PRINT March 2016


Rosemarie Castoro, Face Cracking, 1969, Polaroid, 3 × 4". From the series “Cracking,” 1969.

I am in dirt continually. The closer I am to myself the dirtier I become. My studio is covered with graphite. I am Diogenes sitting in a pile of dust. My ocean is made of graphite in front of which I tumble, chase, flop over.

ROSEMARIE CASTORO wasn’t precious about her work. As a dancer, painter, sculptor, and writer, she reveled in art’s material activation on the staging ground of the city street, the journal page, or her SoHo studio, where she lived for more than fifty years. Nor was she afraid to get her hands dirty. She was a member of the Art Workers’ Coalition and among the handful of artists asked by this magazine, in 1970, to answer the question, “What is your position regarding the kinds of political action that should be taken by artists?” She recommended straightforward economic steps (use the tax from works by dead artists sold at auction to support living artists)

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