BOMB 64 Summer 1998
Stellan Skarsgård is everywhere, from Breaking the Waves to Good Will Hunting and a tour de force performance in the thriller, Insomnia. Screenwriter Larry Gross charts the course from regional theater in Sweden to the big screen in Hollywood.
Few fiction writers have captured the painful realities of the Holocaust as well as Israeli writer Aharon Appelfeld. He speaks here of the power of memory, the power of the spirit, and the place of religion and homeland as he has come to know it.
Novelist Frederic Tuten draws out the two Eric Krafts: the writer of The Personal History, Adventures, Experiences & Observations of Peter Leroy, and his alter ego, Peter Leroy.
With his novel Gain, Richard Powers turns again to his millennial concerns: the velocity of progress, the intricate correspondence of the private and the historical, the search for the ground of ethics.
Cuban musician Jesús “Chucho” Valdés grew up listening to the legends: his father Ramon “Bebo” Valdés played with Nat King Cole and Erroll Garner at the famed Tropicana; the pioneers of Afro-Cuban jazz assembled and jammed in their home.
This veteran rocker still has a trick or two up his sleeve. He talks about his Live album, as well as a documentary by Timothy Greenfield-Sanders on his career.
Critics were spinning their wheels about Australian photographer Tracey Moffatt’s work because she hadn’t been talking. Coco Fusco leads Moffatt through a discussion of the madness in the method.
Amy Adler’s seamless mesh of the conceptual and the personal—intricate, photo-based figure drawing combined with the latest in computer-manipulated photography—has cut her a whole new groove in self-portraiture.
She was born to become one of the chosen ones, to belong to the great class of the Adlacunas. The High Priest selected them himself among the most beautiful girls born in the Inca Empire.
A blue-uniformed security guard on Gandara Street resists the afternoon heat’s seductive call by doing pushups, his legs propped on a chair, his upper torso alternately embracing and pushing away the concrete sidewalk. I
My daughter offered me a hundred
dollars to eat a dead moth
As Helen was dying, she dreamed that a man had been spying on her, lusting for her old body.
In the Platonic cave shadows dance with the visceral world. Making art of the simplest of materials—graphite, pigment, paper, gessoed bard—Mills’s drawings dance with the shadows.
Inka Essenhigh paints ambiguous figures engaged in mortal battle for sexual supremacy.
Jazz lovers will no doubt have all kinds of expectations of Ravi Coltrane’s debut recordingMoving Pictures (RCA Victor/BMG Classics), especially if they’ve never heard him play live during the past decade.
Amidst the questions arising from the debate over what constitutes “Opera,” Stewart Wallace and Michael Korie have supplied their answer with a conjoining of the American cultural id and American myth.
Driver 23 is RoIf Belgum’s poignant documentary account of Dan Cleveland, heavy metal rock ’n’ roller, modern day Sisyphus.
I drew my first breath at the Kingdom Hospital in Copenhagen. Many years later, my dear 94-year-old great-grandmother drew her last within those same walls, and that same year I spent my 22nd birthday there after my boyfriend had tried to open my inaugural oyster with scissors.
John Lurie is sort of the art equivalent of a heptathlete. A heptathlete is, I think, someone who competes in seven different athletic events, either that or it’s someone who performs feats of strength with their liver.
Danny Hoch hauled his one-man entourage to the room upstairs at PS122 for a solo performance of Jails, Hospitals, and Hip-Hop.
We all want unconditional love in our lives, but no one wants it more than Vincent Gallo, who plays Billy Brown in his emotionally fraught film Buffalo 66.
“Although I have been back to Paraguay several times,” wrote the late French anthropologist Pierre Clastres, “I have never seen the Guayaki Indians again. I have not had the heart to.”
Melanie Rae Thon’s masterful collection of short stories, is a testament to the struggling voices of runaways, drug addicts, and alcoholics.
Glenn always felt that to truly understand politics one has to understand the makings of a good party: let loose and get down now and then.
The Last of the African Kings traces the decline of a once noble African family who, under the leadership of “King” Behanzin, had the temerity to oppose French colonial rule and were exiled to distant Martinique in the French Caribbean.
What do John Ashbery, Carolyn Forché, James Agee, Robert Hass, Margaret Walker, James Tate, Olga Broumas, John Hollander, Adrienne Rich, Richard Kenney, W. S. Merwin, David Wojahn, Muriel Rukeyser, Alan Dugan, and James Wright have in common with 77 other poets, good, bad, and outstanding?
If The Yale Younger Poets Anthology did nothing more than return Joan Murray to print, it would be indispensable.
Hilarious to the point of the sheer ridiculous, and honest to the point of cringing, Dyer describes his vacillation in the minutest of details, aping his indecision with his confessional, near hypnotic prose.