Arts and Culture

Arie Amaya-Akkermans

“Of all the specific liberties which might come into our minds when we hear the word ‘freedom’, freedom of movement is historically the oldest and also the most elementary. Being able to depart for where we will is the prototypal gesture of being free, as limitation of freedom of movement has from time immemorial been the precondition for enslavement.”Hannah Arendt

Arie Amaya-Akkermans

Installation views: Joana Kohen. "Untitled I" & "Untitled 2", polyester and stitch on hand-made cotton paper, 86X91 e/o (2014); "A Robber Who Broke Into Hair Salon Is Beaten By Its Female Owner And Kept As A Sex Slave For Three Days He Was Fed Nothing But Viagra", 83.5X159X2 (2014).

Arie Amaya-Akkermans

[Husain Tarabie]

Arie Amaya-Akkermans

[Kamrooz Aram at Green Art] 

Shaun Randol

During the 1920s and 1930s, Stefan Zweig was the most widely read and translated writer in the world. More than that, he was a facilitator, connecting a veritable who's who of high culture in Vienna and Europe at large. A fierce advocate of individual expression and humanism, Zweig was a cultural force. And yet, he surrendered to the disconnectedness brought on by forced exile, committing suicide alongside his second wife. What can we learn from his rise and fall?

Yvette Granata

Arie Amaya-Akkermans

["Hacienda", oil on canvas, 180x200cm, 2013]

Giacomo Boitani

La Grande Bellezza

Italy (2013)

directed by Paolo Sorrentino


“Money is everywhere, but so is poetry. What we lack are the poets.” – Federico Fellini


Eric Anthamatten

In Samuel Beckett's classic play "Waiting for Godot," two characters, Vladimir and Estragon, wait ... and wait ... for the arrival of a fellow named Godot. The play is bare, minimalist, even absurd. There is but one scene (a country road and a tree) and just a few characters. While waiting in vain for the arrival of another someone, the two main characters find in each other something profound and elemental. Eric Anthamatten explains. 

Shaun Randol

It took him fifty years, but he finally did it. Arthur C. Danto's experience with Andy Warhol's "Brillo Box" (1964), coupled with his understanding of Marcel Duchamp's "Fountain" (1917), convinced him that there must be something intrinsic about that thing we call "art" that transcends genre, context, and history. At the end of his life, Danto published his findings in What Art Is. Shaun Randol has this review.