Thursday, April 30, 2009

Anne Bogart's SITI Company: Who Do You Think You Are

As soon as I looked at the setting on the stage, I knew the performance would be odd. My eyes were immediately drawn to the black and white bull's-eye in the center of the floor. Flanking this were two sets of unopened beer bottles. Above it all was a tangle of fluorescent lights, almost appearing to be a nest. 

The show began with a woman walking in on stage, but oddly enough the lights did not dim or alter in any way prior to her entrance. Briefly distracted by this, my attention was refocused as more people entered the scene. Their dress confused me. I could not pinpoint the period they were supposed to be from. Individually they would probably not necessarily seem out of place, but together they somehow seemed to been pulled from the past. Not one particular year or decade mind you, but maybe more of a strange average of the years between 1960 and 1990. It is difficult to explain. 

In terms of strangeness though, the set and dress were nothing compared to the performance itself. Everything was extremely disjointed. Scenes occurred in varying lengths, often with no overly apparent chronology. Between each scene, the lights would darken and an extremely loud droning sound would occur. There was a narrative, but I don't think the specifics of the story were at all important. Instead, I think the feeling it was trying to convey into the audience was more relevant. Unfortunately, I am at a loss as to how to put this feeling into words. Convoluted disjointedness begins to describe it, but it was certainly not all of it. 

During the approximate second half of the performance, things were more straightforward, but only slightly so. The story previously being conveyed was more or less abandoned, but now it was somehow being explained, at least indirectly. The brain and how it works was randomly being explained. Sometimes in technical terms, sometimes in odd human representations. The more that was explained, the more I had a bizarre sense of being more confused yet more enlightened. I thought I began to understand the first half and its relevance to the second, but now I am seeing multiple possibilities, all of which seem equally wrong and right. 

Despite my slight annoyance and obvious confusion while seeing the performance, I appreciate now how much it made me contemplate it possible meanings and how it all related to myself and the rest of the world. Perhaps that was its real purpose.

Wednesday, April 29, 2009

SITI: Under Construction...and Caution!

I attended the Saturday evening performance of SITI: Under Construction and I felt a spectrum of unexpected emotions. I'm anxious to hear about Tuesday's performance to compare.

The background setting in the theatre really looked like the stage was under construction. The lights were on and the actors and people were walking around as if they were still in the final setup. There were no secrets or unveiling of the show...it was all out there from the beginning.

As my watch read 7:30, the actors appeared on stage and one actor invited everyone to come find new seats, closer to the front. The audience wasn't full so he insisted that we all sit "in the same room." I cautiously stepped forward and found new seats with my guest.

The show opened with an explanation of the "scenes" that were going to be performed followed by a song. There were a series of "scenes" which appeared to be set in the 1950s. I'm so glad I brought someone because I needed someone to confirm my confusion and ultimately discuss what happened in the show immediately after.

The show continued and I sat back and tried to piece together the diverse group of actors who changed outfits, moved props on stage and conveyed a story to the audience. However there are two moments that stand out to me the most in this show and maybe stand out the most to me in terms of the entire semester.

This is where I would have liked to see a CAUTION sign...
One woman came to the front and read note cards in front of a microphone and to be honest I don't remember what was read because on the rest of the stage each actor committed suicide...well not really but each actor represented a way to end your life. It was graphic. It was disturbing. A recorded tape also played simultaneously like a news broadcast discussing tragedies, deaths, etc. One man took off his clothes on stage and wrapped himself in a large, clear tarp and rolled around the stage to signify suffocation. Another man was masking taped to a pole by other people and hung there between two chairs. He was carried to the side of the stage and he looked like he was wrapped in a cocoon.
At this point a family with a young child got up and left. I was more shocked that there was no warning in the program about nudity or graphic images/messages. I don't think there was much description at all about the performance. I felt bad for that boy because he didn't know what was going on and I remember a time when we left a movie theatre early because it ended up being too sad or inappropriate and I have never forgotten that.

I know this is getting long but I wanted to highlight the other most "memorable moment." After the suicide display, one of the actresses came into the audience with a microphone and went up to somebody and simply asked, "When was the last time you had sex?" The man was embarrassed but went along with it and answered. Several people were asked questions about their personal sex lives and I kept thinking get that microphone away from me!

One thing I almost forgot! At the end of the performance, the audience was invited to come on stage and look at the set and props, even move them around to finish off their message about chaos in society and how they made the set which is random, and changeable. The show came full circle in that sense: the actors invited to the performance in a closer seat and then invited us back to join them on stage by the end.

All in all, it was different and in a way I'm glad I went and have a chance to blog about it because I just have so much to say. It wasn't what I expected and I still don't fully understand it. I've decided it was abstract. It was art.

Sunday, April 26, 2009

Art Tatum, playing "Yesterdays"

Though we've already had a class discussing the Charles Rosen concert, here's my comment on the concert: this video of the jazz pianist Art Tatum (1909-1956), playing his version of the song "Yesterdays." Reportedly, when the Rusian composer Sergei Rachmaninoff heard Art Tatum play, he declared Tatum to be the best piano player in the world, in any style.

Saturday, April 25, 2009

Grand Text Auto

After taking in the exhibit "Grand Text Auto" at the Krannert Museum, I was struck by how old-fashioned it all seemed, though these artists/writers apparently consider themselves avant-garde. Much of this--narrative interactivity, randomly-generated texts, etc--has been done since the 1950s, as can be seen by this video of William S. Burroughs describing "cut-up" writing.


Cut-Ups from Matti Niinimäki on Vimeo.

The interactive computer game also seemed extremely old hat, the graphics primitive even by late 1990s standards, while the narrative was basically a soap opera that couldn't get going unless you assumed the role of an avatar and nudged it along. Lots of work, little reward.

The work in this exhibit appeared more like ancient artifacts than anything cutting edge--quaint examples of a by-gone age, in the face of the vast resources of (and audience for) interactivity on the web.

Thursday, April 23, 2009

The Thousand-Hand Guan Yin

Okay, I'm not sure why I'm posting this, except that it's one of the oddest and yet most amazing dance performances I've ever seen, particularly because all the performers are deaf, and yet all the movements are carefully synchronized with the music. This is the China Disabled Performing Arts Troupe, performing the Thousand-Hand Guan Yin, or the Bodhisattva of Compassion. More information on the dance's symbolism can be found here:
http://tywkiwdbi.blogspot.com/2009/04/thousand-hand-guan-yin.html

Anyway, if this performance doesn't fit the terms "art, creativity and diversity," then nothing does!

Gamelan music video

Since Stephen brought up gamelan music, I thought I'd look for a representative music video. This one is pretty good . . .

Charles Rosen: Pianist Extraordinaire

Piano recitals don't rank very high in my book. I played piano for several years and ultimately dreaded the recitals. I didn't understand why we had to showcase our skills when we were just learning. It was an embarrassing, nerve racking experience that led to my decision to stop playing piano. Lame, I know.

However Charles Rosen changed my view of a "piano recital." The first half of the show was a beautiful combination of peaceful music primarily by Chopin. I enjoyed all the pieces but the first one seemed to stand out the most. I'm not sure if it was because it was the first one I heard and I was simply surprised by his skill but throughout the first half, all I kept thinking about was the first Beethoven piece.

While the concert was approximately two hours, it went by faster than I thought. I really enjoyed switching perspectives to see Rosen's fingers play the piano. The determination and precision in each slow and quick movement kept my attention throughout his final pieces. My hands tired from clapping so I couldn't imagine the exhaustion he felt.

Lastly, he memorized all pieces as there was no sheet music in front of him. He is obviously an experienced pianist and his showcase of talent throughout the performance covered a variety of pieces that surprisingly entertained me with no problem. I worried that the music would lull me to sleep but I was jolted awake by focusing on him as he played.

Pianos are one instrument that always throw me off because I can't possibly grasp how so much sound and quality comes from just one instrument. Charles Rosen was like a one man band or more fittingly a pianist extraordinaire.

Piano, gamelan and the Matrix

Last night, watching Charles Rosen perform solo piano works by Beethoven, Chopin and Brahms, I thought about how strange this must seem, and probably boring, to someone unfamiliar with classical music. The piano is pretty much the only instrument on which people play long, solo recitals, a tradition begun by the 19th-century virtuoso Franz Liszt ("le récital, c'est moi"). It doesn't have the sonic variety of the orchestra, or even the capability of changing the sound once a note starts: you press a key and make a sound, and it decays. You can play soft or loud (which explains the instrument's original name, "piano-forte"), and you can make notes sustain by pressing the damper pedal. That's it. Yet with this limited palette, composers have written volumes and volumes of music in every style imaginable. And discerning listeners recognize the "voice" of different composers and pianists just in the way they write for the piano, or play it. In the monochromatic timbre, or sound-color, of the piano, super-signals lie embedded, like the messages of Morse code emerging from undifferentiated dots and dashes. It's not by accident that piano keys are black and white.

These thoughts last night led me to Bali, where I visited last summer to play gamelan music. The gamelan is a metal percussion orchestra, tuned differently than western instruments: instead of 12 pitches, there are only seven, or even sometimes four or five. To uninitiated listeners the music may all sound the same (very fast and loud). But Balinese listeners follow the intricacies of the music, and hear wondrous variety in each piece, commenting on daring compositional gambits, unexpected flourishes, and so on. This kind of not-understanding, or snobbery, can happen in almost any kind of music or art—your parents don't understand the music you listen to. But something about the monochromaticism of the piano, or the limited pitches of the gamelan, seem to put this issue into relief: hearing the super-signal becomes even more important when the surface of the sound is relatively undifferentiated.

It makes me think of the scene in The Matrix where Neo and another character are looking at the green computer symbols cascading down the videoscreens before them. Neo (the uninitiated) sees only symbols; but the adept sees "a blond here, a redhead there." He sees past the surface, directly into the super-signal. This kind of seeing, or hearing, lies behind all kinds of human activity—it's pattern recognition. Perhaps the reason piano music appeals to so many of us is because it strenuously exercises our powers of high-level pattern recognition.

I was not able to make the Rosen performance last night, but I did see the Illini Union Board's presentation of West Side Story over the weekend, so I shall write about that.

