Monday, August 19, 2019

ONE SMALL WALKBACK FOR MANKIND


There was a spate of documentaries this summer about the space race and astrology. One was quite alarming. Apparently, our sun is going to get larger and hotter and expand to envelope and destroy Mercury and Venus. The Earth will then be the closest to our star and possibly too hot for habitation. This got me worried. Although it’s going to happen in 5 billion years, I am concerned about my legacy and all the art-work that will be burned up and forgotten. Luckily many things are stored on the Cloud and can be stationed on a base on Titan, a moon of Saturn. Apparently we have pictures from there taken by a satellite of ours (Huygen’s Probe) that landed in 2005! I had been totally ignorant of that fact. Neither did I realize that the Mayans were the only ancient culture to accurately measure the calendar year. Wow. I have been aware through art history that there was use of pyramidal structures across cultures early on, all trying to connect to the heavens. Some practiced blood sacrifice. So what are we aiming for now?
The documentaries about Apollo Eleven got very long winded but I enjoyed the refresher course. I was thirteen when my parents woke me up to watch the grainy and garbled event in real time that summer of 1969. I remember Nixon saying hello with his gravelly voice. “I’m glad you men didn’t die on prime time.” It was cheerful news compared to the war, riots and assassinations. Fifty-year celebrations of Moon Walks or Woodstock bring up all kinds of new issues within our present day political forum. Most of them are exaggerated by media, smart phones and bogus-influencers and their naff pop psychology. I was mildly shocked at the Social Justice view of the moon landing in the three-night PBS film, Chasing The Moon. Has virtue signaling found its way into everything? Civil Rights Leader, Ralph Abernathy wanted to know how much could be spent on poverty instead. Can you go to the moon and still spend money on poverty? Of course you can. The head of NASA then gave his group tickets to the launch.
The Sixties space race is now depicted as a colonialist competition with the Russians instead of a self-evident search for knowledge. True, there was tit-for-tat ballistics matching the Red’s achievements (they are still the bad guys) but Mankind had fantasized about space travel for thousands of years. Now we have to re-tread history and squeeze minorities into the larger Cold War narrative. The film, Hidden Figures filled in racial gaps and made me cry but it’s far too simplistic and sentimental. To be fair on America, the original Star Trek featured foreigners and people of color (an attempt at inclusion) even if it was based in the future. Do aliens count? Not everyone was a racist in 1960! OK, Werner von Braun helped us out. No back-pedaling here, Hitler’s “Rocket Man” was crucial. This didn’t pass un-noticed; he was spoofed by Tom Lehr and in Dr. Strangelove. Kubrick’s 2001, a Space Odyssey came out in 1968. Freaks dug it!
The wider sociological comparison interests me. Landing on the Moon cannot be separated from the post-war era and narrative of improvement. The Sixties/Seventies were icing on the cake: The Generation Gap was widening but it paralleled the “Great Society.” The “American Dream” was still filling out, opening up and soon to plateau. See Oil Embargo. The Lunar landing coincided with Woodstock and escalations in Vietnam but consciousness raising still had a long way to go. Eventually, everybody got hip and grew their hair. Even my parents (Silent Majority) sported massive lapels. Ghastly apparel was commonplace.
Without Grand Narratives we spiral into unknown territory and stagger, confused, especially when the achievements are stripped away historically. We hammer away at the picket-fence cohesion. Call it Hamiltonizing. Forget about the progress that was made over this time. We have access to excellent coffee drinks. We are privileged to live in consumer heaven. And think about all the excellent Rock n’ Roll Music, a multi-racial project. Things may not have worked out to everyone’s satisfaction but the opportunity was there in spirit. In my costly research, I listened to Whitey On The Moon by Gil Scott Heron. There was a lot to complain about then. Equality was new for everybody. But now? Systemized victimization is de rigueur and, via Hip-Hop, exaggerated. Tupac and his subculture mean a lot to some people but he was no Gil Scott Heron.
There is a disconnect between the dwindling of Sixties space exploration and the new attempts to set up colonies on the Moon and Mars. They are trendy and Silicon Valley inspired. Everybody is landing on the moon now. Soon there will be Chinese food available and a Curry House. But it’s small potatoes. Compared to the daring feats of the Sixties, our present science fixation is a big yawn. Armstrong landed the Lunar Module with 17 seconds of fuel remaining and a damaged Radio Shack keyboard. It was good he was wearing diapers.
I suggest that America’s progressive movement had reached its end much like the Sixties space program. Why can’t people see this? It is explained in Post-Modern texts. Does no one read? Today we obsess on theories of the “Other” and the “Outsider.” They make you feel righteous. The notion is expanded and compressed it into a fierce imperium, a dictat that my local NPR station eschews. One show explained how the full moon was making my sleep intermittent. I have always suspected that. Don’t get me wrong; “Summer of Space” has been good. The Moon inspired programs interrupted the constant pandering to overbearing Queer Studies. They will not rest until there is a token “Trannie” on Tranquility sporting a rainbow flag and glitter ball.





