jared yamanuha

2011-07-23T15:42:00.000-07:00

SAYONARA GOODBYE, BLOGSPOT, GOODBYE
All things must come to an end, good or bad, in my opinion

for updates:
www.jaredyamanuha.tumblr.com

2010-12-07T16:38:00.000-08:00

ART Paperwork
Evil Genius + Jared Yamanuha
On Display @ Borders Ward Center 12/7/10 - 1/31/11

Photo: Melanie Shoda / Custom Lettering: Evil Genius

Evil Genius and I are currently showing new work at Borders Ward Centre. Please go and check it out!

Purchasing Inquiries:

Evil Genius (lettering, mysterious quotations on white paper, with black ink):

evilgeniusllc@gmail.com

Jared Yamanuha (flowers, fireworks, UFO's against black backgrounds, photographic collages):

jyamas@gmail.com

2010-10-25T03:06:00.001-07:00

ART The Shhhow

Thirty days. Thirty clues.
An art and design show, somewhere in Hawaii.
Can you find The Shhhow?

Clues begin November 1st at
theshhhow.tumblr.com

2010-06-07T01:21:00.000-07:00

BOOKS BOOK IT!
My Weekly Reading List

Week 1 (6.6.10)/ The Return of Depression Economics and the Crisis of 2008, by Paul Krugman

Week 2 (6.13.10)/ Leo and His Circle: The Life of Leo Castelli, by Annie Cohen-Solal

Week 3 (6.20.10)/ Blink: The Power of Thinking Without Thinking, by Malcolm Gladwell

Week 4 (6.27.10)/ Why Architecture Matters, by Paul Goldberger

Week 5 (7.4.10)/ The Return of the Real: The Avant-Garde at the End of the Century, by Hal Foster

Week 6 (7.11.10)/ Forty Stories, by Donald Barthelme

Week 7 (7.18.10)/ Catching the Big Fish: Meditation, Consciousness, and Creativity, by David Lynch

Week 8 (7.25.10)/ Hawaii: The Sugar-Coated Fortress, by Francine du Plessix Gray

Week 9 (8.1.10)/ Artists of Hawaii: Nineteen Painters and Sculptors, by Francis Haar and Prithwish Neogy

Week 10 (8.8.10)/ Artists of Hawaii: Volume Two, by Francis Haar and Murray Turnbull

Week 11 (8.15.10)/ The Honolulu Academy of Arts: Its Origin and Founder, by Grace Marian

2010-05-29T20:34:00.000-07:00

THE DEPARTMENT

The Department Blog / deptofpublicworks.blogspot.com

The Department Archives / flickr.com/photos/departmentarchives

Evil Genius / areyouanevilgenius.blogspot.com

Naked Brunch / nakedbrunchnyc.tumblr.com

Mike Lau / dobedobedobeyou.blogspot.com

Mike Orbito / vimeo.com/mikeorbito

Chris Drew / vimeo.com/11566812

Kavet the Catalyst / lightsleepers.net

Kevin Blanchard / portageemanowar.blogspot.com

Jared Yamanuha (my photo blog) / jaredyamanuha.tumblr.com

FRIENDS/COHORTS/ASSOCIATES

FLUX Hawaii / fluxhawaii.com

808 Scene Zine / 808scenezine.com

Interisland Terminal / interislandterminal.org

Brian Lo / brianclo.com

Joey Trisolini / flickr.com/photos/trisoliniandsau

ET/AL / andothers.net

Annie Nguyen / work.annienguyen.net

Gary Saito / garysaito.com

2010-05-13T17:45:00.000-07:00

ART Ray Yoshida: A Memorial Exhibition
Originally Published in the May 2010 Online Only Issue of the 808 Scene Zine
view original article

Ray Yoshida in his studio
photo by Michael Flanagan

In 1998, Ray Yoshida, a Kaua‘i-born, Chicago-based artist, on the occasion of his retrospective, which hopscotched across three cities, told a writer at the Chicago Reader what he really thought about his own art. “I’m considered a good teacher,” Yoshida said, “but I don’t have much self-confidence. I’m hypercritical—I don’t think I’m very good.”

It’s true that Yoshida was regarded, first and foremost, as a phenomenal teacher. As an instructor at the School of the Art Institute of Chicago, he helped nurture the talent of artists in the 1960s who, years later, would become known as the Chicago Imagists. (This tradition, some say, is to Chicago what Abstract Expressionism is to New York City.) In that context, then, it’s easy to see why Yoshida would possess a certain level of self-deprecation with regard to his own artistic output. The fact of the matter, however, is that he was good—extremely talented, actually—and the exhibition, “Ray Yoshida—A Retrospective 1968-1998,” which traveled from Honolulu to Chicago to Wisconsin, proved it.

Now, The Contemporary Museum presents “Ray Yoshida: A Memorial Exhibition,” in honor of Yoshida, who passed away last year. The show, organized and curated by James Jensen, Deputy Director for Exhibitions and Collections, is at once a celebratory remembrance of the late master of wacky spectacles and an epiphanous glimpse at works that were, prior to his death, unknown, unavailable, residing in relative obscurity.

This posthumous exhibition, currently on view until June 11, 2010, at The Contemporary Museum at First Hawaiian Center, offers a surprisingly different view of Yoshida than that which was proffered during his 1998 retrospective. In the pamphlet that accompanies the current show, Jensen (who organized both this show as well as the retrospective), explains how works on paper—as well as a few canvases—from the early part of his career form the crux of this exhibition. While the 1998 retrospective commenced with works dated from 1968 forward, this show starts nearly a decade earlier, with “Unexplored Pacific Waters,” a color screenprint from 1959, which bears almost no resemblance to the formal and stylistic flourishes which Yoshida would become associated with in years to come.

In 1968, Yoshida cut fragments out of comic books—arms, hands, legs, pants, furniture, and other forms—and collaged them together on paper, creating an entire cosmology of pop imagery. It was as if a scientist was attempting to bring order and coherence to the randomness of forms, to bring structure to something that was, essentially, without structure. Although he did cull images from comic books, it was decidedly different from Pop Art: he wasn’t trying, like Warhol, to critique imagery from consumer culture, or, like Lichtenstein, to hoist the comic book look into the world of fine art. Yoshida seemed to pluck comic parts and organize them based solely on the beauty of their forms. These collages, it appears, are the lasting legacy that Yoshida left behind, and what most people agree are his best work.

But are they, really? This isn’t to suggest that Yoshida’s collages aren’t magnificent, no; but to hail them as his greatest achievement is to render the rest of his oeuvre inferior to them, and Jensen makes a great case against this typical view by showcasing his earlier, more experimental work in the grand spaces on the first floor of the First Hawaiian Center building.

While critical consensus will undoubtedly vary apropos the new (old) work, what can’t be argued or debated is that this satellite gallery is the perfect space for Yoshida’s work. Housed in what is, in my dilettantish opinion, the most beautiful example of contemporary architecture in the state, the Contemporary Museum at First Hawaiian Center provides vast, open spaces on the ground floor, coupled with another spacious gallery upstairs that segues into a cozy, zigzagging hallway. (Walter Dods, former Chairman and CEO of First Hawaiian Bank, had the foresight to include, in the building’s original design, space to exhibit art; now, with Chinatown the de-facto center of Hawaii’s bourgeoning art scene, it seems an advantageous location, especially in light of “First Friday” just blocks away.)

The first floor of the building, which houses Yoshida’s early, large-scale work on canvas and paper, elicits wonder. “Untitled (ladder),” (pictured above), from the late 1960s, showcases an unusual and mysterious sense of humor: pant legs, a cushion, an index finger discharging a cloud-like form, a ladder, a building whose side appears to be made of spaghetti, rocks falling into a square hole, a chipmunk and other forms hover on a grey background. “Yours for Excellent Uplift” (no date) and “Extraordinary Values” (no date), shown below, both feature their titles in their compositions, but incorporate bizarre, surrealist imagery, such as the bust of a man, wearing a suit and tie, whose head appears to be made of tentacles. “Untitled (color grid)” (1960s) is a rigid, ordered canvas comprised of boxes of glorious color, which hint at fragments of figures or landscapes, but are reordered in such a way that prohibits any real identification.

Upstairs, on the mezzanine level, is Yoshida’s Coexistence paintings (above) and other works from the 1980s, which seem to tread into darker territories. The funny guy on display downstairs seems to become more reserved, more insular, in his concerns. The way in which he paints his figures and forms seems to make them indistinguishable from the backgrounds; they blend together, dissolve into one another.

Things get brighter, though, in the final gallery, where Yoshida’s early work on paper is coupled with his canvases and collages from late in his career. The standout pieces here are his collages on paper, which Yoshida began making in 1968, and which he returned to making in the early 1990s. Yoshida’s largest collage, “EWWWW! AAAHHHH! AAWOOOOOOO!” (2002-2003), pictured above, cobbled together from newspaper comics, both color and black and white, reveal how sophisticated and refined his method had become. No longer did Yoshida cut out forms as-is, but he cut them out to further abstract their original shapes, which results in a cacophonous symphony of forms that seems apt to explode outside the frame.

What’s surprising, too, is that the placement of the comic collages in the narrow walkway that zigzags towards a dead end seems so fitting a physical environment in which to view them: the tight, compressed space of the gallery is commensurate with the claustrophobic space invented by Yoshida on paper. It’s precisely for this reason that Yoshida’s work seems so appropriate in this space; they inform one another, and make the experience of seeing that much more complex and exciting.

It’s unquestionable that Yoshida, as a teacher, did have an immense impact on the generations of Chicagoans who would go on to great careers: artists like Roger Brown, Philip Hanson, Jim Nutt, and curators like Robert Storr (former Senior Curator of Painting and Sculpture at MOMA, who is now the Dean of the Yale Department of Art), are all indebted to his unconventional method of teaching. But this exhibition, which reveals a highly original artist whose mercurial nature resulted in a diverse body of work, should dispel any notion that he was just a great teacher. Those who can do, teach too.

2010-05-08T00:05:00.000-07:00

2010-04-26T18:24:00.000-07:00

ART From Whistler to Warhol: Modernism on Paper
Originally Published on Flux Hawaii Magazine’s Blog
view original article post

Portrait of the Artists, 1967
Andy Warhol
United States, 1928-1987
Silkscreen on 100 colored styrene boxes
Purchase, Charles Montague Cooke, Jr. Fund, 1967
photo: Honolulu Academy of Arts

If you think the Honolulu Academy of Arts is simply an aging bastion of Asian art, think again. You’d be forgiven (as I was) for believing this museum was singularly devoted to art of the East. It turns out that the Academy has, buried in its collection, works by artists who have defined Modern art as we know it.

From Whistler to Warhol: Modernism on Paper, on display until July 3, unveils some of the key pieces of the Academy’s Modern collection, and it feels like a revelation. Not only does it detail, in a coherent fashion, the complex and circuitous history of Modern art, but it also sheds light on particular artists who’ve been eclipsed by the colossal shadows cast by art giants like Picasso and Pollock. What’s more, this exhibition seems to have come out of nowhere. Who was behind this show, and, more importantly, if the Academy had this incredible cache of Modern art in its collection, why hadn’t it been shown until now?

View of Prints and Drawings From Late-19th-Century France
photo: Mike Orbito

“No one knew what we had, so I embarked on this process of discovery for the past year,” Theresa Papanikolas, the Academy’s curator of European and American art, and the organizer of this exhibition, told me. A former curator at the Los Angeles County Museum of Art, Papanikolas arrived at the Academy nearly two years ago, and decided to mount an exhibition of works on paper to showcase this little-known part of the Academy’s collection.

Untitled, 1951
Jackson Pollock
United States, 1912-1956
Screenprint, Edition of 25
Gift-Purchase. Craig F. Starr Associates and the John Levas Fund, 2009 (31434)
© 2009 The Pollock-Krasner Foundation/Artists Rights Society (ARS), New York
photo: Honolulu Academy of Arts

“I went through all our prints and drawings collection in Western art,” Papanikolas said. “And that’s about fifteen, maybe twenty thousand objects.” At first, she said, the show was conceived as a sort of Greatest Hits of the collection, and would include works by artists such as Rembrandt, Blake, and Dürer. But, she soon realized, the collection was particularly strong in Modernist works. “I thought, There’s enough here to do a show that gives an overview of nineteenth- and twentieth-century art in a way that we can’t do with our painting and sculpture collection,” she said. “So that became the show.”

photo: Mike Orbito

Last week, I walked through the exhibition with Papanikolas, who illuminated, in great detail, the specifics of the show, which is grouped into seven sections that ushers viewers through the sweeping course of Modern art: James McNeill Whistler and the 19th-Century Etching Revival; Prints and Drawings in Late-19th-Century France; Cubism and its Affiliates; German Expressionism; American Realism; Surrealism and Abstract Expressionism; and Minimalism and Pop Art.

There is, however, an eighth section in the exhibition, a curious addendum, which doesn’t quite fit in anywhere else. It sits in the middle of the gallery, encased in glass, isolated from the rest of the exhibition. Its contents? The entire career of the iconoclastic Frenchman, Marcel Duchamp, in miniature.

Papanikolas, in organizing this exhibition, wanted to have Duchamp’s “Boîte-en-valise” (pictured below) on display, but the museum didn’t own one. Serendipitously, a few days later, she received an email from the Zabriskie Gallery, in New York, saying they had this particular Duchamp piece, and asked if she’d like to include it in the exhibition. (In my opinion, this piece is the show-stopper.)

Boîte-en-valise, 1968
Marcel Duchamp
photo: Mike Orbito
“This is one of the most influential artists of the twentieth century, right up there with Picasso, with Jackson Pollock,” said Papanikolas. “And yet our collection didn’t have a Duchamp, so luckily I was able to bring this here.”

It’s worth noting that Duchamp is the artist who took a common manufactured item (a bottle rack, or a urinal, for example) and signed it, which stripped the object of its useful function and elevated it to the level of art. These “readymades,” as he called them, were the antithesis to, say, oil paintings, in that the artist didn’t have a hand in making the object; he merely chose it. Simply stated, Duchamp changed the Modern Art Game, inaugurating the radical shift from art as the creation of “retinal” objects to art as a conceptual idea.

Study for “The Card Players,” 1890-1896
Paul Cézanne
photo: Mike Orbito

The Academy was lucky to receive a Duchamp “Boîte-en-valise,” but it will go down in history for unearthing a work of art that, until this exhibition, was thought to have been missing. One day, Papanikolas received a call from a curator at the Courtauld Institute of Art, in London, inquiring about a Cézanne drawing the Academy had in its Modernism show. The London curator was organizing an exhibition of Cézanne’s paintings and drawings of card players, and was searching for a particular drawing whose whereabouts were listed, in Cézanne’s catalogue raisonné, as unknown. “He was calling on the off-chance that it was the same one,” Papanikolas said, “and indeed, it was.” The drawing, it appears, will travel to London, and then to the Metropolitan Museum of Art, in New York. “It’s great for us because that means our collection gets exposure,” she said, “and it will go down in history as being in our collection.”

As I walked through the exhibition, I wondered what, exactly, Papanikolas wanted people to walk away with after viewing this exhibition. “One,” she said, “a better understanding of Modern art. The feedback I’ve had is that people are getting that. The other thing is to know that we’re not just an Asian art museum. We have this huge, wonderful collection of European and American art as well.”

photo: Mike Orbito

When I took one last stroll through the gallery, its walls positively aglow with the work of Modern artists who have altered how we perceive the world, it struck me that my perception of the Academy, too, had changed. Papanikolas’s mission, it seemed, was accomplished.

