A Review of Harmony Korine’s Book, A Crackup at the Race Riots, Bridging Conventional Critical Practices with Korine’s Fragmented Methodology

condosArticle first published as Book Review: A Crackup at the Race Riots by Harmony Korine on Blogcritics.

1. Photographer Larry Clark is best known for the iconic photobook Tulsa, a document of sex, drugs, and violence among young people in Oklahoma. Clark’s 1971 book was accused of exploiting his young charges, and Clark’s admission that he partied with his subjects runs a fine line between documentary and bad-boy indulgence. It seems a natural that Clark would give Harmony Korine his first shot of notoriety. Korine wrote the screenplay for Clark’s 1995 movie Kids, an expose/possible exploitation of another generation of teenage sex and drugs.

2. A dwarf in a Ku Klux Klan hood has AIDS.

3. Korine has since been a kind of cause célèbre, making difficult and some would say self-indulgent movies under the forgiving auspices of independent cinema. He has notable defenders, most prominent among them being director Werner Herzog. Herzog has appeared in three of Korine’s films, and contributes a blurb to the Drag City reissue of Korine’s episodic novel A Crack-Up at the Race Riots . “I was struck from the very beginning that there is a totally independent and new voice in writing. I believe that [he] is a great talent as a writer.”

4. Hand-written notes on celebrities and their muffs reproduced in facsimile evoking the DIY essence of the fanzine as well as its self-indulgence.

5. The writer-director’s latest film Spring Breakers, makes a play for mainstream acceptance but is still very much of a piece with his bad boy sensibilities. The publicity machine made big news out of the fact that he cast a pair or former teen stars (Selena Gomez and Vanessa Hudgens) along with his wife in an exploitative look at the annual bacchanal, which Korine both revels and despises.

6. Incestuous suicide note, one of a series of eleven with space for the reader’s signature.

7. So now seems a good time for Drag City to revisit Korine’s 1998 book. The fragmented format and edgy attitude of Korine’s “novel” owes a lot to Kathy Acker’s form-busting fiction . But however you may feel about Acker’s work. it seems to spring from a personal, tortured vision. Crackup seems like the indulgent notes of a wunderkind who thinks that every one of his utterances is worth preserving for posterity. It’s not.

8. That said, I liked Spring Breakers.

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Photobook/App review: The Afronauts, by Cristina De Middel

Article first published as Photobook/App Review: The Afronauts by Cristina DeMiddel on Blogcritics.

How many photography apps come with a spoiler alert? Ubicuo Studio, who produced an app based on Cristina De Middel’s limited edition photo book The Afronauts, gave me the option of learning the app’s secrets right away or exploring it for myself. Much as the photographs explore its subject matter in a novel and personal way, exploring the app on your own gives the consumer a chance to make their own discoveries.

Courtesy of Ubicuo Studios
Courtesy of Ubicuo Studios

The Afronauts is famous in the photobook world, so I envy those coming to the app from outside the field. Cristina DeMiddel’s self-published photobook was on a lot of best of 2012 lists. But good luck finding a copy. The modest tome book sold out months after its release. In a photobook market that is already insane, its rise from a $40 artist’s book to a thousand dollar (and up) collectible is legendary, and as DeMiddel told me in an interview for Lay Flat, the attention has been daunting.

DeMiddel can’t afford a copy of her own book at this point. Interest in The Afronauts has skyrocketed much like the dreams of the Zambian Space program that inspired the project. What made the print edition stand out besides its unusual subject matter was its mixture of photography and ephemera, assembled in a lovingly designed object.

De Middel cut her teeth as a photojournalist, and was intrigued by the way that images can reveal an audience’s prejudices. She created images of an African space program knowing full well the subject is potentially loaded. DeMiddel explains, “One of my intentions with The Afronauts was to raise awareness of how we consume the image of Africa that is given in the media, and how a whole continent has been stigmatized. This uncomfortable reaction and prejudice belongs to the viewer as it is not literally included in the images.”

This uncomfortable reaction is more provocative that it’s provoked by such a charming guise. The Other is dressed up in what appear to be hand-made space suits embellished in what we imagine are tribal designs. DeMiddel’s photos and invented ephemera work against the kind of images we have come to expect from Africa.

