Sun

6/25

Mon

6/26

Tue

6/27

Wed

6/28

Thu

6/29

Fri

6/30

Sat

7/1

Today

Sun

6/25

Art

Cheap Suitcase

Photo: Courtesy Invisible-Exports

“Whatever pain achieves, it achieves in part through its unsharability, and it ensures this unsharability through its resistance to language,” Elaine Scarry famously expressed in her pivotal book The Body in Pain. The group show “Cheap Suitcase” delves into these conceptual waters, using forms of bodily mutilation as expressions of identity and self, and adopting the body as territory for carnal experimentation. The name of the exhibition stems from Genesis Breyer P-Orridge and Lady Jaye’s conclusion that the human body is just a cheap suitcase: frayed, tormented, yet sturdy. COUM Transmissions, a transgressive British art collective from the Seventies, joins the roster with latex pieces replicating open wounds the group members themselves shabbily stitched during live performances. Clarity Haynes’s torso paintings focus on their sitters’ post-surgery bodies, simultaneously conveying vulnerability and resilience. And Hannah Wilke’s and Ron Athey’s mixed-media assemblages substitute for bygone bodies through clusters of clinical objects emitting corporeality and evanescence.

—Osman Can Yerebakan

Pride

Pride Fest

This annual LGBTQ street fair, now in its 24th year, blends good food, performances, and shopping opportunities. It is the ideal location to support businesses in the area and engage with some of the Village’s most involved locals. LeAnn Rimes will bring a headlining musical set; the event is entirely free and open to the public.

—Natalia Hadjigeorgiou  

Beach

Riis Bazaar Beach Pass

We’re approaching the heart of summer, and if you need an added incentive to get to the beach before Labor Day, here’s a good deal that’s going on all season long. You get two beers or glasses of wine; a cheeseburger and fries or a veggie dog and fries from Ed & Bev’s; and, for an extra $7, a beach chair for a little extra-comfy lounging. Plus, the deal provides a 10 percent discount on a ticket for the Rockaway Beach Bus — an option that may be appealing given the recent hiccups surrounding the city’s new ferry service from Wall Street to Rockaway. However you get there, after a couple of drinks and a bite, you’ll certainly be ready for a dip in the refreshing ocean, which is, of course, complimentary. Check the website for information on live music and other special events.

—Mary Bakija

Food & Drink

Smorgasburg Prospect Park

The ultimate sign of spring in New York City isn’t cherry blossoms or allergy attacks, but rather the re-emergence of outdoor eating. Just as bar backyards reopen and sidewalk seating returns, so does the alfresco behemoth Smorgasburg bring its tents and grills to the hungry, vitamin D–deficient masses. Around a hundred local vendors will set up at both locations: Saturdays in Williamsburg, and Sundays in Prospect Park. Smorgasburg was previously responsible for the Ramen Burger and Wowfulls, so as you wander, be on the lookout for the next weird food craze.

—Mary Bakija

Pride

The March

The events of NYC Pride all lead up to the historic Sunday march commemorating the anniversary of the Stonewall riots. For this civil-rights demonstration against anti-LGBTQ policies and bigotry, Fifth Avenue will host more than eighty floats, and everyone is welcome to participate in or watch the procession as they make their way to Christopher Street. For the first time in NYC Pride history, the march will be broadcast live on WABC-TV.

—Natalia Hadjigeorgiou  

Dance

River to River Festival

From City Hall Park to the Financial District to South Street Seaport to Governors Island, the Medici-like Lower Manhattan Cultural Council deploys some of our most interesting dance artists, including the Dance Cartel, Netta Yerushalmy, Faye Driscoll, Marjani Forté-Saunders, Beth Gill, Maria Hassabi, Jodi Melnick, and Will Rawls. If I had to choose, I’d definitely catch the long-awaited, The Set Up: Island Ghost Sleep Princess Time Story Show (June 24–25 at Governors Island), a six-year collaboration among Wally Cardona, Jennifer Lacey, and multiple international collaborators, all masters of French or Asian dance traditions. Consider taking a week of vacation days so you can wallow in all this talent. Events are free, though some require advance reservations at the website, which offers full descriptions and schedules.

