Categories
Arts

ARTS Pick: Yarn

For some artists, hitting the road is synonymous with coming home. The Brooklyn-based quartet Yarn, which recently planted its bluegrass roots in North Carolina, has notched more than a thousand shows across the country. It even has a Grammy nomination stapled to its name, and has shared the stage with both Alison Krauss and The Lumineers. The freshly revamped Americana band’s most recent release, This Is the Year, oozes optimism and quakes with anticipation for musical and personal triumphs to come. Adam’s Plastic Pond opens.

Friday, September 21. $10-12, 8:30pm. The Southern Café & Music Hall, 103 S. First St. 977-5590.

Categories
Arts

ARTS Pick: The Secret Rain

Casey Horn is growing old, and with age comes a whole lot of trouble—between his mother’s poor taste in men, his younger brother’s out-of-this-world obsession, and the neighbor girl’s frustrating lack of interest, he’s finding that life isn’t exactly grand. The Secret Rain follows Casey as he navigates these obstacles with the help of Audrey Hepburn (yes, the film star). Produced by the Charlottesville Playwrights Collaborative, with a mission to reveal the city’s hidden writing talents, this one was penned by Robert Wray.

Through Saturday, September 29. Pay-what-you-can, 8pm. Belmont Arts Collaborative, 221 Carlton Rd., Ste. 3. cvilleplays.org.

Categories
Arts

Due diligence: The Wife is an intelligent look at love and conflict

There may be no better time for The Wife than this moment, in which the role of the male genius whose achievements came at the expense of unrecognized or exploited women is under scrutiny. (A few months in the doghouse, it seems, is plenty of time for celebrated entertainers to atone for sexually assaulting or intimidating women.) But the enforcing of male dominance at home or in the workplace need not only be specific acts of violence to be monstrous; denying a woman’s voice and right to be recognized for her achievements, then patronizingly claiming to love and value her, is not only maddeningly unjust but manipulative, whether malice is intended or not.

With that as its underlying theme, The Wife goes deeper than a bad man doing bad things to a good woman—it is just as interested in the society that made this situation permissible to begin with. The man in this case, is celebrated author Joseph Castleman (Jonathan Price), who has just won the Nobel Prize in Literature. His wife, Joan (Glenn Close), is excited, supportive, and protective of Joseph’s body of work. He frequently praises her and publicly declares gratitude for her love and support, while always including a bit of devaluation, along the lines of he wouldn’t be a great man without her love and support. Joan, on the other hand, has specifically said she does not like the spotlight, so all of this seems like a typical relationship between two slightly quirky and intelligent people from a previous generation who love one another in spite of their insecurities.

Where The Wife expands is by looking into the past, when Joan and Joseph first started their relationship—he was her writing teacher, praising her work with little moments of vague negative criticisms to assert his dominance. It is in this period that she both learned of her talent and grew cynical about the likelihood of succeeding as a woman in a male-dominated world of publishing. Without giving anything away, decisions made at that time were norms of the 1950s, but doing so locked in layers of resentment that went unaddressed for decades, until the Nobel Prize and the trip to Stockholm shined a light on problems and emotions that always existed.

190sFeaturing excellent performances and terrific direction by Björn Runge, The Wife tells an engaging story about a relationship, but makes a broader statement about power imbalance at home, in the workplace, and in society. To the world, Joan is “the wife,” and though many claim to love and recognize her, she is trapped in a gilded cage of being only the wife of a supposed genius, squashing her talent and individual voice, yet she actively resists being painted as a victim no matter how many affairs or indignities she endures. There is what could be called a twist that sheds more light on her character, but it is neither artificial nor cheap, growing naturally out of the emotions simmering beneath the surface. The Wife is an intelligent, tense, terrific movie whose narrow narrative scope allows it to deeply explore issues critical to society through excellently crafted characters, without cheapening the story or its message.


