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"content": "\u003cp>My 15th wedding anniversary is in June. It seems impossible that my husband and I have been together for that long. The first 10 years of our marriage galloped by, or so it seems to me, before we finally had a child. Now my son is turning 5, my parents are elderly, and I’ve been married 15 years. These facts don’t feel real to me, but I guess they are anyway. \u003c/p>\n\u003cp>My experience of marriage goes like this: You fall in love and “start your life together.” In the constancy of marriage, your perception of the self rests in stasis. Which is to say, you somehow believe you’re in a permanent state of being a young person who’s building something with your partner. Then life events happen—you buy a house, someone dies, your child goes to kindergarten—and you realize that whoops, time has been passing all along. You’re no longer as young, or maybe no longer young at all. Before you can adjust to this new version of yourself, you learn that it too has passed away and you’re something else yet again. You’re shedding selves left and right, and you keep forgetting to notice. Then you’re shocked all over again when you do. \u003c/p>\n\u003cp>At least, that’s what happens to me. \u003c/p>\n\u003cfigure id=\"attachment_13062650\" class=\"wp-caption alignright\" style=\"max-width: 800px\">\u003cimg loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" src=\"https://ww2.kqed.org/arts/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2017/04/DaniShapiro.ElenaSeibert.jpg\" alt=\"Dani Shapiro.\" width=\"800\" height=\"1198\" class=\"size-full wp-image-13062650\" srcset=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2017/04/DaniShapiro.ElenaSeibert.jpg 800w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2017/04/DaniShapiro.ElenaSeibert-160x240.jpg 160w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2017/04/DaniShapiro.ElenaSeibert-768x1150.jpg 768w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2017/04/DaniShapiro.ElenaSeibert-240x359.jpg 240w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2017/04/DaniShapiro.ElenaSeibert-375x562.jpg 375w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2017/04/DaniShapiro.ElenaSeibert-520x779.jpg 520w\" sizes=\"(max-width: 800px) 100vw, 800px\">\u003cfigcaption class=\"wp-caption-text\">Dani Shapiro.\u003c/figcaption>\u003c/figure>\n\u003cp>Dani Shapiro’s lovely memoir \u003cem>Hourglass: Time, Memory, Marriage\u003c/em> examines this passing of time within the confines of matrimony. Shifting deftly between domestic experiences and the journals she kept on her honeymoon, Shapiro explores aging, love, family, career, and most of all, our concept of time. Now in her 50s, she’s both looking back at the woman who got married 18 years ago, and forward to the future.\u003c/p>\n\u003cblockquote>\u003cp>How do you suppose time works? A slippery succession of long hours adding up to ever-shorter days and years that disappear like falling dominoes? Near the end of her life, Grace Paley once remarked that the decades between fifty and eighty feel not like minutes, but seconds. I don’t know yet if this is the case, but I do know the decades that separate that young mother making her lists from the middle-aged woman discovering them feel like the membrane of a giant floating bubble. A pinprick and I’m back there.\u003c/p>\u003c/blockquote>\n\u003cp>I think about time constantly — how I should spend it, how much of it has passed, and what I should do with the rest of it. I’m not sure if this obsession is healthy, but it drives me to get things done. Time, after all, is the ultimate precious resource. So it’s necessary to limit social media, for example. No one wants “Checked Twitter A Lot” on her gravestone. My goal is to focus on the things that matter, but it can be hard to define what that is sometimes. There’s always the danger that you’ll invest your time in the wrong thing. You might choose option A when option B may have given you a happier, better life. Who can say? \u003c/p>\n\u003cp>[ad fullwidth]\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Shapiro’s book is haunted by a sense of \u003cem>what if\u003c/em>. What if her husband, M., hadn’t given up his job as a war correspondent to become a screenwriter? What if they don’t have enough money for old age and retirement? What if he’s not quite the person she thinks he is? What if they had never married at all? \u003c/p>\n\u003cp>“We have formed ourselves over the years as two branches form, twisting, rooting, growing, stunting, pushing, budding, stagnating, reaching ever further, together,” she writes. “Who would I have become without him?”\u003c/p>\n\u003caside class=\"pullquote alignright\">\nNo one wants “Checked Twitter A Lot” on her gravestone.\u003c/aside>\n\u003cp>There’s disappointment here as well. Despite considerable success, Shapiro feels she and M. haven’t quite lived up to the “grand ambitions” of their youth. M. gave up the dangerous life of a war correspondent at Shapiro’s request, and now chases success in Hollywood. Where once he was a regular guest on CNN, now “he is no longer in anyone’s Rolodex.” Meanwhile, things are slipping away—her parents die, his mother has Alzheimer’s, friendships end, their child is a teenager who doesn’t need her as much anymore. Financial pressures are continuous. \u003c/p>\n\u003cp>After 18 years of marriage, Shapiro can read her husband’s every expression. She knows how he’s feeling based on the sound of his tread in the hallway. Yet she has begun to question M.’s continuous assurance, “I’ll take care of it.” Her anxiety about the future, about whether he \u003cem>can\u003c/em> take care of it, is increasing. \u003c/p>\n\u003cp>“His body is my home,” she writes. “Yet lately, I have had flashes, unbidden moments in which I wonder who the hell he is. I secretly fear I’ve been wrong about him.” \u003c/p>\n\u003cp>We can never know another person completely. You are both in and outside of time. You both do and don’t know your spouse.\u003c/p>\n\u003caside class=\"pullquote alignright\">\nShapiro can read her husband’s every expression. She knows how he’s feeling based on the sound of his tread in the hallway.\u003c/aside>\n\u003cp>In Bjork’s song “Notget,” off of \u003cem>Vulnicura\u003c/em>, an album about her divorce, she sings, “Our love couldn’t carry you / And I didn’t even notice / For our love / Kept me safe from death.” Marriage tends to trick the mind. For years, you may bask in the security that’s supposed to come from a legal contract and an overpriced party, but of course that’s not enough. My marriage works because, as corny as it sounds, we believe we are each other’s “match,” as my husband likes to say. Shapiro writes that when she met M., “our eyes met and—neither years nor memory have altered this fact—I thought: \u003cem>There you are\u003c/em>.” These more mysterious connections sustain relationships for the long term. Marriage just solidifies and makes the existing bond public. \u003c/p>\n\u003cp>But, as Shapiro suggests, you can’t build a barrier from time, and you can’t stop the flow of life. Marriage cannot save you from death. \u003c/p>\n\u003cp>At one point, Shapiro lists the things she brought back from her honeymoon in France. She explains how all these things are gone now, except for the faience pottery they’d purchased. It’s still in perfect condition, for now. “Someday—perhaps late at night, tired, washing dishes—one will slip through my soapy fingers and shatter,” Shapiro writes. “It’s only a matter of time.”\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>[ad floatright]\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cimg loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" src=\"https://ww2.kqed.org/arts/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2017/03/Spine-1.jpg\" alt=\"Spine\" width=\"800\" height=\"42\" class=\"aligncenter size-full wp-image-12935470\" srcset=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2017/03/Spine-1.jpg 800w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2017/03/Spine-1-160x8.jpg 160w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2017/03/Spine-1-768x40.jpg 768w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2017/03/Spine-1-240x13.jpg 240w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2017/03/Spine-1-375x20.jpg 375w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2017/03/Spine-1-520x27.jpg 520w\" sizes=\"(max-width: 800px) 100vw, 800px\">\u003c/p>\n\n",
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"content": "\u003cdiv class=\"post-body\">\u003cp>\u003cp>My 15th wedding anniversary is in June. It seems impossible that my husband and I have been together for that long. The first 10 years of our marriage galloped by, or so it seems to me, before we finally had a child. Now my son is turning 5, my parents are elderly, and I’ve been married 15 years. These facts don’t feel real to me, but I guess they are anyway. \u003c/p>\n\u003cp>My experience of marriage goes like this: You fall in love and “start your life together.” In the constancy of marriage, your perception of the self rests in stasis. Which is to say, you somehow believe you’re in a permanent state of being a young person who’s building something with your partner. Then life events happen—you buy a house, someone dies, your child goes to kindergarten—and you realize that whoops, time has been passing all along. You’re no longer as young, or maybe no longer young at all. Before you can adjust to this new version of yourself, you learn that it too has passed away and you’re something else yet again. You’re shedding selves left and right, and you keep forgetting to notice. Then you’re shocked all over again when you do. \u003c/p>\n\u003cp>At least, that’s what happens to me. \u003c/p>\n\u003cfigure id=\"attachment_13062650\" class=\"wp-caption alignright\" style=\"max-width: 800px\">\u003cimg loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" src=\"https://ww2.kqed.org/arts/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2017/04/DaniShapiro.ElenaSeibert.jpg\" alt=\"Dani Shapiro.\" width=\"800\" height=\"1198\" class=\"size-full wp-image-13062650\" srcset=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2017/04/DaniShapiro.ElenaSeibert.jpg 800w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2017/04/DaniShapiro.ElenaSeibert-160x240.jpg 160w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2017/04/DaniShapiro.ElenaSeibert-768x1150.jpg 768w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2017/04/DaniShapiro.ElenaSeibert-240x359.jpg 240w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2017/04/DaniShapiro.ElenaSeibert-375x562.jpg 375w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2017/04/DaniShapiro.ElenaSeibert-520x779.jpg 520w\" sizes=\"(max-width: 800px) 100vw, 800px\">\u003cfigcaption class=\"wp-caption-text\">Dani Shapiro.\u003c/figcaption>\u003c/figure>\n\u003cp>Dani Shapiro’s lovely memoir \u003cem>Hourglass: Time, Memory, Marriage\u003c/em> examines this passing of time within the confines of matrimony. Shifting deftly between domestic experiences and the journals she kept on her honeymoon, Shapiro explores aging, love, family, career, and most of all, our concept of time. Now in her 50s, she’s both looking back at the woman who got married 18 years ago, and forward to the future.\u003c/p>\n\u003cblockquote>\u003cp>How do you suppose time works? A slippery succession of long hours adding up to ever-shorter days and years that disappear like falling dominoes? Near the end of her life, Grace Paley once remarked that the decades between fifty and eighty feel not like minutes, but seconds. I don’t know yet if this is the case, but I do know the decades that separate that young mother making her lists from the middle-aged woman discovering them feel like the membrane of a giant floating bubble. A pinprick and I’m back there.\u003c/p>\u003c/blockquote>\n\u003cp>I think about time constantly — how I should spend it, how much of it has passed, and what I should do with the rest of it. I’m not sure if this obsession is healthy, but it drives me to get things done. Time, after all, is the ultimate precious resource. So it’s necessary to limit social media, for example. No one wants “Checked Twitter A Lot” on her gravestone. My goal is to focus on the things that matter, but it can be hard to define what that is sometimes. There’s always the danger that you’ll invest your time in the wrong thing. You might choose option A when option B may have given you a happier, better life. Who can say? \u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003c/p>\u003c/div>",
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"content": "\u003cdiv class=\"post-body\">\u003cp>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Shapiro’s book is haunted by a sense of \u003cem>what if\u003c/em>. What if her husband, M., hadn’t given up his job as a war correspondent to become a screenwriter? What if they don’t have enough money for old age and retirement? What if he’s not quite the person she thinks he is? What if they had never married at all? \u003c/p>\n\u003cp>“We have formed ourselves over the years as two branches form, twisting, rooting, growing, stunting, pushing, budding, stagnating, reaching ever further, together,” she writes. “Who would I have become without him?”\u003c/p>\n\u003caside class=\"pullquote alignright\">\nNo one wants “Checked Twitter A Lot” on her gravestone.\u003c/aside>\n\u003cp>There’s disappointment here as well. Despite considerable success, Shapiro feels she and M. haven’t quite lived up to the “grand ambitions” of their youth. M. gave up the dangerous life of a war correspondent at Shapiro’s request, and now chases success in Hollywood. Where once he was a regular guest on CNN, now “he is no longer in anyone’s Rolodex.” Meanwhile, things are slipping away—her parents die, his mother has Alzheimer’s, friendships end, their child is a teenager who doesn’t need her as much anymore. Financial pressures are continuous. \u003c/p>\n\u003cp>After 18 years of marriage, Shapiro can read her husband’s every expression. She knows how he’s feeling based on the sound of his tread in the hallway. Yet she has begun to question M.’s continuous assurance, “I’ll take care of it.” Her anxiety about the future, about whether he \u003cem>can\u003c/em> take care of it, is increasing. \u003c/p>\n\u003cp>“His body is my home,” she writes. “Yet lately, I have had flashes, unbidden moments in which I wonder who the hell he is. I secretly fear I’ve been wrong about him.” \u003c/p>\n\u003cp>We can never know another person completely. You are both in and outside of time. You both do and don’t know your spouse.\u003c/p>\n\u003caside class=\"pullquote alignright\">\nShapiro can read her husband’s every expression. She knows how he’s feeling based on the sound of his tread in the hallway.\u003c/aside>\n\u003cp>In Bjork’s song “Notget,” off of \u003cem>Vulnicura\u003c/em>, an album about her divorce, she sings, “Our love couldn’t carry you / And I didn’t even notice / For our love / Kept me safe from death.” Marriage tends to trick the mind. For years, you may bask in the security that’s supposed to come from a legal contract and an overpriced party, but of course that’s not enough. My marriage works because, as corny as it sounds, we believe we are each other’s “match,” as my husband likes to say. Shapiro writes that when she met M., “our eyes met and—neither years nor memory have altered this fact—I thought: \u003cem>There you are\u003c/em>.” These more mysterious connections sustain relationships for the long term. Marriage just solidifies and makes the existing bond public. \u003c/p>\n\u003cp>But, as Shapiro suggests, you can’t build a barrier from time, and you can’t stop the flow of life. Marriage cannot save you from death. \u003c/p>\n\u003cp>At one point, Shapiro lists the things she brought back from her honeymoon in France. She explains how all these things are gone now, except for the faience pottery they’d purchased. It’s still in perfect condition, for now. “Someday—perhaps late at night, tired, washing dishes—one will slip through my soapy fingers and shatter,” Shapiro writes. “It’s only a matter of time.”\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003c/p>\u003c/div>",
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"content": "\u003cp>Has any movie franchise ever swole up more unrecognizably than \u003cem>The Fast & the Furi\u003c/em>-ad? Its opening heat, back in 2001, was just a humble \u003cem>Point Break\u003c/em> knockoff. Fourteen years later, \u003cem>Furious 7\u003c/em> overcame the death of its second banana, Paul Walker, during production to gross a billion-and-a-half dollars. By then, the series had reinvented itself as an globetrotting heist/spy/wrestling franchise, one as reliant on digital animation and unbound by verisimilitude as any superhero epic. Why just rip off \u003cem>Point Break\u003c/em> when you can rip off … everything?\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Vin Diesel sat out a couple of sequels before returning as producer, star, and self-described “\u003ca href=\"http://feature.variety.com/vin-diesel-a-furious-mind/\" target=\"_blank\" rel=\"noopener\">saga visionary\u003c/a>” with the 2009 model, \u003cem>Fast & Furious\u003c/em>. (His vision for the saga did not include definite articles.) The series found its golden mean with 2011’s \u003cem>Fast Five\u003c/em>, when Dwayne “The Rock” Johnson came aboard as a Federal agent shrinkwrapped in GSA-issue Under Armour. If the affable, versatile Johnson wasn’t a bigger draw than the surly, one-note Diesel back then, he certainly is now. The frame is no longer big enough for the both of them: When Johnson threw an Instagram fit while shooting the new \u003cem>The Fate of the Furious\u003c/em> last summer, it smelled like Universal’s (totally ripped) publicity arm was cooking up a Diesel v. Johnson rivalry to sell the movie.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>In fact, the two leads’ mutual disdain is the most convincing thing in it.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>https://youtu.be/JwMKRevYa_M\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Maybe if incoming director F. Gary Gray had found a way to channel their umbrage onscreen, this gears-grinding eighth chapter wouldn’t feel so bloated and listless. Instead, Gray — a journeyman whose relevant experience includes the 2003 remake of \u003cem>The Italian Job\u003c/em>, but who also made the much-loved comedy \u003cem>Friday\u003c/em> and the N.W.A. biopic \u003cem>Straight Outta Compton\u003c/em> — uses every trick he can to avoid having Diesel and Johnson on set at the same time. It’s a hindrance that probably made his days easier, but it lets the air out of the movie’s tires, bigly.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>[ad fullwidth]\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Johnson is still second-billed to Diesel, but it’s clearer than ever that he’s eating Diesel’s lunch now. This time around, he even takes command of Dominic Toretto’s bickering band of con men (plus Michelle Rodriguez and Nathalie Emmanuel) when Dominic Toretto — everyone in this movie is in the habit of speaking his first and last name aloud, as though language has not yet invented a pronoun that can contain his full Diesiality — gets blackmailed into betraying his “family.”\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>I’ll withhold the specifics of how he’s blackmailed (coughcoughsecretlovechildcough); but for a franchise that wants so desperately to reek of sweat and engine grease, these movies sure are soapy.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Moreover: if this crew was anything like the family Diesel’s character is forever insisting it is, he would just tell them he’s in a jam and ask their help instead of making them believe he’s gone rogue. (“Dominic Toretto has just gone rogue!” one of them says, helpfully.) But even a sliver of vulnerability would be too much for the brittle, tatted-up ego of Dominic Toretto, née Vin Diesel, Saga Visionary. We’re supposed to root for this fathead jerk over Imperator Furiosa?\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Oh, right: His blackmatrix is Charlize Theron, who mumbles her way through monologues about “choice theory” when she isn’t typing and seething into a headset. This sort of techno-temp role has defeated many an Oscar-winner; it isn’t Theron’s fault that she’s no better than Tyrese Gibson here. She plays an evil hacker called Cypher, described by Ludacris as “like a digital Act of God!” Maybe he meant to say “a digital God”? Don’t worry about it. The only words that matter is this liberally body-sprayed universe are vrooooom and screeeeeeech.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Though these films lost any sense of street-level plausibility many software upgrades ago, \u003cem>Fate of the Furious\u003c/em> remains true to their chop-shop aesthetic in the sense that its flashiest parts are all stolen. Its big Act Two set piece, wherein hundreds of driverless remote-controlled cars assault a diplomatic convoy in lower Manhattan, is an expansion of a bit from \u003cem>Terminator 3\u003c/em>, 14 years ago. It was a good gag back then and it still is, but as with so many \u003cem>Furious\u003c/em> action sequences, it’s marred by conspicuous computer animation that makes it seem about as dangerous as a screensaver, no matter how hard Diesel frowns at his steering wheel. The finale, which involves a bunch of muscle cars plus a tank chasing a hijacked Russian submarine (!) across an ice shelf, is practically photographed but glacially paced. It feels longer than \u003cem>The Hunt for Red October\u003c/em> all by itself.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Of course, there are only so many permutations of how fast-moving objects can collide with one another. But the Furious-es are even less creative when it comes to their MacGuffins (Electro-Magnetic Pulse generator, nuclear “football”) and their dialogue. In this one, when a bad guy gets ground up by an airplane propeller like that Nazi strongman in \u003cem>Raiders of the Lost Ark\u003c/em> did a hundred years ago, Johnson gets a inspired look and says… “Nasty.” It’s like a placeholder for a real joke no one cared enough to write. I get that these movies are not primarily targeted at English-speaking audiences, but they’ve got a writer (Chris Morgan, who’s done a half-dozen of these) on payroll. He could try writing a little. It would pass the time.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>And time this movie has got: 136 minutes, and the 40 or so good ones are mostly front-loaded. The opening, wherein Diesel resorts to some unconventional driving to win a hairline victory in a Havana street race, has a clarity and tension that’s otherwise absent. Of course, the sequence begins with Diesel telling a Cuban never to lose his “Cuban spirit” and ends with him being swarmed by adoring children. (Once again: He produced this movie.)\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Johnson gets a fun introduction when we see him off-duty, coaching his daughter’s soccer team. He then proceeds to discuss supposedly Top Secret intelligence outdoors, in the open, at said soccer game.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Apologists for this series insist its bone-deep dumbth doesn’t matter; and its roided-out box office tells no lies. But these movies fundamental laziness is an insult to every writer who ever lost sleep trying to make a genre movie make sense. Trying is for suckers, these movies tell us. Jokes are for chumps. Writing is for losers.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Fate’s MVP is Jason Statham, who played the villainous Owen Shaw the last time around but he’s on our team now. He’s almost as funny in this as he he was in \u003cem>Spy\u003c/em>. Watching \u003cem>The Transporter\u003c/em> and \u003cem>The Rock\u003c/em> antagonize one another (Johnson promises to “slap that whisker biscuit off [Statham’s] face,” because hair is a touchy subject with this crowd) is as good as this movie gets — save for a two-scene drop in by a certain Dame Commander of the Most Excellent Order of the British Empire, who looks like she’s having more fun here than anybody.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>[ad floatright]\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Its a weird takeaway from what used to be a muscle-car franchise, but \u003cem>The Fate of the Furious\u003c/em> adds up to a compelling case for energy independence: More Johnson, more Statham, and a lot less Diesel. \u003c/p>\n\n",
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"excerpt": "The latest installment of the 'Furious' franchise stays true to the series' \"chop-shop aesthetic, in the sense that its flashiest parts are all stolen,\" says critic Chris Klimek.",
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"description": "The latest installment of the 'Furious' franchise stays true to the series' "chop-shop aesthetic, in the sense that its flashiest parts are all stolen," says critic Chris Klimek.",
"title": "'The Fate Of The Furious' Runs On Diesel Fumes | KQED",
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"content": "\u003cdiv class=\"post-body\">\u003cp>\u003cp>Has any movie franchise ever swole up more unrecognizably than \u003cem>The Fast & the Furi\u003c/em>-ad? Its opening heat, back in 2001, was just a humble \u003cem>Point Break\u003c/em> knockoff. Fourteen years later, \u003cem>Furious 7\u003c/em> overcame the death of its second banana, Paul Walker, during production to gross a billion-and-a-half dollars. By then, the series had reinvented itself as an globetrotting heist/spy/wrestling franchise, one as reliant on digital animation and unbound by verisimilitude as any superhero epic. Why just rip off \u003cem>Point Break\u003c/em> when you can rip off … everything?\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Vin Diesel sat out a couple of sequels before returning as producer, star, and self-described “\u003ca href=\"http://feature.variety.com/vin-diesel-a-furious-mind/\" target=\"_blank\" rel=\"noopener\">saga visionary\u003c/a>” with the 2009 model, \u003cem>Fast & Furious\u003c/em>. (His vision for the saga did not include definite articles.) The series found its golden mean with 2011’s \u003cem>Fast Five\u003c/em>, when Dwayne “The Rock” Johnson came aboard as a Federal agent shrinkwrapped in GSA-issue Under Armour. If the affable, versatile Johnson wasn’t a bigger draw than the surly, one-note Diesel back then, he certainly is now. The frame is no longer big enough for the both of them: When Johnson threw an Instagram fit while shooting the new \u003cem>The Fate of the Furious\u003c/em> last summer, it smelled like Universal’s (totally ripped) publicity arm was cooking up a Diesel v. Johnson rivalry to sell the movie.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>In fact, the two leads’ mutual disdain is the most convincing thing in it.\u003c/p>\u003c/p>\u003cp>\u003cspan class='utils-parseShortcode-shortcodes-__youtubeShortcode__embedYoutube'>\n \u003cspan class='utils-parseShortcode-shortcodes-__youtubeShortcode__embedYoutubeInside'>\n \u003ciframe\n loading='lazy'\n class='utils-parseShortcode-shortcodes-__youtubeShortcode__youtubePlayer'\n type='text/html'\n src='//www.youtube.com/embed/JwMKRevYa_M'\n title='//www.youtube.com/embed/JwMKRevYa_M'\n allowfullscreen='true'\n style='border:0;'>\u003c/iframe>\n \u003c/span>\n \u003c/span>\u003c/p>\u003cp>\u003cp>Maybe if incoming director F. Gary Gray had found a way to channel their umbrage onscreen, this gears-grinding eighth chapter wouldn’t feel so bloated and listless. Instead, Gray — a journeyman whose relevant experience includes the 2003 remake of \u003cem>The Italian Job\u003c/em>, but who also made the much-loved comedy \u003cem>Friday\u003c/em> and the N.W.A. biopic \u003cem>Straight Outta Compton\u003c/em> — uses every trick he can to avoid having Diesel and Johnson on set at the same time. It’s a hindrance that probably made his days easier, but it lets the air out of the movie’s tires, bigly.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003c/p>\u003c/div>",
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"content": "\u003cdiv class=\"post-body\">\u003cp>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Johnson is still second-billed to Diesel, but it’s clearer than ever that he’s eating Diesel’s lunch now. This time around, he even takes command of Dominic Toretto’s bickering band of con men (plus Michelle Rodriguez and Nathalie Emmanuel) when Dominic Toretto — everyone in this movie is in the habit of speaking his first and last name aloud, as though language has not yet invented a pronoun that can contain his full Diesiality — gets blackmailed into betraying his “family.”\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>I’ll withhold the specifics of how he’s blackmailed (coughcoughsecretlovechildcough); but for a franchise that wants so desperately to reek of sweat and engine grease, these movies sure are soapy.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Moreover: if this crew was anything like the family Diesel’s character is forever insisting it is, he would just tell them he’s in a jam and ask their help instead of making them believe he’s gone rogue. (“Dominic Toretto has just gone rogue!” one of them says, helpfully.) But even a sliver of vulnerability would be too much for the brittle, tatted-up ego of Dominic Toretto, née Vin Diesel, Saga Visionary. We’re supposed to root for this fathead jerk over Imperator Furiosa?\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Oh, right: His blackmatrix is Charlize Theron, who mumbles her way through monologues about “choice theory” when she isn’t typing and seething into a headset. This sort of techno-temp role has defeated many an Oscar-winner; it isn’t Theron’s fault that she’s no better than Tyrese Gibson here. She plays an evil hacker called Cypher, described by Ludacris as “like a digital Act of God!” Maybe he meant to say “a digital God”? Don’t worry about it. The only words that matter is this liberally body-sprayed universe are vrooooom and screeeeeeech.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Though these films lost any sense of street-level plausibility many software upgrades ago, \u003cem>Fate of the Furious\u003c/em> remains true to their chop-shop aesthetic in the sense that its flashiest parts are all stolen. Its big Act Two set piece, wherein hundreds of driverless remote-controlled cars assault a diplomatic convoy in lower Manhattan, is an expansion of a bit from \u003cem>Terminator 3\u003c/em>, 14 years ago. It was a good gag back then and it still is, but as with so many \u003cem>Furious\u003c/em> action sequences, it’s marred by conspicuous computer animation that makes it seem about as dangerous as a screensaver, no matter how hard Diesel frowns at his steering wheel. The finale, which involves a bunch of muscle cars plus a tank chasing a hijacked Russian submarine (!) across an ice shelf, is practically photographed but glacially paced. It feels longer than \u003cem>The Hunt for Red October\u003c/em> all by itself.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Of course, there are only so many permutations of how fast-moving objects can collide with one another. But the Furious-es are even less creative when it comes to their MacGuffins (Electro-Magnetic Pulse generator, nuclear “football”) and their dialogue. In this one, when a bad guy gets ground up by an airplane propeller like that Nazi strongman in \u003cem>Raiders of the Lost Ark\u003c/em> did a hundred years ago, Johnson gets a inspired look and says… “Nasty.” It’s like a placeholder for a real joke no one cared enough to write. I get that these movies are not primarily targeted at English-speaking audiences, but they’ve got a writer (Chris Morgan, who’s done a half-dozen of these) on payroll. He could try writing a little. It would pass the time.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>And time this movie has got: 136 minutes, and the 40 or so good ones are mostly front-loaded. The opening, wherein Diesel resorts to some unconventional driving to win a hairline victory in a Havana street race, has a clarity and tension that’s otherwise absent. Of course, the sequence begins with Diesel telling a Cuban never to lose his “Cuban spirit” and ends with him being swarmed by adoring children. (Once again: He produced this movie.)\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Johnson gets a fun introduction when we see him off-duty, coaching his daughter’s soccer team. He then proceeds to discuss supposedly Top Secret intelligence outdoors, in the open, at said soccer game.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Apologists for this series insist its bone-deep dumbth doesn’t matter; and its roided-out box office tells no lies. But these movies fundamental laziness is an insult to every writer who ever lost sleep trying to make a genre movie make sense. Trying is for suckers, these movies tell us. Jokes are for chumps. Writing is for losers.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Fate’s MVP is Jason Statham, who played the villainous Owen Shaw the last time around but he’s on our team now. He’s almost as funny in this as he he was in \u003cem>Spy\u003c/em>. Watching \u003cem>The Transporter\u003c/em> and \u003cem>The Rock\u003c/em> antagonize one another (Johnson promises to “slap that whisker biscuit off [Statham’s] face,” because hair is a touchy subject with this crowd) is as good as this movie gets — save for a two-scene drop in by a certain Dame Commander of the Most Excellent Order of the British Empire, who looks like she’s having more fun here than anybody.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003c/p>\u003c/div>",
