Latest news with #BarbaraKruger
Yahoo
11-06-2025
- Politics
- Yahoo
I Was at the L.A. Protests. They're Nothing Like What You're Seeing on TV.
On Sunday afternoon, I drove to the Los Angeles ICE protest down by Temple and Alameda. It's around 14 miles from my house and miraculously only took 35 minutes that day. Maybe people were already down at the protest, or maybe they were at the L.A. Pride Parade, or maybe they were just at brunch, but even the chronic arterial blockage on the 101 at Silver Lake Boulevard was moving pretty nicely. I pointed myself to the southeast side of where I knew the protests to be because I know a cheap parking lot down there. I situated myself right near the Geffen wing of the Museum of Contemporary Art, with the Barbara Kruger Untitled (Questions) mural on the exterior wall: Who is beyond the law? Who is bought and sold? Who is free to choose? I went and chanted and was home safe and sound by 7 p.m. And now the Marines are here. As with the fires earlier this year, people from all corners and chapters of my life have been texting to check in ever since. Also like the fires, everything happening in Los Angeles right now is happening around the corner and a world away. If you didn't know, if you didn't want to know, you could pretty easily keep not knowing. Los Angeles is crazy vast. It feels more like a patchwork of little cities than the great big city it is. That Sunset Fire was five miles away from where we live, from where we sat watching it on local news. We didn't even smell it until long after it had been contained. Our go bags didn't even move from the entryway to the car. We were protected by a freeway, by a distance that isn't actually that far. For Sunday, I had made a loose plan to meet up with a couple of friends who were also heading downtown. They'd gone to City Hall, and up where they were, at that end of it, the LAPD were trying to move the crowd, to kettle them using flashbangs and rubber bullets. I was a seven-minute walk from where this was happening and wouldn't have known if we hadn't been texting and trying to find each other. Where I was, things were peaceful and as orderly as these things get. As I crossed 1st Street on Alameda to approach a denser area, protestors were directing traffic. Warning cars that they might end up stuck in a crowd of people, giving them alternate directions to the freeway. Warning us pedestrians, 'Have an exit plan. They're about to declare this unlawful.' There was a skirmish line of officers, a bunch of protestors just close and just far enough. There were chants and signs, American flags and Mexican flags. There were abuelitas handing out cold bottles of water. There were dogs. There were people asking to pet the dogs. It was as peaceful and orderly as these things get, but there was the unshakable sense that it could all go to shit in an instant. It did not. After an hour or so, I went back toward my car, and there was an L.A. Pride block party around Angel City Brewery at 2nd and Alameda. I went in and another one of my friends made his way over to meet me. We each had a couple of pints of its limited-edition LGBTQ-IPA and roamed. DJs, face-painting, knockoff labubus, sweet and savory crepes. A block and a half from the unrest that was so violent and dangerous that the National Guard had been deployed, there was a packed and positive block party. Once you tuned out the white noise of the three choppers circling low overhead, you wouldn't have known anything was happening at all. There was black smoke in my rear view mirror on the drive back, and I thought, Well, that ain't good. It wasn't until I got home and turned on the local news that I found out it was Waymo driverless cars being burned. Five of them. When I turned on the national news after dark, that was pretty much all I saw: The black smoke and flaming carcasses of five empty cars owned by Google or something. Not the concerned citizens that showed up for their neighbors just to be greeted by flash grenades and rubber bullets. If you got all of your information from cable news, burning cars were all you'd think happened. Donald Trump called in the Marines the next morning, and they drove in from Twenty Nine Palms. They're here now, I guess. Right now, the local news is doing a segment on Father's Day gift ideas. The president thinks the situation is dangerous enough to require the military, but KTLA does not think it is important enough to preempt a piece on backgammon sets and coffee mugs repurposed from MLB game bats. They're here now, I guess, 700 strong, and nobody seems to know what they're going to do, nor even where they're going to stay or what they're going to eat, because now we know that nobody budgeted for the lodging or meals of the 2,000 National Guard