This post was written by Walker Art Center Teen Arts Council (WACTAC) member Bre Blaesing.

I went with a group of people to see The Violin last night, directed by Francisco Vargas.

The Violin:

“In the 1970s, a seemingly harmless violin player named Don Plutarco (Don Ángel Tavira, winner of the Un Certain Regard best actor award at the 2006 Cannes Film Festival) supports the peasant movement's armed revolt along with his son and grandson. After their village is attacked by the military in the harrowing first minutes of the film, Plutarco wins over the army captain with his music, which gets him closer to information and supplies that can help the guerrillas counterattack.”

The Violin is the best film I have seen all year, for three reasons:

1. It is apart of a new and exciting film movement. Personally I am very excited for the Nuevo Cine Mexicano movement that is going on in Mexico and other Latin Countries, I am excited that it is beginning to receive some of the attention that it deserves. The film The Violin is a strong example of the anthem of emerging filmmakers from Mexico, the anthem is reflecting on misguided policy structure, economic crisis, rejection of institutions and rights for the people (not only in Mexico). In a time were consumerism and weakened policy structure is common among many countries the artist response to the abuse of power and the corruptions that come along with is a direct response to oppression all over the world.
2. The filmmaking and use of close ups is stunning. Francisco Vargas ability to capture human emotion through high contrast close ups is stunning. The main character Plutarco is the hero of The Violin, throughout the film we are stunned by his wisdom and courage, often we see him reflecting on life, playing music with his grandson and passing on crucial information to the revolutionaries, we see him in high contrast at night in front of a fire the glow of the embers on his face are stunning.
3. The director has positive things to say to youth filmmakers. Francisco Vargas was at the screening of the film, after the film was shown I was able to ask him if he has any words of wisdom for young filmmakers, he described the process of creating The Violin, he discussed how many people did not want him to make the film, people believed that the issues that are discussed, the political edge of it was unimportant,and that no one would care . He searched for 6 months to find the character Plutarco numerous times people told him that the character they wanted did not exist. It took them five years to make this film, and they only had 4 weeks to shot it on a very modest budget. The film has since become a blockbuster and the lead actor Plutarco, who had never acted before, won the Best Actor Award from the Cannes Film Festival. Overall he said that if you have passion no matter what people say to follow your dreams!!!

If you ever have the opportunity to see The Violin or future Francisco Vargas films make a point of doing so you will not be disappointed.

I am Youtube-ing a trailer of the film, there are not English Subtitles, however this can serve as an example of the filmmaking and to get you excited for the Nuevo Cine Mexicano.

Enjoy..

If you are interested in reading more WACTAC reviews check out teens.walkerart.org

Last night was the last Target Free Thursday Night before the Picasso and American Art exhibition closes on Sept 9th and people were coming in droves to see the work of the master. We had decided not to give Picasso tours that night because the galleries were too crowded, but it was clear that the people in the lobby were there to see Picasso, and so we came up with a quick Plan B (or "Plan P" as it were...). So we gave the 40 or so gathered folks a choice: Go on a tour of contemporary paintings in the permanent collection as a prelude for seeing the Picasso exhibition (about 10 chose that option), or stay for a brief overview of the Picasso show before heading up to the special exhibition galleries.
What to say in five minutes or less to help people make sense of the exhibition, which is really about a handful of avant garde American artists who felt compelled to react to the inventive styles of Picasso? We came up with "Find the Picasso." As you enter each section of the galleries, look first for the embedded work by Picasso. Then compare and contrast that work with the works by American artists surrounding it. You remember "compare and contrast" from your art history 101 course, right? Look for how American artists pulled strategies for abstraction, riffed on subject matter, paid homage to Picasso, and took it to the next level. You will impress those around you with your insights and pithy observations. And who knows? You might wind up being an ad hoc Picasso tour guide on your own.

We began last night’s book club discussion of Louise Erdrich’s The Painted Drum by focusing on the drum itself: its metaphysical qualities, its unique history, its cultural significance, and its power as a literary symbol.

We then talked about the author’s conscious decision to employ a multi-voiced narrative technique, and generally agreed that this strategy served the novel well.

