There is something a little chipper about the art world right now that belies the national mood. Palettes tend toward cheery hues and uncomplicated content.
I left Gregg Bordowitz’s recently-closed exhibition at The Brick, “This is Not a Love Song,” thinking the same thing as upon leaving The Brutalist: “I didn’t know it was going to be so Jewish.”
As a little girl exploring downtown San Francisco, my father would implore me to match his quick gait, saying, “Keep up, or you’ll get run over–and don’t make eye contact.”
For thousands of years, flowers have been a rich source of symbolism. Dating back to the Ottomans, floriology, or the language of flowers, blossomed in the Victorian era when a bouquet functioned as a nonverbal code.
Edzard Reuter was a trailblazer in industry, and he and his wife were equally visionary in their approach to collecting, with a focus on radical 20th-century artists including Heinz Mack, Yves Klein and Lucio Fontana.