I'd never heard of Robert Adams before I saw his show at SFMOMA. Called "Turning Back," the photos document the destruction of the old-growth forests that Lewis & Clark passed through on their journey westward. The title refers to the implications and complications of westward advancement. When Lewis and Clark reached the West Coast, they turned back and headed east; the vast devastation in Adams's photos conveys the sense that — these days — there's no turning back."Turning Back" is bound to strike a chord with people. It evokes indelible American ideals and icons — the natural beauty of America, the promise inherent in the West, the bravery of Lewis & Clark — and presents it in a format and style eerily reminscent to another photographer named Adams — Ansel. Whereas Ansel's classic photos endeavor to communicate the vastness and beauty of America, the best of Robert's manage to convey an equally vast devastation.While I walked through the show, I thought a lot about my hike on the PCT, which took me through a few of the same forests featured in the show. As I approached the northern part of the west coast, I was pretty curious about the clear cuts. Of course I knew that it would be depressing, but really I had no idea what to expect. I imagined a sort of Lorax‑y landscape of smooth hills dotted with little stumps.As I hiked through the vast clear cuts of Northern California, Oregon and Washington, I was stunned *not* by the absence of trees, but the obvious brutality surrounding their removal. In the newer clear-cut areas, there was upturned earth everywhere, huge mounds of soil, mangled stumps — I've never been on a battlefield, but there's probably more a few similarities between the two. In some places, the dirt mounds and fallen trees completely obliterated the trail, and we had to do some pretty thorough route-finding before we made it through.In the areas that had been clear-cut years before, the trees grew in thick clumps. One didn't so much hike through them as swim, or claw, or climb. The small trees were themselves fighting for space, and their branches were so densely interwoven that the ground was invisible for hundreds of yards around. In the mornings, before the dew evaporated, one could easily get soaked in the space of twenty yards while pushing through the branches.Adams's photos convey the brutality and upheaval well, though I really wished that context had been provided along with each photo — where was it taken? when? what used to be there? I wanted to connect with specifics of geography and fit the pieces together.
The Twin Cities are still full of good times, especially when the mercury plunges. A couple of weekends ago, I enjoyed the chill with my friends Fish, Katie and Becky (pictured, in front of the new wing at the Walker). The highlights:
- Vietnamese sandwiches at the Jasmine Deli on Nicollet. Their sandwiches are fabulous, especially the BBQ chicken.
- The new and improved Walker. Twin Cities residents seem ambivalent — some love it, others are underwhelmed — but I was really impressed with the way that the new wing blends into the old, and the manner in which they space itself still seems intimate and surprising. Plus, it's open late on Friday nights; how great is that? The Walker's video installations have always been great, and I was really glad to catch a few moments of Jem Cohen's "Lost Book Found" and "Blood Orange Sky" as we walked through — worth reading: A long, detailed interview with Jem Cohen by Rhys Graham. Also, an entire room dedicated to Sherrie Levine, a cabinet full of Fluxus stuff (still cool after all these years of imitators), and a great exhibit of Huang Yong Ping that included some live spiders and scorpions.
- Good, solid Midwestern dishes prepared Chez Panisse-style (local, organic, a little French) at Auriga. They also serve Kona coffee.
- Weird Norweigan snacks and crazy folk-art murals at Ingebretsons, a store that sells all sorts of Scandanavian crafts and gifts. Even weirder because it's in a somewhat bombed-out part of Lake Street.
- A little waterfall in the middle of the city, Minnehaha Falls. Totally worth seeing, especially in winter.
- Fish and Katie's totally awesome 60's‑style neighborhood movie theater, The Riverview, that shows fairly new movies for THREE DOLLARS. Are you kidding me? Plus, it has been totally restored, and totally reminds me of the heyday of Kansas City's Glenwood, which I think has recently been gutted of all the 60's schmaltz.
