It is a whirling text which instinctively launches itself down the streets of Buenos Aires, only stopping to ask questions about man’s inclination toward structure and the relationship between autonomy and reality.
Taking place in the underbellies of Paris and London from the late 1960s to the early 1970s, among the 1968 French student riots and the Brian Jones-era Rolling Stones, Dusty Pink does not so much live in its time as it fetishizes it and then relishes in its fetish.
What is known about Laurie Bird? In total, it’s far from enough information to be a basis for “knowing”, both in the sense of knowing about her and personally knowing her.
Beatriz Bracher’s protagonist Gustavo becomes aware of his own dissociative tendencies and begins to address his past and work through his shame and traumatic experiences under torture. I Didn’t Talk is a cheeky and patient book, gently confronting pain without sacrificing wit, a book which merges together a fraught past and an uncertain future.
The following interview is pieced together from a recorded interview with the poet, scholar, and educator Nick Sturm at the Lean Draft House in Atlanta, GA. It was made at a picnic table. Nick Sturm studies “second-generation” New York School poets, writes poetry, collects mimeographed literature, and is a Marion L. Brittain Postdoctoral Fellow in the School of Language, Media, and Communication at the Georgia Institute of Technology.
To "reject progress", in Moschovakis’s terms, is not necessarily to degress (although it may appear to be degression within the framework of progress), but to reject the framework of progress itself. As an alternative, Moschovakis proposes the notion of “getting up”, to become unstuck, to arise from the lethargy of entrapping habits.
Eve is a staunch defender of Los Angeles, the Los Angeles underneath tourist impressions and artificial facades, the Los Angeles of pachuco and surfer subcultures, glamour, sunshine, and stumbled-upon elegance. To each person who calls Los Angeles a wasteland, she says to them, you don’t know this place like I do.
…the narrator’s flashbacks into her Berlin past, her escapades with a pianist and a paratrooper, her escapades which are maybe romantic and maybe artistic, they remind me of my own escapades and the souls which come up like flashbacks when I wanted too much or too little and which shaped my development as an artist.
Aggressively Gentle seems to be penned as much to the emptiness of the world as to an abstract object of desire.
Atlanta artist Hannah Adair’s work rides the line between cosmic landscape, mythological figure, and abstraction of the psyche as if those things are naturally all the same. It is an experiment in repetition and transformation, as she constantly shifts the meanings of form by reintroducing images in different contexts, always prompting reinterpretation.
Who was it set for? There is evidence of them, humans. There must have been someone... although plates are set out as if for a guest, no chairs are available. There must have been someone? If not to sit, then, to set. The evidence of humans without their presence seems to place the paintings in an abandoned future scenario.
Among the astonishing mass of communication, of thoughts and emotions, that we have access to in our contemporary world, so little is heard and even less retained.
If this is Lynch’s surrender of autonomy to a cult leader, it is still admirable, still a profound human experience.
Re-watching Juno a decade on is a jarring trip down memory lane, illuminated by the conventions of today. I was struck by how, in spite of the crush on Ellen Page I shared with so many girls coming into their sexuality, I was oblivious to her dykish cues, so obvious from her walk alone.