Category — TDimaculangan

(http://www.pbs.org/kcet/tavissmiley/archive/200804/20080428_price.html)

Richard Price is not afraid to say that he has talent, and to be quite honest, he certainly does deserve the credit he gives himself. Through his talk with the audience members and answers to their questions, it became clear that he was well aware of his natural writing abilities. At the same time, he remained genuine and down to earth, never giving off the feeling that he was above anyone else in the room. In fact, he was rather funny, and while his blunt remarks often caused waves of laughter throughout the audience, his humor never appeared deliberate or forced.  When asked about his writing, he emphasized intuition, which seemed to play a large role not only in his work, but also in the way he carried himself and interacted with people. He was clearly not here to put on an act, and did not attempt to impress others with haughty responses to questions. Instead, his replies were candid and truthful, allowing the audience to feel comfortable with the esteemed and successful writer. For instance, he made a quick reference to some author, and then joked that he was quoting from a writer he had never even read before. Certainly, he could have left that detail out, but by mentioning it, one could see that he was truly a humble and comic man.

His humor was also evident in his writing, especially in the excerpt he read aloud from his latest work in progress. His repetition of the word “God” was just the touch that pushed the audience into hysteria. After his reading, I wondered how he learned to craft such an entertaining and clever style of writing. Later, when someone asked him that very question, I was not surprised that he did not accredit his sharp work to any of his former teachers. He claimed that they were only able to provide him with encouragement, which was enough for him to continue honing his writing skills. He also compared writing to running, describing it as something instinctive, rather than something that could be taught. While I always looked at writing as a skill developed through practice and learned techniques, I can tell that for Richard Price, it truly is an inborn gift.

(http://www.josephcalleja.com/media/photos.php)

As the ornate chandeliers on each side of the Metropolitan Opera ascended smoothly toward the ceiling, one could feel the audience’s eager anticipation spread throughout the room. The lights slowly dimmed, as the stage was illuminated and the orchestra prepared to begin. Finally, the curtains opened, leading the spectators into the world of Rigoletto, an opera that certainly could not have disappointed a soul.

The genuine laughter of a mirthful crowd introduced the audience to the first scene. The sound of their merriment and chortling appeared to be so authentic and true to the time period, that it allowed one to travel centuries back. The combination of the chorus’s gossiping and singing easily made their carefree and jovial energy contagious. In fact, whenever the chorus performed a song, the sweet hum of all their voices intertwining to form a melody seemed to overpower the moving effect that any solo had to offer.

Moreover, it is evident that much time and effort was put into costume design, as the costumes perfectly captured the delicate grandeur of Renaissance fashion.  Each actor’s attire also helped to highlight the essence of his character, especially when it came to the father and daughter. The elegant flow of Gilda’s ivory dress emphasized the endearing nature of her character, despite her foolishly sickening love for the duke. Meanwhile, Rigoletto’s modest attire and seemingly real hump mirrored his low status in society. This stressed his lack of power and even played a role in foreshadowing his tragic encounter with death.

The set, however, was equally, if not more striking. Interestingly, it was not the mere immensity of the structures on stage that were most impressive. Rather, it was the menacing clouds in the backdrop that truly caught one’s attention. It was almost as if one could see them moving across the sky. The threatening clouds’ realistically gray hue made one wonder when it was going to start pouring. In the third act, this question was finally answered. Though no water actually fell from the ceiling, the use of lighting to create the effect of lightning was convincing, and added to the intensifying drama of the last few scenes.

The orchestra was another critical asset to the show, which helped piece together each segment of the opera. While the intermissions threw the audience back into present day New York, the music that began every act allowed them to float on a wave of melodies that led them back into Italy in the 1500s. On the other hand, within the opera itself, the orchestra helped to accentuate the mood and flow of events. The orchestra’s effectiveness was seen most whenever it accompanied a moment of rising tension. Sometimes, the music would jump in speed, and at other times, it would rise in volume. Either way, it was able to accent the tension and anticipation that the various characters were experiencing.

As for individual performances, George Gagnidze, who played Rigoletto, certainly deserves recognition. Although he was suffering from a cold, he delivered each song with a vigor and smooth beauty one could not imagine possible coming from a sick individual. His first solo was particularly impressive, as his love and passion for Gilda seemed to pour out with every note he sang. While Gagnidze’s character ultimately falls victim to Monterone’s curse, he himself was able to overcome his own difficult circumstances, and successfully carried out his part in an opera that seemed spotless in nearly every aspect.

