essays on dance, art, performance, books

The Story of a Murder on LitHub

I seemed to be the eternal harbinger of bad news, the deliverer of pain.

Looking at Dancers, Buidings, and People in the Streets, a conversation with Anya Liftig, Clarinda Mac Low, and Matthew Mohr on PAJ: A Journal of Performance and Art:

LIFTIG: If you look at this as a triangle and you’re on the bottom of the triangle, you’re looking up to a mouse who has a piece of cheese that is just a little bit bigger than yours. From where I’m standing, the piece of cheese above me looks more attractive, but actually, there is a gigantic wheel of cheese in the sky.

writings on contemporary dance and performance:

There do need to be some things in life and art that remain elusive and unobtainable and uncollectible and ununderstandable. There do need to be things that rattle around in our brains for longer than it takes to click “like.” And in this case the dancers will win. Because there is no photoshop, garageband, imovie, or memoir writing workshop version of dance.  It can’t be downloaded. It requires too much specialized and consistent training. It costs too much and pays too little. It takes up too much time and doesn’t last long enough. It demands everything and leaves you with nothing. The dancers will outlast us all. The rest of us are dilettantes. The dancers will win.

on Judy Blume’s Tiger Eyes at Los Angeles Review of Books

I TOOK TIGER EYES with me on a family beach trip when I was 12 years old. My friendly aunts plunked themselves down beside me in the sand and asked what I was reading. “It’s a book about a girl whose father is killed right in front of her and then afterwards she has to go live with relatives who are sort of mean.” My aunts looked horrified. “Wow,” they said. “That sounds really hard for the girl. That sounds serious.” “It is,” I said. Tiger Eyes was a serious book.

Profile of the performance project APPOINTMENT by Aaron Landsman on NYFA CURRENT.

My second “appointment” at the CUNY offices is with Landsman himself. He chats me up in the hallway, casually waving hello to other audience members and colleagues as they arrive in the waiting room. Unlike the dysfunctional staffers from my first appointment, Landsman’s character appears to be an affable professor, enjoying the social environment of a college, though something is slightly off about him. “Are you married?” he asks. “Are you partnered up?” I dodge the question. He playfully punches me in the arm. “You totally are,” he says and proceeds to tell me a few too many details about his infant son’s nipple preferences.

Interview with performance artist Clarinda Mac Low about her project CYBORG NATION on NYFA Current.

AK: How do you feel cyborg technology enhances presence or that “charged moment”?

CML: I don’t know if it does. In some ways I think that it doesn’t, except that it amplifies presence. These devices extend our senses—they extend our hearing, they extend our sight, they extend our sense of presence. In that sense, even amplifying a private conversation creates a charged moment because it literally amplifies it, making it available to a wider group. There is also a question I have about inner life—how do you build an inner life when you’re always reaching out? I don’t mean that rhetorically; I mean that actually, as a real question.

Contribution to Rozalia Jovanovic’s Manual for a Productive Everyday Life. On Everday Genius.