CULTUREPHILE: PORTLAND ARTS

eye want candy

TBA 2011: Miwa Matreyek’s Silhouette Sorcery

Posted by: Anne Adams on Sep 20, 2011 at 11:00AM 0 Comments

Once Miwa Matreyek steps behind a screen, her shadow self awakes and traverses sparkling other-worlds. If you missed her at The Works last Tuesday, feast your eyes on this video:

Not exactly sure how it’s done? Neither were we.

For more about Portland arts events, visit PoMo’s Arts & Entertainment Calendar, stream content with an RSS feed, or sign up for our weekly On The Town Newsletter!

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Tags: Film, Animation, video, TBA, contemporary, tba2011

review

TBA 2011: Ruhr

Going the Distance with James Benning

Posted by: Claudia La Rocco on Sep 18, 2011 at 10:57AM 0 Comments

I hadn’t even planned to see Ruhr. I missed the earlier of its two showings and, at this point in a festival like TBA, I’m typically so far past the point of saturation that the heart quails at the thought of a two-hour durational film comprised of seven discrete shots—with the final one lasting a full hour. There’s no way I can uphold my end of the bargain.

But Friday night I ran into Robert Tyree, a thoughtful dance-artist who has been blogging TBA for PICA, and the force of his response to the film convinced me to follow my own advice and check it out.

And … oh my. Thank you thank you Robert.

All the places the mind goes when the eye is still. All the places the eye goes when the mind is still. Ruhr made room for both, plunging into that rich, quiet space where “small” things, things we typically don’t take the time to notice, become big events. A lone man on a bicycle, hustling through a gunmetal gray tunnel. The way a wind kicks up in a stand of trees after a jet passes hard and low overhead. Someone playing piano music on a drab street: familiarity can breed beauty, too.

When the lights rose, someone near me actually gasped. I felt that, too; we had been so fully immersed in something, to have it over just like that felt almost violent. A rupture. Kinda like … well, kinda like it feels to be at the end of another TBA. So long, and yet, already?

For more about Portland arts events, visit PoMo’s Arts & Entertainment Calendar, stream content with an RSS feed, or sign up for our weekly On The Town Newsletter!

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Tags: Film, TBA, TBA, tba2011

gallery

Moves Management
at North View Gallery

Posted by: Anne Adams on Mar 28, 2011 at 03:00AM 3 Comments

Today’s Monday Fun is less “ha-ha, tra-la-la,” than it is mind-bending and melancholy. Entitled Moves Manager , it’s the centerpiece of an art exhibit called Moves Management which will be featured at PCC’s North View Gallery starting March 31.

The guy in the suit is artist Evertt Beidler. He’s already gotten some love from RACC and OAC, and Culturephile has to agree: this thing—equal parts performance art, cyborg craft, and social-practice confrontation—is mad cool.

Moves Management will continue at North View Gallery throughout April. For more about Portland arts events, visit PoMo’s Arts & Entertainment Calendar, stream content with an RSS feed, or sign up for our weekly On The Town Newsletter!

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Tags: Art, performance, Film, monday fun, video, galleries

Three Veils opens POWfest

Posted by: Anne Adams on Mar 03, 2011 at 02:00AM 0 Comments

Three Veils, a tale about Middle Eastern women’s journeys of personal discovery, will be the flagship feature at POWfest, the Portland Oregon Women’s Film Festival. The five-day event kicks off next Wednesday at the Hollywood Theatre, with a packed program of shorts showcases, workshops, and panel discussions designed to inspire female filmmakers.

Check the POWfest Schedule for details. For more about Portland arts events, visit PoMo’s Arts & Entertainment Calendar, stream content with an RSS feed, or sign up for our weekly On The Town Newsletter!

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Tags: Film, Gay-Friendly, festival, women

film

PIFF Pick: The Last Circus

This International Film Fest flick delivers politically portent clown-on-clown violence.

