My father refuses to watch the 1972 film Deliverance - he's seen it once and for him, that was more than enough. It's the story of four businessmen whose canoeing trip down the Cahulawassee River quickly turns into a nightmare. Assaulted by some frightening locals and pitted against the hazards of the river, they find themselves in a rather nasty fight for their lives.
Now, while Jeremy Barnes and Heather Trost haven't exactly spent the last couple of years hanging out in Eastern Europe with inbred, psychotic hillbillies, they have embarked on a daunting musical journey that not many would stomach. Their goal of learning the nuances of a tricky musical language, in a region off the map for mainstream America could easily have led them down a blind alley. So... would they, as the movie's tag line suggests, have been better off staying at home and playing golf?
Well, the short answer is no, because A Hawk and A Hacksaw have made their best, most confident record to date. It's a thrilling, mostly instrumental ride influenced by the Romanian diva Romica Puceanu, the Balkan brass of collaborators Fanfare Ciocărlia, and the breathless music of dark, smoky Budapest dance houses. There are plaintive violin-led pieces, which wouldn't be out of place accompanying a café scene in a Béla Tarr film, and scratchy field recordings - the first half of 'Raggle Taggle' sounds like a beautiful Romanian radio broadcast from 70 years ago. The sheer depth of this record means that Délivrance avoids one of the pitfalls of some Balkan albums, such as those from Ciocărlia - namely that the buoyant music becomes slightly repetitive.
Alongside the British bouzouki player Chris Hladowski, AHAAH have enlisted some key performers from Budapest's folk music circuit. A standout contribution comes from cimbalom virtuoso Kálman Bálogh, whose performance on 'Kertész' is blistering - the notes zip by at an astonishing speed. Other collaborators include Béla Ágoston, of quirky Hungarian hip-hop band Zuboly, and their close friend, trumpeter and violinist Ferenc Kovács.
I once saw Kovács play with Barnes and Trost on a makeshift stage, to twenty people, in the small Hungarian village of Szentendre. It was a scene that summed AHAAH's fearless, unique journey up perfectly. Although both violinists were undeniably virtuosic, the contrast in their style was marked, and picked up on by a handful of bemused audience members. Kovács' performance was freewheeling, that of a man who had grown up steeped in these musical traditions, while Trost handled the fiendishly difficult music with a look of fierce concentration.
Délivrance is no Gogol Bordello Balkan pastiche, nor does it deserve to get lumped into the category of 'world music'. Rather, it's a remarkable fusion, the sound of a band living and breathing a musical culture far removed from their own. According to them, their music is borderless, and the making of it is similar to 'climbing a mountain'. If this excellent album is anything to go by, I sincerely hope that A Hawk and a Hacksaw are halfway up the cliff face, some way off reaching their musical peak.
Andy T, former writer for thehub is currently working for UK-based music website thelineofbestfit. Read more here.
O Júlia , Júlia ! wherefore art thou Júlia ?
A play with two Juliets, one Hungarian and one English: you might well ask 'wherefore'. The wherefore, according to the blurb, at least, is to conjure up "Shakespeare's most beautiful ghost", and for a mixed nationality audience at that. I won't say I was skeptical but I wondered how it would work. With no one but Juliet doubled up, would it not be something like a one-sided telephone call with simultaneous interpretation?
A minimal set and costumes reflected a now familiar approach to Shakespeare, and as the audience entered, Juliet was already romping with herself in the middle of a featureless stage. I was quickly reassured that the Juliets would not be an exact duplicate of each other: some lines and movements were mirrored, others weren't. When one Juliet spoke, the other became a silent Romeo; a setting; a thought at the back of Juliet's mind.
While I'm sure there was a definite direction to the script, seeing Romeo & Juliet performed a few years ago was not sufficient for me to follow the story as such. Shakespeare-lovers or anyone who's actually read the thing recently would therefore have a much different experience. Add to that, the fact that some of the audience would understand the Hungarian, some the English, and others both or neither, and we suddenly have eight different plays on show. (Anyone who is unfamiliar with Romeo & Juliet and understands neither language might be in for a rough ride.)
In the absence of a straightforward narrative, it was the performances that took on the great burden of keeping me interested, and both Juliets were exceptional. That they were not alike was crucial: one, physical, sexual and occasionally animalistic (she growled at me as soon as I sat down) and the other slight and delicate. If you only understood the language of one, the other took on a mysterious presence but at the fore nonetheless. To say that they deconstructed Juliet would be too clinical but they certainly delved around in her psyche.
The Hungarian Juliet, Ubrankovics Júlia, is billed as an award-winning actress (she's even got a profile on IMDB!!) and indeed, it was clear that she was no amateur. It was surprising then that Sophie Thompson, The English Juliet, billed as "from London" went beyond the call of duty, soundtracking the whole thing by singing ghostly medieval melodies that seamlessly wove in and out of the script. Even if you have no theatrical bone in your body, you couldn't fail to be impressed by her undertaking.
