For Your Viewing Displeasure.

c. David Grim (taken 10/16/10)

Well, now that it's the holiday, I have some time off. It's strange how quickly I get back into my routine of obligations, so that when I get a block of free time again I'm at a bit of a loss as to how to spend it. I've already done my rather extensive research on what is happening around town during this break, and I'm sad to say that the schedule is rather thin. Obviously I'd love it if there was a lot more happening on the arts scene, but traditionally these holidays see a marked slowdown. No doubt I'll find myself at home on my couch watching some movies. After all I still have a significant backlog of DVD's to watch.

Yesterday on my way home from work I stopped at a friend's house, and found myself sticking around for some entertainment via "On Demand". I'm not sure why I thought it was a good idea to put "Strangeland" on, but I ended up seeing it through its full running length. And it was as bizarre as advertised. I remember years ago hearing about a horror film with Dee Snider from Twisted Sister, and wondering how it could be anything other than a cheesy mess. But the fact is that this movie ended up being genuinely disturbing.

It starts out with an extremely outdated screen shot of a chat room on a computer desktop. Two teenage girls are about to get lured into a devious and horrifying trap. I was amused to watch one young woman's astonishment upon encountering 'Instant Messaging' for the very first time. But there were probably quite a few viewers who were unfamiliar with the technology in 1998, when "Strangeland" was released. In fact this video nasty has a lot of surprises embedded in its ugliness. Snider plays an acolyte of "modern primitivism", and doles out quite a bit of ham-handed philosophy to accompany his sadistic torture of his captive teenagers.

If you have any taste at all for forward-thinking horror leavened with dark heavy metal music and lots of piercings, you might want to give this thing a watch, if only for the experience of seeing something altogether different from the ordinary popcorn-and-blood flicks that the mainstream is usually given to feast upon. I have no idea who the filmmakers thought would be the proper demographic for this thing, and I really wouldn't want to hang out with anyone who would want to watch this on a regular basis. But at the same time, from a sociological perspective I think this can be informative. If nothing else it can serve as a great cautionary tale about internet chat rooms and the predators that stalk them.

Sure, it was an odd way to start my vacation from work. Still I'm glad I got this viewing out of the way, and I don't have to wonder why some reviewers recommend "Strangeland". There are some truly fucked up people out there, addicted to cruelty and sadism. I'm not certain whether or not the people responsible for this movie fall into that category or not, but I'd be wary of anyone who would cite title this among their favorites.

Jimmy Cvetic's "Secret Society of Dog".

c. David Grim (taken 8/19/08)

A week ago I did something I rarely ever do- I went to a poetry reading. I am a voracious reader of both fiction and non-fiction, but I rarely take the time to read poems. I suppose if I put the time into it I could find several poets worth reading, but I haven't made much of an effort. Besides Russell Edson and Charles Bukowski, I've never found any favorites. The former is 75 years old and the latter is dead. I don't see anyone on the horizon that is likely to assume their respective places in my interests. Still I suppose it's possible.

Even up to the last moment I wasn't certain I was going to make it out to the reading. It was at Hemingway's Cafe in Oakland, and I hadn't been down to that part of the city for a night out in a long time. Hell, the last time I was at Hemingway's was probably 15 years ago. I once saw Lewis Nordan read some of his stuff there. But I had it in my head that the place had closed up. I certainly didn't realize they still had their reading series going. Besides, trips to Oakland are always confounded by parking hassles.

Ultimately I felt obligated to go see Jimmy Cvetic do his thing because a friend of mine had recently put together a concise collection of his work, and he was making some efforts to publicize it. I had the chance to skim over some of the guy's poems in rough draft form. I was intrigued enough by the working class realism of the writing to impulsively agree to buy a copy of the book whenever it came out. Cvetic 's long career with the Allegheny Police in Pittsburgh included a substantial stint as a homicide detective. He's seen a lot of the grittier side of local humanity, and has an ear for the street argot of the urban environment.

