Barrack Obama’s ‘The Audacity of Hope’ really is a manifestation of the book’s title. Simple, yet definitely audacious, Obama’s ‘Thoughts on reclaiming the American dream’ are grounded in realism and common sense, yet – since such qualities of thinking seem to be lost on many policy makers – offer many straightforward solutions to the myriad of problems facing the USA. Obama is not so naive as to think that America’s issues can be solved swiftly and harmoniously, and he acknowledges that his suggested solutions will not make everyone happy, but is unapologetic in the fact that they will make things fairer and close the ever-widening gap between rich and poor. Systematically deconstructing the many aspects of the American way of life – Family, Employment, Money, Politics, Race – with a pragmatic eye, Obama is simultaneously hopeful about the capacity for his fellow citizens to slightly alter their habits and mindsets in order to improve American living standards for everyone, and to improve the flailing global image of the world’s superpower. It is a monumental undertaking, but with Obama at the helm, one is confident that he will be able to achieve such audacious goals.
However, more than just a book about discussing the current faults and issues of the conflicting nation, and preaching about what should be done; Obama’s book is, at the core, a great piece of writing. As I read it, I kept asking myself “How can someone maintain this quality of writing for an entire book, that isn’t even fiction?” Obama’s prose is eloquent, sophisticated, yet not esoteric. He puts forth his points and thoughts in a simple and refined style which allows even the most basic of novices to understand and relate to his words. To be able to tell engaging, colourful stories when one is discussing politics and the woes of the world is a major feat, and Obama has achieved this with ease, humility and unpretentious charm. Obama’s words have the ability to sweep you off your feet and take you to the furthest reaches of humanity’s potential for kindness and compassion, despite the existing evidence to the contrary. This is what great writing reads like. Even if one is not particularly politically-minded, which I am not, or does not particularly care for America and whatever issues it is facing, Obama’s book is still a great read – if only for its position as an exemplar of remarkable writing.
31 January 2010
29 January 2010
Kanye West - Heartbreak and 808s
One of my favourite albums of all time is Kanye West’s ‘Heartbreak and 808s’. If ever contemporary art could be translated into music, this is what it would sound like. Every time I hear this album, I think of it as an amazing, passionate, emotional, intense art work – the type that makes you stop in your tracks, takes your breath away and sends shivers down your spine.
Let’s forget for a moment the public persona of Kanye West as arrogant, narcissistic douche bag who stole the thunder from sweet little Taylor Swift’s moment at the MTV Awards – the whole world is pretty much in agreement that that was a pretty jerk-off thing to do. The man may have some social behaviour issues, but he is a real artist – a rare gem in the myriad of pseudo-pop artists, so-called ‘gangsta rappers’ and plain old spoilt rich kids trying to prove their ‘talent’ with a load of daddy’s money, some studio time, and a whole lot of auto-tune.
West’s music is the real deal, and ‘808s’ is the culmination of almost a decade’s worth of lyrical compositions and musical experimentations in Hip Hop and R’n’B. There is no appropriate label for the sounds which derive from West’s latest album, arguably his biggest triumph to date. Not only is the music groundbreaking, created mainly with a Roland 808 Rhythm Composer – one part of the album’s title – but the other part of the title, the ‘heartbreak’ is practically transmitted through the speakers to the listener. This is where the real artistry of West’s album is manifested – in the marriage between new, innovative sounds and intense, jarring lyrics. As a response to personal traumas and tragedies in his life, West throws the tumultuous emotions of such turmoils – arguably his soul – into this body of work which screams of anger, resentment, acceptance, and the almost impossible, but always necessary need to move on.
My absolute favourite song on the album is ‘Tell Everybody That You Know’. This is the ultimate break-up track; no sappy “I miss you” or “I will always love you”, not even a courtesy “I’ll be thinking of you”. With lines such as “You do you and I’m just gonna be fine/Okay I got you out my mind”, and “I might see you in my nightmare”, and finally “It’s all because of you/Girl we through/You think your shit don’t stick but you are Missus Pee-eww”, this song is absolutely raw in its anger, and utter detestation from the scorned lover himself. Every time I hear this song, I can literally feel West’s contempt, loathing and downright hatred for the subject of the song – his delivery of the lyrics even sound ugly at the climactic moment.
