Summation

As this is my final post, I would like to make a list of artists from the second half of the course that I feel were the 'significant' ones.

Philip Guston, who used to be such a good artist.

Mark Tansey's humourous puns on the art world, a chicken staring into a mirror.

Francesco Clemente, one of the Three Cs and the dive into the forbidden: decoration and portraiture! (Oh, my!)

Anselm Kiefer's haunting landscapes. The expressionist and the figurative can be one.

Gerhard Richter's squeegees, painted over photos and post-WWII Germany.

Sigmar Polke -- pluralism defined. One day we'll figure out his Alice trip.

Cindy Sherman and the constructed photograph.

Sherrie Levine's simulacra.

Richard Prince's cowboys and hidden advertisements.

Barbara Kruger doesn't need another hero.

Jeff Wall's charged drama in baroque narratives.

Ken Lum is Candi Sweet: he always makes me laugh, then makes me think.

Gregory Crewdson's surreal suburbia. I dare say that he may be my personal favourite of the photographers.

Sandy Skoglund's neon reverse-theatricality.

Doug & Mike Starn's uncanny valley of tactile photographs.

Andres Serrano: piss Christs, hobos and suicides.

Andreas Gursky and his ability to really capture what these modern spaces are like: consumerist claustrophobia.

Edward Burtynsky's manufactured landscapes.

Robert Gober's move in a Duchampian chess game.

Rachel Whiteread and her personal narratives in plaster: my introduction to the YBAs many years ago.

Phoebe Washburn's unmonumental waves of recycled junk.

Tara Donovan's magical environments of the banal: truly making the ordinary extraordinary.

Brian Jungen's native prototypes of the appropriated: I'll never forget the gasp from the class when his Prince flashed onto the screen.

Damien Ortega's organic modernism.

Ranjani Shettar and the ethereal beauty of her fragile works. Another favourite of the class.

Tony Oursler's uncanny projections.

David Altmejd -- Canadian superstar of posthumanism.

Mary Kelly: the feminist artist.

Jana Sterbak and her infamous dresses.

Mona Hatoum: light and darkness immersing us into what we are woefully ignorant of.

Marc Quinn's truly intimate self-portraits.

Charles Ray's boxes, shelves and mannequins: breaking boundaries with a sardonic wit.

Robert Gober's cottaging legs.

Ron Mueck's hyper-realistic sculptures and the fragility of life.

Maurizio Cattelan, who I'm pretty sure is going to hell.

Damien Hirst's dead shark and pigs, the bane of the Stuckists and my source of eternal giggles.

Patricia Piccinini and her disturbing GM creatures.

Glenn Brown appropriating every portrait you can imagine.

Cecily Brown's pluralism of paint.

Matthew Ritchie's steel drawings, endless textbooks and trying to fit everything he knows into the world.

And finally,

Cai Guo-Qiang's sublime explosions: a magical way to finish.