this week in art

IN CONVERSATION: THE PHOTOGRAPHY OF EDVARD MUNCH

Who: Patricia G. Berman, MaryClaire Pappas, Edward Gallagher
What: Live virtual discussion and exhibition tour
Where: Scandinavia House YouTube
When: Saturday, April 2, free, 1:00 (exhibition continues at 58 Park Ave. at 38th St. through June 4)
Why: Norwegian painter and sculptor Edvard Munch “seems to have been one of the first artists in history to take ‘selfies,’” notes the introductory wall text to the Scandinavia House exhibition “The Experimental Self: Edvard Munch’s Photography.” As the free show — which has been brought back, with some wonderful design changes that provide deeper perspective, for an encore run extended through June 4 — reveals, that statement does not just refer to Munch’s penchant for self-portraiture, as demonstrated in the 2018 Met exhibit “Edvard Munch: Between the Clock and the Bed,” which included a detailed look at Munch’s depiction of himself over the years. “Munch painted self-portraits throughout his career, but with increased intensity and frequency after 1900,” Gary Garrels, Jon-Ove Steihaug, and Sheena Wagstaff write in the introduction to the Met catalog. “These ‘self-scrutinies,’ as he called them, provide insight into his perceptions of his role as an artist, as a man in society, and as a protagonist in his relationships with others, especially women. . . . Using himself as subject but always allowing technique to influence effect, Munch was able to powerfully investigate the interplay between depicting external reality and meditating on painterly means.”

Edvard Munch, “Self-Portrait at the Breakfast Table at Dr. Jacobson’s Clinic,” gelatin silver contact print, 1908-09 (courtesy of Munch Museum)

At Scandinavia House, this is evident in his fascination with photography, which he took up during two periods of his life that were fraught with physical and health issues. Munch snapped photographs between 1902 and 1910, after his lover, Tulla Larsen, shot him in the left finger, and again from 1927 to the mid-1930s, suffering a hemorrhage in his right eye in 1930. He also took home movies with a camera in 1927. As in his paintings and particularly his prints, Munch experimented with photographic images, playing with exposure length, camera angles, movement, and shadows for his Fatal Destiny portfolio and individual works. He is purposely blurry in “Self-Portrait in Profile Indoors in Åsgårdstrand,” “Self-Portrait at the Breakfast Table at Dr. Jacobson’s Clinic,” and “Self-Portrait ‘à la Marat,’ Beside a Bathtub at Dr. Jacobson’s Clinic.” He is completely naked, holding a sword in 1903’s “Edvard Munch Posing Nude in Åsgårdstrand,” a kind of companion piece to 1907’s “Self-Portrait on Beach with Brushes and Palette in Warnemünde,” in which he holds a paintbrush. The woman in “Nurse in Black, Jacobson’s Clinic,” from 1908-09, has a lot in common with Munch’s 1891 oil painting, “Lady in Black.” There are multiple, ghostly images of both subjects in 1907’s “Edvard Munch and Rosa Meissner in Warnemünde,” evoking the phantasmic bodies in several prints on view, including “Moonlight II.”

On April 2, American-Scandinavian Foundation president Edward Gallagher will moderate a special live, online presentation with curator Patricia G. Berman giving an up-close look at several photographs in the show, ASF Research Fellow MaryClaire Pappas talking about Munch’s self-portraiture, and a panel discussion on Munch’s relevance to twenty-first-century photography. You can check out the exhibit from home using the new virtual tour here.

Edvard Munch, “Self-Portrait on Beach with Brushes and Palette in Warnemünde,” Collodion contact print, 1907 (courtesy of Munch Museum)

In the Met catalog, in her essay “The Untimely Face of Munch,” Allison Morehead explains, “‘He is not attached to any school or any direction,’ wrote the Norwegian critic and art historian Jappe Nilssen in 1916, ‘because he himself is one of those who advances and creates his own school and forges his own direction.’ Surely with Munch’s complicity, Nilssen described his friend as both stereotypical avant-garde outsider and chronological anomaly, as an art history unto himself, his own school, his own doctrine, and his own teleology. Perhaps then it is little wonder that Munch made so many self-portraits from the beginning to the end of his career, regularly depicting himself in paintings, prints, drawings, and photographs, and also little wonder that art historians have found them so preoccupying.’”

