Design is generally a pretty subjective endeavor, so when starting a new project I like to do a little research into the subject in order to guide the generation of formal elements. Fortunately Technicolor offers a wealth of visual elements to play with, but the methods and appearance of color film varies a lot depending on the time. The earliest versions of color motion pictures involved three separate rolls of film—black, cyan, and magenta—that were layered together in order to produce the color projection. It’s a very distinctive look, and is wholly different from the colors you see in The Godfather: Part II, the last American film made using Technicolor’s dye transfer process. The early three-strip technique provided inspiration for the initial Winter Nights designs, involving a large and somewhat abstract W made from shaded cubes to reference a frigid, icy winter.

While working on this abstract and wintry version, we also pursued a more literal direction using film as the starting point. Keeping the W, this solution retains the grainy texture that characterizes many of those older movies. While each had its merits, ultimately we decided to go with the film-centric version for this year’s series, and a final version was created that made very clear the series’ relationship with film, as well as including the Technicolor theme in the graphic.

Using film stills in a campaign for Technicolor movies is a no-brainer, but this was not as straightforward as one might think. In the 1940s, Technicolor threw out a large volume of color negatives after the studios didn’t reclaim them, and unless they’ve been re-mastered those movies are now only available in black and white. Fortunately, we were able to find some great color images from Charade and Gentlemen Prefer Blondes. The beauty of these movies speak for themselves when you see them, and in order to try imparting some of that drama and motion in print pieces, I relied on careful crops.

One particularly seductive image of Marilyn Monroe offers plenty of details to highlight—Marilyn’s face, her eyes lightly closed, could be mistaken for being asleep when viewed alone. The diamond bracelet and thick gray fur are a glimpse of luxury, sensuality, and elegant excess. The full image, my favorite among Marilyn’s publicity shots for Gentlemen Prefer Blondes, shows the actress dressed in red, wrapped in fur, and draped in diamonds. Her open mouth, even more red than her dress, completes a frozen moment of ecstasy, and was the perfect image to use for our Winter Nights banner.

Jarred Alterman, Director of "Convento."

A few years ago, I was traveling in Portugal with friends, driving along the southern coast in search of good, cheap eats and local wine.   On the road, you meet people.  We heard rumors of a secret monastery in the Alentejo region, converted into an artist retreat and nature preserve.  Feeling adventurous, we decided to check it out.  I had this strange feeling there was something there waiting for me, beckoning me, but at the time I had no idea it would be the focus of my first feature film.

We made the drive from a coastal touristy backdrop to the barren countryside.  The green hills slowly became orange and tan and you could begin to hear the hissing sun.   The Alentejo is brutal in the summer, and we felt this intensity as we arrived at The Convento Sao Francisco, in the village of Mértola.

My first impression was an impressive gate daring me to swing open and explore.  It was so quiet, except for the hum of winged insects and the faint crescendos of clicking storks in the distance. There was no one to greet us and I felt like an outsider immediately, of mythological proportion.

After what felt like an eternity, I slowly lifted the latch on the gate, feeling the warm rusted surface on my fingers. As we slowly made our way up a long winding path, the background shifted before our eyes. Tall trees, exotic flowers and hidden stone sculptures suddenly replaced the once dry earth.  As we made our way deeper into the grounds, an oasis in the middle of this desert-like region surrounded us.  The sun’s rays, now dappled through the tall trees, illuminated a falcon circling above us.

We heard the calls of peacocks, ducks and the sounds of a rider on horseback.  We began to hear water running over stones traveling in the distance, and we could all feel the air around us cool down.   Only for a brief moment I saw the silhouette of a woman tending to bed sheets on a line, and she was gone.

As we approached the final path leading towards a door, a sudden rush of happy shouting dogs came running towards us.  They circled around us, checked us out, and made no complaints of our visit.

We were somewhere beyond time and you could feel it.  The monastery was over four hundred years old, but Romans, Arabs and Phoenicians once walked upon the grounds thousands of years ago.  I felt a connection to this frequency immediately as if something from the past was trying to communicate with me, so I listened…

I followed reverberated voices down a long corridor that lead me to a chapel, and it is here where I was introduced to the world of kinetic artist, Christiaan Zwanikken.  Once a place of worship, this chapel now functions as an open art studio where skeletal parts and deceased wildlife are wakened from the dead with servomotors and computers.