—Elizabeth Zimmer

Music

Pride Island

This year, NYC Pride launches Pride Island, a three-day LGBTQ cultural experience, to take place at Hudson River Park’s Pier 26. The immersive music-heavy event features an impressive and diverse roster: Patti Labelle’s headlining set of soulful classics kicks things off on Friday, Tegan and Sara and Years & Years perform on Saturday, and singer-songwriter Nelly Furtado leads the Sunday lineup.

—Amara Thomas 

Music

Robert Glasper

With roots in jazz and gospel stretching back to his childhood and an education in composition from the New School, pianist and producer Robert Glasper has spent a lifetime bridging the gap between innovation and homage. His 2004 debut, Mood, featured a Radiohead-inspired reimagination of Herbie Hancock’s “Maiden Voyage,” and like Hancock, Glasper aims to inject jazz with modern energy, and pulls from plenty of other genres to do so. His curious and clever blend of improvisation, experimental r&b, neo-soul, and electronica have already earned him two Grammy Awards and an impressive list of collaborators, many of whom feature on his recent Miles Davis tribute, Everything’s Beautiful. He’ll play a free show with his quartet, the Robert Glasper Experiment, at Central Park SummerStage, with New Orleans soul-funk ensemble Tank and the Bangas and buzzy Brooklyn hip-hop act Phony Ppl set to open.

—Lindsey Rhoades

Theater

Faust 3: The Turd Coming, or The Fart of the Deal

If the onstage assassination of a Donald Trump–resembling Julius Caesar in the Public Theater’s latest Shakespeare in the Park production strikes you as overly subtle, then maybe you’d prefer this wild “satire of the Trump fiasco” by Paul David Young. An irreverent jumble of Goethe, the gospels, politics, and poop jokes, it’s the tale of a lying, self-loving, Twitter-happy clown king who promises to save the world but causes a nuclear apocalypse instead. The charlatan seizes power when the downtrodden populace makes a Faustian pact with him, selling their souls and winding up in the toilet. Young says he wrote the script in all caps, which seems fitting for our unhinged times. Augustus Heagerty’s production features a cast of four clowns in whiteface — though shouldn’t at least one of those faces be orange?

—Zac Thompson

Theater

The Artificial Jungle

The last play written by master of high camp Charles Ludlam before his death in 1987 was this noir satire involving a dull pet-shop owner, his bored wife, a dangerous drifter, and an ominous piranha tank. Beyond mere spoofery, Ludlam’s works stand out for the range and sophistication of their references (Double Indemnity bumps up against Zola’s Thérése Raquin) and the playwright’s strict adherence to the conventions of melodrama, even as he pushes them to absurd extremes. To mark the fifty-year anniversary of the founding of Ludlam’s Ridiculous Theatrical Company, his partner and collaborator Everett Quinton (who played the drifter in the original production) is directing a revival of The Artificial Jungle for Theater Breaking Through Barriers, a company that employs actors with disabilities as well as able-bodied performers.

—Zac Thompson

Pride

Femme Fatale

Back for a second year, this is NYC Pride’s official Sunday event for women. The rooftop party includes sets from three DJs (Nikki Lions, Mary Mac, and Tatiana) and an opulent setting in which to dance the weekend away. The first hour features a sponsored open bar.

—Natalia Hadjigeorgiou  

Film

Always

Steven Spielberg’s only romantic comedy was relatively inexpensive to make and delivered a modest profit, but, whether by timing (it was his second rough landing after the costly and ambitious Empire of the Sun) or intrinsic value, Always (1989) caused critics to question whether the Jaws wunderkind’s game hadn’t passed the point of diminishing returns. The film is somewhat obscured by all this baggage, which feels inseparable from its overcooked sentimentality (Spielberg attempting Borzage is like a dog barking the alphabet) and overmanaged design (each meticulously Rube Goldberg–ian shot is a variation of the newspaper staff gathered around the trophy in Citizen Kane). All that aside, Spielberg’s confused heart is never untrue; the lenient viewer can subsist on his earnest desire to share his idea of a classic Hollywood movie, and Audrey Hepburn’s brief appearance grants the film its benediction.

