Daily Archives: June 22, 2017

Red Utopia is an art book in the making, documenting communist parties and their iconography over the past 100 years in India, Italy, Nepal, Portugal and Russia. The project is currently gathering funds on Kickstarter and will be jointly published by Nazraeli Press and Ipso Facto.

Jan Banning, the photographer and artist behind the work, describes Red Utopia as a non-propagandistic search for what is left of communism, 100 years after the Russian Revolution.The book will contain photos of communist party office interiors as well as environmental portraits of officials and activists, and is plannedfor publication in October 2017, to mark the hundredth anniversary of the Russian Revolution.

Elisabeth Biondi, the independent curator and former Visuals Editor at The New Yorker, described the photo series as terrific and even better than Bureaucratics, Bannings critically acclaimed photo book that brought him worldwide recognition.

To find out more about the project and how to get involved, click here to visit the crowdfunding page.

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Red Utopia: help fund a new art book documenting communist iconography across the globe - The Calvert Journal

The compound called Orange Acres is arranged in four quadrants. At the bottom of the sloping property, abutting U.S. 93, used cars are parked in grassy rows. Next to the cars, the first strawberries of the year are ripening in a garden. Uphill of the garden is owner Jeffrey-James Halvorson's single-story house. And across from his house, Halvorson has converted an old tannery into what's most simply described as a guesthouse.

Flagpoles flank the junction at the center of Halvorson's property. A flag showing a smiley face with the words "Peace, love and happiness" flaps atop one. From the other flies the yellow "Don't Tread On Me" banner of American revolutionaries, its coiled rattlesnake ready to strike.

Halvorson is Orange Acres' only permanent resident, but he likes company. He's variously advertised this 8.36-acre strip of land south of Arlee as a commune, couchsurfing community center, nerd colony, dharma station and free guest ranch. The Missoulian called it "peculiar." A couchsurfing Mother Jones reporter noted the unconventional house rules (dreadlocked guests must provide their own pillowcase) and the assault rifle Halvorson claims to keep on the premises.

In his late 30s and sturdily built, Halvorson smiles like an old friend as a reporter pulls up, stepping away from the yellow refrigerator that he and a preppy, twentysomething man named Wes are lugging across the yard. At the same time, a lanky, older guest turns off the lawnmower he's been pushing beside his motorhome. The sound of the engine gives way to wind chimes dancing in a summer breeze. The breeze blows open the doors to an outdoor cupboard, exposing stacks of dishware to the sun.

Halvorson is, in no particular order, an ambassador for couchsurfing, an ordained minister (credentialed online) and a used-car salesman. To the extent that others might see contradictions among those personas, he is unfazed. One minute Halvorson is explaining his spiritual mission to give food and shelter to veterans, homeless people and pretty much anyone who isn't drunk and wants a place to rest. The next, he's saying that Missoula County officials should be jailed for what he considers their campaign over the last six years to stop him. The minute after that, he's sprinkling "be-back" dust on a potential buyer whose first offer is too low.

A self-described Libertarian, Halvorson likes to demonstrate taxation policy by passing around a dollar bill and cutting off a third of it with each exchange. Pretty soon the whole dollar is gone, but what's really diminished is liberty.

"We started as a country where we left (England) so people could have their freedom to farm, to live, to thrive, to practice their religion," he says. "To practice who they are."

One of those Puritans, John Winthrop, famously imagined his colony "a city upon a hill." He was quoting the Book of Matthew, in which Jesus describes his followers as "the salt of the earth" and the "light of the world." The new world, Winthrop meant, would offer more than a chance for his fellow nonconformists to flee a king. It would carry the promise, and the baggage, of righteousness.

Nearly 400 years later, two poles of American righteousness are staked out on this gentle slope south of Arlee: the hippie and the rattler, the "take and eat" of Matthew meets the "Come and take it!" of battle and self-determination. In the middle is Jeff. Standing on his hill.

