Stephen McClurg's Blog, page 50

The Year in Writing 2017

Though in different ways, this year was as tough as last year. Maybe that’s just what it is.

I wrote seven installments of Test Prep, my contribution to The Terror Test, a horror podcast made by two fellow English teachers. I wasn’t able to write as many as I wanted to, but I’m proud of the work I do for the show and it indulges my interests in both philosophy and horror. I’m working on my first column for next year and it’s about one of my favorite movies, The Brood (1979).

In March, Jasper Lee’s Mirror of Wind LP was released. I played bass on “Asleep a Hundred Years,” which is the last recording and live music I’ve done. Jasper is a fabulous visual artist and musician.

I can’t ever get away from music, even though I feel like I try to every few years. Now my kids are learning music, here and there. Next month, I won’t be playing, but I will be writing about music again. More on that soon.

Also in March, Territory published “Nextdoor,” a collaboration with Mark Ehling. Mark is a superlative whatever-it-is-he-does. Our piece took on another life as part of the “Grow Up” exhibit at Wild Goose Creative.

I interviewed two fantastic poets this year: Emma Bolden and Ashley M. Jones.

I worked with Jason on a new volume of The Outrider Podcast. It’s a work-in-progress, and I think we’re getting closer to hitting a natural stride with it. I enjoyed our conversations on the difficulties of resistance, including how to define it, and on meditation.

And recently, I was happy to be a part of the Matchbook Journal series through Small Fires Press.

As always, thanks for reading! Happy Holidays and Happy New Year!

Seasonal Updates and Otherwise

I recently interviewed poet Ashley M. Jones. She was great to talk to, all at once kind, thoughtful, and generous with her time. I can’t wait for her new work.

I have a few more planned, but the details are shaky for the moment. I have a lot of reading to do for them right now.

We just posted episode four of the new volume of The Outrider Podcast. I talk to novelist Jason Quinn Malott about writing and attempting to balance creativity in one’s life.

School’s out, but I’m reading some possible summer reading choices and re-reading some books on pedagogy and doing some planning for the second semester.

Overall, it was a tough year with almost the last whole month of someone in the family being sick. Maybe it’s the season, but I’m hopeful for 2018.

 

 

Some recent viewing…

Titles in bold are ones I particularly liked.

Animated

“Drums West” (1961)

Documentary

Art / Literature

Poetry in Motion (1982)

Music

Ornette: Made in America (1985)

Art House

Nostalgia (1983)

Horror / Sci-fi / VHS Weirdness

The Black Cat (1981)

Death Watch (1980)

The Alchemist Cookbook (2016)

Everything Else

The Friends of Eddie Coyle (1973)

That Most Important Thing: Love (1975)

Losing Ground (1982)

Sweetie (1989)

The Wedding Banquet (1993)

“We’re Going to the Zoo” (2006)

Some recent viewing…

Over the last few years, I’ve posted mega-lists of works I’m either just starting to chew on or digesting. I’ve tried to write about this more frequently this year.  Titles in bold are ones I particularly liked.

If you’re interested, I posted a Criterion and AFI Top 100+ lists this year, too.

Animated

“Logorama” (2009)

“Coda” (2013)

“Deer Flower” (2016)

Kubo and the Two Strings (2016)

Moana (2016)

Sing (2016)

“Superbia” (2016)

Trolls (2016)

Documentary

“A Modern Coed” (1966)

Choke (1999)

Heaven’s Gate: The Untold Story (1999)

My Scientology Movie (2015)

Art / Literature

Poetry in Motion (1982)

Louie Bluie (1985)

Crumb (1994)

And Everything Is Going Fine (2010)

The American Scream (2012)

Future Shock!: The Story of 2000 AD  (2014)

Film

Werner Herzog Eats His Shoe (1980)

Something to Scream About (2003)

Cameraperson (2011)

Kong! Long Live the King! (2016)

Music

New York Doll (2005)

Get Thrashed (2006)

Can’t Stand Losing You: Surviving the Police (2012)

Blackhearts (2016)

Art House

Symbiopsychotaxiplasm: Take One (1968)

“A Day with the Boys” (1969)

Conversions (1971)

“Junkopia” (1981)

Poison (1981)

My Winnipeg (2007)

“24 Frames Per Century” (2013)

Horror / Sci-fi / VHS Weirdness

5 Dolls for an August Moon (1970)

Multiple Maniacs (1970)

