This is RJE With The News...
And Tracey with the Weather...

I'll bet some of you thought that perhaps I'd finally made true my dreams disappearing into the icy peaks between Bhutan and Nepal...well, maybe i have...but the point is, I'm sure some of you were rapt with excitement when I posted that survey the other day. Proof that I was alive, well, and still making asinine answers to even more asinine questions. It made me proud to do it.

Things have been...well, things.

Thus far, two of my three goals have been achieved before the onset of August that will determine how much longer I invest in southern California. I made a quick jaunt over to Texas to visit with family. I bought a book on boobs. I wrote the opening of a music video. And I've eaten six packets of blueberry flavored applesauce. Sounds like a pretty full plate, does it not? (Even if you don't know what the two out of three goals mentioned above was...)

Most importantly, my art show came to pass. Through a twist of fate, I was able to show two pieces, although I could only sell one of them. Ah, the exposure. Did I sell the one? I have no idea as of yet. This Sunday, I either pick up the check or the painting.

But a show. A real show. I had a piece in a really real show. That was exciting as all get out. Prior to this, I've only done things privately, or on commission. No one, until now, had ever thought to stick something I'd painted up in a gallery for strangers (well, some of them) to see. The whole thing was rather thrilling.

True, I was but one of 30+ artists who through something up...but it was a big piece...people were bound to notice it. (If you'd like to see it, it's in my photos section...the one with the big Bruce Lee at the bottom). And though I tried not to be obnoxious about it...I did occasionally hang out nearby to see if people were looking at it. They did.

I've been invited to participate in another show in October, which is a thrilling prospect. I know it may seem suspect to the more jaded among you out there (who are clicking your tongue at ME for daring to refer to anyone else as jaded), but that's a huge thing. Someone wants me to show this goofy stuff that I occasionally splash on canvas. They're actually asking me to show it.

Alright. I threaten to gush.

The next great piece of creative triumph is that I finished the first wave of my fiction experiment over at my Friends of Junior blog: One hundred pages of original fiction for four to five days a week. It's a helluva lot tougher than it sounds. Orginally, they were all going to be single page entries, but over time, if I managed to write two full pages then I counted it as two entries. I figured that was fair, and only a few went for three. No sense in stopping yourself when you're on a roll.

Now I've got two issues to face with the blog.

The first is what to do next with it. It was both a huge help and something of a heavy yoke to get an entry done every day (although in the last few weeks I was writing them two at a time...it was something of a streak). I said I'd do it and I did. Overall, it helped as a warm up or a cool down to the rest of my creative endeavors I'd worked on during the day. Also, as they were short and without a larger framework, it allowed me to let my mind wander and the old imagination fly a bit as well as provide a vehicle to do some exercises in other styles. But where to go from here? I'm thinking of doing a serialized book...although more like a comic strip without drawings (or maybe I will do some drawings....)...and just fill in a page a day. I don't know what the subjects going to be. Some have suggested doing a full-length adventure of the joke sci-fi character, Mash Jordan, that I'd already "created" (let's face it...haha...he's thinly disguised...and he's what I fell back on when I couldn't come up with anything else and the clock was ticking). Others say, do something new. And a minority thinks I should keep doing the completely different short stuff. (Anyone want some more of my poetry?!?)

The second is what to do with the material I've already done for it. Originally, I intended to put it all together for an anthology that I could put up for sale. Part of me still wants to do that, but my concern is that a few of those ideas I'm thinking of expanding into full length short stories I could submit to contests or magazines. Sometimes they aren't so keen if it's already been published. Guess I'll find out. I'll let you all know either way.

Finally, I'm putting together my materials to try to find me a lit agent to sell one of these goofy novels I've written. If anyone has any suggestions, chime on in. So far, it's gotten some good reviews from the couple of people I've shown it to. Also, I'm almost a quarter of the way through my fourth book. It's finally taking some shape, and starting to come together.

Well...wish me luck. I wish you luck. Back to the snowshoes.

Cheers.

Crises Nearly Complete...Film At Eleven...
I'm trying to...uh...be more...uh...sheesh...uh...Assertive...

So...

How is everybody today? That's good to hear...Aww, I didn't know that...Congratulations...Oh, tell her 'hi' for me...I hope Jimmy gets his leg back, those bites can be nasty...

Now that we've gotten past the preliminaries....

