ's-entry-into-brussels-in-1889-belgian-1888/" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, Verdana, Tahoma, sans-serif;">”</a> Young’s large painting on wood shows a group of black figures, some with halos, others holding up padlocks signifying their freed minds to flocks of angels, while two immense white possibly rampant horses add to the drama. The show’s coda is Dial’s ironically titled “Victory in Iraq,” a relief-painting from 2004. It hangs just outside the second gallery, its barbed wire and twisted mesh against a field of fabric and detritus defines and holds space as lightly and powerfully as Jackson Pollock’s "Autumn Rythym"&nbsp;displayed nearby.</p><p>An enormous survey seen recently at the National Gallery of Art in Washington that argued for the integration of such work with supposedly “insider” art while also undermining that position — since the outlier works often overwhelmed everything else.</p><p>At this point I think of the words of the little boy refusing to eat his vegetables in the famous New Yorker cartoon: “I say it’s spinach, and I say the hell with it.” Let’s just call all of it art and proceed.</p><p>Let’s see the rest of the Met’s gift. Let’s see Mr. Arnett’s foundation, now headed by the experienced museum director, Maxwell Anderson, complete its task. So far it has dispersed around 20 percent of its holdings to seven museums, with the most recent gift — 34 works to the Virginia Museum of Fine Arts in Richmond — announced this week.&nbsp;By these numbers, another 40 or so museums should benefit. Every thinking American understands the suffering these artists and their ancestors have endured and should grasp the meaning of Dial’s poem of a title. History has indeed refused to die, and some of its greatest art is also ver</p></div>]]></description>
			<content:encoded><![CDATA[<p>ART REVIEW</p><header>
<h1>At the Met, a Riveting Testament to Those Once Neglected</h1><figure>
<p><img alt="" src="https://static01.nyt.com/images/2018/05/25/arts/25NewSoul/merlin_138518505_e8f16f05-cf3b-456f-9635-5aabb274565a-articleLarge.jpg?quality=75&amp;auto=webp&amp;disable=upscale" srcset="https://static01.nyt.com/images/2018/05/25/arts/25NewSoul/merlin_138518505_e8f16f05-cf3b-456f-9635-5aabb274565a-articleLarge.jpg?quality=90&amp;auto=webp 600w, https://static01.nyt.com/images/2018/05/25/arts/25NewSoul/merlin_138518505_e8f16f05-cf3b-456f-9635-5aabb274565a-jumbo.jpg?quality=90&amp;auto=webp 1024w, https://static01.nyt.com/images/2018/05/25/arts/25NewSoul/merlin_138518505_e8f16f05-cf3b-456f-9635-5aabb274565a-superJumbo.jpg?quality=90&amp;auto=webp 2048w" sizes="((min-width: 600px) and (max-width: 1004px)) 84vw, (min-width: 1005px) 80vw, 100vw" itemprop="url" itemid="https://static01.nyt.com/images/2018/05/25/arts/25NewSoul/merlin_138518505_e8f16f05-cf3b-456f-9635-5aabb274565a-articleLarge.jpg?quality=75&amp;auto=webp&amp;disable=upscale" style="vertical-align: top; width: 945px;"></p><figcaption>Thornton Dial’s two-sided relief-painting-assemblage, “History Refused to Die” (2004), also gives this Metropolitan Museum of Art exhibition its title. His work is in conversation with quilts by, from left, Lola Pettway (“Housetop,” circa 1975); Lucy T. Pettway (“Housetop” and “Bricklayer” blocks with bars, circa 1955); and Annie Mae Young (“Work-clothes quilt with center medallion of strips,” from 1976).Credit2018 Estate of Thornton Dial/Artists Rights Society (ARS), New York; Agaton Strom for The New York Times</figcaption></figure>
<dl><dt>History Refused to Die</dt><dd>NYT Critic's Pick</dd></dl><div><div><p>By Roberta Smith</p><ul><li><time>May 24, 2018</time>American art from the 20th and 21st centuries is broader, and better than previously acknowledged, especially by museums. As these institutions struggle to become more inclusive than before, and give new prominence to neglected works, they rarely act alone. Essential help has come from people like William Arnett&nbsp;and his exemplary "Souls Grown Deep Foundation".&nbsp;Their focus is the important achievement of black self-taught artists of the American South, born of extreme deprivation and social cruelty, raw talent and fragments of lost African cultures.</li></ul></div></div></header><p>The foundation is in the process of dispersing the entirety of its considerable holdings — some 1,200 works by more than 160 artists — to museums across the country. When it is finished, it may well have an impact not unlike that of the Kress Foundation, which from 1927 to 1961 gave more than 3,000 artworks to 90 museums and study collections.</p><p>The Met was the first of the foundation’s beneficiaries, receiving a gift of 57 artworks"&nbsp;by 30 artists in 2014. Now, the museum celebrates its fortune with<a href="https://www.metmuseum.org/exhibitions/listings/2018/history-refused-to-die"> “History Refused to Die: Highlights From the Souls Grown Deep Foundation Gift.”</a> A selection of 29 pieces, many of them rarely if ever shown, it is suffused by an electrifying sense of change.</p><p><a href="http://www.soulsgrowndeep.org/gees-bend-quiltmakers"> Gee’s Bend collective</a>, especially those of the Pettway family. There are also various assemblage reliefs and sculptures by <a href="https://www.nytimes.com/2014/01/26/magazine/lonnie-holley-the-insiders-outsider.html">Lonnie Holley</a> and <a href="https://www.nytimes.com/2016/08/12/arts/design/in-sheet-metal-and-scraps-ronald-lockett-evokes-struggle-and-survival.html">Ronald Lockett</a>. And the most extensive conversation — in their endless intricacies and shared uses of fabrics, textures and the grid — is between the works of Dial, <a href="https://www.nytimes.com/2016/01/27/arts/thornton-dial-outsider-artist-whose-work-told-of-black-life-dies-at-87.html">who died in 2016</a>, and the quilters. The Dials start to seem like crazed, dimensionalized quilts, the quilts like flattened, more orderly Dials.</p><p>Nearly everything included is made from scavenged objects and materials, scraps redolent of the shameful history of black labor in the South — before 1865, of course, but also in the Jim Crow era — transformed by aesthetic intelligence and care into forms of eloquence and beauty. One of the most valuable lessons here is the works’ inherent formal and material sense of defiance, and of beauty itself as an act of resistance.</p><p><a href="https://www.nytimes.com/2018/05/23/obituaries/overlooked-esther-morris.html?recId=15Kk4os8SGJtskhIzS7daXWg7Ot&amp;geoContinent=NA&amp;geoRegion=NJ&amp;recAlloc=ctpf&amp;geoCountry=US&amp;blockId=signature-journalism&amp;action=click&amp;module=editorContent&amp;pgtype=Article&amp;region=CompanionColumn&amp;contentCollection=Trending">
</a></p><figure><p><img alt="" src="https://static01.nyt.com/images/2018/05/25/arts/25soulsgrowndeep6/25soulsgrowndeep6-superJumbo.jpg?quality=75&amp;auto=webp&amp;disable=upscale" sizes="((min-width: 600px) and (max-width: 1004px)) 84vw, (min-width: 1005px) 60vw, 100vw" itemprop="url" itemid="https://static01.nyt.com/images/2018/05/25/arts/25soulsgrowndeep6/25soulsgrowndeep6-articleLarge.jpg?quality=90&amp;auto=webp" style="vertical-align: top; transition: opacity 300ms ease-in-out; opacity: 1; display: block; width: 600px;"></p><figcaption>The bright colors and joyful asymmetry of Loretta Pettway’s “Medallion,” circa 1960, beckons visitors to this exhibition’s galleries, where a selection of 29 pieces of the Met’s gift from the Souls Grown Deep Foundation are on view.Credit2018 Loretta Pettway/Artists Rights Society (ARS), New York; Agaton Strom for the New York Times</figcaption></figure>
<div><iframe frameborder="0" src="https://tpc.googlesyndication.com/safeframe/1-0-27/html/container.html" id="google_ads_iframe_/29390238/nyt/arts/design_5" title="3rd party ad content" name="" scrolling="no" marginwidth="0" marginheight="0" width="970" height="250" data-is-safeframe="true" style="margin-bottom: 0px; vertical-align: bottom;"></iframe>The show’s two hypnotic galleries have very different emotional and visual tones. After beckoning you from down the corridor with the bright colors and joyful asymmetry of Loretta Pettway’s “Medallion” quilt (circa 1960), the exhibition starts with an elegiac room of works nearly devoid of color.<br><p>Dial’s “Shadows of the Field” (2008) evokes haunted expanses of cotton plants with the help of strips of synthetic cotton batting. Along one wall, the “work-clothes” quilts of Lucy Mingo and four other Gee’s Benders reflect lives of hard labor and scrimping; their fabrics are almost exclusively blues and gray denim whose worn textures and faded colors are masterfully played off one another.</p><p>"Bed" from 1955, which conspicuously incorporates an old quilt. Joe Minter’s 1995 symmetrical arrangement of rusted shovels, rakes, hoes and chains, seems to bless the whole room. Regal and severely gorgeous, it suggests both a group of figures and an altar. Its title pulls no punches: “Four Hundred Years of Free Labor.” Yet I also found myself thinking of the beguiling offering stand once called “Billy Goat and Tree,” from Sumer around 2600 B.C., one of the first full-page color reproductions in H.W. Janson’s “History of Art.”</p><p>"Christ's Entry Into Brussels<a href="http://www.getty.edu/art/collection/objects/811/james-ensor-christ's-entry-into-brussels-in-1889-belgian-1888/" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, Verdana, Tahoma, sans-serif;">”</a> Young’s large painting on wood shows a group of black figures, some with halos, others holding up padlocks signifying their freed minds to flocks of angels, while two immense white possibly rampant horses add to the drama. The show’s coda is Dial’s ironically titled “Victory in Iraq,” a relief-painting from 2004. It hangs just outside the second gallery, its barbed wire and twisted mesh against a field of fabric and detritus defines and holds space as lightly and powerfully as Jackson Pollock’s "Autumn Rythym"&nbsp;displayed nearby.</p><p>An enormous survey seen recently at the National Gallery of Art in Washington that argued for the integration of such work with supposedly “insider” art while also undermining that position — since the outlier works often overwhelmed everything else.</p><p>At this point I think of the words of the little boy refusing to eat his vegetables in the famous New Yorker cartoon: “I say it’s spinach, and I say the hell with it.” Let’s just call all of it art and proceed.</p><p>Let’s see the rest of the Met’s gift. Let’s see Mr. Arnett’s foundation, now headed by the experienced museum director, Maxwell Anderson, complete its task. So far it has dispersed around 20 percent of its holdings to seven museums, with the most recent gift — 34 works to the Virginia Museum of Fine Arts in Richmond — announced this week.&nbsp;By these numbers, another 40 or so museums should benefit. Every thinking American understands the suffering these artists and their ancestors have endured and should grasp the meaning of Dial’s poem of a title. History has indeed refused to die, and some of its greatest art is also ver</p></div>]]></content:encoded>
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			<title><![CDATA[ARTRoomsGallery.com: Gerhard Richter Sells Art to Build Houses for the Homeless]]></title>
