Mississippi Joe Callicott (1899 – 1969)

Callicott was not your typical North Mississippi blues musician. Musicians from the hill country tend to vamp on a few chords, focusing on a droning, almost hypnotic sound; Callicott was a fingerpicker in the vein of a Piedmont guitarist, with a dash of Jimmie Rodgers. He recorded three songs independently in 1929 and 1930: “Fare Thee Well Blues,” “Traveling Mama,” and “Mississippi Boll Weevil Blues”, the last of which went unreleased. Two additional tracks were recorded with Garfield Akers, the “Cottonfield Blues” — and here, his finger picking is energetic and nimble, bordering on aggressive.¹

After the 1930 session, he went unrecorded for 37 years. He was not totally forgotten, however, as his songs started to appear in anthologies of Delta Blues. He was eventually found in Nesbit, Mississippi by George Mitchell, who recorded several songs with him in August 1967. These became the basis for a number of records and re-releases, the best of which was probably Fat Possum’s Ain’t a Gonna Lie to You. Unfortunately, his guitar playing had diminished somewhat by this time, but his voice had matured beautifully. His singing on “Frankie and Albert” is expressive and full of sadness yet was beautiful and nuanced throughout. After these sessions, he recorded several songs for Blue Horizons which were a bit lower-quality and rougher. He died in 1969 and was only recently given a proper headstone.

Purchase Mississippi Joe Callicott Albums On Amazon

Mississippi Joe Callicott – “Cottonfield Blues” – DOWNLOAD MP3

Mississippi Joe Callicott – “Frankie And Albert” – DOWNLOAD MP3

Fred Neil (1936 – 2001)

Fred Neil was a fixture of the Greenwich Village folk scene and was regarded as a mentor figure by many of the more-famed musicians who came up during that time. He grew up in Florida and worked as a songwriter, which included tracks like “Come Back Baby” for Buddy Holly and “Candy Man” for Roy Orbison. He was an idiosyncratic figure, often frustratingly difficult to get to a gig or recording studio and suspicious of fame. But a number of famous musicians played with Neil, including Bob Dylan, David Crosby, John Sebastian and Stephen Stills.²

Neil stuck to a six-string guitar and was best known for his bass voice. He recorded five studio albums that have been released, of which Fred Neil is regarded as the best. Fred Neil carries his most famous composition, “Everybody’s Talkin’” which was famously covered by Harry Nilsson for the movie Midnight Cowboy. “The Dolphins” is another famous song off of this album and reveals Neil’s interest in dolphins, to which he devoted nearly thirty years of his time. His 1965 classic, entitled Bleecker and MacDougal features another popular composition, “Blues on the Ceiling”. Friends of Neil’s have revealed that he recorded several more albums during the 1970s which have yet to be released.³ He stopped recording in the ’70s and his last gig was in 1981 in Coconut Grove, Florida.

Purchase Fred Neil Albums on Amazon

Fred Neil – “Candy Man” – DOWNLOAD MP3

Fred Neil – “Everybody’s Talkin’” – DOWNLOAD MP3

Fred Neil – “The Dolphins” – DOWNLOAD MP3

Bix Beiderbecke (1903 – 1931)

Beiderbecke was a true rarity in the 1920s: a white and very successful Jazz musician who was held in high esteem by black musicians, many of whom were victims of discrimination. For that matter, he managed to create his own unique style of cornet playing, a considerable feat for any musician living in the shadow of Louis Armstrong. Legends surround Beiderbecke today, making it difficult to dispel myth from fact. He was born in Davenport, Iowa and musically interested from a young age. He apparently taught himself the cornet from listening to the Original Dixieland Jazz Band records and would sneak down to listen to bands playing on the riverboats, where he purportedly met Louis Armstrong.

Beiderbecke’s family was conservative but unable to rein him in, and he eventually ended up in Paul Whiteman’s orchestra. His playing was less bluesy and forceful than Armstrong’s, and many of his recordings come across as restrained and cool rather than hot. His most famous songs were “Singin’ the Blues,” recorded in 1927, and “Georgia On My Mind”, recorded just days before his death. Beiderbecke drank heavily and his health worsened over a few short years. In the 1970s, a sign of this alcoholism was found; an intern at NBC was going through the sheet music of the Paul Whiteman Orchestra and discovered a note written by the third trumpet at the solo, which said, “Wake up Bix”.⁴ After finally being kicked out of the Whiteman Orchestra in 1930, Beiderbecke died the following summer of lobar pneumonia, which was undoubtedly exacerbated by alcoholism. Years later, Miles Davis would interview people who had known Beiderbecke as he tried to capture his style.⁵

Purchase Bix Beiderbecke Albums on Amazon

Bix Biederbecke, Frank Trumbauer, and Jack Teagarden – “At The Jazz Ball” – DOWNLOAD MP3

Frank Trumbauer & His Orchestra Featuring Bix Biederbecke – “Singin’ The Blues” – DOWNLOAD MP3

Oscar Aleman (1909 – 1980)

Oscar Aleman has recently bounced back into the mainstream after one of his songs was used in the Woody Allen film Midnight in Paris; nevertheless, he remains sorely underappreciated. Born in Argentina, he began playing music at an early age and went to Europe in 1929. He was hired by Josephine Baker to play in her band in Paris and spent the next several years in France. During this time, he befriended the gypsy jazz guitarist Django Reinhardt. The two were so closely associated that Aleman often served as a backup whenever Django couldn’t be found by his bandmates, which apparently was a frequent occurrence. Tragically, despite their friendship, the two never recorded together. Aleman returned to Argentina during WWII and spent the remainder of his life there.

Aleman gets compared to Reinhardt frequently, but aside from their shared technical proficiency, the two were very different musicians. Aleman played in a wide variety of styles and brought a great many Latin techniques and styles into the recording studio. Even his South American influences were diverse, though, as his recordings included a Brazilian-influenced album of standards. He recorded prolifically, though American listeners may find it difficult to find hard copies of his music. A number of overlapping compilations are available, the best of which is Swing Guitar Masterpieces, 1938-1957. For starting tracks, I would suggest “Russian Lullaby”, “Darktown Strutters Ball”, and “Improvisaciones Sobre Boogie Woogie”.⁶

Purchase Oscar Aleman Albums on Amazon

Oscar Aleman – “Darktown Strutters Ball” – DOWNLOAD MP3

Oscar Aleman – “Russian Lullaby” – DOWNLOAD MP3

Oscar Aleman – “Improvisaciones Sobre Boogie Woogie” – DOWNLOAD MP3

Karen Dalton (1937 – 1993)

Everybody seems to agree that Karen Dalton was a “white Billie Holiday”, as I’ve seen on several forums and blogs. I hesitate to compare artists too much as I think it runs the risk of cheapening what makes one unique, but with these two, there are some apt comparisons to be made. Both had powerful voices with a relatively narrow range and a lot of expressiveness. Both also led hard lives marred by alcoholism and personal misfortunes. Karen Dalton was born in Enid, Oklahoma and had already been married twice by 21. She became part of the burgeoning Greenwich Village Folk Scene and spent time between New York and Colorado. Two albums were recorded before she faded into obscurity — one in 1969 and one in 1971. She died in 1993 from complications with AIDS.