Posted by: Jonathan S Banasky on Feb 23, 2011 at 08:00AM 1 Comments

For the last leg of its impressive two-and-a-half-week run, the Portland International Film Festival has partnered with area colleges and CineLit, to curate a showcase of films en español. Among the titles, Black Bread humanizes the struggles of post-war rural Spain, Revolución and Chicogrande tackle the Mexican Revolution, and Hermano is the Venezuelan submission for “Best Foreign Language Film” Oscar. Culturephile can’t catch them all—though we suggest you do. Jonathan Banasky was able to take in The Last Circus, and file this review:

Balada Triste de Trompeta (The Last Circus) has everything you would expect from a foreign film: sex, romance, betrayal, action, and of course, what would a good piece of art cinema be without machine gun-toting clowns? Of all the imaginative films coming to town in this year’s PIFF, I defy you to find one as bizarre, grotesque, disturbing, and entertaining as Alex de la Iglesia’s historical black comedy.

The movie follows Javier, a sad circus clown who falls in love with his boss’ girlfriend. The three end up in a love triangle that spirals out of control, resulting in one clown’s machine gun rampage, among other equally as ridiculous clown-on-clown violence. The film intertwines historical facts of Franco’s fascist regime with absurd fiction, creating an allegory representing the clownish nature of fascism and its effect on Spain.

Political symbolism aside, this movie is absolutely insane, yet you cannot take your eyes off it. Every shot is artfully crafted with a pulpy, comic book feel and every scene sways between hilarious, horrifying, and downright strange. The Last Circus may not be for everyone (especially those of us with lingering childhood clown issues), but de la Iglesia’s film is truly original and unlike anything you will find in American cinema.

The Portland International Film Festival runs through the 26th. For more upcoming arts events, visit PoMo’s Arts & Entertainment Calendar, stream content with an RSS feed, or sign up for our weekly On The Town Newsletter!

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Tags: Review, Film, festival, Latin, circus, Spanish, international

film

A Few Good Reasons To Watch “Foreign” Films

Need a reason to catch the Portland International Film Festival? Here are several.

Posted by: Anne Adams on Jan 31, 2011 at 03:00PM 1 Comments

First, let me defend the above title, though I know the word “foreign” has fallen from vogue. In this context, I say “foreign” in the most objective sense of the word. I mean films that are from another nation than the one you’re from, no matter where you’re from. (If you are Chinese, I might mean a Czech film. If you’re Spanish, I might be referring to an Indian piece. Et cetera. You get the idea.) Now, obviously I write this from Portland, Oregon, so for the purpose of this discussion, “domestic” is defined as “North American,” and, implicitly, “Hollywood-based.” That said, some points in this article will apply to whatever’s foreign to you. Glad we got that out of the way. Okay.

This morning, Portland International Film Festival hosted its first press screening, a Russian film called Silent Souls. The barrage of images, the slips of sparse dialogue, and the novel, unique camerawork were completely mesmerizing, and got me thinking about…

WHAT MAKES FOREIGN FILMS SO GREAT:

They evoke your inner child. Presuming you don’t speak the language of the film you’re seeing (that it’s “foreign” to you), you’ll hear words and phrases as babble, but observe people and things with the usual clarity. This is a childlike, right-brained experience. Your inability to process the language is humbling, even as your other senses become more acutely attuned to the other nonverbal cues. Subtitles help you decode the storyline, but not before you’ve immersed yourself in a moment that’s quite literally beyond your comprehension. Widen those eyes, kid.

They’re educational. I know, I know: this seems like a spoonful of medicine in the sugar. But I defy you to watch a foreign film and not accidentally learn something. Now, Silent Souls is particularly educational, with a narrator volunteering a lot of information about the marital and burial customs of the Merjan people (Most unforgettably, their habit of braiding colored strings into bridal pubic hair. Hm.) But usually, the simple act of watching, painlessly imbues you with a new understanding of foreign traditions, industries, or conflicts.

They’re uniquely “poeti-sophical.” That is not a word. But foreign films have a way of blending poetry with philosophy that’s puzzlingly brilliant. “Drowning means to suffocate from joy, tenderness, and yearning.” “A living woman’s body is a river that carries grief away.” These are just two quotes from Silent Souls that support this admittedly broad generalization. But I bet the selection of screenings from PIFF, will unearth many more stunning mantras and koans.

