CULTUREPHILE: PORTLAND ARTS

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…
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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

phile under: TBA 2010

TTFN, TBA!

In-house PM Culture Blogger Anne Adams’ final notes.

Posted by: Anne Adams on Sep 22, 2010 at 12:00PM 2 Comments

On Sunday, I withstood a few minutes of Dan Gilsdorf’s Diabolus in Musica, watching singers in an outward-facing circle, each humming one note to maintain a single chord. As the serious singers ignored the viewers from close range, like Buckingham Palace guards, I basked in the heady dissonance. If (as 18th-century Catholicism contended) that chord is wrong, I don’t wanna be right. Even more transporting, were Blackfish ‘s understated strains of slide-guitar and loops of ambient noise. On a floor-cushion at Imago theater, I laid my head on my arms and dreamt of coasting through warm dark water. When the music faded, I bought a disc so I could conjure their black magic again. But if you’ll pardon the pun, I have a few more of my own closing notes to add:

Claudia La Rocco
Many thanks to my New-York-imported cohort Claudia La Rocco, not only for covering the other half of TBA, but for making me stretch my critical muscles to keep pace. Ms. La Rocco and I didn’t get a lot of down-time, but we were able to exchange perspectives on particular pieces and the art of arts writing in general. I’ve enjoyed reading Claudia’s reviews and hearing your comments about them, and through the collaboration, I’ve also learned more about my own motives and style. Claudia follows her own compass, and I hope I can continue to fine-tune mine.

Art Party
Kept hoping I could spin this into its own post, but there are only two things I want to say:
1) Light Asylum (most especially lead singer Shannon Funchess, also featured in Yemenwed) were especially boss and massive, creating that Laurie-Anderson-esque electrically-charged ambience that one obliquely associates with “New York performance art rock.”
2) Jenny Hoyston and Sarah Faith Gottesdiener must have a great little black book, and only an OK email list, because the talent they assembled should’ve wrangled more watchers. Next time Jenny very casually suggests you check something out— do so.

Yemenwed
Much of my time at The Works, was spent hunting the elusive Yemenwed. Four times when I tried to view it, the 45-odd-minute video sequence had crashed under its own weight, and the projector was inert. On Sunday I finally watched the whole thing—with my visiting parents. “World’s biggest metronome and frustrated lesbians,” my pragmatic dad summarized. I was too tired to argue. On further reflection, the animation (which features fanciful architecture and characters, unfolding around a metronome/obelisk) invites comparison to Luc Besson’s The Fifth Element, but with surprising overtones of Shamanism amid the super-futuristic tableau. And the performance piece features two young dancers in slightly poodle-esque costumes and postures, a hotel-room set, and various other elements that converge in a “you had to be there” arts moment that, while captured on film, still evades interpretation. Anyway, I can finally say I caught the Yemenwed. Inasmuch as that was possible.

The People’s Biennial
The display features everything from Lego creations, to soap carvings, to documentary film footage about bees. Does it make a statement about diversity, or is it too diffuse to make a statement at all? Here at PM, we’ve agreed that this merits more discussion, so we’re currently editing a slide show, and a list of a few interesting arts conundrums that come up when you view all these works, as one collection. Watch this space. The People’s Biennial has proven the hardest work to “wrap up.”

Drum Machine
This night evoked the most “Portland” feeling for me. Jane Paik’s regimented, asexual schoolroom dance piece (led by AEQUANIMITAS fashion-house ingenue Heather Treadway) perfectly embodied the hipster paradox: the fact that a seeming bunch of bored kids will fall into perfect formation and show complete wherewithal, the minute music is played. Later, a drum kit, draped in slinky white spandex by Sarah Johnson, billowed and rippled with every hit, offering the audience a rare view of the actual air that drum-playing can displace. As Johnson tightened the fabric around the ghostly drummer and kit, I sympathized with the noise restrictions often imposed on percussive practicers within a confined space. (Please pardon your neighborhood drummer’s noise; it’s the sound of freedom.)

German pop singer Gandalf Gavan, wearing furry robes and emoting through his flutey pipes, may as well have been a majestic elf prince. But for those who preferred sci-fi to fantasy, Ronnie Bass closed the night with a live performance of his video piece, The Astronomer, which had been on display at The Works throughout TBA. Cheers of recognition proved that the crowd was already fond of his sparse, trepidatious electronica-scored space-travel scenarios.

