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She Was a Little-Known Crypto Trader. Then FTX Collapsed.

by SITKI KOVALI 24 Nov 2022
written by SITKI KOVALI

When his cryptocurrency exchange started teetering in early November, Sam Bankman-Fried went on Twitter to calm everyone down. FTX was fine, he insisted. Nothing to worry about. Joining him in the outreach was a close colleague: Caroline Ellison, the 28-year-old chief executive of Alameda Research, a crypto trading firm Mr. Bankman-Fried also founded.

A little-known figure outside crypto circles, Ms. Ellison claimed repeatedly that Mr. Bankman-Fried’s empire was on stable financial footing. On Twitter, she sparred with Changpeng Zhao, the chief executive of Binance, who was voicing doubts about FTX and Alameda.

But her words weren’t enough to keep FTX alive. A run on deposits, prompted partly by Mr. Zhao’s comments, left the company owing $8 billion. Within less than a week, FTX and Alameda had filed for bankruptcy. Now the companies are facing investigations by the Justice Department and the Securities and Exchange Commission, focused on whether FTX’s shortfall arose because it had illegally lent its customers’ deposits to Alameda.

Ms. Ellison is at the center of the furor. In a meeting with Alameda employees the week that the companies imploded, Ms. Ellison acknowledged her company had dipped into FTX user funds, The New York Times and The Wall Street Journal have previously reported. On Twitter, amateur detectives have spent the last two weeks dissecting her life, and she is likely to play a crucial role in any criminal case that emerges from FTX’s collapse.

“She will face an immense amount of scrutiny both from criminal prosecutors and a variety of different civil agencies, and also civil suits,” said Eugene Soltes, an expert on corporate integrity at Harvard Business School. “It looks pretty awful from her perspective.”

Lawyers for Ms. Ellison declined to comment.

In some ways, Mr. Bankman-Fried, 30, and Ms. Ellison couldn’t be more different. While he was an aggressive and outgoing public cheerleader for the crypto industry, she maintained a relatively low profile. But they emerged from the same intellectual milieu. Like Mr. Bankman-Fried, Ms. Ellison was deeply involved in the effective altruism movement — a community that has become increasingly influential in technology circles. At times, the pair were romantically involved.

Effective altruism is a global philanthropic movement in which donors seek to maximize the impact of their giving for the long term. But the tight-knit community — driven by online forums, blogs and mailing lists — is also a hothouse for all sorts of other ideas outside the mainstream, from polyamorous living to the possibility that artificial intelligence will one day destroy humankind.

In blog posts that Ms. Ellison is believed to have written over the years, she philosophized at length about a wide range of topics, from book recommendations and dating preferences to her one-time view that “the sexual revolution was a mistake,” a position she said she had moved away from.

The daughter of economists at the Massachusetts Institute of Technology, Ms. Ellison grew up in the Boston area, where she was the captain of the Newton North High School math team and regarded as a serious student and a hard worker.

Ms. Ellison is the daughter of M.I.T. economists.Credit…Charles Krupa/Associated Press

“I am shocked,” said Pavel Etingof, a math professor at M.I.T. who worked with Ms. Ellison when she was in high school. “I trust the U.S. law enforcement to get to the bottom of it.”

The Aftermath of FTX’s Downfall

The sudden collapse of the crypto exchange has left the industry stunned.

  • A Spectacular Rise and Fall: Who is Sam Bankman-Fried and how did he become the face of crypto? The Daily charted the spectacular rise and fall of the man behind FTX.
  • A Symbiotic Relationship: Mr. Bankman-Fried’s built FTX partly to help the trading business of Alameda Research, his first company. The ties between the two entities are now coming under scrutiny.
  • Wall Street Seeks to Profit: Brokers are offering FTX customers pennies on the dollar for the bankruptcy rights to their funds trapped on the platform.
  • A Company in Disarray: The new chief executive of FTX, who helped manage Enron after its collapse, said that he had never seen “such a complete failure of corporate control.”

In 2012, Ms. Ellison moved across the country to attend college at Stanford, where she majored in math. Former classmates described her as studious and quiet; one friend recalled that Ms. Ellison read widely, including biographies and science fiction, and seemed sincere in her interest in philanthropy.

Ms. Ellison has given a handful of interviews over the years, speaking in soft, halting tones. By her own account, she got interested in effective altruism in her freshman year at Stanford, after reading about the movement online. When she graduated, Ms. Ellison joined the quantitative trading firm Jane Street, where she was part of a cohort of new arrivals coached by Mr. Bankman-Fried, who was a couple of years older.

“I was kind of scared of him,” she said in an unpublished interview with The Times in March. “You could tell he was quite smart and sort of intimidating.”

The pair stayed in touch, and Ms. Ellison got in contact with Mr. Bankman-Fried in February 2018, not long after he had started Alameda, which was based in an office in Berkeley. They had coffee, and Mr. Bankman-Fried seemed cagey, informing her that he had just embarked on a new project he couldn’t tell her about. But eventually he decided to share his plans for Alameda.

“I was like, ‘Oh man, this sounds pretty exciting,’” she recalled in March. “For the next week, I kept thinking about it and being like, ‘I wonder what’s going on at Alameda right now?’ It sounded like crypto trading is pretty crazy.”

Alameda made fast profits by exploiting inefficiencies in the Bitcoin market. Not long after its founding, Mr. Bankman-Fried moved the company to Hong Kong, where Ms. Ellison eventually joined him with a small group of traders. In 2019, he started FTX; as the new exchange started to consume more of his time, he appointed Ms. Ellison and another trader, Sam Trabucco, as joint chief executives of Alameda. Mr. Trabucco stepped down earlier this year, leaving Ms. Ellison in sole charge.

Sam Bankman-Fried coached Ms. Ellison at the quantitative trading firm Jane Street.Credit…Erika P. Rodriguez for The New York Times

The relationship between Alameda and FTX was the original sin that led to the implosion of Mr. Bankman-Fried’s empire. Alameda traded heavily on the FTX platform, meaning it sometimes benefited when FTX’s other customers lost money, a conflict of interest that Mr. Bankman-Fried sometimes seemed uncomfortable discussing in interviews.

Even as she profited from crypto’s explosion in popularity, Ms. Ellison was hardly a true believer in the technology. “I do think a lot of crypto projects don’t have much real value,” she said matter-of-factly on FTX’s official podcast in early 2021. On another episode, she said she had pursued crypto trading mainly to make lots of money, which she planned to give away as part of her commitment to effective altruism. “Young people tend to be too risk averse,” she said.

As her career advanced, Ms. Ellison is believed to have posted frequently on the social-networking site Tumblr, blogging under the handle “worldoptimization.” The blog was anonymous, but it included specific details from her life, as well as a link to her public Twitter account. In an interview, Mr. Bankman-Fried confirmed that Ms. Ellison was the author, though the blog has now been deleted and it’s not clear whether she has publicly acknowledged it was hers.

In an archived post from 2019, the blog’s author said that effective altruism seemed to be an “inevitable consequence of ambition.”

“If I want to do something with my life, what is there to do?” the post said. “Money is too easy.”

Last year, FTX relocated to the Bahamas, and Ms. Ellison set about encouraging other people in the effective altruism community to follow them. A post under her name on an effective altruist forum listed some of the benefits, including “low tax” and “beaches!”

“It’s a fairly small country,” the post said. “If a lot of EAs move there, EA could end up being a somewhat influential force.”

In the Bahamas, Ms. Ellison lived in the five-bedroom penthouse of Albany, a luxury resort on the island of New Providence. She shared the space with nine other occupants, including Mr. Bankman-Fried, as well as Nishad Singh and Gary Wang, two other top FTX executives.

The four housemates sat on the board of the FTX Future Fund, an effective altruist group that Mr. Bankman-Fried financed with his crypto fortune. In April, Ms. Ellison, Mr. Singh and Mr. Bankman-Fried joined a $580 million funding round for a little-known artificial intelligence lab founded by other effective altruists. The start-up aimed to build “safe AI” — a key part of the effective altruist belief system.

At times, the FTX leadership team’s charitable commitments manifested in a holier-than-thou attitude, making colleagues outside the clique feel alienated and judged, according to two people familiar with the matter who requested anonymity to discuss sensitive matters. Ms. Ellison was sometimes blunt, one of the people said, and struck other staff as self-righteous.

After FTX moved to the Bahamas, Ms. Ellison encouraged others to follow.Credit…Erika P. Rodriguez for The New York Times

Online, she could also be flippant about her management of Alameda. When she finished calls with the chief executives of other companies, she would say to herself, “Oh thank god, I think I fooled them into thinking I’m a real adult,” according to a Tumblr post on worldoptimization’s account. At Alameda and FTX, traders often used Adderall-like stimulants to remain alert over long hours, said people familiar with the matter — a habit that Ms. Ellison appeared to publicly acknowledge.

“Nothing like regular amphetamine use to make you appreciate how dumb a lot of normal, non-medicated human experience is,” she tweeted in 2021.

Even before the crisis of the last two weeks, there were signs that Alameda was in big trouble. According to a recent bankruptcy filing, the company’s quarterly financial statements were never audited. One business partner, who requested anonymity to describe private business discussions, ended work with Alameda after a call with its executives raised red flags late last year. The business partner asked about a line representing $2 billion of investments on Alameda’s balance sheet — a sizable chunk of the firm’s overall assets — and the Alameda representatives couldn’t explain what it was.

