One more weekend to see 'David Driskell' at the Phillips

David Driskell (1931-2020), Young Pines Growing (detail), 1959, Clark Atlanta University Art Museum.  Driskell entered this work in the 18th Atlanta University Annual juried competition where it won the John Hope Purchase Award for best landscape.  Driskell was then teaching at Talladega College in Alabama.

An exhibition of works by David Driskell, one of the world's leading experts on African-American art, will close this weekend at the Phillips Collection. 

The Driskill exhibition, titled Icons of Nature and History, is presented in conjunction with a show on Alma W. Thomas, both presentations which engender such enthusiasm that one of my friends is leading a return to the museum to see them again. (Ms. Thomas closes Jan. 23, 2022.) 

The Phillips says its exhibition is the first comprehensive showing of Driskell's art spanning the 1950s to 2000 and includes more than 50 of his works, colorful, modern, uplifting, amazing, to use adjectives mildly. 

David Driskell (1931-2020), Pine and Moon, 1971, Portland (ME) Museum of Art

Driskill was a distinguished emeritus professor at the University of Maryland and taught there from 1976-1998. In 2001 the school established the David C. Driskell Center  for the Study of Visual Arts and Culture of African-Americans.

With degrees from Howard University (1955), and Catholic University (1962), Driskell was awarded nine honorary doctorates. In 2000 President Bill Clinton presented him and 11 others with a Presidential Medal as one of 12 recipients of the National Humanities Medal. 

David Driskell (1931-2020), Self-Portrait, 1953, Estate of David C. Driskell, Maryland

This is one of many "psychological self-portraits" Driskell painted, this one when he was a student at Howard University.  Compare it to the one below when he was three years older.

David Driskell (1931-2020), Self-Portrait, 1956, Estate of David C. Driskell, Maryland

David Driskell (1931-2020), Upward Bound, 1980, High Museum of Art. Driskell wanted to emulate his mother's quilting but she told him boys didn't quilt so "I slipped behind her back and made quilts. Now I am making them with my canvases." (1997)

In 2005, the High Museum in Atlanta established the David C. Driskell Prize to honor and celebrate contributions to the field of African American art and art history.

While mentoring and teaching hundreds of students over his lifetime, Driskell promoted, researched and wrote about African-American art.

David Driskell (1931-2020), City Quartet, 1953, David C. Driskell Center, University of Maryland. The label copy says this work shows influences of his mentors, Jack Levine and Lois Mailou Jones. The man on the left may be Driskell who painted this when he was 23.

David Driskell (1931-2020), Black Ghetto, 1968-70, Fisk University (oil and mixed media on canvas). The label copy quotes from a 1999 statement by the artist:  "The composition is an autobiographical reflection on my own childhood, one in which I look out into the larger world from beyond my narrowly confined abode.  Black Ghetto also addresses the issue of having to confront life in America along lines of color and race."

David Driskell (1931-2020), Memories of a Distant Past, 1975, private collection. According to the High Museum:  "This painting repurposes material published in the January 7, 1969, edition of Look—a special issue: The Blacks and the Whites. Driskell used pictorial imagery from the essay titled 'Black America’s African Heritage.'" He often employed collage art in the 1960s and 1970s; Look magazine was a favorite source.

David Driskell (1931-2020), Let the Church Roll On, 1995–96, Bowdoin College Museum of Art.  The label copy says the church's hovering angel is a reminder of Driskell's heritage including that of his father who drew angels and the enduring black church which was an important part of his life.

He curated more than 35 exhibition which featured Jabob Lawrence, Romare Bearden, Elizabeth Catlett, and others. He advised Oprah Winfrey on her collection and guided the Clintons to the first art work by a black artist to hang at the White House (Henry Ossawa Tanner's Sand Dunes at Sunset: Atlantic City, 1885). 

 

Driskell was born in Eatonton, GA in 1931, lived for many years in North Carolina and Maine, and died from covid-19 complications in Washington, D.C. in 2020.  

Washington's winter weather should lift this weekend for Driskell's final show at the Phillips, "America's first museum of modern art."

 

What: David Driskell: Icons of Nature and History

When: Through Sunday, January 9, 2022, 11 a.m. - 6 p.m.

