Connect with us

Entertainment

Austrian football stadium hosts forest as dystopian vision comes to life

Published

on


Image copyright
EPA

Image caption

The free exhibition opened its doors to visitors on Sunday

An Austrian football stadium has been transformed into a native central European forest.

Designed by Klaus Littmann, the installation is a statement against climate change and deforestation.

Hosting almost 300 trees, the stadium hopes to attract wildlife during the seven weeks the installation is open.

It was inspired by a dystopian image of a world where nature could only be seen in designated spaces, like animals in zoos.

Image copyright
Max Peintner

Image caption

The installation is based on a drawing by Max Peintner

Littman stumbled on the drawing in 1970. It was called The Unending Attraction of Nature by Max Peintner.

“I thought that the idea behind the work was simply fascinating,” Littman told the BBC. He said he wanted to purchase the drawing but it had already been sold to an American art collection.

“That’s when I decided I wanted to realise the drawing, have it in front of me and experience it in real life,” he said.

Image copyright
Reuters

Image caption

Artist Klaus Littmann presents his work, which includes trees weighing up to six tonnes (6.6 US tons)

Three decades later, the installation, which has been named For Forest – The Unending Attraction of Nature- has opened its doors.

Both artists worked around a vision of natural spaces only existing as objects in an exhibition.

Planted inside Wörthersee Football Stadium in Klagenfurt, which can hold up to 30,000 spectators, the forest is expected to change colour as autumn approaches.

Image copyright
Unimo

Image caption

The exhibition will be open into the evening, when it will be lit up by floodlights

The 299 trees were all brought in from nurseries and will live on after the project in a planting site near to the stadium, causing as little interference to nature as possible.

“I have never worked with living beings before and I am absolutely aware that this cannot be compared to working with a sculpture, a photo or a painting,” said Littman. “The work has to be adapted to the species and has to be done with a lot of attention and respect. “

Image copyright
Unimo

Image caption

By day, the forest will be bathed in golden autumn sunlight

He worked alongside Enzo Enea, a landscape architect, who had lots of experience working with trees in different environments, to ensure they were properly cared for.

“Perception is really a central theme in my projects,” he said. “In For Forest, I do so by taking something which we know in our everyday life and putting it in a new context. This forces people to question things that surround them and that they take for granted, in this case trees.”

Image copyright
Gerhard Maurer

Image caption

By night, the floodlights will give the forest an eerie moonshine quality

You might also like:



Source link

Entertainment

Liam Gallagher on how his feud with Noel upsets their mum

Published

on

By


Former Oasis frontman Liam Gallagher has told BBC Radio 5 Live how he thinks his feud with brother Noel upsets their mum.

Speaking to Nihal Arthanayake, he said: “If, God forbid, something happens to my mam, and we haven’t made up by then, then there will be war.”

Click here to listen to the full interview on BBC Sounds.



Source link

Continue Reading

Entertainment

Michael Jackson estate calls Leaving Neverland’s Emmy Award a ‘farce’

Published

on

By


Michael Jackson and Wade RobsonImage copyright
Channel 4

Image caption

In Leaving Neverland, Wade Robson (pictured) says he was abused by Jackson in the 1990s

Michael Jackson’s estate has called the decision to give Leaving Neverland the Emmy Award for best documentary a “complete farce”.

Leaving Neverland, which first aired in March, focuses on two men who claim the pop superstar abused them as children.

“For a film that is a complete fiction to be honoured in a non-fiction Emmy category is a complete farce,” the estate said in a statement.

It said there was “not one shred of proof” to support the show’s claims.

Leaving Neverland earned a total of five nominations ahead of the weekend’s Creative Arts Emmys, and it went on to win outstanding documentary or non-fiction special.

Image copyright
Getty Images

Image caption

Director Dan Reed said his film had “launched many important conversations”

The controversial film, directed by Dan Reed, includes interviews with Wade Robson and James Safechuck, who were aged seven and 10 when the singer befriended them and their families.

When the Emmy nominations were first announced, Reed said the recognition meant a great deal to all involved.

