Wouter "Wally" De Backer (born 21 May 1980), also known professionally by his stage name Gotye, is a Belgian-Australian multi-instrumental musician and singer-songwriter.
He plays drums, percussion and piano, and he writes, sings and produces tracks at his home, currently in Victoria, Australia.
Gotye’s sound is a melting pot of samples from sources far and wide, mixed with Wally’s vocals and home recorded sounds to form original songs that are as likely to channel ’80s New Romantic pop or ’60s Motown soul as they are to be experiments in kooky turntablism or progressive trip-hop landscapes. The results are songs that both reference and incorporate styles and sounds of the past, but bear a distinctly contemporary outlook.
He has released three studio albums independently and one remix album featuring remixes of tracks from his first two albums. De Backer is also one-third of Melbourne indie-pop band The Basics, who have independently released three studio albums and numerous other titles since 2002. He has won five ARIA Awards and received a nomination for an MTV EMA for Best Asia and Pacific Act.
This year's Winner of the Tribeca film festival doc competition and a festival hit around the world. The rusting relic of a failed 1950s development boom, the Salton Sea is a barren Californian landscape often seen as a symbol of the failure of the American Dream. A sea in the middle of the Colorado desert.
True to her roots as a photographer, video artist, and music video director, Alma Har'el crafts an adamantly atypical and artistically innovative film telling the story of of three protagonists: Benny Parrish, a young boy diagnosed with bipolar disorder whose troubled soul and vivid imagination create both suffering and joy for him and his complex and loving family. CeeJay Thompson, a black teenager and aspiring football player who has taken refuge in Bombay Beach hoping to avoid the same fate of his cousin who was murdered by a gang of youths in Los Angeles. And that of Red, an ancient survivor, once an oil field worker, living on the fumes of whiskey, cigarettes and an irrepressible love of life.
Together they make up a triptych of American manhood in its decisive moments, populating the Salton Sea's land of thwarted opportunity.
Bombay Beach is a dreamlike poem that sets these personal stories to a stylized melding of observational documentary and choreographed dance, to music specially composed for the film by ZACH CONDON of the band BEIRUT, and songs by BOB DYLAN.
The result is a moving and madly inventive documentary experience—an evocative, symbolic portrait of rural America and its inhabitants.
The Film Maker
Born and raised in Israel Alma Har’elbegan her work as a photographer and a video artist.
While working in NY and London her live video-art performances with musicians led her to directing music videos and her frequent collaborations with singer Zach Condon of the band Beirut brought her several nominations in film and music video festivals around the world. The video for Beirut’s “Elephant Gun” was chosen as one of the best videos of the decade in 2010 by several publications.
Her work is recognized for her expression through modern dance, landscape and character and for her ability to create images with a striking balance of emotions heavy hearted as much as they are joyful and playful. Currently she lives in Los Angeles. Bombay Beach is her first film."
Melvin Van Peebles created a new style of African-American filmmaking in 1971, when on a shoestring budget he made Sweet Sweetback's Baadasssss Song, a violent action picture about a sex-show stud on the run from the police that below the surface served as a call for revolution in the black community. But Sweet Sweetback was hardly Van Peebles' first or only bold achievement in the arts.
After brief careers piloting cable cars in San Francisco and flying fighter planes in the Korean War, Van Peebles moved to Paris, where he wrote five novels, became a regular contributor to an anarchist journal, and directed his first feature film, The Story of a Three-Day Pass. On the strength of its critical acclaim, Van Peebles returned to America and made his first (and only) major studio film, Watermelon Man, which helped him gather the money and connections it took to make Sweet Sweetback.
Alongside these cinematic triumphs, Van Peebles launched a recording career in the late '60s, making literate but streetwise albums that paved the way for rap and hip-hop, and staged a series of hit Broadway plays including Don't Play Us Cheap and Ain't Supposed to Die a Natural Death. In the 1980s, Van Peebles switched careers and became a successful Wall Street options trader, and watched his son Mario Van Peebles become a star. (Mario would also go on to make a film about his dad's adventures making Sweet Sweetback, entitled Baadasssss!).
