Showing posts with label cinema. Show all posts
Showing posts with label cinema. Show all posts

Tuesday, June 19, 2012

Things for You to Do

by Robert Boyd

We don't run a art calendar here at Pan because calendars are a pain in the ass to put together. (A tip of the hat to Glasstire, which puts together an ever-updating calendar for the whole state.) But sometimes there are blink-and-you'll-miss-them events that deserve to a heads up.



This Thursday, go see Tribulation 99: Alien Anomalies Under America at CAMH (7:30 pm, but get there early as there is limited seating). As the trailer suggests, this movie is utterly bananas, in the best possible way.

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Then on July 28, the Houston Arts Resource Fair is taking place at St. Thomas University. This is a day-long event providing seminars and talks aimed at helping arts organizations get their shit together. Sounds like a great opportunity for networking and learning what it takes to run a successful art organization.



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Friday, November 11, 2011

!Women Art Revolution

by Robert Boyd



Lynn Hershman Leeson speaking after the showing of !Women Art Revolution

Last night I saw !Women Art Revolution, a documentary by Lynn Hershman Leeson, which compiles video of feminist artists taken by Hershman since 1967. She's been videotaping interviews with these artists continually and has literally thousands of hours of interviews. In a sense, this film is an adjunct to the video, which is an amazing database of information about feminist art. And you can see it online--Hershman donated the video to Stanford University, who have made some of the video accessible online. (I wonder if making the video accessible online is an ongoing project--if so, they have made a good start but have a long way to go.)

The movie has a somewhat confused structure. In part, it is chronological--the origins of feminist art is located in the 1960s. The film is clear on placing this art within the social movements of the 60s and in opposition to the apolitical, contentless art of minimalism. This is something that is key and will come up later in terms of art history.

Hershman places her own story within the context of the larger topic, including discussing how she wrote fake reviews of her work under three pseudonyms, got them published, and used them to get her first gallery shows. Her point was that because she was a woman, it was hard for galleries to take her work seriously, so she had to engage in this ruse. Without knowing the specific circumstances and galleries, it's hard to judge how true that is--I mean, any young artist without a gallery, male or female, finds it hard to get a gallery. (Old artists, too!) Nonetheless, her clever tactic worked, but more important, it actually prefigured some of her subsequent work in which she took on a fictional identity (so well, in fact, that her alter ego had better credit than she did). All this is interesting, but it stops the movie dead whenever she talks about her own art. It's tricky to make a movie that is simultaneously about an art movement and about oneself.

The movie moves into the early seventies, when feminist art really took off as a thing. Judy Chicago becomes a major figure, not only for her own art, but also for her founding and cofounding several programs in feminist art. The funny thing about this section is you see that Chicago wasn't good at keeping these programs going--the details are never spelled out, but you get the idea that there were fallings out with her collaborators. That said, lots of interesting artists and thinkers came through Chicago's programs. The movie also discussed A.I.R.--Artists in Residence, a non-profit women's art gallery founded in 1972. Probably the two most famous artists in A.I.R. were Nancy Spero and Ana Mendieta.

The way I'm describing the movie makes it seem much more narrative than it is. While there is a general sense of time passing (60s-70s-80s), !Women Art Revolution veers off into discussions of different media that were pioneered by these artists (particularly performance and video) and different subject matters. It touches on controversies (particularly Congress discussing The Dinner Party and later the revocation of certain N.E.A. grants in the 80s), but mostly keeps it focused on the artists and what they were doing.

The film portrays the 80s as a period of cultural retrenchment--Reagan, the NEA, and the Guerrilla Girls. But it also makes the point that this was the moment when women art stars came to the fore--Cindy Sherman, Barbara Kruger and Jenny Holzer. The Guerrilla Girls are interviewed at length, and their clever, fact-filled graphics about the percentage of women in galleries and museums is recognized. The film suggests that they had to be anonymous because of the danger to their professions if they became known, and wraps that up into the general sense of 80s reaction. But to me, what we have with the Guerrilla Girls is moving beyond feminists addressing other feminists (for example, consciousness raising) which was very common in the 70s to feminists addressing everybody in the art world, whether they were self-identified as feminist or not. When they pointed out how few female artists there were in the Museum of Modern Art, their intended audience were the curators, directors and trustees of MOMA. And perhaps even more important, future curators, directors and trustees. Because as the movie pointed out, trustees--particularly women trustees--have gradually pushed for more women in permanent collections.

