One-a-Day | Flower Eater

Primate Culture and the Futile Uncool

Before I even got inside Kai Lin gallery to scope out Greg Mike’s Popstars and Cokeheads show it was clear the place was packed with pretty people (Pw/PP). Though unrelated, this seemed strangely incongruous with my car’s still mangled left headlight. In the thirty minutes I was there, I probably spent about thirty seconds actively looking at the art on display, such was the Adobe illustrator-ish simplicity of the work in comparison to the heaving mass of neon, black leather, and spandex-prone fashionistas. I haven’t been out much recently and it was a refreshing spectacle; one couldn’t walk ten feet without running into an apprentice popstar or a burgeoning cokehead. I saw some man pants so taut they made my scrotum wince. I was relieved when I spotted Sean Falyon, who was in an Adolf Dassler jacket that blended seamlessly with the art behind him. It took me a moment to register that he was camouflaged in fuschia. We caught up on recent events and he introduced me to some people he knew. I knew my time was up as the crowd consensus veered towards ‘let’s go to the afterparty at Halo.’ The last time I was there, about two years ago, my tab was traumatic and a blatantly siliconed lady I’d just met tried to pawn me off on her tearful friend, like I was supposed to somehow fix the situation.

I drove a few blocks, parked and went down some slippery stairs into the netherworld of Archive gallery. A dense cloud of smoke hovered by the ceiling as several people were smoking inside. Adding to my art viewing difficulties was the fact that the place was dimly lit. This didn’t seem to deter the duct tape and cigarette-scented folks who were hanging out. I touched base (don’t you just hate that term) with Ben Grad who was one of the photographers showing. I saw a car-light-streak-photo-collage piece titled ‘Squids’ that instantly made it into my vault of long term memory. I found a dark corner (there were several) and listened briefly to a band performing. During a break between songs the lead singer/guitarist said something like, “I lost my job to play this show. My boss said if I didn’t work tonight he’d have to fire me, and I’m here now… We’ve got some CDs, they’re free, but if you want to pay for them, that would be great too.” I checked his palms for stigmata, but none were visible.

Unlike the previous two stops, I’d been to Picaflor once before. I remember finding a stray wallet on the street, which the door person successfully returned to its owner. I’m still awaiting my karmic compensation, but something tells me it doesn’t work that way. I caught up with Ryan McGookey and John Katz, fellow Emory alumns I randomly run into about once every three months. John was by the door chatting to a pretty brunette who seemed to be in charge. I didn’t want to pay to get in and with some help from John she was kind enough to indulge me. I ran into Mike Germon and we realized we’d been to the same places with me lagging about half an hour behind. We toyed with the idea of doing a collaborative blog about the night, but for whatever reason that petered out. That’s probably for the best, the more I think about it the more collaborative writing seems like an awful idea.

[ Total Digression ]

My sister Tinashe recently recommended I watch a few films by Rahim Bahrani. I’ve since seen Goodbye Solo and Chop Shop. They’re both unrelenting films about the hardscrabble lives of first generation immigrants in the US. Chop Shop has no soundtrack at all which gives it an attritional cumulative weight that becomes discomfiting as we see the main character struggle against the socio-economic tide with little hope of success. Goodbye Solo dangles the carrot of a potential happy ending to the central character’s travails, before ending abruptly when his cab disappears out of view, leaving us with a vacant feeling of unresolved absence. Chop Shop teases in similar fashion with the hope that buying a decrepit van to cook and sell food out of will be the first step towards a better life. Maybe then Isamar can stop selling late night favors to truckers up the street. But there’s no neat ribbon ending, the films just end, and all one can do is turn to hulu for a sitcom to clear one’s palette.

