Claire Phillips

Claire Phillips is the author of the memoir A Room with a Darker View: Chronicles of My Mother & Schizophrenia and the fantastic novella Black Market Babies. Her writing has appeared in Black Clock, Joyland, Largehearted Boy Blog, Los Angeles Review of Books, Motherboard-Vice, and Vol. 1 Brooklyn among other places. She is the recipient of the American Academy of Poets, First Prize, a nominee for a Pushcart Prize, and a notable mention in The Best American Essays 2015.

Cellophane Bricks: A Life in Visual Culture and A Different Kind of Tension: New and Selected Stories, Jonathan Lethem’s two recent collections spanning decades in his writing life, form a dual capstone that is at once heavy and light, their mood reminiscent of the surreal symbolism of transactional exchanges.

JONATHAN LETHEM with Claire Phillips

Cross-genre memoir remains enduringly popular. Comedian and cult performer Maria Bamford skillfully contributes to this acclaimed genre with her bestselling memoir, Sure, I’ll Join Your Cult: A Memoir of Mental Illness and the Quest to Belong Anywhere

MARIA BAMFORD with Claire Philips
Glimmering and shivering with stylistic nuances, Mother Howl is a deeply affecting look at American violence, its traumatic aftermath, and the very real possibility of repair.
Craig Clevenger with Claire Phillips
A couple is lying in bed. A woman, with her arms raised and left knee bent, leans languorously on the man behind her, who buries his face in a pillow. Bright light from the open curtains falls over the peaks and valleys of their bodies. We feel awkward as we stumble into their private sphere. But are we voyeurs or invaders? The feeling prevails through Wild Horses, Sim Smith gallery’s exhibition of paintings and photographs in southeast London, which focuses upon the subject of couples in various guises.
Kate Groobey, Hey, We're Making It, 2021. Watercolor on paper, 16 1/2 x 11 3/4 inches. Courtesy Sim Smith.
Written with great bravura, this first-person essay collection is as carefully researched as it is revealing; and will undoubtedly find itself a classic among the robust literature on Kahlo.
Emily Rapp Black with Claire Phillips
There is a man floating in the bathtub. Iridescent violet, red, and ochre seem to seep from his pores into the sultry waters below, staining the porcelain bath and tiles. We feel the humidity pressing in, as if someone has just pulled the bathroom door shut. The air is intoxicating and close; we could be in the midst of a fever dream.
Doron Langberg, Bather, 2021. Oil on linen, 80 x 96 inches. Courtesy Victoria Miro, London.
Through her work, Brice reclaims the female nude, depicting a cast of women who do not perform for the pleasure of the male gaze, but for their own.
Lisa Brice, Untitled, 2021. Oil on tracing paper, 16 1/2 x 11 3/4 inches. © Lisa Brice. Courtesy the artist; Stephen Friedman Gallery, London and Salon 94, New York.
At the heart of Packer’s first institutional show outside the US is the desire to make visible the invisible and do justice to stories like Sandra Bland’s, creating space in which to mourn Black deaths.
Jennifer Packer, Say Her Name, 2017. Oil on canvas, 40 x 48 inches. Courtesy the artist, Corvi-Mora, London, and Sikkema Jenkins & Co, New York. Photo: Matt Grubb.
Life in 2020 is starting to feel like one big can of worms. That is how David Shrigley seems to think we might be feeling about it in any case. For his largest solo exhibition to date, DO NOT TOUCH THE WORMS (2020), the Turner Prize-nominee known for his distinctly wry British humor has filled a gallery of Copenhagen Contemporary’s industrial warehouse on Refshaleøen island with twenty, larger-than-life, inflatable replicas of the pink, writhing creatures.
Installation view: David Shrigley, DO NOT TOUCH THE WORMS, Copenhagen Contemporary, 2020. Photo: David Stjernholm.

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