Images (1972)

Invasion of the Bee Girls (1973)

The Beast Must Die (1974)

Rollerball (1975)

Blue Sunshine (1978)

The Final Terror (1983)

Death Spa (1988)

Hobo with a Shotgun (2011)

Spring (2014)

The Blackcoat’s Daughter (2015)

The Autopsy of Jane Doe (2016)

I Am the Pretty Thing That Lives in the House (2016)

The Void (2016)

Get Out (2017)

Everything Else

Speedy (1928)

“I Graduated, But…” (1929)

Zero for Conduct (1933)

The Rules of the Game (1939)

Rome, Open City (1945)

The Strange Love of Martha Ivers (1946)

The Red Shoes (1948)

La Notte (1961)

Putney Swope (1969)

The Long Goodbye (1973)

The Second Awakening of Christa Klages (1978)

Paris, Texas (1984)

The Adventures of Priscilla, Queen of the Desert (1994)

Walking and Talking (1996)

“La cambrure” (1999)

Magnolia (1999)

In the Mood for Love (2000)

“Incident By a Bank” (2009)

Blue Ruin (2013)

Some recent reading and other such…

Much of my weekend will be tending to children, grading essays, and writing curriculum. I might sneak in some other writing here and there, but I find that my school work often eats at those muscles and I tend to write less when the school year is fully flourishing. Plus, this is the second year in a row with two new classes that I’m building, which involves more work than simply refining a previously built course.

I’m excited that I’ll have a poem in a matchbook anthology made by Small Fires Press, a print shop and bindery in New Orleans. Their work is fantastic.

“Nextdoor,” a continuing collaboration with Mark Ehling, is getting a new form of life in the GROW UP exhibition at Wild Goose Creative, a non-profit art and education space in Columbus, Ohio. I have some family roots in Ohio so I’m excited about this show for many reasons. I have to say thanks to Amanda Page who made us aware of the exhibit and who will now have to hang our art! Mandy continues to be…supportive…hee…

Recently, Jason Quinn Malott and I started volume two of the Outrider Podcast. We’re working with a few different structures, and this first episode may have even been the third in a series of recorded conversations about writing, reading, and life.

I’m drafting my next Halloween collaboration with artist Reed Randolph. Last year, we did The Coven of Lonely Gourds. This year’s project will maintain our indulgence in a kind of EC/MAD humor, but is also influenced by Ed and Lorraine Warren, whose demonology school I wanted to attend as a twelve-year-old.

Here’s some recent reading:

General Favorites 2017–So Far, Part II

Books that left traces.

Nonfiction

Auto/Biography

Two-Dimensional Man : Paul Sahre

Theft By Finding: Diaries (1977-2002) : David Sedaris

Psychology/Philosophy/Education/Religion

The Dhammapada

Taking the Path of Zen: Robert Aitken

The Book of Tea : Kakuzo Okakura

There Is No God and He Is Always With You: A Search for God in Odd Places : Brad Warner

Essays/Criticism

Paperbacks from Hell: A History of Horror Fiction From the ‘70s and ‘80s: Grady Hendrix

Equipment for Living: On Poetry and Pop Music : Michael Robbins

A Supposedly Fun Thing I’ll Never Do Again: Essays and Arguments : David Foster Wallace

Film

Melinda Camber Porter In Conversation With Wim Wenders

Art/Comics

Dreams of the Rarebit Fiend: Winsor McCay

Poetry

Best American Poetry 2017: ed. Natasha Tretheway

 

 

A Well-Designed Life Is Not Without Disorder: Paul Sahre’s Two-Dimensional Man: A Graphic Memoir

[image error]I made two mistakes when I chose this book. One I make all the time and may get Paul Sahre’s approval as a designer. I chose this book because of its cover. I’m rarely rewarded, but I do it anyway. The cover design for Sahre’s book looks like somehow all the cover information had been set on top of the book, and then someone picked it up and everything slid down in a ragged pile at the bottom. It immediately drew me in. My second mistake was thinking that this was a book written by or about Jean-Paul Sartre and that the “two-dimensional man” was maybe one who acted in bad faith or was unfulfilled in some way. While Sahre broaches some existential angst and anxiety, that’s not this book.

