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Tausif Noor
Tausif Noor is a critic and doctoral student at the University of California Berkeley, where he studies modern and contemporary art history. His writing on art, literature, and visual culture appears in Artforum, frieze, The Nation, The New York Times and other venues, as well as in artist catalogues and various edited volumes.

Articles Available Online


Devil in the Detail: on Leesa Gazi’s ‘Hellfire’

Book Review

July 2021

Tausif Noor

Book Review

July 2021

British-Bangladeshi novelist Tahmima Anam’s debut A Golden Age (2007) tracks the early stirrings of revolution in East Bengal from the 1950s to the climax...

Art Review

May 2019

Simone Fattal, Works and Days

Tausif Noor

Art Review

May 2019

For the last five decades, Simone Fattal has produced works that refract the particularities of the present vis-à-vis a...

The first time I think I saw Robinson? I’d have to have been leaving Yucaipa He was on an old bike, a rusted, duct- taped contraption I imagine must’ve squeaked and rattled from a loose chain or dust in the brakes… but I keep the music up when I drive, so I can’t re-place the sound, I can’t say there was a clatter-and-drag, whether it proceeded him, or enshrined him like some moving castle of music; Robinson Lonewolf, can you see him? the mad conductor, a gypsy percussive, orchestrating a synchronized cloud of ratcheting ticks No, I didn’t see his face Why d’you ask?   –What do I say of him being faceless? I can say I’m pretty sure it was him I know you know the trick with car mirrors   The second time? Years later I was in Red Rock country, north of Vegas, just off the 15 I passed a sign that read: Valley of Fire, and, Lake Mead and I swear I saw Robinson leaned against it just like that cowboy’s silhouette you hit in  Laughlin The neon one on the border of Nevada and California— He raised his arm too, dipped his hat brim like that as I passed him   –I saw stubble on his jaw, a chain at his throat and half a smile of white teeth No No bags with him   –He must’ve been headed north to— seemed he was hitching my side of the road   Significance of seeing Robinson? Stupid question Like, what color’s the air? Who cares I just see him when I see him   Yeah That was a bad one Two years locked up, San Bernardino County Detention   No He wasn’t I drove the car alone   Then it must’ve been Orange County, at a light Yeah it was late, just past the industrial part of town, you know, where that factory sends those plumes into the sky and that new hotel offsets ‘em like a Breughel painting? Hunting- ton Beach Boulevard, off the PCH?   –I don’t know I think he was on deck or in one of those drum circles that spring up ‘organically,’ you know? I saw a crowd piled up around him… Think of Robinson with one of those little monkeys that begs for dollars and change! How funny that’d be Yeah, I know why I’m here You sure you do?   No I haven’t seen him in Yucaipa for years Since

Contributor

March 2018

Tausif Noor

Contributor

March 2018

Tausif Noor is a critic and doctoral student at the University of California Berkeley, where he studies modern and contemporary art...

INTERVIEW WITH ANAND PATWARDHAN

Art Review

July 2018

Tausif Noor

Art Review

July 2018

By the late 1990s a right wing government in the shape of a BJP-Shiv Sena alliance had come to power for the first time...
Danh Vo, Take My Breath Away

Art Review

April 2018

Tausif Noor

Art Review

April 2018

‘When you love, you are nailed to the cross,’ says a character in Rainer Fassbinder’s film In a Year of 13 Moons (1978). In...

READ NEXT

Interview

November 2012

Interview with Simon Critchley

John Douglas Millar

Interview

November 2012

Over the last twenty years Simon Critchley has produced a series of elegant works of political and cultural theory....

Interview

October 2014

Interview with Otobong Nkanga

Louisa Elderton

Interview

October 2014

Some things are meant to be lost. You can’t collect emotions. As the artist Otobong Nkanga tells me this,...

fiction

January 2013

Animalinside

László Krasznahorkai

Max Neumann

TR. Ottilie Mulzet

fiction

January 2013

IV     Every space is too tight for me. I move around, I jump, I fling myself and...

 

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