This exhibition of works by DFW-area MFA candidates took place in an interesting old warehouse property at 500 Singleton in Dallas during the weekend of the "Bridge-O-Rama" Peggy Hill Bridge celebrations. The show was organized by Stephen Lapthisophon; more details at the FaceBook page for the event or at its website, 500WEST.
I shot these photos right before leaving town and unfortunately didn't include much labelling; my recollection is that maybe it was a little harder to find than usual? Sorry about that. Given what I take to have been part of the exhibition's premise of working with and responding to an existing building or place with its own character, however, it was in fact satisfying to explore the show the way you would any other place, rather than as a series of discretely identified sub-experiences.
Maybe 2/3 of the way through the show, the power went out; so, starting with P1130029.JPG (red spray-painted graffiti on a white-panelled wall), there was no light other than my camera flash or natural light.
I greatly enjoyed the allure and complexity of the piece that starts here – the piece started calling you as soon as you stepped into the building. Once you found it, it was just dam' beautiful, with lots of intriguing components. To start, what was the salt-white powder on the floor? And I liked the slyly humorous suggestion of a little old t.v. skidding to a stop with the aid of braking parachutes, like a race car or the batmobile – also implicating the velocity with which t.v.'s transmissions enter our minds, often bypassing our critical faculties to a greater degree than, say, the contents of texts (see, e.g., here). All this kept me in the room long enough to discover the aperture revealing the small painting of a cat (Schrödinger’s?), sleeping or dead, in a small, painted room very like the room in which the t.v. sat, all configured in an arrangement not unlike a diorama – was the cat run over, or dreamed, by the t.v.? or is the t.v. the dream of the cat? or did the painting represent a history or future of the room to which it was attached, or an alternate reality? is this reality semi-fractal? Among many other intriguing details and possibilities. Unfortunately, the audio was a bit unclear for me, and I never managed to decipher just what it was calling. (UPDATE: I've been informed by Randall Garrett that this installation was by Jeff Gibbons – thanks!) (FURTHER UPDATE: Jeff's told me that the audio says, "The sun will come out . . . "; more in his comment below.)
I also enjoyed the piece that starts here (in the first photo, the actual piece starts to the right of the white door) – I appreciated the combination of references to the art of meditation and the ultra-orderly science of math, and the chaos and aesthetic appeal of deterioration and trash; and I especially liked the way the audio both surprised me and drew me around the far edge into a dark corner with small light sources and more, not-fully-visible detritus – with an implication that maybe this nook was the most important part of the installation; yet you weren't sure what if anything much were there. (UPDATE: I've been informed by Ali Starr that this piece was by Matt Heller – thanks!)
And there were other fine works. This seems as good a time as any to mention that Lapthisophon has organized a pretty long series of pretty terrific exhibitions lately, and to say thanks! and that I hope he and his collaborators will keep doing interesting things here.
Another of my favorite components of P.2 New Orleans was the satellite show curated by John Otte, "Constant Abrasive Irritation Produces the Pearl: A Disease of the Oyster" - Lenny Bruce.
The setting for the show is The Pearl, a residence-speakeasy-restaurant-exhibition space further described by Eric Bookhardt at The Gambit as "a 200-year-old farm house posing as a nondescript Bywater residence. It has served as a private salon and performance hall for owner Jay Poggi (aka MC Trachiotomy) and his friends for more than 20 years . . . . "
Otte found The Pearl packed with what looks like the most intriguing detritus from numerous lifetimes. He decided to work with the existing stuff, rather than against it; the results are magical. As he writes in his curatorial statement, "[s]culptures and two-dimensional works are strategically placed to interact with already existing assemblages and vignettes. . . . Videos are ceiling-mounted, wall-mounted, projected, and embedded throughout the space in a nod to the vast proliferation of tv screens and video projections currently found in many public spaces . . . . "
The work is highly eclectic; hence, at least in part, the show's title, which might apply to any "pearls" of art resulting from social or other disturbances, or to any art that seeks to disturb.
While most of the disturbances in the show merit attention on their own, I realized there were a few I might normally have felt less than thrilled with (for reasons having to do with, among other things, how some video art doesn't seem to exploit the medium's potential sufficiently to justify the kind of sustained attention the medium tends to demand from viewers [which, as a video art maker, I find frustrating insofar as it turns people off to the medium]) – but as installed, most of the pieces were thrilling; and nearly all benefit from their encystment among objects that, old and odd as they were, made the "art" more luminous.
By thoughtfully utilizing Poggi's curated detritus (which itself draws from the output of numerous intentional and perhaps unintentional artists), Otte's taken curation-as-art-practice to the next level.
(I enjoyed using my secret weapon {camera flash} to unveil some of the mysteries supporting Otte's construct; and confirmed that The Pearl's contents emulate the larger world's in that, the more you see, the greater the mystery as well as the meaning. But they were extra-fun to discover, via the occasion provided by the videos and by overcoming the darkness required to show them.)
I sent Otte some questions and have incorporated his answers about particular works into an online gallery of visuals from the show, here, and below are his answers to a couple of more general questions:
C: Some of the pieces seemed to me greatly enhanced by their physical locations and contextual elements, e.g. Susannah Bridges Burley's, Brian Guidry's, and Dave Greber's (in a building entrance, on the floor). I'd be curious to know which if any of those aspects they'd include if the work were shown in a completely different setting.
Otte: You would have to ask the artists that question. It would be great to know what they retain from this show, and end up using from this experience. I suspect many will continue to show these and similar pieces in the future as discreet autonomous pieces.
Most of Dave Greber's videos employ wonderfully heavy frames that relate to paintings as well as windows. I originally cut out a plywood "window" frame for Dave's piece: Join Us Today as it was initially shown on a very nice Samsung 24" flat screen tv. In fact, it was first displayed lying in a nearby wood pile. However, the concentrated humidity in the air of New Orleans and the horizontal positioning ended up destroying the flat screen tv after about a month's time. I had an understanding with Dave that the piece would probably change form during the course of the show due to its precarious installation. I also let him know that I would immediately inform him of any necessary changes, and get his O.K. before proceeding with the changes. And, I can tell you that with each artist, I carefully considered a multitude of aspects with regard to content and context as well as micro and macro scales. I am constantly considering the meanings that result from various placements and media arrangements. In fact, that's a major driver behind this exhibition. I feel that the white-walled detached gallery/museum experience seems so played-out at this point. I believe that 21st Century viewers require many other things to inform our experience of art these days. Very few artworks have any resonance for me when isolated from everything else. Let's take the Renaissance for example - just think of the massive artistic egos of those such as Michelangelo and Raphael. Yet, they were (seemingly) enthralled by the chance to include their own masterpieces among the art, architecture and music of countless other artists, artisans, musicians and architects. Regardless, that was just the way things were done then.
I certainly believe the element of sound plays a crucial role here, especially in the interaction among the works of Brian Guidry, Dave Greber and Anastasia Pelias - they all have interpenetrating soundtracks which add up to one grand composition according to my aural perception. It is also exciting to visually apprehend various combinations of the videos from different vantage points.
C: I get the idea of art resulting from and functioning as an irritant in the oyster of life, and these works generally seem to question important aspects of the way society operates; but there are arguable exceptions, such as Courtney Egan's or Dawn DeDeaux's pieces, and the work otherwise seemed pretty eclectic. I'd be interested if you could share any further thoughts about how and why you selected the works included.
Otte: On one hand, the artworks are the 'pearls' that I've extracted from the oyster (the world). On the other hand, they are like punctuation marks in the larger composition of The Pearl - they serve as contrast elements to the rest of the space, images and accretions of objects.
I was directed to a number of the artists by Anastasia Pelias, who seemed to have a very good idea about what I wanted to do as a curator, and who ultimately turned out to be a very reliable source for me. In the end, I had to really ride the dynamics of the system already extant at The Pearl. The Pearl suggested so many possibilities and offered so many opportunities for a wide spectrum of visual and aural experiences that I knew I wanted only to add to the mix rather than take away from it too much. Well, mostly . . . I found that simply clearing paths for viewers to get from one place to another really seemed to help a lot. And, the act of "carving away" some of the chaotic messes only seemed to enhance other chaotic messes! Before installing the show, I spent a lot of time in the backyard pruning and 'defining' the plants, deciding which outgrowths to keep and which to get rid of. Sometimes it was really hard to decide which sets of weeds were interesting and which were not. When this difficulty persisted, I simply left them alone.
The decision to work primarily with video offered the opportunity for as much life as possible to continue on unabated at The Pearl. The videos, as much as possible, stay out of the way - not entirely, but a lot of the time. Of course, all of this technology is so precarious and vulnerable and dependent upon electricity. And, by the way, I must admit my indebtedness to technology - I am also a DJ. So, I'm often confronted with the question: what happens when the power goes out? Well, the answer is I'm TOTALLY F*CKED with all this dependency on technology! I absolutely admire the emphasis in this town of singing and playing and doing things with non-electric instruments and whatever's at hand. I love the use of candles, etc. I love oil paint and marble. I love it all, really. I just feel the need to constantly recognize the precariousness of all life at the dawn of this New Millennium, and especially with regard to this show. Call it a 'diseased' state if you will. Yet, in the end, it's probably no more diseased than at any other period.