The Wife

R, 100 minutes; Regal Stonefield 14 and IMAX

Playing this week:

Alamo Drafthouse Cinema 377 Merchant Walk Sq., 326-5056

A Simple Favor, Crazy Rich Asians, Mandy, The Nun, Peppermint, The Predator, White Boy Rick

Regal Stonefield 14 and IMAX The Shops at Stonefield, 244-3213

A Simple Favor, Alpha, Assassination Nation, Christopher Robin, Crazy Rich Asians, Fahrenheit 11/9, God Bless the Broken Road, The House With A Clock In Its Walls, Life Itself, Pope Francis—A Man of His Word, The Meg , Mission Impossible: Fallout, The Nun, Peppermint, The Predator, Searching, White Boy Rick, The Wife

Violet Crown Cinema 200 W. Main St., Downtown Mall, 529-3000

A Simple Favor, BlacKkKlansman, Christopher Robin, Crazy Rich Asians, Fahrenheit 11/9, Juliet, Naked, The Nun, Peppermint, The Predator, Searching, White Boy Rick, Whitney

 

Categories
Arts

ARTS Pick: Father John Misty

Any artist that opts to start off a track with the words, “Pour me another drink and punch me in the face” certainly has no shortage of spunk. Josh Tillman, who famously deemed himself Father John Misty, has taken to the road in celebration of his recent LP, God’s Favorite Customer. Misty delivers hypnotizing indie rock to eager fans—so eager, in fact, that they had a hand in a venue swap after swiftly buying out his original
slot at the Jefferson Theater. Come expecting jarring lyrics, FJM’s characteristic slicked-back locks, and myriad mic stand dips and tricks.

Tuesday, September 25. $35, 7:30pm. Sprint Pavilion, 700 E Main St., Downtown Mall. 245-4910.

Categories
Arts

Letting it flow: Kyle Dargan fights futility with poetry

As a child, Kyle Dargan began writing rhymes largely as a matter of convenience.

“If you wanted to make music, especially back in the ’90s, you needed somebody with a studio and recording equipment,” he says. “But you could write [hip-hop lyrics] at home, on the bus, in a notebook, and share with people and workshop and take their feedback and try to get better at it.”

Now a highly awarded poet and writing teacher at American University, Dargan became interested in poetry just shy of high school. “One of the things I really push back against as a teacher at the college level is that by the time I get my students, most of them have probably experienced some poetry trauma,” he says. Whereas children are born with a basic element of creative freedom, he says he must “deprogram [his students] from the feeling that unless you are able to interpret a poem a certain way, you’re wrong or you’re wasting your time in reading it.”

Growing up in Newark, New Jersey, Dargan went to Saint Benedict’s Prep and then to the University of Virginia, where he was a graduate of the first-ever area program in poetry writing. He went on to Indiana University, where he received his MFA in creative writing, and then moved to Washington, D.C., to study art management and teach at American.

“I couldn’t have ever imagined it, but being here during the Obama administration I got to do some great work with the President’s Committee on the Arts and Humanities and [produce poetry programming] at the White House,” he says. “As much as D.C. is maligned, I really try to appreciate all the unusually marvelous things that can only happen here.”

Given Dargan’s penchant for exploring themes like contemporary masculinity and “America as a concept—not so much a place but an idea,” it’s easy to understand the relevance of his poems.


“As much as D.C. is maligned, I really try to appreciate all the unusually marvelous things that can only happen here.”


In his forthcoming collection, Anagnorisis, he explores the moment he understood his American fate in the same way a Greek tragic hero experiences crystalline self-awareness. “With all of the police shootings of citizens…I felt like, you know, ‘I have a feeling the country’s kinda going in a direction that I’m not quite sure of yet,’” he says. “And then the 2016 election happened. I was like, ‘Ah, okay, this is it. And I know what side of it I am on.’”

Still, he says, “when I think about America now, I’m one of the few who still believes America is heading in a post-racial direction. But I say that with a caveat that the hours, the years right before the change becomes real are often the most violent.”

