The artist

I was on hand at the American Indian Community House Friday night for their current exhibition featuring Onondaga/Tuscarora painter Jay Carrier. Though there was no Gary Farmer, there was a surprisingly nice turn out that was intimate and engaged, not only with each other, but with the artist and his work. This was a nice surprise indeed as most gallery openings are boring snooze-fests or socially demoralizing. Just a brief note about the AICH gallery-it really is a gem of a space for indigenous artists to show their work in New York City. Unfortunately it is tucked away in a nondescript building across the street from the hallowed halls of the National Museum of the American Indian. I think it gets over-looked by tourists dazzled by Battery Park, water transport, and the NMAI’s gi-norm-o banners shrieking “FREE ADMISSION!” to the passers-by. Just so you know, it’s free to visit the AICH as well. You may have to search for it but it is well worth the effort (www.aich.org).

Guests enjoy the awesome bean dip and hand-made tortilla chips.

Jay Carrier’s paintings could be dismissed as derivative of 80’s artist Jean Michel Basquiat-a bad abstraction of his style and completely lacking in form. But that would be an easy cop out. True, it is derivative but Carrier purposefully appropriates the symbols canonized in Basquiat’s work to laid-back effect. One could say the same about Basquiat himself, but his mellow ruminations were, for the most part, drug induced. Never trust the heroin addicted artist: their work is a delusion.

Although I was immediately taken with Carrier’s style I was hesitant to say I liked it on it’s own merits since it reminded me of many artists besides the one, obviously, referenced above. However, speaking to the artist himself offered insights to his process-both thought and action-which allowed for a more nuanced reading and by nuanced I mean the guy is completely without guile and utterly lacking in pretention. This made his work much more palatable.

Discussing Risen From The Ashes Of Two Fires

After an hour or so the artist was called upon to speak. As with most artists called to do so, especially in front of an audience, he told us he wanted the work to speak for itself while simultaneously claiming many of the pieces in the exhibition contained socio-political import. Of course, he didn’t expound upon the socio-political importantance imbued in his work preferring to “not beat anyone over the head” with his agenda. I actually believed him-on both counts. Another pleasant surprise was the depth of questions proffered by the visitors. This seemed to please and frighten the artist as he seemed unprepared for the thoughtful questions. Hesitant at first, Carrier opened up a bit more about his process offering candid insights, such as when he revealed he often used words in his paintings so that he wouldn’t have to be bothered actually painting the thing he referenced with text. This comment elicited quite a few laughs. Like I said, the man is without guile.
All in all, I’d say his work is a combination of half-formed skill and intentional mis-direction; a what you see is what you get approach mixed with shucky-darns affability. This is evident in the xeroxed images slap-dashed onto over-textured surfaces; technicolor clashing hues and a poetic sensibility revealed through fractured text used to convey tender memory; and, unintentionally humorous references to caged wolves. These stylistic clashes made for a confusing but enjoyable viewing experience. The show truly was visually spectacular. It’s a shame the show might not enjoy the visitation it deserves.

Some images from the exhibition:

Guest getting a closer look.

I’m Not Indian-mixed media

I’m Not Indian-detail

Center: Gallery director-Soni Moreno

Out Gettin Chicken-mixed media
The show will be up until November 21.
Look for an in-depth feature on Jay Carrier in the Fall edition of NAICA online.

All photos copyright: Maria Colon

In an age where people fret over the implications of buying a DVD player at Walmart for twenty bucks, it is refreshing to find a film that addresses the effects of globalization on a more dignified level than just the consumer’s faux-shame of purchasing mass-produced electronics at reasonable prices.

Khadak, which had its U.S. premier at Sundance, is the first fiction work by seasoned documentarians, Peter Brosens and Jessica Woodworth. The storyline of the film goes quietly along the lines of similar globalization-warning-genre films: Boy/Girl lives in peaceful, rural community untouched by the modern world. Modern world soon arrives, wearing a ten-gallon hat, brandishing guns, raping and pillaging. We all nod our heads in sorrowful contemplation, and for a moment, regret buying that DVD player which was probably made by said Boy/Girl for twelve cents an hour.

All in all, the story is somewhat predictable … if the viewer chooses to stop there. What is so surprising about Khadak is how the filmmakers took such a simple plot line (not a bad “simple”, just concise) and expanded it in such a striking, gorgeous, breathtaking way. Simply put, the film is a visual masterpiece. It is full of perfectly crafted, impeccably framed shots. If I had to describe Khadak in one word it would be “symmetrical.” It is like watching a hot-air balloon expand.

When I started this review, I intended to delve into the story a bit more. I was going to describe the characters in detail. I was going to compare Khadak to other art-house films that it reminded me of. Etcetera, etcetera, etcetera. But I’ve decided not too. Those things do not strike me as the most important qualities about Khadak.

The unique thing about Khadak is that it does rely not on typical mechanisms to tell its story. It is an abstract explosion of images, all of which are so well crafted and thought out that the usual things of which one would rely on to review a film are moot. The story is the visual, not the verbal, and maybe that is why the film makes such a strong impact.

The thing is, the issue of globalization is an inherently important one. It is a valid concern and as human beings we should make a concerted effort to learn more about how our social, political and economic bearings affect other communities.

In short, we should care more.

But in this age of constant media output (lots of it from twenty dollar DVD players) the general public has pretty much seen every didactic, proselytizing film about how global societies are being raped and pillaged by the hegemonic, ten-gallon-hat-wearing majority. We’ve seen these stories, important as they are, told in the same formulaic, snoozy ways. Frankly, we’d rather go watch Borat, thank you.

