The spacing of Documentas at half-decade increments foreshortens historic time to match personal time. At a vantage of five years, we are aware both of how it felt then, and everything that’s changed since.
The fire started in Brandi Twilley’s bedroom. No one was home, except the cats. Maybe one of them had knocked something onto the ancient space heater with the missing ceramic plates and it sparked, lit.
dOGUMENTA is America's first art show for dogs. Not of or by dogs, but for dogs. 78 million American canines hungry for culture.
It’s always hard for me to identify exactly what it is about a person that compels me toward them in death, and I suppose my usual conclusion is that examining the tragedies or addictions or heartaches of a stranger makes it easier to understand my own.
Behind the stage, video flashed the expected Rastafarian iconography—spinning pot leaves, lions with majestic manes, Marcus Garvey and Haile Selassie—but interspersed throughout was dash-cam footage of downtown Indy.
In 1999 I met Marie in the southwest of France. Tall, straight blond hair that cascaded down her back, rapturous blue eyes, mischievous big smile—she got a lot of attention from men, and I felt lucky to have hers.
To collect is to draw things towards ourselves over time, to study and learn from them, to see what they elicit, one from another, not to engage in a continuous and expedient dispersal.
How will we understand the long narrative arcs of our lives if films themselves no longer have these arcs? How can we be the stars of our own dramas, if films no longer have dramas or stars?
It’s worth noting that today’s influx of red shoes on the runway are not Mary Janes or pumps, but boots in sturdy materials—a socialist twist on a classic prop.
I was only nine years old, but Chile's coup and the events that led up to it are seared with the permanence of a cattle brand into my memory.