Late 2014 and we are in a space of reflection, the subject of which is everyday life in the African metropolis, that cultural 'elsewhere' which the discipline of art history usually shrouds in mystery and myth.

We see a giant bicycle, fashioned out of ropes and wood; a miniature kaleidoscopic city crafted from cardboard and paper and a series of intricate drawings, offering dystopian visions of a post-apocalyptic future sketched out in remarkable detail. And in various corners sit several examples of anthropomorphic sculptures, transforming waste and weapons into objects of art.

What is missing, of course, is that enduring image of traditional African art: the tribal mask that long ago served as inspiration and the currency of cultural renewal for the twentieth century's European avant-garde. And what is singularly absent too is the continent's ubiquitous synecdoche so beloved by cultural tourists: exotic figures with elongated limbs, hand-carved or painted against orange sunsets, complete with wildlife, and luscious fauna.

Luminós/C/ity.Ordinary Joy: From the Pigozzi Contemporary African Art Collection, the inaugural exhibition recently presented at Harvard University's new Ethelbert Cooper Gallery of African and African American Art at the Hutchins Center in Cambridge, Mass., offered a compelling and eclectic assemblage of different artistic approaches, loosely structured around the theme of the African city.

Photo by Dean Kaufman.

A much welcomed and highly anticipated addition to Harvard University's long established gallery and museum circuit, the gallery's self declared remit is to create a space - the first on any US campus - where, to paraphrase the Hutchins Center founding director Professor Henry Louis Gates Jr.: "the art and artists of the African Diaspora are at home and in constant movement, where voices are heard in both startling clarity and productive cacophony".

Conceived by Professor Gates and designed by British Ghanaian architect David Adjaye, the Cooper Gallery opened its doors to critical acclaim in September last year, and the inaugural exhibition reflected this unique mission in interesting and surprising ways. While it provided a sense of place for a diverse body of artistic practices from the continent rarely seen in the US, it also spoke confidently to the conundrum of collecting and exhibiting African artworks, and to the critical question of how these works translate and resonate in environments far removed from their indigenous context.

Complex questions without doubt, and guest curators David Adjaye and Mariane Ibrahim-Lenhardt - working in close collaboration with gallery director Vera Grant - have eloquently mastered the challenging task by choosing a fine and thought-provoking selection from a fascinating collection historically steeped in controversy.

The 98 artworks by twenty-one artists were chosen from several thousand pieces assembled by Italian businessman and philanthropist Jean Pigozzi and associates for his private collection, The Contemporary African Art Collection (CAAC). Since its inception in the late 1980s the collection has been the subject of the most extraordinary set of claims and counter claims; not in small part due to its original, arguably somewhat limiting if not primitivist, collecting criteria: eligible artists had to be black, live and work on the continent and ideally 'untainted' by formal art education.

So how does one then select respectfully, responsibly and strategically from such a vast repertoire of visual stimuli, all subject to the aforementioned claims? And in a way that does not appear reductive? How does one link art works by more than mere shared geographies and subvert stereotypes rather than confirming them, whilst preserving the 'quirk' and idiosyncracy of each? And how does one avoid the dangers of isolating artistic practice originating from one place on our planet from the wider discourse of art?

One very remarkable and thought-provoking way of meeting this challenge of re-assembling the collection in a way that is meaningful to a new audience, was to invite David Adjaye - the architect tasked with transforming the former commercial space into an avant-garde gallery complex - to also curate the first exhibition. This is a radical and interesting proposition because it is one that opens up a unique dialogue between art and environment, via eight discrete curatorial spaces, painted in deep charcoal tones, of different heights and configurations. Intriguingly, Adjaye designed the exterior façade of the Cooper Gallery to represent a Kumasi forest, inviting passers-by to glimpse inside through its wooden beams and glass panels, enabling the inside to speak to the outside, and vice versa.

Considering the distinct architectural lens applied to this curatorial exercise, it is of no surprise that Luminós/C/ity.Ordinary Joy opened with an intricate architectural sculpture, the work of Congolese artist Bodys Isek Kingelez. Meticulously crafted, the artist's vision of a brilliant African city encapsulated the exhibition's premise beautifully: Kingelez' post-modernist buildings fabricated from cardboard and other found materials are fueled by the desire to create different, new and necessary worlds; to become active agents in the process of shaping the future - an aspiration shared by many of the artists and protagonists represented throughout the exhibition.


Image: Bodys Isek Kingelez, Kimbembele Ihunga, 1994. Photo by Dean Kaufman.

Utopian and fantastic at first glance, these miniature model cities also point towards another darker reality, namely the deeply problematic building projects frequently to be found throughout the African megalopolis: excesses of urban planning, fairytale monuments financed by World Bank loans impossible to repay or complete: shattered dreams of development manifest as half-finished ruins of modernity amidst chaos, corruption and post-colonial disillusionment.

Image: Seydou Keïta, Untitled, 1949. Courtesy of CAAC.

Yet it is precisely within these spaces of turmoil that the artists - and the curators - seek moments of 'ordinary joy'. This is brilliantly illustrated in the exhibition's numerous examples of aspirational street and studio photography: the 'dream-factories' where artists become 'merchants of illusion', transforming their clientele into modern citizens of the world, posed against elaborately painted backdrops that feature contemporary interiors, opulent furnishings and Manhattan skylines (courtesy of Ghanaian artist Philip Kwame Apagya). In the grand portraiture of Malian pioneers Seidou Keita and Malick Sidibé, or the joie de vivre documentary images captured by renowned Congolese photographer Jean Depara, we encounter in its most pristine, original form, beautiful people in hedonistic moments of self-fashioning, members of an emergent cosmopolitan class in the decades leading up to independence, and later in the post-colony.

The art of recycling and assemblage emerges as another recurring leitmotif in the city: reclaiming discarded objects to transfigure Europe's waste into Africa's growth, conceptual artists Romuald Hazoumé, Calixte Dakpogan and Concalo Mabunda endow miscellaneous items of rubbish and discarded weapons with cubist-like human faces. Gasoline canisters with eyes made of mobile phones and mouths created from tinned fish cans eerily resemble traditional African masks, the quintessential signifier and product for consumption of Africa in the West. Collectively, they evoke centuries of European powers stripping the continent of its natural resources: canned sardines become synonymous of human cargo and the sinister horrors of contemporary migration and human trafficking, discarded mobile phones recall the ongoing and brutal mineral extraction in the Congo.

Image: Installation view, showing the work of Chéri Samba, Gonçalo Mabunda (centre), and Kudzanai Chiurai. Photo by Renée Mussai.

Playful, cynical and uncanny, these global junk artworks offer damning socio-political commentary on the legacies of cold-war politics, and a subtle critique of our capitalist, exploitative consumer cultures, as well as the market place associated with contemporary art practice.

One of the exceptional charms of Luminós/C/ity.Ordinary Joy is its power to offer its audience different experiences and sensations as one moves from one exhibition chamber, alcove or corridor to the next, owing much to Adjaye's intuitive gallery design which offers multiple points of engagement and pathways for discovery.

A chilling sense of unease accompanies Kudzanei Chiurai's post-modern rendition of the Last Supper morphing into a tableaux of violence, or Nandipha Mntambo's looped video of a lone bullfighter locked in a process of endless sublimation between public spectacle and private self, masculine and feminine, past and present. These challenging and historically laden contemporary moving image works are quickly diffused by the lighthearted humour inherent in exhibits such as Samuel Kane Kwei's elaboratively decorated Mercedes-shaped coffin-car, produced in the artist's family carpentry business in Ghana in the early 1990s.

Image: Installation view, showing Mercedes (1993) by Samuel Kane Kwei in the centre. Photo by Dean Kaufman.

J.D. 'Okhai Ojakere's portraits of extraordinary Nigerian hairstyles, organzsed in a large grid, again reveal a distinctive architectural sensibility, that echo in their taxonomy the industrial buildings projects of German artist duo Bernd and Hilla Becher. The final room dominated by a series of intricate drawings by Abu Bakarr Mansaray threatened to envelop the visitor in disturbing visions of a dystopian future, infused with a dark militarism and epic fantasy - only to be rescued by the sheer scale and fun of Titos Mabota's colossal bicycle sculpture installed at the far end of the gallery.

Image: Installation view, showing Titos Mabota, Rural Bicycle (1998) and Abu Bakarr Mansaray, Sinister Project (2006). Photo by Renée Mussai.

At times, one is overcome by the multiplicity of themes and genres on display: the sense of 'everything and nothing' that inevitably accompanies the bricolage of curating out of large, mixed media collections, and the feeling of dislocation that ensues. The curators' decision to adopt the theme of the African city as the over-arching narrative served as a useful means for the difficult task of extracting multi-faceted cultural meaning from the pantomime of pre and post-colonial history: the tension created between exuberant articulations of urban city life, the formation of new subjectivities and performative selves, somber reflections on violence, destruction and death, apocalyptic visions of state surveillance and civil chaos, utopian fantasies and sharp environmental critique - all mediated via the many transitory spaces between the private and the public.

Encompassing five decades of drawing, installation, photography, painting, video and sculpture in Africa, Luminós/C/ity.Ordinary Joy was a triumphant and bold inaugural offering from a distinctive gallery space that promises to its local community - both inside and outside the academy - many transformative encounters to come.


Renée Mussai
London, January 2015


Luminós/C/ity.Ordinary Joy: From the Pigozzi Contemporary African Art Collection was on display at the Hutchins Center's Ethelbert Cooper Gallery of African and African American Art, Harvard University, Cambridge, Mass., between 21 September 2014 - 8 January 2015. The accompanying catalogue (edited by Vera Grant and featuring 97 image plates and several contextual essays) is available from the Cooper Gallery, and Harvard University Press.

Immature, self-obsessed and irreverent, Appropriate Behavior is a generation defining work. Writer/Director Desiree Akhavan subtly highlights unique problems of an American youth that finds itself torn between old and new cultures, ideologies and sexualities. At its core, Appropriate Behavior is a simple portrait of love in the modern world.

It is exceedingly difficult to draw meaningful material from the life of a twenty-something without it seeming melodramatic or superficial or uninteresting. Unless the lead character is fighting in a war or the youngest CEO of a multi-million dollar company or a superhero, their story is assumed unworthy of the silver screen. However, this transitory period of a person's life is an important time of discovery and energy. It is crucial that honest movies are made about youth. Youth is our single most underrated and underutilized resource as a nation. There is a generation gap in this country that extends to every societal issue. Homophobia, racism, classism are all characterized by a willing ignorance of youthful ideas.


Desiree Akhavan stars in APPROPRIATE BEHAVIOR
© 2015 APPROPRIATE BEHAVIOR

The true bravery of this film is present in universal truths that cross all cultural boundaries. Simply put, Desiree Akhavan is not afraid to be ugly, and that, perhaps more than anything, is true beauty. In her own words: "I chose to star in the film because it would have been disingenuous to have hired a better looking version of me." That is the key statement to understanding this story. It's not about agreeing with the character's choices. It's about seeing that she is human and recognizing the same humanity in yourself. We've all acted immature, irrational and impulsive because of love. It's just what you do when you're broken-hearted.

So many American movies are severely over-plotted to ensure audience interest. In actuality, overly plot-driven stories can be alienating and even insulting to an audience. It is an insecure form of filmmaking. If Boyhood has taught us anything about cinema, it's that the truth of an experience lies not in amazing events, but instead in the tiny, ephemeral moments. That is where Appropriate Behavior succeeds. It doesn't depend on plot points to hold your attention. Instead, it immerses you in the little nuances of relationships. It is a refreshingly secure structure. If confidence is sexy, then this is one of the sexiest movies ever made. It's not an arrogant attitude, quite the opposite. Desiree Akhavan has the courage to be vulnerable, and that is a rare quality in entertainment.

Desiree Akhavan stars in APPROPRIATE BEHAVIOR
© 2015 APPROPRIATE BEHAVIOR

There are so many things to point to as the breakthrough achievements of this picture. It's a huge step for second-generation immigrants. It's valuable to the bisexual and lesbian communities. It contributes to the recent renaissance of comedic female characters breaking out of ladylike expectancies. There is a great amount of freedom in art, and this film takes advantage of that. In a world where freedom of speech is constantly under attack, Desiree Akhavan employs an intelligent voice of reason. She does so not by pounding you over the head with messages of morality, but by telling an honest, relatable story. It is told with humor and keen observation, remarkably breaking barriers by simply being.

Get your tickets here! Also available on VOD.

