DCB

You can contact me at: durga [dot] chewbose [at] gmail [dot] com Twitter and Instagram: @durgapolashi

[durgapolashi]

Top: Kim Novak in Bell Book and Candle (1958)

Bottom: Joan Allen in Pleasantville (1998)

Feelings turning women into “real” women!

[kayal-vizhi]

Abbas Kiarostami – Durga Chew-Bose – Medium

He was sensitive to light. A condition that required Abbas Kiarostami to wear his signature tinted glasses, which gave the impression he…

“Isn’t it remarkable to be quieted by something as routine as the sun rising? That was Kiarostami’s — not gift — but eloquence. How the prosaic, when given time to breathe instead of rushed into action — like chatter between two characters, for instance — can disclose life’s most electric pursuit: connection. “ 

[durgapolashi]

[marceloagomes]

A little (or a lot) hyper real.

[durgapolashi]

Marcelo

[durgapolashi]

Wrote about Natalie Portman for the December cover of Vanity Fair

[durgapolashi]

[durgapolashi]

November 2018

[durgapolashi]

Jamaica Kincaid’s smile by Avedon

[durgapolashi]

Katherine

October 2018

[durgapolashi]

Spoke with Dev Hynes about his new Blood Orange album, Negro Swan. Photographs by Wolfgang Tillmans. 

[durgapolashi]

Spoke with Dev Hynes for Dazed

[durgapolashi]

Spoke with Dev Hynes for Dazed, photographs by Wolfgang Tillmans

“Dev Hynes records his music with the windows open. You can hear the dulled urgency of a siren and the promise of more sirens. You can hear the neighbours. An errant screech. Ghosts and those who came before. A mother. Sweet greetings and voices chatting about the day’s complaints. Or the way a woman’s inflection – when she’s among her women – warms, gets real, plots, and receives affection. How her laugh means, “I love you.” You can hear pavement; chronic, comic car horns. You can hear a basketball; it sounds like a bass drum that sounds like a basketball, and so on. You can hear a saxophone; how solo and unescorted the saxophone sounds. Its noise, like loneliness next door. Its noise, like companionship just next door. What is it about saxophones that make them sound like fire escapes?

You can hear the city in the summer, at dusk. Because you can hear that, too – heat that won’t relent even as the sun begins to set. The echoing rhythm of whatever thoughts we keep to ourselves, competing with thick, thick air. You can hear muffled bass, confined to a car. The way some songs sound especially – the most – familiar when they are once removed. When you encounter them through a car pulled up to a red light. The way bass awakens us to the tension we hold in our chests. Or the joy that can spring from it, too.”

Interviewed Dev Hynes and wrote about his new Blood Orange album, Negro Swan, for Dazed. Photographs by Wolfgang Tillmans.

[marceloagomes]

Ballet dancers at sunset, somewhere in Brooklyn, 2014.

[niktipolos]

“Women learn to veil things. Who likes to look straight at real passion?”

— Anne Carson, excerpt of “Why I Wrote Two Plays about Phaidra, by Euripides”, in Grief Lessons (tr. by Anne Carson) (via antigonick)

[savagedefectives]

Durga Chew-Bose

[elisabeth-reidy]

“What is given is what you have to work with and it’s never enough. There are stops, starts, leaps, and returns to reexamine. But form is calling your name, like the Muse clattering along a street in high heels. Form is your name. You have to answer or be humiliated.”

— Fanny Howe (via mttbll)

[durgapolashi]