Hudson River Schooled

May 21, 2015, 12:22 pm

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I had a house in Rhinebeck, upstate New York, in the '80s, before Bard College had its very own Frank Gehry theater, before there was edible food on Main Street and certainly before nearby Hudson was hip and happening. Back then, Hudson, a dilapidated whaling town, was known for two things: crack and prostitutes.

Now, the crack is gone and the only prostitutes left are the Antique Dealers. (That's a joke, guys; don't get upset.) Lately, I've heard that Hudson can compete with Chelsea as the most fashionable place to browse and buy art, so last weekend I took Amtrak up the river to see for myself.

Boarding the train at Penn Station was a macabre experience as the female voice coldly said on the PA, "There will be no service on Amtrak between here and Washington. Please see an agent for a refund." But despite the somber start, the mood lightened as we left NYC and headed up the Hudson. From my years of doing this trip, I knew to sit on the left hand side of the train so that the views of the majestic Hudson were my scenic companion for the short two-hour ride into Columbia County.

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My destination in Hudson was a solo-show at Galerie Gris featuring new work by Frank Tartaglione, an artist I've been following since I discovered him in 1979 at the Angus Whyte Gallery in DC. In the years since that show, Tartaglione became one of America's foremost decorative painters, designing and executing murals for the rich and powerful and working at the Metropolitan Museum of Art and the Reagan White House. Throughout that period he continued to paint large abstract oils--very much in a different key from his representational work--but exhibited rarely in New York. There was were solo shows on the west coast and at the Merchant Ivory Foundation, and group shows at Chelsea's George Billis Gallery and elsewhere, but this was the first time I'd seen his work in some time.

The opening didn't start until 6 so I had planned a gallery walking tour for the first part of my weekend in the country.

Walking the short blocks from the station, I saw that the crack dens had miraculously transformed into Main Street USA, straight out of Disneyland. The clapboard houses were freshly painted, the window boxes in full bloom, and the fully restored federal brick mansions screamed, "Look at me, I'm gorgeous." Even the metal whale hanging above an entrance to remind visitors of Hudson's heritage had exactly the right amount of patina to show it had been lovingly restored. I have absolutely no problem with urban renewal, especially when it's all so tastefully done (thanks again, oh great decorators.) Of course one has to wonder what happened to the poor, but that's probably another article.

With a rainbow flag waving proudly up ahead, I knew I was in the right place and started my jaunt uphill Warren Street the main drag. On my last visit to Hudson many years ago, there were two fine Galleries, The http://carriehaddadgallery.com and John Davis Galleryjj, but since then the galleries have multiplied like art-loving rabbits and now one appeared just about every fifteen feet.

The angular ceramic sculptures of Cody Hoyt at the Jeff Bailey Gallery (127 Warren Street) immediately caught my attention. Hoyt began his career as a printmaker and transferred his skill into these gravity-defying, table-size sculptures that reference origami, the machine age and cubist space. The decorations on the work are formed by layering different colors of clay, slicing them up and then laying them on the ground; it's easy to see the influence of his work as a printmaker, as he seems to be "printing" with clay.

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Perhaps the old and new Hudson do still coexist. I strolled past two older African-American gents gainfully playing chess in front of a uni-sex barbershop before I reached the J. Damiani Gallery gl(237 Warren Street) and discovered Joan Damiani's quasi realistic paintings of cars. I love the power of Carlos Alvarez's Los Angeles crashes and the crushed-car sculptures of John Chamberlain so I felt right at home. Ms. Damiani was not only the proprietor but the principle artist in the show, entitled The Road Will Never Be the Same. In addition to her cars, she displayed beautiful works of Columbia County, my favorite, a buttery painting of a house on Warren Street. The street clearly casts sensuous shadows and Damiani captured them in her simple, yet elegant painting of a store with a green topped fire hydrant balanced by a flower pot in the window. This Hopper-esque street scene seemed to sum up both the old and new Hudson in one sweet painting.

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The most expansive gallery on my visit--and the one which would fit comfortably on 19th Street in Chelsea--is the Caldwell Gallery (355 Warren Street) with its grey and white walls and black astro-turf floors. This is the only gallery I saw whose principal collection was the secondary market, paintings by artists who have passed and are now being sold again. This also made the prices at the CGH much higher than the other shops. Caldwell is a new addition to the community, having only been there a year, but what an astonishing addition. Exhibited at the front is a spectacular John Grillo, who died recently at 97. He was a student of one of my favorite artists, Hans Hofmann, and his effervescent explosions of yellows, oranges and the entire array of sunny colors eagerly recall his mentor but with a less formal brush and softer-edged geometric shapes.. My art walk was getting better and better!

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I next passed the Hudson Opera House where a student show was taking place. Hudson High School had arranged a mentoring program between its student artists and local arts professionals; by a happy coincidence, 16 year old Danny Gelles, a budding photographer, was partnered with Tartaglione, the artist I'd set out to see. After being dazzled by his architectural photograph of some sort of steel structure, (which I later found out was a section of the Eiffel Tower,) I couldn't help asking him about his mentor. "Frank," he said, "offered me a look into the abstract world."

And what a beautiful abstract world Tartaglione has created for his current show. My last stop was the afore mentioned Gallerie Gris, located at the top of Warren Street and one of the smaller galleries, but size wasn't an issue as Tartaglione's works blew the roof off. He had always circled representational elements in previous work, but here he seems to have abandoned completely any realistic conventions and instead explores expressionism with an emphasis on compositional content. In the biggest works, "Look up! Green" and "Look up! Blue," the energetic surfaces are united by rich saturated color that creates strong, structural effects. The planes of pigment build formal arrangements that feel vital to the visual experience of the work, and Tartaglione's embrace of abstraction is emotionally evocative without becoming narrative. Although I heard comments from the packed crowd about how the paintings reminded them of the towering banks of the Hudson bisected by the river, the images do not appear to refer to actual things, but respond to an observed visual world and communicate the pleasure of their own making.

These paintings are very lush, painterly and very inviting, the work of an artist at the height of his powers. Tartaglione applies mica in the final stages of creation, and the paintings glitter literally as much as they glitter figuratively. The Gallery quickly grew overcrowded, and I went in and out many times, but each time I returned I experienced a new sensation with the paintings. And each time I returned the red dots on sold works seemed to grow exponentially.

My preferences kept shifting, but my favorites were two paintings that hung opposite each other at the gallery entrance. One was an organic cardial-shaped mass divided into two sections, a darker side full of browns, greens and black, that shared the space with a lighter yellow, ash-blond field, with bursts of translucent white (hope?) floating above. Its companion piece described a more violent shape, and although the darkness was less intense, it had a more prominent space in the painting; it almost overwhelmed the lighter side, the white almost seeming to be attacked by the brushwork.

Tartaglione's works seemed to reflect the very emotions of life itself: happiness, anxiety, dare I say it, love(?) and yet a bit of darkness, a small shadow of doubt seemed to hover over the world. Sometimes that doubt was blacker than other times, but the life force, the force of the paint itself, was always triumphant.

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Thép Thavonsouk: Between Serenity and Light

May 21, 2015, 12:28 pm

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The Laotian Painter Thép Thavonsouk. Photo: Enric Boixadós.

As a young boy of four Thép Thavonsouk began drawing and sketching. In the early 1950's his father travelled frequently to Paris. He would return to Laos with presents for his young son. One of the presents was a box of watercolour paints. Thép would twist open the tubes of paint and smell them. To this day he still recalls that miraculous moment when his father watched him begin painting with brilliant colours for the first time. The paint box, a gift from his father, was a memory box like "La Madeleine" was for Marcel Proust in "Remembrance of Things Past" ("A la recherche du temps perdu").

Nocturne with Sunset. Painting: Thép Thavonsouk.

In the early 60s at the Lycée de Vientiane in Laos, the French artist and teacher Marc Leguay took Thép under his wing and introduced him to live drawing. Leguay also introduced him to the French impressionists Monet, Cézanne, Pissaro and the Spanish Picasso, Dali and Miro.

Thép graduated with a Baccalauéat and was awarded the prestigious Fulbright Scholarship to study art and international relations at St. Lawrence University in Canton, New York. His post graduate studies in Chinese painting were under the Taiwanese Masters Cheng Ming-Shien, Tien Manh-Shih, Li Pei and under Masayuki Miyata in Tokyo. At the end of the 1970's, Thép quit his jobs as a French conversation teacher at the University of Lethbridge and English as a second language teacher in a high school. He dreamt of being a full time artist and playing his flute by the ocean. He decided to leave everything behind and moved to Honolulu, Hawaii. This is the birth of his artistic soul.

Saffron Robes. Painting: Thép Thavonsouk.

His apartment in Hawaii also served as his studio. He was free to paint and create at all hours, experimenting with several mediums, techniques and styles, searching for new ideas to incorporate into his art. Thép would wake up at two in the morning to paint before going to give tennis lessons at 7 am. His first Hawaiian exhibition was with a group of Honolulu painters who, on weekends, would come from all corners of the island to hang their paintings on barbed wire at the Honolulo Zoo fence for tourists to view and buy.

"To be an artist is to be free to create without the heavy burden of fortune or fame."

His metamorphosis into a free artist encapsulated in a realistic watercolour painting of 40 butterflies with the red sun blazing in the background. It was titled "Destinés à un vol libre". The sense of freedom led the artist to discover and paint Hawaiian fauna and flora, koi fish and the ocean waves for six years.

Nocturne. Painting: Thép Thavonsouk.

"My world is a world of colors and inspirations."

Thép went to Canada in the 1980s where he worked for a federal government agency helping immigrants from many countries to learn English. Having discovered butterflies free flight in Hawaii, Thép began to express the themes of solitude and peace in his work. He began to examine his soul and the world around him. He created art with the deep attachment to the earth and its seasons - the light, the water, the clouds, the mist and fog and the monsoon rain. Images of loneliness and strength made their appearance in Thép´s art in the late 1980s. Thép was drawn to his birthplace Laos. He travelled back to visit his mother. The monsoon rain, the fog and the mist from the Mekong River and the flow of monks´ robes became themes of his paintings.

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Saffron Robes in purple sky. Painting: Thép Thavonsouk.

"My feelings are leaning more and more toward the elements. My work is not sentimental. I do not want my work to depict something that tells the whole story or speaks to a well-defined narrative."

Today his art speaks to modernity and tradition with equal dedication. It shows a deep understanding of both Asian and Western history and visual cultures. He found a way to incorporate these into his work.
Thép´s art has been collected by corporations and individuals in 5 continents and is shown in permanent collections at the Glenbow Museum in Calgary, Canada and the Singapore Museum in Singapore.

"Even though I have had many creative and international opportunities open to me, I knew deep inside these art and painting were my passions. It is a good thing I let my passions prevail, as the emotion, intensity and serenity of my work have blessed everyone who has experienced and attained one of the wonderful creations."

"My paintings are inspired by light and shadow.
I am moved by striking moods in the clouds,
rain and mist as well as
a flow of monks' saffron robes.
There is a palpable hush of wonder with
no fixed perspective in my works.
My paintings grow out of silence;
a dreamlike morphology suggesting tranquility and
a sense of spirituality as figures dissolve
into landscape.
The fleeting passage of their quiet moments seen
on my canvas and rice paper shines the light
on the immensity of our universe and
the insignificance of human beings."

Photo (1): Enric Boixadós

More about art around the world here!