Finally, I would have to say that I am most proud of the fact that this sprawling amorphous exhibition is just so . . . expansive. It is a spectrum of experiences, leading one down many different paths and potential paths only to turn back on itself. Many aspects of this exhibition are so stupid (in my mind) and silly beyond comprehension. I really feel this way. In fact, I must include my own stupidity in so much of it. In my opinion, only a few (and certainly not my) pieces contain moments of 'High Art' brilliance, and everything else is somewhere caught in between. But, that's really the point of this show. It's all stuff that's potentially interesting . . . and not. It's like a great big wonderful party where lots and lots of people are invited. Everyone's babbling away, but only some have 'important' things to say. Yet, who knows? What's important, in the end, can only be decided individually. I guess you had to be there . . .
[* substituted by moi.]
As for substantive themes in evidence at The Pearl and elsewhere in P.2, artists seemed concerned with issues having to do with social and economic justice, the corporatization of humanity and humanization of corporations, the power of p.r., social systems and interactions, the environment and our seemingly attenuating relationship to it, and our place in an ever-expanding universe, among other things.
Explorations of time, history, and real and virtual space were also much in view.
I was struck in particular by the prevalence in P.2 video of images of the ebb and flow of wind and water, and leaves' wavery shadows or reflections in water or elsewhere, e.g. in works by Dawn Dedeaux, Otte & Dahlgren, Jonas Dahlberg (see visuals starting here) and Pawel Wojtasik (see visuals starting here).
Of course, the water thing certainly makes sense in the wake (pardon the multiple pun) of Katrina; but I commented last year on the prevalence of the same motifs among NYFF "Avant Garde" films. By the fourth time you see it, it starts to feel clichéd; by the eighth, you're wondering about collective compulsion (by which I mainly mean that artists may as usual be being among the first to recognize that we're about ready to do some important work on something).
These videos are of course about various things, and perhaps it's a bit of a leap, but esp. in the context of other elements present in the works, the waving, bobbing imagery seems suggestive to me of such aspects of time and history as rhythm, periodicity, tides, drift, wavelength, arc length, etc., and perhaps even a sort of fractal view of time – video is, after all, esp. amenable to the exploration of issues relating to time.
Back in 2008, I tried unsuccessfully to talk my co-curators of The Program into considering a focus on time and/or history, which seemed to me prevalent concerns in work we'd seen.
My thoughts on the subject remain far from fully-formed – hey, ditto physicists' – but why wouldn't we be collectively obsessed with time? Among other accelerating developments, technology has increased our power over time a thousand-fold – while further enslaving us to the project of mastering it – and now holds out the prospect of virtual immortality. Why wouldn't we be obsessed both with our histories and the systems through which they're preserved or re-written, as we hurtle into the future carrying individual and collective pasts at once exploding in volume yet evidenced by physical relics that remain fragile and by virtual archives ever more easily deleted or revised with a few keystrokes?
This is the third of three reports from Prospect.2 New Orleans; for the others, click on the "Prospect.2" label below this post. Prospect.2 runs through January 29, with the exhibition at The Pearl open on Saturdays and Sundays only, from 5 - 9pm, at 639 Desire.
For most of my life, I have not been a fan of overtly political art (although I happen to think all art works {as well as other expressions} have at least indirect political implications, by omission or otherwise). So why did I take on this project?
First, I did connect to the politics of Temporary Services' ART WORK newspaper. Society benefits tremendously from artists' efforts, yet very few artists make a living at it; indeed, many whose works are in major art museums need dayjobs to get by.
But more importantly, artists could be poster-kids for the lower and middle classes in general. People in the U.S. work at least as long, hard, and efficiently as workers anywhere in the world. Our productivity has doubled, but our inflation-adjusted incomes have actually declined. The quality of life for most of us as measured by important criteria has fallen dramatically since the 1970's and earlier (see Elizabeth Warren's brilliant presentation; see also here), and it's substantially below that enjoyed in many other developed countries (see here; see also here).
Meanwhile, the rich have grown vastly richer, and the gap in wealth between the top few percent and the rest of us has skyrocketed to an all-time high (see here; also here). As Warren Buffet's said, "It's class warfare, [and] my class is winning, but they shouldn't be." (CNN interview).
If there's been one good result from our tribulations during the last ten years, it's that many more of us have realized we simply cannot afford not to pay attention to political and economic matters, and that things probably won't get much better so long as we continue to allow the few who control disproportionate wealth to make all the big decisions (see, e.g., here).
But while the rest of us have overwhelming numbers, we remain powerless unless we understand what's going on, and organize, at least for certain purposes.
Most of us have been operating as individual entrepreneurs for years now, and there are benefits to that approach. But it's left us atomized and isolated from one another. Maybe we're ready to put our heads together to think about ways to have our entrepreneurial cake and still put food on the table.
Change for the better may not be easy – destruction is easy; creation is hard – but I happen to believe with Andy Warhol, Margaret Mead et al. that it can be done (hey, if we can change Earth's climate as a mere side-effect of other efforts, imagine what we could do if we actually tried).
But that was not the only reason I got involved in the ART WORK project.
During the last few years, I'd become aware of the terms, "relational art," "littoral art," "discursive art," "participatory art," etc. These terms have been used by various writers (Nicolas Bourriaud, Grant Kester, Claire Bishop, Liam Gillick, et al.) who define them in distinctly different ways, but there seems to be some overlap in the kinds of art they're talking about. I've found these terms to be powerful tools for thinking about a trend I personally, roughly describe as art in which the artist's main focus is the production or modification of relationships among people, as distinguished from the production of some other art object. That is, while the project or practice may yield material artifacts, or involve performance, the construction of an environment for viewers, or other things or activities we've recognized as art in the past, what's new-ish is that the artist's principal preoccupation seems to be with the creation or modification of relationships, rather than any object, environment, or even performance – i.e., arguably, the principal art "object" is the relationships formed, or the modifications made to them, in the course of the practice.
(Writers discussing the relational trend disagree intensely about the best ways to define it or to evaluate the works it might include. Such questions go beyond what I can address in this post, but they'd be part of conversations I'd like to have.)
Much of the art I've found most exciting during the last decade and more arguably falls into this "relational" category, as defined in the way I currently find most interesting. I'm thinking of, e.g., Rotozaza's GuruGuru (discussion here), Cao Fei's RMB City (see also here), Meiro Koizumi's Art of Awakening and Human Opera XXX (here), eteam's Second Life Dumpster (see also here), Graffiti Research Lab (see also here) and at least some of Good/Bad Art Collective's projects (see here; and other highly-respected artists associated with this trend and whose work I admire or find interesting include Marina Abramovic, Liam Gillick, Pierre Huyghe, and Phillippe Parreno, to name a few).
Temporary Services' project is definitely relational. They didn't just produce a newspaper; they recruited people nationwide to help distribute it, and they invited everyone interested to take the ball and run with it – to use the newspaper as a springboard to create their own exhibitions, discussions, or events. Their goal is to create and modify relationships – in particular, to inspire us to combine our creativity and other strengths to bring greater fairness to art workers and others, creating or modifying relationships not only among ourselves but within society at large.
(Temporary Services' project may also be related to trends having to do with collectivity and socially-engaged art practices generally, which have their notable practitioners and theorists, as well as to conceptual art. I also find it interesting that the artists chose to distribute their publication in the form of hardcopy newspapers, at a time when print is on the ropes, as well as via the project's website. The collective has been described as "working out of a Situationist tradition"; their work or publications have been been featured at Mass MoCA, The Elizabeth Foundation for the Arts, the Smart Museum of Art, and elsewhere.)
But although relational art and theorizing have been around for some years (Bourriaud's seminal Relational Aesthetics was first published in French in 1998 and discusses work created in the 90's), we've seen relatively little of this kind of work in the Dallas area (Good/Bad was a brilliant, early instance; but I know of few others); and I'm aware of even less public discussion here of relational (or of socially engaged) practices.
So another motive for turning Temporary Services' project into an occasion for an exhibition, etc. was to bring more of this kind of work into view here and perhaps inspire conversation about the ART WORK project as art – relational or otherwise – or not-art.
The work shown in the main gallery at CentralTrak "present[s] projects that propose solutions for contemporary artists seeking to work outside of the 'white box' to secure greater economic autonomy during this post-market-glut economic correction" (see CentralTrak); i.e., works reflecting artists' responses as individuals (among other things). This portion of the exhibition was organized by Kate Sheerin, Director of CentralTrak, and includes works by Richie Budd, Gary Farrelly, Thomas Riccio and Frank Dufour, Ludwig Schwarz, Marjorie Schwarz, and give up. The opening reception also included "Son of Trunk Show," presented by Shelby Cunningham and featuring eight other artists.
I think the two areas complement one another in interesting, even provocative ways.
IsART WORK "art"? After viewing the show, one prominent local critic told me I should be an activist – implying that I should stay away from art. I suggested there could be no greater art project than to help make a better world (to which s/he objected, "[i]sn't that terribly self-absorbed?" I replied, how is that more self-absorbed than building a company or having a family?)
So yes, my own working hypothesis is that, to some degree or in some sense, ART WORK is art.
And you don't have to like ART WORK, or agree with its political orientation, or even agree that it's art, to agree that now is a good time for us to talk about those questions.
For more info about the ART WORK in dallas event series, see my previous post, or click on the "ART WORK in dallas" label below.
(The image top right is of a naturally-occurring fractal in the form of a Romanesco cabbage, from "Fractal Food." The image center left is of Tracy Hicks' Moose, from the National Academy of Sciences Online via Mutable Matter, and the image bottom right is also from Mutable Matter, apparently by the blog author – thanks, Angela!)
UPDATE: Great review of the show by Erin Starr White in Art Lies, Fall 2010. For visuals of the exhibition, see here.
