Cakehounds

Known for his outspokenness and dandyish attire, Markus Lüpertz is a member in good standing of the Neo-Expressionist movement that emerged in Germany during the mid-postwar era. Still, while he has exhibited here frequently, he’s not as well known on this side of the Atlantic as his contemporaries Georg Baselitz and Anselm Kiefer. Now 76, Lüpertz gained notoriety for a series of canvases that delved into Germany’s Nazi past, with images of helmets and officers’ uniforms. But he’s also had a long-held fascination for mythological and pastoral themes from classical antiquity, an interest indulged in this show of new paintings. On view are scenes of nudes, male and female, posing within unspoiled settings of trees, fields and streams. In a couple of cases, the subjects are obtrusively crowded by blown-up platters of grapes or intruded upon by colossal sculptural heads. Elsewhere, horse bodies couple with figures to form centaurs. All of these subjects are painted in a moody palette of earth colors applied with broad, rough strokes; in one piece, for instance, a bluish-hued rendition of Narcissus is laid over a schematic sketch of a skeleton. For all its rugged texture, Lüpertz’s work put me in mind of Nicolas Poussin’s finely grained 1637–38 masterpiece, Et in Arcadia ego. In it, shepherds pause in a sylvan grove to inspect the titular inscription on a stone block, a phrase that translates into, “Even in Arcadia, there am I.” The “I” is generally interpreted to mean Death, who

Armory Week’s namesake event started life in 1995 as a funky gathering of young downtown dealers at the Gramercy Park Hotel, and has since grown into one of the art world’s biggest events. Previous Armory Shows have featured separate fairs-within-the-fair devoted to 20th-century modern and contemporary art, respectively, but this year, the two are combined into one event showcasing more than 200 galleries from 30 countries, as well as talks, programs, performances and commissioned artworks.

SCOPE was the first fair to run concurrently with The Armory Show (in 2000), so in a sense, you can thank it for starting the whole Armory Week business. SCOPE features emerging artists and a “Breeder Program” which invites brand-new galleries to make their art-fair debut.

The Art Dealers Association of America has been in business since 1962, making this fair the longest-running one in the United States. Naturally, it attracts only the highest-profile galleries from around the country, most of them featuring solo exhibits of the biggest names in modern, postwar and contemporary art.

Established in 2005 in Basel, Switzerland, Volta NY bills itself as the fair “by galleries, for galleries” and focuses exclusively on solo artist presentations. Unlike typical trade shows, projects are mounted in a way that make you feel like you’re conducting a studio visit—just like a dealer or collector would. This year’s edition brings together 96 exhibitors from 43 cities across five continents.

Kick off Armory Week in style at the Museum of Modern Art’s annual fete celebrating the opening of the Armory show. Sure, it’s expensive, but where else can you find a chance to rub elbows with so many artists, curators, collectors and other art-world habitués? Another bonus: live performances and dj sets.

The cavernous, darkened venue for this fair is well suited to its program of video installations and single channel presentations mounted by a lively mix of commercial and non-profit galleries. You can also immerse yourself in media projects featuring the latest in augmented and virtual reality technologies.

Considered the hippest offering of Armory Week, Independent New York’s annual show features 50 galleries and non-profits from 20 cities worldwide, as well several solo and site-specific projects. Much of the local fare comes from Lower East Side galleries, so you know we’re talking cool, cutting-edge cred here.

The certified, pre-owned luxury car of museums, the Met Breuer opened March 18 for an eight-year stay in the Whitney’s old Madison Avenue home, while demolition at the Lila Acheson Wallace Wing on Fifth Avenue gets underway to make room for expanded modern and contemporary galleries. That’s the what, where and when of the situation; the why remains more elusive. Yes, the Met Breuer represents a play for contemporary art relevance, but the main inaugural offering—a disappointing roundup of five centuries’ worth of paintings and sculptures contemplating the question, When is an artwork complete?—makes you wonder if that’s reason enough. In truth, the Whitney turned Met responds to several developments over the past decade or so that have apparently goaded its parent institution into focusing more on recent art as not only a good idea but necessary for long-term viability. First, countries such as Egypt, Greece and Italy began to curtail the flow of antiquities to overseas collections like the Met’s in the name of preserving their cultural patrimonies. Aggressive expansion, meanwhile, put MoMA head-to-head with the Met for the role of Most Important Museum and the tourist dollars that follow. Finally, when London’s equally august Tate Gallery opened Tate Modern in 2000, the Met likely took notice of the crowds flocking in. Not coincidentally, Sheena Wagstaff, Tate Modern’s former chief curator, is now programming the Met Breuer. Pressed to explain how she’d distinguish its appro