The first thing to hate about this memoir is the author’s style. It’s well-written and funny. I hated this because a part of me hoped if Sahre was this entertaining in writing, his design work would be awful. This, of course, counter to the fact that he likely designed the cover that piqued my interest. And that’s the second thing to hate. His work is really good. It seems unfair.

When I opened the book and realized it was about design, I thought that at least it would be a quicker read than the imagined Sartre book. It was so immediately entertaining, I had to go back and check that I was indeed reading a memoir about work in graphic design. Sahre’s intro about his early art and his family is as easy and fun to read as David Sedaris. I didn’t expect it. An early drawing, prominently and embarrassingly displayed in his parents’ house, gives the name to the prologue: “Demon Eating Human Flesh.” This picture was a favorite of Sahre’s troubled brother who renamed himself “Angus” after Angus Young from AC/DC. Sahre describes his grandfather’s choice of one day capping his Old Spice with the head of a GI Joe doll, and deciding to continue this until his death. What’s wonderful about this object is that it is at once a bizarre juxtaposition, like something in a Devo video, and also a functional aspect of someone’s toilet. Quotidian magic.

When Sahre’s book finally becomes the book one expects, the one about design, the reader may feel cheated, but that’s only in comparison to the rest, and then only slightly. The table of contents page for Part Three seems to be a clue. Echoing the cover, the contents are in a heap at the bottom of the page. He’s sifted through piles of ideas, work, and events from his career and offering lessons and observations. The sections are shorter and more matter-of-fact. He discusses everything from teaching to business, including what he learns after a profanity-laden shouting match with Steely Dan.

Two-Dimensional Man also reminds me of Stephen King’s craft book/memoir On Writing, one of the few books about the craft that non-writers seem to have read and enjoyed. Both books are worth multiple reads in the way they show how lives shape art and art shapes lives. Like other satisfying books about particular arts, Sahre’s book has important lessons not only for others hoping to go into graphic design, but also anyone hoping to improve their work or hoping to find inspiration. Besides seriously analyzing fonts and their features, and having a deep understanding of basics like shape and color, Sahre put in a great deal of sweat equity painting signs and creating his own silk screen machines to create posters outside of his regular hours of design work at a firm. He sometimes slept on a cot in his office. There is some luck to his process and success, but a lot of labor went into creating that luck.

Relating to an Irrelatable World: Melinda Camber Porter in Conversation with Wim Wenders

[image error]I assume that like many others, my initial interest in this book was in Wim Wenders. It also caught my attention that this was about my favorite movie of his, Paris,Texas (1984), and that the interviews were done during filming. I was hoping that the book would then be a peek into the process that Wenders was using for the film, and there the book doesn’t disappoint.

For example, Wenders and Sam Shepard, one of the screenwriters, are full of doubt and concern that the film may fail artistically and monetarily. Neither artist was a total unknown at this point, both were fairly well-established in the industry, though not necessarily household names, which didn’t seem to be their goals anyway. The takeaway, particularly for young artists, is that even established creators work in self-doubt and struggle. Wenders, who had been making movies for almost a decade-and-a-half at that point, says, “I mean if you make a movie that questions its own ideas all the way, you realize that questioning your ‘ideas’ really means questioning yourself.” For him, this means that he has to maintain confidence in those around him, even “mankind,” (though I’m not quite sure what that means–maybe that the film will find its audience?) rather than himself.

While not always discussed blatantly, much of the thematic material shines through the conversation. Wenders discusses the “discrepancy” in the title, Paris, Texas, and you realize how much that illuminates the film. Wenders, a European, telling this story written by Shepard, an American, sometimes iconic for his loner/rambler status. This discrepancy, really a beautiful tension, gets carried over into the film in which the viewer encounters the visuals of the American landscape set to a European cinematic pacing.

Initially, I thought that this was more or less like many “on set” books, but opening it up to the title page I noticed that it was labeled as part of the “Melinda Camber Porter Archive of Creative Works Series in Journalism” as “Volume 1, Number 3.” I was wondering if Porter was someone I should know or had read before, but didn’t remember her name. Reading her bio I realized she had died of ovarian cancer in 2008 and “left a significant body of work in art, journalism, and literature.” When I had casually flipped through the pages previously, I wondered why there were pictures of the tapes and cassette recorder that Porter had used to record the interviews. It just seemed odd, but the backstory helped me make sense of them.

