My favorite part of taking the F Train is being able to see the colorful mosaics located in the Delancey Street Station every time I pass by the stop.
My personal favorite is this vivid glass, mosaic by Ming Fay called Shad Crossing. The mosaic depicts two shad fish, side by side, as they swim across a body of water. What I love about this is how colorful the entire mosaic is; every color of the rainbow and a different shade of each of those colors are used to create such a harmonious and joyful blend. It always feels calming looking at this mosaic every time I am going home after classes.
In addition, I really appreciate the historical value of Shad Crossing and how it is reflective of the local immigrant community in the Lower East Side of Manhattan. The shad fish was a staple to many of the immigrant’s diets when they first arrived and it symbolizes the immigrants themselves as they too had to travel across a large body of water in order to arrive in America.
As if seeing Picasso’s exhibition wasn’t enough, my experience at the Pace gallery was taken to a whole new level as I walked up the spiral staircase to the second floor. What I saw immediately intrigued me to explore the pixelated art of Chuck Close. From a distance, the portraits looked like snapshots taken by a digital camera. As I got closer, I realized it was a trick of perception – The images were comprised of mini thumbprint-like paint spots. To make it even more interesting, the spots each had different patterns and colors within them. The grid-like spots made me wonder how the artist plotted the points so perfectly to make the portraits come to life. As I researched the artist, I found it even more incredible that although Close was paralyzed, he continued to paint by using a brush holding device strapped to his wrist and forearm. His punch-card painting technique is inventive and makes his the works enjoyable to study.
The paintings were captivating – each individual square was an art form in itself made of concentric circles and squares. Each of these broken brush strokes were vibrant colors that made intricate designs. The pixels were a psychedelic abstraction. Hundreds of these segments were indiscernible at close range, but made up precise portraits from afar. Examining the art from different angles and distances was like a game of perception – the small pixels were greatly contrasted by the image of a human face visible when taking a few steps back.
The illusion that each individual thumbprint is connected hints at the idea that everything is not always what it seems. If you think you know something, taking a closer look may give you a completely different idea than the one you started with. In this sense, viewing Close’s art made me more attentive as my experience of the art changed just by taking a few steps closer.
Walking to the Met was a bit confusing at first- it was my first time there, and google maps had decided to lead me behind the opera house to the parking garage. However, once I got there, I was astounded. The entire complex reminded me of the Greek pavilions, and I felt like I was walking among the temples of the gods. The Met on the outside was visually stunning, but inside was somehow even more grand. It was difficult to feel intimidated by the wealth and all the fancy people with suits and dresses; instead, I was overcome with a sense of awe and wonderment at the splendor of the place. 
While waiting for our ticket problem to be resolved, I was reading an advertisement near the ticket booth. It was an ad for an Egyptian opera, and one critic had said something to the effect of, “with all the grandeur, the costumes and sets, it feels as though you are really in ancient Egypt.” I wondered if I would experience this over the top, immersive feeling from Carmen. Good thing it did not disappoint.
Going into the show, I had a feeling that I would hate it-I would fall asleep and not understand anything. I thought that those three hours would be the longest of my life. Instead, I found myself completely into the performance, and by the second half I was captivated by the music,singing and acting. I was amazed that someone could sing so loud, for so long at such a high pitched voice, and I have newfound respect for my high school music teacher who was once an opera singer. The themes were all very catchy-I still can’t get the theme of Carmen and the toreador out of my head.
Although I enjoyed all the acts, my favorite by far was the finale. In the opening, where the opera’s main theme is welcoming the entrance of the toreador, the sheer number of people on stage, the joyous theme of the music and all the festivities evoked a sense of grandeur. It really made me feel as though I was in Southern Spain, eagerly awaiting the arrival of the toreador. Throughout the scene between Carmen and the soldier, I loved the use of the toreador’s theme in the background. It was a clever way to show that the scene was happening during another event instead of just a scene following another scene. The mirroring of the deaths of the bull and Carmen was really cool as well.
All in all, Carmen was a completely unique, enjoyable experience with a bunch of “firsts” for me. It was my first time to the opera. It was the first time I’ve gotten to see the orchestra pit up close during intermission. It was the first time that I’ve seen people eat courses of dinner during intermission. I’m glad I was able to have the opportunity to go to the opera, something that I probably would’ve never done on my own
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I am finally able to say, I have experienced a Picasso!
