Dear Reader,
Whether you are a loyal Urban Molecule reader or passing by for the first time, I’d like to thank you for taking interest in my creation. Urban Molecule hit the webosphere over a year ago, and throughout 2008 the project experienced tremendous growth. I am happy to say it still has much potential.
What began as a webzine of urban-influenced lit and art is showing signs of evolution. We are all citizens of the world and we each do our special part in mankind’s quest for progress. Later this year, the Molecule will become a new kind of public space, a new conversation. Let’s face it: we are in dire need of new and enlightening discussions, in need of thought-provoking debate if we hope to progress as a species.
Writers and artists, I feel, are key contributors to this conversation because they create, and as creators they possess a truly unique influence.
You don’t have to be a writer or an artist to be a part of this new collective. I only ask that you come to Urban Molecule with an open mind, to think, to discover your strengths, your passions, and to take ownership of your actions. Post your thoughts, share our discussions with friends and colleagues, and every once in a while try to look at the world through someone else’s eyes.
While the new site particulars are still in process (the look, feel and navigation will be changing a bit), editorial for 2009 is solid. Your favorite columns and our THINKTANK Interview Series will still be a big part of the UM experience, and we have a number of timely conversations that will re-introduce the project with fervor. I hope you will be inspired by these important discussions and invite you to leave comments and to open up new discussions about your artwork, your writing, and your passions and thoughts about culture and society.
Urban Molecule is also currently building communities on Facebook and LinkedIn. I encourage you to join the conversation there, too.
Our lasting objective: build a glorious society, one mind at a time. I look forward to this next step in weaving a formidable collective of thinkers and doers committed to social progress.
Very best,
Christopher
Filed under: art, community, issue updates, letter from the editor, web updates | Leave a Comment
Tags: 2009, artist, collective, column, community, conversation, culture, discussion, facebook, forum, interview, linkedin, reader, relaunch, society, summer, think tank, thinker, Urban Molecule, writer
new concept rolls out in 2009
Urban Molecule had a good run in 2008. Come Summer, we’ll be something else. The new Molecule is going to be much more than literature, much more than art. We’re bringing public space back.
Progression, evolution, metamorphosis, call it what you will. We think of it as a new kind of conversation. And we’re gonna get you talking.
Get the buzz. Friend us on Facebook. Search “Urban Molecule.”
Filed under: web updates | 1 Comment
Tags: 2009, concept, relaunch, Urban Molecule, webzine
Walking with Angels
WALKING WITH ANGELS
Emanuel Xavier
for Lindsay
AIDS
knows the condom wrapped penetration
of strangers and lovers, deep inside
only a tear away from risk
knows bare minimum t-cell level counts,
replacing intoxicating cocktails
with jagged little pills
knows how to avoid a cure thanks to war
how to keep pharmaceutical corporations
and doctors in business
AIDS
knows the weight loss desired
by supermodels,
knows the fearless meaning of a friends genuine kiss or hug
converts non-believers to religion
and spirituality
comprehends loneliness
values the support of luminaries
smiles at the solidarity
of single red ribbons
knows to dim the lights
to elude detection
how to shame someone into hiding
from the rest of the world
to be grateful for the gift of clothing
and shelter,
to remain silent, holding back the anger and frustration
AIDS
knows that time on earth
is limited for all of us
that using lemons to make lemonade is better than drinking the Kool-Aid
but no matter how much you drink
you are always left dehydrated
knows working extensive hours
to pay hospital bills,
the choice of survival
or taking pleasure in what is left of life
knows the solid white walls
you want to crash through
and tear down
the thoughts of suicide
in the back of your head
AIDS
knows the prosperous could be doing more with their wealth
and that everyone still thinks it is a deserving fate- for gays,
drug addicts, prostitutes,
and the unfortunate children of such
born into a merciless world of posh handbags and designer jewelry
knows how to be used as another percentage to profit politicians
knows it doesn’t only affect humans
but animals too, without bias
-providing fodder for art and something to be left behind
if there is a God
he has disregarded our prayers
left his angels behind to journey along with us
-none of us knowing exactly
where we are headed
© 2008 by Emanuel Xavier.
Used by permission of the author.
Filed under: community, poetry | Leave a Comment
Tags: emanuel xavier, friends, hiv, lgbt community, poem, poet, remembrance, world aids day, writing
Future Tense; Past Tenser
by Perry Brass
"Douglas" by William Crist
In the last couple of weeks, I’ve read God-knows how many pieces either in the print press or the online one, all talking about the strange, crazy, unexpected financial mess we’re in—unfortunately (and usually) written by too many so-called experts who’ve had their heads up their butts for the last 20 years. I mean, really, like no one had an inkling this was all coming? No one had an inkling that crummy three bedroom bungalows in very crummy parts of L.A. were going to hit $1.1 mil; that burnt-out swaths of Brooklyn without subway service were going to break ground on new condos starting in the “affordable and friendly range” of one and a half mil?