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Wednesday, February 20, 2019

VELVET BUZZSAW

  My interest in any movie about the Art World is complicated. The first question is “has Velvet Buzzsaw ripped off my unpublished novel, Work Shy where an artist’s reputation is made after an early, suspicious death?” Secondly, does it add to the canon of movies that really describe that alien world like maybe Basquiat or Pollock?” There is already a memoir from Australia with the same title as my book. That shook me up. Luckily, it is the memoir of musician, Dave Raney who’s a legend Down Under. He used to sing with the post-punk band, the Moodists. Oddly enough, I met him once upon a time. Hopefully, his effort will not infringe on my up and coming brand. I was worried about Velvet Buzzsaw since the story tells of an Outsider Artist made famous and “wealthy” after death. My view is that the Art World is dangerous enough without any added drama. “Outsider Art” is now big business and dealers have their own Art Fairs to milk the tortured and deceased artists who were frequently poor and mentally challenged. What a relief to see the film and realize it is a different sort of fish – plotted around the meme of artist as supernatural serial killer ­with a nod to A Picture of Dorian Gray (1945) – so I don’t have to sue the Director, Dan Gilroy. Speaking of Art Fairs, it could be that the release of Velvet Buzzsaw was timed to create extra buzz for the opening of the first Frieze LA this month. Lord knows, there are enough rich celebrities in Hollywood who can afford to be high-level collectors if you can pry them off the red carpet.
There are not a lot of films that deal with the realities of the Art World much less its connection to most artist schlubs and their day jobs.  I had researched this arena for inclusion in my own story starting with way-old films like The Horse’s Mouth (1958) with Alec Guinness as the near crazy English painter, Gully Jimson. Artists are frequently depicted as insane (Van Gogh) or charlatans (Warhol). Add to that the Faustian painting pact with the Devil, Oscar Wilde’s, Dorian Gray. High Art (1998) did a fine job with Ally Sheedy and friends depicting ‘intellectuals’ leading up to the ‘adventurous’ Lesbian love scene. Content like this is now ubiquitous and can be seen as family viewing every night on HBO! The most recent send-up was Art School Confidential (2006) that had a great take on flakey, first year students. It was originally a “cartoon” graphic novel by Daniel Clowes. Of course, Hollywood added steroids and the movie fell short with a superfluous murder plot. It is not a coincidence that John Malevich is in both films playing a similar disenchanted professor/artist. He is the perfect over-the-hill narcissist. ASC also featured the wonderful Steve Buscemi who I mention all the time in my novel because it is the right thing to do.
Art snobbery starts way down the food chain and only grows with the money. I recognize the syndrome from my own time on the margins in NY, London and even Philadelphia. Local curators are referred to as the “Art Mafia” by my fictional and disenfranchised Work Shy characters. Even in Philly art careers are made by the governance of certain players. I won’t say the local art criticism has much to do with the rise and fall of artists but one can see when the flavor of the month is being nurtured in the press around Pew Grant time. The buzz has been severely diminished lately by the disappearance of the old hard-copy weeklies and normally stops at the city limits.
Although VB falls short of any meaningful, in-depth depiction, it is a lot of fun as it falls into a well-worn kill-all-the-snobs horror movie; it could have been titled Das Nicht Schadenfreud! But how little “scare” there was as the Outsider Art comes alive. Normally I would be hiding being the sofa when a scary painting rips VIPS into parts. Could it be that the creation of these movies for the flat and smallish screen limits the scope? I really didn’t feel vindicated when justice was dispensed or I didn’t hate the critic (Jake Gyllenhaal) and curators enough. How can you hate Rene Russo? There was an attempt to get behind the stage like in The Player (1992) but it wasn’t wise enough for that. Even my un-edited manuscript devises to include a cinematic version of itself! Pretty fucking clever. I only hope Malevich or Buscemi will still be available. It is disappointing to think what VB could have achieved. The title’s mash up of Velvet Underground and Buzzcocks strikes me as a wholly contrived bid for punkish street cred very far from today’s slick concern for auction prices. I remember Basquiat (1998) having some real 80’s SOHO feel only a painter/director like Julian Schnabel could deliver. Fact and fiction merge literally with David Bowie’s Warhol. The film I Shot Andy Warhol (1996) was also informative. Not many know the story of Valerie Solanas. The seamy underside still resonates. Warhol and Basquiat had some mysterious connection that finished them off within a year or so of each other. Weird. I am glad that we have another movie about the art world but wish that Velvet Buzzsaw had a few more creepy notes of Polanski or David Lynch. It could have been a cult classic rather than standard Netflix fare.
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Monday, January 7, 2019