Then, on Nov. 2, the crypto news site CoinDesk published an article based on a leaked Alameda balance sheet that appeared to show that a large portion of the company’s assets consisted of FTT, the cryptocurrency that FTX invented.

Changpeng Zhao, the chief executive of the rival crypto exchange Binance, was concerned about the financial stability of Alameda.Credit…Ore Huiying for The New York Times

The disclosure raised concerns about the financial stability of Mr. Bankman-Fried’s empire. On Nov. 6, Mr. Zhao announced plans to sell an enormous supply of FTT. At the time, the token was worth about $22; if its price dropped too much, FTX would be in trouble.

Ms. Ellison confronted Mr. Zhao on Twitter: “Alameda will happily buy it all from you today at $22,” she said. Behind the scenes, she gave orders to her small team of traders to keep the token’s price at $22 by placing bids at roughly that level, according to a person familiar with the matter.

But Mr. Zhao’s tweets set off the crypto equivalent of a bank run, and customers rushed to withdraw their holdings from FTX.

As the crisis unfolded, Ms. Ellison was visiting the Alameda office in Hong Kong, where she worked in a private meeting room, taking phone calls, according to a person familiar with the matter. Two days after Mr. Zhao’s tweets, Mr. Bankman-Fried announced what had seemed unthinkable: The exchange was facing “liquidity crunches,” unable to meet withdrawals.

In a meeting with employees the next day, Ms. Ellison admitted that Alameda had taken customer funds from FTX to make up for shortfalls in its accounts, according to a person familiar with the matter who was granted anonymity to share internal discussions. Ms. Ellison sounded tearful, the person said, and told the group she was sorry. FTX now owes creditors $8 billion, and the amount it lent to Alameda is as high as $10 billion, according to people familiar with the firm’s finances.

The Alameda staff were shocked. As the news sank in, they commiserated, discussing plans to leave Hong Kong and seek legal help.

Ms. Ellison was not included.

Erin Griffith and Matthew Goldstein contributed reporting. Jack Begg, Kitty Bennett and Alain Delaquérière contributed research.

24 Nov 2022 0 comment
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A Nick Cave Survey With Plenty of Bells but No Whistles

by SITKI KOVALI 24 Nov 2022
written by SITKI KOVALI

In 1992, when Nick Cave made his first soundsuit, the ornate, full-body garments for which he is best known, it was his response to the beating of Rodney King by police officers. Cave has described this genesis as “an inflammatory response,” a conduit of rage and helplessness channeled into something both theoretically wearable and visually striking.

The first suit, with its prickly skin of twigs and branches, was a remedy both to racial profiling and bodily vulnerability — armor as protest. That the soundsuits’ relevance has sustained, 30 years on, represents both a triumph for the 63-year-old artist and unyielding nightmare. Cave has created nearly 500 examples.

A version from 2011, on view in “Forothermore,” an alternatingly beautiful and deeply mournful survey of Cave’s work at the Guggenheim, illustrates how the soundsuits evolved since, into nearly autonomous beings. A hulking exoskeleton of clipped twigs sheathed onto a metal armature, it appears human, but only just. Its shoulders slumped, the weight of its outsize head making it appear like a Maurice Sendak creature — a wild thing, terrifying and melancholic. It stands like a golem, an entity, in the Jewish tradition, sculpted from earth and animated as the protector of a persecuted community.

Installation view of “Nick Cave: Forothermore” at the Guggenheim. A soundsuit from 2011 (second from right) illustrates how the suits evolved since their inception, into nearly autonomous beings.Credit…Jeenah Moon for The New York Times

Cave has made several twig versions, but these are outliers; the soundsuits tend to be elaborately embellished, abandoning organic material for consumer products, laden with scaffoldings of lost toys or resplendent with beadwork, buttons and artificial flowers. Unlike that first suit, which aimed to camouflage a wearer like a piece of tactical gear, Cave’s soundsuits became as inconspicuous as a brass band at a monastery. They reach for magisterial levels of flamboyance, sprouting constellations of classroom globes or coated with shaggy, lurid hair, like a feral Muppet who’s gotten into a cache of Manic Panic.

The soundsuits are the most recognized part of Cave’s practice (he’s translated them into mosaics in the subway passages beneath Times Square and oversized jigsaw puzzles) and undoubtedly the draw here, but they’re also of a piece with his larger, abiding project, which centers on the Black American body and the ways in which it is devalued and brutalized. Curated by Naomi Beckwith, the survey is a condensed version that originated earlier this year at the Museum of Contemporary Art Chicago, in Cave’s hometown. Last January, the Guggenheim appointed Beckwith chief curator and deputy director, and she retrofitted the exhibition here.

As in Chicago, “Forothermore” is organized into three sections titled “What It Was,” “What It Is” and “What It Shall Be,” a rough past-present-future lens through which to digest Cave’s themes. (The exhibition judiciously avoids the word “Afrofuturism,” which as a curatorial conceit has lately been overextended; attempts to see into the future, as the last few years have demonstrated, haven’t panned out.)

Nick Cave’s “Wall Relief,” from 2013, employs the ceramic birds, metal flowers and beads that the artist collects from flea markets and thrift shops.Credit…Jeenah Moon for The New York Times
Nick Cave’s “Time and Again” (2000), one of the artist’s early assemblages, made from found objects, including agricultural equipment, which refer to his Midwest upbringing.Credit…Jeenah Moon for The New York Times

This structure would probably have flowed naturally up the museum’s rotunda but that’s currently occupied by Alex Katz. Instead it is chopped up among three floors of its tower galleries, loosely chronological. (“What It Was” includes work from 1999 to 2015, a time frame that overlaps with the subsequent two sections, so anyone hoping for a linear reading of Cave’s development will be stymied). The sections focus on several of Cave’s bodies of work: his larger bas-reliefs; his cast bronze and sculptures; and finally the soundsuits. Cave’s performance and video work, often revelatory, is largely absent, presumably because of space considerations. (There are three short films buried in the museum’s basement screening room worth viewing.)

The Fine Arts & Exhibits Special Section

  • Bigger and Better: While the Covid-19 pandemic forced museums to close for months, cut staff and reduce expenses, several of them have nevertheless moved forward on ambitious renovations or new buildings.
  • A Tribute to Black Artists: Four museums across the country are featuring exhibitions this fall that recognize the work of African and African American artists, signaling a change in attitude — and priorities.
  • New and Old: In California, museums are celebrating and embracing Latino and Chicano art and artists. And the La Brea Tar Pits & Museum is working to engage visitors about the realities of climate change.
  • A Cultural Correction: After removing all references to Columbus from its collections the Denver Art Museum has embraced a new exhibition on Latin American art.
  • More From the Special Section: Museums, galleries and auction houses are opening their doors wider than ever to new artists, new concepts and new traditions.

Still, recurrent motifs emerge: Cave’s magpie eye for shiny things, his recycler’s zeal, his affection for weird simulacra of the natural world. The work here is unified by twin horrors: the myriad psychological oppressions Black Americans have been made to endure — ugly caricatures and minstrel depictions grafted onto banal Americana like carnival games and spittoons, the reverberations of which are still felt — and the sea of castoff plastic junk that threatens to choke us. Like Kurt Schwitters, Cave delights in shimmering trash, but Cave’s rescued tchotchkes are meant to rhyme with the way life in this country is so readily discarded. There’s a graceful, ethical consideration about material acquisition, and a haunting evocation of the ways time folds in on itself — how nothing is ever really lost, not even creepy lawn ornaments, if they’re remembered.

“Arm Peace”, from 2019. Many of Cave’s cast bronze and found object sculptures feature disembodied limbs festooned with intricate floral brocades.Credit…Jeenah Moon for The New York Times
Nick Cave’s, “Untitled”, (2018,) in which a screaming head rests upon a stack of kitschy flag print shirts.Credit…Jeenah Moon for The New York Times

The middle section largely turns on Cave’s cast bronze and found object sculptures, many of which deploy the artist’s own disembodied limbs festooned with intricate floral brocades. They’re confrontational, sometimes eloquently so, as in pieces in which arms and hands reach from walls in ambiguous gestures, outstretched and laden with towels, poses that suggest servility and conjure psychic dispossession, like a Robert Gober but with mercifully less body hair.

In other places, where a head rests upon an American flag assembled from spent shotgun shells or a stack of kitschy flag print shirts, the effect is obvious and flat. They seem to want to summon surrealism’s ability to make sense of calamity, but they pale in comparison to the daily surreality of being alive in this country, which outstrips art’s capacity to depict it. As in “Platform” (2018), an installation of grotesque bronze gramophones that sprout limbs, much of the experience of American life can be equated to opening one’s mouth to scream and finding no sound produced.

“Platform” (2018), an installation of grotesque bronze gramophones that sprout limbs. “Much of the experience of American life can be equated to opening one’s mouth to scream and finding no sound produced,” the critic says. Credit…Ariel Ione Williams

All fashion is, in the end, a kind of armor. And the soundsuits are, at their most essential, clothing. In their drape, precision and sense of drama, they evince the hand of the courtier (the twig suits in particular call to mind Alexander McQueen’s supremely exquisite razor clam dress). As much as Cave’s suits suggest figures from an indeterminate folklore, the ornamental headdresses following from the exuberant costumes made for J’Ouvert celebrations and Native ceremonial regalia, they also pull from the camp of drag, the baroque stage costumes of funk acts like George Clinton and Earth, Wind and Fire, and the haute too-muchness of Jean-Paul Gaultier and Thierry Mugler.

