Lucas stopped by the other night and told me about an article in Missoula.com Magazine that dubbed Missoula “The Paris of the West”. The article featured several well known visual artists and writers and profiled their lives and their art. Did the feature tell the whole story? The writing was good, as was the story. The photographs were incredible, featuring, for example, Missoula writer Jeff Hull sitting at The Oxford Bar. The Ox is the oldest bar in Missoula, though it was not always known as The Oxford. It pre-dates prohibition, and has since become a pretty seedy place. It’s open 24 hours, and after 2AM, it is a haven for drunks looking for a cup of coffee and some sustenance to sober them up enough to drive home. Meanwhile, regulars sit and play cards for money up in front. It’s a dirty bar that welcomes all sorts of riff-raff, and I’ve spent more than one early morning there. But. The writer does not seem like the type to frequent a place like this. Yet the photo implies that it is his stomping grounds. Maybe it is, I don’t know him. But I’ve never seen him in there, and the photo is pretty glitzy. Seems pretty staged to me.

Regardless. Missoula, the Paris of the West?

Condos have been popping up relentlessly here in town. Last year, I attended an open house at one of the condos that opened near Le Petit Outre. It’s a beautiful space, office buildings on the first floor with contemporarily designed two bedroom condos above. Apparently I looked like a potential buyer, as the realtor mentioned that “this neighborhood is full of artists, and is close to downtown. It’s a great location.” It is a great location, close to downtown, and, like he said, is a neighborhood full of artists. I looked at him and said, “The things you say are true. Don’t you think that by building a $350,000 per unit set of condos that you are pricing the artists right out of this neighborhood?” He had no response for me.

Last year, I was lucky enough to have been able to pay my rent four months running by selling artwork. This year, I have not even had enough cash to buy materials to mat and frame artwork, much less spend cash on marketing (posters, ads, postcards, postage) for exhibitions. My former day-job laid me off in October, saying that they were going to call me back to work in March. March rolls around, and they still can’t afford payroll, so they can’t call me back, but could I come back in June? By June, they would definitely have their act together enough to cover payroll and call me back to work. I said, Sure, see you in June. I gave them the benefit of the doubt, believed them, and did not look for other work. Meantime, I experimented with different things, including trying to build this site from scratch as a means to earn a little extra cash. I experimented with different art styles, I made a bunch of art, I lived frugally, I was looking forward to returning to work, but I wasn’t looking for another job.

June rolls around, and they can’t call me back to work. It takes me a while, but I am lucky enough to find a job. It’s a great job, great boss. Hard work, mowing lawns and landscaping in, sometimes, 100º+ temperatures, with, recently, heavy smoke from wildland fires. In the meantime, I fell behind on some of my bills and, though I make enough to make it, when you are behind, it’s difficult to catch up, much less make ends meet.

So I’ve been working 9, 10, 11 hour days mowing lawns, digging ditches and hauling huge rocks around. (”That boulder is too large, I could lift a smaller one.”) It doesn’t leave me with much time to create art, sell it, or do much else in that arena. Meanwhile, the summer is coming to a close pretty quickly, and the landscaping will end soon. Soon after that, the lawn mowing will cease, and I’ll need to find another job. This paycheck to paycheck shit sucks, let me tell you.

Yeah, Missoula’s been called “The Paris of the West” before, apparently by John Updike, but I’ve been unable to corroborate this claim. Yet, there have been other “Paris of the West” towns, most notably, San Francisco. The Missoula artists that are recognizable are the same ones over and over. Dudly Dana, Monte Dolack, Jonathan Qualben, David James Duncan and William Kittredge. That there is name recognition for these artists does not diminish their work by any means. I’m suggesting that if indeed Missoula is “the Paris of the West”, the whole story has not been presented.

