When people ask if we need more queer movies, I think of a boy in a trailer in Kentucky watching two men on screen touch, just for a moment, deciding this is what love looks like.
Searching for where I belong, I find myself cobbling together a sort of mongrel Judaism—half-remembered and syncretic and porous and contradictory and all mine.
Buffy Sainte-Marie’s decision to breastfeed her child on Sesame Street to educate viewers would be one of the last times the act was broadcast without being a punchline.
As an actor, director, writer and producer, she’s often examined women on the verge of reconfiguration. Her latest project, an adaptation of Alias Grace, is one she’s been thinking about for decades.
Beneath the ubiquitous posters for the Shen Yun ballet is a battle between dissidents and the state over the soul of a nation, both at home and across the diaspora.
Louis C.K. would rather ignore those assault rumours, but at this point, he can’t just let his art do the talking.
Armond White’s film reviews were once electric: part historical analysis, part posturing, part insult comedy, an attempt to take black art—and art in general—seriously. What happened?
On Leonora Carrington, B. Catling, and the alternate, revealing visions of the world that can emerge when artists explore multiple disciplines.
From Pissed Jeans inviting Lindsay Hunter onto a song to Lynne Tillman writing for Y Pants to Kathy Acker performing with the Mekons, there’s a unique energy and catharsis in these collaborations.
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