Staunch characters — S-T-A-U-N-C-H. That description applies to Grey Gardens devotees, who’ve found their unwavering dedication and commitment rewarded with a new Albert Maysles movie about the Edith Bouvier Beales. Still, another look at the original 1975 Grey Gardens will probably always be the best way to honor and commune with Big Edie and Little Edie — if ever a classic rewarded repeat viewings, it’s this one. All the Maysles brothers (Albert and the now-deceased David) had to do was bring the film. What they saw was amazing: Little Edie racing toward the camera — that final, perfect gentleman caller — in her best costume for the day; food and animals gathering around Big Edie’s throne room; a deep “sea of green” (Little Edie’s words) on the estate threatening to block out an ocean of blue. At one point Little Edie says she is “pulverized” by new things, but she doesn’t have to say that she’s buried alive by old ones. A single shot late in the movie turns a banister into her prison bars so effectively that Douglas Sirk would be jealous.
In recent years, Capturing the Friedmans and especially Tarnation have ventured into the same family-gone-wild domesticity as Grey Gardens, but neither comes close to matching its direct bravery or complex humanistic profundity. Today, as Drew Barrymore and others come a-calling with rip-off projects, the lesson that film and Broadway actors and producers should’ve learned from the Edies is right there in the lyrics of one of Big Edie’s favorite songs. Don’t throw bouquets at them, let them throw bouquets at you. That’s exactly what Little Edie — dressed in a Jackie O red ensemble (worn backward, of course) — literally did to the audience at the film’s premiere, and it’s what she and her mother metaphorically do to everyone who watches any minute of the movie, which immortalizes their one-of-a-kind offhand wit and poetry. When Little Edie heard that someone wanted to make a movie about her starring Julie Christie, she plunged deep into playing the role of her life — with acute, revelatory self-consciousness — for the Maysles brothers. When will Hollywood learn? (Johnny Ray Huston)
Volumes
The clarifications
› paulr@sfbg.com
Doctrines of infallibility are for popes and neocons, and need I say more? The rest of us lowly humans must make do with the doctrine of fallibility, a splendid coat of many colors. If you screw up in the kitchen, you add some mustard or vinegar — pancake makeup for defaced or deformed dishes — and hope for the best. Or phone out for emergency pizza. If you screw up in print … well, there it is, as the tin-eared Emperor Joseph was wont to say in Amadeus. Errata have a way of accumuutf8g, like spatters on a chef’s apron, until finally a laundering is in order. Herewith a selection of my own recent spatters. [Editor’s note: Also missed by Paul’s hysterical-anorexic editor, Marke B.]
In my recent piece about Alamo Square Seafood Grill (“Sea Rations,” 11/1/06), I wrongly dismissed trout as a responsible choice of fish. True, it is a farmed carnivore, but according to the endlessly useful Seafood Watch program of the Monterey Bay Aquarium (www.mbayaq.org/cr/seafoodwatch.asp), trout is rated in the “best” category. It efficiently converts feed into protein and is farmed in an enviro-friendly way.
In my piece about the Michelin guide’s recent Northern California edition (Without Reservations, 10/11/06), I implied that the Michelin guide uses half stars. I do not know where I got this idea; perhaps there was confusion with other star-giving entities that do deal in half rations. Michelin gives full stars only — or not, as the case may be. Also, while there was considerable distress here as to the NorCal guide’s emphases and omissions, it is worth reminding ourselves that we are probably not Michelin’s principal audience; the green guides are largely for visiting French and other Europeans, so a skewing toward French restaurants with a certain formality of service shouldn’t surprise us.
Most puzzling is my persistent delusion that Belden Place is either “Lane” or “Alley.” In my recent piece on Café Claude (“Charm Latitudes,” 10/11/06 — again!), I stumbled into “Lane.” I also said that it is paved with bricks, because my memory insists that it is, but on a recent flyby I noticed only asphalt, though it is possible there are brick facades or perhaps bricks hugging the earth as foundations. I am relieved not to have described it as “cobblestoned,” which I might have done in the past, though I hope not. Cobblestones would be nice.
Microsoft Linux
› annalee@techsploitation.com
TECHSPLOITATION I’m living in a bizarro business deal universe. Microsoft and Novell, which distributes a version of Suse Linux, have formed a partnership. When Microsoft’s notoriously anti-Linux CEO Steve Ballmer announced the deal, he claimed it was because customers demanded it. But the open-source community is worried something else may be afoot.
PC Magazine columnist John Dvorak speculated last week that Microsoft was trying to do an end run around free software licensing, essentially breaking the GNU General Public License (GPL) via legal loopholes. Then Linux Journal’s Nicholas Petreley, speaking for a lot of disgruntled open sourcers, urged Linux users to migrate away from all Novell Suse products over the next five years.
It’s easy to understand why open-source and free-software advocates are up in arms. Members of these communities have worked for decades to build robust, free alternatives to proprietary, big-business software products. And Linux, one of the most successful free operating systems available, has openly challenged Microsoft’s hegemony in countless ways.
Linux isn’t just a good technological alternative to Windows. It’s a symbol. This upstart, community-built operating system creates choice in a market where big players dominate. Plus, everything about Linux is transparent, open, and customizable. You can do whatever you want to your Linux operating system — rewrite the code, turn it into another piece of software, copy it a zillion times for your family and friends.
There’s only one rule: don’t break the GPL. So if you turn Linux into something else, that something else must also be licensed under the GPL.
Now that Microsoft and Novell are shacking up together at a joint research center, it feels like we’re only a few months away from a Microsoft Linux distribution. In fact, Microsoft has said it will officially recommend Novell Suse Linux. Could Microsoft actually undermine the legal foundation of the GPL and create a form of Linux that cannot be modified or copied freely?
The answer is yes and no.
Electronic Frontier Foundation attorney Jason Schultz says the deal doesn’t threaten the legal status of the GPL. But he speculates that the products Microsoft and Novell have discussed creating — such as a software package containing interoperable versions of Windows and Novell Suse Linux — could make it very difficult for consumers to modify Novell Linux without also running into problems with Windows.
“This hybrid product could intermingle its Linux and Microsoft parts so that it could be hard to copy the open portions,” he says.
Schultz also points out something crucial about this deal: it’s less a legal threat to Linux than it is a publicity threat. Microsoft’s move is savvy marketing. The more it can confuse customers about what Linux is by attaching Windows products to it, the less name recognition Linux will have on its own. And the less people will understand what free software and open source really mean.
