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Gwarlingo Artists in the News: André Gregory & Cindy Kleine, Sam Green & Jem Cohen, & Joseph Keckler’s “I Am An Opera”

 

Joseph Keckler

Singer, writer, and performance artist Joseph Keckler (Photo by Gerry Visco courtesy of Joseph Keckler)

 

Few things are as fulfilling as seeing a large, creative project finally reach completion. For many artists, finishing can be as difficult as starting. Artists often toil away for months, even years on a project with no reassurance that the work will find an audience or receive any critical attention.

That’s why I was thrilled to see a number of artists who have been featured on Gwarlingo receive some well-deserved attention from the mainstream press this past week. I remember when these projects were nothing more than an idea, and most of these films and performances were years in the making. (Perseverance is an often overlooked element in the creative process.)

No. Not all deserving artists receive the attention they deserve. But creative projects can’t stay in “the draft” stage forever. They need audiences and feedback in order to have any hope of making an impact.

Here are just a few of the Gwarlingo artists who have been in the news recently and who currently have new work on view in New York and other cities….

 

Joseph Keckler will perform his new work I Am An Opera at Dixon Place in New York during the month of April. (Photo by Gerry Visco)

Joseph Keckler will perform his new work I Am An Opera at Dixon Place in New York during the month of April. (Photo by Gerry Visco courtesy of Joseph Keckler)

 

Performance Artist Joseph Keckler

When I first saw Joseph Keckler perform two years ago, I was immediately convinced that he was going places. It was not a matter of “if,” but “when.”

Keckler’s new show I Am An Opera, which can be seen in New York City through April 27th, recently received press from both Interview! and the New York Times.

Joseph’s new song and video “The Ride” has just been released and will be performed as part of I Am An Opera. (The video is a collaboration with filmmaker Laura Terruso, musician Dan Bartfield, and performer Edgar Oliver, a favorite on The Moth).

In his interview with Gerry Visco in Interview!, Joseph humorously describes the evolution of the song and video:

I envisioned the driver as an almost Charon-like figure. We called Edgar Oliver and asked him if he might want to play the part. He replied in his extraordinary bass-baritone voice, which is simultaneously soothing and foreboding, “Oh yes, I love the idea… but I only have a learner’s permit. Can I take you across the river Styx on a… learner’s permit?” [laughs] I was trying to think about purgatory, in between states. For some reason, this song came out of that. I was making work in between forms and I was trying to make work that was about being in between worlds…

 

I wrote it over the course of a couple weeks in the La Mama ETC Theater rehearsal studio on Great Jones Street. I didn’t know how to sing it; I was approaching it with a big lounge-singer baritone. Eventually I tried it in my falsetto voice, which I’m using more and more of for “pop” songs.

 

Joseph Keckler will perform his new work I Am An Opera at Dixon Place in New York during the month of April. (Photo by Gian Maria Annovi courtesy the artist)

Joseph Keckler will perform his new work I Am An Opera at Dixon Place in New York during the month of April. (Photo by Gian Maria Annovi courtesy the artist)

 

 

Joseph Keckler (Photo by Gerry Visco courtesy of Joseph Keckler)

Joseph Keckler in his new show I Am An Opera (Photo by Gerry Visco courtesy of Joseph Keckler)

Joseph’s work may be difficult to categorize, as the Times acknowledges, but for my taste, this is what makes it so unique and unforgettable. A fascinating blend of actor, pianist, opera and blues singer, performer, cabaret act, and storyteller, you can get a taste of Keckler’s unusual style in these video segments featured on Gwarlingo back in 2011.

As the Times article explains, I Am an Opera is largely autobiographical and a mix of song, text, and video. According to the Times, the piece “has been nearly two years in the making and has garnered no small amount of buzz along the way.”

You can watch “The Ride” here and reserve tickets to the Dixon Place performance online. I’m looking forward to seeing this show myself on April 26th!

 

Writer, performance artist, and actor Edgar Oliver in Joseph Keckler's "The Ride" (Video still courtesy of Joseph Keckler)

Writer, performance artist, and actor Edgar Oliver in Joseph Keckler’s video for “The Ride” (Video still courtesy of Joseph Keckler)

 

 

 

 

 

Filmmaker Jem Cohen

Filmmaker Jem Cohen


 

Filmmakers Jem Cohen and Sam Green

Two of my favorite filmmakers, Sam Green and Jem Cohen, were also featured in the New York Times last week in an article about the revival of live cinema titled “Movies that Spill Beyond the Screen.”

Jem Cohen’s new project, We Have an Anchor, is now at the top of my “Must-See” list for the fall:

For the filmmaker Jem Cohen, who has long straddled the film and music worlds, live cinema has the potential to induce “a kind of primitive enchantment,” he said in a recent e-mail. While most movies are too predictably scored, and while projections at concerts tend to double as “moving wallpaper,” as Mr. Cohen put it, live cinema permits “a more equitable balance or dialectic between sound and image.”

Mr. Cohen’s new live project, “We Have an Anchor,” which will be at the Brooklyn Academy of Music next fall, combines multiscreen projections of Nova Scotia landscapes with live accompaniment by musicians from Fugazi, the Dirty Three and Godspeed You! Black Emperor.

“As an environmental portrait I wanted to make something fully immersive,” Mr. Cohen said.

 
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Sonic Artist Bruce Odland: Money Makes Noise, A Water Tank Creates Art

 

The Tank at night (Photo courtesy Friends of the Tank)

The Tank in Rangely, Colorado, is considered one of the sonic marvels of the world within a certain circle of composers and sound artists. (Photo courtesy Friends of the Tank)

 

Is there a connection between noise and money?  Which sounds are healing to us as humans, and which are damaging? And what does an abandoned water tank in Colorado have in common with the Taj Mahal or a Gothic cathedral?

These are questions that sound artist and composer Bruce Odland has been pondering for decades. While Odland began his career in the traditional music world—one that emphasized Bach, Beethoven, and Brahms—Odland discovered that his academic training didn’t correspond with his own experiences in the American landscape. While traveling in the mountains out West, he began to invent a new musical language—one based on the random sounds of nature instead of the repeated sounds and rhythms found in both Western music and in man-made machines.

 

Composer Bruce Odland recording at The Tank in Rangely, Colorado (Photo courtesy Friends of the Tank)

Composer Bruce Odland recording inside the abandoned water tank in Rangely, Colorado (Photo courtesy Friends of the Tank)

 

 

Bruce Odland-Switzerland 1

Bruce Odland making recordings for Hearing View, a project involving the oldest mental hospital in Switzerland. The project is a collaboration with Sam Auinger. (Photo courtesy Bruce Odland)

 

 

Blue Moon at the World Financial Center in New York City (Photo courtesy Bruce Odland)

For Blue Moon, O + A (Sam Auinger and Bruce Odland) created an installation that transformed the environment of the World Financial Center Plaza in New York City into an ambient soundscape activated by the rising tides of the river, docking commuter ferries, helicopter and jet traffic, car horns, waves, bird song, and breezes off the Hudson. (Photo courtesy Bruce Odland)

 

Odland is known for his large-scale, public space sound installations which transform city noise into harmony, realtime. In 2004 he and collaborator Sam Auinger altered the harmonic mix of the World Financial Center Plaza in New York City, using the moon, tides, harmonic tuning tubes, and cement loudspeakers. Together they have changed the sonic character of many public spaces around the world. His most recent project with Auinger involves transforming Switzerland’s oldest mental hospital into a space filled with healing sounds. Odland has also worked with artists like Laurie Anderson, Dan Graham, Andre Gregory, Wally Shawn, Peter Sellars, and the Wooster Group.

Bruce recently launched a Kickstarter campaign to raise money to save an abandoned water tank in Colorado. The Tank is considered one of the sonic marvels of the world within a certain circle of composers and sound artists. The group, called Friends of the Tank, has started a nonprofit to preserve the unique structure as a space for community gatherings, music events, and recording sessions. The group needs to raise $42,000 in order to preserve the space, and they won’t receive any donations if they don’t meet their goal by March 31st.

