Sabahs are made entirely by hand from 100% leather in either Texas or Turkey—two regions with distinct yet deeply rooted relationships to the material. The result is a shoe that varies subtly from pair to pair, even within the same size.
The curators of Greater New York really captured the energy of the city well - not the out-of-towner's New York with its glossy surfaces, brands, and trendy fare, but the gritty New York that's always in the process of formation, that rejects surface in favor of rawness.
The exhibit reflects the energy and evolution of the city's artistic scene across generations. Art is central to the experience of cultural immersion we offer at The Peninsula, and this exhibition invites guests and local residents to alike to participate in this distinctive aspect of our city's character.
I see myself first and foremost as a weaver working at the intersection of craft and technology. As an Angeleno, I grew up learning how to weave in the Wixárika tradition of my matriarchal bloodline by watching my mother and my grandmother.
Much of Instagram's video content is organized around transformation-the virtual magic of the before-and-after and clips that show cause and effect. A person makes pasta from scratch in 20 seconds via edits that compress time-intensive labor.
Of Lithuanian-Russian heritage, Panova's work is informed by that layered cultural inheritance as growing up between cultures has shaped her sensitivity to shifting narratives. Her work explores folklore, quiet, and images that feel suspended between past and present.
In the midst of the fabulous The Winter Show last weekwhere connoisseurship, collecting, and cultivated taste converge under one vaulted roofthere was a moment of pause, exhale, and recalibration at the heart of the fair: the VIP Collectors Lounge. This year, not as sponsorship, but as philosophy made spatial. It was titled The Modern Salon. Conceived and designed by frenchCALIFORNIA, The Modern Salon rejected the trade-fair instinct toward visual noise and brand fragmentation.
The new New Museum is many things: contemporary, perhaps, but also a science, history, anthropology, and many other museums in one. It echoes the desire of its patron class to own the world and its affiliated courtier class to deliver it to them on a silver platter, or encased in perforated metal, in this case.
On Franklin Street in Brooklyn's Greenpoint neighborhood, one non-commercial gallery fosters 'a small, stubbornly human space for friction.' Friction—the ubiquitous buzzword that captures the simultaneous delight and discomfort of doing things the slow way—is at the heart of artists Pap Souleye Fall and Char Jeré's current show at Subtitled NYC. It also reflects the overall spirit of this little exhibition space and of a burgeoning movement to reject our culture of optimization in favor of a bumpier, more intimate, less alienating experience.
I work outside, carving and shaping the stone. Outside my house, I have a table, an extension cord, and tools. It's very cold and I have to wear all my winter clothes. When it's too cold, I do the filing and finishing work inside after I shape it outside. I listen to all kinds of music. I listen to Eminem all the time; his albums are all my favorites. For drawings, I work at Kinngait Studios or at home on my kitchen table.
Sprouting from the roof of the San Francisco Museum of Modern Art, artist Rose B. Simpson's newly installed bronze sculpture "Behold" has its gaze fixed on the cityscape before it. The Tewa of Khaʼpʼoe Ówîngeh artist, herself a mother, crafted a tender portrait of an interconnected parent and child that "asks us to be human with each other, to change our narrative through wonder, witness and a foundation in the soft warmth of our humanity," she said in a statement.
In 2024, I made a vow to never base my art criticism on wall labels. My decision came after reading reactions to that year's Whitney Biennial. "If every label in 'Even Better Than the Real Thing,' the 81st installment of the Whitney Biennial, were peeled off the walls and tossed into the Hudson, what would happen?" asked Jackson Arn in the New Yorker. (He went on to suggest that the overall show would have been much better.)