With such chemistry, it was a surprise that our post-performance chat with the cast, and director, Engi-Nagy Natália, felt a little strained. Little did we know that Júlia had just announced that she wouldn't be taking part in any further shows. (With an audience that barely numbered twenty, you can understand why.) With two further shows scheduled for late May, and performances at the Camden Fringe Festival lined up, Natália has been quick to recruit news reporter, Kucsera Olga!
To see how she handles the switch to the stage, head to Sirály on Tuesday 26th or Wednesday 27th May. That gives me two weeks to brush up on my Shakespeare before finding out whether Olga can preserve the crucial balance and match the intensity of Júlia's performance. Who knows, she may even growl at me too.
Keep up to date with developments by following Natália's performance diary blog here.
Andy Sz.
A minimal set and costumes reflected a now familiar approach to Shakespeare, and as the audience entered, Juliet was already romping with herself in the middle of a featureless stage. I was quickly reassured that the Juliets would not be an exact duplicate of each other: some lines and movements were mirrored, others weren't. When one Juliet spoke, the other became a silent Romeo; a setting; a thought at the back of Juliet's mind.
While I'm sure there was a definite direction to the script, seeing Romeo & Juliet performed a few years ago was not sufficient for me to follow the story as such. Shakespeare-lovers or anyone who's actually read the thing recently would therefore have a much different experience. Add to that, the fact that some of the audience would understand the Hungarian, some the English, and others both or neither, and we suddenly have eight different plays on show. (Anyone who is unfamiliar with Romeo & Juliet and understands neither language might be in for a rough ride.)
In the absence of a straightforward narrative, it was the performances that took on the great burden of keeping me interested, and both Juliets were exceptional. That they were not alike was crucial: one, physical, sexual and occasionally animalistic (she growled at me as soon as I sat down) and the other slight and delicate. If you only understood the language of one, the other took on a mysterious presence but at the fore nonetheless. To say that they deconstructed Juliet would be too clinical but they certainly delved around in her psyche.The Hungarian Juliet, Ubrankovics Júlia, is billed as an award-winning actress (she's even got a profile on IMDB!!) and indeed, it was clear that she was no amateur. It was surprising then that Sophie Thompson, The English Juliet, billed as "from London" went beyond the call of duty, soundtracking the whole thing by singing ghostly medieval melodies that seamlessly wove in and out of the script. Even if you have no theatrical bone in your body, you couldn't fail to be impressed by her undertaking.
With such chemistry, it was a surprise that our post-performance chat with the cast, and director, Engi-Nagy Natália, felt a little strained. Little did we know that Júlia had just announced that she wouldn't be taking part in any further shows. (With an audience that barely numbered twenty, you can understand why.) With two further shows scheduled for late May, and performances at the Camden Fringe Festival lined up, Natália has been quick to recruit news reporter, Kucsera Olga!
To see how she handles the switch to the stage, head to Sirály on Tuesday 26th or Wednesday 27th May. That gives me two weeks to brush up on my Shakespeare before finding out whether Olga can preserve the crucial balance and match the intensity of Júlia's performance. Who knows, she may even growl at me too.
Keep up to date with developments by following Natália's performance diary blog here.
Andy Sz.
Ludwig Museum, until 5th July
Tues.-Sun. 10:00-20:00, 800 ft
Komor Marcell u. 1 [map]Pest, IX, Boraros tér (T 4,6), 8 min
Hinging your career on the stardom of others starts with a gut feeling and some incredible strokes of good luck. Such was the case with renowned photographer, Anton Corbijn from the beginning.
Jacob P.
Rewind 30 years from present and you’ll find a shy, young man in his early twenties making a snap decision to move from his native Netherlands to London. His singular motivation was the music of a band that would posthumously, and, upon the suicide of the front man, be known ‘round the world. That band: Joy Division. Corbijn, barely able to speak English, photographed them just two weeks after he arrived in London in 1979 (the photo appears as a central figure of the show), and that’s where things really began.
Fast forward almost thirty years and that same photographer is making his first feature-length film, Control, a biopic about the tragic life of Ian Curtis, the troubled troubadour of that little band he photographed in a London Tube station.
With such clear "bookends," it's a fine time for a massive career-spanning retrospective, simply titled, “Work.”
Corbijn has photographed countless integral underground and mainstream musicians, made some of the most recognizable music videos of all time – Nirvana’s “Heart-Shaped Box” being one – and reduced some of the world’s biggest film stars to meager-looking mortals. (One exception is his portrait of physicist, Stephen Hawking, who he makes look like a rock star.) Dylan, Ginsberg, Cash, U2, Kraftwerk, Waits, De Niro, Eastwood...his list of subjects goes on in impressive fashion.
