Caspar David Friedrich is considered one of the most important German painters, and his landscape works live large in the cultural consciousness in Germany and beyond. You have probably seen the 19th-century artist's most famous painting, Wanderer Above the Sea of Fog, a lone figure that you see from the back looking out over a wide valley of cliffs and mists.

To mark what would have been the 250th birthday of Friedrich, over the last year, major institutions have been celebrating the artist’s works: a vast oeuvre of deeply contemplative, almost surreal landscapes that broke with their times. A string of major exhibitions took place throughout 2024 across Germany, and this month, that roving program reached its final stop with a blockbuster exhibition at the Metropolitan Museum in New York. “The Soul of Nature” is on view through May 11, and it is the largest showing of Friedrich’s works to come together in the U.S., including an impressive amount of loans of works that rarely travel (Wanderer Above the Sea of Fog is one of them). Shows in 2024 in Europe included "Art for a New Age" at the Hamburger Kunsthalle, "Unending Landscapes" at the Berlin State Museums, and "Where it All Began" at the Dresden State Collections.

Art Critic Ben Davis, recently saw the show at the Met, which opened this month, and Senior Editor, Kate Brown, had the pleasure of seeing the Dresden exhibition in December, which happens to be the city where Friedrich lived and made most of his famous works. Davis joins Brown on the podcast to discuss Friedrich's enduring legacy, and they dive into some of the major currents in his work, as well as the backstory that underpins his serene nature scenes: shifting ideas about religion and the spirit transforming European consciousness and a very tumultuous time in the continent's history.

“Identity politics” is among the most contentious terms in recent debates about art. And now, the most powerful people in the United States are blaming just about everything on “DEI” and “wokeness.” The very concept of diversity as a positive ideal seems to be under threat.

At the same time, so far there has been nowhere near the protest you would expect. Civil society feels stunned. At least part of this seems to be confusion about what has gone wrong to bring us here, with sections of the population now seeming to reject or just tune out progressive ideas that were all but dominant in mainstream culture just a few short years ago.

Maybe backlash was always inevitable. But how do we find a way forward? How do you talk about real criticisms of what may have made the social justice culture of the recent past confusing or alienating—without adopting the terms of a truly destructive culture war that is now all around?

A few weeks ago, we had the art critic Dean Kissick on the podcast to talk about his December cover story for Harper’s magazine, which argued that identity politics had, in his words, “ruined contemporary art.” In Ben Davis' essay for Artnet responding to him, called “Will the Art World Go Post-Woke in 2025?”, Davis concluded by saying that those looking for a constructive way forward should read the theorist Olúfẹ́mi O. Táíwò book Elite Capture: How the Powerful Took Over Identity Politics (And Everything Else).

Táíwò teaches philosophy at Georgetown University and has written pieces for outlets including Foreign Policy, The Nation, and The New Yorker. He’s written two books of political theory, Reconsidering Reparations and Elite Capture. Davis has found the concepts that he’s developed, which include “elite capture,” “deference politics,” and “being-in-the-room privilege” very useful in thinking about some of these problems, which are some of the most important problems of the day—so Davis brought him on to discuss.

Art comes in all shapes and sizes, of course—but recently it has been getting smaller. Or at least that is what is argued in an article by Kate Brown, Artnet Senior Editor and Art Angle co-host. It's called "Why is Small Art So Big Right Now?"

Not so long ago, the trend was in the other direction. Gigantism and grandiosity were the rage, and artwork stretched to environmental scale. There's still plenty of that, of course—don't worry. But Kate gathers together a number of signs and talks to a number of artists and art dealers, and it all points towards a growing interest in smaller, more intimate kinds of art experiences.

And it turns out there's a lot to think about in the question of little art—about the contemporary pressures on art-makers, and about what makes an artwork rewarding to look at in the first place. So, this week, we have Kate on the podcast to talk with Artnet National Critic Ben Davis about her essay.

