August 25 Metro Arts1

An Atlanta artist's paintings play a major role in the new film "Landscape with Invisible Hand." The film combines teen love, aliens, and sci-fi, and the artist, William Downs, collaborated closely with the director to bring the unique look and feel of the movie to life. Downs, known for his otherworldly drawings, painted a large canvas and contributed to the film's artistic vision. The film explores the liberating power of art. Atlanta United has released a new jersey, the 404 kit, which pays homage to the 90s and Atlanta's transformation during that decade. The kit features graffiti-style lettering and illustrations inspired by the city's culture. It will be worn for a limited time and is available for purchase. Sebastian Missouri's exhibition "Fragments of the City" at Dale Veen Miami showcases Polaroid pictures capturing fleeting moments. The exhibition highlights the desire to preserve memories in our fast-paced world. This program is intended for a print-impaired audience and is brought to you by the Georgia Radio Reading Service, GARS. Welcome to Metro Arts for Friday, August 25th. I am Kristen Moody for the Georgia Radio Reading Service. Metro Arts is brought to you by the Fulton County Board of Commissioners. For our first article, we go to the Atlanta Magazine for An Atlanta Artist's Paintings Take a Starring Role in the New Film Landscape with Invisible Hand. William Downs worked closely with director Corey Finley to bring the unique look and feel of this Atlanta-filmed sci-fi movie to life by Felicia Feaster. Teen films from 1955's Rebel Without a Cause to the Twilight Saga have been treating teen angst for generations. But an especially creative rendering of that navel-gazing genre, Landscape with Invisible Hand, was filmed here in Atlanta and opens August 18th. A teen love story crossed with alien and Bayesian sci-fi, the film, based on a book by M.T. Anderson, imagines a future world where a teenage couple uses their love life as reality TV entertainment for the romance-starved glossy pink aliens who have taken over Earth. Occasionally poignant and often delightfully goofy, the film features Ahsante Black as Adam Campbell, a sensitive, introverted high school artist who documents the before and after alien times in melancholy paintings that hang on his family's living room wall. Those paintings, and a big chunk of the film's creative vision, come courtesy of Atlanta-based artist William Downs, who worked closely with director Corey Finley, Thoroughbred's Bad Education, to bring Landscape with Invisible Hand's unique look and feel to life. Downs is already a successful artist with drawings in the High Museum's collection and is exhibited at the Museum of Contemporary Art of Georgia and Sandler Hudson Gallery in Atlanta, Los Angeles, and New York. The Greenville, South Carolina native who attended the Atlanta College of Art is known for otherworldly drawings, often in black and white and populated by androgynous figures with elongated bodies and plaintive expressions. Downs says that when Finley saw his work, he knew that that was the feeling, the voice, and the vision that he was trying to depict. The Landscape with Invisible Hand team actually had a list of possible Atlanta artists they were considering for the film, but a meeting with Downs at the DeKalb Avenue Coffee Shop Victory CC convinced them he was the right man for the job. Landscape with Invisible Hand is not Downs' first Hollywood rodeo. More than a dozen of his artworks appeared in the Dynasty TV series, Roblox. But Landscape with Invisible Hand is an especially comprehensive inclusion of a visual artist's work in both a film's plot and behind-the-scenes production. Downs painted a 25 by 13 canvas that was blown up via some CGI movie magic into an enormous mural for the film. When Adam and his new girlfriend Chloe Marsh, Kylie Rogers, attach nodes to their heads that feed their feelings and love story directly to their alien audience, Downs drew his signature almond-shaped eyes on Adam's device. Downs is occasionally assisted by longtime friend and fellow ACA grad Jesse Krieger. He calls Krieger his stunt painter for filling in for him when he couldn't be in the studio. In addition to painterly contributions, Downs also helped Finley bring artistic veracity to his tale of Lung Among the Aliens. He tapped into his art school background and current role as a lecturer at Georgia State University to advise Finley on capturing the dynamics of Adam's high school art classroom. Asante Black came to my studio and I kind of worked with him, talked to him on set about being an artist, Downs says. I taught him mannerisms and how to roll the paint, how to look at things, and I taught him how to draw a face. Downs even tentered the swooping marks of pencil on paper for the film's soundtrack. When you hear the sound of the pencil, they miked the table and had me draw for about 20 minutes, he explains. There were a number of almost paranormal parallels, Downs says, between his teenage years and Adam's. Like Adam, Downs, too, had a crush on a girl in high school whose portrait he painted. He was also lucky enough to grow up with parents who supported his art, much like Adam's single mom, Beth Campbell, played with characteristic impish glee by Tiffany Haddish, who, fun fact, is an artist, too. The landscape with invisible hands message about the liberating, expressive potential of art is a pretty validating one for artists, whether filmmaker or painter. And Downs' star turn in the film may be the ultimate reward for parents who he says pushed me to make work all the time. Downs will be a visiting artist at his high school alma mater, Greenville's Fine Arts Center, when the film opens August 18th. He says it's the place where he was introduced to printmaking, drawing, and ceramics, the ultimate full circle moment. That was, An Atlanta Artist's Paintings Take a Starring Role in the New Film, Landscape with Invisible Hand, by Felicia Feaster. Next, also from the Atlanta Magazine, Atlanta