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An Entry/Exit Blur

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Kiki Seror's work vibrates actively between concepts of seduction, sexuality, privacy and voyeurism, engaging herself and the viewer in moments of intimacy and surprise. She taps into the use of surveillance and technology and enters the world of online sexual platforms from chat rooms to porn sites, all with the eye of a painter and with the inquisitive nature of a pioneer. As an actual trailblazer in the realm of digital art, Kiki is relentlessly curious in her exploration of material, method and experience as seen in the breadth of her work from Chatroulette performances to stereolithography. I recently visited Kiki in her studio to talk about her work and our conversation ended up encompassing ideas of forming identity, being surprised and being seduced.

Virginia Broersma: So...easy question: what are you working on right now?

Kiki Seror: As you've witnessed, I'm in the middle of stretching some canvases. So in my next pieces I'll be going back to painting. I think my move to Los Angeles has made me want to be physical and work with my hands. L.A. is a physical and material city. Greatest joy is to work out unique techiques to image making. I feel that truly sets my work apart. I really want to question whether or not the image I am making is still going to be a painting. Or even if I use a photographic means, is it a photograph? Is it just an image? So really trying to go between these scenarios. Somewhere between action painting and documentary photography.

So that describes some of the technical aspects of your work. In regard to subject matter, I wanted to talk with you about two oppositional or perhaps complementary ideas I see in your work: intimacy and detachment. One of the first pieces of your work that I saw in person was "Modus Operandi" - a video piece that is a close-up of a woman applying makeup (so it's very intimate) and you feel very close and connected to the person. Then in some of your other work, you create more distance between the viewer and the image through blurring and layering to distort the image. Do you think of your work in those terms -- intimacy and detachment?

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I do -- it's ironic, for instance in "Modus Operandi," I'm working with imagery of the woman and her toiletry, or a ritual of putting on makeup that can be so intimate. However, the actual production of it is a video camera on top of the makeup brush...the models did not know how they were going to look, so there's a realism, and maybe that is the intimacy. Even though it's a very personal moment when you're putting on the makeup, it is this unknown mirror -- surveillance -- and that they have no idea how they were going to be seen, even though they are doing everything to be seen.

2014-05-06-kikikiki2.jpg I also find it interesting and somewhat surprising that the pieces that feel more detached (in some ways) are the pieces that are more sexual in nature. Is a sense of detachment something you are aiming for?

It's the uncertainty. There's this duality that exists online; is it going to be porn or is it going to be romance? It just happens to be about sexuality because when you're interacting online, there is possible exposure to unfiltered/uncensored user-generated content, what happens in a group setting is that it debases to the lowest common denominator, and fortunately or not, it's been about sexuality. So when does sexuality become pornography? It's not that I'm detached; it's that I think I am going back and forth. The motion of entering and exiting the online social space is what's creating a blur. Am I being seduced? Or is this just a part of being objectified online? The subject is the medium, and not an object.

Another blurring that happens in your work is the between the distinction between public and private. You talk about surveillance, and obviously you work with intimate themes... my question is twofold -- how do you think about incorporating others, specifically in the pieces that are online that involve another person -- and then also how you think about incorporating yourself and allowing for yourself to be publicly visible in private things?

What I was known for or first got attention for doing was adult sex chat lines, we were all anonymous in the chat rooms back in the beginning, the original social media . That was almost a call and answer to words without a face -- like a jazz musician. I put out a tune -- like, "(whatever my url name was) enters the room,waves hi, with dildo in hand, waiting for instructions." In a way I am teasing but I'm looking to be teased as well.

Years later, I entered Chatroulette. I learned how to in a way bypass a flash input signal, and then I had running in the background on my desktop a software which acted as a broadcast blue screen, and then have that person see themselves come through me, as they were looking at me. It's heavy: allegory. They were surprised. You think you're safe, you're in your home, but you want to be seen. You think that being seen is vulnerable enough, but wait 'til you see your image manipulated by somebody else -- that's vulnerability! And that was the piece.

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One of the problems I've seen with work that incorporates women in any exchange regarding sex/sexuality/gender is that it ends up as exploitation, despite its best intentions. Do you think about exploitation in your work?

I do -- that's one of the reasons I first worked with language. I felt that language itself, in a way, was more personal than the representation of my body would have been. My heroes -- the feminist performers of the 70's like Hannah Wilke -- their critique was they were so beautiful and, in a way, they kind of exploited themselves, or they weren't taken seriously. I just didn't even want that to be an issue.

What's the most challenging or disliked part of your process?

Oh! That's probably the exhibit! (laughs) because to me, the work is so dead by that point! No, it's not that it's the most disappointing, it's the saddest part. It's hard for me to repeat myself. In a way I'm against signature style. One of my heroes is Martin Kippenberger and why? Because he never bores me and I know that guy was never bored in the studio himself.

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What's your favorite part of your process?

My favorite part is when I set out to do something technically, and it does something else and I'm surprised by it. Or I had no idea the medium could handle it. It's the unknowing that I'm happy with, and striving for, what I need in order to create. To witness, at that moment the outcome is magic. The second time I repeat a result, I know I own the method, but to keep repeating a style is tragic. I guess I get bored easily with the familiar.

Where can we see your work?

I am pleased to be included in a book called Artists Talks, a collection of interviews conducted by Gerald Malt from the Vienna Kunsthalle, published by Moderne Kunst Nürnberg. That's coming out this June and it's funny because that's an interview that was conducted around 2007-2008 and it's just being published! I think looking back at those words and at that time will be interesting.

Then I'm in a two group shows. First one is curated by Tucker Neel called "May Contain Explicit Imagery" will be CB1 Gallery, Los Angeles in the summer. And the second show called "Itch, Scratch, Scar," will open in September and be held at The Fellows of Contemporary Art (FOCA), Los Angeles.

Kiki is represented by CB1 Gallery in Los Angeles, and you can also view her work online here.

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The PSA Crew: Keeping the Streets Safe for Street Art

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Meet The P.S.A. Crew. Eluding law enforcement and surviving in the Los Angeles Underground, this elite band of street artists engages in civic-minded service through subversive means. This A-Team of taggers has been seen all over town defacing corporate ads posing as street art, putting up progressive orgs stickers, and promoting a civil code of conduct among the street art community. Working in the public interest, the PSA Crew eschews the recognition most street artists crave.

"I love it when a plan comes together!"



The street artists seen in this action-packed action montage include Morley, LydiaEmily, Toolz, and Teacher, but by no means are they the only artists in league with PSA. You can see more of these artists at work in the new book Where Else But The Streets.

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Fun Fact: Our zoom-in shot of the Los Angeles skyline in this video is nearly identical to the original A-Team opening, because we work in the building previously occupied by Stephen J. Cannell Productions, creator of "The A-Team" and numerous other 70s and 80s hit shows, and they basically used the same balcony.

Polly Morgan on Her Latest Exhibition and the Resuscitation of Taxidermy

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Start a conversation about British contemporary art and Polly Morgan's name will undoubtedly come up. Her work is critically acclaimed, and also attracts the interest of celebrity collectors such as Kate Moss and Courtney Love who willingly offer six-figure sums to have one of her pieces in their lives.

Morgan is also one of the reasons why we have seen an upsurge in taxidermy, a fact she fully acknowledges and is not entirely comfortable with. With no regulatory practice in place, it seems you can't swing a stuffed cat in East London without knocking over a scalpel-wielding wannabe. As someone who has studied the craft of taxidermy for over ten years, Morgan couldn't be further removed.

Ahead of the opening of her latest exhibition at the Pippy Houldsworth Gallery in Mayfair, London, we met with the artist to discuss her first time with a snake, taxidermy posers and the many meanings of the word box.

How did this exhibition come about? Did The Box inspire the concept or was this an existing idea that you wanted to do anyway?

It was a little bit of both. I'd wanted to deconstruct taxidermy and show the inner workings in some way but I hadn't had an idea that I liked enough. I knew I wanted to do it with a snake because they're quite phallic and banana-like and the idea of peeling back on something cylindrical like that seemed to work. So there was a germ of an idea there, then Pippy Houldsworth got in touch and asked if I'd be interested in doing a project for The Box.

Suddenly that initial germ of an idea started to materialize, because it felt really appropriate -- the idea of the snake and the branch being quite phallus-like and then the box, slang for vagina, which is obviously an opening.

How did you find working within the space?

I really like being given restrictions to work within, like when you have to create something for a particular space or a piece that aligns with a particular idea. Although my first reaction is always to panic and think, "oh no I can't do what I want," but then I find it really helpful as you can suddenly discard so many things and it narrows down your focus.

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You're the first person to go through the glass and branch outside of The Box...

Yeah, "outside of the box," I keep saying that and Jon [exhibitions manager at Pippy Houldsworth] was like, "You have to stop saying that." Apparently I am so we'll see how that goes down. I've done quite a few things like that before. For the Endless Plains show I cremated some birds and drew the nests with the cremated remains and then put a dead bird on top of the frame. It was shown in a museum in Scotland and one of the invigilators wrenched the bird off and threw it in the bin because he thought a bird had flown in, got stuck and died on there. When the woman from the museum called me, she expected me to freak out but I thought it was really funny and quite sweet really.

What is this work about?

It's about things unravelling. They start very perfectly, then slowly the inner workings become apparent. It's like when you get to know someone or something really well. Your first perception and the reality are always so different and I wanted to somehow illustrate that with taxidermy. So I made the head of the snake and the branch perfectly rendered. But once the skin has been stitched up, it starts to fade drastically so I had to paint it to look like the real thing, but as you go down the body it's really faded and the real materials come through.

I don't want to be as specific as to say it's about two people in love and the breakdown of a relationship, I use that as an example because it's the most obvious thing I suppose. I'm thinking much more generally about the difference between initial perception and reality and how different the two are. There's a huge gaping chasm between them, and taxidermy is a perfect way of illustrating that. The whole idea is to make something look like something else, it's a kind of trick I suppose.

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Can you tell me more about the process?

I did the snake from the tail to the head and I was really peeling it like a banana and that takes a while because you have to cut through the membrane and be careful not to knick the skin. Then you defat and deflesh the skin and build a body based on the original one so you're effectively building a sculpture based on what you've just removed and putting the skin back on it. Because this one is wrapped around a branch I used quite a lot of modeling material called Compo which is a mixture of paper pulp and plaster. But you have to imagine how the body would have moved or responded to the branch so you have to do that from observation and looking at lots of pictures. I carved the head out of some foam with a little bit of modeling material and then used glass for the eyes.

I really enjoyed it, it's the first snake I've ever done.

Do you think you'll work more with snakes?

Yes, definitely, I've got a show coming up in Exeter where I'm going to shape a snake in a figure of eight with no head or tail. My assistant has been trying to get hold of some for me, calling up pet shops and places and we were having no luck whatsoever. Then on Monday, after literally spending the whole day on the phone she said there's a guy with a whole freezer full of snakes and you can have them! So on Friday she's going to a reptile centre in Bristol with a suitcase and she's going to fill it with dead frozen snakes and come back again. I know! Mental.