 

 

 

A glimpse inside The Tank (Photo courtesy Friends of the Tank)

A glimpse inside The Tank (Photo courtesy Friends of the Tank)

 

 

The Tank in Colorado (Photo courtesy of Friends of the Tank)

The Tank in Rangely, Colorado is in danger of being lost. (Photo courtesy of Friends of the Tank)

 

 

Light inside The Tank (Photo courtesy Friends of the Tank)

Light inside The Tank (Photo courtesy Friends of the Tank)

 

A few weeks ago Bruce and I had an in-depth conversation about the Tank, sonic space, and the political and personal implications of the sounds we encounter each day.

As Bruce explained during our interview, “We won’t understand ourselves as a culture until we also understand the sounds we make.”

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Boston Ballet & Jirí Kylián: Bring An Open Mind, Readiness for Adventure, & Time

 

Boston Ballet-Kylian-Tar and Feathers

John Lam and Lia Cirio with pianist Tomoko Mukaiyama in Jirí Kylián’s Tar and Feathers (Photo by Rosalie O’Connor courtesy the Boston Ballet)

 

Last week the Boston Ballet kicked off its spring season at the Boston Opera House with three works by Czechoslovakian choreographer Jirí Kylián. Born in Prague, Kylián trained at the Royal Ballet School in London and the Prague Conservatory. His choreographic career started under John Cranko at the Stuttgart Ballet in 1970, before moving to the Nerderlands Dans Theater, where he became director in 1978.

Fully appreciating Kylián’s work requires both concentration and open-mindedness, for the choreographer has no interest in spoon-feeding his audience and dislikes providing written commentary on his work. “He doesn’t believe audiences should be told what to see or think,” Roslyn Anderson, a former dancer with Kylián’s Nederlands Dans Theater, told the Boston Globe.  ”He loves that one person sitting next to another can see something totally different in the same work.”

This disparity of opinion was in clear evidence during Saturday night’s performance, a sure sign of the program’s creative range.

 

The Boston Opera House is one of the finest examples of the vaudeville circuit palace at the pinnacle of its development. Designed in a combination of French and Italian styles by Thomas White Lamb, one of the foremost theatre architects of his day (Photo by Michelle Aldredge)

The Boston Opera House, the site of the Boston Ballet’s All-Kylián program, is one of the finest examples of the vaudeville circuit palace and was designed in a combination of French and Italian styles by Thomas White Lamb. (Photo by Michelle Aldredge)

 

 

Boston Ballet

Lia Cirio and Paulo Arrais in Boston Ballet’s Wings of Wax (Photo by Rosalie O’Connor courtesy Boston Ballet)

 

The evening started with the haunting 1997 piece, Wings of Wax, which is performed beneath an immense, bare tree, its crown stretching above the heads of the dancers. A spotlight slowly circles the tree, suggesting a rotating planet. The presence of this artificial sun and the title of the piece, references the myth of Icarus, who attempted to escape the island of Crete with wings made of wax and feathers, but drowned when he ignored his father’s instruction not to fly too close to the sun. Knowing Kylián’s intense concern about environmental issues, global warming in particular, it’s hard not to see the reference to Icarus and continual presence of this rotating “sun” as a warning and contemporary take on the Icarus myth.

This dance for eight, set to music by Philip Glass, Heinrich von Biber, John Cage, and Johann Sebastian Bach, uses entrances and exits, as well as coupling and separation, to great effect. The dancers circle and embrace each other with fluent, organic movements. The shadows cast by the tree and rotating spotlight give us a sense of the passage of time.

 

Wings of Wax by Jiri Kylian for Nederlands Dans Theater with Stefan Zeromski & Aurelie Cayla (Joris-Jan Bos Photography van Merlenstraat)

Wings of Wax by Jiri Kylian for Nederlands Dans Theater with Stefan Zeromski & Aurelie Cayla (Photo by Joris-Jan Bos courtesy the Boston Ballet)

 

 

Sharon Mor Yosef-Tar and Feathers

Tar and Feathers (Photo by Sharon Mor Yosef courtesy the Boston Ballet)

 

 

Boston Ballet

Boston Ballet’s production of Kylián’s Tar and Feathers is the first time the piece has been performed in the U.S. (Photo by Rosalie O’Connor courtesy the Boston Ballet)

 

The second work on the program, the 2006 Tar and Feathers was the newest piece and also the most experimental. Judging by the reactions of those sitting around me, the work presented some challenges for a ballet audience more accustomed to pointe shoes and fouettés than dancers in socks growling like wolves and popping bubble wrap on stage. But Tar and Feathers was my personal favorite of the night.

Both the choreography and set are structured around weight and weightlessness, a likely reference to black, sticky, gravity-laden tar versus light, fragile feathers. In the final moments of the work, when one of the dancers exits the stage slowly walking over the shiny, black vinyl floor and a sheet of bubble wrap, the idea of weight and air converge. The unusual movements, growling sounds, and anxious popping of the bubble wrap through the piece speaks to the age of anxiety in which we live, as well as our primal natures. After all, it is these animal impulses that lead to mob mentality, the root of tarring and feathering.

“My work is a metaphor for the ‘Unbearable lightness’ and the ‘Unbearable weight’ of our being on our tiny planet,” Kylián says on his website. “Our life very often resembles a person with a ‘Lead weight’ chained to his ankle, and yet holding a flying ‘Balloon’ in his hand, soon to be torn apart by the two contrasting forces.”

Kylián has an absurdist streak, and it’s on full display with Tar and Feathers. In addition to music by Mozart, Dirk Haubrich, and  Tomoko Mukaiyama, Kylián’s recorded voice recites Samuel Beckett’s last poem, “What is the Word,” throughout the performance.

what is the word -
folly from this -
all this -
folly from all this -
given -
folly given all this -
seeing -
folly seeing all this -
this -

The inability to express ourselves is another central theme in Tar and Feathers. Such existential angst may not make all viewers comfortable, but “comfort” isn’t the point.

 

Lia-Cirio-and-John-Lam-in-Kylians-Tar-and-Feathers.jpg

John Lam and Lia Cirio with pianist Tomoko Mukaiyama in Jiří Kylián’s Tar and Feathers (Photo by Rosalie O’Connor courtesy the Boston Ballet)

 

 

Tomoko Mukaiyama (Photo by Joost van den Broek courtesy the artist's website)

Tomoko Mukaiyama (Photo by Joost van den Broek courtesy the artist’s website)

 

The sight of Tomoko Mukaiyama improvising on a ten-foot high Steinway piano adds an element of drama to Tar and Feathers. Twelve years ago this classically trained performer began working as a visual artist and now creates installation pieces in concert halls.

The towering piano is spider-like and menacing, much like a giant Louise Bourgeois sculpture. Kylián ”needed someone who was, first of all, not afraid of heights,” Tom­oko told the Boston Herald. The piano is also tilted at an angle. “It’s a funny feeling,” she explained. “It’s quite scary.” Wearing a long, futuristic-looking gown, Tomoko not only improvises on prepared piano while hovering 10 feet in the air, she also stands and plucks the instrument’s strings at various points in the performance.

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The Epiphany of Dance: Wim Wenders’ Stunning Farewell to Pina Bausch

 

A still from Wim Wenders’ Pina (Photo © Neue Road Movies GmbH. A Sundance Selects Release. Click to Enlarge)

 

Timing is everything, particularly in the case of Wim Wenders’ film Pina.

