BOMB 84 Summer 2003
After nearly 40 years, Marina Abramović’s performances and installations continue to make viewers squirm. Laurie Anderson, an old friend, queries the artist on dreams and Buddhism.
I always wanted an older brother, so when Paul McCarthy and I became close friends 10 years ago I got the perfect bearded creature of my dreams, someone who was deeply curious about the world, art, movies, storytelling and sports, a closet jock who really knew how to rock climb, throw a forkball (a split-finger fastball) and ski.
For over 20 years Christian Marclay has been creating works that explore the intersection of the aural and the visual, reflecting on the nature of how sound and image are related.
Jesse Reiser and Nanako Umemoto have already produced a body of work that has exerted great influence on the practice of contemporary architecture.
Jimmy’s partner, Stacy, had given birth only a few days before I flew to Albuquerque to meet him, so I felt touched that he could find the time for me.
A neuroradiologist and writer whose father is an Orthodox rabbi, Aryeh Lev Stollman grew up in a home surrounded by both religious and secular books.
Best known as an improviser associated with New York’s fertile downtown music scene of the late ’70s and early ’80s, Elliott Sharp is also a prolific composer, producer, installation artist and record-label honcho.
Forget Batman and Spider-man. If you’ve heard of R. Crumb, you may also be aware of Harvey Pekar. Before camcorders, before webcams, before nonstop reality TV there was Pekar and his homegrown autobiographical comic-book series American Splendor.
Mimi Thompson on how Sheila Berger’s paintings manage to brilliantly evoke emotions, places and times.
Mungo Thomson on the search for the transcendent in Corey McCorkle’s om infused photographs.
Archie Rand discusses his Diaspora Paintings and what it means to make Jewish art.
Tom Slaughter’s paintings have a very specific effect. Like Brazilian music, as in Jobim, or Caetano Veloso, they are instantly pleasing.
Fragile antennae of a delicate insect in a grassy field, the flashlight beam of a boy lost in the forest after dark, the frantic grooves left by a motorcycle on the flats of a salt lake, spirals of thought from a Zen monk’s meditation—all are traces of wandering.
She rented the old house on an impulse. It was too big and too far away but she rented it anyway. The owners wanted to meet her.
I study the difference between myself and my mother. The family photographs have kept an accurate account of this, though their edges have curled and their colors have faded.
In his debut book I am not Jackson Pollock, John Haskell shapes his performative impersonations of characters from Joan of Arc to Topsy the elephant into short stories with the character development of an actor and the writing skill of a novelist.
Sally Gall’s photographs explore below-ground spaces, looking not for the tourist sites, terrorist hideaways, or Wonderland worlds we might expect of caves and tunnels, but finding beauty in the juxtaposition of light and stone.
Sixteen Polish installation artists take on the titular theme of Architectures of Gender in varied ways, from confronting viewers with oversized statistics to transforming Bauhaus design principles into a utopic living room.
Lucy Raven compares filmmaker Jem Cohen’s Chain—and the excerpted cut Chain Times Three shown at MoMA—to Benjamin’s Arcades Project, as a cataloguing of an urban cultural moment.
Like that of the magnified moth on the cover of its third issue, The Ganzfeld‘s wingspan is wider and stranger than its modest self-description as “an annual book of pictures and prose.”
When I heard The Lucksmiths’s second compilation CD Where Were We, I found myself developing a mild addiction to their thrummy sound: quick songs with clever lyrics that tripped to my caffeinated heartbeat.