9/28/2018 0 Comments DeVotchKa On World Cafe
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If you’re a more detail-oriented person than I am when it comes to getting places, maybe a happy accident of music discovery like this has never happened to you. But about a decade ago, when I thought I was going to see a friend’s regular drums, bass guitar indie band, I walked into the venue and saw in front of me a woman lying on the floor playing a light-up sousaphone that was pointing up at the sky, a guy on violin and a lead singer who was in the throes of klezmer-pop-party mania. Let’s just say this was not my friend’s indie band, and I was very thrilled to have made the mistake. Sorry, friend. The band with the sousaphone that I stayed and danced to all night was called DeVotchka, and it’s my guests today on the show. The members of DeVotchka first got together in the late ’90s in Denver, led by Nick Urata, who sings and plays a bunch of instruments including the theremin. The band has released a handful of really charming albums that blend the spirit of indie, cabaret and world music with a whole lot more that can’t be described. Its unique sound has landed DeVotchka’s music in a number of films, maybe most notably Little Miss Sunshine in 2006. The band has a new album out called This Night Falls Forever. In this session, I talk with Nick about it, but we start off with a recording of DeVotchka performing live on stage at World Cafe with a song from the album called “Straight Shot.” Listen in the player. The post DeVotchKa On World Cafe appeared first on GuaripeteMagazine. via GuaripeteMagazine https://ift.tt/2QgZvQJ
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Felines will be welcomed at this Miami Beach bar. The Cat Café South Beach will open next month at 1423 Washington Ave. The coffee bar will serve java, teas and cold brews, donuts and cookies and feature views of about 30 cats and kittens. âOur tagline is a a place for the enjoyment of cats,ââ said owner Celtya Jackson who said the cafe should open in about 10 days in a former athletic shoe store. âThis is a place for people to go to who like cats, have cats at home and canât get enough of them.â The kittys will be placed in âPurradise,â an area partitioned by glass so that the cats are separate from the bar which will also serve will serve Virgin Island Coffee Roasters in Boynton Beach, Honeybee Doughnuts in South Miami and Cindy Louâs Cookies in Miami Beach. But people can step inside the cat space to interact with them. âItâs nicer for the cats,ââ said Jackson. âTheir personalities can come through.â The aim of the café is to match cats with potential new owners. The cats will be available for adoption. âLearning and caring about animals is an important life skill and it makes society a better place,ââ Jackson said noting that the café will help ease the cityâs stray population which is estimated at 150,000. âThere is no pressure to donate or adopt.â Jackson said she was inspired to open the business when she moved to Miami Beach from New York where she was a hotelier and began fostering cats. She currently has two cats that she inherited from her late aunt and she cares and feeds 10 cats in her Miami Beach building. âI want to remove the negative stigma surrounding cats, help people understand them more,ââ said Jackson. Four people will run the coffee area while the cat space will be staffed by volunteers, according to the Journal. The concept, which has been cat-ching on around the country, is said to have first begun in Asia. The Miami Beach cat-coffee house isnât the only one in the region. Wilton Manors is home to the Good Luck Cat Café inside the Boomerang Thrift Store, 2365 Wilton Dr. The post Cats with your coffee? The Cat Café is coming to Miami Beach appeared first on GuaripeteMagazine. via GuaripeteMagazine https://ift.tt/2zDAObP 9/28/2018 0 Comments Memory Café launches in HugoHUGO — A concept that originated in the Netherlands is slowly seeping into the U.S. and becoming more and more popular in Minnesota. Every fourth Wednesday of the month, FamilyMeans will host a Walking Memory Café from 1:30-3 p.m. at Rice Lake Centre, 6900 137th St. N., Hugo. A memory café is a welcoming place for individuals with Alzheimer’s or any type of dementia or other brain disorders, as well as their caregivers. Whereas some cafés focus more on education, others may implement activities. A unique element of Hugo’s café is that participants will get a little bit of exercise. “The ultimate goal is the social connection to others in your community,” said FamilyMeans Community Educator Jenny West. “We are hoping the later afternoon is a good time because some people might nap during that time, so it will keep them awake, get them outdoors, get them that physical exercise and maybe that will help them sleep at night.” FamilyMeans, a nonprofit organization headquartered in Stillwater, offers a variety of services such as financial and bankruptcy services and education; counseling and mental health services; divorce services; caregiver support and youth enrichment programs. In 2016, the organization began offering a 10-week Memory Club twice each year for individuals in the early stage of diagnosis as well as their caregivers. “At the end of every session, I would have people say, ‘Well, now what? We want to stay connected to the people we have met through the club,’” West said. “After every session, I would tell my boss we needed to do a memory café.” FamilyMeans set a goal to start cafés in Washington County by the end of 2017. In June, the first one was rolled out in Lake Elmo, another in Woodbury in July and one in Cottage Grove in August. Hugo hosted its first earlier this week on Sept. 26. In Anoka County, there are currently two memory cafés, one in Coon Rapids and another in Fridley. The first half of Hugo’s café session will focus on discussion and education. During the second half, participants can walk around Rice Lake Centre (if they choose) while talking with people who understand what they are going through. “The biggest part of a memory café is a community setting that can be open to everyone and to connect others,” West explained. “They share something in common and what that commonality is, is a dementia diagnosis. And they share their journey, their wisdom, they share time together, but it is in a relaxed environment.” Mary Rivard, ForeverWell coordinator at the Forest Lake YMCA, heard about the new memory café and couldn’t be more thrilled for Hugo. Rivard has a very personal experience with memory cafés, as her 91-year-old mother attended one in St. Paul for a year and a half. “It was really good with my mom’s early-stage dementia. It was good to go to a group that was full of new and different faces, of different ages, husbands, wives, daughters, mothers, friends bringing friends,” she said. “It opened up her world a little bit more and she was able to have more stimulating conversations.” When her mother first started attending the café, Rivard said she was shy and didn’t participate in a lot of the discussions, but toward the end she became the social butterfly she had been before the diagnosis. “It gave her such a comfortable, easy opportunity to connect with other people without feeling judged,” Rivard said, encouraging participants to give the memory cafés more than one try. To sign up for Hugo’s Walking Memory Café, contact West at 651-789-4015 or [email protected].
