A Cultural Kaleidoscope

My Top Favorite Albums of 2008 (in somewhat particular order...)

2008-12-24T12:04:00.000-08:00

-1- My Morning Jacket - "Evil Urges"

-2- MGMT - "Oracular Spectacular"

-3- Cloud Cult - "Feel Good Ghosts, Teapartying Through Tornadoes"

-4- Fleet Foxes - (self-titled)

-5- Beck - "Modern Guilt"

-6- Black Keys - "Attack and Release"

-7- Hot Chip - "Made In The Dark"

-8- Bon Iver - "For Emma, Forever Ago"

-9- Santogold - (self-titled)

-10- The Wood Brothers - "Loaded"

-11- R.E.M. - "Accelerate"

-12- Girl Talk - "Feed the Animals"

-13- Stephen Malkmus and the Jicks - "Real Emotional Trash"

-14- Vampire Weekend - (self-titled)

-15- The Whigs - "Mission Control"

Made in the Dark

2008-03-07T04:44:00.000-08:00

HOT CHIP – Made in the Dark

3.5 Stars

Sounds Like: LCD Soundsystem, The Rapture

From the opening drone of the keys which slowly gains momentum to the final soft, soulful ballad, Made in the Dark leads listeners on a journey through a sonic labyrinth. The third LP from Hot Chip consists of simple melodies and repetitive synthesizer riffs that seem to have a clear path and an end in sight. But, like a basketball player who executes a crossover dribble, Hot Chip employs sudden breaks and swings the play in an unexpected direction.

The British quintet samples Todd Rundgren’s “Intro” from Something/Anything? in the middle of massive bass lines and heavy layers of percussion on the track “Shake a Fist,” which strangely makes sense in the larger context of the album: to expect the unexpected. The spoken word directs the audience to try to pick out the studio and production sounds that do not belong on the album. In line with the enigmatic mentality of the members of Hot Chip, wrong is right and imperfections somehow make things perfect.

If this already seems like a patchwork of sounds and ideas, add in the fact that Hot Chip blends soul with R & B, dance, pop, techno, electronic, reggae and rock. It’s difficult to place a genre label on this quirky group. And it seems like they aim for ambiguity. “Don’t Dance” is one of the most energy-charged, danceable tracks on the album, yet lead vocalist Alexis Taylor (who recalls Nick Drake) repetitively croons the hook “Don’t dance/ Don’t dance” in his high falsetto.

Synth-heavy electro-pop numbers filled with hand-claps, drum machines, and various percussive instruments including bongos, shakers, and wood blocks dominate the album. Songs like “Bendable, Posable” reference hip-hop, while “Touch Too Much” reveals Afrobeat influences and carries a barrage of drum patterns, blaring synthesizers, and vocal looping. Al Doyle’s disco guitar style is most apparent on “Hold On” and calls to mind James Murphy and LCD Soundsystem. Other tracks find the group harmonizing with organ chords like a church choir. And with an entire song dedicated to wrestling terminology and name-checking a folk icon, (“here we come, drop-kick/ half-nelson, full-nelson/ Willie Nelson, Willie Nelson”), the album is anything but boring.

Taylor and Joe Goddard (who share songwriting duties and sometimes lead vocals) prove that penning ballads and meaningful lyrics are just as much their forte as crafting dance tracks with catchy beats. 2006’s The Warning was an exploration into other sounds beyond Hot Chip’s usual DJing, but Made in the Dark evolves a step farther, as the band is able to segue easily between musical moods and styles to create a cohesive textural collage.

Beat The Drum

2008-03-05T11:06:00.000-08:00

I wander past wind chimes, stacks of psychic literature, and wooden statuary from the Far East as soothing New Age music emanates throughout Seven Rays Bookstore. Passing through beaded curtains and woven hemp tapestries, I enter a small room behind the store, and a tall, graceful African man greets me. His dark skin contrasts with his white teeth and multi-colored Kente print dashiki and matching Kufi hat.