Bourriaud keeps nailing some of the same things I've been seeing.
Near the end, he suggests history is the new, last undiscovered continent, which artists are exploring as if it were a jungle (cf. my posts on Barney, Linzy, and Trends at the 2009 NYC Fairs.)
Find Bourriaud's altermodernist "manifesto" (and another instance of the video) at the Tate. (Interesting to compare the comments there to those on YouTube.)
by Lori Waxman (click on the image to enlarge). Basically,
"For two to three days the critic is available, in a given location (usually an artist-run gallery or non-profit arts center), to any artist who wants a review. Artists bring in their work and, on a first-come, first-served basis, the critic spends twenty minutes writing them a review of one to two hundred words. She guarantees a thoughtful, critical but not necessarily positive review. The text is then “published” by the receptionist and posted on an adjacent wall for everyone—critic, artist, receptionist, audience—to read. Eventually all or some of the reviews are published in a magazine or newspaper."
More info here. I'd be v. interested in reports from participants (in any capacity).
UPDATE: Thanks to fluent~collaborative for granting my wish: the critic's performance is reviewed by 7 artists here.
More pics and vidis starting here. It didn't hurt that it was smaller, or that the first thing you saw when you walked in said, "Enough with the deer already." Or that they created a couple of goofy, lounge-y spaces (e.g.) where people actually seemed to want to hang out.
My personal experience was also enhanced by encountering the relational Lossy Data Lab (see also here; pics starting here), whose work was not only intelligent but really fun and funny. They had me fill out a questionnaire, on the basis of which their "computer" determined that there is "Lossy data present in [my] readings, which is both good and bad" – just as I feared. And The Poem Store (pics starting here), whose proprietor also offered art reviews; so I commissioned a review of the Lossy Data Lab. I thot his product was pretty fine considering he pounded it out on a 1970's (?) Japanese Olivetti knock-off while maintaining cogent conversation with a constant stream of customers (text of poem/art review reproduced below). Pls see the visuals at the links above for a fuller appreciation of these works.
I also liked the work of EVOL and of the artists at 798 Avant Gallery, among others. It's hard to tell from the pics, but EVOL's paintings are on ordinary corrugated cardboard using silver paint along with a spare palette of other colors; all the tan parts are just the cardboard showing through. Irene Presner's piece was created with a tattoo gun.
A certain pic at the first link above is included solely to doc. another artist inspired, shall we say, by Erick Swenson.
Here's the text of The Poem Store's review of the Lossy Data Lab (pls excuse, I can't reproduce the original format here, which is indented one space more at the beginning of each successive line; see pic here):
the lossy data lab makes something of information when given to people as a return form causal loop of seems pretty perfect for its ineptitude as visual interface but assuredly thorough and confident even in their sprawling ambiguity and un conventional presentation i think they are more in line with the future of art as a responsive public service intervention on the edge of what anoil [sic] painting to do about relational aesthetics
The purpose of this post is to explore work by three artists, Patti Smith, Jem Cohen, and Kurt Cobain.
My focus originally was on the Patti Smith/Jem Cohen cover video, but it pretty quickly stopped making sense to try to analyze it without discussing Cobain's lyrics and the original Nirvana video. I began without any idea where I might land; the new video just seemed to me so carefully wrought that close attention would likely be fruitful.
My analysis led me to conclude that the Smith/Cohen version responds in profound and powerful ways both to the original Nirvana version and to our times two decades later. In short, I believe the new version mourns both Cobain and our present lot – Cobain's lyrics have proved only too prescient – while on the other hand, also pointing toward a better future; but one we can hope to reach only if we persevere in trying to understand, to create, and to pass on the results of our and our forebears' efforts.
If you haven't already done so, please go ahead and watch the Smith/Cohen video; I like people to have their own experience of a work before someone else tells them what it's "supposed" to mean (apologies for any ads in front):
The following analysis is based on the lyrics, music, and videos, together with whatever general knowledge I possess of matters I think the song may be concerned with. I have no background knowledge about Nirvana, Patti Smith, or Jem Cohen, other than what I picked up recently through brief research on the 'net. (Also, I do not by any means suppose I've managed to exhaust the meanings of these works. So, if you think I've missed or misunderstood anything of interest, please let me know!)
According to Wikipedia, the song was released in 1991. It was quickly "dubbed an 'anthem for apathetic kids' of Generation X." Since then . . .
"In 2000, MTV and Rolling Stone ranked the song third on their joint list of the 100 best [ever] pop songs, trailing only The Beatles' 'Yesterday' and The Rolling Stones' '(I Can't Get No) Satisfaction.' The Recording Industry Association of America's 2001 'Songs of the Century' project placed 'Teen Spirit' at number 80, above Miles Davis' 'Kind of Blue' and The Beatles' 'Sgt. Pepper's Lonely Hearts Club Band' albums. In 2002, NME awarded the song the number two spot on its list of '100 Greatest Singles of All Time,' while in 2003 VH1 placed 'Smells Like Teen Spirit' number one on its list of '100 Greatest Songs of the Past 25 Years.' . . . Rolling Stone ranked 'Smells Like Teen Spirit' ninth in its 2004 list of The 500 Greatest Songs of All Time . . . . In the 2006 VH1 UK poll, 'The Nation's Favourite Lyric,' the line 'I feel stupid and contagious/here we are now, entertain us' was ranked as the third-favorite song lyric among over 13,000 voters. In contrast, Time magazine proposed in its entry for Nevermind on 'The All-TIME 100 Albums' from 2006 that "Smells Like Teen Spirit" [. . .] may be the album's worst song.'"
I find the title of a work is usually important. "Teen spirit" seems related to "school spirit" or "team spirit" – an attitude encouraged by school administrators, parents, and other authorities of enthusiasm and a sort of patriotism toward one's school and its student teams; this take is of course consistent with the visuals in the Nirvana video.
Learning to work as a team may be helpful, but patriotisms of various kinds have often been used by authorities to shut down debate and induce the rest of us to sacrifice our own pursuits in order to carry out unpleasant or dangerous tasks chosen – perhaps wisely and perhaps not – by the authorities. As Samuel Johnson said, "[p]atriotism is the last refuge of a scoundrel."
"Teen spirit" implicates whatever "teen" includes, which is a lot; but here I think of creatures with more than sufficient size, strength, and sexual drive to challenge and defeat their elders, but who also suffer from raging hormones, inexperience, and insecurity.
Adults may hope through school spirit to direct teen energy away from questioning their authority, and perhaps in particular male teen energy away from inseminating teen or other females, and to channel such energy instead toward pseudo-warfare against teens at other schools – characterized as a wholesome outlet. The fantasy seems to be of teens transformed from an ungovernable and potentially dangerous rabble, threatening adults in ways as diverse and unpredictable as individual teens are themselves, into a uniform corps obedient to every authority other than their own desires and hopes.
To me, "smells" indicates skepticism toward this kind of spirit or patriotism. The word conjures l'air du locker-room, possibly evoking a salacious underside of the "spirit" fantasy, an underside one suspects adults enjoy as much as the fantasy itself, at least so long as it remains under their control.
But it also states unequivocally that there's something about "teen spirit" that stinks. I suspect at least two kinds of odor. Given the rest of the song, "smells" must surely refer to the stench of being a teen. I don't accept that attitude and doubt Cobain did; but many teens suffer a degree of insecurity that blurs into self-loathing. Without getting too psychoanalytic, among the many changes teens must come to terms with is the fact that their own bodies are literally emitting new substances and smells, at least some of which Madison Avenue and the corporate interests they represent would have teens believe repellant – we should load up not only on guns but on mouthwash, deodorants, and douches (see, e.g., this recent WSJ article: "Next week, MTV plans to air 'The Gamekillers,' a new TV series about young men's quests to win over women. . . . the series is also about Unilever PLC's quest to sell more Axe antiperspirant.") Size is another challenge: teens' bodies are suddenly expanding in various directions; meanwhile, Madison Avenue continually and simultaneously urges them to eat while warning they'll be unattractive unless reed-thin. For these and other reasons, it's easy for teens and all of us to fear that we may in fact be defective and repellant.
The other kind of stink refers, I believe, to the more "real" meaning: the stench of authoritarian subjugation through propaganda and manipulation.
Of course it's not just school administrators and parents who encourage "spirit," but governments, corporations, industries, religious leaders – virtually every kind of authority you can point to seeks to foster its own version of a "healthy" attitude that basically consists of my-team's-better-than-yours, my leader is the most important person on my team, and I'm ready to sacrifice myself for my team and my leader. Real benefits to the corps may or may not actually materialize from this attitude, but it's invariably advantageous for the leader.
So, while on the surface, the title sounds like a slur on teens, and I'm afraid it accurately expresses many teens' self-perceptions, I think we'll find its more important purpose is to caption an indictment of the society in which teens and the rest of us find ourselves.
The original Nirvana music video was directed by Samuel Bayer, who's said he believes "he was hired because his test reel was so poor the band anticipated his production would be 'punk' and 'not corporate.'" According to Wikipedia, Cobain exerted a strong influence over the result. It was his idea, at the end of a long afternoon of shooting, to allow the extras to mosh, which resulted in the demolition of the set. In addition, Cobain "disliked Bayer's final edit and personally oversaw a re-edit of the video that resulted in the version finally aired."
