The other night our class attended a showing of “The Jungle” at St. Ann’s Warehouse in Dumbo, Brooklyn. The play completely exceeded my expectations. The performance space was transformed into a representation of the former refugee camp The Jungle located in Calais, France. The former encampment housed refugees primarily from countries in North Africa and the Middle East (i.e.: Sudan, Afghanistan, Palestine). The show was an overall captivating performance that represented both the hardships and the joys found within the camp environment.

One moment that stood out to me the most during the show was the restaurant birthday scene. In this scene, the Afghan restaurant owner Salar reflects on how much of an overwhelming experience it is to be celebrating a birthday with so many different strangers. Despite their different backgrounds, they can all come together to celebrate something universal. Salar makes these remarks as he blows out the candles to the birthday cake. Even in a struggle for survival the camp members could have time to enjoy themselves. It didn’t matter where everyone was from, what mattered was that they were there. Despite their differences, everyone could come together. The question that followed this scene was “When does a place become a home?”. This scene served as an answer to this question.

What made this scene so moving was the very nature in which the celebration was conducted, and what it means for me personally. I feel many of us take our own homes for granted. We view gatherings such as birthdays as commonplace in our American society. However, for people in such unfortunate positions, it is not always possible. Perhaps it is the celebratory nature of birthdays that make them so worthwhile. For the refugees, a day of survival may be enough to “celebrate.” The scene marked the very point in which the place (The Jungle) became a home. The camp was more than just a shelter for various  refugees, it was now a family, a family where things such as birthdays become the norm. The fact that Salar felt so comfortable to be with everyone from different origins made it truly remarkable. This sense of comfort is what made Salar feel so at home, in addition to making everyone else present so comfortable to be with him too. The scene also removed from the stereotypical image of a refugee camp of utter hopelessness and despair.

This scene was proof that there is always a home away from home, even under the least desirable conditions. A place becomes a home when the people make it so. It is the common feeling of family and openness that accomplishes this. Although we may take our own homes for granted, this scene was a testament as to what truly defines home. Home is not just a place of leisure, it is a place of comfort, comfort from the people we may least expect to receive it from.

Amputee (Election II), 2004

Martha Rosler’s House Beautiful: Bringing the War Home, New Series delivers a piercing image of the horrors of war. This 2004 piece, titled Amputee (Election II), from the series depicts a war amputee walking across a living room. Present in the background is an image of President George W. Bush and his brother former Florida governor Jeb Bush. What appears to be smoke and flames are also visible in the window. The work is a reflection of the wars in Afghanistan and Iraq in the early 2000s.

This work decisively constitutes avant-garde art through the style in which it presents the destructive nature of war. The brutal environment disrupts the peaceful household setting through a montage of different images ripped directly from magazines. Such a method strongly contributes to the work’s overall purpose. Political leaders and war veterans intersect domestic life. This definitely pushes boundaries by directly challenging the actions of our government through unique artistic means of imitation. The piece can be considered a mimesis in that it imitates both war and the home. The smiling president, the hallway, and the living room, all imitate the easy life of being at home, away from the terrors of foreign conflict. The household setting itself can be interpreted as an imitation of the family too. How the family interprets war is often shaped by how our leaders present it. The walking amputee is clearly an imitation of the genuine brutality that war produces, images that may not always be so present to those at home.

This work is very political, serving as a direct critique of poor foreign policy choices. Rosler aims to convey how repetitive American geopolitical actions have been over the past few decades from Vietnam to Iraq.  Poisonous decisions by our elected officials have resulted in a diminished consciousness of the implications of war. Our leaders feel accomplished through their actions but may widely ignore the overall consequences their decisions have, what impact such efforts may have on specific individuals and if their actions were ever truly valid. The smiling President and his brother reflect the overall ignorance of the matter. One of Rosler’s primary intentions is to convey how society may lack awareness of such horrific events that result from reckless political leadership. It seeks to change the viewer through providing a distinct perspective as to how society may view war, that war may be distant but it is a product of the decisions made at home. We often overlook how domestic and foreign affairs may intertwine.