members who've been sent here, who woke up on the cold stone floor of some federal building. The ICE activity we are protesting is allegedly being directed by White House deputy chief of staff Stephen Miller. On Monday, The Wall Street Journal reported that Miller called a meeting of ICE officials last month and directed them to 'just go out there and arrest illegal aliens.' Not to target 'the worst of the worst,' as the president had indicated. Not even to target criminals or gang members at all. But to roll up to a Home Depot where day laborers gather. To post up outside of a grammar school graduation in a neighborhood with a high percentage of undocumented residents. Just go and grab them and pull them away from their homes and their babies and their lives. Just lock them up. Now, that's what they're doing. That's what we're protesting. And if it turns out their papers actually are in order, which it has more than a few times, then tough shit. As with New York, just about everyone who tells you Los Angeles is a crime-ridden hellhole has never actually spent time here. That's why it's so surprising that Stephen Miller is a Los Angeles native—well, kind of. He's from Santa Monica, twelve miles and anywhere from a forty five- to ninety-minute drive from here. To have a friend who moves to the West Side is to have a friend you never see anymore. To have an afternoon meeting on the West Side is to have your whole day spoken for. It's not that far, but it's a world away. There's a video that made the rounds in the early days of the first Trump administration, when Miller was a lower-level spokesghoul. It's our boy as a Santa Monica High School student and worth taking a fresh look at now that we know he's one of the architects of this ICE campaign of random terror. Look at this: There he is. The sneer for which he'd come to be known is already fully formed. His beard is largely too embarrassed to have anything to do with his face. He's got the general look of someone you'd see juggling outside of a Barenaked Ladies show because he's afraid to go inside the Barenaked Ladies show because someone in there might be doing pot. He's arguing for his right to leave his trash behind. And he seems to want to be cheered for it. Los Angeles is crazy vast. Santa Monica High School is twelve miles from where I sit writing. If I left right now, I'd be there in an hour. But do you know what's one half of one mile, one ten-minute walk away from Santa Monica High School? The beach. A really nice, clean, and well-maintained beach, as a matter of fact. Miller could have been taking a surf lesson, eating some Dippin' Dots, or watching a majestic sunset over the Pacific Ocean. Instead, he's sneering to a crowd about his right as a white person to leave his mess behind for a brown person to clean up. This behavior is rancid. This rancid behavior is motivated by a rancid worldview that is the kind of rancid you really don't grow out of. This is rancid, and now it's backed up by the United States government, and now the United States government is backed up by the United States military. These raids are the acting out of that entitled and bigoted and absolutely rancid worldview. That's what we're protesting. And on the whole we're doing it more peacefully than most groups of people who take to the streets after their city's team wins or loses the Stanley Cup. We do not need your help. Anyway, the Marines are here, and we're all just kind of waiting. Around the corner and a world away. And I'm thinking of Barbara Kruger's questions that hung above the protest I attended on Sunday. Who follows orders? Who salutes longest? Who dies first? Who laughs last? You Might Also Like Kid Cudi Is All Right 16 Best Shoe Organizers For Storing and Displaying Your Kicks
Yahoo
10-06-2025
- Politics
- Yahoo
The downtown L.A. mural that was a prophetic backdrop to ICE street protests
As protesters swarmed downtown Los Angeles to denounce ICE raids in their communities and the deployment of the National Guard, a potent image kept flashing across television screens and social media: officers in riot gear facing off against flag- and sign-waving demonstrators in front of a strikingly resonant, red mural posing a series of queries interrogating the very nature of power and control. Barbara Kruger's 30-by-191-foot "Questions" takes up the entire side wall of the Museum of Contemporary Art's Geffen Contemporary warehouse building, facing Temple Street and — notably — the Edward R. Roybal Federal Building. Like many of Kruger's most iconic images, including her famous 1989 abortion rights poster, "Your Body Is a Battleground," the mural features words in starkly clear graphic design — in this case, white letters on a red background asking nine now-prophetic questions: "Who is beyond the law? Who is bought and sold? Who is free to choose? Who does the time? Who follows orders? Who salutes longest? Who prays loudest? Who dies first? Who laughs last?" The mural was commissioned in 1990 by former MOCA curator Ann Goldstein, who is now at the the Art Institute of Chicago. Former MOCA Chief Curator Paul Schimmel posted a TV screenshot of protesters in front of the mural on Sunday with the caption, "#Barbara Krugers #moca mural doing its art job as the riots against #ice consume LA." Reached for comment Monday, Schimmel added that Kruger "understood the importance and power of a mural facing the then-new Federal Building. Multiple generations of MOCA staff have brought it back to life because of its profundity." Kruger, a longtime L.A. resident, responded Monday to The Times' request for comment about the mural's immersion in this fraught moment of city history, writing via email: "This provocation is giving Trump what he wants: the moment he can declare martial law. As if that's not already in play." In a YouTube video posted to MOCA's website when the museum reinstalled the mural in 2018, Kruger says: "There was a very visible wall on the side of this building, and it was an opportunity to make a statement about pride and prominence and power and control and fear. The questions were always the important part of the work." At another point in the video, she adds: "One would hope that in the 30 years since, things would have changed a bit. And things have changed. For the good and for the bad, and for everything in between." Images of "Questions" abound on social media, including on X, where a few users recognized the significance of the art behind the protesters. Misinformation has been rampant on social media, and one post showed a photo of a masked individual creeping below the mural with the claim that the person "broke into the MOCA Museum and destroyed everything." A MOCA representative debunked that claim Monday, saying that the museum closed early, at about 1:30 p.m. Sunday, "out of an abundance of caution and for the safety and well-being of our staff and visitors," and that it expected to open again, per its normal operating hours, on Thursday. The museum is always closed Monday through Wednesday. The only damage to the Geffen Contemporary was some graffiti that the museum said could be removed. Adding a hyper-meta art moment, MOCA's current durational performance, "Police State" by Pussy Riot frontwoman Nadya Tolokonnikova, continued until 6 p.m. inside the building, just without its usual live audience. The performance consists of Tolokonnikova sitting at a bare wooden table inside of a corrugated steel structure resembling a Russian prison cell. Tolokonnikova, who spent two years in a Russian prison following a performance in Moscow's Cathedral of Christ the Saviour, spent those hours Sunday broadcasting live audio of the protests outside mixed with her own heartbeat to the empty museum. "Police State Exhibit Is Closed Due To The Police State," she wrote in a post on X. 'Durational performance is a scary thing to step into: once you said you're going to show up, you can't just leave simply because of the National Guard had a whim to occupy the city, so my choice was to stay and continue doing my job as an artist,' she said in a statement. Get notified when the biggest stories in Hollywood, culture and entertainment go live. Sign up for L.A. Times entertainment alerts. This story originally appeared in Los Angeles Times.
Los Angeles Times
10-06-2025
- Politics
- Los Angeles Times
The downtown L.A. mural that was a prophetic backdrop to ICE street protests
As protesters swarmed downtown Los Angeles to denounce ICE raids in their communities and the deployment of the National Guard, a potent image kept flashing across television screens and social media: officers in riot gear facing off against flag- and sign-waving demonstrators in front of a strikingly resonant, red mural posing a series of queries interrogating the very nature of power and control. Barbara Kruger's 30-by-191-foot 'Questions' takes up the entire side wall of the Museum of Contemporary Art's Geffen Contemporary warehouse building, facing Temple Street and — notably — the Edward R. Roybal Federal Building. Like many of Kruger's most iconic images, including her famous 1989 abortion rights poster, 'Your Body Is a Battleground,' the mural features words in starkly clear graphic design — in this case, white letters on a red background asking nine now-prophetic questions: 'Who is beyond the law? Who is bought and sold? Who is free to choose? Who does the time? Who follows orders? Who salutes longest? Who prays loudest? Who dies first? Who laughs last?' The mural was commissioned in 1990 by former MOCA