The government may be watching him, but Hasan Elahi is too busy watching himself to worry.

His work, at first glance, is banal -- a long scroll of mundane happenings, ordinary dinners, and other mostly mild events that make up a life. A toilet bowl, an airport dinner, a busy street -- each is captured in images sans filter. But the message he’s conveying -- that the information accrued about individuals by the FBI is massive and largely impersonal -- is a compelling one. 

For his “Tracking Transience” series, Elahi has emulated the Orwellian prospect of thorough government surveillance by capturing nearly everything he does. He’s racked up nearly 72,000 time-stamped photos of himself, each taken with his cell phone. The goal, he says, is to “flood the market with his personal information, thereby devaluing it.”  In other words, by uploading thousands of images from his private life to a public database, he believes a narrative of normalcy overwhelms any weird habits or secrets he could be hiding.

In addition to making a broader cultural statement, Elahi began the project for personal reasons. In 2002, he was reentering the country after a visit to an exhibition overseas when he was detained as a terrorist suspect. For the next six months, he was repeatedly questioned, but in the process, he learned of the details involved in keeping tabs on a suspect’s whereabouts. In retaliation, he began logging his activities excessively, posting hundreds of photos of his daily meals and happenings, and using GPS to track himself publicly.

“Back then, it was unusual to share such private details online,” Elahi told The Huffington Post. “These days, my project is almost obsolete given how many people are doing something similar and in so many different forms with so many different channels. I’m still amazed at how quickly our culture has changed.”

In 2002, when Elahi began snapping photos of his commonplace activities, his friends thought it was strange. It’s a stark contrast to how we approach self-chronicling today -- an act that’s now as ordinary as sitting down to lunch or conversing in person.

When asked whether making his private self public was ever uncomfortable, Elahi said no -- not at all. “I’m still doing the exact same things and still living my life the same way I have been all along,” he said. “It may sound counterintuitive, but by opening up my life publicly, I’ve managed to live a very anonymous and private life. I might be putting my entire life online, but given the signal-to-noise ratio, there is a great deal of digital camouflage where I’m hiding in plain sight.”

So, after over a decade of posting his happenings on the web for the world to see, Elahi is surprisingly accepting of our cultural shift towards bearing all.

His only concern is that technology changes faster than citizens -- and especially lawmakers -- are capable of keeping up with.

“The challenge is finding a common ground where the technology, culture and policy all work in sync with each other,” he says. “And unfortunately, by the time our lawmakers get around to deciding what policies to do with that tech, it’s already evolved into a whole different thing. I’m hopeful that we’ll learn to adapt and will find a common ground.”

The following photos were all taken by Elahi during a 24-hour period:

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One person gazes into a tranquil painting of water lilies by Claude Monet and can't help but well up with tears. Another, unmoved by Impressionism, stares at a bawdy self-portrait by Cindy Sherman and feels transfixed. Someone else is still bored with both, preoccupied with a bit of three-dimensional chalk art made to look like gummy bears.

You see, we humans are capable of having very, very different tastes in art.  

If you took an intro philosophy course in college, you are probably familiar with Immanuel Kant's friendly ol' theory on aesthetics. In short, the 18th-century Prussian writer thought that beauty was not a property of artwork, but rather part of a viewer's emotional response to a particular artwork. So, yeah, beauty is subjective.

But Kant also asserts that just as our idea of beauty -- or, more specifically, our judgment of taste -- is subjective, it's also universal, in so far as anyone can appreciate beauty without needing to find a use for it. At the end of the day, we all have a capacity to be moved by art, of one kind or another. Something will pique our interest, satiate our artsy appetite. It's just -- the chances are that one man's trashy art is another man's masterpiece.

Take it from researchers Edward A. Vessel, G. Gabrielle Starr and Nava Rubin. In a recent study published in the journal Frontiers in Human Neuroscience, the three explored this idea -- that while individual people have strong reactions to very different sets of images and works, the ability and desire to be aesthetically moved by art, music, or literature appears to be universal across human beings.

Curious about this apparent paradox, Vessel et al. decided to take a look inside the brain.

To do so, the team had 16 subjects (11 male, 4 female) lie in an fMRI scanner and view a selection of 109 artworks from the Catalog of Art Museum Images Online database. Looking at each artwork, the subjects were asked to answer the question, “How strongly does this painting move you?” using a scale of one to four. The subjects were told to consider their answers in terms of a "gut-level responses" in order to indicate what works they found "powerful, pleasing, or profound." After the scans, the same subjects were placed in front of a computer screen and told to complete a questionnaire that asked them address the "evaluative and emotional components of their aesthetic experience" for each of the 109 artworks. 

Not so surprisingly, at the end of the study, Vessel and the research team found that participants' formulated responses to the art that "moved" them varied greatly in intensity, characterized by everything from joy, awe and pleasure to sadness, disgust and confusion. "On average, each image highly recommended by one observer was given a low recommendation by another," they wrote.

In other words, people had very different tastes.

But in the scans, the levels of brain activation in a person experiencing a "moving" piece of work (a four) were actually quite similar. "The neural systems supporting aesthetic reactions ... are largely conserved from person to person," the trio wrote, "with the most moving artworks leading to a selective activation of central nodes of the DMN (namely, the aMPFC, but also the PCC and HC) thought to support personally relevant mentation."

Jessica Herrington digested this information in SciArt America: "The most moving artworks activated more brain regions known to play a role in computing personally relevant information, as well as evaluating aesthetic and emotional experiences. That is, people were more emotionally ‘moved’ by an artwork when they thought it was relevant to them."

Here in lies the universalness -- and the subjectivity! Our aesthetic experiences are universal, in that the brain areas activated by "moving art" are largely constant across individuals. But these areas are responsible for mediating our subjective and personal experiences. Kant was right, the two interpretations of beauty aren't mutually exclusive!

But pushing aside Kant and the nitty-gritty details of one academic study -- a study that certainly begs for more research to explain why exactly our brains can be moved by things grotesque and gorgeous -- there's one takeaway I'd hope you glean. And it appears bolded twice in this article already.

The likelihood of you and another person sharing the exact same opinions on a group of artworks is as probable as you both having the same stock of personally relevant information hidden inside your mind. More likely than not, you're going to disagree, and that's OK! Science, dear readers, says that's OK. I say that's OK.

So, the next time you stumble across a piece of art, be it a nude photograph or a splashy bit of graffiti or a confounding work of contemporary sculpture, please refrain from exclaiming, "This isn't art!" Not only are you reducing the very subjective act of judging a piece of art to a yes-or-no question, you're ignoring the incredibly complicated system of neurons and cache of personal experiences that inevitably influence your answer.