I remember seeing West Side Story when I was much younger, perhaps 10 or 11, and liking it very much, so I was very excited to see this most recent performance. The scheduling of the event targeted all the moms here for mother's weekend, and the crowd certainly showed it. I was surrounded on all sides by parents. There was even a person behind me who I overheard saying that this was their third time seeing the performance (their son played Action). I too was seeing someone I knew in the performance. A friend from my floor played Officer Krupke. From high school, I was used to seeing a bunch of people I knew on stage. But seeing just one person I knew, and the fact that the production was definitely larger than a typical high school's, his presence seemed like a much bigger deal. 

The performance itself was overall very well done and extremely entertaining. The orchestra sounded great and so did the performers, although sometimes it was apparent that certain characters mics were not turned up to the same volume level as others, but this could have been on purpose, I am not sure. The girl who played Maria had a beautiful and strong voice, but sometimes she would overpower the boy who played Anthony and nearly make him impossible to hear (there was specualtion that he got the role just because he was a senior anyway). The awesome array of songs were definitely a highlight of this (and I assume all other) productions. The  great songs had me singing to myself at random a full two days after, and I certainly was not alone. 

Tuesday, April 21, 2009

Rosen article

I apologize for not having a more direct link...not really sure how to do that but this should work:
http://the217.com/articles/view/pianist_charles_rosen_to_play_foellinger_great_hall

Click for an article from Buzz magazine about Charles Rosen for Wednesday's performance!

Thursday, April 16, 2009

Mariza

The guitars immediately impressed me with their beautiful sound blended together. I couldn't believe they could move their fingers so fast. Then Mariza came in. She looked like a giant compared to the others sitting down, but absolutely gorgeous. I was constantly watching her steps and thought she'd trip on her long dress any moment, but she never even stumbled.

Her voice amazed me. I got shivers multiple times throughout the concert. I liked it when she danced to the beat or moved her arms around, she really got into the music which made me get into the music even more.

Each musician was amazing at their instrument. I liked hearing each solo throughout the concert, especially the drummer. He had so many different objects to use that I was excited to see what was next. They all felt their music, I love seeing people really into what they're doing.

I liked that Mariza talked to us, it became more personable. I also liked how she sang in english for one of her songs. I could tell she was really trying to connect us to her portugese music and it worked. I was surprised to hear how beautifully she sang in english, but I liked her usual way of singing more.

I've had her songs stuck in my head since I left the concert, I can't get them out.

Mariza

Mariza impressed me. I saw the YouTube videos on the blog but the experience in a live theater was different. Her powerful voice carried throughout the audience, with and without a microphone.

Her dress stood out immediately as she appeared to be a gigantically tall, skinny, model. She gracefully moved across the stage as if her feet floated above the ground

At first the lighting bothered me because I thought it was too dim. I wanted sharper contrasts between light and dark. I could see Mariza and appreciated the individual spotlights for the different musicians. But I wanted to see the detail of her necklace, dress and makeup. We were seated higher in the theater so I'm not sure if a darker illusion fell over my eyes but by the end I was pleased with variety of lighting and greater emphasis on the spotlight.

As for her singing...it was powerful. It was in Portuguese but as she mentioned everyone in the audience was united by the music. I didn't really mind that I didn't know the exact translation. I was able to look around at the musicians or her stage presence. I think she made a very personal, stage presence and a high comfort level between audience and performer. There was not a fourth wall in my mind. She broke that by teaching us new words, asking for us to clap and shout out where we were from. I think she truly cared about her performance and wasn't like an American pop star who goes on concert tour and doesn't always seem to be the happiest camper.

Lastly, I'm glad she sang one song in English because it just proved to me the capabilities of her voice. It still sounded excellent when she wasn't singing her native language...which further impressed me!

Thursday, April 9, 2009

birds

Looking through the work of Audubon I was immediately filled with remembrance of a taxidermy museum, then realizing that that is exactly what he did. Don't get me wrong, his drawings and paintings were very beautiful and precise, but they gave off a sort of creepy dead feeling to me. Some of it was too still, too real to be true. I was very impressed with the expressions he captured on each of the birds faces, that seemed like something that would be very difficult and I thought he conveyed each bird's expression very well.

The photographs is the next room also impressed me. I liked searching for each bird in each picture. It made you notice more in the picture that you usually wouldn't have if you didn't have to search for a specific object. I liked seeing the surrounding of the bird and how they fit into it perfectly. My favorite was the picture with a girl infront of the bird. It made me feel like the bird was watching the girl, waiting for something exciting to happen, where in reality people are usually watching the birds and waiting for something exciting to happen.

I felt a little awkward in the beginning of Manson's workshop, feeling young and not knowing what to expect. I enjoyed getting to know each person by how they acted and what they said while introducing themselves. Throughout the workshop Manson constantly made me feel comfortable in my surroundings, making me feel the earth beneath me, listening to everything from my heartbeat to the buses outside. She made me actually feel and think about what was going on at that exact moment through my body and mind.

I also wanted to join the dancers outside in the rain, and if I wasn't wearing a dress I probably would have. I was jealous of their freedom. They did whatever they felt at that exact moment, falling to the ground, against trees, in the rocks, mud, and onto eachother. Sometimes they reminded me of young children, without a care in the world. I wanted to feel what they felt. Manson's workshop was bizzare and I've never experienced anything like it but I think it gave me many new things to think about.

Birds!

As I walked around the Audubon exhibit and examined all the works presented, I could help but be extremely impressed. From the slight ruffle in some of the birds' feathers to fact that each bird was live size, the attention to detail was extreme. I was curious as to how Audubon conducted his work, and I was pleased to find there was a video in the exhibit that told us how. The grid matching method that Audubon used was interesting, but I was surprised at how painstaking the process seemed to be. The man replicating the process told how his arm was tight not too long after starting, so I cannot imagine how Audubon managed to work for the hours at a time he was said to have devoted to the birds. Slightly unrelated, I found it rather entertaining to discover that Audubon was a strong advocate for protection of wild birds despite the fact that on an average hunting day he was reported to have bagged a hundred birds at a time. 

For the second part of our visit to the exhibit, "Navigation: An Investigation into Physical Intelligence", I really had no idea what what was going on at first, and I don't think a lot of other people did. I was expecting a small group of humbly dressed dancers somehow jumping around in an attempt to imitate the flight of birds. Little did I know that would be the one attempting to imitate a bird. Attempting to emulate the movement of a flock was extremely interesting and even fun, but I was most intrigued to learn how birds are able to navigate. I was already aware of the use of magnetism, but was surprised and delighted to find that birds are able to hear things such as the Atlantic Ocean's waves crashing on the eastern shore or the wind blowing through the Grand Canyon and use them to navigate. 

Monson's final part of the performance, which I've decided to call the Earth and Rain Dance, was extremely engaging. I am having difficulty pinpointing exactly why, but I think it was because the performers just completely let loose and seem to let their body interact with the environment unhindered. I found myself wanting to join them, but given the mud and rain (and perhaps  my lack of confidence) I decided just to watch. In the future, though, I would love to try the dance out.

Wednesday, April 8, 2009

Jennifer Monson Workshop

Last Thursday, after viewing the Audubon exhibit I didn't know what to expect for the dance workshop. As we waited for the performers to arrive, we realized we were the performers. Jennifer Monson was an eccentric character who broke the boundary between speaker and audience. I think it was very effective to have everyone introduce themselves and form a circle like in a discussion setting. A group of strangers became like a flock of birds migrating around the museum and listening to each other. Members of the group even referenced peers by name as if we were all close friends.

I must admit I was antsy at the beginning because I just didn't know where she was going to or what she was going to do. I really wanted to see her dance because she seemed like an experienced, unique dancer. However I enjoyed the group activity and meditation aspects of the workshop. It was a refreshing break from my afternoon and I left feeling as though I couldn't accurately convey what happened without sounding ridiculous. "...Then we ran around the first floor of the art gallery avoiding potential predators..."

Finally, Monson and a few of her students performed outside in the rain. It was obviously a very natural setting and all of the onlookers seemed very impressed from behind the glass window. Monson and her students were in their element, unaffected by the rain or the wet gravel. It was their stage and they danced and embraced the surrounding with no difficulty.

Looking back, it was a unique and bizarre experience that I don't think I would have enjoyed as much if I knew what was coming. That element of surprise or lack of control helped me go with the flow and work with the other audience members to learn from Monson.

Friday, April 3, 2009

A range of Portuguese music

Yes, Mariza is a wonderful singer, and fado music can be entrancing, but it isn't the only music from Portugal! To give a little musical context for the upcoming Mariza concert we'll be attending, here are music videos from other Portuguese artists. The group Dazkarieh is a sort of punk/folk ensemble, and the video for their song "Vitorina" has a distinctive nervous energy.


Rodrigo Lêao is a composer and keyboard player who specializes in a kind of deep cabaret, and "Voltar" is typical: silky and sultry.


Jorge Cruz sings a folk pop music with attitude. In this video of his song "Nada," he walks across various Portuguese landscapes. I recognize the green Zêzere river valley, the mountainous Serra da Estrela, the Dom Luis Bridge in Porto, the wheat fields of the Alentejo, and the sunny Costa da Caparica.


Finally, the great jazz composer and pianist Mário Laginha. This solo piece, "Fado," is from his award-winning CD "Cancoês & Fugas." The video is a slideshow of old photos of Lisbon, plugging into the deep love the Portuguese feel for their capital city.


So, enjoy! I'm a Portuguese music fanatic, and I'm really trying to restrain myself here, believe it or not. So don't get me started on Portuguese rock and roll, and the going-on-20-years-and-counting band Rádio Macau . . .

Okay, I can't restrain myself. Here's Rádio Macau: a lousy single photo video, but a slow, unsettling song, featuring the unusual voice of lead singer Xana: "Quando Entro Nos Teus Olhos," from their latest CD, "Oito."

Thursday, April 2, 2009

Our Lines Combined...

Before break, I know we mentioned trying to create poems from each other's favorite lines...so I just tried it out. I think it is a neat idea...reminds me of the bird videos in a way how (this is far fetched) but we are all moving "our wings" on our own with our own lines but together we form one moving mass of birds which results in one poem that appears to fit together like it always was like that...I know it sounds weird but those birds are neat!