Cvetic has recently had hip surgery, but that didn't keep him from soldiering through a pained reading of a good chunk of material from "Secret Society of Dog". The title refers to his professional handle, given to him as he worked to keep our streets safe from killers. He didn't shy away from including some of the more extreme experiences he had in the pursuit of criminals. Sure, there was a healthy dose of irreverence in his tone and a fair amount of humor to leaven the darker themes... but Cvetic included some notes of intense melancholy as well. He's a genuine tough guy whose not afraid to share his heart with his audience.

It's amazing that a guy as active in his community as Cvetic can remain relatively anonymous on the local scene. Along with hosting the reading series at Hemingway's for several years, he has invested much of his post-retirement efforts and energies in working with young at-risk men in the boxing ring (with the Western Pennsylvania Police Athletic League) . Indeed he's promoted a number of fight events and mentored local celebrities including Paul Spadafora and Monty Meza Clay. Yet he still finds time to drop the street smarts on the page. I enjoyed his writing enough to purchase a copy of his poetry collection, just as promised.

And I had enough fun to consider attending poetry readings in the future.

Reading Out Loud.

c. David Grim (taken 10/24/10)

One of the things I've really grown to love about being a father is reading to my son. He crawls up on my lap and stretches out, and I narrate story after story until his patience wears thin. E.'s only about three years old, so I'm impressed when he sits for multiple books. The benefits are not limited to whatever cognitive development he gets from attending to this practice. It encourages his curiosity and imagination, and heightens his observational skills. He becomes habituated to books. And he seems to genuinely enjoy the intimacy of hanging out with his father on a big comfy armchair.

Although I know that he would often choose television over hearing me read, I make it a point to put ourselves in situations that favor books instead of the tube. We go to our favorite coffeehouses and hope for the availability of our favorite seats. I tote around a huge army surplus rucksack filled with his portable library (along with a selection of his toys). I shop for his books at garage sales, rummage sales, and Half-Priced Books, and thus he already has several decent-sized shelves full of literary gems. I just rotate the stuff in our travel bag, hoping against hope that he doesn't request one we've left at home.

Sometimes E. makes me read a title repeatedly and I groan just a bit before appreciating that he has found something he really likes. The other night we went through "Save Brave Ted" several times in a row, and if anyone reading this is aware of this interactive adventure, he/she will realize how monotonous this could be. Still I end up loving every minute of it. E. tends to like when we choose something that allows for his active participation as well. And of course that is extremely entertaining for me, as a Dad who finds everything his son says amusing and even adorable. Possibly we end up annoying our neighbors sipping their lattes... but (selfishly perhaps) I don't really care.

It's a shame that modern technology has replaced the intimacy of reading to each other aloud. Likely the only opportunity most will have to engage in this activity will be with their pre-literate children. Can you imagine a group of guys getting together and reading their favorite passages to each other? Surely they'd be in for some ridicule once discovered by their contemporaries. Even many couples would likely stare at you vacantly if you suggested they could find stimulation in sharing a book. Yet I feel that in not "getting it", these people are missing out on a truly special opportunity.

As for me, I'm going to continue reading to my kid as long as he'll allow me to. When the time finally (but inevitably) comes when he wants to be by himself with a book, I'm going to be a little sad. Until then you can find me speaking in strange voices in between sips of my coffee drink a few times a week at the local cafe.

Here are some of E.'s favorites (so far):

Eric Carle, "Brown Bear, Brown Bear, What Do You See?"

Esphyr Slobodkina, "Caps for Sale"

Pat Hutchins, "Goodnight, Owl!"

Laura Numeroff, "If You Give a Moose a Muffin"

Kurt Futterer, "Emile"

Charise Mericle Harper, "When Randolph Turned Rotten"

Jack Tickle, "The Very Busy Bee"

Tracy McGuinness, "Bad Cat"

Julie Aigner-clark, "Baby Einstein: Jane's Animal Expedition"

Antoinette Portis, "Not a Box"

Tomi Ungerer, "Snail, Where are You?"

Lane Smith, "Pinocchio, the Boy: Incognito in Collodi"

Pittsburgh Weekend Art Events: 11/19-20/10.

c. David Grim (taken 10/31/10)

Friday

It's that time of year again- the Pittsburgh Center for the Arts is celebrating its Artist of the Year. Brian Dean Richmond has been a familiar face to anyone who's been on the Pittsburgh arts/music scene for the past couple of decades. Now you have a chance to understand the full scope of his creative output.