The battle between feminist art and minimalism reaches a gruesome apotheosis in 1985. Ana Mendieta, whose work dealt with identity, gender, and the body--obviously important fields for feminist art--was married to one of the key minimalist artists, Carl Andre. Mendieta fell from a 34th floor window on September 8, after an argument with Andre. Andre said he was not in the room when she fell. Andre was tried for murder, and many artists contributed to his legal defense (the film specifies male artists, but I don't know if his supporters were exclusively male). This outraged women artists, and they picketed the trial. Andre was acquitted, which increased their outrage.

The film concludes with the success (one might say triumph) of feminist art, including its institutionalization. Hershman discusses how her own work is now in the collection of MOMA and the Tate, and that she was able to finance this film. She interviews younger feminist artists who have received MacArthur grants. She discusses WACK!, the huge survey of feminist art at the Museum of Contemporary Art in Los Angeles. And perhaps the most amusing parts of the film were excerpts of an interview with Marcia Tucker, the first female curator at the Whitney Museum who later founded the New Museum. Tucker proved that a feminist could create a lasting art institution.

But the most powerful statement--and the most revisionist--was by Martha Rosler. She stated that feminism was the most important art movement in recent history, and pointed out that art historians and critics still tried to split all these artists up into an art history based on style (minimalism, post-minimalism, conceptualism, neo-expressionism, whatever) or medium (performance, video, etc.), when the most logical grouping was by ideology (feminism). This rings really true--they way you read about these artists is as members of different movements as opposed to all being part of the same movement, the feminist art movement.

I've read most of the WACK! catalog, and now I've seen this film. What I would really like to read would be a good narrative history of feminist art. Who did what when, written in a down-to-earth warts-and-all style. (I hate to admit it, but I'd like to know how Judy Chicago managed to piss off so many of her colleagues in the early 70s, for example.) But that's just me--the art world tends to prefer more high-level art histories, as well as more theoretical texts. Story-telling and reportage are frowned upon for some reason.

Although it's not without faults, I recommend !Women Art Revolution highly. It will be showing again in Houston in February, 2112, at the MFAH.


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Wednesday, October 19, 2011

The Must-See Movies at the Cinema Arts Festival

by Robert Boyd

The third annual Cinema Arts Festival's schedule has been released, and among its many interesting items are a few movies that I personally consider must-see movies. Here are my recommendations:

!Women Art Revolution by Lynn Hershman. I first heard about this documentary on feminist art two years ago at the Cinema Arts Festival when Hershman was a guest. It's gotten somewhat mixed reviews, but I think it's going to be a crucial film--Hershman has been filming interviews with key feminist artists since the late 60s or early 70s--basically banking the footage for decades. So what I'm expecting is to be seeing interviews with people like Carolee Schneemann, Miriam Schapiro and Judy Chicago right at the beginnings of their careers--in the heat of the moment, so to speak. A must for anyone who is interested in the history of art since the 60s.

Crazy Horse by Frederick Wiseman. Kind of the polar opposite of !Women Art Revolution is this documentary about the creation of a floor show at Paris's famous strip-tease club, Crazy Horse. Frederick Wiseman is, of course, one of the great documentarians, whose work includes Titicut Follies and Welfare.

Trimpin by Peter Esmonde. In the early 90s, I lived in Seattle and often checked out the local art happenings at the Center on Contemporary Art. The director was my friend Larry Reid, and the shows he put on were real crowd-pleasers (and opening nights at COCA were the hottest tickets in town). It was at COCA that I first encountered Trimpin, a German sound artist who lived in Seattle at that time (and maybe still does, for all I know). The first Trimpin piece I saw (and heard) was a room full of wooden shoes, arranged in a grid, hanging from the ceiling. You could walk through the grid among the shoes. Each show had a small electric motor inside that would bang a clacker against the inside of the shoe. The motors were controlled by a computer. So in effect, these shoes--hundreds of them--were a gigantic computer-controlled percussion instrument that you could immerse yourself in. Who wouldn't want to see a documentary about the guy who created that?

Free Radicals: A History of Experimental Film by Pip Chodorov. Another interesting looking art-history film. When I first saw the title, I thought it was going to be a film about Nick Cooper's band, which would have been cool. But this sounds fantastic--interviews with people like Michael Snow, Ken Jacobs and Stan Brackage, including some complete shorts by some of these filmmakers. One thing that interests me especially is that the film discusses the filmmaker's status of being neither fish nor fowl--neither commercial filmmakers nor part of the art world as it was then constituted. This is an issue I think about a lot, especially in regards to people who make art comics--which currently occupy a similar no-man's land that the experimental filmmakers did in earlier decades.

