Arts, Media & Culture News with 'tude
The widespread episodes of pro-Palestinian antisemitism on American college campuses calls to mind an old blogpost about European antisemitism.
“I find it shameful,” Fallaci begins, “that in Italy there should be a procession of individuals dressed as suicide bombers who spew vile abuse at Israel, hold up photographs of Israeli leaders on whose foreheads they have drawn the swastika, incite people to hate the Jews. …”
The New York gallerist James Fuentes is presenting Elsa Rensaa’s paintings in a two-part exhibition: OUT OF THE WILDERNESS AND INTO THE BLUE. “Her paintings, rendered with meticulous applications of thin acrylic washes,” he says, “bring forth lush, syncretic visual portals. They draw from a vast and visionary range of references, including Ancient Nordic, Egyptian, and Eastern imagery, in addition to Renaissance, Art Nouveau, and Dada art movements, with a Lower East Side iconography that is distinctly recognizable as Rensaa’s own.”
Thirty-one years after its founding, Other Minds, the brainchild of Charles Amirkhanian and Jim Newman, is still going strong as a presenter of experimental contemporary music with an emphasis on “the most original, eccentric, and underrepresented creative voices.” Here’s a presentation of Linda Bouchard and the Ensemble TriOcular+.
If I had been asked who would be the main attraction of Saturday night’s Carnegie Hall mashup between the poet and the composer, my guess would have been Amanda Gorman. I would not have guessed it would be the cellist Jan Vogler. As it turned out, however, his performance of three of Bach’s cello suites, more or less interrupted by Gorman’s rap-inflected poetry, made him the star of the show.
If ever there were a question that political posturing is show biz, Nikki Haley settled it at a rally in South Carolina. She was doing an anemic imitation of a mesmerizing George C. Scott in the opening scene of “Patton.” Missing were the medals and martial music, thank god, which contributed mightily to Scott’s classic performance. Of course Trump has been doing his stale imitation for years.
She’s also smoking a fag, as a Brit might say. Her touch — feathery and liquid both — is sublime. When I listen to her trills, I hear birds singing.
Dancing lights at night as photographed from the window.
That is a key question posed by Jascha Hannover’s “The Books He Didn’t Burn,” a documentary to be featured in its U.S premiere at the Jewish Film Festival on Jan. 15 at Lincoln Center in New York. Its relevance to the beliefs of today’s white supremacists and rightwing Christian nationalists is stunning.
‘… and yet to me what is this quintessence of dust?’
The end of the dismal year 2023 brings Hamlet’s soliloquy to mind.
The world Mark Terrill sees is “essentially forlorn, if not absurd, if not entirely hopeless. But his poetry is far from hopeless.” — Lawrence Ferlinghetti
‘My road to biography began at TIME magazine.’
He titled his lecture ‘Lessons About Living with Geniuses.’ His latest biography is about Elon Musk. His previous biographies were about Henry Kissinger, Benjamin Franklin, Albert Einstein, Steve Jobs, and Jennifer Doudna.
Recalling the first Trinity nuclear blast, which is being memorialized by the new Christopher Nolan film “Oppenheimer,” I couldn’t help thinking of the last collage that Norman O. Mustill made and his first using digital tools.
Jay Jeff Jones was born in in Albuquerque, New Mexico, in 1946. His parents, Nelson and Lila Fay Jones, both hailed from Cherokee ancestry. Raised in and around San Francisco, Jay joined the Hell’s Angels in the early 1960, riding his Harley Davidson around the city. As a teenager, he hung around North Beach, acting with the Mime Troupe, later working as a copy boy for the San Francisco Examiner. Frank Herbert, author of “Dune,” was one of his bosses.
Straight Up has moved house and is taking a vacation break.
Offered in tribute to the crew fighting for their lives in the depths of the Atlantic.
‘A man is looking into his past. Let’s see what he finds there.’ — William Cody Maher, poet / writer / performance artist
DANG MUSE
Dead silence from that hustler.
Perhaps she’s on a ghost ship
circling the moon.
If ever she lands
back here on earth, I’ll tell you.
