From Super PAC to supernova, two artists view photographs through the lens of time, and time through the lens of colonialism.
I was the type of man who got his ears cleaned. I was the type of woman who didn’t like dogs. We lived together in a house on a street that was the color of asphalt. I told you what I thought of you.
I remember your torso locked in a twill shell. / I remember the same rotating body bare. / Is my sadness ever any different?
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.
If novelists could tell the story of climate change, they might spark the action scientists are calling for in order to save the planet.
It was October, and autumn was at its highest. I found myself in Croatia, in Zagreb, near the mountain of Sjleme for two months, and there I began filming Hibernation.
“I’m thinking about how we experience, or try to experience, infinite space and time through the most finite, basic methods.”
During a train ride from New York to Massachusetts, Rosa Barba and Joan Jonas exchanged thoughts on volcanoes, deserts, and poetry, on film versus video, and the layering of time and place in their works.
Choreographer Maria Hassabi and dramaturg Scott Lyall discuss the importance of space and boundaries in designing their newest dance work Premiere.
Krill tell me I’m such a rotten cloud to ask for help. But, hell, they gave me sweet sixteen bushels and said get ‘em black and white and cored. Did they mean rotten rotten?
Jillian Peña on the fantasy of ballet, queer temporality, and doubling in her new performance Polly Pocket.
I’m sitting in the BAM Opera House among the rustling of bodies settling into their seats when the lights suddenly cut out.
From the trail back there, the way you were moving, I took you for a heron toeing a crab hole. My eyes aren’t so great.
Andrew Sean Greer on time travel and the living of life in his new novel The Impossible Lives of Greta Wells.
Richard Forster’s drawings have an extraordinary purity.
As the following dialogue will make clear, I’m a stone fan of Geoff Dyer, the mid-career British author who is our leading master of the undefinable memoir-essay-perambulation on diverse topics: jazz, D. H. Lawrence, photography, travel, drugs, sex, etcetera.
Lawrence Chua speaks to the filmmaker about Thai history and its ghosts.