Currently Browsing: Catherine Sawoski
Yes, Sarah Kernochan has won two Academy Awards. But that barely scratches the surface of her decades-long career, where she has been everything from director to novelist to screenwriter to musician.
“I didn’t have any ambition to be a director, and certainly not a documentary filmmaker,” Sarah said, looking back on her Academy-Award winning feature, Marjoe.… read more.
Strike!, the 1998 film written and directed by Sarah Kernochan, was not supposed to be titled that. And, sometimes, it’s known as All I Wanna Do.
“The original title, my title, was The Hairy Bird,” Sarah Kernochan introduced at a rare and recent screening at the Metrograph in New York, “which was a euphemism in the 60s at boarding schools for penis.… read more.
A confession: I listen to a podcast every night before I fall asleep. I can’t remember the last time I didn’t float out of consciousness with some voice cooing in my ear, dissecting the plot to a book I haven’t read or teaching me about a minor historical event. When I was in high school, my brother’s nightly routine included shutting off whatever Spotify show was spouting from my phone before he went to bed.… read more.
It would be a safe bet to say that most of the line snaking outside of MoMA thinks of Georgia O’Keeffe as a synonym for pastel flowers. Going into this summer’s new exhibition of her work, among the other uninitiated, a friend and I were able to wax poetic about dainty blooms, beautiful colors, and vibrant oil paintings that grace the covers of twelve month calendars.… read more.
A nondescript white man lies in a bed in New York City with his Korean-American wife. “Childhood sweethearts reconnect twenty years later and realize they were meant for each other,” he murmurs, mulling over archetypes in his mind. A pause. “In the story, I would be the evil white American husband standing in the way of destiny.”… read more.
Recently, on an internet-age first date at the Met, I meditated with a man I just met on the value of scribbles. Posed in front of a Cy Twombley entitled “Dutch Interior,” I pointed to thin pencil marks on the imposing canvas, crayon scrawls and scratched-in numbers. He seemed less than impressed.
“Isn’t it interesting how all graffiti is the same?”… read more.