The Skunkeye Consumer Guide

I went to see artist Nikki S. Lee speak last night. She charmed the packed house. I hadn’t realized she was KOREAN Korean (not Korean American), that she has only been in the US since 1994, and also that she is from a rural part of Korea. I must admit I was a bit of a sceptic when I first encountered her work - the Cindy Sherman thing has been done to death and I had my fill of Asian American-awarenes type education in college. Lee is actually very forthright and down to earth and I must say very brave. The amount of preparation, research, time, and work she puts into her projects is formidable.
It’s a Friday and I’m beat, so instead of waxing on about the lecture, here’s a link to her artist’s statement.
The Hirshhorn recently acquired several of her works and they are on display upstairs. She currently has a solo show at the Numark Gallery here in DC. Article about the exhibit after the jump.

The Man is away and the office has been particularly tedious, so I’ve been taking some nice art breaks. Yesterday I went to see a short film, Jim Dine: Childhood Stories at the National Gallery of Art. Very illuminating and heartfelt – I highly recommend (its playing through the Saturday at 12:30 in the auditorium). Also catch the wonderful Jim Dine drawings before they close on August 1!

Today I visited Gabriel Orozco: Extension of Reflection at the Hirshhorn. I was pleased that the show was in a more expansive space rather than the usual Directions gallery. The work reminded me of walking along the shore, especially after a storm, and marveling at washed up debris, marooned sea life, puddles, new sand formations and altered landscape. Fascinates me to no end. I miss the beach.

September maybe?

Lord I need a vacation!

The Hirshhorn curators have installed some new Gyroscope rooms. I could live in the Joan Mitchell room. Stunning.

After a nice brunch this weekend, MJ and I caught Imelda at Visions. The experience was trippy for me for a variety of reasons. My family has been associated with the Philippines since the time of the Marcos ouster, when my father was on the Philippine desk, and the saga is very familiar to me. We have been posted there twice and I recently spent several years living and working in Manila.

I think the director, Ramona Diaz, did a good job of highlighting key events and issues – a sort of “Imelda for Beginners.” The saga, which is still ongoing, is very convoluted and confusing, with all sorts of family and political allegiances and squabbles made all the more murky and speculative through the Filipino national pastime of tsismis (gossip). And the US government enabled the Marcos regime until just before the very end so we Americans aren’t really in any position to pass judgement on their excesses and crimes. This screening was packed and as far as we could tell, MJ was the only Filipina in the audience.

Watching the film, I must admit I felt a bit nostalgic listening to the heavy Filipino accents and idioms, watching the footage of Manila and the provinces, and remembering those bizarre fun nights in Malacanang. MJ and I laughed a lot actually. But I also took comfort in knowing that I was removed from some of the craziness, the disparity between the wealthy and the poor, the corruption, and the more frustrating aspect of Philippine society.

It was also bizarre seeing people I know, some very well and some in passing, being interviewed on the big screen. Diaz wise not to go the Michael Moore route and editorialize and instead let the subject, Imelda speak for herself. Critics have said that the filmmaker may have become too absorbed and smitten with Mrs. Marcos. Believe, its easy to let that happen, Imelda is larger than life and has an inescapable charismatic aura. I used to have to hide from her at events! And I think the film really conveyed what a delusional, wacko interior world Imelda inhabits, how, in her mind, her excesses are justified and are part of a natural, spiritual order.

I was first introduced to Imelda Marcos at a wake for a friend’s father. Imelda was sitting at the table with the wife and some children of the deceased. She told me:

“You know, the good thing about being dead is that you never have to grow older.”

