No, that's not a typo. It is "Hillywood." Which is a thriving creative movie-making center set in the hills of Rwanda--hills, as this inspiring documentary shows, whose astonishing beauty stands in stark contrast to the country's all-too-familiar recent tragic history. How, we wonder as we watch this footage, could such a travesty of all that's good and beautiful have happened here? It's a question we repeat to ourselves constantly through Leah Warshawski's hour-long film as we watch the faces of the Rwandan men, women and children, whose radiant beauty rivals that of the land in which they live.

Finding Hillywood is a film about the redemptive power of the creative spirit; about forgiveness and restitution, about acknowledging the past and learning to shape the future. The dreadful history of the genocide is never far from the surface. The film's story tracks its main character, Ayuub, a man racked with regret and guilt for his absence from his native country at the time of the genocide, for having failed to save his mother from the slaughter, and having for a while abandoned his obligation to his wife and five sons as he sought release in alcohol.

He is pulled back from the brink, first, by a minor film crew job on the making of "The Last King of Scotland." Falling in love with film, Ayuub decides that this, against all probability, will be his life's calling--and finds Hillywood, an organization devoted to the support and promotion of the work of Rwandan filmmakers. We follow them from village to village, despite all obstacles, braving tropical heat and rainstorms to set up their inflatable screen and delight rapt audiences with their films. Many have never seen a film before; all are inspired with pride in the achievements of their compatriots, and share in the healing they bring to the still-raw wound of fratricidal violence and hatred.

"Finding Hillywood" observes all this with a sympathetic documentary eye. It honors the courage and tenacity of a people ravaged by genocide, and their profound humanity. It dwells unabashedly on the beauty of the children, their eyes aglow with wonder, their faces shining. It revels in the lush colors of the landscape, the rich fall of rain, the slow flow of red rivers. It asks, always beneath a surface of joy and celebration: how could it happen here? And, more importantly even than that question, it reminds us that the human spirit is boundless in its capacity for redemption, and that it is our creativity that provides us with the means.

Adventures of Huckleberry Finn: "A book of mine where a sound heart and a deformed conscience come into collision and conscience suffers defeat." -Mark Twain

Recently, in Concord, New Hampshire, I saw Hal Holbrook perform in "Mark Twain Tonight!" I've lost count of the number of times I've seen Holbrook perform this one-man show, but it's been more than a few. Last year, for instance, I saw him in San Diego, Nashville, Long Island, and Morristown, NJ.

Okay, so I might be a groupie.

No two performances are alike. Holbrook's vast repertoire allows him to draw upon thousands of pages of Twain's writing to comment on current events, occasionally confusing audience members who are unaware of Twain's ever relevant commentary. Always flawless, Holbrook's most recent performance dropped my jaw. It was simply his best. Using Mark Twain's words, he commented on every current event from Wall Street to gun violence to evolution to Congress. And more.

Like Twain, Holbrook is a legend in his own time. He could rest on his laurels or get by reciting the same passages again and again. After all, Twain's words ring true and powerful, and how many people actually see the show more than once or twice in a lifetime? But, no, that's not Holbrook's way. He is a true Twain scholar -- reading, researching, and rehearsing, and a great actor, unlike others who think wearing a white suit and fake mustache while speaking in an exaggerated drawl are all it takes to portray "the Lincoln of our literature."

Nope. Holbrook is the real deal. He continues to add lengthy, enticing, thoughtful, even disturbing passages to his act. Oh, you'll laugh. This is Mark Twain, after all. But I predict you'll also squirm, wonder, think, and likely cry, especially with the new material Holbrook has unleashed from Adventures of Huckleberry Finn.

I've been rereading Huckleberry Finn since I discovered it as the sequel to Tom Sawyer back in junior high school, getting more out of it with each encounter. Hearing Hal Holbrook last Friday inspired me to share a few keepers. But let these be the teasers. Better you should read (or reread) Huck Finn, and go see Hal Holbrook. And be sure to find me in the audience and say hello.

Words of wisdom from Adventures of Huckleberry Finn:

CONSCIENCE That's just the way: a person does a low-down thing, and then he don't want to take no consequences of it. Thinks as long as he can hide, it ain't no disgrace. That was my fix exactly. The more I studied about this the more my conscience went to grinding me, and the more wicked and low-down and ornery I got to feeling.

CONSCIENCE ...it don't make no difference whether you do right or wrong, a person's conscience ain't got no sense, and just goes for him anyway... It takes up more room than all the rest of a person's insides...

CURING LONESOMENESS When it was dark I set by my camp fire smoking, and feeling pretty well satisfied; but by and by it got sort of lonesome, and so I went and set on the bank and listened to the current swashing along, and counted the stars and drift logs and rafts that come down, and then went to bed; there ain't no better way to put in time when you are lonesome; you can't stay so, you soon get over it.

CURIOSITY I was just a-biling with curiosity; and I says to myself, Tom Sawyer wouldn't back out now, and so I won't either; I'm a-going to see what's going on here.

DO GOODERS But take it all around, I was feeling ruther comfortable on accounts of taking all this trouble for that gang, for not many would a done it. I wished the widow knowed about it. I judged she would be proud of me for helping these rapscallions, because rapscallions and dead beats is the kind the widow and good people takes the most interest in.

DRINKING I'd druther been bit with a snake than pap's whisky.

FRAUDS It didn't take me long to make up my mind that these liars warn't no kings nor dukes at all, but just low-down humbugs and frauds. But I never said nothing, never let on; kept it to myself; it's the best way; then you don't have no quarrels, and don't get into no trouble. If they wanted us to call them kings and dukes, I hadn't no objections, 'long as it would keep peace in the family; and it warn't no use to tell Jim, so I didn't tell him. If I never learnt nothing else out of pap, I learnt that the best way to get along with his kind of people is to let them have their own way.

GOOD DEED Pap always said, take a chicken when you get a chance, because if you don't want him yourself you can easy find somebody that does, and a good deed ain't ever forgot. I never see pap when he didn't want the chicken himself, but that is what he used to say, anyway.

INNER CONFLICT My conscience got to stirring me up hotter than ever, until at last I says to it, "Let up on me -- it ain't too late yet - I'll paddle ashore at the first light and tell." I felt easy and happy and light as a feather right off. All my troubles was gone.

JUSTICE The first light we see we'll land a hundred yards below it or above it, in a place where it's a good hiding-place for you and the skiff, and then I'll go and fix up some kind of a yarn, and get somebody to go for that gang and get them out of their scrape, so they can be hung when their time comes.

LIES You can't pray a lie -- I found that out.

LITTLE THINGS It was only a little thing to do, and no trouble; and it's the little things that smooths people's roads the most...

MAJORITY Hain't we got all the fools in town on our side? And ain't that a big enough majority in any town?

PEER PRESSURE "Do you reckon Tom Sawyer would ever go by this thing? Not for pie, he wouldn't. He'd call it an adventure -- that's what he'd call it."

PERSPECTIVE I went to sleep, and Jim didn't call me when it was my turn. He often done that. When I waked up just at daybreak he was sitting there with his head down betwixt his knees, moaning and mourning to himself. I didn't take notice nor let on. I knowed what it was about. He was thinking about his wife and his children, away up yonder, and he was low and homesick; because he hadn't ever been away from home before in his life; and I do believe he cared just as much for his people as white folks does for their'n. It don't seem natural, but I reckon it's so.

ROYALTY Well, that's what I'm a-saying; all kings is mostly rapscallions, as fur as I can make out.

SELF-SACRIFICE It was a close place. I took it up, and held it in my hand. I was a-trembling, because I'd got to decide, forever, betwixt two things, and I knowed it. I studied a minute, sort of holding my breath, and then says to myself:

"All right, then, I'll go to hell" -- and tore it up.

It was awful thoughts and awful words, but they was said. And I let them stay said; and never thought no more about reforming. I shoved the whole thing out of my head, and said I would take up wickedness again, which was in my line, being brung up to it, and the other warn't. And for a starter I would go to work and steal Jim out of slavery again; and if I could think up anything worse, I would do that, too; because as long as I was in, and in for good, I might as well go the whole hog.

STYLE I felt very good; I judged I had done it pretty neat -- I reckoned Tom Sawyer couldn't a done it no neater himself. Of course he would a throwed more style into it, but I can't do that very handy, not being brung up to it.

THRIFT I went to the circus and loafed around the back side till the watchman went by, and then dived in under the tent. I had my twenty-dollar gold piece and some other money, but I reckoned I better save it, because there ain't no telling how soon you are going to need it, away from home and amongst strangers that way. You can't be too careful. I ain't opposed to spending money on circuses when there ain't no other way, but there ain't no use in wasting it on them.

TRAINING They went off and I got aboard the raft, feeling bad and low, because I knowed very well I had done wrong, and I see it warn't no use for me to try to learn to do right; a body that don't get started right when he's little ain't got no show -- when the pinch comes there ain't nothing to back him up and keep him to his work, and so he gets beat. Then I thought a minute, and says to myself, hold on; s'pose you'd a done right and give Jim up, would you felt better than what you do now? No, says I, I'd feel bad -- I'd feel just the same way I do now. Well, then, says I, what's the use you learning to do right when it's troublesome to do right and ain't no trouble to do wrong, and the wages is just the same? I was stuck. I couldn't answer that. So I reckoned I wouldn't bother no more about it, but after this always do whichever come handiest at the time.

TRASH...trash is what people is dat puts dirt on de head er dey fren's en makes 'em ashamed. (Jim to Huck)

TRUTH ...don't ask me nothing -- then I won't have to tell no lies.

UNINFORMED OPINIONS That is just the way with some people. They get down on a thing when they don't know nothing about it.

VALUE He was the innocentest, best old soul I ever see. But it warn't surprising; because he warn't only just a farmer, he was a preacher, too, ...and never charged nothing for his preaching, and it was worth it, too.

WHITE LIES Letting on don't cost nothing; letting on ain't no trouble...

WIDE OPEN SPACES We said there warn't no home like a raft, after all. Other places do seem so cramped up and smothery, but a raft don't. You feel mighty free and easy and comfortable on a raft.

All photos courtesy of Mark Twain House

The Berkeley Repertory Theatre, dedicated to provocation, has produced an excellent version of Nina Raine's Tribes. It might appear to be a play about an "issue," deafness in this instance. But it is a drama about the subject of drama since Greek tragedy, which is our inability to communicate with one another. Whether you speak or sign, you are likely to leave the show with something to say about it.

The set up is ingenious. The two protagonists, Billy and Sylvia, are mirror images who perforce fall for each other.

The opening scene introduces a family so engrossed with themselves and their words that they would be despicable if they were not hilarious. The opinionated life is not worth living: This clan is so garrulous, by their scale the merely talkative may as well be mute. The father is a literary critic; the mother, a would-be mystery novelist; the eldest son, a graduate student stalled on his thesis in linguistics; the daughter, a novice opera singer appearing in English translations; and the youngest son, Billy, seemingly sullen at the dinner table until it is revealed he is alone among them in being deaf. Consistent with the father's bombastic if not dictatorial tendencies, he has protected his progeny from what he denigrates as the cult of big-D Deafness, meaning sign language and everything else it symbolizes.

The moving force arrives in the form of Sylvia. She is a CODA, Child of Deaf Adults. While she is hearing, she has inherited a progressive loss of the sense. Unlike Billy, however, she is fluent in American Sign Language (ASL) and moves within Deaf Culture. (The play is set in England, but it is ASL rather than British Sign Language in use here. The discrepancy will be overlooked by 99 percent of the audience, who likely do not know that ASL is related to French Sign Language and not British Sign Language.)

Even as his adult siblings boomerang back into the family home, to the chagrin of their elders, Billy moves out. Sylvia becomes his guide to an independence he never even dreamed of. Ironically, the first job he finds depends on his skill as a lip-reader. He becomes some sort of law enforcement expert witness explicating surveillance videos of criminal activity (for which there is no soundtrack).

