BY JAHI CHIKWENDIU — THE WASHINGTON POST

John Madden’s latest work, “Proof,” stays faithfulto the version he directed onstage in London.

By Peter Marks

Washington Post Staff Writer

First of all, he’s not that John Madden. As a resultof the elegant insights he offers about his line of work— not to mention the locutions refined at Cambridge— you are immediately aware that this is not the guyyou turn to for an assessment of the Cincinnati Ben-gals’ new place kicker, or for an opinion on whetherAce (as in Hardware) really is the place.

He seems quite content to be the other John Mad-den. The bloke who directs movies for the thinkingperson.

Know who he is now? No? If one were to refer to“Mrs. Brown” — the warmly evocative period filmwith Judi Dench as a grieving Queen Victoria —would that bring a specific person to mind? Or theaustere “Ethan Frome” (1993) with Liam Neeson?Still no?

Hope Davis, who appears in his new film, “Proof”— the screen adaptation of the hit Broadway playabout a young woman’s fear that she’s inherited herfather’s madness on top of his genius for math — getsthe same sort of blank stares when she mentions him.

See MADDEN, C5, Col. 1

A Name You Always Never KnewThis John Madden Is About Brainy Flicks, Not Football

DAILY 09-24-05 MD RE C1 CMYK

ABCDE ][

Style CThe Arts

TelevisionComics

Saturday, September 24, 2005 R

Inside

2 Design: The root of carpet cultures

3 Names & Faces: Cheney to have surgery

5 Couple to give $10 million to the NSO

5 Music: Ian Bostridge sings Schubert

By Linton Weeks

Washington Post Staff Writer

Fun? Stare at the word long enough and it beginsto look weird, like a nonsense word. Fun. Fun. Fun.

Listen to the professional golfers talk about“fun” at the Presidents Cup and the same thinghappens.

“It’s a fun competition,” Davis Love III tells re-porters of the contest between 12 Americans and12 internationals.

“It’s going to be fun,” Fred Couples echoes. “We’re going to have a lot of fun,” says the U.S.

captain, Jack Nicklaus. “It’s going to be a fun week,” Australian Mark

Hensby says. “I think it’s going to be fun.”Yeah. We get it already. The Presidents Cup,

which ends tomorrow, is supposed to be enjoyableand relaxed. And, superficially, it does appear to bea more laid-back contest than the biannual RyderCup or the grueling week-in, week-out ProfessionalGolf Association tournaments.

With its smiley-face atmosphere, the Presidents

BY JOHN MCDONNELL — THE WASHINGTON POST

U.S. players Jim Furyk, left, and Tiger Woods weartheir game faces during the Presidents Cupcompetition yesterday in Manassas.

SeriousnessIs Par forThis CourseAt Presidents Cup, Fun IsA Concept That’s Played Out

See GOLF, C8, Col. 1

By Paul Farhi

Washington Post Staff Writer

The news menu was stuffed with the dreadfuland appalling yesterday. A massive hurricanebearing down on Texas. A bus fire killing 24 elder-ly people near Dallas. Floods ravaging New Or-leans — again. And that was before you even con-sidered what’s happening to the economy, or inIraq or Afghanistan, or anywhere else in this sad,wicked world.

You see any happy news out there?As it happens, the people who produce Happy-

news.com did. There it was, right at the top oftheir Web site, bordered by a sunny yellow frameand adorned with smiley faces: “Hurricane Ritastill weakening.”

And: “Majority to back Algerian peace plan.”And: “Indonesia takes steps to prevent bird

flu.”Happynews.com, started three months ago,

Happynews.com,Where the BeatIs Always Up

See HAPPYNEWS, C10, Col. 1

By Tom Shales

Washington Post Staff Writer

“Martha Behind Bars” — does anyone reallywonder which “Martha” that’s bound tobe? — is not only a disappointment but

something of a cheat. By rough calculation, Martha’sonly behind bars for 30 minutes of the picture, whichis but a third of it with commercial time subtracted.

