For more than 40 years and in nearly 40 films, director Frederick Wiseman has documented a wide range of people's everyday routines and the goings-on inside institutions. He's been a fly on the wall at a mental institution, a suburban high school, an urban hospital, and the Idaho State Legislature. A "big ballet fan," and a sometimes-resident of Paris, Wiseman recently turned his camera to one of France's most important cultural institutions: the Paris Opera Ballet. His new film, "La Danse," is currently playing at the Film Forum in New York and will be broadcast later on PBS. He talked to me by phone from Boston.
 
 

 
 
 
JEFFREY BROWN: Frederick Wiseman, hello to you.

FREDERICK WISEMAN: Hello to you.

JEFFREY BROWN: Tell me how, first, how did this project come about? Why pick a ballet company? Why pick this company?

FREDERICK WISEMAN: I was living in Paris, as I have for much of the last 8 years and I'm a big ballet fan and in 1992, I'd made a movie about the American Ballet Theater and when I was in Paris, I went to the ballet a lot and I thought it was time to make another ballet movie.

JEFFREY BROWN: So how do you make something like this happen? I mean you famously look at all kinds of different institutions. How do you approach them? What do you offer? What kind of negotiations are there?

FREDERICK WISEMAN: In this case, I simply called up Brigitte Lefevre, who's the head of the ballet company at the Paris Opera and asked if I could come see her. I went to see her. I told her what I wanted to do. She accepted the idea right away and she -- her permission opened all the doors for me and then -- then I, of course, had to get the money. (Laughter.)

I was able to get the money partially from PBS and partially from France. And I went ahead and made the film. My original conversation with her was in the spring of 2007 and I shot the film in the fall of 2007 because at that moment, the repertory included both modern and classical ballets. So I had a chance to show the full range and diversity of the choice of ballet and the talents of the dancers.

JEFFREY BROWN: Yeah, I want to understand what doing a film like this entails. Before you shoot, I mean, how much prep or research goes into it? How much time do you spend there without the cameras?

FREDERICK WISEMAN: I spend a day.

JEFFREY BROWN: A day? That's it?

[Full transcript after the jump]

Tonight on the NewsHour, Jeffrey Brown talks to Wu Man, who at age 45 is one of the world's leading musical ambassadors. She's a master of the pipa -- a four-stringed lute with ancient roots in central Asia and China -- who's bridging east and west, and old and new. She's as comfortable playing traditional folk music with Chinese villagers as she is performing contemporary music written by some of today's leading Western classical composers.

Below you can watch Wu and Zhang Ximin perform a folk song and also extended interviews with Wu and Clive Gillenson, Carnegie Hall's executive director, oversaw the Ancient Paths, Modern Voices festival.

Jeanne-Claude, the artist who collaborated with her partner Christo on monumental installation projects like "The Gates" in New York and "The Wrapped Reichstag" in Berlin, passed away Wednesday at a hospital in New York from complications of a brain aneurysm. She was 74.

Jeanne-Claude Denat de Guillebon was born in Casablanca on June 13, 1935 -- the same day, it would turn out, as her future husband, Christo. She was educated in Switzerland and France, studying Latin and philosophy, and moved to Paris in 1957, when her father became head of the prestigious Ecole Polytechnique. She met Christo in 1958 and together they produced his first one-man show in June 1961, which consisted primarily of a tarpaulin slung over a stack of oil drums on a German wharf. 'Dockside Packages' would prefigure a lifetime preoccupation with fabric and was the first in a series of colossal wrappings that would make them famous. Even though the couple did not publicly acknowledge Jeanne-Claude's role in their installations until 1994, she'd always been a partner in the creation of their work.

Jeanne-Claude had dyed fire-red hair, a dulcet voice and striking magnanimity in the face of detractors. At press conferences, she often interrupted her husband to gently chide their critics or expand upon some aspect of their work. Together, they helped move contemporary exhibitions from the interiors of cultural institutions to the outdoors.

[Watch a slideshow of moments from Jeanne-Claude and Christo's career together.]
 