The plot avoids being didactic, because Raine has given herself an advantage. Her characters are naturally argumentative. They are the type of people who would use the word "discourse." Their debates are as realistic as any debate among academics.

The moral of the story at a superficial level is that it is not deafness which prevents an individual from leading a life complete; it is the lack of communications. The cause of the problem is less a physical handicap than a societal disregard -- in this instance, a familial fault. Everyone loves Billy, but they love him as a mascot.

Most deaf people are born to hearing parents. Billy's family wants to hold on to him; they do not want him to leave, even in the literal sense of preferring he stay at home. Hearing people may not appreciate the same desire on the part of deaf parents. They also may well want to have children who resemble them. Raine has explained she was inspired by the controversy over such a case, to write her script.

Yet matters are more complex. Deaf culture is not spared. It is described from a distance as insular and paranoid, displaying its own hierarchy that inverts the mainstream (to be deaf born of deaf parents is the best, to be hearing is the worst). All that is glimpsed of it comes from Sylvia as an interpreter. She would rather be hearing, because she has grown up so.

The conclusion resolves this conflict of assimilation with one of many potential outcomes. While Billy turns out to be imperfect, perhaps he should be forgiven for what is disclosed as his failing: from his perspective, his choices all follow from what has come before. Sylvia cannot stay; she must adjust to her own new identity.

The least sympathetic character is the imperious patriarch -- said not to be modeled on the author's well-known forebear. He denies the possibilities for the deaf to be equal, and the assertion makes itself true. For someone who has always been deaf, the absence of the ability to hear is no more a disability than for those of us who are hearing but lack, say, a sense of sonar. We miss nothing that we care about. We would dismiss anyone who claimed superiority for possessing such a skill.

He has it backwards with his fear that the deaf who are proud to have formed a community thereby define themselves by it. Among those who all share such a characteristic, it ceases to be essential and no longer distinguishes anybody. People are better able to assert themselves as individuals.

The Berkeley Rep has done what is right in casting. They selected a deaf actor, James Caverly, as Billy, rather than engage in what has been dubbed "disability drag," the equivalent of blackface. Caverly previously inhabited the role in Boston and Washington, D.C.

In Tribes, the deaf come off better than the hearing, though nobody escapes their sense of self-importance. The story works because it uses the particular to show the universal. To the contrary of the Anna Karenina principle (happy families are all alike; every unhappy family is unhappy in its own way), Tribes suggests that there are no happy families and unhappy families are unhappy because of an innate inability to understand one another. We are all the same in our solipsism. Nobody understands anybody else.

Is art worth killing for?

Woody Allen's new Broadway musical Bullets Over Broadway, an entertaining romp, thinks so. Based on his 1994 movie, with zippy direction by Susan Stroman, the musical comedy is fun. It's not quite the over-the-top craziness, with a dash of smarts, that made the film so memorable, but it's close.

Now at the St James, Bullets Over Broadway is splashy, rather than electric, thanks to sensational costumes and sets -- save the one of Greenwich Village, which is oddly misconceived. But as traditional musicals go, it mostly works -- with a proviso. Set in 1929, it's a musical without an original score. Glen Kelly, who adapted the period music, including great numbers like "Running Wild" and "Tiger Rag," played perfectly by the Atta-Girls, terrific singers and dancers who capture the Roaring Twenties.

The story is strictly screwball: David (Zach Branff), an earnest playwright, finally gets a shot on Broadway. The hitch is that his debut will be financed by a single backer, gangster Nick Valenti (Vincent Pastore), who brings a caveat of his own. Make his dopey girlfriend Olive (Helene Yorke) a star. That's a tall order, especially since the show has enlisted legendary diva Helen Sinclair (Marin Mazzie) has ideas of her own.

Throw in the critically artistic eye of Cheech (Nick Cordero), the heavy assigned to keep an eye on Olive, and Bullets Over Broadway shifts into high gear. Everyone in the cast, including Betsy Wolfe as David's girlfriend and Yorke as the goofy gun moll turned wannabe actress, hit their mark. Mazzie is convincing in her role, while Branff, making his Broadway debut, could use a few more sparks. Still, the crew's general silliness clicks.

Cordero's Cheech is a high point; it's hard not to enjoy the kooky world that Stroman/Allen have created. Woody Allen, who wrote the book, economized on some of the film's strengths, but the production still boasts good, old-fashioned showmanship.

By contrast, Violet, now at the American Airlines Theater, is a more intimate musical. The soulful country-style band sits backstage; the actors are downstage. Brian Crawley's book, adapted from Doris Betts' short story The Ugliest Pilgrim, is a sad tale of an adult's quest for beauty as redemption.

Tony winner Sutton Foster stars as Violet, a young Southerner disfigured at 13. Early on, she refers to the "axe blade" that "split my face in two." Desperate to be cured, she embarks on a bus trip from North Carolina to Oklahoma. There, she hopes to be transformed by a popular televangelist (Ben Davis), who makes outrageous healing claims.

The trip, which begins in a Nashville bus station in 1964, is meant as a journey of discovery. Stopping in Memphis, she meets two soldiers, a cocky white man named Monty (Colin Donnell) and a more sensitive black man called Flick (a moving Joshua Henry), who knows what it's like to be judged by appearance. The trio bond, but the catch, and it's a big one, is Violet doesn't get her revelation.

Flick provides the reveal -- that love is the only salvation -- weakening the dramatic structure. Despite a genuine poignancy -- Violet's back story is told in scenes with her father (Alexander Gemignani) and a younger version of herself (a terrific Emerson Steele) -- the play has moments of disconnect. Yet the raw humanity, especially in the segregated South, is touching.

The performances are strong, and Sutton Foster skillfully tackles both musical and dramatic moments. But even with Jeanine Tesori's tender score, more exposition would add greater coherence.

Happily, Lady Day at Emerson's Bar & Grill, a memoir turned musical at Circle in the Square, may not be more hopeful, but it strikes the right chord. Set in a Philadelphia club in 1959, a few short months before the great Billie Holiday died, it stars Audra McDonald. She brilliantly channels the legendary jazz singer -- her inflections, charisma and misery. McDonald captures Holiday at the end of her life: broken but still capable of moving an audience.

Lanie Robertson's play is thin, but she pays respect to both the pathos and the grit of this jazz phenomenon. Stumbling and drinking, Holiday relates the traumatizing moments of her life, including being raped at 10, how her first and "worst love," Sonny Monroe, got her hooked on heroin, and her relationship with saxophonist Lester Young, who dubbed her Lady Day, and her mother, "The Dutchess." She recounts teaming with Artie Shaw; among the first black women to work with a white orchestra.

Numbers such as "God Bless the Child," "What a Little Moonlight Can Do," "Strange Fruit" and "T'ain't Nobody's Business If I Do" showcase Holiday's essence -- a proud artist ill-treated by abusive men and a racist America.

Smoothly directed by Lonny Price, this is a solo show, though McDonald is backed by an excellent jazz trio -- Sheldon Becton on piano, George Farmer on bass and Clayton Craddock on drums. Billie Holiday's life was tragic; yet as McDonald hypnotically illustrates, she has left us her singular artistry.

Bullets Over Broadway photo: Paul Kolnik; Lady Day photo: Evgenia Eliseeva

We raised our twin daughters on Pete Seeger, Woody Guthrie, Ella Jenkins, Tom Paxton, and assorted other folk singers who recorded children's albums. They enjoyed them as toddlers and adolescents, but by 12 they had left them behind in favor of Taylor Swift and Lady Gaga.

Now they are 17. As the father of teenage girls, I have spent many hours driving them places while they listen to their favorite songs and singers on the car radio. Most of this music (like Bruno Mars, Imagine Dragons, Jay-Z, Adele, and Pink) strikes me as simplistic or silly -- no doubt just like my parents felt about my favorite songs and singers in the 1960s. Even so, I have discovered that I actually like a few of my daughters' favorite singers, like Mumford & Sons, Ed Sheeran, Civil Wars, and the remarkable (though still little-known) Hudson Taylor. But when I try to sing along, or just move around to the beat, the girls give me that look that means: "Daddy, don't try to be cool. You're too old." So I figured that I'd never bond with my daughters over music.


Amelia with her favorite album and her new record player (photo by Terry Meng)


But something happened a few months ago that may have turned the tables -- literally. I was cleaning out the shelves in our living room cabinet. That is where my wife and I store our record collection, comprised mostly of 33 rpm vinyl albums from the 60s and 70s. We brought them with us when we moved to Los Angeles over 20 years ago. We hadn't listened to even one of them in all that time, but it was hard to part with them, since, like old letters and high school sports trophies, they connect us to our past.

When we drove from Boston to LA, we depended on tape cassettes, which had replaced vinyl albums, to keep us entertained. Within a few years, though, we'd moved on to the CD stage of history. And just recently, we've become familiar with the strange new world of I-tunes, which allow music-lovers to create their own highly individualized albums instead of buying the pre-packaged versions.

I rarely thought about our collection of more than 200 LPs, but when I did, I assumed that they had become warped and unplayable, and would eventually be thrown in the trash to be recycled into some polluting plastic product. But a few months ago, our daughter Amelia started to look at our LPs and then started asking questions about them, including "will these still work?"

I told her that the vinyl records had probably warped. And even if they were in mint condition, I pointed out, we didn't own a "record player" -- a phrase I hadn't used in years and which, to Amelia, probably sounded like "typewriter." But she was curious enough to pick out some albums that caught her fancy and bring them to the house of a friend whose parents did own one of those old-fashioned music-playing machines.

She was hooked, and asked us if we could get her a record player. We did, and for the past few months she's been spending lots of time in her room -- by herself and with her friends -- listening to Simon & Garfunkel, the Beatles, Joni Mitchell, Peter, Paul & Mary, Bob Dylan, and even Procol Harum, whose "Whiter Shade of Pale" album cover is one of the most psychedelic ever produced. (I remember the covers of most of my albums as well as I remember the music).

At some point I may ask her to listen to some of my more obscure (but much-loved) albums -- like the McGarrigle Sisters, Nina Simone, Fairport Convention, Laura Nyro, Tim Hardin, Odetta, the Roches, and Richie Havens. But right now I'm enjoying listening to my old favorites and enjoying even more watching Amelia enjoy them.

It is strange to realize that most of these albums are 45 or 50 years old, purchased when I was in high school and college. To Amelia, these are ancient artifacts of an earlier civilization. But they constitute great music and I'm happy to see her appreciating them and asking questions about the artists and their songs, including my own memories. So I've told her about seeing a young Bob Dylan at a Greenwich Village coffee house before he'd released his first album, going to a Peter, Paul and Mary concert in Asbury Park when I was in high school, attending a Simon & Garfunkel concert even before the soundtrack to "The Graduate" made them super-famous, and spending nights in my college dorm room with friends trying to figure out what "I Am A Rock" meant. She's already heard my stories about every Pete Seeger concert I ever went to, including the Newport Folk Festival.

In today's high-tech world, it is comforting to hear Amelia say that she likes hearing the scratchy quality of the songs on vinyl records, which she considers a marker of authenticity. And Amelia isn't the only teenager who has rediscovered vinyl LPs. She's part of a trend.

Just like video stores, record stores have fallen on hard times. Big chains like Tower and Virgin have gone out of business. But some independent stores have recently gotten a big boost selling both used LPs and re-issued albums. (To appear trendy, even stores like Urban Outfitters sell vinyl records).

Rusty Gordon, co-owner of Canterbury Records in Pasadena (which was started by his father in 1956 and is now one of Amelia's favorite hang-outs) told me that there's always been a demand for vinyl LPs among jazz and rock aficionados, but he noticed a big jump in vinyl sales about five years ago and an "extra surge" in the past six months. Five years ago, vinyl records accounted for about 5 percent of his store's sales. Today, new and used vinyl LPs constitute more than 15 percent of Canterbury's sales and the momentum is "still building," Gordon says.