Co-authored by Jonas Kooyman

A new installation by Sara Shaoul

France's Reproduction Subsidies

U.S Obligations


In France, mothers get a medal from the government after having four children or more. Some call it the "Reproduction Medal." It's a fact that artist Sara Shaoul learned this year during her summer residency in Paris. It's one of many parent/government-related facts that she stumbled upon during her stay. For example: French mothers get paid maternity leave and child-care costs are next to nothing, thanks to government subsidies. Fascinated, she decided to compare the American system to the French. After getting back to New York, the artist used this inspiration to complete her installation, How To Love Like a French Woman.

Shaoul explains, "This is part of a series of work that grew out of my research during my Artslant residency in France. The title comes from the now enormous list of articles I have compiled teaching American women to be more like French women. This phenomenon of cultural comparison, and its larger meaning, was the starting point of my project. I have also been working on text pieces that elaborate on how the information I gathered intersects with my personal narrative."

In a series of photos it's Shaoul herself, nude, photographed from midriff to thighs, with a number more or less burned onto her belly at uterus height. Ingeniously, she used an over-the-counter cream to get an allergic reaction so the stenciled numbers would be raised.

"Serious life-altering issues are made around these numbers that lose their meaning when you take them out of context," says the artist. Here's number 579.13: the amount of euros that a family receives from the French government per month for one child, regardless of means or professional history. This only includes the monetary contributions directly going to the family. 11670: the maximum income in U.S. dollars that a single adult household in New York can earn in order to qualify for subsidized childcare services.

Says Shaoul: "I thought these numbers really spoke to this clear connection between economic policy and government policy and, literally, the decisions you make for your uterus. So I went for this very visceral, painful... [laughing] disembodied body that is floating in this.... Somebody said it looks like a coffin." In a way her work is reminiscent of the Dutch feminists of the 1960s, who would also use their bellies to communicate and protest (in their case, during pro-choice protests, they would write, Baas in Eigen Buik -- Boss of Our Own Belly" on their tummies.)

So how did this obsession with these numbers start, I asked her. "When one is in a foreign country we are looking at the Other, what is the Other -- it's a reflection of ourselves. There's this duality when you arrive at a new place, who are they, and who am I? It's a constant bounce back." In this phase, Shaoul was noticing the huge differences in government subsidies.

The difference between U.S. and French citizens was striking, almost the ultimate contrast. "In France, it's: you are our citizens, you have to do this, this and this, and in return you'll get this, this and this. America is the land of the self-made man. And the cowboy. And the individualist. The pioneer. The maverick. All these words that mean, I did it my way. P.S.: Don't tell me what to do! P.S.: Don't take my money! P.S.: I don't even really want to pay taxes! There are all these sorts of subscripts and postscripts: If I don't want to send my kids to school and I'll teach them at home what I want, crazy stuff. I don't think that would fly in Europe.... In France the system tries to equalize. Here you have a top that's getting lifted up. The rest down."

Even though much of Shaoul's work is about institutions and their relationship to power -- such as her Chase Manhattan Plaza installation, she wouldn't call herself a typical art-activist. "When I see something is oversimplified, I want a way to show the complexity. This is my form of activism. I continue to explore these ideas, in a new piece of work I've begun examining and manipulating overlapping forms of capitalist reproduction -- the body and the stock market."

We can't wait, Ms. Shaoul!

From Whence We Came, 2014
oil on canvas panel
22-1/2 x 26-1/2" fr.

At Lora Schlesinger Gallery in Santa Monica, painter Kimberly Merrill is showing a group of fifteen works that explore themes of spirituality, human connection and saintliness. Painted with exquisite care, Merrill's oils demonstrate her mastery of light and form, both of which are remarkable, especially considering that she came to painting late in life after raising a family.

I recently interviewed Kimberly and asked her about her background, her ideas and her subjects.



Kimberly Merrill: Photo - Jon Swihart

Tell me a bit about your early life: when did you know you were an artist?

I grew up in a middle class Minnesota family where art was not on our radar. Later, when I became a stay-at-home Mom, I did the traditional female arts: knitting, quilting, crocheting, etc. When we left Minnesota for my husband's career, I starting taking classes at the local community college. One of the first classes I took was ceramics, which I loved, but when I took my first 2D class, I was hooked. It was during that time that I accustomed myself to the idea that I could actually be an artist.

It was so out of my perception of myself that it took a while. I was divorced in 2000, which forced me into making a decision to fully commit to painting. I was accepted at Laguna College of Art and Design that year, at the age of 44: it was a bit of a late start! With hindsight, I realize that the 'female arts' were my outlet for expression before I discovered the fine arts and knew that I was an artist.



Reverence, 2014
oil on panel
30 x 22-7/16" fr.


Tell me about your experience in Laguna? Did you have any particularly helpful teachers or mentors there?

I graduated from LCAD with my BFA in 2004 and MFA in 2008. During my undergraduate years two teachers were pivotal in my experience and progress: Betty Shelton and Jonathan Burke. My confidence was in a particularly low place because of the divorce and they gave me added support and guidance that made all the difference.

In graduate school, Jon Swihart was my mentor, for which we have taken much ribbing! Jon likes to joke that he was paid to date me. All kidding aside, we had so much in common artistically and aesthetically, that it was a great match. People sometimes assume that Jon is responsible for influencing me with his style, but the truth is that we already had that in common. He has been instrumental in helping me evolve as a painter and has been my biggest champion.



Peacock, 2013
oil on canvas panel
30 x 24" fr.


How has your art evolved over time?

I haven't been painting all that long, but in the course of painting this show, I felt myself moving toward more simplicity. I love the emotional power of isolation and how in the isolation of a figure, the viewer can find connection to our human sense of being in this life alone, which ironically, we are all in together. In some of this work, I have used isolation from other people to focus on our connection to something bigger than us and to describe the phenomenon of being physically alone, but never alone in the true sense of the word.

Your recent work features the figure of Pierrot. Tell me about your interest in this character and what he stands for in your work.

The Pierrot character originated in the 17th century as part of the commedia dell'Arte, which was a type of Italian theatre made up of masked characters. He has evolved over the years in both appearance and purpose, but this isn't actually relevant to my work.

My interest in Pierrot had a serendipitous start...

We were planning a party for Jerry Ackerman's birthday and decided to do a live replication of one of Gerome's paintings, 'The Duel after the Masquerade,' in which there is a Pierrot character. This character originated in the 17th century as a part of a type of Italian theatre made up of masked characters. I was struck by the character, how in his costume and make-up he lost connection to race or nationality, or even age. He became an icon for the everyday man. To me, the white shimmering costume, on the other hand, is a generic reference to religious or ceremonial robes. The costume on the 'everyday man' is a reference to the spiritual nature, or 'saintliness' of us all. With this, I have to say, I am not associated with any formal religion, but I do believe this connection is our life-force and our connection to each other.



Man's Best Friend, 2013
oil on canvas panel
13-5/8 x 13-7/16" - fr.

You have a long-standing interest in painting animals: tell me a bit about that side of your work?

My first show was, 'Unleashed,' a show of dog paintings and portraits, and a dog does make an appearance in this show also. I believe dogs and other animals are our greatest teachers. They live their lives in the moment, innately aware of a life force beyond their physical form, through the good and bad experiences. They don't worry, complain and wish things were different than they are, and no matter how old they get, they still know how to enjoy life. The most amazing thing to me is how people change with the company of an animal and how that relationship can be remarkably healing. This relationship and these creatures deserve to be honored, and that's why they are represented by Lenny, the dog.



No Dress Rehearsal, 2014
oil on canvas panel
30-3/8 x 27-5/8" - fr.

Can you say a few things about the spiritual aspects of your recent work?

The stresses of the culture we live in are continually pulling us away from our own spiritual connection and from each other. I have come to see my work as a spiritual practice and contribution to countering that imbalance in my own small way. These days, the foundation of everything I paint is spiritually based, in that it brings attention to the divine connection we have to a higher power/energy, nature and each other. We are faced with so much negativity all around us; I want my work to be more of a peaceful retreat from all of that noise.



Ephemeral, 2012
oil on canvas panel
23-1/2 x 19-1/2" - fr.

What are some of your favored media and working methods?

I have focused just on oil painting for the last several years and work in a traditional academic style. A large percentage of my pieces are quite small, which suits my temperament and studio size well.

I have always taken an intuitive approach to my work, but in the beginning I thought it was just being naïve. Now, I realize this is authentic for me. I'm not an intellectual painter. If I work just from my head, the work seems contrived and flat, because it lacks the emotions I feel most driven to relate.

What are your interests outside of art?

We have great friends that we enjoy spending time with and I have come full circle and re-embraced knitting and sewing, which surprises me more than anyone. I love the meditative quality of knitting and, as it turns out I'm not bad at it, so I've been taking commissions and selling my work. It's a great thing to be making money while watching TV in the evenings! I love to read, although I haven't been spending much time at it lately.

KIMBERLY MERRILL
Divine Journey
Lora Schlesinger Gallery
2525 Michigan Ave. #T3
Santa Monica, CA 90404

January 17 - February 21, 2015

Quality filmmaking isn't just about what footage you put up on the screen -- it's what you choose not to put up there. Sometimes too much of a good thing can be just as frustrating as too little. Which is why a tight script and an experienced editor will always be a director's best friend. Unfortunately, the following movies were made in defiance of this age-old advice. And believe me, they all suffered the consequences in their own ways...

Jackie Brown (154 mins.)

Quentin Tarantino's views on movie length have always been at odds with, you know, society's. At least when it comes to his own creations. And although none of Q's flicks will be accused of anything resembling brevity, this one remains the worst offender by far. Spinning the yarn of a flight attendant hoping to swipe a half million dollars, Jackie Brown wallows in stakes simply not high enough to warrant two hours and 34 minutes of screen time. Worse still, we poor, unsuspecting viewers are eventually subjected to the same 'bag switcheroo at the department store' scene over and over again, from various characters' POVs (with precious little payoff, btw). I honestly haven't spent this much time at the shopping mall since I was fifteen.



Star Trek: The Motion Picture (132 mins.)

Sometimes a 'lengthy' film's problems have little to do with its run-time. At two hours and 12 minutes, the first installment of the hit-and-miss Star Trek movie franchise isn't obscenely long -- it just feels that way. A key culprit here is the excruciatingly drawn out set-up. With their film hitting theatres a full decade after the original series concluded, Paramount Pictures and director Robert Wise clearly wanted to give the stars their due. Which means the entire first act is little more than a series of cast re-introductions. "Hey, it's Spock! What's he been up to? And look, there's crotchety old McCoy! Let's follow him around for a while!" And so on and so forth, with every. Single. Character. Couple this with impossibly long exterior shots of ships docking and space looking all pretty, and it's no wonder you'll want to take a Learning Annex editing course and cut this sucker down to size. Also, the bad guy turns out to be an old NASA probe that's come to life -- a ham-fisted reveal we can all agree should have been cut too.



The Matrix Reloaded (138 mins.)

What made the original Matrix film an instant classic was its pitch-perfect balance of suspense, action and mythology. Put another way: it messed with your mind as it kung-fued your body. Sadly, the long-awaited follow-up achieved just the opposite. Replace 'mythology' with 'confusing techno-babble,' 'action' with 'sensory overload,' and 'suspense' with 'long, pointless set pieces' (that Zion rave scene, anyone?). Basically, The Matrix Reloaded sees our beloved franchise crawling up its own arse, and the end result, as you might expect with such a contortion, ain't too pretty. Ponderous, navel gazey and remarkably flat, this film will make you want to reconnect those firewire cables and crawl back into your fetus pod.



2001: A Space Odyssey (161 mins.)

Sure, it's a visually stunning cinematic classic with groundbreaking special effects. But it's wayyyyyy toooooooo freakinnnnnnnnnnn' lonnnnnnnnng. And not because Stanley Kubrick had too many brilliant things to cram in there. 2001: A Space Odyssey could be perfectly told in an hour and forty-five minutes, without rushing any of the story beats, dialogue or character development. There's an age-old rule of cinema the Kube chose to blatantly disregard: begin each scene as late as possible, then end each one as early as possible. Hey Stanley: to establish the fact humans evolved from apes, you don't need to give us thirty minutes of primitive monkey men eating, sleeping, fighting and pooping.



King Kong (187 mins.)

The story of King King is so incredibly taut, I can tell it as a haiku:

Monkey gets captured
Steals girl, climbs building, goes splat
Beauty killed the beast

Which begs the question: why is Peter Jackson's 2005 update a full 87 minutes longer than the 1933 original? Simply put, it's because he's Peter Jackson, and my man loves when stuff overstays its welcome ("Adapt Tolkien's 300-page novel The Hobbit into three feature-length movies? Sure!"). Less is most certainly more, and believe me, viewers needed much, much less of this bloated tale of oversized simian lust. Here's a filmmaking tip for you budding directors out there: when possible, try and have your title character appear within the first seventy minutes of screen time. Just a thought.

