Culture & Arts

Structures have enormous power. The ancient Egyptians, who built burial pyramids for their kings believed the iconic shape of a mound of earth was the symbol of all life. The Burmese, whose bell-shaped Zedi monuments said to date from the 16th Century, constructed conical pagodas as places of meditation to houses their Buddhist relics as well as the ashes of their monks. Structures--both sculptured object and architectural edifice -- give us shelter, often outlast our lives, house our dead and contain our dreams. Weathered, regal and enduring, structures are the source of inspiration for the two artists, Jean Pagliuso and Toni Ross, now showing at The Drawing Room in East Hampton.

In 2010, Pagliuso and Ross traveled together to visit the ancient sanctuaries in Egypt and Burma. Often rising before dawn, they explored these historic sites at first light, before the crowds and the noise descended, when they were alone in the ruins. The mystery of that solitude of space and their collective inspiration permeates the gallery's combined presentation of their work.

JEAN PAGLIUSO. Fragile Remains II

Jean Pagliuso began her career in fashion photography and quickly rose to collaborate with film studios and directors like Robert Altman. There remains a backdrop of theatricality and an element of cinematic splendor in her work.

Her current series of images reflect both the grandeur and fragility of architecture. An extensive traveler, Pagliuso's examines the mystery of place. Her technique itself, painting silver gelatin on rice or mulberry paper, imparts her images with a gossamer quality that underscores the ethereal subject matter. These pieces, with their handmade construction, have an old school, 19th century feel. Sometimes Pagliuso glues two sheets together to form a longer panel, and the rippling seams add to the antique texture of her work.

The transcendent and the corporeal are constantly at play in a Pagliuso image. Seen from a distance her monuments convey an otherworldly panorama, but in miniature, as if we are viewing these worlds in the palm of our own hands like vistas in snow-globes. This perspective has the effect not of remoteness, but of emphasizing the fragility of these places and their susceptibility to human interaction.

(Jean Pagliuso, Zedi I, 2012, silver gelatin print on mulberry paper, 23 5/8 x 35 inches paper, 27 x 38 3/4 inches framed, Edition 2/20, photo Jean Pagliuso)

Pagliuso's lens often captures a distorted scale. Rubble at the foot of the pyramids, the building blocks and the formal patterns that make up these structures, are caught by her camera up close causing them to appear outsized. A corner of the temple in Machu Picchu, for instance, when reduced to a composition of squares and triangles, is nearly abstract.

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(Jean Pagliuso, Machu Picchu V, 2003, silver gelatin print on Japanese mulberry paper, 23 3/4 x 19 1/4 inches paper, 27 x 22 1/2 inches framed, Edition 2/20, photo by Jean Pagliuso)

Pagliuso is a master at capturing how spaces and structures cling to that ephemeral feature: memory. How the addition and subtraction of lives have been stored in these places. How they stand as testaments to life and bear witness to devotion. Some of the sites she has photographed are now so broken or divided by political conflict, they no longer exist as place, only as memory, only as image. In this context, they have transformed from sites of worship, to devotional objects. It is a testament to Pagliuso's eye and expertise that she has encapsulated this transmutation.

TONI ROSS Contained. Unbound

Toni Ross traveled to Italy in the 1980s where surrounded by Roman and Etruscan ruins, she trained as a painter. Returning to the Hamptons, she was mentored by Elaine de Kooning in painting and drawing, before devoting herself to her work in clay. She is a skilled pastry chef and educated in the rich traditions of Japanese ceramics. All these influences -- the painterly quality of her glazes, the sense of the ceramic as a canvas, the imprint of her touch, the texture of antiquity -- imbue work. Her narrow vessels are regal, otherworldly, but human scaled.

(L to R: Toni Ross, Narrow Vessel VIII, 2013, brushed black slip stoneware, 42 1/2 x 5 1/2 x 5 1/2 inches; Narrow Vessel VII, 2013, brushed black slip stoneware, 42 x 5 1/4 x 5 1/4 inches; Narrow Vessel I, 2013, brushed white slip stoneware, 44 x 6 x 6 inches; photo by Jenny Gorman)

Ross says that there is an element of self-portraiture to her sculptures. Their size is her size--the length of her arm. Their shape, tall and slender, is her shape. They are female, distinctly sensuous, with revealing, suggestive openings and secrets in their hidden interiors.

(Toni Ross, Untitled (TR 441), 2013, brushed white slip stoneware (abraded), 47 x 9 1/2 x 9 1/2 inches, photo by Jenny Gorman)

Covered in chalky glazes with surfaces abraded and scraped, Ross's sculptures are enveloped in quiet mystery. A timeless quality of texture and shape that owes as much to the tradition of abstraction as it does to the layered history of the sites she visited. On her travels, Ross was astonished to encounter shapes so similar to her own. From the terracotta "soul houses" in Cairo, which resonated with her slab cubes; to the stupas in Burma, which echoed her protruding cylindrical forms, Ross took away a deep affirmation of the idea of a collective unconscious.

This is a moment of confirmation for an artist -- a moment when like Rothko viewing the ancient ruins of Pompeii and realizing that all along he had been working towards the same idea of sacred space that these places epitomized -- an artist confronts the through-line of his or her work. It is exciting to witness Ross embrace this moment. Her objects now not only embody the complicated processes in her history, but a universal history. Both contained and unbound, these sculptures reveal a new, a delicate monumentality.

Combined, the presentation of Ross's and Pagliuso's works at the Drawing Room create an installation that feels very much like a sacred space. As if the architectural elements in Pagliuso's photographs have rematerialized in Ross's vessels and cubes. The show itself exists in a sort of liminal zone, between night and day, between the realm of desire and the world of manmade things. Between what Ross and Pagliuso experienced together on their journey, and what they then undertook in their individual work when they returned.

Basic Facts: JEAN PAGLIUSO: Fragile Remains II and TONI ROSS: Contained. Unbound are on view at The Drawing Room from May 23 until June 23, 2014. The Gallery is located at 66 Newtown Lane, East Hampton, NY 11937. The Drawing Room Gallery.

Join both Artists for A Conversation about their work at the Drawing Room Gallery on June 22 at 11:30 a.m.

All Images Courtesy of The Drawing Room

walk the lavender fields of Provence
through the grains of earth at lilac dawn
when clouds are opalescent air

barefoot
drop into the sweetness that is bitter that is beautiful
alongside oceans of organic cotton

planted into nourished soil
emerging from love
with love is a truth
clear and light and deep
that life is grand

ROG WALKER: A LONELYLEAP FILM from Rog Walker on Vimeo.

What's the most organic form of communication for any individual? This doesn't necessarily have to be limited to speaking and writing. Forms of communication can and do vary. For Rog Walker, photography is his medium. It connects him with humanity on an intimate level.

As an artist his aim is to "create something that is a reference point for a culture. Telling the story of an undefined group of people."

Viewing his images and being in his presence you immediately become part of his process. Whether you are the subject of his camera's gaze or you are an active participant providing your thoughts on feedback. You will undeniably be a contributor to his vision. What sets Rog Walker apart as an artist and an individual is his ability to engage all aspects of you. When reviewing his work you immediately feel that you are seeing his subjects more intimately than anyone else. You are welcomed into this secret society of sorts.

No portrait looks the same. A factor in this may be due to whom he chooses to shoot; each person has a unique air about him or her. Style is innate and there is no question that this secret society of subjects encompasses this. What I've noticed is that there is a uniform or a consistency in the way each person dresses. However, they've circumvented the mundane look this can produce. Why is that? My hypothesis, they have tapped into a place of comfort and level of self-validation that is important when expressing yourself through clothing. Each of them creates art using various mediums, which I believe is a catalyst for how they view themselves and the world. They've successfully listened to that voice inside of them and are learning to speak. They are talking through their art and style and others are taking notice.

In Walker's words he and his subjects are "Telling their stories and are mindful of the perspective they carry."

Take a look at the above newly released video by A Lonelyleap Film, which will allow you to dive into the creative process of photographer and storyteller Rog Walker.

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Architect Phil Freelon, whose Freelon Group recently merged with Perkins+Will, will be heading to Atlanta on June 23 for opening ceremonies centered around the design of his newest civic space:

It's the strikingly symbolic National Center for Civil and Human Rights (NCCHR).

Freelon will join veterans of the civil rights movement at an event that's timed to coincide closely with the 50th anniversary of the Civil Rights Act of 1964, signed into law by Lyndon Johnson on July 2, 1964.

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Architect Phil Freelon, inside the new National Center for Civil and Human Rights in downtown Atlanta. (Photo (c) Mark Herboth)

Freelon's firm, teamed with architect of record HOK, was named a finalist in a 2008 competition for the project, winning over designs by Diller Scofidio + Renfro and Polshek Partnership (now Ennead Architecture), among others.

"We'd made a presentation to the public and talked about the idea for the building, with models and renderings, music and historical imagery, and readings of poetry," Freelon says. "Long-story short, we won - and then people said: 'Who's Freelon?'"

Word hadn't yet reached Atlanta about the soon-to-be-named architect of record for the Smithsonian's Museum of African American History and Culture on the Mall in Washington, D.C., scheduled for completion next year.

Freelon took it in stride. Then he turned to address the formidable effects of the Great Recession on the new project. "It went from 93,000 square feet to 61,000 to 42,000," he says. "When it's 93,000 or 61,000, it can sit on site the same way. But at 42,000, it's different."

Exterior: The National Center for Civil and Human Rights, Atlanta, Ga. (© Albert Vecerka/Esto)

Still, his original concept of two facing walls, embracing each other around a central open space, endured. Those walls are clad in architectural paneling that varies in brownish tones, with Corbu-like fenestration that delivers light deep into the building. Much of his design for those two walls was inspired by arms linked courageously and in unity during the brutal and deadly civil rights struggles of the 1960s.

"Civil rights in the U.S.is a very compelling issue and here it's told in a way that's engaging and immersive, against a larger issue of global human rights," he says.

Interior: The National Center for Civil and Human Rights, Atlanta, Ga. (© Albert Vecerka/Esto)

The center tells its stories on three levels, beginning with an anchoring gallery on the lowest, dedicated to the Morehouse College Martin Luther King Collection. Floating above it is a series of exhibitions and galleries addressing civil rights. Above that is a third level of exhibitions on global human rights. The exhibit designer is New York-based Rockwell Group.

Located adjacent to the World of Coca-Cola and the Georgia Aquarium in downtown Atlanta, the building awaits future additions to bring it up to its original, expansive vision.

Entry: The National Center for Civil and Human Rights, Atlanta, Ga. (© Albert Vecerka/Esto)

"As we add significant wings for the extended program, it will look complete and balanced," he says. "We didn't want it to look unfinished at the beginning, so lot of effort was put into configuring things, so some will come at a natural progression as funds become available."

