A couple of months ago, I went to the Cloisters up in the Bronx. The Cloisters is a museum that is part of the Met, and houses medieval arts and artifacts. It was very different from a typical museum- the Cloisters is very castle like in shape and design. In fact, the walk from the train station to the Cloisters along the river is just like walking up to a castle- the museum is located on a hill, so you are walking up a long, winding road to get to the museum. Although the walk was long, the natural beauty was amazing, and I felt like I wasn’t in New York City anymore. The museum itself was very interesting as well- it featured a lot of medieval relics, and one piece of art was actually imported from Spain. This work of art was actually part of the infrastructure of the museum- it used to be part of a medieval church, but they shipped it, brick by brick, and reconstructed it, brick by brick, and incorporated it into the museum.
My favorite part was the treasure room, where many religious relics were displayed. These relics were lavishly decorated and ornamented, yet it was clearly visible that time had damaged the artifact. All in all, the Cloisters was a great experience and anyone going to the Bronx should stop by. It’s a discounted rate if you use your Macaulay Cultural Passport!
Often when we walk around New York City, we inevitably encounter graffiti. I don’t know how you guys view graffiti, but I was always taught that graffiti was bad- it was vandalism, spray painting the sides of buildings with racial slurs and derogatory remarks. A couple of months ago, I went to the Museum of the City of New York, and saw an exhibit on graffiti, City As A Canvas. Wondering why such graphic art was being displayed in a museum, I checked it out, and what I saw was amazing. Graffiti art wasn’t vandalism-it was art. It was a way for street artists to make their art public when they were too poor to afford putting it in a museum or gallery. One of the most prominent graffiti artists was Martin Wong, and the exhibit was focused on his work. He created many interesting works using spray paint.I realized after this that I shouldn’t judge something simply because of what someone else says, but to make my decisions on how I want to see something. Now, I look at graffiti in a different light- instead of vandalism, it is art. 
Today was my first trip to the Guggenheim museum, and after this experience, I think it is safe to say that I thoroughly enjoyed it. I found the Guggenheim to be a refreshing museum experience- not only because of its architecture, but also its experimental, avant garde exhibits, and of course, Wang Jianwei’s Time Temple.
As we were walking towards the Guggenheim, my first impressions of it were, “It’s a little small for such a famous museum.” However, once inside, I realized that I was wrong, and that Frank Lloyd Wright was an architectural genius- the spiral shape allowed the museum to be far more, or at least appear to be, expansive. Not only that, it was really cool to walk around all the way up without any stairs, and it was interesting that all the actual exhibits were behind the spiral (Fun fact- our tour guide told our group that it was specifically designed this way, so that people could not see any of the artwork from the ground floor.).
Wang Jianwei’s Time Temple was one of my favorite art pieces that we saw this year, besides Tom Smith’s Heavenly Bodies at the Rox Gallery. Maybe it was because of all the previous exposure to abstract art this year, but this installation was the first time I was able to “see something” about the art that made sense. I cannot describe how, but I was somehow able to link the sculptures and physical installations to the painting of the meeting, seeing the wooden sculptures as physical representations of the painted table. Whether or not this was Wang Jianwei’s intention, I felt a lot less confused about this installation than other works of art that we saw this year.
Another thing that I liked about Wang Jianwei’s exhibit was the use of space. Our tour guide told us that Wang Jianwei literally came the day before the show was supposed to open and created the exhibit there. For example, in the painting there is a blue line that runs where the ceiling meets the floor in the painting. This is supposed to be a representation of the way the wall that the painting is hung on meets the floor.
In addition, once we walk into the room, we become a part of the exhibit- we can get so close to the wood sculptures that nothing is stopping us from touching them except for watchful museum guards. I enjoyed walking between the two large sculptures and feeling awkward and unsettled, almost as if I was supposed to do that but not do that. The painting of the cell was also interesting because of the use of his colors. The tour guide also explained that the yellow color was meant to represented indecision when we looked at the portrait- when we look at traffic lights, yellow is when you have to decide whether to speed up to beat the light or slow down.
Besides Time Temple, I had the opportunity to walk around the museum and explore other exhibits. I found them to be very unique- they made me feel as though I was walking among showcases at a World’s Fair, even though I’ve never been to one. For example one of the pieces, done by Klein was empty- the original art featured him standing there smoking, letting the smoke take on ephemeral shapes and then disappear.
All in all, I am very appreciative of the fact that our last trip turned out to be such a pleasant experience, and one where I feel that I have finally begun to grasp the idea and abstractions of contemporary art. I will really miss outings, and am very thankful that I’ve had the opportunity to go and experience the arts of New York City.
My first impressions as I walked into the theater told me, “This is no Met.” Similarly, the performances were vastly different. While Carmen was large and very grand, Complexions was smaller and more bare, focusing more on the individual and expressions through body movement.
When the dance began, I was immediately awestruck by the level of athleticism and flexibility each dancer possessed. We sat close enough to see all the muscles flexing during each move, and the dancers’ rising and falling chests as they struggled for air. It was amazing to see all the physical feats that they could do.Following this, however, I quickly became confused. Complexions was for me a very different experience than any theatrical or musical performance that I’ve been to. My sister does traditional ballet, and every year when I go to her recitals the story is very easy to follow and obvious- whether it be the Nutcracker or Swan Lake, it was very easy for me to understand what was going on and what I was looking at. Perhaps that made it more difficult to comprehend Complexions. Throughout each performance, I found it difficult to piece together a concrete storyline; I could not understand how the title related to the moves the dancers were performing. The only visible action throughout the first dance that I could discern were the dancers imitating birds trying to escape a cage, which I found very convincing. By the first intermission, I was unsure of what I was really watching.