CIVILISATION(S)


History ain’t what it used to be and the new BBC documentary Civilisations (plural) proves it. After dismal footage of Isis demolishing Palmyra there is a short primer on Greek sculpture revealing it to be just another ancient tradition rather than the foundation of all Western art. Simon Schama, the host of the excellent Power of Art (2006) apologetically underscores that these terrorists are the worst kind of iconoclasts and their violent desecration illustrates the opposite of what civilization means. Take that Isis! By the end of the series we are back pedaling fast to eject our cozy deep connections to Greco/Roman heritage. I may be old fashioned but you can’t just whistle away the past by seeing Hamilton.
In the throes of thinly veiled Identity Politics, an art historian from Harvard starts the engine debunking colonialism and begins retrieving art from cultures in arbitrary parts of the world. They are especially keen on Mezo-American pyramids covered in glyphs. The Spanish were the worst, of course. They built cathedrals over the Mayan Temples and dabbled in ethnic cleansing. Should we send in fundamentalists to knock that Baroque number down? Sorry, I have caught a whiff of a disconcerting subtext planted here that it’s OK to take a sledgehammer to classical art in Syria and behead the curator?
The documentary (now on NetFlix) follows ineptly in the footsteps of Kenneth Clark’s original Civilization from back in the day (1969) that could have been ripe for a Monty Python parody. Clark’s tone equated Art with Civilisation. Seems self-evident to me. The revisionists purport that All Art is Equal. Not the same thing. There is a reason all public buildings, banks, libraries and courthouses are neo-classical. By the end of the series they are undermining my favorite patriarchal tropes about genius and masterpieces.
I admit I am a sucker for Greeks and Romans but I spent my formative years wondering why modern life and the western world and was so underpinned by these Dudes. Aren’t TV and Rock n’ Roll more important? The Odyssey was so wordy and history old and out of date. They were all misogynists. Did Troy even exist? Yet here I am defending those snobby proto-toga wearers from multi-culturalists!
A good case can be made for the rest of the world being left out of the Western narrative. They were not part of it. So the aim at correction is overblown. These cultural backlashes are parallel to distorted political tides to and frowing; the swing to Obama (Yes We Can) after Bush (Shock and Awe) and the swing way back to our current (Great Again) Bombast-in-Chief. All that makes me want to create a middle ground where logic presides over emotion. Art is a slower mechanism, thank goodness. Or it should be. The Western narrative makes us what we are today and popular culture cannot pretend to offer enough substance to undo 3000 years of history and myth no matter how the Oscars and Grammy’s struggle to “equalize” the silly barometer of skin color. If Civilisations really needed a woman artist to balance things, they could’ve used Artemesia Ghentileschi (1593-1656). She was nearly as good as Caravaggio and her auction prices are up! Check out her Judith Beheading Holofernes and picture Harvey Weinstein decapitated instead.
It’s fine to add multiple cultures to the Global Contemporary canon but re-writing history is bogus. Superimposing our present beliefs over ancient ones seems arrogant and self-serving. Some Roman Emperors did practice Damnatio Memoriae, eradication of their predecessors painted or carved images (often sons and brothers) but luckily it was not a policy written in stone. Up to recently, political art was a third rate form ostracized by Modernists! So, how did Identity Politics manage to go so far as to challenge Art History in such a short time? Not sure. It started with safe spaces on campuses quite recently. Can a populist and superficial zeitgeist replace such well-worn and researched paradigms?
The documentary goes further south when it brings Civilisations into present day virtue signaling. Kehinde Wiley paintings may serve as example of a right-on wit used to bolster the case but what is this to do with world cultures? I have always found his paintings sophomoric: Rap stars shown in poses cribbed from art history? Sure it’s perfect for evincing the present day and perfect for President Obama’s portrait. Kara Walker has more weight. A well-regarded contemporary, her work has always challenged a reading of the past and doesn’t rely on a populist sentiment. Her work predates Black Lives Matter and #MeToo and has always shocked. Unfortunately, it doesn’t benefit by being used illustratively in this broad context. She is seen with some humor describing her views on Georgia’s Stone Mountain (she’s from Georgia) depicting Robert E. Lee, ‘Stonewall” Jackson and the nasty Jefferson Davis. True, the largest bas-relief sculpture in the world is a touchstone for the alt-right and it is right to mock but smashing up Robert E. Lee seems a sop to the safe-space mentality. Remember, war memorials have always pulled from a long line of equestrian sculpture starting with Marcus Aurelius and he was a cool guy. Sure, Stone Mountain was begun by Gutzon Borglum, the nutty sculptor of Mt. Rushmore, and it deserves an over-the-top award but demolition? I hope Rushmore itself isn’t under threat. Are we going to burn the hundreds of thousands of books on the military history of the Civil War? They give such great solace to nerds like myself. Maybe what is needed is better and more honest interpretative writing?
On the flip side of victim culture is Anselm Keifer. He is interviewed by Simon Schama as someone darkly obsessed with Germanic history (what a surprise) and he doesn’t sugarcoat it. His contrarian brooding on Germany’s awful legacy is as potent as ever and his latest jets made out of lead are menacing and virile. “Embrace” the past or you forget it.