“Composition is easy,” Corbijn said, at a recent free screening of Control at A38, part of the "Holland Kultfeszt." He says he places the importance on the person behind the camera, an emphasis easy to make if you've got a portfolio like Corbijn's.
Regardless, you'd find it hard to argue the fact that his work is strung together in a manner that is distinctly his. The graininess that comes from a 35mm negative being blown up beyond the natural limit, and the blurred subjects, rendered imperfect and almost featureless, are both signatures of his early work in black and white .
Later in his career his prints shrink down and sharpen, yet there is no connection lost between photographer and subject. It’s obvious that Corbijn somehow gets these celebrated people to open up. He forces them into a relationship with the camera; either that or he coaxes it out of them. Judging from Corbijn’s modest demeanor and the intimacy reflected in his photographs, the latter is probably true.
His numerous photos of Depeche Mode are a case in point. An entire room is devoted to them, in honor of the role he's played in their visual aesthetic that's always been akin to their music.
In recent years, Corbin has turned the camera on himself, or rather versions of himself dressed as other people. In the series “a. somebody” he employs a style of self-portrait that evokes the work of Cindy Sherman. Here, Corbijn imitates musicians who died in full glare of the media, some he worked with (i.e. Ian Curtis, Kurt Cobain) and some he never had the chance to (i.e. John Lennon).
Walking through the multitude of photographs that make up Corbijn’s life's work, one can truly grasp the weight of these images. While they can be visually stunning, both for the saturation and the simple compositions, they also cut through the gloss to show a more intimate, human side of those that so often placed atop pedestals.
Yes, the chance to photograph four skinny, shivering musicians from Manchester served as the launch pad for Corbijn, but, like his subjects, it's taken more than luck to keep him amongst the stars. If you’re a fan of photography, music, or stardom, this exhibition shouldn’t go unseen.
Anton Corbjin Antwon Corbin Antone Corbwin
Fast forward almost thirty years and that same photographer is making his first feature-length film, Control, a biopic about the tragic life of Ian Curtis, the troubled troubadour of that little band he photographed in a London Tube station.With such clear "bookends," it's a fine time for a massive career-spanning retrospective, simply titled, “Work.”
Corbijn has photographed countless integral underground and mainstream musicians, made some of the most recognizable music videos of all time – Nirvana’s “Heart-Shaped Box” being one – and reduced some of the world’s biggest film stars to meager-looking mortals. (One exception is his portrait of physicist, Stephen Hawking, who he makes look like a rock star.) Dylan, Ginsberg, Cash, U2, Kraftwerk, Waits, De Niro, Eastwood...his list of subjects goes on in impressive fashion.
“Composition is easy,” Corbijn said, at a recent free screening of Control at A38, part of the "Holland Kultfeszt." He says he places the importance on the person behind the camera, an emphasis easy to make if you've got a portfolio like Corbijn's.
Regardless, you'd find it hard to argue the fact that his work is strung together in a manner that is distinctly his. The graininess that comes from a 35mm negative being blown up beyond the natural limit, and the blurred subjects, rendered imperfect and almost featureless, are both signatures of his early work in black and white .
Later in his career his prints shrink down and sharpen, yet there is no connection lost between photographer and subject. It’s obvious that Corbijn somehow gets these celebrated people to open up. He forces them into a relationship with the camera; either that or he coaxes it out of them. Judging from Corbijn’s modest demeanor and the intimacy reflected in his photographs, the latter is probably true.His numerous photos of Depeche Mode are a case in point. An entire room is devoted to them, in honor of the role he's played in their visual aesthetic that's always been akin to their music.
In recent years, Corbin has turned the camera on himself, or rather versions of himself dressed as other people. In the series “a. somebody” he employs a style of self-portrait that evokes the work of Cindy Sherman. Here, Corbijn imitates musicians who died in full glare of the media, some he worked with (i.e. Ian Curtis, Kurt Cobain) and some he never had the chance to (i.e. John Lennon).Walking through the multitude of photographs that make up Corbijn’s life's work, one can truly grasp the weight of these images. While they can be visually stunning, both for the saturation and the simple compositions, they also cut through the gloss to show a more intimate, human side of those that so often placed atop pedestals.
Yes, the chance to photograph four skinny, shivering musicians from Manchester served as the launch pad for Corbijn, but, like his subjects, it's taken more than luck to keep him amongst the stars. If you’re a fan of photography, music, or stardom, this exhibition shouldn’t go unseen.
Anton Corbjin Antwon Corbin Antone Corbwin
Picasso Point
Hajós utca 31 [map]
Pest Centre, Opera (M1), 3 min
Entertaining, Mr Sloane? Well, eventually.
Equus productions debuted last spring with an enterprising and gripping version of Equus, which caught me happily off-guard. (Review here.) This time out, Rhett Stevens has a stab at Joe Orton's 1964 black comedy, Entertaining Mr Sloane, about a lodger, a landlady, her brother and a murder or two.
