Category Archives: Arts

Haley also being nice to the arts this year

I saw I had an email the other day from the South Carolina Arts Alliance, and I figured, “Well, it’s about that time, when they’re gearing up to fight Nikki Haley’s budget.” I assumed this was the first of a series of increasingly frantic notices, as in 2012 and 2013.

So I didn’t actually look at the release until just now, as I was trying clean up my Inbox. And I saw this:

art advocates

Whoa.

I knew she was seeking to add funding for poor rural school districts, and boost spending on mental health, but now the arts?

I suppose the Democrats will call that election-year opportunism as well, but that raises the question: Is she right? Assume she’s being a complete opportunist here: Is the woman who road to power on the love of the Tea Party right when she now concludes that this is the way to get re-elected.

If so, when and how did this change in the SC electorate occur?

There’s another way for cynics and partisans to read it, of course — that Nikki believes she has the Tea Party sewn up, and she can afford to go fishing in the political center. But from what I’ve seen, if you don’t agree with those folks on everything, they don’t believe in you. Is there any fury like a Tea Party scorned?

The most interesting thing in all this is not what it does to Nikki Haley’s political future, but whether there has been an actual sea change in the electorate. And if there has been, what does it all mean, Mr. Natural?

Is this the original Shakespearean pronunciation?

When SC Shakespeare Company did “Pride and Prejudice” last year, we had a couple of diction coaches helping us with Received Pronunciation. Which was probably reasonably faithful to the way Austen’s characters would have spoken.

But when this company or any other wants to be true to the original productions of Shakespeare, how on Earth are they supposed to know how it should sound?

These guys say they know. And the folks who run The Globe apparently believe them. Whether they’re right or not, it’s an interesting piece.

Turns out that English accents sounded vaguely Scottish — or some other Gaelic variant. In any case, it doesn’t sound English to this modern ear.

I shot this while touring the new Globe in December 2010.

I shot this while touring the new Globe in December 2010.

If you love books, dig my tie

Recently some of you had disparaging things to say about traditional men's neckwear. Well, this should
turn you around — at least, it should win over those of you who have enjoyed our discussion of good books back on this post.

Both p.m. and I put pretty much anything Mark Twain wrote on our favorites list, and I doubt that we're alone.

Anyway, I acquired this cravat a couple of years ago — it was a Father's Day present that I sort of picked out myself. I had seen it in the gift shop of a museum/performance hall in Harrisburg, Pa. I don't know where you would find it closer than that. The label says "Museum Artifacts," which led me to find one on this Web site. Just don't wear it to any event I'm likely to attend, 'cause I found it first!

There's a tantalizing detail on this tie: One of the book covers at the bottom is of a book called Innocents at Home, which I had never seen or heard of, much less read. And I find few references to in on the Web, although Amazon does seem to have a line on A copy.

Something to add to my "to read" list, for sure — if I can get my hands on one. I loved Innocents Abroad.

Grooving on that way cool Obama poster

The other day, looking for art appropriate to go with this Inauguration Day editorial, I settled on the 
now-famous Shepard Fairey poster.

In preparing it for publication in PhotoShop, I happened to change my view to "actual pixels," and went, Whoa! I had no idea of the depth of texture in the image, having only seen photos of it on T-shirts, etc. It put me in mind of that guy in "Electric Kool-Aid Acid Test" who drove everybody nuts with his constant running comment on a mandala he was grooving on. That guy would really have gone to town over this Obama poster.

So I thought I'd show it to you this way, with some detailed blow-ups, so you can groove on it, too.

 

And should you want to get a little deeper, no need to drop any Owsley Blues. Just go to this site, which my friend Cheryl Levenbrown at The New York Times turned me on to, where you can create your very own Obama-like poster, to wit (no, it's not nearly as detailed, but it's fun):

Today’s Will column, with links

The George Will column I put on today's page is one of his oblique ones — the closest thing to a point in it is what I said in the headline, which is that in a National Endowment for Humanities project, of all places, Mr. Will seems to have found what he regards as "A government program worth the money."

