t4ZzMkDLjWI

Jupiter Ascending

-Film Reviewed by Jemma Beggs–

Directed by the creators of The Matrix, Andy & Lana Wachowski, viewers expect a kooky, thought provoking and brilliantly composed film. The science fiction epic now in theatres, Jupiter Ascending, however, is a mixed bag. Confounding oddities counter every awe-inspiring moment, leaving audiences asking, “What the hell was that?” As the film progresses, these distressing moments begin to mount. We are on a journey through space; following a young girl as she makes the transition from toilet cleaner to owner of the earth. Meanwhile, a genetically engineered warrior attempts to prevent her from being killed by a menagerie of increasingly extraordinary creatures. This is fantasy at its most fantastical.

Some scenes in the film are downright bizarre. When Sean Bean kneels before Mila Kunis, (AKA the terribly named, “Jupiter Jones”) after a swarm of bees reveal that she is, in fact, “Queen of the Earth,” this new ordering of the universe is difficult to swallow. Bean’s character is fairly pointless in the grand scheme of the plot. Seemingly included only to reveal the reason for Caine’s fall from grace, his back story would be depicted more effectively through the use of a flashback.

Despite the fundamental weirdness of the plot and its characters, the film does have some bright spots. The incredibly imaginative inhabitants of this futuristic universe make for some extraordinary visuals, and audiences are quickly immersed in the colorful, detailed and strange new world that Jupiter Ascending creates. The planets, in particular, are intricately detailed and visually stunning, projecting gorgeous backdrops that, at times, overshadow the action taking place upon them.

The film’s many ferocious creatures combine excellent graphics and special effects, dominating the production. Unfortunately, the plot suffers as a consequence. Action sequences displace dialogue and themes lack gravity. Likewise, there are far too many boringly predictable close calls. Caine Wise, (played by the supremely ripped but bizarrely goateed Channing Tatum), is constantly swooping in, just in the nick of time. He rescues Jupiter from plunging to her death, being burned alive and marrying a psychopath. The fight scenes also drag on interminably, diminishing their significance. This directorial choice is a real shame, as these battles could have been superb, especially in 3D.

Character development is also lacking. Caine is a genetically engineered, half-albino ex-military fighter with both wolf and human DNA, who once had wings. Surely he must have some pretty hefty back story? Viewers, however, are denied any real explanation. Tatum does not appear particularly pale, and his wolf characteristics consist solely of his slightly pointed ears and a faint growl (when angry.) Audiences would certainly appreciate a few flashbacks depicting the creature’s beginnings.

The biggest shocker of the film and a major let-down is the fact that despite being two of the most gorgeous people on the planet, Kunis and Tatum have zero chemistry. Predictably, the two characters are destined to fall in love, but their courtship lacks romance or any build-up to what turns into an incredibly awkward and cringe-worthy scene. Poor writing is the culprit here, not the actors, as both Kunis and Tatum are brilliant in all other aspects of the film, making what they can of the lackluster dialogue. Following her heroic rescue from a bunch of homicidal aliens, Jupiter asks, “Who are you?” To which, her rescuer replies “Caine Wise, I’m here to help you.” The cliche encounter strands these lovers in the vacuum of space.

Douglas Booth, Tuppence Middleton and Eddie Redmayne are all magnificently cast as members of the broken and twisted Abrasax family. Redmayne, however, with his raspy voice reminiscent of Lord Voldemort, steals the show. He is convincing as a madman, willing to do anything to maintain control of his empire. The plan: harvest living creatures to create an elixir of immortality… If there is a take home message underlying this space thriller’s special effects, explosions and high tech space crafts, then it is easy to draw parallels between the current debates regarding climate change and inequality. Jupiter Ascending depicts a wealthy class exploiting the masses to maintain and feed their extravagant and selfish lifestyles. Our society’s lacking regard for the environment and the culture of consumerism in which we live are all under scrutiny.