They’re exotically erotic. Mainstream, “commercial” forms of erotica often (ahem) leave much to be desired. They’re explicit in all the wrong ways, and puzzlingly _de_humanize, the most human of acts. Hollywood films avoid this debauchery altogether with a rigorous ratings system which kiboshes natural amounts of nudity, and a de-facto practice of only denuding implausibly beautiful people from predictable angles. Films from elsewhere, are less likely to impose these prim restraints, lingering on believably imperfect bodies and believably spontaneous acts. Not preoccupied with the “hot spots,” they’re just as likely to salaciously pan across a knee, or zoom into a neck-nape. This sexuality feels more real, more interesting, and more human, than vulgar porn or glib, perfunctory “rated-R.”

They burn smaller fires. We’re all-too-familiar with Hollywood pyrotechnics and general hyperbole. Buildings and cars too often explode into livid orange fireballs, and the recent 3-D craze now routinely unleashes dragons, suspends us from dangerous heights, and plumes the aforementioned fireballs right into our faces. In foreign films, (and, admittedly, less commercial, more modern domestic ones) the metaphorical and literal fires are smaller. In Silent Souls, there is a funeral pyre. Two men stack the wood and lug a body onto it, in almost-real time. They pour vodka, and touch the pyre with a torch. That is the brightest the film ever burns. And that’s fine.

They have homelier heroes. You know what? Bald men fall in love. Plump women dare to dream. Slackjawed, furrowed faces can reveal heavy emotion in closeups. While Hollywood favors those who age gracefully (Clooney) or not at all (Locklear), and tends to prefer its actors to manually subtract the 10 pounds the camera metaphorically adds, it seems foreign films more often train their cameras’ unjaundiced eyes on imperfect specimens. It’s a relief, really.

The endings are less predictable. One might guess that foreign filmmakers, especially those who aren’t driven by commercial incentives, have fewer studio execs breathing down their necks, lobbying for tried-and-true “feelgood” themes. Hence, foreign films seem less burdened to please, and more invested in simply delivering a meaningful experience. Gone is the obligation to “tie up loose ends,” or to implausibly shelter heroes from tragedy, or even death. When no character is indispensable, anything might happen.

They offer new objects and landscapes. There are a million variations in this big world, of a peely-painted old fence. Of a shed, a house, a blouse, a dog, a boat. Each region of each country has its own style of utilitarian, commonplace trappings, which combine to impart a larger sense of character to the place. These everyday sights look ordinary to the natives, but seem quaint and strange to “foreigners.” In Silent Souls , a handmade bird-cage is mounted on the back of a bicycle. An antique typewriter is towed by sled, across a snowy lake. A bridge formed from a flotilla of loosely-connected rotting wooden rafts, snakes back and forth as a man walks across it. It all looks very functional and basic, but it doesn’t look like any sights you’d typically see.

All right. That’s the best case I can make. For romantic, rhapsodic, surprising, surreal, eye-opening experiences—watch the most “foreign” films you can find.

The Portland International Film Festival starts next Thursday, February 10. Meanwhile, check out the schedule or pre-purchase tickets. For more upcoming arts events, visit PoMo’s Arts & Entertainment Calendar!

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Tags: Film, festival

tune in: television

Portlandia Premiere

Creator Carrie Brownstein and Director Jonathan Krisel weigh in on their new IFC series’ growing hype.

Posted by: Anne Adams on Jan 15, 2011 at 03:00AM 2 Comments

Last night, at the “red carpet” premiere of Portlandia, a tastefully casual Carrie Brownstein and Jonathan Krisel traipsed the (admittedly reddish, but not event-specific) Hollywood Theater rug, and let Culturephile and PM’s style blog Shop Talk pepper them with PDX-centric questions. By the end of the evening, the pair’s charm and sincerity, as well as the genuine funniness of the content they unveiled, had all but completely melted our initial frigid skepticism. But of course, the first thing we had to ask was:

Why did you guys choose to eat Portland Monthly Magazine ?
Jonathan: Um, I think it was just like a quintessential, iconic Portland periodical, and we felt like that’s what we needed for the scene.