Dalton has begun to enjoy a revival in recent years as previously unreleased fan-recordings and live concerts have made their way into the hands of record companies. The album I recommend to start out with isn’t one of her studio albums but Cotton Eyed Joe, a live album from 1962. She alternated between banjo and the twelve-string guitar while she sang, and this particular recording showcases this.⁷ The sound quality is also remarkably good, though not too good; at any given moment, you can tell she’s playing in a small folk club, which, for me, enhances the experience. Start with “It Hurts Me Too”, for her version has become the definitive one for that standard. “One May Morning” is another beautiful track that deserves your attention.

Purchase Karen Dalton Albums on Amazon

Karen Dalton – “It Hurts Me Too” – DOWNLOAD MP3

Karen Dalton – “One May Morning” – DOWNLOAD MP3

References
¹ Mississippi Joe Callicott Mississippi Blues Trail.
² Fred Neil: The Other Side Of Greenwich Village 60′s Folk Scene, Perfect Sound Forever.
³ Ric O’Barry, Fred Neil.
⁴ Wake Up Bix, mlkshk.
⁵ Bix Beiderbecke played with lyric beauty and had a different influence than Louis Armstrong., Jazz-Music-History.
⁶ Oscar Alemán: El Increible Swing, Classic Jazz Guitar.
⁷ In Her Own Time: The return of Karen Dalton, Austin Chronicle.

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music art film review - REDEFINE magazine

Forgotten Gems & Dusty Classics: Mississippi Joe Callicott, Fred Neil, Bix Beiderbecke, Oscar Aleman, Karen Dalton

Cyclopean
Cyclopean
Mute Records / Spoon Records (2013)

Named after an ancient construction style involving stacks of irregularly-shaped rocks, Cyclopean is an instrumental quartet comprised of Burnt Friedman, Jono Podmore, and two founding members of Can, Jaki Liebezeit and Irmin Schmidt. In line with their namesake, Cyclopean piece together disjointed building blocks to form sonic megaliths, as if to stress not just the importance of an impressive final form, but of minute attention to detail as well.

Repetition and minimalism go hand-in-hand on Cyclopean; finely-tuned percussive components and well-placed electronic drones, noises, and theremin textures comprise the foundation of the record. Though the EP initially weighs heavy, it grows increasingly airy as it progresses. By its end, it has been loosened from its restrictive ground tethers, ready to float off like a castle in the sky.

“Apostles”, the first of the four-track EP, finds Cyclopean very much bound to earth in a carnal sense. With its heavy reliance on simple rhythms and drum sounds, it seems to soundtrack a fire dance in the Australian outback or around an aboriginal cave dwelling. Move forward onto “Fingers”, and the same dark dancers remain — though here, much more ghostly, the affected parties already beginning to pass on from the solid earth into a more etheric world of washy textures. The track’s tangled instrumentation encourages introspection, its complexities functioning in the same way that the variable licks of a roaring fire might maze one’s mind. Something deliciously primitive sparks with Cyclopean, yet they maintain futuristic qualities at the same time, forming a contradictory new universe of “futureprimitive” soundscapes. These lands are in disarray but the wreckage can be beautiful, one soon finds; “Knuckles” opens with tinny drums scraping up against alien groans, but classic piano keys offer the first clear gleams of calm beneath a blanket of chaos.

Cyclopean is propelled forward by percussive momentum from its very beginning, but with “Knuckles”, the direction seems to shift noticeably. Whereas “Apostles” and “Fingers” seemed to champion the growth of a sprawling human construction, “Knuckles” marks the beginning of an upwards trajectory. The band’s wandering spirit now feels bound for the skies, with loftier goals than simply dancing around a fire or even staring blissfully into it. Here are moments of complete light and radiance with the twinkling of bells and keys; one is standing at heavenly gates, catching glimpses of eternity — though remnants of the underworld still creep in via dark sputtering and ghostly siren sounds. By the last track, “Weeks”, nearly all earth-bound heaviness has been shed, giving way to a nearly monastic symphony of chimes; wayward and mundane pleasures are now straightened into joys, full-on celebrations which leave one in the twinkling heavens.

Twenty-two-and-a-half minutes from when the record first began, one ends the journey, wondering how much further there is to rise after already floating so far up from the fire.

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Lansè Kòd (The Rope Throwers) 1996

Madanm Lasirèn (Madame Mermaid) 2003

Madanm Lasiren
Andre Ferner, 59 years

Lasiren is a spirit that lives under the sea and does mystical work there, she is a Vodou spirit, I dream of Lasiren all the time. That is the reason I do Lasiren for Mardi Gras. I chose Lasiren because my grandmother, father and mother all served the spirits, I love her & honour her. The baby that I carry in my arms is the child of Lasiren who is called Marie Rose. When I walk the streets I sing her song which goes ‘ I am Lasiren and I cry for Lasiren, when I work mystically in the night bad luck can come my way’.

I prepare for Lasiren by putting on a hat, a mask and carrying an umbrella. I put on a necklace and gloves. This necklace is called Mambo Welcome, it is a fetish. Because Lasiren is a fish she has to disguise herself as a woman to be at Mardi Gras. My mask and hat cover her fish’s head. And the dress she wears covers her fish’s tail. The chain I wear is a sacred chain. Each year I change the disguise and fashion a new baby. In order to get inspiration I go to the place where the big beasts live and they instruct me how to do Mardi Gras. I have been doing this for 18 years. Before that I did another Mardi Gras call Patoko. This was a group of men who were dressed as women, with a nice dresses and high heeled shoes. We did a marriage between men and woman on the street. After that we had a group called the duck who carried brushes in their hands wearing blue trousers, white t-shirts, new sandles and a scarf around our waists. We swept the streets of Jacmel. I have always found a way of doing a Mardi Gras.