Staged in Picasso Point's brick basement, the venue is not ideal, and a stage flanked by the audience on either side was the first suggestion that pragmatic solutions would outweigh inspired choices.
With only four characters and no restrictions on nationality, you might think that casting would be a doddle. Not so. With the original Sloane - controversially, middle-aged and black - pulling out midway through rehearsals, and the director standing in as Kemp, it's a miracle that there's anything to review.
Sloane, like Equus before it, has recently enjoyed a West End revival, although its suitability for a budget Budapest production with an international audience is rather more questionable. Equus was a weird story but crucially, it was extremely visual. Sloane, on the other hand, is a lot more dependent on the script and is set in a house on the edge of a rubbish tip. The action in Act I was so fast and furious that whenever my view was obscured, I was content to stare at the back of the head in front of me until I could see again.
So even without a slightly jittery start and a mistimed doorbell - the hallmarks of amateur theatre anywhere - the slow-paced, dated and anglocentric script made the struggle all the more palpable. Modernisms were added but mentions of contact lenses, joyriding and boxer shorts couldn't drag it into the present.
While I certainly didn't want to see a "Carry On Mr Sloane", I did feel that a bolder interpretation of the characters would have given the first act a greater sense of purpose. Sylvia Llewelyn's Kath was the strongest performance, based largely on an Are You Being Served? era Wendy Richard. Daniel Hall's delivery had a certain Michael Caine chic, while Rhett Steven's Kemp hinted at Buster Merryfield, without exploiting its comic potential. With no English archetype to reference, Béres Miklós, undisputable star of Equus, was left a little adrift.
Fortunately, Orton's script picks up in Acts II and III, as the wretched characters reveal more of themselves. It's also more liberally peppered with insults and quips and gradually, the audience's uncertainty gave way to wry smiles and the odd guffaw. The final curtain was accompanied by enough enthusiasm for the cast to bow twice, but the applause was polite rather than rapturous.
So Equus' second production just about keeps them on track, and remains the only opportunity you're likely to get to see challenging English theatre in Budapest. However, it does highlight that, in theatrical terms, 45 years is a long time and 1000 miles is a long way.
The last two performances will be held on Tuesday 5th and Wednesday 6th May at 19:45. Details here.
Andy Sz.
Equus productions debuted last spring with an enterprising and gripping version of Equus, which caught me happily off-guard. (Review here.) This time out, Rhett Stevens has a stab at Joe Orton's 1964 black comedy, Entertaining Mr Sloane, about a lodger, a landlady, her brother and a murder or two.
Staged in Picasso Point's brick basement, the venue is not ideal, and a stage flanked by the audience on either side was the first suggestion that pragmatic solutions would outweigh inspired choices.
With only four characters and no restrictions on nationality, you might think that casting would be a doddle. Not so. With the original Sloane - controversially, middle-aged and black - pulling out midway through rehearsals, and the director standing in as Kemp, it's a miracle that there's anything to review.
Sloane, like Equus before it, has recently enjoyed a West End revival, although its suitability for a budget Budapest production with an international audience is rather more questionable. Equus was a weird story but crucially, it was extremely visual. Sloane, on the other hand, is a lot more dependent on the script and is set in a house on the edge of a rubbish tip. The action in Act I was so fast and furious that whenever my view was obscured, I was content to stare at the back of the head in front of me until I could see again.
So even without a slightly jittery start and a mistimed doorbell - the hallmarks of amateur theatre anywhere - the slow-paced, dated and anglocentric script made the struggle all the more palpable. Modernisms were added but mentions of contact lenses, joyriding and boxer shorts couldn't drag it into the present.
While I certainly didn't want to see a "Carry On Mr Sloane", I did feel that a bolder interpretation of the characters would have given the first act a greater sense of purpose. Sylvia Llewelyn's Kath was the strongest performance, based largely on an Are You Being Served? era Wendy Richard. Daniel Hall's delivery had a certain Michael Caine chic, while Rhett Steven's Kemp hinted at Buster Merryfield, without exploiting its comic potential. With no English archetype to reference, Béres Miklós, undisputable star of Equus, was left a little adrift.
Fortunately, Orton's script picks up in Acts II and III, as the wretched characters reveal more of themselves. It's also more liberally peppered with insults and quips and gradually, the audience's uncertainty gave way to wry smiles and the odd guffaw. The final curtain was accompanied by enough enthusiasm for the cast to bow twice, but the applause was polite rather than rapturous.
So Equus' second production just about keeps them on track, and remains the only opportunity you're likely to get to see challenging English theatre in Budapest. However, it does highlight that, in theatrical terms, 45 years is a long time and 1000 miles is a long way.
The last two performances will be held on Tuesday 5th and Wednesday 6th May at 19:45. Details here.
Andy Sz.
