The film Jojo Rabbit premiered on HBO over the weekend, which made me very happy. It hits a lot of sweet spots for me.
A great cast and a script filled with a beguiling mix of dark satire and tragic poignancy. Strong visuals. Big laughs and plenty of tears. Ridiculous (but still scary) Nazis.
Hitler eating a unicorn.
Yeah, you read that right.
There’s even some poetry from Rainer Maria Rilke as the film ends, a snippet from his poem Go to the Limits of Your Longing, which is shown at the top. Words that seem applicable to this time, for sure.
It also uses its soundtrack brilliantly. It begins with the Beatles singing their German version of I Want to Hold Your Hand over archival clips of Hitler’s adoring fans at huge nationalistic rallies that are chilling in their magnitude and fervor. Images from the infamous Nuremberg rally always puts a knot in my stomach. The film ends with the German performance from David Bowie of his always rousing Heroes.
Filmmaker Taika Waititi also makes brilliant use of the song Everybody’s Gotta Live. It’s a song from 1972 from a band of that era, Love, that is very underappreciated. Led by the late Arthur Lee, it was an interesting group, a multiracial group that dabbled in folk rock and psychedelia a la the Byrds. Their 1967 release, Forever Changes, is on the Rolling Stone’s list of the 500 Greatest Rock Albumsand was added to the Library of Congress’s National Recording Registry in 2011.
Even so, I am sure most of us haven’t heard much of their work. But it shines in Jojo Rabbit and is certainly worth examining further.
Here’s a video with the lyrics and images from the film just to give you taste. If you get a chance to see the film, I recommend it highly. But be forewarned, that it is art and, as such, is a subjective thing. What I love may not move you at all.
Take a look and give a listen then have a good day. We all deserve one.
“One way or another, all the bridges between that time and this one have been burned. Time’s a reach, too, you know, just like the one that lies between the islands and the mainland, but the only ferry that can cross it is memory, and that’s like a ghost-ship – if you want it to disappear, after awhile it will.”
― Stephen King, Dolores Claiborne
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I call this piece, at 16″ by 40″ on canvas, Carried Across. Included in my current annual show at the West End Gallery, it’s a painting that brims with potential interpretations for me. The ferry between the living and the dead is the one that jumps out, of course.
But the one offered up above, taken from a Stephen King novel, probably meshes best with my personal view of this painting.
We are always losing people as age takes its toll. Apart from just the loss of that person and all that that entails, we also lose a bridge to their experiences and the memories they held of them. Personal histories, lesser known details and larger myths are often lost in the void as this bridge collapses.
That came to mind in a very personal way the other day as I was able to visit my father for the first time in four months.His nursing facility had instituted a process that allowed one family member to visit a resident under very strict guidelines and I was able to see him in an outdoor courtyard, under an open tent. The process has since been put on hold as a staff member tested positive for the virus.
But sitting there with him was difficult. He was in a large reclining wheelchair and his head was bandaged in a turban-like manner to cover the wound and infection on the side of his head. He was way gone from the fentanyl and morphine he is given to ease the pain, his eyes only fluttering open for milliseconds at any given time. The nurse tried to point me out but he wasn’t able to move his focus my way.
I sat there for a bit just watching him. His hands went to his head covering in a rhythmic way, running his fingers lightly over the cotton mesh that held it in place. At one point he removed his mask and, with eyes completely closed, held it out in front of him while neatly folding it up. He then tried to out it in his pocket under the blanket that covered him. He then checked his wristwatch which was completely covered by the protective arm coverings he wears to prevent him from picking at the sores on his arms. He did this, too, without opening his eyes but seemed to be satisfied and let his head drop back to the one side where fell naturally.
I chuckled lightly at that. But having him there in front of me, still alive but so very far away at the same time, reminded me of all the stories and memories that are lost to us now. The good and bad, the funny and the tragic, the day to day reminiscences– all gone and inaccessible. I have known this for some time as we have witnessed the progress of his dementia but there was a finality in that visit.
