[ 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.