Compared with that depressing statistic, it’s only aminor discrepancy that there are, in fact, no bars. Notso’s you’d notice. Inmates, all women, at the AldersonFederal Prison Camp to which Martha Stewart is sen-tenced for five months, occupy less formal sorts ofcells. They’re cinderblock cubicles, really, without big

clanging doors. Stewart’s even has a window with apleasant view of the world outside.

The film, CBS’s Sunday night movie at 9 on Chan-nel 9, is a virtual but not official sequel. “Martha, Inc.:The Story of Martha Stewart,” which covered Stew-art’s rise to prominence as America’s scrappiest hap-py homemaker — and also benefited greatly fromhaving Cybill Shepherd in the lead role — aired onNBC in May 2003. Since then, of course, Stewart’simmaculately configured and tastefully appointedworld came tumbling down, Stewart having beenfound guilty of obstruction and other charges relatedto an insider trading scandal.

BY BEN MARK HOLZBERG — CBS

Cybill Shepherd puts some elbow grease into herportrayal of the imprisoned Martha Stewart.

See TV PREVIEWS, C4, Col. 1

THE NEW SEASON TV Previews

‘Martha Behind Bars’: The JailbirdWho Famously Feathered Her Nest

By Blake Gopnik

Washington Post Staff Writer

Some museum exhibitions put updisclaimers about sex. Others warnabout violence in their art. The im-pressive Andy Warhol show thatopens today at the Corcoran Gal-

lery of Art ought to begin with a big signthat reads something like this: “The follow-ing exhibition may cause depression or anxi-ety in visitors — viewer discretion advised.”

For all the bubble gum colors and crispcommercial graphics in much of Warhol’sart, its larger vision is profoundly grim. It’sthat austere underpinning to the Warholglitz that gives this exhibition so muchweight and depth.

People talk about Warhol’s art as ironic,or cynical or maybe as satirical — all ofwhich implies a certain good humor, or atleast a distance from the things it talksabout. I think his project goes much further

Art

The Down Side of Pop

THE ANDY WARHOL MUSEUM, PITTSBURGH, FOUNDING COLLECTION

“Dollar Sign” (1981): Most of the 150 works in the exhibition point up a decayed consumer culture.

“Silver Liz” (1963) from “Warhol Legacy:Selections From the Andy Warhol Museum.”

At the Corcoran Gallery,Andy Warhol’s CommentOn a Sold-Out Society

See ART, C2, Col. 1

K ALSO PREVIEWED: “Extras” provides funny background about moviemaking. | C4

By Bob Thompson

Washington Post Staff Writer

The Oprah Lottery of Fame and Fortune is back inbusiness.

“The first thing I said was, ‘Oh my God,’ ” saidJames Frey, author of “A Million Little Pieces,” whenOprah Winfrey came on the speakerphone last monthto give him a heads-up that his addiction-and-rehabmemoir would be her book club’s next selection. “Thesecond, third, fourth and fifth things were, ‘Thankyou, thank you, thank you and thank you.’ ”

Small wonder the man was grateful. A blessingfrom the Wizard of O means hundreds of thousands,at least, in additional sales. Winfrey’s announcementpromptly drove “A Million Little Pieces” to No. 1 atAmazon.com.

So long, William Faulkner, it’s been nice knowingyou.

In 2003, Winfrey began featuring the works of au-thors such as Faulkner, Leo Tolstoy, Alan Paton and

Oprah’s Imprint onOne Man’s Memoir

See OPRAH, C4, Col. 3

DAILY 09-24-05 MD RE C2 CMYK

C2 Saturday, September 24, 2005 R The Washington PostDesign

By Linda Hales

Washington Post Staff Writer

Somewhere past Tehran, beyondthe void known as the Great SaltDesert, Brian Murphy arrived ata field of wild madder.

He had been tracking the history ofPersian carpets since 1999, betweenassignments in Iran and Afghanistan forthe Associated Press. His vivid memoir,“The Root of Wild Madder” (Simon &Schuster), tells of visits to bazaars,readings of the mystical poet Hafez andarduous treks, all of which failed toexplain the swirling patterns andcomplex colors that village womenweave and elite museums collect.