—Jaime N. Christley

Film

Simian Vérité

With Kong: Skull Island lumbering into the distance and War for the Planet of the Apes looming on the horizon, Anthology Film Archives presents “Simian Vérité,” featuring a dozen films that explore the durable cinematic presence of our closest relatives in the animal kingdom. Guest-programmed by the critic Steve Macfarlane, the series includes everything from interspecies sex satire (Nagisa Oshima’s Max Mon Amour, 1986) to screwball comedy (Howard Hawks’s Monkey Business, 1952) to videostore horror (George Romero’s Monkey Shines, 1988). And as the program’s title would imply, there’s a fair amount of documentary — from Frederick Wiseman’s unusually polemical film about animal test subjects, Primate (1974), to Barbet Schroeder’s three-hankie portrait, Koko, a Talking Gorilla (1978). But the real emphasis is on monster movies, including Gojira creator Ishiro Honda’s King Kong Escapes (1967); Dino De Laurentiis’s mildly horny 1976 Kong remake; and the Shaw Brothers’ delirious cash-in, Mighty Peking Man (1977). Throw in a little beer-drinkin’ and ass-kickin’ with Clint and Clyde (Every Which Way but Loose, from ’78) and you have a series that’s more fun than, well, lots of things.

—Leo Goldsmith

Dance

SlowDancing / Trio A

In 2007, video artist David Michalek slowed down the speed of dancers so that five seconds of movement took ten minutes to view; he then projected these images, at many times life-size, on the sides of buildings. This year he’s taken Yvonne Rainer’s iconic five-minute Trio A and divided it into forty-six seven-second sections, each performed by a different dancer; he recorded these movements at a thousand frames per second (as against the twenty-four of standard film), then stretched each section to five minutes and knitted the pieces back together to form a four-hour version of Trio A. The resulting work will be projected, at actual size, on three different screens, each with a slightly different time signature as measured by a metronome. Michalek’s dream team includes Rainer herself, ballet dancer Wendy Whelan, choreographer Richard Move, and three generations of other beauties. Gorgeous!

—Elizabeth Zimmer

Benefits

Sister Act, AbunDantly!

Nonprofit arts groups are slammed with rising rents, especially in rapidly gentrifying neighborhoods like Flatbush. AbunDance Academy of the Arts, uprooted from its Lefferts Gardens home and searching for new digs, dedicates its third-annual benefit to keeping arts instruction alive and affordable to students of all ages. Karisma Jay, its young founder and artistic director who’s an alum of STOMP and Broadway, leads a cast of 110 performers ranging in age from 3 to 83, including professionals and academy members, in a dance performance inspired by the Sister Act films; the performance will incorporate a live band and a choir of local seniors. Laced with new material confronting current crises in arts funding, and held in the historic Kings Theatre, a 1929 movie palace recently restored to its original splendor, this looks like a winner all around.

—Elizabeth Zimmer  

Theater

Harbored

For many, the Nineties constituted a blessed theatrical age; in those golden days, the producing company En Garde Arts treated New York as its canvas, staging plays along abandoned piers, in a Central Park lake — anywhere. But times have changed: Sprawling public performance has since vastly diminished. Happily, En Garde has returned. This week, their massive, immigration-focused dance-theater work, Harbored, will kick off summer at the Winter Garden. The show’s director, Jimmy Maize, calls it a “pageant, but with a lot of audience participation,” braiding together narratives of migration (like those found in the stories of the writer Willa Cather) with theatergoers’ own stories, harvested every night. What can the show’s brilliant composer, Heather Christian, do with a fifty-person chorus? The mind boggles. As for Maize, he says, “I saw Ellis Island out the window, and I thought — ‘I can work here.’ ”

—Helen Shaw

Film

Nitehawk Shorts Festival Selects

There’s not much of a thematic coherence to the Nitehawk Shorts Festival Selects program — a collection of seven short films running at 91 minutes total — except that every single one of them is worth your attention. A conscious effort to highlight diverse voices both on and off the screen leaves no two shorts feeling like a repeat of each other; standouts include last year’s Jury winner Vegas, a charming documentary about a gay country singer called These Cocksucking Tears, and a smoky comedy that’s best when watched completely uninitiated. Shorts are an important medium for rising new voices in film, yet they still remain somewhat inaccessible. Nitehawk’s curation of these seven noteworthy works should help get more eyeballs on these projects — because even little movies deserve the big screen.