Fortunately, the following dances made more sense to me, and the shorter performances helped to clarify some confusions. They indicated to me that the dances focused more on expressing an emotion. I particularly liked the solo dances- I felt the dancer was most “free” and able to express himself the best when he was the focus of the stage.
The final dance began very interestingly, with a loud, upbeat dramatic soundtrack injecting energy and enthusiasm into the performance. However, as it dragged on and on, I felt, once again, confused by what I was watching. While it was entertaining to watch the dancers, I could not figure out any kind of story, or path that the dance was following.
In the end, I was left with a very perplexing view of the ballet. On one hand, I really enjoyed the dance- it was very graceful and elegant, yet at the same time very powerful and fierce. The athleticism and flexibility of the dancers made a very strong impression on me, and I appreciated how “into” the performance they were, especially Youngsil Kim, the Asian dancer. Even though I couldn’t understand the dance, her constant smile as she performed really helped convey positive emotions to me. I also enjoyed the fact that there was live music playing at times. This really helped bring life to the performances, as opposed to a pre-recorded track sounding robotic and lifeless.
On the other hand, I do not know what to make of the overall performance. With no discernible thing to focus on and say, “Wow, that dance was really good at expressing __”, I am left to wonder about what the nature of the entire program. After reading some of the other posts and looking online, I realized that the dance was focused more on portraying the emotions. Unfortunately, I was unable to realize this during the performance.
Although my feelings of Complexion are not entirely favorable, I did enjoy the experience. I am glad that I was able to see modern up close, and to determine for myself whether I liked it or not. I am grateful that now I have a new appreciation for the art of dance, and how much effort and physical strength is needed. Maybe simply the reason why I didn’t like it as much is because it’s just not my cup of tea. Or maybe it is an acquired taste, and as I become more well-versed in these kinds of things I’ll be able to understand and appreciate them better. Only time will tell.
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
. 
So after last week’s trip to the National Jazz Museum and a discussion on jazz music in my English class, I decided to give listening to jazz a try. I went on Spotify, and under Classical music there’s a playlist called Jazz-Classical Crossings. It takes well known classical pieces such as Bach’s Toccata and Fugue in D Minor and “jazzes” it up. I thought it was pretty cool because it mixes two genres of music that normally are 2 worlds apart. If you don’t have Spotify, you can sign up for free, or listen here:
http://www.last.fm/music/Andr%C3%A9+B%C3%A9nichou/Jazz+Guitar+Bach
A little bit about the composer:
Andre Benichou is a French classical guitarist and arranger. He primarily plays the electric guitar and is known mostly for his fusion-jazz electric guitar stylings. His most notable work, and most sought after, is the 1970 recording titled Jazz Guitar Bach.
Sources:
http://www.bach-cantatas.com/Bio/Benichou-Andre.htm
Her dog
is a bag is a pail is
a car her
scarf is a marble
is a leaf, fragility
is a key, the
lion is a pit is choke
is an apple is
dead.
The clock is broken
12:07,
now
and forever
keeps going, never stands still
is the desert sands
of time.
The swirl is vanilla is chocolate
is both
never stops is
life’s
soft serve
ice cream
machine.
After having spent a day trying to come to terms with what I watched in “Une Danse des Bouffons” by Marcel Dzama, I have come to only one conclusion- Marcel Dzama must have had a lot of bad experiences growing up. The 35 minute black and white clip is supposed to be a story that weaves together “good versus evil, death and rebirth, love and lost love, multiple identities and doppelgängers, false prophets, the corruption of power, and tensions between reality and fiction” (Jones, 1). However, taken at face value, the film tells the story of a freaky trickster forcing a woman watch her loved one recite haunting codes (only after reading the press release did I realize they were chess moves), the Joker beheading a horse, a clown blowing off the Joker’s head, the clown reattaching the horse’s head to the Joker’s body, and finally a man coming out of horse-Joker’s giant, full upper-torso vagina.
It was the craziest, most traumatic, terrifying thing that I’ve ever watched, yet by the end I was completely mesmerized.
The film had a strange, hypnotic effect, beginning with the woman being forced to watch her man say chess codes and die. It reminded me of a brainwashing tactic used in a Communist, or dictatorial regime: beat the man to death, then force him to say certain things. It was certainly an interesting experience, and helped me understand the plight of people living in countries where things like this were practiced.
The dancers and masks, however, were too unsettling. Their bizarre and seemingly heartless actions reminded me of the story of clowns being serial killers. The main man, who bore a striking resemblance to the Joker, didn’t help- the Joker from Batman was known for being insane and whimsical, but Dzama’s Joker went further-he was more sadistic and gruesome, and his henchmen more terrifying. The Joker character added to the spooky and tense scene, and made the scene much more disturbing.
The finale, however, was what scarred me for life. The resurrected Joker with the beheaded horse’s head unzipped his shirt to reveal a gigantic vagina that spanned the entire length of his body. Then, slowly and disgustingly, out came the man at the beginning of the video, nearly dead from the arrow wound he sustained at the hands of the trickster. At this point, I looked away, unable to watch the horror in its entirety. However, I also became fascinated by Dzama- he had no limits; no social boundaries confined his work. He was unafraid to display such graphic images- from the brainwashing, to the beheading to the “birth”-that normally people would condemn. I interpreted his work less as a story that combined many themes together, and more as a film that pushed the limits of what society would view as acceptable to watch. It was this aspect of the film that mesmerized me, although one run-through of “Une Danse des Bouffons” is enough to satisfy (or scar) me for a lifetime.
Jones, Branwen. “Marcel Dzama Une Danse Des Bouffons (A Jester’s Dance).” Une Danse Des Bouffons (A Jester’s Dance) » David Zwirner. N.p., 9 Sept. 2014. Web. 01 Oct. 2014.
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