The material is fascinating any way you present it. But, in print form, The Afronauts raised the bar on what great design can do for a photobook. It was more than the sum of its parts, and the same is true for the app. DeMiddel wanted to make the material available in a new and affordable form, and designer Maria Cerezo had some fun with it. The app is set up as a game that requires the consumer to do a little exploration on their own before they can get at the images inside. The images themselves are laid out in a way that respects the book’s layout, but have the added app-behavior of an iPad’s finger gestures. You can pinch and expand the images in a way that you cannot do with the book. I have never handled the Afronauts book, but from images and video, the photo reproduction of the app seems to take advantage of the display resolution to present a much different tonal experience. The app images are processed with a higher contrast than the more subdued tones of the book, which had the look of a softly aged artifact. The app is a thing of the future present, a bright and shiny dream. Buy it here – only 99c until April 20, when the price goes up to $5.99.

DVD Review: Bigfoot: The Lost Coast Tapes

still-of-frank-ashmore-and-drew-rausch-in-bigfoot--the-lost-coast-tapes
(XLrator Media)

A helpful pre-credit scrawl indentifies the Lost Coast area of Northern California as a hotbed of reported Sasquatch activity. You would think a quasi-documentary about the culture of Bigfoot hunters and doubters would be a watchable B movie. But why is it that Bigfoot movies are so bad? Bigfoot: The Lost Coast Tapes is the second feature-length straight-to-video found footage release in less than a year to tackle what should be ripe material. It has a leg up on Bigfoot County (read my BC review here) in visual quality. While Bigfoot County was filmed on what looks like commercial grade digital video, Bigfoot: The Lost Coast Tapes, also shot on digital video, has better production values in a field where that is a low bar. Unfortunately, the recent Bigfoot found footage quasi-docs have one more thing in common: obnoxious lead characters.

Sean and Darryl (Drew Rausch and Rich McDonald) are young Los Angeles residents with a plan to document evidence of the existence of Bigfoot. The movie opens as Darryl is walking out of a bank with a fresh $75,000 loan to make his Bigfoot dreams come true.

This opening already poses questions most Bigfoot movies don’t ask. They may not be questions the filmmakers had in mind. Sean and Darryl are clearly the privileged class, who qualify for a substantial loan for a frivolous end: a proposed reality TV show, as if we needed another one.  Is there a class divide in Bigfoot culture? The movie does try to have fun with the horror movie tropes of the Stupid White Kids. Sean tries to recruit African-American colleagues to work on his video shoot, but they refuse: “Look at us: we’re light skinned, we aren’t white, we don’t go camping, we don’t roast marshmallows, and we sure aren’t going to chase Bigfoot through the forest!”

The frat boy reality TV wannabes seek out a mountain man who claims to own a Bigfoot corpse. Another similarity is the use of an older character actor to play the young investigators’ forest guide. Frank Ashmore, whose credits go back to the Airplane movies and 1970s TV, plays this role in Carl Drybeck. Ashmore has more of a presence than the young charges he leads through the woods, but his character is even less developed than that of his counterpart in Bigfoot County. If the script had given him decent Bigfoot stories to tell by the campfire, Ashmore might have told them with aplomb. But he is not the kind of gifted actor who can get a convincing dramatic reading out of the phone book, and the script, by Brian Kelsey, Bryan O’Cain in their only screenwriting credit, is barely more interesting than that.

In a modern world that clamors for meaning, there is apparently enough clamor to produce Bigfoot movies on a regular basis. If only the quality control for Sasquatchian cinema was as hardy as the myth.

Music Review: George Jones, The Complete United Artists Solo Singles

Article first published as Music Review: George Jones – The Complete United Artists Solo Singles on Blogcritics.

Hard living and harder drinking are the time worn clichés of the old school country singer, and one of the hardest drinking lights in the country music firmament is George Jones. His nicknames have been variations on self-loathing: the diminutive Possum, the self-fulfilling No-Show Jones, the persona of Deedoodle Duck. Jones channeled self-hatred in his moniker, on the surface a cuddly mascot, but one holding depths of pain and remorse.

The opening chapter of Bob Allen’s biography of the country singer reads like a Jim Thompson novel, a spiraling rage that turns inward until even the bottle fails him. Jones’ signature anthem, 1979’s “He stopped loving her today,” is more popular on the funeral circuit than on country music radio. Its story of a man whose love ended only because he died was selected for the National Recorded Sound Registry, and while it’s countrypolitan strings, courtesy of producer Billy Sherrill, threaten to overwhelm the song in syrup, Jones’s relies not on pyrotechnics but phrasing to sing his sad song to heaven.

