**I do not know if anyone else had any trouble uploading photos this week, but I kept getting an error message every time I tried, so I uploaded them on my Tumblr first and inserted the pictures through the URL. Also, since I did it that way, I wasn’t asked to resize the pictures so maybe it is like the embedding videos thing? I am rambling, so good night!**
And this is the song I was talking about, called Το ζεϊμπέκικο της Ευδοκίας.
(Pronounced To (like the start of tomato) Zembekiko tees Evdokias)
And this is an example of the dance I was talking about, Kalamatiano. I like this video because it shows some of the other traditional Greek outfits (I apologize that mine was not actually that visible, I will try to post pictures of it).
Usually, when I see a show, I go to see a musical or something more classical. Never in a million years did I think I would go see a hip-hop show! Before going to see “A Sucker Emcee,” I did not really know what to expect; I did not have much experience with the “hip-hop” genre. I assumed that I would be bored the whole time and not understand anything that was going on or be able to relate to anything in the performance itself.
And then I walked in to the theater. The set-up of the space was absolutely not what I expected. There were two or three rows of seats-which were actually really comfortable- and the rest of the space was taken up by high tables. Automatically, the performance felt much more casual than anything I was used to, and the performance had not even started yet! I sat down in the front row, as there was no assigned seating, and took in the set up of the stage: It was pretty bare, with only a DJ table, a stool, and a microphone, but it looked absolutely breathtaking in the lighting.
One of the first things I loved about the performance was the playbill. It was visually different than any other playbills I had seen and was short and to the point. It gave the backgrounds of the people involved and about the theater itself. Before the performance started, I assumed that I would have to take notes on the performance, since it was not really something that appealed to me and I thought I would quickly forget the details. Well, I was wrong.
From the moment Craig “muMs” Grant stepped on stage and began his performance with the words, “Fear is a warning, and I’m scared,” I was captivated. It was such a moving performance; through rap and poetry alone, muMs was able convey the struggles he faced growing up to become an emcee, his feelings of loss, and, most importantly, his fear to the audience. And we were all eating it up. I got into my car after the performance and discussion and I basically acted like a crazy fan girl about this show to my mom.
Now you may ask, “how did this one man hip-hop show work so well?” Well fasten your seatbelts, everyone, we are taking a ride down Explanation Lane. It was a combination of performance aspects that worked really well for the show: the music, lighting, simplicity of the set, and the writing.
This show was about muMs’s struggles to become a successful emcee, so of course the music would be important. The musical cues made by DJ Rick Medina came at the perfect moments and helped muMs translate the story to the audience. I honestly did not expect to like the musical accompaniment, but I was definitely a fan.
The lighting of the show was pretty simple; mostly, it was an adjustment of the brightness on muMs and the color of the light. I think this worked really well because, not only did it help keep the audience’s focus on muMs, but it also helped convey the mood of the piece he was performing.
As I stated, the set was very simple, only being adorned with a DJ table, a stool, and a microphone. At first, I was disappointed that there was nothing grand about that, but, clearly, I did not know what I was saying at that point. The simplicity of the set was incredibly useful in that, like the lighting, it kept the focus on the performer. There was nothing to distract the audience, so we were basically forced to focus on Mums and his words, which was not actually a regrettable thing.
The most valuable part of the performance was the writing. One would think that the writing is essential to any show, but I have seen some shows that just have really bad writing. It was apparent that muMs was very careful in his word choice. He wrote his poems in such a beautiful way that it was actually difficult not to listen to them. The metaphors he crafted were absolutely gorgeous and easily understandable. Sometimes it was even the simplicity of the language that made the piece so powerful, like the poem where muMs stated, “Today my mother held a knife at me” (I probably do not have the quote 100% correct, but E for effort?). The writing was a true form of artistry.
Now I am being really nitpicky right now, but if I had to choose one thing that I might have improved just a little bit, I would slow down muMs’s words a bit when there was no music playing, permitting that it would not mess up the rhythm of his words. At times it was a little bit difficult to understand what he was saying. But that was not really a big issue for me.
I would definitely recommend this show to anyone who could see it, because it is that well put together and important. This was not just a show for people who like hip-hop, or people from the Bronx, or African American people. The message behind the show is one that transcends people’s backgrounds: follow your dreams. He tells the audience, “I want you to have what I have.” Anyone can relate to that; we all constantly feel the pressure of what we should do with our lives: our parents tell us one thing, friends tell us another. But in the end, we can’t settle with being “sucker emcees.” We have to do what makes us happy. And that is why “A Sucker Emcee” is so important and captivating.