curator Ann Goldstein, who is now at the the Art Institute of Chicago. Former MOCA Chief Curator Paul Schimmel posted a TV screenshot of protesters in front of the mural on Sunday with the caption, '#Barbara Krugers #moca mural doing its art job as the riots against #ice consume LA.' Reached for comment Monday, Schimmel added that Kruger 'understood the importance and power of a mural facing the then-new Federal Building. Multiple generations of MOCA staff have brought it back to life because of its profundity.' Kruger, a longtime L.A. resident, responded Monday to The Times' request for comment about the mural's immersion in this fraught moment of city history, writing via email: 'This provocation is giving Trump what he wants: the moment he can declare martial law. As if that's not already in play.' In a YouTube video posted to MOCA's website when the museum reinstalled the mural in 2018, Kruger says: 'There was a very visible wall on the side of this building, and it was an opportunity to make a statement about pride and prominence and power and control and fear. The questions were always the important part of the work.' At another point in the video, she adds: 'One would hope that in the 30 years since, things would have changed a bit. And things have changed. For the good and for the bad, and for everything in between.' Images of 'Questions' abound on social media, including on X, where a few users recognized the significance of the art behind the protesters. Misinformation has been rampant on social media, and one post showed a photo of a masked individual creeping below the mural with the claim that the person 'broke into the MOCA Museum and destroyed everything.' A MOCA representative debunked that claim Monday, saying that the museum closed early, at about 1:30 p.m. Sunday, 'out of an abundance of caution and for the safety and well-being of our staff and visitors,' and that it expected to open again, per its normal operating hours, on Thursday. The museum is always closed Monday through Wednesday. The only damage to the Geffen Contemporary was some graffiti that the museum said could be removed. Adding a hyper-meta art moment, MOCA's current durational performance, 'Police State' by Pussy Riot frontwoman Nadya Tolokonnikova, continued until 6 p.m. inside the building, just without its usual live audience. The performance consists of Tolokonnikova sitting at a bare wooden table inside of a corrugated steel structure resembling a Russian prison cell. Tolokonnikova, who spent two years in a Russian prison following a performance in Moscow's Cathedral of Christ the Saviour, spent those hours Sunday broadcasting live audio of the protests outside mixed with her own heartbeat to the empty museum. 'Police State Exhibit Is Closed Due To The Police State,' she wrote in a post on X. 'Durational performance is a scary thing to step into: once you said you're going to show up, you can't just leave simply because of the National Guard had a whim to occupy the city, so my choice was to stay and continue doing my job as an artist,' she said in a statement.
Business Mayor
03-05-2025
- Entertainment
- Business Mayor
barbara kruger's latest installation wraps a passenger train traveling across ukraine
The railways of Ukraine become the site for a major new installation by artist Barbara Kruger titled, 'Untitled (Another Again).' Set against this landscape of persistence and uncertainty, the traveling artwork has launched on May 1st, 2025. Rather than a museum or gallery, the moving skin of an Intercity train hosts the work, which marks a solemn moment for public art, one that travels alongside the people it hopes to honor. Barbara Kruger uses the moving canvas of a Ukrainian Railways Intercity train to create a site of visual and emotional resonance. Covering the train's exterior with bold typography, Kruger's work will echo through Ukraine's wartime landscape. 'Untitled (Another Again)' is developed in collaboration with RIBBON International and Ukrainian Railways, two organizations committed to cultural preservation and public engagement. Curated by Masha Isserlis, the installation runs from May 1st — July 14th, 2025, acting as an expression of solidarity with the people of Ukraine. Barbara Kruger, Untitled (Another Again) 2025, Ukrainian Railways Intercity Train, Ukraine. courtesy of the artist, RIBBON International, Ukrainian Railways, and Sprüth Magers. photo: Vitalii Halanzha Barbara Kruger's text voices cycles of endurance and hope Artist Barbara Kruger, together with nonprofit RIBBON International, emphasizes local voice by presenting her typographic text primarily in Ukrainian, with an English translation accompanying it. This choice highlights the importance of cultural self-definition at a time when Ukraine's