“Beirut and the Golden Sixties” is a Berlin exhibition.
The Middle East’s Paris. This phrase appears in almost every speech about Beirut. The exhibition “Beirut and the Golden Sixties” at Berlin’s Gropius-Bau demonstrates that this is more than a tired cliché. Sam Bardaouil and Tim Fellrath resurrect a cultural heyday that began in the late 1950s and pales in comparison to the art metropolises of Paris and New York: a fascinating mix of global living, aesthetic modernity, and sexual libertinism. After a brief twenty years, the “Switzerland of the Middle East” was changed into a scene of ruins comparable to that of Ukraine today, thanks to a 15-year civil war that began in 1975.
The creative forces of the moment absolutely jump out at you in this exciting show. However, the two art historians do not want their 200 exhibits, some of which have been particularly restored for the show, to celebrate the “Golden Age” in a nostalgic way, ranging from paintings and historical posters to Op Art. Otherwise, the exhibition would not have been titled “Manifesto of Fragility.” The oil painting by Khalil Zgaib from 1958 said it all: Beirut’s art paradise was a continual dance on the volcano. American battleships cruise through the brilliant blue harbor on the job. Joana Hadjithomas and Khalil Joreige bring the story up to date. A dozen screens set in a circle depict the moment when the August 20, 2020 bomb at Beirut’s harbor destroyed two-thirds of the city, as seen by surveillance cameras at the private Sursock Museum. Even the most spectacular cultural environment can be reduced to rubble and ashes in seconds, according to an installation similar to the current warning sign. When the outgoing Minister of State for Culture, Monika Grütters, pushed the two curators through as the director tandem of Berlin’s Hamburger Bahnhof at the end of last year, right before the change of government, they were welcomed with extreme skepticism. Following this curatorial triumph, one finds themselves looking forward to their work at the upcoming “Museum of the Present” with bated breath. Arend, Ingo
Francis Ford Coppola at the Oscars, on a Mission for Peace
Will Smith’s Oscar slap also drowned out a big peace mission: Francis Ford Coppola, who is almost 84, put an end to one of Hollywood’s oldest feuds. On the 50th anniversary of “The Godfather,” the filmmaker congratulated Mario Puzo for the 500,000th time – and Robert Evans for the first time. In 1971, the mafia masterpiece was updated at the request of the film studio dandy. He chastised Coppola, saying: “Schmock, Schmock! You took an epic and made a trailer out of it.” Evans lost his wife, Ali MacGraw (to Steve McQueen), because he invested so much time into the film, and Coppola consistently downplayed Evans’ role. (All of this is documented in Evans’ memoirs, “The Final Billing Is Final.”) Evans died in the year 2019. He does, however, have more truth than meets the eye. He was well aware of his actions. At the very least, the rest of the world now knows. Pavlovic, Milan
Impudent speeches by impudent women, according to Stefanie Sargnagel and others
When one thinks of the 1983 bestseller subtitled “Indignant Speeches of Indignant Women,” the pleasant feeling of “nonetheless” returns. Christine Brückner, the author, gave women from literature and history who had been notoriously suppressed a chance to speak up. There are currently “New impudent utterances of impudent women” by contemporary authors in the magazine New Review. And, despite the fact that there are now nearly too many venues on which everyone can say anything, you can learn what still prevents women from speaking: Shame hasn’t been defeated by the internet; rather, it’s been coarsened by it. There are still men who drown out women. On the other hand, comedy can aid, like in Stefanie Sargnagel’s story of sexual self-discovery on the tape, which transforms the heroine “Nevertheless” into a horrific weapon. Schmidt, Marie
Kurt Masur’s Classical Music: An Excellent Edition
Kurt Masur, a Lower Silesia native and the son of an electrical engineer who was also a trained electrician, was drafted into the paratroopers during the war’s final winter. However, due to an irreversible finger injury, it was evident that the planned career as a pianist was no longer viable. Nonetheless, he studied piano in Leipzig from 1946 until he stopped. His ambition to conduct persisted, and he eventually rose to become the conductor of the illustrious Leipzig Gewandhaus Orchestra. For three decades, he shaped this ensemble. It was there that the musical highlights were recorded, which are now available in a full edition (Warner). It was more of a political problem that he was appointed chief conductor of the New York Philharmonic following reunification as a symbol of freedom. His “unbroken trust in the signal power of music” will be praised by the New York Times later. His late second career, though, was not inconsequential. This is demonstrated by recordings such as Anton Bruckner’s Seventh Symphony from 1991. In direct comparison, however, the Leipzig Gewandhaus Orchestra’s excellent quality is astounding, and it must be awarded the lead in terms of sound quality, distinctiveness, precision, and expressiveness. It isn’t about going to extremes. Kurt Masur is a man of basic clarity who also knows how to put on a show. Masur never runs the risk of slowing down the tempo here, as he does with Bruckner and other great Romantics. Even when other conductors give in to the impulse to slow down when things get really quiet. Another highlight of this presentation is Masur’s performance as a Tchaikovsky conductor. In addition, a new and broad understanding of the symphonist Franz Liszt, who is still largely unknown, is possible. Not just in his programmatic symphonies, fantasies, and two piano concertos, but especially in the 13 Weimar symphonic poems, which are enhanced by the carefully balanced sound design and contained orchestral ferocity. Mauro Helmut Helmut Helmut Helmut Helmut Helm
Is there truly a Museum of Lies in Radebeul?
What are the exhibits like in a museum of lies? Reinhard Zabka claims to gather things that don’t exist in Radebeul. A hole from Mozart’s Magic Flute, the “auditory picture of the missing Kyritzer Knatter,” as well as the genuine Titanic sinking sound, but “20 minutes later”! Zabka is fascinated in stories about chaos and confusion, and visitors are encouraged to “construct their own meaning.” “The poor things are here as they are” because the museum has an aesthetic that does not work with design. No, it’s not a fiction; the museum’s survival is in jeopardy due to a disagreement over the property on which it is housed. It invited to the “World Lie Ball” on Friday, perhaps without a Titanic-orchestra. Pollmer, Cornelius