We are back this week with our monthly edition of the Art Angle Roundup, where co-hosts Kate Brown and Ben Davis are joined by a guest to discuss some of the biggest headlines of the month. This week, Caroline Goldstein, acting managing editor of Artnet News, joins the show.

It’s been quite the January. Though it is typically a slow month, some major stories have transpired. We’ll be talking about censorship in the museum world in the U.S., looking in particular at the case of two Sally Mann photographs that were seized from a museum in Dallas, Texas.

We will also talk about the passing of the filmmaker David Lynch on January 15. Lynch is famous for his films, but he was also a respected artist with his fair share of institutional exhibitions under his belt. He has always been a painter, but do we like his paintings? We discuss. Lynch has been represented by Pace Gallery since 2022. We take a look at his artistic legacy and his enigmatic ways.

Last but not least, New York’s prestigious Metropolitan Museum has ventured into the blockchain world of all places with a free-to-play video game that you can access on Web3. The game was launched this month together with TR Lab, a platform that aims to connect artists and technologists and creates and sells fine art collectibles. The Met's new game, called Art Links, does weekly drops. If you win you can collect badges in your OpenSea wallet and win IRL prizes. Sound fun? Maybe not? We each played it and gave it our honest review.

We don’t need to tell anyone listening that it is a difficult and alarming political moment. You may be asking, How will art weather the storm?

To answer that question, you probably need to take stock of how art has navigated the political storms of the recent past. And there’s been a lot of debate about this recently, centered on the critic Dean Kissick’s long essay for Harper’s magazine from late last year, titled “The Painted Protest: How Politics Ruined Contemporary Art.”

Kissick first drew major attention as a chronicler of New York’s downtown scene in a column he wrote for the art magazine Spike from 2017 to 2022. In his Harper’s piece, he narrates being drawn to art in the late 2000s as a space of experimentation and glamor—a spirit, he wrote, that big museums and biennials had lost. Kissick described disaffection from institutions that now focused, in his words, on art “dressed up as protest and contextualized through decolonial or queer theory, with a singular focus on identity.”

The essay has been both slammed as carelessly feeding the cultural backlash that’s rising all around and hailed for speaking honestly about an art world grown complacent.

Some of this was already discussed on the Art Angle for our year-end roundup in December. Artnet Art Critic Ben Davis also started the new year writing his own take, titled “Will the Art World Go Post-Woke in 2025?” The reaction to that piece, in turn, led Kissick and Davis to this discussion.

Last weekend, warnings to evacuate were issued to the suburban westside neighborhood of Brentwood, which includes the esteemed Getty Center, home to one of the city’s most prized art collections. After more than a week of burning, L.A.’s devastating wildfires, which began on January 7, are still not fully contained, forcing ongoing evacuation orders around the coastal city. It is the worst fire event in L.A.’s history and has taken 24 lives.

As part of the Getty Trust, the museum features European paintings, including Van Gogh’s Irises, and works by Rembrandt, Monet, Manet, and Peter Paul Rubens. It also houses Greek, Roman, and Etruscan art from the Neolithic to Late Antiquity—some of which is partially held at its second campus, the Getty Villa. Days before the threat of fire reached the museum’s main venue over the weekend, the Villa was already grappling with the Palisades blaze, which ended up destroying or damaging around 4,000 structures and spreading over 23,000 acres. As the fires raged around Los Angeles, intensified by strong winds, media imagery circulating online showed brush burning around the Getty Villa in the Palisades.

This prompted panic about the security of the collection. The institution, however, has long billed itself as a highly fire-safe institution. Built in 1997, the Getty Center has been described as “a marvel of anti-fire engineering.” Throughout the last week, its team has worked tirelessly to defend the property and has communicated daily about the safety and security of its sites. Unfortunately, many other properties—including thousands of homes, businesses, and smaller cultural institutions—have been destroyed. Many cultural workers, collectors, and gallerists are among those who lost their homes, and artists’ homes and studios—including entire bodies of work and archives—have been irretrievably lost. The extent of livelihoods destroyed in Los Angeles is truly heartbreaking. We will link to resources in the show notes where you can find out how to help. We also have a story on our website providing frequent updates on the state of the cultural scene.