Everything is samo-samo in Skunkeyeland so I thought I’d polish off a few summer music recommendations this Friday afternoon:

Apparently the honeymoon ain’t over yet for Benjamin Biolay and wife/current muse actress Chiara Mastrioanni (lovechild of Catherine Deneuve and the late Marcello Mastroianni). On the heels last year’s epic folkfest, Negatif, arrives a more stripped down side project, Home. It’s the Gallic equivalent to the Britta Phillips (Jem!) & Dean Wareham (Luna) project L'Avventura and Benjamin and Chiara are even more self-involved and sickeningly in love. A “personal road movie” of-sorts, I find it perhaps too intimate. Or maybe I’m just jealous thiking of them making love by the fireplace. Home does away with most of Biolay’s trademark sumptuous arrangements in favor of a more folksy, well, “home-y” production. Although they take on cannabis in L’Apologie, tales of prison life in Folle De Toi and an exploration of post-9/11 America on L’Arizona, the album basically is about how crazy in love they are. Biolay comes his closest ever to Gainsbourg, even name-checking him in the track Un Problème , relying more on clever wordplay and a sensually heightened male/female dynamic. Chiara Mastrioanni has evolved from the ninetie’s quirky young ingenue into full throttle gamine – not surprising, given her lineage. And her singing isn’t that bad either, gamely switching into a second language for A House Is Not A Home, She’s My Baby and Dance Rock N’Roll (insipid English lyrics are a requisite on French pop albums). Biolay is one of the most talented songwriters/producers/arrangers around; check out Home if you are a fan.

While we’re on a French kick, for those of you who enjoyed the Cafe De Flore: Rendez-Vous a Saint-Germain-des-Pres compilation, the follow-up is now out. Fetiche: The French Classic Rendez-Vous is heavier on the schmaltz and not as satisfying. Yeah, its pretty gay with tracks from Diana Ross (channeling Billie), Marc Almond (singing Brel), and a truly awful 1980’s europop track from Ute Lemper. But the purchase is worth it alone for Helen Merrill’s haunting and smoldering Pierre, living legend Abbey Lincoln’s Avec le Temps, and of course Brenda Lee’s classic take on Piaf, If You Love Me (Really Love Me).

I really want to really like The Concretes, I really do. I dig the concept, their art direction, their video and they appeal to my Scandinavian roots. However, Sweden's The Concrete’s eponymous album just sounds like 1991 rehashed to me (actually most young up and coming bands these days appear to be master plagiarizers). In the Concretes’ mixer: Galaxie 500, Yo La Tengo, The Pastels, Jesus & Mary Chain, The Primitives, Mazzy Star, and even a bit of Transvision Vamp, if you can believe it. Actually, any fuzzy, jangley Velvets-inspired band of the late eighties/early nineties, come to think of it. Not a bad sound but I’ve heard it all before. Moe Tucker should be proud. Also, lead singer needs some serious sinus medication.

Now onto something truly original… I FINALLY got a hold of Lhasa de Sela’s latest, The Living Road. If you aren’t familiar with her music, which is likely since she has gotten zero promotion in the United States, think a world music PJ Harvey. Lhasa is probably best known here for her duet with the Tindersticks (whose catalogue is currently being reissued), but in Canada and France, she is huge. The Living Road expands on her breathtaking debut and is even more varied. She’s a multi-lingual drama queen (singing in Spanish, French, English, and Portuguese), and wildly original. Backed by south-of-the border brass, slinky percussion, steel guitar, accordion, mariachi, majestic strings and piano, Lhasa gives European art song a fervant Mexican edge. Outstanding and intense.

Oh, and my usual minor claim to fame as I sit in this dull office, keyboard gently weeping, fingers tap-tapping…. Just learned that a batch mate has been signed on to score the new Richard Linklater (Dazed & Confused, Before/Beyond Sunset)film, an animated (a la Waking Life) adaptation of Philip K. Dick’s A Scanner Darkly with Keanu Reeves, Winona Ryder, Robert Downey Jr., and Woody Harrelson. Big congrats, Graham!

That’s it for now, have a nice weekend.

