The Brucennial Frieze New York Stanley WhitneyTeam Gallery Owen GrayBlue Mountain Gallery Jeff WallMarian Goodman IN RECENT MONTHS, people who are avidly engaged with contemporary art have been checking their pulses so often that I can only conclude they are worried about their vital signs, not to mention the health of the galleries, museums, auction houses, art fairs, and sundry publications that help to sustain them. These health checks have become global in nature, with frenzied reports arriving from galleries in Beijing, auctions in Hong Kong, an art fair in Abu Dhabi.
Leo and His Circle: The Life of Leo Castelli By Annie Cohen-Solal (Alfred A. Knopf, 540 pp., $35) I. Annie Cohen-Solal’s new biography of Leo Castelli, the art dealer who will forever be associated with the meteoric rise of Jasper Johns and Robert Rauschenberg in the years around 1960, has set me to thinking about the interest that men and women who run galleries inspire among a fairly wide public.
I. “TRASH” ACCORDING TO Sabine Folie, chief curator at the Kunsthalle in Vienna, “has become a transc end ental necessity.” Folie, about whom I know nothing other than her absolutely perfect name, is writing in the catalogue of “‘Dear Painter, Paint me...,’” an exhibition that recently toured Europe and included work by John Currin, the fly speck of a painter who has been stuck in many a New Yorker’s eye since his mid-career retrospective opened at the Whitney Museum in November.