EXUBERANTLY, EXTRAVAGANTLY, JUBILANTLY PHYSICAL with a soupçon of the metaphysical — enough to give your thinky bits something to do, but not enough to wear them out — this fall’s Zenon concert was exemplary, the Twin Cities’ top modern dance company at its best. At its heart, what Zenon Dance Company offers (in buckets) is the dancer as dream-self, leaping into life with all the passion we hope we have in…

WHEN ARTISTS DREAM OF SUCCESS, they probably dream of showing at the Walker, the Met, the Tate, Musée National d’Art Moderne — not the java joint down the street. But on the road to the big-time, those little coffeehouse shows can be important stops along the way, providing a safe platform for artists to practice the tricks of their trade: how to produce enough work for a show, create a cohesive…

ONE OF OUR FIRST GLIMPSES OF EMILY JOHNSON, choreographer and co-creator of the luminous new performance piece, The Thank-You Bar, is on video. She’s lovely and engaging, even if the words of the story she’s telling come not out of her mouth, but from the remove of pre-recorded narration (emanating from a tape recorder tucked in her shirt), and through her facial expressions. Johnson light-heartedly…

WHAT DO BEING A PRIEST AND WRITING A NOVEL HAVE IN COMMON?  I have been pondering this question ever since reading the book, Vestments,and talking with its author, first-time novelist John Reimringer.  Vestments, which was published recently by Milkweed Editions, is a realistic novel about a young priest from St. Paul who struggles to maintain his vow of celibacy in the face of his growing desire for a…

JAKE YUZNA WAS STUDYING FILMMAKING AT MCAD and working at the late Panorama Video when the idea came to him for OPEN. As the assistant director of the Flaming Film Festival, housed out of Intermedia Arts, he met transmen who were directing films — porn, in particular. It got him thinking, “What would happen if a transman were to date a gay man, and then get pregnant? Would such a thing entail being both…

I THINK I AM A PRETTY NICE GUY. I prefer not to offer my opinion on many things, and I would rather not say much that’s too critical. Actually, that is not so much a matter of my niceness as it is my indifference. If you want to listen to crap, go ahead — I don’t care. Frankly, I don’t always spend my own down-time on great novels, meticulously made fresh food, and challenging, beautifully shot cinema…

IF YOU COULD TUNE INTO WILL DINSKI’S GRAPHIC NOVEL FINGERPRINTS, flipping the cable channels, sinking into an immense leather chaise with your incipient gut released from the confines of belt and trouser snap, you’d start with a closeup of a famed Hollywood director. His name is flagrantly unimportant. So, forget about him — the director merely conveys content. It is the actorwho enraptures and entices…

I AM BEGINNING TO SEE THE FUTURE OF MINNEAPOLIS AND ST. PAUL, and it won’t be one in which everybody is famous for 15 minutes. No, it will be one in which everyone, sooner or later, organizes a film festival. We’re not far from that now, as every weekend seems to bring some sort of special screenings or another, from the ongoing film series at the Walker and the Trylon Microcinema to one-offs by local…

IN HIS EIGHTIES, TERRENCE WILLIAMS IS CASUALLY DAPPER in a tweed sports coat, pressed jeans, horn-rimmed glasses, and New Balance sneakers. One can often find him at the Walker Art Center, where he’s a volunteer tour guide and dedicated patron. I’ve always known Williams to exhibit a gentle, unassuming demeanor; it was only after a recent conversation with him that I began to appreciate the…