This week, the J. Paul Getty Trust and a coalition of local and international cultural institutions announced a $12 million emergency relief fund for members of the Los Angeles arts community affected by the wildfires.

Katherine E. Fleming, president and CEO of the J. Paul Getty Trust, joins me on The Art Angle to discuss her experience of the wildfires, the Getty’s state-of-the-art prevention protocols for its valuable art, and what the fires mean for Los Angeles’ cultural scene as it eventually seeks to rebuild.

Can you think of a work of art that truly thrilled you? Maybe you can—and if you can, maybe it even literally made you shiver, or sent a chill up your spine.

This is the phenomena that is called “Aesthetic Chills.” It’s tied to strong emotional reactions to music or dramatic moments in fiction, or even to works of visual art. The effect is a bit mysterious, though it’s also associated with some of our most memorable art encounters.What does it mean for an artwork to be literally “spine-tingling?” Why does it happen when it happens, and why is it so rare? My colleague and Art Angle co-host Ben Davis wrote a two-art essay last year on this fascinating phenomena.

Ben's essay argued that this was more than just a technical subject. He thought that it might even point towards some vital parts of what make art important in our lives that don’t get enough attention. Based on the reaction of readers, many seem to agree—we also published an essay of readers responding with their own examples of artworks that had the effect on them. So, to kick the year off, I thought I'd talk with him about "Aesthetic Chills."

—Kate Brown

Read the original articles referenced in the piece:

—"Unlocking the Secrets of Art That Gives You Chills"

—"Why Only Some Artworks Give You Chills—And Most Just Don’t"

—"Readers Weigh In on Which Artworks Give Them Chills"

The filmmaker, artist, and writer Miranda July has worked across such a variety of media over the years, one might say it is almost hard to categorize her work. But there is actually a strong through line that emerges when you consider July's vast oeuvre: an interest in how the remarkable may occur in small everyday moments and interactions—an interest in loneliness, sexuality, and death, and needing each other in our capacity to change and love—all these aspects that really make us human.

With this, July has built a diverse and awe-inspiring body of work. It includes a messaging app she developed called Somebody and an interfaith secondhand shop. Her art has been on view with the Venice Biennale, and she's also made three feature length films, two of which she starred in.

She's published four books and a participatory website called Learning to Love You More that she created with American artist Harold Fletcher that consists of assignments for the general public who make the art. There are instructions like "make a portrait of your friend's desires," or "perform the phone call someone else wishes they could have." One of these assignments is part of her first solo exhibition, a major retrospective on view at Fondazione Prada in Milan until the end of October. It is "Assignment 43: Make an exhibition of the art in your parents' house," and it was completed by a local woman from Milan. It is one piece among many in a show that spans 30 years of July's practice. There is also a new participatory video series in the mix called F.A.M.I.L.Y (Falling Apart Meanwhile I Love You).

Her newest novel, All Fours was published in May this year. A New York Times bestseller and long list finalist for the National Book Award, All Fours is an astonishingly candid look at sexuality and transformation, but also at an extremely underrepresented topic in literature: menopause and female aging. When I connected with July, she was in her home, which is also her studio in Los Angeles, a small painting by Louise Bonnet hung just behind her. It's called Miranda, and it's a contemplative portrait of a female figure in what looks like a state of metamorphosis. It suits July's universe quite poetically.

But Lippard has also been much more than a writer. She curated “Eccentric Abstraction” in 1966, helping to define what would come to be called post-Minimalism in sculpture. Her experimental and traveling card shows helped create the audience for conceptual, minimal, and land art. She curated maybe the first museum show of Second Wave feminist art at the Aldrich Museum in 1971, and was a part of the founding mother-collective behind Heresies, a journal that shaped the field of feminist art history.

