Her face looks familiar to you. You can decipher her message. You may have even heard her name. But how many of you can honestly say you know who Rosie the Riveter was—or how she came to be? The answer may not be as simple as you think.
Her face looks familiar to you. You can decipher her message. You may have even heard her name. But how many of you can honestly say you know who Rosie the Riveter was—or how she came to be? The answer may not be as simple as you think.
As many of us continue to grapple with emotions as a result of the senseless death of George Floyd, who was murdered by former police officer Derek Chauvin on May 25, 2020, in Minneapolis, Minnesota, protests across the country—and around the world—continue to clog roadways with calls to end racism and police brutality. Standing in solidarity with these marchers, local artists from every corner of the globe are also taking their grief and anger to the streets—but in a different way.
The history of art features countless examples of painters, sculptors, and technicians, chronicling the minutiae of devastating periods in time, oftentimes using ebullient and joyful colors and materials to distract and entertain audiences. One guerrilla mosaic artist continues this tradition, and he brings his signature artistic style to the bumpy streets of Chicago.
In the last few months, countless people have lost their jobs, their livelihoods, their loved ones. The overall personal toll of the coronavirus is still too early to measure. Fortunately, one element of this global pandemic in which we are seeing a positive increase is the number of PPE (Personal Protective Equipment) available—especially in hotspots like New York City. This is partially due to the sheer stick-to-itiveness of, among other sources, creative minds, small businesses, and dedicated humans. And one such collaboration in particular.
Off the beaten path in a dusty town 25 miles east of Albuquerque, New Mexico, lies a roadside attraction that is as enchanting and wondrous as it is perplexing. Tinkertown Museum is a one-of-a-kind destination for all things whimsical—and its mythic appeal to locals and far-flung travelers for over 40 years might be what keeps it going.
Around the beginning of the last century—in 1906, to be exact—the 4’11” Ota Benga was featured in an infamous human exhibit at the Bronx Zoo’s Monkey House. Ota Benga, a Mbuti (Congolese pygmy) man from what was then known as the Congo Free State, stayed at the zoo for just a few months until the public outcry over his treatment at the zoo resulted in another home for him. However, Benga’s short life was marked with tragedy.
Deep in the heart of the West Texas desert, sitting conspicuously alongside a lonely and infrequently traveled highway is a Prada boutique. That’s right, a hyper-realistic art installation, built to replicate one of the luxury brand’s high concept stores, has stood in place, unstaffed and virtually inaccessible, for fifteen years. And despite the lack of transactional fashion available, the site remains a steady draw. So how exactly did this desert oasis come to be?
By 1973 billy barr was the only permanent resident of Gothic. A year into his stay in Gothic, barr started to document the weather, mainly as a way to pass the time. For more than 40 winters, he has kept meticulous notes on the behavior of the snow in the area. Twice a day, barr collects information on snowfalls, temperatures, and the animals which come in and out of his area of the Rockies.
If you are short on things to do during your period of quarantine, The Getty has a challenge for you. The Los Angeles Museum has been encouraging its isolated subscribers to take a break and recreate some of the classic works of art found in its online collection.
If you’re still picnicking the old fashioned way (flannel blanket, a bag of chips, and a lukewarm bottle of chardonnay), you are seriously missing out. Gone are the days of ants spoiling your fun. And forget about cramming store-bought snacks into that dusty wicker basket. Because one California-based company is doing for picnicking what glamping did for spending a night out in the woods.