After traveling to China twice in the last 10 years and examining why it continues to buy American debt, Dargan says he’s realized America’s biggest export is promise.

“I don’t want to look at it as hope,” he adds, “because I don’t think those ideologies are going to roll away easily. But I do think that America, more than anything, is a place of reckoning. It’s a difficult reckoning, and we are gradually becoming mature enough to handle that reckoning, but we’re not there yet.”

By helping heal the trauma inflicted on students’ creative self-expression, Dargan hopes to support that maturation process. “A big part of what makes creative communication work is being able to be present as yourself on the page, right? If you’re not open and vulnerable and honestly dealing with who you are and how you write, you’re limiting the potential of whatever communication you’re making with someone else,” he says. “I believe that the ability to communicate, first and foremost with yourself and then transferring that to others, definitely saves us all.”

Categories
Arts

ARTS Pick: Party Like a Rock Star

Step into the fantasy world of a rock star’s life for one evening while helping local youth pursue their musical dreams. The Music Resource Center’s annual Party Like a Rock Star is Prince-themed this year in tribute to the inimitable musician. Donate at musicresourcecenter.org to cast a vote for your favorite Prince cover by a local musician and celebrate his purple reign by arriving at the event in costume.

Friday, October 21. $150, 8pm. Music Resource Center, 105 Ridge St. 979-5478.

Categories
Arts

The Accountant banks on simpler times

Who knew a straightforward, predictable, high-concept action mystery starring Batman on his off-season would be just the palate cleanser we needed this year? Gavin O’Connor’s The Accountant harkens back to a simpler time in the film industry, before every member of every superhero team needed his own spin-off series, when the central idea behind an action movie wasn’t much more than “This guy is really good at fighting and shooting, except he’s [fill in the blank],” in this case he’s a high-functioning autistic.

The Accountant
R, 128 minutes
Violet Crown Cinema and Regal Stonefield 14 and IMAX

That may seem like a recipe for disaster, and the question of whether our hero’s condition is accurately represented is one better left to professionals than to film critics, but the premise is handled with extremely good taste and pays off in unexpected ways as the story progresses. The eponymous accountant is Christian Wolff (Ben Affleck), a seemingly meek CPA with a mysterious past and a highly illegal side business helping criminals, gangs and militias clean up their money trail. Treasury agent Ray King (J.K. Simmons), nearing retirement, enlists—read: blackmails—skillful analyst Marybeth Medina (Cynthia Addai-Robinson) to track down this unnaturally talented money launderer, who is strangely difficult to identify and impossibly capable in combat.

Meanwhile, Wolff, in need of a lower profile and legally sound job, begins reviewing a robotics company founded by Lamar Black (John Lithgow) after a suspicious shortfall in the books is discovered by Dana Cummings (Anna Kendrick). This puts Christian in conflict with Brax (Jon Bernthal), a ruthless security contractor. Brax will stop at nothing to protect his clients and their investments, while Christian cannot quit a task until it’s complete. They are polar opposites—and therefore perfect enemies.

This sounds preposterous, and it is, but O’Connor makes the right call in committing to the premise fully, embracing the silliness rather than winking at the audience in a bid for so-bad-it’s-good points. Christian is a one-man army in a way that is occasionally as satisfying as John Wick, even if the two films are not even close to comparable in terms of quality and craftsmanship. The plot twists are many and very obviously broadcasted, but after a certain point this also becomes engaging as we wait for the characters to figure out the big secret. Every 20 minutes or so, however, O’Connor and screenwriter Bill Dubuque apparently realize they neglected to advance the plot, leading to very long stretches of interminable exposition until the next set piece. It can be frustrating, but if you buckle down and let the people talk (and can tolerate the 128-minute runtime) you’ll probably end up forgiving that flaw.

