Author Archives: Jennifer Dwoskin

Jennifer Dwoskin attended college at Villanova University and the National University of Ireland at Galway. She now works in publishing and lives in Brooklyn.

Someone Who’ll Watch Over Me

An American, an Irishman, and an Englishman are held captive in the same Lebanese prison cell. In one corner, the American furiously counts off as he performs push-ups, proposing that he and his cellmate condition themselves for physical “competitions.” Opposite him is the Irishman, who recounts a horse race in which an Irish mare won [...]


In an exercise of free association, the word “insect” may incite the following responses: creepy, repulsive, disease-carrying. It is something to swat, squash, kill. These reactions of aversion, fear and neuroses are what one would expect. Certainly, most people wouldn’t find sophistication in an insects movements, admire their fierce sense of community or be amused [...]

Spring wtih the New York Jazz Choreography Project

Jazz may be one of the most bewildering of art forms. It’s so elusive, in fact, that people use the word “jazz” as if it were a synonym of “etcetera”. Like, “She’s into that whole indie scene: book readings, film festivals, obscure musicians—you know, all that jazz.” A dated expression, indeed, but a valid point. [...]

Perfect Prototype

“Beauty is in the eye of the beholder.” So the idiom goes, anyway. I began to ponder the expression as I watched the real life mannequins of Perfect Prototype, Kinematik’s performance dance piece, scoot crab-like across the floor of the John Ryan Theater in Dumbo. Each of the six women was dressed monochromatically in black, [...]

The Holidays à la Saint Patrick’s

St. Pat’s, in all its Neo-Gothic grandeur, is arguably one of New York City’s most treasured ornaments. It’s crowded every day of the year, teeming with flash-happy sightseers and humble churchgoers alike. There are candles to be lit, stations to be visited and crypts to be toured. Rarely are the pews full, except for on [...]

Review: The New Electric Ballroom at St. Ann’s Warehouse

If it is true, as the women in Enda Walsh’s The New Electric Ballroom recite, that “no man is an island,” then why does it seem as if we are too often drowning in a sea of gobshite*? Walsh, who now resides in London, is a bit of a rogue amongst his playwriting peers, eschewing [...]