ACFWLF

nakadate_finch.jpg
The soft, supple opening to Charlie Finch’s latest column on Artnet:

We first met Laurel Nakadate in 2001, right after she received her MFA from Yale. While in New Haven, Laurel lived in a single-room occupancy apartment house full of lonely, homely, aging single men whom she proceeded to bait and cocktease mercilessly in her video work.

By “we,” I think he means “me and my lonely, homely, single hand.”
Critic, art world svengali, and breast man Charlie Finch sticks his own hand into “perky, dewy” video artist Laurel Nakadate’s career, apparently without realizing that he’s already soaking in it.
If someday she comes out and says her work is about a young artist who graduates from Gregory Crewdson’s Yale and tries to get ahead in the art world, I will die laughing. And give her the Turner Prize.
Nakadate’s show is up at the otherwise redoubtable Danziger Projects through May 14.
Danger is Her Game [charlie finch on artnet]

Daddy, Tell Me A Back Story

The problem is that Penn can’t play just any agent trying to do his job. He has to have his own traumatic back story and overflowing well of grief over a dead wife, because what’s a Penn performance these days without the actor emoting in close-up for a camera frozen in awe? (You can practically hear the director say, “And now, ladies and gentleman, the stylings of the premier actor of his generation.”)

After all, [Kidman] has a back story of her own…

In the true spirit of diplomacy, Edelstein lets both the director and the writers have it in his Slate review of The Interpreter.
Lost in Translation [slate]

Ada Louise Huxtable: The WTC Horse Is Out Of The Barn

No honest questioning of the Silverstein/Port Authority 10mm sf program. No more Libeskind master plan. No political backbone or redevelopment vision. No appreciation for the arts as anything but a criticism-placating bullet point on a mission statement. No program apparently required for this amorphous-at-best Freedom Center museum thing, which is going ahead full force anyway. And now no fundraising for no performing arts center, which was originally pitched as a central requirement for the site’s viable rebirth.
Ada Louise Huxtable’s pissed, and–if she thought it’d help–she wouldn’t take it anymore.
Death of a Dream: There won’t be a creative rebirth at Ground Zero after all. [wsj, via curbed]

From The Two Ends Of The Online Viewing Spectrum

86theonions_nec.jpgNever the innovator, apparently, NEC commissioned a series of sponsored short films which debuted last fall. The theme(s)? “Ubiquitous” and “U Can Change.” Let me just say, that slogan’s no “Art of Speed.” I guess they think it works alright in Japanese.
Anyway, Venice, CA punk agency 86 the Onions produced a batch, which look to me like Western parodies of nonsensical Japanese commercials. “Cocoon” or “Karaoke” are probably the best, although the latter’s too long. My favorite is “Wedding”; it’s got a smart surprise ending. [Reading the making of story at adland, no one’ll be surprised to learn they came up with the ideas in 24 hours, and shot them in like a week. I hope they got paid a fortune.]
Meanwhile, the trailer’s online for Lars von Trier’s Manderlay. Hmm? Something about slavery? Whatever, it’s a shoe-in for La Palme d’Feelgood at Cannes.

adland: 86 the onions make ubiquitous campaign for NEC Japan
[ad-rag.com]
Shorts for NEC Ubiquitous, by 86 the Onions
Lars von Trier’s Manderlay [play.dk, via robotwisdom]

Stack Of Unposted Posts Celebrates 3-Day Anniversary

I’ve been crunching on an offline deadline, and I’ve barely even read these, much less thought and posted about them:

  • How to Make a Movie About 9/11? Carefully: Unfortunately, careful isn’t usually the stuff of great Hollywood drama, but of compromised, templated biopics. As for “the most basic creative dilemma” being whether to show the planes hitting the towers, this footage, this imagery was arbitrarily sacralized so quickly, this taboo theology has accreted on it. The media equivalent of The Footprints, it’s an unsuitable vessel for the emotions and memories and eventual understanding of September 11th.
    On the other hand, The Great New Wonderful, directed by Danny Leiner, sounds promising. It’s set well after the Sept. 11th attacks, which is far more interesting, uncharted (in film) emotional territory. Plus, he did Harold and Kumar Go to White Castle.

