Not necessarily comprised of surrealist works, Sur-real is a bit of a mixed exhibit bag now showing at Woodward Gallery on the Lower East Side. Participating artists include Jean-Michel Basquiat, Thomas Buildmore, Deborah Claxton, Sybil Gibson, Richard Hambleton, Kosbe, David Larson, Mark Mastroianni, Margaret Morrison, NoseGo, Kenji Nakayama, Dennis Oppenheim, Robert Rauschenberg, James Rosenquist, stikman, Jeremy Szopinski, Francesco Tumbiolo, Jo Ellen Van Ouwerkerk, Cristina Vergano, Kurt Vonnegut Jr. and Andy Warhol, so there’s something for just about every taste in modern and contemporary art. Continue reading Sur-Real at Woodward Gallery
Actor Michael Sacks as Billy Pilgrim
Kurt Vonnegut is probably my favorite author of all time, and my favorite film adapted from one of his awesome books is Slaughterhouse Five. It is really just the best movie ever, meaning it’s right up there with A Clockwork Orange and Harold and Maude. I watched Slaughterhouse Five last night on the Sundance Channel and it was just as mind-blowing as I remembered from the ten or twelve times I’d seen it before. But something I noticed in the film’s credits for the first time is that the late great modern classical pianist Glen Gould plays all the Bach music on the soundtrack. Glen Gould is amazing.
When the movie was over, I was compelled to run to the Google and try to find out whatever happened to Michael Sacks, the actor who played the lead role of Billy Pilgrim, because, honestly, I don’t remember ever seeing him in any other films. What I found out is that Sacks retired from the film industry in 1984 and went to work on Wall Street. Crazy.
Author Kurt Vonnegut has passed away at the age of 84. He was my favorite author of all time and my single greatest writing influence. His book Slapstick literally changed my life. He is the reason I started writing. I am so sad right now.
Here is a passage from another favorite Vonnegut novel, Slaughterhouse Five, which was based in part on his own experiences as a WWII Prisoner of War.
“A guard would go to the head of the stairs every so often to see what it was like outside, then he would come down and whisper to the other guards. There was a fire-storm out there. Dresden was one big flame. The one flame ate everything organic, everything that would burn.
It wasn’t safe to come out of the shelter until noon the next day. When the Americans and their guards did come out, the sky was black with smoke. The sun was an angry little pinhead. Dresden was like the moon now, nothing but minerals. The stones were hot. Everybody else in the neighborhood was dead.
So it goes.”