What drew me in to Christiaan’s work immediately was the shocking juxtaposition of his dancing, talking and robotic skeletal beasts against the serene backdrop of this quiet monastery.  It was completely unexpected; a robotic snake-eagle of hybrid skeletal remains and steel claws perched high on a wall, reanimated, drew you in closer.  A pair of stork skulls clicks and clacks at each other provided an avant-garde soundtrack.  An array of steam pumps, engines and acrobatic gears perform a mechanical dance, transforming this chapel into a science fiction installation – I was breathless.

Leaving the studio, I followed a different path through a field of lavender that lead me into the heart of the garden.  Thriving vegetables such as tomatoes, cucumbers and squash, were being tended by Geraldine Zwanikken, who danced her way through the brush.   She was smiling of course, as if she expected me.  I was soon introduced to her other son, Louis, on horseback, who greeted us weary travelers with an open heart.

I spent two weeks at this home, as a guest, and over the course of many meals, starry nights and exciting conversations fueled by local red wine, I became very close friends with this family.  Of course at the time I was not prepared to make a film, but I soon returned to capture what I experienced.

My film Convento attempts to transport the viewer to this magical place and experience what I felt on this journey.  I wanted to create a film immersion, using texture and movement as the main ingredients.  There is very little narration and interviews to fill in the blanks. I didn’t want to say too much; it’s the silence in between that I wanted you to meditate on.  So when you watch the film, you should explore within the frame with the same curiosity as I did on foot.

Come see Convento this Friday, September 9, at 8:15pm in the Ruth Lilly Visitors Pavilion.  For more information, click here.

When I was a kid my all-time favorite movie was the 1982 musical Annie. I loved everything– from the drunken Miss Hannigan, to Annie and her curly red hair and spunky attitude. So when I started doing my research for Indianapolis Opera’s upcoming production of La Traviata, I was thrilled to find a connection to my childhood favorite.

One of the things I love about opera is its tendency to permeate all different aspects of life. La Traviata actually began its existence in 1848 as a novel by Alexandre Dumas, Le Dame aux Camélias or The Lady of the Camellias. The novel was such a hit that it was quickly adapted for stage – The Lady of the Camellias premiered at Théâtre de Vaudeville in Paris in 1852. The stage play was such a success that Giuseppe Verdi turned it into the opera La Traviata, premiering in 1853. The tragic love story is so engaging, there have been approximately twenty different movie adaptations – the most famous being the Academy Award nominated Camille, premiering in 1936 and starring Greta Garbo and Robert Taylor.

Which brings me back to Annie – about half way through the musical, Daddy Warbucks, Grace and Annie go to the movies, and it’s everything I wanted the movies to be as a kid – ushers in tailcoats, Rockettes, glamour and movie magic. The oh-so-romantic black and white movie they were seeing was Camille.

Released during the golden age of cinema, Camille tells the story of Marguerite Gauthier (Greta Garbo), a glamorous and charming Parisian courtesan. Camille is a kept woman and her lifestyle is financed by the wealthy Baron de Varville (Henry Daniell) – who she meets, incidentally, at the opera – until she falls in love with the handsome Armand (Robert Taylor). Camille is ready to give up her lavish lifestyle to be with Armand until Armand’s father (Lionel Barrymore) begs Camille to turn away from his son, knowing her past will ruin his future in Paris. You’ll have to join us at the Toby to see what choice she makes.

This film is full of classic Hollywood drama and is a great preview to Indianapolis Opera’s final production of the season, La Traviata. Join us on May 5 for Camille at the Toby and for La Traviata at Clowes Memorial Hall on May 13 and 15. Tickets are available at indyopera.org or the Clowes Memorial Hall box office.

Working with living composers is, hands down, the best part of my job. Young or old, famous or totally unknown, bright-eyed or curmudgeonly, supportive or critical, it is always an eventful artistic road trip.

