November 21, 2016 Look No Work Today By Dan Piepenbring “No Work Today,” an exhibition of paintings, drawings, and sculptures by the Dutch artist Parra, is on display at Joshua Liner Gallery through December 17. Parra is, to my knowledge, the only professional artist who has also been a professional skateboarder. Parra, No Work Today, 2016, acrylic on canvas, 55″ x 39″. Read More
November 21, 2016 Our Correspondents Theater 101 By Alison Kinney On civility, risk, and the demonization of dissent. Maxime Dethomas, set design sketch for Les abeilles, 1917. I’m using this fifth installment of my opera column to offer a primer on theater, protest, and safety, by people who actually know about theater. As you’ve likely heard, at the November 18 evening performance of the musical Hamilton, Mike Pence was booed (and also cheered) by members of the audience. After the show, the cast assembled onstage to address him with a statement written by Lin-Manuel Miranda and read by the performer Brandon Victor Dixon. He said, in part, “We, sir, we are the diverse America who are alarmed and anxious that your new administration will not protect us, our planet, our children, our parents, or defend us and uphold our inalienable rights, sir. But we truly hope that this show has inspired you to uphold our American values and to work on behalf of all of us.” Donald Trump tweeted his reactions, writing in one message, “The Theater must always be a safe and special place. The cast of Hamilton was very rude last night to a very good man, Mike Pence. Apologize!” #BoycottHamilton trended on Twitter on Saturday. We witnessed the absurd spectacle of an incoming administration that threatens every kind of safety for marginalized people, yet demands an antiharassment safe space. Of one elected leader’s turning his back on a diverse group of Americans politely requesting protection and dialogue, and another’s attacking them. Although these Hamilton tweets are possibly a ploy by Trump to distract attention from the Trump University settlement, his reaction to the Hamilton incident is important: it’s about weaponizing the discourse of civility and respectability against the people who stand to lose the most in the next four years. I asked for responses from playwrights, performers, directors, and scholars who belong to artistic and academic communities that are all endangered by the Trump presidency. Here are their answers, in alphabetical order by first name, with their own descriptors. Read More
November 21, 2016 On the Shelf Impersonating Trump in China, and Other News By Dan Piepenbring In China, Tang Xinhua, a retired music professor, is preparing for a new career as a Trump impersonator. Photo: Zou Dangrong, via the New York Times. You know times are hard when you find yourself looking forward to reading the nominees for the Bad Sex in Fiction Award. Maybe their heinousness will be the ultimate distraction from Trump—in the same way that you can divert your attention from a headache by punching yourself in the arm repeatedly, forcefully. Here’s some bad sex from Tom Connolly’s Men Like Air: “The walkway to the terminal was all carpet, no oxygen. Dilly bundled Finn into the first restroom on offer, locked the cubicle door and pulled at his leather belt. ‘You’re beautiful,’ she told him, going down on to her haunches and unzipping him. He watched her passport rise gradually out of the back pocket of her jeans in time with the rhythmic bobbing of her buttocks as she sucked him. He arched over her back and took hold of the passport before it landed on the pimpled floor. Despite the immediate circumstances, human nature obliged him to take a look at her passport photo.” Impersonation is a hot ticket in China—with practice, chutzpah, and a little bit of luck, you can make a good living pretending to be a famous politician. (And they say America is the land of opportunity.) So now a national search is on for an ersatz Donald Trump, a swaggering caricature who can really channel that bigoted je ne sais quoi. Zou Dangrong, who runs an agency of impersonators in Beijing, believes he’s found the perfect ringer: a retired music professor named Tang Xinhua. But can they get his skin to look orange enough? “The goal is to get Mr. Tang looking enough like Mr. Trump that he can impersonate the president-elect and entertain at lucrative company debuts, shopping mall openings and New Year’s galas … It is all good, clean fun with high artistic standards, [Mr. Zou] said … ‘The hair color can easily be changed with dye jobs—temporary color, not permanent, keeping it in for an hour or two,’ [Mr. Zou] said. ‘We’ve asked tailors to make the same clothes that Trump wore in his campaign, though maybe from less expensive material.’ ” Read More