Artists who are struggling to produce original work, struggling to say something with their art, struggling to make it as artists who have’t sold out to marketing and tourism, who haven’t sold themselves short, and I say that because I think many of the well-known artists have great talent, but have chosen to make the art that they make because it is marketable. The executive who comes to Missoula from Chicago, pays beau-coup bucks to stay at Paws Up, pays and exorbitant amount of money for Orvis gear he will never use again, pays a fishing guide a ridiculous sum, then, as a memento of his Montana trip, makes a stop at Monte Dolack’s place has no real idea about the artists in Missoula who are struggling to make a difference. And he doesn’t care. Why should he?

What about the unknown artists? The ones who haven’t “made it”? The performance artists about whom I have written before, the singers who quit their jobs to focus on their singing careers or quit school to pursue a living as a musician? The unknown visual artists who are struggling against obscurity and managing to make a go of it? Why were people like these omitted from the over-hyped article in Missoula.com Magazine? Like Paris, Missoula has its share of street kids, its share of bohemians and starving artists. But that segment of the arts community allegedly doesn’t bring dollars into the local economy. We know that isn’t true, so why are they ignored in a feature story such as this one?

So why do we stay here, us artists who sometimes can’t afford to make our art, or, other times, rely on the kindness of friends in order to have a meal and share a beer or two? We stay here because we love Missoula, Montana. We love the country, the community, and we want to make a difference right here right now, in a town that is being torn in many different directions by many different factions, be they builders, Californicators, tourists, with whom we have a love-hate relationship, or a variety of other factors. We care, we have something to say, we want to create and share beauty while pointing out the truths we see among us. Which are sometimes beautiful, but sometimes are painful to look at, examine and admit.

Some of us, though, can’t stay. About a month ago, I managed to drag myself out of bed fairly early before work and make it to The Good Food Store for a breakfast burrito and some coffee before heading to load up the truck with mowers and gasoline. While I sat eating my breakfast, a friend, a dancer, sat down with me for a few minutes. She had just returned from a stint away from town before, she informed me, preparing to move to Helena.

If it is the Paris of the West, Missoula is, lacking the amazing architecture, the history and the world renowned art, an amazing place to visit, a great place to live. Yes, it’s difficult to eek out a living here for many, and because of that, some of us find ourselves working two, three jobs, rarely finding time to get out and explore the beauty for which we moved here, or, for those who are natives, the beauty for which they stayed. Still, Missoula’s a great town, and I am proud to be a part of it. I wish, though, that the marketing folks would acknowledge the unknown, no-name artists once in a while. Or that we unknowns could figure out a better way to make ourselves known. And that the arts community in this town was more supportive of each other, that the well-knowns did more to help the underdogs become more exposed, more appreciated, more MORE.

Everything I’m saying, of course, isn’t related to Missoula being the Paris of the West. Nawp. The article was merely a jumping off point for me to ramble about some of the things that have been trampling my brain recently and relentlessly.

Donate and Support the Artist
I know it’s been said before, but every little bit helps. I accept donations in any amount, none are too small or too large. All donations and gifts will be used to nurture my artistic talents and skills. Donations are easy to give online, via Paypal or if you would like to work out any other method of supporting your local arts, please contact Marc directly via email

So I completed my todo list for the August art opening and everything went well. Here are some photos of the exhibition as it was hung.

Friday night, many familiar faces joined together to share an intimate evening of dance presented by members of Headwaters Dance Co. and The Open Field Artists. Dawn Hartman, Sarah Bortis, Kitty Sailer, Ann Campbell and Heidi Junkersfeld danced for an hour straight, and in the process nearly brought me and many others to tears. It was beautiful.

The evening began as a good friend greeted me at the door where she was taking tickets. She invited me to remove my shoes and find a seat on the cushions, which were arranged in a square around the room. Quiet evening sunlight melted into the room, and I noticed many people that I recognized. I found a seat and waited for the performance to begin.

Having seen The Open Field Artists before, but never having seen Headwaters Dance Co., I was not sure what to expect during the course of the evening. I had spoken with one of the dancers, Heidi, a few days before the show, and she told me that this piece is different than anything I had seen before. She was right.