Jupiter Ascending is a strange concoction of great potential strangled by tired plot lines and half-evolved characters. Freudian intrigues and bursts of technical imagination establish a vivid world and certainly help audiences leave orbit, but this film may be a black hole when it comes to paying admission.

***

Post Photo Courtesy of http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Jupiter_Ascending

Post Photo Courtesy of: en.wikipedia.org

Monologging.org is pleased to present this week’s #Bite Twitter Tales!

The following 140 character tweets were written by monologging enthusiasts across the web in response to last week’s prompt, “Turbulence.”

Follow these authors on social media and join the growing community of collaborating writers and artists by submitting your own #Bite tweet.

Visit Monologging.org every Sunday morning to find out the latest prompt and submit free throughout the week via SUBMITTABLE.

THE BITES:

#Bite @RogerMarket The table was set when he came in through the back door. Food cold, rotted. Everything quiet. His black eye still ached.

#Bite @diranasaurus “Did I break it?” she asked. Silence. Hands shaking like a plane caught unawares, she waited for the storm to follow.

#Bite @everlastingMCL In Sun-forged titanium sheen, Icarus stole Lazarus’ heart from an air where dream-lined plumage fanned peril’s breath.

#Bite @everlastingMCL Tenants above us pitch, roll, and yaw. Glass breaks and plaster flakes. They make more babies once the beatings drown.

#Bite @jkres14 “How did I ever let you talk me into this?” said the penguin looking up from his barf-bag. “Flying is for the birds…”

#Bite @nelben the buoyancy of the ship caused it to sway; in the storm, the sea revealed its nature; bipolar suffering and wild abandonment.

#Bite @JemmaMarieBeggs Thought stopping, heart dropping, stomach churning, ground yearning, sweat & prayer inducing, sheer, consuming fear.

#Bite @NairobiCollins We went up but quickly came down. It shook, we shook, I was shaken. 7  brief minutes became 3 hours of non-stop fear.

#Bite @19nik72 Disorder, commotion, slipstream violence. “I’m fine,” You lie through a white-knuckled smile, as you jackknife into oblivion.

#Bite @kendrabartell Plane prayers paid again-please God. Please. Not this time just keep it flying keep it lifted keep it. Keep it. Please.

***

Post Photo Courtesy of http://blogs.phoenixnewtimes.com/

Monologging.org is pleased to present this week’s #Bite Twitter Tales!

The following 140 character tweets were written by monologging enthusiasts across the web in response to last week’s prompt, “Speeding Ticket.”

Follow these authors on social media and join the growing community of collaborating writers and artists by submitting your own #Bite tweet.

Visit Monologging.org every Sunday morning to find out the latest prompt and submit free throughout the week via SUBMITTABLE.

THE BITES:

#Bite @AbbyHiggs First speeding ticket: two cop cars. One follows, another cuts me off.Hadn’t noticed. Led Zeppelin was too loud.

#Bite @cbresner Sorry officer, I blame the pinecone car freshener for all my indiscretions.

#Bite @Breezy_Nesleezy “We’re all just rushing towards red lights,” I slurred. “Then why did you speed up?” Asked the officer.

#Bite @TheSquibbler 50 in a 30, stopped in a small town, admitted guilt. “No one’s ever this honest. Have a good day ma’am.” Warned.

#Bite @diranasaurus “No officer. No weapons in the vehicle.” Gore under his nails, he reclines his head. He waits. No cars pass for hours.

#Bite @RogerMarket I didn’t NEED to go 85 in a 55. But I wanted to. He was hiding in plainsight, of course; that’s how they get ya.

#Bite @JemmaMarieBeggs More important than a receipt, more hated than a bill, more frequent than a postcard, more contested than a will!

