Category: Article

Artists of all stripes have turned the MIA’s gallery devoted to Minnesota artists into a ground zero for political propaganda. Sweeping, populist, and endearingly shaggy, the exhibit has more in common with the bulletin boards on college campuses or at community centers than with the remote atmosphere of your average art gallery. Through an ongoing open call, artists are continually submitting election-themed posters, T-shirts, flyers, pins, and commercials. As expected, the walls were quickly covered. Curators have begun stapling pieces atop one another, creating a layered account of our political moods leading up to the election—and, since the exhibit runs all month, its aftermath. 612-870-3131; www.artsmia.org

Hard to believe it’s been five years since Franklin Art Works, the little art gallery that could, added a new chapter to the life of a vaudeville theater-turned-porn multiplex. Now, of course, it’s a sleek yet simple space exhibiting work from both local and national artists, many of whom probably wouldn’t otherwise be shown in these parts. FAW celebrates this anniversary with an innovative take on a ‘best of’ show, featuring exquisite corpse drawings made by artists—including David Rathman and Mary Esch—whose work the art center has exhibited in previous years. Also on view will be Pictures of What Happens on Each Page of Thomas Pynchon’s Novel Gravity’s Rainbow, drawings by Zak Smith whose title indicates the extensive and sprawling nature of the series (pictured at left). A Yale MFA who strikes a punk pose, Smith is a fan of freneticism, psychedelia, and excess, and was one of the standouts at last spring’s Whitney Biennial. Rounding out the exhibit is a video by conceptual artist Jan Estep. 1021 Franklin Ave. E., Minneapolis; 612-872-7494; www.franklinartworks.org

Our good friend Webster defines the book primarily as “a set of written sheets of skin or paper, bound together in a volume” or “a long written or printed literary composition.” Its secondary (and, we feel, more progressive) definition is “something that yields knowledge or understanding.” The selections from Walker Art Center’s library on display at the Minnesota Center for Book Arts illustrate this broader definition—and how. You’ll find a variety of Bubba-Gump proportions—there are scrapbooks, pop-up books, boxed books, checkbooks, books-on-tape—as well as featured books of art and books as art from Marcel Duchamp, Dieter Roth, Edward Ruscha, and John Lennon and Yoko Ono. 1011 Washington Ave. S., Minneapolis; 612-215-2520; mcba@mnbookarts.org

Chang acquired quite an illustrious reputation with Hunger, her first collection of stories. Now she’s exceeded the expectations generated by that book with her first novel, Inheritance, a multi-generational saga that follows the Wang family through the twentieth century, from imperial China to modern America. At one point, Chanyi, “old” at thirty-four and part of the last generation whose women had bound feet, takes her daughters Junan and Yinan to a fortune teller to find out if she might still bear her husband a son. Chang’s style is spare, her prose unassuming but deceptively powerful. In just a few pages she constructs the kind of psychological atmosphere that allows the reader to feel deeply, in an almost eery way, this woman’s quiet devastation. AI Johnson Great Room, McNamara Alumni Center, 200 Oak St. SE, UM East Bank; Minneapolis; 612-625-6366

In a world without Paul Wellstone, Gilb is that much more of a treasure. Having written two acclaimed story collections and a novel, he is back with a potent series of thirty-six essays, Gritos. A quote from one, a brief tribute titled Steinbeck, tells you where he’s coming from: “The literary world is a powerful suit-and-tie business, and the well-dressed stories that editors look for are too much by writers whose game is played as professionally as Harvard MBAs, whose marketing goals are not meant to cause a reader to step outside the privileged cubicle to see who’s sweeping the floor in the hours after they’ve gone home.” Forceful, often funny, and always one hundred percent BS-free, Gilb is a construction worker-turned-university professor who stands up for the millions among us who know “hard work” all too well, but who (unlike our commander in chief) do not whine about it. He reads as part of the Chicano & Latino Writers Festival.
Dayton’s Bluff Branch/Metropolitan State University Library, Ecolab Room, 645 E. 7th St., St. Paul; 651-222-3242; http://www.thefriends.org/calendar.htm

At last, a biography of the man whom many call the greatest guitarist ever. Django Reinhardt was born in Belgium in 1910 to gypsy parents, and began playing music when he was twelve. At eighteen, he was almost killed in a fire that left him the use of only two fingers on his left hand. He went on to become Europe’s most dazzling jazz player with his Quintette du Hot Club de France (one of the best band names ever), and a musical legend in his own right, composing and playing complex, joyous songs with the dance built right in. Michael Dregni offers at least hints as to how this was accomplished when he reads from Django: The Life and Music of a Gypsy Legend. 3225 W. 69th St., Edina; 952-920-0633

Bonnie and Clyde didn’t act alone—actually, their crime spree became the ultimate double date when Clyde’s brother Buck and his wife Blanche joined in the reindeer games. Of the four, Blanche is the only one who lived to tell the whole sordid tale, which she put down on paper while serving time in the thirties. The tale of her 107 days on the lam—one of the only “inside” accounts of life with the Barrow Gang—is substantially fleshed out with commentary, notes, and biographical information from editor John Neal Phillips, one of the foremost Bonnie-and-Clyde researchers.