My favorite was reading in the NY Times Sunday Real Estate section (nicknamed “porno for space addicts”) about a young man who worked as a desk clerk for an airline, who had just scored his first NY apartment, and now, at the age of 27, was chewing on a $750,000 mortgage. (Gasp!) I mean, I knew things were a bit inflated, but no one questioned how a guy who was making, say, $45,000 a year, could handle a mortgage that would take him about 80 years to pay off?
No one said, “Gee, isn’t this odd?”
No one said it exactly the same way that no one questioned why more people now play the national lottery known as the Stock Market than any other form of gambling, because, frankly, they have no choice. In other words, a strange thought started occurring to a large number of young people (and not so young people) around 1980, just as Ronald Reagan, the Great Communicator, charmed his way into the White House: Namely, they had no future.
Unlike for their parents (and not a whole lot of them, by the way), the idea of retiring under either Social Security (known as the Big Joke), or a regular government or union pension became unthinkable. In other words, they were high-flying out there in the big world with no net beneath them. This was scary. Insecurity itself. This was why Valium (one of the first “anti-anxiety” drugs) became known as Vitamin V.
People were popping them like M & Ms.
Suddenly a new group of young people came along known as Yuppies who were playing the American game faster and faster, because not playing it became no choice. You couldn’t Turn On, Tune In, and Drop Out, like Timothy Leary advised in the 70s, because there was less and less to drop out to. In fact, the idea of dropping out became tinged with nostalgia, the same kind of nostalgia that now colors our Mafia family fantasies like “The Sopranos”: if the only true family you can create are Ba-da-bing guys from New Jersey who think concrete looks good in a tuxedo, what’s so bad about that?
At least this family takes care of each other. In the real world now, there is no bottom at the bottom.
And that’s where the dots start. We are now in a situation which makes the old Mafia protection racket look benign. You may remember this: Big Anthony told ya that if youse did not pay up, his pals would kick your face in. So Anthony was sellin’ you protection against Anthony. In the same way, our Real Estate and Wall Street shell games have been selling protection against themselves, since there ain’t no other game in town except them.
It all began with the fact that if you did not find some part of the National Game to protect yourself with (either real estate, Wall Street, or a combination of the two) you’d be penniless fast; it went on raising the ante with both (or all three) situations until the cards eventually fell in; and now it continues with the Bail Outs, in which the foxes are not only asked to guard the hen houses, but are being fed the hens while they watch it. However, there is no alternative, because who else knows the hen house as well as the foxes do?
I mean, every fox has to keep eating, so he wants the hen houses secure, too.
This has meant that for the last decade +, a huge number of people, sadly, have been living with the “fact” that their home is their only security. It has also worked like a giant credit card that they can use to finance their futures, their kids’ futures, even their health. It only gets scarier as John McCain talks about “choice” and “portability,” and Obama keeps edging closer to the Right, because the “choice” (truth be told) does not allow a real choice.
So we have this situation, and it is scary. And it all started when a lot of young people (young at least then) began to realize: “I have seen the future, and it is a big hole.”
The question is, how are we going to fill it?
The old joke always comes to mind: you borrow a $1000 from the bank, it’s your problem; you borrow a $1,000,000, it’s the bank’s problem. So a lot of us have been borrowing that mil, and reborrowing it, and reborrowing it. In fact, the mortgage-derivative engine has been, to a harrowing degree, running this country, stoking it with this fantasy amount of cash that became very real for a small number of players, and now, like the Coyote chasing the Road Runner, we are suddenly waking up and realizing . . . there’s nothing under us. This does not make the future look very good.
Ah, the past. . .
I’m afraid it wasn’t all that marvelous either. I am one of those few people who believe that the Golden Moments of Yesterday appear that way mostly through the halcyon lenses of nostalgia. A perfect example of that can be seen in a new exhibit called “Woman of Letters.” The woman here is Irène Nèmirovsky (pictured below), a Russian-Jewish novelist whose affluent, worldly family was forced to leave Kiev after the Bolshevik take over and eventually ended up in France, just in time for the Nazi invasion. In the meanwhile, Nèmirovsky has become a flourishing novelist, and had converted to Catholicism. Although she never denied her Jewish origins, and proclaimed herself to be a Jew, she still considered her Jewish heritage to be rather a quaint holdover from the past, something that she should never have been held to. So, in all truth, she “never acted Jewish.” This did not stop the Nazi’s from circling her in their noose francaise, and despite various machinations from highly placed friends, who valued her contributions to French culture, she was deported and later murdered in Auschwitz, along with her husband, Michael Epstein.
Nèmirovsky’s name would have completely disappeared if it had not been for the publication in 2004 of Suite Francaise, her masterful novel of the German occupation of France, that had existed for more than sixty years as only a first draft in a closely written notebook, discovered by her daughters in an old family trunk. Suite Francaise has since been translated into 28 languages, and is described as one of the few true eye-witness accounts of this occupation in literature. Its discovery and publication has been compared to that of Ann Frank’s diary.