It was like I had made that crossing on that ferry and had returned with a still empty chair.
Over the years, I have often regretted the lost opportunities in seeking out the stories and memories that bind us to our preceding generations. This is made especially clear when I work on genealogy and come across episodes or people that I would love to know more about. How they really were, how they talked, the little foibles and details that made them human that can’t be captured in documents or news reports.
That is the stuff of memory.
Maybe that should be the subtitle for this piece– Carried Across ( The Stuff of Memory).
Okay, here’s a song to go along with this painting, an attachment I made yesterday when the song came up on my playlist. It’s The Passengerfrom the godfather of punk, Iggy Pop. It’s a great tune, one that seems to be a staple for every alt-rock singer that comes along to cover.
Iggy Pop is an interesting and often downplayed character in the annals of rock music. One of my favorite memories of him was his appearance in 1977 on the Dinah Shore show where he sat down with the always hospitable Dinah Shore, David Bowie and Rosemary Clooney to talk about cutting himself with a broken bottle as part of a performance. It came out years later that he and Dinah Shore– who had an extremely long list of relationships and hookups through the decades– were an item for a bit. But seeing him on a show singing Fun Time on the same show where Rosemary Clooney singsCome On-a My House is everything you could hope for on a 1970’s daytime talk show.
One more little factoid: The sons of comedian Soupy Sales were members of Iggy’s band at that time. Younger readers are probably asking who the hell is Soupy Sales. Ask your parents or grandparents before those bridges burn down.
Anyway, here’s The Passenger. Have a good day if you can.
Maybe one of the good things that might come out of this crisis is that people will look at the jobs done by themselves and others in a different way.
I read a news story where they were talking with a man who had worked for a food distributor, the kind that delivers food products to stores and restaurants, for many years. He had always thought of his job as a mere job and felt that it didn’t have much consequence in the bigger picture of the world.
But now, with the crisis putting a spotlight on the importance of the food chain, he began to see that what he did had significance, that it did, indeed, make a difference. He felt a pride in what he was doing that he had never felt before. He felt that he was working with a purpose now and not just droning mindlessly along.
This new perception changed everything for him.
I mention this because I think of those people who work the many thankless service jobs that fuel our modern world and who are still at the switch today, often putting themselves at risk in the time of this virus. Firefighters and EMTs. Law enforcement and corrections officers. Mail carriers and delivery drivers. Truck drivers, warehouse workers and stock clerks.
And especially the doctors, nurses, therapists, aides, food service and cleaning people that make up our hospitals.
And perhaps the most overlooked and least appreciated, those people who work hard at the supermarkets and other stores that are still open.
One of my first jobs was working in a Loblaws grocery store, working as both a stock clerk and cashier. It made me appreciate what a thankless job it could be and I try my best to be appreciative of any cashier or anyone who has to have people in front of them constantly through the day. It’s a hard thing to do, to maintain a consistent demeanor as a wide variety of folks parade before you for hour after hour, some not so nice at all.
And to factor in the risk from this virus as they are serving these people just a foot or two away, who are unknown to them and may well be carrying it, makes their efforts seem almost heroic.
I am sure they don’t think of themselves as being heroic. Most have no choice and have to be there just to maintain their life. They just see it as doing their job.
But often heroism comes down to that simple thing– just doing your job.
Heroism doesn’t come from those seeking accolades or praise. It doesn’t come from beating down an opponent and pounding your chest.
It comes from regular people doing best what they can when they are needed in the face of a threat because they have no other choice.
And that’s what these folks are doing right now.
No doubt that some, maybe many, will contract the virus. And that makes me feel for them even more. So, if you must go to a store (do not go if you can help it!) maintain your distance and look at your cashier for a moment. Think of the risk they are taking so you can have a bit of food. Then thank them with some sincerity.
Maybe they will feel like a hero if just for a moment. Or just for one day…
Okay, that means I get to play one of my all time favorites, which I am always looking for an excuse to play. Here’s Heroesfrom David Bowie.
