Author: idonthaveacoolname

I wanted to see a flamenco show while I was in Madrid and the one I went to was highly rated and close to my hotel. An evening of flamenco in Madrid is an experience that immerses you in the heart and soul of Andalusian culture. As the first notes of the guitar ring out, the air fills with an electric energy, drawing you into the world of passionate rhythms and intense emotion. The setting was cave-like, great for the acoustics. The dancers, with fiery eyes and graceful yet powerful movements, seem to pour everything into every step, the click of their heels echoing like thunder.

In his influential book Painting and Experience in Fifteenth-Century Italy, Michael Baxandall explores how this specific scene of The Annunciation serves as a lens through which to understand broader themes of Renaissance art, including perspective, naturalism, and the relationship between the viewer and the artwork. As someone who grew up with an Annunciation and a Last Supper in the living room, these two compositions form important parts of western visual culture and iconology, in addition to images of Mary as theotokos in the Eastern visual cultures for people like Gorky. 

I have been working on both the prompts and the images for the past several days but here is my Annunciation from Arshile Gorky and Kent Monkman. It took many iteration of both text prompting in my language model and many iteration in midJourney. I won’t bore you with the details but I wanted to blend the style with the symbology or the language that the artist used in their work. The colouring is all from the text to image application. 

In the Gorky I was going for his later bio-organic style and it was the lines and shapes in the top that reminds me of the Dove and the verticality of the “rays of grace” that are found in the western iconography in addition to that wonderful dark triangle that reminds one of the room in the background, another symbol in the western tradition meaning her purity of spirit.

The colours were pure Gorki, greys but with his vibrant use of colour, drawing inspiration from Byzantine mosaics and Armenian manuscripts, which imbue his abstract works with a rich, emotional depth and a connection to his cultural heritage. So many surprises, like the shapes that could be shadows? Wow! 

The Monkman was more difficult but it was the AI image application that was the problem, it always wanted to put the annunciation characters front and centre as it normally does, unlike how Monkman puts characters as much smaller in the overall landscapes. I was amazed at how this image portrays the angel Gabriel as an energetic force of nature (I didn’t prompt that), moving away from the colonialist tendency to anthropomorphize religious figures (again, I didn’t prompt this).  

I also love how the flowers worked themselves into the foreground and I couldn’t get the right background no matter what I did. It kept on giving me Lord of the Rings mountains

Akira Kurosawa’s Dersu Uzala (1975) is a masterful exploration of friendship and the complex interplay between contrasting worldviews. Based on the memoirs of Russian explorer Vladimir Arsenyev, the film beautifully captures the bond between Dersu Uzala, a Goldi hunter, and Arsenyev as they traverse the breathtaking yet unforgiving Siberian wilderness. This relationship unfolds against a backdrop of stunning cinematography, highlighting not only the vastness of nature but also the philosophical inquiries that lie at the heart of Kurosawa’s storytelling. Asakazu Nakai‘s cinematography is, as always, impressive.

At its core, Dersu Uzala illustrates the deep connection between its two protagonists, rooted in respect and mutual understanding. Dersu’s profound relationship with the natural world contrasts sharply with Arsenyev’s more rational, “modern” approach to exploration. This juxtaposition serves as a commentary on the tension between traditional wisdom and contemporary thinking. As the film progresses, the friendship between Dersu and Arsenyev evolves, revealing the richness of their shared experiences and the value of embracing differing perspectives.

The evolving friendship between Dersu and Arsenyev is further illuminated by Kurosawa’s masterful cinematography, which not only captures the breathtaking beauty of the Siberian landscape but also acts as a visual commentary on their contrasting worldviews. As the characters navigate the vastness of their environment, the cinematography reflects their internal journeys, showcasing how Dersu’s intuitive understanding of nature complements Arsenyev’s rational perspective. The interplay between the two men and their surroundings emphasizes the film’s central themes: the difficulties of respecting traditional wisdom while engaging with contemporary thought and technologies. This dynamic relationship is beautifully mirrored in the expansive frames, which invite viewers to ponder the intricate connections between humanity, nature, and the differing philosophies that shape our understanding of the world.

