ReportWire

Tag: nina simone

  • Gagosian’s Kara Vander Weg On Shaping the Afterlife of an Artist’s Work

    [ad_1]

    The Truck Trio as shown in “Walter De Maria: The Singular Experience.” Courtesy Gagosian

    Earlier this month, Gagosian debuted a stunning show featuring the work of Walter de Maria at its Le Bourget gallery in Paris. “Walter De Maria: The Singular Experience” was curated by Donna De Salvo and featured at its heart The Truck Trilogy, a trio of vintage Chevrolet pickup trucks outfitted with De Maria’s signature stainless-steel rods. The work was conceived in 2011 and completed in 2017, four years after De Maria’s death at the age of 77.

    This was the same year that the gallery launched its “Building a Legacy Program,” which marshals the gallery’s extensive resources to ensure that artists remain in the minds of the public in the future, whether they are young, old, or deceased, through educational efforts and ambitious shows like “The Singular Experience.” The program has been spearheaded by Kara Vander Weg, a managing director at the gallery, whom we caught up with to hear more about its origins and processes.

    How did the idea for the Building a Legacy Program originate in 2017, and what gaps in artist or estate planning was it meant to address?

    KVW: The catalyst was Walter De Maria, an artist who had been close to the gallery since the 1980s, dying in 2013 without a will. The lack of preparation threw his estate into turmoil but, fortunately, the gallery was able to help address a number of immediate practical needs, including preserving and documenting his archives. Nuanced decisions had to be made about his intentions and his work, including how it was displayed. Walter was incredibly precise and exacting, and to go from his presence, a resource that was always there, to nothing was a profound shock, particularly for Elizabeth Childress, who had managed his studio for decades.

    Through our work with the Richard Avedon Foundation, which began in 2011, we learned a lot about the challenges and questions they faced when Dick had died suddenly several decades earlier. It has been instructive to learn about their organization, which is impressive, and implemented processes for decision-making as the artist would have wished.

    Through our work with artists and with their subsequent estates and foundations—which is inevitable when working together over many years—we have seen that balancing an artist’s legacy with ongoing operational concerns can be incredibly challenging. As much as the gallery, as an entity outside of the family or studio, can be helpful, we want to be. For all artists, it is ideal to have some plans for legacy decisions in place. And as the value of art has grown, it has become even more important to have detailed wishes outlined, particularly when it comes to decisions like posthumous work, as well as planning for the resources necessary to carry an artist’s legacy forward.

    A symposium felt like the right way to address some of these delicate topics and provide a space for knowledge sharing between our artists and others. Peer-to-peer support can be an exceptionally helpful resource, and many of the connections that have been made through the symposia continue to be fruitful for the artists and estates.

    The team behind Gagosian Quarterly also saw an opportunity to address many of the questions on people’s minds through thoughtful content in the magazine. We launched an ongoing series featuring conversations with experts in the field of artists’ estates and legacy stewardship who offer insights that hopefully prove useful to artists, their staff, foundations and estates, scholars, and others.

    In working with estates like Walter De Maria’s or Nam June Paik’s, what have been the most revealing challenges in realizing an artist’s intentions after death?

    KVW: Honoring an artist’s wishes and intentions is always the biggest challenge.

    With Walter, we’ve had to make decisions about how to install his work at a level he would have permitted. Fortunately, both Larry [Gagosian] and I worked closely with him and have those experiences to draw on. We also owe a great debt to Elizabeth Childress for her constant counsel. For example, Walter was always incredibly precise about the surface on which his floor sculptures rested; it had to be completely unmarked. For an exhibition at our 21st Street gallery while he was still alive, I remember we had to bring in a trompe l’oeil painter to touch up marks on the concrete floor before he would agree to go ahead with the show. And for the current exhibition at Le Bourget, we had to find solutions to address the floor beneath 13, 14, 15 Meter Rows. These might seem like small things, but we know how critical they were to Walter.