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Tempting the Taster While Teasing the Palate

May 21, 2015, 12:51 pm

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Documentaries about food can often be found in the programs of minority film festivals (CAAMFest 2015's program is certainly no exception). However, if one chose their viewing opportunities carefully, 2015's festival offered a superb chance to see how creativity exerts its influence from the earliest stages of manufacturing specialty foods to the home kitchens of aspiring restaurateurs and, finally, to the menus of star chefs working in major hotels and four-star restaurants.

Three documentaries focused on Asian-American cuisine (Bruce Seidel's new PBS series entitled Lucky Chow, Grace Lee's delightfully nomadic Off The Menu: Asian America, and Edmond Wong's high-end Supper Club) approach the subject from different angles which find a tasty synergy when food is delivered to the table. Those tables, however, vary dramatically in size, shape, and location. The smallest may be an office worker's cubicle (where an employee is snacking on some store-bought sushi). If not the biggest table, one of the biggest food operations can certainly be found at the Googleplex in Mountain View, California.

In a segment of Lucky Chow, Danielle Chang visits with the leadership of the Googleplex's vast food program, which includes everything from campus food trucks to salad bars; from employee cafeterias to sit-down restaurants. At Google, the fact that employees eat for free offers some interesting opportunities wherein the dining table often becomes the springboard for discussions that may lead to innovative projects.

Because Google's kitchens try to source their foods from local farms, much of what appears on a diner's plate is fresh, nutritious, and tastier than the offerings found in high school cafeterias or restaurants featuring cheap, all-you-can-eat buffets.

Because Google has so many Asian and Asian-American employees, some of its restaurants can serve food which will have special appeal to programmers from India who are working at Google on special visas (as well as to employees who crave the kind of foods their grandmothers made at home).

With the cross-pollination of workers having dinner at any one time, it's likely that Google employees may be exposed to ethnic cuisines they would otherwise not encounter in the course of their daily lives.

* * * * * * * * * *

Two key elements in Asian cuisine are tofu and noodles. As part of her journey around the United States, Grace Lee visits Banyan Foods, located in Houston, Texas. Owned by the Chiu family (who left Taipei to move to the United States), Banyan Foods has developed a curious specialty: vegan tamales made with tofu (instead of beef, chicken, or pork that has been fried in lard). In 2001, the company began selling egg rolls stuffed with tofu; in 2005 they introduced their tofu tamales. In fact, the packaging for their product boasts that "Santa Anna, Chiang Kai-Shek and Stephen F. Austin are rolling over in their graves right about now."

Poster art for Banyan Foods

The Lucky Chow team visits an artisanal tofu factory in Oakland named Hodo Soy, whose founder is Minh Tsai. In the following video clip, the Vietnamese-American entrepreneur explains what inspired him to create Hodo Soy.

* * * * * * * * * *

While many college students are familiar with cheap ramen noodles (monologist Mike Daisey claims to have had nightmares about the time he was in a theatrical production where the only food the cast could afford was ramen), high-quality ramen is treated with great respect in many Asian restaurants.

As part of her documentary, Grace Lee visits New York's Yuji Haraguchi (whose Yuji Ramen restaurant was at one point located above the Whole Foods store in Manhattan's Bowery district before its owner opened a new restaurant in Brooklyn). While at the Bowery location, part of Haraguchi's good luck was to be able to get bones every day from the butchers at the Whole Foods Market below, which he could stew in a broth made from mussels, tuna, and other seafood in a "surf-and-turf" approach to creating a rich ramen broth. His other specialty was a breakfast ramen made with torched bacon, poached egg, and kale.

In another segment, Ivan Orkin (the owner of Ivan Ramen) prepares a specialty ramen with cheese (an ingredient not often found in Asian cuisine).

During Lucky Chow's visit to The Ramen Shop in Oakland, Danielle Chang accompanies the chef to a farmer's market that provides unusual ingredients for some of his dishes. Among these are:

A vegetarian ramen that uses persimmon, apple, and carrots.

A veggie shoyu Meyer lemon ramen with salt-cured egg, maitake and king oyster mushrooms, mei quing choy rabe, red carrots, kabocha nimono, and mizuna.

A ramen made with shiitake and king oyster mushrooms, baby bok choy, shaved purple carrots, and roasted butternut squash.

A spicy miso ramen dish from The Ramen Shop in Oakland

* * * * * * * * * *

For many people, food has a mysterious power to evoke excitement, ecstasy, and passion. Whether as an aphrodisiac, an invitation to gluttony, or a creative outlet for talented chefs, food offers an adventurous cook as wide a canvas to play with as almost any art form. Is it any wonder that Lionel Bart titled one of the songs from his 1960 hit musical, Oliver! "Food, Glorious Food"?

In the course of his prodigious career as a cook, author, and television personality, Anthony Bourdain has earned a reputation as a culinary explorer who seeks out new challenges, risky foods, innovative treatments, and decadent dining experiences. In the following clip from 2008, he visits Bo Innovation, the creation of Hong Kong's "Demon Chef," Alvin Leung (who practices his personal form of "X-Treme Chinese Cuisine" with the deference and discipline an art form truly deserves).

Edmond Wong's new series, Supper Club, follows Leung (now a media celebrity in his own right) as he visits a string of restaurants in the San Francisco Bay area. Among the chefs he meets are Michael Mina, Ken Tominaga, Corey Lee, and Adam Mali. As they discuss their approaches to finding key ingredients, honoring culinary traditions, mixing flavors from various cultures, and finding new ways to express their artistic visions, all of the participants in this series show a deep passion for their work.

As a documentary, Supper Club is tailor made to tease the palates of inquisitive foodies, yet it also delivers a highly entertaining form of culinary education that offers viewers further insight into the personalities, preferences, and passions of some of the Bay area's leading chefs.

To read more of George Heymont go to My Cultural Landscape

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Modern Ruin: Filmmaker Matthew Silva on the New York State Pavilion

May 21, 2015, 12:52 pm

≫ Next: Film 'Margarita With A Straw' - Unexpected Brilliance - From India

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Written by Julia Rocchi

Modern Ruin: A World's Fair Pavilion - Promo I from Matthew Silva on Vimeo.

For the past three years, the futuristic New York State Pavilion -- a National Treasure looking for a new future of its own - has enchanted many people with its dramatic design and World Fair history. One of those people became so enchanted that he decided to make a film about the structure -- a passion project that quickly grew into a larger grassroots campaign to save the Pavilion.

That person is Matthew Silva, co-founder of People for the Pavilion and the filmmaker behind the documentary Modern Ruin: A World's Fair Pavilion. His tireless efforts behind the camera, on social media, and at the site itself have not only helped get more people talking about the Pavilion, but it's brought them together as well, focusing their energy on reinvention for an inventive space.

This week, the documentary that started it all three years ago is having its world premiere. So before the curtain goes up, we chatted with Silva to learn more about his fascinating route from schoolteacher to filmmaker to preservation advocate.

What first inspired your interest in the New York State Pavilion?

I, like many people my age (born in the '80s, but a kid of the '90s), would always pass the building in the back seat of my parents' car on the way to my grandmother's house and anywhere on my way to New York City. I would see it and I'd say to my parents, "What is that?" [But] my parents didn't go to the fair because they're both immigrants that came after the World's Fair had ended, and so they didn't have any explanation other than "Oh, it's from the World's Fair."

It wasn't until many years later when I was really curious and I Googled, "What is that spaceshipy-looking thing on the side of the Long Island Expressway." And images of what I came to learn as the New York State Pavilion appeared and I started to read about it and I was just fascinated by the history and blown away by the fact that Philip Johnson -- a pretty well-known, renowned architect of the 20th century -- had designed the building, [yet] it was rotting away in plain sight.

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(From left to right) Salmaan Khan, Matthew Silva, and Christian Doran, co-founders of People for the Pavilion.

What did you think about the building once you learned what it was?

I was fascinated. I'm a lover of design architecture and design thinking, and as a middle school and high school technology teacher I'm always looking for ways to incorporate architecture, but also creative thinking, into my curriculum. So I looked at the New York State Pavilion as a really great design problem that kind of sits in limbo at this crossroads: It can be knocked down and forgotten by future generations, or it can be re-purposed into something new that can really benefit future generations of New Yorkers or tourists.

In setting up that lesson plan, I started to do more research on the Internet and realized that there wasn't any kind of established place to learn about this building. There were a lot of venues, a lot of different sources to learn about the World's Fair but not a whole lot specifically about this building. So I said, "I want to try and get in touch with people who actually visited, actually went to the building and experienced firsthand during this era, maybe even through the years."

So what was your next step?

I looked on Facebook for a group about the New York State Pavilion and there wasn't anything like that. So I started one [in spring 2012] and I called it People for the New York State Pavilion. And people started joining it and sharing their memories of the World's Fair, but specifically the New York State Pavilion. I started to establish relationships with people who have worked over the years to try and save the building, and I collected this really unique network of people who know about the building or were really passionate about the building.

I was going to write a book about the building and use my resources from people who I'd met and other academic articles and newspaper articles, etc. [But] I decided that it might be more interesting if I sat down with them with camera and interviewed them. And this idea quickly evolved into what has become this documentary Modern Ruin.

These last three years have been just incredible in terms of who I've been able to meet, and where I've been able to go, and what it's been able to do for the visibility of this building. I feel very privileged to have been able to be a part of it in this capacity; it's just been a lot of fun.

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Salmaan Khan, Christian Doran, and Matthew Silva planning the People For the Pavilion January 25th 2014 Kick-off event.

What did the film allow you to do as opposed to writing the book?

What the film allowed me to do was to create content along the way that I was able to post and generate a lot of buzz on social media. I was able to start interviewing people and put little short clips onto the web, and this got people really excited and it got newspapers and big news outlets to pay attention to what was going on in terms of the preservation effort. The film was something tangible and visible that really got people excited in the early stages leading up to the 50th anniversary.

Why did you decide to title the film with the word "ruin" -- a term that can sometimes be construed as a place beyond saving? What were you hoping to invoke?

Philip Johnson himself referred to the building as a modern ruin. And it's no secret he remarked about this on more than one occasion that he kind of thought the building looked nice as a ruin. But he also did kind of feel like something should be done. Either do something with it or get rid of it, stop going back and forth -- that was kind of his attitude about it.

I also am just fascinated by modern structures and sort of how they age over time. Modern architecture is already 50 plus years old, and it's interesting to see how some of these structures have endured and some of them haven't. And people don't regard modern architecture always as stuff that is "good" architecture and some of it has not survived.

It's interesting to me that in such a short period of time this really monumental and cool piece of architecture has been left to ruin. And it appears from the road, and up close, to be a ruin.

There are similarities in appearance to that of the Roman ruins, I think. That is controversial; some people take issue with that. They don't like to compare the "historic" or "ancient" Roman ruins to something that was really from a pop-culture, sort of bubble-gummy event. But I think it's undeniable that there's something kind of alluring, whimsical, and haunting, and romantic about the New York State Pavilion in the current state that it's in.

Also, the film doesn't necessarily end with a solution because the book hasn't been written, so to speak, on what is going to happen with it. There's still a lot of buzz and a lot of positive things happening with the building. We're still in the state of limbo.

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Matthew Silva preparing to film an interview outside of the Queens Museum.

What do you hope this film will achieve?

I hope that the film reaches a wider audience beyond people who are just interested in architecture or historic preservation. I hope that people see the film and they're able to learn about that thing they always see from the side of the road. It is an internationally known piece of architecture, but a lot of people -- if they know it was from the World's Fair -- they don't remember what it looks like or they don't even know what it looked like. And when they see the contrast, I think they'll start to dream.