Radicalized by sixties activism, she participated in the Art Workers Coalition, a historic activist formation protesting against the Vietnam War and for equality in the museum world. She was part of many, many other collectives and activist groups thereafter, including the Artists Call Against U.S. Intervention in Central America in the early 1980s, a project she discussed with us on the Art Angle back in 2022. Now Lippard has written a new book called Stuff: Instead of a Memoir. It’s a short-packed tome that surveys an eventful life through photos that catalog the items Lippard finds around her in the home where she has lived since moving from New York to the small town of Galisteo in rural New Mexico in the early nineties. It’s a fitting way to tell the story of a writer who has thought so much about how images and words fit together, and how meaning emerges from place and community.

This week on the podcast, Ben Davis speaks once again to Lucy Lippard about a life in and out of art.

We are back this week with our monthly edition of the Art Angle Roundup, where co-hosts Kate Brown and Ben Davis are joined by a special guest to parse some of the biggest headlines in the art world. Usually, we look back on the previous month, but as we head into the holidays and close out a busy calendar in the art world, we are doing things differently for the last roundup of the year, reviewing all of 2024 and the trends, themes, and stories that defined it.

It was tough going in the art market, where slumped sales were countered by some big flashy media moments, including one duct-taped banana and a lot of other novelties and masterpieces that tried to grab dwindling attention spans and loosen tightened purse-strings. Did the approach work out for the market? (spoiler: not exactly; the industry experienced a rash of gallery closures). We discuss what that all means for the outlook for 2025.

In the realm of politics, culture workers and artists vocalized frustrations with arts institutions they deemed to be silent or lagging on key global issues. Picket lines continued to proliferate around this, and livewire discussions about aesthetics were ignited by the Venice Biennale and the Whitney Biennale this year, both of which received mixed reviews.

At the same time, a new era of technology—led by leaps of progress in the realm of artificial intelligence—is being ushered in and changing the way we see and understand art, and other kinds of work (some of the work is arguably not quite art) that is being made. There are also some ridiculous and fun stories in the mix, because this is the art world, a place that is known to be, well, deeply unusual.

To discuss all this and more, senior editor Kate Brown and art critic Ben Davis, jumped on the air with Andrew Russeth, Artnet Pro editor and art critic. They parsed the headlines and the conversations that stirred the art industry in a year that was anything but ordinary.

With his themes of repetition and appropriation, Andy Warhol’s work can seem mass produced. He was prone to say that his assistants did his work for him and often invented different narratives in interviews. In fact, weaving tall tales and shaping his own mythology was another important aspect of his art: he was creating the ultimate persona of an artist every bit as Pop as his paintings, one who specialized in glacial coolness and glib detachment.

Although the paintings might look like they came off of a conveyor belt, that was by design, and Warhol maintained close involvement with his work. In fact, before silkscreen printing became his trademark, Warhol hand-painted the 32 canvasses that make up the iconic 1962 work Campbell’s Soup Cans.

Warhol gained fame in the 1960s as part of the Pop boom, but this was actually the second phase of his career. He spent the 1950s in New York as a successful commercial illustrator, doing advertisements, book and record covers. All the while he made personal work and had a smattering of shows in small galleries, most of which were ignored or poorly received. But the seeds of his subversive repertoire were being slyly developed in his intimate drawings to which Warhol would return in his later life.

For this week’s episode, Artnet editor William Van Meter is joined by the journalist, critic, and author of the 2020 biography Warhol, Blake Gopnik. What more could be said about the artist that the heap of other biographies hadn’t covered? It turns out, plenty. Gopnik spent eight years researching and writing Warhol, and at almost 1,000 pages it is filled with wonderful details and newly discovered data.

On this episode we discuss Warhol by-hand, his pre-Pop era as well as some of his later, less mechanized moments such as his collaboration with Jean-Michel Basquiat, and how he managed to leave his mark on every aspect of his work, handmade and beyond.