Now in its 20th year, the Los Angeles Art Show concluded this past weekend. However, it has only been in the past few years that its international recognition has reached levels of significant importance in regards to diversity, while simultaneously recognizing the burgeoning local scene coming from the last stop on the Western frontier. Once again, Los Angeles has become the Wild West in regards to a new boom, which has tapped into its historical narrative of previous rushes like gold, health, sunshine, industry, manufacturing, film, oil, and others. Today we are experiencing a cultural revolution and although in prior rushes we had an influx of migrants that contributed to its development, this one is internal and champions the native as the major benefactor. No exhibition captured this zeitgeist better than Dark Progressivism: Metropolis Rising. Put together by Cindy Schwarzstein and Lisa Derrick of Cartwheel Art, an online magazine and far reaching media sponsor, the exhibition's monochromatic theme, (blacks, whites, greys) was a captivating experience that gave you a sense of exhilaration and familiarity. Its roots can be traced back to German Expressionism, film noir, Social Realism, and the Rupture Generation, and often at the booth people would recognize some of these connections, while also maintaining, "This is so L.A."

The Dark Progressivism: Metropolis Rising exhibition showed you a different Los Angeles though, the one that isn't associated with booster ideology like sunshine, orange groves, and Chamber of Commerce land speculation. The collection of artists represented were myth debunking artists that come from all over the Southland, one as far north as Jack Morris, currently housed at the Pelican Bay SHU program for almost thirty years. The diversity, background and location amongst the artists, such as Big Sleeps and Jose "Prime" Reza of Pico Union, Juan Carlos Munoz Hernandez, Daniel Gonzalez, and Alex "Defer" Kizu of Boyle Heights, Chaz Bojorquez of Highland Park, Gary Wong of South Central, Michael Ulrich of Glendale, Cryptik of Pasadena, Jason Hernandez of Bellflower, Jesse Hazelip of Ventura, Rafael Reyes of San Diego, Abel Alejandre of Long Beach, Roberto Gutierrez of Chinatown/Lincoln Heights, and Ed Gutter of Whittier was done purposely. The vast landscape itself represented the city-state perspective of the Los Angeles megalopolis and its tentacle-like reach that transcends county lines in general. And like all city-states of prior civilizations that achieved greatness, such as Athens, Tenochtitlan, and Edo, the art and literature of the period was hailed as a major indicator of their legacy.

The exhibition was also associated with the film, Dark Progressivism: On Rupture and Rebellion, which is a social science research film that uses contemporary Los Angeles art, including tattoo, fine art, calligraphy, murals, and graffiti as the subject matter, while playing close attention to the social conditions from which it was produced. The film is scheduled to be released in October and is still in production. In today's fast-paced urban environment, the complexity of modern technologies is as overwhelming as its ever been, but it is in the coping techniques that you find solace. In the 1920's, Louis Adamic, a Yugoslavian immigrant in Los Angeles wrote about laughing in the jungle, the concrete jungle, as a way to cope with anxiety, absurdity, isolation, or the quest for community in the modern-day Los Angeles metropolis. He viewed Los Angeles as a jungle, a place where things flourish and grow temporarily, but then fall to decay and chaos and must make room for something else rising from beneath... the underground. And that is Dark Progressivism, coming from beneath, and having the best seat in the economic union of the Pacific Rim...Los Angeles.



Photo credit, Lisa Derrick and Michael Ulrich 2015

The New Year, "SIDE SHOW", "Mr. Turner", "Big Eyes", Goya at The National Arts Club. "Death Becomes Her: A Century of Mourning Attire" at The Metropolitan Museum, "After The War Is Over" by Jennifer Robson, Bird Watching for Couch's Kingbird.

Re-NEW-all!

We decided to take time off during this holiday season to reconnect with our life and ourselves. The iPhone was turned down to "vibrate," dear Ms. MAC, went onto "sleep" mode, and we entered a period of reflection -- doing an editorial on our life -- reevaluating what truly works in the "now", to what we are truly looking forward, and what we might edit out, letting go of.

So much of the time we find ourselves on "the Conveyor Belt of Life," continuously active -- on-the-move -- with the illusion we are moving forward -- while we are actually spinning out, running on that ever-revolving wheel.

It is important to have that daily pause -- to meditate and tune out -- turning inward for insights and centering. However an extended period of Re-NEW-all -- disconnecting to re-connect in a more meaningful manner -- revitalizes one, body and soul.



New Year's Portal of Joy

SIDE SHOW
Broadway's SIDE SHOW is both fascinating and entertaining.

Inspired by the remarkable true story of the legendary Siamese Twins -- Daisy and Violet Hilton- the highest paying vaudeville act ever, the musical focuses on their poignant search for love, acceptance and "Normalcy" midst the spotlight of fame.

As a schoolgirl in NYC's avant-garde aspiring artist scene, I recall seeing the 1932 counterculture American horror film, "Freaks." (The original version was considered too shocking to be released, and no longer exists.)

In the film, the physically deformed "freaks" are inherently trusting and honorable people, while the real monsters are two of the "normal" members of the circus who conspire to murder one of the performers to obtain his large inheritance.

In the play, the Hilton twins are offered a part in this film, Freaks.

The music by multiple Grammy and Golden Globe award-winning Henry Krieger with Bill Condon is catchy and memorable.

Under discussion is a possible London debut.



The Hilton Twins beautifully performed by Erin Davie as Violet with Siamese Twin Emily Padgett as Daisy



Protector Buddy Foster played by the very talented Matthew Hydzik

MR. TURNER

"Mr. Turner" -- presented by Sony Pictures Classics -- explores the last quarter of a century in the life of the great eccentric English painter, J.M.W. Turner (1775-1881).

Actor Timothy Spall gives a marvelous portrayal of the nuances of this complex artist -- from his use of spittle, eggs, whatever...to create his masterpieces, through his convoluted relationship with his housekeeper -- suffering from a skin disease -- and late beachside affair, through his curious love/hate association with the Royal Academy of Arts and the English public.

It has recently been theorized that the ever-fascinating British eccentricity might have been the result of inbreeding within the rigid class structure.

Magnificent are the atmospheric seascapes of Margate where Turner spent his later years. His inspiration is clearly visible as is the correlation between the actual views and his paintings.



"Plein Air" Painter Turner on site at Margate



The very Eccentric J.M.W. Turner confronts The Royal Academy

BIG EYES

Being-raised in a sophisticated art-oriented NYC household, we were taught to view Keane as Commercial Art -- definitively not the stuff of Fine Art. At that time, there were rigid distinctions separating the two. Today these very categories have been blurred.

"Big Eyes," the new release by the Weinstein Company, and directed by the indomitably creative Tim Burton, is the story of the American Artist Margaret Keane, convincingly played by Amy Adams, and her wide-eyed art.

Manipulated by her deceitful husband, Walter Keane (aptly portrayed by Christopher Waltz)- who claimed her art and its consequent fame and fortune as his own. Keane not only became an international celebrity but also during the 1950s, pioneered the mass marketing of inexpensive prints.

This is also the tale of Margaret claiming her own "voice", and in so doing, Big Eyes also the story of "everywoman's" fight for her own justice.




Still actively painting -- Artist Margaret Keane with Actress Amy Adams -- on the set of "Big Eyes"



Margaret Keane at her easel with signature-style painting

NEWLY DISCOVERED GOYAs AT THE NATIONAL ARTS CLUB

The National Arts Club on Gramercy Park is one of NYC's venerable art institutions. So it was a delightful surprise to lean recently that unearthed from their mislabeled art collection archives, were a rare series of sketches by the Spanish Master Francisco de Goya. Mislabeled, this gift by the last descendant of Robert Henri remained hidden within the Club's Robert Henri Library.

Goya's bridges the worlds of the Old Master Art with that of the Modern. Working in the late 18th and early 19th century his art ranged from light-hearted to cynical. Perhaps due to illness - which left him deaf and disabled - he created these 80 prints of "Los Caprichos" depicting "the innumerable foibles and follies to be found in any civilized society..."

This important exhibit is on view, free to the public, at the Club through January 31st.



Goya's "Capricho #24



Capricho #15



Philanthropist Jean Shafiroff enjoys The Goya Opening

DEATH BECOMES HER: A CENTURY OF MOURNING ATTIRE

The Costume Institute at the Metropolitan Museum of Art has mounted a unique exhibition exploring the mourning fashions of the 19th and early 20th century -- its social and cultural context - and the fashionable, evolving dictates of bereavement.

The presentation includes thirty ensembles ranging fro 1815-1915 including a Mourning Dress worn by Queen Victoria -- who is noted for setting the standard; After the death of her beloved Consort Prince Albert in 1861, she wore only mourning attire for the next forty years.

Although black matte fabric wardrobe was worn at the beginning of the mourning period, as time preceded somber tones of gray, musk... might be introduced.

With the commercialization of women's fashion, additional livelier costumes were introduced.

The silhouettes of the introductory black mourning clothes were distinctive, identifying a woman in mourning from a distance.

It is interesting to note that these clothes were intended to protect the wearer, signifying their special status and thus shielding them from brash behavior and harsh interactions.




Black Silk Crepe Evening Dress with Ribbons, worn by Queen Victoria



1809 English Mourning Costume



James McCreery & Co 1894 American Purple full finish wool twill Half Mourning Dress



Mourning Dress as illustrated in Frank Leslie's Lady Magazine

AFTER THE WAR IS OVER by Jennifer Robson

This is the lovely second novel I.ve read by the gifted Toronto-based author, Jennifer Robson.

Revolving around an admirable, although very human central character, Charlotte Brown, the adopted daughter of a vicar who has dedicated her life to helping others, the novel is set against the background of England following WW I.

Concurrent with Downton Abbey, Robson presents a significantly different view of post-war England. Mostly based in Liverpool. The novel focuses on the devastating travails and challenges the impoverished working and middle class suffered -- from joblessness, through poverty with rigid skimpy food rations.

Although Charlotte is the Daughter of a Vicar, has been educated at Oxford, and as a professional woman is fortunate to earn a decent wage, she has served four years in a war-torn hospital on the front.

Although fully human and fraught with the consequent foibles and self-doubt, Charlotte's strength, discipline, and self-awareness as well as her good deeds make her a true heroine.



A William Morrow imprint from Harper Collins.

The COUCH's KINGBIRD

Finally, one of the most charming of street scenes on one of our now all-too-frequent unnaturally cold days in the village -- Bundled New Yorkers huddled together in great anticipation of seeing the very rare bird -- the Couch's Kingbird -- who it seems, has also taken a liking to our special West Village.

This beauteous bright yellow bird is the first of its species to be seen north of Texas and Louisiana, and to visit the Big Apple.

A hopeful sign...

May Peace, Love and Joy be yours in 2015!



West Villagers brave the cold to catch a possible glimpse of the visitor - the Couch's Kingbird.





The Rare & Popular Visitor -- Couch's Kingbird



Chez HRH Prince Shadow of Bank Street, Fluffer-Nutter Woofer-Snapper
Who notes he's cuddling in for the Winter

All Photographs © Jill Lynne 2015 Available for Purchase
JillLynne1@mac.com
www.JillLynne.com

Written and photographed by Scott Woodward

I believe that photography is the most accessible and democratic form of artistic expression. The ubiquity of digital cameras - on mobile phones or small point-and-shoot cameras all the way to large, powerful DSLR or medium format cameras - is making it ever simpler to capture high-quality images anywhere, anytime.

But as most will agree, making great photographs has little to do with owning the best and most expensive equipment. Personally, I believe that the real secret behind great photography is in how you see a moment and interpret it in a still frame, regardless of what type of camera you are using. Are you able to make something ordinary appear extraordinary by showing it differently? Are you able to make the viewer feel an emotion when they see your photograph? Are you able to transport someone to a moment with you simply by pressing the shutter?



I often find it hard to imagine what I did before I owned an iPhone. I've shot more pictures in the past five years than I have in my entire life, making more than twenty-five thousand photographs that I never would have ever created if I'd not had a camera in my pocket all the time.

My iPhone has undoubtedly made me a better photographer. As anyone who loves photography will attest, you cannot turn creativity on and off; amazing photographic opportunities exist all around us. And an endless stream of imagery floating across my screen from photographers across the globe on Instagram and Twitter and Flickr provides me with constant stimulation and inspiration. As photographer Chase Jarvis succinctly stated, "The best camera is the one that's with you". And my iPhone always is.