Where did this snake come from?

It was this guy's pet. He normally sends me birds, the snake was kind of thrown in. Totally unexpected!

So you have regular suppliers that you source from?

I have loads, I've got a book full of people who keep birds and various animals. If I'm looking for something specific I'll target, actually target sounds much more aggressive than it should do! I'll look online and find out who breeds the animals or who was there at the point of death and then I'll start calling around and say that if in the future anything dies can they let me know. Generally people respond pretty well to it but you do get the occasional "fuck off." Trial and error really.

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I read that you're moving away from taxidermy?

I'm not moving away from it, I just don't want to crow bar it into my work for the sake of it just because I think that's what is expected of me. I have made some works without any taxidermy in at all and it's quite scary in a way because I wonder if anyone will take any notice or care! So far they've been quite well received but they're few and far between at the moment.

The taxidermy craze seems to still be in full swing. I can pay £80 and sign up for a course where I go home with my very own bat in a bell jar. What are your thoughts on it all?

I don't mind that it's become popular, I don't own taxidermy. When I started 10 years ago all the practitioners that I knew were really concerned that it was going to die out so it's great that it has become popular and an old craft has been reinvigorated. But I am so sick of seeing stuffed heads with crystals dripping from them and all that crap. The issue is that people are doing it very badly, there are people running those courses who can't do taxidermy and they're teaching some very poor skills.

You can't learn it overnight. I wouldn't feel confident holding a class and I've been doing it for 10 years. Unfortunately, there's no regulation so people can capitalize and rip people off because it has become a trend. And then there's this weird thing of people trying to get famous through taxidermy, like these girls on Instagram calling themselves "hot taxidermists" stood next to a dead animal. I don't like the fetishizing of death that goes with it, people posing with the corpses with red lips and high heels on. Very weird and pretty tasteless.

Saying that, I'm optimistic. Cream rises to the top.

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How do you feel about being becoming a pin-up for contemporary British art?

I don't know about that! I mean it's great because obviously I want my work to be seen but I've never courted the press and I say no to a lot of things, especially TV. I would hate to get to a point where I thought it was taking over the work and I did feel a bit like that at one point so I pulled back a bit.

What TV did you say no to?

There was this awful one where the production company said they would get however many Z list celebrities on and I would have to teach them taxidermy. Loads of weird reality stuff that I would just never do. On the other hand I did this amazing thing called What Do Artists Do All Day? which was great. I was really nervous about it but it was all about the work and it was a nice old fashioned documentary which I really liked. I don't really like being filmed though, I find it hard to get on.

Images courtesy of Polly Morgan

Text by Leila De Vito for Crane.tv

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Sometimes a Hitchcock Is Just a Hitchcock: The Lovesong of Alfred J. Hitchcock at 59E59 Theaters

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Martin Miller in THE LOVESONG OF ALFRED J HITCHCOCK, part of Brits Off Broadway at 59E59 Theaters. Photo by Carol Rosegg.

In the spirit of full disclosure, I'm the first to admit that I'm a pretty big Hitchcock fan. I own several collections of his movies, I can tell you the difference between the silent and later versions of several of his movies, and will gladly discuss why I think Rope is the most underrated (formerly lost) of his movies. All of this means that I both love everything to do with the trademark British director while having very high expectations and standards about such things.

When I first saw that a show called The Lovesong of Alfred J. Hitchcock was coming to 59E59 Theaters, I was both excited and skeptical. By the time I walked into the theatre and saw a director's chair emblazoned with "Mr. Hitchcock" to the tuneless squawking of birds, I was ready to see what this offering from Brits Off Broadway Festival could do.

David Rudkin's play begins when the lights come up on our Mr. Hitchock, Martin Miller. Miller's Hitchock begins by taking us through what sounds like a treatment (a shot by shot description of the a movie) that is never named, but is recognizable. His voice is low and somewhat slow, though it has bursts of creative activity. As Hitch proceeds through various backgrounds for a shot of a woman in black heels walking away from the camera, he has a flashback of his life as a small child with his mother.

This quickly establishes a pattern we see throughout the piece: Hitch had Mommy issues. This concept is furthered as we realize that the same actress plays Hitch's mother and wife: the engaging Roberta Kerr. The world behind Hitch's movies is represented onstage by Kerr, along with Anthony Wise and Tom McHugh, who play various roles. We see Hitch working with McHugh's American screenwriter as they go on a Freudian flight of fancy in order to come up with a different kind of story and we see Hitch's teacher wonder why Hitch wouldn't want to receive a punishment immediately instead of holding himself in suspense.

The first act alternates neatly between scenes that directly relate to Hitch making movies and those previous experiences that informed those choices. It is here that the Hitchcock nerd in me was the most delighted, as the simple staging choices from director Jack McNamara used Juliet Shillingford's stage in a way that I think Hitch would have loved. Shadows, sound effects, and that famous Bernard Hermann music from iconic films like Vertigo and Psycho all work together to bring the mood of Hitchcock into that theater.

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L-R: Roberta Kerr and Martin Miller in THE LOVESONG OF ALFRED J HITCHCOCK, part of Brits Off Broadway at 59E59 Theaters. Photo by Carol Rosegg.

The second act, however, slows down a bit as it spends more time with Miller exploring Hitch's dark Freudian desires. Here is where the production stopped being as enjoyable for me. McNamara's direction lets Miller get a bit too over the top for my taste. I understand the benefit of peeling back Hitch's seemingly imperturbable exterior, but the other extreme simply doesn't seem Hitchockian to me. Stylized acting works for a play about Hitchcock, but when mixed with a sort of melodramatic naturalism, the two things together don't convey Hitch's persona or his movies to me the way I want them to.

Again, I'm unsure whether I'd be happy with anything other than a Hitchcock look-alike who could bring Alfred Hitchcock back to life in front of me so that I could marvel at him, and I found the show quite entertaining and clever, especially in the first act. I also hesitate to say that Alfred Joseph Hitchcock can be so fully explained by a simple Freudian allegory. Though Hitch's films have a firm basis in psychoanalysis and are often most ingenious because of their clear archetypes and plots, this show sells the Master of Suspense a bit short. I do not think this is the intention at all, and for the most part The Lovesong of Alfred J. Hitchock plays out as a wonderfully researched Hitchcock homage.

Despite these faults, I would say that this show is an absolute must for any Hitchcock fan. It runs about two hours with an intermission and plays through May 25. Sitting in the theatre is actually a sort of trivia game for super-fans, as trying to catch the allusions and jokes in the script is a great deal of fun. If you know nothing about Hitch, I think you can still have a fun time, though prior knowledge is definitely to your benefit here. In any case, if you were wondering, gentlemen, sometimes a Hitchcock is just a Hitchcock.

Mothers and Sons, Literally

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Ours is a theater family. I have two sons currently studying theater in college, and as often as we can, we find our way to the theater. It was therefore no surprise that this mother would find herself in the audience of Terrence McNally's Mothers and Sons, sitting between her gay twin sons.

As I look back on my journey of motherhood, I remember my early epiphany. Newly pregnant, I went to my second OB-GYN appointment with Dr. Cherry (yes, that was his name) on Park Avenue. At that moment I recognized that while the nine-month gestation period is necessary to grow a fetus, it is also the time necessary to learn how to worry like a seasoned mother. The prenatal testing allowed me to worry sufficiently, and in the end I was blessed with a beautiful daughter. Four years later I was doubly blessed with twin boys.

Successfully I worried about my children's school crises and victories, their sports experiences, their musical triumphs and their theater auditions. However, all those concerns seemed less significant as they grew older. Eventually I came to realize that their lives as adults would bring far more challenging worries.

To paraphrase Katharine's (Tyne Daly) sentiments, my sons were straight before they went to college and returned after their freshman year gay. The first called me from college. For a time we were saddened by the thought of the angst he'd gone through while concealing this information, and the difficulties he might face in the world after acknowledging his homosexuality. Four months later the second son walked into our bedroom and came out to us. As he left the room he tweeted, "interrupted Bill Maher to tell my parents I was gay and they were totally cool with it. #mostliberalparents."

My life has been steeped in the arts, my world filled with gay friends. Upon hearing our news, these gay friends would assure me that if I could choose a time for my children to be gay, it would be now. When asked how I was handling their gay identity, I would simply reply that I wanted them to have what I have. I did not want their lives to be difficult. My husband and I would keep our worries to ourselves, except to make sure that they were safe, but I wanted assurance that they could find someone to share their lives with.

It hasn't been easy to repress the memories of New York City during the '80s: the news reports that people were wearing gloves in the subway to avoid the HIV virus; the funeral for a 30-year-old cousin who died from AIDS, though no one acknowledged it. We had friends and family in the gay community who were not being treated and were dying. I am passionate about making my sons aware of the battles that have been fought to make their lives easier. However, the most disturbing fear that I've had about my sons' lives is that they might not enjoy the freedom to have the loving marriage that I have.

As I sat in the theater, I was deeply moved. The themes, relationships, and struggles resonated with me, and like a warm embrace, Mothers and Sons calmed me, educated me, and showed me that my sons can have every bit as beautiful a family as I have. They can experience the worries about school, the concerns about failures, and the joy of raising their own children. If they so choose, they can have it all.

Few plays on Broadway today speak as urgently to our times as Mothers and Sons, the 20th Broadway production from legendary four-time Tony Award-winning playwright Terrence McNally, now playing at the Golden Theatre and nominated for the 2014 Tony Award for Best Play. In the play Katherine, portrayed by Tony- and Emmy-winning Tyne Daly in perhaps her most formidable role, visits the former lover of her late son 20 years after his death, only to find him now married to another man and raising a small child. A funny, vibrant, and deeply moving look at one woman's journey to acknowledge how society has evolved -- and how she might -- Mothers and Sons is certain to spark candid conversations about regret, acceptance, and the evolving definition of "family." Daly is joined by Broadway vet Frederick Weller (Take Me Out), Tony nominee Bobby Steggert (Ragtime), and newcomer Grayson Taylor, under the direction of Tony nominee Sheryl Kaller (Next Fall). For more information visit mothersandsonsbroadway.com.

Takashi Murakami Brings the Bizarre Back to DTLA

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The concrete veil on the Broad Museum downtown isn't even half in place, but you can already feel its gravitational pull on downtown's cultural scene. Or it's probably just that the The Theater At the Ace Hotel's a tipping point: The chic venue already hosted Benjamin Millepied's dance company, a live read of Tarantino's leaked script The Hateful Eight, and now it, along with the Broad, is bringing Takashi Murakami back to Los Angeles on May 30th to screen and talk about his feature film debut Jellyfish Eyes.