Here is goes:

The characteristic silence of the audience was shattered.
...made me jump out of my seat... twice.
It lets your imagination run wild.
It was a new world.
There's something about objects falling out of thin air that excites me.
Complete drama. Complete love. And I melt for it every time.
I was surprised that something so simple could be so powerful.
The show was bizarre.
It's really all about perspective.
I loved seeing their emotions through their eyes.
I realized I was also walking into a new world, one I've never been in before.
I got goosebumps whenever they hit a note with full power and held it there, and I waited and hoped for another note to strike me even harder.
Each experience, regardless of whether I enjoy it or not, will have value.
So I went in as a blank slate.
I was sad when I realized it was over.
I'm glad I stepped into that world.

Anna Deavere Smith (!)

When Tuesday night came around, I was honestly at first greatly annoyed that I had to attend this event. My homework was copious and I knew it was going to take me a great deal of time to complete. Even though I eventually got to bed very very late, I am still extremely glad that I went. 

The name "Anna Deavere Smith" always sounded vaguely familiar to me, but I never investigated. Went I flipped over the program for the show and saw her picture, again I felt that she was extremely familiar. I flipped again to her bio, scanned, and then knew exactly where I knew her from. She played Nancy McNally on the television show West Wing. She was a secondary character, but still important. West Wing was and is still my favorite television show, so seeing Ms. Smith in person was extremely exciting for me (and also probably made my enjoyment of her importance basically automatic). 

Her impressions were amazing. I have never heard of most of the people she emulated, but I thoroughly enjoyed all of them. From an anthropological perspective, the act of one person portraying a group of very different people's opinion on the loose topic of "Change in America" was extremely interesting. I felt as though I was witnessing 8 (?) different case studies at once. 

Again, I enjoyed her entire performance, but there were several highlights. Her first person (Studds perhaps?) was extremely entertaining. Stick me in a room with a spunky old person who tends to ramble and I'll be happy for hours. This Studds person seemed just like that and I am sad that I never encountered him. I also enjoyed her Anne Richards. For some reason, I have seen many things that have somehow randomly included her, and I always found her very entertaining. Smith's impression was delightful. My favorite person she emulated was of the Korean woman. I found it extremely interesting to get a non Black or White opinion in what was depicted as an only Black and White racial issue. 

Ms. Smith's performance was thoroughly. I am very glad to have gone and would attend another one of her events in a heartbeat.

Wednesday, April 1, 2009

Mariza, from Portugal

Here is a video of a beautiful song performed by Mariza, widely acknowledged as the greatest fadista (singer of fado songs) of her generation. Fado is a style of music that has often been described as a kind of Portuguse blues or soul music, because of its deep passion. Here is the song "Meu Fado":


Here's another video, from a live, outdoor performance in Lisbon, right beside the grand Tour de Belém, where Mariza sings"Há Uma Música do Povo," with lyrics by the great Portuguese poet Fernando Pessoa:


The Portuguese adore Mariza, and here's a video sketch, "Super Mariza," that pokes some affectionate fun at her, by the comedy troupe Gato Fedorento (Stinking Cat), which is the Portuguese equivalent of our SNL. No Portuguese language ability needed to appreciate the essential humor!

my lines

I could not stop laughing for 5 minutes straight. My stomach hurt.

I haven't laughed that hard in I dont' know how long.

... made my heart jump.

There's something about objects falling out of thin air that excites me.

Complete drama. Complete love. And I melt for it every time.

I got goosebumps whenever they hit a note with full power and held it there, and I waited and hoped for another note to strike me even harder.

I felt very small sitting down.

I was always looking for a melody, and once I expected one to soon come, it ended abruptly.

...made me jump out of my seat... twice.

It was a new world.

... and I followed it through the quest for righteousness.

... game me vivid pictures in my mind and strong feelings.

I realized I was also walking into a new world, one I've never been in before.

... made my heart throb to the beat.

... kept me at the edge of my seat.

I was sad when I realized it was over.

It was surprising, beautiful, intense, and outright hilarioius.

I'm glad I stepped into that world.

... immediately brought me back to my childhood.

... was one of the hardest things I've ever done.

It made me feel important. It made me feel unique. It made me feel real.

"Thats me?!" I thought.

I would read into myself and begin to realize who I really was.

It lets your imagination run wild.

I loved seeing their emotions through their eyes.

Thursday, March 19, 2009

Thinking about birds

Since we'll soon be seeing a dance performance at the Krannert Museum, centered around the exhibit of Audubon prints, I thought it might be a good time to starting thinking about birds, so I'm posting three videos on the subject. This first is a clip from the movie Winged Migration, a profoundly beautiful documentary on the migratory patterns (and adventures) of birds around the world.

The music of birds

French composer Olivier Messiaen was fascinated by the sounds that birds make, and their vocal landscapes influenced his music. He often transcribed bird "song" for piano, even orchestra. Here's an example from his composition, "Little Sketches of Birds."
And check out this website, which includes a fine essay on his methods, has another musical example, and is illustrated throughout by the work of Audubon: http://www.lichtensteiger.de/messiaen_oiseaux.html

And make sure, after you listen to Messiaen's music, that you also listen to the extraordinary sounds of the Lyre bird,as presented by David Attenborough, here: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=VjE0Kdfos4Y

The starlings sculpt the air

The remarkable collaborative and playful art of birds!

Each experience, regardless of whether I enjoy it or not, will have value. 

...who periodically would stand on something and laugh maniacally.

牯慭瑴湩⽧ਾ†眼债湵瑣慵楴湯敋湲湩慲楷杮片摩潈楲潺瑮污灓捡湩

...I feel like I make the mistake with them.

I was surprised that something so simple could be so powerful. 

Monday, March 16, 2009

the beginning of poetry...

The characteristic silence of the audience was shattered.

The speech bubble reminded me of returning home for Christmas break this year to my family who had continued life without me. I secretly hoped I wouldn’t miss anything going on in our suburban town or within the walls of our four-bedroom home, but not all wishes come true.

As printed in the Warhol booklet, “everybody becomes a celebrity” through the method of capturing portraits with a Polaroid camera.

This class has been a "first" for me in many ways as I have experienced performances and discussions that I have had nowhere else.

The volume and change in pitch made me jump out of my seat, as it was unexpected. It was like I had just turned the corner at a Haunted House and even though no scream came from my mouth, my body language suggested that I was definitely surprised.

So I went in as a blank slate.

The show was bizarre.

Rather than revealing something that would make the audience less impressed, this thin white bar allowed the jumper to jump higher, display his tricks and make the audience laugh louder.

It's really all about perspective.

Thursday, March 12, 2009

found poetry

- making poems from entries in class blog posts
- people's voices coming through in their posts
- you come to class and discover that different people had the same reactions

- pull together different reactions to the same event
-- sometimes similar, sometimes completely different
-- find music (or images, video etc.) online to go with lines from posts
-- like a dream, mixing things together in different ways, all coming from different sources
-- like a diamond: the more angles you have on something, the meaning multiplies geometrically

- Renga (Japanese collaborative poetry)

- renting cameras from the library? (Luna will check on it) PG's camera

- this reminds me of....
- this makes me think of....
- this makes me feel....

- don't be afraid to put in parts of your past lives, your stories, things that move us

John Bresland's video essay

is here.

brainstorming

- multiple representations of a single idea
- Theme and variation (or variations w/o a theme)
- something visual; sound; writing
- saxophone, piano
- spoken word
- sound effects in Garageband (or Logic)

- poem with dialogue
- story as blog
-- goes backwards in time
-- comments become part of the story (secondary characters)

- make a video
-- live action or animated? machinima?

- video essay
-- PG's "Bring me the head of Diogo Alves"
http://www.vimeo.com/3080808

Sunday, March 8, 2009

If we saw in words

Navigating a linguistically blunt New York City . . .

Narrative stacking/spoiler alert!

Don't read this if you haven't yet looked at the "World Builder" video yet!

But I'd like to make a few points about narrative here, in relation to this video.  The graphics are impressive, but in my opinion, carry the weak narrative along.  Makes sense, perhaps, that only one day was spent filming, two years honing the special effects.

The video's narrative is made of essentially four distinctive blocks.  The man lying down in an empty landscape, examining photos of a woman that float in the air.  Then, he begins constructing an elaborate world--a few streets of what appears to be some European city setting.  Then, the woman from the photos appears from a doorway and takes in the world, delighted.  Finally, the world deconstructs itself, and we see the woman lying in a hospital bed, see on a sign what the world building has been all about.  I haven't mentioned the cheesy use of a flower, by the way, but its use at the end, in which the digital flower appears in an actual glass of actual water, is a too well-worn "surprise" that film has used again and again: a person returns from a fantasy world, and yet carries with him/her some object from that world, which implies that it wasn't a fantasy at all.

Thinking of our discussion on Shakespearean Design in the last class, though, how could the four blocks of the narrative described above be moved around, rearranged to create perhaps a more interesting narrative?  What might be added to it, or subtracted, to transform the story's meaning?  Any ideas you might come up with we could discuss in our next class.

Saturday, March 7, 2009

The healing holograph

How to build a holographic world, and why.
Filming took one day; post-production graphics, two years.

World Builder from Bruce Branit on Vimeo.

Thursday, March 5, 2009

Cirque Eloize

Going to the circus with my best friend, I expected giant elephants, spitting fire, and roaring tigers. Walking into the theater I quickly realized that this was not going to be that kind of circus.

The setting was dark and foggy, the exact opposite of what I thought it would be like. We immediately drooled over 'Stephane' and laughed at the swinging light and their random stories with hard to understand accents. They were all characters in a story, but I didn't realize that until towards the end.

The Martial Arts part was by far the most amusing. I could not stop laughing for 5 minutes straight. My stomach hurt. The men trying to mock the martial artist and failed miserably. They kicked each other, hit each other and fell down to the floor. I haven't laughed that hard in I don't know how long.

The part that amazed me the most was the big iron ball with 4 people all moving around it, holding onto each other and swinging round and round. This made me think of a team. They put all their trust in the others to hold them up, balance it out, and be elegant all at the same time. I enjoyed watching how they were all intertwined and moved around each other where i would lose them and only be seeing one object, instead of the many things it held.

The trampoline made my heart jump. They could jump so high! I was jealous. I wanted to jump on that trampoline. My favorite part was seeing them vanish on the ceiling, and drop out of nowhere to then vanish again.

