Friday, February 26, 2016

The Bear from “The Revenant” Opens Up About Filming Conditions

The New Yorker
Friday, February 26, 2016

The Bear from “The Revenant” Opens Up About Filming Conditions


When Alejandro first approached me about appearing in “The Revenant,” I was overjoyed. I don’t have to tell you that the number of good parts for bears in Hollywood is inexcusably small—it’s almost as hard as being a female actor over forty. And what Alejandro was offering was gold: a guaranteed appearance in the trailer, closeups, even a few lines of dialogue. I’m no fool. I signed on the dotted line (by clawing at the paper and urinating all over it).
This was my first film with Alejandro, but I knew him socially. We got burritos together once. He is godfather to one of my children (three of whom have non-speaking cameos in the film). Though I realized that making a movie in which a man is horribly mauled by a bear might be an intense experience, I had no reason to doubt it would be meaningful. As filming drew near I was the envy of all my bear friends, who bit me affectionately and told me that I would bring home a treasure trove of anecdotes.
There has been a lot in the press about how nightmarishly gruelling the shooting was on “The Revenant.” In fact, it was as difficult as I’ve ever experienced. I’m no diva—I mean, I’m literally a bear, I defecate in the woods—but even I must go on the record to say that there were times during filming when I longed for death.
Alejandro turned out to be a harsh taskmaster, requesting take after painful take. “The light was wrong;” “Go again, we couldn’t see Leo’s face;” “Something about that didn’t smell right—let’s go again and watch out for smells.” On and on it went, a carousel of sub-zero tedium. It didn’t help that he insisted that we film only when Venus was aligned with Jupiter. This made for epic bouts of downtime. Now, I like backgammon as much as the next bear, but we were in temperatures that made the Antarctic look like a Turkish steam room. Sitting still meant icicles forming on our noses and, in the case of one crew member, frostbite of the head. Even I, a furry beast accustomed to the cold, asked a P.A. to get me earmuffs. I feared for the lives of my children, cubs who should not have had to suffer so profoundly for such pitiful IMDb kudos.
The inactivity was followed by shrieks of “FLY, MY BEAUTIES!” that prompted frantic bursts of action. I couldn’t feel my paws. For many of the takes I was openly weeping. Alejandro barely noticed, demanding that we do the take again, but this time with our eyes shut, or with Leo naked, or with Alejandro naked. He was the puppet master, and we danced for him on frozen strings.
I regret to tell you that I began to take out my frustrations on Leo, poor fellow, which is why the mauling scene is so excruciating to watch. What you are witnessing is a bear at the end of her tether, attacking a man plagued by the same frustrations and discomforts as she. Alejandro loved seeing me go “maximum grizzly,” of course, and egged me on. When he said that we could film only when the temperature was divisible by three, I remember picking him up and throwing him into a lake. It is only because we once shared those burritos that this did not cost me my job.
Until now I have refused to take part in the press junkets, for fear that I would break down. I ultimately felt, however, that I must write this opinion piece in the interest of spreading truth. If you are going to see this exploitative film (and I think you should—Leo really is superb), remember the untold torments behind the majesty on the screen. Recall the screams and the frozen paws. If you do not, my suffering—and the suffering of those who lost their lives in the white embrace of the Canadian mountains—will all have been for naught. And if you could mention my name and “Academy Award” together on as many social-media platforms as possible, that would also serve as a fitting tribute to the fearless and noble men and bears who didn’t make it.

circular... mas com inteligência

there is good conceptual art and bad shite that is neither art nor conceptual...

Free Stuff


Free Stuff

Pick the Oscars® Winners & Win an IPAD MINI2 Movie Prize Pack

Pick the Oscars® Winners & Win an IPAD MINI2 Movie Prize Pack

Click to enlarge
Pick the Oscars® Winners & Win an IPAD MINI2 Movie Prize Pack
Calling all movie buffs.....think you know who will be winner the 2016 Oscars® awards this year? Then Enter in the Pick the Oscars® Winners Contest! 
All you have to do is submit your picks for the 2016 Oscars® and you'll be in the running for this VIP prize pack. The person with the most answers correct in their predictions will win! In the event of a tie, a winner will be selected randomly from the pool of correct answers.

Prize Pack includes:
1 iPad mini2
4 pairs of VIP tickets to Landmark Theater
These special VIP passes are "no restrictions" passes with weekends included at participating theaters! For more info, click HERE 

Winner will be chosen at random & notified that they've won via phone. 

By registering to win this prize, you are agreeing to share your information with this client.

Register to Enter



American artist and tapestry weaver with a sensitivity for the private and the political. No unicorns, knights or fair ladies in these works. Think social media, selfies, pornhubs and other signs of the internet age.

