Between them, Nick Prueher and Joe Pickett, buddies since sixth grade, have a string of assorted credits that includes The Onion, Late Night with David Letterman and Mystery Science Theater 3000. But it's as connoisseurs of video dumpster-diving that they've altered the cosmos. Since 1991, they've scoured Goodwill stores, yard sales and other treasure troves for bizarre VHS artifacts. Now they pass along their finds via the Found Footage Festival, celebrating its 10th year with a Nashville stopover 9 p.m. Thursday at The Belcourt.
Previous years have featured anything from an accidentally homoerotic music video featuring mall-haired ’80s Memphis wrasslers The Fabulous Ones to industrial-safety films and Jazzercise clips the world forgot — all best enjoyed with a rowdy crowd, concession-stand brews, and the hosts as your WTF tour guides. Here's all we'll say in anticipation of the grab bag they're opening tomorrow night: shaken ferrets.
Admission is $12.
Fans of public art, Andy Kaufmann and delicious pizza have something new to celebrate: Check out the mural that just went up on the old Great Escape building on Broadway. The new tenant is Two Boots, which Bites reported on back in January. Thankfully the Two Boots folks didn't follow Chuy's lead — instead, they kept the facade on the subtle side, enlisting help from local artist Sheila B. to paint the namesakes of their most popular slices.
See the mural in its natural, construction-zoned habitat after the jump — we're betting the Dumpster and roofers will probably be out of the way by Two Boots' opening, which is slated for sometime before July 4.
Hat tip to Sean L. Maloney for hipping me to this 16mm wonder.
Ever since my office moved from Music Row to the Gulch, I've made the lunchtime walk to Turnip Truck and back somewhere in the area of 9,000 times. Which is why I can't help but notice when Descendents parodies pop up out of nowhere, attached to stop signs off 12th Avenue. This isn't the first time the Scene building's been the target of outdoor viral marketing, but I've seen a lot of band self-promotion and this didn't feel like band self-promotion.
That assumption was more or less confirmed when I came across four more signs, scattered between 12th & Porter and Centennial Park.
As best as I can figure, these are the work of a collective calling itself Curbie Crew... and that's about all I've got. Cursory Googling turned up a long-neglected MySpace page that's been stripped of its pictures, comments and friends list. The only thing on it is a list of names, one of which seemingly belonging to the artist behind the awesome Shepard Fairey "OBEY" parody after the jump.
We want to know more. Are you part of this group? Have you seen more of these signs around town? Who exactly is the face supposed to be? Hit us up in the comments section or at arts[at]nashvillescene[dot]com. More photos after the jump.
Behold, the inauguration of Jack's Non-Viral Video Series.™
Why, you ask? Aren't you sick of seeing the same old 10-million-view vids posted on every shmo's Facebook page? Hasn't the term "viral video" jumped the shark anyway? (Speaking of which, hasn't the term "jump the shark" jumped the shark? Whoa. Dude.)
What constitutes a non-viral video? Well, I'm not going to impose arbitrary criteria, but let's just say that non-viral videos are like art. (Or porn.) I know it when I see it. In this case, 17,000 views in a well over a year would seem to qualify as non-viral.
For the first installment of the
weekly monthly quarterly thrice-yearly whenever-the-hell-I-feel-like-it series, behold the awesome, jaw-dropping madness that is "Japanese Modern Jazz Opera." A bizarre stage production featuring freaky props and costumes, all performed to American jazz classics like "Now's the Time" (Charlie Parker), "Blue Monk" (Thelonious Monk), "Sister Sadie" (Horace Silver), "Doxy" (Sonny Rollins) — complete with original Japanese lyrics!
And be sure not to miss the 1:45 mark, when a bizarre pod opens to reveal a female singer dressed in a unitard with male genitalia. Oh, the splendor!
HT: Jim Hoke.
Whaddaya mean, "Everything is terrible at The Belcourt"? They've got a kick-ass Bresson retro only a few places in the country will see; they've got a March-April calendar that looks like the Film Forum mothership crash-landed in Hillsboro Village; and they've got Nashville native Dee Rees' acclaimed debut Pariah opening Friday, with the fiercely championed Margaret to follow next week. Are we missing something?
Not if we show up 10 p.m. Sunday, when the website Everything Is Terrible hosts a screening of its third feature, DOGGIE WOGGIEZ! POOCHIE WOOCHIEZ! A curated compendium of headscratchers and horrors from the world of discarded VHS and triple-digit-channel cable, Everything Is Terrible isn't just going to show you a bunch of randomly assembled found-footage insanity. Supposedly its masterminds (who will appear at The Belcourt in giant mascot costumes) have cut their findings into an approximation of Alejandro Jodorowsky's 1973 phantasmagoria The Holy Mountain — only made completely of clips involving ... dogs.
For comparison's sake, we've provided the trailers for both The Holy Mountain and DOGGIE WOGGIEZ! How to tell them apart? The one with the shaggy, long-haired lead that doesn't speak is ...
Editor's note: Emily Clayton is Country Life's featured artist for February. In this post, she guides us through some of her favorite internet sites.
One can spend hours on Tumblr, as I often do, sifting through the bottomless pit of imagery. The endless scroll and unlimited free associations to be made are both hallucinatory and addictive. Much can be said about the concept of curation these days, but I feel these “curated” spaces are some of the most interesting places to find a convergence of pop, memes, art history and fashion. Here are a few sites that do it particularly well. I’m sure there are thousands more to be discovered.
My cursory research (read: emailing a few friends) has not turned up any leads as to where in Nashville this amazing lip sync video might have been recorded. I assume the flashdance you see above was probably produced inside a mall kiosk, or perhaps at a long since-demolished amusement park. As it stands, I could see this piece of pulsating, cookie-cut flashy trash serving as the looped video in an installation of some sort — a meditation on the post-Madonna, pre-Gaga pop universe, or on the commodification of youthful desire, or on the aesthetics of white high-tops. These days, anyone can make this sort of thing on their own device, so the novelty of mouthing the words to a sex jam in front of a phalanx of star explosions isn't quite what it was back in 1987. But Photo Booth doesn't have any filters anywhere near this cool, at least not yet.
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