Today we have convinced ourselves that art is whatever it means to the viewer no matter how uninformed or ignorant. When I was an art history professor, I used out-takes from Clark’s Civilisation to show students how one opinion can be better than another. They didn’t get it. The class textbook was Art Through the Ages (a Global History). Most students refused to buy the book or even look it up on-line. The editors had particular trouble defining recent Contemporary Art without offending anyone. As devil’s advocate, I also used The Story of Art, a British primer by E. H. Gombrich, first published in 1950. His bias was what you’d expect from a privileged Brit of the period but it’s solidly written text was an excellent place to start a dialogue. I assigned it to students so they could hear a voice that was not washed down academic speak of the PC variety. Since then the progressive walk-back has grown more pervasive, homogenous and eager to expunge the actual things that make us diverse in the first place. Perhaps, we should go back to a healthy conservation of Art and give a little more thought as to what culture is and why Islamic State hates it so much.

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Monday, July 9, 2018

COMING APART


Before Roseanne Barr insisted on imploding her new hit reboot with a stupid tweet, I was writing a review comparing the show with the book, Coming Apart by Charles Murray. Still notorious for The Bell Curve of 1994, (co-authored with Richard Herrnstein) he can now speak as part of the growing ‘Intellectual Dark Web’ whose thinkers inhabit the world of podcasts. They are thoughtful opposites of Right Wing talk show hosts whose invective has hijacked the world and the Left Wing activists who seem to have lost their minds. I feel stuck in a middle place. It might be a strange exercise to compare this rather data driven book with the return of TV’s Roseanne – there are similarities – but I feared she brought the whole enterprise down by utilizing a medium that links her with other idiots who tweet like the president as a narcissistic and unhinged power play.
Both ventures attempt to illustrate and make sense of White America from 1960 to 2010 and the new sit-com further serves to underline the gap since it went off the air in 1997. Quite a bit has changed. Broadcast is no longer king. Nanocast phenomenon now rules bringing every tiny communication (by ninnies) into wasted scrutiny. What was News is now a comic strip starring celebrities large and small. I won’t mention the First Lady Immigrant’s low-rent (bad taste) coat gaff. Have we ever seen such antics?
The world (compared to 1960) is a marvelous place with decreased poverty, medical wonders and less war, but some folks may find these are fanciful generalizations if their standard of living is stagnant. Some of them voted the Reality TV ticket. Author, Charles Murray (who is not a shithead) gives us the facts. His approach is conservative ­– where have all the good times gone? – but he delves deep sometimes referring back to the Fall of Rome. The empire fell apart from within. Apart from the corny viewpoint, I can understand his implied condemnation of single parent families as a widespread reason for social decay. This nugget has been in the conservative canon for a while but not aimed at working whites particularly. I wonder why Murray doesn’t mention Obese America or Tattooed America? He also warns that we will soon become a European-style socialist state. Not a good thing, he says.
In the 1960’s, according to Murray, we weren’t all that different. Both rich and poor wanted a Cadillac. There was nothing but a future for my dad’s generation.  Not sure why it couldn’t continue. Something to do with an Arab Oil Embargo. 50 years later another new group dominates. Murray describes them as the New Upper Class. They are well educated and self-sustaining. Unfortunately, they are corrupt, possibly because they don’t interact with regular folks. These tech-savvy global citizens no longer want Cadillacs.
