The objects could be anything generative, and Heather’s choices are varied, sophisticated, heartfelt, and a fascinating insight into what interests this artist.
This idea of American desire and what’s encapsulated in that is this reckoning, but, also holding the truths of being white in American culture means you have to hold the history of being an oppressor. But, then, how do you hold that?
In the alchemic container that is Weird Classrooms, anyone’s expertise becomes compelling.
Jeremy M. Barker and Matthew Goulish discuss Every house has a door’s “The Three Matadores”
The impacts of grief, however miniscule or massive, are the focus of “Submerge 2017: Break Time”, a festival curated primarily by Ali Rosa-Salas. Interested in the ways in which “we” are “permitted” to grieve in public space and, as the curatorial statement offers, a concern on the “expectation to bounce back,” Rosa-Salas has assembled an enriching near week of events, ranging from breath work to brunch to bike rides, in recognition of the ways the personal is political; the ways we are alone with others; and the ways in which everything, art or otherwise, is necessarily interdependent.
The moment it becomes legible, it becomes something else.
This place where language is familiar because of airports and tampon boxes and online preachers and being cat-called and the slow drip of consumer rhetoric.
“Roberto Bolano’s appearance in the world is great for Latin American literature, for Latin American writers,” Javier Antonio Gonzalez, playwright and artistic director of the theater company Caborca, told me recently. “Even though his work is celebrated everywhere and people connect to it all over
A long time into the future, slowly: Emily Johnson’s “Then a Cunning Voice and A Night We Spend Gazing at Stars”
“There is no end to the work we begin here.”
This January I had the privilege of seeing Saori Tsukada and Nikki Appino’s CLUB DIAMOND at the Public Theater’s Under the Radar festival. The work uses various forms of storytelling (live performance, silent film, musical composition, scrappy street theater) to speak deeply about our collective
/VANITAS/ unpacks our inextricable and very physical connection to, and at times our embodiment of, the web. At the start, one performer picks up a small gray square, which transforms into a mirror, revealing for the audience their own reflection: look at yourself! Characters emerge
Benson’s voiceover technique does all the good stuff and almost none of the bad stuff that you usually get from utilizing a narrator in the theater.