Category: Visual Arts

REVIEW: Blue Velvet

Abigail Goodman Leave a comment

When I was 15 years old, my life changed forever when my dad took me by the shoulders, looked me in the eye, and said “Watch Blue Velvet. Trust me.”

At the moment, I wasn’t quite aware that he was prompting me to watch a two-hour psychosexual meditation on the dark underbelly lurking beneath society’s surface, featuring sado-masochism, drug-addled perverts, and erotic blackmail. But watch it I did. Then I closed my laptop and stared up at the ceiling for an hour contemplating my newly-lost innocence. 

David Lynch, the celebrated director of Blue Velvet who recently passed away at the age of 78, was a giant of filmmaking. In movies like Blue Velvet, Mulholland Drive, Twin Peaks: Fire Walk With Me, and Eraserhead, Lynch introduced audiences to revolutionary ways of seeing the world. I always suspected that Lynch was some kind of hologram placed on Earth by an advanced alien species, hovering somewhere between genius and madness, meant to transport us mortals into a higher plane of existence. His filmmaking talent even added a word to our lexicon – “Lynchian” – meant to connote surrealism that uses a dreamlike aesthetic to expose malice, absurdity, or hypocrisy in society. This “uncanny valley” quality that Lynch’s films embodied earned him a cult following as well as mainstream appeal. 

Nowhere are these Lynchian elements more at play than in Blue Velvet, released in 1986. The film features Dorothy (Isabella Rossellini), a battered woman blackmailed into sexual slavery by the sadistic Frank (Dennis Hopper). In an ironic twist, Frank’s games reveal masochistic urges repressed deep in Dorothy’s psyche. She is simultaneously repelled and titillated, expressing these conflicting emotions by initiating a sadomasochistic relationship with the clean-cut Jeffrey (Kyle MacLachlan), who is ashamed of his urges but drawn to the alluring older woman. The three characters – Frank, Dorothy, and Jeffrey – exit society’s confines and enter a lusty place of debauchery and degeneracy. 

Through colorful metaphors, a haunting score, and cast members that are clearly willing to bare all for the sake of art, Blue Velvet earned its place in film history. The marriage of surrealism and erotica, tragedy and eros, death and love – these are philosophical concepts that artistic leaders have wrestled with for millennia. More recent films featuring BDSM dynamics, like Secretary, Fifty Shades of Grey, and Babygirl, can only aspire to the emotional power that Blue Velvet oozes. Each scene is perfectly calibrated to press the audience’s buttons. So enduring is the film’s appeal that the Michigan Theater specifically chose to play it to honor Lynch’s legacy. This type of masterpiece earns either one star or five stars, but nobody leaves the theater without an opinion. 

There is only one filmmaker who can somehow master horror, erotica, surrealism, and mystery all at once. That man is David Lynch. In my opinion, to even write a traditional film review of his work is to diminish his genius. So I will leave it at that – anyone who hasn’t watched Blue Velvet is missing out. 

REVIEW: Gladiator II

Abigail Goodman Leave a comment

Gladiator II is not my Roman Empire. The much-anticipated sequel to Ridley Scott’s Gladiator, released in 2000 to an enraptured audience, is deficient in almost every respect. From meandering plotlines to undeveloped characters, Gladiator II will have audiences on the edge of their seat – ready to get up and leave. 

While Gladiator saw Maximus Decimus Meridius – an exiled Roman general – reduced to slavery, forced to serve a corrupt emperor, and on a noble quest to avenge his murdered family, Gladiator II sees Lucius Verus Aurelius – the exiled Prince of Rome – reduced to slavery, forced to serve corrupt twin emperors, and on a noble quest to avenge his murdered family. Yet where the first Gladiator lived up to its promise of grandeur personalities fighting a larger-than-life battle, Gladiator II falls short. Paul Mescal (a grieving Lucius), Pedro Pascal (the Roman General Acacius), Connie Nielsen (Maximus’s former lover Lucilla), and Denzel Washington (the delightfully conniving Macrinus) are all phenomenal actors. But they cannot make up for a script that has no idea where it’s going. 

