Life|Love|Loss: Yesterday the snow drifted towards Earth once again. My day was similarly dotted by other floating spirits of sorts. The Portland Art Museum offered a moving and intimate (though full to the rafters) memorial for Terry Toedtemeier. It was great to stand in the midst of a community, in a crowd full of artists, curators, collectors, docents, teachers, scientists, everyday people, etc. Standing alongside Rob we became part of the fabric of the crowd, as a festive undercurrent warmed people sharing their personal stories. There were many familiar faces, notably several artists and the hardest working regional photographers. A few people in the crowd close to Terry mentioned he would have loved to see this sea of folks.

Later in the day we headed to see the much talked about David Fincher movie, The Curious Case of Benjamin Button. As far as film is concerned it was OK, but in terms of storytelling, it was superb. The whole life in reversal was done with a sense of style. The story of how we lose love and gain it back in mysterious ways. Cate Blanchett is so very beautiful, and I was surprised to see both her and my other favorite British actress, Tilda Swinton, in the same film (never on screen together of course). With such a powerhouse cast I was delighted that the acting highlight here is actually by a rather unknown supporting actress, Taraji P. Henson, as Queenie, Button’s surrogate mom. The performance is passionately believable throughout. Based on a short story (though the film lasts three hours) by F. Scott Fitzgerald (1921), its fueled by special make up and computer/airbrushed effects that are at times a lil’ unnerving, but there are some gorgeous scenes in New Orleans that capture the grandeur of another time altogether.

And when we exited the theater there was a dusting of snow-cover over the downtown streets at every corner.

I’m not so sure I am in love with the punctuated way we communicate these days. I wrote a single line on Facebook today that read simply “TJ is actively seeking a new, creative part-time job, suggestions welcome….”.  It’s so brief and hardly gets at the core of my personal, creative economy doubts. Yes, it’s a New Year, and we anticipate lots of slow change in a new President and new Mayor, but does leadership in and of itself define the root of change? As an optimist I still have my cautious skepticism for the coming year.  Not necessarily in the potential of this change for the greater good, though perhaps in the fundamental shift that takes place in each of us as individuals, in the processing of all this newness. It’s hard to put into simple words, it’s part of our DNA, a part of our own histories with family, career, relationships, accomplishments, and overall growth.

IS IT REALLY LONELY UP THERE?: I went to see the film Synecdoche, NY today. It shook a chord being partly a futuristic, segmented play within a play, raw and emotional. Not a happy go lucky type film by any stretch, but an amazing work of cinema by Charlie Kaufman nonetheless. It was great to see such a cast of actors in one film, but of course, it centers around an insular playwright enacted by the formidable Philip Seymour Hoffman, who I have mentioned here before, and surely may again. At the top of his game, on New Year’s Day I also saw him in Doubt alongside Meryl Streep (who was superb in the role of Sister Agnatius). I mention Hoffman because he’s so earnest on screen, often playing characters in some form of lament, turmoil, life changing experience. A dose of reality without the cloying aftertaste of something made for battling brides, supermodels, island castaways or board room ejects. He paces his roles, and in many ways I see him as somewhat of peer role model (we are only a few years apart). Of course he’s already been to the Oscar podium a few times, and though I have no penchant for grasping the idol, I think he’s done deservedly so with integrity.

OK, this isn’t a PSH lovefest now. And perhaps I got off the point, but you just can’t avoid being mused by actors - they are like empty canvases that form delicately with time. And besides, when you are in the process of re-shaping your career in some way, if you rely on hard-n-fast rules you will lose your own elegant sense of asymmetry. So, it’s with this less fleshed out perspective that I go into the night seeking some form of creative work that will bring me at least a sense of passing joy (and knowing that the roof overhead will remain somewhat balanced in the process). Not a woe-is-me wake up call, more like a reaching out to you and yours to see if there is anything you know about that might be tailor made for a shapeshifter like me.

Maybe I should take up acting?
After all I don’t have a day job to give up!

Produced in Portland and less than a month old, Mrs. P with Kathy Kinney (remember the Drew Carey Show?) has been successfully launched after a few years in development. This is a really fun new site filled with stories for kids that include interactive classic literature. It’s free and will keep you clicking, listening and amused for hours. The timing is perfectly matched for the holiday season when families are more often together. Games, stories, contests and much more coming soon….Makes reading quite web 2.0 cool.