***

Locus and Latitudes: A Collaboration

-Poems by Philip F. Clark, Photography by Ronaldo Aguiar–

In the most extravagant multi-media gallery ever produced on Monologging.org, the following interactive presentation fuses writing, photography, film and voice recordings. The composite gallery explores a rich collaborative landscape created by New York City-based poet Philip F. Clark, and Brazillian photographer, Ronaldo Aguiar. Clark’s poetry grasps at the emotion-laden details that Aguiar captures through his lens, his voice revealing punctuated moods and a blend of scene-inspired feelings. From the soft light vanishing across a desert scrub horizon to a flood of orange in a deserted hallway, there are willful characters present. Magnetic attractions discovered through collaboration help these figures emerge from shadows and find their latitudes… 

“Light is the Only Witness to Ruin,” Photograph by Ronaldo Aguiar

Light Is the Only Witness To Ruin

Light is the only witness to ruin;
we hold our lives like wood in our hands,
as we hew it in wonder. We carve out our kings.
They don’t last. We make monuments.

Our cut and knarled fingers grip each other;
Unused to embrace, we touch as if we
were blind, hoping by touch to find the place
where flesh remembers its moorings.
Skin hungers but asks nothing of our hands.

We walk over and over until we become
our own roads, though few follow the paths.
What was here, who were we, what might we have been?
Each year we met on the road, we parted.

Night too has its asides and whispers;
it holds its ounce of forgiving dark. A shape in light
is the same at night — yet the one needs eyes
and the other hands. There has been lamentation here.

***

Steam Workers 

Dawn begins inside the steam,
the rush of hot water on still asleep hands;
the clamor of pot and plate; the withered soap,
the clock, the clock, the clock.
This dish will just make the rent,
that cup the electric bill; this spoon will
buy a lemon; this knife a hard-earned rose.
Need is met with wishes, and scrubbed hard.
A tonsure of sweat, a knowing smile;
the orders are choired in.

We lift, submerge, recover.
We earn and dream.

*** 

“Glass Buildings,” Photograph by Ronaldo Aguiar

Skins 

Color fuses to light as flesh does to desire;
every surface hides a hope, a second chance,
and a shrill alacrity for alarm. The hive
is relentless. The eye takes everything in.
A thousand hours sculpt the day:
The dawn in the harbor dresses the metal and glass,
the air, as cool as pardons and promises,
collects its electric skins.
It is all we know of habitat. It is our habit of being,
as we house ourselves in these towers of stone
clocking our days with the haunt of seeing.

 ***

Lost Highway

The only music is far from here, and the only art
is the art of letting go. This road is an open question:
The rear-view mirror like the past in front of me.
How easy it would be to stop, to let what happens happen
and how hard it is to not keep going, to keep my hands
on the cost of the present, and the barter of all now behind.
What can this mendicant traveler hope for?
The good alms of better weather, wisdom and enough gas.

 ***

“Corridor,” Photograph by Ronaldo Aguiar

Corridor

He happened to me here.
I might have gone one floor higher,
but I stopped alarmed instead. I heard
his flagrant voice behind this door.
I might have questioned who it was,
and the sudden siren in my head. I might
have opened other doors than his.
Who would believe such a scene with
its scant and attendant ardors; who would
wander up these stairs and wonder
who I was speaking to? Who would
be surprised that I was talking in a foreign
language; that I was kissing a foreign air?

***

Post Photo Courtesy of http://www.robert-b-ritter-jr.com/

Monologging.org is pleased to present this week’s #Bite Twitter Tales!

The following 140 character tweets were written by monologging enthusiasts across the web in response to last week’s prompt, “Arson.”

Follow these authors on social media and join the growing community of collaborating writers and artists by submitting your own #Bite tweet.

Visit Monologging.org every Sunday morning to find out the latest prompt and submit free throughout the week via SUBMITTABLE.

THE BITES:

#Bite @beccaelisesays The flames cast poinsettias in her glaring gaze; she throws another photo & we watch our history melt, blacken, gone.

#Bite @jennytomato Plywood bandages the injuries. A once stately & proud boasting beauty now somber, smoldering in ash. Victim of a coward.