The man introduces himself as our teacher, Este Nyadedzor (but prefers to be called David). He welcomes me and several others to his class with a grateful tone and a large full-tooth smile. He speaks slowly in English (with a thick West African accent), choosing his words with great care. He grins and laughs deeply throughout his entire presentation on his native culture of Ghana.

Upon David’s encouragement, those who did not bring their own drums (only me, of course) should borrow one from the pool of extras at the center of the room. I select a medium size djembe – a wooden drum shaped like a large goblet with tribal carvings along the base and an animal hide playing surface attached to the top by strands of rope.

I take a seat in an uncomfortable metal folding chair next to a white guy with dreads and tribal tattoos on his forearms, says he is also an SU student. We bring our chairs into the circle to join the other five people in the group – an elderly couple who frequent the class, a middle-aged man visiting from Vermont, a young female Yoga instructor who is also a Seven Rays employee, and David.

I notice that everyone in the room is barefoot except for me. After a fleeting moment of embarrassment, I remove my shoes too.

The teacher instructs us to place the drums between our inner thighs (near the knees) and tilt them forward toward him. This is the proper ready position. I tilt my djembe a little too far forward, and it topples to the floor. “This is not the ready position,” David says as he chuckles.

By 6:30, my dignity is still somewhat intact, and we began with the basic methods of striking the drum. First, with our fingers relaxed and spread apart, we learned to hit the outer edge of the drum (just above the rim) with the palm to make a high, sharp sound called the slap. Then David taught us how to play the lower bass note by hitting the center of the drum with our palms while holding our fingers firmly together. These notes were somewhat familiar to me from participating in parking-lot drum circles at String Cheese concerts. I also previously tried to play the introductory percussion rhythm of Ben Harper’s famed song, “Burn One Down” at a friend’s house (both attempts failed).

We practice counting and learn several different patterns that involve mixing the two techniques. The two elderly folks with their loose fitting khaki-colored garb and unkempt gray hair perfectly execute each song and are clearly veterans of the Seven Rays drum circle. They seem to be irritated with me and the other SU newcomer (but mostly me – at least the other guy brought his own drum and looks the part of a drum circle participant). David stops several times to help us regain the rhythm and catch up with the rest of the circle.

We repeat after our teacher, saying, “Anke dje, anke be.” This means “Everyone gather together.” The group chants this in English and in the native Asante language.

The patterns become more advanced, perhaps to suit the needs of the impatient old timers of the group. I struggle to keep up. I stop often to watch David’s hands and count with the group until I find the beat again. He explains that it takes weeks of practice to keep up with this fast pace, which makes me feel better about my poor performance.

My hands start to get sore, and I am exhausted from counting beats and singing. I’m also tired of the old lady drum vet glaring at me and telling me not to think about what I’m doing “but just to feel the energy through the drum.”

As much as I love the sounds of percussion instruments (especially the African djembe) and appreciate David’s kindness and patience, 8 o’clock could not come fast enough. I thanked him for the lesson and paid my $10, put my shoes back on, and walked to Alto Cinco for a beer. The laid-back environment I had been expecting at the drum circle was instead waiting for me with the Westcott hippies next door.

Sunrise in Millenium Park

2008-03-04T11:47:00.000-08:00

Playing in Anish Kapoor's Cloud Gate in Chicago's Millenium Park
- 110 ton elliptical structure inspired by liquid mercury

The Pavilion designed by Frank Gehry
- outdoor concert venue that can hold 12,000 people in the heart of downtown Chicago

"How do you make everyone - not just the people in the seats, but the people sitting 400 feet away on the lawn - feel good about coming to this place to listen to music? And the answer is, you bring them into it. You make the proscenium larger; you build a trellis with a distributed sound system. You make people feel part of the experience."