The Scandinavia House show, which has added a case of vintage camera equipment and a short video by Berman and is divided into such sections as “Landscape of Healing,” “Munch’s Selfies,” and “The Amateur Photographer,” concludes with a short compilation of home movies Munch shot with a Pathé-Baby camera, in which the artist once again focuses on himself as his subject. “I have an old camera with which I have taken countless pictures of myself, often with amazing results,” he said in 1930. “Some day when I am old, and I have nothing better to do than write my autobiography, all my self-portraits will see the light of day again.” It’s fascinating to consider just what Munch, who died in 1944 at the age of eighty, would have thought of contemporary social media and the selfie, offering new opportunities to shine a light on himself.

TOMÁS SARACENO: PARTICULAR MATTER(S) / SILENT AUTUMN

Spiders and their webs are at the center of Tomás Saraceno’s immersive, multimedia exhibitions at the Shed and Tanya Bonakdar Gallery (photo by twi-ny/mdr)

TOMÁS SARACENO: PARTICULAR MATTER(S)
The Shed
545 West 30th St. at Eleventh Ave.
Tuesday – Sunday through April 17
Upper level + gallery: $42; lower level + gallery: $35; gallery exhibition only: $12
646-455-3494
theshed.org
studiotomassaraceno.org

The integration of art, technology, nature, and the environment is central to Argentina-born artist Tomás Saraceno’s discipline, currently on display in a pair of complex immersive exhibitions in the city. In “Silent Autumn” at Tanya Bonakdar in Chelsea and “Particular Matter(s)” at the Shed in Hudson Yards, Saraceno investigates toxic air and water, the reuse of plastic bags, rampant consumerism, and, most of all, spiders though collaborations with MIT and NASA, among others, attempting to find ways to fix a broken planet in this out-of-control Capitalocene era.

In a 2014 lecture he gave at MIT, Saraceno discussed the “sociability” of spiders. “It’s very similar to humans,” he said. “Spiders are social because they have enough space and food. But if you put a lot of social spiders in a very tiny space, they are not social. They eat each other. They’re pretty much like humans. There are forty-three thousand species of spider and only twenty are social. Knowing that sociability is a big trend for the survival of the planet, no one really understands this. What we do is try to make [the spiders] operate and work, one with the other, the solitary and the social.” It sounds all too close as humanity emerges from a global pandemic.

Continuing through April 17, “Particular Matter(s)” leads visitors on an audiovisual journey through the kingdom of the spiders. Webs of At-tent(s)ion consists of seven encased hybrid spider webs, hanging in midair and lit so it appears that they’re glowing in the dark. Each case is like its own universe, with different species of spider building on what others started, resulting in magical architectural structures made of spider silk and carbon fibers.

Radio Galena turns a crystal into a wireless radio receptor. Printed Matter(s) reproduces cosmic dust from 1982 in a series of ten photos printed using black carbon PM2.5 pollution extracted from the air in Mumbai; they are arranged loosely on a wall, as if they might blow away and break up into shreds, like the atmosphere being destroyed by pollution. Particular Matter(s) is a light beam that reveals how much dust is in the air that we breathe, poisoned by the burning of fossil fuels.

Arachnomancy features a deck of thirty-three tarot-like meteorological “oracle” cards, printed on carbon-footprint-neutral paper, spread out across a table, based on the beliefs of the spider diviners of Somié, Cameroon, who make cards out of leaves, forecasting weather events. The cards include images of maps, plants, human figures, and webs, with such titles as “Bad News,” “Planetary Drift,” “Invertebrate Rights,” “Entanglement,” and “Fortunate Webbing.” Dangling above the table is a web built by two Cyrtophora citricola spiders that looks like you could rip it apart with a soft breath.