A few years back, A.J. Jacobs was feeling like a bit of a nincompoop. At the age of thirty-five, he had long ago forgotten everything from his Nietzsche seminar at Brown University. His work life, writing for the likes of Entertainment Weekly and Esquire, inspired a concern for all things superficial: movie stars, boy bands, breast implants. One day he awoke to the realization that he could quote The Simpsons better than Song of Myself, and thus embarked on a self-prescribed campaign to get smart. And not just a little smart—he set out to become the smartest person ever by reading all thirty-two volumes of the Encyclopaedia Britannica. In transferring its contents to his brain, he sought to whittle down the experience and came up with the book, The Know-It-All: One Man’s Humble Quest to Become the Smartest Person in the World. As you might imagine, Jacobs learned a lot through the experience, much if not most of it the kind of stuff that goes far beyond book-learnin’. (He also won—and lost—a lot of money when he put his smarts to the test on Who Wants to Be a Millionaire?) Here, Jacobs pares things down even further in telling us what he’d take along on a desert-island exile:

1. The F volume of the Encyclopaedia Britannica. So I could study the fish section and figure out which were edible, and which would cause me to have a seizure. Also, I can never read enough about Farinelli, the famous eighteenth century castrato.

2. A crwth. Maybe not my most useful pick, but it’s my favorite word in the Encyclopaedia. It’s a Welsh musical instrument similar to a harp. And if you’re ever stuck with a Scrabble rack that has no vowels, it’s a word you need to know. Plus, it’d be good to have some music to pass the time.

3. The P volume of the Encyclopaedia. Which contains the most inspiring paragraph I have ever read: “We were born of risen apes, not fallen angels. And so what shall we wonder at? Our murders and massacres and missiles, and our irreconcilable regiments? Or our treaties whatever they may be worth; our symphonies however seldom they may be played; our peaceful acres, however frequently they may be converted into battlefields; our dreams however rarely they may be accomplished.” Amen!

4. A photo of my six-month-old son Jasper doing his favorite pose, the fist-in-the-air/fight-the-power gesture.

5. A Mattell electronic football game. The primitive handheld one with red blips on the screen from the eighties. Still my favorite video game.

Alternate: The N volume of the Encyclopaedia. I’ll have plenty of time to contemplate the Number Games section, which includes little-known math tricks such as “3 X 37 = 111. 6 X 37 = 222. 9 X 37 = 333.” Well, it beats thinking about lack of food.

Tucked into a cute side street in Linden Hills, Café 28 is a secret we’d rather not reveal—but we’ll think of it as long-term security. Remember the D’Amico joint in the old fire station next to Wild Rumpus books? That’s the place. Unlike the previous tenant, this restaurant is an upscale sit-down affair, with a refreshingly simple, seasonal menu (perennial recommendation: the signature gorgonzola pear salad). Twenty-Eight’s two greatest selling points, beyond its haute cuisine in the contemporary style, are a mighty funky beer list (we tried a German wheat beer poured over raspberry sauce in its own crystal bowl), and what may be the nicest patio south of Lake Street. That asset will be a memory for a few months now, but don’t let that stop you from looking in on this lovely, intimate eatery. 2724 West Forty-third St., Minneapolis, 612-926-2800

You might have heard about this new “coffee shop” in the heart of Northeast, but trust us: Wilde Roast is so much more than lattes and scones and free publications and concert notices strewn about. We might even go so far as to say that it strives to be all things to all people. They’re open morning, noon, and night, serving breakfast (crème brûlée French toast!), snacks (an elegant cheese plate), transporting desserts (a deliciously dense brownie is just the beginning), and wines (the list, appropriately, tends toward more affordable bottles). But that’s just the comestibles. Hang out here for a while—which is easy to do, given the plump leather sofas, brocade chairs, and fireplace—and you’ll see how all manner of folks are drawn to this place for their own reasons. Suddenly, Wilde Roast seems essential. Sometimes you don’t know what you need until it’s given to you. 518 Hennepin Avenue, 612-331-4544; www.wilderoastcafe.com