“Since Leaving Neverland aired in March, it has launched many important conversations about child sexual abuse and the grooming that accompanies it,” he said. “This was why James Safechuck and Wade Robson and their families spoke out, and why we made the documentary.

“We’re delighted that the Academy has honoured that purpose.”

But after the win, the Jackson estate said in a statement to The Hollywood Reporter: “Not one shred of proof supports this completely one-sided, so-called documentary which was made in secrecy and for which not one person outside of the two subjects and their families were interviewed.”

After Leaving Neverland’s premiere in January at the Sundance Film Festival, Jackson’s estate called the project “a tabloid character assassination” and insisted it “isn’t a documentary”.


Follow us on Facebook, on Twitter @BBCNewsEnts, or at bbcnewsents. If you have a story suggestion email





Source link

Continue Reading

Entertainment

Muna: Saving the world, one breath at a time

Published

on

By


MunaImage copyright
Isaac Schneider

Image caption

Muna (L-R): Naomi McPherson, Katie Gavin and Josette Maskin

“If you don’t mind, I’m just gonna take a breath.”

Muna’s lead singer, Katie Gavin, is speaking to a packed audience at London’s Village Underground to request a time out.

It’s not because she’s got jet-lag (although she has); or because she’s exhausted from leaping around the stage (she is). Instead, she’s recognised the looming symptoms of an anxiety attack.

Her bandmates Naomi McPherson and Josette Maskin rally around and, for the next 60 seconds, they slowly inhale and exhale under the spotlights. The audience joins in, too, transforming the gig into a sort of mass yoga session.

“It felt really good,” Gavin tells the BBC a day later. “I’m glad we did it – breathing is something that’s helped me with my anxiety around singing.”

Her vocal insecurities began when Muna toured their first album, About U, two years ago. Gavin developed “obsessive thinking,” fixating on unconscious mechanisms like breathing and swallowing as panic took hold.

Relaxation techniques helped her tackle the problem – hence the pause in Monday night’s show.

“It felt like I was having an out-of-body experience, except the issue is I don’t want to be out of my body, I want to be there, and breathing is something that helps me re-centre,” she explains.

McPherson, the band’s producer and musical polymath, suggests breathing exercises should henceforth become compulsory at all their gigs.

“I think it’s hard for everyone to stay in the moment at a rock show, especially now with social media and stuff, because you’re filming a lot of it. Taking a breath is like taking a moment to be present,” she says.

“I mean, music is cool, but have you tried breathing?”

Image copyright
Getty Images

Image caption

“We’ve had moments of silence at shows before,” says Gavin

The band dissolve into laughter. They laugh a lot, especially when the conversation threatens to get too earnest. But they’re also in stitches as they discuss cult comedy Derry Girls (McPherson does a terrible impersonation of the accent), and Maskin’s morbid fear of zombies.

“I absolutely hate them,” she protests. “I think about when I used to play tag or hide and seek: When the other kids came to get me, I would freeze. So if the zombies came to get me, I’d be rooted to the ground.”

“So you’re actually thinking about your own reflexes,” McPherson teases, “and that’s what scares you the most!”

‘Solidarity in difference’

That self-deprecating humour is present in the title of their second album, Muna Saves The World – simultaneously embracing their role as a queer-identifying, politically-progressive band, while recognising the inherent absurdity of that.

Gavin’s lyrics don’t serve up recipes for world peace, either. Instead she navigates weighty topics like addiction, alienation, romantic desolation and cycles of abusive behaviour.

“It’s called Muna Saves The World but it’s really about saving yourself,” she explains.

Released last week, the album has received rave reviews across the board.

“Muna’s music wonders what pop might sound like if it was made by punks, and what relatability could feel like to people who have always felt different,” wrote NPR’s Catherine Whelan. “It soars and sinks, questions and answers. Like the band who makes it, the music itself seems to find solidarity in difference.”

But the album almost never happened.

The band were still students at the University of Southern California in 2014 when they made their debut album – 12 tracks of empathetic, sinuous synth-pop that eventually caught the ear of floral trouser enthusiast Harry Styles.

