2011_9_22 Waste Land
“Variety is the spice of life,” remarked my wife a couple days ago, thinking of the interesting mix of films we have seen recently, all of them coming in the mail from NETFLIX. Last night we watched a most unusual documentary about a rather extraordinary artist from South America, Vik Muniz. He was born in a lower middle class neighborhood in Sao Paulo, Brazil. He financed a trip to New York City in the early eighties with money given him by a rich man who had accidentally shot him in the leg. He shows the scar in the movie. The money turned out to be his ticket to fame and fortune. At age 50 he had an idea to return to Brazil, which could be in part a way to give something back to his homeland. He seemed to be the kind of guy who would do that. There is no question he is an individual of extraordinary warmth in order to coax a great deal out of anyone he comes in contact with, as he demonstrates time and time again in “Waste Land.” Although he was originally a sculptor, he made his name as an innovative photographer, as he makes clear in the film. He made plans to be in Rio de Janeiro the better part of two years working with ‘catadores’ who worked in the Jarden Gamacho.
So what is the Jarden Gamacho? It is a vast landfill full of the garbage of Rio. And catadores or “pickers” are the group of scavengers who ‘farm the filth for fun and profit,’ if you can believe that. Actually, that’s not quite true because the seven catadores Vik selects for his special project are men and women who are interested only in material that can be recycled. Who knows how much time Muniz spent meeting catadores until he found the right seven. Months probably. The Association that was formed for the catadores has 2000 members. One of the people he chose for the project was Tiao, the man responsible for the Association. He presides over any issue that comes up. Another was Zambi, the resident intellectual who gathered enough books in the dump to start a decent library in the building where the Association held their meetings. Four women, each with a different story, were selected. Suelem started when she was 7 years old and now she is 18 with two kids, with a third on the way by the time the project ends. (A city of shacks borders the landfill; its population is 13,000 souls. It’s where most of the “pickers” live.) Irma is an older woman who is the resident cook at Jarden Gamacho. Magna and Isis, two women in their thirties, are pickers that are there because they have been unlucky in love. Finally there is Valter, the happy-go-lucky court jester who keeps everyone laughing, and a vital role among the pickers.
Now what might all this have to do with art and photography? The 7 catadores are to become collaborators with Vik in the creation of images in which garbage will play a creative role. The first step was each strikes a pose in imitation of a famous painting. For example Tiao chose “The Death Of Marat” by Jacques Louie David. Vik photographed him and then that picture is magnified many times over on a cloth format that is huge. A scaffold was put together with a large expensive camera. The pose of Marat is sketch in. Then Taio and Vik begin to fill the space around the figure and his bathtub—fill it with pre-selected recycled garbage, much of it colorful. When the design is finished a photograph is taken from above. For exhibition purposes the picture is reduced to approximately
4 x 5.’ Each of the catadores was thrilled to participate in the artwork, and at the end of the day, Vik presented each with a 16 x 20” replica of the picture each had worked on.
Vik Muniz was a sly fellow, as no one felt coerced into participation and all are quite content afterward. He wanted to have impact with his collaborators and he did. There are not too many artists around (or maybe I am living in a cave) with such human intentions. I am all for the idea of art as the engine of transformative experience. I agree with Franz Kafka: Art should serve as pick ax to break the frozen sea inside us. I also think of Artaud and his Theater of the Absurd and Cruelty. Garbage in a work of art?? Gawd, what will think of next?
What people forget is broken is opened.
The finale of the project took place in New York. Six of the catadores were flown to New York to see the stuff in a museum
Vik took Tiao’s work to an auction in New York and it sold for $50,000, which got divvied up among the catadores.
So what happened to the Seven? Valter, the laughing catadores, died of lung cancer right after Vik left. Taio still runs the Association and is big man in the recycle industry. Zambi was a catadores since he was nine years old so he spends some time with his friends, but he is also still stocking the library with more books—they have 7,000 now-- and he also brought computers and other educational tools for the people and their children. Suelem married the man who impregnated her and so far so good. Isis met a man; quit the Jarden Gamacho, got married and now works as a clerk in a grocery store. Magna also met a man and remarried; she works in a Pharmacy, bought a house with the money from the sale of her painting. She also got involved with making Jewelry.
I’ll say this: I was quite moved by this movie and I shall check Vik’s web site to see what he is up to now.
Friday, September 23, 2011
Thursday, September 22, 2011
Movies I have recently Seen
Movies I’ve seen recently
I am still involved with my book project but I wanted to get something on the blog about some movies I have seen recently. I changed my deal with NETFLIX. Instead of 3 movies at a time and streaming we cut back to 2 movies and no streaming for $12, which is half the other plan. With our appetite for film it may not be enough, but we shall try it and see how we feel. So far this year we have seen 165 films, about 90% through NETFLIX. Because of their need for revenue they hiked their prices and in one month they have lost 600,000 customers.