I don’t have much to say today. Oh, I have plenty to say but I am going to spare you having to hear it. I just want to get to work this morning seeing as it’s March 1 which translates to me as march forward as I prep for my annual shows. It’s total immersion time.
So, let’s keep it short today. I want to show a coupling of a song and a painting which I think works well together. The painting is above and is titled Blaze. It’s one of those pieces that have somehow found their way back to me and this one always confounds me. It felt so right and easy– graceful–off the hand. Even now, I always stop and look at this piece for the longest times, wondering why it is here. I guess it just hasn’t met its rightful partner yet.
The song that I matched up with Blaze is Wild Is the Windfrom Nina Simone. It was originally recorded by Johnny Mathis for a movie of same title in the 1950’s. It’s a little overproduced for my taste but the song is undeniably strong. Nina Simone took it and made it into a spare and special song. It was used as the title track for her 1966 album which is considered one of the greatest albums of the 1960’s, remarkable in a decade filled with legendary albums. David Bowie also is noted for performing this song, which was done as a tribute to Simone.
I am not feeling celebratory on this Fourth of July. I have strong feelings about the ideals of this nation and the recent events here challenge my belief that those ideals can prevail or even merely hold on. There is just a bit too much irony in today celebrating our independence from what we viewed as the grip of cruel tyranny in 1776. We are weakening our country when we accept cruelty and selfishness as an aspect of our governance and national character. And make no mistake about what I am saying, selfish cruelty is weakness and we are witness to that currently. Here’s a post from several years back that I run every now and then on this day, speaking to our better ideals. Enjoy your 4th.
Jasper Johns “Flag”
Another Fourth of July.
Parades. Picnics. Fireworks. Red, white and blue. That’s the shorthand version of this day. The actual meaning of this day is much harder to capture, probably more so for Americans than for those from other countries who view us from a distance. I think we sometimes lose sight of the idea and ideal of America in our day to day struggle to maintain our own lives. But even that struggle is symptomatic of the basis of our nation, reminding us that anything worth preserving requires work and maintenance.
For me, America is not a static ideal, a credo written in granite that will always be there. It is vaporous and always changing, like a dense fog. But it is an inviting fog, one that is warm on the skin and invites you in with hazy promises of possibility.
And maybe that is all America ever was and will be– the promise of possibility.
Maybe it is the sheer potential of a better and safer life, the possibility of remaking one’s self, that defines our ideal America. We are at our best when we are open and inviting, offering our opportunity and empathy to all. We are a long way from our ideal when we close our doors and try to capture the vapor that is America all for ourselves. It is not ours to hold– we are simply caretakers of an ideal, one that brought most of our ancestors here.
Maybe this doesn’t make any sense. Since it is such a hazy thing, this amorphous fog that is our ideal, we all see it in different ways. This is just how I see it.
Here’s a video of the song America from Simon and Garfunkel, as performed by David Bowie. This is not a flag waving, chest thumping anthem but it speaks as much to the meaning of the American ideal in that simple chorus — all gone to look for America— as the very best Sousa march.
Wasn’t going to write anything today as I have a full schedule in prepping work for delivery of my June Principle Gallery show combined with my visit to see my dad at the local nursing facility where has lived with his dementia for most of the last three years. But I began listening to some music and when Heroes from David Bowie came on, it made me scroll back through some older posts and I came across the one below.
Heroism is a term that has been warped a bit by our fascination with comic book heroism. On a Memorial day weekend, we should be reminded that many of the people who we memorialize for their service and sacrifice didn’t have superhero qualities. They were no different than anyone else when faced with adversity and danger– scared, confused and wishing it was all over. But heroism comes in fighting through these emotions and simply doing the task that is required of them. To simply do the right thing and take responsibility for those things before them that they can control. To unselfishly serve in the moment.