He hoped the madder plant, a dyesource known to botanists as Rubiatinctorum, would unlock the ancientmysteries of rugs, and by extension,illuminate cultures known the worldover for their brilliant craft.

“Carpets offer a continuity betweennow and the past,” Murphy said recentlyby phone from his home in Greece.

His book is a travelogue in the best19th-century tradition. With madder asgrail, Murphy set out to get to thebottom of a Turkmen folk saying:“Carpets are our soul.” He made 25 tripsin five years, to Mashad, Herat, Badghisprovince, Mazar-e Sharif and otherlocales in Afghanistan and Iran, where

rugs are still hand-made. Readers aretreated to a precarious ride through themountains in blinding sleet. Murphysips tea with a warlord and trades cigarsfor a meal of pilau. He also flies to NewYork, so a Fifth Avenue dealer can unrolla stunning Heriz silk carpet, for which aWall Street trader is said to have paid$80,000 in 2004.

Madder was seductive. It grows fromroots the color of blood, which werepounded for centuries into a dye potentenough to color wool and bones.Synthetic dyes long ago proved moreefficient, so Murphy was delighted tofind a field of madder in a remote region,and a massive stone grinding wheel thatcrushed the roots into paprika-coloreddust. Madder dye can produce a range ofhues from orange to purple, all of whichmellow over the years into a pointillistpalette that modern collectors covet.Synthetics always seemed garish bycomparison.

The struggling dyemaker hadmodernized his equipment, tradingcamel power for a tire linked to a motor.The author acquired a few brownish-redroots as souvenirs, and blood-redcreases in the palm of his hand, but noepiphany.

Only much later would Murphyencounter a young singer and weavernamed Zeynep, from the nomadicQashqa’i tribe. She came as close as

anyone to explaining the riffs of knots.In her hands, shapes and colors were notrandom twists of wool, but memoriesbeing recorded — a bird she saw as achild or the color of a mountain sheknew.

“It’s an inner song,” she told Murphy. There is mystical clarity in her

explanation that the rug he sees willnever be the one she made.

“The Root of Wild Madder” givesminor roles to Genghis Khan, thedisastrous British retreat over the

Khyber Pass, the Iranian revolution, theTaliban and Pentagon-sponsoredflyovers. But carpets — rolled, stacked,dusty, sand-caked, sun-bleached orsilken — are the stars in this drama.

Journalistically, investigating carpetsproved helpful. Tracing the origins of adwindling craft opened avenues into theeconomics, culture and social dynamicsof the region. The journey alsointroduced Murphy to a world of people“beyond the talking heads and dissidentswe all have to cover,” he admits.

Three stories stand out. InAfghanistan’s Turkmen belt, he met afamily of Saryk rugmakers. In 2003, a19th-century Saryk carpet sold atSotheby’s for $24,000, a staggering sumin the bleak province of Badghis, wheretwo sisters and a cousin worked at aloom that covered an entire room. Theywere making a dowry for the eldest girl,whose weaving skills enhanced her

prospects for marriage.Rugs are now made forincome. But Murphy,who had been seekingunderstanding of theirmystical and spiritualdimension, askedwhether the girlsbelieved carpets had asacred aspect.

“There are times whenI finish a difficult borderor gul and must stop justto look at it,” Asli, the

eldest, replied from the floor. “It is like asmall world all alone and separate:perfect and peaceful. God must beguiding our hands, I think. This is howhe gets us to look beyond this world.”

During a sandstorm, a man namedRahmin sheltered Murphy under acarpet his grandmother had made.Rahmin told of whispering into thecarpet after her death, believing hisgrandmother could hear. To him, carpetscontained lives. And yet, when theopportunity arose, minutes later, tobarter the rug for food, he tried.

“You cannot eat memories or stories,”he told Murphy, “no matter how sweet.”

