The director in a scene from Nice Bombs…
 
Chicago-based Iraqi director Usama Alshaibi seems to be one of the most prolific Arab filmmakers in the American independent film scene—and he’s almost certainly the most experimental. Working often in close collaboration with his wife Kristie, Alshaibi has jump-started the canon of what we might term transgressive Arab-American film.

In his over 50 short films, Alshaibi has updated the techniques of transgressors like William Burroughs and Kenneth Anger to transmit his obsessions with culture-clash, technology, religion, violence, sexuality and identity. He’s finished four features, two of which deal with porn and STDs, one with cross-cultural relationships and another with the personal reality of post-Saddam Iraq. He has three in production or post-production now, two of which—American Arab and Baghdad, Iowa—portray growing up Arab in the heartland in the in the ‘70s, ‘80s, and today, and the third, Profane, about a Muslim dominatrix in spiritual crisis.

As the news media shamelessly reduces the complex relationship between America and its Arab and Muslim communities into a dopey controversy over where to build a friggin’ cultural center or mosque, we need the perspective and imagination of Alshaibi’s work now more than ever.

Like most hard-working indie filmmakers, Alshaibi can always use financial help making his vision manifest. Click to donate to help him finish Profane or American Arab.
 

 
After the jump, check out a clip from American Arab…
 

 
Chouthi Bai from a village in Rajasthan breastfeeds a three day old calf whose mother recently died. Bai feeds the calf 3 or 4 times a day. “The gods will be pleased if I raise her.”

What an extraordinary way to acquire good karma.

Via Nothing To Do With Arbroath

 
I lived in Northern New Mexico during the late 1960’s and from 2003 to 2008, right at the foot of the Sangre de Cristo (blood of Christ) mountain range. This is an area that has drawn artists, outlaws, visionaries and lost souls for decades, from D.H. Lawrence to Dennis Hopper to the New Buffalo Commune and the Rainbow Tribe. The mountains are thought to have mystical powers, both good and bad. It is said they can mess with a man’s mind. I lived in Taos, which a friend once called “the world’s largest open air mental institution”, and I saw the flow of neo-hippies coming into town blending with the old guard who had been living there for decades. It was a wild mix of 1960’s Aquarian Age values and a kind of longhair punk nihilism - a fascinating blend turning a bit moldy at the edges and slightly rotten at the core.

Dennis Hopper was busted in the mid-1960’S in Taos for walking into a town council meeting brandishing a shotgun.

Shot in New Mexico, the “fat Jew on shrooms” video (Rob Tyner, is that you?) is a comically surreal version of the kind of madness you’ll find in the high desert, on the mesas and in the bloody mountains. The altitude can turn a simple psychedelic trip into something straight out of a Castaneda book and, in this dude’s case, something gonzo from Hunter Thompson. I don’t know how ‘real’ it is, but at 10,000 feet above sea level shit happens. Whether shroom boy is having a bonafide mystical experience or just going apeshit for the camera doesn’t matter. It’s the vibe, man. And the vibe is spooky.

In New Mexico, guns, pot and longhair are totems of some new bizarre breed of hippie outlaw.

The other video included here is from a film called “Off The Grid” and is the real deal. I knew these folks in the video. I had a store not far from where they lived on the mesa and they were my customers. Many were Vietnam vets, a few were clinically insane, others were social outcasts or folks just looking to live the simple hippie life. I liked most of them. But a few had feral children that saddened me. Dirty and hungry, these little kids were living in poverty and squalor, not by their own design, but by the choices their parents, mostly quite young themselves, had made in deciding to live outside of society.

The directors of “Off The Grid” were told by the folks depicted in the film never to screen the movie in Taos. If they did, they’d regret it.

A little comedy followed by something a bit more serious. The connection between these videos is kind of tenuous; longhairs with guns. That’s something I never imagined during the Summer Of Love.
 

 
Life off the grid after the jump…

 
It’s been a long hot one, this Summer of Hate, hasn’t it? Especially, here in Southern California, we could use a little rain… but since that ain’t gonna happen anytime soon, what about this cool endless groove record of the sounds of falling rain drops? Zen out, baby. We could all use a little Zen this summer.

Via DesignBoom

 
This is so completely ridiculous I just had to share. I don’t know what kind of drugs they’re taking down at the farm, but I want some.