I think I'm nearly over my crises concerning my life, where it's going, and what the hell I'm going to do with it. I've started looking for some regular jobby-jobs (any help is well appreciated...resumés available upon request)...but I've realized that what I really like to do is write stories (not necessarily movies...but I like doing them too) and paint pretty pictures. Unfortunately, there's no guarantee that even if you're really good that anyone's going to pay you for that...but I'm seeing what I can do. (Anyone know any publishers...?)

You probably don't remember, and I don't blame you, that a few months ago...in fact, probably at least a year ago now, I may have mentioned that I had a little experiment I was going to try. It basically entailed me trying to write a novel in 100 days, and all of you could read along as I went. Well, in case I never mentioned it, I wrote that novel...it's just that you didn't get to read along.

See, I was thinking like a cartoonist. I wanted to get ahead first so that in case things came up, I'd still be able to post industry. A li'l cushion before the pushin' if you will. Well, I got things planned out, and I wrote the first couple of entries...and one thing led to another and I finished it. So anyhow...one day I might still share it...in fact, I really want to...just not that way...("It's called With Friends Like These, Junior..."...by the way)

Anyhow, for those of you who may have been excited...and I know that that's probably all of you...I'm going ahead with the experiment, but I'm going to do something a little different. Each day I'm going to write at least one 8.5" x 11" sheet of paper's worth of material for at least four days out of every week. When I get to 100 entries, I'm going to make an anthology that I'll be all too thrilled to try and sell...potentially I'm going to try for 300.

As for content...well, it might be whole short stories, it might be fragments, it might be really random dribbeldy-poop, it might be half-baked bad jokes...come to think of it, the whole thing might be a half-baked bad joke. I'm hoping that it makes some sort of cosmic sense even in the potential chaos and nonsense. So I suppose if you like my bulletin entries...you'll might just love this...

So whattya think? Sound like fun?

I'm setting up the space for it now, and will probably begin in a week or so....or so I hope. I'll post the link once the madness gets well underway. (I'm also entertaining the thought of making podcasts or something of me reading the choicer entries...we'll see...)

Tell your friends. Bring it to the streets. Shout it from the hills.

Here I come baby...I'm comin' to GETCHA!

Cheers.

Safely past Quarter...I'm onto the Third/Life Crises...
What the he!! am I doing and what should I be doing?

Friends, Romans, Countrymen...

I come before you today, to ask your advice in helping me to make the decision that fate just ain't givin' me enough evidence to make all on my cuddly lonesome...

Truth is...my love for the movies and the process of movie-making these days hasn't quite turned out to be what I had thought it would be. Also, if there was that fun niche I was supposed to trip and fall into...well, it's maybe the first and only time I ain't been clumsy enough. And though I still would love to be a part of the process, I don't know that it's what I want to be doing anymore at this stage of the game.

The ironic part is that one of the primary reasons I chose this industry was a) the love I had for the movin' pictures as a youth and b) the fact that it is an industry, a proper business of sorts (ie. somethin' you should be able to make money at). Couple that with the facts that I humored myself as being smarter than the average bear, and I didn't come out here expecting there to be a director's chair waitin' for me. I figured I was golden. After all, I never wanted to choose the starving artist route...and yet, what I've come to enjoy more than anything is writing straight prose fiction (not screenplays...although, they're alright...) and painting. I mean...with the exception of heavy math...I've been fortunate enough to be fairly competent at doing anything I've decided to take a shot at...but those two things, the writin' and paintin' are generally what I love doing most.

Granted, I certainly don't have to be in Los Angeles to do those things, though the chances for exposure are far greater (more optimal in many ways would be New York, haha, but there's no way I'm heading the wrong direction down Snowy Penniless Lane...). In some ways, I'm hedging my bets...if I could keep something consistent brewing with the writing (I'm looking for publishing connections!?!), the art (I'll be in my first show in a few months...and am lookin' into how to get into more), and watching for opportunities that still open up in the movie business to jump in when I can. (I've still been writin' shorts for folks and doing some script doctorin' as it's come along...)

I'm fairly certain that doesn't sound like a recipe for success based in any reality that anyone else occupies...since every one of those things are based so strongly on chance...so I've been sort of riding on faith. The tough thing in keeping on or giving up has always been that things have been so even handed...I always seem to get just enough of something to interest me or move me along...or pay the bills for a bit...but then something else gets set in my way. A zero sum game so to speak...for every move forward or laterally is a move back...for every positive, a negative.

