LOCAL ARTIST Praba Pilar
TITLE Performance still from The Church of Nano Bio Info Cogno
THE STORY Reverend Praba Pilar of the Church of Nano Bio Info Cogno travels the world offering fantastical prophesies, outrageous sermons, incantations, neorituals, and a freshly minted techno-communion with emerging technology. Inverting phobic cries for a precautionary principle, the church proclaims a liturgy that drives these technologies: Nanotechnology, Biotechnology, Information Technology and Cognitive Neuroscience — forward into the neoteric millennium.
BIO A Bay Area/Colombian multidisciplinary artist, Praba Pilar explores the intersections of art, science, technology, and community through site installations, performances, street theater, and Web sites. Her wildly diverse work has been presented at museums, galleries, universities, and on streets around the world while winning multiple honors, including the Creative Capital award and the Creative Work Fund award.
SHOW “Bay Area Now 5,” opening July 19 (performance: Aug. 10, 2 p.m.). Yerba Buena Center for the Arts, 701 Mission, SF. $3–$6, (415) 978-2787, www.ybca.org. “We Remember the Sun,” through Sept. 13 (performance Sept. 11, 7 p.m.). Walter and McBean Galleries, San Francisco Art Institute, 800 Chestnut, SF. Free, (415) 749-4563, www.sfai.edu
WEB SITE www.prabapilar.com

By Ari Messer

Continuing to glide through artistic media, the Mission's new Iceberger gallery opened its fifth show, Richard T. Walker's video installation, "sometimes i like you more than othertimes," with a bang on June 14.

Walker, a British artist currently at the Headlands Center for the Arts and formerly at Berkeley's Kala Art Institute, is drawn to our often self-interested but always interesting interactions with the natural world. In this case, two videos playing simultaneously on color flat screens face each other in the small, pristine gallery space. They showcase Walker traipsing around the golden California hills with a microphone and small amplifier, delivering a speech in different locales while looking away from the viewer. At the same time, he literally plays with himself - on guitar, vocals and drums - also looking away from the viewer, as if talking to himself all the way around the world.

The most impressive thing at Iceberger's fifth opening wasn't the free beer - or free pizza - but the fact that most folks stayed to watch the entire video, often following along with the conversational, poetic text, which was available as program notes. Though spoken in address alternately to "all of the grass I have ever encountered" and to "a medium-sized mountain that will stay in my thoughts forever," the words sound like a Tarot reading from a good, if ruthlessly honest, friend, speaking directly to the viewer, such as this:

Just in time for the Fourth of Independenciality, another installment of our Semiconscious Consumerism blog by confused-with-a-capitalism-C Justin Juul. To read about his previous Nike vs. American Apparel torment, click here.

Sweatpants and Spirits. Fannypackin' across the Bay to Breakers finish line.

I started smoking when I was 14 years old and I’ve never been able to stop. The gum didn’t work. The patch didn’t work. The plastic cigarette holders that show tar buildup didn’t work. Shit, even adopting a rigorous jogging schedule (I’m up to 25 miles a week!) hasn’t done anything to curb my appetite for tobacco. I’m a smoker through and through. But at least I’m a healthy smoker, a highly functional smoker as we’re called. I run, I bike, I don’t eat meat, and I only smoke American Spirits, the healthiest cancer sticks on the market. Just kidding! I do smoke American Spirits, but I’m not dumb enough to buy into all that hippy marketing crap. I was at one time though.

By Kat Renz

Commie Girl on the OC: “It took Senor Schwarzenegger’s propositions, overwhelmingly denied through the rest of the state and overwhelmingly approved here, to make me see just how willingly I’d blinded myself. It’s not the conservatism that bothers me: it’s the nastiness. The nattering classes I’d thought were fringey were in fact the decision makers.”