Cave, who ran an eponymous fashion line in the 1990s, convincingly exploits fashion’s paradox, its simultaneous desire for concealment and acknowledgment, in ways that both anoint Black cultural history and illuminate its anxieties. “Hustle Coat” (2021), a trench coat concealing a tunic of striated costume jewelry and bootleg Rolexes, is a canny sight gag on the coat-flashing street hawker, but also the idea of “ghetto fabulousness,” style in the face of deprivation.

“Hustle Coat” (2021), a trench coat concealing a tunic of striated costume jewelry and bootleg Rolexes.Credit…Jeenah Moon for The New York Times
Detail from “Hustle Coat.”Credit…Jeenah Moon for The New York Times

“Golem” in Hebrew can mean “incomplete.” Cave’s soundsuits are meant to be animated by the body, by which they produce the jangling, rustling and clattering that gives them their name. Looking at them lined up in a neat row, politely static, can be frustratingly anticlimactic. They represent an astonishing level of craftsmanship (and conservation), but they want to fulfill their purpose, which is to move and be loud.

Cave’s art turns on performance, communion through ritual and shared grief. In their absence, we’re left to imagine the heft of a suit made of hundreds of sock monkeys, and take on their word the potency of their talismanic powers.

Artists like to invoke the notion of joy now, a radical defiance in the face of so much conspiring against it. The exhibition’s wall text invokes the word. But there’s little joy to be found. In their ability to obscure and refuse identity, the soundsuits propose a model for a utopic future, one where gender, race and sexual orientation are rendered irrelevant.

In the meantime, the soundsuits are tragic figures, girding themselves for violence, their bric-a-brac shells poised to absorb pain, which inevitably comes. The exertion required to wear their intense armatures makes them daunting, at least chiropractically unsound. They ask us to consider what kind of country we’re left with, if this is what it takes to merely survive in it.


Nick Cave: Forothermore

Through April 10, 2023, at the Solomon R. Guggenheim Museum, 1071 Fifth Avenue, Manhattan; 212-423 3500; guggenheim.org.

24 Nov 2022 0 comment
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Review: In ‘The Hours,’ Prima Donnas and Emotions Soar

by SITKI KOVALI 24 Nov 2022
written by SITKI KOVALI

“The Hours” — a new opera based on the 1998 novel and the 2002 film it inspired — features a redoubtable trio of prima donnas. And it was conceived as a vehicle for one of them, the soprano Renée Fleming, who is using it as her return to the Metropolitan Opera after five years.

But on Tuesday, when the Met gave “The Hours” its staged premiere, only one of this trio of stars really shone: the mezzo-soprano Joyce DiDonato, sounding as confident and fresh, as sonorous and subtle, as she ever has in this theater.

In this achingly — almost painfully — pretty, relentlessly stirring opera, with a score by Kevin Puts and a libretto by Greg Pierce, DiDonato plays Virginia Woolf, battling depression as she writes her novel “Mrs. Dalloway” in the early 1920s.

The two other main characters illustrate the impact of that book through the decades. In 1949, Laura Brown (the Broadway veteran Kelli O’Hara), a pregnant Los Angeles homemaker, is reading it as she suffers Woolfian waves of despair. Fifty years after that, the sophisticated Manhattanite book editor Clarissa Vaughan (Fleming), who shares a first name with Woolf’s protagonist, is, like Clarissa Dalloway, preparing a party — this one for her onetime lover and longtime best friend, a renowned poet dying of AIDS.

Michael Cunningham’s novel, Stephen Daldry’s film and the new opera all take us through one modest yet momentous day in the lives of these three women. Cunningham’s deft construction, with its precious pseudo-Woolf prose, discreetly highlights the threads of connection — flashes of the color yellow, degrees of same-sex desire — weaving the stories together.

The film — which starred Meryl Streep as Clarissa, Julianne Moore as Laura, and, in a putty-nosed, Academy Award-winning turn, Nicole Kidman as Virginia — upped the portentousness, not least through Philip Glass’s soundtrack. Gravely impassioned and endlessly undulating, Glass’s score is so closely associated with this material that writing new “Hours” music is, as Puts said in a recent interview in The New York Times, something like writing a “Star Wars” opera without anything by John Williams.

In Tom Pye’s scenic design, the three stories are presented on realistic islands that float around a bare stage.Credit…Sara Krulwich/The New York Times

There are streaks of Minimalism in Puts’s watery rippling, as there are throughout his body of work. But though he repeats rhythmic and melodic motifs, the effect is gentler and less chugging than Glass, and — as in “Silent Night” (2012), Puts’s Pulitzer Prize-winning opera about a Christmas cease-fire during World War I — all else is pushed into the background by surging, strings-forward lyricism.

Early in “The Hours,” Puts introduces passing hints of distinctions between the women’s worlds: for 1923, austere piano and a curdled atmosphere of syncopated winds and eerie pricks of strings; for 1949, some period light swing and echoes of the style of cheerful ad jingles. But nearly every scene in the opera eventually gets to the same place musically and dramatically, whipped into soaring emotion. The tear-jerking gets tiring.

Pierce’s libretto artfully brings the women into even closer proximity than in the novel or film, enabling Puts to create, for example, gorgeous close-harmony duets for Virginia and Laura. But an awkward scene with Clarissa at the florist — Mrs. Dalloway, per Woolf’s classic opening line, is buying the flowers herself — doesn’t seem sure whether it is, or should be, comic relief. A late trio for Clarissa; her dying friend, Richard; and Louis, with whom they were enmeshed in a youthful love triangle, goes on far too long.

The choral writing, which starts the opera pretty clearly representing the voices in the characters’ heads, gradually dissolves into a vaguer, more all-purpose texture — and occasionally into stentorian wails, like the villagers’ music in “Peter Grimes.” A vocalizing countertenor (John Holiday), mystifyingly called the Man Under the Arch in the cast list, hovers around, faintly suggesting the angelic.

Yannick Nézet-Séguin, the Met’s music director, gave the work its premiere in March in concert with the Philadelphia Orchestra, which he also leads, and whose strings blossom in a way that sumptuously rewarded Puts’s score.

But on Tuesday — with Nézet-Séguin making his first appearance at the opera house this season, nearly two months in — the Met’s orchestra brought muscular energy to what could easily turn turgid and syrupy. (The most risible part in Philadelphia, in which a contemporary novelist named, yes, Michael arrives onstage to swear his devotion to Woolf, has thankfully been excised.)

In Tom Pye’s set, the three women’s domestic spaces are realistic islands floating around a bare stage, an efficient solution to a fast-flowing drama. But Phelim McDermott’s production clutters the smooth action with choristers, actors and dancers who, in Annie-B Parson’s dull choreography, sleepwalk, slouch, wield flowers like cheerleader pom-poms, wave pots and pans, slump atop chairs and sprawl over floors.

Fleming, center, among flowers held by dancers in Annie-B Parson’s choreography.Credit…Sara Krulwich/The New York Times

Denyce Graves, Sean Panikkar and Brandon Cedel bring dignity to the protagonists’ romantic partners; Kathleen Kim has a piquant cameo as the coloratura-wielding florist; and, best of all, Kyle Ketelsen sings the strong-willed, delusional Richard with haunting authority.

O’Hara, her classical technique secure enough to have brought her success at the Met in “The Merry Widow” and “Così Fan Tutte,” is a focused actress — watch the quiet terror of her slow walk back toward her son from center stage — even if her bright, silvery soprano takes on a slight edge at full cry.

But it is hard to focus on anyone else when DiDonato is onstage, often standing magnetically still. Her voice is clear in fast conversation, as she darkly relishes the words. Then, as the lines slow and expand, her tone grows smoky yet grounded, mellow yet potent. She plays Virginia as solemn and severe, but with a dry wit; if anything, she comes off as almost too robust to make paralyzing depression entirely plausible.

DiDonato is a commanding enough singer and presence to render persuasive what had seemed in Philadelphia like bombastic overkill: a booming fantasy of London, a crashing evocation of incapacitating headaches. It’s only at the very top of its range that her voice tightens a bit; all in all, though, she gives a generous, noble portrayal, at its peak in her crushing delivery of lines from Woolf’s suicide note.

The poignancy of the plot is amplified by Fleming, who has returned to the Met’s stage sounding pale: not frail or ugly, but at first almost inaudible and by the end underpowered, a pencil sketch of her former plushness. Having bid farewell to the standard repertory, this diva never wanted to age into opera’s supporting mother characters, and she has the influence to commission works like this, in which she can still be cast as the lead.

But just as Clarissa Vaughan throbs with nostalgia for her life a few decades before, so we listen to Fleming at this point in her career and hear, deep in our ears, her supreme nights in this theater in the 1990s and early 2000s: as Mozart’s Countess, Verdi’s Desdemona, Carlisle Floyd’s Susannah, Tchaikovsky’s Tatyana.