Kaila June Gidley walked out onto the floor and began the night by welcoming us into the dance space where she spent so much of her time in Missoula. She smiled as she shared with us what the Missoula community means to her, and how happy and lucky she feels to have been a part of it. She spoke for about five minutes before telling us that her time to leave has come, and she wanted to share with us the beauty of the space in which we were all sitting. Kaila explained a little bit of what to expect from the piece, and then the dancers came out and began running around us along the perimeter where we sat. They dove and slid across the floor from different “doorways” in the seating arrangement.

As I watched, I was thinking, I don’t know anything about dance. I don’t know what it means. I decided, though, that “getting it” on an intellectual level isn’t important to me. I “get it” on a visual and an emotional level, I “get it” on a physical level, knowing how difficult it is for someone to move their body in those ways. Much like classical music, dance is not something for me to have to think about. I just need to soak it in and let it envelop me.

I couldn’t wrap my head around some of the concepts, like Butoh, which Heidi had told me about, and Kaila touched on explaining briefly as she spoke in the beginning. Butoh traditionally explores the “transmutation of the human body into other forms, such as smoke, dust, ghosts, and animals”, earth, water, fire, wind, sky, war. Granted, the performance was not true Butoh, but it used elements from the form to communicate to the audience. There were times during the performance where I actually had to remind myself to breathe, the piece was so intense, the way the dancers moved their bodies with each other, the amount of love and trust visible on the floor.

Towards the end of the performance, the five women stood in the center of the room and sang from Sinead O’Connor’s I Do Not Want What I Haven’t Got. As they sang, they would pause and dance, then fall into each other. You know the “Do you trust me? The let go, and I’ll catch you” game that we all played as children? It was much like that, but more intense. “Dawn, fall”, Heidi said, and Dawn fell into her and all four of the other women supported her, but moved her body around on theirs, passing her around and gently holding her as they moved. Each of the women fell in turn and the other four supported them.

I don’t know how to write about dance, really, but it was amazing, beautiful, emotional and intimate. I’ll leave you with some text from The Secret of the Vajra World by Reginald A. Ray that was included on the program that was distributed at the door:

and so it is

we see each other, and how?
I see myself, with what lens?

to negotiate circumstance,
the well of knowledge flows
making ancient electric fire.

when associations fall short,
when the program loses memory,
when the space thickens,
and language is lost,
what then?

I learn.
and
there you are.

whether you sit or stand,
if I kneel or lay,
our ground is the same.

the invitation is woven.
time’s golden thread
incessantly spins
a curiosity of potentials,

held close by forty hands….

When I first saw The OpenField Artists, I had not known what to expect when I walked into the warmth of The Strensrud to see some art, hear some music, and watch a performance. That’s all I knew. I was in for a treat when The OpenField Artists (OFA) previewed their MonkeyRiding Buddhas show. I returned to The Strensrud the following Friday to experience the full performance.

Walking into the space of The Strensrud, I immediately noticed a giant canvas covering one of the front windows. Scattered about on the ledge below the window were various artist’s tools, brushed, buckets, paint, glue. During the performance, I soon learned, “Johnny Art” would be creating a spontaneous painting that fed off of the energy of the performance, as well as the energy of the crowd, while at the same time telling his own story.

From the beginning, The OFA created a sense of community, building trust with their audience by including their audience in the performance. They accomplished this with an interactive piece in which four members of The OFA stood in the performance space. The person stage right selected a portion of the audience, claiming it, and instructed them to clap their hands along with her. The OFA to her right, the audience’s left, selected a portion of the audience, claiming it as his, and instructed them to stomp their feet. The OFA to shout HEY YO! The fourth OFA selected and claimed her section of audience and instructed them to shout TELL ME THE TRUTH. Everyone in the building was clapping their hands, stomping their feet and shouting. The effect was tremendous, causing those of us in the audience to feel a part of the performance, but, more importantly, to feel a part of each other. Now we were ready to listen, watch, learn, experience joy and sorrow, happiness and beauty.

And, over the course of the next few hours, we did experience many emotions. The performance was a testament to the power of art in people’s lives. The power of art, in its many incarnations, to bring people together and to empower them as recipients of art, and to empower the performers and artists at the same time.

