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.
If it somehow took Milo’s appearance to reveal Bill Maher’s true form to you, perhaps you have some reckoning to do with your own Islamophobic bullshit.
As artists are pushed out by skyrocketing rent, the city’s drag culture is threatened.
He laid out every root cause and exposed every broke-ass dream that might spirit us away. There was no continuum, no sliding scale of happiness, just confusions that needed untangling.
When you have a hateful demagogue on your talk show, or taunt a man for his father dying on 9/11, or hire Ann Coulter to be a human punchline, you flatten out evil.
Nate Parker is Black; in that sense, attacks against him are also attacks against me. How unsettling, then, that defenses of him are attacks against me, too.
How the seminal series became a masterwork in scoring teen angst, one lawn-twirl at a time.