If you don't know Takashi Murakami, just imagine the bastard love child of Andy Warhol and Astroboy who fully (and ironically?) embraces 21st century capitalism. The Geffen Contemporary at MOCA hosted a huge show of his a couple years back that gave a grand sweeping viewing of the hyper surrealist, pop-manga-filtered art that's made him a darling of the international art scene. He'd even forayed into short films and music videos for Kanye's Graduation -- all featuring his whimsically deranged style that feels like he leased a studio just a few feet too close to a leaking nuclear power plant. Of course, hailing from Japan the metaphorical and literal fallout of the nuclear age plays prominently into his art -- Jellyfish is described as "genre-defying adventure set in a post-Fukushima world." (A young boy moves to a new town and discovers a floating jellyfish on the way home from school because, you know, Japan.) And judging from the trailer the pure bizarreness of vision is something to behold: giant multi-rainbow-eyed worms, floating fungi, and anime princesses fighting what appear to be demented, sinister Pokemon. Basically, vintage Murakami.

The point is a screening of the debut feature of a world-renowned Japanese artist (and a discussion with him at the Orpheum) is the kind of cool, random event that tends to happen more and more downtown these days. Not that downtown's exponentially growing vibrancy is news; and LACMA will always hold an artistic primacy. But whether it's Ciclavia, the LA Film Fest, Last Remaining Seats, the DTLA social calendar rarely has any holes these days. However mind-boggling Murakami's feature turns out to be, it's nice to know it's one of the smorgasbord of bizarre flavors on offer downtown as we head into a long summer of cultural snacking. I mean, what's it going to be like when the Broad is actually open?

General admission tickets for Jellyfish at the Theater at Ace Hotel are available at http://takashimurakami.frontgatetickets.com. Murakami's discussion with Pico Iyer hosted by The Broad Museum will take place the night before at the Orpheum. Tickets are available at www.thebroad.org/programs.

Nomads, Wanderers and Travelers: Maeghan Reid's Painted Collages

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When she was 8-years-old, Maeghan Reid's mom moved the family from their Northern California home to live in Bali for three months. Those three months in Bali would affect the artist in ways that no one could quite foresee. In Bali, the young Reid got close to a family and witnessed a cremation, which remains one of the most amazing things she has ever seen in her life. "The color from the fire, the body with the toenails coming off, how frightening but ultimately beautiful it all was to me! The color of the fire from that trip became seared in my memory and I use that fire a lot in my work."

Indeed, Reid's work is preoccupied with rituals of life and death. The artist believes that the actions the living enact on behalf of the dead are ultimately about the living and not about the dead. "Rituals of death," the artist insists, "are some of the best ways of finding about the culture of a place. Here is where you really interface with how people feel deep down about themselves, their lives, and how they see the world. Rituals of death," she says, "aren't so much about death as they are about life." Consequently, grave markers and totems feature prominently in her work. Circles as representatives of the circle of life are also given a place of prominence in her works. There is an overarching transience and ephemerality in them.

But how, exactly, to classify her works?

She admits that the terms "collage" and "sculpture" are often invoked when describing what she does, but for her the works are primarily paintings. She does a lot of her work on a self-made paper that looks more like bent metal, as well as on panels and matt boards. Mirrors are also an important part of her work, because they have the effect of incorporating the viewers.

When I caught up with her in her lovely large Harlem studio the artist was busy preparing for two upcoming shows: A show for Art Basel (Hong Kong) and a two-person show at the Weingruelle Gallery in Germany. She was particularly excited about going back to Berlin, where she lived for several years and still considers a "home" to her, despite the fact that she lives in New York City now. "In Berlin, I found my voice," the artist says, "and in Berlin I found a place very supportive of artists. They have these huge vacant spaces -- very cheap -- in Berlin, and there is massive funding for the arts." But despite the "young dirty artists" she found and liked in Berlin, she missed the kinetic energy of New York City. She missed, too, her family, and so she came back to New York for those two reasons.

And, in a sense, she took her own family back to New York with her in the form of the same characters that reappear in her works. The thing that struck me about her characters is not only how frequently they migrate from one painting or sculpture to another, but also how they migrate from one country to another, moving around with the artist wherever she goes.

Migration and memory are huge themes in Reid's life and work. Travel, too, is another theme in her work. Explains the artist, "I have to be able to pick up and carry my work wherever I go. All my sculptures and other works I can break down and carry around with me. I have a love of travel, of wandering; it seems that I am always restless. A storage unit and two boxes are what I have, and home is what I travel with and take with me. Memories are home for me."

Maybe this is so because she grew up with stories of travel. There are distant tales of a family from Romania, who fled the invasion of the Turks and spent their lives as nomads and wanderers. She is also a direct descendant of the environmentalist John Muir, and his sense of wandering informs many of her pieces. "If you look at my work," she says, "it is preoccupied not only with traveling, wandering, wanderers and nomads, but my work, too, is preoccupied with people being forced off their lands either by politics or natural disasters. I am inordinately fascinated with maps, because maps mark boundaries. In my work everyone is anonymous and everyone is on the go."

What I find so moving about Maeghan Reid's work is her insistence that the displaced and the anonymous nonetheless live meaningful and important lives and their unease and displacement -- or wandering -- can tell us all about how we live and make sense of our individual and collective lives. Their displacement -- these nomads, wanderers and travelers, whom Reid seeks to give voice to -- asks us not only to stop and think about our individual lives, and how we live in and move about the world, but it also asks us to consider forced displacements and migrations and people who are all looking for a place -- actual or otherwise -- to call "home."

Until next time.

Improv(ing) on the Autism Spectrum

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It's no secret that I feel that improv makes for better teachers, better museum professionals and all-around better people. But in the past few months I've been thinking about the connection between the benefits of improv to students on the autism spectrum, specifically when it comes to social and language development. And in the past few weeks I've had the pleasure of piloting the program with the help of two amazing colleagues, Michelle Lopez and Jennifer Kristen, supportive parents and Queens Museum.

Over the course of two weeks, six students on the spectrum and their families took a one-hour improv class centered on the Neustadt Collection. At the end of the two weeks, we all agreed that the class was too short, but the results were incredible. While there were many individual successes within the program, the areas of empathy, eye contact and imaginative play saw notable improvements through the whole group.

Empathy

Improv is based on trust. One of the first things I do in every class is pair people up and have them take part in a "blind" walk. One person closes their eyes, and the other keeps them open. The pair connects fingertips, and the "sighted" person leads the "blind" person around, nonverbally, just by the touch of their fingertips.

The students fell in love with this activity from week one, and by week two we were amazed. They were easily interacting with each other, comfortable touching fingertips and being touched by the fingertips -- but most importantly, they were looking out for one another. The idea of the activity is to make sure that no one falls, trips or bumps into another person -- and no one did. Students on the spectrum often have trouble with empathy, but during this activity, they were carefully guiding their parents (week one) and then their peers (week two) around the gallery space.

Eye Contact

At the end of week one, we closed the session with a group activity called "Pass the Clap." I first saw this working with the team-building company run by the theater where I perform improv and thought it would be perfect for certain improv classes, especially this pilot program.

The premise is simple. One person turns to the person next to them and makes eye contact, and they both attempt to clap at the same time while maintaining eye contact. The second person then turns to the person on the other side and repeats the process, passing the clap around a circle. For people on the spectrum, eye contact is often difficult. While some students had to be reminded to "see what color eyes" the person next to them had, this activity was immensely successful. To watch students who generally struggle with eye contact look, connect, clap and continue the activity for a sustained period of time was incredible.

Imaginative Play

Many students with autism have difficulties with imaginative play, and improv is all about imagination. From embodying emotions like "happy," "sad" and "inspired" to posing like the people from the photos on the gallery walls to developing stories about the plants and flowers they saw on the Tiffany lamps and acting them out, the students explored the collection with their imaginations.

One specific example: My student partner told me that I was a tulip and acted out (in front of the whole group, without rehearsing!) a very elaborate story about the wind, a bee taking pollen, and then snowflakes falling on the tulip, all inspired by looking at a decorative lamp in a museum.

What Now?

While the successes of the pilot went beyond these three areas, we all understand that if you know one person with autism, you know one person with autism. We can't attribute these results, especially with this short study, to anyone aside from the six students and families that took part in the program.

But if this and more happened in two weeks -- two one-hour sessions -- what would happen in six? Or in 12? Would the empathy move beyond the class and contribute to a better understanding of emotions? Could the eye contact in "Pass the Clap" transfer to everyday life? We aren't sure, but judging by the parents' responses and our enthusiasm for the project, we sure are going to try to find out.

Special thanks to Queens Museum, specifically the Neustadt Collection and the museum education department. Also, many thanks to Miranda Appelbaum and Hannah Heller from Lincoln Center for their feedback on the program.

Frieze New York 2014

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View of Manhattan from the fair at Randalls Island. Courtesy of Frieze New York.

This week marks the third year of Frieze New York, the London fair that went head-to-head with the tradition of the Armory Show and took NADA and Pulse with it, subsequently asserting itself as a "fair" contender. This year's fair once again transforms Randall's Island into an enchanted island of art, featuring 190 of the art world's top exhibitors, seven specially commissioned projects inspired by the history of Randall's Island for Frieze Projects, a hotel within the fair that guests can stay at, a new sound program, a program for kids and teens, and a slew of scheduled talks including one with Pussy Riot's Nadya Tokokonnikova and Masha Alekhina. As if the fair wasn't enough to keep you busy, there are also a bevy of other exciting art goings-on this week, including satellite fairs, the opening of Damien Hirst's new retail store and Kara Walker's take over at the epic Domino Sugar Factory. We've put together a suggested schedule to keep your week as exciting as the city of New York itself.

Wednesday Night - May 7


Coastings: Street Vernaculars in New York City and San Francisco Panel

Fales Library, Bobst Library, 70 Washington Square South, Third Floor

6:30 p.m.

Kick off the week of art overindulgence by first heading to NYU's Grey Art Gallery for an incredible panel discussion moderated by Carlo McCormick, Senior Editor, Paper magazine, with speakers Natasha Boas; Martha Cooper, photographer; Sean Corcoran, Curator of Prints and Photographs, Museum of the City of New York; Jeffrey Deitch, Deitch Projects; and Carlos Mare, sculptor. The panel is free and open to the public.

Swoon: Braddock Tiles Benefit

Kinfolk Studios, 90 Wythe Avenue, Brooklyn

7p.m.-10p.m.



Swoon, Nee Nee in Braddock, 2014. Courtesy of Braddock Tiles.

After the lecture head to Williamsburg and help artist Swoon raise money for Braddock Tiles, while also toasting her recent opening at the Brooklyn Museum. In conjunction with Select Art Fair, expect a night of drinks and socializing, and an opportunity to score Swoon's new limited edition print "NeeNee in Braddock," as well as newly released prints by other artists. Proceeds from the print sales benefit Braddock Tiles.