So yes, I've been trying to consider my options on what else I could do and where I could go...or even what more I might need to learn. And while I'm not against the idea of relocating...well, two things keep bothering me...For one: I moved a whole bunch when I was younger, and I'm not ready necessarily to start building from scratch...and it'd be easier if I knew (unlike when I came out here) to know that there's something to go to when I get there. For two: well, you can call it ego, but it's that feeling of defeat, of letting the town beat me somehow. going back to somewhere I've already lived...makes it feel like I gave up. Haha, I'm not sure if that sounds idiotic or not...but that's definitely what it is...coupled with the sneaking suspicion that success might be around the corner, and leaving now would cause me to miss it...

On the con side against me, as a person...while I've been talking to more folks here recently about expanding my options above...well, I know in my heart that I ain't done nearly enough to push myself out there to try and achieve more than I have. So, trust me, if anyone knows that a hefty chunk can be blamed squarely on me...I knows it to be true...

And that's why I'm here in the first place....what do you, my personal public, think? Am I spinning my wheels? Is it time for a change? A move? Do I just need to do more, stick it out a little longer...and stick my neck out a little farther while I'm at it? Do you know anyone who might could help a brother out in the aforementioned literary, arts, or entertainment world? Do I need to just get a job?

The search of the soul continues...

Cheers.

Who Are You Going To Be When You Get Here?
Thank you for your work, Beat Takeshi...

One of my primary film enjoyments in life come from a stocky dynamo of creative force, Kitano Takeshi. Whether it's something he directed himself, or something he just starred in, I tend to enjoy this man whose mind and spirit always seem to be somewhere else, but who still maintains a screen presence like few others.

I first came across him when his directorial debut A Violent Cop had set the cinephile world abuzz. Come to think of it, I think it was in England's film mag Empire...since even many things "movie" in America still have an allergy to most things subtitled. In any event, I tracked down a copy...and well, hey, I didn't really like it much at the time. I couldn't, however, deny that he was definitely on to something.

Time has passed, and I've consumed many of the things Kitano that I've been able to lay hands on (and I admit that those who guffaw at copyright laws have been most helpful where American distributors have failed me). I can still picture one of his most tender moments where after playing a brutal thug for the better part of two hours he still tugs at the heart strings by repeating "Merry Christmas, Mr. Lawrence" to Tom Conti at the end of Oshima's film of the same name. But it's Sonatine and Fireworks that still remain at the top of my Kitano list...in fact, atop the heap of some of my favorite movies ever.

So last night, I sat down to watch his last (well, the latest one I could get ahold of)...

Takeshis' (2005 , d. Kitano Takeshi)

The Story: Once successful Japanese media icon Kitano Takeshi meets his doppelgänger, we follow the twin Takeshi through a dreamy journey of what it to NOT be successful Japanese media icon Kitano Takeshi...sort of.

The Review: Ok, let's just start this by saying that if you don't know anything about Kitano's life or work, you might still enjoy the film but you're going to be missing out on a whole lot of subtext. And let's counter that by saying that even if you do know a fair bit about him, you still might not enjoy the film and there's likely even more subtext that's zinging over your head. I enjoyed the hell out of it personally, but then again I tend to really enjoy what others consider "failure" if the makers are at least really trying to do something with it. (And I wouldn't call this a failure...)

Granted, it's two years after the fact and I'm only just getting to watch the movie, but I remember the critics being none to kind to this one. Looking back (having now watched the movie), it seems in many ways to be a case of a critical darling falling out of favor by not delivering what's expected of him. I admit, even for myself, that I missed Kitano's usual mixture of elegiac thoughtful beauty smashed together with brutal quick violence in this one. However, (and I sometimes have to chastise myself for forgetting,) there's a joy in seeing an artist grow, branch out, and try new things.

As the story progressed and the life of the sad sack struggling Takeshi became more and more outlandish, I kept thinking that it was like watching Kitano do Fellini in an exploration of filmic identity along the lines of David Lynch's recent films. That's not to say it was wholly derivative of those filmmakers, because this one's very much a personal project. Then I went back and did a little reading on the film, and found that it's being described as the first of Kitano's "self-deconstructive" films (The plot of the next one sounds even more Fellini...). In the end though, the problem therein lies.

Like any text, whether it be movie, book, or artwork. To some degree it has to stand on it's own. Not everyone going in has had access or exposure to the elements the filmmaker brought to the piece. Furthermore, even those who do like to wax intellectual about creative work don't always want to invest the time to learn more about any one piece.

