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    Art Institute of Chicago Receives $75 Million Gift

    The donation from Aaron I. Fleischman and Lin Lougheed will support the museum’s new galleries.The Art Institute of Chicago on Tuesday announced a gift of $75 million that will support new galleries for its collection of late-19th-century, modern and contemporary art.The new building will bear the names of Aaron I. Fleischman and Lin Lougheed, the married couple whose donation is the largest individual naming gift in the museum’s history.“This converts what has been an aspiration into a reality,” said James Rondeau, the president and director of the Art Institute.“It is just about access to collections,” he continued. “Only about 16 percent of our modern and contemporary collection is on view.”The museum has yet to announce the total cost of the building project, the square footage or a completion date, Rondeau said. While the addition will increase the Art Institute’s $115 million annual operating budget, Rondeau said the museum had prepared for that by building its endowment by $200 million over the past five years.The new galleries are part of a project that began in 2019 to enhance existing spaces and explore how to make the most of the museum’s campus. The Art Institute is working with the architecture firm Barozzi Veiga.Fleischman, formerly a prominent lawyer in Washington, began collecting in the mid-1980s and has been a trustee of the Art Institute for nearly 15 years. Lougheed received a doctorate from Teachers College, Columbia University, and he has specialized in international education.“Touring the collections on view and in storage I came to believe that more of the museum’s extraordinary collection needed to be available to visitors and presented in world-class architecture,” Fleischman said in a statement, adding that he was excited “for the museum to tell a more complete story of modern and contemporary art.” More

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    The Hidden Splendors of Cleveland’s Museums

    It’s not too late to enjoy some lake weather in Cleveland, where the ice cream is fabulous and there’s never any shortage of art to see — let our critic tell you where.In the depths of summer, while other art lovers in New York are catching the B train to Brighton Beach or busy with parties in the Hamptons, I like to enjoy a week or two of lake weather in Cleveland, where my in-laws live, where the ice cream is fabulous — and where there’s no shortage of art to see. In years past I’ve visited Praxis Fiber Workshop and the Sculpture Center — both of which make ingenious use of the huge spaces that a postindustrial city can offer — as well as the Museum of Contemporary Art Cleveland. But these are the places that caught me this time.Cleveland Museum of ArtImagine the Metropolitan Museum with free admission and not more than a comfortable sprinkling of other visitors, and you’ll get a sense of the CMA. With an encyclopedic collection of more than 65,000 objects housed in a snazzy neo-Classical palace, it’s always a great place to pass a few leisurely hours. But the Cleveland Museum of Art also hosts a constant stream of excellent temporary exhibitions. Just at the moment, they’ve got shows on Korean couture and the history of Korea’s so-called Seven Jeweled Mountain; an installation by Rose B. Simpson; and a fascinating show of photos from East Los Angeles and the U.S.-Mexico border.“Raven’s Head in Profile,” 1875, by Édouard Manet, an illustration for Edgar Allan Poe’s “The Raven.”The Cleveland Museum of Art, Charles W. Harkness Endowment Fund 1923.215The real knockout, though, is “Fairy Tales and Fables: Illustration and Storytelling in Art.” In just two modest rooms and a hallway, it covers a thrilling range of artistic styles and tones, with prints and drawings by Aubrey Beardsley, Gustave Doré, Marc Chagall and dozens of others. Picasso’s exhilarating illustrations of “Lysistrata,” the mind-bending details of Eugen Napoleon Neureuther’s Sleeping Beauty prints, and Édouard Manet’s inky, self-conscious raven, made for Mallarmé’s translation of Edgar Allan Poe’s famous poem, could all anchor exhibitions in their own right. But I was most struck by four wood engravings that Clare Leighton made to illustrate Thornton Wilder’s 1927 novel, “The Bridge of San Luis Rey.” I’ve never seen such depth and density wrung out of black and white, such virtuosic delicacy of engraving.Museum of American Porcelain Art“The Bride,” a porcelain sculpture based on a 1937 oil painting by Boleslaw Cybis, is one of an edition of 100 issued by Cybis Studio between 1980 and 1982.Carey Barone/ Museum of American Porcelain ArtA few years ago, Richard A. Barone, a retired asset manager, found himself reminiscing about the porcelain collectibles he’d once dabbled in trading, pieces made in a complex, uniquely American process in five factories in New Jersey. Shocked to discover that the factories were all closed or closing, and that there was no museum dedicated to American porcelain, he became a serious collector — buying up the remnants and archives of Edward Marshall Boehm Studio and the Cybis Studio in Trenton, along with hundreds of pieces — and opened his own.We are having trouble retrieving the article content.Please enable JavaScript in your browser settings.Thank you for your patience while we verify access. If you are in Reader mode please exit and log into your Times account, or subscribe for all of The Times.Thank you for your patience while we verify access.Already a subscriber? Log in.Want all of The Times? Subscribe. More