The Welcoming Committee featured two of The OFA who welcomed a variety of seekers, convincing the seekers that they, The Welcoming Committee, had the solution to whatever problem the seekers had, when, in reality, it became clear that The Welcoming Committee were selling things with the same type of marketing found in AS SEEN ON TV ads. But the seekers always bought the snake oil. One person wanted to be an instructor, and was told that, Oh, yes, we have what you need. That course takes three days, one day for each level. But we’ll start you on the third day and charge you for all three. The rest of the skit went on in the same way, with the seekers being convinced that The Welcoming Committee had the answers for them, while truly, The Welcoming Committee was merely exploiting the needs of others for their own gain. The piece, as with all of the pieces in The MonkeyRiding Buddhas, worked because it exposed truths in all of us without being preachy.

The Welcoming Committee went away for a while, so that a beautiful waltz could be danced. The waltz was charged with the needing and wanting of two people (lovers?) who want to make a connection with one another, but their own internal struggles prevent them from breaking down their walls completely enough for a real connection to occur.

After the waltz a man lost on his way to the Ole’s gas station and convenience store brought back The Welcoming Committee, who would gladly give him directions for “a nominal fee”, which, if memory serves, was somewhere in the neighborhood of two thousand dollars. In this instance, our seeker hero walked away from The Welcoming Committee, showing us, subtly, that we can learn, and refuse the “help” of people who try to manipulate us in the guise of being helpful.

One of the successes of MonkeyRiding Buddhas was the breaking up of longer pieces, like The Welcoming Committee, with other works, like the waltz. This sort of presentation kept the audience’s attention, and also allowed the audience to process what they were experiencing, while continuing to take in more information and experiences. Accessible, straightforward pieces were couched between less accessible pieces, and no one in the audience ever felt completely lost. If they didn’t “get it”, they knew, because they trusted the performers, that they would be sufficiently led, and they would eventually get it, or at least find a work that they could wrap their heads around.

Let’s not forget the painting. It was almost as if the painting were not taking place, but as the show progressed, the painting began taking on a life of its own. It was beautiful.

Next was a contemporary dance piece, featuring the music of Tool and the very intense dancing of Naga Nataka and Abby Stevens. The struggling for connection in this piece mirrored the struggle in the earlier waltz, but was much more visceral and driven, almost violent. It was beautiful and exhausting to watch. Some of the words that I scribbled while watching: sex, relation-slips, power, struggle, individuality, self, losing of the self in another.

Heidi Junkersfeld’s performance of spoken word piece written by Nataka was chilling. The piece itself is chilling. A woman paces the stage while speaking a soliloquy peppered with familiar landmarks in Missoula, familiar stereotypes, familiar hopes and fears. The entire time she’s speaking, she is dragging on the ground a dead body draped in an American Flag. Sax/ violin set a somber mood

“I drink whiskey and smoke cigarettes because it’s easier,” she confesses. And one can see that she is not proud of this fact, she wants to be a better person than she is, as we all do. So she goes on to tell us about her yoga practice and some of the other things that make her whole. And she gets defensive.

“You have to be able to DEFEND yourself.”

She speaks these words loudly, and in her face, we can see that sometimes she doesn’t believe them. She’s trying to talk herself into believing the words she speaks, for we live in confusing times. She’s remembering the advice of her father, “Honey, you gotta be able to back yourself up in any conversation, you have to be able to…”

Defend yourself.

“It’s a good thing I know so much,” she says, trying to convince us, trying to convince herself, the way many of us do in the same fashion. The piece takes us all to task, holding a mirror up to us, but does so in a gentle way, without judgment or chastisement.

After the dancing and performance art finished, we were treated to some beautiful singing by Lee Macafee and Heidi.

I’m sure I’m forgetting some things here, but this is what I was able to slap together from my scribbled notes. I’ll stop by again tomorrow to talk more about The Open Field Artists, who will be performing this First Friday at The Loft.

Jonestown: The Life and Death of Peoples Temple - The rise and fall of Jim Jones and The People’s Temple. I was only seven years old when Jonestown happened. This film told the story I was too young to remember with grace through interviews with surviving members of People’s Temple, voice recordings of Jones himself, family members of victims, and old film footage. An important piece of American history captured painfully well on film.