Wenders, director of the critically acclaimed Wings of Desire and Buena Vista Social Club, first saw Pina Bausch’s Café Müller in 1985 when her dance company, Tanztheater Wuppertal, performed it in Venice. Wenders described his first encounter with Pina Bausch’s choreography to Alix Lambert at Filmmaker magazine:

Twenty-five years ago my girlfriend decided to take me to a double bill of two pieces by Pina Bausch. I resisted. I said no. I didn’t expect much and thought there were greater ways to spend an evening in Venice, Italy. But I caved in and went along ready to have a boring evening, and then the very opposite happened. Something hit me like lightning and I sat there on the edge of my seat from the beginning. I found myself weeping like a baby, weeping through the entire piece, Café Müller, not knowing what was happening to me.

I was completely unprepared for the language that Pina showed me that night. Nothing had prepared me. Nothing. I was overwhelmed and emotionally charged like never before. My brain didn’t know what was happening. My body seemed to understand much better. I mean, it was a shock, because in 38 minutes — and that’s as long as Café Müller lasts — this (for me) unknown woman, Pina Bausch, had shown me more about man and woman than the entire history of cinema. Without a single word — just with these sleepwalkers on stage. I had felt and seen and sensed things about men and women that I couldn’t really put my finger on, but what she did I felt is essential and mind-blowing. I didn’t know how she had done it. That was my introduction to dance theater and to Pina Bausch. I don’t think any other night in my life has changed me so much like that night.

 

Director Wim Wenders on the set of Pina (Photo by Donata Wenders)

 

Wenders arranged to meet Bausch for coffee during his trip to Venice and this was the beginning of their 20-year friendship. Wenders suggested the two make a film together, but according to the Pina website, “putting the plan into action failed for a long time because of the limited possibilities of the medium: Wenders felt that he had not yet found a way to adequately translate Pina Bausch’s unique art of movement, gesture, speech and music into film.”

By 2008 new developments in 3D technology persuaded Wenders that the time was right for a collaboration with Bausch. Pre-production on the film began in early 2009. After half a year of intensive work, and only two days before the planned 3D rehearsal shoot, the unthinkable happened: Pina Bausch died unexpectedly. She had been diagnosed with cancer just five days earlier.

 

The late choreographer Pina Bausch (Photo by Donata Wenders courtesy f56)

 

Wenders described his reaction to the shocking news to Lambert:

I cancelled the film. Just pulled the plug. It just seemed completely obsolete. It was out of the question that I would continue without her. I just dropped the idea and announced to everybody that it was over.

My mind was changed by the dancers. It was the dancers who had continued to perform….Two months after Pina died they actually started to rehearse the pieces that Pina and I had selected for the film. That’s when they told me “We’re rehearsing them, and we feel that Pina is still in these, and who knows what can happen? It might be the last time we are doing this. You know how much Pina wanted to shoot this with you, how eager she was to see this new language that you told her about, so we really think you should reconsider your decision. We really think you should film. That’s what Pina would have wanted.”

And I realized that they were right. I realized that the decision to cancel the film had been wrong. Not in the sense of our 20 years, but I realized that the film was maybe even more potent for the dancers than for Pina, or her homage, because they really needed a way to deal with that loss. They were performing and they continued performing but they felt there was this huge hole and they had no outlet for it. They needed to say goodbye and they needed to say thank you, and me too. Together maybe, by doing this, that was a way to do so. And then we really decided to go for it, to start a film that would definitely be very different than the film that we had planned before.

 

A still from Wim Wenders’ Pina (Photo © Neue Road Movies GmbH. A Sundance Selects Release. Click to Enlarge)

 

I will confess that dance is one of my weak points. As I told a dance enthusiast and friend after a performance in New York, I’m not always certain that I have the language and knowledge I need to fully appreciate it. But he encouraged me to stop being so cerebral and to go with my gut. “You will know great dance when you see it,” he said. “Trust me. You’ll feel like your entire world had been altered.”

And this is exactly how I felt while watching Pina. The gestures may be abstract or surreal at times, and yet I understood them instinctually. These movements are confessional, raw, and intensely personal. It isn’t quite ballet, nor is it simply “modern dance.” Bausch fittingly called her art “Dance Theater,” a term that goes back to Weimar Republic cabaret of the 1920s.

 

A still from Wim Wenders’ Pina (Photo © Neue Road Movies GmbH. A Sundance Selects Release. Click to Enlarge)

 

 

A still from Wim Wenders’ Pina (Photo © Neue Road Movies GmbH. A Sundance Selects Release. Click to Enlarge)

 

Bausch’s work burrows into universal themes like brutality, fragility, desire, and personal relationships. There is sense of shared humanity in Bausch’s choreography, a feeling that is only reinforced by the international diversity of her dancers.

Even without Bausch’s presence, Wenders has created a breathtaking and sophisticated piece of cinema. He weaves footage of the company’s productions of Café MüllerLe Sacre du printempsVollmond, and Kontakthof with archival footage of Bausch, and short solo performances by the dancers. Partway through the film it becomes clear that these solo pieces are eulogies for Pina Bausch, the perfect way for the dancers to say farewell and give tribute to their mentor.

Bausch was known for her method of “questioning” her dancers during rehearsals. Her dancers, in turn, “answered not in words, but with improvised dance and body language.” The goal was not to focus on technique as much as to make the dancers “feel what each gesture means internally.”

 

A still from Wim Wenders’ Pina (Photo © Neue Road Movies GmbH. A Sundance Selects Release. Click to Enlarge)

 

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Envisioning the Future with Yo La Tengo, R. Buckminster Fuller, & Sam Green

 

Sam Green narrating his live documentary The Love Song of R. Buckminster Fuller at the Institute of Contemporary Art in Boston (Photo by Sam Allison)

 

“I live on Earth at present, and I don’t know what I am. I know that I am not a category. I am not a thing—a noun. I seem to be a verb, an evolutionary process—an integral function of the universe.”

–R. Buckminster Fuller

 

 

In 1927 designer, architect, and inventor R. Buckminster Fuller was contemplating suicide on the shore of Lake Michigan, when he had an epiphany:

“The thought then came that my impulse to commit suicide was a consequence of my being expressly overconcerned with ‘me’ and ‘my pains,’ and that doing so would mean that I would be making the supremely selfish mistake of possibly losing forever some evolutionary information link essential to the ultimately realization of the as-yet-to-be-known human function in Universe.”

According to legend, Fuller decided to “throw away” his “personal ego” instead of committing suicide, and use himself “as a scientific `guinea pig’… on behalf of all humanity.” He resolved to “make the world work for one hundred percent of humanity, in the shortest possible time, through spontaneous cooperation, without ecological offense or the disadvantage of anyone.”

At least that is the story as Fuller told it.

Although he grew up in an elite New England family, he flunked out of Harvard (twice), worked as a meatpacker, and served in the Navy before reinventing himself as a philosopher, engineer, writer, inventor, and lecturer. Never content to work in only one field, Fuller, or “Bucky” as his friends called him, embraced an interdisciplinary approach to global problems like poverty, shelter, transportation, education, energy, and ecological destruction. By the time of his death in 1983, Fuller held 28 patents, had authored 28 books, and received 47 honorary degrees.

 

F. Buckminster Fuller has influenced everyone from Pritzker Prize–winning architect Thom Mayne to Stewart Brand, creator of The Whole Earth Catalog and The WELLone of the oldest virtual communities. (Photo by Roger Stroller)

 

 

Part TED Talk, part travelogue, and part Japanese benshi, Sam Green’s “live documentary,” The Love Song of R. Buckminster Fuller, was like no other film screening I’ve been to. (Photo by Michelle Aldredge)

 

But neither Fuller’s biography, nor his legacy are simple.

“If you really look for the details of his life at the time, it’s easy to see that the suicide story was a creation,” Stanford historian Barry Katz told the New York Times in 2008.

“There was nothing even remotely in the archives suggesting feelings on the scale he later described” in 1927, he said…

Mr. Katz said he found instead signs of depression and anxiety stretching from the time…[Fuller's] first daughter, Alexandra, died in 1922, through his financial failures and, finally, the collapse of a torrid extramarital romance in 1931. Still, he said, the suicide story seemed to serve a purpose.