sovereignty, heritage, and language face ongoing threats from outside forces. In Ukrainian and English, respectively, the text of Kruger's upcoming work reads: 'ЩЕ ОДИН ДЕНЬ ЩЕ ОДНА НІЧ ЩЕ ОДНА ТЕМІНЬ ЩЕ ОДНЕ ЗАРЕВО ЩЕ ОДИН ЦІЛУНОК ЩЕ ОДИН БІЙ ЩЕ ОДНА ВТРАТА ЩЕ ОДИН ЗДОБУТОК ЩЕ ОДНЕ БАЖАННЯ ЩЕ ОДИН ГРІХ ЩЕ ОДНА ПОСМІШКА ЩЕ ОДНА СЛЬОЗА ЩЕ ОДНА НАДІЯ ЩЕ ОДИН СТРАХ ЩЕ ОДНА ЛЮБОВ ЩЕ ОДИН РІК ЩЕ ОДНА СУПЕРЕЧКА ЩЕ ОДНЕ ЖИТТЯ.' ' Another day another night another darkness another light another kiss another fight another loss another win another wish another sin another smile another tear another hope another fear another love another year another strife another life .' Barbara Kruger, Untitled (Another Again) 2025, Ukrainian Railways Intercity Train, Ukraine. courtesy of the artist, RIBBON International, Ukrainian Railways, and Sprüth Magers. photo: Vitalii Halanzha drawing from historic agit-trains of Ukraine Barbara Kruger finds precedent in the 'agit-trains' of Vasyl Yermylov's 1920s Ukraine, whose mobile art campaigns delivered revolutionary messages by rail. Kruger's intervention similarly travels through sites of survival and struggle, acknowledging the train's double role as both a physical vehicle and a symbolic one — carrying civilians, aid, memory, and hope through a fractured terrain. 'Untitled (Another Again)' launches against the backdrop of Ukraine's closed airspace and battered infrastructure, where rail lines remain critical arteries of movement. Beginning at Kyiv-Pasazhyrskyi Railway Station and traveling to Darnytsia Station, the work will continue along routes to Lviv, Kharkiv, and Kramatorsk — stations tied to the ongoing realities of war. Barbara Kruger, Untitled (Another Again) 2025, Ukrainian Railways Intercity Train, Ukraine. courtesy of the artist, RIBBON International, Ukrainian Railways, and Sprüth Magers. photo: Vitalii Halanzha Read More How to Export Figma to HTML, Best Free Plugins Barbara Kruger, Untitled (Another Again) 2025, Ukrainian Railways Intercity Train, Ukraine. courtesy of the artist, RIBBON International, Ukrainian Railways, and Sprüth Magers. photo: Vitalii Halanzha Barbara Kruger, Untitled (Another Again) 2025, Ukrainian Railways Intercity Train, Ukraine. courtesy of the artist, RIBBON International, Ukrainian Railways, and Sprüth Magers. photo: Vitalii Halanzha
CairoScene
03-05-2025
- Entertainment
- CairoScene
The Art School Dropout Edit
They never finished the degree, but they always understood the assignment. You've seen them. Sitting on pavement outside a gallery, sketchbook in one hand, a cigarette or iced oat latte in the other. They talk in references - Barbara Kruger, Sally Rooney, Rei Kawakubo - and they wear their clothes like walking critiques of conformity. They might don thrifted oversized jackets with shoulder pads that don't sit quite right, paint-streaked trousers that used to be beige but now lean toward 'off-white with history of stains and spills,' and T-shirts screen printed with something ironic, maybe even in Times New Roman. The fashion history of the art school misfit finds its grounds in rebellion. In the '60s, they wore beat-up denim and army surplus coats, channeling the anti-war student. In the '90s, it was grunge and deconstruction, like Martin Margiela's threadbare seams or Yohji Yamamoto's academic draping. Today, their look is an archive of eras - Dickies workwear meets Schiaparelli earrings, a vintage Céline tote. They dress like they read theory for breakfast and don't care about trends, even though they're constantly setting them. This edit is for the misfits, and the ones who dropped out - not because they couldn't hack it, but because the classroom was too small. It's for those who live in between critique sessions and underground zine fairs. Those who treat clothing like a medium, and getting dressed like a daily project brief. So no, it's not polished. It's layered. Intuitive. Slightly chaotic in the best way. Welcome to the wardrobe of the art school dropout - who may or may not still have their student ID for the museum and library discount. Jessica K | The Roman Jacket, Cabiria Corset & Mago Pants This satin set plays with contrast - between softness and structure, heritage and now. The Roman jacket and argyle corset offer texture without shouting. It's tailored nostalgia, repurposed for the dropout who sketches in gold ink. Medina | Maison Mohair Beanie This mohair beanie reads cozy at first glance, but look closer - it's full of cryptic texture and punk softness, fitting right in with the dropout's undone uniform. Mallakä | The Bedazzled Flannel I This piece features a familiar silhouette glitched with unexpected sparkle. This oversized flannel is the dropout's take on small-town nostalgia, remixed with stage-light fantasy. It's