The 6 million vinyl albums sold in the United States last year account for only about 1.4 percent of all album sales, but the number is growing steadily. According to Nielson SoundScan, vinyl album sales increased by 44 percent in 2010, 39 percent in 2011, 19 percent in 2012 and another 32 percent in 2013. Meanwhile, CD sales declined 14.5 percent last year.

Teenagers, Gordon said, make up a big portion of the new consumer market for vinyl records. They mostly buy re-issued classic rock and folk-rock albums (the Beatles, the Doors, the Rolling Stones, Bob Dylan, and Simon & Garfunkel) and newly-minted albums by indy rock favorites like The Black Keys, Arctic Monkeys, and Mumford & Sons. One of the most popular vinyl re-issues among teenager consumers is the Beatles' "Abbey Road" album. (Amelia, however, has the original album, thanks to her dad).

What explains vinyl's new-found popularity among today's teenagers? "They think it sounds better," Gordon told me. "Plus, it's about as far as you can get from MP3s. They like the artwork on the covers, too."

Amelia's bonding with my old vinyl albums may be a passing fancy or the beginning of a life-long love affair with this music. And, of course, she hasn't abandoned her contemporary favorites, whom she still listens to on the radio and I-tunes, and whose concerts and other gigs she still attends with her teenage friends. But I do get a special chill up my spine when I hear "The Sound of Silence" and "Blowin' in the Wind" coming from her room.

Peter Dreier teaches Politics and chairs the Urban & Environmental Policy Department at Occidental College. His latest book is The 100 Greatest Americans of the 20th Century: A Social Justice Hall of Fame (Nation Books, 2012).

I have to admit it: in my 30 year arts management career I have been ambivalent about the value of international touring. While many of my peers disagree strenuously with me, for every benefit of touring I can list a countervailing cost.

It is clear that when an ensemble tours the artists draw closer together, benefit from having new audiences view the work and new critics assess the quality, and come back home refreshed and excited. I also know that bringing donors to enjoy the artists they support in another setting and watching audiences cheer for them can make them more engaged and more generous. I have seen Alvin Ailey American Dance Theater in Japan, American Ballet Theatre in London, the Royal Ballet in Beijing and the National Symphony Orchestra in Oman. In every case the artists, the management and the donors were enlivened by the experience.

My ambivalence stems from the cost of touring -- in dollars and in hours. Too many arts organizations spend more on touring than they receive in fees. They either must accept the loss or search for sponsorship. And in many cases, this effort requires a huge amount of scarce time and cannibalizes donations that might have gone to other purposes. Arts leaders justify the tour by citing the benefits mentioned above and typically add: touring is good for the image of the organization.

That may be true but is it the best way to create image? How many of our family members really know or care about the tours we take? If we took the time and money devoted to organizing a tour and spent it on local activities, would we do more for our image? If we mounted an astonishing new production, created a major outreach project and lowered our ticket prices, would we do more to create long-term support for our institution?

For large, well-funded institutions that have the luxury of expanding donor bases that permit them to tour and to create excitement at home, it is undeniable that touring abroad is a benefit.

But for smaller organizations -- those that do not have large, engaged families of donors and audience members, those without staffs large enough to add the burden of a tour without sacrificing another project, those that must make extremely difficult choices between a debut tour to Prague and a new production at home -- touring must be evaluated with a truly skeptical eye.

And yet, having worked in South Africa during the mid-1990s I can attest to the impact of the cultural boycott on the art and artists of that country. The development of contemporary dance there, for example, was stunted without exchange between dancers and choreographers from other countries. Once Apartheid ended and artists were allowed to travel to South Africa once again, the cultural sector blossomed. Perhaps the most important reason for international exchange is not the impact on any one arts institution but on the society as a whole. Perhaps this is cost that must be borne by an institution to ensure a healthy international arts ecology.

Plagued with visa obstacles and high inflation, young and emerging Iranian artists find it easier to have their art travel to the art markets of the world than their persons. Pegah Lari's art has found a fitting temporary home in Antibes.



Last night I went to the opening of Pegah in Wonderland at Simine Gharib's Le Cameleon Gallery in Antibes, France. It was a magical kind of evening. The old town of Antibes, with her windy pebbled roads that all seem to lead, one way or the other, to the Picasso Museum on the other end of town, is a great setting for a gallery. Simine Garib's Le Chameleon is a gem of a, small but high ceiling-ed, airy and bright, gallery. For more than a decade she has been exposing local and international artists that catch her very discerning and experienced eye. Of Swiss and Iranian parents, speaking both French and Persian (and many more), this is the first time that Garib is devoting an entire show to an Iranian artist.



The party had spilled over onto the two pebble roads on each side of the corner gallery when we arrived. Champagne and conversation poured with ease against the backdrop of the brightly lit, stone walled room, which was bursting with big colorful canvases of the young artist. The only thing missing was Pegah Lari! I was told by one of the organizers that Lari had been denied a visa to come to France. A fate that often befalls Iranian artists.



Fortunately, art travels well and crosses borders that people can't. And Pegah's paintings brought her youthful and bright vision to Antibes to show us that despite all the censorship and repression, young artists in Iran still dream, still conjure up beauty, and manage to overcome not only physical but psychological barriers. It is rather beautiful that these big colorful canvases traveled beyond Iran's borders carrying her imagination and bringing Pegah to us in a way that her physical presence alone would never achieve.

Hesam Khalatbari and Yassi Metghalchi who helped Simine Garib organize this exhibition, are two dedicated and untiring sponsors of Iranian artists in Paris. Their Gallery Flamel, in the heart of fashionable Paris, exposes and promotes Iranian artists who would not otherwise have a chance to expose their work this far away.

The art world is headed in the wrong direction; we want to fix that. Last fall, our art gallery took thirty artists on a month-long traveling artists' residency through the American Southwest. That trip changed the way we look at art, young artists, and our environment. Right now we are planning our next journey: starting in June, we will set out on a six-month long road trip, recreating last year's project as a true residency program, giving our fellow adventurers the time and space they need to truly express themselves in the face of the many extraordinary places we will visit.

Sun Tunnels, Photo by Alexander Getty


Last year we started Gerson Zevi, an art gallery focused on nurturing and engaging emerging American and European artists, curators, and collectors. Our approach was to couple high quality, curated, physical pop-ups with an elegant online gallery space. Our attachment to the internet made us too unconventional to be called a brick and mortar gallery, and our commitment to small, traditionally-curated shows set us apart from online galleries, allowing us to occupy a unique niche in the art world. Through a number of exhibitions in 2013, we are proud to have brought public attention to the practices of a wonderful group of talented young artists and curators, and to have helped many novice collectors experience the joy of owning art.

Despite our successes and growth as a gallery in London and New York, we realized that we were not doing enough to effect change in the art world, neither for the artists we work with nor for ambitious and forward-thinking supporters of the arts. It is harder than ever to be a young artist in a big city, with high rents and a lack of jobs conspiring to create tremendous pressure to churn out work that is easy to sell. Art is becoming commoditized, and is traded in a market where the value of artistic merit is falling against the power of what is cool, hip, or socially influenced. Artists and collectors are therefore less motivated to take risks, endangering the spirit of experimentation that has long been the backbone of artistic progression. We agree with Holland Cotter, who argues that the current system poses an existential threat to art as we know it. He ends his recent article in the Times with a plea to "bring art back from the brink of inconsequence," and asks, "why not start now?"


Double Negative, Photo by Alexander Getty


The Land Art Road Trip is a traveling, six-month mobile residency program that exposes young artists to the iconic land art and environments of the American Southwest. Our movement is deliberate and guided by the creative impulses of the group, emerging as a free-flowing experiential journey designed to feed our artistic imaginations and curb the aesthetic stasis that threatens the art world today. Along the way we stop for days or weeks at a time, often camped far from civilization and the corrupting influences of the art market, giving the artists time to reflect on the experience, develop inspired works of art, and think carefully about their practice. We will also develop cultural exchanges, artistic happenings, and all manner of interactions with the people, places, and communities that we encounter. Our journey is an artistic expression shaped by the sensory experience of the Southwest, and painted across the vast canvas of the open road.


Campsite, Photo by Adam Joseph Brochstein



The seminal works of the land art movement were created by visionaries who went West to find the space they needed, just as generations of pioneers have done. Retracing the steps of those who have gone before us, we will expose young artists to new and life-changing experiences, continuing the legacy of exploration that is the story of land art. Forging an alternative path for a new generation of artists, we will help to unleash their creative spirit, creating opportunities for them to reshape the art world that they are forced to be part of. By changing the relationship between gallerists and artists from one that is transactional to one that is fused by creativity, The Land Art Road Trip takes a stand against the commodification of young artists and their work, providing enough time, space, and freedom for them to realize their full potential.

We are currently accepting applications for artists who wish to take part in this adventure through our website.

Mural, 1943. Jackson Pollock (American, 1912-1956). Oil and casein on canvas. The University of Iowa Museum of Art, Gift of Peggy Guggenheim. Photo courtesy of the Getty Museum.


On the afternoon of Tues, April 15, 2014 I had the opportunity to meet Melissa Abraham, Getty Communications, to view the latest headlining exhibition at the J. Paul Getty Museum at the Getty Center in Los Angeles.

I was granted an intimate look to photograph Jackson Pollock's monumental painting Mural among the large spring break crowd and take photos of Tom Learner, Head of GCI Science overseeing Mural, 1943. Jackson Pollock. and Yvonne Szafran, Head of the J. Paul Getty Museum's Paintings Conservation department. This rare experience is part of my N(art)rative Series that features photo essays on important moments in Southern California art history.


The J. Paul Getty Museum in Los Angeles. Photo by EMS.

From the press release: Jackson Pollock's monumental painting Mural and an exploration of its creation, early history and conservation will be on view at the J. Paul Getty Museum at the Getty Center for a limited time March 11 through June 1, 2014.

Following extensive joint study and treatment by the J. Paul Getty Museum and the Getty Conservation Institute (GCI) as part of an agreement with the University of Iowa Museum of Art, the artwork will be exhibited alongside new research, showcasing a significant transitional moment in Pollock's career. The exhibition is jointly curated by Scott Schaefer, Curator Emeritus of the J. Paul Getty Museum; Tom Learner, Head of GCI Science overseeing the GCI's Modern and Contemporary Art Research Initiative; and Yvonne Szafran, Head of the J. Paul Getty Museum's Paintings Conservation department.

A constant flow of Spring Breakers view Pollock's Mural. Photo by EMS.

Pollock is among the most influential painters in American history, and Mural is widely recognized as a crucial watershed moment for the artist. The storied artwork also has a number of persistent myths associated with it -- the most prevalent being that it was painted by Pollock in a frenzied, 24-hour session. "This painting is of the greatest importance in the history of 20th century art," said Jim Cuno, President and CEO of the J. Paul Getty Trust.

We are honored to have been entrusted with task of scientifically analyzing and treating this painting. Our work has revealed much new and significant information about the painting and its role in a transitional moment in Pollock's career. We are pleased to be able to share this research and the painting itself, which is rarely seen outside of Iowa, with visitors to the Getty from around the world.

Mural, 1943. Jackson Pollock (American, 1912-1956). Oil and casein on canvas. The University of Iowa Museum of Art, Gift of Peggy Guggenheim. Photo by EMS.

Mural was Pollock's first commission by legendary art collector Peggy Guggenheim and the work has been in the University of Iowa's art collection since it was donated by her in 1951. The painting was likely rolled and unrolled at least five times as it moved from Pollock's studio, to Guggenheim's entrance hall, to Vogue Studios (for photography), to New York's Museum of Modern Art, to Yale University, and finally, in 1951, to the University of Iowa.