O’Connor, Dubuque and Affleck have clearly done their homework on certain aspects of different types of autism and other characters elsewhere on the spectrum manifest in different ways, and are portrayed as individuals, never objects of pity. The film’s sense of humor is always in good fun and never targets anyone unfairly, neurotypical characters included.

The Accountant may not compare to the best older-guy-kicking-ass movies out there, but with Affleck still in his 40s and the star of legitimate action blockbusters, it may be a premature comparison. That said, the appeals are similar, and while The Accountant is too long, silly and very predictable, if you need something to tide you over until John Wick 2 later this year, you could do a lot worse.


Playing this week

Regal Stonefield 14 and IMAX
The Shops at Stonefield, 244-3213

The Birth of a Nation, Deepwater Horizon, The Girl on the Train, Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets: IMAX, Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire: IMAX, Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban: IMAX, Harry Potter and the Sorcerer’s Stone: IMAX, Kevin Hart: What Now?, Max Steel, The Magnificent Seven, Masterminds, Middle School: The Worst Years of My Life, Miss Peregrine’s Home for Peculiar Children, Queen of Katwe, Storks, Sully

Violet Crown Cinema
200 W. Main St., Downtown Mall, 529-3000

The Beatles: Eight Days a Week-—The Touring Years, The Birth of a Nation, Deepwater Horizon, The Girl on the Train, Hell or High Water, Kevin Hart: What Now?, The Magnificent Seven, Miss Peregrine’s Home for Peculiar Children, Storks, Sully

Categories
Arts

Artist Damien Shen finds motivation in his past

Like many creatives, Damien Shen spent most of his adult life focused on building a career instead of a formal art practice.

But in 2013, the South Australia native and current Kluge-Ruhe artist-in-residence realized he had a calling. He just needed to work out what it was.

“I did this journey down the east coast of Australia and went to pretty much every gallery in our contemporary space I could find in a two-week period,” Shen says. “I just needed to try and work out what it all meant to be an artist.”

A descendant of Ngarrindjeri and Chinese bloodlines, Shen was inspired by fellow Australian aboriginal artists Tony Albert and Vernon Ah Kee.

“When I saw [Ah Kee’s charcoal portraits], I was quite overwhelmed,” says Shen. “I just sat there in front of it and thought, ‘Man, this is amazing.’ I wondered if I could still draw, and if maybe I could draw like that. And I thought, ‘Maybe one day I can have my own exhibition.’”

Shen enrolled in a three-day charcoal portraiture workshop. On the third day, he received word that his aboriginal grandmother, Charlotte, passed away.

“That really was the catalyst to begin drawing a lot,” he says.

Shen focused intensely on developing his technique. Through drawings, paintings and lithographs, he committed to mastering a level of technical excellence that would allow him to break the rules. His first project focused on family genealogy, sourcing his maternal uncle’s and aunts’ memories as the last generation to experience growing up on Raukkan, a Ngarrindjeri mission south of Adelaide. Much like the American Indians, Australian aboriginal men and women suffered intergenerational trauma and cultural disenfranchisement under the colonial regime, including genocide, segregation, dispossession, marginalization and assimilation.

During his research, Shen discovered that the remains of more than 500 Ngarrindjeri people had been stolen by William Ramsay Smith, an Australian coroner, and sent to a scientist in Scotland for comparative anatomy.

“[Smith] used to go out and actually look for remains down near the Coorong,” says Shen. “There’s a lot of sand dunes and stuff out there, so the wind would expose parts of the grounds and sometimes expose remains. Other times he would dig them up. When he died in 1937, he had 182 skulls in his house. That was his own personal collection.”

Shen’s current exhibition at Kluge-Ruhe includes portraits of the perpetrators of these crimes, as well as a portrait of Boorborrowie, a Ngarrindjeri man whose remains were later repatriated to Australia.

“I remember as a younger lad there was this event at Camp Coorong,” Shen says. “There was a ceremony and all these white crates. …Huge amounts of remains were being released by the museum in Edinburgh and brought back to South Australia.”