Editor Shannon Granholm can be reached at 651-407-1227 or [email protected]. The post Memory Café launches in Hugo appeared first on GuaripeteMagazine. via GuaripeteMagazine https://ift.tt/2QivobL 9/28/2018 0 Comments Covers & Cocktails Giveaway: MatedHappy Friday! Has your week been a doozy? Mine has. And I think I deserve a drink. And regardless of type of drink, you do, too. Wine, water, whatever. Our drink inspiration for this month is Cross Breed by Lora Leigh! I know many fans of The Breeds series have been waiting for this book and I hope it lives up to all of your expectations. I’m rather new to The Breeds series, but I will say I didn’t have much difficulty following along. Both Sarah and I want to mention, though, that the sex in these books can be rather intense and feature some unconventional mating elements.
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We’re talking knots here, people. And I don’t mean with ropes!
I really loved the bright blue of the cover. I don’t think I’ve ever made a blue drink for Covers & Cocktails before, which means I can play with the go-to blue drink additive: blue curaçao. If you’re unfamiliar with the liqueur, it has a citrus taste. This was also my first time meeting Cassie, the heroine of Cross Breed. Though she’s tough and brash, there’s a…pep to her. Not in the bubbly sense, but she’s incredibly passionate and loving when it comes to her family. Those close to her mean a lot and I found that to be rather sweet, which translated into something with bubbles. Now her mate (I don’t want to name him if it isn’t obvious and it’s also not in the book’s description) is exceptionally smooth. The smoothest booze that I happen to love is gin. Gin on its own has this silky mouthfeel. I hate using the term “mouthfeel,” but it’s really the only accurate description. I also love a gin and tonic, which is where the added lime comes in. It adds a tartness and oomph without the spice that something like ginger would provide. The drink goes down really easy, but has a bright, effervescent taste. It’s not a bad marriage between Cassie and her mate. I could have gone a different drink route with darker alcohol and a bolder taste, but I typically associate those things will the fall and winter. You’ll just have to wait! As an extra bonus, Berkley has five (5) copies of Cross Breed to giveaway! Send lots of love to Berkley, everyone! Ingredients: Proportions: Modifications and notes:
This drink is deceptively strong! Pace yourself! Giveaway time! To enter the giveaway, comment below with your ideal animal hybrid form! Standard disclaimers apply: We are not being compensated for this giveaway. Void where prohibited. Open to US residents where permitted by applicable law. Must be over 18. Mating rituals can get messy, so please lay down a towel. They are complimentary and extras can be requested from the concierge. If you have any animal allergies, do let us and we’ll provide you a non-shifter room. Enjoy your stay! Comments will close Sunday September 30, 2018 around noon ET, and the winners will be announced shortly thereafter.
The post Covers & Cocktails Giveaway: Mated appeared first on GuaripeteMagazine. via GuaripeteMagazine https://ift.tt/2Qf3qNP 9/28/2018 0 Comments 318. Sharp Academics and Paranormal Romance: An Interview with Kelly Baker PhD and Tressie McMillam Cotton PhDToday I’m talking with two nifty academics, so get ready to maybe take notes. I’m talking with Tressie McMillan Cottom, PhD, sociology professor at Virginia Commonwealth University, and Kelly Baker, PhD, who studies racist politics, sexism in the academy, white supremacy, and zombies. Both are writers, and both are major fans of paranormal romance. They snuck paranormal romances to read during grad school, they hid their love of romances, and dealt with being shunned and shamed for loving the genre. We talk about how reading fills in gaps in knowledge about culture and history, and we also discuss: – How romance and genre fiction broadened their understanding of worlds outside their own – Their take on anyone who can or tries to remove the politics from anything – including historical romance – The idea that history can somehow not be political (?!) – The ways that romance, specifically fantasy and paranormal romance, interrogates race, society, gender, and colonialism – and the ways that it does not – The politics of escape fantasy in different romance genres – The politics of who is permitted to get angry in a written world Plus we take a hilarious deep critical dive into Dr. Cottom’s love of Hallmark movies – and how they are talked about as “unpolitical” as well. She talks, after some prodding, about how she reads Hallmark films. Here’s a hint: they’re alarmingly similar to a very specific romance genre, and it’s not contemporary. Get ready to have your mind blown and also laugh a lot, too. Read the transcript↓ Press PlayHere are the books we discuss in this podcast:You can find Dr. Cottom on Twitter at @TressieMcPHD and on her site at https://tressiemc.com/ You can find Dr. Baker at @Kelly_j_Baker, and on her website, kellyjbaker.com. If you like the podcast, you can subscribe to our feed, or find us at iTunes or on Stitcher. We also have a cool page for the podcast on iTunes. Thanks to our sponsors:More ways to sponsor:Sponsor us through Patreon! (What is Patreon?) What did you think of today’s episode? Got ideas? Suggestions? You can talk to us on the blog entries for the podcast or talk to us on Facebook if that’s where you hang out online. You can email us at [email protected] or you can call and leave us a message at our Google voice number: 201-371-3272. Please don’t forget to give us a name and where you’re calling from so we can work your message into an upcoming podcast. Thanks for listening! This Episode’s MusicOur music is provided by Sassy Outwater. This is “Passport Panic,” by the Peatbog Fairies, from their album Dust. You can find all things Peatbog at their website, or at Amazon or iTunes. Podcast Sponsor
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The post 318. Sharp Academics and Paranormal Romance: An Interview with Kelly Baker, PhD, and Tressie McMillam Cotton, PhD appeared first on GuaripeteMagazine. via GuaripeteMagazine https://ift.tt/2OiiRHH 9/28/2018 0 Comments Dukes Urban Fantasy and More
Don’t want to miss an ebook sale? Sign up for our newsletter, and you’ll get the week’s available deals each Friday. The post Dukes, Urban Fantasy, and More appeared first on GuaripeteMagazine. via GuaripeteMagazine https://ift.tt/2Qf3j4R 9/28/2018 0 Comments The Innocence of Abu ZubaydahI have defended men and women on death row for nearly all of my thirty years as a lawyer, and have represented people caught up in the excesses of the “war on terror” since very shortly after that war was launched. For more than a decade, I have been counsel for Zayn al-Abedin Muhammad Hussein, known more widely as Abu Zubaydah. Abu Zubaydah was the first person immured in a “black site,” the clandestine prisons operated around the globe by the CIA from early 2002 to late 2006. He was the first prisoner to have his interrogation “enhanced,” and the only person subjected to all the DOJ-approved interrogation techniques, as well as a number that were never approved (including, for example, rectal rehydration). The infamous torture memo was, in fact, written specifically to legitimize Abu Zubaydah’s torture. At the time of his capture and for