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This book explores the year 1971, when two exhibitions opened that brought modernist painting and sculpture into the burning heart of United States cultural politics: Contemporary Black Artists in America, at the Whitney Museum of American Art, and The DeLuxe Show, a racially integrated abstract art exhibition presented in a renovated movie theater in a Houston ghetto. The book looks at many black artists' desire to gain freedom from overt racial representation, as well as their efforts—and those of their advocates—to further that aim through public exhibition. Amid calls to define a “black aesthetic,” these experiments with modernist art prioritized cultural interaction and instability. Contemporary Black Artists in America highlighted abstraction as a stance against normative approaches, while The DeLuxe Show positioned abstraction in a center of urban blight. The importance of these experiments, the book argues, came partly from color's special status as a cultural symbol and partly from investigations of color already under way in late modern art and criticism. With their supporters, black modernists—among them Peter Bradley, Frederick Eversley, Alvin Loving, Raymond Saunders, and Alma Thomas—rose above the demand to represent or be represented, compromising nothing in their appeals for interracial collaboration and, above all, responding with optimism rather than cynicism to the surrounding culture's preoccupation with color.

Art historians have long looked to letters to secure biographical information, affirm patronage patterns, and establish the identity of an artist as a modern, self-aware individual. But letters are also objects that endure episodes of travel, and are sometimes rerouted to reach readerships that far exceed the scope of their initial intent. As agents of communication, letters are uniquely poised to provide analogies for how works of art address their audiences. In a period before the establishment of a reliable public postal system, handwritten correspondences faced interception and delay. The printing press threatened to expose intimate exchanges, disturbing relationships of privacy to publicity. These risks sharpened during the volatile years of the Reformation. Summoning evidence of the complicated travel patterns of sixteenth-century missives, Brisman argues that uncertainties surrounding the sending and receiving of letters shaped how Germany’s most famous artist conceived of the communicative efficacies of the work of art. Albrecht Dürer’s success was due in large part, she argues, to his development of pictorial strategies that lure the mind of the distanced beholder. Balancing intimacy with publicity and immediacy with delay, Dürer’s images mimic the letter’s ability to connect author and recipient through dialectics of advertisement and concealment.

Cruising the Dead River traces the queer history of the cruising ground of Manhattan’s West Side piers in the 1970s and early 1980s, arguing that the ruined buildings that dominated this queer landscape assumed a powerful erotic role in the cruising that took place there in the late 1970s and the art that was produced in and about this site, sparking a sense of erotic connection between past and present, land and sea. Drawing upon the art and writing of David Wojnarowicz, and incorporating discussions of art, activism, poetry, performance, and film, this book posits that the pleasure of the ruin cannot be seperated from the complex, sometimes violent, forces of urban regeneration and social cleansing that were reshaping the waterfront in the pre-AIDS era, which have been obscured as the neighbourhoods were gentrified in the AIDS crisis years that followed.

Throughout the history of European modernism, philosophers and artists have been fascinated by madness. Something different happened in Brazil, however, with the “art of the insane” that flourished within the modernist movements there. From the 1920s to the 1960s, the direction and creation of art by the mentally ill was actively encouraged by prominent figures in both medicine and art criticism, which led to a much wider appreciation among the curators of major institutions of modern art in Brazil, where pieces are included in important exhibitions and collections. Kaira M. Cabañas shows that at the center of this advocacy stood such significant proponents as psychiatrists Osório César and Nise da Silveira, who championed treatments that included painting and drawing studios; and the art critic Mário Pedrosa, who penned Gestaltist theses on aesthetic response. Cabañas examines the lasting influence of this unique era of Brazilian modernism, and how the afterlife of this “outsider art” continues to raise important questions. How do we respect the experiences of the mad as their work is viewed through the lens of global art? Why is this art reappearing now that definitions of global contemporary art are being contested? Learning from Madness offers an invigorating series of case studies that track the parallels between psychiatric patients’ work in Western Europe and its reception by influential artists there, to an analogous but altogether distinct situation in Brazil.

A thematic and gendered history of post-war American ceramics, this book focuses on three American women ceramists, Marguerite Wildenhain (1896-1985), a Bauhaus-trained potter who taught form as process without product at her summer craft school Pond Farm; Mary Caroline (M.C.) Richards (1916-1999), who renounced formalism at Black Mountain College in favor of a therapeutic model she pursued outside academia; and Susan Peterson (1925-2009), who popularized ceramics through live throwing demonstrations on public television in 1964-65. These artists utilized ceramics as a conduit for social contact through teaching, writing, and the performance of their medium. At mid-century, functional pottery was more than just an art form, it was a lifestyle, offering mid-century women extraordinary autonomy, both economically and socially, through experimental artistic communities that were collective in nature. Ceramics offers a compelling site for examining the sexism and media hierarchies embedded in modernist art histories. It became a viable alternative to the mainstream, urban art worlds of New York City and Los Angeles, a space in which women could innovate, teach, and create lasting pedagogical structures. This unorthodox, largely rural livelihood was beholden to the formal requirements of the craft: the making, storage, and firing of ceramic wares. The medium itself was ill-suited to an urban setting: strict fire codes made kilns illegal in most cities. Pottery’s emphasis on self-sufficient rural living offered proto-feminist women the opportunity to live and teach in cooperative, experimental, and self-initiated communities.