Where: The Phillips Collection, 1600 21st St., N.W. at Q St., Washington, D.C. 20009

Admission: $16, adults; $12 for those over 62; $10, students and educators (with ID); free for members and for children 18 and under. Timed tickets are required, but members may walk in at any time. Visitors 12 and over must show proof of vaccination or a same-day negative COVID-19 test upon entry, along with a government-issued photo ID for visitors 16 and over. 

Metro Station: Dupont Circle (Q Street exit. Turn left and walk one block.)

For more information: 202-387-2151  


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'Belfast' is an arty film

 

That Belfast been nominated for a Golden Globe for Best Motion Picture in Drama demonstrates the lack of competitive film choices available now.  (The other titles are relatively unknowns because that's what's on the screens now:  unknowns. Some of the actors and the director Kenneth Branagh have been nominated, too, to make Belfast the recipient of the most Golden Globe nominations [7].)

Throughout the movie, viewers agonize, wondering, hoping none of the stars of the show will be killed or injured in Northern Ireland in its turmoil of the 1960s amidst the time of "Troubles." That's when and where Mr. Branagh was growing up, and compelled, at last by covid to do something, he has made an autobiographical film of the conflict and its social and domestic effects.

Belfast is told from the perspective of a lad (Jude Hill; nominated) who delivers a remarkable performance in the story where the continuing violent conflict plays a secondary, backdrop role to the reality of family circumstances and change.  

Should the family go or stay?

Belfast has long pauses and great music (by Van Morrison), but an action film, it is not. Those who are Spiderman or James Bond fans will not cotton well to this.  

The inclusion of Dame Judith Dench as the almost unrecognizable grandma (who was not nominated) is a redeeming social plus. But, the housewife's role (played by Caitríona Balfe; nominated for supporting role) in her June Cleaver dress and personality is off by ten years and undermines a mother's and wife's importance.

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Film review: National Geographic's 'Rescue,' highly recommended.

You know the ending, but do you know how they got there?

It's a chilling and scary story, told in an excellent National Geographic documentary, The Rescue, about the 2018 saga of 12 boys and their assistant soccer coach who scurried inside a Northern Thailand cave which flooded, trapping them for more than two weeks.

Cave divers from around the world joined members of the Royal Thai Navy Seals and the U.S. Air Force Special Tactics in attempts to save the team.

Manmade forces juggled with Mother Nature and certain forecast monsoon rains in the breathtaking rescue race.

Experts on the ground doubted the know-how of two "old men" in flip flops and shorts, skilled underwater astronauts, who began to doubt their own abilities to rescue the team.

Forced by persistence and beliefs of the Thai people who believed the boys could be saved, 10,000 persons ultimately aided in the recovery efforts. 

The rescuers contacted a doctor friend in Australia to request that he consider administering sedatives to the boys to get them out, but the doctor resisted. He couldn't do it; the possibility was crazy.

But like the Thai people who would not give up believing in miracles, the cave divers would not give up asking the doctor until he agreed and journeyed to Thailand.

Cave divers Rick Stanton and John Volanthen from The Rescue/National Geographic

Splices of tape show the 24/7 actions underwater which become a horror show, ultimately ending in death.

Each of the star rescuers is interviewed at length; they describe their backgrounds growing up, when some were bullied, and many were loners, like the nerds at my high school who became the biggest achievers.

What is missing in this tale is why and how the boys went into the cave, why they went so far and why their coach led them.

Since Netflix retained rights to the boys' stories, no first-person accounts by any of them are included in the National Geographic film, an unnoticed absence, save the reasons for their entering the cave in the first place.

That the boys and their coach survived underground for up to 17 days is astonishing and shows what can happen if you "believe" and do not give up.

The film fulfills National Geographic's goals: To "support a diverse, international community of changemakers ...who use the power of science, exploration, education, and storytelling to illuminate and protect the wonder of our world."

Take a hanky (or more than one). I figured I'd cry in the show. I did.

Husband and wife team, Elizabeth Chai Vasarhelyi and Jimmy Chin, directed and produced the film with producers John Battsek, PJ van Sandwijk, Bob Eisenhardt (also, editor).

Daniel Pemberton's music is out of this world.

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Film review: 'Las Siameses,' one of the year's best

At the movie's end, the man behind me said, "I feel like I've been to the dentist and had all my teeth pulled."