As a professional photographer, I am paid to document my experiences around the world. It is an amazing job, and I feel truly thankful and fortunate for my career and the opportunities I have. But, candidly, it is so invigorating to visit a new country, enjoy the sights and sounds and actually experience the journey - to be present and live the adventure, observing more with my own two eyes while being less concerned about capturing every moment through the lens of my camera. This is the approach I consciously took on a recent holiday to Myanmar.

I packed a camera bag full of my Nikon DSLRs and fast lenses, which I dutifully lugged on six flights into, across and out of "The Land of Golden Pagodas", and only dug them out of their cocoon twice in more than two weeks. It was refreshing, but more than anything else, it was liberating.

Of course, this doesn't mean that I didn't make many hundreds of images in Myanmar. It just meant that I did it differently. Rather than actively hunting for photographs, I allowed the photographs to find me. And I did it entirely on my iPhone. The result is a different kind of travel and photographic experience than I am used to having when working with my 35mm cameras. It was refreshing, but more than anything else, it was liberating. And I loved it.



I once read that a camera is a great excuse to delve into a place deeper than we otherwise would. I like this description. Making an interesting photograph means we must observe our surroundings differently and look beyond the obvious to see something unique and special.

I have always called my style "Choose Your Own Adventure Photography" after the books I used to read as a child. Literally and creatively, I can go one direction and discover a remarkable photographic opportunity; or I can go another direction and find something entirely different. It is this serendipity that is the beauty of photography for me. The 15 days I spent exploring and experiencing and enjoying Myanmar with my iPhone further validated this philosophy.

About Scott:

Scott's father is an avid and accomplished amateur photographer. When he was a young boy, he taught Scott how to operate a manual camera, skillfully interpret light and imaginatively compose an image. But more importantly, his dad instilled in him a sense of wonder and adventure; it is these traits that truly make Scott a photographer.

Scott's unique narrative photographic style has resulted in him being honoured by Luerzer's Archive as one of the "200 Best Ad Photographers Worldwide" and chosen by Nikon as "One of Asia's Finest Photographers".

Scott's work features regularly in international publications such as National Geographic Magazine, GEO, Condé Nast Traveller, Travel + Leisure, Monocle, Vogue, GQ, Esquire and The New York Times.

Scott has photographed international advertising campaigns for celebrated global brands Google, Adidas, MasterCard, Johnnie Walker, Bacardi, InterContinental Hotels, Standard Chartered Bank, Nestle, Johnson & Johnson and Unilever.

Scott is a Nikon Ambassador, a SanDisk Extreme Team Photographer and a Getty Images Global Assignments Photographer.

Browse Scott's portfolio follow him on Instagram and chat with him on Twitter

The so-called "Big 5" Academy Awards consist of:

• Best Picture
• Actor in a Leading Role
• Actress in a Leading Role
• Directing
• Writing (either Original Screenplay or Adapted Screenplay)

The failure of the movie Selma to garner 4 of the 5 aforementioned Oscar nominations (it was selected for Best Picture) has caused a kerfuffle for some.

The Reverend Al Sharpton called for "an emergency meeting" to discuss potential actions against the Academy. Filmmaker Spike Lee stated the perceived Oscar snub proves "We're not free at last, not free at last, we're not -- according to the Academy -- free at last!"

Selma has largely received positive reviews. It was surprising to many, myself included, that it did not receive more nominations. Perhaps the biggest surprise in this subjective process was the failure of the Academy to nominate the movie's director, Ava DuVeray.

Historically, the Best Picture and Best Director nominations are closely linked. There have only been four films in the Academy's 86-year history that won Best Picture without the director being nominated.

This tidbit, however, is more than enough in the court of public opinion to develop a conspiracy theory. Too often the formula used by barristers in this particular court is one part fact and three parts conjecture to offer a hypothesis that masquerades as an ironclad truth that is universal in scope.

I recently moderated a spirited discussion on Facebook around the question: "Why is Selma receiving Oscar snubs in the most prestigious categories an issue?"

In the words of Claude Raines in Casablanca, my question became a clarion call for many to "round up the usual suspects" -- and the primary suspect was racism. This belief was fostered by the fact the composition of those who vote for Academy Awards are overwhelmingly white, male and the coup des gras, they had an average age of 63.

Does this data alone equate to racism?

There is a valid argument to be made that the Academy needs to be more diverse in its nomination process. Diversity brings different perspectives that can be healthy for any institution.

I have no way of knowing if racism was indeed the underlying culprit. But when we become certain that our reflexive analysis has successfully proven what cannot be substantiated otherwise, are we not endowing ourselves with a form of arrogance that blinds us to any other possibility?

We all stand on different street corners. Our individual perspective should not be confused as the sum total of all there is to see.

My limited perspective as a heterosexual, well educated, male does not inherently make me sexist, elitist or homophobic if initially I'm unable to see other points of view. If I prefer John Coltrane to Charlie Parker, that's simply my perspective.

Personally, I don't believe Art Carney's role in the movie Tonto warranted the Best Actor Award in 1975 over Al Pacino in The Godfather Part 2 or Jack Nicholson in Chinatown.

Nor do I believe Judy Holiday, who was great in Born Yesterday, offered a better performance to garner the Oscar for Best Actress over Gloria Swanson in Sunset Boulevard or Bette Davis in All About Eve in 1951.

The underlying question in this debate: Does the importance of Selma hinge on validation from the Academy?

While an important part of American history that needed to be told, the producers of Selma are in it to make money, lest it would have been a documentary. If given the choice between taking home the "Big 5" Oscars, a feat that has only been accomplished 3 times, or making a profit on their $40 million investment, I suspect the latter option would invariably win out.

The importance of Selma does not depend on the opinion of those who felt it did not deserve additional nominations for a trophy that stands 13 ½ inches, weighing 8 ½ pounds.

After Selma runs it course in terms of box office receipts (domestic and international), DVD sales, video streaming and cable television; its true legacy may be determined by its ability to spur curiosity to find out more about this dark but epic moment in American history that made us all better.

Arriving on the outskirts of Chiapa de Corzo, we spied a masked duo a block away and began to follow them, certain they would lead us to what we had come to witness.

Under the heat of the high noon sun, I knew the pair must be sweltering in their black clothing, heavy serapes and ceremonial headgear. As we made our way down the near-empty street, past casitas painted in pastel shades, others in similar costumes emerged from doorways and side streets and fell into step. Greetings were called and the low buzz of excited chatter and laughter began to hum, punctuated by a percussive rat-a-tat-tat as members of the growing crowd began to shake silver tasseled rattles they held in their gloved hands.

Chiapa de Corzo's Dance of Parachicos is part of the Fiesta Grande de Enero, or Great January Feast, which takes place from January 4 to 23 every year. The Parachicos celebration has been named by UNESCO as an item of intangible cultural heritage and is often described as the best mestizo festival in southeastern Mexico. UNESCO cites the tradition as being held to honor of the local patron saints Our Lord of Esquipulas, Saint Anthony Abbot and Saint Sebastian.

In another explanation, according to legend, in 1711, during Mexico's Spanish Colonial era, Dona Maria de Angula was a rich Spanish woman who traveled to Chiapa de Corzo in search of a cure for a mysterious paralytic illness afflicting her son, which no doctor could cure. When she arrived, she was directed to a curandero, a local healer, who examined the boy, and instructed his mother to bathe him in the waters of a small lake. To amuse the boy, a local group disguised themselves as Spaniards with masks and began to dance, explaining "para el chico," which means "for the boy." The child was cured and the grateful mother expressed her appreciation to the town with a lavish feast, beginning the Fiesta Grande de Enero and Parachico Dance traditions.

The Parachicos' masks are made with cedar or Guanacaste, an endemic tree, and carved to resemble the European features of a Spaniard, and then lacquered with oil obtained from an insect called aje. Their wigs, adorned with flowers and ribbons, are made with ixtle, a rough fiber derived from agave plants.

We had become engulfed in a current of surreal strangers, all anonymous behind their painted masks. Bobbing along, we eventually spilled into the town's plaza, where clusters of raven-haired women congregated, showing off their full-length, off-the-shoulder dresses emblazoned with vivid floral designs. As they vamped and vogued, teenage couples stole kisses in the shadows of La Pila Fountain, a Moorish structure with eight immense arches constructed in 1562. A father and son were beginning to dress in their Parachico attire, with the older man crossing a red sash around his mid-section and the boy wrapping a bandana around his head before donning the heavy headpiece.

Flowing forward with the widening stream of revelers, we found ourselves in an arcade -- also dressed for the occasion, its timbered white ceilings festooned with brightly-painted bowls hung by ribbons. A grandmother held a chubby-cheeked girl with a lavender ribbon in her hair almost as big in diameter as her head. Old men in pork pie hats greeted each other with a warm embrace. A middle-aged woman cinched the waist of her 20-something daughter's dress, and they squabbled affectionately as the mother tightly tied the bow.

The tide of revelers then moved us through an archway, down stairs and into a park pulsating with wildly dancing Parachicos, cavorting to the pounding beat of a ten-piece mariachi band. In the shadow of the towering Santo Domingo church, serapes swirled, rattles waved high in the air, and dust rose around the writhing bodies. On the stage, a trio of full-figured matrons held their flouncy skirts high and twirled while three marimba players displayed artful choreography on the xylophone-like instrument with Mayan roots. The brass section soared and swayed in time, all in matching pale yellow shirts, their hair slicked up and gleaming.

I was unable to resist the call and tore away from my husband Tom and our guide Jesus and dove into the midst of the crowd, determined to do a shutterbug dance and shoot pictures while shaking my hips to the music. Quickly realizing my motor coordination skills only permitted one of the two activities, I slung my camera over my shoulder and became one with the Paracheco movement, joyously dancing with abandon, and letting loose a loud whoop, knowing I couldn't be heard over the reverberating revelry.


Eventually, sweaty and panting, I found my way back to Tom and Jesus and we made our way to the plaza in front of Santo Domingo. An even bigger crowd milled about, and a sense of anticipation emanated. Jesus tugged at my elbow and pointed in the opposite direction. Up the neighboring hill was a sea of ixtle wigs, bobbing up and down and then advancing toward us. An immense procession of Parachicos made its way to the church, with hundreds of elbows flying, legs kicking, knees jerking, and fingers pointed skyward. As I watched from the sidelines, the individual gyrations blurred into a sensation of one giant mass of jubilant energy.

Inspired as an antidote to one young boy's ill health, more than 300 years later the Dance of the Parachicos is alive and well. My own middle-aged muscles had begun to ache but I couldn't have been happier about catching Chiapa de Corzo's infectious spirit of camaraderie and exuberance.

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Meg Pier's www.ViewfromthePier.com is all about exploring the world's cultural traditions & spiritual practices through travel and photography.

I wonder how many of you have ever been to Buffalo, New York. Yes, Buffalo, New York. Last Sunday, I discovered not one, but 70+ reasons to go there. In celebration of its 150th anniversary, the Albright-Knox Art Gallery in Buffalo organized a travelling exhibition, Gauguin to Warhol, which is currently on display at The San Diego Museum of Art.



Guilty as charged, I went to see this blockbuster exhibition just a week before it closes this coming Sunday. And let me tell you my friends, if you don't drop whatever you're doing and rush to see this exhibition, you are depriving yourself of the rare pleasure of seeing a treasure trove of great artworks.



The museum press release states, "The works featured in this exhibition are so iconic, that they could each be the star of their own show." And, indeed, many artists in the exhibition are represented by not just very good, but simply the best examples of their works.



Van Gogh's countryside landscape, The Old Mill, 1888, vibrates with his trademark bravura brushstrokes and, miraculously, retains the freshness of each color as if the paint was squeezed out of the tube just yesterday.

Picasso's 1906 La Toilette, with its two female figures --one naked and the other dressed --is his homage to classical art, and what is mind-boggling, is that it was painted just a year before his revolutionary cubist masterpiece, Les Demoiselles d'Avignon, 1907. In just one year, Picasso makes an artistic leap that would have taken others a lifetime to achieve.



Gauguin's Spirit of the Dead Watching, 1892, with its naked teenage girl lying facedown on a bed makes one wonder... Is she afraid of dead spirits, or of the looming sexual encounter? Or maybe she is anticipating the visual earthquake that Clyfford Still captures a half-century later in his majestic 1957 abstract expressionist painting.



Frida Kahlo's Self Portrait with Monkey, 1938, will make you long for a trip to her museum in Mexico City. One wonders what Frida would say looking at the over-the-top drama of nearby The Liver is the Cock's Comb, 1944, Arshile Gorky's abstract composition. Would she hear the echo of her own tragic experiences?