Over Your Cities Grass Will Grow by Sophie Fiennes. With a title like that, one could be excused for imagining an unusually poetic post-apocalyptic science fiction movie. Instead, this is a documentary about Anselm Kiefer and the "city" he is building. But perhaps the initial impression isn't so wrong. The photos I've seen make La Ribaute, Kiefer's estate, look very much like a bizarre post-modern ruin. As an artist whose work has dealt so much with destruction (particularly the destruction of Europe and European Jewry in the second world war), this project seems apt and the film sounds fascinating.

Pieter Breugel
Pieter Breugal, The Procession to Calvary, 1564


The Mill and the Cross by Lech Majewski. The only fiction film among my "must-sees", this nonetheless has an art angle--a highly unusual one. The film is based on the painting The Procession to Calvary by Pieter Bruegel (1564). Essentially Majewski enters the crowded image to tell the stories of the people pictured (and there are hundreds of people depicted). The stills look spectacular--I'm hoping the film lives up to the images I've seen.



The Mill and the Cross
Lech Majewski, still from The Mill and the Cross, 2011


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Friday, January 28, 2011

Vik Muniz's Waste Land


Vik Muniz in the Jardim Gramacho

Last night I saw Waste Land, the documentary about artist Vik Muniz spending two years in the Jardim Gramacho, the world's largest landfill (the place where Rio de Janeiro's trash goes). He worked with a group of garbage pickers for an art project. When I think of Vik Muniz, I think of a guy who draws pictures with really unusual pigments. Chocolate syrup, for example.


Vik Muniz, cover of Tribalistas, 2002

This was the cover of an album by a Brazilian supergroup, Tribalistas (Marisa Monte, Arnaldo Antunes, Carlinhos Brown). I'm listening to it right now to get in the mood to write this.

Vik Muniz has never been my favorite Brazilian artist. (That honor belongs to Ernesto Neto.) There is something kind of gimmicky about his work. Look, not only can I draw pretty good, but I can do it in chocolate! I call this kind of art "stunt art."

Despite my judgment, Muniz is about the most successful Brazilian artist in the world. But he was feeling a bit alienated from his success. A guy from a lower middle class background who manage by a combination of luck, hard work, and talent to become a rich, successful artist--you start to think about the people left behind. The people who didn't have your luck or your talent. So he decided to work with the garbage pickers, to see if he could create a project that would help them in some way.

 
Sebastiao Carlos dos Santos (aka Tiaõ) posing as David's Marat in a bathtub picked out of the garbage

Among the people he chose for his project was Tiaõ (in my experience, virtually every Brazilian I have ever known has some nickname. Tiaõ's real name is Sebastiao Carlos dos Santos). He runs an association of garbage pickers that negotiates prices with recyclers. Garbage picking is a disgusting job, but it is an actual job--these guys are going through and picking up recyclable materials, removing tons of garbage every day. Tiaõ is a self-made politician--he set up the Association of Recycling Pickers at Jardim Gramacho from scratch. The president of Brazil, Luiz Inácio da Silva (Lula), started out in a similar way, so who knows where Tiaõ will end up. I think Muniz probably figured that the best way to help the pickers was to help someone who was already doing a lot to help them. Using his "Marat" photograph of Tiaõ, Muniz created an enormous portrait made of garbage and dirt.



Vik Muniz, looking down on Tiaõ as Marat


(This is, of course, based on David's 1793 painting, The Death of Marat.)



Jacques Louis David, Death of Marat, 1793


Muniz also worked with other pickers and made a whole series of garbage portraits.


portrait of Magna in progress


Once he was done making each portrait (with the help of the pickers, who he hired to be assistants), he would take enormous Polaroid prints of them. Some of these he sold at auction in London. He brought Tiaõ along. There is a funny scene where he is discussing it with his staff, whether he should bring Tiaõ. Their main argument seems to be "How you gonna keep them on the farm once they've seen Paree?" Muniz brutally slaps down the self-evident elitism of that argument. Still, Tiaõ is overwhelmed and weeps uncontrollably when his portrait sells for 45,000 pounds (which he gets and plows back into the picker's association).


Waste Land is a moving, powerful movie. I still think Muniz is kind of a stunt artist, but this project was incredible. 


Waste Land was nominated for an Oscar, as was Banksy's Exit Through the Gift Shop. I wonder how often visual art documentaries have been nominated before, much less two in one year?


 


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