March 6, 2014 · FalseArt
To Henrik Ibsen March 1901 8 Royal Terrace, Fairfield, Dublin Honoured Sir: I write to you to give you greeting on your seventy-third birthday and to join my voice to those of your well-wishers in all lands. You may remember that shortly after the publication of your latest play When We Dead Awaken, an appreciation of […]
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March 5, 2014 · Absolute Solipsism
We are as forlorn as children lost in the woods. When you stand in front of me and look at me, what do you know of the griefs that are in me and what do I know of yours. And if I were to cast myself down before you and weep and tell you, what […]
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February 25, 2014 · Industries
So here we are in the Cantor, Stanford’s marble temple to the idea that culture can be contained, catalogued, made safe for the children of tech money and inherited privilege. And into this pristine space comes Aleta Hayes with her Chocolate Heads, turning off the goddamn lights and switching on the black lights like some […]
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February 12, 2014 · Industries
I know what it looks like already. The body suspended mid leap or run, caught in that freeze frame mythology we’ve all agreed means “transcendence” or “freedom” or whatever bullshit someone is packaging this week. The lighting just so. The composition that genuflects about “liminal space” ever thumbtacked to a corkboard. It’s pornography, really, image […]
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February 5, 2014 · Industries
Rebecca gets it. She understands that friendship is the most important thing there is because it requires you to show up without armor, without an agenda, without any guarantee that the other person won’t just look at you like you’re speaking Martian. It’s vulnerable and stupid and necessary, and most of us are too chickenshit […]
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January 30, 2014 · Industries
That title. Mud. One syllable that lands like a boot heel in primordial ooze. It’s the sound of being stuck, of drowning slowly in the ordinary. Because Mud doesn’t traffic in the redemption industrial complex. Mae, Lloyd, Henry: they’re not climbing out of anything. They’re sinking, and Fornes just watches with the cold, clear eye […]
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January 17, 2014 · Speculation
Lear is a play [that] contains a great deal of veiled social criticism — but it is all uttered either by the Fool, by Edgar when he is pretending to be mad, or by Lear during his bouts of madness. In his sane moments Lear hardly ever makes an intelligent remark. George Orwell, in Lear Rodeo […]
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