Want more? leave us your email and receive a collection of Sex is Pure Classics

Günther Förg @ Arco

Galerie Lelong was holding court in a massive booth featuring works by artists including Etel Adnan, Günther Förg, Jaume Plensa, Sean Scully, Antoni Tàpies, Barthélémy Toguo, and Juan Uslé. A slew of works were sold by the end of the first day, including an iPad drawing by David Hockney (for €28,000), a sculpture by David Nash, an etching by Kiki Smith (for €4,000) and a small Jannis Kounellis wall sculpture, for €8,000.

Jean Frémon and Patrice Cotensin from Galerie Lelong Paris speak to artnet News at ARCO Madrid 2016, with a series of David Hockney's iPad drawings behind.<br>Photo: Niklas Thamm.
Jean Frémon and Patrice Cotensin of Galerie Lelong, Paris speak to artnet News at ARCO Madrid 2016; in the background, a series of David Hockney's iPad drawings.
Photo: Niklas Thamm.

Lelong is in fact a loyal regular at ARCO, having participated in each edition since the fair debuted 35 years ago, according to director Patrice Cotensin. “We love coming to ARCO. It has always made sense for us for many reasons, including that the gallery has a strong relationship with Spanish art, as throughout the years we have worked with many Spanish artists, like Joan Miró, Tàpies, Eduardo Chillida, Plensa, and Uslé," he told artnet News.

