My Boy is a noticeable departure from this pattern, with an opening section that’s tender and sweet, a gentle “we won’t be alone” refrain sung with two different voices, the riders’ personalities embodied in the different styles of text Hofmann fills the screen with. Ava Hofmann’s newest release, My Boy (Mirror to Mirror), is not just exceptional in its breaking of new ground, but in the utter glee it takes in the act of doing so, a kind of window-crashing, glass-smashing, we’re-here-we’re-queer abandon that cements a piece of art as simultaneously of the moment and timeless.Īva’s previous pieces in Line Rider have ranged from messy and loud ( BELLS, You Want It? ) to quiet and thought-provoking ( Three Memories of Snow, sodomite ), encompassing a number of emotional spaces as a collective body of work, but tightly focused as individual experiences. Owing to its youth as an art medium (working stolidly through its second decade) and its lack of large-scale community (with active membership barely approaching triple digits), Line Rider often shocks newcomers with the sheer glut of ground yet to be broken.
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