			<link>https://www.artroomsgallery.com/artroomsgallery-com-blog/artroomsgallerycom-gerhard-richter-sells-art-to-build-houses-for-the-homeless-aa06e2/</link>
			<pubDate>Tue, 29 May 2018 13:44:42 +0000</pubDate>
			<guid isPermaLink="false">https://www.artroomsgallery.com/artroomsgallery-com-blog/artroomsgallerycom-gerhard-richter-sells-art-to-build-houses-for-the-homeless-aa06e2/</guid>
			<description><![CDATA[<h1>Gerhard Richter Is Selling Over $1 Million of His Art to Help Build 100 Houses for the Homeless</h1><p>The German artist is donating 18 works to fund the initiative.</p><p><time>Kate Brown May 24, 2018</time></p><figure><img src="https://news.artnet.com/app/news-upload/2018/05/GettyImages-464458530-1024x576.jpg" alt="" title="" style="box-sizing: border-box;">
<figcaption>German painter Gerhard Richter poses in front of his works <em>Abstrakte Bilder</em>. Photo ARNO BURGI/AFP/Getty Images.</figcaption></figure>
<p>A major donation from Germany’s most famous—and most expensive—living artist, <a href="http://www.artnet.com/artists/gerhard-richter/">Gerhard Richter</a>, will help finance the construction of 100 units of permanent housing for the homeless in the North Rhine-Westphalia of Germany, a region that encompasses Düsseldorf and Cologne.</p><p>The works—a special edition of color offsets from 2015 that are part of Richter’s ongoing series “Cage f.ff”—are available as three sets of six. They are being offered by fiftyfifty, a magazine and charitable organization for the homeless. The hand-signed works are priced at €420,000 ($493,080). They may also be bid on individually through fiftyfifty’s <a href="http://www.fiftyfifty-galerie.de/">website</a>.</p><p>All told, the sale is expected to generate €1 million to €1.2 million for the Housing First Fund, which seeks to provide people experiencing homelessness with permanent housing. Richter’s donation will be augmented by €424,000 ($497,477) in state funding, North Rhine-Westphalia announced on Wednesday.</p><p><img src="https://news.artnet.com/app/news-upload/2018/05/G.-Richter-Cage-II-1024x1024.jpg" alt="" width="1024" height="1024" style="box-sizing: border-box;"></p><p>Gerhard Richter’s <em>Cage II</em>, one of the 18 works the artists is donating. Courtesy fiftyfifty.</p><p>After fiftyfifty launched Housing First in 2014, it began buying up real estate in Düsseldorf to rent to homeless people throughout the city, giving them their own leases and helping them with furnishings. The organization has previously offered editions by artists including Andreas Gursky&nbsp;and Jeff Koons.&nbsp;Richter also donated works to the initiative in 2015.</p><div><p>“Years ago, we explained the concept for housing the homeless to Richter,” says Julia von Lindern, the head of the Housing First project at fiftyfifty. “Right away, he was sure that it could work and the benefit of the sale of his works could and should be spent on the apartment project. That was the beginning. Now we are trying to transform that idea around the larger region.”</p><p>The latest round of fundraising will allow the Housing First Fund to extend the concept across the North Rhine-Westphalia for the first time. (Alongside fiftyfifty, the charity organization Parity NRW is a major supporter of the pilot project.)</p><p>Richter has been based in the region for decades, though he recently resettled in Cologne after living in Düsseldorf for many years. He studied at the art academy in Düsseldorf before becoming a professor at the school until 1993. There are an estimated 2,000 homeless people in the city, which is one of Germany’s priciest.</p><p>Last year, Richter was listed as one of Germany’s richest people; he has an estimated fortune of around €700 million ($821 million).</p><p>The 86-year-old artist has been in a particularly charitable mood in the past year. Last summer, Richter announced he would give his series “Birkenau” to the German Reichstag and donated a photographic version of his famous painting <em>Aunt Marianne</em>(1987) to a memorial in Saxony dedicated to the victims of forced euthanasia under the Nazi regime. Last September, he volunteered to donate a site-specific work&nbsp;to the city of Münster in Westphalia.</p><p>We reached out to Richter’s Düsseldorf gallery for comment on the latest gift, but did not receive a response by the time of publishing.</p><p>“It’s a win-win situation,” says von Lindern. “You can own a beautiful picture by Gerhard and you can also doing something really beneficial for the homeless.”</p><p>Courtesy Artnet news</p></div>]]></description>
			<content:encoded><![CDATA[<h1>Gerhard Richter Is Selling Over $1 Million of His Art to Help Build 100 Houses for the Homeless</h1><p>The German artist is donating 18 works to fund the initiative.</p><p><time>Kate Brown May 24, 2018</time></p><figure><img src="https://news.artnet.com/app/news-upload/2018/05/GettyImages-464458530-1024x576.jpg" alt="" title="" style="box-sizing: border-box;">
<figcaption>German painter Gerhard Richter poses in front of his works <em>Abstrakte Bilder</em>. Photo ARNO BURGI/AFP/Getty Images.</figcaption></figure>
<p>A major donation from Germany’s most famous—and most expensive—living artist, <a href="http://www.artnet.com/artists/gerhard-richter/">Gerhard Richter</a>, will help finance the construction of 100 units of permanent housing for the homeless in the North Rhine-Westphalia of Germany, a region that encompasses Düsseldorf and Cologne.</p><p>The works—a special edition of color offsets from 2015 that are part of Richter’s ongoing series “Cage f.ff”—are available as three sets of six. They are being offered by fiftyfifty, a magazine and charitable organization for the homeless. The hand-signed works are priced at €420,000 ($493,080). They may also be bid on individually through fiftyfifty’s <a href="http://www.fiftyfifty-galerie.de/">website</a>.</p><p>All told, the sale is expected to generate €1 million to €1.2 million for the Housing First Fund, which seeks to provide people experiencing homelessness with permanent housing. Richter’s donation will be augmented by €424,000 ($497,477) in state funding, North Rhine-Westphalia announced on Wednesday.</p><p><img src="https://news.artnet.com/app/news-upload/2018/05/G.-Richter-Cage-II-1024x1024.jpg" alt="" width="1024" height="1024" style="box-sizing: border-box;"></p><p>Gerhard Richter’s <em>Cage II</em>, one of the 18 works the artists is donating. Courtesy fiftyfifty.</p><p>After fiftyfifty launched Housing First in 2014, it began buying up real estate in Düsseldorf to rent to homeless people throughout the city, giving them their own leases and helping them with furnishings. The organization has previously offered editions by artists including Andreas Gursky&nbsp;and Jeff Koons.&nbsp;Richter also donated works to the initiative in 2015.</p><div><p>“Years ago, we explained the concept for housing the homeless to Richter,” says Julia von Lindern, the head of the Housing First project at fiftyfifty. “Right away, he was sure that it could work and the benefit of the sale of his works could and should be spent on the apartment project. That was the beginning. Now we are trying to transform that idea around the larger region.”</p><p>The latest round of fundraising will allow the Housing First Fund to extend the concept across the North Rhine-Westphalia for the first time. (Alongside fiftyfifty, the charity organization Parity NRW is a major supporter of the pilot project.)</p><p>Richter has been based in the region for decades, though he recently resettled in Cologne after living in Düsseldorf for many years. He studied at the art academy in Düsseldorf before becoming a professor at the school until 1993. There are an estimated 2,000 homeless people in the city, which is one of Germany’s priciest.</p><p>Last year, Richter was listed as one of Germany’s richest people; he has an estimated fortune of around €700 million ($821 million).</p><p>The 86-year-old artist has been in a particularly charitable mood in the past year. Last summer, Richter announced he would give his series “Birkenau” to the German Reichstag and donated a photographic version of his famous painting <em>Aunt Marianne</em>(1987) to a memorial in Saxony dedicated to the victims of forced euthanasia under the Nazi regime. Last September, he volunteered to donate a site-specific work&nbsp;to the city of Münster in Westphalia.</p><p>We reached out to Richter’s Düsseldorf gallery for comment on the latest gift, but did not receive a response by the time of publishing.</p><p>“It’s a win-win situation,” says von Lindern. “You can own a beautiful picture by Gerhard and you can also doing something really beneficial for the homeless.”</p><p>Courtesy Artnet news</p></div>]]></content:encoded>
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			<title><![CDATA[ARTRoomsGallery.com: Gerhard Richter Sells Art to Build Houses for the Homeless]]></title>
			<link>https://www.artroomsgallery.com/artroomsgallery-com-blog/artroomsgallerycom-gerhard-richter-sells-art-to-build-houses-for-the-homeless/</link>
			<pubDate>Tue, 29 May 2018 13:44:42 +0000</pubDate>
			<guid isPermaLink="false">https://www.artroomsgallery.com/artroomsgallery-com-blog/artroomsgallerycom-gerhard-richter-sells-art-to-build-houses-for-the-homeless/</guid>
			<description><![CDATA[<h1>Gerhard Richter Is Selling Over $1 Million of His Art to Help Build 100 Houses for the Homeless</h1><p>The German artist is donating 18 works to fund the initiative.</p><p><time>Kate Brown May 24, 2018</time></p><figure><img src="https://news.artnet.com/app/news-upload/2018/05/GettyImages-464458530-1024x576.jpg" alt="" title="" style="box-sizing: border-box;">
<figcaption>German painter Gerhard Richter poses in front of his works <em>Abstrakte Bilder</em>. Photo ARNO BURGI/AFP/Getty Images.</figcaption></figure>