Music / Konono #1 lights it up
Last night, Konono #1 played the Palace of Fine Arts. Before the show, I was a little worried that their scruffy, off-kilter sound may get washed-out by the fancy sound-system of the PoFA, and that they may end up sounding like lame-ass Ashkenaz-style "world music."But from the first moment, they totally ruled, and their signature sound — with homemade electric pick-ups for their ikembes (thumb pianos), dented metal discs serving as cymbals, and MASH-style megaphones as a PA — was faithfully recreated. The PoFA is a chamber-music-style venue with cushy seats and little room to boogie, but most of the crowd was standing and dancing by the third song, and groups crowded at the sides of the stage to improvise a little dance floor. Their final song was an epic, 45-minutes trance-inducing jam that had everyone clapping and chanting along with the track-suit-clad front man.Most remarkable was the vitality of it all, the sense that there was something essential and healthy and real being created. Each band member's intense, insistent presence was spell-binding, especially the older guy in the blue baseball hat who traded off with Mingiedi (the leader, pictured) on the thumb piano and percussion. He was locked into a serious groove the whole night, banging out precise rhythms, and belting out crisp, deep monotone harmonies that were jarring but somehow perfect. It's not often that San Francisco crowds get up and shake their asses, so it was especially impressive that Konono #1 made dancing in a concert hall on Sunday night seem totally natural.
Art / LACMA garage RIP
Soon, the garage outside the LA County Museum of Art is getting torn down to make way for some big new building. Unfortunately, it's got some really excellent murals by Barry McGee and Margaret Kilgallen that I checked out when I was there a couple of summers ago.The LA Weekly says:
Now's the time to check out the celebration of street art it has become since October 2000, when husband and wife team Barry McGee and Margaret Kilgallen were commissioned to bomb the second floor of the structure in commemoration of the show "Made in California."Over the last five years, Kilgallen's smoking, trudging, scowling women and McGee's signature sad-sack faces and meticulously drawn messages have inspired uncoerced homages from several locally and internationally known artists: N.Y.-based graffiti trio FAILE's collage stencils; Spanish tagger PEZ's bubbly alien figures, and Obey Giant guru Shepard Fairey's looming wheat-paste policeman.
It wouldn't be as sad if Margaret K. was still around to bomb another garage, but the fact that she's not makes the disappearance of this free and public place even harder to take. Sucks.The whole story: "Oil on Concrete".UPDATE: An excellent critique of LACMA's decision to tear down the garage, written by art critic and blogger Tyler Green.
One of my favorite neighborhood art spots is called Creativity Explored, "a nonprofit visual arts center where artists with developmental disabilities create, exhibit, and sell art." Or so it says on its website.At first, I felt conflicted about Creativity Explored. Much of the art is geniunely impressive, and a few of the artists are quite talented and produce truly beautiful work. But the greatness is complicated by the artists' disabilities. So many works seem truly unique, yet you can't shake the feeling that you're admiring the product of the very thing that prevents the artist from living a "normal" life.The fact is that I really like a lot of it, especially the handwriting/drawings of John Patrick McKenzie. John's handwriting is bold and jaunty in a way that, at first, makes it look like a cross between graffiti and first-grade. But then beyond the initial impression, it becomes clear that the page is often organized very precisely. As he tends to color in the enclosed areas of each letter — the interior of an R, D, P, etc — the page takes on a heavier graphic dimension.Content-wise, each work of John's works is thematic, though "thematic" may be too fancy a term for it. Each contains a set of words or phrases that is shuffled in a variety of ways throughout the work, though some others just contain seemingly random individual words written again and again. Humor (probably unintentional) often arises from his selection of the names of stars of the 60's and 70's in his work, as well as fellow Creativity Explored artists.Generally, he'll pick a subject — for instance, the 1964 Chevy Impala — and he'll write a series of statements about how certain people feel about the subject. "Bruce Lee likes the 1964 Chevy Impala. Doris Tokuda likes the 1964 Chevy Impala," etc. The work above has a slightly different arrangement: "Sylvester Stallone likes Chef Boyardee … Muhammad Ali likes soul food."Sometimes, the subject of the work veers away from the literal. John has developed a sort of code for referring to all sorts of subjects, so you'll see phrases like "redneck pizza sheriff," "spring chicken," "cold turkey," "avocado ice cream," and many others used in strange contexts. Sometimes they're code, sometimes they're just what they are. Someone once told me that "avocado ice cream" is code, but recently a teacher at CE theorized that John had recently eaten at Mitchell's.Like much outsider art, John's work is exotic — the and it's hard to admire and discuss it without fetishizing the condition that contributes to it. But you could also say that John's work makes this less of an issue because it is so visually appealing, and often so poetic.The SF Weekly wrote an article about John in 2002: "Osama bin Laden dislikes kelloggs frosted mini wheats"
For the last three days, I served on a jury in a civil trial in San Francisco Superior Court. It was a personal injury case stemming from an auto accident on the Bay Bridge in 2002. The plaintiff sought cash for physical and mental suffering, inconvenience, loss of enjoyment of life, and about six other things. I had some idea of how totally jacked California personal injury law is. After seeing the way that this case played out, I am shocked and depressed by it.The facts. There was no question that the defendant (a round-ish kid from outside Sacramento) rear-ended the plaintiff (an Asian lady from El Cerrito). The question was: Was there enough evidence of actual harm to award some kind of money? The plaintiff's car was unharmed by the collision. She drove home immediately afterward. An expert witness argued that the collision could not have been more than a slight bump. In my opinion, the plaintiff offered no evidence to support her argument. She claimed various types of harm: 18 months of back problems, inability to have intimate relations with her husband (ouch), general family dissolution. But her tearful testimony was the only evidence of her suffering. There was no testimony or deposition from her doctor, no medical records, no police report, no testimony from her husband or kids; moreover, she continued to work immediately after the accident and admitted that she missed no work — including business trips to China and Seattle — as a result.Our task. We had a total of four questions to answer; but if we ruled "no" on any of the first three, our work was done. Case closed. The first question: Was the defendant was negligent? If we agreed he was negligent, question two: Was the plaintiff harmed? If so, question three: Was the defendant a substantial factor in the harm? Finally, if he was: How much money should be awarded for the harm?1. Was the defendant negligent? Umm, yeah. The guy rear-ended her. Hard to say he wasn't. Still, you had to feel bad for him. He was working at a pizza place at the time of the accident, and you had to know that he was fearing some kind of huge verdict. Nevertheless, his testimony was unconvincing. A "reasonably careful" person would not rear-end a car in that situation, even if he was sneezing, as he claimed. About half the jury initially wanted to say that he was not negligent, but the rest of us had a hard time ruling that he wasn't. He wasn't paying attention. A reasonably careful person would have been paying attention. After 10 minutes of discussion, we came to a decision: 12 yes, 0 no.2. Was the plaintiff harmed? This is where it got testy. I personally believed that if we said "yes" to this, we were going to have to award damages. So I argued (at length) that she wasn't harmed, and at first 7 other jurors agreed. We only needed one more to turn to our side to win — in California, you only need 9 out of 12 jurors to agree on a point to come to a decision. Unfortunately, one of the characteristics of harm was "inconvenience." The minority argued — persuasively enough, as it turned out — that the fact that she had to stop on the Bay Bridge during crazy weekend traffic was enough to say that she was harmed. Eventually, they had the required 9, including three other young guys who I thought were going to be faithful allies (they were from the Mission, Upper Haight, and Potrero Hill). Interestingly, the other two who believed that she wasn't harmed were women: one was an older Asian lady (Sunset), and another was a young woman from the Marina. Final score: 9 yes, 3 no.3. Was the defendant a substantial cause of the harm? It was really hard to say "no" to this if you said "yes" to the above question because of inconvenience. I started to get really nervous that we were going down a path where we were going