Wofflings

Monte Vista is pleased to announce Minimum Yields Maximum, a group exhibition curated by LA-based artist Gina Osterloh, featuring work by artists from the Philippines, Vietnam, and Los Angeles. Along with the exhibition, Monte Vista will host a book release event for Sarita See’s (Asian/Pacific Islander American Studies, University of Michigan) new book The Decolonized Eye: Filipino American Art and Performance. All of the author proceeds will go to the environmental justice organization FACES (Filipino American Coalition for Environmental Solidarity).

The artists in Minimum Yields Maximum work through a conceptual lens that considers everyday materials, and often engages greater social inquiries—a type of art practice that is both wide-ranging and inclusive. Many of the artists from the Philippines have studied and/or collaborated with artist and teacher Roberto Chabet. Perhaps this exhibition is a reminder that the Philippines has never hailed a singular geographical identity. It is also an appeal to shift art history, to consider a conceptual and political art model that includes the Pacific Rim. Most importantly, as an artist, curator Osterloh has felt a strong resonance between the selected works from Manila and those from the United States. The works in this exhibition refuse to be easily identified or placed geographically. Instead, they build upon structures of loss, humor, rupture, trauma, and obliteration.

From Hawaii to Hong Kong to North Carolina to Florida to Italy, I love that I can find authentic regional seaside shell handicrafts (actually crafted in the P.I.), anywhere in the world. I’ve seen these exact same designs my entire life: I can picture them in every souvenir shop in Manila I’ve ever been in since I was small.

In the U.S., legally they have to leave a “Made in the Philippines” tag on the merch, but not in Italy, apparently…These, from a shop in the coastal town of Nervi.

Well, it’s already Day 5 of my Bogliasco Fellowship, ladies and germs: one week in Italy, five weeks still to go. I need to explain perhaps, yes?

Several months back, I found out that I was accepted as artist-in-residence at the Bogliasco Foundation’s Liguria Study Center for the Arts and Humanities.  Along with other creatives and scholars, I am working here for about a month.

After some weeks in snowy, wintry (but lovely) Prague, my California self is embracing a Mediterranean coastal climate once more: the weather’s not exactly warm yet, but it’s comfortingly familiar, and today, the sun is out, the orange and mimosa trees are glowing, and I’m revelling in this ridiculous, surreal, sublime place.

Swoon.

I left Prague Saturday morning, figuring to kick around Italy for a couple of days before arriving at the Centro Studi Ligure Monday morning, and so I decided to spend one night in Milano and one in Torino en route.

By sheer dumb luck, the Milano hotel I chose was some sort of alternate-universe fantasy from somewhere in my subconscious, conflating my mint-y nurse drawings, my general fixation with all things durian-green, and Motel Cucaracha.

Plus, much of the hotel staff was Filipino, so I happily delivered  some Magandang Umagas in the morning alongside my Buongiornos. (Naturally Milano, like much of urban Italy, is teeming with Filipino workers, which only made me feel even more at home.)

Having neither been to Milan nor really planned what to do there, I figured I’d just drift and improvise. I did the requisite tourist check-ins at the Duomo and the Galleria, moseyed past some large snails, then wandered over to the Teatro alla Scala Museum for a peek at that legendary, gorgeous theatre.

While there, I happened upon a postcard for—pitty-pat, heart attack of excitement—a Yayoi Kusama exhibition at PAC Milano. For all of the years that I’ve been such a huge fan of her work, I’ve seen next to none of it in person, and so to be in the presence of so much of it just absolutely broke my ribcage open.

The next morning I packed up, left my bag at the hotel reception, then took the metro over to the Triennale Design Museum. Operating words for the design exhibition: thoughtfulness. Imagination. Inquisitiveness. Intelligence. Refinement. Thoroughness. And of all things, the new temporary exhibition also at Triennale was a massive Roy Lichtenstein show, which truly blew me away. Again, for all the years in which I’ve seen his work in reproduction, and often felt uninterested in his ubiquitous place in US art history, I have to say, it was truly remarkable to experience it in person. Between the Kusama, Lichtenstein, and design shows I saw, I’ve been reflecting on a renewed sense of how scale and first-person immersion make all the difference.

