Showing posts with label Things to go to. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Things to go to. Show all posts

Monday, March 30, 2009

JENNY HOLZER: Protect, Protect

In a moment of blind luck, I was invited to preview Jenny Holzer's largest retrospective in fifteen years, "Protect Protect" at the Whitney last week. Running til May 31st, the show is immaculately curated, a winding journey favoring a lot of Holzer's more contemporary works and then ending in a darkened room with her trademarked neon flashing messages.

A brief glimpse of Jenny Holzer: She gained recognition in the 70s with her "Truisims" which were a type of "Escatological Laundry List" that she posted everywhere. She began to project onto buildings, using phrases and sentences that were aggressive, usually dealing with war or sex. Dark, critical and deliciously masochistic, her work then continued with "Lustmorde," which was a depiction of rape from the view of the perpetrator, victim and viewer. Today she is working on "Redactions," which takes "unclassified" documents detailing the Iraq war detainee treatments and quite literally blows them up to be examined.

Because her work is unapologetic and inflammatory, there is something adolescent in a lot of what she does - magnifying words or difficult speech and then making the viewer swallow the often painful imagery. One of the suits from the Whitney was explaining, almost apologetically, that "with Jenny Holzer, its not just the words that she is depicting, but the actual visualization of the words." While it is true that the flashing marquees and neon lights are fairly beautiful, I totally disagree: It IS the words that are so moving. Simple, unhinged language being ignited like a billboard is incredibly and irresistably powerful. A lot of her work challenges the viewer as being passive - by reading this you are passively accepting the world - but then encourages a different course - RUIN YOURSELF BEFORE THEY RUIN YOU. This dichotomy, this tension, is what draws me to her work. She is both the accuser and the accomplice.





It takes a while before you can step over intert bodies and go ahead with what you were trying to do.

Some days you wake and immediately start to worry. Nothing in particular is wrong it's just the suspicion that forces are aligning quietly and there will be trouble.



Some Redactions.



A confession from a soldier admitting to killing a child. The hand written note and the fact that it was on a wall by itself was simply impactful.




The physical presence of the confessions.



Jenny giving us a tour.



Massive handprints of torture victims.



Some of her neon structures.





Lustmorde. This is my favorite of her works. She took human bones and bound them with metal that was engraved with her work. The statements themselves are nauseating and powerful. I was physically shaking at the pure physicality of her imagery. You can see more here.

I feel who you are, and it does me no good at all.


The simplicity of her language and presentation is so vehement.

May 31st at the Whitney.

Monday, January 12, 2009

The Shipment

My amazing and hyper-talented roommate and friend Georgia X. Lifsher is involved in a very exciting project. Having linked up with Asian inciter Young Jean Lee, she assistant directed Young Jean (who also dates musician Mike Doughty)'s newest production, The Shipment.

I went to go see this at a preview this past Saturday, and, like most people my age, a two hour play on "race/identity politics" is not my idea of a relaxing Saturday afternoon. But The Shipment was refreshing, hilarious and poignant. There was a beautiful song, a semi-offensive/tedious/hilarious stand up comic and a short play with a twist that I didn't see coming.

And today Georgia comes home with the New York Times. It appears that The Shipment got one hell of a write-up, and I'd love to share it with you here:

Cultural images of black America are tweaked, pulled and twisted like Silly Putty in “The Shipment,” a subversive, seriously funny new theater piece by the adventurous playwright Young Jean Lee at the Kitchen.


Sara Krulwich/The New York Times

Amelia Workman, left, and Okieriete Onodowan in "The Shipment."

Sara Krulwich/The New York Times

Prentice Onayemi in "The Shipment."

Ms. Lee, who is Korean-American, consciously set herself the uncomfortable task of creating what she calls a “black identity-politics show,” having explored and lampooned the culture of Christian churches and Asian-Americans in her previous works “Church” and “Songs of the Dragons Flying to Heaven.” (Clearly she likes a challenge.) Combing through the images of African-Americans that dominate the media, Ms. Lee wields sharp, offbeat humor to point up the clichés, distortions and absurdities, turning the wearily familiar — a foul-mouthed stand-up comic, a drug dealer, a would-be rapper — into loopy, arch cartoons.

Please don’t let the social-studies tag “identity-politics” put you off; “The Shipment,” performed by a diversely talented cast of five black actors, will bore or offend only the humorless. Ms. Lee’s method is not to wag a finger but to wink and smile, trusting that you’ll register the point after you’ve had a good laugh.

The show is provocative but never polemical, and it is pleasingly eclectic. There’s a little song and a little dance; straight-up comedy; sketches; and a short, essentially naturalistic play. But even in the lighter moments, Ms. Lee, who also directed the show, does not shy away from prodding the audience’s racial sensitivities — or insensitivities — in a style that is sometimes sly and subtle, sometimes as blunt as a poke in the eye.

Eye-poking comes first, after a brief, antic dance sets the playful tone. Douglas Scott Streater strides onstage in the guise of an abrasive, trash-mouthed comedian. The monologue he performs, full of blush-making sex jokes (including a pro-incest riff) and scatological reveries (he complains that he’d rather tell bathroom jokes than work over the black-white thing again), pays affectionate tribute to the transgressive spirit of great black comics, from Richard Pryor to Dave Chappelle.

Some of the stinging observations could easily have been pulled from a routine on “Original Kings of Comedy” on HBO. Annoyed by white people’s annoyance when black people point out they’ve experienced racial discrimination or oppression, Mr. Streater parodies their own fondness for complaint.