    He was also very resistant to putting out too much information about his work, because he wanted viewers to have a focused, unmediated experience of it. The downside is that, as a result, people haven’t really come to understand the thinking behind his practice. That’s why, for the Le Bourget exhibition, curator Donna De Salvo has included a number of drawings, some of which have never been seen before, something that would never have happened during his lifetime. Our hope is that this will offer the wider public a way into Walter’s thinking: his precision, a bit of his humor, and the connections between his early work and the later pieces for which he became known. These are things we believe are important, not only for his legacy, but also for the scholarship around his work.

    The circumstances of our work on behalf of Nam June Paik are very different, and my colleague Nick Simunovic is best placed to talk about it. [Writer’s note: They wanted Nick to jump in here so I said why not.]

    NS: In the case of Nam June Paik, we partnered with the Estate, who had a clear sense of the artist’s wishes, and we worked tirelessly over a decade to realize a number of important goals.

    When we began working with the Estate in 2015, they were keen to work with a major gallery as a way to shine a spotlight on Nam June’s work, particularly given that the last exhibition sanctioned by the artist was 20 years prior. Larry [Gagosian] had noted that he felt that the artist was a bit lost in the market, and that was a view shared by the family. There was also a realization that there were gaps in the holdings of American museums.

    We laid out a multi-tiered plan that began with that first show in Hong Kong in 2015 and culminated with a major survey in New York planned for 2020. The opening was delayed by the COVID pandemic but eventually opened in 2022.

    We brought in noted curator John G. Hanhardt, who also organized the retrospectives of the artist’s work at the Whitney Museum of American Art, New York (1982), and the Smithsonian American Art Museum, Washington, DC (2011), in addition to the Solomon R. Guggenheim Museum, New York (2000). We were able to strategize and execute against the artist’s wishes because we had clear direction from the Estate, including Nam June’s nephew Ken Hakuta, and input from partners like John Hanhardt and Estate curator Jon Huffman.

    As a result of those efforts, works by the artist from that 2022 exhibition were placed with major museums including The Metropolitan Museum of Art, the Guggenheim Abu Dhabi, the Hirshhorn Museum & Sculpture Garden, and the Bass Museum of Art, filling a crucial gap in the artist’s canon and legacy.

    How do you balance market considerations with curatorial or scholarly fidelity when guiding legacy work inside a commercial gallery?

    KVW: The two are interconnected and I don’t think that is a bad thing, work needs to be placed with owners to ensure the highest level of scholarly fidelity. And good curatorial work can help to bolster an artist’s market.

    The monograph Gagosian published for Walter De Maria is a great example. Little scholarly work had been done on his life, and through our work preserving the archive, we had an opportunity and the ability to take on the project. We had access to rarely seen archival material from his studio and the result is the first comprehensive survey of the artist’s entire oeuvre that explores both his creative career and his personal life.

    It was a massive undertaking that was many years in the making, but the publication will support both future sales and exhibitions of his work. It has already served as the catalogue for the Menil Collection’s 2022-23 exhibition, Walter De Maria: Boxes for Meaningless Work.

    The recent symposium in London gathered artists, curators, and foundation directors. What insights or points of friction surfaced about the future of legacy stewardship?

    KVW: It was our third symposium on the topic of legacy planning, and there was a fascinating session during which I spoke with Mary Dean, Ed Ruscha’s studio director; Waltraud Forelli, Anselm Kiefer’s studio director and board member of the Eschaton–Anselm Kiefer Foundation; and Vladimir Yavachev, director of operations for the Christo and Jeanne-Claude Foundation. A key takeaway from our conversation was the critical importance of hiring an archivist, ideally while an artist is alive.

    Waltraud rightly pointed out that in addition to helping from an organizational perspective, hiring an archivist brought a realization that they couldn’t do everything alone. They needed to plan for a younger generation to continue their work and to take the time now to transfer that knowledge. For Vladimir, who has catalogue raisonné preparations underway, an archivist is particularly important given the volume of material that Christo and Jeanne-Claude retained.