Jones’ stature as a singer is complicated by the label-jumping he’s made throughout his career. Omnivore does justice to one of the formative stages of Jones’ output with The Complete United Artists Solo Singles. The material, spanning from 1962 to 1966 is not consistent. For every classic like the opening, “She thinks I still care,” and “The race is on,” there’s an uninspired gospel number like “He’s so good to me.”

A handful of tracks are more curiosities than classics. The set includes several Christmas novelties like “My Mom and Santa Claus,” a variation on “I Saw Mommy Kissing Santa Claus that replaces a peck with the twist. Even more unusual is the B-side “Geronimo,” a tie-in to a Chuck Connors movie. Songwriter Johnny Western wrote the song in a couple of days after Jones’s manager-producer Pappy Daily mentioned that the singer loved the TV show “Have Gun Will Travel.”

But then the chaff falls away and the wheat sustains in a ballad like “I saw me.” When you hear Jones’s mature phrasing convey deep founts of pain and self-doubt, you remember that this is one of the great vocal interpreters. If you throw some Billy Sherrill strings on “Lonely Christmas call, from 1966, you could be listening to something from the classic 1970s era.

The Jones catalog can still be a hit and miss adventure for the uninitiated, and even an essential survey like Anniversary: 10 Years of Hits passes over great album tracks like One Woman Man’s “The King is Gone.” Complete UA Singles is less definitive than that Columbia era collection, but any fan of the singer will have to own both.

TV Review: DC Cupcakes: County Fair

The auction (Courtesy of TLC)

Article first published as TV Review: DC Cupcakes: County Fair on Blogcritics.

Critical ethics requires that I declare my bias before proceeding. I am a Washington native who has walked by the block-long lines at Georgetown Cupcakes and on more than one occasion directed would-be patrons to superior cupcake shops in walking distance (read: any other bakery in Georgetown).

Baked and Wired has been making pastries on Thomas Jefferson street since 2001. Their dense, generous cupcakes are my favorite in town, and if that much cakey goodness is too much for you, have a hand pie instead. Baked and Wired is just a five minute walk from the belles of the cupcake ball.

Sprinkles, which claims to have been the originator of the modern cupcake craze, opened their Georgetown store a stone’s throw from Baked and Wired a few years ago. They’re a solid second in the neighborhood cupcake wars. The most popular are my least favorite.

Which leaves us with Georgetown Cupcakes, who make tiny, cloying baubles whose popularity confounds me. I’ve always wondered what it is about their TLC reality show that draws so many people to their doors. I just watched DC Cupcakes for the first time, and I am still at a loss.

Sisters Sophie and Katherine quit high-paying jobs in finance and fashion to chase their dream of making cupcakes. It sounds like a good old fashioned American success story, but this is no rags-to-riches tale. TLC presents Georgetown Cupcakes as a small business done good, but forgive me if I’m not that compelled to follow entrepreneurs who can afford to rent space in Washington’s tony Georgetown district. This is not a classic American dream but the dream of Americans with the luxury to leave a cushy job to capitalize on a trend.

It would be one thing if the sisters were appealing, but as far as reality show likability factor is concerned, Sophie and Katherine, with a vapid factor off the charts, barely out perform Honey Boo Boo and family in personality.

Sure, conceptually it sounds like a no-brainer, in a good way. Imagine businesswoman sisters competing in a hay-bale throwing contest at a county fair. It could be the kind of fish out of water story that fuels a hundred sitcom episodes. But to paraphrase Sophie, “OMG!” it’s just painfully annoying.

This year DC Cupcakes have a special Valentine’s program on TLC: County Fair. There are two threads of Americana which lure in the sisters’ cupcake craft: the sisters are charged with creating a giant pig out of one thousand cupcakes for the Loudon County Fair; and with developing a historically inspired cupcake for an event in Colonial Williamsburg.

Spending an hour in either venue would make for a passable hour of fluffy semi-documentary television. Unfortunately, the presence of the sisters’ grating personality and questionable culinary design ideas (Daisy Duke jean shorts on a cupcake pig) ruins it. Their emphasis on fondant is a bad sign of a focus on looks over taste. Which is why theirs are the worst cupcake in Georgetown. Is the nation so starved for celebrity and sugar that they wait in Communist-length cupcake lines to pay homage to such scions of vanity? If only Werner Herzog would train his eye on Georgetown Cupcakes and frame the sisters’ fondant-frosted business as a losing battle against nature and true Americana.

Premieres Thursday, February 14 at 7 PM (ET/PT) on TLC

Photobook review: Photo Journalism (Getty Images), edited by Nick Yapp and Amanda Hopkinson

Article first published as Book Review: Photo Journalism (Getty Images), Edited by Nick Yapp and Amanda Hopkinson on Blogcritics.