First off, what a great word: nattering. Second, really? I couldn’t believe Commie Girl -- a.k.a. Rebecca Schoenkopf, a.k.a. “the black widow/queen bee of alternative journalism”(Orange Country Register) -- claimed forced ignorance for nine years. “ ‘That’s a bad rap’,”she told me, describing her excuses over the phone from the porch of her new-as-of-eight-days home in LA. “ ‘We have a lot of Republicans, but we’re electing Democrats in central county and blah blah blah.’ But no, I was wrong. I was totally, totally wrong.”

It seems perfect timing: Schoenkopf’s inaugural book -- Commie Girl in the OC (Verso Press, 2008), a compilation of scathing tales of Orange County high and low culture written under her leftie-chick moniker – was published just as she’s moved out of the OC. When I spoke with Commie Girl, she’d just finished whirlwindedly unpacking her boxes among the blue-violet jacaranda trees and 1930’s Spanish bungalows of Los Angeles’s Wilshire ‘hood. Her relocation effectively wrapped up a 12-year tenure at the Orange County Weekly and ushered in a new one as editor of Los Angeles City Beat.

But rewind a decade, when Commie Girl was born after taking over an OC Weekly nightlife column. Schoenkopf insisted her commentary be told through her unique filters: a 25-yr-old socialist, Catholic-Jewish, educated, single mother. About five years later, a little partied-out, her column evolved into pure politics.

LOCAL ARTIST Jen Merrill
TITLE The Proportion of Perception
THE STORY Inspired by scientific anatomical studies and human interactions, Merrill uses paper, paint, and her scalpel to create a three-dimensional world of eerie, sometimes humorous figures. They are at once clinical and viscerally powerful, betraying a battle between emotional restraint and an unruly body and conscience.
BIO Jen Merrill first took scalpel to paper at San Francisco Art Institute, where she received her MFA in 2006. She continues to hone her paper-cutting skills in Oakland, where she lives and works.
SHOW "Demikhov's Hands of Glory." July 12 through August 10 (reception Sat/12, 7–9 p.m.). Wed., 4–7 p.m.; Sat., 1–4 p.m. Iceberger Gallery, 3150 18th St., # 109 (18th and Treat), SF. (415) 225-8932, www.icebergergallery.com
WEB SITE www.jenmerrill.com

By Erik Morse

Winner of four 2007 César Awards, including Best Director and Best Actor, Tell No One -- aka Ne le dis à personne -- stars François Cluzet as Alexandre Beck, a successful Parisian doctor whose wife Margot (Marie-Josée Croze) is horribly murdered in the disturbing opening scene. Huit ans plus tard and we learn that Beck has been investigated, harrassed and scapegoated by the gendarmerie for the crime until several key pieces of evidence link Margot’s death to the work of a local serial killer. Taken to drink and solitudinous reveries of the past, Alexandre remains consumed by the events of that night. His obsession over Margot’s death is further inflamed when he receives an email containing a surveillance video of his wife still very much alive. Her instructions to him: “Tell no one.” Is it a hoax? His imagination? Or his wife returned from the dead?

In the 1950s, while Robert Frank was shooting photos for The Americans (Steidl, 180 pages, $39.95 ), a Southern sheriff told him he had “an hour to leave town.” If Frank took even one photo before splitting, then few people have ever made better use of 59 minutes and 59 seconds. The Americans turns 50 this year, and to celebrate its birthday — and perhaps to more perceptively rue the lack of change in this country — it has been republished in a new edition. This version corrects cropped images from past editions and presents deep tri-tone scans of vintage prints. Frank revised the book’s design. He selected its paper and its thread-stitching. He also conceived a new dust jacket that is closest in spirit to the book’s famed 1959 Grove Press and 1969 Aperture manifestations. As ever — maybe more than ever — The Americans is a scary beauty.

A Frank exhibition will be coming to SFMOMA. For now, here are some photos from Steidl's version of The Americans.