How to Eat Your Watermelon in White Company (and Enjoy It) is a documentary made with Van Peebles' participation that looks back at his multi-faceted career and the brilliant, uncompromising man behind it all. The film includes interviews with a number of Van Peebles' colleagues and admirers, including Spike Lee, Gil Scott-Heron, Gordon Parks, and Elvis Mitchell.
Michael Rapaport answers the door to his Hancock Park house with a vague look of panic on his familiar, strawberry-blond mop-topped face. As he struggles to restrain two massive dogs so I can make my way into his home, I notice that the air inside is thick with incense, like I've barged in on a teenager who doesn't want his parents to know he's been taking bong rips in the living room.
I'm here to talk to the 41-year-old actor about his directorial debut, Beats Rhymes & Life: The Travels of A Tribe Called Quest.Combining intimate interviews with all four members of the seminal hip-hop group with de rigueur fawning from friends/fellow luminaries (Common, the Jungle Brothers, the Beastie Boys), as well as fly-on-the-wall footage shot by Rapaport during ATCQ's run on the 2008 Rock the Bells tour, the documentary tracks the group from their late-'80s formation through the production of the five technically and thematically groundbreaking albums they released before their 1998 breakup. ATCQ ended their hiatus to play live shows in 2006, and they continue to accept offers to perform when the money is right.
Rapaport is talking to me without the usual assistant or publicist chaperone, and once we've sat down in his cozy pool house, he doesn't sit still. When he drains his glass of water, he bounces off to the kitchen to refill it himself. A couple of weeks later, he'll take a follow-up call from me as he's getting off an Acela train, and proceed to rant at full, passionate volume while walking through the Philadelphia train station.
If Rapaport comes off a little deer-in-the-headlights, the atmosphere of constant distraction in his home is nothing compared to the clusterfuck surrounding the post-production, promotion and release of his movie. In fact, the story contained within Beats Rhymes & Lifehas been all but overshadowed by the story of how members of the group, led by Q-Tip, have responded to it, even publicly refuting the film and its maker, a New York native and lifelong hip-hop fanboy. Rapaport's showbiz career began in 1992 with the film Zebrahead, where he starred as a white Detroit high school kid immersed in black culture — not much of a stretch for him.
"The whole reason I made this movie was to try to answer one question," Rapaport says. "Will A Tribe Called Quest ever record new music?" Three years after the film's inception, the novice filmmaker has learned the folly of presenting a yes-or-no query to a group dominated by strong personalities with conflicting interests — a tension that both makes the music great and greatly decreases the chance that they'll ever be able to make more of it.
As of this writing, A Tribe Called Quest has never returned to the studio.
At the time of our meeting in early June, Rapaport said Q-Tip — the primary producer of the group's music as well as its biggest celebrity, had not seen the finished film. And yet, on Dec. 2, 2010, shortly after the Sundance Film Festivalannounced it would host the world premiere of the film in January, Q-Tip tweeted to his 242,000 Twitter followers, "I am not in support of the a tribe called quest [sic] documentary."
Rumors swirled online that Q-Tip was angry about a scene documenting a tiff that broke out backstage at a 2008 Rock the Bells show between him and fellow ATCQ founding member Phife Dawg. It's the culmination of what's depicted to be long-simmering tensions between the two nearly lifelong friends and collaborators, and Rapaport makes the fight the film's climax, using it as evidence of the interpersonal problems that have stymied the group's ability to work together.
Speaking by phone from his home in the Bay Area, Phife says he didn't realize Rapaport, who had just joined the tour the night before, was even filming the flare-up. "After the smoke settled or whatever, I just saw him sitting in the corner with the damn camera. I looked at him and said, 'Yo, was you taping all that?' and he was like, 'Oh, absolutely.' "
But Phife — who emerges as the sympathetic center of the movie, which tracks his struggle with diabetes so debilitating it necessitated an organ transplant in 2008, and whose medical bills were a motivating factor for ATCQ's 2006 reunion — is comfortable with the way he's portrayed.
"I'm fine with it," he says. "Because when you say the word 'documentary,' I'm looking for the film to be as real as it can be. This is the real deal, this is what it is."
