“I take myself, my drawings, and this little bundle of creative forces that is me, and I try to make a chemical reaction with the world.”—Swoon
To witness the vulgar, Zap Comix–inspired panorama in Manuel DeLanda’s 1979 film ISM ISM—its blubbering testicle-breasts and segmented-plumber’s-pipe phallus scrawled in marker on the tiled walls of a Manhattan subway station, just to start—is to share in the brief, bewildering encounter a commuter may have had with street art before the soap and cleaning brushes arrived.
“We never thought, ‘We have to give them dignity.’ We thought we have to give them empathy.”
Patti Astor talks about her new book and her role in the New York art scene of the 1980s.
Eskor Johnson spends a day in the life of The Love Child.
Street Artist Raquel Sakristan on Dark Energy, defining consciousness, and not being afraid to disappear.
Coco has a career that spans over 40 years, first as a 15-year-old “writer” on subway cars and later evolving into a studio artist employing stretched canvas. He is represented in Down by Law at Eric Firestone Gallery with three paintings selected from three different periods of his career. Each canvas has as its singular theme, various mutations of his tag, “coco.”
What does it mean to paint your name someplace you’ve been—a heavily trafficked location or a highly visible object, like a train, that perpetually traverses an entire city?
Kelly Devine Thomas on the stranger sides of Google, and the unlikely combination of Bernie Madoff and Mark Kostabi.
“That’s an exciting aspect of exhibiting work for me—it’s not the audience we know, it’s the audience we don’t know.” Rachel Harrison
Carlos says he hates biographical details.
“What has held my interest in performance art for over twenty years is not simply marveling at the weird things artists think up to do, but attempting to understand the motivation for these works of art.”
Watercolors Street Portraits; Blood Sisters; Schnookems, NYC; and Herb, NYC by Rachael Romero.