#Bite @BelartWright In Detroit Halloween’s were never dark. From the orange glow of unlucky houses came the devil’s night light.

#Bite @TheSquibbler Conspired plans of accidental destruction. Insurance collection & fade into obscurity. Thoughts many now dream.

#Bite @TheSquibbler He flicked his cigarette into the hibernating bushes & kept walking, presuming he was doing the family a favor.

#Bite @everlastingMCL An innocent of Twain’s domain bled out upon his Palatine; so Nero’s folly raged forth to “Burn this fucker down!”

#Bite @JemmaMarieBeggs The girl slipped unnoticed from the bakery. That’ll teach Tommy she thought as she skipped down Pudding lane.

#Bite @jkres14 Mary Jane and I always loved taking walks–one time we came upon a fallen log. With nothing else to do, we roasted that tree.

#Bite @chrisphillipx Sadness. Power. Control. If I can’t have you, then nobody will. 2 gallons should work. Once I drop this match it’s over

#Bite @RogerMarket He cheated; she found out. His house was lovely that night, under the full moon, burning to the ground. Full of his shit.

 ***

Big Screen Streaming: American Sniper

-Film Review by Roger Market–

Clint Eastwood’s American Sniper has been the number one movie in America for a couple of weeks now. The film is also one of the most controversial features in recent memory. Based on the memoir of the same name, American Sniper tells the story of Chris Kyle’s Navy SEAL training and his four tours of duty in Iraq. During his service, Chris “The Legend” Kyle was credited with 160 kills, making him the deadliest sniper in U.S. military history. Aside from the obvious controversy (that he killed people), negative criticism of the book and movie tend to center on the accusation that the U.S. military fabricates and/or exaggerates war heroes as a form of propaganda. Secondly, Kyle’s alleged penchant for lying and bragging is of public concern. Although the latter controversy goes largely unaddressed in the film, the former provides a focal point, raising the question: Does Hollywood create propaganda? This is a film that will prompt important discussions.

In the opening scene, Chris spots a suspicious Iraqi man on a rooftop. He trains his gun on him but ultimately decides the man is not dangerous. Next, he shifts his suspicions to a woman and her little boy as they exit the building. They seem to be hiding something under their clothes. The tension is palpable, as the viewer realizes that evil can come in the form of the person or people we least expect. Finally, we flash back to Chris’s pre-war days, and the nail-biting opening sequence doesn’t conclude until the beginning of the second act.

Critics may suggest that this mother-child sequence is Hollywood at its most sensational. At the end of the day, however, the sequence is effective and emotional, and that’s exactly why we watch movies. “Entertainment” doesn’t always mean laughs, after all. Which is good, because, after the first act, there are few laughs to be had in American Sniper.

The movie’s early flashbacks show Chris learning to hunt with his father, Wayne Kyle. As the viewer might expect, young Chris easily takes down a deer on his own, establishing him as a crack shot from the beginning. In the scenes that follow, Chris’s father instills values like “we protect our own,” which serves as a major theme throughout the movie. Wayne also believes that one shouldn’t fight unless violence is unavoidable. When Chris helps his little brother in a schoolyard fight, therefore, both boys are punished, even though their father is proud that Chris stepped in to help his weaker sibling. “Did you finish it?” Wayne asks, revealing what he thinks is most important when it comes to navigating life’s meanest confrontations.

This question drives the film thematically. Early in his military career, Chris becomes obsessed with catching an enemy sniper known as “The Butcher” and, thus, turns the war into a personal dilemma. Only he can “finish it.” Across his four tours, Chris makes and loses friends. He becomes distant from everyone, including his family. Ultimately, he loses touch with his pre-war self.

Despite the controversy surrounding the movie, one fact that’s gone largely unchallenged is that Bradley Cooper is phenomenal in the role of the broken and tortured Chris Kyle. A particularly poignant scene takes place during one of his trips home. Upon his arrival in the United States, Chris stops at a bar and soon receives a phone call from his wife Taya (played by Sienna Miller). She’s surprised to learn that her husband is already stateside.