-Frank Gehry

"Georgia Ice Cream"

2008-03-04T05:12:00.000-08:00

I remember standing on top of daddy’s feet with his worn leather moccasins beneath my toes as we danced around the kitchen in our pajamas to the soulful sounds of Al Green on an easy Sunday morning. We twirled around cartons of eggs, bowls of fruit, and piles of toast while preparing our traditional weekly breakfast. A medium-sized stainless steel saucepot filled with white, stone-ground grits was always present on the front burner and in close range of our dance steps, as it required frequent stirring.

Anybody can scramble eggs or cut up pieces of cantaloupe, but it takes a dedicated soul to cook grits – and daddy is one of those people. He makes the best grits I’ve ever tasted. Now, I’m not talking about that thin, watery, white soup they serve you at Denny’s. I’m not talking about Quaker Instant Grits either (a sin in all southern kitchens). I’m talking about grits with real texture and a thick consistency like oatmeal, grits with large pats of butter and salt and pepper to taste.

These finely ground pieces of corn are an important part of Southern culture and tradition. Corn is easy to grow in the south and serves as a hearty and filling meal in any form. To make grits, you boil the ground kernels in water or milk (or both depending on your preference) until enough of the liquid evaporates to leave the substance semi-solid like porridge. It’s important to stir the grits constantly. Careless grit-makers will leave the stove unattended, forgetting to keep the grits moving. This neglect allows too much water to dissolve leaving rock-like deposits in the pot or burning the grits if left long enough. Grits stuck to the side of a pot will ruin your day, as grit residue is one of the toughest things to scrape out of cookware.

There are other types of grit-makers (those who are in a hurry or just plain lazy), who don’t measure the proper amount of water (3.5 cups of water for every cup of grits) or who take the pot off of the burner before the liquid has evaporated. These faux-pas result in the worst types of grits – runny and watery – like soup broth with grains of rice floating in it or oatmeal in cold water that will not dissolve. Your grits should not be drinkable.

They should be sticky and creamy, but a little grainy. They should be thick and hearty like goulash, but also smooth and soft. Grits should assail your nose with whiffs of butter and pepper, as warm steam fills the air. They go with anything and can be dressed up or down. Grits can be a simple breakfast food with sugar or bacon crumbled on top or a casserole baked with cheeses and peppers. They serve as a home base for pieces of shrimp and salmon, and bed of them can be found beneath nearly every meal containing fish or meat in the Low Country.

Grits have been a mainstay in Southerners’ kitchens for centuries. They are a staple of the southern diet and a symbol of southern hospitality. Everyone in the south wants to know how to cook grits the right way or live with someone else who knows how. In a classic Beach Music song, Rick Strickland even decided that his woman has “gotta hit the road because she can’t fix grits.” And Al Green, also a southern boy from Arkansas, dated a woman who knew how to cook pots of thick, sticky grits (one of which she famously threw at him when she thought Al was cheating on her).

But, daddy makes the best grits I’ve ever tasted – made with love, care, soul, and southern charm. The grits I am eating right now are comfort food to me as I spin around my kitchen singing into a wooden spoon, 820 miles away from my home in South Carolina. I lick the spoon and smile to myself knowing that I will not be kicked to the curb over my grit-making abilities. Daddy has taught me well.

Salt City Run

2008-03-03T18:29:00.001-08:00

My gray New Balance 992s hit the pavement, bluish-green water laps against the shore, and seagulls squawk in the distance. An odor emanates from the lake. It reeks of garbage, but the clear October blue sky and families picnicking together on the freshly cut grass that surrounds me makes up for this. I follow the asphalt trail as it winds through maple trees and park benches, past a marina and a group of children playing catch. As I pass my final mile marker, I break into a sprint for the final half-mile of my journey. My right foot thuds on top of the white spray painted line indicating that I have traveled 2.5 miles around Onondaga Lake. I stop, place my hands on my hips, and bend over gasping for air. When I catch my breath, I walk over to a small boulder at the edge of the lake. I step up onto it and look in the direction that I have just come from. Across the lake, I see the entire skyline of Syracuse. While looking at this panorama at dusk, I realize that the most beautiful thing about the city is the way that it looks from afar.

