Blue Fay

Spacey is, to some extent, paying for what he has done. It does appear that Hollywood is no longer willing to turn a blind eye to sexual violence.

While the lines between time and place, record and feeling, art and artifact may converge and overlap, Lee’s hand never wavers.

The script seems to be a strange combination of a B-grade horror movie, a Greek tragedy and a jazzy show-stopper getting put on in a haunted house. In an interview with The Daily Californian, Teddy Lake, the director of “Bat Boy,” made it clear that she wanted the show to be about something more.

The music videos are an amalgamation of liltingly beautiful color schemes and situations that appear mournful and deranged. It is clear that something is wrong.

The intersection of personal experience and political reality seems to be one of the driving forces behind Cho’s work.

Reminders of the occupation were embedded into the infrastructure of the island. They were written across the water tower, above the “United States Penitentiary” sign on the docks. “WELCOME INDIANS,” read one in a weathered, but still legible, red paint. “INDIAN LAND,” read another.

When I arrived in Beijing, “Destinations” was the word on every gay exchange student’s lips.