Jack Smith was legendary in his own time, to the performers and other artists in and outside of the circle he cast. Even Warhol clearly nodded in his direction, and then by some means re-contextualized what he learned into his own work. His constant battle with Lithuanian-born filmmaker cum curator Jonas Mekas was the bain of his existence after his only complete work was banned. Smith blamed Mekas for stealing his thunder and filling his pockets - a historically important time given the power of the pen which could easily have been a tragic annotated erasure, but instead became a weighty reverse critical dialogue between two creative minds. I will not soon forget Flaming Creatures (1963)….

I find much in common with Jack Smith’s philosophies about social structure, art museums in general and the never-ending process of the process. Being an artist means having to sometimes be misunderstood for your vision, sometimes not giving every last detail away, and then perhaps in time others will catch up. Smith lovingly referred to this as ‘baroque’. And I couldn’t agree more. There’s a lushness all over, like just being wet and naked after a shower and feeling a chilly draft writhing through your apartment. A moment of reality. In Smith’s case, obviously, there are many still influenced by his approach and encouraged by his perverse inner-mission - to protect the essence of all that is within its freedom of choice, and our own pursuit of exploring the depths and heights of personal experience.

Mary Jordan’s documentary has been released on DVD and it’s a rare glimpse into this man’s life, filled with clips and talking heads. It was just plain coincidence that both John Waters and Nayland Blake’s mugs  appear in the film - immediately after having recently worked with each of them. This new film called Jack Smith and the Destruction of Atlantis is worth every one of its 95 minutes (along with telling bonuses too). I enjoyed what Penny Arcade (BITCH!DYKE!FAGHAG!WHORE!) had to say about this infamous filmmaker.

The letters M, L + K are three tall, bold letters, and when in the proper formation stand for something. Add “I” and what do you get?  We are not talking vitamins, nor are we playing word games while searching for a vowel on Wheel of Fortune®, what does it spell?

MILK.

Altogether a word that “does a body good”, loud and proud. And a film of the same name which opened this week in limited release. Yes, a story about Harvey Milk, not much unlike the man behind those grand initials who also started his own revolution. Gus Van Sant has perhaps made the most accessible film of his career and it is a poignant, master docudrama for our times.

THE MAYOR OF CASTRO STREET: The film truly takes the story to new heights by following the people and emotions behind the scenes of 70’s San Francisco and the emergence of a renewed fight for civil rights after Stonewall ten years prior. The movie also allows viewers to see characters who are raw and multidimensional (Sean Penn and Josh Brolin) without watering down their historical significance as mere public servants. This is a near perfect film that focuses on the passion and politics of real peoples’ lives. Interesting how its timing reflects the after effects still mirroring the plague over democracy.

PS: For all you art hounds out there…you may find it interesting (and I wouldn’t have known unless I was a end-credit reader), but Jeff Koons (Art Agnos) appears in the film. Agnos was originally from Springfield, MA and served as the mayor of San Francisco from 1988-1992.

PPS: STR8, BUT NOT NARROW - It was a fun casting twist to see a straight man (Penn) play Harvey Milk and a gay man play Mayor Moscone (Garber).

PPPS: AND THE WINNER IS….Though not quite a golden statuette or a gilded globe, the film was just nominated for a few International Press Academy Awards.

Femme Fatale | Corporate Cannibal
Miss Grace Jones.

[ Has it really been nearly twenty years? ]

That’s Sam Taylor-Wood (w/Pet Shop Boys), btw.

Related: The Financial Times; London Times; The Guardian

David Cronenberg speaks of Warhol’s films…

[courtesy of Ubu]

PS: New developments/comments of an earlier Warhol post “Close-up or Mugshot”….

OFFICIAL SITE

[ TBA:08 ]

HAPPY/END: The Superamas came and conquered making for an exhilirating finale for my overall TBA:08 experience. Some parts of TBA will continue throughout the month (check the site + listings). What a way to kick it out! The nearly ten year old French/Austrian troupe, Superamas, took PSU’s Lincoln Hall by storm with their Big 3rd Episode. Having no problem whatsoever using the body as sex object through the lens of rock n’ roll and modeling, this company of sexy woman and surly men employs a very Euro aesthetic and plenty of tongue-in-cheek lip-sync. It clearly pokes fun at overly fetischized (American?) beauty and brawn along with its trappings, in doing so it also crosses gender barriers, so delicately. Ala Prêt-à-Porter meets This is Spinal Tap this fresh show is broken into bits, and re-run as if we controlled the remote, rewinding to more closely examine the subtext. And there’s a colorful dance party, video of tantric massage and themes perhaps from the cutting room floor of a softcore Bruce la Bruce flick. With more lighting cues than most off-Broadway, of course it spoke to me.