Opening ceremonies begin at 10 AM on Monday, June 23. On hand will be U.S. Rep. John Lewis (D-Ga), former U.N. Ambassador Andrew Young, representatives of the Martin Luther King family, and former Atlanta Mayor Shirley Franklin.

By the time it's over, most in Atlanta will be familiar with the work of Phil Freelon.

J. Michael Welton writes about architecture, art and design for national and international publications. He also edits and publishes a digital design magazine at www.architectsandartisans.com, where portions of this post first appeared.

In desolate northern Nevada, the massive festival Burning Man conjures a weeklong city from thin air, bringing pop-up restaurants, bakeries, and bars to a sandy no-man's-land

By Kevin Farrell

BURNING URGE

Every summer, tens of thousands of "burners" descend on the Black Rock Desert, toting survival supplies for the weeklong performance-art fantasia called Burning Man. Here, across more than 3,500 acres of sand under the relentless August sun, they build massive interactive art installations -- a fractal meditation pod made from timber and climbing nets; a fire-breathing dragon that melts down aluminum cans for sculptures; a 21-foot-tall tetrahedron of baseball bats and softballs -- and they erect hundreds of themed encampments. At the festival's apex, a 90-foot-tall effigy, The Man, is set ablaze. I've been attending for eight years. Out in the desert, there's no running water or electricity; we bring everything we need in and out: construction cranes, club-quality sound systems, and freezer trucks. Best of all, the whole place runs on a gift economy--no bartering, no buying, only giving -- including the "restaurants." I love to explore the culinary camps, where scrappy cooks whip up a bacchanalian spread -- North African lamb stew, ice cream frozen on the spot with liquid nitrogen, sushi made from salmon flown to the desert. Festgoers set up countless makeshift cafes, bakeries, and supper clubs where you're free to go in and eat your fill.

Credit: Jim Urquhart/Reuters

FEELS LIKE HOME

Music plays a central role at Burning Man, where revelers like the Mohawked woman at electronic music encampment Distrikt have their choice of dance parties. But camp themes are wide ranging: Last year I came 2,000 miles from my home in New Orleans only to happen upon another French Quarter here. Five hundred people built a fever-dream version from scratch with blue, yellow, and pink pastel facades, and a massive generator powering the enclave. As in the original, food was at the heart of this French Quarter: The Santopalato Supper Club featured a different chef's cooking each night. I traveled there, and everywhere, from my tent using the festival's preferred mode of transportation: a bicycle. It's amazing what you can discover peddling through the dust, like the Pacificana pop-up at Santopalato. Marketing consultant Victoria Davies grilled ginger flank steak and chile-laced sweet-potato cakes over an open fire. Down the street, Darias Jonker and other volunteers at Black Rock Bakery turned out crusty breads from an old airport Cinnabon oven. The efforts of these temporary restaurateurs are astonishing. Yehonatan Koenig, an Israeli-born ad agency director from California, started planning six months out for his special boil dinner, for which he flew in 100 pounds of live crawfish, cooking everything in two 80-quart pots.

Credit: Nick Vivion

CITY LIMITS

Even with room for 68,000, Burning Man sold out last year. It may seem impossible to find anyone or anything in this sprawling temporary "Black Rock City," but it's laid out with street signs in a semicircle around The Man and a central temple. Some camps are mobile, though, setting up off the packed, curving grid of streets in unannounced locations: To find the popular Dust City Diner -- a '50s-era greasy spoon run by California artists Michael Brown and David Cole -- I biked into the central open sand, searching for its LED sign. At a Formica counter jerry-rigged in a flatbed truck, servers in blond beehive wigs sporting names like Dixie dished out coffee and pancakes on classic blue china. At other eateries, some of my favorite things are the sweets. When you're tussling with sandstorms, you just kind of want a treat -- something like Davies' yogurt cake with passion fruit sauce -- to keep your spirits lifted and primed for yet another crazy experience on, say, a 30-foot pendulum swing or an animal-shaped art car.

Credit: Nick Vivion

Every year, approximately 70,000 gallerists, collectors, curators, artists, art critics and art and design-lovers descend on Basel, Switzerland for the annual art and design fairs Art Basel and Design Miami/ Basel. Facing one another in the Messeplatz (exhibition plaza), the two fairs, while different in scope, content and curation, have become a barometer of what to watch in modern and contemporary art and design. Art Basel is expansive, spanning three halls with with 285 galleries from 34 countries, and Design Miami/ Basel features 51 galleries; it is quite frankly impossible to cover this all in one day, yet alone the six days the fair is open. With that in mind, I've created a simple plan -- a cheat sheet of what you cannot miss this fair-going weekend, which of course leaves you more time to visit Basel's phenomenal museums and collections, swim in the Rhine, and take a day trip to the Black Forest.

1. "14 Rooms" at Art Basel, Hall 3 of Messe Basel
Curators Klaus Biesenbach (of MoMA PS1) and Hans Ulrich Obrist (of Serpentine Galleries) have reinterpreted and evolved their perennial "Rooms" exhibition this week in Basel, as "14 Rooms." Laid out in a Herzog & de Meuron-designed exhibition space constructed within the hangar-like convention hall, each room features performance works created by pioneers from Yoko Ono, Joan Jonas, Bruce Nauman, Marina Abramović, John Baldessari, and Damien Hirst to up-and-comers like Xu Zhen and Jordan Wolfson. Enjoy a coffee at the airstream following your living sculpture experience.

JORDAN WOLFSON, (Female Figure) 2014, 2014. Courtesy of the artist and David Zwirner, New York/London

JOAN JONAS, Mirror Check, 1970, Photo credit courtesy Manchester City Galleries, Courtesy Manchester City Galleries

2. Wearable Art at Louisa Guinness Gallery, Design Miami/ Basel, Booth G29
At Design Miami/ Basel, London-based gallerist Louisa Guinness shows stunning jewelry pieces by modern and contemporary artists, from rare pieces -- like a spiraling Alexander Calder brooch and a Roy Lichtenstein pin--to commissioned editions, like a Jeff Koons rabbit strung as a pendant necklace and Anish Kapoor cufflinks. The pieces are not only stunning but offer one the opportunity to make art fashion.

Alexander Calder brooch

3. Portable Housing at Design Miami/ Basel
Design Miami/ Basel offers three opportunities to not only live with your design pieces but in your design pieces: First, visit Pierre Jeanneret and Jean Prouvé's 1942 F 8x8 BCC House. The one-room house is a beautiful example of Prouvé's influential pre-fabricated (aka "prefab") design, and marks the brilliant collaborative friendship between the two iconic designers. Learn more about the history and construction of the F 8x8 BCC House from design specialist Alex Gilbert. Second, take a peek inside the late Jean Benjamin Maneval's 1965 Maison Bulle 6 Coques (Six-Shell "Bubble" House), the only entirely plastic house in France to go into production. Finally, take a look at Konstantin Grcic's mobile Audi pavilion, where Grcic, known for his furniture design, used seven tailgate doors from Audi TT racecars to create a lunar experience, on Earth.

PIERRE JEANNERET & JEAN PROUVÉ, F 8x8 BCC House, 1942, Pierre Jeanneret, Architect & Jean Prouvé, Constructor, Unique, Courtesy Galerie Patrick Seguin

5. Unlimited Sector at Art Basel, Hall 1 of Messe Basel
Under the direction of curator Gianni Jetzer for the third year in a row, this year's Unlimited is among the best examples of recent curatorial intervention within an art fair setting. Set within the hangar-like Messe hall, Unlimited features 78 works from renowned artists, from monumental sculptures and paintings to video pieces and installations. My personal favorites include the immersive environment of Light & Space artist Doug Wheeler; a large-scale canvas and mirrored floor from Harold Ancart, which produces an awe-inspiring reflection; a stunning Julio Le Parc installation that plays with light and shadow; a room-size installation filled with amorphous plush sculptures by Sterling Ruby that crawl, hang and dangle from the white walls; a Carle Andre steel floor work from the 1980s that spans the diagonal length of the entire hall; and a wall devoted to Kara Walker, amongst many others.

JULIO LE PARC, Continuel Mobile -- Sphère rouge, 2001-2013, Red plexiglas, steel threads, aluminium, painted wood sphere; second of a set of nine unique pieces. Only two were produced. Courtesy of Bugada & Cargnel.

STERLING RUBY, SOFT WORK, 2011-2014, 77 soft sculptures, Xavier Hufkens in collaboration with Sprüth Magers (fabric, fiber fill, rope and hardware)

6. Statements at Art Basel, Hall 2.1 of Messe Basel
Step into the Statements section of Art Basel for a concentrated injection of emerging talent -- the sector features solo projects by young, emerging artists, presented by 14 galleries; of these, nine were new to Art Basel. Make sure to visit the booth of Pilar Corrias Gallery to watch the film of 29-year-old John Skoog, who was awarded the Baloise Art Prize. Skoog's work (Reduit (Redoubt), 2014) will be acquired by the Baloise Group and donated to a European museum collection; he'll also receive a solo exhibition.

7. Sheila Hicks' Séance (2014), Design at Large commission for Design Miami/ Basel
The 79-year-old, Parisian-based American artist (and student of Joseph Albers) Sheila Hicks' technicolor fiber landscape would set adults and children alike into a fantasyland only inhabited in one's dreams. Rolling hills of fiber bundles, and a cascading pillar of cords and thread make up this dreamlike environment, complete with a table and chairs to make your own palette of pigment-rich tiles.

8. Stellar Works on Paper at Art Basel, Halls 2.0 and 2.1 of Messe Basel
Both the modern-focused ground floor (Hall 2.0) and the more contemporary first floor (Hall 2.1) are dotted with subtle but stellar works on paper. Standouts include Gert & Uwe Tobias at Galerie Sabine Knust (Hall 2.0, Edition Q3), Louise Bourgeois at Cheim & Read (Hall 2.0, C14), Jorinde Voigt at David Nolan Gallery (Hall 2.0, A12) and Galerie Klüser (Hall 2.0, D12), Rirkrit Tiravanija at Singapore Tyler Print Institute (STPI) (Hall 2.0, Q2), Richard Aldrich at Bortolami (Hall 2.1, M13), Jose Dávila at Galería OMR (Hall 2.1, N19), Bjarne Melgaard at Galerie Guido W. Baudach (Hall 2.1, P23), and Shooshie Sulaiman at Tomio Koyama Gallery (Hall 2.1, K17).