I've mostly associated Richmond with some of the best local bands of recent history- The Johnsons and The Working Poor among them... what I didn't know was that he is a prolific visual artist as well. Over the years I've seen him out, and he once shocked me by buying an unsolicited beer for me at Gooski's (I have no idea why). Still I've never had a conversation with him. I'm sure I've seen a few of his short films at Film Kitchen over the years, but I haven't really paid close attention to his paintings. Now I'll have the chance to remedy that (5:30-8PM, $5). Alongside Richmond, Gregory Witt will be honored as Emerging Artist of the Year.

If you make it downtown during the (newly-copyrighted) Light Up Night, stop in at the Space Gallery (812 Liberty Ave.) for a group show curated by Ally Reeves, with the rather unwieldly title "Scale: Aesthetic Turbulence and the Search for Lifestyle Panacea”. Artists featured in the show include Bill Daniel, Dana Bishop-Root, Derk Wolmuth, Teresa Foley, Gordon Kirkwood, Heidi Tucker, Jon Rubin and Caleb Gamble. The reception runs from 6-9PM.

And WildCard in Lawrenceville has turned over their walls to Kim Fox. She's made screen-printed box frames of her illustrations. The show is called "Prints Charming" and focuses on domestic and other pleasant themes. For free refreshments, show up at the store (4209 Butler Street) between 7-9PM.

Sunday

I wouldn't normally do this, but I'd like to mention Bobby Porter's wake at Kopec's
Corner in Lawrenceville (3523 Penn Ave, 9PM). I knew Porter, iconic frontman for the Thin White Line. He was a friendly guy with a large spirit and a lot of talent. Thanks, Bill D. for memorializing him in the City Paper this week.

Who is Mikhail Kalishnokov?

c. David Grim (taken 11/14/10)

I've never been all that interested in firearms. If I'm forced to take a position on something like the 2nd Amendment, I'll usually just state my belief that citizens should be allowed to arm themselves. But I do believe that government (both local and national) should retain the authority to regulate weapons. I'd rather that people keep their guns at home, and I am generally against concealed weapons of any type. If you have a good reason to carry a pistol, then you shouldn't have any resistance to making that fact obvious to everyone.

I'm certainly not in favor of folks toting around automatic rifles. The only valid reason to have an M-16 or an AK-47 is for purposes of armed struggle. So if you own one, then that must be what you are considering. Regardless it doesn't impress me. Any idiot can save up and acquire one on the black market. It doesn't make you special. I'm certainly no fetishist. And that's why I really had no idea what Mikhail Kalishnikov meant to the development of violence in the last century. I guess I might have made some connection to the military issue Soviet-era rifle if pressed. But maybe not.

Anyway, it turns out that this former Russian Army officer is actually still alive. He lives an unassuming life at the foot of the Urals. People from all over the world remember him, and try to contact him. In fact many parents have even named their children after his invention. I learned all of this in the book "Gomorrah" by Roberto Saviano. It tells the story of the Camorra, which is a loose association of clans, kind of like the Costra Nostra mafia in Sicily. But these organized crime outfits are situated in Naples, Italy on the mainland. Apparently they are completely ruthless, and are responsible for rampant international corruption and heinous violence.

In Saviano's book, he tells the story of a white collar Camorrista who has one great wish- to travel to the former Soviet Union and meet Kalishnikov. He gains entry and brings a gift of fancy Buffalo brand mozzarella cheese. They break bread together and sip vodka, and the visitor even gets a glimpse of the very first prototype of the AK-47. Reportedly Kalishnikov relishes the attention he receives. In fact he keeps a prominent collection of photographs of the little namesakes mentioned above. Throughout the world his fanatics are eager to make a connection with this "great man". Yet he comes off in the account as a banal functionary who was fortunate enough to do something of great import.