Coming Apart illustrates the differences in classes of Whites with detailed graphs in black and white. Do you smoke? Have you owned a pick-up truck? Do you attend church? If yes, you are Lower Class. Or a Cowboy! The New Upper Class is too busy preparing their children to continue in high-level colleges and creating ‘cultural currency.’ These Movers and Shakers have a bubble to die for. Murray calls the next stratum the Narrow Elites. They live in enclaves called Super Zips (zip-codes) and he locates in them high castles outside Washington DC and similar places. They don’t share post-codes with minions. This is why there is so much division (literally) and so little mobility. 
The Conners are old-fashioned, disenfranchised Blue Collar and represent Baby Boomers who can’t escape their lot. The new Roseanne checks all the contemporary boxes, possibly too many: Gender Bending, MeToo and Mixed Race grandchildren seem a sop to progressive Hollywood. Do we spend too much time on these distinctions? They are part of the reason we have a crude, rich guy in the White House as payback. What if the wise-cracking Darlene had graduated college instead of falling pregnant? What if she had success like the actor who plays her, Sara Gilbert. Gilbert is rightly pissed off at the cancellation of the show by ABC. Broken Marriage runs through the show echoing Murray’s book. Laurie Metcalf as Aunt Jackie (in her Pussy Hat) steals many scenes as the older (single) mother. She could live in Fishtown! Murray makes a good case. Kids prosper with two parents and a 401K. They achieve mobility the Conners can only dream of. All this may be a knock for feminism but it is decent comedy from Middle America. Roseanne for Trump.  Jackie for Hillary. The same rift exists world-wide and in my family. This is where Roseanne differs from the well-employed and irritating middle class characters in Modern Family.
I hesitate to use my own middle class upbringing as an example but after reading all the charts and statistics it is clear that a similar fate has befallen us. Though we followed the rules of the 50’s – go to college and get married – we end up like the Conners. A few snags are ignored in Coming Apart. One was called ‘The Counter Culture.’ Did that not speed up change and turn values upside down? The ‘Culture Wars’ followed. That was the ‘Post-Modern’ period and I was a fan once. Before the fascinating critical theory about ‘the Other’ expanded into monstrous Identity Politics and ‘The Master Narrative’ was dispensed with. This is when things began to unravel. My dad fought Germans when it was fashionable, went to college twice, stopped smoking and achieved middle management. He sent us all to college but it still this wasn’t enough to push us upwards. Maybe if we’d been high achievers? As it is, we have all (conveniently) come to acknowledge the limits of mere education. In social terms, we remain where we started and unfortunately, staying in the middle means you lose standing as all around (diversified or not) rise up. How they do it? I am still none the wiser. 
At the end of the day, the future of this American Experiment is in the hands of the Super Rich. Do they care about the division within class? No. They live in a Silicon Valley Wonderland with only token minorities working towards an uber meritocracy. Murray seems to be on the fence here. He puts stock in re-vitalizing American values like Honesty, Spirituality and Ambition (I read Judeo-Christian ethics) but his conclusions are confusing. Who are these elites? What do they look like? Are they on both sides of the political divide? Murray’s only clue at the beginning of the book is a mention of TV’s Thirty Something. Those 80’s characters were Yuppies!
I was right to see a correlation between Coming Apart and Roseanne. The TV show gives a face to one side of the class divide and its political core where Murray’s facts only go so far. Perhaps he should be more inventive and include stats on media viewing in the Heartland? It’s those Reality TV folks he needs to warn.

