All in Reviews

Between Two Senses: Franz West's Invitation To Look And Touch

A retrospective of Austrian artist Franz West at the Centre Pompidou in Paris begins where most biographical tales perhaps should – with his mother, Emilie West. Born to a well-to-do Viennese Jewish family, she espoused communist ideals and the artist’s father, Ferdinand Zokan, a Serbian coal merchant. The family lived in a public housing complex, out of which Emilie ran a private dental practice. Her clients included many artists and poets, among them Reinhard Priessnitz, a poet and theorist who would give the name Paßstücke (Adaptives) to West’s most iconic series of sculptures. This early contact with Vienna’s artistic milieu would have a profound impact on the young West’s later career, as would the sounds of whirling drills and the image of his mother creating white and pink moulds of teeth from plaster and resin.

Más allá del muralismo

El arte mexicano de la primera mitad del siglo XX es un territorio ampliamente explorado, pero su historia ha permanecido durante mucho tiempo eclipsada detrás de cuatro figuras: los tres grandes del muralismo –Diego Rivera, David Alfaro Siqueiros y José Clemente Orozco– y, desde los años ochenta, Frida Kahlo. La exposición que se abrió en octubre en el Grand Palais en París, Mexique 1900-1950: Diego Rivera, Frida Kahlo, José Clemente Orozco et les avant-gardes, parece confirmar desde el título ese predominio. Aunque por un lado no se puede contar la historia del arte moderno en México sin apelar a algunos nombres demasiado conocidos, habría sido un error reducirlo a ellos. La muestra de París es un intento tímido pero necesario para ampliar esa mirada.

Apollinaire, the Immigrant Poet Who Shaped the Parisian Avant-Garde

PARIS — On September 7, 1911, French police arrested poet Guillame Apollinaire for stealing the Mona Lisa. Apollinaire hadn’t actually taken the iconic treasure; however, a few days prior to his arrest, he had attempted to anonymously return a pair of ancient Iberian busts stolen for him and Pablo Picasso by their associate, Géry Piéret. Picasso, who modeled the central figures of “Les Demoiselles d’Avignon” on the bust Piéret procured for him, was also brought in for questioning. Miraculously, neither the painter nor the poet was charged with receiving stolen goods. If they had been, their status as foreigners in the French Republic would most certainly have resulted in their deportation. Luckily, lack of evidence and pressure from the Parisian art and literary establishments forced the police to release Apollinaire six days later — thereby consigning the episode to one of the wilder footnotes of art history rather than to one of its major chapters.