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"content": "\u003cdiv class=\"post-body\">\u003cp>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Its a weird takeaway from what used to be a muscle-car franchise, but \u003cem>The Fate of the Furious\u003c/em> adds up to a compelling case for energy independence: More Johnson, more Statham, and a lot less Diesel. \u003c/p>\n\n\u003c/div>\u003c/p>",
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"title": "No Point of View Overlooked in Park McArthur’s ‘New Work’",
"headTitle": "No Point of View Overlooked in Park McArthur’s ‘New Work’ | KQED",
"content": "\u003cp>The San Francisco Museum of Modern Art recently sent out a survey. On one page, it asked, “Please select any artist whose work you would be interested in seeing in a special exhibition.”\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Ignoring the woeful number of female and non-Western artists among the 18 options, only four living artists were included as practitioners whose work the public would theoretically like to see. Don’t get me wrong — like most, some my favorite artists are dead artists — but sometimes you want your visual culture to reflect the here and now, to come from a time and place that affects your own perception of the everyday, and challenges you to alter your view of the world.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Thankfully, SFMOMA’s ongoing \u003ci>New Work\u003c/i> series exists to show new bodies of work by contemporary artists in a dedicated gallery space on the museum’s fourth floor. The latest comes from New York-based artist \u003ca href=\"https://www.sfmoma.org/exhibition/new-work-park-mcarthur/\" target=\"_blank\" rel=\"noopener\">Park McArthur\u003c/a>: a group of photographs and wall-mounted sculptures that question the use and accessibility of public spaces — from highways to parks to campfires — and how language, through its presence or absence, creates social conditions in those spaces.\u003c/p>\n\u003cfigure id=\"attachment_13047970\" class=\"wp-caption aligncenter\" style=\"max-width: 1200px\">\u003cimg loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" src=\"https://ww2.kqed.org/arts/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2017/04/02.-New-Work-Park-McArthur-2017-installation-view-SFMOMA-photo-Robert-Herrick_1200.jpg\" alt=\"Installation view of 'New Work: Park McArthur,' at SFMOMA.\" width=\"1200\" height=\"901\" class=\"size-full wp-image-13047970\" srcset=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2017/04/02.-New-Work-Park-McArthur-2017-installation-view-SFMOMA-photo-Robert-Herrick_1200.jpg 1200w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2017/04/02.-New-Work-Park-McArthur-2017-installation-view-SFMOMA-photo-Robert-Herrick_1200-160x120.jpg 160w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2017/04/02.-New-Work-Park-McArthur-2017-installation-view-SFMOMA-photo-Robert-Herrick_1200-800x601.jpg 800w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2017/04/02.-New-Work-Park-McArthur-2017-installation-view-SFMOMA-photo-Robert-Herrick_1200-768x577.jpg 768w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2017/04/02.-New-Work-Park-McArthur-2017-installation-view-SFMOMA-photo-Robert-Herrick_1200-1020x766.jpg 1020w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2017/04/02.-New-Work-Park-McArthur-2017-installation-view-SFMOMA-photo-Robert-Herrick_1200-1180x886.jpg 1180w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2017/04/02.-New-Work-Park-McArthur-2017-installation-view-SFMOMA-photo-Robert-Herrick_1200-960x721.jpg 960w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2017/04/02.-New-Work-Park-McArthur-2017-installation-view-SFMOMA-photo-Robert-Herrick_1200-240x180.jpg 240w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2017/04/02.-New-Work-Park-McArthur-2017-installation-view-SFMOMA-photo-Robert-Herrick_1200-375x282.jpg 375w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2017/04/02.-New-Work-Park-McArthur-2017-installation-view-SFMOMA-photo-Robert-Herrick_1200-520x390.jpg 520w\" sizes=\"(max-width: 1200px) 100vw, 1200px\">\u003cfigcaption class=\"wp-caption-text\">Installation view of ‘New Work: Park McArthur,’ at SFMOMA. \u003ccite>(Photo: Robert Herrick)\u003c/cite>\u003c/figcaption>\u003c/figure>\n\u003cp>Twelve blank aluminum signs of varying shapes, the likes of which tell California drivers about areas of interest, recreation or cultural import, dominate the walls of the exhibition. Mounted back to back, half of the signs sit flush against the gallery walls. Up close and viewed from a stationary position, the anodized metal shapes become minimalist monuments stripped of their welcome messages, physically overwhelming next to McArthur’s small framed works. \u003c/p>\n\u003cp>The series’ title, \u003ci>Softly, effectively\u003c/i>, references a statement from the \u003ci>\u003ca href=\"https://mutcd.fhwa.dot.gov/\" target=\"_blank\" rel=\"noopener\">Manual on Uniform Traffic Control Devices\u003c/a>\u003c/i> that imparts to roadside signs a sense of agency and civic pride: “As the direct means of communication with the traveler, traffic control devices speak to us softly, yet effectively and authoritatively.”\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>[ad fullwidth]\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Throughout the exhibition, McArthur’s works allow inanimate objects to speak, asking the viewer to evaluate how different points of view affect our understanding of that language.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>This analysis is most pointed in McArthur’s reflection on the museum’s own spaces and materials. With \u003ci>Designation\u003c/i>, she mounts surplus maple floorboards against the wall with their underside facing out, showing how they would fit together to expand the museum’s square footage. \u003c/p>\n\u003cfigure id=\"attachment_13047971\" class=\"wp-caption aligncenter\" style=\"max-width: 1152px\">\u003cimg loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" src=\"https://ww2.kqed.org/arts/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2017/04/05.-New-Work-Park-McArthur-2017-installation-view-SFMOMA-photo-Robert-Herrick_COVER.jpg\" alt=\"Park McArthur, 'Bohetta (for Beverly),' 2017.\" width=\"1152\" height=\"648\" class=\"size-full wp-image-13047971\" srcset=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2017/04/05.-New-Work-Park-McArthur-2017-installation-view-SFMOMA-photo-Robert-Herrick_COVER.jpg 1152w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2017/04/05.-New-Work-Park-McArthur-2017-installation-view-SFMOMA-photo-Robert-Herrick_COVER-160x90.jpg 160w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2017/04/05.-New-Work-Park-McArthur-2017-installation-view-SFMOMA-photo-Robert-Herrick_COVER-800x450.jpg 800w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2017/04/05.-New-Work-Park-McArthur-2017-installation-view-SFMOMA-photo-Robert-Herrick_COVER-768x432.jpg 768w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2017/04/05.-New-Work-Park-McArthur-2017-installation-view-SFMOMA-photo-Robert-Herrick_COVER-1020x574.jpg 1020w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2017/04/05.-New-Work-Park-McArthur-2017-installation-view-SFMOMA-photo-Robert-Herrick_COVER-960x540.jpg 960w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2017/04/05.-New-Work-Park-McArthur-2017-installation-view-SFMOMA-photo-Robert-Herrick_COVER-240x135.jpg 240w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2017/04/05.-New-Work-Park-McArthur-2017-installation-view-SFMOMA-photo-Robert-Herrick_COVER-375x211.jpg 375w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2017/04/05.-New-Work-Park-McArthur-2017-installation-view-SFMOMA-photo-Robert-Herrick_COVER-520x293.jpg 520w\" sizes=\"(max-width: 1152px) 100vw, 1152px\">\u003cfigcaption class=\"wp-caption-text\">Park McArthur, ‘Bohetta (for Beverly),’ 2017. \u003ccite>(Photo: Robert Herrick)\u003c/cite>\u003c/figcaption>\u003c/figure>\n\u003cp>In \u003ci>Bohetta (for Beverly)\u003c/i>, she isolates two bricks of black granite removed from SFMOMA’s original atrium. Again, the artwork title contains layers of meaning. “Bohetta” is a catchy portmanteau of Mario Botta, architect behind the building’s 1995 design, and Snøhetta, the firm responsible for its 2016 expansion. “Beverly” is the late sculptor and earthworks artist \u003ca href=\"https://www.brooklynmuseum.org/exhibitions/beverly_buchanan_ruins_rituals\" target=\"_blank\" rel=\"noopener\">Beverly Buchanan\u003c/a>, who marked sites of loss and violence in the American South with pieces she often titled “ruins.” \u003c/p>\n\u003cp>One brick, mounted on the exhibition’s title wall, bears an inscription meant for SFMOMA employees who stuck with the museum during its years of closure and construction. “Thank you for stepping up and building our future,” it says, optimistically.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>What would be a casual figure of speech to the able-bodied takes on new meaning in the context of McArthur’s exhibition, which contains her 2013 photograph \u003ci>How to get a wheelchair over sand\u003c/i> and \u003ci>Ramp Scheme 160 Main Street\u003c/i>, a detailed drawing made by her grandfather. In both pieces, McArthur’s wheelchair is the absent subject. The ad-hoc and permanent pathways created to facilitate her entry into social spaces (a residency campfire and a family friend’s home, respectively) document both the obstacles to participation and the materials that smooth those obstacles into spaces of transition. \u003c/p>\n\u003cfigure id=\"attachment_13047969\" class=\"wp-caption aligncenter\" style=\"max-width: 1200px\">\u003cimg loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" src=\"https://ww2.kqed.org/arts/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2017/04/McArthur_Overlook-Park-2_1200.jpg\" alt=\"Park McArthur, 'Overlook Park 2,' 2017.q\" width=\"1200\" height=\"800\" class=\"size-full wp-image-13047969\" srcset=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2017/04/McArthur_Overlook-Park-2_1200.jpg 1200w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2017/04/McArthur_Overlook-Park-2_1200-160x107.jpg 160w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2017/04/McArthur_Overlook-Park-2_1200-800x533.jpg 800w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2017/04/McArthur_Overlook-Park-2_1200-768x512.jpg 768w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2017/04/McArthur_Overlook-Park-2_1200-1020x680.jpg 1020w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2017/04/McArthur_Overlook-Park-2_1200-1180x787.jpg 1180w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2017/04/McArthur_Overlook-Park-2_1200-960x640.jpg 960w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2017/04/McArthur_Overlook-Park-2_1200-240x160.jpg 240w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2017/04/McArthur_Overlook-Park-2_1200-375x250.jpg 375w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2017/04/McArthur_Overlook-Park-2_1200-520x347.jpg 520w\" sizes=\"(max-width: 1200px) 100vw, 1200px\">\u003cfigcaption class=\"wp-caption-text\">Park McArthur, ‘Overlook Park 2,’ 2017. \u003ccite>(Courtesy the artist, ESSEX STREET, New York and Lars Friedrich, Berlin)\u003c/cite>\u003c/figcaption>\u003c/figure>\n\u003cp>\u003ci>Overlook Park 1-5\u003c/i>, the last group of works in the show, revels in the double-meaning of the word “overlook.” McArthur’s camera circles a non-ADA-compliant picnic table, taking in the boundaries between grass, concrete and wood from a slight distance — a documentary evaluation that doesn’t fit the square, level, dispassionate framing one might expect from conceptual photography.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Everything speaks — whether through its naming or its materials or its construction. The trick, as McArthur’s work guides us to understand, is to move beyond a one-on-one conversation with a given object, monument or space to imagine alternate points of view, larger, more inclusive conversations, and new modes of gathering — goals all more easily accomplished with the living instead of the dead.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cimg loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" src=\"https://ww2.kqed.org/arts/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2016/09/Q.Logo_.Break_.jpg\" alt=\"Q.Logo.Break\" width=\"800\" height=\"78\" class=\"aligncenter size-full wp-image-12127869\" srcset=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2016/09/Q.Logo_.Break_.jpg 800w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2016/09/Q.Logo_.Break_-400x39.jpg 400w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2016/09/Q.Logo_.Break_-768x75.jpg 768w\" sizes=\"(max-width: 800px) 100vw, 800px\">\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003ci>‘New Work: Park McArthur’ is on view at the San Francisco Museum of Modern Art through Aug. 27, 2017. For more information, \u003ca href=\"https://www.sfmoma.org/exhibition/new-work-park-mcarthur/\" target=\"_blank\" rel=\"noopener\">click here\u003c/a>.\u003c/i>\u003c/p>\n\n",
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"excerpt": "The latest in the museum's 'New Work' series encourages viewers to reevaluate inanimate objects and the stories they tell. ",
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"content": "\u003cdiv class=\"post-body\">\u003cp>\u003cp>The San Francisco Museum of Modern Art recently sent out a survey. On one page, it asked, “Please select any artist whose work you would be interested in seeing in a special exhibition.”\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Ignoring the woeful number of female and non-Western artists among the 18 options, only four living artists were included as practitioners whose work the public would theoretically like to see. Don’t get me wrong — like most, some my favorite artists are dead artists — but sometimes you want your visual culture to reflect the here and now, to come from a time and place that affects your own perception of the everyday, and challenges you to alter your view of the world.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Thankfully, SFMOMA’s ongoing \u003ci>New Work\u003c/i> series exists to show new bodies of work by contemporary artists in a dedicated gallery space on the museum’s fourth floor. The latest comes from New York-based artist \u003ca href=\"https://www.sfmoma.org/exhibition/new-work-park-mcarthur/\" target=\"_blank\" rel=\"noopener\">Park McArthur\u003c/a>: a group of photographs and wall-mounted sculptures that question the use and accessibility of public spaces — from highways to parks to campfires — and how language, through its presence or absence, creates social conditions in those spaces.\u003c/p>\n\u003cfigure id=\"attachment_13047970\" class=\"wp-caption aligncenter\" style=\"max-width: 1200px\">\u003cimg loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" src=\"https://ww2.kqed.org/arts/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2017/04/02.-New-Work-Park-McArthur-2017-installation-view-SFMOMA-photo-Robert-Herrick_1200.jpg\" alt=\"Installation view of 'New Work: Park McArthur,' at SFMOMA.\" width=\"1200\" height=\"901\" class=\"size-full wp-image-13047970\" srcset=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2017/04/02.-New-Work-Park-McArthur-2017-installation-view-SFMOMA-photo-Robert-Herrick_1200.jpg 1200w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2017/04/02.-New-Work-Park-McArthur-2017-installation-view-SFMOMA-photo-Robert-Herrick_1200-160x120.jpg 160w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2017/04/02.-New-Work-Park-McArthur-2017-installation-view-SFMOMA-photo-Robert-Herrick_1200-800x601.jpg 800w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2017/04/02.-New-Work-Park-McArthur-2017-installation-view-SFMOMA-photo-Robert-Herrick_1200-768x577.jpg 768w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2017/04/02.-New-Work-Park-McArthur-2017-installation-view-SFMOMA-photo-Robert-Herrick_1200-1020x766.jpg 1020w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2017/04/02.-New-Work-Park-McArthur-2017-installation-view-SFMOMA-photo-Robert-Herrick_1200-1180x886.jpg 1180w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2017/04/02.-New-Work-Park-McArthur-2017-installation-view-SFMOMA-photo-Robert-Herrick_1200-960x721.jpg 960w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2017/04/02.-New-Work-Park-McArthur-2017-installation-view-SFMOMA-photo-Robert-Herrick_1200-240x180.jpg 240w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2017/04/02.-New-Work-Park-McArthur-2017-installation-view-SFMOMA-photo-Robert-Herrick_1200-375x282.jpg 375w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2017/04/02.-New-Work-Park-McArthur-2017-installation-view-SFMOMA-photo-Robert-Herrick_1200-520x390.jpg 520w\" sizes=\"(max-width: 1200px) 100vw, 1200px\">\u003cfigcaption class=\"wp-caption-text\">Installation view of ‘New Work: Park McArthur,’ at SFMOMA. \u003ccite>(Photo: Robert Herrick)\u003c/cite>\u003c/figcaption>\u003c/figure>\n\u003cp>Twelve blank aluminum signs of varying shapes, the likes of which tell California drivers about areas of interest, recreation or cultural import, dominate the walls of the exhibition. Mounted back to back, half of the signs sit flush against the gallery walls. Up close and viewed from a stationary position, the anodized metal shapes become minimalist monuments stripped of their welcome messages, physically overwhelming next to McArthur’s small framed works. \u003c/p>\n\u003cp>The series’ title, \u003ci>Softly, effectively\u003c/i>, references a statement from the \u003ci>\u003ca href=\"https://mutcd.fhwa.dot.gov/\" target=\"_blank\" rel=\"noopener\">Manual on Uniform Traffic Control Devices\u003c/a>\u003c/i> that imparts to roadside signs a sense of agency and civic pride: “As the direct means of communication with the traveler, traffic control devices speak to us softly, yet effectively and authoritatively.”\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003c/p>\u003c/div>",
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"content": "\u003cdiv class=\"post-body\">\u003cp>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Throughout the exhibition, McArthur’s works allow inanimate objects to speak, asking the viewer to evaluate how different points of view affect our understanding of that language.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>This analysis is most pointed in McArthur’s reflection on the museum’s own spaces and materials. With \u003ci>Designation\u003c/i>, she mounts surplus maple floorboards against the wall with their underside facing out, showing how they would fit together to expand the museum’s square footage. \u003c/p>\n\u003cfigure id=\"attachment_13047971\" class=\"wp-caption aligncenter\" style=\"max-width: 1152px\">\u003cimg loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" src=\"https://ww2.kqed.org/arts/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2017/04/05.-New-Work-Park-McArthur-2017-installation-view-SFMOMA-photo-Robert-Herrick_COVER.jpg\" alt=\"Park McArthur, 'Bohetta (for Beverly),' 2017.\" width=\"1152\" height=\"648\" class=\"size-full wp-image-13047971\" srcset=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2017/04/05.-New-Work-Park-McArthur-2017-installation-view-SFMOMA-photo-Robert-Herrick_COVER.jpg 1152w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2017/04/05.-New-Work-Park-McArthur-2017-installation-view-SFMOMA-photo-Robert-Herrick_COVER-160x90.jpg 160w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2017/04/05.-New-Work-Park-McArthur-2017-installation-view-SFMOMA-photo-Robert-Herrick_COVER-800x450.jpg 800w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2017/04/05.-New-Work-Park-McArthur-2017-installation-view-SFMOMA-photo-Robert-Herrick_COVER-768x432.jpg 768w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2017/04/05.-New-Work-Park-McArthur-2017-installation-view-SFMOMA-photo-Robert-Herrick_COVER-1020x574.jpg 1020w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2017/04/05.-New-Work-Park-McArthur-2017-installation-view-SFMOMA-photo-Robert-Herrick_COVER-960x540.jpg 960w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2017/04/05.-New-Work-Park-McArthur-2017-installation-view-SFMOMA-photo-Robert-Herrick_COVER-240x135.jpg 240w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2017/04/05.-New-Work-Park-McArthur-2017-installation-view-SFMOMA-photo-Robert-Herrick_COVER-375x211.jpg 375w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2017/04/05.-New-Work-Park-McArthur-2017-installation-view-SFMOMA-photo-Robert-Herrick_COVER-520x293.jpg 520w\" sizes=\"(max-width: 1152px) 100vw, 1152px\">\u003cfigcaption class=\"wp-caption-text\">Park McArthur, ‘Bohetta (for Beverly),’ 2017. \u003ccite>(Photo: Robert Herrick)\u003c/cite>\u003c/figcaption>\u003c/figure>\n\u003cp>In \u003ci>Bohetta (for Beverly)\u003c/i>, she isolates two bricks of black granite removed from SFMOMA’s original atrium. Again, the artwork title contains layers of meaning. “Bohetta” is a catchy portmanteau of Mario Botta, architect behind the building’s 1995 design, and Snøhetta, the firm responsible for its 2016 expansion. “Beverly” is the late sculptor and earthworks artist \u003ca href=\"https://www.brooklynmuseum.org/exhibitions/beverly_buchanan_ruins_rituals\" target=\"_blank\" rel=\"noopener\">Beverly Buchanan\u003c/a>, who marked sites of loss and violence in the American South with pieces she often titled “ruins.” \u003c/p>\n\u003cp>One brick, mounted on the exhibition’s title wall, bears an inscription meant for SFMOMA employees who stuck with the museum during its years of closure and construction. “Thank you for stepping up and building our future,” it says, optimistically.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>What would be a casual figure of speech to the able-bodied takes on new meaning in the context of McArthur’s exhibition, which contains her 2013 photograph \u003ci>How to get a wheelchair over sand\u003c/i> and \u003ci>Ramp Scheme 160 Main Street\u003c/i>, a detailed drawing made by her grandfather. In both pieces, McArthur’s wheelchair is the absent subject. The ad-hoc and permanent pathways created to facilitate her entry into social spaces (a residency campfire and a family friend’s home, respectively) document both the obstacles to participation and the materials that smooth those obstacles into spaces of transition. \u003c/p>\n\u003cfigure id=\"attachment_13047969\" class=\"wp-caption aligncenter\" style=\"max-width: 1200px\">\u003cimg loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" src=\"https://ww2.kqed.org/arts/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2017/04/McArthur_Overlook-Park-2_1200.jpg\" alt=\"Park McArthur, 'Overlook Park 2,' 2017.q\" width=\"1200\" height=\"800\" class=\"size-full wp-image-13047969\" srcset=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2017/04/McArthur_Overlook-Park-2_1200.jpg 1200w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2017/04/McArthur_Overlook-Park-2_1200-160x107.jpg 160w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2017/04/McArthur_Overlook-Park-2_1200-800x533.jpg 800w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2017/04/McArthur_Overlook-Park-2_1200-768x512.jpg 768w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2017/04/McArthur_Overlook-Park-2_1200-1020x680.jpg 1020w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2017/04/McArthur_Overlook-Park-2_1200-1180x787.jpg 1180w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2017/04/McArthur_Overlook-Park-2_1200-960x640.jpg 960w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2017/04/McArthur_Overlook-Park-2_1200-240x160.jpg 240w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2017/04/McArthur_Overlook-Park-2_1200-375x250.jpg 375w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2017/04/McArthur_Overlook-Park-2_1200-520x347.jpg 520w\" sizes=\"(max-width: 1200px) 100vw, 1200px\">\u003cfigcaption class=\"wp-caption-text\">Park McArthur, ‘Overlook Park 2,’ 2017. \u003ccite>(Courtesy the artist, ESSEX STREET, New York and Lars Friedrich, Berlin)\u003c/cite>\u003c/figcaption>\u003c/figure>\n\u003cp>\u003ci>Overlook Park 1-5\u003c/i>, the last group of works in the show, revels in the double-meaning of the word “overlook.” McArthur’s camera circles a non-ADA-compliant picnic table, taking in the boundaries between grass, concrete and wood from a slight distance — a documentary evaluation that doesn’t fit the square, level, dispassionate framing one might expect from conceptual photography.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Everything speaks — whether through its naming or its materials or its construction. The trick, as McArthur’s work guides us to understand, is to move beyond a one-on-one conversation with a given object, monument or space to imagine alternate points of view, larger, more inclusive conversations, and new modes of gathering — goals all more easily accomplished with the living instead of the dead.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cimg loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" src=\"https://ww2.kqed.org/arts/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2016/09/Q.Logo_.Break_.jpg\" alt=\"Q.Logo.Break\" width=\"800\" height=\"78\" class=\"aligncenter size-full wp-image-12127869\" srcset=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2016/09/Q.Logo_.Break_.jpg 800w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2016/09/Q.Logo_.Break_-400x39.jpg 400w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2016/09/Q.Logo_.Break_-768x75.jpg 768w\" sizes=\"(max-width: 800px) 100vw, 800px\">\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003ci>‘New Work: Park McArthur’ is on view at the San Francisco Museum of Modern Art through Aug. 27, 2017. For more information, \u003ca href=\"https://www.sfmoma.org/exhibition/new-work-park-mcarthur/\" target=\"_blank\" rel=\"noopener\">click here\u003c/a>.\u003c/i>\u003c/p>\n\n\u003c/div>\u003c/p>",
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"title": "New 'Mystery Science Theater' Coming to Netflix in the Not-Too-Distant Future",
"headTitle": "New ‘Mystery Science Theater’ Coming to Netflix in the Not-Too-Distant Future | KQED",
"content": "\u003cp>Here’s the setup: Mad scientists send a guy (Joel) into space and force him to watch cheesy movies. He can’t get back home because he’s used parts from his spaceship to build two robots whose commentaries make the movies bearable.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Sure, \u003cem>Mystery Science Theater 3000\u003c/em> had a silly premise — but it also had a cult following. The show aired in the 1990s and helped spawn the entire attitude of the Internet, where nothing is off limits from being mocked. \u003cem>MST3K\u003c/em> eventually came to an end, but now, to the delight of millions, it’s back.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>The show was the brainchild of Joel Hodgson, a prop comic from Wisconsin who made a few appearances on \u003cem>Saturday Night Live\u003c/em>. His combination of stoner absurdism and Midwestern nice proved perfect when he got the chance to start his own show on Minneapolis cable access TV in 1988. Making fun of dumb movies with your friends is a time-honored tradition, but with \u003cem>MST3K\u003c/em>, your friends were much funnier.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>The program got picked up by Comedy Central, where it ran for six seasons, then moved to the Sci-Fi Channel for another three. In the middle of all that, in 1993, Hodgson left over creative differences and a new host took over.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>“It was really like a tragedy for me the way it worked out,” he says. “It was like the most public, frustrating thing I could imagine. And so that took a really long time to grapple with. And then once I started to get more distance from it, I started to kind of feel like it could happen again.”\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>[ad fullwidth]\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>In the meantime, the show acquired such fans as Frank Zappa, Questlove from The Roots, Al Gore and Jonah Ray, a stand-up comic who hosts a parody travel show called \u003cem>Hidden America\u003c/em>. Ray grew up watching \u003cem>MST3K\u003c/em>. He says, “\u003cem>Mystery Science Theater\u003c/em> was someone I could watch old sci-fi movies with and make fun of them by myself. You know, essentially you have these friends with you while you’re by yourself. And I think that’s why it connects with people.”\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>A lot of people. When Hodgson got the rights back and launched a Kickstarter campaign to produce a new season, it broke the crowdfunding site’s record for video projects, raising more than $5.5 million. Super fan Jonah Ray got the call of a lifetime when Hodgson asked him to be the new host.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>“I was just like, ‘Wha?’ ” he remembers. “How does that even happen? … That’s the one thing I always wanted. Like, when I was growing up, that’s what I wanted.”\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Netflix signed on to distribute it and the new \u003cem>MST3K\u003c/em> started shooting last fall. The cast includes Baron Vaughn and Hampton Yount as the new robots, and Patton Oswalt and Felicia Day as the new mad scientists.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Day also grew up watching \u003cem>MST3K\u003c/em>, and in addition to starring in \u003cem>Dr. Horrible’s Sing-Along Blog\u003c/em> she created a popular web series called \u003cem>The Guild\u003c/em>. She says \u003cem>MST3K\u003c/em> spawned a whole culture of silly online commentary. “Nowadays people are used to having that commentary in their day-to-day lives, you know. They’re used to commenting on Twitter about, like, ‘Hey, did you see Batman’s new codpiece? It looks like a misshapen face,’ or something.”\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>The Internet is a make-fun-of-everything, snarky place that can sometimes be downright mean — but not \u003cem>MST3K\u003c/em>. “I actually think there’s a kindness to the sense of humor and the overall aspect and tone of \u003cem>Mystery Science Theater\u003c/em>,” Day says. “Joel — on the conference calls when we talk about the movies before we started writing on them — would always talk with love about the movies, never hate. He would be like, ‘Guys, this movie is \u003cem>so awesome\u003c/em>. There’s this thing and he’s flying through the air.’ You’re like, ‘Oh wait, this sounds terrible.’ But Joel \u003cem>loves\u003c/em> it.”\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Hodgson makes a few on-screen cameos in the new \u003cem>MST3K\u003c/em>, but he mostly stays behind the camera as a writer and creative director. “Honestly, I would have preferred that from the beginning,” he says. “It kind of makes me uptight and it’s a lot of pressure and I just feel so relieved to not have to worry about being on camera. I’m like really happy just being the guy who came up with it and being creative.”\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Hodgson’s absence as host and head movie-riffer may make nostalgic fans sad, and even lead to some snark online. But we suggest those fans take a cue from \u003ca href=\"https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=VF7cO4t0o9c\" target=\"_blank\" rel=\"noopener\">the show’s theme song\u003c/a>: “Just repeat to yourself, ‘It’s just a show. I should really just relax.’ ”\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Netflix is releasing the full first season of \u003cem>Mystery Science Theater 3000: The Return\u003c/em> on April 14.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cem>Editor \u003ca href=\"http://www.npr.org/people/2100368/tom-cole\" target=\"_blank\" rel=\"noopener\">Tom Cole\u003c/a> and digital producer \u003ca href=\"http://www.npr.org/people/348780034/nicole-cohen\" target=\"_blank\" rel=\"noopener\">Nicole Cohen\u003c/a> contributed to this report.\u003c/em> \u003c/p>\n\u003cdiv class=\"fullattribution\">Copyright 2017 NPR. To see more, visit http://www.npr.org/.\u003cimg decoding=\"async\" src=\"https://www.google-analytics.com/__utm.gif?utmac=UA-5828686-4&utmdt=New+%27Mystery+Science+Theater%27+Coming+To+Netflix+In+The+Not-Too-Distant+Future&utme=8(APIKey)9(MDAxOTAwOTE4MDEyMTkxMDAzNjczZDljZA004)\">\u003c/div>\n\n",