Try, before uttering the cursed phrase, to ask yourself: "Does this art move me?" And maybe that question alone will inspire you to think more deeply about your subjective and personal relationship to art.

Remember, while one piece of art is not moving you at all, it might be moving someone else, on a neurological level no less. And that's pretty wild.

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Two months after her "United We Feed" photo series went viral, photographer Caitlin Domanico is still expanding her inclusive project about the many ways parents feed their babies. Her latest initiative: a group photo that features 19 moms breastfeeding, bottle-feeding, tandem-nursing, pumping and tube-feeding.

Domanico says she was inspired by the success of her original photo series to create a group photo. "I have had such encouraging feedback -- of healing, gratitude and respect for mothers," she told The Huffington Post. "I thought it would be beautiful to bring mothers together in the same room, to photograph them together, and to celebrate all of their journeys."

The latest photo features 19 women who responded to a call for volunteers the photographer issued on her Facebook page and during a local news appearance in her native Pennsylvania. Domanico says she was pleased with the range of methods and experiences they represent. In the group photo, the moms breastfeed, pump, tube-feed, bottle-feed formula and pre-pumped milk and use donated breast milk. One set of twins tandem breastfeeds, and a lesbian couple breastfeeds their two sons side-by-side.

Domanico firmly believes in representing multiple types of feeding methods in order to prevent judgement and stereotypes. She pointedly and poetically added: 

This photo is for you, the one who thought their body failed them. The photo is for you, the one who was told to feed in the bathroom. This one is for you, the one who was ridiculed for not trying hard enough. This is for you, the one who sneaks away at work to find a private place to pump. This photo is for you, the one who did not know a thing about tube-feeding until their little one depended on it for survival. This one is for you, the mother who is up in the middle of the night again, to rock and feed their baby. This one is for you, a strong woman who is positive example to their child every single day- of how to love, how to nourish, how to cherish our most precious ones regardless of the method. This one is for you, the woman who is not afraid to love and respect other mothers' right to choose how to best feed their baby. The world is a better place because of you!

"Life is hard enough without feeling guilty, discouraged and broken when feeding doesn't go the way we planned, when a stranger makes a rude comment or when a well-meaning friend unintentionally makes her feel life a failure," she added.

On the day of the photo shoot, it surprisingly only took a few minutes to get the moms settled and capture the image, Domanico said, marveling at the positive atmosphere in the studio. "I love to see the strong bond women have with each other, when they all come together under the same pretense -- to respect one another's choice." 

Domanico hopes that this latest installment in her "United We Feed" project will touch women all over the world.  

Keep scrolling for a behind-the-scenes look at the group baby-feeding photo. 

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This doctor's creative way of fundraising for charity includes side effects ranging from smiling to feelings of cheeriness. 

Physician Adnan Khera regularly takes to the streets of Boston armed with a boombox and dances.What's more, Khera does it all in his doctor's garb. The money that he raises through his street dancing isn't for him, though, it goes to charity as part of his "DoctorBeDancing" initiative. 

Khera, whose has been breaking it down for good causes for about three months, has already raised more than $5,000 for various organizations.

The doctor explained to HuffPost that through DoctorBeDancing, he aims to prove that even a single person can make a difference in the world. 

 “I wanted to ... [show] what one individual can do for their community,” Khera, who loves to dance, told HuffPost. “Why not pursue your passions and use it in a way that betters your community?”

Khera, who has no professional dance training, told HuffPost that he boogies for charity about twice a week. He says he performs a mix of popping, hip hop, crump and house step, and it's all from the heart. 

"When I dance, I just feel the music," he told HuffPost. "Whatever my body does, it's completely natural. ... My body will move almost instinctively."

Khera explained that he donates the money to different causes, including Animal Rescue League of Boston, an animal welfare organization; Cradles to Crayons, a nonprofit that supports homeless children and kids from low-income families; and Starlight Children's Foundation, which helps children who are seriously ill and their families, according to the DoctorBeDancing website.

The experience, he says, has all0wed him to meet people from all walks of life.  

“There are all sorts of people who come and dance with me,” the doctor, who's currently an anesthesiology resident at Tufts Medical Center told CBS Boston. “Homeless people, kids, colleges, students, parents -- even if they don’t drop anything in the bucket, you know in that moment you’ve inspired someone.”

Khera told HuffPost that the idea for DoctorBeDancing actually began forming years ago. He was curious to see what it would be like to be a street performer. Because he "doesn't need the money," he wanted to add a charitable component. While street dancing may seem like a big leap from the medical profession, Khera told CBS Boston that there are values shared by both doctors and street performers. 

“Being a doctor is a lot about caring and a lot about comfort,” Khera said. “You’re basically ultimately trying to form a connection with another human being and make their life better.”

Though it's only been a few months since Khera launched DoctorBeDancing, he has big plans and hopes to dance in more areas and benefit even more charities. And maybe, he'll inspire people to get up and shake it in the process. 

"I would love to see people dancing all over the place -- playing music and having a good time." 

 To learn more about DoctorBeDancing, visit the website here. 

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Last year, Vanessa Pettit and many of her colleagues at the Guitar Center store in Independence, Missouri, declared their intention to unionize. The workers had read articles online about a labor group, the Retail, Wholesale and Department Store Union, that was organizing other Guitar Center stores in New York and Chicago. They had some meetings with the union. They wanted in.

Once workers signed union authorization cards and submitted them to management, the atmosphere in the store quickly changed, according to Pettit. With a union election now looming, the laid-back relationship they previously had with management suddenly got rigid. Supervisors no longer hung out with rank-and-file store employees outside of work the way they used to, she said. And soon, a man from Delaware started holding meetings with workers in the store.

His name was Michael Ciabattoni. A barrel-chested former Teamster turned consultant, Ciabattoni was apparently brought in to help Guitar Center combat the unionization campaign. The sort of work Ciabattoni does goes by many names. Ciabattoni himself simply calls it labor relations consulting, a way to help workers make informed decisions about unionizing. But it is sometimes euphemistically referred to as "union avoidance" work. More pejoratively, unions like to call it "union-busting."

Whatever you call it, Ciabattoni's message about unions was clear, judging from secret recordings provided to The Huffington Post.

"You get a voice, that's true," he says of unionizing in one recording. "Just not your own. You give that voice away."

"Unfortunately, nowadays, unions don’t work with companies," he says at another point. "It’s division, division, division."