LOCAL ARTIST Noah Beil
TITLE San Francisco, California, 2008
THE STORY Beil’s series “Berms and Drumlins” explores man’s alteration of the landscape. From Ohlone shell mounds to gold mining sediment changing the bay shoreline, the Bay Area has long been subjected to deliberate and unintentional modifications by its inhabitants. This photograph was taken on Treasure Island, a man-made environment built entirely on landfill.
BIO In his landscape photographs, Beil compares natural and man-made features and searches for subtle embellishments to the earth’s surface that may not be readily apparent. He questions whether the reshaping of the earth should be considered destructive or decorative. He lives in Oakland.
SHOW “Eighteen Months: Taking the Pulse of Bay Area Photography.” Thurs/17 through September 19; Wed.-Sat., noon-5 p.m. San Francisco Arts Commission Gallery at City Hall, 1 Dr. Carlton B. Goodlet Place, SF. (415) 554-6080. Opening reception Thursday, July 17, 5:30 - 7:30pm. www.sfacgallery.org.
WEB www.noahbeil.com

Tis the season in San Francisco to get ready for Burning Man...and apparently for the release of films about the beloved and bemoaned event. Unlike another recent film that takes a critical look at the shortcomings of the event and its leadership, "Burning Man: Voyage to Utopia" is a celebratory tribute to the event and its central players, particularly founder Larry Harvey and temple builder David Best.
Filmmaker Laurent Le Gall, whose work premieres Friday at the Castro Theater (followed by afterparty at Cafe Flore), gives viewers an inside look at the 2003 event, starting pre-playa with the Temple crew and other attendees, through the arrival of the first dozen people on the playa, and continuing to the Temple burn that culminates the event and brings emotional closure to some of the film main characters, who came from France to attend the event.
Unlike in Oliver Bonin's "Dust & Illusions," where Harvey's disconcerting intransigence during his interviews reinforced accusations of a leadership vacuum, Le Gall shows Harvey at his creative best: engaged, inspiring, playful, cerebral and capable of dropping thought-provoking rhetorical bombs whose impact lingers long after the conversation ends. And Best comes through as the amazing artist and individual that he is.
This is a sweet film, maybe too sweet for many jaded old burners. But at a time when tens of thousands of Bay Area residents are busily preparing for their annual pilgrimage to the playa next month, it's a film sure to get many people's juices flowing.

Yes, the meat is in! But first, let us pause for some sad news. Estelle Getty, beloved Golden Girl, has passed on to that pastel lanai in the sky. (queer tear.)

Yet we move on ... to myPartner.com's crowning, last week, of America's Most Eligible Gay Bachelor. It was inevitable, I guess, and my inbox has been absolutely flooded of late with what the more or less cynical among us would regard as desperate capitalization on the whole legal same-sex marriage thing. But I must admit that myPartner is a tad genius. It set itself up before the California Supreme Court ruling as a matchmaking site for gays looking for "long-lasting relationships" -- kind of a Bizarro Manhunt, except that Manhunt's recently evolved into the gay MySpace (it's no longer crossing the line to know what your bff's dick looks like, zomg). It all seemed a bit confusing initially, especially since the promotional materials featured hot shirtless guys rolling around in bed and promised the possibility of "making connections" on business trips out of town. Slutty! Hedging their bets! But when that ruling came down, myPartner was perfectly positioned to pimp its romantic fantasy wares, and boy did it jump on that shit with this nationwide Most Eligible Gay Bachelor contest. Good for them.

But enough of that -- let's get to the goods. Here he is ladies and gentlemens, after 35,000 big gay online votes (that's 350,000 in heterosexual votes!) and a live runoff in San Diego during Pride Week, your new husband on the hoof (with foof) is .... Abel Lima, Mr. Rhode Island, who, oddly perhaps, resides right here in San Francisco!

Just look at that smile! He won $25,000.
Photo by Tara Luz Stevens.