Finally… Dreams That Breathe Your Name by The Elysian Fields is available in the US as a non-import. I’ve had the European release for some time now and it never strays far from my player. The Elysian Fields produce some of the sexiest music around. Folks might know Jennifer Charles, who is a local girl by the way, from Dan the Automator’s brilliant Nathaniel Merriweather presents Lovage. This band has been one of my favorites for ages and I’ve seen them live often throughout the years. They are much appreciated in Europe and have been touring mostly there so I don’t know if the band will be visiting DC any time soon. This is a group that should have been huge but unfortunately got signed during the boom of the nineties and got lost in the shuffle – they have a whole album in limbo in the vaults tied up in legal shit. Here is a very nice fan site, Black Acres. Oren Bloedow and Jennifer Charles are staples of the downtown NYC/Knitting Factory scene and have collaborated with John Zorn, Medeski, Maritin, & Wood, Firewater, Joan Wasser (Dambuilders, Antony & the Johnsons), Ed Pastorini, Mike Patton, Steve Albini and other avant luminaries. Their side project of Shepardic music, La Mar Enfortuna, on Tzadic is beautiful and amazing. They still have copies at Melody Records in the Jewish/Klezmer/Radical Jewish Cuture section. Amazing, globe-trekking exploration of the crossroads of Jewish musical tradition, expanding to North Africa and Spain and the Balkans and beyond. So get it. Also, I've seen it at Borders.
Oren also has two solo albums that are worth checking out (hard to find) and are a departure from The Elysian Field’s sound. Word is they are working on an album of jazz/torch covers – Jennifer just oozes sultry. Their cover of Gainsbourg "Les Amours Perdues" was used in a pivotal scene in Lea Pool's Emporte Moi. And their version of Marc Bolan's "Life's a Gas" is sublime. This new release, Dreams That Breathe Your Name is breathtaking, smart, sassy, honeysuckled, rhythm-throbbing, and a slow-burning tour de force. The ultimate seduction soundtrack. Essential. I cannot recommend The Elysian Fields enough.

photo © John Aston 1962 , via colinrobinson.com

The Guardian recently ran a thoughtful profile of the late artist Pauline Boty in conjunction with the Tate’s current exhibition, Art and the 60s: This was Tomorrow. I would really like to see that show! The British pop artists were a huge influence on my work in high school, especially Peter Blake and Richard Hamilton. I continue to be fascinated by the evolutions of David Hockney - he represents an artist in the truest sense of word. Although I've never dabbled in photography, David Bailey is my god. This weekend at my grandmother’s house I found my copy of a now out of print book, The Only Blonde in the World: Pauline Boty. When I looked at my slides, also uncovered this weekend, from my portfolio at the time, I realized just how much Boty’s imagery and style informed my work. Some enterprising visionary director should make a biopic about her - the beautiful “Wimbledon Bardot” - what a fascinating, productive, and tragicly brief life!
Speaking of art, on Friday I went to see a friend’s work at the opening of a group show. I won’t say what gallery because the show, with the exception of F’s two pieces (honestly! His work is good), was more mediocre than Pandamania! It was all figurative work, ostensibly from studio models, although I seriously doubt it given the highly stylized cartoony and fetishist nature of many submissions. And this show was at a “respected” gallery! I applaud and encourage any artistic effort, especially since I’m a lazy ass, but this collection – not to mention the fashion sense of the attendees - was pretty cringe-inducing and depressing and I started sinking in DC loathing.

It was good to see my friends though!

Prior to the opening, since it was in Georgetown, I stole out early from work and tried to see Anchorman. I really needed a mindless laugh. Unfortunately, the summer interns had beat me to it and bought up all the tickets. Sold out. So instead I saw the perfectly agreeable Spiderman 2 (I really liked the opening credits with the Alex Ross montage) but not what I was craving. Also there were a lot of talkative toddlers in the audience. Parents, this is not acceptable. So I caught an early show of Anchorman yesterday. I dunno, maybe my energy was off, or maybe the chi and yingyang was unbalanced in the theater, cos nobody seemed to be laughing much. To be honest, I was a bit thrown off by Christina Applegate. Now, I’m a huge admirer of Applegate’s under-appreciated comedic talent and timing and am convinced she would be great in a serious dramatic role if somebody gave her a chance. What bothered me about her performance in Anchorman was that from the get-go she seemed to be channeling Jennifer Anniston. That bugged the shit out of me. Seriously.

