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Rosanna Mclaughlin
Rosanna Mclaughlin is an editor at The White Review.

Articles Available Online


The Pious and the Pommery

Essay

Issue No. 18

Rosanna Mclaughlin

Essay

Issue No. 18

I.   Where is the champagne? On second thoughts this is not entirely the right question. The champagne is in the ice trough, on...

Essay

April 2019

Ariana and the Lesbian Narcissus

Rosanna Mclaughlin

Essay

April 2019

‘Avoid me not!’ ‘Avoid me not!’                                   Narcissus   Let me describe a GIF I’ve been watching. A lot....

After The Eliza Battle, I went to Berlin to recuperate, to nurse my pride I had been there many times at that point, since first visiting in 2005 when I was part of a group show, and it had become my place for retreat when LA started to feel monstrous, as it regularly did; I’d been part of several group shows over the years and then there was a major museum biennial thing in 2011; there were meetings with curators arranged for the months of December and January; and I was also supposed to see a few gallerists who wanted to represent me, had been inviting me for months, more fervently after news of this last show; I had friends I could stay with, and sublets of people out of town, the Berlin way, a city of transience, expatriates, refugees, and nomads, but I rented a flat for myself, in a different part of town than most of the people I knew; and in the cab from the airport, I started to fall asleep, head nudging the window, I hadn’t slept on the flight, it was nearing 4 pm Berlin time, the sky was steely; and I was able to make out the brown buildings with their box balconies, the typography of the street signs, the black coats being dragged around by little moons of grim faces, the Muslim women in their head scarves and long dresses that dusted the ground as they walked, and I felt at home   I hadn’t spoken to or seen Hanne in the month or so between the opening and when I left Cal had, as expected, texted many times, beginning on the night of the opening, wondering where I’d gone, if he could come over later, and something the next morning, ‘you were so radiant last night, lover,’ then the texts started to end in question marks, a flurry of them for a few days, but by the time I’d made it to the airport, they’d stopped altogether, and I’d already started to forget the features of his face   By the time I arrived at

Contributor

July 2016

Rosanna Mclaughlin

Contributor

July 2016

Rosanna Mclaughlin is an editor at The White Review.

Ten Years at Garage Moscow

Art Review

November 2018

Rosanna Mclaughlin

Art Review

November 2018

When I arrive in Moscow, I am picked up from the airport by Roman, a patriotic taxi driver sent to collect me courtesy of...
Becoming Alice Neel

Art

August 2017

Rosanna Mclaughlin

Art

August 2017

From the first time I saw Alice Neel’s portraits, I wanted to see the world as she did. Neel was the Matisse of the...

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fiction

March 2017

Initiation

Guadalupe Nettel

TR. Rosalind Harvey

fiction

March 2017

Aside from its absence of windows, my apartment is a mausoleum which bestows an epic dimension upon the important...

Art

September 2015

Sightlines: James Turrell

Gareth Evans

Art

September 2015

For, and in memory of, Jules Wright   Approach   It is a pleasure too rarely realised to venture...

poetry

January 2016

Three Honey Protocols

Monika Rinck

TR. Nicholas Grindell

poetry

January 2016

FRIEDRICH NIETZSCHE PONDERS LOVE   Honey protocols, hear how they mock, snow white and super blue: On the footpaths,...

 

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