Sunday afternoon, I took the train over to Torino, to reconnect with my friend Giuseppe, whom I hadn’t seen in seven years. We were in mutual-clowns-in-residence in La Napoule in 2003, and hit it off so well there that after the residency I went and crashed with him in Italy for a few days, which was when I last saw him. It was so fantastic to reconnect and resume our clowning, right where we left off. Giuseppe also happened to be composer-in-residence in Bogliasco a few years ago, so I was able to pick his brain about what to expect before I arrived there, myself.

I arrived in Genova on Monday morning, bleary and vaguely hung-over from too little sleep and too much grappa in Torino, a little apprehensive about how to present myself at such an elegant residency (I’d read that jackets and ties/equivalent dress for women were expected for dinner each night, and hello: it’s a villa on the Ligurian Riviera…). From the minute I arrived, however, it was, and continues to be, the most extraordinarily warm, welcoming experience. The early-arrival Fellows had lunch together with the staff in the center’s main Villa, (aka the Villa Dei Pini, aka the VDP), and were then escorted to our respective domiciles. I had to pick my jaw up off the ground when shown to my bedroom in Villa Orbiana, up the hill:

And let’s not even get started on my studio in the little stone cottage, nestled in the olive trees, further up the hillside. Sigh.

And then there are the aforementioned-semi-formal dinners. (Given the pace at which I’m eating all of these divine Ligurian meals, I may need to procure some elegant, elasto-waist action slacks.)

I haven’t really explored Bogliasco or Genova yet: these past few days have been about settling into the Centro Studi Ligure, puttering in my new studio, and enjoying getting to know the staff, other Fellows, and their partners. And the P arrives this evening, and stays for a week, so I’m sure we’ll do some exploring this weekend.

Sing it, Shirley:

Someone get me a top hat and a red wig. Pronto.

Well, as long as we’re on the subject of creative exchange between the US and the Philippines, let’s take a second to embrace this event, which doesn’t involve any Michael Jackson DVD promotion. At least, I don’t think.

It’s happening this Saturday in Manila at Carlos Celdran’s beloved Living Room/Syquia Apts (ground zero for Galleon Trade 2007’s shenanigans), involving some folks I absolutely adore and miss to pieces:

Music of the Lost Cities: Scavenging the Cultural Apocalypse

(A Networked Sound and Visual Jam)

FEB 6 — 20:00, Living Room, Syquia Apartments

“Lost Cities” is a psycho-geographical, mixed-media narrative that explores pre and post apocalyptic urban landscapes and architectural backdrops through imaginary characters named “the sub-colonials” who move, dance, and tread through these past, futurist, and surreal environments. Collaborators in the project, that involves interactive computer-generated sound and video, are Chris Brown (Sound) and Johanna Poethig (Visuals) from Oakland, California; and Tad Ermitaño (Visuals), Caliph8 (Sound) and Malek Lopez (Sound) from Manila.
They will present their work-in-progress and discuss its artistic intentions and technical implementation with the audience.
THIS IS A FREE EVENT!

Presenting the Oakland-Manila Art Exchange:

Chris Brown, composer, pianist, and electronic musician, creates music for acoustic instruments with interactive electronics, for computer networks, and for improvising ensembles. Recent recordings of his music include “Boundary Layer”, a 3-CD box set of new and old computer network music by The Hub, on Tzadik, “Cutter Heads “, duets with Fred Frith on Intakt, “Talking Drum”, binaural recordings of interactive installations interleaved with environmental soundscapes on Sonore; and “Lava”, for brass percussion and electronics on Tzadik. He is also known for his recorded performances of music by Henry Cowell, Luc Ferrari, Jose Maceda, David Rosenboom, Larry Ochs, Wadada Leo Smith, and John Zorn. He has also performed and recorded extensively with The Hub, Anthony Braxton, Pauline Oliveros, Fred Frith, Rova Saxophon Quartet, Ikue Mori, Alvin Curran, William Winant, Glenn Spearman Double Trio, among others. In 2005 he created TeleSon, a composition for two ReacTable instruments performed in a joint concert between Ars Electronic in Linz, Austria and the International Computer Music Conference in Barcelona, Spain. He teaches electronic music and composition at Mills College in Oakland, where he is Co-Director of the Center for Contemporary Music (CCM).

Tad Ermitaño, media artist, writer and filmmaker. As far as the media art goes, he is interested in algorithmic/procedural editing and composition, new uses for the moving image and have been lately drifting into elementary robotics. His work “Quartet” was exhibited in the recently concluded International Symposium for Electronic Arts (ISEA) in Singapore.