Ballmer has been blabbing to anyone who will listen that he’d love to cut similar deals with other Linux distributors, like Red Hat. No matter what the legal implications of this deal turn out to be, it’s definitely a weird new stage in Microsoft’s fear, uncertainty, and doubt war with Linux.
I think Microsoft is trying to muddy the waters just enough that consumers will stop recognizing the fundamental divide between Windows and Linux.
We’ve seen this problem in the free-software community before, though in a far less insidious form. When the phrase “open source” began gaining currency in the late 1990s, people often confused it with “free software” because many open-source projects are literally free (like free beer). But there are dozens of open-source licenses, many of which permit people to create proprietary software out of the open software.
As more people used open-source software, the popular media and public began to conflate free software and open source — much to free-software inventor Richard Stallman’s dismay. I worry that this Microsoft-Novell deal has the potential to do the same thing to open-source software.
The more Microsoft can absorb Linux, the fewer people will recognize the challenge Linux represents. Linux isn’t just an alternative set of software tools. It’s another mode of production — one that’s more transparent and more sensitive to the public good. That’s something we can’t afford to lose. SFBG
Annalee Newitz is a surly media nerd who thinks that if Microsoft makes a software shim, Linux developers should make a software shiv and stick those bastards right in the gut.
Ooga-booga
› andrea@altsexcolumn.com
Dear Andrea:
I wish I hadn’t read your column about cervical penetration. I am thoroughly disgusted, disturbed, even angry. It’s been my understanding that body modification is a red flag of imbalance, poor sense of self, and ignorance about anatomy and physiology. Do you think I’m justified in being disturbed that people are going around messing with irreplaceable tissue and getting off on their own pain? Throughout history we have tested our physical limits through sports, battle, fasting, etc. I can understand the desire to be liberated from our fear of pain by initiating it ourselves. It seems like a misunderstanding, however, to think that in our search for spiritual enlightenment, we will transcend the physical by destroying it. I’m hoping you can explain so I can stop feeling horrified.
Love,
Puzzled by Perversion
Dear Perv:
There are ways to indulge that are probably harmless, and there is stupidity (you ought to know better) and compulsion (you do know better but can’t help yourself). Since the young lady had a desire that could not be pursued without causing herself injury, I gently steered her toward what I hoped would function as a harmless alternative. What I did not do was presume to know her motivations or assume that she was broken just because she wanted something I thought was ill-advised.
We should make a distinction between body modification — generally understood to mean piercing, tattooing, maybe some scarring, and the occasional loony tunes full-body job like that guy on the Discovery Channel who looks like a big doofy cartoon cat — and S-M. The pain usually but not always inflicted or received in pursuit of the latter may look like a mere ouchy sensation but can feel like anything from a massage to a form of worship, depending on who’s doing what to whom. You can’t tell just by looking, and certainly not if you use preconceived notions of what damaged people they are, doing such damaging things.
Body mod is usually done to, well, modify the body. You may think it’s dumb — hell, sometimes I think it’s dumb — but you don’t know what motivated the pierced or tattooed person to mark themselves. Your Anthro 101 explanation actually supports my argument more than yours: “throughout history humans have tested our physical limits,” indeed, by poking sticks through our noses, hacking bits off our genitals, and rubbing dirt into holes in our faces. While I’ll grant that the people who invented these practices knew little of anatomy and physiology, I’ll wager that they were neither unbalanced nor lacking a sense of self. They were (as our modern practitioners often still are) both seeking to set themselves apart from the other tribes (them) and be instantly identifiable to their own (us). This was more useful and important when the “them” tribes were wont to hit you with a rock and then eat you, but it’s still an essential human urge, and decorating ourselves is a pretty harmless if occasionally silly way to express it. Does that help?
Love,
Andrea
Dear Andrea:
I’m in a long-distance relationship and having serious sexual frustration. I can’t bring myself to masturbate more than once a month. I dream about masturbating but can’t bring myself to actually do it. I feel dirty and wrong, and during my big one monthly moment I find the only place I’m comfortable is the bathtub. Is there something wrong with me? I was never like this before.
Love,
Frustrated
Dear Frust:
Masturbation, which for a long time appeared in popular culture mostly as joke fodder and the object of many undignified gerundial nicknames of the “choking,” “draining,” and “clubbing” variety, has been undergoing an image upgrade of late, in some circles anyway, often finding itself exalted as a holy experience or at least revered as therapeutic and educational. I’m down with respecting it — masturbation is useful, and you can learn a lot — but I’m never too big on the sacred. Nothing’s sacred if everything can be made fun of, and everything can be made fun of.
All that said (and it was a lot), it seems to me that you’re putting way too much pressure on one humble little act, imbuing it with too much meaning. If you used to masturbate regularly but not excessively and without guilt and that has suddenly changed, poor little masturbation is surely standing in for something else. I’d be tempted to suggest that you are depressed or developing an anxiety disorder. A change in attitude that dramatic about something that quotidian and harmless cannot mean anything good. If attempting to desensitize yourself by simply doing it more (and, we hope, thinking about it less) doesn’t work, I’d get some short-term therapy, not because it’s crazy not to want to masturbate (it most certainly is not) but because it’s dysfunctional to punish yourself harshly for wanting to. Plus, come on, only OK in the bathtub? How Freudian can you get? That’s like suddenly manifesting a fear of snakes or dreaming of trains going into tunnels. Something’s up.
Love,
Andrea
The new sunshine “problem”
EDITORIAL Matt Dorsey, who handles press for City Attorney Dennis Herrera, stopped by last week to talk to us about the barrage of public records requests that are coming in from one activist, Kimo Crossman, who is demanding so many records and so much information from so many departments that it’s costing the city big money.
The problem, Dorsey says, is a lot of the records that people like Crossman request (particularly if they have metadata, or hidden computerized information, embedded in them) have to be reviewed by a lawyer before they’re released to determine if any of the internal information might contain something confidential. The city typically accounts for its legal work at about $200 an hour — and already, Herrera’s office has spent hundreds of hours scouring records just to satisfy one aggressive gadfly whose sunshine activism is, we have to agree, sometimes rather scattershot. That’s a hefty taxpayer bill.
