Entries from March 2007
TIME IS MORE THAN MONEY
Honking motorists, barking shiatsus, “Fergalicious” ring tones and those people in the coffee shop who just won’t shut up while you’re trying to read the paper melodiously make up the soundtrack to daily life in the city.
Our world is a factory of sounds; a constant mosquito buzzing in your ear, making one question if silence really exists.
Unfortunately, once you do find that moment of blissful quiet in this corporate jungle, who’s got the time to enjoy it?
Ask any suit and they’ll tell you time is money, but the concept doesn’t apply so easily to art and its creators.
The Katherine E. Nash Gallery’s new exhibit, “Quiet Time/Love’s Labour”, uses visual symbols of time to investigate what can be produced when one stops counting in hours, minutes and seconds.
The exhibit features a diverse collection of 19 local and international artists whose work focuses more on process than product.
A first walk around the gallery and one could easily underestimate the quality of the work due to its supposed simplicity. Upon further inspection, tiny stitching, precise arrangement and unimaginable patience plead for your appreciation.
An astonishing example of these artists’ indifference to time is Robin McCauley’s “Hair Table.” Only a small nightstand, it has vigilantly been threaded with individual horse-hairs. The result is what appears to be a balding tabletop.
A bit creepy, yes, but striking in its ability to provoke the viewer to think more in depth about the production of art.
McCauley says she uses her work to “retreat from life for awhile”, using the repetition and rhythm as a sort of meditation beyond time.
Coincidentally, the silk panels of Masako Takahashi are embroidered with hair as well— human hair.
Red, black and brown, the hair appears to be thread, sewn with majestic precision. Together the hairs create intricate patterns that look like the text of some ancient language yet to be translated.
For most people, quiet time is when we shut off our logistical brains, letting our minds wonder about anything other than work. For an artist, these are the moments when they punch-in.
Glancing around the gallery, it’s hard not to ask questions, like why the hell Eleni Theofilaktou would spend so much time crocheting oversized wool webs, or what drives Pat Hickman to glue countless nails between hog intestines?
The answer seems to lie in the lack thereof.
According to University Art Professor Diane Katsiaficas, the exhibition’s coordinator and curator, you can’t follow the work logically.
The pieces ask questions, but do not provide the answers.
Pieces like “Art Means to Dream” by Spiridoula Politi, a sheet scattered with ink, stitching, dolls and an intoxicatingly beautiful blue puddle, pull you into the work and out of conventional time.
“This art is a meditative consideration of the visual metaphors of time,” she said.
With surprises in every corner, including a fully functioning mobile by Daniel Koplin and the familiar faces on Cate Whittemore’s voo-doo dolls, one must pay strict attention to detail.
Next to the wall of crimson velvet skeletons by Maro Michalakakos “The Human Voice”, lies a smaller complimentary piece, consisting of a small broken metronome with clay arms attached at the sides.
A play on what makes our bodies tick, the small instrument with limbs is a beautiful parallel to how mundane life can become when keeping time is priority.
Flicking the metronome, you can almost hear the quiet click speak— the beat of time and of responsibilities connected to each tick tock of the clock.
Tick…deadlines…tick… laundry…tick…dinner…tick…
Because the art in “Quiet Time/Love’s Labour” is so dependent on the artist’s time investment during production, the only way for the viewer to truly appreciate its beauty is to concurrently invest time in understanding the show.
So skip class, leave work early, take a deep breath and turn off your headphones. A challenge indeed, but it’s time to enjoy the quiet.
Show open Feb 20-March 22.
West Bank. Regis Center for Art
Tues to Sat 11-7pm
Free.
Categories: Everything I write
Man or bird? Crazy in love? Or just plain mad? “The Swan” leaves the audience with questions to which there are no specific answers.
Brilliantly confusing and odd, the Jungle Theater’s “The Swan” is a twisted fairytale, redefining the meaning of true love with an almost pathetic reality and throwing the traditional “happily ever after” up in the air.
Dora, a small-town woman who seems doomed to an uneventful love life and a job she hates. After several terrible relationships, Dora settles on Kevin, the stable, yet married milkman. Their relationship and Dora’s dull daily routine are thrown out of order when a swan crashes through her kitchen window. Playing checkers and wearing jeans, the swan begins to resemble a man more than a bird, and for Dora, a lover more than a friend.
Dora begins to realize that not only is she physically living in desolate nothingness, her emotions have been strictly limited as well. The swan literally opens the window to new opportunities, while Kevin, a (intentionally) lame character, tries hard to keep her from straying too far. Dora’s frail heart is put in the middle of a tug-o-war, between what is easy and what is real.
“The Swan” blurs reality with dreamy aspirations, questioning true love, mental stability and the thin line that lies between.
Portraying a man-bird is quite the job, but Nathan Keepers‘s agile limbs and facial expressions had me convinced he was born in a nest. His physical presence was a visible representation of the emotional transition his character made from animal, to child to man. The squawking was unusually tolerable and his leaping around the perfectly detailed set never ceased to make me giggle— maybe that was because he was naked. But in all honesty, a full-bodied white leotard or feather suit wouldn’t have made for a convincing alternative.
Dora’s character, played by Jennifer Blagen, began a bit bland but became incredibly more dense as the show went on, seemingly so. Her attractive attributes become overshadowed by hints of mental illness and it became more obvious as to why the men in her life had continually disappeared.