2010-04-19T00:15:00.000-07:00

ART The Shhhow

Thirty days. Thirty clues.
An art and design show, somewhere in Hawaii.
Can you find The Shhhow?

Clues begin November 1st at
theshhhow.tumblr.com

2010-02-08T13:18:00.000-08:00

ART Modern Art at the Academy
Originally Published in the February 2010 Issue of The 808 Scene Zine

photo: Honolulu Academy of Arts

Let’s face it: Honolulu is not, at least at this precise moment in time, a city to which tourists flock to see art. We’re not Manhattan or LA. Our cultural infrastructure is far from perfect. We’re marooned in the middle of the Pacific Ocean, disconnected both culturally and physically from the rest of the world.

But all is not lost, at least not until the Honolulu Academy of Arts shutters. On view, in Gallery 27, the Clare Boothe Luce Gallery, is a sampling of modern art, a loose collection of some of the greatest art and artists of the past century. It is, however, just a tip of the modern art iceberg. Think of it as an aesthetic pupu platter, or a series of visual amuse bouche, rather than a full course meal. This isn’t necessarily a bad thing, though, considering that no museum—save for the world’s preeminent institutions of modern and contemporary art—could do even moderate justice to such an expansive and daunting category.

That said, there’s plenty to feast on in Gallery 27, which roughly traces the overall historical narrative of modern art: the dominance of Western European art up until WWII, proceeded by the rise of the great American art movements; the constant tussle, still in effect to this day, between figurative and abstract painting; and finally, the rise of international art stars.

"Ism’s" dominate. Examples of Fauvism, Cubism, Futurism and Surrealism, rooted in Europe, occupy the back wall and columns, while Abstract Expressionism—America’s first truly “American” art movement—dominates a large portion of the gallery. Minimalism is given a small role, too; so is Conceptualism. If this sounds boring and academic, not to worry: Gallery 27 is light on explanatory texts and heavy on art. Simply put, it offers thirty or so different ways in which to see the world.

Although the gallery is filled with the names of canonical artists (Picasso, Braque, Matisse, Rauschenberg, Bacon, et al), it’s the pieces by the less familiar that captured my attention.

"Fragrance" (1956), by Hans Hofmann, is so visually mesmerizing, with its thick impasto, its violent squares of greens and browns and blues, that you feel compelled to touch it (probably not a good idea, though). John Baldessari’s "Six Colorful Gags, Male" (1991), pictured above, is gorgeously catalytic, triggering thoughts and afterthoughts while looking at it. Alex Katz’s "Ada with Black Scarf" (1966) and Alice Neel’s "Marisol" (1981) demonstrate the vitality and excitement of figurative painting.

"Die Lage (The Situation)" (2006), pictured above, by Neo Rauch, introduced me to a painter who is, in the words of some, perhaps the most impressive artist of his generation anywhere in the world. At first glance, you can’t discern what the hell is going on in the tangle of figures and objects and buildings (second and third glances bring you no closer to understanding, either). It’s best to just look at the skillfulness with which the painting has been willed into being, and leave it at that. It’s partly the size of this painting, too: it engulfs you, dwarfs you, and you submit to its monumental and pictorial power.

Philip Guston’s "Cherries III" (1976) is, hands down, my favorite painting in Gallery 27, and perhaps the simplest. A handful of cherries, their stems extending outward, sit on a blue-ish ground or table, backed by an ambiguous pink background. It’s painted with a cartoonish, fidgety quality, and the thick brushstrokes come alive as you move in closer. I’ve seen Guston’s paintings online and in books before (so-so), but it pales in comparison to seeing them in person (holy-moly!).

Even though we’re not LA or Manhattan (or even Minneapolis), we’ve got art—great, modern, canonical art—on view here in Hawaii, at the Honolulu Academy of Arts. And maybe that should be our little secret.

2010-01-23T17:06:00.000-08:00

MUSIC All That Jazz: Bop Tribal
Originally Published in Flux Hawaii Magazine, Issue 1: Transition

“This is my Dream Team,” says Satomi Yarimizo, referring to her musical colleagues whom she’d brought together to play in Hawaii’s first jazz quintet.

Given the talented roster, this seemed an accurate description. The five musicians who comprise Bop Tribal are, undoubtedly, the Michael Jordans of Hawaii’s jazz community, all of whom were plucked with a curatorial eye by Yarimizo herself. Their collective virtuosity is so evident that, with only a single album to their name, they’ve already garnered two preliminary Grammy nominations. Not bad for a group that was assembled in 2008.

Yarimizo, a pianist, was asked to form a jazz group to play at a venue in Waikiki and knew immediately those musicians she would call upon: DeShannon Higa, trumpet and flugelhorn; Reggie Padilla, tenor saxophone; Shawn Conley, bass; and Abe Lagrimas, Jr., drums. Each member of Bop is so accomplished and a member of so many groups that it would take, quite literally, the entire length of this article to note them all. “The players Satomi was able to collect under one album,” says Higa, who pauses briefly, then continues, “not to sound too pretentious or anything, but it’s all heavy players.”

Assembling this musical coterie, it turned out, was the easy part. “Putting a group together is easy by comparison to picking a name,” says Higa. “It’s always been a grueling thing because it has to be something that fits the band, fits what we’re trying to do and what we’re about.” Numerous names were proffered; just as many were discarded. Then, it seemed, Higa found the perfect name that would encapsulate both the type of jazz they played and the camaraderie shared between the five of them.

“We had some really lame ones,” Padilla remembers, “and then [Higa] just laid [Bop Tribal] on us, and we were like, ‘Yeah, OK.’” Higa joked that the name had to be approved by Satomi, the head honcho, first: “all decisions have to go through her, the boss!”

Once settled on their name, Bop Tribal began playing at Chinatown venue, The Dragon Upstairs, to packed houses. Soon, though, they desired to bring their music to a wider audience outside of Hawaii and decided to hit the studio. But because two of their members reside on the mainland U.S.—Lagrimas in California, Conley in New York—they had an extremely limited amount of time to write, rehearse and record their album. “We were taking a lot of chances and risks in the entire process,” says Lagrimas, Jr. in an email. “There wasn’t a whole lot of rehearsal time, nor did we have a lot of time in the recording session.”

“We got together one day at my house,” Padilla recalls. “We brought our own compositions, and sorted through them to see which ones sounded good.” What began as 20 songs was carefully whittled down to 12 recorded tracks, and from there 8 were chosen for their debut record. “It wasn’t as organized as it might have seemed,” says Higa, “but it ended up being a really constructed album.”

To the uninitiated it might come as a surprise that jazz is, by and large, a musical form based heavily on improvisation, and Bop Tribal’s self-titled release is no exception. “There’s definitely a blueprint of what’s going on, but all the pieces have a proportion where it’s completely improvised,” says Padilla. “As far as the rhythm section [drums, bass and piano] goes, they’re actually improvising most of their part.”

As deft as each musician is, it’s difficult to discern between what’s written and improvised, as each player adeptly weaves in and out of the complex musical fabric, channeling influences of be-bop, post-bop, New Orleans Dixie, 60’s Miles Davis, and surprisingly, hip-hop.

When asked about the formal connection between jazz and hip-hop, Higa offers this insightful rejoinder: “I am of the opinion that hip-hop is the next step in the evolution of jazz, in that what MC’s are doing is what jazz musicians do.” He’s right, in that jazz musicians conjure melody and rhythm, while hip-hop emcees make words rhyme to rhythm. On close inspection, the labyrinthine verses of hip-hop groups such as Freestyle Fellowship and Anticon bring to mind the soloistic inventions of Charlie Parker, Miles Davis and even Ornette Coleman.

What’s next for Bop Tribal? Touring the world? Hopefully. “Well, we’re always planning tours,” says Higa, jocosely. “It’s just a matter of finding the right connection. But having our promoter and our record label pushing us to get a write up in Downbeat, pushing us to get a Grammy nomination, that’s all good publicity for us that hopefully will manifest into invitations for festivals. That’s what we’re aiming for.”

For more information, visit www.boptribal.com.

2010-01-21T19:50:00.000-08:00

ART/CULTURE NYC Transplants
Originally Published on Flux Hawaii Magazine’s Website
view original article post

all photos by Mike Lau

It’s a city with a population of over eight million people. It’s home to Broadway, to the Museum of Modern Art, to Carnegie Hall. It’s given birth to hip-hop, to abstract expressionism, to the beat generation. It’s the home of Jim Jarmusch, of Thomas Pynchon, of Jay-Z. Its landmarks, like the Statue of Liberty, are emblematic of its endless opportunities. It’s a city with an alluring slogan (“If you can make it here, you can make it anywhere”). It’s a city that never sleeps and dreams big. It is, undoubtedly, the cultural capitol of the world: New York City.

It comes as no surprise, then, that thousands move to this glittering metropolis, year after year, to make their mark in the city that exercises a cultural hegemony over the rest of the world. Hawaii denizens, too, are involved in this migration, and these portraits offer a glimpse into the lives of Hawaii’s creative transplants who now call NYC their home.

Name:
Leah Renee Evans

Occupation:
Costume Design Assistant to Christian Joy & Buyer at Beacon’s Closet

Originally From:
Kaneohe

Now Residing In:
Greenpoint, Brooklyn

Reason For Moving:
For adventure, opportunity, and a change of scenery.

The Best Thing About NYC:
There are amazing museums, free concerts, it’s bike friendly, and sometimes you see dogs wearing snow boots. You can find Kombucha in almost every bodega. Also, nobody stares at you if you dress up just to go to the pharmacy.

The Worst Thing About NYC:
It’s no stargazer’s paradise.

Is NYC Your Home Now, Or Do You Plan To Return to Hawaii?
To tell you the truth, I am not sure. I love both places immensely. Without question, Hawaii is my home in my heart, and I often can’t shut up about it!

Name:
Francis Nishida

Occupation:
Server/DJ – www.theglobalelite.com

Originally From:
Honolulu

Now Residing In:
Williamsburg, Brooklyn

Reason For Moving:
Why Not?

The Best Thing About NYC:
There’s always so much going on.

The Worst Thing About NYC:
There’s always so much going on.

Is NYC Your Home Now, Or Do You Plan To Return to Hawaii?
Haven’t thought about it much, I definitely miss Hawaii but am planning on staying out here for a while.

Name:
Stella Yi

Occupation:
Student/Server

Originally From:
I was born in Honolulu and grew up in Red Hill. My family and I later moved to Kapolei during my high school years.

Now Residing In:
I currently live in Williamsburg Brooklyn for convenience and the old school italians. There is a definite charm in my neighborhood with the old mafia type dudes. I love it.

Reason For Moving:
Living in New York has been on my to do list since I was 14. I moved when I finally had the chance to do so. I’m currently a student at Parsons The New School For Design.

The Best Thing About NYC:
Best part is that the city is full of things and places to discover! You can never know the city well enough, it always surprises you. I also love that it is a pedestrian city and the best way to explore the city itself is through walking.

The Worst Thing About NYC:
Worst part of living in New york has got to be money. Everyone in New York rents. It’s a renters’ land and unless you are extremely wealthy, you don’t own shit. I don’t mind renting but a big part of me wants to have my own land. I also love the romantic big tree forest type of land and New York is a wimp in that category.

Is NYC Your Home Now, Or Do You Plan To Return to Hawaii?
I definitely won’t move back to Hawaii. I don’t know if New York is the place I’ll end up for good, although I always thought that would be the case. I might end up living somewhere really green like Washington or Oregon. I’m a hippie at heart.

Name:
Kalani Fujimori

Occupation:
Designer – www.kalanifujimori.com

Originally From:
Honolulu

Now Residing In:
Williamsburg, Brooklyn

Reason For Moving:
It’s a place that has always intrigued me culturally and inspired me creatively.

The Best Thing About NYC:
The food and how every restaurant has delivery.

The Worst Thing About NYC:
Riding the train when the kids get out of school

Is NYC Your Home Now, Or Do You Plan To Return to Hawaii?
Learning as much as I can and eventually bringing it back to Hawaii has always been the goal for me.

Check out more of Mike Lau’s photographs at his website, www.dobedobedobeyou.blogspot.com.

2009-12-23T16:42:00.000-08:00

ART The Lo Down
Brian Lo Solo Show at Manifest

Here’s a few photos of Brian Lo’s work at Manifest. My favorite piece is the last one, pictured at the bottom, which seems to me a Chuck Close painting in reverse. Where Close uses tiny square modules of abstract color and line to create a larger, photorealist portrait, Lo uses tiny photographs/portaits of people to create a larger, more abstract composition. (Close starts with abstraction and ends with realism; Lo starts with realism and ends with abstraction.) Lo takes it further by delineating two figures over the piece, which creates a portrait out of the combined photographs of his friends and family, which, according to him, he takes from myspace and facebook. His combination of traditional painting with digital manipulation is fresh and exciting, and i look forward to seeing more of his work. (Congrats, Brian!)

website: www.brianclo.com

2009-12-16T17:06:00.000-08:00

ART All A-Board
Skateboard Art at Manifest’s “Deck the Halls” Show

Below are a few of the skateboard decks that I thought were the freshest, most exciting of the bunch at Department homie Kavet the Catalyst's "Deck the Halls" art benefit show at Manifest. I couldn’t get decent pictures of other decks, bathed in darkness, so here’s just a taste of what the show had to offer by way of skateboard art, and a look, too, at some of the more exciting artists in Hawaii.

? (Anyone know who painted this deck?)

Angry Woebots

in4mation

Department cohort Evil Genius

Manny Pangilinan

2009-12-15T10:47:00.000-08:00

FILM/CULTURE Manufacturing Consent: On Gary Hustwit’s “Objectified”

It's without question that the de facto authority on design-centric cinema is none other than Gary Hustwit. "Helvetica," Hustwit's directorial debut, supplied design mavens and dilettantes alike with a comprehensive look at the eponymous Swiss-born typeface, parting the veil on the ubiquitous sans serif that managed to captivate and permeate the world unlike any other font in recent history. Now, with his latest documentary "Objectified," Hustwit broadens the scope of his oeuvre by turning his lens on the complex and sprawling realm of industrial design.

It seems fitting, perhaps, that "Objectified" arrives when it does, at a time when design has taken a definitive hold on the global zeitgeist. Herbert Muschamp, the former architecture critic for the New York Times, wrote, at the beginning of this decade, a prophetic piece about our cultural obsession with design, which deserves to be quoted at length: "It is scary to be living at a time when a particular creative field grips the public imagination as powerfully as design has in recent years. I can't recall anything like it since the late 60's and early 70's, when movies and pop music exercised a magnetic hold on the minds of baby boomers. Today, the vigor pulses through fashion, furniture, art direction, graphics and product and image design with a similarly captivating verve." This was written nine years ago; right now, thanks to globalization and the accelerated speed at which technology is developing, our world is ever more infatuated with consumer goods and, more importantly, with design.

"Objectified" opens with the manufacturing of Jasper Morrison's Air Chair, gorgeous and minimal, as it makes its way through the various stages of production. Into the machine goes tiny plastic pellets, out pops a pristine monument to industrial design. Hustwit undoubtedly has great taste, and it shows in the distinguished list of designers, curators, critics and authors whom he enlists to help tell the complicated narrative of industrial design.

Embedded within this narrative is the question of what, exactly, constitutes good design. Is good design about making a product understandable? Is good design as little design as possible? Is good design about improving consumers' lives, without them ever knowing or thinking about it? Is it innovative? Is it functional? Is it supposed to be beautiful?