BJARNE MELGAARD, Untitled (Fashion Drawing), 2014. Colored crayon on paper. Courtesy Guido W. Baudach, Berlin photo: Roman März

9. Contemporary Ceramics at Art Basel (Hall 2.1) and Design Miami/ Basel
Ceramics are coming back with a force, proven at both Art Basel and Design Miami/ Basel. Notable artists and designers working in ceramics include Josh Smith at Standard (OSLO) (Hall 2.1, J5), Dan McCarthy at Anton Kern Gallery (Hall 2.1, J10), Lee Hun Chun at Gallery Seomi (Design Miami/ Basel, Booth G02), Glithero at Gallery FUMI (Design Miami/ Basel, Booth G37), Djim Berger at Galerie BSL (Design Miami/ Basel, Booth G42), and Betty Woodman at Salon 94 (Design Miami/ Basel, Booth G30).

10. Top places to sit after a long day at the fairs
Finally, after a long day walking the fairs, you'll need a place to rest your weary feet. Head to Design Miami/ Basel where you'll find hand-painted leather and enamel stools and benches by Kueng Caputo (Salon 94, Booth G30); seating by Jean Royère at Galerie Jacques Lacoste (Booth G47), Galerie Chastel-Marechal (Booth G43), and Galerie Mattieu Richard (Booth G35); Porky Hefer's nest-like chaise longue at Southern Guild (Booth G34); Ettore Sottsass mint-green gems at Erastudio Apartment Gallery (Booth G36); the Haas Brothers's furry friends at R & Company (Booth G12): chairs by iconic Italian craftsman Gio Ponti at Nilufar Gallery (Booth G05) and Galleria O. Rome (Booth G24); and the innovative and sustainable aluminum foil-covered works by emerging talent Chris Schanck at Johnson Trading Gallery (Booth G15). (Please note, you may not be able sit on all these works. Ask first!)

KUENG CAPUTO, Never Too Much Bench 9, 2013, Courtesy Salon 94.

JEAN ROYÈRE, chauffeuse, circa 1950. Painted metal, fabric and sheep fur. © Hervé Lewandowski, Courtesy Galerie Jacques Lacoste.

CHRIS SCHANCK, Alufoil chair, 2014. Resin aluminum, courtesy Johnson Trading Gallery.

(Above) Sandra Gottlieb, October Waves No. 16 (2013), archival digital c-print on Fuji paper mounted on Sintra, 20 in X 24 in (courtesy of the artist)

The works by two very different artists currently on exhibit at BCB ART establish a surprisingly fluid dialog. Brenda Gigerich presents ten, one of a kind mono prints, all from this year, which show a somewhat distant, rather symbolic view of land and sea. Sandra Gottlieb is a photographer who offers eight up-close chromogenic prints that capture the varied crests of waves near the shores of Rockaway Beach in Queens, NY - all executed in October of 2013.

(Above) Brenda Gigerich, Untitled (2014), monotype on rag paper, 22 in X 24 in (courtesy of the artist)

In Gigerich's art, there are suggestions of automatic writing in works such as Red Sky, or ritualistic dancing in Before the Storm and one untitled piece which plays well against the Jackson Pollock-like patterns, spatters and sprays of frothy white water at the peak of the crashing waves in Gottlieb's October Waves No. 4.

(above) Jackson Pollock, The Deep (1953), oil and enamel on canvas, 7 ft 2 3/4 in x 59 1/8 in (220.4 x 150.2 cm), Musée national d'art moderne, Centre Georges Pompidou, Paris (www.archive.com)

(Above) Sandra Gottlieb, October Waves No. 4 (2013), archival digital c-print on Fuji paper mounted on Sintra, 20 in X 24 in (courtesy of the artist)

Both artists create works that bare two distinct halves. Gigerich utilizes a precise horizon line that cuts right through her compositions separating a highly textured or toned down ground from a sometimes tumultuous, and other times sober sky. These splits in Gigerich's work add substantial weight to composition, despite the fact there are, in many instances, very few deep colors or dark values used. Gottlieb, on the other hand, relies solely on a very controlled depth of field -- a substantial divide between the focused area of the closest wave to the nebulous form, tone and color of the distant water behind it. This split in clarity makes for a very surreal separation between near and far as it eliminates any visibly recognizable middle ground.

(Above) Brenda Gigerich, Oaxaca Deis (2014), monotype on rag paper, 12 in X 12 in (courtesy of the artist)

(Above) Sandra Gottlieb, October Waves No. 5 (2013), archival digital c-print on Fuji paper mounted on Sintra, 30 in X 40 in (courtesy of the artist)

One big commonality is, that in each piece, there is a reverence for the organic, a sense of the magic of immediacy, and a recognition of the power of chance. Gigerich achieves her affects through the process of working with oil paints on Plexiglas or metal, paper and an etching press. In the right hands, the process of monotyping can yield the chilling depth in the sky, water and rocks of Before The Storm #2, or the sense of fear, as if one is looking through nearly closed eyes, in Before the Storm #3.

(Above) Brenda Gigerich, Before the Storm #3 (2014), monotype on rag paper, 15 in X 15 in (courtesy of the artist)

In Gottlieb's images of the sea, there is a confounding intimacy. The translucence of the waves, the starkness of the white water, the vagueness of the distant fields all create a strange sort of unsteadiness as we process the information before us. We've all seen like realities as we walk or wade along the sea's edge and experience similar views. Yet these pauses in the action, the collective and collapsing energy that results in a variety of elements captured in works such as October Wave No. 3 are truly remarkable.

(Above) Sandra Gottlieb, October Waves No. 3 (2013), archival digital c-print on Fuji paper mounted on Sintra, 30 in X 40 in (courtesy of the artist)

It's not just about the familiarity of the world around us. It's about what we take from our experiences, what we choose to share and the resulting sensitivity that new perspectives instill in all of us.

BCB ART is in Hudson, NY. The exhibition ends July 6th.

Look at that title.

Go on, lean forward and really let those six words baste your eyeballs.

I know...only nine?

No, I am not angling for a fistfight, thank you very much. And, no, I'm also not woefully underexposed to the virtual scores of female protagonists and rebels who've supercharged science fiction's lifeblood in the past 40 years. It seems that since my novel, Koko Takes a Holiday, features similarly clever dure à cuire somehow I've been deemed capable of winnowing down such a list. Lucky me, right? No, not really. See the aforementioned invitation to fisticuffs.

Taking into account the avid sentiments of science fiction's votaries, I'm proactively raising a white flag and hereby declare the following selections purely subjective. Nevertheless, as badass lists go I think it's a fine place to start.

mothers day movies

I'll go obvious with my first pick and kick off the list with Sarah Connor from the Terminator saga. Ah, dearest Sarah...petite, wage-slaving waitress who'd much rather plan a quiet Saturday night at home but ends up being hunted by a killing machine from the future and eventually gives birth to humankind's only hope. Any "nays" for this choice out there? Didn't think so. Favorite quote: "Anybody not wearing '2 million sunblock' is gonna have a real bad day...."

Jenette Vasquez, Private-First Class, 2nd Battalion Bravo Team, USCMC from Aliens. When people wax on about the Alien franchise, nearly everyone reverently defers to Lieutenant Ellen Ripley. Yeah, Ripley certainly is a badass, but with my back against the wall and toothy Xenomorphs on my six I want the selfless, take-no-lip gunner Vasquez checking the corners and bringing the moxie. Favorite quote: "Let's rock!" Naturally I suspect that the script's original anti-verbiage may have been less heavy metal-inspired (something starting with an "f" followed immediately by a word starting with a "t"). At least Vasquez didn't add a corny n'roll.

carrie

Curve ball time...Carrie White from Stephen King's Carrie. Oh, yes, you read that right. Carrie bloody-prom-gown-check-out-my-psychotic-batty-mother-issues-White. To be fair, I think telekinesis counts as science fiction, yes? The ultimate bully and child abuse comeuppance ass-kicker. Favorite quote: "It has nothing to do with Satan, Mama. It's me. Me. If I concentrate hard enough, I can move things."

gillian anderson

FBI agent Dana Scully from The X-Files. I'm sorry, but as the reliable skeptic and yin to Fox Mulder's chronically gloomy, Chicken Little yang, Scully for me will always be the archetype of smart being the new sexy (sorry, Irene Adler--BBC's Sherlock, Dr. Scully got there first.) Favorite quote: "I need you to get on the phone and tell the fire department to block off the city center in a one mile radius around the building. Don't think! Just pick up the phone and make it happen!" Yes, ma'am. Be still, my heart....

Next on this list of nine I'm going to have to go with President Laura Roslin from Battlestar Galactica. No offense, but if you told current U.S. Secretary of Education Arne Duncan he'd been promoted to the position of Commander-in-Chief because of a genocidal Cylon attack, I'm sure he would simply fold up and cry. Terminally diagnosed, jilted by romance yet still coolly intact, Roslin broils badass chops for dinner. Yes, she has her critics, but I don't care and (I suspect) neither does she. Favorite quote: "I'm not suggesting anything, doctor. If I want to throw a baby out an airlock I'll do it."

walking dead michonne

Michonne from The Walking Dead. Take a long, slow pour of rot-oozing zombies, cut out a mother's heart via the death of her only son, and add a curved, slim katana sword with a dash of brooding attitude. Even if her name sounds like a pretentious, overpriced perfume and she dresses like a movie extra from the achingly bad Waterworld, it's hard not to include her on the list. Favorite quote: "I can't stop you. But you can't stop me from helping you."

River Song from Dr. Who. This selection was suggested by my youngest child (an avid Whovian), and I think I have to agree. Born Melody Pond, River Song is an improvising gadfly with both Timelord and human DNA. She is also another sassy, self-sacrificing badass and cagey to a fault. Favorite quote: (Referring to the TARDIS and chastising the Doctor with élan) "It's not supposed to make that noise--YOU leave the brakes on."

katniss

Katniss Everdeen from The Hunger Games. Look, I've only read the first book, okay? Technically anybody who is deft at archery, knows how to dress and cook a squirrel in the wild, and volunteers to likely be killed to save her own kid sister's skin is a badass in any book. Favorite quote: "Shut up and eat your pears."

Forever Carlyle, Lazarus. As of this moment, Greg Rucka and Michael Lark's creation is my favorite "near future" fictional heroine of all time. Solider/protector and raised to believe she is part of the ruthless, baron-like Carlyle family, Forever fights for and defends her family's holdings without pause or question. Her deadly journey of self-discovery is what's truly heartbreaking. Favorite quote: (As a wee badass-in-training speaking about her presumed, cold-hearted father...) "Don't tell him I cried."