But Khadak is different. It doesn’t preach or proselytize, and most importantly, it doesn’t judge. It simply tells a story and lets the viewer decide what is right and what is wrong. Khadak’s 22-page script does not inherently dictate how we feel about the film’s story, its images do. And when it comes right down to it, that is what good filmmaking is all about.

[image courtesy of www.khadak.com]

NAICA’s favorite filmmaker Blackhorse Lowe treats you to a short and sweet review of one of his Sundance Film Festival favorites, Khadak by directors Brosens and Woodworth (www.khadak.com).

KHADAK is one of those few great films that transcends standard cinema. It is a mutant all its own, a beautiful beast let loose in the world. I sat in the theater with my jaw dropped taking this wonderful ride I never wanted to end. In its simplicity it communicated ideas regarding relations between people, animal, earth, sky and the spiritual world. It did so by not succumbing to the formulaic tropes of film, it took a leap to be unique asking the audience to join the ride. Nothing was going to be explained but if you were willing to stay for the ride you were going to go places never experienced in mainstream film; ambiguity is its strength.
I’m sure others will say I’m wrong, but I saw a new path, a new way of mutating cinema. In order for it to be fresh we have to be willing to enter these new realms of understanding narrative through the creation of new cinematic tropes. Forget your three act structure, star driven pieces of shit, forget anything traditional and prepare for a new form. Like Journals Of Knud Rasmussen, Khadak is riveting and daring. A work of art that cannot be replicated but inspires one to be original in all one creates.

I don’t believe I’ve ever watched five films practically in a row in one single day. But after missing out on screenings the first two days here at Sundance I was determined to see as many as I possibly could. Gratefully NAICA co-editor Renee Gick was in for the longhaul.

Monday’s round:

We started off with Life Support an HBO production directed by Nelson George starring the inpressive Queen Latifah. It would be easy to dismiss the film as a typical HBO melo-drama. But the cast and the story make this film work. Written by the director, the story is inspired by his HIV-positive sister who works in the Brooklyn HIV outreach program. Her attempts to reconnect with her eldest daughter whom she signed over to her mother’s care when she was still trying to get off the drugs is the central plotline to the film. Like most films with characters looking to make good on past mistakes the film is about redemption, but it is also about acknowledging past mistakes without imposing restrictions on those who would forgive us in the present even if their brand of forgiveness feels more like punishment. It’s about listening to what the people in your life trully need. It’s an excellent film that is filled with wonderfully raw performances.

Our next film was Mike White’s Year of the Dog starring Molly Shannon, John C Reilly, and Peter Saarsgard. Molly Shannon plays Peggy, a faithful administrative assistant whose closest relationship is with her loving puppy Pencil. When he dies from eating poisonous garden mulch from her neigbor’s yard Peggy is left devastated and longing for something to fill the void. She finds it through a new-found passion for extreme animal rights activism introduced to her through the ambiguous Newt, a pet adoption advocate that she falls for after Pencil’s death. It’s a cute movie with lots of laughs and a few sad (pathetic) moments. Honestly, the film felt like other Mike White stories, though this is his directorial debut, the Good Girl and Chuck and Buck most notably, replete with odd but essentially good people populating his stunted suburban palette. I can easily see Jennifer Aniston in the role of Peggy, but Shannon does bring an edge as a woman broken down left psychologically raw. I liked it and would see it again but only on DVD.

Directly after that we saw Sterlin Harjo’s Four Sheets to the Wind. A casual film with quiet performances punctuated by death and personal dramas that lead to deeper commitments to the ones we love fiercely even if we don’t understand them completely. Of course, I liked it alot and would pay to see it again but would much rather watch it at home on DVD. Mostly cause I hate watching films with packed crowds who talk throughout the entire film as did the three French press chicks who sat behind me. For a moment I thought I was back in Queens.

Then we saw a film by Christopher Zalla called Padre Nuestro a tale of stolen identity, lost love, hard hearts, blah blah blah. I found it tedious. I hated all the characters. Every last one of them. I can’t tolerate stupidity as seen in the protagonist, if you can call him that, Pedro. He’s an innocent 17 year old from Southern Mexico on his way to Nueva York to meet his never-before-seen “rich” father. Pedro literally puts his few small possessions…like his identity, in the hands of Juan, a hustler from the streets of Mexico City who just happens to stumble into the same truck heading north to El Norte. Like I said I have a hard time with stupidity, especially when it is masked as naivete. Pedro is so stupid he deserves to have his identity stolen and stabbed to death on the streets of Brooklyn in the end. Welcome to Brooklyn, dumbass!

Whew-wee after that bad-mood inducer we saw Tuli by director Kanakan Balintagos. Shot on mini-DV in Balintagos’ tribal village in the Phillipines, the story is about a young girl who grows to love the best friend she has grown up with choosing to live with her than take the hand of the local heart-throb. Good for her. For some reason (Christianity) this film recieved an X rating in it’s native country for a tame lesbian love kiss. It’s actually really tame. To be honest the use of DV detracted from what I assume was sumptious light and verdent mangroves rich in color. Had it been shot on 35mm, which I know was not possible for this production, it would have packed a lot more emotional punch. Video simply did not do the landscape and warm light any justice. As a photographer, I could see that the images were beautifully constructed and an attempt was made to use natural light to convey the variety of emotions the characters went through, but again the video did not help the situation. However, the story was compelling even entertaining though as a Westerner I guess I didn’t think it was as risque as some would in other cultures. Definitely worth seeing again though.

Five films in one day-most of them good. I think an excellent start afterall.