In 1996 the painter/filmmaker Julian Schnabel made a docudrama about one of the major stars in New York of the 1980s, Jean-Michael Basquiant, who was a friend of his. Along with Keith Haring they were the gold dust twins of the New York art scene in that decade, both dying young, Basquiant from a drug overdose and Haring from AIDS. Both had discipline as artists but not much with other appetites. Basquiant OD of heroin at 27, joining that array of “rock stars” that died at 27. Haring was 32. As has proven many times over, fame can be injurious to your health. Schnabel’s film is a kind of loving tribute to the young man. Jeffrey Wright played Basquiant and did a remarkable job, bringing to life in a fictional treatment his successes and death. David Bowie played Andy Warhol who was friend and mentor to the lad from Haiti; he even shared a show with him. Dennis Hopper also shows up in the film. The introduction to Basquiant work was of the drive-by variety.
I also saw a later film (2009) about Basquiant by another friend, a gal named Tamara Davis who has made several films, including “Billy Madison,” and “Gun Crazy.” It was called “Jean-Michael Basquiant: The Radiant Child.” The film was built around a Davis interview with the artist while he was still alive. In front of the camera he seemed uncomfortable and rather shy, not very forthcoming either. The film is generally less adoring of the “Radiant Child” and reassess him as a human being. We see more of his work, with a stress on the paintings with a graffiti emphasis rather than pictorial or painterly quality. Davis comments that he was not ready for fame. It came too early for him to handle it well.
My daughter hoodwinked me into seeing “Bridesmaids”; but I thanked her afterward because it was truly a hilarious film, one of very few I have seen in recent years. It has an ensemble cast but one talent really stood out, and it belong to Kristen Wiig. Foul-mouthed, scatological, and raunchy not only as a comedienne but she also wrote the screenplay. One scene is hilarious, when Wiig gets intoxicated on a plane. It’s a classic as far as I am concerned. I saw her as an updated Steve Martin, very skilled at physical comedy and a good writer too boot.
“Of Gods and Men” is a historical drama about some conflicted Trappist monks in Algeria during the anticolonial insurrection against France in the 1980s. Eight monks who live in complete harmony with the local village Muslims come into conflict with some Muslim extremists who have begun to terrorize the region. They talk among themselves what to do: should they flee or stay and take their chances. There is much debating about what to do and much singing and praying, which constitutes what they normally do day in and day out. Eventually they all decide to stay, no matter what. One night six of the monks are taken prisoner. The Arab terrorists try to make a trade using them as hostages to free some comrades. But the French officials won’t make the deal and the inevitable happens. We get a snapshot of how these monks lived, how they devoted themselves to God and helping others, and how they got caught in the crosshairs of history.
“RIFIFI” is a French crime drama that owes much to American noir films. I have seen at least 5 times, as I find it that intriguing and so well mounted and played. The last time I saw the film it was a terrible print. This time it was a Criterion DVD that was in excellent condition. Jules Dassin was the director. The last film he made was another noir film, “Night and the City,” which was released in America 1949. But then he ran afoul HUAC, a communist-hunting investigation committee from the House and because he failed to cooperate he was blacklisted till 1955 when he caught on in France. The film would certainly make my top ten in regard crime dramas. The highlight of the film is a robbery of some diamonds from a jewelry store in which no word is spoken for a half hour. The heist doesn’t pay off like it should have because one of the safecrackers—it was Jules Dassin himself playing the part—stole an expensive ring to give to a woman he was romancing, who belong to a rival gang. Such a thoughtless slip-up is a typical downfall in the noir movie where women are to be feared as well as loved. The two gangs war over the loot and 7 guys end up dead. The only survivors are three women, secondary characters—but without the loot. There is an interesting interview with Jules Dassin in special features.
“Fish Tank” is a small British film with Michael Fassbender who seems to be on the rise in movies as the newest hunk. He has a rugged handsome look, reminding me a bit of Rutgar Hauer who always got the role of Gladiator or Replicant. In “Fish Tank,” which is a small movie, Fassbender is carrying on an affair with a woman with a 15-year-old daughter who becomes smitten over lover boy, because he is nicer to her than her mother is. The girl is also an aspiring dancer, even though there is nothing extraordinary about her dancing; it just a dream she needs to nurture to keep her head above water, as her life is stuck in a narrow orbit with no real prospects. Well, lover boy makes love to her one night when her mother is drunk and asleep in the bedroom, and soon afterward she finds out he is married with a wife in the suburbs and 5-year old daughter, which pisses her off. So what does she do? She runs off with some 16-year-old boy, who like her quit school long ago, to repeat the folly and pattern of her luckless mother. It is a bleak film in the style of Mike Leigh and Ken Loach.