I’ve seriously been into cooking over the last couple of weeks. My fruit man has been offering plenty of tempting fresh summer vegetables. Cooking has definitely helped to keep my mind off of things and stay busy. Home-brewed Vietnamese Iced Coffee is the new crack. Try it, you'll see.

Housemate D had a birthday so I made a huge meal of paella and chorizo and rattatouille for him. Told him way in advance he could bring who ever he wanted. Its funny, for someone who regularly abandons gainful employment to attend to his social priorities and obligations, The Black Party, The White Party, Cherry, et all, D seemed very alone on his birthday.

Cos it was just the two of us at the table.

This weekend I made tons and tons of Bibingka My secret is using Vermont maple syrup instead of processed sugar. (I was hopped up on Vietnamese Iced Coffee). I intended to bring it into the office but I wolfed it all (comfort food) watching the Very Special Edition of Trading Spaces: Inside Out. The call was irresistible. I needed to see how these “designers” actually live when they aren’t out further crappifying America.

I needed to know if Hildi Santo Tomás’ stubborn and stupefying penchant for plastic flower and hay wall-applique extended to her glamorous Paris digs. Somebody please take the glue-gun away from her, she is a moron. (We learn she’s married to a much older Frenchman, who maintains that Hildi is always “stress-sed,” and he apparently speaks to her Spanish – she is Cuban, after all. Tres international. And convenient – she butchers “baguette” and “Les Champs-Elysées.” The digs are tasteful in a typical Paris apartment way. She has a huge Pluto collection - even more than she has shoes she says - further evidence of brain-damage.)

I was dying to actually see the “wife” Frank takes every opportunity to mention on the show. Everyone knows he is a big ho-mo (on this special episode he went on and on about how handsome Carter is). We also learn that he used to be an aerobics instructor a la Richard Simmons. We meet his wife back in Texas (she apparently “changed him.” I smell an Ex-Gay Christian thing.) Perky Mindy Paige Davis Page said that Frank and his wife have been like parents to her. Figures… she’s married to a Gay too. Oh, and viewers are encourage to visit the Big Apple to catch her in Chicago.
We also visit Genevieve in Barcelona (she was an exchange student there and still is close with the family. She finds design inspiration in Barcelona fishmarkets. Kinda refreshing actually). I took comfort in knowing that disaster Kia’s very own Philly home is a showcase for her atrocious design and nightmare art projects and is actually much worse than anything she has inflicted on partcipant's houses. Doug is a twat in real life too. The cast and crew went on and on about Edward being a gentleman but I find him creeeepy. Amy Wynn takes pride in being inspiration for budding girl carpenters. I’m not familiar with designers Barry and Laura Day but they seem innocuous and interchangeable. I’d also never seen this Faber Dewar but he seems way too talented (his Asian inspired furniture is quite handsome, he even uses wooden pegs instead of nails), intelligent (marine-biologist), and classy (he strives for quality in his work rather than just slapping together MDF) for this joint. Why is he slumming? The episode was framed by an actual New York renovation (hard to get permits in the city the producers maintain. Um, most New Yorkers have better taste.) Tina Fey stopped by. She is, apparently, a fan.