Guitar Center is in the midst of an ugly battle with RWDSU, as HuffPost has previously reported. Disgruntled workers have sought out the union to help improve wages and job security at the national music equipment chain. RWDSU has successfully unionized three stores, but it has also lost two elections and pulled its petition in at least one other.

The union has accused the retailer of a raft of unfair labor practices. Last month, a regional director for the National Labor Relations Board, the agency that enforces labor law, issued a complaint against the company alleging that it had refused to bargain in good faith with the union.

The consulting work done by Ciabattoni shows just how badly the retailer wanted to snuff out RWDSU's campaign before more stores unionized.

According to Labor Department documents, Guitar Center paid $50,000 last year to a group called the Labor Relations Institute, a firm that specializes in helping companies remain "union free." As the firm's website declares, "The best defense is a powerful offense. Make your workplace impervious to union attack." The documents indicate that LRI was guaranteed half, or $25,000, of that amount. The other $25,000 would be paid out as a "bonus." That bonus was contingent on the union losing the election or withdrawing its election petition.

As other Labor Department documents show, LRI, in turn, disbursed $23,116 to Ciabattoni last year, expressly for work at Guitar Center, where his job was "to communicate to employees regarding exercising their rights to organize and bargain collectively."

"Time is of the essence in commencing work on behalf of the Company," an LRI letter to Guitar Center states. "Any delay is injurious to the Company's chances of winning the election."

These days, there is nothing unusual about a company like Guitar Center hiring consultants in hopes of persuading its workers not to unionize. But Ciabattoni's meetings with Guitar Center workers were a touch out of the ordinary, given his long and not-so-distant union past.

Ciabattoni was a Teamster for 25 years. For 17 of those years, he was an elected union officer, according to remarks he makes in the recordings. In 2012, he was accused of misusing union funds, allegations that Ciabattoni denied. The U.S. Attorney's Office in Delaware declined to pursue charges after investigating the claims. (Ciabattoni would certainly not be the first former union organizer to become a consultant on the other side; Marty Jay Levitt is a famous example.)

A Guitar Center spokeswoman said the company would not comment on the meetings with workers. When reached by phone and told someone had given HuffPost audio of his meetings, Ciabattoni said his programs were copyrighted and demanded to know who had provided the recordings. When HuffPost declined to say, Ciabattoni responded, "Do we do this the easy way, or do we do it the hard way?" HuffPost was unable to clarify what the "hard way" entails. (Ciabattoni, in a far more affable exchange later, said he could not comment for this story.)

In the audio, Ciabattoni says his primary goal is to educate the workers. He warns that the union is going to call him "every name under the sun … union-buster, the basher, the Antichrist, the devil.

“And that’s fine,” he continued. “The only thing they’re not going to be able to call me legitimately is 'liar.' I’m going to give you some information, a lot of information, actually."

Whether or not "union-buster" is a fair term, a clear anti-union message comes across in Ciabattoni's program. Unions, he claims, have deviated from their roots and no longer operate in the interest of workers. What they are after is dues money, he says. He draws on his own personal history to make his case.

"It's a shame. It's really changed, unfortunately," he says at one point. "My family, I'm a fourth-generation American, and all four generations were union members. This generation I'm not so proud of."

A common trope used in anti-union meetings is that workers don't need a "third party" such as a union. Ciabattoni frequently hits that note, describing unions as ineffective wedges that come between workers and their companies: "They [unions] prey on emotions," he says in one instance. In another instance, he says RWDSU is "a very small and a very weak organization. ... If you did your research, you probably would have chose another union." He also says union dues are "the first thing of importance to the union."

The bottom line, Ciabattoni argues, is that unions are declining for a reason. Union density in the U.S., he notes, is down to around 11 percent.

"If unions are doing everything they claim they can do for workers, and they're cashing in on all these promises, all these pie-in-the-sky guarantees they're giving, why is unionism dropping? Why is it on such a steady decline?"

One reason for that decline, among many others, may be the consulting industry that Ciabattoni is part of. Companies like Guitar Center would not pay labor relations consultants top dollar if meetings like Ciabattoni's were not generally effective. According to a 2009 study done by Cornell labor expert Kate Bronfenbrenner and published by the Economic Policy Institute, workers who sat through anti-union meetings at work were significantly more likely to vote against the union in their election.

Ciabattoni's meetings at Guitar Center were voluntary for workers. Though it has accused Guitar Center of unfair labor practices, RWDSU has not alleged that Ciabattoni ran afoul of labor law.

Pettit, the worker from Independence, came away from the whole experience believing Ciabattoni was a wise investment by Guitar Center. She didn't care for her time with the consultant -- "That's two hours of my life I'll never get back," she said -- but Ciabattoni seemed to have a strong rapport with a group of young male workers who spent hours with him over the course of days, she conceded.

Pettit describes herself as an early and adamant supporter of the union, believing that Guitar Center had squeezed its employees for too long. She believed RWDSU had a solid majority of Independence employees in its corner when they filed for recognition. But by the time the election rolled around, Ciabattoni had likely pulled at least one "yes" vote into the "no" column, Pettit said.

In the end, a single vote determined the election. According to election results certified by the labor board in October, the union lost the election by one ballot, 11-to-10.

Dispirited by the loss, Pettit said she quit her job three weeks later. She had worked at Guitar Center for nine years.

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 Read the original article on artnet News.

Rembrandt, Self-Portrait, 1659, National Gallery of Art, Washington, D.C.

If you're a selfie aficionado, you'll already know that there are selfie-enhancing apps like CamMe, Perfect365, #Selfie, Facetune, and Makeup. You can alter your eye color, narrow your face, crank up your smile, add blush, lighten your skin, and even add luscious blond locks.

But how do the classics of art historical self-portraiture benefit from a nip here, a tuck there, and a new hairdo? We submitted some of them to the Perfect365 treatment.

Rembrandt van Rijn, above, is known perhaps as much for his searching self-portraits as for his history painting and Biblical scenes. Here, he's brightened his eyes and put on a little lipstick.

Judith Leyster, Self-Portrait,;c. 1630, National Gallery of Art, Washington, D.C.

 

Rembrandt's countrywoman, Judith Leyster, was that very rare figure: a female artist in the 17th century. She was just 19 when her contemporaries started to notice her talent. She's perked up her look, which concealed her hair, with a stylish red wig that gives her a punk edge.

Parmigianino, Self-Portrait in a Convex Mirror, c. 1624, Kunsthistorisches Museum, Vienna.