That brings me to the xylophone players. They were hilarious, fighing over which song to play and how fast to play it. The sound was incredible but their stage presence was even better. Throughout the piece there were little things falling out of the sky onto them, ending with hundreds of them pouring out of the sky. This made me think about the dance performace where the strawberry fell out of the sky. Theres something about objects falling out of thin air that excites me.

The one thing I thought about the most was the little iron sculpture that wheeled in and out of stage throughout the performance. At first I thought it was just one random thing in the beginning of the show to be funny. Then I thought it was creepy. Then I loved it and wanted it to come out more and more. I thought about this little creature as one of the characters. I wondered why they put this random robotic sculpture in the story line at all, then realized that it would not be the same without it. It served a purpose. I'm still trying to figure out what its real purpose was, but honestly, that rolling robotic sculpture is the thing that stuck in my mind the most in Cirque Eloize. And maybe thats why they put it in there.

I loved that they had a storyline, characters and music. The music was absolutely amazing. It brough emotion to the whole story. I even teared up at the end. I very much enjoyed this unique circus and hope to see another like it.
Alright, so clearly the thing below is not my proper post. Well, it is, but it got transformed for some reason. I thought it was fun and exciting, so I decided to post it anyway. Sorry...
格浴浸湬㩳㵯產湲猺档浥獡洭捩潲潳瑦挭浯漺晦捩㩥景楦散ਢ浸湬㩳㵷產湲猺档浥獡洭捩潲潳瑦挭浯漺晦捩㩥潷摲ਢ浸湬㩳㵭栢瑴㩰⼯捳敨慭⹳業牣獯景⹴潣⽭景楦散㈯〰⼴㈱漯浭≬砊汭獮∽瑨灴⼺眯睷眮⸳牯⽧剔刯䍅栭浴㑬∰ਾ㰊敨摡ਾ洼瑥⁡慮敭吽瑩敬挠湯整瑮∽㸢㰊敭慴渠浡㵥敋睹牯獤挠湯整瑮∽㸢㰊敭慴栠瑴⵰煥極㵶潃瑮湥⵴祔数挠湯整瑮∽整瑸栯浴㭬挠慨獲瑥甽晴㠭㸢㰊敭慴渠浡㵥牐杯摉挠湯整瑮圽牯⹤潄畣敭瑮ਾ洼瑥⁡慮敭䜽湥牥瑡牯挠湯整瑮∽楍牣獯景⁴潗摲㈠〰∸ਾ洼瑥⁡慮敭伽楲楧慮潴⁲潣瑮湥㵴䴢捩潲潳瑦圠牯⁤〲㠰㸢㰊楬歮爠汥䘽汩ⵥ楌瑳栊敲㵦昢汩㩥⼯潬慣桬獯⽴獕牥⽳䅂䰯扩慲祲䌯捡敨⽳敔灭牯牡䥹整獭洯潳汣灩〯汣灩晟汩汥獩⹴浸≬ਾℼⴭ楛⁦瑧⁥獭崹㰾浸㹬 漼伺晦捩䑥捯浵湥却瑥楴杮㹳 㰠㩯汁潬偷䝎㸯 ⼼㩯晏楦散潄畣敭瑮敓瑴湩獧ਾ⼼浸㹬ℼ敛摮晩ⵝ㸭ℼⴭ楛⁦瑧⁥獭崹㰾浸㹬 眼场牯䑤捯浵湥㹴 㰠㩷潚浯〾⼼㩷潚浯ਾ†眼吺慲正潍敶㹳慦獬㱥眯吺慲正潍敶㹳 㰠㩷牔捡䙫牯慭瑴湩⽧ਾ†眼债湵瑣慵楴湯敋湲湩⽧ਾ†眼䐺慲楷杮片摩潈楲潺瑮污灓捡湩㹧㠱瀠㱴眯䐺慲楷杮片摩潈楲潺瑮污灓捡湩㹧 㰠㩷牄睡湩䝧楲噤牥楴慣卬慰楣杮ㄾ‸瑰⼼㩷牄睡湩䝧楲噤牥楴慣卬慰楣杮ਾ†眼䐺獩汰祡潈楲潺瑮污牄睡湩䝧楲䕤敶祲〾⼼㩷楄灳慬䡹牯穩湯慴䑬慲楷杮片摩癅牥㹹 㰠㩷楄灳慬噹牥楴慣䑬慲楷杮片摩癅牥㹹㰰眯䐺獩汰祡敖瑲捩污牄睡湩䝧楲䕤敶祲ਾ†眼嘺污摩瑡䅥慧湩瑳捓敨慭⽳ਾ†眼区癡䥥塦䱍湉慶楬㹤慦獬㱥眯区癡䥥塦䱍湉慶楬㹤 㰠㩷杉潮敲楍數䍤湯整瑮显污敳⼼㩷杉潮敲楍數䍤湯整瑮ਾ†眼䄺睬祡即潨偷慬散潨摬牥敔瑸显污敳⼼㩷汁慷獹桓睯汐捡桥汯敤呲硥㹴 㰠㩷潃灭瑡扩汩瑩㹹 †眼䈺敲歡牗灡数呤扡敬⽳ਾ†㰠㩷潄瑮片睯畁潴楦⽴ਾ†㰠㩷潄瑮畁潴楦䍴湯瑳慲湩摥慔汢獥㸯 †眼䐺湯噴牥䅴楬湧湉硔硢㸯 㰠眯䌺浯慰楴楢楬祴ਾ㰠眯场牯䑤捯浵湥㹴㰊砯汭㰾嬡湥楤嵦ⴭ㰾ⴡ嬭晩朠整洠潳㤠㹝砼汭ਾ㰠㩷慌整瑮瑓汹獥䐠晥潌正摥瑓瑡㵥昢污敳•慌整瑮瑓汹䍥畯瑮∽㜲∶ਾ㰠眯䰺瑡湥却祴敬㹳㰊砯汭㰾嬡湥楤嵦ⴭਾ猼祴敬ਾℼⴭ ⨯䘠湯⁴敄楦楮楴湯⁳⼪䀊潦瑮昭捡੥笉潦瑮昭浡汩㩹慃扭楲㭡ऊ慰潮敳ㄭ㈺㐠㔠㌠㔠㐠㘠㌠㈠㐠਻洉潳昭湯⵴档牡敳㩴㬰ऊ獭ⵯ敧敮楲ⵣ潦瑮昭浡汩㩹畡潴਻洉潳昭湯⵴楰捴㩨慶楲扡敬਻洉潳昭湯⵴楳湧瑡牵㩥″‰‰‰‱㬰੽⼠‪瑓汹⁥敄楦楮楴湯⁳⼪瀊䴮潳潎浲污‬楬䴮潳潎浲污‬楤⹶獍乯牯慭੬笉獭ⵯ瑳汹ⵥ慰敲瑮∺㬢ऊ慭杲湩琭灯〺湩਻洉牡楧⵮楲桧㩴椰㭮ऊ慭杲湩戭瑯潴㩭〱〮瑰਻洉牡楧⵮敬瑦〺湩਻洉潳瀭条湩瑡潩㩮楷潤⵷牯桰湡਻昉湯⵴楳敺ㄺ⸲瀰㭴ऊ潦瑮昭浡汩㩹吢浩獥丠睥删浯湡㬢ऊ獭ⵯ獡楣⵩潦瑮昭浡汩㩹慃扭楲㭡ऊ獭ⵯ獡楣⵩桴浥ⵥ潦瑮洺湩牯氭瑡湩਻洉潳昭牡慥瑳昭湯⵴慦業祬䌺浡牢慩਻洉潳昭牡慥瑳琭敨敭昭湯㩴業潮⵲慬楴㭮ऊ獭ⵯ慨獮⵩潦瑮昭浡汩㩹慃扭楲㭡ऊ獭ⵯ慨獮⵩桴浥ⵥ潦瑮洺湩牯氭瑡湩਻洉潳戭摩⵩潦瑮昭浡汩㩹吢浩獥丠睥删浯湡㬢ऊ獭ⵯ楢楤琭敨敭昭湯㩴業潮⵲楢楤紻䀊慰敧匠捥楴湯਱笉楳敺㠺㔮湩ㄠ⸱椰㭮ऊ慭杲湩ㄺ〮湩ㄠ㈮椵⸱椰⸱㔲湩਻洉潳栭慥敤⵲慭杲湩⸺椵㭮ऊ獭ⵯ潦瑯牥洭牡楧㩮㔮湩਻洉潳瀭灡牥猭畯捲㩥㬰੽楤⹶敓瑣潩ㅮऊ灻条㩥敓瑣潩ㅮ紻ⴊ㸭㰊猯祴敬ਾℼⴭ楛⁦瑧⁥獭〱㹝㰊瑳汹㹥 ⨯匠祴敬䐠晥湩瑩潩獮⨠ਯ慴汢⹥獍乯牯慭呬扡敬ऊ浻潳猭祴敬渭浡㩥吢扡敬丠牯慭≬਻洉潳琭瑳汹ⵥ潲扷湡ⵤ楳敺〺਻洉潳琭瑳汹ⵥ潣扬湡ⵤ楳敺〺਻洉潳猭祴敬渭獯潨㩷敹㭳ऊ獭ⵯ瑳汹ⵥ慰敲瑮∺㬢ऊ獭ⵯ慰摤湩ⵧ污㩴椰⸵瀴⁴椰⸵瀴㭴ऊ獭ⵯ慰慲洭牡楧⵮潴㩰椰㭮ऊ獭ⵯ慰慲洭牡楧⵮楲桧㩴椰㭮ऊ獭ⵯ慰慲洭牡楧⵮潢瑴浯ㄺ⸰瀰㭴ऊ獭ⵯ慰慲洭牡楧⵮敬瑦〺湩਻洉潳瀭条湩瑡潩㩮楷潤⵷牯桰湡਻昉湯⵴楳敺ㄺ⸲瀰㭴ऊ潦瑮昭浡汩㩹吢浩獥丠睥删浯湡㬢ऊ獭ⵯ獡楣⵩潦瑮昭浡汩㩹慃扭楲㭡ऊ獭ⵯ獡楣⵩桴浥ⵥ潦瑮洺湩牯氭瑡湩਻洉潳昭牡慥瑳昭湯⵴慦業祬∺楔敭⁳敎⁷潒慭≮਻洉潳昭牡慥瑳琭敨敭昭湯㩴業潮⵲慦敲獡㭴ऊ獭ⵯ慨獮⵩潦瑮昭浡汩㩹慃扭楲㭡ऊ獭ⵯ慨獮⵩桴浥ⵥ潦瑮洺湩牯氭瑡湩紻㰊猯祴敬ਾℼ敛摮晩ⵝ㸭㰊栯慥㹤ਊ戼摯⁹杢潣潬㵲桷瑩⁥慬杮䔽ⵎ单猠祴敬✽慴ⵢ湩整癲污⸺椵❮ਾℼⴭ瑓牡䙴慲浧湥⵴㸭ਊ瀼挠慬獳䴽潳潎浲污猠祴敬✽楬敮栭楥桧㩴〲┰㸧吨楨⁳獩朠楯杮琠敢爠慥汬੹楤橳楯瑮摥⤮戼㹲㰊灳湡猠祴敬✽獭ⵯ慴ⵢ潣湵㩴✱☾扮灳☻扮灳☻扮灳☻扮灳☻扮灳☻扮灳☻扮灳☻扮灳☻扮灳☻扮灳☻扮灳※⼼灳湡圾敨੮桴⁥獵敨Ⱳ愠⁳桳⁥潬歯摥愠⁴祭琠捩敫ⱴ栠摡琠慰獵⁥湡⁤桴湩敢潦敲猠敨挠畯摬琊汥敭眠敨敲琠潧‬⁉湫睥䤠眠畯摬戠⁥楳瑴湩⁧潳敭桷牥⁥湩整敲瑳湩⹧吠敨挊牯敮⁲敳瑡湩Ⱨ搠獥楰整椠獴爠汥瑡癩汥⁹摯⁤潰楳楴湯愠摮猠瑥灵‬慷⁳瑳汩੡敤散瑮瘠敩ⱷ戠瑵漠汮⁹獡氠湯⁧獡礠畯挠畯摬洠湡略敶⁲潴猠敥漠敶⁲桴⁥敤歳氭歩੥瑳畲瑣牵⁥湩映潲瑮漠⁦潹⹵㰠牢ਾ猼慰瑳汹㵥洧潳琭扡挭畯瑮ㄺ㸧渦獢㭰渦獢㭰渦獢㭰渦獢㭰渦獢㭰渦獢㭰渦獢㭰渦獢㭰渦獢㭰渦獢㭰渦獢㭰㰠猯慰㹮楃煲敵䔊潬穩⁥慷⁳散瑲楡汮⁹湡椠瑮牥獥楴杮椠⁦潮⁴慲摮浯猠煥敵据⁥景瀠牥潦浲湡散⹳䤠爊慥楬敺⁤扡畯⁴〲洠湩瑵獥椠瑮桴⁥桳睯琠慨⁴桴牥⁥慷⁳潮眠祡䤠挠畯摬爠浥浥敢ੲ污桴⁥数晲牯慭据獥‬潳䤠琠潯潴洠獥楳祬猠牣睡楬杮漠瑮祭瀠潲牧浡挠癯牥瘠条敵爊湡潤敤慴汩⁳景琠敨洠牯⁥敭潭慲汢⁥慰瑲⹳㰠牢ਾ猼慰瑳汹㵥洧潳琭扡挭畯瑮ㄺ㸧渦獢㭰渦獢㭰渦獢㭰渦獢㭰渦獢㭰渦獢㭰渦獢㭰渦獢㭰渦獢㭰渦獢㭰渦獢㭰㰠猯慰㹮桔੥楦獲⁴数晲牯慭据⁥⁉慭慮敧⁤潴猠牣睡潤湷眠獡琠敨愠慭整牵洠牡楴污愠瑲⁳牧畯⹰䤊猠慴瑲摥愠瑴湥楤杮愠洠牡楴污愠瑲⁳汣扵琠楨⁳敳敭瑳牥‬湡⁤⁉潣汵⁤潴慴汬੹祳灭瑡楨敺眠瑩⁨畢扭楬杮愠瑴浥瑰⁳景琠敨鲀瑳摵湥獴胢₝潴映汯潬⁷桴楥⁲湩瑳畲瑣牯㰮牢ਾ猼慰瑳汹㵥洧潳琭扡挭畯瑮ㄺ㸧渦獢㭰渦獢㭰渦獢㭰渦獢㭰渦獢㭰渦獢㭰渦獢㭰渦獢㭰渦獢㭰渦獢㭰渦獢㭰㰠猯慰㹮ੁ敤慴汩琠慨⁴潰灰牥甠⁰湯散漠⁲睴捩⁥畤楲杮琠敨猠潨⁷桴瑡洠摡⁥潮猠湥敳琠敭眊獡琠慨⁴瑳慲杮⁥数癲牥⁴慢汬牥湩⁡慭⹮䠠⁥敫瑰映汯楤杮甠⁰楨⁳牦湯⁴楳敤猠敨眊獡猠敥業杮祬瀠敲敳瑮湩⁧潴愠祮湯⁥湩栠獩瀠瑡⹨䘠牯洠⁥桴瑡眠獡樠獵⁴牣敥祰洊牯⁥桴湡愠祮桴湩⁧汥敳‮戼㹲㰊灳湡猠祴敬✽獭ⵯ慴ⵢ潣湵㩴✱☾扮灳☻扮灳☻扮灳☻扮灳☻扮灳☻扮灳☻扮灳☻扮灳☻扮灳☻扮灳☻扮灳※⼼灳湡䄾猊散敮琠慨⁴瑳捩獫漠瑵椠祭洠湩⁤獩琠敨瀠慬整猠楰湮湩⁧睳浡⁰眨汥ⱬ琠慨馀⁳桷瑡䤊挠污敬⁤瑩⸩䄠瑣慵汬ⱹ椠⁴獩渠瑯琠敨猠楰湮湩⁧汰瑡獥䤠爠浥浥敢⁲桴⁥潭瑳‬畢ੴ捡畴污祬琠敨猠湵昭杩牵⁥湩琠敨戠捡杫潲湵⹤吠敨猠散敮眠獡琠敨映物瑳琠浩⁥湩琠敨瀊牥潦浲湡散琠慨馀⁳⁉敲污穩摥琠慨⁴瑩眠獡愠睬祡⁳桴牥⁥湡⁤污潳琠慨⁴瑩栠摡猊捵⁨⁡牰景畯摮攠晦捥⁴湯琠敨洠潯⁤景攠捡⁨敳浧湥⹴䤠眠獡猠牵牰獩摥琠慨ੴ潳敭桴湩⁧潳猠浩汰⁥潣汵⁤敢猠潰敷晲汵‮戼㹲㰊灳湡猠祴敬✽獭ⵯ慴ⵢ潣湵㩴✱☾扮灳☻扮灳☻扮灳☻扮灳☻扮灳☻扮灳☻扮灳☻扮灳☻扮灳☻扮灳☻扮灳※⼼灳湡吾牨畯桧畯ੴ桴⁥桳睯‬敷眠牥⁥潴摬愠猠潴祲愠潢瑵琠敨琠牨敥挠畯楳獮‮瑁氠慥瑳䤠琠楨歮琠敨੹敷敲挠畯楳獮‮潈敮瑳祬䤠眠獡爠瑡敨⁲潬瑳搠牵湩⁧桴獩眠潨敬猠潴祲琠汥楬杮瀊潲散獳‮桔楥⁲捡散瑮⁳敷敲搠晩楦畣瑬映牯洠ⱥ愠摮䤠栠癡⁥潳敭桷瑡瀠潯⁲敨牡湩Ⱨ猊癥湥畴污祬䤠樠獵⁴楫摮漠⁦瑳灯数⁤楬瑳湥湩⹧䄠⁳湯⁥潣汵⁤浩条湩ⱥ琠楨⁳慭敤洊⁥敶祲挠湯畦敳⁤瑡琠敨攠摮湩⹧吠敨瘠牥⁹灵敢瑡戠来湩楮杮漠⁦桴⁥瑳牯⁹慷⁳湩愠猊牴湡敧愠摮琠瑯污挠湯牴獡⁴潴琠敨爠瑡敨⁲敤牰獥楳杮洠潯⁤景琠敨攠摮‮汁桴畯桧䤠攊橮祯摥琠敨漠敶慲汬瀠牥潦浲湡散‬桴獩氠獡⁴楢⁴⁉桴湩敬瑦洠⁥⁡楬瑴敬甊獮瑡獩楦摥‮⼼㹰ਊℼⴭ湅䙤慲浧湥⵴㸭㰊戯摯㹹ਊ⼼瑨汭ਾ

