Read An Interview on Fashion, Film, and the Erotics of Desire with Kate Biel & Kimberly Corday →

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interview by Eva Megannety

In fashion, desire is often draped in fabric, but for Kate and Kimberly, it lives in motion. In their collaborative short Love Is Not All, the two artists trade runways for reels, channeling longing, beauty, and decay into a filmic fever dream. Against the backdrop of a world increasingly obsessed with speed and spectacle, their work feels like a deliberate pause - a place where emotion lingers, glances haunt, and the act of getting dressed becomes a cinematic ritual. As fashion continues to merge with entertainment, film has become the new frontier for designers looking to craft legacy, not just collections. For Kate and Kimberly, fashion isn’t just about fabric and fit - it’s about emotion, storytelling, and cinematic escapism. And through their lens, each frame becomes a love letter to the art of getting dressed. We spoke about the allure of the fashion film, the seduction of storytelling, and why, for them, desire can only be truly captured in movement.

Doc Fortnight 2025: Breaking Reality, One Frame at a Time

At MoMA, Memory and Desire Collide in a Cinematic Exploration of the Real and the Imagined.

 

Marlow Fazon Featuring Yesterday. 2025. USA. Directed by Isaiah Davis. Courtesy the filmmaker

 

text by Eva Megannety

Doc Fortnight isn’t just an exhibition—it’s a provocation. MoMA’s annual nonfiction showcase has long been a space where documentary defies its own rules, and 2025 is no exception. This year’s lineup fractures, distorts, and reimagines the boundaries of nonfiction, blending memory, identity, desire, and upheaval into something more elusive—more intimate—more true. From legendary filmmakers like Errol Morris and Stanley Nelson to bold newcomers rewriting the language of documentary, these films dissolve fact and fiction, turning the camera into an accomplice, an intruder, an unreliable narrator. Among the exhibition’s most daring offerings is Doc Fortnight Shorts 4: Memory and Desire, a selection of films that probe the slipperiness of recollection and longing, proving once again that at Doc Fortnight, truth is never simple.

Prelude (2025, USA, dir. Jen DeNike)

Memory is a fragile thing, a collage of images and emotions that flicker and fade—except when celluloid steps in to hold it still. Prelude is a quiet, aching elegy where letters, family photographs, and the misty Scottish countryside form a bridge between past and present. DeNike crafts a dreamscape of longing as a daughter tries to reconcile her mother’s slipping mind with the secret history of a love that once burned bright. It’s an act of cinematic grace, a requiem for the things that time refuses to keep.

Blue (2024, Romania/Portugal/Hungary/Belgium, dir. Ana Vîjdea)

Some families suffocate with love. Some let it spill out in bursts of anxiety and control. In Blue, Ana Vîjdea delivers an unflinching portrait of Rodica, a Romanian mother scraping by in Belgium, desperate to keep her children close. Shot in tightly framed interiors that feel like walls closing in, the film pulses with the kind of intimacy that verges on claustrophobia. Love here is not soft; it’s a grip that doesn’t loosen, an embrace that lingers just a little too long. Vîjdea, ever the documentarian of human fragility, finds the tension between devotion and possession, between wanting to hold on and knowing you must let go.

Marlow Fazon Featuring Yesterday (2025, USA, dir. Isaiah Davis)

Isaiah Davis has never been one to shy away from the body—its textures, its violence, its aesthetic possibilities. His latest work, Marlow Fazon Featuring Yesterday, is less a film than a living, breathing installation, a visceral meditation on Black masculinity that pulls from sculpture, music, and the language of fetish. Leather, metal, horrorcore, and the yearning croon of Boyz II Men collide in this dissection of identity, power, and nostalgia. It’s raw, provocative, and formally daring—a theatrical reworking of Davis’ own past installations that reminds us how history, both personal and cultural, is always being remade.