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Monday, March 5, 2018

PRISONER OF NETFLIX


As I was researching a short, folksie blog-piece on NETFLIX, I ran across much more detail than I bargained for. The information was so vast and up-to-date that it was going to make any topical comment irrelevant. What I discovered was “personalization.” This is described in benign primers from the company: “Through multi-armed bandit algorithms, we hunted for the best artwork for a title, say Stranger Things, that would earn the most plays from the largest fraction of our members. However, given the enormous diversity in taste and preferences, wouldn’t it be better if we could find the best artwork for each of our members to highlight the aspects of a title that are specifically relevant to them?”
Corporate Sop? Stranger Things appears under several categories that may or may not matter to me. Tagged as “Science Fiction from the Eighties” or “Scary Science Fiction With A Hint of E.T.,” the show had plenty of press build up. Does the company presume to be doing me a favor supplying artwork that appeals to me personally as if appealing on a communal level wasn’t enough? Maybe the doctoring of indexed thumbnails will make me more apt to choose a title? I was going to watch Stranger Things regardless of the advertising. I dug the music too: “Moody 80’s Synth.” As wary digester of this content, I scroll through the “modified” list of titles and categories. New titles pop up for perusal based on what you watched previously. Because I enjoyed Godless, a fabulous Western – devoured quickly – they bring up Hickok, which was a lousy Western. Wild Bill with short hair? Come on! Are we lemmings? Don’t answer that.
NETFLIX content enters your home streaming without notice. So what if they casually tailor to your specific demographic and identity politics? Is that so wrong? No different from Google, Spotify or Facebook. NETFLIX effortlessly dishes up graphic sex and gooey violence like anything on HBO or SHOWTIME but it is fancier in its targeting. The doctored meta-data delivers images that go straight to the heart of the content. Are you looking for an evil man’s face or a partially clad victim as illustration? Perhaps a bloody knife? Not sure if they brand for that in their little trailers that run on an infuriating loop. Keep a lookout for ghastly morgue shots. Your favorite actors may show up on a slab with a red maw where their chest used to be. Strange categories stand out: Next to “Nordic Noir” is “Northern European Crime Drama with Murdered Teenage Prostitutes By A Lake.” You can’t go wrong. Please keep those coming NETFLIX! Some films are Oscar-ready so you don’t have to race off to the deafening Mini-Plex! Some Algorithmic Categories have no titles yet. Some are desperately thin and disappointing. If you are in a Casablanca kind of mood, you may search Humphrey Bogart and find only his Oscar-Winning role in African Queen. Millennials will ask Humphrey-Who? Search “Pedophile Directors” and you will find Woody Allen has only one film on NETFLIX.
The NETFLIX digital video-store came out of nowhere. Within a few years they nearly replaced cable and broadcast. It has lead NETFLIX to near monopoly of consumer entertainment. Billions is now being set aside for new top-notch content. A good thing. Big Stars are tempted to make NETFLIX ORIGINALS for the not so “small screen.” It’s a good career move. Has this increased the demand for high quality? It seems so. Actors and directors are fully employed. Scriptwriters reach new heights. Maybe NETFLIX will put dire Reality TV phenomenon out of business.
What is striking is the binge element. There is no waiting week by week to catch up on a show. You can watch a whole series in a night or two. Several series if you are unemployed. Is there too much? Never. Now, I’m annoyed when I meet the oddball who doesn’t have NETFLIX. They live on a different planet, Amazon Prime. I can’t discuss The Crown with them, Stranger Things 2 or Hitler’s Super Weapons. Sometimes we watch via my wife’s list of titles. She watches a lot of subtitled Foreign Films and Space Westerns. Are they modified too? Yes, the minimally invasive cover shots change! Is that really so worrying for George Orwell types? It goes further. I am informed by my tech-team that the next flat-screen we buy will have the NETFLIX embedded, making it even more ubiquitous, no PlayStation needed. Will it vacuum the living room rug next?  
  

