ARTS IN PARTS
One of my prize L.A. possessions is the MOCA membership card. In many ways it is a ticket to worlds otherwise unknown. That is, although I usually have a sense of what to expect in the way of an exhibit, the real live experience of seeing or hearing the exhibit offers no preparation. And so it was during a recent jaunt thereto. Two staff people suggested that I head for the Geffen Gallery (previously called the Temporary Contemporary) instead of wasting time at the Grand Avenue building. I took their advice and in my usual downtown determined way, found a parking space with 90 minutes on it! (A rare but important find!)

Before going on let me say life remains full of surprises! The theme of the exhibit is performance art. In the ever-changing, ever-revealing world of “things art” there are two components I am not yet ready for: Abstract art in the wide ranging displays of drawings and paintings and Performance art. My rejection is not because of the spontaneity (which can be a groove); but a rejection based simply on my attempted but failed ability to figure out what in the world is going on(?) What did/does the artist in question have in mind? Is there a message, and if so, what is it? I accept that the communication might be a very private one...between the artist and his or her (bizarre or “straight”) muse. If so, why not keep it that way? Let the work stay tucked away in some dusky garret. In other words, why display it at all. Sure it’s the artist’s “right” but it is also the “right” of the viewer (who, by the way may have shelled out some coin$ to participate in the viewing) to have some semblance of connection, of communication.

Anyway this performance stuff really tripped me out. There was, for example, a young attractive artist who inserted a 10 foot strip of paper on which was typed a series of poetic expressions into a presumably private place. Her performance consisted of removing it; she later conversed with the audience about (one might suppose) the meaning of it all.

Lest the reader be confused, what I share here was not live action; but that which I gained through viewing numerous photos and a number of videos at the museum. There was also accompanying narrative placed near the photos.

Then there was the artist whose performance consisted of placing his tongue - I say again his tongue - into a large container of wet cement. As cement is know to do, it dried with his tongue rather firmly embedded. At some (“Help!”) point in time the cement was chiseled away. [My guess is that he asked for assistance via sign language!]

Another mind blower was the artist who, in order to fully incorporate his written work - a few strips of paper with poetry written on them - made a couple of slits on his arm, then tightly folded the strips of paper and placed them inside the cuts. Over time the paper dissolved and (of course!!) the only reminder was as series of life long scars. The purpose? You tell me!!

Some of the displays were interesting, even inspiring, a number of unique uses of random sounds and (slide) projected images. Other stuff, and I use that word deliberately, didn’t border on being ridiculous, but was precisely that. I liked the display titled “A stitch in time” which consisted of a long swath of suspended cloth. Viewers were invited to stitch onto the cloth any item they had with them. Suspended above the hammock-like cloth were perhaps 100 spools of different colored thread. The sewing needles were harder to find; but I finally fond one and sewed a business card onto the cloth. Sewing is not my forte, but I have sewn socks and buttons in the past with enviable results. This time, however, I was messy. Yet oddly enough, the nature of the display seemed to “say” that it was O.K. not to function like a professional seamstress. I had fun making the mess!

The range of what these artists want to “perform about” is wide. I looked for threads or themes but couldn’t identify any other that random acts of sometimes nutty human behavior. Yes that is judgmental. I was and remain struck by the recurring emphasis on: male and female (especially male) genitalia, self-immolation, blood, animal carcasses and what I remain prudish enough to label the seamy side of human existence. But at the same time I stretch to assume that a seeming concentration on given themes or objects is a way to conquer our negative views on or approaches to them. Things sexual are continuing anathema in the western world. To blatantly display, talk about, revisit them graphically or symbolically might well be a way to get us all to be more accepting (i.e., less prudish!) of their clearly natural presence and purpose. And polite lectures or sophisticated representations apparently miss the mark.

And so the performers will continue to perform in their own special way. And they will continue doing so until there is nothing left to perform for or about. And that will never be.

THE CLINTON CAPER
In this quick look, I’ll attempt to look at a few aspects of what did not didn’t happen from a “new” perspective. I say “attempt” because across the country and in various international media centers, perhaps everything has been surfaced and dissected and put back into place...only to be dragged out and super-explored over and over again. I must say before getting (ahem!) serious, that some of the best jokes of the entire 1990’s have been bandied about. Some are sheer comedic genius other are uniquely American - i.e., crass.

Mum’s the non-word: Have you noticed how (from an official stance) the religious institutions of this country have been silent to the point of one wondering about their very knowledge of what is unfolding. Sure, it’s one thing and a fitting thing not to be prematurely judgmental. It is always a safe and reasonable position to take. If nothing else, it is indeed fair. But does that urge total silence?

