THE ENGLISH 11/18/22

I recommend seeing The English, a strangely surreal six-part Western series on Amazon and BBC, beautifully acted by Emily Blunt - the title’s English woman - who has come to this dry, expanse of land that is the American frontier in the 1890s where the rule of law is discarded, tossed into the air to fly among the vultures. There are many flashbacks whereby time and space are dislodged which can be disconcerting and often vertiginous. But these vignettes eventually coalesce - with deep poignancy and desolation.

Emily Blunt’s character,  Lady Cornelia Locke’s rarefied life in England is suddenly and violently assaulted propelling her to journey to the “new world” on a mission of revenge. There are many cameo roles with wonderful actors popping up throughout the series but Blunt commands our gaze and our heart. She appears to be a beautiful innocent toting a bagful of cash, but we discover early on that she has the ability and confidence to unleash carnage on her enemies.

Chaske Spencer, a Native American actor plays the other lead, Sgt. Eli Whipp, a Pawnee scout who recently left the US Army in Oklahoma and is traveling to Nebraska in order to legally “stake a land claim” in his ancestral home.  A harrowing incident brings Cornelia and Chaske together and they begin to travel alongside one another developing a relationship that delicately balances that tensile line between the cliched stoic silent hero and the damsel in distress. Their connection eventually becomes one of understanding and wonder in their very affinity. 

In the many subplots which expose the underlying cruelty, greed, and racism imposed by the myriad “old world” settler’s acquisition of the wild beauty and bleak dirt of the terrain, we glimpse the roots of America’s infirmity. Wresting power from the native tribes, retribution, hatred of the “other”, and a belief in extreme individualism were as rampant then as it is today. 

 Throughout the series, I was captivated by the startlingly original clipped dialogue which translated into the mystery of poetry. Words are often terse and stilted launching visual images. The silence of the sprawling landscape echoes the silence of communication. This is a love story with the knowledge that it is ill-fated and forever immutable.

PANDEMIC FATIGUE 8/14/22

 

Self-Portrait in Isolation, oil/alkyd/wood, 48x36in. 2020

The pandemic is not over. I am still isolating in my literal brick “temple,“ and yet the world outside is fatigued by the fear of getting ill, the fear of infecting others, or the ferment of callousness. My life, my appearance, and my trusted routines have been strikingly altered since March 2020.

In the early days before the word “pandemic” was ever mentioned, I attended gallery openings and the Armory show where I caught a very mild, asymptomatic  (at the time) case of what turned out to be Covid 19. One week later, in mid-March of 2020, I started to complain that food tasted very bland - and one night soon after, I read an article in the NY Times claiming that lack of taste and smell were  

symptoms of Covid. I frantically ran around the studio grabbing and opening up the most pungent of my art-making chemicals - turpentine, varnishes, etc. sniffing while inhaling deeply and not smelling anything. I got intensely anxious and since it was too late to call a Dr. I went to bed, had a very low fever, and ended up shivering violently throughout the night. The shakiness had as much to do with the dread and uncertainty of a virus that we all slowly began to realize was rapidly engulfing the planet.

When I called my Dr. and told him I had a temperature of 100.3 another symptom of this disease - he said do NOT go to the ER to be tested - stay home - Hospitals were too dangerous. Covid’s unknowns were like a shroud covering our usual havens of refuge and healing. Within a week I was feeling better - no respiratory symptoms, or tiredness so I mistakenly thought it was over.

Three months later I began to get what is now termed Long Haul symptoms. My full curly hair got very thin dismantling my narcissistic sense of self more — and to this day never grew back; not for lack of trying every new hair serum that I could search for online. My heart was skipping beats, my blood pressure was erratic and I would feel enervated at one moment and then slowly regain strength. I had spells of light-headedness and dizziness particularly after eating (post-prandial hypotension) and I lost about 18 lbs in two weeks. 

I filled up spray bottles with diluted bleach and water to protect my husband from Covid; we both did not go outside very much, except to my cardiologist who prescribed every possible cardiac test which all turned out to be “normal.” I did not go into NYC or see good friends and did not teach since the facility was closed.  One of my students bought me groceries every week - a kindness that I will never forget as I vigorously scrubbed down every item. Since I was never officially tested for Covid, I finally went 8 months later and had an antibody test and the results were positive and then had 2 more tests to make sure - all turned out positive for Covid-19 antibodies. It felt good to be vindicated from all those Doctors who lifted their eyebrows skeptically when  I mentioned “long haul” syndrome.