Director Ridley Scott seems determined to recreate the magic of the first movie, yet turns his all-star cast into Atlas, holding up a failing plot on their backs. Dialogue veers off into the melodramatic, especially when it comes to Lucilla, who apparently has no role in this movie except to stand around looking beautiful and sad. Twin emperors Geta (Joseph Quinn) and Caracalla (Fred Hechinger) giggle about like two spoiled, all-powerful drag queens, but do little in the way of meaningful development or emotional depth. The most tragic of all is Mescal, who spends much of the film glowering into the distance and changing deeply-held beliefs on a whim, depending on what a stagnating plot needs him to do. 

Nor can extravagant fight scenes and wild plot twists make up for the lack of any emotional core. Scott leans heavily on CGI in his Colosseum – great white sharks, rings of fire, and whatnot – but I heard more suppressed laughter in the theater than oohs and ahhs. Scenes that were meant to spark tears were forced into the plot too quickly without the necessary suspense, attempting to break tension that just wasn’t there. I’ll withhold the two major plot twists for the sake of spoilers, but even Washington, playing a former-gladiator-turned-master with big ambitions, is not given the proper tools to make his character work. Crucial scenes were either introduced too quickly, giving me whiplash, or drawn-out excruciatingly slowly, making me yawn. 

I’m not saying that Gladiator II doesn’t have entertaining moments, but you would be better served re-watching the original. Because without a strong sense of direction, Gladiator II’s Rome is pure clownishness. 

REVIEW: Anora

Abigail Goodman Leave a comment

Yet another masterpiece from director Sean Baker. “Anora” is possibly the movie of the year, winning the prestigious Palme d’Or at the Cannes Film Festival last May. The film manages to be wildly entertaining and heartbreakingly tender, fusing together comedy and tragedy in a sincere, never tacky, plot. Baker has added a crowning jewel to his already impressive list of achievements – his movies, like “Tangerine,” “Red Rocket,” and “The Florida Project,” are all superb depictions of people living life on the edge. 

Anora (played by the excellent Mikey Madison) is a sex worker dancing in an upscale Manhattan club. She’s bratty and charming and sexy; the golden strands woven into her hair, her big brown eyes and pouty lips, and a thick Brooklyn accent seduce both clientele and audience. We might be tempted to make assumptions about this street-smart stripper, but she’s unfailingly competent at her job, wooing the helpless men around her with a sharp confidence and glamour, and even pulling out an accented Russian upon request. 

Yet Ani – as she prefers to be called – makes a cardinal mistake: she falls in love at the job. The object of her mascaraed eyes is Ivan (played by the up-and-coming Mark Eydelshteyn), who woos Ani with an ADHD, marijuana-fueled manic appeal and a ready checkbook. The relationship is initially transactional but quickly morphs into genuine affection. The trouble is that Ivan’s sexual adventures are paid for by his father, a wealthy Russian oligarch, who will surely not take kindly to his son’s gallivanting with an American stripper. 

Indeed – as anybody but Ani and Ivan could have foreseen – the relationship does not have a happy ending. I’ll spare any spoilers, but let’s just say that there is a scene where Ivan, pulling up his pants with one hand, sprints away from his own mansion and into the city, leaving behind two hired thugs and a weeping, half-naked Ani in his wake. This marks the end of the first act of the film, and it’s only downhill from here. 

It would be easy to divide the characters of “Anora” into two categories. The bourgeoisie and the plebeians. The upper class and the working class. The rich kids and their imprisoned servants. The buyers and the sellers. Baker avoids such cliches. Ani is no damsel in distress. She is unfailingly self-sufficient, brash and confident, completely sure of her own worth. But even the toughest Brooklyn girl has a breaking point, as one of the aforementioned hired thugs, Igor (played by a silent-but-strong Yura Borisov), empathetically foresees with a knowing eye. I say “empathetically” here because Igor and Ani are two sides of the same coin. Two young people, essentially enslaved by a spoiled brat, competently but dutifully making their way through an uncaring city. 