About the Patti Smith/Jem Cohen version, Cohen says, "[t]he film is a domestic portrait of Patti and her son, Jackson. William Blake was invited in the form of a plaster cast of his death mask. Kurt Cobain (conflicted, fierce, gentle, and another mother's son) was invited as an admirer of Leadbelly. Cats were invited as household saints. The film invokes New York and rural America. It is about picking up guitars and doing dirty dishes." (See Video Data Bank)
Smith was a fan of Cobain's and after his death, recorded a tribute to him, "About a Boy," although she was reportedly angered as well as saddened by his suicide. (Wikipedia)
As the original Nirvana video opens, the first thing we see is the school janitor. His head is cut off by the picture frame, perhaps suggesting anonymity. By the time Cobain's voice kicks in, the camera is cutting back to the janitor for the third time. Note that of all the adults in a school, the janitor may be the one with the least authority – the most invisible, a servant even to the kids – the adult closest to being on their level, equally outcast, perhaps even more thoroughly subjugated than the teens. He's holding a mop handle, and oddly, he has a rag or something in his hand, which he dips into the bucket and then uses to wipe the pole, which makes little sense unless read as standing in for jacking off. The reference to masturbation is also apt in that, to the extent authorities succeed in controlling teen sexuality, that's what teens are left with.
(Please understand, I do NOT believe it's a good idea for high-school kids to engage in full-blown sexual relations; but I do think the Nirvana video implicates the issue, and more importantly, the means by which adults seek to control teen sexuality – and, perhaps most importantly, that these matters serve as metaphors with respect to the possibility that the same or similar means are used by other authorities to maintain control over other populations with respect to other behaviors.)
The Smith/Cohen video opens with a "5 – 4 – 3 – 2 – 1." To me this connotes a reversal of time, or at least some kind of blast-off, insemination, conception, or birth – something only creativity can accomplish. The next thing we see is a death's head of William Blake, largely in shadow, perched on an arm before a brighter wall – which might seem paradoxical, until we realize that this momento is not just of mori (death) but also of immortality: Smith, making brilliant work in 2007, still finds Blake's work inspiring enough to keep this object from a mold of his head made 180 years ago (and Slate confirms, Smith's songs "have been known to involve digressions about William Blake.")
I think we'll see that heads or the lack thereof may be significant in these videos. (My friend Danette thought of Goya's painting of Saturn devouring his son – an association I find apt.)
Cohen gives the picture a couple of jumps at or after the "2 – 1," as if there's some kind of slight stutter involved in getting our time machines, memories, or cognitive faculties focussed in on this scene that incorporates so much, good or ill, of how we got to where we are at this moment. (By the way, I find the visual surface of the entire film utterly gorgeous, black and white, gritty, smudged, glinting like charcoal.)
Throughout the song as played by Nirvana, the music seems to sound from the depths of anger and depression, yet the opening is snarky and energetic.
Smith's opening notes are an order of magnitude lower and slower than Cobain's. Her music and Cohen's images convey depression or perhaps mourning, lethargy, neglect, perhaps waste. We see a close-up of a cat, gazing, engrossed (a predator, among other things). Cut to a descending dove (emblem of peace, and cats' prey, among other things). Another glimpse of Blake's head, now on an end table littered with CD's and miscellany, at one end of a couch, the seat of which is covered with a plain blanket. Then we see Smith's hands, washing dishes next to a cluttered counter. The banjo has cut in; and at some points, Smith's vocalization is unmistakably, one can only presume intentionally, "country."
Load up on guns, bring your friends – The lyrics seem to reference the militia movement-types, perhaps the NRA, and a lot of nations, certainly including the U.S., which now manufactures little other than weapons and divertainment. (Note: the Columbine shootings occurred in 1999, eight years after the Nirvana recording.) As we first hear Smith's voice, we see her descend a staircase, which we might read as a visual for a trend toward decline and depression. This echoes the previous descent of the dove, a likely visual for the decline of peace.
Smith's hair hangs in twisted strings; she's wearing a men's plaid flannel shirt over a flimsy flowered nightgown or skirt, with combat boots (Danette, a Gen X'er, says the shirt probably references Cobain). She carries her guitar at times almost the way a small child would a security blanket, dragging it unconsciously behind or bearing it in front of her like a shield; at other times she wields it like a guerilla with an AK-47. (Art can, of course, destroy as well as create.)
It's fun to lose and to pretend She's over-bored and self-assured – A possible, initial interpretation of Cobain's lyric is that he's been rejected by some girl and assuages the pain by pretending she's flawed. More particularly, "[i]t's fun to lose" – there may be satisfaction in being rejected, among other reasons because you don't have to interact more closely with the Other, of whom you might actually be rather frightened, and also in pretending you didn't really want the Other anyway because she was too oblivious to have engaged in genuine interaction anyway. Also, could Cobain possibly also have had in mind "overboard" – as in over the top or maybe "man overboard"?
But of course, I don't think this stanza is just about spinning romantic rejection, but also invokes similar processes on other levels. Public figures of all kinds seem to have grown increasingly confident that they can spin every setback as a triumph (e.g., V.P. Cheney's "last throes"); some neocons even seem to believe they can actually replace reality with "truthiness" (see also Bush's aide's infamous disdain for the "reality-based community"). Spin has been carried to extremes during the last several years, but the trend was well underway when Cobain wrote his song.
It's also fun to lose in the sense that it excuses one from further effort and affords relief from any pressure for further success. Note that the next stanza speaks of being "worse at what I do best/ and for this gift I feel blessed." That could mean a lot of things, and we'll get to some of them below, but it may pick up on this thought.
At this point in the Smith/Cohen video, Smith herself looks perhaps overbored and self-assured, though we're not sure how genuine that is. She seems to sing, she's overbored, "myself assured" – possibly a suggestion that oneself (Smith) is now alive and safe, in contrast to the fact that the Other (Cobain?) has fallen overboard? This may be a stretch but seems consistent with the rest of the piece.
(I don't necessarily believe artists consciously plan all of these meanings in advance, but I prefer at least to give their unconsciouses credit for choices that happen to enhance the meaningfulness of their works. And if you find even that implausible, I'd argue that even if this meaningfulness was completely inadvertent on the part of the artist, it may help account for why the work has resonated so strongly with so many other people.)
Oh no, I know a dirty word – This sounds like a little kid who feels titillated but unsure of whether he should be speaking about it or even what it's all about. The suggestion seems to be that teens (or we) have to some extent been kept in an infantilized or regressed state, perhaps as a result of having been deprived of the maturation that might have come through greater experience of reality in the course of attempting to act on our own authentic desires.
What's the word? I can't be certain what the artists had in mind; one possibility might be "whored" for its rhyme with bored and the way it would suit the other kinds of referents mentioned above – politicians, Madison Avenue, etc. And I think we have to speculate that the "oh no" isn't just about names that could be applied to the Other, but also about names for the speaker/singer – the teens or consumers whom others want to use as whores; certain rock musicians . . . .
Of course, putting things into words is the beginning of knowledge, without which there is no real power – "[i]n the beginning was the Word . . . " – and it is by speaking words (or expressing our experience through other media) that we can begin to reclaim our own power. But words are always "dirty" in the sense that they inevitably degrade or distort "reality" to some degree – though to what degree certainly matters.
Hello, hello, hello, how low? (3X)/ Hello, hello, hello! – The Nirvana instruments suggest a wooziness; we are so drugged – by what? – that we can barely stand. Hell to Earth, can you hear me? Is anyone paying attention? With the lights out it's less dangerous –Smith's intonation makes it sound like, we're wounded, but in the dark we can hide; Kurt's intonation makes it sound more like, it's dark, cool, we're less likely to get caught – only maybe he really feels more like Smith sounds, and the rest is anger or bravado.
Here we are now, entertain us –This lyric proclaims a key motif. Of course, Cobain probably had rock concerts in mind – the lights are lowered, the crowd demands to be entertained, those of us not inebriated feel stupid, the mob atmosphere is as contagious as it gets.
But I also I envision small groups of teens or others in dark rooms, absorbed in the most passive form of entertainment ever invented, TV. (Note that MTV was launched in 1981; for the 1991 premier of Michael Jackson's "Black or White" music video, the MTV audience was estimated at 500 million (Wikipedia).)
We all live in an ever more fully-saturated mass-media environment that continually urges us to consume and invites us to flee consciousness above all. Studies have shown how much TV has in common with both addiction and brainwashing – see here, here, and here. TV is unusual in that on the one hand, the brains of people watching it appear much more inert than usual, with their critical faculties turned almost completely off, while on the other hand, they are nonetheless uncritically absorbing the commercial and other messages being transmitted.
It's commercially-encouraged isolation, passivity, and inertia vs. the universal human need not just to consume meanings and products fabricated by others but also to connect with ourselves and other living beings, to experience for ourselves our own authentic desires in interaction with the real world, to find and express our own meanings, to create our own works, to procreate.
In the Smith/Cohen video, the cat, after pawing Smith's guitar case, now finally leads us to Smith, who is sprawled on the couch, one arm extended toward us, her hand hanging limply down. Although in both videos, the lead singer looks pretty much destroyed, Cobain at least had youth going for him; here, Smith comes across as someone thoroughly ground down by the years and who's now barely subsisting (of course, I don't for a moment think that's Smith's real situation, just that that's the impression given at this point in the video). Note that Cohen's lens and camera movement exaggerate the foreshortening, so that Smith's hand looms twice as large as her face. Cohen will continue to emphasize her and her son's hands, which, of course, they use to play their instruments.