So does this movie stand on it's own? To be honest, I'm not sure. I couldn't watch it as a neophyte, and I enjoyed a lot of it knowing what I already did about it's creator. That ultimately taints my ability to judge. From that stance I can say that large portions of it did work, it certainly was entertaining, it certainly had wit and depth...but, I'm not sure where it was ultimately trying to get to...

I could sit here and philosophize about the exploration of alternate realities and how, like life, they wouldn't necessarily have clean clear cut conclusions either...but it's not my place to justify the work. Not only that, but it'd be pretty arrogant of me to think that I could. It was a challenging piece of artwork that engaged me for it's run time, and I'd watch it again. So from my point of view, pretty successful. At the same time, I can see where a goodly proportion of my friends and family would not be so generous with it. (From a few I can hear the "Huh?"'s and "That sucked!"'s from here...)

So I say...if you enjoy dream-like experimental films that explore the nature of film, character, film violence, and image while having a healthy dose of a wacky sense of humor...I can't see where you can walk out of Takeshis' having gotten something for the ticket price.

Cheers.

When All I Wanted Was a Little Nappy Nap...
It's just time for that Swiftian kind of honesty...

I was beginning to worry about me there for a while. I was afraid that I was about to get delinquent on showing up to just say...well...anything...

After all, the weather's getting a little cooler (yes, even here in sunny southern California), the holidays are fast approaching...those wonderful overwrought consumerism spectaculars...and let's face it, there's nothing about a warm mug of cocoa that makes you wanna say "Hey, what the hell am I doing? I've got work to do?"

I've always been an advocate for the U.S. adopting a state sponsored "Naptime Program", that could easily be modeled after the Spanish siesta. I don't want to rehash all my thoughts here on that personally hallowed subject, but I will reiterate that an after lunch glass of milk and a stretch on a little padded mat for a while has never sounded bad to me. (And in an attempt to be PC for all them lactose intolerant folks out there...we could substitute apple juice...maybe orange...grape might be pushing your luck...but I refuse to serve anything that's chockful of Corn Syrup!)

Now that winter's almost upon us, I'm nearly to the point of advocating hibernation...or a reasonable facsimile thereof.

At the same time, I don't want this to sound hypocritical in light of my (somewhat) recent bashing of energy drinks. I still think all of that is silly...and it's not as though I myself am now filled full of lethargy. No, no...it's the onset of the end of the year...the holidays...and since it is winter...what better than hibernation? (Assuming the bears and other woodland creatures have any need to hibernate now that Washington state will probably be the same climate as Tampa Bay with the rate we're going)

Anyhow, it's the speed and the pressure that somehow gets smacked onto us at this time of year.

I mean, I've had a pretty productive year. I wrote two novellas. I did a bunch of paintings (and one really big one!). I revamped my website. I started writing blogs again. I started cleaning my ears again. I mean, I've been busy. But there's something about that end of the year, that always makes me think that I didn't do enough...

...and what's gonna stop me from getting more done? That's right...that's right: Thanksgiving and Christmas.

Maybe I'll have to retract some of what I said above....as it's just occured to me...maybe I can get my naptime here in America...by banning all the holidays. After all, a recent report I saw said that Americans work more hours than any other country in the world, and we're still not as productive. So maybe, we could make up for that gap by banning holidays...(and then maybe we could get my naptime referendum introduced...cuz if you're going to be working 16+ hours a day, you're gonna need a nap.)

Let's think about this logically. You got two types of holidays: the forgotten and the overproduced.

Now judging by how many folks besides myself were cruising in and out of the closed post office parking lot this morning...I'd say it's a safe bet that I wasn't the only one who didn't realize it was Veteran's day. Not to be crass, I feel that our veteran's do deserve recognition and some thanks, but obviously since no one in corporate America's figured out how to market it to death...we've sort of forgotten this one. And what the hell is Columbus day supposed to be about anymore? Not only were there people here when he got here...we've pretty much figured out that Vikings got here first...and now there's plenty of speculation that the Chinese were already hanging around the west coast long before Chris took the risk of not falling off the edge of the world. And it's not like anyone really gets the day off for either of those (and many others) except for bank employees and postal works (I'd include the rest of the government..but from what I've seen lately, I'm beginning to wonder if we should just mark the handful of days on the calendar that they actually do seem to work), and I somehow doubt that the bulk of those who do get it off spend the day in reverence for our fighting forces, or having a beer for Columbus.