By Craig Carpenter and Dominic Fowler

The Polish journalist and war correspondent, Ryszard Kapuściński describes in his masterpiece 1976 book, Another Day of Life, the looming transition in Angola from Portuguese colonization to independence. Prior to the civil war that would follow, the exiting colonists exhibited a silent, paralyzing dread in consideration of the impending native hordes coming from the countryside to enact revenge and retribution after almost exactly 400 years of European subjugation. The regime was such that a starkly divided society was created, with all of the riches and benefits being denied to the African population in toto. The fear accompanying the exodus was part of a bundle of emotions and feelings -- not the least of which could be described as White guilt. The Bedford-Stuyvesant that Spike Lee portrayed in his seminal film, Do The Right Thing, is not entirely dissimilar from Kapuściński's Angola. The final days of David Dinkin's administration, as New York City's first African American mayor, included the beginning of a fiercely acrimonious re-election campaign versus the ascendant Rudy Giuliani, a race riot in Crown Heights, the travesty that was the Central Park Rape case, and 17-year-old Yusef Hawkins, murdered by an angry mob of White youths from Bensonhurst. It is an understatement to suggest that race relations in the city were at a low ebb.

The forceful baritone of Public Enemy's Chuck D opens the film with the lines from their now anthemic song, "Fight The Power," while the then unknown Rosie Perez shadowboxes in silhouette. It was as if Lee, in his third feature, was challenging the film industry, American society, and New York City itself, to a street fight. And perhaps he was. By then, widely acknowledged as a talented filmmaker, Spike Lee had begun to earn the reputation of a provocateur, often said to lob controversial bombs into his interview appearances, and being accused of "reverse racism". The lighting rod topic of race was so entwined in the national popular dialogue, yet the much needed race conversation was never fulfilled. Mr. Lee's film, though lauded at Sundance, received criticism and raised alarms due to fears that the film's fiery end would result in conflagrations across the cities where it would subsequently screen. Watching the film again, 25 years later, it is in the opinions of these writers that Do The Right Thing was the most well realized attempt at such a conversation; one in which, unfortunately, too many people chose not to advance or take part in.

Instead, the focus was as misplaced then as it is now. Perceived as inflammatory and inciting, many critics missed (or dodged) the point. In the video of the film's theme song mentioned above, "Fight the Power" when Chuck D gives his unapologetic opinion of cultural icons; "Elvis was a hero to most but he never meant s#% to me as a straight-up racist, the sucka was simple and plain," with Flava Flav adding, "Mutha%^! him and John Wayne!" there is an almost orgasmic reaction from the crowd. Observed closely, it is not the joy of insulting Elvis Presley that ignites the crowd. It is the happiness of being heard. It is the Black barbershop being brought to the big stage and it is electrifying in its conspicuousness. If one would have only asked, "why the diss?" instead of reacting to a sacred cow being slaughtered, we could have found ourselves opening the door of that elusive race conversation. Spike Lee, through this film, tried to open that door.

In many ways he was profoundly successful. Do The Right Thing correctly and prophetically described what was happening. That accurate portrayal created a bridge for urban youth from coast to coast. On the West Coast, the Bed-Stuy, Bensonhurst and Central Park challenges and atrocities, widely reported, were well known, but the sting - much like the miles between Cali and New York City, was distant. Yet the themes within the film hit so very close to every home, were also evidenced in the lyrics delivered by proto-gangsta rap group, N.W.A.'s Ice Cube in "How To Survive In South Central": "now, if you're White you can trust tha police, but if you're Black they ain't nothin' but beast. Watch out for the kill, don't make a false move, and keep your hands on the steering wheel." These stories echoed in every hood, from coast to coast. There would be other attempts to bear fruit from Spike's rich soil. John Singleton's 1995 film Higher Learning comes to mind. Having had the good fortune of joining the party six years later, you will notice the film is decidedly more, "on the nose", in its tone than that of its predecessor. That is by no means a slight. It is simply an observation. If Do The Right Thing was the prophetic voice of warning, then Higher Learning was the all caps version, screaming to the masses, "it's getting worse", while the Hughes Brothers' 1993 anti-social narrative, Menace II Society had already scared middle America to death. The latent anger and discontent in certain communities was no longer a secret.

Spike Lee is an extremely confident filmmaker, surrounding his most obvious thematic statements with brilliant subtleties. The character "Smiley," played by Roger Guenveur Smith, is reminiscent of a character most city dwellers are familiar with: marginally indigent and suffering an unnamed affliction, yet, very much a part of the neighborhood. In this case, Smiley weaves throughout the film trying to sell postcards bearing a famous image of Martin Luther King and Malcolm X, hands clasped, the photo adorned in the style of fellow Brooklynite, Jean-Michel Basquiat. Speaking in a halting stutter, Smiley solicits each passerby to buy one of his cards for a dollar. The cards themselves, an updated visual on the dueling philosophies between the two slain Civil Rights leaders, were flatly refused by everyone they were offered to, with Spike's character, Mookie, firmly interrupting him, "Smiley, not now!" The allegory here seems to be the aforementioned conversation, never had -- avoided, or put off, with Smiley being unable to adequately articulate his frustration; a mirror of our society. Lee is more obvious with the character, Radio Raheem, played with a controlled and measured menace by Bill Nunn. His soliloquy about love versus hate further places into perspective the forces threatening to rend apart Bed-Stuy, as well as these United States. The final showdown, the long simmering boil-over on the hottest day of the summer, comes when Radio Raheem squares off with the owner of Sal's Famous, his and the long suffering masses' anger represented by Chuck D's missive booming from the oversized radio which Sal proceeds to destroy -- once again silencing the now shouted conversation -- only this time for good. Lee presents a sad, heartbreaking outcome with no solutions, as if echoing the Ghandi quote, "an eye for an eye makes the whole world blind." Without giving answers, Lee, once again offers the audience the chance to talk about it -- to figure out what is the right thing to do.

Each character in the film represents a different segment of society, each with their own valid points and agendas. Do The Right Thing, taking place in a Brooklyn of 25 years ago, was prophetic in that it showed how, in proximity, everyone must learn to live together, if not necessarily in love. That Brooklyn is no longer there, but the events nationwide, from then to now, show that, as a society, we still have a lot to talk about. Just three years after the film, we'd see the aftermath of the trial and acquittal of the officers charged in beating Rodney King, as well as the nation's split decision on the not guilty verdict in the O.J. Simpson murder trial.

There has been some progress since then, on many fronts. Barack Obama, the nation's first and only African-American elected president, faces, along with some of the most virulent opposition seen in generations, more than thirty death threats daily. Obviously, many things haven't changed enough; also evidenced by the tragic deaths of Oscar Grant and Trayvon Martin, respectively. The Academy of Motion Picture Arts and Sciences this year awarded to 12 Years A Slave, a narrative of Solomon Northrup, revisiting a story set at the early part of this nation's history, the Best Supporting Actress to Lupita N'yongo and Best Achievement in Direction to Steve McQueen, both of African descent. It seems that in 2014, the nation was ready for that conversation. Do The Right Thing was, by many accounts, snubbed by the Academy in it's selection for Best Picture. Still, these years later, the city of New York, under newly elected Mayor Bill De Blasio (himself married to a Black woman, with whom he has two children), recognized the importance and significance of the film by renaming the street on which it was filmed, "Do The Right Thing Way." Spike deserves this honor, and more. Twenty-five years is indeed a long time.

The Academy of Motion Picture Arts and Sciences will host 25th Anniversary screenings and live discussions of Spike Lee's Do The Right Thing on June 27th in Los Angeles at the Bing Theater, and on June 29th in Brooklyn at the BAM Harvey Theater

Just over a month ago, Sarah Inoue Virk, a Music Business major at Berklee College of Music, hosted an event called "Balancing Musicianship and Business." This is where I met the incredibly talented and inspiring Kiran Gandhi, a current MBA student at Harvard Business School and drummer for M.I.A., British-Sri Lankan recording artist and songwriter.

As a percussionist and a prospective MBA student, I found many similarities between Gandhi and I. Like Gandhi, I hope to become a music business leader and re-imagine the music industry. After listening to her speak at the event, I was so inspired. I started to get excited about the future of the music industry, as we need more determined people like Kiran Gandhi. I knew I had to find out more about her story!

Music has been in Gandhi's life for a while. At the age of 12, Gandhi discovered her passion for drums at a summer camp in Maine. One day, when the camp members were involved in water sports activities, she snuck away and tested out the drum set in the theater, when a man sweeping the floors caught Gandhi playing the drums.

"I thought he was going to kick me out or get me to return to the camp, but he said he could teach me!" Every day that summer, Gandhi learned how to play the drums and developed her passion for drumming and music.

Throughout the following years, Gandhi became inspired by her parents' passion for politics and strong sense of giving back. She then decided to pursue Political Science, Mathematics, and Women's Studies at Georgetown University.

During her second year, Gandhi interned at the D.C. mayor's office, which she really enjoyed. One day when Gandhi was looking across the street, she noticed many people protesting a homeless shelter that the mayor was going to shut down. She didn't understand why they were protesting. Later that evening, Gandhi went to Eighteenth Street Lounge, a club in D.C., where she found the folks protesting earlier that day. She learned that Thievery Corporation, the band performing at the club, led the rally. This was the first time when Gandhi's passion for drumming, music, and nightlife merged very deeply with her passion for politics and ability to move people towards action.

After getting involved with this scene, Gandhi got an internship at record label Rhythm & Culture. This internship ultimately gave her the confidence to apply for a job at a larger label once she graduated. She eventually got an internship at Interscope Records (Universal Music Group), which later turned into a full-time job as the company's first Digital Analyst.

If you're familiar with Interscope, you may be aware that M.I.A. is one of many remarkable artists in the record label's roster. As a fan of M.I.A., Gandhi attended meetings regarding M.I.A. and eventually met her too. One afternoon, Gandhi told Product Manager Diana Kass that it would be cool if M.I.A. had a drummer. Kass told Gandhi, "Okay. Send me a video."

"I was so excited! I got my friends to help create the video. We actually put it together in 48 hours and sent it to her. I got an email in my inbox from M.I.A. herself that night. It read: 'Hey, we're not thinking about the tour yet, but I'll hit you up when we do. I love the video.' I was speechless."

Check out the video she sent in below!

In the meantime, Gandhi got accepted into Harvard Business School's MBA program in March. By the end of June, Gandhi found out that M.I.A. wanted to take her on the road! Gandhi played a couple of concerts over summer in the United States, Canada, and Japan.

"I started school in August and got another email. Do you want to come to Poland and the UK? Do you want to do Mexico? Chile? Argentina? New York? Yes, I said. Let's make it work."

In the beginning it was easy for Gandhi since the concerts were always over the weekend. She would attend class Monday through Friday, perform throughout the weekend, read the cases for class on the plane, and reach back in time for class on Monday.

"There was one crazy week when I had to go to New York, though. After finishing class on Thursday morning, I flew to New York to play a rehearsal. I came back to Boston on Friday morning. I had class and had a midterm! I flew back to New York and played a show at Terminal Five."