I feel stupid and contagious – Certainly, ignorant. The corporate media as well as other authorities have acted to withhold or divert us from a great deal of information of critical importance in order for us to exert meaningful influence over our nation's conduct and our own welfare. It's become increasingly difficult just to find out what's really going on, while simultaneously more irresistible to give up and sink back into that chair in front of ever-larger, more perfectly engrossing TV screens.
And yet there always remains uncertainty about the degree to which any attempted manipulation has actually succeeded – a potentially excruciating torment to both sides of the teeter-totter, those who are manipulated and also those who seek to manipulate them. For our part, we teens or other consumers feel stupid, afraid, and angry because we're not even sure what we don't know, how we've been affected, or what we should be doing, thinking, or feeling differently; we didn't exactly choose subsistence as our fate.
Perhaps by this point in the Smith/Cohen production, we've noticed the beginnings of a gradual but steady increase in both the level of intensity and in the tempo of the music.
The music in the Nirvana video is despairing but by comparison to Smith's version, violently angry, unmistakably expressing youthful energy and testosterone. But despite the violent anger expressed in the Nirvana version, Cobain's lyrics are repressed, depressed, satirical, and intellectually allusive. When Cobain's voice kicks in, the music amps down and the energy at first seems dissipated or at least contained, only to crank back up again into violence. The intensity or force of the sound rises and falls cyclically throughout the course of the song, while the tempo of the music never changes but remains steady. Similarly, the video cuts in and out of slo-mo.
In contrast to Nirvana's cyclic intensity underlaid by a consistent tempo, in Smith's version, both the intensity and velocity start out low and slow but gradually and steadily increase. The video remains in slo-mo throughout, but the effect of increasing intensity and velocity is nonetheless reinforced by Cohen's selections of footage and editing. The instrumentation grows increasingly dense – the picking and strumming goes from a couple of wasps to hordes, the tempo gradually accelerates, and the urgency in Smith's voice will steadily build in force to equal, in its way, Cobain's.
It seems to me that there is also a generally, gradually increasing sense of light in Cohen's visuals.
On "contagious," Smith, looking like hell, turns her head to look, unarguably, directly at us – as if "looks could kill," reminding us there's the potential for contagion in even the briefest connection. She then turns to do something to her guitar; and one's music or art is, of course, one means of inspiring, inseminating others, or as some authorities might say, infecting them.
I can never do full justice to these works, but I have to stop and say, Cohen's filming and editing, among other things, are simply genius. Every shot seems both suitable and meaningful in connection with the lyrics and music at that point. Another aspect I love is how we'll be going along, seeing Smith apparently depleted or perhaps just deeply jaded – and then, in a perfectly edited flash, we glimpse some seemingly immortal fire in her eyes – or seem to see it die.
Here we are now, entertain usWe next see Smith from behind, standing, still grasping her guitar, silhouetted in her open front door and facing the world outside, a street filled with cars and people walking or just hanging out – the only time we see her in the same frame with the outside world; her door step is above street level, so she's elevated as if on a stage, but the public seems to ignore her.
A mulatto – an albino – A mosquito – my libido Yay –To me, all of these labels seem apt though ambivalent names for any of us, perhaps especially for any artist. Racial or cultural mongrels; freaks from whom all protective color has been blanched; insects sucking others' blood and injecting our viruses into them; an all but unstoppable drive to procreate.
Smith, still standing in the doorway, lifts her guitar with its stem upward, phallic.
We next see a board, leaning upright against a wall, shaped at the top like a very simple, round head with shoulders, with lines of Arabic writing crossing its width and spaced rather like the struts on the guitar stem that stands before it. I've made a few unsuccessful inquiries and would be interested in any information about what this object or its purpose are.
I'm worse at what I do best And for this gift I feel blessed –Perhaps the more obvious meaning here is that Cobain sees his or other young people's best creations as being those that authorities pan – i.e., he expects his works to be deemed "worse" because, like the paintings in the pre-Impressionist Salon des Refusés, they violate norms recognized by authorities as to what's "good."
Another possibility is that Cobain is referring to the creative process, its struggles and rewards. A useful analogy might be the story of the sea-god Proteus, who held the secrets Menelaus needed to learn in order for the Greeks to end their long wanderings after the Trojan War. Proteus had the power to assume the appearance of anyone or anything, including any of the monsters or sirens encountered by Odysseus. In order for Menelaus to gain the needed knowledge, he had to grip Proteus and not let go, no matter what horrific or seductive shape Proteus might assume.
Similarly, I believe artists struggle toward realities visible only from the edges of what's acceptable to the mainstream; they wrestle with appearances that both comprise and conceal the truth, that can and sometimes do assume any shape necessary in order to thwart the creation of truly inspired work: band-mates who fight with you; parents or others who teach you while filling you with prejudices, anxiety, and self-doubt; lovers who distract or dump you; commercial interests that seek to lure you toward ever-increasing consumption or bully you into working harder, longer; governments that betray you; your own mental or emotional stench; etc. Artists may feel overwhelmed by the challenge, that their best is much worse than it should be.
Yet Cobain characterizes this as a blessing: maybe it's only because of this struggle that at least some of our creations can be "best."
Our little group has always been –blessed, and worse at what they do best? The group could of course be Nirvana, and of course we might think of our own circles of friends. The group could be the one rotting together before a TV; the group could be our team, our gang, our political party, our nation, etc., with loyalty to the group seen as among the highest virtues.
Cf. the quotation from Margaret Mead, "[n]ever doubt that a small group of thoughtful, committed citizens can change the world. Indeed, it is the only thing that ever has." This is just what the neocons have done. It's something others can do, too.
And always will until the end. –Pick which end you think Cobain had in mind. Cohen's camera swirls above a Persian rug, with an effect at least slightly hallucinogenic.
Hello, hello, hello, how low? (4X) –Smith's hand grasps the neck of a guitar, passes it off to the hands of a younger man, her son, Jackson, who I gather to be close in age to that of Cobain when the Nirvana video was made. Cohen's visual here reads the "hello" as spoken by one generation to the next.
Note that in both videos, the hands on instrument necks rhyme visually and metaphorically with the janitor's hands on his mop pole. In the Nirvana video, this perhaps suggests a concern that the young musicians' efforts might be merely masturbatory rather than creative, that their efforts might not actually engender anything vital. Also, Teen Spirit was Nirvana's break-out song; prior to its release, the band was not nearly so widely known.
In contrast, we know Smith's already had a successful career and produced a son. Whatever the implications about the way she handles her instrument in Cohen's video, here we see her pass it to the son she helped create.
With the lights out it's less dangerous Here we are now, entertain us I feel stupid and contagious Here we are now, entertain us –In Cohen's video, we see the paired shadows of Jackson's shoulders and profiled head and the thin head of his banjo, gliding across a flat roof; the image is almost tender, as if what we watched were the silhouettes of two lovers. Then we see Jackson, facing us, playing, his whole shadow pointing toward us; but the young man's head is neatly cut off by the picture frame, perhaps suggesting that this could be any young man, or that the head of the banjo somehow stands in for the man's. I have to also ask whether Cohen might have intended a reference to the jacking-off janitor, also initially headless, who opened the Nirvana video; either way, the Smith/Cohen video seems to be developing a more procreative meaning or emphasis for the sexual motif.
A mulatto – an albino A mosquito – my libido –Cohen shows us a hand presenting in an oval frame the bleeding corazon: a bas-relief heart bound with encircling thorns, from the top of which spout flames and a cross. Like the video itself, it's an artwork framing dense reminders of prophets, crucifixions, and resurrections. This is just shy of the midpoint or heart of the video and might indicate a turning point.
Yay –In the Smith/Cohen version, we see now for the first time the whole young man at full-length from across the roof, strolling as he plays.
And I forget just why I taste Oh yeah, I guess it makes me smile I found it hard, it was hard to find –We and especially a frustrated teen may feel, what's the point of taste or appetite, if our desires are always manipulated and we're only allowed to express those that are prescribed for us? That these appetites include the sexual seems supported by "it makes me smile" and "I found it hard"; but of course other kinds of frustration or thwartings are also evoked.
Smith sings, and "I forget just what it takes." If it's true Smith was angry that Cobain "threw [his] life away," perhaps her alteration was deliberate. If so, that would seem to me at least slightly ironic, since I think Blake would have appreciated the original line – see Blake's illustration, I want! I want!, left. In my view, while we certainly should not act on every impulse, our genuine personal desires are important – I agree with my friend Carol Heideman's belief that it's part of the job of every creature on this planet somehow to express its true preferences.
Another example of Cohen's delicious editing is the apparent flickering-out he captures at ca. 3:11 – 3:13 min.
On "found it hard, hard to find," Cohen has us looking over stacks of CD's. To me, the idea here is that it takes effort generally to sort through to find the real thing, to find something genuinely worth wanting.
Oh well, whatever, nevermind –Nevermind of course being the title of the Nirvana album. Cobain's delivery suggests confusion or loss of focus; but such words can also evince a realization that the person spoken to isn't going to be able or willing to respond helpfully.
On "nevermind," Cohen's lens lands on Blake death's head again for the first time since early in the video, closer than ever before.
Hello, hello, hello, how low? –Smith's voice still sounds subdued, yet like a prelude to something more serious, more urgent and frightening, than what has come before. The hellos fade while the strumming becomes more urgent; we see a hand working hard on an instrument neck.
At around 3:40 min., Smith's left hand starts "flashing" in the air, five fingers extended outward, star-like. The music has continued picking up in tempo and complexity, but this first "flash" may be the point at which the accelerating pace and tension become obvious. Cohen then gives us a few frames of the sun flashing between the roof and a chimney, again timed perfectly so that the fingers of refracted light flash outward on the loudest beat, this time with ten fingers.