Saturday, July 29, 2017

Too Much Social Media Is A Bad Thing



 As I pass middle age, I am starting to feel like the Old Gunslinger surrounded by new fangled stuff like telephones and horseless carriages. I am only required when a new gang of ruffians rides into town and the local council is afraid to act. They text me at the saloon and beg me to come out of retirement. My Dad noticed the annoying technology when he was around 85 living with modern kids and grand kids, the whole family plugged-in and lap-topping. He would lament, “Things have changed.” He was missing old-fashioned conversation and dare I say it, manners. 

 There are loads of platitudes about our new way of life. People swear their lives are made much easier with Smartphones! “I can save the planet and get on with my narcissistic life at the same time!” “Hilarious tweet, Dude!” Every aspect of life has an app. “I bought an electric car on Amazon!” “Got a ride home with Uber!” The worst offender is Twitter. Every insignificant faux pas blasted around the world for painful and wasted scrutiny. “Thanks, Vlad. Enjoyed my evening with your Russian Prostitutes!” The British prefer texting because they don’t like human contact. Imagine what Wyatt Earp would say. “It’s all a lot of horseshit.” He doesn’t want to message ahead so his Starbucks is waiting when he pulls up out front. “Double Whip Grande for Wyatt!” He wants to sit in the establishment (with his back to the wall) and stare at people to see if they remember the OK Corral. “Aren’t you the guy from Tombstone?” That is what he wants to hear. He wants to take time over an interaction and explain the difference between myth and reality such as it is. Yes. He would say we are shallow. He might remark about how his place in history is marked by several inaccurate films. “Those are mere entertainments, sir. Although, I am a big Val Kilmer fan.”
With all our wisdom and tech-aids we have succumbed to Pop Culture in a bad way. No wonder he world is on a precipice led by Reality TV presidents. Can’t I say “You’re Fired” and change the channel? Part of me wants to embrace the digital world and the rest of me says, “Horseshit.” This guy is an asshole, communicating with his asshole base with tweets unworthy of a fifth grader. These same unemployed people, victims of the world takeover by Silicon Valley, voted him in. How clever is that? Elect a rich New York developer who has no taste. I can say this because I have read Hillbilly Elegy and have sympathy for their plight. I even look like one of them. Picture little grey beards and old-school rock tee shirts in a Big Box Store. I don’t think of them as “deplorables” but certainly don’t fancy my future wrapped up with theirs. I am not a blue-collar fellow no matter what my circumstances. I still prefer art theory to conspiracies even though the former is no longer lucid. It has long since been taken over by single-track Anti-Colonial nonsense. What would Baudelaire say? “C’est dommage?” Art itself has taken a dive in the past ten years or maybe been subsumed by media. There is nothing to review besides world chaos. I figure this coincides with Steve Job’s evil iPhone. Have you ever noticed the logo’s reference to Original Sin?
Can it be true that Apple, Google and Facebook (GOOF) have replaced my father’s favorites, GE and GM? Those companies along with Kodak, Coca-Cola, IBM and Xerox gave nice benefits if you worked for them and paid nice dividends if you invested with them. They also made stuff. That was the American Dream with social mobility guaranteed to some lucky folks. What has replaced it? Consumers are held captive by the monopoly of digital companies with no regulation of any sort. I like regulation. Boundaries are good for me. Withdrawal from the present day is an excellent strategy. Though, it takes a decided effort to take yourself out of the spin-cycle in order to re-assemble a more thoughtful reality.
Back to leadership. How did this nasty uncultured stuff became so popular in the first place? Surely, not through mere political polarization. Fox News, Reality TV and the lowest common denominator won out because they ran around our narrative. The progressive movement reached it’s height. Let’s not be nice about it. They hate art. It is for snobs like me. That aside, the only reason it has come to this is because we haven’t evaluated our blanket technology. This leaves Steve Bannon-types free to utilize alt-right gamers in elections. These actions led us to perdition and a crisis that will last until the next 911. Until then, I will continue looking for a historical precedent for the speed of change that Wyatt can live with.