Sounds simple, doesn’t it? Doing one’s duty without giving thought to how the outcome might affect you is a rare thing. I guess that is why we celebrate holidays devoted to service and heroism. And it’s especially rare in these perilous times where a single, simple act of heroism from a small handful people in congress could completely change the direction in which this country is headed.
That might be too much to ask of them. Heroism is not for everyone, I suppose. But for the rest of us, let us put aside our selfish concerns and serve someone and something greater than ourselves. Just do what is right. Then we can all be heroes.
Here’s the post from several years back:
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Keeping up the theme that was the subject of an earlier post this week, I decided that for this Sunday morning’s musical selection I would play a lovely version of Heroes from David Bowie. It’s an acoustic version (with Gail Ann Dorsey accompanying him on vocals and bass) from a 1996 performance at the Bridge School Benefit, an annual concert began by Neil Young to benefit the Bay Area school that helps kids with severe speech and physical impairments. In that context, the song takes on additional layers of meaning as you see the many parents in the audience with their children, many cradling them.
Heroism.
Looking for an image to illustrate this post, I did an image search by punching in the word hero. It was all superheroes and warriors which saddened me because I know that heroism is something far more than that. It’s about doing those things that need to be done, about taking responsibility in order to serve a purpose beyond your own needs. We think of it as a rare thing but it is evident every day in the actions of those people who give so much of themselves to others.
For me, an example of this came to me in a very personal way. When my mother was struggling in the last months of her battle with cancer, I visited her for last time. Her and my father had been together for about 46 years at that point, years which could be described as turbulent at best. For such a long married couple, they had an odd love/hate relationship which had them always on the edge of huge screaming battles that were fraught with violence. They were terrible things to see and even as a child I often wondered why they remained together. But they did and as she neared the end of her life, Dad became her cook, her maid, her nurse, and her driver to the many treatments that made up the last months of her life. Her everything.
When I made my last visit, I noticed a photo on her bedside table. It was photo of the two of them together from several years before, standing at some Florida site drenched in sun. On the cheap little frame, underneath my father was a word formed in simple block letters, those kind of press-on letters that you rub on from a sheet.
It was the word Hero.
Now, at that point in my life I didn’t see my father in heroic terms. Far from it. No, he was and is a very flawed human being with many traits that are far from any definition of heroism. But in this case, he took on the form of a hero for my mother and in that moment, looking at that photo, for myself as well. I realized that the word was not about great accomplishment but rather about following that need to serve another and just doing the right thing in a moment of need.
So it can be for everyone, as the song says :
I, I will be king And you, you will be queen Though nothing will drive them away We can beat them, just for one day We can be heroes, just for one day
I finally came across the quote at the top from the late Arthur Ashe that seemed to best fit the thought .
There is an electric fire in human nature tending to purify – so that among these human creatures there is continually some birth of new heroism. The pity is that we must wonder at it, as we should at finding a pearl in rubbish.
–John Keats
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I find myself nodding in agreement with the above words from the poet John Keats. It seems that there is ample evidence that humans have the desire and capability for living heroic lives. Yet to do so is a rare and wondrous thing.
A pearl in rubbish, as he says.
Maybe our failure is that we only see heroism defined in epic terms, not in the bravery of the responsibility that comes in making everyday decisions that opt for doing what is right and not expedient or self-serving. Not every hero wears a cape or jumps from buildings.
It’s a matter of perspective.
I think of when my mother was dying from cancer many years ago now. In her final months, she had a picture next to her bed of my father in a small cheap frame with press-on letters on the bottom leg of it that spelled out the word hero.
Now, hero is not a term I have often equated with my father, a man who is deeply flawed in many ways. I confess that, in this aspect, the apple doesn’t fall from the tree.
But this was especially evident when it came to his relationship with my mother. Most of their life together was loud and contentious. They were always one word or a single side glance away from their next battle royale, the horror shows of mine and my siblings’ childhoods.
But somehow through the years of anger and adversity she still saw something in this man that she recognized as being heroic. Maybe it was that he had simply stayed, had maintained a sense of responsibility and caring for her that became very obvious in her last days.
