Vita Brevis Arts Bureau

dailyartspace:

Artwork of the day:

Untitled (Trains Crossing the Rio Grande), Laredo, Texas by Victoria Sambunaris

— 6 days ago with 24 notes

prelude-to-silence:

Dieter Detzner. Robert (acrylglas; 160 x 160 x 90 cm, unique). 2006.

(via Sassa Trülzsch, Berlin)

(via wowgreat)

— 6 days ago with 513 notes

Exhibitions to Know Well (a highly selective list)

Armory Show /The International Exhibition of Modern Art (1913) 69th Infantry Regiment Armory, New York City

Bachelor Machines (1975) Venice Biennial

Black Male: Representations of Masculinity in Contemporary American Art (1994) Whitney Museum of American Art, New York

China Avant-Garde Exhibition (1989) National Art Gallery, Beijing

Culture in Action (2010) Sculpture Chicago

Cities on the Move (1997-2000) Secession, Vienna

Degenerate Art (1937) Munich

Difference: On Representation and Sexuality (1984) The New Museum of Contemporary Art, New York

Documenta 5 (1972) Kassel

Documenta 11 (2002) Kassel

Do It (1997) Hans Ulrich Obrist/e-flux

Earth Art (1969) Andrew Dickson White Museum of Art, Cornell University, Ithaca

Eccentric Abstraction (1966) at the Fischbach Gallery, New York

Ecstatic Resistance (2010) Grand Arts Gallery, Kansas City

elles@centrepompidou (2010) Centre Georges Pompidou, Paris

Experimental Geography (2010) Independent Curators International

First Russian Art Exhibition (1922) Galerie van Diemen, Berlin

Formalismus (2004) at Kunstverein, Hamberg

Formlessness: Modernism Against the Grain (1996) Centre Georges Pompidou, Paris

The Generational (2009) The New Museum, New York

Global Feminisms (2007) The Brooklyn Museum, New York

Happening und Fluxus (1970) Kölnischer Kunstveiren

Inside the Visible (1996) Institute of Contemporary Art, Boston

International Exhibition of the New Realists (1962)Sidney Janis Gallery, New York

Into the Light: The Projected Image in American Art 1964-1977 (2001) Whitney Museum of American Art, New York

Istanbul Biennial (2005)

Istanbul Biennial (2009)

Les Immateriaux (1985) Centre Georges Pompidou, Paris

Living As Form (2011) Creative Time

The London International Surrealist Exhibition (1936)New Burlington Galleries, London

The Look of Law (2006) University of California, Irvine

Magiciens de la Terre (1989) Centre Georges Pompidou, Paris

Memoire des camps: Photographies des camps de concentration et d’extermination Nazis, 1933-1999 (2001) Hôtel de Sully, Paris

Mixed-Use Manhattan (2010) Museo Nacional Centro de Arte Reina Sofía, Madrid

Paris-New York, 1908-1968 exhibition series Centre Georges Pompidou, Paris

Part Object, Part Sculpture (2005) The Wexner Center for Contemporary Art, Columbus

Partners (2003) Haus der Kunst, Munich

Pictures (1977) Artists Space, New York

Primary Structures (1966) The Jewish Museum, New York

Salon des Refusés (1863) Paris

Sensation (1999) The Brooklyn Museum, New York

Software (Information Technology: Its New Meaning In Art) (1970) The Jewish Museum, New York

Solitaire (2008) The Wexner Center for Contemporary Art, Columbus

Sonderbund (1912) Cologne

Unmonumental (2007) The New Museum, New York

WACK! Art and the Feminist Revolution (2007) Museum of Contemporary Art, Los Angeles

What Happened To Institutional Critique (1993) American Fine Arts Co., New York

When Attitudes Become Form (Live in Your Head: When Attitudes Become Form (Works, Concepts, Processes, Situations, Information) (1969) Kunsthalle Bern

Whitney Biennial (2012) Whitney Museum of American Art, New York

Work Ethic (2003) The Baltimore Museum of Art

Zeitgeist (1982) at Martin Gropius Bau in Berlin

Zeitlos (1988) at Hamberger Bahnhof, Berlin

— 1 week ago with 4 notes

#art #art history #curating #exhibitions

cjwho:

Architectual Photography By Jared Lim

(via cosascool)

— 1 week ago with 718 notes

iesef:

“Blocks”

Seen in Binghampton.. Phonetic spelling of “heal” I’m assuming. Crude but more impact than a tweet or Facebook update, Bro.

— 1 week ago with 8 notes

#Memphis #photography #Jackie Ellison #landscape #graffiti #monuments

art-documents:

El Anatsi @ MOMA in NY

— 1 week ago with 126 notes

contemporaryartdaily:

Nicolas Party at The Modern Institute

— 1 week ago with 213 notes

ffffffound:

France & Son Aktieselskab on Flickr - Photo Sharing!

— 1 week ago with 28 notes

likeafieldmouse:

Ryoji Ikeda - The Transfinite (2011)

“A huge, immersive, electronic light-and-sound installation consisting of an immense wall — 54 feet wide by 40 feet tall — which serves as a screen for streaming video projections.

On one side, horizontal black, gray and white stripes and bands divided into left and right sections scroll downward, flickering furiously to the sound of aggressively percussive, buzzing and whistling electronic music emitted by powerful speakers.

he bar-code-like patterns extend across the white floor in front of the wall, where visitors who have doffed their shoes may loll, dance or meditate. It’s like a walk-in, animated Op Art painting.

On the other side, the floor is covered by soft black fabric and the wall is flooded by finely articulated, incomprehensibly complicated numerical and graphic data.