This early itinerant history took a toll on its condition. The paint began to flake, and the weak original stretcher caused the painting to develop a pronounced sag. By 1973, its structural condition was in need of attention, and a conservation treatment was carried out in Iowa to stabilize it. This included adhering a lining canvas with wax-resin to the reverse, replacing the original stretcher with a sturdier one, and varnishing the painting.

By 2009, it was evident that further conservation intervention was needed, and experts from the Getty Conservation Institute and the J. Paul Getty Museum were invited to Iowa to assess the condition and display of the painting. While the 1973 treatment had successfully consolidated the paint, it also made the sag a permanent feature, with the adhesive locking the distortion into place. When the painting was re-stretched, the distortion meant that portions of the unpainted tacking margins were now visible on the front of the painting. The varnish applied in 1973 also had dulled the surface.


Tom Learner. Head of GCI Science overseeing Mural, 1943. Jackson Pollock. Photo by EMS.

In July 2012, the painting was transported to the Getty Center for an in-depth study and conservation treatment. Art historical research, conventional methods of treatment and analysis, and some of the latest developments in technical imaging were used to provide new information and insights into the painting and its creation and present Mural in the best possible manner. The analysis and conservation work was jointly undertaken by Learner and Alan Phenix from the GCI, and Szafran and Laura Rivers from the J. Paul Getty Museum.

One exciting discovery has been that Pollock's initial paint marks appear to have been made in four highly diluted colors -- lemon yellow, teal, red, and umber -- all applied wet-on-wet and still visible in several areas of the painting. This presents the intriguing possibility that one of the most prevalent myths -- that Pollock painted the monumental work in one all-night session -- might be partially true.


Tom Learner. Photo by EMS.

"It looks as if Pollock did finish some kind of initial composition over much of the canvas very rapidly, perhaps even in a single all-night session. However, the majority of paint layers on Mural were not part of this session, and were frequently added over earlier applications of paint that had already dried, indicating several days or even weeks would have passed between painting sessions," said Learner at the GCI. Further analysis also has provided new information about the paints Pollock used to create his masterpiece. While most of the work was created on Belgian linen canvas with high quality artist's oils, the Getty's investigation yielded another interesting surprise -- simple white housepaint.

The housepaint was used very specifically to regain some pockets of areas of white
space or 'air' after the majority of the work had already been painted.


Yvonne Szafran, Head of the J. Paul Getty Museum's Paintings Conservation department. Photo by EMS.

The Getty team also investigated whether Pollock might have laid the canvas on the floor to drip paint onto the canvas, as he did -- famously -- in later years. "There are several areas of pink paint on Mural where we thought Pollock may have dripped it onto a canvas lying flat on the studio floor. However, we were able to achieve the same results by manipulating an oil paint and flicking it at a test canvas placed upright, so it seems unlikely that he laid this painting horizontally to apply paint to the canvas," said Learner "Having said that, you can certainly glimpse in the application of the splattered paint in Mural how Pollock's style is evolving," added Szafran. "It's a hint of things to come." END PRESS RELEASE


Yvonne Szafran and Tom learner outside the exhibition. Photo by EMS.


Mural in the exhibition space. Photo by EMS.

(This article is part of an ongoing photojournalism survey of art exhibition openings in SoCal titled EMS N(art)rative. Through my lens I document a photographic essay or visual "N(art)rative" that captures the happenings, personalities, collectors, gallerists, artists, and the art itself; all elements that form the richly varied and textured fabric of the SoCal art world. This reconnaissance offers a unique view for serious art world players to obtain news and information on the current pulse of what's in the now, yet capturing timeless indelible images for posterity and legacy. Here is EMS N(art)rative Ten.)

My friends are never very excited about new plays. What is The Realistic Joneses and why did celebrities want to be in it? Is Casa Valentina an atmospheric production where they treat us like we're in a resort?

These are serious questions I receive. But, let me tell you something, I'm always excited to see new plays, especially on Broadway, where their appearance is not all that common. This April has four of them: The Realistic Joneses, Act One, The Velocity of Autumn and Casa Valentina. Two have opened to mostly positive reviews, two are still to open. You should go support them, at least one of them. (The Cripple of Inishmaan also opened this month to mostly positive reviews, and many people, people who aren't me, think that should be considered a new play in terms of Tony consideration. I welcome you seeing that as well, though I am not considering it new for these purposes.)

Let me tell you -- it's not easy to get investors to invest in a play on Broadway unless it has Julia Roberts, or the like, in it. I have unfortunately not seen All The Way, which opened in March, but I tip my proverbial hat (not a real one, I'm not Pharrell Williams) to Jeffrey Richards, Louise Gund, Jerry Frankel, Stephanie P. McClelland, Double Gemini Productions, Rebecca Gold, Scott M. Delman, Barbara Freitag, Harvey Weinstein, Gene Korf, William Berlind, Luigi Caiola, Gutterman Chernoff, Jam Theatricals, Gabrielle Palitz, Cheryl Wiesenfeld and Will Trice, Rob Hinderliter & Dominick LaRuffa, Jr., Michael Crea and PJ Miller for presenting a play with so many people in it. Yes, Bryan Cranston comes with a built-in fan base, but it was still risky to produce commercially a straight history play with 20 people onstage.

The thing is, we all need to see new plays. No one wants another revival of Waiting for Godot. Well, maybe five critics do, but most of us are done with it. The less we all support the new shows that are on now, the less producers will want to present new shows in the future. It's an obvious equation. Clearly you don't have to support every single new play just because it's a new play. But if you like plays, try to see one new one for each revival you see. If you can't afford full price tickets, look for a deal or grab rush tickets (if available). If you like what you see, spread the word.

In some ways, Broadway shows without stars or a popular brand name, work the way Lifebooker is supposed to work with regards to salon services. Producers offer deals to fill seats, sure, but they also offer them in the hopes that you will come back or you'll recommend that someone else come. Now, I am not saying you can easily go to a Broadway show for the price of a manicure. Maybe hair highlights, but not a manicure. What I am saying is, if you can possible afford it, take a chance on a new play. Support tomorrow's revivals today.

All of these new plays are currently running on Broadway:

All The Way by Robert Schenkkan, which opened March 6 at the Neil Simon Theatre

Mothers and Sons by Terrence McNally, which opened March 24 at the John Golden Theatre

The Realistic Joneses by Will Eno, which opened April 6 at the Lyceum Theatre

Act One by James Lapine, from the autobiography by Moss Hart, which opened at the Vivian Beaumont Theatre on April 17

The Velocity of Autumn by Eric Coble, opening April 21 at the Booth Theatre

Casa Valentina by Harvey Fierstein, opening April 23 at the Samuel J. Friedman Theatre (which I always call the Biltmore)

Life is full of surprises. Little surprises. And not so little surprises. Even on Inishmaan, where Cripple Billy spends his days staring at cows and the biggest news involves the fate of farm animals, Life can suddenly rear up and beat the bejesus out of you or barge through the front door and bestow a reason for living with a kiss.

In a splendid revival of Martin McDonagh's very funny and touching play The Cripple of Inishmaan, an excellent cast led by a superb Daniel Radcliffe turns the foibles and idiosyncrasies of the denizens of that island off the western coast of Ireland into a microcosm of our own benighted world, where danger may lurk behind the façade of kindness and kindness itself may emerge from the face of danger.

Days on Inishmaan normally follow a prescribed routine, especially in the shop run by the Osbourne sisters, Eileen and Kate. Johnnypateenmike comes in to barter the day's news for a hatful of eggs, or a can of peas if Helen, the fiery redhead who delivers the eggs happens to have smashed them all for one reason or another. Helen's brother Bartley will stop by to see what candy is on offer. And Billy, the deformed cripple Eileen and Kate have raised since his parents both drowned in a boating accident, will come home from a day of staring at cows.

Eileen and Kate are in a constant worry about Billy. For one thing, he spends far too much time reading books and looking at cows. He also has a wheeze for which they send him regularly to the doctor, and they fret that no one will ever want to kiss Billy, even Helen who will kiss just about anything. "She'd kiss a donkey," they observe, "but not Cripple Billy."

But one piece of news Johnnypateen brings one day in 1934 is really headline stuff on Inishmaan. An American movie company has arrived on the neighboring island of Inishmore to make a filum there, and Bobbybobby is going to take Helen and Bartley over in his boat to audition for a part in it. Sure, Ireland can't be such a bad place if Yanks want to make a filum there.

Billy also wants to try out for the movie, but Bobbybobby won't agree to take him in his boat until Billy produces a letter from the doctor saying he has tuberculosis and only three months to live. Bobbybobby, whose own wife died to TB, then feels sorry for Billy and agrees to let Billy tag along, though he can't imagine the movie people would want a cripple in their filum.

At the heart of McDonagh's play is Billy's search for the truth about his parents, how and why they died in the sea and how he came to be saved, and whether they loved him. It is a truth that the residents of Inishmaan have carefully kept from him despite his persistent questioning. And like so many truths, it is one that turns out to be particularly ugly, and it is McDonagh's particular genius that he can find something good to come from it.

But it is the populace of Inishmaan, where sanity hangs by a thread, you are not likely to forget anytime soon. Beautifully directed by Michael Grandage, this terrific cast brings each of them and their individual quirks indelibly to life.

First and foremost there is Radcliffe's Billy. Not content with a simple limp, Radcliffe keeps Billy's deformed leg ramrod straight and his withered hand curled into a claw as he lurches around the stage. It is almost painful to watch, and one is tempted to rush up to help him, especially since he'll be getting none from anyone on Inishmaan.

But it is Radcliffe's convincingly desperate desire to hear a good word about his parents that sets his Billy apart. Here is a kind-hearted lad who takes life's misfortunes in stride after tortured stride, and who can piece together a new dream out of the shards of a shattered one.

Pat Shortt is a revelation as Johnnypateenmike, lurking in the shadows to pick up any gossip he can broadcast as the island's town crier and spoon feeding his old mammie jars of whisky in the hopes it will kill her, all with a good-natured smile and a kind word.

Sarah Greene is a menacing mischief as Helen, whether she's smashing eggs on her brother's head or dispatching a goose and a cat for a few bob. She is a study of contradictions, ready to kiss anybody in her buried longing for affection except the clergy who grope her arse.

Gillian Hanna and Ingrid Craigie are wonderfully slow-witted as Eileen, who secretly munches the candies she's supposed to sell, and Kate, who takes refuge from her troubles by talking to stones. Padraic Delaney is excellent as Bobbybobby, the soft-hearted mariner with a buried fury. June Watson, Conor MacNeill, and Gary Lilburn round out the fine cast.

A recurring line in the play is: "Ireland can't be all bad if ... (fill in the blank)." To be sure, Ireland can't be anything bad if it still produces playwrights like McDonagh.

Photo by Hisao Kishimoto

Words are a big thing for Marla Mase. For her, music counterbalances and complements the vignettes that swirl around in her head. The brief accounts of fear, the blues, anxiety or the hope of fulfilling dreams of acknowledging the inner sexual beast -- these are the themes that drive her. Marla is living in her own skin and wants those who listen to her music to be comfortable in theirs as well. Her latest EP, Half-Life, might be a metaphor for Marla's excursion into embracing the next life while she's in the present life shuffling off the mortal coil. Or simply that she's entering a chapter when the troubles of daily life can sit side by side with the rewards.

Regardless of the impetus, not wanting to drown in the blue, Marla would rather abandon the strife: walk, talk and work on high-speed before the blue sneaks up and imprisons. She knows that magic exists in the grayer spaces -- the undefined. And for her, the dichotomy of being both introverted and extroverted is to be or not to be in one's own life.

What does her music sound like?

