Reviewing the Already Reviewed

I generally don't like to write about what has already been written, especially when it's to the point of exhaustion. However, I'll turn some attention to a couple must-see things I've recently witnessed and do my best to maneuver some new content between the lines.

In order of appearance, I finally went to the Kara Walker show at The Whitney this past weekend (picture from The New York Times).
While aware of Walker's work for years, this was actually the first time I've seen those graphic large scale paper cut-outs. They are rich visually, in content, in being able to disturb, and in having a cartoon whimsy. Walker is fixated on racism in America and she's managed on crafting something which is both beautiful and ugly (at least in her best work). Some of her paintings and drawings serve more as an ugly function and while they don't offer as much of a gut-hitting experience, they do show an artist full of creative discontent. Racism is alive, and Kara Walker isn't afraid to take that difficult fact and kick you in the teeth with it.

Next Up: There Will Be Blood

I wasn't sure what to expect when I finally got to see this picture. Yes, the trailers looked promising and I had been a follower of Paul Thomas Anderson's other work (though not an avid one). Attempts to see the movie the first week of its release was a frustrating experience. It had gotten its Golden Globe nominations while it was playing in just one theater in New York City. It struck me as a poor way to circulate a film, but I digress.

Those packed theaters were completely warranted. In what has been a year of some fantastic movies, this was an excellent way to end the year (or begin this new one). The story, obviously, has its connection between blood and oil. One will kill to protect such a thing and one will overlook his own blood (as in son) to acquire every last drop of it. It's in the character of Daniel Plainview that this story digs into dark territory. Plainview, a much more complicated character than I've seen played out in years, is a mix of Travis Bickle and Charles Foster Kane. Despite being crude and having very few opportunities handed to him, Plainview is full of cunning. This, and his awareness of the human condition, only makes him want to destroy and exploit all of those around him. Somehow, despite his chilling deeds, we also see someone that is still enjoyable. Plainview isn't completely without compassion, he just lacks any when he needs it most. Sprinkle in a few slimy characters and God and I found myself at one of the best American movies I've ever seen. Please go and buy a ticket for it now.

The Brigade of Brooklyn

To greet me at my L-train stop was an usual parade seen above. There was a brigade of children marching to the orders of a drill Sargent, each of them carrying a different flag. I found this fascinating as well as frightening and, judging by the gawking audience of hipsters or artsy youths, they were thinking what I was thinking. Pacing back and forth, I wasn't sure what to do or what to make of it. Granted, I could be quite ignorant about the whole thing since I couldn't read the Spanish on the banner in front of them, but this wasn't the only authoritative group. Ahead of this under-developed camouflaged battalion was a group of mounted police officers, behind it was a line of veterans. After a moment's consideration, I hurried alongside the parade and tried to get home as quickly as possible. It was only after a block I noticed a new entry in these unusual festivities.

An older man was spotted skipping along with a stroller. His appearance was a rainbow of colors and his stroller contained a dog which matched his personality. I had seen this character a couple of times before around Herald Square, but never gave him the proper credit he deserves. In this setting he was a savior; a reminder to all the other stiff faces that life doesn't have to be so contained by discipline and order. He was a different force in a sea of the same. It was his intent to tear down this parade with a smile and a prance. With all the people who grinned at his presence, I think he proved his point. The police in front of him did nothing.

Living as an Artist in the Empire.

It must have been a slow news day today...

On my routine trip to work this morning I got a sight at a few surprising words on the cover of AM New York. The title read "Starving For Artists: Pricey city forcing out creative talent". For such a superficial and widely circulated paper, it was unusual to see (what I would deem) such a marginal concern for this city.

While the article was very short, as in no more space for content than they made for the picture on the front page, it did lend some interesting facts about artists' economic contribution ($21.1 billion) as well as taxes, wages, accelerating costs of rent, etc. Even though there is this small monetary contribution from artists, the article states that an artist's main gift to his residence is "relevant culture". Without creative types, New York will be "dramatically less interesting".

I can't argue with the stance made by the writer, David Freelander. So why did I say this was a marginal concern for this city? The answer is, "too little, too late" Over a decade ago artists were getting pushed out of Manhattan proper. Since they settled in areas like Williamsburg, they were still close enough to the skyscrapers of Manhattan to not feel too far away from their old homes. However, over the years, developers naturally went where artists went. New York artists were like an Urban Bedouin tribe. It's unfortunately just gotten to the point of being ridiculous.

As I've been looking to other cities to call home and get a more-friendly arts atmosphere, I don't view this metropolitan exodus with the same fright as the paper does. Freelander is writing as a cultural representative of the city, where I and most artists just feel like self contained representatives of ourselves. Our identities are not fixed to any single geography, at least not like they were in Montmartre when Apollinaire was alive. Where ever we go, there we are.

This could be an amazing thing for the American landscape. Creative folks from big cities are moving to small areas which may not get often that kind of exposure. New communities can form and grow which were previously stunted by financial oppression. In a world seemingly spinning out of control, perhaps the most positive thing I see in the future is this expansive geographic network of artists. Creative types no longer see city life as the end-all-be-all of cultural growth and stabilization.