Parmigianino's small Self-Portrait in a Convex Mirror may have served as a way to demonstrate his talent to potential patrons. Here, he puts his best foot forward with some striking lips and lids.

Jan van Eyck, Portrait of a Man (Self portrait?), 1433, National Gallery, London.

It's not altogether certain that this painting is a self-portrait by Jan van Eyck, but in any event, the severe-looking man staring out from this panel has softened his appearance by brightening up his eyes and adding some pink to fill out his narrow lips.

Hannah Wilke, S.O.S. Starification Object Series, 1974-82.

One of art history's great feminist artists, Hannah Wilke examined conventional ideas about beauty and femininity. In her S.o.S. Starification Series, she covered herself in vulva-shaped pieces of chewing gum, making the viewer look twice at the typical objectified female form. Here, the black-and-white image gives way to a bit more color.

Egon Schiele, Self-Portrait with Arm Twisting above Head, 1910.

Egon Schiele's self-portraits, and his portrayals of his lovers, got pretty steamy at times. Here, he spices things up a bit by adding a duckface, lipstick and blush, and a wig that bursts off the page. Hedwig would be proud.

Horace Pippin, Self-Portrait, 1944, Metropolitan Museum of Art, New York.

After sustaining an injury to his arm during World War I, untrained artist Horace Pippin took up art-making as physical therapy. In this self-portrait, one of just two that he painted, he glams it up with some pink lipstick.

Albrecht Dürer, Self-Portrait, 1500, Alte Pinakothek, Munich.

Albrecht Dürer's masterful self-portrait, marked by rich, cascading brown locks, is completely transformed with a touch of makeup and some platinum curls.

Vincent van Gogh, Self-Portrait, 1887, Art Institute of Chicago.

Vincent van Gogh's face is so colorful that we couldn't really improve on it. But he's a real rocker with these new locks.

Cindy Sherman, Untitled Film Still 21, 1978.

Cindy Sherman's Untitled Film Stills are perhaps less about self-portraiture than about how we imagine our own lives as playing out on the big screen, or about how artists can make fantasy worlds with the most modest of means, or about creating copies without originals.

But here, a bit of makeup gives this high-concept image the look of a colorized cinema classic.

Marie-Denise Villers,Young Woman Drawing, 1801, Metropolitan Museum of Art, New York.

Exhibited at the Salon of 1801, this Marie-Denise Villers painting isn't necessarily a self-portrait, and in fact was once ascribed to Jacques-Louis David. Villers was a talented student of Anne-Louis Girodet de Roucy-Trioson, who has here augmented her corkscrew blond curls with hair that, truth be told, may be a bit over the top.

Frida Kahlo, Self-Portrait with Thorn Necklace and Hummingbird, 1940, Harry Ransom Center, University of Texas, Austin.

Frida Kahlo transmuted a painful life into captivating self-portraits that are emblematic of suffering with attributes like a necklace of thorns. In this work, we've brightened things up, narrowed her face, put on some lipstick, and added a slight, knowing smile.

Yue Minjun, Self-Portrait

Chinese artist Yue Minjun's self-portraits with a raucous laugh are a parody both of Cultural Revolution-era propaganda posters and of himself. With some lipstick, a bit of eye shadow and a wig, here we've taken the self-parody one step further.

Gustave Courbet, Self-Portrait (The Desperate Man), c. 1843-45.

Artists have often used their own faces and bodies as the place to test out poses and expressions—as Cindy Sherman will tell you, the artist is the cheapest model around. In his self-portrait as a desperate man,Gustave Courbet hammed it up, tore at his hair, and sent his eyebrows to the sky. Here, sporting a smile and pretty blue eyes, he looks a lot less desperate.

Élisabeth Louise Vigée Le Brun, Self-Portrait, 1790, Uffizi Gallery.

A popular contemporary of Marie Antoinette, Élisabeth Louise Vigée Le Brun was one of the few highly sought-after female artists admitted to the Royal Academy of Painting and Sculpture, and exhibited frequently at the Salon. The artist had a very natural look in her self-portrait, so here, she's really amped up the femininity.

Carrie Mae Weems, Untitled (Woman Standing), 1990.

MacArthur grantee Carrie Mae Weems is perhaps best known for her "kitchen table" series, in which she occupies a simple domestic space, typically sporting a casual, unadorned look, sometimes accompanied by family members.

Here, she's perhaps headed out into the world, and has armored herself with a touch of lipstick and eye shadow.

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This one goes out to all the art-savvy texters of the world, looking to add some of history's finest manifestations of creative expression to their OMGs and LOLs. 

It's been over two years since the glory days of #emojiarthistory, when the art world banded together to adapt art classics into emojis using the options available. But a girl can't help but dream. What if instead of using two dancing ballerinas to signify a Diane Arbus photo, there existed a whole realm of ready-made art emojis based off the cannon of art history?

In this fantasy alternate universe, kissy faces and smiley poops would be replaced with Dali's melting clock and Botticelli's naked Venus. It would look something like this ... 

All illustrations by Priscilla Frank 

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In his new cabaret show, Evan Ruggiero plays guitar, croons pop standards and showcases the type of fancy footwork that recalls Gene Kelly and Savion Glover.

What makes all of this especially remarkable is that Ruggiero, 24, has only one leg. When he was a 19-year-old musical theater student at New Jersey's Montclair State University, Ruggiero was diagnosed with osteosarcoma, a rare bone cancer, in his right leg. Ultimately, his leg would have to be amputated below the knee, followed by 16 months of intensive chemotherapy.

Such a setback could have easily derailed the career of a less tenacious individual, but Ruggiero, who has been dancing since he was five, now incorporates the experience into his artistic narrative. His show, "The One-Legged Song and Dance Man: Volume 3," explains how he returned to tapping just 18 months after his amputation. His elaborate choreography now relies on the use of a peg leg that, he explains, is a nod to the legendary Clayton "Peg Leg" Bates, who taught himself to dance after losing a leg at age 12.

The secret to his surprising success, he says, was being a "stubborn" patient who refused to scale down his dance and theatrical studies, despite the advice of his doctor.

 "It was a real setback, but after it was all over, I said, 'You know what? I need to pick up right where I left off and continue my career,'" Ruggiero, whose one-footed tap riffs, time steps and even intricate wings have landed him on the "The Ellen DeGeneres Show" and an "American Idol" audition, told The Huffington Post. If anything, he said, life before his cancer diagnosis taught him a thing or two about resilience: "Growing up, being a guy dancer and continuing into musical theater, you definitely get bullied and made of."