Wednesday, March 4, 2009

Cirque Eloize

Well, I experienced that "other perspective" that I hoped for on Tuesday night. Our tickets confused the ushers at first but we were then guided to seats behind a white counter that typically is reserved for critics. While I was still a part of the audience, I was able to pretend that I had a different perspective because of my new placement in the theater.
The show opened with dramatic music and the eventual introduction of what I call the three MC's who provided comic relief between acts.
The semi-transparent curtain separated the foreground from the background on stage. It made another barrier between the audience and performers. The curtain was lifted at various times throughout the performance but I thought it was an interesting feature as I was asking myself "Is this real?" as if the performers were behind a TV screen.
The combination of the curtain and fog added a mysterious, eerie appeal. The show was bizarre. There was a variety of stunts, music and jokes which kept the audience entertained. I thought Act I was good until I saw Act II, which I thought was even better. I particularly liked the trampoline scene. Again the use of the curtains made this engaging as the audience had a limited perspective. This reminded me of a film shown in wide screen versus full screen. I always feel as though I'm missing something when I watch a film in wide screen. Why do the black bars above and below the picture have to be there? I assume that if there's something important, the camera will eventually pan. Yet I still want to know what's happening outside of the primary action. I felt the same way when watching the visually captivating trampoline jumpers. I wanted to know their tricks and see the behind the scenes, or in this case behind the black walls. Eventually, the curtains lowered and raised to reveal a bar near the ceiling that one of the performers grabbed before jumping back down. Rather than revealing something that would make the audience less impressed, this thin white bar allowed the jumper to jump higher, display his tricks and make the audience laugh louder.
I also enjoyed the xylophone scene and the objects dropping from the "sky." I'm still not sure what fell but I hoped that it would eventually downpour on stage because it was very neat to watch. This was also similar to the White Out dance performance with the unexpected, objects entering the stage.
It's really all about perspective. The audience in the balcony essentially has a different view than the front row who directly engaged with some of the performers. My perspective from the critics corner to the 2nd floor library allows me to expand my personal view into a collective opinion of yet another exciting show.