November 18, 2016 This Week’s Reading What Our Contributors Are Reading This Month By The Paris Review In place of our staff picks this week, we’ve asked five contributors from our Fall issue to write about what they’re reading. From Dispatches. Alexander Kluge, the German writer-philosopher-filmmaker, was in town last month, and his visit prompted me to pick up Dispatches from Moments of Calm, a collaboration with the artist Gerhard Richter. It’s a book of short stories, essays, and parables, each about the length of a newspaper article, many paired with photographs. Indeed, that was how they first appeared, in Die Welt on October 12, 2012, on a day when the editors traded their thirty pages of news for whatever Kluge and Richter would give them. The resulting dispatches are various. There is a story about a five-year-old boy who just misses striking his head on the pool ladder when he leaps into the water, just misses concussion, and drowning, and never knows it; a story about a couple that sets up their projectors outdoors, after the Lebanese Civil War has reduced their theater to rubble, and shows movies with sound tracks that mix with the sound of battle; a story about the Italian waiters who died on the Titanic and the fiancées they left behind in the Abruzzi, whom local custom forbids seeking husbands in an adjacent town. There are meditations on cities and photographs and species extinction and survival. When I read it, I didn’t foresee my present traumatic relation to the newspapers, and today is no moment of calm. But Kluge’s mosaic doesn’t feel like a refuge so much as a reminder of the real world, the whole real world, surprisingly connected to itself, as full of thought as of accident, all of it worth living in, and worth (though Kluge is patient and irenical) a fight. —Jeff Dolven (“The Art of Poetry No. 101: J. H. Prynne”) I’ve been reading Weapons of Math Destruction: How Big Data Increases Inequality and Threatens Democracy by Cathy O’Neil. The recent election is just the latest example of how our algorithm-driven media world—from faulty polling to fake news on social media—has become a threat to democracy. But O’Neil, a former hedge-fund quant turned Occupy activist, shows how pervasive and powerful and ultimately unaccountable misused data is across our lives. The book is not math heavy, but written in an exceedingly accessible, almost literary style; her fascinating case studies of WMDs—ranging from teacher evaluations to fast-food-staff scheduling to crime prediction to global-financial crises—fit neatly into the genre of dystopian literature. There’s a little Philip K. Dick, a little Orwell, a little Kafka in her portrait of powerful bureaucracies ceding control of the most intimate decisions of our lives to hyper-empowered computer models riddled with all of our unresolved, atavistic human biases. It’s a little terrifying to read her accounts of the human costs of Big Data improperly deployed—jobs lost, lives damaged, insurance denied, opportunities foreclosed—but also frightening to see how deeply our society has already invested in this pseudoscience, what she calls “digital phrenology.” Seemingly abstract and benign mathematical models might be the powerful tool ever for reifying and exacerbating existing structures of inequality—but there’s some power in knowing how to spot a WMD and defuse it before it explodes. And it turns out they’re everywhere. —Chris Jackson (“The Art of Poetry No. 100: Ishmael Reed”) Read More
November 18, 2016 On Music Gotham Lullaby By Adam Shatz Meredith Monk at the National Sawdust Theatre. Photo: Julieta Cervantes Maybe it’s a post–11/9 condition, a porousness to emotion, but whatever it is (or isn’t), Meredith Monk, who performed last night at the National Sawdust Theatre in Williamsburg, spoke to me as no other performer has in a while. By the simplest of means: made-up words (from the Monkian lexicon) and a handful of minor chords at the piano. I guess this is what the critics mean when they talk about the “transfiguration of the commonplace.” She faced us at audience level, on a stage barely larger than a living room. “I think we’re all in need of lullabies now,” she said as she sat at the piano, and played her “Gotham Lullaby” from Dolmen Music: her cries, hesitations, and pauses nearly brought me to tears. I was not alone. Read More
November 18, 2016 Our Correspondents At Sea By Merritt Tierce On the defunct language of nautical flags. Willem van de Velde II, Sea Flight, mid-1800s–early 1900s, pen and brush and brown and gray ink, 7″ x 11 1/8″. There are forty flags in a complete set of international maritime signal flags—one for each letter of the English alphabet, one for each number, and four flags called substitutes, which perform special operations. The flags are a way of raising a meaning to the eye, at a binoculared distance, and while most vessels still carry a set on board, the flags themselves—unfurled, unraised—now mainly signify that we are seafaring in the time of radio and digital and satellite and do not need to communicate so slowly or primitively, via material squares of color. To a ship’s crew, I imagine they signify something like what a drop-down oxygen mask signifies to the commercial air traveler: if you think about it, all you realize is you don’t want to think either about the situation in which you’d have to use it or exactly how unable it would be to fully remedy that situation. The ships carry the flags in case they lose all other means of communication, but what set of circumstances could cause that kind of outage and also be cured by flying some flimsy flapping message? Read More