Composer Steve Reich was a boyhood hero of mine, so when we had the opportunity to work with him on Double Sextet, his Pulitzer Prize-winning 2008 piece that ends our concert at the IMA, I was full of nervous excitement. We’d been warned about his uncompromising vision, mostly via fifth-hand rumors that were some variation of, “He’s really demanding, and will freak out if he isn’t happy with what you’re doing.”

Reich was much more hands on than was typical for composers of his stature. Although he wasn’t ever actually in the room with us until the day of the premiere, we sent him rough recordings from our rehearsals at every step in the process of preparation, from the day of our the first Double Sextet rehearsal. He would offer us comments in detailed, illuminating emails, and we would try to respond to these concerns in further recordings.

Here’s an example, from a January 2008 email:

“Winds, strings and vibes from 409 – 432 are a bit ‘blocky.’ Try to always have the music ‘leaning forward’ vis a vis the beat and not right on top of it, hammering it. Light and always moving ahead (not rushing) wins the day.”

And another:

“When strings and winds come in at 537 its a bit too ‘espressivo’ – just a bit cooler will do it. Held notes have no crescendo – just evenly held. Think baroque.”

Both emails created heated arguments, and we went back and forth several times with Reich until he was happy.

Why does Reich get so involved in this process? Forty years ago, Reich’s house band, the Steve Reich Ensemble, was the only group performing his music. They evolved a distinctive sounding “house style” with its own unique energy. Compositions like Drumming and Music for 18 Musicians were developed without much recourse to the printed page. This intense, collaborative process led to a certain energy and style of playing that have become inseparable from the music, and Reich perhaps feels that it is his responsibility to pass this down to all ensembles that are encountering his work for the first time. This can ensure a sort of “legacy” for performances of his music during the composer’s lifetime, but what about well into the future?

And those rumors of Steve as an unreasonably hard taskmaster? Hugely exaggerated. After this exhaustive, intense process of preparation we were all a little jittery about what the composer might say when he heard us play the piece live. At the end of the Double Sextet dress rehearsal, at which the composer was present, Reich’s only reaction was, “Wow, fantastic. I really have nothing to say.”

Now that it’s spring, we’re days away from a concert of another sort: Grammy-award winning contemporary music ensemble eighth blackbird will perform at The Toby Saturday, March 26 in a concert co-sponsored by Ensemble Music Society and the IMA. So what’s the connection besides the truism that spring always follows winter?

One striking aspect of that wintry afternoon was the spectacular contemporary art everywhere in the home.  Wherever we glanced were paintings and sculptures by well-known artists. The collection was fabulous. So the guests were listening to a great collection of early 19^th century music while enjoying paintings and sculpture from 150-175 years later.

What would you think if the contrasting periods were switched?  Does the art you enjoy at the IMA or have on your walls at home match your “art for ears?”  Are you willing to go to a concert and be as surprised and challenged as you are when you enter the fourth floor galleries at the IMA?

I remember thinking once I was quite sophisticated and knowledgeable about modern music, so I expounded to a friend, “John Adams and Philip Glass—how pointlessly simpleminded.”  Then I went to a conference in LA where we heard excerpts from Adams’ then somewhat new opera Nixon in China. That evening changed my perspective on an entire group of modern composers and deepened my belief that music loses so much when it’s recorded.

When eighth blackbird first came to Indianapolis almost three years ago, I experienced a tinge of anxiety before the concert because this group included extensive percussion and used video projectors with amplification in the program, again extending my personal boundaries of “classical” music, and as well as for many in the audience.  The audience reaction by people of all ages was enthusiastic.  You have to be willing to jump in and try it out.

So look beyond the dozens of recordings of Vivaldi or Pachelbel on iTunes and come to The Toby on March 26.  Be open to change and discover exciting music by Philip Glass, Steve Reich, Missy Mazzoli and others.