The following week, she flew back and forth from Boston to New York to play shows and attend classes. Yikes! How stressful yet awesome does that sound? Perhaps her theory of atomic living helped her juggle classes and gigs.

Check out Gandhi's TEDx Brooklyn talk on Atomic Living, a theory that Gandhi created, below.

When thinking about the future of the music industry, Gandhi wants to see artists become more engaged with platforms that currently exist to distribute music, like YouTube and Spotify.

"One element that Spotify isn't capitalizing on is artists," said Gandhi. "They would add value by validating the service. People trust the artists more. If I saw what M.I.A. was listening to, I would definitely want listen to that. Furthermore, some fans feel that if they listen to an artist's content on Spotify or YouTube, they aren't real fans since the artist isn't making as much. But the truth is that volume is key with these two platforms, and the more they listen, the better the artist does."

At Harvard, Gandhi is trying to identify unmet needs in the music industry and map those needs to services currently offered in the industry. Who is already attempting to solve these problems, and where are there still holes? What does the future hold for Gandhi, though? That depends on her research on these unmet needs -- does she need to start something or join an established company to add value? Let's wait and see! Keep an eye out for her -- I know she will do great things!

The reason we hold truth in such respect is because we have so little opportunity to get familiar with it.

-- Mark Twain, 1898

On June 18, 2014 the American Film Institute offered audiences the opportunity to become familiar with the truth when its five-day documentary festival in Washington D.C. opened with an instant classic: Holbrook/Twain: An American Odyssey. With dozens of excellent new documentaries to choose from, the AFI made the right choice in selecting this film to open the festival. The film is intimate, compelling and all-American. And it is honest.

Lovingly directed by Scott Teems and produced by Laura D. Smith, the project was a reunion of sorts. Teems directed and Smith produced That Evening Sun, the critically acclaimed award-winning film that starred Hal Holbrook and featured his wife, Dixie Carter. And it was during that film, which would sadly be Dixie's last, that she suggested the concept for a documentary about Hal's many years portraying Mark Twain in his one-man show, Mark Twain Tonight! Dixie had the right idea.

This film is much more than the story of Holbrook performing as America's most beloved author. The feature-length documentary, shot in timeless black and white, takes us behind the scenes as Holbrook applies his stage make-up, performs a sound check, and reviews his notes before performing. We see Holbrook's files - a tangible record of his sixty years performing as Mark Twain -- headlines, photos, reviews, articles, advertisements, and newspaper clippings from across the country and around the world. Long after the show has ended, the make-up has been removed, and the audience has gone home to get into their pajamas, likely still contemplating what they witnessed on the stage, Holbrook is making notes about the evening, documenting the crowd's reaction, deciding what worked and what didn't. This aspect of the documentary invites us along as stagehands, fans, and journalists. We become part of the act, and it is intimate. But it is not all.

In this film, Holbrook, who will be ninety years old next year, accomplished something Mark Twain intended to do with his autobiography: He tells the truth. Yes, Mark Twain remains America's most acclaimed truth-teller, and Holbrook singes audiences with these truths in a way that would make Mark Twain proud - calling out Congress, lobbyists, hypocrites, warmongers, and religious zealots of every stripe who wield their gospel as a weapon. Seeing Mark Twain Tonight! is a tonic; the humor Holbrook uses to deliver the medicine makes us laugh, but the message itself can really sting. That is what audiences relish in Mark Twain Tonight! In Holbrook/Twain: An America Odyssey, we move beyond Mark Twain to Hal Holbrook as the subject, and the truth-telling is all Hal's. He uses no sandpaper or varnish on himself.

Holbrook's candid recollections of his years on the road, the toll it took on his children and relationships, and the universal worry of putting food on the table are intimate and honest. He does not attempt to justify the hardships his career created for loved ones - he simply knew no other way. Those who have read Harold: The Boy Who Became Mark Twain will recall Hal's challenging childhood and perhaps better understand why he didn't possess the rudiments of good parenting. Abandoned by his parents at age two and sent away to boarding school at age seven, Holbrook's concept of family was far from traditional. It wasn't until his marriage to Dixie Carter in 1984 that he would finally learn how a functioning family works, and his gratitude to Dixie for that life-changing gift endures. They were married 26 years when she died in 2010.

The film moves seamlessly between past and present -- clips of Holbrook on The Ed Sullivan Show, footage of recent performances, Hal's reminiscences of decades performing as Mark Twain, actors applauding his influence and commitment to the craft, scholars praising his fearless efforts to move beyond entertainment to enlightenment, and family members speaking their own truths about a father they missed. It is a shared memoir, and it is not sugar-coated.

This documentary will make its rounds of the film festivals before being publicly released. It is the one to watch for, and it will be the one to share.

Hal Holbrook manages to flourish -- not just survive -- through adversity. Scott Teems and Laura Smith recognized the importance of this unique story of one American legend portraying another, often at great personal sacrifice. Their film, which has the feel of that proverbial 'labor of love,' spans all human emotions and values. These two men - Samuel Langhorne Clemens (Mark Twain) and Harold Rowe Holbrook, Jr. - share some important similarities: working on the road away from family, losing their beloved wives after decades of happy marriages, and a fascination with truth and the haphazard applications of justice. Mark and Hal often speak with one voice, and it's not simply acting.

Mark Twain said, "It is curious -- curious that physical courage should be so common in the world, and moral courage so rare." Hal Holbrook has even performed this line as Mark Twain. This film reveals that rare glimpse of moral courage -- Hal Holbrook's moral courage -- to face and speak the truth no matter how painful.

Most of the live music I see these days is a very predictable experience. Usually a four- or five- piece band with a few guitars, a bass, drums, some microphones and lyrics about the sorrow of love lost. Seeing Yann Tiersen perform was a different experience entirely.

As the composer of the Amélie soundtrack, Tiersen knows a thing or two about emotive soundscapes. Watching someone perform music of the soundtrack genre is a peculiar experience. You're expecting to see live action play out before your eyes, yet it's actual human beings performing just feet in front of you. It's almost like getting a behind-the-scenes peek at the making of a film.

The most impressive part of this whole experience was the fact that Tiersen played at least seven different instruments throughout his performance. I admittedly lost count after the first several. He began with piano, then transitioned to a tiny piano (which I believe is called a celesta or celeste), twelve-string guitar, xylophone, violin, electric guitar, and accordion. It was quite the reminder of how much musical ability it actually takes to compose a film score.

The genres transitioned right along with the instrument changes. The crowd enjoyed music best suited for walking along the Seine, perhaps kissing a lover in a rainstorm, and driving up the Pacific Coast Highway in a retro convertible with the top down. It was quite an immersive set and made it fairly easy to get lost in a trance, forgetting you were watching a band perform the songs rather than experiencing them as part of the soundtrack to your own life.

Yann Tiersen's performance is a unique live music experience that will take you completely out of the present, only to put you right back in at the moments when you can truly appreciate his talent. If you'd like to experience a relaxing and entrancing musical performance, catch him on his current international tour going through the end of November.

I can't believe I'm actually going to say this. I many never work in this town again. But here goes.

As a professional songwriter for over 25 years, I was drawn to a piece that was put out on the wire by the Associated Press last week. Reporter, Mesfin Fekadu posed the question, "How Many Songwriters Does it Take to Produce a Hit?" He was told that these days it often takes as many as 8-10, or as John Legend aptly put it in the piece, "writing by committee." Or, as some of my colleagues call it, "Frankenwriting." Because it feels more like building a song than crafting one.

I've just finished writing a memoir, Confessions Of A Serial Songwriter, which addresses this new approach to writing a song as well as other recent interesting twists and turns in music industry culture. Mr. Fekadu's article just scratches the surface of the ways in which mainstream songwriters are being given a run for their money. Or should I say scrambling for what little money is left on the table.

The changes in the songwriting world coincided with the turn of the millennium when the music industry basically collapsed. File sharing services like Napster created a mindset in which you didn't have to pay for music. Record sales took a nose dive and everyone in the industry -- songwriters, artists, producers, managers, record company executives, publishers -- was trying to figure out how they were going to stay afloat. And the songwriters' piece of the pie was extremely vulnerable. Because...

At about the same time, technology was making it possible for a marketable song to be constructed inside a laptop. The value of the melody and lyric was diminished relative to the importance of a sonically tasty backing track. The programmer (now upgraded to the title of "producer") became the star of the show and the songwriter (now referred to by the more trivial term "topliner") was relegated to a supporting role. In fact, quite often a backing track was selected for a record before there was even 'a song' attached. The "producer" was in a position to dispatch his backing track to multiple topliners and choose which topline (lyric and melody) he liked best. In some cases a bevy of topliners would be summoned to a studio to audition their soundbites and ideas on top of the backing track at hand. At the end of the day, the producer would take 50 percent of the songwriting credit (and the subsequent revenue) and then decide which bits made the cut and how much of a percentage each bit was worth.

And there were other smooth operators who saw an opening here -- an opportunity to take further advantage of the instability of the songwriter. Soon, pieces of toplines were being replaced (or added to) by additional "writers" who were connected to someone who stood to profit by these replacements or additions, (perhaps a manager or publisher affiliated with the project). Record company executives started signing and managing their own small stable of writers. So who do you think they were going to go to first when they needed a song? I once had an A&R exec boast to me of adding a "Whoa Whoa" to a hook and helping himself to a small piece of the songwriting pie. I hate to say it but, seriously?

The writer who spoke up about these shenanigans might find they weren't being invited back to work in certain circles. Or they might be branded "difficult." Or "old school." And it would be a lot trickier getting their songs on the records that the operators were involved with.

Needless to say, these developments have wrought havoc in the lives of professional songwriters, both economically and creatively.

Financially, it's less and less possible for a songwriter to make a decent living. I know of a few who have contributed to hit songs that are still having trouble paying their rent. I can't help but wonder about the aspiring up and comer with big dreams and empty pockets, pockets that might still be pretty bare even after their dream comes true. Some reason that if they get their name on a few big hits it will open the door to bigger and better opportunities. They may be right about that but it remains to be seen whether the resulting royalties will allow them to make a down payment or put their kids through college.

And what about the actual experience of songwriting and songs themselves?

I've sat on both sides of the table. I've been in a room with another girl and her guitar and written a grammy nominated song with nothing and nobody interfering with our creative GPS. I have also participated in writing songs by committee. And while the combining of random catchy sections and pop-culture trending phrases with infectious beats may very well result in fun-loving hip hop or dance friendly songs, and may even yield a #1 on iTunes, (that to be honest I wish I was a part of sometimes), those songs are often short lived. Personally I would rather strive for a song that resonates for decades and connects with people in a profound or unique way.