Kobe - “Kobe is a composition of images and sound. With neither narration nor interviews, the film explores the daily tasks and pleasures at a Japanese seaport.” A beautiful piece of visual poetry reminiscent of Baraka. If you liked Baraka, you’ll enjoy Kobe.

A Short History of Sweet Potato Pie - “Residents at the St. Mary’s Court Retirement Community in Washington D.C. agree that nothing is better than Pearl Mallory’s sweet potato pie. Hailing from rural Virginia, Pearl is one of eight children born of the sons and daughters of slaves. Now, at the age of 82, Pearl has lived nearly her entire life in kitchens where she cooks for senior citizens. This tender and humorous portrait of Pearl and the aged residents reveals how simple things often contain the greatest meanings.“ This one was completely over my head. It’s going along, it’s going along, the story is in interesting one, and then, they throw a bunch of sweet potato pies off of a balcony and they smash in the street. Credits roll. What? Can anyone help me out here?

A Revolving Door - 33 year old Tommy Lennon struggles to deal with the dual diagnosis of mental illness and drug addiction. Tommy’s life and his family’s frustration, helplessness, courage and resilience are presented for us without judgement. The title of the film comes from the fact that Tommy is in and out of jail and mental hospitals. Directed by Marilyn Braverman, winner, Best Short.

WWasted Orient - A Beijing rock band embarks on its first nationwide tour as the artists wrestle with life in a transitional society. This was supposed to be some great social commentary on the subculture of a changing China. Instead, it was a noisy tour film that we’ve all seen before. Whiny self-obsessed unemployed rockers drink too much and rock out. Clocking in at 90 minutes, this one could benefited by some brutal editing, cutting it down to somewhere around 20 minutes or so. The point that the director attempted to make, that all of China is not headed towards prosperity and hope was never fully realized.

Chairman George - A Greek-Canadian travels from Ottawa to China ins a quest to play music at the closing ceremonies of the Athens Olympic Games. Pretty good film that told an interesting story well. George played live music after the movie at the Wilma, and was a pretty cool guy.

Seeds - A poor Polish/Russian family lives in a hut on the edges of the community that has rejected them for some unknown reason. Very dark film. Stark. Very moving. Soundtrack by Phillip Glass.

Ha Ha Ha America - “In the filmmaker’s words, it is ‘a love letter from China to America thanking us, and the current administration, for all the business.’ ” This was one of my favorite films in the festival. It humorously examined what is for Americans a painful truth: We are viewed as lazy slovenly hillbillies by the rest of the world, and the rest of the world, specifically China, is raking in the cash because of it. In the words of the film, Americans “suck ass”. You can see the trailer for the film here, and download the soundtrack for free here. Winner, Best MiniDoc. Directed by JD Ligon.

Plan F - Ed Marko lost his sight to a degenerative eye disease at age 20 and becomes a much sought-after auto mechanic. The film shows Ed in his shop working on cars as an old man near Columbus, Ohio. The texture of the film is dirty, and somewhat grainy, intended to mimic Ed’s blindness. Ed’s a likable guy, and the film tells his story well.

The Days and the Hours - “Every morning in downtown San Francisco, homeless people arrive at a church to sleep in the pews. Filling row after row, more than a hundred exhausted men and women find refuge from city streets and shelters. We hear them describe their lives before they lost what most people take for granted. The Days and the Hours is a documentary meditation on the thin line that separates homeless people from everyone else.” An interesting story that makes one gratful for what he has. Powerful film that told its story in a very short amount of time.

Salvation Mountain - Leonard Knight builds a mountain in Slab City, California to prove his love to God. Good movie, especially since it deals with what looks to be a crazy man, but the film never passes judgement on Knight. Winner, Big Sky Award. Directed by Travis Peterson.