Freak (2024, USA, dir. Claire Barnett)

Some films look like they shouldn’t exist—like you’ve stumbled onto something you were never meant to see. Freak feels that illicit. Shot in jittery, voyeuristic camcorder footage that trembles with tension, Barnett’s film pulls us into the obsessive push-and-pull of young love, where devotion looks an awful lot like self-destruction. It’s raw, nervy, and unsettling, stripping intimacy down to something almost holy—if holiness could be found in jealousy, insecurity, and a love so intense it borders on madness.

School of the Dead (2025, USA, dir. Hannah Gross)

“We need a dead(wo)man to begin.” Helene Cixous’ words haunt School of the Dead, Hannah Gross’ spectral, elliptical debut. A film about absence, inheritance, and the ghosts that shape us, it plays like a séance conducted through cinema—casting Sierra Pettengill as both subject and specter, searching for something in the vast, ancient landscapes of Alberta. History, personal and prehistoric, folds in on itself: the voices of lost mothers, forgotten texts, and the echoes of Clarice Lispector all bleed into this hypnotic, shape-shifting hybrid. Gross makes grief tangible, a thing you can almost reach out and touch before it vanishes into the frame.

If Doc Fortnight 2025 proves anything, it’s that nonfiction cinema is no longer bound by objectivity—or even reality. The festival’s most striking moments weren’t just about documenting the world as it is, but about reshaping it through memory, desire, and the slippery nature of truth. Films like Prelude and School of the Dead blurred the line between personal history and poetic reconstruction, while Freak and Marlow Fazon Featuring Yesterday pushed intimacy and identity to their rawest extremes.

The hybrid and avant-garde works showcased here reject the notion that documentary must simply “capture.” Instead, they challenge—contorting time, bending form, and questioning whose stories get told and how. This isn’t just a shift in style; it’s a radical redefinition of storytelling itself, one where fiction and nonfiction are no longer opposing forces but inseparable collaborators.

Leaving the exhibition, I found myself reconsidering what it means to document something. Is truth what we see, what we remember, or what we choose to believe? Doc Fortnight 2025 suggests it might be all of the above, and that’s precisely what makes this era of nonfiction cinema so thrilling.

A Steamy Night of Readings with Camille Sojit Pejcha and Substack

Last Tuesday, New York’s literary world descended on a Wall Street bath house for a midnight reading on desire.

text by Karly Quadros

There’s rarely a good reason for any self-respecting writer to be in the Financial District at 10:30 pm on a Tuesday, but here I am at a Russian bath house, standing behind a girl complaining loudly on the phone about how she’s definitely over her situationship this time. It’s a fitting start to the real reason that I’m here: a late-night reading on the topic of desire from some of New York’s seamiest and funniest writers, hosted by writer Camille Sojit Pejcha and Substack.

At the tail end of my first frigid New York City winter, I’m ready for a schvitz and a soak in my red Coca-Cola vintage one piece. It was an apt fashion choice: the decor had a distinctly 80s flair, all blue tiles and decals of mermaids and tropical fish. Amidst a modern sauna renaissance, the focus is less wellness and more third space. Clusters of attendees bounce on pruny toes between the sauna, bar, and a large central pool where the readings take place. The hot tub is packed to the brim while the rest of us paddle placidly in the pool or perch on its edge sipping orange juice and house-made vodkas infused with horseradish, lemon, black currant, and raspberry.

Bath houses have been around since as long as humans have lived together. The sauna’s simple, woody engineering helped people escape brutal Norse winters. Russian and Eastern European immigrant communities carved out their own little piece of New York City with homosocial bath houses where potbellied men socialized and sweated it out together in between cold plunges and traditional beatings with prickly oak branches. In the 20th century, bath houses became iconic for their status as gay cruising grounds. But, as Sojit Pejcha reminds me, before all of that, in ancient Roman times, public baths were community spaces, closer to libraries than bedrooms. With this reading, organized in collaboration with Substack’s Matt Starr and Sophia Efthimiatou, she was blending the two.