It was indeed a powerful experience to observe his paintings and drawings in the PACE gallery today on 57th street.
Picasso was born in the year 1881 in Spain, though he had spent most of his career as an artist in France. He is known for the development of analytic and synthetic cubism as well as surrealism- types of art that have ever since remained highly influential and appreciated all around the world.
In this particular exhibition, Picasso features his second wife Jacqueline as a beautiful, almost immortal figure. Jacqueline had accompanied Picasso for longer than any other woman had, and she’d been his artistic muse during the critical time before his death.
As I was looking at the various paintings in the gallery, I realized that many of them looked so simplistic yet so complex once you got a better, closer look. Picasso used many different variations of Jacqueline, painting her in different positions and colors, using cubism elements, or simply painting her portraits. Yet in spite of all these variations, it was possible to feel that she was greatly admired and loved by him through his art.
On one of the walls in the galleries I noticed a quote by Helene Parmelin that perfectly describes Jacqueline’s impact on this exhibition: “Jacqueline has, to an unimaginable degree, the gift of becoming painting… She unfolds to infinity. She invades everything, becomes everybody.” Undoubtedly, this is exactly what Picasso had intended to do: make Jacqueline become everything and everybody.
A particular set of paintings that I thought was interesting is called “Jacqueline With Multicolored Straw Hat”. This set consisted of 6 paintings of Jacqueline, each labeled by Picasso as an individual stage. Though all six are practically the same, the only difference among them is the color. This made me curious to know how was Picasso able to replicate the paintings 6 times, making them all look so similar to each other, almost as if he took a photograph of it and simply reprinted it in different colors. I found it astonishing that the details of each panting were so much alike. Perhaps, the variation of the colors (which were going from light to dark) was meant to represent the stages of life, the first being the lightest and last being the darkest, almost as if it was meant to represent life, death, and the stages in between.
Below is one of the paintings of Jacqueline With Multicolored Straw Hat:
“Jacqueline With Multicolored Straw Hat” (Picasso; January 17, 1962)
I certainly enjoyed visiting the PACE gallery today, and I feel proud to be able to say that I have finally really seen a Picasso.
“Reclining Woman on a Blue Divan” (Picasso; April 20th, 1966; Oil on Canvas)
“Reclining Nude & Man with Mask” (Picasso; September 5 1964; graphite on paper)
Today’s trip to the Pace Gallery provided an interesting, new experience. Walking in, I was already struck by the luxury; the golden lobby, the elevator man, and the customers suited up.
Although I was not allowed to take photos, three works of art resonated with me, as they chronicled Picasso’s later life.
Jacqueline in Turkish Costume, 1955:
This painting was only 2 years after Picasso met Jacqueline. Picasso was still expressing his younger exuberance, and energetic art through bright colors such as the yellow, red, blue. This was an example of Picasso expressing the beauty he saw in Jacqueline. Through his use of these vibrant colors, Picasso was communicating his love and affection toward her.
As Picasso was nearing death later on in his life, he realized that things will not be the same in the future for the both of them, and he began to express much more somber, serious, and gloomy portraits of Jacqueline. The “Jacqueline With a Headband I” painting got my attention as it expressed these very somber feelings that Picasso and Jacqueline were beginning to feel. Unlike his earlier paintings which were much more vivacious, this portrait was a dark, gloomy portrait of Jacqueline. Dark colors such as black and brown dominate the portrait, and a seemingly serious and worried look on Jacqueline’s face is portrayed. This is just one of many darker and more serious portraits that Picasso does of Jacqueline. When he began creating these somber portraits, it marked a stark contrast to his earlier more energetic, colorful, and sexual portraits.
Lastly, the “Face of a Woman” portrait, 1962 got my attention as well. At first glance, I thought it was a rather simple work as it was simply colored pencil that outlined her face. I realized however that this portrait looked similar to the “non-linear” work that we saw in class! This portrait differs from many of his other ones in that he doesn’t portray to us Jacqueline’s physical beauties. Instead what we see is a tall, narrow, expressionless face.