Thursday - May 8

Other Criteria Flagship store

458 Broome Street

Opening hours: Monday-Saturday 11a.m.-7p.m., Sunday 12-6p.m.



Merchandise by Damien Hirst. Courtesy of Other Criteria.

Grab a coffee and head to the first US Flagship of Damien Hirst's new store, Other Criteria. The sprawling 3000 square foot Soho space will carry all the goodies that Hirst's arts-based publishing company makes, like artist designed rugs, wallpaper, vases, prints and books.



Inside Freemans. Courtesy of the restaurant.

Head east and beat the lunch crowd at Freemans and dine amongst the famous taxidermy animals. Pop into Salon 94 to see the new Liu Chuang Show while you wait for a table.



Liu Chuang, Love Story, 2014. Courtesy of Salon 94.

Cutlog Art Fair

107 Suffolk Street

May 8-11



Daniel Horowitz, Lost Identity Series, 2014. Courtesy of Cutlog.

Appearing for its second year in New York, hop over to French art fair, Cutlog, at the beautiful (and newly renovated) Clemente building on the Lower East Side. At just 50 exhibitors, the fair is a manageable size, with both emerging and establish artists from around the world.

SELECT Art Fair

135 W 18th Street

May 8-11



Meow Wolf, Beer Garden, 2014. Courtesy of SELECT Art Fair.

Take an afternoon nap then head up to Select Art Fair for their VIP Preview from 7-10pm. This year's fair has an installation by Meow Wolf that doubles as the fair's beer garden, serving Six Point Beer and Brooklyn Rangers sausages, installations by SELECT resident Brett Day Windham, and a roster of galleries heavy on the urban art influence.

Finish up the night with a rooftop drink at Le Bain at The Standard, High Line Hotel, and be sure to catch Marco Brambilla's video installation, Civilization, on your way up in the elevator.



Le Bain. Courtesy of The Standard, High Line Hotel.

Friday - May 9

Dedicate the day to the big fair. You've got a lot of ground to cover, so rest up and wear comfortable shoes.

Frieze New York

Randalls Island Park

May 9-12



Marie Lorenz, Tide and Current Taxi (East River with Frederick Hayes), 2011. Courtesy of the artist.

Take the ferry from the 35th Street Ferry Dock to get the full Frieze effect, and while on board enjoy the spectacular views,  or if you have VIP status take one of the VIP cars to experience the Frieze Sounds program, this year with pieces by Keren Cytter, Cally Spooner and Hannah Weinberger.

Once at the fair, explore the grounds to check out Frieze Projects, which are inspired by playgrounds, sports and the history of Randall's Island. Darren Bader's fantastical playground of impossible artworks invite visitors to look but not to play. Eduardo Basualdo's large scale sculptural installation superimposes an impossible sports field with glass-blocked goals. And Eva Kotátková's playground invites visitors to physically get inside her pieces. Go even further and explore the island with Marie Lorenz, as she brings her Tide and Current Taxi project to the fair, offering an alternative ferry service around the island on a boat made from salvaged materials.



Nadya Tolokonnikova and Masha Alekhina of Pussy Riot Courtesy of Frieze New York.

At 4p.m. head to the auditorium for a talk with Pussy Riot's Nadya Tolokonnikova and Masha Alekhina, who will speak with The New Yorker's David Remnick about their membership in the feminist art collective as well as the recently launched Zona Prava, their NGO advocating for prison reform. Tickets are free with admission and can be booked from 11a.m. just outside the auditorium.

 

Barry McGee, Untitled, 2012-2013. Courtesy of Cheim & Read.

Jenny Holzer, Selection from Survival: The Future is Stupid, 2006. Courtesy of Cheim & Read.

The fair is open until 7p.m. today, so spend the rest of the time checking out the cutting edge exhibitors. Make sure to stop by Cheim & Read's booth for works by Barry McGee, Jenny Holzer, Lynda Benglis and William Eggleston. Spruth Mager's booth will boast John Baldessari, Barbara Kruger, Andreas Gursky and George Condo's Great seated female composition. Then pop by Lisson Gallery's booth for works by Cory Arcangel, Anish Kapoor and Dan Graham.

The adventurous can book a night at the fair itself at the recreated Al's Grand Hotel, a collaboration between Allen Ruppersberg and Pulp Fiction, a project space and a journal in Northeast Los Angeles founded by Lauren Mackler and featuring a rotating cast of collaborators. The hotel/installation was originally open on Sunset Boulevard in 1971. Two rooms have been revived and are available for overnight stays during the fair.

 

Cory Arcangel, Gummies/Lakes, 2013. Courtesy of Lisson Gallery.

Allen Ruppersberg and Pulp Fiction, Al's Grand Hotel, 2014. Courtesy of Frieze New York.

Saturday - May 10



The rooftop at The Park. Courtesy of The Park Restaurant.

Sleep in, then head to Chelsea for brunch where you can pop in to Cook Shop or Park. Get some free chocolate at David Zwirner Gallery (519 W 19th Street) for Oscar Murillo's solo show, "A Mercantile Novel," which recreates a candy-making factory inside the gallery. Take a walk along the High Line up to check out Ed Ruscha's Honey, I Twisted Through More Damn Traffic Today, which is adjacent to West 22nd Street. Walk up to 33rd Street and head east to the Collective Design Fair.



Oscar Murillo's mother, Virgelina Murillo (center), working at Colombina in La Paila, Colombia, 1988. Collection of the artist, courtesy of David Zwirner Gallery.

Collective Design Fair

Skylight at Moynihan Station

360 West 33rd Street



Collective Design Fair. Courtesy of the fair.

Get inspired at the old post office for the second Collective Design Fair, which showcases the best in contemporary and 20th century design from emerging and established galleries. Check out one of their panel discussions, as well as a solo exhibition by Gaetano Pesce, a new neon commission by Sebastian Errazuriz, and Dana Barnes' tactile textile hanging chairs in the lounge area.

Grab a slice and head down to The Metropolitan Pavilion for PULSE.

PULSE Contemporary Art Fair

125 West 18th Street

May 8-11

Another fair to switch from Armory Arts week to May to align itself with Frieze, PULSE has been known for showcasing cutting edge work in both New York and Miami. With new director Helen Toomer, the fair has undergone a makeover for 2014, trimming its exhibitor list, adding rules for the PULSE prize, and featuring a section curated by Toomer. Visitors this year can run their hands through the chest hair of artist Sean Fade, while whispering a wish in his ear for #wishingpelt, or become part of Shantell Martin's YOU ARE YOU in an immersive space for PULSE Projects.



Leslie Thornton, Binocular Menagerie, 2014. Courtesy of Times Square Arts.

Take a disco nap after the fair then go to Times Square at 11:57 to celebrate the 2 year anniversary of Times Square Arts' Midnight Moment. For three minutes, some of the advertising screens will be taken over by Leslie Thornton's Binocular Menagerie.

Sunday - May 11th

Take it easy today. Start out by heading to Basketball City for NADA.

NADA Art Fair

299 South Street, Pier 36

May 9-11



Phaidon presents Beta-Local and MOCAD. Courtesy of NADA Art Fair.

The New Art Dealer's Association fair varies from others because it is run as a non-profit and is free to the public. You can grab a shuttle from the New Museum or the Guggenheim, or enjoy the walk to the water if the weather allows it. Today at 2pm, catch the ICI's panel discussion, "El Local Club," a conversation about the influences of Caribbean in artistic practice and production. Project space, Shoot The Lobster, has curated a site-specific group exhibition that will be on view inside of a 1964 black Ford Galaxie 500, parked next to the fair. Galleries known for pushing the limits like The Hole, Invisible Exports, Halsey McKay and Nicelle Beauchene Gallery round out the roster.

Walk over to Pier 11 and take the East River Ferry to Schaefer Landing/S. Williamsburg to check out the Kara Walker installation at the Domino Sugar Factory.

Kara Walker, "A Subtlety or the Marvelous Sugar Baby" presented by Creative Time 

The Domino Sugar Factory, South 1st Street at Kent Avenue, Williamsburg

May 10 - July 6



Inside the Domino Sugar Factory, 2014. Courtesy of Creative Time.

Creative Time has commissioned world renowned artist Kara Walker to take over the historic Williamsburg landmark, the now defunct Domino Sugar Factory. Set within the cavernous walls of the factory that still smell of sticky sweet burned sugar, the piece is an homage to the unpaid and overworked artisans who have refined our sweet tastes, from the cane fields to the kitchens of the new world. The Domino Sugar Factory itself is slated to be redeveloped into a mixed use space, so Walker's installation pays tribute to the site itself. The incredible space and installation is free to the public, and open from 4-8 on Fridays and 12-6 on Saturdays and Sundays.




The Wythe Hotel, 2013. Courtesy of the hotel.

End the hectic week that has enriched your cultural soul and treat yourself to one of the best views of Manhattan from the roof of the Wythe Hotel at The Ides Bar. Take it all in and relax with a drink.  You deserve it!

Unsung Warriors of Apartheid: The Human Spirit Opens in Los Angeles

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South Africans went to the polls on Wednesday to vote in a general election, and, while the ruling African National Congress is expected to prevail, widespread anger and dissatisfaction over corruption and joblessness has already seen the party lose some ground in early results. The party of Nelson Mandela began as a liberation movement, and the ANC can count on the unswerving loyalty of a generation who were there at the dismantling of apartheid in 1994. The allegiances of the younger "Born Frees," however, are up for grabs.

In an unprecedented move, the main opposition party, the Democratic Alliance -- which has long battled the perception that it is the party of white privilege -- fielded a black female anti-apartheid activist as its candidate for president.

It appears that South African women's voices are increasingly being heard -- many in outrage at the gunning down of Reeva Steenkamp by 'Blade Runner' Oscar Pistorius, and in solidarity with the despairing parents of the 300 girls abducted and enslaved by Boko Haram in Nigeria.

From June 7 through June 29, in a guest production at the Odyssey Theatre in Los Angeles, women's voices from South Africa's past will be heard in a new production of Carole Eglash-Kosoff's The Human Spirit. Originally a collection of true stories from the apartheid era, the play distills these moving, often shocking tales of ordinary women in a black township, who came to be known as the Mamas, and who banded together to ease the suffering of the "invisible" -- women, children, the elderly. The Human Spirit is a taut and suspenseful piece of theater that illuminates the varied experiences of the struggle against apartheid, stripping away the anonymity of the powerless majority. It reveals, with occasional wry humor, the divergent motivations of those who fought the system, and who cobbled together unlikely alliances.

In 2006, Eglash-Kosoff lost her husband, brother and mother in swift succession, and from the depths of grief, reached out to a Jewish service organization that had made an appeal on National Public Radio ("I asked them if they might be interested in an old broad who was a bad Jew.") She was sent off to teach in the townships of South Africa, where she met the women whose stories she was moved to document in her book, subtitled Apartheid's Unheralded Heroes.