American Blackout - Directed by the Guerrilla News Network’s Ian Inaba, American Blackout explores the shutout of blacks during the 2000 and 2004 elections through the efforts of Georgia Congresswoman Cynthia McKinney . Though this is a GNN production, it is for the most part unbiased. A great film, one that should viewed by all Americans. The website has a trailer of the film, and ways for you to get involved.

No Umbrella - Fannie Lewis, a councilperson in one of the poorest neighborhoods in the country, in Cleveland, Ohio, works tirelessly to get more voting machines and inserts on election day as blacks stand in line for upwards of two hours waiting to exercise their right to vote. Another great film that all Americans should watch.

The Colour of Olives - A Muslim family refuses to move their home when the wall goes up in the West Bank. They are then cut off from their farmland by the wall, and must rely on the soldiers to let them in and out of the gate in order to tend their farm, go to school, and all other activities outside their home. A very personal look at the very complex conflict that continues to rage in the West Bank. Winner, Artistic Vision Award. Directed by Carolina Rivas.

THE CATS OF MIRIKITANI - “Eighty-year-old Jimmy Mirikitani survived the trauma of WWII internment camps, Hiroshima, and homelessness by creating art. But when 9/11 threatens his life on the New York City streets and a local filmmaker brings him to her home, the two embark on a journey to confront Jimmy’s painful past.” Unfortunately, I caught only the last ten minutes or so of this film. What I did see of it was very good, focusing mainly on Mirkitani’s personal life and his relationship with he director, who says she never intended to film this movie, but her subject chose her. I hope I have the opportunity to see it in its entirety.

An Unreasonable Man - The history of Ralph Nader’s public life. Did you know that it is because of Nader that we have things like seatbelts and airbags in automobiles? Or OSHA? I didn’t. This movie tells the story of his rise to popularity in the ’60s and ’70s and his decline in the ’80s. It’s a compelling story and told well. Left feeling pretty discouraged about the American political system, though. As one woman said as we walked out of the theater, “Where do we direct our energies if we are going to make a difference?”

Who Gets to Call it Art? - The world of the 1960’s New York art scene as seen through the eyes of former Met and MOMA curator Henry Geldzahler. Includes never-before-seen footage of Warhol, Jasper Johns and Lichtenstein. Told mainly through interviews with Frank Stella, David Hockney, and James Rosenquist, the film explores one of the most fertile periods of American Art. Very well told story about some of my favorite artists. Of course I loved this one.

While you’re waiting to hear about more of the films I watch, head over to New West and read the
interview with “Montana Meth” director Eames Yates.

Technorati Tags: documentary film missoula montana bigskydocumentaryfilmfestival volunteer

Click to see a larger image.

The Big Sky Documentary Film Festival has arrived in Missoula again this year. There are so many films I’d like to see, but with a limited budget, I can’t afford to see all of the films on the agenda. One way that I’ll be able to see many of the films is by volunteering at the festival. Thursday, I volunteered for a little over six hours. During the volunteer time, it is permissible for volunteers to sit in on films during our shifts, if we have a few minutes between duties when we don’t have passes to the films being shown. This is great on some levels, but frustrating on others because we never are able to see a complete film in this way.

However, by volunteering, we earn passes to see films when we are not working. Below are a list of some of the films I was able to see thus far, either in part or in their entirety, and some quick impressions of them.

First Lesson in Peace - A Jewish father films his six year old daughter as she attends an integrated Arab-Jewish primary school in Israel. A compelling movie which shows how deeply rooted the Arab-Jewish conflict really is. Takes complex issues and breaks them down so that even children can understand. (Viewed only part of film.)

Who the F**# is Jackson Pollack - A seventy three year old retired woman truck driver buys “an ugly painting” at a thrift shop for $5. The painting may be a Pollack, she learns. She doesn’t know who Pollack was, but works to prove that the painting is genuine so that she can sell it for millions. The film was a good one, but at seventy-four minutes, ran longer than it could have. The story would have been more effectively told in fifty minutes.

Montana Meth - Made in coordination with the Montana Meth Project, this film will be shown on HBO as part of its “Addiction” series. Montana ranks second in the nation for methamphetamine abuse in the nation. The story of meth in Montana is effectively told by the addicts themselves in an amount of time longer than the thirty second soundbites heard on the radio or seen on television.