Michael Krebber is yet another German painter working within the medium while professing skepticism about its efficacy as a contemporary art form. While hardly confined to Germany, this attitude is particularly understandable in a country where high culture was once weaponized in the service of barbarism. In this show, Krebber’s own approach to this paradoxical legacy is to offer barely-there canvases that leave a lot to think about, or not much to look at, depending on your point of view. Rendered against stark-white backgrounds, Krebber’s abortive abstract flourishes and doodle-like images of fish and snails are delivered with wholehearted commitment even as they appear to have been halfheartedly left unfinished by an artist with more pressing matters on his mind. Some paintings are covered by halftone dots—a nod, perhaps, to Sigmar Polke’s use of the same or to Walter Benjamin’s contention that the mass reproduction of artworks robs them of their power to awe and inspire. Krebber’s paintings do neither, but they do dare you to take them seriously, which might be saying something after all.

Complicated isn’t the same as profound, though it’s often confused as such by art-world gatekeepers, which may explain how Camille Henrot won the Silver Lion at the 2013 Venice Biennale. Her work, which encompasses video, drawing and sculpture, has lots of moving parts. Visually, Henrot finds refinement in chaos while adopting a posture of detached absurdism—understandable, perhaps, for a French artist. Her art compresses the human condition into a taxonomy of hierarchical and behavioral tics. Presented are watercolors and wall-mounted plastic telephonic devices colored in pastels. The latter resemble a cross between a Fisher-Price toy and that phone you use when stuck in an elevator. A lift of the receiver and a punch of the keypad starts hotline-style messages that offer random bits of advice about all manner of things, including just how annoying hotlines can be. Henrot’s watercolors, meanwhile, depict a bestiary of human-animal hybrids fornicating and devouring what appear to be loved ones. What does any of this mean? It’s hard to say since Henrot’s answer is simply a shrug that implies, Well, it’s complicated.

Can abstraction be social? The question arises while pondering Mark Bradford’s latest show. Though it includes videos and sculpture, the focus is on towering paintings distinguished as, yes, “social abstractions,” meaning related to growing up gay and African-American in a tough L.A. neighborhood. In keeping with the conventions of identity politics, Bradford reifies his background into art. And sure, in a white supremacist society that views black people as objects in one form or the next, it makes sense. Hence the social claim, one staked on material expression. One of Bradford’s techniques is to appropriate posters from his neighborhood, which he boils down to pigmented soup to create allover compositions. Inspired by the postwar French affichistes, they look like aerial maps—a wide-angle view, presumably, of black experience lived within a topography of discrimination. Which is fine, though it’s unclear that Bradford succeeds as intended. The videos, especially one recalling his club-going youth, make a stronger case for his ideas, probably because the medium is inherently narrative. Bradford attempts storytelling, but to the extent that his paintings are meant to bear witness to the particulars, they’re too aestheticized to be anything but mute.

Half Islington, half Hackney, Newington Green is so much more than a roundabout with some green in the middle. Here are seven things you'll only know about if you live in the area.   1. It's got probably the best greengrocer in the world (or at least London)   The best greengrocer in London!!!!#newingtongreen A photo posted by Sheila bryant (@sheilaannbryant) on Jun 26, 2016 at 4:24am PDT With the best selection of exotic fruits you've never heard of, top organic produce and the scent of fresh herbs wafting through it, Newington Green Fruit and Vegetables has made the area famous for all the right reasons. If you're strapped for cash there is also a super-cheap fruit stall where any bowl of fruit or veg is just £1. Either of these options beat going to the local Tesco Express. But be warned, it's always too full. Prepare for a long queue and get those elbows ready. 2. It's got more parklife than a Blur gig   Yes...! Op koffietentjesontdekkingstocht in Londen. Het is hier echt een koffietentjeshemel. Overal leuke tentjes! Zoals dit schattige plekje in een klein parkje met heerlijke koffie. Oh my... A photo posted by Koffietentjesliefde (@koffietentjesliefde) on Jun 24, 2016 at 3:20am PDT Not only is heavyweight Clissold Park – with its zoo, tennis courts and outdoor swimming pool – just a ten-minute walk away, the small green within the roundabout, aka Newington Green, packs a mean park punch for its size. The cafe Lizzie's on the Green serves good coffee, tasty