But it is not Ann Frank. That is the strange rub: Suite Francaise is beautifully, sometimes even savagely written, but it never quite departs from a certain coldness of viewpoint, from a kind of rigidity and fear that holds it together, and it leaves the reader at its end wanting something more. And that something, naturally enough, stems directly from that fact that Nèmirovsky had planned this novel to be a first part of a trilogy or even quartet of books. And also, it’s a first draft. Simple as that.
But another facet comes out to the reader, even if you don’t know Nèmirovsky’s whole story: that her sympathies are often not with the French, who behave with every stereotype of themselves (their meanness, provincialism, shallowness, close-mindedness, biting anti-Semitism, ruthlessness, and sexual wantonness), but with the Germans, who come off as capable of real honor, sensitive, and naturally wounded by the spiteful attitudes of their captives. Examples are bourgeois upper-class Frenchmen who will do anything to maintain their class superiority; a kind-hearted French priest who is pitilessly drowned by his young orphan charges as he sacrifices for them; a French antiques “queen” who in the midst of the war cares only about his collection of Sèvres china; an attractive, artistically-sensitive German officer billeted in the town house of an unhappily-married, well-bred Frenchwoman who secretly yearns for him; the jealousy of a thuggish French farmer who murders a young German whom he suspects has been making eyes at his wife. And nowhere in this narrative, except somewhere offstage in rumor, are there Jews. They’ve been expunged from the landscape. And that fact is now coming out to tinge how we see Suite Francaise, because the truth was Nèmirovsky was an openly, unapologetically, self-hating Jew.
In fact, she could not understand why this horror was happening to her: she had real sympathies not so much for the Nazis as for the German culture that the Nazis glorified. She and her husband regularly socialized with Nazi occupation officers; she characterized Jews as being money-driven, or prone to Socialism, both qualities she despised. And as an artist, she wanted to represent high culture, something that the Germans, even the German masses, held closer to themselves than anyone. How could they be rounding her up, someone who just happened to be of Jewish origins but was no longer a Jew?
She could easily be described as the Roy Cohn of her period and setting; Cohn, from a wealthy New York Jewish background who was secretly gay, hated gay men except as fleeting sexual objects, and died of AIDS while constantly denying having it. He was Sen. Joseph McCarthy’s protégé, pulled together the spying case against the Rosenbergs, and voraciously strove to hound gay employees out of government service, especially in the Army and the State Department. His feelings about being gay and Jewish were at best parenthetical—an “I just happened to be” attitude, if or when he ever acknowledged either group at all.
Back to the present.
I was at the opening last night for a show in which William Crist—one of my favorite artists—has taken part. The show is filled with beautiful things, but Bill Crist’s paintings really pop out and delight me. One woman said they remind her of Lucien Freud. My feeling is that they are fresher, less cynical, and more involving in their closeness to the real life of their subjects. Crist is an unabashed lover of the human figure, especially the male one. His predecessors were Eakins, Sargeant, and the Renaissance masters. His pictures draw you in because they involve themselves with the real life and stories of the subjects, not on an idealized, formalized basis, but in that literary idea that a picture contains a story within it: a spoken narrative within the very essence and feeling of the image. This is something you can’t fake, and Bill Crist never does. He should be a much better known artist than he is; the world needs to wake up to him.
So here we have the future (God, first!), the past, and the present—at least for this moment. One of life’s discoveries is that both the past and the future become open to interpretation: we actually see them only through the moving lens of the present, and where that lens settles its concentration at any time. We have a mounting financial crisis that has been in the making for close to twenty years; and a longer past haunted by fascism. But for this current brief intersection of time, I’d like to leave what I know of the naked truth in Bill Crist’s very knowing hands.
See works by William Crist at the MDH Fine Arts in Chelsea through November 15
233 West 19th Street | 917-364-8221
See “Woman of Letters” at The Museum of Jewish Heritage in lower Manhattan through March 22
Edmond J Safra Plaza, 36 Battery Place | 646-437-4202
Filed under: In the Writer's World | 4 Comments
The name “thefictionist” leaves just the right amount of mystique to make one wonder how devoted to fiction a writer can be before traditional borders are crossed. That said, Brooklynite Jillian Ciaccia has taken “tagging” to a whole new level. Intrigued with graffiti at a very young age, she’s used those images to evolve her art to a place most writers don’t find themselves much anymore: the streets.
This new form of guerrilla art has spread throughout Brooklyn like a silent storm, waiting for the tipping point that would make it an international phenomenon. You’ve probably passed some of her work already. Ciaccia has been reviving the seemingly mundane for at least three collections of short stories. Her supremely vivid accounts slow the cogs of the mind enough to inspire.
And inspire she has. Brooklyn’s MC Mintz (known simply as “the abstractionist”) has created a series of multi-media paintings based on Ciaccia’s work. Simply put: thefictionist and theabstractionist were meant to be together. In the latest UM interview, they never say whether their names were planned or coincidental, and the Molecule prefers to keep it that way. Much like their native borough, these two have taken a rich history and made it their own, burning a new consciousness in their wake.