It sounds a little tribal, a little rock, a little jazzy, a little bluesy, a little funky, but most of all cathartic. Although Half-Life starts off on a rock vibe, her lyrics, whether sung or spoken, are brilliantly backed by The Tomás Doncker Band, which adds roots to the soundscape. In fact, the groove in Marla's effort is due to Doncker's Global Soul movement, of which she is a member. For instance, Mike Faulkner's drums and Bill Laswell's bass on "The Heart Beats" are what make the piece dimensionally earthy up against Marla's spoken words. Meanwhile, the EP gets funky with "Things That Scare Me" as Mark Henry's sax drives the piece. The endeavor gets light with the acoustic blues on "Drown in Blue (Reprised)" and the jazzy rhythms on "Hold Fast Your Dreams". One can say that the musicians capture the global while Marla delivers the poetry.

Her eyes hypnotic, she seems to be in the act of becoming herself.

Marla has beaten the odds of her neurosis, yet still disjointed and uncomfortable, she is the main actor on her stage. To get the gist of her spoken words, she seductively ends the title track "Half-Life" with,

Hey I am a practical woman and I get what I want. I am a practical woman who believes in magic, who insists on it, not just in the nighttime, but all the time and not just with you, but in everything I do...

Though, sorry to say, her lyrics at times fall into the abyss when she throws everything but the kitchen sink in some songs like "Things That Scare Me." And without the percussions backing "The Heart Beats" Marla's message may sound a little too mathematical. In spite of that Marla's "Gaping Hole" song does hit the heart, for we all can relate to that space in us that needs to be filled. And we all want to reserve a place in our heart for dreams.

While Marla is reaching her half point, some of us may have already been there while some of us are on the threshold. Nevertheless, we do reach that point eventually.

You can listen to Marla Mase's EP Half Life on BandCamp.

What's it like to be an avant-garde artist in a country where free expression can flourish, and not be able to earn a decent living? To be an artist who is trying to express honest, creative feelings without concern for public acceptance or commercial interests, is a tough road. We need these artists so that the bell of freedom of expression continues to ring. Creativity should be one of our country's most important products.

In a time when the future is indefinable, we will need to depend more and more on the creative mind and ideas to move our country forward. It's important to nurture kids' interest in creativity at an early age in all of our public and private schools. Creativity comes naturally to children and builds self-esteem and confidence as well as the discipline and understanding of the value of hard work. Creativity is our future ... and congratulations to the 100 artists that we honor.

2014 Herb Alpert Award in the Arts Winners

Michelle Dorrance: Dance

Michelle Dorrance, founder and artistic director of Dorrance Dance/New York, is one of the most sought-after tap dancers of her generation and "one of the most imaginative tap choreographers working today" (The New Yorker). A 2012 Princess Grace Award Winner, 2012 Field Dance Fund Recipient and 2011 Bessie Award Winner, Michelle performs, teaches and choreographs throughout the world.

Deborah Stratman: Film/Video

Deborah Stratman is a Chicago-based artist and filmmaker interested in landscapes and systems. Her films, rather than telling stories, pose a series of problems -- and through their at times ambiguous nature, allow for a complicated reading of the questions being asked. Much of her work points to the relationships between physical environments and the very human struggles for power and control that are played out on the land. Stratman works in multiple mediums, including sculpture, photography, drawing and audio. She has exhibited internationally at venues including the Whitney Biennial, MoMA NY, the Pompidou, Hammer Museum among others. She is the recipient of Fulbright and Guggenheim fellowships, a Creative Capital award, and she currently teaches at the University of Illinois at Chicago.

Matana Roberts: Music

Internationally documented, Chicago-born. Matana Roberts, a musician, main instrument: alto saxophone; works in many performance/sound mediums including improvisation, dance, poetry, and theater. She aims to expose the mystical roots and the intuitive spirit raising traditions of American creative expression in her music. Her innovative work has forged new conceptual approaches to considering narrativity, history, and political expression within improvisatory structures. past member of the BRC: Black Rock Coalition and the AACM: Association for the Advancement of Creative Musicians. Roberts holds two degrees in music performance and lives in New York city.

Annie Dorsen: Theatre

Theatre artist Annie Dorsen creates, writes, produces, and stages performances that make people curious and make people think. Whether she is using computer-generated texts and live actors, magic tricks, choreography or auctioneering, she seeks the not-yet-known. Dorsen is co-creator of the 2008 Broadway musical Passing Strange, which she also directed. Spike Lee has since made a film of her production of the piece, which premiered at the Sundance Film Festival in 2009 and was released theatrically by IFC in 2010 before being broadcast on PBS' Great Performances. She has received several fellowships, notably the Sir John Gielgud Fellowship from the Society of Stage Directors and Choreographers. She has taught at Bard College, New York University and Fordham University, and is a graduate of the Yale School of Drama.

Daniel Joseph Martinez: Visual Arts

Daniel Joseph Martinez is a post-conceptual artist who engages in an interrogation of social, political and cultural mores through artworks that have been described as nonlinear, asymmetrical, multidimensional propositions. His works range from the digital to the analogue, ephemeral to the solid. Martinez' work can be found in public collections in the United States and abroad including the Whitney Museum of American Art in New York; the Orange County Museum of Art, Newport Beach, California; Cisneros Fontanals Art Foundation, Miami, Florida; Museum of Fine Arts, Houston, Texas; and the Pace Foundation, San Antonio, Texas. Martinez has received three National Endowment for the Arts Individual Artist Fellowships, a fellowship from the Getty Center, and a Pollock-Krasner Foundation grant. In 2008 he received the United States Artists' Fellowship, and in 2009 the Rasmuson Foundation Alaska's artist-in-residence award, and in 2010 the Fellows of Contemporary Art Fellowship.

The sensible Joe Nocera is concerned: Apple has lost its creative mojo. Instead of trying to put new dents in the universe, Apple is involved in never-ending litigation, squabbling with competitors over patents. Even worse, Apple "has become risk-averse, its innovative capacity reduced to making small tweaks on products it has already brought to market." In search of an explanation, Nocera descends to quoting B-school jargon, about critical mass and innovators' dilemmas. But in fact you don't need an MBA to know which way this wind is blowing. You just need to know about Picasso and Dylan.

Years ago, Malcolm Gladwell said in a speech that Apple was Picasso, and Dell was Cézanne. At the time, all Gladwell meant was that Apple innovated conceptually, and Dell experimentally. But I believe Gladwell was even more right than he understood.

Picasso wasn't merely a great conceptual innovator, who made a dramatic innovation and spent the rest of his life basking in the wealth and fame it brought. Picasso was more ambitious than that: he wanted to be not only the greatest artist of his time, but of all time, and he understood that that required multiple innovations. He also understood that the way to do that was to make a great innovation (Cubism), and then to do Something Completely Different (collage), and then to do Something Else Completely Different (stylistic versatility).

Pablo Picasso in 1932. Image courtesy of the National Portrait Gallery, London.

Picasso was the prototype of the versatile conceptual innovator, and among those who followed him in this behavior was Bob Dylan. In Chronicles, Volume 1, Dylan recalled being a young folksinger in Greenwich Village, and reading about the aged Picasso, still kicking in his 80s, not content to sit on the sidelines, and thinking: "Picasso had fractured the art world and cracked it open. He was revolutionary. I wanted to be like that." Dylan went on to become the most protean of popular musicians, going through "so many transformations, emotionally and musically and even physically," that admirers like Joyce Carol Oates believed that "he must be a fictional character."

Joan Baez and Bob Dylan in 1963. Image courtesy of Wikimedia Commons.

Steve Jobs considered Dylan "one of my all-time heroes." He quoted "The Times They Are a-Changin'" at the unveiling of the Macintosh, and played "Like a Rolling Stone" at the launches of both the iPhone and the iPad. But Jobs didn't just love Dylan's music. He understood, and admired, Dylan's behavior: "I learned the lyrics to all his songs and watched him never stand still. If you look at the artists, if they are really good, it always occurs to them at some point that they can do this one thing for the rest of their lives, and they can be really successful to the outside world but not really successful to themselves." But there would come a key moment, when "an artist really decides who he or she is. If they keep on risking failure, they're still artists. Dylan and Picasso were always risking failure."

And so was Jobs. He didn't care about being the richest entrepreneur in Silicon Valley, so he wasn't content simply to make the Apple II.2, or the Apple III. He wanted to be the greatest entrepreneur ever, and he knew that to do that "you have to not look back too much. You have to be willing to take whatever you've done and whoever you were and throw them away." And Now for Something Completely Different: iPod, iPhone, iPad.

Steve Jobs and Bill Gates in 2007. Photo by Joi Ito, image courtesy of Wikimedia Commons.

But Steve Jobs died, and it's hard to believe he really thought Tim Cook would be a great innovator as his successor as CEO of Apple. More likely, Jobs chose Cook because he knew that Cook would make Jobs look even greater in retrospect. In Yukari Kane's book, Haunted Empire, she variously describes Cook as calm, rational, organized, prepared, realistic - all in direct contrast to Jobs.

One of the funniest sentences in Kane's book is: "Like Jobs, Cook claimed to be a Dylan fan." Tim Cook may or may not really like Bob Dylan's music, but there is little doubt that he has no real understanding of Dylan's protean behavior in pursuit of greatness: unlike Jobs, who was a gambler, willing to risk his reputation and his fortune on a new, insanely great product that could send a giant ripple through the universe, Cook is just another boring MBA who loves to read spreadsheets to try to cut costs. Walter Isaacson wrote that Steve Jobs' favorite words were "revolutionary" and "incredible;" it seems unlikely that Tim Cook uses these with any frequency. And because of that, Apple is no longer Picasso, or Dylan, or Jobs.

VIOLET *** out of ****
BULLETS OVER BROADWAY ** out of ****
OF MICE AND MEN ** out of ****


VIOLET *** out of ****
AMERICAN AIRLINES THEATRE AT ROUNDABOUT

Oh ye of little faith! Worshipping your false idols of expensive sets and fancy costumes! Indulging in the easy, familiar pleasures of jukebox musicals and shows lustfully based on movies! And TV shows! And (surely some day soon) video games!

These pagan ways have distracted you from the pure pleasure of theater. Luckily, in recent years our faith has been restored by simpler shows, plays like Peter and The Starcatcher and musicals like Once. And now Violet. It has a few chairs on stage to take the place of a bus. It has a bed rolled out for a hotel room and cleared away again for a dance hall. And that's about it for flash. But it has songs and a sweet story and a talented cast and really that's all you've ever needed. (A recent concert staging of Guys & Dolls at Carnegie Hall only reinforced this. Without a single set, that show could be transplanted to Broadway and pack 'em in.)

Violet (Tony winner Sutton Foster) is taking a trip. Disfigured as a child when her father is chopping wood and the ax flies off into her face, Violet is a no-nonsense, smart but deeply unhappy person. Filled with bitterness over this accident, she's never really forgiven her dad. Now she's headed from her tiny home town to the big city where Violet believes without question that a TV preacher will work a miracle and make her pretty.

Along the way she meets a nice little old lady and not one but two handsome, strapping GIs who fall head over heels in love with this woman so ghastly in appearance that everyone who meets her flinches at first. Will the miracle take place on her face or in her heart? No points for guessing.



This tale is the Broadway revival of a show that played Off Broadway to much acclaim in the 1990s and has been done regionally ever since. With music by Jeanine Tesori and a book and lyrics by Brian Crawley, it draws upon folk, bluegrass, country, blues and gospel to craft a string of songs that are always solid and sometimes inspired. The simplicity of the staging works hand in hand with the down-home stylings of the score and they've even avoided a momentum-killing intermission since none is called for dramatically.

The result is a charming, low-key musical with some rousing numbers, an affecting story and a lot of talent on display. Based on the short story "The Ugliest Pilgrim" by Doris Betts, it offers few surprises. But there are some. Notably, that TV preacher (well played by Ben Davis) is not a cynical huckster and even offers Violet some sound counsel. And Violet comes to peace with some of her anger without having to spell out in tedious fashion the lessons she has learned. The sets by David Zinn are effective in their simplicity. And the costumes of Clint Ramos and hair and wigs of Charles G. LaPointe let a team of actors tackle numerous supporting roles with ease, especially Annie Golden, who has a blast switching from that little old lady and a seedy hooker.