This is the angriest of break-up albums, and yet it is the only time I have considered a contemporary piece of music as a real-bonafide, belongs-in-a-gallery piece of art. Forget about the public persona and tabloids, and just listen to the record, no bias.
Let’s forget for a moment the public persona of Kanye West as arrogant, narcissistic douche bag who stole the thunder from sweet little Taylor Swift’s moment at the MTV Awards – the whole world is pretty much in agreement that that was a pretty jerk-off thing to do. The man may have some social behaviour issues, but he is a real artist – a rare gem in the myriad of pseudo-pop artists, so-called ‘gangsta rappers’ and plain old spoilt rich kids trying to prove their ‘talent’ with a load of daddy’s money, some studio time, and a whole lot of auto-tune.
West’s music is the real deal, and ‘808s’ is the culmination of almost a decade’s worth of lyrical compositions and musical experimentations in Hip Hop and R’n’B. There is no appropriate label for the sounds which derive from West’s latest album, arguably his biggest triumph to date. Not only is the music groundbreaking, created mainly with a Roland 808 Rhythm Composer – one part of the album’s title – but the other part of the title, the ‘heartbreak’ is practically transmitted through the speakers to the listener. This is where the real artistry of West’s album is manifested – in the marriage between new, innovative sounds and intense, jarring lyrics. As a response to personal traumas and tragedies in his life, West throws the tumultuous emotions of such turmoils – arguably his soul – into this body of work which screams of anger, resentment, acceptance, and the almost impossible, but always necessary need to move on.
My absolute favourite song on the album is ‘Tell Everybody That You Know’. This is the ultimate break-up track; no sappy “I miss you” or “I will always love you”, not even a courtesy “I’ll be thinking of you”. With lines such as “You do you and I’m just gonna be fine/Okay I got you out my mind”, and “I might see you in my nightmare”, and finally “It’s all because of you/Girl we through/You think your shit don’t stick but you are Missus Pee-eww”, this song is absolutely raw in its anger, and utter detestation from the scorned lover himself. Every time I hear this song, I can literally feel West’s contempt, loathing and downright hatred for the subject of the song – his delivery of the lyrics even sound ugly at the climactic moment.
This is the angriest of break-up albums, and yet it is the only time I have considered a contemporary piece of music as a real-bonafide, belongs-in-a-gallery piece of art. Forget about the public persona and tabloids, and just listen to the record, no bias.
Wicked the Musical
‘Wicked the Musical’ was absolutely fantastic! I must admit, I was a little sceptical about how good it was really going to be, because it seemed to be a little too hyped up for me, and I tend to be wary about getting into something just because others have (I tend to be more judgemental when there’s something that everyone likes), so I went into the theatre with my over-judgement persona on, but that quickly washed away. I am jumping on that bandwagon, and let me tell you, there’s a reason why that wagon is so big and full! This musical was so much better than I expected.
Not only was the story itself great, with telling parallels between the Land of Oz and the world, but its lessons and themes were delivered in a way that was not condescending or accusatory of the darker aspects of humanity. Rather, the commentaries on friendship, familial obligations, political tyranny and loyalty were cleverly delivered with wit, comedic personalities and some very contemporary jazz-hands. The creators deserve huge kudos in their ability to explore the processes of good and evil, and to present this duality in the main characters organically. And of course these characters were played by fine actors whose performances blew the audience away. Jemma Rix’s portrayal of Elphaba, the misunderstood wicked witch of the West, was touching and allowed the audience to really empathise with the character and her position as a victim of circumstance. Meanwhile, as Glinda the Good, Lucy Durack played superficial and self-serving in a way that made it charming, endearing and actually quite becoming. And the relationship which grows from these two completely different, but equally ambitious young women speaks volumes of the real human capacity for the love that exists within a strong friendship to overcome everything from superficial differences to deeper disparities in values and ambitions. One really believes that these two people – one good, the other wicked – really are the best of friends.
Finally, the overall production was phenomenal. The sets and costumes really take the audience into that magical Land of Oz. And of course, the music. The Wicked soundtrack is amazing, and is a real work of art in its own right. I’ve been listening to nothing but this record all week. The songs only enhance the depth and complexity of the story, telling their own little story, in and of themselves.
