Love, drama, and an extremely shallow depth of field.

Based on the 2013 Sundance Guide description of Mother of George, I wasn't expecting much from this movie by screenwriter Darci Picoult and director Andrew Sosunmu.  In fact, I only picked up a ticket because I needed to fill out my 20-ticket locals-only package and I didn't see anything that looked any better. But I'm glad I saw this film.

Darci Picoult's story opens with a Nigerian wedding in New York City.  Soon after their wedding, Ayodele and Adenike feel immense family and cultural pressure to have a baby.  But that doesn't seem to be in the cards.  As the pressure builds, Ayodele's mother suggests that her daughter in law go to extreme measures to get pregnant.  Those measures work, but at what cost?

This is a carefully crafted story that offers universal appeal, even as it focuses on a very specific community.  Picoult creates a beautiful story arch about love and the mistakes that are often made in the name of love.  The result is a film with controlled tension and drama that keeps the audience enthralled from the first frame to the last.

Mother of George Director Andrew Sosunmu

Picoult's story is ingenious.  But this movie wins because of Sosunmu and his team.  This is one of the most beautiful Sundance films I've ever seen.  The use of color and pattern is spectacular.  The film is frequently shot through glass or sheer fabrics, giving Mother of George a reflective feel.  And the use of focus and depth of field is stunning. In the Q&A after the film Sosunmu noted that his "day job" is as a commercial photographer.  That made sense as this film has the feel of a perfect photograph.

I can't end this post with out mentioning the ending.  This movie has one of those abrupt, Sundance non-ending endings that usually drive me crazy.  But in the hands Picoult and Sosunmu, an ending that leaves you hanging, becomes a magical contemplation on the future.

A walk through a Fallen City.

Qi Zhao seemed truly surprised that so many people showed up late on a Friday night to see his solemn documentary Fallen City. That's one of the joys of Sundance; watching filmmakers respond to the enthusiastic crowds in Salt Lake City. His hope is that as many people in China will get to see the film.  He didn't seem particularly confident that would happen.

Fallen City is exactly the type of movie that belongs at Sundance. It tells the story of three families who survived the 2008 earthquake in China.  The film feels almost epic with its meticulous coverage of four years of these family's lives.  The movie also has a lyrical quality that makes the devastation of the earthquake beautiful.  I loved the portraits of the families which were startling for their honesty.

Those accomplishments don't mean the movie is perfect.  There are multiple moments when the stories of the families lose their focus and film stalls.  In those moments, the movie slows to a crawl.

Fallen City is also a story about Chinese politics, both the good and the bad. As an American, this movie is baffling as you try to understand the way the Chinese government works.  There's criticism of China's leadership which is warranted.  But I have to say, the fact that the Chinese government can build an entire city in two years makes our dysfunctional government seem even more ridiculous.  Even so, I'll take American dysfunction over the options offered in this film any day.

Have you ever had this experience? You're watching a Sundance film and you're sure there's a hidden, deeper meaning or cinematic theme, but you can't figure out what it is.  This movie offers that experience.  There are a lot of insects featured prominently in Fallen City.There are praying mantises,   bees, spiders, aphids, even butterflies. There are enough insect so precisely filmed that I'm sure they're supposed represent a metaphor, or some cinematic homage.  But I can't figure out what that might be.  So if any of you movie savants out there have figured it out, I'd love to hear your thoughts.

I'm not sure Fallen City will be seen by many people outside the film-festival circuit. So I applaud Sundance for doing what they do best; giving voice to important stories that otherwise might not see the light of day.

A science fiction writer, a librarian, and Google walk into a bar.

Director Ben Lewis introduced his documentary film Google and the World Brain by warning audiences that if they expected to see a documentary about Google, they might be disappointed  Instead, he suggested, the movie might be more about libraries and science fiction.  I'd say the movie is about Google.  But I was surprised at how much libraries and the ideas of H. G. Wells factored into the film.

This movie tracks Google's monumental efforts to digitize the world's great library collections.  Lewis makes a valiant effort to be fair.  But in the end, the storyline seems to demonize Google. Don't get me wrong, Google should be taken to task for its disregard of copyright laws.  But I'm not sure this story is as scandalous as the filmmakers want it to be.  And maybe I'm just a sensitive American, but this movie was definitely down on the American corporation, although in a surprisingly charming way.  My favorite character? The director of France's national library, whose French, anti-American snobbery was such a delight that I could have watched an entire movie just about him.

Even if I might take some issues with the intent of the movie, I can't complain about Lewis's craftsmanship as a filmmaker.  The library shots in this film are stunning.  And there's a Spanish server room that is so beautiful, it's hard to believe it's real.  As someone who's traveled the world to photograph data centers for Intel, I'd love to take photographs in that place.

That leads me to  my final comment: It's surprising how similar libraries and data centers are. With their rows and rows of stacks/racks that store the world's knowledge, I can't believe I haven't previously noticed the visual and philosophical similarities.  This movie gave me a new found appreciation for the beauty of both.

A tale of two timed tickets.

This post is about three months late.  But both of these art world events are worth remembering.

Art museums are on a quest to surprise and delight visitors with blockbuster shows by some of the art world’s best stars.  But they’re also delivering on this quest with art that is experiential.  In particular, sculpture is often given over to interactions with viewers.  It makes for extra fun and inspiring trips to museums, but it also creates some problems.  Busy museums like the crowd appeal of interactive sculptures and installations. But with the massive crowds, it can be difficult for museums to give attendees a safe and meaningful experience  That’s where the timed ticket comes in.  These tickets are usually free with museum admission, but they limit the number of people who can participate in the artwork, making the experience more inspiring.

