Discover MFA Programs in Art and Writing
2 Tables in My Kitchen, 2014, ballpoint pen and ink on paper, 92 × 53 inches. Images courtesy of the artist and Pierogi Gallery.
Jessica Bourne’s Bedroom (“East Side, West Side,” 1949), 2012, sumi ink on paper, 62 × 289 inches. Photos by Paul Latislaw.
Dawn Clements (1958–2018) was an artist based in Brooklyn. Her paintings and drawings captured her immediate surroundings as well as architectural interiors from films. She created fragmented narratives and panoramic tableaus by gluing together multiple paper panels. In the artist’s words: “I explore intersections where the objective and subjective, truth and fiction, rational and emotive meet. In some works, I paint/draw a continuous space that passes from inside the studio and out into the landscape. Playing with processes involving interruption, cuts, skips, and extensions, I work to see how static images might express time passage through gradual and abrupt shifts in perspective, light, palette, mark, and gesture.” (2017)
The paintings in HumidGray and ShadowLake evoke synesthetic colors, remembered landscapes, and the physical performance inherent in marking a canvas.
An embarrassing incident at the Kremlin (from 2015? was it 2016?): in which women invited to an International Woman’s Day photo with Mr. Vladimir Putin arrive in high heels, much to the fear of Mr. Putin’s staff who are there to witness several tall women towering over the Russian Federation president.
These drawings are from a series of 210 on view at the Graham Foundation in Chicago as part of Torkwase Dyson and the Wynter-Wells School through July 28, 2018.
Originally published in
Featuring interviews with Young Joon Kwak, Kazuo Hara, Bill Jenkins, Ligia Lewis, William Basinski, Titus Kaphar, José Roberto Cea, and Barry Lopez.
How do I build a fugitive choreography, one that’s always in the process of escaping itself, then coming back to reaffirm itself, only to slide away again? The act of interpreting a choreography is made live by the performers, which is the invitation in my work.
Ligia Lewis