(12 IMAGES TOTAL)

Esklav Yo (The Slaves) 2001

Jij (Judge) 1995

Gordon’s introduction to her series, Kanaval:

“Haiti seems to be on a fault line of history. Whilst much of the rest of the world seems to have efficiently papered over any cracks where history could accidentally seep, bubble or explode with a veneer of consumerism and wage slavery. Haitian culture is a potent vessel for this history, continually transmitting, telling, retelling and reinterpreting Haitian history. Though school fees are excessive for the majority of the Haitian people, and the education standards poor, you will be hard pushed to find a Haitian who doesn’t know the vast and intimate details of their own history.

Haiti’s history is not an easy one, but it is a significant and important one. It is the history of the decimation of the indigenous Taino Indians by the Spanish invaders. Subsequently it is the history of the most profitable, and correspondingly brutal, French colonial plantation system in the Caribbean, which was fuelled by the Transatlantic slave trade. The intensity of French barbarity in the pursuit of profit, coupled with whispers and rumours of the French Revolution in Europe, led to the Haitian revolution. This was an uprising of African and Creole ¹ slaves against the white plantation owners. By the late 18th century dissent was rife amongst the slave population. In 1791 the dissent came to a head and turned into a rebellion which led to a 13 year struggle for the freedom from slavery and finally independence.

Vodou was both the inspiration and precipitation of the long fight for Haiti’s independence. On 23rd August 1791 ², a Vodou priest called Boukman performed a ceremony at Bwa Kayman, in the north of Haiti. Slaves and maroons ³ gathered from all over the region. Boukman sacrificed a black pig for the African ancestors, and in its blood wrote the words ‘liberty or death’. Inspired and invigorated the slaves returned to their plantations and spread the message of rebellion. Within days the fertile plains of cash crops were burning with a passion for freedom that did not dampen until independence in 1804.

May 1803, former slave and rebel leader Jean-Jacques Dessalines dramatically created the flag of the black insurgents at the Congress of Arcahaie. He took the French tricolour of blue, white and red, and ripping the white out of it, declared he was ripping the white man out of the country. The red and blue were stitched together, the initials RF (Republique Française) were replaced by Liberté ou la Mort, ‘Liberty or Death’, and Haiti’s flag was born. Time was finally running out for the French rulers.

The diffusion and transmission of Haitian history uses the drums, songs, dances and possessive ritual of the Vodou religion. It uses the improvisational songs of Twobadou groups and the collective melodies and rhythms of Rara bands. Haitian history uses the words and poems of its great literary tradition and the unique visions of its painters, sculptors and flag makers. Haitian history, and not only the revolutionary history, is also replayed through the masks, costumes and narratives of the carnival in Jacmel.

Each year, Jacmel, a coastal town in Southern Haiti, holds pre-Lenten Mardi Gras festivities. Troupes of performers act out mythological and political tales in a whorish theatre of the absurd that courses the streets, rarely shackled by traditional parade. Whatever the carnival lacks in glitz and spectacle, it makes up for in home-grown surrealism and poetic metaphor. The characters and costume partially betray their roots in medieval European carnival, but the Jacmellien masquerades are also a fusion of clandestine Vodou, ancestral memory, political satire and personal revelation. The lives of the indigenous Taino Indians, the slave’s revolt and more recently state corruption, are all played out using drama and costume on Jacmel’s streets. There have been many times that the future of Jacmel’s carnival has appeared unstable, but it continues to struggle and survive. Haitian culture is tough and resilient, as it needs to be. It is a vibrant, living avatar for not only Haitian history, but for all our histories. Carnival is dead, long live Kanaval.

***************************************************************************************

This introduction was written two weeks before the dreadful earthquake in Haiti. I have been haunted by the almost prophetic first line. I decided I didn’t want to change it. The suffering on the human level and devestation on the material level in Port au Prince is hard to contemplate. All the churches have fallen and all the morgues are still standing. Many of the houses have fallen but all the tombs in the cemetery are standing. It is as if Death has won its bet against Man and God. The beautiful old town of Jacmel, where all these photographs have been taken, has been decimated. As I numbly traipse along what remains of the historic Grand Rue in downtown Port au Prince I realise that architecture has always been another avatar for history. In Haiti the material was always transient and weak, and now feels almost none existent, but the imaginative and creative is fierce. If there is a positive side, perhaps it is this, that people will sit up finally and really take notice of Haiti’s creativity. Haiti has so much to give and we really should be grateful that such a genuinely unique place exists. Kanaval is not Dead. Long Live Kanaval

¹ Caribbean born of African descent.
² Named International Day for the Remembrance of the Slave Trade and its Abolition by UNESCO.
³ Runaway slaves living in remote mountainous areas in close-knit communities.”

Kouvrefe (Curfew) 2009

Bounda Pa Bounda (Cheek by Arse) 2003

Chaloska (Charles Oscar) 1998

Chaloska (Charles Oscar)
Eugene Lamour a.k.a. Boss Cota, 61 years

The Chief Charles Oscar was a military commandant in charge of the police in Jacmel. He died here in 1912. He was tall and strong with big feet and teeth and feared by all. At a time when there was political instability in Port-au-Prince, when President Sam had just been assassinated, Charles Oscar took his chance to take 500 prisoners from the local jail and kill them all. There was so much blood it made a river of death. The population was so angry that that revolted and tore the police chief to pieces in the street and burned him down. He was killed in the same violent way that he had treated the people.

This story has always been very striking to me, and in 1962, I decided to create the character of Chaloska for Carnival. I designed the military uniform and made the big false teeth with bull’s teeth bought from the market. Each year I change the costume a little by designing a different hat for the group to wear.

When I created Chaloska I also wanted to create some other characters to go along with him. I created Master Richard and Doctor Calypso. Master Richard is a rich man with a big bag full of money and a huge fat stomach. He walks with the group of Chaloska buying justice and paying the judges. He represents the impunity and corruption that hides behind Chaloska and is the real chief of the city. Doctor Calypso is an old hunch back with a black suit and a stick in his hand. He works for Chaloska and checks on the health of the prisoners, always reporting that they are healthy when they are dying.

These characters are still here in Haitian society so it is good to parade them on the street. It is a message to all future Oscars that you will end up this way. The group goes to different places in town threatening the people. The boss Chaloska always finally dies, and the others call for mercy as they are cowards, but then another Chaloska immediately replaces him. This is to show the infinite replication of Chaloska which continue to produce the same system. There will be Chaloska until the end of the world. They started with the beginning and will not end until the end.