years afterward, government officials took great pains to demonize Abu Zubaydah in order to justify his abuse. “The other day,” President George W. Bush announced at a Republican fundraiser in April 2002, “we hauled in a guy named Abu Zubaydah. He’s one of the top operatives plotting and planning death and destruction on the United States. He’s not plotting and planning anymore. He’s where he belongs.” Various senior administration officials described Abu Zubaydah in comparably colorful terms. These pronouncements, however, are not what set the torture scandal into motion. For that, we can thank a “psychological assessment” written by unnamed CIA officers and faxed to John Yoo, the Justice Department lawyer who was the lead author of the torture memo. This document described Abu Zubaydah as “the third or fourth man in al-Qaida” and “a senior Usama Bin Laden lieutenant” who had been “involved in every major al-Qaida terrorist operation” and was “a planner of the 11 September hijackings.” He “managed a network of [al-Qaeda] training camps,” “directed the start-up of a Bin Laden cell in Jordan,” and “served as al-Qaeda’s coordinator of external contacts, or foreign communications.” He was also alleged to be “engaged in ongoing terrorism planning against US interests.” For good measure, he had supposedly written the organization’s “manual on resistance techniques” and had a particular expertise in thwarting conventional interrogations. It was this assessment that provided Yoo with the “facts” needed to legalize the unlawful and rationalize the unthinkable. And so Abu Zubaydah was tortured. As often as it has been repeated, the litany of this torture is still shocking. His captors hurled him into walls and crammed him into boxes and suspended him from hooks and twisted him into shapes that no human body can occupy. They kept him awake for seven consecutive days and nights. They locked him for hours in a freezing room. They left him in a pool of his own urine. They strapped his hands, feet, arms, legs, torso, and head tightly to an inclined board, with his head lower than his feet. They covered his face and poured water up his nose and down his throat until he began to breathe the water, so that he choked and gagged as it filled his lungs. His torturers then left him to strain against the straps as he began to drown. Repeatedly. Until, just when he believed he was about to die, they raised the board long enough for him to vomit the water and retch. Then they lowered the board and did it again. The torturers subjected him to this treatment at least eighty-three times in August 2002 alone. On at least one such occasion, they waited too long and Abu Zubaydah nearly died on the board. * The “facts” recounted above to justify this torture were all false. Abu Zubaydah was no lieutenant to Osama bin Laden. He held no position in al-Qaeda, senior or otherwise. He had no part in September 11 or any other al-Qaeda operations. He did not operate a network of al-Qaeda camps, open an al-Qaeda cell in Jordan, or manage al-Qaeda’s external communications. He did not draft any resistance manual, for al-Qaeda or anyone else, and had no special expertise in resisting interrogations. The government no longer maintains that these assertions are true, and now concedes that Abu Zubaydah was never a member of al-Qaeda. This was the conclusion of the Senate Select Committee on Intelligence, which undertook the most meticulous study of the torture scandal to date, eventually publishing a 500-page summary of its findings. The drafters reviewed more than six million pages of contemporaneous records, from the CIA and other sources, and concluded there was no support for any of these assertions. The CIA has likewise admitted error, and now affirms that Abu Zubaydah was not part of al-Qaeda. This is also the conclusion of the United Nations Security Council, which has removed Abu Zubaydah from its Islamic State and al-Qaeda sanctions list, based on the earlier recommendation of the UN ombudsman, who similarly concluded that Abu Zubaydah was not a member of al-Qaeda. And years ago, the Department of Justice withdrew all allegations that Abu Zubaydah had a connection to the September 11 attacks or played any part in al-Qaeda’s terrorism. When I point this out, many people ask whether I am claiming that Abu Zubaydah is “innocent.” Here, they mean innocence in the Hollywood sense—the wrong-place-wrong-time sort of innocence that has acquired such purchase in American life. Do I maintain that Abu Zubaydah is innocent? This preoccupation with my client’s innocence reminds me of conversations I have often had about capital punishment. The question that occurs to many people when they reflect on the death penalty is whether he (it is almost always a he) “did it.” Other questions—about the limits of state power, the fairness of the penalty, and the legality of the proceeding—simply do not arise. They do not matter so long as the accused committed the offense. The plain fact of guilt supersedes any constitutional qualms. We have now brought this orientation to the new world we once designated “post-9/11,” but now simply accept as normal. Because the demonization of radical Islam has been uncritically embraced by a significant portion of the population and a great many of our elected officials, there is widespread (though not universal) agreement that the federal government may do things to followers of radical Islam that it would never do to a conventional offender—even one the government would seek to execute, like a domestic terrorist who blows up a federal building in Oklahoma City. Thus, many people have come to accept that the government may “enhance” such a person’s interrogation in a way that their former selves would have called torture, and that it may hold him on a remote island without trial or meaningful legal process for the rest of his days. The only question that matters is whether the person falls within the forbidden category. If he does, then he is not “innocent” and his special fate is not only justified, it is salutary, regardless of the constitutional consequences. But if he does not belong to the category of radical Islamist, then he can be considered “innocent” and may be spared. The tragedy of innocence-speak, whether in capital punishment or the post-9/11 world, is that it encourages a childlike fantasy that we live among saints and demons. And it compounds this folly by supposing that the challenge of our time is merely to separate the two as accurately as possible. Having satisfied ourselves that we have done so, we then grant the state the authority to impose nearly any penalty on those who fall on the wrong side of an imaginary line. The obsession with innocence encourages the transmogrification of a human being into a character in a Marvel Comics movie. * The short answer to the question “Is Abu Zubaydah Hollywood-innocent?” is that it doesn’t matter. At least, it shouldn’t. It shouldn’t matter in the legal sense, because if the law were humane, it would not authorize the government to imprison someone for the rest of his days unless he had some specific responsibility for the event that triggered our entry into this endless war. And it shouldn’t matter in the moral sense, because regardless of what he may have done, regardless of whether he is “innocent,” we should not authorize the government to treat him in a way that we would never tolerate if it were done to a dog, or