Painted in Sedona, Arizona in 1947, Witnesses originates in a pivotal moment of Dorothy Tanning’s career, when she turned inward, translating the psychological imperatives of Surrealism into interior worlds shaped by ambiguity and concealment. The painting presents a crowded, deliberately compressed interior populated by uncanny, quasi-human figures whose anatomy resist stable definition.
To counter the dehumanizing isolation of incarceration, artist Jesse Krimes (b, 1982) works collaboratively with incarcerated individuals to create artworks from old clothing and textiles that evoke memories of home. Krimes developed his own practice while serving a six-year sentence. In Blackwater(2021), Krimes regards the tentacled animal as “a panoptic state of surveillance” and alludes to the eugenic and white supremacist ideas in America zoology. The title, Blackwater, refers to a prison in Florida.
There’s something quietly hilarious — and a little haunting — about Waiting Pink Small (2024) by Erwin Wurm, At first glance, it’s just a soft, bubblegum-pink suit, neatly assembled and politely standing at attention. But look again: there’s no body inside. No face, no hands—just posture doing all the talking.
There are certain artists whose visual language is so instantly recognizable that you can spot their work from across the room —or, in this case, across a gallery floor attached to a Land Rover.
I recently stopped by Keith Haring in 3-D at Free Parking, a pop-up exhibition in the West Village dedicated to a lesser-discussed but wildly fun part of Keith Haring’s career: the objects he transformed beyond the canvas. While Haring is most famous for his subway drawings, radiant babies, barking dogs, and dancing figures that helped define downtown New York in the 1980s, this show focused on his three-dimensional works — including two of his rare painted art cars. Continue reading Keith Haring in 3-D: When the Canvas Has Four Wheels→
There’s something quietly unsettling about Winter Twilight (1930) by Charles E. Burchfield — a winter scene that feels less like a peaceful evening and more like a moment suspended in uneasy silence. The painting depicts a snow-covered road at dusk, but instead of warmth or nostalgia, the scene leans into isolation and quiet tension. What strikes me immediately is how cinematic and moody it feels — almost like a haunted version of a Edward Hopper streetscape.
The street appears largely deserted, blanketed in mostly undisturbed snow. A storefront glows brightly, where two bundled pedestrians appear to be window shopping — one of the only signs of life in an otherwise still environment. Nearby, another lone figure stands facing the street, back turned to the pair, adding to the sense of emotional distance and disconnection. Continue reading Modern Art Monday Presents: Charles Burchfield, Winter Twilight→