Presented in workshop to considerable acclaim last year, under the direction of Donald Squires, Eglash-Kosoff's dramatization of her book employs twelve actor-storytellers who rotate through a multitude of roles, including the intransigent Prime Minister P.W. Botha. Squires notes that, while apartheid crumbled twenty years ago and many Americans barely fathom its significance, aspects of the protests and the individual struggles reflected in The Human Spirit resonate with 21st century audiences who are not just concerned about shifting political tides in South Africa, but also about the siloization of America, and about increasing racial and ethnic strife in pockets around the globe.

The World Premiere of THE HUMAN SPIRIT opens Saturday, June 7th with performances on Fridays and Saturdays at 8 pm, and Sundays at 3 pm through June 29, 2014. The Odyssey Theatre is located at 2055 S. Sepulveda Blvd, Los Angeles, CA 90025. Tickets available online, or call 323-960-4412.

How The Fabulous Palm Springs Follies High-Kicked My Sobriety

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I'm in mourning for the end of The Fabulous Palm Springs Follies. NPR's Morning Edition reported this week that the old-fashioned musical revue, whose poster boasts, "The world record for the oldest chorus line!" will close this month after a 23-year run. That's almost as many years as I drank. I saw the show eight years ago when I was in Palm Springs, CA on a 60-day "extended vacation," a.k.a. rehab. It occurs to me now that I was in mourning when I sat in the audience -- mourning for my life as a drinker.

I was 38 at the time, not the target age of the Las Vegas-style extravaganza made up of sexa-, septua- and octo- generian chorus boys and girls, but I've always been an old soul who preferred the entertainment and music of my parents' generation -- Broadway show tunes and American Popular Standards sung by Peggy Lee, Frank Sinatra and Doris Day. That showbiz glamour filtered through the lens of old Hollywood movies is what I tried to capture when I drank. The movies I preferred were the ones of Joan Crawford, Barbara Stanwyck and Bette Davis, but in late career. The aging broads and the women they played were more interesting than their younger selves because they came with years of baggage.

My drinking did have a glitzy opening. I was 14 and warm and fuzzy from the two champagne cocktails I'd had at the Russian Tea Room in New York when I saw Joey Heatherton open her fur coat and do a high kick on the street. That moment symbolized the kind of euphoria I chased when I drank. 23 years later, my drinking career ended with the loss of a job, and the near loss of my life. So when the gig was up and the footlights went dark, Palm Springs was the natural place for me to get sober.

Palm Springs is a strange cocktail of Hollywood legend, retirees, gays, gay retirees, booze and drugs, and a veritable shopping mall of rehabs with Betty Ford as the anchor store. I didn't rehabilitate at Betty Ford, but chose a small all-male facility. I thought if I'm going to rehab, I might as well get laid. I didn't, but when the rehab's short bus shuttled me to sober meetings driving along Ginger Rogers Road, Frank Sinatra Drive and Dinah Shore Parkway, I felt safe knowing that Dinah and Ginger were right under my ass. I needed to feel safe, because despite where booze had taken me, I still wanted to get back to the high kick it once was.

My rehab case manager who called me Miss Lawson -- as in the aging diva Helen Lawson from the Valley of the Dolls -- turned me on to The Fabulous Palm Springs Follies. When I passed the marquis and saw "Special Guest Star Gogi Grant," I was sold, since I grew up listening to my mother's old Gogi Grant records. I couldn't believe she was alive, much less still performing.

"I know what we're doing when you come for your family visit," I told my partner Michael back where we lived in New York. "We're seeing The Fabulous Palm Springs Follies and Gogi Grant is the guest star!"

"Sounds wonderful," he replied with true enthusiasm. Then a beat: "Remind me. Who is Gogi Grant?" I educated him. She was once the most important voice dubber in Hollywood and a successful singer under her own name. Her last major hit was "The Wayward Wind" -- in 1956.

When Michael and I stepped into the theatre filled with an audience dependent on canes, walkers, scooters and wheelchairs, we must have lowered the median age to 71. Even though I wasn't yet forty, with over two decades of drinking under my dance belt, I carried enough baggage to age Peter Pan. Sitting in the dark, sober as a Dancing with the Stars judge (maybe that's the wrong analogy) and watching an 82-year-old Gogi Grant sing "The Wayward Wind" followed by all those aged show girls and boys in feathers and sequins and sky-high headdresses having the time of their lives and literally still kicking, I was in heaven. I hadn't had the time of my life not drunk since... well almost since Gogi's last hit song.

It was the first time that I didn't think about having -- or not having -- a drink. I lost myself in the joy of that matinee performance and the exuberance of the performers who were happy to be alive despite -- or because of -- the years of baggage behind them. During those two and half hours I shed all the fear and anxiety that getting sober had wrought. The show did what booze used to do for me and no longer could: It made me euphoric. Even if The Fabulous Palm Springs Follies can't go on kicking, I will forever view that chorus line of still-sexy legs high kicking above the footlights as a farewell to booze and a salute to my sobriety.

Jamie Brickhouse is the author of Dangerous When Wet, a darkly comic memoir about booze, sex and his mother Mama Jean to be published by St. Martin's Press in spring 2015.

Nerdrum Pictures Chronicles the New Golden Age of Painting

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This past week Nerdrum Pictures released a series of videos that aim to change the course of the cultural ocean liner. The internet has allowed those painters who strive toward masterpieces in a grand and classical sense, it has afforded talented and isolated individuals to contact each other, gather and combine forces. The internet has helped in the rebirth of a classical sensibility within our culture and video is playing a key role. These videos allow you to participate in changing the direction of our ship.


Introduction to TRAC2014 (The Representational Art Conference), courtesy of Nerdrum Pictures

Now that we are truly free to choose our own programing, we have an obligation to ourselves to do just that. Of course there will be those who want nothing to do with beautiful art, the sensual flesh, the longing gaze of a human being filled with dignity, faced with their own mortality. For the rest of us, For those of us who want to understand why the work we like most is not in the museums, who wish to really understand this invention we call Art, then you will want to take the time to watch the presentations, and digest what is being earnestly put forth. Listen to the stories being told.

The beauty of video is that it gives us a longer look than when we heard the actual speaker's presentation live. To be able to go back, listen carefully, and pause when we need to write down a thought or dwell a little longer on an idea, is of great benefit, if we choose to use it. Even having been at TRAC2014 myself, I find that the way these films were put together to focus in on, and enhance the important messages that are delivered here, help add to my understanding of why this is so important.


Contemporary Representational Aesthetics Panelists: Roger Scruton & Odd Nerdrum with Moderator Michael Pearce at TRAC2014. Courtesy of Nerdrum Pictures.

Nerdrum Pictures has been documenting the ideas of Norwegian figurative painter Odd Nerdrum through a series of short films as well as documenting travels and rare appearances of this reclusive, yet influential thinker. In addition to his many hundred of masterfully executed paintings, Nerdrum has written several insightful books and a series of plays to help illustrate his ideas. His idea is that Art, or Fine Art, as we know it, is fundamentally, philosophically, different than the kind of painting that comes from his brush and the brushes of the Nerdrum School.

Different than what most representational painters are doing at all for that matter, artists who do not go back far enough to understand what is really meant by Fine Art. Artists who do not read philosophy. In opposition to Art ideologies, he refers to the contemporary paintings that are done in a timeless fashion, without irony, and done with a highly developed level of skill to be Kitsch. Kitsch in the best sense of that word, in a positive sense, so don't get stuck on the negative aspects of it, we are talking about something different now. It is not what Roger Scruton talked about, how he spoke of kitsch in his keynote address, Faking It.


Keynote speaker Roger Scruton, introduction by Michael Pearce, courtesy of California Lutheran University and Nerdrum Pictures.

Trying to pin a name on this movement, this drift toward classically constructed painting is like talking about God. While there are many names, we are talking about the same thing ultimately. In this case, about the paintings that we love immediately, emotionally, and honestly. They don't need to be explained to us. They appeal to our humanity.

This relatively new Kitsch idea, the re-appropriation of the word and its redefinition is well explained by Jan-Ove Tuv in his presentation, Kitsch as a Superstructure for Representational Narrative Painting, and in the panel discussion about 21st Century Aesthetics, which he participated in with Julio Reyes, Stephen Hicks, Alan Lawson, William Havlicek and which was moderated by Peter Trippi, editor of Fine Art Connoisseur.


The Aesthetics of 21st Century - Panel Discussion at TRAC2014, courtesy of Nerdrum Pictures

Tuv states that, "We are not talking about the dichotomy between Abstract and representational painting but rather that of the passionate and the disinterested perspective."


Kitsch as a Superstructure for Representational Narrative Painting by Jan-Ove Tuv, Nerdrum Pictures

Peter Trippi also gave an excellent presentation of his own which talks about the great work being made today and who is buying it. Most of you know that Peter Trippi is the editor of Fine Art Connoisseur and after talking with him, I certainly regard him as an expert in the field of representational painting, and in Art in general. Trippi does not feel that words like Beauty and Kitsch are enough, that we need to put our thinking caps on and take advantage of the situation, that we as painters need to pull together and show the work.


Peter Trippi, Editor of Fine Art Connoisseur Magazine, at TRAC2014, courtesy Nerdrum Pictures

The subject of the panel discussion between Nerdrum and philosopher Roger Scruton was not so much focused on semantics, but rather on ideas. Here, we are offered solutions to the cultural dilemma we face of bringing classical training back into the Art departments of our universities, both philosophically and pragmatically.
As I have said in a previous blog about TRAC2014, The Authentic Perspective, there is a need in our society and it is being filled. It is wise to pay attention. We have longed for something to happen that is interesting in painting, be sure not to miss it now that it is happening.


Odd Nerdrum and the New Baroque, by Brandon Kralik's presentation at TRAC2014

My presentation focused on Nerdrum's influence on American painting and my personal experiences of how I met and came to know Odd Nerdrum and his family. We are witness to a New Baroque in American painting, even on a larger scale than that, we are talking about painters and ideas that are are having a profound effect on the art that is being produced today. We are talking about a cultural revolution. Work that we can relate to. In fact, as TRAC co-founder Michael Pearce says, "These people are changing the direction of our cultural ocean liner, slowly but surely!" No small achievement.

For those of you who are interested in this absolutely fascinating subject, there are a couple more videos from TRAC2014 put out by California Lutheran University who sponsors the annual event.

An incredible amount of progress is being made. Keynote speaker Juliette Aristides is at the forefront of the Atelier Movement, runs the Aristides Atelier at the Gage Academy of Fine Art in Seattle, and is focused on educating not only students, but the educators, who are being faced with having to teach techniques that they have not learned to a growing number of artists interested in classical approaches to painting.