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"excerpt": "The show originally aired in the '90s and helped spawn the entire attitude of the Internet. Sure, it had a silly premise — but it also had a cult following. The reboot's first season drops on Friday.",
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"content": "\u003cdiv class=\"post-body\">\u003cp>\u003cp>Here’s the setup: Mad scientists send a guy (Joel) into space and force him to watch cheesy movies. He can’t get back home because he’s used parts from his spaceship to build two robots whose commentaries make the movies bearable.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Sure, \u003cem>Mystery Science Theater 3000\u003c/em> had a silly premise — but it also had a cult following. The show aired in the 1990s and helped spawn the entire attitude of the Internet, where nothing is off limits from being mocked. \u003cem>MST3K\u003c/em> eventually came to an end, but now, to the delight of millions, it’s back.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>The show was the brainchild of Joel Hodgson, a prop comic from Wisconsin who made a few appearances on \u003cem>Saturday Night Live\u003c/em>. His combination of stoner absurdism and Midwestern nice proved perfect when he got the chance to start his own show on Minneapolis cable access TV in 1988. Making fun of dumb movies with your friends is a time-honored tradition, but with \u003cem>MST3K\u003c/em>, your friends were much funnier.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>The program got picked up by Comedy Central, where it ran for six seasons, then moved to the Sci-Fi Channel for another three. In the middle of all that, in 1993, Hodgson left over creative differences and a new host took over.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>“It was really like a tragedy for me the way it worked out,” he says. “It was like the most public, frustrating thing I could imagine. And so that took a really long time to grapple with. And then once I started to get more distance from it, I started to kind of feel like it could happen again.”\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003c/p>\u003c/div>",
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"content": "\u003cdiv class=\"post-body\">\u003cp>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>In the meantime, the show acquired such fans as Frank Zappa, Questlove from The Roots, Al Gore and Jonah Ray, a stand-up comic who hosts a parody travel show called \u003cem>Hidden America\u003c/em>. Ray grew up watching \u003cem>MST3K\u003c/em>. He says, “\u003cem>Mystery Science Theater\u003c/em> was someone I could watch old sci-fi movies with and make fun of them by myself. You know, essentially you have these friends with you while you’re by yourself. And I think that’s why it connects with people.”\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>A lot of people. When Hodgson got the rights back and launched a Kickstarter campaign to produce a new season, it broke the crowdfunding site’s record for video projects, raising more than $5.5 million. Super fan Jonah Ray got the call of a lifetime when Hodgson asked him to be the new host.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>“I was just like, ‘Wha?’ ” he remembers. “How does that even happen? … That’s the one thing I always wanted. Like, when I was growing up, that’s what I wanted.”\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Netflix signed on to distribute it and the new \u003cem>MST3K\u003c/em> started shooting last fall. The cast includes Baron Vaughn and Hampton Yount as the new robots, and Patton Oswalt and Felicia Day as the new mad scientists.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Day also grew up watching \u003cem>MST3K\u003c/em>, and in addition to starring in \u003cem>Dr. Horrible’s Sing-Along Blog\u003c/em> she created a popular web series called \u003cem>The Guild\u003c/em>. She says \u003cem>MST3K\u003c/em> spawned a whole culture of silly online commentary. “Nowadays people are used to having that commentary in their day-to-day lives, you know. They’re used to commenting on Twitter about, like, ‘Hey, did you see Batman’s new codpiece? It looks like a misshapen face,’ or something.”\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>The Internet is a make-fun-of-everything, snarky place that can sometimes be downright mean — but not \u003cem>MST3K\u003c/em>. “I actually think there’s a kindness to the sense of humor and the overall aspect and tone of \u003cem>Mystery Science Theater\u003c/em>,” Day says. “Joel — on the conference calls when we talk about the movies before we started writing on them — would always talk with love about the movies, never hate. He would be like, ‘Guys, this movie is \u003cem>so awesome\u003c/em>. There’s this thing and he’s flying through the air.’ You’re like, ‘Oh wait, this sounds terrible.’ But Joel \u003cem>loves\u003c/em> it.”\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Hodgson makes a few on-screen cameos in the new \u003cem>MST3K\u003c/em>, but he mostly stays behind the camera as a writer and creative director. “Honestly, I would have preferred that from the beginning,” he says. “It kind of makes me uptight and it’s a lot of pressure and I just feel so relieved to not have to worry about being on camera. I’m like really happy just being the guy who came up with it and being creative.”\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Hodgson’s absence as host and head movie-riffer may make nostalgic fans sad, and even lead to some snark online. But we suggest those fans take a cue from \u003ca href=\"https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=VF7cO4t0o9c\" target=\"_blank\" rel=\"noopener\">the show’s theme song\u003c/a>: “Just repeat to yourself, ‘It’s just a show. I should really just relax.’ ”\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Netflix is releasing the full first season of \u003cem>Mystery Science Theater 3000: The Return\u003c/em> on April 14.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cem>Editor \u003ca href=\"http://www.npr.org/people/2100368/tom-cole\" target=\"_blank\" rel=\"noopener\">Tom Cole\u003c/a> and digital producer \u003ca href=\"http://www.npr.org/people/348780034/nicole-cohen\" target=\"_blank\" rel=\"noopener\">Nicole Cohen\u003c/a> contributed to this report.\u003c/em> \u003c/p>\n\u003cdiv class=\"fullattribution\">Copyright 2017 NPR. To see more, visit http://www.npr.org/.\u003cimg decoding=\"async\" src=\"https://www.google-analytics.com/__utm.gif?utmac=UA-5828686-4&utmdt=New+%27Mystery+Science+Theater%27+Coming+To+Netflix+In+The+Not-Too-Distant+Future&utme=8(APIKey)9(MDAxOTAwOTE4MDEyMTkxMDAzNjczZDljZA004)\">\u003c/div>\n\n\u003c/div>\u003c/p>",
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"slug": "de-young-summer-of-love-50th-anniversary",
"title": "At the de Young, the 'Summer of Love Experience' Is a Broken Record",
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"content": "\u003cp>It was a stormy evening on Thursday, April 6, but inside the lobby of the \u003ca href=\"https://deyoung.famsf.org/\" target=\"_blank\" rel=\"noopener noreferrer\">de Young Museum\u003c/a>, a warm glow emanated from lava lamps propped on the makeshift bar. Large, flower-adorned peace signs topped a pair of appetizer tables (pita and hummus, couscous salads, goblets of shrimp) while an ambiguous psychedelic tribute band—decked out in bell-bottoms, colorful vests and questionable Afro wigs—swayed on platforms and played bongos in front of a neon-lit wall.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Yes, this was the press preview/donor reception for the museum’s new exhibit celebrating the 50th anniversary of the Summer of Love. \u003ca href=\"https://deyoung.famsf.org/summer-love-art-fashion-and-rock-roll\" target=\"_blank\" rel=\"noopener noreferrer\">\u003ci>The Summer of Love Experience: Art, Fashion, and Rock & Roll\u003c/i>\u003c/a>, on view now through Aug. 20, is the kind of programming every San Francisco institution is apparently required to produce by law (a.k.a. a strong promotion from \u003ca href=\"http://www.sftravel.com/summer-love-2017\" target=\"_blank\" rel=\"noopener noreferrer\">the city’s tourism bureau\u003c/a>) during the summer of 2017. Haven’t you heard? There are concerts, talks, and photo shows. There’s a \u003ca href=\"https://magicbussf.com/tour/anniversary-summer-of-love/\" target=\"_blank\" rel=\"noopener noreferrer\">Magic Bus Experience\u003c/a>. There’s an ongoing \u003ca href=\"http://summerof.love/event/love-boutique-opening-reception-penthouse-five-inside-neiman-marcus-union-square/\" target=\"_blank\" rel=\"noopener noreferrer\">’60s fashion boutique at the Neiman Marcus penthouse in Union Square\u003c/a>.\u003c/p>\n\u003cfigure id=\"attachment_13042303\" class=\"wp-caption aligncenter\" style=\"max-width: 1200px\">\u003cimg loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" class=\"size-full wp-image-13042303\" src=\"https://ww2.kqed.org/arts/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2017/04/0864-Deyoung-170406_1200.jpg\" alt=\"Performers "protesting" at 'The Summer of Love Experience' donor reception at de Young Museum.\" width=\"1200\" height=\"800\" srcset=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2017/04/0864-Deyoung-170406_1200.jpg 1200w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2017/04/0864-Deyoung-170406_1200-160x107.jpg 160w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2017/04/0864-Deyoung-170406_1200-800x533.jpg 800w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2017/04/0864-Deyoung-170406_1200-768x512.jpg 768w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2017/04/0864-Deyoung-170406_1200-1020x680.jpg 1020w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2017/04/0864-Deyoung-170406_1200-1180x787.jpg 1180w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2017/04/0864-Deyoung-170406_1200-960x640.jpg 960w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2017/04/0864-Deyoung-170406_1200-240x160.jpg 240w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2017/04/0864-Deyoung-170406_1200-375x250.jpg 375w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2017/04/0864-Deyoung-170406_1200-520x347.jpg 520w\" sizes=\"auto, (max-width: 1200px) 100vw, 1200px\">\u003cfigcaption class=\"wp-caption-text\">Performers “protesting” at ‘The Summer of Love Experience’ donor reception at de Young Museum. \u003ccite>(Devlin Shand for Drew Altizer Photography)\u003c/cite>\u003c/figcaption>\u003c/figure>\n\u003cp>And, for an hour or so on Thursday night at the de Young—as the band turned into a team of cutesy, costumed “protesters” who picked up “Make Love Not War” signs and paraded groovily through the party with their bongos \u003ci>at the precise moment\u003c/i> every journalist in the room got a push notification announcing the U.S. had just launched missiles into Syria—there was a degree of tone-deafness that bordered on surreal. It was, in fact, the perfect encapsulation of the entire exhibition’s myopia.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Let’s get one thing out of the way: We are not convinced any of this summer’s grand re-telling is necessary. As California natives in our early 30s, we’ve grown up in the persistent shadow of the Summer of Love, a specter of San Francisco in the sixties as sacred text—the prophets Jerry Garcia, Ken Kesey and Bill Graham untouchable in their retroactive glory. These people, and this era, are not lacking memorialization: the stories of the Haight-Ashbury, the Human Be-In, the drugs, the free love—they have been told many times, by many people, in books and movies and American history courses.\u003c/p>\n\u003cfigure id=\"attachment_13042313\" class=\"wp-caption aligncenter\" style=\"max-width: 1200px\">\u003cimg loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" class=\"size-full wp-image-13042313\" src=\"https://ww2.kqed.org/arts/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2017/04/2017_DEY_SOL_Exhibition_Install_V59_1200.jpg\" alt=\"Installation view of Haight Street Gallery in 'The Summer of Love Experience.'\" width=\"1200\" height=\"900\" srcset=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2017/04/2017_DEY_SOL_Exhibition_Install_V59_1200.jpg 1200w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2017/04/2017_DEY_SOL_Exhibition_Install_V59_1200-160x120.jpg 160w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2017/04/2017_DEY_SOL_Exhibition_Install_V59_1200-800x600.jpg 800w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2017/04/2017_DEY_SOL_Exhibition_Install_V59_1200-768x576.jpg 768w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2017/04/2017_DEY_SOL_Exhibition_Install_V59_1200-1020x765.jpg 1020w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2017/04/2017_DEY_SOL_Exhibition_Install_V59_1200-1180x885.jpg 1180w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2017/04/2017_DEY_SOL_Exhibition_Install_V59_1200-960x720.jpg 960w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2017/04/2017_DEY_SOL_Exhibition_Install_V59_1200-240x180.jpg 240w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2017/04/2017_DEY_SOL_Exhibition_Install_V59_1200-375x281.jpg 375w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2017/04/2017_DEY_SOL_Exhibition_Install_V59_1200-520x390.jpg 520w\" sizes=\"auto, (max-width: 1200px) 100vw, 1200px\">\u003cfigcaption class=\"wp-caption-text\">Installation view of Haight Street Gallery in ‘The Summer of Love Experience.’ \u003ccite>(Courtesy of FAMSF)\u003c/cite>\u003c/figcaption>\u003c/figure>\n\u003cp>The way yet another rehashing might justify itself, then, is by adding something new to this fairly recent history. (See BAMPFA’s excellent \u003ci>\u003ca href=\"https://ww2.kqed.org/arts/2017/02/28/at-bampfa-hippie-modernism-proves-the-fight-for-utopia-is-far-from-over/\" target=\"_blank\" rel=\"noopener noreferrer\">Hippie Modernism: The Struggle for Utopia\u003c/a>\u003c/i>, for example.) Give us an exhibit that offers a clear-eyed critique of what truthfully was a brief social experiment, notes its shortcomings along with its joys. Give us context. At the very least, give us some intellectual honesty: an exploration of what really happened, who it affected, why it ended, and how it shaped the San Francisco (and United States) we currently inhabit.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>[ad fullwidth]\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Perhaps some of this summer’s yet-unopened exhibits will offer this. \u003ci>The Summer of Love Experience\u003c/i> at the de Young does not.\u003c/p>\n\u003cfigure id=\"attachment_13042304\" class=\"wp-caption aligncenter\" style=\"max-width: 1200px\">\u003cimg loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" class=\"size-full wp-image-13042304\" src=\"https://ww2.kqed.org/arts/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2017/04/1202-DeYoung-170406_1200.jpg\" alt=\"A museum-goer inside Bill Ham's 'Kinetic Light Painting, 2016-2017.\" width=\"1200\" height=\"800\" srcset=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2017/04/1202-DeYoung-170406_1200.jpg 1200w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2017/04/1202-DeYoung-170406_1200-160x107.jpg 160w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2017/04/1202-DeYoung-170406_1200-800x533.jpg 800w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2017/04/1202-DeYoung-170406_1200-768x512.jpg 768w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2017/04/1202-DeYoung-170406_1200-1020x680.jpg 1020w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2017/04/1202-DeYoung-170406_1200-1180x787.jpg 1180w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2017/04/1202-DeYoung-170406_1200-960x640.jpg 960w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2017/04/1202-DeYoung-170406_1200-240x160.jpg 240w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2017/04/1202-DeYoung-170406_1200-375x250.jpg 375w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2017/04/1202-DeYoung-170406_1200-520x347.jpg 520w\" sizes=\"auto, (max-width: 1200px) 100vw, 1200px\">\u003cfigcaption class=\"wp-caption-text\">A museum-goer inside Bill Ham’s ‘Kinetic Light Painting, 2016-2017. \u003ccite>(Drew Altizer Photography)\u003c/cite>\u003c/figcaption>\u003c/figure>\n\u003cp>What it does provide is a bright, colorful celebration of the aesthetics of the time period, and if you are fascinated by those, as many will be, by all means go see it. Over the long, weaving course of 10 galleries—including one selfie-ready space designed by liquid light show veteran Bill Ham—we get psychedelic rock show posters on top of posters, a giant bedspread once intended for Grateful Dead guitarist Bob Weir, record sleeves, book covers, and pins (so many pins). Somehow overwhelming without diving beneath the surface of the era’s aesthetics, the show seems intent on proving it’s possible to have, at the same time, too much and not enough.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>We’ll allow there are interesting artifacts to behold: The collection of nearly 150 posters and handbills from Bay Area music venues anchors the exhibition, and many of them are indeed beautiful. The area devoted to demonstrating the lithographic process by which they were made is also worthwhile; Stanley Mouse, Wes Wilson and their compatriots from this era of poster art deserve all the recognition they’ve received over the past 50 years.\u003c/p>\n\u003cfigure id=\"attachment_13042306\" class=\"wp-caption aligncenter\" style=\"max-width: 1200px\">\u003cimg loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" class=\"size-full wp-image-13042306\" src=\"https://ww2.kqed.org/arts/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2017/04/Schnepf_Summer-of-Love_1200.jpg\" alt=\"Left: Bob Schnepf, 'Summer of Love/City of San Francisco,' 1967. Right: Victor Moscoso, Pablo Ferro film advertisement, 1967.\" width=\"1200\" height=\"802\" srcset=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2017/04/Schnepf_Summer-of-Love_1200.jpg 1200w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2017/04/Schnepf_Summer-of-Love_1200-160x107.jpg 160w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2017/04/Schnepf_Summer-of-Love_1200-800x535.jpg 800w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2017/04/Schnepf_Summer-of-Love_1200-768x513.jpg 768w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2017/04/Schnepf_Summer-of-Love_1200-1020x682.jpg 1020w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2017/04/Schnepf_Summer-of-Love_1200-1180x789.jpg 1180w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2017/04/Schnepf_Summer-of-Love_1200-960x642.jpg 960w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2017/04/Schnepf_Summer-of-Love_1200-240x160.jpg 240w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2017/04/Schnepf_Summer-of-Love_1200-375x251.jpg 375w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2017/04/Schnepf_Summer-of-Love_1200-520x348.jpg 520w\" sizes=\"auto, (max-width: 1200px) 100vw, 1200px\">\u003cfigcaption class=\"wp-caption-text\">Left: Bob Schnepf, ‘Summer of Love/City of San Francisco,’ 1967. Right: Victor Moscoso, Pablo Ferro film advertisement, 1967. \u003ccite>(Courtesy of FAMSF)\u003c/cite>\u003c/figcaption>\u003c/figure>\n\u003cp>But after reading a short explanation of \u003ca href=\"https://ww2.kqed.org/arts/2016/11/10/hyde-street-rock-how-wally-heider-and-the-tenderloin-shaped-the-san-francisco-sound/\" target=\"_blank\" rel=\"noopener noreferrer\">The San Francisco Sound\u003c/a>, one is also left with the feeling that we’re being asked (yet again) to revere this era for the sake of reverence, in the name of pure rose-colored folklore, and in the dullest kind of vacuum. Sure, the Grateful Dead and Jefferson Airplane have come to represent not just a musical moment but a tribe, a lifestyle. Can we discuss what came after? What bands they influenced, or even what they stood for? Where can their nonconformist message still be felt in present-day San Francisco, where capitalism run amok has made it difficult if not impossible for artists to survive? Put bluntly: \u003cem>Why are we still talking about this\u003c/em>? If it’s for reasons other than to tickle donors and tourists who came of age during this period and will smile fondly at the memories, please show us those.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>In the meantime: Right this way, please. We have Jerry Garcia’s hat.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003ci>The Summer of Love Experience\u003c/i> does devote a considerable amount of floorspace to the era’s clothing designers and trends, a welcome bit of tangibility in an otherwise ephemera-filled exhibition. Mannequins sport customized jeans, maxi peasant dresses and Native American-inspired leather fringe; Birgitta Bjerke’s crocheted work is a standout. Behind this vitrine—drumroll please—we even have the companion piece to Garcia’s Uncle Sam headgear: Janis Joplin’s handbag, intricately embroidered by Linda Gravenites.\u003c/p>\n\u003cfigure id=\"attachment_13042314\" class=\"wp-caption aligncenter\" style=\"max-width: 1200px\">\u003cimg loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" class=\"size-full wp-image-13042314\" src=\"https://ww2.kqed.org/arts/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2017/04/L16_56_6_2_V5_8_1200.jpg\" alt=\"Linda Gravenites, Handbag, ca. 1967.\" width=\"1200\" height=\"1883\" srcset=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2017/04/L16_56_6_2_V5_8_1200.jpg 1200w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2017/04/L16_56_6_2_V5_8_1200-160x251.jpg 160w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2017/04/L16_56_6_2_V5_8_1200-800x1255.jpg 800w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2017/04/L16_56_6_2_V5_8_1200-768x1205.jpg 768w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2017/04/L16_56_6_2_V5_8_1200-1020x1601.jpg 1020w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2017/04/L16_56_6_2_V5_8_1200-1180x1852.jpg 1180w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2017/04/L16_56_6_2_V5_8_1200-960x1506.jpg 960w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2017/04/L16_56_6_2_V5_8_1200-240x377.jpg 240w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2017/04/L16_56_6_2_V5_8_1200-375x588.jpg 375w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2017/04/L16_56_6_2_V5_8_1200-520x816.jpg 520w\" sizes=\"auto, (max-width: 1200px) 100vw, 1200px\">\u003cfigcaption class=\"wp-caption-text\">Linda Gravenites, Handbag, ca. 1967. \u003ccite>(Courtesy of FAMSF)\u003c/cite>\u003c/figcaption>\u003c/figure>\n\u003cp>But in these textiles, another missed opportunity: The exhibition catalog mentions the San Francisco Redevelopment Agency’s 1960s campaign to destroy the historically black Fillmore neighborhood—but only in the context of the boon this displacement provided to the city’s thrift stores, and hence, to the hippies fashioning creative costumes from flea market finds. Really. In the exhibition itself, this shameful “urban renewal” in the Fillmore bears no mention. (Also in the catalog but not in the show: the draft-dodging origins of tie-dye at the Haight’s Free Store, explored in Detour’s immersive \u003ca href=\"https://ww2.kqed.org/arts/2016/01/13/haight-ashbury-peter-coyote-tour/\" target=\"_blank\" rel=\"noopener noreferrer\">Haight-Ashbury Walking Tour\u003c/a>.)\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>The final gallery, before the exhibition empties into \u003ci>The Summer of Love Experience\u003c/i> gift shop, tries to sum up the politics of the era in a grab-bag of issues: the Black Panthers, the Pill, Vietnam War protests, draft resistance, sex positivity. If it’s intended to be a summation, a nod to the era’s enduring legacy and a connecting thread to the present, the result is tepid at best—especially with the wall text’s vague rah-rah claim that “fifty years later, government policies resulting from such interventions render a way of life in the West that would have been unimaginable to all but the surest of sixties visionaries.” This final gallery would have benefited from a few more pieces and a lot more breathing room, especially considering the overwhelming whiteness and maleness of the characters we’ve been taught to celebrate from this time period in San Francisco’s history—none of whom receive substantial critique in the preceding rooms.\u003c/p>\n\u003cfigure id=\"attachment_13042305\" class=\"wp-caption aligncenter\" style=\"max-width: 1200px\">\u003cimg loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" class=\"size-full wp-image-13042305\" src=\"https://ww2.kqed.org/arts/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2017/04/L16_56_15_1_V1_8_1200.jpg\" alt=\"Birgitta Bjerke (100% Birgitta), 'Pioneer,' ca. 1972-1973.\" width=\"1200\" height=\"959\" srcset=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2017/04/L16_56_15_1_V1_8_1200.jpg 1200w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2017/04/L16_56_15_1_V1_8_1200-160x128.jpg 160w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2017/04/L16_56_15_1_V1_8_1200-800x639.jpg 800w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2017/04/L16_56_15_1_V1_8_1200-768x614.jpg 768w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2017/04/L16_56_15_1_V1_8_1200-1020x815.jpg 1020w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2017/04/L16_56_15_1_V1_8_1200-1180x943.jpg 1180w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2017/04/L16_56_15_1_V1_8_1200-960x767.jpg 960w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2017/04/L16_56_15_1_V1_8_1200-240x192.jpg 240w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2017/04/L16_56_15_1_V1_8_1200-375x300.jpg 375w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2017/04/L16_56_15_1_V1_8_1200-520x416.jpg 520w\" sizes=\"auto, (max-width: 1200px) 100vw, 1200px\">\u003cfigcaption class=\"wp-caption-text\">Birgitta Bjerke (100% Birgitta), ‘Pioneer,’ ca. 1972-1973. \u003ccite>(Courtesy of FAMSF)\u003c/cite>\u003c/figcaption>\u003c/figure>\n\u003cp>The Panthers, in particular—who had, by the summer of 1967, opened a storefront in Oakland, published their Ten-Point Program, and garnered national attention for entering the California State Assembly carrying guns to protest the Mulford Act—are represented only by a handful of Ruth Marion Baruch and Pirkle Jones photographs, unless we missed something. The movement was far better represented in the \u003ca href=\"http://museumca.org/gallery/all-power-people-black-panthers-50\" target=\"_blank\" rel=\"noopener noreferrer\">Oakland Museum of California’s sprawling and comprehensive 2016 exhibit\u003c/a>.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Back upstairs on Thursday night, the party—“anti-war protesters” and all—was just getting going. While attendees drank lime green Midori-and-tequila cocktails labeled “battery acid” to the sounds of “White Rabbit,” we asked one of the sign-carrying protesters if he was, in fact, pulling double duty as part of the band. The be-wigged gentleman, carrying light-up bowling pins, answered, “We’re all in the band called life, man.”\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Near the exit, a de Young employee handed us each a bright Gerbera daisy. Then we made our way through the rain and wind to the faux street signs marking the entrance to the building—each one noting an “intersection” of the past and present: hippie and hipster, free love and marriage equality. A strong gust whipped the flowers from our hands right about then, which was fine. There were new notifications on our phones to check. Likely, there was something fresh worth protesting.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cimg loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" class=\"aligncenter size-full wp-image-12127869\" src=\"https://ww2.kqed.org/arts/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2016/09/Q.Logo_.Break_.jpg\" alt=\"Q.Logo.Break\" width=\"800\" height=\"78\" srcset=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2016/09/Q.Logo_.Break_.jpg 800w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2016/09/Q.Logo_.Break_-400x39.jpg 400w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2016/09/Q.Logo_.Break_-768x75.jpg 768w\" sizes=\"auto, (max-width: 800px) 100vw, 800px\">\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>[ad floatright]\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003ci>‘The Summer of Love Experience: Art, Fashion, and Rock & Roll’ is on view at San Francisco’s de Young Museum through Aug. 20. For tickets and more information, \u003ca href=\"https://deyoung.famsf.org/summer-love-art-fashion-and-rock-roll\" target=\"_blank\" rel=\"noopener noreferrer\">click here\u003c/a>.\u003c/i>\u003c/p>\n\n",
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"excerpt": "In honor of the Summer of Love's 50th anniversary, the museum rehashes surface-level aesthetics, fashion and ephemera from 1967 — with barely any connection to today.",
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"title": "At the de Young, the 'Summer of Love Experience' Is a Broken Record | KQED",
