Category: Blog Post

ART
Practice What You Preach

With so many great art galleries and artists in town, it’s easy to get wrapped up in the high-profile exhibit spaces and lose sight of some of the most productive and interesting venues — the colleges. While we occasionally make our way to one or two of the numerous (and often underestimated) student shows, we so often forget about the molders, the authorities, the mentors, those who choose to dedicate their lives and art to inspiration and guidance, rather than surrendering themselves to the competitive world of selling, of turning their art into a business. Is this a romanticized notion of the art educator? Perhaps. But as a former teacher, I have to believe that at last some percentage of us do it for noble reasons. Regardless, you have an opportunity tonight to indulge this romanticism, and to experience how an artist stands behind his own words, how he honors the art of teaching. It’s an awfully vulnerable state for an educator to put himself in — exposing his own work to analysis, rather than simply sitting back to analyze. Will they live up to their own demands? Find out for yourself. The College of Visual Arts (CVA) begins its fall semester with the Annual Faculty Exhibition. Head out tonight for a public reception, and view faculty 2D and 3D artwork in the college gallery.

6 – 8 p.m., College of Visual Arts Gallery, 173 Western Ave. at Selby Ave., St. Paul; 651-290-9379; free.

FILM
It’s Thursday, so if you’ve been an avid Secrets reader, you should be expecting me to send you off to the Bell Museum Courtyard for the latest, and the last, of their ’50s sci-fi horror movies. This week’s movie is The Giant Gila Monster, so help yourself to a dose of teenage heroism against a 50-foot monster, if you like. Or choose from two slightly more “highbrow” options.

Conquering Ozymandius

You’ve seen this image before. Of course you have. If nothing else, at least a cheap print in a college dorm. (I had one myself. I mean, it’s beautiful, albeit cliché at this point.) It’s Gustav Klimt’s Gold Portrait, stolen from Viennese Jews in 1938 and now the most expensive painting ever sold — and the opening subject of The Rape of Europa, an “epic story of the systematic theft, deliberate destruction, and miraculous survival of Europe’s art treasures during World War II.” Have you heard of the Venus Fixers, the Monument Men, the Roberts Commission, the MFAA? They were essentially a pared down Secret Service of the art world through the 1940s — young museum directors, curators, art professors, and architects who volunteered to protect Europe’s strong artistic cultural history by policing looting, theft, destruction, and artistic loss of any kind. The Rape of Europa maps out Europe’s artistic loss at the hands of the Nazis over the course of twelve years — the most savage theft and destruction of art to date. See the film this evening and carry the experience to full hilt with a discussion led by Corine Wegener, assistant curator in the Department of Architecture, Design, Decorative Arts, Craft, and Sculpture; and Erika Holmquist-Wall, curatorial assistant in the Department of Paintings and Modern Sculpture.

6-8 p.m., Pillsbury Auditorium, Minneapolis Institute of Arts, 2400 Third Ave. S., Minneapolis; 612-870-3200; $5, free to MIA members.

Honesty and Illness Don’t Necessarily Equal Lifetime

After a reasonably successful short (Lena’s Spaghetti) in the Telluride Film Festival, Director Joseh Greco set out to make “a film about mental illness that was not only true to [his] experience, but also universal” — an emotionally honest look at schizophrenia. I’ll spare you all the plot details, which on paper (or screen) might inaccurately portray a typical Lifetime movie. I assure you, the schizophrenic mother is not played by Meredith Baxter Birney. Canvas is raw and real, telling the beautiful and painful tale of ten-year-old Chris Marino (played by newcomer Devon Gearhart), his dysfunctional family, and the bizarre and somehow admirable relationship that develops between the boy and his father in the midst of crisis.

7:30 p.m., Oak Street Cinema, 309 Oak St. S.E., Minneapolis; $8 (seniors $6, members/students $5).

THEATER & PERFORMANCE
She or He?

“In my wedding there won’t be a groom, there won’t be a bride. I’ll just stand, and everybody will come, shake my hand. Then they’ll go dancing, and I will stay standing,” writes former Israeli soldier and transgender playwright Ronny Almog. And I can only assume that after reading the last half of that sentence, you’ve completely forgotten the first part, the quote. Former Israeli soldier and transgender playwright? That’s enough to get my attention. He certainly must have something interesting to say, no? “In my wedding there won’t be a groom, there won’t be a bride.” But there is a wedding, right? How does a transgender person establish a balance between the established social needs and the need for new parameters? Somewhere In Between examines gender identity. What is a man? What is a woman? If you can answer these questions in any acceptable manner, you need to start writing. You need to share it with the world. But don’t expect a cookie-cutter answer from Somewhere In Between. Ronny Almog presents the questions, explores the resulting “distress, pain, confusion, rejoice, pleasure and enjoyment,” and leaves you to formulate the answers on your own — as all good art should do. And as all good art should do, the play presents itself in a manner truly representative of its time — “a multimedia assault.”

7 p.m., The St. Paul Jewish Community Center, 1375 St. Paul Avenue, St. Paul; 651-698-0751; $15 ($12 for St. Paul Jewish Community Center and Center for Independent Artist members).

If you miss tonight’s performance, you can catch it at the Center for Independent Artists this weekend.