Spontaneous Collaboration

2008-03-03T18:28:00.001-08:00

Paint splatters on the canvas as people of all ages from the Syracuse community join in Michael Berman’s live interactive painting. As part of the exhibition at the Delavan Gallery entitled “Real Places, Imagined Spaces,” Berman adds an extra creative element and invites the public to paint alongside him and his exhibited work.

This collaborative segment became part of his show to bring people together to create a unique work of art. After 23 years of exhibiting, this tie-dye wearing, former hippie still has what it takes to show that space can warp into other places via the imagination.

In the warehouse next to the main gallery, an 8.5 x 20 foot vinyl canvas stretches across the wall. Participants bring their own materials or use the endless mop buckets and mason jars filled with paints, brushes, pastels, spray paint, and markers. After four weeks, the once blank canvas has evolved into a collage of mixed media with found objects, graffiti, a portrait of Van Gogh, ink drawings, signatures, and expressionist paint splatterings reminiscent of Pollock.

Berman’s own smaller canvas next to this one has morphed as well, into a pulsating geometric field of brightly contrasting colors. His large abstract paintings are composed of oil and acrylic on a variety of materials, including burlap, corrugated cardboard, vinyl, and cork. These mediums add texture to the works, as the bold, vibrant turquoises, magentas, and purples come to life. The shapes play off of each other creating a feeling of movement, similar in composition to Matisse’s paper cut-outs. Through the use of shadowing, unique perspective, and tromp l’oeil, the forms seem to dance and fall through the canvas.

These spontaneous works of art explore the beauty and mystery of space seen and imagined. Creativity is an ever-changing process and neither an artist nor his work is ever truly finished.

Syracuse Got Sole...So Much Sole

2008-03-02T11:11:00.000-08:00

As I enter Discount Shoe Repair on East Washington Street, the smells of shoe polish and treated leather assail my nostrils. A middle-aged man with olive skin and graying hair shuffles around the small wood-paneled shop. He sees me, sets down the chocolate brown ankle boot he is polishing, and adjusts the gold chain around his neck (possibly bearing a medallion of St. Crispin, the patron saint of cobblers). Then, moving toward me, he holds out both of his arms in a welcoming gesture and greets me in a thick Italian accent. “Ciao, Bella.”

Raphael (or the anglicized “Ralph,” as he tells me he’s called) is from Calabria, Italy. His entire family emigrated to the United States in early 1970 because his grandparents lived in Syracuse where there was a large Italian community. “They loved it here and wanted the rest of the family to join them where there was a better economy and more freedom,” Ralph says.

While watching the local cobblers at work near his home in southern Italy, Ralph was impressed by their hard work, craftsmanship, and attention to detail. “I knew this was going to be my trade,” he says with a half smile as he fingers the stubble on his chin.

As an apprentice in his uncle’s shoe shop, he learned the craft and then opened his own business in 1975 at its current location in downtown Syracuse. Loafers, boots, sandals, handbags, and belts cover nearly every surface of the tiny shop (except for those walls which are plastered with laminated scenic photographs of Italy and tattered posters of Italian soccer teams and the Syracuse Crunch).

He lets me watch him work while he explains the art of repairing a shoe. His hands are rough and calloused with black polish smeared on them, but they move delicately across the shoe as he effortlessly stitches and tacs on a new sole. He places the shoe on a last, an iron mold used to maintain the form. “Each shoe is a challenge and a different puzzle,” says Ralph.

“Here is another shoe where I added a higher heel and sole for a woman who has 2 legs of a different length,” he explains as he holds up a white platform shoe. “I can fix anything and make anything. No one in this town can do what I do. I am the best at my job.”