United's new 404 kit is an homage to the 90s. The club teamed up with Atlanta Influences Everything to create the kit, which will make its official in-game debut on Saturday, by Myriad Wells. The 90s were the decade that transformed Atlanta. The 1996 Olympics put the city on the international stage. Hip-hop legends like Outkast, Goody Mob, TLC, and Arrested Development made sure the world knew in the immortal words of Andre 3000 at the 95 Source Awards that the South got something to say. Freaknet took over the streets each spring. CNN made the city synonymous with 24-hour news. The Falcons went to the Super Bowl, and the Braves won the World Series. We could keep going. Heck, that's why we devoted an entire issue to the decade back in 2015. And everything that Atlanta became in that decade, going from a city to a global phenomenon, is what laid the groundwork for Atlanta United to exist, says Georgia O'Donoghue, the club's vice president of business operations. When Atlanta became this international city in the 90s through all of these things, the style, the music, the Olympics, all those events, that built a city that was open, that was progressive, that was constantly pushing the boundaries, and constantly in the news all over the world. And that created a space for a club like us to come in and do what we hoped to do, she explained. The whole reason we are here is to unite people around something and be a part of this community. And Atlanta's transformation in the 90s set the stage for us to be able to do that. The 404 Kit, which launches Tuesday, is all about the 90s in Atlanta. And to be ensured that it is told authentically with the Atlanta story, the club collaborated on the kit with Atlanta Influences Everything, the creative consultancy and brand behind Atlanta's favorite t-shirt. It features ATLUTD in a bold graffiti airbrush font on a black background, with thick white Adidas stripes on the shoulders and white trim on the sides. An illustration on the inside collar features a scene somewhat evocative of Freaknik, with three young Atlanta fans riding in a car with the city skyline and Mercedes-Benz Stadium in the background. Atlanta Influences Everything's logo is on the back collar. I hate to date myself, but it just resonates with the 90s, says Atlanta Influences Everything co-founder Tori Edwards of the kit's design. Back then, we might take t-shirts and go to the flea market and have designs put on them with airbrush. So the airbrush graffiti letters has always been a staple of the 80s-90s feel. The kit will make its in-game debut this Saturday during the home match against Nashville, where, O'Donohue teases, there may be a little surprise at halftime. It will only be worn for three more games after that, and sold only through the end of the year. That short half-life, O'Donohue says, is what inspires the Atlanta United front office to be bold and push the boundaries with third kits. Atlanta United will also release a short documentary film about the kit on Thursday that will feature interviews with influential Atlanta figures like T.I., Killer Mike, Shanti Daz, and Andrew Jones. Atlanta United is one of four MLS teams getting a third kit this year, alongside the New York Red Bulls, NYFC, and Toronto FC. The Red Bulls also have a graffiti-inspired kit designed specifically for August's 50th anniversary of hip-hop. While the 404 kit is also clearly hip-hop inspired, it made its unofficial debut during a Goody Mob performance at the city's 50th anniversary of hip-hop concert on August 13. But it wasn't specifically created for the anniversary, the club says. The timing, however, was certainly perfect. I think it's a conversation piece, Edward says. It's a great story. I think people who get the jersey immediately will be hype about it, and those who don't will be drawn into the story. And then, I think we'll all do what we all do best in Atlanta, and that's come together to celebrate greatness. The kit is available online and at the Atlanta Station team store for $149.99 for the authentic and $99.99 for the replica. That was Atlanta United's new 404 kit is an homage to the 90s by Mered Wells. Next up, we move to the Burnaway publication for Sebastian Missouri's Fragments of the City at Dale Veen Miami by Charlotte Foreman. From a distance, Fragments of the City recalls the wall of a college dorm room, curated with in-stacks mini-pictures, two-inch by three-inch exposures captured in passing, to be cherished after everyone has gone home. Beyond the vintage visual appeal of Polaroid pictures, in our post-quarantine world, there has been a palpable collective compulsion to savor and remember moments exactly as they are, to freeze time. Now that high-resolution cameras are more widely accessible, exacting the distinct granularity of experience holds less currency. The need to observe often and keenly the variable incidents of one's life is all the more urgent. When turned toward the public, individual perceptions replicated visually become a kind of collective world-building. Such is the project of Sebastian Missouri's exhibition, Fragments of the City, a tapestry of memory affixed to the back wall of Dale Veen in Little Haiti. Composed of 210 evenly-spaced two-and-a-half-inch by three-and-a-quarter-inch oil pastel drawings, the exhibition depicts passing moments of Missouri's life in his native Miami, Mexico City, and New York City, where he lives now. Each drawing has a geographic depth where the oil pastel accumulates with the rapidity of gesture, conceived more out of the urgency to define the landscape and his experience within it than to luxuriate in process. The drawings I make are quick and are influenced by day-to-day life and what I happen to experience, Missouri confided. To be sure, the drawings are deceivingly simple, rendered in bold elementary colors. Many of his subjects are legible to a discerning eye, the form of a fox, a canoe, a chessboard centered squarely within a neat paper frame. Other pieces, however, are less graphically immediate. The