But enough with the drama, let's have some fun. Here's a happy, smiling peasant painted by Chagall in a nostalgic scene (Peasant Life, 1925) evoking a pre-revolutionary Russian village. Jacques Lipchitz, another Russian expatriate, is represented by his early, and rather playful, bronze figurative sculpture, Sailor with Guitar, 1914, with its references to Cubism. It's difficult not to feel sad about the decline of his art as we see it in his large, bulbous, bronze sculpture, created a half-century later and, for some strange reason, has been "gracing" The Music Center plaza in downtown LA for the last few decades...


To learn about Edward's Fine Art of Art Collecting Classes, please visit his website. You can also read The New York Times article about his classes here.


___________

Edward Goldman is an art critic and the host of Art Talk, a program on art and culture for NPR affiliate KCRW 89.9 FM. To listen to the complete show and hear Edward's charming Russian accent, click here.

Like an impeccably tailed suit or perfectly curated home, it takes a certain discerning eye and je-ne-sais-quoi to polish things off with ease. Good design draws as much upon intuition as tradition, rooms should feel as though they were furnished over time with momentous that have a sense of personal history. We picked the brains of six of today's most dapper and stylish sartorial tastemakers from the fashion industry to see how their exemplary personal and professional style can be transferred to the principals of interior design. It is their deep passions for both fashion and interior design, and merging these affections into shared and inviting visual experiences that have defined their signature styles.



Brad Goreski
Celebrity Stylist and Television Personality

How would you describe your personal style?
Geek chic with a little bit of showgirl.

How do you think working in the fashion industry has influenced your decorating style?
It has helped streamline my style. I like a very edited space. Not a lot of clutter.

What would you say are the main differences between how you dress yourself and how you dress your home?
I think my living space is pretty quiet and still with pops here and there. My outfits can be very loud. My house is not like that.

What would you say is your most treasured item in your home and why?
The Hermes chair in our living room. I randomly found it on eBay. Everything about it is perfect.


Photo courtesy The Coveteur

What is one thing you think every man needs in his home and why?
Separate bathroom from his wife/husband. It's the key to a successful relationship.

Where are some of your favourite places to shop for home décor pieces?
I love One Kings Lane. I bought a lot of pieces from the site for our home. I think it allows you to really buy what you like without overthinking it. I didn't really know where anything was going to go. It all just happened to come together.


Photo courtesy The Coveteur

Douglas Friedman
Photographer

How would you describe your personal style?
I feel like I have become quite simple (what I mean is lazy) when it comes to my style. It's just so much easier to own duplicates of the same thing and dress the same way every day. I guess you could call it a uniform. It makes packing for assignments out of town (something I find myself on every week) so easy.

How do you think working in the fashion industry has influenced your decorating style?
I think that the fashion industry, and all of the colorful and exciting people I get to work with has definitely shaped my decoration style. So much influence around me every day, so much creative power... it's hard not to feel inspired.

What would you say are the main differences between how you dress yourself and how you dress your home?
I don't wear fur, but my home is COVERED in it.


Photo courtesy The Coveteur

What would you say is your most treasured item in your home and why?
Do my dogs count?

What is one thing you think every man needs in his home and why?
Every man needs a cast iron skillet... there is nothing more impressive than preparing bacon and eggs in the morning for an overnight guest. That or three perfect sets of sheets.

Where are some of your favorite places to shop for home décor pieces?
I love Roark Modern in NYC. Lisa Bowles has curated the most exciting collection of furniture and art. And Avenue Road in Toronto, New York and Miami has the most unique furniture that you can't get anywhere else. I love the collaborations that they do with artists and designers.


Photo courtesy Miguel Jacob

Cameron Williamson
Editor-in-chief at Flare Magazine

How would you describe your personal style?
Comfortably classic with a modern twist.

How do you think working in the fashion industry has influenced your decorating style?
Fashion is fleeting. Trying to dress on trend season after season can be exhausting. Instead, I find a style that works; one I can stick to for a few years. Similarly, when it comes to decorating my home, I steer clear of micro trends. Home decor should look effortless, never trendy.

What would you say are the main differences between how you dress yourself and how you dress your home?
Actually, there aren't many differences. Comfortably classic with a modern twist pretty much sums up my decorating scheme, too. One distinction, however, is the color black. I don't really own any black clothing; I'm super pale and don't like looking like a vampire. But I have no problem decorating with the shade.

What would you say is your most treasured item in your home and why?
I should say the Saarinen marble dining table that my partner and I bought shortly after moving into our first home, but truthfully it's our mattress. It cost a fortune, but I have yet to find a bed as comfortable and I stay at a lot of hotels. It was seriously worth every penny.


Photo courtesy of Kaufmann Mercantille

What is one thing you think every man needs in his home and why?
A leather tray to put keys and loose change.

Where are some of your favorite places to shop for home décor pieces?
ELTE for rugs, shopAGO for unfussy knickknacks and Inform Interiors, Design Within Reach and Scandinavian Modern for furniture.



Richard Haines
Fashion Illustrator and Street Style Blogger

How would you describe your personal style?
My personal style is very simple and straightforward. I don't want to have to think about what I'm going to wear when I get dressed -- I prefer to put my energy into my work. Years ago I worked with Perry Ellis and he wore the same thing every day -- a blue Oxford shirt and khakis. Now I know why -- it was his uniform and it simplified his life.

How do you think working in the fashion industry has influenced your decorating style?
I think the biggest influence is travel. Last year I was in Korea, Japan, Antwerp, Paris a few times, etc. The visual impact of seeing so much is a huge influence. And of course seeing books, museums, homes and shops is a great influence. The Dries van Noten shops in Paris are mind-blowing.

What would you say are the main differences between how you dress yourself and how you dress your home?
Ha! Great question. All my clothes are charcoal and navy and my home is an explosion of color. I have my art and inspiration tear sheets everywhere so it's visually a lot. Makes sense I need a clean palette for my wardrobe!



What would you say is your most treasured item in your home and why?
Oh gosh. My parents photo albums, my daughter's drawings from when she was a child. A green velvet French chair I bought at a tag sale at Doyle years ago... my books. My drawings... that's not one, I treasure a lot on my life.

What is one thing you think every man needs in his home and why?
Condoms. Cold mineral water for guests, an extra tooth brush, wireless speakers. A good coffee maker.

Where are some of your favorite places to shop for home décor pieces?
I don't buy that much -- I love to buy books and I have a private dealer I keep in touch with. I love John Derrian, Merci in Paris, a candle at the place on Christopher Street and off the beaten places in Japan.



Byron and Dexter Peart
Co-Founders and Co-Designers, WANT Les Essentiels de la Vie

How would you describe your personal style?
In our personal style, we always try to put a modern spin on the classic gentleman, often mixing tailored pieces with more casual essentials.

How do you think working in the fashion industry has influenced your decorating style?
Fashion changes so quickly; for us, dressing and decorating have always been about incorporating timeless pieces that are functional and that have a sense of permanence.

What would you say are the main differences between how you dress yourself and how you dress your home?
There isn't that much of a difference, we often shop for our homes the way we shop for ourselves. We love to purchase items while on our travels and then mix them with essential pieces. Our homes, much like our approach to style, is about balancing personal finds and classic essentials.

What would you say is your most treasured item in your home and why?
Dexter: I think for me, it would have to be our Richard Schultz 1966 outdoor collection. There is nowhere else in my house that I feel as relaxed as I do when I am sitting outside on the patio on the lounge chair. Much like Habitat 67 (where we live) the collection feels just as new and relevant today as it was in 1966.


Photo courtesy Want Apothecary

What is one thing you think every man needs in his home and why?
Every gentlemen needs a wine cellar or a good bar. This is the one thing that entertaining at home has taught me, there is nothing that sets the stage for a great evening like great conversation and good wine.

Where are some of your favorite places to shop for home décor pieces?
We love to discover new shops when we are traveling, but our go to shops in Canada are Klaus, or Avenue Road in Toronto, and Matter Matter or Future Perfect in New York.

HONEYMOON IN VEGAS ** out of ****
THE WOODSMAN ***
CONSTELLATIONS ** 1/2
TAYLOR MAC 1930s-1950s ** 1/2


HONEYMOON IN VEGAS ** out of ****
NEDERLANDER THEATRE

Broadway seems to have lost the art of out of town tryouts, those treks to the heartland (or even Jersey) where you work out the kinks in a show, see what you've got, start trimming or adding numbers, fire and hire people and so on. It's become almost impossible, they say, thanks to YouTube and top critics hightailing it to wherever you are so they can deliver an early verdict. But it has its place and many shows, especially musicals, desperately need it. Now with the pressure to secure a house or maybe with the tantalizing prospect of a Tony when no big show has captured attention or just to save money, too many shows have abbreviated out of town tryouts or none at all.

Honeymoon In Vegas was different. It played at the Papermill Playhouse in October of 2013, a venue that has proven its ability to offer an excellent showcase for new shows with their eye on Broadway. Thanks to a friendly review from the only outlet that matters (the Grey Lady, natch), investors lined up to take this show to Broadway. Fifteen months later, here it is!

You can read my earlier review right here and you might as well: very little has changed. Really? Did they think the show was that close to perfect? Fifteen months and no significant reworking of the plot or addition of key new songs or recasting or anything?

It's harmless fun and I was rooting for it, but a second viewing exhausts what little enthusiam I mustered, especially when they couldn't be bothered to do much more than spruce it up here and there. Here's a montage of this would-be throwback to the 1950s musical (which Aladdin does much better).



The story, based on the film written by Andrew Bergman, is silly enough. A nebbishy fellow loves his gal but a curse placed on him by an overbearing mother freezes him with fright whenever marriage looms. She loses patience and they impulsively head to Vegas to do the deed. That's when a tough gangster/card sharp spots the gal: she's a dead ringer for his late, beloved wife. He cheats our hero in cards and saddles the guy with nearly $60,000 in debt, forcing him to suggest his gal "hang out" with the gangster. In revenge for even suggesting such a thing -- and surprised by the thug's charm -- she does just that, flying off with him to Hawaii. Our hero goes off in pursuit and finally catches up with her back in Vegas, making a dramatic splash to win her back. If you've seen the movie or just the ads for it, you know this somehow involves a troupe of Flying Elvises. Hey, it's Vegas.

The show has been touched up here and there. The sets are a little better, thanks mostly to some detailed projections. But the grey and wood screens that dominate the color palette don't exactly scream Vegas and prove generic and tiresome when seen in Sin City and Hawaii and airport lounges (about the only place they actually belong). The mild but unpleasant racism of some minor characters (Asian tourists who used to goggle at showgirls and a Hawaiian gals pidgin English) have thankfully been eliminated. But the songs, the staging, the basic structure of the show remain sadly identical to that out of town tryout long ago.

Rob McClure is a Tony nominee for Chaplin and has a certain nebbishy, Everyman appeal. But I'm not sure about his star power and both he and Brynn O'Malley have such generic characters to play, it's hard to care for them much at all. It doesn't help that they're separated for virtually the entire second act. (He's trying to get her back, but since she doesn't know this or see him trying, it doesn't have much impact.) Tony Danza is an amiable presence but remains entirely wrong for the role of a menacing gangster we might actually fear the way you instinctively worry James Caan in the movie might have meanness in him. Danza is a pussycat by nature and it makes his villain pretty toothless. He's also very thin of voice, sounding even less sure of himself this time around.

They get most everything wrong here, right down to saving pennies by NOT having O'Malley toss the bouquet she's clutching into the audience at the end of the show. Jason Robert Brown delivered two good songs here and few okay ones. David Josefsberg has fun as a Vegas crooner and nails "When You Say Vegas," which should be an amusing aside but unfortunately is the ring-a-ding-ding highlight of Act One. And Danza -- a musical theater fan and cabaret performer -- surely has dreamt of being in an original Broadway show all his life. Here Brown gives him the treat of "You Made The Wait Worthwhile." It's an act two number with a very modest range written right in his sweet spot. Danza gets to strum a ukulele and sing this little ditty that genuinely sounds like a throwback to some 1930s gem. It's the show's best number by a mile, the only one with any emotional impact and Danza -- and the audience -- have at least one happy memory to share.


THE WOODSMAN ***
59 E 59

It's not often you get a second chance to see a smaller show that came and went. Luckily, The Woodsman has returned and anyone with affection for puppetry, fairy tales and clever pure theater should jump. It explores the world of L. Frank Baum by telling the origin story of the Tin Woodman. And how it's told is what makes this show special. Writer, co-director and star James Ortiz has an introductory narration setting the stage for the Land of Oz and the fearful lives of the Munchkins who reside there under the reign of evil witches.

But after that brief section, the show is virtually wordless. The story is told with a troupe of actors and some simple but effective theatrical flourishes. Think Cheek By Jowl or Peter and the Starcatcher. Who needs elaborate effects when a few actors holding up branches can let you believe immediately in a menacing forest that grabs and clutches at anyone who dares to pass through? Various characters are brought to life either by actors or puppetry, especially a menacing creature and the show's highpoint, an aged but frightening Wicked Witch of the East.