Overall, I’m extremely happy I got the chance to visit the Pace Gallery and learning more about one of the most influential artists in our history!
Going to the opera for the first time last week was quite a strange experience, whether it be for the fact that we had to watch a performance from such as elevated height (which I actually quite liked) or the fact that I actually ended up enjoying an event that I was not looking forward to. The largest fear i had towards going to the opera was obviously falling asleep, yet there was more than enough interesting things that occurred that caught my attention. Whether it be the extravagent sets or the clothing, I was definitely interested. However, the thing that caught my attention during the whole performance the most was the music of Carmen, especially the individual arias performed by the singers. Down below, I’m going to talk a little about some of my favorite musical moments from Carmen.
Habanera – Carmen
Definitely the most recognizable aria from the opera, the reasons behind the popularity of the habanera is quite clear. The whole of the habanera is followed by an immediately recognizable set of cello notes from which the whole aria is based around, whether it be the backing chorus behind Carmen or the phrasing of the words that Carmen sings. However, the highlight of the aria is quite clearly Carmen, whose repeated verses show off the seductive nature of her character and balance perfectly with the backing of the chorus, who repeat important phrases at louder volumes and different tones.
Toreador – Escamillo
While the backing to the Toreador song is also very recognizable, the backing rhythm is based more around violins during quite parts when simply Toreador is singing, while the percussion instruments join in when ever the chorus chimes in. The intention of this aria in relation to Escamillo’s character is to show him off as a majestic, brave character, and to show him of being of higher stature than anyone around him. All in all, while the aria does it’s job quite well and is easily recognizable, it definitely pales in comparison to the habanera.
Je Dis Que Rien – Micaela
The last aria of Carmen is quite unique in that unlike the previous two solos, this one by Michael neither has an easily recognizable rhythm nor the backing of a chorus, being a true solo. Furthermore, this aria only receives musical backing from a piano, rather than any string instruments, allowing for a larger focus on the singing of Micaela. It is quite clear, even without understanding the words, that Micaela is singing about her love of Jose. However, the aria suffers from the lack of a easily recognizable rhythm, as it prevents listeners from easily remembering the aria in the same why you would remember the habanera or the toreador song.
Last weekend I visited the National Museum of the American Indian.
As I was walking around, I noticed many different sculptures and artifacts that represent the history and culture of Indian tribes. However, one particular piece that was appealing to me was this sculpture of the maize goddess, known as Mexica Chicomecoatl, which also means “seven snakes”. I found it interesting that a female figure was given such great significance. Once I approached it and took a closer look, I noted that this sculpture was standing upright, and the goddess seemed to have a very determined, confident expression. I was really amazed at how clearly the features were depicted, given that this sculpture was made at the period between AD 1325–1521.
Noting that the goddess is holding two ears of corn in each hand led me to think that corn must have been a very important crop among the people who worshipped the goddess. I later learned that this female spirit of corn was one of the most respected deities among the farmers of Central Mexico. Many similar carved sculptures of her were produced, and while some of them were used for family worship in rural communities, others, such as this one, were placed in a temple.
It is truly captivating to see how such a beautiful piece of art was created as a result of spiritual beliefs. The fact that the sculpture is made out of stone makes it appear strong and firm as opposed to delicate and vulnerable. It was quite impressive to look at this complex sculpture and all its tiny details while knowing that it was made so many centuries ago. This single piece of art in fact unravels a great history of creative people who were able to portray important themes in the form of art, which we are lucky enough to be exposed to today.
Bebo Valdes, a pioneer in Cuban music and important individual in the spread of Latin jazz across the United States, passed away a year ago on March 22. His influence on jazz however was quite strange, given the limited amount of times he even went to America. The spread of his influence shows how the power of popular producers and record labels can allow for the spread of one’s music. The reality is that you do not have to be popular amongst everyone to be influential. You simply have to be popular amongst everyone who goes on to become popular to become influential.
A clear example of Bebo spreading his influence during his limited trips to the United States came in 1950, when he had a couple of recording sessions with Nat King Cole. By the 1950’s, Cole was one of the most popular jazz musicians in the United States and was the leader and pianist of an extremely large jazz band. The interaction between this two great musicians perhaps was an important, but perhaps unnoticed event in jazz history and could have played a role in spreading the Cuban and Latin jazz that Bebo was responsible of making.