figure of an animal traipses through a red landscape. A ladder extends up a structure that could be a police observation tower or a dunk tank awaiting a school principal. At times, the illegibility grows ominous. A face peers through what could be the bars of a prison cell or a window spliced by vertical blinds. In a recent exhibition review for hyperallergic art writer and human rights lawyer, Jake Rahm said, there is a kind of decay that is accomplished not through subtraction but rather through accumulation. In aggregate, memories begin to lose context and definition, blur into one another, or become entirely irretrievable. The lapses in legibility across Missouri's drawings recall this same phenomenon, instances in his day-to-day life at times more defined than others. The irrelevance of legibility across the exhibition makes me wonder what about memory is more valuable, the fact of its happening, its existence in a certain time and space, or our ability to recall it in perfect detail? In the end, an object or event is larger, less time-bound than us, our documentation of it, mere symptom of perception, and our recollection of it doomed to be overwritten. By refraining from trying to make sense of his memories, Missouri attempts to remove his ego from the equation, and as an anonymous human observer, present only what he knows to be true, or what he can prove through physical evidence. Throughout this process, Missouri encounters a philosophical tug-of-war between the reality of a thing and his perception of it. By observing the thing, the fact of it is already slipping away from him. Avoiding from rubbings and photographs, Missouri tackles the physical manifestation of his subjects head-on, and still Missouri's character ekes its way into the process through instinctual choices regarding composition, color, and gesture. Missouri cites the Honduran short story writer Augusto Monteserro as an influence in his creative approach. Monteserro's writing comes from a similar place of a one-to-one relationship between the idea and the work. Almost like a direct translation, there's something that interests me about representing things that are more complicated in a simple format. In reflecting on it, I can't help but recall one of Missouri's favorite works by Monteserro, La Oveja Negra, The Black Sheep. Many years ago, in a distant country, there was a black sheep. He was shot. A century later, the repentant flock erected an equestrian statue of him, which looked very good in the park. Thus, every time black sheep appeared, they were rapidly executed so that the future generations of common, ordinary sheep could also practice their sculpture. Fragments of the City works not because Missouri is successful in conveying his felt experience of a city or the exact reality of it, but because that split difference, in tandem with the humility and lightheartedness of the works, leaves room for personal projection, the viewer's own contribution. As the exhibition progressed, each drawing was sold off piece by piece. The relation between the works exploded, only to be witnessed again in Missouri's limited run of zines documenting select works in the exhibition. As each fragment of Missouri's experience was dispersed, intended or not, the sale of the works became a more formalized invitation for viewers to become active participants in the exhibition itself, so that the stories of each of these cities would take on new life through individual interpretation. Fragments of the City is on view at D'Alesine Shop from August 5th until August 31st. This piece was published in partnership with Oolite Arts as part of a project to increase critical arts coverage in Miami-Dade County. That was Sebastian Missouri's Fragments of the City at D'Alesine, Miami, by Charlotte Foreman. Next we move to the creative loafing publication online for screen time, They Cloned Tyrone Doubled Down on Social Satire, Netflix film blends blaxploitation, sci-fi, and satirical commentary by Kurt Holman. At a time when streaming movies have instantly forgettable titles like Red Notice and The Gray Man, Netflix's new satirical thriller, They Cloned Tyrone, sports a name to put the rest to shame. It's an attention grabber that immediately prompts questions, who is Tyrone, why was he cloned, that can only be answered by you watching the movie. And while most of the big budget highly touted action content produced by streamers feel like bland imitations of better movies, They Cloned Tyrone brings an energetic mashup spirit to the film that clearly inspired it. You can recognize influences like John Carpenter's They Live and still enjoy the fresh ideas filmmaker Jewel Taylor brings to the table. Filmed at DeKalb County's Black Hall Studios, They Cloned Tyrone initially unfolds like a pulpy 1970s blaxploitation drama. Small time drug dealer Fontaine, John Boyega, goes about his daily routine in an inner city neighborhood called The Glen. He buys alcohol and scratch offs, he collects money from his underlings, and he punishes potential rivals. After his paths cross with ambitious sex worker Yo-Yo, Tijona Paris, and her stylish striving pimp slick Charles, Jamie Foxx, Fontaine gets brutally gunned down in a motel parking lot. Rather than roll credits, the film then shows Fontaine waking up and going through his routine again until a nonplussed Yo-Yo and Charles convince him that he was fatally shot the night before. The unlikely trio uncover an increasingly far reaching conspiracy that involves high tech surveillance, behavior altering drugs, and yes, human cloning. They Cloned Tyrone uses satire to reinforce serious themes such as how capitalism can influence cycles of poverty and violence. Mainstays of The Glen include the popular fast food chain Got Damn Fried Chicken and a liquor store called Got Dranks, the signage resembles a Waffle House, as just a few means of keeping the populace drunk, satiated, and otherwise unlikely to challenge the system. In one of the slyest details, a local church subtly reinforces submissiveness