Gabriel Almeida reviews Salman Toor's show "No Ordinary Love" at the Baltimore Museum of Art.

Kevin O’Rourke reviews the album Sons Of by Sam Prekop and John McEntire.

What is contra natura is the dysfunctional rapport that human beings seem to have developed with this cosmic ladder, and that may very well be the source of what’s abusive in the power – whether cosmic, natural, or human.

Is interactivity really the same freedom that art is supposed to help us access?

Charles Ray is unquestionably one of the most powerful and challenging sculptors alive. His recent works presented at the Met carry within them a subtle and expansive understanding of space, a boundless wit and delicacy, and a deep sense of history.

After Effect — James Turrell’s latest “Wedgework” (recently presented by Pace) — takes up this question of the imaginary dimensions of time and space and their relationship to perception, memory, and thought.

The potential of this kind of work lies in its ability to pervert reality. This is not to say distort reality, to make it into a “cruel illusion,” but transform it: to manipulate and reconfigure reality according to one’s impulses and for its own sake.

The two standpoints that Lin has employed in his work, detached nihilism and eclectic mysticism, have been hallmarks of various countercultural strands that, since the 19th century, have tried to deal with the death of God and the crisis of modernity.

There’s this TikTok trend my roommate told me about. You’re supposed to open the book on your nightstand to page 30 and read the first line. Apparently it describes your love life. Murder Suey is the book on my nightstand. In Murder Suey, page 30 is blank.

Jessa Crispin reflects on the 2021 Philadelphia Film Festival.

We seek to utilize the force of our creative ability to fashion a world of our own or thereby change that which is given.

It is full of work convinced that the world as we know it is doddering towards its end, but gives little consideration to the possibility that it is this old New Museum and old new media art, not the world around it, that has run its course.

JC Holburn reviews Paul Schrader’s film The Card Counter

If society no longer reliably yields a consistent aesthetic framework, and if even the immediate sensations of our own minds can no longer be trusted, how can we hope to reach the inner truth of an artwork?

maybe, as the world collapses around us, we are haunted by an unconscious sense that maybe we have too much, maybe we are taking up too much space, maybe we are mostly takers and the only thing we really contribute is an endless stream of microplastics into our waterways.

It took the formula of one species of conceptualism to capture the swan song of another.

They’re explicit pictures, and in a world so entirely scrubbed clean of transgression, any sense of naughtiness is its own form of pleasure. Dainty feet and hands poke out in flirty little kicks, one appendage in front of the trompe l'œil frame, the other receding behind. The effect is not unlike a peep show.

We are often so resistant to directors taking the wheel, balking at the faintest hint of directorial domination over the audience — in this case, the director’s use of our bodies against us, manipulating us into identifying with someone whom our moral code rejects.

It’s not true that the world is ending — if anything, it already has. And yet life continues, alive in its death. These thoughts — speculations — give a perfunctory account of the work of the late painter and poet Manoucher Yektai, a member of the New York School whose first solo show in the city since 1984 opened at Karma two weeks ago.

It was a time of mass shootings, Paris Hilton, boys playing games that looked like war on their consoles and soldiers waging war that looked like video games from drone centers.