And as Strauss’s Marschallin in “Der Rosenkavalier,” in which she made her last staged appearance here in 2017, and whose sublime final trio is rendingly recalled in “The Hours,” as Clarissa, Laura and Virginia at last acknowledge one another, joining in sober then swelling harmony. It’s a superb sequence, a nod to Strauss that has a sweet longing all its own.

“I wanted to make something good, something true,” Richard tells Clarissa near the end of the opera. “It didn’t have to be great.”

That’s a reasonable standard. And, measured against it, Puts and Pierce have succeeded.

The Hours

Through Dec. 15 at the Metropolitan Opera, Manhattan; metopera.org.

24 Nov 2022 0 comment
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The Soaring Legacy of Pablo Milanés

by SITKI KOVALI 23 Nov 2022
written by SITKI KOVALI

Pablo Milanés, who died in Madrid this week at 79, left behind a body of work that was deeply personal even as he navigated one of the 20th century’s most tumultuous political experiments, the Cuban Revolution. His career was an open dialogue with the revolutionary government that had once jailed him, then propped him up as one of its most powerful ideological icons. More recently Milanés, who moved to Spain several years ago to seek cancer treatment, resumed his critical stance toward the Cuban government. But he never renounced his artistic labor, that of the singer with a story to tell about loves lost and won, a towering voice with a guitar and a sense of poetry and swing.

While some may define Milanés’s career as a product of a Cuban reality, long estranged from the United States, his art and its appeal had broad international repercussions. Having begun his career in his hometown, Bayamo, singing boleros and Mexican rancheras, he eventually collaborated with Latin American legends like the recently departed Gal Costa, as well as Milton Nascimento, Lucecita Benítez and Fito Páez. As one of the originators of the post-revolutionary genre nueva trova, he combined elements of Cuban son and guaracha with soul, jazz and folk rock.

His “Son de Cuba a Puerto Rico” from 1978 immediately changed the way I thought about the Caribbean’s sea-disrupted continuity, and the still-unfolding story of two former Spanish colonies. With its opening lyric — based on a poem by the early 20th-century Puerto Rican poet Lola Rodríguez de Tió — proclaiming that the two islands were “two wings of the same bird,” the song was an emotional reverie about divergent destinies and a desire for a shared future. “I invite you on my flight,” he crooned, “and we’ll search together for the same sky.”

Milanés’s first successful recording, “Mis 22 Años” (“My 22 Years”), released in 1965, was emblematic of the role he played in the evolution of trova in Cuba. The original trovadores were migrant troubadours who also dabbled in bolero and bufo, a kind of satirical musical theater, gradually incorporating Afro-Cuban rhythms. By the late 1940s, an update of trova called filin (a Spanish spelling of “feeling”) emerged, influenced by American jazz singers like Sarah Vaughan and Ella Fitzgerald. “Mis 22 Años” is grounded in filin, yet some consider it the first nueva trova song.

The nueva trova movement was supposed to represent a break from older traditions of socially conscious music in Cuba and help to define the “New Man” promoted by its leaders. It was a genre cobbled together from the voices of children of the revolution, some singing its praises, others challenging what they saw as restrictions. Milanés was deemed to be rebellious and, according to a 2015 interview he gave to El País, he spent time in UMAP, a forced labor camp where dissidents and homosexuals were sent.

Milanés onstage in Spain in 2021. His striking tenor was all the more powerful when it wavered in emotion.Credit…Miguel Paquet/EPA, via Shutterstock

In the 1970s nueva trova became a major force in Cuban music, with Milanés and Silvio Rodríguez, who openly borrowed from American folk-rock artists like Bob Dylan, its leading figures. While Milanés and Rodríguez often worked together and supported each other, in some ways they symbolized Cuba’s racial complexity. Milanés set poems by the Afro-Cuban poet Nicolás Guillén to music and collaborated with the Afro-Cuban filin singers Elena Burke andOmara Portuondo, while the lighter-skinned Rodríguez was famously connected with the folk singer Pete Seeger.

Milanés was most effective when he reached into those deeper recesses where Black singers find soul, like Al Green at his most yearning. His striking tenor was all the more powerful when it wavered in emotion — a slight trill paints the chorus of songs like “Yolanda,” dedicated to his former wife. In “La Vida no Vale Nada,” which insists that life has no value as long as there are victims of violence and the rest of us remain silent, Milanés is perhaps at his heart-aching best, sharply poignant, wounded yet determined.

Milanés’s syncopated swing and filin-flavored nueva trova translates a little more easily to the Puerto Rican wing of his mythical Caribbean bird. In 1994, a new salsa version of “Son de Cuba a Puerto Rico” was recorded by the Afro-Cuban singer Issac Delgado on “Con Ganas,” which was distributed by the U.S. label Qbadisc; it introduced him to American listeners and remains popular in Puerto Rico. In the improvisational section, Delgado name-checks the Puerto Rican favorites Rafael Hernández, Tite Curet, Cheo Feliciano and Ismael Rivera, and the rhetorical feel of the original becomes more of a dance party.

In the mid-1980s, Milanés wrote a song called “Yo Me Quedo” (“I’m Staying”), which resonated deeply with Puerto Ricans because it expressed a desire not to leave the Caribbean island that birthed him, seemingly intended to discourage out-migration. He even performed it in Puerto Rico, riding on its wave of loyalty and patriotism as he marched through reasons — the fragrant humidity, the “small, silent things” — that made it impossible to leave. A few years later, the Puerto Rican salsero Tony Vega covered it, indulging in all the materialist trappings of 1980s “salsa sensual,” yet still resonating with locals, losing nothing in the cross-Caribbean translation.

With Milanés’s passing, the contradictions of his life, and the juxtaposition of Cuba’s and Puerto Rico’s fates come into sharper focus. While the islands feature vastly different political systems, both struggle with electrical blackouts, economic austerity and often harsh living conditions that increasingly generate street protest.

Yet even as Milanés continued to speak out against the Cuban government, he was still allowed to return as recently as 2019 to perform massively popular concerts in Havana, performing classics like “Amo Esta Isla” (“I Love This Island”), a song he wrote around the same time he recorded “Yo Me Quedo.” It was a moment when ideology took a back seat to Milanés’s unparalleled talent as a troubadour of love, compelling everyone to reach for the sky.

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Black Can Be Even More Beautiful

by SITKI KOVALI 23 Nov 2022
written by SITKI KOVALI

To say “Black is beautiful” now, in certain areas of the country, is to state the obvious. In other places it may sound like a deliberately provocative political statement. Both responses are part of the legacy of the “Black Is Beautiful” movement, which was founded in the early 1960s and still deeply reverberates throughout American visual popular culture.

The event that sparked the movement was a fashion show titled “Naturally ’62,” held at Harlem’s Purple Manor nightclub on Jan. 28 of that year. It was organized by the African Jazz-Art Society & Studios (AJASS), a group of artists and activists who had formed in 1956 and included Kwame Brathwaite, a photographer, and his brother Elombe Brath, a graphic artist (who had changed his family name). The aim of the movement was to support and empower Black people to recognize that our naturally inherited African attributes — dark skin tones, broad noses, full lips, and coarse or tightly curled hair textures — in addition to our cultural innovations in fashion, music and visual art, are attractive, desirable and praiseworthy. AJASS essentially fomented a subtle revolution in promoting new, diverse templates for beauty that were not based on the European standards that were America’s prevailing models of beauty at the time.

A self-portrait, ca. 1964. Credit…via Kwame Brathwaite and Philip Martin Gallery, Los Angeles

One of the first things that occurs to me viewing the exhibition “Black Is Beautiful: The Photography of Kwame Brathwaite” at the New-York Historical Society is that the movement’s bequest is complex. The Black is Beautiful movement was simultaneously formed in a defensive posture, and a progressive one, using the language of popular culture imagery to make the case that Black people embody their own kind of allure. It has helped make African Americans generally more visible in the mainstream culture: In 1968, one of the first interracial television kisses (this one between a white man and a Black woman) took place on “Star Trek,” between Captain Kirk and Lieutenant Uhura, though the scene’s actress, Nichelle Nichols, wore her hair in a straightened style typical for the time.

It’s also placed guardrails around the denigration of Black women and other people of color for their genetically endowed physical traits. In 2007, the syndicated talk radio host Don Imus was fired for calling members of the Rutgers University women’s basketball team, “nappy-headed hos.” Though he was back on the air almost eight months later, his treatment demonstrated the profound consequences of using racial slurs.

Yet, despite this public vindication, the acceptance of natural hair in the Black community is still haphazard. Beyoncé’s Super Bowl 2016 performance, in which she visually referenced the Black Panther Party, showcased dancers with blown-out Afros, and a drummer with natural locks, while Beyoncé herself styled her hair in her signature wavy blond tresses — a look that is likely only achievable by using hair extensions.

The exhibition opens with a famous self-portrait of Kwame Brathwaite staring ahead at his subject, lips slightly parted in wonder, one hand holding the shutter release cable of his Rolleiflex camera. (A print of the same image opens a current survey at the University of Minnesota’s Katherine E. Nash gallery: “A Picture Gallery of the Soul,” featuring the work of 100 Black artists.) Brathwaite has been chosen as a national standard-bearer since he poignantly and elegantly documented seven decades of Black life during his career. The visual historian, now in his mid-80s, still lives in New York, on the Upper East Side, though he no longer photographs.