One member of the group then made an interesting connection to the exhibition Picasso and American Art, which we had toured earlier under the guidance of the amazingly enthusiastic Gary White (his passion for the art is surpassed only by his encyclopedic knowledge).

Our fellow reader likened Erdrich’s use of multiple narrative perspectives to Picasso’s cubist approach to multiple visual planes.

I’d never thought of that, and was once again humbled by the wide range of insights provided by the participants of our group. I realized that’s part of what makes viewing art and discussing literature as a group such an incredible social experience: you just never know what’s going to pop up next.

Speaking of popping up next, during August’s edition of The Artist’s Bookshelf we will read and discuss Kiran Desai’s Booker Prize-winning novel, The Inheritance of Loss.

I can hardly wait.

At last night’s meeting of The Artist’s Bookshelf, we tackled what many fans of Mr. Vonnegut consider to be his masterwork, Slaughterhouse-Five. We approached the novel as a contemporary “mythology” and focused most of our discussion on the author’s fragmented narrative technique, which seemed to parallel the subconscious journeys of the loveable but “alienated” protagonist Billy Pilgrim.

As always, the diversity of our group led to a wide range of opinions and observations. We encompassed at least three “war generations” (WWII, Vietnam, and Iraq), ranged in age from 18-85, and broke down into two distinct groups: those who had actually experienced encounters with UFO’s and the 4th dimension, and those who had not.

(For personal reasons, I will refrain from revealing my category.)

Some of us appreciated the dark humor and found portions of the book hilarious, others, not so much. We reached some consensus on the potency of Mr. Vonnegut’s anti-war message, and generally agreed that it had not diminished over time.

And in the end, we took some degree of comfort in the author’s cynical hopefulness, expressed so poignantly in the final chapter:

“If what Billy Pilgrim learned from the Tralfamadorians is true, that we all live forever, no matter how dead we may sometimes seem to be, I am not overjoyed. Still– if I am going to spend eternity visiting this moment and that, I’m grateful that so many of those moments are nice.”
– p.186, Slaughterhouse-Five

I’m at a loss for words trying to describe yesterday’s scavenger hunt. Fun and awesome are two words I could use. Certainly, Michael Gaughan’s scavenger hunts have been some of the most unique in the Twin Cities, and yesterday was no different.

As a participant, I took quite a few photos. And so did a lot of other people. So I uploaded my photos to my Flickr account and created a group with the Walker’s Flickr account. If you took photos and are a Flickr user, add yourself to WACTAC group, then add your photos to the pool. Rather than just creating a group specifically for this event, I’m making it a bit more extensible down the road.

If you’re not a Flickr user, just drop a note in the comments here and I’ll link your photos in this post.

Edit: Now with youtube goodness:

This post is woefully overdue. The event itself, a Free Verse artist talk with Neil Gaiman and Dave McKean, actually happened a week ago today. But I have been up to my eyeballs in budget work (along with the rest of my department) and this little piece of programmatic joy fell by the wayside. For shame! A brief synopsis:

1. There’s really only one phrase that accurately describes my state of mind around these two artists: fangirl. In fact, I’d been buzzing about the event for months but couldn’t tell a soul until plans were confirmed, flights booked, etc. Frustration!

2. Target Free Thursday Nights is a beast of a gateway program. TFTN brings it to the Walker, no question. People started arriving at 3pm to get in line for a chance to get a ticket. People drove in from all over the state and even out-of-state (thank you, Cincinnati!) to attend. I made several trips from my desk out to the lobby to check out the enormous crowd that stretched from one lobby to another. Amazing! And so many folks had never been to the Walker before. See what I mean? TFTN brings it. Here are the first folks in line:

3. I got to play bouncer at the front of the stage for a while, and then my big moment came! My colleague, and TFTN director, Sarah Peters, took me backstage to meet the artists. I embarrassed myself appropriately with just the right amount of fan enthusiasm.

4. Dave McKean expounds on the mystifying allure of superhero comics, and Batman’s “ears” - claims he just doesn’t get it.