Inspired by the writings of science journalist Harriet A. Washington, We Do Not All Breathe the Same Air uses black carbon, soot, and PM2.5 and PM10 to reveal how pollution impacts air quality in different parts of the country, adversely affecting BIPOC and poorer areas. A red sliding sheet laser brings spider webs to life in a long horizontal window in How to entangle the universe in a spider/web,? which resembles a trip through the human circulatory system or into a far-off galaxy. The concept of spider ballooning and visitors’ movement combine to create music in Sounding the Air, an installation in which five threads of spider silk form an aeolian instrument that emits sonic frequencies when it encounters heat, wind, body movement, and other elements.

A Thermodynamic Imaginary is a room filled with many wonders of Saraceno’s oeuvre, a fantasy world comprising sculpture, projected video (Tata Inti and Living at the bottom of the ocean of air), shadows, reflections, large bubbles, and more, like its own galaxy in what the artist calls the Aerocene: “a stateless state, both tethered and free floating; a community, an open source initiative; a name for change, and an era to live and breathe in.”

On the fourth floor, you have to remove your shoes to walk into Museo Aero Solar, devised by Saraceno and Alberto Pesavento in 2007, an ecological balloon composed of plastic bags sewn together, their brands and trademarks visible, seeking to eventually eliminate the use of fossil fuels by providing sustainable, free-floating options. The gallery also includes documentation of the project and such items as an Aerocene Backpack and flight starter kits.

The centerpiece of “Particular Matter(s)” is Free the Air: How to hear the universe in a spider/web, a live eight-minute concert held in an almost blindingly white two-level, ninety-five-foot diameter floating sculpture, commissioned by the Shed for this exhibition. The limited audience gets misted as they enter the foggy space, which contains 450,000 cubic feet of air and features a large-scale net made of steel and thick wire that evokes a giant spider web on which people lie down; it’s a rather tenuous trampoline with gaps in it, so if you jump, it will affect not only your balance but others’ as well, so don’t play around too much. If you’re on the lower level, you can look up to see the people above you, almost walking on air.

Darkness ensues and the concert in four movements begins, prerecorded sound waves and vibrations of spiders interacting with their webs that are impacted by the audience’s presence, incorporating Sounding the Air, Webs of At-tent(s)ion, and other items in “Particular Matter(s).” It’s a welcoming atmosphere of interspecies communion and coexistence that plots a course for ways to save our increasingly fragile planet using our innate spider-sense and expanding our idea of what home is.

Advance tickets are necessary for the special experience and sell out quickly, so act fast. As part of the Shed program “Matter(s) for Conversation and Action,” on March 30 at 6:00 there will be a free Zoom panel discussion, “Invention, Experimentation, and Radical Imagination,” with MIT professor Caroline A. Jones, climate scientist Dr. Kate Marvel, and Vassar professor Molly Nesbit, moderated by designer, teacher, and entrepreneur Sandra Goldmark, followed on April 13 at noon by “Rights of Nature, Activism, and Change” with lawyer Alicia Chalabe, Dartmouth professor N. Bruce Duthu, and sociologist and writer Maristella Svampa, moderated by Columbia Law School professor Michael B. Gerrard.

Tomás Saraceno gallery show at Tanya Bonakdar complements Shed exhibition (photo courtesy Tanya Bonakdar Gallery)

TOMÁS SARACENO: SILENT AUTUMN
Tanya Bonakdar Gallery
521 West 21st St. between Tenth & Eleventh Aves.
Tuesday – Saturday through March 26, free, 10:00 am – 6:00 pm
www.tanyabonakdargallery.com

In conjunction with the Shed show, Tanya Bonakdar is presenting “Silent Autumn” through March 26. The title plays off Rachel Carson’s seminal 1962 book, Silent Spring, a “fable for tomorrow” that called for the elimination of such chemicals as DDT in order to maintain a living, breathing Earth. The exhibit begins with An Open Letter for Invertebrate Rights, in which Spider/Webs explain, “Do not be afraid. Let us move from arachnophobia to arachnophilia by sensing new threads of connectivity, or else face the eternal silence of extinction.”

Visitors must put booties over their shoes in order to enter Algo-r(h)i(y)thms, a musical instrument comprising a vast network of webs, the strings of which make warming sounds when plucked. You can either create your own solo or work in tandem with others for a more ornate score. Surrounding the instrument are Arachne’s handwoven Spider/Web Map of Andrómeda, with a duet of Nephila inaurata — four weeks and ensemble of Cyrtophora citricola — three weeks and Cosmic Filaments, intricate black-and-white architectural drawings of web universes.

