The Invention and Reinvention of Man Ray: "All New York Is Dada"

Above, Man Ray in a "Rayograph" Self Portrait. The current "Alias Man Ray" show at the Jewish Museum explores Man Ray's life, work, and the millieu in which he fabricated his identity as an artist and perenniel outsider.


Salvador Dali, left, and Ray in Paris in a photo by Carl Van Vechten, June 16, 1934.

Man Ray in a letter to Tristan Tzara: "Dada cannot live in New York. All New York is dada, and will not tolerate a rival.”

Man Ray (Emmanuel Radnitzky) was an American born painter, sculptor, photographer and dadaist (August 27, 1890 – November 18, 1976). He spent most of his career in Paris, France. Perhaps best described simply as a modernist, he was a significant contributor to both the Dada and Surrealist movements, although his ties to each were informal. Best known in the art world for his avant-garde photography, Man Ray produced major works in a variety of media and considered himself a painter above all. He was also a renowned fashion and portrait photographer. He is noted for his photograms, which he renamed "rayographs" after himself.

While appreciation for Man Ray's work beyond his fashion and portrait photography was slow in coming during his lifetime, especially in his native United States, his reputation has grown steadily in the decades since.

The current "Alias Man Ray" show at the Jewish Museum explores Man Ray's life, work, and the millieu in which he fabricated his identity as an artist and perenniel outsider. In 1999, ARTnews magazine named him one of the 25 most influential artists of the 20th century, citing his groundbreaking photography as well as "his explorations of film, painting, sculpture, collage, assemblage, and prototypes of what would eventually be called performance art and conceptual art" and saying "Man Ray offered artists in all media an example of a creative intelligence that, in its 'pursuit of pleasure and liberty,'"—Man Ray's stated guiding principles—"unlocked every door it came to and walked freely where it would."[

From Wikipedia: From the time he began attracting attention as an artist until his death more than sixty years later, Man Ray allowed little of his early life or family background to be known to the public, even refusing to acknowledge that he ever had a name other than Man Ray.

Man Ray was born Emmanuel Radnitzky in South Philadelphia, Pennsylvania in 1890, the eldest child of recent Russian-Jewish immigrants. The family would eventually include another son and two daughters, the youngest born shortly after they settled in the Williamsburg section of Brooklyn, New York, in 1897. In early 1912, the Radnitzky family changed their surname to Ray, a name selected by Man Ray's brother, in reaction to the ethnic discrimination and anti-Semitism prevalent at that time. Emmanuel, who was called "Manny" as a nickname, changed his first name to Man at this time, and gradually began to use Man Ray as his combined single name.

Man Ray's father was a garment factory worker who also ran a small tailoring business out of the family home, enlisting his children from an early age. Man Ray's mother enjoyed making the family's clothes from her own designs and inventing patchwork items from scraps of fabric.Despite Man Ray's desire to disassociate himself from his family background, this experience left an enduring mark on his art. Tailor's dummies, flat irons, sewing machines, needles, pins, threads, swatches of fabric, and other items related to clothing and sewing appear at every stage of his work and in almost every medium. Art historians have also noted similarity in his collage and painting techniques to those used in making clothing.

More on Man Ray here.

The excellent exhibit at the Jewish Museum here.

Zero Hour: Brochu Shines as Painter/Actor/Comic Zero Mostel

Jim Brochu as Sam "Zero" ("Zee" to his friends) Mostel

"Zero Hour" at the Theater at Saint Clements

With the recent hegemony of Mel Brooks' film-to-Broadway comedy classics, it is ironic and perhaps unfortunate that the role for which Zero Mostel is most remembered by many, "Max Bialystock" in Brooks' 1968 film, The Producers, was a role that he hated. This and many other stories emerge from the fascinating life of Sam "Zero" Mostel ("Zee" to his friends) as brilliantly portrayed by Jim Brochu in his passionate and very funny play, "Zero Hour."

Initially living in the Brownsville section of Brooklyn, the family moved to Moodus, Connecticut, where they bought a farm, later returning to the Lower East Side. As a child,Mostel's mother would dress him in a velvet suit,sending him to the Metropolitan Museum of Art to copy masterpieces. Zero had a favorite painting, John White Alexander’s Study for Woman in Black and Green, which he copied every day, to the delight of the gallery crowds. One afternoon, while a crowd was watching over his velvet-clad shoulder, he solemnly copied the whole painting upside down, delighting his audience. Later, studying art, he began to lecture -- often humorously -- about art, which later turned into a nightclub, theater and film career.