The cinematography of Dersu Uzala plays a vital role in conveying these themes. Shot in 70mm film stock, the film immerses viewers in the grandeur of the Siberian landscape. Kurosawa’s sweeping shots and meticulous framing not only enhance the visual experience but also serve as a metaphor for the philosophical questions the film raises. The vast wilderness mirrors the emotional depth of the characters’ relationship, while the challenges they face together reflect the broader struggles of reconciling different worldviews.

While the cinematography of Dersu Uzala vividly encapsulates the film’s thematic essence, it also serves as a narrative device that deepens our understanding of the characters’ evolution. The visual artistry not only presents the stunning expanse of the Siberian wilderness but also captures the subtleties of the protagonists’ emotional landscapes. As Dersu and Arsenyev traverse this imposing terrain, the camera’s perspective shifts, reflecting their growing bond and mutual respect. This dynamic interplay between the landscape and their journey highlights the fluidity of their relationship, suggesting that navigating the complexities of nature mirrors their quest for harmony between intuition and reason. In this way, Kurosawa not only portrays their struggles but also emphasizes how embracing different worldviews can lead to personal transformation and a richer understanding of one another.

In the scene where the shadow of the tiger looms over Arsenyev’s tent, the film poignantly illustrates the cultural divide that underpins the relationship between Dersu and Arsenyev. Through Arsenyev’s voiceover, he expresses his assumption that Dersu’s claim of seeing the tiger is merely a product of his magic, revealing his skepticism and reliance on rationality. This moment encapsulates the tension between their worldviews: Dersu’s deep-rooted connection to nature and its mysteries stands in stark contrast to Arsenyev’s modern sensibilities. While Dersu’s understanding is grounded in instinct and lived experience, Arsenyev’s perspective struggles to appreciate the unseen forces that govern their environment. The tiger’s shadow serves as a haunting reminder of the unknown and the complexities inherent in the natural world, emphasizing how Dersu’s worldview, though often dismissed, offers valuable insights that challenge the harmonious narrative frequently presented by followers of modernity. Through this visual and narrative juxtaposition, Kurosawa enriches the film’s exploration of friendship amidst the vast, often inscrutable wilderness.

Through stunning visuals and poignant storytelling, Kurosawa invites viewers to contemplate the intricate relationship between humanity and nature. Dersu embodies a worldview that values intuition and instinct, whereas Arsenyev’s perspective is rooted in scientific understanding. Their journey through the wilderness becomes a metaphor for the search for balance between these opposing ideologies. As they confront the challenges of their environment, they learn to appreciate the strengths each brings to their partnership, ultimately revealing the transformative power of friendship.

As the narrative unfolds, Dersu’s departure from the settlement underscores the incompatibility of his traditional worldview with the encroaching forces of modernity. After being arrested for cutting down a tree—an act that symbolizes his deep connection to nature and the resources it provides—Dersu is thrust into a world that no longer understands his way of life. This disconnection is further accentuated by the rifle he receives, a seemingly innocuous gift that ultimately is responsible for his death. The new rifle, with its powerful scope, represents the very modernization that alienates Dersu from his environment; it transforms him from a harmonious participant in nature to a more detached observer. In this way, the tool intended to empower him becomes a catalyst for his demise, reinforcing the film’s poignant message about the fragility of traditional ways of life in the face of progress and the inherent dangers that can arise from losing touch with one’s roots.

In an era increasingly defined by modernity, Dersu Uzala stands as a compelling meditation on the necessity of understanding and honouring diverse perspectives. Kurosawa’s film not only highlights the profound bond between Dersu and Arsenyev but also invites viewers to contemplate their own relationships with nature and one another. The narrative serves as a critical lens through which we examine the tensions inherent in the dichotomy of urban and rural life, reminiscent of the broader European discourse on town versus country and emergent suburbanization in America.