Jay Lewellen found Orange Acres on Craigslist, where it was listed as a "nerd colony, free guest ranch, for young adults." The post explained that people willing to pull their weight could stay for up to 20 days, maybe longer. The listing featured a photo of people in Stormtrooper helmets posing next to a black limousine.

"We are not a cult," the ad promised.

Lewellen is 29 years old, originally from Florida, with twin neck tattoos that depict a pot leaf folded into a peace sign and a skeleton hand flashing the sign of the horns. He was planting dragon fruit in the Philippines earlier this year when he decided to move to Montana. He doesn't consider himself a nerd, but figured rent-free temporary housing would buy him time to find his footing in a new city.

His plane landed in Missoula at midnight. Halvorson met him at the airport. After a quick tour of the Orange Acres property, Lewellen laid down in a recycled-wood cabin barely bigger than the mattress inside it. He couldn't sleep because of strange rustling sounds on the other side of the wall. "It was kind of like The Hills Have Eyes," Lewellen says.

Halvorson had forgotten to mention his sheep.

Missoula residents familiar with Halvorson likely know his name from the newspaper, where he's a frequent flyer on the Missoulian's letters page, and from that paper's coverage of Missoula County's controversial crackdown on land-use violations, which landed him in court. But most people who meet Halvorson are introduced to him online, through Couchsurfing.com and other sites that cater to people in search of a free place to sleep.

Couchsurfing is for idealists, strangers who trust one another to open their homes to fellow humans without recompense. This experiment in generosity and sharing has since been co-opted and commodified by Airbnb, but commercialized hospitality is sterile compared to couchsurfing havens like Orange Acres, where host and guest alike wear their eccentricities on their sleeves. Halvorson introduces himself in his Couchsurfing.com profile as a "rebel, do-gooder" who is "out to right the wrongs of the world." Then he lists the details: Guests staying more than one night have to pitch in on chores. No crackheads, Sierra Club members, haters or meanies allowed. Dogs and children are welcome if they're leashed. No one goes hungry, but if Halvorson catches you spending money on alcohol instead of food, you'll be asked to leave. Surfers without references must complete a lengthy questionnaire that asks whether they've ever clubbed baby seals and what they'd miss most about life if they died today.

Couchsurfing is a natural fit for Halvorson, who says he'd like to meet every person on Earth, if only he could live long enough to do it. He admits to being the guy who tries to strike up a conversation in the grocery line. His worst nightmare is being trapped alone on an island with $1 million and a direct line to an Amazon drone, because he'd have no one to share the deliveries with.

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Jeff Halvorson tried to build an idiosyncratic utopia at Orange Acres. Now it could all be yours for $399999. - Missoula Independent

When American filmmaker Damani Baker talks about the power of meeting his "first black president," he isn't talking about Obama. He means Maurice Bishop, who led a bloodless coup on the tiny Caribbean island of Grenada and, for a hot minute in the early '80s, worked to turn it into an Afrocentric socialist paradise.

In The House on Coco Road, Baker sets out to recall his brief and largely idyllic experience on the island. In 1983, Baker's mom Fannie Haughton abruptly uprooted her young family from Oakland to seek a better life in Bishop's vision for a new society. But the documentary ends up painting a far broader picture of the woman who brought them there and her role in the history of black activism.

Home movies reveal Baker's family's ongoing quest for a sunnier futurefrom segregated Louisiana, where his great-grandparents were sharecroppers, to California in the Great Migration, to college campuses for his mom's political awakening and then to his boyhood home of Oakland, the birthplace of the Black Panther Party that gave way to the crack epidemic.

Through this lens, we start to understand his mom's seemingly wild plan to move their family to a tropical island in the wake of a revolution. "To live in a country where there is a black prime minister and black folks taking care of their own. I thought, what a good experience for my children," Haughton tells her son, still smiling as she thinks back on that year. "It was a utopia."

The utopia was short-lived. Bishop was deposed by his right-hand man. Reagan then sent in troops to take down what he claimed was "a Soviet Cuban colony being readied as a major military bastion to export terror and undermine democracy."

