I wish I hadn’t purposefully visited Christopher Gambino’s window installation, The Christmas Show at Below Grand. Not because I wish I could erase it from my mind, but I dream of stumbling upon this festive furniture crime scene by happenstance. A momentary look to my right while walking down Orchard Street. A glance at a … Continue reading
Olivia Nuzzi’s much-maligned memoir American Canto opens with a phone call and a cockroach rave. Stomping down Fifth Avenue in front of the Met, Nuzzi argues with croaky-voiced bear-crime-scene-stager and whale-beheader Robert F. Kennedy Jr…I mean, The Politician…about whether their long-shot presidential candidate x political journalist affair is wrong (it is). Answering his invocation of … Continue reading
A dour-looking, ruddy-faced Quaker, who, after a heavenly bout of what was likely typhus in the same year that our founding daddies signed the Declaration of Independence, was resurrected as “a genderless servant of God.” A swivel-eyed polyamorous duo who bred unicorns (or really, did questionable surgeries on goats), one of which, named Lancelot, hit … Continue reading
Every great album should come with a jumpscare. A moment that makes you stumble a little on a run, stop short on a walk, and jerk your head up when blasting it at home. On Anna von Hausswolff’s phenomenal new album ICONOCLASTS, that jumpscare comes in the form of Iggy Pop’s craggy, trembling bellow, loudly … Continue reading
There’s a danger in building a career on being a “provocative” artist. Eventually, you may find yourself hitting up the most notorious sex trafficker and pedo in recent history and, I’d argue, maybe the most influential figure of the 21st century to rant about the election. At least that’s what happened with Andres Serrano, whose … Continue reading
Have you noticed—a—few—too—many—thoroughly misplaced—em-dashes in exhibition press releases lately? A few extra oddball, “not…but…” styled phrases? A hefty dash of strung-together artspeak descriptors that are even more incomprehensible than normal? A splash of vapid genericisms that are closer to completely unintelligible than a poor gallery assistant grabbing at straws to get this press release finished … Continue reading
Tinkling, angelic bells ushered in the most mournful rendition of the Lady in the Radiator’s ascension anthem, “In Heaven,” I’ve ever heard, like a warbling hymn sung at a gravesite scented with night-blooming jasmine. At the conclusion of Xiu Xiu’s live interpretation of Eraserhead’s minimalist whooshing score, performed last week at Brooklyn’s Elsewhere, Jamie Stewart’s … Continue reading
A familiar two-toned intergalactic bleep warps as a stitched-up ass in flesh-colored leather pants, alluringly rocks side-to-side on screen. That recognizable do-doo emerges from its muddied distortion into the sonic perfection of “Goodbye Horses,” as Q Lazzarus’s stunning, androgynous voice hums over the beat. A face peers into the camera in slo-mo. Lit only by … Continue reading
Can ball gags be wholesome? Can an object stuffed into your gaping mouth, eyes watering as you struggle to slurp back a swallow, be family-friendly? Can that same ball gag, yanked into place by a leather harness with straps cutting sharp diagonals across your face, be a suitable accessory for a lovely, casual dinner with … Continue reading
A young boy in a rumpled maroon T-shirt and jeans pushes a wheelchair filled to the brim with heavy yellow plastic water jugs. His face is a spectral smear with a hint of a nose, a curved ear, and a slight, concentrated frown. These indistinguishable features not only obscure his identity but mark his effort … Continue reading