Kurosawa challenges us to reflect on our own place within this landscape of change. Dersu’s journey invites us to consider the implications of progress on personal and communal identities, urging a reevaluation of what it means to coexist harmoniously with both nature and each other. In doing so, Dersu Uzala transcends its historical context, becoming a timeless exploration of the human condition, one that resonates with contemporary struggles against the backdrop of an ever-evolving world.

Wow! I saw Homelands last night at the NAC and I was very impressed with the production. The three dancers on the stage were behind a thin screen that they use to project images of running water and other elements of nature. At one point the dancer on the stage was duplicated 6 or 7 times on the projected screen giving the impression that the dancers were joined by ghosts on the stage. The projected images sometimes occupied the top half of the screen creating a sense of aporia between real and fantasy, presence and hauntings. Very impressive and kudos to the production and dancers!

I saw my first show of the season at the National Arts Centre last night and I was quite impressed! I jump at any opportunity to view the work of Canadian photographer Edward Burtynsky, his work always places me in a state of awe and aporia. His work Natural Order, of all his work, is most profound for me, coming out after the pandemic. In isolation, Burtynsky turned his focus back to the natural landscape, creating a new series that captures the cycle of renewal from winter’s stillness to spring’s vitality, reflecting the complexity, wonder, and resilience of nature, revealing an underlying order amid apparent chaos. Taken in Grey County, Ontario, they also represent a personal journey of finding solace and meaning in nature during uncertain times. Through this selective contemplation, Burtynsky affirmed the enduring strength of the natural world, regardless of humanity’s fate. It was this affirmation that moved me.

UAQUE is a multidisciplinary collaboration between choreographer Andrea Peña & Artists, the National Arts Centre Orchestra (NAC), and Canadian photographer Edward Burtynsky. This piece reflects on the Anthropocene Epoch, exploring humanity’s impact on the planet through dance, music, and striking visuals. Burtynsky’s images are seamlessly woven into the performance, where dancers embody a journey of resilience and vulnerability, set to live music from the NAC Orchestra, conducted by (very funny and talented) Alexander Shelley, and electronic composer Eƨƨe Ran.

Andrea Peña’s choreography stands out for blending dance with industrial design, incorporating contemporary issues into her work. Known for her conceptual approach, she emphasizes a dialogue between the body and space, searching for new choreographic and aesthetic possibilities.

Burtynsky’s photographs, depicting the complex interplay between beauty and environmental crisis, engage in a dynamic conversation with the dancers. Together, they create a ritualistic space where humans and the nonhuman world coexist, inviting reflection on our relationship with the Earth.

Edward Burtynsky’s photography and Andrea Peña’s choreography converge in UAQUE to form an evocative dialogue between the human body and the altered landscapes of the Anthropocene. Burtynsky’s images, with their haunting portrayal of industrialized beauty, serve as more than mere backdrops; they are living elements that interact with Peña’s dancers, who physically embody the discord between humanity’s ingenuity and the planet’s vulnerability. Peña’s choreography amplifies the emotional undercurrent of Burtynsky’s work, transforming still images into kinetic explorations of survival, adaptation, and loss. The dancers move as extensions of the landscapes—alternating between resilience and collapse—mirroring the fragile equilibrium of the Earth itself. In this collaboration, Peña’s innovative use of space and materiality transcends traditional performance, turning the dancers into both inhabitants and architects of a world on the edge, while Burtynsky’s photographs provide a lens through which the audience can witness the consequences of human actions in visceral, moving form. Together, they create a new interdisciplinary language that blurs the boundaries between movement and stillness, art and environmental reckoning.