  • Hollywood Welcomes New Crop of Moguls: Always on the lookout for a crop of new somethings, Sharon Waxman finds people who are trying to make small fortunes in the film business using their big fortunes from elsewhere. A business model after my own heart. Now, if I only owned the Mavericks…
  • question: is the URL in the first story intentionally 20atta.html? Because the URL in the second is 19rich.html. Just asking….
  • Walker Art Center Production Blog

    wac_hdem_sidewalk.jpg, totally cribbed from walkerart.orgSo the Walker Art Center reopened last week in Minneapolis, and the reviews I’ve seen are great.
    Did you know they had what amounts to a production blog for the completion of the new Herzog & deMeuron addition? Titled “New Media Initiatives,” there are entries about architectural minutiae like sandblasting H&deM patterns on the new sidewalk, testing semi-reflective films for the projected signage, and kiosks. Lots of kiosks. Solid, geeky museum stuff. There’s also an education-related blog.
    New media initiatives [blogs.walkerart.org, via man]

    Memo To Chavez: Don’t Let Terry Gilliam Direct

    Venezuelan president (who’s working on the “for-life” part)Hugo Chavez is distributing 1 million free copies of Don Quixote to his countrymen as part of a nationwide literacy campaign based on a Cuban model.
    According to the BBC, Chavez called for his pueblos to, “feed ourselves once again with that spirit of a fighter who went out to undo injustices and fix the world.” And who was bat-guano crazy. Good luck with that.

    Venezuela celebrates Quixote book
    [BBC via robotwisdom]

    By Their Fruits Ye Shall Now Them

    While the Republican Sanhedrin was proclaiming their own–and Tom DeLay’s–righteousness on the Sunday morning political talk shows, I spotted Harry Reid, Senate leader of what Bill Frist calls the “anti-faith” movement–at church.
    They probably have to look up the address: Get Tom DeLay To The Church [frank rich, nyt]

    Smells Like Cine Spirit

    Gus Van Sant’s new film, Last Days, is a fictional recreation of the impending death of Kurt Cobain, shot in the director’s now-mature semi-documentary style.
    The trailer’s up; Last Days opens May 16 in France, timed, presumably, with its debut at Cannes. Don’t feel bad that France gets to see it long before the US, though. After all, Gerry didn’t come out in France until after Elephant.
    Last Days trailer [allocine.fr, via mefi]
    a fluffy Cobainiac take on the movie [mtv.com]

    Les Parapluies de Staten Island

    Since all the pros are weighing in on it, let me say that Laura Shin’s umbrella review in Slate is wack. What purports to be a The New York Review of Umbrellas’s ignores some key aspects of New York City’s indigenous umbrella culture, and in ways that make me think it’s unconsciously geared to visitors, not residents, of the city.
    This daytripper’s bias manifests itself in the criteria: saying smaller=better makes no more sense for umbrellas than bigger=better does for SUV’s. Unless you’re planning on carrying it folded up much of the time because, like the folks you see uptown with Century 21 bags, you don’t have an apartment or an office to stash stuff in.
    Also, even in these Friends-friendly days, “plays well with others” is not a trait held in high esteem on New York City streets, especially not for umbrellas. For a lot of highly self-interested New Yorkers, bigger is better, even if it’s not, and getting your eye poked out is your problem, mac. [Note to Malcolm Gladwell: got another SUV story for you.]
    Sure, there’s the Chinatown umbrella, but Manhattan’s other indigenous species–the Doorman Umbrella–is completely ignored. Maybe the writer lives in a walkup. These black giants are the Lincoln Town Car of umbrellas, more than you really need to do the job, and better if you have someone else doing it for you.
    Lately there’s been a proliferation of Patented Umbrellas, which have those collapsible drinking cup-like sheaths on the tip. This is wrong. Convenient, surely, but wrong.
    The Hotel Umbrella is an increasingly rare breed. These usually logo’ed Doormen Umbrellas are briefly loaned to guests at better hotels. [They’re getting rarer because some new better hotels now prefer to sell their guests an umbrella.] Someone once took my large black umbrella from the bucket at a shop, and left me with a nearly identical model courtesy of The Carlyle Hotel. Thanks.
    The Firm Umbrella, the Golf Umbrella, and the Firm Golf Umbrella are usually seen in midtown, and truth be told, they’re probably being carried by some banker who moved to Rye when his second kid was born. In addition to being selfishly large for the street, these usually have the added benefit of being free (or at least it felt that way when you signed for it at the pro shop).
    I recently lost my favorite umbrella, which had served me well for over six years. At the height of Niketown-hatin’ 1998, and figuring that they’d probably invest a lot in the R&D, I bought a big black Nike Golf umbrella. Yes, it had swooshes on it, but it was a small price to pay; the thing was light, strong, huge, and it never once blew out on me.
    When someone stole it from a pizza restaurant a few months ago, I tried to replace it, but they sure don’t make’em like they used to. I ventured back into Niketown (what a dump), nothin’. The $15 model at the outlet you pass on 95 in Maryland was engineered to protect Nike’s margins, not my (or anyone else’s) head.
    I know return you to your regularly scheduled programming.
    Un-brellas [slate, via kottke and TMN]

