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T. Renner, "Improvisation for Frank Gehry (Cityscape)," 2009, acyrlic on coated card stock, 6" x 4".
All pieces are for sale all of the time. Contact anthonyrenner at wustl dot edu.
Art historians have called Tina Modotti (1896-1942) "the best-known unknown photographer of the 20th century." She also acted in silent films in Hollywood, went to Mexico with Edward Weston in 1922, was a nurse in Spain's Civil War and a prominent Communist, antifascist and internationalist. Partner to equally extraordinary men, friend to the most creative minds of her generation, she died alone in a taxi cab at the age of 46.
Shadows, Fire, Snow is her first truly satisfying biography. Patricia Albers has built upon Mildred Constantine's Tina Modotti: A Fragile Life and Margaret Hooks's Tina Modotti: Photographer and Revolutionary, but hers is a more deftly researched book that takes greater risks. In tightly written passages -- almost too dense at times -- she beautifully evokes pivotal scenes in Modotti's artistic and political development, revealing her generosity of spirit and the passionate commitment to her ideals that kept her moving from country to country and eventually drove her to give up her art. This is a biography divided by place -- Italy, Austria, Hollywood, Mexico City, Berlin, Moscow, Madrid -- and about a woman who longed to be rooted to a place, but who couldn't allow herself to settle down. Albers's understanding of this contradiction provides the narrative tension that makes this biography such riveting reading (and great film material).
Throughout Modotti's short life, she counted among her friends and co-workers Mexican artists Diego Rivera and Frida Kahlo, American writer John Dos Passos and Russian revolutionary and feminist Alexandra Kollontai, among many others. Modotti's photographs were often documentary in nature, what Carleton Beals called seeking the "perfect snapshot." Albers's rendition of Modotti's life goes a long way toward allowing us to understand this extraordinary woman.
It’s Andy Warhol’s Factory, New York, NY. It’s 2:00 p.m., May 4, 1970. A photo shoot is in progress. Click-whirl-click. “That’s it, baby. Sell it to me. That’s right, make me feel it.”
Andy has Ultraviolet sitting in the tractor chair with the Toio lamp providing the light. It’s not enough so Andy has her drape a Boalum lamp around her shoulders. The lamp is a glowing plastic coil, as if someone has stuck a strand of Xmas lights inside of a hairdryer hose.
Suddenly, there is shouting. “Where is he?! “Where is he?!” It’s Valerie Salonas, and she’s looking for Andy Warhol, and she’s mad.
“Look out! Look out, Andy,” someone screams. It’s too late, though. Valerie has gotten close to Andy, stuck her gun in his belly, and pulled the trigger. BLAM!, like that. Real loud, louder than on TV.
Everyone in the room rushes to Andy’s side. Solanas is wrestled, not gently, to the ground.
“Oh, Andy, poor Andy,” says Ultraviolet.
A charismatic stage and screen actress. A model whose beauty inspired some of the most arresting images of the twentieth century. A visionary photographer. A revolutionary with deep commitments to communism. A lover of powerful men. A woman whose life -- and death -- were controversial. Tina Modotti (1896 - 1942) was all of these. Her life as one of almost unimaginable glamor, scandal, and turmoil.
Contributing artists:
Gloria Attoun, Michael Bauermeister, Tim Black, Joan Bugnitz, Julie Bunitz,
Tom Bugnitz, Mieko Catron, Cynthia Pitsinger, Bill Christman, Elizabeth Concannon,
Susie Cooper, John Cournoyer, Andrew Cross, Joseph Farmer, John Goessmann, Benjamin Guffee, Susan Hacker Stang, Heather Haymart, Nola Heidbreder, Jan Hessel, Hilary Hitchcock, Terry Hoffman, Cary Horton, Christine Hotlz, Jim Hubbmann, Paul Hubbmann,
Tom Huck, Angela Hunter-Knight, J.S. Johnson, Richard Knight, Robert Knight, Patricia Kohn,Paul Krainak, Lawrence Krone, Katie Lacewell, Ronald Leax, Adam Long,
Heidi Lung, Richard Meyers, Mary Nasser,Bill & Julie Newberry, Pat Owoc, Joyce Pion,
Melisse Reichman, Tony Renner, Nancy Rice, Sue Rothschild, Paul Shank, Mary Beth Shaw, Kelly Sipes, Thomas Sleet, Timothy Smith, David Stine, Fern Taylor, Pamela Todorovich, Anne Treeger Huck, Fran Vinnacombe, Celeste Webster, Linda Wiggen Kraft, C.J. Woods, III
Chanteuse Blossom Dearie Dies At 82
By Elizabeth Blair
With her wispy, delicate voice, Blossom Dearie was a darling of the jazz world for decades. The cabaret singer and pianist died Saturday of natural causes in her home in New York City. She was 82.
She was a small woman with a small voice, but blogger Marc Myers says it was a distinctive style that made you want to listen.
"Blossom's voice always had this pixie-like sense of wonderment," Myers says. "Her voice was sort of helium high."
Myers says that when Dearie began singing in the '40s and '50s, some of the most acclaimed female jazz vocalists were hitting their stride.
"She sort of walked among giants. You had Peggy Lee, Sarah Vaughan, Carmen McRae, Ella Fitzgerald. But Blossom stood out by fusing cabaret and jazz together," Myers says. "She had this whimsy, but this very deep passion."
Dearie Makes A Hit With 'Hip'
When she was a little girl in upstate New York, Dearie studied classical piano, but quickly gravitated to jazz. She liked to have fun and was known for her wit. Over the years, she worked with two other funny jazz musicians: Bob Dorough and Dave Frishberg. She recorded one of the songs they wrote for themselves, called "I'm Hip."
"We both thought it would last a season after people got the joke," Dorough says. "Blossom made a little hit out of it."
Later on, when Dorough was hired to write the music for the kids' show Schoolhouse Rock, he asked Dearie to sing a couple of songs.
Describing Dearie's voice in The New Yorker, Whitney Balliett once wrote, "It speaks of porcelain and Limoges."
A No-Nonsense Performer
But this delicate artist was also very demanding. In the 1970s, she started her own record label, Daffodil, and she had a reputation for not tolerating people talking or smoking during her shows. Dearie would stop in the middle of a song and tell people to be quiet.
Dearie was a regular act at a club in Manhattan up until just a few years ago. She told Marian McPartland, host of NPR's Piano Jazz, that in later years, as she sang her collection of popular standards, her fans were always respectful.
"They're very aware of the music," Dearie said. "They know everything. I always say, 'I'm not afraid of forgetting the lyrics, because if I forget the lyrics, somebody in the audience knows the lyrics.' They cherish these songs. My audience is very with it."