Well, they might have the beer, but I doubt they give three cheers to the Nina, the Pinta, and the Santa Maria before downing it.

Then there's the overproduced: Christmas, Valentine's Day, Easter, Halloween (although at least it's kept most of the fun about it). I'd include St. Patrick's day, but I don't remember the last time I got the day off for that one either. And Thanksgiving sort of rides the fence...it's not quite as oversaturated in the marketing department as those above...and the only consumerism it really advocates is just food. Then again, that's sort of my problem with Thanksgiving...who the hell are we thanking? What percentage of the populace grew any of the stuff they're eating? How many of them went out to the old stump with the axe to give the ol' Tom Turkey the big shave? How many of them were starving to death, and had to turn to Native Americans for help? And how many of them wouldn't have just eaten entirely too much that day anyway?

Back to Christmas though...which in a lot of places you're not even allowed to call it that anymore...which has always made me wonder: do the atheists and whomever else who get all uppity about the use of the word Chrismas really think that it has much religious significance to most people these days? I mean, lest we forget, just saying "God" or "Jesus" used to be considered blasphemy...and once upon a time blasphemy could be a stoning offence...but when's the last time you said "Jesus Christ!" in exasperation and somewhat beaned you up side the head with a big chunk of concrete?

Anyhow, it seems to me that all most people even do anymore is shop for stuff...constantly. It's the only way to explain why when I drive cross country, the outskirts of any town (and in some cases all the rest of it) have all began to look the same. The Appleby's and Circuit City's and Bed, Bath, and Beyond's and so on are everywhere, and as I rarely see any of them closing down it must mean that someone's shopping there. And once Starbucks of the Coffee Bean has landed...your small town is finished...usually because the Wal-Mart's pretty much killed every thing else. So...why do I need a holiday that's become nothing but an excuse to buy more stuff for each other that we probably would've bought for ourselves anyway? (Unless you X-mas shop exclusively at Spencer Gifts, Adult Bookstores, or other fine novelty shops)

And if we got rid of it...that's another day of work to buy more stuff anyway! Perfect!

Not that I want to leave out good ol' Valentine's Day. I remember as a kid it being the cutesy day where we all made little decorative...um...well paper bags with construction paper hearts as a little inner classroom mailbox for slips of paper featuring our favorite comic book, cartoon, or movie characters which we all handed to each other (after spending time trying to figure out how to ditch out on giving one to that one kid we really didn't like). Then somewhere along the line...it became all about jewelry...or rather my obligation as a male to buy some for my significant female...as well as some sort of ridiculous date within which to present it. Now, I guess men are somewhat back in on the action as Valentine's means buying all kinds of crap for each other...and mind you that's the only way to prove your love on that special day...because X-mas isn't enough...you've got to buy more crap! So it's good you worked that day to be able to afford it.

Which brings me to my final thought on all this...which isn't holiday related...but it's close in spirit: Why do we still pretend that Saturday and/or Sunday are days off? Remember that thing about blaspheming above...well, there used to also be rules about working on the weekends. But if you work retail (ie. selling sh!t) and I've worked retail, when could you ever count on Sunday as your...ahem...day of rest?

So let's just stop pretending...no more holidays!...and no more weekends! We've got money to make and crap to buy...and it's high time we got on with it.

And then maybe, just maybe...I wouldn't feel like I still had so much to do at the end of the year...

AND I imagine that dropping from exhaustion will help me attain that nirvana-like state of hibernation I now feel myself to be in pursuit of...

See how a good plan always comes together?

Cheers.

Never Gonna Fall For...Modern Life...Never Gonna Fall For
Only the French could do it like this...

Thanks to a film I viewed a few weeks ago, I was trying to think of another movie that made me laugh out loud, and at the same time, frankly, depressed the hell out of me...

Actually, I should be more specific. The 90's version of Cyrano de Bergerac with Depardieu makes me laugh and by the end makes me really sad, but that's not really what I'm thinking. Come to think of it, most modern romantic comedies depress me...but usually don't make me laugh. Anyhow, that's a whole other issue...

I'm talking modern life...or just life in general...or the human condition...that kind of high-falutin' silliness.