These aren’t fun films. Even in the horror genres, they’re something awfully stimulating about the repulsive gore, or just straight up wrongness on screen. The two films I’ve seen thus far engaged me in a way a documentary on the same topics wouldn’t have. Documentary narrators are like tour guides, having that intermediary instantly creates more distance than presenting it as a frank but ‘fictional’ narrative. I watched Goodbye Solo and Chop Shop to be entertained, but was more engaged and hyper-alert when I didn’t get my cotton candy. Both films seem to have the traditional narrative arc until about halfway through when that frame of reference becomes untenable. Goodbye Solo has one visually beautiful scene shot in the North Carolina Mountains during autumn, but other than that they employ minimal artifice. I got the sense Bahrani could have used more bells and whistles, but chose to abstain from doing so. Some of his directorial decisions (according to imdb he even named the main characters with the actors’ real names) reminded me a lot of Dogma films and their rigid ‘un-cinematic’ ideology. Which in turn reminds me of the Stuckists. Neither of these groups are mere luddites or primitivists. They’re not so much about resisting ‘progress’ as fending off what they may see as perversions of the core ethos of the arts by those with a stake in doing so. If that’s the case, then it makes sense that the Dogme manifesto reads like the film equivalent of the Stuckist manifesto as both seem to be responses to the industrialization (the increasing emphasis on technology and capital in lieu of storytelling and hand-craftsmanship) of the arts, epitomized by the likes of Jeff Koons’ manufactured objects and James Cameron’s ‘Avatar’.

State of the Game II

The more things change, the more they stay the same. Fed won the Australian Open (again) in straight sets, leaving Andy Murray tearfully disappointed after getting perfunctorily spanked on international television. Murray’s serve and nerve let him down in the final, while Fed did what Fed does - win tennis matches.

As Murray sniffed back tears during the trophy ceremony, even I felt bad for him despite his on-court demeanor often grating me to no end. Murray seems to delight in making good players play badly, even if he has to inhibit his own play to do so. I’d rather see a match wherein both players compete to the best of their abilities, and may the better player win. Of course, the point of any sport is to win, but as someone watching, I want to be entertained and have my aesthetic preferences satisfied to some degree. Murray played very well leading up to the final, particularly in his quarter-final win over Nadal. That match had many tennis fans thinking he’d decided to drop the ‘counter’ from his usual counter-punching tactics. Unfortunately, run-and-gun aggressive gameplay runs counter to Murray’s natural tendencies, which could be summarized as “Tickle-Torture-Tennis™.” Like a good point guard in basketball, Murray sometimes appears to have a handle on the ball, able to maneuver it around at mid-pace regardless of how hard his opponent hits it. He moves well, reads the angles and opponents’ tactics, has a great backhand and a good, BUT not scary, forehand. Few of his peers have as versatile a backhand, but some have downright obnoxious forehands that can end a point abruptly and on their own terms.

Many tennis aficianados love Murray’s game, his point construction, spin and depth variation, rhythm breaking tactics, etc. When he’s on it’s great, but it takes an awful lot of confidence to have all those moving parts working well. Often there seems to be a little too much thinking going on, and when things aren’t going his way against a big hitter he can’t simply red line his forehand until he gets a foothold in a match.

The most positive development from the tournament was the continued emergence of Marin Cilic as a serious contender. He beat a weary, but game, Del Potro in a very tough 5 set match before running out of steam against Murray in the semis. I think Cilic has the natural attacking game to win the big tournaments. His court positioning is great, he stalks the baseline, takes the ball early and doesn’t hesitate to move to net when the opportunity’s there. He has less power than Del Potro, but has more nuance and I get the sense he can figure out ways to win when he’s outgunned. Del Potro’s never outgunned these days, which is a great position to be in, but I hope he continues to work on other aspects of his game. If he does so and retains that nuclear forehand of his, I can imagine him steamrolling people on a regular basis. At a towering 6′6″ it’s easy to forget that he’s the youngest player in the top 10.

