

Theaster Gates by Tom McDonough
“I like to work very hard,” Theaster Gates remarks in the following conversation, which just might be the understatement of the year.

The Polish artist recently mounted a new participatory installation on Hydra Island in Greece, where Nell McClister prompted him to talk about the core of his collaborative projects: community, experimentation, and spirituality.

When I arrived in London this past September to meet Adam Broomberg and Oliver Chanarin at their studio, the first thing we discussed was the power play between interviewer and interviewee.

Martin Wilner is an artist and psychiatrist. For his ongoing Case Histories—a series of portraits each completed over the course of a month—subjects send him daily dispatches that are woven into the drawings. Novelist Francis Levy calls the process “a mini analysis of sorts.”

Composer Paola Prestini is the creative director of the soon-to-open Original Music Workshop. With vocalist Helga Davis, she elaborates on her Italian and Mexican background and her collaborations with artists of other disciplines.

The Catalan author of The No World Concerto talks about his early collaborations with Roberto Bolaño and the slew of novels that followed a lengthy hiatus from writing.

American-born French director applies the paradox of the Baroque worldview to the composition of his films, and most recently, to La Sapienza. Nicholas Elliott probes Green’s interest in the tension between spirit and reason.

With official-seeming letters folded next to staged photographs, the project moves fluently between the evidentiary and the fanciful.

For the past decade my sense of Bethany Ides’s work was based on hearsay, bits and scraps, or long distance perception.
a lovers’ knot the chancellor / resembles at foot towards / cliff / fuck the presumed / mountain
Woodchuck was wandering on a path through woods one day when his leg caught in some vines.
This article is only available in print.
Leonard changed lanes without using his blinker, as was his habit.
“The island’s not that big,” says Branko’s wife Djurdjica as she fills his cup with thick, strong coffee.
Pier Paolo Pasolini’s Selected Poetry, Edited and Translated by Stephen Sartarelli by Jonas Mekas
That summer, that hot Roman summer afternoon, I see you sitting on the curb, waiting for the door to open, & seeing all those movies, yes, that hot Roman summer day.

On his second stop at Wood Street Galleries, Icelandic artist Finnbogi Petursson returns with Second/Second, his first solo US exhibition, featuring two large installations involving sound, light, and water.

One way to understand the work of Erik Satie is to imagine a place somewhere between two opposite artistic poles: James McNeill Whistler and Robert Filliou.

Kate Soper’s Here Be Sirens explores, through beautiful harmonies and curious discords, the constraint of fixed roles and the desire to release oneself from them through the activity of research—finding the origin of the fixed identity being key to redefining and freeing oneself.

Takashi Makino’s thirty-minute film 2012—screened as part of the New York Film Festival’s Projections series in October—drenches the audience with sounds of prolonged resonant scraped string textures and images of shimmering blue clouds of drifting particles.

“Who speaks in the work of Samuel Beckett?” asks Simon Critchley in his probing 1998 essay on the nature of the Irish writer’s narrative voice.
