In 1931 the audience rose in tribute as Saint Sa'ns' music from "The Dying Swan" played to an empty stage. Anna Pavlova had just died of pleurisy. On her deathbed, she issued one last request: "Bring my swan costume." By the end of her illustrious career, the swan had become her emblem. One stunning
It has been said that no photograph ever captured the mysterious allure of Vaslav Nijinsky. The cameras of his time were too slow to capture the spectacular height of his leap, and static images could never depict the sensuality of his dancing. Both men and women were drawn to his powerfully expressi
"To me, the television is sex, the bed is sex, the sky is sex, you're sex, I'm sex, everything is sex."
Annie Sprinkle flies bare-breasted and smiling in the face of art-world pretension. Her work, a marriage of performance, pornography, spirituality, and science, is the undiluted product of 25 y