The title diptychs (and one triptych) pair framed leaves glued to inkjet paper next to framed photographs of the leaves; the two works initially look identical, but over time the real leaves will fade and disintegrate while the picture endures. Silent Spring comprises four panels of pressed poppy flowers from contaminated soil near Saraceno’s Berlin-Rummelsburg studio, with shutters that protect them from the sun, although they too will fade; the dirt was polluted by a photographic film and dye manufacturer, so the piece is very much part of Saraceno’s personalized mission of recycling and sustainability.

In the same room, three stainless-steel and wood sculptures hang from the ceiling at different heights, evoking the much larger structures Saraceno installed on the Met roof for “Cloud City” in 2012 as well as the Silent Autumn framed leaves. In a smaller room, the blown glass pieces Pneuma, Aeolus, Aeroscale, and Aerosolar Serpens probe breathing, physical presence, and the brittleness of existence. Other works continue Saraceno’s exploration of overconsumption, pollution, climate change, and the future of life on the planet — and throughout the universe.

Saraceno is a genius at bringing us into his world by creating fascinating objects that are ravishing to look at, then hitting us with the heavily researched science behind it all as he attempts to save the world. But he can only do it with our help.

MARINA ABRAMOVIĆ IN CONVERSATION: PERFORMATIVE (POSTPONED)

Marina Abramović, The Artist Is Present, MoMA performance, 2010 (photo by Marco Anelli / courtesy of the Marina Abramović Archives)

Who: Marina Abramović, Glenn Lowry, Marco Anelli
What: Livestreamed discussions in conjunction with new gallery show, “Performative”
Where: Sean Kelly Gallery YouTube, MoMA online
When: Tuesday, March 15, free with RSVP, 6:15 [now postponed]; Thursday, March 24, free with RSVP, 7:30
Why: In 2010, MoMA staged the widely hailed immersive exhibition “Marina Abramović: The Artist Is Present,” a chronological career survey highlighted by the re-creation of many of the Belgrade-born artist’s performance pieces, centered by the title work, in which she and a visitor sat across from one another, staring into each other’ eyes for as long as possible as the audience watched. In conjunction with the new Sean Kelly exhibit “Marina Abramović: Performative,” which explores four key turning points in Abramović’s oeuvre, the gallery is presenting a pair of live discussions between and Abramović and special guests, sitting down together but most likely not having a staring contest.

On March 15 at 6:15, Abramović will be at Sean Kelly with Glenn Lowry, the longtime MoMA director who oversaw the 2010 show; the livestream will be available on YouTube. [ed note: This event has been postponed because of the knife attack at MoMA over the weekend.] On March 24 at 7:30, Abramović will be at MoMA for a virtual conversation with Italian photographer Marco Anelli. “Performative,” consisting of photographs, video, objects, and ephemera, is on view at Sean Kelly Gallery at 475 Tenth Ave. through April 16, featuring looks at Abramović’s Rhythm 10, The Artist Is Present, the participatory Transitory Objects, and Seven Deaths.

A DAYLONG CELEBRATION—BEFORE YESTERDAY WE COULD FLY: AN AFROFUTURIST PERIOD ROOM

Before Yesterday We Could Fly is the Met’s latest period room (photo © the Metropolitan Museum of Art)

A DAYLONG CELEBRATION
Metropolitan Museum of Art
1000 Fifth Ave. at 82nd St.
Sunday, March 13, free with museum admission, 11:00 am – 4:00 pm
212-535-7710
www.metmuseum.org

In November, the Metropolitan Museum of Art opened a new period room, the spectacular Afrofuturist Before Yesterday We Could Fly, an homage to the nineteenth-century Seneca Village, a thriving African American community, including Black landowners, that was taken away by the city in order to build Central Park. Named after Virginia Hamilton’s 1985 children’s book, The People Could Fly: American Black Folktales, the installation features more than six dozen objects, including bowls, vases, cups, plates, chairs, jars, boxes, paintings, sculpture, and more by such artists as Robert Lugo, Zizipho Poswa, Atang Tshikare, Elizabeth Catlett, William Henry Johnson, Magdalene Odundo, and Njideka Akunyili Crosby. The room is instilled with a spiritual energy that is intoxicating, melding past and present with the future.