in its parishioners. The film traffics in over-the-top archetypes of hoes and gangbangers for more than just laughs. Boyega conveys the despair behind Fontaine's aggression in a role that echoes his breakout turn in the similarly themed Attack the Block. Even the preening showboating slick Charles has deeper concerns that he's past his prime and in over his head. Fox's live wire acting serves as a reminder that the Oscar winner is severely underemployed. He could be carrying multiple dramas, comedies, or action films every year. Genre films have always smuggled social commentary into lowbrow theming stories. The massive mainstream success of Jordan Peele's Get Out opened new doors for horror, sci-fi, and satire to scrutinize American race relations and other issues. With They Cloned Tyrone, like The Blackening earlier this summer, remixing tropes from previous movies. Jewel Taylor's film goes on a bit long and injects a few concepts too many, making the climax slow down when things should be speeding up. But it's consistently clever and inventive enough to prove that They Cloned Tyrone is no cheap knockoff. That was Screen Time, They Cloned Tyrone Doubles Down on Social Satire by Kurt Holman. Next we move to Arts ATL for Natalie Stutzman Conducts at Hallowed Beiruth Festival, I'm in Heaven by James All Polk. Natalie Stutzman conducts at Hallowed Beiruth Festival, I'm in Heaven. This summer, Natalie Stutzman, music director of the Atlanta Symphony Orchestra, became the second woman ever to conduct at the Beiruth Festival in Germany, created by Richard Wagner, who personally designed the story at Opera House, the Festivielhaus. Many opera fans consider Beiruth to be the most important destination in the world, and to conduct there is both a paramount distinction and a unique challenge. Longtime classical music writer James All Polk is in Beiruth to cover Stutzman's debut for Musical America, and also for Arts ATL. Full disclosure, Polk works as Senior Annual Giving Officer at the Atlanta Symphony Orchestra. He interviewed Stutzman backstage at the Festivielhaus about meeting her personal history with Beiruth, the challenge of conducting from an orchestra pit that's underneath the stage, and the thrill of conducting on such hallowed ground. Stutzman is conducting five performances of Wagner's opera, Tannhauser, at Beiruth, ending August 28th. At her debut performance, she received a standing ovation, something still extremely rare and meaningful at Beiruth. Her reviews have been similarly positive. Such a debut has not been experienced here in a long time, enthused a critic for the German publication, Marquer de Arts ATL. Let's start with your personal experience and history with Beiruth. What does this place mean to you? Stutzman, I am a Wagnerian. I have always been a Wagnerian. The first time I came here, I was 17, attending the Academy for Young Musicians. Stutzman attended a special school for young musicians. Academic classes ended at noon, and the afternoons were devoted to music. We got tickets, and I came to all the performances. I heard Hildegard Behrens, Gwyneth Jones, and all the big Wagner singers at the time. I was here for the whole summer, and I never forgot the discovery of the acoustics. I was like, what's that? You know, at this time we had no internet, no Google, no cinemas with surround sound. Where comes the sound? Where's the orchestra? Note, the orchestra pit here is underneath the stage in a uniquely complex design. We didn't know anything, and I never forgot that. I fell completely in love with the place. I always loved the music of Wagner, and it was always, for me, as a conductor, the best music in opera. Then I came back here in the 90s to do a recording in von Fried, Wagner's mansion, now carefully preserved as a museum, with Gerhard Alpitz, pianist. I spent three days in von Fried recording Wagner's Wassendach Lieder, and some Lieder with French poems that Wagner wrote. We did the recording on his piano. It was fantastic to be back in Beirut after the Academy as a famous, established singer, you know, recording for RCA Red Seal, which was the partner of the festival at that time. So it was very important to me. And then, 30 years later, I am here. The festival invited me and said, we would be honored if you would come and conduct Tannhauser. And I said, yes. And my manager said, do you have any questions? And I said, none, because it was a dream. I came, and now I have this incredible artistic alchemy with a festopathic orchestral chorus and soloists of the highest level here. For me, I'm just speechless. I'm in heaven. I did things with my passion, with my love for this music, like I always do. It's instinctive feelings, but I was never expecting to have such a splash. Artesia. How difficult was it to adjust to this infamous pit? Stutzmann. It's crazy. It's the most crazy thing you have ever done in your life. It's almost impossible, but what can I say? I was prepared because, like everyone who is interested in Beirut, I read books about it. I asked my colleagues, and they said, oh my god, it's terrible. You don't hear the singers. It's so loud. When you do hear the singers, they are late. But actually, they are not late, so you have to phone the assistant during rehearsals. Assistants in the hall communicate by phone with the conductor. When I came here, I did my rehearsals. And we had a very heavy schedule, like everyone in Beirut, because performing eight operas at the same time means crazy organization. I spent 10 to 12 hours a day rehearsing here for a while, but every time I had one hour, I would observe the rehearsals of my colleagues. I wanted to understand how the pit reflected into this special acoustic. I think for me, the only way to survive the Beirut pit is to learn how what you are asking and doing in the pit will sound in the hall, because in the hall, it is extraordinary. I learned a lot just observing my colleagues, listening, and going to the pit. But of course, when I came to the podium the first time, I didn't know how I