A collection of all the articles we’ve published over the past month, for those who like to savor their Magpies’ tidings as an issue.
To elaborate on the metaphor of harnessed rage: I don’t mean to say that she tamed it. Rego permitted her rancour a life of its own, a force of creativity to be exploited in the studio.
Poetry and photography by Cristina Finotto, of the Po delta.
“The images for these paintings weave and intermingle in my mind and present themselves as a mélange of overlapping histories.”
I recklessly mentioned that Watteau’s Pierrot is my favourite painting in the Louvre. I have been invited to explain why, and it has to do with the ability of some great paintings to convey hidden messages and intrigue us with their meaning as well as beauty.
More and more, Pennhurst’s amazing true story is is becoming buried. I like to think my little film is helping keep it alive.
From Philomela to Prymachenko: Because this work is beneath the notice of the powerful men, not seen in the same lofty light as their manly ambitions and achievements, women find the freedom to tell their story as thoroughly, beautifully, and strangely they need.
“You’d not want to mess with her. She’s got a knife. But you do wonder what her future will be.”
My proposal is to look back to the attitudes and methods people used during trying times in the past, and combine those with the epicurean skills and knowledge of the present, to plan our daily meals in a way that provides the most delicious food with the least amount of waste.
He wasn’t scared of them, but he had a feeling of powerful things and deep things. He said that we need to find a way to look at the cave paintings. Where would he start to search for this new way of looking? Everywhere.
“The suburban kids are the worst.” Joe Bird stands with his hands on his hips, disconcertingly unperturbed by the repeated crashing behind him. “Kids” aged roughly 12 to 18 years, of both sexes, throw themselves violently into a chain link fence.
It seems more important now than ever to tell our stories and share our stories, and listen to the stories of others. To amplify the voices of anybody struggling to be heard, and to celebrate when the words or images or silences speak to us or bewilder us or transform us. To harness our anger or sadness or joy in a wild productive fury, resonating with the strange perfect words we make our own or the deafening silences we inhabit.