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marisagertz:

Yellow barRome, Italy
Guestbook at an unnamed gallery in Cheslea.
Willie Colón and Héctor Lavoe. 
"The artist does not have to will a response to the “deepening political crisis in America”. Sooner or later the artist is implicated or devoured by politics without even trying. My “position” is one of sinking into an awareness of global squalor and futility. The rat of politics always gnaws at the cheese of art. The trap is set. If there is an original curse, then politics has something to do with it. Direct political action becomes a matter of trying to pick poison out of boiling stew.”
- Robert Smithson, 1970
gacougnol:

Niki de Saint Phalle in front of finished “Shooting Painting” 1961
wholesalemoney:

Tina Turner 1966
blakegopnik:

THE DAILY PIC: I spotted this recent wall-piece by Richard Nonas, called “Crude Thinking”, in his solo show at Fergus McCaffrey gallery in New York. Funny thing is, I saw it with an art-critic friend who finds  this kind of pared-down abstraction too cerebral to have any life, beyond what a critic can give it by dressing it up in fancy words. Whereas my problem with this work – if you can call it a problem – is that it seems too obviously, easily loveable. For me, this is just what art is obviously supposed to look like to give pleasure.
Do you think the difference has anything to do with the fact that my friend came to art a bit later, in the postmodern 1980s and 90s, whereas I happened to be surrounded by late abstraction as a child? We lived a short bike ride from Montreal’s original Museum of Contemporary Art, and Nonas’s work is just what I would see on any given weekend in the early 1970s when my siblings and I would cycle over.
My new theory: Critics, and all aesthetes, imprint, duckling-like, on the first art they come to see; the rest of an aesthetic life is spent either seeking that same familiar pleasure, or trying to find new, less obvious joys that will push you beyond the one that lives deep in your heart. Either way, the childhood conditioning is inescapable.
That’s why I  worry about all the Thomas Kinkades in American homes… (Courtesy Fergus McCaffrey)

Critics, and all aesthetes, imprint, duckling-like, on the first art they come to see; the rest of an aesthetic life is spent either seeking that same familiar pleasure, or trying to find new, less obvious joys that will push you beyond the one that lives deep in your heart. Either way, the childhood conditioning is inescapable.
That’s why I  worry about all the Thomas Kinkades in American homes…