What keeps Violet from greatness is a rushed story that stretches credulity. Handsome men are so smitten by her that you might leave the show wondering where you can get your own disfiguring scar. More to the point, the story of the two GIs and how they fall for her doesn't quite make emotional sense. Violet is clearly drawn to Flick (Joshua Henry), even though he feels restrained at first. When her overtures are not enough, it's easy to see why Violet spends the night with the dashingly handsome Monty (Colin Donnell). We know he's a good time Charlie and can imagine Violet hasn't had many opportunities for intimacy so that's perfectly fine, even if her heart pines for Flick.

But then several things happen: Monty becomes reformed and wants to share his life with Violet and Violet returns from her meeting with the preacher to breathlessly wait for Monty. Monty? Wait, this whip-smart woman is now in love with him? Even though she knows full well he's not the one for her? As if that isn't enough, somehow she pivots on a dime, sends him on his way and embraces Flick after all. This circuitous route to where we knew the show was headed all along diminishes Violet (she's smarter than that) and Flick and Monty. We're supposed to be moved that Flick sees the beauty in Violet's face while Monty tells her the obvious -- the miracle didn't happen. But since they both see the beauty in her (Monty wants to marry her as well, after all), it hardly seems like a damning moment for him.

Despite this last-minute traffic jam of emotions, the show sweeps to its finale with a strong final number and a delicate, closing note that feels just right. Other musical highlights include the gospel number "Raise Me Up" (put across with just the right amount of fervor and self-aware performance by Rema Webb) and the scene-setting "On My Way." Alexander Gemignani is sensitive as Violet's father, but it's the new men in her life that make the biggest impression. Donnell is so rakishly appealing as Monty, you can easily see Violet torn between the two. Henry (so good in The Scottsboro Boys) is magnetic as a natural leader of men. He kills the big solo number "Let It Sing," though I'd churlishly suggest it would have been even more powerful without the extended, gospel-like flourishes at the end. (That also seemed out of character for the straight-forward, no-nonsense Flick.) But don't get me wrong: it's a deservedly show-stopping number.

Foster of course is the heart and soul of the show. She's utterly winning as Violet, to the point where it's easy to forget the painful reality of her life that should be uppermost in our minds. Sure, she makes herself seem a little plain. But I do wonder what it would be like if the show went in the direction of the movies Mask or The Elephant Man and didn't leave her disfigurement just to our imagination. Of course, it's a universal tale: many feel ugly or unloved in some way, often in ways that others wouldn't even recognize. So we always see the strong, appealing woman underneath the scar. It's no surprise when she embodies the role and sings it so winningly on "Surprise" and "Look At Me" and every other number she tackles in this show.

The Roundabout has taken the slam dunk route of reviving Cabaret with Alan Cumming. (Why not? Stars have returned to their greatest roles repeatedly ever since theater began.) Wouldn't it be sweet if they also discovered a money maker in this sweet, simple, unadorned story of faith and love?


BULLETS OVER BROADWAY ** out of ****
ST. JAMES THEATRE

A shrug is certainly not the reaction producers are looking for from their new musical comedy. But when people ask what I thought of it, a shrug feels about right. It's watchable, has some good performances and some good dancers and some great sets. But it never comes close to adding up to anything you care about. So you shrug.

Adapted by Woody Allen from the screenplay of his film (which was co-written with Douglas McGrath), Bullets is a backstage story seemingly ripe for musicalizing. David Shayne (the appealing Zach Braff in his Broadway debut) is a fiery playwright of high ideals and no success or even discernible talent. When a gangster (Vincent Pastore) needs a vehicle for his girlfriend, suddenly David gets to write and direct his own play, with the tiny caveat that the squeaky-voiced, defiantly untalented moll Olive (Helene York) gets a part. He won't compromise; he refuses to compromise; he wouldn't dream of compromising. But maybe this one time. Along for the ride is her bodyguard Cheech (Nick Cordero), a quiet killer who proves a much better script doctor (and indeed playwright) than our nebbishy dreamer David.

It's filled with stock theater types like the egotistical aging diva (a very funny Marin Mazzie) and a leading man who gorges on food (Brooks Ashmanskas, fine in a modest part). Director Susan Stroman choreographs some terrific hoofers in solid, Busby Berkeley-like numbers and the sets by Santo Loquasto are endless and endless impressive. (Give him a million bucks and he'll give you five million worth of pizazz, apparently.) But there are problems galore.



Many complained that the show pulled together a grab-bag of old tunes rather than crafting an original score. But we could all name a string of classic shows built upon pre-existing songs. The problem is that many of them were songs plugged into a classic romance where all sorts of love songs will work. Bullets Over Broadway on the other hand is a very specific comedy with distinctive characters and any old standard just won't do.

"Don't Speak" would have been a likely comic number for Marin Mazzie's Helen Sinclair. Instead she sings "There's A Broken Heart For Every Light On Broadway." Every song has something at least nominally to do with the moment at hand. And after the first two numbers ("Tiger Rag" and "Gee Baby, Ain't I Good To You") I thought, this is fine. It doesn't matter. But as the show progresses and the songs seem increasingly disconnected to the matter at hand, it proved harder and harder to overlook. When "Cheech" sings the lovelorn blues number "Tain't Nobody's Biz-ness If I Do," the audience actually loves it because he's the most winning character in the musical (and film). But this song of being defiant over being misused by a lover has nothing, absolutely nothing to do with Cheech's situation. Hearing "Yes, We Have No Bananas" tossed in nonsensically at the finale is one thing. Hearing every other number seem just as random before that is the real problem.

And who is singing these songs? Braff is of course the stand-in for Allen and a fine one, it seems. (Though John Cusack from the film might have been one of the best ever, so he's got big shoes to fill.) His first number is a modest little duet with David's sweetheart Ellen (Betsy Wolfe, in a thankless, anonymous role). They sing "Blues My Naughty Sweetie Gives To Me" and Braff strums a uke and it's fine. But as the show continues his vocal demands are increasingly bigger and all the punched-in spotlights and choreographic distraction can't disguise the fact that he's not up to the demands vocally. Any show can afford one role with an actor charming their way through the numbers. But Bullets has Braff and the vocally underwhelming Cordero and the vocally non-existent Pastore of The Sopranos stiffly walking his way through two big numbers. Toss in Yorke who's not supposed to be a good singer as Olive and you're looking at a lot of numbers led by people who intentionally or not are suspect vocally.

If only these numbers were interrupting an hilarious story, it might be alright. But Yorke flops in the can't miss ditz role of Olive. "The Hot Dog Song" is a lame novelty number filled with single entendres that Yorke can't do anything with, silly hot dog costumes or not. Cordero and Mazzie shine best in the best roles from the film. The wonderful Karen Ziemba has literally nothing to do as an actress who carts around a little dog and speaks pig Latin. I didn't even realize pig Latin was supposed to be a defining trait of hers until it was dragged out again at the finale (she only did it once before, I think). Other than that, her main task is to hold the dog and then face it away from the audience when a prerecorded mutt yaps along rhythmically for a laugh. Oy.

And the finale. "Yes, We Have No Bananas" -- okay, I'm on board at the end for a completely random bit of nonsense. Maybe giving up on the story completely will let us have a little goofy fun. But it's begun by Pastore, features that pig Latin "joke," and everyone takes their turn...and there's not a banana in sight. Yes, I know, they're saying they have no bananas but when did logic get in the way of fun? This show looks like a million bucks (or $15 million, given the rising cost of staging a Broadway show) and they couldn't bring on some bananas? I expected Carmen Miranda-like headgear and bananas falling from the sky and people in banana costumes and I got nothing.

It didn't help that I saw a glorious concert version of Guys & Dolls (the ultimate musical comedy with gangsters) just a short time ago. There is a lot of talent on display here, which is why the evening is pain-free and has its moments (especially with Mazzie). But even if you haven't seen the movie Bullets Over Broadway in a long time -- or ever -- you'll know something is missing when you come out of this show whistling about the sets.

OF MICE AND MEN ** out of ****
LONGACRE THEATRE

It shouldn't be a surprise that I can't recommend Of Mice And Men for the simple fact that I don't particularly like Of Mice And Men. The John Steinbeck novella is a staple of schools much like the John Knowles novel A Separate Peace. They're short, they're "sad," and they're very teachable. For generations, students have been asked "What do the bunny rabbits represent?" and they probably always will.

Even as a child, I found Steinbeck's tragic tale rather heavy-handed and repetitive. Whatever modest power it holds on the page is diminished greatly when it comes to the stage. There the static nature of the story, the banal trajectory of the characters from A to A (not even A to B) is clear and what seems thin becomes transparent. This sensitive revival by Anna D. Shapiro has a generally excellent cast, all the good intentions in the world and leaves you unmoved.



George (James Franco) and Lennie (a wonderful Chris O'Dowd) are best pals. They travel the country looking for work in the midst of the Great Depression. George is a smart, savvy guy and Lennie is slow, a not so gentle giant who is dangerously strong and sweet by nature but prone to getting into trouble. They were driven out of their last town when Lennie started to pet the pretty silk skirt of a woman and frightened her half to death. So they're back on the road, trying to stay out of trouble and sharing the dream of somehow, someday buying a place of their own and living off the fat of the land.

Lennie doesn't like the new place they've arrived at and with good reason. The son of the overseer is Curley (Alex Morf), a bitter tempered, jealous little guy always picking fights and driven to distraction by the wandering eye of his new wife. Curley's wife (Leighton Meester) is trouble from the word go, constantly wandering into the bunkhouse where the laborers rest and getting everyone hot and bothered. Some of the guys are nice: Candy (the great Jim Norton) is a harmless, one-armed old man with a smelly dog and Slim (a very good Jim Parrack of True Blood) is a decent sort. But George and Lennie will be lucky to get to the end of the month without trouble engulfing them one way or another.

A story of the Great Depression, of people who slave away for pitiful wages and can barely dream of getting ahead much less getting something of their own? It's all painfully relevant. The show is best at capturing the tenuous hopes and fears of these men, including Ron Cephas Jones as Crooks, the black laborer who is the only person the other laborers can look down upon and feel superior to someone. Watching Candy and Crooks latch onto the dream of George and Lennie like a life raft is the most affecting moment of the show.

But there's precious little drama. Meester is very beautiful but has no stage presence or the ability to shape her performance. This floozy, this dangerous beauty, doesn't come across as the destabilizing force she should. More importantly, every single character is exactly what they seem to be from the first moment we see them: the lovable Lennie, the grumpy but kind George, the solid Slim, the flirty woman, the mean as a skunk Curley and so on. We don't get to know a single one of them because there's nothing to know.

They're archetypes, paper-thin ideas of people with one or two ideas repeated over and over ("Where's my wife?" "Tell me about the farm, George") until it ends cheaply and sadly. An old smelly dog isn't the only one that will be gunned down and the laborers are all too aware they'll be lucky if it doesn't happen until they're old and worn out.

The scenic design by Todd Rosenthal is handsome and works well with the fine costumes of Suttirat Larlarb and the effective lighting of Japhy Weideman. The cast is generally strong. Jones and Norton both have a few good moments, making us believe these stock roles have some genuine inner life. Parrack makes a very good impression in a similarly thin part. Morf maybe slams one too many doors but is believably insecure. Meester has been good on film (notably Country Strong) but needs a lot more time on stage before returning to Broadway). Franco -- grading on a curve, because his peripatetic career is admirable -- proves a likable presence. His performance isn't terribly shaded but he holds his own amidst a superior cast.

Franco and everyone else benefit greatly from acting alongside O'Dowd, who is wonderful in the showiest, most appealing role this play has to offer. Lennie should be a slam dunk but that doesn't mean he will be. O'Dowd brings him to life, allows Lennie to be a little scary with his furious outbursts, gets humor without pandering and generally does everything one can with the part. It's not his fault Steinbeck wrote a play that sacrifices Lennie to an unthinking world before that world has truly been brought to life. You can't have tragedy in a fable, just a lesson to be learned. The lesson here is that great actors will make the most of even so-so material.