Pa Wowo (The Way of Wowo) 2004

Pa Wowo (The dance steps of Roro)
Edmond Paul, 30 years

Pa Wowo is a Mardi Gras that I’ve been doing for a long time. It is part playing around and part theatre on the streets of Jacmel. We try to create an ambiance of festivity. Pa Wowo has created a character, a role he plays scenes just like theatre, as it’s an ancient Mardi Gras. He has a pipe because in the past all peasants had pipes in their mouths. He has a skirt of leaves because it is part of his disguise. The skirt is a symbol and the skirt means everything. It is the best symbolic costume for the Pa Wowo because he doesn’t have any family, he doesn’t have any thing, no-one to help him, not even the possibility of his own clothes to wear. So Pa Wowo represents someone who has nothing, no-one, nowhere to stay and no money. Truly people understand my message, which is if you have something you must help those with nothing. I have done this Mardi Gras for 15 years. I decided to do it to give continuity when the last person that used to do it died. I’m not sure it will continue after I am gone but I am always fighting to do it whilst I still can. Over the years Mardi Gras has a lot of sections missing and I’m doing Pa Wowo to make sure that carnival has a good power and to make sure that Jacmel shows a good face to the world. Because firstly I am a Jacmellian. But you know exactly if we keep trying perhaps Jacmel carnival is the best in the world. We feel that carnival in Jacmel is important for the face of Haiti in the world but it is always a fight as the government never supports us.

Zèl Maturin (The Wings of Maturin) 1995

Zel Maturin (The Wings of Mathurin: character from the St. Michel Mardi Gras)
Ronald Bellevue, 40 years

We did not invent this story. It came from older people, but we are keeping the tradition going. As a child I was scared to death of the Zel Maturin but the very next thing I wanted to see was to see them again. My favorite Zel Maturin is the red devil as he is always the strongest, most resistant and goes on until the end of the play.

The play is a fight between good and evil. The first scene has people with suits, ties, tuille masks and bibles all kneeling and praying. In the second scene St Michel the Archangel come from heaven to give them protection. With him are other angels in pink satin dresses and a small angel in blue and white. Then the Zel Maturin arrive to steal the angels.

There is a long procession of Zel Maturin but St Michel kills them by using his mighty sword. The strongest devil, the red devil, myself, arrives. This devil fights much harder but after a long struggle he is finally killed. All the devils lie dead on the street conquered by St Michel the Archangel. But then the black devil arrives. He is bigger than the others and wearing chains. He is chained mystically because his mystic powers are so strong that he must be restrained. He carries a skull and presents it to the four cardinal points and hits the red devil three times. Once the red devil is revived all the other devils leap awake. The black devil is a Vodou devil whereas the other devils are just Christian devils. The Vodou devil has greater forces than the Christian devils. As you can see from the masks on the wall I am not exactly a bible person, well you don’t play the part if you don’t like the part.

Gason Bo Kote Lanmè-a (Boy by the Sea) 2000

Nèg ak Konk (Man with Conch Shell Horn) 2001

Fantonm (The Phantom) 2009

All photographs are shot on black and white film on a Roleiicord 2 ¼ sq camera and are 95cm sq Giclee Prints on Hahnemuhle Fine Art Paper mounted onto di-bond aluminium.

Gordon’s book, Kanaval: Vodou, Politics and Revolution on the Streets of Haiti is also available for purchase on Amazon.

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music art film review - REDEFINE magazine

Leah Gordon’s Kanaval Takes A Photographic Look At Haiti’s Carnival Via Mythology, History & Oral Traditions

Karen Knorr

In Karen Knorr’s India Song series, she digitally inserts rare and wild animals, from cranes and tigers to elephants, in ornate north Indian buildings.

Where Yun-Fei Tou’s appeal to human nature is more obvious (below), Knorr’s is more veiled and steeped in cultural knowledge. According to her website, “The photographic series considers men’s space (mardana) and women’s space (zanana) in Mughal and Rajput palace architecture, havelis and mausoleums through large format digital photography.”

Yun-Fei Tou

For his Memento Mori series, Taiwanese photographer Yun-Fei Tou has taken over 40,000 portraits of dogs just hours away from euthanization. By seating the dogs in upright, human-like positions, they become almost human-like, giving viewers more to relate to.

“I believe something should not be told but should be felt,” says Tou, in an interview with Huffington Post. “And I hope these images will arouse the viewers to contemplate and feel for these unfortunate lives, and understand the inhumanity we the society are putting them through.”

Tou’s statement on the Memento Mori is the following:

Utilizing the classic portrait style that originated in the early 19th century with the birth of photography as an art form, these photographs offer the viewer a chance to look attentively into a bleak future. These dogs are essentially dead and their souls are hours or minutes away from non-existence. These portraits reflect a formal construct or platform through which the viewer and the dog communicate, using exchanged gazes to create a forced contemplation.

Photographic images allow us to contemplate. Through contemplation, we gain an understanding of the uniqueness and nobility of life. Through contemplation, we understand how chaotic and disordered the world has become.

The moment when a photographer chooses to release the shutter during a shooting session, or when carefully selecting an image from a body of work about the same subject matter, these acts, the releasing of the shutter and the editing of a selection, lead to subjective choices and reveal a bias. In the same token, every viewer has an inborn nature that is unique and possesses personal experiences that also reflect different values. Therefore, when different viewers face the same image, it is inevitable that they produce wide ranges of responses from the minute to radical to drastic differences in sentiment, interpretation, meaning and/or intent.

However, from the point of view of the subject portrayed in a photograph, these biases, prejudices, and even different sentiments can be perceived as a form of manipulation. It is often times these distortions and/or misinterpretations that offer richness in the various degrees of reality. The photographic image is merely a vehicle of communication that can lead to a better understanding of a situation, an event, of ourselves and of the world around us.

In viewing these specific images, one looks directly into the eyes of the dog and the dog looks back. These images reflect the last opportunity to look. This is a final and decisive moment. Death is eminent and all that is asked of the viewer is to engage, to recognize the common bonds and to honor the resemblances between our lives.

Knorr’s statement on the series is as follows:

Karen Knorr’s past work from the 1980’s onwards took as its theme the ideas of power that underlie cultural heritage, playfully challenging the underlying assumptions of fine art collections in academies and museums in Europe through photography and video. Since 2008 her work has taken a new turn and focused its gaze on the upper caste culture of the Rajput in India and its relationship to the “other” through the use of photography, video and performance. The photographic series considers men’s space (mardana) and women’s space (zanana) in Mughal and Rajput palace architecture, havelis and mausoleums through large format digital photography.