Being set in a small house on a country road, I didn’t expect an impressive sound and light display, but I was pleasantly surprised at how secluded and at home I felt; the crickets and the roaring truck down the road outside, complete with shadows from the passing headlights.
Watching the relationship grow between Dora and the swan, it’s apparent both are in dire need of love, genuine and unconditional; a kind of love both had previously been denied. The play is perfectly summed up when Dora quotes one of her former husbands who asked, “what is love and why do we do it?” By example of her and the swan we learn there is no perfect definition. Life is about finding the love that will set you free.
Categories: Everything I write
Man, I love these kids, and if you don’t yet, you will. Soon. (And unfortunately so will all the music-illiterate, Nickleback loving jerks who thrive off the dangerous sedative most commonly known as “pop music.”)
Playing to the sold out Varsity Theater on Tuesday, The Cold War Kids put on a show comparable to extended recess in the fourth grade. The combination of Nathan Willet’s vocals, a well-balanced sound and their too cool for school stage appearance were just enough to give me a good music high and bragging rights.
Delta Summit opened the show, unfortunately replacing the Tokyo Police Club, who were stuck in a snow storm somewhere in Canada. Delta’s sound is western garage rock, straight up twangy with a snitch of blues. Lacking in uniqueness, they both looked and sounded as if the boys next door had started a band. Don’t get me wrong— not bad to say the least, but a band that merely would’ve been perfect as the opener’s opener.
The lead vocals, a flannel-wearing version of Fez from That 70’s show, had a raspy, and notably sexy shout that seemed grungier than the band’s collective sound. Their set had afew good piano moments and the trash can lid as percussion was a dirty treat. By the end of their set, both the band and the crowd had warmed up a bit more and they began sounding like the perfect soundtrack for a truck commercial.
Delta’s shining moment occurred when the Cold War Kids joined them on stage for a heartfelt number about this corrupt world. The harmonica made an appearance as the CWKs played sleigh bells and sang backup harmonies. A crowd pleaser no doubt that actually got people off their winter butts and inspired some head bobbin’ and clappin’.
When the CWKs finally hit the stage, the crowd had filled in, elbow to Strongbow. Willet sat at the piano and began by singing “Sometimes I feel like a motherless child,” which segwayed into “We used to vacation,” a favorite off The Kid’s first grown-up album “Robbers and Cowards.”
Throughout the show, Matt Maust and Jonnie Russel tangoed across the stage with their bass and guitar as dance partners, both wearing white T’s and black skinnys. Maust was a bit of a show stealer, starring out into the audience with utmost confidence and chewing gum like nobody’s business.
Mid-set, the Delta Summit boys were called back to join in on “St. John”. Everybody on stage was making as much noise as possible, hitting wine bottles with sticks, pounding on the trash lid, jumping and screaming the lyrics— it was “STOMP” indie-rock style. Willet conducted the audience during the chorus while the rest of the dudes held a dance party. Hot and incredibly entertaining, the two bands are obviously BFFs.
Their big hit, “Hang me up to dry,” came 2nd to last, but it was filled with energy nonetheless. Wishing they would’ve quit on a high note, it was a bit of a drag when they ended with “Quiet Please”, a slow and mildly pretty version of the song that never ends.
Thankfully, the encore revived the mood, and Willet screamed out whatever he had left with a crackly screech.
A killer show worth finishing your vegetables for, the CWKs played hard. I would’ve expected the crowd to rock harder in return, but maybe they were disappointed about the Tokyo no-shows. Or maybe they just weren’t pounding drinks for the sake of their Wednesday morning.
Categories: Everything I write
“The Real World” France, circa 1770.
By: Amber Schadewald
If you are a fan of reality TV, specifically “The Simple Life” then “Marie Antoinette” is going to blow your mind.
Equally spoiled and glamorous, the 18th century Queen of France is a historic version of America’s favorite party brat, Paris Hilton.
Getting drunk, buying lots of stuff (mostly shoes), indulging in the finest chocolates and playing off her ignorance as “cute”, the Queen and Hilton are two in the same.
At the age of 15, Marie Antoinette was married to Louis XVI of France, with intentions to mend rocky relations between Austria and France. The marriage was unconsummated for several years, and unfortunatly when no-body on the screen is gettin’ any action, neither does the audience during the tire-some first half of the film.
Directed by Soria Coppola, this period piece concentrates solely on the Queen’s posh personal life, trying hard to be the “hip version” of a high school text-book. The film moves like molasses, weighted with awkward close-up shots and pointless scenes of her highness lying around.
An undoubtedly sexy Kirsten Dunst plays the young queen, succeeding in the physical sense, but lacking in her conviction of actual emotion. Dunst looked pretty strung out by the end, but I suppose in comparison with Hilton, maybe this was accurate and intentional.
Although the costumes, speech and sets were far from modern interpretation, the soundtrack featured artists like The Strokes, Aphex Twin and Bow Wow Wow— talk about awkward. This mix not only didn’t match in date, but this film couldn’t even get the tempo in tune with the screen. Fast poppy music doesn’t go well with a slow carriage ride cross-country.
On the upside, the breathtakingly beautiful costumes designed by Milena Canonero make the film worth renting (and fast forwarding).
Categories: Everything I write