The answer? All of the above.

Although the majority of designers and critics in "Objectified" are in agreement as to what good design is, they've approached it in various ways, as Andrew Blauvelt, Design Curator of the Walker Art Center, explains. Some designers—those who seem to bridge the gap between art and design—see design as a purely formal concern; others—the more pragmatically inclined—confront it from a very functionalist point of view; and other designers—theoretically driven—tackle it in a much larger, contextual sense. Regardless of approach, he says, the ultimate goal for any designer is the search for form.

But the particular form an object takes, whether it's a chair or a computer, varies immensely from designer to designer, from raison d'être to raison d'être. Hustwit takes us on a global hopscotch, cavorting from one designer's studio and one country to the next, intent on revealing to us the myriad ways in which design theories and products take form.

There are colorful characters, also, in "Objectified." Take, for example, New York City's Karim Rashid, clad in pink sunglasses, pink shirt, and pink fingernails, who espouses his techno-organic design philosophy, and whose ravishing objects are apt to bring designophiles to their knees. Equally idiosyncratic is the sibling team of Erwan and Ronan Bouroullec, Parisian designers who speak of their dichotomous working relationship in terms of psychological profiles, and liken their creative process to composing music. Another designer, the matronly Hella Jongerius, based in Rotterdam, conveys the need to reconcile the personal with the mass produced, putting the "fun" in function, as evidenced by the addition of whimsical buttons to her Vitra Polder Sofa.

Corporations, too, have discovered the inherent value of good design, and have made aesthetics central to their marketing agendas. Hustwit gives us glimpses into this particular phenomenon, granting us access into Apple's design quarters and Target's expansive retail spaces. In Apple's case, we soon realize that it's been seducing us with tools for information exchange since the early days of its attractive, candy-colored iMacs.

Since its inception, the computer has played perhaps the starring role in altering the course of design, acting as a catalyst and an incubator for a succession of innovations. Think of interface design, of the Internet, of social networking sites, of the iPod and the iPhone. All this, says Alice Rawsthorn, Design Editor of the International Herald Tribune, has been triggered by the development of the microchip, which drastically shifted design's trajectory. Form no longer follows function. Gone are the days of products adhering to a strict, rigid utilitarianism. Digital is the new analog.

Surprisingly absent from "Objectified" is Amazon’s Kindle, a portable electronic reading device from the world’s largest online retailer. This sleek, revolutionary machine is to books and the written word what the iPod was to music, and it exemplifies Amazon’s ambitious vision of "every book ever printed in every language, all available within 60 seconds."

Another design sensation missing in Hustwit's doc—but in this case, rightly so—is the role of the superstar designer in creating obscure objects of desire. These are not the mass produced goods we'd find in brick-and-mortar retailers or online stores, no. These are rarified, extremely expensive "design-as-art" pieces manufactured in extremely limited runs. Designer Marc Newson—who’s featured in "Objectified"—is the man behind the most expensive piece of contemporary furniture in the world: the $1.5 million Lockheed Chaise Lounge.

And it's not just industrial designers making these coveted objects, either. Architects, artists, fashion designers and even filmmakers have cross-pollinated their respective creative strains with industrial design. In the case of architects, look at Frank Gehry's Pair of Nested Chairs, Zaha Hadid's Iceberg Sofa, or Steven Holl's Porosity Bench; as far as artists are concerned, view Ai Weiwei's Marble Chair; for fashion designers, take a look at Jean-Charles de Castelbajac's Fragile Chair; with respect to filmmakers making their foray into the world of industrial design, David Lynch’s Espresso Table is indicative of this homogenization of mediums, this interweaving of disciplines. Whether these respective stars view themselves as designers seems less important than the fact that they’ve embraced this au courant method of form making.

Perhaps Marc Newson is right to say that his job is to look into the future. And maybe Paola Antonelli, Design Curator of the Museum of Modern Art, is right to speculate that designers will become the reference point for policy makers. They are, after all, arming us with the tools with which to change the world, or, at the very least, creating the new platform for human experience and communication.

Some, however, view this advancement with suspicion. Rob Walker, author and columnist for the New York Times Magazine (his column, "Consumed," is required reading), notes that a product isn't the result of designers caucusing to effectively solve consumers' problems; there's a company behind it all, he reminds us, and they want products—lots and lots of them—on store shelves ASAP.

This constant proliferation of products—coupled with the rapid progression of technology—has guaranteed that much of what we purchase will be rendered superfluous in a few years, a situation which has generated a serious discourse in the design world about sustainability. Will the next thing we buy sit on our shelves, be appreciated, and serve its purpose indefinitely? Or will it simply become—at best—closet fodder, relegated to the darkest, most inaccessible recesses of our homes, or—at worst—abandoned on sidewalks to be poached by passersby or (yikes!) added to the monumental detritus of our landfills?

Hustwit makes us think, that's for sure. We live, it seems, in a throwaway culture, one that values novelty over permanence, the new over the old, the "now" over the "then." If objects aren't designed, manufactured, purchased and kept in perpetuity, why in the world, then, are designers designing them in such a fashion and falling in lockstep with such an obsolete conceit? Alice Rawsthorn, towards the end of "Objectified," states that the single biggest challenge facing every area of design is sustainability. She notes, rather poignantly, that designers design for 10% of the world's population who already own too much. Can this complex social, cultural and environmental problem ever be mitigated?

Hustwit is too smart, too savvy a filmmaker to offer any definitive solutions and puts forth, instead, a series of questions for us to contemplate. He, much like a designer, simply provides consumers with the tools, the information, and the knowledge with which to change the world. The rest is up to us.

2009-12-09T16:52:00.000-08:00

ART At 21: The Contemporary Museum
Originally Published in the December 2009 Online Only Issue of the 808 Scene Zine
view original article post

The Contemporary Museum, sprawled across the spine of Makiki Heights, is all grown up now, and it’s celebrating up there, on the mountain, with an exhibition of its recent acquisitions. Right now, while the galleries boast contemporary American art and art from elsewhere, is perhaps the best time to visit. This exhibition, dubbed “At 21: Gifts and Promised Gifts in Honor of The Contemporary Museum’s 20th Anniversary,” offers everyone—young, old, with or without advanced degrees in Art History—something to gaze at.

The gifts, on view until January 24, 2010, are tiny and monolithic, shiny and dull, confusing and exhilarating, beautiful and, well, not so beautiful (but in the best possible way). Some pieces come from collectors and galleries, others from artists and friends of the Contemporary. Some names are recognizable, others new. Some ideas are tried and true, others experimental and fresh. Some materials, like oil and acrylic paint, predictably appear; others—like powder-coated steel and magnets, or blue tape and tar—breathe new life into the collection. The Contemporary, whose galleries still pulsate with the floral vestiges of Yoshihiro Suda’s minimalistic Zen art garden exhibition, demonstrates that, at 21, it’s got a curatorial exuberance and unpredictability befitting its bright-eyed age.

Unlike the Suda exhibition, which showcased the Japanese artist’s ability to transform the Contemporary Museum with so little art, “At 21” gives viewers the exact opposite: dozens of pieces, dozens of points of view.

The first gallery, studded with the unexpectedly playful and colorful, sets the tone for this freewheeling fete. “Walking Through Diamonds” (1990), by James Surls, a spiky, anthropomorphic sculpture composed of carved and scorched wood and metal pins, seems apt to climb off its pedestal and onto a science fiction movie set. Paul Wonner’s “To Flora (Second Version)” (1985), a surreal still life of flowers stuffed into whiskey bottles, pots, vases, all of which cast surreal shadows within the painting, is eye candy par excellence. William Wegman’s puckish photographs, like “Improved Photographs (Man Ray as a Cat)” (1979), pictured above, converts canine into feline, to hilarious effect.

The next gallery, comprised of photos and collages, augments, in an unexpected fashion, the Contemporary’s photography collection. Candida Hofer’s “Schindler House Los Angeles IV” (2000), offers viewers a scaled down version of her large-format, Gursky-esque photos of social spaces. Sandy Skoglund’s “Fresh Hybrid (Spring)” (2008), transports viewers, via pigmented inkjet print, to an imaginary world where the sky and the ground are constructed of colorful pipe cleaners, where trees, equally furry, have legs, and baby chicks, in lieu of leaves, dot the branches (think of David Lynch and Tim Burton tossed into a joint and sprinkled with Sesame Street). Hiroshi Sugimoto’s “Colors of Shadow C1026” (2006), perhaps the greatest photographic addition to the Contemporary’s collection, manages to create a photo out of nothing. It is, quite literally, pure form, a picture of light hitting a stark white architectural space, and the various shadows generated as a result.

The stand out piece in the adjacent gallery is Alexandre Arrechea’s “Untitled” (2003), an ostensible two-colored painting of book-like forms with a formal structure that seems closer to design than art. But, on closer inspection, it’s revealed to be a yellow powder-coated steel plate on which a large black magnet cutout sits, delineating the negative space. The other mind-bending piece is William Wood’s “Untitled” (1998), a Magic Eye-like piece with repetitive, globular forms, infinitely layered. It’s a pictorial curiosity, one which viewers won’t believe is actually oil on paper.

Downstairs, monolithic paintings and mixed media pieces by Donald Sultan and Jane Hammond occupy the walls, next to diminutive sculptures like Dean McNeil’s carved and engraved granite piece “In Memory of the Significant Other,” placed precariously on the floor. The most exciting painting in this gallery is Enrique Martinez Celaya’s “The Habit of Hummingbirds” (1996), an oil, wax and fabric piece that looks incredibly rudimentary at first, but, once a closer look is afforded, a complex microcosm of brushstrokes, textures and shapes seeps through the surface of this process piece.

There are, to be certain, canonical art world giants in the new collection (Ed Ruscha and Sol LeWitt), but these pieces tend to be smaller works, except, that is, in the case of Duane Hanson. His jaw-dropping, hyper realistic sculpture, “Secretary” (1972), pictured above, is, in this writer’s opinion, alone worth the trip to the Contemporary. Adorned with real eyeglasses, steno pad and pen, not to mention real garments, this ersatz secretary is so true-to-life in both size and detail, viewers will be forgiven for eyeballing this woman, and all her flaws and imperfections (including wrinkles), for hours.

Given its newest additions, the Contemporary Museum, at 21, is looking pretty swell. Whether you fancy intricate, figurative paintings, abstract swathes of color, photographs or sculptures, “At 21” delivers great works of art in spades.

(Special thanks to Jay Jensen, The Contemporary Museum’s Deputy Director of Exhibitions and Collections, for his editorial help w/r/t this piece.)

visit: www.tcmhi.org

2009-11-28T16:06:00.000-08:00

ART At the UH Art Gallery, Far From Academic
Degrees of Distinction: Alumni Invitational Exhibition

"NY Portraits" by Gordon Sasaki

That graduates of UH Manoa can, in fact, produce prolific and fresh bodies of work post-graduation, or move on to important careers at the Metropolitan Museum of Art or the Museum of Modern Art is hard to believe—that is, until viewers see "Degrees of Distinction," a showcase of the work of 24 artists and art historians, all of whom were educated here, in Hawaii, at the Department of Art and Art History at UH Manoa. This exhibition, on display until December 11, 2009, is as varied as it is exciting, focusing on those alumni who've been recognized, both locally and internationally, for their work as artists and their contributions to academic and museum institutions.

A testament to the fruitful groves of academe, "Degrees of Distinction" comprises work that is, surprisingly and paradoxically, far from academic. Take, for instance, Noe Tanigawa's scratched, slashed, visceral encaustic paintings, a triptych of beautiful impasto pieces that summon Jasper Johns's use of the medium (the former's "White Tiger" calls to mind the latter's "Painting Bitten by a Man"). Or, for that matter, Aaron Padilla's playful "reverie," a massive wall-mounted piece of plywood and steel, bubbly forms that look like clouds—or Mickey Mouse heads—that seem to use randomness and repetition as a way of arriving at an unexpected form.

Consider, too, Gordon Sasaki's "Shirt, T-Shirt, Shirt & Tie," three color photos which, when glanced at superficially, appear as a straightforward documentation of these garments, save for the incandescent, glowing lights illuminating them. A closer look, however, reveals that Sasaki has fashioned these pseudo-garments using rice paper, thread, wire, ink, and lighting hardware, and the resulting effect appears to probe the idea of class, of cultural hierarchies in a manner that's fresh and engaging.

Not to mention James Kuroda’s diptych, "Paradise of Birds/Heaven and Hello," two gorgeous, formally playful pieces that seem to toy with the idea of addition and subtraction, with adding color and negating it with swathes of white paint, with unearthing previous layers underneath, which, in turn, creates a circuitous document of Kuroda's process.

These artists, along with the other artists represented in the show, testify to the strength of UH Manoa’s Art and Art History Department, and to the idea that Hawaii can—and will—continue to produce progeny from which the art world and the community can benefit.

2009-11-21T15:29:00.000-08:00

FILM The Fountain (2006)
Directed by Darren Aronofsky

It’s not often that a filmmaker manages to disrupt the taste buds of the critical world, their palates subjected to everything from the sublime to the God-awful, the mediocre to the ethereal. But Darren Aronofsky, head chef of "The Fountain," has done just that: he’s twisted the stomachs of every major critic in the United States, causing violent regurgitations at the Los Angeles Times, the New Yorker, as well as the Chicago Sun-Times. His latest creation may be a tough pill to swallow, but it seems that critics barely gave it time to digest, let alone savour its complex arrangement of flavors and textures.

Of course, after a single viewing, it’s not difficult to see why critics would hesitate to stick their forks in this labyrinthine, head-scratching concoction. Aronofsky, easily one of the most ambitious American filmmakers working today, intertwines three narratives, each with its central characters played by the same two actors (Hugh Jackman and Rachel Weisz). But it’s not only the content of the movie that makes it difficult, no: it’s the way in which the content is arranged, the form, so to speak, of the film that makes it so challenging. Aronofsky refuses to distinguish between what is actually taking place, what is being reenacted from the novel, “The Fountain,” (penned by Izzy [Weisz]), and what is remembered or imagined by Jackman, in his three manifestations in three different time periods. Formally speaking, it seems that Aronofsky modeled his film, partly, on Alain Resnais’s “Last Year at Marienbad,” a film where each and every scene is, or could be, real or imagined, taking place in the past, present, or the future.

What does that mean exactly? If you’ve seen “Last Year at Marienbad,” it means that Aronofsky risks losing the audience at every conceivable turn. The film opens with Jackman as Tomas, a 16th century conquistador with fiery loins, preparing to storm the dense thicket of New Spain in search of a sappy substance contained in the tree of immortality, a nectar which promises him life ad infinitum with the Queen (Weisz). Squaring off with a Mayan high priest who guards the immortal arboretum, Tomas gets stabbed and nearly beheaded before the film cuts a thousand years into the future, to a hairless space traveler (Jackman) awakened by this near fatal incident. He’s encapsulated in a clear bubble floating through space, in search of Xibalba, a dying star which he believes is the only hope for the eternal tree (Weisz…sort of), now deteriorating within his translucent vessel. Things get weird when the space man, blasting yet another tattoo on his forearm, is confronted by Izzy (Weisz), who lived 500 years prior. The spaceman, engaging in a dialogue with the dying woman, quickly becomes Tom Creo (Jackman), a neurosurgeon (now living in the present) on a conquest to defeat death. Strange though this may sound, it works, if only because Aronofsky’s editing decisions are dictated less by time, space and logic, but rather the emotional state of Jackman, whomever he may be.