I can't help but notice how strongly music lovers have responded to songs like Christina Aguilera's "Say Something" (three writers) and Rihanna's "Stay" (two writers) and well, Adele's whole album or Lorde's EP. Could a committee have written Linda Perry's "Beautiful" (one writer)?

In the meantime, and for the foreseeable future, decisions about which songs get recorded and promoted will remain more about commerce than ever before. Once upon a time not that long ago, if Clive Davis thought a song was a hit, Whitney cut it. And he didn't care who owned the publishing.

Last week I visited the Peggy Guggenheim Collection in Venice and found myself weeping in front of a painting by Paul Klee. Thirty years have elapsed since I was a summer intern in this museum, housed in a private palazzo on the Grand Canal, acquired by Peggy Guggenheim (1898-1979) in 1949. Peggy, Solomon's niece, eventually bequeathed the collection to the Solomon R. Guggenheim Foundation, stipulating that it remain in Venice and be open to the public. Her extraordinary collection includes works by Picasso, Braque, Pollock, Miro, Gorky, Brancusi, Klee, Kandinsky, Malevich, Chagall, Mondrian and many others.

My husband and I were celebrating our anniversary in Italy and I had a day in Venice to show him this magical place that swept me off my 20-year-old feet. We enter through the garden; it is so familiar, it hurts. With a weird kind of reverence that surprises me, I approach the sculptures by Giacometti, Ernst, Brancusi and others. I recall Franco, the local guard on duty that summer of 1984, who teased and flirted mercilessly with the female interns. The interns, many of us working towards Bachelors or Masters degrees in Art History, were privileged beyond our knowing then, as the current crop of interns probably is today. Now, at age 50 and returning for the first time since those heady summer days so long ago, I grasp the import, the blessing of having spent two months among some of the greatest artworks of the 20th century.

Before visiting the galleries, we head to the roof terrace, which hugs the edge of the Grand Canal. Presiding over the terrace as icon of this collection is The Angel of the City (1948) a Marino Marini bronze sculpture of a boy on horse, both outstretched towards the canal. I enjoy the sights, smells and sounds, which conjure memories buried for so many years. The caw of the seagulls, the chugging of the vaporettos motoring by, the serenading gondoliers and the jewel-like sunlight on the palazzi across the canal all echo in memory, while also creating fresh, 21st-century impressions.

In Proustian fashion, the sensations on the roof terrace elicit memories of my younger self. During that summer, the culmination of my junior year abroad studying in Paris and Florence, my independence burgeoned. I gained confidence in my language skills, made Italian friends and became familiar with the art and architecture. I could trill my Rs and use slang, and I became increasingly comfortable navigating the curved streets and dozens of bridges across the canals that define this city.

As interns, our responsibilities ranged from the mundane -- guarding galleries, checking bags, selling tickets and postcards -- to attending talks in the rooms under the galleries with then director Philip Rylands. Lectures about Cubism, Surrealism and Abstract Expressionism were rounded out by talks on the practicalities of art handling and conservation. We learned marvelous things about Peggy, her generous patronage of the arts and her absolute devotion to collecting work by her contemporaries, many whom became her friends, some her lovers. I would unconsciously take this knowledge with me into my career in the art world, working just out of graduate school at the Morgan Library & Museum and continuing today as an art dealer in New York City, where I run a contemporary art gallery.

I didn't anticipate it three decades ago, but now I know that something big happened to me that summer. Sixty intimate days in such close proximity to some of the greatest art of the last century will do that. The paintings, drawings and sculptures became a part of me, imprinted not only on my eye as familiar shapes and colors, but etched on my intellect and soul. I left Venice for 30 years, made a life, a family and a career. But the experience in that palazzo stayed with me, and it all came gushing forth that day.

We leave the blinding sunlight of the roof terrace and return inside. I stand in front of Picasso's On the Beach (1937), hanging on what I remember to be the same wall so many years ago. I am stunned that this painting, with its voluptuous bathers, strong horizon and intense blue sea, evokes exactly the sensation of wind and sea air that it did in 1984. I move to the room with the many works by Ernst and Magritte. How many hours did I spend as guard in this gallery with the mystery of Magritte's Empire of Light (1953-54) washing over me? Did it depict night or day, or both, with its nocturnal street scene capped by a sunny, cloud-filled sky? Is it sad, mystical? I still wonder. I leave the gallery that was Peggy's bedroom, still replete with her silver headboard by Calder, past an untitled oil (ca. 1916) on canvas by Malevich, rendered with such consummate harmony of color and form as to make the heart sing, and am suddenly overwhelmed in front of Klee's Portrait of Frau P. in the South (1924).

This small work on paper, in rosy orange hues, shows a young woman unsmiling, but not sad, perhaps a bit forlorn. She is inquisitive, serious and pensive. The red heart drawn somewhat naively on her chest always caught me off guard when I would walk by this painting. Back then she reminded me of me, a girl who wore her heart on her sleeve and had a hard time containing emotions. And suddenly, I find myself crying in front of her. I'm overcome, but I don't know why. It is not sadness, but the strongest and strangest sense of nostalgia I have ever known, as if I am with my 20-year-old self. I feel she is there beside me because pieces of my heart and soul from that summer have returned and are blazing within.

On the way out I share with the adorable interns at the ticket counter that I was an intern so many years ago. I am trying hard not to sound like a crazy, middle-aged lady, forewarning the youngsters to enjoy every moment because it is fleeting. But it is not fleeting, as I discover on that beautiful day in Venice. The moments will stay with them. Have a great summer, I say to the girls. And don't wait 30 years to return.

Photo Credits:
1) © Peggy Guggenheim Collection, Venice. Ph. AndreaSarti/CAST1466
2) © Peggy Guggenheim Collection, Venice. Ph. AndreaSarti/CAST1466
3) Kazimir Malevich
Untitled, ca. 1916
Oil on canvas, 53 x 53 cm
The Solomon R. Guggenheim Foundation,
Peggy Guggenheim Collection, Venice
Acquisition confirmed in 2009 by agreement with the Heirs of Kazimir Malevich
76.2553 PG 42
4) Paul Klee
Portrait of Frau P. in the South (Bildnis der Frau P. im Süden), 1924
Watercolor and oil transfer drawing on paper, mounted on
gouache-painted board, 42.5 x 31 cm, including mount
Peggy Guggenheim Collection, Venice

My training in acting has been intense. I have a Post graduate degree from the Webber Duuglass Academy which was in London. It is the same school Ben Kinglsey, Minnie Driver and Julia Armond went to, I attended Penn State and was studying Acting while Keegan-Michael Key and Ty Burrel were there and I went to New World School of the Arts, whose graduates are all over Broadway. My name is Susie K Taylor and just to be clear...you have never heard of me.

I have trained for many many years to learn the skill of acting, to learn what it means to fully inhabit another a ROLE. How they talk, how they walk, what they think, how they feel. What is always fascinating to me is that most of the my personal human condition can be manipulated to allow for this transformation. I can be altered and changed and eventually, ideally, where the role starts and I stop begins to blur.

This can be dangerous.

As I said, I am not famous, so I can't say all actors have this experience, maybe because I have this experience I am not famous? Ahh.. the insecure mind of an actor, another hazard.

But the truth is, I will find myself starting to say my characters lines inside a normal conversation with my family. I will start to actually use my characters words to describe things in my day and I will even begin to see thing through their eyes and not my own.

This is called getting into character. For an actor this is a total high. You are possessed in a way and willing to be so. I guess it is a really vamped up way of how when you hang out with someone for any extended amount of time you start to take on their mannerisms. That is what acting can be like. But there is a danger to acting that no one really admits.

Well, I saw one interview about it with Sally Field and a few others talking about going in to character and what you have to open up as far as wounds and memories you paid a therapist a lot of money to get over.

You have to open those feelings back up, dive back into them and remember exactly how it felt to feel that way. This is called AS IF. You are acting in your scene AS IF it was what actually happened or could have very easily happen to you. So you have to pull on your own experiences and that is where things get messy. Your mind at some point is being played with. The ability for an actor to go through feelings and emotions on a dime is a wonderful skill but to close those feeling down again, turn the emotional journey switchboard off when the play ends. That is the real talent.

There was a technique I learned when I was studying acting in camp Bucks Rock. I was 13 and had just finished playing the role of the Imaginary Invalid. After the play closed, I found myself in the camp's infirmary every two days. The acting coach heard about it and took me into the woods and did this "grounding out" technique with me. At first it felt like a joke. I stood there and dropped my head to my feet and pounded my feet into the ground and evetually I released this ROLE, this energy, this character. It was weird, I stood up and I felt totally fine.

That is when I knew I was a method actor. I delved into the roles I played with vengeance and I stayed there even when I would leave rehearsal. I would walk though the city with them on me, eat dinner as they would and slowly we were intertwined and then the play would end and I would be left. The role would be left. Where exactly?

I honestly have to say it goes into my psyche and sets up shop like a habit until you ask or rather demand for it to leave, You ever wonder about the lives of actors and why they can be so volatile or even deadly? I would venture to say it has to do with the high-risk aspect of messing around with their psyche...in my experience acting is like race car driving...skillful, intense and exciting and in the end...you hope you get out of it without too much collateral damage.

By Helen Anne Travis

Every Monday we sit down with some of our favorite Instagrammers to chat about the art and business of mobile photography. We pick their brains on their editing process, their favorite apps, and how Instagram has changed their approach to photography. See all our Best of Instagram interviews »

Over the past year we've picked up some great tips from true Instagram masters. Rather than keep all their words of wisdom to ourselves, we compiled some of their best advice below. Read on to learn how to get more followers on Instagram from 16 photographers with a combined following of nearly two million fans.

Want to be featured on our Best of Instagram series? Follow Global Yodel on Instagram and tag your best local shots with #GlobalYodel!

"Shoot for yourself."

This may seem counter-intuitive, but if you want more followers on Instagram, you need to quit worrying about how many people are following you.

Instead, focus on developing your voice. Figure out what you like to shoot, the subjects you like to work with, and what editing process really captures your vision. The photographers we interviewed said once they started to shoot for themselves the likes and followers poured in.

1) "Don't aspire to be an 'Instagram photographer'. Shoot for yourself; try to disregard 'likes' and whatever's popular. Experiment. Get out of your comfort zone. Document your life in a different way. Oh, and get closer to your subject!" - @ikedeani, 602K followers

2) "Don't worry about your follower count or how many likes you get. Shoot what you want, share what you want, and let your feed represent you and not someone you're trying to be. I love shooting portraits of my friends, and when I look back through my feed it's the people I see that give me the best memories." - @laurenlemon, 230K followers

3) "There is the temptation to take the photos that you know other people will 'like'. I decided to take the photos I want to take, regardless of how many likes I get. I seem to get more comments and feedback when I do that anyway." - @cschoonover, 32K followers

"Slow down."

