Writing in the Dark, Dancing in The New Yorker: An Arlene Croce Reader

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This past April, Gia Kourlas left Time Out New York , where she had been dance editor for 20 years, after they eliminated her stand-alone section. The Village Voice and New York have both let go of their regular dance writers and editors in the past 15 years. Which leaves very few publications with house critics and editors who are dedicated to the art form. Some freelancers continue to publish reviews, but more likely than not the space for this kind of writing has been cut significantly. But for a medium that can be difficult to understand, generalist coverage remains vital to the accessibility of the dance scene.

A look at history can offer insight into why dance is having a harder time than other art forms.


When it did, the reviewers were music or theater critics who went to the ballet reluctantly, and when they wrote about it they did so by ignoring the dance itself. The U. His visual sensitivity alerted readers to the significance of what was happening onstage, and by doing so he greatly expanded the viewership of dance, and modern dance in particular.

Still, the stigma persisted. Dance allowed the body to come into full and fleshed-out consciousness. And by sheer chance this happened to be one of the most innovative periods in the history of choreography. With so much happening in the genre, dance solicited unprecedented attention in the press, with up to 10 professional critics writing up a single show.

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Brubach did so, too; she won a National Magazine Award in for her essays on Balanchine and Taylor, published in the pages of The Atlantic. In writings on dance one finds a unique marriage of head and heart, intellect and intuition. However difficult it is to articulate, this mind-body axis holds significance for everyone. And the review will be a short one; when critics do write, they do so in less space and with less breadth than their predecessors.

Description For twenty-five years, Arlene Croce was The New Yorker's dance critic, a post the magazine created expressly for her. Her entertaining, forthright, passionate reviews and essays revealed the logic and history of ballet, modern dance, and their postmodern variants to a generation of theatergoers.

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This volume contains her most significant and provocative pieces - over a fourth of which never appeared in book form - covering classical ballets, the rise of George Balanchine, the careers of Twyla Tharp, Mark Morris, and Merce Cunningham, and the controversies surrounding many of the twentieth century's great dance companies. Free Returns We hope you are delighted with everything you buy from us. However, if you are not, we will refund or replace your order up to 30 days after purchase. Terms and exclusions apply; find out more from our Returns and Refunds Policy. Once the war ended, he went to Harvard, on the G.

After graduation, he hung around Cambridge for a while, starting and abandoning novels, writing limericks and verse dramas, and doing illustrations for books and magazines. But he had no money and felt he was getting nowhere.

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Earbrass, a novelist with a head shaped like a kielbasa, who starts writing a new book every other year, on November 18th. He hates all of them, not to speak of the process of writing them. He must be mad to go on enduring the unexquisite agony of writing when it all turns out drivel. How does one become one? He will burn the MS. Why is there no fire? How did he get in the unused room on the third floor? While still casting about, Gorey received an invitation from an editor at Doubleday, Barbara Zimmerman, whom he had known during his college years.

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Would Gorey like to move to New York and design covers for these books? He accepted the offer and left for New York.

Writing in the Dark, Dancing in the New Yorker : An Arlene Croce Reader

He hated New York—he thought Manhattanites were a bunch of phonies—but he carved out a life for himself there that he would have had a hard time constructing elsewhere. From childhood, he had been addicted to movies. New York in the nineteen-fifties probably had more revival and art-movie houses than any other city in the United States. Everson, who showed rare treats—silents, early talkies, foreign films—in his apartment on Saturday nights. Gorey glutted himself on cinema.

He said that, some years, he went to maybe a thousand movies. This is possible. Some were two-reelers—in other words, twenty minutes long. Also, Gorey and his friends would watch practically anything. Many of them hated Christmas, because it was a family holiday, and they had no family in New York City, or none that they wanted to spend the evening with. In , Gorey moved to New York, having accepted a job illustrating covers for Anchor Books, a new imprint that presented quality literature in inexpensive paperback editions. The next year, he went a little more; the following year, a bit more.

Finally, he said, it was just less trouble to reserve a ticket to every performance. In other words, he was at City Ballet pretty much every night—and every Saturday and Sunday afternoon, too—for almost half the year, every year. When he died, he left piles of uncompleted material behind. Like many ballet lovers, he had strong opinions about the dancers.

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It just shows that there is a nice light-hearted side of her out there. If she overwrote, they fitted in the whole thing. Jan Murray : All the way through. About this title Synopsis: The best of America's best writer on dance "Theoretically, I am ready to go to anything-once. Upcoming SlideShare. She still had dark hair then and a very, very, very pale face. Some freelancers continue to publish reviews, but more likely than not the space for this kind of writing has been cut significantly.

He worshipped Diana Adams, a very clean-lined, long-legged, unmannered ballerina. He did not like Suzanne Farrell and Peter Martins, the gorgeous pair who were stars of City Ballet in the sixties and seventies. Already at Harvard—indeed, earlier, as a faux epileptic on public transportation—he was a show.

To start with, he grew to six feet two, and he lost his hair early, compensating with a nice, bushy beard. A friend said that he looked like a cross between Hemingway and Santa Claus. His clothes were widely celebrated. He had a shifting wardrobe of at least a dozen fur coats, some of them dyed electric colors—blue, green, yellow. Underneath, he tended to wear a turtleneck adorned with some sort of necklace—African beads, a lavalliere on a string—and he often sported half a dozen rings.

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The outfit would be completed by bluejeans and, in almost all weather, low-top white sneakers, classic Keds, like those of the Doubtful Guest. With this came some very camp speech. As for Dery, he should have been wiser. Bogart is Bogey; Philadelphia is Philly. Everything is goosed up—above all, what Dery regards as the dark, dark mystery of Gorey. To me, he seems to have done O.

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As regards eccentricity: funny how certain artists are that way. In keeping with this slant, Dery is fond of psychoanalytic interpretation. Was your childhood unhappy? He pushed people away, barricaded himself behind books. Is that so? I am told by those who knew him that he was just shy. This is all very cheesy. All of a sudden everybody was sort of square and serious, and the whole idea was that America was this wonderful country and everybody was smiling and eating cornflakes and playing with puppies.

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Writing in the Dark, Dancing in The New Yorker [Arlene Croce] on barmasibor.cf * FREE* Try the Kindle edition and experience these great reading features. Writing in the Dark, Dancing in The New Yorker: An Arlene Croce Reader [Arlene Croce] on barmasibor.cf *FREE* shipping on qualifying offers. The best of.