The film also illustrates the efforts of law enforcement’s attempts to deal with the meth problem in Montana. This is a story that needs to be told, although the dramatic use of music was slightly overbearing. Remembering that the film is intended to be a part of a larger HBO series on addiction, this one fault is forgivable.

Silver Spurs - A man obsessed with the “Old West” opens a home for the mentally disabled and gives it an Old Western theme. A story about patients in an institution is given a twist with the added Old West theme. The patients’ stories are interesting ones, as is the story of the proprietor and his family, but this film also suffers from lack of editing. At eighty-five minutes, I was looking for somewhere closer to between sixty and seventy minutes. Silver Spurs had not been previously viewed publicly in any venue. It screened without press coverage and is not part of the competition. Hopefully, it is unfinished and will later be further edited.

Saddam Hussein: The Trial - The story of Hussein’s trial from before the trial occurred until after it ended as told by a French director. The trial is made out to be a sham that was more for show than justice and fairness. An excellent film which adds to one’s understanding of the current situation in Iraq.

The War Tapes - National Guardsmen from Charlie Company, 3rd of the 172nd Infantry (MOUNTAIN) Regiment, spend a year in Iraq and film their lives. Powerful film which was at times difficult to watch. A must see for all Americans to better understand the war and how it affects soldiers and soldiers’ families.

FUCK - From the same folks who brought us Awesome — I Fuckin’ Shot That, the Beastie Boys concert documentary, comes FUCK, a story about the origins of the word itself and a study about how the word is currently used and viewed in our society. Told in part via man-on-the-street interviews, animated shorts, and interviews with people in the media industry/music industry/comedy industry, FUCK was humorous and well-paced. Could have been more effective as a documentary if it was a little lighter on the celebrity views and a little more focused on the common man. Overall, a good movie.

The Forrest for the Trees - The story of the bombing of Judi Bari, her survival, and her 12+ year struggle to clear her name as having bombed herself. After the bombing, she, and by association EarthFirst!, was viewed as terrorists. Before viewing the film, I knew only vaguely of EarthFirst! and their history. I, like many of you probably do, viewed them as wacko environmentalists who use terrorist tactics to get their way. This is, as the film portrays, simply not true. Excellent movie which tells a story worth telling in a succinct and compelling way.

How is it with Phooie - A man in his mid thirties explores his relationship with his record and film collecting father, and, by extension, his role as a father to his daughter. The reason for the story about the director’s daughter was not immediately apparent. It seems that the director has a choice to make: Is this movie about his relationship with his father? Is this movie about the relationship with his daughter? Is this movie about the process of discovering himself as a father by exploring his relationship with his own father? How it is with Phooey had not been previously viewed publicly in any venue. It screened without press coverage and is not part of the competition. The director was present for the screening and has already said he is considering revisiting the film. I found watching the process fascinating, and did not mind the slight confusion.

Trans - Told from the perspective of a passenger aboard the Trans-Siberian Express railroad. This film has no dialogue and is a good meditation on travel, specifically on this particular train.

…And Then There Were Four - A seventy-seven year old raises four of her grandsons, ages five through eight, whose parents have been unable to care for them. Heartwarming movie that shows the hardships of being a primary caregiver for unruly kids when the deadbeat parents can’t get it together.

Yellow Ox Mountain - Two Chinese artists show how The Cultural Revolution helped shape their work. Excellent movie which sheds light on two individuals’ creative process.

The Giving - “…chronicles the difficult journeys of five women from the time they learn of their pregnancies to the signing of adoption papers.” Each woman very gracefully and bravely shares her story. Very well told by the women and by the director. Excellent film.

