GEOFF BOTTOMS relishes a profoundly human portrait of a family as it evolves across 55 years in Sheffield
Postwar Modern: a lovingly created show with touches of the sublime
LYNNE WALSH is thrilled by an exhibition of post-war British art
John McHale, First Contact, 1958
Collection Albright-Knox Art Gallery, Buffalo, New
York, © Estate of John McHale
[Brenda Bieger for Albright-Knox Art Gallery]
PAUL DONOVAN applauds an excellently crafted new musical that explores the life and death of Ruth Ellis
PAUL DONOVAN is tickled by the excruciating take-downs of one of the funniest, wittiest, political writers around.
RON JACOBS points out, via a transcription of Kissinger’s secret recordings, that Trump could never have existed without Nixon and Kissinger
ELLIS RAE is persuaded that the advantages of the ‘talking cure’ are superior to the treatment of mental illness with drugs
JOHN GREEN, MICHAL BONCZA and BELLA KATZ review The Good Boy, Broken English, and Don't Be Prey
Postwar Modern: New Art in Britain, 1945-1965.
Barbican
IF Jane Alison does little else in her career, she can look back on this lovingly curated show with pride.
Head of visual arts at London’s Barbican Centre, Alison has been in the job for nearly nine years; this exhibition has been two and a half in planning and execution. There are 48 artists represented, and some 200 works including painting, photography, sculpture and installations.
The curtain-raiser is John Latham’s Full Stop, a monumental piece with its giant black disk. A planet, black hole, an eclipse? One edge gives way to dots emerging — this full stop may not represent an ending, after all.
Similar stories
SIMON PARSONS applauds an artist who rescues and rehumanises stories of women, the victims of violence, from a feminist perspective
JOHN GREEN is stirred by an ambitious art project that explores solidarity and the shared memory of occupation
WILL STONE applauds a fine production that endures because its ever-relevant portrait of persecution
This is poetry in paint, spectacular but never spectacle for its own sake, writes JAN WOOLF