In capturing joy, Mickalene Thomas stayed close to home. Zach Hilty/BFA.com
Those who enjoy photography have had a hard time in recent years. Because it is associated with the apps through which people of all ages communicate, it is taken for background—as that thing that distracts you from your DMs. The art boom caused the medium to be neglected at galleries (because you can’t really see the same ROI on photography that you can with painting), and now that the market is down, the only answer seems to be smaller paintings. It’s always been a little surprising that Apple, which is occasionally the most valuable company in the world, would commission a photography exhibition alongside the launch of its new iPhones. But they’ve done exhibitions for the past two releases, and the latest iteration staged in Chelsea, London and Shanghai simultaneously felt like it could have passed for your average gallery show.
Held at the old Petzel space on 18th Street, “Joy, in 3 Parts” was curated by Kathy Ryan, longtime director of photography at the New York Times Magazine. The show brought together works by Inez & Vinoodh, Mickalene Thomas and Trunk Xu, each tasked with interpreting joy. The result was three bodies of work that were handsome and strange, a credit to Ryan’s flexibility.
Inez & Vinoodh used the prompt to tell a love story about their son and his partner over five images. “They saw joy as their son’s love story,” Ryan told Observer, in part because it reminded them of their own meeting at art school. The artists were inspired by Zabriskie Point (1970) and its desert landscape, and so took the opportunity to travel to Marfa, Texas, for their shoot.
There are shades of Badlands (1973), too. In Marfa, the besotted couple is accompanied by a red fabric that becomes its own character—a veil, a flag, a cocoon. Sure, the fabric basically symbolizes the love between the two kids, but in no way does this come off as corny. “Whenever their work goes into the surreal, something magical always happens,” Ryan said. “That red cloth became almost like a character.”
The sequence flanks three vivid color images with black-and-white portraits. One key frame—Charles and Natalie running with the red fabric behind them—was transformed when the sun broke through clouds. “You plan and plan, and then you hope serendipity kicks in,” Ryan said. “Just before the sun went down, we got that terrific rainbow flare.”
Where Inez & Vinoodh looked outward, Mickalene Thomas stayed close to home. She chose Fort Greene Park, her local Brooklyn greenspace, and captured neighborhood life in seemingly candid encounters: dancers, rope jumpers, a couple in a hammock. Initially shot in color, the series turned during editing. “After the first morning, she said, ‘You know what: I’m seeing this in black and white,’” Ryan said. “It strips away unnecessary noise and lets you lean into rhythm, form and emotion.”
It’s a bold move for someone associated with her use of color. According to Ryan, Thomas said politics were behind the choice. She wanted to represent Black people outside of the context of labor. “This work counters that narrative,” Ryan said, “exploring rest as a form of resistance, power, and self-reclamation.” They feel documentary, cinematic and natural all at once.
How Trunk Xu visualizes joy. Zach Hilty/BFA.com
Meanwhile, Beijing-born, Los Angeles-based Trunk Xu staged his contributions in a more obvious way and chose to confront the omnipresence of cameras in daily life. “The whole idea was fine art, not ads,” she said. But he was adamant, in a good way. To him, joy is wrapped up in the process of documenting. “The picture itself and the making of the picture is part of that dance with life.” His tableaux show skaters, beachgoers and couples photographing one another on their phones, but in subtle and unorthodox ways, with tight composition.
Ryan closed our conversation by situating the phone within photography’s long arc: from 8×10 plates to 35mm reportage, Polaroid experiments and now pocket devices with multiple 48MP sensors. My favorite of Xu’s images involved a pool shot that seemed to be captured by several people, but ironically, you can’t see any of their phones.
