WHEN I ARRIVE at the 1907 Beaux Arts office building a few blocks south of the World Trade Center, a guard in the slickly renovated lobby of 101 Greenwich swipes me through the security turnstiles to an elevator that takes me to the 19th floor.
The doors open to a sunny, 18,000-square-foot raw office space, cords dangling from the ceiling, with a wall of windows overlooking the Trinity Church spire and various skyscrapers. Not so long ago, this floor was home to Daniel Libeskind's architecture practice, but now, like a number of other floors in this building and many more throughout the post-pandemic city, it sits empty.
This desolation seems to delight the artist Christopher Wool, who has rented the space to put on a show of his recent paintings and sculptures. "Nothing could be better," he says, pointing to a crumbling pink column with globs of construction adhesive stuck to it. Chunks of stone are missing from the floor. On another column across the room, someone had crudely spray-painted a penis. “I could live here,” he says.
Wool is there finalizing the installation for the show’s March 14 opening. He has chunky black glasses and a white ponytail that mark him still as the trailblazing 1980s and ’90s artist he was, hanging out at the Mudd Club, partying with Nan Goldin, and admiring Jean-Michel Basquiat’s graffiti, Richard Hell’s punk poetry, and Jamie Nares’s Super 8 films. His austere paintrollered, stenciled, and screen-printed canvases in many ways reflect the seedy, anti-Establishment New York he was then working in and inspired by.
Denne historien er fra February 26 - March 10, 2024-utgaven av New York magazine.
Start din 7-dagers gratis prøveperiode på Magzter GOLD for å få tilgang til tusenvis av utvalgte premiumhistorier og 9000+ magasiner og aviser.
Allerede abonnent ? Logg på
Denne historien er fra February 26 - March 10, 2024-utgaven av New York magazine.
Start din 7-dagers gratis prøveperiode på Magzter GOLD for å få tilgang til tusenvis av utvalgte premiumhistorier og 9000+ magasiner og aviser.
Allerede abonnent? Logg på
Trapped in Time
A woman relives the same day in a stunning Danish novel.
Polyphonic City
A SOFT, SHIMMERING beauty permeates the images of Mumbai that open Payal Kapadia's All We Imagine As Light. For all the nighttime bustle on display-the heave of people, the constant activity and chaos-Kapadia shoots with a flair for the illusory.
Lear at the Fountain of Youth
Kenneth Branagh's production is nipped, tucked, and facile.
A Belfast Lad Goes Home
After playing some iconic Americans, Anthony Boyle is a beloved IRA commander in a riveting new series about the Troubles.
The Pluck of the Irish
Artists from the Indiana-size island continue to dominate popular culture. Online, they've gained a rep as the \"good Europeans.\"
Houston's on Houston
The Corner Store is like an upscale chain for downtown scene-chasers.
A Brownstone That's Pink Inside
Artist Vivian Reiss's Murray Hill house of whimsy.
These Jeans Made Me Gay
The Citizens of Humanity Horseshoe pants complete my queer style.
Manic, STONED, Throttle, No Brakes
Less than six months after her Gagosian sölu show, the artist JAMIAN JULIANO-VILLAND lost her gallery and all her money and was preparing for an exhibition with two the biggest living American artists.
WHO EVER THOUGHT THAT BRIGHT PINK MEAT THAT LASTS FOR WEEKS WAS A GOOD IDEA?
Deli Meat Is Rotten