Not to state the obvious, but it would be good for the game (and his legion of female fans) if Rafa can fully recover from his injury woes and reach his best level again. The same is true for all the pros, but it’s most salient in Rafa’s case because he’s a proven champion and has that lefty topspin forehand which gives Federer all sorts of trouble. It does relatively little against the likes of Del Potro, Cilic, and Soderling, but that’s a different blog for a different day. If Rafa’s realistic about preventing inexorable physical decline from becoming the narrative of the rest of his career, he should take the time to heal fully and trim his tournament schedule, particularly on hard courts. If he’s not careful, too many ‘warrior’ moments will be the end of him. I remember watching Rafa vs Ferrer a few years ago at the USO and wincing as I watched the guy totally wrecking his knees with jarring skids, sudden stops and excessive reliance on dogged defense on those unforgiving hard courts.

Djokovic seems to be taking an extended mental sabbatical and hasn’t shown any signs of the competitive drive he had when he won his lone major a couple of years ago. Tsonga did well to reach the semi-final, but he couldn’t rally with Federer from the back-court, consistently getting pushed out of position and forced to go for low percentage shots.

Overall the tournament was sufficiently entertaining, but not as memorable as last year’s US Open where Del Potro shook things up and overpowered Fed incrementally over 5 sets. The final was a tad disappointing since Murray never got out of fourth gear. I expect the French Open in a few months to be more of a tussle and if he’s fully fit, I pick Del Potro to win.

One-a-Day | Deerfeather

Cope

Sarah Palin’s been busy. After much deliberation she decided that the best way to serve the people of Alaska was to quit her job as governor, ‘write’ a book about herself and begin a stint on Fox news as a sort of right wing oracle/purveyor of wisdom. It’s increasingly unlikely that she’ll win the republican nomination, new Massachusetts senator Scott Brown seems to be the flavor of the month.

One-a-Day | Anecdotes

One-a-Day | A Day at the Beach

A Day at the Beach | One-a-Day Series | Jan 20, 2010

One-a-Day | Pill Head

One of my New Year’s Resolutions (don’t laugh) was to do a series of daily sketches. There’s no global theme, I’m approaching it as a very loose graphic journal.

Pill Head | One-a- Day Series | Jan192009 | © 2010 Kombo Chapfika

Power Corrupts

Power corrupts and powerpoint corrupts absolutely. I’ve literally heard the air go out of a previously enthused audience the moment a projector hummed to life and a template-driven powerpoint presentation began. It’s a confidence killer for the presenter to look around and know that the unspoken collective chorus is “oh jeez, not one of these again, what errands do I have to run on my way home…” When the guy in the back row starts playing Tetris on his iphone it’s time to accept that nobody really wants to sit through a powerpoint presentation, however neat the graphs may be. I can understand why people use powerpoint, it’s a visual aid, and blah blah. It’s basically very easy to use, but therein lies the problem. It’s so easy to use, that most office-working adults have seen so many PPPs that they’re basically tapped out by 30 and they instinctively tune out the moment they recognize the tell tale signs.

In Lieu of powerpoint may I recommend using custom props. A person in a furry suit never fails to elicit attention and genuine interest. A stick with a bright furry ball on a string may get better results. Have a cute young child recite your prepared statements for you. Critics will remain silent for fear of censure by the ‘good’ people, who will fawn over the wee lad or gal while completely forgetting the original purpose of your presentation. If hand gestures aren’t your thing, you could bring in a sign language expert to confuse your hearing colleagues. You could always use a white board and several colorful markers, they were cool in kindergarten and nostalgia is a very powerful thing.

Most Annoying Things of 2009

• Phantom Cell Phone Vibrations.
• The woes of Liverpool FC. Please come back Alonso, we need you.
• Getting scammed on an epic scale by bankers. When’s the riot, folks?
• Getting soul-spammed by Lady Gaga fandom.
• The two SDHC cards that never worked. Frustration, thy name is SDHC.
• The demise of my primary external harddrive, so long itunes library, hello Pandora.
• Forms. I hate them, but they seem to love me.
• Dropped calls on Skype. Technology is a cruel mistress.
• The bathroom sink faucet which shoots out water at excessively high pressure. Chill out faucet!
• Grizzly Bear. Gimme a break, they sound like a sentient wet rag.
• Billboards. Please make them go away, I miss the sky!