to imprison him incommunicado, in a small, windowless cell, without charges or meaningful process, until he dies, forgotten by a world that has long since moved on. But we do not live in the world that ought to be. We live in the world that is, and most people who ask whether Abu Zubaydah is innocent are not satisfied with what they regard as a non-answer. So for them, the answer is no. Abu Zubaydah would describe himself as a mujahid, which means simply that he is engaged in jihad (literally, “struggle”). Like many others, he has long believed he has a religious obligation to come to the defense of other Muslims who have been attacked, even if the attack comes from an entity as powerful as a government. He has believed this for years, which is why he dedicated himself to the defense of Muslims in Afghanistan during its war against the Communists. And it was a piece of Soviet shrapnel that lodged in Abu Zubaydah’s brain in 1992 as he fought alongside his fellow Muslims against the Soviet-installed puppet government. Back then, Ronald Reagan called the mujahideen “valiant freedom fighters.” He said we supported the mujahideen, and would continue to support them as long as it was needed, because “their cause is our cause: freedom.” Reagan made sure the mujahideen received funding from the CIA, and American leaders thought men like Abu Zubaydah were heroes of the anti-Soviet resistance. After the Communist government in Afghanistan collapsed, bickering factions dragged the country into civil war. Like most mujahideen, Abu Zubaydah had no interest in a conflict that pitted Muslim against Muslim. But there were other places around the world where Muslims were under organized attack. Places like Bosnia. Because of his injury, Abu Zubaydah could no longer serve as a soldier; he simply lacked the physical and mental capacity. So he became a kind of mujahid travel agent. He coordinated the travel of other Muslims into Pakistan, and from Pakistan to a training camp on the Afghanistan-Pakistan border, known to the West as Khalden. Contrary to what the United States believed when its agents tortured Abu Zubaydah, the government now agrees that Khalden was not an al-Qaeda camp. Under bin Laden’s influence, al-Qaeda considered any American a legitimate target, including innocent civilians. Abu Zubaydah, however, like the vast majority of mujahideen, rejected this extremist view; he believed then, and believes now, that attacks on non-combatants, whether American or otherwise, were and are explicitly forbidden by the Koran. (This is also why he believes, like most mujahideen of his era, that the actions of ISIS are an egregious violation of Islamic law.) Although Abu Zubaydah knew bin Laden, the two held irreconcilably opposing views of Islam. The ideological antipathy between bin Laden and the leadership at Khalden was widely known among the mujahideen in Afghanistan and Pakistan. It was precisely because of this antipathy that bin Laden forced the Taliban to close Khalden in 2000. Khalden trained Muslim men to fight in the defense of other Muslims. The men who passed through the camp, however, like people everywhere, were free agents who could use their training as they deemed appropriate. Like most mujahideen, the majority of Khalden trainees went to places like Bosnia to defend Muslims under attack. Some, however, came under the sway of bin Laden and moved to camps run by al-Qaeda. And some of these men would later be recruited by al-Qaeda to take action against the United States. But the leaders of Khalden opposed al-Qaeda’s campaign. In fact, the man described by the United States as a former commander of Khalden, Noor Uthman Muhammed, who was arrested at the same time as Abu Zubaydah and who trained hundreds of men at the camp, was released from Guantánamo nearly five years ago. Abu Zubaydah is thus not Hollywood-innocent. He helped facilitate the movement of scores of Muslim men to a camp that trained them in armed combat. Some of these men were later recruited by al-Qaeda. If the government believes this adds up to a legal indictment, my co-counsel and I will see them in court. We have demanded that he should be either charged or released. The government has never brought any charge against Abu Zubaydah, in either civilian or military court, presumably because it understands that he has committed no crime. Instead, the United States is content that he should be forgotten, out of sight and out of mind. And for this, the government relies on people continuing to imagine him a monster. Because if he is a monster, the government was right to torture him. If he is a monster, it is not just lawful but good that he remains imprisoned indefinitely. If he is a monster, we may do with him what we will. But there are no monsters. There is only us. The post The Innocence of Abu Zubaydah appeared first on GuaripeteMagazine. via GuaripeteMagazine https://ift.tt/2OiiHjz Most dinosaurs are dusted off as fragmentary skeletons. Paleontologists like Stephen Brusatte, author of the recent book, The Rise and Fall of Dinosaurs, say they are “scrappy.” But those few bones can be enough to describe a new species, and on average, a new species is discovered every week. We are in the golden age of paleontology. “We’re up to around fifteen hundred,” Brusatte told me by phone in August. About a third were found in the last decade, with some, like Yi qi in 2015, “going viral and then vanishing from the news cycle.” Yi qi was pigeon-sized; a single specimen was located in northern China. It had feathers, like many dinosaurs, but also fleshy wings, like a bat. “Are you sure Yi qi’s not a Pokémon?” I asked. “It would make an adorable Pokémon,” he said. “Very licensable.” Unfortunately, the reference echoes an insult that Brusatte and his discipline cannot forget: in 1988, the Noble Prize–winning physicist Luis Alvarez told a New York Times reporter that paleontologists were “more like stamp collectors” than “good scientists.” Brusatte laughed. “It’s not about finding them,” he said. “It’s about finding out. The more dinosaurs and other fossils we can study, the more we learn about what’s happened on Earth, and what might happen.” The story of dinosaurs fascinates most children—you probably think you remember the outline. The Mesozoic era saw the periods Triassic, Jurassic, and Cretaceous. The first humble dinosaurs appeared approximately two hundred and forty million years ago, in the Late Triassic. Their ancestors were only as big as house cats. Pangea, meanwhile, had begun “to unzip down its middle,” as Brusatte writes. Continents “bleed lava” when they rend, and volcanoes resulted from the gnarliest of cracks, called fissure vents. Over the course of six hundred thousand years, in pulses, the rift zone threw up orange-red curtains “from hell.” Gases rode up with the flow and warmed the globe to the degree of an extinction event in which thirty percent of all species faded out. The continents continued to drift in an “ancient divorce,” and with thin competition from other vertebrates, dinosaurs diversified in wild shapes and sizes. By the mid-Jurassic, they were everywhere. They ruled. Then, sixty-six million years ago, in the Late Cretaceous, they quite suddenly disappeared. North of seventy percent of species were lost in the fifth mass extinction. Over the years, bunk theories about what damned the dinosaurs suggested cataracts and an out-of-control appetite for each other’s eggs, but