The storytelling on display is charming but this is not for little children. As told in The Tin Woodman Of Oz, our hero begins as a man but his axe is cursed and it slowly dismembers him limb by limb (which he replaces with a tin appendage) until there's nothing left and he can't love the woman of his dreams anymore. Along with the witch, this slow dissolve into mechanical man is handled beautifully. (Ortiz also did the set design and puppetry.)

Despite his guiding hand on the show, Ortiz wasn't even my favorite actor on stage. I much preferred Eliza Simpson as the Woodsman's true love, Will Gallacher and Laura Nordvig as our hero's parents and Alex J. Gould caught my eye in various parts. This just proves Ortiz is smart enough to surround himself with talent.

At one hour, the show is just the right length. There's a little repetition, with the parent's story proving too similar in its telling to the romance of the Woodsman and his heroine. The score by onstage performer Edward W. Hardy is excellent though a song towards the end is a little discordant and less successfully sung (or arranged?) than others. This is all to say that Strangemen & Co. -- the troupe Ortiz is a co-artistic director of -- is very talented and fresh. Excitingly, they should improve and grow by leaps and bounds as they continue to mount works. Fans of Pigpen Theatre Co. and original theater in general take note.


CONSTELLATIONS ** 1/2
MANHATTAN THEATRE CLUB AT SAMUEL J FRIEDMAN THEATRE


Constellations is not the show it thinks that it is. Luckily, it has two engaging actors with chemistry and charm to burn. Jake Gyllenhaal and Ruth Wilson make the evening an easy pleasure, reveling in the actor catnip of getting to play various bits of dialogue over and over again in different styles: one time angry, another time sad and so on. Go to appreciate their talent. But don't be surprised to find that Nick Payne's play is ultimately exhausting and confusing.

The set-up is simple enough. We watch two people meet cute at a BBQ in England. The woman Marianne goofily talks about how impossible it is to lick one's elbow, which is sad, she says, because if you can lick your elbow you'll live forever. The man Roland reacts in varying ways to this: sometimes he shuts her down. Then the lights flash and the scene begins again and he gently makes clear he's in a relationship or just getting out of a relationship or he gamely starts to try and lick his own elbow. In most of these varying outcomes, they do not seem likely to start dating, but one or two seem to do the trick.

Later we learn Marianne works in science and her explanation of what she actually does involving astronomy and sorting through the noise of space to determine patterns and cull information about the stars etc. can go over Roland's head or confuse him or turn him on. And finally, as visions of Groundhog Day appear, Marianne clarifies exactly what is going on. It's the idea of the multiverse, that idea that every action you take (or don't take, which is itself an action) creates its own reality, its own timeline of events. In one reality you marry the girl of your dreams, in another you become a rock star rather than an accountant with dreams of music frustrated), in another you move to Denver rather than staying in your hometown. All these realities exist at the same time parallel to one another. They're not all dramatically different from one another but they do exist.

Constellations will constantly explore the idea of a multiverse, the many realities where a romance can go in different directions or never take place at all. Think Michael Frayn or Tom Stoppard and you'll have an idea of the heady marriage Payne wanted to make between earthy love and high-minded theory.



Count me in! Multiverses are right up the alley of someone like me who devoured sci-fi as a kid and seen it explored in works by Italo Calvino and Borges and Millhauser and countless others. Are you confused? Think of it this way: in one reality you have cereal for breakfast, in another you have oatmeal and in yet another you skip breakfast entirely but this prompts you to go to lunch earlier than usual where you accidentally meet the love of your life. Get it? Now not every choice will have dramatic impact. (Though if everyone suddenly begins to favor oatmeal over cereal maybe yet another family farm goes out of business and the angry son in that family becomes a new Hitler! So you never know.)

Unfortunately, this show never actually explores the idea of a multiverse or a multiplicity of possibilities in any relationship. It thinks it does but in fact Constellations is more akin to the acting exercise found in the brilliant piece Sure Thing by David Ives. In that short work, a man and a woman in a cafe meet and every time one of them fumbles or says the wrong thing, the action resets and they get another chance until finally at the end they romantically click. It's great fun. For example, in many realities, Roland and Marianne date, move in together and one of them cheats on the other. We see this again and again: in one variation, Marianne tells him rather abruptly, in another she tells him angrily, in a third she's sad, in a fourth he tells her that he's cheated and so on. But except in the most banal and uninteresting manner, these aren't really multiple realities. In each of them, one has cheated on the other and they're sure to break up. How they get there may be mildly different but the end result is the same. The fact that the news was broken angrily or sadly may be "different" but it's not different in a way that's terribly revealing. Payne does this again and again.

Similarly, the show explores perhaps unintentionally another trope of sci-fi and fantasy: that's the story of true love which triumphs in any multiverse whatever obstacle may be placed in its path. Some lovers are simply meant to be together and will be in one way or another (perhaps tragically or happily but always memorably) no matter what. The show unintentionally takes this point of view -- which is rather opposite to the idea of multiverses where so many paths coexist at the same time -- because no matter what happens we sense the show is gonna make damn sure these two get together. MILD SPOILER ALERT There's also a looming illness, which is tipped quite early in the show, so it's not much of a spoiler to mention. This tragedy of a short life cuts across most of the possibilities we're shown, another example where the show isn't sure of what it hopes to do. END OF SPOILER.

The confusion extends to the production overseen by director Michael Longhurst. The scenic and costume design is by Tom Scutt, with lighting by Lee Curran and sound design by David McSeveney. It's no surprise they'd be confused about what to do since the play is muddled itself. The stage is bare with a striking clutch of white balloon-like bulbs in a clump above, tails floating down a bit. In the first scene, one bulb lights up as if to indicate one possibility. When their first meet collapses, the scene resets and another bulb lights up. Okay, but this is soon dropped. Later neurons fire off in the cluster of bulbs, akin to the brain waves that might be going akimbo in one character's head. This too is dropped. Towards the finale, actual white balloons drift down at one sad moment, like tears or rain. It's a brief arresting image. But then a minute later a few more balloons drift down. And a few minutes later a handful of balloons again float down. it feels so random you begin to wonder if the last few were stuck in the rafters and just got loose. To top it off, all the balloons go multi-colored at the finale in a sort of rude counter to one character's expressed taste in memorial celebrations -- no balloons, they insist. Why would the show ignore this?

Again, Payne and the show are blessed to have fresh Emmy winner Wilson (for The Affair) and fresh Oscar-snubbed Gyllenhaal (for Nightcrawler, but being snubbed is a grand tradition so he should embrace it). The structure and overall ideas of Constellations may be awfully muddled but scene to scene it's fun. Again, we see Roland propose to Marianne in various ways; again, this isn't a terribly interesting exploration of multiverses but it is fun and the emotional high point of the show as Gyllenhaal finally blurts out his love. You'd be happy to go through endless variations on love as long as these two are involved.

TAYLOR MAC A 24 DECADE HISTORY OF POPULAR MUSIC: 1930s-1950s (DRESS REHEARSAL) ** 1/2
NEW YORK LIVE ARTS

This is my first experience of Taylor Mac (one doesn't just see Taylor Mac) and I'm at a bit of a loss. He's in the midst of a two year process developing a wildly ambitious 24 hour event which will be dubbed A 24 Decade History Of Popular Music. Each hour will be devoted to one decade, leaping from the 1700s to the future. In a flip on what Talking Heads did in their classic concert film, Mac says he'll begin with 24 musicians on stage and one will leave each hour until it's winnowed down to one for the finale. (In Stop Making Sense, the show began with Byrne alone on the stage and they slowly added musicians until the raucous finale.)

You can expect LOTS of audience participation (Mac wants to build up a sense of community in the audience even as the literally 24 hour performance wears them down). There will be showers on stage, drag queens, and a cast of thousands apparently. As one of the most acclaimed performers of recent years, Mac is swinging for the fences with a show so long you could watch Einstein On The Beach almost five times or Wagner's The Ring Cycle twice in the time it will take to perform. Why not? The venue lucky enough to get it -- St. Ann's Warehouse? BAM? Lincoln Center -- will definitely have a happening on their hands and one of the signal events of 2016.

What we saw at New York Live Arts was unquestionably a rough draft of three hours of that event, covering the 1930s to the 1950s. A dress rehearsal Mac called it and that it was in every sense of the word. The show ran three and a half hours and many anecdotes were rambling and unfocused as Mac introduced one song or concept or spun out the many audience moments (such as getting everyone to come on stage and sit on the floor or forcing all the white people to flee to the suburbs -- the side aisles -- while the people of color were invited to camp out in the center seats for a few songs). He forgot the words once or twice (he's got a hell of a lot of songs to learn!) and some arrangements were nailed down better than others. It left you both intrigued about what the final show might look like and a little exhausted at the same time.

This is a performance from Chicago in October of 2013 from An Abridged Concert of the History of Political Popular Music. It's in the same vein as his current project but has no connection; it's just to give you a taste of the Taylor Mac experience.



An unquestioned highlight were the decade-specific costumes by Machine Dazzle (aka Matthew Flower). Sequins pop up in the 1930s because machines finally existed to make them practical in clothing, but they were still too expensive for all but the wealthy...or Taylor Mac of course. Similar attention to detail is a hallmark of MD, whose suburban skirt was a highlight of the 1950s. The band was solid throughout, especially Viva Deconcini on electric guitar and the handsome musical director, pianist and background singer Matt Ray.

Perhaps it's just Taylor Mac's style, but what gives me pause is the fact that so few of the actual musical performances proved memorable. Too many were jokey, ironic performances of songs. One could practically see the quotes around every line to indicate a certain distance whether Mac was vamping up "Brother Can You Spare A Dime?" or joshing around on "Sway." This may simply be a factor to the early days nature of the project. Clearly the show is Mac's gay white boy in suburbia perspective on popular music. But "Some Day My Prince Will Come" and "Hot Nuts" and "The Trolley Song" and "Where The Boys Are" AND "Secret Love" is one winking gay anthem (or five) too many. They've all been done a thousand times before in a gay context and Mac should either ditch them or come up with an arrangement or performance that brings something new to them or at least gives them the dignity of a straightforward performance (pun intended) rather than seeming to think their mere inclusion is amusing.

This section has 36 songs but too many other choices are uninspired. "Mockingbird Hill" and "The Stripper" to mock suburbia again prove too easy choices. One doesn't want three dozen oddball obscurities but still. Even less obvious choices don't work here. Mac's monologue on growing up queer in suburbia was mostly unfocused and undeveloped and didn't remotely make the case for segueing into the great Johnny Cash number "Folsom Prison Blues," which doesn't really equate with a gay boy's feeling of being trapped on any level. (The criminal in the song actually IS guilty and deserves imprisonment and knows it. Don't tell me the boy feels the same way; it still doesn't really work because we all know the boy would be wrong.)

Perhaps it's the context. Maybe earlier decades won't prove so full of schtick. Nonetheless, Amber Gray does an excellent version of Billie Holiday's "Strange Fruit," which is no easy task. Her performance is elegant in its slow build and intensity without every straying into histrionics. But given the rest of the three hours, it also feels dramatically out of place. Little else is remotely that serious. More often, Mac is constructing elaborate and flimsy "contexts" for numbers, like spending much of the 1940s with the idea that he's a performance in a Nazi concentration or death camp, where many German cabaret performers were imprisoned and did in fact put on shows. (Maybe this should be a specific show in its own right.) Anyway, Mac gets a few laughs by dragging audience members on stage, putting on sequin Nazi armbands on them and then having two women play the horses while they ride in a carriage throughout the German countryside as Mac sings the Oklahoma gem "The Surrey With the Fringe On Top." Whew! That's a long way to go for a few giggles and it doesn't ever really jell in any way, typical of so many of his ideas. But again, these are ideas, rough sketches and presumably (hopefully) he's working through many ideas, tossing out the ones that don't work and zeroing in on the ones that do. I hope there's a lot less audience participation because know it seems to take place after every other song. You don't feel like a community so much as an unpaid extra.

And yet, and yet. At times Mac's context is pointed and sharp and effective. At times the audience participation feels simple and right, rather than strained and over-elaborate. At times the performances are heartfelt or funny rather than just hopped up. Mac hit a beautiful stretch almost precisely in the middle of the show. His medley of "Don't Fence Me In" and the little-known "Why Did I Ever Leave Wyoming" is funny and fierce, offering up a tidy dig at conservatives for loving the song ("They don't want to be fenced in," Mac says at one point, " but they don't mind fencing other people in!") while at the same time pairing a very well known song with an obscure one and elevating both thanks to stringing them together. (He does a similarly successful thing at the finale, merging the melody of "Peter Gunn Theme" with the folk classic "Turn! Turn! Turn!").

