Few cinematic sequences signify the dawn of postmodernism and all its attendant schizoid unknowability beneath its constructed surface veneer better than the final scene of Francis Ford Coppola’s The Conversation. In that scene, the audio tapping specialist Harry, portrayed with quiet and contemplative everyman rage by the great Gene Hackman, rips his apartment up with …
Samuel Beckett seems like a good place to start. After election night on Tuesday, it feels like we’re living in one of his plays. I didn’t really want to write this piece–or any election-related “think piece.” It always seems egomaniacal and self-indulgent. But, I couldn’t find a way to avoid writing about our ominous election of Donald Trump.
Scrawled in black pen in one of his many journals in the New York Public Library’s exhibition Why We Fight: Remembering AIDS Activism, artist and AIDS activist David Wojnarowicz wrote, “If I die of AIDS, don’t give me a memorial, give me a demonstration.”
Reading Roberta Smith’s fascinating, cathartic and just the right amount of bitter list made us at Filthy Dreams consider what we would like to see happen in both the art and queer scenes. All three of the Filthy Dreams writers put our heads together and cobbled together a list of our dreams that will likely never happen.
While there was no shortage of opinions on the Gaga video, I have yet to see someone take a more lighthearted and yes, even supportive view (Does everything have to be so life-or-death serious in the art world? Come on…) of Gaga’s induction into the Abramovic method. And so, *cough* here I go.