Dress designs are part of the “Black Is Beautiful” exhibit. Credit…Glenn Castellano
The exhibit includes material culture, such as album covers positioned as wall art, and photographs suggesting activism. Credit…Glenn Castellano

The show, which is organized by Aperture in partnership with Kwame S. Brathwaite, Brathwaite’s son and director of the Kwame Brathwaite Archive, is arranged in three galleries along an enfilade. There is a mix of social history, material culture (with album covers positioned as wall art), jewelry arrayed in vitrines, dress designs displayed on mannequins, and Brathwaite’s black and white images that are a mix of fashion photography, promotional shots, street scenes and documentary work. These aspects all merge to form a picture of what the then-burgeoning sense of “natural” beauty meant.

Where it gets troublesome is the difference in the ways Brathwaite depicted men and women. There are images of famous jazz musicians, among them Max Roach, Abbey Lincoln and Miles Davis. The men are for the most part dressed in business attire: suits and ties, while Lincoln wears dresses. The men show in their comportment their expectation to be regarded as professionals.

These images are intermingled with photographs of the Grandassa Models. Their name derives from the term “Grandassaland,” which is how the Black nationalist Carlos A. Cooks, whose teachings Kwame and his group followed, referred to Africa.

Max Roach playing the drums, Harlem, ca. 1962. The men in Brathwaite’s photos, says the writer, show in their comportment their expectation to be regarded as professionals, while women come across as more passive participants.Credit…via Kwame Brathwaite and Philip Martin Gallery, Los Angeles
Grandassa Models at the Merton Simpson Gallery, New York, ca. 1967.Credit…via Kwame Brathwaite and Philip Martin Gallery, Los Angeles

I gleaned this information from the wall texts, but you won’t gather from the images that the women are full co-creators of the Black Is Beautiful movement. Mostly, they are presented as paragons of Black glamour and allure, aided by clothing choices, makeup, lighting and Brathwaite’s conscientious visual composition. They come across as passive participants to the viewer’s gaze.

Take the color photograph titled “Sikolo Brathwaite wearing a headpiece designed by Carolee Prince, African Jazz-Art Society & Studios (AJASS), Harlem” (ca. 1968). It’s a lovely profile of Kwame Brathwaite’s wife against a burnt-orange background, her bare shoulders and collar bones suggesting nakedness beyond the borders of the image, her gaze lowered, impassive and serene. Most of the images of the models similarly show the women in idealized poses, particularly the gorgeously color-saturated portrait triptych at the end of the show.

I am a little surprised when Brathwaite’s son told me that what the Grandassa Models were doing “was more than the aesthetic; it was about activism.” He added, “They were educators and activists who created content to educate people on the African diaspora.” Only one image — “Wigs Parisian protest, Harlem” (1963), which shows women wearing Afros and carrying placards that urge Black people not to shop at that Harlem store — hints at this history. These women aren’t glamorized by Brathwaite’s lens, and I wish the exhibition had made more explicit their roles as co-developers of the movement.

Women urging a boycott of the store called Wigs Parisian (Harlem, 1963) hints at the Grandassa Models’ activism.Credit…via Kwame Brathwaite and Philip Martin Gallery, Los Angeles

One other peculiar aspect of the show, which is not at all a failing but a marker of its historical moment: the ways in which Black “natural” hair and style were imagined. There are no photographs of women or men with braided hair, dread locks or extensions. And their clothing tends to be either quite traditional Western attire, typically worn by the men, or African apparel worn by women, which features more decorative and lively prints. Both streetwear and high fashion in the recent past found ways to combine these influences, but the show proves our notions of “natural” appeal and expressions of it are still evolving, and this exhibition is a useful reminder of how limited our palette once was.

It’s a reminder, too, that we primarily judged women along a continuum of attractiveness and men along a continuum of power. (There are a few exceptions here: an image of Abbey Lincoln singing, head high, her body projecting her will into microphone.)

“Black is Beautiful” suggests how much the labor of the Grandasssa models needs to be properly recognized or celebrated. For them the movement concerned far more than merely being “beautiful.” It was about carving out a space where Black culture in all its permutations is understood as among the country’s most noteworthy achievements, and where the great experiment of this nation continues to inventively thrive. Recognizing their contributions may be the necessary next step in the evolution of the movement.

Black Is Beautiful: The Photography of Kwame Brathwaite

Through Jan. 15, at the New-York Historical Society, 170 Central Park West, Manhattan; (212) 873-3400; nyhistory.org.

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‘The Swimmers’ Review: Overcoming the Greatest Challenges

by SITKI KOVALI 23 Nov 2022
written by SITKI KOVALI

In most movies, an emotional triumph at the Olympics would be the principal goal for a protagonist. In “The Swimmers,” it’s more of a secondary swell. The film dramatizes the story of the sisters Yusra and Sara Mardini, refugees from Syria. When crossing from Turkey to the Greek island of Lesbos, they jumped in the water and swam for three and a half hours, helping their crowded boat complete the passage. Yusra eventually competed on the inaugural refugee team at the 2016 Olympics in Rio de Janeiro.

Directed by Sally El Hosaini, “The Swimmers” is most effective as a procedural of the relentless challenges that the Mardinis faced. Yusra (Nathalie Issa) and Sara (Manal Issa — the actresses are sisters, too), trained as competitive swimmers by their father (Ali Suliman), are shown living in 2015 in a Syria where death can come at any moment. For Sara, the antidote is partying: Both siblings shown dancing at a club as bombs are dropped in the distance. But Yusra, more serious about her swimming, frets. They soon learn of the death of Sara’s third friend within a month.

What might sound like the film’s centerpiece — Sara and Yusra’s harrowing swim — arrives at the one-third mark. Even after the landing in Lesbos, where the camera pulls back to show an overhead view of a vast, frame-filling pile of refugees’ life jackets, the trek requires the Mardinis and others they’ve befriended to trust the right people, spend money wisely and cross borders without being flagged. “The Swimmers” tells this story as an inspirational (but rarely sugarcoated) crowd-pleaser. Within those terms, it hits its marks.

The Swimmers
Rated PG-13. Sexual assault. In English and Arabic, with subtitles. Running time: 2 hours 14 minutes.

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‘The Sound of Christmas’ Review: A Gospel Singer Finds Love

by SITKI KOVALI 23 Nov 2022
written by SITKI KOVALI

Here’s a name you may not have heard in a while: Ne-Yo. The R&B singer known for early aughts hits like “Miss Independent” and “So Sick” stars in “The Sound of Christmas,” a charming new holiday film, as Quentin, a widowed billionaire who falls for his kids’ nanny, Montana.

As the holidays approach, Montana (Serayah McNeill of “Empire”) finds herself unemployed and without a place to stay. She catches a break when Quentin’s mother, Estelle (Roxzane T. Mims), with whom she sings in their church’s choir, offers her a job as a live-in nanny to her two grandchildren, Deirdre (Alijah Kai) and Daniel (Blake James). The film follows Montana as she wins over the children and, eventually, their closed off dad.

Directed by Booker T. Mattison, the church features heavily in “The Sound of Christmas.” Montana is a church girl who breaks up with her boyfriend because she wants to find someone with whom she’s equally yoked, or spiritually aligned. And though Quentin’s mother, and even his snooty girlfriend, Chloe (Draya Michele), are active members of the church, Quentin has not been to a service since his wife’s death — resentful that his prayers to save her were not answered. Montana helps lead him back to religion and brings music back into the family’s life.

The relationship between Montana and the kids is a highlight, as are some of the other secondary relationships. And though the film is as predictable and saccharine as one might expect of holiday fare, viewers who grew up in the Black church may enjoy seeing a relatable and chaste romantic story on-screen.

The Sound of Christmas
Not rated. Running time: 1 hour 36 minutes. Watch on BET+.

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The Dinosaur Bone Market Is Booming. It Also Has Growing Pains.

by SITKI KOVALI 23 Nov 2022
written by SITKI KOVALI

HULETT, Wyo. — Crouching over a snow-dusted quarry that moonlights as a fossil hunting ground, Peter Larson pointed to a weathered four-inch slab peeking out from a blanket of white. A commonplace rock to the untrained eye, but an obvious dinosaur bone to Larson.

“That’s 145 million years old, plus or minus,” said Larson, a 70-year-old fossil expert and dealer, as he walked through an excavation site that had already yielded seven dinosaurs.

Hulett is fertile ground for the current dinosaur-bone hunting craze, its population of buried dinosaurs very possibly exceeding its human population of 309. Larson has been digging here for more than 20 years, beginning not long after Sue, a Tyrannosaurus rex fossil that he helped excavate, sold at auction for $8.4 million in 1997, ushering in a boom in the market for old bones. A wave of amateur excavators headed for fossil-rich hills, and local landowners started to wonder if they could farm a new crop: dinosaur skeletons.

Among them were Elaine and Leslie Waugh, who raised sheep on their Wyoming property, not far from the Devils Tower National Monument, but who began to wonder what they should do about all the dinosaur fossils they kept finding in the dirt.

“We just figured that we should do something with them bones,” said Leslie Waugh, 93. They called Larson, whose company’s excavations here — including a Camarasaurus, a Barosaurus and a Brachiosaurus — required years of painstaking digging.