Culture Curating Internet Art, Online and IRL


Curating Internet Art, Online and IRL

Lindsay Howard and a drone.
Lindsay Howard and a drone. Photo: Courtesy of Ignacio Torres
The latest in The Expanded Field, a series of talks with art world personalities.
To fans of Rembrandt’s delicate touch, Schiele’s enervating line or Rothko’s immersive color, the Internet might not seem like the perfect tool for making art, but don’t tell Lindsay Howard that. The New York-based curator took her interest in digital media and ran with it, becoming one of the few experts in the burgeoning realm of Postinternet Art. She’s already curated digital art sales for a major auction house and helped turn young digital artists like Petra Cortright into art world stars. She even positioned movie star Shia LaBeouf as a new media artist that needs to be taken seriously—no small feat. We spoke to her (over the Internet, obviously) about the state of “net art,” how digital art can work in a real-life gallery and her current research on “ex-boyfriends and gambling.”
Internet Art is still so new to the art world that it feels a bit like the Wild West: Anyone can get in on it and many of the rules are still being written. Was this something that drew you to the medium?
I’m interested in net art specifically because of its accessibility. I like that it’s available to anyone with an internet connection and that it can be viewed in one’s daily space, in addition to a museum or a gallery. The intimacy of one’s screen creates a powerful context for art, and it’s moving to see artist interventions in what’s become a space colonized for commercial interests. Along with this, there are many individuals who are developing best practices for archiving, collecting, and presenting net art. It’s an ongoing, lively conversation and debate that’s happening at institutions like Rhizome, The Whitney, and MoMA, and on message boards, listservs, and chatrooms across the web.
Clearly humans love the Internet. Some people are on it practically every waking hour. But why does Internet Art need to be in an art museum?
When I started curating net art in a physical gallery in 2010, it was because I wanted to leverage the credibility of the white cube, more to document the works and then put them back online. A 1:1 translation of installing a screen in a gallery wasn’t going to work, so I had to break down the core of a concept and reimagine its form. At the time, Gene McHugh was writing his blog, Post-Internet, and Artie Vierkant was starting to make “Image Objects.” There was a lot of interest in the relationship between digital images and their physical counterparts (some of which were possibly fictional.) The gallery offered an opportunity to experiment with the viewer’s expectations of art, both online and offline.
LaBeouf, Rönkkö & Turner, #allmymovies.
LaBeouf, Rönkkö & Turner, #allmymovies. Photo: Courtesy of the artists
How do you define your role as curator? Especially in a realm that is easily accessible and without the social hierarchies of the traditional art world?
The curator’s role is primarily that of a translator, and we’re tasked with communicating the intentions of an artist to an audience. Traditionally, that meant writing academic texts for exhibition catalogues and wall labels, and such, but now it also means participating and speaking directly with audiences online. When I’m curating an artist, we work closely to develop and talk through all aspects of an exhibition, including everything from the initial concept to installation to social media strategy and partnerships.
Do you think that in terms of promotion, Digital Art actually has an advantage by being available online?
It’s important for curators, regardless of their speciality, to work fluidly between physical and online platforms. I start considering the online component of any exhibition, even if it’s in a physical gallery, from the earliest stages. I’ve learned through experience, as gallery director, curator, and viewer, that the majority of people will access the exhibition strictly through social media or other web-based mediums. Artists are certainly aware that that’s the case, which is why we’ve seen an increase in exhibition trailers, Instagram takeovers, and single-serving art websites installed at site-specific URLs. I don’t think that’s a digital art-specific strategy, but more a reflection of our times.
In 2013 at Phillips Auction House in New York, you jumped a major hurdle in legitimizing Digital Art by organizing the first ever digital art sale at an auction house (followed by the second sale at Phillips in London the following year.) What do you think an elite platform like an auction house has done (or could still do) for Digital Art?
The auctions at Phillips were important because they brought recognition to the field, while also expanding the public’s perception of it. I was mindful of the fact that most people would hear the term “digital art” and expect to walk into a room filled with TV monitors and computer terminals, but the definition of digital art is actually quite broad; it encompasses any work that uses the computer as a fundamental part of the creative process. I selected a diverse group of pieces that would set precedents for future sales, public or private, including an art website, a YouTube video, an animated GIF, a chandelier made out of CCTV cameras, custom software, an online performance, and hybrid works that bridged various forms.
Nightshades by Alexandra Gorczynski.
Nightshades by Alexandra Gorczynski. Photo: Courtesy of the artist
Tell me a little about NewHive and what you’ve done for them?
Following the auctions, I knew that I wanted to continue advocating for online artworks, which is why I joined the multimedia platform NewHive as their first in-house curator. In the past year, our community has grown rapidly and we’ve commissioned more than thirty new pieces by artists such as Jacob Ciocci, Leah Schrager, Jonas Lund, Tara Sinn, Miles Peyton, and Erica Magrey. We also saw enormous success with #ALLMYMOVIES, a piece by LaBeouf, Rönkkö & Turner in which Shia LaBeouf watched all of his movies consecutively in reverse chronological order over the course of three days, 24 hours a day. A livestream from the Angelika Film Center played exclusively on NewHive. Art is moving toward a point where materiality is less of a requirement, and we can continue to develop language around the conceptual, aesthetic, and technical nature of these kinds of web-based works.
What would you say to the cynic that says art can only be about reality: things like tactility, three-dimensional space and “the artist’s hand”? How can Internet Art speak to these purists?
The internet is as real as the artists who sit in front of their computers executing concepts on it. All of the information on the web is stored on physical servers, and relies on physical infrastructure to get from any one point to any other. It’s not magic; “the cloud” is just someone else’s computer. The tactility of the internet has become an important area of exploration for artists recently. Evan Roth received a Creative Capital grant to document fiber-optic internet cables using full spectrum video cameras, thermal flashlights and electronic voice phenomenon recorders, in an attempt to visualize and reconnect with the internet’s physical nature. Last year at Art Basel Miami Beach, Trevor Paglen lead a small group of individuals on a scuba-diving expedition to the site of underwater telecom cables that have been tapped by the NSA. There used to be a much sharper contrast between IRL and “going online,” but thanks to mobile technology, they’ve been rapidly bleeding together, and I believe the distinction will eventually dissolve completely.
Resonant Entity by MESHR.
Resonant Entity by MESHR. Photo: Courtesy of the artist
Do you have a dream curating gig in mind for the seemingly limitless online realm? A digital biennial or digital museum show?
I would caution against thinking of the online space as a replica of the traditional art world. The online audience is different, it’s much more vast and varied, and there’s more visual competition. Net art is a tab among other tabs, which invites both artistic subversion and intervention. As a curator, I have many goals. When net artists are able to support themselves and produce their work without financial limitation, receive thoughtful criticism and acknowledgement, have their work recognized by academic journals, studied by students, and acquired by respected cultural institutions and collectors, then I will feel I’ve really accomplished something.
Can you tell us a little about what you’re working on now?
My next research project will be called Temporary Highs. It’s an investigation into the ways in which the internet enables a constant pursuit of highs and lows and will study everything from social media use to online shopping habits. I started with a long list of temporary highs—drugs, auction prices, orgasms, ex-boyfriends, likes, faves, retweets, sugar, alcohol, money, credit cards, workaholism, massages, manicures, gambling, sports, and beauty—and have been delving into each one more deeply. I’m looking at the scientific research around what happens to the brain when it’s experiencing highs, and how the structure of the internet encourages reward seeking behavior in a nonstop cycle of compulsive sharing and consumption. I’m writing about temporary highs from a personal perspective, speaking with experts in the fields of neuroscience, psychology, and sociology, and closely observing how artists are creating and adapting work for these conditions. This is a long-term, ongoing research project, however I anticipate at least certain aspects of it will be realized as a group exhibition within the next year.