Going to the National Jazz Museum allowed for a pretty unique experience not just because it exposed me to jazz, a genre of music I do not actively seek out often, but also because it made more aware of the great but perhaps relatively little known musicians in jazz history, such as Charlie Parker or of course Bebo Valdes. After all, not everyone can be as well known or entrenched in pop music in Miles Davis. There needs to be pillars to music, a backbone that drives and pushes music forward. It was clear after our trip the museum that Bebo was definitely responsible for being one of the pillars of the house of jazz music and his influence can still be felt in music, whether it be Latin jazz or Cuban music.
Opera is testimony to history itself. It has survived war and disease and the volatile push and pull of political disaster. In a world where the role of fine arts is a shrinking one, opera has retained its dignity to an impressive degree- statues crumble, paintings are stolen, but music is something that will prevail through the ages.
With that in mind, I can say this: seeing Carmen by Georges Bizet on Thursday night was an honor.
To me, one of things that made the show so captivating was the fact that it was in French. What I expected to be a drawback actually enhanced my night. Professor Eversley was right when she said that an English translation of the songs isn’t necessary for a full experience at the opera. The performers sang each song with a remarkably broad range of genuine emotion, and there were several times throughout the entire show where I felt the songs more than I actually understood them.
Carmen’s arias, for instance, are a perfect example. Even though I wouldn’t have been able to comprehend the literal meaning of her words without the small caption box on the seat in front of mine, I could still comprehend the shift of moods inherent to the scene- like below in the final act, when she’s singing about her need for freedom
When looking at different types of performances, I think that this is important. The acting that you see on television isn’t the same as the acting you see in movies, and that kind of acting certainly isn’t the same as what you would see in a play or musical. In television and film, actors can take several shots of the same scene, altering camera angles and lighting to emphasize details. On stage, however, there’s no such thing as a retake. In that way, it is important to recognize- and applaud- the talent of the performers we saw on Thursday. Ignoring the fact that there were no microphones and every musical number relied on a very delicate combination of vocal projection and the architecture of the theatre, I was stunned at how forcefully performers conveyed both their emotions and their intent.
Whatever I was expecting from the opera, it certainly wasn’t a breathtaking performance like this. It was my first time at the Met, and, hopefully, not the last.
Having never gone to the opera before, it was definitely an experience I’ll remember hopefully for the rest of my life. The day we spent preparing for it kind of made me sure I was going to fall asleep because I just don’t like what I used to term as the “ahhh singing”. (I still don’t, not really). But while we were watching it, the story of Carmen really gripped me. It wasn’t just people singing for no reason, but there was an intricacy in the songs themselves that added to the depth of the story.
The plot of Carmen made me very ambivalent. I liked some characters and not so much for others. Carmen herself was a little meh. I felt like throughout the whole story, she was too selfish for words to describe. Of course, she did warn Don Jose and he did spoil her by giving into whatever she wanted, but it was still annoying to watch her make unreasonable demands of which she was the main focus even when it wasn’t her decision to make. For example, when Don Jose wanted to go back to work after getting out of jail, thereby showing that he wanted to somehow reform his life, she demanded that he become a robber to fit in with her life. I was mind-boggled when he gave in because she ruined his life!
Let’s not forget how the amazing Michaela performed in the opera. That was a bone-chilling, hair-rising aria! It was definitely very powerful and heartfelt, and it gave her more of a purpose that she previously didn’t have.
The best part of the opera, for me, was the conductor and orchestra. I’m usually not a music person, but without the conductor and orchestra, the play would not have been as exciting. When the music became loud and fast, the audience knew this was a tense scene. When it was serene and slow, the audience knew it was a calm scene. The conductor himself would get into the music and half the time I would be compelled by his movements. It was a truly beautiful thing to see him bring all forms of instruments together and create masterpieces. I guess that’s credit to Bizet, who composed all the music for the play hundred of years ago, though.
All in all, the opera was a new experience that is not easy to forget. What I thought would be a snooze-fest kept me awake and interested the whole time. Three hours seemed like a lot but by the end it didn’t even seem like that much time had passed. The story of Carmen was definitely a worthwhile watch in The Metropolitan Opera.
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