Articles
In Central Park’s Conservatory Garden, a supercilious formality reigns.
At the New Museum, OMA serves up reheated retrospection.
A positivist pool, a billion oysters, and the eternal sunshine of the short 2010s
Home is where I want to be, but I guess I’m already there.
In the rarefied, privileged enclaves of elegant urban life, downtown supermarkets like the one I remember from my hometown did not shut down but thrived and often became enduring cultural references.
Stories and Set Designs for The Sopranos ran from February 14 to May 31 at the Museum of the Moving Image.
Return to that precarious, aspirational year, 1997. Feel the disorientation the HBO execs must have felt watching that opening scene, which takes place in the least legible (for a mob show) of all the series’ spaces, Dr. Melfi’s office.
Crumbling Land, a project by Noah Gotlib, was on view at Citygroup from June 4 to August 1.
Insurers are retreating from risk-exposed regions, while authorities are failing to keep pace with the crises unfolding around them. Into this breach, Gotlib hopes, come citizens working in concert to navigate devastating changes.
Sick Houses: Haunted Homes and the Architecture of Dread by Leila Taylor. Repeater, 240 pp., $17.
So much of what makes an otherwise innocuous home scary is dependent on where we look, how we move, and how long we linger—work the movie camera performs.
Antifascist Architecture by Andrew Santa Lucia and Daniel Jonas Roche, with original drawings by Lane Rick. Parks Books, 256 pp., $40.
Too often in Antifascist Architecture, the architecture isn’t antifascist and the antifascism isn’t architecture.
Struggles in the Concrete: Architecture and the Marxist Tradition by Mark Crinson and Luisa Lorenza Corna (eds.). Birkhaüser, 240 pp., $40.
Socialism in one building?
To have Jane Jacobs, we need to go beyond Jane Jacobs.
The Tenement Museum memorializes working-class families even as it evicts them.
Somehow, heartbreak feels good in a place like this.
Maligned and condemned, the Port Authority Bus Terminal will be missed after it’s gone.
My transvestigation into a slut-pop psyop had, at the edge of a Superfund site, reached its own dead end.
In a chronically stressful city, even a bump and a few filled holes can feel like real relief.
These objects preserve the social-democratic spirit that remained flat-packed, stateside, until Mamdani finally found an Allen wrench.
With its sloping shake roof and sliding glass doors, the Scandi-shack was meant to sell itself—sidesaddle and sunbaked on the roadside, a prefab portal to the pine-strewn, snow-covered San Gabriels beyond.
On January 5, Doctor Kathy Hochul finally gave New York its gogo juice, prescribing a bitter pill known as congestion pricing to clear its clogged passages and stimulate its mass transit system.
An island of noncommodification in a stormy, speculative ocean
“What would happen if we foregrounded human values in the creation of our systems?”
A crucial part of the Israeli state project is about leaving Palestinians with no physical place to call home.
Think about the climate crisis long enough, and the problem appears so vast as to be unthinkable. And yet, that’s what we must do.
New York is a city of exhibitionists. Documentary filmmaker John Wilson is happy to oblige.
Where ideas hit money and materials and space itself.