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"content": "\u003cdiv class=\"post-body\">\u003cp>\u003cp>It was a stormy evening on Thursday, April 6, but inside the lobby of the \u003ca href=\"https://deyoung.famsf.org/\" target=\"_blank\" rel=\"noopener noreferrer\">de Young Museum\u003c/a>, a warm glow emanated from lava lamps propped on the makeshift bar. Large, flower-adorned peace signs topped a pair of appetizer tables (pita and hummus, couscous salads, goblets of shrimp) while an ambiguous psychedelic tribute band—decked out in bell-bottoms, colorful vests and questionable Afro wigs—swayed on platforms and played bongos in front of a neon-lit wall.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Yes, this was the press preview/donor reception for the museum’s new exhibit celebrating the 50th anniversary of the Summer of Love. \u003ca href=\"https://deyoung.famsf.org/summer-love-art-fashion-and-rock-roll\" target=\"_blank\" rel=\"noopener noreferrer\">\u003ci>The Summer of Love Experience: Art, Fashion, and Rock & Roll\u003c/i>\u003c/a>, on view now through Aug. 20, is the kind of programming every San Francisco institution is apparently required to produce by law (a.k.a. a strong promotion from \u003ca href=\"http://www.sftravel.com/summer-love-2017\" target=\"_blank\" rel=\"noopener noreferrer\">the city’s tourism bureau\u003c/a>) during the summer of 2017. Haven’t you heard? There are concerts, talks, and photo shows. There’s a \u003ca href=\"https://magicbussf.com/tour/anniversary-summer-of-love/\" target=\"_blank\" rel=\"noopener noreferrer\">Magic Bus Experience\u003c/a>. There’s an ongoing \u003ca href=\"http://summerof.love/event/love-boutique-opening-reception-penthouse-five-inside-neiman-marcus-union-square/\" target=\"_blank\" rel=\"noopener noreferrer\">’60s fashion boutique at the Neiman Marcus penthouse in Union Square\u003c/a>.\u003c/p>\n\u003cfigure id=\"attachment_13042303\" class=\"wp-caption aligncenter\" style=\"max-width: 1200px\">\u003cimg loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" class=\"size-full wp-image-13042303\" src=\"https://ww2.kqed.org/arts/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2017/04/0864-Deyoung-170406_1200.jpg\" alt=\"Performers "protesting" at 'The Summer of Love Experience' donor reception at de Young Museum.\" width=\"1200\" height=\"800\" srcset=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2017/04/0864-Deyoung-170406_1200.jpg 1200w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2017/04/0864-Deyoung-170406_1200-160x107.jpg 160w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2017/04/0864-Deyoung-170406_1200-800x533.jpg 800w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2017/04/0864-Deyoung-170406_1200-768x512.jpg 768w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2017/04/0864-Deyoung-170406_1200-1020x680.jpg 1020w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2017/04/0864-Deyoung-170406_1200-1180x787.jpg 1180w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2017/04/0864-Deyoung-170406_1200-960x640.jpg 960w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2017/04/0864-Deyoung-170406_1200-240x160.jpg 240w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2017/04/0864-Deyoung-170406_1200-375x250.jpg 375w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2017/04/0864-Deyoung-170406_1200-520x347.jpg 520w\" sizes=\"auto, (max-width: 1200px) 100vw, 1200px\">\u003cfigcaption class=\"wp-caption-text\">Performers “protesting” at ‘The Summer of Love Experience’ donor reception at de Young Museum. \u003ccite>(Devlin Shand for Drew Altizer Photography)\u003c/cite>\u003c/figcaption>\u003c/figure>\n\u003cp>And, for an hour or so on Thursday night at the de Young—as the band turned into a team of cutesy, costumed “protesters” who picked up “Make Love Not War” signs and paraded groovily through the party with their bongos \u003ci>at the precise moment\u003c/i> every journalist in the room got a push notification announcing the U.S. had just launched missiles into Syria—there was a degree of tone-deafness that bordered on surreal. It was, in fact, the perfect encapsulation of the entire exhibition’s myopia.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Let’s get one thing out of the way: We are not convinced any of this summer’s grand re-telling is necessary. As California natives in our early 30s, we’ve grown up in the persistent shadow of the Summer of Love, a specter of San Francisco in the sixties as sacred text—the prophets Jerry Garcia, Ken Kesey and Bill Graham untouchable in their retroactive glory. These people, and this era, are not lacking memorialization: the stories of the Haight-Ashbury, the Human Be-In, the drugs, the free love—they have been told many times, by many people, in books and movies and American history courses.\u003c/p>\n\u003cfigure id=\"attachment_13042313\" class=\"wp-caption aligncenter\" style=\"max-width: 1200px\">\u003cimg loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" class=\"size-full wp-image-13042313\" src=\"https://ww2.kqed.org/arts/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2017/04/2017_DEY_SOL_Exhibition_Install_V59_1200.jpg\" alt=\"Installation view of Haight Street Gallery in 'The Summer of Love Experience.'\" width=\"1200\" height=\"900\" srcset=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2017/04/2017_DEY_SOL_Exhibition_Install_V59_1200.jpg 1200w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2017/04/2017_DEY_SOL_Exhibition_Install_V59_1200-160x120.jpg 160w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2017/04/2017_DEY_SOL_Exhibition_Install_V59_1200-800x600.jpg 800w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2017/04/2017_DEY_SOL_Exhibition_Install_V59_1200-768x576.jpg 768w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2017/04/2017_DEY_SOL_Exhibition_Install_V59_1200-1020x765.jpg 1020w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2017/04/2017_DEY_SOL_Exhibition_Install_V59_1200-1180x885.jpg 1180w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2017/04/2017_DEY_SOL_Exhibition_Install_V59_1200-960x720.jpg 960w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2017/04/2017_DEY_SOL_Exhibition_Install_V59_1200-240x180.jpg 240w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2017/04/2017_DEY_SOL_Exhibition_Install_V59_1200-375x281.jpg 375w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2017/04/2017_DEY_SOL_Exhibition_Install_V59_1200-520x390.jpg 520w\" sizes=\"auto, (max-width: 1200px) 100vw, 1200px\">\u003cfigcaption class=\"wp-caption-text\">Installation view of Haight Street Gallery in ‘The Summer of Love Experience.’ \u003ccite>(Courtesy of FAMSF)\u003c/cite>\u003c/figcaption>\u003c/figure>\n\u003cp>The way yet another rehashing might justify itself, then, is by adding something new to this fairly recent history. (See BAMPFA’s excellent \u003ci>\u003ca href=\"https://ww2.kqed.org/arts/2017/02/28/at-bampfa-hippie-modernism-proves-the-fight-for-utopia-is-far-from-over/\" target=\"_blank\" rel=\"noopener noreferrer\">Hippie Modernism: The Struggle for Utopia\u003c/a>\u003c/i>, for example.) Give us an exhibit that offers a clear-eyed critique of what truthfully was a brief social experiment, notes its shortcomings along with its joys. Give us context. At the very least, give us some intellectual honesty: an exploration of what really happened, who it affected, why it ended, and how it shaped the San Francisco (and United States) we currently inhabit.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003c/p>\u003c/div>",
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"content": "\u003cdiv class=\"post-body\">\u003cp>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Perhaps some of this summer’s yet-unopened exhibits will offer this. \u003ci>The Summer of Love Experience\u003c/i> at the de Young does not.\u003c/p>\n\u003cfigure id=\"attachment_13042304\" class=\"wp-caption aligncenter\" style=\"max-width: 1200px\">\u003cimg loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" class=\"size-full wp-image-13042304\" src=\"https://ww2.kqed.org/arts/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2017/04/1202-DeYoung-170406_1200.jpg\" alt=\"A museum-goer inside Bill Ham's 'Kinetic Light Painting, 2016-2017.\" width=\"1200\" height=\"800\" srcset=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2017/04/1202-DeYoung-170406_1200.jpg 1200w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2017/04/1202-DeYoung-170406_1200-160x107.jpg 160w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2017/04/1202-DeYoung-170406_1200-800x533.jpg 800w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2017/04/1202-DeYoung-170406_1200-768x512.jpg 768w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2017/04/1202-DeYoung-170406_1200-1020x680.jpg 1020w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2017/04/1202-DeYoung-170406_1200-1180x787.jpg 1180w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2017/04/1202-DeYoung-170406_1200-960x640.jpg 960w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2017/04/1202-DeYoung-170406_1200-240x160.jpg 240w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2017/04/1202-DeYoung-170406_1200-375x250.jpg 375w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2017/04/1202-DeYoung-170406_1200-520x347.jpg 520w\" sizes=\"auto, (max-width: 1200px) 100vw, 1200px\">\u003cfigcaption class=\"wp-caption-text\">A museum-goer inside Bill Ham’s ‘Kinetic Light Painting, 2016-2017. \u003ccite>(Drew Altizer Photography)\u003c/cite>\u003c/figcaption>\u003c/figure>\n\u003cp>What it does provide is a bright, colorful celebration of the aesthetics of the time period, and if you are fascinated by those, as many will be, by all means go see it. Over the long, weaving course of 10 galleries—including one selfie-ready space designed by liquid light show veteran Bill Ham—we get psychedelic rock show posters on top of posters, a giant bedspread once intended for Grateful Dead guitarist Bob Weir, record sleeves, book covers, and pins (so many pins). Somehow overwhelming without diving beneath the surface of the era’s aesthetics, the show seems intent on proving it’s possible to have, at the same time, too much and not enough.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>We’ll allow there are interesting artifacts to behold: The collection of nearly 150 posters and handbills from Bay Area music venues anchors the exhibition, and many of them are indeed beautiful. The area devoted to demonstrating the lithographic process by which they were made is also worthwhile; Stanley Mouse, Wes Wilson and their compatriots from this era of poster art deserve all the recognition they’ve received over the past 50 years.\u003c/p>\n\u003cfigure id=\"attachment_13042306\" class=\"wp-caption aligncenter\" style=\"max-width: 1200px\">\u003cimg loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" class=\"size-full wp-image-13042306\" src=\"https://ww2.kqed.org/arts/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2017/04/Schnepf_Summer-of-Love_1200.jpg\" alt=\"Left: Bob Schnepf, 'Summer of Love/City of San Francisco,' 1967. Right: Victor Moscoso, Pablo Ferro film advertisement, 1967.\" width=\"1200\" height=\"802\" srcset=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2017/04/Schnepf_Summer-of-Love_1200.jpg 1200w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2017/04/Schnepf_Summer-of-Love_1200-160x107.jpg 160w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2017/04/Schnepf_Summer-of-Love_1200-800x535.jpg 800w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2017/04/Schnepf_Summer-of-Love_1200-768x513.jpg 768w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2017/04/Schnepf_Summer-of-Love_1200-1020x682.jpg 1020w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2017/04/Schnepf_Summer-of-Love_1200-1180x789.jpg 1180w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2017/04/Schnepf_Summer-of-Love_1200-960x642.jpg 960w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2017/04/Schnepf_Summer-of-Love_1200-240x160.jpg 240w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2017/04/Schnepf_Summer-of-Love_1200-375x251.jpg 375w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2017/04/Schnepf_Summer-of-Love_1200-520x348.jpg 520w\" sizes=\"auto, (max-width: 1200px) 100vw, 1200px\">\u003cfigcaption class=\"wp-caption-text\">Left: Bob Schnepf, ‘Summer of Love/City of San Francisco,’ 1967. Right: Victor Moscoso, Pablo Ferro film advertisement, 1967. \u003ccite>(Courtesy of FAMSF)\u003c/cite>\u003c/figcaption>\u003c/figure>\n\u003cp>But after reading a short explanation of \u003ca href=\"https://ww2.kqed.org/arts/2016/11/10/hyde-street-rock-how-wally-heider-and-the-tenderloin-shaped-the-san-francisco-sound/\" target=\"_blank\" rel=\"noopener noreferrer\">The San Francisco Sound\u003c/a>, one is also left with the feeling that we’re being asked (yet again) to revere this era for the sake of reverence, in the name of pure rose-colored folklore, and in the dullest kind of vacuum. Sure, the Grateful Dead and Jefferson Airplane have come to represent not just a musical moment but a tribe, a lifestyle. Can we discuss what came after? What bands they influenced, or even what they stood for? Where can their nonconformist message still be felt in present-day San Francisco, where capitalism run amok has made it difficult if not impossible for artists to survive? Put bluntly: \u003cem>Why are we still talking about this\u003c/em>? If it’s for reasons other than to tickle donors and tourists who came of age during this period and will smile fondly at the memories, please show us those.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>In the meantime: Right this way, please. We have Jerry Garcia’s hat.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003ci>The Summer of Love Experience\u003c/i> does devote a considerable amount of floorspace to the era’s clothing designers and trends, a welcome bit of tangibility in an otherwise ephemera-filled exhibition. Mannequins sport customized jeans, maxi peasant dresses and Native American-inspired leather fringe; Birgitta Bjerke’s crocheted work is a standout. Behind this vitrine—drumroll please—we even have the companion piece to Garcia’s Uncle Sam headgear: Janis Joplin’s handbag, intricately embroidered by Linda Gravenites.\u003c/p>\n\u003cfigure id=\"attachment_13042314\" class=\"wp-caption aligncenter\" style=\"max-width: 1200px\">\u003cimg loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" class=\"size-full wp-image-13042314\" src=\"https://ww2.kqed.org/arts/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2017/04/L16_56_6_2_V5_8_1200.jpg\" alt=\"Linda Gravenites, Handbag, ca. 1967.\" width=\"1200\" height=\"1883\" srcset=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2017/04/L16_56_6_2_V5_8_1200.jpg 1200w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2017/04/L16_56_6_2_V5_8_1200-160x251.jpg 160w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2017/04/L16_56_6_2_V5_8_1200-800x1255.jpg 800w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2017/04/L16_56_6_2_V5_8_1200-768x1205.jpg 768w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2017/04/L16_56_6_2_V5_8_1200-1020x1601.jpg 1020w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2017/04/L16_56_6_2_V5_8_1200-1180x1852.jpg 1180w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2017/04/L16_56_6_2_V5_8_1200-960x1506.jpg 960w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2017/04/L16_56_6_2_V5_8_1200-240x377.jpg 240w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2017/04/L16_56_6_2_V5_8_1200-375x588.jpg 375w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2017/04/L16_56_6_2_V5_8_1200-520x816.jpg 520w\" sizes=\"auto, (max-width: 1200px) 100vw, 1200px\">\u003cfigcaption class=\"wp-caption-text\">Linda Gravenites, Handbag, ca. 1967. \u003ccite>(Courtesy of FAMSF)\u003c/cite>\u003c/figcaption>\u003c/figure>\n\u003cp>But in these textiles, another missed opportunity: The exhibition catalog mentions the San Francisco Redevelopment Agency’s 1960s campaign to destroy the historically black Fillmore neighborhood—but only in the context of the boon this displacement provided to the city’s thrift stores, and hence, to the hippies fashioning creative costumes from flea market finds. Really. In the exhibition itself, this shameful “urban renewal” in the Fillmore bears no mention. (Also in the catalog but not in the show: the draft-dodging origins of tie-dye at the Haight’s Free Store, explored in Detour’s immersive \u003ca href=\"https://ww2.kqed.org/arts/2016/01/13/haight-ashbury-peter-coyote-tour/\" target=\"_blank\" rel=\"noopener noreferrer\">Haight-Ashbury Walking Tour\u003c/a>.)\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>The final gallery, before the exhibition empties into \u003ci>The Summer of Love Experience\u003c/i> gift shop, tries to sum up the politics of the era in a grab-bag of issues: the Black Panthers, the Pill, Vietnam War protests, draft resistance, sex positivity. If it’s intended to be a summation, a nod to the era’s enduring legacy and a connecting thread to the present, the result is tepid at best—especially with the wall text’s vague rah-rah claim that “fifty years later, government policies resulting from such interventions render a way of life in the West that would have been unimaginable to all but the surest of sixties visionaries.” This final gallery would have benefited from a few more pieces and a lot more breathing room, especially considering the overwhelming whiteness and maleness of the characters we’ve been taught to celebrate from this time period in San Francisco’s history—none of whom receive substantial critique in the preceding rooms.\u003c/p>\n\u003cfigure id=\"attachment_13042305\" class=\"wp-caption aligncenter\" style=\"max-width: 1200px\">\u003cimg loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" class=\"size-full wp-image-13042305\" src=\"https://ww2.kqed.org/arts/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2017/04/L16_56_15_1_V1_8_1200.jpg\" alt=\"Birgitta Bjerke (100% Birgitta), 'Pioneer,' ca. 1972-1973.\" width=\"1200\" height=\"959\" srcset=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2017/04/L16_56_15_1_V1_8_1200.jpg 1200w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2017/04/L16_56_15_1_V1_8_1200-160x128.jpg 160w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2017/04/L16_56_15_1_V1_8_1200-800x639.jpg 800w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2017/04/L16_56_15_1_V1_8_1200-768x614.jpg 768w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2017/04/L16_56_15_1_V1_8_1200-1020x815.jpg 1020w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2017/04/L16_56_15_1_V1_8_1200-1180x943.jpg 1180w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2017/04/L16_56_15_1_V1_8_1200-960x767.jpg 960w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2017/04/L16_56_15_1_V1_8_1200-240x192.jpg 240w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2017/04/L16_56_15_1_V1_8_1200-375x300.jpg 375w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2017/04/L16_56_15_1_V1_8_1200-520x416.jpg 520w\" sizes=\"auto, (max-width: 1200px) 100vw, 1200px\">\u003cfigcaption class=\"wp-caption-text\">Birgitta Bjerke (100% Birgitta), ‘Pioneer,’ ca. 1972-1973. \u003ccite>(Courtesy of FAMSF)\u003c/cite>\u003c/figcaption>\u003c/figure>\n\u003cp>The Panthers, in particular—who had, by the summer of 1967, opened a storefront in Oakland, published their Ten-Point Program, and garnered national attention for entering the California State Assembly carrying guns to protest the Mulford Act—are represented only by a handful of Ruth Marion Baruch and Pirkle Jones photographs, unless we missed something. The movement was far better represented in the \u003ca href=\"http://museumca.org/gallery/all-power-people-black-panthers-50\" target=\"_blank\" rel=\"noopener noreferrer\">Oakland Museum of California’s sprawling and comprehensive 2016 exhibit\u003c/a>.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Back upstairs on Thursday night, the party—“anti-war protesters” and all—was just getting going. While attendees drank lime green Midori-and-tequila cocktails labeled “battery acid” to the sounds of “White Rabbit,” we asked one of the sign-carrying protesters if he was, in fact, pulling double duty as part of the band. The be-wigged gentleman, carrying light-up bowling pins, answered, “We’re all in the band called life, man.”\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Near the exit, a de Young employee handed us each a bright Gerbera daisy. Then we made our way through the rain and wind to the faux street signs marking the entrance to the building—each one noting an “intersection” of the past and present: hippie and hipster, free love and marriage equality. A strong gust whipped the flowers from our hands right about then, which was fine. There were new notifications on our phones to check. Likely, there was something fresh worth protesting.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cimg loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" class=\"aligncenter size-full wp-image-12127869\" src=\"https://ww2.kqed.org/arts/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2016/09/Q.Logo_.Break_.jpg\" alt=\"Q.Logo.Break\" width=\"800\" height=\"78\" srcset=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2016/09/Q.Logo_.Break_.jpg 800w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2016/09/Q.Logo_.Break_-400x39.jpg 400w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2016/09/Q.Logo_.Break_-768x75.jpg 768w\" sizes=\"auto, (max-width: 800px) 100vw, 800px\">\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003c/p>\u003c/div>",
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"content": "\u003cdiv class=\"post-body\">\u003cp>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003ci>‘The Summer of Love Experience: Art, Fashion, and Rock & Roll’ is on view at San Francisco’s de Young Museum through Aug. 20. For tickets and more information, \u003ca href=\"https://deyoung.famsf.org/summer-love-art-fashion-and-rock-roll\" target=\"_blank\" rel=\"noopener noreferrer\">click here\u003c/a>.\u003c/i>\u003c/p>\n\n\u003c/div>\u003c/p>",
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"title": "Long-Buried Secrets, Scampering Dreams and a Cat That Talks: 'Eartha'",
"headTitle": "Long-Buried Secrets, Scampering Dreams and a Cat That Talks: ‘Eartha’ | KQED",
"content": "\u003cp>Cathy Malkasian creates fantastic worlds out of her proprietary blend of melancholy and dream-logic, and peoples them with characters who are all too dully, achingly human. Her landscapes and cityscapes, rendered in gorgeous colored pencils, can seem as chilly and remote as her facial expressions seem warm and intimate.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>In graphic novels like \u003cem>Temperance\u003c/em>, about the lies that the citizens of a walled-off city tell themselves, and in her two \u003cem>Percy Gloom\u003c/em> books, a gentle absurdism asserts itself so quietly that story elements like talking goats and heads that glow come off like prosaic details.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>That’s important, because without a sense of assured, implacable groundedness, Malkasian’s narratives could easily feel labored, built as they are on such baroque, involuted infrastructure.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>To wit: the opening pages of \u003cem>Eartha\u003c/em>, Malkasian’s latest, ask the reader to unpack a series of high-concept premises, any one of which could form the basis of its own book:\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>1. Eartha, “big as a boulder and softer than the moss that grew on it,” lives in Echo Fjord, a bucolic land and whose citizens harvest dreams.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>[ad fullwidth]\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>2. Said dreams belong to the residents of a faraway city.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>3. The dreams that grow out of the ground are detained, and a thick paste called shadow applied to them, to keep them from floating away.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>4. The dreams’ minders touch the dreams to provide “a boost of energy to ignite them back into themselves.”\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>5. The dreams then scamper through Echo Fjord toward a doorway, giving off brilliant rays of light out of the top of their heads.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>6. As they pass through the doorway, they dissolve, having achieved their purpose.\u003c/p>\n\u003cfigure id=\"attachment_13037935\" class=\"wp-caption aligncenter\" style=\"max-width: 800px\">\u003cimg loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" src=\"https://ww2.kqed.org/arts/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2017/04/eartha_2_custom-6378fa846d63fec08323b3612cdedd8a97cc608f-800x656.jpg\" alt=\"In Cathy Malkasian's 'Eartha,' the title character first enters The City.\" width=\"800\" height=\"656\" class=\"size-medium wp-image-13037935\" srcset=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2017/04/eartha_2_custom-6378fa846d63fec08323b3612cdedd8a97cc608f-800x656.jpg 800w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2017/04/eartha_2_custom-6378fa846d63fec08323b3612cdedd8a97cc608f-160x131.jpg 160w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2017/04/eartha_2_custom-6378fa846d63fec08323b3612cdedd8a97cc608f-768x630.jpg 768w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2017/04/eartha_2_custom-6378fa846d63fec08323b3612cdedd8a97cc608f-960x787.jpg 960w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2017/04/eartha_2_custom-6378fa846d63fec08323b3612cdedd8a97cc608f-240x197.jpg 240w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2017/04/eartha_2_custom-6378fa846d63fec08323b3612cdedd8a97cc608f-375x307.jpg 375w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2017/04/eartha_2_custom-6378fa846d63fec08323b3612cdedd8a97cc608f-520x426.jpg 520w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2017/04/eartha_2_custom-6378fa846d63fec08323b3612cdedd8a97cc608f.jpg 1016w\" sizes=\"(max-width: 800px) 100vw, 800px\">\u003cfigcaption class=\"wp-caption-text\">In Cathy Malkasian’s ‘Eartha,’ the title character first enters The City. \u003ccite>(Fantagraphics Books)\u003c/cite>\u003c/figcaption>\u003c/figure>\n\u003cp>That’s … a lot to take in, granted, but Malkasian is so careful and considered in rendering the array of dreams (the sad, the joyous, the horny and the hateful) that we don’t notice how much narrative work she’s doing.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>In the pages that follow, Eartha will depart her homeland to make her way to the nameless city, where she — and we — will meet the men and women who sent those dreams to her people across the vast sea. Unguessed-at connections among them will come to light; insights gained in those opening pages will aid Eartha in her quest (as will a talking cat, an intoxicating plum tree, and an old woman who knows more than she’s letting on).\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Such steel-trap plotting is something new from Malkasian, whose previous graphic novels have felt free to abandon familiar storytelling structure to double-down on some surreal image or theme. She’s consistently shown an eagerness to walk the line between fabulist fiction and social satire, and Eartha is no different: the city’s residents are addicted to biscuits printed with headlines of lurid tragedy (“Sinister Dandruff Muzzle Hen! Septic Jackass Gambles Naked! Prominent Orgy Provokes Rabies!”), and are ruled by thuggish, Mussolini-like figures who encourage the populace to embrace dull-eyed cynicism and performative despair.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Eartha will win the day, of course, because she maintains the ability to feel, and dream, and her sense of fairness will protect her from the city’s corrupt politicians and its emotionally bankrupt fascination with the ugliness of life.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Eartha is an extended dream with a fixed moral compass, a story about the central and transformative power of believing in humanity, even when — \u003cem>especially\u003c/em> when — it lets you down. \u003c/p>\n\u003cdiv class=\"fullattribution\">Copyright 2017 NPR. To see more, visit http://www.npr.org/.\u003cimg decoding=\"async\" src=\"https://www.google-analytics.com/__utm.gif?utmac=UA-5828686-4&utmdt=Long-Buried+Secrets%2C+Scampering+Dreams+And+A+Cat+That+Talks%3A+%27Eartha%27&utme=8(APIKey)9(MDAxOTAwOTE4MDEyMTkxMDAzNjczZDljZA004)\">\u003c/div>\n\u003cfigure id=\"attachment_13037936\" class=\"wp-caption aligncenter\" style=\"max-width: 800px\">\u003cimg loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" src=\"https://ww2.kqed.org/arts/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2017/04/eartha_3_custom-1b22f2ce1fff398626d8f08f05847f8d7b3369fb-800x677.jpg\" alt=\"Eartha comes across the Biscuit Tower, in Cathy Malkasian's 'Eartha.'\" width=\"800\" height=\"677\" class=\"size-medium wp-image-13037936\" srcset=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2017/04/eartha_3_custom-1b22f2ce1fff398626d8f08f05847f8d7b3369fb-800x677.jpg 800w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2017/04/eartha_3_custom-1b22f2ce1fff398626d8f08f05847f8d7b3369fb-160x135.jpg 160w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2017/04/eartha_3_custom-1b22f2ce1fff398626d8f08f05847f8d7b3369fb-768x650.jpg 768w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2017/04/eartha_3_custom-1b22f2ce1fff398626d8f08f05847f8d7b3369fb-1020x863.jpg 1020w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2017/04/eartha_3_custom-1b22f2ce1fff398626d8f08f05847f8d7b3369fb-960x812.jpg 960w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2017/04/eartha_3_custom-1b22f2ce1fff398626d8f08f05847f8d7b3369fb-240x203.jpg 240w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2017/04/eartha_3_custom-1b22f2ce1fff398626d8f08f05847f8d7b3369fb-375x317.jpg 375w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2017/04/eartha_3_custom-1b22f2ce1fff398626d8f08f05847f8d7b3369fb-520x440.jpg 520w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2017/04/eartha_3_custom-1b22f2ce1fff398626d8f08f05847f8d7b3369fb.jpg 1065w\" sizes=\"(max-width: 800px) 100vw, 800px\">\u003cfigcaption class=\"wp-caption-text\">Eartha comes across the Biscuit Tower, in Cathy Malkasian’s ‘Eartha.’ \u003ccite>(Fantagraphic Books)\u003c/cite>\u003c/figcaption>\u003c/figure>\n\n",
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"content": "\u003cdiv class=\"post-body\">\u003cp>\u003cp>Cathy Malkasian creates fantastic worlds out of her proprietary blend of melancholy and dream-logic, and peoples them with characters who are all too dully, achingly human. Her landscapes and cityscapes, rendered in gorgeous colored pencils, can seem as chilly and remote as her facial expressions seem warm and intimate.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>In graphic novels like \u003cem>Temperance\u003c/em>, about the lies that the citizens of a walled-off city tell themselves, and in her two \u003cem>Percy Gloom\u003c/em> books, a gentle absurdism asserts itself so quietly that story elements like talking goats and heads that glow come off like prosaic details.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>That’s important, because without a sense of assured, implacable groundedness, Malkasian’s narratives could easily feel labored, built as they are on such baroque, involuted infrastructure.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>To wit: the opening pages of \u003cem>Eartha\u003c/em>, Malkasian’s latest, ask the reader to unpack a series of high-concept premises, any one of which could form the basis of its own book:\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>1. Eartha, “big as a boulder and softer than the moss that grew on it,” lives in Echo Fjord, a bucolic land and whose citizens harvest dreams.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003c/p>\u003c/div>",
