Category — Emily

As soon as I saw the stage light up at BAM, my imagination was captivated. The music and light from the first scene created a serene atmosphere and I was reminded of the ocean, as if the dancers themselves were placed on the shores of Africa. When I watch dance performances, my mind usually lingers, and linger it did in a sense, but my eyes were still drawn to the stage. My favorite part of the performance, done by the Urban Bush Women and Compagnie Jant-Bi, was when a group of guys came on stage. This was partly because from afar, before that I could not entirely tell which of the performers were male or female. The men danced raucously but with graceful and synchronized movements. [Read more →]

At an instant, when Sam Freedman visited our classroom, one could tell he was dedicated and humble. Barely late at all, he was apologetic of running a bit behind, despite countless valid excuses. What a busy man! I believe a lot of his energy and drive contribute to his successes as a writer, teacher, and human being. When he began speaking about his novel, one could tell he was kind, despite what could be considered mean about his nature towards his mother in “Who She Was.” He spoke as an author should, with words full of color. One thing that struck me as odd was the repetition of the word obscure to describe his mother. It is such an honest word, but I would have used it to negatively describe someone whose character I find to be slightly off, yet he used the word without remorse, as if it was in full of meaning, but dead in the way I am used to. [Read more →]

On April 23^rd, 1958, my father, Joseph Andrew Musgrove, was born in Washington, D.C., and then lived in Oxon Hill, Maryland, a short walk away from Southeast D.C.  He was one of five boys born to Tom Hardwick Musgrove and Dorothy Hall Musgrove, as part of the Baby Boomer generation. Each of the brothers is two years apart in age and he is the second youngest. His father was in the Navy and he met my grandmother in Virginia at Colonial Beach by the Dahlgren Naval Station. My grandmother grew up in Washington D.C. but my grandfather came out of poverty in Newton, Georgia. That region is so poor that the Great Depression changed nothing for his family because they could not get any more impoverished. The first house my father lived in was a two bedroom, one bathroom triplex, undersized for seven people and a dog, so it’s understandable why he says, “I don’t think it ever crossed my parents mind to move because the neighborhood was going to change. I think it was just time. … We definitely needed more space.” [Read more →]

Glass Ingots from Uluburun Shipwreck

Falcon Pendant

Standing outside of the Met for the first time, I wondered what lay ahead.  Despite the construction near the steps, the museum still appeared majestic.  The large scale of the pale sandy colored building reminded me of many of the museums I have been to in Washington, D.C., of which if I had never visited before, the Met may have appeared like a castle to me.  Of course, the inside of the museum was even more beautiful.  The high ceilings and the Greek columns gave the museum an open and airy feeling, and the lighting, which overall was bright but not harsh imbued the impression of a place not to be missed.  My friends and I even noted the elegance of the staircases, which were simple and sleek, and I haven’t even gotten started on the Met’s art. [Read more →]

Frances Richey seemed more like a peer than a superior, stylishly wearing a vivid purple knit cardigan with a matching shirt and a belt around her waist.  Even her ornate earrings seemed unexpected to me to be worn by a middle-aged woman.  Regardless, I immediately knew that she had flair and I hoped her personality matched her creative style that initially drew me in.  She created a humble and compassionate atmosphere by greeting students arriving late with a “Thank you for coming, I’m glad you made it.” Instead of feeling irritated or set back, she happily volunteered to fill them in on the material they had missed. [Read more →]

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City Lights

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As one can imagine, I expected the hip-hop musical Clay to be like nothing I had ever seen before.  Not only was it anything but ordinary, it also went above and beyond my expectations.  With a song about sleeping with his stepmother, the main man Clifford certainly has a few surprises up his hoodie sleeves.  This one-man musical was intensely entertaining.  [Read more →]

Even though his photography is black and white instead of color, Cornell Capa’s photography caught my eye at the ICP exhibit.  The contrast between light and dark in his photographs brings out different textures and adds movement in his art.  His photographs are not as much art however, as they are an act of humanitarianism.  Capa captured images in a journalistic approach.  He intended to educate the world with his photos.  His subjects often included people in countries with political turmoil, mostly in Central America. [Read more →]

At first, I didn’t know how to respond to Jeff Mermelstein as he began to prepare his old-fashioned slides for our class. He seemed a little confused and I was nervous that he was going to turn out to be a grumpy old man. I was half-expecting a boring presentation, one slide after another with a few monotonous descriptions of when and where each photograph was taken. Then, Jeff Mermelstein began to describe, with fervor, his experience with being a street photographer. All of my predictions were proven wrong. His use of language was vivid as he spoke of his love of color photography. He mentioned how seductive color photography is to him, like “colored M&M’s.” [Read more →]