It may look effortless, but our Instagrammers confessed it takes time to capture that perfect walking-down-a-deserted-road-into-the-sunset shot. Sometimes they take as many as 20 or 30 pictures of the same subject before they get the perfect capture. Give your photos time to develop (pun intended).

4) "Learn how to use your camera to the best of its capabilities, and then spend your time experiencing the world around you as you move through it. Observation is the most important tool a photographer has." - @danrubin, 761k followers

5) "Be patient. The gratification is not instant. You have to slow down and take your time. In doing so, you may find there is a lot more to offer in a composition than what originally caught your eye." @rubenhughes, 46K followers

6) "Take a stroll! If I need to be somewhere, I'll try and give myself the time to reach my destination by foot. I find that walking gives a photographer the time to really soak up their surroundings and capture moments they might otherwise miss." - @megaguire, 31K followers

"Do something different."

Stop posting photos of your feet in the sand, photos of you jumping in front of famous sites, and please, enough with the duck face.

7) "It's easy to follow trends and hack what 'works' but we have enough of those accounts. Do something different. (And quit jumping.)" - @reallykindofamazing, 58k followers

8) "Experiment when shooting. Look for different angles. Get down low to the ground, climb on top of something or hold your camera over your head. If you take a shot, find another angle to shoot the same scene. The more you shoot, the more you will learn what you like and develop your own style." - @mrsgrubby, 132K followers

9) "Have a 'thing', something that consistently shows through every photo. You want people to look at a grid of your pictures and see something that unifies them. They are more likely to follow you if they can clearly see what they are signing up for." - @jonpauldouglass, 42K followers

"Learn from the best"

Let your feed guide you. What is it about the photographers you admire that makes their work so captivating? Is it the way they light their shots? Their perspective? The captions they write? For extra credit, get off Instagram and look at the work of commercial and fashion photographers. Try to understand exactly what you like about their shots and see if you can apply some of those techniques to your own work. You can be inspired by others but still create something entirely new.

10) "Instagram was my photography school. Being exposed to so many incredibly talented artists, thinkers and adventurers inspired me in ways I had never dreamed of. I had so many teachers who, unknown to them, completely changed my life. From composition to editing and storytelling, through Instagram I learned everything I know." - @simonebirch, 12K followers

11) "Follow people whose feeds you would like to emulate. The more good photos you see in your feed, the quicker you can develop an eye for it. Also, don't be discouraged or overexcited about likes. Certain types of photos get more likes than others, regardless of the quality. Focus on taking photos that you like, learn from the best, and don't be afraid to try something new!" - @coryacrawford, 49K followers

12) "Follow artists you like and ask them questions. If you are genuine, you may find a few photographers who don't mind answering questions about their art and process." - @dvl, 132k followers

13) "Be mad nice with the likes." - @AlanaPaterson 6k followers

"It's like any other photography"

Sure, advancements in technology have made capturing, editing and sharing photos a snap, (yep, another pun) but that doesn't mean you can take shortcuts. If you want more followers on Instagram you have to treat your work like the art form it is.

14) "Like any other photography lighting is really important. Pay attention to lighting and composition just like you would with any other camera." - @cannellevanille, 105K followers

15) "Using a grid overlay on your camera app can help for lining up or dividing your frame as you shoot." - @safesolvent, 37K followers

16) "Take a lot of photos. You can only get better with understanding your weak points in photography." - @jcb_jhnsn, 2K followers

Your turn. What are your tips for getting more followers on Instagram? Share your thoughts below!

For daily travel inspiration be sure to follow Global Yodel on Facebook and Instagram. Guaranteed to awaken your travel bug!

Calvin Lemuel Hoole, "Dr. Alfred Lane Patton", 1860, oil on panel, 24 x 18 inches.

Shortly after moving from Mississippi to St. Louis in 1856, Dr. Alfred Lane Patton (1819-1886) commissioned Calvin Lemuel Hoole, a self-taught painter in Missouri, to paint the history of the Lane, Thomas, Hampton, and Patton families. Over the next five years, Hoole painted at least a dozen works depicting what was then known of the family characters that had helped shape the American South.

As an itinerant painter, Calvin Hoole's primary source of income was portrait painting, and many families in Missouri's backwater communities were lucky to have such an accomplished and affordable artist to record the appearance of loved ones. Hoole honed his skills with constant drawing from nature, and by paying careful attention to the nuances of human gesture in his sitters. Here the kindness and intellectual acumen of Dr. Patton is expressed in the subtle sparkle of his eyes and the delicacy of his features.

Calvin Lemuel Hoole, "The Dr. Alfred Patton Family Arrives in Rocheport in 1857", 1859, oil on canvas, 11 x 19 inches.

Leaving Raymond, Mississippi, for Rocheport, Missouri, in 1856, Dr. Patton hoped to take advantage of the Western boomtown's growing wealth, and thrived as its physician and as a civic leader. Calvin Hoole painted the southern family stepping bravely into their new life.

Calvin Lemuel Hoole, Ambrotype

Calvin Lemuel Hoole, "The Foot-sore Painter" (1811-1863), was active in Missouri from 1833 until his death from wounds sustained at the Battle of Pea Ridge. A friend of Missouri painters Carl Wimar and George Caleb Bingham, Hoole emulated their styles but brought his own vision to bear upon his favorite subjects of frontier adventure and Christian temperance.

Calvin Hoole rarely left the state of Missouri. He often walked barefoot, and his feet were said to be so calloused that his soles were as thick as boot leather. He saved his shoes for meetings with his clients, where he tried his best to cover his backwoods manners with a veneer of society polish. George Caleb Bingham was said to be a close friend of his, and Hoole clearly benefited from this association. Bingham's artistic education was much broader, and included years spent in European ateliers. Hoole's compositions owe a debt to Bingham, and to the etchings and drawings that he saw in his mentor's collection.

Brushes of Calvin Lemuel Hoole, 1850s, 8 1/2 and 9 1/2 inches.

Calvin Lemuel Hoole, "Major Samuel Lane at South River, Maryland, 1680", 1857, oil on canvas, 19 1/4 x 16 1/2 inches.

Samuel Lane (1628-1681) was the founder in America of Dr. Patton's mother's line. Appointed a Major in the local militia, Lane was depicted by Hoole in a skirmish against the Seneca. Hoole then chose to depict an incident in the life of Samuel's son, Dutton Lane (1671-1726), the Deputy Surveyor of Baltimore County. While surveying the property of John Howard, the members of his party were shocked when Howard killed a rattlesnake, cut out its heart, and ate it. Hoole skillfully captures the wide variety of expressions on his subjects' faces, and fills the painting with the early morning light of this newly settled territory.

Calvin Lemuel Hoole, "Deputy Surveyor Dutton Lane at John Howard's Stake, Baltimore County, 1700," 1858, oil on canvas, 14 x 20 inches.

Calvin Lemuel Hoole, "The Battle of Kings Mountain: Colonel Andrew Hampton on the Heights", 1858, oil on canvas, 28 x 38 1/2 inches.

Calvin Hoole excelled at the depiction of groups of people in action. His figures move naturally, devoid of the stiffness of many self-taught painters. His "Battle of Kings Mountain" writhes with the violence of war, with the thrust of the American patriots and the wavering of the British lines carried in the underlying abstract composition. The crowd in "Tidence Lane Preaching" is imbued with an electric charge, their religious fervor expressed in the shifting colors and varied gestures of the faithful. Of particular interest is Hoole's sympathetic depiction of African slaves, an empathy borne of a life of hard work and few comforts, and a pacifist, tolerant view of human kind.

Calvin Lemuel Hoole, "Tidence Lane Preaching at Buffalo Ridge, Tennessee, in 1780", 1859, oil on panel, 24 x 30 inches.

Calvin Lemuel Hoole, "The Thomas Brothers Tortured by the English in 1781", 1857, oil on panel. 19 x 24 inches.

Dr. Alfred Lane Patton and his wife Priscilla Thomas also commissioned Hoole to paint the Revolutionary War story of Samuel Thomas and his brother in the infamous Fort 96. In the stockade they were starved and beaten, and, with their mother present, hung by their necks in an attempt to coerce them into confessing the whereabouts of their rebel father. All the while the stalwart pioneer woman looked on, encouraging her sons, "Don't you weaken, Boys!"

Calvin Lemuel Hoole, "Daniel Thomas Pioneers Hinds County, Mississippi, in 1830", 1859, oil on canvas, 20 x 16 inches.

Daniel Thomas and his wife are depicted homesteading with their children, including Priscilla, who will grow up to be Calvin Hoole's main patron. Other men are engaged in the construction of a log hut, the autumnal trees towering above them. Hoole captures a peaceful moment in the family's difficult move from Louisiana to Mississippi, artfully employing tonal shifts to impart a sense of the awesome Southern landscape and the isolation of these early settlers.

Calvin Lemuel Hoole, "Swallow Bluff", 1856, oil on panel, 28 x 24 inches

The serene atmosphere of "Swallow Bluff" depicts the arrival of newlyweds Richard T. Patton (1794-1860) and Anna Lane to their Tennessee homestead at Swallow Bluff on the Tennessee River. Calvin Hoole's indebtedness to George Caleb Bingham is made clear in this work. The Bingham paintings of Missouri river men, such as "Fur Traders on the Missouri," 1845, are imbued with the same light and sense of calm. Unlike his friend Bingham, Hoole hated river travel, and had an intense fear of drowning. The 'Foot-sore Painter' always preferred his feet planted firmly on solid ground.

These works, and many others, are presented in The Paternal Suit: Heirlooms from the F. Scott Hess Family Foundation, on view at the Long Beach Museum of Art from July 10 through October 5, 2014. The exhibition first toured the South, originating at the Halsey Institute of Contemporary Art in Charleston, SC.

Amidst the incoming critical salvos aimed at the newly opened -- if long-delayed -- 9/11 Memorial Museum in downtown Manhattan (and still no word from most of those writers, whose outlets accord them final say...), there remain invisible and under-known architectural cast members and details that merit attention.

Regardless of one's view of the overall enterprise as a prospective measure of a society in ponderous retreat, the assignment has been almost perfectly realized. If it contributes to a growing national orgy of sustained mourning and co-option of others' loss -- looking back in personal terms as "heroes" one and all, at the expense of forward-looking resolve -- the fault lies with the initial commission and not the design team assembled to realize it.

Firstly are those designers whose collective collaborations with the curatorial team led by American Studies scholar, Jan Ramirez, have been eclipsed by the Oslo/New York firm of Snøhetta, through no fault of its own.