Dorsey’s done more for promoting open government than anyone who has ever worked for the Office of the San Francisco City Attorney, so we don’t dismiss his concerns. And we’ve said before and we’ll say again that the Sunshine Task Force needs to take up this issue, hold hearings, and make some policy recommendations.
Still, we had the same response we typically do when public records are at issue:
Why all the effort? Why the fuss? Just release the stuff. Give Crossman what he wants, and that will be the end of it.
Dorsey’s response: state law and state bar requirements mandate that attorneys, including municipal attorneys, carefully monitor all documents that might contain metadata and “at every peril to himself or herself” prevent any potentially confidential material from accidental release. “The lawyers in our office risk real penalties if they don’t carefully review every one of these requests, and that takes a lot of time,” Dorsey told us.
Well, if that’s a problem, the city and the state need to address it right now. Metadata is increasingly becoming part of government activities and will increasingly be part of public records requests by community activists. And there’s no reason that city employees, including city lawyers, should have to fear retribution if they make a good-faith effort to release information to the public.
Under state and local law everything the city government does is presumed to be public, unless it falls under one of a set of very narrowly defined exemptions.
But in San Francisco there’s been a culture of secrecy at City Hall that goes so far back and is so deeply inbred it’s hard to remove it from the political DNA. All sorts of deals are done behind closed doors. It’s considered perfectly acceptable to promise vendors bidding on public contracts that they can keep basic financial data secret. Every city official seems to think that every request needs legal review.
It’s ridiculous — and the supervisors, the mayor, and the city attorney should take some basic steps to end it.
For starters, the supervisors should pass a clear policy statement that says no city employee shall face any disciplinary action of any sort stemming from a good-faith effort to release information to the public. Herrera should tell his lawyers the same thing: nobody gets in trouble for handing out information.
Yes, there are sensitive documents, particularly in the City Attorney’s Office — but overall, the risk to the city of a mistaken release of confidential information is far, far lower than the risk (and the cost) of continuing this deep culture of confidentiality.
If that creates a problem with the state bar, Assemblymember Mark Leno should introduce a bill that eliminates any penalties or consequences for public agency lawyers who, in good faith, allow the release of public information that may unintentionally include confidential material.
Meanwhile, Crossman has a good idea: why not create a publicly accessible database that gets automatic copies of every document created at City Hall (unless there’s a damn good reason to mark it secret)? That way the busiest of the advocates can spend their time searching the files on their own, and the lawyers can go back to fighting Pacific Gas and Electric Co. SFBG
EDITOR’S NOTES
› tredmond@sfbg.com
I started getting all the usual calls last week, from all of the usual national media outlets, with all the usual questions that a local political reporter gets when a local politician makes good. “Who is Nancy Pelosi, really? What do her constituents think of her? Is she going to bring Burning Man and gay marriage to Washington?”
My answer to everyone, from the liberals to the conservatives, was exactly the same:
Relax. There’s nothing to get excited about. Pelosi is by no means a San Francisco liberal. She’s a Washington insider, a born and bred politician who cares more about power and money than she does about any particular ideology.
I’m glad the Democrats are in charge, and Pelosi deserves tremendous credit for making that happen. But she’s not about to push any kind of ambitious left-wing political or cultural agenda.
Just look at her record. Pelosi was weak on the war and late in opposing it. She was the author of the bill that gave that well-known pauper George Lucas the lucrative contract to build a commercial office building in a national park. She worked with Republicans such as Don Fisher of the Gap on the Presidio privatization and set a precedent for the National Park System that the most rabid antigovernment conservatives can love.
Just this week Bloomberg News reported that Pelosi is working with Silicon Valley venture capital firms to weaken the post-Enron Sarbanes-Oxley law, which mandates strict accounting procedures for publicly held corporations.
And just a couple of weeks before the election, she told 60 Minutes that same-sex marriage is “not an issue that we’re fighting about here.”
I think it’s pretty safe to say she’s never been to Burning Man.
Pelosi, who is backing antiwar but also anti-abortion Pennsylvania Rep. John Murtha for majority leader, has an agenda for her first 100 hours. It’s nice moderate stuff — raising the minimum wage (to all of $7.25 an hour), lowering interest on student loans (but not replacing loans with grants), and allowing Medicare to negotiate for lower-priced drugs (but not making Medicare a national health insurance program for every American). Tactically, it’s brilliant: there won’t be a lot of national opposition, and Bush will look like a heel if he vetoes the bills.
In fact, as a political strategist and tactician, Pelosi has proven brilliant. She’s whipped together a dysfunctional party and led the most important electoral change to this country in more than a decade.
Along the way, though, she’s pretty much stopped representing San Francisco. On issue after issue, her constituents are way to the left of her. This fall she didn’t even bother to show up in the district (except to extract money for Democratic congressional campaigns around the country). She spent election night in Washington.
There are a lot of people who think that’s fine. Now that she’s speaker, she’ll be able to do a lot for this city, particularly when it comes to bringing in federal money. I appreciate the fact that her work on the national level, which often involved running away from San Francisco, will allow more-progressive Democrats like Los Angeles’s Maxine Waters to chair powerful committees that can go after White House cronyism and corruption.
But if the right-wing talk show hosts are worried about San Francisco liberals like me, they can take it easy: Nancy Pelosi is not one of us. SFBG
No more surveillance cameras
OPINION In July last year, San Francisco began installing video surveillance cameras to monitor the public streets. What quietly started as a pilot program with two cameras in the Western Addition has quickly expanded, with more than 30 cameras throughout the city. The Mayor’s Office is seeking to install 22 more cameras at a number of locations, including heavily trafficked areas such as the 16th Street and Mission and 24th Street and Mission intersections.
On Nov. 15 the Police Commission will decide whether to approve the installation of additional cameras. It should reject the mayor’s proposal and send a strong message that scarce public safety dollars should be spent on less intrusive and more effective programs such as increased foot patrols, improved lighting, and community policing.
While surveillance cameras may seem like an intuitive solution to the serious problem of violent crime, in reality cameras pose significant threats to civil liberties while providing few public safety benefits. Study after study demonstrates that video surveillance does not reduce violent crime in cities.
In Britain, for example, where there is one camera for every 13 people and the average person is photographed more than 300 times a day, a recent comprehensive review of 13 jurisdictions showed that cameras do not reduce crime or fear of crime. A University of Cincinnati study found that cameras in its city merely shifted crime beyond the cameras’ view. As Cincinnati police captain Kimberly Frey mentioned in one recent news report, “We’ve never really gotten anything useful from them…. We’ve never had a successful prosecution…. We’re trying to use … money for other things.”