[ TBA:08 ] As part of the TBA Festival PICA’s Kristan Kennedy has curated an exhibition titled The New Absurdists. The provocation that there is a movement at work herein is a palpable one. Jacob Hartman’s wonderfully overdone _______Head is a great entryway into an exhibition that is otherwise a passage of time. Kennedy has most certainly captured an elongated aesthetic, ensnaring several artists within one bite. Most of the work here, while topical, may only be time-based as in its relationship to the fest, literally. In this light, what is captured is the essence of the moment, temporary expression via cheap, easy-access materials. Color is used blatantly, and in its wake comes a raw by-product in the attack of its own physical, material nature. This odd show downstairs at the Leftbank (240 N. Broadway, viewable most days 12-6PM) is perhaps a sight for sore eyes (though you’ll have to go into the beer garden to smoke). Call me old-fashioned, but as a whole it’s perhaps just too ‘right now’ for me. Granted, most of this work is presented in a well designed setting of video booths, accented by sculptural objects. The overall feel is playfully farse and downright absurd. Yeah, it makes its point, and then some - that’s the rub, the tension here.

Part of this exhibition includes the Mike Kelley film I reported on earlier. The highlight in the two large rooms below the performance venue is certainly Jeffry Mitchell’s California. It’s just pure kitcsh and the cloud orgasm wallpaper is over-the-top. Justin Gorman’s Results Under Action (on view in other citywide locations) is a close contender by offering short isms that speak of the conceptual context of place/placement. Neither of these artists are strangers to the local scene, where we’ve experienced their work in multiple venues in differing forms, but they each make a distinct comment on the breaking point of capitalism and/or the poker-faced urban experience. Otherwise I couldn’t consciously connect with the work of Corey Lunn, Harry Dodge/Stanya Kahn or Tamy Ben-Tor, they just seemed to play to an Audience for Dummies, and the haphazardness of the Lizzie Fitch installation left me wanting to add and subtract parts and pieces. Don’t get me wrong, it is a playground for the spirit, just not at all high art by any stretch - and doesn’t pose as such. It’s the frivolous factor, the hijinks and goofiness that I find off-putting somehow. But that’s just me (or is it?).

I didn’t get to see the Ryan Trecartin piece as a mini crowd formed a clusterf*ck in the small space. Other work in the show had some moments worth the trip - but there is something unique to be said about the instantaneous improv motivation/bastardazation of video art as funneled say, ala YouTube. Adding to this, The Yes Men at PNCA (an extension curated by Astria Suparak) takes to corporate America on overload. I loved the every detail covered donut breakroom. Otherwise it’s pretty self-serve, leaving you mostly on your own to deal with what’s left behind - not unlike the greasy stains from the cruellers and jellies! There are connected outdoor events and activities, something that may appeal to a multitude of sensibilities. Portland PDX Art captured some snapshots of the exhibition as well. Despite my edge of criticism, Kennedy has captured the spirit of the place like no other before, this is by far the most PORTLAND show I’ve ever seen. For those in the know, well, you know.

[ TBA:08 ] How apropos? I opened up my latest issue of Modern Painters and abruptly closed the pages shut after seeing an ad for photoMiami depicting wolfboy. For reasons I will not elaborate, though it did remind me of the barbershop sequence in the 2005 Mike Kelley film Day is Done (Extracurricular Activity Projective Reconstructions #2–32). Now playing as part of the TBA Festival, this near 3-hour pastische drew from wild opposites. Part Cremaster rip-off, part It Couldn’t Happen Here (1987), with inflections of Kenneth Anger-lite and something ala Waiting for Guffman-style community auditions for a local Christian talent show. The opening segment has a trio of dancers who form a mini train (chugga-chugga-chugga) and dance all around what appears to be the hallways of a middle school, all to a cool repetitive rhythm. And sure, Day is Done has more pop culture references than you can shake a stick at, but who wants to be left with the short end? Honestly, for a stalwart LA artist of his pedigree, Kelley has envisioned a lacklustre transition from the sculptural installation realm into performative moving pictures.