Jim Brochu's play, directed by Piper Laurie, brings the joys, passions and often withering, sarcastic wit of Mostel alive. Although Mostel clearly loved to perform, as he did in works as diverse as Tevye in "Fiddler on the Roof," "Ulysses in Nighttown," "Funny Thing Happened on the Way to the Forum," Ionesco's "Rhinoceros," and in numerous films, including "The Hot Rock" ("Afghanistan, Banana Stand!") filmed in Brooklyn, and his lamented appearance in "The Producers" he was at heart, as the play depicts, a dedicated and serious painter, who periodically needed to seclude himself in his studio on West 28th street (the setting for the play) and get paint on his hands.

Still, Mostel's many triumphs and high profile in the performing arts, brought him, as it did many other artists and writers, including many of his friends, to the attention of Senator Joseph McCarthy and the House Un-American Activities Committee, as they scrutinized the youthful radicalism of some of America's most talented people, destroying many careers--and lives--in the process. The HUAC hearings are receding in history, but with the expiration of the Patriot Act later this year, it is a reminder, that even in times of national crisis, as the Cold War represented, and as the threat of terror suggests today, eternal vigilance is required to protect civil liberties. However, Mostel, as depicted here with great power and comic effect by Mr. Brochu, stood up to the Committee, refusing to name names for the sake of his career, and even sparring with and challenging the committee with great humor. Some excerpts from Mostel's actual appearance before HUAC will give you a flavor. Mr. Brochu, in "Zero Hour" explores this part of Mostel's life in depth.

In the course of an interview with an unseen NY Times reporter, Jim Brochu explores this and many other stories from his life, in the process celebrating "Zero," sometimes tenderly, sometimes ferociously, but always with great warmth, humor and charm.

Through January 31, 2010. Information here.

"Complaint-Free Wednesday" Before Thanksgiving: Highs, Lows and Somewhere In-Between

Well, clearly Giving Thanks on the last Thursday in November may not be enough. A Congressman has proposed legislation making the Wednesday before Thanksgiving a complaint free day, noting that chronic complaining impacts health, wealth, career advancement and, I would add, the "Pursuit of Happiness." See the link with full story here.

Along with the report on the recently unveiled "Optimism" Metrocard in today's NY Times,the work of artist Reid Seifer, it may in fact be the time to hitch up one's britches, and those who can do, and if you got 'em, smoke 'em (herbal of course) and move forward with optimism, vision and, to borrow a former Presidential slogan, "Hope." OK, Wall Street screwed up, we made some bad judgements, economically speaking, what we thought was beneficial under President Bush, in terms of cheap money and low interest rates, may have in fact not been so groovy. And our best creditors, the Chinese, are now looking at us a bit crookedly, as my late Dad would say. Are we now like Robert DeNiro as "Johnny Boy" in Mean Streets, telling Michael the loan shark (Richard Romanus) that he only goes to him to borrow because nobody else in the neighborhood will loan him money, and he knows that he can keep borrowing without having the loan called in? Of course, in Mean Streets, there is an unhappy ending. One hopes, that America pulls itself out of this economic maelstrom, despite Nouriel Roubini's predictions of continued downturn vis-a-vis continued unemployment. Perhaps Harvard Business guru Michael Porter's prescription on "Why America Needs an Economic Strategy" has some profound insights to offer.

But for the time being, maybe a bit of optimism, hope, pragmatic and visionary thinking, as opposed to glooming and dooming, couldn't hurt, and may even help.

But of course, right on the heels of "Complaint-Free Wednesday" and "Thanksgiving Thursday," comes the ill-named Black Friday, with its holiday-shopping lunacy, stampedes for flat-screen TVs, and Xbox360s, etc. So, while, sadly, consumption and shopping are what this country needs in the long run, for the short term, when it comes to the day after Thanksgiving or using the old charge card, better be careful out there...

Sorry to end the week on a queasy note. In the words of the late Allen Ginsberg:

It occurs to me that I am America./
I am talking to myself again.
--from "America" by Allen Ginsberg
from America by Allen Ginsberg or quick reference here.