The work’s experimentalism is directly related to its political content. Through imitating both the war and the home, it crafts a distinguished message regarding how the former is a product of the latter. The individual at home should be more conscientious of what long lasting effects their own choices will have involving such intense topics, whether it be a citizen or an elected official. Perhaps the viewer should reconsider who it places in positions of power to avoid such cruel events from transpiring.

For my Sunday afternoon, I decided to take a walk through Bay Ridge, Brooklyn. Although from Staten Island, I spent a great deal of my childhood in this neighborhood. Most of my friends are also from here and I went to elementary school here as well. This walk was an overall reflective experience for me.

View of the bridge walking down 4th Avenue

I exited the S79 Bay Ridge bus at the 92nd Street stop. I step onto the sidewalk. This is all very familiar to me. I feel as if I’m about to meet up with my friends who live nearby. I walk up 92nd Street, passing by the many restaurants and shops along the way. I pass by pizza parlors, diners, bakeries, and several fast food joints. I feel the cold air pierce through me, touching my fingertips and nose. This is a very cold day. As I walk down 4th Avenue I see the Verrazano Bridge with the blazing sun in view. As I continue to walk I come across a man sporting a red book bag. He appears rather confused and unsure of where he is going. Perhaps he is on his way to a specific destination. Maybe he is waiting for someone. Maybe he is simply unfamiliar with this neighborhood.

I proceed to walk further down and approach my old elementary school, St. Patrick’s, located between 97th Street and 4th Avenue. As I stand in front of the steps I reminisce my time here. I remember waiting on these very steps for my mother to pick me up back when I was in Fourth Grade. A much simpler time, one that was less stressful in comparison to the present. “If only I could go back, just for a little while” I think to myself. On my journey I also pass by the church. I imagine a huge crowd was here earlier in front of the main entrance for Sunday mass. I then continue towards a local park down the street.

I approached John Paul Jones Park. The park is not so packed, but as I stroll through I pass by several people. One man bundled up in a coat walks his dog, a young teenage girl takes a selfie as she kicks leaves on the grass, and one elderly man sits at a bench. I then notice a young child with a soccer ball, kicking it around with what appears to be an older woman. From a distance I assume this is his mother, but as I walk closer I notice it is an older sister. I stand and watch very briefly. The child then fails to maintain control of the ball and it rolls towards me. I gently kick it back to the siblings and they thank me for doing so. This is too brings me back to my childhood. I see the boy and I am reminded of childhood innocence, back when the question was what games we should play at the park rather than what papers were due by the end of the week. I see the older sister and wish I had such a connection with my own sibling. I would usually go to the park alone with a grandparent and kick a ball around, ride a bike, or maybe simply have fun on the swings.

Shore Road Park

I then walked further down to Shore Road Park. You can get an even closer view of the bridge here. As I enter the park, I pass by a father rolling a stroller down the entrance ramp. I then see a mother watch her children, a son and a daughter, play a game of volleyball in the park’s volleyball court. This part of my journey reminds me of the importance of family. I walk alone but I see others enjoying their time with loved ones. Perhaps the child in the stroller, or even the two children playing volleyball will walk the same path as me in the future, reminiscing childhood memories as I am now. I understand from my trip that this is all a cycle. Everyone has their story to tell and yet the story remains the same. Only the characters change. Yes, I was once a character here, playing volleyball with my friends. However, my time has passed. I am now just a visitor. I will be back, but there are new faces to experience what was once routine for me. And so, it is time to go home. I board the bus and my journey comes to its conclusion.

This past Wednesday I attended Baruch College’s Fall Poetry Revel. The event featured a number of student and faculty readers reciting a variety of poems. Some of these works covered relationships, religion, and family. However, it was one student’s poem about intimacy between a man and a woman that truly caught my attention (this student did not share their name).

The poem, titled “She Loves When I Randomly Come Over,” focused on romantic interactions between a couple. The poem’s narrator was a man expressing the pleasure of making love to a female partner, along with how he perceives the woman to feel in this experience. The author performed their work quite well, giving character to the narrator. Their voice reflected an attitude of confidence, something of a sense of power over the female character. This effectively portrayed the female partner as someone who simply could not resist the male character. There was also joy in their tone, reflecting the sense of pleasure associated with such romantic moments. The confidence and joy fused together gave the poem more of a one-sided telling, that the pleasure truly exists in the male perspective.