But the column caused me to look up some of the artworks he describes, and I enjoyed doing that. Of course, I couldn't reproduce them on the page itself, but I can run the column here with links, to make it easier for you to look at them yourself. Enjoy:

By GEORGE F. WILL
The Washington Post
In Winslow Homer’s 1865 painting “The Veteran in a New Field,” a farmer, bathed in sunshine, his back to the viewer, his Union uniform jacket cast on the ground, harvests wheat with a single-bladed scythe. That tool was out of date, and Homer first depicted the farmer wielding a more modern implement. Homer then painted over it, replacing it with what evokes a timeless symbol of death — the grim reaper’s scythe. The painting reminds viewers how much Civil War blood was shed, as at Gettysburg, in wheat fields.
    Homer’s painting is one of 40 works of art that the National Endowment for Humanities is distributing, in 24-by-36-inch reproductions, with teaching guides, to all primary and secondary schools and libraries that ask for them. About one-third of them already have done so, according to Bruce Cole, the NEH’s chairman.
    So as Washington’s dreariest year in decades sags to an end — a year in which trillion-dollar improvisations that will debase the dollar have been bracketed by a stimulus that did not stimulate and a rescue that will prolong automakers’ drownings — at the end of this feast of folly, consider something rarer than rubies. It is a 2008 government program that costs next to nothing — $2.6 million this year; a rounding error in the smallest of the bailouts. And “Picturing America” adds to the public stock of something scarce — understanding of the nation’s past and present.
    The 40 works of art include some almost universally familiar ones — John Singleton Copley’s 1768 portrait of a silversmith named Paul Revere; Emanuel Leutze’s 1851 “Washington Crossing the Delaware”; Augustus Saint-Gaudens’ bronze relief sculpture “Robert Gould Shaw and the Fifty-fourth Regiment Memorial” on Boston Common. But “Picturing America” is not, Cole takes pains to insist, “the government’s ‘top 40.’ ” Forty times 40 other selections of art and architecture could just as effectively illustrate how visual works are revealing records of the nation’s history and culture, and how visual stimulation can spark the synthesizing of information by students.
    The colorful impressionism of Childe Hassam’s flag-filled painting “Allies Day, May 1917” captures America’s waxing nationalism a month after entry into World War I. And it makes all the more moving the waning of hope captured in Dorothea Lange’s 1936 photograph “Migrant Mother.” This haunting image of a destitute 32-year old pea picker, a mother of seven, is a springboard into John Steinbeck’s novel The Grapes of Wrath.
    One of the 40 images in “Picturing America” is more timely than Cole could have suspected when the project was launched in February. It is a photograph of Manhattan’s Chrysler Building.
    Built between 1926 and 1930 — between the giddy ascent of the ’20s stock market and the Crash — this art deco monument to the might of America’s automobile industry is decorated with motifs of machines and streamlining. There are winged forms of a Chrysler radiator cap; an ornamental frieze replicates a band of hubcaps. The stainless steel of the famous spire suggests the signature of the automobile industry in its salad days — chrome.
    To understand the animal spirits that drove New York’s skyscraper competition — the Chrysler Building was the world’s tallest for less than a year, until the Empire State Building was completed 202 feet higher — is to understand an era. Two eras, actually — the one that built the building, and ours, which has reasons to be reminded of the evanescence of seemingly solid supremacies.
    After seven years of service, Cole, the longest-serving chairman in the 43-year history of the NEH, is leaving to head the American Revolution Center at Valley Forge. America has thousands of museums, including the Studebaker National Museum (South Bend, Ind.), the Packard Museum (Dayton, Ohio) — yes, Virginia, there was a time when automobile companies were allowed to perish — the Hammer Museum (Haines, Alaska), the Mustard Museum (Mount Horeb, Wis.), and the Spam Museum (Austin, Minn.) featuring the sort-of-meat, not the Internet annoyance. There is, however, no museum devoted to the most important political event that ever happened, here or anywhere else — the American Revolution.
    Cole says there will be one, at Valley Forge. It will be built mostly by private money, for an infinitesimally tiny fraction of the sum of public money currently being lavished on corporations. Perhaps a subsequent iteration of “Picturing America” will feature a thought-provoking photograph of the gleaming towers that currently house, among other things, General Motors’ headquarters. Looming over Detroit’s moonscape desolation, the building is called the Renaissance Center. Really.