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"content": "\u003cdiv class=\"post-body\">\u003cp>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>2. Said dreams belong to the residents of a faraway city.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>3. The dreams that grow out of the ground are detained, and a thick paste called shadow applied to them, to keep them from floating away.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>4. The dreams’ minders touch the dreams to provide “a boost of energy to ignite them back into themselves.”\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>5. The dreams then scamper through Echo Fjord toward a doorway, giving off brilliant rays of light out of the top of their heads.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>6. As they pass through the doorway, they dissolve, having achieved their purpose.\u003c/p>\n\u003cfigure id=\"attachment_13037935\" class=\"wp-caption aligncenter\" style=\"max-width: 800px\">\u003cimg loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" src=\"https://ww2.kqed.org/arts/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2017/04/eartha_2_custom-6378fa846d63fec08323b3612cdedd8a97cc608f-800x656.jpg\" alt=\"In Cathy Malkasian's 'Eartha,' the title character first enters The City.\" width=\"800\" height=\"656\" class=\"size-medium wp-image-13037935\" srcset=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2017/04/eartha_2_custom-6378fa846d63fec08323b3612cdedd8a97cc608f-800x656.jpg 800w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2017/04/eartha_2_custom-6378fa846d63fec08323b3612cdedd8a97cc608f-160x131.jpg 160w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2017/04/eartha_2_custom-6378fa846d63fec08323b3612cdedd8a97cc608f-768x630.jpg 768w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2017/04/eartha_2_custom-6378fa846d63fec08323b3612cdedd8a97cc608f-960x787.jpg 960w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2017/04/eartha_2_custom-6378fa846d63fec08323b3612cdedd8a97cc608f-240x197.jpg 240w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2017/04/eartha_2_custom-6378fa846d63fec08323b3612cdedd8a97cc608f-375x307.jpg 375w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2017/04/eartha_2_custom-6378fa846d63fec08323b3612cdedd8a97cc608f-520x426.jpg 520w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2017/04/eartha_2_custom-6378fa846d63fec08323b3612cdedd8a97cc608f.jpg 1016w\" sizes=\"(max-width: 800px) 100vw, 800px\">\u003cfigcaption class=\"wp-caption-text\">In Cathy Malkasian’s ‘Eartha,’ the title character first enters The City. \u003ccite>(Fantagraphics Books)\u003c/cite>\u003c/figcaption>\u003c/figure>\n\u003cp>That’s … a lot to take in, granted, but Malkasian is so careful and considered in rendering the array of dreams (the sad, the joyous, the horny and the hateful) that we don’t notice how much narrative work she’s doing.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>In the pages that follow, Eartha will depart her homeland to make her way to the nameless city, where she — and we — will meet the men and women who sent those dreams to her people across the vast sea. Unguessed-at connections among them will come to light; insights gained in those opening pages will aid Eartha in her quest (as will a talking cat, an intoxicating plum tree, and an old woman who knows more than she’s letting on).\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Such steel-trap plotting is something new from Malkasian, whose previous graphic novels have felt free to abandon familiar storytelling structure to double-down on some surreal image or theme. She’s consistently shown an eagerness to walk the line between fabulist fiction and social satire, and Eartha is no different: the city’s residents are addicted to biscuits printed with headlines of lurid tragedy (“Sinister Dandruff Muzzle Hen! Septic Jackass Gambles Naked! Prominent Orgy Provokes Rabies!”), and are ruled by thuggish, Mussolini-like figures who encourage the populace to embrace dull-eyed cynicism and performative despair.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Eartha will win the day, of course, because she maintains the ability to feel, and dream, and her sense of fairness will protect her from the city’s corrupt politicians and its emotionally bankrupt fascination with the ugliness of life.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Eartha is an extended dream with a fixed moral compass, a story about the central and transformative power of believing in humanity, even when — \u003cem>especially\u003c/em> when — it lets you down. \u003c/p>\n\u003cdiv class=\"fullattribution\">Copyright 2017 NPR. To see more, visit http://www.npr.org/.\u003cimg decoding=\"async\" src=\"https://www.google-analytics.com/__utm.gif?utmac=UA-5828686-4&utmdt=Long-Buried+Secrets%2C+Scampering+Dreams+And+A+Cat+That+Talks%3A+%27Eartha%27&utme=8(APIKey)9(MDAxOTAwOTE4MDEyMTkxMDAzNjczZDljZA004)\">\u003c/div>\n\u003cfigure id=\"attachment_13037936\" class=\"wp-caption aligncenter\" style=\"max-width: 800px\">\u003cimg loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" src=\"https://ww2.kqed.org/arts/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2017/04/eartha_3_custom-1b22f2ce1fff398626d8f08f05847f8d7b3369fb-800x677.jpg\" alt=\"Eartha comes across the Biscuit Tower, in Cathy Malkasian's 'Eartha.'\" width=\"800\" height=\"677\" class=\"size-medium wp-image-13037936\" srcset=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2017/04/eartha_3_custom-1b22f2ce1fff398626d8f08f05847f8d7b3369fb-800x677.jpg 800w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2017/04/eartha_3_custom-1b22f2ce1fff398626d8f08f05847f8d7b3369fb-160x135.jpg 160w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2017/04/eartha_3_custom-1b22f2ce1fff398626d8f08f05847f8d7b3369fb-768x650.jpg 768w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2017/04/eartha_3_custom-1b22f2ce1fff398626d8f08f05847f8d7b3369fb-1020x863.jpg 1020w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2017/04/eartha_3_custom-1b22f2ce1fff398626d8f08f05847f8d7b3369fb-960x812.jpg 960w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2017/04/eartha_3_custom-1b22f2ce1fff398626d8f08f05847f8d7b3369fb-240x203.jpg 240w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2017/04/eartha_3_custom-1b22f2ce1fff398626d8f08f05847f8d7b3369fb-375x317.jpg 375w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2017/04/eartha_3_custom-1b22f2ce1fff398626d8f08f05847f8d7b3369fb-520x440.jpg 520w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2017/04/eartha_3_custom-1b22f2ce1fff398626d8f08f05847f8d7b3369fb.jpg 1065w\" sizes=\"(max-width: 800px) 100vw, 800px\">\u003cfigcaption class=\"wp-caption-text\">Eartha comes across the Biscuit Tower, in Cathy Malkasian’s ‘Eartha.’ \u003ccite>(Fantagraphic Books)\u003c/cite>\u003c/figcaption>\u003c/figure>\n\n\u003c/div>\u003c/p>",
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"slug": "wooster-group-reimagines-crazed-1971-feminist-debate-with-norman-mailer",
"title": "Wooster Group Reimagines Crazed 1971 Feminist Debate with Norman Mailer",
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"headTitle": "Wooster Group Reimagines Crazed 1971 Feminist Debate with Norman Mailer | KQED",
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"content": "\u003cp>One of the lovely aspects of Wooster Group productions under Liz LeCompte’s commanding direction is the way the actors just kind of stroll on stage. It’s as if we’ve caught them in the middle of an elaborate rehearsal meant for some future performance. But since we’re all here, well, why not? Let’s do it.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>So as he eases his way into \u003ca href=\"http://www.zspace.org/the-town-hall-affair/\" target=\"_blank\" rel=\"noopener\">\u003cem>Town Hall Affair\u003c/em>\u003c/a>, Scott Shepard casually explains the outrage among feminists caused by Norman Mailer’s 1971 article in \u003cem>Harper’s Magazine\u003c/em>, “\u003ca href=\"http://harpers.org/archive/1971/03/the-prisoner-of-sex/\" target=\"_blank\" rel=\"noopener\">The Prisoner of Sex.\u003c/a>” The actor explains that “someone came up with the idea of having an event at Town Hall in New York City in which Norman Mailer would confront and debate some members of the feminist movement.” He then points to the television monitor that hovers above the stage and informs us that “this event was filmed and made into a documentary by D.A. Pennebaker and Chris Hegedus.”\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>And there we have it: the real thing filmed, and its recreation, live on stage. It feels like a reversal of sorts, but is in actuality more of a brutal and aggressive haunting of the past, a grab at everything we’ve lost in spite of its preservation on film. Throughout the evening, what is missing will be as important as what is copied and recreated.\u003c/p>\n\u003cfigure id=\"attachment_13014749\" class=\"wp-caption aligncenter\" style=\"max-width: 800px\">\u003cimg loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" class=\"size-medium wp-image-13014749\" src=\"https://ww2.kqed.org/arts/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2017/04/TWG_The-Town-Hall-Affair_09_photo-by-Paula-Court_Scott-Shepherd_Kate-Valk_IMG_0730-e1491543097842-800x449.jpg\" alt=\"Norman Mailer 2 (Scott Shepard) and Village Voice columnist Jill Johnston (Kate Valk) go at in the Wooster Group's 'Town Hall Affair' directed by Liz LeCompte.\" width=\"800\" height=\"449\" srcset=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2017/04/TWG_The-Town-Hall-Affair_09_photo-by-Paula-Court_Scott-Shepherd_Kate-Valk_IMG_0730-e1491543097842-800x449.jpg 800w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2017/04/TWG_The-Town-Hall-Affair_09_photo-by-Paula-Court_Scott-Shepherd_Kate-Valk_IMG_0730-e1491543097842-160x90.jpg 160w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2017/04/TWG_The-Town-Hall-Affair_09_photo-by-Paula-Court_Scott-Shepherd_Kate-Valk_IMG_0730-e1491543097842-768x431.jpg 768w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2017/04/TWG_The-Town-Hall-Affair_09_photo-by-Paula-Court_Scott-Shepherd_Kate-Valk_IMG_0730-e1491543097842-1020x573.jpg 1020w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2017/04/TWG_The-Town-Hall-Affair_09_photo-by-Paula-Court_Scott-Shepherd_Kate-Valk_IMG_0730-e1491543097842-1920x1078.jpg 1920w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2017/04/TWG_The-Town-Hall-Affair_09_photo-by-Paula-Court_Scott-Shepherd_Kate-Valk_IMG_0730-e1491543097842-1180x663.jpg 1180w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2017/04/TWG_The-Town-Hall-Affair_09_photo-by-Paula-Court_Scott-Shepherd_Kate-Valk_IMG_0730-e1491543097842-960x539.jpg 960w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2017/04/TWG_The-Town-Hall-Affair_09_photo-by-Paula-Court_Scott-Shepherd_Kate-Valk_IMG_0730-e1491543097842-240x135.jpg 240w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2017/04/TWG_The-Town-Hall-Affair_09_photo-by-Paula-Court_Scott-Shepherd_Kate-Valk_IMG_0730-e1491543097842-375x211.jpg 375w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2017/04/TWG_The-Town-Hall-Affair_09_photo-by-Paula-Court_Scott-Shepherd_Kate-Valk_IMG_0730-e1491543097842-520x292.jpg 520w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2017/04/TWG_The-Town-Hall-Affair_09_photo-by-Paula-Court_Scott-Shepherd_Kate-Valk_IMG_0730-e1491543097842.jpg 2048w\" sizes=\"(max-width: 800px) 100vw, 800px\">\u003cfigcaption class=\"wp-caption-text\">Norman Mailer 2 (Scott Shepard) and Village Voice columnist Jill Johnston (Kate Valk) go at it in the Wooster Group’s ‘Town Hall Affair’ directed by Liz LeCompte. \u003ccite>(Photo: Paula Court)\u003c/cite>\u003c/figcaption>\u003c/figure>\n\u003cp>To say that the actual affair was unhinged would be to underestimate early 1970s public intellectuals. Captured on film, Norman Mailer, Germaine Greer, \u003cem>Village Voice\u003c/em> columnist Jill Johnston, and literary critic Diana Trilling all carry themselves with the assuredness of demi-gods. If their concerns are only half-human, that half is playing for blood sport and high style.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>To watch the Wooster Group actors mimic what we see on screen is akin to watching ghosts snap to life. It’s an uncanny talent and at the same time feels sloughed off and provisional, like a slap-dash improvisation. They’re not playing these roles so much as giving them a spin, in the way that jazz musicians chase a tune into pure abstraction. The melody’s still there in its Platonic form, but we experience it as shattered glass.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>[ad fullwidth]\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Mailer is such a fantastical presence that it takes two actors of uncommon skill to play him. Ari Fliakos and Scott Shepherd are both spot-on perfect though completely unalike, capturing the way Mailer oscillates between punk pugilist and coiled snake. In full drag, Greg Mehrten’s Trilling feels as if she’s been ripped out of the film and placed before us. Lucy Taylor just takes Greer’s voice and subjects her entire soul to a purr of English hauteur. And Kate Valk, fully costumed and bewigged as Johnston, moves from virtual double to the double as avenging id.\u003c/p>\n\u003cfigure id=\"attachment_13014750\" class=\"wp-caption aligncenter\" style=\"max-width: 800px\">\u003cimg loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" class=\"size-medium wp-image-13014750\" src=\"https://ww2.kqed.org/arts/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2017/04/TWG_The-Town-Hall-Affair_14_photo-by-Paula-Court_Ari-Fliakos_Scott-Shepherd_Kate-Valk_IMG_1771-e1491543208194-800x450.jpg\" alt=\"(L to R) Two Norman Mailers (Ari Fliakos and Scott Shepard) are better than one, as Jill Johnston (Kate Valk) finds out in the Wooster Group's 'Town Hall Affair' directed by Liz LeCompte.\" width=\"800\" height=\"450\" srcset=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2017/04/TWG_The-Town-Hall-Affair_14_photo-by-Paula-Court_Ari-Fliakos_Scott-Shepherd_Kate-Valk_IMG_1771-e1491543208194-800x450.jpg 800w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2017/04/TWG_The-Town-Hall-Affair_14_photo-by-Paula-Court_Ari-Fliakos_Scott-Shepherd_Kate-Valk_IMG_1771-e1491543208194-160x90.jpg 160w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2017/04/TWG_The-Town-Hall-Affair_14_photo-by-Paula-Court_Ari-Fliakos_Scott-Shepherd_Kate-Valk_IMG_1771-e1491543208194-768x432.jpg 768w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2017/04/TWG_The-Town-Hall-Affair_14_photo-by-Paula-Court_Ari-Fliakos_Scott-Shepherd_Kate-Valk_IMG_1771-e1491543208194-1020x574.jpg 1020w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2017/04/TWG_The-Town-Hall-Affair_14_photo-by-Paula-Court_Ari-Fliakos_Scott-Shepherd_Kate-Valk_IMG_1771-e1491543208194-1920x1080.jpg 1920w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2017/04/TWG_The-Town-Hall-Affair_14_photo-by-Paula-Court_Ari-Fliakos_Scott-Shepherd_Kate-Valk_IMG_1771-e1491543208194-1180x664.jpg 1180w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2017/04/TWG_The-Town-Hall-Affair_14_photo-by-Paula-Court_Ari-Fliakos_Scott-Shepherd_Kate-Valk_IMG_1771-e1491543208194-960x540.jpg 960w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2017/04/TWG_The-Town-Hall-Affair_14_photo-by-Paula-Court_Ari-Fliakos_Scott-Shepherd_Kate-Valk_IMG_1771-e1491543208194-240x135.jpg 240w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2017/04/TWG_The-Town-Hall-Affair_14_photo-by-Paula-Court_Ari-Fliakos_Scott-Shepherd_Kate-Valk_IMG_1771-e1491543208194-375x211.jpg 375w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2017/04/TWG_The-Town-Hall-Affair_14_photo-by-Paula-Court_Ari-Fliakos_Scott-Shepherd_Kate-Valk_IMG_1771-e1491543208194-520x293.jpg 520w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2017/04/TWG_The-Town-Hall-Affair_14_photo-by-Paula-Court_Ari-Fliakos_Scott-Shepherd_Kate-Valk_IMG_1771-e1491543208194.jpg 2048w\" sizes=\"(max-width: 800px) 100vw, 800px\">\u003cfigcaption class=\"wp-caption-text\">(L to R) Two Norman Mailers (Ari Fliakos and Scott Shepard) are better than one, as Jill Johnston (Kate Valk) finds out in the Wooster Group’s ‘Town Hall Affair’ directed by Liz LeCompte. \u003ccite>(Photo: Paula Court)\u003c/cite>\u003c/figcaption>\u003c/figure>\n\u003cp>It is in Johnston’s crazy ambitions that \u003cem>Town Hall Affair\u003c/em> finds its trippy, kicky soul. In a prelude to the Wooster recreation, Johnston reads a stirring passage from her feminist manifesto, \u003cem>Lesbian Nation\u003c/em> (1973) and recounts her fondest wishes for that night. It’s a remarkable list that includes launching her career as a boxer (“I had plans for renting a pair of Cassius Clay shorts and one glove”), possibly exposing her breasts (“I like my breasts but I was brought up modestly”), and trying to figure out “how to appear on stage late,” because “who appears late has other important things to do.”\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Without this after-the-fact reminiscence kicking off the evening, Johnston might come across as the least articulate of the speakers, a failed and muddled wit. In the actual, filmed event, she proves to be no match for the sharp and profane Mailer (who uses “cunty” as an endearment), the witty Greer, and the high-handed and formidable Trilling. But on stage, with the prelude, Johnston’s half-baked clown act has bite and force. We see her attempts at insurrection as vital rather than foolish and juvenile. She’s a kind of Cassandra for some as-yet-unheard-of-or-felt revolution.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>It is this hazy sense of prophecy that makes us feel that we’re never quite getting at what we see, even when what we’re seeing is the documented truth. Our knowledge and awareness of the missing parts is the shifty key to \u003cem>Town Hall Affair\u003c/em>. The matter-of-fact title of the stage production (which excises the blood from the title of the documentary, \u003cem>Town Bloody Hall\u003c/em>), the excessive number of Mailers on stage, and the eruption of his 1970 film, \u003cem>Maidstone, \u003c/em>into the proceedings, all provide the sense that there’s always something lurking in the shadows.\u003c/p>\n\u003cfigure id=\"attachment_13014748\" class=\"wp-caption aligncenter\" style=\"max-width: 800px\">\u003cimg loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" class=\"size-medium wp-image-13014748\" src=\"https://ww2.kqed.org/arts/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2017/04/TWG_THE-TOWN-HALL-AFFAIR_04_photo-by-Zbigniew-Bzymek_Kate-Valk_IMG_9196-e1491543428866-800x450.jpg\" alt=\"'Village Voice' columnist Jill Johnston (Kate Valk) dreams of the past in the future of what the past might hold in the Wooster Group's 'Town Hall Affair' directed by Liz LeCompte.\" width=\"800\" height=\"450\" srcset=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2017/04/TWG_THE-TOWN-HALL-AFFAIR_04_photo-by-Zbigniew-Bzymek_Kate-Valk_IMG_9196-e1491543428866-800x450.jpg 800w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2017/04/TWG_THE-TOWN-HALL-AFFAIR_04_photo-by-Zbigniew-Bzymek_Kate-Valk_IMG_9196-e1491543428866-160x90.jpg 160w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2017/04/TWG_THE-TOWN-HALL-AFFAIR_04_photo-by-Zbigniew-Bzymek_Kate-Valk_IMG_9196-e1491543428866-768x432.jpg 768w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2017/04/TWG_THE-TOWN-HALL-AFFAIR_04_photo-by-Zbigniew-Bzymek_Kate-Valk_IMG_9196-e1491543428866-1020x574.jpg 1020w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2017/04/TWG_THE-TOWN-HALL-AFFAIR_04_photo-by-Zbigniew-Bzymek_Kate-Valk_IMG_9196-e1491543428866-1920x1080.jpg 1920w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2017/04/TWG_THE-TOWN-HALL-AFFAIR_04_photo-by-Zbigniew-Bzymek_Kate-Valk_IMG_9196-e1491543428866-1180x664.jpg 1180w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2017/04/TWG_THE-TOWN-HALL-AFFAIR_04_photo-by-Zbigniew-Bzymek_Kate-Valk_IMG_9196-e1491543428866-960x540.jpg 960w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2017/04/TWG_THE-TOWN-HALL-AFFAIR_04_photo-by-Zbigniew-Bzymek_Kate-Valk_IMG_9196-e1491543428866-240x135.jpg 240w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2017/04/TWG_THE-TOWN-HALL-AFFAIR_04_photo-by-Zbigniew-Bzymek_Kate-Valk_IMG_9196-e1491543428866-375x211.jpg 375w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2017/04/TWG_THE-TOWN-HALL-AFFAIR_04_photo-by-Zbigniew-Bzymek_Kate-Valk_IMG_9196-e1491543428866-520x293.jpg 520w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2017/04/TWG_THE-TOWN-HALL-AFFAIR_04_photo-by-Zbigniew-Bzymek_Kate-Valk_IMG_9196-e1491543428866.jpg 2048w\" sizes=\"(max-width: 800px) 100vw, 800px\">\u003cfigcaption class=\"wp-caption-text\">‘Village Voice’ columnist Jill Johnston (Kate Valk) dreams of the past in the future of what the past might hold in the Wooster Group’s ‘Town Hall Affair’ directed by Liz LeCompte. \u003ccite>(Photo: Zbigniew Bzymek)\u003c/cite>\u003c/figcaption>\u003c/figure>\n\u003cp>Thus, in a production that recreates a wild feminist event, a number of miracles take place: Mailer is rip-torn from himself and symbolically gives birth to his avenging double and possibly his innocent child, the actual filmed event is overcome by its staged recreation as Johnston’s dreams turn into Mailer’s nightmares doubled over, and the revolution that Johnston wished for that night comes true — maybe — many years later in a wise and gentle coda.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>The Wooster Group has given us a gift — a joyful, raucous shriek of despair straight out of history’s heart. The least we can do is take an hour or so to hear it thump and soar into an uncertain future.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cimg loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" class=\"aligncenter size-medium wp-image-12127869\" src=\"https://ww2.kqed.org/arts/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2016/09/Q.Logo_.Break_-800x78.jpg\" alt=\"Q.Logo.Break\" width=\"800\" height=\"78\" srcset=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2016/09/Q.Logo_.Break_.jpg 800w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2016/09/Q.Logo_.Break_-400x39.jpg 400w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2016/09/Q.Logo_.Break_-768x75.jpg 768w\" sizes=\"(max-width: 800px) 100vw, 800px\">\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cem>‘Town Hall Affair’ runs through Sunday, April 16 at Z Space in San Francisco. For tickets and information \u003ca href=\"http://www.zspace.org\">click here\u003c/a>.\u003c/em>\u003c/p>\n\n",
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"excerpt": "The great New York-based theater company brilliantly revisits the historic standoff at New York's Town Hall between author Norman Mailer and feminist icons Germaine Greer, Diana Trilling and Jill Johnston. ",
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"title": "Wooster Group Reimagines Crazed 1971 Feminist Debate with Norman Mailer | KQED",
"description": "The great New York-based theater company brilliantly revisits the historic standoff at New York's Town Hall between author Norman Mailer and feminist icons Germaine Greer, Diana Trilling and Jill Johnston. ",
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"headline": "Wooster Group Reimagines Crazed 1971 Feminist Debate with Norman Mailer",
"datePublished": "2017-04-11T09:00:45-07:00",
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"content": "\u003cdiv class=\"post-body\">\u003cp>\u003cp>One of the lovely aspects of Wooster Group productions under Liz LeCompte’s commanding direction is the way the actors just kind of stroll on stage. It’s as if we’ve caught them in the middle of an elaborate rehearsal meant for some future performance. But since we’re all here, well, why not? Let’s do it.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>So as he eases his way into \u003ca href=\"http://www.zspace.org/the-town-hall-affair/\" target=\"_blank\" rel=\"noopener\">\u003cem>Town Hall Affair\u003c/em>\u003c/a>, Scott Shepard casually explains the outrage among feminists caused by Norman Mailer’s 1971 article in \u003cem>Harper’s Magazine\u003c/em>, “\u003ca href=\"http://harpers.org/archive/1971/03/the-prisoner-of-sex/\" target=\"_blank\" rel=\"noopener\">The Prisoner of Sex.\u003c/a>” The actor explains that “someone came up with the idea of having an event at Town Hall in New York City in which Norman Mailer would confront and debate some members of the feminist movement.” He then points to the television monitor that hovers above the stage and informs us that “this event was filmed and made into a documentary by D.A. Pennebaker and Chris Hegedus.”\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>And there we have it: the real thing filmed, and its recreation, live on stage. It feels like a reversal of sorts, but is in actuality more of a brutal and aggressive haunting of the past, a grab at everything we’ve lost in spite of its preservation on film. Throughout the evening, what is missing will be as important as what is copied and recreated.\u003c/p>\n\u003cfigure id=\"attachment_13014749\" class=\"wp-caption aligncenter\" style=\"max-width: 800px\">\u003cimg loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" class=\"size-medium wp-image-13014749\" src=\"https://ww2.kqed.org/arts/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2017/04/TWG_The-Town-Hall-Affair_09_photo-by-Paula-Court_Scott-Shepherd_Kate-Valk_IMG_0730-e1491543097842-800x449.jpg\" alt=\"Norman Mailer 2 (Scott Shepard) and Village Voice columnist Jill Johnston (Kate Valk) go at in the Wooster Group's 'Town Hall Affair' directed by Liz LeCompte.\" width=\"800\" height=\"449\" srcset=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2017/04/TWG_The-Town-Hall-Affair_09_photo-by-Paula-Court_Scott-Shepherd_Kate-Valk_IMG_0730-e1491543097842-800x449.jpg 800w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2017/04/TWG_The-Town-Hall-Affair_09_photo-by-Paula-Court_Scott-Shepherd_Kate-Valk_IMG_0730-e1491543097842-160x90.jpg 160w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2017/04/TWG_The-Town-Hall-Affair_09_photo-by-Paula-Court_Scott-Shepherd_Kate-Valk_IMG_0730-e1491543097842-768x431.jpg 768w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2017/04/TWG_The-Town-Hall-Affair_09_photo-by-Paula-Court_Scott-Shepherd_Kate-Valk_IMG_0730-e1491543097842-1020x573.jpg 1020w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2017/04/TWG_The-Town-Hall-Affair_09_photo-by-Paula-Court_Scott-Shepherd_Kate-Valk_IMG_0730-e1491543097842-1920x1078.jpg 1920w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2017/04/TWG_The-Town-Hall-Affair_09_photo-by-Paula-Court_Scott-Shepherd_Kate-Valk_IMG_0730-e1491543097842-1180x663.jpg 1180w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2017/04/TWG_The-Town-Hall-Affair_09_photo-by-Paula-Court_Scott-Shepherd_Kate-Valk_IMG_0730-e1491543097842-960x539.jpg 960w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2017/04/TWG_The-Town-Hall-Affair_09_photo-by-Paula-Court_Scott-Shepherd_Kate-Valk_IMG_0730-e1491543097842-240x135.jpg 240w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2017/04/TWG_The-Town-Hall-Affair_09_photo-by-Paula-Court_Scott-Shepherd_Kate-Valk_IMG_0730-e1491543097842-375x211.jpg 375w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2017/04/TWG_The-Town-Hall-Affair_09_photo-by-Paula-Court_Scott-Shepherd_Kate-Valk_IMG_0730-e1491543097842-520x292.jpg 520w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2017/04/TWG_The-Town-Hall-Affair_09_photo-by-Paula-Court_Scott-Shepherd_Kate-Valk_IMG_0730-e1491543097842.jpg 2048w\" sizes=\"(max-width: 800px) 100vw, 800px\">\u003cfigcaption class=\"wp-caption-text\">Norman Mailer 2 (Scott Shepard) and Village Voice columnist Jill Johnston (Kate Valk) go at it in the Wooster Group’s ‘Town Hall Affair’ directed by Liz LeCompte. \u003ccite>(Photo: Paula Court)\u003c/cite>\u003c/figcaption>\u003c/figure>\n\u003cp>To say that the actual affair was unhinged would be to underestimate early 1970s public intellectuals. Captured on film, Norman Mailer, Germaine Greer, \u003cem>Village Voice\u003c/em> columnist Jill Johnston, and literary critic Diana Trilling all carry themselves with the assuredness of demi-gods. If their concerns are only half-human, that half is playing for blood sport and high style.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>To watch the Wooster Group actors mimic what we see on screen is akin to watching ghosts snap to life. It’s an uncanny talent and at the same time feels sloughed off and provisional, like a slap-dash improvisation. They’re not playing these roles so much as giving them a spin, in the way that jazz musicians chase a tune into pure abstraction. The melody’s still there in its Platonic form, but we experience it as shattered glass.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003c/p>\u003c/div>",