The cobbler takes great pride in what he does. Ralph is pleased to know that he has mastered a trade and can carry on an old-world Italian tradition. The shoe repair business is like a science to him. As I watch him, he calls to mind a dentist filling a cavity or crafting a denture for the perfect fit.

“What I do is a lost art. They don’t even make these machines I use anymore. Modern ones are for large shoe companies where they manufacture many shoes – and they cost about $100,000 each now,” Ralph shouts over the rumble of a large antique shoe-buffing machine.

Ralph conveys to me that there is nothing like working for yourself and having your own business. He has worked hard over the past 32 years and is proud of his success. He attributes this to the traditions fostered by the surrounding Italian community in Syracuse and his dedicated clients who appreciate his craft. “I have many regular customers who have come here for years and then their kids grow up and start coming to me too,” Ralph says, smirking.

I reach into the shopping bag I have been holding and hand him my favorite pair of worn black high heels with a crocodile pattern. I need them repaired for the third time.

“Who did this?” Ralph exclaims while laughing. “Where was this terrible work done? Please let Ralph take care of you from now on.”

Romare Bearden's Odyssey

2008-02-29T13:57:00.001-08:00

Unlike other renditions of Homer’s epic The Odyssey, Harlem Renaissance artist Romare Bearden’s version depicts the hero of the story as a black man. The works are reminiscent of Matisse’s jazz-influenced, abstract cut-outs and his drawings of The Odyssey, but are clearer and more exacting in context. Sixteen of the twenty images composing Bearden’s series, “A Black Odyssey” are on display together for the first time in over thirty years at the DC Moore Gallery in New York City.

Bright, whimsical pieces of cerulean and scarlet paper swirl and dance across the frames, bursting with color and re-casting a tale of sirens, lotus eaters, and one man’s journey home. The technique is meticulous. The process is delicate. Bearden executed the cut-paper collages with such precision that one wonders why he chose not to develop the figures’ characters in full detail, often portraying them as silhouettes.

The collages are flat and two-dimensional, but are highly textural – consisting of layered sheets of paper that create effects of shadowing, movement, and volume. “Battle with Cicones” reveals Bearden’s impeccable attention to detail. The figures and landscape surrounding this violent encounter convey a fluidity of curves and softness of shapes that make the piecing together of endless scraps of paper appear effortless.

However, Bearden does not develop many of his characters. Shadows appear rather than human faces. This can be seen as Bearden’s argument that Odysseus is representative of any man, any struggle, and any journey. A Black Odyssey is also a metaphor for Bearden’s own life as a struggling artist after he moved to Harlem from the south.

The series suggests the timeless idea of the human experience through suffering, exploration, and overcoming obstacles. The internal and external plights of the black man allow the vibrant colors to fade into the background. Black forms add stark contrast and richness to the colorful series, grounding the other images as the idea of any man resonates.

Bigger is Always Better - And Faster

2008-02-28T08:11:00.000-08:00

“Ramble On” blares from the stereo as four sandwich artists, high on life (and possibly something else), belt out the lyrics to the Zeppelin tune and play air guitar in the kitchen. The employees at Jimmy John’s Gourmet Sandwiches – the latest restaurant chain to open on Marshall Street – claim to make the “World’s Greatest Gourmet Sandwiches” fast. And they do.

The staff goofs off and clearly enjoys jamming out while making subs. Irreverent quotes and clever sayings such as “We don’t care where your mouth has been. All we want to know is where your mouth is now,” are plastered on the walls around them. The good times don’t slow the place down as the sandwiches zip down the assembly line with generous helpings of meat, cheese, and veggies. Orders are wrapped up and ready to go almost before you have finished paying.

Smells of freshly baked bread fill the air as French baguettes and hearty 7-grain loaves are pulled from the oven. Jimmy John’s employees slice all of the ingredients in-house daily for the twenty-four signature deli sandwiches that comprise the straightforward menu. You have the option to make it an eight-inch sub, a giant club sandwich, or an “unwich” (lettuce wrap with no bread) and choose which meat (turkey, roast beef, tuna, ham, capicola, or salami) you want.