Write to Mr. Will at [email protected].

The proper emotion, the seemly sentiment

Obamasmile

Yesterday morning, looking for art to go with today’s lead editorial, I picked the photo above. Along the way I had briefly considered the ones back on this post, but this one worked best worked best for my purposes in terms of expression and composition — it worked perfectly in terms of the size and shape I needed.

I hesitated to use if for only one reason: He looked so extremely YOUNG — far, far too young to be president. As young as his campaign workers that I wrote about back in this column in the summer of ’07. It brought to mind something I said to my wife recently about JFK: He was several years younger than Obama when elected, but I remember him as looking older and more mature. Is that because I was a child at the time, or did he just look more grown-up manly. Was it something about that generation — they had been to war, and that does something to a man’s face. They were the Daddy generation (in fact, somewhat older than MY dad, who was too young for WWII). My wife pointed out something I should have realized: The prednisone that Kennedy took for his back problems caused his face to fill out; before that, HE looked like a skinny, gawdy kid. True enough, I suppose.

So I hesitated to use a photo with our congratulatory editorial that in my own mind raised one of the reasons I preferred McCain, on a gut level: Obama is to me something far more dramatic than the first "black" president (a distinction regarding which I have my own rather pedantic doubts). He is the first president younger than me. Quite a bit younger. So it is that, not wanting to express doubts about the new president through my choice of a photo, I paused. But nothing else I saw was nearly as suitable, so I went with it.

Imagine my dismay last night when, flipping channels on the boob tube, I saw a news program use the very same photo quite prominently. Then imagine my further concern this morning to see that our newsroom had decided to, in the hyperbolic expression that many readers use, "splash" that photo across six columns on the front page this morning. This coincidence give grist to those who believe there is collusion between news and editorial, when the truth is that I see these things when you, the reader, do.

These "coincidences" cause me to reflect on what Tom Wolfe once said about the news media, which was to call us the Victorian Gentleman, constantly striving to evince the proper emotion, the exact right tone for the moment — which causes us to make the very same decisions simultaneously, without the slightest effort at collusion or even awareness of what each other are doing. This picture is an illustration of that phenomenon. It said "winner" better than any other photo, so everyone picked it.

By the way, my second choice of the day was the one below that I used on the op-ed page, with the David Broder column. Obama’s expression isn’t nearly as good — he almost looks apprehensive — but he has that "eyes on the distant horizon" look, and the air Biden has of presenting him to the world (Behold, your new president!) was just too good, too apt, to pass up.

So on the whole, this Victorian Gent is satisfied.

Obamabiden

And for you Democrats…

Confetti

Y
es, I know that before Sarahmania there was Obamania, and for those of you who still fondly remember those days before the Alaskan Invasion (the way some clung bitterly to Elvis after the Beatles came along — which I guess would make McCainiacs like Sinatra devotees), here’s a picture to warm your hearts.

It’s not as visually interesting or evocative as some of the other pics I’ve shared, such as the T-shirt guy, but it’s a nice photo, with a nice composition — or at least, well cropped. You’ll notice it also has a little of that halo thing going on. I had saved it when I saw it after the acceptance speech for use later, and since I sensed Dems getting antsy over the last couple of posts, I share it now.

Enjoy.

Sarahmania

Sarahmania

C
ontinuing on the subject of interesting pics, and shamelessly willing to post whatever it takes to drive traffic (within limits), here’s one I just ran across that encapsulates Sarahmania more than any other I’ve seen. It’s from the same rally as the shot in the previous post, by the way.

Perhaps irrelevantly, doesn’t her smile in this one look a little like that of the nice, attractive girl whose Mom made her go out with the geeky guy, and he’s having an AWESOME time, and she’s gamely trying to see it through, all the while thinking, "Can I plead a headache yet? Would he believe me if I said my father wanted me home by 7:30?"

Speaking of Sarah, I think the coolest shot of her since she came on the scene is the one below that I put on the Monday letters page. It’s emblematic of someone young and new and fresh being sprung on the world. She looks kind of like a smart kid in a spelling bee, standing on the stage, hands at her sides, waiting for the next word with no fear, no fear at all. Botticelli put Venus on the half-shell; a Republican artist would present Sarah Palin to the world this way.