Abel was the winner, out of five finalists, based on high ratings in the category of "mind," "body," and "soul." No word on how he did in the quantum mechanics portion of the contest. Coming in 2020: Most Eligible Gay Widower contest. It's the Golden Girls all over again!

To scope the other contestants -- rather handsome I must say, although I'm still into Polk Street hustlers badly in need of dentistry -- click here.

By Liam O’Donoghue

Hannah Dobbz's Shelter: A Squatumentary screens at 8 p.m. tonight at Artists' Television Access. A 45-minute exploration of squatting in the East Bay between 2004 and 2007, it shares a bill with Sabrina Alonso's self-explanatory 28-minute Mischief at 16th and Florida. I recently discussed the the pros and cons and politics of squatting with Dobbz, a freelance writer, editor and filmmaker.

SFBG What is your definition of squatting?
Hannah Dobbz Squatting could be using an abandoned building for a project or just for sleeping. It could be using an abandoned lot for gardening. Generally speaking, squatting is utilizing any unused space.

Hannah Dobbz

SFBG Is there anything that could be described as a “squatting scene” in the Bay Area?
HD Hard to say, since it’s so secretive and clandestine. If people are squatting, they usually don’t want everybody to know. They might need to sneak in at night and leave early in the morning. Not all squats can be used as community spaces.
The most well-known squat was probably Hellarity in Oakland, which is featured in the film. Another squatter featured in the film is Steve DiCaprio, who is working on Banana House and another house now, but that’s more of a private project -- not really part of a scene. There is definitely a community of people who would consider themselves squatters (former or current), but using the word ‘scene’ is not really applicable.

LOCAL ARTIST Michelle Blade
TITLE Untitled (Celebration)
THE STORY Using Dura-lar as her primary work surface, Blade paints in gestural and restrained styles, highlighting the extreme variances between her subjects. Bringing to mind Romantic sublimity, she accentuates nature’s vastness while expressing a harmonious human connection with it.
BIO Blade was born in Los Angeles and received an MFA from California College of the Arts. Her work has been exhibited at the San Francisco Arts Commission Gallery, Park Life, and Electric Works. She has also shown in Philadelphia and Copenhagen.
SHOW “The Elliptical Good-Kind,” through Aug. 8. Tues.–Sat., 11 a.m.–6 p.m. Jack Hanley Gallery, 395 Valencia, SF. (415) 522-1623, www.jackhanley.com
WEB SITE www.michelleblade.com

A selection of firearms at the Bullseye Indoor Shooting Range.

By Ian Ferguson

Fast approaching my 21st birthday, I realized that I had yet to shoot a real gun - unthinkable for an amendment-abiding American patriot. Each year’s 30,000 firearm-related deaths in the United States aside, when Bruce Willis knocks that gun from the hostage-taker’s hand and it skitters across the floor to stop at my feet, I had better be able to shoot it well. Imagine how much the other hostages would hate you if you messed that one up. So I drove out to Bullseye Indoor Shooting Range in San Rafael for an hour on the range.

I’ve a few excuses for having never shot a gun: my parents. As long as I lived under their roof, their patience topped out at Nerf. There's also my homecounty, Marin - for all its open spaces it doesn’t much tolerate guns, probably because if you fire into what appears to be open space, nine times out of 10 you’ll shoot out the window of some hedge fund manager’s house nestled invisibly among forest and hill. And there's my wallet: shooting isn’t cheap. This trip left a hole in it as large as any in the targets. Maybe that’s why the war costs so much…wait, nope, forgot about Blackwater.

Located in the warehouse district of San Rafael, Bullseye’s range fits into an unassuming, gray, single-story concrete shell of a building. (I have no idea how they keep the bullets from ricocheting around the inner walls, or piercing through them.) Inside, guns and targets line the walls as the mostly male, mostly crew-cut, mostly Army-fit staff signs shooters in from behind a glass display case. On a backpack leaning against the cash register I noticed two patches: an American flag and a military patch reading “Pork-Eating Crusaders."