I will never know for sure. The psychology of it all evades me. But that cheap frame on a dying woman’s bedside table with that word hero on it still lingers with me and always will.
It’s a matter of perspective.
I didn’t plan on writing this for today’s post, didn’t seek to be so personally biographical. It just came and I guess I can live with that. I only wanted to jot down a little something to introduce the song below for this Sunday morning music. It is one of my favorite David Bowie songs, Heroes, performed by the Ukulele Orchestra of Great Britain. I know it sounds like it should be a joke or a parody but it’s a wonderful version. I think my mom might well understand it.
I saw a short segment on TCM (Turner Classic Movies) that they run between their films at this time of year. It’s their look back at all of the people associated with filmdom who have died this past year. Every year it seems that I find myself being surprised at the number of well known actors, directors, composers, etc who have passed away in that year.
This year was no different.
But they flashed a shot of David Bowie and it reminded me of the musical talents that passed away this year. Bowie. Prince. Leonard Cohen and so many more that some were lost in the shuffle.
One who slipped away somewhat unnoticed in those surreal days after the election [sic] was musician and songwriter Leon Russell. A wonderful writer and a gifted pianist, he collaborated with just about everybody in the recording industry in a career that spanned almost 60 years.
I never thought he got his rightful appreciation after his death so I thought I’d share a Christmas song of his that also goes under the radar in the great flood of holiday music that overwhelms every year at this time. It’s called Slippin’ Into Christmas and has a bluesy edge that kind of fits this year.
In the last few months we lost two of the most unique and transcendent musicians of our time, David Bowie in January and now Prince. Luckily for us, both had long and prolific careers and left large musical legacies behind. I admired Prince greatly and I think that is all there is to say, especially after the millions of words written and spoken over the past few days. I don’t think I can stand to see another tweet on one of the news channels form some celebrity saying that this is how it sounds when doves cry.
So, instead of trying to dig up some Prince that you might not have heard in the last few days, I thought for this Sunday morning music I would go in another direction and play someone who was one of Prince’s early influences, Sly and the Family Stone. It’s his performance of I Want to Take You Higher at Woodstock in 1969. I’ve played this clip here before but I am going to play it again just because I think it is a great performance and a great piece of film. I think you can see how Prince took elements of Sly’s work and made it into something distinctly his own. That synthesis is part of artistry.
Well, it is Sunday morning and that usually means that it is time for some music here. Since it is the last Sunday before Christmas a little holiday music is called for. This is a song that I have played here before. It’s that odd pairing between Bing Crosby and David Bowie and the song The Little Drummer Boy/ Peace on Earth.
The story behind how it came about is pretty interesting. In 1977, 73 year old Bing Crosby was in the midst of what would be his last British tour. While there , producers put together Crosby’s annual holiday special for American TV, this time with an English theme, a Merrie Olde Christmas. It was filmed in September with a number of British celebrity guests, including the 30 year old rock star David Bowie. Bing actually introduced and showed the video to Bowie’s song Heroes on the special.
On the day of shooting, Bowie learns that he is scheduled to sing Little Drummer Boy with Crosby. He balks, telling producers that he hates the song and if that’s the song they wanted he might as well leave. He said he was only there because his mother was huge Crosby fan.
Producers and composers went to work. In just over an hour, they produced an original tune, Peace on Earth, that would be sung by Bowie as a counterpoint to Bing’s Little Drummer Boy. The two singers both liked the new addition and the arrangement and ran through it together several times in less than an hour before recording the final version.
Bing Crosby died less than a month later and the special ran as scheduled in December of 1977. The pairing of Bing and Bowie was considered an oddity then and producers of the show and song thought that was the end of it. But bootlegs of the song circulated for several years, gaining in popularity to the point that RCA decided to release it as single in 1982. It has become one of the most popular holiday songs in the intervening years.
I know it’s one of my favorites. Have a great Sunday…