Pop Art emerged at a pivotal moment when mass consumption and communication strategies were just beginning to take shape, capturing the “inevitable phenomenon” of postwar American pop culture and its persistent and pervasive imagery. Often termed “capitalist realism,” Pop Art reflects a radical acceptance of modern civilization, embracing the ways society communicates, produces and consumes. Unlike earlier avant-garde movements, which aimed to narrow the gap between art and everyday life, Pop Art was the first to fully engage with the cultural landscape as it was—making it democratic and broadly accessible in a way few movements had managed before. This accessibility has helped make Pop Art one of the most inviting and relatable art forms for the general public. Though contemporary critics dismissed its “poverty of visual invention” and even questioned its status as art, Pop Art broke down the walls between art and culture, speaking directly in the language of the everyday society it portrayed.
“Pop Forever, Tom Wesselmann &…” at Fondation Louis Vuitton offers a deeply comprehensive look at Pop Art’s enduring significance. The exhibition centers on Tom Wesselmann, a key figure in the movement, with 150 paintings and other works that highlight and explore the legacy of his approach. It then expands to explore Pop Art through the lens of seventy works by thirty-five artists across generations and nationalities, creating a visual narrative of the ways subsequent generations of artists have engaged critically with the pop culture of their time. The diverse collection of works questions what Pop Art means today and its relevance in the future in an age of hyper-communication through digital media that empowers consumers to act as co-creators, enabling the continuous, global circulation of messages and cultural expressions.
On the occasion of the exhibition’s opening during Paris Art Week, Observer spoke with artists Derrick Adams, Mickalene Thomas and Tomokazu Matsuyama—all of whom have newly commissioned works presented in the show—about their relation to Tom Wesselmann and Pop Art, and what this term means for them today.
“I think that Pop art was the only art movement to date, and the audience that the work that’s made is a response to not only the society that informs it but also the audience that embraces it and communicates to it,” Adams said. The link between this artist and Pop Art, and in particular Wesselmann’s work, lies in how he navigates media culture and discusses consumerism. His relationship with Wesselmann started while studying his archives, as he was interested in understanding more about his process and how it related the material construction of his work to media culture. “I was curious about how he started, finished and collaged things together, whether this was in paintings or sculptural objects. This is something that I also do in my work.”
Adams was particularly drawn to Wesselmann’s Great American Nudes series and the controversial way it portrayed the female figure in American culture, sparking in him a mix of interest, concern and curiosity. His response to Wesselmann is embodied in the series Great Black American/African American Nudes, a set of four new works in the show depicting Black male nudes, whose colors—drawn from the African American flag popularized by David Hammons (black, green and red)—are accented with comic-book-style onomatopoeias. Through these parodies of the American dream, Adams critiques the image of white, heterosexual, patriotic American superheroes, challenging the paradoxical values underpinning this dream and exposing its inherently marginalizing nature, which has long excluded entire segments of the population, at least in media representation. In a conversation with curators Dieter Buchhart and Anna Karina Hofbauer, Adams noted that “they aren’t necessarily counterimages, but more of an offering to assist in the expansion of the notion associated with who and what ‘Great American’ fully represents.” The figures are also partially censored, adding a playful, provocative edge, blending humor with eroticism as they evoke social media’s use of symbols like eggplants and peaches to imply sexual meanings without explicit language.
Adams observed that consumer culture and communication have shifted significantly since Pop Art’s emergence: “I think we are now more self-conscious and aware of our image.” Social media has fundamentally altered the dynamic between media and consumers, making them far less passive, as they now play a critical role in co-creating both media and meaning. “Now you can curate your image and can no longer be objectified, but you can objectify yourself,” he clarified. Rather than imposing fixed models and desires, media industries now cater to a more fluid sense of desire. “It’s more about allowing people to be part of popular culture and contributing in defining what this should be.”
Adams’ work thoughtfully examines how people express themselves through media today, using daily “staging” to shape identity and storytelling, which directly impacts consumer habits. He also noted that the art world and institutions are now much more attuned to what “Pop” signifies for audiences and actively seek ways to connect with it; data allows for a deeper understanding of what people enjoy, desire and respond to, along with insights on viewers—knowledge widely used in marketing across industries. Reflecting on his relationship with Pop Art, Adams suggested that the references to popular culture in his work “allow people to have a direct relationship with it.”