The talented Ruggiero shone brightly at an Aug. 4 press preview of "The One-Legged Song and Dance Man," when he offered a smooth version of the Bill Withers classic, "Ain't No Sunshine," before an intricate tap number. He'll have a few more surprises in store when he hits the stage at New York’s 54 Below Aug. 14, including guest dancers Jackie Burns, Olivia Polci and Kyle Wilde.

Meanwhile, he’ll also debut material from a new musical he's written, "My Champagne Year," which is based on a series of emails his mother wrote while he was in the hospital battling cancer.

 Ruggiero, who wears a prosthetic leg while not on stage, has come to view his peg leg as an instrument rather than an impediment.

 “Tap dancers -- they're always calling themselves musicians, and their feet are their instrument," he said. "Specifically, [my peg leg] is my bass track.”

Noting that many audience members will never have seen a one-legged dancer before coming his show, Ruggiero says he won't shy away from the physical "vulnerability" his performance reveals because of his condition. While his perseverance is admirable, he shrugs off "role model" accolades, even though he finds them flattering.

“A lot of people have come up to me, and they always say, 'You're such a role model and an inspiration,'" he said. “I’m honored when people say that, of course, but I'm just trying to continue on with my life.”

Evan Ruggiero will perform in "The One-Legged Song and Dance Man: Volume 3" at New York's 54 Below on Aug. 14.

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The first trailer for Natalie Portman's directorial debut has arrived.

The actress wrote and directed the Hebrew-language film "A Tale of Love and Darkness," which premiered at Cannes in May. The film, based on the autobiographical novel of Israeli author Amos Oz, is set during the end of the British Mandate for Palestine around 1945 and follows a boy (Amir Tessler) and his troubled mother (Portman).

There are no English subtitles in the new trailer for the film, but the stunning photography, courtesy of cinematographer Slawomir Idziak ("Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix," "Black Hawk Down") is well worth the watch. There's also a look at Portman's powerful emotional performance, including one scene where she repeatedly slaps herself. If you want a little more context, or more to look at until "A Tale of Love and Darkness" gets a U.S. release date, Deadline has a clip with English subtitles.

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One unexpected consequence of raising little kids is the never-ending repetition of annoying kids' songs that get stuck in your head and cause you to sing things like "Zooming through the sky, Little Einsteins" when you're all alone.

In his latest "New Father Chronicles" video, dad La Guardia Cross put together a video of parents singing those irritatingly addictive songs, which have "brainwashed" them for life.  

It's a delightful medley of lines like "This is the song that never ends," "Doc McStuffins, Doc McStuffins" and "If you're happy and you know it!"

Cross' caption sums up this source of parental anguish: "These songs haunt our dreams. Help us."

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Looking for your next book club pick? Do like the president by opening up something from his summer reading list. 

According to a memo released by the White House Thursday, President Barack Obama will read the following books while on vacation in Martha's Vineyard: 

All That Is, James Salter
All The Light We Cannot See, Anthony Doerr
The Sixth Extinction, Elizabeth Kolbert
The Lowland, Jhumpa Lahiri
Between The World and Me, Ta-Nehisi Coates
Washington: A Life, Ron Chernow

Most notable on the list may be Between The World and Me, whose author often writes critically of the way Obama addresses issues of race, especially those tied to recent cases of police brutality. 

Obama left for vacation on Aug. 7, and will return to work Aug. 23.

The White House also noted that it doesn't know if Obama is reading the books in hard copy or on an e-reader.

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These two sisters have transformed the craft of origami into the art of giving.

Isabelle and Katherine Adams are the co-presidents of Paper for Water, a nonprofit that sells paper-folded ornaments to raise money to build clean water wells in impoverished countries. As of this spring, their craft has helped raise over $650,000 to drill more than 70 wells around the globe, Ken Adams, the girls’ father, told The Huffington Post in an email.

The idea to use origami for charity came about in 2011. Adams, who is half Japanese, learned the art at an early age and wanted to teach it to his daughters, now ages 9 and 11. It caught on quickly.  

“[Origami] started piling up around the house so [the girls] decided to have an event at Starbucks and sell ornaments to raise money for a water well,” Adams told HuffPost.

At the event, which took place in November 2011, the girls’ goal was to raise $500 to help partially fund a well in Ethiopia. But donations poured in and the origami ornaments sold out within one night. Just a month later, the sisters had raised over $10,000, according to Paper for Water’s website.

“It’s fun and it’s social and it’s a good way to use your brain to help other people,” Katherine told Good News Network.

The organization partners with the nonprofit Living Water International to identify where a well should be placed and which residents will help maintain it.

“And then a significant amount of health and sanitation training occurs,” Adams said. “Retraining the community and providing them with the equipment necessary to make these changes is essential.”

So far, Paper for Water has helped build wells in Kenya, Liberia, India, Ethiopia, Ghana, Mexico, Uganda, Peru and Zimbabwe. Most recently, the sisters visited a well they helped to fund on a Navajo Reservation in New Mexico, and held an origami workshop.

“If everyone in this world helps a little, it all adds up to a lot,” Isabelle told Good News Network. “Folding origami is an easy way for people of any age to help change the world.”

About 40 percent of the funds Paper for Water raises comes in exchange for origami ornaments, with the rest coming from outside partners and matching donors. To make a donation or get involved, check out the group’s website.

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A performance artist and professor in Perth, Australia, always has something up his sleeve: An ear.

For the last nine years, the artist known only as Stelarc has been growing a third ear on his left arm, all in the name of art.

"As a performance artist I am particularly interested in that idea of the post-human, that idea of the cyborg," he said, according to CNN. "What it means to be human will not be determined any longer merely by your biological structure but perhaps also determined largely by all of the technology that's plugged or inserted into you."

Stelarc, who was born Stelios Arcadiou but changed his name 45 years ago, first thought about getting an extra ear in 1996. However, he couldn't find any surgeons willing to hear him out until 2006.

The extra ear was made from a scaffold of biocompatible material commonly used in plastic surgery. Stelarc originally thought of putting it behind one of his real ears, but chose to have it transplanted in the arm where the skin could stretch without requiring the prosthetic to be inflated, according to his website. 

Stelarc's own tissue and blood vessels developed around the ear scaffold within six months. He says the arm ear is now permanently part of his body.

The next step he said is to make the ear look more realistic by making a lobe from his stem cells. Then Stelarc wants to embed a miniature microphone that would be connected to the Internet, ABC.net.au reports.