Ultimately, that was the thing that started the whole project with my students. It was like, "OK, here's this piece of decaying architecture, but let's have a little bit of vision, let's not see it just as this rotting piece of concrete. What's the dream? Let's dream about what it can be in the same way the people who dreamed up the High Line, dreamed it into something so amazing and beautiful."

So I hope that the film helps people re-imagine the space and are inspired to dream for what it can be in the future.

If people see the film and they walk out and remember nothing else about the Pavilion, what one message (or one idea) do you hope they will walk away with?

How can I help? What can I do to revive this building? That's the feeling I want them to have. Because ultimately, one thing I've learned about becoming involved in preservation just in the last couple of years is [that] it really takes a large community and the effort of a lot of people to make change happen. And the more people that feel inspired to voice their opinion for saving a structure, the better. So I really hope the film reaches a wider audience and more people come into the effort of saving the building.

For more information about "Modern Ruin", visit http://www.aquarelapictures.com/.

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Film 'Margarita With A Straw' - Unexpected Brilliance - From India

May 21, 2015, 1:10 pm

≫ Next: 5-Year-Old With Autism Captures Her World in Stunning Photos

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The film Margarita With A Straw is so unexpectedly brilliant, on so many levels, that I was completely mesmerized. Focused on taboo within taboo, the fragility of our collective human condition and the joy and possibility of life, the film is required viewing.

Not knowing as much about Indian cinema as I should, I was unfamiliar with its actors - which led to even further surprises. However, since half of the film is set in New York City, I felt right at home. As much of it was filmed on Roosevelt Island, I felt at home literally - I live here.

NYIFF Opening Night Film, "Margarita With a Straw." Photo Credit: NYIFF.

The film was directed by Shonali Bose and stars Kalki Koechlin and Sayani Gupta, all of whom I had the privilege of dining with following its NYC premier at the 15th Annual New York Indian Film Festival (NYIFF) of the Indo-American Arts Council (IAAC). The Arts Council, founded in 1998, is directed by the amazing Aroon Shivdasani, who I profiled here. Its flagship project, the film festival, is directed by our friend Aseem Chhabra.

It is really hard to explain this movie without giving it away. The main character is a wheel chair-bound young woman with cerebral palsy living in India who moves to New York to attend NYU. The only actress that went through my mind is the talented deaf actor Marlee Betany Matlin. Another character - an NYU activist named Khanum played by Sayani Gupta, is blind.

Sayani Gupta and Kalki Koechlin. Photo Credit: NYIFF.

My first thought, given I did not know the actors, was that the casting director had found the most unbelievable actors with disabilities to play the challenging roles. When they bounded up on stage at the end of the NYC premier, I realized their acting abilities were grander than I had imagined. Kalki said she had prepared for her role as a woman with CP for six months. Sayani also shared that she had trained, blindfolded, for her part in the film.

In its simplest level, the movie is about this young woman's desire to fit into the world, whether in India or the U.S. The character, Laila (Kalki Koechelin), just wants to belong. We see her first at the University of Delhi, and then at NYU. High on her agenda is creating music, going to school, messaging friends - and eventually, having sex.

Kalki Koechlin. Photo Credit: NYIFF.

Laila is challenged but not defeated by her own body. She falls in love with several people and is intimate with more then one of them. Her mother, who has moved to New York to take care of her, misconstrues the nature of her daughter's relationships, assuming the physical handicap precludes romance. The daughter, in turn, misconstrues her mother's health.

In college, I volunteered one summer at a camp for adolescents with cerebral palsy. The sexual frustration the campers felt was palatable. I tried to discuss this perceived problem with the health staff in residence, but was discouraged from even asking such questions. Laila goes on to do what I hope each and every one of those campers did in life.

Kalki Koechlin. Photo Credit: NYIFF.

Director Shonali Bose told me after I saw the film:

When life hands you lemons you can be bitter and sour or you can make a yummy Margarita with them and raise a toast! That's the essence of Margarita, With A Straw. The film became a deeply personal film for me as it was written in the crucible of death of my son, acceptance, and moving on. I wrote from the very core of my being. And this film has captured - all the pain, struggle, joy, peace and acceptance of this time period in my life. Although, the events and characters are completely different.

Director Shonali Bose. Photo Credit: NYIFF.

Kalki Koechlin, who played the woman in the wheelchair, said:

I never know what to expect from any audience, or I don't really dwell on that before a screening because I don't like having preconceived notions on other people's opinions. But I do love New York, as a city, and I feel it is artistically vibrant, with interesting conversations to be had with the people of New York. I fell in love with the city when we were on MWAS and enjoyed so many things, from the food, the music scene, art, theater, and stand up. I was looking forward to conversation after the film and really enjoyed the response of people both Desi and American who seemed to connect emotionally with Laila's story.

Post-Screening Discussion. From L to R:
Nilesh Maniyar (Co-Director), Kalki Koechlin, Shonali Bose, Sayani Gupta,
and NYIFF Festival Director Aseem Chhabra. Photo Credit: NYIFF.

Sayani Gupta, the blind NYU activist of Pakistani-Bangladeshi parentage, said:

Someone told me after watching the film that Laila and Khanum's love story in New York City made him miss the time he spent with his ex-girlfriend in NYC. I found Khanum's soul here in this city and to come back to see people love and appreciate her is truly gratifying! It was my first visit to NYC when we shot the film, and both Shonali and I had to work hard on making Khanum look at home here. And now, after watching the film, people think I am from here. That's a great feeling!

Sayani Gupta on NYIFF Opening Night Red Carpet in Sabyasachi.
Photo Credit: NYIFF.

Films are not created overnight. Margarita, with a Straw was first conceptualized in 2010. The script was the winner of the Sundance Global Filmmaker Award in 2011 and was also selected for the NFDC Work in Progress Lab during post-production in 2013. The film made its world premiere at the 2014 Toronto International Film Festival (TIFF). The movie then went global, screening in Estonia, the U.K., and South Korea.

NYIFF Opening Night Red Carpet.
From L to R: Aroon Shivdasani, Kalki Koechlin and Sayani Gupta.
Photo Credit: NYIFF.

The Indo-American Arts Council has a history of getting it right. With the early help of Jonathan Hollander, whom I have written about, as well as Advisory Board members Vishakha Desai, my first Indian friend Sundaram Tagore, Mira Nair, Salman Rushdie, the IAAC is the pre-eminent South Asia arts organizations in the U.S. With support from dedicated interns, the organization accomplishes everything on time and under budget. The return on investment for this organization is so high my own foundation supports it. We particularly support its Literary Festival at Columbia University.

If you want a well-curated South Asian experience - from film to dance to literature to art to theater - let Aroon Shivdasani and her team be your guide. Film guru Aseem Chhabra and all the other global citizens make this 15th annual New York Indian Film Festival the best place to see South Asian art in the U.S. and increasingly one of the world's best film festivals in any category.

Margarita With A Straw is a 2015 Indian film.
Directed by Shonali Bose and starring Kalki Koechlin and Sayani Gupta.

Indo-American Arts Council (IAAC) is a registered 501(c)3 non-profit, secular arts organization promoting awareness and production/exhibition of South Asian art forms in North America.

New York Indian Film Festival (NYIFF)

See Stories by Jim Luce on:

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Love | New York | Roosevelt Island | Women & Girls

The James Jay Dudley Luce Foundation (www.lucefoundation.org) supporting young global leadership is affiliated with Orphans International Worldwide (OIWW), raising global citizens. If supporting youth is important to you, subscribe to J. Luce Foundation updates here.

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5-Year-Old With Autism Captures Her World in Stunning Photos

May 21, 2015, 3:53 pm

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≪ Previous: Film 'Margarita With A Straw' - Unexpected Brilliance - From India

This is 5-year-old Kate. She has autism. She loves Ninja Turtles and kicking dirt. She loves her dog and just about everyone she meets. She's pretty special. Here is just one more reason why: She's recently taken an interest in photography (and by that I mean she's been perseverating on my very expensive DSLR camera), and she'd like to share some of her photos with you. I think you'll be impressed.

Her dad's smile. Eye contact can be hard for those on the autism spectrum so focusing on a smile is key.

Her autism service dog, Oakley, is a favorite subject, for sure.

We aren't entirely sure what we are looking at, but we love that the subject is zooming by. Kate was likely moving quickly, too, as she is not one to stop moving, ever... seriously, ever.

Relax, I was there the whole time. I taught her to zoom to get a close up of the bonfire.

Our favorite by far. Who runs toward a soaking wet dog that's ready to shake? Kate, that's who.

Beautiful, isn't it?

Of course, her big sister makes the cut.

Hey, I told you he was her favourite subject.

Read more about Kate here.

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Interview With Jean Nouvel

May 22, 2015, 5:06 am

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Architect Jean Nouvel Invites Us into His Creative Thought Process and Discusses His Current Battle over the Paris Philharmonic

Jean-Nouvel

The Paris studio of architect, Jean Nouvel (b. 1945, Fumel, France), serves as the meeting place for our interview. Nouvel is one of the key members of an exclusive group of architects, which has been honored with the most significant architecture awards in the world, including The Imperial Prize of Japan, The RIBA Royal Gold Medal, The Pritzker Prize, The Aga Khan Award, and The Wolf Foundation Arts Prize.

Elena Cué: The anti-Le Corbusier architect Claude Parent was your mentor when you were starting out at the age of 21. Please tell me about what meeting him meant for your career. You were actively involved in May 68 with a radical stance against the educational model of the École des Beaux-Arts in Paris. What were the things you demanded?

Jean Nouvel: I felt that his studio was one of the most creative at that time. He and his partner, Paul Virilio, created a space where a new approach to architecture could evolve. Paul became a very well-known philosopher and thinker of the time. I joined the intellectual rebellion of "May 68" and it certainly impacted my architectural style in terms of its criticism of the way in which French cities have traditionally been constructed. Later on, I joined with them to create the "March 1976 Movement," which demanded that the design of French cities no longer follow the same traditional model. Soon after, the architecture trade union was formed. It was a time of intellectual excitement.

EC: How would you define your architectural thought?

JN: I think it's similar to the solidification of a cultural experience, which means that ultimately, every generation has a job to do. Cities are made from an assortment of constructed testimonies, which reflect the things that each generation specifically liked, the different techniques that were used at that time, and their relationship with art. I've spent my life fighting against certain forms of academicism. It's true that there's an actual entity that's devoted to reproducing models from the past--the worst things from the worst situations and then making them pastiche. A pastiche, in reality, is always a degradation of what was true at an earlier time. It's like a ghost or a faint remnant of the past. I believe that every place deserves careful consideration.

In my opinion, every project is the start of an adventure, and clearly, I never seem to know where I'm going. I don't start with a preconceived idea. I always begin with a hope that the place, the experience, and the people with whom I am going to find myself at that moment are all going to contribute something completely unique. This sort of precision and nonconformity serve as an attack on the concept of cloning. Along these lines, there is something that has made the situation even worse--the development of information technology. Nowadays, the guidelines for creating any kind of project are readily available. As a result, you can design a building in a few hours based upon these predetermined criteria. It doesn't matter if they're residences, offices, or shopping malls. You select from what already exists, adjust a few elements, and just like that, it's done. Unfortunately, there isn't any gray area. There isn't enough thought, planning, or love in the designs that come about like that. They're automated and don't have any soul.

fondation-cartier-building luc-boegly-web

EC: In your work, as you say, you try to create a space that would be the mental extension of what is seen, a space of seduction, veiling and unveiling, looking and going unseen, concealing, light and shadow, mystery. How much is there of the erotic in your work?