Fossil hunting has become a multimillion-dollar business, much to the chagrin of academic paleontologists who worry that specimens of scientific interest are being sold off to the highest bidders.

Sue’s record price was beaten by Stan, another T. rex that Larson’s company excavated, which Christie’s sold at auction in 2020 for $31.8 million. This year a Deinonychus (the inspiration for the Velociraptors depicted in the film “Jurassic Park”) sold for $12.4 million, a Gorgosaurus fetched $6.1 million, and Sotheby’s sold a single T. rex tooth for more than $100,000. Next month, a T. rex skull is estimated to fetch between $15 million and $20 million. Buyers include financiers, Hollywood stars, tech industry leaders and a crop of new or developing natural history museum facilities in China and the Middle East.

Fossils being prepared at the Black Hills Institute in Hill City were found at a ranch in Hulett, Wyo.Credit…Tara Weston for The New York Times

This month Christie’s had hoped for another blockbuster dinosaur auction, expecting a T. rex skeleton named Shen to fetch between $15 million and $25 million. But the sale in Hong Kong was called off this week, just 10 days before it was scheduled to take place, after Larson and others raised questions about the specimen and how it was being marketed.

Larson, who seems to be involved in most dinosaur-world dramas these days, was examining a photograph of Shen when he realized that it seemed familiar: Its skull looked a lot like Stan’s. “The scars on Stan’s face are still there, the teeth are in the same position,” Larson said.

Larson’s company, the Black Hills Institute of Geological Research, retains intellectual property rights to Stan, selling polyurethane casts of the specimen for $120,000 each. After a lawyer for the Black Hills Institute raised the issue in emails and phone calls, Christie’s clarified its online marketing materials to note that Shen had been supplemented with replicas of Stan’s bones. On Sunday, Christie’s withdrew Shen from the sale altogether, saying it would “benefit from further study.”

Shen, the T. rex specimen that Christie’s decided not to auction off this month. It had been valued at up to $25 million.Credit…How Hwee Young/EPA, via Shutterstock

Larson is either a famed fossil expert or an infamous one, depending on how one feels about the booming market for bones. He has been a central character in the introduction of dinosaurs to the auction market, and his nearly 50-year career has been marked by court battles over bones, an 18-month stint in federal prison after he was convicted of customs violations involving fossil deals abroad, a messy legal fight with his brother over their fossil company, and now a spat with an auction house over a high-profile sale.

The Fine Arts & Exhibits Special Section

  • Bigger and Better: While the Covid-19 pandemic forced museums to close for months, cut staff and reduce expenses, several of them have nevertheless moved forward on ambitious renovations or new buildings.
  • A Tribute to Black Artists: Four museums across the country are featuring exhibitions this fall that recognize the work of African and African American artists, signaling a change in attitude — and priorities.
  • New and Old: In California, museums are celebrating and embracing Latino and Chicano art and artists. And the La Brea Tar Pits & Museum is working to engage visitors about the realities of climate change.
  • A Cultural Correction: After removing all references to Columbus from its collections the Denver Art Museum has embraced a new exhibition on Latin American art.
  • More From the Special Section: Museums, galleries and auction houses are opening their doors wider than ever to new artists, new concepts and new traditions.

Things were simpler at the beginning of his career, Larson said, when universities, museums and a smaller group of private collectors were the only ones who cared about buying pieces of natural history.

It was not until 1997, with the sale of Sue, that dinosaurs started to be viewed as potential centerpieces of auctions.

But for Larson, putting Sue on the auction block was not part of the plan.

A T. rex Named Sue

Driving his pickup truck back from the fossil quarry in Wyoming, Larson recalled losing Sue.

The trouble had started in 1992, when Larson stepped out of the shower to find his fossil business in Hill City, S.D., blocked off with yellow tape and swarmed by F.B.I. agents. They had a search warrant demanding that the institute surrender Sue, known as the largest T. rex specimen ever found at the time.

The skeleton had been discovered two years earlier by Sue Hendrickson, then a volunteer excavator, who had stumbled upon bones sticking out from a cliffside on the Cheyenne River Reservation. As the Black Hills team — including Larson and his brother Neal Larson — finished the excavation of Sue, it gave the landowner, Maurice Williams, a check for $5,000.

But the U.S. government contended that Sue was, in fact, its property because the land where Sue was found was held in trust by the government. Williams also asserted that there had never been any deal for the fossil company to buy Sue: He disputed that the $5,000 was for the fossil, saying he had thought it was for access to the land.

Sue Hendrickson, who discovered the T. rex fossil that was named Sue in her honor, posed with its skull in 1997 before it was sold at auction for $8.4 million.Credit…Emile Wamsteker/Associated Press

Larson’s company sued the government to get Sue back, but after an appeals court ruled against the institute, Williams was ultimately allowed to put the skeleton up for auction in a sale brokered by Sotheby’s, which advertised it as a “highly important and virtually complete fossil skeleton.” The winning bidder was the Field Museum of Natural History in Chicago, which had financial backing from Disney and McDonald’s. The sale changed the field.

“People, especially wealthy people, realized, ‘Hey, I can buy one of these!’” said George Winters, the administrative director of a trade group Larson helped start that represents fossil dealers.

Once the money was there, the shovels followed.

“I call them the dinosaur dreamers,” Larson said. “The people who had the idea that all you had to do is drive up to an outcrop, tie a log chain on a dinosaur’s tail, drag it out of the ground and sell it for millions.”

Seeking to crack down on the commercial industry, the federal government charged Larson and his colleagues with a deluge of fossil-related offenses that were unrelated to the excavation of Sue. In 1995 Larson was convicted of two felony customs violations involving a failure to declare money related to fossil deals. He served 18 months of a two-year sentence; while in prison he gave lessons on fossils as part of a lecture series.

In 2000, as Larson prepared to turn the Waugh quarry into a dig site, Sue was unveiled at the Field Museum, and its 600-pound skull became the face of the growing public fascination with dinosaurs.

Sue was bought by the Field Museum of Natural History in Chicago.Credit…Tim Boyle/Newsmakers, via Getty Images

Stan Shatters Records

If Larson had his way, Stan, the company’s next big find after Sue, would have stayed on display forever at the company’s museum in Hill City, a former gold mining settlement near Mount Rushmore that bustles each summer with tourists and bikers drawn to the area for the annual Sturgis Motorcycle Rally.

Stan was discovered by an amateur paleontologist named Stan Sacrison. In 1992 the Black Hills Institute began the excavation, using a jackhammer, picks and shovels to dig it out of a butte in northwestern South Dakota. The next year, as the company continued work on the skeleton, the movie “Jurassic Park” opened in theaters, fueling popular interest in dinosaurs.

After the Black Hills Institute lost Sue, Stan became the pride of the company. The fossil toured Japan like a rock star. Casts of the skeleton were purchased by museums around the world. And because the specimen had so many original bones — 190 — Stan was ripe for scientific study.

But as with Sue, the sale of Stan was the resolution of a long legal battle.

Larson examining the jaw and teeth of Stan in 1997. The whole specimen broke records when it sold in 2020 for $31.8 million.Credit…Greg Latza/Associated Press

In 2015 Neal Larson filed a lawsuit against his brother Peter and other leaders at the Black Hills Institute, claiming that he had been unlawfully fired from the company’s board. A judge sided with him. Peter Larson said the company’s lawyer at the time had the idea to offer Stan to Neal Larson to buy out his share of the company. At the time, no one realized just how valuable the fossil would prove.

The 40-foot-long fossil went on display behind floor-to-ceiling windows at Christie’s in Manhattan in 2020. Stan sold that year for $31.8 million — a record for a fossil, and nearly four times the auction house’s high estimate. National Geographic reported this year that the specimen would be featured in a developing natural history museum in the United Arab Emirates.

“It was a shock that a fossil could go for that much money,” said Steve Brusatte, a paleontologist at the University of Edinburgh.

Scientists Feel Priced Out

Many scientists are aghast at the growing commercial market, and increasingly anxious that scientifically important specimens will disappear into private mansions. Paleontologists are also concerned that the market could encourage illegal digging, and that American landowners — who, by law, generally own the fossils found on their land — would favor commercial fossil hunters over academic researchers.

“Ranchers who used to let you go and collect specimens are now wondering why they should let you have it for free,” said Jingmai O’Connor, a Field Museum paleontologist, “when a commercial collector would dig up the bones and split the profit.”

Fossil diggers and dealers in the commercial sphere counter that if not for them, these specimens on private land would be left to erode further, never to be found.

The United States is an outlier legally. Other dinosaur-rich nations, including Mongolia and Canada, have laws making fossils the property of the government. Thomas Carr, a paleontologist at Carthage College in Wisconsin, said he believed that the lack of protections for “natural heritage” puts scientists in the United States at a disadvantage.

Larson — who does not have an advanced degree, saying that he had started working on a doctorate in paleontology before withdrawing because of mounting legal bills and the lingering effects of the Great Recession — sees it as a good thing that the broader public is assigning this kind of value to fossils, which he has loved since he was 4 years old.

“You should be happy that fossils are being appreciated like works of art,” Larson said. (Minutes before Stan had hit the auction block, a Mark Rothko painting sold for $31.3 million, a half-million less than the fossil.)

