The institution of cricket is in many ways closer to the black church than American athletic mainstays such as football or basketball. Many cricketers, especially throughout the diaspora, feel most connected, most celebrated and respected, at the Sunday cricket match. The culture of the match is also a platform for reinforcing and cultivating family. Although the leagues in the five boroughs are primarily male, every member of the family attends matches from the eldest to the youngest and they are all day events that include full dinner and music.
The New York leagues are very much tied to the maintenance of the West Indian and Pakistani immigrant communities of the outer boroughs. Cricket has been able to flourish in Brooklyn, Queens, the Bronx, and Staten Island on the fringe of growing gentrification. Many of the parks the sport is played in are difficult to get to from Manhattan, buried in some of the vast and beautiful parks that serve communities such as Canarsie, East Flatbush, and East New York, as well as Pelham Bay in the Bronx. I do wonder how that will change as gentrification pushes farther out into the boroughs.
Lance Wakeling, Field Visits for Chelsea Manning (Excerpt), 2014 Video, color, sound, 1:50 minutes
Field Visits for Chelsea Manning is a first-person travelogue that revisits the locations where Manning, the former Army intelligence analyst, was detained from 2010-11. The one-hour video takes viewers through Kuwait, Virginia, Kansas, and Maryland.
Using the concept of mosaic theory—an American intelligence-gathering technique, which employs the collection of disparate pieces of information in order to craft a larger picture or narrative—Wakeling charts a highly personal, imagined geography of the areas surrounding Manning’s geo-detention sites.
Rather than directly address Manning’s fate after the release of classified documents to Wikileaks, the narrative unfolds through a series of serendipitous collisions between the filmmaker and current events, such as a Civil War reenactment, a barbershop quartet dressed as prisoners, and drinking coffee in a business park for national security contractors.
The disorientation of Guatanamo (via Edmund Clark: Three Ideas of Home - Guernica / A Magazine of Art & Politics)
The residents of Beijing’s Songzhuang Artists’ Colony like to roam and love to drink, and when they combine the two, they need a ride home.
Although he relies on their patronage to make a living, Lao Jin doesn’t keep his distance from those he chauffeurs—he banters and badgers, shares financial worries, offers uncanny pop-criticism of their work, asks for prints, and promotes their cause to anyone who will listen.
“Understand?” he asks a baffled onlooker at a “happening,” as one artist busies himself stacking bricks and another strips naked and scrapes his ass across a road sign. “If you don’t, watch and learn.”
Bestiaire’s silence, visual style, and beauty leaves you awestruck. What the film doesn’t do is explicitly promote anthropomorphism; in fact, Côté has written that he filmed Bestiaire in opposition to precisely that tendency in nature films. So it’s against his will that the film incites such a reaction anyway and in droves. One of the first animals we see, a llama pacing by the edge of his enclosure in the middle of winter, might be warding off the cold, anxiously awaiting his next meal, or perhaps it’s wondering why suddenly no one comes to visit anymore.