Flash Art

Living in the United States in the spring of 2026 is akin to living in the center of a hurricane influenced by individual and societal forces that are much larger than any given cultural zeitgeist presentation can address. The 2026 Whitney Biennial, this time presented without a title, raises an old question with renewed urgency: What can a biennial meaningfully do in a time of profound social and political fracture? In New York, it has become common to criticize this Biennial; such criticism signals one's superior stance in aesthetics, political bipartisanship, and understanding of global politics. Within this context, what we see at the Whitney this year might be seen as an indulgent escapade into American isolationism, but this is not the case.

Originally published in Flash Art International no. 188, May–June 1995.

Originally published in Flash Art International no. 188, May–June 1995. Diller + Scofidio is a New York-based collaborative studio involved in cross-disciplinary work…

I first encountered Ian Waelder's work at Kestner Gesellschaft in Hannover, in “thereafter” (2025). What struck me was how insistently the works seemed to not want to be noticed.

As I arrive in Basel's old town, on my way to Maja Ruznic's solo exhibition “Who Tastes Fire and Cannot Speak” at Contemporary Fine Arts Gallery, I'm

As I arrive in Basel's old town, on my way to Maja Ruznic's solo exhibition “Who Tastes Fire and Cannot Speak” at Contemporary Fine Arts Gallery,…

You have not yet fully entered when the word "slag" finds you. The gallery is still opening itself, the walls still orienting you, and already the slur is in the room: a teenager's voic

I traveled to Glasgow to see an artwork I'd already spent years looking at: a 1991 self-portrait of David Wojnarowicz,…

I traveled to Glasgow to see an artwork I'd already spent years looking at: a 1991 self-portrait of David Wojnarowicz, face emerging from the earth, eyes closed, lips pursed over uneven teeth. It anchors a major retrospective at this year's Glasgow International, the Scottish art biennial that scatters contemporary art across the city. Far from the spectacle of the perennial fixtures on the art-world's calendar (no gondolas, no Björk), Glasgow International feels refreshingly unperformed. I had never visited Glasgow before. My introduction was a few days spent naively riding the Clockwork Orange, cursing no-show buses, and slowly learning the city through pilgrimages to its artistic happenings.

The foyer of the Museum of Recent Art in Bucharest immediately resists the conventions of the white cube. Black walls, upbeat dance music from the café, and a Mercedes sitting beneath a drape set the tone before the works even come into view. The museum spans a basement floor, currently dedicated to photographs by Constantin Brâncuși, and three upper levels presenting the last forty-five years of French artist Bernard Frize's paintings. Ranging from some of his earliest works from 1980 to the present, the exhibition offers a retrospective showcasing how a practice built on a set of rules and methodologies has continually redefined the relationship between painter, process, and material.