Clubs are often the most popular item on the menu. According to the staff, the average sandwich measures 2.5 inches tall and rings in at $5.45, a modest price since the meal is so filling that it serves as your lunch and dinner for the day. It’s difficult to get your mouth around one of these beasts, and only those with an appetite for destruction can finish it in a single sitting.

The Beach Club (#12) is one of the healthiest offerings in the giant-club department. It’s served on huge, fluffy slabs of 7-grain bread slathered with homemade avocado spread with giant helpings of turkey and provolone and fresh lettuce, tomato, cucumbers, and sprouts piled on high.

If you want a humongous, delicious sandwich made quick-to-order while you listen to classic rock and some off-color jokes, Jimmy John’s should be your next stop for lunch on The Hill.

Acoustic Shards

2008-02-28T08:09:00.000-08:00

Buckethead
Acoustic Shards

3 stars ***

Sounds Like: Andy McKee, Nick Drake

Buckethead reaches to the vault from the early ‘90s for solo acoustic recordings of heavy chord progressions. Songs like “Thugs” sound experimental and unfinished while “Serape” twists into a saucy Latin tune. The album is reminiscent of a local coffee shop, with its soothing and somber tone. This softer side of Buckethead is a far cry from his usual ripping electric guitar technique with metal undertones.

Nylon's Identity Crisis

2008-02-28T08:08:00.000-08:00

Not for girls. This bold tagline and the bright pink title instantly made me reach for a copy of Nylon Guys magazine on the newsstand. And I wondered, “Is that the point?”

After reading it cover to cover, I’m still not sure that this magazine is only for guys. And I’m also not sure that Nylon Guys knows whom it is for either.

The Fall 2007 issue of the quarterly magazine from Nylon Holding, Inc, the publishers of Nylon Magazine, features Jason Schwartzman on the cover – a solid, non-mainstream cover choice for a magazine that aims to “Celebrate independence and a pipeline to popular culture.” However, Schwartzman is holding a placard that says, “Nylon?,” which is exactly what I think to myself as I wonder who the target audience is and what the goal here actually is.

The cover story is appropriately titled, “Is Jason Schwartzman The Coolest Guy In Hollywood?” It feels like the magazine itself is trying so hard to be cool and define itself with its jargon and tone that it lacks depth and loses sight of being a credible hipster magazine for men.

This idea resonates in Marvin Scott Jarrett’s Letter from the Editor, as he writes mostly about his crush on Schwartzman and his career, mentions another upcoming movie he wants to see, and then ends with, “As usual, Nylon Guys is cool as shit.” I beg to differ. It’s as if he is trying too hard to please and the letter comes off as overkill.

The cover also boasts “144 pages of really awesome stuff!” These “awesome” pages are boring, repetitive, and lacking in design. Each page in this section has photographs of nine or more watches or pairs of pants lined up in neat rows against a white background. Too much cookie cutter design of this kind is not a good thing and the reader quickly loses focus when this drones on for too many pages. This magazine reads more like a catalogue for sneakers, hoodies, blazers, gadgets, and the like.

Nylon Guys is a prime example of nuggetization at work. Everything is broken down into small chunks that are easy for readers to digest. Including the cover story, there are only two other feature stories and about ten short half-page articles on music and movies. One of the features is about Blake Lively, the star of the new teen drama, Gossip Girl, and another spotlights a former ballerina – not for girls, huh?

The magazine also has a lot of full-page ads – 55 of them to be exact. With 55 pages of ads, 144 pages of “cool stuff” (i.e. ads), about 20 more pages that look like ads, and a few articles and text sprinkled in between, it’s hard to distinguish what this magazine is trying to achieve. The plethora of ads causes the reader to unknowingly skip over what little content there is. The magazine tries to promote so many different products that it loses sight of trying to define and promote itself. Now in its second year, Nylon Guys should celebrate its birthday with a makeover.