I should start off by letting you all know that I am directionally incapable, which is really sad coming from someone living in New York. With that said, until I asked my parents what part of New York City “Uptown” actually was, the term really didn’t mean much to me. Sure, I had some knowledge that it was the wealthier part of the city; but in my mind, all I really had to work with was Billy Joel’s “Uptown Girl” and Boaz Yakin’s film, Uptown Girls. Still, the image that first pops into my head is that of wealthy women who marry equally wealthy men wearing the latest fashion trends (even if they aren’t going anywhere), having brunch or shopping with their other wealthy friends while the children are at home with the nanny. I always envision these people to have carefree lives without actual jobs to get to, but yet, money is constantly being deposited into their bank accounts for no real reason. And these uptown people seem to live a life that is so unattainable for the rest of us, automatically allowing us to decide that they are snobby and superficial. Even the name sounds snobby. Uptown. It makes you think that Uptown is so much better than everywhere else, let’s not even mention Downtown.
Blake Edwards’s Breakfast at Tiffany’s basically reinforced what I already assumed about life in Uptown New York City. I would like to begin by stating that I really did not like this film, but that might partly be because the movie was recorded at such a low volume that I struggled to actually hear the dialogue. I also felt like the plot was really lacking and I did not really like Audrey Hepburn’s character, but, man, did she look good doing it! I just need to take a moment to appreciate how good she looked the whole time, especially in the first scene; if that is what she wears to window shop while eating breakfast, I would love to see what she throws on for dinner! I found myself obsessed with her hair swirl, too. Just a big “thank you” to whoever set up her costumes and styling. My appreciation for Audrey Hepburn’s general elegance aside, Holly’s styling was really representative of how I envisioned women living Uptown. She put on a gorgeous gown and a fabulous necklace just to get in a cab and stare into the window of a store, while the rest of us basically choose an outfit that can go from day to evening if necessary.
Holly Golightly’s behavior was especially representative of my mental image of Uptown. For instance, the Manhattan socialite gets paid $100 every week just to visit a mobster. If I didn’t already think that these Uptown women probably never worked a day in their lives but still get money thrown at them, there is my proof. Also, Holly keeps trying to marry extremely wealthy men, going so far as to request a list of the richest men in Brazil, despite her multiple failures, just to maintain her lifestyle. Her behavior perpetuates my mindset that these Uptown people believe themselves to be so above everyone else that high society can only marry other high society. To continue on the path of the Uptown societal superiority, Holly and Paul are shown stealing from a 10-15 cent store (which I guess is the equivalent of a dollar store nowadays) without giving it a second thought. These wealthy people are so self-engaged and used to their wealthy lives that they don’t even think about how stealing something, regardless of how small, can affect others, similarly to how Holly takes the fifty dollars from Sid and deserts him without caring. Even though Hepburn’s character had quite a long list of sucky characteristics, she did have some redeeming qualities, like how she was saving money to take care of her brother once he returned from the army, for instance.
The ending of Breakfast at Tiffany’s strayed from my idea of Uptown life. The guy gets the girl and suddenly Holly realized that money cannot buy happiness, only love can do that, guy and girl kiss in the rain while seemingly crushing a moist, nameless cat, the end. But that is probably part of the Hollywood “happy ending,” which is mostly unrealistic.
Mariyanthie Linaris
It would be inaccurate to say that we are not all confined by the definitions of class all around us; class structures constrict almost every aspect of our lives, from whom we associate with, who we marry, where we go. The list goes on. And all of this is especially prominent living in New York. We see every class division from the population below the poverty line, the struggling lower class, the stable middle class, and the flourishing upper class.
For those who might not be so exposed to the wide range of social divisions, art is a huge part in passing along information. Art can either perpetuate class stereotypes or break the mold and offer a different perspective. This is not a new concept; film and theater have been influencing the population for years. Personally, I remember watching My Fair Lady at a very young age and gathering from it that the rich and poor will never be on an even playing field, that the poor are basically a game to be bet on. Then I saw Annie Get Your Gun, where Annie Oakley, a dirty girl who is just “doin’ what comes naturally,” wins over the hearts of the high society people and makes a name for herself despite her financial status. Clearly, different works portray classism in different ways.
Take Oliver Stone’s Wall Street, for instance. The film follows Bud Fox on his journey to become a successful stockbroker. The film enables classic stereotypes of the upper and middle classes. Through the morally ambiguous actions of Gordon Gekko, Bud’s “role model,” Stone perpetuates the stereotype that the rich lie and cheat their way up the social and economic ladder. The middle class is represented through Bud’s father, Carl Fox, a hard working blue-collar worker who encourages his son to do the morally right thing. The film’s representation of the middle class enables the population to believe that all middle class people are honest, hard working people who look out for each other.