The former One Direction star invited Muna to tour Europe with him, amplifying and echoing their messages of tolerance and queer acceptance at every show.

“He’s using us as a way of saying something without actually saying it,” McPherson told the BBC at the time, “which is actually very smart”.

When the tour ended in Milan, Styles gave them Gucci shoes, and they hung around in Italy to take cookery classes before heading back to LA to start their second record. And that’s when things started to go wrong.

‘Second adolescence’

Gavin fell into a long post-tour depression, while her bandmates were forced to move back into Maskin’s parents’ house. The songs weren’t coming together, either. A planned concept album about Joseph Campbell’s concept of The Hero’s Journey, was eventually abandoned.

“It was very emotionally challenging,” remembers McPherson. “I cried a lot.”

“It was hard, really frickin’ hard,” Maskin agrees. “There were points when we thought, ‘Can we do this at all?'”

Eventually, the trio realised they’d rushed into the studio too soon. The first album had changed their lives and they’d formed an inseparable bond but, emotionally, they were the same teenage students who’d recorded About U in McPherson’s bedroom. It was time to grow up.

“It was like a second adolescence kicking in,” says McPherson. “In your mid-20s you have to go through the icky growing pains all over again.”

“I think we all had to separate from each other, so we could better understand ourselves and our position in the group,” adds Maskin.

Gavin sums it up best: “It’s like, if you’ve been in a long-term relationship, eventually you realise that other person can’t be the solution to all your problems.

“You’re like, ‘I’m in love but I still hate myself – what’s up there? I’ve got to go and fix that’. So you’ve still gotta stick up for you, and then show up in the studio with love to give.”

Six months in, a break-through. Driving through California, Gavin came up with a fantastically deadpan lyric: “So I heard the bad news/Nobody likes me and I’m gonna die alone in my bedroom/Looking at strangers on my telephone.”

It became the opening verse of Number One Fan, a throbbing, Robyn-esque dance track, that’s really about battling those destructive inner voices and loving yourself. It is the story of Muna’s crisis of confidence distilled into three minutes.

The rest of the album is just as raw. Stayaway finds Gavin locked in her bedroom, avoiding anything – friends, music, drink – that might tempt her back into the arms of an ex (“every moment is a fork in the road and every road leads back to you,” she sighs).

On Taken, she’s furious with herself for tempting someone into an affair, then furious with them for agreeing to it – because it reminds her of how her father cheated on her mum: “I hate you ’cause you’re just like him.”

The idea of the hero’s journey hasn’t been completely abandoned, either. Gavin opens the album singing: “I want to grow up/I want to put away my childish things/I think that I’m ready”. By the closing track, she’s reached some sort of resolution.

Over six minutes of percolating synths, she documents her life so far – flirting with casual sex and communism, smoking cigarettes, cutting off her hair, having suicidal thoughts, forming and nearly losing a band – before looking in the mirror and declaring: “It’s gonna be ok, baby”.

“You cut so close to the bone on this record,” marvels Maskin.

Gavin prefers to recall another piece of feedback, from McPherson’s mother: “This album has a lot less pretence”.

Image copyright
Sony Music

Image caption

The band are back in the UK for their first headline tour this winter

“I think about that a lot,” laughs the singer.

“I didn’t know there was stuff I was leaving off the page on the first record. Like, I don’t think I was necessarily aware of the mask I had on.

“I think that’s part of your journey as an artist, you’re just consistently sloughing off layers. And that was the hope, making this record, that I’d be able to be more honest than I was before.”

Will it save the world? Probably not. But Muna’s willingness to gouge out those deep, unwanted emotions and insist on self-preservation gives hope to anyone who, like them, has felt alone and aimless.

“I’m not the kind of person to believe in fate, but I do believe that some things are supposed to exist,” says Maskin, “and I’ve always felt that way about Muna specifically: Everything we’ve done, we were supposed to do.”

One breath at a time.

Follow us on Facebook, or on Twitter @BBCNewsEnts. If you have a story suggestion email





Source link

Continue Reading

Trending