Queer Theory
Extending the possibilities of relation.
The body as social sculpture.
Future St. is set in an America in which homosexuality has triumphed over heterosexuality, cloning has replaced sexual reproduction, and California has seceded from the mainland United States to form the gay male state of “Clonifornia.”
The actors chat about performing masculinity, transitioning, and Blackwell’s one-person show They, Themself and Schmerm.
“Some people are happy calling me an artist, others a Conceptual or post-Conceptual artist, others say sculptor, and others use a string of modifiers. Someone suggested once that I was simply performing these categories, which I like.”
“I am an artist. I am a NEGROGOTHIC, devil-worshipping, free black man in the blues tradition. Those are the things I am now.”
“What expression isn’t a negotiation of some sort?”
“I don’t think being a cynical, academically oriented deconstructor should stop one from being a wild and crazy performer.”
Text messaging, parasexual literature, and psychiatry in drag.
In ECODEVIANCE, a ritualistic poetry book-cum-grimoire and guide to various livings and dyings, CAConrad’s mic is comprised of “the bones of the earth”: crystals. Voices whisper, ring, and shout through(out) this book.
There are numerous pleasures in encountering Herstory Inventory, a project initiated and organized by the artist Ulrike Müller, not least of which include a collection of 100 drawings by artists whom I love and admire.
Emily Hoffman reviews works from performance artists Rebecca Patek and Miguel Gutierrez at the 2014 American Realness festival
Jillian Peña on the fantasy of ballet, queer temporality, and doubling in her new performance Polly Pocket.
A.K. Burns on the queer body, slipping between forms, American fetishes, and becoming a cyborg.
Brecht’s estrangement, Artaud’s ritual theatre, Boal’s Theatre of the Oppressed, and camp inform My Barbarian’s performance work: an investigation of what constitutes transformative cultural practice.
Mariana Valencia on her sculptural arrangements of bodies and objects, teenagers in parking lots, and Bushwick sunsets.
CAConrad’s first book is a voracious projectile, cutting desire and dissidence into bite-size servings: eat me.