Műcsarnok, until 17th May
Dózsa György út 37 (Hősök tere) [map]
Pest, XIV, Hősök tere (M1), 2 min
Without a doubt, "Mi Vida - From Heaven to Hell", the exhibition on loan from Spain’s MUSAC in León, is the show to see in the city at the moment. In fact, it’s one of the best I’ve seen here, or anywhere for that matter. The title of the show is spot on. Not a strict divide between paradise and the burning netherworld, it concerns itself with all that lies between the two: life.
From large video works and performance art, to photographs, installations, and paintings; strangely, it all links up under the umbrella of “human discourse,” unlike another group show happening in Budapest at the moment. From familial turmoil and oddities (see Jesper Just and Tracey Moffatt), to sexual and surreal (see Marina Abramovic and Pipilotti Rist), to war and human destruction (see Cristina Garciá Rodero and Thomas Hirschhorn); the ugly and the beautiful are shown side by side in immaculate curatorial fashion.
If the attendance at the opening is any indication of the importance of Mi Vida, then the fact that you could barely move speaks volumes, and some recognizable names don't hurt either. One might expect with 36 artists and over 100 pieces, there’d be plenty of duds. However, nothing could be further from the truth. Sure, artists like Canadian heavy-hitter, Marcel Dzama, are that bit more accomplished but the lesser works are more than just filler.
Dzama’s small-scale ink and watercolor drawings are surrealist and comic book-esque. They are without background or contextual objects allowing the fantastic characters’ peculiar actions to fill the empty space. The paintings of re-worked Polaroids in Enrique Marty’s “La Familia” are equally imaginative. The color and technique is devilish, violent and unsettling, evoking something reminiscent of The Texas Chainsaw Massacre.
While Dzama and Marty’s works play primarily in the realm of the bizarre, the large-scale photo capturing destruction on a road in Kabul by Luc Delahaye, brings the exhibition back into the realm of reality: the pain of personal loss that lies behind the camera’s main focus. Meanwhile, Tomas Hirschhorn’s massive installation entitled United Nations Miniatures, may appear comical on the surface, before the stark reality behind the miniaturization of so many indistinguishable war atrocities sets in.
It’s not all doom and gloom though. An entire room (blatantly marked 18+, so kiddies beware!) is dedicated to Serbian artist, Marina Abramovic’s “Balkan Erotic Epic.” Here Abramovic questions the presentation of “information” by documenting obscure, sexual agricultural rites. Despite their patent absurdity, they remain somehow convincing. The video of the women in traditional garb running around in the rain flashing their genitals and breasts to the sky, and the one of the naked men frantically thrusting into the soil are guaranteed to amuse, at the very least.
Also following a comedic line, is Candice Breitz’s “Mother” – the distillation of six famous motherly roles in Hollywood films. Each mother, including actresses Meryl Streep and Julia Roberts, is given her own screen in a pitch-black room where they are arranged in a stadium-like semi-circle. Everything around them is digitally removed, blackened out, focusing the attention on their emotions. The repetition of noises, snivels, and moans showcases the spectrum of motherly emotions in a span of just 13 minutes.
The presentation of much of the work is inventive and follows with the “on the cutting cusp” execution and feeling of the show. This is most evident in the presentation of Wolfgang Tillmans’ photographs, which are strewn about the wall in an erratic but calculated fashion. Some are massive, high-hanging and framed, others are small and simply taped, un-matted, to the wall in a series.
Only the work of American photographer, Ryan McGinley is largely underwhelming. McGinley has become highly regarded as a young photographer in the past ten years, and Műcsarnok’s promotional posters boast that his work is included in the show. However, to me, his photos are highly self-indulgent and lack any real discourse: it’s just American youth in the desert, nakedly basking in their parents’ trust fund.
Mi Vida is a show that is exciting for its presentation and near-flawless execution, and also for the subjects that are tackled within. The most poignant trends in the contemporary art world lie within the walls of Műcsarnok at this very moment. Get there at any cost before the show closes on the 17th of May!
All photos courtesy Műcsarnok, except the topmost.
Jacob P.
From large video works and performance art, to photographs, installations, and paintings; strangely, it all links up under the umbrella of “human discourse,” unlike another group show happening in Budapest at the moment. From familial turmoil and oddities (see Jesper Just and Tracey Moffatt), to sexual and surreal (see Marina Abramovic and Pipilotti Rist), to war and human destruction (see Cristina Garciá Rodero and Thomas Hirschhorn); the ugly and the beautiful are shown side by side in immaculate curatorial fashion.
