Paintings by D.H. Lawrence, said to be more shocking that Lady Chatterley’s Lover, are exhibited in England for the first time. The central piece is said to be of a naked man peeing on dandelions. I’ll leave this one to Old Hag or TMFTML.
Neil LaBute talks about dealing with reviews in his Thursday diary entry for Slate.
It’s always interesting to me how different artists respond to their critical reception. Some won’t read anything, while others voraciously read it all. Still others have more elaborate lines of defense
Here’s a Reuters report on The Olive Harvest, a movie made by a Palestinian director, produced by an Iranian Jew, with Palestinian actors, and an Israeli crew. (Imagine the insurance premiums on this one.)
I asked my friend Serg to write an article about about his music, and here’s what he came up with. Enjoy.
Well, sometimes things go “chirp chirp” and other times I sit in my own chocolate cake. Then I stop and think about a nice piece of fish and BLAMMO! I find myself waking up on a floor someplace wondering where the hell my wallet is! Then I get the compulsion to leer at some saucy thing wearing vinyl and all of a sudden my brain begins to superheat like a wet pair of underwear being microwaved on maximum scorch. Sooner or later, I’ll make plinky noises on something while my lips get fat and slimy as I slobber on something metal. Then I get a craving for Corn Chex with vanilla soy milk. Just as I’m about to leave, Mr. Rockstar has to come by and corner me in my lair. No escape! So I sit and listen and continue to chirp in my head as I fantasize about gravity defying haircuts. At some point or another I’ll listen to something intangibly good and lament in how sounds sort of just evaporate into ether, leaving only partially clad fashion mongers in their wake. Somewhere in there lies a reason for a fairy tale, but it’s hard to see when your whole existence starts floating from one little bar to another. Is that where we’re really supposed to dwell? In the Sea of Lost Souls? I guess if given the choice I’d rather build something cool while loafing on thick shag carpet. I think Legos are much more entertaining anyway.
The Frank Gehry-designed Disney Concert Hall opened yesterday. It’s disheartening that Gehry’s work is associated with Disney, but what the hell, this is L.A. We have a Staples Center for crying out loud. The Los Angeles Philharmonic performed Bach, Mozart, and others. The website doesn’t show many photos of the hall, so you’ll have to go here and here. Side note: For those of you who moan about the cult of the young and beautiful in publishing, rest assured that it’s no different in other creative spheres. I remember well the kinds of articles that came out when Esa-Pekka Salonen became conductor for the L.A. Phil.
Old Hag offers her thoughts on Kill Bill. Me, I’m still trying to figure out the bleeped name, the three flashing red dots, and how “entropy” can be used to talk about muscle paralysis.