Paradise Not Lost...

2008-02-27T12:46:00.001-08:00

Intricately rendered gilt bronze relief panels depicting scenes from the Old Testament were once a backdrop for famous artists and thinkers of the 15^th century like Michelangelo, Donatello, and Machiavelli as they walked the streets of Florence. Now, for the first time, three of these panels are in the United States and are currently at the Metropolitan Museum of Art (through January 13, 2008). After a nearly seamless exhibition in Atlanta and a substandard one in Chicago, the pressure is on New York to exhibit the works successfully in true Italian style.

Italian Renaissance artist Lorenzo Ghiberti completed the East Doors of the Baptistery of Florence, also known as the “Gates of Paradise,” between 1425 and 1452. To mirror this, the Met chose to display the works in a small room inspired by Renaissance architecture with marble floors, high ceilings, and cream colored walls treated to look like marble. A second story loggia with rustic wooden beams overhead and hand-painted ceramic tiles set in a design that calls to mind a coiffered ceiling perches above the gallery on the left. And six wooden window portals surrounded by marble carvings and grotesques of vases, flowers, and leaves decorate the right wall. The Renaissance architecture inspires viewers and sets the doors and panels within a cultural context and time period.

At the High Museum of Art in Atlanta, a special octagonal green room was created to house the pieces, echoing the accent color of the marble and structure of the Baptistery in Florence. The exhibit at the Art Institute of Chicago employed bear walls and did not make use of Italian design elements, nor did it receive the acclaim that the show did in Atlanta.

You may never have a chance to travel to Italy and see the original “Gates of Paradise,” but the exhibition in New York provides viewers with an intimate encounter with Ghiberti’s panels in true Italian Renaissance style.

Celebrating Hip Hops

2008-02-27T12:33:00.000-08:00

R.I.P. Michael Jackson. No, not that Michael Jackson. The infamous King of Pop is alive and well. Instead, the lesser known of the two Jackos and king of hops, Michael Jackson (a.k.a. The Beer Hunter) has passed away.

For the past 23 years, Jackson has been a contributing writer for All About Beer, a magazine dedicated to "Celebrating the World of Beer Culture" that claims to be "the definitive source for beer information."

The magazine has been circulating for over a quarter of a century and has a well-defined niche market. Under the direction of husband and wife team Daniel Bradford (publisher) and Julie Bradford (editor), it has gained successful readership through beer importers, liquor stores, breweries, home brewers, beer enthusiasts, and "just drinkers."

The large font in the nameplate reading "Beer" and its golden pilsner coloring lured me to the cover of the November 2007 issue immediately. At first glance, I thought this magazine would have no worthwhile material. I mean, what else could there possibly be to know about beer that matters besides that it is delicious? Apparently, a lot.

With tantalizing and informative articles such as "Beer in the New South," the main cover story of the November issue (along with Jackson's passing), and the helpful "Buyer's Guide for Beer Lovers," the magazine effectively provides entertaining news in a clever writing style without losing its focus or straying away from the subject of beer.

It also includes beer reviews, buzzworthy news in the beer industry, travel information, and book reviews as well as three regular columns with each issue (one of which was called “Jackson's Journal”). Witty tidbits about keg theft or a beer released to celebrate the premiere of a play about Margaret Thatcher called "Maggie's End" (appropriately a bitter ale) adds humor and punch to the magazine.

"Pull Up A Stool!" is a section in which the writer profiles an interesting person in the industry and has a drink with him. The notes from the publisher and editor also include photographs of them raising pints of beer. Readers are left to wonder, "Do these people ever stop drinking?"

At $4.99 a pop, an issue nearly costs the same as a cold draft micro-brew. A one-year subscription includes six issues and comes with a free "The American Brew" DVD.

