On January 24, distracted as usual by the unavoidable pull of the endless scroll, I took a quick breather from writing a review of A New Love in Tokyo, Banmei Takahashi’s delightful and depraved sex worker buddy romp. I opened X and watched Minneapolis ICU nurse Alex Pretti wrestled to the ground and shot numerous … Continue reading
Being buried under precarious, emergency-surgery-threatening heaps and heaps of snow, ice, and slush is the perfect opportunity for obsessive movie-watching. Not schlepping around to galleries, climbing over the road gritty, dog-and-human shit-covered ice mountains that collect at the edge of every sidewalk in New York, to gaze disappointingly at mostly bland art (Not to mention … Continue reading
The Testament of Ann Lee is the only movie I can recall watching in the theater recently without someone barking out a disruptive, ironic laugh. And before any anti-laughers scoff in humorless scorn at those who can’t understand cinema without the distancing mechanism of camp, that chuckler is usually me. Yet, the lack of chortling … Continue reading
Lick on my clit! Make this pussy cream! Do this motherfucker how you do them Russian creams… These deliriously depraved opening lines, whispered close to my ear by Xiu Xiu’s Jamie Stewart over halfway through their new cover album, Xiu Mutha Fuckin’ Xiu: Vol. 1, released today by Polyvinyl Records, made me stop short mid-run. … Continue reading
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