Photo taken by Brian Yee

As I warmed up with the girls, the tingling in my foot grew into a sharp sting. “Sara, it’s really starting to hurt,” I confided in my teammate. I continued to jog, wondering if I would actually race that day. “Maybe you shouldn’t run,” she suggested. I knew that was an option, but it was certainly not one that I was leaning towards. “You know what?” Sara continued, “Just scream out during the race if you’re in pain, and I’ll turn around to help you.”

“No!” Tamara’s voice broke in, “You are never supposed to do that.” I knew she was right. I learned this early on in my track career. During the cross-country championship in my freshman year of high school, I had a friend who was experiencing severe stomach pains during the competition. She was bent over, clutching tightly to her stomach, as if she were about to collapse at any moment. As she slowed down, I slowed down with her, but her reaction was rather unexpected. “Are you kidding?” she cried as she looked up at me, “Just go! Goooo!” Confused at first, I finally sped up, running past her through the steep hills of the concrete course.

At the time, the concept of abandoning a teammate was quite foreign to me. I was sure that Sara must have been just as bewildered to learn of this code. “Don’t worry,” I assured her, “It’s really important that you finish your race.” While the idea of leaving behind a teammate once seemed unethical, I now realize that in the competitive world of running, it’s not always wrong to go ahead.

(http://catedraluisalbertoalvarez.blogspot.com/2008/02/medea-de-pasolini.html)

Practice, practice, practice. A person who wants to do well in nearly any sort of an activity is bound to hear this piece of advice; performers are no exception. However, there seems to be more to reaching success than just constant repetition. In the reading of Medea, a part of the Joel Segall Great Works Reading Series, the cast demonstrated that perhaps true talent and a bit of creativity play an even larger role in putting together a dramatic, yet convincing show.

After speaking just a few lines, Kathleen Turco-Lyon, the Nurse, impressed the audience with the soothing wave of her classical voice. Despite her plain black attire, Turco-Lyon’s melodic intonation created an effortless transition from the 21^st century in New York City into ancient Greece. While she did not spend a great deal of time speaking, the consistent display of emotion seen in her facial expressions made her character an important asset to the performance. Through her painfully real looks of horror and distress, the grave seriousness of Medea’s situation easily became believable.

Denise Ann Pelletier, who played Medea also left the crowd with a lasting first impression. Though she was offstage when her character was introduced, her sorrowful cry was able to fill the theater with Medea’s bitter rage and sour despair. The shaking intensity of her character’s emotions was carried out through the rest of the reading. At the same time, however, she managed to do so in a very controlled manner, avoiding the melodrama that results from an overdone attempt at a challenging role.

Despite the actresses’ passion and moving effect on the audience, Jason, played by Bryn Magnus appeared completely detached from the performance. With the rough voice of a man who could very well be your next-door neighbor, it was clear that he had little experience with performing Greek plays. There were also one or two instances in which he fought with a line until it finally stumbled out of his mouth. Evidently, he was unable to connect with his character, just as the audience was unable to connect with him.

Though Magnus’s performance was not quite up to par with the others, there were other valuable aspects of the reading that outweighed this weakness. Those who worked on this performance were resourceful and were able to effectively incorporate the highlights of the original play into this condensed version. Although the use of actual children in the reading would have heightened the tension of Medea’s plot for revenge, the use of two masks in place of them was clever and surprisingly quite fitting. Since the actors fully embraced the shiny white masks as the children, it was not difficult as an audience member, to do the same.

Moreover, the decision to use the entire theater as the actors’ stage helped to sweep the spectators into the messy lives of the miserable characters. In the beginning of the play, the chorus stood up from among the audience members, and this tiny surprise certainly caught their attention. At times, actors also entered and exited scenes through the sides of the theater. Though it was not always convenient to turn around and see who was speaking or coming in, overall, this technique kept the audience attentive and interested during each transition from scene to scene.

While some might imagine the reading of a play, rehearsed for a mere 15 hours, to be raw and rather unpolished, this performance certainly went beyond such expectations. Though the reading was far from flawless, the majority of the actors’ skills allowed Medea’s tragic story to smoothly unfold. Innovatively performed, this reading of Medea was an entertaining storm of anger, frustration and merciless revenge.

(http://www.danzaballet.com/modules.php/files/files/modules.php?name=News&file=article&sid=3687)

When strikingly different types of stones come together to form a conglomerate rock, the result is often an impressive rainbow of color and texture. While some might learn to appreciate the overall beauty of such a rock, others might only favor certain parts of it. Fall for Dance, a show highlighting four diverse dance companies, created a similar effect on opening night, at the New York City Center. While some performances of this dance festival shined, the luster of those pieces seemed to overshadow the others.