Finally getting around to posting… had a quiet July Fourth weekend and been pretty occupied by work and other matters.
Watching the fireworks from the Country House, my grandmother’s home on top of the hill, I noticed much the trees have grown over the years, obscuring my usual vantage points. When I was much younger we could even see the fireworks from inside through the wall-sized living room window. The trees have long since blocked that view but we can still step outside and watch from the top of the street.
I remember how exciting the Fourth of July fireworks were to me when I was younger, particularly because they were a part of my brief tastes of America on summer holiday visits.
Now I’m rather blasé about them. This year they seemed to be especially monotonous. And this year I couldn’t return inside and report the scene to my grandmother, who has long since given up going out to see the display in the summer heat, preferring to watch the telecast performance. And she enjoys the music, which you can’t hear from up on the hill.
Well, I thought of her over in her new home, hopefully enjoying them. A few of the neighbors (the group gets sparser with each year) gathered at the top of the hill inquired about her and reminisced how until a little over a year ago they would still see her weeding out in her yard.
And I must say I had a pretty “mature” Independence Day. Spent the day trying to salvage my City House garden from the torrential rains and cleaning the house (the downstairs is now tidy and spotless! Hello Architectural Digest, you can do your shoot now!). After heading out to Virginia to check on the Country House, made myself a healthy dinner of veal and summer squash and drank homemade fresh fruit smoothies (instead of beer) all day.
On Saturday I took a dear family friend to visit my grandmother. She was FULL of stories that day. Some were remarkable in their clarity and attention to detail and some where so left-of-center and out there I couldn’t help but be amused (the lapses no longer disturb me). The friend, I think, was a bit startled by my grandmother’s condition and the changes since she last saw her a year ago. Again, I’ve gotten used to the way things are now over the last couple of weeks.
Christ, this is turning into a “my grandmother is ill” blog!!! Please. stop. now.
I also took an unexpected road trip in a vintage convertible Miata! So exhilarating. Just what the doctor ordered for me!

I couldn’t resist seeing Before Sunset. I’m not a huge fan of the original movie, Before Sunrise, partly because I never cared for Ethan Hawke. His Gen X poster boy/neo beatnik posturing makes me feel barfy. I met him once when he was doing a reading. A friend of mine was handling some sort of PR for him and he was hawking his first novel and I showed up out of curiosity. He looked pretty scuzzy. So did Uma, who came along. I’ve always liked her though, despite Ethan. She bummed a cigarette from me, wearing a strange knit hat, and kept rocking back and forth oddly. I did really enjoy Gattaca though. The score is really beautiful and haunting too.
Without going into the film too much (Missy already did an excellent job, as usual), I must say I really enjoyed Before Sunset. It was pitch perfect and very natural. Ethan’s smarminess worked in his character’s favor. The film is particularly resonating for those who saw the first film nine years ago and are roughly in the same age range as that pair. Brilliant use (and evocation) of Nina Simone’s “Just in Time.” Julie Delpy was very, very good. Just a word of warning though, if you were charmed Delpy’s bedroom performance of that self-penned waltz in the film (as I admittedly was), stay clear recently released solo album. What I’ve sampled is unfortunately laughable and pretty godawful. I’m jus sayin… I do respect her earnestness though. She’s better just with an acoustic guitar, believe me!

Also, do check out Les Égarés (Strayed) before it leaves town. Slipping into an Andre Téchiné film, especially on a hot summer day, is truly one of life’s finer pleasures. Les Roseaux sauvages, (Wild Reeds) Les Voleurs, and Ma Saison Préférée were some of my best cinematic experiences in the 90s. All the familiar themes of Téchiné’s world are revisited, sexual undercurrents in languid pastoral places, coming-of-age, class issues, and lurking danger. Jean Genet devotees will appreciate some of the undertones in Les Égarés. Emmanuelle Béart is still devastatingly beautiful and amazing just to watch. Gaspard Ulliel gives a real breakthrough performance playing Yvan, a mysterious drifter who shares a romantic idyll with Beart in the French countryside during World War Two. Believe me, he’s next year’s hot French import – he’s playing opposite Audrey Tautou in Jean-Pierre Jeunet’s Amelie follow-up Un Long Dimanche de Fiançailles.

My Brando claim to fame (scroll down). I also worked briefly with one of his daughters. A true iconoclast - so many memorable performances.

