What do Tennessee Williams, slash fiction, and the comment sections of family-planning sites have in common? Well, they’re all widely discussed in Everyone’s Fine with Virginia Woolf, Kate Scelsa’s bitingly hilarious riff on Edward Albee’s 1962 classic Who’s Afraid of Virginia Woolf?
Posts by Angelica Frey:
In the middle of the Mad Hatter’s Tea Party, a tin full of dried worms was passed around, and I was strongly encouraged to sample one.
Between the Egg House on the Lower East Side and the Dream Machine in Greenpoint, there’s no shortage of Insta-friendly environments in the city right now. But that didn’t stop weekend warriors from lining up for House of Color: Monochrome, CJ Hendry’s ever-so-colorful installation in Greenpoint.
Mari Andrew is a fan of winding and convoluted roads. One of her illustrations, “Procrastination: The Videogame,” portrays the obstacles between ourselves and a productive day a la Snakes and Ladders (e.g. the “FOREST of New Spring Arrivals email”). So it makes sense that her debut book, out March 27, is titled Am I There Yet? The Loop-de-Loop, Zigzagging Journey to Adulthood.
Ashley Rose Couture’s collections have always been a mix of the bizarre and the Harper’s Bazaar, but on Tuesday the Massachusetts-based designer really outdid herself by debuting a new line based on the medical specimens at Alamo Drafthouse’s creepy House of Wax.
Okay, it’s not quite a Scratch N Sniff art exhibit, but it’s close. On a Tipped Chair, an olfactory-visual show at the Gallery at The Sheen Center, features a dozen oil paintings and drawings by Canadian-born Jared Boechler; half of them are accompanied by scents in the form of leather straps placed under tiny bell jars. Many of Boechler’s paintings are inspired by emotions triggered by a particular scent, from burnt durum to lemongrass.
If print is dead, Catland is determined to commune with the spirits. The Bushwick occult bookstore is planning to launch a print magazine, come Spring equinox.
At the helm will be Melissa Madara, an owner of Catland and a witch deriving her practice from Croatian and Pennsylvania Dutch traditions. “I firmly believe in analog media,” she told Bedford + Bowery. “I get a lot of questions, as the owner of a bookshop, about how long I think I’ll have my job in the era of Amazon and Kindle. I always just tell those people that they have no romance. The allure of bookshops and physical media will never go out of style.” She credits Catland’s recent fundraiser for laying the groundwork for this project.
Back in June, when Joseph Meloy and Alexandria Hodgkins saw an ad for a storefront at 53 Avenue B, they fell in love with the building, and understandably so: it’s light purple and its facade has palm tree, heart and animal shapes cast by the landlord, Antonio Echeverri. Within days, the married couple and their business partner, Nyssa Frank, had rented the 250-square-foot storefront to use as a Manhattan outpost of their Bushwick gallery, The Living Space.
Meloy, a native Lower East Sider, felt good about bringing a new art space “back home.”
For the past years, Company XIV has twirled, leaped and pranced– and not just during their bawdy, outre reimaginings of Snow White and The Nutcracker. Ever since the circus-burlesque-opera ensemble lost their Gowanus home due to flooding in 2012, they’ve moved every season, performing at Colonnade Row in NoHo, at Minetta Lane Theatre in the West Village, at the Irondale Theatre in Fort Greene and, most recently, at the Slipper Room.
In one of Liana Finck’s cartoons, a man and a woman sit at a bar. “I want to be upfront with you. I am a more or less functioning alcoholic,” he tells her.
“He is so self aware!” the girl with heart-shaped eyes thinks to herself, smiling.
When Toshi Salvino met me at a café in East Williamsburg, she sported wide-striped tights, chunky platform boots, black shorts, and a black t-shirt portraying an aurora-colored robotic goddess courtesy of Heather Hermann, an artist who worked under Yoshitaka Amano. Her bubblegum-pink hair was coiffed in a casual updo, and embellished by several ribbon-shaped barrettes. She had dotted her face with freckles and her eye makeup was vaguely reminiscent of Natalie Portman’s Black Swan; she wore a mauve metallic lipstick, which would make any other person look like Laura Palmer’s corpse.
The festival was the brainchild of a man who goes by MARS, the CEO of the Tokyo-based animation studio and creative ad agency Hot Zipang. MARS realized that Americans, happy to eat frankensushi in the ’80s, have since become more attuned to Japanese culture, to the degree that umami is now a part of their vocabulary. He decided this was a good time to showcase the country’s offerings.