Palinstand

Art for art’s sake, GOP edition

Mccain_palin

R
emember when I shared the photo of the Obama supporter with the T-shirt outside the stadium, just because I liked the picture?

Well, here is its perfect Republican complement. Beyond the fact that I like the picture, there is something about it that invokes the essence of support for the McCain-Palin ticket in the same way that the hip, youthful, stylized image of the Obama supporter did that ticket.

Do you agree?

Anyway, I actually managed to get this one into the paper — a black-and-white version of it, anyway. It will be on tomorrow’s op-ed page, with a Kathleen Parker column that it didn’t exactly go with, but sort of did.

Editing cartoons

You might wonder what my role is in Robert Ariail’s cartooning process. Well, I’m his editor, so my function is much the same as when editing text, only it’s pictures.

For instance, Robert had done a cartoon for tomorrow that — way back in a corner of the background — had a fire hydrant. But there was no dog in the cartoon. He had drawn a cartoon fire hydrant without a cartoon dog! Obviously, he had slipped a bit from being on vacation last week.

As soon as I pointed out the omission, he immediately went and fixed it. We must preserve the unities, you know.

And to think — there are people in this world who don’t think editors serve a useful purpose…

King Harvest (Has Surely Come)

Over the weekend, going through some of the stuff my daughter brought when she moved home from Pennsylvania, my wife found a travel case full of CDs I’d about given up on. Some of them were favorites — albums I had bought on vinyl in my youth, such as Steve Miller’s "Your Saving Grace" and The Band’s "The Band."

I put The Band’s master opus into the player in my truck yesterday, and it transported me back. I love those indescribable autumnal tones and word imagery. Over the weekend, we had watched the odd, uneven "I’m Not There," and the scenes with Richard Gere wandering through the faux old-timey (vaguely western, vaguely country) landscape and town were obviously an attempt to evoke that very same feeling, especially the parts around the bandstand. Far less successful, of course.

But you know how it is when you read or see or listen to something from your youth, and you see a flaw you didn’t see back then, and you’re sorry you noticed it? An extreme example of this was the time about 20 years ago when "The Dirty Dozen" came on television, and I said to my in-laws, "Oh, let’s watch this; this is good," and then minute after awful minute dragged by until I felt constrained to apologize for it? When I had seen it at 14, it had been good; I assure you.

This was more subtle. I’m listening to "King Harvest (Will Surely Come)," which makes the October wind blow like no other, and I’m suddenly struck by the incongruity of these two lines:

I will hear ev’ry word the boss may say,
For he’s the one who hands me down my pay.

Which makes perfect sense on one level — the words being spoken by a failed farmer who wants to make a go of his new job. But, with its suggestion that the worker’s position and future are dependent upon doing the will of the boss, it’s wholly inconsistent with the repeated theme that he is now "a union man now, all the way."

This later passage is more consistent with that attitude:

Then there comes a man with a paper and a pen
Tellin’ us our hard times are about to end.
And then, if they don’t give us what we like
He said, "Men, that’s when you gotta go on strike."

But wait — maybe the "boss" is the union boss, not management. That way it works. I feel better now. (Come to think of it, I believe that’s the way I sort of unconsciously understood it years ago.)

In any case, I still love the song, and the whole album. I stopped it in the middle of the second play this morning, and put in the Steve Miller, to keep myself from getting tired of it. (It’s much better than the Steve Miller, but perhaps that’s an unfair comparison — especially since I haven’t heard the much stronger second side yet.)

All you gotta do is rag, Mama, rag, Mama, rag…

Art for art’s sake

Invesco

L
ooks like I won’t get around to telling my Dan Quayle story today, because it will take me some time. It’s about how several of us here at The State spent a week back in 1988.

But in the meantime, here’s a picture I just liked because I liked it. The composition, or the visual irony of stylized artwork superimposed on reality, or some such. Anyway, somebody at the WSJ liked it, too, because they put it on their front page, even though they knew it would be outdated (Obama’s acceptance speech was that night) by the time readers saw it. I’m guessing they subbed it out in the local edition.