Cohen next cuts to rapidly passing scenery, while Smith's voice sings, softly but shaking, hello, hello, hello, as if almost out of control. While the video remains in slo-mo, the effect is as if things have sped up.
After the exceedingly urban location of the previous scenes, the switch to a more rural location registers distinctly. I don't think it's Appalachia, but there fly past us (seemingly shot from a car window) tangled trees and brush, a cheap, face-like two-story on an over-large lot, two small houses and a trailer, a granary; groves and forests, the sun again flashing through them as if in Morse code. The instruments are pounding, though still in a highly controlled way.
For some of us, these images and the "country" aspects of Smith's music might suggest a more primitive way of life; in this regard, they can perhaps be read as a reminder of how short the distance may be between where we thought we were and a much ruder existence, how fragile the accomplishments of civilization really are.
On the other hand, I think most of us recognize that the "primitive" can in fact be highly evolved and sophisticated. As my friend Larkin Tom pointed out, a shift to rural scenes can also be read as involving renewal or rejuvenation. I can't help thinking of how often Shakespeare's characters, having reached a crisis in their urban worlds, retreat to the woods or other settings remote from civilization where, sometimes with the assistance of magical forces, they manage to reinvent themselves and their relationships. The flashing of the light through the trees seems consistent with this interpretation.
With the lights out it's less dangerous Here we are now, entertain us I feel stupid and contagious –Cohen's visuals cut to Smith's right hand, which is positively glowing, caressing a slender vine or branch. She drops the vine to gesture in the air; her hand mimics almost perfectly – I wanted to say, that of God granting life to Adam on Michelangelo's ceiling in the Sistine Chapel, but that's not it; it's Adam's hand. And indeed it's true that our creations give life to us, as much as we give it to them. Here we are now, entertain us –We see Smith and her son, facing the camera, Smith looking still somewhat ravaged, but haloed with an almost infrared glow.
A mulatto – an albino A mosquito – my libido –Jackson lifts guitar and banjo up almost as if saying to us, it's your turn. Smith's almost laughing. Cohen cuts back to the scene in which she handed the banjo off to Jackson. Smith smiles up at her son.
A denial (9X) –On whose part? By the pacified, emasculated youth? – which is uncertain how it's reached its miserable state but knows something's not right, but can only begin to define itself differently by denying everything it's been taught about itself and the world? We’re not sure what we want, we don’t know who to blame or whether to blame ourselves, we don't know how to get out of this place; but we can still say “NO!” to everything about the way things are now.
But this denial has only been made necessary by the denial of those who have sought to manipulate us – isn't it because those with power and authority have denied too much of what we and perhaps they are and could be, have denied too much about the realities around us, that we now see no way to try to retrieve ourselves except to reject everything we've been taught? Both kinds of denial – our NO! and the NO! of those who seek to control us, are applicable (and they are perhaps in some sense similar).
At the end of the Nirvana video, the energy, which has risen and fallen cyclically throughout the song, explodes into Cobain's screams and the destruction of the set by rioting youth. As we learn from the I Ching (see Hexagram No. 29), our natures are like water, and while you can block them temporarily, they don't necessarily stop flowing. Eventually we will fill every cranny and either burst forth or simply overflow.
In contrast, the energy in the Smith/Cohen production can't be discounted as merely testosterone-driven (not that Nirvana's should be, either); we sense emotion but also maturity and determination behind the words now sung by Smith more clearly than ever, and we therefore are, or should be, more concerned than ever about the state of the world they evince. Yet meanwhile, as the Smith/Cohen video has progressed, the visuals have become somewhat more optimistic – Smith's hair has fluffed up, the light has become more pervasive, and kinder.
Cohen cuts back to scenery moving past us, but now we seem to be on a train approaching a city. We see what I take to be the NYC skyline, screened by wind-blown fronds. Again, a bird, this time a gull overhead.
We see Jackson on the roof, intently concentrated on his banjo playing. Cohen cuts to a man cradling Blake's death's head. Smith is not only keeping her own head, she's also keeping Blake's and working to pass both on to the next generation.
Smith's right hand, glowing, palm now upward. Blake's death's head again, now sunlit, apparently on Smith's stoop; the cat passes closely by on its way to the outside world.
Cobain screamed "a denial" nine times; Smith never sings it – just la la la la, then reverts to mosquito libido, implicitly expressing a denial of Cobain's denial, perhaps mainly of his ultimate denial, his suicide. While destruction can be a prelude to creation, the energy in the Smith/Cohen video never explodes; rather, it is channelled directly into creation – as, in fact, Cobain's own energies were, while he lived.
The Smith/Cohen version seems to me to suggest that, if we try hard enough to connect, create, and to pass the results on to our progeny together with whatever we salvage from our predecessors (Cobain, Blake et al.), there may be hope. As William Butler Yeats put it in "Lapis Lazuli," "[a]ll things fall and are built again,/ And those that build them again are gay"; or as Joseph P. Kennedy put it, "[w]hen the going gets tough, the tough get going."
Or as Cohen wrote, "[i]t is about picking up guitars and doing dirty dishes." It's a message we perhaps need to hear now more than ever.
This blog is triggered by my dissatisfaction with the critical response to-date to David Lynch’s Inland Empire.
Preconceptions are often indispensable. E.g., if we had to actually figure out everything we encounter, from moment to moment, from scratch, we’d be as overwhelmed and helpless as infants. Preconceptions enable us to get past first base; once we've constructed certain models and modes for coping, we can build on what we already "know."
That said, preconceptions can of course get in the way – they can be destructive or even deadly.
I mean destructive psychically as well as in physical ways. The way I want to discuss now has to do with how we understand good art and literature.
The critics generally seem to have agreed to call Inland Empire magnificent meaninglessness – don't even try to understand it, they say; you'll drive yourself mad.
To declare any human expression meaningless is a large and foolhardy claim. It's a lot different than just proposing some particular not-necessarily-exclusive interpretation. You are essentially claiming to have made an exhaustive study of all possible signs and modes of meaning and to have determined the entire production to be 100% meaning-free.
It's great to be willing to admire a work you don't purport to understand; but, pardon my critical cajones or whatever, it's even better to actually penetrate it.
And it's not so great if, even while praising the work, you call it meaningless rather than admit that maybe you just didn't get it. That does damage. Not only to your own credibility (not to mention your intellect and soul); it also harms others, who are discouraged from even trying to understand the work. (I sometimes wonder if some critics actually fear meaning. But I realize many work under ridiculous deadlines and other difficult conditions.)
This is important, because we NEED challenging art, because at its best it’s trying to HELP us, to lure us BEYOND preconceptions that may have become dangerous.
I read a review of MoMA’s Jeff Wall show recently. Now, I happen to think the critic who wrote it generally has good instincts. But s/he mentioned a photograph of Wall’s that I'd also seen in the flesh, The Storyteller, and I think the critic overlooked something important. The piece shows a clearing between a highway overpass and some woods, with some people scattered around, all seated on the ground. It pretty clearly refers to Edouard Manet's Le déjeuner sur l’herbe(Picnic on the Grass), as well as to pictorial art history in general.
What took a few minutes to sink in for me was that most of the people are sitting on mud. I mean, they’re in this at least semi-natural setting, so esp. if the Manet bell was rung for you, you expect them to be on the grass. But in fact, the surface area is divided evenly and very distinctly into thirds – reminiscent of the French flag, in fact. One third is light gray stone; one third is yellow-green grass; and one third is rough, dark mud, and that's where most everyone's sitting.
Certainly, if Wall had wanted to shoot people seated on grass, he could
have. Instead, he seems to have gone to some trouble to find or create
an area with this evenly divided surface and to put most of the people
on the mud. Once you notice it, it’s distinctly weird.
The critic reviewing Wall's show specifically mentioned "gazing" at the concrete, stone, and grass, but made no mention of the incongruous and arguably most notable part, the mud and the fact that most of the people on it.
Manet's piece was itself rather weird, thumbing its nose
at proper perspective and composition, with the entire scene tilted and objects and people weighted toward falling out of the lower left corner; and with characters dressed either not at all or too formally for their bucolic setting (all while seeming to gibe, we're having a little
free love here along with our free thinking; and you're doing what with your life, again?) While the
people in Wall's piece huddle on patches of surfaces
ill-suited to human needs – they and we seem reduced to mere nostalgia for the already-complicated relationship between humans and nature signalled in Manet's masterpiece. (And the maybe-homeless guy sitting by
himself on the stones under the bridge – possibly, partly a
stand-in for the artist [or his insecurities]?)
Could events in or relating to France around the time Wall’s piece was made also be relevant? Between 2003 and 2006, there were massive demonstrations in France against the Iraq war, high unemployment, and conservative-backed university and labor reforms (see here, here, here, here, and here). France's opposition to the Iraq invasion had even inspired the U.S. Congress to pass a law re-naming French fries, “Freedom Fries,” in the Congressional cafeteria. And then, there are certain parallels between French and U.S. histories, w.r.t. exploitation of colonial populations, or revolution against extractive oligarchies . . . .
I haven’t figured out what all Wall might have meant, but I'd bet he meant something, and the fact that his dejeuner is not on the grass seems to me to be crucial. (And could some thoughtful person among us supposedly visual folk please discuss the implications of the [to-my-knowledge-never-mentioned-though-I-admit-I-haven't-researched-it] power lines or whatever they are that bisect the visual plane like a whap-whap in the face?)