Detour (1945), tonight’s Winter Nights film, comes from a little independent studio despised for its cheap pictures.  The studio, PRC, was said to be an acronym for “Putrid, Rotten Crud.”  (Well, it wasn’t actually “crud,” but you get the idea!) This moniker was so pervasive that today, when a PRC movie is recovered, we often find that this phrase has been marked on the film can by an unhappy projectionist.  Why then would the IMA choose to show a film from such a studio?

The answer is simple. Detour (1945) is an exception to the rule.  Director Edgar G. Ulmer never let a tiny budget hamper him.  Like many film noir directors, Ulmer had a background that stretched back into the German Expressionist era in the 1920s.  The Black Cat (1934) was his first major American film as director, and it was made at a time when Universal was strapped for cash.  Rather than shoot it as a traditional horror film in a drippy castle, with expensive sets, Ulmer rewrote the movie to take place in an ultra-modern fortress, with spartan interiors that cost little to make.  The film was a hit, and Ulmer seemed on his way as a top director.

Shortly afterward, Ulmer met his future wife Shirley, who was married to producer Max Alexander, nephew of studio boss Carl Laemmle.  Shirley and Max divorced, she married Ulmer, and the new couple were banned from the Universal lot.  Ulmer’s career was over before it had really begun.  He was banished to small studios for many years, where his talent for stretching a dollar was tested every day, especially at bottom-of-the-barrel PRC.

PRC specialized in westerns and cheap horror films.  At the time, theaters would pay a flat fee for a movie that could play in the bottom half of a double feature.  If PRC could make a movie for less than that fee, then it was profitable before it ever played in theaters.  Their profits went up as the film budgets went down.  Who cared if it was any good?

Ulmer cared.  By crafting Detour as a road-trip sort of film, the need for sets was minimal, and he could concentrate on action and dialogue.  His leading man, Tom Neal, was reliable, although somewhat temperamental, and the rest of the cast were competent B-movie actors who could deliver a decent performance with minimal rehearsal time.

Detour begins with a hitchhiker (Neal), who assumes the identity of a dead man.  The man had died accidentally during a road trip, and to avoid suspicion, Neal assumes his identity.  Things go downhill from there, as he meets up with a woman who knew the dead man.  She uses this knowledge for blackmail, and Neal gets in over his head.  The  plot twists a great deal, so the less said about it the better!

The film died away soon after its release, but it became a sleeper hit as it was released to endless television broadcasts.  PRC went out of business and failed to renew the copyrights on many of its films, including this one.  TV managers loved it, because they could show the film for free.  Audiences appreciated Detour’s stark black-and-white photography, dank mood, and double-dealing characters.  Its reputation grew to the point that Detour is now considered a landmark film noir.

Unfortunately, the same copyright status is hampering Detour’s survival today.  There is little money to make in preserving a film without copyright, since anyone can make his own copy.  There has been no definitive preservation made.  Many 16mm duplicate copies have made it to DVD and even internet download sites, but they generally have very poor image quality.  The 35mm print for this showing is the last one known to survive.  It comes from the collection of Wade Williams, who loves Detour so much that he remade it in 1992 with Tom Neal’s lookalike son!

After Detour, Edgar Ulmer recovered his career, although he often did low-budget films afterwards.  When the Library of Congress recently restored The Man from Planet X (1951), they discovered that the original negative was made up of dozens of different kinds of film.  Ulmer had snagged unused portions of film from other productions, sometimes a few feet at a time, to save money.  Over the years, some of these differing stocks reacted with each other.  Some sections got darker and some brighter.   It was virtually impossible to reprint the film properly!

Ulmer died in 1972.  His daughter Arianne, who is active in recovering and restoring her father’s films, was instrumental in helping the IMA get the print of Detour for this special showing.

Fathoming, though, is a big part of sustainability – that’s why we love it at the IMA.  Green thinking demands an experimental spirit, and usually reflects a nod to smart design.  The status quo (pollution, wastefulness, inefficiency) has got to go.

In that vein, this spring you can hear three free radicals speak at The Toby, as part of the IMA’s Planet Indy series: guerilla gardener Richard Reynolds is here tonight, design educator Emily Pilloton on March 24, and the uncategorizable Temple Grandin on April 28. (Grandin is a visual thinker, a cow whisperer, slaughterhouse designer, and heroine to anyone who lives with autism.  Plus, actress Claire Danes just won a slew of awards for portraying her. Thanks to her crossover appeal, tickets for Temple’s talk are already sold out, however overflow seating with a live feed are still available.)

