BOMB 66 Winter 1999
Downtown, no-wave, rock, free-prov guitarist Marc Ribot ventures intrepid into “prosthetic” Cubanismo on his album Marc Ribot y Los Cubanos Postizos. David Krasnow asks: “What’s this Jewish guy from Jersey doing playing the son montuno?”
Stuart Horodner speaks with Janine Antoni on the limits of significance, lard, chocolate, and polysomnograph machines in this 1999 interview.
Until her 1998 retrospective at the Museum of Modern Art, artist Yayoi Kusama was one of the art world’s best kept secrets. Her infinity nets, phallic sculptures, and nude performances influenced Cornell, Oldenburg, and Warhol.
Gary Sinise may have migrated to Hollywood, but it’s not all glitter and confetti for the long-time actor/director. From the trenches of Chicago’s Steppenwolf Theatre to the dazzle of a De Palma blockbuster, Sinise is a straight-up actor’s actor.
Danish director Thomas Vinterberg’s film The Celebration resembles Greek tragedy with a twist—influenced by French New Wave and The Godfather, winner of the Jury’s Prize at Cannes, its production was dictated by the neo-manifesto DOGMA 95.
Poet Simon Ortiz and Tribal Councilman Petuuche Gilbert on Indian country—the Acoma Pueblo—memory, history, and colonialism.
English writer Jenny Diski’s Skating to Antarctica, part memoir, part travelogue, created a critical stir of approval upon its release. What her American audience might not realize is that she’s a prolific novelist.
Novelist Michael Cunningham’s The Hours splices together a day in the lives of three women in a stunning tour de force. The author discusses the incongruities of life and the fluidity of literary influence with writer Justin Spring.
In Janet Zweig’s kinetic sculpture there are uneasy juxtapositions between the ancient and the modern, the mechanical and the emotional, the playful and the dead serious.
On its own terms, my project with them developed a gentle
My father was eating pizza across from me, sucking in cheese and smiling like we were family.
David Ryan’s work reminds one that while most contemporary art works like furniture—its inertia facilitating conversation on almost any topic (except art) that might go on around it—painting has to exceed its literal identity as an object if it is to be more than a critique of itself.
What can I say? Robert Earl Keen played my wedding party last Christmas time—on CD, alas—and inaugurated the prancing with “Gringo Honeymoon,” in which the newlyweds cross over the Rio Grande and encounter a cowboy “running from the DEA.”
With scant exception, the writing of literary criticism is a balkanized art.
Ellen Douglas’s Truth: Four Stories I Am Finally Old Enough to Tell contains scattered tales and facts gathered from her relatives, and the residents and archives of the author’s community.
In the early 1930s, shortly after the invention of the portable audio recorder, the Federal Writers’ Project documented the experience of slavery by interviewing those who had lived under it.
I don’t have much to say about Henri Cole’s new collection of poems, The Visible Man, (Knopf) other than: find this book.
In his new, luminous book, Kaddish, Leon Wieseltier, literary editor of the New Republic, asks the question: Does an unhappy man know more than a happy man?
Two consummate actors, Irene Worth (three Tonys, three Obies, and two Drama Desk Awards) and Peter Eyre (a classic on the English stage whose New York debut as Polonius in Ralph Fiennes’s Hamlet earned a nomination from the Outer Critics Circle…
Winner of numerous festival awards, including this year’s Sundance World Premiere and the Berlin Festival’s Ecumenical Prize, Walter Salles’s Central Station is set in the director’s native Brazil.