    Marc Forster at MoMA: A Word Association Game

    Typing the first thing that comes into my mind:
    Isabella Rossellini: [gulp] hi
    Ryan Gosling: unexpectedly wry
    David Benioff: composed (but watch out, the dude killed off Agamemnon)
    Will Ferrell’s brother: his biggest fan, (but with the unenviable job of being nice to his richer, little brother for life)
    Maggie Gyllenhaal: good sport, Harvard Law material
    Maggie Lyko: one of the greatest women in America, who happens to have left for Mexico.
    Marc Forster: Sick. [flu-sick, not gross-sick. Both he and Ferrell are getting Theraflu-high on stage]
    Meeting Marc Forster: genial. [nice, easy-going, surprisingly not wearing clogs. Says, “I know,” when I introduce myself. Politely doesn’t mention the restraining order.]
    My oblique Monster’s Ball oral sex scene reference in my speech: too oblique. Only Forster and the writer get it. Embarassingly, only Forster says it was funny.
    Jamie Niven’s inadvertent and unacknowledged oral sex sight gag when the tech guy got down on his knees behind the podium to fix the mic during his speech: hi-larious, that man is grace under pressure personified.
    Sean Combs: left the P. Diddy at home.
    Best description of Everything Comes Together: The Dead Baby Movie.
    Will Ferrell: makes even repressed movies about dead babies, racist executioners, and manipulative closet cases funny.
    MoMA atrium: nice place, whaddya pay?
    Mini cheeseburger hors d’oeuvres: Get back here!
    Bresaola hors d’oeuvres: pre-touched meat
    Champagne with straws: generously provided
    Diet Coke at the pre-event champagne-only reception: cruelly absent

    To Do: White Columns Benefit Auction, 4/16

    There’s a lot of goodlooking work that’s been donated to White Columns’ 2005 benefit auction: nice pieces by Verne Dawson, Peter Doig, Rachel Harrison, a pointless-but-nice T-shirt by Payne/Relph, a wheel-thrown ceramic pushpin by Mungo Thompson.
    Silent and online bidding is on right now, and some lots will end with a live auction on the night of the 16th.
    White Columns 2005 benefit auction

    That Che Image And The Guy Who Made It

    fitzpatrick_che.jpgFor an exhibition in Dublin, Dutch artist Aleksandra Mir interviews Jim Fitzpatrick, the Irish artist who created the stencil-like poster of Che Guevara. It’s a fascinating story of copyright, revolution, and appropriation, told by someone who’s been largely invisible, even though he made one of the most widely known–and widely copied–images of the last 50 years.
    Some interesting tidbits:
    – Fitzpatrick originally made 1,000 two-color posters, with the stars hand-colored yellow.
    – Several hand-printed early variations–and one painting–made for an exhibition went missing somewhere in Eastern Europe.
    – Che was Irish. Irish Argentinean.
    – After cutting off negotiations with Fitzpatrick, A US company, Fashion Victim, bought the rights to the underlying picture from the photographer’s heirs and now enforces a trademark–while producing Che clothing in Honduran sweatshops.
    – There was an Amsterdam rebel group called ‘The Provos.’
    Not everything is always Black or White. [aleksandramir.info]
    Jim Fitzpatrick’s website

    Be It Resolved by the Legislature of the State of Idaho:

    “12 WHEREAS, the Preston High School administration and staff, particularly
    13 the cafeteria staff, have enjoyed notoriety and worldwide attention; and
    14 WHEREAS, tater tots figure prominently in this film thus promoting Idaho’s
    15 most famous export; and
    16 WHEREAS, the friendship between Napoleon and Pedro has furthered
    17 multiethnic relationships;”

    It passed unanimously, btw.
    HOUSE CONCURRENT RESOLUTION NO. 29 [state.id.us, via waxy]
    previously: Napoleon Dynamite: Oh. My. Heck.