would react, because a lot of excellent top conductors have wrecked very badly and gone away. Including with your opera, Stutzman, absolutely, laughter, Valerie Gurdjieff, who debuted here with the premiere of this production in 2019, was booed loudly, and his performance was widely considered to be an epic disaster. Tannhauser is not one of the easy ones. It was not written for here. Only The Ring and Parsifal were written by Wagner specifically for Beirut. But you know, I am an adventurous person. What can I do? Let's do your best. And I must say, maybe I was expecting such a nightmare. Actually, I felt quickly at ease. I might be wrong, but I think that to do well here, you must be an instinctive person, because it's just your instinct that tells you what to do. What you have to do here is nothing comparable to what you do in another place. Not symphony concerts, of course, but other opera houses. I was at the Met, which is a pretty tricky place. It's very big. I had a real challenge to do Mozart, which is already not my central repertoire in such a vast space, and it was a big challenge. But this has nothing to compare. It's unique in the world. The positions of the musicians are completely different. You have the first violin on your right. You have cellos, violas, and contras split in two. You have about 20 meters between five contrabasses and five other contrabasses, and you have this extreme slope. Then you look at the singers, and most of the time you think, okay, we are too loud. And you pick up the phone and ask, are we too loud? And they say, no, you are not. You have to learn in a second how to react to what you hear. You have to trust people, because you do this, and you don't hear anything. I spoke with friends and family who have been coming in here for 25 years, and they don't know what we go through. When people are playing, you become deaf because it's so loud. You cannot believe it. You have this cover, and it's not very high, and all this sound is coming to your ears. Sometimes I think I need plugs. Arte Tio. It's famously hot here, but I understand that some sort of ventilation system was added this summer. The Fistepol house is not air-conditioned. Performances of most operas begin at 4 p.m., and it can be quite hot and humid here in August. Stutzmann. Ha! I think it was because Christian Thielmann asked for it. It's so hot. On hot days, it's just hell. They installed two little round spots. It's just enough to avoid that the conductor dies. It's crazy. The musicians are in shorts and t-shirts, but they are very careful here. They're afraid to change anything that would change the acoustics. Arte Tio. You were invited two and a half years ago. How much did you know about the production at that time? Stutzmann. Nothing! Laughter. Tobias Kratzer's Tannhauser production is quite radical in fine Beirut tradition. When a production is very modern, and they might even boo, and then after that, they cheer. But this production has become very popular, and I personally love it. I love the singers. I love the musicians. I'm in heaven. Note, Palk reviewed the Kratzer Tannhauser production in 2021 for Musical America with a different conductor and a cast. A link to that review can be found elsewhere in the Arts ATL publication. That was Natalie Stutzmann conducts at Hallowed Beirut Festival. I'm in heaven by James L. Palk. Next up, Bronzelands Festival sharpens focus on underrepresented filmmakers' messages by Carol Badaraco Paget. Now in its 14th year, the Atlanta-based Bronzelands Film Festival begins August 23rd and runs through August 27th. In addition to its prime mission of showcasing BIPOC-created and focused content from around the world, the Oscars short film qualifying event will pay homage to the Writers Guild of America and Screen Actors Guild, American Federation of Television and Radio Artists ongoing strike. In a press statement, the festival's executive director Kathleen Bertrand said, Bronzelands Film Festival supports the SAG-AFTRA and WGA members in their fight to achieve a fair and equitable contract. As such, Bronzelands' components of Women's Superstar Honors and Sunday brunch with the brothers will move to 2024's first quarter, leaving 124 selected films and a loaded roster of film industry panel discussions as the primary focal point of this year's event. Official submission categories for the festival, which will feature screenings of works in each category, include short narrative, feature narrative, documentaries, short documentaries, dance, web series, music videos, and student films from approximately 17 countries this year. One of the 124 films on display for festival-goers to be screened at Landmark Midtown Art Cinema is the 90-minute documentary, Gaining Ground, The Fight for Black Land. The documentary combines the story capture of director Eternal Polk with production by New York-based Al Roker Entertainment in conjunction with agricultural equipment company John Deere based in Moline, Illinois. John Deere's Tharlin Fox, manager of its Coalition for Legislation, Education, Advocacy, and Production Systems, said, the Bronzelands Film Festival is a wonderful event to amplify the dynamic voices and stories represented in Gaining Ground, The Fight for Black Land. Fox added, we hope viewers come away with a deepened understanding of the challenges faced by black farmers and landowners and the importance of preserving land ownership within communities. Throughout history, the absence of clear title to heirs' property, passed to family members through inheritance, often without proper estate planning or a will, has disproportionately affected black families and black farming in America, Fox explained. He added that while black land ownership reached 19 million acres in 1910, today, due to heirs' property issues, black farmers own fewer than 5 million acres in the United States. It is imperative that we ensure these families and their descendants can hold on to and preserve what remains for the generations ahead, said Fox. The path to