In Only Murders in the Building Season 4, Episode 3, the series continues to exhibit its distinctive charm as the central trio—Charles, Mabel, and Oliver—grapples with personal dilemmas while investigating the murder of Sazz. The episode prominently features celebrity guest stars Zach Galifianakis, Eva Longoria, and Eugene Levy, who shadow the main characters for a film adaptation of their podcast. This external scrutiny affects the trio’s self-perception: Levy’s portrayal prompts Charles to confront his insecurities, Galifianakis’s critique compels Oliver to confront his quest for validation, and Longoria’s (Mah-bel’s) brash interpretation of Mabel highlights the contrast between her methodical approach and Longoria’s chaotic energy.

The episode is particularly notable for its depiction of Mabel and Longoria’s dynamic. Longoria’s unpredictability injects humor and tension into their interrogation of Rudy, a Christmas-themed gym influencer, while Mabel maintains her methodical approach, ensuring a balanced investigative process. Meanwhile, Oliver’s interactions with Galifianakis reveal deeper aspects of his character, particularly his desire for validation beyond superficial fame.

The always awesome Detective Williams, played by Da’Vine Joy Randolph, delivers a crucial update on the investigation into Sazz’s murder. Her arrival marks a pivotal moment as she informs Charles, Mabel, and Oliver that the Feds have taken over the case, identifying a missing suspect named Jan who has fled to Florida. Williams’ authoritative presence brings a new level of urgency to the investigation, as she reveals that the shooter’s apartment belongs to the retired professor M. Dudenoff, currently in Portugal. Her interaction with the trio highlights her professional demeanor and provides essential clues that drive the narrative forward, emphasizing the escalating stakes and the broader implications of their case.

A significant plot development occurs when Charles, Eugene, and Vince discover a photograph in Vince’s apartment. This image, depicting the Westies alongside an obscured figure holding a pig, prompts speculation about the identity of the masked individual. The obscured face could potentially be Sazz or even Meryl Streep’s Loretta, and the pig may connect to Howard’s pet, suggesting additional layers to the mystery.

The episode integrates personal growth, character development, and crime-solving while maintaining a focus on the core trio’s dynamic, even amidst celebrity appearances. A key narrative twist involves the discovery that the killer may be utilizing a ham radio frequency, which heightens the sense of danger as the investigation progresses.

Charles’s investigation into Vince, or “Pink-Eye,” is enriched by Hitchcockian elements, particularly through the Hitchcock book on Vince’s mantle. This reference to Vertigo—a film that delves into themes of obsession, identity, and impersonation—parallels Charles’s own existential quest and the unsettling potential of being targeted. The allusion to Vertigo not only enhances the episode’s noir atmosphere but also deepens Charles’s introspective journey, adding to the thematic complexity of the series.

The line between reality and fiction becomes intriguingly blurred, suggesting that the entire season might be unfolding as part of the movie being filmed within the show. The twist with Sazz’s apparent demise could echo a Vertigo-like scenario, where her impersonation of Charles mirrors Judy’s deception in the film. Just as Judy impersonated Madeleine Elster in an elaborate murder scheme, Sazz might be enacting a similar ruse. This revelation invites us to question whether the dramatic events are genuine or simply scripted elements designed to enhance the movie’s narrative. Are we witnessing a real tragedy, or is it all part of an elaborate plot, with Sazz’s actions reflecting the haunting manipulations of Vertigo? The show skillfully plays with this ambiguity, making us constantly question what’s real and what’s merely part of the film’s intricate storyline.

The line between reality and fiction becomes intriguingly blurred, suggesting that the entire season might be unfolding as part of the movie being filmed within the show. Could it be that every twist, including Sazz’s apparent demise, is actually a scripted element of the film? This scenario raises intriguing questions about the nature of what we’re watching. Are the dramatic events genuine, or are they all part of an elaborate ruse designed to enhance the movie’s storyline? The show masterfully plays with this ambiguity, making us continually question what’s real and what’s just a part of the film’s narrative.