I felt like I had seen a masterpiece.

I nominate Las Siamesas for "Best International Feature Film" and Rita Cortese for "Best Performance by an Actress in an International Feature Film." She plays the mother, and Valeria Lois is the daughter who does a pretty good job herself in the movie about a mother/daughter relationship.

The Siamese Bond made its DC debut last weekend at Gala Hispanic Theatre where the Gala Film Fest presented six movies by female filmmakers in this "Latin American Innovation."

Las Siamesas is a black comedy which produces audience guffaws with hard-hitting lines the mom and daughter exchange while on a bus trip to the shore to see apartments which the daughter has inherited from her father.

The bus ride takes a back seat to the relationship, but its momentum heightens expectations.

Daylight gradually wanes, travelers disembark from the bus, and all that remains are the two women, two drivers and the audience, a voyeuristic passenger on an existential journey leading (surprise!) to a breakdown.

The ride darkens.

And where there is darkness, loneliness, and consenting adults, there is fire.

The sex scene is the best I can recall, one directed from a woman's perspective without male directors' obligatory exposed breasts. Thank you, Director Paula Hernandez.

The first kiss, the hidden skin, shadows, movements, the passion. Leaving much to the imagination which is as it should be and makes for a better experience.

Listen to the hum of the bus and the magnificent score. That cello! To perfectly match the mood and emphasize the turmoils the daughter and the mother endure.

What appears to be a simple set intensifies the script.

It's bleak, it's funny, it's sad, and arouses emotions, all the moving parts necessary for a successful film. Okay, so maybe the pauses could have been shortened, but otherwise, what to improve?

Las Siamesas has been nominated for several international awards with a victory claimed by Director Hernandez who wrote the script with Leonel D'Agostino.

On another night at the Festival, I saw Ya Me Voy (I'm Leaving Now) by Lindsey Cordero and Armando Croda filmed over two years in Brooklyn, about an undocumented immigrant who wrestles with going home or staying in New York where he can continue his relationships and his collections. It's highly recommended, too, but it was Las Siamesas which drove my fingers to the keyboard.

All films are in Spanish with English subtitles. Carlos Gutierrez curated.

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Book review: 'The Columnist' by Donald A. Ritchie, highly recommended for journalism scholars

Who's the Drew Pearson now? I can think of no one who fits the bill.

Drew Pearson (1897-1969) was a muckraking journalist who helped send four members of the U. S. Congress to prison, had two U.S. senators censured and was not timid when it came to writing and broadcasting scandals, making a few mistakes along the way, but, hey! Who's perfect?

The Columnist: Leaks, Lies, and Libel in Drew Pearson's Washington is a must for journalism students and 20th century American history buffs who need or want another revealing look inside what makes Washington tick.

Mr. Pearson was a man who dug deep, who persisted, who was hated by most of the presidents he covered, including
President Harry S. Truman who threatened to shoot Mr. Pearson because of the columnist's criticism of Truman's daughter and wife. (Pearson predicted a Thomas Dewey win.)

Pearson was unafraid of lawsuits and was sued many times, losing only once.

The infamous Joseph McCarthy, feared by most, bore the wrath of Mr. Pearson's writings and broadcasts.
Pearson stood firm in his denunciation of McCarthy but Pearson had advantages most did not: He had a bully pulpit with his column, radio and TV broadcasts, comparing McCarthy's tactics to Salem's witch-burnings.

At Washington's fancy Sulgrave Club, the demagogic McCarthy physically attacked Pearson at a dinner party until stopped by none other than U.S. Senator Richard M. Nixon.

Some of Pearson's sponsors were intimidated by his attacks on McCarthy and dropped his radio broadcasts. His anti-McCarthy crusade
cost Pearson his friendship with the columnist Walter Winchell whom Pearson labeled a "McCarthy cheerleader."

Upon Pearson's death, Jack Anderson (1922-2005), a Pearson protégé and Pulitzer Prize winner, took over the column and renamed it, "Washington Merry-Go-Round. Although Wikipedia claims it's the longest-running column in American history, the most recent column I could find is dated July 15, 2021.

The book has a striking cover, is well researched, and its 367 pages include 90 of index, an extensive bibliography, and notes. The author, Donald A. Ritchie, is historian emeritus of the U.S. Senate.