clear title is a long and often emotional journey for these families. It's not a quick transactional process. There is still a lot of work to be done, and these families and these farmers need our support. A panel discussion of the topic, a tight fit with the mission of the Bronzelands Film Festival, will follow the screening and will include Pope, an Emmy nominee, Fox, and Jenny Stevens, CEO at the Center for Heirs' Property Preservation in North Charleston, South Carolina. The group will inform attendees on the subject of heirs' property and current efforts to provide affected families with resources to achieve clear title. Additional highlights of the 14th annual Bronzelands Film Festival include an opening night screening of the film LaTosha Harlan at Landmark Midtown Art Cinema and a bronze carpet event. Thursday's lineup includes all-day film screenings and three panels, including topics such as finding your audience, indie filmmaking best practices, and entertainment law for creatives. Among Friday's screenings and panels are production coordinators and heads of studios, as well as a special panel celebrating Atlanta's hip-hop legacy, along with a second bronze carpet event. Saturday includes all-day film screenings at both Landmark Midtown Art Cinema and Southwest Arts Center in the city of South Fulton. The festival concludes on Sunday with screenings at both venues, a panel discussion on cinema and social justice, an awards event known as the Bronzelands Award to be held at the Carter Center, and a third bronze carpet event. That was Bronzelands Film Festival Sharpens Focus on Underrepresented Filmmakers' Messages by Carol Badaracco Padgett. Next up, Q&A. Justin Anderson picked as director for Rooted Garden of Connection by Luke Evans. In Deborah Zoe Lauffer's play Rooted, plants serve as metaphors for the connectivity between human beings. It is that connectivity that drove Justin Anderson to reemerge from a self-imposed hiatus to direct the play. Originally commissioned by Cincinnati Playhouse in 2022, the play will run at Horizon Theater August 25th through September 24th. Rooted tells the story of Emery Harris, Maria Rodriguez Sager, a plant researcher and YouTuber who lives in a tree, and Hazel, Mary Lynn Owen, her overbearing sister who has spent most of her life taking care of Emery. Their lives began to change irrevocably when Emery's internet followers begin showing up under her tree, chanting and singing, and leading everyone to realize that Emery may have inadvertently started a cult. According to Anderson, the play begins as a pseudo-sitcom vein before giving way to a much more profound message of belief in connection. The play marks Anderson's return to the Atlanta theater scene after taking a break in the wake of COVID to tend to his own private life. There was a burgeoning sense of needing to layer in some additional intentionality with how I was building a life instead of a career, he says. However, when Horizon Theater Artistic Director Lisa Adler reached out to him about directing Rooted, he was immediately drawn in. Arts ATL sat down with Anderson to hear more about his choice to come back and the idea of connection in our disconnected world. Arts ATL, what was it about this play that made it worth coming back to the theater? Justin Anderson, this piece found me. Lisa at Horizon graciously asked if I would consider working on this show. I have a longstanding relationship with Horizon. I knew it would have to be a pretty special story to get me to consider digging in the sandbox, so to speak. But upon first reading the script, there was something that was so deeply humorous, heartfelt, and ultimately human about this story and these characters. In a way, I felt like opening myself to exploring this piece was honoring where so many of us have been in the last couple of years, and this forced disassociation with people and these severed connections due to COVID. Arts ATL, it's a very funny concept as well. I love the phrase, inadvertently started a cult. Anderson, yes, and obviously in the play, it's treated as a real thing. But I think it's metaphoric for a variety of other things. These things that we as a society latch on to, that we give a ton of attention to, that may not actually be related to the root inspiration of what we actually started. I think that's also part of what Loffer is exploring in this piece, trying to figure out the value of slowing down and creating a quiet space of solitude when you're surrounded by chaos. It's almost like Pandora's box. Like it's sort of gotten out of control, and you have to ask, is it possible to sort of reclaim that, to find any sense of self in the midst of the storm that seems to be brewing? Arts ATL, I'm hearing a lot of plant imagery and metaphors. Is that something that's particularly explicit in the play? Anderson, it doesn't hit you over the head. The beautiful thing about how Deb has written this play is that you could think that it would be very on the nose. I don't think it is. I think it's delivered and framed in such a well-balanced, and I keep using the term grace-filled way. It's like this delicious aha for an audience as they're watching it. It makes sense when it needs to make sense. Of course, this is a metaphor for life, but it's not like there's anything didactic about it. It's not written in a structure where it feels like I'm teaching you something. It's much more about discovering and having this personal aha based on how it's resonating with you at the time. Arts ATL, what do you think it was about this play that made Lisa Adler think of you? Anderson, I'm just at a point in life where I don't really enjoy cynical work anymore. For me, it's more like trying to approach life with open hands rather than clenched fists. That's the kind of stuff that really gets me going. And within that, there's so much complication. You'll see with the piece. There are moments that are very funny and others that are hard. It's much more of a reflection of a normal everyday life. Certainly, there