Thomas observed that while the willingness to engage with contemporary culture persists, the very definition of “popular culture” has evolved along with the artistic practices addressing it. “It’s transformed because it’s of that moment,” she said, and art “is about how we define it as a culture and how those artists decide to pull from that particular moment and what they want to present to the world. It’s about the new technology and the new media that are available. Today, it’s more diverse, it’s expansive, it’s global, it’s universal. Art is now amalgamated with different sort of ethnicities in a global society.” Thomas’ own style reflects this shift; her vibrant, engaging works draw from pop culture, particularly in their connection to fashion trends. Bold depictions celebrating the beauty and resilience of Black female bodies challenge historical narratives that have sought to erase or marginalize them.
In her work, Thomas often employs photographic materials, engaging in the hybridization of painting and mechanical reproduction. She fragments these images, adding unexpected materials like rhinestones and glitter to empower femininity and female independence. During our conversation, she shared her longstanding fascination with Tom Wesselmann’s work, noting significant similarities between hers and his. While an undergraduate at Pratt Institute, Thomas discovered Wesselmann’s art, conducting research in his archives—a journey culminating in her current exhibition. What particularly interested her, as she emphasized, was how Wesselmann portrayed both white and Black female bodies on equal terms, exploring how both inspire desire. “When it came to the American nude female body, there was no hierarchy between a Black woman’s body and a white woman’s body,” she said. This was radical for its time and remains so to some degree even today. Thomas, as a queer Black woman creating art that celebrates Black female bodies, still encounters resistance.
At Fondation Louis Vuitton, Thomas presents works that explore Black erotica and delve into themes of sexuality, desire and the female gaze with a boldness akin to Wesselmann’s, similarly challenging societal norms around the representation of the nude female body, especially the Black female body. She highlights a shared element in Wesselmann’s work and her own: empowering women by portraying them as fully aware of their seductive power. This approach invites desire while pushing back against the objectification of female bodies in mass media and advertising. Examining these narratives and the societal dynamics they reflect remains one of Pop Art’s greatest strengths, according to Thomas. “I think most artists today are pop artists. We’re always bringing things to the forefront and bringing attention to what surrounds us, inviting others to question it.”
Japanese-born and U.S.-based, Matsuyama offers a unique perspective, highlighting the pervasive influence of American commercial culture worldwide while drawing parallels with Japanese culture. His work examines how these cultural strategies operate within commercial, media, and social media realms, contributing to a global culture that often leans toward homogenization yet thrives on a rich exchange of symbols and elements from diverse backgrounds.
In particular, Matsuyama’s shaped canvases feature densely layered collages that capture the cultural and aesthetic diversity of our global society. The sources for each piece range from traditional art history to contemporary fashion campaigns, along with objects and interiors inspired by popular design magazines. These are often blended with references to Japanese culture, visible in the manga-inspired flatness of his characters and traditional landscape motifs. His art embodies a cultural fluidity that reflects the diasporic experience and the global nature of identity, moving beyond a fixed idea of pop culture. “I was a minority when I got to the U.S., but even in Japan, I was that, as my father was a pastor,” he explained. “Throughout my life, I couldn’t adapt. Now everybody’s trying to adapt to the world. What I’m doing in my work is adapting different influences to reflect us.”
When discussing his connections to Pop Art, Matsuyama noted that if his work is categorized as such, it’s because his palette is colorful and certain elements align with the genre. He also acknowledged the influence of pioneers like Warhol and Wesselmann, the latter of whom played a key role in his early digital collages, which he later translated to shaped canvas. What intrigues him most, however, is that while Japanese culture has traditionally valued fine objects such as historical ceramics or porcelains, Wesselmann and other Pop artists elevated the everyday object to a similar level. “My way of assembling fictional landscapes from everyday items represents a continuation and transformation of Pop Art,” he said. At the same time, Matsuyama layers his work with additional dimensions, incorporating a final dripping of white paint reminiscent of Pollock’s Abstract Expressionism and treating art and cultural history as a vast, global archive—carefully researched, selected and recombined using digital tools before translating them into painting.