If the attendance at the opening is any indication of the importance of Mi Vida, then the fact that you could barely move speaks volumes, and some recognizable names don't hurt either. One might expect with 36 artists and over 100 pieces, there’d be plenty of duds. However, nothing could be further from the truth. Sure, artists like Canadian heavy-hitter, Marcel Dzama, are that bit more accomplished but the lesser works are more than just filler.Dzama’s small-scale ink and watercolor drawings are surrealist and comic book-esque. They are without background or contextual objects allowing the fantastic characters’ peculiar actions to fill the empty space. The paintings of re-worked Polaroids in Enrique Marty’s “La Familia” are equally imaginative. The color and technique is devilish, violent and unsettling, evoking something reminiscent of The Texas Chainsaw Massacre.
While Dzama and Marty’s works play primarily in the realm of the bizarre, the large-scale photo capturing destruction on a road in Kabul by Luc Delahaye, brings the exhibition back into the realm of reality: the pain of personal loss that lies behind the camera’s main focus. Meanwhile, Tomas Hirschhorn’s massive installation entitled United Nations Miniatures, may appear comical on the surface, before the stark reality behind the miniaturization of so many indistinguishable war atrocities sets in.
It’s not all doom and gloom though. An entire room (blatantly marked 18+, so kiddies beware!) is dedicated to Serbian artist, Marina Abramovic’s “Balkan Erotic Epic.” Here Abramovic questions the presentation of “information” by documenting obscure, sexual agricultural rites. Despite their patent absurdity, they remain somehow convincing. The video of the women in traditional garb running around in the rain flashing their genitals and breasts to the sky, and the one of the naked men frantically thrusting into the soil are guaranteed to amuse, at the very least.
Also following a comedic line, is Candice Breitz’s “Mother” – the distillation of six famous motherly roles in Hollywood films. Each mother, including actresses Meryl Streep and Julia Roberts, is given her own screen in a pitch-black room where they are arranged in a stadium-like semi-circle. Everything around them is digitally removed, blackened out, focusing the attention on their emotions. The repetition of noises, snivels, and moans showcases the spectrum of motherly emotions in a span of just 13 minutes. The presentation of much of the work is inventive and follows with the “on the cutting cusp” execution and feeling of the show. This is most evident in the presentation of Wolfgang Tillmans’ photographs, which are strewn about the wall in an erratic but calculated fashion. Some are massive, high-hanging and framed, others are small and simply taped, un-matted, to the wall in a series.
Only the work of American photographer, Ryan McGinley is largely underwhelming. McGinley has become highly regarded as a young photographer in the past ten years, and Műcsarnok’s promotional posters boast that his work is included in the show. However, to me, his photos are highly self-indulgent and lack any real discourse: it’s just American youth in the desert, nakedly basking in their parents’ trust fund.
Mi Vida is a show that is exciting for its presentation and near-flawless execution, and also for the subjects that are tackled within. The most poignant trends in the contemporary art world lie within the walls of Műcsarnok at this very moment. Get there at any cost before the show closes on the 17th of May!
All photos courtesy Műcsarnok, except the topmost.
Jacob P.
Tues.-Sun. 10:00-18:00,1200 ft
Komor Marcell u. 1 [map]Pest, IX, Boraros tér (T 4,6), 8 min
Art, in times of economic desperation, might appear frivolous, and spending copious amounts of money on it can seem downright wrong. That’s one way of looking at it. The other: art is an essential means of escape, especially in times like these. The folks at the Ludwig Museum take the latter view, as you would expect, but it looks like they're scraping around in their pockets like the rest of us.
The art that comprises New Acquisitions is mostly what they’ve purchased in the past couple of years and is all contemporary, if not the newest in new. Pieces by Hungarian artists make up most of the show, but there are several works from artists around the world including Chinese artist, Csi Peng, whose “True And False Money King” might hint at a fitting theme.
Alas, the selection of photography, painting, sculpture, collage, and video seems to have everything but unity. An exhibition of recent acquisitions is bound to be a mixed bag but here the emphasis is most definitely on the 'mixed'. The neon piece, “Little Warsaw” doesn’t really tie in with Péter Gémes’s brilliant, pictogram-esque large-scale black and white negatives, nor Antal Lakner’s comical “Passive Working Devices” (above, right). But then again, nothing meshes.
Something that always tends to wear me out at these group shows is the sheer amount of video work on display. I feel like an A.D.D. kid inside a Chuck E. Cheese that’s inside of a Toys R Us that’s inside of a McDonald’s PlayPlace. Then, when you get to watch them, it suddenly transforms into a series of 5-15 minutes comas... and New Acquisitions has 7 of them.
The art that comprises New Acquisitions is mostly what they’ve purchased in the past couple of years and is all contemporary, if not the newest in new. Pieces by Hungarian artists make up most of the show, but there are several works from artists around the world including Chinese artist, Csi Peng, whose “True And False Money King” might hint at a fitting theme.
Alas, the selection of photography, painting, sculpture, collage, and video seems to have everything but unity. An exhibition of recent acquisitions is bound to be a mixed bag but here the emphasis is most definitely on the 'mixed'. The neon piece, “Little Warsaw” doesn’t really tie in with Péter Gémes’s brilliant, pictogram-esque large-scale black and white negatives, nor Antal Lakner’s comical “Passive Working Devices” (above, right). But then again, nothing meshes.