Featuring performances from Sojit Pejcha, Brontez Purnell, Cat Cohen, Mary H.K. Choi, Jaboukie, J Wortham, Liara Roux, Old Jewish Men, and Sherry Ning, the readings are occasionally erotic, often funny, always revealing. They detailed desires that were passing or all encompassing. The desires were sometimes existential (wanting to be beautiful), sometimes specific (wanting to be let into the Delta Sky Club.) Like an extension of a dream where you have to give a speech only to realize that you’re not wearing any pants, many of the writers, performing in swimsuits, took on the things they’re a little embarrassed to want in the first place. 

Sojit Pejcha riffed on the misbegotten workplace dalliances of her early twenties. Cat Cohen tore through several poems on everything from $400 Zoom psychics to wanting to be so tiny and thin she could ice skate on the crust of crème brûlée. Others wrote about wanting things they feel they should probably be a little more ashamed of but aren’t, like Brontez Purnell taking on relapses and near-death experiences. Mary H.K. Choi channeled her irrepressible lust for affordable health care through Luigi Mangione’s delicately shackled ankles. And then there was Jaboukie who fantasized about a kinky threeway with Senate Republican leader Mitch McConnell and his remote control buttplug-wielding wife.

Maybe it’s the humidity or the smell of smoked herring that’s gone to my head, but the night is shaping up to be, if not exactly sexy, then much more revealing. With authors and audience alike in nothing but their skivvies, there’s nowhere to hide. Considering the avalanche of hand-wringing thinkpieces about how Gen Z is too prudish, I think to myself that those authors clearly didn’t show up here.

Sojit Pejcha, whose newsletter Pleasure-Seeking focuses on desire and sexuality with a gonzo, anthropological aplomb, agrees. She points to a collective burnout in the face of the overzealous sex positivity of the 2010s, in which dating apps gave rise to a particular kind of casual sex and corny brands Urban Outfitters were hawking vibrators as a quick path to empowerment. Ultimately, however, that promised sexual empowerment was just another way for brands to leverage human desires to sell products. 

“I think it’s worth interrogating what shapes our desires, what social conditions we’re responding to and why we think things are subversive,” said Sojit Pejcha. “Brands and dating apps marketed sex as a source of liberation for women–but failed to close the orgasm gap. Between this and the conservative cultural turn, there was a sense that sex positivity wasn’t all it cracked up to be, and sex negativity almost seemed subversive.”

With this event and her newsletter, she’s refocusing the conversation on pleasures and vulnerabilities both transgressive and ordinary. “So much of the conversation is about how atomized we are, how isolated and sexless we are. I think part of that is true, but at a certain point, complaining about it online is not helpful,” she said. “My role is to seek out sexual culture where it exists in the real world.”

If the event’s near instant ticket sell out and 300 person waitlist is any indicator, the appetite for spaces that are sultry and silly isn’t just existent – it’s ravenous. Spilling out into the night, still March brisk but no longer wind whipped January, I can feel the thaw coming.

Images courtesy of Anna Maria Lopez

The Incarnation of Desire is Brought to You by A Tender Limb @ Reisig and Taylor Contemporary in Los Angeles

 

Image courtesy of Reisig and Taylor Contemporary.

 

Reisig and Taylor Contemporary is presenting A Tender Limb, a group exhibition of works by Los Angeles-based artists Ibuki Kuramochi, Marley White, and Allison Arkush. The exhibition includes prints and a sculptural video installation by Kuramochi; mixed-technique and metal sculptures by White; and, mixed-media and ceramic pieces by Arkush.

Recontextualizing ‘everyday' interactions with items, furnitures, images, screens, trinkets, skins, figments, tangles, tools, morsels and other abeyant entities that congeal or contract as soon as someone looks (away), the exhibition asks how bodies make-room for objects through desire and affection—through taste. But it also asks how conditioned desires, affections, and tastes for objects make-room for (specific types of) bodies.