And then strangely in 2021, my husband got very ill from unknown causes with severe weakness, diarrhea, and eventually kidney failure (which was resolved) and was hospitalized 7 times in the past 2 years including one for a mild heart attack. I learned to deal with the medical establishment and one time it ended up with me yelling, gesticulating - hands flying around my face -  at one particular Doctor while a group of astonished nurses surrounded us in the dull green hallway as if we were in the midst of a boxing ring. One good thing came out of the hospitalizations -  I am no longer afraid of going to the Emergency Room or calling 9-11.

This year was my turn to be sick and I am still recuperating from an aberrant bout with early onset sepsis and then a month of an antibiotic-induced malady.  There have been other medical scares but I finally feel that my life as lived -which seems so long ago - might be viable and the experience of looking at art and going to galleries - a profound imperative filling up the gash of emptiness of my being is a real possibility. 

By the way, throughout these months I have always painted; the process being my deliverance from deep despair.

SOUTHLAND ON HBO MAX - 7/19/22

For the past two weeks, I have been watching all five seasons of SOUTHLAND - a series that ran from 2009-2013; a psychologically incisive cop show on HBO, focusing on policing in a run-down gang-infested area of Los Angeles. We are shown the raw, often brutish nature of being an officer and the magnitude of quick-fire decisions that are made by men and women in uniform fraught with crushing apprehension that can result in taking a life or losing your own. Racism, hate, and negligence in moments of crisis are critically exposed revealing who you really are. Know thyself is tested when you confront life’s desperate moments.

 This show does not romanticize law enforcement but is a fairly realistic portrayal of the humanity or lack of in the daily tensions and dangerous interactions the police have with the populace - those who they are sworn to "protect" and how each character is altered by on-the-street experiences deeply affecting their internal values.  We are privy to the "boots" (new recruits) starting out with an innocent idealism that slowly becomes ossified and eroded by fear, enmity,S and occasionally the beauty of an embrace of tenderness. 

The acting is superb with Regina King as one of the Detectives who ambivalently grapples with motherhood. She is excellent as Lydia Adams - the most empathetic person in SOUTHLAND with a fierce desire to shelter victims of heinous crimes, particularly women and children. Another performance is by Michael Cudlitz as Officer John Cooper - a stoic, gay - not “out” to his comrades but “in” and accepting of himself - a proud man who has been on the force for over 20 years and is highly respected by his peers. His training of the younger up-and-coming recruits slowly unmasks his wrenching inner struggles and his decency. Officer John Cooper rarely smiles, but his expressive face affirms a devotion to his profession as well as the cynicism that accompanies it and cannot be escaped. Another one of my favorite actors was Shawn Hatosy who plays Officer Sammy Bryant - a hot-tempered, yet shy and awkward cop - one who uses his physicality to excess - but his delicacy and fragility are palpable. 

There are some serious omissions to SOUTHLAND - we do not get any insight into the victims’ and perpetrators’ lives as we move on to the next episode. This is a series that unapologetically spotlights the Hollywood police department in Southland - a nickname for the greater Los Angeles area. I definitely recommend it so we too can condemn and praise those who devote their lives and collect pensions to “protect” we the people.

PASSING 1/5/22

 Just watched director and writer Rebecca Hall's outwardly hushed film, PASSING on Netflix; a movie that proceeds at a seemingly slow pace, appropriately filmed in shades of black and white punctuated by moments of piercing clarity. There is a lot to contemplate - layers of constricted definitions that burst open when penetrated by the light of self-awareness, and at the same time often remain sequestered by fear and the comfort of routine. This is a beautifully complex film with boundaries that shatter who we think we are.

Beautifully acted by Tessa Thompson as Irene Redfield- a black woman who lives a comfortable social life in a brownstone with her Doctor husband (Andre Holland) and two young boys in NYC's Harlem of the 1920s. There is often a feeling of aloofness and desolation whenever the camera focuses on her face indicating uneasiness about her life. She is kind and a loving mother but also wants the outside world to not penetrate her cocoon of illusions. Irene also has a maid named Zu (Ashley Ware) who she treats with uncaring remoteness - behaving similarly to the way matriarchs had behaved to their ancestral servants.

One day Irene is shopping and seeks refuge from the glaring NYC heat in a Hotel and sees a childhood friend who is momentarily unrecognizable at a nearby table talking with a man who turns out to be her husband, (Alexander Skarsgard.) This sensual, blonde woman is the vivacious Clare Kendry (Ruth Negga) who is passing as "white", having "erased" her former identity.

PASSING has no easy answers to questions of race and identity. Tessa becomes enlightened observing Clare returning to and embracing the beauty and strength of black culture. The movie has a mysterious longing; jazz and a trumpeter's music is woven through the film creating a pattern of pathos that makes it even more commanding.