Category — DTai

A man walks in with a plain look on his face, plain pair of shoes, plain pair of pants, and a Hawaiian shirt walks to the front of the room. He puckers up, as he gets ready to read his story. Richard Price is a peculiar man who stands out from the crowd and he does so extremely well. He began the evening with a short read from his book Lush Life, but not before cracking several jokes that result in a riotous burst of laughter from the crowd-this would be one of many.

Richard Price spoke with such eloquence and dictation that many other people lack in their reading. He spoke with a rhythm that represented a drumbeat; every word and noise that he made had a certain flow to it. Richard Price rarely stopped to catch his breath, so as to not to detract from his rhythmic speech. He also is able to bring life to the characters because he knows who the characters are and he knows what kind of persona each one takes on.

The best part of the evening was after his reading. As the questions formed and bombarded Richard Price, he responded with witty remarks, interjecting humor whenever possible. During the question period of the night I noticed Price’s wit when he made several social commentaries as he answered a question. At one point he commented on New Jersey cops stating that all you needed to do was buy them a drink and they will probably shoot someone for you. Price used humor and even a little bit of sarcasm to answer the question in an entertaining way; however, most profound was the way he comments on the morality of New Jersey cops.

The night was a success and not as dull as I had imagined it to be. I had the idea that authors were people who revolved their lives around their novels, Price proved me wrong tonight. The way he engaged the audience in his reading and the level of depth he put in his research showed me another side of writing. Writing is much more than a skill; it is a trade that involves knowledge from various fields.

This past Friday I was part of different cultures coming together to discuss something we all had in common. As I was riding the Queen seven train to school two cops and a man walked onto the train. The cops were minding their own business and doing routine sweeps of the neighborhood. The other man who walked on the train seemed to be in an intense conversation regarding murder and cops. His style was unique and appeared as if he came from an urban area. He walked with swag and talked with words that I only heard in certain areas of New York. He finished his conversation on the phone by saying that the cops shot the girl. He talked with no regard to whom he was around and everyone heard his conversation. The cops engaged the man. I thought something serious was going to unfold because of the details of the man’s conversation; however, something out of the blue happened instead. The cop gave the man a quizzical look and laughed at his phone call. The man said he was talking about the movie Paranormal Activity; it turned out he was in an intense conversation discussing the ending of the movie. The man thought the movie ended in one way, while his friend thought the movie ended in another way. Thus, a discussion of the movies began. I could not help but to join in the conversation because I was sitting very close to them. A heated discussion ensued, which ended up with everyone coming to the conclusion that there were alternate endings. On the train three different cultures collided, the culture of law enforcement, the urban culture, and the rural Chinese culture. We all came together and discussed something we had in common.

Doing my part cleaning up the neighborhood, one tree at a time

From the curtains opening up to introduce the first scene and to the last applause the audience gave, Rigoletto was a feast for our senses. Although, the play may not have appealed to everyone in the audience it most certainly did not fail in bringing joy to our ears. The singing was eloquent and the actors projected their voices strongly. On top of the incredible singing were the fluid movements of the body that accompanied the singing. If none of these aspects of the play were appealing, then the plot itself was rich enough to send tremors down our body as we watched Rigoletto fall in the final scene.

Rigoletto is a tragedy about a hunchback jester who mocks the misery of others. He eventually has a taste of his own medicine when a curse is laid upon him. The jester, Rigoletto, has a beautiful daughter who he hides away from the world. We cannot help but to feel that tragedy shall befall the two in regards to his curse and in the way Rigoletto had so perfectly kept his daughter hidden away. The lasting stability of Rigoletto’s life brought about a sense of eeriness as we began to suspect that his life was too good to be true. The plot was an enriching experience that leaves the audience wondering what exactly was Verdi’s agenda and what message he was trying to send us.

The acting and singing brought the theater to life. Every actor hit their notes with powerful voices that brought chills through out the body. What was even more amazing was the way the actors moved so well as they projected their voices. It was not opera without someone hitting soprano notes and Rigoletto does not fail us in that aspect either. Rigoletto’s daughter sings many of her parts in the highest pitch. Her voice was awe-inspiring and her voice travels along the walls of the theater eventually reaching our ears.

The costumes and the stage was one of the first things that I noticed. Each scene was made so well that it seemed as if they imported an actual castle into the theater. No detail was left unnoticed. The lighting and the backdrop were positioned so the eyes would not be strained, instead our eyes gobbled up all the visual food that we were presented with. If the scenery were already not enough for our senses, then the costumes would take our senses to another level. Every costume was unique to each actor and was designed so we could immediately tell each person on the stage from one another.

Although, almost every part of this play was flawless, the experience would have been better enjoyed if we could have seen the facial expressions of each actor. There were issues with simply seeing the actors, but paying extra for better seats could easily solve this problem.