Tuesday, March 3, 2009

Crevasse in progress

The painting of a 3D crevasse, with help from Vivaldi . . .

Saturday, February 28, 2009

The art of architecture

How to build Frank Lloyd Wright's "Fallingwater" while an orchestra plays . . .

Fallingwater from Cristóbal Vila on Vimeo.

Friday, February 27, 2009

How to Build a Song

Reggie Watts builds a song layer by layer, on the spot, with looping technology!


Reggie Watts: Lost in the Options from Jakob Lodwick on Vimeo.

Thursday, February 26, 2009

Opera and story

Even though I said I would read Hawthorne's story "Rappaccini's Daughter" before seeing the opera by Daniel Catan, I did it the other way around, and I saw the second act before actually seeing the first. So I experienced this piece in almost the exact reverse order of its conception, which was fascinating to me as someone who's also composing operas. After the Friday performance, Mr. Catan took questions from the audience; immediately the question arose of adaptation. He eloquently summed up the central dilemma: as a composer you are trying to project the arc of the story, but you are also trying to give the singers beautiful words and melodies. He said a composer almost needs two separate writers: a poet and a dramatist. Very rarely do people (like Shakespeare) manage to combine the two. So Catan uses the poetic version of Hawthorne's story by Octavio Paz, and adapts it with the playwright Juan Tovar.

After learning this, then seeing the whole piece on Saturday, I could tell the joins: the drama spins along (with exposition provided by the maid), and then in the garden Giovanni and Beatriz sing awesome poetry. In some ways, opera has always been like this since Monteverdi in the 1600s. Recitative sections with fast singing (a distant ancestor of rap) move the plot along, while singers emote and reflect on their fates in beautiful, florid arias.

Another problem of adaptation is dramatic compression: in the story, Giovanni and Beatrice become gradually over the course of weeks, walking every day in the garden, although they can never touch. In opera, everything has to happen right away: love at first sight. Music can vividly capture that moment, but it's more difficult for music to show a steadily growing companionship. And these are some of the hard choices Catan had to make as he adapted the Hawthorne. But opera will live or die by its music, and here Catan succeeds with a vivid, moving, expressive score.

Opera

Stepping into the beautiful theater I prepared myself for some beautiful voices. I think my favorite kind of music is the kind that comes completely natural from someones body, without any kind of instrument's or object's help.

I felt that the voices were being ruined by the words they had to say in order for people to understand the storyline and plot. I wanted them to sing to me, not talk to me. I got goosebumps whenever they hit a note with full power and held it there, and I waited and hoped for another note to strike me even harder. My heart would melt. Their voices amazed me. How can someone that small make a noise that loud? I also enjoyed their acting, they make me feel what they felt.

I've never seen anything so intricate and gorgeous as the costumes and setting of the garden. The flower girls were so beautiful that I wanted to be them, but then realized how hard it would be to stay still like that for so long. I have no idea how they did that. I caught myself watching one of them for quite some time to see if she would move, not even her eyes moved except for her blinking. Very impressive.

I would've liked it more if I understood them and didn't have to read the subtitles. It took me away from the emotion and actions of the characters. But then I got to thinking if it would be as beautiful and sound as good in english? Maybe they did that on purpose? Maybe not. I'm not sure what the norm is for operas. I would like to know.

The story almost reminded me of Romeo and Juliette. I guess similar to many love stories, but the impossible love that will only work if they run away, and then one mistakenly takes the poison and of course the other can't live without their love and also takes the poison.

Complete drama. Complete love. And I melt for it everytime.

Chamber music

Whenever I attend a classical music concert, I want the various musical pieces to be performed in chronological order.  Maybe it's the writer in me, but I like the "story" of musical change, from the baroque period to the classical, to the romantic era to modern music.  

This rarely happens, though.  One reason, I think, is that performers save the big piece for last, whatever its era.  And they also try to hide less popular music in the middle of a concert program, so that the audience won't clear out before the end.  This happened when the Wolf Quartett performed at Krannert: Alban Berg's Lyric Suite was stuck in the middle, just before the intermission.  Apparently, some music lovers still don't love twelve-tone music, even when it's written by Berg, one of the most "romantic" of the twelve-tone composers.  During the intermission, I overheard more than a few folks complaining about the piece.

Which amazed me, because I thought it was the high point of the concert.  The Haydn quartet beginning the concert was perfectly fine.  It was "chamber music" of a certain sort--elegant and witty, its passion held mostly in check, and I could imagine listeners of the late eighteenth century sitting primly on seats, or wandering quietly about the musicians, tea cups in hand.  All very polite (though other of Haydn's work is more than fiery).  The Schubert quartet, which hails from the early nineteenth century, was brawny, heartfelt, and complex romantic music, straining against the strictures of classical form.  But still chamber music.

This gravitational tug of form and content is in an entirely different sphere in Berg's Lyric Suite, from the early twentieth century.  The music  seems to ache, so charged with emotion that one would miss the form (which, being a version of twelve-tone music, must be strict).  But what amazed me most was the story behind the music.  Apparently, Berg was having an affair, and he coded into the music itself his initials and that of his lover, and the last movement is even secretly fitted to an apt sonnet by the French poet Baudelaire.  Again, it's the writer in me, but this tormented secret story transformed the music.  This no longer seemed like public "chamber music," but more like music resonating in the chamber of the composer's mind.  No tea drinking when this is playing!  I was also struck that the secret correspondences of the music remained unknown for 50 years, until a musical scholar's analysis (and documentary evidence) brought it all to light.  Even the most elaborate disguise contains the code to its own unravelling.

Wednesday, February 25, 2009

The Opera

My vision of the art world expanded with Friday night's performance of Rappaccini's Daughter. I went in with no expectations. I wasn't too familiar with the story either. So I went in as a blank slate.
The first thing I noticed was the background on stage. The high platform and use of stairs gave the illusion of multiple rooms, spaces for the performers to use. Even though there was no wall, the metal frame in the bedroom that was opened and closed suggested a window that looked out upon the garden. The garden was a whole different story! The flowers and plants that were actually people dressed in costumes were incredible. I can't imagine holding a pose throughout entire scenes. It did not seem like a comfortable position but definitely a neat perspective as they didn't have to worry as much about singing but rather placement and appearance to the audience. That is something I would like to do, especially in a movie. I want to be there on set, a part of the scene without having a speaking role or major pressure to act. I guess I wouldn't mind being behind the scenes but I would really like to gain that experience and see a movie or performance from an alternate perspective. The preparation towards the production fascinates me as much as the actual show.
The opera itself was at times hard to follow because of the Spanish and then need to look up at the subtitles. I occasionally found myself ignoring the subtitles and just watching the performer's expressions. That was a story in itself.
I did skim over Nathaniel Hawthorne's story and found that I was missing the background and the details from the story. Not everything can translate over to a performance, especially an opera. But I felt as I was watching it that something was missing. The story filled in some blanks and the ending either way--text or opera-- was dramatic. There were scientific, moral and love elements which made the story relatable to various audiences but for me I wish I had a richer understanding of the plot before being thrown into the opera setting.

Tuesday, February 24, 2009

Graffiti comes alive!

Another example of intriguing combinations that spark art, in this case stop-action film as living graffiti. This video is by Blu (for more info, see http://www.blublu.org/blog/).



MUTO a wall-painted animation by BLU from blu on Vimeo.

Monday, February 23, 2009

Cirque Eloize preview!

Looks pretty good, doesn't it? Should be a great show . . .

Sunday, February 22, 2009

Rappaccini's Daughter, by Nathaniel Hawthorne

Rappaccini's Daughter, in a free e-book version from Project Gutenberg, a repository of over 27,000 out-of-copyright books. It's interesting to compare the story with the opera, which I finally saw on Saturday!

Saturday, February 21, 2009

NY Times column with Eve Ensler

Here is a very disturbing column by Bob Herbert, on a horrifying war against women and girls in the Congo. He mentions Eve Ensler (Necessary Targets) who is trying to draw attention to this atrocity.

It is as if, in these particular instances, some window to what we think of as our common humanity had been closed. As The Times’s Jeffrey Gettleman, on assignment in Congo, wrote last fall:

“Many of these rapes have been marked by a level of brutality that is shocking even by the twisted standards of a place riven by civil war and haunted by warlords and drug-crazed child soldiers.”

Dr. Mukwege visited me at The Times last week. He was accompanied by the playwright, Eve Ensler, who has been passionate in her efforts to bring attention and assistance to the women of Congo.

Thursday, February 19, 2009

Wii across the Alps

One essence of art: to combine what hasn't been combined before. In this case, two German fellows have managed to connect their Wii to Google Earth, so now they can surf the Alps!

Another fabulous video! This one is 6,000 separate paintings, composed over two years that, combined, becomes a heart pounding video.  

 



Khoda from Reza Dolatabadi on Vimeo.

Article on the Opera

I was just reading Buzz magazine that came out today and saw an article about tomorrow's opera performance:
http://the217.com/articles/view/opera_rappaccini_s_daughter_opens_at_kcpa

Thought it might be interesting to read, especially if you can't go to get another perspective!

Wednesday, February 18, 2009

New Music Ensemble

Seeing more than half the seats empty in the huge theater I felt very small sitting down next to Lauren. 

The whole concert, especially the pieces with instruments, gave me a vivid image of Walt Disney's 'Fantasia'. The first piece very much reminded me of the part in fantasia showing the dinosaurs. It made me think of dinosaurs fighting each other, trying to find food, and to survive in the horrid weather. I was always looking for a melody, and once I expected one to soon come, it ended abruptly. 

The second piece made me jump out of my seat... twice. The lights turned off and I thought it would be just for a second then realized it was the new setting for the next song. The song made me believe I was in a horror movie. I half-expected people to pop out of the walls and attack us. It was a new world. I imagined I was in a spooky old house, with the walls creeking, then outside with crazy insects and monsters running around me. Finally, it stopped, and I was back to the comfort of my seat. 