Karen Knorr celebrates the rich visual culture, the foundation myths and stories of northern India, focusing on Rajasthan and using sacred and secular sites to consider caste, femininity and its relationship to the animal world. Interiors are painstakingly photographed with a large format Sinar P3 analogue camera and scanned to very high resolution. Live animals are inserted into the architectural sites, fusing high resolution digital with analogue photography. Animals photographed in sanctuaries, zoos and cities inhabit palaces, mausoleums , temples and holy sites, interrogating Indian cultural heritage and rigid hierarchies. Cranes, zebus, langurs, tigers and elephants mutate from princely pets to avatars of past feminine historic characters, blurring boundaries between reality and illusion and reinventing the Panchatantra for the 21st century.

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During the 1960s, a flood of immigration brought thousands of Turks from their homeland to Germany, with promises of well-paying career opportunities. Without cultural context, one might find such a German and Turkish association to be bizarre — but when given historical context, which the heartwarming and humorous Almanya — Willkommen in Deutschland provides, one begins to understand the fascinating culture surrounding that population, which has now spent decades in a foreign country.

Almanya documents the story of a Turkish family, headed by a grandpa who has seen his children grow to father more children in Germany. Each member of the large family seems to hold a different opinion about his or her Turkish-German upbringing and personal degree of assimilation — so when grandpa declares over dinner that he has purchased a home in Turkey and would like to take a family trip for everyone to see it, he is met with much resistance. Even his wife of many years is surprised and disappointed by the news. To this, he sternly questions, “Have I ever asked anything of you?” and the family falls silent, only to eventually acquiesce to grandpa’s will. From there, the film flies through timelines and decades, recapping the family’s immigration from Turkey to Germany with all of the pomp and romanticism that all who dream of a new opportunities no doubt have. But while the film humorously spotlights the excitement of grandpa’s past, it also expresses, on the behalf of both the grandparents and their Turkish-born children, a sense of nostalgia for a motherland that lies as a gateway between Europe and Asia.

SEE FULL FILM REVIEW AND TRAILER

ALMANYA FILM REVIEW CONTINUES BELOW

The first half of Almanya is mostly fun and games, but the film’s cultural relevance truly becomes apparent once the family goes to Turkey. There, family chemistries are examined and mixed-culture dynamics become fertile breeding grounds for both profound ideas and great misunderstandings. The film oscillates back and forth between Turkish and German; and with seemingly no rhyme or reason guiding their language choices, the speech becomes reminiscent of dreams — or even more abstractly, the intangible ambiguities where cultures collide. When it is not being exceptionally humorous, Almanya stirs up serious sentiments by raising questions about family, dedication to family, and cultural belonging on an individual as well as mass scale. One is left musing over what culture really is — whether it is steeped in language or tradition, or if it is a sense of oneself.

Glimpses into the lives of family members serve as clues in unraveling this mystery, which has answers that vary with each and every person. Grandma’s simple modesty and child-like giddiness at finally receiving her German passport becomes adorable; grandpa’s severity proves itself to be the necessary strong arm in the family. One feels deeply for the children who departed from Turkey at a young age only to remain eternally confused about their place between two countries, and for the second-generation Turkish-German child whose city of origin, Anatolia, is so foreign to Germans that it is excluded from his classroom’s all-Europe map.

Despite being a seemingly unlikely cultural comedy-drama, Almanya proves time and time again that it is a film that breaks new ground. Whether poking fun at the sausage and potato-eating ways of Germans or hilariously showing the lack of modern sanitation facilities in Almanya, its jokes are simultaneously closed-minded and very sympathetic — a duality wherein anyone with even a bit of context about Islam or the differences between German and Turkish cultures will agree: Almaya is impartial in its teasing. It is a film that boldly bridges cultural gaps while celebrating ethnic eccentricities, and it succeeds in a way that only a film crew respectful and knowledgeable about both German and Turkish culture can.

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1. Once Upon A Time In Anatolia (2011) Film Review
2. The Wave / Die Welle (2008) Film Review
3. Portland International Film Festival 2012: Festival Preview Guide, Part One

music art film review - REDEFINE magazine

Almanya – Welcome To Germany (Almanya – Willkommen in Deutschland) (2011) Film Review

SEE FULL REVIEW

Like its namesake, the film was not entirely one thing, but fully engaging as a combination of several features: live storytelling, illustrative media, and apt, adept scoring. Green’s charismatic personality made for a magnetic narration – funny, quick-witted, with an underlying poignancy that he’s undoubtedly developed over his own career that’s spanned a roster of documentaries like the Oscar-nominated chronicle of the radical late ‘60s group, The Weather Underground, as well as a similarly-scoped “live documentary” called Utopia in Four Movements, that was performed at the 2010 Sundance Film Festival.

The dreamy noise-pop of band Yo La Tengo was a perfect blanket for the audience to lay on and marvel at the film’s figure and his on-screen ephemera. The trio is no stranger to scores, having provided soundtracks to works like the undersea landscapes of surrealist French director Jean Painlevé. The jump seems only natural, to move from sonic illustrations of alien waters to adding color and dimension to quirky relics from Fuller’s abundant life. Their Mark Mothersbaugh-esque melody for the documentary’s opening sequence – images of a geodesic dome in flight – laid the sweet-but-slightly-kooky groundwork for the touching, strange, and extraordinary voyage that the audience is led through for the duration of the film.

We were introduced to Fuller’s incredible “Dymaxion Chronofile” – the largest collection of personal files belonging to any human being in history. Dymaxion is a Fuller vocabulary favorite, a combination of “dynamic”, “maximum”, and “tension”, and what a better way to describe a painstaking collection of every document that the man had ever come in contact with over the course of 63 years? The cycling through of these artifacts, comprised of notes, sketches, bills, film reels, clippings, etc., made the presentation more like a PowerPoint or TED talk, rather than a simple theater outing. It’s worth saying that the program itself was short — less than an hour — which stands in contrast to Fuller’s tendency to speak for hours on end (he once delivered a 42-hour lecture, humbly titled “Everything I Know”). In that time, we see the origin of Fuller’s quest to enact change (sparked by the tragic loss of his young daughter), the boom and bust of his various innovative endeavors, and his rise to relative fame for his uncomplicated but salient vision of almost utopian, sustainable living. Green led the audience through a timeline of various ups and downs, including moments of doubt in which Fuller doesn’t appear to be as iconoclastic as one might hope. Green scans through the files, the film, and plays some archival footage alongside some interviews that create a loose sketch of the figure that is Fuller.