This week’s big news story for pop culture aficionados was the appearance of a newly verified photo of legendary bluesman Robert Johnson. The image is only the third verified photo of this elusive figure, who as the story goes sold his soul to the devil in exchange for the talent that made him a musical icon. If anybody’s name should lead that headline it should be Johnson’s. But at least one photo industry report led not with the image’s subject, but with a name that has become, for better or worse, synonymous with images – and image licensing: Getty.

Verification controversy aside, Getty Images is one of the main providers of digital images. Not any specific kind of images, but simply images, and the breadth that such generality suggests is daunting. It means pictures from the latest Hollywood product to stock images as mundane as an artfully prepared double bacon cheeseburger, but also editorial images which over the years have defined the news.

We live in a conflicted age of image making. On the one hand, more images than ever are experienced in bits and bytes, on a computer screen or a smartphone. On the other, we live in a golden age of the photo book, where more and more excellent monographs are presented in ways that further not only the art of photography but the art of the book. Into this environment walks a massive 800-page tome. 

Photo Journalism (Getty Images), edited by Nick Yapp and Amanda Hopkinson for h.f. ullman , is arranged chronologically and by themes like Revolutions, Entertainment, the Third Reich and the Role of Women. From the arrival of the Mona Lisa at the Louvre, to the appalling images that came out of Abu Ghraib; from Billie Holiday to Amy Winehouse, Getty has it. This doorstopper of a photo book samples nearly two centuries of newsmakers as featured in the vast coffers of Getty Images. 

The book has the kind of structure useful in a reference book. But even though I am a voracious consumer of images and photo books, Photo Journalism feels dry and somehow unsurprising. The publishers tried to squeeze too many images into crowded layouts. Given the format, which isn’t as massive, as, say, Taschen’s excellent London: Portrait of a City, it would have been better to use fewer images in layouts that allowed those images to dominate a page spread. The book seems tailored to an internet attention-span, but is too unwieldy to comfortably explore the way one can effortlessly browse a web site.

I wish there had been some way to tackle the collection with more serendipity -an app that pulls up a random image for the viewer would be a way to be continually surprised by the breadth of this collection. The determined photography lover will certainly find arresting images in Photo Journalism, but more than likely the clunky format will send them looking for a better presentation of the image — online.

Photobook Review: Wolfgang Tillmans. Neue Welt

Courtesy of Taschen
Courtesy of Taschen

Article first published as Book Review: Neue Welt by Wolfgang Tillmans on Blogcritics.

A picture is worth a thousand words,  so the old saying goes, but words can say something too. The title of Wolfgang Tillmans’ new monograph, his fourth book for Taschen, doesn’t say enough. Neither do the pictures.

Wolfgang Tillmans. Neue Welt  (New Work) is a seemingly generic title. A long interview with Tillmans by Beatrix Ruf coaxes meaning from these brief syllables, finding resonance with a 1928 monograph by Albert Renger-Patzsch, The World is Beautiful. Tillmans expounds at length about digital versus analog photography and simply regards the digital camera as a different tool, the higher resolution a reflection of the higher resolution of a highly stimulated world. But his summation of this phase in his career could be said by any other photographer: he’s “trying out what the camera can do for me, what I can do for it.”

The images selected for Neue Welt reflect a wide subject range but little depth. Portraits from exotic lands, Family of Man-style images of humanity, are juxtaposed with cold details of cars, sinister banality a la John Gossage, and intermittent abstractions. Color blocks and starlit night skies seem to set up a concept that this New Work encompasses everything. What does it all add up to? The scope of Tillman’s work is ordinary but brings all these images no matter the subject into the same continuum, as if he is channeling all the different schools of the history of photography.

It’s an admirable concept but also unfocused. Neue Welt suggests new eyes, the eyes of a human being trying to take in all manner of stimulus and creating order and sense and meaning out of it. But while I am a fan of the banal school of photography placing these images in context with human faces does not elevate the banality so much as bring down the humanity to a banal level – it’s just another image, whether it’s in Tasmania or London.

Tillmans has recently presented his images in galleries as unframed prints hung flat from gallery walls. Perhaps this is a commentary on the way art consumers expect to have art framed and contextualized, but it’s also comes off as lazy. Tillmans is clearly a hard working, globe trotting image maker, and that his New Work seems lazy could be a reflection on his aesthetic or on the over stimulated world that he embraces and critiques.