Female intelligence and female obsession, in the air
Ellen Cantor (1961–2013) was a prolific artist with an ardent vision that was personal, communal, and political. In the years before her untimely death, she had produced a complex body of work spanning painting, sculpture, drawing, and especially film and video. Her work—an open expression of her own sexuality—faced censorship battles in both the UK and Switzerland in the 1990s.
He sits there and regards the waitress, wondering what she would think if she knew he occasionally followed her home; if she knew about the Window Trick; if she knew how her breath sometimes sped in the dark; how once he touched her sleeping throat and her back arched, or how she then rolled over.
Artists Kiki Smith and Barbara Bloom wander through the thought processes that separate the compelling from the mediocre, the public from the private.
Francine Prose, author of the novel Hunters and Gatherers, delves into realism and the real act of painting time with figurative painter Catherine Murphy.
Benjamin, love beyond loves; my obsession, my object, object of my obsession; oh wordless lust, philosophical disorder.
I love the shiny, pristine teeth that most Americans keep behind their lips, pearly immaculate rows of ivory, often capped in precious metals, brilliant they seem and impervious to decay, and their children’s teeth, wrapped in steel for years so they too, will grow in straight and flawless.
The French filmmaker, Jeanne-Pierre Gorin, began making films in 1968. He has collaborated with Jean-Luc Godard. His own films Poto and Cabengo and Routine Pleasures were released in 1979 and 1986, respectively.
Filmmaker Diane Kurys, a French woman directing in English, discusses the unsexiness of onscreen sex, the possibility of loving two people at the same time, and other improbabilities.
Julian Barnes was awarded the prestigious Booker Prize for his novel The Sense of an Ending. He spoke with Patrick McGrath in 1987 about sex, Flaubert, and being obsessed with obsessions.
Allow me to write you.
He hooked the nail of his middle finger between his lower teeth and peeled off a sliver.
The films of Daniel Schmid elaborate the sensual fantasies people call forth to veil reality, a response of desire to exigencies of the social order.