—Kristen Yoonsoo Kim

Mon

6/26

Film

A Vision of Resistance: Peter Nestler

Photo: Images From Vietnam (1972) / Courtesy Deutsche Kinemathek

The Film Society of Lincoln Center’s “A Vision of Resistance: Peter Nestler” is that that rare repertory pleasure: the presentation of works by a major artist whose output is likely to be news to even the most hardened of metropolitan cinephiles. Documentarian Nestler’s films may seem like straightforward educational efforts, part of West Germany’s postwar rehabilitation project — How is glass made (How to Make Glass [Manually], 1970, 24 minutes)? How has life changed in the industrial Ruhr region (Mülheim [Ruhr], 1964, 14 minutes)? What is the history of the Jewish community in Frankfurt (Die Judengasse, 1988, 43 minutes)? — but through Nestler’s crystalline direction and precision editing, each question becomes a dialectical inquiry, an object lesson in cinematic materialism. If you admire Humphrey Jennings, Henri Storck, Joris Ivens, Straub-Huillet, Alexander Kluge, Roberto Rossellini, Chris Marker, Agnès Varda, Harun Farocki, José Luis Guerín, Thomas Heise, or Kirsten Johnson, then Nestler is your guy.

—Michael Sicinski

Art

Anish Kapoor: Descension

Anish Kapoor, to his enormous credit, is the rare contemporary artist who begins not with concepts, but with style. Whatever ideas emerge from his art come later, from the look of the thing, the way it feels and how it hits the senses. Although Kapoor tends toward a clean, spare, graceful style, there is often something overwhelming to his work. That’s certainly the case with “Descension,” an endless whirlpool that disappears into the earth, now installed at Brooklyn Bridge Park. Much of its power comes from the tremendous and ominous hum it generates, which most people will notice before they even lay eyes on it. If there is a drawback, it’s the location: Brooklyn Bridge Park is anodyne and clean, which blunts some of Kapoor’s force. Still, the installation introduces a dose of aesthetic anxiety into any visitor’s day, which alone is commendable.

—Pac Pobric

Art

The Arcades: Contemporary Art and Walter Benjamin

Admirers of the philosopher Walter Benjamin have reason to celebrate this summer: His unfinished magnum opus, The Arcades Project, forms the centerpiece of an exhibition at the Jewish Museum that explores the stamp of his legacy across today’s visual-arts landscape. The Arcades Project analyzed modernity by focusing on the shopping passages of nineteenth-century Paris: labyrinthine avenues stretched between streets, roofed with iron and glass, lined with storefronts to attract passersby — all a bit reminiscent of modern-day Chelsea Market. The exhibition features an idiosyncratic collection of artists (such as Milena Bonilla, Voluspa Jarpa, Cindy Sherman, and Chris Burden), each of whose work appears as a response to one of the thematic sections, or “convolutes,” of Benjamin’s text. (Kenneth Goldsmith’s poetic annotations also make an appearance.) It’s a tiny exhibit, but you’ll want to take your time idling through these jam-packed rooms. Imitate Benjamin’s beloved figure of the flâneur — that leisurely saunterer of sidewalks, caught up in a reverie of browsing — and bring a turtle on a leash.