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Adventure on the 14th Street bus

A 14th Street bus/photo by Patricia Leslie

I told myself repeatedly over the few days before I rode public transportation to GALA Theatre that Friday night, I would not be intimidated by fear or a number.

I will ride and I will not drive, I said firmly.

And so I did.

The getting there was the easy part, on Metro from Tysons and then up 14th Street on Bus #52 from the McPherson Square station.

At GALA I saw a wonderful flamenco performance, and wanted to stay for the Spanish Embassy reception afterwards, but the back of my mind rumbled with the gnawing realization that public transportation awaited me at 10:30 at night in the edgy neighborhood.

I skipped the reception at the end of the show and left the theatre and crossed 14th to wait on a bus. Nearby, lights on a police car blinked.

I was happy to see the police car and thankful for the upcoming DC mayoral election, for, with the uptick in crime, Mayor Bowser just might have instructed the police to have “all hands on deck.” I hoped so.

At the corner only seconds passed before I was joined by another rider, a woman ranting and raving about Taco Bell: “I didn’t get fired!” she exclaimed. “I quit!” Over and over. She walked back and forth in front of me like a caged beast.

OK, I said to myself silently; I understand. But, where is the bus? 

There it was, ambling down the street at last, although only a few moments had passed since I had begun my wait.

We boarded, and I took a seat opposite the rear exit in case a sudden escape became necessary. The woman sat at the front and continued her loud rants.

Another passenger sat across the aisle from her and pulled out a liquor bottle from his jacket pocket and offered her a drink.

“I don’t need that!” she bellowed.

We passed the Taco Bell a few seconds later, and she pointed to it and screeched: “It’s gonna kill someone!”

I tried to look ahead and out the windows, to avoid "engagement" and locking eyes with anyone.

When you ride a bus at night, you expect these outbursts. They are common.

The last three times I went to Mosaic Theater on H Street (pre-covid) the police were always involved in some form or fashion with activities on the free trolley car.

But that was then, and this was now.

14th seemed loaded with police cars every few blocks with red lights blinking on their car tops. I was grateful. Who wants to "defund the police"?

The bus continued its ramble down the street, stopping and starting to let passengers off and on, while the man and the woman continued their exchange which escalated quickly, and he pulled out a cigarette.

Was he going to light up on the bus? What would the driver do? But, behind his hard plastic window and from all I could see, the driver was oblivious to the action behind him, likely used to it all.

When the man called the woman the “n” word (he was black, too), the woman became enraged. Their conversation grew louder, more heated and indignant until she challenged the man to a fight.

On the bus?

They stood in the aisleway, apart, weaving back and forth in time with the bus’s motions and, began to dance the fighter's dance, yelling their words of conflict and hate.

This performance was more than the flamenco, and it was free!

But, at the flamenco, I wasn't afraid, like I was on the bus, sensing danger since I was within arm’s reach of the two fighters who moved in a semi-circle gnarling at each other, like they were in a boxing ring.

Where was McPherson Square?

I decided to get off at the next bus stop wherever it might be, and the woman got off with me, shouting: “This is not my stop!”

In my haste to cross the street and get away, I was too alarmed to look back to see if she re-boarded. Several blocks remained until the Metro station.

I hurried and descended to Metro's catacombs, happy to be safe.

Safe on the Metro?

The train was practically empty when it arrived and Yeeks! I was the only person to board the car.

I will not be afraid or intimidated, I said to myself. I will not; I cannot. But, I was. And still, I cannot stop; I will not.



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Flamenco enflames GALA

Edwin Aparicio in Salvador at GALA Hispanic Theatre/photo by Daniel Martinez

Mariana Gatto-Duran in Salvador at GALA Hispanic Theatre/photo by Daniel Martinez

The entrancing story, Salvador, presented by the Flamenco Aparicio Dance Company, is based on the life of choreographer and artistic director, Edwin Aparicio which debuted five years ago at GALA Hispanic Theatre.


Its revival this month with Mr. Aparicio, the company's founder, is one of two shows at GALA for the 17th annual Fuego Flamenco Festival, a celebration co-founded by Mr. Aparicio.

Today and tomorrow the flamenco menu includes De paso by the Sara Perez Dance Company with Rubén Puertas, prize winner of Madrid’s prestigious Certamen of Dance competition.