JN: When there isn't mystery, there isn't seduction. Architecture is a mystery that must be preserved. If everything is revealed at once, nothing will ever happen organically. Without a doubt, concealing is one of the elements of eroticism and therefore, of erotic architecture. So, if we look at the Cartier Foundation, for example, you have two parallel, clear glass panels on a surface creating a mysterious uncertainty because of the way it plays with the reflections of the trees and the clouds.

There are also situations where you can play with the presence of nature to the point that you wonder if it's really a garden, for example. A garden is where thousands of natural species have reproduced and are coexisting together. All of these things, as well as the interference with the sun and the rain, create certain sensations that we aren't used to feeling. It's a form of simplicity that truly hides an enormous complexity and this complexity is what distinguishes that specific location. The reflections and the porosity of the emerald-colored glass make it so that you can hardly see what's behind. When you put blinds on the inside, it appears as if the landscape is printed on them.

Essentially, one attempts to choose ways of concealing, ways of showing, ways of hiding, ways of saying things or not saying things, and ways of suggesting things, but not ever formulating them. That is architectural eroticism.

EC: You work is highly heterogeneous, your buildings adapt to the space, context and culture with which they will coexist. For each project, in what factors do you seek your inspiration?

JN: In life and situations. I believe in situational architecture. Circumstances don't only relate to the actual place, but also to the aspects of an encounter or an appearance. In this regard, I'm considered a "situationist," but I don't think you can design a building just like that. A building isn't a sculpture and it typically doesn't change places. Some are relocated, but that's very rare and I feel like those situations are completely unpredictable. For that reason, we are always searching for anything that can impact a project and change it, which means that we must respond to lots of questions and concerns. You have to realize that architects are always considered to be incompetent and yet their work in and of itself must be highly competent. Every time I'm asked a question, I have to view it as if I'm coming from the opposite perspective and there are a lot of things I just don't know. For that reason, we are obligated to listen, to take into account, and to understand all aspects of the question at hand, every single time. Essentially, you must always combine the outside perspective with the inner viewpoint.

EC: So, what is your perspective?

JN: Mine is generally from the outside in. Sometimes it can be from the inside out, but that's rare. I'm always looking for exteriors. Someone that knows a location or a profession very well has inner vision. If you visit a city that you've never seen before, you're able to see things without noticing every single detail. Something quite poetic and pleasing can be emphasized, highlighted, and revisited by those who are on the inside. The architect's first task is what I call catalysis; in other words, it means to put things in their place. When the catalyst is present, things usually materialize with just a tiny spark. Then, there's the job of harmoniously combining all of those elements that, oftentimes, are contradictory. You must try to establish unity or synergy.

03743588FOTO AMPLIADA

EC: The first time I met you, you were disappointed with the end-result of the enlargement of the Museo Reina Sofía. Can you explain what disappointed you?

JN: I wasn't happy. This often happens with me. Sometimes, contracts are not entirely clear and businesses have intentions that are not necessarily the same as ours. It's always been like that, but before, architects had a certain level of power that would get them respect in these kinds of situations. As time passed and the economy advanced, things became much more complicated, like how things are today. Perhaps, at the Reina Sofía, I wasn't happy about some of the conditions that were set forth in stone, but I'm generally not dissatisfied with the profound nature of the project. What bothered me most was that the Council promised to do a bunch of things. There was a study done by Álvaro Siza where the traffic in front of the Reina Sofía would be redirected underground. So, the project was carried out based upon the hypothesis that this would be accomplished. Well, what that means is that the pedestrians are not going to have the same relationship with the building and, further more, there is a sound effect caused by the noise from the street, which bounces off the roof and is heard inside where the original calmness has been lost forever. It's simply not possible to have the same tranquility that was originally envisioned

EC: You have commented that in your building for the Cartier Foundation you mix real and virtual images using glass panes and light to trick the senses. Your aesthetic principles are reminiscent of the artist James Turrel, who explores the perception of space by using light to modify that perception. Are you interested in this artist's train of thought?

JN: I am really interested in Turrel. He's someone that works with light, nothingness, and location. He's an artist that completely plays with locations. His works simply can't be moved to different places. Their meaning derives entirely from their locations. I'm not talking about the core of the design, which obviously is very close to his vision of the world. I'm referring to the way in which his designs are positioned in order to frame the sky or to capture and create light thereby altering the classification and contours of the location. I really like artists that work according to the situation at hand rather than simply focusing on a few objects that they don't really know where to put. As a result of the commercialized advancement of art, I think that there's a kind of truth to art that is best expressed when the works are done in their original location. They either belong to a place architecturally well or geographically well. Needless to say, all of James Turrel's work involving perspective and light has clearly inspired me for a very long time.

EC: You've designed a lot of buildings in Spain. Which one of them did you enjoy the most?

JN: Because of what I've explained to you, I really don't want to tell you which one. What I can say is that I can't put the Agbar Tower in Madrid. It just wouldn't work. So, for example, people that don't know Barcelona see the Agbar Tower in international magazines and they don't understand it at all. The Agbar Tower is completely Catalonian. It simply can't exist in another location. Its formal design has been utilized by Catalonian architects for many centuries and was inspired by Monserrat's mountainous peaks, which have been shaped by the wind. The phallic nature of Monserrat's peaks is impressive. The fact that the Tower has been designed on an urban scale never seen before and that it's also colored makes it a tribute to Gaudí. The Catalonians and Barcelonians readily acknowledge that the building represents their culture and, at the same time, understand that it was formed from their DNA. On the other hand, the international community only sees the phallic symbol as a suggestion of sexual provocativeness and nothing more.

1421695358 154046 1421696769 noticia grande

EC: The recently installed Paris Philharmonic opened to the public without your work being finished, and yet it's been an overwhelming success. What can you tell me about this project?

JN: The Philharmonic is a drama and a melodrama. It's the kind of project where normally, everything is in line for success. I feel that it's a project that demonstrates an innovative arrangement of a room on a musical level, a room that successfully defends the use of inside space as well as its emphasis on musical symbolism. Everyone recognizes that. Unfortunately, the building itself isn't finished, obviously. For political and financial reasons, they've done something that's never been done in France since all public buildings are made by a public entity that controls the use of funds. This project was carried out by a private association that decided to hide the rise in cost and, for that reason, they pushed me aside. All of this might seem rather tragic, but in my opinion, it doesn't really feel that way because I'm used to suffering when it comes to my profession. I'm here to defend the pleasure of all music lovers and the artistic aspirations that all of the children will have, thanks to this building. For that reason, I'm going to fight to the end in order to settle this so that the building is completed correctly and no one accuses me of any atrocities about the way in which it was finished, its details, or about the public spaces that surround it. I'm involved in one of the toughest battles of my life.

Interview with Jean Nouvel by Elena Cue

Home: Alejandra de Argos

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It's Lonely at the Top

May 22, 2015, 6:39 am

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Let me EntertainYou

Dear Reader,

After I finish an art piece, it wants to say something.

It's hard enough to get to the point with any creation where you feel that no more revisions are necessary, nothing needs adding or removing. So what is this disturbing, surprising, unfinished sensation?

Sitting with the piece, and with this nagging stirring for just a moment, and it reveals itself.

It turns out it had nothing to do with the finished piece needing another ingredient.

It spoke.

It sometimes happens immediately, at times haunts me in the alpha state just before drifting into sleep. How mysterious, no? The language, the voices are my own, but I assure you it comes from another place, just floating in the cosmos. I feel it fluttering all around me, needing only a butterfly net to capture it.

Here is the story it told me.

Valerie von Sobel

It's Lonely at the Top

I am the writer and the chemist, the liar and the sinner, the genius and the clumsy, the humble servant Khadim al Selim.

I will tell you my tale, with sincerity in every detail.

Lacking humility, I declare to have been the most popular and beloved eunuch in the history of any Imperial harem. In the service of the great Caliph Al-i Osman, my duties were many but I delighted in them all, and still found time to write in secret (In fact, I achieved some fame under the nom de plume of Al-Rashid.)

I was intoxicated with the rare splendors of my Sultan's court, and became the only one allowed to speak with him in private. I reported to him on the intimate details of his vast harem, and made him laugh. As head of "inner service" of the seraglio I amused my sovereign with innocent intrigues, and directed performances with the 900 white eunuchs in my charge. My most intimate responsibility was the preparation of perfumes; I personally formulated the secret ingredients for each of the favorite fragrances that made them even more beguiling. We tested and fine-tuned the scents in the alabaster hammams, and with each combination of oils I became more indispensable.

I felt I could do no wrong. I amassed a private fortune, and even my weakness for luxury was rewarded summer and winter with the most lavish embroidered silks and furs.

One day it was my vanity that caused my downfall.

I was impatient to try a new garment on, and was careless in leaving my chamber unlocked. I was spied on, and discovered the only secret that was unpardonable: I was not castrated. It's only because of my high post and special privileges that this was possible to hide for four decades.

My world had collapsed. Knowing that the years spent in Oriental splendor, prosperity and indulgence were over, were the least of my worries. I was facing beheading, the traditional punishment for such a crime. In public humiliation I was to hand over the State documents in my custody, and was thrown into a dungeon awaiting my fate.

But I was never to go in front of the harsh palace tribunal, because my Sultan of Sultans took pity on me and visited me in the dawn hours. For the sake of his affection for me he was going to allow me to build a small tower in remote Basra, where I was to spend my days in seclusion. This sentence would have seemed worse than death to many, but to me. Having my rich imagination as companion, intended to I use it for writing books in the serenity of my Tower. I rejoiced, as if it was a reward, instead of punishment. I was escorted out in the darkness of the night with all my luxuries and possessions. My tower according to my plans was built with wings, symbolic of the freedom of my mind.

As I recalled my Caliph's Circassian beauties, I remembered not only their enthralling fragrance, but also the porcelain of their skin, the rapturous volume of their hair, the splendor of their eyes, and the brilliant ringing of their laughter.

I had material enough to publish many books, you may have even heard about one of them, The Thousand and One Nights.

As told by the merry sinner Selim

To Valerie von Sobel

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The Difficult Trip to Tomorrowland

May 22, 2015, 7:31 am

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If you took the world of The Jetsons, and made it a live-action film location, that would describe the visuals for the mysterious, glorious and fantastical place Tomorrowland. Seeing it is easy. Getting there is difficult. All the work it takes to travel to this paradise may not be worth the effort for this film's target audience, young girls. Blame the meandering script, the lax pacing and some cheesy sets for making a trip to Shangri-La an iffy adventure.

(Photo courtesy of Walt Disney Pictures)
Britt Robertson co-stars in the fantasy adventure Tomorrowland.

Director Brad Bird (The Iron Giant and Mission: Impossible -- Ghost Protocol) co-wrote the script with Damon Lindelof (World War Z) and Jeff Jensen. Can't knock Bird and Lindelof's writing pedigree, on the one hand. On the other hand, with that much firepower, they should be able to write a script that is worth following, one that unfolds mysteriously but engagingly and is easy enough to comprehend. A film that panders to young female audiences shouldn't have a complicated screenplay. If adults lose interest discerning what's going on, kids will be scratching their heads, text messaging or falling asleep.

It's 1964, the height of the New York World's Fair. A precocious kid named Frank Walker (Thomas Robinson, who looks like a young Jay Leno) has come all the way to the Big Apple to show off his invention, a jet pack that can make him fly--theoretically. He presents it to a huffy judge named Nix (Hugh Laurie), who scoffs at the machine made with two vacuum cleaner tanks. Nix's young assistant Athena (Raffey Cassidy, Snow White and the Huntsman) takes a liking to Frank, gives him a lapel pin with a "T," and suggests he follow her, Nix and his crew. Frank does, and winds up in a futuristic citadel.