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"content": "\u003cdiv class=\"post-body\">\u003cp>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Mailer is such a fantastical presence that it takes two actors of uncommon skill to play him. Ari Fliakos and Scott Shepherd are both spot-on perfect though completely unalike, capturing the way Mailer oscillates between punk pugilist and coiled snake. In full drag, Greg Mehrten’s Trilling feels as if she’s been ripped out of the film and placed before us. Lucy Taylor just takes Greer’s voice and subjects her entire soul to a purr of English hauteur. And Kate Valk, fully costumed and bewigged as Johnston, moves from virtual double to the double as avenging id.\u003c/p>\n\u003cfigure id=\"attachment_13014750\" class=\"wp-caption aligncenter\" style=\"max-width: 800px\">\u003cimg loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" class=\"size-medium wp-image-13014750\" src=\"https://ww2.kqed.org/arts/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2017/04/TWG_The-Town-Hall-Affair_14_photo-by-Paula-Court_Ari-Fliakos_Scott-Shepherd_Kate-Valk_IMG_1771-e1491543208194-800x450.jpg\" alt=\"(L to R) Two Norman Mailers (Ari Fliakos and Scott Shepard) are better than one, as Jill Johnston (Kate Valk) finds out in the Wooster Group's 'Town Hall Affair' directed by Liz LeCompte.\" width=\"800\" height=\"450\" srcset=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2017/04/TWG_The-Town-Hall-Affair_14_photo-by-Paula-Court_Ari-Fliakos_Scott-Shepherd_Kate-Valk_IMG_1771-e1491543208194-800x450.jpg 800w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2017/04/TWG_The-Town-Hall-Affair_14_photo-by-Paula-Court_Ari-Fliakos_Scott-Shepherd_Kate-Valk_IMG_1771-e1491543208194-160x90.jpg 160w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2017/04/TWG_The-Town-Hall-Affair_14_photo-by-Paula-Court_Ari-Fliakos_Scott-Shepherd_Kate-Valk_IMG_1771-e1491543208194-768x432.jpg 768w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2017/04/TWG_The-Town-Hall-Affair_14_photo-by-Paula-Court_Ari-Fliakos_Scott-Shepherd_Kate-Valk_IMG_1771-e1491543208194-1020x574.jpg 1020w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2017/04/TWG_The-Town-Hall-Affair_14_photo-by-Paula-Court_Ari-Fliakos_Scott-Shepherd_Kate-Valk_IMG_1771-e1491543208194-1920x1080.jpg 1920w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2017/04/TWG_The-Town-Hall-Affair_14_photo-by-Paula-Court_Ari-Fliakos_Scott-Shepherd_Kate-Valk_IMG_1771-e1491543208194-1180x664.jpg 1180w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2017/04/TWG_The-Town-Hall-Affair_14_photo-by-Paula-Court_Ari-Fliakos_Scott-Shepherd_Kate-Valk_IMG_1771-e1491543208194-960x540.jpg 960w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2017/04/TWG_The-Town-Hall-Affair_14_photo-by-Paula-Court_Ari-Fliakos_Scott-Shepherd_Kate-Valk_IMG_1771-e1491543208194-240x135.jpg 240w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2017/04/TWG_The-Town-Hall-Affair_14_photo-by-Paula-Court_Ari-Fliakos_Scott-Shepherd_Kate-Valk_IMG_1771-e1491543208194-375x211.jpg 375w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2017/04/TWG_The-Town-Hall-Affair_14_photo-by-Paula-Court_Ari-Fliakos_Scott-Shepherd_Kate-Valk_IMG_1771-e1491543208194-520x293.jpg 520w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2017/04/TWG_The-Town-Hall-Affair_14_photo-by-Paula-Court_Ari-Fliakos_Scott-Shepherd_Kate-Valk_IMG_1771-e1491543208194.jpg 2048w\" sizes=\"(max-width: 800px) 100vw, 800px\">\u003cfigcaption class=\"wp-caption-text\">(L to R) Two Norman Mailers (Ari Fliakos and Scott Shepard) are better than one, as Jill Johnston (Kate Valk) finds out in the Wooster Group’s ‘Town Hall Affair’ directed by Liz LeCompte. \u003ccite>(Photo: Paula Court)\u003c/cite>\u003c/figcaption>\u003c/figure>\n\u003cp>It is in Johnston’s crazy ambitions that \u003cem>Town Hall Affair\u003c/em> finds its trippy, kicky soul. In a prelude to the Wooster recreation, Johnston reads a stirring passage from her feminist manifesto, \u003cem>Lesbian Nation\u003c/em> (1973) and recounts her fondest wishes for that night. It’s a remarkable list that includes launching her career as a boxer (“I had plans for renting a pair of Cassius Clay shorts and one glove”), possibly exposing her breasts (“I like my breasts but I was brought up modestly”), and trying to figure out “how to appear on stage late,” because “who appears late has other important things to do.”\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Without this after-the-fact reminiscence kicking off the evening, Johnston might come across as the least articulate of the speakers, a failed and muddled wit. In the actual, filmed event, she proves to be no match for the sharp and profane Mailer (who uses “cunty” as an endearment), the witty Greer, and the high-handed and formidable Trilling. But on stage, with the prelude, Johnston’s half-baked clown act has bite and force. We see her attempts at insurrection as vital rather than foolish and juvenile. She’s a kind of Cassandra for some as-yet-unheard-of-or-felt revolution.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>It is this hazy sense of prophecy that makes us feel that we’re never quite getting at what we see, even when what we’re seeing is the documented truth. Our knowledge and awareness of the missing parts is the shifty key to \u003cem>Town Hall Affair\u003c/em>. The matter-of-fact title of the stage production (which excises the blood from the title of the documentary, \u003cem>Town Bloody Hall\u003c/em>), the excessive number of Mailers on stage, and the eruption of his 1970 film, \u003cem>Maidstone, \u003c/em>into the proceedings, all provide the sense that there’s always something lurking in the shadows.\u003c/p>\n\u003cfigure id=\"attachment_13014748\" class=\"wp-caption aligncenter\" style=\"max-width: 800px\">\u003cimg loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" class=\"size-medium wp-image-13014748\" src=\"https://ww2.kqed.org/arts/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2017/04/TWG_THE-TOWN-HALL-AFFAIR_04_photo-by-Zbigniew-Bzymek_Kate-Valk_IMG_9196-e1491543428866-800x450.jpg\" alt=\"'Village Voice' columnist Jill Johnston (Kate Valk) dreams of the past in the future of what the past might hold in the Wooster Group's 'Town Hall Affair' directed by Liz LeCompte.\" width=\"800\" height=\"450\" srcset=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2017/04/TWG_THE-TOWN-HALL-AFFAIR_04_photo-by-Zbigniew-Bzymek_Kate-Valk_IMG_9196-e1491543428866-800x450.jpg 800w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2017/04/TWG_THE-TOWN-HALL-AFFAIR_04_photo-by-Zbigniew-Bzymek_Kate-Valk_IMG_9196-e1491543428866-160x90.jpg 160w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2017/04/TWG_THE-TOWN-HALL-AFFAIR_04_photo-by-Zbigniew-Bzymek_Kate-Valk_IMG_9196-e1491543428866-768x432.jpg 768w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2017/04/TWG_THE-TOWN-HALL-AFFAIR_04_photo-by-Zbigniew-Bzymek_Kate-Valk_IMG_9196-e1491543428866-1020x574.jpg 1020w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2017/04/TWG_THE-TOWN-HALL-AFFAIR_04_photo-by-Zbigniew-Bzymek_Kate-Valk_IMG_9196-e1491543428866-1920x1080.jpg 1920w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2017/04/TWG_THE-TOWN-HALL-AFFAIR_04_photo-by-Zbigniew-Bzymek_Kate-Valk_IMG_9196-e1491543428866-1180x664.jpg 1180w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2017/04/TWG_THE-TOWN-HALL-AFFAIR_04_photo-by-Zbigniew-Bzymek_Kate-Valk_IMG_9196-e1491543428866-960x540.jpg 960w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2017/04/TWG_THE-TOWN-HALL-AFFAIR_04_photo-by-Zbigniew-Bzymek_Kate-Valk_IMG_9196-e1491543428866-240x135.jpg 240w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2017/04/TWG_THE-TOWN-HALL-AFFAIR_04_photo-by-Zbigniew-Bzymek_Kate-Valk_IMG_9196-e1491543428866-375x211.jpg 375w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2017/04/TWG_THE-TOWN-HALL-AFFAIR_04_photo-by-Zbigniew-Bzymek_Kate-Valk_IMG_9196-e1491543428866-520x293.jpg 520w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2017/04/TWG_THE-TOWN-HALL-AFFAIR_04_photo-by-Zbigniew-Bzymek_Kate-Valk_IMG_9196-e1491543428866.jpg 2048w\" sizes=\"(max-width: 800px) 100vw, 800px\">\u003cfigcaption class=\"wp-caption-text\">‘Village Voice’ columnist Jill Johnston (Kate Valk) dreams of the past in the future of what the past might hold in the Wooster Group’s ‘Town Hall Affair’ directed by Liz LeCompte. \u003ccite>(Photo: Zbigniew Bzymek)\u003c/cite>\u003c/figcaption>\u003c/figure>\n\u003cp>Thus, in a production that recreates a wild feminist event, a number of miracles take place: Mailer is rip-torn from himself and symbolically gives birth to his avenging double and possibly his innocent child, the actual filmed event is overcome by its staged recreation as Johnston’s dreams turn into Mailer’s nightmares doubled over, and the revolution that Johnston wished for that night comes true — maybe — many years later in a wise and gentle coda.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>The Wooster Group has given us a gift — a joyful, raucous shriek of despair straight out of history’s heart. The least we can do is take an hour or so to hear it thump and soar into an uncertain future.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cimg loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" class=\"aligncenter size-medium wp-image-12127869\" src=\"https://ww2.kqed.org/arts/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2016/09/Q.Logo_.Break_-800x78.jpg\" alt=\"Q.Logo.Break\" width=\"800\" height=\"78\" srcset=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2016/09/Q.Logo_.Break_.jpg 800w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2016/09/Q.Logo_.Break_-400x39.jpg 400w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2016/09/Q.Logo_.Break_-768x75.jpg 768w\" sizes=\"(max-width: 800px) 100vw, 800px\">\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cem>‘Town Hall Affair’ runs through Sunday, April 16 at Z Space in San Francisco. For tickets and information \u003ca href=\"http://www.zspace.org\">click here\u003c/a>.\u003c/em>\u003c/p>\n\n\u003c/div>\u003c/p>",
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"title": "Revisiting a Masterpiece: When Frank Sinatra Collaborated with Antonio Carlos Jobim",
"headTitle": "Revisiting a Masterpiece: When Frank Sinatra Collaborated with Antonio Carlos Jobim | KQED",
"content": "\u003cp>Frank Sinatra was well into his Rat Pack era, the reigning American embodiment of masculine suavity and aplomb, when he teamed up with a maestro of Brazilian music to make one of the most exquisitely tender albums of his career. That album, \u003cem>Francis Albert Sinatra & Antonio Carlos Jobim,\u003c/em> has lost none of its luster since it was first released 50 years ago. In fact, a newly remastered anniversary edition extracts additional depth from Claus Ogerman’s orchestrations, which frame Sinatra’s voice like a Rolex on a velvet cushion.\u003c/p>\n\u003cfigure id=\"attachment_13020312\" class=\"wp-caption alignright\" style=\"max-width: 200px\">\u003cimg loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" src=\"https://ww2.kqed.org/arts/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2017/04/cover_art-francis_albert_sinatra___antonio_carlos_jobim_sq-51f575ab35107721d5512aebc9f926b3345f6051.jpg\" alt=\"Frank Sinatra's album with Antonio Carlos Jobim came out 50 years ago this week.\" width=\"200\" height=\"200\" class=\"size-full wp-image-13020312\" srcset=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2017/04/cover_art-francis_albert_sinatra___antonio_carlos_jobim_sq-51f575ab35107721d5512aebc9f926b3345f6051.jpg 200w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2017/04/cover_art-francis_albert_sinatra___antonio_carlos_jobim_sq-51f575ab35107721d5512aebc9f926b3345f6051-160x160.jpg 160w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2017/04/cover_art-francis_albert_sinatra___antonio_carlos_jobim_sq-51f575ab35107721d5512aebc9f926b3345f6051-32x32.jpg 32w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2017/04/cover_art-francis_albert_sinatra___antonio_carlos_jobim_sq-51f575ab35107721d5512aebc9f926b3345f6051-50x50.jpg 50w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2017/04/cover_art-francis_albert_sinatra___antonio_carlos_jobim_sq-51f575ab35107721d5512aebc9f926b3345f6051-64x64.jpg 64w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2017/04/cover_art-francis_albert_sinatra___antonio_carlos_jobim_sq-51f575ab35107721d5512aebc9f926b3345f6051-96x96.jpg 96w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2017/04/cover_art-francis_albert_sinatra___antonio_carlos_jobim_sq-51f575ab35107721d5512aebc9f926b3345f6051-128x128.jpg 128w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2017/04/cover_art-francis_albert_sinatra___antonio_carlos_jobim_sq-51f575ab35107721d5512aebc9f926b3345f6051-150x150.jpg 150w\" sizes=\"(max-width: 200px) 100vw, 200px\">\u003cfigcaption class=\"wp-caption-text\">Frank Sinatra’s album with Antonio Carlos Jobim came out 50 years ago this week.\u003c/figcaption>\u003c/figure>\n\u003cp>The album, recorded in Hollywood in the winter of 1967, captures both Sinatra and Jobim at an apex, flush with creative and popular success. Sinatra was coming off a knockout run of albums on his Reprise label — including \u003cem>Sinatra at the Sands\u003c/em>, recorded with the Count Basie Orchestra, and \u003cem>That’s Life, \u003c/em>which yielded an unstoppable single, “Strangers in the Night.”\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Jobim, a pianist and guitarist as well as a composer, was the beating heart at the center of a worldwide bossa nova craze, following the success of \u003cem>Getz/Gilberto\u003c/em>. A joint effort of the American tenor saxophonist Stan Getz and the Brazilian guitarist and singer João Gilberto, that album also served as a showcase for Jobim’s songs, including “The Girl From Ipanema,” a runaway smash.\u003c/p>\n\u003cfigure id=\"attachment_13020313\" class=\"wp-caption alignright\" style=\"max-width: 800px\">\u003cimg loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" src=\"https://ww2.kqed.org/arts/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2017/04/sinatra___jobim-frank_sinatra_enterprises-ed_thrasher_0_vert-a8c6c8e5aa9d841fe34632cb7807a0f785602262-800x1067.jpg\" alt=\"Frank Sinatra with Antonio Carlos Jobim in 1967\" width=\"800\" height=\"1067\" class=\"size-medium wp-image-13020313\" srcset=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2017/04/sinatra___jobim-frank_sinatra_enterprises-ed_thrasher_0_vert-a8c6c8e5aa9d841fe34632cb7807a0f785602262-800x1067.jpg 800w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2017/04/sinatra___jobim-frank_sinatra_enterprises-ed_thrasher_0_vert-a8c6c8e5aa9d841fe34632cb7807a0f785602262-160x213.jpg 160w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2017/04/sinatra___jobim-frank_sinatra_enterprises-ed_thrasher_0_vert-a8c6c8e5aa9d841fe34632cb7807a0f785602262-768x1024.jpg 768w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2017/04/sinatra___jobim-frank_sinatra_enterprises-ed_thrasher_0_vert-a8c6c8e5aa9d841fe34632cb7807a0f785602262-1020x1360.jpg 1020w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2017/04/sinatra___jobim-frank_sinatra_enterprises-ed_thrasher_0_vert-a8c6c8e5aa9d841fe34632cb7807a0f785602262-1920x2560.jpg 1920w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2017/04/sinatra___jobim-frank_sinatra_enterprises-ed_thrasher_0_vert-a8c6c8e5aa9d841fe34632cb7807a0f785602262-1180x1574.jpg 1180w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2017/04/sinatra___jobim-frank_sinatra_enterprises-ed_thrasher_0_vert-a8c6c8e5aa9d841fe34632cb7807a0f785602262-960x1280.jpg 960w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2017/04/sinatra___jobim-frank_sinatra_enterprises-ed_thrasher_0_vert-a8c6c8e5aa9d841fe34632cb7807a0f785602262-240x320.jpg 240w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2017/04/sinatra___jobim-frank_sinatra_enterprises-ed_thrasher_0_vert-a8c6c8e5aa9d841fe34632cb7807a0f785602262-375x500.jpg 375w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2017/04/sinatra___jobim-frank_sinatra_enterprises-ed_thrasher_0_vert-a8c6c8e5aa9d841fe34632cb7807a0f785602262-520x693.jpg 520w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2017/04/sinatra___jobim-frank_sinatra_enterprises-ed_thrasher_0_vert-a8c6c8e5aa9d841fe34632cb7807a0f785602262.jpg 1536w\" sizes=\"(max-width: 800px) 100vw, 800px\">\u003cfigcaption class=\"wp-caption-text\">Frank Sinatra with Antonio Carlos Jobim in 1967 \u003ccite>(Photo: Ed Thrasher/Courtesy of Frank Sinatra Enterprises)\u003c/cite>\u003c/figcaption>\u003c/figure>\n\u003cp>The 50\u003csup>th\u003c/sup> anniversary edition of \u003cem>Francis Albert Sinatra & Antonio Carlos Jobim \u003c/em>has just been \u003ca href=\"https://ume.lnk.to/SinatraJobim50PHY\">released in various formats\u003c/a>, including two vinyl packages. And along with the music from the original album, it includes two previously unreleased tracks: A live medley from a television special, and part of a session reel for “The Girl From Ipanema,” which Sinatra and Jobim sing as a duet.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>“Don’t let it run away, fellas, with the tempo,” Sinatra cautions at the top of the first take. “Just hold it down, let it settle down. Because it’s got a lot of — it’s got a gang of words.” After the take is finished, he calls for another one, “right away.” His decisive brusqueness strikes a jarring contrast to the singing, which is as delectably airy as a soufflé.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>[ad fullwidth]\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>The commercial relevancy of bossa nova is one way to explain Sinatra’s keen interest in Jobim: He was aware of his tenuous position within a cultural moment increasingly defined by The Beatles. But his treatment of this music belies any charge of opportunism. While bossa nova presented a new angle for him as a singer — “I haven’t sung so soft since I had the laryngitis,” he quipped during the sessions — he clearly regarded the style as something more than a novelty.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>“No other American pop star would so thoroughly immerse himself in the world of bossa,” writes Will Friedwald in his fine critical biography \u003cem>Sinatra! The Song is You: A Singer’s Art. \u003c/em>“He not only recorded two whole albums’ worth of the stuff but sacrificed his signature stylistics in order to more smoothly fit into the new vernacular.”\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=uU1mz6WburU\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Consider the sensitivity of Sinatra’s phrasing on “Quiet Nights of Quiet Stars,” a version of Jobim’s “Corcovado” with English lyrics by the critic Gene Lees.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>The balance of voice and orchestration is so impeccably calibrated that it has effectively been canonized: When Diana Krall made her own bossa nova album in 2009, she named it \u003cem>Quiet Nights\u003c/em>, enlisting Ogerman as arranger (who won a Grammy for his efforts).\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>In its original iteration, \u003cem>Francis Albert Sinatra & Antonio Carlos Jobim\u003c/em> broke into the Top 20 and spent 28 consecutive weeks on the Billboard album chart. According to Michael Bourne, the host of \u003cem>Singers Unlimited\u003c/em> on WBGO, it marked another layer of validation for bossa nova in the American pop mainstream. “Even after the album \u003cem>Getz/Gilberto\u003c/em> won a Grammy as album of the year,” said Bourne, “the Sinatra/Jobim album was a musical apotheosis, a blessing of Jobim’s songs from America’s musical Pope.”\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>There was, however, one distinction that eluded the album. Sinatra had won album of the year at the previous two Grammy Awards — for \u003cem>September of My Years \u003c/em>(1965) and \u003cem>A Man and His Music \u003c/em>(1966) — but he wasn’t destined for a threepeat\u003cem>. \u003c/em>While \u003cem>Francis Albert Sinatra & Antonio Carlos Jobim\u003c/em> was nominated, and perhaps even the frontrunner, the top honor went to another album that has stood the test of time: \u003ca href=\"http://www.npr.org/sections/therecord/2017/04/05/522729531/fixing-a-hole-sgt-pepper-remixed-and-reissued-for-50th-anniversary\">\u003cem>Sgt. Pepper’s Lonely Hearts Club Band\u003c/em>\u003c/a>. \u003c/p>\n\u003cdiv class=\"fullattribution\">Copyright 2017 Newark Public Radio. To see more, visit \u003ca href=\"http://www.wbgo.org\">Newark Public Radio\u003c/a>.\u003cimg decoding=\"async\" src=\"https://www.google-analytics.com/__utm.gif?utmac=UA-5828686-4&utmdt=Revisiting+A+Masterpiece%3A+When+Frank+Sinatra+Collaborated+With+Antonio+Carlos+Jobim&utme=8(APIKey)9(MDAxOTAwOTE4MDEyMTkxMDAzNjczZDljZA004)\">\u003c/div>\n\n",
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"content": "\u003cdiv class=\"post-body\">\u003cp>\u003cp>Frank Sinatra was well into his Rat Pack era, the reigning American embodiment of masculine suavity and aplomb, when he teamed up with a maestro of Brazilian music to make one of the most exquisitely tender albums of his career. That album, \u003cem>Francis Albert Sinatra & Antonio Carlos Jobim,\u003c/em> has lost none of its luster since it was first released 50 years ago. In fact, a newly remastered anniversary edition extracts additional depth from Claus Ogerman’s orchestrations, which frame Sinatra’s voice like a Rolex on a velvet cushion.\u003c/p>\n\u003cfigure id=\"attachment_13020312\" class=\"wp-caption alignright\" style=\"max-width: 200px\">\u003cimg loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" src=\"https://ww2.kqed.org/arts/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2017/04/cover_art-francis_albert_sinatra___antonio_carlos_jobim_sq-51f575ab35107721d5512aebc9f926b3345f6051.jpg\" alt=\"Frank Sinatra's album with Antonio Carlos Jobim came out 50 years ago this week.\" width=\"200\" height=\"200\" class=\"size-full wp-image-13020312\" srcset=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2017/04/cover_art-francis_albert_sinatra___antonio_carlos_jobim_sq-51f575ab35107721d5512aebc9f926b3345f6051.jpg 200w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2017/04/cover_art-francis_albert_sinatra___antonio_carlos_jobim_sq-51f575ab35107721d5512aebc9f926b3345f6051-160x160.jpg 160w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2017/04/cover_art-francis_albert_sinatra___antonio_carlos_jobim_sq-51f575ab35107721d5512aebc9f926b3345f6051-32x32.jpg 32w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2017/04/cover_art-francis_albert_sinatra___antonio_carlos_jobim_sq-51f575ab35107721d5512aebc9f926b3345f6051-50x50.jpg 50w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2017/04/cover_art-francis_albert_sinatra___antonio_carlos_jobim_sq-51f575ab35107721d5512aebc9f926b3345f6051-64x64.jpg 64w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2017/04/cover_art-francis_albert_sinatra___antonio_carlos_jobim_sq-51f575ab35107721d5512aebc9f926b3345f6051-96x96.jpg 96w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2017/04/cover_art-francis_albert_sinatra___antonio_carlos_jobim_sq-51f575ab35107721d5512aebc9f926b3345f6051-128x128.jpg 128w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2017/04/cover_art-francis_albert_sinatra___antonio_carlos_jobim_sq-51f575ab35107721d5512aebc9f926b3345f6051-150x150.jpg 150w\" sizes=\"(max-width: 200px) 100vw, 200px\">\u003cfigcaption class=\"wp-caption-text\">Frank Sinatra’s album with Antonio Carlos Jobim came out 50 years ago this week.\u003c/figcaption>\u003c/figure>\n\u003cp>The album, recorded in Hollywood in the winter of 1967, captures both Sinatra and Jobim at an apex, flush with creative and popular success. Sinatra was coming off a knockout run of albums on his Reprise label — including \u003cem>Sinatra at the Sands\u003c/em>, recorded with the Count Basie Orchestra, and \u003cem>That’s Life, \u003c/em>which yielded an unstoppable single, “Strangers in the Night.”\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Jobim, a pianist and guitarist as well as a composer, was the beating heart at the center of a worldwide bossa nova craze, following the success of \u003cem>Getz/Gilberto\u003c/em>. A joint effort of the American tenor saxophonist Stan Getz and the Brazilian guitarist and singer João Gilberto, that album also served as a showcase for Jobim’s songs, including “The Girl From Ipanema,” a runaway smash.\u003c/p>\n\u003cfigure id=\"attachment_13020313\" class=\"wp-caption alignright\" style=\"max-width: 800px\">\u003cimg loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" src=\"https://ww2.kqed.org/arts/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2017/04/sinatra___jobim-frank_sinatra_enterprises-ed_thrasher_0_vert-a8c6c8e5aa9d841fe34632cb7807a0f785602262-800x1067.jpg\" alt=\"Frank Sinatra with Antonio Carlos Jobim in 1967\" width=\"800\" height=\"1067\" class=\"size-medium wp-image-13020313\" srcset=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2017/04/sinatra___jobim-frank_sinatra_enterprises-ed_thrasher_0_vert-a8c6c8e5aa9d841fe34632cb7807a0f785602262-800x1067.jpg 800w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2017/04/sinatra___jobim-frank_sinatra_enterprises-ed_thrasher_0_vert-a8c6c8e5aa9d841fe34632cb7807a0f785602262-160x213.jpg 160w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2017/04/sinatra___jobim-frank_sinatra_enterprises-ed_thrasher_0_vert-a8c6c8e5aa9d841fe34632cb7807a0f785602262-768x1024.jpg 768w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2017/04/sinatra___jobim-frank_sinatra_enterprises-ed_thrasher_0_vert-a8c6c8e5aa9d841fe34632cb7807a0f785602262-1020x1360.jpg 1020w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2017/04/sinatra___jobim-frank_sinatra_enterprises-ed_thrasher_0_vert-a8c6c8e5aa9d841fe34632cb7807a0f785602262-1920x2560.jpg 1920w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2017/04/sinatra___jobim-frank_sinatra_enterprises-ed_thrasher_0_vert-a8c6c8e5aa9d841fe34632cb7807a0f785602262-1180x1574.jpg 1180w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2017/04/sinatra___jobim-frank_sinatra_enterprises-ed_thrasher_0_vert-a8c6c8e5aa9d841fe34632cb7807a0f785602262-960x1280.jpg 960w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2017/04/sinatra___jobim-frank_sinatra_enterprises-ed_thrasher_0_vert-a8c6c8e5aa9d841fe34632cb7807a0f785602262-240x320.jpg 240w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2017/04/sinatra___jobim-frank_sinatra_enterprises-ed_thrasher_0_vert-a8c6c8e5aa9d841fe34632cb7807a0f785602262-375x500.jpg 375w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2017/04/sinatra___jobim-frank_sinatra_enterprises-ed_thrasher_0_vert-a8c6c8e5aa9d841fe34632cb7807a0f785602262-520x693.jpg 520w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2017/04/sinatra___jobim-frank_sinatra_enterprises-ed_thrasher_0_vert-a8c6c8e5aa9d841fe34632cb7807a0f785602262.jpg 1536w\" sizes=\"(max-width: 800px) 100vw, 800px\">\u003cfigcaption class=\"wp-caption-text\">Frank Sinatra with Antonio Carlos Jobim in 1967 \u003ccite>(Photo: Ed Thrasher/Courtesy of Frank Sinatra Enterprises)\u003c/cite>\u003c/figcaption>\u003c/figure>\n\u003cp>The 50\u003csup>th\u003c/sup> anniversary edition of \u003cem>Francis Albert Sinatra & Antonio Carlos Jobim \u003c/em>has just been \u003ca href=\"https://ume.lnk.to/SinatraJobim50PHY\">released in various formats\u003c/a>, including two vinyl packages. And along with the music from the original album, it includes two previously unreleased tracks: A live medley from a television special, and part of a session reel for “The Girl From Ipanema,” which Sinatra and Jobim sing as a duet.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>“Don’t let it run away, fellas, with the tempo,” Sinatra cautions at the top of the first take. “Just hold it down, let it settle down. Because it’s got a lot of — it’s got a gang of words.” After the take is finished, he calls for another one, “right away.” His decisive brusqueness strikes a jarring contrast to the singing, which is as delectably airy as a soufflé.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003c/p>\u003c/div>",
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"content": "\u003cdiv class=\"post-body\">\u003cp>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>The commercial relevancy of bossa nova is one way to explain Sinatra’s keen interest in Jobim: He was aware of his tenuous position within a cultural moment increasingly defined by The Beatles. But his treatment of this music belies any charge of opportunism. While bossa nova presented a new angle for him as a singer — “I haven’t sung so soft since I had the laryngitis,” he quipped during the sessions — he clearly regarded the style as something more than a novelty.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>“No other American pop star would so thoroughly immerse himself in the world of bossa,” writes Will Friedwald in his fine critical biography \u003cem>Sinatra! The Song is You: A Singer’s Art. \u003c/em>“He not only recorded two whole albums’ worth of the stuff but sacrificed his signature stylistics in order to more smoothly fit into the new vernacular.”\u003c/p>\u003c/p>\u003cp>\u003cspan class='utils-parseShortcode-shortcodes-__youtubeShortcode__embedYoutube'>\n \u003cspan class='utils-parseShortcode-shortcodes-__youtubeShortcode__embedYoutubeInside'>\n \u003ciframe\n loading='lazy'\n class='utils-parseShortcode-shortcodes-__youtubeShortcode__youtubePlayer'\n type='text/html'\n src='//www.youtube.com/embed/uU1mz6WburU'\n title='//www.youtube.com/embed/uU1mz6WburU'\n allowfullscreen='true'\n style='border:0;'>\u003c/iframe>\n \u003c/span>\n \u003c/span>\u003c/p>\u003cp>\u003cp>Consider the sensitivity of Sinatra’s phrasing on “Quiet Nights of Quiet Stars,” a version of Jobim’s “Corcovado” with English lyrics by the critic Gene Lees.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>The balance of voice and orchestration is so impeccably calibrated that it has effectively been canonized: When Diana Krall made her own bossa nova album in 2009, she named it \u003cem>Quiet Nights\u003c/em>, enlisting Ogerman as arranger (who won a Grammy for his efforts).\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>In its original iteration, \u003cem>Francis Albert Sinatra & Antonio Carlos Jobim\u003c/em> broke into the Top 20 and spent 28 consecutive weeks on the Billboard album chart. According to Michael Bourne, the host of \u003cem>Singers Unlimited\u003c/em> on WBGO, it marked another layer of validation for bossa nova in the American pop mainstream. “Even after the album \u003cem>Getz/Gilberto\u003c/em> won a Grammy as album of the year,” said Bourne, “the Sinatra/Jobim album was a musical apotheosis, a blessing of Jobim’s songs from America’s musical Pope.”\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>There was, however, one distinction that eluded the album. Sinatra had won album of the year at the previous two Grammy Awards — for \u003cem>September of My Years \u003c/em>(1965) and \u003cem>A Man and His Music \u003c/em>(1966) — but he wasn’t destined for a threepeat\u003cem>. \u003c/em>While \u003cem>Francis Albert Sinatra & Antonio Carlos Jobim\u003c/em> was nominated, and perhaps even the frontrunner, the top honor went to another album that has stood the test of time: \u003ca href=\"http://www.npr.org/sections/therecord/2017/04/05/522729531/fixing-a-hole-sgt-pepper-remixed-and-reissued-for-50th-anniversary\">\u003cem>Sgt. Pepper’s Lonely Hearts Club Band\u003c/em>\u003c/a>. \u003c/p>\n\u003cdiv class=\"fullattribution\">Copyright 2017 Newark Public Radio. To see more, visit \u003ca href=\"http://www.wbgo.org\">Newark Public Radio\u003c/a>.\u003cimg decoding=\"async\" src=\"https://www.google-analytics.com/__utm.gif?utmac=UA-5828686-4&utmdt=Revisiting+A+Masterpiece%3A+When+Frank+Sinatra+Collaborated+With+Antonio+Carlos+Jobim&utme=8(APIKey)9(MDAxOTAwOTE4MDEyMTkxMDAzNjczZDljZA004)\">\u003c/div>\n\n\u003c/div>\u003c/p>",
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"content": "\u003cp>In the charming and soulful Japanese anime \u003cem>Your Name\u003c/em>, two teenagers who have never met wake up rattled to discover that they have switched bodies in their sleep, or more precisely their dreams. And it’s not just their anatomies they’ve exchanged, or even the identities-in-progress each has managed to cobble together at such a tender age. Mitsuha, a spirited but restless small-town girl of Miyazaki-type vintage, and Taki, a Tokyo high school boy, have also swapped the country for the city, with all the psychic and cultural adjustments that will entail.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Soon it grows clear the two have also switched places in time as well, with potentially drastic consequences for at least one of them. Indeed Mitsuha’s village of Itomori may be in terrible danger from the fallout of a beautifully rendered approaching comet. The kicker is that the fallout fell three years ago.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>https://youtu.be/e4dZhQaTJMk\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cem>Your Name\u003c/em> is a stirring tale of rescue with a boisterous edge of YA mischief. It’s also a love story with a swoony romantic affinity for the age-old tussle between chance and fate. The movie — which is released stateside in both dubbed and subtitled formats (for sheer atmospheric pleasure, the latter is overwhelmingly preferred) — is not a Studio Ghibli project, but visually it might as well be.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>The director of animation, Andou Masashi, is a longtime Ghibli artist who worked on the ravishing \u003cem>Spirited Away\u003c/em>, and fans of Hayao Miyazaki will swoon over the small-town landscape with its pastel-washed skies and lakes and tile-roofed houses, its blow-ups of frying eggs and dripping taps. Itomori is the kind of place you wish you’d grown up in — unless you happen to be sixteen years old, in which case the cityscapes may be more likely to thrill.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>[ad fullwidth]\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cem>Your Name\u003c/em>‘s young director, Makoto Shinkai, brings a frisky pop vibe (the soundtrack is by the Japanese rock band Radwimps) to the lively interplay between the rural idylls and metropolitan Tokyo, with its rush of trains and looming, angled skyscrapers and entitled young hipsters bellowing orders in the restaurant where Mitsuha, uncomfortably lodged in Taki’s body, must learn to cope with urban folkways.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>For all its twitchy city-kid appeal, \u003cem>Your Name\u003c/em> often seems to cast its vote for history and rural tradition. Based on a classic Japanese poem, the story is shot through with reverence for ancient ritual, as spelled out by a prototypical granny-crone with an acerbic grasp of life’s real business. In many ways this is an old-fashioned movie, exquisitely attuned to the dualism of mind and body, male and female, that strike deep roots in Japanese art and literature down the centuries. The plot does little more than glance incuriously at elements like cyborgs, hacking and gender fluidity.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>As in Miyazaki, Shinkai’s casual feminism gives us a boy who sews and a girl who spits, and its impulses are broadly humanistic rather than in-your-face challenging. Taki and Mitsuha’s entertainingly rendered initial panic on discovering strange new body parts where flatness once prevailed soon gives way to an intense desire to connect. The action segues nimbly from one to the other as the teens, both motherless and both suffering from inattentive fathers, find ways to communicate across space and time via text message and, when that fails, by other creative means. As the comet closes in, both draft their friends to try and save the town — and to get in sync with the mysterious Other who has invaded their dreams as well as their bodies.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>With its gods and extra-real dimensions, its staccato beat of memory and forgetting that guide the journey, \u003cem>Your Name\u003c/em> shimmers with the magic of a fairy tale, yet also has its feet firmly planted on the ground of Japan’s past and present. Undeterred by constant setbacks, Taki and Mitsuha move uncertainly toward one another in a journey to adulthood that must be carried out alone and entail the shedding of long-cherished illusions as well as their alternate selves. When they finally meet, the encounter will bring several new meanings to “You had me at hello.” \u003c/p>\n\n",