With limited public safety dollars, cameras deprive more effective programs of funds that would significantly reduce crime. Studies show that improved lighting can reduce crime 20 percent, and increased foot patrols have also been shown to significantly impact crime, including violent offenses.
Moreover, the ever-increasing expansion of surveillance cameras poses a significant threat to our privacy. The prospect of 24-hour surveillance of innocent San Franciscans — with video accessible to city officials and the public under state open-records laws — is chilling in and of itself. If the trend continues, cameras installed today may be paired with other new developments, such as facial recognition and Radio Frequency Identification technology, giving law enforcement the ability to develop dossiers about our personal lives.
While San Francisco has some regulations governing camera use, those regulations have already changed and may change again, due to an overreaching political response to crime concerns. To see San Francisco’s future, one need only look to the inspiration for the program — Chicago. There, Mayor Richard M. Daley recently announced a plan that by 2016 would put a camera on almost every street corner in the city.
In light of the significant privacy and free speech implications and limited public safety benefit, the Police Commission should decisively reject further camera placement and strongly urge the mayor and Board of Supervisors to pursue effective programs. San Franciscans deserve more than symbolic measures like video surveillance cameras in response to very real crime problems. Scarce public resources should not be spent on ineffective Big Brother surveillance programs. SFBG
Mark Schlosberg and Nicole A. Ozer
Mark Schlosberg is police practices policy director, and Nicole A. Ozer is technology and civil liberties policy director, respectively, for the American Civil Liberties Union of Northern California.
Goldies Music winner Deerhoof
It’s hard to picture a band as wild, mild, and Apple O’–pie sweet as Deerhoof causing a ruckus — yet they really have. Just picture the humidly frantic, hopped-up, and happy sold-out scene last year at the release show for Runners Four (5RC) at the Great American Music Hall. Or the national CMJ college radio chart assault by that same brave, increasingly addictive album, notable for the way it brings the voices of Deerhoof’s crack instrumentalists — drummer Greg Saunier, guitarist John Dieterich, and bassist Chris Cohen — to the fore along with vocalist-guitarist Satomi Matsuzaki. Or the thousands at recent Flaming Lips and Radiohead shows bopping in place (or scratching their heads in bewilderment) at the opening group. Or the way the unassuming combo has of increasingly popping up on film (the forthcoming Dedication), on other artists’ albums (backing Danielson on 2006’s Ships), and even at elementary school (inspiring a ballet this year at North Haven Community School in Maine).
Now if only Deerhoof could cause a stir making political music or protest songs. “That’s the one thing I wish we could do that I think is very hard to do,” says Saunier on the phone from the Tenderloin apartment he shares with Matsuzaki before they leave to tour with the Fiery Furnaces. “I’m not sure we’ll ever be able to do it, but I think it’s a very interesting thing that bands or artists can grapple with — is it possible to do music that specifically makes some kind of political statement? That’s sort of an eternal question. It’s hard to find a way to sing an angry song about something bad that doesn’t start to kind of need that something bad to exist.”
Angry music is a challenge for a band that’s as optimistic to its fruity core as Deerhoof. (Or else call them Madhoof?) The group began life in April 1994 as Rob Fisk’s solo bass spin-off project from Nitre Pit, a goth metal quartet that the 7 Year Rabbit Cycle founder shared with Saunier. It has since evolved, eight albums along, from a rudimentary noise improv duo into a cuddly-cute but deeply idiosyncratic and utterly distinctive unit that seems intent on beating out a new rock ’n’ roll language: part singsong child jazz, part cockeyed quirk pop, part J-pop dance moves, and part exhilarating and life-affirming anthems to stinky food, universally appealing pandas, combustible fruit, and toothsome cartoon critters. Deerhoof are making rock ’n’ roll relevant again — and maybe even sexy in a noncliché, edible way — for punk nerds, jazz codgers, and baby-voiced girls who make their own clothes. Though Deerhoof’s is an expansive tent.
“Something that is particularly cool about them is how generous they are with their time and talent and increasing popularity,” Xiu Xiu’s Jamie Stewart said of Deerhoof in 2003. “I have never heard them utter a snooty remark about other bands that are new and not well-known…. If they think that a band that is unknown but has a cool demo can possibly perk the ears of any record people they know, they send it on without asking for favors.”
Matsuzaki joined in 1995, guitarist Dieterich and keyboardist Kelly Goode in 1999, guitarist-bassist Cohen in 2002. Fisk, Goode, and Cohen have since departed, but Deerhoof’s compact herd has occasionally enlarged to include such players as Blevin Blechdom, Steve Gigante (Tiny Bird Mouths), Chris Cooper (Fat Worm Error), Arrington (Old Time Relijun), Joe Preston (the Melvins), and Satomi’s dog in Japan, Brut. The members have busied themselves during their increasingly rare spare time with side endeavors such as Retrievers, Gorge Trio, Natural Dreamers, and Nervous Cop.
Now down to the lean Reveille-era lineup of Saunier, Matsuzaki, and Dieterich, the band sounds as fiery and fulsome as ever, reworking the Runners Four compositions to fit the three like a soccer jersey. And a dozen years on, Saunier is excited about the new paths the group has yet to pound. “I still think that there’s a lot that’s never even been tried in this universe with just guitar, bass, and voice,” he says. “I still feel like almost a total beginner.” (Kimberly Chun)
Goldies Music winner Om
Possibly the heaviest band to ever receive a Goldie from the Guardian, Om consists of drummer Chris Hakius and bass player Al Cisneros, who met in high school in the ’80s and have been playing on-and-off together ever since. Along with guitarist Matt Pike, Hakius and Cisneros formed the landmark ’90s stoner doom–Sabbath worship metal band Sleep, which you better know all about by now.
A couple years ago, after a fairly long hiatus from playing music, Hakius and Cisneros began working together again. The pair eventually named their project Om, as an outlet for the things, good and bad, that drive them. Working within the parameters of a single bass and drum setup, with alternately creepy and prayerful space-chant vocals, Om makes music that’s as loud as all hell, repetitive to the point of inducing meditation, and tough to categorize. The first, most obvious genre it’d be nice to cram the band into would have to be doom metal, but without most of the aesthetic trappings of metal — guitar leads, screaming, lyrical negativity — Om doesn’t fall easily into it.