Take, for instance, the scene in which the conquistador, indulging in his olfactory fetish, drifts into a hallucinatory vision where the queen gives him a ring, along with a promise to be his “Eve.” A bleeping noise swells over these images, which then cuts to the space traveler awakening from a slumber by the noise. Cut again to Tom Creo, jostled out of his reading, to discover Izzy in a hospital bed, her vitals dropping fast. Aronofsky uses the sound of this device to connect three separate stories, whose sole connection is Jackman’s turbulent emotional crisis. In this respect, the film’s temporal and spatial hopscotch game is justifiable insofar as each cut resonates emotionally. Trying to parse the narratives, to find meaning in them, to understand them, is less important than following Jackman’s emotional state, and watching where those emotions take him, physically or mentally.

Watching this film, viewers might ask themselves, “What’s the whole point of this confusing mess? Why can’t we just get a story, straight up, without all the formal fluff?” If you count yourself among the dissatisfied, it seems that Aronofsky has answered this question with “The Wrestler,” a film so sparse, so stylistically restrained in comparison to his other films, yet so masterfully directed that it could have only come from a filmmaker who had made such grandiose, operatic films like “The Fountain” or “Requiem For A Dream,” and then jettisoned such virtuosity in favor of a more intimate character study. (Paul Thomas Anderson, another great American filmmaker, seems to have followed the same path, making films like “Boogie Nights” and “Magnolia,” then moving on to a more insular yet equally monumental film—if not more so—like “There Will Be Blood.”)

Popular consensus on “The Fountain,” just as it has been on both masterpieces and pieces of shit, is never fully agreed upon until, perhaps, decades later, when it has stood the test of time (or not), when it has influenced not only how people see and think about movies but also how filmmakers make movies. Is “The Fountain” a masterpiece? That’s up to viewers, the critical world, and filmmakers to decide, in years to come.

2009-11-07T18:43:00.000-08:00

ART Days of Grace
Interview with Ryan Chun
Originally Published in Chromatic Magazine, Issue One

all photos by Jared Yamanuha

Ryan Chun is a graffiti writer, yes, but to label this bourgeoning artist as such would be drastically underestimating his talent and ambition. He’s going places—both literally and figuratively—with his art, which he signs using the alias “Grace,” (a name he decided he liked enough to have tattooed in elegant script letters on his hand). Whether his pieces materialize on stretched canvas or concrete walls, one thing is certain: he will always, regardless of medium, continue to evolve as an artist.

Let me get this question out of the way: Your last name is Chun, but you obviously have a multi-cultural background?

(Laughs). I’m black, white and Puerto Rican. My last name is Chun because I was adopted when I was young. I ran away from home at a young age because of abuse. I was living in Guam, and my birth parents were drug addicts. I just ran away, and got picked up by the police, ended up in foster care and eventually got adopted. My family that adopted me when I was 6 years old is Korean. I definitely stand out from my adopted family, but I'm glad I got to grow up in such a diverse way. It made me the person I am today.

How did you get into graffiti?

When I was a kid, my mom and I went to the library, and she sat me at this table. There were these books and the one that stood out to me was Subway Art. My mom knows I do graffiti, and till this day I tell her, “it’s your fault mom; you sat me at that table that had Subway Art!” And that was it; I always liked graffiti.

How old were you at the time?

I was probably 10 years old, in elementary. I never actually did graffiti until high school. At 15 or 16, that’s when I got serious about it.

I couldn’t steal [spray paint] because my mom’s a pastor, and she scared me about karma. So the way I would get money for paint was “spanging” which is asking people for their spare change. I'd collect it up, and at the end of the day I’d have enough for four cans. Another thing I did was crumple up paper towels, get a little stick, and shove it up the change pocket in the soda machine. That night, I'd go back, undo it, and collect all the change (laughs).

How did you know you wanted to do this for the rest of your life?

It was mostly the part of being with your friends and making new memories while doing graffiti. As I got older, every time I had a problem, I could turn to graffiti. It’s kind of like my therapy, in a way.

Which graffiti writers in Hawaii have you looked up to, or been inspired by?

The first that I got really hyped about was the TR guys, cause we’re all from the same neighborhood, and I learned a lot from them. Other guys are Katch (Natural Koncept), that fool is amazing. Mean (EV) is one of my favorites and so is Phyto (AF). He has a lot of stuff going on, but he still finds time to bomb harder than anyone.

If you had to name one artist you idolize or whose level you aspire to be at, who would it be?

I can’t say one, but I have two: Jean-Michel Basquiat and David Choe. If you put those two guys together, that’s Ryan Chun. See? Basquiat was Black, Choe is Korean. Black-Korean.

This is sort of off-topic, but you worked at In4mation too, right? What was that like?

Yeah, they taught me how to network. They took me and my friend Ricky in, we worked for them for two years, and everyday there were teaching us something new. They really showed me a new way of thinking, of how to approach things.

What was your first art show experience like?

The first show I ever did was at the Coffee Factory. My friend did an event 7 years ago, and this is how I got into canvas painting. It was way different than graffiti ’cause I could watch people’s reactions to see if they liked it or disliked it. That turned me on to doing more art shows. I would network and meet a lot of artists, and that kind of got me in the art game. I was like wow, it’s not all about graffiti, and it broadened my horizons to all spectrums of art.

Let’s talk about New York. You lived there for six months, right?

Yeah, I was painting and skating a bunch. Once in a while I bombed, just for fun. It was pretty crazy, ’cause the lady that I lived with was a drug addict/prostitute that had HIV.

When I found out I was living with someone with AIDS, I wasn’t scared; it opened my eyes, and helped me to not be judgmental towards anybody. It made me realize there’s so much crazy stuff going on in the world, outside of Hawaii. It was the biggest eye-opener.

You’re working on pieces for your next solo art show at 84. I know that in the past you used to do these intricate, elaborate paintings, but for this next show you’re going in a whole new direction. Can you talk about what you’re up to, with the rainbows and the paper towels?

I'm just not really caring about typical art that people are used to seeing. I’m basically trying to get how I feel out, in a way where it’s like “WHAM!” Straightforward, without spending too much time on it. That’s what came out. It’s the most honest when you just go for it, and whatever happens, then that’s it. With the rainbows, I like dark colors and I like light colors, but I like them together. I use paper towels to dry my paintbrushes, and I started to notice that it makes patterns. That's my art as well, because I’m the one making those patterns, unintentionally. It’s a whole different series of art that you don’t mean to do but you’re doing it.

This show, I just want to let people know what’s in my head instead of making nice things for people to see. Things don’t have to be perfect or nice.

You’ve been back in Hawaii for a while now, but you’re moving to Long Beach, CA. What do you want to accomplish there that you can’t do here?

Make more connections and network. I just want to meet people, learn from them, and do the best I can do. Push myself and make something with it, and don’t let it go to waste. I just want people to be like, “All right, Ryan Chun is not wasting his life, he’s doing something productive.”

That said, where do you see yourself in 5 years?

I’m definitely still going to be doing graffiti. I just want to be chillin’, able to do what I want to do with art. It doesn’t have to be graffiti, but as long as it’s art and I’m happy.

Anything else you want to say?

My mom always told me: “be a peer, not a fan.”

2009-11-06T18:14:00.000-08:00

MUSIC A Herculean Love Affair with Dance Music
Interview with Kim Ann Foxman
Originally published in Chromatic Magazine, Issue One

photo courtesy of betogtz.com

Kim Ann Foxman marches to the beat of two different drums: as a vocalist for neo-disco ensemble, Hercules and Love Affair, and as a jewelry designer whose accessories are found at top boutiques in NYC, like Opening Ceremony. I got a chance to chat with her about growing up in Hawaii, her work with Hercules, her jewelry line and her Achilles’ heel: food from Hawaii.

Can you talk about your early years growing up in Hawaii?

I grew up in Manoa Valley. I spent a lot of my youth at Manoa Gym, playing basketball and riding my bike with friends to 7-11 to get slurpees, and then to Manoa Marketplace to get my favorite snacks—li hing mui, shave ice, mochi, and manapua.

I was pretty much a "towny" and went to Waikiki a lot. I was always at the beach. I also liked to go hiking and bring spam musubis and Hawaiian Sun drinks. When I think of Hawaii, I think about food.

photo courtesy of Matteo Montanari

How did you get into disco and house music?

I loved to dance and I loved dance music. I used to go to raves at After Dark. I used to work at Access Night Club when I was in High School. I started getting into Djs, mixed tapes and underground music. I moved to San Francisco for college—and of course the nightlife—and I lived there for seven wonderful and crazy years before I moved to New York.

How did you meet Andy from Hercules and Love Affair?

When I moved to NY, I was staying with my girlfriend at the time...and Andy was together with her roommate. Both of our relationships ended, and I ran into Andy at a record store in NY. We started talking about records and decided to start hanging out. He would always show me music projects he was working on. He seemed to have a new one every day, and every time I heard one, I’d say, that is my favorite one. We just had a great connection from the start, and he is really one of my best friends. We actually have a matching tattoo together that says “MY FRIEND” in script on our arms.

Hercules and Love Affair - "Athene"

What was your experience like being involved in the first album?

It was very exciting and amazing how naturally everything seemed to happen. I was Andrew’s guinea pig for voices on his tracks...as I tested "Athene" for him, he decided my voice would stay on the album. I felt so happy that I got to be a part of it all and I love working with Andy.

I heard you recently DJ'ed at 39 Hotel. In your opinion, has Hawaii changed much since you left?

39 Hotel was nice. Hawaii has changed a lot. Downtown has gotten really fun—it used to be so dodgy at night around there. Ala Moana is like totally insane. Every time I go back to Hawaii there seems to be a new wing of the mall that opened (laughs). I love Ala Moana.

Hercules and Love Affair - "Blind"

You also design jewelry. How and where did you get your start in this field?

My dad had a factory making Hawaiian jewelry, and I used to work for him during the summers. I never thought I would get into that field. But I took a metal arts class in college and realized that I was naturally pretty good at it. When I moved to NY, I was able to get it into stores, which really helped.

How would you describe your jewelry? Who wears Kim Ann Foxman jewelry?

I don't think there is a specific type. It could be a girl or boy, a hipster, a mom, a dad, or a 15 year old. I guess since they have been carried in boutiques such as Opening Ceremony and OAK, they would be for people that like those stores.

Where can people in Hawaii find your jewelry line?

Well, I am in-between lines at the moment. When new stuff is out, I’ll make sure to get some out there! Otherwise they will be available at kimannfoxman.com or from stockists online.

www.kimannfoxman.com
www.myspace.com/herculesandloveaffair

2009-11-06T01:58:00.000-08:00

FILM Three Frames
Originally published in the November 2009 Issue of the 808 Scene Zine

all photos courtesy of Three Frames

I can count, perhaps on a single hand, the websites I visit on a daily basis. News, yes; Twitter, of course; but a movie blog? It sounds absurd, I know, but it’s one of the most visually compelling websites I’ve ever seen. In fact, I’m convinced that if you, the reader, check it out once, you’ll return day after day, week after week, to view the cinematic spectacles featured on threeframes.net.

The concept behind Three Frames is simple, really: pluck three consecutive frames from a movie—anything from popular popcorn flicks to arthouse classics to obscure cult gems—and loop them infinitely. The result is at once hypnotic and repetitive, disturbing and hilarious, dumb and brilliant: think of them as movie versions of artist Cy Twombly’s blackboard pictures. These images, representing one-eighth of one second of a movie, are, astonishingly, revelatory: you’ve seen movies before, but not quite like this.

And I’m not the only one obsessing over this site either. People across the world have blogged and tweeted about Three Frames, a site which, surprisingly, has its origins here in Honolulu. I got a chance to talk with Grady, the creator of Three Frames, about why his novel website has movie buffs and dilettantes alike going giddy over animated .gifs.

How do you decide what movies you'll take three frames from?

It’s mostly just a diary of what I've been watching. Its made me try and seek out movies I wouldn't normally have decided to watch, whether it was to try and feature movies that were stronger visually, ones that were more unknown or obscure, or cult classics I never got around to seeing till now.

How do you decide what three frames you want? Is it based on what looks best visually?

About half the time its based on what looks best visually. The other half of the time I'll try to capture the essence of a film's story or characters or key elements or a single scene with the few posts I choose to highlight. Sometimes it’s a tribute to a fan favorite like the "get that corn outta my face" line in Nacho Libre or "I'm sailing!" from What about Bob. For lesser known movies its fun to feature a single scene with a few posts; sometimes its enough to convey the vibe of a whole film.

Your website has received a lot of attention in recent months, and your Twitter followers is already over 1,200. Why is Three Frames so popular?

People totally love movies! And there are a million blogs that feature film stills either heavily or exclusively. But three frames is unique enough to catch people's curiosity while still being simple enough to "get." It’s a website with little to no text that literally takes a time investment of one eighth of one second per day. I think people appreciate finding a place like that in the middle of an internet so full of information.

What are your three favorite movies?

The answer to that changes all the time but today I'll go with:

1. The 1960 version of The Time Machine (pssst the whole thing's on YouTube)
2. The 1993 not-a-documentary-not-a-feature Baraka (pssst also on YouTube)
3. The 1973 Robert Altman directed The Long Goodbye (not on YouTube but should be at the top of your Netflix cue right now)

What's the goal for three frames?

To celebrate movies, three frames at a time!

Check out www.threeframes.net to view, first hand, the possibly maybe seizure-inducing movie imagery.

2009-11-05T18:30:00.000-08:00

CULTURE The New Cultural Jetset: Interisland Terminal
Interview with Co-Founder Anderson Le
Originally published in Chromatic Magazine, Issue One

all photos courtesy of Interisland Terminal

What do Belgian fine art and Rock and Roll movies have in common? They’re both part of Interisland Terminal’s ambitious plan to invigorate the local creative community by presenting exhibitions of contemporary art, film and design from across the globe. Anderson Le—Director of Programming for the Hawaii International Film Festival and co-founder of Interisland Terminal—explains the inner workings of Interisland.

How did Interisland Terminal come about?

It actually came about with my friend, Wei Fang. She used to be with The Contemporary Museum, but then she moved to New York. I moved to Los Angeles, but we still saw each other, and we always wanted to collaborate. I wanted to do something more year round that’s outside the purview of HIFF. Wei had a similar idea of bringing in more contemporary art and design, and we decided to merge our two ideas together.

We feel that Hawaii is very isolated geographically, but because of globalization and the Internet, it’s a pretty transient, cosmopolitan place. There are similar cities in size and makeup like Austin, TX, Minneapolis, MN, or Denver, CO, that are very similar to Honolulu, but they have really cool things—basically because of geography. We wanted to do something where we could have these innovative, interesting events in Honolulu, and be a counterpart of other major cities in the US.

How do you decide what to show as far as exhibitions go? What governs this process?

The criteria has to fall between film, contemporary art, and design, but the type of event can be in any shape or size. It can be a ‘one-off’ like a pop-up gallery, or a film weekend. And we also have a more ambitious architecture competition that we’re planning.

We feel that creative capital is kind of like the new economy. You go to school now, you become a graphic designer or fashion designer, and it’s just as lucrative as being a doctor or lawyer nowadays. You always hear about the brain-drain and about people leaving Hawaii. Our point is basically to showcase what’s going on around the world, but at the same time use this as an incubator to inspire young people in Hawaii.

charcoal drawing by Rinus Van Der Velde

How did you pick Belgian fine artist Rinus Van De Velde as the first for Interisland’s exhibitions?