scientists also considered an extraterrestrial kill shot—perhaps a comet. Maybe an asteroid. In 1980, Alvarez, the physicist who would pan paleontologists, and his son Walter, a geologist, identified a spike of the rare platinum-like metal iridium in the stratum that dates to the die-off: the smoking gun. Next, a crater with a one hundred and ten–mile diameter was observed beneath the Yucatán Peninsula: the bullet hole. The impact of the asteroid carried the force of a billion A-bombs. It loosed nightmares. The ground morphed “into a trampoline” that bounced even the heaviest dinosaurs “several feet off the ground.” The sky reddened and rained hot glass. Fire swept the forests. Clouds spun into sooty tornados. Tsunamis reared at twice the height of skyscrapers. Volcanos hemorrhaged—and then the heavens blackened and a worldwide winter set in for up to a few thousand years. When the sun finally streamed on the post-apocalyptic planet, the age of dinosaurs had concluded. That is how most everyone thinks it went. But Gerta Keller, a paleontologist tenured at Princeton, and a splinter of others, believe it was not an asteroid in Mexico but volcanic fissures in India. When I asked Brusatte, a former student of Walter Alvarez, about the alternate theory, he dismissed it. “I just stopped myself from likening it to climate change denial, because climate change denial is insidious and political,” he said, adding, “The data—to support Keller’s theory—isn’t there, you know?” I sort of did. I had attended a Pentecostal prep school in Florida which taught that man walked with dinosaurs. “Behold now behemoth, which I made with thee,” Job 40:15 begins. The animal “moveth his tail like a cedar,” scripture continues. “His bones are as strong pieces of brass; his bones are like bars of iron.” Dinosaurs were among the original beasts in the Garden of Eden, and that meant Noah would have dutifully brought them on his ark—in egg form (how he knew which eggs were male and female was never explained, of course). We’d had a visit from Duane Gish, a notorious Young Earth creationist with a Ph.D. in biochemistry from Berkeley. The Gish Gallop, the tactic by which a debater overwhelms their opponent with verbose, zig-zagging untruths, is named after him. When he claimed a scientific team was out looking for the Loch Ness Monster, part of a surviving shoal of elasmosaurs, I was spellbound. After assembly, I bought Gish’s children’s book on the subject, Dinosaurs by Design. I loved the book too much to ever junk it later on. Among other gems, the book contains an illustration of cowboys roping pterodactyls in the American West. It seems to me now a fabulous reflection of our country’s brand. It also speaks to our struggle to live with the ramifications of the fact that the planet is very old and we humans are very new. Around 300 BC, the historian Chang Qu wrote of “dragon bones” found in Sichuan. His is the first record of dinosaur bones in human hands. In 1676, a naturalist named Robert Plot logged part of a thighbone from Oxfordshire with “dimensions, and a weight, so much exceeding the ordinary course of nature” that “it will be hard to find an Animal proportionable to it, both Horses and Oxen falling much short of it.” Plot included drawings, another first. He credited the femur to a giant the likes of Goliath or the big brute in the Cornish fairy tale Jack and the Beanstalk—but the thing was a megalosaur. Charles Dickens’s part-time narrator of Bleak House made the first mention of dinosaurs in fiction in 1852, moaning: “Implacable November weather. As much mud in the streets as if the waters had but newly retired from the face of the earth, and it would not be wonderful to meet a Megalosaurus, forty feet long or so, waddling like an elephantine lizard up Holborn Hill.” At a conference a decade earlier, Dickens’s friend, the Victorian anatomist Richard Owen, first bannered them—Megalosaurus together with Iguanodon and Hylaeosaurus—under the taxon Dinosauria. It meant “terrible reptile.” Following the Great Exhibition of 1851 in London, its famed glass expo building was converted into the world’s first theme park for mass entertainment. Among the draws on the two-hundred-acre grounds was a prehistoric swamp with dinosaurs created from tiles, bricks, and cement: the first full-scale models. On New Year’s Eve, 1853, as a stunt before the June opening, Owen hosted members of the British Association for the Advancement of Science inside the mold for the iguanodont. A chandelier glinted above curried rabbit while Owen sat in the brain area of “the jolly old beast”—at the head of the table—and the men toasted the dinosaurs and H.M. Punch magazine ran their story with the headline “Fun in a Fossil.” The finished menagerie caused the first wave of dinomania; park goers could score figurines of dinosaurs in what may have been the world’s first gift shop. Later, the Crystal Palace would burn. “This is the end of an age,” Churchill pronounced when he heard. But in a twist of fate, the dinosaur sculptures survived. Some were restored for visitors in the aughts--others still languish in disrepair, awaiting sufficient funds. After the theme park opened, in 1954, Charles Darwin dedicated himself to drafting On the Origin of Species. Though torn between faith and science, and allergic to public fights, he published in 1859. The initial run sold out in one day. Owen spat on Darwin’s notion of natural selection. “Believe me,” Darwin signed off in a letter to Owen that year. Modern answers to antique questions were stacking up, and while he did not train his pen on dinosaurs, they were already a once-upon-a-time plot with serious reverb. The bones of dinosaurs mineralized and turned to stone, as fossils. Technology, such as animation software and CAT scans, has taught us much about the way they lived and moved. Dinosaurs had bird-style lungs, which involved a network of air sacs extracting oxygen during both inhalation and exhalation, and which supported and lightened their frames. More likely than not they were warm-blooded, like birds, and “undoubtedly much more birdlike than reptilelike,” Brusatte stressed. Probably most had some kind of feather. The feathers could be colorful: ginger, iridescent. In August, researchers studying flowers trapped in amber announced those plants were making the same compounds as those used today in modern fragrances. When they speculated the dinosaurs were attracted to them, The Cut ran “The 6 Best Perfumes for Dinosaurs”: La Tulipe by Byredo for Stegosaurus, Santal 33 by Le Labo for Triceratops, classed as “the basic bitches of dinosaurs.” I emailed Brusatte: “Is that accurate?” He replied: “Oh God, that one is above my pay grade.” But he had referred to the keystone herbivores as “the cows of the Cretaceous.” Back in 1898, the steel tycoon Andrew Carnegie spotted news in the paper: “Most Colossal Animal Ever on Earth Just Found Out West.” He clipped the item and posted it and a cheque for ten thousand dollars to the director of the Carnegie Museum of Natural History, with a note: “My Lord—can’t you buy this for Pittsburgh—try.” By 1901, the Carnegie Museum had named Diplodocus carnegii, a sauropod with a horizon-long neck and tail. Soon, Carnegie began to gift casts to national museums in Latin America and Europe, making the dinosaur, the museum points out, “the first that millions of people ever saw.” The inaugural copy went on view ahead of the original, in 