Anyway, I was going to post it on Friday, but an abortive attempt to find it on AP failed. Today I found it. So enjoy.

Maybe an art major out there can explain to me why I like the picture.

There Will Be Tedium

Lewis

Do you ever feel you’ve been had, or at least put-upon, by what some will urge upon you as ART?

Tonight I finished, after three highly tedious sessions over as many nights and lots of fast-forwarding, trying to watch "There Will Be Blood." I kept thinking it would get better. Some of the ways in which it was off-putting at the start reminded me of "The Assassination of Jesse James by the Coward Robert Ford" — the same sort of heavy-handed atmosphere that seems designed to rub into your head the notion that "the West in olden times was really weird, and not at all like a Gene Autrey movie" — and that one got better. I even enjoyed it by the end.

But this did not. Yes, Daniel Day-Lewis acted up a storm, but that’s all there was to it — an actor showing off, really getting into a character that I was sick of by the second reel, a character not worth getting into. So he’s done various American archetypes now — the raw nativist of "Gangs of New York," the effeminate dandy of "The Age of Innocence," and now the rapaciously driven oil man — but frankly, I think he’s repeating himself. In fact, I felt like, having seen his "Bill the Butcher," I’ve already seen the character he did in "There Will Be Blood." And the first version was much, much more interesting, even though "Gangs" is probably tied with "Innocence" in my mind for least-appealing Scorcese movie.

Anyway, it’s presented me with a tough decision. On Netflix, should I give it two stars for "didn’t like it," or the rare one star for "hated it?"

Maybe two stars. Now that I’ve griped to y’all about it, I’m not as ticked as I was about the time I wasted. I need to save the one-star rating for awfulness that is truly inspired, truly worth hating, like Lynch’s "Dune."

Obama as Mr. Darcy

Darcy

F
or tomorrow’s op-ed page I chose a Maureen Dowd column because I appreciated her insight that Barack Obama, in terms of his relationship with many American voters (particularly diehard female supporters of Hillary) is very much like Mr. Darcy in Pride and Prejudice.

This is dead-on, and it speaks to a truth that certainly should be universally acknowledged: Despite all the chatter about the deep meaning of Obama as the "first black candidate," there is nothing black about his image or persona. Can you think of a black man in literature or popular culture of whom Obama reminds you? Maybe Sidney Poitier in "To Sir With Love," if you stretch the point.

But when Ms. Dowd invokes the archetypically white, Anglo, rich, Establishment Fitzwilliam Darcy, I think, "Exactly."

Mind you, I like Mr. Darcy. When I saw the series that Bridget Jones went gaga over, I identified with him — with his negative aspects that is: his social awkwardness, his aversion to dancing, his refusal to be pleased, etc. (I am, I assure you, no Mr. Bingley.) My daughters identify me — far more accurately, in terms of the way they see me — with a different character altogether: Mr. Bennet. Perhaps if, like that gentleman, I had a study to retreat to, I would be unaware of both Mr. Darcy and Miss Jones. As it is, with so many daughters (and now, granddaughters) in the house, my life is richer. My DVD shelf includes both the definitive 1995 "Pride" and the inimitable 1968 "Where Eagles Dare," with the entire canon of "Firefly" thrown in to bridge the gap. How more well-rounded can a gentleman be, indeed?

But when Maureen tried to stretch the point and cast John McCain in "Pride" terms, her analogy broke down. She compared him to Mr. Wickham, which is not only a gross insult but has no ring of truth whatsoever. Mr. Wickham was what military men of his day would have called a "scrub." He would have garnered no respect in the gunroom of any ship in the Royal Navy in those days, for instance — yet that is precisely the sort of place where Mr. McCain would be most at home back then.

Basically, I don’t think you can find a McCain analogy in Jane Austen. The closest you could come would be the main male character in "Persuasion." At least he was a naval officer.

For that reason among others, I predict Obama will win the Chick Lit vote, hands-down.

Obamaweb

Dayhawks

Today’s column may seem a little weird, even by my standards. But it could have been weirder. I did, after all, resist the temptation to make this my second paragraph:

It was just like Edward Hopper’s "Nighthawks." Except that it was in the daytime, and there was just one customer instead of three, and it was in a small town rather than an urban setting, and the counterman was a woman. Other than those things, it was just like "Nighthawks."