I’m not convinced that the quietude can be traced to the belief(?) of religious institutions in the principles of the republic that one is considered innocent until blah blah blah. So be it. Rather it cuts deeper than that. Think back to the OJ Caper. All the “great drama” (i.e., soap box) ingredients: a presumably bright, energetic, ambitious young woman from (dig it) Beverly Hills, USA. Off to Washington to make her mark on history. Yep.

Then there is the Yale/Cambridge educated ex-southern governor...from one of the poorer, laughing stock states: poor and rural. Where’s Arkansas? Ambitious and bright enough to get himself elected to the Number 1 position - no less than President of the United States. And linked by the oldest connection known to mortal woman and man..You got it: SEX.

Clinton never backs away from what he prays for. A commitment to the high moral ground principles of this country. One would have to do a speech content analysis to know the exact number of times Clinton has referenced the Judeo-Christian ethic. Well...here we have the connection coming to life for real. Christian meets Jew and...[Before going on let me make it clear that I (by way of DOWN FRONT!) do indeed believe that “something” happened. Actually more than a little something but that subject is not the focus here.]

Anyway who would dare approach this episode from that point of view? Nobody. Who would dare even suggest the linkage of 2 of the world’s great religions? Nobody. And why? Because there are times when the religious world is hard pressed to make religious differences or likenesses totally irrelevant. Anything else would be much too painful. Let’s come at it differently: To say that religion is relevant renders the 2 faith entirely too vulnerable - which means they would have nothing to say publicly. To say that the religion of Clinton and Lewinsky is irrelevant is to back away from what may presumably been a very real part of each person BUT something which was ever so conveniently set aside during the encounter(s). Like..it’s a lose-lose situation no matter how one cuts it. The faiths failed the individuals or the individuals failed their faiths. [I hope this makes sense.]

Let me try one other approach: If what we call religion is truly relevant, then there are no actions which one might take (or, as in Jimmy Carter’s case even consider taking) which would fall outside the religious purview of humankind. EVERYTHING “fits” - which is not the same as “everything is acceptable. So...Clinton (Christian) and Lewinsky (Jewish) got it on and the code which ties the two great faiths together was put on hold. Who would dare to make such an observation?

Moving right along: I am reminded of the young Black woman (Divine) who “encountered” the young white actor (Hugh?) under the dimmed neon lights of Hollywood Boulevard. In quasi-honest and gossipy circles this wasn’t east meets west but (here it comes y’all) black meets white. Up front and (my goodness) oh so personal! The world of pop culture snickered and paraded both parties before the cameras and just as could be reasonably expected...ah ha!..moved on to other matters. I have no argument with that; but in the situation under discussion here, why (2nd inquiry) hasn’t anyone called it like it “do be?” Why hasn’t anyone taken the liberty (courage?) of using the 4 letter “s” word in referencing dear, sweet, misused, confused, maligned Monica?

We all know the answer. Because that designation is reserved for life’s lesser kind. Those who come from dysfunctional families, single, confused moms, deranged and abusive papas, druggies, life’s discards, the “f--- ups” who can't or won’t help themselves. But sociology be damned... some women like some men “have a plan” and morality and discretion and all those other so-called antiquities have little, if anything, to do with it. And position, background, race, economic and other privilege have nothing to do with it. For here and now let’s just call it the “PKS” - a.k.a. the Presidential Knee pads Syndrome. And that neither a bitter nefarious low blow [pun totally unintended] that’s just truth! Monica was/is a Beverly Hills Maven.

Another thought just came to me: When some folks screw up (oops again!) the world is ever so anxious to do a “Where did he/she come from?” number - which means a community or neighborhood focus. Well, in this special instance one alludes to Beverly Hills in a cutsie sort of way. We have heard “Monica ‘90210’ Lewinsky...making it clear via zip (or is it zipper?) code from whence she cometh. But no matter how you look at it, Beverly Hills comes out unscathed. Yet with classic accuracy, the worldly wise have to admit that “hot mamas” are no respecters of neighborhoods...their own included. South Central L.A. has no monopoly in life’s dubious doin’s. But there is no conversation about that either.

Finally, bold and brave and stoic Hillary, the consummate faithful wife. Well, considering who she is and what she represents, her actions are highly appropriate. In front of glaring lights and (no respecter of family confidentiality) snoopy reporters, she does what she ought to do: stand by her Bill. But in the quasi privacy of the White House kitchen, she may have contemplated picking up a frying pans of warmer-than-room-temperature grease and making a rather dramatic point with “the spouse.” Whatever one concludes, the President is most fortunate that only a caper has been cut!

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