4. Neil Gaiman read a few poems and regaled us with witty stories about his 20 years working with Dave McKean, and the bedtime stories his father had told him when he was young about the adventures of two squirrels that lived in a tree outside his house. They had ridiculous names that I can’t remember now, like ‘Squibby’. Well, the talk will be immortalized over at the Walker Channel, so do find out those squirrels’ names for me, please.

5. The next day I got in to work to find an e-mail from a guy who was at the artist talk and saw me there. He told me he spent the evening torn between admiring the work of Dave McKean and trying to remember how he knew me. Turns out, I showed him an apartment last May (I manage a couple of apartment buildings part time). Small world!

The budgets are calling, folks. Later.

Ah, the Brits. The British Television Advertising Awards. This long tradition of Walker screenings of the Brits brings a special breed of mayhem to the holidays. And if the comments on Joe’s post are any indication, the Brits are one of those holiday treats worth fighting for. And scrambling for. And bargaining for. And begging for.

I myself waited until it was almost too late. I scraped up a ticket at the very last gasp, then raced to find a good seat.

There were a lot of great winners this year. (The public service announcements are always big favorites with me.) Some of the adverts were so great, in fact, that as I watched them I began to hope that they would turn out to not be advertisements at all. I wanted desperately for the clip to end without some product being thrown in my face. I wanted to know that the designers and producers were making something for the sole reason of great design and execution, and not as a stellar attempt to sell me a less than stellar beer or pair of jeans or whatever. The perfect example of this, for me, was an ad for Sony’s Bravia LCD television. It was so beautiful, and the song so lovely, that I kept my fingers crossed that this one would turn out to be a music video. No such luck. But please enjoy it anyway.
Hands down, my favorite of the whole affair was a VW Golf ad starring Gene Kelly. I won’t ruin the surprise for you. Check it out.

Maybe they just don't like talking about it... in semi-public places... sitting around in a circle... facing each other... and openly sharing... dare I say... feelings!

According to tabulations on my calculator, the female-to-male ratio at the gathering of The Artist's Bookshelf last night sat squarely at 25:1. I'm not complaining, just facing the reality of the powerful presence of female energy in the room. Given the vast gender imbalance of our group, I suppose it only natural that a good deal of our conversation tilted towards issues of gender, as reflected in the drastically differing voices utilized by author Nicole Krauss in her compelling novel, The History of Love.

We all expressed awe at her ability to articulate so poignantly visions of the world as seen through the eyes of a 14 year-old girl and an 80 year-old man, with equal degrees of conviction, worldliness, and compassion.

Some of us struggled with the intricacies of plot and the complexities of multiple narrative voices. Some of us read it twice out of necessity, some of us read it twice for the sheer pleasure of losing ourselves in the lyrical prose, some of us skimmed it lightly, and as always, a few of us, despite the very best intentions, hadn't yet made it beyond the dust jacket. But hey, that's okay. We came to share.

We approached the book in conjunction with the current Heart of Darkness exhibition, and as always, managed to mine at least a few interesting links. Perhaps installation artist Kai Althoff's statement summed it up best:

"I think my work is much more about 'love,' if I dare say that: things that I don't get from love, things that I love or want to love, or that I want to love me."

Wait a minute... he's a man... isn't he?

We dove headfirst into American Gods last night and barely made it up for air. For those of you unfamiliar with this popular, multi-award garnered novel by Neil Gaiman, it's a darkly humorous, high-octane blend of pulp fiction, sci-fi, and spiritual warfare, set for the most part in a parallel universe that bears a strong resemblance to northern Wisconsin.

We were able to draw a number of thematic links to the Heart of Darkness exhibition, which we toured immediately preceding our discussion. The Thomas Hirschhorn cave could have easily been a setting for several scenes of the novel, and the blood-stained sofa in Kai Althoff’s installation evoked an eerie similarity to a room where the novel's protagonist engages in a life and death games of checkers.

Though, within our group, gut reaction to the novel covered the gamut of emotional response from love to hate, we came to a shared understanding and appreciation of the massive range and scope of the author's efforts. “Epic” only begins to describe Mr. Gaiman's tome. And in the season of the ten-second sound bite, that in it self can serve as a refreshing respite for frazzled neural receptors.