Recently I visited the Broad Collection (fantastic website btw) and got to walk through his Gym Interior (2005) which is pretty much a bunkered down version of the same thing, made for museum-goers. Still, here, I found something sorely lacking that embodied the cahones-grabbing stuffed animal manifestos, deodorizers, hermaphrodites or even his works combining a multitude of buttons, bangles and beads. This film poses one too many extracurricular activities (thirty in all!) shmooshed together in one place at one time (nazis, drag queens, gansta-luv), and not enough to make it over-the-top crazy ridiculous. Originally presented as part of a big bad Gagosian expo - and you too can choke on Michael Kimmelman’s original review of the exhibition that helped launch this spectacle. Though I appreciate his riff on educational institutions, classic b-horror films and religion, I just didn’t see anything that could possibly refer back to the Vienna Actionists. And the overall drug-haze lost-in-the-wilderness drone never quite picks up.  There are certainly good moments (hey, I sat through it) though with three hours to endure, even with the built-in ‘Intermission’ its just too much an investment for any typical arthouse cinemaphile (three more shows through 9/14 at the Whitsell).

Mark Russell is obsessed w/Divas*: The day was just getting started (or so I thought), and after a quick slice/salad combo I next ventured over to PSU’s Lincoln Hall (a nice space) to witness Leesaar’s Geisha. These folks, after all, are Guggenheim receipients and have been lauded with accolades aplenty. Perhaps I was expecting a lovely geisha to appear before my eyes, but at third row center none ever appeared. No make-up, no get-up, just a singular half-nude asian lady upon the stage performing what seemed to be mime, and some modern dance. For someone who rarely sees nude women, this dancer had a very interesting, and thin body that was flexible, yet almost robotic. These moves were intersected by well delivered (lip-synched?) Israeli songs performed with all the trappings of a big Celine Dion number. When a second dancer appeared on stage things livened up. A beautifully lithe man, whose moves were fluid and seductive joined the first. When the two danced together on stage something clicked, but suddenly we were transported back to the arena for the whale of another diva loop-de-loop. The work seemed broken and in progress, incomplete somehow. The production is a bit cold and skimpy - something of a stretch from its title. Though their body churning was acrobatic and in sync, most of this movement harkened back to much seen from modern dance over the last couple decades, nothing new, really. [*there is more than a single hint of Beyonce interwoven within this fest]

MILE-HIGH + RISING: I kicked myself for not having seen Seattle-based Reggie Watts last year in this festival, so I was determined to get to the theater early to see Transition. But now, with sore bottom, I recommend you get yours into one of them there seats tonight at 9PM for the final of three shows. This man rocks. Plain & Simple. The stripped-down show uses comedy, video and hip-hop beats that don’t take all too much seriousness into account, and simultaneously never becomes slaphappy or too self-righteous in its delivery. Watts’ transitions from characters are sharp, and the (at times gun-toting) company’s use of technology, movement and innuendo is tightly woven into a fresh production. The spoof on MJF is priceless. And the man has rhythm, presence and a soulful vocal range that is infectious - all the while twisting knobs and sampling away. If I were to have any criticism at all it would only be to double the length of the show, we want more, we want more! So far, this is the hit of the fest.

TEN TINY DANCES: The perennial 4′ square favorite was at SRO last night. My buddy Rob joined me for my first entry into the Leftbank Project - and it left an immediate impression. I am sure anyone there would agree that the lack of air in the space made for a most stuffy (spelled HOT) night to watch live dance performance. The body heat from the audience and lights superceded the cavernous space that seemed to morph for this event - and once the dancers took the stage of 16 square feet nothing else seemed to matter. Though, it made for a strange sense of intimacy given those coordinates, and didn’t steal from some stellar performances. Three of those included Meshi Chavez (sinewy, muscular, intense), Portland Taiko (who needs coffee?) and the phenomenal Hot Little Hands (a trio of square pegs atop the teeny stage). I was also pleasantly surprised that not all of the dancers were perfectly built, nor only youth. And the choices of musical accompaniment was quite diverse - from traditional Kathak (Archana Kumar) to the rigidity of Apparat (Chavez). The audience reflected this same diversity. Due to illness (etc) we were only treated to 8 of 10 dances…perhaps the box office could have refunded everyone two dollars (for tipping…) by importing the ’special guest’ appearing at Silverado just across the river last night (it was reportedly going to be RuPaul, but was a Mary J. Blige impersonator, and 2xist models instead). What can I say - I thrive on culture clash. I was disappointed that there was no access to the visual art installations downstairs as a friend mentioned they were underwhelming, and I wanted a chance to prove otherwise, though maybe next time.