“I think for a lot of us, when we were kids, our ability to envision a future that was different than some of the things that we didn’t like that we were seeing around us was to escape into a fantasy and envision a future that’s more akin to a superhero comic book than it is to actual reality — and I think that comes through in my work and a lot of the people that express visions in an Afrofuture,” Swiss industrial designer and artist Ini Archibong says in a Met video; Archibong contributed two Atlas Chairs, an Orion Table, and the Vernus 3 chandelier to the room.

“The Black imagination and manifestation of freedom is really what I was aiming at. And my feeling that roots, magic is really at the center of our strength and identity, and is something that has always helped direct us into the future and given us strength in the present,” Haitian-born, Brooklyn-based conceptual artist Fabiola Jean-Louis says in another Met video; her ornately designed Justice of Ezili corset dress, a tribute to Vodou loa (spirit) Ezili Dantor, is a highlight of the room.

Also be on the lookout for Henry Taylor’s Andrea Motley Crabtree, the first, a portrait of the first woman and Black woman army deep-sea diver; Willie Cole’s Shine, a mask made of high-heeled leather shoes equating soles and souls; Tourmaline’s photographic self-portraits Summer Azure and Morning Cloak; Njideka Akunyili Crosby’s Thriving and Potential, Displaced (Again and Again and…), wallpaper that merges a Seneca Village map with images from the African diaspora; Andile Dyalvane’s Umwonyo, a pot that collapsed when he danced in his studio; Roberto Lugo’s Digable Underground, a porcelain sculpture with images of Harriet Tubman and Erykah Badu, in a place of honor on a glass plinth within an open brick tower; and Jenn Nkiru’s Out/Side of Time, a mysterious photo made specifically for the period room.

On March 13, the Met will host an all-day celebration of the installation, running from 11:00 am to 4:00 pm, consisting of art workshops in which participants can make tech-y accessories and social justice pottery; gallery chats with curators and researchers Sarah Lawrence, Ian Alteveer, and Ana Matisse Donefer-Hickie; the panel discussion “In the Parlor” with Rena Anakwe, Dyalvane, Jean-Louis, and Tourmaline; storytelling; and more. All events are free with museum admission; some require advance registration.

SACRED SCREENS AND SCROLLS: DECODING BUDDHIST SYMBOLS IN SHIKŌ MUNAKATA’S PRINTS

D. Max Moerman will lead a virtual walkthrough of Japan Society exhibition on March 8

Who: D. Max Moerman, Ramona Handel-Bajema, PhD
What: Virtual discussion and walkthrough of “Shikō Munakata: A Way of Seeing,” on view at Japan Society through March 20
Where: Japan Society YouTube
When: Tuesday, March 8, free with RSVP (suggested donation $5-$20), 6:00
Why: On March 8 at 6:00, Barnard College professor and Columbia University Seminar in Buddhist Studies cochair D. Max Moerman will give the online lecture “Sacred Screens and Scrolls: Decoding Buddhist Symbols in Shikō Munakata’s Prints,” a deep dive into the current Japan Society exhibition “Shikō Munakata: A Way of Seeing.” Joined in conversation by Japan Society chief program officer Ramona Handel-Bajema, PhD, Moerman will walk through the show, which features nearly one hundred works by Munakata (1903-75), comprising woodblock prints, calligraphy, sumi ink paintings, watercolors, lithography, and ceramics.

“How does the artist breathe life into his work? By summoning the spirit of the art that lives inside him. . . . Power comes from the artist’s spirit, warmth from his tenderness, and serenity from his prayers,” Munakata explained in Hanga no Hanashi in 1954. Five years later, he came to New York City as a fellow in Japan Society’s Print Artists Program; several of the pieces he created for the institution are also part of the show. Moerman will focus on religious aspects of Munakata’s work, including the six-panel screen Eulogy to Shōkei and the twelve-set hanging scrolls The Ten Great Disciples of Buddha. The exhibit, which will have extended days and hours because of its popularity, also is highlighted by the newly rediscovered Tōkaidō Series from 1964, arranged at Japan Society to evoke the coastal road between Kyoto and Tokyo.