“That’s why I now call it a myth,” [said Katz,] “but it was an effective myth. It gave a trajectory to his career. The story was constructed after the fact to show how he suddenly developed these new ideas. I think he came to believe the story himself…”

In recurrent dark periods Fuller was not trying only to persuade others his ideas were important, but to persuade himself that he mattered….

Supporting that view is [the late] Evelyn Schwartz Nef. “Those days were really quite exciting because he was so convincing that he was trying to save the world,” she said in an interview…“The question I had is whether he was as convinced as we were. He was trying to reassure himself that he was something.”

 

Buckminster Fuller in his Black Mountain College studio (Photo courtesy of SFMoMA)

 

 

Sam Green and Yo La Tengo performing the “live documentary” The Love Song of R. Buckminster Fuller at the ICA in Boston (Photo by Sam Allison. Click to Enlarge)

 

As James Sterngold writes in the New York Times, “by conventional measures…[Fuller] accomplished little. The efforts to mass-produce his houses, though written about widely, failed. His project to develop his efficient three-wheeled autos collapsed after an accident killed the driver of one. His soaring geodesic domes, built with a distinctive pattern of triangles, have been used — memorably for the United States pavilion at Expo 67 in Montreal — but never for the large-scale projects he envisioned.”

Mention Fuller’s name to a group of artists and architects and you’re likely to be bombarded with passionate responses from both supporters and detractors.

Philip Johnson once called Fuller a “lousy architect,” and Fuller’s vision for Manhattan provoked this response from one architect I know: “Fuller envisioned covering mid-town Manhattan by an enormous climate-controlled bubble. How in the world is that an environmental improvement? It would have consumed enormous amounts of energy, contributing immensely to air pollution and global warming. And the prospect of enclosing city dwellers in a bubble, cut off from wind and rain and sun and the play of the elements, is something that I find horrifying…I’m very suspicious of big universal theories, like those of Fuller, when it comes to architecture.”

But Fuller’s impact can’t be discounted. He has influenced everyone from Pritzker Prize–winning architect Thom Mayne to Stewart Brand, creator of The Whole Earth Catalog and The WELL, one of the oldest virtual communities.

 

“Bucky…looked at the world big-scale, in terms of the number of people who didn’t have enough to eat,” architect Nicholas Grimshaw says. “He talked about the really big issues, like food and water and shelter. And that’s really just coming home to roost. Everything he wrote then he could have written right now.”

 

 

The Dymaxion House as presented by Buckminster Fuller in Fortune magazine in July of 1932 (Click to Enlarge)

 

 

Buckminster Fuller and Shoji Sadao Dome Over Manhattan, 1960. Black-and-white photograph mounted on board, 13 3/4 x 18 3/8″ Department of Special Collections, Stanford University Libraries (Image courtesy the Estate of R. Buckminster Fuller)

 

As K. Michael Hays, Eliot Noyes Professor of Architectural Theory at the Harvard University Graduate School of Design, explained to me via email, focusing too much attention on Fuller’s popularization of the geodesic dome or his idea to shroud the city of Manhattan in a bubble misses the point. According to Hayes, Fuller made other contributions that are still relevant today, if we can look past the outdated designs and cultural critique:

The current generation of artists and architects who rediscover Buckminster Fuller will not be inspired by his structural inventions or cultural critique but by his spatial modeling of a globalized system of pattern and contingency, organization and change, temporary stability and constant renewal. That is his legacy.

“Bucky…looked at the world big-scale, in terms of the number of people who didn’t have enough to eat,” architect Nicholas Grimshaw says. “He talked about the really big issues, like food and water and shelter. And that’s really just coming home to roost. Everything he wrote then he could have written right now.”

“Fuller was the original systems thinker, with regards to the ecology of a building and its relationship to the environment,” explains artist, designer, and engineer Chuck Hoberman:

When he asked, ‘How much does your building weigh?’ it immediately put it into the realm of material usage and embodied energy, all of which are now very hot topics of discussion—not driven by stylistic concern, but simply by the need to make buildings more sustainable. His work framed a lot of those issues very early on…

I think he’s been highly influential as an iconoclastic spirit, who never accepted that the boundaries between disciplines were anything other than something to be climbed over or circumvented in some way. To me that’s not so much a heroic stance as much as a very practical way to proceed in the world today.

 

Whether R. Buckminster Fuller was visionary or naive in his beliefs is one of the subjects that interests Sam Green, a genre-bending artist in his own right. (Photo by Sam Allison)

 

 

Fuller’s sketch of a Three-Frequency Geodesic Sphere. Felt-tip pen and graphite on paper, 8 1/2 x 10 1/4 in. Department of Special Collections, Stanford University Libraries (Photograph by Ben Blackwell courtesy the Estate of R. Buckminster Fuller)

 

 

“At many other points in history…people had high hopes and a great imagintion for the future. You remember: we’d all be living in space, or flying around using jetpacks, or robots would be doing all the work for us. Today, it seems to me that most people don’t look at the future with fancy or hope or a great imagination.” (Photo by Sam Allison)

 

We live in a dystopian age—one more interested in zombies from The Walking Dead and Cormac McCarthy’s grim, apocalyptic vision than in slick, futuristic fantasies about jet-packs and cars that drive themselves. “There are too many of us who wonder whether civilization is going to make it or not,” former Vice-President Al Gore commented in a recent interview. “When people flirt with despair about the future, they are less likely to take the actions necessary to safeguard it.”

In marked contrast, R. Buckminster Fuller believed that cooperation, not competition, was the key to a better life, and he remained optimistic about humanity’s future. ”It no longer has to be you or me,” Fuller wrote in Critical Path. “Selfishness is unnecessary and hence-forth unrationalizable.”

Whether R. Buckminster Fuller was visionary or naive in his beliefs is one of the subjects that interests Sam Green, a genre-bending artist in his own right.

It’s fitting that a multi-media artist like Green should tackle an enigma like Fuller, while accompanied by the live music of a critically-acclaimed, three-piece band that also defies categorization. Part TED Talk, part travelogue, and part Japanese benshiThe Love Song of R. Buckminster Fuller was like no other film screening I’ve been to, with Green narrating a special cut of his film (created for his Boston audience), while the intoxicating sounds of Yo La Tengo pulsed through the glass-walled auditorium. As writer Rebecca Solnit described the experience, it’s like “a movie being born as you see it and hear it, as alive as music.”

 

“It’s really exciting to perform this way,” Yo La Tengo band member Georgia Hubley told me via email. “You feel like you are a piece of something bigger and doing your part. It is different than presenting yourself as a band with songs etc., which is more personal.” (Yo La Tengo photo by Ed Dittenhoefer courtesy Sam Green)

 

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Jean Cocteau’s Beauty and the Beast : More Than Meets the Eye

 

 

Last night a friend and I watched Jean Cocteau’s 1946 film La Belle et la Bête (Beauty and the Beast) for the very first time. Luckily, we were able to see the restored version of this French masterpiece on the big screen.

It is hard to remember just how radical and audacious this film was when it was released in post-war France in 1946. Purge any memories of Disney’s singing, dancing candlestick and teapot, for this is a film for adults more than children. Cocteau employs his tableware for more suggestive purposes (Belle “toys with a knife that is more than a knife,” observes Roger Ebert). Cocteau’s fairy-tale fantasy is teeming with such symbolism.

There are many elements of the film that may prove challenging for contemporary film-goers: the exaggerated stage acting and pantomime, and the hairy Chewbacca costume, which was cutting edge in its day, can be difficult to overlook at times. Cocteau was brought up on late 19th century French melodrama, and it shows. Yet his highly original fantasy transcends its era, and there is much in his film to relish.

