Jean Genet believed that money was inherently evil and the quest for power was a form of necrophilia.
Choreographer and writer Jack Ferver’s new collaboration with artist Marc Swanson, Chambre, begins with Ferver, scantily-clad in a gold, chained bodysuit and dark sunglasses, ranting about a former employee who had the audacity to use “my YSL discount without my permission.”
Laudicieia Calixto and Rita Oliveira enter the space of the Abrons Arts Center’s Experimental Theater and find themselves in a somewhat familiar scene: a slightly cluttered apartment, littered with fancy gowns, full-length mirror, desk, phone, assorted wigs.
LOS ANGELES — Laura Parnes’s four-disk video series Blood and Guts in Hollywood exposes the idealized teenage dream for what it is: A boring, vapid fantasy of “love” that is marketed and sold to an audience of young dreamers searching for their soulmate in the illusions of silver screens and false idols.
Chris Tysh’s Our Lady of the Flowers, Echoic is, as the title suggests, a revision, or better yet, a re-sounding, a twenty-first century echo of Jean Genet’s transgressive and groundbreaking debut novel Notre-Dame-des-Fleurs, which he drafted in prison in 1942 and framed as a kind of playful, metafictional autobiography.
Stendhal on Correggio, Baudelaire on Guys, Zola on Manet, Proust on Moreau. It’s a long-standing practice, French poets and novelists taking up art criticism. In the 20th century, the roster continues: Apollinaire,Breton, Leiris, Malraux, Sartre, Bataille, Bonnefoy, and there’s the French poet-painters: Picabia, Cocteau, Nouet, Jacob.