In addition to showcasing precise and fluid portraiture styles, Shen’s exhibit “On the Fabric of the Ngarrindjeri Body” references 19th century scientific anatomical renderings of the human form. The show’s titular work echoes an illustration from Andreas Vesalius’ medical book, De humani corporis fabrica (On the Fabric of the Human Body). The text is an apt reference point for Shen’s themes, as its clinical accuracy objectifies the physical body much like colonials, coroners and scientists dehumanized Australian aboriginal men, women and their remains.

Shen’s etching reclaims this spirit by inserting Vesalius’ version of the male form into a natural landscape and superimposing iconic Ngarrindjeri body designs, ritualistic paraphernalia and the face, hair and beard of Major Sumner (a Ngarrindjeri elder and Shen’s Uncle Moogy) in ceremonial dress.

In his series, “On the Fabric of the Ngarrindjeri Body—Volume II,” inspired by Irving Penn’s ethnographic photography, Shen sought to create a studio scene that combined hero shots with behind-the-scenes candids of himself and his uncle painting in the traditional Ngarrindjeri way. “These are images that could have been shot back in the 1800s but they were done a couple of years ago,” says Shen.

He wanted, he says, to highlight the tension between gazing in and observing a culture, “this part of Australian culture that is lost and I believe struggling to stay alive,” and the contemporary reality of cultural preservation and revivification.

“It’s very difficult to understand unless you’re from those areas that have been able to hold a cultural practice through time,” he says. “All we really have are old photos and illustrations by guys who were traveling through in the 1800s.”

Shen says the experience of actually painting his skin for the first time was surreal—and very intimate.

“It’s not an initiation,” he says. “I’m not going to pretend it’s anything like that. For me, it meant a lot to be able to do it with Uncle Moogy.”

Shen sounds surprised that The National Gallery of Australia asked to acquire these intimate moments. But these photos, in addition to his first volume of work, earned him an avalanche of critical acclaim. In just two and a half years, the artist has been featured in 30 exhibitions around Australia, and he’s won multiple accolades, including the 2014 South Australian NAIDOC Artist of the Year Award, the 2015 Prospect Portrait Prize and the 64th Blake Prize for Emerging Artists in 2016.

Shen’s current residency at the Kluge-Ruhe is also his first.

“So many times in the last three years I’ve been pinching myself,” says Shen. “You win an award or you get accepted into a residency or this and that. Like, ‘Wow, this is the artist’s life.’ It doesn’t always go your way, but today I have this incredible view [of Charlottesville]. I have an atrium I can call my studio for the month. I’m incredibly blessed.”

Contact Elizabeth Derby at arts@c-ville.com.

Categories
Arts

Songwriter Matt Curreri rearranges and rocks out

Every Wednesday night after dinner, Matt Curreri, Jesse Fiske, Gerald Soriano and Brian Wilson gather in a tiny, warmly lit music studio in Fiske’s Belmont backyard.

They unpack their guitars, bass and drums, and set up mics and amps. Fiske’s Single Barrel Studio is a cozy fit for the four-piece, but they tune up. They plug in. They rock out.

For the members of Matt Curreri & The Exfriends, these precious few hours are time for self-expression, an opportunity to translate the pressures of daily life into notes, rhythms and lyrics. It’s a time to decompress—together.

Curreri, the band’s songwriter, has been writing and recording music since he was a teenager; he says it quickly became his favorite thing to do whenever he found a few solitary moments. He’s released albums every few years and played monthly shows for nearly two decades, but says, “It’s never about success. I just love writing songs. There’s always some music kicking around in my head, waiting to come out.”

When Curreri moved to Charlottesville from San Diego about three years ago, he’d just finished putting that music into a poppy horns record, Get Along, with his San Diego Exfriends. He put together a small band—sax, trumpet, Wilson on drums, former Hackensaw Boy Fiske on bass—but says it was quickly “apparent that we should not play that album with horns. We should just be a new band.”