“I guess I just needed a minute,” Chris says, fighting back tears. Cooper’s performance here is astonishing. Sometimes it’s more impressive to see an actor withhold tears than to see him/her break down, and this is one of those moments. Sienna Miller turns in a wonderful performance as Taya, and in this particular scene, she conveys the appropriate amount of confusion and concern. Troubles aside, it’s clear that she loves and is committed to her husband.

Despite the movie’s acting triumphs and powerful story, American Sniper does present some noticeable pacing issues due to the book-to-screen nature of the story. Simply put, there’s so much story to cover in an adaptation that the screenwriter has to make some tough and often unpopular decisions. In the American Sniper film, Chris’s first tour of duty doesn’t end until almost the midpoint of the movie. That means the second half has to breeze through the remaining three tours, and some viewers may feel cheated out of details. Elements that seem important early in the movie (e.g., Chris’s brother) seem to evaporate later without a satisfactory resolution. Most importantly, because of the disproportionate amount of time spent setting up Chris’s family life and his first tour of duty in act one, Chris’s pursuit and eventual defeat of The Butcher feels almost like an afterthought. The effect is a stunning movie that fails to reach its full potential, although the reasons are understandable considering the current film market’s thirst for adaptations.

Finally, viewers should be aware that it’s a strange experience to watch this movie in theaters. This reviewer saw American Sniper on a Sunday at 12:45 p.m. Even at that time of day, the theater was packed, something I’ve never seen happen. Throughout the movie, I could hear the man next to me (there was no room to spread out) gasping and talking quietly to himself—about what, I’ll never know. In the end, the credits rolled, and it was then that I realized I had never seen a credit sequence without music. Yes, the closing credits of American Sniper are silent. Equally powerful, the audience had been so engrossed in the film that for at least 30 seconds after the silent credits began to roll, not a single person said anything. I slipped out quietly and let the chatter rise around me as people slowly found their voices again.

By its very nature, American Sniper is bound to make viewers think, despite and perhaps because of its imperfections. The film provokes mixed feelings about the Iraq war and walks a thin line between being an honest drama and military propaganda. That said, Clint Eastwood deserves credit for directing a picture that demands the viewer’s respect for its characters and the true events they represent. American Sniper is well worth the matinee price. The screen is a target, and your eyes won’t blink until you’ve “finished it.”

***

Post Photo Courtesy of: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/American_Sniper_(film)

Port au Prince 2010. Photo Courtesy of Wikipedia

Irritable Hearts

-Book Reviewed by Diana Mumford–

The talented Mac McClelland has done it again—the critically acclaimed reporter whose work has appeared in Rolling Stone, The New York Times Magazine, and other publications, has written yet another heartbreaking and exhilarating book. Irritable Hearts: A PTSD Love Story, is an in-depth look at McClelland’s time spent reporting in Port-au-Prince, Haiti. Arriving in the wake of the disastrous 2010 earthquake and tsunami that crippled the impoverished country’s already fragile infrastructure and prompted a humanitarian crisis, the reporter is not immune to the tragedy. Her novel captures the emotional fallout she experienced in the subsequent months.

The glimpse into the past begins with the author’s arrival in Port-au-Prince, nine months after the earthquake. As a reporter, she intends to capture the developing nation’s complex pain and suffering and to relate the hardship and devastation she witnesses to her fellow privileged Americans. A self-described feminist, McClelland focuses on the violence, sexual and otherwise, that women in Haiti face on a daily basis. In Irritable Hearts, she recounts many chilling instances of terror. The atrocities committed against these women are difficult to read, but McClelland describes their stories as bluntly as she experienced them herself. She interviews rape victims, as well as brutally maimed women. One woman has had her legs smashed. Another woman is a victim of gun violence. These tragedies, however, are not limited to native Haitian women. McClelland also delves into her experiences with sexual harassment and assault while in Haiti, and she details her feelings of helplessness when the men she encounters abuse their positions of power. These dire circumstances lead McClelland to her emotional instability.