THEATER OF 2014

Beautiful: The Carole King Musical ***
Rodney King ***
Hard Times ** 1/2
Rosencrantz And Guildenstern Are Dead **
I Could Say More *
The Loneliness Of The Long Distance Runner **
Machinal ***
Outside Mullingar ***
A Man's A Man * 1/2
The Tribute Artist ** 1/2
Transport **
Prince Igor at the Met **
The Bridges Of Madison County ** 1/2
Kung Fu (at Signature) **
Stage Kiss ***
Satchmo At The Waldorf ***
Antony and Cleopatra at the Public **
All The Way ** 1/2
The Open House (Will Eno at Signature) ** 1/2
Wozzeck (at Met w Deborah Voigt and Thomas Hampson and Simon O'Neill)
Hand To God ***
Tales From Red Vienna **
Appropriate (at Signature) *
Rocky * 1/2
Aladdin ***
Mothers And Sons **
Les Miserables *** 1/2
Breathing Time * 1/2
Cirque Du Soleil's Amaluna * 1/2
Heathers The Musical * 1/2
Red Velvet, at St. Ann's Warehouse ***
Broadway By The Year 1940-1964 *** 1/2
A Second Chance **
Guys And Dolls *** 1/2
If/Then * 1/2
The Threepenny Opera * 1/2
A Raisin In The Sun *** 1/2
The Heir Apparent *** 1/2
The Realistic Joneses ***
Lady Day At Emerson's Bar & Grill ***
The Library **
South Pacific ** 1/2
Violet ***
Bullets Over Broadway **
Of Mice And Men **

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

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

"So, wanna curate a booth with me at Photo Independent?" Of course I said yes. I love curating. And saying yes comes easily to me when it involves art. Then came the kicker: My friend asking, noted SoCal art world photographer, fellow HuffPost contributor and man-about-town Eric Minh Swenson, dropped this on me: "It's gonna be all fetish photographers and the title of the show is EMSex." EMSex, Eric Minh Swenson + sex. None of his work, only erotic/fetish photographers he respects and admires.

Most people who know me know I'm not squeamish about sex. And those who are lucky enough to be intimate with me know that I'm certainly no prude. Vanilla, sure, but not a prude. Still for me, BDSM and fetish photography with women as the submissive raise questions about power, dominance, women's work, men's work, pain for pay, and the most recent Senate vote which blocked equal pay for women. Granted, there's more to fetish/erotic photography than ropes and rubber cat suits. For me the challenge would be to create a cohesive, compelling exhibition that was that would showcase the artists while revealing aspects of Eric Minh Swenson.

EMS is a driven dude -- he's shot 400 artist mini-documentaries and thousands of stills of artists, gallerists and collectors, as well as four feature films and a full-length art documentary, Mana, that's in post-production -- He's also getting over a major heartbreak by throwing himself even more into work. And he's a good friend who trusts me, and pretty much said, "Go for it. Here's who's in the show."

I decided to curate who EMS is, based on the photographers he'd selected, choosing the photos not for purely erotic content but for context and composition and the larger concept (who is Eric Minh Swenson?), especially for Photo Independent's inaugural show which runs concurrently with Paris Photo LA and across the street at Raleigh Studios, April 25-27.

Photo Independent focuses on individual artists, with over 70 photographers from around the world. It's the first photographer-only art fair showcasing fine art photographers, and provides a unique forum of exchange between photographers and art professionals. EMSex is one of several special exhibitions at Photo Independent that include the American Aperture Awards (AX3) Photography Competition, and Robert Heinecken's 1968 "Venus Mirrored," presented by Medicines Global. Off The Wall magazine, Treats! magazine and Curatorial Assistance, Art & Exhibition Services are also presenting special exhibitions, as is the Los Angeles Art Association which is the beneficiary of the Friday gala opening party honoring Andy Summers. Summers, while best known as the guitarist for the Police, is also a fine art photographer, and his series, "Mysterious Barricades" will be on exhibit.

The first step in any curation is to look at the art (duh), and see how it flows into the conscious and unconscious concept. It was natural to use Robert Adler's 1970s burlesque shots because they were the photos that launched his career and thus a nod to how Eric's photos of the art world have propelled his career. Adler's images of women gazing in mirrors or boldly confronting a camera brought to my mind how Eric reflects upon himself and then boldly goes forth. From Steve Diet Goedde I chose early pieces from his time in Chicago, a piece he shot after moving to LA and playful, iconic works, all commentaries on Eric's journey as a photographer of iconic artists in Los Angeles. Ed Fox's work in EMSex merges his glamour and candid shots, and is lush and honest -- qualities that Eric brings to his portraits. Victor Lightworship's black-and-white images create a dialogue between the subject and the viewer, as well as subtly addressing philosophical issues, all concepts found in EMS' work. Dave Naz is a close friend of Eric's and Eric documents Naz's shoots in ongoing collaborative films and stills complied as "3way Series." With each of these photographers I tried to choose at least one work that had an element of the candid or the unexpected. The wild card was Eric Kroll, the grandfather of new erotic photography who is sending me framed images, sight unseen. And in a way that's perfect since part of curating, like shooting is trust. And surprise.

I think Eric Minh Swenson will be surprised by the works I've chosen out the photographers he selected, and by how I am planning to hang them -- though really sometimes that plan changes as the art sits together, and one's well conceived wall plotting goes out the door as an epiphany strikes. Or simply because of practicality!

It's been an adventure to look at the work of these photographers (or in the case of Kroll, visualizing them over the phone) and to develop a show and storyline that fits into the idea of EMSex and Eric Minh Swenson, a smart, sensitive guy who is part playboy, part Boy Scout, who gives the impression of being an open book and yet who is one of the most mysterious (and sought after) bachelors in Los Angeles. (Yes, ladies, he's single, so drop by the booth!) And it's been an internal adventure for me to analyze and process a wide range of fetish and erotic photography, to choose works which do not necessarily produce the most immediate visceral (or perhaps genital) reaction, but which have a degree of humor, tenderness, subtlety and seduction, hopefully bringing a feminine touch to revealing what is primarily a male-centric genre.

Steve Diet Goedde


Ed Fox

Poetry is how we say to the world, and to each other, "I am here." Some of my most beloved poets -- Walt Whitman, Langston Hughes, Billy Collins and Naomi Shihab Nye -- talk about poetry as a way to document the world and our common experiences, to say what needs to be said in a direct, powerful and beautiful way.

After 9/11, when poetry was flowing in a steady and necessary stream across the Internet, someone asked Billy Collins why that phenomenon was happening and he said: "Because poetry tells the story of the human heart." Poems were the kind of urgent and comforting storytelling we needed then, and the kinds of stories we need every day. Poetry matters to the little girl in Philippines who is discovering who she is and why her language sounds like a song in her poem. It matters to the boy in foster care who is trying to find new ways to express his frustrations, but also his deepest dreams. It matters to Syrian refugees who are longing to hold tight to their dearest memories of home and to tell their stories of strength and resilience going forward.

Through poetry, children find freedom to share their story in a way that feels good and is true to their own deepest selves. From urban communities to the most rural areas, we are all the same humanity: we hunger for ways to express ourselves that feel the most true, and bend to our most human voices to create new shapes in the world.

Poetry matters because it is both free and deeply structured. There is a certain kind of freedom that comes from writing a poem without ending punctuation, or playing with sentence fragments, but there is also the joy that comes from operating within the constraints of poetry's unique structures: from haiku to sonnets to ballads to cinquains to odes. For a child seeking to express and share an idea, the structure of a poem provides a container, a vessel to hold onto a big idea or to generously share the most tender moments of the heart and mind.

Poetry can be a game-changer for struggling writers and language learners. Once liberated to express themselves in a way that makes sense to them, suddenly, they realize that their thoughts and feelings can make sense to others. A whole new pathway opens up and writers and readers, speakers and listeners speak the same language -- the language of human experience.

Simple language can convey big and important ideas. No one understood this better than Langston Hughes. He wrote at a time when the nation was changing before his eyes, and yet when so many of his friends and family members were struggling readers themselves. His poems, from April Rain Song "Let the rain kiss you..." to The Black Man Speaks: "I swear to the Lord/I still can't see/ Why Democracy means/ Everybody but me." spoke in a troubled time in a clear and direct way. His powerful call for a more beautiful and just world resonated with all. Someone once said: "Poetry, like bread, is for everyone." And these, our greatest poets, know this to be true.

Recently, the Syrian writer and translator Ghada Alatrash spoke about how poetry has deeply mattered to the Syrian people throughout history. Today, she is seeing an explosion of new poetry, which expresses the anguished voices of the people at a time when their country is experiencing catastrophic losses. In spite of the flames of tragedy, a poem is a glowing ember, making visible the power of hope, and the human spirit. We must not only read and watch, we are called by the poet to bring the flame back to the ember, to do what we can to help people not only to survive, but to thrive.

Let poetry matter to you, to your children, and let's together give it a chance to matter to many more children around the world. Be courageous and put your own story, what you are feeling and experiencing right now, into a poem, today. Encourage children to fall in love with poetry by reading aloud to them from the great poets whose names you know, and also the ones who are publishing now on their own, whose names will matter to us because we want to know their stories. Find a way to support children's stories, poems and voices around the world by championing their right to go to school and to learn to read and write. In this way, we can all break bread with people around the world, through their own voices and their own stories, through the vessels they build with the words they create out of the lives they live.

A good song can only do good, and I am proud of the songs I have sung." - Pete Seeger

Pete Seeger knew the power of song. Through it, he influenced generations of people across the country and world. He was one of the few artists to take the power of music and use it to inspire people to move America toward a more equitable society.

He represented the effectiveness of the singing word, as opposed to the use of fists and guns, and his activism was as effective as his singing. He worked with major movements of the 20th and 21st centuries -- labor rights, civil rights, peace and environmental justice.

Music is one of the few things in life that brings people together regardless of economic background, race, gender, religion, education or sexual orientation. It can even cause a convening of people from different countries and languages. Harmony can cause people who have never met before to start to match that harmony in song. Trying to match the harmony of a song can translate to different people coming together for something desired in all communities -- real and positive change.

Pete Seeger first came to the Highlander Center in 1940 with fellow folk singer Woody Guthrie. They were visiting Guthrie's family in Texas and were advised "to take a detour and swing by this place in Tennessee." Seeger said he was "mightily impressed" and found there "real people finding a real voice and learning how to use it."

Seeger came back to Highlander several times over the years, including once catching a bus on a weekend pass while stationed in the Army in Alabama in 1944 and leading the singing at Highlander's 25th anniversary in 1957. On that occasion, he met this "powerful, young man," Martin Luther King Jr.

Seeger first came into the hearts of younger people through the PBS show "Reading Rainbow." On a particular episode, he sang the words to a book he had written about a South African folktale called "Abiyoyo." That episode was the perfect way of connecting young people to the past. He was unapologetic about illustrating current issues through song, and he was actually successful with that message.

Seeger's passing this year, in the year of significant civil and human rights' 50th anniversaries, is a reminder of what we have gained and the work still ahead of us. One of those anniversaries is the War on Poverty. It is a poignant part of remembering Seeger as his singing reached for the humanity, the fairness, the justice, the equal voice for America's families and communities.

"Well I got a hammer and I got a bell and I got a song to sing all over this land. It's the hammer of justice, it's the bell of freedom. It's a song about love between my brothers and my sisters..."

- Pete Seeger

The War on Poverty was a multi-tiered supported by the President Johnson administration to reduce the U.S. poverty rate, which at the time was 26 percent. Despite historic and current day efforts to discredit the War on Poverty, numerous studies hold its benefits and lift up the role of government accountable to its people in helping meet the needs of the most vulnerable.