“The songs are sonic reports of where we’re at,” Cisneros told me over the phone. “The work is an exteriorization of our thoughts and perspectives. There is movement, and nothing is fixed in time. Being open to the inflow when it visits is principally the process of songwriting for us. Instruments are the bridges over which the expressions may be carried. All the instruments: drums, bass, voice, mind, heart, soul, spirit, and the physical organism of the human body.”
Huh? Heavy-duty ideas, but that’s the thing that has always set Om apart. When the band first appeared in 2004 with Variations on a Theme, listeners didn’t exactly know how to react. There are plenty of bands messing with the idea of creating a separate reality through heavy repetition and slo-mo tempos, but few attack their work with the single-mindedness of Om. The bass lines change gradually over the course of 20-minute pieces. There are no explosive guitar solos or major tempo shifts. Om’s two albums have only three lengthy songs each, and their lyrics are eternally inscrutable, vibing inner peace or at least the search for inner peace amid chaos.
Om’s new album, A Conference of Birds, is slightly more accessible than Variations in that the songs are a little more dynamic. Instead of two main changes in each, there are several, and they follow a more traditional structure, even if it remains veiled. “Birds introduces the idea of subtlety to Om,” explains John Whitson, who put both Om records out on his Holy Mountain label. “And while it is a departure from the first album, it’s better.” When asked about how the band fits into the musical landscape today, Whitson replied, “They’re like those cave paintings discovered at Chauvet in France, considered the very first ever made. They’ve always been here — the music has always been here.
“Om is just picking note patterns out of the universe and playing them really fucking loud.” (Mike McGuirk)
Goldies Music winner Traxamillion
When I met Traxamillion, the young producer-rapper was in the lab with Balance, recording a faithful cover of EPMD’s “You’re a Customer” for a Mind Motion mixtape. Naturally, I would have preferred seeing Trax record an original, but watching him vibe to a classic was perhaps more revelatory. Where many producers insist on their isolation from outside influences, Trax is an unapologetic lover of music.
“Everybody’s a fan,” the musician, born in East Orange, NJ, and raised in San Jose, points out. “Somebody inspired somebody to make a beat, to rap. That’s how I go about my beats. I listen to shit. I get inspired. I appreciate it and harness and learn from it. I’ve always tried to mimic what’s going on, on the radio.”
Despite this unpretentious attitude toward his art, Traxamillion has developed a highly original sound of his own — bright, downright cheerful noises animate his eminently danceable grooves — and he’s already earned a place in Bay Area rap history. In June 2005 he topped the local rap charts as producer of Keak Da Sneak’s infectious independent single “Super Hyphy” (Rah), proving the Yay could hang in the mix with big-label megastars while opening up the airwaves to a long-suppressed flood of local talent.
“The beat was inspired by the youngstas,” Traxamillion says. “My little cousins came through drunk, wildin’ out on a birthday, and started dancin’. I was paying attention to their movements, thinking, ‘I gotta make some music for these cats,’ because the youngstas are really the hyphy movement. When I was making the beat, I was replaying their dancin’ in my head, and ‘Super Hyphy’ came out an hour and a half later.”
Knowing he had a hit on his hands, Trax shot the beat at Keak, who reportedly wrote the song in one session during a drive home from Tahoe. Within a few weeks “Super Hyphy” was all over the radio.
“It took two months to get to number one [on KMEL’s list of most requested tracks in June 2005],” Trax recalls. “But it was fresh, and Keak’s so abstract when he comes with something — people are fiendin’ for it. People loved it, and it still slaps to this day. It’s a big club anthem in the Bay.”
“It was weird because it was my first time on the radio, period, as a producer,” Trax says. “I was, like, ‘Man, this is crazy — all these people are going crazy to my song. This is my shit I made in my mother’s bedroom.’ I be at the club, watching everybody at the peak of the song when they would run it back like three or four times, going, ‘God-damn!’ Nobody knew it was me.”
If Traxamillion’s name wasn’t ringing bells, “Super Hyphy” was, and in short order he was working with the Team, whose “Just Go” earned the producer further spins. But when he returned to the local number one slot on KMEL’s most requested tracks in December 2005, producing “Getz Ya Grown Man On” for East Palo Alto’s then-unknown Dem Hoodstarz, Trax proved his success with Keak was no fluke. The remix — with guests Mistah FAB, San Quinn, Clyde Carson, and Turf Talk — has even picked up national airplay and features prominently on Dem Hoodstarz’s Band-Aide and Scoot (SMC) as well as Trax’s own The Slapp Addict (Slapp Addict). “The Slapp Addict is the soundtrack to the hyphy movement,” Trax says of the album. Its single-producer, multirapper format has earned it a reputation as a Bay Area Chronic. “It’s basically a Who’s Who of the Bay, produced by me. After ‘Grown Man,’ I was superhot. People were, like, ‘I want to work with you.’ In turn, everybody did songs for me, ’cause game recognize game. Damn near a year’s worth of creativity went into that album.”
In addition to spawning singles like “The Sideshow” (Too Short and FAB) and “Wakin’ ’Em Up” (Turf Talk and Hoodstarz), Slapp Addict has spun off another huge hit collaboration with Keak. “On Citas” demonstrates the producer’s special rapport with the Bay’s hottest rapper.
“When me and Keak get together, we make hits,” Trax says. “When I first met Keak, he told me, ‘Man, your beats and my voice — it’s a marriage.’ Ain’t nothin’ I’m doin’ or nothin’ he doin’ — it’s just his shit plus my shit equals hits.” (Garrett Caples)
Goldies Visual Art winner Chris Duncan
Artist Chris Duncan came to Northern California for the Tahoe powder — and to get away from his routine in Delaware and his native New Jersey of catching hardcore shows every weekend and doing absolutely nothing else with his life. Duncan recalls he and a friend “snowboarded for a season, and it was rad and it was horrible at the same time. Every night it was the same party with the same 40 guys and three girls, so I started to stay in and draw.”