 
Christo and Jeanne-Claude's installations were never discreet and often so massive that they provoked accusations of profligacy or narcissism. In Northern California in the early '70s, residents of Sonoma and Marin Counties objected strenuously to the couple's plan to rig an 18-foot-high, 24-mile-long fence of nylon fabric. More recently, their plan to cover the Arkansas River with fabric upset some who feared the invasion of hundreds of thousands of visitors, even spawning an opposition group called "Rags Over the Arkansas River."

Nonetheless, by virtue of their unique method of fundraising, Christo and Jeanne-Claude were relatively immune to naysayers. In a recent interview with Art Beat, Jeanne-Claude said that their work existed "without justification, like a poem."

"The passing of Jeanne-Claude must be especially cruel for Christo, who was so very close both personally and as a team," Philippe de Montebello, former director of the Metropolitan Museum of Art, said in an email. De Montebello was instrumental in the implementation of "The Gates" in Central Park. "The two together were among the most inventive and marking artists of the last 40 years, and one can only hope that Christo will find the strength to continue their work. She remains his muse," he said.

It's unclear how Jeanne-Claude's death will affect their two works in progress ("Over the River" in southern Colorado and the Mastaba in the United Arab Emirates), but in a statement on their Web site, Christo affirmed that he "is committed to honor the promise they made to each other many years ago," and that "the art of Christo and Jeanne-Claude will continue."

Editor's Note: Art Beat talked to Jeanne-Claude and Christo this summer in a two-part series on a major installation project under development in Colorado.

Click here for Part 1.
Click here for Part 2.

On Wednesday, prolific songwriter and singer Johnny Mercer would have turned 100. In his lifetime, he worked with more than 200 collaborators and churned out lyrics for more than 1,500 songs for both Broadway and the silver screen, which were made famous by stars like Judy Garland, Bing Crosby, Fred Astaire and Louis Armstrong. He was also a founder of recording label Capitol Records.

To celebrate the anniversary, a new complete collection of Mercer's lyrics has just been published. One of the scholars who worked on that collection, Robert Kimball, spoke with me by phone from New York about Mercer's legacy and the project.

For more on Mercer, check out this story from NPR Music.

And here's "Moon River," one of Johnny Mercer's most famous songs (with music by Henry Mancini), sung by Audrey Hepburn in "Breakfast at Tiffany's," for which he won an Academy Award:

Artist Jeanne-Claude, who with her husband Christo, created public art installations around the world, has died. She was 74. Her family said she died Wednesday night at a New York hospital from complications of a brain aneurysm.

Most recently, in February 2005, Jeanne-Claude and Christo created the art installation in Central Park called "The Gates." Constructed from more than 7,500 metal gates draped with orange fabric, city officials estimated that the project brought in about 4 million visitors and generated $254 million.

The Associated Press reported that Mayor Michael Bloomberg spoke with Christo on Thursday morning and offered condolences on behalf of all New Yorkers.
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
Editor's Note: Art Beat talked to Jeanne-Claude and Christo this summer for a two-part series on a major installation project under development in Colorado.

Click here for Part 1.
Click here for Part 2.

We'll have more on the life and work of Jeanne-Claude later today.

There are at least 2.2 million working artists in America, 300,000 of whom don't have health insurance, according to federal statistics. Some are self-employed and can't afford individual plans. Some work for non-profits or part-time jobs that don't offer insurance plans.

Americans for the Arts, a national arts advocacy non-profit, has made the health care debate one of its primary issues as proposed legislation moves through Congress. This August, Americans for the Arts and more than 20 other arts non-profits released a statement outlining priorities for a health care bill as it would apply to the cultural sector.

Robert Lynch, the organization's president and CEO, believes any health care bill must include an option that is more affordable and accessible than what's available now. Cost is "the number one obstacle" for artists, says Lynch.

Americans for the Arts also advocates for a universal health care option for artists who haven't been insured for a period of time and are at risk of being denied for pre-existing conditions; help for smaller non-profits organizations to come up with less expensive options for group insurance plans; and incentives for artists and arts workers who play a roll in creating healing atmospheres in hospitals or do art therapy.