That's followed by a very good performance of "Soliloquy" from Carousel and then a perhaps apocryphal but still touching story surrounding "You Are My Sunshine," which Mac follows with asking the audience to sing it along with him, first with the band, then with just him and finally the audience alone. Pete Seeger would be proud because that's one great way to build a sense of community. Then the show's peak, a haunting "Ghost Riders In The Sky" where the arrangement by Ray, the lighting, the excellent guitar work by Deconcini and a superlative vocal by Mac. He caps that by declaiming the Auden poem "A Walk After Dark."

Why does this section work so well? First most of the songs are performed without frantically vamping them up with humor. Secondly, the pairing of known and unknown tunes is well considered. the arrangements are great. The monologues surrounding the tunes are more focused and thought out and the poem comes at just the right moment in the show. There's every reason to believe the 24 hour extravaganza to be will come into sharp focus just like this vivid section. Mac is mounting various sections and surely refining and working on it, becoming more sure about what he's doing as he discovers exactly what he has so far. It can happen. It will happen. But it's going to take a lot of work.


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Thanks for reading. Michael Giltz is the founder and CEO of the forthcoming website BookFilter, a book lover's best friend. It's a website that lets you browse for books online the way you do in a physical bookstore, provides comprehensive info on new releases every week in every category and offers passionate personal recommendations every step of the way. It's like a fall book preview or holiday gift guide -- but every week in every category. He's also the cohost of Showbiz Sandbox, a weekly pop culture podcast that reveals the industry take on entertainment news of the day and features top journalists and opinion makers as guests. It's available for free on iTunes. Visit Michael Giltz at his website and his daily blog. Download his podcast of celebrity interviews and his radio show, also called Popsurfing and also available for free on iTunes.

Note: Michael Giltz is provided with free tickets to shows with the understanding that he will be writing a review. All productions are in New York City unless otherwise indicated.

If you heard that a play was about illness, death, and dying you would not be inclined to think comedy. But joining the two themes is possible. When done artfully, the comedic treatment can draw the audience into the maelstrom of otherwise taboo and painful issues. Playwright Ronald Ribman's 1977 Broadway production of Cold Storage, starring Martin Balsam and Len Cariou, which was set in a cancer ward, accomplished that improbable coupling of catastrophic illness and comedy. The play received a Drama Critics award. Actor Richmond Shepard later appeared in a Los Angeles production of Cold Storage, which also won an award. In 2008, Shepard resurrected his role in an off-Broadway revival of the play.

Perhaps Shepard's experiences with Cold Storage is what prompted him to direct Brenda Shoshanna's new play, Looking for Parcifal. Shoshanna, an award-winning playwright, is also a psychologist and the author of several books about illness, coping with crises, and the spiritual practice of Zen Buddhism. In the '80s she was playwright-in-residence at the Jewish Repertory Theater and the Ensemble Studio Theater.

After a ten-year hiatus since her last play, Shoshanna has written a tightly crafted new play, a provocative and entertaining farcical treatment of death and dying steeped in a family's search for a missing member. Parcifal's mother, sister, and brother have been told he is at Dr. Decroy's hospice in room 1033. But is he? The room is empty. Is Parcifal dead or alive? Does he even exist? Confusing messages from the quirky Dr. Decroy and Parcifal's sexy nurse challenge reality and add to the Kafkaesque setting.

Shoshanna captures the full range of coping mechanisms evoked by death, loss, and grief: fear, denial, regret, blame, wishful thinking, false memories, and disturbing questions about the meaning of life and the role of religion. All these issues emerge from the wacky interactions among the family members and with the hospice staff.

Richmond Shepard's skillful direction eases the audience into examining their own feelings and fears about death and their recognition that dying is inevitable for all of us. Dr. Decroy's observation that life is a pre-death experience prompts the audience to reflect on the importance of celebrating life to its fullest.

The cast of Dan Burkharth, Jonathan Hedrickson, Stacey Hull, Lisa Landino, Vanna Pilgrim, Nate Steinwachs, and Marcus Watson are outstanding in sustaining the alternation of pain and comedy. Stacey Hull, as the vivacious nurse, delivers a particularly appealing and memorable performance.

Looking for Parcifal premiered at the Gene Frankel Theatre, 24 Bond Street in NYC, on January 20, 2015. It will run until January 31st.

Bernard Starr, PhD is a psychologist, journalist, and professor emeritus at the City University of New York, Brooklyn College. His latest book is "Jesus, Jews, and Anti-Semitism in Art:.How Renaissance Art Erased Jesus' Jewish Identity and How Today's Artists Are Restoring It."

Artist: Unfathomed Abyss
Album: Arisen Upon Oblivion
Released: October 2014
Reviewed by: Christopher Zoukis and Randy Radic

Black metal music is usually grouped under the umbrella heading of heavy metal music, with the caveat that black metal is as a "radical" subdivision of the genre. It is characterized by wailing guitars, screaming vocals, and rapid cadence. Heavy make-up, also known as "corpse paint," is favored by practitioners of black metal. It's sometimes referred to as "Gothic death metal." For those never exposed to it, try to imagine the Deftones or possibly Tool amped up on crystal meth -- then hit fast-forward. That will give potential listeners some idea of what to expect. Or think of it this way: death metal sounds the way Marilyn Manson looks.

The band under discussion here is Unfathomed Abyss, which is basically one person, Kevin Price, who does it all: bass, guitars, vocals, arrangements, engineering, and album artwork. The exception on the album are the drums, performed by Kevin Talley, drummer for Daath; he's without equal when it comes to sheer speed. Talley is nothing short of blazing on this album, although it's sometimes difficult to discern exactly what he's doing underneath the sheer sonic punch of the arrangements, which alternate between severely layered motifs and the sublimely simple chords of a single piano or synthesizer.

The overall theme of the latest album, Arisen Upon Oblivion, is apocalyptic horror of Biblical proportions. Imagine if the worst parts of the latter chapters of the book of Revelation occurred at the creation of the universe, rather than at Armageddon. Death, violence, hatred, love, and light all mingled together in one vast, chaotic mess. Obviously, Price is trying to articulate the almost ecstatic pain of the transitory nature of human life. His vocalizations resemble snarling howls more than conventional lyrics. It's as if his voice fails to translate into words the emotions he feels. He is reduced to mutterings and groaning that, even though seemingly without meaning, convey the passion whirling like a hurricane in his mind.

The opening track, called "To Unequal the Balance of the Cosmos," eats up 14 minutes. The song starts off with wailing, distorted guitars that subside into a soft piano akin to country club bar music. Before long, the garbled guitars soar into their dissonant dance once again. In its entirety, the song smacks of a 1930s Bella Lugosi movie soundtrack; it's Gothic music on steroids and cocaine.

The best track and the one that comes closest to true Black Metal is "To Nothing." Probably because the song more closely approaches to what most people think of as "music." It's less impenetrable, not quite as ambitious in its complexity, and not nearly as lavish in its twelve-note dissonance. In short, it's not as disturbing as the rest of the songs. Of course, it is assumed that Price's overall goal is to evoke perturbation, so in that sense, "To Nothing" might be perceived as anemic as regards the album's intention.

All in all, Arisen Upon Oblivion delivers beaucoup gloom and doom, but perhaps not enough heavy metal for die-hard Black Metal aficionados. Still, Price is to be congratulated on the ambition of his project. With just a little more rock 'n' roll, and a little less emphasis on the "black" of Black Metal, he'd have nailed it.

For the fifth time, Art Stage Singapore takes place at the Marina Bay Sands Expo and Convention Centre in Singapore. The art fair is known for its special focus on Southeast Asian art scenes (Indonesia, the Philippines, Malaysia, Singapore, Thailand, Vietnam, Cambodia, Laos and Myanmar).

This year, more than 170 galleries from Asian and Western countries take part in Art Stage Singapore. Apart from the main gallery sector, the fair features the Southeast Asia Platform exhibition; special exhibitions for Russia, Malaysia, Korea, and Modern Art; a new sector called Video Stage; and many performances, talks and tours. This video provides you with a walkthrough of Art Stage Singapore during the Vernissage of the fair.



For more videos covering contemporary art and architecture go to VernissageTV.

From the great dinosaurs of the past to the birds and mammals who have vanished in our era, are vast numbers of animals have gone extinct, never to be seen again. And while large-scale planetary upheavals caused most of prehistory's extinctions, man has been the primary culprit during the current 12-million-year-old Holocene Era. Human myopia and inattention have caused many of these recent disappearances, and continue to endanger surviving species.

In "Cari Estinti," or "Dearly Departed" -- a new book from the Kalandraka publishing house -- author and illustrator Arianna Papini calls our attention to this important problem in her own way.

Papini, a Florence native with over 70 books and numerous awards to her name, uses whimsical drawings to tell the stories of twenty extinct animals, from their origins to their disappearances.

She imagines that those twenty animals continue to look down from a place above us where they can finally live in peace, safe from war and other dangers. Animals like the silent and alluring Saudi Gazelle (Gazella saudiya), which was exterminated by hunters and now "grazes in the clouds and gallops upwind."



Many of them lived in the southern seas, others on northern coasts, and still others on the planet's most remote islands. They will never again soar through our skies, and they no longer go loping through our fields and savannas. Like the white lion (Panthers leo krugeri), "too visible even from afar," who for centuries was so legendary that his color came to symbolize the goodness of animal creation.



Nor will we ever again see the Visayan warty pig (Sus cebifrons).



Nor the Javan tiger (Panthera tigris sondaica), which lived on its Indonesian island namesake.



And not the half-zebra, half-horse quagga, named for the sound it made.

Many of them will never return to swim in our rivers and oceans, like the baiji (Lipotes vexillifer), a freshwater dolphin from China's Yangtze River who now "gives back to the world by laughing at the sky."



Season after season they disappear, often all that remains of them is an odd name: the ivory-billed woodpecker, the Tecopa pupfish (from the Mojave desert), the dodo (a wingless bird too ungainly to fly), the Guadelope amazon, and so many others.

Thanks to Papini and her drawings, these animals return to life at least on these pages, each of which asks that we not forget, and that we carry on without continuing to make the same mistakes.

This post originally appeared on HuffPost Italy and was translated into English.

Hema Upadhyay, Universe Revolves on (XV), 2008. Courtesy of Chemould Prescott Road, Mumbai.

Held in the spectacular, ark-like Marina Bay Sands Expo and Convention Centre building, Art Stage Singapore (January 22-25, 2015) brings artists, collectors, dealers and art professionals from all around Southeast Asia and the world to this geographically small but economically powerful island nation. Coinciding with the fair, Singapore Art Week (January 17-25) brings almost 100 special events to the city at large, from special exhibitions and performances, to film screenings, art tours and talks. Now in its fifth year, the celebrated Asian art fair and its attendant events all around the city focus international attention to Singapore as a hub and an arena to discover art from all over Southeast Asia.

Art Stage Singapore differentiates itself from other international contemporary art fairs by emphasizing its regional roots and Asian identity, with 75 percent of participating galleries hailing from the Asia Pacific region. As Founder and Fair Director Lorenzo Rudolf notes, "Art Stage Singapore has an important role to play in helping to build the eco-system to support contemporary art from the region." As such, the fair views its role as more than a sales platform, but as an opportunity to highlight and increase understanding of Southeast Asian contemporary art, describing itself as "a temporary museum" offering special curated exhibitions and performances that feature Asian artists. This year includes an expansive curated exhibition of contemporary Southeast Asian art by emerging-to-mid-career artists, smaller special exhibitions of Malaysian, Korean and Russian art, large-scale works by Singaporean and Asian artists, and, new this year, a dedicated space for video works.

   

Timothy Hyunsoo Lee, 296.35, 2013. Courtesy of Sabrina Amrani Gallery, Madrid.

Park Seo-bo, Ecriture No. 080209, 2008. Courtesy of Galerie Perrotin, Paris/Hong Kong/New York.

Hiroshi Senju, Waterfall, 2012. Courtesy of Sundaram Tagore Gallery, Hong Kong/New York/Singapore.

As with any art fair, the main actors at Art Stage Singapore are the gallery exhibitors. This year, highlights include ARNDT, Berlin/Singapore, celebrating their 20th anniversary (booth E13); Hema Upadhyay's mixed-media works at Chemould Prescott Road, Mumbai (booth A5); Timothy Hyunsoo Lee's large-scale drawings at Sabrina Amrani Gallery, Madrid (booth H2); Park Seo-bo minimal paintings at Galerie Perrotin, Paris/Hong Kong/New York (booth C11); and Hiroshi Senju's enormous yet exquisite paintings made of natural pigments on Japanese mulberry paper, presented by Sundaram Tagore Gallery, Hong Kong/New York/Singapore (booth A7).