1905 at the British Natural History Museum, where it was quickly given a pet name: Dippy. Like other national history museums, Paris’s Muséum national d’Histoire naturelle, established in 1635, grew out of the continental Wunderkammer. Their Paleontological Gallery opened around when Carnegie’s dinosaur was being excavated, and, in 1908, the hall received its own Dippy. That day in June, French president Armand Fallières dedicated the mount in front of the public and scientific community; the sight of the more than sixty-five-foot dinosaur, though, was overpowering. “Quelle queue! Quelle queue!” (“What a tail! What a tail!”) Fallières managed. “Diplodoquoi … Diplodocoquus … ” He stammered. Anyway, Dippy’s star turn was over seven years later. The Yanks produced T. rex. As Jurassic World: Fallen Kingdom screened across France this June, the museum welcomed Trix, a Tyrannosaurus rex who was my age, thirty, when she died sixty-seven million years ago. “She’s very beautiful, but you only need five minutes,” a Frenchman told me as he exited the show and I entered it. “Minutes?” I teased. Minutes were ridiculous in the scheme of eras and epochs—as the museum copy inside impressed on readers: “The time that separates T. rex from human beings is only half that between T. rex and the earliest dinosaurs.” Besides Trix, the sole figure in the hall was a statue of the father of paleontology, Georges Cuvier. The naturalist and zoologist had rejected transformisme, later called évolution, but came up with the concept of extinction in the midst of the French Revolution—“probably not coincidentally,” as Elizabeth Kolbert has remarked. Also, a fissure vent had erupted in Iceland for eight months in 1783-84, spewing enough poisonous gas to destroy French harvests, resulting in the food poverty that helped topple the ancien régime. Cuvier scrutinized such “revolutions on the surface of the earth,” and used the fossil record to prove catastrophism. Honoré de Balzac asked, “Have you never launched into the immensity of time and space as you read the geological writings of Cuvier?” About fifty of the tyrannosaurs have been recovered in western North America, in states like Montana, Wyoming, and the Dakotas, plus the provinces Alberta and Saskatchewan. T. rex lorded over the dinosaurs in their final twenty million years. Stephen King’s first horror story, composed when he was a boy, was an account of a town terrorized by a dinosaur, and while King was unavailable to confirm, surely that was a rex. The apex predator’s X factors included a smart car–sized head, banana-sized and -shaped claws, and puny-seeming arms that, in reality, were capable of holding a herbivore with a duckbill good and tight. They were brainy; their vision, hearing, and sense of smell, all sharp. They stalked on tiptoe. They were ambushers who hunted in packs. They had feathers. As teenagers, tyrannosaurs put on five pounds a day, reaching seven to eight tons. “And they lived so hard,” Brusatte writes, “that we have yet to find an individual that was more than thirty years old when it died.” Trix stands thirteen feet tall. She is the color of toasted marshmallows and the texture of driftwood. She was posed in an open-mouthed lurch—with her tail extended, for balance. Her mouth was open as if to swallow the info an au pair was feeding to her charge: “Trix is about seventy-five percent complete. But another T. rex—Sue—is even closer!” Ninety percent of Sue is all there. “You met in Chicago, do you remember?” The caretaker asked the kid, who was standing with an iPhone in the zone the museum recommended for selfies. Sue is darker than Trix. She is more worn brown leather jacket. (“Fossils present with the quarks of whatever minerals took over the bone,” Brusatte explained. “Opalized fossils have come out of Australia.”) McDonald’s and Disney got together in the nineties to buy Sue at auction for the Field Museum. She was put on display in 2000. I was twelve that summer, and I went to the Field. Where the uncertainty surrounding Y2K had filled me with dread about the future, the mystery of the past left me in awe. “It’s funny you should mention that,” New Yorker staffer Paige Williams said on a call, “because Sue came together as part of a special Year 2000 consideration. Jack Daly, a McDonald’s communications executive, thought a cast of Sue would make a great centerpiece for Year 2000 promotions. He told the press, ‘I had been struck by something Bill Clinton had said about the millennium—If you are interested in celebrating the future, try to honor the past.’” (Daly also viewed Sue as “timeless,” something that would “last forever.”) Another tyrannosaur, the Asian version called Tarbosaurus bataar, is at the center of Williams’s true-crime saga, out this month. The Dinosaur Artist is about a poached fossil and the folks—paleontologists and commercial fossil hunters—who try to protect and possess natural history. Her layering of science upon story is so crafted that the book itself could pass as a geological act. “It’s real,” Williams said. “These fossils help people connect to a past that otherwise is a bit unthinkable. There’s a reason paleontologists and geologists have a word for it: deep time.” In Paleoart (an XL book by TASCHEN), Zoë Lescaze assembles depictions of dinosaurs from 1830 up to 1990, before the digital age changed how they were conceived of and rendered. It includes murals, paintings, engravings, frescos, lithographs, and sculptures, like those made for Crystal Palace Park. When I showed the Dinosaurs by Design illustration to Lescaze, she recalled parallels mapped by the art historian W. J. T. Mitchell between dinosaurs and cowboys: “icons,” “big and strong, but doomed to disappear, embodying both outsize power and obsolescence.” In the book, she writes, “(Dinosaurs came) into public consciousness in the same period, and as a product of the same forces, that produced the tank, the locomotive, the steamboat, and the skyscraper. The cutting open of the Western landscape by the railroads was spilling dinosaur bones out of their primeval graves.” The scene oozes turn-of-the-century race anxiety. “If prehistoric reptiles symbolize extinction,” she told me, “then to lasso a pterosaur on horseback is to be the master of death.” She considers such images “oddly touching.” Taken together, the Williams, Brusatte, and Lescaze titles—all published within the last year—form the ultimate survey: an education consumable as entertainment. T. rex skeletons have always been articulated for audiences with that sense of double duty, and today the tradition is advanced by Sue’s Twitter account. Nearly forty-three thousand follow Sue for such bon mots as “I’m ‘Tropical South Dakota’ years old.” She slavers over Jeff Goldblum, kvetches about the social-media grind, and edifies the masses—as one devotee had it, “sue woke af yo.” But she also relentlessly picks fights. (Specimen FMNH PR 2081 has been called an “apex troll.”) “THIS JUST IN,” she tweeted at the Monterey Bay Aquarium in August, “SEA OTTERS ARE ADORABLE AND IMPOSSIBLY PHOTOGENIC AND YOU STILL CAN’T LEVERAGE THAT AGAINST A DEAD (BUT SASSY) OSTRICH MONSTER.” The aquarium fired back: “just in: the bones of a pre-extinct organism are more popular than a mission to inspire conservation of the Ocean, prolly bc big skulls with sharp teeth are less scary than introspection and fundamental changes in our society to prevent going the way of the murderchickens.” The