Cocteau was a poet, painter, playwright, actor, novelist, and set designer, as well as a filmmaker, and his Beauty and the Beast is more like visual poetry than a traditional film narrative. The dialogue is spare, but the scenery lavish.

 

A still from Jean Cocteau’s 1946 film La Belle et la Bête

 

 

Purge any memories of Disney’s singing and dancing candlestick and teapot, for this is a film for adults more than children. Cocteau employs  his tableware for more suggestive purposes (Belle “toys with a knife that is more than a knife,” observes Roger Ebert).

 

 

 

 

The opening credits for La Belle et la Bête

 

 

Cocteau’s implores his audience to suspend disbelief–to watch the film as a child would. Just as the opening credits on the chalkboard are erased, and the shot of the erasable clapperboard stopped, the filmmaker asks us to erase our preconceptions and expectations.

 

Cocteau even manages to make the opening credits memorable by presenting them on a chalkboard and then erasing them. The film opens with a crew-member holding a clapperboard to mark the start of the scene, but this shot comes to an abrupt halt as Cocteau interrupts to give instructions to his audience:

Children believe what we tell them. They have complete faith in us. They believe that a rose plucked from a garden can plunge a family into conflict. They believe that the hands of a human beast will smoke when he slays a victim, and that this will cause him shame when a young maiden takes up residence in his home. They believe a thousand other simple things.

I ask of you a little of this childlike sympathy and, to bring us luck, let me speak four truly magic words, childhood’s “Open Sesame”:

Once upon a time…

Cocteau’s implores his audience to suspend disbelief—to watch the film as a child would. Just as the opening credits on the chalkboard are erased, and the shot of the erasable clapperboard stopped, the filmmaker asks us to erase our preconceptions and expectations.

 

 

 

 
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Art On the Radar : Gwarlingo’s Don’t-Miss List for September

 

British Street artist Slinkachu left this miniature “Hanging On” in the streets of Hong Kong. It’s one of the many images on view in his New York and London show, Global Model Village. (Photo © Slinkachu courtesy the artist)


 
The invitations, event notices, emails, and review copies are pouring in. The fall arts season has officially arrived. If only I could clone myself, then perhaps, I’d have a chance of catching even a handful of these concerts, openings, and shows.

I wish I could attend everything listed here, but since I can’t, I hope you’ll venture out in the coming weeks and report back on what you loved (and what you didn’t).

Here is my completely biased Don’t-Miss List for the coming month (in no particular order).

If I’ve overlooked an event you think Gwarlingo readers would enjoy, feel free to add your event to the Comments section below or to the Gwarlingo Facebook page.

 
 

Slinkachu in London and New York

British street artist Slinkachu (a favorite here at Gwarlingo) is celebrating the launch of his new book with two solo shows in London and New York. Global Model Village opens to the public September 27th at Andipa Gallery in London and runs until October 27th. There will also be a pop-up show in New York City from October 3rd through the 7th. Both shows will feature new work shot in different cities around the world.

 

 
Also be sure to check out Slinkachu‘s new book Global Model Village: The International Street Art of Slinkachu, which collects together images of installations the street artist has left in cities around the world, including New York, Moscow, Cape Town, Beijing, Berlin, Hong Kong and, of course, his hometown of London. The books is available in UK, US, and German editions. There will also be a Japanese version released in the new year by Sogensha (図書出版 創元社), along with a Japanese version of Slinkachu’s original book. 驚くべき.

 

 

 

John Kelly in 1993 as Cocteau in Light Shall Lift Them (Photo by Rick Gillette courtesy John Kelly)

John Kelly at Joe’s Pub in New York City

When performance artist-actor-writer-video artist-singer-dancer John Kelly is scheduled to perform, count me in. Kelly has the reputation as an artist’s artist. Over the years, he has worked with everyone from Nan Goldin to Antony and the Johnsons and James Franco. His work is so daring and original it can be difficult to boil down to a bite-sized blurb. He has received numerous awards, including Obies, Bessies, and The Rome Prize (a testament to how diverse his work is). If you don’t know Kelly’s work yet, keep him on your radar. I’m building an entire New York trip around his upcoming cabaret performances at Joe’s Pub. Seeing Kelly perform is always revelatory.
 

John Kelly (Photo by Billy Erb courtesy John Kelly)


John Kelly makes his solo Joe’s Pub debut performing songs by Kurt Weill, Charles Aznavour, Holcombe Waller, Richard Einhorn, The Incredible String Band and Richard Thompson, among others. Tickets are $20. Performances are October 14th, October 28th, and November 4th. Visit the Joe’s Pub website for more information or to purchase tickets. You can also read more about the show on John Kelly’s Facebook event page.

 

 

 

OPERAtion Brooklyn 2012. Back Row: Zach Redler, Sidney Marquez Boquiren, Daniel Neer, Kayleigh Butcher, Daniel Felsenfeld. Front Row: Sara Cooper, Noah Himmelstein. (Photo by Meghan Hickey courtesy of American Opera Projects)

OPERAtion Brooklyn Brings Opera to The BEAT Festival

American Opera Projects and Opera on Tap’s acclaimed series returns for a new showcase of operatic works from and inspired by Brooklyn.

Composer Daniel Felsenfeld will premiere A Genuine Willingness to Help (Book I), the first installment in the composer’s “Author Project,” which features music and multi-media performance based on texts by living writers and songwriters, such as Rick Moody, Jonathan Lethem, Stephen Elliott, and Fiona Maazel. Felsenfeld’s Raw Footage: Composer’s Cut, based on Robert Coover’s novel The Adventures of Lucky Pierre: Director’s Cut, is also on the program, along with Stop and Frisk by composer Sidney Marquez Boquiren and librettist Daniel Neer and Male Identity by composer Zach Redler and librettist Sara Cooper.
 

Topping off the program are four songs drawn from One Ring Zero’s album As Smart As We Are (The Author Project). Viggo Mortensen (yes, that Viggo Mortensen) calls these “mysterious pop songs,” arranged for piano and chamber ensemble by Michael Hearst and Joshua Camp,  “…a well-orchestrated booby trap for music lovers everywhere…“ The works feature texts by Margaret Atwood, Neil Gaiman, Isa Chandra Moskowitz, and David Wondrich.

OPERAtion Brooklyn is part of the first annual BEAT Festival. BEAT creates a platform to celebrate Brooklyn’s finest performing artists, ”extraordinary world-class performers who stand as the greatest innovators of the performing arts,” says festival artistic director Stephen Shelley. From September 12-23, artists will perform in venues throughout the borough. For complete information and festival passes visit www.beatbrooklyn.com.

Individual tickets for OPERAtion Brooklyn are $20 (passes to the entire BEAT Festival are also available). There will be three opportunities to see this special OPERAtion Brooklyn performance:
 

Thursday, Sept. 13 – 7:30 PM
Flatbush Reformed Church
890 Flatbush Avenue, Flatbush

 

Wednesday, Sept. 19 – 7:30 PM
Brooklyn Conservatory of Music
58 7th Avenue, Park Slope

 

Saturday, Sept. 22 – 7:30 PM
The Irondale Center
85 S. Oxford Street, Ft Greene

 

 

 

Andrew Ohanesian’s The House Party under construction at Pierogi’s The Boiler (Photo by Will Femia courtesy ny.curbed.com)

Andrew Ohanesian’s The House Party at Pierogi’s The Boiler in Williamsburg

Artist Andrew Ohanesian is fascinated with art that imitates reality. He’s built a confessional-booth-sized bar for one (with beer on tap), a row house  and a fully stocked, walk-in, refrigerated cooler (installed at English Kills Art Gallery). For his latest work, The House Party, Ohanesian has constructed a full-sized suburban home inside Pierogi’s satellite gallery, The Boiler, a former factory boiler room with 40 foot ceilings located at 191 N. 14th St. in Willisamburg.