"This ear is not for me, I've got two good ears to hear with. This ear is a remote listening device for people in other places," he told the network. "They'll be able to follow a conversation or hear the sounds of a concert, wherever I am, wherever you are. People will be able to track, through a GPS as well, where the ear is." 

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Bleachers. Pebbles. Tiles. Wood. From close up, these disparate materials seem to have little in common. But zoom out a bit, and watch as uniform chairs and wooden planks change from recognizable objects to dizzying, abstract tapestries. 

Texture is everywhere. Unfortunately, the mundane and overwhelming tasks of daily life often prevent us from savoring the uncanny way a plastic lounge chair morphs into a three-dimensional, neon green maze. Luckily, we have photographers to reveal the beauty of what so often goes unnoticed. This week, we challenged readers to send us their best texture-centric photos, and the results do not disappoint. 

See some of our favorites below. Be warned, attempting to touch your computer will only lead to a dirty screen.

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Jeff Koons, Balloon Dog (Orange) (1994-2000). Photo Credit: Indechs.

Read the original article on artnet News. 

TOP TEN ARTISTS BY LOT 2005-2015

Our series of most expensive living artists continues with the Americans. Though our list from this past year, which was also drawn from the artnet Price Database, looked at auctions as far back as 1988, this year's list is limited to the past ten years. Nonetheless, the lists are comparable because most of the auction highs that determine the artists' placement on them have happened just in the past few years. And as you might expect, there hasn't been all that much movement.

Koons remains high on the list, and on our radar, having had his 2014 blockbuster retrospective close out the old Whitney Museum building. Perennial favorites Jasper Johns and Ed Ruscha still hover at the top. 2015 sees Cady Noland move up several spots and another artist join the list anew. Due to the re-structuring of our parameters, Bruce Nauman is notably absent this year—his record at auction was achieved in 2001 with the sale of Henry Moore bound to fail (Back view) (1967), which sold for $9.9 million at Christie's. (All sales are at New York auction houses unless otherwise noted.) With plans for his MoMA retrospective announced for 2018, he might be back on in the coming years.

 

Jeff Koons, Jim Beam—J. B. Turner Train (1986). Photo courtesy of Whitney Musum © Jeff Koons

1. Jeff Koons

Jeff Koons tops our list again this year, and his high will likely be tough to beat even in the next few years. Koons's kitschy Balloon Dog (Orange) (1994-2000) sold for a staggering $58.4 million at Christie's in 2013. In addition to having the largest sale during this period, Koons is also the most popular: eleven works from the Pop art prince were among the top twenty lots sold during this time period.

Jasper Johns, Flag (1955).

2. Jasper Johns

Johns's paintings of unfettered Americana have proven popular with collectors. His Flag (1983) fetched $36 million at Sotheby's New York this past November, keeping him in the upper echelon of expensive American artists at auction.

Ed Ruscha, Smash (1963). Photo courtesy of Christie's.

3. Ed Ruscha

Ruscha lands in the third spot on our list with a $30 million sale of his text painting Smash (1963) at Christie's in November this past year proving that the artist's Pop art style is continually in-demand.

Christopher Wool, Untitled (Riot) (1990). Photo courtesy of Sotheby's.

4. Christopher Wool

Wool may have slipped down a spot from last year, but his presence on our list shows his selling power hasn't lost any strength. Untitled (Riot)(1990) sold for $29.9 million at Sotheby's in May, blasting past its $18 million high estimate—and close to $3.4 million more than his previous record for Apocalypse Now (1988), which sold for $26.5 million at Christie's in 2013.

Robert Ryman, Bridge (1980). Photo courtesy of Widewalls.

5. Robert Ryman

Ryman moves up one place from last year with the sale of his 1980 painting Bridge for $20.6 million at Christie's in May. A Sotheby's sale ofUntitled (1961) for roughly $15 million in November, along with a sale ofLink (2002) for about $11.4 million at Christie's New York that same month, proves his work has been a recent force at auction.

Brice Marden, Blue Horizontal (1986-87). Photo courtesy of Christie's/
© 2015 Brice Marden / Artists Rights Society (ARS), New York

6. Brice Marden

Although his painting The Attended (1996-99) is still his highest sale during this period ($10.9 million at Sotheby's in November 2013), Brice Marden also had sales in May of Blue Horizontal (1986-87) for $10.3 million at Christie's and Elements (Hydra) for $9.2 million at Phillips, and a 2010 sale of Cold Mountain I (Path) (1988-89) for $9.6 million at Sotheby's.

Cady Noland, Bluewald (1989). Photo courtesy of the Southbank Centre.

7. Cady Noland

The sale of Bluewald (1989) in May at Christie's for $9.8 million pushed Noland into our seventh spot, up from the last spot previously. The work fetched $3.2 million more than was paid for Oozewald (1989), which held Noland's prior record when it sold in 2011 at Sotheby's for roughly $6.6 million.

Richard Prince, Nurse of Greenmeadow (2002). Photo courtesy of Phaidon.

8. Richard Prince

Serial appropriator Richard Prince falls one spot on our list, yet his painting Nurse of Greenmeadow (2002) marks a new record for the artist at auction. It sold for $8.6 million at Christie's this past May.

David Hammons, Untitled (2000).

9. David Hammons

Hammons stays on our list of the most expensive living American artists at auction with his sculpture Untitled (2000), which sold for $8 million at Phillips in November 2013.

Cindy Sherman, Untitled Film Still #17 (1978). Photo courtesy of The New York Times/Cindy Sherman and Metro Pictures.

10. Cindy Sherman

Sherman breaks into our top ten with the November 2014 sale of a lot that included 21 her Untitled Film Stills (1977). These early photographs sold for $6.7 million at Christie's. The works, which were initially put together by curator Ydessa Hendeles, were sold from the collection of Mitchell and Emily Rales to raise funds for the expansion of their private museum, Glenstone, in Potomac, Maryland.

 

TOP TEN ARTISTS BY VALUE 2005-2015

While Koons has had the highest sale at auction looking at individual lots, he also tops our list of artists by value over the same period. The artists listed below have the highest aggregated sales over the past ten years, demonstrating a sustained presence at auction.

1. Jeff Koons                $646,151,557
2. Christopher Wool      $343,764,142
3. Richard Prince          $316,564,227
4. Ed Ruscha                 $230,645,436
5. Jasper Johns             $185,430,519
6. Wayne Thiebaud        $163,584,836
7. Robert Ryman           $139,923,825
8. Frank Stella               $139,517,394
9. Robert Indiana          $118,074,640
10. Cindy Sherman        $106,562,956

 artnet Market Watch is pleased to offer a complimentary Living American Artists Market Watch Report. To learn more about the auction market for living American artists, download the report here. Contactmarketwatch@artnet.com to learn more about custom reports and analytics about the art auction market.