I am visiting the National Gallery archive in a few weeks with some friends. We are going to see the sole Arshile Gorky at the Gallery—Charred Beloved II—and a few works from Kent Monkman. I have some familiarity with Gorky’s work but Monkman’s work is new to me. The internet to the rescue! I didn’t realize how similar the background themes were for both of these artists regardless of each artists technique or subject matter and want to share some reflections.

Kent Monkman (born 13 November 1965) and Arshile Gorky (born Vostanik Manoug Adoian April 15, 1904 – July 21, 1948), though separated by time, geography, and cultural context, share a profound engagement with themes of identity, displacement, and transformation. Both artists confront the complexities of navigating fluid identities shaped by historical trauma, whether through colonialism or forced exile. Their work reflects the tensions inherent in lives lived between worlds—Indigenous and settler for Monkman, Armenian and American for Gorky—and offers compelling visual narratives of becoming, rather than being.

Monkman, a Cree artist from Canada, uses his alter ego, Miss Chief Eagle Testickle, to explore the fluidity of gender, sexuality, and history. Miss Chief, a two-spirit trickster figure, appears in Monkman’s work to challenge Western depictions of Indigenous peoples, particularly those shaped by colonialism. Through Miss Chief, Monkman reclaims historical narratives that have often erased or misrepresented Indigenous identities. His paintings and installations engage with both contemporary and historical contexts, showing how Indigenous people have continuously negotiated their identities in a world that seeks to confine them to fixed roles. By positioning his work within the framework of Indigenous boundary identities, Monkman highlights a central theme in his art: identity as a constant process of transformation.

In The Talented Mr. Ripley (see my other post on this), Tom Ripley’s constant reinvention of his identity parallels the artistic practices of Kent Monkman and Arshile Gorky. Just as Ripley fluidly morphs his persona to navigate and manipulate his world, Monkman and Gorky use their art to reflect an ever-evolving sense of self. Ripley’s relentless transformation highlights a broader theme shared with these artists: identity as a dynamic, ongoing process rather than a fixed state, illustrating how personal and artistic reinvention serves as a powerful response to external pressures and internal desires.

Vostanik Manoug Adoian, who became Arshile Gorky, was an Armenian-born artist whose flight from the Armenian Genocide and subsequent reinvention as a Russian identity, including claims of working with Wassily Kandinsky, highlights his constant state of becoming. Gorky’s artistic evolution—from European modernism to abstract expressionism—mirrors his personal transformation as a refugee grappling with displacement and identity. His paintings, reflecting trauma and survival, reveal a fragmented self where the tension between his Armenian past and American present plays out, illustrating his ongoing journey of self-reconstruction and adaptation.

Both Monkman and Gorky create works that embody the complexities of identity in flux. For Monkman, this flux is shaped by colonial legacies and Indigenous resilience, while for Gorky, it stems from the trauma of exile and the search for belonging in a new land. Despite their differing contexts, both artists reject the notion of identity as fixed, instead embracing a state of becoming where transformation, adaptation, and resilience are central themes. Their work serves as a testament to the power of art to navigate, reshape, and redefine the boundaries of self in the face of external pressures.

The concept of “boundary identities” reflects the fluid and dynamic nature of identity in contexts of displacement, marginalization, and historical oppression. Rather than adhering to rigid, predefined roles, boundary identities exist in a state of flux—continually transforming in response to external forces. In the work of artists like Kent Monkman and Arshile Gorky, identity is not a static or monolithic experience; instead, it is an ongoing process of negotiation, adaptation, and redefinition. This state of becoming—where identity evolves in response to cultural, historical, and personal challenges—stands in stark contrast to the idea of identity as a stable and fixed state of being.

Monkman’s exploration of boundary identities is grounded in his engagement with Indigenous traditions and colonial histories. His alter ego, Miss Chief Eagle Testickle, blurs boundaries of gender, sexuality, and historical narrative. By positioning Miss Chief within both Indigenous and colonial contexts, Monkman challenges the rigid definitions imposed by settler society on Indigenous peoples. His art suggests that Indigenous identity, far from being fixed or singular, is in constant motion—a process of becoming that involves resilience, resistance, and adaptation to ongoing colonial structures. Through this lens, Monkman reclaims Indigenous histories, presenting identity as something that shifts and grows, resisting the colonizer’s attempts to define it.