The War on Poverty expanded Social Security, created Medicare and Medicaid, moved food stamps from a pilot to a permanent one, created Head Start, Job Corps and VISTA. They are programs that -- despite attacks -- continue today. It also established the Office of Economic Opportunity, which was gutted in the mid-1970s and dismantled in 1981. The civil rights movement deserves much credit for the actions taken to address poverty for all races during this time.

Out of the civil rights movement, early hip-hop addressed the poverty and struggles of inner-city youth in the 1980s and 1990s. Most of those songs dealt with troubling issues of the day stemming from drug abuse to gang violence and police brutality. They had the microphone to use as a weapon as Seeger did with his banjo. Rappers like Nas knew that he only needed "One Mic" to bring about change. The 1980s and 1990s were full of protest songs that gave the masses a sense of reflection to decide what to do.

Public Enemy's "Fight the Power" was the essential song to question our current systems of oppression and empowered youth to have a more socially conscious mind in a time where drugs infiltrated the streets. "The Message" by Grandmaster Flash and Furious Five gave America a reflection of how drugs destroyed families in the African-American community.

The risk-taking in Seeger's music also could be seen in Tupac Shakur's creative work. He was unapologetic in his passion to use music to not only illuminate America's ills but to confront those ills, as well. Tupac's "Trapped" questioned the use of police brutality and the prison industrial complex. For his efforts, Dan Quayle, vice president at the time, said, "There's no reason for a record like this to be released. It has no place in our society."

Folk music and rap music have many parallels. Artists from both genres have a sense of awareness and know the urgency of laying out the message of the times through storytelling. Artists from both genres also faced confrontations with the government from Seeger being blacklisted for Communism to rappers being accused of glorifying violence that existed long before rap. They knew how much impact their music made with the youth and how the status quo saw those artists as dangerous. Seeger's "Take it from Dr. King" about protesting the Iraq War goes along well with Talib Kweli's "The Proud," which questioned the reasoning behind the "War on Terror." Both knew that the world will change through grassroots organizing by the people, no matter how "small" they are.

"Song, songs, kept them going and going;

They didn't realize the millions of seeds they were sowing.

They were singing in marches, even singing in jail.

Songs gave them the courage to believe they would not fail"

- Pete Seeger

"Welcome to the world, we here

We've been at, war for years but it's much more clear

We got to face what lies ahead

Fight for our truth and freedom and, ride for the dead" - Talib Kweli

Pete Seeger thought that small organizations doing what needs to be done have the ability to change the world. Those small organizations, as well as families and communities, help us add up to something bigger through our work together, tackling similar and new battle lines in today's continued War on Poverty. With more than 46 million people living in poverty in the U.S., including 9.2 million families, Seeger and the War on Poverty are reminders of what can be accomplished when families and communities build strength to hold government accountable to its people instead of corporate interests.

These days, too much popular music is confined to commercialism and lack of depth, which could be contributed to artists not taking risk to use their gifts for the greater good. The notion that audiences now would not accept a singer-activist belies the fact that many of the most well-known artists were deep in the movements of their day. In the 1950s and 1960s and into the 1970s, it was common for popular artists to infuse social justice into music. In addition to Seeger and Woody Guthrie, there was Nina Simone, Joni Mitchell, Stevie Wonder and Marvin Gaye. Too much music now tends to emphasize more fun than focus, more vanity than veracity. Seeger's story is evidence that when used in the right way, music makes you move to the sounds and then moves you into thought. That moves you into action.

At the Highlander Center, we are still known for putting singing into movement building. Highlander has worked at that nexus of art, culture and social change throughout its history from its earliest years -- when Zilphia Johnson arrived in east Tennessee from Arkansas, married Highlander founder Myles Horton and integrated music, plays and dance into all aspects of Highlander's work -- to today.

As Pete Seeger's singing names some of the challenges we face, his music also gives us solutions as seen in his call-and-response song for the collective will and staying power we need in this work together for justice, fairness and equality. For equal voice.

One day, one day

I was walking along,

And I spied a little child,

Just a-singing a song

About haulin' together,

And keepin' in time.

Hauling on a halyard,

Making up a rhyme.

It's a long haul

It's a high haul

It's a job for the many

Not just for the few

It's a job for everybody

That's me and you.

- Pete Seeger

Co-authored by Dr. Agnieszka Bachfischer

A new font called Comic Neue, by Sydney-born designer Craig Rozynski, has been trending online in the past few weeks. The font was developed, in the designer's words, "to save Comic Sans," one of the most famous and criticized fonts ever.

It took three years for Rozynski to develop the font. But was it worth the effort? And does it save Comic Sans, as it was intended to?

Using Comic Sans is on the big-type-crime list of any designer. Plans are being forged to end its world dominance at The Ban Comic Sans group. In the Comic Sans Must Die project, every day one individual glyph of Comic Sans was symbolically "destroyed" online in a short animation, for all to see.

Even Google makes it very clear what "the most hated font" is:

How does a font become so hated?

Microsoft released the original font in 1994. Its American creator Vincent Connare objected to a serious and formal font, Times New Roman, used in a test version of "Bob" -- so designed Comic Sans to replace it in the speech bubbles of Bob's cartoon characters.

Connare never intended for the font to be used in any other way. Slowly though, Comic Sans made its way to everywhere text was used -- door signage, exam papers, medical information, official letters and so on.

Fonts have a huge impact on setting the tone and mood of printed or displayed messages, made clear on The Conversation by design academic Louise McWhinnie. The term "visual language" refers to those meanings created by the appearance of text and image, meanings that enhance the text's literal meaning.

There are fonts that can convey professionalism or seriousness, but Comic Sans is not one of them.

Comic Sans is the funny, friendly, cute, cheer-up, informal, good-for-a-child's-birthday-party-invite font. When so widely used outside this context -- in the announcement of Higgs boson particle discovery, say, or Pope Benedict's resignation letter in the Vatican's online photo album -- the mismatch between the literal meaning of a text's message and the font's added meaning of infantility and fun creates a new meaning of immaturity, unprofessionalism, or pretentiousness.

This misuse in wrong contexts, together with the font's ubiquity enlarging the scale of the problem, is probably the main reason behind the worldwide hatred. Which is ironic, considering that Comic Sans was created precisely to solve the problem of a different font's misuse in a wrong context, yet this is exactly what would happen to it, on a massive scale, in years to come.

A verdict on Comic Neue

How has the worldwide misuse, especially by non-designers, been addressed in the new release of Comic Neue? It seems it hasn't. According to the Comic Neue website, it was the weirdness of Comic Sans that Comic Neue tries to fix, its "squashed, wonky, and weird glyphs." This has been achieved.

Comic Sans was drawn up to imitate the style of hand-lettered comics. Each letter was conceived individually. Unlike in many other fonts, the horizontal strokes in the uppercase "E" are different to their equivalents in the uppercase "F"; lowercase "p" and "d" are not just the same forms rotated 180 degrees.

Lines are crooked, and angles of vertical strokes vary greatly -- the lowercase "g" leans to the right compared to the lowercase "j" which leans to the left -- as you would expect from a child's handwriting. None of this is true in Comic Neue.

The unified appearance and clearness of the font is based on repeating familiar established forms. The look and feel of Comic Sans is like that of a rough and cute (childlike) handwritten typeface. Comic Neue is the corporate version of handwriting: efficient and uniform. Comic Neue also seems more legible, mainly because of bigger "counters" (the empty bit in "p", for instance).

The quirkiness of Comic Sans is gone, but what does that actually leave us with? Comic Neue, according to its website, is meant as:

the casual script choice for everyone ... perfect as a display face, for marking up comments, and writing passive aggressive office memos.

Is it still meant to look like handwriting? Is it a child's handwriting, or maybe that of an office worker? Is it still meant to convey fun and playfulness, or is it serious? Is it "the casual script choice" or not? Connare gave some feedback on Twitter:

should be more casual RT @craigrozynski:you inspired my first typographical project, http://t.co/Z9UopJrwsu.love to get ur opinion,

— Vincent Connare (@VincentConnare) April 7, 2014

The website's cheeky message, "make your lemonade stand look like a Fortune 500 company", that conveys aspiring professionalism does not help to clarify. What does the font make the lemonade stand look like?

Comic Neue tries to save Comic Sans by creating a different, more aesthetically pleasing and "proper" font -- though getting rid of the essence of Comic Sans in the process. The new font may not get so misused, but with its playful and quirky quality gone, and with its not very clear identity, will people have a reason to use it at all?

Rather than create a new font, why not just change the name of Comic Sans to "Children's Party" -- for where it belongs?

Dr. Gerhard Bachfischer is an Austrian-born and Sydney-based typographer/designer/lecturer/academic with over 25 years of experience. He is currently the course director for the Bachelor of Visual Communication at the University of Technology, Sydney (UTS) where he tries to convince students and colleagues alike about the importance of typography and its proper use.

This post first appeared on The Conversation.

There is one particular person responsible for my love of Brazilian cinema. While I sit and watch movies, day after day, never tiring of it, I've discovered it's way more fun to bring other viewers along on the exceptional journey I've been allowed to embark on, learning through the masterpieces I've been lucky enough to experience how to navigate the world with more humanity. And meeting filmmakers up close who explain, through their very presence, the meaning of life.

Life as that necessary cycle of sadness, happiness, success and disappointment, with some really memorable moments that make up for the mundane.

It's no surprise that Sandro Fiorin of FiGa Films has sent this latest masterpiece, Castanha my way. It is just one in a series of very perfect accidents in the great wheel of daily joy that is movie watching for me. The film just happens to be in NYC at this time, enjoying its North American premiere at the Film Society of Lincoln Center, part of their Art of the Real 2014 series.

Brazilian cinema for me always possesses a dream-like quality that is punctuated by the grittiness of everyday life. Castanha is no exception, but it does add another layer to the puzzle. Because the film is a narrative about a real character, João Carlos Castanha, his real mother Celina and their daily life -- but it's not a documentary.

Palestinian filmmaker Hany Abu-Assad has said about some of his more real-to-life films (like the controversial Ford Transit) that they are "100 percent reality and 100 percent fiction" and this can also be the perfect way to describe director Davi Pretto's first feature length film. While inspired by the life of 52-year-old actor-slash-cross-dressing-erotic-club-hostess Castanha, the film reinterprets some events from his life and blends them perhaps with those moments we've all dreamed about secretly, the perfect shots from our cinematic, private lives. Castanha himself is divinely charismatic, a perfect aging rockstar who is haunted by his own demons: the loss of the love of his life to AIDS and the need to be there for his single mother, as her only son.

Pretto admits that his desire to make the film came out of working with Castanha since film school, and explains further "I can still recall my fascination for his face, traits, expressions and his piercing gaze when acting." Then concludes, "from that came the urge to make a film for that face. An actor piece." And that Castanha is, through and through, because we as the audience never truly find out where fiction ends and reality begins. It's a wonderfully tantalizing formula that works perfectly in this case, with a subject worthy of all his close-ups and a filmmaker who dares to blur the lines, without apologies.

Through Castanha, Pretto also says, "I strengthen my position on cinema -- that it is about encounters between people. Between those with a story to be told and those who want to tell stories." The magical world of cinema is an active meeting of great minds, those of the filmmakers but also of the audience. Without one there is no other and each side must always be aware of that, to remove the strange distance we sometimes feel from the artists. With Pretto's film, I felt like I was on a journey along with Castanha, an extraordinary man with many ordinary moments and a life like mine in its successes but also its many failures. When a film does that deeply, it's a triumph.

I'll let Pretto's words sum it all up best: "I believe the film ends up as a realistic portrayal of this character. After all, my only idea since the beginning was to be coherent with what João lives and breaths as art and life. And if one word can sum him up, it is freedom." Freedom.

Image courtesy of FiGa Films, used with permission