Johanna Poethig, a visual, public and performance artist who has exhibited internationally and has been actively creating public art works, murals, paintings, sculpture and multimedia installations for over 20 years. She has worked in collaboration with other artists, architects, urban planners, design teams, arts commissions, specific communities and cultural groups. Poethig’s public art works intervene in the urban landscape, in neighborhoods, on freeways, in parks, hospitals, schools, homeless shelters, cultural centers, advertising venues and public buildings. She has received numerous commissions and awards for this work. Her paintings, sculpture and installations reflect her interest in satire, symbol, human nature, society and our consumerist culture. She has produced and participated in performance events that mix feminism, global politics, costume, props, cabaret, experimental music and video.

Malek Lopez, Berklee-trained virtuoso who is the principal composer for the band Drip, and half of the abrasive electronica duo Rubber Inc, who are responsible for establishing electronica in Manila. He is also a well-noted film composer.

Caliph8, beat smith, graffiti bomber and soothsayer. A lynch-pin of various groups and ensembles, he’s probably the most sought after sound manipulator in the Philippines. His output extends to more than just sniffing aerosol paint and flexing wrists with fat markers–he also creates visuals and projects them while manipulating audio and creates sound collage.

Feb. 6 — 8 PM

at the Living Room in Syquia Apts., MH del Pilar, Malate
Hosted by Living Room (Carlos Celdran) and SABAW Media Art Kitchen

FREE EVENT.

You know, when you extract song lyrics, they sometimes end up seeming almost…Shakespearean.
And speaking of tragedies, this travesty of choreography is just too much to bear.

Everyone’s a dance critic, I know, but I’m sorry: how many kinds of wrong can this be?

It’s well-known how obsessed I am with the Cebu Prisoners (aka the Dancing Inmates), and as far as I’m concerned, Byron Garcia is the Zhang Yimou of my imaginary Philippines Olympics Opening Ceremonies. But THIS wretchedness, wrought by an interloper, is just not making the cut with me.

Apparently, Michael Jackson was a fan of the dancing prisoners (as well he should have been). In the aftermath of his passing, and the posthumous release of the concert film “This Is It” in theaters and then DVD, Cebu prison program head Garcia was convinced to yield his reins to Michael Jackson’s primary choreographer Travis Payne, which in theory would be the logical conclusion and culmination of the Cebu Prisoners-Michael Jackson nexus. Perhaps symbolically it still is: incaracerated individuals with little to no personal agency dancing out pop imperialist promotional material….I really don’t know where this leaves notions of a prison-industrial complex. Maybe just prison complex.  Or complex prison choreography. Something.

There’s really just too much for me to write about the following, so here are my general first impressions:

1. Leni Riefenstahl’s “Triumph of the Will” in Halloween colors
2. ultra-creepy military formations
3. tight regimentation really ruins all the fun
4. moves that might have been jazzy on a 98 lb weakling alone center stage do not have quite the same effect when employed by a handful of beefy american showboaters surrounded by hundreds of prisoners marching lock-step
5. once again, filipinos become the backdrops for someone else’s fantasia
6. lighting and video quality is better: I will concede only this
7. the bizarro parading-about of a Martin Luther King placard in some sort of cross-promotion for civil liberties in prison could seem symbolically appropriate under certain circumstances, but here = wack and exploitative in the worst way
8. sorry: orange pants only look good with orange shirts in this situation
9. Unbelievably lame t-shirts promoting the the DVD release worse than prison uniforms
10. white MJ rorschach blob on shirts looks like A, dead silverfish, B, texas longhorns logo, C, horsehead skull, D, all of the above
11. disco moves could be put to far better use
12. no zombies, nuns or trannies = lame
13. “pubic triangle” formation of probably little relevance to either Jackson or the inmates
14. a peace symbol formed by prisoners all shaking their fists in the air just seems plain wrong.
15. What I really wanna know is: When’s the Wonder Girls DVD release going to happen?

“Some things in life they just don’t wanna see
But if Martin Luther was livin’
He wouldn’t let this beeeee….”

Soooo, I just received this pretty interesting call for submissions yesterday.

Biggie Biggie Biggie can’t you see
Sometimes your blogs just woffle-ize meeee…

Holy crap. It’s like this man just read my dream journal. In less than a month on the internets, he’s hit the nail on the head.