This performance by the pair in Philadelphia, pales in comparison to the TBA set, but gives you a general idea:

Allison Hallett
Ms. Hallett, Portland Mercury arts editor, got talking with me at The Works the other night. It took us a minute to place one another, at which point she blurted, “Oh my god. I just made fun of you on Twitter!” Apparently, Allison hates the way I’ve been using commas, and blasted me for it online. Fair enough. While I’ll try to be more mindful of this style peccadillo in the future, my main takeaway from the exchange was, “Hooray! Allison Hallett has been reading Culturephile!” Will Portland Monthly finally be removed from The Mercury’s “enemies” list? Maybe if I stick with the suggested program of punctuation reform.

Jasperse Dance
Shall I describe the emotions and scenarios that unfolded during Jasperse dance? The first half, on a black stage, tended variously toward the sexual, the kitschy, and the humorous. The second half, illuminated in white light on all sides, got serious—with depictions of prideful party personas, and a wrenching slow-motion fight sequence between a man and a woman. The faces of the pair rippled with the impact of the blows like so much white spandex. If the two parts of Truth, Revised Histories, Wishful Thinking, and Flat-Out Lies reference the private and the public sectors, Jasperse made a provocative choice by plunging humor in darkness, and bringing violence to light. But who can say? By all accounts, it was a surreal and engrossing Lynchian spectacle.

What else can I say? There was too much to see. I remain haunted and inspired, inundated—and, I’ll admit, pretty tired. Thanks, TBA. See you next year.

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Tags: music, Ronnie Bass

phile under: TBA 2010

TBA 2010:
Making the rounds at The Works

Here’s a sweeping overview of some of The Works’ gallery shows.

Posted by: Anne Adams on Sep 10, 2010 at 02:00PM 0 Comments

The People’s Biennial

A diverse and vibrant collection of works from not-necessarily-established artists, this jam-packed exhibit features everything from bizarre felt piñatas and wooden walking sticks, to large hand-and-footprint paintings created through the act of breakdancing. Video installations, photo exhibits, found art, kids’ art, and even ice cream signage, represent for their respective regions. Technicians, collectors, craftspeople and eccentric recluses, are all brought to light.

Storm Tharp
High House

Leisure, jade plants, and jaded ladies are some of the themes explored in Tharp’s multimedia exhibit.
Challenge: Spattered mirror flanked by a white and black flag, which say respectively, “Not the first time; not the last time.” Text piece that scathingly states, “ONVACATIONATWAR.”
Reward: A beautiful full-wall mural with pastel portraits of famous actresses—Judy Garland, Marilyn Monroe, Goldie Hawn—diverse in era and craft, but united by a certain worldliness.

Ruby Sky Stiler
Inherited And Borrowed Types

Ruby Sky Stiler will give you classic Greco-Roman nudes, but she makes you work for them. Slabby statuary reveals the forms in cubist 2-D pieces, rather than as a whole. Meanwhile, the wall is hung with collage pieces which basket-weave a page of text with a page of black-and-white image. Every now and again, a figure emerges. Often, the pictures are obscured by the words.

Jessica Jackson Hutchins
Children Of The Sunshine

Ever look at a grand piano and think, “wow, the top of that would make an excellent etching plate?” No? Then you’re not Jessica Jackson Hutchins, who apparently thought exactly that. Giant piano prints, along with the paint-ravaged objet, are put on display, and accompanied by a video installation which documents a long, exuberant multi-instrument livingroom jam session. “We are children of the sunshine,” the musicians sing. And children of the sunshine get to paint and print their pianos.

Charles Atlas
Tornado Warning

When something’s in the air, our machines are the first to know—launching into staticy, snowy, flickering freak-outs. In Tornado Warning, a big screen forebodes meteorological doom.

Christopher Miner
The Safest Place

The impact of the lone rotating astronaut at the center of this piece, is immeasurably enhanced by an endlessly echoing vocal soundscape. The mechanical regularity of the echoes supports the scientific side of space travel, even as the reedy human tones bespeak the loneliness of a displaced soul.

Ronnie Bass
2012 and The Astronomer, Part 1: Departure From Shed

Ronnie Bass’s pieces are hypnotic, sparse—and simultaneously lulling and uneasy. Bass seems to cast himself as both father and son in his stark, laconic video pieces. Over a slow electronica soundscape, Bass The Father attempts to sooth the anxiety of Bass The Son. Yet it’s unclear whether the challenge is overcoming agoraphobia, or undertaking space-travel.

For more information on TBA events, visit PICA. A more comprehensive list of upcoming events can be found at our Arts & Entertainment Calendar.

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Tags: TBA, TBA 2010, The Works, Storm Tharp, Ronnie Bass, life drawing