Discover MFA Programs in Art and Writing
BOMB 73 Fall 2000
“I find that it’s not enough of a mission when art is supposed to be about one thing or another because to be art, to begin with, it should be about everything at once. It should present a kind of all-encompassing world.”
In 1999, in consequence of the wide success of her video installation Rapture, Shirin Neshat achieved immediate celebrity as a major contemporary artist. This standing was reinforced by Fervor, one of the highlights of the Whitney Biennial 2000.
“Nietzsche says we can’t see around our own corner. I only think that it’s very, very hard.”
“Unlike philosophical thinking, which demands an argument without logical flaws and contradictions, literary thinking allows you to contradict yourself. A character within a book can say two totally contradictory things, yet both can be true. Shakespeare does that all the time.”
“I try to fight against the temple of fashion, you know. In terms of different interpretations and music being made there is the freedom to do everything, but you must feel it, not do it because it’s fashionable.”
“One of the things about the theater, and fiction, is that you can play. You can actually investigate situations that don’t exist.”
“The more you put yourself out there, the more hurt you can become, but the rewards grow exponentially. Why not live on the edge a bit? For all we know, this is our only time out.”
“The psychoanalytic paradigm, which was dominant, seems to be losing ground to a more materialistic neurological model. You might ask not what someone’s behavior or dreams or desires mean, but what their causes are. If our picture of the self does change like that, it would signal a major cultural change.”
Turner’s characteristic care and orderliness have attenuated his methodology into a sequence of operations so mediated as to feel archeological. He has maneuvered outside the discursive loops of postmodernism to a place that’s really “nonmodern.”
The world of Michael Zwack’s paintings exists in spirit; places inhabited by esoteric knowledge.
The stories our parents tell answer none of our questions.
A small interrogation room. A man paces, smokes cigarettes. A dog sits on a chair.
I was nine years old when I first met Kumi, who used to be one of our neighbors on Zongo Street, a densely populated suburb of Kumasi, Ghana’s most prosperous city.
At night I drop a stone on my sternum, again and again, waiting for it to crack.
For a long time I had wanted a child, but the desire, attenuated, had passed, and other feelings had taken its place.