Another piece used similar background music to the piece I just talked about, except it had a Tuba player playing along with it. I found it amazing how adding one new sound to a song completely changes the vibes I get from it. It sounded vibrant, like the Tuba was the hero in the story, and I followed it through the quest for righteousness. 

All of the songs I heard gave me vivid pictures in my mind and strong feelings. I would probably never want to listen to these songs for my own pleasure, but I did enjoy thinking and feeling things that other sounds and songs haven't done for me. It was a different kind of music and I'm glad I got to experience it. 

New Music Ensemble

I'm unable to attend "Necessary Targets" so I'm anxious to hear about that performance but I did attend the Tuesday night concert, so here's my response:

Earlier this year I sat in the Foellinger Great Hall of Krannert for my roommate's concert band performance. While I sat in the comfortable tan seats again, I felt as though I had graduated to a new level of music. The New Music Ensemble brought the use of instruments and the incorporation of pre-recorded electronic music to my attention. I was particularly frightened at first during the second piece when the lights dimmed and the music began playing through speakers. The volume and change in pitch made me jump out of my seat as it was unexpected. It was like I had just turned the corner at a Haunted House and even though no scream came from my mouth, my body language suggested that I was definitely surprised. I could pretend that I wasn't but Luna was sitting next to me and I think we both had a similar reaction.

Phillip Blume's piano solo was not my favorite of all the pieces. He warned the audience that the piece would be sparse and indeed it was. It just wasn't my type of piano solo. I do give him credit though because it was different and made me think why he was playing the way he was. The striking of a single key at a time was dramatic but didn't engage my attention for very long.

The final piece, which I believe was titled "A San Francisco Night," turned out to be my favorite not only because of the music but the incorporation of multiple musicians. I enjoy watching the musicians throughout the piece to see their reaction and determination to stay focused. It was a bold yet lighter piece that didn't have me jumping out of my seat but caught my attention.

Finally, I liked when the composers stood in the audience after their piece. I felt a stronger connection to the music that was played after seeing the man who wrote it. You could tell that it was an accomplishment to not only hear it but be sitting among an audience who is also sharing in your hard work.

Tuesday, February 17, 2009

The mind in the dancer's body

I too loved the "White Out" performances.  I've seen a lot of dance companies, and I often find myself doing a funny little ritual at the beginning of each dance.  I count the number of dancers, and note how many are women, how many men.  Eight, I think, or twelve, or six, and then I try to keep track of who's on stage, who's not.  But only if I'm bored, if the choreography doesn't engage me.

At "White Out," I lost track of the dancers and enjoyed the dances, the wild family gathering of "Pass the Goddamn Butter"; the haunting blend of dance and paper art sculptures in "Paper Song," which seemed to me to be about mourning and the afterlife (though the stage imagery is expansive enough to invite numerous interpretations); and the wacky energy of "Getting There," which ran as an anthology of dance styles held together by both sly and broad humor.

My favorite, though, was "Trigger."  I loved how the choreographer's voice spoke about the dance he'd choreographed, how he said he was mainly interested in the minds of the dancers, but when he asked them to speak into a microphone on stage to express their feelings about the dance, he almost immediately cut them off!  Now that's an unreliable narrator . . .

That dance reminded me of my own past with dance.  In the way, way back, when I was a sophomore in college, my then girlfriend, a sophisticated daughter of a diplomat, took me to my first dance performance, an interpretation of Stravinsky's "The Rite of Spring" by the Béjart dance company from France.  The event stunned me, and I decided I wanted to write about it, so the following year I took dance classes, and a music class as well as my usual writing workshop, and tried to write a long story about a dance performance, from the perspective of the dancers and the musicians.  The less said about that little project the better.

But strangely enough, my future writing ended up being deeply influenced by taking dance.  As a "mind in a body" being ordered about on stage by choreographers, I felt myself as a participant in a three-dimensional story, moving about the other characters.  This taught me a lot about how to create scenes in fiction, which have their own choreography.  Learning how to move "in time" with music helped me begin to develop a sense of rhythm in my written sentences.  And learning about the structure of music taught me much about how important structure is in works of fiction.  Eventually, my studies of the structure of Bartok's 4th string quartet influenced the way I put together my second book, The Art of the Knock: Stories.

So, I'm delighted to read the students' posts, how so many different art forms you're being introduced to excite you.  Their influences may make their way into your future in unexpected ways!

Wednesday, February 11, 2009

A Week of Firsts

I enjoyed White Out because it was my first true modern dance experience. At some points, I was antsy because I didn't know what was coming or how long each dance would be. By the second or third dance, I was more relaxed and willing to get engaged in the story that was being danced before my eyes.

I have to agree with Bryan's post though as we did see the performance a week ago, so it is not as fresh in mind as I would like which is also why I'm going to focus on the Chinese Acrobats.

This class has been a "first" for me in many ways as I have experienced performances and discussions that I have had nowhere else. Tuesday night, the Chinese Acrobat performance was no exception. The contorting bodies, choreographed movements and colorful costumes amazed me. While I would be in severe pain after completing many of the acts, the performers appeared happy or at least they had a smile on their face. Obviously, they have trained, prepared, rehearsed and so on but I still think I would be a little bent out of shape (no pun intended) after a performance of this nature.

The audience "ooohh"ed and "ahh"ed in sync as the performers did a variety of stunts. As I looked around, there were a variety of ages in the audience, which attests to the universality of art. This performance was art in my mind because of the talent and the performer's intent to convey a type of story through the music and costumes that usually corresponded with gender. Steve pointed out that the women performed during more "flowery" songs while the men were like warriors with a stronger beat.

My favorite act was the women on the bicycles. I imagined an invisible circular track that the thin metal bicycles fit on as more and more performers hopped on the bike. It was incredible and nerve racking because the last thing I wanted was for someone to fall off! But I think that is part of the experience. The majority of the audience can't do what each of those performers did and yet we still think there is a chance of failure but are suddenly surprised when everything goes smoothly making us gasp even louder.

White Out

Walking into a new theater, I realized I was also walking into a new world, one I've never been in before.

The first piece, 'pass the goddam butter' was ravishing. I greatly enjoyed the hectic atmosphere of many people in a small space, with everyone trying to be unique in their own quirky way. It made me think about my family gatherings. With the youngest being 4 and the oldest being 70, 20 people and a dog running around the house trying to make themselves know. It is the most chaotic time of year, but also the most fun. In the piece I saw people creating new dance moves, and others copying moves. Exactly like my family, everyone meshing together, just a mess. The table was my favorite part of the whole show. The way they made intense rhythms with their utensils, cups, and plates made my heart throb to he beat. The surprising screams, falls, and jumps from randoms at the table kept me at the edge of my seat. I was sad when I realized it was over.

My second favorite piece was 'getting there' with my favorite part being when the giant strawberry fell out of the sky. It was surprising, beautiful, intense, and outright hilarious. Again, this piece made me think of kids going crazy. The girl picked up the strawberry like it was her long lost baby doll and protected it from the boy, who only wanted it because she had it. This story went in and out of the main plot and made me laugh out loud every time. I love watching each character with their own unique personalities.

I'm glad I stepped into that world.

Bryan Anderson: White Out

Although I have seen many brief dance performances in events such as musicals and movies, I have never seen a performance devoted spcifically to dance. I therefore was very excited to see White Out at the Krannert Center. 

I rushed there, slightly late, hoping to see the silent performance in the lobby area. Unofrtunately, I didn't leave myself enough time. Slightly irked, I proceded into the main performing area. I had never been in this particular venue, and, I must say, it was rather unexpected and amazing in its size. 

The four performances presented were all unique and interesting. The first performance, Pass The Goddam Butter, was by far my favorite. The "family" presented was extremely entertaining in that they were all rhythmically connected but at the same time each maintained an idividual personality. My favorite member was the drunk girl, who periodically would stand on something and laugh maniacally. I sort of wish I knew someone like that to make life a bit more entertaining. 

Paper Song was also very entertaining. The dancers themselves were were elegant, their movements very much reminding me of water. Their use of paper was also extroidinary. I recall that when the dozens of paper cranes descended from the ceiling, I did not even realize they were there until they had nearly completed to descent. It was subtle to the point of having an illusory feel that effectively enhanced the performance of the dancers. The use of hundreds of paper airplanes was also quite memorable. The scene reminded me of how I have always longed to throw a bunch of the planes off of a high roof and stare as I guess which direction the wind wil take them next.

My least favorite of the four performances was the experimental Trigger. Although I would not say that I did not enjoy it, it's strange narration style coupled with the partial breaking of the fourth wall was not exactly working for me. I think this feeling comes from a preconception that a dance performance should be minimally vocal in order to maximize effectiveness. 

I am writing this a week later, which is proving to be a problem. I cannnot all remember Getting There! I remember liking it. I wish I knew why. 

Thursday, February 5, 2009

David Bowie - Andy Warhol

Warhol at KAM

I knew nothing of Warhol coming into the exhibit at KAM, so I was not entirely sure what to expect. When I first walked though the exhibit, the first thing I noticed was that there were not 157 (or whatever the number was) photos. I looked back at the description of the exhibit and found that I had misread the advertisement. The exhibit was a sampling, not the entire collection. Slightly miffed that I had set aside way more time than was needed, I still set off looking forward to what I was going to see.

As I examined many of the photos, the thing that struck me the most were the close ups of the various people. There seemed to be a lot of subtle but still intense emotion behind all of them. The most stricking photos had the subject appear extremely white and perhaps even somewhat undead. Sometimes this effect, at first glance, appeared to be a camera setting, make-up, or a mix of both. Other times the effect seemed very natural, further increasing the intense and mildly creepy feeling that I perceived from the photo. One photo in particular (possibly with the subject's name being Pia Miller?) vaguely reminded me of a young Stevie Nicks. This made me think of my mom, as I wondered if she would agree with me. 

The photo that struck me the most was the one of Santa Claus. What I noticed first about the subject was that the facial expression did not give off a feeling of warmth at all. Instead, Santa seemed, to me at least, tired, sickly, and seemingly almost in a state of mild pain. Any sense of "jolliness" was absent. I suppose this rather negative perception is likely influenced by my less-than-approving attitude of what a modern American Christmas represents. I hold the increasingy mainstream view (but, apparently, not mainstream enough to change any mass habits) that Christmas has boiled down from a time of religion and family to one of flashy consumerism and fleeting generosity. The photo of the tired and sickly Santa seemed to personify this problem for me. 

