Pavemania

Yes, I drank at the Hawley Arms and the Good Mixer in Camden, went to Trash, saw the Strokes at a tiny secret gig...

Despite the fantastic silliness of the in-game time-travel logistics, the promise of historical accuracy has been a major selling point of Assassin’s Creed since the eponymous first installment in 2007...

Blow Out contains premonitions galore about where conspiratorial thinking, and the technology that encourages it, ultimately leads us...

Goya’s first big opportunity as an artist came in 1772...

Racers such as the bounty hunter Captain Falcon hovered smoothly across intergalactic circuits suspended in the sky...

When does a life become a story, a narrative legible to those outside it?

Your literature amounts to nothing now Having picked up all of romanticism’s errors, Its writings all reveal the face of Nature, Poor and decrepit, surrounded by great horrors...

What is self-determination in an algorithmic age?

Theoretically the insect could have been been trapped in the olive grove or the artist’s studio...

None of this was window dressing, or walled off by the same invisible barriers preventing true movement in most video games we’d played...

Lugosi not only acts in Wood’s movies and gives each scene his all—at one point he jumps into the water to wrestle a broken mechanical octopus—but also encourages Wood’s belief in their vocation...

This small stone man shows the fathomless silent darkness in our past. He is the wordless night...

Elton John was singing “I Guess That’s Why They Call It the Blues,” and I was belting it out with him...

The scariest element of Night In the Woods isn’t anything aesthetic at all—and the secret to unlocking it lies in the game’s fundamental mechanic of decision-making...

I am rearranging my music collection — looking at the album covers, hearing snippets of the songs in my head as I see each one and recall the memories attached to it...

When an exhibition is devoted to a theme, its paintings take a backseat, often to the detriment of the paintings...

I grew up hearing the story of my mother and grandmother going to the Curran Theatre in San Francisco, to see Victor Herbert’s The Red Mill. This was 1940...

Constable’s work depicts a quiet, pastoral scene on the River Stour, which forms part of the border between Essex and Suffolk...

How do we enter into the ritual time outside of time in which narrative unfolds?