On my last trip to New York, I experienced two timed-ticket events: The first was Tomas Saraceno’s Cloud City on the roof of the Metropolitan Museum of Art; the second was Yayoi Kusama’s Fireflies on the Water at the Whitney Museum of Art.  Normally I’d write a separate post for art events this big.  But even though these two projects are wildly different, I felt they explored similar themes and ideas.  I thought it might be interesting to look at the two works in a single post.

Let’s start with Saraceno’s Cloud City.  For several years now I’ve seen photos of Saraceno’s amazing works with their giant clear bubbles that people climb onto and into and I dreamed of experiencing one of his installations.  So when I learned that Saraceno was chosen as the artist to appear on the roof of the Met this summer I was very excited.  Part of my enthusiasm stemmed from the fact that this is the Argentinian artist’s first major commission in the United States.

Cloud City is the largest and most ambitious structure in a series of works called Cloud Cities/Airport City. The work on the roof of the Met is a "constellation of sixteen interconnected multipolygonal modules linked in a nonlinear configuration.”  That’s a description that probably suits an artist who was originally trained as an architect.  It certainly doesn't accurately represent the art.  Cloud City is a three dimensional, human-sized bee hive of Plexiglas and mirror-finished steel. From the outside it forces you to see your environment even as it asks you to focus solely on the work of art. Each time you try to focus on the sculpture, you’re given reflected views and vistas of the world that surrounds you.  From the inside it’s a world of fun-house mirrors that force you to confront images of yourself, almost to infinity; a surprisingly contemplative work.  The curators at the Met suggest this work is an “investigation of how to expand the ways in which we inhabit and experience our environment.”  I loved it.  Here are a few photos. (By the way, no cameras are allowed inside the structure.  It helps to have a friend on the ground taking picture while you're inside.)

At the Whitney, Yayoi Kusama's Fireflies on the Water was a much different experience.  For this work, you wait patiently in a white gallery for 10 to 15 minutes.  When your turn arrives, a gallery attendant opens a door in the wall of the gallery, let's you into the sculpture, and starts a stopwatch, giving you 60 seconds inside.   During that minute, you're enclosed in a dark, mirrored room.  You walk out on a small gangplank to stand on a tiny platform in the middle of the room.  You're surrounded by still water.  Tiny LED lights are suspended from the ceiling.  The mirrored walls of the room (including the ceiling) create an infinite space that expands the perception of not just space, but also time.  It's a call to contemplation; a moment to ponder not just our place in the present, but our place in the universe.  

No photos were allowed inside Fireflies on the Water.  So instead, I offer a portrait of Kusama inside the work of art. And just for fun, I'm also posting a photo I took of a Louis Vuitton window display in Tokyo.  Louis Vuitton created a line of products designed by Kusama at about the same time her show debuted at the Whitney.  I saw several window displays for the products, but only at this Tokyo store did the strange visage of Kusama that is seen in the portrait make another appearance.

Book ten: Penguin Lost by Andrey Kurkov

I liked Andrey Kurkov's Death of a Penguin so much that I immediately purchased the sequel, Penguin Lost.  And I'm glad I did.  Because these two short books might just be better as a single volume.  Penguin Lost opens with the same melancholy feel that ended the first book.  Viktor Zolotaryov seems intent on remedying the melancholy so has decided to find his penguin (Misha) and bring him home.  The wisdom of this decision is suspect, since Viktor believes Misha has fallen into the hands of a criminal mob.  And that mob may be looking for Viktor.

Viktor works his way through a number of mob members, only to discover that Misha may actually be in the possession of a Chechen warlord.  Finally he embarks on a dangerous and precarious trip where he encounters many strange characters and engages in equally strange activities.  It's at this point in my review I should probably issue a spoiler alert.  Viktor succeeds at finding Misha.  I won't tell you much more than that.  But this end to the story is the reason why I think the two books work better as a single volume.  It completes the story arch.  The first book starts with quirky, interesting characters that are offbeat, downtrodden, and yet somehow lovable.  It sadly ends without letting you know what has happened to Misha, the best character in the books.  The second book starts with that same feeling of sadness.  But by the time the book ends, you've returned to the offbeat likability of the beginning of the entire tale.  

Art class for grown ups.

AIGA Salt Lake City and the Mandate Press hosted Jim Sherraden for a printmaking workshop.  Sherraden is the current caretaker of Hatch Show Print, one of America's oldest show poster and design shops located in Nashville. For the workshop, we used many of Hatch's linoleum cuts, woodblocks, and etched magnesium blocks. It was a surprisingly relaxing way to spend a morning.  And there's something extra fun about making a mess with a bunch of ink and paper.

This activity also reminded me that it's my job to be creative.  Lately it seems that I've become overwhelmed by the business of advertising.  My focus on creativity may have suffered.  Spending four hours making visuals with blocks and ink was a great way to re-invigorate creativity.

I have to give a big shout out to the Mandate Press.  It's a fantastic space with all kinds of cool, printy stuff everywhere.  I may have a letterpress project or two that the Mandate Press could help me with.

I leave you with a few photos from the day including images of many of the prints I made.  Although I can't take credit for the circus t-shirt, but I had to share it because it made me giggle.

The art of the Christmas stocking: part three

The stats for Art Lobster show that previous posts about my custom made Christmas stockings are getting plenty of traffic this time of year.  (You can read those posts here and here.)  The increased views served as a reminder that it's time to post images of the 2011 stocking which I call Hello Christmas.

2011 saw me vacationing in Japan so it seemed only appropriate to concoct a stocking that would pay tribute to one of Japan's greatest ambassadors, Hello Kitty. So here she is looking as "kawaii" as ever.  And yes, the black kanji characters at the top spell "Jeff."  

The 2012 stocking is already under production but as always it's top secret until Christmas.  Expect a post next year.