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Sure, you know Dylan’s from these parts, but do you really know Dylan? This retrospective of his early years, curated by Seattle’s Experience Music Project, should appeal to casual fans and obsessives alike, tracing his evolution from Hibbing rock ’n’ roller to Dinkytown folk-scenester, then on to New York, where he was destined to achieve almost-mythic status. The Weisman has expanded the exhibit to emphasize the legend’s Minnesota roots, including additional relics from his Hibbing and Dinkytown days. Bonuses include artifacts from Dylan’s contemporaries: a handwritten note from Joan Baez, the spur-adorned boots of Ramblin’ Jack Elliot, and Woody Guthrie’s acoustic guitar, with his name scratched, childlike, onto the back. 333 East River Rd., Minneapolis; 612-625-9494; www.weisman.umn.edu

Like all good minimalists, Rollin Marquette trains his focus on the materials he works with: individual servings of pasteurized cheese-food product poked through chicken wire, or plastic tubes filled with electric-green antifreeze, or, in his latest installation, balsa wood and steel. Wedged into two galleries at the MIA (and piercing the wall between them), this untitled work offers up a series of contrasts: Dark industrial steel beams play off the bright, clean elegance of the gallery space; the sheer heft of those beams ironically holds aloft a ring of balsa wood—which is itself given weightiness and depth by being charred and waxed. (Or do those beams keep the ring from floating away?) On the whole, this assemblage comes off as some oddball feat of engineering, or a mysterious monument from a long-gone militaristic society. 612-870-3131; www.artsmia.org

Life at the Grande Chartreuse monastery, nestled deep within the French Alps, has remained virtually unchanged for almost a thousand years. Following their motto, “The Cross is steady while the world is turning,” these Carthusian monks live entirely in silence and are even cloistered from one another. In 1984, German filmmaker Philip Gröning sought permission to document their solitary life. “It is not time,” came the terse reply. Sixteen years later, however, the doors were opened. Gröning wandered unfettered through the monastery, recording the lives of these devout men using natural light and pretty much nothing else: no score, no voice-over, no archival footage. The result is a film of almost shocking gravity, and, at nearly three hours, it is perhaps a tonic for our fast, information-clogged life.

Six regionally based artists take cues from nature in artworks that are—and this is not intended as a backhanded compliment—both clever and stylish. Made from foam, plastic, and felt, Liz Miller’s Errant Ecosystem sprawls over three walls with graphical aplomb, while Holly Anderson Jorde’s quartet of seasonal ceramic assemblages radiates a 50s vibe. And the drawings on cardboard boxes of cardboard-boxes-as-architecture by David Lefkowitz resonate on numerous levels: Think living spaces for the homeless, playthings for children. Also on view: a wall drawing of bedclothes-as-landscape by Cherith Lundin, Margaret Pezalla-Granlund’s sculptural interpretations of icebergs and skateboard parks, and Erika Olson’s whimsical woodland constructions in felt. 651-266-1030; www.mmaa.org

This fiddling, clogging, four-girl jug band reveres old-time American music, rabble-rousing, and knocking down gender boundaries. But unlike their compatriots the Dixie Chicks, Uncle Earl’s music is open to a wide range of influences. How else to explain their choice of Led Zeppelin’s John Paul Jones as producer, their occasional lyrics sung in Mandarin Chinese, and the albums marked by both humor and moments of show-stopping beauty? Guests like Tara Nevins (Donna the Buffalo) and Gillian Welch make appearances on their latest, Waterloo, Tennessee, and they’ll appear at the Cedar with country/ bluegrass favorite Jim Lauderdale. Cedar Cultural Center, 416 Cedar Ave. S., Minneapolis; 612-338-2674; www.thecedar.org

Every time we see an ad for the Gap’s laughably unattractive Red campaign for Africa, we cringe for Bono. The man who started his career writing great political songs should stick to that, rather than shilling a failing clothier’s misguided marketing schemes. He could take a cue from Ted Leo, whose catchy and beguiling indie rock tunes sit right beside those of the Shins, the Thrills, and the Postal Service. Sure, Leo’s troubled by the world, as evidenced by lyrics about girlfriends with eating disorders, the war in Iraq, police brutality, and Republican politics, but his lighthearted melodies offer an enticing bit of optimism. “Do you believe in something beautiful? Then get up and be it,” he sings. Listen up, Bono.

Iron John has replaced his men’s drum circle with the sweet, soaring harmonies of Cantus’ nine angelic male singers. Cantus premieres A Sound Like This by Twin Cities composer Edie Hill, which sets to music the mystical verse of Indian bard Kabir, as translated by Robert Bly. Kabir, a fifteenth-century weaver and poet, is said to have lived for 120 years. His deceptively simple two-line poems explore some of mankind’s deepest philosophical quandaries, which—as Bly’s translations make clear—are still entirely relevant to today’s global conversation. 2128 Fourth St. S., Minneapolis; 612-624-2345; www.music.umn.edu/facilities/tedMann.php www.music.umn.edu/facilities/tedMann.php

In the span of a few weeks at the Cedar, it’s possible to experience a dozen-piece African band, a haunting hardanger fiddle player, an Iowan folksinger, a Saami joiker, and a legendary bluegrass band. This intimate, no-frills venue, which resembles a middle school auditorium circa 1970, conjures the true spirit of community, with children playing in the aisles and old-country old-timers pulling out genuine dance moves. Despite all that recommends it, the Cedar remains a shoestring operation—a situation Bruce Cockburn hopes to turn around with this benefit. Expect a sneak preview of the Canadian folksinger and activist’s new album (due this summer) and a rousing battle cry to save an incredible place. 416 Cedar Ave. S., Minneapolis; 612-338-2674; www.thecedar.org

The kora looks a bit like a prize-winning pumpkin speared by a tree branch, but this twenty-one-string gourd sings like a harp or a lute, depending on how it’s coaxed, and its romantic trill underpins the urgent rhythms of traditional Malian music. There’s only one kora player as good as Toumani Diabaté, and that’s his dad, Sidiki Diabaté. (The family’s musical lineage stretches back an awe-inspiring seventy-one generations.) But it’s the younger Toumani who has taken this uniquely African sound to the rest of the world, collaborating with an array of folks, including Blur’s Damon Albarn, the flamenco group Ketama, blues master Taj Mahal, and the late Ali Farka Touré, with whom he won a 2005 Grammy. With his band, the Symmetric Orchestra, the Dakota’s room temperature should climb at least twenty degrees. 1010 Nicollet Ave. S., Minneapolis; 612-332-1010; www.dakotacooks.com

Find out for yourself whether this play, which piqued the ire of Strib columnist Katherine Kersten and conservative bloggers all around town, is worth the fuss. The Pope and the Witch tells the story of a fictional pontiff who, under extenuating circumstances, starts running with a witch doctor who dabbles in abortion and drugs. But beyond the inflammatory synopsis is an acclaimed political satire by Dario Fo, the Nobel Prize-winning Italian playwright who raided the arsenals of commedia dell’arte, puppetry, and clowning in imagining this absurdist softening of the papal dogma. Robert Rosen—Theatre de la Jeune Lune co-founder, French-educated clown, and master of physical theater—directs. University Department of Theater Arts & Dance at Rarig Center, 330 21st Ave. S., Minneapolis; 612-624-2345; www.theater.umn.edu www.theater.umn.edu