Something that always tends to wear me out at these group shows is the sheer amount of video work on display. I feel like an A.D.D. kid inside a Chuck E. Cheese that’s inside of a Toys R Us that’s inside of a McDonald’s PlayPlace. Then, when you get to watch them, it suddenly transforms into a series of 5-15 minutes comas... and New Acquisitions has 7 of them.
Throughout the exhibition, no single piece really stands out as envelope-pushing or jaw-droppingly, mind-blowingly amazing. That said, the pieces do make for a reasonable discourse on Hungarian art and its place within the larger spectrum of contemporary art. Thanks to the economic crisis, it would seem that LUMU is keeping things up longer than usual, giving you until mid-June to check it out. So it's not exactly essential and there's no rush: just see if you can scrape together enough forints from the cracks in your couch.
Jacob P.
Young Widows. Quite a fitting moniker when you sit down and take a look at this Louisville, Kentucky, USA band’s history. Both guitarist/vocalist Evan Patterson and Nick Thieneman, who pulls bass and vocal duties, carried their former band, Breather Resist from the ashes after their vocalist was asked to depart. Their latest effort, Old Wounds, is just their second (sort of) studio full length, but that by no means constitutes their salad days of pavement pounding.A precise live set that consists entirely of Old Wounds from start to finish on this European tour has got Young Widows continuing their legacy of a near-constant tour schedule. They’re on tour almost non-stop through mid-April, which takes them back to the US to play the famed SXSW festival in Austin, Texas. This three-piece, which also includes drummer, Jeremy McMonigle, has managed to keep a squeaky clean, explosive live show, without the fat. No colorful lights, no fog machines, no bullshit. The songs are stripped down—forget samples and special effects. What you hear on the album, you get live. When the band made a stop in Budapest on February 18th, we had the chance to catch up with them.
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HUB- So you're playing Old Wounds in it's entirety on this European tour, how's that been going over, especially in the places you haven't played before?
Evan- It's going very well. We are literally soiling ourselves every night.
Jeremy- Really awesome.
Nick- I second that.
HUB- In terms of the recording process for Old Wounds, why did you do just four songs in a live setting and not the whole album? With that said, the album sounds cohesive, not just in the songs, but in the recording, were you worried it wouldn't?
Nick- No, some of the songs we wanted to record live and some in the studio. We just had to feel it out through the live sessions and listening back to everything.
Jeremy- We had the utmost faith in Kurt’s [Ballou of the band Converge and engineer/owner of Godcity Studio] ability. So we knew that it would all come together.
Evan- Some of the best drum sounds we got were in our friends house the first day we met up with Kurt. We had mics going up staircases, in a kitchen, and it really came out huge.
HUB- The music industry seems to be changing as we know it, at least the sales of records, how did that effect this latest album? Was that a factor in the recording, sort of bringing it back to the roots of a live show?
Jeremy- Not really we just wanted to do it that way for our own gratification.
Evan- The music industry is boring and has nothing to do with our band. We aren't trying to bring anything back, we're trying to make new sounds, patterns, and songs that we find natural and compelling.
HUB- Vinyl as a format is looking like a better and better way to make money from album sales, especially with the rabid (illegal) download culture. It seems doing limited runs is the way to do things, for example your 7" series. Does the downloading/blog culture play any sort of role in the way you guys do things?
Jeremy, Nick, Evan- No.
HUB- With that said, how do you guys feel about this downloading generation? If people are stealing your album from blogs and the like, especially in a place like Budapest, where not so many stores are going to have your record, does that get you "Lars Ulrich angry?"
Evan- Denying it seems pointless. I just downloaded Crime and the City Solution and Swell Maps records right before this tour. It was my first time and I've been listening to those records non-stop this entire tour. Amazing music.
Jeremy- Not really. If that’s how people get into our band, cool. Maybe they will come to the show and buy a copy of the record. Actually that very situation placed at a show in France.
HUB- What about the economic crisis? Does that have an effect on you guys as a band/album sales/touring? Do you find yourselves needing to tour more to make ends meet?
Evan- We're under the crisis line and I honestly haven't even thought about its effect on our band. This band is more about the art and the ideas, nothing else.
Jeremy- Not yet and hopefully it won’t ever.
HUB- A lot of the stops on this European tour are pretty standard, and not so many underground US bands come through Budapest, it seems kind of off the beaten tour path. You mentioned during your set that you guys love this city, was that a main motivating factor to play here?
Nick- Well, Breather Resist played [in Budapest] in 2005 and the show went well plus we got to see a lot of the city and it's amazing.
Jeremy- It seemed like a cool place. Even though it was a bit out of the way it was worth playing because the show was nice.