In a way, Ani is much like the impoverished kids playing make-believe in the Orlando motels that Baker depicted in “The Florida Project.” She has learned how to take care of herself, but yearns for love. She is equal parts brazen and naive. She and Ivan live in the same city, but in completely different worlds. And as she soon finds out, her dreams are pure fantasy.

REVIEW: “touch” by Ericka Lopez

Maggie Watson 1 Comment

In most art exhibitions, there’s one rule that should never be broken: don’t touch the art. But visitors to Ericka Lopez’s “touch” at the Institute for the Humanities are not just allowed, but encouraged, to break this taboo.

Ericka Lopez is a blind artist who works primarily through touch, and uses her memories of color from before she completely lost her vision to inform her color choices. Her exhibition consists of a mix of textile, ceramic and assemblage works, all of which viewers are “invited to gently touch.” Across the multitude of media, there are many textures to explore.

The punch-rug textile squares, in a rainbow of marbled colors, are shaggy and soft—but sometimes punctuated by beads and buttons, or a particularly scratchy type of yarn. The coil-built ceramic vessels are warped and bent into organic forms, appearing so flexible that I was almost surprised by how solid they felt under my fingers. And the assemblage works, sewn together out of everything from keys to spools of thread to fuzzy balls of yarn, were a surprising mix of textures. Sometimes, running my hand across a collection of beads would create delightful moments of sound as well, contributing to the truly multi-sensory experience.

Details of pieces from Ericka Lopez’s “touch.” Photos by reviewer.

Closing my eyes and exploring the works with only my hands was a lesson in just how nuanced my sense of touch could be. I learned from the textiles that there were many more different kinds of “soft” than I knew how to describe, and from the ceramics that a glossy glaze feels completely different from a matte one.

In her exhibition statement, curator Amanda Krugliak writes that “As visitors to the gallery become active participants, there is the opportunity for deeper human connection beyond surfaces.” It is one thing to be merely a viewer of an artwork, and another to touch it, to rub your fingers through loops of yarn or dangling beads. When my touch shifted an arrangement of keys on one of the assemblage works, I realized that it would be ever-so-slightly different for the next person to enter the gallery. The opportunity to participate in an exhibition in this way, and to be connected to the artwork in the same way that the artist was as she created it, is a rare and precious one.

The exhibition contains multiple features to make Lopez’s artwork accessible to blind and low vision visitors, including braille labels on the walls beside the pieces and QR codes leading to visual descriptions of the artwork. (There are no labels printed in plain text—sighted viewers will have to pick up a paper exhibition catalog just outside the gallery in order to read information about the pieces.) All exhibition materials are also available in both Spanish and English.

While the colors and textures may be visually stunning, pictures don’t do this exhibition justice. Ericka Lopez’s diverse and captivating body of work is best seen—and felt—in person.

“touch” is on view at the Institute for the Humanities Gallery until December 13th. Detailed information about accessibility can be found here.

REVIEW: Through the Lens: The Henry Ford Estate’s Timeless Beauty

vprayag 1 Comment

The Nature Photography event at the Environmental Interpretive Center on November 14th was an experience I’ll carry with me for a long time. It wasn’t just about wandering the trails of the Henry Ford Estate; it was about seeing this historic space through the eyes of the students who had captured it with their cameras. Their photographs didn’t just frame the estate—they transformed it, revealing a place I thought I knew in ways I hadn’t imagined.

The Henry Ford Mansion . Photo By Alexa Mckray

The student photographs lined the trails like quiet whispers of their perspectives, each one inviting me to pause and see the Henry Ford Mansion in a new light. The mansion, with its stately stone facade and commanding presence, became more than just a historic landmark through their eyes. One photograph caught the mansion bathed in the soft, golden hues of a sunset, the light making the stone seem alive, glowing with warmth.

Another portrayed it on a misty morning, its edges blurred and softened by fog, giving it an ethereal, almost dreamlike quality. Standing there, with the real mansion towering above me and these interpretations surrounding me, I felt like I was experiencing its many layers—its strength, its mystery, its quietness—all at once.