The first movie that sprung to mind was Mike Judge's Idiocracy, which barely saw release last year. It's depiction of a future overrun by the proliferation of the lowest common denominator was both laugh out loud funny and very obviously meant to shame you for laughing at its stupidity at the same time. It was something Judge had certainly been perfecting with Beavis & Butthead. The sad irony being that over time people stopped looking down at their moronic antics, and began to identify with them. (The "bliss of ignrance" so to speak...)

Someone just tossed in Terry Gilliam's Brazil, which is another fine example. It's a d@mned good combination of Orwell and Huxley's visions of the future. It doesn't try to deliver on the laughs in a typically comedic fashion, but it certainly has some classic funny moments. Hell, Robert DeNiro as a revolutionary air-conditioning repair man (I know, I know...Heating Engineer) is pure hilarity in and of itself. And yet, it has one of the most horrific moments ever when the same character is killed...by paperwork...in a scene that simply has to be seen.

So why was I thinking about this? Because I sat down and watched:

Playtime (1967)
written and directed by: Jacques Tati

The Story: On his way to appointment, M. Hulot ends up spending a day trapped in the new modern section of Paris where he constantly crosses paths with a pretty American tourist who can't find her way free to the classic parts of the town.

The Review: Playtime is another one of those massive undertaking's that became a cinematic pariah in it's time when it was considered a disappointing failure after much anticipation during it's 3 years of production and massive construction of several city blocks for the set. Now, of course, it's come to be considered a masterpiece, not only of Tati's well regarded work, but of cinema in general. I felt it well deserved that distinction while watching it.

But it wasn't exactly easy...

The words "oppressive" and "alienating" don't fit in to the description of many comedies, but Playtime could easily be described as both. The meticulously constructed sets of steel and glass with little but black and grey tones for a color palette were at once amazing, and utterly frigid. The angles and planes of..well, everything...reminded me of the futurist drawings of Antonio Sant'Elia but drained of any of the character or humanity. So, they were at once fascinating to look at it, and horrific to imagine occupying.

Not that it's easy to imagine that as the whole film was lensed at a distance not wholly unlike watching the whole film through a security camera. That's not to say it was a bad thing. There are so many rich details to watch in the edges and corners of any given frame. Hulot and the tourist girl aren't the only figures who seem to be wandering in circles through this glacial modernity. If you look around, you'll see the same distinct little figures move through the frame, and by the end, they're almost like the people you see each day around your neighborhood that you don't know and likely will never speak to.

And yet, there's still something very funny about watching Hulot get whisked through it all. One particular standout moment is a scene on a shopping center's showroom where people are wowed by an array of useless but interesting modern gadgets. It's sort of a preview of The Sharper Image 10 years before said company first opened it's doors.

By the last third of the film, it warms considerably as Hulot is snagged into a new modern restaurant that's barely finished construction before it opens it's door to the public. There are a number of wonderful comic moments such as couple who never gets served their dish which sits on a tray in front of them with waiters constantly coming to prepare it only to be called away. The restaurant's construction is shoddy, and as the evening really gets under way, the public all but tears it apart piece by piece. In the midst of the chaos, however, is where most of the human connections take place (mostly lorded over by a archetypically "Ugly American" tourist).

Believe me, I've only mentioned a few highlights, there are plenty more wonderful jokes and sight gags (the best one involves the door of the restaurant...but I'll say no more). Not to mention that I could write an entire analysis of the design "flaws" the movie pokes fun at as "form" rules over "substance" much to the chagrin of the people dealing with it.

By the end, I was exhausted. Mostly because of the conflicting emotions watching the movie, but also because it seemed so much more relevant to our lives now than perhaps it did then. Or perhaps it was a truth that they weren't ready to face about the potential for alienation in modern life. However Playtime presents that alienation in the modern structural forms from office buildings to office cubicles, all the elevators and escalators in between, and out to the endless cycle of traffic outside. In reading the wikipedia entry for Tati, it seems that his last project was meant to be another comedic take on the sort of alienation that's even more pervasive today: "'Confusion' was a story about a futuristic city (Paris) where activity is centered around television, communication, advertising, and modern society's infatuation with visual imagery." (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Jaques_Tati)

I'm sure if computers were as much a part of daily personal life in Tati's time (he died in 1982), he'd have had something to say about them as well. In some ways that brings to mind another movie...David Cronenberg's Videodrome (which...well, isn't a comedy). Although it was about television, it really had so much more to say about the future of computers, and the anonymity and potential alienation contained therein.