Phife has been staunchly supportive of the movie, the only member to come to Sundance to support Beats at its world premiere. Two months after that, the other three-quarters of ATCQ — Q-Tip, DJ/producer Ali Shaheed Muhammad and part-time member Jarobi White— gave an interview to MTV presenting themselves as victims of the exploitation of Hollywood players who were "not working in the spirit of collaboration," despite the fact that the band had requested producer credits on the project.
Q-Tip came armed with evidence. Call it the ultimate cautionary tale against the use of "Reply All": On Dec. 17, 2010, Q-Tip was accidentally CC'ed by a Beats producer on an email referencing the group's request to be treated as producers. Q-Tip read the following portion of the email aloud on MTV: "First off let's close the billing block and put it on the poster so they can't get on that. Then we'll fuck them on everything else."
"I believe that that was the universe giving that to us and showing us who we were dealing with," Q-Tip told MTV interviewer Sway. And Ali chimed in: "There was a lot of deception that Michael played."
Rapaport told me repeatedly that the contracts his team signed with the ATCQ team going into the project did not stipulate that they'd be credited as producers. "We had an agreement in place," he said over the phone. "And on Dec. 19 [2010], after the movie was cut and locked, they asked to be producers."
Rapaport self-financed the doc with proceeds from his current for-hire acting work (his last long-term gig was as the star of the forgettable Fox family sitcom The War at Home) before selling the movie to Sony Classics.
He did eventually agree to credit the band members as producers; they also were given control over the film's music and are scheduled to participate in profits from its release. Rapaport insists he was not forced to do this, but chose to. "I can tell you this — just to show what kind of a mensch Michael Rapaport and the producers of this movie are — there's no legal documents binding us to giving them producer credit."
Though Muhammad and White have made appearances supporting the film at subsequent festivals, Rapaport indicates his relationship with all but Phife remains touch-and-go, and Ali and Q-Tip continue to post less-than-glowing comments about the movie on Twitter. On June 25, the day after he attended the Beats screening at the L.A. Film Festival, where it won the Audience Prize, Ali responded to chiding from Q-Tip by tweeting, "It was Hollywood, everyone played their part."
Given that he feels he's been conciliatory to ATCQ's requests, the director is confused, hurt and above all angered by this media counteroffensive.
"You know what Q-Tip was trying to do?" Rapaport fumed over the phone. "He thought he was going to rally the legions and legions of Tribe Called Quest and Q-Tip fans against me and this movie. That's what that was. Period. And they were trying to make me look bad. And essentially, they made themselves look bad."
"They were wanting producer credit," he insists. "They loved the movie so much, that at the end of the day, at the 26th hour, after we already had an agreement in place, they wanted more financial participation."
Ali's "deception" comment really sets Rapaport off, because he maintains that such protests against him and the movie fly in the face of the group's actions behind the scenes. "I could care less about what Ali says," Rapaport continued. "You could put that. Honestly, I could give a shit.
"They wanted to be producers? Producers support their movies."
Rapaport says he plans to release extended interviews on the film's DVD that will "speak for themselves," offering "more insight into the type of people—" He stops himself. "People will get more insight into the dynamic of the group. I'm just going to leave it at that."
But he doesn't. "Wait till the DVD comes out. Because I'm so tired of having to explain myself, and articulate this bullshit that they started by twittering and showing up on MTV. It's fucking ridiculous."
What's maybe most fascinating about the Beats Rhymes & Life story is the way it reveals the limitations of a single narrative — filmed, spoken, tweeted — to tell any story fully.
As consumers of stories, we've naturally evolved to the point where absorbing multiple narratives through a variety of sources seems completely natural. But what happens to the authority of a documentary when its subjects are able to disseminate their own alternate stories in real time, on the Internet?
After our interviews, Rapaport forwarded me a screen capture of a tweet from Q-Tip, who responded to a fan's query about the movie with the dismissal, "its OK. Its not the full tribe story."
"He shares in profit participation of the film and he tweets this to strangers," Rapaport emailed. "Classy, right?"