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    Paula Modersohn-Becker: A Trailblazing Artist Who Died Too Young

    An exultant sense of discovery is the propelling through line of “Paula Modersohn-Becker: Ich Bin Ich / I Am Me,” a glorious exhibition at the Neue Galerie that is, surprisingly, the German artist’s first in an American museum. (It will travel to the Art Institute of Chicago in October.)During a career cut short by her death in 1907, when she was only 31, little escaped Modersohn-Becker’s scrutiny. A paramount subject of inquiry was her own self. For some of her 60 self-portraits, which are her best-known works, she bared all: She is said to be the first Western female artist to depict herself in the nude. In many others, she holds a flower or a fruit, like a saint or a nobleman in a Renaissance painting. Either way, she looks unmistakably modern.Only a generation separates Modersohn-Becker from Mary Cassatt and Berthe Morisot, who shared her predilection for painting mothers and children. But while the Paris-based Impressionists depicted the bourgeois occupants of drawing-rooms, Modersohn-Becker, who visited Paris devotedly, homed in on the primal.Early drawings by Paula Modersohn-Becker, between 1898 and 1899, depicted the residents — particularly women and children — of Worpswede, an artist’s colony in northern Germany. They capture the harsh reality and vulnerability of their sitters, curators said. Annie SchlechterIt was on a visit to the Trocadéro ethnographic museum in Paris in 1906 that she discovered, a year before Picasso, the power of African masks. She was also looking at Courbet, Cézanne and Gauguin. All of these influences converge in such paintings as “Kneeling Mother With Child at Her Breast” from 1906, where a dark-skinned, blocky woman suckles a white infant (might Modersohn-Becker be alluding to the nourishment she derives from African art?), and “Reclining Mother with Child II” from the same year, of a nude woman lying on her side in a fetal position nursing a naked baby.Those were produced near the end of her life. Yet even at the outset, she showed a gift for channeling traditional methods and tropes to suit her sensibility. In 1898 and 1899, while sketching nude models in the way that art students had done for centuries, she also used charcoal to memorialize the farmers, peat diggers and charity cases in Worpswede, the rural village in northern Germany that she inhabited on and off for the rest of her life.We are having trouble retrieving the article content.Please enable JavaScript in your browser settings.Thank you for your patience while we verify access. If you are in Reader mode please exit and log into your Times account, or subscribe for all of The Times.Thank you for your patience while we verify access.Already a subscriber? Log in.Want all of The Times? Subscribe. More

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    Brazilian Art Student Switches Coin at the British Museum With a Fake

    The artist aimed to use sleight of hand to point to what he described as the museum’s problematic legacy of colonial-era acquisitions.A Brazilian artist strolled into the British Museum last month and approached a table where visitors are allowed to interact with historic objects. After handling a 17th-century British coin for a moment, he seemingly returned it and moved on, like thousands of other visitors.Only last week did the museum discover — through the artist’s Instagram page — that he had replaced a genuine coin with his own replica and discarded the real artifact in the museum’s donation box on his way out.The act was the culmination of a more-than-yearlong project by Ilê Sartuzi, an art student at Goldsmiths, University of London. To briefly steal the coin, he used the type of sleight of hand often associated with magicians to draw parallels to what he called the “trickery” of the museum’s display of objects with contested provenance.“The gesture of stealing as a central part of the project brings back the heated discussion about the role of looting in the museum’s foundation,” Mr. Sartuzi said.The museum has long faced criticism regarding its acquisition methods. Several nations have sought the return of particular objects in the museum’s exhibits and questioned the legitimacy of its collections. This latest stunt did not seem to resonate with the museum.“It’s a tired argument,” said Connor Watson, the museum’s spokesman. “We’re quite open about what is looted and what is a contested object.” We are having trouble retrieving the article content.Please enable JavaScript in your browser settings.Thank you for your patience while we verify access. If you are in Reader mode please exit and log into your Times account, or subscribe for all of The Times.Thank you for your patience while we verify access.Already a subscriber? Log in.Want all of The Times? Subscribe. More

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    The Art Forger Had Fooled Thousands. Then He Met Doug.

