Eternity and a Day

Upon a friend's recommendation, I rented Eternity and a Day, a 1998 film by Theo Angelopoulos. The film, which is in Greek, with English subtitles deals mainly with the philosophical theme of time and aging, as the name suggests.

Alexander, a reclusive writer, who is nearing his end, is troubled by his past, present, and future and throughout the film, the time spaces are presented both as seperate entities and as fluid simultaneous happenings, as we journey with Alexander through his memories and current state of mind.

We find that after the death of his wife, Anna, Alexander gives up writing to invoke on the the romantic undertaking of finishing an old 19th century poem. The story of the late poet is an interesting one in itself, as he was of Greek descent and left for Italy as a young child losing his native tongue. The poet returns to Greece during the revolution and buys words to regain his language and be the voice of a liberalized Greece. For the lack of language, he leaves the poem unfinished.

Alexander most likely takes up the task of finishing the poem to quench his unrest and his own shortfallings. Along the way, he befriends a young refugee from Albania, a child to whom he becomes increasingly attached. The partnership, which joins youth with age, is one that is endearing, and we watch what innocence and experience can lend one another. Exilism is common recurring theme within the film, and strangers oft make significant appearances.

The relationship Alexander has with the child along with a journey through his memories, sheds light on life, and he realizes that what he is searching for has perhaps been there all along, right within the poem, and that is "life is sweet, and..." simply "life is sweet."

The film is delightfully lulling, in imagery and in message. At times the characters are theatrical, with exaggerated expressions and movement, and at times very real, which is much like we treat some themes in life, in drama and in diffidence. Colors throughout the film play significantly with emotions. In moments of pain and seriousness, we find a wintry eeriness and greys. In stark contrast, in times of happiness and contentment there are dull, still yellows and blues and recurrent whites as in a faded old photograph that provokes nostalgia.

The film is beautiful and touching with a positively infecting stillness as it answers the question, "How long does tomorrow last?"

History Will Repeat Itself

Pleasantly surprised was I to find “Art Deco: Rhythm and Verve” still on view during a recent visit to the New York Public Library’s Humanities and Social Sciences Library on Fifth Avenue at 42nd Street. The exhibition, which has been running since last September and was scheduled to close in January, has been extended through April.

Though I’ve seen the small exhibit several times, the rarely seen photos and prints lured me in again. Upon entrance, I was welcomed by the upbeat jazzed voice of Josephine Baker, live from La Revue Nègre in Paris, representing the sound of the decadent era upon which Deco thrived.

Appropriate for an art form that began simply as a decorative movement (and wasn't named an art until 1968) wallpaper motives of the time are displayed from Les Maisons Charles Follot and Paul Dumas along with advertisements for interior designs. A common trait of deco were patterns repeating themselves over and over upon a medium, a visual illustration of the machine efficiency that was improving throughout the twenties, creating the "rhythm" that was so prevalent in urban settings during that decade.

Other visual influences on Deco were Orientalism and the Ballet Russes, which produced a most peculiar effect on the art.

The Library's curator tells viewers "...Art Deco captured the carefree modernist spirit of those decades, aided by the inspired improvisation of American jazz. Its designs brought to life 1920s gaiety, bathtub gin, cocktails, commercial radio, and Prohibition, along with 1930s intensity. In the years leading to World War II, the style’s lightheartedness began to look markedly out of place..."

The "opulent consumerism" and gaudiness of the Roaring Twenties are significant themes in the art style, which can only remind one of our current economic affairs, in which the same lavish lifestyles, spending habits, and hedonism have buried us into one deep hole where we can find exhibits and collections freezing across the city.

Les Années Folles

I had the opportunity to visit the Whitney recently to see the outstanding Alexander Calder exhibition, "The Paris Years: 1926-1933." This is one of the most breathtaking and inspiring exhibits of the Whitney containing all the exciting and transporting qualities of a good, worthwhile show.

The artist, an American expatriate, joined the Parisian art scene of Montemarte in the twenties, and allowed the city to inspire his art to its full potential. His personal style, one of childlike and whimsical playfulness puts life in sculpture, with wire formations of cartoonish portraits of his friends and acquaintances in Paris. In the perfectly arranged exhibit, his sculptures hang from a thin thread, side by side, casting shadows on the blank walls around them, their togetherness complimenting and creating an almost dreamlike effect.

His toy creations are equally impressive, with elaborate detail, they give a sense of treasured fragility, making it wondrous any child was ever actually able to play with them.

Letters in his childlike scrawl are displayed, mostly to his mother back in the states, but to other business and art acquaintances as well. Written in a formless cursive similar to one who just learned to write, his sentences and writing style are also basic and elementary, modest and innocent, intriguing for his age and experience.

The Miniature Circus was probably the most surreal and exciting component of the exhibit. Calder himself put on performances of a small-scale circus, feeding life into his small sculptural characters, transporting his modern audience to Les Années Folles, an exciting cultural movement that was happening in Paris during that decade. Videos of the actual performance art are projected onto screens, while an actual set-up of a circus is sprawled out on the floor. I found myself completely in awe watching the little pieces move around the floor, fascinated by the life and joviality of the era.



I left the exhibit feeling like a child, amused by simple joys of life, and inspired to create. Anyone want to put on a puppet show?