Showing posts with label Artist. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Artist. Show all posts

Monday, October 15, 2007

Avant-Garde artist you should check out



The avant-garde hasn't had a performer like Margaret Leng Tan in years. She's one of those rare pianists whose performance style takes equal billing with the music.

-Village Voice, New York

The first woman to graduate with a Doctor of Music from Juilliard, Margaret Leng Tan has since evolved a radically individual performance style fusing sound, choreography and drama. Hailed as "the world's premiere string piano virtuoso" and "the diva of avant-garde pianism" (New York Times), she is known for her performances of Asian and American music that defy the conventional boundaries of the instrument. She is closely identified with the work of John Cage. The New Republic called her "the leading exponent of Cage's music today." She has performed his music throughout the world and has recorded it for audio as well as film releases. Her Whitney Museum appearance at the Jasper Johns Exhibition was hailed as one of the most memorable performances of 1991 by the New York Times. She performed for the opening of the 45th Venice Biennale in 1993, selecting a music tribute to John Cage. Her several recordings have received critical acclaim. She has appeared at major festivals around the world including Ravinia, Spoleto USA, New Music America, Bang on a Can, MANCA (France), Inventionen (Berlin) and Lincoln Center Out-of Doors Serious Fun. Born in Singapore, Ms. Tan made her debut with the New York Philharmonic in 1991.

Margaret Leng Tan's website is located at http://www.margaretlengtan.com/.






Tuesday, August 14, 2007

By The Balls


Larry Clark was standing in front me the other day.
Filmmaker, Photographer and artist.
One of only a few American filmmakers that I admire.
A by the balls director.
Something most American films lack.
Balls.
Someone who isn’t afraid to go outside the fuckin mainstream and do films that are original.
A filmmaker that would eat the Michael Bays and the Brent Ratners for dinner.
He’s Algren with Dash of Burroughs peppered with Ballard, Selby Jr and Carver.
Nowadays trying to shuffle through all the remakes and bad emo style cry fest films that make it to Sundance one has to wonder, what the fuck happened?
If I have to sit through another cable showing of “Me and You and Everyone we Fuckin Know” again I think I’ll vomit something pretentious.
Can vomit be pretentious?
That annoying Miranda July film.
And many more of those type of films must we sit through.
Once something does big at Sundance every first time poser thinks that they have uncovered some kind of formula, instant cool artist formula.
I guess that can be likened to people who would rather use some kind of fat burning cream than go to a fuckin gym and sweat like a goddamn piggy.

So were was I.
Oh yea.
So there I was standing across from Larry Clark.
Since I’m a filmmaker as well some may say why didn’t you go up to him and say “Hi”
Well I did think about going up to him.
But I stopped myself.
I kept thinking of all the other cunts before me going up to talk to him.
“Hi, ah…I like your films…ah..yea..humm...you did that film KIDS right?”
So I walked away.

I thought of things that I could have said.
“Hi Larry, I just cut Dave Markey’s new documentary and I really admire your work. If your every looking for an editor I’d love to work with you.”
Not so bad.

You never know. There could be this whole other reality living out there where I said something.
Like the rise in the proletarian 1950’s mentality that is sweeping this country so is the censoring of our artist.
We are regressing as a culture.
We are so quick to judge.
We are living in the best and the worst of times.
I feel like there should be more artists out there creating.
It’s strange, it feels like renaissance with no artist.
During the 70’s film and fine art was booming in terms of work.
It was truly a time to create and to be part of a movement.
It’s seems like this TV generation of MIGHT MORPHING POWER RANGERS and MTV have some how lost there way.
And instead embrace the regurgitated painted colors of a lost fantasy still waiting to be realized.