The Poetry Project’s “dedication to the amplification of radical imagination, oppositional thinking, and community building among writers, artists, and their audiences” makes its New Year’s Day Marathon Reading a perfect way to let go of all the lost voices and hopes of 2016 and to rebuild our fortitude, inoculate ourselves against the vitriol and demagoguery, and find the voices of a newly (re)forming counterculture.
luciana achugar curates Naomi Elena Ramirez & Oren Barnoy, Cynthia Oliver curates Lela Aisha Jones & Leslie Cuyjet – the sum of doubling double pluses is manifold.
Christmas in Nickyland and Reggie Wilson/Fist & Heel prove dancing and singing are practices of resilence and resistance.
With an impending Developer-in-Chief and First Son-in-Law eager to tear down historic buildings for the sake of more real estate profits, the preservation of buildings like 537 Broadway become essential. Kudos to Cathy for bringing it forward as the centerpiece and star of her latest work.
Searching For Kindred Spirits – a response to ‘My Name Is Gideon: I’m Probably Going To Die, Eventually’
Gideon welcomed audiences into a world that is built upon believing in the innate goodness of people.
Judy Hussie-Taylor, Ishmael Houston Jones, Will Rawls and over a 112 artists, undertook a labor of revisionist history and artistic accomplishment that is clearly one for the books historic…Lost and Found Ends, but WE WILL NOT REST IN PEACE.
These ugly feelings: disgust, animatedness, mourning, are radical in their fugitivity.
Our work tends to look back to look forward.
25 years ago, in a large room in the Gowanus Arts Building that stands just outside the window of my Gowanus apartment, the Gowanus Arts Exchange, founded by Marya Warshaw (who remains the executive director), started hosting rehearsals, performances, and classes. It sat just across
Aw man. I wish I was a kick ass Trumpet player or something.
Kafka’s: A Hunger Artist is, at its core, a show about a man whose only job–his life’s work–is to starve. However, I couldn’t help but see this starving man as a metaphor for so much more. It is simple and yet so profound. As an
They’re afraid of anything different from them or of what they see in me that maybe they see in themselves