It was an opportunity. We felt that Rinus was traditional because his work was charcoal drawings, essentially. And we felt that it was a way we could ease people into what we want to do. It was very successful.

Rock and Roll Cinema Weekend poster (designed by Wall to Wall)

Interisland’s first film weekend event was “Turn it Up To 11!” Rock and Roll Cinema. Why did you choose Rock and Roll movies?

We want to be agile, and our events are in all shapes and sizes. The film component is probably going to be the most static and regular, and we partnered with Kahala Theatres. This is something I see in other cities, where you have these one-off film weekends, so why not do it here? We felt Rock and Roll would be a fun way to go.

Do you think Hawaii is culturally ready for what Interisland is going to show?

My opinion is that everyone is open to seeing new things. We have institutions, museums or other organizations that are tied down by constituents, boards, etc. It’s a very political game. We feel that we can bring a new fresh approach to contemporary art, design and film. The audience is out there, and they’re very hungry for it.

What’s next for Interisland Terminal?

We have a Brazilian furniture show, and then we have the ambitious, long term architecture competition. We want to do something that’s very unique, but at the same time functional and useful. So, it’s a great way to get the creative juices flowing for architects in Hawaii, and I think a lot of architects will be excited by it.

www.interislandterminal.org

2009-11-05T15:36:00.000-08:00

FILM From the Ground Up
“By the People: The Election of Barack Obama” Documentary Screens at the Shell
Originally published on Flux Hawaii Magazine’s Blog
view original article post

“Sorry,” a security guard said, “no professional cameras allowed.” He pointed at my semi-professional-if-only-in-looks camera looped around my neck. He was an unusually large man, built, as the saying goes, like a brick house.

“Oh,” I said, confused. “But I’m with the media.”

“Check with the other entrance,” he said, hoisting an index finger the size of my arm towards the far end of the lot. I glanced in the direction to which he pointed, and it was so far down the sidewalk it seemed peopled by ants.

My friend and I trudged toward this other entrance only to discover another entryway, midway, flanked by a man and a woman, both uniformed. This time I pretended to know the protocol: I was on assignment for Flux Hawaii, and my name was on The List.

“No, we don’t have any lists,” said the woman, apathetically unimpressed by my pompous ruse. “Check down at the other entrance.” She, too, pointed towards this mythical media entrance, still a substantial distance away. We weren’t getting into this event any time soon.

This, I thought, must’ve been what Barack Obama felt like during his long and arduous path towards the presidency: constantly being told no, no, no, and yet pushing forward, saying yes we can, yes we will. (Yes, I know that comparing my minor inconvenience to Obama’s odyssey to the Oval Office is insanely ridiculous, but it made for a great segue, no?) Obama’s journey from relative obscurity to political superstardom was, quite fittingly, the subject of HBO’s newest documentary, presented last Thursday by HBO, Oceanic Time Warner Cable and the City & County of Honolulu at the Waikiki Shell. (Yes, we finally got into this free event).

Before I go on, I have to admit that I’m a film buff with a particular penchant for documentaries, and since HBO produced Spike Lee’s “When the Levees Broke: A Requiem in Four Acts,” one of my favorite docs of all time, I had high—perhaps too high—hopes for this movie.

“By The People: The Election of Barack Obama” is a steadied, chronological account of Obama’s campaign for the White House, one which pairs behind-the-scenes footage of Obama and his team with news media clips from the early days up until his ascendance to the Presidency. Peppered throughout are interviews with the public, ranging from hopefully optimistic to blatantly racist (“I do not want a black man running my country,” says one interviewee). There’s nothing here that we haven’t seen before, and it is perhaps for this reason that the documentary feels less revelatory than run-of-the-mill.

There are seeds, though, of a great documentary here. Jon Favreau, Obama’s speechwriter, is a fascinating character. He’s unbelievably young—at 28, he’s the Director of Speechwriting for President Obama—and his short time on screen is at once funny and insightful. (I would love to see a documentary on the speechwriting process, from Obama’s initial thoughts on the structure of a speech, to Favreau’s rough drafts, to bouncing ideas off of the other speechwriters to the final oration).

Interesting, too, are the moments when Malia Ann and Natasha, the Obama daughters, speak about their father, and their wish to spend more time with him. Michelle Obama’s moments in the film, including her thoughts on her husband and family life, not to mention seeing her chatting, laughing, pondering, are equally intriguing.

By far the biggest surprise is the section of the film devoted to the Iowa caucuses, the mechanics of which I had no idea until this film. It’s the exact opposite of primary elections in that people gather in a church, a school, a cafeteria, and basically stand next to the candidate’s name for whom they will vote. The undecided are strongly encouraged by their peers to join them and their candidate. There are no secret ballots like in primaries; debates ensue, so does a bit of proselytizing. It is, to paraphrase Robert Gibbs, democracy in action.

Although problematic at points, “By the People” demonstrates the effectiveness of Obama’s grassroots campaign for change, and how Obama and his team catalyzed a nation so totally disillusioned by the shenanigans and devastating policies promulgated by the Bush Administration. As President Obama approaches his one-year mark, the big question is this: “Is he following through on the promises he made during his campaign?” Judging by Obama’s central domestic policy, Health Care Reform, he’s doing a bang-up job, with both houses of Congress introducing their versions of this crucial piece of legislation. So far, so good.

2009-10-19T01:51:00.000-07:00

ART “Can You See Me Now?”: The Art of Yoshihiro Suda
Originally published on Chromatic Magazine’s Blog
view original article post

When you first enter the Contemporary Museum’s Makiki Heights Galleries, the space appears empty, utterly devoid of art. Your eyes survey the blank white walls, but nothing is there: it’s as if the Museum accidentally admitted patrons during pre-installation. But once you look closer—indeed, a lot closer—you soon realize artist Yoshihiro Suda has transformed the galleries with his wooden sculptures of weeds and flowers. Some are almost microscopic while others are in full bloom, but all are, astonishingly, realistic beyond belief.

Suda, it appears, has a fetishistic obsession with realism. His diminutive Weeds (2006-2009), are constructed at the same size that you’d find them in nature, and so, too, with his other floral pieces on exhibit. This Tokyo-based artist’s sculptures are meticulously carved by hand from Japanese Magnolia wood, and each piece has an uncanny resemblance to its organic counterpart. His pieces are so realistic that some, like Kaki leaf (2009), include tiny holes, as if nibbled upon by hungry insects crawling across the leaf’s surface. Indeed, Suda’s botanical bastion contains pieces so true-to-life you almost have to touch them to ensure that what you’re looking at is not, in fact, a real flower or actual weeds wiggling their way through the floorboards.

But the hyper-realistic nature of Suda’s sculptures, you soon discover, is only half of what makes them work. The way in which these sculptures are placed within the galleries transforms them, and imbues them with a sense of theatricality. Put another way, the exhibition is a completely unmediated experience: nothing is placed on pedestals, there are no ropes cordoning off the sculptures, no white tape on the floor, no placards next to the pieces, no glass cases protecting them; they exist as they would in nature. There is nothing between you and Suda’s artificial plant life, nothing at all that declaratively states what you are looking at is “art.”

The greatest example of this is Suda’s Weeds (pictured above), which seem invisible until you begin to crouch and carefully pace, hunchbacked, along the gallery’s edges. There, you discover Suda’s verdant weeds, which seem to shout “ta-da!” as you notice them. The moment seems a grandiose, revelatory unveiling as you, the viewer, become implicated in the art, and this experience dictates the rest of your slow and gradual peregrination through the subsequent galleries. Suddenly, Suda’s pieces could be anywhere, and you must be extremely careful. (As a matter of fact, a guard on duty said an inattentive visitor had stepped on and shattered one of Suda’s infinitesimal sculptures.)

As you slowly tippy-toe towards the next gallery, you might miss Koki leaf, which is positioned completely outside of the normal gallery space. Seeing it, you feel as if you’re the first person to discover this artwork, tucked cleverly behind a sliding door. At that point, you realize that Suda is creating a narrative arc, a glorious efflorescence, within the exhibit: at first, you’re forced to kneel down to see Weeds, then you crane your head around the door to see Kaki leaf, then you stand faraway, at the back of the room, in awe of Azalea (2007), placed all by itself in the far corner of the cavernous gallery; and finally, in the last gallery, you see Magnolia (2009), straight ahead and at eye level, bathing in an overhead spotlight. What begins as a difficult search for art slowly becomes easier as the work becomes more visible, until pieces are presented so you can’t possibly miss them.

Although each gallery contains only a modicum of visual treats, Suda’s sculptures activate the entire volume of the galleries, and suddenly even the unused walls—there’s a lot of that here—seem important, indeed integral, to the work itself. This is an experiential exhibit, one you must see first hand, and one that loses much of its power and impact in photographic reproductions.

As radical and exhilarating as this exhibition is, many, I’m certain, will take great umbrage with the sight of Suda’s flowers situated in such a sparse environment. With art exhibits in general, and Suda’s exhibition in particular, there will be some head scratching involved, as many will be befuddled by his petite weeds and naturalistic flowers occupying such a vast, expansive space. That said, it takes a certain amount of curatorial bravery to mount an exhibition of this nature, especially since this is only Suda’s second solo exhibition in the United States, and since he is, by and large, a relatively an unknown figure outside the circles of the cognoscenti.

Even though I wasn’t familiar with Suda’s work before entering the galleries, I was floored when I left, certain I had seen something new. A few days later, I realized that this was, by far, the best contemporary art exhibit I had ever seen in Hawaii. If you haven’t seen this marvelous exhibition yet, you have one day left (the exhibition is on display until the end of Sunday, October 18th). Go. See. Experience.

2009-10-15T01:14:00.001-07:00

MUSIC Menahan Street Band / Jay-Z / Billy Blue / 50 Cent

2009-10-13T23:14:00.001-07:00

MUSIC Borgore – “Love” (2009)
?

This song sounds like what would happen if the Predator got a record deal.

2009-10-12T14:33:00.000-07:00

FILM Through the Looking Glass
Originally published on Flux Hawaii Magazine's blog
view original article post

Still from Layover. Image courtesy of Christopher Yogi

Filmmaker Christopher Yogi tackles his toughest subject matter to date: Hawaii

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To make a movie about Hawaii—one that’s entertaining and realistic to both locals and the rest of the world—is a difficult, if not impossible, task. Hawaii is so complex, so diverse a place that it’s unthinkable that any film, really, could capture its essence.

“This is something I’ve been wrestling with for the entirety of my film school education,” admits Christopher Yogi, a Hawaii-born filmmaker who’s currently residing in Los Angeles. His latest film, Layover, on the Shore, which makes its world premiere at this year’s Hawaii International Film Festival, is both his MFA thesis film for the University of Southern California’s School of Cinematic Arts and a movie that attempts to dissect what makes Hawaii Hawaii.

“The idea of Hawaii is so overwhelming that any serious film about Hawaii will have to deal with this immense abstraction,” Yogi says.

Before matriculating at the same film school attended by the likes of Hollywood giants George Lucas and Judd Apatow, Yogi was here, in Hawaii, honing both his writing and filmmaking skills.

“I had a small Sony miniDV camera that [I] would carry around with me to film ideas that were floating around in my head,” he says. These formal experiments were coupled with committing his ideas and thoughts to paper. “I spent most of my time writing,” he says. “I thought, that’s what filmmakers did, they wrote.”

Yogi’s penchant for writing seemed natural, though, since he was an English Major at the University of Hawaii at Manoa. There, he managed to assemble his first narrative film, Every Night Spent Alone, a movie that was truncated into a short film from a feature-length screenplay. It marked his first attempt at a linear narrative, and was, in his words, “very much a first film.”

Although he didn’t consider his first film a total success, The University of Southern California’s School of Cinematic Arts certainly saw talent in Yogi, a talent that could be developed, nurtured. Yogi, too, found collaborators there with whom he could identify: “I was very fortunate to find a small band of inspired filmmakers whose tastes aligned with mine.”

It was out of this collective interest in a movie about Hawaii, shared by Yogi and his colleagues, that the idea for Layover, on the Shore was born. “I was very lucky in that everyone who I wanted to work with came on board and lent their talent and voice to the project,” he says. Collaboration is the key element that separates filmmaking from other artistic mediums, and in that vein, Yogi remarks, “‘Layover, on the Shore’ is the most successful film I’ve ever been involved in.”

It’s fitting, perhaps, that Yogi’s thesis film, conceived in California, is about Hawaii. Layover, on the Shore, filmed both in LA and Honolulu, on dreamy film stock and über-realistic HD video, is, essentially, a love letter to Hawaii. It’s also Yogi’s attempt to reconcile two different, yet equally relevant Hawaiis: the real, actual Hawaii, where we live, and the imagined paradise with which the rest of the world is acquainted.

It’s precisely for this reason that Layover, on the Shore signals a new type of film, one that engages in the complexities of Hawaii. His film doesn’t seem to fit snugly into either of two categories to which most films about Hawaii belong: it’s not a film that uses Hawaii as a stunt double, so to speak, for other, more exotic locales (think: Jurassic Park and Tropic Thunder), and it certainly doesn’t reduce its characters to caricatures, or make broad generalizations about Hawaii and its people. Yogi seems to be making movies in heretofore uncharted territory, realistic films about us, here and now.

If there’s one thing that Yogi understands about Hawaii and the films it presents to the world, it’s this: “I think most important is realizing that our audience is not limited to the Hawaii community—a community that is wonderful and supportive, for sure,” he says, “but I think we all recognize that the culture and history of Hawaii is so international that its cinema can aim to reach far beyond its borders.”

It’s unclear whether or not Yogi’s film will be a bellwether in a New Hawaiian Cinema, but even those outside of Hawaii think there’s potential for our tiny, isolated island chain to develop a film movement.

“My professors and classmates have expressed some definite excitement around Hawaii-centric filmmaking,” he says, “and so I feel there must be a demand out there. So there’s hope.”

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Layover, on the Shore is screening at this year’s Honolulu International Film Festival, Sunday, October 18th, as part of “Shorts Program #4” at 6:45pm at Dole Cannery.

2009-10-09T15:27:00.001-07:00

MUSIC Theophilus London – “Enjoy the Sun”
The Lovers

Don’t get me wrong, I really like Wale, but Theophilus London is the guy to watch as far as hip hop goes, in my humble opinion. Go out and get “This Charming Mixtape” right away, if you haven’t already heard it.

2009-10-09T15:06:00.001-07:00

MUSIC Major Lazer (featuring Nina Sky and Ricky Blaze) – “Keep it Goin’ Louder”
Downtown

The first time I heard Ricky Blaze was on my friend DJ Rob Low’s mix, Spring Break 3000, and he sounded like one of these guys who’s on the precipice, the cusp, the brink of blowing the hell up. Sure enough, a few months later, Mr. Blaze shows up on Diplo and Switch’s Major Lazer album, and in this video, which is so wacky you might not want to watch it stoned, since it’s enough of a visual spectacle sober.

2009-10-09T14:37:00.000-07:00

MUSIC Sam Sparro – “Black and Gold”
Island Records

I could talk about how Sam Sparro’s song, “Black and Gold” is an existential song in which Sparro is contemplating his life, the world, and the universe, which, according to him, is a great vast void flecked with fiery burning orbs, glinting from beyond, but what I really want to say is that this is a really fantastic pop song, one which I managed to sleep on for the past year or so. Whatever it is that Sparro is selling, I’m buying.