Amid the chaos, the author finds solace in the arms of a handsome French stranger, Nico, her other half in this love story. McClelland is instantly attracted to Nico, but this isn’t a schmaltzy, Nicolas Sparks-esque love story; it’s real life. McClelland’s doesn’t romanticize her emotional instability–eventually diagnosed as PTSD, and she is honest about how her shell shock affects her love life. This honesty is what makes McClelland’s story relatable and what makes McClelland so easy to root for as the narrator. McClelland’s mental state affects her physically, leaving her feeling as if she has no limbs, completely disconnected from her body.  “As scary as the idea of experiencing all the feelings in my body was, scarier was the prospect of being so disconnected from it that I didn’t have reflexes anymore,” McClelland writes. The author’s constant and invasive memories twist into persistent nightmares. In a conversation with Nico, she says, “I was dreaming I stepped in a decomposing face.” These are only a few of the rich descriptions that characterize the inner workings of her PTSD-rattled mind.

When McClelland and Nico part ways, they keep in touch via Skype. All the while, the author is attempting various therapies in order to feel human again. McClelland claims, “I want to feel myself in the world.” Language and continental barriers aside, Nico is a near-constant companion during this process. McClelland doesn’t romanticize her relationship with Nico. He is understanding and loving, but he is also cruel and selfish. He is human, and so is she. Ruminating on a shared trip to France, she says, “…in that country, on his soil, Nico behaved more as he’d been raised. Harder. Harsher. He’d already been growing tired of our melodramatic, episodic interactions before I’d arrived, and in France, he was less forgiving.” Nico’s patience eventually returns and their lives resume as before.

Besides making their unlikely love story function, the most compelling part of the book is McClelland’s clinical discussion of what makes an episode so traumatic that the brain can’t fully recover. Likewise, her analysis of how much trauma is enough to qualify for PTSD is informative. She explores the human psyche’s breaking point and postulates that PTSD is a chronic condition for which not many Americans have sympathy or are even aware. After all, even McClelland was in denial about her initial PTSD diagnosis. The author’s journey through various types of therapies leads her to publish articles that receive public ridicule and even call her journalistic integrity into question. Eventually, McClelland manages to explain her PTSD as a response to articles such as Slate’s Mac McClelland, What’s Happening in Haiti is Not About You. A silver lining lies in claims that this white woman from a developed Western country is too privileged for PTSD. Her book includes several letters from readers who claim her articles helped them recognize their struggles with PTSD and begin to seek treatment.

Part reporting, part self-help, and part love story, at its core, Irritable Hearts: A PTSD Love Story, is a personal work of self-reflection and self-rediscovery. Ultimately, this memoir is a must-read.

Available February 2015 from Flatiron Books.

***

Post Photo Courtesy of http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/2010_Haiti_earthquake

Photo Courtesy of http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Barber’s_pole

Monologging.org is pleased to present the first #Bite Twitter Tales!

The following 140 character tweets were written by monologging enthusiasts across the web in response to last week’s prompt, “Bad Haircut.”

Follow these authors on social media and join the growing community of collaborating writers and artists by submitting your own #Bite tweet.

Visit Monologging.org every Sunday morning to find out the latest prompt and submit free throughout the week via SUBMITTABLE.

THE BITES:

#Bite @JemmaMarieBeggs I sit in the chair clutching the photo. This is it-The Look. The scissors glide toward my head. Snip Snip. Shit! Shit!

#Bite @Carolynesutra 4 years old at my dad’s barber, Rocco, family friend. It was a favor, business was bad. Egos are quick to grow back.

#Bite @TheSquibbler Aspiration? Fierce Rihanna cut. Photo in tow. Miracles unexpected, stylistdidn’t even try. She, too kind to say so.