The layout and design are lacking (even though recently updated) and look homemade, but this is expected of a small, independently owned magazine out of Durham, NC. Design and production are outsourced to another company.

It will be interesting to see if the magazine loses readership after the passing of Jackson, as some consider him the ultimate word on beer. The staff at All About Beer says Jackson taught them everything they know, so perhaps they will be able to carry the longneck and continue his legacy by still providing the latest information on beer culture.

The Beer Hunter often wore only one glove as a nod to the celebrity he shares a name with. To quote the other MJ: "Don't stop 'til you get enough" … beer, that is.

I'm Walking a Line...Visiting Buildings in Motion

2008-02-27T12:31:00.000-08:00

A large gray-white structure mirroring a towering wedding cake with off-kilter layers or a teetering game of Jenga emerges out of a skyline where seedy restaurant supply stores meet posh condos and upscale shops. Amidst the ongoing renovations of the Bowery, the New Museum of Contemporary Art in NYC opened the doors of its new location (on the former site of a parking lot) to the public on its 30^th anniversary on December 1st.

Japanese architects Kazuyo Sejima and Ryue Nishizawa designed the museum with a contemporary-looking exterior unlike other buildings in the city. The structure consists of corrugated aluminum paneling with larger scales of aluminum mesh layered over the seven stories, which are stacked on top of one another as if they may topple at any moment. From the outside, this honeycomb effect highlights the design and gives it a light and airy look like a piece of breathable fabric; but from the inside looking out, some areas are reminiscent of a chain link fence or the inhibiting view an inmate may have of the outside world.

Upon entering the front door of the museum through the glass façade of the street level entrance, guests are enveloped by a vast open space with stark white walls, concrete floors, and a glass enclosed gallery space. The crisp, simple design focuses more on the quality and quantity of lighting rather than the square footage of the space. As the structure of the building shifts in various directions with each level, it lends itself to several diverse and column-less exhibition spaces – each with different ceiling heights, floor space, and positioning of skylights. This floor plan eases the flow of traffic and provides ample display space for freestanding exhibitions and mounted works in varying natural light.

The structure of the New Museum coveys motion and further stresses the idea of the contemporary art it houses – always moving into the future and ever-changing.

A Cultural Kaleidoscope

2008-02-27T12:25:00.001-08:00

Bright contrasting colors, kaleidoscopic effects, morphing shapes, repetitive patterns, intense pulsating lights, and the powerful energy of music. This may sound like a trip down memory lane for those who grew up in the 1960s (and perhaps it is), but these themes and the psychedelic influences on art and music still play a large role in the artistic world today.

With its basis on the ideas of peace, community, honesty, simplicity, creativity, and spirituality, the counterculture that emerged from the ‘60s has made a re-emergence in the present day and never truly left.

The social change of the ‘60s and early ‘70s is when a new psychedelic aesthetic emerged in art, music, graphic design, and fashion. People turned to art and the psychedelic drug culture that often went along with it not only as an outlet from the Vietnam War and the civil unrest in America, but also as a way to express themselves and explore new things.

This same desire for an escape from the harsh realities of the War in Iraq, the political state of our country, crime and countless acts of hatred, and the diminishing of the world’s natural resources can be seen in the youth culture in the new millennium as well. Though, we live in a different time period in a world that has made significant social, political, economic, and technical advances, the root of this now lesser known (but still existent) sub-culture remains in the fact that many young people seek to make the world a better place and find solace in the arts.

On my journey to become an arts journalist, I have traveled throughout the United States and Europe in order to view art and listen to music. I love the thrill of travel and the open road as well as art and music and the way they inspire me. I will trek anywhere to see and hear artists that I am interested in. My love of travel, culture, other languages, music, and art as well as my love for writing inspired me to become a journalist who writes about these topics. I believe that the arts and culture are interconnected and an integral part of the world we live in that needs to be championed and become more accessible to the public.