The poet on her new collection and what it means to mess with, fuss with, break, and refresh language.
A Memoir of Witness and Resistance.
When the sun goes down / The spirits come out / We huff on a pinwheel / And say it spins of its own accord / Rolling out the bins in saturated air / Oiling the slop to ease extraction / Accumulate, hoard, die, repeat
The emerging playwright takes on beauty standards and societal expectations.
Sto Len is a printmaker, painter, and installation and performance artist. He cofounded the alternative arts space Cinders Gallery in Brooklyn.
Two years back, in the midst of anthropological research about the science and culture of wave monitoring and modeling in the Netherlands, I joined in an event called Waterwolf 2016, a flood preparedness exercise staged in the small municipality of Marken, just twenty kilometers outside Amsterdam. I
Far away from any coastline. Where the wind strikes the water for the first time. Where waves start to grow. A young wave stretches its quivering back, reaching for the wind.
Painted on Yupo paper with water-soluble crayon, watercolor pencil, water brush, paper towel, and Q-tip.
A CAST of eight: ACTOR, CHEF, COMPOSER, DANCER, FILMMAKER, PAINTER, and siblings: SISTER and BROTHER. If necessary, ACTOR may be played by a PHOTOGRAPHER.
A recording plays from somewhere high, / or low, through the falling dust-light: / I can’t tell you anything new about the river— / you can’t tell a river to itself.
coffee cups / stirrer sticks / napkins and cookies / on the tray top / satellite tv / an office in the air
As we entered Arezzo, the guide pointed out the prostitutes lining the road. The women looked like awkward, flashy birds, teetering in bright spandex and spiked heels, cheap gold jewelry flashing in the summer sun.
Anja skidded down the slope, which was becoming muddy from overuse by feet. It still hadn’t been paved or even scattered with gravel, since Finster didn’t want to admit that the state of the pathway could no longer reasonably be called temporary.
From 1975 to 1979 I grew up in a temporary company town made up of trailers in the boreal forests of northern Manitoba. My father was one of the hydroelectric engineers working on a joint project between the Canadian and Soviet governments to dam the Nelson River at a place called Jenpeg.
Icelandic artist Ragna Róbertsdóttir mines the land and seascapes of her country to create sparse and delicate works.
The poet and artist invokes ancient matriarchal cultures, Indigenous folkways, and the speculative capacities of language so that we might rediscover our kinship with nature.
The musician delves into the sonic properties and generative caprice of resonating bowls of water and melting blocks of ice—instruments that propel her latest album, Musique Hydromantique.
The final part of a performance trilogy on climate change, Falling Out fuses puppetry, Butoh, and Flex, to reflect on the Fukushima Daiichi nuclear disaster.
The paintings in HumidGray and ShadowLake evoke synesthetic colors, remembered landscapes, and the physical performance inherent in marking a canvas.