    When a man obsessed with woodblocks began to do business with a man obsessed with medical antiques, their relationship flowered — until it soured.Earl Washington loves wood.He loves maple wood from Wisconsin and boxwood from Turkey. He loves running his hands on its surface, feeling its heft and texture. But most of all he loves carving it. Thoughts about carving, he says, consume his waking moments.“If I’m looking at your face when I’m talking to you, I’m literally looking at how I’m going to carve your eyes and carve your nose on a piece of wood,” he said in an interview.For decades, beginning in the late 1990s, Washington, 62, created thousands of ornate woodblocks and used them to make intricate prints of all kinds of things: biblical imagery, erotica, anatomical illustrations, the stark motifs of German expressionism.Mastery was never enough for him, though. To profitably sell woodblocks — which can be an oddity in the art market — Washington decided he also needed myth. So he created elaborate origin stories for his pieces. Some, he claimed, had been made or acquired by his great-grandfather. Others he promoted as rare creations from the 16th and 17th centuries.Thousands of people bought them unquestioningly, but a few became suspicious and raised concerns online and to the authorities. The F.B.I. fielded some complaints, but was not aware, it said later, of the “depth and the breadth” of Washington’s scheme, so he continued to sell his creations, having mastered the craft of carving and the art of fooling others.Until one day in 2013, when he met Douglas Arbittier.Everything Earl Washington feels about wood, Arbittier feels about medical antiques.We are having trouble retrieving the article content.Please enable JavaScript in your browser settings.Thank you for your patience while we verify access. If you are in Reader mode please exit and log into your Times account, or subscribe for all of The Times.Thank you for your patience while we verify access.Already a subscriber? Log in.Want all of The Times? Subscribe. More

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    The Painter of Revolution, on Both Sides of the Atlantic

    Born into slavery, Guillaume Lethière became one of France’s most decorated painters. For the first time, a major exhibition gives us the full view of his scenes of love and war.Liberté, égalité … and that third one, what is it again?On July 14, 1789 (exactly 235 years ago this Sunday), some idealistic Parisians stormed a not especially crowded prison. They overthrew the king’s guard. They set in train a three-pronged revolution: for individual liberty, for civil equality, and, last and rarest, for communal obligation. That July fraternity passed from the realm of genealogy into politics — and this July’s startling French legislative election, fought over race, migration and national belonging, confirms how agitated that third virtue remains. Who is my brother? In the National Assembly of 1789 and the National Assembly of 2024, some questions never get a final answer.Far from the Bastille, at the Clark Art Institute in the Berkshires, one of the most remarkable exhibitions I’ve seen in years punches right at the heart of today’s altercations over nationality and democracy, culture and politics, and what it means to be a citizen. Guillaume Lethière (1760—1832) was a Neoclassical painter of mixed race who has never, until now, been the subject of a solo museum show. Born in the French Caribbean, almost certainly into slavery, he reached the summits of artistic achievement in Paris and Rome. As rebellions and revolutions shook both France and the Caribbean, he painted massive history paintings of heroes in togas, and portraits of men and women from Europe and the Antilles. It was Lethière’s calling, in an era where no bonds seemed stable, to give form to fraternité.“Woman Leaning on a Portfolio,” circa 1799, oil on canvas, at the Clark. Our critic celebrates “the aloof precision of Lethière’s line” in this portrait, which pictures his stepdaughter clutching an artist’s papers. Richard Beaven for The New York TimesThis groundbreaking show was organized over five years by Esther Bell and Olivier Meslay of the Clark, along with Marie-Pierre Salé of the Musée du Louvre in Paris, where the exhibition will travel in November. Bell and Meslay have also edited an imposing 400-page catalog, bulky with contributions from leading scholars of French and Caribbean history. But “Guillaume Lethière” is not — this point is critical — a corrective exhibition, highlighting some marginal figure excluded from a white, European establishment. Lethière couldn’t have been more central to the Paris art world of the late 18th and early 19th centuries. He ran one of the leading academies. He painted the empress Joséphine, a fellow Creole. Ingres drew him and his family. In a 1798 painting depicting France’s celebrity artists of that age of revolution, Lethière stands in the most prominent position, bathed in light.Even today, at the Louvre, he is hiding in plain sight. If you’ve ever fought through the throngs in the Italian painting wing, you may remember being spat out of the Mona Lisa gallery into a grand chamber with a concession selling magnets, mugs and other souvenirs. In all my years I never really looked up in that room — but right there, hanging above the Leonardo Rubik’s cubes and Eiffel Tower figurines, are two giant paintings by Lethière, two stentorian 25-footers of antique virtue and death. A consul orders his sons beheaded for betraying the Roman Republic. A centurion stabs his daughter to save her from enslavement.That’s our guy! As weighty as marble. As serious as the law. What you are going to see in this show is the cold beauty of Neoclassicism: a style predicated on Greek and Roman examples that found favor during the French Revolution, everywhere from painting and architecture to fashion and furniture design. Neoclassicism frowns on pleasure. It sneers at ornament. Its greatest exponent was Jacques-Louis David, the Jacobin artist/terrorist and Lethière’s great rival, who painted Roman history and myth as moral lessons for the new French republic.We are having trouble retrieving the article content.Please enable JavaScript in your browser settings.Thank you for your patience while we verify access. If you are in Reader mode please exit and log into your Times account, or subscribe for all of The Times.Thank you for your patience while we verify access.Already a subscriber? Log in.Want all of The Times? Subscribe. More