Fast forward to present day. Casey Newton (Britt Robertson, The Longest Ride), a feisty adolescent, her dad (Tim McGraw) and younger brother live in Cape Canaveral, Florida; so close to NASA she can smell the jet fuel. She gets arrested, and when she is released, she is given back her personal belongings. In her stuff is a mysterious lapel pin with a "T." Whenever she touches the trinket, inexplicably, she is taken away to fields of wheat, with a mystical city floating in the distance. "I think I've seen the future," says Casey. As she tries to unravel the mystery of the pin she meets Athena. The two, and a much older Frank (George Clooney) who is now an eccentric, reclusive inventor, are on a mission to get back to Tomorrowland.

The inspiration for the film comes from Disneyland's Tomorrowland and Epcot Center. That very inorganic premise is possibly why the script feels so contrived. The Casey character is decently drawn, should intrigue girls and Newton makes her very appealing. The older Frank character, as played by Clooney, is so crabby you want to force-feed him Prozac. Ditto Laurie as the bitter Nix. As the story goes on, and on, and on, it becomes apparent that Wonderland needs to be saved for a bunch of reasons. None are that clear, nor will they be of great concern to many.

Scott Chambliss' (Star Trek Into Darkness) production designs for the magical city are ingeniously beautiful. At other times his sets look obviously fake (interior of the inter-dimensional spaceship) to the point of distraction. Cinematographer Claudio Miranda's (Life of Pi) visions of the city will stay in your psyche. His shots of regular scenes are dated and reminiscent of Back to the Future. Jeff Kurland's costumes on the normal people blend in well, but his space-age fashions for Nix look like rejects from an Earth Wind & Fire tour. There are periods when Casey, Frank and Athena are on the run and the pace kicks in. But over the course of 130 minutes, editors Walter Murch and Craig Wood have not done their due diligence. There are times when you will tap your foot and wonder if there is any popcorn left at the concession stand.

The point of Tomorrowland is to encourage youngsters to think out of the box, stay positive and never give up. It's a sweet and inspirational message buried in a mire of cryptic plotting. Still, young girls may get a kick watching Casey solve problems adults can't.

Visit NNPA Syndication Film Critic Dwight Brown at DwightBrownInk.com.

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Flamenco Vivo Shares Spanish Dance with U.S. Audiences One Performance at a Time

May 22, 2015, 7:35 am

≫ Next: The Visit's Chita Rivera Has My Vote for Tony for Best Actress in a Musical

≪ Previous: The Difficult Trip to Tomorrowland

Photo credit: Angelica Escoto Photography

16 flamenco artists sit in a restaurant, famished after a night of performance. They smile and laugh, gulping down their meals. Suddenly, one of them stands to sing. Unsurprised, his tablemates join him, clapping to the rhythm and improvising lyrics for dinnertime ambiance.

The evening lends itself to a more intimate encore offstage. After all, flamenco isn't about an auditorium of spectators and pre-choreographed repertoire. At its core, the art form reflects on the kind of humanity and sentimentality showcased on a midnight in May at a forgotten dining room.

Flamenco Vivo's artistic director Carlota Santana revisited the scene, still in awe of a moment that captured the essence of her work. "It was like the soul of everybody coming out, but it was joyful," she explained, exhilarated.

Indeed, flamenco is all about soul, passion itching for release. It comes from Andalucía, Spain's simmering southern region that inspired Federico García Lorca to write prose like "to burn with desire and keep quiet about it is the greatest punishment we can bring on ourselves." In its borders lie gypsy collectives and Arabic architecture, the archives of Ferdinand Columbus and the Alhambra. As Santana put it, "Spain has always been a land of immigrants," and Andalucía, with Islamic rule during the Middle Ages and continued Romani influence, is perhaps one of the most vivid examples of cultural exchange in Europe.

And so flamenco itself must embody its home's fervor, evoking mystery and sensuality amidst menace and grit.

"Flamenco is a mix of many, many cultures," Santana said. "I think the important thing that reaches people no matter what culture they're from is the emotionality of the art form. All our emotions are very universal. Everybody, no matter who you are or where you're from, is happy, sad, angry, depressed... The whole range of human emotions is expressed through the flamenco art form."

Of course, the dance also harbors the appeal of "the other" thanks to its gypsy association, which has boosted its popularity abroad. While Santana emphasized that flamenco is not solely a product of Romani customs, she did admit that it has probably benefitted from the magnetism of exoticism.

"People were attracted to it because of this gypsy lure of something different and something a little bit frightening and dangerous," Santana continued. "Anybody who's different or seems to be of the other side is very attractive to people who are on this side."

However, as artistic director of Flamenco Vivo, founded in 1983, Santana aims to push beyond this fascination with difference to share the true beauty of flamenco with the American public. She cherishes the art form as a personal gift that has filled her life with happiness, and she wants to make it more acceptable and accessible in the United States. She's trying to get people to "understand what we do and who we are" one demonstration at a time, and over the past 30 years, she's made significant headway. In fact, this week, her troupe is the first to perform flamenco at the BAM Fisher in Brooklyn, reaching new audiences at Ashland Place.

2015-05-21-1432230652-9871534-AngelMunozinMartinete.SeguiriyaAngelicaEscotoPhotography2.jpg

Photo credit: Angelica Escoto Photography

On the bill are three world premieres by esteemed choreographers in the field. Ángel Muñoz has produced a 50-minute piece with four dancers (including himself) and six musicians. Titled Angeles, the work looks at Muñoz's nuanced character -- his machismo, his sexual femininity, and his fears of the future.

For its second debut, Flamenco Vivo plucked Enrique Vicent and Antonio López from Madrid's El Certamen de Coreografía de Danza Española y Flamenco competition to set their Martinete-Seguiriya on the company. Guadalupe Torres will also present her new solo, Ausencia. As Arlene Croce wrote in 1986, "The primary emotions of flamenco make it a soloist's art," and after winning Madrid's Certamen twice, Torres is more than qualified to capture Croce's ideal of the flamenco dancer who "is provoked to confession by the music."

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Photo credit: Marcos G. Punto

While the BAM stint sounds tremendous, it's no more grandiose than that evening at a restaurant, singing and clapping in unison. Art is so often a lonely profession, unique for its sacrifice and suffering. But at least among Flamenco Vivo, there's camaraderie in the artists' love for what they do, and that makes long hours of rehearsals and road trips worthwhile.

"There's something very special about what travels in the flamenco world," Santana claimed. "It really brings artists together."

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The Visit's Chita Rivera Has My Vote for Tony for Best Actress in a Musical

May 22, 2015, 9:05 am

≫ Next: "Close Your Eyes, Hold Hands:" The Inspiration Behind the Novel

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Recently I had the opportunity to see The Visit on Broadway. Swiss dramatist Friedrich Durrenmatt's tragicomic play Der Besuch der Alten Dame (The Visit) is a tale of sweet revenge. It's always been one of my favorites. And this production is masterful. As a musical it is magic. Legendary Tony Award-winning duo John Kander and Fred Ebb have served up the music and are nominated for Tony's.

And while The Visit is nominated for Best Musical, it is made magical by none other than Chita Rivera. Ms. Rivera, at the remarkable age of 82, brings vivid life to Claire Zachanassian. Her portrayal of Claire is chilling. Riveting. Regal. And above all sympathic. Ms. Rivera makes Claire Zachanassian a loving heroine. She gives understanding as to why Claire, who becomes the richest woman in the world, bought off her hometown inhabitants to murder the man who jilted her in her youth. Feeling worthless, sexless, Claire was propelled into a life of promiscuous sex. A whore she became and sings her sadness from her core. As a whore, she went on to become the wife of seven men who left her fortunes. Ms. Rivera owns the stage and sings about the denigrating life that her former lover--the only true love of her life-- Anton Schell caused her to be reduced to. Claire wisely turns her humiliation and denigration into cash. Durrenmatt sardonically serves up the role of wealthy wife and whore and how they can relate. But it is Ms. Rivera's lilting yet commanding voice that gives sympathy to her suffering. Because of her love for Anton Schell, she is consumed with a desire to pay off her entire hometown-- who witnessed her being jilted and who falsely testified against her-- to murder him. The denizens of this dilapidated, despicable village represent universal greed, another theme of The Visit. As is corruption of the sexist judicial system. The corrupt Judge of this town takes Claire's child with Anton from her by paying off witnesses to testify against her. These evil, greedy witnesses paint Claire as the town whore instead of the faithful lover of Anton Schell who is the true father of her baby. Because of these dishonest, paid-off witnesses, Claire loses her beloved baby. The Visit is about revenge, greed, a corrupt judicial system, sexism and ultimately love.

Chita Rivera brings sympathy to murderess Claire Zachanassian who wants to bring Anton Schell's coffin to her home in Italy and finally in death separate him from the woman he married instead of her, so that Claire Zachanassian and Anton Schell can be together for the rest of her life. After Anton's body is placed in the coffin, Ms. Rivera strokes it with tenderness with her one good hand. Her other hand is plastic. Her one leg is wooden. She has suffered, but with Anton Schell's dead body by her side, she smiles and suffers no more. Ironically playwrite Terrence Mc Nally who wrote The Visit is nominated for Best Book of a Musical. John Doyle, two time Tony Award winner (Sweeney Todd), has directed The Visit and Tony winner Roger Rees co-stars with Ms. Rivera.

My only criticism of The Visit was the lack of pomp and circumstance of Ms. Rivera's entrance. The coffin needed to be brought onto stage with a grand, majestic, sinister air, but it merely appeared on stage surrounded by two eunuchs and a servant wearing a top hat. In some versions of the play live cheetahs drew a gold chariot holding the coffin. But this weakness did not take away from Ms. Rivera's performance which has deservedly earned her a nomination for a Tony as Best Actress in a Musical. Based on what I saw of her performance in the Visit, she has my vote.

After Chita Rivera's mesmerizing singing, dancing and acting, my friend Heather Mac Rae, took me backstage to meet her. Heather had replaced Diane Keaton in the original Broadway production ofHair so going to a play with Heather opens up a world of backstage glamor. We climbed up a spiral staircase as I huffed and puffed, amazed that Ms. Rivera does this for each performance.

"How do you do those stairs at 82?" I asked her as she continued to radiate enthusiasm. She just laughed as I struggled to catch my breath and was so proud to shake the hand of the woman who should win the Tony for Best Actress in a Musical... And who is a true beauty and radiant spirit up close and personal.

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"Close Your Eyes, Hold Hands:" The Inspiration Behind the Novel

May 22, 2015, 9:09 am

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It's one of those classic, absolutely reasonable questions--that is, alas, as impossible to answer briefly as the meaning of life. But I am asked it often. All novelists are.

Where do your ideas come from?

The glib answer--always offered with a smile--is this: "Macy's."

The reality is that each of my 17 novels sprang from a very different seed and grew in a very different fashion. My most recent novel, "Close Your Eyes, Hold Hands," is a case in point.

Emily Shepard, the 17-year-old Vermonter who narrates the book, was born in Beirut--or, at the very least, she was conceived there. It was December 2012, and I had arrived in the city while on a seven-day speaking tour in Lebanon. My plane landed around 3:30 in the afternoon, which my body clock adamantly told me was really 10:30 at night. I went out to dinner with my hosts from one of the universities, and returned to my hotel around 11 p.m.--at about the time I would be rising if I were back home in Vermont. I had slept on the plane, but not very much. I was exhausted and knew I should go right to bed, since the next day was going to begin with a breakfast meeting.