Kara Ross, of the Art Renewal Center, a wealth of information, in her panel presentation, resounded a positive note with regards to where we are and where we are going. There are now over 70 approved schools teaching classical technique in their list, as opposed to 14 when they started. She asserted the importance of working together as a unified force, to support the painters, for the artists to support each other, so that we may come to a more graceful way of interacting with each other and the world we live in.

The internet has allowed us to do just that and it also allows you to be a part of it, either directly or vicariously. Take the time to watch the videos, spend time with them, and listen to what these philosophers, artists, educators and writers have to say about the possibility of better times.

All 7 of the videos can be seen on Odd Nerdrum's Youtube channel and will help clue you in on the new golden age of painting.

The change is now.

Art and Culture Thought Leaders Converge in Dallas

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Next month, Dallas, Texas hosts The New Cities Foundation Summit (June 17-19), and launches the Foundation's Global Cultural Districts Network (GCDN). In the same week, Dallas plays host to the Annual Meeting of the US Conference of Mayors (June 20-23).

Dallas boasts the largest Art and Culture District in the nation. But more, it has become the epicenter of rethinking the vital role of arts in fostering economic development. As such, it has become the center of thought leadership about the future of the City and about the growing recognition that art and culture play a vital role in "reimagining cities", the theme of the Dallas conference.

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Art and Culture Districts - with museums, opera houses, performance spaces, restaurants, coffee shops, offices and housing - all nurture, attract and retain the "creative class," as author Richard Florida describes them. Such districts are vital to the new workplace ... a workplace in which creativity and innovation are the benchmarks of the most successful regions.

It all began in the 70's as Dallas leaders began musing about the advantage of an art and culture district "within a tight geographical area in order to reap maximum economic, educational and cultural benefits for each art entity and for the city of Dallas."

The Dallas Arts District spans 68 acres with no less than three museums, and the AT&T Performing Arts Center comprising the Winspear Opera House, the Wyly Theater, Perot Museum of Nature, Strauss Square, and Sammons Park which itself covers 10 acres. They additionally, showcase world-class buildings designed by Pritzker Prize winners I.M. Pei, Renzo Piano, Norman Foster, Rem Koolhaas and AIA "Gold Medal" recipient Edward Larrabee Barnes, display public art throughout the district, and have any number of restaurants, hotels, coffee shops, offices and residential housing within the District.

The Arts District also operates a Foundation which is a "catalyst for cultural activity within the Distinct ... (which) supports a broad range of cultural programs including outdoor performances and events and new works that demonstrate creativity and innovation."

Maxwell L. Anderson is Chair of the Dallas Arts District and The Eugene McDermott Director of the Dallas Museum of Art where he recently launched a "free general admission and a no-cost friends membership" program, to encourage broader involvement and interest among people who might not otherwise go to museums at all.

While only assuming his position a little over two years ago, Anderson has created an Institute for Islamic Culture, signed a memorandum of understanding with the Republic of Turkey--and preparing MOUs with other nations -- as part of an art-for-expertise exchange program. He has also founded a Laboratory for Museum Innovation to develop collaborative pilot projects in the areas of "collections access, visitor engagement, and digital publishing."

Clearly, Anderson and the Dallas Mayor Mike Rawlings, honorary President of the GCDN, are major forces behind GCDN, but Anderson modestly says Adrian Ellis of AEA Consulting and John Rossant, Founder and President of the New Cities Foundation, are playing leadership roles breathing life into the idea that the future of cities will depend on nurturing successful art and culture districts.

In large part, all those involved in the New Cities Foundation believe that reinventing cities for the "new economy" depends upon successful art and culture districts. In fact, as Maxwell has said, "The Reimaging of Cities (as the Dallas event is called) demands insight into the distinctive character of a place through its cultural heritage, creative industries and built environment."

Not surprisingly, the Dallas Museum of Art, and many other museums with the Arts Distinct are supportive of one of the most progressive art integration education programs in the nation.

Called "Thriving Minds," Dallas has an "initiative that brings together organizations that believe in the power of imagination, creativity and innovation to change the way children learn"... "that promote creative thinking, project-based learning and experimentation, students become adaptable problem-solvers who are better able think critically, express themselves and collaborate with others." Thriving Minds serves more than 115,000 students and families.

An organization called, "Big Thought" serves as managing partner of Thriving Minds. According to Big Thoughts, "the partnership includes the City of Dallas, the Dallas Independent School District (Dallas ISD) and more than 100 arts, cultural and community organizations committed to making creative learning a part of the education of every Dallas student--in and out of school. To accomplish this goal, Thriving Minds supports:

• Fine arts instruction in schools;

• Curriculum development that integrates the arts into traditional classroom subjects;

• Professional development for educators, teaching artists and cultural providers; and

• Free after-school and summer programs in neighborhoods throughout the city.


Given the realignment of power in the world - from nations to cities - what the city does or does not do, as Dallas is proving, can determine a community's success and survival, or its demise.

The city is and has been the crucible of civilization; the center of commerce, and in this new age, can and must be the incubator of creativity; the place where people and cultures and ideas wash against one another, producing the inventions and innovations the world needs and wants, and the finance and marketing plans to support them.

The city, of all our geopolitical institutions, needs to reinvent itself for this new global age. The New Cities Foundation will certainly help. The meeting in Dallas is an auspicious start.

First Nighter: Samuel D. Hunter's "The Few" is for the Many

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In Samuel D. Hunter's outstanding play, The Whale, presented at Playwrights Horizons in the 2012-13 season, obese and suicidal Charlie ignores the pleas of those around him to improve his life, insisting that since the AIDS-related death of his male lover he has no reason to go on.

At the beginning of Hunter's almost equally outstanding new play, The Few, at Rattlestick Playwrights Theater after premiering at San Diego's Old Globe, Bryan (Michael Laurence), a somewhat unhealthily thin man, has returned to the shabby office of a truckers newspaper he helped found. After a long absence he's decided he hasn't much incentive to keep going and chooses to crash where they have to take him in.

With the two plays as evidence, it doesn't take much to twig that Hunter is caught up in the despairing notion that too often life offers few rewards. It's the lucky ones who find carrying on under the weight of a sorrowful existence worth the effort.

For further substantiation of Hunter's dire play-long message, a patron at The Few need only look at the photograph on the program cover. The black-white-&-grey image there shows a stretch of road on flat terrain. Aside from a post or two and the hint of a few trees in the distance, nothing else is on it--no cars, no people, no nothing. It might as well be a metaphor of the desolate soul.

Hunter, whose surname may be more relevant to his works than initially noticed, took the photograph. And since he did, it may be safe to assume the curving road to nowhere is a patch of land in western Montana, possibly near Missoula, and leading to and from Idaho.

That would make sense, since Hunter is from northern Idaho. Very possibly, a sense of unpromising isolation detectable in both his recently produced plays is endemic to the population 'round those parts. (Maybe check the fiction of Thomas McGuane and Annie Proulx for corroboration.)

The reason for mentioning Missoula is that the city is named when QZ (Tasha Lawrence), the onetime girlfriend to whom Bryan returns, brings it up late in the play. That's after the two of them tangle at length about the direction in which the paper, called The Few (hence the play's title), is going and/or should be going.

This is long after the opening scene where--when designer Eric Southern's lights go up on designer Dane Laffrey's appropriately run-down room--QZ seated at a cluttered desk glares for quite awhile at the crestfallen Bryan sitting across from her on a tired couch. When they finally speak, they rehash Bryan's abrupt departure four years back and QZ's needing to find a way to keep The Few afloat. She's done so, and profits are accruing.

Her success has happened because she's dropped almost all the editorial content in favor of personal ads placed by truckers. (Their various requests are made at regular intervals over an active answering machine.) QZ has also benefitted from the assistance of agitated 19-year-old Matthew (Gideon Glick), the otherwise homeless nephew of deceased Jim with whom Bryan and QZ started The Few.

The suspense Hunter brews concerns whether Bryan will explain why he took his extended powder and whether the explanation will get him back on skeptical QZ's good side. Not only that, but will Bryan, still drinking heavily to keep his demons at bay, convince QZ that the romantic sparks between them since high school can flare a-new? One hitch QZ makes explicit is that she's had a marriage proposal from a correspondent named Rick, whom she has yet to meet face-to-face.

While those two try unsuccessfully to sort out complications, Bryan has troubles with Matthew, who announces he's a fan of the columns Bryan wrote in the first few years the paper was publishing. They were essays that had a way of bringing lonely truckers together--often to actual meetings in the cramped office. Matthew clearly idolizes Bryan, which is more of an irritant for the object of that affection who's trying to deal with a low-self-worth psychological crisis.

The Few occupants' three-way tussle covers ground and time and runs to QZ's taking off in a grand gesture, to Matthew's maturing from a kid only hoping he can prove himself long enough to remain at The Few into a young man courageous enough to go after what he wants and to Bryan's deciding whether to stay the course, and even master it.

As the triangular bout extends, Hunter demonstrates great skill at the hard-bitten language resorted to by people barely clinging to the end of their tether. Its uncompromising language is guaranteed to have listeners hanging on every word. Two-thirds of the way through when Matthew badgers Bryan to speak about his frustrations on the road, the worn-out thin man says:

"After a while you start to feel like you don't exist. Like you're never in a place long enough to exist. You stop talking to people at gas stations and truck stops. You start avoiding restaurants where the waitresses might recognize you, you start sleeping in the back of your cab just so you don't have to talk to a hotel clerk. You go to diners and truck stops full of other long-haul guys, and you don't even look at each other."

Having listened to a speech like that (and it doesn't stop there), a spectator can forget about Bryan's despair and start concentrating on the internal despair beginning to take root, courtesy of the playwright's expertise.

That's the grip Hunter gets on his audience. It's a hold strengthened by director Davis McCallum, who also directed The Whale, in which Lawrence appeared. So what seems to be shaping up is a Hunter team to which Laurence and Glick can now be added. The three actors play together like troupers, each--with McCallum assiduously guiding them--conveying the heartbreak he or she is precariously verging on.

(By the way, the actors heard ordering the personal ads aren't in the cast list but are credited elsewhere in the program.)

Towards the end of the play--whether it's a happy conclusion for any of the three characters won't be revealed here--QZ looks piercingly at Bryan and asks, "How did we turn out to be such awful people?" Neither she nor Bryan nor Hunter supplies an answer, but it's likely more than a few patrons will leave with that question nagging at them--not only about the three lost figures they've just watched but secretly about themselves as well.

That's the sign of genuinely good theater.

Follow the Beat Poets in San Francisco

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Photo: Sonya Yu


Tosca Cafe in San Francisco has just launched Red Sauce Sundays. Chefs April Bloomfield and Josh Even will offer a family-style menu of classic red sauce Italian-American dishes each week. While the legendary cafe has been around since 1919, it is new to the food scene after Bloomfield and Ken Friedman bought the former dive and spent $1.5 million to renovate it and turn it into one the hottest Italian restaurants in the city. More about that here on Find. Eat. Drink.