2009-10-07T17:40:00.000-07:00

ART Love Letters: The Work of Evil Genius
Originally published on Chromatic Magazine’s website
view original article post

Letters—that is, the characters that comprise our alphabet—aren’t something the average person takes seriously. They are, after all, just the building blocks of words, which in turn are the foundation of sentences and ideas. It’s just the means by which we communicate, and they have no real meaning in and of themselves. Letters are, well, they just are.

But don’t tell that to Graphic Designer/Artist Evil Genius, whose artistic raison d’être is the creation of new letterforms. For years, his artistic output has focused on contorting the alphabet, twisting and bending letters until they’re almost unrecognizable as such. Although his work can be classified as graphic design, it seems he’s bridging the gap between design and art.

I sat down with Evil Genius in his aboveground lair, located in the hilly verdure of Kamehameha Heights, to discuss his obsession with type, his recent work, art, and where he plans to take his love for letters.

What attracted you to letterforms?

It has a lot to do with my creative history. I was involved in a computer art scene called ANSI, back in ’94. I didn’t really understand letterforms. I tried a few, but nothing really clicked in my head. One day—and this just so happened to be around the time when I started to get interested in graffiti through a few friends of mine—it clicked, and I started doing letters, and it just went from there.

What appeals to me is that [letterforms] are these objects that are everywhere, and not that many people understand what they’re about.

What are they about?

Communication. To me, letterforms are about giving weight to something, to meaning. There’s the meaning that the letters actually say, but then there’s an additional dynamic that’s brought about by the forms themselves, and how we define those forms.

Is that what a designer does? He gives meaning to the letters?

I think he could, I mean—

—Well how do you see your role as a designer? What is the goal?

I think the individual goals of each project will differ. But the basic goal they always say in every graphic design textbook is that our job is to solve problems. It all depends on what you’re designing, and for whom.

So there’s nothing that really constitutes good design?

There are, but the things that constitute good design are more abstract ideas. They have to be functional, and the end result has to be measurable to some degree.

Was that something you learned [as a graphic design student] at Honolulu Community College or was that something you learned at [graphic design firm] Studio Ignition where you worked?

I learned that throughout the course of working. Right out of school, I started freelancing on my own, and I really didn’t know what I was doing. I landed a job at Studio Ignition a year and a half later, and I consider that a more formal education on how the design industry works, and what the relationship of clients to designers was and so forth.

Well let’s talk about some of your designs. Let’s take Spring Break 3000 (pictured below) as an example.

For this one, [DJ Rob Low] mentioned that [he wanted cover art for his mix CD] called Spring Break 3000. He wanted it to appeal to women, it had to look like it was released in the Spring, and when I think of Spring, I think of Easter. I think of warmish, pinkish, pastel-y colors and little bunny rabbits. And that was basically the inspiration behind the Spring Break 3000 [piece]. The forms have echoes of floral lines in them, like plants and flowers, more organic shapes, even though my line isn’t organic. I do everything on the computer, but I think a lot of the organic feel can be defined by the forms themselves, and the negative space around the forms.

Let’s talk about one of the pieces that you didn’t design for a client.

I call this one “The Masters” (pictured above), because it’s sort of my ode to the masters of classic racing bicycle frame builders. I really wanted to see how far I could push the illusion of 3D, in the sense that 3D on paper is not really 3D, it’s just this illusion of 3D. And in understanding what that illusion is, you can combine and juxtapose elements in ways that don’t really make sense if they were really representing 3D. It’s like saying ‘hey, it’s all an illusion, none of this is real, it’s just forms on a piece of paper.’ Because of that it gives you so much freedom to create twists on what we believe things to be.

To me one of the trademarks of your style is that it’s always evolving, A lot of really great artists got to where they got to based on their willingness to experiment. If you’re using the same tools, same forms, and the same vocabulary that other artists have used, you’re not really going to develop your own style, you’re not really going to break beyond what’s possible. That said, how much does experimentation play into your process?

I think it’s everything, actually. What interests me is how many different ways can the letters in our language be represented in such a way that it’s still functional, still somewhat legible.

Based on what we’ve talked about—your background at Studio Ignition, your own freelancing for clients, and then on to your own designs for design’s sake—do you think the world of clients and graphic design with a specific functionality can ever be reconciled with the world of personal, artistic vision?

I think the only time that can ever be reconciled is if the clients come to you, and they’re already sold on what you’re doing.

If you look at what’s been going on recently, with [graphic designers] Stefan Sagmeister and Geoff McFetridge, both of whose work can be seen in art galleries, it’s interesting in that design is entering into the art world. I saw a Sagmeister installation in the modern wing of the Art Institute in Chicago. Do you see yourself wanting to do that?

I think so. On one hand, it seems presumptuous to think that anyone else would be interested in what I’m interested in. Luckily, a lot of the things that I’m personally interested in manifest itself in kind of interesting visuals. I don’t know if it’s likely that I’ll ever end up in [an art gallery], but if I do, that’s cool.

What’s the next step as far as what you want to do with letters?

I’ve wanted to tinker with more sculptural forms, like actual 3D forms with letters. It does present a little bit of a problem because it’s not the illusion of 3D in 2D, it’s actually 3D. I do want to explore a lot more 3D things, I have an interest in furniture design, and I’m currently semi-obsessed with women’s shoes.

Is there anything else you want to add?

I really like this quote, and it’s in the intro of the [Robert] Bringhurst book, “The Elements of Typographic Style:”

"Typography is the craft of endowing human language with a durable visual form, and thus with an independent existence. Its heartwood is calligraphy - the dance, on a tiny stage, of the living, speaking hand - and its roots reach into living soil, though its branches may be hung each year with new machines. So long as the root lives, typography remains a source of true delight, true knowledge, true surprise."

Click here to access the website of Evil Genius

2009-10-03T23:57:00.000-07:00

ART 2 or 3 Things I Know About ET/AL
Originally published in the October 2009 Online Only Issue of the 808 Scene Zine
view original article post

It’s a typical day here in Honolulu, the sort of day that occupies the dreams of the hoi polloi who hail from less than tropical climes the world over: the sky is a punchy, cerulean blue, waves curl ashore on Waikiki’s clay-colored beaches, the temperature oscillates in the eighties, and an ethereal breeze sweeps through the city. For many it’s paradise par excellence, but for some Honoluluans—like the ones with whom I’m meeting today—it’s not quite what they’ve envisioned.

Indeed, Hawaii’s very Hawaiiness is, in some form, an obstacle rather than a blessing for ET/AL, a new design and art magazine based here in Hawaii. I’m sitting at Ala Moana Center with the creative trio behind this magazine—Editor Matthew Honda, Creative Director Annie Nguyen, and Photo Editor Gary Saito—and Hawaii, or rather, “Hawaii,” inevitably comes up in our conversation.

“The tourism industry really doesn’t help [Hawaii’s image] at all,” says Honda. “It’s all like ‘Hawaii is a paradise. Hawaii is leis and surfing.’ It’s not like ‘Hawaii is the place where you can see art.’” Saito, too, expresses the same concern: “That’s Hawaii’s selling point: beaches, hula girls, trying to sell this fantasy about this tropical getaway.”

They’re right, in that Hawaii hasn’t yet developed a reputation for its artists and museums, nor has it taken a proactive step to change how it’s viewed by the world at large.

ET/AL, it seems, possesses the wherewithal to change the status quo. The magazine’s inception can be traced back to Nguyen’s desire to establish something that focused primarily on Hawaii’s creative community. “Last October, I wanted to start a scene that’s not a scene. A lot of my friends are all involved in art, and I wanted to do something with art,” recalls Nguyen, who met both Saito and Honda through a design class in the Department of Art & Art History at the University of Hawaii at Manoa. Together, the three have the rapport of old friends, cracking wise and finishing each other’s sentences. Since the beginning, they’ve shared the same collective vision for the magazine.

“So many people are into so many things,” Nguyen asserts. “It’s not just design majors, it’s glass students, painters, illustrators; we wanted to involve everyone, and that’s why it’s called ‘and others.’”

And they aren’t limiting their stories to just art and design per se. “We want to create interesting content too,” Saito says, but adds that “the base of everything is going to be art, design and creativity.”

This becomes evident when Honda explains a recent article idea: “We’re going to do a piece on Spices, a restaurant.” The connection, at first, isn’t apparent until Honda explains the restaurant’s décor, which consists of photographs taken by the owner on his trips to Southeast Asia. “Even though it’s a restaurant, we could still tie it into art and design.”

“I know the owner,” Saito remarks, jokingly. “Best Pad Thai ever.”

Music, too, plays a key part in ET/AL’s modus operandi. In August, they brought down Los Angeles based music producer Nosaj Thing, which, Nguyen tells me, involved a bit of coercion on her part.

“I kind of forced it on these guys,” Nguyen confesses. “I really like [Nosaj Thing’s] music, and I kind of pitched it up. I felt he was in a good place, he’s up and coming, and he still answers his own emails. So first we approached him with an interview, and from there it spiraled into bringing him down here.”

Not limited to simply importing musical acts, ET/AL has its eyes set on artists as well. “We want to focus on artists’ forums, and we really want to do art shows,” Honda enthusiastically states.

“We’re open,” adds Nguyen. “We have friends that live across the United States, and in other countries too that would be interested [in an art show in Hawaii].”

Although art, design and music fall within the purview of their publication, ET/AL is adamantly opposed to being called one thing: a lifestyle publication.

“You could say that everything is lifestyle, but we just want to be more focused towards art and creativity,” Honda says. Nguyen quickly agrees: “That’s our emphasis.”

Soon, if everything falls into place, ET/AL’s bigger than tabloid size magazine will be available in hard copy form, but for now they’re focusing their efforts on capturing an online audience. “We really want to push the Internet, to have that as a basis to reach out,” Honda explains.

Reaching out may be what sets ET/AL apart from other Hawaii-based publications, as its content won’t be confined to the on goings of Honolulu. “I feel like we don’t want to restrict ourselves to just Hawaii,” Nguyen says. “We do like a lot of local artists, but at the same time, we see cool stuff happening in Europe, in New York. There’s so much exciting stuff going on, and it would be cool if it could happen here.”

The subject of Hawaii, inexorably, resurfaces. “It wants to be a metropolis, but it’s not,” laments Nguyen. However, it’s not all gray skies above Honolulu, as evidenced by events like First Friday in Chinatown, organizations like Interisland Terminal, and magazines like Contrast, which are all transforming the city into a more art-centric locale. “I think eventually Hawaii will be more of a mainland type city in a sense,” opines Honda.

Honolulu might not be an art-savvy metropolis just yet, and it might carry its kitschy connotations around for a while, but the tide, it seems, may soon turn in Hawaii. For ET/AL, the sky has never been so blue.

Click here to check out ET/AL’s website.

2009-09-27T03:30:00.001-07:00

MUSIC The Lonely Island- "Incredibad" (2009)
Universal Republic Records

“Jizz In My Pants”

“I’m On A Boat”

“Lazy Sunday”

“Like A Boss”

There’s a big misconception that comedy is, in some fashion, a lesser form, something only college students high on weed would write and idiots with half a brain would consume. If this is true, as many people believe, then I’m a complete fucking moron. Seriously. I love the Lonely Island, and anyone who thinks it’s easy to churn out comedic gems like this is probably too busy intellectually masturbating to Ingmar Bergman movies, or whatever the hell it is that smart people do. Fuck if I know, I’m an idiot! Lonely Island huh I like funny huh makes me laugh huh-huh.

2009-09-26T15:54:00.000-07:00

MUSIC Miike Snow - “Animal” (2009)
Downtown Records

Miike Snow - "Animal" from Downtown Music on Vimeo.

Have you ever thought to yourself, “Man, why hasn’t anyone made a song that describes how it feels when I run through fields of wildflowers buck naked on acid?” Yeah, me too. You can thank Miike Snow, ’cause, well, here is that song.

2009-09-26T15:40:00.001-07:00

MUSIC Pill - “Trap Goin Ham” (2009)
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Pill - Trap Goin Ham from Motion Family on Vimeo.

Hiphop artists are always espousing the necessity of keeping it real, but honestly, how much realer does it get than Pill? His new video, “Trap Goin’ Ham” contains people making crack, people selling crack, crackheads smoking crack, crackheads going into frenzied tantrums as a result of no crack, crack accoutrement, and other crack related incidents. If that ain’t pure reality, shoot, I don’t know what is.

2009-09-20T02:08:00.001-07:00

MUSIC Holy Ghost! - “I Will Come Back” (2009)
DFA Records

Holy Ghost! - "I Will Come Back" from Greenlabel Sound on Vimeo.

This is the song that Jesus Christ will play when he makes his second coming. (Get it? Holy Ghost!? I Will Come Back?) Hello? (crickets, dry coughs). Hey, I took a chance.

2009-09-18T21:07:00.000-07:00

MUSIC O’Spada - “Time” (2009)
Despotz Records

What would happen if Prince, Jackson 5 and Justice had a baby? Probably some really jacked up looking kids, but if we’re speaking musically, then their label, Despotz Records, was right to call O’Spada the resulting progeny of such a diverse gene pool of musical influences. Hands down, this is the best song of 2009.

2009-09-18T19:24:00.000-07:00

MUSIC The Phenomenal Handclap Band – The Phenomenal Handclap Band (2009)
Friendly Fire Recordings

The Phenomenal Handclap Band "You'll Disappear" from Leroy Hanghofer on Vimeo.

Phenomenal Handclap Band "15 to 20" Official Video from friendly fire recordings on Vimeo.

Is time travel possible? Most reasonable, pragmatic people would scoff at such a ridiculous conceit. Some might say it’s an elementary concept, one that’s more apt to surface in movies like Back To The Future II than a classroom at MIT. Still, it seems that a small consortium of musicians from New York have traveled through time, and brought back to us, here, in 2009, something…phenomenal.

The Phenomenal Handclap Band’s debut album sounds, to untrained ears such as those on either side of my head, like obscure musical gems that have been unearthed by the band, songs which they’ve simply re-appropriated, and, by doing so, created something new (think of the re-photographed cigarette ads of artist Richard Prince). This is, however, not the case; their album is composed of entirely new, totally invented songs that merely sound as if they’ve been poached from the past. The Phenomenal Handclap Band may not possess the ability to time travel, but they’ve got the ability to go back to the future. To borrow the bombastic phraseology of Chappelle's Show, “this album ain’t going platinum, it’s going double uranium, son!” In a perfect world, my friends, in a perfect world.

2009-09-11T05:30:00.000-07:00

MUSIC The XX – The XX (2009)
Young Turks

the xx-basic space from kuakuak on Vimeo.

the xx-crystalised from kuakuak on Vimeo.

If, for some unforeseen reason, I had to describe the XX’s self-titled debut in one word, it would be this: BOOM. Yeah, that’s right. BOOM. It’s like they just woke up one morning, looked at each other, and said, “You know what? I think we should record the best album of 2009, what do you think?” And the other members responded by saying, “Yeah, we should.” And you know what? They did.

The other kicker is how young they are; they’re twenty years old. Twenty! Seriously, when I was twenty, I was stuck in remedial English and Math courses at a Community College, drinking myself to death, and lusting after unobtainium (a made up word for women whom I could and would never “obtain” because they’re waaay out of my league). These kids, on the other hand, are busy making pop-infused rock that incongruously couples somber, confessional lyrics with epic, earth shattering drum machine kicks and haunting, minimal guitar riffs that linger, like cigarette smoke indoors. If you have to illegally download one album this year, please, make sure it’s the XX’s. This is unobtainium that’s totally obtainable-ium. (Remember: Remedial English.)

