BOMB 65 Fall 1998
American poet Yusef Komunyakaa and Irish poet Paul Muldoon talk of T. S. Eliot and racism, poetry and music, Native Americans and the self—as a writer and a reader—in a culture that is as global as it is specific.
Ian McKellen’s legendary performances have braced audiences for several decades. En route to LA to tackle Ibsen’s An Enemy of the People, Sir Ian McKellen, actor and activist, has a drink with playwright Scott Mendelsohn.
On the crest of the new British invasion, Sam Taylor-Wood’s surprising photographs and films catch their subjects in isolated moments, dramas, arguments. Her work is reminiscent of early Warhol, with an operatic style all her own.
“What is it like to make a painting?” inquires writer Francine Prose. An opaque question laid bare by painter Thomas Nozkowski, who lets us see the machinations of the mystery that can’t be solved.
According to Alexander Nehamas there is an art to living—it’s found in television, Montaigne and Nietzsche. Fellow philosopher David Carrier challenges Nehamas to explain what he means by the “philosophical life” and how writing fits into it.
Geoffrey O’Brien and Luc Sante unearth the subtext that was Times Square in the ’60s, “the round-the-clock festival of junk culture and lyrical sleaze.”
Clifford Ross’s paintographs appear to be seascapes, sumptuous black and white reflections. They are this and more.
The nature of Y. Z. Kami’s art is poetry, and the nature of poetry is essentially primordial.
He sits there and regards the waitress, wondering what she would think if she knew he occasionally followed her home; if she knew about the Window Trick; if she knew how her breath sometimes sped in the dark; how once he touched her sleeping throat and her back arched, or how she then rolled over.
He landed here last on no business, a Lockheed man in a Boeing town, so that night we parked at the river and watched it because he wanted it that way.
Using her architectural skills and her knowledge of industrial materials, Rita McBride pushes fine art into the world of politics, questioning the highly programmed experience of art viewing and creating work and catalogues that, in her own words, “don’t fit” in any category.
Fuzzie thinks she was the one who had the idea for the feast, but ever since Fuzzie’ s mother was shut up in a mental home and died in a fire, Fuzzie has been confused.
You strike me as a leader, says his father.
The boy turns his face—because the rest of him is being suited—toward his father who is raising buttered toast. What kind of leader?
The production and circulation of representations of the “self” was once considered a provenance of high art, and despite-mass media encroachment it is still contested territory.
Once you’ve listened to Lucinda Williams a few hundred times, she begins to seem like the older sister (or girlfriend) you always wanted—tough, traveled, knowing about unknowable things, out there.
Murray Bail’s Eucalyptus spins a people’s history and landscape through fairy tale. In a remote property in New South Wales, Australia, a widower promises his only daughter, a young woman of renowned beauty, to any suitor who can name every species of eucalyptus tree on his sprawling ranch
Supplicating myself to a higher responsibility, I resist that most inadequate critical urge: to quote.
Only a few years ago Fernando Pessoa was all but invisible in English. Now this outsider’s outsider looms as the latest icon of modern poetry.
In an early scene of Life is Beautiful, Guido (Benigni), an assimilated Jew, poses as a Fascist official in order to steal a moment with the woman he loves, and finds himself in the awkward position of having to expostulate on racial superiority to a room full of schoolchildren
Jim Grimsley is a dark, witty Southern writer. Making no apologies for being tough, Grimsley dives headlong into heated contemporary issues such as religion, family, and same-gender sex.