Bernadette Mayer’s Memory was never meant to be a book.
On visual art as a tool to write about narrative, creating different kinds of time, and juggling complicated realities.
What was the earth like?
My sister asks this every night, leaning back on her pillow. The question is part of our routine, along with brushing our teeth, peeing, pushing our legs into the soft holes of our pajamas.
Historical currents reveal cultural trauma and methods of recuperation.
The choreographer explodes memory and explores the multiple.
The novelist’s latest imagines an apocalypse that feels all too likely.
A film investigating memory and history, premiering exclusively on BOMB, with a brief interview by Alex Zafiris.
The story’s “contents” are spun from actual events: in August 1973, Klaus flies to Los Angeles to meet his then-partner, Lynda Benglis (referred to as “Her”), who was to drive cross-country with him back to New York. Instead, he drives back alone, lost in a disputatious reverie circling around language, Gertrude Stein, modernist literature, mapmaking, and the act of writing.
It is both a memoir of Lindon’s literary friendships and a treatise on survival, a tribute to the friends whose care and love, in Lindon’s words, saved his life, even as they were themselves lost.
The artist talks about the genesis, composition, and execution of a recently completed work.
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.
“There’s often a gap between what we’re trying to say and what we are able to say. Sometimes I’m successful and sometimes I fail. Sometimes it’s painful and sometimes I get into that space where it feels right. That’s the high.”
The filmmaker speaks about his self-portrait as a young poet
Mourning seeps in like water, but Clemmons skillfully draws on the humor that stems from the duality of conflicting cultures. Her prose is funny, fragile, and unflinchingly candid.
The encounter between two different types of records and two different experiences—the diagram and the snapshot—is everywhere visible in and crucial to Dalal’s work.
Concerned primarily with Puerto Rico and the Caribbean, where she lives and works, her works defy categorization or any simple read. Rather, they are rich entanglements of place, history, and time.
As her mother, Monique Sindler, lay dying, the artist Sophie Calle put a camera at her bedside in order to record her last words. Having always wished to be a part of her daughter’s work, her mother responded: “Finally!”