2009-09-11T04:17:00.000-07:00

MUSIC Mayer Hawthorne – A Strange Arrangement (2009)
Stones Throw Records

Mayer Hawthorne is the Barack Obama of music. Just when you think that the Establishment has its stranglehold on ‘the way things are,’ in steps a young, precocious, brilliant man who, by all accounts, is the real thing, almost too good to be true, a man who adds a necessary burst of hope, of promise, to a disillusioned world. Mayer Hawthorne has, with his album, A Strange Arrangement, created hope and promise for the future of music, at least for this writer. This is neo-soul, or maybe it’s neo neo-soul, at once a step forward and a step back. Either way, it’s change I can—and will—believe in.

2009-09-10T19:48:00.000-07:00

FILM Last Action Hero (1993)
Directed by John McTiernan

Containing equal parts Godardian self-reflexivity and generic Hollywood clichés, Last Action Hero is a contradiction in movie making: both a vehicle for Schwarzenegger and a critique of action films.

Snot-nosed movie freak Danny Madigan (Austin O’Brien) finds himself transcending time and space when he pierces through a movie screen—via a magic movie ticket—and pops up in Jack Slater IV, a fast paced action movie, the hero of which is the eponymous cop (played by Schwarzenegger) who discovers that his world is, quite literally, just a movie. “To be or not to be,” murmurs Slater, as Danny imagines him in the role of Hamlet. This scene is a perfect summation of both the film and the film-within-the-film, as Slater’s entire world is thrown into question.

Coincidentally, Jack Slater's character is, in many ways, like Robert Murdoch's in Dark City insofar as they both discover that they don’t exist, that they lead fictional lives fabricated by authors, that their raison d'être is to please an audience. But this conceit, which suggests that people are real only if their actions are motivated by their own free will, doesn’t entertain the idea that when someone, fictional or otherwise, commits an act, it is real to them, real enough to be considered reality. When the fictional Slater sees his fictional son thrown off a fictional rooftop, it’s real, the act itself is palpable enough to him that he’s emotionally stirred, and if that’s not reality then what is?

2009-09-10T19:45:00.001-07:00

FILM BMX Bandits (1983)
Directed by Brian Trenchard-Smith

Please find below three reasons to watch BMX Bandits.

1. If you're a completist, and desire to view the entire oeuvre of Nicole Kidman, your anal-retentiveness will forbid you from living another minute without watching this movie.

2. If you're a BMXer, you could do without seeing this movie, but then again, are you really a BMXer?, cause seriously, if you were, you would at least want to check it out, cause what if that time comes along, when you're cruising with your BMX buddies, and they happen to bring up BMX Bandits, after which they all claim to have seen it and applaud it, that is, everyone except you, and when one of them, the observant one, who noticed that you were awfully quiet during the whole BMX Bandits hoorah, asks you if you've seen it, you will have that moment of awkwardness before you admit that no, you haven't seen it, during which time your BMX buddies look at you with contempt, and shake their heads in dismay that they let someone such as yourself, a BMX dilettante, within the tight circle of devoted BMXers that they are. Do yourself a favor...skip that awkward moment and watch this movie.

3. If you're not a BMXer, this movie has absolutely nothing to do with BMXing.

2009-09-10T00:58:00.001-07:00

HUMOR Maniac Cop 2 (1990)
Directed by William Lustig

If God got plastered one night, went to a strip bar, then stumbled back to his crib and watched some wack-ass cop movie, he’d be all like, “Yo, what the fuck is this shit? Cops thinking they ME and shit, trying to judge fools, serving justice. Fuck that!” Then, after vomiting up an entire brewery, he’d smoke a joint and think until he’d brainstormed a flick about a disfigured ex-cop, framed by other officers, coming back to life, going berserk and killing a whole army of cops. Then, he’d team this crazy bastard up with a serial killer who offs strippers, and he’d be all like “Hells yeah, this is some next level shit... Hey Jesus, tell Muhammad and Abraham to read this!” They'd be on the jock for sure.

2009-09-10T00:52:00.001-07:00

FILM Ploy (2007)
Directed by Pen-Ek Ratanaruang

Nothing if not an examination of spousal fidelity, Pen-Ek Ratanaruang’s latest film Ploy probes the rocky marriage between Daeng (Lalita Panyopas) and Wit (Pornwut Sarasin), two emotionally detached expats who journey back to Thailand to attend a funeral.

Jetlagged, they hole up in a hotel room until Wit hits the bar for coffee and cigarettes, only to find himself engaging in conversation with Ploy (Apinya Sakuljaroensuk), a mysterious hipster waif awaiting her mother’s arrival in Bangkok. He invites her upstairs to freshen up, and so begins the film’s macabre machinations: a series of outlandish sequences, both dreamt and actualized, which test the couple’s marriage and force them to confront their worst nightmares. In a sense, this film is an Asian remake of Stanley Kubrick’s Eyes Wide Shut festooned with Hitchcockian macguffins.

2009-09-10T00:41:00.000-07:00

FILM Linda Linda Linda (2005)
Directed by Nobuhiro Yamashita

Not another teen movie, Nobuhiro Yamashita’s brilliant, subdued high school musical-comedy Linda Linda Linda is something of an anomaly in a genre saturated with teenage angst and disillusioned youth. Three female band members find themselves singerless for their school’s rock festival until they pluck Son (Doona Bae), a Korean exchange student, at random and begin practice on their magnum opus, discovering their performance might need to be polished before the big day arrives. Shot in a series of long, uninterrupted takes, Director Yamashita manages to craft an honest depiction of teenie-boppery, in all its awkwardness and naivete, without resorting to the typical clichés that dominate most teen flicks.

2009-09-10T00:35:00.001-07:00

FILM Leila Khaled, Hijacker (2006)
Directed by Lina Makboul

On August 29th, 1969, Leila Khaled made history when she took control of TWA Flight 840 and became the first woman to hijack an airplane. With two hand grenades taped to her waist, and a handgun tucked inside her unmentionables, not only did her terroristic act bring media attention to the plight of the Palestinians, but it inadvertently made her the poster child for terrorism.

The most infamous picture of Leila is one in which she's seen brandishing a Kalashnikov, looking off into the distance, with a brightly colored hajib draped over her head. It’s a drastically different portrait from the one painted in Lina Makboul’s documentary, which sheds light on a woman who has outright denounced terrorism as a viable form of protest.

The film itself isn’t extremely well done, but it’s interesting in that you rarely, if ever, see a pro-Palestinian movie. I was talking one day with a friend, who happens to be Jewish, and even she somewhat sympathizes with the Palestinian cause. But she brought up a good point: no one really supports the Palestinians, and if they do, it’s more of a political act against Israel than it is compassion for the Palestinian cause. So in that sense, it’s refreshing to see a film told from the voice of the Other.

2009-09-10T00:24:00.001-07:00

FILM The Wayward Cloud (2005)
Directed by Tsai Ming-Liang

The Wayward Cloud opens with a young, plump nurse lying on a bed, clutching a watermelon half between her thighs. A doctor (played here by Lee Kang Sheng) slides onto the mattress and begins his inspection. After subjecting the watermelon to a grisly fingerbagging, he proceeds to get busy, fornicating with the juicy fruit in question. It soon becomes obvious that Lee is a performer in porno flicks, and this is his latest role.

When he's not busy fucking fruit, Lee meanders around Taiwan, trying to stay cool amidst the devastating drought. He runs into a former flame (Chen Shiang-chyi) in a park, after which a relationship of sorts ensues. The remainder of the film is devoted to their attempt at a connection.

Although Tsai's films typically employ long takes and minimal dialogue, The Wayward Cloud is punctuated with bizarre musical scenes, most of which involve the protagonist in outlandish ensembles (one song-and-dance number places Lee in a giant cock costume as he's pursued by women brandishing plungers). Much like his earlier film The Hole, Tsai uses these interludes to comment on the characters, adding yet another dimension to the film's overall tone.

I'm not sure what to make of Tsai's latest, but it's a disturbing work, brilliant and disgusting at the same time.

2009-09-09T19:43:00.000-07:00

HUMOR The Sexual Demands of One Jon La Joie
How One Canadian Rapper Is Hoping To Change Our World

When hip-hop materialized in the early seventies, who among the pioneers and legendary rappers could have predicted that an MC from Canada would use this beautiful, exuberant musical form to speak ill of women?

Sure, there have been rappers who’ve erected controversial temples of misogyny in the musical landscape in the past. Think of Eazy-E, whose song "Gimme That Nut" demanded that his female companion make available her vagina and mouth as receptacles for his forthcoming ejaculate. Think, too, of the notorious 2 Live Crew, whose entire catalog is devoted to the denigration of women, the most infamous of which are "Pop That Pussy," "The Fuck Shop," and the Kubrickian "Me So Horny."

As hateful, condemning, and sexually frustrated as these anthems are, none have come closer to portraying women as purely utilitarian agents of pleasure than Jon La Joie's "Show Me Your Genitals." La Joie eschews conventional methods used by the typical rapper to woo women (cars, money, copious amounts of Cristal), by getting straight to the point, opting to forgo beating around the bush. Contrary to popular opinion, La Joie is not a misogynist but rather a realist, one who understands that the sugar-coated pleasantries and traditional formalities involved with getting a woman into bed belie the true intentions boiling in the loins of men the world over.

In some circles of progressive thinkers, La Joie would be considered a revolutionary figure. His blunt, straightforward approach to the opposite sex isn’t sheltered within social niceties and convention, his mind unclouded by delusions of greater, more intangible concepts such as love and fate. He wants what he wants, and what he wants is female genitalia. Should he be denied this simple, primal request? Maybe in Hitler's Germany or Mussolini's Italy his demands would inevitably result in draconian measures, but in Google's America, anything is possible.

2009-09-09T19:06:00.001-07:00

FILM The Aerial (2007)
Directed by Esteban Sapir

Fixated on the aesthetics of comic books and silent films, Argentinian filmmaker Esteban Sapir excavates the fossilized remains of cinema’s past in order to erect his monumental hommage to motion pictures, The Aerial. The film’s premise is something out of a children’s fable: an entire city population has lost their voices, victims of an evil boob-tube mogul who monopolizes the television industry. His control over their voices isn’t enough, though; he wants to steal their words, too. But a television employee discovers the evil plot, and works to counteract the master plan to enslave the denizens of the silent city.

Sapir, a notable cinematographer turned writer-director, ransacks the classroom of David Lynch’s progeny, snatching their homemade dioramas for inspiration and creates an absurdist paradise in the faux-antiquated film style of Guy Maddin. The entire film has this artificial quality of people posing for photographs, but that seems to be the modus operandi in The Aerial, which contains so much visual bric-a-brac and onomatopoeic words zigzagging and swirling within the screen it’s as if a calculated montage collage was the only way to bring this fantasy to life.

2009-09-09T18:49:00.001-07:00

FILM The World (2005)
Directed by Jia Zhang-ke

The characters who inhabit Jia Zhang-ke’s film, The World, are those dangling off the fringes of the greater tapestry comprising modern China, trying to figure out their identities in a city of surging socio-economic and cultural change. The World—that is, the eponymous Beijing theme park in which the film takes place—is haphazardly fashioned with replicas of the world's most famous monuments, although here the reconstructions are migetized, shrunken so that one may stroll along the coast of Manhattan, and, within seconds, stand next to Big Ben or the leaning tower of Pisa. The implications here are disturbing, and Jia uses the park—whose slogan is "See the world without ever leaving Beijing"—to craft an ominous portrait of the confused young men and women who work at this sinister Disneyland doppelgänger.

Tao (Zhao Tao) moves from the provinces to work at Beijing's World Park as a dancer, and her boyfriend Chen (Chen Taisheng), tags along, scoring a job as a security guard at the park. However, Chen (endowed with a new enterprising spirit in the big city) meets a young woman named Qun (Wang Yigun), a fashionista who makes fake outfits modeled on designer brands, and is soon juggling two women. Chen and Tao drift slowly apart, until the poetic conclusion that leaves the two inextricably connected, and a string of ...'s on China’s future.

2009-09-09T18:41:00.001-07:00

FILM Suspiria (1977)
Directed by Dario Argento

Dario Argento’s world, replete with garish wallpaper, geometric spaces and candy-colored interiors, has a sui generis quality similar to Stanley Kubrick or Raul Ruiz, so much so that it’s unimaginable how this Italian provocateur’s movies fail to secure a spot on any list of real critical value.

Suspiria, Argento’s eighth film, is a brutal masterpiece that simultaneously aestheticizes violence and expresses a strong aversion to such acts, creating an ideologically challenging viewing experience. Shot in bold colors and a wildly inventive manner, Suspiria peers in on a German dance academy whose faculty members are involved in some strange devilish occult, desperately killing their students in order to fuel their brand of witchcraft and continue their legacy. Accompanied by a haunting, off-kilter score by The Goblins, Suspiria is a multi-layered horror film worthy of standing shoulder to shoulder with both The Shining and On Top Of The Whale.

2009-09-09T18:25:00.000-07:00

FILM 2 Days In Paris (2008)
Directed by Julie Delpy

Writer-Director-Star Julie Delpy’s 2 Days In Paris sounds like a not-so-clever pun on the salacious Hilton dilettante, but maybe that’s a good thing. If this movie title catches your eye at your local movie depot (granted you’re not perusing the bowels of Adult Emporium), it’s definitely worth a watch, especially if you’ve got a penchant for romantic comedies. If Delpy’s film reminds you of Before Sunset, it’s unsurprising, seeing as how Delpy doubled as co-writer and actress in Richard Linklater’s 80 minute French tryst (it’s also one of my favorite films).

An actress who has worked with Jean-Luc Godard, Krzysztof Kieslowski and Jim Jarmusch, Delpy’s had the advantage of learning from some of the greatest filmmakers of all time. Her film is exuberant, her dialogue crisp and unexpected, as if each moment was carved out spontaneously.

2009-09-09T17:58:00.000-07:00

ART Department Of Public Works
published in the August 2009 Issue of 808 Scene Zine
download original (.pdf)

Big government; gentrification; quality of life; street cleaning and recycling projects. These are, in reality, the sort of words one associates with the name “Department of Public Works.” Why in the world, then, would we, a creative collective, ever want to name ourselves after such a boring, bureaucratic-sounding organization?

Long story short, we thought it was funny, in a tongue-in-cheek sorta way. Not to mention that our work as a collective would be, essentially, pieces made “public” in some way, shape or form. When Evil Genius—co-founder of the Department, along with myself—blurted out “Department of Public Works” as a suggested name for our crew, I laughed. It was ridiculous, right? Then, the next day, after the name had been stewing in my brain with the rest of the possibilities, it clicked; this was the perfect name. It was settled; from that moment on, we would officially be known as the Department of Public Works.

There were, however, a few in our creative coterie who felt the name would go right over people’s heads. They argued that the name sounded too generic, too…institutional; people might mistake us for an actual state department, branching off in some bohemian manner to gain the interest of the young, the hip, the beautiful. Maybe they were right, but at that point, we’d already printed out stickers for chrissakes, each of which were emblazoned with our nifty sobriquet. There was no turning back.

Still, to this day, I stand by our decision. Every time we tell someone the name of our crew, they giggle like schoolgirls. That can’t be a bad thing, can it? Anyway, at this point, you’re probably wondering what it is that we do, and who we are, so I’ll cut short this etymological history of the Department for the sake of brevity.