are heightened circumstances around it, but it's rare that any of us go through one day where it's completely comedic or completely dramatic. There's always a pendulum swinging. I think that's what it was. I think she understood that there was a lot of heart and thought that would resonate with me. Arts ATL, what would you like for audiences to take away from this play? Anderson, I would say I would love for them to be left with an invitation to investigate their own sense of meaning and belief. Where do they sit with life? And has that changed in the last couple of years? I would love for them to recognize the struggle for being present in a world that constantly seems to be moving. I invite people to come with an open heart. That was Q&A, Justin Anderson picked as director for Rooted Garden of Connection by Luke Evans. Next up, talk is cheap. To increase arts funding in Georgia, more action is needed by Jim Farmer. As soon as he heard the unsettling news last spring that Atlanta Lyric Theater closed, Alex Scullin knew it was time for action. As the managing director of Actors Express, he has seen how difficult it is for arts organizations to stay afloat. Knowing he needed to move quickly, he drafted a letter painting a picture of the city's art struggles, had other leaders sign it, and sent it out to the public. While there have been no lightning bolt donations, Scullin has heard from people that the letter succinctly explained the challenge arts organizations have been facing since the pandemic on top of the state's perpetual struggle for more funding. Over the last decade, Georgia has consistently ranked last or near last in the nation in government arts funding. According to the National Assembly of State Arts Agencies, for per capita legislative appropriations to state arts agencies in fiscal year 2023, Georgia tied for last in the country with Wisconsin. The state spends $0.14 per person with an arts budget of $1.5 million. Other surrounding states had much higher numbers. North Carolina with $0.84, Alabama at $1.28, Tennessee at $1.47, South Carolina with $2.16, and Florida at $2.71, up from $1.41 last year. Another issue is that historically many of Atlanta's major corporations have focused their arts donations with the Woodruff Arts Center. Last week, Intuit Mailchimp gave $1 million in grants to 10 arts organizations considered vital to Atlanta, including Arts ATL. Arts organizations have called for more businesses to follow that example. Arts leaders and various funders are meeting regularly to discuss the funding issues and look for alternatives. Some are contemplating the logistics of bringing back an arts advisory council to lobby for more funding. While the state's funding levels won't change overnight, new approaches are needed. An overview of funding. Each state funds arts programs differently. Budgets in some areas, for instances, include money to operate museums, provide arts education programs in the schools, or facilitate international visits. Here, those programs are not included in the Georgia Council for the Arts purview. Among annual government funders, the biggest in the state are Georgia Council for the Arts, Fulton County Department of Arts and Culture, and the City of Atlanta Mayor's Office of Cultural Affairs. Private foundations include the Community Foundation for Greater Atlanta and the Woodruff Foundation. Established in 1951 and considered one of the largest philanthropic service organizations in the Southeast, the Community Foundation for Greater Atlanta recently hired an arts director. The organization introduced Conronda E. Barker as the program officer for its Arts, Culture, and Creative Enterprises division at a May 2023 event and will begin sharing more of its long-term strategy shortly. Ayanna Gabriel-Turner, Vice President of Community Impact for the Community Foundation, says the organization allocates $1 million to $2 million annually to arts organizations. That has doubled over the years from what used to be $400,000 to $500,000. She is aware of Georgia's low ranking and feels the Community Foundation is doing its best to bring money to arts organizations. We are committed to being an advocate, Gabriel-Turner says. One of the things we want to do moving forward is figure out how we can get resources to sustain our giving because some of the resources we received during COVID we have spent already. Back in 2022, Georgia Council for the Arts approved $4.5 million for arts funding, a high point for the state. But in 2019, that budget became part of the state's Department of Economic Development division. According to Executive Director Tina Lilly, in addition to Georgia Council for the Arts' fiscal year 23 operating budget from the state at $1.5 million, approximately $3 million of a total $11.4 million in American Rescue Plan funds directed to Georgia Council for the Arts will be distributed this fiscal year. This will bring the year's state funding to $4.5 million. The American Rescue Plan funds, however, were created to help the country deal with the financial crisis caused by the pandemic. That money will not be available next season. It's a short-term influx. Georgia Council for the Arts is continuing to work alongside the arts community to not only maximize positive impacts for our economy today, but to develop strategic plans that will help our arts industries and artists remain financially stable against unexpected future challenges, said Lilly in a statement. Over the last year, Georgia Council for the Arts has been hosting town halls and collecting survey data to gather feedback from communities and artists on how the organization can expand economic development through the arts, better reach audiences and communities, utilize arts to fortify education and strengthen the Georgia arts sector. This feedback is used to craft a new strategic plan every five years. A few firsts from the 2018 to 22 strategic plan were the creation of the Vibrant Communities and the Cultural Facilities Grant Program, revitalizing the Teaching