<p>A major donation from Germany’s most famous—and most expensive—living artist, <a href="http://www.artnet.com/artists/gerhard-richter/">Gerhard Richter</a>, will help finance the construction of 100 units of permanent housing for the homeless in the North Rhine-Westphalia of Germany, a region that encompasses Düsseldorf and Cologne.</p><p>The works—a special edition of color offsets from 2015 that are part of Richter’s ongoing series “Cage f.ff”—are available as three sets of six. They are being offered by fiftyfifty, a magazine and charitable organization for the homeless. The hand-signed works are priced at €420,000 ($493,080). They may also be bid on individually through fiftyfifty’s <a href="http://www.fiftyfifty-galerie.de/">website</a>.</p><p>All told, the sale is expected to generate €1 million to €1.2 million for the Housing First Fund, which seeks to provide people experiencing homelessness with permanent housing. Richter’s donation will be augmented by €424,000 ($497,477) in state funding, North Rhine-Westphalia announced on Wednesday.</p><p><img src="https://news.artnet.com/app/news-upload/2018/05/G.-Richter-Cage-II-1024x1024.jpg" alt="" width="1024" height="1024" style="box-sizing: border-box;"></p><p>Gerhard Richter’s <em>Cage II</em>, one of the 18 works the artists is donating. Courtesy fiftyfifty.</p><p>After fiftyfifty launched Housing First in 2014, it began buying up real estate in Düsseldorf to rent to homeless people throughout the city, giving them their own leases and helping them with furnishings. The organization has previously offered editions by artists including Andreas Gursky&nbsp;and Jeff Koons.&nbsp;Richter also donated works to the initiative in 2015.</p><div><p>“Years ago, we explained the concept for housing the homeless to Richter,” says Julia von Lindern, the head of the Housing First project at fiftyfifty. “Right away, he was sure that it could work and the benefit of the sale of his works could and should be spent on the apartment project. That was the beginning. Now we are trying to transform that idea around the larger region.”</p><p>The latest round of fundraising will allow the Housing First Fund to extend the concept across the North Rhine-Westphalia for the first time. (Alongside fiftyfifty, the charity organization Parity NRW is a major supporter of the pilot project.)</p><p>Richter has been based in the region for decades, though he recently resettled in Cologne after living in Düsseldorf for many years. He studied at the art academy in Düsseldorf before becoming a professor at the school until 1993. There are an estimated 2,000 homeless people in the city, which is one of Germany’s priciest.</p><p>Last year, Richter was listed as one of Germany’s richest people; he has an estimated fortune of around €700 million ($821 million).</p><p>The 86-year-old artist has been in a particularly charitable mood in the past year. Last summer, Richter announced he would give his series “Birkenau” to the German Reichstag and donated a photographic version of his famous painting <em>Aunt Marianne</em>(1987) to a memorial in Saxony dedicated to the victims of forced euthanasia under the Nazi regime. Last September, he volunteered to donate a site-specific work&nbsp;to the city of Münster in Westphalia.</p><p>We reached out to Richter’s Düsseldorf gallery for comment on the latest gift, but did not receive a response by the time of publishing.</p><p>“It’s a win-win situation,” says von Lindern. “You can own a beautiful picture by Gerhard and you can also doing something really beneficial for the homeless.”</p><p>Courtesy Artnet news</p></div>]]></description>
			<content:encoded><![CDATA[<h1>Gerhard Richter Is Selling Over $1 Million of His Art to Help Build 100 Houses for the Homeless</h1><p>The German artist is donating 18 works to fund the initiative.</p><p><time>Kate Brown May 24, 2018</time></p><figure><img src="https://news.artnet.com/app/news-upload/2018/05/GettyImages-464458530-1024x576.jpg" alt="" title="" style="box-sizing: border-box;">
<figcaption>German painter Gerhard Richter poses in front of his works <em>Abstrakte Bilder</em>. Photo ARNO BURGI/AFP/Getty Images.</figcaption></figure>
<p>A major donation from Germany’s most famous—and most expensive—living artist, <a href="http://www.artnet.com/artists/gerhard-richter/">Gerhard Richter</a>, will help finance the construction of 100 units of permanent housing for the homeless in the North Rhine-Westphalia of Germany, a region that encompasses Düsseldorf and Cologne.</p><p>The works—a special edition of color offsets from 2015 that are part of Richter’s ongoing series “Cage f.ff”—are available as three sets of six. They are being offered by fiftyfifty, a magazine and charitable organization for the homeless. The hand-signed works are priced at €420,000 ($493,080). They may also be bid on individually through fiftyfifty’s <a href="http://www.fiftyfifty-galerie.de/">website</a>.</p><p>All told, the sale is expected to generate €1 million to €1.2 million for the Housing First Fund, which seeks to provide people experiencing homelessness with permanent housing. Richter’s donation will be augmented by €424,000 ($497,477) in state funding, North Rhine-Westphalia announced on Wednesday.</p><p><img src="https://news.artnet.com/app/news-upload/2018/05/G.-Richter-Cage-II-1024x1024.jpg" alt="" width="1024" height="1024" style="box-sizing: border-box;"></p><p>Gerhard Richter’s <em>Cage II</em>, one of the 18 works the artists is donating. Courtesy fiftyfifty.</p><p>After fiftyfifty launched Housing First in 2014, it began buying up real estate in Düsseldorf to rent to homeless people throughout the city, giving them their own leases and helping them with furnishings. The organization has previously offered editions by artists including Andreas Gursky&nbsp;and Jeff Koons.&nbsp;Richter also donated works to the initiative in 2015.</p><div><p>“Years ago, we explained the concept for housing the homeless to Richter,” says Julia von Lindern, the head of the Housing First project at fiftyfifty. “Right away, he was sure that it could work and the benefit of the sale of his works could and should be spent on the apartment project. That was the beginning. Now we are trying to transform that idea around the larger region.”</p><p>The latest round of fundraising will allow the Housing First Fund to extend the concept across the North Rhine-Westphalia for the first time. (Alongside fiftyfifty, the charity organization Parity NRW is a major supporter of the pilot project.)</p><p>Richter has been based in the region for decades, though he recently resettled in Cologne after living in Düsseldorf for many years. He studied at the art academy in Düsseldorf before becoming a professor at the school until 1993. There are an estimated 2,000 homeless people in the city, which is one of Germany’s priciest.</p><p>Last year, Richter was listed as one of Germany’s richest people; he has an estimated fortune of around €700 million ($821 million).</p><p>The 86-year-old artist has been in a particularly charitable mood in the past year. Last summer, Richter announced he would give his series “Birkenau” to the German Reichstag and donated a photographic version of his famous painting <em>Aunt Marianne</em>(1987) to a memorial in Saxony dedicated to the victims of forced euthanasia under the Nazi regime. Last September, he volunteered to donate a site-specific work&nbsp;to the city of Münster in Westphalia.</p><p>We reached out to Richter’s Düsseldorf gallery for comment on the latest gift, but did not receive a response by the time of publishing.</p><p>“It’s a win-win situation,” says von Lindern. “You can own a beautiful picture by Gerhard and you can also doing something really beneficial for the homeless.”</p><p>Courtesy Artnet news</p></div>]]></content:encoded>
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			<title><![CDATA[BODYS ISEK KINGELEZ: MOMA Exhibit-Soon To Be A Household Word!]]></title>
			<link>https://www.artroomsgallery.com/artroomsgallery-com-blog/bodys-isek-kingelez-moma-exhibitsoon-to-be-a-household-word/</link>
			<pubDate>Mon, 28 May 2018 16:08:19 +0000</pubDate>
			<guid isPermaLink="false">https://www.artroomsgallery.com/artroomsgallery-com-blog/bodys-isek-kingelez-moma-exhibitsoon-to-be-a-household-word/</guid>
			<description><![CDATA[<section>
<div><h1>Everyone in New York will be talking about this artist soon</h1></div>
</section><section><p>By Sebastian Spee&nbsp;May 23<img data-hi-res-src="https://img.washingtonpost.com/rf/image_1484w/2010-2019/WashingtonPost/2018/05/23/Style/Images/1989_starspalmebouygues.jpg?uuid=HW_OTF1DEeie40nW1IFMTA" data-low-res-src="https://img.washingtonpost.com/rf/image_480w/2010-2019/WashingtonPost/2018/05/23/Style/Images/1989_starspalmebouygues.jpg?uuid=HW_OTF1DEeie40nW1IFMTA" data-raw-src="https://img.washingtonpost.com/rw/2010-2019/WashingtonPost/2018/05/23/Style/Images/1989_starspalmebouygues.jpg?uuid=HW_OTF1DEeie40nW1IFMTA" src="https://img.washingtonpost.com/rf/image_1484w/2010-2019/WashingtonPost/2018/05/23/Style/Images/1989_starspalmebouygues.jpg?uuid=HW_OTF1DEeie40nW1IFMTA" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, Verdana, Tahoma, sans-serif; box-sizing: border-box; outline: 0px; font-size: 18.639999389648438px; vertical-align: baseline; width: 590.328125px;"></p><article>
<p>Bodys Isek Kingelez’s “Stars Palme Bouygues,” from 1989. (Van Lierde collection/Vincent Everarts Photography Brussels)</p><p>NEW YORK — A poignant utopian impulse informs the art of Bodys Isek Kingelez, the great African artist whom I suspect all of New York will be talking about this summer. Kingelez died in 2015 at 66. He made models of buildings, which he sometimes extended into elaborate cityscapes, both fantastical and familiar, with stadiums, train stations, hotels, banks and embassies — but never homes.</p><p>Both the models and the cityscapes take up a lot of real estate. But they’re basically works on paper. That explains why the Museum of Modern Art’s marvelous Kingelez exhibition — an overview of his work that opens Saturday — was assembled by Sarah Suzuki, a curator in the museum’s department of drawings and prints, with Hillary Reder, a curatorial assistant.</p><p>With strenuous precision and an almost dandyish finesse, Kingelez constructed his works out of cut colored paper, printed paper, wrapping paper and tissue, as well as paperboard, corrugated cardboard, aluminum foil, wood and plastic foam. He decorated them with colored pencil, ink, crayon, paint and marker. Among the other materials he used: tape, yarn, straws, beads, toothpicks, beer cans, bottle caps and slide mounts. Conservators, weep!</p><p><img alt="" data-hi-res-src="https://img.washingtonpost.com/rf/image_1024w/2010-2019/WashingtonPost/2018/05/23/Style/Images/2014_bikinkinshasa.jpg?uuid=HKfCRF1DEeie40nW1IFMTA" data-low-res-src="https://img.washingtonpost.com/rf/image_480w/2010-2019/WashingtonPost/2018/05/23/Style/Images/2014_bikinkinshasa.jpg?uuid=HKfCRF1DEeie40nW1IFMTA" data-raw-src="https://img.washingtonpost.com/rw/2010-2019/WashingtonPost/2018/05/23/Style/Images/2014_bikinkinshasa.jpg?uuid=HKfCRF1DEeie40nW1IFMTA" src="https://img.washingtonpost.com/rf/image_480w/2010-2019/WashingtonPost/2018/05/23/Style/Images/2014_bikinkinshasa.jpg?uuid=HKfCRF1DEeie40nW1IFMTA" style="box-sizing: border-box; outline: 0px; font-size: 18.639999389648438px; vertical-align: baseline;">Kingelez outside his home in Kinshasa in Congo in 2014. (Fredi Casco/Courtesy of André Magnin)</p><p>Visually, two things make Kingelez’s models so distinctive. The architectural forms, although inspired by familiar models, diverge — sometimes spectacularly — from anything one has seen before. Then there is the sheer beauty of their surfaces. Kingelez’s neat way with calligraphy and signage plays its part here, but it is his color palette — vibrant combinations of blue and pink, turquoise and apricot, pink and pale mint — that creates their entrancing, otherworldly effect.</p><p><wp>
</wp></p><p>After seeing the meticulous inventions Kingelez made from these humble materials, the temptation is to assume that he was some kind of outsider artist: self-taught, unhooked from the mainstream, out on a limb. But from which limb on which tree would one make such a judgment? If Kingelez were an outsider — outside what?</p><p>In fact, like so many stars of the art world in Europe and America, Kingelez <em>was </em>essentially self-taught. But he also was a university graduate who studied economics and industrial design, and spoke five languages.</p><p>Kingelez was born in 1948 in a village called Kimbembele-Ihunga in what is now Congo. He named his first cityscape after Kimbembele-Ihunga, although what he envisaged bears no relation to his actual birthplace. He was the eldest of nine children. His parents were farm laborers.</p><p>In 1970, when he was 22, Kingelez moved to the capital, Kinshasa. Ten years earlier, after a drawn-out struggle, Congo had achieved independence from Belgium. Under King Leopold II, the Belgians had systematically killed, terrorized and starved the Congolese population during a decades-long effort to enrich itself by extracting ivory, wild rubber and hardwoods from a territory 75 times larger than Belgium.</p><p><wp>
