BOMB 79 Spring 2002
Steven Holl likes to wake up early in the morning and begin his projects with pencil, paper, and watercolors. This freehand working up of an architectural space perhaps serves as a clue to the sometimes idiosyncratic results.
I have been following Stephen Mueller’s work for 20 years. I didn’t understand it right away but some work plants itself in your mind and its logic begins to grow there. These earthly sensual paintings display a rare pictorial intelligence and an emerging cosmic ferocity.
The first work of Janet Cardiff’s I encountered was Whispering Room. I entered a room at the Art Gallery of Ontario where a series of audio speakers mounted on thin metal stands emitted a soft murmur of conversation.
I first met Laurie Sheck in the summer of 1995, at another poet’s, Julie Agoos’s place in Princeton. Laurie lived in Princeton too, and taught at Rutgers, and I was there visiting friends for the day.
On a beautiful day in October, Cornelius Eady and I sat in a Sixth Avenue diner to talk about writing, art, politics, theatrical collaboration, and yes, the events of September 11.
Dissolution of the totalitarian Soviet regime brought Russia democracy of an imperfect sort. But much of the euphoria of the early nineties has dissipated in the face of new realities.
The crowd at the December, 2001 opening of Liz Larner’s show at the Museum of Contemporary Art in Los Angeles was enormous.
Aesthetically informed by an awareness of the limits of language and the doubt that this instills, Jiménez investigates the way language orders experience and how concepts are formed, the irreconcilability between the logic of articulation and sentience.
What the viewer first sees in Newman’s Skywriting (2000) is the entire field of canvas, its fluid and unrushed strokes creating an effect both laconic and lively.
He says he is fighting a duel to the death with his wallpaper.
Our love arrived on a platform of the subway station at Grand Army Plaza.
When the doorbell rings the boy sits in his room and grows short of breath.
Quo Journal: The Eponym Imperfect
April, the Meadowlark back on his post with ex-cathedra powers of speech—
After a long journey involving many guides in as many countries, the narrator, (Juan) Amado González, arrives in Mogador, a walled island city off the coast of Northern Africa.
The apes are mulling about the magazine racks and rhinoceros are shuffling their feet.
On a freakishly warm Saturday last November, a day when children pulled out their sand pails and last summer’s shorts, and overdressed parents stripped off layer after layer of their own clothes, revealing pale, hairy bodies meant to be concealed at this time of year,
Ukrainian American band Gogol Bordello blends punk music, absurdist theater, and the accordion to create their self-described “rural Transylvanian avant-hard” sound.
Chris Ware develops a unique vision in his tragic comic book Jimmy Corrigan: The Smartest Kid on Earth through wide-ranging style and perspective.
Reviewer Carlos Brillembourg finds the absurd task of representing 500 years of Brazilian history in a single exhibit further hampered by Jean Nouvel’s Guggenheim redesign and the franchising of the museum brand.
Tsai Ming-Liang’s film What Time Is It There? uncovers ghosts in Taipei and Paris and pays its respects to French filmmakers Truffaut and Léaud.
Chambliss Giobbi borrows from Cubism and Futurism in his collages, made up of torn photographic pieces sealed under beeswax.
Clifford Ross deals with his personal helplessness during the events of September 11th as he discusses his new perspective on his own actions, as well as the world.
In Pursuit of a Vanishing Star is constructed from stories within stories: a novel about a script of Greta Garbo’s first screenplay.
Reviewer Jaime Manrique uncovers the influence of Borges, Greene, Doctorow, and Stevenson in the storytelling powers of Nicholas Christopher’s Franklin Flyer.
Ben Marcus’s Notable American Women chronicles the experiments of the Silentists, a group of women who strive to remove motion and sound from their lives in order to “cease to kill the sky.”
In his satiric novel Depraved Indifference, Gary Indiana fictionalizes the incestuous, murderous, disguise-toting grifter team of Kenneth and Sante Kimes, mixing their story with excerpts of letters from Arendt and Kafka.