TBA is HAPPENING.

The past week has included a few more visits to the cinema. In fact, though all three movies that I witnessed had a certain charm, I seem to be more compelled by thicker drama these days. I saw Brideshead Revisited, adapted from the 1945 novel by Evelyn Waugh. I was only sweet sixteen when I first saw the original series on PBS, a very impressionable guy. Jeremy Irons‘ performance as Charles Ryder was etched in my head for years after. It’s your basic (w/a slight twist) love triangle cross between the classes. The story portrays the delicate intimacies and intrigue of a dysfunctional family, when everything comes to a head and comes apart slowly. The acting is all superb, especially roles played by Patrick Malahide (as dad, Edward Ryder) and Emma Thompson as the foil, Lady Marchmain. It’s playing at the Hollywood (& elsewhere, check your listings) until the 4th.

For a tinge of lighter faire I took in Bottle Shock with the fantastic actor Alan Rickman. His British fine wine snobbery is a perfect balance of spice for the Californian blond and blue-eyed valleys he put-puts about. This was the adaptation of a true story of the birth of wine country in Napa Valley. With a great supporting cast, they go from ‘hick’ to hip when their fruit of the vine is discovered in a blind test against French vino on the soil across the pond. It’s funny, sweet (if not a bit formulaic) and styled in the bicentennial era.

Lastly, Elegy, based on Philip Roth’s short The Dying Animal is devastating on a few levels. The leads (both Ben Kingsley and Penelope Cruz) are impossible to take your eyes off - Kingsley is so earnest and believable as a 60+ year old school teacher and oft cultural critic who falls in love with his student/muse in the face of “old age”. Cruz plays an MFA student who is striking against the Goya’s in which she’s compared, elegant and articulate, it is her deep dark eyes that do the acting - more than most body doubles. The story is about love in its various dimensions, how it can be forcibly stunted for the sake of preordained circumstances. I don’t really care to say more about this film (except see it), save that it came close to home after a relationship of very similar, unrequited quagmire. I may head to Powell’s for a copy of the pages that preceded it. Strong stuff with a small ensemble cast that includes the gorgeously angular Patricia Clarkson, veteran Dennis Hopper and only too briefly, Deborah Harry.

If you’re like me, a foodie, and care about where the ingredients come from when you go out (like our own backyard) check this episode of Dave Does….commercials are free (!!).

PS: Just so you early risers know, there is a new book coming out very soon called “Breakfast in Bridgetown“. Now, that’s something to savor!

In my opinion, one of the most exciting and original pop bands of the last three decades, The B-52’s just keep it froogin’. To be a fan since about “1980″ (when you couldn’t go to a party without hearing this one) and to only now discover this video gem is sublime. Bless YouTube!

The new(ish) disc Funplex kicks it with a fresh Summertime spin. Songs like Hot Corner, Pump and the title track are pure bliss! (not so sure about the back-up dancers…)

Infinitus by TJ Norris. Soundtrack by C. Renou.

I’ve forever been haunted by this character invented by DC Comics back in 1940. Originally based on a photograph of one of the actors from the silent film, The Man Who Laughs (1928) the Joker always seems to get the last laugh. Given the fact that the recent film, The Dark Knight, was released to a posthumous performance by Heath Ledger, it has a ring as sharp as the blade he wields in the picture. This movie has an edge as you ride its unpredictable turns, filled with the usual Men In Black meets 007-type vehicles and gadgets galore. The actors who have portrayed the Joker over the decades have truly fit the role in their own time period - with a certain hilarity, and over-the-top performances. This one is certainly a touch darker, and prepare yourself for 2.5 hours in a dark theater with lots of aerial shots, crashing glass and explosions. The hospital scene alone is worth the ticket price. It’s a great follow-up to Batman Begins, and a much more ‘realistic’ (raw) interpretation of a fictional character than prior attempts.

This Just In: Pantomiming Joker wanna-be….

…And This Too: Jerry Robinson, the original Joker cartoonist talks about The Dark Knight and his new collection forthcoming from Dark Horse (right here in Milwaukie, OR)!