There's one moment in the film that feels particularly prescient in regards to all that would erupt in the period between the movie's production and its theatrical release. Fairly early in the film, Q-Tip is breaking down the creative process behind one of his masterpieces, "Can I Kick It?" He mentions that he sampled a Lonnie Smith record that included the song "Who's Afraid of Virginia Woolf," which he says he always remembers because of Mike Nichols' movie. "That movie was crazy," the hip-hop legend marvels to Rapaport's camera. "Sometimes I feel like my life is like that shit — some big social mishap."
By Karina Longworth Thursday, Jul 7 2011 LA Weekly
This tool for research and interpretation illuminates the music’s technical details, such as metaphors, rhyme style, and frequency of polysyllabic words. Any term can be searched, and the results are an exhaustive list of songs in which that term appears, along with complete lyrics, artist, location, syllable count, average syllables per word, and literary sophistication (determined by Flesch and SMOG scores, readability rubrics designed to measure ease of comprehension). Hip-Hop Word Count also converts the data into interactive visualizations that graph and connect on parallel lines. Users can select ranges in any category and see how, for example, Jay-Z’s shorter songs fare in terms of syllable count and sophistication. Hemphill notes that Hip-Hop Word Count, by assigning time and place to elements such as cultural and sociopolitical references, can be used “to chart the migration of ideas and map a geography of language.”
Talk to Me explores the communication between people and things. All objects contain information that goes well beyond their immediate use or appearance. In some cases, objects like cell phones and computers exist to provide us with access to complex systems and networks, behaving as gateways and interpreters. Whether openly and actively, or in subtle, subliminal ways, things talk to us, and designers help us develop and improvise the dialogue.
The exhibition focuses on objects that involve a direct interaction, such as interfaces, information systems, visualization design, and communication devices, and on projects that establish an emotional, sensual, or intellectual connection with their users. Examples range from a few iconic products of the late 1960s to several projects currently in development—including computer and machine interfaces, websites, video games, devices and tools, furniture and physical products, and extending to installations and whole environments.
The Department of Architecture and Design is documenting the process of organizing Talk to Me from its early stages through its opening in July 2011 and beyond via an online journal. The site features projects we are currently studying and some we have already selected, along with relevant references and feedback and suggestions from designers and writers. Since we always cast our nets very wide and count on suggestions and opinions from the design community, this step comes very naturally. Besides, communication is what this exhibition is all about.
Exhibition Three Scenes II Saturday, August 27, 3 pm Museum of Contemporary Art Chicago
Part II: The Club and Music Scene: Making Nightlife, Creating Community
This series of three gallery conversations proposes that we look at Mark Bradford's work in relation to different social and cultural contexts. Led by a guest presenter and museum staff, at each, they ask: What's the nature of this scene? What record of it do we see in Bradford's art? Why does it matter to his work and to culture now? With Joe Bryl, acclaimed DJ, music programmer and former Sonotheque owner; Travis, multidisciplinary artist and lead member of the boundary-crossing music and performance group ONO; and Aay Preston-Myint, interdisciplinary artist and active scene-maker through the collaborative groups Chances Dances No Coast, and Mess Hall.
Los Angeles artist Mark Bradford conceived Open Studio, the inaugural project of the Getty Artists Program, for a target audience of K–12 teachers, with the goal of making contemporary arts education accessible to teachers and classrooms across the nation and around the world. Authored by noted international artists, Open Studio is a collection of art-making activities that presents the unique perspectives of practicing artists. Each activity is presented as a free, downloadable PDF that includes an artmaking prompt, an artist biography, and images of the artist and works of art by the artist.
The Mark Bradford Project
The Mark Bradford Project connects MacArthur Fellow and contemporary artist Mark Bradford with various Chicago communities to interact around the creative process. Over the course of a year, Bradford will serve as a catalyst for ongoing discussions and community engagement projects, including interactions with students at Lindblom Math and Science Academy as well as teenagers in Chicago Public Library’s YOUmedia program. The theme of mapping, which Bradford explores in many of his paintings, serves as a unifying thread for these projects and discussions.