</wp></p><p>Independence quickly soured. Patrice Lumumba, the new republic’s first democratically elected prime minister, was arrested and killed by rivals led by the military chief Mobutu Sese Seko. Mobutu renamed first the capital, Kinshasa (from Leopoldville), then the nation, Zaire. The moniker he gave himself — Mobutu Sese Seko Kuku Ngbendu wa Za Banga — can be translated as “the all-powerful warrior who, because of his endurance and inflexible will to win, will go from conquest to conquest leaving fire in his wake.”</p><p>Kingelez began making his models in the early 1980s, when Mobutu’s dictatorial reign was beginning to unravel. He found work as a restorer in a museum. Kinshasa, the only city he had known for almost 20 years, was rapidly expanding. Outwardly, it was chaotic. But there was hidden order. And there was still hope.</p><p>Mobutu advocated a policy of adherence to what he called authenticité, or cultural authenticity. But he combined this with a program of modernization. The two values were not inconsistent — at least not in Mobutu’s mind — and he pursued an ostentatiously expensive building program, both in Kinshasa and his home town, Gbadolite.</p><p><img data-hi-res-src="https://img.washingtonpost.com/rf/image_1484w/2010-2019/WashingtonPost/2018/05/23/Style/Images/kinshasalabelle.jpg?uuid=LpJhJl1DEeie40nW1IFMTA" data-low-res-src="https://img.washingtonpost.com/rf/image_480w/2010-2019/WashingtonPost/2018/05/23/Style/Images/kinshasalabelle.jpg?uuid=LpJhJl1DEeie40nW1IFMTA" data-raw-src="https://img.washingtonpost.com/rw/2010-2019/WashingtonPost/2018/05/23/Style/Images/kinshasalabelle.jpg?uuid=LpJhJl1DEeie40nW1IFMTA" src="https://img.washingtonpost.com/rf/image_1484w/2010-2019/WashingtonPost/2018/05/23/Style/Images/kinshasalabelle.jpg?uuid=LpJhJl1DEeie40nW1IFMTA" style="box-sizing: border-box; outline: 0px; font-size: 18.639999389648438px; vertical-align: baseline; width: 590.328125px;"><br>Kingelez’s “Kinshasa la Belle,” from 1991, one of the models inspired by his home. (Bodys Isek Kingelez/Maurice Aeschimann/Courtesy of CAAC — The Pigozzi Collection)</p><p>Kingelez’s early work reflected all of this. He drew on the architectural examples around him: Art Deco buildings of the colonial era; Kinshasa’s eye-catching “Tour de l’Échangeur,” intended to be one of the tallest buildings in Africa but left unfinished; and the strange “shadow city” of Nsele, a luxury resort in the suburbs built under Mobutu to showcase Zaire to visiting dignitaries.</p><p><wp>
</wp></p><p>Kingelez was still barely known in Kinshasa. But in 1989, he was included in “Magiciens de la Terre,” a mold-breaking exhibition at the Centre Georges Pompidou and the Grande Halle de la Villette in Paris. Challenging biases built in to the Western art world, the show dared to put contemporary indigenous artists from Africa, the Americas, the Pacific and Asia on the same footing as big names from Europe and America.</p><p>One of the curators, André Magnin, had visited Kingelez in Kinshasa. Impressed, he commissioned new work and invited Kingelez to Paris to make it. In the end, Kingelez had six sculptures in the show, which catapulted him to art world fame.</p><p>He now traveled widely, and inevitably, his growing awareness of architecture and his wider perspective on politics influenced his sensibility, although the look of his work changed little. He made models inspired by the United Nations during the conflict in the former Yugoslavia; a hospital for AIDS patients at a peak of the African AIDS epidemic; and, after the 9/11 terrorist attacks, a fantastic cityscape called “New Manhattan (Manhattan City 3021.)” (The latter is not in the MoMA show.)</p><p><img alt="" data-hi-res-src="https://img.washingtonpost.com/rf/image_1024w/2010-2019/WashingtonPost/2018/05/23/Style/Images/1995_u.n..jpg?uuid=V2x8HF1DEeie40nW1IFMTA" data-low-res-src="https://img.washingtonpost.com/rf/image_480w/2010-2019/WashingtonPost/2018/05/23/Style/Images/1995_u.n..jpg?uuid=V2x8HF1DEeie40nW1IFMTA" data-raw-src="https://img.washingtonpost.com/rw/2010-2019/WashingtonPost/2018/05/23/Style/Images/1995_u.n..jpg?uuid=V2x8HF1DEeie40nW1IFMTA" src="https://img.washingtonpost.com/rf/image_480w/2010-2019/WashingtonPost/2018/05/23/Style/Images/1995_u.n..jpg?uuid=V2x8HF1DEeie40nW1IFMTA" style="box-sizing: border-box; outline: 0px; font-size: 18.639999389648438px; vertical-align: baseline;">Kingelez’s “U.N.,” from 1995. (Bodys Isek Kingelez/Maurice Aeschimann/Courtesy CAAC — The Pigozzi Collection)</p><p>Kingelez’s own name appears prominently in different forms on many of his models. Intensely jealous, he believed himself a misunderstood genius and, in his own words, an “enlightened artist of new horizons,” “a man of high moral fiber,” a “prophet of African art” and an inventor whose creations “you could go on admiring . . . endlessly.”</p><p><wp>
</wp></p><p>He was right — about the last part, anyway.</p><p>Most of the international shows in which Kingelez was included during these years were group exhibitions; it was rare to see more than one or two of his works. That’s why the MoMA show, which features more than 30 of his pieces — as well as a virtual-reality offering that takes us deep into his best-known cityscape, “Ville Fantôme” — is so special.</p><p>There is something almost excruciating about the way Kingelez’s models enfold playful utopian optimism in an aura of blank desolation. In the exhibition catalogue, the architect David Adjaye describes a Kingelez cityscape as “less a city than a representation of a hyper-condition that, if it were to become a reality, would drive us mad.” That feels about right.</p><p>Among American artists, one could make comparisons to Chris Burden’s “Metropolis II,” the fastidious, decorative, but unrelievedly lonely aesthetic of the illustrator Chris Ware, or to the pathos in the utopian visions of Russian emigres Ilya and Emilia Kabakov.</p><p>But perhaps the only relevant context is Kinshasa, the DRC and the exuberance and dashed hopes of Africa’s postcolonial era. Adjaye says he thinks Kingelez’s vision was “spurred by his lack of experience with the conditions he envisions.” </p><p>In other words, Kingelez imagined something better. It eluded him. It eluded everyone around him. That intensified his need to imagine it. Great art resulted.</p><p><strong>Bodys Isek Kingelez: City Dreams</strong> Saturday through Jan. 1, 2019, at the Museum of Modern Art, 11 W. 53rd St., New York.</p><p>Courtesy The Washington Post</p></article></section>]]></description>
			<content:encoded><![CDATA[<section>
<div><h1>Everyone in New York will be talking about this artist soon</h1></div>
</section><section><p>By Sebastian Spee&nbsp;May 23<img data-hi-res-src="https://img.washingtonpost.com/rf/image_1484w/2010-2019/WashingtonPost/2018/05/23/Style/Images/1989_starspalmebouygues.jpg?uuid=HW_OTF1DEeie40nW1IFMTA" data-low-res-src="https://img.washingtonpost.com/rf/image_480w/2010-2019/WashingtonPost/2018/05/23/Style/Images/1989_starspalmebouygues.jpg?uuid=HW_OTF1DEeie40nW1IFMTA" data-raw-src="https://img.washingtonpost.com/rw/2010-2019/WashingtonPost/2018/05/23/Style/Images/1989_starspalmebouygues.jpg?uuid=HW_OTF1DEeie40nW1IFMTA" src="https://img.washingtonpost.com/rf/image_1484w/2010-2019/WashingtonPost/2018/05/23/Style/Images/1989_starspalmebouygues.jpg?uuid=HW_OTF1DEeie40nW1IFMTA" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, Verdana, Tahoma, sans-serif; box-sizing: border-box; outline: 0px; font-size: 18.639999389648438px; vertical-align: baseline; width: 590.328125px;"></p><article>
<p>Bodys Isek Kingelez’s “Stars Palme Bouygues,” from 1989. (Van Lierde collection/Vincent Everarts Photography Brussels)</p><p>NEW YORK — A poignant utopian impulse informs the art of Bodys Isek Kingelez, the great African artist whom I suspect all of New York will be talking about this summer. Kingelez died in 2015 at 66. He made models of buildings, which he sometimes extended into elaborate cityscapes, both fantastical and familiar, with stadiums, train stations, hotels, banks and embassies — but never homes.</p><p>Both the models and the cityscapes take up a lot of real estate. But they’re basically works on paper. That explains why the Museum of Modern Art’s marvelous Kingelez exhibition — an overview of his work that opens Saturday — was assembled by Sarah Suzuki, a curator in the museum’s department of drawings and prints, with Hillary Reder, a curatorial assistant.</p><p>With strenuous precision and an almost dandyish finesse, Kingelez constructed his works out of cut colored paper, printed paper, wrapping paper and tissue, as well as paperboard, corrugated cardboard, aluminum foil, wood and plastic foam. He decorated them with colored pencil, ink, crayon, paint and marker. Among the other materials he used: tape, yarn, straws, beads, toothpicks, beer cans, bottle caps and slide mounts. Conservators, weep!</p><p><img alt="" data-hi-res-src="https://img.washingtonpost.com/rf/image_1024w/2010-2019/WashingtonPost/2018/05/23/Style/Images/2014_bikinkinshasa.jpg?uuid=HKfCRF1DEeie40nW1IFMTA" data-low-res-src="https://img.washingtonpost.com/rf/image_480w/2010-2019/WashingtonPost/2018/05/23/Style/Images/2014_bikinkinshasa.jpg?uuid=HKfCRF1DEeie40nW1IFMTA" data-raw-src="https://img.washingtonpost.com/rw/2010-2019/WashingtonPost/2018/05/23/Style/Images/2014_bikinkinshasa.jpg?uuid=HKfCRF1DEeie40nW1IFMTA" src="https://img.washingtonpost.com/rf/image_480w/2010-2019/WashingtonPost/2018/05/23/Style/Images/2014_bikinkinshasa.jpg?uuid=HKfCRF1DEeie40nW1IFMTA" style="box-sizing: border-box; outline: 0px; font-size: 18.639999389648438px; vertical-align: baseline;">Kingelez outside his home in Kinshasa in Congo in 2014. (Fredi Casco/Courtesy of André Magnin)</p><p>Visually, two things make Kingelez’s models so distinctive. The architectural forms, although inspired by familiar models, diverge — sometimes spectacularly — from anything one has seen before. Then there is the sheer beauty of their surfaces. Kingelez’s neat way with calligraphy and signage plays its part here, but it is his color palette — vibrant combinations of blue and pink, turquoise and apricot, pink and pale mint — that creates their entrancing, otherworldly effect.</p><p><wp>