    Mary Dean emphasized another important point, the value of openness, even when addressing a sensitive topic like planning for a future one won’t be part of. For Ed, this is a living, evolving process that he actively engages in through the thoughtful placement of his works and archival material with institutional partners. For instance, the Getty Museum is currently in the process of receiving his street photograph archive. All of his films and artistbook archives are housed at the Harry Ransom Center at the University of Texas, Austin. He has also made significant donations: Ed was born in Omaha, Nebraska, so the Joslyn Art Museum has a substantial collection of his work, and he has donated work to the Fred Jones Jr. Museum of Art in Oklahoma City.

    Younger artists such as Titus Kaphar are building institutions during their lifetimes. How is the conversation about legacy changing for living artists?

    KVW: There is a generation of artists today who are interested in philanthropic endeavors beyond their own artistic practices. Providing space and resources for the creation of foundations and community projects is a big priority and perhaps is an indication of legacy planning taking shape much earlier in artists’ careers.

    There is a tradition of artists stepping up and supporting other artists, one example is Theaster Gates, who has devoted the past 15 years to his Rebuild Foundation. It’s a mantle that artists including Ellen Gallagher and Titus Kaphar are taking up with projects like the Nina Simone House and NXTHVN, respectively.

    But this process isn’t new, there is a history of artist support with someone like Robert Rauschenberg, who during his lifetime formed an entity to help other artists, as did Roy Lichtenstein.

    For galleries, support of an artist needs to evolve to include these priorities, which could be advice around the organization of studio resources or the make-up of a Board of Directors.

    With “The Singular Experience” now open in Paris, featuring De Maria’s Truck Trilogy and 13, 14, 15 Meter Rows, what does this presentation demonstrate about Gagosian’s collaboration with the De Maria Estate? What are the lessons there for other artists planning their estate?

    KVW: The relationship with Walter has always been very personal, his friendship and working relationship with Larry [Gagosian] stretches back more than 35 years, and it has anchored our long commitment to him and his work.

    The approach is methodical and takes time, but the exhibition at Le Bourget is a product of that commitment. It’s his second show in the space and one that we had actually begun discussing before he died in 2013.

    Showing Truck Trilogy outside of the United States for the first time is incredibly exciting. It was his last sculpture, conceived in 2011 and completed posthumously in 2017 according to his specific directions, so it touches on a lot of what we have talked about. It’s also wonderful to be showing 13, 14, 15 Meter Rows at the same time as his inclusion in the exhibition “Minimal,” curated by Dia Art Foundation’s director Jessica Morgan at the Bourse de Commerce, Paris. And it’s all taking place in the same month as Walter would have turned 90.

    But the exhibitions are just one piece in a broader program that aims to cement and extend his legacy, from placing a group of early sculpture and drawings with The Menil Collection (a family that were early champions of the artist) and working with Dia Art Foundation to help conserve The Lightning Field to working tirelessly to publish his monograph. And the work continues as we try to find a home for his archive.

    For artists working today, it can be hard to have the patience to play the long game, but that thought and planning is key. It can also be useful to talk with other artists and studios who are focused on this work. One of the benefits from the symposium was the exchange of ideas and the conversations that happened outside the sessions.

    Looking across the gallery’s roster, what qualities distinguish the artists who are most intentional about shaping their own legacies while still alive? What do they have in common?

    KVW: They have a clear sense of purpose regarding the direction of their work and its legacy. They like control, either maintaining it themselves or wisely bringing in the right studio leadership. They’ve built strong museum connections and have access to resources in terms of staff and space. It’s a reminder of the symbiotic relationship between the market and legacy, artists need resources to actively plan for the future.