Joseph Cermatori

Tue

6/27

Art

Calder: Constellations

Photo: Tom Barratt / Courtesy Pace Gallery / © 2017 Calder Foundation

It is odd today to think of a time when mobile existed only as an adjective, but it wasn’t until 1931, when Marcel Duchamp christened Alexander Calder’s unorthodox hanging sculptures as “mobiles,” that the term came to life as a noun. For another week you can walk through the Pace Gallery and see it transformed into a galaxy of the colorful biomorphic forms, all created during and just after the Second World War, a time of great personal unrest for Calder. (Many of his close friends were overseas, including the painter Joan Miró; a sister exhibit, “Miró: Constellations,” featuring works by that artist created during the same era, closed some weeks ago.) The war forced Calder to experiment with wood rather than his usual muse, sheet metal, a medium that was obviously in shortage at the time. The experiment paid off: The mobiles gathered here, some suspended and others mounted to the wall, have a kinetic, starry energy to them.

—Sarah Edwards

Art

Lygia Pape: A Multitude of Forms

The Brazilian Neo-Concretist artists of the Sixties and Seventies had some talent in their ranks, but Lygia Pape was the best of them. Her paintings and constructions are elegant, never plain; simple, but never too easy to figure out — qualities sorely lacking in most geometric abstraction. She was best when she focused on seemingly simple problems, like how to mark the passing of days. Each section of her sprawling, 365-part installation Book of Time (included in this show) is made from a single slab of wood that Pape cut up, re-arranged, glued back together, and painted. The cumulative effect of these pieces, arranged across roughly four hundred square feet of wall space, is enormous: Here is an artist who understood repetition and difference.

—Pac Pobric

Art

The Art of Spider-Man

If there’s one superhero you expect to see on a wall, it’s Spider-Man — and now, he’s all over the walls of the Society of Illustrators. Is the show good? Listen, bud: “The Art of Spider-Man” is the largest collection of original Spidey pages ever displayed, primarily focused on the sleek, elegant style of John Romita, but spanning the wall-crawler’s earlier, wiry days under the pen of co-creator Steve Ditko on through the intricate webwork of Todd McFarlane (who came on the Spidey scene in the late Eighties). Artists like Gil Kane, John Romita Jr., and Keith Pollard also provide scenes of the webhead facing off against his deadliest foes. Face it, tiger: If you’re a fan of the Friendly Neighborhood Spider-Man, you’ve just hit the jackpot.

—Rob Staeger

Music

Zines: Elaborate Disruption and Black Creativity

The “Talks at the Schomburg” series continues with this panel on the resurgence of zines, featuring such contemporary creators in the field as Devin N. Morris (3 Dot Zine), Nontsikelelo Mutiti (Nontsi), Kevin Harry (KHzines), and Jermel Moody (maple:koyo). The event will also encompass a “marketplace of zines,” curated and organized in collaboration with some of the speakers, and a look back at salient forerunners, including FIRE!!, a publication, founded in 1926, “devoted to the young Negro artist,” and whose contributors included major Harlem Renaissance figures like Zora Neale Hurston, Aaron Douglas, and Langston Hughes. The NYPL’s Steven G. Fullwood will moderate the discussion, touching on ideas of cultural erasure, the disruption of publishing norms, and how marginalized communities are breaking into the world of zines.

—Ivie Ani

Wed

6/28

Dance

Jody Oberfelder Dance Projects: The Brain Piece

Photo: Christopher Duggan

Seventy-two spectators at a time will experience Jody Oberfelder’s The Brain Piece, second in a series that began in 2013 with 4Chambers, a study of the human heart. A cast of fifteen performers and collaborators leads attendees through backstage labyrinths and confronts them one-on-one in the lobby and the theater; a clever film by Oberfelder and Eric Siegel, Dance of the Neurons, demonstrates the ways nuggets of information travel around in our craniums. Set designers Juergen Riehm, Penelope Phy, and Tina Kindermann, and lighting designer Kate Bashore, create the frame for the work, which also has a scent consultant; six composers and two sound designers contribute to the mix, along with a bevy of neuroscientists. Be ready to climb stairs, wander hallways, and have “a heightened subjective experience of the brain.”