Carrie: It seemed less mealy than chewing on the Oregonian, or The Mercury or the Willamette Week. The whole digestive process was easier for me with your magazine. Actually, our art department made those papers out of certain pages, and they’re edible. So they were like these crazy sugar pages. You have a very sweet publication. Not cloying, not saccharine—just a nice balance.

Carrie, I think Portland people have mainly known you through Sleater Kinney. Can you tell us more about your acting experience?
You mean in my life? I haven’t really done acting since I was a kid, except in (local filmmaker) Matt McCormick’s indie film, Some Days Are Better Than Others. But for the most part, in terms of improv, it’s been the sketches I’ve made with Fred [Armisen] over the last couple years, under the moniker ThunderAnt, and then Portlandia. So most of my acting experience is from here.

What’s the difference between LA/NY actors and extras, and Portland ones? Are they less obnoxious in Portland? Is it easier?
Jonathan: Oh, definitely. I mean, we found some great people here, that were amazing. We had Evan Ward’s whole troupe, for instance. And the lady who played the waitress in the first episode—goddamn, she’s so good! I would work with her again in a heartbeat. She’s just awesome. We got a lot of great people. The dynamic was a lot of creative people, doing interesting stuff. There’s a lot of local theater, and then there was the faction of talent that was more commercial, they knew how to do their, kind of, “commercial face,” which was something I wasn’t that interested in—and then there were a lot of people coming from the theater, who were bringing something really real. Simon Max Hill was our casting guy, he’s awesome, he’s from Berkeley, and he was relentless in finding the right people. I’d be like, “I need the real Portland people.” Like, I don’t want the kinda “LA” perfect people, like the actors who are in the Nike commercials or whatever. But, we found them. Also a lot of musicians. We had some local musicians, two Decemberists. We had Corrina Repp, and she was awesome, but her scene got cut…. Everyone here is in a band, right?

Carrie: Many were just local actors that aren’t musicians…but—no, you’re probably right. Probably almost everyone plays an instrument. Yes, they’re probably mostly musicians. Just even from being in the music community and seeing LA/NY versus being in Portland—we wanted this show to be a passion project, and to come to Portland and do things in a way that most TV shows don’t do things. And Portland allows you to do that. It was a really casual environment, you know. All the actors just kind of pulled their own weight. We biked to set! It was all the cliches you would imagine.

There are six episodes now. Are more episodes in the works?
Carrie: If we get picked up for a second season, there’ll hopefully be 10 more. But we haven’t written anything yet.

Carrie, do you think the process of writing will be harder, once you’ve got everyone’s attention? Or will it be easier?
I feel like work should always be hard in some ways, especially creative endeavors. I think, though, that it’s always important to not think about any external definition of what the show is. So next time, the challenge will be to block that out, but there’s plenty more for us to write and explore. We didn’t write these six episodes with any specific audience in mind, only to just have fun and have it be silly—so hopefully we can keep ourselves in that mindframe for next season.

Would you call Portlandia a “mockumentary?”
Carrie: Absolutely not. We are not making fun of Portland. I don’t see Portland people as targets; I think Portland is a launchpad. The ideal sketch for us, starts with specificity and authenticity, veers into the absurd and then goes to the surreal, so that we’ve completely departed from this reality that we live in here in Portland. Because that is not that interesting. We all know the things that are funny and humorous about Portland, but that alone is not enough to base a show on. And also I think that the most interesting comedy isn’t trying to be funny, it’s trying to be serious, and in its effort to be serious, ends up being funny. If people think it’s a documentary—fine. Because then we’ve just achieved total seriousness.

Considering how absurd Portland life can be, are you surprised it hasn’t been singled out in comedy more often?
Carrie: I don’t know. I mean, it’s hard because I live here, so I feel like of course, I ive in a town that’s always commenting about Portland. I mean, as Portlanders, we’re so self-reflective, we’re so analytical, that kind of dialogue is constant. We’re always analyzing ourselves, making fun of ourselves. So, within Portland, it’s been done. We know that that exists. But we were just down at the TCA—the Television Critics thing—and people from the outside world found this very, very new. What I hope for Portland is that Portlandia just becomes part of the dialogue, part of the conversation—that it’s just like a band writing a song about Portland, or a local comedian or filmmaker doing something about Portland. Like, I live here, I’m part of the arts community. I don’t see it as separate from saying, “Well, here’s my version.” As a Portlander, that’s how I feel.