But I didn't go to sleep, because I had started reading a novel on the flight and had to finish it. It was riveting. The book? Emma Donoghue's "Room." It wasn't simply the plot that held me fast, as taut as it is; it was the narrator. As a novelist, I was dazzled by the authenticity of the voice Donoghue had created for her five-year-old male storyteller. That's right, a little boy named Jack shares with us the wrenching, adult story of his and his mother's imprisonment in a shed, and his mother's desperate attempt to save them both.

I finished the novel around two in the morning in Beirut, and knew I wanted my next novel to be a first-person tale with a voice that genuine and unexpected. I had no idea, however, who that storyteller would be. An important detail, I know.

Ten days later I was back in my beloved 802. (We have just one area code here in Vermont: 802.) I went to lunch with a friend of mine, Annie Ramniceanu, a therapist who at the time was working with teens in trouble. She told me how a couple of homeless kids--teens who were falling through the system--had built igloos against the Lake Champlain cold out of trash bags filled with wet, frozen leaves, and I knew instantly the novel I wanted to write.

The very idea of a teen girl living alone in one of those igloos broke my heart. That image haunted me--and spurred me on.

And I knew my narrator. I knew Emily Shepard was a cutter and Oxycontin addict, and an aspiring poet with a girl crush on Emily Dickinson. She was a homeless kid and an orphan trying desperately to keep it together after a Fukushima-scale meltdown of Vermont's lone nuclear plant.

Most of my novels begin very much like this: an inspiration. An anecdote. An unexpected synaptic connection.

Now, "Close Your Eyes, Hold Hands" is not the first time I've had a female narrator share with my readers a story. "Midwives," "Trans-Sister Radio," "Secrets of Eden," and "The Sandcastle Girls" had female narrators, too.

But, as I will reveal in my post here next week, this was the first time I found myself texting my teenage daughter for hipster-speak synonyms for "hookup" and "stoned."

Stay tuned.

(The paperback of "Close Your Eyes, Hold Hands" arrives this Tuesday, on May 26.)

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My Tomas Vu Interview

May 22, 2015, 9:20 am

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After the television debut of his artwork on Season 3 of House of Cards, Tomas Vu sat down with Sara Zielinski to talk about his surfboards, revolution, and being in the faux oval office with Kevin Spacey. In 2011, Vu made his first laser-engraved wooden surfboard, setting out to make 210, one for each of the Beatles' songs.

You have a long history with surfing, starting in your childhood in Vietnam. Tell me about your introduction to surfing and its relationship to this project.

In Vietnam, I had a little business where I took care of all of the GIs' surfboards. I was 10. I had a little posse of four and we had boards for anyone who was interested in surfing. We lived near the beach so my mother, who was an interpreter for the American military, gave me access to the base for business.

One GI in particular - it was 1973 is when I first met Young American. California boy. He was a sniper. How did I know? Because in his barrack, the gun he cleaned was a sniper's rifle.

And he only listened to The Beatles. Every time I was around him, The Beatles was what he would either sing or listen to. So that's the really early, formative experience. This is when all of that started happening for me, the awareness of surfboards and The Beatles, that connection for the first time.

Musical influences recur throughout your different bodies of work.

Music, in general, is always a signifier for the soundtrack to your life. Sometimes I have forgotten about something and then a song will instantly bring me back to that moment, to that period. I think we all have this. I kept with the Beatles for a long time because I always wanted to, perhaps, go back to that period. We're all trying to do that, right?

During the war, it was wonderful for a child to live in that landscape. I lived in the heart of the action, the war, the jungle, the beach. Then I got plucked from there and dropped into the middle of a dirt patch. The contrast between El Paso, Texas and Vietnam was extreme. I remember flying in to El Paso - it looked like we were landing on Mars because it was all brown and red dirt. When we got off the plane, I remember seeing tumbleweeds go by. You couldn't get a more western landscape than that. The extreme dislocation, that's what I remember.

That fits back into the surfboards. On the front are pieces of your unique landscapes, which come from Vietnam, from El Paso, from a futuristic place...

Yes, it's all three. If you merge the three together, that's the new landscape, or my landscape.

There's something - maybe not apocalyptic - but dystopian, there's anxiety there.

Yeah, unfortunately the apocalyptic genre is everywhere these days. You can't escape it. Perhaps we're glancing into the future. I think that tells a narrative about who we are. It's not very promising at times.

I remember my first sci-fi movie, The Last Man on Earth. It was the scariest thing I'd ever seen. Then in El Paso, one of the first movies I saw was Planet of the Apes. Those are the kinds of movies, same as the music, that lay down the foundation of how we see the landscape, the world.

How do you make the surfboards?

These are called Alaia boards. The wood that I'm using is called Paulownia. I had to learn how to shape these boards from a plank of wood. There's something about going back to the hand. My work deals with the idea of anti-machine, that future world. I want to go back to something very pure. The Alaia boards represent this.

So the wooden boards are shaped by hand and then you use a laser to burn in the images. That's in direct contrast to the hand-shaped board.

Right, because I want to use the machine again. The idea is that I have control of the machine; it doesn't have control of me. There's something at the heart of this about not losing the human in us. Using the machine to make us human again, I suppose. That sounds a bit poetic, but that's the gesture anyway.

Shifting gears, you personally delivered your board to the set of House of Cards. What was it like to be on set?

It was surreal. You walk into this gigantic warehouse and when you go inside, it's like you're in the White House. It's another way of being disoriented. There's the Oval Office -it was very impressive, down to the details. I was overwhelmed by just the sheer production of it. When you watch TV, you don't see the labor. You take it for granted, but you have no concept of what it takes to make a scene until you're on set.

It's quite surreal, too, to have Kevin Spacey say your name.

So much of your work draws on themes of rebellion and courage. Thich Quan Duc, Alan Turing, and Ted Kaczynski are among many iconic individuals included in your ongoing portrait series. Were you happy that your piece was featured in an episode that also starred members of Pussy Riot?

Yeah. [Laughter] When Beau Willimon, writer of House of Cards, told me it was going to be in the same episode as Pussy Riot, I just thought - how fitting is this, that the board is represented in the same spirit as what Pussy Riot is doing. It's as an act of rebellion. I think sometimes today art doesn't speak out enough. And for me, that's where it always lives.

Tomas Vu's surfboards and other projects can be found at www.tomasvu.com.
An earlier interview between Sara Zielinski and Tomas Vu, conducted for Annual Magazine 6, can be found at www.annualartmagazine.com/issue/tomas-vu.

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Any Resemblance To Persons Living Or Dead

May 22, 2015, 9:26 am

≫ Next: Actors Equity and the Future of American Theater

≪ Previous: My Tomas Vu Interview

It's the end of a long day and, at last, you are in bed snuggling down with a book you hope will lull you into sleep. As you turn the pages you realise, with growing horror, that you are reading about yourself. Not only that, but this book is revealing things about you which you thought no one else knew. What a dreadful invasion of privacy that would be. I am ashamed to say it is an invasion I almost made on a dear friend of mine. Not quite, but very nearly. If I hadn't sent her a copy to read first. And if a publisher had been interested in publishing it.

It was my first novel and I suspect, like many first novels, was a little too autobiographical for its own good. I had described an incident very close to one from my adolescence involving a friend. As I was fine-tuning and polishing I began to think that publication might be a possibility. And yet I hadn't shown the book to my friend or indeed even told her I was writing it. If she read it I knew she would recognise herself. Why hadn't I thought about it before? I suppose I was caught up in the process, single-minded about finishing, selfish, thoughtless -- all attributes, or failings, considered useful if you want to be a writer. Once I had thought about it though, I sent it to her and waited. Nervous, anxious. I didn't want to hurt or offend her. Thankfully I did neither and she gave me her blessing. And, as it turned out, no publisher was interested in publishing it anyway, but it got me thinking. There's nothing like a bit of anxiety and shame to fuel creativity and so I came up with the idea for Disclaimer.

Hand on heart, Disclaimer is true to its title: any resemblance to persons living or dead is purely coincidental. There was no need to send out early copies to friends or family for approval. The events described in it are products of my imagination and I suspect that that is the difference between it succeeding in being published and my first novel being rejected.

It is complicated though, this notion of fiction. Writers become frustrated when readers assume their novels must, in some way, reflect their lives or the lives of people they know. I admit it irritates me. Writing fiction is the work of the imagination -- that is what writers do -- they make stuff up. Disclaimers are put in the front of books for good reason. But then... is it a little far-fetched to claim "any resemblance" and "purely coincidental"?. Most writers I know (and I include myself in this even given my past form) adhere to the belief that it is wrong to mine the lives of family and friends, but surely sometimes things can't help but spill over? Even unintentionally? Rather than be irritated, perhaps writers should be flattered when readers ask them whether a character is based on them or someone they know: they should see it as an indication of the work's authenticity. And yet it is hard not to see such questions as undermining creative endeavour. Is it really so hard to imagine that someone can make up a story that feels so real the reader thinks it must be based on actual events or people?

Perhaps this is why many writers are drawn to the work of Norwegian Karl Ove Knausgaard. He has grasped the nettle and, along with his family and friends, has flushed something else out into the open. Of course Knausgaard is not claiming his work is fiction, but his writing feels as if it comes from the same place, or at least, the place where good fiction should come from. Honesty, truth.

In the end of course, like a lot of things, it's about balance and judgement. I heard a writer on a recent radio programme proclaim that he would never use family or friends in his work. He was evangelical in his outrage at the idea. There was a line and he would never cross it. I heard him loud and clear. I also heard the gentle chuckle of another writer on the same programme. He responded by saying that for him writing was like bicycling downhill without any brakes -- exhilarating, scary -- knowing that you, the writer, would probably arrive at the bottom safely, but that there might be a few casualties on the way down. And then he roared with laughter. He was being mischievous, deliberately provocative yes, but I believe the essence of what he said is true and given the choice, I know which of those two writers I would rather read.

Renée Knight is the author of the debut thriller Disclaimer (Harper, May 19, 2015).

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Actors Equity and the Future of American Theater

May 22, 2015, 10:09 am

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This week, the membership of Actors Equity, the union of American stage actors, voted to oust an incumbent president - virtually unprecedented in the history of the organization. The ouster was the result of an organized revolt by actors in Los Angeles, who have been fighting Equity's efforts to gut LA's vibrant intimate theater scene. While the election is the first step in a long battle, it may significantly impact the future of American theater.

Actors Equity has a long and proud history of championing the rights of actors, beginning in 1913 when it was founded by a courageous group of a few hundred actors. The union has been in the forefront of the struggle for civil rights and freedom of expression, notably during the McCarthy era when it refused to ban blacklisted performers. However, as the LA battle illustrates, Equity has at least temporarily lost its way.

As far back as the 1950's and '60's, when the burgeoning Off-Broadway and Off-Off-Broadway movements were spawning a generation of playwrights, directors and actors who would dominate the next generation of American theater, as well as film and television, the seeds of the future have been planted in storefronts, basements and church halls where actors not only perform, but build sets, sew costumes and staff the box office. They devote their time - inevitably without pay - not only because they love the theater, but also because they want a chance to experiment, to test their creative wings and to dream beyond the boundaries of commercial theater.

While Equity has sometimes been resistant to these grassroots movements - as they were initially to Off and Off-Off-Broadway - it has also been instrumental in helping these movements to grow and blossom. In the case of New York, Equity came to recognize the importance of nurturing new theater companies and carved out a number of exceptions to its strict union rules to permit actors to work in non-commercial theater. This, in turn, led to a vital and prolific theater scene in New York that produced many of the most significant plays and theater companies of the twentieth century.

