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Kaleem Hawa

Kaleem Hawa has written about art, film, and literature for the New York Review of Books, The Nation, and Artforum, among others.



Articles Available Online


Hating it Lush: On Tel Aviv

Essay

May 2023

Kaleem Hawa

Essay

May 2023

I   They made the desert bloom, tall sparkling towers and clean Bauhaus lines, and apple-ring acacias, and teal blue shuttle buses, and stock...

Poetry

Issue No. 28

Three poems from issue 28

Sarah Barnsley

Valzhyna Mort

Kaleem Hawa

Poetry

Issue No. 28

Valzhyna Mort, ‘Music for Girl’s Voice and Bison’   Sarah Barnsley, ‘Virginia Woolf Has Fallen Over’   Kaleem Hawa,...

Balanchine, the Wilis, and Collective Female Anger in Ballet   Growing up in ballet, I occasionally trained with a visiting instructor who had danced for George Balanchine in his glory days at New York City Ballet She went by only her first name and titled her dance accordingly, perhaps in an attempt to mythologise herself in the same way she mythologised ‘Mr B’ – when she spoke of him, her eyes took on a cultish glaze I came to associate that mesmerised expression and a near-erotic love of dance with Balanchine dancers, many of whom never seem to have got over having been touched by The Master   When she warned us that ageing as a dancer was an accelerated process, as though we were deteriorating in dog-years, I felt let in on a secret that connected me with a grand tradition of dancers But she was also a cautionary tale: as I would imagine her preparing for her goddess-like descent on our class – brushing her wispy, waist-length white hair into a severe bun, wrapping her frame (which had no loose skin to indicate that she had ever gained weight or strayed from a balletic body) in tights and a chiffon skirt as though she were still a student – I felt unsafe from myself, as though I was quickly approaching a day when there would be nothing I could change about my life, either Wanting could become an end unto itself   Like many young dancers, I devoured former NYCB principal Gelsey Kirkland’s 1986 autobiography, Dancing on My Grave, which chronicles her rise from star student to principal dancer, her drug addiction, physical deterioration, and the pitfalls of being locked into Balanchine’s closed system of instruction I read the book between classes in the crumbling building of my ballet school, breathing the characteristic scent of rosen, sweat, and Jet glue while the other girls stretched and tittered as the boys struggled to balance in their pointe shoes For many, these interactions were their earliest flirtations, branded by the slightest betrayal of the strict balletic gender divide: women wear pointe shoes, extending their limbs

Contributor

November 2019

Kaleem Hawa

Contributor

November 2019

Kaleem Hawa has written about art, film, and literature for the New York Review of Books, The Nation, and...

after Mahmoud Darwish    Why is a boy an exclamation,  and why are his dead a period?,  why do his sinews tighten when he sees  a Palestinian body? Does his vision narrow  because of their flight,  or because their world is raining with salt?  Why is a boy with a gun different  from a boy with a jail cell?,  if the tools of rupture are our arms for  repurposing the body, and the arms of  the state are our means of repurposing the male,  are we finally useful and breathing and nervous…?  Does the white mean Night’s arrival?,  or does night signal the white’s escape?,  and when that white city boy becomes  a White City man,  does the hate in his heart subside?,  or does it become an ellipses,  a Bauhaus history of stories started  and left unfinished 
You Arrive at A White Checkpoint and Emerge Unscathed

Prize Entry

November 2019

Kaleem Hawa


READ NEXT

poetry

May 2012

Monopoly (after Ashbery)

Sarah Howe

poetry

May 2012

I keep everything until the moment it’s needed. I am the glint in your bank manager’s eye. I never...

Art

May 2014

The Interzone and Dexter Dalwood

Sarah Hegenbart

Dexter Dalwood

Art

May 2014

‘Burroughs in Tangier’ (2005) has captivated me ever since its display in the 2010 Turner Prize Exhibition. The work...

feature

Issue No. 4

Tibetan Kitsch

Evan Harris

feature

Issue No. 4

I first glimpsed the Potala Palace behind the bending legs of a prostitute. She swayed, obscuring a vista of...

 

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