Waffleizer is a new blog after my own heart. I love that he’s contriving ways to waffle all sorts of non-standard textural delights. And I really love that this guy is endeavoring to become some sort of  Waffle Profiteer, promoting the sales of waffle irons as part of the raison d’etre for the site. (Dang. Why didn’t I think of that?)

His non-rhetorical query “Will It Waffle“ is the new “WWJD“.
Sir, please let me design your merch. T-shirts.
Aprons.
Waffle-Iron Stickers.
Quelque chose.
Anything.

Here, Waffled Aloo Parantha:

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And here, Waffled Cheezburger:
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And I just love your flashy ways
Guess that’s why I’m broke and you’re so paid…

In light of the profound volume of middle-school giggle-fits presently happening online today thanks to to the frenzy around the unveiling of Steve Jobs’ new shiny thing, I dredged up and posted the file for this old ink drawing that I recently rediscovered:

But this, of course, naturally just set off another round of middle-school giggle-fits among the friends on Facebook, so it seemed only right to take 5 minutes to work up a further statement of the obvious:

It reminds me of my 2007 MFA show invitation. Which probably makes sense to about 7 people I can think of.

GHOTCZ #4: Czech Lessons

You know that episode of 30 Rock where they suspect that Tracy Jordan is illiterate? And he plays into it, wailing melodramatically, “I can’t reeead, Liz Lemon! My shameful secret is out. Now you know why I’m always running into the ladies bathroom. I can’t read! I sign my name with an X! I once tried to make mashed potatoes with laundry detergent! I think I voted for Nader! Nader!” For some reason this was the image in my head whenever confronted with the initial inscrutability of Czech text. Which was every day. Signs. Sentences. Menus. Magazines. And let’s not even get started on understanding the spoken language. I’m a lousy auditory processor in any language, so deciphering speech has been doubly difficult. Which I guess makes me the Helen Keller of learning Czech.

P, however found a great Czech language teacher, Jana Slavikova (Czech for Foreigners in Prague). Not only is she exceedingly patient with our gruesome, slow-death mangling of her language, she’s a great teacher and friend. And Czech is a really fascinating, if profoundly complex, language, so it’s stimulating learning it with her. P and I are making slow progress, but it’s progress nonetheless. And without Jana, I wouldn’t have met some other very cool women that I’m now friendly with as well.

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GHOTCZ#5: Nov 17 1989/2009

For those of you a little shaky on European history, 1989 marked the beginning of the collapse of Communism in Eastern Europe,  including such dramatic events as the destruction of the Berlin Wall, and the Velvet Revolution in Czechoslovakia. On Nov 17, 1989, thousands of Czechs took to the streets in a peaceful protest that was the beginning of a string of political actions and events that led to the demise of the Communist era. We walked with the reenactment/anniversary parade, and it was unbelievably, unexpectedly moving. Participants were for the most part, incredibly quiet and mellow: none of the hollering, sequins and bombast that would probably accompany an equivalent American commemoration. Czechs are so low-key in general, it felt only fitting that their protests would be so…velvety. Somehow, this made the occasion all the more emotional.




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GHOTCZ#6: Spartákiáda on YouTube

The continuation of my enthusiasm for large masses of people up to interesting antics! In an utterly different context!
Those of you who know of my profound obsession with the Cebu Prisoners (aka the Dancing Inmates) in the Philippines will appreciate my new-found obsession with vintage footage of the epic “Spartakiada” performances at Strahov Stadium, here in Prague. These mass gymnastics displays were held every 5 years during the Communist era.

Google or Youtube the term “Spartakiada” if you want more: this one’s my current favorite. It’s not just the little white shorts I like: formally, there’s also something about all of this playing out on a dirt field the color of skin, as opposed to the green-ness of grass or Astroturf.  (It does, however, feel more like it should be the opening ceremonies for the next SF Pride, as opposed to a celebration of Czech youth and vigor. But then, I’m a San Francisco native, so I was indoctrinated a little differently).

Ten years ago in January, I gave my first batch of Leadership High School students a New Years’ assignment entitled “Self-Portrait in 10 Years: 2010”. This was my first year as a “real” (mostly surreal) teacher at a pretty bizarre school where we made up the rules as we went along, and where nobody seemed to notice when I gave students psychologically loaded homework.