But perhaps the most remarkable thing about Fuller is that he didn’t “achieve” much by common standards. He is mostly known for the design of the geodesic dome, which has well contributed to the field of architectural design but did not have the far-reaching effects that he had hoped for. We’re not all shacked up in domes, and our skylines are still primarily straight lines to the heavens. He was, however, a creature intensely convicted that an individual could enact palpable change in the world, and become indefatigable exemplification of the human spirit and willpower. The myth of the man was not necessarily in his actions (and in fact his resume includes a number of fantastic failures and near or total disasters), but in his ideas for sustainability and service that continue to have relevance in our world today – and that in itself is an accomplishment. It’s hard to imagine not being somewhat seduced by the mythos surrounding Fuller after his story was filtered through the thoughtful, affecting handling of Green and his musical collaborators. The tender oeuvre, in itss brief but touching run, was an elating practice in examining the extraordinary life of a man and the potential of his ideas.

Radio Documentary Series

The Green World Of R. Buckminster Fuller Film Trailer

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music art film review - REDEFINE magazine

TBA Festival 2012: The Love Song Of R. Buckminster Fuller Live Documentary Performance Review

The Congos

“Fisherman” From Heart Of The Congos

Ashanti Roy Of The Congos

Unfortunately, my interview with Ashanti Roy was recorded unintelligibly as there was some technical difficulty or other at work. I can tell you, however, that this interview did indeed happen, that I will recount it, and that it is completely in keeping with the rest of the processes by which this record was made that Ashanti and co. would be involved in a personal and candid exchange only to have it pieced together and retold by a young white dude from the US.

As you may have seen in the Sun Araw / M. Geddes Gengras portion of the interview, the parties involved got together and made some musics — and then the aforementioned dudes went home and made a beautiful record after months of exhausting work. They later returned to The Congos’ home in Jamaica and played the record for them, to everyone’s delight. (No criticism is being leveled here, for in both cases the situation trumped the intentions. Things are kind of funny that way.)

Congo Ashanti Roy assured me that the recording of Icon Give Thank was a harmonious event. I asked him about the mystical nature of the music and how it seems to be a world distinct from those conjured by both Sun Araw and The Congos’ respective back catalogs. He responded by saying simply that The Congos make spiritual music. When we began to talk about past Congos releases like Swinging Bridge and Back tn the Black Ark, he was happy to tell me about working with Lee “Scratch” Perry for the first time since Heart of the Congos. But he had less to say about Icon Give Thank. In fact, he didn’t even know what the record was called (I learned this when I asked him what it meant) or that it had been released. What he did tell me that he was looking forward to The Congos’ show with Sun Araw in London, and that he thought fans of The Congos would like the new album (“The Congos are a very famous band,” he said. “We’re professionals.”)

While I couldn’t help but feel a little special that I got to deliver some news about the record to the man, I felt a little suspicious of the whole enterprise. Had he maybe forgotten? Had he actually not been told? Did he not care? Not for me to say, I guess, as I have little information on the matter. I don’t mean to accuse anyone involved in the project of any sort of dickery, either; both Sun Araw and M. Geddes Gengras seemed utterly authentic in their enthusiasm for the collaboration. Still, the questions…

In any case, Icon Give Thank is awesome. And I should leave this with a note that I am supremely grateful to have had the opportunity to speak with Ashanti Roy. Cliché as it may be, Heart of the Congos changed shit for me, and I let Ashanti Roy know that at the risk of sounding amateurish, because come on, how many chances do we get to talk to the people who impact our lives from afar?

- Troy Micheau, REDEFINE

 

NOTE FROM THE EDITOR
The above sidebar was deeply contested and criticized by the other parties in this interview, for its insinuations and lack of respect for Ashanti Roy as well as the project in general. We attempted shortly thereafter to change some wording, to represent a more sympathetic view on behalf of the American artists, but were then criticized, very appropriately, for not adding an additional note about the fact that we had changed the original article. The piece you now see above is the originally published sidebar, free from changes. It is up to you to decide whether you think the questions we have raised are worthwhile or if they are a journalistic attempt at getting a scoop. We will acknowledge that if we were to be given the chance to write it again, the severity of the article would indeed change. We did not set out with the intention of disrespecting anyone and are deeply apologetic that the parties involved feel disrespected. Nonetheless, while it was certainly not necessary to question the validity of the entire enterprise, the data we received from all perspectives naturally led to such speculation. Whether that speculation was warranted is for you to decide, and we encourage you to look at other articles such as this one from The Fader to decide for yourself. Thank you. - Vivian Hua

Sun Araw & M. Geddes Gengras

Fans might look at your record and think, “Sun Araw’s awesome and The Congos are awesome,” but people who do improvised music know it’s not as easy as two rad people getting together. How was it working with these guys? Did the ideas flow easily or did you have to carve them out? Did you feel that your different backgrounds — artistically, intellectually, spiritually, culturally — work with the process or hinder it?

SUN ARAW: That exact thing, exactly. I don’t know how much you know about the circumstances of us going down there; there wasn’t a lot of information. We really didn’t know the nature of the collaboration either; we thought we might put together a band of people down there… we were open to all possibilities because we really didn’t know; the whole thing came together so quickly. What happened was, very clearly what you said, at that point, in a situation that disparate, culturally, those unifying principles do appear, and that is what appeared. We just met and worked in the way that we work. We made a very conscious decision to just do what we do and not do something else because that seems like a really bad idea, obviously, and we managed to make good and find a connection with them.

M. GEDDES GENGRAS: I think also that those differences kinda made the collaboration what it was. That sort of exact disparity you talk about, in music experience and all these things, kind of led to both us and the Congos reaching to places we wouldn’t normally access as musicians because we were kinda thrown into this situation of having to make a record really fast with people we had never met before in a strange place in a sense, so you can kinda fight all the things that are making it hard or confusing or weird, or you could let it go. We knew that if… we stressed about it and thought about it too much nothing was going to get done, but if we just worked like we are used to working… Cameron and I are both pretty prolific musicians. We work fast, and we work a lot, so we’re used to doing that. I think it was pretty easy for us to get into that rhythm down there and kind of just let the other stuff sort of ride… and knew that as we got to know them, as artists and as people, that that stuff would get worked out.