So they ditched the horns and went fully into rock ’n’ roll.

Curreri, Fiske and Wilson played as a three-piece for a bit before Soriano joined after a birthday party conversation with Fiske, when he confessed his aspirations to be a lead guitarist (he’d played bass in a slew of local bands such as Gallatin Canyon, Ragged Mountain String Band and Faster Than Walking). “Can you rip it?” Fiske asked Soriano. “I know just the band.”

With his new Exfriends formed, Curreri, whose previous records consisted of plenty of well-written, clever pop-rock tunes in a storytelling vein (Fiske likens some of the tracks off Exercise Music for the Lonely and Joy of Life to something one might find on a Wes Anderson film soundtrack), found himself drawn more toward straightforward rock ’n’ roll, partly because he and his bandmates played great rock music together, and partly because he doesn’t feel like being clever in a cute, poppy way anymore.

Perhaps it’s because he’s getting older—he’s married, he has a kid. But, more likely, he says it’s because he can come to Single Barrel Studio every Wednesday and play loudly. The band is “very much a rock interpretation of Matt’s not-so-rock-y” songs, says Wilson, who also plays with The Can-Do Attitude. So, for the past year or so, they’ve taken songs from Get Along and rearranged them for a four-piece rock outfit.

Rock or not, all of Curreri’s songs are about life. They examine the ties that bind us, the forces that loosen those ties and the shears that sometimes sever those ties all together. The Get Along songs cover everything from band synergy and breakups (“Get Along”) to brothers going through life together (“At the Seashore”). Curreri sings about a respectable woman who sings at night, knowing that her daytime society friends would be appalled to know what she does when the sun goes down (“Mary’s Nightlife”); he also sings about love (“All the Time”), losing everything (“Almost Perfect”) and about life’s massive losses evening out over time (“The Old Meandering Song”).

“It’s a sincere expression. I’m not trying to copy a style or pretend to be a rock star,” he says. “These are just my songs.”

Curreri mostly writes from his own perspective, but always hopes that his bandmates and listeners can connect to the lyrics and music. There has to be a purpose for making such personal songs, Curreri says, “and that people connect to it allows me to spend the time doing it. It gives me a reason outside of selfish reasons.”

It also gives the music another purpose, though Fiske is quick to note that what happens in that tiny studio every Wednesday night is purpose enough. “We’re a good band,” he says. “We communicate well with each other when we play music; whether that’s perceived as being a good band on the outside isn’t as important as being in this room and feeling like we’re a good band.”

Curreri’s been writing new songs, too, as he locates new corners of life. “Gonna Freak Out” “started as chords that I was playing around my baby and came together as a song one night when everything seemed too difficult,” Curreri says. It’s a song about looking at the big decisions you’ve made for your life—marriage, parenthood—and freaking out about the fact that you’ve made them, even if they’re good decisions that make you happy. It’s a relatable song that parallels another new track, “Gonna Be a King”—we’ve all freaked out one moment only to feel like a king (or queen) the next, and vice versa. The ebb and flow of life.

Both of those tracks are played live and will likely appear on the next Matt Curreri & The Exfriends album, recorded at Single Barrel Studio and on track for release this winter. The album features cameos from some local music mainstays—Paul Curreri (Matt’s brother), Devon Sproule, Sally Rose Monnes and others—emphasizing the band’s deep ties to the local music community, both on stage and in the studio.

“Playing music can be tricky,” emotionally and technically, Curreri says. But playing “for friends, playing with other bands and artists who are your friends…it’s the ideal situation. Those are the best nights of music.”

Contact Erin O’Hare at arts@c-ville.com.

Categories
Arts

Neal Guma gallery assembles a striking group show

With just five photographs on view, Neal Guma has assembled a richly satisfying show featuring some of the most interesting photographers working today at his new, eponymously named gallery on Third Street. While different in terms of style, approach and subject matter, the work is linked by a sense of mystery, foreboding and even danger.