Art Beat talked to Lynch earlier this fall:

Editor's Note: Jeffrey Brown talked to Lynch in March about the state of arts funding across the country.

We'll have more on the health care debate coming up soon on Art Beat, including interviews with artists about how they manage their health care. You can also read more about the national debate on our Rx for Reform page.

Holding out for the course of a career that spans more than 40 years, photographer Robert Bergman refused to compromise on when and where he would hold his first show -- standing by a personal philosophy of "getting it right," he patiently waited for the right time.

When it came this year, the 65 year-old artist landed not just one exhibition, but three. 'Robert Bergman: Portraits, 1986-1995,' which opened in October at the National Gallery of Art, showcases 33 portraits Bergman took while traveling around American cities. In addition, 'Robert Bergman: Selected Portraits' is at P.S.1 in Queens (a branch of the Museum of Modern Art), as well as 'Robert Bergman: A Kind of Rapture' at the Yossi Milo gallery in New York City.

Born in New Orleans in 1944 and raised in Minnesota, Bergman began to explore photography at around the age of 5, snapping photos and developing his own negatives before he gave it up as an adolescent. At 20, when he dropped out of college, he "followed [his] instincts again." He picked the work back up, and hasn't put his 35mm Nikon down since.

Part of a project Bergman undertook to document people within the American cityscape, the subjects in the photographs at the National Gallery are all individuals he encountered within a 12-year period of cross-country travel during the 1980s and 90s. When he encountered people that interested him, he would get out of the car to ask permission to take their picture; rarely did they say no.

The portraits feature individuals of all ages, races and socio-economic class, whose facial expressions seem to reveal complex emotions and the physical evidence of struggle and life experience. Bergman also hones in on posture, gesture and a sense of form.

"I think that people who look at the imagery carefully will begin to see that psychological complexity of the people that he is depicting," said Sarah Greenough, the senior curator of photography at the National Gallery of Art, and the curator of Bergman's exhibit.

Art Beat talked to curator Sarah Greenough about the impact of Bergman's work and the variety of emotions the portraits reveal.

For his 1998 book of portraits, "A Kind of Rapture," Bergman approached Toni Morrison to write the introduction. But Morrison politely declined, stating she wanted to focus on her own work. So Bergman persisted and waited, and finally received what he wanted: an essay called 'The Fisherwoman,' a tale reflecting on "the other" and universal humanity. "Occasionally there arises an event or a moment that one knows immediately will forever mark a place in the history of artistic endeavor," wrote Morrison. "Robert Bergman's portraits represent such a moment, such an event."

Despite the publication of his monograph, there had been still no literal event for Bergman, no right moment for his first show -- until now. "I think the idea of an exhibition...gradually evolved over time," explained Sarah Greenough.

Bergman is hesitant to offer an artist statement. "I don't know how to elicit an artist statement from myself...I just don't have an interest in limiting the response to the work."

"Many artists are hesitant to define what they want people to get from their works because each person will approach it with a completely different life experience, a completely different understanding and one doesn't want to limit it and prescribe it ahead of time," says Greenough.

Bergman is willing, though, to talk about what he, as a viewer, "got" from the work of another photographer. Robert Frank's famous series 'The Americans' had a particular impact on Bergman's work, and on his philosophy regarding instinct and intuition. "Frank's influence was profound...He confirmed what I felt as a child -- both in photography and in archery -- which was that, first, one had to have a vision. And second, that the faculties of being human that serve that vision are those of intuition and emotion and sense of form."

"I just went on instinct," says Bergman. "I trust intuition...Always, I go on instinct."

'Robert Bergman: Portraits, 1986-1995,' is at the National Gallery of Art until January 10, 2010; P.S.1's 'Robert Bergman: Selected Portraits' is up until January 4, 2010, and 'Robert Bergman: A Kind of Rapture' at the Yossi Milo gallery runs through January 9, 2010.

Airing tonight on Independent Lens is 'No Subtitles Necessary,' the story of two Hungarian filmmakers who reconfigured the landscape of American film in the 1960s and 70s.