RASHAAD NEWSOME: ASSEMBLY

Rashaad Newsome’s Assembly is an immersive multimedia exploration of the intersection of humanity and technology (photo by Stephanie Berger Photography / Park Avenue Armory)

ASSEMBLY
Park Ave. Armory, Wade Thompson Drill Hall
643 Park Ave. at Sixty-Seventh St.
Tuesday – Sunday through March 6, $18 exhibition, $40 performances
www.armoryonpark.org
rashaadnewsome.com

The Muthaship has landed — and taken root inside Park Ave. Armory’s 55,000-square-foot Wade Thompson Drill Hall. New Orleans–born interdisciplinary artist Rashaad Newsome’s immersive multimedia installation Assembly is an open call to end colonialism, white supremacy, systemic racism, homophobia, and other societal ills based in bigotry and inequality, through music, movement, art, and storytelling grounded in Black queer culture. A kind of group healing focusing on opportunity, Assembly is hosted by Being the Digital Griot, an artificial intelligence project Newsome developed at Stanford’s Institute for Human-Centered AI (HAI).

When you enter the hall, you are met by Wrapped, Tied & Tangled, a thirty-foot-tall scrim on which a series of performers in bright red, yellow, and blue costumes appear to be dancing and drawing in space while a robotic voice makes affirmations. “Dig into your mind. Welcome to your insides,” Being offers in a gentle, caring tone. “I am here to listen and provide you with a new beginning for your journey. . . . There is only breath, heartbeat, rhythm, and peace. . . . No matter what, you are enough. . . . You are the most beautiful you. You are the master of your own self. You are radiant. You are divine. Always. Ever. Only. Enough. This is your solution. An infinite everything.” The dancers morph into one another — and then into Being, as if we all are one and the same, a spiritual melding of humanity and technology.

Large screens surround the scrim on three sides; to your right, the dancer in yellow moves proudly, with an army of tiny dancers arranged on their head like cornrows, while to the left, the dancer in blue moves in the universe, where miniature dancers align like stars. The screens in front feature computer-generated diasporic imagery of flowers, fractals, twerking, and abstract shapes seemingly coming to life. And behind you, above the entrance, site-specific projections interact with the wall and windows, from more dancers and flashing lights to a facade evoking a plantation house collapsing and figures emerging in silhouette. The textile-like flower imagery is repeated as wallpaper and across the floors.

Tuesday through Sunday at 1:00, 3:00, and 5:00 (free with general admission), workshops are held on the other side of the far screens, in a 350-seat classroom that also serves as a live performance venue Tuesday through Saturday evenings at 9:00 ($40). In the workshop, the onscreen Being leads the class through a series of movements the AI relates to oppression, suppression, the power of consumption, the culture of domination, the ownership of narrative, and freedom by exploring voguing and its highly stylized modes of catwalking, duckwalking, spin dipping, and ballroom.

Being hosts an interactive workshop as part of Assembly (photo by Stephanie Berger Photography / Park Avenue Armory)

Speaking about how spin dips conclude with falling to the floor, Being explains, “I see that collapse as the transgressive moment when we let go of the binary of imperfect and perfect and engage in the incredible pedagogy of resistance by thinking critically about our process, acknowledging that we don’t have the visionary skills at that moment to make the most liberatory decision and then stop, reflect, and try again.” Workshop participants are invited to come down from their seats and join in the movement. “Floor performance leads into the embodied pedagogy aspects of vogue femme, centering the erotic and rejecting the patriarchal legacy of the mind-body split,” Being says. After Being’s presentation, audience members can share their thoughts and ask questions of the AI, who supplies analytical answers generated by key words and algorithms through which Being continues to learn.

