The Art Angle

This is a re-air of my interview with the artist Arthur Jafa. It came out earlier in the year, but with his much-anticipated career retrospective, Arthur Jafa, I Am Tony, now about to open at the New Museum in New York. It's very much worth another listen.

Jafa is probably the most revered artist of the last decade. Born in 1960, in Tupelo, Mississippi, he came up through the world of cinema. But Jafa also found his way into the art world with his difficult video work and strange objects. In art, his reputation went vertical in 2016 with the video, Love Is the Message, the Message Is Death. It is a collage of found footage from social media that included police violence against Black people and also moments of viral celebration and joy. It was both experimental and accessible, and drew huge crowds when it was first shown at Gavin Brown’s Enterprise in New York.

A follow-up film, called The White Album, won the Golden Lion for Best Artist as part of the main show of the Venice Biennale back in 2019. And this month, Jafa is back in Venice, this time in a two-person show called “Helter Skelter,” curated by Nancy Spector, pairing him with the famous artist Richard Prince, also known for using found and appropriated imagery to disorienting effect. That show opened alongside the Venice Biennale at the Prada Foundation, and was one of the few things during the opening weekend that everyone could agree was a must-see event.

Jafa has also curated a show currently on view at the Museum of Modern Art, called “Less Is Morbid,” a deliberately packed display of his favorite art. He is also one of the winners of this year’s Art Basel Award, to be honored at that fair. In the middle of all this intense activity, Jafa sat down with Ben Davis to discuss his art, his view of art history, and what comes next.

The humble wall label at an art exhibition has a funny status. It feels, on the one hand, like a side note or an afterthought. On the other, it is a first point of contact and literal guide for a visitor looking to know more.

There is an entire undersung discipline, Visitor Studies, which has put a lot of time into thinking about how museums communicate. And yet, even so, some of the most prestigious exhibitions in the world are crawling with texts that I can barely understand. As a matter of fact, I’ve griped so much about bad text at art biennials and shows that I try not to do it anymore, just to avoid repeating myself. But recently, I decided I would get it out of my system for good and be constructive and write an essay about where I think these texts go wrong and what I think works.

Katherine Whitney thinks about museum texts professionally, she has worked with a number of museums and with Beverly Serrell on the 2024 edition of Serrell’s Exhibit Labels: An Interpretive Approach, a standard resource on this subject.

So, let’s talk about texts. This is a nerdy topic, maybe, but it’s also an essential topic, one that helps clear your mind about what you want from a museum in the first place. Unlike a lot of problems facing art right now, the problem of bad texts is one that can be fixed.

The ancient Romans called the Mediterranean mare nostrum, "our sea." But before the Romans rose to power, the Etruscans had extensive trade networks in the area and controlled much of the Italian peninsula, the future heart of the Roman Empire. Between around 900 B.C.E. and the first century B.C.E., the Etruscans lived in city-states, developing beguiling artworks and making technological advances that are the subject of an astonishing show at the Legion of Honor in San Francisco.

"The Etruscans: From the Heart of Ancient Italy," which runs through September 20, tells the story of people who were deeply religious, alive to life's great pleasures, and in dialogue with societies in distant lands. There are remarkable loans from more than two dozen institutions, including treasures that have never before been allowed to travel. Renée Dreyfus, the curator in charge of ancient art at the Fine Arts Museums of San Francisco, organized this tour de force and joined Andrew Russeth on The Art Angle to discuss it.

Artists and creatives have been fascinated with tarot for over 600 years. Recently, that fascination has resurfaced in a big way, showing up everywhere from museum walls to fashion runways.

That's not surprising. As a sweeping universal narrative language small enough to fit in your pocket, tarot's archetypal imagery is built for rediscovery and reinterpretation. Once a medieval royal court game, tarot drifted into the realms of the occult, especially in the 18th and 19th centuries. In the 21st, it's entered the pop culture zeitgeist—accessible, affordable, and able to offer insight into the present, past, and future, but most importantly, yourself.

Artists have long mined the cards for spiritual and creative inspiration, contributing to their enduring relevance. Pamela Colman Smith designed the deck that's still the industry standard, back in 1909, though her name was buried for decades under the man who commissioned it. Leonora Carrington painted a hauntingly surreal Major Arcana in 1955. Salvador Dalí spent decades on his own gilded, cinematic deck, finishing it in the 1970s. Now, dozens of artists and designers are dabbling with imagery that fuses art history, numerology, astrology, and psychology with color, gesture, and form.

That's the real magic of tarot: The plurality of meaning and the staying power of images.

A major show at the Morgan Library and Museum in New York explores the history of and our enduring fascination with the cards. Annikka Olsen, Artnet's Galleries Editor, recently covered the exhibition and she joins Margaret Carrigan, Artnet's News Editor, on this episdoe to talk tarot, in all its many guises.

Julio Torres and Martine Gutierrez share a knack for building worlds and characters that operate on their own wonderful, absurdist logic. Throw them together, add some sea water, and you get Marina, their new performance commissioned by the Whitney Biennial.

Marina begins with a construction worker tossing a smartphone into the ocean and ends with a sea wench possibly discovering the internet. It’s like the Little Mermaid, but filtered through the flights of imagination that Torres and Gutierrez have become known for.

Torres first came to prominence as a writer for Saturday Night Live, but has since carved out one of the most distinctive creative paths around. He created the TV shows Los Espookys and Fantasmas, and made his feature debut with Problemista, starring Tilda Swinton. His comedy specials, My Favorite Shapes and Color Theories, are less stand-up than windows into the idiosyncratic way he sees the world.

Gutierrez, meanwhile, has spent her career transforming identity into an expansive artistic practice. In her series like ANTI-ICON and Supremacy, she uses performance, photography, and self-portraiture to inhabit a range of personas—from Aphrodite to Lady Godiva. It is work that challenges conventional ideas of femininity while celebrating reinvention and fluidity.

Marina won’t be the first time that Torres and Gutierrez are collaborating. Gutierrez has appeared in both Los Espookys and Fantasmas, where she played the mysterious Vanesja. The pair also share a rapport that is immediate, playful, and unpredictable, as you’ll hear in our conversation.

Here they are, talking about Marina, first meetings, fictional personas, and for reasons that will soon become clear, the first half of Speed.