At the same time, while Pop artists like Warhol explored the imagination conveyed through media such as TV, magazines and advertisements, Matsuyama engages with a digital archive of our civilization—one that already fuses traditional and historical, contemporary and vernacular, on a global and multicultural scale. He also draws parallels to today’s cultural disorientation, noting that “back then, in the ’70s, America was going through this huge economic growth, and therefore there was a dark side that was coming.” The quest for idols, for points of reference, for something to believe in is what both pop culture and Pop Art ultimately express. “Now we’re going to this last generation stage, like: Where do we fit? What do we belong to?”
In this light, Matsuyama’s art—and indeed, this entire exhibition—can be seen as a celebration of “Pop” as a model for multiculturalism, which has already permeated today’s global popular culture. This model embraces the complex, multifaceted nature of modern popular culture and offers the potential to move beyond the subtle nationalist undertones of the American Dream that Pop Art once exposed, instead fostering a new sense of belonging rooted in shared global identity and an ongoing, cross-border exchange of goods and symbolic meanings they carry.
Welcome to One Fine Show, where Observer highlights a recently opened exhibition at a museum outside of New York City—a place we know and love that already receives plenty of attention.
Collage is a virile form first associated with modernism that has endured a number of ‘posts,’ the first being postmodernism and post-postmodernism. It remains relevant in our current age, even though we’re pretty much post-movements in general. Collage borders on post-art, though, dragging the world into the work, sometimes to the point that you wonder about the necessity of creation at all. Experience seems to offer so many readymades. As the jingle that obsesses Leopold Bloom goes: “What is life without/ Plumtree’s Potted Meat?/ Incomplete”
So widespread is collage that a soon-to-close show at the Phillips Collection, “Multiplicity: Blackness in Contemporary American Collage,” showcases the technique through a specific lens but still spans three floors in two buildings. It brings together more than fifty works to explore how the African American story is constructed from a great deal of diverse material. The show features pieces by forty-nine artists including Mark Bradford, Lauren Halsey, Rashid Johnson, Kerry James Marshall, Wangechi Mutu, Tschabalala Self, Lorna Simpson, Mickalene Thomas and Kara Walker.
Halsey has to be one of the hottest names in the art world at the moment, fresh from last year’s commission on the rooftop of the Metropolitan Museum of Art and her columns at this year’s Venice Biennale, which borrowed from both the Hathoric discipline and Shrek. Her collages here ace the assignment, resembling at first glance the kind of magazine collages you might have made in elementary school, if you’d had a supernatural sense of color and theme. Loda Land (2020) probes the kind of visuals one encounters in South Central to weave a narrative about space, aliens and humanity, showing no more of her hand than the scissors she holds. A similar work, betta daze (loda land) (2021) introduces Hotep culture and pyramids to this conversation.
Born in 1943, Howardena Pindell might be slightly less buzzy but employs a similarly compelling interplay of colors between seemingly unrelated bits of subject matter, hers connected only slightly more by having been drawn. Shaped like brains, her pieces feel naturally occurring, though every inch of them has been made by hand. Lorna Simpson’s contributions merge the pop cultural and natural, with pin-up gals from the 1960s who are becoming star charts on a cheeky background that is probably legally distinct from Yves Klein’s blue.
Great work has been done with basketball art by Jeff Koons and Paul Pfeiffer, but in this show, Tay Butler manages to achieve what they do in Hyperinvisibility (2022) with far less technical support. In it, he cuts up a familiar image of Michael Jordan about to slam dunk and somehow turns all the little pieces so that the man has vanished. Perhaps this is why artists of all races and persuasions keep returning to collage. It is so simple and so effective no matter the era.