Unlike his brother, Peter Larson did not profit from the auction of Stan, but he does a brisk business in selling replicas of the fossil — the company retains its intellectual property rights, often sticking a “TM” at the top corner of the name Stan to note it is trademarked. And he recently finalized a deal that suggests the current bone bonanza extends beyond high-profile auctions: He has sold the Camarasaurus, Barosaurus and Brachiosaurus that his team unearthed on the Waugh land to a museum abroad. (Like many of his peers in the often secretive commercial fossil world, Larson signed a nondisclosure agreement barring him from sharing the buyer or price.)

“This is the first time when I’m not worried about paying the bills,” Larson said.

“It takes thousands of hours to build a dinosaur,” Larson said.Credit…Tara Weston for The New York Times

Shen’s Face Rings a Bell

When Christie’s in Hong Kong announced its sale of Shen, praising it as a “world-class specimen,” several paleontologists expressed misgivings.

Christie’s said in its marketing materials that Shen was “54 percent represented by bone density,” a measure that some fossil experts questioned. Shen has about 79 original bones, the auction house noted. While the precise bone count for a T. rex is not known with certainty, and can vary depending on methodology, some scientists have estimated that a complete skeleton would contain 300 bones, and others 380.

Shen’s resemblance to Stan drew notice from experts in the field.

After Luke Santangelo, a lawyer for the Black Hills Institute, pressed Christie’s to be transparent in its marketing materials about just how much of Shen was a replica of Stan, the auction house added a note to its website: “Replica bones that were added to original bones (referred to as STAN™ elements) were created by, and purchased from, Black Hills Institute of Geological Research, Inc.”

It is common for T. rex fossils to be incomplete, and to be supplemented with casts. But the standards for measuring completeness — and disclosing it — tend to vary widely. Should it be by the number of bones? The size of the bones? How should fragments count?

The Field Museum estimates that Sue is 90 percent complete by what it calls bone volume. The American Museum of Natural History’s T. rex skeleton, which was discovered in 1908, is less than 50 percent real bone, the museum said.

The notion of completeness has taken on new importance as more people are trying to sell dinosaur fossils for prices that can hit eight figures.

At Larson’s preparatory lab in Hill City, the staff is cataloging the bones of the three long-necked dinosaurs that were found buried in the Waugh quarry and sold to a museum abroad.

Bones of the Camarasaurus, Barosaurus and Brachiosaurus were stocked on shelves and laid out on tables, waiting to be made display-ready: a scapula the size of the hood of a car, a nearly five-foot-long femur, a tail vertebra that felt as heavy as a bowling ball.

As part of its three-year project, the team has been peeling back the foil and plaster that encased the bones and blowing off the remaining dust and rock with targeted blasts of baking soda. The workers are gluing the broken pieces together like a massive prehistoric puzzle, filling cracks in the bones with epoxy resin.

“It takes thousands of hours to build a dinosaur,” Larson said.

Eventually the bones will be packed into crates, stabilized with the same kind of foam used to protect famous paintings, trucked out of South Dakota and put on a plane.

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Jenna Ortega Knows What Wednesday Addams Wants

by SITKI KOVALI 23 Nov 2022
written by SITKI KOVALI

Jenna Ortega has been locked in a basement with a corpse in “X.” She has shot a serial killer to death in “Scream.” She has shredded a satanic cult member with a boat propeller in “The Babysitter: Killer Queen.”

She also slept with the lights on until she was a teenager.

“I was a massive scaredy-cat,” said Ortega, who plays the title character in the new Netflix murder mystery series “Wednesday,” based on the pigtailed and pessimistic Addams Family character, which debuted — when else? — on Wednesday.

Nevertheless, here she is, the star of a series that, for all its icy humor, features at least one dismemberment and one disembowelment in the pilot alone. (Tim Burton directed the first four episodes.) But for Ortega, the interest lies in the character’s deeper layers.

“My Wednesday has this concealed confidence,” Ortega said on a bright Sunday afternoon earlier this month, her long, dark brown hair whipping in the breeze on a video call as she strolled through downtown Salt Lake City, holding her phone in front of her. “She’s on a mission, and she won’t let anyone get in her way.”

Unlike the “Addams Family” films of the early 1990s, in which Christina Ricci played a 10-year-old Wednesday Addams, the new eight-episode series, set in the present day, features Ortega as a 16-year-old version of the character, who is sent to a boarding school for outcasts after an incident gets her expelled from her public high school. (It involves piranhas and a pool full of bullies; Wednesday does not regret it.)

Even in a school populated by vampires and werewolves — her parents, Morticia and Gomez (played by Catherine Zeta-Jones and Luis Guzmán), met there as students — Wednesday is a freak among freaks, a frequent subject of gossip because of her and her family’s rumored-to-be-bloody past. But Wednesday is also the latest in a long line of teen roles for Ortega, a former Disney star who was in some ways anxious to move on.

Luis Guzmán and Catherine Zeta-Jones, right, play Wednesday’s parents, Gomez and Morticia, who met at the boarding school Wednesday is forced to attend.Credit…Vlad Cioplea/Netflix

“I definitely had hesitations about doing it,” she said. “I’d already been there and done that with teen shows,” she added, and there was the added pressure of taking on her first role from a known franchise.

Still, it’s not every role that requires you to immerse yourself in learning a half-dozen new skills, including fencing, canoeing, archery, German and twice-weekly cello lessons.

“I was pulling my hair out over that one,” she said. “Everyone in my close circle knows what that cello did to me.”

At 20, Ortega has already been performing in front of cameras for half her life, and she has the self-assurance to match. She grew up the fourth of sixth children in a Mexican neighborhood in La Quinta, Calif., in the Coachella Valley, where she caught the acting bug as a young child.

“I saw Dakota Fanning in ‘Man on Fire’ and told my parents, ‘Guys, I’m going to be the Puerto Rican Dakota Fanning,” she said, trees flashing past as she walked through the city in a green turtleneck, big black headphones wrapped around her neck. (Her father is of Mexican descent; her mother’s heritage is Mexican and Puerto Rican.)

She spent the next three years “begging nonstop” to be an actor before her mother, an emergency room nurse, bought her a book of monologues — and posted a video of her performing one to Facebook when she was 9. A casting director saw it, and within a year, Ortega had booked her first TV role, on the short-lived sitcom “Rob,” with Rob Schneider.

A cascade of roles followed, including young Jane in “Jane the Virgin” when she was 10 and, when she was 12, a lead role as Harley Diaz in the Disney Channel sitcom “Stuck in the Middle” (2016-18). A month later, she withdrew from her eighth-grade classes to pursue her Disney dream.

“Stuck in the Middle” lasted three seasons, after which Ortega was eager to book more mature roles. But her Disney experience, she discovered, came with limitations.

“There’s a huge stigma that comes with being a Disney kid,” she said. “People automatically make the assumption that it’s all you can do, or all you were meant for.”

She experienced a crisis of confidence: She felt, she said, as if she had forgotten how to act.

“You use a different set of tools,” she said of non-Disney roles. “And mine were all dusty and shoved in the corner behind pink and glitter and mouse ears.”

But things soon picked up: In 2018, she was cast opposite Penn Badgley in the second season of the psychological thriller “You,” then landed her first of several horror roles in “The Babysitter: Killer Queen” in 2020.

Her breakout role came in “The Fallout,” released in January, which focuses on the aftermath of a high school shooting. It was Megan Park’s directorial debut and Ortega’s first time leading a film. It was also widely acclaimed.

“Her ability to know when to give her all and when to hold back — to have that understanding of herself as a performer at such a young age — is really rare,” Park said in a recent phone conversation.

“You use a different set of tools,” Ortega said of the roles she sought after outgrowing Disney sitcoms. “Mine were all dusty and shoved in the corner behind pink and glitter and mouse ears.”Credit…Amanda Hakan for The New York Times

When the creators and showrunners of “Wednesday,” Al Gough and Miles Millar (“Smallville”), began developing their lead character, they didn’t want to follow the typical shy-to-confident arc of teenage female protagonists. The two men each have two teenage daughters. They knew better.

“Wednesday starts strong and stays that way,” Millar said. “She’s unapologetic, fearless, smart, weird — it’s very rare to see a female teen character who’s that sure of herself.”

After writing the first four episodes, they had only one director in mind: Burton, who had passed on the “Addams Family” movie in 1991 because of a scheduling conflict.

“We thought he probably wouldn’t even read it,” Gough said of Burton, who hadn’t directed a television series since the 1980s. “We thought we’d have higher odds of winning the Powerball.”

To their surprise, Burton called them four days after receiving the script for the first episode.

“It brought up memories of my school days,” Burton, who also served as an executive producer, said in a recent video interview from Los Angeles. “The characters were the reason I wanted to do it; I didn’t have the burning desire to do, necessarily, television.”

But bringing their collective vision to fruition was going to require the perfect Wednesday. They auditioned hundreds of actresses, but Ortega brought to the character the empathy they were looking for.

“She’s like a silent film actress,” Burton said. “She emotes with her eyes.”