 
The film that came with the documentary really makes one feel like one’s in the process with you guys. How did being in Jamaica in general, in The Congos recordings studio, or around all those different people, like the children, the different guys who are hanging out — how did that contribute to the overall feel of the record?

M. GEDDES GENGRAS: In a really practical way, I think the studio shaped the record completely, because we were working with a pretty limited set of resources, and things we would normally have access to, like amplifiers, weren’t there. The sound of the record was really born out of the situation in which we recorded it — plugging everything directly into the desk, which is not a way that Cameron and I would normally record guitars or things like that, so that was an interesting experience. Part of being there and in that space with them was kind of respecting the history and respecting the culture they come from, and really trying to pay tribute to that. It’s everywhere around you; you can see in the movie that [the studio] is covered in Rastafarian imagery, photographs, and posters. Legends of Jamaican music. You’re just kind of sitting there, surrounded by this, and it just kind of sinks into you after a while, how heavy that is and how real that is.

SUN ARAW: The film, I think, is a really accurate depiction I think of what it’s like to just be there. Everything that you experience in that film is obviously what we were going through in every direct way. One thing that I think [Tony] did a really good job of getting were the soundscapes there, because there’s always five or six prominent sort of melodic noises happening at once, including probably three or four different sound systems from different people’s yards, and street noise, and children noise, and nature noise, and all this stuff. It’s just this constant collage; even at night, it’s really loud there, which is not something I expected. But it’s so beautiful. And I think that’s sort of the way that a lot of us are used to hearing anyway — but I think that being there in such an amplified way — because it was so foreign, just the nature of the noise — it kind of created some of the spaces on the record, too. That’s a lot of how I work — disparate thing working together in different ways.

M. GEDDES GENGRAS: With the film, the one criticism from multiple people was that there was not much of a narrative arc, but my response to that is that our trip did not have much of a narrative arc, either. It’s just like, man, that’s what it looked like; that’s what it felt like. There’s just a lot of days where you don’t know what’s going on, you don’t know who these people are that you’re interacting with. For me, it’s the truest reflection of the experience, moreso than the record even, because the record is this construct that we made, whereas the film is a really honest document of being there and what actually happened and how the record came together.

Sun Araw & M. Geddes Gengras

Did you feel any sense of connecting with that other time, or any sort of responsibility or desire to incorporate traditional reggae or dub elements into this record?

M. GEDDES GENGRAS: We didn’t really have to, because the connection was right there in the room with us. Those guys — working with those four guys — that’s the connection right there. They brought that tradition, and they brought that thing to it, which allowed us to open up and to be even more free and to ourselves, because we knew they would be rooted by these vocals. It’s such a powerful thing. When you hear it, instantly, that recognition is so real — to me, at least, and I think to other people too.

SUN ARAW: Yeah. We both work really intuitively, so we don’t really think about those things when they’re happening at all. But I do think that — I have talked to people about it before, and we both kind of build in ways that are somewhat similar and influenced by the ways of a lot of producers who worked in the ‘70s — but almost out of the same necessity of having limited resources, you know? There’s a lot of things that I sort of do when I record myself — and on this record, too, that are sort of in that mode, but it is only because it was the only thing I could figure out to do with what I had, you know?

Were there any tricks you learned from having limited resources that might stick with you in your regular work?

SUN ARAW: The big challenge there, as Ged said earlier, was that there weren’t a lot of mics, so we were recording directly into the board, which is sort of something that neither of us would ever do, but that’s why the album sounds like it does. And we had two pieces of analog gear that we could run between. This weird limitation because a really explanation for the whole texture of the record which has a pretty unique texture in both of our catalogs; there’s not a lot of stuff we’ve recorded that sounds like that, in particular. The structure is similar, but the sounds are very different.

It doesn’t really sound like it just went into the board, so, good job.

SUN ARAW: Thanks, man. We worked on it a lot. We brought it back to L.A.

M. GEDDES GENGRAS: We made the record in nine days, and we mixed it in six months, so that’s how that goes. We tried to do it ourselves, and we just kind of banged our heads against the wall with it for months. [We] got it to the point where it kind of sounded the way we wanted it to and we were happy with it, [but] we knew there was an extra step we could take… it had been inside our heads for six months, and we wanted someone to take a look at it and help us out with it. So we got this guy, Butchy Fuego, who does recording and mixing stuff in LA. We ended up working with him, and we did two kinda marathon-style sessions where we just finalized the mix of the record. He really took it to the next level and got it ready for release in a way that we just, at that point, certainly were not capable of doing. So much respect to him for putting that gloss on it and kinda getting everything exactly where it needed to be.

I can totally understand spending six months on something and being too close to it to work on it very well.

M. GEDDES GENGRAS: We didn’t even know what it was still at that point. I still think that, in a way, neither of us even know what it is, so it’s kind of nice to put it in front of somebody else and be like, “What do you think this is?” to kind of give you that little extra push.

Did you guys send mixes to the Congos at all? Did they have any input at all on the final mix?

M. GEDDES GENGRAS: We gave them rough mixes right before we left, which kind of had all of the elements in place, but… not a lot of processing had been done. But really, we cut it, brought it home, and they didn’t really hear it again until it was mastered. They trusted us, I guess, and it’s kind of the role between producer and recording artist is kind of different certainly in the traditional reggae industry. The producer has a lot more control. We were sort of left to our own devices to mix it, and we brought it back to them — actually, we were there again this past December, and we all got to sit out in the yard and listen to it together, so they were listening to it for the first time, which was a pretty crazy, nerve-wracking experience, but I think everybody was pretty happy.

Was the second trip back more of a relaxed thing since you weren’t really working and were only really presenting a thing you’d done together?

M. GEDDES GENGRAS: Yeah, it was completely relaxing, pretty much.

I can both hear both of your previous works in the record, but it definitely has more of a, let’s say, mystical quality to it. How do you guys see this fitting into your discographies?

SUN ARAW: I agree there’s a weird quality to the record that’s really hard to put your finger on, because the whole experience was, for us personally, a gateway. The time in my life that it came, the things that I experienced there, and the personal connections to things that I had been experiencing… I don’t know. It’s just something that’s really hard to put your finger on, but it’s in there in a weird way, and it continues to. It was a powerful moment in a lot of people’s lives, and I think it’s going to continue to do that. I think that’s really in the record in a lot of strange ways, because there was no attempt to put it there. It’s just in there because it was evidence of what was actually going down.