What Kalishnokov achieved is nothing short of atrocity. He developed a weapon that is portable, lightweight, and easy to clean and operate. It has democratized the business of killing, and thus led to uncountable deaths. His invention is the preferred tool of terrrorists, criminals, and bullies throughout the world. Additionally, a number of genocidal rampages owe their success to the AK-47. And none of this seems to phase the man himself. As Saviano measures him, he is the "man of the market: he does what he has to do to win, and the rest is none of his concern." Except unlike a "great Capitalist", he developed his product for a socialist nation, and thus has nothing to show for his achievement but refracted glory. And a tsunami of blood.

The Butler Institute of American Art.

c. David Grim (taken 11/14/10)

On a lark a couple of friends and I decided to drive to Youngstown, Ohio to see a bunch of Ronnie Wood's paintings. While I have been known to enjoy a Rolling Stones song now and again, I have never been a fan of their mid-career rhythm guitarist. That might be because I don't really like any of the albums released after the departure of Mick Taylor. I don't know if it's fair to lay the blame at Wood's feet, but by the mid-70's the Stones were headed full-on into their cheesy destiny. perhaps it was just the times.

But anyway I had nothing else that I wanted to do on a gloomy Sunday afternoon and I decided to drive to the Butler Institute of American Art and check out the scene (apparently the very first American exhibition of "the artist's" work). Fortified by talk and good cheer, we arrived a bit dazed by road-head and espresso, linked up with the rest of our party and milled about. It didn't take too long to find the Wood exhibit. There was a sign at the front stairwell directing our way.

To be brutally honest, I like Ronnie Wood's paintings just about as much as I like the Woods-era Stones. He's painted what I suspect he considers iconic images of his bandmates. In one particularly unfortunate work, he's depicted what looks like Mick J. taking Keith from behind while the latter swoons through one of his solos, a goofy ecstatic grin plastered across the lead singer's mug. Other selections contain similar straightforward depictions of former rock-and-roll glory. The ability is there, but there is simply nothing about the work that compels me to stand in front of it for any substantial length of time.

Meanwhile a series of early drawings shows the early promise Wood had as a comics artist before he fell in with the hedonism of England's most famous rockers. If you must go see this show before it's taken down, make it a point to check out the small enclosed glass cases in the side room. Any hints of Wood's creative talents are evident in those pieces. Still, my disinterest in the main act left much time for me to wander through the galleries and check out other stuff.

I've been in a lot of regional art museums, and as far as these go the Butler Institute is solid if not exceptional. There is a nice variety of stuff, representing most of the major movements of 20th Century art. We had a lot of fun checking out the gallery of holograms and other visual trickery, although I wouldn't characterize that work as "great art". Overall this was a worthwhile destination as a day trip from Pittsburgh, but I wouldn't cross the country solely for the likes of what's included at the Butler. However there are plenty of sights of abandonment and degradation in Youngstown, and I'd consider returning to shoot some of that.

Heard in the Workplace.

c. David Grim (taken 10/31/10)

There's usually not a lot of belly-laughs to be found in a full work day of department meetings. I don't expect to be entertained. The best I can usually ask for is to find enough of interest to keep me awake. To be honest today wasn't even that bad. There was plenty of insight into the current state of the profession, and I realized that I could look forward to the impending shifts bolstered by a sense of my own competence and ability. And I even got a few hearty chuckles along the way.

I had noticed that our first presenter was sporting some sort of medal around his neck, over top of his necktie. It was pretty gaudy, so I naturally wondered what he was thinking with that strange accessory. After awhile he chose to explain what the thing represented, but I believe he probably stepped over some kind of line by repeatedly assuring us that he wasn't a "Special Olympian". Now don't get me wrong- his insistence made me laugh... still I suspect it wasn't his intention to amuse me in the way that he did. I appreciated the situation in the same way I might enjoy a particularly embarrassing Larry David moment. However, he never should have returned to that well again.

Then another colleague shared a catch-phrase that our co-worker (not the same one mentioned above) used to be famous for. He used to say (quite often) that people have three basic needs- food, shelter, and someone to blame. Not only is that entertaining, but there is definitely a certain truth embedded in the quip. The world of work is fraught with opportunities to draw attention to ourselves. What we so often find ourselves looking for is deflection. That kind of thing doesn't stop when we graduate high school.