Brooklyn Burning, Part 1: TheFictionist
UM: How long have you been writing?
JC: I’ve always been writing in some form or another. As a kid I wrote blues lyrics and music. Really. In college I found the short story and thought the form was perfect. It drops you in the middle of some action and takes you away before anything is concrete, but the point is made. It can be shocking, and you have to adjust your usual reading style with each story. You learn to read a certain way with each story. You have to adapt, kind of like living in Brooklyn. I was born here, so after 26 years I got used to having to learn about change.
UM: Brooklyn has been called the conscience of New York. How would you describe the Brooklyn writer’s community?
JC: There’s definitely a writer’s community here. The Internet brings everyone together, helps them meet up in bars and cafes. But I don’t mingle that much. I’m the weirdo pasting stories in construction sites and on spare tires in the street. I don’t like the traditional meet-up-and-talk-about-your-writing-and-figure-out-how-to-get-an-agent-to-sell-it. If other writers or artists want to meet up and actually DO something, that’d be great.
I write at night with a little bourbon. Or even at work during some downtime. You have to learn when to get your writing in.
UM: Tell us about your short story “Wine”.
JC: “Wine” covers the simple act of opening a bottle of Merlot, pouring it and taking a sip. Each moment is described biologically but with an artistic twist, and has some political undertones too. That always seems to sneak in, subtle. It’s a part of peculiarities.
UM: There seems to be a naming trend with your collections. How do the various titles correspond with the work each embodies?
JC: It’s a bit ridiculous. That’s why I like the trend and I’ll stick with it as long as I can. absurdities highlights the irrationality of everyday, using humor; repetitive actions in the workplace and at home, and everyday objects like a peeler are magnified. Most of the shorts in peculiarities are based on Roger-Pol Droit’s philosophical experiments, how the body reacts to the environment and how it functions. Monstrosities goes into the mechanical process of how modern day objects are made, like Nylon or even animal crackers. Though they sound straight forward, the collections are very visual. A journey.
UM: Tell us about “tagging”.
JC: I’ve always been interested in street art and graffiti. Growing up in Canarsie, Brooklyn it was always there on storefronts and subways, on delivery trucks and abandoned buildings. It’s great to see street expression evolve from bubble tags to witty, political commentary or watch how simple works in an urban landscape can evolve from spray paint into handmade posters. That’s what’s been happening on the street all over the world⎯and anyone can participate. I thought why not cross mediums and put words into the environment? To see how shocking it is to have white paper cut through all the city grime and see how the story interacts with walls, found objects and trash. It’s coming along great.
Interview continues below
UM: Where do you see yourself going with your writing? If money, resources and notoriety held no boundaries, where would you be and what would you be doing?
JC: That’s a nice thought [smiles]. I want to create as much as I can, use writing as a way to see and re-see the world. If I had a nice “bailout” like Wall Street got, I’d cash it and collaborate with as many artists as I could, across multiple mediums. It would be great to see what formed. I’d also give back to public schools and reinstate art and music classes.
UM: Any special connection between the city and your writing?
JC: I love the city. I love New York. I’m using it as much as possible, trying to make the opportunities work for me—tagging the streets and doing readings at venues or book fairs. Simply having the masses see the work and talk about it is amazing.
UM: What comes to mind when I say the word “bodies”?
JC: I think of something that can grow to enormous lengths, but shift and become really small. Something organic. Something you can examine as a whole and its parts. I guess it can really be anything.
Brooklyn Burning, Part 2: TheAbstractionist
a cross section of Fiction: Monstrosities (2008)—Below
4 x 5 ft
Oil on canvas, mixed media
UM: Let’s talk about “Cross Section of Fiction.” What materials did you use?
MM: The intent of the series was to juxtapose text and image, and to use the descriptiveness of thefictionist’s short stories to paint vivid imagery related to her works. These pieces are multimedia and use actual excerpts from the author’s notes along with oil paint and oil sticks to illustrate the more visual aspects of the work.
UM: Your work and the fictionist’s work are connected.
MM: These works contain actual notes used by thefictionist. Handwritten notes that she used to formulate and sketch out her ideas for her written short stories. These notes are juxtaposed within the composition of each of these paintings. All of the visual imagery is derivative of certain sections of particular stories in absurdities, peculiarities, and Monstrosities.
UM: Your inspiration?
MM: Thefictionist’s 3 short story books inspired this series. I thought that because she’s so descriptive with the written word, it would be quite provocative to translate that into the visual world. I sort of took the narratives and ran with it. Creating pieces that transcend the word and create almost a new meaning for the stories. As far as say favorite or inspiring artists, Dekooning has and always will be a personal favorite, the Dadaist artists, and in particular Hannah Hoch with her wonderful photo-montages that juxtapose text, image and social commentary. All of those things and my own thoughts and feelings inspired these works.