Evan- Wonderful and passionate people have brought us to Budapest and that is what makes me love Buda, Pest, and the little island between [Margit Sziget] that brings the two together.
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Check out Young Widows at their MySpace page here.
(Interview & Photos: Jacob P)
HUB- So you're playing Old Wounds in it's entirety on this European tour, how's that been going over, especially in the places you haven't played before?
Evan- It's going very well. We are literally soiling ourselves every night.
Jeremy- Really awesome.
Nick- I second that.
HUB- In terms of the recording process for Old Wounds, why did you do just four songs in a live setting and not the whole album? With that said, the album sounds cohesive, not just in the songs, but in the recording, were you worried it wouldn't?
Nick- No, some of the songs we wanted to record live and some in the studio. We just had to feel it out through the live sessions and listening back to everything.
Jeremy- We had the utmost faith in Kurt’s [Ballou of the band Converge and engineer/owner of Godcity Studio] ability. So we knew that it would all come together.
Evan- Some of the best drum sounds we got were in our friends house the first day we met up with Kurt. We had mics going up staircases, in a kitchen, and it really came out huge.
HUB- The music industry seems to be changing as we know it, at least the sales of records, how did that effect this latest album? Was that a factor in the recording, sort of bringing it back to the roots of a live show?
Jeremy- Not really we just wanted to do it that way for our own gratification.
Evan- The music industry is boring and has nothing to do with our band. We aren't trying to bring anything back, we're trying to make new sounds, patterns, and songs that we find natural and compelling.
HUB- Vinyl as a format is looking like a better and better way to make money from album sales, especially with the rabid (illegal) download culture. It seems doing limited runs is the way to do things, for example your 7" series. Does the downloading/blog culture play any sort of role in the way you guys do things?
Jeremy, Nick, Evan- No.
HUB- With that said, how do you guys feel about this downloading generation? If people are stealing your album from blogs and the like, especially in a place like Budapest, where not so many stores are going to have your record, does that get you "Lars Ulrich angry?"
Evan- Denying it seems pointless. I just downloaded Crime and the City Solution and Swell Maps records right before this tour. It was my first time and I've been listening to those records non-stop this entire tour. Amazing music.
Jeremy- Not really. If that’s how people get into our band, cool. Maybe they will come to the show and buy a copy of the record. Actually that very situation placed at a show in France.
HUB- What about the economic crisis? Does that have an effect on you guys as a band/album sales/touring? Do you find yourselves needing to tour more to make ends meet?
Evan- We're under the crisis line and I honestly haven't even thought about its effect on our band. This band is more about the art and the ideas, nothing else.
Jeremy- Not yet and hopefully it won’t ever.
HUB- A lot of the stops on this European tour are pretty standard, and not so many underground US bands come through Budapest, it seems kind of off the beaten tour path. You mentioned during your set that you guys love this city, was that a main motivating factor to play here?
Nick- Well, Breather Resist played [in Budapest] in 2005 and the show went well plus we got to see a lot of the city and it's amazing.
Jeremy- It seemed like a cool place. Even though it was a bit out of the way it was worth playing because the show was nice.
Evan- Wonderful and passionate people have brought us to Budapest and that is what makes me love Buda, Pest, and the little island between [Margit Sziget] that brings the two together.
__________________________________
Check out Young Widows at their MySpace page here.
(Interview & Photos: Jacob P)
Irrational Orthodox Noise look like they've just stepped out of a salon.
This betrays a certain 1980s ethos, but they're more New Wave than New Romantic. That's not in the pick 'n' mix Joy Division-by-numbers style either, that seems to be de rigeur among indie bands in Budapest and elsewhere (EZ Basic for example.) At times, they're a pretty good fit for Bernard Sumner's "depressing dance music" moniker, especially if you add 'industrial' as a prefix.
Songs are varied: "Teach Me How to Fly" is both sinister and dreamy; the dark electronica of "Check in Your Body" somehow remains radio friendly, at least until you reach the industrial boat-coming-into-the-harbour outro; while "Sounddress" is more of a warbling art project than a song.
When it comes to alternative music in Budapest there's a paucity of talent and an abundance of the ersatz. ION, however, are not part of the fashion. They tap into the history of independent music and come up with something that sounds genuinely 1987.
Sample them below or check their myspace here.
Andy Sz.
Songs are varied: "Teach Me How to Fly" is both sinister and dreamy; the dark electronica of "Check in Your Body" somehow remains radio friendly, at least until you reach the industrial boat-coming-into-the-harbour outro; while "Sounddress" is more of a warbling art project than a song.
When it comes to alternative music in Budapest there's a paucity of talent and an abundance of the ersatz. ION, however, are not part of the fashion. They tap into the history of independent music and come up with something that sounds genuinely 1987.
Sample them below or check their myspace here.
Andy Sz.
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