There are photographs in the book by Porter that are spare and gorgeous, reminiscent of O’Keefe’s desert paintings, yet more abstract. Her husband, Joseph Flicek, also has photos, though his remind me more of Andrew Wyeth in terms of color and composition. When I carve out some time, I’m interested in seeing her paintings.

After reading the book, I was directed forward in a couple of ways. One, it made me interested in Porter’s work, an artist that I knew nothing about. Two, the conversation made me go back and watch Paris, Texas for the first time in about twenty years. Not only did it look much better, since I wasn’t watching it on a rental VHS, but the movie was even better than I had remembered. And that’s probably the best praise I can offer a book that is a transcribed conversation, that it is an impetus into the creative works under discussion.

But, man, you’re never going to get any truth from us: The AFI Top 100, Part IV

It’s been a while since I started this, but my attention had to go to the new school year and my oldest started school as well. I needed to finish an interview. Follow the links, if you’re interested, to Parts I, II, and III.

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Jaws (1975)

Jaws is more important to me than Star Wars (1977). I had never thought about that before. I might be considered better-adjusted if the opposite were true. Growing up, I wrote every paper on sharks until sixth grade, where I started writing about horror movies, Edgar Allan Poe, serial killers, and Delta Blues. There was one paper in third or fourth grade about the Lakota Sun Dance (a ceremony with at least one variation that involves a warrior being pierced and hung by the skin). I learned about that from watching A Man Called Horse (1970) with my grandmother. All those shark papers came from Jaws. I wanted to be a marine biologist so I could study sharks. I watched the few pre-Shark Week docs available at the time like Blue Water White Death (1971).

As a kid, I watched this movie for the shark. As I get older, I admire how a fairly young Spielberg deftly handles the human element of the film. It’s this element that can get saccharine and off-putting in his later films, or films of this ilk, like Super 8 (2011).

After shark scientist, the next two jobs I thought about were either comic book artist or stop-motion special effects artist, like Ray Harryhausen. Later, I wanted to be Tom Savini. I’m just realizing how much time I’ve put into movies and movie culture.

I watch Jaws every summer, on the Fourth of July if possible. Admittedly, this year felt different. Maybe when the kids get older, we’ll have fun watching this during summers.

Here’s a quote from the book: “Hooper ladled chum, which sounded to Brody, every time it hit the water, like diarrhea.”

You’re welcome.

 

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Nashville (1975)

I’ve never been a fan of the large ensemble Linklater work like Slacker (1991) or Dazed and Confused (1993). Around the same time, I saw Robert Altman’s Short Cuts (1993), which I liked pieces of, but didn’t like as a whole. I had tried to find Nashville for a while, though I didn’t have much hope for it. All of these movies were ones I wanted to like, by the way, they had all come with encomiums by various friends. It’s like most performance or conceptual art, I suppose, the idea seems great, but often watching or standing in front of these things isn’t. I still admire the concept of Slacker, though I don’t enjoy the film.

I don’t think Nashville is a perfect film, and it’s definitely not for everyone, but it’s my favorite of these large ensemble pictures so far.

 

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Network (1976)

Here’s a 40-year-old movie that seemed ahead of its time and maybe seems quaint now that we have a part-time TV host and all-the-time businessman in office and Nazis marching in the US. Maybe it can still help us understand the media and money machines we now have. Maybe. Either way, it’s worth the performances, particularly of Ned Beatty and Peter Finch.

 

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Rocky (1976)

So all that I said about disliking sentimentality in Spielberg and then I go and put Rocky in this list? Yeah, I know. Though it’s not really an equivalence, I regularly watch more Stallone than Spielberg, including Death Race 2000 (1975), Nighthawks (1981), First Blood (1982), Rhinestone (1984), Cobra (1986), Over the Top (1987), Rambo (2008), and Creed (2015).

 

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Unforgiven (1992)

As a fan of spaghetti westerns, and evidently of westerns in general, since they keep coming up on this list, I had little to no interest in this film when it came out and just forgot about it over the years. A friend who was slightly interested in my viewing projects, recommended Unforgiven and brought it to me. I watched Pale Rider (1985) and this back-to-back and about a week later watched Gran Torino (2008). There are interesting ways that these films talk to each other, but that’s for another time. I’m sure plenty of others have beat me to that anyway.

Gene Hackman delivers one of the saddest and funniest lines I’ve ever heard: “I don’t deserve this. To die like this. I was building a house.”