Interview continues below
UM: How is it for an artist living in Brooklyn? What do you have to say about DUMBO? The art scene there has picked up dramatically in the last 5 years.
MM: It’s interesting being in artist in one of the most competitive artistic cities in the world. It has almost become a “trendy” thing to say you’re an artist, since so many people now seem to claim the title. I pretty much have a little space in my apartment where I have my easels set up and access music. Whenever I feel inspired I can go in there and paint, create, draw. I’ve lived in NY my entire life. Going to art school in Buffalo, and then coming back to the city in ’99 to live and work.
As for being an artist, I wholeheartedly feel this is something I was born to do. I’ve been drawing, painting, creating my entire life. I have very early images of myself standing at an easel just enjoying drawing. I think having places like DUMBO is truly vital in keeping the art scene alive and healthy. Too often the “high” art is cooped up in some high ritzy area and that completely excludes a huge segment of the population that isn’t that opulent. We need places like DUMBO to balance out the effects of SoHo and other “high” art areas. Art should be about making art. Living, breathing and creating one’s art. Not about what your name is or what art school you went to.
UM: Have you seen the art scene change?
MM: I think now, primarily due to economic conditions, certainly it has changed. It’s oftentimes harder to sell work when most people are struggling to make ends meet. On the more positive side it’s great to see Street Art get more respectability, and now there are things like websites that can be a very useful tool in establishing an audience in places as far away as Korea, and websites are what I am around on a daily basis at work – hopefully that won’t ruin the art that’s produced. I really hope the positive stuff prevails because there are many talented people that deserve recognition.
UM: Describe your workspace.
MM: My workspace is quite simple, a small extra room in our apartment. But it’s my space. My easels are set up. The walls have some work hanging up on them and the floor is littered with paint tubes and oil sticks. I definitely think my work is connected to the city. I do see a very urban feel, especially in this particular series.
UM: What makes you high? Any words of wisdom for artists?
MM: What makes me high? I think it’s the anticipation of knowing that I am at completion with a painting that is amazing, and that I now can reach all types of people and create a dialogue with them. Making art and paintings just makes me happy. Everything from the first brushstroke to the actual feel of the oil paint on my hands is a truly transcendent experience for me.
Inspiration to others? Stay true to your art and who you are but never stop pushing yourself and learning. I am a firm believer in keeping myself well educated even though I’ve been out of school for quite some time now. Once you stop learning, then what are you really changing? Keep making your art no matter what the trend is or what anyone says. Art is so important to a culture. I believe that 100%.
UM: What comes to mind when I say the word “bodies”?
MM: To me the word “bodies” is a very vague term. It’s like an empty canvas. It can be taken literally or interpreted far more abstractly. It can be what you want it to be. It can be words. It can be photographs or paintings, or even sculpture. It can be two disparate things combined to create a hybrid. To me it can be as literal as a Dekooning painting of “Woman IV” or it can also be something completely more abstract, like Yves Klein’s “Blue Monochrome”, just voluminous like a body or bodies. Bodies are to me also very abstracted forms, shapes, colors, and lines. Something I also see in thefictionist’s written work.
“Wine” from thefictionist will be published later in the issue. Images courtesy J Ciaccia and MC Mintz.
Visit thefictionistonline.com and theabstractionist.net
Filed under: think tank interviews | 1 Comment
Tags: abstractionist, art, body, borough, brooklyn, collection, inspiration, interview, Jillian Ciaccia, journal, literary, mc mintz, mixed media, New York, series, short story, street art, tagging, The Fictionist, think tank, um, Urban Molecule, wine, writing
get out | The Art of Cocktailing
Founded by Campari and inspired by Campari’s century long commitment to the arts, House of Campari aspires to create experiences, inspire dialogue about contemporary visual arts and provide a platform for cutting- edge artists to share their passion. This summer and fall, House of Campari presents the “Art of Cocktailing” at bars and lounges throughout the U.S. The project is a partnership with SWINDLE magazine and features the artist David Weidman.
The “Art of Cocktailing” features a selection of four David Weidman prints that will be silk screened on canvas tote bags. Each silk screen is a unique and limited edition artwork that celebrates the spirit and art of printmaking.
Campari and SWINDLE magazine are pleased to present “The Art of Cocktailing” – the crossroads of art, culture and cocktailing.
Event Dates
October 30th, 2008
7-9 pm
Tailor, 525 Broome St.
November 6th , 2008
9-11PM
Gallery Bar , 120 Orchard St
November 13th, 2008
6-8PM
(Le) Poisson Rouge, 158 Bleecker St.
About the Artist
Born in 1921, David Weidman grew up in East Los Angeles and was a prominent artist in the advertising and animation studios in the ‘50s and ‘60s. Weidman’s acclaim, or simply his biggest connection to a more widespread culture, comes from his work on many popular animated series. While the characters on those series often bore appearances given to them by other artists, the scenery and atmosphere that surrounded those characters reflected Weidman’s vision. The endearing quirks of the backgrounds he drew seemed to speak more about Weidman himself-witty and colorful -than one might expect from a commissioned illustrator.