Jonathan: I think the people who are from here will just go, “yes, they got it.” And people from outside will not know if it’s real, or if it’s a super-heightened version of what’s really going on here. The thing is, we heightened it as much as we could, but I think the real thing beats us every time. You can’t beat a vegan strip club. You can’t come up with something better than that. Or like the nude bike ride. I mean, it’s just like, “c’mon.”

C’mon, indeed. For a list of upcoming arts events, visit PoMo’s Arts & Entertainment Calendar!

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Tags: Interview, Film, portlandia, television, tune in

tune in: television

First Full Portlandia Episode!

Bookstore feminists, juvenile team sports,
and organic farm forays. Watch it now!

Posted by: Anne Adams on Jan 13, 2011 at 11:00PM 0 Comments

Like the guy from your vegan grocery store who starts saying “hey” once he finally notices you come in every day, Portland Monthly is gradually warming to Portlandia ‘s unignorable presence. We skipped over the "Dream of The 90’s" intro, but then laughed heartily at the new content. Although we recognize members of Blitzen Trapper and Parenthetical Girls amid the action, our new favorite is “the old lady.”

For a list of upcoming arts events, visit PoMo’s Arts & Entertainment Calendar!

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Tags: Film, video, portlandia, television, tune in

Local Videos

Moving pictures, swimming men, and inquisitive dancers.

Posted by: Anne Adams on Nov 15, 2010 at 12:05AM 0 Comments

The culture machine never quits, but sometimes, after a long weekend, your synapses start to buzz and spark. You might imagine that the photos on your fridge are moving, as did Cannes Film Festival featuree Anthony Schilling in this dynamic stop-mo short:

Should you experience this symptom, try to relax—perhaps to the poolside rhapsody that locals White Hinterland contributed to Project Runway winner Gretchen Jones’ recent victory lap.

Okay, now that you’ve revived with a trip to the fridge and a dip in the pool, are you ready for an assignment? As Bouand Dance gears up for a Thanksgiving appearance on OPB’s Side Show, the company looks for a few answers from dance fans. Check out this clip, and if you feel inspired to share some thoughts or tips, fill out the Bouand Dance survey!

For more comprehensive list of events, visit PoMo’s Arts & Entertainment Calendar!

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Tags: Film, Animation, monday fun, video, stop motion

WEEKEND PICK

FILMusik: The Little Prince

Posted by: Anne Adams on Nov 11, 2010 at 03:00PM 0 Comments

In a robust theater season, one expects a gaggle of Annies, a garden of Alices, and a flock of Peter Pans. But—more than one Little Prince, in the same town, at the same time? Believe it or not—oui. Shaking The Tree Theater and FilMusik are both currently honoring the blonde wanderer, who actually enjoys a rich Portland history. In 1979, local stop-motion animation pioneer Will Vinton (probably best known for creating the groovy commercial characters the California Raisins) rendered the tale of The Little Prince in claymation. This weekend, FilMusik revives his efforts, pairing a screening of the film with live voice-overs, symphony performance, and Foley. This trailer says it all, and shows you some of the flow of Vinton’s original masterpiece:

For more upcoming events, visit PoMo’s Arts & Entertainment Calendar anytime!

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Tags: Live, Film, Animation, symphony, stop motion

phile under: cultural recycling

Five Questions for Filmusik’s Galen Huckins

Local maestro puts new sounds in old cinema

Posted by: Geoff Earl on Nov 09, 2010 at 12:00PM 0 Comments

The title may be unfamiliar but its reputation precedes it. Dünyayi Kurtaran Adam (aka, The Man Who Saves the World) is the infamous 1982 Turkish Star Wars “remake,” that recently played to a packed house at the Hollywood Theatre. With its bargain-basement production, cheap monster costumes, ridiculous martial artistry and stolen and mangled clips from the real Star Wars, this movie, in theory, couldn’t sell out a telephone booth.

