You think you've seen everything there is to see about Picasso, and then you see the new Museum of Modern Art sculpture retrospective. It shows how clever and engaged Picasso was with the immediate world around him, that his method of bricolage, taking things from this and that to craft his sculpture, was so original and so charming. For years artists have been inspired by Picasso. I imagine a whole new generation seeing this show and being similarly stimulated.
Memory, like truth, can be elusive. And as everyone knows, it can play tricks. But rarely is it as perplexing as in Pinter's Old Times,...
First there was the stage and TV series of Wolf Hall. And now the Metropolitan Opera is giving Ann Boleyn's side of the story with a revival of Donizetti's Anna Bolena, and the ill-fated second wife of King Henry VIII couldn't have a better advocate than the superb Sondra Radvanovsky to plead her case.
It's all about sex. Even when we think it's about Queen and Country. Or family values. Or power. Or money. It's really about sex, and a delightfully ribald revival of Caryl Churchill's play Cloud Nine by the Atlantic Theatre Company makes the case.
Picasso. Balthus. Iconic artists. Also, big cat fans, and lovers of women. Now throw in a little chill downtime, and you've got the perfect symbiotic, painterly marriage.
Austin, TX has long been known as a town with a rich and vibrant independent music scene. The home of Willie Nelson and Gary Clark, Jr. sports no shortage of interesting acts, some of which I've had the pleasure of seeing in my travels.
A serial about two artists with incurable neurological disease sharing fear, frustration and friendship as they push to complete the most rewarding creative work of their careers.
Ethel Merman. Angela Lansbury. Bernadette Peters. Patti LuPone. Imelda Staunton. One name, pretty clearly, doesn't belong on that list of larger-than-life musical comedy stars--and, thus, seems an unlikely candidate for the larger-than-life role of Rose in Gypsy. But that distinction is the key to what makes the current West End Gypsy, at the Savoy, so indomitable.
Like nature, his art creates and destroys, and like life, it is in constant transformation. It is an art that accepts its own temporality and does not seek immortality. It has to die in the water to again become one with nature, and reach out into eternity.
More than half a century after they were made (and in a style that might seem quite corny), these films demonstrate the changing demographics of those who have embraced new options in mass transit.
Now Sam Shepard's Fool for Love is on Broadway under Daniel Aukin's expert direction at the Samuel J. Friedman Theater, an MTC production from the highly charged Williamstown revival this past summer.
The second-biggest surprise of Anna Ziegler's new play, Photograph 51, is that Ziegler has managed to take this dryly historic tale and turn it into an engrossing scientific whodunit, or rather, who'll-do-it.
Shepard is a terrific actor, an admirable artist and devoted to theater. I want to be a fool for his work -- I have ever since buying that collection back in college with student loan money I should have saved for food. I just wish I had more chances to judge his work where it belongs: on stage.