</wp></p><p>After seeing the meticulous inventions Kingelez made from these humble materials, the temptation is to assume that he was some kind of outsider artist: self-taught, unhooked from the mainstream, out on a limb. But from which limb on which tree would one make such a judgment? If Kingelez were an outsider — outside what?</p><p>In fact, like so many stars of the art world in Europe and America, Kingelez <em>was </em>essentially self-taught. But he also was a university graduate who studied economics and industrial design, and spoke five languages.</p><p>Kingelez was born in 1948 in a village called Kimbembele-Ihunga in what is now Congo. He named his first cityscape after Kimbembele-Ihunga, although what he envisaged bears no relation to his actual birthplace. He was the eldest of nine children. His parents were farm laborers.</p><p>In 1970, when he was 22, Kingelez moved to the capital, Kinshasa. Ten years earlier, after a drawn-out struggle, Congo had achieved independence from Belgium. Under King Leopold II, the Belgians had systematically killed, terrorized and starved the Congolese population during a decades-long effort to enrich itself by extracting ivory, wild rubber and hardwoods from a territory 75 times larger than Belgium.</p><p><wp>
</wp></p><p>Independence quickly soured. Patrice Lumumba, the new republic’s first democratically elected prime minister, was arrested and killed by rivals led by the military chief Mobutu Sese Seko. Mobutu renamed first the capital, Kinshasa (from Leopoldville), then the nation, Zaire. The moniker he gave himself — Mobutu Sese Seko Kuku Ngbendu wa Za Banga — can be translated as “the all-powerful warrior who, because of his endurance and inflexible will to win, will go from conquest to conquest leaving fire in his wake.”</p><p>Kingelez began making his models in the early 1980s, when Mobutu’s dictatorial reign was beginning to unravel. He found work as a restorer in a museum. Kinshasa, the only city he had known for almost 20 years, was rapidly expanding. Outwardly, it was chaotic. But there was hidden order. And there was still hope.</p><p>Mobutu advocated a policy of adherence to what he called authenticité, or cultural authenticity. But he combined this with a program of modernization. The two values were not inconsistent — at least not in Mobutu’s mind — and he pursued an ostentatiously expensive building program, both in Kinshasa and his home town, Gbadolite.</p><p><img data-hi-res-src="https://img.washingtonpost.com/rf/image_1484w/2010-2019/WashingtonPost/2018/05/23/Style/Images/kinshasalabelle.jpg?uuid=LpJhJl1DEeie40nW1IFMTA" data-low-res-src="https://img.washingtonpost.com/rf/image_480w/2010-2019/WashingtonPost/2018/05/23/Style/Images/kinshasalabelle.jpg?uuid=LpJhJl1DEeie40nW1IFMTA" data-raw-src="https://img.washingtonpost.com/rw/2010-2019/WashingtonPost/2018/05/23/Style/Images/kinshasalabelle.jpg?uuid=LpJhJl1DEeie40nW1IFMTA" src="https://img.washingtonpost.com/rf/image_1484w/2010-2019/WashingtonPost/2018/05/23/Style/Images/kinshasalabelle.jpg?uuid=LpJhJl1DEeie40nW1IFMTA" style="box-sizing: border-box; outline: 0px; font-size: 18.639999389648438px; vertical-align: baseline; width: 590.328125px;"><br>Kingelez’s “Kinshasa la Belle,” from 1991, one of the models inspired by his home. (Bodys Isek Kingelez/Maurice Aeschimann/Courtesy of CAAC — The Pigozzi Collection)</p><p>Kingelez’s early work reflected all of this. He drew on the architectural examples around him: Art Deco buildings of the colonial era; Kinshasa’s eye-catching “Tour de l’Échangeur,” intended to be one of the tallest buildings in Africa but left unfinished; and the strange “shadow city” of Nsele, a luxury resort in the suburbs built under Mobutu to showcase Zaire to visiting dignitaries.</p><p><wp>
</wp></p><p>Kingelez was still barely known in Kinshasa. But in 1989, he was included in “Magiciens de la Terre,” a mold-breaking exhibition at the Centre Georges Pompidou and the Grande Halle de la Villette in Paris. Challenging biases built in to the Western art world, the show dared to put contemporary indigenous artists from Africa, the Americas, the Pacific and Asia on the same footing as big names from Europe and America.</p><p>One of the curators, André Magnin, had visited Kingelez in Kinshasa. Impressed, he commissioned new work and invited Kingelez to Paris to make it. In the end, Kingelez had six sculptures in the show, which catapulted him to art world fame.</p><p>He now traveled widely, and inevitably, his growing awareness of architecture and his wider perspective on politics influenced his sensibility, although the look of his work changed little. He made models inspired by the United Nations during the conflict in the former Yugoslavia; a hospital for AIDS patients at a peak of the African AIDS epidemic; and, after the 9/11 terrorist attacks, a fantastic cityscape called “New Manhattan (Manhattan City 3021.)” (The latter is not in the MoMA show.)</p><p><img alt="" data-hi-res-src="https://img.washingtonpost.com/rf/image_1024w/2010-2019/WashingtonPost/2018/05/23/Style/Images/1995_u.n..jpg?uuid=V2x8HF1DEeie40nW1IFMTA" data-low-res-src="https://img.washingtonpost.com/rf/image_480w/2010-2019/WashingtonPost/2018/05/23/Style/Images/1995_u.n..jpg?uuid=V2x8HF1DEeie40nW1IFMTA" data-raw-src="https://img.washingtonpost.com/rw/2010-2019/WashingtonPost/2018/05/23/Style/Images/1995_u.n..jpg?uuid=V2x8HF1DEeie40nW1IFMTA" src="https://img.washingtonpost.com/rf/image_480w/2010-2019/WashingtonPost/2018/05/23/Style/Images/1995_u.n..jpg?uuid=V2x8HF1DEeie40nW1IFMTA" style="box-sizing: border-box; outline: 0px; font-size: 18.639999389648438px; vertical-align: baseline;">Kingelez’s “U.N.,” from 1995. (Bodys Isek Kingelez/Maurice Aeschimann/Courtesy CAAC — The Pigozzi Collection)</p><p>Kingelez’s own name appears prominently in different forms on many of his models. Intensely jealous, he believed himself a misunderstood genius and, in his own words, an “enlightened artist of new horizons,” “a man of high moral fiber,” a “prophet of African art” and an inventor whose creations “you could go on admiring . . . endlessly.”</p><p><wp>
</wp></p><p>He was right — about the last part, anyway.</p><p>Most of the international shows in which Kingelez was included during these years were group exhibitions; it was rare to see more than one or two of his works. That’s why the MoMA show, which features more than 30 of his pieces — as well as a virtual-reality offering that takes us deep into his best-known cityscape, “Ville Fantôme” — is so special.</p><p>There is something almost excruciating about the way Kingelez’s models enfold playful utopian optimism in an aura of blank desolation. In the exhibition catalogue, the architect David Adjaye describes a Kingelez cityscape as “less a city than a representation of a hyper-condition that, if it were to become a reality, would drive us mad.” That feels about right.</p><p>Among American artists, one could make comparisons to Chris Burden’s “Metropolis II,” the fastidious, decorative, but unrelievedly lonely aesthetic of the illustrator Chris Ware, or to the pathos in the utopian visions of Russian emigres Ilya and Emilia Kabakov.</p><p>But perhaps the only relevant context is Kinshasa, the DRC and the exuberance and dashed hopes of Africa’s postcolonial era. Adjaye says he thinks Kingelez’s vision was “spurred by his lack of experience with the conditions he envisions.” </p><p>In other words, Kingelez imagined something better. It eluded him. It eluded everyone around him. That intensified his need to imagine it. Great art resulted.</p><p><strong>Bodys Isek Kingelez: City Dreams</strong> Saturday through Jan. 1, 2019, at the Museum of Modern Art, 11 W. 53rd St., New York.</p><p>Courtesy The Washington Post</p></article></section>]]></content:encoded>
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			<title><![CDATA[ArtRoomsGallery.com: Judge Throws Out Agnes Martin Authentification Lawsuit]]></title>
			<link>https://www.artroomsgallery.com/artroomsgallery-com-blog/artroomsgallerycom-judge-throws-out-agnes-martin-authentification-lawsuit/</link>
			<pubDate>Wed, 23 May 2018 14:41:53 +0000</pubDate>
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			<description><![CDATA[<h1>Judge Throws Out Closely Watched Lawsuit Against the Agnes Martin Authentication Committee</h1><p>The case was intently followed by dealers and art historians alike.</p><p>Eileen Kinsella</p><figure><img src="https://news.artnet.com/app/news-upload/2016/10/Agnes-with-Level-Ladder-header-1024x589.jpg" alt="Alexander Liberman, Agnes Martin with Level and Ladder (1960). Photogrpahy Archive, Getty Research Institute. Photo: © J. Paul Getty Trust." title="Alexander Liberman, Agnes Martin with Level and Ladder (1960). Photogrpahy Archive, Getty Research Institute. Photo: © J. Paul Getty Trust." style="box-sizing: border-box;">
<figcaption>Alexander Liberman, <em>Agnes Martin with Level and Ladder</em> (1960). Photogrpahy Archive, Getty Research Institute. Photo: © J. Paul Getty Trust. </figcaption></figure>
<p>That exhalation you just heard is the sound of art authentication boards and catalogue raisonné authors across the country breathing a sigh of relief.</p><p>In what is being heralded as a victory for scholars, a New York State Supreme Court judge has dismissed London dealer James Mayor’s claims against Pace Gallery&nbsp;president Arne Glimcher and the Agnes Martin&nbsp;catalogue raisonné committee for excluding 13 works from the artist’s catalogue raisonné, a decision he says cost him $7.2 million. In an unusual step, the judge also awarded the gallery and committee members the full cost of their legal fees, an amount in the hundreds of thousands of dollars for which Mayor Gallery is now liable.</p><p>Mel Leventhal, the attorney for Mayor Gallery, told artnet News via email: “We of course respectfully disagree with this opinion and judgment which prevents a full hearing on the issues and claims. There are a number of options available to The Mayor Gallery&nbsp;and we are still confident that ultimately our claims will receive a full hearing and be upheld.”</p><p>The case has been monitored with keen interest by those in the art trade. In recent years, artist foundations have become increasingly wary of offering opinions regarding a work’s authenticity for fear of being sued. Although such cases are almost always decided in favor of the scholar or foundation, the cost of defending them has led many foundations—including those of Andy Warhol, Jean-Michel Basquiat, and Keith Haring-to disband their authentication committees entirely.</p><p>When Mayor Gallery filed its lawsuit in 2016, many saw it as a sign that catalogues raisonnés—a scholarly publication that compiles all the known works by an artist—would become the next battleground for collectors unhappy with current authentication practices and experts’ opinions on the authenticity of their works.</p><p>“Authentication committees generally are very, very gun shy,” attorney Aaron Richard Golub, who represented Glimcher and the committee members, told artnet News. “This is a big movement on the road to validating authentication committees and what they do. They should be left alone to decide these things.”</p><p>The recent case hinged on 13 works that passed through Mayor Gallery between 2009 and 2015. They range in price from $2.9 million for a work titled <em>Day and Night</em> (1964), sold to the collector Jack Levy in 2010, to a work on paper bought by collector Sybil Shainwald in 2012 for $180,000. All 13 works were rejected by the Agnes Martin Catalogue Raisonné LLC authentication committee. Without inclusion in the catalogue, no reputable auction house or gallery would likely sell the works.