On a trip to Iran, Murphy received thegift of a small, unremarkable carpet froma grieving mother. Her son had beenkilled in a minefield while trying toreach the European Union. He got as faras the border between Turkey andGreece. She was weaving the rug whenhe left and thinking of him constantly,she said. Murphy took it home with himto complete the son’s journey.

“Maybe something of my son is stillalive in his carpet,” she said. “If it makesthe journey, maybe he will restpeacefully.”

Murphy is now the AP’s internationalreligion writer. His collection of 40carpets, kilim and other textiles remindshim daily of the anonymous artistry ofhopeful girls and worried mothers inheart-rending villages.

“They have this amazingcompendium of life, spirituality,”Murphy says. “I hope people will seethem as more than an object. I hope theywill see them as an extension of aculture, and try to recognize thehumanity that goes into making them.”

Red Roots andCarpet Mysteries

ABOVE AND LEFT BY HASAM SARBAKHSHIAN

Brian Murphy, author of “The Root of Wild Madder,” traveled Iran and Afghanistan,tracing the origins of carpet weaving by nomads such as those at left and the mysticaland spiritual dimensions of the rugs. Inset: the madder plant, source of red dye.

than that. I think there’s pro-found, considered despair in it.Taken as a whole, Warhol’s artseems to portray a world so thor-oughly sold out that there’s nohope for it.

“Warhol Legacy” was chosenfrom works in the Andy WarholMuseum in Pittsburgh, filled outwith a few loans. Most of his sig-nature series are represented. Theearly Campbell soup cans arethere, along with a stack of his gi-ant Brillo boxes. There are histrademark silk-screen paintings ofMarilyn, Liz, Jackie and Warholhimself. A gallery titled “Deathand Disaster” shows Warhol riff-ing on news photos of suicides,car crashes, the electric chair andbotulism-laden cans of tuna. Othergalleries concentrate on fascinat-ing works — some of Warhol’sbest — that may not be wellknown to the general public: hisgrim little Polaroids of guns andknives; his “abstract” images de-rived from shadows, Rorschachblots and camouflage; his gripping“Screen Tests,” in which one sub-ject after another stares into amovie camera’s lens for four long,uneventful minutes.

And almost all of the more than150 works in the exhibition seemto point to a culture of consump-tion that, in one way or another,has broken down.

As art historian Thomas Crowpointed out in a famous article,the “Pop” side of Warhol’s art,which can feel like a celebration ofAmerican consumerism, is morethan counterbalanced by a tragicside. There are the crashes andsuicides and executions, even thatlethal tuna, that suggest not ev-erything is right in big-box Amer-ica.

Even Warhol’s most famous ce-lebrity images aren’t so much cele-brations of Hollywood values asrecords of their failure. Warhol’sfirst Marilyns were painted rightafter her breakdown and suicide.His Liz Taylors were made afterher very public illness and manyscandalous affairs, and they don’texactly show her at her best. Eve-ry one of the Warhol Jackie pic-tures that render the first lady inher stylish heyday, when she was asymbol of American optimism andenergy, was painted after her hus-band had been gunned down.

But the truly tragic side of War-hol’s imagery, even at its grim-mest, is that for all its touchingsubject matter, it has so little pow-er to touch us. Repeated in relent-less series, in every color and size,Warhol’s pictures can feel like al-most random dips into the streamof stuff and images that float by usevery day. Even when his pictureshave shock value, it’s the kind ofshock you get from the pictures ina tabloid, the kind of shock thatleaves you once you’ve left thecheckout aisle.

Warhol’s appropriated imageryfeels so heavily pre-processed bythe pop culture industry that it isleft with all the bite and tooth of aKraft single.

Popular culture doesn’t justconsume big news and celebrity; itswallows its icons whole. Warhol’sart documents how their meaninggets dissolved and digested —with his pictures as the end result.