Not only was the story itself great, with telling parallels between the Land of Oz and the world, but its lessons and themes were delivered in a way that was not condescending or accusatory of the darker aspects of humanity. Rather, the commentaries on friendship, familial obligations, political tyranny and loyalty were cleverly delivered with wit, comedic personalities and some very contemporary jazz-hands. The creators deserve huge kudos in their ability to explore the processes of good and evil, and to present this duality in the main characters organically. And of course these characters were played by fine actors whose performances blew the audience away. Jemma Rix’s portrayal of Elphaba, the misunderstood wicked witch of the West, was touching and allowed the audience to really empathise with the character and her position as a victim of circumstance. Meanwhile, as Glinda the Good, Lucy Durack played superficial and self-serving in a way that made it charming, endearing and actually quite becoming. And the relationship which grows from these two completely different, but equally ambitious young women speaks volumes of the real human capacity for the love that exists within a strong friendship to overcome everything from superficial differences to deeper disparities in values and ambitions. One really believes that these two people – one good, the other wicked – really are the best of friends.
Finally, the overall production was phenomenal. The sets and costumes really take the audience into that magical Land of Oz. And of course, the music. The Wicked soundtrack is amazing, and is a real work of art in its own right. I’ve been listening to nothing but this record all week. The songs only enhance the depth and complexity of the story, telling their own little story, in and of themselves.
28 January 2010
Kaldor Public Art Projects
Ed Ruscha, 'Every building on the Sunset Strip', 1965
I finally went to see the AGNSW exhibition of John Kaldor’s public and private art projects. Kaldor is one of Australia’s leading art patrons – for international and Australian artists – and he has been working since the late sixties. His first project was to bring artists Christo and Jean-Claude to Australia in 1969 to wrap the coast of Little Bay. It was quite a feat, and the photos of that project still stun and delight me every time I see them. Since then, Kaldor has worked tirelessly to bring international art to the far-off land of Australia. I myself have had the opportunity to see some of the more recent works, and to even volunteer at the sites for Urs Fischer’s works on Cockatoo Island, and Gregor Schneider’s 'Bondi Beach/21 Beach Cells' [I've posted a review of this work].
Recently Kaldor generously donated his private art collection, rumoured to be worth about $20 million, to the Art Gallery of New South Wales, and now the public has access to works that we otherwise may not have had the opportunity to see. The exhibition at AGNSW is a display of some of Kaldor’s private collection, and also of archives and art works from the forty years of Kaldor Public Art Projects, and it is fantastic. To walk through those rooms of art works and archives was like walking through a brief history of Modernism, Post-Modernism, and whatever ‘ism’ we’re currently living in now.
The most exciting moment for me was seeing Ed Ruscha’s 'Every Building on the Sunset Strip'; a concertina book of photos of every building on the sunset strip in downtown LA that was made in the 1960s, and is one of the quintessential works of Conceptualism. I had studied this artwork before, and found its banality, simplicity and mundane-ness interesting and intriguing; it really reflected the direction of art at that time. Needless to say, I never thought I would ever see this work. And when I saw it, encased in its protective glass, spanning the whole wall of a room, I was as breathless as if I had seen a grand renaissance painting. To see such an important work, in all its ordinary glory, and to know the history and significance of such a piece made me feel like, for that moment, I was almost touching history.
That feeling persisted as I made my way through the exhibition. Not only were the works magnificent and poignant in their own right, but the archives that were included really made one appreciate the lengths that were taken to make these works happen. Furthermore, seeing the correspondence between Kaldor and the artists was also like a trip through technological history; the typewritten pages from the sixties, the faxes of the nineties, and the now ubiquitous emails of which we’re all familiar tell the story of how swiftly the modern world has changed. Finally, the actual addresses of the letters – all those places Kaldor has inhabited over the years – instilled in me that sense of familiarity and immediacy, despite the distances in time from where I am now, to when the artworks were. It’s hard to describe, but just seeing familiar locations such as Riley St, Pitt St, George St, and Surry Hills allows one to feel closer to the projects of bringing those international works and artists to our backyards. It gave that added intimacy and appreciation that can only come when you are really privy to the background of an entire body of work, not just the final product.