Building on the MCA Chicago’s long history of working with artists, and exemplifying the artist-activated, audience-engaged MCA vision, this yearlong creative residency is offered in conjunction with our May 2011 presentation of Bradford’s major solo exhibition, organized by the Wexner Center for the Arts.
Support for The Mark Bradford Project is generously provided by Helen and Sam Zell, The Joyce Foundation, Sara Lee Foundation, and The Broad Art Foundation.
About the artist
In six years, Mark Bradford, 45, has gone from being a self-proclaimed “beauty operator” at his mother’s beauty shop in South Los Angeles to navigating the tangled, lucrative weave that is the international art scene. Last week saw the opening of his solo show at the Whitney, “Neither New nor Correct,” featuring paintings of excavated billboards, posters, and other signage found in his Leimert Park neighborhood in L.A. We traced the path that got him here.
The Early Years: “I always made stuff but never thought, I’m going to be an artist. I was in charge of painting signs at the beauty shop (PRESS AND CURL $25; JHERI CURL $45). I did home movies. About the time I was 7, I got really into black-exploitation films, so I made my own Wonder Woman, but I made her black.”
The First Mentor: At CalArts, he meets artist Daniel Joseph Martinez, known for his I CAN’T IMAGINE EVER WANTING TO BE WHITE badges at the 1993 Whitney Biennial.
The First Show: In 1998, he has a solo show, “Distribution,” at L.A.’s Deep River, a gallery started by Martinez and artist Glenn Kaino. “At the time,” says Martinez, “Mark was doing a little bit of painting and sculptural objects that had to do with the manipulation of black women’s hair fashion as sociopolitical commentary.”
The Big Break: “When I started working on what became ‘Freestyle,’ this exhibition of emerging artists [at the Studio Museum in Harlem],” says Thelma Golden, “I was going to L.A. and spoke to many people about artists I should see. Christian Haye [director of the Project gallery] suggested I see Mark.”
The First Sales:From the 2001 “Freestyle” exhibition, the Studio Museum in Harlem buys Enter and Exit the New Negro. But the first painting that Bradford sells,Dreadlocks caint tell me shit, goes to Eileen Harris Norton, for $3,500. “I didn’t have a dime to my name,” says Bradford, “and Eileen paid me real fast. I would have curled her hair, that’s how broke I was.” Later that year, recalls Norton, “I wanted to do a Christmas card with my kids, and I commissioned him and Daniel Martinez to do it.”
Creative Rupture:At the first Art Basel Miami, in 2002, Bradford sets up the installation Foxyé Hair, a beauty shop where he and a team do the hair of visitors. But he soon begins pulling away from this sort of imagery, which is being read as stereotypical.
The Setback: In 2003, Bradford shows at the Whitney Altria space—his first attempt at his “new vocabulary.” Times critic Roberta Smith and others aren’t enthused. “I knew when I was putting it up that it wasn’t there,” he says. “After that review, I’d show up to give a lecture and there would be two people.” He gets passed over for the 2004 Whitney Biennial.
The New Chance: “Eungie Joo was the curator of the show ‘Bounce’ [at Redcat gallery], and she suggested I work big, but I said, ‘Yeah, but that’s expensive.’ Then she bought the canvas for me, so I said, ‘Aiight.’ She put her money where her mouth was, didn’t she?” “Bounce” includes Los Moscos—one of Bradford’s paintings in the 2006 Whitney Biennial.
The Major Recognition: In 2006, he receives the Bucksbaum Award, a $100,000 prize given to one Biennial participant. “When I got the call from Melva [Bucksbaum] to tell me I won, I was like, ‘Girl, shut up.’ I then had to put myself together, because I hadn’t met her at that time. So I said, ‘I’m sorry for calling you girl.’”
Today: “I can go to my own opening and the security guard will tell me that I have to go to the security entrance. Generally, when I tell people I’m a painter, they ask me if I have a card: ‘Yes, we’d like this room in this color.’ I still might get cards that say ‘Mark Bradford. Painter.’ If you need a bid, call Sikkema Jenkins”—his New York gallery, where his paintings can now reach $250,000.