sentiment is catching. Last year, London’s Natural History Museum replaced Dippy with a skeleton of a blue whale, an animal very nearly hunted to extinction in the sixties and now deemed more “relevant.” They named her “Hope.” It was a controversial move. Brusatte appeared on live television with the marine biologist Helen Scales. He was meant to take Dippy’s side, she was meant to take Hope’s, but both told me they agreed on the newcomer. And yet, dinosaurs are unrivaled mementos, “picked up, looked at, and pondered over,” as Williams put it. Such is the perspective from the Anthropocene: five major extinctions later, we’re in a self-inflicted sixth. We don’t generally think of our selves as living in deep time, and because of that Keller has said, a gradual doom like climate change does not really impress. Our lifespans are “so short,” added Brusatte, our attention spans are “so fidgety” that we are unable to appreciate temperature and sea-level upticks “over even a few years.” We worry about the immediate, like the doom that befell the dinosaurs. We worry that our home is due for a supervolcano blowup or an asteroid strike. Or that we will nuke ourselves. Recently, The New Yorker posted a cartoon of Back to the Future’s Michael J. Fox and Christopher Lloyd ensnared in the DeLorean between the teeth of a T. rex. “Yeah, whatever,” says Lloyd. “At least we got the hell out of 2018.” Many humans retweeted it. So did Sue. Chantel Tattoli is a freelance journalist. She’s contributed to the New York Times Magazine, VanityFair.com, the Los Angeles Review of Books, and Orion and is at work on a cultural biography of Copenhagen’s statue of the Little Mermaid. The post The Surprising History (and Future) of Dinosaurs appeared first on GuaripeteMagazine. via GuaripeteMagazine https://ift.tt/2QikiU5 A French cult classic from 1972 is being published in English for the first time. Jean-Jacques Schuhl answered the door in slippers, no socks. He offered me, in knowing jest, bio coffee, bio juice, or bio wine (bio is French shorthand for something close to organic). I asked for the coffee. He shuffled out, came back with china in hand, and reported that it was still warm. I cleared a spot on the table between messy piles of paper. Schuhl’s first novel, the 1972 cult classic Rose poussiere, has recently been published in English for the first time by Semiotext(e) under the title Dusty Pink. It’s a slim little thing, a collage of mixed materials: assorted tear sheets, facsimiles, and news clippings like the ones across his table. Somehow, the net effect is as much a leering void as it is a mosaic of cultural scraps. The cumulative emptiness is as central to the work as the careful text. At seventy-six, Schuhl’s artistic output has been startlingly small: three books and a handful of essays. In a French publishing landscape where most writers chase mass-market success, Schuhl is what’s left of an underground that can no longer exist. Schuhl is obsessed with creating a kind of noise that opposes the broadcast of social networks. He riffs on the sounds (and silences) of the late sixties and early seventies countercultures in London, Paris, and New York, of which he was a member and a keen observer. He’s never had any interest in the literary scene, preferring the company of those who work in the theater, on the stage. I found, through a roundabout online search, a rare picture of Schuhl with his friends Jean-Luc Godard, Jean Eustache, and Jean-Pierre Léaud. In Dusty Pink, Schuhl presents both a veiled criticism of and a longing for the end of the long sixties, up until 1976, and its drug-addled nightlife. His use of artifacts, such as race wire results and magazine tear sheets, gives him the distance to fetishize a moment by creating a cut-and-paste eulogy of its passing. Schuhl’s quick takes on the shifting seventies have aged to reveal that they had a prophetic quality. The title, a shade of cosmetic, is all the more provocative in today’s era of twenty-year-old “self-made” beauty billionaires. Schuhl’s second novel, Ingrid Caven, was published in 2000 (and in the U.S. in 2004, by City Lights) and went on to win France’s prestigious Prix Goncourt. Ingrid Caven is named for Schuhl’s partner, a German film actress and singer previously married to Rainer Werner Fassbinder. That novel is a more narrative history of seventies counterculture, filled with a rotating cast of famous names including Yves Saint Laurent, Marlene Dietrich, Ava Gardner, and Mao Zedong. But straight reality doesn’t interest Schuhl. He prefers to write a hybrid of recollection and fantasy. Ingrid Caven originated when a German publishing house asked Caven to write an autobiography. She, in turn, asked Schuhl if he had any interest in writing it for her. “I told her that I hate biography—which is true. I had this idea to make a false biography, a novel, this kind of novel,” he said. “Thanks to her, I had an archive a domicile. If I needed something, she was there, like impressionists who painted their wives.” Ingrid Caven is often miscast as either a riff on autofiction, or an accurate chronicle of Paris in the seventies. “It is a book very much in the present, but it is misunderstood because two or three scenes take place (back then),” Schuhl said. “The subject—the reason for the book—was the defense and illustration of a certain style which had disappeared. A style made of high and low.” The first chapter of Ingrid Caven begins with sheet music scattered around a spread of cosmetics. Schuhl writes:
In the opening section of Dusty Pink, titled “The Boots,” Schuhl gives the address of a store where exact copies of the ankle-high boots worn by riot cops during the student protests of 1968 can be found: “DELICATA BROTHERS ORTHOPEDICS, 84, boulevard Saint-Germain, Paris.” (The footnote mentions its baroque window display.) He also notes that such boots are loaned by the state; they don’t belong to anyone. This is another theme of special interest: things that are ownerless or without a single author, like the events that make up the headlines of the day’s news or a collective undercurrent of sentiment. Before going to see Schuhl, I stopped by the above address. A blue plaque with a white “84” hung over a double door. To the left, there was a tourist souvenir shop with spinning racks of postcards and refrigerator magnets. To the right, a shuttered comic book shop called Album, with an enlarged speech bubble stuck to the empty windows announcing its new location. I took a few photos on my phone for Schuhl. He quoted Baudelaire: “The form of a city changes more quickly, alas! than the human heart.” Looking back at Dusty Pink, Schuhl regretted having given so much space to the Rolling Stones, whom he saw as having become a kind of vulgarity, “a huge cash machine.” He offered that a solution could have been to leave in only the late Brian Jones. “I remember when I saw them at the Olympia in Paris. Jones interested me very much, much more so than Mick Jagger. He had a kind of absence, an air of no importance.” From under a stack on the table in front of us, Schuhl pulled out a small edition of Mallarmé’s Oeuvres Completes, with a bright green cord bookmark and a dozen place-holding paper scraps. Schuhl found Baudelaire to be visually oriented; Mallarmé, purely verbal. Both poets were capable of a feat he had failed at, he said. “With painting, as well as several kinds of poetry, you have all the space, it’s