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Michael Craig-Martin
Born in Ireland, the artist Michael Craig-Martin studied in America. On returning to the UK, he became a key figure in British conceptual art and an influential educator, linked in particular to the YBAs including Damien Hirst and Gary Hume. Craig-Martin's works transform recognisable objects - such as sneakers, headphones, watches and, most recently, Modernist buildings - with bold colour and simplified lines. He cites his 'rationalism' as the root of his practice. Craig-Martin is the latest subject of a three-year curatorial partnership between The Gallery at Windsor, Florida, and the Royal Academy of Arts, London, initiated to celebrate the Academy's 250th anniversary. This lively book re...
On Being an Artist
Celebrated artist and influential teacher Michael Craig-Martin's first book is a lively mix of reminiscence, personal manifesto, anecdote and advice for the aspiring artist in a new paperback edition Few living artists can claim to have had the influence of Michael Craig-Martin. Celebrated around the world for his distinctive work, and with major retrospectives, high-profile commissions and numerous honours to his name, he has also helped nurture generations of younger artists, among them Julian Opie, Damien Hirst, Sarah Lucas, Liam Gillick and Gary Hume. Often described as the godfather of the YBAs, he taught by combining personal example and individual guidance, offering students encourage...
The Professor, the Banker, and the Suicide King
The Players: the best poker professionals in the world The Challenger: a wealthy banker from Dallas The Game: the richest poker stakes of all time... In 2001, a rich stranger from Texas descended upon the high-stakes poker room in the opulent Bellagio casino in Las Vegas. A self-made billionaire by the name of Andy Beal, the stranger challenged some of the world's greatest poker players-including Doyle Brunson, Chip Reese, Howard Lederer, and Jennifer Harman-to heads-up matches in the richest poker game ever played This is that story... Beginning the scintillating contest that would shock the world of poker, Andy and each opponent had $1 million, betting $10,000 and $20,000 per round. As the...
Michael Craig Martin
Published to accompany an exhibition held at Irish Museum of Modern Art, Dublin, 4 October 2006 - 14 January 2007.
Michael Craig-Martin
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Michael Craig-Martin: Sculpture
This volume celebrates a new body of work by British artist Michael Craig-Martin--monumental, vividly colored sculptures that explore the nature of illusion and belief. Since the 1960s Michael Craig-Martin has developed a vocabulary of imagery based on common, everyday items. In drawings, paintings, installations, and sculptures, he has probed the relationship between objects and images, perception and reality. This book presents recent large-scale sculptures by the artist, produced with exacting draftsmanship and fabricated in powder-coated steel in vibrant shades. The elegant forms of these works appear like drawings in the air. Each three to four meters tall, they depict items ranging fro...
Michael Craig-Martin
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Michael Craig-Martin
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Can You Relax in My House
An isolate, protracted surrealism attaches languidly to objects, animals, and emotion in Michael E. Craig's poems of semi-rural outlandishness. Profundity takes its rightful place in the shallow arena: "You can't step out of your tragedy, it wouldn't be a tragedy./ Neither can I./ Together we walk/ and think thoughts in a cornfield. . . ./ A thing cries out from the interior of corn." The reader is embroiled in textural exposition, encountering dark recessions of realism against the relief of interior truth: "Today you strike me as needing something./ So take my ten-thousand-pound typewriter . . . / . . . For here is an older,/ other world, taking almost forty sheep to make one sock./ A serious mist fills my eye. You/ have made me cry." Winsome, ominous vapors arise from the combustion of "dreamish, autobiographical thoughts" with their counterpart, the cosmic laughter provoked by close observation. "A man had been out walking with a very long cigar./ As he passed by me, closely, I could see it/ was actually an eight-inch-long ash/ that he had, perched beautifully between his/ fingers. And that he had passed away./ And that his eyes were gone from his head."
