BOMB 147 Spring 2019
The insurgent Argentine documentarian’s retrospective screens at Anthology Film Archives from February 22 through 28.
The story is contagious and the imaging tells it…
In New York, everything sounds back to Vietnam…
On stage and in the studio, Kwak (aka Xina Xurner) summons bodies, objects, and energies that flourish at the “seams of the illusions of fixed identity.”
The pioneering filmmakers discuss morality and dissent in Hara’s highly subjective documentaries: “It takes a toll to discover what binds your heart to the subject.”
Constructed from humble materials, the artist’s improvisational interventions are meditations on space and light.
The recent conclusion of the choreographer’s trilogy, Water Will (in Melody), employs mime, gothic imagery, and a Grimm tale, to consider entanglements of nature, the feminine, and blackness.
Coaxing elegies from tape loops, the composer propels us from the San Fernando Valley to deep space, then into “the long-form beyond.”
El Salvador’s foremost living poet reflects on a long career, from his involvement in revolutionary literary activities of the ’60s and ’70s to grappling with today’s political and educational crises.
My mother sits on a coral reef, her gray hair undulating around her head, face blank, her eyes like a fish’s…
When we were first married, he went out and bought a ball gag.
He knows where a man’s heart is on display…
They found my mother’s first cousin frozen in a rented cabin up in New Hampshire, not far from where he’d gone to prep school. A smart kid, Bernard enrolled at Harvard on a math scholarship in the fall of 1973.
My blood a prophet in a medieval castle with his people—been flogged in the streets / books burned / driven out of town by an angry / mob
I dreamed of home invasion, and of a great celebrity / hidden inside a series of rooms, each hermetically / separated by glossy, voice-activated doors, each / bordered on both sides by facsimile rooms, identical
the call to prayer plays on a victrola. the vinyl sat so long on an ellington…
The secrets are boxed within. That’s what I thought two years ago in Quezon City, where I was doing research at the University of the Philippines Center for Ethnomusicology.