to award her some money because she got bumped on the Bay Bridge, and claimed to have incurred all sorts of hardship. Again: 9 yes, 3 no.Aside: It was pretty clear that the accident was traumatic to the plaintiff; she cried throughout the trial, and her rendition of the accident made it sound pretty scary. It happened over the weekend, so the traffic was crazy, and the defendant handled himself badly. BUT, she didn't file a suit until two years later, didn't keep receipts for medical treatment, didn't have any testimony from doctors or family members. Without any of this, it seemed insane, really, to say with any certainty that she was harmed. It's not like it's hard to produce this evidence. C'mon!4. How much is the plaintiff entitled to for her mental/physical suffering? At this point, the foreman used the whiteboard to write out each element of physical and mental suffering (loss of enjoyment of life, inconvenience, etc), laying out a framework where we would agree on a value for each thing. In California, juries are given no guidelines for determining the award; we're left to our own devices.The foreman said, "I'm just going to throw out a figure. $5000." Upper Haight guy said, "$3000." Another two women chimed in with $3000. Immediately, there were four people who wanted to award money for her unsupported claims. Luckily, Potrero Hill and Mission guys were even more passionate than me about this, and they immediately articulated an argument that I hadn't expected: that inconvenience on the Bay Bridge has a monetary value of ZERO dollars. The three Asian ladies immediately agreed, as did the Marina lady.The foreman kept proposing figures — "Okay, how about $2000?" — but Potrero Hill guy interjected: "Hey, we've got 8 people who believe that she shouldn't get anything. You're in the minority. You need to come to us." Eventually, we were arguing about whether or not to award $250. Finally, a little after 4pm, the foreman cracked: "Okay, fine. Zero dollars." And justice was served: 9 $0, 3 $250.But the depressing thing was how easy it was to assign monetary damages, how much the logic of the law seemed destined to lead to it. Upper Haight guy was brainwashed by it. Even though he could never articulate a pragmatic reason why she should get any money, he kept referring to the jury instructions and saying, "I'm just following these rules. She was inconvenienced, and now we have to assign a value to that." The foreman was sympathetic — he had family members who had been in a much worse position and got no money — which he acknowledged was not a valid legal reason, but it took him an hour before he abandoned this. As the verdict was read — negligent, harmed, substantial cause of harm — the defendant looked scared, and his attorney looked depressed. Then, the big fat $0 of damages, and everything changed. The plaintiff's attorney slumped, and the plaintiff began crying again. The defendant was relieved, and the judge actually looked relieved as well. Justice was served. Barely.
Photos / Underwater buildings
Sometimes, the crappy lens on my Motorola v220 produces interesting effects. Recently, it has started compressing the depth of field, and at the same time, arbitrarily fuzzing out objects. When directed at buildings in full late-afternoon light, it actually makes things look like they're in an aquarium.
If you're like me, one of your favorite parts of seeing new cities is checking out the logo(s) of their public transit system. Nowadays you don't even need to travel to these cities to appreciate their variety; here's a site with an amazingly thorough catalog.
Fresh Air interview w/ Mike Mills
Mike Mills is a graphic designer, director of many excellent music videos (among them: "Kelly Watch the Stars," by Air, the one with the 70's‑looking slow-motion ping-pong players), and all-around aesthetic bad-ass. Terry Gross interviewed him on Fresh Air a couple of weeks ago, and you can check out the archived version on the NPR website. It includes a funny anecdote about his experience as an apprentice for a well-known Scottish artist — at the risk of giving away the ending, Mills didn't assist in the creation of the work as much as he created the work for the artist, who was too hungover to do it himself. Here's a really comprehensive collection of his video work, including "Kelly Watch the Stars."Incidentally, when I was growing up, a different Mike Mills was the bassist for my favorite rock band c. 1985–88 — REM. You can hear his thin, poignant harmonizing on Murmur, Reckoning, Fables of the Reconstruction, Life's Rich Pageant, Dead Letter Office, and Document. (Don't bother with anything after Document; it's all downhill from there). Let's hear it for all Mike Millses!