</p><p><img src="https://news.artnet.com/app/news-upload/2018/04/AAHN001344.jpeg" alt="" width="555" height="709" srcset="https://news.artnet.com/app/news-upload/2018/04/AAHN001344.jpeg 755w, https://news.artnet.com/app/news-upload/2018/04/AAHN001344-235x300.jpeg 235w, https://news.artnet.com/app/news-upload/2018/04/AAHN001344-39x50.jpeg 39w" sizes="(max-width: 555px) 100vw, 555px" style="box-sizing: border-box;"></p><p>Agnes Martin. Photo: © Chris Felver.</p><p>According to Mayor Gallery, the committee provided no explanation for its decisions, and he was left holding the bag. James Mayor refunded, or offered to refund, the four clients who bought the rejected works for a total of $7.2 million. (One collector, Pierre de Labouchere, said he would wait for the case to be resolved before seeking a refund.)</p><p>Although the committee in charge of Agnes Martin’s catalogue raisonné required petitioners to sign a contract pledging not to take legal action if they didn’t agree with a decision, Mayor Gallery took the novel tack of suing over “product disparagement.” The gallery argued that the works it sold had been unfairly devalued due to their exclusion.</p><p>Mayor sued Glimcher, the managing member of the committee, the director of the Agnes Martin Foundation, and the owner of Pace Gallery, which represents the Martin estate. The London gallery also sued the committee’s six anonymous committee members individually as well as Tiffany Bell, the catalogue’s editor.</p><p>In the lawsuit, Mayor claimed that Martin’s catalogue raisonné—which exists online and is updated on an ongoing basis—was potentially compromised because it was led by Glimcher, who also has a financial stake in Martin’s market. The gallery also cited “longstanding frictions and disagreements” between James Mayor and Glimcher that may have motivated the decisions.</p><p>In her ruling, Judge Andrea Masley said that Mayor did not manage to prove that the committee’s decision was the result of “malice.” Furthermore, she added, the committee was not required to provide an explanation for why it rejected the works. The committee “is not required to turn over any information other than its decision to accept or decline to include the submitted work by letter, and does not have to grant any person an opportunity to rebut its decision,” she wrote.</p><p>Attorney and art law expert Tom Danziger told artnet News: “It’s very unusual in a litigation of this kind for a defendant to be awarded legal fees.”</p><p>Golub hopes the ruling will set a new precedent and shield credentialed experts from having to defend themselves against bad-faith lawsuits in the future. Notably, several lawyers have been campaigning for years—but with little success—to revise New York’s state law so that successful defendants in art authentication-related lawsuits would always be awarded legal fees.</p><p>“This is an important victory for authenticators, artist foundations, and catalogue raisonné authors,” Dean Nicyper, an attorney with Withers Bergman and one of several who support the bill, told artnet News. Although he is hopeful that the New York state legislature will pass the bill this year, he said that “regardless, this court’s decision should embolden authenticators to continue doing good work.”</p><p>Courtesy ArtNews</p>]]></description>
			<content:encoded><![CDATA[<h1>Judge Throws Out Closely Watched Lawsuit Against the Agnes Martin Authentication Committee</h1><p>The case was intently followed by dealers and art historians alike.</p><p>Eileen Kinsella</p><figure><img src="https://news.artnet.com/app/news-upload/2016/10/Agnes-with-Level-Ladder-header-1024x589.jpg" alt="Alexander Liberman, Agnes Martin with Level and Ladder (1960). Photogrpahy Archive, Getty Research Institute. Photo: © J. Paul Getty Trust." title="Alexander Liberman, Agnes Martin with Level and Ladder (1960). Photogrpahy Archive, Getty Research Institute. Photo: © J. Paul Getty Trust." style="box-sizing: border-box;">
<figcaption>Alexander Liberman, <em>Agnes Martin with Level and Ladder</em> (1960). Photogrpahy Archive, Getty Research Institute. Photo: © J. Paul Getty Trust. </figcaption></figure>
<p>That exhalation you just heard is the sound of art authentication boards and catalogue raisonné authors across the country breathing a sigh of relief.</p><p>In what is being heralded as a victory for scholars, a New York State Supreme Court judge has dismissed London dealer James Mayor’s claims against Pace Gallery&nbsp;president Arne Glimcher and the Agnes Martin&nbsp;catalogue raisonné committee for excluding 13 works from the artist’s catalogue raisonné, a decision he says cost him $7.2 million. In an unusual step, the judge also awarded the gallery and committee members the full cost of their legal fees, an amount in the hundreds of thousands of dollars for which Mayor Gallery is now liable.</p><p>Mel Leventhal, the attorney for Mayor Gallery, told artnet News via email: “We of course respectfully disagree with this opinion and judgment which prevents a full hearing on the issues and claims. There are a number of options available to The Mayor Gallery&nbsp;and we are still confident that ultimately our claims will receive a full hearing and be upheld.”</p><p>The case has been monitored with keen interest by those in the art trade. In recent years, artist foundations have become increasingly wary of offering opinions regarding a work’s authenticity for fear of being sued. Although such cases are almost always decided in favor of the scholar or foundation, the cost of defending them has led many foundations—including those of Andy Warhol, Jean-Michel Basquiat, and Keith Haring-to disband their authentication committees entirely.</p><p>When Mayor Gallery filed its lawsuit in 2016, many saw it as a sign that catalogues raisonnés—a scholarly publication that compiles all the known works by an artist—would become the next battleground for collectors unhappy with current authentication practices and experts’ opinions on the authenticity of their works.</p><p>“Authentication committees generally are very, very gun shy,” attorney Aaron Richard Golub, who represented Glimcher and the committee members, told artnet News. “This is a big movement on the road to validating authentication committees and what they do. They should be left alone to decide these things.”</p><p>The recent case hinged on 13 works that passed through Mayor Gallery between 2009 and 2015. They range in price from $2.9 million for a work titled <em>Day and Night</em> (1964), sold to the collector Jack Levy in 2010, to a work on paper bought by collector Sybil Shainwald in 2012 for $180,000. All 13 works were rejected by the Agnes Martin Catalogue Raisonné LLC authentication committee. Without inclusion in the catalogue, no reputable auction house or gallery would likely sell the works.</p><p><img src="https://news.artnet.com/app/news-upload/2018/04/AAHN001344.jpeg" alt="" width="555" height="709" srcset="https://news.artnet.com/app/news-upload/2018/04/AAHN001344.jpeg 755w, https://news.artnet.com/app/news-upload/2018/04/AAHN001344-235x300.jpeg 235w, https://news.artnet.com/app/news-upload/2018/04/AAHN001344-39x50.jpeg 39w" sizes="(max-width: 555px) 100vw, 555px" style="box-sizing: border-box;"></p><p>Agnes Martin. Photo: © Chris Felver.</p><p>According to Mayor Gallery, the committee provided no explanation for its decisions, and he was left holding the bag. James Mayor refunded, or offered to refund, the four clients who bought the rejected works for a total of $7.2 million. (One collector, Pierre de Labouchere, said he would wait for the case to be resolved before seeking a refund.)</p><p>Although the committee in charge of Agnes Martin’s catalogue raisonné required petitioners to sign a contract pledging not to take legal action if they didn’t agree with a decision, Mayor Gallery took the novel tack of suing over “product disparagement.” The gallery argued that the works it sold had been unfairly devalued due to their exclusion.</p><p>Mayor sued Glimcher, the managing member of the committee, the director of the Agnes Martin Foundation, and the owner of Pace Gallery, which represents the Martin estate. The London gallery also sued the committee’s six anonymous committee members individually as well as Tiffany Bell, the catalogue’s editor.</p><p>In the lawsuit, Mayor claimed that Martin’s catalogue raisonné—which exists online and is updated on an ongoing basis—was potentially compromised because it was led by Glimcher, who also has a financial stake in Martin’s market. The gallery also cited “longstanding frictions and disagreements” between James Mayor and Glimcher that may have motivated the decisions.</p><p>In her ruling, Judge Andrea Masley said that Mayor did not manage to prove that the committee’s decision was the result of “malice.” Furthermore, she added, the committee was not required to provide an explanation for why it rejected the works. The committee “is not required to turn over any information other than its decision to accept or decline to include the submitted work by letter, and does not have to grant any person an opportunity to rebut its decision,” she wrote.</p><p>Attorney and art law expert Tom Danziger told artnet News: “It’s very unusual in a litigation of this kind for a defendant to be awarded legal fees.”</p><p>Golub hopes the ruling will set a new precedent and shield credentialed experts from having to defend themselves against bad-faith lawsuits in the future. Notably, several lawyers have been campaigning for years—but with little success—to revise New York’s state law so that successful defendants in art authentication-related lawsuits would always be awarded legal fees.</p><p>“This is an important victory for authenticators, artist foundations, and catalogue raisonné authors,” Dean Nicyper, an attorney with Withers Bergman and one of several who support the bill, told artnet News. Although he is hopeful that the New York state legislature will pass the bill this year, he said that “regardless, this court’s decision should embolden authenticators to continue doing good work.”</p><p>Courtesy ArtNews</p>]]></content:encoded>
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			<title><![CDATA[ArtRoomsGallery.com: "The Resurrection of Christ " Andrea Mantegna (1431-1506) Found!]]></title>
			<link>https://www.artroomsgallery.com/artroomsgallery-com-blog/artroomsgallerycom-the-resurrection-of-christ-andrea-mantegna-14311506-found/</link>
			<pubDate>Tue, 22 May 2018 14:24:48 +0000</pubDate>
			<guid isPermaLink="false">https://www.artroomsgallery.com/artroomsgallery-com-blog/artroomsgallerycom-the-resurrection-of-christ-andrea-mantegna-14311506-found/</guid>