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"content": "\u003cdiv class=\"post-body\">\u003cp>\u003cp>In the charming and soulful Japanese anime \u003cem>Your Name\u003c/em>, two teenagers who have never met wake up rattled to discover that they have switched bodies in their sleep, or more precisely their dreams. And it’s not just their anatomies they’ve exchanged, or even the identities-in-progress each has managed to cobble together at such a tender age. Mitsuha, a spirited but restless small-town girl of Miyazaki-type vintage, and Taki, a Tokyo high school boy, have also swapped the country for the city, with all the psychic and cultural adjustments that will entail.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Soon it grows clear the two have also switched places in time as well, with potentially drastic consequences for at least one of them. Indeed Mitsuha’s village of Itomori may be in terrible danger from the fallout of a beautifully rendered approaching comet. The kicker is that the fallout fell three years ago.\u003c/p>\u003c/p>\u003cp>\u003cspan class='utils-parseShortcode-shortcodes-__youtubeShortcode__embedYoutube'>\n \u003cspan class='utils-parseShortcode-shortcodes-__youtubeShortcode__embedYoutubeInside'>\n \u003ciframe\n loading='lazy'\n class='utils-parseShortcode-shortcodes-__youtubeShortcode__youtubePlayer'\n type='text/html'\n src='//www.youtube.com/embed/e4dZhQaTJMk'\n title='//www.youtube.com/embed/e4dZhQaTJMk'\n allowfullscreen='true'\n style='border:0;'>\u003c/iframe>\n \u003c/span>\n \u003c/span>\u003c/p>\u003cp>\u003cp>\u003cem>Your Name\u003c/em> is a stirring tale of rescue with a boisterous edge of YA mischief. It’s also a love story with a swoony romantic affinity for the age-old tussle between chance and fate. The movie — which is released stateside in both dubbed and subtitled formats (for sheer atmospheric pleasure, the latter is overwhelmingly preferred) — is not a Studio Ghibli project, but visually it might as well be.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>The director of animation, Andou Masashi, is a longtime Ghibli artist who worked on the ravishing \u003cem>Spirited Away\u003c/em>, and fans of Hayao Miyazaki will swoon over the small-town landscape with its pastel-washed skies and lakes and tile-roofed houses, its blow-ups of frying eggs and dripping taps. Itomori is the kind of place you wish you’d grown up in — unless you happen to be sixteen years old, in which case the cityscapes may be more likely to thrill.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003c/p>\u003c/div>",
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"content": "\u003cp>Deep in the Oakland Museum of California’s art galleries, the exhibition equivalent of a Venn diagram fills a room with crowns and scepters, banners and pins, sculpture and paintings. \u003ci>\u003ca href=\"http://museumca.org/exhibit/over-top-math-bass-imperial-court-sf\" target=\"_blank\" rel=\"noopener\">Over the Top: Math Bass and the Imperial Court SF\u003c/a>\u003c/i> is the latest in curator Christina Linden’s series of (seemingly) odd-couple exhibitions, pairing local societies with contemporary artists to create unexpected conversations between disparate practices.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>In 2015, Linden brought Bay Area suiseki groups and Los Angeles-based artist Jedediah Caesar together for \u003ci>\u003ca href=\"https://ww2.kqed.org/arts/2015/12/16/a-different-kind-of-rock-show-at-the-oakland-museum-of-california/\" target=\"_blank\" rel=\"noopener\">UNEARTHED\u003c/a>\u003c/i>; the visual compare and contrast of found and man-made “stones” offered a meditation on the often-unexamined detritus of everyday life.\u003c/p>\n\u003cfigure id=\"attachment_13002556\" class=\"wp-caption aligncenter\" style=\"max-width: 1200px\">\u003cimg loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" src=\"https://ww2.kqed.org/arts/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2017/04/PM019300_1200.jpg\" alt=\"Installation view of 'Over the Top: Math Bass and the Imperial Court SF' at OMCA.\" width=\"1200\" height=\"800\" class=\"size-full wp-image-13002556\" srcset=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2017/04/PM019300_1200.jpg 1200w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2017/04/PM019300_1200-160x107.jpg 160w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2017/04/PM019300_1200-800x533.jpg 800w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2017/04/PM019300_1200-768x512.jpg 768w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2017/04/PM019300_1200-1020x680.jpg 1020w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2017/04/PM019300_1200-1180x787.jpg 1180w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2017/04/PM019300_1200-960x640.jpg 960w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2017/04/PM019300_1200-240x160.jpg 240w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2017/04/PM019300_1200-375x250.jpg 375w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2017/04/PM019300_1200-520x347.jpg 520w\" sizes=\"(max-width: 1200px) 100vw, 1200px\">\u003cfigcaption class=\"wp-caption-text\">Installation view of ‘Over the Top: Math Bass and the Imperial Court SF’ at OMCA. \u003ccite>(Courtesy of OMCA)\u003c/cite>\u003c/figcaption>\u003c/figure>\n\u003cp>This time, \u003ci>Over the Top\u003c/i> combines new work from Bass (another LA-based artist) with regalia from the \u003ca href=\"http://imperialcouncilsf.org/\" target=\"_blank\" rel=\"noopener\">Imperial Court of San Francisco\u003c/a>, a 52-year-old charitable organization rooted in the city’s drag queen and LGBTQ communities. Not to be outdone by rhinestone-encrusted costume jewelry, velvet robes and commemorative enamel pins, Bass’ large-scale gouache paintings and sleek sculptures hold their own. Through worn objects and aesthetic arrangements, \u003ci>Over the Top\u003c/i> repeatedly demonstrates the ways in which symbols — depending on context — create and complicate identity.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>The monarchs of the Imperial Court benevolently preside over the exhibition in the form of individual glitter and feather-embellished portraits, beginning with the court’s founder, José Julio Sarria, otherwise known as The Grand Mere, Absolute Empress I de San Francisco and the Widow Norton José Julio Sarria, the Nightingale Empress. Offered the title “Queen of the Beaux Arts Ball” at a San Francisco event in 1965, Sarria, like the self-appointed \u003ca href=\"https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Emperor_Norton\" target=\"_blank\" rel=\"noopener\">Emperor Norton\u003c/a> over 100 years before her, demanded a larger territory.\u003c/p>\n\u003cfigure id=\"attachment_13002560\" class=\"wp-caption aligncenter\" style=\"max-width: 948px\">\u003cimg loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" src=\"https://ww2.kqed.org/arts/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2017/04/Portrait-of-Flame_1200.jpg\" alt=\"Steve Harrington, Untitled portrait of Flame, Absolute Empress XI, 2002.\" width=\"948\" height=\"1226\" class=\"size-full wp-image-13002560\" srcset=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2017/04/Portrait-of-Flame_1200.jpg 948w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2017/04/Portrait-of-Flame_1200-160x207.jpg 160w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2017/04/Portrait-of-Flame_1200-800x1035.jpg 800w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2017/04/Portrait-of-Flame_1200-768x993.jpg 768w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2017/04/Portrait-of-Flame_1200-240x310.jpg 240w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2017/04/Portrait-of-Flame_1200-375x485.jpg 375w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2017/04/Portrait-of-Flame_1200-520x672.jpg 520w\" sizes=\"(max-width: 948px) 100vw, 948px\">\u003cfigcaption class=\"wp-caption-text\">Steve Harrington, Untitled portrait of Flame, Absolute Empress XI, 2002. \u003ccite>(Courtesy of John Carrillo and Misty Blue)\u003c/cite>\u003c/figcaption>\u003c/figure>\n\u003cp>The rest, as they say, is history. Following in Sarria’s heels, the court crowns a new Emperor and Empress with the imperial name of their choosing each year. The year’s reigning monarchs — currently Emperor 45 After Norton Nic Hunter, His Most Imperial Majesty, the Hunter Green Bootylicious Flaming Giraffe Emperor of San Francisco and Absolute Empress 52 Mercedez Munro, Her Most Imperial Majesty, both Merciful and Stern, The Virgin Empress of San Francisco — are responsible for directing the society’s fundraising efforts. Over the decades, the court has shifted its priorities to reflect the needs of the local LGBTQ community, from civil rights to AIDS to homelessness.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>[ad fullwidth]\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Bass’ work interrupts and complements the court’s ceremonial objects by referencing their emblems, colors and patterns in visual systems of her own making. Like the courts’ commemorative felt banners hung near the gallery’s ceiling, several of Bass’ paintings echo heraldic compositions; eyes, pyramids, punctuation marks and jagged zigzags replace a coat of arms. In one of four paintings all titled \u003ci>Newz!\u003c/i>, a rounded red X sits dead-center against a rich purple background, linking the velvet robes of the Imperial Court with the bright red of Bass’ slowly-turning oversized apple sculpture, \u003ci>Elizabeth\u003c/i>.\u003c/p>\n\u003cfigure id=\"attachment_13002555\" class=\"wp-caption aligncenter\" style=\"max-width: 1200px\">\u003cimg loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" src=\"https://ww2.kqed.org/arts/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2017/04/PM019298_1200.jpg\" alt=\"Installation view of 'Over the Top: Math Bass and the Imperial Court SF.'\" width=\"1200\" height=\"800\" class=\"size-full wp-image-13002555\" srcset=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2017/04/PM019298_1200.jpg 1200w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2017/04/PM019298_1200-160x107.jpg 160w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2017/04/PM019298_1200-800x533.jpg 800w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2017/04/PM019298_1200-768x512.jpg 768w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2017/04/PM019298_1200-1020x680.jpg 1020w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2017/04/PM019298_1200-1180x787.jpg 1180w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2017/04/PM019298_1200-960x640.jpg 960w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2017/04/PM019298_1200-240x160.jpg 240w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2017/04/PM019298_1200-375x250.jpg 375w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2017/04/PM019298_1200-520x347.jpg 520w\" sizes=\"(max-width: 1200px) 100vw, 1200px\">\u003cfigcaption class=\"wp-caption-text\">Installation view of ‘Over the Top: Math Bass and the Imperial Court SF.’ \u003ccite>(Courtesy of OMCA)\u003c/cite>\u003c/figcaption>\u003c/figure>\n\u003cp>But it isn’t all abstract, enigmatic symbols in Bass’ work. The stark painting \u003ci>Bones\u003c/i> and \u003ci>Teen Dream\u003c/i>, a pair of upside-down bell bottom jeans of made of cast concrete, are reminders of the people — like Sarria and her imperial descendants — who carved out a space for themselves and others in a society that would ignore or erase them.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>This bodily presence is most tangible in a leather vest once worn by Absolute Empress 18 Connie, The Siren, Temptress, Seductive Empress. Heavy with bright, intricately designed enamel pins distributed by outgoing monarchs to coronation ceremony attendees, the jacket is punctuated by a response from Bass, captured in the exhibition’s wall text: “I think of armor and adornment and how these two things can share the same space… I think of the body that cradled this garment, and of the weight and security that this garment must have offered. As shield and as signal.”\u003c/p>\n\u003cfigure id=\"attachment_13002557\" class=\"wp-caption aligncenter\" style=\"max-width: 1200px\">\u003cimg loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" src=\"https://ww2.kqed.org/arts/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2017/04/PM019306_1200.jpg\" alt=\"Leather vest with enamel pins worn by Absolute Empress 18 Connie, The Siren, Temptress, Seductive Empress, circa 1975-1995.\" width=\"1200\" height=\"800\" class=\"size-full wp-image-13002557\" srcset=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2017/04/PM019306_1200.jpg 1200w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2017/04/PM019306_1200-160x107.jpg 160w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2017/04/PM019306_1200-800x533.jpg 800w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2017/04/PM019306_1200-768x512.jpg 768w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2017/04/PM019306_1200-1020x680.jpg 1020w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2017/04/PM019306_1200-1180x787.jpg 1180w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2017/04/PM019306_1200-960x640.jpg 960w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2017/04/PM019306_1200-240x160.jpg 240w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2017/04/PM019306_1200-375x250.jpg 375w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2017/04/PM019306_1200-520x347.jpg 520w\" sizes=\"(max-width: 1200px) 100vw, 1200px\">\u003cfigcaption class=\"wp-caption-text\">Leather vest with enamel pins worn by Absolute Empress 18 Connie, The Siren, Temptress, Seductive Empress, circa 1975-1995. \u003ccite>(Courtesy of the GLBT Historical Society Archives)\u003c/cite>\u003c/figcaption>\u003c/figure>\n\u003cp>\u003ci>Over the Top\u003c/i> is a mesmerizing glimpse into the various acts of creative defiance available to those who would fashion their own language, symbolism and identities — both as a form of personal expression and self-preservation. As Emperor 44 After Norton Salvador Tovar, The Cheerful Unicorn Emperor of the 4th Wave says, “We draw strength from our diversity. We unite in the face of oppression. And above all, we have fun doing it.”\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cimg loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" src=\"https://ww2.kqed.org/arts/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2016/09/Q.Logo_.Break_.jpg\" alt=\"Q.Logo.Break\" width=\"800\" height=\"78\" class=\"aligncenter size-full wp-image-12127869\" srcset=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2016/09/Q.Logo_.Break_.jpg 800w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2016/09/Q.Logo_.Break_-400x39.jpg 400w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2016/09/Q.Logo_.Break_-768x75.jpg 768w\" sizes=\"(max-width: 800px) 100vw, 800px\">\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003ci>‘Over the Top: Math Bass and the Imperial Court SF’ is on view at the Oakland Museum of California through July 23, 2017. For more information, \u003ca href=\"http://museumca.org/exhibit/over-top-math-bass-imperial-court-sf\" target=\"_blank\" rel=\"noopener\">click here\u003c/a>.\u003c/i>\u003c/p>\n\n",
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"excerpt": "At the Oakland Museum of California, acts of defiance create community and identity in a mesmerizing show that pairs contemporary artworks with regalia from the Imperial Court of San Francisco.",
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"title": "Math Bass, Empresses and Emperors Hold Court in Fabulous ‘Over the Top’ | KQED",
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"content": "\u003cdiv class=\"post-body\">\u003cp>\u003cp>Deep in the Oakland Museum of California’s art galleries, the exhibition equivalent of a Venn diagram fills a room with crowns and scepters, banners and pins, sculpture and paintings. \u003ci>\u003ca href=\"http://museumca.org/exhibit/over-top-math-bass-imperial-court-sf\" target=\"_blank\" rel=\"noopener\">Over the Top: Math Bass and the Imperial Court SF\u003c/a>\u003c/i> is the latest in curator Christina Linden’s series of (seemingly) odd-couple exhibitions, pairing local societies with contemporary artists to create unexpected conversations between disparate practices.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>In 2015, Linden brought Bay Area suiseki groups and Los Angeles-based artist Jedediah Caesar together for \u003ci>\u003ca href=\"https://ww2.kqed.org/arts/2015/12/16/a-different-kind-of-rock-show-at-the-oakland-museum-of-california/\" target=\"_blank\" rel=\"noopener\">UNEARTHED\u003c/a>\u003c/i>; the visual compare and contrast of found and man-made “stones” offered a meditation on the often-unexamined detritus of everyday life.\u003c/p>\n\u003cfigure id=\"attachment_13002556\" class=\"wp-caption aligncenter\" style=\"max-width: 1200px\">\u003cimg loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" src=\"https://ww2.kqed.org/arts/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2017/04/PM019300_1200.jpg\" alt=\"Installation view of 'Over the Top: Math Bass and the Imperial Court SF' at OMCA.\" width=\"1200\" height=\"800\" class=\"size-full wp-image-13002556\" srcset=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2017/04/PM019300_1200.jpg 1200w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2017/04/PM019300_1200-160x107.jpg 160w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2017/04/PM019300_1200-800x533.jpg 800w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2017/04/PM019300_1200-768x512.jpg 768w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2017/04/PM019300_1200-1020x680.jpg 1020w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2017/04/PM019300_1200-1180x787.jpg 1180w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2017/04/PM019300_1200-960x640.jpg 960w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2017/04/PM019300_1200-240x160.jpg 240w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2017/04/PM019300_1200-375x250.jpg 375w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2017/04/PM019300_1200-520x347.jpg 520w\" sizes=\"(max-width: 1200px) 100vw, 1200px\">\u003cfigcaption class=\"wp-caption-text\">Installation view of ‘Over the Top: Math Bass and the Imperial Court SF’ at OMCA. \u003ccite>(Courtesy of OMCA)\u003c/cite>\u003c/figcaption>\u003c/figure>\n\u003cp>This time, \u003ci>Over the Top\u003c/i> combines new work from Bass (another LA-based artist) with regalia from the \u003ca href=\"http://imperialcouncilsf.org/\" target=\"_blank\" rel=\"noopener\">Imperial Court of San Francisco\u003c/a>, a 52-year-old charitable organization rooted in the city’s drag queen and LGBTQ communities. Not to be outdone by rhinestone-encrusted costume jewelry, velvet robes and commemorative enamel pins, Bass’ large-scale gouache paintings and sleek sculptures hold their own. Through worn objects and aesthetic arrangements, \u003ci>Over the Top\u003c/i> repeatedly demonstrates the ways in which symbols — depending on context — create and complicate identity.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>The monarchs of the Imperial Court benevolently preside over the exhibition in the form of individual glitter and feather-embellished portraits, beginning with the court’s founder, José Julio Sarria, otherwise known as The Grand Mere, Absolute Empress I de San Francisco and the Widow Norton José Julio Sarria, the Nightingale Empress. Offered the title “Queen of the Beaux Arts Ball” at a San Francisco event in 1965, Sarria, like the self-appointed \u003ca href=\"https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Emperor_Norton\" target=\"_blank\" rel=\"noopener\">Emperor Norton\u003c/a> over 100 years before her, demanded a larger territory.\u003c/p>\n\u003cfigure id=\"attachment_13002560\" class=\"wp-caption aligncenter\" style=\"max-width: 948px\">\u003cimg loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" src=\"https://ww2.kqed.org/arts/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2017/04/Portrait-of-Flame_1200.jpg\" alt=\"Steve Harrington, Untitled portrait of Flame, Absolute Empress XI, 2002.\" width=\"948\" height=\"1226\" class=\"size-full wp-image-13002560\" srcset=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2017/04/Portrait-of-Flame_1200.jpg 948w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2017/04/Portrait-of-Flame_1200-160x207.jpg 160w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2017/04/Portrait-of-Flame_1200-800x1035.jpg 800w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2017/04/Portrait-of-Flame_1200-768x993.jpg 768w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2017/04/Portrait-of-Flame_1200-240x310.jpg 240w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2017/04/Portrait-of-Flame_1200-375x485.jpg 375w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2017/04/Portrait-of-Flame_1200-520x672.jpg 520w\" sizes=\"(max-width: 948px) 100vw, 948px\">\u003cfigcaption class=\"wp-caption-text\">Steve Harrington, Untitled portrait of Flame, Absolute Empress XI, 2002. \u003ccite>(Courtesy of John Carrillo and Misty Blue)\u003c/cite>\u003c/figcaption>\u003c/figure>\n\u003cp>The rest, as they say, is history. Following in Sarria’s heels, the court crowns a new Emperor and Empress with the imperial name of their choosing each year. The year’s reigning monarchs — currently Emperor 45 After Norton Nic Hunter, His Most Imperial Majesty, the Hunter Green Bootylicious Flaming Giraffe Emperor of San Francisco and Absolute Empress 52 Mercedez Munro, Her Most Imperial Majesty, both Merciful and Stern, The Virgin Empress of San Francisco — are responsible for directing the society’s fundraising efforts. Over the decades, the court has shifted its priorities to reflect the needs of the local LGBTQ community, from civil rights to AIDS to homelessness.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003c/p>\u003c/div>",
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"content": "\u003cdiv class=\"post-body\">\u003cp>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Bass’ work interrupts and complements the court’s ceremonial objects by referencing their emblems, colors and patterns in visual systems of her own making. Like the courts’ commemorative felt banners hung near the gallery’s ceiling, several of Bass’ paintings echo heraldic compositions; eyes, pyramids, punctuation marks and jagged zigzags replace a coat of arms. In one of four paintings all titled \u003ci>Newz!\u003c/i>, a rounded red X sits dead-center against a rich purple background, linking the velvet robes of the Imperial Court with the bright red of Bass’ slowly-turning oversized apple sculpture, \u003ci>Elizabeth\u003c/i>.\u003c/p>\n\u003cfigure id=\"attachment_13002555\" class=\"wp-caption aligncenter\" style=\"max-width: 1200px\">\u003cimg loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" src=\"https://ww2.kqed.org/arts/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2017/04/PM019298_1200.jpg\" alt=\"Installation view of 'Over the Top: Math Bass and the Imperial Court SF.'\" width=\"1200\" height=\"800\" class=\"size-full wp-image-13002555\" srcset=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2017/04/PM019298_1200.jpg 1200w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2017/04/PM019298_1200-160x107.jpg 160w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2017/04/PM019298_1200-800x533.jpg 800w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2017/04/PM019298_1200-768x512.jpg 768w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2017/04/PM019298_1200-1020x680.jpg 1020w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2017/04/PM019298_1200-1180x787.jpg 1180w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2017/04/PM019298_1200-960x640.jpg 960w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2017/04/PM019298_1200-240x160.jpg 240w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2017/04/PM019298_1200-375x250.jpg 375w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2017/04/PM019298_1200-520x347.jpg 520w\" sizes=\"(max-width: 1200px) 100vw, 1200px\">\u003cfigcaption class=\"wp-caption-text\">Installation view of ‘Over the Top: Math Bass and the Imperial Court SF.’ \u003ccite>(Courtesy of OMCA)\u003c/cite>\u003c/figcaption>\u003c/figure>\n\u003cp>But it isn’t all abstract, enigmatic symbols in Bass’ work. The stark painting \u003ci>Bones\u003c/i> and \u003ci>Teen Dream\u003c/i>, a pair of upside-down bell bottom jeans of made of cast concrete, are reminders of the people — like Sarria and her imperial descendants — who carved out a space for themselves and others in a society that would ignore or erase them.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>This bodily presence is most tangible in a leather vest once worn by Absolute Empress 18 Connie, The Siren, Temptress, Seductive Empress. Heavy with bright, intricately designed enamel pins distributed by outgoing monarchs to coronation ceremony attendees, the jacket is punctuated by a response from Bass, captured in the exhibition’s wall text: “I think of armor and adornment and how these two things can share the same space… I think of the body that cradled this garment, and of the weight and security that this garment must have offered. As shield and as signal.”\u003c/p>\n\u003cfigure id=\"attachment_13002557\" class=\"wp-caption aligncenter\" style=\"max-width: 1200px\">\u003cimg loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" src=\"https://ww2.kqed.org/arts/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2017/04/PM019306_1200.jpg\" alt=\"Leather vest with enamel pins worn by Absolute Empress 18 Connie, The Siren, Temptress, Seductive Empress, circa 1975-1995.\" width=\"1200\" height=\"800\" class=\"size-full wp-image-13002557\" srcset=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2017/04/PM019306_1200.jpg 1200w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2017/04/PM019306_1200-160x107.jpg 160w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2017/04/PM019306_1200-800x533.jpg 800w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2017/04/PM019306_1200-768x512.jpg 768w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2017/04/PM019306_1200-1020x680.jpg 1020w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2017/04/PM019306_1200-1180x787.jpg 1180w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2017/04/PM019306_1200-960x640.jpg 960w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2017/04/PM019306_1200-240x160.jpg 240w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2017/04/PM019306_1200-375x250.jpg 375w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2017/04/PM019306_1200-520x347.jpg 520w\" sizes=\"(max-width: 1200px) 100vw, 1200px\">\u003cfigcaption class=\"wp-caption-text\">Leather vest with enamel pins worn by Absolute Empress 18 Connie, The Siren, Temptress, Seductive Empress, circa 1975-1995. \u003ccite>(Courtesy of the GLBT Historical Society Archives)\u003c/cite>\u003c/figcaption>\u003c/figure>\n\u003cp>\u003ci>Over the Top\u003c/i> is a mesmerizing glimpse into the various acts of creative defiance available to those who would fashion their own language, symbolism and identities — both as a form of personal expression and self-preservation. As Emperor 44 After Norton Salvador Tovar, The Cheerful Unicorn Emperor of the 4th Wave says, “We draw strength from our diversity. We unite in the face of oppression. And above all, we have fun doing it.”\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cimg loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" src=\"https://ww2.kqed.org/arts/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2016/09/Q.Logo_.Break_.jpg\" alt=\"Q.Logo.Break\" width=\"800\" height=\"78\" class=\"aligncenter size-full wp-image-12127869\" srcset=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2016/09/Q.Logo_.Break_.jpg 800w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2016/09/Q.Logo_.Break_-400x39.jpg 400w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2016/09/Q.Logo_.Break_-768x75.jpg 768w\" sizes=\"(max-width: 800px) 100vw, 800px\">\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003ci>‘Over the Top: Math Bass and the Imperial Court SF’ is on view at the Oakland Museum of California through July 23, 2017. For more information, \u003ca href=\"http://museumca.org/exhibit/over-top-math-bass-imperial-court-sf\" target=\"_blank\" rel=\"noopener\">click here\u003c/a>.\u003c/i>\u003c/p>\n\n\u003c/div>\u003c/p>",
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"title": "de Young Show Proves Stuart Davis Ought to be a Household Name",
"headTitle": "de Young Show Proves Stuart Davis Ought to be a Household Name | KQED",