The AI also celebrates their father, Newsome, and declares that author, activist, and feminist bell hooks, who passed away on December 15 at the age of sixty-nine, is their spiritual mother, while strongly suggesting that we read Paulo Freire’s 1968 book Pedagogy of the Oppressed to better understand what we are all facing as a society. The text of the presentation was inspired by the writings of hooks, Audre Lord, Alok Vaid-Menon, and Assembly performer Dazié Rustin Grego-Sykes. Among the other performers are rappers Ms. Boogie, TRANNILISH, and Bella Bags, a ten-piece band, opera singer Brittany Logan, and a six-member gospel choir. The choreography is by Wrapped dancers Kameron N. Saunders, Ousmane Omari Wiles, and Maleek Washington, with music by Kryon El and booboo, lighting by John Torres, scenography by New Affiliates (Ivi Diamantopoulou and Jaffer Kolb), and sound by Robert Aiki Aubrey Lowe and Mark Grey.

Ansista has a leg up in front of Twirl, Isolation, and Formation of Attention (photo by twi-ny/mdr)

Around the back of the classroom is a semicircle of other works by Newsome, who is based in Brooklyn and Oakland. At either end are Ansista and Thee Variant, lifesize iterations of Being, one wearing red heels and a West African print dress, the other styled like a dominatrix with spiky black leather pants, stilettos, and a helmet mask, with warped facial parts that are also evident in nine framed collages featuring such titles as Isolation, Formation of Attention, It Do Take Nerve, O.G. (Oppositional Force), and JOY! In addition, there are monitors at either end of the armory hallway and in the gift shop, showing the twerking video Whose Booty Is This, the 2015 King of Arms parade and coronation, and the 2021 postapocalyptic Build or Destroy. Be sure to check out the cases in the shop, as Newsome has snuck in some hand-carved mahogany and resin African objects alongside the armory’s historic pieces, including Adinkra, Gemini, Brolic, and Unity. On February 20, the armory hosted the salon “Captcha: Dancing, Data, Liberation,” an all-day seminar examining art, technology, and Black queer culture and quantum visual language that you can watch here.

Given the history of hate and oppression that Assembly takes on, it is a surprisingly hopeful, forward-thinking installation, as Newsome envisions a “utopian future [of] beloved togetherness” at the intersection of humanity and technology, where “racial hierarchies and biases” can be overcome through what he calls a “real reboot.” Being and Assembly are only the beginning.

ANDY WARHOL: PHOTO FACTORY / ANDERS PETERSEN: COLOR LEHMITZ

Andy Warhol exhibit has been extended at Fotografiska through February 20 (photo by Dario Lasagni)

ANDY WARHOL: PHOTO FACTORY / ANDERS PETERSEN: COLOR LEHMITZ
Fotografiska
281 Park Ave. South at Twenty-Second St.
Open daily, $16-$26, 9:00 am – 9:00 pm
www.fotografiska.com/nyc

When I told a good friend of mine who teaches visual art that we were going to make our first visit to Fotografiska, she immediately asked, “Why?” The institution refers to itself as “a museum experience for the modern world,” with locations in Estonia, Sweden, Shanghai, and, soon, Berlin and Miami. It opened in the landmarked Church Missions House on Park Ave. South in December 2019, only a few months before the pandemic lockdown. It is not for everyone; seeing a show can feel like attending a gallery opening, with groups of people drinking cocktails, chatting away, and taking their time to get just the right picture of themselves in front of the photographs. Fotografiska’s motto is: “Have fun. Stay late. Get deep. Spill your drink.”

When we went, we saw a few disappointing, uninspiring exhibits; one relied on a slide show and reproductions of the work instead of original pieces, and two others were accompanied by poorly translated wall text. But across the six floors were two eye-opening presentations that make a trip to Fotografiska a must, even if you are not going to down martinis and snap away into the night.

Continuing through February 20, “Andy Warhol: Photo Factory” consists of more than 120 rarely or never-before seen works by Andy Warhol, from shots of familiar celebrities to photobooth strips to eight remarkable stitched photographs and studies from his 1974 Polaroid series “Ladies and Gentlemen,” of trans people and drag queens; he later turned some of these images into silkscreens. A pair of men in tuxedos serve food to a smiling Jean-Michel Basquiat. Keith Haring stands with his arm around Dolly Parton by a pond. Grace Jones is draped in white fur, black gloves, and a red scarf.