…not to be confused, of course, with the Gottfried Helnwein version.

Boys, give me something in a C progression…

Hey, those guys had some pretty good timing, didn’t they?

Anyway, this morning I see that The New York Times is saying that:

Former Senator Fred D. Thompson  of Tennessee has taken new steps that make it clear that he is likely to run for the White House, potentially shaking up a field of candidates that has failed to strike a chord with the Republican base….

… and with my uncanny ability for going right to the heart of the matter, I immediately wondered, "which chord would that be?"

I’m thinking a basic C chord, within the context of a blues progression. That would be very Nashville, with a hint of Memphis thrown in. It would go with the drawl and the red pickup truck, which has been Fred’s campaign persona in the past.

Get out your ax (not the one you grind, the acoustic one) and strum C, F, G, G7 — maybe throw in an A minor in there someplace, or an E minor, or…

OK, I’m way out of my depth on music here. I can strum it, but when I try to write it, it’s too hard. Phillip, or anybody else out there?

Beyond that, in order to strike this chord in the electorate, would Fred have to sing a new song, or should it be something we know already that he could cover? I’m thinking a cover of an old favorite, or a new song that sounds old-timey. Anybody have any titles?

Marvin’s take on his festival

Here’s an e-mail Marvin Chernoff sent out giving his assessment of how his Columbia Festival of the Arts went:

Here’s my take on the festival.

It was a great success.

The two bookends, the gala at the beginning and the closing concert at
the end, were treasures. Ask anyone who was there (besides, Jeffrey Day), and they will
tell you that this town has never seen anything quite like them, and probably
won’t, for a long while.

Artista Vista this year was a success with good attendance, especially on
Saturday, according to most of the gallery owners.

There were a couple of mistakes that were made because this was the first
year. The biggest was the
timing. It probably should have
been held during the regular season for performance companies so they wouldn’t
have had to expend big dollars for an additional show and could have depended on
subscription attendees to build the audiences.

Nonetheless, As
You Like It,
at Theatre USC was an outstanding performance and general
admission sales, that is tickets sold to people outside the university, increased over normal by over 100%!

Opera USC’s Postcard from Morocco was wonderful,
however, attendance was normal.

Palmetto Opera’s Marriage of
Figaro
was an outstanding success, including attendance, considering that it
was a new venture without a large following.

Attendance at Marionette Theatre was outstanding.

The three theatres, Trustus, Workshop and Town virtually
sold out during the festival. But more importantly, each of them told
us that there were lots of new attendees, people who were
unaware of the theatres and what they could perform
. And all those new people were impressed
with the really fine performances of Nunsense Amen, Ain’t Misbehavin’ and Cats.

USC Dance performed magnificently to a good house.

Attendance at the USC Symphony pops concert with Marvin Hamlisch was a
disappointment. Don’t ask me
why. Sol Hurok once said, “If
they’re not coming, you can’t hold them back.”

The Philharmonic concert was wonderful and, considering that it was not a
subscription part of the season, sold to a good house of 1,400.

Barry, from Mac’s on Main, told me it may have been the best
10 days he ever had.

We’re proud that the Columbia Arts Hall of Fame is now on permanent
display at the Koger Center.

Marina Lamozov, Joseph Rackers, The Capital City Chorale and Skipp
Pearson rocked the Brookland Baptist Church at their free concert. It was a real treat.

First Thursday Jazz Concert at the Zoo
during the festival more than tripled its usual
attendance and the artists who showed their work, virtually, sold out.  The
people at the Zoo were "blown
away."

The Columbia City Jazz Dance Group and the Columbia City Ballet both did
amazing performances to moderate houses.

Washington Street Methodist Church’s schedule of events was
outstanding for them, and they are delighted with the
attendance
. So was the
Jewish Cultural Arts group who presented Tel Aviv Café to a good audience at the
Jewish Community Center.

Then there was the Open Studio Tour. Every artist I’ve encountered in this town
has thanked me profusely for helping make the Open Studio Tour
happen
. We think that the
artists had over 8,000 visits and that they sold between $35,000 and $40,000 in
art, much of it to people who came in from out of town to visit their
studios. And the people, who
attended, from all over the region, loved it.