Suzann Victor, Contours of a Rich Manoeuvre Series, 2006. Courtesy of Andreas Kepplinger.

Paresh Maity, Mystic Abode, 2014. Courtesy of Linda Gallery, Beijing/Jakarta/Singapore.​

Punctuating the fair, various large-scale installations loom throughout the exhibition hall and beyond, into the interior of the Marina Bay Sands Centre. Among them, look for Suzann Victor's series of swinging chandeliers just as you enter the fair's main aisle, a new work by Gilbert & George near the VIP lounge (keep an eye out for the artist duo, as it's reported that they'll be in attendance), and a sound installation by Zulkifle Mahmod on the mezzanine. On level one of the exhibition center, you'll encounter Mystic Abode (2014) by Paresh Maity: a house structure, about four meters tall, composed of over 8,000 brass bells.

Vincent Leong, Kenapamu, Malaysia?, 2014. Courtesy of the artist and Silverlens, Manila/Singapore.

Nyein Chan Su, The Shambles, 2012. Courtesy of the artist and Intersections, Singapore.​

Choy Ka Fai, De Groot Collection From Lan Fang chronicles (2009 - 2012), 2012. Courtesy of the artist and Yeo Workshop, Singapore.​

At one end of the fair's hall, a 1,000-square-meter space is given over to Southeast Asia Platform, a museum-quality exhibition of contemporary Southeast Asian art curated by emerging Singaporean curator Khim Ong. Entitled Eagles Fly, Sheep Flock - Biographical Imprints: Artistic Practices in Southeast Asia, the exhibition assembles the work of 32 emerging and mid-career artists from the region working in a diverse range of media and practices. While all of the works are for sale by the artists' respective galleries, this section of Art Stage Singapore not only offers a reprieve from the commercial fair atmosphere, but allows for a deeper, sustained look at emerging talents from the region. Many of the works invoke personal reflections on the political and social histories of Asia, highlights including a two-part installation by Thai artist Nipan Oranniwesna, photography by Malaysian artist Vincent Leong, performative "political painting" and video works by Nyein Chan Su of Myanmar, and poetry-inspired performance-lectures by Singaporean artist Choy Ka Fai (performed on Thursday at 4pm, Saturday at 5pm, and Sunday at 2pm).

Andre Masson, La Mort d'Holopherne, 1959. Courtesy of DIE GALERIE, Frankfurt, and MF - Toninelli Art Moderne, Monaco.

AES+F, A/Jegoria Sacra, Still #1-30, 2011. Courtesy of Multimedia Art Museum, Moscow, and Triumph Gallery, Moscow.

Chae Won Kim, DEEP SIMPLICITY, 2014. Courtesy of the artist.

Throughout the fair, visitors will encounter various smaller special exhibitions, including a special presentation of the work of French cubist and surrealist André Masson, an exhibit of two videos from The Liminal Space Trilogy by Russian collective AES + F Group, and a curated exhibition of four young Korean artists, Che One Joon, Kang Suki Seokyeong, Chae Won Kim, and Jina Park. Along the hall at the front of the fair, a selection of figurative painting by 16 young Malaysian painters will be on display, and along one end of the exposition hall, you can spend some time with the new element of this year's fair, Video Stage, which will present a history of video art--from Nam June Paik video sculptures to Araya Rasdjarmrearnsook's videos of Thai farmers contemplating works of the Western canon--curated by artist Paul Greenaway, gallerist Chi-Wen Huang and museum director Ute Meta Bauer.

Yang Fudong, production shot of The Fifth Night (II) Rehearsal, 2010. Courtesy of the artist. Photo: ShanghART Gallery.

And that's just a sample of what's on view at the fair itself. There's more that Singapore has to offer, beyond the walls of the Marina Bay Sands resort. The Singapore Art Week website outlines the myriad events in the city at large, from museum exhibitions to outdoor interactive art. Coinciding with Singapore Art Week, two sponsored art awards for Southeast Asian contemporary art promise to introduce new talent to the international art world, including the Asia Pacific Breweries (APB) Foundation-sponsored Signature Art Prize exhibition at the Singapore Museum of Art, and the Prudential Eye Awards for Contemporary Asian Art, held at the ArtScience Museum near the fair. Displays of public art abound, from the Utopia Interactive Arts Festival along the Boat Quay Promenade on the downtown waterfront, to DRIVE, a public art festival on the grounds of the Gillman Barracks. The Gillman Barracks complex, Singapore's contemporary arts enclave, also hosts the NTU Centre for Contemporary Art Singapore, which is currently showing a must-see exhibition by acclaimed Chinese filmmaker Yang Fudong. And Friday evening the Gillman Barracks is the site of Art After Dark, an outdoor party starting from 7pm and going till late, featuring live music performances, food and drink pop-ups--all free to the public.

See you in Singapore!

Last September I brought my film Coral the Ocean Dome to Tianjin, this year in Davos I am presenting "Evolution of Fearlessness" an immersive, interactive artwork that responds to touch.

To experience the work you first read the stories of 10 women who are primarily political refugees now residing in Australia. The stories of these women verge from the horrendous to the terribly sad. Most have experienced extreme acts of violence and worse. But the work is not about what has happened to the women, it is about who they have become. After reading their stories the viewer approaches a doorway in a darkened room and places a hand on the glass portal. This action causes the activation of a life-sized video of one of the women who steps forward and places her hand on your hand. The work creates a moment of video touch. What you experience from looking into these women's eyes is not their devastation, but rather and perhaps surprisingly, their love.

The search for fearless women

When I went looking for the women to film for the work, I knew of one woman, a friend, with the quality that, for the sake of the work, I called "fearlessness" but that I also sometimes referred to as "resilience." Neither of these words completely encompasses what I found, but I have never found the right word for the quality I recognize in all these women. I sometimes used to refer to resilience in coral as a metaphor to help me explain what I was looking for, so let me say what I mean by that.

Some coral has the ability to absorb light at one wavelength and to re-emit it at another. This form of channeling light is called coral fluorescence. The ability for some corals to fluoresce is seen as one way they protect themselves from increasing exposure to light and heat. Not all corals fluoresce but it appears that those that are able to are better surviving the bleaching events that lead to mass coral death. Bleaching happens when coral becomes stressed. Fluorescing corals absorb what is stressful, the increased light, and they transform it. They channel the light into a different wavelength and they re-emit it as a fluorescing color. In other words, they shine.

That was my metaphor for the women I was seeking in the "Evolution of Fearlessness". Not just women who had experienced extreme trauma but those who had somehow managed to transform that trauma. I presumed that to be a rare quality but I also knew that I had seen it. What I recognize now in the women I filmed is what I call a heightened humanity. Their exposure to the worst in human beings has resulted somehow in a more profound love of humanity coupled with a strong sense of the communal nature of human beings. Each of them has a devotion to the human family, and I am not using that phrase lightly. I mean they are devoted to its betterment and where it is weak or fragile, they try to strengthen it. That is the common trait among them.

Transforming the negative into something positive

In that way their stories are interchangeable. Which is why they can operate as they do in the artwork -- one woman's story can be aptly represented by another woman's video presence. This is because the endings, not just the beginnings, of their stories are all versions of the same, with differences in detail but not in essence.

I don't include that detail in the artwork but if I were to give you those endings this is what they would say:

"Now she works caring for homeless men, she assists jobless immigrants, she helps torture survivors. Now she works with children who have cancer, she fashions toys for them, she sits with the newly imprisoned, the unemployed, she works with the mentally ill. Most simply, every one of the women you see in the work has built a life that allows them to help those around them who are suffering. In this way they have all been on a similar trajectory that seems to say one thing to me: they are not afraid of the pain in others."

I have wondered about that. It can't be an accident that these women who have survived so much are spending their lives in what we might think of as extremely challenging environments. Maybe they can't be shocked more than they have been by what humans can do to one another and that perspective allows them to be present to life's hard struggles. The recovery from their trauma seems to have given them the strength to look all of life in the eyes. That is what I found, though it was not what I was looking for. These women, who were not hard to find, haven't shielded themselves from the worst life can bring, they have no need to. They have not disconnected from what happened to them, rather they have somehow connected through it to those around them who are in need or in pain. But, here's the thing, where I saw pain, they just saw people. I was not searching for women whose lives were spent mending the fabric of humanity. I was searching for women who had built resilience after trauma. But when I found one, I found the other.

Strength in the face of adversity

In the UK a few years ago I did a residency at a glass center and there I spent time with fuse glass workers whose whole lives, since apprenticeship, were spent working with glass. I was making needles out of borosilicate glass, the kind of glass we use for fiber-optic cables because of its ability to refract light so powerfully that the glass itself seems to shine with the smallest amount of light. The glass rods we were working with had to be heated in the naked flame and then stretched to a sharp point so they could pierce fabric. Once this was done they looked perfect to me but the finished needles then had to be put back inside a furnace to be reheated. When I asked why this second exposure to the furnace had to happen one of the glassworkers explained: "We have really stressed the glass by what we have done to it, how we have changed its shape. We have put huge pressure on it and the danger is that the slightest thing now might cause it to shatter. Stress weakens the whole." He took me to another room to put on special goggles and there I could see the nature of the stress in the glass in the form of thin black lines -- it had changed the very structure of the glass. "We can't see stress normally," he said. "But it has made the structure weak, so even with a small amount of damage, the needle will shatter. We have to put it back into the furnace where it is exposed to more heat and it will become strong again."

I wonder about the women from "Evolution of Fearlessness" and the lives they have all thrown themselves into. None of these women are fragile. Given what they've been through, that is what is remarkable about them and that is why they are in the artwork. I hope just by experiencing them in this way some of what they have forged in themselves might be shared with us, because there is wisdom in it. Instinctively they knew what the glass artists told me. They have made themselves strong within the furnace of humanity. After all that has happened to them they are not weakened; in fact, like the coral, they shine. In a time of fear, they are my antidote.

This post is part of a series produced by The Huffington Post and The World Economic Forum to mark the Forum's Annual Meeting 2015 (in Davos-Klosters, Switzerland, Jan. 21-24). Read all the posts in the series here.

They call it "Twitch."

It's named for a beloved cat left behind long ago in Richmond, Va., before a seminal move to the West Coast.

It's an intricately constructed, handmade ukulele, painted exquisitely in a style that defies definition.


"Twitch," by Amy Crehore and Lou Reimuller

Years in the making, it's only the third in a series that the Oregon-based team of artist Amy Crehore and luthier Lou Reimuller have created for their "Tickler" collection.

"It's a carryover from my paintings with nudes and cats and monkeys, along the lines of what I've been doing all along," says Crehore, whose work has appeared in exhibitions coast-to-coast - and in the pages of The New York Times, Rolling Stone and Texas Monthly.


It was built by Reimuller, her partner. "He worked on it part time in his off hours, a step at a time to get it the way we wanted," she says. "It was a labor of love."


"Twitch," by Amy Crehore and Lou Reimuller

Indeed. Reimuller used a number of kinds of woods, some commonplace and others very obscure. There's mahogany on the sides, and another iridescent, figured mahogany on the back - one that glows and shimmers when held to the light.

The ears of the "Twitch" cat fit neatly into the shape of the headstock, a unique Crehore design. The quality maple top was thinned, so that the sound of the instrument is very responsive. And Crehore used oil paint directly onto the maple, sealing it with polyurethane varnish.

Reimuller found another wood called "stabilized green dyed figured maple" at a knife show, one that he sliced from a block and used for the end graft and the heel cap.


"Twitch," by Amy Crehore and Lou Reimuller

Not to mention the little sculpted bow tie:

"He polished the bow tie so it almost looks like malachite," she says. "The bridge is ebony. He carved it - it's a mustache bridge, that's what it is, and it's my design."

Their collaboration might not be an obsession, but it could be called something of a compulsion, if a deliberate and highly sophisticated one.


"Twitch," by Amy Crehore and Lou Reimuller

"It's like inventing something and using Lou's skills, because he's kind of a sculptor too, and I'm a painter," she says. "We're merging music, cats, instruments, and the history of art and design - and it comes out as this uke."

And a one-of-a-kind one, at that.

For more information, go here.

J. Michael Welton writes about architecture, art and design for national and international publications. He also edits and publishes a digital design magazine at www.architectsandartisans.com, where portions of this post first appeared. He is also the author of "Drawing from Practice: Architects and the Meaning of Freehand," due out from Routledge Press this spring.