Filed under: art, community, events | Leave a Comment
Tags: art, broome street, campari, canvas, city, cocktail, david weidman, downtown, events, New York, screen, swindle, tote bag
body collective
Dear Reader,
From October to December the Molecule engages a new narrative. Welcome to the bodies issue. When we hear the word “bodies” most of us might think of the now infamous exhibition that takes “a phenomenal look at the phenomenon we call the body” — the one that uses real human bodies preserved in a process called “polymer preservation” so they won’t decay.
But since its inception, the exhibit has done more than just spark renewed interest in the human body; it’s taken the concept of ownership deeper into collective discourse. What happens to our bodies when we die? Not a simple matter of “donor” vs. “non-donor” anymore, is it? Cremation? Don’t count on it. Regardless of the potential human rights debacle surrounding the multi-million dollar spectacle, the work raises an interesting question: do you ever really own your body?
As we will begin to see in the near future – indeed, as we’ve already begun to see – the concepts of “private” and “public”, “individual” and “collective”, indeed the concept of “ownership” itself may shift considerably.
“Bodies” of course does not only refer to the weak, fragile, resilient vessels we call home. The Molecule describes its latest issue as the exploration of “the anatomy, physiology and philosophy of plastic bodies, planetary bodies, governing bodies, bodies of water, all-the-while sketching commonplaces that pull from the collective consciousness ‘what it means to be part of a much larger thing.’” Because we feel the world needs to take a look at the bigger picture.
The body itself is a wondrous and complex machine; fitted with moving organic parts and a host of cultural applications, it is the “integral physical material of an individual.” This concept carries over to works of art as well, perhaps even interchangeable with “canon” for the purposes of literature (”canon” originally referring to what the Catholic Church deemed worthy for biblical inclusion). Outside of safe commonplaces like Shakespeare, one might think of Henry Darger, the reclusive American outsider artist who produced over 15,000 pages and 300 pieces over the course of a troubled life. Or Jorge Luis Borges, the multi-faceted existentialist Latin American writer whose political views purportedly robbed him of the Nobel Prize in Literature. To find works of art that resonate “body” right here at home, the Molecule looked deeper into the nooks and crannies of the New York underground, and in the process found a few eye-openers we wanted to share.
We began the “Bodies” issue with the THINKTANK interview of Julian Lesser, a Queens-based artist whose aerial, anatomical approach forces the Molecule to ponder changing concepts of individuality, duration and temporal relationships. And this week we debuted “Space Matters,” a new column from Manhattan-based Daniel Ludevig, a young architect obsessed with the “intangibility of a space’s effect.” In the first installment entitled “Monochrome” Daniel writes, “I don’t very much think of the influence space has on my psyche, my interactions, behavior or gut response. Yet, space has a very real power over who I am, how I think, how I act.” We’re dying to see what comes next.
Mike Lindgren gave us what one commenter referred to as “a dose of rock skool” with a short journey back to the Sex Pistols’ “Bodies” – the profanity-ridden statement on abortion that has every right to be in current discourse with a Roe v. Wade battle potentially waiting in the wings. And UM veteran Josh Livingston took a fascinating look into the world of transgender social politics on television, a front-and-center trend that’s leaving everyone thinking about what it must be like to live in the wrong body.
On the horizon we have an interview and showcase by Brooklyn-based producers Jillian Ciaccia (”the fictionist”) and Melissa Mintz (”the abstractionist”), a writer and artist whose work stretches expectations, taking the subject beyond traditional boundaries of a work’s anatomy and physiology. And later this month the Molecule introduces writer Jeremy Hoekstra and his new column, “Futurist,” in which he explores our relationships with all things tech.
The word “body” is a conceptual chameleon. Since the advent of the Internet and the popularization of computer-mediated communication, the body has become the final frontier; identity, as well as temporal and spatial relationships now take center stage. And throughout this process, the body is anything but autonomous.
Whether you explore the symbolic meanings of the body in Chinese culture, think of bodies of water as navigable waterways that bring points together, reflect on the astronomical objects that fill the cosmos, discuss the body of evidence against a suspect, read about the latest body augmentation, or merely sift through your personal art or literature collection, one thing is certain: what happens to one part of any body affects all other parts of that body. The “body” is nothing without the relationship between individual and collective.
It is my hope that over the next few months we will uncover a few of the many varying concepts that surround the word.
Very best,
Christopher
photo by Christopher de la Torre
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SPACE MATTERS | Monochrome
Monochrome
by Daniel Ludevig
It’s not every night I’m instructed to dress in monochrome, even less often for birthday parties. This summer, I and 99 other individuals got together in a Brooklyn wood-factory-turned-home to commemorate a happy 30-something with cocktails, hors d’oeuvres, art and conversation. When all was said and done, I left the gathering with one thing on my mind:
Space matters.