What is it to be human in such a universe? What values other than statistical ones sustain us?”

(via staceythinx)

— 2 weeks ago with 4317 notes

London Day One

I suppose it must have been a Thursday, the night of the lunar eclipse, when the moonlight made the square adjacent to his hotel shine like a slightly eerie noontime, with shadows pronounced and the sky an odd manner ashen gray. It was his first day in London, and it showed. He’d paid too much for a taxi from Gatwick, because it wasn’t a taxi at all, but a mini-cab, and because it was mid-way into the journey before he’d realized there was no meter. He did not think he’d be required to negotiate, or that there may be anything untoward with the driver’s demeanor, slightly too insistent that the distance was long, and the route convoluted, and that traffic was heavy, and that 70GBP wasn’t at all out of the ordinary. His clothes were not local. His voice was not either. It was his first day in London, and it showed.

Upon his arrival at the narrow hotel in Goodge Street he made his way up the narrow stairs and into a narrow room with a narrow mirror and a narrow sink. Not wanting to waste a minute of this new freedom, he immediately dropped his bags and went out into the street to the gathering crowd looking upward into the air, somehow familiar even so far from home. His eyes could not remove themselves from the assembled crowd, scanning their faces as if expecting to recognize someone known to him, a comrade from school, a relative of unknown lineage, or perhaps a member of the same tribe for which he knew not yet its name, but wished desperately to belong. He was completely alone in this place full of people speaking in new brilliant tongues, and for the first time in his life he felt truly, unconditionally, ecstatically free.

As the novelty of the moon’s escapades wore thin, the lure of the night grew strong, and he meandered around the periphery of the milling throng down a lane lined with plane trees pale and stately, past the brown brick and white stone houses to the first pub he came across and went inside. It was his first day in London, and it showed.

There was something exhilarating about walking into a bar in a foreign country on that first day. It was not some kind of instinctual urge to jump and sing, or shout divine epiphanies. No, this was more of a tingling on the back of the neck as the hairs stood on end, a gnawing pang in the deepestmost part of the heart, and a sense of pinpoint focus and comprehension of every element being in its rightful place, whether at rest or in motion, within the environs around him. He was alone, exquisitely so. He knew no one, had no preconceived notions of himself meeting him at the door of whatever establishment he might choose to enter. There was no knowledge a priori of whom he was meant to be, no blunt assertion of assumptions as to how he should comport himself or of what subjects he should speak. No, he was not outwardly expressive of the joy racing throughout each and every cell of him, but calm in a manner never felt before. It was an absolute sort of elation, self-contained, channeled, and held fast within the confines of his skin. Who would he be now, with this chance to start over? This was a feeling all his own, the most singular in all his history, and he did not care to loose it upon the world, nor share any part of it with another living soul. No, not quite yet.

— 2 weeks ago with 3 notes

#London #travel #adventure #freedom

Guinness is Good for You

The beer was strange. He’d never seen any of the labels on the taps. He did not know bitters from ales. He ordered a pint of Guinness because it was only thing he’d heard of before, having often held bottles of imported ‘extra stout’ at college parties to impress coeds and underclassmen with his affected worldliness. No matter that it most often made him ill after too many, a burnt metallic bite making his mouth numb and stomach ill induced from all his overreaching. This was an altogether different matter, though. He was mesmerized by the barman’s ritual in the pouring of it. Why was he letting it rest after only half-filling the glass? What was happening with this swirling sediment cascading like velvet curtains to the bottom? How was the head so white atop a volume so black? Why was it so much bigger than the pint glasses at home, grander, even? When its alchemy seemed settled he peered into the side of the glass and could not see through. He smiled. This new intrigue was something that could only be felt in the presence of something very old. He did not understand it, but he was desperate to discover more beyond this glass.

— 2 weeks ago

#Guinness

"Try to learn to breathe deeply, really to taste food when you eat, and when you sleep, really to sleep. Try as much as possible to be wholly alive with all your might, and when you laugh, laugh like hell. And when you get angry, get good and angry. Try to be alive. You will be dead soon enough."

Ernest Hemingway (via theonlymagicleftisart)

— 2 weeks ago with 13406 notes

(Source: tempuros, via urbnite)

— 2 weeks ago with 7913 notes

artruby:

Sol LeWitt, Wall Drawing #879, Loopy Doopy (black and white) (1998).

— 2 weeks ago with 241 notes

Thoughts on the Passing of Sid Selvidge

This week saw the death of arare figure in the chorus of Memphis musicians, and we are all the poorer for his passing. Sid Selvidge has already been lauded for his work devoted to cultivating awareness and appreciation for the roots of local music, that is not my purpose here. Nor is it to praise his songwriting, or membership in seminal bands, or his participation in the vivid culture of musicians as a distinguished man of erudition and (I would argue) Apollian elegance amongst an often more Dionysian crowd. He was all these things, true, and so much more that I am not qualified to comment upon. I mourn the loss of his voice, the very sound of it, and that we shall hear no more from it beyond recordings. I mourn the passing of its timbre and tone, and inflection, and accent, and ethereality, and gentility, and suppleness, and power, and elemental force, not as stone, but of water, filling empty vessels of all shapes like rain, then spilling in rivulets into soil and across asphalt, swelling like the big river that keeps on rolling along past the city where he lived carrying all that it encounters far from this place into a vast ocean beyond a hundred horizons as yet unseen and then some.

I shall miss his voice, and the sort of South it bespoke.

— 2 weeks ago with 1 note

#Sid Selvidge #Memphis #music #voice