Tuesday, January 10, 2017

Evening With Sister Ray


Aficionados of the Velvet Underground were out in force on a freezing Thursday, December 15, 2016 for a commemoration of their performance 50 years ago at the Gershman Y in Philadelphia. The band had hardly begun in 1966, when they played a number of shows with their “producer” Andy Warhol and his Exploding Plastic Inevitable. This was prior to recording their first record, the one with the banana on the cover. I was ten, lived in the Atlanta suburbs and wanted to be The Man from Uncle. Little did I know that the ICA in arty Philadelphia had given Andy Warhol his first museum show in 1964. Apparently, he was scared stiff.
On the bill were Britt Phillips and Dean Wareham performing along with select Warhol Screen Test films and veterans Yo la Tengo playing all VU music. The night re-convened with Britt & Dean (formerly half of the band Luna) playing newly commissioned soundtracks from their latest album: Thirteen Most Beautiful… Songs for Andy Warhol Screen Tests. Some of these scores resembled softer Velvety tunes and paid homage (logically) with guitar echo and reverb while other songs featured electronic drones and digital drums appropriate to art events. It was interesting to see a band pair up their curiosity in Warhol’s films with their fascination of the Velvet Underground. There is a distinction.
Warhol’s screen tests are always compelling time capsules shot at 24 frames per second and projected at 12 so they resemble still portraits until the subject moves. 500 Screen Tests were made between 1966 and 1968 featuring New York’s underworld of poets, celebrities, porn stars and drug addicts. An early death awaited many of the Factory’s odd cast of characters – Andy escaped nearly his after he was shot in 1968 by disgruntled Valerie Solanis. His prodigy, Edie Sedgwick died in 1971. Model and singer, Nico is in full command of her test, swanning around for the camera. Dennis Hopper’s test is titled Herringbone Tweed after his jacket. Within the space of a few minutes, the actor creates a stern faced narrative punctuated by worried moments and finally a smile as if he had finally found his car keys.  I kept thinking how he ends up headless in Apocalypse Now. Lou Reed’s screen test with Coke bottle was the epitome of nonchalance providing a little levity behind wraparound shades.
Yo la Tengo stood in for the Velvet Underground once before in the 1996 film, I Shot Andy Warhol, but they are mostly known for furious flights of fancy and delicate songs with deadpan vocals much like the Lou Reed.  They are also known for carefully selected cover songs ­– see their silly video version of The Cure’s, Friday, I’m in Love. This night dealt solely with the dissonant side of the Velvet Underground. To start, drummer, Georgia Hubley (who can’t help but channel VU’s drummer, Mo Tucker) sang a few songs from The Velvet Underground and Nico. Yo la Tengo then launched into less radio-friendly VU territory with some signature noise, finishing the show with an hour of inspired feedback. Ira Kaplan’s guitar wall moved in and out, above and below the “rhythm section” creating a strange, swirling undertow punctured by staccato piano or growling viola. The barrage may have surprised the audience who might have been expecting a standard rock show or 60’s flashback. They forgot that much of the impact of the Velvet Underground was the sonic approach borrowed from contemporary art and progressive jazz. This is where the band (and those who re-create and expand the ouvre) diverted from Warhol and created its own lasting legacy. Melodies and lyrics are almost an aberration.