But the Filmusik version of Dünyayi Kurtaran Adam was a different animal. Every sound heard in the film was performed live. Galen Huckins is the leader and driving force behind Filmusik, an ambitious arts collective that once again has successfully breathed new life into a piece of cinematic trash. With an original score, deftly executed by the Filmusik chamber orchestra and five electric guitarists, and with contributions from professional voice actors and foley artists on the dialogue and sound effects, Huckins’s ensemble prove to be masters of cultural recycling.

The next production in Filmusik’s busy schedule is a screening and sound treatment of Will Vinton’s 1979 claymation productions, The Little Prince and Rip Van Winkle (Nov. 11, 12 and 14). Miraculously, Huckins was able to secure all of the original voices that appear in the films, as well as compose a new, original soundtrack for the stop-motion classics, with veteran animator Vinton himself along for the ride as a collaborator on the project.

It’s a lot of work, just to show a movie. We asked Galen Huckins to share his inspiration with us.

Why Turkish Star Wars?

We just started our Late Night series that pairs esoteric foreign cinema with local performing artists and composers. Turkish Star Wars is really an amazing film; the audacity of it and the martial arts make for a very rock and roll show. We always enjoy working with strange material because the viewer has so few expectations going into it.

How long have you been doing this?

This is our third season as Filmusik. Our first project in 2008 paired 6 different composers with the Fliescher animated Superman cartoons from the 1940s. Since then we’ve done live soundtracks for sci-fi with electronica and string quartet, a spaghetti western with a 40-voice chorus, Japanese monster movies and many others. We always have something in the works.

What¹s on the calendar for Filmusik?

On November 11th 12th and 14th we’re teaming up with the famous Portland-based claymation studio Will Vinton for a live soundtrack show. We are performing a live score for their classic clay animated film “The Little Prince” made in 1979. We are honored to be working with the original cast now 30 years later to perform the dialog live with the film with live music and sound effects. It’s going to be a remarkable show and it showcases the work of Portland artists from the 1970s to today!

Where did the idea for performing live movie scores come from?

I was inspired largely by the silent film era of film accompaniment where live musicians were the norm. Having performers at movies was part of the theatre experience; whether it was live narrators (or “Benshi”) in Japan, live orchestras in Europe or Wurlitzer theater organists in the United States. It created an environment for music and for musicians and composers that fostered grand output and creativity. We strive to create opportunities for live music over canned music, for live and local performers to be a more regular part of our lives.

Are there any recent films that you¹d like to re-write the soundtrack for?

More than re-imagining new material, I’d love to inspire live film accompaniment of movie soundtracks by contemporary artists. There’s a lot of film coming out of Oregon, a lot of local musicians whose work appears in movies. It would be great to put together screenings of contemporary film with local musicians and bands. When you see a film with live performers, it engages you in a way that a static medium cannot. There is a vibrancy to it that reminds you of the person-to-person connection you experience at a concert.

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Tags: music, Film, 5 questions, five questions

phile under: TBA 2010

TBA 2010: Five Questions
with Ronnie Bass

It’s not too late to catch The Astronomer.

Posted by: Anne Adams on Oct 11, 2010 at 12:00AM 0 Comments

Almost a month ago, Rufus Wainwright strode onto the Schnitz stage, kicking off the TBA in a candy-striped velvet coat he’d borrowed from Gus Van Sant. Two weeks later, Blackfish let strains of slide guitar lapse into the Imago silence, to close the festival’s final live performance. But if you thought TBA 2010 was over —au contraire.

Several gallery exhibits at The Works have been open ever since, and will remain through next Sunday, October 17. This means there’s still time to take in The People’s Biennial, and maybe even get answers for the questions it raises in Kristan Kennedy’s special Sunday presentation and walk-through with Harrell Fletcher, David Rosenak and other contributors. You can still behold the bold sapphic futurism of Yemenwed, stroll through Storm Tharp’s High House —or enclose yourself, as I did twice, in the quiet dark confines of Ronnie Bass’s inner-space odysseys The Astronomer and 2012.