Burton, the director of classic horror-fantasy films like “Beetlejuice” and “Edward Scissorhands,” got to work putting his stamp on the series, which was filmed in Romania over eight months in 2021 and 2022, taking inspiration, he said, from the original drawings of the New Yorker cartoonist Charles Addams, who created the Addams Family in 1938. Burton was involved in even the smallest details, styling Ortega’s bangs himself with a comb before a hairdresser sprayed them into place and instructing Ortega on how Wednesday should stand.

“She had very good instincts,” Tim Burton (left, during production of “Wednesday”) said of Ortega. Burton directed the series’s first four episodes. Credit…Tomasz Lazar/Netflix

“Tim wanted someone to walk by and think I was a mannequin,” Ortega said. “He told me to act like I had a stack of books or a teacup on my head. I got great posture out of it.”

But he was also remarkably hands-off when it came to other elements, Ortega said, allowing her the freedom to arrive at her own interpretation of the character.

“She had very good instincts,” Burton said.

Zeta-Jones said she was impressed by Ortega’s assertiveness in protecting her vision of Wednesday. “She was not intimidated by Tim,” she said. “He’s this great director, but she’d question him — ‘I’ll do it that way, but can we also try it this way?’ — and that’d be the take they took.”

Ortega said it was impossible, though, to completely overlook the pressure of stepping into a role immortalized by Ricci, who plays a newly created character in the series, that of the most “normal” teacher at the school.

“With a character that iconic, you want to do her justice,” Ortega said.

Is she worried she’ll be pigeonholed as a horror queen, especially after “Wednesday”? “A little,” she said. But she still finds it hard to turn down a horror script.

“Horror is very therapeutic,” she said. “You’re screaming bloody murder — you don’t get the chance to do that in your everyday life — so it’s a way to excavate all the unnecessary, pent-up stress.”

23 Nov 2022 0 comment
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5 Classical Music Albums You Can Listen to Right Now

by SITKI KOVALI 23 Nov 2022
written by SITKI KOVALI

Schumann: The Symphonies

Staatskapelle Berlin; Daniel Barenboim, conductor (Deutsche Grammophon)

These recordings of Schumann’s four symphonies, made last year, are a glorious testament to the qualities that have made Daniel Barenboim, sadly now ailing, such an important, unique conductor for so long.

All the old Barenboim trademarks are present and correct in this, his third Schumann survey: an heirloom sound, the dark veins audible in the Staatskapelle Berlin’s chestnut strings; characterful playing, but only as far as is necessary to drive the symphonic argument; whole movements cast as single arcs, yet with such a natural ebb and flow within them; a sense of harmonic progress so sure that it is as if the conductor is lecturing you on the structure of the piece even as he gives it life. And, in three of the symphonies, there is also the inconsistency that is the unfortunate, inevitable corollary of the conductor’s thirst for spontaneity, though far less dramatically here than elsewhere in his discography.

But the Second! I cannot say that I have heard all of Barenboim’s many hundreds of recordings, but I would be astonished if this scorching performance did not rank among the finest of them. There is an electrifying, Beethoven-like impetuosity of development to it, but its intricate lines constantly sing out; the Staatskapelle’s musicians seem almost to be talking to one another, so communicative is their playing. Wilhelm Furtwängler, Barenboim’s lifelong idol, would surely be proud. DAVID ALLEN

Beethoven: Complete Symphonies & Barry: Selected Works

Britten Sinfonia; various soloists; Thomas Adès, conductor (Signum Classics)

There are institutions for which the recent Arts Council England funding allocation announcement this month was an existential shock. The 30-year-old Britten Sinfonia is one of them, having lost 100 percent of its support; in a statement, Meurig Bowen, the ensemble’s chief executive and artistic director, said, “For us, it was the guillotine, not the salami slicer.”

If any argument was needed for the orchestra’s artistic merit, it is in this Beethoven collection, which brings together previous volumes of a symphony cycle alongside works by the contemporary composer Gerald Barry, all conducted by Thomas Adès.

The Barry contributions can lean toward non sequitur, though sometimes land at just the right moment: “Beethoven,” a setting of the composer’s correspondence, echoes his orchestration; and “The Eternal Recurrence,” a setting of Nietzsche, follows Schiller’s “Ode to Joy,” as if an answer. But the heart of this seven-hour set is the symphonies, which stand out in a crowded field for being so thoroughly, decisively opinionated.

You find yourself compelled by Adès even when not agreeing with him. Listeners may find the extreme attention to detail and texture in the early symphonies fussy. His “Pastoral” is more festive and balletic than serene. Harder to disagree with, though, is the impeccable balance throughout; the dignified restraint of his “Eroica”; the unruliness of his Seventh’s finale, exactly the bacchic romp on the verge of derailment that it should be.

Above all, this is Beethoven that lives. The instruments breathe and crunch. The scores reveal themselves anew. In the hands of these players, they still surprise, after 200 years. JOSHUA BARONE

‘Telekinesis’

Metropolis Ensemble; Brooklyn Youth Chorus; the Crossing; Tyondai Braxton; Andrew Cyr, conductor (New Amsterdam/Nonesuch)

I had been wondering what Tyondai Braxton was up to. This composer (and former frontman for the math-rock indie outfit Battles) hadn’t released an album since 2015. In the years since, he’s put out a few singles and an EP — all enjoyable. But fans of this electronic and orchestral specialist have been waiting for the next big statement. And here it is: “Telekinesis,” a 35-minute piece for 87 players (including the composer, on celesta).

The first movement, “TK1_Overshare,” shows Braxton in full command of his art: Regular low-brass eruptions propose a stuttering swagger alongside seesawing, Minimalist patterns in winds and strings. Brittle electric guitar picking pairs well with hollow percussive fillips. Various sections of the Metropolis Ensemble partake of brooding drone material. The conductor, Andrew Cyr, oversees some thick coloristic blends that muddy the boundary between acoustic and electronic. And that’s before Braxton adds in the singers of the Crossing and the Brooklyn Youth Chorus, during the second track, “TK2_Wavefolder.”

Each section of the score uses material heard during the opening, yet Braxton finds new ways to spin the material and keep things interesting. (The wigged-out electronics during the close of the third movement are a joy; ditto the churning strings and chorus of the fourth.). If “Telekinesis” never goes for the outright dance floor abandon of one of his electronic miniatures, like “Dia,” this work’s chiseled, insular quality proves plenty dynamic on its own obsessive terms. SETH COLTER WALLS

‘Mein Traum’

Judith Fa, Sabine Devieilhe, sopranos; Stéphane Degout, baritone; Ensemble Pygmalion; Raphaël Pichon, conductor (Harmonia Mundi)

Franz Schubert, master melodist and progenitor of the song cycle, never wrote for the theater with success, producing scores for singspiels, operas and incidental music that collect dust on the shelf.

With the new concept album “Mein Traum,” the conductor Raphaël Pichon, working with Ensemble Pygmalion, the baritone Stéphane Degout and the sopranos Judith Fa and Sabine Devieilhe, creates an operatic Schubert pastiche using found materials. Excerpts from his opera “Alfonso und Estrella,” the oratorio “Lazarus” and the “Unfinished” Symphony find new dimension alongside arias by Schumann and Weber.

A dreamlike narrative Schubert wrote down in 1822, one that sums up his song cycles with startling concision, provides the plot: “With a heart full of infinite love for those who spurned that love, I wandered.”

The album feels more like a ghostly mosaic or a mirage — evanescent, bewitching, fragmentary — than an exact telling of that story. For unity, Pichon organizes the program with an ear for instrumental timbres. Dusky horns flow from a Weber aria into the “Unfinished” Symphony’s Andante. Harrowing woodwinds wend throughout the album, and the pairing of bassoon and brass lends it a mournful glow.

The Pygmalion players, adroit in shifting styles, summon graciousness for Schubert and flair for the more theatrically astute composers. Degout, as the protagonist, sings with a vigorous, taut, darkly burnished tone. For her single assignment, Devieilhe somehow transforms Schubert’s overexposed “Ave Maria” into an aria of emotional, rather than spiritual, absolution — allowing the wanderer, finally, to rest. OUSSAMA ZAHR

Schubert: Piano Sonatas, D. 537, 568 & 664

Paul Lewis, piano (Harmonia Mundi)

“The music is at its most powerful when you allow it to speak for itself,” the British pianist Paul Lewis told The New York Times this year. He was speaking about late Brahms, but that idea could almost stand as a maxim for Lewis’s artistry as a whole. His interpretation of the Viennese Classical and early Romantic tradition — often so nuanced and understated that it hardly seems like interpretation at all — has made him one of the most admired pianists in this repertoire.

Nowhere have his efforts been more successful than in the music of Schubert. Having already set down first-rate recordings of this composer’s later sonatas, he turns here to three comparatively youthful works, for an artist who died at 31. Sunny, Mozartean lyricism dominates the sonatas in A (D. 664) and E flat (D. 568), seesawing turbulence and repose in the A minor (D. 537).

Yet even in these relatively early works there are occasional glimpses into the darkness that would nearly engulf Schubert’s music later on. Lewis renders everything with his now-familiar immaculate tone and elegant phrasing. His disinclination to push and pull at tempo or dynamics means that when moments of crisis arrive — as in the first-movement development of the D. 664 Sonata — they carry outsize force. It takes considerable skill to make music this emotionally charged sound so natural and unaffected. DAVID WEININGER

23 Nov 2022 0 comment
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