translated immediately. Time stops—everything is given in an instant,” he told me. “And I like the instant— I don’t much like the flow of time.” Schuhl explained that he attempted to capture singular moments with his writing, but felt he could not. “But I must try.” Along with narrative, he expressed similar dislike for things that were monolithic, essential, or one piece. In Dusty Pink, footnotes break up any singular body of the text. He told me he didn’t like “eternal creations nor masterpieces,” and was a big fan of print journalism (though not Internet journalism, he specified). “I like dust, the froth of things,” he told me. “It is a way to explode the heart. You blow on the book and the sentences, the letters, they fly away.” Stephanie LaCava is a New York–based writer and the founder of Small Press Books. The post The Last of French Seventies Counterculture appeared first on GuaripeteMagazine. via GuaripeteMagazine https://ift.tt/2Ol6f2A “There is no story that is not true,” says Uchendu halfway through Chinua Achebe’s Things Fall Apart. Storytelling is at the core of Brooklyn-based artist Toyin Ojih Odutola’s drawings, which focus on the fictional narrative of TMH Jideofor Emeka, male heir of a long-standing noble clan, who marries Temitope Omodele, the son of a bourgeois family with recently acquired wealth. The power couple are cultural leaders in their community, and they exhibit their renowned art collection at notable art venues in the United States. Ojih Odutola deepens the fiction by presenting her own exhibitions as curated by the fictional couple, for whom she is the Deputy Private Secretary. The thirty-three-year-old artist left Nigeria with her family at an early age, and spent her formative years in Huntsville, Alabama. Her new show, “When Legends Die,” at the Jack Shainman Gallery in New York, dedicates two rooms to approximately thirty-five drawings. The press release, written by Ojih Odutola, explains that the show is organized by the lord’s nephew upon the aging couple’s decision to include the next generation of clan members in their curatorial work. I met Ojih Odutola at Jack Shainman Gallery in August, when the artist was busy finalizing her drawings for her exhibition at the gallery. INTERVIEWER Storytelling is a crucial part of your practice. Do you write your stories before illustrating them? OJIH ODUTOLA I don’t consider myself a writer. My writing is as episodic as my drawings. Once I sort out a story’s outline and key themes, I select the scenes I want to explore more deeply, and they eventually transform into sketches. At this point I’ll also focus on research about a specific time period in Nigeria. With that scaffolding, I delve into plot points and build out the characters’ relationships to one another. Depending on how complex a particular drawing is, I’ll do ten to twenty sketches. I am weaving something that I hope is not necessarily about text, which is like a safety net for me, but rather about a visual language with cues that words cannot provide. However, I need text to give me the permission to draw. They are two intertwining paths. INTERVIEWER In the narrative background you provide for the work, you relinquish your authorship. OJIH ODUTOLA I wanted to distance myself, as Toyin, from the work. When I started this series in 2016, I was wary of how even my fictional work was still about me as an artist of color. My otherness often precedes the content of the work, almost like a cloud before the viewer. Once I became the Deputy Private Secretary on the press release, the viewer stopped looking into my involvement and tried to grasp the story. I was freed from the distraction of the story somehow being about me. With this new role, I have the freedom to say, I am the communication liaison between the public and this family, but I only reveal just enough of what I find necessary. The work is not about a mythology or a presumption about African-ness. The viewer is immersed in the narrative, an alternative reality. For example, the story’s key figures are two gay men, even though, in reality, it’s illegal to be gay in Nigeria. INTERVIEWER The marriage of those two men anchor the entire story. How did you decide to place two gay men in positions of power? OJIH ODUTOLA This is actually a very matriarchal family, but the two men comprise the core. I had the idea of a gay couple coming into power since the very beginning—even before I had any concept about the families. The beauty is that whatever happens in each chapter, they’re the reason we are in the room. There would not be an exhibition if their love did not exist, if they didn’t loan their collection. I always want to underline this role they possess. The words his husband are always very evident in the exhibition materials. When my father saw those two words at the Whitney, he asked, confused, if there was a typo. Seconds later, however, he wanted to learn about their story, and asked me to take his photo with a painting of theirs. I hear people say they carry those two men with them outside the exhibition. The idea of their union becomes less of a fantasy and more of a reality, one in which Goodluck Jonathan never signed the Same-Sex Marriage Prohibition Act for imprisonment of LGBT individuals in 2014. I had initially planned to create the series only about them, but I began to realize the beauty is in not only in their union, but in everything that stems from it—just like coming out as gay, it opens up other possibilities. INTERVIEWER Can you tell me about the decisions you have made concerning shifting skin tones in your images? OJIH ODUTOLA A character in three different stories has three different skin tones. They are different reverberations of the same skin, each reflecting an experience. Skin is a place we inhabit and have to mitigate while moving through the world. Over various iterations, I transitioned from charcoal skin to pastel. Instead of every figure having the same patina, they’ve gained multitonal diversity. I want the skin to feel alive and distinctive for each character. I felt my hand gestures change. Although they are strictly drawings, I am aware of their painterly quality. The skin also evolves with age, which is in the current exhibition as many characters are approaching their forties and fifties alongside fresh young faces making their debut. Although the previous iterations have been chronologically slippery, with light references to the stylistic accents of the seventies and eighties, this final iteration clearly brings the story to the present. These characters also own the freedom to travel. How do you capture experience in a drawing? Again, with the skin. A face or skin tone extends to the space surrounding the character. It is activated, almost coming off the surface and into real life. I am committed to illustrating the freedom to be in a body and move through space. Toyin Ojih Odutola: When Legends Die remains on view at Jack Shainman Gallery through October 27, 2018. Osman Can Yerebakan is a New York-based art writer and curator. His writing has appeared in New York Times: T Magazine, Village Voice, Brooklyn Rail, BOMB, CULTURED, GARAGE, Galerie Magazine, Amuse, Elephant, Harper’s Bazaar Arabia, and L’Officiel. The post There is No Story That is Not True: An Interview with Toyin Ojih Odutola appeared first on GuaripeteMagazine. via GuaripeteMagazine https://ift.tt/2QikuCR |
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