The first performance was entitled “Xover,” performed by the Merce Cunningham Dance Company. The animal-like and sometimes robotic grace of the modern dancers took the crowd on a bizarre trip to the jungle and to what at times felt like outer space. While the dancers certainly had elegance and clearly had refined technique, the lack of music was more distracting than it was entertaining. The choreography was accompanied with a random series of noises, which was often the croaking voice of a woman. These moderately disturbing sounds did not provide a beat, making it difficult to connect the dancing with the background “music.” Moreover, the different choreography performed simultaneously weakened the dancers’ stage presence. Their disunity was ineffective, as it did not help an average spectator to make sense of the theme or point of the dance.

On the other hand, the following group, Gallim Dance, presented a more animated and jaunty performance. Their playfully energetic movement created a zesty atmosphere that could only be matched with the excitement of a child watching his first live circus act. The music jumped from jazzy to exotic, sometimes tasting tangy and even spicy. The dancers kept up with the liveliness of the music throughout the entire performance.  As they acrobatically bent, hopped, shook and glided through each segment of their dances, various stories seemed to unfold. Among them was a story of a man and woman, presumably a couple, who took turns chasing and catching each other. Though it was slightly sensual, their very theatrical movements kept it innocent and fun. Certainly, the audience members were captured by the rapture of this performance, for they gave Gallim Dance a well-deserved standing ovation.

Though this was a tough act to follow, Madhavi Mudgal very elegantly and successfully led the audience to the next performance, a traditional Indian dance. Five women took the spotlight, and began in perfect synchronization a very hand oriented choreography. The delicate and intricate motions of their hands provided a refreshingly sharp contrast from the previous dances. While the other performances seemed to highlight individuality, as seen in their choreography, this dance emphasized group unity. Together, they complimented the calming rhythms of the exotic music through the precision and symmetry of their formations and movements.

Meanwhile, the Miami City Ballet had quite a surprise in store. Though ballet is often thought of as slow and smooth, “The Golden Section” was quick and sprightly. The bright lights at the side of the stage accentuated the gold of the dancers’ fitted costumes, as well as their cheerleader-like energy. Their pirouettes, leaps and classic ballet moves were effortlessly performed at a heightened speed, giving the dance a crisp modern edge.

Although it was clear that Fall for Dance brought together a mix of dance styles, aesthetic appeal and quality also seemed to be a variable. While each group appeared to be well-rehearsed and was comprised of talented dancers, there was a certain level of excitement in Gallim Dance’s “I Can See Myself in Your Pupil” that the other performances could match. Perhaps the show would have left the audience in speechless awe if it instead had closed with this performance.

In 2006, my mom’s three siblings got engaged and the news brought a whirlwind of excitement, anticipation and family drama. I thought that attending three weddings in one year would be thrilling, but my aunts and uncle thought otherwise. As the three set to resolve the issue of who was going to get married when, my family waited anxiously to see what they had settled on. As I discussed the matter with my sister, I asked her why they couldn’t all just get married the following year, as each couple had originally planned. “Well, duh,” she replied, “three weddings and one family? Don’t you think they’d all explode or something?” I digested her comment and realized it was probably impractical to clump them all in the same year. After all, planning a wedding and the stresses of in laws can drive not only the bride and the groom insane, but their families as well. While my sister’s logic seemed to make sense, I soon discovered that my aunts and uncle had another reason for their different wedding dates. “Sukob” was the term that explained it all. Apparently, there was a Filipino superstition that if one gets married the same year as another immediate family member, both parties will experience terrible luck, leading to great misfortunes, such as death. When one of my aunts first explained it to me, I could not get myself to believe her. This sounded like absolute rubbish. My aunt could tell that I was not convinced, so she showed me a movie called Sukob, which meant “wedding curse.” Though it was a bit frightening, and showed a series of unexplainable tragedies in the lives of two siblings who got married in the same year, I wasn’t buying it. Whatever the truth may be, I suppose I am just thankful that I have no reason to believe that any of my family members are cursed …

Charles Li’s The Bitter Sea is a moving memoir that shows his rocky journey from youth into young adulthood. While the book focuses on his adolescence, it also explores aspects of life that are often difficult to confront. By addressing the hardships of parent to child relationships and political chaos in China, Li creates a memoir that embraces life as it is; filled with waves of both distress and happiness.