The intangibility of a space’s effect toys with my mind. For instance, I’m intrigued at my choice to read in a public café (preferably bursting with young, attractive singles) versus my private (meticulously arranged) apartment. It’s the same feeling I get every time Friends of the High Line suggests that my dog might have to wait on the street while I frolic amidst elevated gardens, or each time I walk onto a university campus and erupt philosophical insight. I don’t very much think of the influence space has on my psyche, my interactions, behavior or gut response. Yet, space has a very real power over who I am, how I think, how I act.
Naturally, the definition of space is different for everyone. The way I think of space has always revolved around where people meet: plazas vs. bars, East Village apartments vs. Brooklyn warehouses, Central Park vs. a Hudson River boardwalk. And a consistency in these types of pairs has since emerged; there seems to exist an irrefutable link between a space’s potential and my own. Eventually it became clear that spaces affected the potentials of others around me as well, regardless of whether or not they choose to consciously acknowledge it.
Many conversations and self-inflicted experiments since, I’ve became certain that the richness of diversity or purity of any experience directly correlates with the type of location in which that experience occurs. My monochrome soiree’s locale overtook my senses: a 1700 square foot factory home, divided by hues of transparent aqua-blue curtains, featuring a delicious blend of an equally sized rooftop, dimmed chandelier bathroom, and rugged brick walls, and accessorized with the appropriate balance of candles, fromage, a DJ’s spun wax and social lubricants. The potential is not unlike that of, say, a Burning Man retreat; creative embellishments decorate every jaw-dropping story, introductions flow like wine, and the intimate revelations congeal in perfect harmony with the continuum of boisterous, at times hysterical, laughter.
This is the embodied ideal of a New York gathering. Or at least the kind I dream about, where highfalutin small talk is left at the door and raw, honest and exploratory exchange rules the night. It was that very door however that oversaw this successful transition. The designed layout of this space guided the easy intermingling of its inhabitants (participants?).
The indoor/outdoor areas maintained a sense of desired privacy that encouraged leisurely exploration without the stifling isolation that so often characterizes NYC gatherings and ultimately, its dialogue. The format and tone of the evening, from monochrome to scattered art installations, evoked feelings of unmatched vigor and bantering enthusiasm.
By the end, I realized that the space did what every space ought to do: actualize the greatest potential of whatever lies within. As such, every gathering space ought to encourage its inhabitants to experience dynamism within themselves and with others. That actualized energy will always remain my barometer when assessing any encountered space and its effect on the quality of a gathering, whether in gray monochrome or in bursting, clashing color.
With this in mind let these experiences guide our active analysis of the spaces our lives inhabit, because after all, space does matter.
top image from Reynald Drouhin’s “IP Monochrome”
image of Daniel: Laula Fritz
Filed under: Space Matters | 4 Comments
Tags: architecture, art, birthday party, brooklyn, column, conversation, dan, daniel, friends of the high line, gathering, journal, laula fritz, ludevig, monochrome, New York, photo, private, public, space, Space Matters, um, Urban Molecule
LONG STORY SHORT | Trans
Trans-On-TV
by Josh Livingston
Stub your toe and you’ll think, “Ouch!” But did you hurt your self or your body? We’re so used to thinking of our physical beings as who we are, it can be hard to separate them. So what happens when our selves disagree with our bodies and the sex we identify as disagrees with our anatomy?
A person’s gender has long been defined by their equipment below the belt. But for some, physical apparatus is not destiny. Those in the transgender community identify as the opposite of their physical sex. Many work hard to convert their bodies into agreement through surgery and hormone therapy. Scientific evidence suggests that genes and hormones hard-wire sexual identity into the brain before sex organs develop, “explaining why we feel male or female, regardless of our actual anatomy,” according to Dr. Eric Vilian (2003 UCLA study).
Transgendered individuals were on the front lines of the burgeoning gay rights movement and were credited with a major role in the 1969 Stonewall Riots, a symbol of gay resistance and turning point in the fight for equality. But as gay and lesbian rights groups attempted to assimilate into mainstream, the trans community had been pushed to the margin, where it remains to this day.
In the past year, the trans community has snagged some high profile exposure in the mainstream media. And I’m not referring to Christian Siriano’s now infamous “hot tranny mess” catchphrase. ABC dipped its toe in the ‘two spirits’ pool with Jeffery Carlson’s character’s transition from Zarf to Zoe on All My Children and Rebecca Romijn’s role as male-to-female (MTF) Alex on Ugly Betty, although neither actor is transgender.
Former NYC-based nightlife performer Candis Cayne, however, became the first trans actor in a trans role on network TV with her break-through turn as sultry Carmelita on NBC’s Dirty Sexy Money, which has been remarkable for not sensationalizing her character’s taboo aspect.
On a quest to be a celebrity personal assistant on MTV’s I Want to Work for Diddy, Laverne Cox’s self-possessed air and professionalism won the hearts of some fans, but didn’t take her to the top.
Transgender activist Calpernia Addams’ search for love on Logo’s Transamerican Love Story offered a fascinating look into the often misunderstood (biological or trans) men who seek out MTF women and highlighted the unusual issues that affect their relationships.