There is no doubt that Actors Equity has a vital role to play in American theater in the 21st century, much as it did throughout the 20th century. However, if it wants to preserve its vital role it must change its vision of the future, as well as the manner in which it pursues that vision. Its heavy-handed approach to the Los Angeles theater community reveals serious flaws both in Equity's vision of the future and its ability to implement any vision at all. From the beginning, Equity misread the sentiment of its LA membership - perhaps out of a myopic view of LA theater - or simply out of ignorance. To compound the problem, Equity ham-handled the rollout of their proposal, turning what may have been intended as an opening gambit for discussion into a dictat from an uncaring union.

Hopefully, the union leadership has learned its lesson after the open revolt of LA membership and the ouster of an incumbent president. Ironically, the bungled rollout of Equity's LA theater proposal may have strengthened the hand of other insurgent groups in New York, Chicago and other cities, who would like to see a more progressive approach to their small theater scene. New York's Showcase Code is in many respects more restrictive than LA's, and actors in Chicago small theaters are in an even worse situation. As actor Chris Agos wrote in his book about the Chicago acting scene "The overwhelming majority of live theater in Chicago is happening in storefront spaces and being done by actors who aren't affiliated with AEA. Audiences will see innovative, powerful performances in these theaters, but they simply can't afford to pay their actors a living wage."

Far from killing off LA's intimate theater scene, Equity may have spawned a national movement to follow LA's lead. As in any adventurous endeavor, the quality of Los Angeles theater varies wildly from the groundbreaking and inspiring to the narcissistic and pedestrian. However, the same can be said of the early days of Off and Off-Off-Broadway. This is the nature of the theater, of creativity and of change. Whatever one's view of the LA theater scene, it is indisputably one of the most vital theater communities in the country, if not the world, and could certainly serve as a model for the future. At this important turning point in its proud and storied history, Equity has the opportunity to provide leadership for the next century of American theater. Let us hope that it will step up and embrace that opportunity.

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The Gekkopod: My New Favorite Photography Accessory

May 22, 2015, 11:36 am

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Photo Courtesy of Zuckerim

Accessories are a photographer's best buddy in the field. From filters to tripods to camera bags, there are so many to choose from, and figuring out what works best for your needs can be daunting. I learned this recently when I started a YouTube series titled "In the Field with Heather Hummel Photography" where I walk viewers through the shot being captured and the settings used. It has been a lot of fun taking my audience into the field with me. My iPhone captures great videos; the only problem was trying to set it up where it would stay stable while recording the in-the-field footage! My short-term solution was to hold the iPhone myself and video the scene before me. This worked as a good solution because viewers can see the scene through my eyes. However, I like to connect with my viewers on a personal level and by my not being in the scene, I felt a bit disconnected. That is until I discovered the Gekkopod!

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Photo Credit: Heather Hummel Photography

I've written about the importance of using a tripod in low light photography, and now I have to share my new favorite accessory in the tripod division. The Gekkopod. Developed by Zuckerim, this cool, five-legged handy gadget has quickly become my go-to accessory for my iPhone when I use it to video record the "In the Field with Heather Hummel Photography" series.

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Photo Credit: Heather Hummel Photography

What I love about the Gekkopod, and although I have only had it for a short while, is that I am discovering countless uses for it. I use it as a simple stand for my iPhone, whether on my desk or nightstand. As a cyclist, I can wrap it around my handlebars, keeping my iPhone in view as I use the AllSport app, my speed and mileage et al tracker. Other athletes, especially those with GoPros, can take it on the run, bike, hike, or paddle with them and be able to capture their moments without needing someone else to take the shot or without having to outstretch an arm. Which brings me to one of the best aspects...the Gekkopod eliminates the need for the typical selfie, whether taken with an arm or a stick (which still often requires an outstretched arm to use it). Instead, with the Gekkopod, I can stand it up on a surface or wrap it around a branch or pole a few or several feet away. Then, I set the self-timer on the Camera app and within a few to ten seconds I have a natural looking shot without a bicep taking up half of the frame!

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Photo Credit: Heather Hummel Photography

Weighing in at just 50-grams, I can clip the Gekkopod to my camera bag or wrap it around my tripod while trekking to my shoot without adding hardly any weight at all. The Gekkopod fits all popular smartphones. I have the iPhone 5s and it snaps in perfectly. There are also a few add-on adapters that allow me to swivel and turn the iPhone from horizontal to vertical, and anywhere in between, allowing for a variety of shots or to accommodate awkward angles. For example, if I'm shooting a video on a hiking trail and wrap the Gekkopod around a tree limb, I can adjust the swivel to make the iPhone as level as I need it during a shoot.

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Photo Credit: Heather Hummel Photography

As I shoot new footage for the "In the Field with Heather Hummel" series, I will be using the Gekkopod to ensure my ability to be in the shot. While I'm on my bike rides, I'll be using it to stabilize my iPhone as I track my success for each mileage covered. While at my desk writing my next book, one of which is due to my publisher in ten days, I'll use the Gekkopod as a stand to hold my iPhone next to my laptop. The next time I Skype with a client, I'll also use it as a stand. The uses are countless, and this five-legged gadget will surely go on a lot of photography adventures with this photographer.

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Art & Business

May 22, 2015, 12:28 pm

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"The purpose of art is washing the dust of daily life off our souls" ~ Pablo Picasso (Spanish Painter, Sculptor 1881-1973)

Art is important to society, any society through the ages ﾅ combining art and business is not new. Think of the centuries where art and business were very much part of the citizen's world. There were the royal courts who paid for, promoted and gave the arts a grand platform or of the Medici of Italy (14th to 18th centuries) or the maligned, then beheaded royals of France (10th to 19th centuries) they all created art, luxuries and businesses never seen before, which are valued to this day.

Today we seek beauty and have great philanthropies and organizations which give the arts a platform for a broader audience, never seen in its power and influence before. We now observe the merger of art and business in an environment enjoyed by millions in all corners of the globe. Shining a spotlight on art and cultural relationships and business provides a better understanding between people of diverse nations. The quest for better communications through the arts help define businesses. By associating with the arts, businesses have discovered that their brands are enhanced and increase their reach and in the end their profitability. With the mantra of 'behind every art-form is a great visionary leader', this would include the business of pursuing excellence in products and service, prestigious organizations and venues report great results.

Heidi Steiger, President of Topridge Associates, expresses her perspective on the increasing importance of art and business:

"I have always thought the business and art worlds should work closely together. The arts can bring progress to the world of business - by thinking, looking and acting outside-of-the-box. After all, mankind has been communicating in pictures since the dawn of the caveman. We have an overwhelming need to document, remember, and comment on the world in which we live. My most significant experience of this was managing the art collection at Neuberger Berman while I was also leading its private wealth management business. A number of my partners and I collected contemporary art. The rule was that art was on public walls and not in our offices. Asset management is a very intellectual pursuit, but art made us more approachable and human to our clients. It said we cared about them and that we viewed the world through a different lens which provided us with insightful ideas resulting in good performance in their portfolios."

Greg Furman, Chairman and CEO of Luxury Marketing Council, has observed the many changes in the field of luxury for more than twenty years. His expert opinion is shared by many
"As the disparity between 'the have' and 'the have nots' continues to widen, public, government and media scrutiny are increasingly critical, and all luxury brands' involvement in the community will dramatically increase. More than ever luxury brands must be involved, and seen as being involved, as outstanding corporate citizens; not as disengaged, haughty, removed purveyors of luxury products and services to the elite one percent with no concern for the bigger picture and larger community. As never before it is imperative for luxury brands to more tastefully and aggressively promote their involvement in the arts. Creativity and bottom-line-driven understanding are essential to maintaining and enhancing
the luxury brand's reputation."

It is said that beautiful objects in art, in design, in furniture, in fashion, in poetry are all an extension of the human spirit's need and search for beauty. Art takes us through the tunnel of life to lightness and joy. The patronage of the arts also fulfill the dreams on every level of life and it is significant now and for future generations. The strong reputation and joint goals of art and business have gone through periods of challenge and growth. Artistic disciplines combined with business acumen address the complex and ever-changing needs of building robust arts and business communities with ever greater success.

" I do not want art for a few any more than education for a few or freedom for a few" ~ William Morris (English artist, poet 1834-1896)

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Orgone at Underground Arts: Just Like Good Times

May 22, 2015, 12:49 pm

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Philadelphia - The room was called "The Black Box", which was self explanatory, save for the red velvet curtain separating the stage area from a lounging space, complete with giant Oriental rug and deep sectional sofas. It reminded me of the so-called venues I'd frequented as a college student, but in only the good ways. Three days prior was the first time I'd even heard of Orgone, a jazzy, funky, soul outfit hailing from Los Angeles, and I literally only took notice because their promotional poster featured a great photo, with the lead singer's resplendant afro bouncing while frozen in mid-jump. A sucker for an afro-ed woman, I made my way to the venue, Underground Arts, having done a cursory amount of research and listening to the band's Soundcloud page in advance. I even donned a black t-shirt emblazoned with an image of Fela Kuti because I thought that would be apropos for the night. If I ever meet the photographer who made the photo used for that promotional poster, I owe them a hearty thanks, because my instincts were proven correct.

Prepared as I was, I knew this would be a dance filled night. The crowd, which slowly filtered in and tentatively received the excellent opening act, Sophistafunk, had to be cajoled forward through their self-imposed semi-circle force field keeping them from the stage. The warming up didn't take long, though. The quartet's infectious and groovy songs, with their MC/vocalist's pattering rhymes made for a welcoming party starter. The talent buyers made a wise choice with Sophistafunk. Having toured with Orgone for the prior two weeks, it wasn't necessary to remove their instruments from the stage between sets. A five minute, smile filled break preceded the headliners, who bounded onto the stage as if answering a challenge. This is when my decision to attend the show was instantly rewarded. They opened their set with a burning instrumental called Meat Machine", which falls midpoint into their new album, Beyond The Sun. It's a fitting announcement, and full of confidence. Having yet to see the band live, this introduction was funky from the gate - driving percussion, stabbing synths, searing guitar, et al., the tone was set for what was to come. Let me slow down first.

One of the most enduring memories of my childhood is of the famous painting by Ernie Barnes called "Sugar Shack". It's the one that appears during the opening and closing credits of the now classic television show, Good Times. Elongated bodies snaked and contorted around each other as they danced mesmerized by whatever music the painting captured, and the viewer simply wishes to be there. The scene conveys a comfort within the confines of a very crowded room - a comfort in the closeness of companionship and communal enjoyment of the moment. It's hot. It's funky. it's sensual. Enter Adryon De Leon. Tall, golden haired, and broadly smiling, the room was hers in that instant. As the crowd is already an hour plus into their cardio program, they may have missed the nod to the Philadelphian duo, Zhane, as she belted into a funkier, meatier rendition of "Hey Mr. DJ", their stalwart hit from the early nineties. But that's easily excused as this wasn't an excercise in music academia (though it was a treat for those paying attention). Apparently, an Orgone show is a funk party, plain and simple, and the band's sole ambition to get down, by getting the crowd off. I looked around the room and the best, yet most blunt way I can describe the dynamic is that the whole crowd, the band (and maybe the bartenders, too) had their faces fixed in the expressions of good lovemaking. I think that is also how one defines the funk, too (at least some of us do). The groove is so hard it looks like it smells bad. Afterwards I explained that idea to the boyish looking bass player, Dale Jennings, who concurred that the band members feel the same thing on stage. He related that the sounds and energies emanating from all of the players on a tight crowded stage feel as if being hugged the whole time - almost as if in that famous Ernie Barnes painting.

