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Friday evening I made my way to the Sanitary Fill Company (aka the dump)
in south San Francisco for the closing party of Isis Rodriguez and Nicole
Repack's art installation Casa Dulce. Created as part of the
SFC's artist-in-residence program, the two women were encouraged to
turn items salvaged from the garbage into art. My personal favorite was
a dressing table inlaid with a patchwork of denim and topped by a vanity
painted with their own interpretation of The Two Fridas. I also
loved their bedspread of discarded Giants baseball cards and the strong
influence of graffiti art throughout their work. In another section of
the warehouse Jon Rolston had assembled an impressive array of found
objects into his own narrative entitled "Careers in Creative Writing". I
had to snicker when I spotted an evolve.com coffee mug in the jumble. As
I left the party I peeked into an adjoining section of the transfer
station where the piles of stinky garbage were awaiting their fate. Sea
gulls glared back at me and dared me to mess with their treasures.
Saturday evening I received a last-minute invitation from Dan and Carol to
accompany them to see The Matrix Reloaded, and I spontaneously
agreed to see it even though it would be my second time. I don't feel
the need to write any sort of review for this film, as the interweb is
already fit to burst with opinion that is certainly more knowledgeable
about its philosophy and obscure references than I could ever hope to
be. However, I will say that I enjoyed it more this time because I
completely disengaged my brain and revelled in it on a purely visual
level. The visual of Carrie-Anne Moss's shiny shiny boots, for
instance. And I found JD's name in the credits!
After the movie Dan and Carol lured me back to their place to watch
Laputa and to pet their Very Nice Cat Oprah. I decided to do this
instead of attending the party Kitchen Sink was throwing to
celebrate the publication of their third issue, so to compensate I picked
up a copy of said issue at my local independent bookseller the next
day. Now I'm feeling a twinge of regret for not making it out to see
Deerhoof and Xiu Xiu play at the party. Because the magazine itself,
though housed in a shiny pretty binding, just isn't that great. Better
content, less pretension, please. I know I know, pot, kettle, black.
My Memorial Day holiday consisted of some heavy-duty lazing around the
house, but I did manage to watch a couple of DVDs. The first, Le
Million, was a very silly French comedy about a man who wins enough
money in the lottery to settle all of his many debts, if only he could
track down where he left his ticket. The cast had a delightful tendency
to burst into song at any given moment. The second film, Black
Narcissus, was another creature entirely, the story of five nuns sent
to minister to the natives high in the Himalayas. They all slowly start
to lose it in one way or another, and the film artfully calls into
question the ideals of missionary work as well makes you wonder whose
souls really need saving. Even if the story weren't engrossing (which it
was), Black Narcissus would be worth seeing for the cinematography
alone. The colors blew me away.
Sanitary Fill Company's Artist-in-Residence Program
Nicole
Repack and Isis Rodriguez
The Matrix
Reloaded
Kitchen
Sink
Deerhoof
Xiu
Xiu
Lunchboxing
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Heidi J. De Vries