I am still involved with my book project but I wanted to get something on the blog about some movies I have seen recently. I changed my deal with NETFLIX. Instead of 3 movies at a time and streaming we cut back to 2 movies and no streaming for $12, which is half the other plan. With our appetite for film it may not be enough, but we shall try it and see how we feel. So far this year we have seen 165 films, about 90% through NETFLIX. Because of their need for revenue they hiked their prices and in one month they have lost 600,000 customers.
In 1996 the painter/filmmaker Julian Schnabel made a docudrama about one of the major stars in New York of the 1980s, Jean-Michael Basquiant, who was a friend of his. Along with Keith Haring they were the gold dust twins of the New York art scene in that decade, both dying young, Basquiant from a drug overdose and Haring from AIDS. Both had discipline as artists but not much with other appetites. Basquiant OD of heroin at 27, joining that array of “rock stars” that died at 27. Haring was 32. As has proven many times over, fame can be injurious to your health. Schnabel’s film is a kind of loving tribute to the young man. Jeffrey Wright played Basquiant and did a remarkable job, bringing to life in a fictional treatment his successes and death. David Bowie played Andy Warhol who was friend and mentor to the lad from Haiti; he even shared a show with him. Dennis Hopper also shows up in the film. The introduction to Basquiant work was of the drive-by variety.
I also saw a later film (2009) about Basquiant by another friend, a gal named Tamara Davis who has made several films, including “Billy Madison,” and “Gun Crazy.” It was called “Jean-Michael Basquiant: The Radiant Child.” The film was built around a Davis interview with the artist while he was still alive. In front of the camera he seemed uncomfortable and rather shy, not very forthcoming either. The film is generally less adoring of the “Radiant Child” and reassess him as a human being. We see more of his work, with a stress on the paintings with a graffiti emphasis rather than pictorial or painterly quality. Davis comments that he was not ready for fame. It came too early for him to handle it well.
My daughter hoodwinked me into seeing “Bridesmaids”; but I thanked her afterward because it was truly a hilarious film, one of very few I have seen in recent years. It has an ensemble cast but one talent really stood out, and it belong to Kristen Wiig. Foul-mouthed, scatological, and raunchy not only as a comedienne but she also wrote the screenplay. One scene is hilarious, when Wiig gets intoxicated on a plane. It’s a classic as far as I am concerned. I saw her as an updated Steve Martin, very skilled at physical comedy and a good writer too boot.
“Of Gods and Men” is a historical drama about some conflicted Trappist monks in Algeria during the anticolonial insurrection against France in the 1980s. Eight monks who live in complete harmony with the local village Muslims come into conflict with some Muslim extremists who have begun to terrorize the region. They talk among themselves what to do: should they flee or stay and take their chances. There is much debating about what to do and much singing and praying, which constitutes what they normally do day in and day out. Eventually they all decide to stay, no matter what. One night six of the monks are taken prisoner. The Arab terrorists try to make a trade using them as hostages to free some comrades. But the French officials won’t make the deal and the inevitable happens. We get a snapshot of how these monks lived, how they devoted themselves to God and helping others, and how they got caught in the crosshairs of history.
“RIFIFI” is a French crime drama that owes much to American noir films. I have seen at least 5 times, as I find it that intriguing and so well mounted and played. The last time I saw the film it was a terrible print. This time it was a Criterion DVD that was in excellent condition. Jules Dassin was the director. The last film he made was another noir film, “Night and the City,” which was released in America 1949. But then he ran afoul HUAC, a communist-hunting investigation committee from the House and because he failed to cooperate he was blacklisted till 1955 when he caught on in France. The film would certainly make my top ten in regard crime dramas. The highlight of the film is a robbery of some diamonds from a jewelry store in which no word is spoken for a half hour. The heist doesn’t pay off like it should have because one of the safecrackers—it was Jules Dassin himself playing the part—stole an expensive ring to give to a woman he was romancing, who belong to a rival gang. Such a thoughtless slip-up is a typical downfall in the noir movie where women are to be feared as well as loved. The two gangs war over the loot and 7 guys end up dead. The only survivors are three women, secondary characters—but without the loot. There is an interesting interview with Jules Dassin in special features.