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In 2014, two multistory human figures could be seen rising from the desert in Nevada, locking arms and eyes in a close embrace. From a distance, their sandy skin made it seem as though they’d risen from the ground, benevolent Titans watching over those who paid them a visit.

A closer look revealed that they were made of wood, part of an art project erected for Burning Man. Fans of the gathering -- burners -- could climb inside the figures and gaze upon its peak-ceilinged cathedrals. Once Burning Man concluded, the work was lit ablaze, along with the rest of the large-scale sculptures created that year.

Photographer NK Guy has been capturing the artworks built for Burning Man on camera for over a decade, recently anthologized his findings in a new book, Art of Burning Man. In it, he pays poetic homage to the way the sun rises over the event's central sculpture in the mornings, and the glow of LED lights and lasers after sunset. He emphasizes the structures' ability to bring people together from all walks of life -- accomplishing, according to Guy, the feelings of connection that art should achieve, but so often fails to inside of a museum.  

A celebration of Burning Man, but also an explanation for those unacquainted, the book explains the origin of the temple-like artworks that crop up on the playa each year.

Artist Jack Haye conceived and led the construction of Burning Man’s first temple, "The Temple of the Mind," in 2000. Initially a cryptic title for an intentionally nondescript structure, the work took on a new meaning when one of the men who helped build it died in a motorcycle accident while returning from a day’s work on the piece. "The Temple of the Mind" became a memorial for the lost worker, and, over the course of the festival, a place where attendees could share their stories of loss. Guy described it as, “an epicenter for community emotion,” describing the simultaneously vague and powerfully emotive forces that emphatic fans of the festival enjoy.

Every year, Burning Man employs a theme for its artworks. Once year it  was Shakespeare’s monologue from “As You Like It,” beginning with “All the world’s a stage.” In 2014, the year that the embracing plywood couple hit the desert, the theme was Caravansary, referring to the sanctuaries that cropped up along the Silk Road. And, this year’s theme, Carnival of Mirrors, centers on masks and disguises. Of course, not all works stick to the year’s theme: 2015 will boast a typewriter so huge that attendees can climb on top of it.

In the book's introduction, Guy notes that the impermanence of many of the structures built over the years has a payoff for many creators: though most of the works burn at the conclusion of the festival, they actively engage a community rather than sitting stiffly on shelves or walls. He writes, "When you’re an artist, you’re always told that your work is going to survive, that it’s going to last forever. And then one day you realize that it’s not." On the other hand, he believes works that embrace this transience and make the most of their short lives can be fulfilling. 

Guy emphasizes this theme of community throughout the works he highlights in his book. The transient nature of the structures, and the communities that swirl in and out of them, often lend them a spiritual air -- which is why many of the large-scale works are referred to as Temples. These sites may be places to mourn, but also to meditate, to create, and to reflect. They're multipurpose, nondiscriminatory, and can't be bought or sold -- instead, of course, they're burned. 

Overall, a Burning Man temple should be an oasis that welcomes everyone -- a blank slate where attendees can leave their mark. Building a structure that aims to have no inherent meaning presents a real challenge. In some cases, artists construct a mash-up of popular religious iconography, not valuing any single culture more than another. But in the most powerful works, the desert skyline is pierced by an image of a single, towering individual -- or better yet, two people sharing a warm embrace.

Check out more of NK Guy’s photos of the most remarkable art from Burning Man:

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Meet The Kids And Families Who Vacation At Burning Man

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Actress Uzo Aduba can't pick a favorite "Orange is the New Black" character -- and there's damn good reason why.

"I'm not even trying to be dodgy on this," she told HuffPost Live host Alyona Minkovski on Wednesday. "I like all of them. ... All of the characters are so grossly different from the last. What I love about Gloria is so different from what I love about Morello. What I love about Big Boo is so different from what I love about Pennsatucky or Nicki Nichols or Piper or Red." 

What I'm attracted to about the show is how I'm seeing so many different types of women be able to stand as individuals and have specificity to their dimension that make[s] them outstanding, rather than just sort of common and flat.

Watch the full HuffPost Live conversation with actress Uzo Aduba here.

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There are two books left in George R.R. Martin's A Song of Ice and Fire book series, and probably three more seasons left of HBO's "Game of Thrones," which is based on the books. But the question everyone is asking (besides whether or not Jon Snow is dead for good) is how the series will end.

In a recent interview with the New York Observer, Martin said that he has yet to write the ending of the books (he still has to finish The Winds of Winter, after all). Since Martin is known to be quite the killing machine with his characters, fans are concerned that things will only get more grim as the book series nears its end. But don't worry: He doesn't plan to finish his series with total annihilation and destruction. "I've said before that the tone of the ending that I’m going for is bittersweet," Martin told the Observer. The author is also looking to The Lord of the Rings for inspiration. "I mean, it’s no secret that Tolkien has been a huge influence on me, and I love the way he ended Lord of the Rings. It ends with victory, but it’s a bittersweet victory," he said.

Whether or not this bittersweetness will influence the HBO series finale is unknown. Showrunners Dan Weiss and David Benioff will likely conclude the series before Martin publishes his final book. While speaking at the Oxford Union earlier this year, Benioff said, "We’ll eventually, basically, meet up at pretty much the same place where George is going." Sadly, that means HBO will spoil the books for fans. 

For the full interview, head to the New York Observer.

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Whit Stillman was selling Spanish films to U.S. television before he wrote "Metropolitan," the 1990 comedy of manners that became a runaway hit. He faced an uphill battle to find financial support for the film, which revolves around a Princeton student who dubiously gets caught up in a snobby Manhattan debutante circle while home from college during his first winter break. But Stillman's acclaim was instant. The movie premiered to raves at the Sundance Film Festival, earned an Oscar nomination for Best Original Screenplay and cemented the director's stature.

With notes of inspiration from the likes of Jane Austen and Woody Allen, "Metropolitan" became a bastion of the indie-film movement that bubbled up in the early 1990s. Even though Stillman has only made a few projects since ("Barcelona," "The Last Days of Disco," the Amazon pilot "The Cosmopolitans"), he is often listed among the modern greats. Twenty-five years later, Rialto Pictures is re-releasing the film in theaters. In conjunction, The Huffington Post asked Stillman to reflect on its legacy. 

Did "Metropolitan" start as the story about a tight-knit inner circle or a story about the outsider who infiltrates it?