My conversation with Dale did turn to music academia, though, of course. I mentioned to him that I noticed the band's nod to the obscure Larry Levan edit of The Clash song, "The Magnificent Dance", which they'd snuck into a cover of "It's Serious" by Cameo. Being the bass player, I'd assumed he was responsible, since the bassline is most prominent and recognizeable. He was, in part. The original Orgon bassist, Tim Glum had played it on the studio recording, but as a fan of The Clash's bass player, Paul Simonon, Dale opted to play the live version using a Fender P Bass and Ampeg SVT, as he had seen Simonon play. The whole outfit is made up of music nerds, as it turned out, and that explained their deep knowledge and proficiency. Each player was also afforded opportunities to solo, as if necessary to convince the crowd this band had chops. By this point, it wasn't. It had been made abundantly clear. Listening the night before, I believed that much of what I'd heard would have been right at home on Larry Levan's mid to late eighties Paradise Garage playlist. I mentioned to Dale and their keyboardist, Dan Hastie, one song in particular, "Keep The Fire Burnin'", which sounded like a proto-typical dance song. It turned out to be a cover of a song originally recorded by Gwen McCrae - another Levan favorite. I mention all of this because, as a DJ, Levan was hugely influential in New York, and beyond, and many of the songs and styles we listen and dance to today were fostered on his turntables. The closing song, "Love Maker", which turned into a call and response jam, sounded like a reworking of a Betty Davis song which I can't put a name to, but it, too, was funk hewn from the earth. The music nerd in me recognized those influences in Orgone, and those sounds, those grooves are as elemental to partying as anything in my life experience.

It's important to note that, while the band slips in some covers and nods in their set, there are plenty of original compositions - all equally accessible and fun, and the players are all stacked with charisma. The afro-ed Adryon sang and left, leaving the stage to burn up some more under the feet of the instrumentalists, nearly charring the floor in front of them, then returning to encore with "I Get Lifted" by KC and The Sunshine Band, which is a guaranteed crowd rouser, no matter where they are. I can't say enough about how fortuitous it was for me seeing that poster and following my gut. Everyone should be so lucky.

Beyond The Sun was released two weeks ago. Orgone will continue to tour, making dates throughout the west coast this summer.

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Conversation with Artist Micki Pellerano

May 22, 2015, 1:05 pm

≫ Next: Reflections on Five Years of Blogging on HuffPost Arts & Culture

≪ Previous: Orgone at Underground Arts: Just Like Good Times

On the occasion of my friend Micki Pellerano's solo show at American Medium in Brooklyn, I spoke to him about the things that matter to him: drawing, growing down, experiencing pain, pop music and of course love.

Below is an excerpt from a rather long talk I had with Micki exclusively for Huffington Post readers. There are plans to release the entire conversation among some of my other conversations in book form later this year.
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MP: There's this book The Soul's Code written by a psychoanalyst named James Hillman. He talks about this Socratic theory stating that before you're born, there's this ethereal being - Socrates called it your 'daemon' - who determines that your precise incarnation is the best suited for it to unleash its supernatural purpose into the world. It chooses you and your life as a vehicle. The book is about doing service to that.

There's this chapter he calls "Growing Down" - how if you're especially good at channeling this daemon energy, sometimes it requires adjustments to the confines of terrestrial existence. Like you have trouble with things like social norms or societal structure because this energy is coming out of you all the time. Then he talks about Judy Garland for example and, you know, how she had trouble being a mere mortal because she was this total beast.

I mean I'm no Judy Garland, but I sort of feel it's time to grow down.

MN: (laughs) I don't think you could be normal if you tried. You conforming is a funny idea to me, it's comical.

MP: I think a degree of it is necessary if you want to be an effective artist. Joseph Campbell explores that very idea - comparing the bodhisattva to the artist. Someone who achieves this transcendental realization and then they choose to come back, and share what they have obtained with their race. And the bodhisattva has to conform to the desires of his socio-economic climate in such a way where his message will still resonate to his world.

MN: I think every artist has to wrestle with this in some way. Every once in a while you find a Warhol or a Bowie who figures it out. How they can be pop but also be scary and be all these things that speak to the animal inside you. Little Richard does it effectively. He speaks to the Lucifer inside you, but he makes it sound like lollipops.

MP: Yeah that goes for a lot of pop music in general. Except I think things are different now, and pop culture has been sanitized of its daemons. People don't like that anymore.

MN: I wonder why? Pop music functions best when it's not self aware, when it's channeling something really evil under an unsuspecting guise.

MP: Well even 60's girl groups. The Crystals, the Shangri-La's. That music is all about death and destruction. All these harsh, painful realities and yet it was done so sweetly and palatably that people were really responsive to it. I love 60's girl groups, it's one of my favorite genres.

MN: Me too.

MP: And that's precisely why: the contrast between the childish naiveté and this sinister violence, masochism, codependency, abuse. It's all so adolescent but so painfully real. Maybe we are all adolescents when it comes to falling in love.

MN: That's what makes the cute aspect of pop so effective.
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MP: I think this latest body of work is about embracing that wild, you might say pubescent, rage and channeling it in the service of the daemon. The show's title, Celestial Love, is the name of a poem by Emerson, whom I didn't know until recently. There are a lot of explicit references to alchemy in his poems, and transmuting pain into personal evolution. Sublimating it into something that makes you feel vivid and alive.

MN: He's a transcendentalist, right? Makes sense. Your work seems very experiential to me.

MP: I actually think it's been helping me grow down, exploring my own experience as a human among other humans. Alchemy is about eroding the things that hold back the daemon. If I can sense spiritually "Whoa, this is changing, this is dying, something's boiling up so that a new substance can emerge." I need to be sure that that energy is channeled is not just squandered. Consolidating something like that into a drawing is really helpful to divert that energy into a specific goal. And it's universal because everyone is going through these processes in their own way.

I'm lucky to say that I've tasted love in this immeasurable, magnificent capacity. If you surrender to that and really let yourself live it, even if it's almost unbearable, it's a huge gift. I feel so stoked on my psychic experiences as of late. And the people and the poets who brought them about. I've done my best in my feeble way to put across how I see and experience that kind of immensity. It's not an easy thing to render.

Like when your heart breaks it's an interesting phenomenon. It separates you from one person, but then it unites you with this ocean of other people, who are experiencing life and its pain right along with you. That's why those sentiments are so resonant in our pop songs!

MN: Pop music is the ultimate vehicle for transmuting pain because it reaches so many people, it's almost like a religion.

MP: Anything that chips away at your limited view of yourself and opens your eyes to the immensity of what you really are can be called a religion of some sort. The real enemy is within. And so is the real guru. When you're free of your self-imposed limitations, that's when you can manifest your true life purpose. That's freedom.

People hold the government responsible for taking their liberties away, but no government really has the power to do that. Or people think "the government is watching." I mean, I would feel really special if the government were using their precious time and resources just to watch me, or read my email.

We like to see the oppressor as something outside of us but really it's inside. The trick is to let the daemon slay the oppressor. Just like Little Richard did.
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You can see Mr. Pellerano's exhibition of drawings at:

American Medium
424 Gates Ave.
Brooklyn, NY 11216

It's running now through June 6, 2015
*all images courtesy of the artist.

-- This feed and its contents are the property of The Huffington Post, and use is subject to our terms. It may be used for personal consumption, but may not be distributed on a website.

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Reflections on Five Years of Blogging on HuffPost Arts & Culture

May 24, 2015, 11:48 am

≫ Next: You've Got Me Under Your Spell

≪ Previous: Conversation with Artist Micki Pellerano

The past few weeks have been busy, so an important career milestone almost slipped by with my having noticed: May 13th was my "Five Year Blogaversary." On that date in 2010 my first blog appeared on The Huffington Post. Titled "Picasso's Recession-Proof Harem," it appeared on HuffPost's New York section, as the Arts page hadn't opened yet. HuffPost Arts -- now HuffPost Arts & Culture -- officially opened a month later, on June 15, 2010, under the direction of its amazing founding editor, artist Kimberly Brooks.

"Picasso's Recession-Proof Harem" was the first of a total of 259 blogs (this one included) that I have posted over a five-year span. That means I have averaged just under a blog a week over time. When I started, I had absolutely no idea that I was capable of writing so much or so often. Blogging has been a huge surprise for me: It has been a life-transforming experience and a door-opener.

Ex-voto painting by Matthew Couper

Matthew Couper's wonderful ex-voto painting, sent to me as a gift early in 2011, does a great job of capturing the spirit world of my newfound avocation. Seated productively at my computer, I'm connected by a grid of red circuitry to Mat Gleason -- another early HuffPost Arts blogger -- and also to an all-seeing eye, and to a painting by my mentor, the late Nathan Oliveira. A head by Jean-Michel Basquiat -- an art world frenemy from many years ago -- rises over the floor tiles to my left, while my journalistic patron saintess, Arianna Huffington, raises a knowing eyebrow to my right. Christ, crucified for art, adds an additional touch of religiosity and devotion to the tableau.

At work in my office

Matthew's painting captures some of the imaginative and psychological forces that surround my interest in writing. A photo of me at work in my real office shows some interesting correspondences. I do spend a great deal of time leaning over my laptop, and a work by Nathan Oliveira -- one of his "Tauromaquia" monotypes -- does hang in front of me as I write. A large model plane that I built and put too much work into to actually fly hangs over my head, a reminder of a hobby of the past. The energy that I used to put into making things seems to all go into writing these days. After recently re-organizing a bookshelf in my office to contain all of the catalogs and books I have contributed to over the past few years, all the effort suddenly seemed tangible.

Art catalogs and books

The following list contains some reflections, notes and comments from five years of blogging:

A few things I have learned:

Every word matters. You never know who is reading your blog. Every blog is important.

My favorite quote from an artist:

"The bravest thing in the world is to take a position without a pre-planned fall back."

- Kyle Staver quoted in "A Brother Honored"

My favorite reader comment:

"Read it. Excellent. Loved the Mao."

Steve Martin responding to my blog "I Don't Deconstruct" on Twitter.

Blogging is different from other kinds of writing:

You wake up in the morning, drink your coffee, and blog about what you want to write about in the way that you want to.

Blogging is truly social:

I have never had so many friends. Oh, and a few frenemies too...

Something I need to do again:

The "Paintings and Palettes" and "Studio Visit" blogs were a lot of work, but a lot of fun too.

Click here for one...

A common misconception.

I have written predominantly about representational painters. For that reason, some people have come to think that I don't care for other types of art. That isn't true. I write about representational painting because there is simply so much good work out there that hasn't gotten the attention that it deserves.

Humor is important:

You can say things with humor that you can't say another other way. A list of my satires can be found at this link.

I'm often asked if I have a favorite artist:

Yes, it is the artist I am writing about at any given moment.

Artists need to have their stories told:

Interviewing artists has allowed me let artists tell their stories. An index of the 75 interviews I have conducted since 2010 can be found on my personal website.

http://www.johnseed.com/p/interviews.html

Some Acknowledgements:

I owe a great deal of thanks to Arianna Huffington, Kimberly Brooks, Kathleen Massara and Katherine Brooks (my editors). I owe even more to my wife Linda who has supported me, even when I have been writing when there is laundry that needs folding.

To my readers:

Thank you for reading. There is a lot left to write... more blogs are on the way.

-- This feed and its contents are the property of The Huffington Post, and use is subject to our terms. It may be used for personal consumption, but may not be distributed on a website.

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