 

The Complete List of My Top 20 of the AFI Top 100+

Sunrise: A Song of Two Humans (1927)

All Quiet on the Western Front (1930)

City Lights (1931)

Frankenstein (1931)

King Kong (1933)

Stagecoach (1939)

The Wizard of Oz (1939)

Fantasia (1940)

Double Indemnity (1944)

Sunset Blvd. (1950)

High Noon (1952)

Singin’ in the Rain (1952)

On the Waterfront (1954)

Vertigo  (1958)

The Last Picture Show (1972)

Jaws (1975)

Nashville (1975)

Network (1976)

Rocky (1976)

Unforgiven (1992)

the fire that warms and the fire that frees you: An Interview with Emma Bolden

Go check out Emma Bolden’s work. Then check out our conversation. I’ve been wanting to do an interview with her for years. It finally worked out. I get excited every time she posts about new publications and I get inspired rereading the past ones.

I hope you’ll feel the same.

 

 

If I do what you tell me, will you love me?: The AFI Top 100, Part III.

Here are the next five in chronological order. You can read the original posts here and here.

Also, the “featured image” for this post on my menu is courtesy of Jason Munn. Check out more of his often minimal and geometric work at his website. Great stuff!

My Favorite 20 of AFI’s Top 100+

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High Noon (1952)

Like Stagecoach, this film was another immersive experience for me. I guess what I mean by this is largely the shut-off of the intellectual valve and a willingness to invest in the world onscreen more viscerally. It’s the pure joy that cinema can bring sometimes. The film experiments with “real time” leading up to a showdown at….well, you get it. Evidently presidents are quite fond of this one. Supposedly Bill Clinton screened it a record number of times at The White House. Reagan and Eisenhower both considered it a favorite.

 

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Singin’ in the Rain (1952)

Students often ask me about music. What kind of music do you like?, they’ll ask. Almost everything, I’ll say. Ask me about a type of music. A common response is that a student will say, Me, too. I like everything, but rap and country. I’ll say, well, I like rap and country, too. I can’t imagine music without Public Enemy and Hank Williams. Musicals seem to inhabit that land of “rap and country.” This movie is not just a great musical, but great cinema. I’ve mentioned before that one of the benefits of lists is that they introduce me to work that I may have ignored left to my own devices. This is one of those cases. The “Make ‘Em Laugh” section is not too far from classic Jackie Chan. Grace. Athleticism. Goofiness.

 

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On the Waterfront (1954)

Eva Marie Saint and Marlon Brando give two spectacular performances. It’s worth watching for that alone.

 

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Vertigo (1958)

Before the age of ten and for years after, if asked, I would have said that Hitchcock was my favorite director. The Harryhausen films had introduced me to Bernard Herrmann’s music, but, honestly, if you dig into his filmography, even the amazing scores he did for Hitchcock are just scratching the surface. His film scoring career begins with both Citizen Kane and The Devil and Daniel Webster (1941) and ends with Taxi Driver (1976). What!? I am curious to delve into his pre-film radio career, if any of it is available.

Saul Bass’s poster design is incredible. Lots of iconic imagery from this film, and interestingly, reactions to this films and Hitchcock in general seem to go in cycles of appreciation, elevation, and devaluation. Ultimately, that’s probably a good thing.

When I was younger, I was always excited to see a Hitchcock film because I knew I would see something, usually technical, that I had never seen in a film before, some sort of new camera movement or lighting technique. It was the same way I approached Dario Argento’s work. Maybe that’s why it took me years to notice his bizarre form of storytelling. I was too busy looking at the wallpaper that a set designer (or Argento, you never know with that guy) chose.

 

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The Last Picture Show (1972)

A bildungsroman that showcases mood and atmosphere as much as character and story. It evokes the experience of growing up in small town America and discovering oneself, while also feeling stuck or stalled. The ending is like a long, pained exhalation. I mean that in a good way.

 

The list so far:

Sunrise: A Song of Two Humans (1927)

All Quiet on the Western Front (1930)

City Lights (1931)

Frankenstein (1931)

King Kong (1933)

Stagecoach (1939)

The Wizard of Oz (1939)

Fantasia (1940)

Double Indemnity (1944)

Sunset Blvd. (1950)

High Noon (1952)

Singin’ in the Rain (1952)

On the Waterfront (1954)

Vertigo  (1958)

The Last Picture Show (1972)