Tucked away in Zone 4 of North-West London (aka North Wheezy to many of its residents), Wembley is commonly known for its stadium, arena and hosting the X-Factor auditions. But if you grew up in this unique corner of London, you might be able to relate to the following: 1. Diversity is a given Multiculturalism is your default. From Diwali celebrations on Ealing Road to Irish pubs on the high street and the Somali community in the square, the ethnic make-up may have evolved, but Wembley has been diverse for a long time. The London borough Brent, home to Wembley, was the first local authority in the UK to have a majority black, Asian and minority ethnic population.   A photo posted by Karolin (@klingklung) on Apr 26, 2016 at 4:28am PDT   2. You're used to event days You grew up in shadow of Wembley Stadium and Arena. Every other weekend you'd hear the concerts from your garden or get stuck in traffic after a big match. You got to know which pubs would be reserved for which football fans and in later years perhaps made a quick buck renting out your driveway. 3. It was all about the 182 That bus could take you to Harrow shopping centre or Brent Cross shopping centre in one go. What was cooler than hanging around a shopping centre or bus station instead of going home after school? Literally nothing. 4. The free bus You remember the 18 when it was bendy and you could just jump on. Some of you would even sit on it and shout, 'I'm on the free bus!' down your mobile phone. Tut

Happy St Patrick’s Day! The time has come to celebrate Irishness in all its glory. If you were lucky enough to be brought up in the Celtic ways of life, you'll be all too familiar with these experiences:   A photo posted by @eimher on Mar 5, 2016 at 9:40am PST  Until you said it at school you thought everyone called the airing cupboard the 'hot press'. Nope, they don’t.   A photo posted by roisinthedream (@roisinthedream) on Mar 15, 2015 at 2:21am PDT Even if she’s been here over 30 years, your mum still says she’s going home if she plans to visit her side of the family in Ireland.    A photo posted by Rachel Kenney (@rachel.kenney) on Jan 1, 2016 at 7:17pm PST On the flipside, you had to give up your bedroom countless times because an aunt/cousin/second cousin was in London for a few days. You got zero sympathy or appreciation from your parents for this.   A photo posted by Nadia (@_nadzzz_) on Aug 14, 2015 at 4:42pm PDT  You thought everyone had 50 first cousins. You have fond memories of visiting them for rural adventures on the Emerald Isle every year. Although they did take the piss out of your London accent, borrowed (stole) your clothes and had 13 weeks off school in the summer, compared to your pitiful six.    Celebrations #tayto #guinness A photo posted by Faoileàn (@thefroggie) on Mar 7, 2016 at 9:52am PST Summer holidays in Ireland also meant underage drinking. It’s okay because you’d have to eat a year’s worth of Tayto crisps at the same t

The UK garage scene that swept the nation in the late 1990s and early 2000s originated nowhere other than gritty old London. In fact, south London's So Solid Crew released their debut album 'They Don't Know' 14 years ago this week - and if you were lucky enough to experience the buzz of two-step's musical genesis then these are the signs that would have identified you as a certified garage lover: 1. You put in the work to reach the raves If you were old enough - or looked the part - you went to as many garage raves as possible, from the Club Colosseum in Vauxhall to Bagleys in King’s Cross. You didn’t let late night travel across the capital put you off. You were also willing to visit record shops such as Spin City or Baseline Records to buy your tickets days in advance, and you carefully prepared your outfit. Moschino jeans, Iceberg and Patrick Cox loafers were solid raver attire. <img id="15eec277-1f2a-158c-92bb-344708e01ea2" data-caption="" data-credit="Chrisy Costi" data-width-class="100" type="image/jpeg" total="166852" loaded="166852" image_id="102953430" src="http://media.timeout.com/images/102953430/image.jpg" class="photo lazy inline"> Chrisy Costi 2. You brought the rave home If you weren’t old enough to experience garage raves in all their sweaty, smoky, bass-filled glory, you may have frequented under-18 raves like Bigga Fish, downing a bottle of Hooch beforehand. Failing that, you stuck all the big rave flyers on your bedroom wall to live vicariously throu

With afternoon tea being very in trend at the moment, it’s no surprise there are more places than ever dedicating a section of their menu to this very opulent luxury. Be it a special occasion or a catch up with friends, Glasgow has a number of places for you to take some time out to indulge in one of our favourite past times – having our cake and eating it too! The stylish one – Blythswood Square From your traditional cream tea to the luxurious Duchess of Bedford, your very own Scottish samples or a detox version for those who care about the calories, Blythswood’s selection of delicious delicacies and service place them firmly on the map in terms of style and sass! With a good ratio of savoury to sweet and their menu changing regularly, it’s also the perfect choice for a sociable event as it has an extensive cocktail list also on offer.Blythswood Square, 11 Blythswood Square. From £22.50pp. The vintage one – The Butterfly and The Pig Mismatched cups, plates with random ornaments and old fashioned bits of furniture - it must be the cosy tea rooms at The Butterfly and The Pig. Whilst catching up with friends, treat yourself to some yummy homemade cakes, sandwiches made on their freshly baked daily bread and their different varieties of tea infusions... or the odd glass of bubbly if you prefer. Plus don’t forget to check out their towering cake cabinet!The Butterfly and The Pig, 151 Bath Street. From £12.50pp. The laidback/homely one – The Hidden Lane Tearoom Keep your eyes peel