Similarly, Gorky’s experience as a refugee profoundly shaped his exploration of boundary identities. Displaced by the Armenian Genocide and navigating life as an outsider in America, Gorky’s sense of self was in constant flux. His work captures this fragmented identity, marked by trauma and exile, where past and present intertwine. Gorky’s integration of elements from Armenian manuscript traditions—such as intricate patterns and vibrant colors—into his evolving modernist style underscores his negotiation between the loss of his homeland and his adopted American identity. This fusion of traditional Armenian visual culture with abstraction and figuration reflects his dynamic process of becoming. Like Monkman, Gorky’s art does not present a fixed identity but rather engages with the ongoing transformation of boundary identities on his canvases.

In both Monkman and Gorky’s work, boundary identities embody an art of becoming rather than being. Their work resists the notion of fixed, singular identities, embracing instead a vision of identity as fluid, evolving, and responsive to the complexities of displacement and historical trauma. By placing these boundary identities at the centre of their artistic practice, both artists underscore the idea that identity is not something one simply is—it is something one continually becomes.

Kent Monkman and Arshile Gorky, while emerging from distinct historical and cultural contexts, converge in their exploration of identity as a fluid and evolving construct shaped by external pressures. Monkman, a Cree artist from Canada, and Gorky, an Armenian refugee in America, both address how their respective experiences with colonialism and displacement influence their artistic representations of self. Despite their different backgrounds, their work illustrates a shared thematic concern: the negotiation of identity in a world that imposes rigid boundaries and definitions.

Monkman’s art navigates the complexities of Indigenous identity under colonial oppression. Through his alter ego, Miss Chief Eagle Testickle, Monkman creates a powerful commentary on the fluidity of gender and historical narratives. Miss Chief’s role in Monkman’s work—often as a trickster figure—serves to challenge and subvert colonial narratives that seek to confine Indigenous identities within fixed categories. For instance, in The Triumph of Mischief (2007), Miss Chief confronts the colonial forces with a mixture of audacity and resilience, reflecting an Indigenous identity that resists simplification and maintains its dynamism despite centuries of oppression. Monkman’s art reveals a constant process of becoming, where Indigenous identity is shaped by ongoing interactions with and resistances against colonial structures.

In contrast, Gorky’s experience of displacement due to the Armenian Genocide and his subsequent forced emigration positioned him in a state of perpetual transformation. His work reflects the trauma and fragmentation of identity that accompanies forced exile. For Gorky, the process of becoming is intimately tied to his experiences of loss and adaptation. In The Artist and His Mother (1926–1942), Gorky channels his memories of Armenia into a fragmented, abstracted form that conveys a sense of identity in flux—caught between the past and present, between the familiar and the foreign. His art illustrates how the refugee experience necessitates a continuous redefinition of self, shaped by the interplay between his Armenian heritage and his American context.

Despite their different contexts—colonialism for Monkman and displacement for Gorky—both artists explore how external pressures shape and redefine identity. Monkman’s portrayal of Indigenous identities as dynamic and resistant parallels Gorky’s representation of identity as fragmented and evolving through the lens of exile. Both artists reject static definitions of self, embracing instead a vision of identity as something that is perpetually in the process of becoming. This shared thematic exploration underscores the universality of their experiences: both are engaged in a continual negotiation of identity in response to the forces that seek to define or constrain it.

Thus, Monkman and Gorky, through their respective contexts, highlight the fluid nature of identity shaped by historical and personal challenges. Their work provides a compelling narrative of becoming—a reminder that identity is not a fixed entity but a dynamic and evolving process, deeply influenced by the contexts of colonialism and displacement.