Ohanesian’s house will be opened up to the public for a house party on September 14th, the opening night of the exhibition. In this at once creative and destructive act, the artist enlists the audience to provide the final element of the work itself, giving each viewer the unique opportunity to physically leave his or her own scar on the House, by partying within it throughout the evening. You can see an animation of the house in this video:
 


 
As Stephen Truax reported on Hyperallergic, “depending on New York Fire Department’s ruling on the certificate of occupancy, visitors may or may not have to sign a waiver to enter the space. However, if you do get in, you will enjoy a functional bathroom and kitchen with plumbing (as well as, thankfully, ventilation), a working stove (including an oven hood), dishwasher, fridge (complete with water dispenser), garbage disposal, 94,000 BTUs of AC cooling power, dish cable, and wifi.”

There will be a lot of openings to choose from the night of the 14th, but be sure to put this one on the must-see list.

Andrew Ohanesian’s The House Party is on view at Pierogi’s The Boiler at 191 North 14th Street in Brooklyn September 14th-November 18th.

 

 

 

Fred Hersch Trio at the Village Vanguard and On Tour

Composer and pianist Fred Hersch’s return to jazz after several months in an AIDS-related coma was nothing short of miraculous. (You can hear Hersch discuss his illness and recovery with Fresh Air’s Terry Gross here). Hersch is back with a new tour, a new album, and is better than ever.

The Grammy-nominated performer is currently performing at the Village Vanguard with his trio, John Hébert on bass and Eric McPherson on drums, to celebrate the release of his new two-disk CD, Alive at the Vanguard. Recorded in February 2012, the new album contains seven new Hersch compositions, as well as music by Coleman, Kern, Porter and Monk.

I’ve seen Hersch perform over seven times now, and he never disappoints. If you can’t catch The Fred Hersch Trio for their six-night performance at the Village Vanguard in New York, you can also see them on tour this September in Boston, Chicago, D.C., Baltimore, and Cincinnati. Tour dates and venues are listed below. You can listen to tracks off the new album right here:

 


 

You can purchase a copy of the Fred Hersch Trio’s new album Alive at the Vanguard from Amazon or iTunes. (A portion of your purchase will benefit Gwarlingo).

 

The Fred Hersch Trio’s U.S. Tour Dates:
 
Tuesday-Sunday Sept 11th-16th: Village Vanguard, NYC
Wednesday September 19th: Scullers, Boston, MA
Thursday-Sunday September 20th-23rd: Jazz Showcase, Chicago IL
Monday-Tuesday September 24th-25th: Blue Wisp, Cincinnati OH
Thursday, September 27th: Blues Alley, Washington, DC
Friday September 28th: An Die Musik Live, Baltimore, MD

 

 

 

Tatzu Nishi’s Discovering Columbus in New York City

Thanks to the Public Art Fund, Japanese artist Tatzu Nishi has created a different kind of “house party” at Columbus Circle in Manhattan. Discovering Columbus places the 13-foot-tall statue of Columbus in the center of an American living room six stories above the city streets, temporarily transforming it into a contemporary artwork. According to the Public Art Fund website, the room will feature many of the trappings of a domestic living room—lamps, a couch, a coffee table, a television, and more—as well as custom wallpaper by the artist. Through large, loft-style windows, visitors will have dramatic views of Central Park and Midtown Manhattan that will be seen from Columbus’s perspective for the first time.

Tatzu Nishi’s Discovering Columbus (Photo courtesy of the artist and the Public Art Fund, NY)

In a stroke of genius, the Public Art Fund is simultaneously overseeing the conservation of the 1892 Columbus Monument in cooperation with the New York City Department of Parks & Recreation. The scaffolding supporting Nishi’s living room is allowing conservators to access the column and figure at its top. The restoration is expected to be completed by January of 2013. (Why can’t all government bureaucracies be this creative with their resources?)

Over 100,000 people are expected to visit the installation, which is on view from September 20th through November 18th.

Tickets to climb six stories to this home-away-from-home are free, but must be booked in advance. (Elevator access is available for those who require special assistance.) Register for free tickets at the Public Art website.

 

 

 

Norman Mooney, Series 4 No. 1, 2007. Carbon on aluminum panel, 72 x 144 inches. (Photo courtesy the artist and Causey Contemporary)

Norman Mooney’s Close Your Eyes at Causey Contemporary in Williamsburg

If you’re in Williamsburg Friday night to catch the opening of Andrew Ohanesian’s The House Party, stop by Causey Contemporary for Norman Mooney’s solo show of monumental carbon smoke drawings, Close Your Eyes. The Irish artist’s carbon drawings are created with layers of billowing smoke preserved on aluminum panel and have both a physical and metaphysical presence.

Causey Contemporary is located at 92 Wythe Avenue in Brooklyn. The gallery will be participating in the Williamsburg Gallery Association‘s Every Second Friday on September 14, 2012 from 6-10 p.m. along with Art101, Figureworks, Front Room, Gitana Rosa, Parker’s Box, Pierogi, P339, Skink Ink Editions, T.A.P.S. Gallery, The Boiler, Ventana 244 and Williamsburg Art and Historical Society. Galleries will be open late and the wine and cheese will be in heavy supply. More information is available at the Causey Contemporary website.

 
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Being André Gregory : Before and After Dinner

 

Self-portraits by actor and theatre director André Gregory (Photo courtesy Atlas Theatre Company)

 

We gathered around André Gregory like children eagerly assembling around the librarian for story hour. André perched in a picture window inside Winsome Brown and Claude Arpels’ fashionable Tribeca apartment. Behind him, the sun was setting over the Hudson River. On the wall hung a series of striking self-portraits by Gregory.

We were gathered in Tribeca with some of André’s closest friends and supporters to hear the legendary raconteur tell stories. The event was also a party for Before and After Dinner, a new documentary about Gregory directed by his wife, filmmaker Cindy Kleine. The genuine affection the guests felts for André was palpable as he moved around the room embracing old friends and asking questions of acquaintances and strangers. The passion, empathy, and sincerity Gregory radiates on screen also comes through in person, a fact that is quite remarkable when you consider André’s personal history.

“How many of you have seen the film The Shining?” he asked. “That’s a documentary about my childhood,” André said with a laugh. And he wasn’t kidding.

On May 18, 2009, the opening day of Wally Shawn’s Grasses of a Thousand Colors in London, which was directed by Gregory, André received a disturbing phone call from his brother, who informed him of a document implicating their prominent Jewish father as an economic spy for Hitler. The next day, André came down with a severe case of shingles.

As André told us that evening in Tribeca, most people would have balked at receiving word that their father was potentially a Nazi collaborator, but in his case, the disturbing revelation, while unexpected, was not unbelievable. The quest to confirm or disprove this shocking story would become the centerpiece of Kleine’s film. The filmmaker’s marriage to André placed her in a unique position to capture intimate stories about Gregory’s dysfunctional childhood—stories that took on new meaning in light of his brother’s discovery.

 

As André told us that evening in Tribeca, most people would have balked at receiving word that their father was potentially a Nazi collaborator, but in his case, the disturbing revelation, while unexpected, was not unbelievable. (Still from Before and After Dinner courtesy Cindy Kleine and Atlas Theatre Company)

 

 

André Gregory and his father (Photo courtesy Cindy Kleine and Atlas Theatre Company)

 

As Klein’s documentary reveals, André’s parents were “Jews who forgot to tell their kids they were Jews.” Fugitives from Stalinist Russia and Nazi Germany, the family was on the last ship to leave England before the war began. Looking back, André’s family was often one step ahead of the Nazis, a fact that raises further questions about his father’s connections with Hitler. The fact that Hitler’s foreign minister also visited his parents’ home was another worrying piece of the family puzzle.

