The writing produces a persona of Bacon through an illustration of several platforms; biography, visual narratives, and connections between artists both of his time and past. There is a particular interest in his romantic relationships, first his patron and lover Eric Hall and later the “former” boxer George Dyer. The book offers a chronological breakdown of his life and work and is a straightforward snapshot of who he was.

The book expounds on Bacon’s interest in the human figure by addressing the fleshy forms he often conjured in his works, and draws a line between the personalities in his life and how they informed his interest in the body. His paintings carry distorted, refracted, and destructive qualities that seem to be a direct influence of war and the disappearance of bodies–the deaths of his lovers. He often worked from photographs, preferring a stagnant model. Form, figure, and movement come together in his work to explore his propensity for “exhilarated despair.”

Having not previously studied Bacon extensively, I walked away from the book knowing more about his social life and methodologies for art making. The book knows itself to be an “indispensible introduction” but that is an embellishment of its lightweight exploration. The book offers a casual glance into the messy studio and complicated heart he worked in. At the end I felt hungry for more. And so the book is true to its mission, as a thoughtful introduction.

Reviewed by Christopher Golden

The post Exhilarated Despair: Phaidon Focus on Francis Bacon appeared first on NY Arts Magazine.

The series begins with a photograph of Talbot’s epitaph followed by images of the cemetery where it resides. Upfront, Gershuni presents his inspiration before allowing the viewer to indulge in his interpretation. The air of a forgotten place and era grows stronger through each image. The village where Lacock Abbey is located appears desolate and frozen in time and the same feels true for the surrounding property and the abby interior. However, interspersed between the quiet and still images of the Abbey, Gershuni interjects portraits of a modern day man named Bambi. His presence throughout the series showcases Gershuni’s ability with the portrait, but still elicits the same feeling of a solitary existence. The New World collides with the Old World as Gershuni’s portraits punctuate the series of still-life and architectural photographs. Bambi acts as the life force moving through the series of ghostly images, weaving Gershuni’s exploration into a narrative. At the end of Yesterday’s Sun we are brought back to the cemetery, reminding us that the journey we just took began and ended with something that has already left this world.

Review by Caitlin Díaz

sternthalbooks.com

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Interspersed with the photographed adages are other elements of the Happy Show, an exhibit organized by Sagmeister and Claudia Gould for the Institute of Contemporary Art in Pennsylvania. Visual statistics related to happiness, anecdotes from Sagmeister’s own life story, and his inspirations for making the exhibit, (and ultimately the film) tie the photographic typography series presented in the book with supporting dialogue. The Happy Film, a book intended to pitch Sagmeister’s unmade documentary, becomes more than a mode of self-promotion. In advertising itself, this little book not only hints at what is (hopefully) to come from Sagmeister and his team, but supplies a dose of wisdom and thoughtful pleasure to its readers.

By Gabrielle Jensen

The post Stefan Sagmeister’s The Happy Film Book appeared first on NY Arts Magazine.