The critic apparently did not see the mud; instead, s/he saw what s/he expected, and lost an important opportunity to find out much more about what the work might be doing – and in the process, closed that door for most of her/his readers as well.
Absent an intense emotional association, we usually find it easiest to remember new data that we can relate to something we already "know." It takes an effort even to register, let alone understand, data that does not fit with our preconceptions.
As indispensable as preconceptions are to our functioning in the world at all, it is often at least as important that we make a sincere effort first and above all to simply observe what is actually there.
This is the main point of this post. You cannot “get” good art or literature, unless you first notice its actual features. Forget, at least temporarily, the urge to come up with a quotable quip; you're probably best off resisting interpretation altogether for as long as possible. Perhaps especially look for that which does not seem quite right – and assume that that's nonetheless what the artist intended, consciously or not.
(The fact is, most artists leave plenty of clues – like Wall's mud – in plain sight.)
Inland Empire: I agree this one’s a challenge, and I don't yet get it, at least not all of it. I’ve only seen it once (last nite), and I was tired, and I’ve only seen 2 other movies by Lynch, Eraserhead and Mulholland Drive. But I do not believe Inland is meaningless.
First, Lynch seems to be using at least some strategies similar to those he used in Mulholland. I worked out the “real” bits of Mulholland, based on (1) the fact that some scenes seemed completely convincing, while in others the acting and dialogue seemed shallower and more predictable, even clichéd; and (2) the odd scene in the center of the movie with the largely-ignored “director” – I forget exactly what transpired, but it tipped me off that he was in some way a stand-in for Lynch (or his insecurities).
The acting and lines in many of Inland's scenes are also totally over the top – e.g., the v. impt. scene in which the older Polish neighbor woman warns the Laura Dern “Nikki” about things being or seeming out of chronological order (a warning I think we should take seriously in attempting to understand this movie).
I also noticed red, phallic objects. Again, Lynch used a similar tactic in Mulholland – there was a “real,” blue key that was transformed in the young blonde's fantasies. In Inland, there's an overly long shot of an unduly red and phallic lamp. I started looking for more such objects, possibly a bit late in the game, but this morning remembered how the Polish husband shoots himself in the gut with the ketchup bottle. (I’m sure there are other instances; e.g., the black woman with the cigarette lighter – was the lighter red? was the screwdriver handle red?) [For this and other reasons, I suspect the more “real” levels in this film take place among the Polish characters. If I had to guess, I'd say one of the two main, Polish young women – either the one watching television or the one who greets her returning husband near the end – is Lynch's Ariel: the "real" person imagined by Lynch, who is central in that it's she who's imagining or experiencing everything else.]
Light is obviously important. Dramatic lighting throughout: weird, interesting lamps, the cigarette lighter, etc.; not to mention the discussion in the center of the movie between the Jeremy Irons “Director” (pretty clearly less real, although I’m sad to think that the Polish girl who I think is imagining these scenes has more insight into how Hollywood directors work than I do – I thought she did a darn good job – but I found Irons’ carefully-directed, "directorial" stubble and outfit, and his last scene with Dern, just implausible – although I suspect they may also be a semi-realistic depiction of the normal surreality of Hollywood) and the lighting guy who, if I heard correctly, completely inverted the “Director”’s direction and had to stop to take a crap (my boyfriend thought he sounded like Lynch — which makes me wonder if the movie may be constructed like a torus or donut, with this exchange between Irons and the lighting guy existing near the center as a connection between the movie's most and least "real" levels.)
(Also, why did Lynch take the trouble to blur out the faces of the woman and her companion in the opening scenes? This is one of the things that makes me think there might be something special about that particular woman – that she might be the author of everything else we see – but I'm really not sure; the important thing first is just to notice it.)
So, next, we also have rubbed in our faces: marketplace = Hollywood & Vine = hangout for whores looking for johns.
In the alley behind, we see scrawled, “Axxon N.” The only thing I’ve thought of so far for this is, an anagram for Anno XX (i.e., "year 20")? But apparently Axxon N. is a series to be released on Lynch's website, which is what he says he’s REALLY excited about these days (interview here). [But if anyone can think of something significant re- "year 20", I'd love to hear about it.] Another series to be released on his website is Rabbits, which I understand looks just like the rabbit-costumed segments in Inland.
Also, I can say from my experience analyzing other texts, titles are usually very important. Now, me, having created a small, virtual space empire of my own (i.e., c-cyte) comprising video, photography, digital art, essays, a miniature Shakespeare Festival, etc. – I’m not at all surprised to learn that Lynch is now doing more or less the same, only he'll make money on his.
Could the movie, Inland Empire, be, in part, a trailer for the conquest of virtual space that will be davidlynch.com?
And didn't I hear a reference in the movie to Dario Fo? Described by the online Britannica as "best known for his solo tour de force Mistero Buffo (1973; “Comic Mystery”), based on medieval mystery plays but so topical that the shows changed with each audience" (emphasis supplied).
To get any further, I’d need to see the movie again.
Of course, even if we figure out what's "really" happening in the movie, there's still the question of whether it all conveys any info that might actually be useful or helpful in any way – is there any "deeper meaning," and if so, what is it. E.g., Shakespeare's plays were clearly aimed partly at his royal audience and contain a wealth of valuable info about how to do a good job ruling, among other things. What does Lynch teach us?
I can't tell you that yet, but I'm convinced that there's not only a method but also a meaning to Lynch’s madness.
A few aspects I like but can't totally justify based strictly on observation of the movie are that, as I understand, Lynch has described the movie as being about a young woman in trouble, and I think there have been a lot of Eastern European young women in trouble lately; and politically, Poland has been an extremely interesting place for a while now: the setting for a velvet revolution against Soviet domination; but an "important" member of Bush's coalition in Iraq and a likely destination for CIA black ops renditions (see CIA Jails in Europe 'Confirmed').
I don't use any cookies or collect any personal info, but the blog platform may; and the platform owner, Google, told me I'm required to notify you as follows: "This site uses cookies from Google to deliver its services and analyze traffic. Your IP address and user-agent are shared with Google along with performance and security metrics to ensure quality of service, generate usage statistics, and to detect and address abuse."
For posts explaining why It's the Derivatives, Stupid (before Planet Money was talking about them), see hereand here; and if you'd like still more, click on the label at the bottom of one of those posts, "follow the money."
Note: I revise my posts. Revisions are made to add info or improve accuracy or allure. If you're interested in my not-best, the Wayback Machine may have preserved earlier versions, or you can e-mail me and I'll see what I've got. If you'd like to quote me, please check back for the most recent version.
You can see a larger version of most of the images on this blog by clicking on them.
"Panics do not destroy capital; they merely reveal the extent to which it has been previously destroyed by its betrayal into hopelessly unproductive works." – John Stuart Mill, before the Manchester Statistical Society, December 11, 1867, as quoted in "Financial Crises and Periods of Industrial and Commercial Depression," T.E. Burton (1902). ["Unproductive works": wars, credit derivatives, etc.]
"The most popular tulip species were scarce and demanded huge prices, peaking with the 'Semper Augustus', which was worth 5,000 Dutch Florins, the same price as a canal-side house in Amsterdam."
Re- this blog:
I mostly do this when I should probably be doing something else, so it's hit-and-miss. Please don't think anything of it if I don't cover your exhibition or issue.
I welcome corrections and comments but reserve the right not to publish those that threaten bodily harm, that consist mainly in name-calling or personal attacks, that dispute well-supported facts without offering credible substantiation, or that appear to be spam or designed to drive traffic to other URL's.
Coalition military deaths in Iraq since March, 2003: 4,766(as of April 22, 2011; click here to update). At least 467 contractors have also died, based on only partial information. Total U.S. military wounded as of as of January 14, 2010: 31,882.
Coalition military deaths in Afghanistan since October, 2001: 2,416 (as of April 22, 2011; click here to update.
Thoughts for the year or whatever, in no particular order:
What a huge debt this nation owes to its "troublemakers." From Thomas Paine to Martin Luther King, Jr., they have forced us to focus on problems we would prefer to downplay or ignore. Yet it is often only with hindsight that we can distinguish those troublemakers who brought us to our senses from those who were simply troublemakers. Prudence, and respect for the constitutional rights to free speech and free association, therefore dictate that the legal system cut all non-violent protesters a fair amount of slack. – Justice Sonia Sotomayor, writing for the Second Circuit Court of Appeals in Papineau v. Parmley, 465 F.3d 46 (2d Cir. 2006).
I can hire one-half of the working class to kill the other half. – Jason "Jay" Gould, per Philip Sheldon Foner, History of the Labor Movement in the United States Vol. 2: From the Founding of the A. F. of L. to the Emergence of American Imperialism, P. 51 (1998, 2d ed.).
On the one hand, information wants to be expensive, because it's so valuable. The right information in the right place just changes your life. On the other hand, information wants to be free, because the cost of getting it out is getting lower and lower all the time. – Stewart Brand to Steve Wozniak, at the first Hacker's Conference in 1984, per Roger Clarke.
A modern economic system demands mass production of students who are not educated and have been rendered incapable of thinking. – U.N.E.F. Strasbourg, On the Poverty of Student Life (1966).
A balance of power requires a balance of knowledge. – moi (pre- 2000).