Now compare Stone’s film with Taxi Driver, directed by Martin Scorsese. Taxi Driver follows Travis Bickle, an insomnia ridden former United States Marine turned late night taxi driver. Clearly, this film paints a very (very) different picture of the lower/middle class. With all the robberies and prostitution and all that good stuff, Scorsese translates the idea that the lower class people are definitely not always the honest, hard working people we like to believe they are; instead, we are left with the idea that these people will do anything for money, regardless of the social norms of right and wrong. But wait, I thought that was just for the wealthy upper class people (according to Oliver Stone)? Apparently not. While Stone perpetuated the stereotypes of the upper and lower classes, Scorsese rebelled against them, proving that no one, upper class or lower class, is above lying and cheating your way to a pay day.
God of Carnage, by Yasmina Resa, was pretty wild from start to finish. The play centers around Veronique and Michael Reille and Annette and Alain Vallon, two sets of parents in France who attempt (strong emphasis on attempt) to discuss their sons’ altercation. Both couples seem to be higher-class people. The discussion starts calmly, but quickly takes a sharp turn to borderline violent. People are vomiting all over the place, cell phones receive a watery grave, wives attack their husbands, and the matter of a toothless boy with a swollen lip remains unaddressed. In my mind, I thought these high society people would calmly discuss the issue over some wine and cheese perhaps, but their behavior deteriorates to that of three year olds fighting over the last red crayon in the supplies basket. God of Carnage makes its audience realize that high society people are not always as put together as we may believe they are and can actually fight dirty.
Clearly, different windows offer different views inside, but we cannot rely on one window to give us the clearest, fullest view.
PS: Why does this website act like everything is being posted like four hours ahead? It is 11:47pm, not 3:47am, eportfolios.
Mariyanthie Linaris
I have always considered myself to be very immersed in the arts; I sing, I danced for 15 years, I act, I partake in community theater like it is my job, and I generally love anything artistic. However, after dreading defining art for almost a week, I still find it pretty near impossible to “define” art.
When we hear the word art, a very conventional image comes to mind: probably a painting somewhere of a stiff looking woman with nothing really special about her. But still, more than five hundred years later, people are still arguing about whether or not this mundane looking woman is really smiling! So one must wonder: Is conventional art, like Leonardo da Vinci’s Mona Lisa, the only category of art? Do masterful paintings of eighteenth century aristocrats and picturesque landscapes define the narrow margins by which we must decide if a work qualifies as art?
My automatic reaction to the definition of art was that any work that was created as a result of an emotional response and evokes an emotional response constitutes art. While I often rethink my first thought or impression, I experienced an unwavering confidence of my initial reaction. In addition, art should also allow for a degree of debate. And, of course, art does not only consist of the visual fine art genre; art is also music, dance, theater, and film. Therefore, art works like the Mona Lisa, Mozart’s symphonies, The Nutcracker and other classically beautiful works are not the only categories that meet the criteria.
I offer the dancing style of breakdancing as an example for this. Clearly, breakdancing strays very far from the classical style of dance; it lacks the pointed toes and elegance of ballet, but it still possesses the ability to tell a story and provoke thought. The same level of training and technique that goes into ballet also goes into breakdancing, however only the former is immediately regarded as art. The same applies to graffiti. We all see graffiti on the sides of buildings and simply brush it off as vandalism, all the while thinking to ourselves that those feral teenagers are at it again! So often, though, this is not the case. I remember seeing a patch of graffiti on a building that was made as a memorial to a loved one. This memorial, born out of grief, was not a result of some feral teenager whose wish was just to deface another’s property. Just looking at it made me feel the love the artist had for the person, as well as the pain of the loss. This art was promptly covered up, but it was still art nonetheless.
The graffiti was not immortalized, while so many other conventional art works are in museums and galleries. Since the museums and galleries decide what they will display, it seems as though they decide what will be immortalized, and therefore decide what the general public will regard as art. If a museum consists solely of eighteenth century portraits, people will only emulate that style and regard it as art. However, if a museum contains a vast array of styles, it becomes more difficult for a specific style to be shut out on the other side of the velvet rope.
The Brooklyn Museum accomplishes this plethora of styles. When I visited it, I observed traditional African art, furniture, eighteenth century portraits, as well as some more modern and abstract pieces. I saw a painting of a landscape, and there was no doubt in my mind that the painting was art. Conversely, I also saw an abstract painting titled “Everlasting Waterfall.” Its mere presence in the museum hinted to me that it was, and rightfully should be, considered art. It was unconventional in that it did not have a clear picture or meaning, but quite conventional in that it sparked quite the debate and conversation within my group. Anyone who tours Brooklyn Museum or any other museum like it would have a clear cut understanding that art is not just one thing or another, but a variety of many things. That kindergartener’s finger-painting? Art. That aspiring rapper’s verse? Art. That anime fan drawing? Art. Anything that is inspired or inspires? Art.