Windy Day on the Brooklyn Bridge

Photo by TN

New York Yankees XXVII World Series Title

Election 2009

Let's guesstimate $90,000,000 spent on the campaign divided by 557,059 votes won. $161a vote. Guess Mayor Mike got off cheap.
Local election results via NY Post

GOP sweeps in NJ and Va via Drudge and Yahoo

Washington Post Profile of Brooklyn's Patrick Gaspard, WH Political Director

The Washington Post did a profile yesterday of Brooklyn's Patrick Gaspard, currently White House Political Director for the host of heavy hitters like Rahm Emmanuel, David Axelrod and others who surround the Decision-Maker in Chief, President Obama.

The article notes that Mr. Gaspard, a writer of poetry and reader of Russian literature, is persevering in an impossible role based on his ability to maintain "an even temper and dry wit that have earned him the admiration of peers in Obama's inner circle."

Rather than follow the wide-reaching model of some of his predecessors -- Ken Mehlman, who would go on to chair the Republican National Committee, had the job early in the Bush administration, running the administration's politics alongside Karl Rove -- Gaspard has gone the opposite route, rarely giving media interviews, looking for substantive policy openings where the political office can be helpful and closely coordinating with the rest of the in-house experts.

"The political director, I think, really focuses as a coordinator for all these strong personalities," said [Jim] MessinaRather than follow the wide-reaching model of some of his predecessors -- Ken Mehlman, who would go on to chair the Republican National Committee, had the job early in the Bush administration, running the administration's politics alongside Karl Rove -- Gaspard has gone the opposite route, rarely giving media interviews, looking for substantive policy openings where the political office can be helpful and closely coordinating with the rest of the in-house experts.

"The political director, I think, really focuses as a coordinator for all these strong personalities," said [Jim] Messina, (Deputy WH Chief of Staff) who is inarguably one of those strong personalities. "Patrick has a personality that is such that everyone likes him and respects him. He's one of the most grounded people I've ever met."

An interesting article on the structure and politics of 44's inner circle. By the way, don't forget to vote.

Washington Post article here

Burning Daylight

Missing being witness to the end of night and
first glimpse of sunlight on the horizon.
With the changing hour this weekend,
now moving directly into day;
At this hour, morning darkness no longer drifts away
into indigo, azure and deep purples, with the crevice of night filling with a fine gold filigree. Just the crash of daylight and
a sense of already running behind.
Too early for darkness, and if I have to get up any earlier,
Too damn early for poetry
--Brooklyn Beat

The Real Story of This NYC Election Season

Photo Via

A couple of years ago I was emailed by someone identifying himself as a former NY1reporter who had left the station for allegedly making a fake phone call to "The Call," one of its programs. In his own defense, the caller had tossed around a number of anonymous gossip tidbits about other station staff. Nothing, that I recall, reflected negatively on NY1's former chief political reporter, Mr. Dominic Carter; in fact, he appeared to refer to Mr. Carter as the station's Best Reporter.

And that, too, was always my take. When I saw Dominic Carter at the first Mayoral Debate recently, he was just so professional onstage and personable in speaking with the audience, that you had to love the guy. He had just the right chemistry as the debate moderator, just as he had balancing the amusing journalistic hysteria of Gerson Borrero and Curtis Sliwa on the weekly "Political Rundown." I thought it strange recently that Mr. Borrero had become so incensed at some of Mr. Sliwa's on-camera silliness that Mr. Borrero stood and seemed to be physically challenging Mr. Sliwa to step outside and settle it.

That thought and image stayed with me, so it was absolutely bizarre when the NY Post broke the story about Dominic Carter's (to put it mildly) messy and apparently violent personal life. It is beyond a case of simple jurisprudence at this point. Like a figure from some Philip K. Dick novel, Dominic Carter has gone from speaking out, in what seemed most bizarre, against domestic violence in interview segments, to waking from some dream from which he cannot escape, and being accused of beating his wife by his wife, lying about it, trying to use his celebrity and political influence and contacts as a journalist, to escape the charges. The end runs that he and his wife have attempted to make around the resulting arrest and physical signs of domestic violence seemed to have gone from bathos to pathos and back again. One can feel sympathy for his wife, the apparent victim despite her disavowal, and disgust, pity and shock at the behavior of Mr. Carter.

