BOMB 124 Summer 2013
Fairport Convention helped to bring traditional music into British folk rock back in the ’60s. Connolly traces Thompson’s evolving style from his Fairport days to his latest solo album, Electric.
Matías Piñeiro makes intricate films that play with literature, history and language. His Shakespearean Viola opens on July 12 at the Film Society of Lincoln Center alongside a retrospective of his films.
Greenbaum on the fundamentally personal and private process of creating art, and how modernism, rage and rebellion fuel her creativity.
Visionary artist and poet Gyula Kosice on how he has tried to reconcile “the language of the diction” and “the language of form, volume, and the kinetic.”
Fiona Maazel on her second novel, Woke Up Lonely, and how its apocalyptic themes of loneliness and emotional isolation are reflected in its unique, fractured structure.
Phillip Lopate has had a good year, publishing To Show and To Tell: The Craft of Literary Nonfiction and Portrait Inside My Head. He spoke with Sharlin about humor, honesty, and his identity as a native New Yorker.
Before I met Abraham Cruzvillegas, more than once I’d heard curator Clara Kim mention in passing that he was a special person. This piqued my curiosity.
“To be honest I don’t really read magazines … I’d much rather read a classic like Madame Bovary,” Iris tells an HR rep from Maxim magazine in the comically disastrous job interview that opens Smyles’s debut novel, Iris Has Free Time.
On New Year’s Eve 1980, I watched the new-wave band Human Sexual Response perform at the now defunct Boston Phoenix. I was 14 and my sister and her classmates from the Massachusetts College of Art snuck me past security.
It’s a rare delight when a film makes a little-known, hermetic community that is bristling with traditions, customs, rules, and regulations come alive, transcending that subculture through its humanity.
The 17th-century townhouses that Gordon Matta-Clark and his friends chipped away at in Conical Intersect (1975) did not collapse immediately—like, say, flimsy clapboard ranch styles built where neighborhood site plans had been rushed and mistaken.
Imagine that the place you call home is no more, not just your house or apartment, but the entirety of your surroundings, including ideological ones. What if borders that were once maintained by thick concrete slabs and barbed wire suddenly disappeared?
“Vita brevis, sensus ebes, negligentiae torpor et inutiles occupationes nos paucula scire permittent. Et aliquotients scita excutit ab animo per temporum lapsum frudatrix scientiae et inimica memoriae praeceps oblivio.”
To the repentant philantropist / the blood runs short. / He drinks only the paste, the paste / of oxygen.
Rainey locks herself into the ladies’ room of the Madison Gardens coffee shop, not far from the Met.
Remember that time we stood in the surf
and mourned its havoc before it was gone,
Meanwhile the Corinthians completed their preparations and sailed for Corcyra with a hundred and fifty ships. Of these Elis furnished ten, Megara twelve, Leucas ten, Ambracia twenty-seven—
sea fairy, sea wizard, water-horse, sea-queen
picked clean on long conveyor belts and sorted by shape and size
An Obstacle to Empathy
I am conducting an interview with a general who is in the process of authorizing an invasion of a country that borders both his and mine.