Baker says this is a lie, and his film places the episode in the larger narrative of black oppression at the hands of white America.

Still, it's a remarkably hopeful film. Baker's intimate family portrait makes a compelling case that, even in the darkest times, moms and dads should still strive toward a brighter future where their kids can play carefree in the sun. RUTH BROWN.

SEE IT: The House at Coco Road screens at Clinton St. Theater on Thursday, June 22 at 7:30 pm. $7-$10 suggested admission.

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"The House on Coco Road" Remembers A Short-Lived Afrocentric Utopia - Willamette Week

My trip to the 2017 U.S. Open at Erin Hills turned out to be an ego trip.

That happens when youre one of the co-designers of Erin Hills and your ugly mug is flashed, even briefly, on television. Along with my fellow designers, Dr. Michael Hurdzan and Dana Fry, I made the most of every opportunity. We became bona fide celebrities de jure, albeit undercard division, filling airtime in that dull Sunday through Wednesday lead-up to the main event.

It was enough exposure that people in the gallery would walk up and ask for our autographs. I signed so many hats (and flags!) that, by Tuesday, I made sure I had my trusty Sharpie in my pocket as I headed to the course. Forgot my sunglasses one morning, but not my Sharpie.

One guy asked me to sign the back of his flag, so as not to soil Jordan Speiths signature. Another asked me to pose for a selfie, which I did, and then shook my hand, saying, Terrific course, Dr. Hurdzan.

Like any good Kardashian, I had my entourage. My wife Lynn and I had rented a five-bedroom house on the edge of North Lake, 15 minutes from Erin Hills, and our five daughters, three sons-in-law and five grandsons all joined us, as did a niece and her husband from Omaha. The USGA had provided me with tickets for all, some Hospitality, some Gallery, so I had to play Scrooge on a couple of mornings, picking who deserved air conditioning that day. On Thursday I played Solomon, allowing one daughter to have breakfast in the Rules Hospitality tent before surreptitiously switching tickets with another daughter so she could also sample the buffet line.

The author, in the back with a purple shirt, with his extended family during an eventful U.S. Open week at the course he helped design.

My family played its part, particularly at the Monday afternoon USGA Architects Forum, in which Mike, Dana and I pontificated for an hour on the virtues of Erin Hills, each of us

proving that weve yet to grasp the sound-bite mentality that is essential to todays media. Had Adam Barr not let the Whitten Clan into the media tent to watch the event (and cool off), I suspect it would have lacked a quorum.

But enough about my family. This column is about me, budding narcissist.

Mike, Dana and I made two appearances on Golf Channel, one Monday evening, the other early Wednesday morning. The first time, we climbed the Golf Channel tower to the Live From set, incredibly cramped for such a rickety structure, and as a make-up artist dusted our noses, we watched Rich Lerner, Brandel Chamblee and Frank Nobilo discuss whether U.S. Open courses should now measure 8,000 yards. At the end of the segment, the first of the nightly rainstorms rolled in and a crack of lightning struck uncomfortably nearby.

Related: Ron Whitten on the making of Erin Hills

Talent off the set, the director shouted. Down to the rain room. Chamblee and Nobilo shed their microphones and were hustled downstairs. I expected to follow, but instead, microphones were put on Mike, Dana and me, and we took chairs at the desk, the open air backdrop of a storm rolling in behind us. I looked at Lerner, still at his seat, and thought, Isnt he talent, too? But, pro that he is, he stayed to conduct a quick interview with the three expendables. Anchors, I presume, are grounded.

I returned to the tower early Wednesday morning and found it empty. So I sat on the steps, thinking that sooner or later the Morning Drive crew would show up. A writer walked by, said hello, and asked why I wasnt with Mike and Dana on the practice range, where they were talking with Matt Ginella. So I ran to the practice range, found I had plenty of time to get miked up, but they stuck me on the side of a slope of the tee box next to Dana. Hes about my height but looked half a foot taller than me in the shot. Seeing my profile on a rebroadcast that evening, I looked like Danny Devito as The Penguin.