    Gagosian’s Kara Vander Weg On Shaping the Afterlife of an Artist’s Work

    [ad_2]

    Dan Duray

    Source link

  • From Madonna to Stevie Nicks: Please Make These Artists’ Music Biopic Next

    [ad_1]

    One surefire way to grab an audience’s attention is to cast a famous actor in a music biopic about an equally famous artist. Think Timothée Chalamet as Bob Dylan, Austin Butler as Elvis Presley, Jeremy Allen White as Bruce Springsteen, and Rami Malek’s Oscar-winning turn as Freddie Mercury in Bohemian Rhapsody. “The success of Bohemian Rhapsody raised eyebrows about what could happen when you’re successful with a biographical film,” Larry Mestel, CEO of Primary Wave Music, a leading music publisher and talent management company told Vanity Fair last year of the music biopic boom in recent years. “It’s been a big explosion. For many years, artists didn’t want to make films that depicted their life story because they were afraid of how it would come out. There’s a much greater openness now that there’s been a bunch of these films that have done very well—their success, but also how the stories have been told and the quality being as vivid as it has been.”

    Further proof of this industry-wide trend: last week’s report from Bloomberg, citing people close to the matter, that Warner Music Group (WMG) is “close to an agreement” with Netflix to create movies and documentaries based on the company’s artists and songs. “Our company has a tremendous catalog: Prince, Madonna, Fleetwood Mac,” WMG CEO Robert Kyncl said at the Bloomberg Screentime conference on Wednesday, October 8, without confirming a specific deal or explicitly naming the streamer. “It just goes on and on and on. The stories we have are incredible, and they haven’t really been told. We’re like Marvel [Comics] for music.”

    Multiple movies about Warner Music artists have already been made (see Joaquin Phoenix as Johnny Cash in 2005’s Walk the Line) or are already in the works—including Selena Gomez as Linda Ronstadt, Leonardo DiCaprio as Frank Sinatra, and Jennifer Lawrence as Ava Gardner. And John Lennon is covered by Harris Dickinson, who plays one-fourth of the Beatles for Sam Mendes’s upcoming four-part film project. But there are dozens of other musicians who’ve earned the biopic treatment.

    Below, five Warner Music artists whose stories we’d like to see on the big screen.

    Stevie Nicks

    Stevie Nicks performing at a Canadian music festival in 1983.Paul Natkin/Getty Images

    [ad_2]

    Savannah Walsh

    Source link

  • At the Park Avenue Armory, a Mondrian Becomes the Stage for Radical Expression

    [ad_1]

    Jeremy Nedd. Photo: Stephanie Berger

    It’s rare that a performance and a venue align so seamlessly. I rarely even consider how the two intersect, since they usually emerge from separate worlds—the universe of a show contained within a given space. But the North American premiere of Monkey Off My Back or The Cat’s Meow, despite being created and first staged in Zürich, Switzerland, in 2021, seems as if it were made for the Park Avenue Armory’s 55,000-square-foot Wade Thompson Drill Hall in 2025.

    The dance-theater-fashion show, directed and choreographed by U.S.-born and Zurich-based Trajal Harrell, unfolds on a bright 150-foot runway designed by Harrell and Erik Flatmo in the style of a Mondrian grid painting. The audience sits on either side of the runway like A-list celebrities, but with oversized programs in stadium-style seating that is more akin to theater. The Armory, long known for its big unconventional productions, has also hosted fashion shows. Fittingly, the building sits nearly midway between the birthplaces of two movement styles central to Harrell’s choreography—Harlem’s ballroom voguing and Judson Dance Theater’s postmodern dance, both from the 1960s. And even though the piece was made during the COVID pandemic and can be read as a meditation on the human need for communal gathering, its themes speak uncannily to the present: What is freedom? Who gets to express themselves freely? What does it mean to look a stranger in the eye?

    Monkey Off My Back or The Cat’s Meow begins with Harrell rising from a seat in the audience and introducing himself as Chloé Malle (Anna Wintour’s successor at Vogue). Harrell/Malle welcomes the crowd and recounts her phone conversation with Harrell, who asked her to open the show, sharing the quote “If you live, sometimes you have to dance.” In this way, we are immediately dropped into the show’s tone—performative, sly and deliberately breaking the fourth wall.

    Two people then peel back the large plastic sheet covering the set, so carefully that the audience at opening night even applauded their effort. On the Mondrian-like floor are low white nightclub-style couches and a central table beneath which an assortment of toys and household objects—props, perhaps—sit poorly concealed.