Every dollar is worth the investment in watching Rigoletto. The mix of singing, music, acting, and scenery creates an unforgettable experience that everyone should enjoy at least once in their lifetime. Even if it was another play it was the actors, musicians, and scenery that brought this play to life.

This weekend I experienced something that truly was mind blowing. As I was walking through my neighborhood I saw someone who stuck out like a sore thumb. There was a large group of Korean people walking down the block and I knew they were Korean by the language they were speaking. Right in the center of this large crowd I saw three older members who were wearing traditional Korean clothing. They were also speaking Korean with the younger youth they were surrounded by. The younger teenagers were wearing clothing that we would normally see on the streets. This was an interesting sight because not only was there a stark difference in age but also a difference in culture. The older people most likely came from Korea and decided to wear a more traditional outfit, while the younger kids definitely grew up in America. Everyone got along perfectly fine and it seemed like this cultural difference did not exist. The teenagers showed the older people a great amount of respect, constantly bowing to them and putting their heads down to show respect. Although, at first glance it seemed that this group would not get along, that is actually not true because everyone got along very well even though there was this generation gap. I was surprised that everyone in the group got along and thought that no matter how different or culturally different people were they could get along with proper effort.

Things were surely getting smoked tonight. The way the dancers at Fall for Dance were performing, the floor on which they treaded produced a smoky cloud. Every dance company produced a unique array of flavor and style that the audience could not help but to be mesmerized by the intrinsic dances that were performed.

The night was started off with an ear tantalizing dance called xover. The first thing that came to my attention was the unique choice of music. Although, the sounds seemed unnatural it had its own appeal. It conveyed a sense of confusion that mimicked the dancers. The choreographed movements were an array of what appeared to be random movements. This works well due to the fact that the movements flowed with the sounds that were being produced. The most enjoyable part of this dance was the connection that the dancers had with one another. Even on the second floor many feet away from the front row one could feel the closeness of all the dancers. They were not robotic but fluid like the water that drops from the sky each individual rain fall falling seamlessly and in the end creating the puddle that forms on the ground.

Not even the amount of energy produced by a bolt of lightning could compare to the amount of energy that was generated by the second performance. I Can See Myself in Your Pupil is an epic attack on our senses. One word would exemplify this dance and that word would be “crazy”. With rubber band like movements and upbeat music I was surprised that the audience did not break out in a euphoric frenzy and danced along the performers. Although, it may appear that technique was not a main focus of this particular performance, it actually exists in many of the “crazy” movements that the audience witnessed. The dancers had a great amount of flexibility and worked well with the upbeat music. Every twisted bone and broken joint hit the rhythm of the song in an impeccable fashion. Most enjoyable to watch were the interactions between the dancers on stage. If you are able to poke fun at your friends on stage and still to be able to throw a great performance, then surely magic has a part to play.

Vistarr had intriguing taste do to its cultural aspect. It was more organized and it drew attention to the hands of the dancers and not particularly any other body part. It seemed like the dancers followed one dancer and they all remained in a tight area. This performance was the most different from the other performances in that the music brought you back in time to another era. This dance was able to create a sense of nostalgia that left you longing for more of this traditional dance style. The dancers had a mindset that did not resemble the other dance companies. In fact the dancers all followed after one main dancer who was similar to a pack leader. The music itself could have held its ground as a separate piece. It was unique and struck the eardrums with a unique musical appetite.

The last performance was The Golden Section, which definitely deserved a section of its own. The costumes were an attractive bright yellow, which almost instantly called for attention. The main part of this performance that stood out the most was the particular theme of “golden” that was used. The lighting of the stage gradually grew more and more golden as the performance progressed. This added to the liveliness of the show and created a theme that was different from the other performances. Every dancer participated in this performance and that further added to the excitement of this performance.

Fall for Dance produced different extremes in terms of dance. It is definitely a show worth watching due to the different dance cultures that the audience was introduced to. The exceptional dance styles was an important factor that made this show what it was. If you are someone who enjoys the fine arts this show is one to watch.

http://english.people.com.cn/200702/18/eng20070218_351074.html

It was only recently that I discovered a big cultural gap between my parents and I. My parents grew up in a traditional era in China where kids must respect their elders with one hundred percent devotion. This may mean acting in an entire different way in the presence of elders and relatives. In American culture a simple hello or wave would suffice, as an introduction to one another, but in Chinese culture to do so would be rude. My mom would always tell me to address my relatives by their proper title. I would have to state their relation to me such as aunt, uncle, or grandmother and bow. To say their name would be an indecent action. I have made many mistakes in saying hello to my relatives and it eventually came to a point where I just stopped altogether. My parents always complained about how American culture changed me for the worse. They do not appreciate the American form of greeting believing that it does not fully address a person. My parents still abide by their form and greeting and often they would talk to their friends about how American children are so different. They talk about how in China filial piety rules dominant but in America this simply does not exist. My parents expect children to listen to parents no matter the situation even if we think our parents are wrong. There have been many instances where I have engaged in argument with my parents over the proper way of greeting. My reasoning is that a wave or hello is enough to acknowledge a person’s presence but they simply do not agree. Eventually we would come to a compromise and realize that no one was going to win an argument over culture.

