Author: rakemag

In his mid-fifties, New York financier William B. Post developed a new hobby, photographing comely young Edwardian women primping and simpering in sentimental poses. He would have remained a dilettante had he not gone outside for a little fresh air. Post’s country place in Maine set him in the midst of a wild beauty and changing terrain that inspired him to craft a new kind of landscape photography. In exquisitely processed scenes featuring graceful forest paths, unruly apple trees, and waters moving through frozen fields, Post documented what looks like a lost or mythical land (and a century later, it probably is lost). Post’s work was eventually championed by Alfred Stieglitz, proving that the gentleman hobbyist had become an artist, but it was all but forgotten in the years after his death. Now it’s once again on the radar; this gathering of fifty-nine silver prints is the largest exhibition of his photographs to date. 612-870-3131; www.artsmia.org

Adulthood is overrated in many ways, and that’s especially so in Istanbul, according to this comedy set in an apartment building full of nosy folks. There’s the six-year-old who doesn’t want to get circumcised. There’s the teenager who doesn’t want to join the military. And then there’s the poor guy who’s exiting his twenties, but doesn’t want to move out of his parents’ home. And why would he? The grownup world is just so demanding, and oftentimes so stupid. Reha Erdem’s lighthearted look at three phases of manhood is part of the Walker’s “Global Lens” series of films from developing and under-filmed countries. 612-375-7622; www.walkerart.org

This ambitious and high-concept show has twenty-eight artists considering the future of black culture. From Sun Ra’s cosmic jazz to Brother From Another Planet to DJ Spooky’s book Rhythm Science, the notion of a rising black culture that blends art and technology is nothing new. But the varied film, sound, collage, and multimedia works housed in the Soap Factory’s sprawling warehouse suggest that the future may already be here. Films screen on walls, floors, computer terminals, and even tiny screens embedded in collages, while more traditional media make bold pronouncements about race, culture, and art. Graffiti and canvas paintings have equal weight here, but the artists who have plugged in are the real visionaries. 518 Second St. S.E., Minneapolis; 612-623-9176; www.soapfactory.org; www.obsidianarts.org

Getting around in the city can be intense, whether you’re swerving on your bike to avoid oblivious pedestrians, crammed into a crowded bus at rush hour, or squeezing past that bus in a car. The crush can be oppressive, but it can also have moments of hectic beauty; the latter is what inspires Shawn McNulty and Dave Whannel, whose massive abstract works convey the complexities of urban interaction. McNulty often approaches street life from an aerial perspective, which equalizes the people and machines in motion, and reveals inequities at the same time. Whannel’s paintings, as big as small cars, include hidden objects that reward those who take the time to make a careful inspection. 1011 Washington Ave. S., Minneapolis, 612-747-3942; www.rosaluxgallery.com

Huang Yong Ping is a perfect choice for the Walker’s first full-scale retrospective since its reopening last spring. While he’s known within the global contemporary art firmament, this exhibition will expose his work to more of us regular folks–and thus add him to the lengthy roster of international artists (think Rirkrit Tiravanija, Krystof Wodiczko, Fischli and Weiss) whose reputations the Walker has helped to build. Huang’s The History of Chinese Painting and the History of Modern Western Art Washed in the Washing Machine for Two Minutes (pictured here) was on display at the museum earlier this year, but it’s an exception to his usual M.O. Laden with obscure references to Chinese history, philosophy, and mythology, most of it is deliberately challenging–so it would behoove you to take advantage of an opening-day tour of the exhibition by its curator (and the Walker’s new deputy director), Philippe Vergne. 612-375-7600; www.walkerart.org

The cringe-inducing title of this show is borrowed from the name of a bar, one that was the center of a peculiar sort of mayhem in mid-century rural Missouri. From 1948 to 1951, the regulars at the Bloody Bucket included a flood of World War II veterans who continued to live out the violence they’d become accustomed to overseas. In the decades after the bar closed, tales of its debauchery became part of the local lore–and became fixed in the imagination of Tom Huck, who grew up in the area. His large-scale yet delicate and wildly detailed wood block prints bring some of these lurid moments to life with wicked humor and a complete lack of restraint. 357 13th Ave. N.E., Minneapolis; 612-331-3889; www.roguebuddha.com

With her all-seeing eye and clear, impelling, and quietly humorous prose, Joan Didion helped shape the golden age of literary journalism in the sixties and seventies. In particular, her book of California essays, Slouching Towards Bethlehem, was a landmark work that confirmed for the rest of the country that strange folks indeed populate that state. Since then, Didion has written numerous investigative pieces, essays on personalities and politics, novels, and memoirs. Her latest, The Year of Magical Thinking, chronicles the year after the death of her husband, writer John Gregory Dunne, and the grave illnesses of Quintana Roo, their only child (who died in August). As a writer, Didion is known as the ultimate cool customer, and while she maintains that clinical reserve in this book, the palpable struggle to keep herself together is devastating and compelling. And so the main question here is: How does one of literature’s most esteemed figures conduct a book tour in the wake of her most recent loss? 651-290-1221; www.fitzgeraldtheater.org

In an American literary scene where the writer’s gaze has been steadily turning inward for decades, Philip Levine’s concerns–blue-collar work, exploitation, social justice, and spirituality–are so virtuous as to be almost anachronistic. Born to Jewish immigrants in Detroit in 1928, Levine did a long apprenticeship in the Motor City’s industrial academies, and his poetry–distinguished by a rare absence of flash and by brutal, plainspoken honesty–has consistently ennobled “those who have failed.” His talk takes its title from a powerful poem by Denise Levertov. If this heroic figure in person is anything like the voice in his poetry, expect a straight shooter with plenty of relevant and resonant things to say about the current state of America.

It took a while, but the Twin Cities finally got a literary festival of the caliber of Chicago’s great Printer’s Row Book Fair. Every year, the folks behind this true labor of love seem to push the thing further in the right direction. This is no mere gathering of highbrows and academics; sure, there is still the (always expanding) literary magazine fair, used book sale, and appearances by challenging characters along the lines of Eliot Weinberger–but beyond all that, the festival has become more egalitarian and entertaining each year (this is its fifth). The lineup includes appearances by, among others, Rick Moody, Ana Castillo, Chitra Banerjee Divakaruni, Pete Hautman, and Alison McGhee. The legendary comic pioneer Harvey Pekar will also be on hand to chat with Mary Lucia, which alone should be worth a whole lot more than nothing, which is all this shindig will cost you. 1501 Hennepin Ave., Minneapolis; 612-825-1528; www.raintaxi.com/bookfest

American gun lovers who hated Bowling for Columbine have got another thing coming with Dear Wendy. Scriptwriter Lars von Trier already raised hackles on these shores for his blasting of bedrock American values in Dogville; that’s partly why Dear Wendy was directed by his buddy, Thomas Vinterberg, who is himself responsible for The Celebration, one of the best dysfunctional family dramas of all time. Given the proclivities of this Danish duo, expect some outrage over this story of how Dick, inspired by love for his gun (which he calls “Wendy”), establishes a club for the other boys in his small town. Homoeroticism is bound to be the least of Dear Wendy’s provocations. 309 Oak St. S.E., Minneapolis; 612-331-3134; www.mnfilmarts.org