			<description><![CDATA[<p>By John Hooper</p><time>May 21, 2018 9:33 a.m. ET</time><p><em>Rome</em></p><p>A painting that spent more than a century in the storerooms of a provincial Italian museum will be attributed Wednesday to one of the greatest artists of the Renaissance. The attribution to Andrea Mantegna (1431-1506) has the backing of Keith Christiansen of the Metropolitan Museum of Art in New York, the world’s leading expert on the artist. It means the painting, a wooden panel depicting Jesus’s resurrection, may be worth about a thousand times more than was previously thought: between $25 million and $30 million.</p><p>“It’s a wonderful surprise,” said Dr. Christiansen, John Pope-Hennessy Chairman of the Department of European Paintings at the Met. “An absolutely top-quality work by one of the defining artists of the early Renaissance.”</p><p>The painting, titled “The Resurrection of Christ” belongs to the Accademia Carrara in Bergamo, a city about 30 miles north of Milan. In March, its curator, Giovanni Valagussa, was preparing a catalogue of works dating from before 1500 when he was struck by the excellence of a dark painting on a panel about 19 inches high and 15 inches wide. The work long ago had been removed from the museum’s permanent exhibition. Dismissed in the 1930s by prominent art historian Bernard Berenson as a contemporary copy of a lost Mantegna, it had been insured for €20,000-€30,000 (roughly $24,000-$35,000), Dr. Valagussa said.</p><div><div><div><div><div><div><div><img src="https://si.wsj.net/public/resources/images/B3-AN026_MANTEG_750RV_20180521171725.jpg" data-reactid=".0.1.0.0.$0=111992562475450774.0" style="margin-bottom: 3px; outline: 0px; font-size: 10px; font-style: normal; vertical-align: baseline; display: block; box-sizing: border-box; font-family: Retina, 'Whitney SSm', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; width: 540px;"><p><img src="https://si.wsj.net/public/resources/images/B3-AN027_MANTEG_750RV_20180521171734.jpg" data-reactid=".0.1.0.0.$0=14934797404409882.0" style="margin-bottom: 3px; outline: 0px; font-size: 10px; font-style: normal; vertical-align: baseline; display: block; box-sizing: border-box; font-family: Retina, 'Whitney SSm', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; width: 540px;"></p><div>The painting newly attributed to Mantegna—'The Resurrection of Christ,' top —appears to have been separated from another painting by the artist, 'Descent Into Limbo,' bottom. The two paintings match up to show one large scene. <div>PHOTOS: ACCADEMIA CARRARA BERGAMO; SOTHEBY’S</div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div><div>MORE ON ARTA horizontal wooden strut on the back of the painting aroused his curiosity. Such lengths of wood often were attached to panel paintings, to help hold them together and prevent them from warping.“But usually they are found near the upper and lower edges,” said Dr. Valagussa. “This one was in the middle.”A detail of Andrea Mantegna’s painting, ‘The Resurrection of Christ,’ shows the cross at the bottom of the picture that proved a vital clue to curator Giovanni Valagussa.</div><div>It struck him that the wooden bar might, in fact, have been near the top or bottom of a larger work of which the painting he was studying was originally a part. Painters and their works weren’t always given the respect they enjoy today, and it was common for early collectors to chop up panels, often to fit the spaces in which they were hung.As Dr. Valagussa examined the painting further, he noticed what was to become a vital clue: a small cross painted in gold near the bottom of the picture that was apparently disconnected from everything else. It was, however, identical to another cross at the top of the painting. This second cross was fixed to the end of a slim pole held by Jesus as he stepped from his tomb to the astonishment of a group of Roman soldiers.One possible explanation for the stray cross is that the panel had been cut to separate the cross at the bottom from a pole that continued into the rest of the hypothetical painting below.</div><div>Dr. Valagussa set about looking for other works by Mantegna dealing with events following Jesus’s death on the cross.Meanwhile, he asked staff at the Accademia Carrara to carry out an infrared survey of the panel to see what was underneath the surface. They discovered that the artist had scrupulously painted fully dressed soldiers over drawings of nudes in the same positions.“This was something Mantegna always did,” said Dr. Valagussa. But it was also a device used by other artists of his time. What clinched the attribution was his research. Christian belief in the resurrection is associated with the idea of Limbo: a place for those who are stained with original sin, and thus cannot go to heaven, but who are otherwise deserving and shouldn’t be consigned to hell. Limbo, some medieval theologians reasoned, must have been where Jesus went in the three days between his death and resurrection to free the virtuous souls who had perished before him but not had the opportunity to be redeemed by his sacrifice.Mantegna painted the scene several times.&nbsp;</div><div>Dr. Valagussa discovered one such depiction, firmly attributed to the artist, which also showed Jesus holding a flagstaff. If it were lined up beneath the cross at the foot of the panel in Bergamo, the stonework in the two paintings formed a continuous arch. The other work, titled “Descent Into Limbo” and completed in 1492-93, had come up for sale at Sotheby’s in New York in 2003—and fetched $28,568,000.</div><div>Dr. Valagussa immediately wrote to Dr. Christiansen, whom he knew by reputation. The Mantegna painting at the Accademia Carrara in Bergamo is ‘an absolutely top-quality work,’ according to the Metropolitan Museum of Art’s Keith Christiansen, seen in Florence, Italy, in 2015. PHOTO: GETTY IMAGES“I did my own photo-montage and everything matched up,” said Dr. Christiansen, who said he saw no reason why the panel in Bergamo should not be worth the same as the one sold 15 years ago. For it to be a copy, it would have to have been part of a larger copy that was cut in exactly the same place as the original—a possibility so implausible he discounted it.The rediscovered Mantegna work was bought on the assumption that it was an original. Documents show that Count Guglielmo Lochis, a leading benefactor of the Accademia, acquired it in 1846 and catalogued it as authentic. A few years later, Sir Charles Eastlake, the first director of the National Gallery in London, saw the panel and had no doubts: “Mantegna … Resurrection – genuine – a small part added on left side,” he noted.His assessment was challenged by later experts. Giovanni Morelli, the 19th-century critic and father of the Morellian method for identifying the authorship of paintings through seemingly trivial details, was the first to cast doubt on the work’s authenticity.</div><div>&nbsp;In 1912, it was attributed to Mantegna’s son, Andrea. Mr. Berenson, who was revered by contemporaries as the world’s greatest Renaissance expert, ruled a few decades later that “The Resurrection of Christ” was not even from Mantegna’s workshop, but a copy. His judgment remained unchallenged until well after his death in 1959. Long before then, “The Resurrection of Christ” had been withdrawn from the permanent exhibition in Bergamo, likely due to doubt about its authenticity. It is missing from a list drawn up in 1912. Dr. Valagussa said work has begun on restoring the panel, which had been inexpertly conserved in the past. Already, he said, “Magnificent colors are coming out.” The painting’s attribution is to be announced Wednesday at the presentation of the curator’s catalogue of early works in the collection.The museum is hoping to reunite the two parts of Mantegna’s painting for an exhibition next year. Dr. Valagussa said that, through Sothebys, it had made contact with the private buyer of “Descent Into Limbo.” But the collector was “not someone who likes to be disturbed,” said Dr. Valagussa, so the other half of Mantegna’s work might not be made available.</div><div>Despite new scientific techniques and technology, art authentication remains a subjective, often contentious, practice. No universally recognized global clearinghouse examines every disputed painting and decrees whether it is a Mantegna, for example, or a Michelangelo—or neither.“It’s really artist by artist and period by period,” says Michael E. Salzman, general counsel of the law firm Hughes Hubbard &amp; Reed in New York, who has worked on authentication matters.A working artist—and perhaps his or her gallery—usually can say whether a work is genuine. The issue gets more complicated when the artist is no longer alive. In at least some European countries, the artist’s family inherits the right to declare his or her works genuine or not. The Picasso family, for example, is empowered to authenticate the Spanish artist’s works. In the U.S., that legal right extends only to the artist—and usually ends with his or her death, with a host of variables depending on when a work of art was created. The estates and foundations of some deceased American artists authenticate their works, even though the practice can expose organizations to litigation. In the past decade, a number of U.S. artists’ foundations and estates, including those of Keith Haring, Andy Warhol and Jean-Michel Basquiat, ceased authenticating works for others. Some experts’ reputations suffered after Knoedler &amp; Co., a pillar of the American art scene for more than 150 years, announced in 2011 that it was closing. Between 1994 and 2008, the New York gallery had sold more than 30 paintings that it subsequently learned were fakes. The works, which had been vouched for by experts, were counterfeits of Jackson Pollock, Mark Rothko and others.</div><div>Academics, curators and other art-world sleuths enlist a range of tools in attribution, says Andrew Butterfield, a scholar and dealer who has authenticated works by Donatello, Bernini and others. These include technical and scientific analyses, such as examining the pigments in paints or the metal hardware and original carpentry on a panel painting. There also is visual analysis, which has become more powerful and precise thanks to developments in photography over the past 20 years. “You can take macro photographs and compare things that are on an extremely fine level, point by point,” Mr. Butterfield says, “as well as taking a more overall view of one painting in relation to another.” Collaboration often plays a role. “It’s very rare that it’s just one person making an attribution by themselves, a lone individual,” Mr. Butterfield says. That can happen but more often it’s “the result of an exchange of ideas and thoughts among colleagues.” Connoisseurship—the expert’s trained eye and aesthetic—also informs judgments. Provenance, or history of ownership, can be useful and isn’t restricted to recent works, says Mr. Salzman, citing a case where records from 17th-century Italy helped to cement an attribution call. Some attributions are done swiftly but many are gradual, deliberative affairs, involving back-and-forth of opinions among experts. “Even if you have an idea: ‘Oh, this is by—name your favorite artist,’ ” Mr. Butterfield says, “You would be an idiot to not then test that as thoroughly as possible, ….look for the weaknesses in the argument and try to disprove the idea.</div><div>”Brenda Cronin Appeared in the May 22, 2018, print edition as 'The $30 Million Discovery ART The Art of Attribution.'<br></div><div>WSJ</div>]]></description>