Julie Blackmon’s “Rope Swing” in the window has been attracting a lot of attention, according to Guma. The image presents a backyard scene of children playing. Like a spy from the land of grown-ups, Blackmon captured a moment when the adults are absent and children are running the show. At the center of the image, a girl of about 8 is caught by Blackmon as she shimmies impossibly high up a rope. Danger is conveyed not only by how high off the ground she is, but also with the tangled hair and skimpy attire of her companions.

“Blackmon’s photographs really take you back to a time when kids were freer, less organized,” says Guma. “A big influence on her is the Dutch 17th century painter Jan Steen who painted many family scenes with kids and animals everywhere. There’s a sense of absolute chaos and that’s what Blackmon loves and yet, at the same time, her work’s so well composed. It’s a brilliant edge.”

Holly Andres is known for using multiple images to tell a story. “River Road: Mile Marker 39” from “The Fallen Fawn” series is pleasing from both a formal and descriptive standpoint. The autumnal palette, shape of the car windows and roof line, and the way the girls are dressed and styled, all work together to impart a nostalgic ’60s quality to the work. Reflections and shadows play on the windows, adding pattern and texture that both draws attention to and shields the girls. The image is loaded with suspense.

Andres melds two entirely different trajectories in “River Road.” It’s almost like there are two photographs contained within it: The winsome, romantic girls and the forceful abstract diagonals that frame them make for a highly unusual and compelling image.

Though not a photographer, Julie Cockburn works with discarded photographs. She painstakingly embroiders these with precisely stitched shapes that she uses to draw attention to the psychological undertones lurking beneath the surface of the vintage formal studio shots she favors.

“Carita” is embellished with pastel-colored circles that trail across the image like an effervescence of bubbles that almost completely obscures Carita’s face. The exception is her eye, which stares out with such haunting soulfulness, it stops you in your tracks.

The clues we have to “Carita” are few, but the softly coiffed curls, pearls at her throat and the lustrous sheen of the soft bow on her dress convey a certain refinement. And then there is the kicker, the inscription: “To my darling a teacher, Aurora…” which throws a big pot of doubt and suspicion onto the image. While this could be entirely innocent, Cockburn’s manipulation of the piece invites a different, much darker interpretation, causing you to wonder about the nature of the relationship of teacher and student.

“What makes his work is the play between the flatness and the detail,” says Guma about German photographer Markus Brunetti’s “Wells Cathedral Church of Saint Andrews.” The photograph is one from a series of European sacred structures Brunetti and his partner, Betty Schoener, photographed over the course of 10 years. Brunetti shot each building in multiple sections, which Schoener then painstakingly assembled to form a composite. The result has more clarity than a traditional camera could capture, or the naked eye could see.

With an equal field of focus, everything is incredibly distinct: the saints’ faces, their hair, the live pigeons roosting in the edifice’s crannies, the lichen, weathered wooden doors and strip of brilliant green at the base, and they all work to animate and revitalize an iconic image to which we have almost become blind.

Lois Conner is known for her photographs of China, where she has spent many years taking pictures. Her long, narrow proportions, specific to the camera she uses, recall a Chinese screen. “Atchafalaya Swamp, Louisiana,” dating to 1988, is the only black-and-white image. A masterful technician, Conner’s tonalities are ravishing.

At times you wonder whether you’re even looking at a photograph; it’s more like graphite on paper. The pops of white that are the fruit at the center of the bush and the abandoned rowboat that seems to float above the ground in otherworldly fashion are extraordinary. With consummate craftsmanship and enormous sensitivity, Conner has created an image that’s mysterious, evocative and timeless.

“Putting together a group show like this is kind of like making a playlist,” says Guma. “You like every song, but you want the whole thing to work together. And it sort of takes on this theme. There are connections, and some of them you don’t foresee, but when they happen it’s magic.”