Students had to write a New Year’s letter to themselves, reflecting on the last ten years of their lives, and make a self-portrait art piece, as well. Since they were only 16 or 17 years old at the time, they had to envision what they thought they’d be like at 26 or 27 years old, and to imagine what had happened in those ten years in-between.

It was made clear that kids didn’t have to be model citizens in this project: they were free to project their futures into this project, regardless of appropriateness. The resultant projects were funny and poignant, especially in thinking about them now. Some students expected to be married with kids. A number of girls expected to be strippers. A couple of kids were fugitives from the law. One kid was working in a shoe store after some prison time. Another was getting out of celebrity rehab. Someone controlled the universe. One girl had a piercing studio. Two students were high tech pimps. Despite the lack of access to the work, I remember many of those assignments well, and I have incredibly fond (if slightly disturbing) memories of them.

I took photos and made copies of all of their work, fully intending to return the projects right around now. (Because I’m sentimental and nuts like that. Not to mention a total pack rat.) Of course, I’m now in Prague and the work is still buried deep in storage in California, so other than a couple of jpegs that ended up on my laptop, it may take a bit longer before I can get the work back to my former students.

Woff and Pizzi with her 2010 project, LHS, 2000

I did some further recall, and realized that I’m still in contact with over half of this first group of students. They were a pretty amazing, funny group of kids, I was a young, beginner teacher, and LHS was a tiny, new school: while I’ve always stayed in contact with individual students, I was probably closer to this group as a whole than any other batch of students since.

Their assignments were wildly inaccurate projections, as it turns out. Not too many strippers or fugitives (that I know of): some grad students, some parents, some teachers, some slackers. Your classic cross-section of San Francisco adults in their mid-twenties, all still precious, interesting and unique.

The “Self-Portrait in 10 Years” assignment became a January tradition for my students over the following few years. This means that in the next few years I’ll have many other projects that need to be returned, as well.

Here’s the original assignment, below.
You know, for those of you who want to do it and send it to me for safe-keeping for 10 years.
______________________

SELF-PORTRAIT: 2010

Your first art project of the new year is a response to time passing: art being as it is a good creative record of how one lives one’s life, the New Year seems like an appropriate time and method to reflect on who you are and who you think you’re becoming. While many people use birthdays or anniversaries as markers and milestones, January 1 is a relatively universal opportunity to share and reflect with others.

You are to write a long New Year’s letter to yourself, and create a self-portrait, incorporating the things you’ve done, the things you love, the things that surround you in your daily environment.

But.

Let’s make it more interesting.

You are to do this project, as you are, ten years from now.

2010: THE LETTER

1. A New Year’s Day reflective letter/journal entry, as you are in the year 2010, 1.5 to 2 pages, typed single-spaced

2. It should probably include thoughtful reflection about the last ten years of your life: what’ve you gone through since you were in high school? You’re now 26 years old. What have you done? Where’d you go to college (if you went)? Where did you go? Did you travel? Get married? Divorced? Have kids? Are you in politics? In jail? Are you happy with your life?  Did some twist of fate take you on a path you never expected?

3. Don’t just list things off (I did this. I did that. Bo-o-o-ring.) Make it personal, interesting, engaging, believable, because this who you truly are, and will always be. Really come up with a sense of who you are, who you’ve become in your 20s. Describe where you are, physically, professionally, emotionally.

2010: THE SELF-PORTRAIT

1. A semi-realistic self-portrait, as you are in the year 2010, mixed media, 9×12 to 11×14 inches

2. Include physical details about your life and present environment. These can include items such as the place you’re living/working/traveling in. They may also include supporting cast members such as family, dear friends, jail wardens, co-workers, children, yada yada yada. Bear in mind that as you age, your basic features and proportions won’t change tremendously. You may fill out. You may thin out. Some low-level wrinkles may start to show. Hairstyles will change. Fashions will change. Have fun with this. Use your imagination. Consider looking at photos of your parents or other familiar figures when they were in their 20s. Use photos of yourself that would make useful references.
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Behold: the nerdy “sample” self-portrait I did as a demo for kids on the back of my folder, imagining myself in 2010. Other than having and keeping that motorcycle (which I hadn’t yet acquired at the time of this drawing) until about 6 months ago, I’m somewhat relieved to say my self-portrait was wildly inaccurate, as well.