Isis King’s stint at the first transgender contestant on the CW’s America’s Next Top Model was all too brief but showcased not only her looks, but her incredibly grounded and even-keeled temperament.
But does this attention benefit the lives of everyday transgendered individuals? I’m hopeful in thinking that exposure leads to awareness and ultimately acceptance, but there’s no telling how long that might take. For an idea of where the current zeitgeist falls on the issue, read the extremely ambivalent comments left on the Advocate’s coverage of Thomas Beatie’s surprising pregnancy as a transman.
Filed under: Long Story Short | 2 Comments
Tags: all my children, anatomy, body, candis cayne, christian siriano, column, dirty sexy money, gender, hot tranny mess, i want to work for diddy, Josh Livingston, journal, Long Story Short, male to female, television, tranny, trans, transexual, transgender, ugly betty, um, Urban Molecule
MIKEROSCOPIC | Bodies
Bodies
by Michael Lindgren
“She was a girl from Birmingham,” snarls Johnny Rotten, biting off the syllables like he’s tearing meat off a bone — “an’ she just had an abortion…” So kicks off the Sex Pistols song “Bodies,” a high-velocity blast of sonic splatter on the landmark Never Mind the Bollocks Here’s the Sex Pistols. Even on an album of ferocious songs, “Bodies” stands out for its unusually graphic lyrics: the girl from Birmingham is “dragged on a table in a factory… in a packet in a lavatory,” and the aborted fetus is described as “a throbbing squirm, gurgling bloody mess,” before Rotten spits out the penultimate lines: “Fuck this and fuck that / fuck it all and fuck a fucking brat / SHE DON’T WANT A BABY THAT LOOKS LIKE THAT / I DON’T WANT A BABY THAT LOOKS LIKE THAT.”
It’s a beautiful, horrifying performance, a brutal shoving of the listeners’ face into the messy chaos of bodies, pregnancy, and abortion, an angry cry of fear and revulsion. Ripping the lid off illicit abortion with such uncompromising language was part of the Pistols’ meaning, their courage, and their integrity: in England in 1977 such things weren’t part of the public discourse, let along a topic for pop songs, and the effect was visually underscored by the violence they effected on their own bodies, stapled and scarred and mutilated in reaction to the narcissistic high-glam sheen of superstar rock.
As usual, though, the Mikeroscope tells a slightly different story, the more interesting for being the more complicated. Despite, or perhaps because of, their immense notoriety, the Pistols remain one of the most misunderstood bands in rock’n'roll history. The Sex Pistols were provocateurs above all, and their political and cultural content starts and stops there. Their predecessors the New York Dolls got a subversive kick out of dressing in drag; their peers the Ramones were capable of singing affectionately about rebellious punkettes, while the Clash’s songs were informed by a thoughtfully constructed leftist agenda.
In contrast, the Pistols were interested in shock value only; they were authentically nihilist, with no regard for value-statements, theirs or others. They wore T-shirts with swastikas and they wore T-shirts with homoerotic drawings of policemen kissing, and saw no difference. They were well-coached in the art of exploiting public outrage by their svengali Malcolm McLaren, and they weren’t stupid.
Which brings us back to “Bodies,” which is a difficult artifact from which to extract an exegesis, to put it mildly. The plangent wail of “Mummy!” at the end of the song and the lines “I’m not a discharge / I’m not a loss in protein” come uncomfortably, suspiciously close to implying agency. Underneath the leather and spit and blood and track marks we find… anti-abortion fundamentalists? On the other hand, the “dragged on a table in a factory” description of the illicit abortion has the deliberate explicitness of cinema verite-style muckraking, and the keening chorus — “Body! I’m not an animal” could just as easily be the cry of the “girl from Birmingham,” protesting a society that enforces her status as a mindless, breeding animal: livestock, in short.
So what are we left with, then, after these contradictions, contained within an evocative but hardly precise cultural document, penned by a group of subliterate working-class teenagers over thirty years ago, in a land across the sea? Well, the music, for one; mythology aside, Bollocks is the work of a band playing with a precision and power that belied their reputation as amateur hacks, just as Rotten’s free-associative lyrics convey, with great economy, real power and horror.
The song’s true force is located in Steve Jones’s roaring guitar line, in the heavily syncopated intro (practically prog-rock by the Pistols’ austere standards), in Paul Cook’s crushing backbeat (especially the stuttering kick/snare figure at the jump at 1:51). Most of all, the feral directness of Rotten’s singing still jumps out of the speakers, raging against limits, for all of us, male or female, who feel trapped within our bodies, shouting, I’m not an animal.
Filed under: mikeroscopic | 7 Comments
Tags: art, birmingham, bodies, bollocks, clash, column, girl, johnny rotten, journal, literature, malcolm mclaren, mike lindgren, mikeroscopic, never mind the bollocks here's the sex pistol, New York, paul cook, rock, sex pistols, steve jones, um, Urban Molecule
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