. . . Napoleon . . . said that it wasn't necessary to completely suppress the news; it was sufficient to delay the news until it no longer mattered. – attributed by PRWatch to Martin A. Lee & Norman Solomon, Unreliable Sources: A Guide to Detecting Bias in News Media (New York: Lyle Stuart, 1991), p. xvii.
The infowar is the new class war; and information is the new wealth. – moi (2010).
Nothing is inevitable, except defeat for those who give up without a fight. – "Voyage to the Bottom of the Sea" (1961), script by Irwin Allen & Charles Bennett.
Why of course the people don't want war. Why should some poor slob on a farm want to risk his life in a war when the best he can get out of it is to come back to his farm in one piece? . . . But, after all, it is the leaders of the country who determine the policy and it is always a simple matter to drag the people along, whether it is a democracy, or a fascist dictatorship, or a parliament, or a communist dictatorship. . . . All you have to do is tell them they are being attacked, and denounce the peacemakers for lack of patriotism and exposing the country to danger. – Hermann Goering, per Nuremberg Diary (Farrar, Straus & Co 1947), by Gustave Gilbert
The war is not meant to be won. It is meant to be continuous. – George Orwell, 1984.
Civil disobedience is not our problem. Our problem is civil obedience. Our problem is that people all over the world have obeyed the dictates of leaders . . . . and millions have been killed because of this obedience . . . . – Howard Zinn, Failure to Quit (South End Press, 2002; originally published 1993).
Every time we witness an injustice and do not act, we train our character to be passive in its presence and thereby eventually lose all ability to defend ourselves and those we love. – Julian Assange, IQ.ORG, "Witnessing," Wed 03 Jan 2007.
I used to be concerned about this mass audience thing . . . not anymore. There are overlapping circles of activity and . . . . It doesn't matter what the volume is . . . These circles are not sealed off from each other, they affect each other. – Yvonne Rainer, in an interview by Lyn Blumenthal for "Women with a Past," Program Six from the series, What Does She Want (VHS 1987, Video Data Bank).
'Beauty is truth, truth beauty,—that is all Ye know on earth, and all ye need to know.' – John Keats, "Ode on a Grecian Urn" (1919).
In framing a government which is to be administered by men over men, the great difficulty lies in this: you must first enable the government to control the governed; and in the next place oblige it to control itself. – James Madison, Independent Journal, Wednesday, February 6, 1788, The Federalist.
[W]e forgot that the question is NOT, how do we get good people into power. The question is, how do we limit the damage the powerful can do to us? – Chris Hedges, "The Failure of the Liberal Class in the United States," address to the Poverty Scholars Program, April 10, 2010.
They always say time changes things, but you actually have to change them yourself. – Andy Warhol, The Philosophy of Andy Warhol (1977).
In all history, there is no instance of a country having benefited from prolonged warfare. – Sun Tzu, The Art of War, ca. 500 B.C.
The opposite of good is not evil; it's apathy. – Cindy Sheehan in her speech to the Veterans for Peace on August 5, 2005, just before she began her first vigil outside of Pres. G.W. Bush's ranch in Crawford, TX; see vimeo; see also HuffPo.
One sits and beats an old tin can, lard pail. One beats and beats for that which one believes. That's what one wants to get near. Could it after all Be merely oneself, as superior as the ear To a crow's voice? – Wallace Stevens, The Man on the Dump(1923). It's class warfare, [and] my class is winning, but they shouldn't be. – Warren Buffet, CNN Interview, May 25 2005, suggesting we need to raise taxes on the rich. The past is never dead. It's not even past. – William Faulkner, Requiem for a Nun, Act I, scene iii (1951). Cui bono (To whose benefit)? – attributed by Marcus Tullius Ciceroto Lucius Cassius Longina Ravilla, ca. 125 B.C.
When plunder becomes a way of life for a group of men in a society, over the course of time they create for themselves a legal system that authorizes it and a moral code that glorifies it .– Frédéric Bastiat, Economic Sophisms, 2nd series (1848), Ch. 1 "Physiology of Plunder."
The higher the buildings, the lower the morals. – Noel Coward (1899-1973) (numerous sites attribute this to Coward, but I've found none that provides a more precise citation).
He who controls the present, controls the past. He who controls the past, controls the future. – George Orwell, 1984 (1949).
[Y]ou always have to ask yourself: Why do I get this specific information, in this specific form, at this specific moment? Ultimately, these are always questions about power. – Dr. Konrad Hummler, Swiss banking and media executive, interview 2011-07-11 retrieved 2021-08-15 from NZZ.
Only puny secrets need protection. Big discoveries are protected by public incredulity. – attributed to Marshall McLuhan, http://www.marshallmcluhan.com/poster.html. "Catch-22 says they have a right to do anything we can't stop them from doing."
– Joseph Heller, Catch 22, Ch. 39, P. 407 (Simon & Schuster, 50th Anniversary Ed., 2011).
They'd rather some people die for your mistake, than that they lived, but that they lacked a leader.
It was too late to prevent the great Fall, but it was still possible, at least, to cut short the intermediate period of chaos. – Isaac Asimov, Second Foundation, P. 87 (ed. Bantam June, 2004; first published 1953). You can fool all the people some of the time and some of the people all the time, but you cannot fool all the people all the time. – Abraham Lincoln (1805-1865). My heart rouses thinking to bring you news of something that concerns you and concerns many men. Look at what passes for the new. You will not find it there but in despised poems. It is difficult to get the news from poems yet men die miserably every day for lack of what is found there. – William Carlos Williams, "Asphodel, That Greeny Flower" (1883-1963) (I don't own this and find no online source that mentions where it was published; pls help if you can). All that is necessary for evil to triumph is for good men to do nothing. – Edmund Burke (1729-1797; see link re- variants and possible misattribution).
I consider it completely unimportant who . . . will vote, or how; but what is extraordinarily important is this: who will count the votes, and how. – Joseph Stalin (1878-1953), per the Memoirs of Stalin's Secretary.
First they ignore you. Then they laugh at you. Then they fight you. Then you win.
HECATE: And you all know, security Is mortals' chiefest enemy. – W. Shakespeare, Macbeth(ca. 1606), Act II, scene v, MIT's Moby Ed.
Power concedes nothing without a demand. It never did and it never will. – Frederick Douglass, "West India Emancipation" speech, Aug. 3, 1857.
Never doubt that a small group of thoughtful, committed citizens can change the world. Indeed, it is the only thing that ever has. – Margaret Mead
The revolution is not an apple that falls when it is ripe. You have to make it fall. – Che Guevara, Intercontinental Press (Vol. 3 January - April 1965); also in Che Guevara speaks: Selected Speeches and Writings (1967). The United States is the only nation in history to go from barbarism to decadence without any civilization in between. – Norman O. Brown, Closing Time (described as a graffito in Paris, May 1968; p. 29, ed. Vintage Books, 1974).
Ring the bells that still can ring. Forget your perfect offering. There is a crack in everything; That's how the light gets in.
– Leonard Cohen, "Anthem" (1997?)
Let's do something, while we have the chance! It's not every day that we are needed. . . . Let us make the most of it before it is too late! – Samuel Beckett, Waiting for Godot (1949).
If, one day, a people desires to live, then fate will answer their call. And their night will then begin to fade, and their chains break and fall. For he who is not embraced by a passion for life will dissipate into thin air,
* * * * * Then it was earth I questioned: "Mother, do you hate mankind?" And Earth responded: "I bless ambitious and aspiring souls, Who do not flinch at danger. I condemn those out of step with time, People content to live like stone." – "If the People Wanted Life One Day," Abou-Al-kacem El-chebbi (also spelled other ways, such as Abu Al-Qasim Ash-Shabi), known as the "poet of the Tunisian Revolution." Hatred never ceases by hatred; But by love alone is healed. This is an ancient and eternal law. -- "Dhammapada," Ch. 1, theTwin Verses5, as quoted by Maha Ghosananda.
There is no responsibility, without freedom; No freedom, without power; No power, without knowledge; No knowledge, without love.
– moi (1976).
A map of the world that does not include Utopia is not worth even glancing at, for it leaves out the one country at which Humanity is always landing. And when Humanity lands there, it looks out, and, seeing a better country, sets sail. Progress is the realisation of Utopias. – Oscar Wilde, Collected Works of Oscar Wilde: The Plays, the Poems, the Stories and the Essays Including De Profundis, p. 1051 (Wordsworth Edition, 1997).
. . . and in the morn I'll bring you to your ship and so to Naples, Where I have hope to see the nuptial Of these our dear-beloved solemnized; And thence retire me to my Milan, where Every third thought shall be my grave. – W. Shakespeare, The Tempest (ca. 1611), Act V, scene i, MIT's Moby Ed.
This exhibition of works by DFW-area MFA candidates took place in an interesting old warehouse property at 500 Singleton in Dallas during the weekend of the "Bridge-O-Rama" Peggy Hill Bridge celebrations. The show was organized by Stephen Lapthisophon; more details at the FaceBook page for the event or at its website, 500WEST.
I also enjoyed the piece that starts here (in the first photo, the actual piece starts to the right of the white door) – I appreciated the combination of references to the art of meditation and the ultra-orderly science of math, and the chaos and aesthetic appeal of deterioration and trash; and I especially liked the way the audio both surprised me and drew me around the far edge into a dark corner with small light sources and more, not-fully-visible detritus – with an implication that maybe this nook was the most important part of the installation; yet you weren't sure what if anything much were there. (UPDATE: I've been informed by Ali Starr that this piece was by Matt Heller – thanks!)
.jpg)
.jpg)
.jpg)
.jpg)