Chef Josh Even first visited Tosca in 2002, coming here to experience its history as a hang out for politicians, musicians, and beat poets.
Josh: There were all these stories about Sean Penn and Hunter S. Thompson and Bono standing on top of the bar singing along with the jukebox. Further back, all the beats came through here, like Kerouac, Neal Cassady, Gary Snyder and William S. Burroughs.


We track some of North Beach's history with these recommendations from Josh Even and Ken Friedman.

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Photo: City Lights


Before you begin eating and drinking, head to the center of where the beat poets flourished, the City Lights bookshop. Owned by Lawrence Ferlinghetti, this landmark bookshop opened in 1953 and is located across the street from Tosca.
Josh: You feel like you could have walked in 40 or 50 years ago when you come here. You get to see all of their work and a lot of it is published by City Lights itself. It has an excitement about it because of this collection of geniuses.


Vesuvio Cafe
Photo: Smswigart Flickr


Steps away from Tosca is Vesuvio Cafe, where Jack Kerouac, Neal Cassady and Allen Ginsberg congregated. They're known for their Bohemian Coffee with brandy, amaretto and a twist of lemon.
Josh: "It's fun to be in the same seat that I've read about all my heroes being in. It's definitely a different clientele now with more beer on tap."


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Photo: Unicellular Flickr


Caffe Trieste is an Italian coffeehouse that opened in 1956. It's said that this is where Francis Ford Coppola wrote the screenplay for The Godfather. Ken Friedman likes to come here in the mornings.
Ken: "This a great place where you'll find people that are completely out of their minds in a very kind of San Francisco North Beach beat poet kind of way and half of them are Nobel Prize winning poets and authors, the ones talking to themselves."


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Photo: Sony Yu


And make sure to visit Tosca. For Friedman and Bloomfield, keeping the soul of its past was essential for the renovation. They restored the historic murals, patched the checkerboard floors, turned the red vinyl banquettes into leather and rewired the jukebox, which still plays opera and a bit of rock n' roll.
Ken: There are a couple of must-visit places in every city and Tosca has always been a place you had to go to late at night.


To get more information about these places and additional recommendations for eating and drinking in San Francisco and New York from chefs April Bloomfield and Josh Even, and restaurateur Ken Friedman, download the Find. Eat. Drink. iPhone app here.
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RAILWAY MEN: A Film Review

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I could not help but think of that other Burma Railway movie, The Bridge on the River Kwai (1957, directed by David Lean and based on the short story by the French writer, Pierre Boulle) as I watched The Railway Man the other day. The two films provide a measure of how much our Western culture and attitudes have changed in the intervening half century. Both protagonists, played by Alec Guinness and Colin Firth respectively, are driven out of their minds by the experience of war, imprisonment and torture--but in very different ways.

Alec Guinness's Lieutenant Colonel Nicholson, the archetype of the British officer with the stiff-upper-lip and the devotion to duty and discipline at all costs, ends up so obsessed with his bridge-building challenge--no matter that it was assigned to him by his Japanese captors--that he all but forgets whose side he's on and nearly foils the plot the sabotage the enemy's project. While the story is all about the folly of war and the misguided values it inspires, ironically it manages to celebrate those same values. Thanks to the self-sacrifice and pluck of a handful of courageous men--and eventually of Nicholson himself--the sabotage succeeds. It's another stride toward the victory of the good guys over the bad, the triumph of good over evil.

How different is Colin Firth's Eric Lomax. We meet him long after the end of WWII. Along with a small coterie of fellow Burma Railroad survivors, he has for decades entombed the emotional wounds of his imprisonment and torture behind a wall of stolid silence. He is presented, even as a young officer, as courageous, yes, but at the same time vulnerable. It is less out of a sense of military duty that he risks his act of defiance against his captors (gerry-rigging a radio receiver out of purloined odds and ends) and more out of a need to preserve a shred of personal dignity and identity, and to maintain a spirit of camaraderie with his fellow prisoners. As punishment, he is caged in a confined bamboo hutch, and broken by constant water-boarding. In the intervening years, he has created his own painful cage--and gags at the throat when it comes to acknowledging, let alone revealing that pain.

Our culture has a different view of war these days, one transformed by Vietnam, Iraq, Afghanistan. By Bosnia and Serbia. By Cambodia and Rwanda. By Syria. We have a more nuanced understanding of good and evil, and what can be done by military force to promote the one and neutralize the other. Even the concept of "victory"--the kind that brought WWII to an end--eludes us. We understand that, in war, there are no winners, only losers on all sides. The victors in "The Railway Man" shown as deeply victimized by their experience as those who "lost."

If we know more, or differently about war, we also know about water-boarding. Or rather, what we thought we knew about it is presented with excruciating reality in "The Railway Man." In confronting us in this way, the film requires us to examine our own--collective, cultural--consciences, knowing that it has been practiced all too recently in our names. We can no longer enjoy the luxury of a feeling of moral superiority, which the earlier film allowed us. We can't escape the knowledge that we are now complicit with the Japanese torturers. Which is why we are ready, even eager to accompany Eric Lomax on his journey from barely-contained rage and hatred to forgiveness and reconciliation. At some, perhaps unconscious level, it is we who need to make peace with ourselves. It is greatly to the same of our species that even now, in the twenty-first century, war continues to rage throughout the planet.

We have also have a language, these days, for the damage men like Eric have suffered: it's called PTSD (post-traumatic stress disorder). The cost of war is not merely in the death count on both sides, not to mention the shameful proportion of civilians, but in the vast numbers of those who return wounded from the battlefields, whether in body or--as we have come more and more to understand--in mind. Did I mention that "The Railway Man" is a profoundly moving film? That Colin Firth's understated performance is outstanding, as is that of Nicole Kidman in the role of Patti, the wife who nursed him with infinite compassion toward recovery; and Hiroyuki Sanada as the Japanese officer/interpreter who was complicit in the torture? That director Jonathan Teplitzky's telling of the story is unhurried is an essential reflection of Eric's slow, reluctant path to healing.

Somewhere I read a review of "The Railway Man" that wondered whether another film about WWII was needed at this time. What I saw was a not a nostalgic movie looking back into the past, but one that reminds us in many ways to take stock of where we are right now, at the present moment; and to reflect, alas again, on the futility of war and on the responsibilities we incur when we embark upon it. The wounds that Eric needs to heal are not only the wounds of a war that was fought decades ago, but those of wars that persist today everywhere, not excluding our own.

TIM EBNER AT ROSAMUND FELSEN GALLERY

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Rosamund Felsen Gallery has a current exhibition of Tim Ebner's work. What a treat! For readers in the Los Angeles area, this is one absolutely not to be missed. It's sheer delight. Click on that Rosamund Felsen link and you'll immediately see what I mean: there's an image of Tim Ebner (he looks like he's having wicked fun!) and the recent work he's showing at the gallery, where all three spaces are chock-a-block with... fish!

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(I use my cell phone pictures throughout with the gallery's permission)


It's like being under water in some vast, exotic aquarium, with fish of all shapes, sizes and colors swimming all around you.

Ebner's fish are stitched together out of a mass of colorful patterned materials. The eyes of the larger ones are glossy, hand-made ceramics, and the smaller ones, beady glass. All seem to be staring at the odd-person-out in this magical environment--yourself. Each has its own distinct facial expression and its body language, fierce...

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... or whimsical, sad or curious. They are set up at a hundred different elevations on hand-welded stands, whose awkwardness turns into a paradoxical elegance...

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The movement that you sense in walking through the installations is your own, because the fish are static--how much better thus, I thought, than had they been suspended from the ceiling and moving, themselves, with ambient shifts of air. This would have seemed like a corny attempt at realism. No, this is art.

It's also fun. You simply cannot help but smile as you swim along with these fantasy creations. They sweep you out of the gloom of all those problems you bring in with you--whether personal, cultural, or political. And there's plenty of that going around. So do yourself a favor. Get delighted. Go swim with the fishes. You'll be glad you did.

Free Humanity: Street Art for the People

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He had me at "Political Star Wars Street Art."

From lotus flowers to veiled women, Free Humanity has been getting up all over Los Angeles for years now. Pastes, stencils, installation pieces, Free runs the gamut in his artistic arsenal of urban utensils used in applying his artwork all over. Though his work appears in fine art galleries, he largely relies on a street art palate of spray paint, stenciling over his cut out designs, finished with brushwork.

But of course, in art, it's ultimately not about your techniques as much as it is what you are trying to say. And Free has plenty to say. From Monsanto to drones, from Obama the Besieged to Obama the War Criminal, Free Humanity's artwork is intensely political, while fueled by Buddhist principles of egalitarian selflessness.

Over the course of making my documentary PAY 2 PLAY, I sought to follow individuals who were using their voice however they could to speak out about the crisis of corporate influence in America today. My exploration was rooted in the disastrous Citizens United decision by the Supreme Court, which granted the proxy of corporate personhood the Constitutional right to flood our elections with outside spending, under the guise of "free speech."

But I started to notice things here in Los Angeles that seemed to connect with the stories I was following in D.C. and Ohio. Corporate speech wasn't some abstract form of paid communications during elections. It's advertising. Particularly when corporate speech takes the form of outdoor advertising, the bombardment of products and mandated beauty takes a toll on the psyche. It's not uncommon to secretly wish to respond to this environment somehow.

That's why I was so drawn to find out more about Free Humanity, and how he managed to get his Star Wars themed political messages up all over the city without getting incarcerated.

After time and patience, Free granted me an interview and let me go out with him at night while he worked. The resulting footage appears in PAY 2 PLAY in a pivotal context about the double standards enjoyed by corporate personhood.

Following is an excerpt of my interview with Free Humanity, which appears in my book Where Else But The Streets, a photo journal of the street artists I documented while making this film. This new short documentary depicts Free Humanity on his own, how he typically rolls.



FREE HUMANITY:



I don't think I've ever been part of society. I think growing up in America, there's not much for the youth. This generation doesn't have much. And we're all looking for something -- something good, something meaningful to do, something worthwhile. And I guess I've been trying to do that my whole life, and I guess the easiest way to do it was put my art up illegally to represent my perspective. And I think it's changed my life and hopefully made people think about something, whatever it be, or maybe make them smile hopefully. I think that's very -- most important.

Basically what I'm trying to do is steal back the humanity that's been stolen from social manipulation and plant positive seeds through art and consciousness.

Should street art be considered a crime? I think that goes back to almost this age old question, like who owns the public space? Who's to say that a corporation that has millions of dollars can take over the skies, take over the skylines....And let's say if you try to put up a piece of art you might go to jail for what you feel might be beautifying the city.

The public space has been turned into a corporate advertising canvas. So you have these millionaire marketers that get paid millions of dollars to try to make people feel insecure that they need to buy a certain car, look a certain way, have a certain pair of shoes in order to fit into society.