It was in the orchard where the students’ work really resonated with me. Walking among the bare, twisted trees, I stopped at a photograph of the last apple of the season, clinging stubbornly to its branch. Another image focused on the intricate lines of a gnarled trunk, its bark peeling to reveal the scars of time. These moments, frozen through their lenses, made me pause and look closer at the orchard itself—its beauty, its endurance, its history.

 

Images By Katrina Brown And Kai Richardson

The pond, still and reflective in the late autumn light, was another scene transformed by the students’ photographs. In one, the water was alive with lily pads under the green canopy of summer. In another, it was frozen and dusted with snow, radiating the stillness of winter. Standing there, I felt a deep appreciation for how photography can carry us through time and seasons, reminding us of nature’s constant transformation.

This event wasn’t just about the photographs—it was about the way they made me feel. They invited me to look closer, to see the familiar in a new light, and to connect with the estate in a deeply personal way. Each image wasn’t just a capture of a place but a piece of the student’s perspective, their way of seeing the world.

Walking those trails that day felt like stepping into a conversation—one between the students, the estate, and myself. Their work didn’t just show me the beauty of the Henry Ford Estate; it reminded me how much beauty there is in looking, really looking, at the world around us.

REVIEW: Threads of Justice and Legacy: Lester Johnson Art at the Stamelos Gallery

vprayag Leave a comment

Visiting the Stamelos Gallery at the Mardigian Library on Monday was a powerful experience that gave me a deeper appreciation for Lester Johnson’s work. Stepping into the space filled with his vibrant pieces, I felt the energy of his journey as an artist, a journey that is deeply rooted in the history and culture of Detroit and the broader African-American experience.

The exhibition, FOUR: Lester Johnson’s Selected Works, is a captivating reflection of his life and creative evolution. As I stood in front of his large-scale totem sculptures, I couldn’t help but think about how Johnson’s work is so deeply connected to his childhood in Detroit’s Westside, a historically rich Black community. Growing up just blocks from the iconic Blue Bird Inn, a hub for jazz legends like John Coltrane and Miles Davis, it’s clear how the rhythms and melodies of Detroit’s jazz scene shaped his creative vision. Johnson’s art is infused with the spirit of this music, often created with it playing in the background, as he seeks to channel its energy and emotion into his sculptures and paintings.

Courtesy of Lester Johnson
26 Wood, Fiber, and Fabric Totems. Courtesy of Lester Johnson

One piece that particularly struck me was the 26 Wood, Fiber, and Fabric Totems, which are a tribute to Rosa Parks and Judge Damon J. Keith. These works, rich in color and texture, tell a story of resilience and community. The fabric, woven with African-inspired patterns, speaks to the ways in which culture can bind people together, even in the face of adversity.

For Johnson, fabric is more than just material—it’s a symbol of the strength and unity that communities, particularly Black communities, have built over time despite systemic challenges. The totems were a poignant reminder of the importance of honoring the past while continuing to fight for justice.

As I walked through the gallery, I was also reminded of how much Johnson’s personal experiences shaped his artistic direction. His move into papermaking in the 1980s, influenced by Al Loving and Lynn Forgach, marked a turning point in his work.

I could sense the new textures and depth in pieces like Lynn’s Song and Nerfetiti, where paper became a medium for exploring his longstanding fascination with primal cultures and natural materials. The three-dimensionality of the work felt so immersive, like I could reach out and touch the cultural stories embedded in the fibers of the paper itself.

Courtesy Of Lester Johnson
Lynn’s Song and Nerfetiti. Courtesy of Lester Johnson

 

The most moving aspect of Johnson’s work is its ability to connect deeply with the viewer. Each piece tells a story—not just of the artist’s journey, but of the shared human experience. Whether it’s the universal struggle for justice or the celebration of the cultural legacies that shape our lives, Johnson’s art invites us to reflect on what unites us as individuals and as communities. My visit to the Stamelos Gallery was a reminder that art isn’t just about what we see on the surface; it’s about the stories, struggles, and triumphs that are woven into every brushstroke, every piece of fabric, and every sheet of paper. Johnson’s work is a testament to the power of creativity to honor the past and inspire the future.