The streets in the unnamed suburb of Detroit—which
is not necessarily set anywhere near the Motor City—evoke light.
Ultraviolet Lane. Fluorescent Avenue. Sunshine Way. Lightness, too:
Stuff to help you enjoy riding your bike for the six wet months to come.
Photos by Misha Ashton mooreThere’s a lot to be said for biking in the rain. Sure,
Portland’s winter skies are gray and leaky and the sun falls behind the
West Hills so, so fast. On the othe
Movie Reviews & Stories
David Sedaris’ writing spawned a play—The Santaland Diaries—back
in 1996, but the smartass satirist has long resisted cinematic
adaptations of his work. Until now, that is. Kyle Patrick Alva
For Kate Braidwood, masked performance
can create true theater magic. The 32-year-old, who makes up half of the
Wonderheads (her husband Andrew Phoenix is the other), describes this
magic as two
On Thursday, I was a poet. A poet who supported herself by waiting tables at Applebee’s and whose love for Jay-Z was rivaled only by an obsession with Public Enemy. I came from Indiana, where my grandparents still live, on a farm. I had a sister who was always setting me up on blind dates and always with terrible men. Men who didn’t ride bikes. Who only drove. Who voted Republican.
At Friday's TBA showing of Judson Church is Ringing in Harlem (Made-to-Measure)/Twenty Looks or Paris is Burning at The Judson Church (M2M), a half-dozen people walked out. Maybe a full dozen. So at Trajal Harrell’s artist talk on Saturday at PICA, I asked the dancer-choreographer what that’s like.
“They were lucky this wasn’t ...