    A performer in a black Adidas tracksuit raises their hands near their face with eyes closed, mid-gesture, in front of a dimly lit audience.A performer in a black Adidas tracksuit raises their hands near their face with eyes closed, mid-gesture, in front of a dimly lit audience.
    Trajal Harrell. Photo: Stephanie Berger

    Suddenly, music explodes into the vast space. Someone steps onto the red, white, blue and yellow stage, and the show begins again. Performers enter one by one, striding counterclockwise along the perimeter to Samm Bennett & Chunk’s “Part of the Family,” which dissolves into Nina Simone’s “Feeling Good.” The so-called fashion show is immediately off-kilter: “models” wear bathrobes over gowns, rollers in their hair, empty sleeves trailing behind them. Soon it veers stranger—performers stumble and dishevel themselves. Across the evening, 60 costumes designed by Harrell appear, mixing labels from Comme des Garçons to Walmart. Some performers wear shoes, some go barefoot, but every catwalk dazzles.

    The cast is large—17 dancers plus Harrell, all part of his Zürich Dance Ensemble—and they reappear in bold looks until one finally steps off the grid, a rupture that feels both wrong and exhilarating. Another hikes a skirt above the knees and kicks wildly. A sneakered group forms at one end, shifting arms fluidly as though warming up, or channeling birds, or conducting an unseen orchestra. A performer picks up a mic from the couch and declares, “Section 2, The Tale,” hinting at narrative (spoiler: it never fully arrives, perhaps intentionally).

    Much transpires in Monkey Off My Back or The Cat’s Meow. The five sections stretch nearly two hours without intermission. The perimeter-walking continues with such persistence that it becomes a heartbeat, only noticeable when it halts. At one point, a woman is carried to a couch and begins reading the Declaration of Independence aloud—radical in its delivery. At another, a man atop a couch performs a Butoh-inspired solo, his body twisting in slow contortions. Later, Harrell dances alone to Imani Uzuri’s “Love Story,” moving like someone tipsy and unguarded at home with a glass of wine. Costumes change relentlessly, poses strike with force and the soundtrack ranges wildly—from Earth, Wind & Fire to Laura Nyro to Steve Reich. Two performers roam in sparkly panda suits.

    A group of performers in varied costumes, including a man in a black dress and headscarf, extend their arms outward while dancing together on the stage.A group of performers in varied costumes, including a man in a black dress and headscarf, extend their arms outward while dancing together on the stage.
    Thibault Lac and company. Photo: Stephanie Berger

    There is too much to take in; you are always missing something. Afterward, walking downtown, I kept replaying how the acts of watching and being watched felt strangely new. Perhaps it was because the house lights stayed up until the final abstracted folk dance, letting performers gaze directly at the audience. Perhaps it was Harrell’s direction that exposed the human beneath the performance. Would I ever watch a passerby on the street with the same intensity as a dancer on stage? Not usually. At times, I even looked away when a performer neared. But why?

    I also thought about freedom. The freedom of expression here—in fashion, in movement—was striking. The performers inhabited the atmospheres of the New York ballroom scene, club culture, lonely apartments, even the subway at 4:00 a.m., each in their own register.

    In the program, Debra Levine writes that Harrell wanted to create a work without a preconceived theme. That choice explains the stream-of-consciousness feel and the lack of narrative arc, and I’m grateful for it. It allowed me to recognize my own desire for story, for the hidden props to be used, for a message to land. But that’s not how life works. Life is messy, and art can remind us not to look away.

    Monkey Off My Back or The Cat’s Meow is showing at the Park Avenue Armory’s Wade Thompson Drill Hall through September 20, 2025. 

    More in performing arts

    At the Park Avenue Armory, a Mondrian Becomes the Stage for Radical Expression

    [ad_2]

    Caedra Scott-Flaherty

    Source link

  • 18 songs for a laid-back smoke session this 4/20

    18 songs for a laid-back smoke session this 4/20

    [ad_1]

    Another 4/20 season has arrived. It seems fairly obvious what this “holiday” is about, but there’s something more still here…

    [ad_2]

    Chris Coplan

    Source link