I’ve fallen way behind on cinema experiences lately due to family circumstance over the last couple of months, but I did manage to see Fahrenheit 9/11 the other night. I must say I was a bit distracted during the screening – some couple brought their noisy infant. Dunno, I couldn’t stand to watch some of the more disturbing footage so I can’t imagine the impact it will have on that poor kid. Hopefully she will grow up to be an informed voter at least. There’s so much discussion about the film going on everywhere and all the time I’m not going to try and dissect it. I will say it offered further illustration of why so many Americans like myself have been disenchanted over the last couple of years and how our foreign policy under this administration has been disastrous. Less Michael Moore and fewer stunts worked in the documentary’s favor. This film probably won’t change the attitudes of extreme right wingers, but I hope it reaches those who are undecided and indifferent and prompts them to vote. Farenheit 9/11 is success in my opinion because it has prompted so much discussion and dialogue.

I’ve been keeping to myself lately. It actually doesn’t really bother me that much I’m perfectly fine doing things on my own and its easier that way. The hospital and visiting my grandmother have things pretty busy and I’m pretty drained most of the time. And hearing about other people having fun just sorta pisses me off. And I have little tolerance for other people’s “same old story” gripes. Just get over it, try something different and allow yourself the luxury of being young, unfettered and carefree please. I can’t stand listening to broken records!

Taking care of my garden is giving me pleasure. Even though the rats are destroying my herbs. And I don’t know what I’m doing and I’m spending way too much money! There have been a few fun multi-cultural picnics in various parks with my rainbow tribe and somewhere there are photos so maybe I’ll post them. One thing I’ve learned is that when making ethnic food, do not stray too far from the traditional ingredients. Adding pesto to nasi goreng and putting it on a bed of fresh spinach (hey, I was inspired!) does not fly well with native Indonesians.

I’m so dreading spending this July 4th weekend in DC but I’ve got to hold the fort. My sister is in Sweden with her fiancée. I was joking with my family that at least I can escape to the “Country House” (my grandmother most likely will not be returning home again so I check in on her house). Actually, its been a nice refuge and retreat from my “City House.” I thought things would be peaceful and stress-free after Bumblefuck left but, alas, wishful thinking. Monday evening I heard a series of slamming and loud noises and I thought for a second, “Oh shit, Bumblefuck’s back…” No, it was just the happy family at Chez Crackhead next door. As always the situation and the squabble was so ridiculous I just had to laugh even though the violence was kinda disturbing. I’m so jaded at this point. Total bloodshed, police and ambulance, and an arrest. Unfortunately they did not manage to kill each other this time. Damn.

I’ve been noticing Housemate D had not been going to work very much and sure enough Wednesday he informed me “things very bad at work. I am lay off.” (Um, I think he quit because the evening shift was messing with his social life. We’ve been down that road many times. Hello Tina!) I expressed concern but he said “it is good because I have go to Hamptons this weekend and next week I go P-Town.” I guess my rent does pay the mortgage, and I guess Housemate D is back in Sugar Daddy’s good graces, because he assured me we would not have to get another house mate. We have to thank Bumblefuck for that. Bumblefuck's Legacy.

So I relaxed at the Country House last night. I’ll probably spend most of the weekend there – the view of the fireworks is good from her house. I miss my grandmother being there. I love that house so much its going to break my heart to see it go. I sorted the mail, checked the phone messages, watered my plants, did some laundry, cooked a nice meal, and camped out in front on the television. I’m totally addicted to Celebrity Poker Showdown these days. Maybe there's a yet-to-manifest gambling problem in me. Graham Norton’s Comedy Central show is translating pretty well to US audiences I think. Is it just me or has Six Feet Under become completely dreary and annoying lately?

I have a ton of great import music releases I’d like to review but I don’t have the attention span today.

Speaking of attention span, I really loathe meetings. My mind drifts, I get bored, I doodle, I get catty – I would hate a job where I’d have to be in meetings all the time. This morning I was asked to represent the Division at a meeting but it was really nice! Everything went well, it was productive, creative, to-the-point, and lively. I got complimented for my thoroughness and input. I’m totally going to do an amazing job with this project. See it really doesn’t take much to put a smile on my face! I’m so working for the wrong Man! I want that office to poach me away ASAP.

Also putting a smile on my face… a friend gave me a gmail account today! I’m such a geek and I’m sure the joy will last about 60 seconds.