Simply stated, we’re an art collective, a tightly-knit organization consisting of members from various disciplines. We’re an assembly of artists, graphic designers, photographers, illustrators, filmmakers, musicians and writers who are out to not only give the public our best work possible, but to assist one another and collaborate on more ambitious projects. We want to stray away from operating in our self-contained, autonomous bubbles in order to push our work even farther. It’s our belief that we’ll be able to accomplish much more collectively than we ever would individually, an idea which, essentially, was the impetus for our creating the Department.

What’s more, we’re looking to present our work in unconventional venues, places which, at first, might seem like inappropriate or unorthodox locations for the presentation of our work. Our first show, of sorts, is on display for the month of July at Victoria Ward Borders Bookstore and features the work of Evil Genius, Mike Lau, Raul Soria, Kevin Blanchard, and yours truly.

Well, that’s about it. Thanks for reading this long and tangential rant about the Department. Feel free to see what our crew is up to by checking out our blog at deptofpublicworks.blogspot.com, or peep our sporadic tweets at twitter.com/the_department.

2009-09-09T17:35:00.001-07:00

MUSIC Diplo At Next Door
published in the September 2009 Issue of 808 Scene Zine
download original (.pdf)

Wesley Pentz is a name with which the general public might not be familiar, but it’s safe to say that most have heard his music before. He is, among many other things, a DJ, producer, record label owner, ambassador to exotic music forms, and now, a film producer. He’s one-half of Hollertronix, co-creator of Major Lazer, producer for M.I.A. and Santogold, and the man behind some of the best remixes in recent history. He has played shows alongside the likes of Justice and RJD2, and yes, he also goes by the curious pseudonym Diplo.

A few weeks ago, on one of those sweltering Hawaii nights, he played at Chinatown’s Next Door to a packed house and it was, in all honesty, one of the best sets I’ve heard since I figured out how to replicate stamps on the insides of my wrists to avoid hefty cover charges (I’m kidding, of course).

The night began rather calmly, as tiny clusters of people trickled in through the tinted double doors with relative indifference. Soon, though, people started marching en masse into the club, staking out their claim to prime real estate near the stage by hunkering down on plastic chairs, readying themselves to watch Diplo’s foray into filmmaking.

What business does Diplo have making movies? It’s simple, really. Aside from his work with the aforementioned artists, it was he who introduced the world to Baile Funk, a feverishly intense form of dance music originating in the dusty favelas of Rio De Janiero, Brazil. It seemed only natural, then, that he would take his love of their indigenous music to another, more visual level, for the world to both see and hear.

Diplo’s music doc, Favela on Blast, follows a dozen or so of Rio’s Baile Funk stars, capturing them on stage, in the studio, or on the streets playing their music, which, it seems, is all about sex. One Baile Funk singer implored a crowd of hundreds to “do the froggy,” a dance which, when enacted on stage, looked like acrobatic dry-humping. Another anthemic crowd pleaser, this time sung by a female mc, spoke of men with tiny penises, and how they and their diminutive packages would please neither her nor any other woman in Rio. It makes sense, though, that sex is such a central point of the music, given the fact that Miami Bass is the progenitor to Baile Funk, and the music is, by and large, made to be heard at massive parties and night clubs, where men and women grind on one another while drunk.

When the film’s credits rolled, everyone swarmed towards the stage, and resident DJ Mr. Nick took to the decks. His set was incredible, and although I’ve only heard him a few times, it seemed he was at the top of his game. Directly after, DJ Jami took control of the Serrato, and his set was equally mesmerizing. Rare is it that I actually dance when not completely drunk, but they had me—and everyone there—under their control.

By the time Diplo stepped to the decks, I was an automaton obeying his commands, which he doled out via earth-shaking, staccato drum kicks and electronic stutters, each of which asked my body to respond with a variety of gesticulations ranging from subtle head nodding to full body flailing. Near the end of his set, I began sweating profusely, perspiring out all that mid-shelf gin I had swilled throughout the night. I felt as if I was ready to pass out, to smack my head against the concrete floor, but I was having too much fun to suffer a bout of dehydration.

As I looked around, hands, hundreds of them, were hoisted high into the air, as if paying respect to his mashed-up mantras like religious zealots. That night, it seemed, the ascendency of Diplo to the thrones of the Music Gods was consecrated. He may have been born Wesley Pentz, but he’ll forever be remembered by music worshippers as Diplo.

2009-09-09T17:07:00.000-07:00

FILM My Kid Could Paint That (2007)
Directed by Amir Bar-Lev

“Cinema is the most beautiful fraud in the world.” - Jean Luc Godard

Orson Welles was one, and so was Bobby Fischer. Add to this list the diminutive Marla Olmstead, a four-year-old painter whose works have rattled the foundations of the Modern Art World. Her abstract paintings sell for thousands of dollars, yes, but is she a child prodigy?

The story of this wunderkind begins in Binghamton, New York. The Olmsteads are a cookie-cutter family, Americana personified, the sort of faces you’d see plastered on cereal box covers. The only difference between the Olmsteads and, say, the family next door, is that their daughter is a brilliant painter—an infant art savant, if you will. As luck would have it, an art gallery owner serendipitously spots a Marla painting, and sees potential. He sets up an art show for the lilliputian master, and the media goes apeshit.

The news spreads like wildfire. Oprah, Conan O’Brien, The New York Times: the story is gold, and everyone wants a piece. The demand for her paintings rises exponentially, until a single news story throws a wrench in the moneymaking machine. 60 Minutes reveals that Marla had help from her father; either, the experts say, he painted them himself, or had a hand in the creative direction of his daughter’s work. The demand dries up, the media turns its back against Marla, and the Olmsteads are chastised.

This is the precise moment in the documentary when the focus shifts from Marla to the filmmaker. Director Amir Bar-Lev turns the camera on himself, and the interviewer becomes the interviewee. He has questions, doubts, about the validity of this girl’s work. "Could this really be the father’s handiwork?,” he seems to ask. What began as a simple documentary quickly mutates into something quite different, a film where the documentarian isn’t simply collecting facts, but is, in effect, intervening.

Simply put, Bar-Lev breaks the cardinal rule in documentary filmmaking. He becomes too close to his subjects, his objectivity becomes muddled by his emotional ties to the Olmsteads, and he starts probing for answers. One of the primary duties a filmmaker has to an audience, in my humble opinion, is to ask questions, not to provide answers. The minute Bar-Lev makes it his personal mission to find out whether or not this girl is the sole author of those paintings is the minute the documentary veers off track into the questionable realm of propaganda. Triumph Of The Will it is not, but Frederick Wiseman would surely shake his head at Bar-Lev’s reckless intrusion and inquiry into the world of which he is supposedly an observer.

“All art in some ways is a lie,” says Michael Kimmelman, Chief Art Critic of the New York Times, in his interview with Bar-Lev. One could easily say the same about movies, which manipulate time and space via editing and cuts. Movies can go anywhere, say anything, but are never really real. Nothing is ever what it really seems, and Bar-Lev’s movie is no exception.

2009-09-08T00:26:00.000-07:00

FILM Stanley Kubrick’s Boxes (2008)
Directed by Jon Ronson

The late Stanley Kubrick has a lot of boxes. His estate in Hertfordshire, England, is consumed by them. Boxes, hundreds of them, are filled with material that has been labeled, categorized, codified in such a way as to make the Dewey Decimal System look rudimentary by comparison. The boxes contain research material for his films, like thousands of photographs of gates, toy and costume stores for Eyes Wide Shut. Others contain fan letters, each marked positive, negative, or crank (for crazy). His system is such that those fan letters written from Cleveland, OH, have been filed in a folder marked Cleveland, OH, and so on and so forth. The degree to which Kubrick has organized even what some would consider trifles is extraordinary, and borderline obsessive.

Jon Ronson has, in this documentary, decided to brave the vestiges of Kubrick's past in order to discover what made Kubrick Kubrick. He has succeeded, as long as we can accept that no man can ever be whittled down to a single word. But if there was one essential thing, like rosebud in Citizen Kane, that could come close to approximating Stanley Kubrick, even if only symbolically, Ronson has found it: A clean, perfectly designed, cardboard box.

2009-09-07T21:58:00.000-07:00

FILM Vertical Ray Of The Sun (2000)
Directed by Tran Anh Hung

Vertical Ray of the Sun is your average family drama packaged in a formally challenging way. Four siblings, Lien (Tran Nu Yen-Khe), Khanh (Le Khanh), Suong (Nguyen Nhu Quynh), and Hai (Ngo Quang Hai) prepare a feast in remembrance of their deceased parents. Lien, the youngest of three sisters, lives with their younger brother Hai in an apartment that facilitates their ambiguous relationship which borders on incestuous. The older sisters, Khanh and Suong, are both married, the former to a writer struggling with his latest novel (and an affair), the latter to a photographer who leads a double life.

Typical as this may seem, Tran's method of approaching this material is anything but: he releases us into his narrative stream, afloat like yellow plastic ducks, allowing us to get carried away by rivulets of digression, and even invites us to get caught in rocky patches of incoherence. But Tran, responsible filmmaker that he is, scoops us up and returns us to his whimsical, undulating current. Although this may sound confusing (both my aquatic metaphor and what the director is doing), Tran anchors his entire film within Lien and Hai's apartment, a place to which the film returns every morning after the narrative progresses (or digresses, in some cases). This technique proves helpful, because it's very uncertain as to what Tran is up to half the time, so when he returns to the apartment as Lien and Hai wake up, it gives us a space with which we can associate and somehow sort out the narrative details which took place.

Some films challenge us to reconsider how we think about and understand movies, while others simply generate a cartoon bubble above our heads with a gigantic question mark inside. Vertical Ray of the Sun straddles this divide.

2009-09-07T21:46:00.001-07:00

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2009-09-07T03:21:00.000-07:00

FILM The Squid And The Whale (2005)
Directed by Noah Baumbach

It’s Brooklyn, 1986, and the nuclear family is in trouble.

Bernard Berkman (Jeff Bridges) is a struggling author and part-time professor whose marriage is spiraling into oblivion. He and his wife (Laura Linney) split and divvy up the kids, who respond to the separation in oddly different ways: the eldest son, Walt (Jesse Eisenberg), sides with his pops, and feeds parasitically off his literary knowledge and shitty advice about the opposite sex, while the younger son (Owen Kline) sticks with his mom, tanks cans of beer, and begins to write his name on library books and lockers in a seminal fashion. The film inches its way into the emotional detritus of this crumbling family, and director Noah Baumbach doesn't hesitate, even for a second, to invite the audience into the recesses of his own painful memories of childhood (the story is partly-autobiographical).

Stylistically, The Squid And The Whale comes closer to the films of John Cassavetes (Shadows, A Woman Under the Influence) than it does to Wes Anderson, who produced the film and also co-wrote The Life Aquatic with the director. Baumbach strays away from the polished, carefully crafted frame, and opts instead for an agitated handheld look that adds to the intensity of domestic turmoil.

Baumbach makes more than a few allusions to movies, the most obvious of which are Jean-Luc Godard's Breathless, David Lynch's Blue Velvet, and Jean Eustache's The Mother and the Whore. These cinematic quotations bring up an important question: do such films simply stroke the collective ego of cinephiles, whose level of respect for a film is dependent upon the identification of such film quotes? Is the practice of pastiche merely an attempt for filmmakers to wink at movie buffs? Or is it possible the referential filmmaker, in his desire to woo the film savvy, has engaged in an act analogous to that which is committed on a daily basis by Hollywood, in their petty attempt to pat the audience on the back? Could it be the cinephile is gratified in the same way as the casual film goer?

2009-09-07T02:49:00.000-07:00

FILM Glory To The Filmmaker! (2007)
Directed by Takeshi Kitano

Making a film about the making of a film is tantamount to juggling chainsaws fifty feet in the air, tippy-toeing on a tightrope, while monitoring the audience’s attention, making sure their two hours are well invested. It’s double-duty, really, and almost suicidal considering the odds: not only are you directing the film, but you’re obligated to direct the film-within-the-film, so it’s unimaginable that anyone with a modicum of self-preservation would brave this preposterous stunt.

Enter Takeshi Kitano, cinema’s most solipsistic director this side of Woody Allen, and his latest project, Glory To The Filmmaker!, a bricolage movie dedicated to—what else?—himself. Not since Charlie Kaufmann injected his own life into Adaptation has there been anything to rival the self-aggrandizing exploits of Kitano, whose egotistical projections manifest in nearly every single frame of his newest film.

Kick-starting this freewheeling extravaganza is an anonymous narrator who laments Kitano’s decision to stop making gangster films, a choice the Godly narrator predicts will hurl him into producing a string of empty, unsatisfying movies which will go terribly awry, and he’s right. Kitano can’t make up his mind about who he is as a director, and sets sail on directing a film from every conceivable genre, including an Ozu-esque family drama, a melodramatic love story, a period piece, a horror film and a samurai flick, all of which are soon aborted due to their illogical, purely formal nature, until Kitano (and the narrator) both settle on making a sci-fi picture called The Promised Land, an equally ridiculous movie riddled with eccentric caricatures and silly outbursts starring Kitano himself as the protagonist. Not only is Glory To The Filmmaker! a film about Kitano making various movies, it’s also a movie about him starring in his own movies, a sort of circular self-reflexivity that confounds any and all attempts for him—and the audience—to evaluate himself and his films. To top it off, there’s a life-sized rubber doll, an ersatz Kitano, painted in the same get-up as the director, a sort of physical and metaphoric double for Kitano, who stands in for him when shit hits the proverbial fan.

A wacky spectacle hemorrhaging wacky spectacles, Glory To The Filmmaker! is, truly, something else. In fact, it’s so much something else, one might argue that it’s not even itself.

2009-08-23T05:22:00.001-07:00

FILM Eadweard Muybridge, Zoopraxographer (1975)
Directed by Thom Anderson

Setting the record straight on the anachronism that is film history, Thom Anderson’s essayistic documentary Eadweard Muybridge, Zoopraxographer sheds light on the man who invented cinema before cinema was invented.

Muybridge, a landscape photographer turned zoopraxographer (the worlds first and only), considered himself a scientist whose objective was to capture animal movements using photographs in order to show the movement of the muscles. With a series of sequential pictures of horses running, he stumbled on the most important art form of the 20th century, presenting his photos on a zoopraxoscope as motion pictures nearly two decades before the invention of the movie camera.

However the most fascinating aspect about Muybridge is not that he shot the first film close-ups, or that his refusal to add additional lighting or make-up to his “models” resembled the innovations of Italian Neorealism in the 1940’s, or that his photographs of women commencing in their quotidian activities mirrored the structuralist films made by Chantal Akerman in the 1970’s, or that he developed a method of shooting that looked oddly like Hollywood’s formulaic style popularized in the 1930’s,or that he was on the cusp of realizing film as a narrative form years before Melies; what’s fascinating is that Muybridge was the first director in the history of movies. Indeed, mis-en-scene begins here, with Muybridge reconstructing events and actions (such as a man walking and tipping his hat to an imaginary passerby) instead of capturing them, documentary-style, as they occurred.

Sadly, Anderson explains that because Muybridge used 24 separate cameras to capture motion onto glass plates, his status as the inventor of cinema is refuted by film historians, who state that modern cinema began with a single camera—the cinematograph—and flexable roll film. Anderson agrees, yet offers a clarification: Muybridge’s body of work transformed photographic stills into cinema, which, in its essence, is able to reconstruct the illusion of human motion. Without Muybridge, Anderson muses, perhaps cinema would not exist.