Much like the old wars of religion that shaped Europe, the new wars are fought on the ground of the image.
Resolved to reconcile the simultaneous horror and beauty of home, William Christenberry began the annual pilgrimages back south.
The image moved me: Robert E. Lee, that icon of the Confederacy, whose likeness in bronze once towered several stories over New Orleans, was, after 132 years, gone, relegated (for now) to municipal storage.
Life at prestissimo requires moments of adagio, even of larghissimo.
Why do dreams, aside from those that prove uncannily prophetic, not befit our biography?
The death and life of the great American hipster offers an alternative history of culture over the last quarter century.
Food is a strong proof of our animality; it is equally strong evidence of how we transcend it.
We bad-movie watchers have our own anticriteria, the sorts of badness we prefer.
At their core, cryptids represent the triumph of the particular over the generic.
We have automated the society of clues to act on its own divinations, with consequences far beyond the individual.
Though careful observation comes first, my process involves research: detecting palimpsests in the architecture or observing how people move and inhabit the place.
A monkey's selfie has done more than just raise awareness about an endangered species.
That Edvard Munch never met Friedrich Nietzsche is one of the great missed encounters of the modern age.
Pantone's Marsala is no mauve, but it does reflect our present cultural mood.
To reduce a museum experience to the laws of supply and demand devalues not only the art itself but also the curators’ years of education and expertise—connoisseurship on which we rely in institutions that position themselves as cultural arbiters.
When El Greco heard the insultingly low valuation for his work, he launched a long and bitter court battle that quietly changed the perception of artists and art in Spain.
Taylor Swift’s recent trademarking frenzy is another example of how artists are scrambling to maintain control over their work in the face of the digital tsunami.
Cubism’s stylistic hegemony—the dislocated binaries, the tactile surfaces in a two-dimensional work, and the distortions—interferes with what we want to understand about what few clues we can decipher.
If technology rarely delivers on its claims, then need we waste so much as a backward glance as we dash ahead to the next digital milestone?
New Orleans, where spectacle and transgression are part of the infrastructure, is the ideal place to conduct completely unscientific research on tattooing.
Using photos from old magazines makes for a vulnerable working surface, since the paper usually is old, yellowed, and somewhat brittle. I like it that this quality emphasizes the human and personal vulnerability that exists as a subject in my work.
“The world just flipped itself over with hardly any recognition of the tentacles it would sprout”—from an interview with artist Rosamond Casey, whose work appears in our spring issue.
The solitude of sickness is not a waste of time but rather a compression of it, a bundle the size of a pill bottle.