Regardless of cultural background, one is likely to identify with Li’s experiences. Friendship, loss, frustration, and discovery are all themes that play a role on his reflective story. Though the mood created by his various memories is often depressing, it allows one to truly step into Li’s shoes. As he provides vivid descriptions of events in his youth, one can almost feel the disappointment, joy, anger and eventually, the hopefulness that filled his life.

Though at certain points, it appears that Li was simply miserable, he creates a truthful yet fair portrayal of his earlier days. He shows that his father was a stern and detached figure, but at the same time, depicts him from two sets of eyes. By doing so, he creates a picture of his father and of his situation, as a whole, that is not completely biased.

While each chapter is organized in chronological order, one might notice that there is not always a smooth transition from one story to the next. This jolty feel to his memoir, however, is not necessarily a sign of unpolished writing. Rather, it mirrors how the actual events in his life took place; they were often abrupt and led to unexpected changes. Whether intentional or not, the relationship between his craggily told story and his rough life seem to make his memoir a powerful, real-life adventure.

Co-captains of my high school cross country team (Tsu Zhu on the left, me on the right)

In first grade, I took ballet and quickly realized that I wasn’t as graceful as the dancers I had seen on television. In fifth grade, I took tap and discovered that my feet had a difficult time following directions. In sixth grade, I took gymnastics and found out that I was unable to do a simple handstand. In the end, I quit them all.

However, the summer before high school, I was determined to join a team that I would dedicate myself to. I had spent my earlier years trying new activities, but always seemed to be discouraged after just a few months. When I looked at all the clubs and teams my school had to offer, I found that the only organization that appealed to me was the track team. Running required no experience and appeared simple enough. Without hesitation, I signed up for the team and began practicing in late August.

At my first practice, my coach, Mr. Connor called over the freshman and announced, “Today, you are all going to run a mile and a half.” My jaw dropped. I foolishly did not imagine going beyond half a mile on the first day. A few girls giggled at my reaction, but Mr. Connor assured us that we would survive the seemingly impossible task. Finally, he let us go off into our first run with the team. Though my sluggish pace must have only qualified that mile and a half as a jog, it was a huge struggle getting through it. When we all finished, he asked the newcomers how the run was. “Hard” was the general reply. My coach smiled. “Remember this day,” he told us prophetically, “Just remember it.”

As I reminisce on my first days as a runner, I can’t help but wonder who that freshman girl was. Though I am in fact still Tracy, I can’t seem to identify with myself from four years ago. Then, I was terrified of a mile and half, but nowadays, I get excited to go on six mile runs. I never envisioned myself falling in love with running, but I did. Through running, I have learned that success requires patience. It took me two years to decrease my three mile time by two minutes, but the sweet satisfaction of that accomplishment was well worth my time and effort. Even now, I am still working on decreasing my running times. I am constantly striving to improve as a runner, and my time on the team has showed me that it is possible to go beyond your expectations if you work for it.

Ironically, while my “failures” in dancing led me to running, running has brought me back to dancing. After a year of being on the track team, I realized that there was a lot more to the sport than being the fastest or the “best.” It was more about perseverance and setting goals. With this newfound outlook, I felt empowered to give dancing another shot. I finally got the courage to join dance performances in my school and saw that just as in running, practice and hard work were all it took. I am currently part of a small hip hop dance group, and though I never pictured myself being any sort of a dancer, I know I can thank running for showing me that I could be.

Feeling lazy and unwilling to cook, I found myself heading over to the “Hotdog Corner,” just a block away from my house. As I opened the door to the tiny store, I expected a warm greeting from Yonja, the sweet and friendly owner of the newly opened business. Instead, I was received with a cold “Hello,” as she looked at me without her usual smile. Though I was concerned, I shied away from asking her what was wrong. After all, I was merely a customer and it was not my place to intrude on her personal life.

Once I ordered my food, I waited in awkward silence as she grilled my pizza sandwich. Finally, Yonja spoke, softly breaking the quiet air. “Where have you been?” she asked. “Oh, just at home,” I replied with a puzzled expression. “Well, you know, people are not like this where I am from,” she began. “At my shop back at home, people always come in to say hello, even if it is just to get a cup of coffee. Everyone here is so disconnected. Always so busy.” I realized that it had probably been two weeks since my last visit to her store. I never imagined that she would be offended by my absence. “Well,” she continued as she handed me the bag of food, “You should come more often. It is nice when you come by.” As I headed for the door, I turned around and gave her a weak smile. Perhaps I am not just a customer to her, I thought to myself. Perhaps I am a friend too.