Новости за 03.03.2017

In his first work, On the Heights of Despair, the dour Romanian philosopher Emil Cioran wrote, “No matter which way we go, it is no better than any other. It is all the same whether you achieve something or not, have faith or not, just as it is all the same whether you cry or remain silent.” These words, no doubt, are comfort to President Donald Trump, whose sixth week in office gave him, for one brief moment, the widespread acclaim from the media that he has desired his entire life—only to see it disappear (like tears... Читать дальше...

Alfred Stieglitz, courtesy of Brooklyn Museum

In April 1917, as the final show at his gallery at 291 Fifth Avenue, Alfred Stieglitz mounted Georgia O’Keeffe’s first solo exhibition. A centennial is the sort of occasion curators can’t resist, and it should be the raison d’être of Georgia O’Keeffe: Living Modern (a show in which, fittingly, vexingly, Stieglitz looms large). But curators can’t resist self-congratulation either, and the Brooklyn Museum wants us to relate the show to its 1927 exhibition of the artist’s work. Читать дальше...

Music is invisible. It has a physical existence, since sound waves travel through the air, but we can’t see it except in that one part from Fantasia. But music today is also often sold invisibly: Spotify and Tidal and iTunes don’t even let you own the file. You just stream the music, as if tuning in to a secret and expensive frequency.

The turmoil and dysfunction in President Trump’s administration have persisted despite the White House’s (and the commentariat’s) fond hope that his first address to Congress would set the wind at his back. Ironically, this has taken the political spotlight away from the White House and moved it to Capitol Hill. Will Congressional investigators do their jobs? Will Republicans be able to advance a legislative agenda without presidential know-how or guidance? Where is the god damn Obamacare repeal... Читать дальше...

Every few years, someone on the internet rediscovers that the 1939 film The Wizard of Oz has a 99 percent “fresh” rating on Rotten Tomatoes, as opposed to 100 percent, thanks to one “rotten” critique. One writer called the review “one of the most churlish and thus entertaining professional assessments in the history of fictional media.” Another said it’s “a testament to the fact that no film, no matter how great, can truly be called ‘universally acclaimed.’”

The memory is vague, perhaps implanted. It may only exist because my mother has taken great pains over the years to remind me of it. It was either 1991 or ’92, and I am about three years old. It’s Christmas Day and we’re at a house in my hometown of Colrain, Massachusetts. Other people are there, too. We brought cookies to the event. At the time I thought of it as a party; I know now it was not.