M. GEDDES GENGRAS: We were surrounded by so much of this incredible… You talk about the mystic quality to it, and you go there, and that’s everywhere. Like, walking to the store; that’s what the record feels like to me: us walking to the store to buy a bottle of water. That was like everything, and it just couldn’t help but bleed in because we were living there.

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Related posts:

1. Multicultural Sounds: Sun Araw, M. Geddes Gengras, The Congos (Jamaica) + Sidi Touré (Mali)
2. Trip Report Mixtape (#17) Stream & Download
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music art film review - REDEFINE magazine

I and I: A Collective Interview With Sun Araw, M. Geddes Gengras, Tony Lowe & The Congos

Lumerians

Oakland’s Lumerians have an upcoming release from Permanent Records in the USA and Hands In The Dark Records in Europe Transmissions From Telos: Vol.IV, out on July 5th. According to Lumerians, the EP is one of “lost orphan songs, hand-picked from [a] overwhelmingly vast improvisation archive. The first in a series of radiation burnt offerings.”

Pre-Order From Hands In The Dark (Starting May 29).

Midday Veil

Back in March, Seattle’s Midday Veil gave REDEFINE the luxury of premiering “Choreia” from their upcoming full-length record. It’s streaming below, and you can grab the entire mixtape HERE. We will definitely supply further details on the release as they come to light, but for now, enjoy this one, as it takes some extra liberties with space and stretched-out experimentation than Midday Veil’s more pop-structured songs do. The record is also produced by Northwest luminary Randall Dunn (SUNN 0))) & Master Musicians of Bukkake).

Midday Veil – “Choreia” – DOWNLOAD MP3

Father Yod & The Source Family

Most of this album is novel listening, an archival relic of historical counterculture (I’d personally skip the first two and move right onto “The Goddess Earth”). The cult surrounding Father Yod, psychedelic music-making and free-loving as it is, sparks much debate. The Thought Adjusters is the latest release from Father Yod & The Source Family and the third archival Source Family release by Drag City. The record comes out May 22nd, and you can stream it in its entirety below.

A recent documentary film, The Source, has helped to spark more dialogue about the cult’s history, principles, and significance. The Source is showing at Seattle International Film Festival 2012 this month and next.

Quoted from a fascinating article from KCET Artbound:

The Source Family was led by a bearded visionary called Father Yod, who lived with his 14 “spiritual wives” in a mansion in Nichols Canyon alongside around 140 other family members, operating LA’s first health food restaurant ‘The Source’ on the Sunset Strip (featured in Woody Allen’s Annie Hall), and living by “Aquarian” principles of love, whole foods, Eastern and Western spiritual teachings, and rock ‘n’ roll. This year, thanks to Wille’s documentary, The Source (it premiered in March at SXSW, with more screenings planned in San Francisco and LA), the cosmic ripples started by the book in 2007 are set to reach an even wider audience of New Aquarians and future “Yodheads”. But unlike the Source family Aquarians of the 1970s, who lived, ate and slept together, dotingly hanging on to Father Yod’s every word, these New Aquarians are decidedly postmodern, a brightly-hued collage of inter-connected individuals who aren’t looking for a guru, but are bonded by their common appreciation of the Source’s radness. Some of them have taken on Aquarian names; they connect at rock shows, gallery openings, at parties under desert night skies, and on Facebook; they design Source-inspired clothing and make Father Yod-inspired art, tuning into the Source on their own terms, in a way that doesn’t require them to actually drop out…not yet, anyway.

SEE FULL ARTICLE

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2. Midday Veil – “Choreia” Music Video Premiere
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music art film review - REDEFINE magazine

Spectral Hypnosis: Lumerians, Midday Veil, Father Yod MP3 Downloads & Streams

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music art film review - REDEFINE magazine

Matthew Craven FRGMNTS at Gallery Hijinks

The prayer flags in this image are wind horses; they are called རླུང་རྟ་ — or lungta. They serve as an allegory for the human soul, and now ritually used as a symbol of well-being and good fortune in Tibet.

The mountain range of Mount Ti Se (གངས་ཏེ་སེའི་རི་རྒྱུད or gangs te se’i ri rgyud/ gangté serigyü). Also called the Kailash Mountain Range.

Brief Q&A With Photographer Jan Reurink

Your images are often landscape shots or portraits of people, which, in themselves, do not carry much political weight. Yet a lot of your descriptions on Flickr are matched up with news stories of a somewhat political or historical nature. Asides from visual beauty, what are things that you hope to convey with your imagery?

For everyone to see and find out the history of Tibet, as in the early days and the present day. I want to show Tibet. I have never experienced [Bad Tibetans]; Tibetans are always open and friendly. Tibetan culture is disappearing very quickly. I try to capture Tibet mostly for Tibetans in exile everywhere in the world. Once a Tibetan lady who lives in exile, mailed me [and said] she found her brother on several photos (I send her some).

How would you say is the general attitude and the spirit of the people in Tibet on a day-to-day basis? How much do relations with China affect them?

If Europe were still occupied by the Third Reich, everything would be changed: street names, city names, region names, province names, and even your own country name. This is happening in Tibet; the occupier named this country Xizang. [The name] Xizang is recognized world-wide on maps, magazines, and so forth. By doing this, the [Tibetan] culture and their identity will be lost.

What role do you think color plays in life in Tibet, and has it changed your perception of color?

Like many things in Tibet, it is strongly connected with Buddhism, the color Blue symbolizes sky/space, white symbolizes air/wind, red symbolizes fire, green symbolizes water, and yellow symbolizes earth. This is for prayer flags. For me, color is optimistic; it can be bright, it gives depth, and can highlight a picture. I like color like the Tibetans do.

What is it that keeps you coming back to this place?

As with the landscape, nature and the Tibetans, it is original. There is something in their eyes of peace, openness and friendliness; that is the nature of Tibet.

Ganden Monastery — or དགའ་ལྡན་ — is one of the “great three” Gelukpa university monasteries of Tibet, located at the top of Wangbur Mountain. It is the original monastery of the Geluk order, founded by Buddhist teacher Je Tsongkhapa in 1409, and considered to be the seat of Geluk administrative and political power.

Here, Oṃ maṇi padme hūṃ, the Tibetan sanskrit scripture, is painted on an old pool table.

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music art film review - REDEFINE magazine

Tibet : With Scenery And Colors Like These, No Wonder Photographer Jan Reurink Keeps Coming Back.