Since then, that need to draw a line between the fun but perhaps meaningless life of nightly parties and his own creative urges has led Duncan to San Francisco, where he moved in 1996 and spent the next years working, skateboarding, and attending California College of the Arts, where he began to find direction, to chart his own personal map to the color theory of Mark Rothko and Josef Albers, and to dip into sacred geometry, string theory, Eastern philosophies, and increasingly, simple nonfigurative forms. In his current work temporal strings converge, intersect, and radiate above needle-nose pyramids, shooting off across ceilings and traversing rooms. Flat works are stitched with ragged stars or painted with dark rays that explode above kaleidoscopic ziggurats.
“For me, it’s about dealing with being fully overwhelmed by humans, to be perfectly honest,” confesses Duncan, 32, kicking back in his tidy wood box of an Oakland studio, off the downtown-area railroad tracks. Dressed head to toe in black, tattoos crawling up his neck and down his arms to hands that jerk to punctuate a point, the artist is far from slick, but he exudes an amiable earnestness raving about his young daughter, Aya-mea Mourning. “I’m also completely amazed by people. People are fantastic and can do such great things. Look how far we’ve come — and the mirror image of that is look at what we’ve done.”
What has Duncan done? Perhaps he’s captured the zeitgeist, one that’s both physical and ethereal, give or take a planet. His SF gallerist Gregory Lind says, “Chris Duncan’s laboriously rendered works on paper and his intricate string sculptures seek to combine the spiritual with the scientific, which is compelling to me in this kind of dark period we find ourselves in today.”
Whether the artist’s pieces trace strings of energy or ecstatic explosions in some acid-laced map room, he’s found a way to tap some sort of fuel source for his numerous projects, including his striking grab bag of an art zine, Hot and Cold, in which he and Griffin McPartland showcase artists like Matt O’Brien, Chris Pew, and Jen Smith. They took a page from their own periodical to produce a catalog for Yerba Buena Center for the Arts’ 2005 exhibit “The Zine UnBound: Kults, Werewolves and Sarcastic Hippies.” Duncan has also curated exhibits as part of Keepsake Society, a site he maintains with ex-girlfriend Aki Raymer, and he is editing an anthology of “my first punk show” stories for AK Press.
“When I got older and found art making, I found a spot to do the things I saw happening as a teenager, with what all my friends were doing,” he says. “I began making zines and started curating, and in terms of how active and how DIY everything was in that [East Coast hardcore] scene, I found a place to put that to use when I got a little older. And this is the perfect city for that — there are so many examples of people doing it. It’s a nice blanket to be under.”
And speaking of blankets: Duncan will be stitching together a cosmic ray–embellished quilt of sorts in memory of his recently deceased 99-year-old great-grandmother for his forthcoming show at Jeff Bailey Gallery in New York City. Much like a handmade, toy- and goodie-bundled, affordable and accessible limited-edition art zine, the project embodies an aesthetic Duncan embraces. “We just totally outdo the last thing we did and totally overwhelm people. Things don’t exist like that anymore,” explains the artist. “Everything’s so not made by hand and so not giving in a way. I think with a little energy you can give a lot, and I think that’s really important.” (Kimberly Chun)
Goldies Visual Art winner Yoon Lee
A good photograph captures an instant of life within a fraction of city space. The oft-awesome paintings of Yoon Lee — on display earlier this year in a solo show at the Luggage Store — condense seconds, days, and weeks of urban life into images of striking movement and color. Blurs from passing cars; a person glimpsed from the corner of one’s eye; the liquid shifts of Vampire Princess Miyu anime dreamscapes on a TV screen — these are a few of the everyday materials within Lee’s alchemy. Glimpsed as scaled-down versions on a computer screen, her pieces seem purely digital or neo-geo, but in person there is no doubt that her paintings are the result of a lengthy, meditative, and labor-intensive process.
“I know some artists who take a whole year to produce one piece, and I’m not up to that point,” Lee says over hot drinks at Farley’s on Potrero Hill. Her comic strip T-shirt and black leather motorcycle jacket reflect the mix of commercial color and rougher, real-life currents within her paintings. “My 8-feet-by-20-feet scale works usually take about six months. I start gathering images in my head and take photos. I make little sketches. I take things from comic books, newspapers, anything — I’m just an image scavenger.”
From there, Lee uses Illustrator or Photoshop to play with images and forms. “I use it as a mixing board to bring everything together and then edit, real fast,” she says, adding with a laugh, “in the old days you had to use canary paper and transparencies, then mess up and start all over again.” Actually, Lee’s “real fast” edits can last a month or two, but they are indeed quick in comparison to her painting process, a complex, kinetic, and at times astonishingly layered use of Golden acrylics. It’s there that she transmutes her gadget-fiend tendencies and love of shiny plastics into work that swirls with fierce ambivalence about those aspects of modern life and more.
For Lee, the frustration that comes from trying to translate computer compositions into flesh-and-blood paintings isn’t just worthwhile — it’s exactly what she’s seeking. “Sometimes I have to really invent a new process,” she says. “Every time I do a piece there’s something completely different I have to introduce or change so I can produce an effect that’s similar to the original sketch.” That kind of challenge has led Lee through many areas of study (philosophy and computer science, to name two) and fields of employment (she’s sold cars), though all the while she’s never lost focus on painting.
Someday a writer might explore and explain why op art has played such a major role in San Francisco art at the end of the 20th century and beginning of the 21st. Though Lee is part of an upcoming exhibition of San Francisco artists in Leipzig, Germany, curated by “Pierogi” Joe Amrhein, it’s debatable whether she is even influenced by the legacy of Sol LeWitt — or has a kinship with the LeWitt-loving Mission School artists who favor certain rainbow gradations. If her work shares some of their color schemes, its scale and sense of movement explode into a realm apart from the smaller cubic formations and prisms associated with recent Bay Area art. A casual viewer might note as much action as in a Jackson Pollock painting, a kid on the street might recognize an accidental kinship with graffiti. The artist herself names Julie Mehretu and Benjamin Edwards as partial guides.
Lee’s art is slick — but only in a literal sense. To put it another, more paradoxical way, her paintings are deceptively slick on the surface. Beneath the attractive gloss, that shininess that she enjoys and wants to share, are layers that you can get lost in — that is, when you aren’t arrested by the intensity of her observation. (Johnny Ray Huston)
Goldies Visual Art winner Tim Sullivan
In his most recent San Francisco exhibition, at the cozy Little Tree Gallery in the Mission, Tim Sullivan managed to reanimate the late blond bombshell Jayne Mansfield. Mind you, he did it with a low-tech visual effect — a full-color glossy of the actress attached to a flat-screen monitor, a shifting blue sky visible through little almond-shaped slits in the eyes of the photograph. But the mixture of sublime pop (the elaborate media construct of Mansfield) with an almost metaphysical art reference is a key movement in Sullivan’s appealing photography, video, and sculpture. His work is an enticing combination of funky but effective tricks, sophisticated references, and an appreciation of comedic white-trash aesthetics.