It started as a story of the circle. The idea was, what film could be essentially shot in a room and still be worth watching?

How did you land on this particular group of people?

It was helped by the fact that I myself fell into a similar sort of group. I was coming from further west enough -- from the West side, from Madison Avenue, and they were on Park Avenue. It seemed big at the time. A lot of the dynamics are things I was familiar with.

How intentional were you about making this a satirical look at people who sort of have it all?

Well, I don’t think they do. I don’t think that’s their perspective, and our point of view in the film is not satirical. So people can bring that point of view to the film -- it allows that, but it wasn’t my point of view. I like things that are sort of comic and humorous rather than satirical. I do think there are a lot of things about people from this background that are problematic, and they talk about that and are sort of aware of it. It’s different paths people have where they have a little too much money to take the chance to succeed in a normal way. The Taylor Nichols character, Charlie Black, talks about all these things, and then the temptation of someone to get hitched to someone very wealthy is a point we worked through, which is very often problematic. I think there are a lot of real problems people from that sort of background can face, but as the older character in the bar says, there are other individual people who fall in that trap and some get beyond it.

As you were writing, how did Tom develop? When we meet him, we assume his way of thinking will make him the hero, so to speak, until he says, "You don't have to read a book to have an opinion on it." It shatters a lot of what you think he's going to stand for in relation to this group of people he meets. 

You’re absolutely right and that’s a really good point. It started out with the idea that he was a more conventional hero, and then I saw this situation he was in, where there’s this certain girl he was ignoring who liked him, and he was obsessed with the cliché attractive girl who maybe wasn’t as interesting as the next girl. So his situation wasn’t very admirable or sympathetic, particularly. I started thinking maybe it should be a film about Audrey [Rouget, played by Carolyn Farina]. And then the two other male characters become pretty important -- the Charlie Black character, who has all the sociological queries, and then the Nick Smith [Chris Eigeman] dynamic became really big, too. So I couldn’t really turn it into Audrey’s film, but I consciously tried to make it about her and her situation. The first two shots are really about her, and then we get into Tom Townsend [Edward Clements]. A lot of that is making fun of myself in that period and in the present because there are a lot of authors I tend to prefer reading about critically than actually reading their work. I love a good essay on how great Dickens’ characters are, but I probably enjoy reading that essay more than I do reading David Copperfield. It’s sort of making fun of myself, but it’s pretty gentle stuff.

Is Tom a direct analogue of you?

I guess he’s sort of what I felt I was going through then. It’s a version of it.

The title card says "not so long ago," but it's clear that "urban haute bourgeoise" culture transitions into hippie culture as the movie progresses. What was it that you pinpointed about why these kids felt so uneasy with that changing social climate? They live a life of luxury, so it can appear they have nothing to fret over.

I was sort of familiar with that transitional period. I first saw my sister, who is a little more than three years older -- I saw some of her social life and how the world was in her day. This is pre-Woodstock. I think it’s the dynamic of rejection of your family environment. That’s a big dynamic, so I think that by having it so marginalized, it became an affirmative thing where people were affirming they liked something. They couldn’t pretend they were doing it because their parents wanted them to do it, because their parents wouldn’t care very much. The Tom Townsends can’t keep that act up of being at the parties but against them. There were a lot of people doing that act. 

This movie was made with such limited resources, right as independent film was booming in the late '80s and early '90s. Given there are no big-name stars attached, how difficult was getting it made?

It came at a very good period in the ‘80s. It seemed people were eager to make films for limited releases. I knew enough about big business to know that no one would be interested in my movie before it was made, and they weren’t very interested after it was made, either. I just wanted to get the funds to get the movie seen. 

Did you take meetings with studios first?

Yeah, we were rejected by absolutely everything. We did the thing of showing it to people on our own, not in an audience setting. Some would screen it in a feature market and like it, but then they’d take it back to show to their bosses and all the results were negative. As far as financing the film, since I knew that no one would back it commercially, I knew it had to be friend money or family money. I knew from selling Spanish films that they had been able to make films for $50,000. So I started writing the “Metropolitan” script precisely with the idea that I could film it for $50,000. I got it by selling my apartment. So I ended up without an apartment, which I still don’t have, but I was able to start the shoot. We were able to cobble together enough money to get it to the Sundance Lab, but we didn’t have enough money to get out of the lab. The money guy from the film labs was very, very tough and we were really fortunate that he happened to be either on vacation or sick, and we needed to get the print out to show it to Sundance. We raised $210,000 to invest in the film, and that was the total amount we had. We didn’t get U.S. theatrical distribution until we screened it for the press at the New Directors series at MoMA, which is a very high-risk strategy. Another film that screened there got a bad reaction from the Times and was never distributed.

Was this a hard script to show off to people because the dialogue is so talky and idiosyncratic? 

I didn’t even show the script to investor types because I knew it was a lost cause. In fact, even nonprofit places like the Tisch School, I didn’t want to use. The woman there wouldn’t help us because she said I didn’t format the margins of the dialogue in the right way. She said we weren’t professional and we weren’t serious and she wouldn’t tell the acting students about our film because of that. People were pretty superficial, but I guess we weren’t very professional. It was only after the film was completed that we got people in to see it who were interested. There were people who were nice about it, but no one was offering money for the film until it screened for the New York critics. 

Were you concerned people might not understand the script? The dialogue is what makes the movie, but I can see where it would be hard to conceptualize without the camera bringing it to life.

It’s funny you say that. I love what John Thomas did with the cinematography and the look we have. But it actually did read pretty well to normal people. To people outside the business, it was a good read because there’s just tons of dialogue. It’s actually, I think, a good script as a document to get people interested and enthusiastic, except if they were film types or screenwriter types and they had all the rules. All these insider types were scathingly negative about the script because we had one five-page monologue. But that five-page monologue was ultimately one of the best scenes in the film -- it was Chris Eigeman as Nick Smith talking about Polly Perkins.

"Metropolitan" might be more at home if it were released today, when stories about struggling with growing up are routine. Judd Apatow and Noah Baumbach have made a lot of movies about that, for example. What do you think is today's "Metropolitan"?

Gosh, I don’t know. Boy, you really stumped me there. I really like the short stories that Melissa Bank writes. I think she’s sort of channeling the female version of J.D. Salinger in more recent days. But in film, there are a lot of things I like. I really like the indie films that are being made now. The comedies seem very close to what was happening in the ‘80s, and I think it’s a very good moment for indie film in that small-comedy dimension. But I couldn’t say what the great “Metropolitan” analogue today would be.

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