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  • Blame It On My Wild Heart

    My friend Court hearts Stevie Nicks and sent me this below clip with a note that “…this is one of my faves, watching it I always have this dual elation and sadness.” And now I can’t get the song out of my head.

    ePqn6BDB098
    I find this duality true in many songs that I love, be it Luna, Ghostface or Fleetwood Mac – the tracks often evoke both emotions during a 3 minute spell. I wonder if that’s what nostalgia might be constructed of too?

    Motherwell's Elegy to the Spanish Republic

    Even if authorial intent is one thing, audience interpretation can remix and recontextualize the meaning. One man’s song of joy is another’s sorrow song. It reminds me of painter Robert Motherwell, who once recounted that he “respected a collector who returned one of my “abstract” pictures to the gallery, saying it was too tragic in feeling for her to be able to look at it every day.”

  • Hipsters

    we real cool

    Adbusters claims hipsters to be the Death of Western Civilization. Hyperbole, yes, but also navelgazing BS. Even though they may wear different clothes and sneer across lunch tables, Adbusters and Hipsters are cut from the same cloth. The culturejamming content the mag praises is lauded by the very hipsters they deride.

    We lurk late

    The thesis of the Adbusters argument is as follows: Ever since the end of WW2, Western subcultures have worked to subvert dominant paradigms and their oppression of art/love/race etc. As the power of punk and hip-hop lost their true pluck, the aesthetics of rebellion mashed up to create The Hipster. Alas this Hipster whirlpool is sterile like a mule, unable to create new content/Meaning, zombies subject to trends and adverts. Thus Western Civilization is toast, faced with “a youth subculture that mirrors the doomed shallowness of mainstream society.”

    Some truth there, but the sky aint falling.

    Since we now live in the quickening of an instant era, anything that catches as cool will spread as fire. Unavoidable and certainly leads to repetition in NYC. But if we burn our fort, what does Adbusters truly expect us to do? Go East/3rdWorld and jack ‘culture’? Make the post-colonial claim that foreign lands are so much more authentic/ pure/real? Do something meaningful, be like Bono and um, ‘save’ Africa?

    We jazz june

    Just as ‘Alternative’ music became mainstream rock, “Counterculture” (as evinced by The Hipster) is now folded into mainstream culture. The singular Hipster aesthetic has ossified and is now no different from the uniform of a preppie/jock/hiphopper etc.. But the costume of tight jeans and a Keffiyeh is simply a collection of visual cues that signify membership to a group, just like baggy pants or pearl earrings. So Counterculture aint dead, it just might now be looking different.

    Both the West and The World are currently living in an unprecedented state of remix and creation. There are more tools of authorship, identity and distribution than ever before – and these tools bring forth new sub and countercultures, ones that may have been ignored not only by the mainstream, but also by the dominant counterculture. Possibly even by Adbusters, who close their article with this strangled swan song.

    We are a lost generation, desperately clinging to anything that feels real, but too afraid to become it ourselves. We are a defeated generation, resigned to the hypocrisy of those before us, who once sang songs of rebellion and now sell them back to us. We are the last generation, a culmination of all previous things, destroyed by the vapidity that surrounds us. The hipster represents the end of Western civilization – a culture so detached and disconnected that it has stopped giving birth to anything new.

    Good Heavens. Rather than cueing dirges, I wanna know why Adbusters is looking at the hipster to signify the progress or failure of Western Civ. Makes me think that the mag is well out of touch, lapping at the pool of cool irony and now indistinguishable from those they once tried to bust.

    we die soon?

  • Blankets

    for silence or warmth?

    So after wrapping a shoot last night with Project 2050, I fell into a cab with equipment and furniture blankets. The driver was smoking a cigarette, so I asked if I could have one. He said “So, are you a bum or a filmmaker?” Chalk that up as a brand new question. Turns out the driver Abraham is an actor and knew that midnight blankets + ciggie request = one of the above. Love that.

  • Immigrant Songs via Sundance

    down by the river...

    This week Sony premieres the Sundance 2008 Grand Jury winner Frozen River. Our friend Kevin Pazmino was the 1st AD (as he was on PK’s Predator), so we’re gonna go see it. Give a shout if you wanna come with, we’re buying popcorn.

    afBhYR9-3bE
    Also earlier this year IFC released Sangre de mi Sangre, the 2007 Grand Jury winner, produced by our friend Per Melita.

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    Both films tell a story of ‘illegal’ immigration and were made on shoestring budgets. And so we raise a glass to our friends and their fine fine work in the trenches of NYC indie filmmaking.

    ...padre?

  • Brand JC

    Smiths buried here.

    During a drive down the LaFourche bayou a few days ago, I had the pleasure of seeing a 15-foot statue of JC standing outside of a Vietnamese church, and visiting a small memorial/church that could fit inside my living room. I was reminded that the distinct class of stylish laptop users who visit my local coffee shop is diverse enough to include the leadership of the Vintage Church, who conduct an operations meeting there weekly. Rob, whose style I would describe as Surf, leads the group through the mechanics of the organization’s upcoming needs while Andrew’s laptop seems to be the device responsible for managing data.

    talk to the hand.

    Desedo design peeps wndr, are responsible for the branding of Epic, “a Christ believing community that exists in the real world.” Similarly, it might as well have been between viewings of The Real World in my MTV-aided youth that I learned of the Skate Ministry, which is still kicking by the way; there are even imitators. It looks like You Know Who’s getting a facelift.


    1. jocular Epic collateral here.

  • Top Chef, Williamsburg + Mayonnaise

    Eat In Kitchen

    Word from Gothamist is that the new Top Chef contestants are living in my hood at the McCarren Park Condos. When asked what was filming, a crew member deadpanned “A mayonnaise commercial. Just a mayonnaise commercial.”

    Mayonnaise and Cat Food are the two tried and true classics of film set crowd control. Tell the public that’s what you’re shooting, and they’ll keep on moving – the thinking is that nobody cares about these products. No prom king, sorry.

    That said, while working on set I’ve had odd conversations with passerby about the virtues of condiments and cats. And even as a filmmaker, I am not immune from such chicanery. Last week I walked by a set and paused to ask what’s shooting – in my query using code to convey my insider status – it’s OK, you can tell me what’s really on camera.
    But alas no pass for me, just a stonefaced response: “Hellmann’s Mayonnaise.” I smiled and pushed on.

    no brands for you!

    (Bonus Points go to whichever upstart filmmakers create a meta-text that integrates Top Chef with their Carroll Gardens brethren Real World.)

  • Hanging on the Telephone

    yupyupyupyupyupyup

    Since seeing the Fiest/Sesame Street video, I’ve been moseying down a muppety memory lane. One of my faves were the Yip-Yips – cultural anthropologists from Mars, ever curious about our Earthling ways. Loved them, but often watched them whilst hiding behind the sofa, cause they scared me.

    Z4VNMERVsC4
    So after watching the above clip, I was reminded of a Gallup phone poll in June that had McCain and Obama in a dead heat. While it claims to source from both mobiles and landlines, I’ll wager that far fewer of the cell set partook.

    As a teen I toyed with many surveys that called my parents’ landline, but have never once have had a chance in six years with my 917. And even if Gallup called my mobile, I probably wouldn’t answer their 800/private/unkown number. So while older folks do vote more than us whippersnappers, is it time for pollsters to reconsider what ‘pulse of a nation’ they truly take via telephone?


    Adliterate says hang up