Song Of The Day

The Preakness Stakes Horse Race

                      

                               In what is known as the second jewel in the Triple Crown of  Horse racing, the Preakness happens later today down at Pimlico Race-track in Baltimore, Maryland. 14 horses will go at it in this particular race.(Its good to know that this is not the only race of the day. It happens to be race 12 out of 13; Of course this is by far the most important one of the day. It is afterall, the 136th Preakness Stakes. It also happens to be the one with worth the most in terms of how much the winner gets. {Million dollar purse.})
Anyways, to cut to the chase: I'm choosing 'Shackleford' to win by a nose over 'Midnight Interlude'.
That's my pick. I think I'll play an exacta and then just 'Shackleford' straight up to win. He might be the fastest horse in the race and he led for most of the Kentucky Derby before being soundly beaten but here the track length for this race is much shorter. If he can get out a head and get a clean run or if he sits behind Astrology and then takes him late I think he's got a good chance. How ever the hell he does is just fine with me.
So now you know. Place your bets. Let's all go win money.

Word Of The Day

foofaraw \FOO-fuh-raw\, noun:

1. Excessive or flashy ornamentation or decoration.
2. A fuss over a matter of little importance.

Example: "The novel, written about homeless men living in a facility for Veterans, could not be written in an ornate, flashy style. This was no foofaraw. These were the lives of real men." -Shuble Morgan

Song Of The Day

'Badlands' at The Museum of the Moving Image

                                God damn, what a great movie. Rarely does a film in all its aspects seamlessly contribute to the totality of the vision. An early 20's Martin Sheen is amazing; his every move is a natural extension of his character. There is no doubting his star power. Sissy Spacek is a perfectly balanced blend of bizzare, naive and girly. (They are two young people on the run from the law in the Badlands region of Montana.) Everything works to add to the story. The cinematography, the landscapes, the soundtrack, the editing, the dialogue, the bits of dry humor sprinkled here and there before and after multiple killings, the sense of playfulness within the chemistry of the two leads. It all works and it all adds up to a genuine American Masterpiece of a Motion Picture. Director Terence Malick burst on to the scene with this, his 1973 debut feature. This is, for me, the rare film that I can't even knit-pickingly find some small flaw. (Unincidentally a film that should be seen on the big screen.) If I had some Ebertesque rating system, I'd give it the max. You'll even notice how later films like 'True Romance' borrow heavily from this movie. Shit, anybody who truly cares about experiencing  good films should have this on their 'absolutely-must-fucking-see-list'.
Terence Malick's 1973 debut Film, 'Badlands'.

Song Of The Day

Song Of The Day

Richard Serra at The Met

                        
                  So I went to visit the recently opened Richard Serra exhibit at The Metropolitan Museum of Art the other day. By my estimation he is one of the most famous and influential and prolific American artists still living and working today. Now he made his name(and rightfully so) with large scale steel sculptures experienced sometimes in public, site-specific places but this particular retropspective features everything except what he is primarily known for. No sculptures here--yet as you walk through each room and spend some time with each piece, the Richard Serra signature becomes apparent.
Here we get drawings, notebook doodles, three videos from the 1960's  but mostly(and this was my favorite part anyway) we get large wall size or half-wall size pieces painted black using a custom built 'paintstick' as he calls it on either Belgian Linen or Hiromi Paper. In his world we do well to think about weight, gravity, process, material, and our own bodies experience with those things.
These works are not about image. When you confront or are confronted by one of these massive black Belgian Linen pieces tight against the wall so that the whole what was once a spacious white room is fundamentally altered and your feeling about where you are is altered too. In the last room these giant black rectangles(in other rooms they are triangles in the corners) reached the ceiling some 50 ft high and as you approached they became a towering barrier but only a barrier if you were trying to look into them, through them. These were not walls of airy darkness. Despite their scale and solid black color, these were not something you looked into as though it was a window on another dimension or whatever. In these pieces there is nothing 'out there' or 'in there' because these are not portals or like looking up at a night-time sky. This is physicality. This is material. This is not to help illusion. This is about physical interaction in the present. If you're a big fan of all things colorful, you prolly aint gonna dig this jam. There are no other colors except black in any of the work. Using his custom paintstick which was a combination of crayon, oil, wax, and pigment, he plays on similar themes by varying how thick or thin he paints it on. The exhibit itself is called 'Drawings' but I can't see how these particular pieces(and there are quite a few) are to be considered drawings; not that its a big deal. It isn't. (I'm not covering every piece in the in exhibit in this post.)
In terms of the notebooks under glass cases with certain pages open to the viewer, we see basically a hyper creative individual doodling. If these weren't the notebooks of Richard Serra one gets the impression they wouldn't garner such spotlight. In one room of pieces from the 1970's, the glare from the plexi-glass or whatever it was makes it impossible not to see a reflection. It totally distracts the viewer from the work. This I have noticed is becoming more and more a problem in museums. I realize the need to a have a protective see-thru shield of some kind but find something that doesn't function as mirror and totally change the experience of what we are supposed to be looking at.
All in all, Richard Serra restores my belief in the relevance of a brand of Art for Arts sake that I don't mind subscribing to. I'm gonna go back to the Met next week and take a look again and see what happens.