Sullivan’s work often contains gracious nods to other artists. He’s made a hilariously perverse video-sculpture homage to Bruce Nauman’s mid-1960s Self-Portrait as a Fountain and devoted an entire exhibition at the San Francisco Art Commission Gallery to the influential Dutch-born conceptual artist Bas Jan Ader, who toyed with a sad-sack persona and disappeared mysteriously while attempting to cross the Atlantic alone in a 13-foot boat. Sullivan, a striking figure with pale blond hair and dark horn-rim glasses, often appears in his own work, using self-portraiture to tangentially channel his artistic forebears. While there may be something postmodern about this strategy, you don’t have to know about contemporary art history to be captivated by his visual magic. For instance, you need only know about the 1960s-style power of Herb Alpert to appreciate Sullivan’s remake of the classic Whipped Cream and Other Delights album cover. Sullivan plays the babe, slathered in foam.
He’s also made a life-size horizontal photograph of himself seemingly levitating just above the floor against a backdrop of fabulously chintzy flecked wallpaper. It’s in lush color — the artist wears a crimson T-shirt, a color he favors, perhaps for its theatricality. The image appears at a key spot in an opening gallery in the California Biennial, a timely survey of 31 West Coast artists organized by the Orange County Museum of Art (through Dec. 31), and it’s had the effect of giving Sullivan, a San Francisco Art Institute grad, wider recognition — he reports that he sold out an edition of the photograph, and he doesn’t even have gallery representation. He was singled out in the Los Angeles Times’ review of the show, which dubbed him a purveyor of high-spirited “do-it-yourself special effects art.”
The OC show also includes a hilarious video called Magic Carpet Ride, a piece made at a Fisherman’s Wharf souvenir stand. In it Sullivan and his former teacher, the filmmaker (and Goldie Lifetime Achievement winner) George Kuchar, cavort on a roller coaster gondola. The pair exude goofball charm as they whiz over the Golden Gate Bridge past friendly drag queens. Kuchar is an instructive reference, as Sullivan also seems to dream in Technicolor. They also collaborated on a theatricalized reenactment of Chris Burden’s Shoot, the politicized 1971 gallery performance in which the Southern California conceptualist artist was shot in the arm with a pistol. The Sullivan-Kuchar version is set against an amber-hued commercial photomural of a tropical sunset. As a child of the Midwest, Sullivan expresses a continuing appreciation for and bemusement with the California dream. In another recent piece, he’s made fluorescent matchbooks emblazoned with regionally significant incendiary song titles, “California Dreaming” and “Running with the Devil” among them. This guy’s on fire. (Glen Helfand)
Goldies Film winner James T. Hong
It’s rare when a filmmaker is able to match provocative themes with evocative imagery — and do it consistently. Addressing race and class issues in his arrestingly photographed works, James T. Hong is one such artist. His filmography includes Behold the Asian: How One Becomes What One Is (which won a Golden Gate Award at the 2000 San Francisco International Film Festival despite its labeling of dot-com-era San Francisco as “the white asshole paradise”) and Taipei 101: A Travelogue of Symptoms (Sensitive Version), an excoriation of white guy–Asian girl couples. (It’s a comedy, and a brutally funny one at that.)
“To tell you the truth, I’ve never thought anything I’ve ever done was very controversial,” Hong explains before allowing that the audience at the 2004 Taiwan International Documentary Film Festival, where Taipei 101 screened, included at least one person who threatened to fight him after the lights came up.
Not that Hong minds. One of his guiding principles as a filmmaker is “to make people think differently about a particular topic, whatever it’s about — to see it either in a new light or hear a voice that they themselves can’t express,” he says. “It’s not interesting to show movies to people who already agree with you. It’s better to show to a hostile audience.”
It’s certainly possible that his two newest works, The Denazification of MH and 731, might stir up the wrong (or right) kind of crowd. Both are technically different from films he’s made before: Denazification retains his signature narration-over-black-and-white-footage style but is entirely in German; 731 was shot on high-definition color video. Both were created using footage Hong captured while traveling earlier this year; both deal with questions of perspective in individuals and countries greatly affected by World War II.
“I’m just a war nerd,” he admits, but his interests extend far beyond those of the casual History Channel viewer. While the 2005 SFIFF featured his Iraq War parable, The Form of the Good, both of his latest efforts tie into his WWII fascination. The experimental 14-minute Denazification, which pays a visit to Martin Heidegger’s Black Forest cabin, explores the philosopher’s late-in-life struggle to come to terms with his wartime allegiance to the Nazi party.
Hong — who was born in the United States but says he’d jump at the chance to move to China permanently — calls 731 “a regular documentary — at least what I think is a regular documentary.” The 30-minute film features footage of an abandoned facility in northern China once used for biowarfare testing. The filmmaker’s narration grimly describes the Chinese view of the horrors that transpired there (“3,000 were killed in live-body experiments”) — before switching gears and offering the Japanese response (“war and atrocities go hand in hand”).
The point-counterpoint structure of 731 prefigures Hong’s most ambitious project to date, an in-progress film with the working title New History Zero. “It’s a feature-length documentary about the war and revisionism — the way the Japanese see it, the way the Chinese see it, and the way that America has had a huge influence on the way that the Japanese have dealt with the war, which is incompletely.”
After Denazification, Hong hopes to make more films in other tongues, to “force people to understand that English is not the only language.” But his overriding goal is as personal as it is political.
“My aim now is to communicate more with Asians. I realized that most of the Asian Americans I’ve encountered don’t like my work. Either it’s too nonnarrative — they’re more into the Hollywood type of movies — or it disturbs the kind of quietist attitude that they have,” he says. “They want to just fit in like everybody else. They don’t want to look like assholes. My aim is always to show that no, we are assholes — everybody is.” (Cheryl Eddy)
Goldies Theatre winner Last Planet Theatre
Offensive. Repugnant. Sick. Few theater directors enjoy hearing these words from patrons, especially as they’re bolting up the aisle ahead of the first-act curtain. Then again, for some there’s a certain satisfaction in knowing you’re still on track.