Though they would eventually rise to the forefront of what many have dubbed the "American New Wave," cinematographers Laszlo Kovacs and Vilmos Zsigmond first met at a film school in Budapest. When the Soviets invaded in 1956, Kovacs and Zsigmond grabbed one of the school's Arriflex cameras and some film stock and went out secretly to film the brutal crackdown on protestors and freedom fighters. The two men smuggled the footage out of the country, and it later aired on CBS, becoming the lasting visual evidence of the crushed Hungarian revolution.

"I think you can see in how [Kovacs and Zsigmond] shot violence in their films that they were impacted by what they saw in the streets of Budapest," explains James Chressanthis, director of "No Subtitles Necessary." "When Laszlo laid a camera on the side of the road for the death sequence at the end of 'Easy Rider,' with it being so vivid and violent, you wonder, how did he sense that and capture that? The vivid nature of their cinematography, where does it come from?"

Watch a clip from 'No Subtitles Necessary.'

Kovacs and Zsigmond helped each other throughout their careers, offering both moral and professional support. Their similar cinematic sensibilities were a direct result of their shared past. "I got the idea of how to light 'The Hired Hand' from the villages in Hungary where there was no electricity and they used kerosene lamps," Zsigmond says in tonight's documentary. "Creating the mood is more important than making everything look beautiful. Laszlo and I sort of created the nouvelle vague in the U.S.; simple lighting, but more realistic."

Their combined resumes read like a nearly comprehensive catalog of the best of independent American cinema at its epoch: Kovacs shot "Easy Rider" and then "Five Easy Pieces" in 1970. Zsigmond followed with Robert Altman's "McCabe & Mrs. Miller" in 1971 and "Deliverance" in 1972. They worked with Steven Spielberg, Peter Bogdanovich, Brian De Palma, Norman Jewison, and Mark Rydell, among many other of the greatest directors from that period, with whom and for whom, these two men helped shape the look and feel of the American film.

Check your local listings for the time.

By Kwame Dawes

Kingston settles on your skin,
the grit of wood-fire and exhaust
on your body; you know sin,
the pleasure of untrammeled lust.

Kingston is green in November,
so much rain; the water creeps
to the surface. I remember
the taste of june plum seeds.

Most of my friends are dying--
the thing is they know it,
and the others are busy nursing
the dying: God's cruel edits.

So many saints frighten me
and I grow silent, disease
has a name: HIV/AIDS.
We are caught up in a breeze

that grows to a growl
crossing the water, dragging
the belly of the sea--a howl
shattering the black evening.

I stand in the storm,
let its battering break me;
I know now every form
of death; no more mystery here.

The eye passes mutely;
and while the earth vomits
and shingles cartwheel
around me. I doubt it

all; the conspiracy of death.
I will live to see the wasting
of my flesh; my last breath
will be in a calm season.

They will know my sins,
every betrayal; those I killed,
those whose voices begin
whisper to me until

tears come, until I pray
to slip away like night,
a frail man limping
towards morning light.

Kwame Dawes is director of the South Carolina Poetry Initiative and the University of South Carolina Arts Institute, where he also teaches as distinguished poet in residence. He also blogs for the Poetry Foundation and serves as programming director for the Calabash International Literary Festival, which takes place each May in Jamaica.

Recently, Dawes teamed up with the Pulitzer Center on Crisis Reporting to create a multimedia Web site called 'HOPE: Living and Loving with HIV in Jamaica.' The interactive site pairs his poetry with music, essays and video from people living with the disease and their caretakers.

"The Lacuna," a new novel by Barbara Kingsolver, is a sweep of history and a mix of the real and the imaginary: From the vibrant political and artistic Mexico of the 1930's -- including the historic figures muralist Diego Rivera, his wife, artist Frida Kahlo, and the exiled Soviet leader Leon Trotsky -- to post World War II America, where optimism is mixed with fears of communism and the House Un-American Activities Committee. Kingsolver is also the author of the bestseller "The Poisonwood Bible." She joined me to discuss her new work.