Not everyone liked Dominic Carter. But he and his reporting provided a great inside look at politicians and players in NYC, and a he became a very prominent African American voice in NYC's political media. His recent book, No Momma's By, seemed, on the surface, a courageous effort at autobiography.The recent apotheosis of Mr. Carter and now his fall from grace, reflect a sad page in NY's media history. Although their stories, and denouement, are markedly different, I can only think of the analogous loss on the national level with the unexpected death of NBC journalist Tim Russert in the month's leading up to the Obama-McCain election and the selection of the first African American President. This writer will miss Mr. Carter's solid, if at times conservative, overly-judgmental and self-satisfied presence on NY1, on this and future election nights, and in the post-election period as we see what the "next" Mayor brings. The role of money and entrenched power in this imbalanced election is so profound,the election itself seems besides the point. That is why Mr. Carter seems to cast a large shadow in his absence, just as he did as a reporter on NY1. Whatever the exact truth, his life and his career are a mess and in a tail spin. Perhaps there is a message, cast in that long shadow, about ethics, truth and rightful behavior, by those in all walks of public life, who wield influence and power, mayors, elected officials, news anchors. Or tv talk show hosts.


However, while Mr Carter, in his book, seemed to offer to put it all on the table -- about his life in the projects, growing up in a dysfunctional family and how he overcame those odds -- in fact, he remained a mystery to his audience, to the folks that he interviewed, and worst of all, to himself. One can only hope that his wife, his family and of course Mr. Carter can recover, overcome, grow and find a suitable Second Act in their lives.

--Brooklyn Beat

Autumn in Brooklyn

East 17th Street in Brooklyn. Photo by TN.

The Day of the Dead is celebrated on November 1 ("All Saints Day") and November 2 ("All Souls Day"). More here

Celebrating Life: Autumn's Changing Ways

Traditional "Dia De Los Muertos"figures.


'Alloween in Flatbush. October 31, 2009. Photo by TN

Autumn's changing ways. "Seasons change with the scenery." Delights of summer and early fall slip away, replaced by the early colors, crimson, gold and ash, until finally a withering away. Verdant bloom replaced by bare limbs. Halloween, and dia de los muertos celebrated in the Latin world, are reminders of the fleeting, temporary nature of life, all life. Temporal existence, bold and ecstatic, replaced by memories and nostalgia for what has gone before.
-Brooklyn Beat

Dylan & Sting Go to the Mattresses: You Go Your Way and I'll Go Mine

Back in the day, oh, say about a year ago, when I was still shlepping my younger teenage daughters to middle school, there was a Fixed Rule of Conduct in the car: No fighting and no Christmas music until after Halloween at the earliest. Once they were back in school for the year, as soon as the first chilly days of autumn, no matter how early in October they occurred, someone would trot out the Rat Pack Christmas album, and we would start grooving to Dean, Frank, Sammy and company singing Winter Wonderland or some such. Well, the November 1 rule changed all of that.

Still, I guess there is something about the passing of the harvest moon, when the leaves turn crimson and gold, that makes you want to reach out for the hot cocoa and cool scarf and the Rat Pack Christmas album. Since your teenage (and older) children are the first to call you on adult hypocrisy, I have been eagerly clutching my copy the Bob Dylan Christmas of the Heart album, ready to give it a listen this weekend. I also noted that Sting likewise has a Christmas album out as well, “..If on a Winter’s Night” that I am also looking forward to giving a spin.

In the meantime, the release of the Dylan and Sting Christmas albums are generating a little action and – since it is the music biz—competition, as evidenced in this review from the interesting and enjoyably written cultural blog, “Things I’d Rather Be Doing” via Expecting Rain:

“Even those of us who cringe at any bit of treacle in our music can at least tolerate a bit of goodwill and cheer (and sappiness) when it comes to Christmas music. Sting takes the opposite tack, however, offering the perfect soundtrack for the ascetic atheist winter carnival of one. It is at times beautiful, but it doesn't seem to have a place.

Bob Dylan's Christmas in the Heart, meanwhile, is the sign of an artist who gets it. No one expected this from Dylan, of course, particularly given the creative hot streak he has been on over the past decade-plus. But, like Sting, Dylan is one who seems to revel in subverting expectations…”

G-d bless us, Every One!

--Brooklyn Beat

"Cool it, Reba!": Soupy Sales & The Gang - In Memoriam

Above, Soupy Sales (Milton Supman)


Above, Soupy Sales and 'White Fang', on camera


Above, Soupy Sales and Clyde Adler as White Fang.