A Tender Limb is on view through February 24 @ Reisig and Taylor Contemporary, 2680 South La Cienega Blvd, Los Angeles, CA 90034

 
 

Lydia Maria Pfeffer Takes Us to Queer, Jungian Worlds In Lily of the Valley @ Ochi Projects In Los Angeles

 
 

Lydia Maria Pfeffer presents new paintings that depict a queer cast of characters as well as their seductive and strange worlds. Drawing inspiration from mythology, shamanism, and anthropomorphism, Pfeffer playfully revels in art historical motifs and religious iconography. Set against earthly and other-worldly backdrops, the occult-like figures in this series dwell in both familiar and celestial landscapes. Pfeffer’s fantastical worlds are inhabited by bold figures who embody queer sensuality, femme kinship, and gender fluidity, through the expressive language of painterly symbolism.

With a cheeky nod to the sexualized female figures of Austrian Expressionism, like those of Egon Schiele and Oskar Kokoschka, Pfeffer similarly charges her subjects with a raw femme sexuality that verges on the grotesque. However, unlike these historical representations of the sexed femme body—so often fraught with the confines of modernity and the male gaze—Pfeffer’s specters are fully self-realized. They refuse the bounds of their own frames. Connecting familiarity with fantasy, and femininity with ferocity, Pfeffer’s works hover above the axis of desire itself. Lily of the Valley rejects painting’s inherited traditions of the patriarchal gaze and boldly asserts the power of a self-actualized queer eroticism.

Lydia Maria Pfeffer is in conversation with Trulee Hall in our forthcoming Body Issue. The following is an excerpt from the full interview:

LYDIA MARIA PFEFFER: I do believe there's a spirit world out there, and I do believe that everything is alive, and I mean that down to the soil. When I make these paintings, they are almost a weird channeling. Of course, it’s my subconscious that creates these images. But, I start painting with some washes or lines, then the figure develops, who then invites the other figure, and they're all grabbing each other and taking each other to the party. It's almost like I’m asking, “Alright, who else do you want? What else do you want? Oh, you want a little thing there? Okay, cool. Who else is coming to the party? Okay. There she is.” I'm almost being told what to do. It takes an openness, and a willingness to trust yourself, and trust the process. You go in and give yourself entirely over to the painting. Often, I paint the entire thing, and I have no idea what's happening. There's a lot of Jung’s idea of collective unconscious in there, which says that your fears and your desires are predetermined. These archetypes that we all embody determine what we fear, or revere, or need, or want in order to develop.   

TRULEE HALL: I totally relate. I also use the channeling. I get the mood right. I have a canvas, I got my music going, and the rest just unfolds. I don't think it through ahead of time. Sometimes I'll start with one idea or an inspiration, but it's a relationship with the work. In your case, you're very brave, and you're also unapologetic. Your work comes from a very authentic place and it really jumps off the canvas. I don't even think of them as paintings because they just seem to exist. It feels like it flew out of you; like it's supposed to exist.   

Lily of The Valley is on view through April 30 at Ochi Projects 3301 W Washington Blvd, Los Angeles

Xinyi Cheng Gives Us All The Uncanny Feels In Seen Through Others @ Lafayette Anticipations in Paris

The constellation of subjects and scenes captured in Xinyi Cheng’s evocative paintings are drawn from her encounters. From a tiny dog called Monroe staring at a bone on a red carpet to a man in leopard-print boxer shorts on a sofa speaking on the phone, her works unravel complex emotions, desires, and dynamics that permeate contemporary life. Cheng’s expressive use of light and colour help conjure feelings, reveries, and impulses that reside within our everyday experiences of being in the world. Beyond a false softness, these new works represent her reflection not only on what it means for us to coexist, but on what it means to be human. In an often enigmatic atmosphere of dreams and solitude, the characters depicted by the artist sound like unexpected tributes to the moderns such as Picasso, Toulouse-Lautrec, Degas or Caillebotte.

For Cheng’s first major institutional exhibition in France, the presentation brings together over thirty existing works from 2016 to 2021 spread across the whole building. Shown in unfamiliar groupings, they open up novel correlations and understandings within her oeuvre.

Seen Through Others is on view now through May 28 at Lafayette Anticipations – Fondation Galeries Lafayette, 9 rue du Plâtre, Paris