In The News: Marjorie Barrick Museum of Art
Now in its third year, the Bus to the Barrick program provides free transportation for K-12 Clark County School District children to visit UNLV’s Marjorie Barrick Museum of Art. Most of the students in attendance have never been to an art museum prior to their field trip, and without free transportation and admission, many of them wouldn’t be able to afford the experienc
Now in its third year, the Bus to the Barrick program provides free transportation for K-12 Clark County School District children to visit UNLV’s Marjorie Barrick Museum of Art. Most of the students in attendance have never been to an art museum prior to their field trip, and without free transportation and admission, many of them wouldn’t be able to afford the experience.
When people talk about the arts and entertainment world in Las Vegas, they are often talking about the Strip. But alongside entertainment on the Strip, there’s an active arts community in our neighborhoods.
Sorry for the Mess, a joint exhibition by Justin Favela and Ramiro Gomez, is an eye-opener. The 4,000-square-foot installation at UNLV’s Barrick Museum pays homage to the 85,000 Las Vegas casino employees who wash dishes, vacuum floors, clean rooms and mow lawns. Packed with sculptures and paintings made on-site (some in collaboration with Barrick Museum staff), Sorry for the Mess delivers wit, relevance and beauty.
Both as an artist and as the newly permanent executive director of the Barrick Museum of Art, Alisha Kerlin has been fixated on the moment of viewership: the thoughts and feelings you have when first viewing a piece of art. That’s a big upside of her job directing Las Vegas’ only existing art museum. “It’s such a privilege to do that,” she says. “I love that we’ve created a welcoming and safe place for dialogue here."
Alisha Kerlin holds up a white 3D print of a 2,000-year-old Mesoamerican animal sculpture like a proud mom at a soccer game. “I have a very intimate relationship with this collection,” she beams. For the duration of our museum tour, she carries the replica around, clutching it under her arm like a football. “I didn’t realize his toe was broken,” she says, as if she should have traveled back in time 2 millennia to stop the damage. If she could, she would.
Someone in the impromptu barbershop quartet jokes about performance art being “all bullshit,” setting off a rumble of laughter in an audience of artists, performers, art lovers, and writers, all familiar with the conflicted nature of the medium. It’s another evening of RADAR, a new, regular Downtown performance event. Frequently not as palatable as more traditional painting and sculpture, nor easily defined or understood, performance art can be a difficult medium to establish in a local art community, though it’s been a fixture in some cities for years. Still, it’s natural that an art movement such as this would grow in the shadow of the Strip — and it feels long overdue.
Artwork by more than 50 artists — including paintings, print material, photography, video and fashion — showcases artistic and cultural movements from the late 1960s to the 1990s in the traveling exhibition “Axis Mundo: Queer Networks in Chicano L.A.” UNLV’s Marjorie Barrick Museum of Art, 4505 S. Maryland Parkway. unlv.edu/barrickmuseum
One of the nation’s top art exhibitions opens this week at UNLV’s Barrick Museum of Art, which is taking the opportunity to cement connections to the broader Southern Nevada community.
As the sun sets on summer, the fall cultural season is just getting started. Plan your outings with our handpicked collection of great art, music, literature, theater, and festival events!
The Barrick Museum’s lively Jubilation Inflation is a show about the body—your body. Your impossible stillness and irrepressible movement, your dutiful lungs, your eyes irresistibly drawn to a rolling orange, your ears deciphering a modulation that you can’t quite place. Is it the sound of wind streaming through leaves? Frying eggs?
“Do you get vertigo?” the curator of the exhibition asks me as she pulls open the Velcro seam of the inflated blob. Inside, the nylon fabric lifts around me, plumped by an air stream pumped in near the floor. She thinks of this work as a feminist James Turrell—maybe she has in mind his Aten Reign (2013)—an expansive environment, like a womb, but lightweight and portable. She says, “We’ve been calling them vessels.”