Yeah, it just blew by. But was filled with more than hot/thin air.

The weekend kicked off with a fantastic opening of the 4th Annual Juried Exhibition at Newspace Center for Photography. What made the evening particularly special for me was the artists in attendance, and especially those traveling distances to be there. Alia Malley came from Los Angeles, Jasper Sanidad came up from San Francisco, Joshua Kim (of the soon-to-be-closing Rake) was in town taking a break from his studies in London, and Oaklander Uri Korn who was in the first Newspace Annual in 2005 (curated by Terry Toedtemeier) stopped by after his opening with others in Universal Grammar, over at Gallery Homeland. Even Olympian (WA, that is) Daniel Baron and his family stopped by to join us from his own powerful solo show A Numb Hinge that was opening simultaneously blocks away at Pushdot.

BACKGROUND/PROCESS: Curating this survey-style group show was an extremely difficult process. First of all, I looked at over 320 electronic portfolios of work (practical, but far from my favorite way to look at work). Then having to cull down to what I anticipated to be only 25 works maximum seemed a bit daunting. Why? Well, there was a lot of really strong work submitted. There were several other layers of elements and reasons that made weeding out ‘the best’ psychically challenging. I will tell you this, my first pass was to remove anything that was overly Photoshopped…oh yes. Unless that seems the point. But I did turn away some powerful work. My own standards stopped me from ever looking at resumes or pedigree, unless I knew of the photographer by way of looking. Though I have to say I was only privy to about three photographers chosen in the end.

Secondarily, there are always portfolios which seem oddly suspect, lets say I get a sneaking suspicion that they are perhaps looking too much like a batch of stock imagery - so I weigh that and then wave some of those goodbye as well. In this batch, I actually received one that fit this description - perfect studio lighting, though with obscure subject matter - so this portfolio slipped to the next round, but didn’t make the final cut. But, honestly, one of the images in its contents still is emblazoned in my head. Critical thinking shuts down after a few hours running high speed, so intermittent breaks were factored in heavily over the course of a few weeks while I labored my decision. The final four rounds became more and more difficult, and rejecting portfolios by several colleagues who I know and respect is a hard process too - but I had to face that demon. And a handful of these folks are museum worthy. But I was searching for an overall sense of something that brought the whole thing together. Disparate images from many outlying places, stylistically spread thickly over cultures and cities in and outside my normal radar. Perhaps I sought something ‘new’…if there is some such. Perhaps I was looking for anything I have never seen..or that reminisces of something I’ve only seen in passing. A spirit of a moment I would have wanted to capture myself - but didn’t? The mind whirs.

After the fact, I realized I told many people that night that I had never curated a solely photo-based show before, but after some backtracking I realize that’s not true. I curated an exhibition called Stratum back in ‘03 at Soundvision that featured Julie Orser, Dan Burke (aka Illusion of Safety), Donald Jones (aka htur), Barbara Loomis, and Martina Verhoeven (who visited from Belgium with her partner Dirk, aka vidnaObmana, who played at the gallery). This show caught the attention of, among others, the curator of the Galveston Art Center and then director of LACMA who was in town for a conference (and sold quite well, btw). I dug further back into another few shows I curated and realized that in ‘02 I also put together disembodied.reconfigured with three photographers Bruce Eves (Toronto), Chris Komater (San Francisco) and Ira Tattleman (Washington, DC). I even assisted in curating a solo exhibition of work by photographer Kimba Kuzas called Dark Ages around that time. So, a dim light must have went off in my head.

Suffice to say, coming out of the process, having selected 37 photographers, was more than I thought we could chew within the modest confines of Newspace, but I think we pulled it off, and several folks have responded most favorably. So, there. And, phew!

Right now I do not have any curatorial projects in the works, but they become my babies, incubating warmly, until ready to be hatched. I have said many times in the past that curation is an art form in and of itself, and I stick by that statement. It’s as if you are able to use the work of others to form an installation, and most of this comes from looking, editing, re-arranging, making changes, placement, and making some form of statement - visual or literary. It’s very creative and fun, very frustrating and time-consuming, and in the end, as a curator, you are responsible for making many things ‘look good’ or sewing common threads, or drawing conclusions. I like the idea of ‘drawing’ in this context. Points of reference, all connected by some invisible line….