The public space has been turned into a corporate advertising canvas. So you have these millionaire marketers that get paid millions of dollars to try to make people feel insecure that they need to buy a certain car, look a certain way, have a certain pair of shoes in order to fit into society.

Street artists are trying to plant a certain seed out in society that isn't there at the moment with art, and seizing the opportunity of doing it illegally -- even though they might get arrested, even though they might be thrown in jail -- to share a message with the public that isn't out there at the moment. And I think putting your art on the streets is key. It's the biggest gallery in the world.

Errol Morris: 'People Expect Me to Throttle Donald Rumsfeld'

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In his new movie The Unknown Known, American film director Errol Morris investigates the causes of the Iraq War and puts Donald Rumsfeld under interrogation. He explained to Max Tholl why he chooses understanding over judging and why his movies are political rather than politically motivated.

The European: A decade ago, when you won the Academy Award for The Fog of War, you said in your acceptance speech: "If people can stop and think and reflect on some of the ideas and issues in this movie, then perhaps I've done some damn good here." Do you think that the lessons have been learned?

Morris: No, I don't. The situations have changed, the names have changed, the dates have changed, but essentially the same kind of story is just repeating itself unendingly.

The European: Do films or books even have the power to change people's political point of view?

Morris: Of course they have. But we should not exaggerate this capacity. It is unlikely that a film or a book will change the course of history or even determine the outcome of a smaller and more specific process like a criminal prosecution, for example. But in principle, it should be able to do that, and you are always hoping that it will. In fact, one of my movies, The Thin Blue Line, did have that effect and helped to release a man who had been unjustly convicted and sentenced to life in prison for a murder he didn't commit.

The European: Would you agree that film is an extension of politics by visual means?

Morris: Is this your von Clausewitz definition of film? I like it!

The European: But?

Morris: But I am not completely convinced. I am well aware that film can be used for so many different purposes and to so many different ends. But what I do is make films about stories or issues that are interesting or important to me. In a way it's ironic that The Fog of War came out just when we were about to go to war in Iraq. But I didn't do that on purpose.

"You can't make an apolitical film about war."

The European: Are you trying to make a political statement with your movies or are you just trying to highlight and explore an issue that interests you?

Morris: I would say that it is all of the above. It doesn't have to be one thing or the other. I felt very strongly that the Iraq War was a terrible mistake, but I didn't simply make the Fog of War to address the policies of the Bush administration. Robert McNamara -- the former U.S. Secretary of Defense and the film's protagonist -- had fascinated me for most of my adult life and this was an opportunity to come to grips with him and some of the issues that led to the Vietnam War.

The European: So you wouldn't describe yourself as a political director?

Morris: No. I have made a lot of movies that are not political.

The European: French director Jean-Luc Godard famously argued that he is not "interested in making political films but in making films politically" -- to constantly question the obvious and to use the film to the benefit of society. Do you work according to a similar ethos when you're shooting political documentaries?

Morris: There are films that are clearly arguing for a political point of view. Several of my films concentrate on politics because they examine political figures or events. You can't make an apolitical film about war. But it is not my intention to make a political film per se. It's just a way to think about politics and to explore things I wanted to know more about. My films are first and foremost an investigation.

The European: An investigation of the "Unknown Known"?

Morris: Absolutely. I was, for example, struck by the difference between the Cuban Missile Crisis in 1962 and the beginning of the Iraq War in 2002. McNamara describes a meeting of the Executive Committee on how to avoid war with the Soviet Union. I was surprised by the efforts made, not to go to war, but to avoid it. Forty years later, Rumsfeld goes to Dick Cheney's office in the West Wing to provide assurances to the ambassador from Saudi Arabia that we will go to war no matter what. That's a really frightening story to me. I have tried to show in my movies that we should think twice, think three times or five times before going to war.

"There simply is no apologizing for Vietnam or Iraq."

The European: What was your motivation to interview both Robert McNamara and now Donald Rumsfeld for your movies?

Morris: It's probably my attempt to understand why we went to war -- in Vietnam and in Iraq.

The European: McNamara and Rumsfeld were the chief "architects" of those wars. Was it also a way to put them on trial or under interrogation?

Morris: You can probably call the movies my own private interrogation -- I wouldn't argue with that. But getting out a confession wasn't the primary reason to make either of these two films. That's not my duty.

The European: But you're nevertheless happy when it happens: In The Fog of War McNamara admits his guilt and wrongdoing...

Morris: I choose understanding over judging. I want to hear their reasons for going to war, but I don't want to publicly put them on trial for it. Otherwise it becomes this quasi-religious thing of supposed redemption. I don't even know what an apology in this context would mean. There simply is no apologizing for Vietnam or Iraq, so why aim for it?

The European: Did you even expect redemption from Rumsfeld?

Morris: No, I didn't. McNamara and Rumsfeld are two very different characters, regardless of what people say. I am quite sure that a number of people will criticize The Unknown Known.

The European: Why?

Morris: Because they're expecting an apology or an admission of responsibility, as if that was the main goal of any kind of political movie. If you're not playing into those expectations, you're inviting a lot of criticism and out-and-out nastiness. People probably expect me to get out of my chair and throttle Donald Rumsfeld -- to force him to admit his guilt. But to me, it's deeply significant that Rumsfeld is not apologizing and that he tries to portray himself as the good guy. It helps us to understand his actions, his motivation.

"The prurient and the pedantic."

The European: Why would somebody like Rumsfeld or McNamara even agree to speak to you? They clearly knew that you would confront them rather than compliment them.

Morris: Unfortunately, you can no longer ask Robert McNamara but he told me that he enjoyed talking to me because I was interested in what he had said and written. Rumsfeld is not dissimilar in this respect. He has spent a good deal of his working life spinning stories and commenting on events. He probably saw this as another opportunity to do just that.

The European: Other documentaries of yours, such as Tabloid and Gates of Heaven, focus on somewhat oddball stories rather than political realities. Do you approach these projects differently or is it just the topic that changes?

Morris: It's too complicated to reduce it to a "same approach, different topic" formula. But of course, there are a lot of similarities, if only because it's the same guy directing and the same people editing these movies. I always want to find out who these people in front of my camera really are. I want to capture the complexity of the individual and that of his surroundings. If I succeed in doing that, then I have made a good film.

The European: How would you describe your work in one word?

Morris: Perverse.

The European: Interesting.

Morris: I tell stories in a way that is not only unexpected but also absolutely contrary to what people would like to hear. It's an odd combination of the prurient and the pedantic.

Read more Interviews here: http://www.theeuropean-magazine.com/interviews

In Praise of Moogfest

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The more I perform at music festivals, the more I'm baffled by what might compel a person to attend one. The blazing heat of the mid-afternoon sun over an open field, the less-than-favorable hygiene conditions -- to say nothing of the cavernous stages, which showcase headlining acts and dwarf smaller bands, who try to create a lasting impression on a crowd always one frisbee game away from wandering off.

The exposure can be terrific, of course, and there is a certain glory in transcending the milieu, but much of the time, playing a music festival can be like having an art show at an airport: thousands of people see it, but nobody is there to see it. And you can't much control how they see it, either.

And then there's Moogfest, in Asheville, North Carolina.

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Asheville is a college town tucked at the foot of the Blue Ridge Mountains. It was here that Bob (née Robert) Moog, inventor of the Moog Modular synthesizer, settled in the late 1970s. In the years since his death in 2005, Moog Music has continued to thrive. Even in the age of bootlegged Pro Tools and audio plugins, Moog workers still hand-solder their in-demand analog synths, like the Minimoog Voyager, from a homespun factory on the edge of town.

Moog synthesizers are a hybrid of technology and art. In the early years, when they were festooned with colorful patch cables, they made strange bedfellows with the usual kit of rock n' roll, but musicians flocked to them regardless. Keith Emerson of Emerson, Lake & Palmer played a custom modular Moog synthesizer the size of a refrigerator. The Beatles used a Moog on Abbey Road. It's hardware--an alchemy of analog circuits, electronic modules, and oscillators--but, when operated by the right person, it becomes something greater than the sum of its parts.

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It makes sense, then, that Moogfest would become what it has: a place where technology and art interact, in wonky but undeniable synthesis. For me, Moogfest was the first occasion I've ever had to experience such synthesis. Besides playing music, I've been a science writer and science-fiction editor for many years. At Moogfest, I had the opportunity to present a panel, called "Science Fiction & The Synthesized Sound," which brought together an artist, two musicians, and a SETI researcher to discuss the music of the future, and the future of music. The same audience that thoughtfully took notes and asked probing questions of the panelists had been, only a day earlier, dancing like maniacs at my band's show. I can't imagine that this could happen anywhere else.

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DJ Awesome Tapes From Africa

Moogfest was once a more traditional festival, but it metamorphosed this year into a celebration of art, science, music and technology -- TED filtered through a distortion pedal, if you will. For five days, the festival proposed a cocktail of daytime talks to be chased by music late into the night. The day panels featured many old-school synth pioneers -- Dave Smith, designer of the first programmable polyphonic synthesizer, and Herbert Deutsch, Bob Moog's closest collaborator -- and a thoughtful variety of future-learning artists and thinkers: the cyborg activist Neil Harbisson, Oxford futurist Nick Bostrom, the pop android Janelle Monáe, and dozens more.

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Escort at Asheville Music Hall

Geekery thrived everywhere. The festival's Modular Marketplace was a veritable science fair of home-brew analog and digital synthesizers from all over the country. Some festivalgoers could be seen sporting headset brainwave sensors, creating auditory maps of the streets of Asheville as they ogled a virtual-reality iPhone rendition of their locations. Others just rocked Google Glass at panels on cybernetics, alternative interfaces, and hardware hacking. Even Monáe, with whom I was fortunate enough to moderate a panel discussion, name-dropped Ray Kurzweil and the science fiction author Octavia Butler.

The programming was precisely engineered, it seemed, to create a far more inclusive Venn diagram between music and technology. Musicians were lured out into the daylight to twiddle knobs and soak up talks by electronic music pioneers, while scientists, artists, and philosophers found themselves, in the late hours of the night, at the temple of sounds both synthesized and not. In an age where increased access to tools and information allows us all to be Renaissance people, and specialization feels more and more isolating, such an open--to say nothing of fun--venue for cross-disciplinary engagement feels long overdue.

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The Modular Marketplace, Moogfest's electronics pop-up shop

I commend Moogfest for its courage in creating this unorthodox, cheerfully intellectual festival. They have spotted a node in culture, where musicians teach themselves electronics to rewire keyboards and technologists create symphonies of data, that feels extremely relevant to our shared future. It's not an art show at the airport--if anything, it's an art show that is an airport. Or a spaceport. It takes you places. At Moogfest, every event is transportive, and behind every gate is something marvelous.

Photos courtesy of Nick Zinner
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