Could a person loom at once so large and so small? Whole lives, immense feats and works pass in a matter of pages. Vast archival sources are whittled down to a sentence or two.
The Mourners. I don’t know exactly when I first discovered these 15th-century sculptures made to decorate the tomblike memorials of the Dukes of Burgundy. Carved in pale alabaster, nearly devoid of color, these diminutive monk-like figures fascinated me.
We urgently need contemporary, cross-generational stories, told by people without power, full of complex and complicated ecosystems, humans, and companion species.
In November 2016, a King Tide brought an octopus into a parking garage, where it lay, like a stemless flower, splayed on concrete as gray as its drying skin.
Instead of Studio he took me way over to the west side, the gayest part of the Village, to the Paradise Garage. If he wasn’t gay how did he even venture onto that block? It was the late ’70s, when the art of cruising had finally been perfected...
As a lightweight behind-the-scenes look at a critically acclaimed television series, Jill Soloway’s new memoir She Wants It: Desire, Power, and Toppling the Patriarchy is just south of worth purchasing at the airport.
Did Stephen Varble ever ask anyone’s permission to do anything? Doubtful. He came from a generation that understood you can never risk the chance of being excluded, shut down, told no—because you had been.
I’d been home for two days and Noo was still missing. On my second morning back, my roommate Kyle came out of his room saying: “It smells like something died...”
Sarah dumped a mess of mp3s from Liz Phair’s Girly-Sound tapes onto my computer I think during summer 2012, when we lived together on a summer break from college.
The trite aestheticization of pain as image, as representation without source, undermines the nuanced interplay between material culture and subjectivity, trauma and shelter.