Listening and experiencing the poem in person was very enriching. When reading quietly to one’s self you understand the message solely through your perspective, while when listening to it in person you interpret the meaning through how it is verbally delivered. The reader’s tone highly affects the way in which a poem may be interpreted. Giving voice to a poem adds perspective. The male character came more off as confident and powerful in the relationship through the degree of pleasure represented in his voice (perhaps a more appropriate title would have been “I Love When I Randomly Come Over”). The reader also spoke rather lowly too, reflecting the intimacy of the moments in the writing. Leaning against the wall demonstrated how lax he feels being with his love. It was somewhat odd listening to such graphic images being read aloud at a school event, but nevertheless demonstrated a well thought out work.

This experience granted me a whole new understanding of the craft of writing. Writers use words to not only develop story but also to evoke emotion. It wasn’t really the story the couple had but more so the feelings expressed in their intimacy. Very little was actually told regarding the background of the relationship, but more so the pleasure associated with being with each other. Although the narrator clearly values the female partner both emotionally and romantically, the words emphasized the act of the two having intercourse, the image of that and the resulting feelings. Writing is not solely about telling stories or creating messages, it is about creating images, evoking emotion, and attracting attention to subject matter. I did not expect such a topic to be covered at this event, but the work definitely stood out in comparison to the others in content. Overall, attending this reading was a very nice experience. This was my first actual reading event and I look forward to attending similar events in the future.

Elliott Erwitt | Fort Dix, New Jersey | 1951

This image was taken by American photographer Elliott Erwitt at Fort Dix, New Jersey in 1951. Erwitt was born on July 26th, 1928 to a Jewish-Russian family who immigrated to the United States in 1939, where he would eventually study photography and filmmaking. Most of his work consists of silly yet common situations found in everyday life. This photograph of a laughing African-American male soldier serves as just one example.

The studium of this image is an African-American soldier laughing in front of his fellow soldiers stationed at the fort marching in the background. The soldiers, clad in military gear, march forward to their destination. I noticed the soldiers in the background were all white males, with the soldier in the foreground being the only African-American one present. The white soldiers display a serious, focused demeanor, unlike the soldier’s silly demeanor facing the camera. The punctum of this image appears to be the African-American soldier’s facial expression. Mouth wide open and tongue sticking out, the soldier is quite overwhelmed with joy. I interpreted this to be reflective of certain artwork of the time period that stereotyped African-Americans as silly and incompetent. It is important to note the year of this photograph (1951). Racial division in the United States was still prominent at the time. His joyful demeanor contrasts with the white soldiers marching in the background, who are highly focused on their assigned duties.

The soldier’s smile caught my attention the most because of the total randomness of it. It raises some questions regarding the situation itself. Why is he laughing? Why he is the only one happy? Does this have anything to do with him being distant from the group of soldiers behind him? Whatever the reason is, he doesn’t seem to consider what he’s doing to be all that serious and is comfortable enough to allow himself be distracted. Another thing noticeable about this image is that the soldiers in the background are utterly oblivious to his laughing. They don’t really seem to notice or even care how he sticks out from the rest of the group. Perhaps this is to further emphasize the lax character of the soldier in comparison to the rest of the group. The overall silliness of his expression is what pulled me into the image. If the soldier was wearing a basic mundane look on his face, I most likely would have skipped right past through it. This is because his expression is unexpected. In all things, it is what is unexpected that drives interest, and photography is no exception.

The Time – Cherry Blossoms on a Moonlit Night

I had the opportunity to visit some of the many amazing art galleries in Chelsea the other day. Out of all them, my favorite had to be the Japanese themed Sato Sakura Gallery. This work pictured above depicting a moonlit night stood out to me the most. Branches of cherry blossoms dangle in the foreground, with bright pink petals drifting off into the wind as they journey their way to the ground. In the background stands a silhouette of what appears to be some sort of tower. The structure stands tall with a long  spire on top. The Moon lurks directly behind the building, illuminating the nighttime sky. The Moon’s strikingly pale image contrasts with the rest of the primarily dark blue color scheme. Its design is highly detailed as well, with craters scattered all over its surface. The rest of the background consists of a clear dark blue sky, with the tops of trees being visible towards the bottom.