Elizabeth Zimmer

Art

Calder: Constellations

It is odd today to think of a time when mobile existed only as an adjective, but it wasn’t until 1931, when Marcel Duchamp christened Alexander Calder’s unorthodox hanging sculptures as “mobiles,” that the term came to life as a noun. For another week you can walk through the Pace Gallery and see it transformed into a galaxy of the colorful biomorphic forms, all created during and just after the Second World War, a time of great personal unrest for Calder. (Many of his close friends were overseas, including the painter Joan Miró; a sister exhibit, “Miró: Constellations,” featuring works by that artist created during the same era, closed some weeks ago.) The war forced Calder to experiment with wood rather than his usual muse, sheet metal, a medium that was obviously in shortage at the time. The experiment paid off: The mobiles gathered here, some suspended and others mounted to the wall, have a kinetic, starry energy to them.

—Sarah Edwards

Film

Duel in the Sun

Some years after constructing the mammoth Gone With the Wind (1939), producer David O. Selznick tried to best himself by erecting this bewildering cinematic shrine to his second wife, Jennifer Jones. The bloated result, Duel in the Sun (1946), envisions a scorching western setting to match the wild passions of its protagonist, a mestiza named Pearl (Jones). The central narrative places Pearl in a lust triangle with a modern-day Cain and Abel, played respectively by slithering Gregory Peck and haughty Joseph Cotten. While credited to King Vidor (one of a half-dozen directors who worked on the production), this is Selznick’s picture, featuring the best and the worst of his bombastic Hollywood pomposity. The key remains Jones, who gives the film its spunky humor and pierced intensity, amplifying the Freudian undertones all the way to its mountainous climax between a girl and a gun.

—Peter Labuza

Film

Bad Lieutenant

Although perhaps overshadowed in the popular imagination by Werner Herzog’s berserk 2009 New Orleans–set version (starring a typically unhinged Nicolas Cage), Abel Ferrara’s Bad Lieutenant (1992) nevertheless stands as a smoldering and singular character study. Its central figure is a corrupt New York cop (Harvey Keitel, at his best) who abuses his power to gamble, fuck, drink, and shoot up. When a nun in Spanish Harlem is raped, something kicks loose in his blinkered brain and, although he’s “done so many bad things” (his words), he sets out to avenge her in his own way. Bad Lieutenants narrative is pure pulp, but the movie itself is so much more than that; Ferrara represents an individual’s delirium within a quasi-social-realist framework of a rotting city, creating a work of palpable anguish. The film follows in the path of Martin Scorsese’s Taxi Driver (1976) and prefigures Gaspar Noé’s I Stand Alone (1998) — a holy trinity of works about broken, lonely, imbalanced men roaming cityscapes.

—Tanner Tafelski

Dance

Dylan Crossman Dans(c)e: Here We Are

The portmanteau-creating parentheses in his ensemble’s name reference the fact that Dylan Crossman, a veteran of the Merce Cunningham Dance Company’s Legacy Tour and a star performer in Sally Silvers’s recent Tenderizer, grew up in the south of France and studied in London. HIs four-year-old troupe looks at identity issues in human behavior, in a fifty-minute world premiere, Here We Are, which investigates “intimacy and interpersonal connection within a formalist context,” with a nod to the social encounters experienced during moments of political upheaval and oppression. Performers in Here We Are include Jason Collins, Una Ludviksen, Sherah Shipman, and Brandon Washington, as well as the choreographer. French artist and scenographer Hubert Lafore, whose work centers on relational patterns, collaborates on the visual landscape, and electronic composer Jesse Stiles creates the sound score.

Elizabeth Zimmer

Thu

6/29

Music

Lila Downs

Photo: Marcela Taboada

Oaxacan-born singer-songwriter Lila Downs specializes in dramatic transformations that highlight and explore the feminine archetypes of Latin American culture. With the help of synchronized art, film, and photography, the former road-tripping Deadhead oscillates between a bevy of registers: deeply emotive mariachi, social-realist protest singing, shamanic healing, indie-rock belting, tender bolero crooning. On her new Salón Lágrimas y Deseo, Downs mounts a feminist attack on machocentric banda horn ensembles, pays a devastatingly beautiful tribute to Seventies Chicana activists Las Adelitas de Aztlán, and jerks the tears out of José Alfredo Jiménez’s ranchera classic “Un Mundo Raro.” Come early for Tucson’s excellent Orkesta Mendoza, a revved-up ranchera outfit fronted by Sergio Mendoza alongside the group’s secret weapon: dapper silver fox Salvador Duran.