Even when Warhol himself hastaken the photograph that a silk-screen portrait is based on, as inthe relentless flow of commissionshe received from figures such as

Cheryl Tiegs and Debbie Harry,there’s a strong sense that the sit-ter has become just one more in-terchangeable product turned outby the Warholizers at the Factory.The value of these portraits, andmaybe of their sitters, too, de-pends on the branding that War-hol’s trademark technique and col-or gives to them. The saddestthing is to imagine each of thesesitters paying something like$35,000 to be turned into part ofsomeone else’s product line. Youmight as well pay to become a Pezdispenser head.

It’s not clear that Warhol’s al-most interchangeable sitters aremeant to have any more signif-icance — to him, to us, maybeeven to themselves — than all thedifferent shoes he drew in his ear-lier career as a commercial artist.

In Warhol’s art, that is, consum-er culture doesn’t come up shortonly when it’s seen failing — in itssuicides and accidents and assas-sinations. It also fails when it suc-ceeds. As plenty of studies havesuggested, the fundamental prem-ise of consumerism — that happi-

ness grows in tandem with wealthand ownership — is a failure fromthe start. The eerily empty com-modities depicted in Warhol’s art,and produced by it, can feel like il-lustrations of that failure.

There are only rare moments inthis show when we aren’t face-to-face with the all-consuming mawof commodity culture. In the sin-gle gallery of (almost) abstractpictures, we see Warhol huntingfor imagery that is so incon-sequential, so beside the point inwhat it says, that it can resist thepull of outside forces.

Warhol’s almost indecipherableimages of random shadows castonto a wall feel so trivial and in-cidental that they manage to floatfree of any use the larger worldcould put them to.

Ditto for a series of “abstrac-tions” that Warhol based on stan-dard camouflage patterns. Afterall, indeterminacy is what camou-flage is all about: Its explicit goalis to remain unseen and unsee-able, to avoid coming togetherinto any kind of meaningful, evenrecognizable image. Warhol’s

camouflage paintings are icons ofmeaninglessness.

Warhol’s paintings that mimicRorschach blots have some of thesame force. They’re built aroundpatterns that are meant to be ab-solutely empty of meaning untilsomeone reads some into them.

This makes them just the oppo-site of Warhol’s celebrity images,which had been overstuffed withmeaning — if only of the most su-perficial kind — long before theartist got to them.

But it’s those four-minute“Screen Tests,” which come at theclose of the Corcoran exhibition,that feel most like they’ve escapedthe prepackaging and pre-proc-essing of consumer culture. Theirsitters, whether famous or not,seem to have some kind of powerand authenticity that don’t de-pend on roles they’ve taken onwithin the world outside. Thesefilm clips are so foursquare intheir point-and-shoot technique,their content so willfully ungus-sied up with style and a fancylook, that they seem to let theirsitters withdraw, for a few min-

utes at least, from a culture of con-sumption, spectacle and self-pre-sentation. The “Screen Tests” arekind of boring, and their sittersseem bored in them. But there’s asense that withdrawal into bore-dom can provide a refuge from in-volvement in a buzzing socialworld that will only swallow upyour individuality.

It’s a bleak take on life, and I’mnot sure I buy it. If there’s plea-sure to be found in things — andthose of us who love art had betterthink there is — then it’s hard todo without consumption of somekind, and the culture that it bringswith it. A view of Warhol as a rad-ical ascetic does make more senseof how it feels to see this exhibi-tion, however, than one that castshim as the happy, holy fool of massculture.

Just take your Prozac beforeheading to the show.

Warhol Legacy: Selections From theAndy Warhol Museum runs throughFeb. 20 at the Corcoran Gallery ofArt, 500 17th St. NW. Call 202-639-1700 or visit www.corcoran.org.

The Corcoran’s ‘Warhol Legacy’:Despair in a Camouflage of GlitzART, From C1

THE ANDY WARHOL MUSEUM, PITTSBURGH, FOUNDING COLLECTION

Above, a Warhol self-portrait from 1986 done in silk-screen, his trademarkmethod of capturing icons such as Marilyn, Liz, Jackie and, of course,himself. At right, more silk-screen on canvas, “abstract” camouflage.