Louise Erdrich’s novels, many of them set on Native American reservations, take seriously Faulkner’s notion that the past is neither dead nor buried nor, even, past. In the words of Erdrich herself, a member of the Turtle Mountain Band of Chippewa and the author of more than twenty books, “history …
There is much to recommend Sharp Objects: its visual language is rich and fugal, and rewards close watching. But the dissatisfaction of the show’s conclusion speaks to a larger confusion in the aim of the series. At the conclusion of the series, it turns out that the show’s fixation on disturbed women is instantiated by more characters than just its protagonist, Camille. And whereas the show seems, at its midpoint, to use the murders to access the Camille’s complex and damaged psyche, by the end it seems that our protagonist’s trauma was being used all along simply to lead us to try to solve the murders.
Young people dressed in bright puffer jackets and pom pom hats were accompanied by older chaperones, some wearing buttons and stickers, and holding signs that conveyed simple messages of urgency: Protect kids, not guns, Books not bullets, and Arms for hugging, not for killing (in the uneven crayon scrawl of a seven-year-old named Henry).
Julian Rosefeldt’s installation Manifesto features different characters, each one played by the virtuosic, versatile Cate Blanchett, reciting what Rosefeldt calls “text collages,” which are woven together from different artists’ manifestos under the heading of an artistic movement—Conceptual Art/Minimalism, for instance, or Situationism. The seams between the texts are hard to detect, and the seamlessness suggests something not only about the ways in which ideas and themes reverberate and cycle throughout history, but also about the artifice of historical periodization.