Founding partner, Craig Dyker, always described the oblique terrestrial glass and stainless steel foyer as a threshold between the living city and darkened silence of reflection below. A River Styx as sun-filled top hat.

Such distorted credit began during the protracted decision-making project launched by Mayor Giuliani and brought to fruition by the Bloomberg team, propelled in part as they were by his enormous personal contributions towards its construction. Starting with the Libeskind master plan and its heavy dollop of capital "F" Freedom, there followed a demand for bonafide star architects along with an open memorial competition that together deflected disapproval and assured the approbation of a charitable elite.

With sights on the White House, at least two New York politicians realized there was strategic capital to be gained from such tactics and the lead architects became their ingratiating brand.

The opportunity today is to call attention to those who truly conceived the masterful subterranean realm in seamless synthesis with the exhibit's driving narrative. A downward ramp fades into blackness leading to a floating balcony overlooking the surviving "bathtub" slurry wall.

After this pause of immensity, it then descends onwards to the intimate galleries set beneath the two memorial fountains above designed by competition winner, Michael Arad, and thus on the Trade Tower footprints themselves.

This massive yet propulsive progression is the work of the largely unsung team of Davis, Brody and Bond. Following the death of Max Bond's initial leadership, architects Steve Davis, Carl Krebs, and Mark Wagner were the troika responsible.

Their work, as the essential architectural achievement of the overall commission, succeeds as seamless complement to the exhibitions themselves: The unfolding and object-filled historical events of the day and its aftermath designed for the North Tower footprint by Layman Design (Dave Layman, principal);

and the memorial zone beneath the South Tower by THINC Design (Tom Hennes, principal). Distinct from the narrative storytelling of events, this second zone offers detailed and illustrated biographies of each victim in arguably excessive, nearly voyeuristic, extension of the more elegant abstraction of the bronze panel names arrayed aboveground at the lips of the memorial waterfalls. Yet again the condign execution of a politically driven mandate.

These professionals merit the spotlight awareness of fuller credit shining distinctly from the obscuring glare of the initial Snøhetta marquis.

* * * * * *

Another invisible architectural detail -- in this case structural rather than personal -- that has been overlooked by the multi-billion dollar 13-year redevelopment in all its interconnected complexity is the fact that one minute section of what defined the Seven Tower, 13,400,000 square feet of the original WTC complex still stands. It is an anonymous newsstand with no plaque or notice, hidden in plain sight and recalled only by a diminishing few who collected their daily papers before crossing the Center's threshold.

One part of the 16-acre superblock whole was an underground shopping concourse that simultaneously served as weather-protected connective tissue between the various structures and to two mass transit systems: The NYC subway and the PATH service to New Jersey. It was just one piece of the overall design puzzle by Minoru Yamasaki along with an associate team from Emory Roth & Sons, as engineered by the firm of Worthington, Skilling, Helle & Jackson.

At the south end of the E Train subway terminus, still bearing the World Trade Center name as renovated with the ceramic wall mosaics collectively entitled Oculus by Andrew Ginzel & Kristin Jones, this last built relic functions daily beneath the original sign "newsstand & novelties" with what used to start with WTC and is now beguilingly covered merely with black masking tape which begs for removal as what might be the easiest act of historic preservation imaginable on the globe today.

Thus it stands as the single testament to all that stood before. The typeface font seems to be the oddly labeled Akzienz Grotesk BQ Medium by the old German type foundry of H. Berthold. Yet sadly no one seems to know who was responsible for the graphic program of the original concourse or for that matter the Trade Center as a whole. The shopping mall operator both before the 9/11 attacks and now set to reopen it is Westfield Group, which ignored several attempts for comment, while all other queries came up short, including the AIGA and Milton Glaser (who famously designed as the graphic gesamtkunstwerk, the North Tower's crowning Windows on the World suite of restaurants.) Likewise, Chermayeff & Geismar; none knew. Even the Memorial Museum curators cannot say despite the fact that the handiwork of this anonymous master enlivens many of the preserved exhibit artifacts and even in some ingenuous cases are used anew as defining guideposts that echo their original design assignment.

When the team responsible emerges they will get the credit thus far denied, meanwhile the mystery itself underscores how far too often the many professionals that make up the collaborative whole of any building are, like the masons of Europe's great cathedrals, invisible to history even when recorded with limitless resources.

"...newsstand & novelties" can also conjure past examples where some original or otherwise pre-existing architectural fabric blends in mute service to subsequent renewal or expansion. Unlike the spoglia of past achievement when the parts are stripped and reused like Roman columns removed and repurposed or, unlike the Pantheon of the Great Mosque of Cordoba where an edifice is left intact but assigned a new identity, these are instances when the existing structure is instead subsumed.

One local example is The Medieval Hall of Calvert Vaux's first iteration of New York's Metropolitan Museum (best known for the location of the annual Neapolitan Christmas tree) where the lofty room melds into both its Beaux-Arts and later Modernist extensions enveloping it.

Likewise, the accessible and still functioning crypt of St. Peter's Basilica remains from its 4th-century precedent,

while along Bloomingdale's block-long East 60th Street frontage the original store's 19th-century face blends seamlessly, yet is discernible with the present-day elevation. It quietly does its job.

Paradoxically, such silent preservation is perhaps the most vital as a result of its uninterrupted structural integrity.

This anonymous little store will endure as the truest testament of what was there and all that was lost. It stands as the purest expression of memory possible: A memory encased in continuing function at the service of architecture and its modern demands.

There was only moderate hollerin' from the audience at the Monday night preview of Holler If Ya Hear Me, the Tupac Shakur jukebox musical at the drastically altered Palace. We could hear them, yes, and loudly; but we couldn't make out much of what they were singing or saying.

Tupac, the influential and best-selling rapper, was gunned down on a Las Vegas street in 1996 at the age of twenty-five. The book of the new musical--by Todd Kreidler, an artistic associate of the late August Wilson--is fictional, although it appears to attempt to recreate Tupac's world. Wilson was interested in the early stages of the project, and we can only guess that things would have turned out mighty differently with the Pulitzer-winner at the typewriter.

The show starts auspiciously, with a fellow in an orange jumpsuit (Saul Williams) descending from the flies in a box-like jail cell, with nothing but a toilet. He immediately hollers the so-called "n" word. (In a society where politicians are pilloried, corporate executives are cashiered, and billionaire sports team owners are banned for life for the like, it is worth noting that they use the infamously derogatory term dozens of times at the Palace. This in a show for which the author and the lead producer are white men.) Our hero then returns to his block--"My Block" serves as the opening number and theme song--and deals with the usual street battles.

Remember that other Broadway musical about an inner city gang whose turf is being invaded by outsiders? The one in which the "good" gang members arrange a street rumble, trying to enlist their former captain to join them even though he wants nothing to do with it and considers the whole thing kid stuff, Daddy-O? And in which said former captain ends up, at the final curtain, senselessly slayed in a pool of stage blood? The purveyors of this new entertainment clearly do remember that musical; Holler is West Side Story without the Shakespeare, and without the romantic subplot. The new show even seems to recycle left-over street-scenery from the West Side revival that recently played the Palace. The creators of Holler also clearly channel Lin-Manuel Miranda's In the Heights, with none of the heights.

If the evening--under the direction of Kenny Leon, a recent Tony-winner for A Raisin in the Sun--doesn't offer much of a compelling dramatic nature, it does bring us a handful of intriguing performers. The top-billed Mr. Williams is more of a poet and lecturer than a singer, but he manages to pull off the role of the ex-con moving back to the streets. Christopher Jackson (who created the role of Benny in Into the Heights) and Ben Thompson (a replacement Trunchbull in Matilda) give ingratiating acting and singing performances, as the brother and the friend of the boy whose murder sets off the turf battle.

Tonya Pinkins (of Caroline, or Change) gives a customarily strong performance in the smallish role of the mother of the killed boy, while Saycon Sengbloh (of Fela) does well as the girl John left behind when he went to prison. Also on hand--as a half-crazed street preacher and John's father--is John Earl Jelks, a veteran of Wilson's Radio Golf and Gem of the Ocean.

Twenty songs are included; while Tupac is billed as sole lyricist on the title page, the small-print credits list six-to-eight writers per song. (One of them, "Me Against the World," is credited to ten--with the list headed by Burt Bacharach and Hal David, who I suppose were never in a room with the other eight. Must be a hip hop thing.) Some of these songs--particularly in the second act--turn out to be effective, with a couple that are actually melodically pretty. Mostly, though, they are loud, amplified beyond comprehension, and similar. The overall production is big but without distinction other than in the spectacular work of lighting designer Mike Baldassari.

The Palace itself has been reconfigured to include something akin to stadium seating. Which is to say, the twenty-seven-row orchestra has been displaced by a mere nine rows on risers reaching from the covered-over orchestra pit to the mezzanine rail. (Most of the orchestra section remains in place underneath, so as you enter you file past many hundred forlornly empty seats.) The house then continues upward with the existing mezzanine and second balcony. Thus, six hundred formerly "good seats" have been deconsecrated, while the upper balcony--which has been closed off altogether, as unsellable, for some recent tenants--is necessarily in use. And yes, it's an awfully long hike up there.

Thus we have a noble attempt at shaking up the traditional Broadway theatre, offering a different sort of entertainment for a different sort of audience. This is precisely what Savion Glover and George C. Wolfe attempted in 1996 with their groundbreaking Bring in 'da Noise, Bring in 'da Funk. Holler If Ya Hear Me doesn't, alas, offer nearly half as much worth hearing.

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Holler If Ya Hear Me, with book by Todd Kreidler and lyrics by Tupac Shakur, opened June 19, 2014 at the Palace Theatre

This year, Art Basel's Unlimited sector presents 78 large-scale artworks from five generations of artists. Curated by Gianni Jetzer, the show features works by artists such as Haegue Yang, Julio Le Parc, Sterling Ruby, John Bock, Matias Faldbakken, Sam Falls, Laure Prouvost, Carsten Nicolai, Edith Dekyndt, Ann Veronica Janssens, Troika, and Pascale Marthine Tayou. This video provides you with a walk-through of the exhibition.

Art Basel's Unlimited sector was launched in 2000, as a platform for artworks that can't be displayed within the limitations of an art fair booth, such as large-scale installations, sculptures, video installations, wall paitings, photographic series and performance art. This year's highlights include Carl André's floor work Steel Peneplain (1982), Hanne Darboven's Kinder Dieser Welt / Children of the World, and Giuseppe Penone's Matrice di linfa (2008).

Ann Veronica Janssens: RR Lyrae, 2014.

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

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"Shoot for yourself."

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"It's like any other photography"

The Footsore Painter From Missouri, Calvin Lemuel Hoole

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Aisle View: Holler and (Hip) Hop

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