There’s a certain point during a live show-when the bassist drops his instrument on the stage in front of you, falls down in his beer and starts yelling-when you know whether or not you were made for rock music.
A Baxter is pleasant, nerdy, timid and supremely uninteresting. He is, above all, a wimp. In short, he is not someone you want to watch an entire movie about.
The Cultural Institute of Mexico is a mecca of artistic diplomacy, uniting American and Mexican culture not through politics but through creative expression and community involvement.
As a person who is fairly ignorant of the D.C. art scene, the Chuck Close exhibit opening at the Adamson Gallery left me much more enlightened than one would expect.
The moment the end credits roll in a Wong Kar Wai film, audience members are momentarily silent. But at the end of 2046, one is left with a sense of aesthetically inspired awe and a consciousness of loss.
