Sick and smelly / I dip my finger into my belly button / and it seems to go forever // Not a shallow cup this is just / AttemptS just attempts to remember / what it was like to be pastel
a surgeon takes / a shirt off. / a struggle. / a shrug. / a shrinking / blinking quiet. / give him his bottle / so he can suck on it.
Identities, self-portraits, and fiction.
The artist talks about investigating the gender spectrum and the female gaze.
Painting the fragmented body.
Lynne Tillman’s first novel in twelve years, Men and Apparitions, follows a narrator ruminating on his own subject position: Ezekiel “Zeke” Stark, a cultural anthropologist, conducts a study of men’s reactions to and impressions of the changing nature of masculinity in America today.
Nineteenth-century female hysteria and contemporary digital culture on stage.
The debut novelist of Self-Portrait with Boy on the DUMBO of the 1990s, accidental art, and the importance of being unladylike.
“Resistance and change often begin in art.”
When you don’t have the words / what will you use to speak (to truth)? Whiteness is structured like a language
“The book can draw in different audiences without catering to them. There’s a kind of rigorous hospitality, an aperture for dialogue.”
The first thing my Godsent said when I came through the door was, “I think I have this damn thing on backwards.”
“Our bodies are graveyards of cells, the source of art, inherently finite, constantly decaying.”
The performers consider memory, autobiography, and stand-up in Truscott’s groundbreaking comedy about rape, Asking for It, showing this November at NYU’s Skirball Center.
Chris Kraus and Douglas A. Martin conjure the iconoclastic author.
Upcoming shows, retrospectives, and museum openings highlighted by Maika Pollack, Ratik Asokan, Alex Zafiris, Gideon Jacobs, Michael Barron, Wendy Vogel, Zack Hatfield, and Legacy Russell
“I don’t want the kind of career where everything is sensible and safe; I’d rather suffer through the anxiety of wondering where I’m going next than suffer the boredom of dancing in the same safe square.”
Writing with the body as her touchstone, the novelist channels a woman warrior in The Book of Joan.
Reliable uncertainty in Deb Olin Unferth’s Wait Till You See Me Dance