SEATTLE ART FAIR: Needed dance, and had it. MALCOLM SMITH
It will come as no surprise to anyone that 2016 was the kind of nightmare where you wake up just as the killer’s knife is about to pierce your rib cage, only to find that you just slipped off the edge of the sheer cliff and are falling into the lake of hot lava. Taking in the year’s most memorable music, film, TV, art, theater, and books was necessarily to view those works through the lens of misery, and to assign them the job of being little therapeutic nuggets. That’s not always the most interesting task for art to do, but in a year as unrelentingly fucked as 2016, it was nice to have something to turn to.