The rest of the week, I strutted around the gallery each day, awaiting recognition. One morning, a small scrum behind the eighth green caught my eye, so I investigated. It was Bob Lang, the original owner of Erin Hills, signing hats with his signature and tag line, Golf is a Journey. He saw me and motioned me over.

We proceeded to entertain a dozen spectators with a five-minute comedy routine, me mostly the butt of his jokes. But I got in one good jab.

Back in twenty-oh-three, Ron gave me a copy of his book, Bob told our modest audience, and Ron inscribed it, Someday Ill write a book about Erin Hills, and Ill call it, Golf is a Journey. You remember that, Whitten? Isnt that right?

Yes, I responded, and you stole my line.

That got a big enough laugh that a marshall shushed us up.

On Sunday, the plan was for Mike, Dana and me to walk down the 18th hole with the U.S. Open champion, whomever that might be. But I wanted to walk the entire course first. I selected the twosome of Patrick Reed and Russell Henley, both four strokes back of leader Brian Harman at the start of the fourth round, and three groups ahead.

Id been given a lime green lanyard which got me inside the ropes, and the unwritten rule is that such a lanyard is tethered to those perimeter ropes. But I wanted to walk down the middle of every fairway on my golf course that Open Sunday, despite not having a lime green Walking Access badge. Figuring its better to seek forgiveness than permission, I simply slipped under the rope after Reed and Henley teed off, and I strolled out into the middle of the first fairway, following them at a respectable distance, acting like I belonged there.

No one questioned my presence, so I followed the group for the next four hours, soaking up the grandeur, pretending the polite applause was for me. I did contribute a bit on the 12th. After Henley smothered his second shot, from the first cut of rough, into deep fescue, he and his caddie headed far too far into the gunch in search of it, so I trotted over to where Id seen the ball go in, pushed back the thigh-high grass and said, Heres your ball.

Dont touch it! the caddie shouted, and I took that as a thank-you.

Henley salvaged a bogey at 12, but then bogeyed the par-3 13th, four-putted the 14th and took a horrendous 8 on the short par-4 15th, a score that undoubtedly contributed to making 15 the hardest hole that last day. Reed, meanwhile, played steady golf, playing magnificent recoveries every time he missed a green, but he failed to sink a single birdie putt in my presence. Sorry, Patrick.

At the 15th, I spotted Hurdzan, so I left the Reed-Henley pairing. Mike and I quickly surmised that Brooks Koepka was likely to win this thing, and after we watched him birdie 15, we decided to follow him home. When Koepka then birdied the par-3 16th, we knew it was all over.

On the 18th, Koepka hit a towering 3-wood tee shot, followed by another to the slope below the green of this massive par 5. As Mike and I walked a short distance behind him, I kept looking for Dana, but never found him. Perhaps he was still with Harman, hoping for a miracle.

As Mike and I proudly marched shoulder to shoulder down the 18th of Erin Hills, sure enough, an official in a lime green shirt approached us. Off the fairway, he said. You dont have Walking Access.

Its the last hole, Mike said. Were the architects. Cut us some slack. The official did.

A lot has been made of the fact that, during my many interviews leading up to the U.S. Open, I repeatedly predicted that, if the wind didnt blow, the winner would shoot 16-under par. People were amazed that Id hit Koepkas score on the nose. I dont understand why. To steal a line from Paul Simon: As if I didnt know my own bed?

Once every 25 years I turn into Carnak. Back in 1992, when the U.S. Open was played at Pebble Beach (the last par 72 Open until Erin Hills), I bet longtime Golf Digest editor-in-chief Nick Seitz that Tom Kite, who hadnt even qualified for the Masters that year, would win it. Kite did, and I won a whole ten bucks.

I won another ten bucks this year, this time from golf architect Stephen Kay, with whom I designed my first course, Architects Golf Club in New Jersey. Stephen and I have a running wager on every major, alternately making 12 picks in advance of each event. Yes, among my dozen picks this year was Brooks Koepka. Surprised?