#Bite @anniemalhaus Macklemore bouffant, Big Unit mullet. Chop off the dead and put a bowl upon it.

#bite @mess_of_petals when I passed out in a stylist’s chair after an all night bender shedid her best, bless her efforts. #myrockbottom

#bite @chrisphillipx I’m not crazy. Just poor. I did it myself. Next time..I’ll see a barber. *sigh* Nobodywill hire me looking like this.

#Bite @everlastingMCL Ms. Mansfield was low hanging fruit when her chignon du cour fell upon gravelno Jain would dare to harvest. C’est chic!

#Bite @everlastingMCL Seared locks from Egypt’s queen lit a flame in Singapore. Couture took up thesavoir faire and torched Rodeo Drive.

#Bite @TheBetsyBoyd Hair can hurt your feelings: for Darla, 13, new bangsclanged in her ears, as girls laughed, AND boys–even her old aunt failed to halt her H-H-HAA.

#Bite @RogerMarket What kind of tip are you after, hon? Bangs too short, sideburns askew, AND you stole my heart. I can’t even! Here’s my #.

#Bite @gioclair Marie-Antoinette loved the poor: she cut their hair with scissors andbowl. A monk’s bob they got, instead of a pompadour

***

Photo Courtesy of http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Barber’s_pole

Roberto Chavez: Portraits

-Reporting by Eliza Newman–

Finally, Roberto Chavez’s portraits are receiving the attention they deserve. Glike Gallery, only a few miles away from the eastside barrio where the artist was born, is showing an extensive collection of his works. The show, titled “Roberto Chavez: Portraits” will run until February 22.

Inside, there’s a portrait of a daughter wearing a piggish scowl and half a dozen self-portraits of the artist looking younger and younger despite the passage of time… If Van Gogh’s signature adorned these paintings, marking their eerie blue shadows and bold brushstrokes with his renown, surely we would have seen them by now. Had the public regarded Roberto Chavez’s works as art, rather than political puzzle pieces of the Chicano-Angelino experience, this would not be the first time our gaze meets these expressive faces frozen on canvases.

Painting in a time when Pop Art and Minimalism were thought to be the artistic ideal, Chavez defies contemporary artistic conventions. Instead, he simultaneously dares to challenge and preserve the impressionistic style popularized almost a century before.

The bold swaths of color in his paintings suggest a certain artistic confidence, but it is the eyes on Chavez’s paintings that seize hold and leave a lasting impression. While it would be natural to attribute this singularly searing quality of the eyes to artistic brilliance or exceptional levels of empathy, the brief descriptions beside each painting at Glike Gallery suggest otherwise. Chavez is painting those closest to him, with loving devotion.

Beneath a painting entitled, “Family Portrait,” Chavez writes: “My family when my number two daughter, Sonna, was an infant. The dog’s name was lover.” Indeed, even a seductive nude is revealed to be an imagined likeness of one of Chavez’s friends, rather than a painting of a dancer or prostitute as viewers first imagine.

When painting others, Chavez is remarkably devoted to his subjects. He paints with immense kindness and honesty. The artist holds up a mirror, attempting to portray those who sit for him exactly as they see themselves, rather than manipulating their thoughts and emotions to serve his artistic vision.

While Chavez has painted countless portraits of friends, fellow painters, and loved ones, the subject to which he most often returns appears to be himself. Nearly half a dozen portraits of the artist hang on the walls. The paintings chronicle the life of a man who has grown more relaxed and informal over the course of his life. The earlier pieces are about what you’d expect from a young artist: dark and moody with a sense of almost counterfeit angst. Even in “Family Portrait,” Chavez paints himself with an air of self-consciousness that separates him from the rest of the family. Painting oneself as part of a group is a daunting task for any young artist seeking individuality, yet Chavez’s early work shows promise and he moves steadily past his initial discomfort. Now there is a release. His later self-portraits appear in the same joyous light with which he paints his relatives, friends and colleagues. In addition, he is willing to experiment.

