Laments about the grammar gaffes of others are really laments about them as people: their intelligence, their politics, even their ethics. When it comes to language, we do, and should, take it personally.
Famed anarchist Emma Goldman led the sort of life biographers dream of. Born in imperial Russia in 1869, Goldman arrived stateside in 1885, where her anti-authoritarian sympathies incubated among the émigré radicals of New Yorks Lower East Side.
Historian John Treschs first book, The Romantic Machine, concerns itself with complicating the binary invoked by its title: the opposition, long entrenched in Western culture, between the romantic and the mechanical, and all of the ancillary antagonisms that this divide conjuresemotion versus reason, spirit versus matter, artists versus technocrats.
Editor John Burnham makes his claim boldly in the collections opening pages: far from an addendum, America was the nation where Freuds insights enjoyed the greatest cultural purchase and the most enduring institutional embrace.
Timed to Agnes Martins long-term installation at Dia:Beacon, this essay collection, organized by Dias staff, seeks to distill the essential ambivalences of Martins production: those pendent questions of what her art really means.
In the early months of 2010, a trove of loose-leaf paper was discovered in Louise Bourgeoiss Chelsea apartment. Marked with pen, pencil, and typewriter ink, the pages featured a fluent blend of French and English prose, punctuated by an occasional drawing.
Like its publisher, Corrected Slogans sidles curiously between print and digital.