By Dona Bridges

Everyday fashion via sfstyle.blogspot.com

Rejoice, voyeurs and procrastinators! I have found a new timesuck for you. My longtime perusal of Jezebel, Fashionista.com, and Facehunter led me to the truly amazing wastes of time that are personal and street fashion/style blogs. I gobble them up like candy, and during some of my over-consumption sessions I've managed to find a few that deal with Bay Area fashion specifically:

Rumi mugs on fashiontoast.com

Coquetteis a general fashion and style blog by SF writer Natalie Zee Drieu, with some coverage of local designers and stores.

SF Indie Fashion concentrates on local independent designers, stores and events.

SFBayStyle is a local fashion e-zine/blog with multiple contributors, many of whom are based in the Peninsula; it has a slightly more mainstream focus.

Fashiontoast is the personal style page of SF girl Rumi, with lots of pretty pictures of her in Kate Moss-ish getups, along with links and reviews relating to fashion.

SFStyle does street fashion ala Facehunter, except with tons of hilarious analysis and commentary.

Streetfancy is another street fashion blog, very heavy on nightlife coverage and very recognizable locals like Merkley. Sadly, it hasn't been updated in almost six months.

You didn’t expect to actually get any work done today, did you? You’re welcome.

By Marianne Moore

Rack of keffiyehs at Sharks on Telegraph

It’s a tired cliché by now: the hipster in skinny jeans and vintage T-shirt wearing a checkered, vaguely Arab-looking scarf folded into a triangle and wrapped around the neck, the point draped across the chest. The scarves, loosely based on Arab keffiyehs, are thought to give the wearer an air of edginess and rebellion totally unaffected by his or her ignorance of the political significance of the accessory, which differs from pattern to pattern. The black and white checkered keffiyeh is associated with Fatah, the largest faction of the Palestinian Liberation Organization; the slightly less common (among hipsters) red checked Kefi, was worn by Jordanian soldiers in the ’60s and now associated with Hamas, the ruling party in Palestine.

See you latte: Lemon and thyme and vanilla bean donuts with caffeine side. All photos by Kimberly Chun.

Remember turn-of-the-century Atkins? Remember pushing that bread basket away and diving head first into a slab of sirloin? Well, maybe those nutty notions are ready to go the way of cut-glass Jello salad and all-pineapple diets. Carbs are back - big time. Proof: the line forming every morning - much earlier than you'd expect - at Dynamo Donuts and Coffee at 2760 24th St., San Francisco.

It's those little niblets of fried batter that are making it happen. Personally, I've been waiting for the donut revival to hit any moment: few treats can beat a piping hot wad of cake dough covered in sugar or glaze or whatever, as the ideal desert. Add in the lovely, imaginative, only-in-Ess-Eff flavor combos at Dynamo Donut and you've got a hit. Enough of a hit that the line gently wound out of the almost brand new little stand on two separate weekday morns.

So far I've tried the lemon-thyme donut, the apricot honey-stuffed and iced number, the spiced chocolate, the salted caramel with fleur de sel, and the vanilla bean, all priced at $2 to $2.50. The lemon-thyme is bedecked with glaze, but the petite flecks of lemon and herb still peek out from their cakey home. The spiced chocolate was complex and amazing - my fave and worth the extra 50 cents. I even dug the apricot - I, who otherwise despise 'cots. All appear to be low on the grease factor, and amazingly not too sweet despite the thick swathe of frosting and the liberal amounts of sugar coating the top and bottom of each donut. More, please.

P.S. I can't wait to try the maple-glazed apple and bacon number, though I've no clue when that comes around next. Better to keep it a surprise. And word has it the current three flavors - which often sell out early - will soon expand to seven.

DYNAMO DONUTS AND COFFEE
Mon.-Sat., 7 a.m.-5 p.m.
2760 24th St. at Hampshire, SF
(415) 920-1978