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
With titles like "Flower, Fist, and Bestial Wail," "Erections, Ejaculations, Exhibitions, and General Tales of Ordinary Madness," and "Notes of a Dirty Old Man," Charles Bukowski's work is still the stuff that teenage poet-boys read on the bus. Bukowski is a movement-less poet: not a Beat or a Confes
His delivery was flat. His beady eyes revealed a mind constantly at work. Andy Kaufman threw every joke away -- he delivered bad lines, well, badly. Herein lay the source of his genius: he committed to the premise of the joke and ignored punchlines as byproducts of the comedic process. Every bad gag,
"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