“She wants me all for herself. I know you want to help, but Harrow knows that too. She’s already f_cked with your life. She knows how to drive you away. And she will.”

“I told the story of reality to myself as if it were a fiction, for to be immersed in anything less would have burned the skin off me neatly as real uranium.”

“She felt Arcturus’ desire in her bones as deeply as she had that fateful matinee when the vaulted frescoes had split above them. Even if it now inverted towards another.”

In a season when performance venues are purchasing house plants to take the seats of their patrons, the impressive effort that Fall for Dance North put into digitally staging their 2020 Signature Program will be a welcome respite for dance lovers isolating at home. Their six world premieres—some broadcast live from the Fleck Dance Theatre and others prerecorded—are available on demand from now until the 18th, meaning you can stream and restream performances that would otherwise already be the stuff of memory. Embracing the ephemeral has always been a necessary element in dance appreciation, but audiences have a fresh opportunity to go back and experience these works throughout the festival. And the greatest benefit of their remote program? You can exclaim, gasp, sigh, and respond any way you like without disturbing other patrons in a darkened theatre.

Misogyny is not natural. It is a series of beliefs, entitlements, resentful desires, illogical rationalizations, comfortable conclusions, ragged hungers, and terrified insecurity that thrive off of a constructed “other”. It does not fit anywhere into a structure of sense and order. It’s a craggy growth that’s coated centuries of civilization because of the intoxicating relief it offers fearful, fragile minds that bond with one another through contempt.

I almost never see modern depictions of sexuality so playful, affectionate, fun—so mutual. In each postcard both people are comfortable, excited, and focused on each other; I feel short-changed that something so basic is depressingly rare in sexual media I see today. I felt cheated once I realized what made them so dazzling to me. It should not be rare and magical to find erotic art that depicts consensual, joyful, attentive erotic play.

With a mind called mad and a body that was described as the vessel of a god, fin-de-siècle superstar Vaslav Nijinsky elevated and expanded what ballet as an art form could be in the 20th century. And if Neumeier’s pressurized depiction of this man’s life is incorporated into more ballet companies’ repertoires, then he’ll be that transformative once-in-a-century voice for the 21st.

Trollope illustrates how a thorough self-knowledge of one’s own mind, as well as a sensitive, honest observation and analysis of the world give one a profoundly judicial sense of honour. Through an exploration of the different ways duty is observed, the discrepancies between honesty and delusion, and the resiliency that a strong will can supply, it becomes clear not only that a perceptive mind has a great capacity for honour, but also for resilience and happiness.

By contrasting the political realms of Egypt and Elsinore, one can examine the effect that power, or lack thereof, has on a woman in love. Love being a mixture of passion and will, it manifests in the complexities of their identities, the forms of manipulation they engage with, and finally, the manner in which each woman takes her own life.

The brain has mysterious ways of healing itself, and this was mine. About a year ago I finished a crafting project inspired by Sharon Needles, and I’ve never shared it with other fans because it was such a personal reflection of my own transformation. Her courage and integrity as an artist provided a latticework on which I could heal myself during the most difficult, isolated period of my life. The transfusion needle that weaves through the work was its central driving metaphor: Sharon gave me what I needed to heal myself when I was broken.

I’ve written a crafting journal on the making and purpose of this gift for Sharon Needles, but please feel free to peruse just images of the train case from brainstorming phase to finished product.

Misogyny is not natural. It is a series of beliefs, entitlements, resentful desires, illogical rationalizations, comfortable conclusions, ragged hungers, and terrified insecurity that thrive off of a constructed “other”. It does not fit anywhere into a structure of sense and order. It’s a craggy growth that’s coated centuries of civilization because of the intoxicating relief it offers fearful, fragile minds that bond with one another through contempt.

As an isolated child who felt like an alien on this planet, David Bowie had functioned as a creative polestar to follow out of the darkness. He also served as a kind of primordial god to the culture we enjoy today. So when I was twenty-six, working a soul-crushing job riddled with sexual harassment, and woke up to read that David Bowie had died, I shut myself off from the world for 5 days to mourn. I also quit that job, and because I was home mourning, was able to snag an opportunity that put me on a creative career path that might have passed me by otherwise. There’s a special grace in the fall of a sparrow, and an even greater grace in the death of a god.