One wall in the gallery features a trio of Chavez’s self-portraits—one from 1957, one from 1979, and one from 1983. The final portrait, titled, “Self Portrait with Stuffed Fish,” shows an almost unrecognizable playfulness. In the place of the darkly stylized canvases that characterize much of his early work, Chavez adopts a vivid red canvas. He further moves his signature blues and greens to his face, rather than the space around him.

Even when the artist plays, however, trying out mutations of his image and experimenting with fanciful watercolor and pencil sketches, some of Chavez’s brooding intensity and call for understanding remains. His works don’t challenge woes of materialistic consumerism, as many of his contemporaries do. Instead, they prompt observers to look at themselves and one another to discover contentment and sympathy.

At 83, Chavez continues to work and produce art from his home in Arizona. Los Angeles, however, is where his career began, and where his legacy as both an artist and an educator is most appreciated. Even if there’s no Wikipedia page breaking down his life into easily digested factoids, Chavez’s art is unmistakable, and his legacy as the so-called “Spiritual Father of Chicano Art” entirely earned.

***

Post Photos by Eliza Newman

Introducing #Bite!

-The New Monologging.org Free Submission Category- 

THIS WEEK’S THEME IS:

#ToasterOven

Monologging.org is seeking raw and biting 140 character poetry, personal expressions, and ultra-short fiction submissions to publish weekly on Twitter.

Here’s How it Works:

1.) Every week a new theme / prompt will be posted. Visit Monologging.org, or follow us on Twitter and Facebook to learn about the weekly theme.

Example Theme: Techno Music

2.) Compose your submission:

Responses must follow this format:

#Bite @(Your Twitter handle) (Your original content)

*Your writing should embrace the theme with a clear and resounding voice, reveal character, or convey a profound mood. Responses will also be rated for the author’s word choice, style, and ability to abbreviate (where necessary) with clarity.

3.) Submit for FREE via SUBMITTABLE up until 12PM EST every Thursday night, at which point the category will close until a new theme is posted Sunday Morning.

*Submissions must be titled according to the weekly theme/prompt and comply with standard Twitter formatting. All submissions exceeding 140 characters will be declined.

4.) Submissions will be reviewed on a weekly basis Monologging Editor, Jeffrey F. Barken and Seattle-based poet, Patrick Milian.

Click here to read: #Bite examples written by Jeffrey and Patrick.

*As many as 10 submissions will be selected weekly for publication every Saturday. You’ll know yours was chosen when you hear your phone “tweet” and read this exciting news: “@monologging mentioned you in a tweet!”

Selected entries will also be published on Monologging.org under the title “This Week’s #Bite Twitter Tales.”

We’re looking forward to reading your work and sharing some biting writing! Please visit and explore Monologging.org often. Submit to #Bite as many times as you like and connect with the growing network of up-and-coming artists featured on the site via social media. Happy Tweeting!

*Note: All submissions are subject to review by Monologging Editors. Only entries approved by our staff will be published.

Editor Bios:

Jeffrey F. Barken

Jeffrey F. Barken, editor and founder of Monologging.org, is a novelist and a reporter. He  is the author of “This Year in Jerusalem,” a collection of fiction stories loosely based on his experiences as a kibbutz volunteer in Israel, 2009-10. In 2013, Jeffrey traveled to Europe and Israel to conduct a promotional book tour for his self-designed and self-published book. He has recently returned to New York City where he is completing work on a new novel, entitled: “All the Lonely Boys in New York.”

Patrick Milian

Patrick Milian recently received his MFA from the University of Washington where he was a recipient of the Klepser Endowed Fund and the Joan Grayston Poetry Prize. His poetry has appeared in Denver Quarterly, Hayden’s Ferry Review, Meridian, Copper Nickel, The Baltimore Review, and several other journals. He currently lives and writes in Seattle.

***

Post Photo Courtesy of https://www.fatbraintoys.com