Our web site had over 15,000 visits. And we sold over 450 tickets to events
on line during the festival amounting to over $11,000 in sales. We think those are mostly sales to
people who would not have
otherwise gone to the individual box offices or sites to purchase their
tickets. Experts told
us that this was an excellent result for a first time
event.

The bottom line…our goal was to make people in and around
Columbia more
aware and proud of the arts scene here.

DOES ANYONE WHO WAS ALIVE AND BREATHING IN THIS TOWN OVER
THE PAST FEW WEEKS DOUBT THAT WAS ACCOMPLISHED?

Marvin

Marvin defends his festival

Here’s what Marvin Chernoff, father of the Columbia Festival of the Arts, had to say in a memo to the festival’s "advisory committee" in response to our editorial this morning:

Three things. 
1.  If you saw this morning’s State newspaper editorial it would be pretty obvious that they feel strongly that festivals like ours should be paid for by "private donations not public money".
    Well guess what?  I agree.  And, unless I’m missing something, that’s exactly what we did.  You see, aside from the sponsor money, the in kind contributions from media, the contributions to Friends of the Festival and sales of gala tickets, the money we got from the city and the county was from hospitality and accommodations taxes.
    Those are "private donations" made by people like you and me whenever we eat some prepared food or stay in a hotel.  It just goes to the city for them to hold and then turn around to pay for things like festivals that bring people to those restaurants and hotels.
    What would the State editorial board have the city do with that money, pave roads?  I think that might make the restaurateurs and hoteliers who collect it upset.  And the people who pay it too.
2.  Joint ticketing is now available on our web site.  It’s really neat.  You can go to www.columbiafestivalofthearts.com click on the ticketing icon and pick out your tickets for up to 17 different events.  And miracle of miracles your etickets are printed out on your printer.
3.  Tickets to the Gala are going fact.  If you are going to the gala, I would buy my ticket now.  There will be nothing any one can do for you after they are all gone.

Less than three weeks.

To see what the editorial board would "have the city do with that money," read the editorial. As we said, this is money that could be going straight to arts groups, and could also come out of direct funding they might want in the near future.

Art restoration

John72
T
his is one for you art lovers out there. My roommate from my USC days recently took part in the special pre-demolition reception for former inmates of the Honeycombs. He will remain nameless for now — all I will say is that he was an art major, and that is him at the bottom of the above image.

As you see him, he has just restored a graffiti work from his early Gonzo-minimalist period — or restored it as well as he could, working in a hurried fashion before the university authorities could notice he had slipped away from the group.

By the way, my roommate was the responsible one in our duo — he kept his side of the room spotless, with all his art supplies neatly stacked and categorized, his clothes put away in the closet. He was the one with the short, conservative hair. I think he even used to make his bed.

My side looked like a waste dump, featuring pots with week-old food cooked on with my contraband hotplate, sloppily-hung posters and dirty clothes. The finishing touch was my mountain of State newspapers, not one of which I ever tossed, constantly spilling over to his side, and earning me the sobriquet "Ratso Rizzo" (we had both seen "Midnight Cowboy" over at the Russell House). He still calls me that, even though I’ve cut my hair and shaved.

Connoisseurs of early-1970s, 4th-floor Snowden culture will recognize the above hastily-penned reproduction as only dimly evocative of the original, once-thought-to-be-immortal work that was scratched deeply into the paint that coated the concrete-block wall. It was located over the elevator immediately across from our room, and was still there when I took my bride by there on our honeymoon three years later. I was proud to play the docent and explain to her the history behind this treasure. She was suitably impressed, I think — she was speechless.

Unfortunately, the original was lost to a later renovation of the building — probably about the time they put those sissy dividers in to make separate shower stalls in the floor’s one bathroom.

But all is not lost! My roommate and I are planning a guerrilla revisit to the site in the next few days, and hope to restore the original to its rightful place, so that the building’s boisterous spirits will lie at rest when the Big Crash comes. If you would like to help in bringing about this once-in-a-lifetime testament to the (adolescent) human spirit, your cash gifts can be sent to this blog.