“O’Neal stands in the booth of the FLAG Art Foundation, surrounded on three sides by the works he has helped curate for the exhibition SHAQ LOVES PEOPLE, and facing a small phalanx of crab-eyed TV cameras and flashing photographers. He is as large as one would expect, even in such expansive environs, surprisingly un-intimidating in both psychic and physical presence, graceful in a behemothic way, and with a friendly, low rumble in his voice; the effect is akin to seeing a C-130 Hercules in a 50-yard-line flyover.”
“alt-J could be considered something of a lit rock band; their sound is both maximalist and expansive, obviously cognizant of the importance of aesthetic, and, at first blush, all of the usual barriers of entry with which the cognoscenti cartels keep out the hoi polloi seem to have been erected. There is the preponderance of piano and the trembling of little alien sounding strings, a distinct lack of percussion or a glitchy, stuttering, seemingly intractable spine which would be impossible to remove unless one wants to listen to a quivering, opalescent jellyfish.”
“It is everywhere, all around us, the most omnipresent component of the zeitgeist, the silent art, hidden in its ubiquity, immeasurable in its importance. Those possessing the right eyes hail Design with the same fervor as painting, sculpture, poetry. Aided by its permeation of life, Design holds a distinction as the art most likely to be confused—or conflated—with the Holy Spirit.
You’ll hardly be surprised to learn that Design touched every aspect of this review: the chair and desk, the laptop, the layout of the word processor, the layout of its final appearance in Paste and, of course, the book itself. Any sign you have trusted and followed, any couch or bed or countertop or washing machine you have fucked upon, any magazine or book you have read … Design got there first. The fixtures that light your home, the modes of transportation that move you through the milieu, the monument that will mark your grave: all designed. The only possible escape would be to throw one’s self, naked, into the surf, shaking off the shore until you saw nothing but sea and sky and cephalopod. (Even then Design would not be absent, merely lying fathoms below, sunken and full of ghosts.)”
“The course is an ode to the North American adventure golf model: Miniature golf with maximalist aesthetics, the perfect conflation of sport, art, and camp.
These are not the staid holes which define the dreary, predictable Euro-style putt putt courses, which are ruled by trigonometric geniuses. The American, adventure-style miniature golf game trades such obvious nuances in strategy for, well, adventure. Melodramatic, baroque, bordering on pornographic, with themes like pirates, Polynesia, and prehistory. The courses wind through air conditioned volcanoes or Mayan step pyramids or the rolling hills of Eden or hysterically faux-realistic landscapes of grass green carpeting and water that runs an electric shade of blue—both too blue and too green for anywhere but an adventure golf course.”
“Brandon Marshall, a Pro Bowl wide receiver for the Chicago Bears, has a mental health disorder. Specifically, borderline personality disorder (BPD), a vicious and frequent emotional oscillation that can lead to instability in relationships, work, and thought processes. It is not one of the oft-fetishized and self-appointed disorders—some forms of mental illness being perversely desirable in popular culture, romanticized afflictions in the vein of aloof, cruel genius and functional addiction. In the NFL, where admitting even physical damage to the brain was long thought to be a shameful sign of weakness, to have someone of Marshall’s status be forthcoming about an invisible, non-trauma induced brain issue is borderline miraculous.”