During our evening together, André described his father as “non-human”—a manic depressive with “no empathy.” His parents would leave André and his brother in the care of a babysitter, then disappear. Instead of returning home as scheduled or sending home news of their whereabouts or travel plans, they would send money. Once, when André’s mother was passing a woman and child in the street, she declared, “What a beautiful baby!” The woman answered, “But Madam, he’s yours.” ”My Nanny saved me,” Gregory told us.

His happiest times were in Beverly Hills in the 1940s, where the family lived in a lavish house with a plastic driveway lit from below. André remembers Charlie Chaplin visiting regularly. One afternoon Marlene Dietrich and Greta Garbo played tennis in his backyard, a doubles match against Thomas Mann and Errol Flynn. According to rumors, his mother had an affair with Errol Flynn.

“I know when I die, you’ll dance on my grave,” André’s mother once chided the family. “It was so true,” Gregory explained, “no one knew what to say.”

Gregory grew up in an overly formal household where people said horrible things about the people they loved most. As a child, André was never touched, hugged, or shown any sort of physical affection. An attractive girl once kissed the teenage Gregory in a graveyard and he fainted in shock.

 

André riding an alligator (Photo courtesy Cindy Kleine and Atlas Theatre Company)


 

It was his desire to heal his parent’s unhappiness and dysfunction that honed his role as the family caretaker, a role he has also assumed within his theatre company. “If you go into the theater,” his mother once told him, “your father will have a heart attack. He’s already had one.” As a boy, Gregory longed to have a magic wand to fix his father. “I wanted to persuade him that his life was really beautiful,” Gregory reveals in an intimate moment in Before and After Dinner. “You have such a nice life…wonderful friends…you’re so well off.”

Most people know André Gregory through his critically acclaimed film My Dinner with André (or, from the other end of the film spectrum, as the warden who has his eye gouged out by Wesley Snipes in Demolition Man). Gregory has had numerous film acting roles. He played John the Baptist in Scorsese’s Last Temptation of Christ and appeared in Woody Allen’s Celebrity and Peter Weir’s The Mosquito Coast. Louis Malle, Wallace Shawn, and Gregory also collaborated on the film Vanya on 42nd Street with Julianne Moore. Kleine told me that Gregory is frequently recognized on the streets of New York, but his celebrity is of a peculiar sort. Those who recognize him from My Dinner with André often approach Gregory “with gracious awe, the way one approaches a great rabbi or teacher.”
 

Andre Gregory in 1965  (Photo courtesy Cindy Kleine and Atlas Theatre Company)

 

 

Performing is really about “the art of being,” says André. To inhabit such a place as an actor, writer, or director requires both space and a sense of safety, an atmosphere Gregory is clearly skilled at creating within his company. (Photos courtesy Cindy Kleine and Atlas Theatre Company)


 
But Gregory’s impact on the art world extends far beyond these high-profile acting roles. In the theatre world, André Gregory is revered as a master storyteller, an influential teacher, and as a visionary director who believes that the role of theatre is to awaken the audience and make them question themselves and the world around them (no small goal). For Gregory, this means keeping audiences small and venues intimate. “What happens in these small spaces because of their intimacy,” Kleine explained, ”is that audience members become active participants in the ritual being performed.” In the same way that chamber music loses its impact in an oversized concert hall, live theatre can also lose its effectiveness if a venue is too large.

From the very beginning of his career, Gregory had a fresh and personal approach to theatre. Deeply influenced by both Brecht and Tarkovsky, he is one of the original creators of the regional and off-Broadway theatre movements. His legendary, Obie-winning production of Alice in Wonderland played in New York for seven years. “People screamed during the play like a roller coaster,” Shawn told Noah Baumbach in an interview. It was “thrilling.” Alice toured the U.S., Middle East, and Europe and was eventually made into a book in collaboration with photographer Richard Avedon.

Gregory often says that Alice in Wonderland is a “portrait of his own childhood.” Alice is born into this terrifying, insane world and is simply traveling around trying to make sense of things, but she never gets a direct answer to her questions.
 

Richard Avedon’s 1973 book Alice in Wonderland: The Forming of a Company and the Making of a Play (Photo © Richard Avedon courtesy the Richard Avedon Foundation. Click to Enlarge)

 

 

Deeply influenced by both Brecht and Tarkovsky, Gregory is one of the original creators of the regional and off-Broadway theatre movements. (Photo courtesy grotowski.net)


 
Kleine’s film gives us a rare look at how a childhood can shape the creative life of an artist. But be forewarned, this is not a traditional documentary. To better understand Kleine’s approach, it’s useful to revisit My Dinner with André, for Before and After Dinner is really a companion piece to the much-discussed, art-house hit from 1981. If My Dinner with Andre gives its audience a glimpse of “André the Character,” Before and After Dinner addresses the gap between fiction and reality by giving us a taste of “André Gregory the Man.” Both films ask versions of the same question: “Who exactly is André Gregory?”

Directed by French filmmaker Louis Malle, My Dinner with André was a radical concept in 1981 and remains so today. The entire 110-minute movie depicts a conversation between André Gregory and his friend Wally Shawn during dinner in a chic Manhattan restaurant. The two friends talk about experimental theater, love, work, money, spirituality, and the nature of life itself. There are no flashbacks depicted on screen, only verbal exchanges like these between André and Wally:

André: What does it do to us, Wally, living in an environment where something as massive as the seasons or winter or cold, don’t in any way affect us? I mean, were animals after all. I mean… what does that mean? I think that means that instead of living under the sun and the moon and the sky and the stars, we’re living in a fantasy world of our own making.

Wally: Yeah, but I mean, I would never give up my electric blanket, Andre. I mean, because New York is cold in the winter. I mean, our apartment is cold! It’s a difficult environment. I mean, our life is tough enough as it is. I’m not looking for ways to get rid of a few things that provide relief and comfort. I mean, on the contrary, I’m looking for more comfort because the world is very abrasive. I mean, I’m trying to protect myself because, really, there’s these abrasive beatings to be avoided everywhere you look!

André: But, Wally, don’t you see that comfort can be dangerous? I mean, you like to be comfortable and I like to be comfortable too, but comfort can lull you into a dangerous tranquility.

 

My Dinner with André “is about men, because men tend to be so hidden,” says Gregory. “And Wally is hiding behind silence. I’m hiding behind words. The progress of the movie is that Wally is able to come out and start revealing and I’m able to to listen…These were radical actions as characters.”

 

 

(Photos courtesy Cindy Kleine and Atlas Theatre Company)


 
For six months Shawn and Gregory met in a room at NYU to work on the project. Each session began with André telling Wally a story. By the time they ended these regular meetings, the typed transcript from their conversations was over 1500 single-spaced pages. Shawn spent more than a year wading through the transcript identifying central themes that could be used in the screenplay. From these themes, he crafted a three-hour script comprised entirely of fragments from his real conversations with Gregory. Malle, Shawn, and Gregory then edited the script down to a two hour film. Malle was able to trim My Dinner with André down to 110 minutes in the editing room.

They shot the film in the then-abandoned Jefferson Hotel in Richmond, Virginia. Because heating the immense building was too expensive, the crew ran heaters in between takes. Gregory says he wore long-johns and kept an electric blanket on his lap during the shoot (a funny irony in light of the above dialogue).

If it’s been a while since you’ve seen My Dinner with André, I encourage you to watch it again, for it’s one of those classic pieces of cinema that only improves and expands with time. It’s one of the few films I know that investigates the cinematic potential of language. Gregory discusses this idea further with Noah Baumbach in a DVD interview for Criterion. In the late 70s and early 80s, we were living in a time “when no one was talking…in depth. It was all…very superficial. If I had one goal with this movie, it was to hopefully activate people to talk again.”

For Gregory, My Dinner with André “is as big as Lawrence of Arabia or Cleopatra” because the film takes the viewer to Tibet and the Polish forest, but each viewer sees his own Tibet, his own Polish forest.” My Dinner with André is a radical piece of cinema because it isn’t doing everything for you as a viewer. Instead, it’s activating your imagination. “If you like the movie,” Gregory explains to Baumbach, “it’s waking you up, which was one of the intentions of the movie.”