“A tornado just hit Flushing…everything is in ruins!” This was the face book post that popped out on my wall as I sat at the Flushing library quietly doing my homework. As usual I put on my headphones and commenced my ritual of listening to music while I did homework. Everyone seemed pretty excited when the rain started pouring down but I ignored it, I mean it is just rain. Five minutes into my homework and everyone’s cell phone started going off. People are certainly popular today I thought, I wondered why no one was calling me however. Feeling at an all time low I slowly waddled out the door of the library and noticed that the rain had stopped to a drizzle. I felt calm and serene much like how a person would feel if they were to fall asleep with the sun bathing on their faces. I got on the bus and thought to myself today is a nice day to just relax.

“Why is there a broken tree on top of that house? And why are all the trees uprooted and wires broken?” These were the words I thought as I stood on my block staring at my neighbor’s house. I quickly ran to my friend’s house that lived a block away to check if he was okay. He was outside also staring at a house that was demolished by a large tree. We both stood side by side dumbfounded as water slowly made its trek down our faces replacing what should have been a sweat drop. It was at that moment that I realized anything could happen and that I was not as safe as I originally had thought. Someone just took a needle and popped the balloon I was living in. All of a sudden I felt a shock of anxiety and realized that I take many things for granted: my life, my family, my friends, school, and just life in general. At that moment I swear that I felt the sun poke its eyes out for a split second during the night; a ray illuminated a path to enlightenment. I looked at the dilapidated house and noticed the smell of the moist air and the pointy hedgehog limbs of the tree. It could have been me caught in this tornado and anything can happen. Many people live in a state of false security believing that nothing can happen to their lives; however, that is not true. It is an agreed upon consensus that it is virtually impossible for New York to get hit by high velocity winds that is comparable to a tornado. And I had believed this. It is wrong to believe that nothing will happen because anything can happen. I stayed out that night to see the extent of the damage and learned something new with every block I traveled on.

When I got home I sat on the computer and felt like a new person. Many of my thoughts were new as I read different articles on line. Today I finally grew up and was content that I had finally made the transformation. Right before I decided to call it a night I saw on my wall “A tornado just hit Flushing…everything is in ruins!” I smiled and I said to myself at least today my life is finally not in ruins.

Li wrote a powerful memoir and I was able to connect to him in many ways. Certain aspects of his life are common through out the Chinese community. His traditional father is something that I shared in common with him. His father did not value a close bond with his son and at his best his father would be nonchalant and at his worse he would put down Li. Li’s response was admirable and he did not allows his father’s critique and brutality get to him. Li persevered by entering his own world and attempted to obtain his father’s love at almost any means possible. His attempt seemed to be successful when him and his father connected at a political level, which all shattered once again. His relationship with his father is a rollercoaster of a ride with many ups and down, but it finally would end with an up.

Much of my life mimicked Li’s life. I as well desperately tried to obtain the approval of not just one parent but both my mother and father. It would seem that no matter how well I performed it just was not enough. They wanted more from me and pushed me to my limits. It was not until my later years that they gradually started to accept me for what I was. They let go of some of their tradition and embraced a more familial tie with me. It was this idea that the parents should not communicate with their children because parents function at another strata from their children. However, my parents soon let this go when I embraced them about their philosophy.

The Bitter Sea is an enticing read for those who can connect to Li. Much of his life and ordeals can be applied to anyone who has or is going through a struggle. Reading about his pain and jubilance brings hope to the hearts of many people such as myself. Although there may be many more themes to this novel, the message I got from Li was to be strong and endure no matter how much “bitterness” may exist in your life. In the end the bitterness we experience make the small things much more enjoyable.

Howard Greenberg

http://www.guardian.co.uk/arts/gallery/2008/apr/17/newyorkschoolHoward

Greenberg started off like any one of us. He was confused with his path in life and play around with his career choices. He thought his life was with psychology but life often plays a trick on us and little did he know his career was going to make a one-eighty turn. Through what it would seem to be a miraculous circumstance, a camera fell into his hands and Greenberg discovered a passion that grew with no bounds. Greenberg was different and many would say he was a pioneer in his time. He took that camera and did something with it. With a certain amount of creativity and ingenuity he shot photos and built his portfolio eventually establishing a name for himself. He was different because he put his faith in the course of life and allowed it to bring him to new places and experience new events. As a result Greenberg was able to build himself a prestigious reputation as he traveled to various places such as Woodstock to get his name out there. As of today Greenberg holds a world-famous exhibition known as the Howard Greenberg gallery on 57th street and continues to collect mid-century photography. Although he has mixed feelings for contemporary photography his fervor for the classics will never change.