The gallery itself comprises a relatively large space, with plenty of room in between most of the works. Half the gallery space features a dark colored background while the other half a white colored background. I noticed most of the pieces shared a common theme revolving around nature. Trees and other plant life were common in most of the paintings. All of the works collectively established a peaceful environment in the gallery. The environment ultimately enhances our perception of the work, with the dark nighttime atmosphere contrasting with the white background. This contrast effectively grants the piece a sense of identity. While it could be anytime on the outside, it is perpetually nighttime in the painting. The art itself also alters the environment, with it making the time of day to be more perceivable to nighttime. Gazing into the piece could be comparable to looking out a window, in which case viewing the moonlit scene can influence our awareness of time in the gallery. The moonlit night is depicted as the perfect moment in time. Its perfection stems from its beauty, and this beauty supersedes that of any potential moment of time on the outside. Not only does the work alter our perception of time, but also presents to us how time is an essential ingredient to beauty.

Drum Totem

Before my time at the gallery, I visited Staten Island’s very own Tompkinsville Park. As a native of the borough, I thoroughly enjoyed this experience. This is Alassane Drabo’s Drum Totem, a West African inspired work. Standing 16′ tall, the artwork comprises one drum situated atop the main structure, and two others attached to the sides. The main structure consists of two stacked black oil drums surrounded by light brown timber driftwood. One wooden drum can be found sticking out of the lower left side of the driftwood while another can be found attached directly to the top oil drum to the upper right side. There is a noticeable hole in the top of the drum attached to the right of the main structure, a likely indicator of age and usage. The drum based at the top is the most embellished of the three, with it being largest in size, perfectly carved, and mostly undamaged. It has a dark brown wooden shell and a grayish drumhead, with what appears to be streamers draping from the sides.

The park environment was definitely an appropriate setting for the piece. The work is situated in an expansive grass area, occupying the space alongside a number of trees with leaves sprawled across the ground. Drum Totem is a central feature in the space, along with a fountain in the park center and a statue honoring Spanish-American War soldiers titled The Hiker.  From behind, the oil drums are completely blocked by the driftwood. As I entered the park from that direction, I mistook the piece for remnants of a tree. Nevertheless, the park environment contributes to the work’s display. The surrounding nature provides an ideal platform for the piece. Anyone passing through can sit and enjoy the art’s excellence. The work’s placement in a park effectively integrates African culture into an everyday setting. The park, a common public location, grants us an opportunity to appreciate an entire culture honored by the art. The space and the piece thus compliment each other through this. The art benefits from being integrated into a serene environment, while the space benefits from having an element of culture added to it.

Fragment of A Bon Throne Back | Rubin Museum of Art | Artist Unknown | Origin: 14th Century Tibet | Medium: Wood Panel with Pigments

Lions are commonly portrayed in art as innately aggressive and this 14th Century Tibetan throne fragment is no exception. The piece features a man-eating lion (bottom) and a serpent-eating griffin (top). What is immediately striking about the lion is its stylized design. It has an unusual face with a round nose similar to that of a pig’s. Pointed ears, sharp eyebrows, a thick mane, and two sharp teeth, its features represent power. This power is also reflected in its dark coloring. Its primarily dark, silver body contrasts with the animal’s traditionally soft yellow fur, more so resembling armor. Red is also present in the thin fold of the lion’s ear and the pointed end of its tail. There is a clear emphasis on its face, the only golden colored portion of its body. Neck turned and mouth open, the lion prepares to clamp down on its prey.

The lion is not absolute in its strength. Its placement under the griffin reflects a degree of inferiority. The griffin makes a strong leap for its prey well above the lion. Nevertheless, both animals share a common ability to destroy. The artist effectively presents the lion as a merciless creature. Viewing this was indeed quite frightening. It’s discomforting to witness another man lose a limb. Overall, I’m sure most would agree with me in wanting to avoid a similar fate.