“The film is about men, because men tend to be so hidden,” Gregory adds. “And Wally is hiding behind silence. I’m hiding behind words. The progress of the movie is that Wally is able to come out and start revealing and I’m able to to listen…These were radical actions as characters.”

 

 

In Baumbach’s interview with Wally Shawn, the playwright agrees with his friend’s description. ”The film is about being asleep and waking up. Are you just crawling through your life like a mole…? Are you not observing what’s going on in your own life and not letting your consciousness speak to you?” Shawn is also quick to point out what is NOT overtly stated in the film: political consciousness. My Dinner with André depicts “two upper-class guys spending hours talking about life, while others are working and suffering,” says Shawn. “I wanted to kill that side of myself by making the film because that guy is totally motivated by fear and he’s defending himself and he is the bourgeois human being.”

In his conversation with Baumbach, Gregory says that there was one question that initially vexed him during the making of the film: Who exactly am I? In My Dinner with André he is playing a character based on himself. But even in real life the André that his doctor sees is completely different from the André his wife knows. Gregory’s breakthrough came when he got the idea for using four different voices in the film:

1. André the Peter Brook theatre guru

2. André the off-the-wall, spacey, dilettante rich kid

3. André the spiritual used car salesman

4. And André  when he is being sincere, as seen in the last part of the film

If Malle’s movie gives us these four sides of André Gregory the character, Cindy Kleine’s documentary Before and After Dinner fills in the gaps with intimate glimpses of André the loving husband, the loyal friend, the searching son, the patient director, the encouraging father figure. In many ways the films are two sides of one coin, or of one man in this case.

 

(Still from Before and After Dinner courtesy Cindy Kleine and Atlas Theatre Company)

 

Kleine’s dual role as wife and director gives us a unique perspective on André. We see him in some of his most intimate moments—making breakfast, bending over a steam inhaler, frolicking naked in a hot tub with a puffy shower cap on his head. It’s hard to imagine that such moments could have been captured by anyone other than his wife. To see a public figure letting relaxing and letting his guard down is a scarce thing in documentary film. Watching such scenes only confirms the impression I had upon meeting André in person: this is a man who has a passion for living, someone who appreciates life’s fragility. “He is a man who is not afraid to step into his own life,” says Kleine, “and is, therefore a rare and precious bird.”

Before and After Dinner is really a love story of sorts, for it captures something exceedingly uncommon in the movies: a happy marriage. “The only two films I can think of that depict happy marriages are Mrs. Miniver from 1942 and Mike Leigh’s Another Year,” Kleine told me over the phone this week. “But unhappy marriages…There are plenty of films about miserable relationships.”

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What’s the Future of Dance? Ivy Baldwin’s “Ambient Cowboy” Provides a Clue

 

Ivy Baldwin's new dance piece "Ambient Cowboy" included a live set design by MacArthur Fellow Anna Schuleit (Photo by Nafis Azad)

If you want to catch a glimpse of where dance and performance are headed, look no further than Ivy Baldwin’s Ambient Cowboy, on view last week at New York Live Arts.

It is fitting that a dance piece inspired by Philip Johnson’s famous Glass House should have a set design made of light. And not just any light—but a ribbon of light that glides over wall, floor, and dancers, then suddenly vanishes.

If this set design technique has been used extensively in a dance performance before now, I’d be surprised. I’m flummoxed why the reviews I’ve read haven’t made more of it. This is cutting edge technology—a live drawing combined with live movement—a technique that has the potential to forever alter the future of the performing arts. Think of Nam June Paik or Wolf Vostell’s pioneering use of television sets in their work in the late 50s and early 60s, and you’ll have a better sense of the landscape-altering possibilities new technologies are creating at this critical moment in contemporary art.

In this case the artist behind the iPad is MacArthur Fellow Anna Schuleit, who also designed the set for Ivy Baldwin’s Here Rests Peggy. Schuleit is never visible during the performance, but the immediacy of her mark is both intoxicating and suspenseful, like watching a tightrope walker balance on a wire. There are no erasers or ESCAPE buttons available to Schuleit. We are accustomed to watching performers on the stage, and performers do what they do in part because they find the immediacy of a live experience exhilarating to some degree. But not every painter has the stomach for live theater. Luckily, Schuleit is up to the task.

 

Choreographer and dancer Ivy Baldwin in "Here Rests Peggy," with set designs by Anna Schueit. The piece is a tribute to art collector Peggy Guggenheim (Photo by Nafis Azad courtesy Ivy Baldwin Dance)

 

Ivy Baldwin's Ambient Cowboy is both elegant and spare, which is not surprising for a dance piece inspired by a house made of glass (Photo by Nafis Azad)

 

Philip Johnson's Glass House was the inspiration for Ivy Baldwin's new dance piece "Ambient Cowboy." This photo by Robin Hill shows the Glass House at dawn (Photo courtesy the Philip Johnson Glass House Blog)

It is a daring concept on Ivy Baldwin’s part—a live performance inspired by a seminal work of architecture combined with the excitement of a live set design. Johnson’s work alone offers many ideas ripe for exploration: transparency, the manmade versus the natural, boundaries, wild versus the civilized, open space versus the contained. There were moments in Baldwin’s Ambient Cowboy when I sensed some connection between the performance and Johnson’s Glass House. When the stage was bathed in green light, for instance, I thought of the large, grassy lawn surrounding the house in New Canaan, Connecticut.

But early in the performance I decided to stop struggling to make such connections and to simply go with the experience. There were powerful moments in Ambient Cowboy that transcended any lingering confusion. While I may not have understood how Lawrence Cassella’s Lamaze-style panting or the dancers’ arched backs and rhythmic chest scratching connected with the larger whole, I found these movements compelling. Baldwin’s choreography also has it’s humorous side, and at times the dance becomes infused with animalic gestures that resemble tail wagging or deer darting and leaping through the forest.

 

Baldwin's choreography also has it's humorous side, and at times the dance becomes infused with animalic gestures that resemble tail wagging or deer darting and leaping through the forest. (Molly Poerstel-Taylor and Ivy Baldwin in "Ambient Cowboy." Photo by Yi-Chun Wu courtesy artsjournal.com)

 

 

The moment when Smith collapses onto the floor on her stomach and Schuleit’s lines begin to furiously scratch out her body was the most mesmerizing point in Ambient Cowboy, and also the best expression of this new technology’s potential. (Photo by Yi-Chun Wu courtesy artsjournal.com)

Lawrence Philip Cassella was particularly riveting to watch on stage, though Ivy Baldwin, Eleanor Smith, and Molly Poerstel-Taylor all had their luminous moments. Eleanor’s Smith’s solo a quarter of the way through Ambient Cowboy was a stand-out. Her ability to convey suffering and sadness through shaking, rocking, and facial expressions was haunting, The moment when Smith collapses onto the floor on her stomach and Schuleit’s lines begin to furiously scratch out her body was the most mesmerizing point in Ambient Cowboy, and also the best expression of this new technology’s potential. I would have liked to have seen more live drawing in Ambient Cowboy.

Justin Jones’ music and sound design was a strong addition, especially during the last half of the performance, and Chloe Z. Brown’s lighting design, with its wash of contrasting yellows and greens, blues and yellows, was a beguiling stage for both the dancers and Schuleit’s light drawings.

 

Pictured (Left to Right) Lawrence Cassella, Eleanor Smith, and Molly Poerstel-Taylor (Photo by Aram Jibilian courtesy New York Live Arts)

 

 

Risk-taking is directly related to the future of dance as it embraces new technologies like the live drawing seen in "Ambient Cowboy." Soon, some incredibly brave team of artists will come along and dare to walk the tightrope, this time without a safety net. ("Ambient Cowboy" photo by Nafis Azad)

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