Awards Season Nonsense

Golden Globe Hosts Tina Fey and Amy Pohler

I don't know if it's age-induced cynicism, bitterness or just an increasing awareness about what's really important in life, but I have come to loathe the entertainment Awards Season and the shows which present said awards.

It honestly seems ridiculous to me to offer up awards for any art form, especially since art is so very subjective. I may love a film; TV show; play; musical; painting; song; album; composition;  sculpture or installation that you absolutely detest. Or vice-versa. You might find something uproariously funny while I find it repulsively disgusting. I may be moved to tears by a poem or novel, while you simply shrug your shoulders and say "Huh?" No one else I know is as fascinated by Dali's "The Discovery of America by Christopher Columbus" as I am. And that's as it should be. Art (and one's response to it) may be one of the few truly individual things we have.

Here's a very personal example: Dear D's favorite actor is Sylvester Stallone and his favorite movie of all-time is Rocky. I have no favorite actor (really, how can one?) and my favorite film of all-time is Bringing Up Baby. If I did have a 'favorite actor,' I can assure you it wouldn't be Stallone. That doesn't mean Stallone hasn't been in some highly entertaining films. It also doesn't mean that every film he's been in, has been bad. Or even that the bad film's in which he's appeared weren't entertaining. Demolition Man is by no means be 'high art,' but I was amused and entertained by it (though, unlike D, I don't have 3 seashells in my bathroom - no matter how hilarious I may find it). 

Awarding folks for their achievements is hardly new. And while I wouldn't be opposed to winning an award of any kind, I imagine that winning a Nobel or Pulitzer or even an Olympic medal would mean much more to me than a Golden Globe, Critics' Choice or Academy Award. While awards shows may be just as entertaining to some folks as great art is to others, to me they are just ego-inflating parties thrown by and for rich people who have nothing better to do than pat one another on the back.

Oh, and for famous LGBT people to publicly come out (via):

Sorry for the bad audio. It's what they had.

More. anon.
Prospero

Ouch! (Not for the Squeamish)

Q, don't look!

My dear, sweet Q has issues with eye problems. Our mutual friends and I are always on the lookout for movies where people's eyes are gouged out, stabbed or otherwise injured, so we can warn her in advance. As far as I know, eye injuries are the only thing about which she is squeamish. Which is why I am so glad she didn't get a good look at Uncle P's right eye, last night.

Sometime during last night's rehearsal for Die Mommie Die!, something got into my eye and trapped under my contact lens, causing a rather nasty abrasion to my cornea. I drove home with K, tears and snot pouring down my face, feeling as though pins were being jabbed into the upper part of my eye the entire way. By the time I dropped her off, I just wanted to get home and remove my contacts. By the time I got home, my eye looked about ten times worse than the picture above and it was all I could to pry it open and take out my lenses. I rinsed with saline, applied a cold compress and repeated until I went to bed. Which also explains why I didn't post last night. I was just in too much pain.

I awoke this morning to a slightly less swollen, though totally crusted shut (gross, I know) eye. I washed it with warm water, followed by another cold compress, called the day job to say I'd be late and went back to bed for another two hours. 

Thankfully, eyes heal rather quickly. The pain has gone and the swelling is substantially reduced, though it still feels a bit "goocky." I wore my glasses to work today, prompting several co-workers to ask "Are those new?" I'll probably wear them again tomorrow, just in case. 

Now that I have grossed all of you out, I'll ask, "And how was your day?"

More, anon.
Prospero

...But I Know What I Like.

I've always been a fan of guerrilla art. Nothing destructive, of course. Good guerrilla art should be not only provocative, but actually display some talent. I came across this image on the blog LOLGod, which is basically an atheist humor blog that often borders on brilliant.

I can't help but think Darwin would love this piece which appears to be by an artist with whom I am not familiar, KreiBel (a German artist whose work can be viewed here) very much in the style of the elusive British art prankster Bansky. And before you stop reading, no I am not going on another rant about religion and all the terrible things that come from it - there's plenty of evidence for that in the daily headlines (and throughout all of recorded history, for that matter).

No, tonight I am going to talk about art.

Pretentious? No. Good art is never pretentious. Pretentious art is, by definition, bad art. That's not to say all bad art is pretentious. There is plenty of earnest and well-intentioned bad art out there, in all of its forms. And even that has its own merits. But truly good art has to be an honest expression of the artist's intentions, even though those intentions may be interpreted differently by each person who views it. Good art resonates with many people; on many different levels, for many different reasons and in many different ways, but it resonates, none the less. Any and all responses to art are valid, despite one's education or previous exposure to the medium. As the old line goes, "I don't know much about art, but I know what I like."

Art usually holds value to only two people: the artist and the viewer who responds to it. You and I may like the same film, but for different reasons, while any given viewer's response may differ wildly from the artist's intentions. As a director, I often tell actors "There is no 'right' way, but there is most definitely a wrong way, and even the least sophisticated audience member can smell BS a mile away."

I have dozens (if not hundreds) of favorite artists, working in almost any medium you can think of: Painters; sculptors; writers; actors; designers; musicians; singers; composers; directors... the lists go on. If forced to choose a favorite artits, in the way in which most people interpret the word, it would have to be Salvador Dali, the Spanish painter/sculptor/filmmaker who in the late 19th and early 20th centuries, redefined 'art' for his generation. My favorite Dali piece usually resides in the Salvador Dali Museum in St. Petersburg, Florida. It is The Discovery of America by Christopher Columbus.

The painting features a beatific Columbus, Dali's wife as the Virgin Mary and more crosses than I have ever been able to actually count. It is a massive work, easily 15' tall by 10' wide (or more) and speaks to me in a way no other painting, sculpture, film, novel or play ever has - and I have absolutely no idea why. I can spend hours lost in the painting, discovering some new extraordinary detail with each and every viewing. Dali was known for painting in a trance, transposing his trance dreams onto the canvas. I try to do that in my own writing, with limited success, though more than one of screenplays has been born out of a dream.

So, what's the point of this post? I'm not exactly sure, except to maybe remind all of you to find art that inspires you. It can be anything from Neolithic cave paintings, Egyptian hieroglyphs or the Sistine Chapel to "Huckleberry Finn," The Nutcracker or Star Wars. It can even be in an amazing rainbow:

Remember: Art Can't Hurt You.

More, anon.
Prospero