Wednesday, February 4, 2009

Warhol Exhibit

The Andy Warhol exhibit at KAM opened my eyes to a new side of Andy Warhol. When I think of his work, I imagine bright colors, icons revealing a face or image that has been modified from the original. However in this exhibit, the use of Polaroids and silver gelatin prints are raw. I felt that the subjects in the photos were exposed. As printed in the Warhol booklet, “everybody becomes a celebrity” through the method of capturing portraits with a Polaroid camera. To be honest, I didn’t recognize many of the “identified” people at first because of their makeup and natural facial expressions. When I went through the exhibit, a woman near me said how frightening she thought some of the celebrity women looked. We are accustomed to seeing smiling, airbrushed faces. Yet Warhol captures moments that aren’t the most glamorous. I would argue though that there is a natural beauty and unique human nature quality that shines through.

I was especially attracted to the “unidentified people” because I felt that those people represented the average man or woman in their element. The black and white image of the unidentified man with a camera around his neck caught my eye. The man is looking away from the camera with his hands in his pockets as if just taking a moment to himself. I think it’s difficult to capture everyday moments. Further this selection of photos no doubt allows more people to relate to the celebrities or unidentified people but definitely to those that are not known. This photographer or man with a camera has a background story that doesn’t necessarily come through the image. I think the audience can decide who he is or where he is going. Maybe that isn’t even his camera…he may be holding it for a friend, looking off into the distance wondering when he will return.

Andy Warhol’s Polaroids and Portraits was not was I expected but I think I needed to see this side of his work to gain a greater understanding of how he became such a famous artist.

Thursday, January 29, 2009

Bryan Anderson, LeAnne Howe response

I have been to the theatre a few dozen times so far in my life. Every time I have gone, I have seen one of three types of performances: a play, a musical, or a concert of sorts. I therefore was quite unsure what to expect from LeAnne Howe's one-woman show "Choctalking." 

Once the show began, I found myself in a sort of "active scan" mode trying to determine what particular part of the performance is the deciding point for me. This strategy, I realize now, really almost defeated the whole purpose of finding a moment. Possibly as a result of this constant scanning, I never really did have a deciding moment during the performance. Partially, though, I feel as though I never got the chance. The entire performance was only about one hour long, half of what I was subconsciously. I feel as though I was holding out for something, expecting it to occur later in the performance. 

I suppose since I did not have a particular deciding moment, I can only reflect on some of the smaller things that jumped out at me. The first thing that I noticed was her "acting attitude." She seemed tired, as though she had told her story so many times that she was almost at a point of questioning it. Whether this particular rhetorical feel was intentional or not, it definitely had an effect in how I perceived the performance. Whether this effect was positive or negative, I am honestly not entirely sure. 

The structure in which she told her various experiences was also something that I am ambivalent about. This stories taken as whole seemed rather interesting, but the constant jumping between them created a type of choas that did not work well for me. I kept having a problem where my mind would wander for a moment only to find that the performer had again changed stories. I noticed that she read from a text, and I feel like if I read the text rather than having seen it performed, the chaos factor would have been decreased. I suppose it also would have helped if I was just able to focus my mind on what was going on, which is obviously a fault of my own. 

I suppose the "best" moment for me was the ending scene when all the emotion was derived from each story and combined into a sigular boisterous culmination. Even this scene though seemed to have an aire of exhaustion similar to the one I mentioned in the beginning. Whether or not this was the attention, again, remains unknown.

Running and Chcotalking

LeAnne Howe’s one-woman show last Saturday, “Choctalking,” was alternately intriguing, confusing, riveting, and a hard-to-describe feeling of something missing - like a nearly complete jigsaw puzzle missing a vital piece. What stayed with me the most in the days after the performance was the idea of running. Howe was running from her religious schoolteacher, running after a woman in Gaza, running to help in the airport cafeteria in Oklahoma. These different episodes and many others followed each other out of sequence, as if Howe was “unstuck in time,” like Kurt Vonnegut’s Billy Pilgrim in Slaughterhouse Five. The vignettes returned over and over, becoming more ramified in each telling, reinforced with video clips and audio montages. These multimedia elements were some of the most successful. It’s difficult to make multimedia that adds to an artistic performance, instead of being a distraction.

Running is the main link in “Choctalking.” In the Q and A afterwards, Howe said it was her way into the work - that now, having finished it, she could finally stop running. That’s a powerful image. But the running seems to happen for different reasons at these different times in her life, and I’m not sure if it’s a powerful enough link to tie the whole performance together. I didn’t get the sense that the work made a unified, coherent statement: it felt instead like a bunch of vignettes unstuck in time, loosely tied together. Why did she jump in time from her childhood, to the Oklahoma diner, to Gaza? I was never entirely sure. At the end she burst out in a peroration - I can’t remember the exact words - against discrimination, of all kinds. Again, it’s loosely tied to her experiences as a young girl in the Oklahoma religious school, the Oklahoma airport diner, the people she met in Gaza. But I got the feeling that these things were all contingent - they happened because of the circumstances that Howe has encountered in her life - she was trying to make sense of these circumstances. And discrimination is too vast a subject, too indiscriminate in its crushing power, to be the main insight of these vignettes. She’s almost got it - I feel she’s getting close to the shape of her life - but it still feels to me as if she’s grasping for meaning, trying to force meaning out of the contingencies of life, instead of discovering it.

Wednesday, January 28, 2009

Life after the Speech Bubble

Ok, I'm putting myself out there by posting this...so I hope it makes sense!


A white speech bubble appeared on the projection screen. My ears followed the special effects sound as I looked up to dark wall. The word “What?” flashed before my eyes. Before I had time to find a meaning for “What?” the audience erupted in laughter. The characteristic silence of the audience was shattered. I sat more upright in my Studio Theatre seat.

My mind traveled backward in time as I tried to remember what I read in the program that was handed to me just forty-five minutes earlier. I wasn’t sure if LeAnne Howe’s Choctalking on Other Realities was a comedy because the beginning of the performance took a serious, narrative style.

I rejoined the audience with a few giggles. I wasn’t exactly sure why everyone else was laughing because I had been lost in thought for part of the performance. I was absorbing all of the multimedia aspects of the show from sound to lighting to the video projection. Professor Howe’s words made the show, but for me, at times her speech simply complemented the other elements illuminating the theatre.

The speech bubble reminded me of returning home for Christmas break this year to my family who had continued life without me. I secretly hoped I wouldn’t miss anything going on in our suburban town or within the walls of our four-bedroom home, but not all wishes come true. Life had continued on in the Whalley house for the past four months. At each family dinner, more “inside jokes” were revealed that caused both of my sisters to finish each other’s sentences and then laugh for the next five minutes. I tried to chime in but I couldn’t place that movie phrase, or piece of dialogue in any of my memories. “Oh Lauren, this happened at Papa’s birthday party…so everyone was gathered around the table…” I tuned out my sister’s attempt to include the college girl into the conversation.

LeAnne Howe’s experience as a citizen of the Choctaw Nation of Oklahoma could leave many people out of the loop and unable to relate but her fiction and this performance in particular was interesting because while I didn’t grasp each detail, I especially appreciated the “running” metaphor. Her show led my mind in directions that I hadn’t anticipated and I’m grateful for that. The “What?” made me go “WHAT?!” but I needed that to jolt my attention back to the Studio Theatre.

Tuesday, January 27, 2009

that VOICE reading

Just to confirm from the email Philip Graham sent earlier today - the VOICE reading series is not this evening, but instead February 27. So please write your 400-word post on Professor Howe's performance for Thursday's class. See you then!

Monday, January 26, 2009

Hello!

Hi everyone! I am very happy that I finally figured out how to post on this site. I am definitely technologically impared:) Well, my name is Maggie Sack, and I am from Elmhurst, Il. I am currently an English major, but I am also deciding to double major in creative writing. In high school, I was an editor for our school newspaper and was published in our literary magazine. Also, I was the captain of my cross country and track team. I am very excited about this class because I have great interest in artistic endevours! See you in class!

Thursday, January 22, 2009

Dispatch assignment

In the spirit of Philip Graham's Dispatches from Lisbon, before next Thursday's class we'd like you to post here (or on paper) your impressions from either of the upcoming two events: LeAnne Howe's performance on Saturday night in KCPA's Studio Theatre, or next Tuesday's VOICE reading at KAM. These, like most evening events on campus, begin at 7:30 pm.

Keep your post short and focused, no more than 400 words. As Philip said, "the one moment in the piece that cuts; that delights; when you realize you’re about to fall asleep." Be open to things that resonate in your own life experience.

If you're ambitious, you can try to write both events, but keep in mind the 400 word count. Good luck!

LeAnne Howe on The Daily Show

In May 2007, The Daily Show featured a segment on Chief Illinwek featuring LeAnne Howe, the artist we'll see this Saturday.


Notes to Soothe the Savage Cells



Here's a link to an interesting article in the New York Times by a man fighting cancer, who lists and describes the music he's listening to.  He feels this is helping him cope with his health struggles.  An unusual range that includes Johnny Cash, Mastodon, Howlin' Wolf and Jeff Buckley.  Can art help us get better?  




About Bryan Anderson

Hello Everyone.

My name is Bryan Anderson. My first home is in Homer Glen, Illinois, which is situated southwest of Chicago, near Joliet.

From what I recall from my farthest memories, I have always held a deep interest in culture of virtually any kind. Whether the prominent minds of ancient Rome, or the destitute farmers of modern India, I house a longing to understand the countless perspectives that life has provided for on this planet.

This desire has manifested itself in my currently chosen major: Anthropology. This aspiration guided me to choose Anthropology in the same way that it guided me to partake in this class. FAA 199 seems as though it may be the perfect class for someone like me. From what has been presented thus far, it appears that this exploration will provide a relative microburst of invaluable perspectives facilitated through various means, a proverbial goldmine. Having said that, there really is no event in particular I would prefer to attend. Each experience, regardless of whether I enjoy it or not, will have value. 

I am reading this, and I realize that it is...flowery...and...self-indulgent. I apologize.