As if Id never noticed the way he brushed his hair from his forehead.

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Seven Days in Utopia - GolfDigest.com

Situated along Penn Avenue in downtown Pittsburgh is a community of artists.

Dance companies, studios of freelance artists, art centers are more co-exist in a creative utopia that begs for people to spend a sunny afternoon wandering in and out of each place taking in as much art as possible.

The new kid on the block, literally, is Silver Eye Center for Photography, located at 4808 Penn Ave.

This gallery that works to promote the power of contemporary photography and visual storytelling to inform, engage and inspire diverse audiences and communities, according to the gallerys mission statement.

Even though the non-profit organization will have a (re)opening celebration later this month, the gallery has been in existence since 1979.

It started as two separate entities: Blatent Image Gallery and The Silver Eye Photographic Workshop, which merged to form the Blatent Image/Silver Eye, which became Silver Eye Center for Photography in 1992.

Before moving to Penn Avenue, the center was located in the heart of Carson Street on the South Side of the city.

I think we were really looking for a neighborhood where we could do a couple of things that we couldnt do in the old gallery. We moved to the gallery in the 1980s. Photography was in a different place. Being a photography gallery you were showing 8 by 11 prints, explained Executive Director David Oresick about what prompted the gallerys move. (Now) we work with photographers that want to show really big (images) and they want to do videos. A lot of artists were working in books so it was important that we had a bookstore and a place to share and show these books. The other big thing was finding a neighborhood, finding a visual arts community. We wanted to be a part of the visual arts community, and that we really didnt have on the South Side.

According to Oresick, the new location fit the bill perfectly.

This site in particular sort of seemed like an ideal location. We had been interested in Penn Avenue in a while. This particular site, it seemed like all the stars aligned, he said.

It was the right shape and size. When I walked in I could see how it could work as a gallery. It was the right floor plan and the location was perfect. One problem we had with Carson Street was with parking. It (the new location) has more ample parking.

In addition to the physical space being perfect, the community of Penn Avenue has also been an excellent fit.

One thing that was really important to us is that we are sandwiched in the art community. They are really great with collaborating with us and we can share resources, said Oresick. We have a good relationship with the Bloomfield-Garfield Corporation (a community revitalization organization). So many things went right with the space, that it felt like the perfect spot for us.

In addition to the gallery, the brand new building also offers affordable housing on the upper floors that serves as a way for the space to give back to the community.

In order to welcome people to the gallerys new location, a special (re)opening celebration has been scheduled for June 24.

The housewarming party will be held from 6 to 8 p.m. where VIPs will share a champagne toast while noshing on big bites and drinks from local businesses. The gallery will then open for general admission from 8 to 11 p.m.

The evening will also feature a preview of Past Present Future: Western Pennsylvanias People and Places in the newly named Aaronel deRoy Gruber & Irving Gruber Gallery.

It wasnt on the schedule originally, but when we decided to go through with the move I thought we needed something for the art and photography community in Pittsburgh. The thing that is special about Silver Eye is that it has this unique history. I think it has it because of its community and these really talented and engaged artists, said Oresick. There is such a wealth of interesting and beautiful work in the region. It is pretty unique. That got me thinking that I wanted to think about the way photographers have been dealing with these hillsides and rivers and legacy of industry. We have been borrowing some of this vintage work, which I think is crucial to telling this story. How did those photographers shape photographers of today in this region? It was so much fun to dive into this work and think about how do all these artists put this landscape into their art.

After the opening reception Oresick said the gallery is looking forward to participating in the Unblurred: First Fridays event on July 7 that is a Penn Avenue gallery crawl held on the first Friday of each month and features a mixture of music, sculpture, dance, performances and more.

Silver Eyes mission is really about promoting photography as a fine art medium. One thing I always want to do is give people a greater appreciation for the art of photography, said Oresick. I want people to go away with the experience that they saw something new.

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Eye Opening Experience: Silver Eye finds new home in artist community - Uniontown Herald Standard