Growing up in NY as a child in the late 50s and 60s, there were lots of TV shows on the local channels (5-WNEW, 9-WOR, and 11-WPIX)that were somewhat "heimish" and funky, in the sense of feeling like they were produced on a relative shoe string. The early days of TV that felt, like maybe back over the last couple of decades, the earlier days of the Internet. Unpolished, but perhaps even more zany and creative because of the low budget, local TV production.

I would include "Officer" Joe Bolton, Sonny Fox and Wonderama, Chuck McCann, and, of course, Soupy Sales. Especially with Soupy Sales, even as a kid, you sensed that you were watching something makeshift and very creative, with a lot of sarcastic adult-type humor bandied about. The articulately inarticulate White Fang, Black Tooth, Pookie the Lion and Hobart and Reba ("Cool it, Reba!"), the heads in the pot-bellied stove, private eye Philo Kvetch, and the “nut at the door,” who always interrupted whatever was going on. Soupy Sales was out-of-control and outrageous, a ready source of laughs for kids in a completely different cultural era. His famous incident where, rankled by having to do a live show on New Years Day, he asked young viewers to go into parents' wallets and send in those funny green pictures of the presidents, netted him a suspension, an FCC warning, pickets in support of him, and at the same time, cemented Mr. Sales' TV legacy.

Soupy Sales passed away at Calgary Hospital in the Bronx at age 83. I saw him at a Comic Convention about a year ago in Manhattan, wheelchair bound, but still Soupy.

Mr. Sales is survived by his wife, Trudy, and his two sons, Tony and Hunt, who performed with David Bowie and, if I am not mistaken, Iggy Pop.

NY Times Obit [Link here]

There's Roots and There's "Roots": Jack White Opines on Who's Got More Musical Authenticity-- Dylan, Waits or Britney Spears?

As linked in "Expecting Rain," a report on Jack White (The Dead Weather, White Stripes)receiving an honorary award from Dublin's Trinity College's University Philosophical Society.

It seems to have been a very interesting night for Mr. White, and not just the award. The multi-faceted musician, currently focusing his energy on his new band The Dead Weather, received and honorary patronage award from Trinity College's University Philosophical Society. At his acceptance ceremony, the singer/guitarist/drummer gave an impromptu lecture focusing on his musical beliefs, among other things. White's lecture is gaining attention for an interesting statement he made about musical authenticity, evoking Tom Waits and Bob Dylan in the same breath as Britney Spears.

White stated, "I don't know if Tom Waits and Bob Dylan are as authentic as I think they are. Perhaps they're not." The highlight of his observation was: "Sometimes you start thinking that maybe Britney Spears or someone like that who's doing exactly what they want to do in the way that they best know how, is more authentic than any of those people you could mention."

The full article from New Times Phoenix here.

This is an interesting question. Recently, I got a copy of the Best of the Royals and The Midnighters featuring Hank Ballard. A great tune is Ballard's "Tore Up Over You." I always have thought of Jerry Garcia's great great version of this as "Tore Up" but after getting into Hank Ballard's rendition, there is that sense of "The Real" and the "(Great but) Cover" version. Funny how "Roots" music today has taken on new meaning since it has more to do with delving into existing forms and musical catalogs. But, for that matter, "The Beatles" and "The Band" (like Dylan, perhaps) were playing music based on existing musical forms, but in doing so, they seemed to create something brand new and totally different. But not as "authentic" as the original blues, country, and R & B musicians, that they took from. Dylan has always adapted from other styles and artists (even writers), and as influential as he is as a songwriter and artist, I doubt that he would put himself on the same page as "Woody" or any of the bluesmen that influenced him. In that sense, I'm not so sure about Jack's example. Therefore, if there is nothing new under the sun (to quote the Bard), maybe Britney is playing something "real" and "unique" and "original" to the best of her ability, but if that could serve as a good definition of "Art" does it make it "authentic" ? Does it even matter ? Further, to borrow from Walter Benjamin,in the age of Mechanical (and Electronic) Reproduction, what musician has not been influenced by, and consequently built upon, earlier forms, styles, and musicians?

Jack White raises a very thoughtful and intriguing philosophical question, not sure if it can be answered.

--Brooklyn Beat