—Richard Gehr

Art

Calder: Constellations

It is odd today to think of a time when mobile existed only as an adjective, but it wasn’t until 1931, when Marcel Duchamp christened Alexander Calder’s unorthodox hanging sculptures as “mobiles,” that the term came to life as a noun. For another week you can walk through the Pace Gallery and see it transformed into a galaxy of the colorful biomorphic forms, all created during and just after the Second World War, a time of great personal unrest for Calder. (Many of his close friends were overseas, including the painter Joan Miró; a sister exhibit, “Miró: Constellations,” featuring works by that artist created during the same era, closed some weeks ago.) The war forced Calder to experiment with wood rather than his usual muse, sheet metal, a medium that was obviously in shortage at the time. The experiment paid off: The mobiles gathered here, some suspended and others mounted to the wall, have a kinetic, starry energy to them.

—Sarah Edwards

Fri

6/30

Music

Daniel Bachman

Photo: Courtesy Facebook

Guitar virtuoso Daniel Bachman makes good winter music, spare and thoughtful, but let’s be honest — the raw, twangy blister of his finger-picking is also summer as hell. At 27, Bachman, who hails from Fredericksburg, Virginia (the same hometown of the late, great guitarist Jack Rose), has quietly emerged as one of the heavyweights on the American Primitivism music scene. 2015 saw the release of the lush River, and last year brought his self-titled record, which was a little more zoomed-out, with a little more drone; if River was the potluck, then Daniel Bachman was the slow panorama over the food after the party, once the yard has emptied and the thunder starts rolling in. Heard in-person, Bachman’s acoustics roil, rush, and then wash right over you. Will Stratton and Daryl Rahn open his Baby’s set.

—Sarah Edwards

Art

Calder: Constellations

It is odd today to think of a time when mobile existed only as an adjective, but it wasn’t until 1931, when Marcel Duchamp christened Alexander Calder’s unorthodox hanging sculptures as “mobiles,” that the term came to life as a noun. For another week you can walk through the Pace Gallery and see it transformed into a galaxy of the colorful biomorphic forms, all created during and just after the Second World War, a time of great personal unrest for Calder. (Many of his close friends were overseas, including the painter Joan Miró; a sister exhibit, “Miró: Constellations,” featuring works by that artist created during the same era, closed some weeks ago.) The war forced Calder to experiment with wood rather than his usual muse, sheet metal, a medium that was obviously in shortage at the time. The experiment paid off: The mobiles gathered here, some suspended and others mounted to the wall, have a kinetic, starry energy to them.

—Sarah Edwards

Sat

7/1

Film

Fern Silva

Photo: Fern Silva, The Watchmen, 2017 / Courtesy the artist

Fern Silva’s work — the subject of the latest entry in the New Museum’s ongoing “Screens Series” initiative — is marked by bewildering collisions that suggest, at once, unfolding mysteries, exotic adventures, and terrifying cataclysms. Combining a casually observational style of 16mm filmmaking with an intuitive sense of assemblage, Silva stages uncanny juxtapositions of the organic and the artificial. The Watchmen (2017) pieces together an ecstatic sci-fi narrative from images of abandoned prison-panopticons, Chicago hotdog stands, and jailhouse sequences seamlessly metabolized from films like The Blues Brothers (1980). Ride Like Lightning, Crash Like Thunder (2017) documents the Catskills, upending Hudson River School conventions of the painterly landscape with weird injections of horror, microportraiture, and Prince. Throughout, Silva’s careful attention to detail creates enveloping audiovisual experiences, notably in his hypnotic work with sound — combining pop songs, ambient noise, and ghostly abstractions. In the Absence of Light, Darkness Prevails (2010) jumps from a sampled voiceover from a Transformers sequel to Detroit techno to field recordings to samba, intercutting images of barely clothed Carnival revelers in Bahia, cosmic Hollywood CGI, and baby turtles scurrying toward the ocean.

—Leo Goldsmith