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    It’s Still Barbie’s World

    A new exhibition reminds us that while the famous doll can now do any job, her greatest power is selling stuff — to children and adults alike.At the latest celebration of the world’s most famous doll, everything is pink.People speak in hushed tones, pointing out their favorite — the one they had, or wanted desperately — and laugh with childish wonder about the fantastical stories they used the curvy, 11.5 inch figure to tell. Strangers of all ages swap tales and compare models. Some recall being forbidden to own the doll, with its rather sexy adult body; some profess disinterest or even disdain; and others wonder about how sustainable it is to produce so many of the plastic figures that three are sold every second.Love her or hate her, Barbie — 65 this year and still basking in the glow of her recent Hollywood success — has a powerful hold on the cultural imagination of adults and children alike. At “Barbie: The Exhibition,” running through Feb. 23, 2025, at the Design Museum in London, 180 chronologically displayed dolls and accessories chart her aesthetic and sociocultural shifts.The show opens with the original: the first Barbie ever, spotlit on a pedestal where she turns slowly in her strapless black-and-white-striped bathing suit, her tiny feet wedged into precariously high kitten-heel sandals, her blonde ponytail coif immaculate. Nearby, the first commercial for the doll plays on a monitor, its sugary sweet jingle drifting through subsequent rooms: “Barbie’s small and so petite, her clothes and figure look so neat!” and “Purses hats and gloves galore, and all the gadgets gals adore! Barbie, beautiful Barbie …”By the last gallery, Barbie has a mansion, a camper van, a cabin in Aspen, a hot rod, a mini car and a pool with a slide.Benjamin Cremel/Agence France-Presse — Getty ImagesWhen Ruth Handler, who co-founded Mattel in 1945 and acted as its first president, conceived of Barbie in the early 1950s, it was as an alternative to the omnipresent baby doll, which she thought — watching her daughter play — automatically socialized young girls for marriage and motherhood.Barbie, launched to some skepticism from male executives in 1959, was an adult woman with a glamorous interchangeable wardrobe, offering more role play options. For parents spooked by Barbie’s maturity, Mattel developed more benign options, including a freckled best friend, Midge (1963) and little sister Skipper (1964). Ken, Barbie’s devoted boyfriend, appeared in 1961, with a head of strange velvet hair. And so, the franchise grew and grew.We are having trouble retrieving the article content.Please enable JavaScript in your browser settings.Thank you for your patience while we verify access. If you are in Reader mode please exit and log into your Times account, or subscribe for all of The Times.Thank you for your patience while we verify access.Already a subscriber? Log in.Want all of The Times? Subscribe. More