Artists Registry and drafting Georgia's first statewide arts economic impact study, which we look forward to sharing later this fall, said Lilly. Increasing the arts budget. Despite these advances from certain funders, area arts leaders have to deal year in and year out with the lack of government arts funding and comparison to other stated allocations is a bitter pill for many to swallow. Georgia City Council President Doug Shipman, who served as the President and CEO of the Woodruff Arts Center from 2017 to 2020, knows about Georgia's numbers and would like to find increased funding. How do I think Georgia can get back on track? It's going to take a dedicated revenue source. That is what you see in other cities, he said. According to Shipman, the city has increased the Office of Cultural Affairs budget by $500,000 in the last two years since he, Mayor Andre Dickens, and the new City Council came into office. Additionally, a 2021 City of Atlanta infrastructure bond was put on the ballot and approved by voters, which included sidewalks, parks, and $15 million earmarked for the arts. It has not been decided how the funding will be used. The newly assembled City of Atlanta Arts Advisory Council, formed by Dickens, will make recommendations for the funding, but Shipman said it will probably be more for capital funds than operating since it is an infrastructure bond. Nonetheless, it's an infusion into the arts, he said. You can do budget increases at the local level if you are diligent about it. A partial sales tax support has been long discussed in Georgia. For purchases made in the City of Atlanta, the total sales tax is 8.9%, which is split between the city, the county, the state, and MARTA. The state legislature has said the number can go to 9%, and under the Kasim Reed administration, there was a notion that the last tenth of a penny could go to the arts. However, the state never authorized that proposal to put in front of voters. It would take the state to enable that usage and a vote from the constituency to approve it, said Shipman. I think it would be possible. There is a better relationship between Atlanta and the state than there has been in a long time, but any tax increase is tough to get through. It will take time. We have been having those conversations. The need for arts advocacy. What Georgia and Atlanta lack, in Shipman's opinion, is a dedicated advocacy organization for the arts. In Charlotte, they have formed a separate nonprofit to advocate for the arts, but I think we in Georgia have not had that central arts advocacy organization, and that makes it more difficult to lobby for policy action. To get an organization such as that started, Shipman said, it would take an infusion of philanthropic dollars, a gift of at least $1 million or so. From there, the arts community could sustain it and take it forward. Scollin agreed with Shipman that having a true advocacy group would change the game. At one time, several advocacy groups existed, the biggest of which was Georgia Citizens for the Arts. You can track a direct line from the demise of that organization to the plummeting of arts funding in Georgia, said Lisa Adler, co-founder and artistic director of Horizon Theater. Funding was never good, but it was a lot better then than it is now. We are missing that. Georgia Citizens for the Arts focused on state funding. It was a citizen's organization, not an arts organization. It cannot be an arts organization advocating for themselves. It doesn't work, said Adler. Shelly Rose was one of the organization's executive directors from the late 1980s to the early 90s. Save for her role, it was an all-volunteer team lobbying for arts around the state. To have an organized effort to be able to advocate for public funding for the arts, with that, you can make more of an impact, Rose said. We had connections all across the state, volunteers from smaller communities with relationships with elected officials who could show the benefits of the arts. She recalled that during her tenure, Georgia always struggled with arts funding. The organization disbanded, and not long after, she said, Georgia's Council for the Arts budget fell sharply. It's concerning and sad that our elected officials don't recognize the important role that arts play in our lives and what they can bring to a community, said Rose. Vigilance in the arts community is vital. Atlanta City Council's Amir Farroki, who serves District 4, said it is challenging finding support for the arts to match areas such as infrastructure, public safety, and education, but it is vital. We're not fulfilling our potential if we're not also finding a way to support the arts and culture economy, he said. He was happy to see an increase in arts and culture in the city budget, but it is still dwarfed, he said, at the levels Nashville and Charlotte are funding at now. As the city's coffers grow their record reserves, we should be looking at continuing to invest in artists. I think our arts funding at the local and state level is always disappointing. Diversity cannot be stifled, but it can be enhanced, and we need to look for ways to enhance our creative class. Artists are succeeding in spite of our public policy, and it's something we should look hard at. So Lisa Kalk, Managing Director of Synchronicity Theater, said theater and arts administrators remain hopeful one day the situation will shift, or they can come up with ways to create a sustainable tax model. While no one in the arts community is happy with the level of funding, it's vital for arts leaders to stay vigilant, soldier on, and do the work that needs to be done. No cynicism, ever, said Kalk. It's activism, conversation, and working as a cohort. Thrive and fight. That was Talk is Cheap, To Increase Arts Funding in Georgia, More Action is Needed by Jim Farmer. That concludes today's MetroArts program, which was brought to you by Fulton County Board of Commissioners. This has been Kristen Moody for GARS, the Georgia Radio Reading Program. Thank you for listening to GARS.