MUSIC FESTIVAL
Concrete and Grass

St. Paul has had some especially bad luck with its outdoor festivities this year. True, some events have been spared, but I drove through there a couple weeks ago to find several different neighborhoods cordoned off and empty beneath the rain, a nullified pupa. Let’s make sure this doesn’t repeat itself this weekend. We’re drip dry. And as long as it’s not too cold (and we know cold), we can weather the storm — as long as it’s worthwhile. Tonight begins the first-ever Concrete and Grass: Lowertown Music Festival in Mears Park. The festival features an eclectic mix of twenty local groups spanning pop, classical, blues, country, world, funk, and soul music — including Reilly, The Alarmists (who play this evening at the Mill City Museum), Joanna James, and Maria Isa. Tonight’s acts include Jonathan Delehanty, the Saint Paul Chamber Orchestra, and Chastity Brown and the Sound. If you can’t make it tonight, try to make it to Friday’s happy-hour concert, or Saturday’s thirteen-hours music fest. You’ll need a lawn chair for that one.

5 – 9:30 p.m., Mears Park, Lowertown St. Paul; 651-292-3248; free.

You’ve seen this image before. Of course you have. If nothing else, at least a cheap print in a college dorm. (I had one myself. I mean, it’s beautiful, albeit cliché at this point.) It’s Gustav Klimt’s Gold Portrait, stolen from Viennese Jews in 1938 and now the most expensive painting ever sold — and the opening subject of The Rape of Europa, an “epic story of the systematic theft, deliberate destruction, and miraculous survival of Europe’s art treasures during World War II.” Have you heard of the Venus Fixers, the Monument Men, the Roberts Commission, the MFAA? They were essentially a pared down Secret Service of the art world through the 1940s — young museum directors, curators, art professors, and architects who volunteered to protect Europe’s strong artistic cultural history by policing looting, theft, destruction, and artistic loss of any kind. The Rape of Europa maps out Europe’s artistic loss at the hands of the Nazis over the course of twelve years — the most savage theft and destruction of art to date. See the film this evening and carry the experience to full hilt with a discussion led by Corine Wegener, assistant curator in the Department of Architecture, Design, Decorative Arts, Craft, and Sculpture; and Erika Holmquist-Wall, curatorial assistant in the Department of Paintings and Modern Sculpture.

6-8 p.m., Pillsbury Auditorium, Minneapolis Institute of Arts, 2400 Third Ave. S., Minneapolis; 612-870-3200; $5, free to MIA members.

After a reasonably successful short (Lena’s Spaghetti) in the Telluride Film Festival, Director Joseh Greco set out to make “a film about mental illness that was not only true to [his] experience, but also universal” — an emotionally honest look at schizophrenia. I’ll spare you all the plot details, which on paper (or screen) might inaccurately portray a typical Lifetime movie. I assure you, the schizophrenic mother is not played by Meredith Baxter Birney. Canvas is raw and real, telling the beautiful and painful tale of ten-year-old Chris Marino (played by newcomer Devon Gearhart), his dysfunctional family, and the bizarre and somehow admirable relationship that develops between the boy and his father in the midst of crisis.

7:30 p.m., Oak Street Cinema, 309 Oak St. S.E., Minneapolis; $8 (seniors $6, members/students $5).

Dah car ees guut. The pic is smoll.

I have always been a bigger fan of vertical speed than the horizontal kind. Nothing beats a hurl down the hill under one’s own power. As we approach winter I will be waxing about this most excellent of all sports. (Ski racing in paticular, the last remaining sport I know of that is devoid of politics as it is just you and the clock.)

Getting to the hill in style is another matter altogether. I have found over the years that small estate wagons are the best transport. You can drive them to the hill and then drive home at breakneck speeds home once the snow melts.

After a hiatus of uninspired models, Mercedes is back on top with its geist-scorching new C class. I have included a European press shot above. It reflects Mercedes’ updated design language, with design cues from the new S-Class sedan and R-Class crossover. I have both seen and driven it and I pronounce it the new King of Wagon Hill.

So I’m talking to my friend Schneider today and he asks, “Are you watching Wine Library TV?”

“Damn,” I think to myself. “I guess it’s time to bite the bullet and get cable.”

First I find out there’s this show on HBO featuring dysfunctional couples having real sex; not good sex, mind you, and never the complete sex act, but real, graphic scenes of unsatisfying attenuated sex. Not that I think I’d want to see that. But if everyone else has the option of watching crabby, unhappy people having bad sex, I think I might want to have the option, too. And now Schneider, former blog master of Wine Commando and a man I trust on the topic of wine like no other, seemed to be telling me there was an entire station devoted to wine TV.

This was, however, a misunderstanding.

In fact, Wine Library TV is on the web, free for everyone with a broadband connection to watch. Each 15-minute “show” features a ferrety young New Jersey guy named Gary Vaynerchuk (pictured above) who appears to be broadcasting out of his parents’ basement rec room. Think of this as the Wayne’s World of wine media. Vaynerchuk uses words like “poopy” and “Jersey armpit” to describe what he smells and/or tastes. When a wine starts well but has a disappointing finish, he dubs it a “Netflix” — good until the last few scenes.

This man uses a Jets beer bucket to spit, has toy figures strewn around his decanting space, and draws little cartoons on the green board behind his head — Blue’s Clues-style — to illustrate the theme of the day. What’s more, he is weirdly addictive.

The best part? The segment I watched today was #308, so I’m betting there are 307 others I can watch back-to-back — say — over the weekend. And I don’t even have to get cable TV, unless I want to see that bad, bad sex.