The remainder of the weekend included the usual escape from the heat, the cinema! I managed to head out to movies to balance for the lack of general cultural content as of late - making up for the b-movies mentioned last week. This time around we witnessed three very, very different documentaries (which we both seem to dig). These included: Gonzo, The Life & Work of Dr. Hunter S. Thompson, Derek, and the world premiere of Adam Cornelius’ People Who Do Noise (now available on DVD). The latter was made here in Portland, covering a range of regional folks working in the genre including better known (as far as the underground allows) Smegma and Daniel Menche. Newer practitioners like God and the Yellow Swans are also among those featured (many in the seats around me). It was a packed, near sold house at the Clinton last night. With decades of an international sound community out there, using sound as a medium of one’s personal madness, it was about time to see a film that captures the latest spirit of the apocalyptic (aptly described by several in the film as ‘punk’). The catharsis spent by many of the performers personifies a collective subconscious of how people simply make noise to be heard, with or without the need for the mainstream. The film drove its point in way deep.

The film about Hunter S. Thompson, who almost expectedly took his own life back in ‘05, is a solid and revealing piece about this man’s singular poetic (and calculatingly manipulative) vision of the state of the state. His gripping words often cut hard into the core of American politics with no one ever attempting to fill his shoes prior or to date. He was simultaneously unafraid, and comfortably numb. The film is a beautifully cast gem.

Lastly, I was disappointed to only see a dozen seats filled at PAM’s Whitsell Auditorium (the prior evening was slow as well) for the mostly untold story of one of the great filmmakers of the last century during the run of the series Of Angels and Apocalypse: The Cinema of Derek Jarman. After all, it was a hot Saturday night, and the cool theater offers much of a respite in these matters. However, I was far from disappointed at the loving ode of a film it is. The series runs through month’s end and includes most of Jarman’s must-see work, in particular, the graceful The Last of England (1987) and the rarely screened Wittgenstein (1993) and The Angelic Conversation (1985). The new film Derek by Isaac Julien (and starring the phenom & Academy Award Winner® Tilda Swinton who also wrote, narrated and produced the picture) is a great snapshot of a British artist and activist whose solitary vision was a testament to the times we are now living in.

—–

In conclusion, I have also been out and about to view some shows around town including luminous and eye-popping work by both Jaq Chartier (Elizabeth Leach) and slightly more optical and completely gorgeous John Dempcey (Augen), layered floral landscapes by Tamara English (Mark Woolley), and the group show about food (PDX Contemporary), and also the cryptically flowing stark pieces appearing in Brian Borrello’s Ars Brevis, Vita Longa (Pulliam Deffenbaugh) (these must be getting much more expensive to produce - double wink!). I also want to leave you with one thought I had as I emerged from a dream after seeing the current show at NAAU:

Jacqueline Ehlis’ Serenade can suitably be described as unpainting, that exists in the recesses between the fine lines of works by Koons to Duchamp. Her use of color emits light outside the confines of its format, making for a hybrid between the spatial relationship of the flat plane and the gallery itself.

And I also made it to see owner Wid Chambers’ exhibition at his epynomous Chambers Gallery, titled Urban Forest. With new director Martha Morgan now at the helm, this is the final show at its current location before they move to the Pearl District this Fall. Chambers has used the exhibition space as his ‘canvas’ to build out a completely enchanted digital forest from prefabricated plywood and projections of tree-lined green space. Here distancing (or making ‘convenient’ for) the viewer to avoid real time wilderness within the assumed safe setting of the white box, opting for the outside indoors. It’s smartly sarcastic, though would offer a better viewing experience in a more controlled, much darker space. Speaking of galleries moving on…in one month Portland is losing Small A, Rake and Tilt Gallery & Project Space (and tight lipped rumors run amok about a few others who may not see the light of the end of Summer). In the past several years many have come and gone (remember Alysia Duckler, Margo Jacobsen, S.K. Josefsberg, Field Gallery, Savage?). Would combining efforts and assets help? How does this speak of the future or of the longevity for the average gallery - and of the scene in Portland? Will attempts like the grassroots, interdisciplinary efforts of both galleryHomeland and the soon-to-be re-re-emerging Disjecta take the reigns and place for much of the exhibition venue needs in the area? Does quality prevail and quantity only divide a community? Is romancing the current cultural tourist model enough? So many questions, so lil’ time. Ommmmm……