Andy Warhol exhibit at Fotografiska includes rarely seen images (photo by Dario Lasagni)

In one area, pictures are arranged on wallpaper depicting high-heeled shoes; several Screen Tests peek out from a wall covered in silver foil. Nine small nudes are arranged in three rows, primarily focusing on buttocks. Quotes from Warhol’s published diaries accompany some works.

The most impressive room contains Warhol’s little-seen stitched photos, in which he took one picture, made duplicates, then stitched them together with thread to create something wholly new, three-dimensional repeated images, loosely held together, of nudes, a beach landscape, and Steven Spielberg. The hand of the artist is key to Warhol’s success here; he went everywhere with his camera, becoming his own Instagram, taking photos that, essentially, anyone could have, in photo booths, with a Polaroid camera, threading some together himself. But, of course, nobody’s Instagram page will ever match his.

Even the introductory text is better, written by culture writer and curator Vince Aletti, who notes, “Andy Warhol’s art has been so thoroughly absorbed into the culture that it’s difficult to imagine the shock, consternation, and thrill it once provoked. He was a joke; he was a genius. His Pop was the purest, the shrewdest, the wittiest — both the most straightforward and the most confounding.” It is this dichotomy that keeps Warhol so popular, both among serious art lovers and people who just want to have some fun, stay late, and spill their drink.

The other must-see exhibit at Fotografiska is “Anders Petersen: Color Lehmitz,” through March 6. The show zeroes in on the Stockholm-born photographer’s pictures taken in Café Lehmitz in the late 1960s, shots of men and women having fun, staying late, and drowning themselves in drink. He invites the viewer into the seedy joint, where members of a motley crew play around, get into fights, smoke, and fall in love in a port neighborhood filled with sailors and brothels.

“The people at Lehmitz had a presence and a sincerity that I myself lacked,” Petersen, who goes everywhere with a camera on his belt, says about the series. “You were allowed to be desperate, tender, sit by yourself, or become part of the community. In the vulnerability, there was a lot of warmth and tolerance.” In a short documentary, Petersen explains that when he takes photos, he thinks of them as a book, not just individual images. In the wall text, curator Angie Åström writes, “The photos from Cafe Lehmitz become a kind of family album.”

In an accompanying slide show, Lehmitz, who is in his late seventies — he was twenty-three when he took these photos — talks about many of the photos, recounting each individual, sharing barroom stories about them. If you get the feeling that you’ve walked into a Tom Waits album, you’ve grasped the aesthetic: Petersen’s original photo of a shirtless man with tattoos snuggling into the neck of a laughing woman (“Lilly och Rose”) became the cover of the gravelly voiced singer and actor’s 1985 album, Rain Dogs,.

In other photos, four men argue over beers. A man stands alone against a pole, looking right into the camera, blowing out smoke from his cigarette. A woman seems surprised when a man puts his hand up her shirt, the jukebox and a door with broken glass in the background. A couple Petersen refers to as Bonnie and Clyde smoke while leaning on a pinball machine. A woman puts her hand to the face of an elderly man who blankly stares out at nothing, as if she is checking for signs of life.

The photos also come to life in a series of contact sheets Petersen processed in the late 1960s for the publication of his Café Lehmitz book. Seen in large-scale, the decaying sheets contain yellow and red dots, cross-outs in black, and yellow and green tints, featuring not only the images that he would use in the book and can be seen on their own in the exhibition but additional takes that were not used but form their own narrative on these sheets, as if stills from a film that was never made.

“It’s a place that I absolutely don’t want to romanticize, since the circumstances were anything but that,” Petersen explains. “But there was still that universal togetherness and presence that is often missing from fancy parlors or properly lit break rooms. That thing that many of us are longing for, but that our culture seldom gives us the tools for, to let us really connect with each other.”

Petersen’s photographs give voice to the marginalized, the disenfranchised, lonely people seeking solace in a life that might not have quite gone the way they expected. But Petersen makes no judgment about them, instead merely depicting them as they are, celebrating each and every one, and we are all the better for it.