			<content:encoded><![CDATA[<p>By John Hooper</p><time>May 21, 2018 9:33 a.m. ET</time><p><em>Rome</em></p><p>A painting that spent more than a century in the storerooms of a provincial Italian museum will be attributed Wednesday to one of the greatest artists of the Renaissance. The attribution to Andrea Mantegna (1431-1506) has the backing of Keith Christiansen of the Metropolitan Museum of Art in New York, the world’s leading expert on the artist. It means the painting, a wooden panel depicting Jesus’s resurrection, may be worth about a thousand times more than was previously thought: between $25 million and $30 million.</p><p>“It’s a wonderful surprise,” said Dr. Christiansen, John Pope-Hennessy Chairman of the Department of European Paintings at the Met. “An absolutely top-quality work by one of the defining artists of the early Renaissance.”</p><p>The painting, titled “The Resurrection of Christ” belongs to the Accademia Carrara in Bergamo, a city about 30 miles north of Milan. In March, its curator, Giovanni Valagussa, was preparing a catalogue of works dating from before 1500 when he was struck by the excellence of a dark painting on a panel about 19 inches high and 15 inches wide. The work long ago had been removed from the museum’s permanent exhibition. Dismissed in the 1930s by prominent art historian Bernard Berenson as a contemporary copy of a lost Mantegna, it had been insured for €20,000-€30,000 (roughly $24,000-$35,000), Dr. Valagussa said.</p><div><div><div><div><div><div><div><img src="https://si.wsj.net/public/resources/images/B3-AN026_MANTEG_750RV_20180521171725.jpg" data-reactid=".0.1.0.0.$0=111992562475450774.0" style="margin-bottom: 3px; outline: 0px; font-size: 10px; font-style: normal; vertical-align: baseline; display: block; box-sizing: border-box; font-family: Retina, 'Whitney SSm', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; width: 540px;"><p><img src="https://si.wsj.net/public/resources/images/B3-AN027_MANTEG_750RV_20180521171734.jpg" data-reactid=".0.1.0.0.$0=14934797404409882.0" style="margin-bottom: 3px; outline: 0px; font-size: 10px; font-style: normal; vertical-align: baseline; display: block; box-sizing: border-box; font-family: Retina, 'Whitney SSm', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; width: 540px;"></p><div>The painting newly attributed to Mantegna—'The Resurrection of Christ,' top —appears to have been separated from another painting by the artist, 'Descent Into Limbo,' bottom. The two paintings match up to show one large scene. <div>PHOTOS: ACCADEMIA CARRARA BERGAMO; SOTHEBY’S</div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div><div>MORE ON ARTA horizontal wooden strut on the back of the painting aroused his curiosity. Such lengths of wood often were attached to panel paintings, to help hold them together and prevent them from warping.“But usually they are found near the upper and lower edges,” said Dr. Valagussa. “This one was in the middle.”A detail of Andrea Mantegna’s painting, ‘The Resurrection of Christ,’ shows the cross at the bottom of the picture that proved a vital clue to curator Giovanni Valagussa.</div><div>It struck him that the wooden bar might, in fact, have been near the top or bottom of a larger work of which the painting he was studying was originally a part. Painters and their works weren’t always given the respect they enjoy today, and it was common for early collectors to chop up panels, often to fit the spaces in which they were hung.As Dr. Valagussa examined the painting further, he noticed what was to become a vital clue: a small cross painted in gold near the bottom of the picture that was apparently disconnected from everything else. It was, however, identical to another cross at the top of the painting. This second cross was fixed to the end of a slim pole held by Jesus as he stepped from his tomb to the astonishment of a group of Roman soldiers.One possible explanation for the stray cross is that the panel had been cut to separate the cross at the bottom from a pole that continued into the rest of the hypothetical painting below.</div><div>Dr. Valagussa set about looking for other works by Mantegna dealing with events following Jesus’s death on the cross.Meanwhile, he asked staff at the Accademia Carrara to carry out an infrared survey of the panel to see what was underneath the surface. They discovered that the artist had scrupulously painted fully dressed soldiers over drawings of nudes in the same positions.“This was something Mantegna always did,” said Dr. Valagussa. But it was also a device used by other artists of his time. What clinched the attribution was his research. Christian belief in the resurrection is associated with the idea of Limbo: a place for those who are stained with original sin, and thus cannot go to heaven, but who are otherwise deserving and shouldn’t be consigned to hell. Limbo, some medieval theologians reasoned, must have been where Jesus went in the three days between his death and resurrection to free the virtuous souls who had perished before him but not had the opportunity to be redeemed by his sacrifice.Mantegna painted the scene several times.&nbsp;</div><div>Dr. Valagussa discovered one such depiction, firmly attributed to the artist, which also showed Jesus holding a flagstaff. If it were lined up beneath the cross at the foot of the panel in Bergamo, the stonework in the two paintings formed a continuous arch. The other work, titled “Descent Into Limbo” and completed in 1492-93, had come up for sale at Sotheby’s in New York in 2003—and fetched $28,568,000.</div><div>Dr. Valagussa immediately wrote to Dr. Christiansen, whom he knew by reputation. The Mantegna painting at the Accademia Carrara in Bergamo is ‘an absolutely top-quality work,’ according to the Metropolitan Museum of Art’s Keith Christiansen, seen in Florence, Italy, in 2015. PHOTO: GETTY IMAGES“I did my own photo-montage and everything matched up,” said Dr. Christiansen, who said he saw no reason why the panel in Bergamo should not be worth the same as the one sold 15 years ago. For it to be a copy, it would have to have been part of a larger copy that was cut in exactly the same place as the original—a possibility so implausible he discounted it.The rediscovered Mantegna work was bought on the assumption that it was an original. Documents show that Count Guglielmo Lochis, a leading benefactor of the Accademia, acquired it in 1846 and catalogued it as authentic. A few years later, Sir Charles Eastlake, the first director of the National Gallery in London, saw the panel and had no doubts: “Mantegna … Resurrection – genuine – a small part added on left side,” he noted.His assessment was challenged by later experts. Giovanni Morelli, the 19th-century critic and father of the Morellian method for identifying the authorship of paintings through seemingly trivial details, was the first to cast doubt on the work’s authenticity.</div><div>&nbsp;In 1912, it was attributed to Mantegna’s son, Andrea. Mr. Berenson, who was revered by contemporaries as the world’s greatest Renaissance expert, ruled a few decades later that “The Resurrection of Christ” was not even from Mantegna’s workshop, but a copy. His judgment remained unchallenged until well after his death in 1959. Long before then, “The Resurrection of Christ” had been withdrawn from the permanent exhibition in Bergamo, likely due to doubt about its authenticity. It is missing from a list drawn up in 1912. Dr. Valagussa said work has begun on restoring the panel, which had been inexpertly conserved in the past. Already, he said, “Magnificent colors are coming out.” The painting’s attribution is to be announced Wednesday at the presentation of the curator’s catalogue of early works in the collection.The museum is hoping to reunite the two parts of Mantegna’s painting for an exhibition next year. Dr. Valagussa said that, through Sothebys, it had made contact with the private buyer of “Descent Into Limbo.” But the collector was “not someone who likes to be disturbed,” said Dr. Valagussa, so the other half of Mantegna’s work might not be made available.</div><div>Despite new scientific techniques and technology, art authentication remains a subjective, often contentious, practice. No universally recognized global clearinghouse examines every disputed painting and decrees whether it is a Mantegna, for example, or a Michelangelo—or neither.“It’s really artist by artist and period by period,” says Michael E. Salzman, general counsel of the law firm Hughes Hubbard &amp; Reed in New York, who has worked on authentication matters.A working artist—and perhaps his or her gallery—usually can say whether a work is genuine. The issue gets more complicated when the artist is no longer alive. In at least some European countries, the artist’s family inherits the right to declare his or her works genuine or not. The Picasso family, for example, is empowered to authenticate the Spanish artist’s works. In the U.S., that legal right extends only to the artist—and usually ends with his or her death, with a host of variables depending on when a work of art was created. The estates and foundations of some deceased American artists authenticate their works, even though the practice can expose organizations to litigation. In the past decade, a number of U.S. artists’ foundations and estates, including those of Keith Haring, Andy Warhol and Jean-Michel Basquiat, ceased authenticating works for others. Some experts’ reputations suffered after Knoedler &amp; Co., a pillar of the American art scene for more than 150 years, announced in 2011 that it was closing. Between 1994 and 2008, the New York gallery had sold more than 30 paintings that it subsequently learned were fakes. The works, which had been vouched for by experts, were counterfeits of Jackson Pollock, Mark Rothko and others.</div><div>Academics, curators and other art-world sleuths enlist a range of tools in attribution, says Andrew Butterfield, a scholar and dealer who has authenticated works by Donatello, Bernini and others. These include technical and scientific analyses, such as examining the pigments in paints or the metal hardware and original carpentry on a panel painting. There also is visual analysis, which has become more powerful and precise thanks to developments in photography over the past 20 years. “You can take macro photographs and compare things that are on an extremely fine level, point by point,” Mr. Butterfield says, “as well as taking a more overall view of one painting in relation to another.” Collaboration often plays a role. “It’s very rare that it’s just one person making an attribution by themselves, a lone individual,” Mr. Butterfield says. That can happen but more often it’s “the result of an exchange of ideas and thoughts among colleagues.” Connoisseurship—the expert’s trained eye and aesthetic—also informs judgments. Provenance, or history of ownership, can be useful and isn’t restricted to recent works, says Mr. Salzman, citing a case where records from 17th-century Italy helped to cement an attribution call. Some attributions are done swiftly but many are gradual, deliberative affairs, involving back-and-forth of opinions among experts. “Even if you have an idea: ‘Oh, this is by—name your favorite artist,’ ” Mr. Butterfield says, “You would be an idiot to not then test that as thoroughly as possible, ….look for the weaknesses in the argument and try to disprove the idea.</div><div>”Brenda Cronin Appeared in the May 22, 2018, print edition as 'The $30 Million Discovery ART The Art of Attribution.'<br></div><div>WSJ</div>]]></content:encoded>
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