News Art Blog

By the 1960s, the two most criticized art forms in America were modern art and television.  Some critics called modern art mystifying junk, while others targeted TV as anything from trash to a threat to democracy. Revolution of the Eye: Modern Art and the Birth of American Television at The Jewish Museum, New York, hopes to redeem both media by exploring how modern art provided an ethos and aesthetic for early television — a debt repaid later as television, in turn, inspired a new generation of modern artists, including Andy Warhol, who began as a modernist-influenced graphic designer for, among other clients, television networks. By looking back at modern art and television’s mutual love affair from the 1940s to the 1970s, Revolution of the Eye challenges us to reflect on the artistic aspirations of TV’s latest golden age. Please come over to Picture This at Big Think to read more of "Eye Opening: Modern Art and the Early Days of American Television."

 When David Bowie played Andy Warhol in the 1996 film Basquiat, he wore Warhol’s actual wig and glasses. Bowie met Warhol in his travels through the art world and even played the song he wrote about him to Warhol, which Andy, of course, didn’t like. In an interview leading up to the exhibition David Bowie is (at the Art Gallery of Ontario, Ontario, Canada, through November 27, 2013), artist Jeremy Deller compares Warhol’s influence on the 1960s to Bowie influence on the 1970s. “They both ruled the decade,” Deller claims. “They defined it and they changed it.” However, the artist that Bowie mirrors the most may be another of his favorites, Pablo Picasso. Like Picasso, the single constant in Bowie’s career has been being on the cutting edge of change. Over the years, Bowie’s been Ziggy Stardust, Tao Jones, Halloween Jack, Aladdin Sane, the Thin White Duke, and John Merrick, the “Elephant Man.” But Bowie’s always been Bowie through all those incarnations. David Bowie is shows you how he’s been all those things and more, but also what he “is” today—an influential force beyond any single art form, the Picasso of our time. Please come over to Picture This at Big Think to read more of "Is David Bowie the Picasso of Our Time?"

Is any artist linked inseparably with an article of clothing as René Magritte and the bowler hat? Whether raining down from the sky or with faces obscured by apples, Magritte’s bowler-hatted men have found a home in mainstream visual culture even if Magritte’s own name always hasn’t. Over the years, Magritte’s become the kinder, gentler Surrealist—the anti-Dali who doesn’t roam nightmare landscapes of the psyche full of sex and madness. We know and almost want to know a Magritte as gentle as the Paul Simon song about him, but the reality (like the reality of the song, if you listen closely) is much stranger and darker. The Museum of Modern Art’s new exhibition, Magritte: The Mystery of the Ordinary, 1926–1938, goes back to the beginning of Magritte’s career, before widespread acceptance and Magritte’s own public image making smoothed the rough edges of his Surrealism, which was just as sharp and disturbing as that of Dali, but less obvious for looking so ordinary. Please come over to Picture This at Big Think to read more of "The Darker Side of Magritte, the Kinder, Gentler Surrealist."

Art theft is a terrible problem worldwide. Aside from robbing the public of enjoying the great works of the past, art theft often leads to damage to the art and involvement with organized crime, who see great art with established monetary value as a readymade kind of currency. However, the recent theft of Salvador Dalí’s 1949 painting Cartel de Don Juan Tenorioon June 19^th and its subsequent return on June 30^th adds a fittingly surreal twist to the taking of a work by the arch surrealist(shown above). Not to condone art theft in any way and not to make light of breaking the law, but is it possible to see this caper as a work of art itself? Is it permissible to steal a surrealist painting surreally? Please come over to Picture This at Big Think to read more of "How to Steal a Surrealist Painting Surreally."

Andy Warhol looked for fame any place he could find it, so news that a crater on the surface of the planet Mercury has been named in his honor comes as no surprise. Warhol joined 22 other famous dead artists, musicians, and writers in that distinction recently, according to a NASA press release last month. It may seem like one small step for Warhol, but it actually might be one giant leap for late 20^th century art’s acceptance on a universal level. Please come over to Picture This at Big Think to read more of "How Andy Warhol Ended up in a Crater on Mercury."

Salvador Dalí never worked small. In fact, he was downright operatic in everything he did—colorful, bombastic, and loud. Now, Dalí the painter is finally Dalí the Opera. Yo, Dalí ("I, Dalí" in English) recently opened at the Theatre of the Zarzuela in Madrid, Spain, and will move on to Barcelona’s Gran Teatre del Liceu in October. Originally meant to celebrate the centennial of Dalí’s birth in 2004 but delayed until now, Yo, Dalí begins in 1929, when the arch surrealist met his muse and soul mate, Gala, and ends with his death in 1989. This opera tries to capture all the passion and tragedy of the six decades in between. Please come over to Picture This at Big Think to read more of "Salvador Dali… the Opera?"