 
Behold the perplexing multi-media underground electropop darlings of Tokyo, Trippple Nippple. Their stage show sounds like a J-Pop version of out-there 70s performance artists, The Kipper Kids, and features stuff like eggs, glitter, milk, blood and rotting food. From an interview posted today at the Dazed and Confused blog:

Dazed Digital: Is there symbolism behind your costumes and performances?

Qrea Nippple: Last time we were doing some guillotine things, and we cut so many heads off balloons. The helium goes to the ceiling. Yuka was crying like, “Oh I feel so guilty for killing so many balloon heads, so I drew some really wicked, bad faces on the balloons, so she wouldn’t feel guilty for cutting their heads off. ”

Dazed Digital: What were some of your most memorable performances?

Yuka Nippple: We have a lot of stories about making a mess. We played club Asia in Tokyo and our costumes were mud, just that. And we put on some blonde hair ponytails. We were just mud and blonde hair ponytail. That was our costume. It was a lot of fun as always. But in the morning when the lights turned on, the whole club was covered in dry mud. And everyone went mad, and everyone had to clean up until about 9am in the morning. We made a lot of people really upset. We didn’t mean to of course, but my bad, but I’d like to announce that we can do “Not dirty one” too! People sometimes misunderstand what we are, but we are musicians!

Dazed Digital: So where did you acquire all this mud?

Yuka Nippple: Amazing, amazing store called Tokyu Hands in Shibuya. It’s a department store with 21 floors of DIY stuff. We get everything from there. You can spend a day just looking for things. We found rice-field mud in a packet.
 

 
Read the entire article at Dazed Digital: TOKYO’S TRIPPPLE NIPPPLES: Insane electro popstresses hailing from the fine land of Tokyo talk fake tits and their milky alcohol

 
Since we at Dangerous Minds have previously found ourselves marveling at his film Performance, it only makes sense to salute the wonderful English filmmaker Nicolas Roeg on this, his 81st birthday.

Check out Steve Rose’s great interview in the Guardian with the oft-aloof and prickly director (from which I paraphrase this post’s title), and for heaven’s sake check out the man’s films. He’s currently working on a screen adaptation of Martin Amis’s book Night Train.

Here’s a cool overview, with five themes spotlighted, by the excellent film video-essayist Hugo Redrose.
 

 
Ultra-creepy flesh furniture sculptures by Jessica Harrison. Jessica, was this really necessary? Ack!
 
See more fleshy-furniture-madness after the jump…

 
Sorry, folks! The auction is over! Some lucky soul paid $115 for this blood-sucking reborn doll. Here’s the description below:

GORGEOUS TWILIGHT BABY

HIS FANGS ARE SECURED INTO HIS MOUTH BUT CARE SHOULD BE TAKEN WHEN USING HIS MODIFIED PACIFIER AND BOTTLE OF FAKE ANIMAL BLOOD.

IF YOU CHOOSE TO CHANGE HIS NAME LET ME KNOW AT TIME OF ADOPTION AND IT CAN BE PUT ON HIS ADOPTION PAPERS.

My gawd.

Click here to see the original eBay listing and more delightful ohmygodgorunandhide photos.

(via Regretsy )

 
John Callahan, known for his dark, crude and morbidly funny cartoons has died.

Considering the shitty hand that life dealt him and the shit he brought upon himself, it’s a miracle that Callahan found anything funny. He never knew his birth parents and as a child was sexually molested by a female teacher. He turned to alcohol at the age of 14 to deal with the pain of having been abused. A full-blown alcoholic by the age of 21, he was involved in a car accident when the driver, a friend, ran the vehicle into a lightpole at 90mph. The crash severed Callahan’s spine, leaving him a quadriplegic.

What was a potentially hopeless situation became a profound turning point in Callahan’s life. He gave up booze and became an artist.  After a long period of physical therapy he was able to hold a pen in his hand. He started creating the cartoons that brought him notoriety and fans like Richard Pryor, Robin Williams, Bill Plympton and Gary Larson. His autobiography ‘Don’t Worry, He Won’t Get Far on Foot’ became a bestseller.

Callahan was 59 when he died on July 24th. The causes were complications of quadriplegia and respiratory problems. His politically incorrect slaps at the status quo and unflinching honesty will be missed.  John was the kind of turd in the punchbowl that keeps us from drinking the Koolaid.

‘I Think I was An Alcoholic’ was animated by Callahan and ‘Touch Me Some Place I Can Feel’ is a clip from a documentary of the same name about Callahan.
 
see ‘Touch Me Some Place I Can Feel’  after the jump…