“The audiences are getting bigger,” notes Last Planet Theatre’s artistic director, John R. Wilkins. “Sometimes they hate it and walk out. They aren’t walking out, out of boredom. They’re walking out because it’s too much.”
That’s all right with him, provided what offends is delivered with artistic skill, vision, and honesty. “It’s not a lie that a 14-year-old rape victim, a retarded girl, should fall in love with a 45-year-old man who rapes her in diarrhea sex,” he muses. “I mean, it takes a lot to portray, but it doesn’t take a lot to imagine [the humanity of these characters]. You can say Seth [the 45-year-old in Franz Xaver Kroetz’s Farmyard] is corrupt. And he is — he’s wrong. But he’s going for it. Like the woman in [Howard Brenton’s] Sore Throats. To me, that’s just exactly perfect. Go and burn all the money, go out and destroy yourself — either live or destroy yourself. In the realm of art, that’s great.”
Not every production from Last Planet merits a walkout. But without fail every Last Planet production is an attempt to take the audience beyond the expected, the usual, the safe, and the prepackaged.
To that extent, Last Planet has been proudly offending audiences since 1998 — the year husband and wife John and Kimball Wilkins shelved their new Berkeley PhDs in English to pursue what they privately concede was a madcap dream of founding a theater company. The company has been in its own 80-seat theater since 2004 and comprises a small group of committed collaborators — including longtime associates Paul Rasmussen and Andrew Jones, the core of the company’s outstanding production team. Its productions of highly literary and brazenly theatrical work by the likes of Rainer Werner Fassbinder, Matthew Maguire, Michael McClure, Wallace Shawn, Howard Barker, and Ronald Ribman have less to do with a narrow sense of authenticity or realism than a commitment to exploring all you might be capable of feeling and thinking inside a theater. Along the way Last Planet presents an invariably bold and imaginative theatrical vision that’s in a refreshingly distinct orbit of its own.
“It has to be beautiful and confrontational,” John says, explaining the qualities that attract the company to a given work. “Those are some of the things we look for: sheer beauty and sheer brutality at the same time.”
Kimball pinpoints another crucial theme: “The logic or vision of the play has to believe more deeply in experience — the mystery of experience and the possibility of experience — than a particular idea, let alone an ideology. There’s something about the strength of experience in the plays that’s always an attraction.”
“We just see so many plays which are like copycats of television or copycats of movies,” John says. “They aren’t theatrical. They don’t have any theatrical models. Or if they do, they’re horribly content. You don’t get the type of nuts like Howard Barker or Howard Brenton and [Anthony] Neilson and Kroetz, who are just nutty to destroy the form that they love.”
“It’s a creative destruction,” Kimball says.
“Yeah, a creative destructive force,” John agrees. “So you’re sitting there thinking, can we match it? Pulling tricks on [the audience] — theatrical tricks are fine, but go right at them and try to grab them, shake them up and not let them loose and not let it be easy.”
“That’s not to say that it shouldn’t be enjoyable,” he adds with a laugh. “We don’t want to be avant-garde nuts. It should be an absolutely enjoyable experience. But given that, [it] should destroy people.” (Robert Avila)
Goldies Dance winner Funkanometry SF
Earlier this fall Funkanometry SF celebrated their fourth anniversary at the same place, 111 Minna Gallery, that is hosting this year’s Goldies ceremony and party. They packed the joint. Between then and now the company has been places. Six core members — including directors Emerson Aquino and Gina Rosales — answered an invitation to travel to Bogotá, Colombia. There, as part of the city’s Festival de Danza Urbana, they taught classes, were interviewed on the streets for radio and television, and gave performances.
Funkanometry SF is traveling these days — this month includes a trip to Chicago — but their heart remains in the Bay Area, where every Sunday night they take over the Westlake School for the Performing Arts in Daly City. In one large room company members and new students might run through eight counts while in another, smaller classroom veteran dancers hone an upcoming performance. Before, after, and in between the dancing, everyone hangs out in the courtyard, where kids and parents stop by to see what’s up.
“I really started choreographing when I was 14,” the soft-spoken Aquino explains one such Sunday, as he, Rosales, and cofounder Kyle Wai Lin good-naturedly attempt to break down the group’s history, kidding each other all the while. “To me, choreography is about making pictures. Once you realize the amount of people you have [to work with], you can maneuver them to make pictures.”
The pictures the group creates aren’t just captivating still images — they form waves of energy as friends in the audience shout encouragement to dancers on the floor. That type of flow is no small feat, considering Aquino and the 20-some-member group tap into many different genres of music. The ladies are as slyly, stylishly sexy-tough as Amerie and Aaliyah, and the gentlemen aren’t buried under baggy clothes — they’ve got debonair flair. In other words, Funkanometry SF aren’t solemn hip-hop snobs — they’re just as likely to draw from J-pop, house, or rock as they are Bay Area hyphy. “The art of choreography involves movement that is clear,” Aquino says while discussing the fact that Janet Jackson is a dancer’s pop singer if there ever was one (an axiom that extends to Timbaland as producer). “But a lot of people focus on movement at the expense of feeling. You can just move, but if you’re not feeling the music, you’re not dancing.”
Like Aquino, Funkanometry SF’s other codirectors started dancing in high school. Before joining Funkanometry SF the energetic Rosales captained a high school team and was part of another local crew, Xplicit. Lin and Aquino are friends dating back to childhood; these days Lin oversees the business and Web creative side of the group (www.funkanometrysf.com and www.funksters.org), letting Aquino guide the dancers. “Both of us wanted to create a foundation to serve the community, to challenge dancers, and create an outlet for youth,” Lin says. Judging from the huge response to the group’s Funksters youth program — overseen by Mary Jane Huang — they’re succeeding on all fronts.
Each fall the San Francisco Hip Hop Dance Fest rolls around, and along with another community-based local company — Oakland’s Izzy Award–winners New Style Motherlode — Funkanometry SF can be counted on to represent. This year Aquino and company are preparing a new show, Funk’s Boutique, for Micaya’s annual Palace of Fine Arts event. “It’s set in a trendy boutique, and it showcases the versatility and diversity of the company,” Aquino explains. Versatility and diversity — those are just two of the qualities that make Funkanometry SF unique. Each dancer brings another reason to check out their boutique. (Johnny Ray Huston)