Song Of The Day

Herzog's Newest Film, 'Cave of Forgotten Dreams' (3-D)

          

                        The subject matter: 35 thousand year-old cave paintings in the Chaveut Cave in southern France--a cave that was only discovered in 1994. Permitted to use a small crew with cold-lit battery powered lights and forced to stay on a narrow steel walkway and touch nothing-- Werner Herzog shows us both the images left by these pre-historic human beings as best he can,(horses, bison, mammoths, now extinct cave lions, bears, human hand prints) and the particular geological beauty of the cave itself while juxtaposing all that with interviews of the various scientists who are engaged in studying the cave in all its many facets.
                         The traces of human activity adorned on these cavern walls should be of interest to most human beings who are even remotely curious as to what being a human was like 35,000 years ago. Herzog calls the cave paintings 'art' but these cave dwellers didn't have any notion of 'art for art's sake. These images were their lives and exhibited a closeness to animals that I don't think we can really comprehend in modern times.
                         There is certainly great mystery instilled in these pictures. Mysteries that have to do with what it meant to be alive and interacting with your natural environment as this early day and age.  We still don't know why exactly they painted a horse, one lapping over the other in a row of about five. Or why a bear skull is found up on raised platform. Were these depictions part of a spiritual ritual? The Chaveut Cave is without a doubt one of the most significant archeological sites in the world and from this we can ruminate on our great ancestors but all of this is not to say that 'Cave of Forgotten Dreams' is a great cinematic experience.The 3-D is at times kinda cool but more often it dims everything too much. The lighting in the cave from the filmmakers lights are pale and cold to begin with so at times it just made for a discomforting visual. And then Herzog adds his quirky and sometimes silly voice-over narration making dubious claims here and there for example that some of the depictions could be seen as a proto-type for cinema. Maybe. Doubtful.
                       And then a scene where everyone gets quiet and we're deep in a chamber--and we hear heart beats getting louder and louder and Herzog loves these hokey dramatic effects but really, it's kinda dumb. For people that already adore this man's films,(or the mythology surrounding the man himself) you will prolly love this as well. (You should also know that a few seats away from where I was sitting a man had dozed off so what does that tell you.) It may be the case that there are parts of the film that just come off as too repetitious and a lil' boring.
                      Now because it was in 3D it cost 17 Dollars for one ticket.(This was at IFC Center.) That is one expensive movie to go see. And I'm also left with the feeling that like all great art that has to do with painting, if its to be truly experienced and appreciated you need to be there and see it in person. Maybe for the youtube generation this is close enough.  3-D is no savior. And there's not a chance in hell the French Government would let me or you get inside. So I guess if this was a typical movie review I would say if you got 17 bucks to throw around, go ahead and see it.

Weather Report

                           There's a gang of birds whistlin dixie or who knows what with their soft plumage warm. Sunlight is out over everything. Flowers bloom and burst and live out their colorful lives in this new spring season as an old Italian lady sweeps her steps and then the sidewalk in front of her house that doesn't look like houses in Ohio. The trees have their new green leaves and are perfectly content to soak up the sun. Here and then a little breeze dances past but you should know that there's an awful lot of concrete too.A plane soars in the pure blue sky. A squirrel scampers. At night asleep, he dreams of  forests.  Two people walk down the street conversing in a language I can't quite identify. Cars cruise by with their windows down. Temps in the low 60's but here comes a cloud or two to remind folks to wear something long sleeve, to remind us that we're never too far from something huge to fuck it all up.

Song Of The Day

Song Of The Day

Public Submitted Poem Of The Day

(From the Haunted Briefings of NFL Quarterbacks)

I wonder if Vinny Testaverde drives a Lamborghini and a
Hot one follows him around to the tanning salon in the valley of the shadow of death.
Or if he's a laid back family man, sheparding the health and prosperity of those he loves the most.
Or if any old fans or haters, throw eggs at his mansion in the middle of the night
Or at midnight.
This seems about right.

-Shubel Morgan (Western Reserve, Ohio)

NYC Observations(Cheap Cell-Phone Snapshots)

What I Should Do

                            I could be fussing and still pissed at the fact that I was kicked out of the 'of montreal' show at Webster Hall on Saturday night because some lame guy was mad that I was bumping into him I guess and was trying to start shit with me even though it's supposed to be a let loose fun and dancy concert where physical contact in a fun non-violent way is the norm; which it was until this asshole guy couldn't just drop it so I grabbed his shirt--but then my roommate quickly separated us and everything seemed fine. Next thing I know some big security guard has made his way to the middle of the crowd and is non-chalantely asking me to follow him. Which to my detriment, I did. I followed him as he lead me outside, marked two big 86's in black magic marker on my hand and left me on the front sidewalk. Bastard.
                            I could be ruminating on last night's announcement that Osama Bin Laden had been killed by US Navy Seals in a night time raid just north of Islamabad, Pakistan. People were cheering in Times Square, Ground Zero, and in front of the White House but I'm not sure celebrating the death of any other human being is a cool thing to do. I mean I'm glad we got the man responsible for so many innocent deaths but c'mon. What's humanity after all? And my Father is still out of work and my Mother can't afford to pay her hospital bills.
I could continue reading David Mitchell's mysterious 'Cloud Atlas'.(I'm on page 157.)
I could take a hot bath with David Mitchell's 'Cloud Atlas' and rest my tired muscles and hope I never grow old while eating left over Easter candy--afterwards climb into bed-- and in the morning I could take the subway to ground zero by myself to spend several moments where I would be totally and utterly--- silent.