Edwin Aparicio dances his life's story in Salvador at GALA Hispanic Theatre/photo by Daniel Martinez

Salvador opens in the 1980s in El Salvador where Mr. Aparicio lived as a child amidst gangs and soldiers who often kidnapped children to mold them into soldiers.

After his parents leave for the U.S., he's left in the care of his grandmother, his only solace to provide him comfort amidst the dangers on the streets and it's to her, his other grandmother, and those of the co-director, Aleksey Kulikov, that Salvador is dedicated.

Act I ends with Mr. Aparicio's gradual exit from the stage while his life resumes as a young Edwin (danced by Ricardo Osorio Ruiz). A distressing separation from his grandmother, reminding the audience of their own painful farewells from loved ones, unfolds as the boy departs to join his parents.

Life in Washington, D.C., their residence, was hardly any better for the youngster. His family's Mt. Pleasant community erupts in a 1981 riot of cultural war and property destruction.

Dance offers young Edwin some respite, but he is told he doesn't look the part of a ballet dancer, but suddenly, the doors to flamenco open.

He heads to Spain which opens the third and final act. There, he trains with renowned teachers before his debut in Madrid in 2001. 

Over time Mr. Aparicio dances countless solos on stages throughout the U.S. and performs major roles with the Washington National Opera and the Washington Ballet.  Today, Mr. Aparicio is a faculty member of the Washington School of Ballet. He is the founder of the Flamenco Aparicio Dance Company and received the Cross of the Order of Civil Merit in 2015 from King Felipe VI of Spain.

All through Salvador, large photographs from the era are posted high on the backdrop to help lay the foundations of Aparicio's life.

In colorful attire, six female flamenco dancers with sexy looks matching their motions, embellish Aparicio's life with heels beating on the floor to become another musical instrument in the orchestra of four. 

Those four almost steal the show with their strong, unrelenting voices and music of the time.

Amparo Heredia and percussionist and singer, Francisco Orozco cry the anguish of Aparicio throughout the performance while Richard Marlow strums his guitar without pause.

Gonzalo Grau, a two-time Grammy nominee and Salvador's musical director and composer, plays keyboard.

For the finale, Aparicio pairs with his younger self (Ruiz) to dance. 

After the ending, when all the performers and orchestra members came to the stage for audience accolades last weekend, co-artistic director Kulikov joined the dance party and showed how he could stomp his heels and shake a tail feather, too, for the delight of all.

Production staff included P. Vanessa Losada, production manager and light board operator; Rachael Sheffer, interim production manager; Delbis Cardona, production assistant; Devin Mahoney, technical director with Steve Cosby, Renegade Productions; Christopher Annas-Lee, lighting with Hailey LaRoe; Brandon Cook, sound; Kevin Alvarenga and Joel Galvez, house managers.

Sona Kharatian, Washington Ballet, was the ballet choreographer.

Dancers: Cosima Amelang, Mariana Gatto-Duran, Catherina Irwin, Sara Jerez Marlow, Dana Shoenberg, Kyoko Terada.

Guest dancers: Noura Sander, Washington Ballet, and Anna Menendez, flamenco teacher

At the end of the night, co-directors Edwin Aparicio, left, and Aleksey Kulikov celebrated flamenco at GALA Hispanic Theatre/photo by Patricia Leslie

What: XVII Fuego Flamenco Festival

Masks: Masks and proof of vaccination or recent negative COVID test required for all performances.

When: Saturday, Nov. 13 at 8 p.m.; Sunday, Nov. 14 at 2 p.m.

Where: GALA Hispanic Theatre, 3333 14th St NW, Washington, DC 20010.

Tickets: $48; $35 for seniors (65+), military, and students; $35, group sales (10 or more); $25 ages 25 and under. To purchase, call (202) 234-7174 or visit www.galatheatre.org.

Handicapped accessible

Duration: About two hours with one intermission

Metro stations: Columbia Heights is one block away or get off at McPherson Square, take bus #52 or #54 up 14th, or, instead of the bus, walk two miles, save money and expend calories! Lots of places to eat along the way.

Parking: With GALA's validation, a flat rate of $4 is available at Giant grocery around the corner or pay $1.50/hour at the Target nearby.

For more information: Call (202) 234-7174 and/or email info@galatheatre.org

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