“Fish Tank” is a small British film with Michael Fassbender who seems to be on the rise in movies as the newest hunk. He has a rugged handsome look, reminding me a bit of Rutgar Hauer who always got the role of Gladiator or Replicant. In “Fish Tank,” which is a small movie, Fassbender is carrying on an affair with a woman with a 15-year-old daughter who becomes smitten over lover boy, because he is nicer to her than her mother is. The girl is also an aspiring dancer, even though there is nothing extraordinary about her dancing; it just a dream she needs to nurture to keep her head above water, as her life is stuck in a narrow orbit with no real prospects. Well, lover boy makes love to her one night when her mother is drunk and asleep in the bedroom, and soon afterward she finds out he is married with a wife in the suburbs and 5-year old daughter, which pisses her off. So what does she do? She runs off with some 16-year-old boy, who like her quit school long ago, to repeat the folly and pattern of her luckless mother. It is a bleak film in the style of Mike Leigh and Ken Loach.
Wednesday, September 14, 2011
On a Mission
On a Mission
“You sound like a man on a mission.” A good friend of mine said that in a recent email. The comment came on the heels of my email full of the trials and tribulations of preparing two books for publication, that is, for self-publication. Actually, all the problems and numerous details involved with both books have pretty much dominated my mind and energy for the past three months, and it’s the main reason I haven’t written anything for the blog for several weeks. One simply can’t do all one would like to, and some off time is important too. And some of the people I regularly exchange emails with are losing patience with my carrying on time and time again about Eros AND PSYCHE and BRIDGE IN THE FOG, like some fanatic who is more obsessed than he realizes. My cousin back in Racine is letting me know she misses my usual email, where I write about various things. People have to understand that getting these books ready for publication is the culmination of essentially twenty years work. I have written each book three times and certain sections up to ten times. Plus there was a lot of drawing over those years—and I had a full time job up until 2003. Retirement and the time I now had helped me turn the corner and turbo-charged me for the remaining laps to the finish line. In any case, it was a long slog and a long time coming to fruition.
The gal I am working with at ALPHAGRAPHICS is sweet and very supportive but she has gotten confused about the order of images in the book. She sent me home Monday with the third sample of the EROS AND PSYCHE, wanting my opinion of the reproduction of the drawings, which had been too dark. The other chore I had was to correct about a dozen minor grammatical errors and I did all that. I was happy with all the drawings too, all but the two that were reduced in size in the introduction. Monday afternoon I brought in the two original drawings for them to scan anew and we have our fingers crossed that will make the difference. When I went through the third sample to my horror I found a drawing missing; it was the self-portrait with the woman coming out of my skull with me balancing a mandala on my right forefinger. It’s important because the commentary has a direct relationship to the image. The problem was in putting it back in where it was suppose to be not only altered the pagination, it left a blank page. My solution to that was to add another drawing, which is what we did. It will be the only case of two images side by side, but it comes in the middle of the book so I think it’ll work okay. I chose the one with clown on a runway with a dark and a light lady attending his act, which should fit right in with no problem.
So if the two reduced drawings are better than before we will be ready to print.
“You sound like a man on a mission.” A good friend of mine said that in a recent email. The comment came on the heels of my email full of the trials and tribulations of preparing two books for publication, that is, for self-publication. Actually, all the problems and numerous details involved with both books have pretty much dominated my mind and energy for the past three months, and it’s the main reason I haven’t written anything for the blog for several weeks. One simply can’t do all one would like to, and some off time is important too. And some of the people I regularly exchange emails with are losing patience with my carrying on time and time again about Eros AND PSYCHE and BRIDGE IN THE FOG, like some fanatic who is more obsessed than he realizes. My cousin back in Racine is letting me know she misses my usual email, where I write about various things. People have to understand that getting these books ready for publication is the culmination of essentially twenty years work. I have written each book three times and certain sections up to ten times. Plus there was a lot of drawing over those years—and I had a full time job up until 2003. Retirement and the time I now had helped me turn the corner and turbo-charged me for the remaining laps to the finish line. In any case, it was a long slog and a long time coming to fruition.
The gal I am working with at ALPHAGRAPHICS is sweet and very supportive but she has gotten confused about the order of images in the book. She sent me home Monday with the third sample of the EROS AND PSYCHE, wanting my opinion of the reproduction of the drawings, which had been too dark. The other chore I had was to correct about a dozen minor grammatical errors and I did all that. I was happy with all the drawings too, all but the two that were reduced in size in the introduction. Monday afternoon I brought in the two original drawings for them to scan anew and we have our fingers crossed that will make the difference. When I went through the third sample to my horror I found a drawing missing; it was the self-portrait with the woman coming out of my skull with me balancing a mandala on my right forefinger. It’s important because the commentary has a direct relationship to the image. The problem was in putting it back in where it was suppose to be not only altered the pagination, it left a blank page. My solution to that was to add another drawing, which is what we did. It will be the only case of two images side by side, but it comes in the middle of the book so I think it’ll work okay. I chose the one with clown on a runway with a dark and a light lady attending his act, which should fit right in with no problem.
So if the two reduced drawings are better than before we will be ready to print.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