John Dendy’s first release, I Got Lucky is a desperate, tragic beautiful and heartfelt collection of eleven songs spanning over eight years of songwriting. Taken as a whole, they are a soundtrack to a wandering soul in search of his own truth on a desolate landscape of heartache, confusion, yearning and hope. All good art extrapolates an inner truth, or a search for it, and with I Got Lucky Dendy succeeds in carving a definitive path through the darkness of abandoned empty roads followed on late night drives, of loud bars where quiet conversations bring redemption and on porches on the summer where friends gather to play music and knock back a few PBRs.Dendy grew up in the South and moved to Montana in the mid 1990s. His education and intelligence betray themselves in his well rendered lyrics which never come off as trite or contrived. Imagine Springsteen’s Greetings done in the style of The Ghost of Tom Joad with a healthy dose of whiskey sung in a roadhouse somewhere into which you stumbled after a long day of driving across the Dakotas in the heat of summer and you might have an idea of how I Got Lucky sounds. You don’t need to imagine, though, because you can hear samples of the songs which appear on the disc over at John’s website. Explore the site a little, then click BUY MY CD to listen to clips. You’ll be taken to the CD BABY page where the clips are available in MP3 streams and where you can get the disc.

It’s the first CD I’ve bought in a long time, having migrated my listening habits mostly to digital because of the radio show I do over at KBGA. It’s a $15 well spent, and I have been listening to the album for two solid straight days. The flow of the songs from one into the next is well thought-out, and illustrates the care that went into selecting the songs that appear on the album, as well as the order in which they appear.

The disc opens with a bluegrass infused “Where are You?”. After the bleak Never Was Golden, which includes the brilliant metaphor of a “hazelnut heart”, we get Tattoo, whose lyrics are one-liner after another through the better part of the song (I can’t give away the punchline, sorry), and then the very short “Communist Party”, a playful song whose social commentary won’t be lost on most listeners. Dendy then lays down Gardiner River Bridge, an ill-named(?) song that remembers walking across the bridge over the Yellowstone River in Gardiner, Montana, thinking about lost love. He’s smart enough not to dwell in self-pity, and pokes fun at the emo kids with the driving bluegrass tinged Restless. You can almost hear the laughter and the clanking of empty beer bottles on the porch on this one. With “Men”, Dendy pays tribute to some of his close friends and what makes them strong human beings before taking a country-western turn with “Just Because”, a favorite. “Stupid to Them” nods back to “Men” with its message about the importance of being true to oneself, which Dendy questions on Selling Myself. The album closes with a hard song that features one of my favorite lyrics I’ve ever heard Dendy sing, “…the only part of me that’s still grieving/is you”. Nobody Home is a kick in the gut because of its honesty and rawness.

The danger with songs of this intensity is that the singer might fall into the depths of self-loathing and depression that make for the bad emo-band poetry written with black ink on black paper in the darkness of one’s mid-western suburban basement. Instead, Dendy sings with self-confidence and honesty that is missing from much of the mainstream music being released today.

BUY THE ALBUM

You can also pick up the album by catching John play out. He’s scheduled to play some Montana shows. If you get a chance to check him out and you live in Helena, Bozeman or Livingston, you can see John play. All shows are free:

Saturday, January 21st, 2006 9:00 PM MST
Helena CD Release
Windbag Saloon
Last Chance Gulch

Thursday, February 16th, 2006 7:30 PM MST
Leaf & Bean - Bozeman
Main Street

Bozeman friends. Come give a listen and check out my new CD.
Friday, February 17th, 2006 7:00 PM MST
Chadz - Livingston

Friday, March 31st, 2006 8:00 PM MST
leaf & bean - Bozeman
Main Street

Saw Kool Keith at the Elks Lodge last night. Yeah. Kool Keith in Missoula, Montana. It was quite surreal. Also on the bill were Ambidext, R. Biz, Verbal Threat and the F.I.L.T.H.E.E. IMMIGRANTS. It was a good show, not many attendants, though. Maybe 300 people?

Keith handed out thongs to the ladies, porn for the guys, and a variety of other things throughout the night. Now I have Blue Flowers stuck in my head.

They had a kid who looked to be pretty young behind the turntables, but he held his own.

And, of course Kool Keith himself was in fine form. Then again, I wasn’t feeling critical, I just came to have a good time. And I did.

The Angry Mullet Bouncer Guy was a riot.