While London-based Reynolds runs a global movement planting gardens in urban areas without permission, Pilloton has guested on The Colbert Report and is re-designing civic life in a poor rural town in North Carolina and the ways its kids are educated.  Introducing sustainability on the scene is often a case of designing a new system, whether it’s a wind farm, a carbon stock exchange, or a national network to power plug-in cars.

Behind the scenes at IMA, we need a redesigned system as well.  The IMA’s recycling program for staff and visitors, admittedly, leaves something to be desired.  There’s a meeting this week to review the text on our recycling bins for greater clarity and redesigning our dock to expand space for collected recyclables.  As a member of the IMA’s green team, I’ll definitely be collaborating with our crack Design staff to find solutions.

My fantasy is that we compost food scraps from Nourish Café and use it to feed the new plantings in 100 Acres.  Another fantasy is eliminating plastic from the Café (check out a prior meditation on plastic here).

But the IMA has gotten quite a few green things right, from energy efficient gallery lighting to a rain garden that absorbs storm water runoff.  Help us improve by leaving your suggestions for how you think we ought to keep greening.  Or supply your ideas for green innovators you’d love to hear speak…

Angelic sounds from the mystical country that produced Bjork, in the month of January, in The Toby, made by a musician headed for Istanbul and London once his US tour is done?  A poetic no-brainer.  So it stands to reason: you must join us at the IMA for Ólafur Arnalds this Saturday evening.

Here’s a sample from Arnalds’ new record, …And They Have Escaped The Weight Of Darkness:

I find these sounds delicate as a paper-thin sheet of ice on a lake.  Resplendent as white fondant on a winter wedding cake.  Patterned like lace, or bird tracks in the snow.  At the concert, there will be long-haired ladies playing cellos.  And moody sweetness with the lights low.  A little peace; a fairy-tale feel.

Read what one concert-goer had to say about the show in Detroit on Wednesday night.

Oh, I’m supposed to also tell you that you can enter a sweepstakes to win a trip to Iceland, courtesy of Iceland Naturally.

So, tomorrow, our crack IMA public programs team will fire up the lights and sound in The Toby, tune up the Bösendorfer, provide plenty of smoothies and beer (as requested in the rider), tear the tickets, and then let Arnalds’ sonic sheen wash over us all.

Here are three IMA events we have recently posted video of, all of which I saw in person. The funny thing is, in each case I noticed or appreciated something new while watching the video that I had missed during the event.

Former Secretary of State Madeleine Albright joined us recently for the opening of the exhibition Read My Pins: The Madeleine Albright Collection. I was very excited to film her earlier in the day- she is an amazing person and a wonderful role model for women of all ages.

Even though I was live-tweeting the Project IMA: Fashion Unbound Fashion Show, I  saw outfits for the first time when watching this video- they go by so quickly I missed them during the live events! I also loved seeing the materials used by each designer. This show was so much fun!

Since the art of film was born, directors and screenwriters have snatched drama from the lives of real people and transmuted them into works of cinematic art. From Erin Brockovich and Larry Flynt to Julius Caesar and Cleopatra, there are a gazillion real lives that beg for big screen treatment. Jake LaMotta, anyone?

In his new book, Whose Lives Are They Anyway?, Bingham interrogates the oft-dismissed biopic genre for its power to mythologize, demonize, sanctify, and complicate.

Think of the innovative 2007 Bob Dylan biopic, I’m Not There. Or Oliver Stone’s takes on Nixon and JFK. Not to mention Gretchen Moll in The Notorious Bettie Page–a film that might have been naughty but was actually quite nice. Plus Denzel Washington‘s channeling of Malcom X back in ’92.

See you October 28 at The Toby for this free 7 pm talk (details here). Meanwhile, leave us a list of biopics you find most notable – whether schlocky, exploitative or aggrandizing…