Public Enemies
Public Enemies; what a disappointment. I was wondering why the hype of this movie suddenly disappeared while it was still showing in cinemas, now I know why. As a Johnny Depp biopic, I had high hopes for this movie, as other Depp biopics I have seen are fantastic – Blow and Donnie Brasco. In Depp’s defence, his performance as the Depression-era bank-robber-with-a-heart John Dillinger was exceptional, as most Depp performances are, but an actor can only be as good as the screenwriter, director and producers who work on their storyline before shooting, and with their image after they have left the set, and in this case, that’s where things went wrong: somewhere in pre-production, and again in post-production.
Film makers of the new century have succeeded in telling ‘both sides of the story’ in that they have given both the good guys and bad guys that dualistic element which makes us all human, and from which audiences can connect with the characters. Whether it be a hero with a dark past, or a self-destructive addiction; or a villain who is perhaps misunderstood, or started out with good intentions and through circumstance has found themselves on the ‘bad-guy’ path. Either way, characters are no longer as two-dimensional as your clichéd ‘good guy’/’bad guy’ and that’s one of the best things about watching such movies, to try and justify and understand the motives and behaviours of these characters.
In Public Enemies, director Michael Mann has taken it one-too-many steps in a direction that’s not completely in the past, but definitely not one that should be trodden in the future. In the film, Mann’s Dillinger is clearly the bank robber we love to love. He is presented as the ultimate vigilante with no room for even questioning whether or not his actions are wrong, which according to the law and social standards, are clearly wrong. Here, Dillinger is completely celebrated to the point of martyrdom – he’s a two-dimensional good ‘bad guy’, which is just as uninteresting as a two-dimensional purely ‘good guy’. Meanwhile Christian Bale, an actor of whom I’m a fan, plays Melvin Purvis the J. Edgar Hoover-selected agent appointed to capture the movie’s ‘villain’. Bale’s Purvis comes off as no more than an annoying pest, with no real personal motive for capturing Dillinger. The banality of this character is tiresome, and one cannot find themselves sympathetic to his cause, despite his being the ‘good guy’.
All-in-all the movie seems to be a case of mistaken character identity on the part of the screenwriters and director. It could have been good had it delved deeper into the psyches of both men – not a completely new phenomenon in cinema-storytelling, but a direction which seemed to never even occur to the moviemakers. And while I will definitely watch another Johnny Depp and Christian Bale movie, I will never again watch another Michael Mann movie.
Film makers of the new century have succeeded in telling ‘both sides of the story’ in that they have given both the good guys and bad guys that dualistic element which makes us all human, and from which audiences can connect with the characters. Whether it be a hero with a dark past, or a self-destructive addiction; or a villain who is perhaps misunderstood, or started out with good intentions and through circumstance has found themselves on the ‘bad-guy’ path. Either way, characters are no longer as two-dimensional as your clichéd ‘good guy’/’bad guy’ and that’s one of the best things about watching such movies, to try and justify and understand the motives and behaviours of these characters.
In Public Enemies, director Michael Mann has taken it one-too-many steps in a direction that’s not completely in the past, but definitely not one that should be trodden in the future. In the film, Mann’s Dillinger is clearly the bank robber we love to love. He is presented as the ultimate vigilante with no room for even questioning whether or not his actions are wrong, which according to the law and social standards, are clearly wrong. Here, Dillinger is completely celebrated to the point of martyrdom – he’s a two-dimensional good ‘bad guy’, which is just as uninteresting as a two-dimensional purely ‘good guy’. Meanwhile Christian Bale, an actor of whom I’m a fan, plays Melvin Purvis the J. Edgar Hoover-selected agent appointed to capture the movie’s ‘villain’. Bale’s Purvis comes off as no more than an annoying pest, with no real personal motive for capturing Dillinger. The banality of this character is tiresome, and one cannot find themselves sympathetic to his cause, despite his being the ‘good guy’.
All-in-all the movie seems to be a case of mistaken character identity on the part of the screenwriters and director. It could have been good had it delved deeper into the psyches of both men – not a completely new phenomenon in cinema-storytelling, but a direction which seemed to never even occur to the moviemakers. And while I will definitely watch another Johnny Depp and Christian Bale movie, I will never again watch another Michael Mann movie.
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