worn best while staying in, daydreaming out. Isis Dunya | Leopard Set This two-piece leopard set plays like a high-octane version of a teenage dream. Equal parts girlish and grounded, it's the dropout's answer to Y2K revival - worn with boots, bad posture, and a brilliant idea. Apoa | Rose Choker Equal parts pop-art and petal, this choker feels like a wearable sketch. It's delicate yet bold, soft yet strange - exactly the tension that defines the dropout's taste. Not Boring | Dating Season T-shirt Graphic and cheeky, this tee doesn't take itself too seriously - which is why it works. A nod to suburban rebellion and skater energy, it's the perfect dropout staple. Irony sold separately. Precious Trust | Workwear Pearls Jacket This jacket wears like a film still - gritty, brooding, and edited in grayscale. It's a wearable monologue from the dropout who dropped acid before critique day. It has just the right mix of angst and artistry. Mozari Jewels | Hag El Laila Rings There's a charm in wearing your colour theory on your fingers. These cabochon-cut flower rings from Mozari feel like relics from a folkloric daydream. They're the kind of statement you'd make after ditching design school for a jewellery bench. Proud Angeles | Not Proud Polo With its oversized fit and tongue-in-cheek slogan, this Proud Angeles polo leans into post-ironic streetwear. The airplane motif and sport stripes feel like a sketchbook doodle that made it big. Raw the Label | Denim Set in Light Dirty Shade This denim-on-denim moment turns washed-out blues into something sculptural. Raw the Label's matching set echoes the utilitarian lines of workwear but sits somewhere between wearable and installation. Nöl Collective | The Mina The rust-toned corduroy jacket feels tactile and rooted - like something you'd sew in your studio apartment between theory lectures. Handmade in a refugee camp and dyed naturally, the look bridges craft, story, and statement. It wears like a soft protest. Coddiewomple | CW Crewneck Milan This piece looks like it was made in a basement silkscreen studio on a caffeine high. Styled with clashing layers, it's a nod to that art student energy - half-styled, half-accidental, and all self-aware. It's merch for your imaginary band and the final year project rolled into one. Suez Studio | Khayamiya Crescent Jacket This Suez Studio jacket incorporates hand-stitched khayamiya panels into a crisp modern silhouette. Its heritage technique reimagined as outerwear - clean, graphic, but deeply textured, perfect for the dropout who still honors the source. Menage 07 | Volume 5 Beanie This beanie punctured with metal eyelets has the energy of a late-night design experiment gone right. It balances punk utility with precision shape - genderless, seasonless, and full of texture. Double A | Beckett Leather Waist Belt Brown With asymmetrical panels and blunt metal studs, this belt could double as a sculpture in your thesis show. It's the kind of accessory that doesn't just cinch - it directs the entire look. Anippe | Freesia Top This sheer yellow mesh top toes the line between daring and playful. The asymmetrical panels and exposed structure give it an experimental edge, and the high-cut silhouette hints at dancewear. BLSSD | Oversized Silk Blazer Dress Warning: do not paint with this on. A pristine white oversized blazer reworked into a dress, worn with textured gaiters - this look plays with proportion like a sculptor plays with clay. It's minimal, yet confrontational. Rafa Earth | Crochet Fishnet Shawl Delicate and conceptual, this piece literally wraps you in metaphor. The fishnet veil and shimmering underlayer merge textile and narrative - a nod to patience, process, and ritual. Rebel Cairo | Feline Open-Back Linen Dress A wild cut in a domesticated print, this linen mini captures the chaos of a thesis meltdown and the thrill of ditching it. Unapologetically sassy, it's for the dropout who turned their final into a performance piece. Steffy Gamayel | Mystique Cardigan A crocheted patchwork of mismatched stripes and striking colour clashes, this cardigan has the soul of a sketchbook. Handmade but not precious, it feels like a wearable collage from a textile student's final project. Brown Toast | Dissociation XL Tote Oversized, screen-printed, and a little too honest, this tote reads like an overexposed zine you'd pick up at a student-run gallery. Its XL size fits a sketchpad, your trauma, and a half-finished manifesto. Antreprima & Bea Bongiasca Jewellery | Wire Bag & Colourful Jewellery This beaded wire bag and jewellery are part toy, and entirely unserious in the best way. They're the kind of accessories an art school dropout grabs on the way to a manga exhibit or a rave-themed performance piece. Functional? Barely. Expressive? Entirely.