"content": "\u003cp>Art historians and curators offer disparate explanations for Stuart Davis’ absence from the list of American artists who are “household names.”\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Stuart was ahead of his time, say some. His paintings bridged modernism and pop, but they weren’t quite one or the other, say others. There hasn’t been a major retrospective of his work in 20 years, goes the more recent argument; many of his paintings, now fragile, rarely travel.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>But really, there is no excuse: Stuart Davis should be a household name. \u003ci>\u003ca href=\"https://deyoung.famsf.org/stuart-davis-full-swing\" target=\"_blank\" rel=\"noopener\">Stuart Davis: In Full Swing\u003c/a>\u003c/i>, opening Saturday, April 1 at San Francisco’s de Young Museum, works hard to prove that point, packing 43 years of hard-edged color, overlapping shapes and enigmatic text into just one second-floor gallery space. (The museum’s main blockbuster for the months to come will be \u003ci>\u003ca href=\"https://deyoung.famsf.org/summer-love-art-fashion-and-rock-roll\" target=\"_blank\" rel=\"noopener\">The Summer of Love Experience\u003c/a>\u003c/i>, opening Saturday, April 8, but more on that next week.)\u003c/p>\n\u003cfigure id=\"attachment_12983958\" class=\"wp-caption aligncenter\" style=\"max-width: 1200px\">\u003cimg loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" src=\"https://ww2.kqed.org/arts/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2017/03/2017_StuartDavis_Installation_V79_1200.jpg\" alt=\"Installation from 'Stuart Davis: In Full Swing,' de Young museum, San Francisco.\" width=\"1200\" height=\"675\" class=\"size-full wp-image-12983958\" srcset=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2017/03/2017_StuartDavis_Installation_V79_1200.jpg 1200w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2017/03/2017_StuartDavis_Installation_V79_1200-160x90.jpg 160w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2017/03/2017_StuartDavis_Installation_V79_1200-800x450.jpg 800w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2017/03/2017_StuartDavis_Installation_V79_1200-768x432.jpg 768w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2017/03/2017_StuartDavis_Installation_V79_1200-1020x574.jpg 1020w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2017/03/2017_StuartDavis_Installation_V79_1200-1180x664.jpg 1180w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2017/03/2017_StuartDavis_Installation_V79_1200-960x540.jpg 960w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2017/03/2017_StuartDavis_Installation_V79_1200-240x135.jpg 240w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2017/03/2017_StuartDavis_Installation_V79_1200-375x211.jpg 375w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2017/03/2017_StuartDavis_Installation_V79_1200-520x293.jpg 520w\" sizes=\"(max-width: 1200px) 100vw, 1200px\">\u003cfigcaption class=\"wp-caption-text\">Installation from ‘Stuart Davis: In Full Swing,’ de Young museum, San Francisco. \u003ccite>(Courtesy of the Fine Arts Museums of San Francisco)\u003c/cite>\u003c/figcaption>\u003c/figure>\n\u003cp>Born in 1892 in Philadelphia to artist parents, Davis pursued art from an early age, dropping out of high school (with his parents’ blessing) to study painting with Robert Henri. The Henri School’s philosophy that “art cannot be separated from life” greatly appealed to the hard-drinking, jazz-loving teenage Davis. In later life, the artist reportedly kept the television on constantly with the sound off, to stay abreast of commercial imagery.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003ci>In Full Swing\u003c/i> begins with some of Davis’ earliest abstract works — paintings of Lucky Strike tobacco boxes and Odol mouthwash jars — rendered in a synthetic cubist style that flattens text and texture to the canvas surface. The muted tones betray none of the artist’s future love for the whole spectrum of colors, but Davis’ subject matter is decidedly populist, from the details of printed packaging to the racing results in the sports pages.\u003c/p>\n\u003cfigure id=\"attachment_12983960\" class=\"wp-caption aligncenter\" style=\"max-width: 1200px\">\u003cimg loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" src=\"https://ww2.kqed.org/arts/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2017/03/Stuart-Davis_House-and-Street_1931_1200.jpg\" alt=\"Stuart Davis, 'House and Street, 1931.\" width=\"1200\" height=\"731\" class=\"size-full wp-image-12983960\" srcset=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2017/03/Stuart-Davis_House-and-Street_1931_1200.jpg 1200w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2017/03/Stuart-Davis_House-and-Street_1931_1200-160x97.jpg 160w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2017/03/Stuart-Davis_House-and-Street_1931_1200-800x487.jpg 800w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2017/03/Stuart-Davis_House-and-Street_1931_1200-768x468.jpg 768w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2017/03/Stuart-Davis_House-and-Street_1931_1200-1020x621.jpg 1020w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2017/03/Stuart-Davis_House-and-Street_1931_1200-1180x719.jpg 1180w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2017/03/Stuart-Davis_House-and-Street_1931_1200-960x585.jpg 960w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2017/03/Stuart-Davis_House-and-Street_1931_1200-240x146.jpg 240w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2017/03/Stuart-Davis_House-and-Street_1931_1200-375x228.jpg 375w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2017/03/Stuart-Davis_House-and-Street_1931_1200-520x317.jpg 520w\" sizes=\"(max-width: 1200px) 100vw, 1200px\">\u003cfigcaption class=\"wp-caption-text\">Stuart Davis, ‘House and Street, 1931. \u003ccite>(Courtesy of the Fine Arts Museums of San Francisco)\u003c/cite>\u003c/figcaption>\u003c/figure>\n\u003cp>Additional prologue is provided by Davis’ 1927-28 \u003ci>Egg Beater\u003c/i> series, a suite of four paintings (three of which are on view at the de Young) made possible by a $125-a-month stipend Davis received from sculptor and heiress Gertrude Whitney (yes, \u003ca href=\"http://whitney.org/\" target=\"_blank\" rel=\"noopener\">\u003ci>that\u003c/i> Whitney\u003c/a>). The still lifes feature an electric fan, a rubber glove and the titular egg beater as solid geometries that Davis merged with color and line to the architecture around them.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>[ad fullwidth]\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>The chronological emphasis of \u003ci>In Full Swing\u003c/i> ends there — and for good reason. Though Davis’ career could be carefully plotted over the next four decades, his practice was a recursive one. Like the jazz musicians he so admired, Davis returned again and again to old compositions, reworking the colors and scale of themes he first broached in the 1930s. Comparing those “families” of work is part of the fun of viewing this particular retrospective, which allows you to pick apart the ways in which Davis zoomed in here and added a word there.\u003c/p>\n\u003cfigure id=\"attachment_12983961\" class=\"wp-caption aligncenter\" style=\"max-width: 1200px\">\u003cimg loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" src=\"https://ww2.kqed.org/arts/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2017/03/Stuart-Davis_The-Mellow-Pad_1945-51_1200.jpg\" alt=\"Stuart Davis, 'The Mellow Pad,' 1945-51.\" width=\"1200\" height=\"759\" class=\"size-full wp-image-12983961\" srcset=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2017/03/Stuart-Davis_The-Mellow-Pad_1945-51_1200.jpg 1200w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2017/03/Stuart-Davis_The-Mellow-Pad_1945-51_1200-160x101.jpg 160w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2017/03/Stuart-Davis_The-Mellow-Pad_1945-51_1200-800x506.jpg 800w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2017/03/Stuart-Davis_The-Mellow-Pad_1945-51_1200-768x486.jpg 768w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2017/03/Stuart-Davis_The-Mellow-Pad_1945-51_1200-1020x645.jpg 1020w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2017/03/Stuart-Davis_The-Mellow-Pad_1945-51_1200-1180x746.jpg 1180w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2017/03/Stuart-Davis_The-Mellow-Pad_1945-51_1200-960x607.jpg 960w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2017/03/Stuart-Davis_The-Mellow-Pad_1945-51_1200-240x152.jpg 240w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2017/03/Stuart-Davis_The-Mellow-Pad_1945-51_1200-375x237.jpg 375w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2017/03/Stuart-Davis_The-Mellow-Pad_1945-51_1200-520x329.jpg 520w\" sizes=\"(max-width: 1200px) 100vw, 1200px\">\u003cfigcaption class=\"wp-caption-text\">Stuart Davis, ‘The Mellow Pad,’ 1945-51. \u003ccite>(Courtesy of the Fine Arts Museums of San Francisco)\u003c/cite>\u003c/figcaption>\u003c/figure>\n\u003cp>\u003ci>House and Street\u003c/i>, a painting Davis made in 1931 following his return to New York from a Whitney-funded trip to Paris, shows a split, almost stereoscopic view of the city. It’s a literal representation of urban America’s modernity and simultaneity. Fourteen years later, Davis began working on \u003ci>The Mellow Pad\u003c/i>, a cacophonous conglomeration of twists, dots, x’s and vibrant hues so frenetic it’s easy to miss the composition of \u003ci>House and Street\u003c/i> underneath.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Davis was interested in distilling paintings down to their essential elements — like the orange and black \u003ci>Cliché\u003c/i> derived from the four-color \u003ci>Ready-to-Wear\u003c/i>. But he also had a tendency to complicate them, as in 1959’s \u003ci>The Paris Bit\u003c/i>, based on his 1928 painting \u003ci>Rue Lipp\u003c/i>. In Davis’ reworked version, the Parisian street scene, with its surreally oversized carafe, espresso cup and seltzer bottle, fills with large-scale text, jumbled outlines and contrasting blocks of red, white and blue. Adding to the topsy-turvy feel, Davis rendered his own angular signature upside down.\u003c/p>\n\u003cfigure id=\"attachment_12983962\" class=\"wp-caption aligncenter\" style=\"max-width: 1200px\">\u003cimg loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" src=\"https://ww2.kqed.org/arts/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2017/03/Stuart-Davis_The-Paris-Bit_1959_1200.jpg\" alt=\"Stuart Davis, 'The Paris Bit,' 1959.\" width=\"1200\" height=\"931\" class=\"size-full wp-image-12983962\" srcset=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2017/03/Stuart-Davis_The-Paris-Bit_1959_1200.jpg 1200w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2017/03/Stuart-Davis_The-Paris-Bit_1959_1200-160x124.jpg 160w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2017/03/Stuart-Davis_The-Paris-Bit_1959_1200-800x621.jpg 800w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2017/03/Stuart-Davis_The-Paris-Bit_1959_1200-768x596.jpg 768w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2017/03/Stuart-Davis_The-Paris-Bit_1959_1200-1020x791.jpg 1020w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2017/03/Stuart-Davis_The-Paris-Bit_1959_1200-1180x915.jpg 1180w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2017/03/Stuart-Davis_The-Paris-Bit_1959_1200-960x745.jpg 960w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2017/03/Stuart-Davis_The-Paris-Bit_1959_1200-240x186.jpg 240w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2017/03/Stuart-Davis_The-Paris-Bit_1959_1200-375x291.jpg 375w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2017/03/Stuart-Davis_The-Paris-Bit_1959_1200-520x403.jpg 520w\" sizes=\"(max-width: 1200px) 100vw, 1200px\">\u003cfigcaption class=\"wp-caption-text\">Stuart Davis, ‘The Paris Bit,’ 1959. \u003ccite>(Courtesy of the Fine Arts Museums of San Francisco)\u003c/cite>\u003c/figcaption>\u003c/figure>\n\u003cp>His sense of humor and willingness to pun — a trait that should endear you to just about any artist — is most visible in his use of words, both as graphic elements and in his own titles. When he didn’t finish \u003ci>Owh! In Sao Pão\u003c/i> in time for the 1951 São Paulo biennial, he opted for a title with a pleasant rhyming structure instead of spelling accuracy. If spell-checkers tried to correct him, Davis reportedly said, “It’s a painting, not a geography lesson.”\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>If you have seen Davis’ work before, chances are you were on vacation or it was in a book; the majority of the paintings on view at the de Young come courtesy of East Coast institutions. His paintings hold up well in printed reproductions. With their precise edges, contrasting colors, thick lines and cut-and-paste aesthetics, images of Davis’ work feel fresh and energetic over half a century later. But as any jazz lover — Davis once included — will argue, it’s the live experience where the magic happens.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cimg loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" src=\"https://ww2.kqed.org/arts/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2016/09/Q.Logo_.Break_.jpg\" alt=\"Q.Logo.Break\" width=\"800\" height=\"78\" class=\"aligncenter size-full wp-image-12127869\" srcset=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2016/09/Q.Logo_.Break_.jpg 800w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2016/09/Q.Logo_.Break_-400x39.jpg 400w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2016/09/Q.Logo_.Break_-768x75.jpg 768w\" sizes=\"(max-width: 800px) 100vw, 800px\">\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003ci>‘Stuart Davis: In Full Swing’ is on view at the de Young Museum in San Francisco April 1 – Aug. 6, 2017. For tickets and more information, \u003ca href=\"https://deyoung.famsf.org/stuart-davis-full-swing\" target=\"_blank\" rel=\"noopener\">click here\u003c/a>.\u003c/i>\u003c/p>\n\n",
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"content": "\u003cdiv class=\"post-body\">\u003cp>\u003cp>Art historians and curators offer disparate explanations for Stuart Davis’ absence from the list of American artists who are “household names.”\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Stuart was ahead of his time, say some. His paintings bridged modernism and pop, but they weren’t quite one or the other, say others. There hasn’t been a major retrospective of his work in 20 years, goes the more recent argument; many of his paintings, now fragile, rarely travel.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>But really, there is no excuse: Stuart Davis should be a household name. \u003ci>\u003ca href=\"https://deyoung.famsf.org/stuart-davis-full-swing\" target=\"_blank\" rel=\"noopener\">Stuart Davis: In Full Swing\u003c/a>\u003c/i>, opening Saturday, April 1 at San Francisco’s de Young Museum, works hard to prove that point, packing 43 years of hard-edged color, overlapping shapes and enigmatic text into just one second-floor gallery space. (The museum’s main blockbuster for the months to come will be \u003ci>\u003ca href=\"https://deyoung.famsf.org/summer-love-art-fashion-and-rock-roll\" target=\"_blank\" rel=\"noopener\">The Summer of Love Experience\u003c/a>\u003c/i>, opening Saturday, April 8, but more on that next week.)\u003c/p>\n\u003cfigure id=\"attachment_12983958\" class=\"wp-caption aligncenter\" style=\"max-width: 1200px\">\u003cimg loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" src=\"https://ww2.kqed.org/arts/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2017/03/2017_StuartDavis_Installation_V79_1200.jpg\" alt=\"Installation from 'Stuart Davis: In Full Swing,' de Young museum, San Francisco.\" width=\"1200\" height=\"675\" class=\"size-full wp-image-12983958\" srcset=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2017/03/2017_StuartDavis_Installation_V79_1200.jpg 1200w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2017/03/2017_StuartDavis_Installation_V79_1200-160x90.jpg 160w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2017/03/2017_StuartDavis_Installation_V79_1200-800x450.jpg 800w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2017/03/2017_StuartDavis_Installation_V79_1200-768x432.jpg 768w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2017/03/2017_StuartDavis_Installation_V79_1200-1020x574.jpg 1020w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2017/03/2017_StuartDavis_Installation_V79_1200-1180x664.jpg 1180w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2017/03/2017_StuartDavis_Installation_V79_1200-960x540.jpg 960w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2017/03/2017_StuartDavis_Installation_V79_1200-240x135.jpg 240w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2017/03/2017_StuartDavis_Installation_V79_1200-375x211.jpg 375w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2017/03/2017_StuartDavis_Installation_V79_1200-520x293.jpg 520w\" sizes=\"(max-width: 1200px) 100vw, 1200px\">\u003cfigcaption class=\"wp-caption-text\">Installation from ‘Stuart Davis: In Full Swing,’ de Young museum, San Francisco. \u003ccite>(Courtesy of the Fine Arts Museums of San Francisco)\u003c/cite>\u003c/figcaption>\u003c/figure>\n\u003cp>Born in 1892 in Philadelphia to artist parents, Davis pursued art from an early age, dropping out of high school (with his parents’ blessing) to study painting with Robert Henri. The Henri School’s philosophy that “art cannot be separated from life” greatly appealed to the hard-drinking, jazz-loving teenage Davis. In later life, the artist reportedly kept the television on constantly with the sound off, to stay abreast of commercial imagery.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003ci>In Full Swing\u003c/i> begins with some of Davis’ earliest abstract works — paintings of Lucky Strike tobacco boxes and Odol mouthwash jars — rendered in a synthetic cubist style that flattens text and texture to the canvas surface. The muted tones betray none of the artist’s future love for the whole spectrum of colors, but Davis’ subject matter is decidedly populist, from the details of printed packaging to the racing results in the sports pages.\u003c/p>\n\u003cfigure id=\"attachment_12983960\" class=\"wp-caption aligncenter\" style=\"max-width: 1200px\">\u003cimg loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" src=\"https://ww2.kqed.org/arts/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2017/03/Stuart-Davis_House-and-Street_1931_1200.jpg\" alt=\"Stuart Davis, 'House and Street, 1931.\" width=\"1200\" height=\"731\" class=\"size-full wp-image-12983960\" srcset=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2017/03/Stuart-Davis_House-and-Street_1931_1200.jpg 1200w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2017/03/Stuart-Davis_House-and-Street_1931_1200-160x97.jpg 160w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2017/03/Stuart-Davis_House-and-Street_1931_1200-800x487.jpg 800w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2017/03/Stuart-Davis_House-and-Street_1931_1200-768x468.jpg 768w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2017/03/Stuart-Davis_House-and-Street_1931_1200-1020x621.jpg 1020w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2017/03/Stuart-Davis_House-and-Street_1931_1200-1180x719.jpg 1180w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2017/03/Stuart-Davis_House-and-Street_1931_1200-960x585.jpg 960w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2017/03/Stuart-Davis_House-and-Street_1931_1200-240x146.jpg 240w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2017/03/Stuart-Davis_House-and-Street_1931_1200-375x228.jpg 375w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2017/03/Stuart-Davis_House-and-Street_1931_1200-520x317.jpg 520w\" sizes=\"(max-width: 1200px) 100vw, 1200px\">\u003cfigcaption class=\"wp-caption-text\">Stuart Davis, ‘House and Street, 1931. \u003ccite>(Courtesy of the Fine Arts Museums of San Francisco)\u003c/cite>\u003c/figcaption>\u003c/figure>\n\u003cp>Additional prologue is provided by Davis’ 1927-28 \u003ci>Egg Beater\u003c/i> series, a suite of four paintings (three of which are on view at the de Young) made possible by a $125-a-month stipend Davis received from sculptor and heiress Gertrude Whitney (yes, \u003ca href=\"http://whitney.org/\" target=\"_blank\" rel=\"noopener\">\u003ci>that\u003c/i> Whitney\u003c/a>). The still lifes feature an electric fan, a rubber glove and the titular egg beater as solid geometries that Davis merged with color and line to the architecture around them.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003c/p>\u003c/div>",
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"content": "\u003cdiv class=\"post-body\">\u003cp>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>The chronological emphasis of \u003ci>In Full Swing\u003c/i> ends there — and for good reason. Though Davis’ career could be carefully plotted over the next four decades, his practice was a recursive one. Like the jazz musicians he so admired, Davis returned again and again to old compositions, reworking the colors and scale of themes he first broached in the 1930s. Comparing those “families” of work is part of the fun of viewing this particular retrospective, which allows you to pick apart the ways in which Davis zoomed in here and added a word there.\u003c/p>\n\u003cfigure id=\"attachment_12983961\" class=\"wp-caption aligncenter\" style=\"max-width: 1200px\">\u003cimg loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" src=\"https://ww2.kqed.org/arts/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2017/03/Stuart-Davis_The-Mellow-Pad_1945-51_1200.jpg\" alt=\"Stuart Davis, 'The Mellow Pad,' 1945-51.\" width=\"1200\" height=\"759\" class=\"size-full wp-image-12983961\" srcset=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2017/03/Stuart-Davis_The-Mellow-Pad_1945-51_1200.jpg 1200w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2017/03/Stuart-Davis_The-Mellow-Pad_1945-51_1200-160x101.jpg 160w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2017/03/Stuart-Davis_The-Mellow-Pad_1945-51_1200-800x506.jpg 800w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2017/03/Stuart-Davis_The-Mellow-Pad_1945-51_1200-768x486.jpg 768w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2017/03/Stuart-Davis_The-Mellow-Pad_1945-51_1200-1020x645.jpg 1020w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2017/03/Stuart-Davis_The-Mellow-Pad_1945-51_1200-1180x746.jpg 1180w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2017/03/Stuart-Davis_The-Mellow-Pad_1945-51_1200-960x607.jpg 960w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2017/03/Stuart-Davis_The-Mellow-Pad_1945-51_1200-240x152.jpg 240w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2017/03/Stuart-Davis_The-Mellow-Pad_1945-51_1200-375x237.jpg 375w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2017/03/Stuart-Davis_The-Mellow-Pad_1945-51_1200-520x329.jpg 520w\" sizes=\"(max-width: 1200px) 100vw, 1200px\">\u003cfigcaption class=\"wp-caption-text\">Stuart Davis, ‘The Mellow Pad,’ 1945-51. \u003ccite>(Courtesy of the Fine Arts Museums of San Francisco)\u003c/cite>\u003c/figcaption>\u003c/figure>\n\u003cp>\u003ci>House and Street\u003c/i>, a painting Davis made in 1931 following his return to New York from a Whitney-funded trip to Paris, shows a split, almost stereoscopic view of the city. It’s a literal representation of urban America’s modernity and simultaneity. Fourteen years later, Davis began working on \u003ci>The Mellow Pad\u003c/i>, a cacophonous conglomeration of twists, dots, x’s and vibrant hues so frenetic it’s easy to miss the composition of \u003ci>House and Street\u003c/i> underneath.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Davis was interested in distilling paintings down to their essential elements — like the orange and black \u003ci>Cliché\u003c/i> derived from the four-color \u003ci>Ready-to-Wear\u003c/i>. But he also had a tendency to complicate them, as in 1959’s \u003ci>The Paris Bit\u003c/i>, based on his 1928 painting \u003ci>Rue Lipp\u003c/i>. In Davis’ reworked version, the Parisian street scene, with its surreally oversized carafe, espresso cup and seltzer bottle, fills with large-scale text, jumbled outlines and contrasting blocks of red, white and blue. Adding to the topsy-turvy feel, Davis rendered his own angular signature upside down.\u003c/p>\n\u003cfigure id=\"attachment_12983962\" class=\"wp-caption aligncenter\" style=\"max-width: 1200px\">\u003cimg loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" src=\"https://ww2.kqed.org/arts/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2017/03/Stuart-Davis_The-Paris-Bit_1959_1200.jpg\" alt=\"Stuart Davis, 'The Paris Bit,' 1959.\" width=\"1200\" height=\"931\" class=\"size-full wp-image-12983962\" srcset=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2017/03/Stuart-Davis_The-Paris-Bit_1959_1200.jpg 1200w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2017/03/Stuart-Davis_The-Paris-Bit_1959_1200-160x124.jpg 160w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2017/03/Stuart-Davis_The-Paris-Bit_1959_1200-800x621.jpg 800w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2017/03/Stuart-Davis_The-Paris-Bit_1959_1200-768x596.jpg 768w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2017/03/Stuart-Davis_The-Paris-Bit_1959_1200-1020x791.jpg 1020w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2017/03/Stuart-Davis_The-Paris-Bit_1959_1200-1180x915.jpg 1180w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2017/03/Stuart-Davis_The-Paris-Bit_1959_1200-960x745.jpg 960w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2017/03/Stuart-Davis_The-Paris-Bit_1959_1200-240x186.jpg 240w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2017/03/Stuart-Davis_The-Paris-Bit_1959_1200-375x291.jpg 375w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2017/03/Stuart-Davis_The-Paris-Bit_1959_1200-520x403.jpg 520w\" sizes=\"(max-width: 1200px) 100vw, 1200px\">\u003cfigcaption class=\"wp-caption-text\">Stuart Davis, ‘The Paris Bit,’ 1959. \u003ccite>(Courtesy of the Fine Arts Museums of San Francisco)\u003c/cite>\u003c/figcaption>\u003c/figure>\n\u003cp>His sense of humor and willingness to pun — a trait that should endear you to just about any artist — is most visible in his use of words, both as graphic elements and in his own titles. When he didn’t finish \u003ci>Owh! In Sao Pão\u003c/i> in time for the 1951 São Paulo biennial, he opted for a title with a pleasant rhyming structure instead of spelling accuracy. If spell-checkers tried to correct him, Davis reportedly said, “It’s a painting, not a geography lesson.”\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>If you have seen Davis’ work before, chances are you were on vacation or it was in a book; the majority of the paintings on view at the de Young come courtesy of East Coast institutions. His paintings hold up well in printed reproductions. With their precise edges, contrasting colors, thick lines and cut-and-paste aesthetics, images of Davis’ work feel fresh and energetic over half a century later. But as any jazz lover — Davis once included — will argue, it’s the live experience where the magic happens.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cimg loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" src=\"https://ww2.kqed.org/arts/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2016/09/Q.Logo_.Break_.jpg\" alt=\"Q.Logo.Break\" width=\"800\" height=\"78\" class=\"aligncenter size-full wp-image-12127869\" srcset=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2016/09/Q.Logo_.Break_.jpg 800w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2016/09/Q.Logo_.Break_-400x39.jpg 400w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2016/09/Q.Logo_.Break_-768x75.jpg 768w\" sizes=\"(max-width: 800px) 100vw, 800px\">\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003ci>‘Stuart Davis: In Full Swing’ is on view at the de Young Museum in San Francisco April 1 – Aug. 6, 2017. For tickets and more information, \u003ca href=\"https://deyoung.famsf.org/stuart-davis-full-swing\" target=\"_blank\" rel=\"noopener\">click here\u003c/a>.\u003c/i>\u003c/p>\n\n\u003c/div>\u003c/p>",
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"title": "A Family Struggles To Connect In The Rueful, Richly Detailed 'After The Storm'",
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"content": "\u003cp>From time to time in Hirokazu Kore-eda’s gently incisive family drama \u003cem>After the Storm\u003c/em>, the soundtrack produces a few bars of casual whistling backed by a soft fragment of melody that noodles along with its lead character, stalled novelist and private detective Ryôta Shinoda (Hiroshi Abe). As he bumbles through another dispiriting day in the life, we learn that a typhoon is on its way to the Japanese town where he lives. If you’ve seen any other of Kore-eda’s leisurely character studies — \u003cem>Nobody Knows\u003c/em>, say, or last year’s lovely \u003cem>Our Little Sister\u003c/em> — you’ll know not to expect much in the way of action, let alone spectacles.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Watch and listen closely, though, and worlds of deeply felt, awkwardly expressed passion will unfold in and around a cramped apartment in a nondescript high-rise that has aged along with the inhabitants who raised families there. There, Ryôta’s mother, Yoshiko (Kilin Kiki), ekes out her last years on an income slashed to the rind by her late husband’s gambling losses. No victim, she: In her ebulliently acid way Yoshiko is a resilient survivor. Which is more than can be said of her son as he comes and goes, trying to make his peace with a family that doesn’t exactly run on oiled wheels.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>https://youtu.be/MISbcZZvSPI\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Every Kore-eda family portrait functions, the director has said, as an inquiry from different angles into his own early experience. Almost invariably there’s a feckless father; maternal dragons in various shades of bracing; and in the foreground a floundering younger generation struggling not to repeat their elders’ mistakes even as they do that very thing. As lost souls go, Ryôta may be Kore-eda’s most hapless: Tall and handsome but red-eyed and long-faced, this man-child with shirt perennially untucked walks with the shambling, head-down gait of one who fears he’s as much of a screw-up as his father.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>While gathering material for a new novel that’s not noticeably getting written, Ryôta shakes down cheaters and adulterers for his sleazy boss at the agency, then squanders his meager earnings at the racetrack instead of paying child support to his beautiful ex-wife Kyoko (Yoko Maki), whom he clearly loves as much as he does his sweet young son (Taiyo Yoshizawa) whom he manages to serially fail. It’s telling that Ryôta still seeks validation from his plainspoken mother, who has her son’s number (“You’re taking too long to bloom”) but who, we will see, has given up neither on him nor on life.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>[ad fullwidth]\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>As always, Kor-eda offers little by way of plot. Instead he builds the dynamic between his characters out of an accumulating wealth of seemingly banal detail: A woman wordlessly vacuuming up broken glass; a tangerine tree that bears no blossom or fruit but “I water it every day like it’s you”; a man obsessively rummaging through drawers for the wrong treasure. Like his creator, Ryôta is a meticulous observer of others. But he’s pretty clueless about his own motives until the arrival of the typhoon brings the family together, not entirely by accident, for the night in his mother’s apartment.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>If Yoshiko provides much of the movie’s tartly unsentimental comedy (who else would make someone a gift of her son’s umbilical cord?), she’s also the source of its wisdom and the carrier of Kore-eda’s insight into how mired we are in self-defeating delusion, how harsh in our judgment of others, how wacky in our fantasies that Action A will lead inexorably to Desired Outcome B. Before the film’s end, more than one member of this patched-together, clumsily durable family will cry out piteously that things weren’t supposed to turn out like this.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>On paper such insights can seem trite, but Kore-eda fills them to the brim with the rich muddle of life, of endless aspiration, repeated failure, unlooked-for internal reboots. Near the end of the movie, Ryôta and two of his imperfectly loved ones sit out the storm inside a ridiculous pink structure in a nearby park, eating stale cookies and sharing memories. There’s no Hollywood ending here, only a mutual nudging toward rueful understanding of how to go forward, and the creation of one of those cherished moments out of which, in the gospel according to Kore-eda, the good life is built.\u003c/p>\n\n",
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"content": "\u003cdiv class=\"post-body\">\u003cp>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>As always, Kor-eda offers little by way of plot. Instead he builds the dynamic between his characters out of an accumulating wealth of seemingly banal detail: A woman wordlessly vacuuming up broken glass; a tangerine tree that bears no blossom or fruit but “I water it every day like it’s you”; a man obsessively rummaging through drawers for the wrong treasure. Like his creator, Ryôta is a meticulous observer of others. But he’s pretty clueless about his own motives until the arrival of the typhoon brings the family together, not entirely by accident, for the night in his mother’s apartment.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>If Yoshiko provides much of the movie’s tartly unsentimental comedy (who else would make someone a gift of her son’s umbilical cord?), she’s also the source of its wisdom and the carrier of Kore-eda’s insight into how mired we are in self-defeating delusion, how harsh in our judgment of others, how wacky in our fantasies that Action A will lead inexorably to Desired Outcome B. Before the film’s end, more than one member of this patched-together, clumsily durable family will cry out piteously that things weren’t supposed to turn out like this.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>On paper such insights can seem trite, but Kore-eda fills them to the brim with the rich muddle of life, of endless aspiration, repeated failure, unlooked-for internal reboots. Near the end of the movie, Ryôta and two of his imperfectly loved ones sit out the storm inside a ridiculous pink structure in a nearby park, eating stale cookies and sharing memories. There’s no Hollywood ending here, only a mutual nudging toward rueful understanding of how to go forward, and the creation of one of those cherished moments out of which, in the gospel according to Kore-eda, the good life is built.\u003c/p>\n\n\u003c/div>\u003c/p>",
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"soldout": {
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