Word: studioful
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Dates: during 1990-1999
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Only MOMA's resources -- its own collection, Elderfield's connoisseurship and the accumulated borrowing power that is the peaceable blackmail of the museum world -- could have produced this show. Its essential component, never seen in such depth outside Russia before, is the paintings bought from Matisse's studio 80 years ago by those two inspired and obsessed collectors, Ivan Morosov and Sergei Shchukin, now divided between the Hermitage in St. Petersburg and the Pushkin Museum of Fine Arts in Moscow...
...LOCAL AUTHORITIES ARE HIDING IN THE CELLAR WITH A JUG -- because Whoopi, dreadlocks, attitude and all, is branching out. Quick, what does the worldy night and twice on Saturday. The negatives, as they say in politics, are encouraging: no monologue, no band to tootle when inspiration flags, no giggling studio audience to which the camera can pan, and no Dan Quayle jokes unless Quayle himself makes them...
...partly vanishing, ambiguous figures in his own paintings. Apart from a short stay in Paris (1927-30), Magritte spent his whole adult life in Brussels, issuing his mind-wrenching visual conundrums from a base of the most perfect bourgeois propriety, using a corner of his living room for a studio and never painting any naked woman but his wife Georgette, who, in return, never posed for any other artist. The common man in Magritte's paintings, with his raincoat and bowler, whether standing with an apple in front of his face or floating down in multitudes upon the unperturbed streets...
Thank heaven all the characters in this cheerless book have enough money so that they can skip from London to country and from town house to studio when the need arises, as it so often does. Their conversation is spare and broody and liberally sprinkled with dots: "I lack the . . . the stamina . . . yes." Along the way the cliches mount, crowned by the blatant use of children's deaths to prod the action toward some kind of climax; otherwise Sin would be a serial. Here's hoping the other six vices are not on Hart's agenda...
...shows this month in New York City -- a small survey at the Studio Museum in Harlem and a larger one organized by the National Museum of American Art in Washington and now at the Whitney Museum of American Art -- are dedicated to the almost forgotten artist William H. Johnson (1901-70). As a fine catalog by Richard Powell makes clear, Johnson's life was one of the saddest in the annals of American art. A painter of genuine talent, he suffered most of his life from the consequences of being born black in a deeply racist America -- and, it seems...