“You ever heard a white person whine?” he asks, then switches from street voice to the sound of a crisply enunciating nerd. “ ‘I don’t know what I’m doing with my life.’ ‘I hate feeling fat all the time.’ ”

But the heightened abrasiveness and the lurches into absurdity intimate that the posture of the angry, foul-mouthed black stand-up has become a constricting pose. The machinery of the entertainment industry keeps performers boxed in categories that challenge neither white nor black audiences. At one point the comic confesses that he doesn’t talk like this offstage but is too afraid of the reactions of his peers to drop the persona.

The sketch that follows, the show’s funniest segment, is a comic-strip odyssey about a young black man, Omar (Okieriete Onodowan), who aspires to rap stardom. Shortly after waking up one day and announcing his dream to his dubious mom, He is seduced into drug dealing and thrown in prison. There he meets a religious fanatic named Paul the Extremist and a record executive who eventually makes him a blinged-out star.

The style is deadpan surrealism. When a basketball-playing friend flops on the ground suddenly, Omar exclaims: “Oh no! A drive-by shooting!” The introductory monologue from the zombified drug kingpin (a hilarious Prentice Onayemi) is typical of the skit’s chipper style.

“I’m going to rob people and shoot them and also sell drugs,” he tells Omar blandly, arms waving slowly in hip-hop motion. “You should do it too.” The weirdly innocuous tone, like that of a children’s book, is presumably Ms. Lee’s mordant commentary on the simplicity of the dominant narratives of black urban dysfunction and/or achievement prevalent in the cultural atmosphere.

A somewhat inscrutable song follows, performed a cappella by three of the cast members. But it provides a palate cleanser leading into the last and longest segment, on the surface a straight-up naturalistic comedy set at a cocktail party.

Even on its bantering surface, the play takes a few turns into the peculiar. After pouring drinks and making the usual welcoming chatter, the party’s host, Thomas (Mr. Streater), eventually begins playing odd, antagonistic games, dredging up humiliating secrets to expose. Things get more macabre still when threats of murder and suicide are served up along with the crudités.

But both the play’s surface realism and the lurid incidents Ms. Lee sprinkles across it are really just diversionary tactics meant to keep us guessing about the larger game she’s playing. To say much more would be to spoil the sucker punch line, but as she does in the best of the material in “The Shipment,” Ms. Lee sets you thinking about how we unconsciously process experience — at the theater, or in life — through the filter of racial perspective, and how hard it can be to see the world truly in something other than black and white.

The article can be read here, and tickets can be bought here. And you can see Georgia's name here:

THE SHIPMENT

Written and directed by Young Jean Lee; produced by Caleb Hammons; associate director, Lee Sunday Evans; sets by David Evans Morris; costumes by Roxana Ramseur; lighting by Mark Barton; sound by Matthew Tierney; choreography by Faye Driscoll; assistant director, Georgia X. Lifsher; dramaturgy by Mike Farry; fight choreography by Jason McDowell Green. A Young Jean Lee Theater Company production presented by the Kitchen; at the Kitchen, 512 West 19th Street, Chelsea; (212) 255-5793, Ext. 11, or ticketweb.com. Through Jan. 24. Running time: 1 hour 25 minutes.

WITH: Mikeah Ernest Jennings, Douglas Scott Streater, Prentice Onayemi, Okieriete Onodowan, Amelia Workman, Foteos Macrides and Joseph John.

Congrats Georgia!

Tuesday, May 27, 2008

THE ACCURSED DANCE

In the Battledroid world, I'd like to think we crave culture like bats out of hell (what?). I just wanted to give a little shout out to a group of talented dancers that are doing a little performance at the Brooklyn Arts Exchange this Friday and Saturday (my room mate, the sensuous Marisa Wallin, will be one of them).

Since we all hunger to support independent, experimental and localized projects, I thought I'd put up a little information about the performance, which sounds incredibly chaotic and imaginative:

"In The Accursed Items, choreographer Andrew Dinwiddie reanimates the work of other dance and theater artists as discovered in a particular kind of accursed item: deleted scenes and rehearsal videos from never-used and drastically reworked dances.

Alternately austere and rambunctious, The Accursed Items draws from material that was not quite good enough for The Wooster Group, Big Dance Theater, Metallica and others.

Anchored by text from J. Robert Lennon exposing the lingering psychic life of objects, The Accursed Items is a sympathy card for everything that was never good enough. "


I have a tremendous amount of lingering psychic life from objects, and I hope to get it excised during the show. Oh, and in the worst case scenario, they have three dollar beers you can drink inside.
Here is the info:

ADDITIONAL ACCURSED DETAILS:

FRIDAY, JUNE 13:

Pre-show reception
Beer & cheese pairing hosted by Chris Munsey of Murray's Cheese
7 pm | $50 suggested donation
For this reception, RSVP to dinwiddie@gmail.com

Friday's performance features a reading by author J. Robert Lennon and post-show talkback with Andrew Dinwiddie.

SATURDAY, JUNE 14:

Saturday's Accursed Items evening includes performances by Karinne Keithley, Daniel Linehan and Neal Medlyn

Afterparty at Jackie's Fifth Amendment
404 Fifth Avenue (at 7th Street)
9:30pm | $10 at the door

The Accursed Items is being created by:
Katie Brook Frank DenDanto III Benjamin Forster Natalie Green
Jill Guidera Caleb Hammons Tom Hennes Julia May Jonas
Dylan Latimer Kristine Lee Carly Pansula Erin Tracy
Marisa Wallin Angrette McCloskey Daniel Allen Nelson Jessica Wasilewski
Wendy Meiling Yang
With text by: J. Robert Lennon Atul Gawande

Oh, and at $8 for you low-income peoples (us creative types, struggling against commoditizing our art), its totally worth it. Get tickets here, and here and here and here.