In any event, I recommend you get a copy of Playtime, give it a whirl, and maybe give it some thought.

Cheers.

I Almost...Almost...Want My Moustache Back...
It was time for some culturin'...

I've recently completed an editing session on the two short books I wrote earlier this year in order to ready them for a trip to the bosom of our government's Library of Congress.

If only I was as well traveled of late as my work will be. Only postage is far cheaper than travel and lodging...oh, and food...and all that other stuff.

In any event, I've nearly managed to pull together my ideas for a new book, and am preparing myself to start.

On the other hand, I’ve also recently completed a series of painted portraits that will soon be on display. So far, they’ve been a hit with those I’ve shared them with, and I may have snagged a commission out of it. Now on the cusp of a new literary adventure, I’ve been getting pushed back toward painting again. I’m a touch torn on which to pursue…

One of the influences toward the artistic was a show I went to the other day.

In the 7.5 years that I have occupied Los Angeles, I had yet to make it to the Los Angeles County Museum of Art. It took only slightly less time and a visitor from out of town to make it to the Getty Center. This coming from a guy who spent at least one day each month at the Detroit Institute of Arts for several years. In any event, I had actually talked myself out of going on Thursday morning, when another friend asked me if I wanted to go that afternoon. Oh Serendipity…you slippery b!tch…

The show we attended was for one Salvador Dalí, the guy who André Breton wanted to eject from the surrealists but who came to personify it in the public’s eye.

Over the years, I’d developed somewhat mixed feelings about Dalí’s work, but I came to realize that it wasn’t Dalí himself that I had the problem with. Haha…it was marketing. Much like Escher, Dalí was one of those guys that got spewed all over T-shirts, mousepads, oven mitts, and stack after stack of badly reproduced coffee table books.

Granted, I’m not sure I ever saw any Dalí merch that outdid that ridiculous blow-up version of Munch’s The Scream.

Anyhow, it had diluted what I thought about Dalí’s body of work over time and with much repetition. This show, however, managed to retract many of those feelings. The fact of the matter is that all those reproductions (like with most painters) fail to capture the stunning quality of the work when you are standing in front of it.

I’ve never been a huge fan of overly colorful work. That’s just a personal thing. But Dalí captured a vibrant and electric palate that even the whimsically nightmarish quality of his subjects couldn’t render garish. The show gathered together an impressive collection of his work from museum’s around the world as well as a surprising amount of work from private collections.

Most interestingly though, it showed me how much work for film Dalí had attempted. I had seen the Bunuel films, of course, but this showed an aborted project with Fritz Lang and further sequences that were unfilmed or cut from Hitchock’s Spellbound. Even more shocking was the array of work he had completed for an animated collaboration with Walt Disney. However, what captured my eye and heart the most was an attempted collaboration with my beloved Marx Brothers. (There was an illustration of Groucho as Shiva that I would have risked imprisonment to abscond with.)

It was much of this work that I was most thankful to see as I imagine much of it has spent a fair amount of time sealed away in archives, and is rarely ever viewed by the public.

Funny enough, reading some of the exposition on the walls about the pieces and listening to some of the crowd, I was reminded of Dalí’s penchant for being spurned by some of the art world for his right wing politics and his elitism. The final marker on the way out was a quote from Andy Warhol on Dalí whose company Andy enjoyed as he felt that being with Dalí was like being with a “true artist” but that Salvador would never be caught dead in a loft. This gave me a good chuckle thinking about how many I’ve known who’ve put more effort into living up to a stereotype of an “artist” or “musician” or “poet”, etc. rather than putting the same effort into the work they did.

I won’t comment on the elitism…I already catch enough flack for that.

Which brings me back around the merchandise.

I’m sure Dalí would’ve been more than fine with it. In fact, he did some work and even appeared in several ads in his time. I always remember a passage (enough to paraphrase it) from the photo-essay “Dalí’s Moustache” when they ask him why he loves painting, and he replies “For the love of Art” but the photo on the opposite page shows him having tooled his moustache into an ‘s’ with two paintbrushes crossing it.

$.

It’s still something artist’s are expected to spurn as a distraction from the “truth” of their medium (especially the image conscious above.). But I still find that like most things in life, art too is driven by it.

After all, it’s not for nothing that the name ‘Medici’ is so often coupled with all them lovely Renaissance artists.

(Oh and for the record...haha...if you thought the Mona Lisa was small...you should see the Persistence of Memory...)

Cheers.