As minimal music tensely ticks along at less than one beat per second, Bass holds a conversation with a blanketed form, drills holes in moon-rock, and stargazes at the vast universe from a closet-sized room with a cot in the corner. After enjoying these video visions and his live performance at Drum Machine, I bumped into Bass by The Works’ beer-garden honeybucket. “It’s kind of peaceful in there,” he observed. “I don’t think anyone’s used it.”

Your songs contain a dialogue between a hesitant voice and a reassuring one—but both voices are your own. Do you think of these as a father and son? Or as one person, parenting an inner child? Any general thoughts on parenting or self-parenting?

I think of the dialogues as being between people, or the ones that I have created. It may be father and son, astronomer and nervous friend or any other variation. The dynamic is always similar: one person has a special knowledge and is ­consoling someone in need of guidance.

I’m currently working on a project with Tommy Hartung. We’ve been talking about using a disembodied voice via a shortwave radio. One issue that we’ve had is in how to keep the read of the voice as predominantly human without limiting other possibilities.

I didn’t originally think of the dialogue as as a self-parenting situation, but that read makes sense because of how minimally my characters are developed and how one-tracked/minded they may seem. They are almost the simplified representations of internal phases, but that’s also similar to the way that I make my stories, my sets and my scores. I always prefer the essential idea of something over its complex form.

The numbers you cite in your work, fall somewhere around your age—late 20’s to early 40’s. At one point you say, “I’m almost 35 now,” and at another you say, “The moon now hangs at 42. If we leave now, we might break through.” I’m reminded of Pink Floyd’s “No one told you when to run; you’ve missed the starting gun.” Am I right in guessing that your work depicts progress in relation to age?

I have never thought of it in relation to my work, but there absolutely is a thematic connection. You often hear a similar theme in hip-hop, and in social utopian philosophy, especially in that of Charles Fourier. As different as these forms may be, they all discuss a very similar thing: an escape from our current existence of oppression into a new world. Within hip-hop, it’s a world of lawlessness and extravagance. Fourier sees a refined way of labor and life. Waters and Gilmour don’t really depict a result, only the idea of leaving.

I did try to keep the numbers near the 30s to imply planetary alignment; a sign for the right time to act, but it is a coincidence that it corresponded to my age or ages. Beyond my age of 35, which will happen in the year 2012, the rest of the numbers were chosen because they rhymed with the words that I was using: 29 with time, 42 with through…
<br?

It seems like the title Leaving The Shed could indicate agoraphobia, shyness, alienation, and/or creative Insecurity. Do you personally struggle with any or all of these?

I have been accused of agoraphobia because I like to work in small spaces. For me, a small space holds the most potential for work and privacy. I think of the time that I’m making art as a hiding-out or as a retreat. My characters have a similar cocooning phase before their great idea or action. Also, within film, a small space (for me) alludes to the optimistic potential of a vast external space elsewhere.

I do have issues with alienation and creative insecurity. It’s part of being an artist.

Do you think you would enjoy actual space travel? Are you fascinated with the real thing, or just the metaphor?

I would not at all want to space travel. I have to make artwork. I am interested in science and technological advancements and space travel fits into that. In The Astronomer, I never thought of their destination as outer space, it is only that a cosmological sign prompted their journey. For me, their destination was an area that they could carve out within a space that has already been scripted with its own order. The optimistic aspect is that they would be able to live independently from, and simultaneously within, this scripted order.

Do you think the world is going to end in 2012?

Two big events are supposed to happen around that time: a giant solar flare and the flipping of the Earth’s magnetic poles. Scientists say that it could be devastating; but my answer is no, I do not think that the world is going to end. The sense of foreboding in my work is coming from my own observations of our current economic and social conditions. Within this nation, I predict a future of class division that will be several times more severe than what is currently occurring. It’s the nature of late capitalism emmeshed with corporatism. I’m not here to fight it or to change it. As an artist, I can only present it and propose questions. Any answers are fantastic renditions.

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Tags: Art, outer space, modern, The Works, TBA 2010, TBA, five questions, 5 questions, Film, music, Ronnie Bass