by Carlos Manuel Álvarez, translated from the Spanish by Frank Wynne
Turcos en la niebla [The Disoriented Ones]
by Enrique Del Risco
Anyone who lives under the sign of things Cuban—as a national on the island, an exile in the diaspora, or (like me) an American-born descendant of Cubans—knows what it’s like to contend with the persistent scrutiny of one’s political views by both Cubans and non-Cubans.
Against Our Will: Sexual Trauma in American Art Since 1970
by Vivien Green Fryd
In 1974 the performance artist Marina Abramovic stood naked and immobile in a Naples gallery. Next to her was a table with seventy-two objects, including a loaded gun. Beside the objects was a document absolving the audience of responsibility for whatever they might choose to do to her with those objects. Freeing the audience from accountability turned the performance into an exposé of their ethics: they became actors in a scenario as well as witnesses of one another’s behavior. Some of them made violent gestures toward Abramovic—they were not exclusively sexual, but many were. She endured cuts to her skin as well as what one critic described as intimate caresses and minor sexual assaults before the audience erupted into a fight when a participant put the gun to her head. Interestingly, as soon as Abramovic ceased to be immobile and began to walk toward the people around her, they fled the gallery rather than reckoning with what they had done.
The latest edition of our brief dispatches by New York Review writers documenting the coronavirus outbreak around the world, including Coco Fusco in Brooklyn, Lucas Adams in Brooklyn, Sara Nović in Philadelphia, Gavin Francis in Edinburgh, Amanda Fortini in Livingston, Jeet Thayil in Bangalore, Stuart Lewis in Brooklyn, Nellie Hermann in Wellfleet, Carina del Valle Schorske in Manhattan, Jonathan Mingle in Lincoln, Reed Lindsay in Havana, Miranda Popkey in Watertown, Joshua Jelly-Schapiro on Fire Island, Dan Chiasson in Wellesley, and more.