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So that she would not have to stop for food she kept a hard-boiled egg on the passenger seat of the Corvette. She could shell and eat a hard-boiled egg at seventy miles an hour (cracking it on the steering wheel, never mind salt, salt bloats, no matter what happened she remembered her body) and she drank Coca-Cola in Union 76 stations, Standard stations, Flying As.

The Accidental Activist

6:59 AM: Text to Aram Jibilian, boyfriend and fellow performer: “Nervous as fuck. Cop car right in front of me.” No response. Alone with fear. Time to move.

At the Merce Fair

Now, as mythology and nostalgia swell in the wake of Cunningham’s life and achievement, the movement matters more than ever. If Lincoln Center’s mid-July presentation “Merce Fair” was more Wal-Mart than high art, the day nevertheless provided a real opportunity to see the company at work and the ideas in action.

In Proximity of a Public in Process

When I signed up for Xavier Le Roy’s ProSeries workshop at the ImPulsTanz festival in Vienna, I knew little of his work, even though, having spent the last four years in France, I’d heard his name so frequently that I had started to sense that, on some level, I knew what he was up to.


I chose to begin in front of my apartment. I was alone, and I felt a bit silly. It was raining. I was reminded of my great-grandmother, sitting on her porch in Small Town, Illinois. Watching. Day after day after day. This is no longer something that many of us do.


The Brooklyn Rail

SEPT 2011

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