On Wednesday October 6th I traveled down to the Brooklyn Academy of Music to see a play entitled “I Don’t Believe In Outer Space”. Before attending the production, I had managed to see a brief snippet of the production done previously. This snippet involved a man pretending to play table tennis with an invisible ball. He even managed to add in his own sound effects to truly create a strange display. So, in a sense, I was somewhat prepared for what I was about to witness. However, my preparation had not trained me well enough for this display of bizarre behavior.

The entire stage was covered with small balls of duct tape, and began with several groups of people randomly prancing throughout the stage. I couldn’t figure out who to fix my attention on, and this caused me to whip my head left and right, trying to understand what was going on before me. The dancing, if you could call it that, was a mix of a what a contortionist would do and the prancing of a traditional ballet. Sprinkled over the play were occasional monologues, most notable one by a woman who may have been possessed by Satan himself. It was almost as if I was in a really bad nightmare, because nothing was making sense and everything was horrifying me. But alas, I knew I wasn’t in a nightmare, because even in my worst dreams, I could at least see what was going on without twisting my body in a yoga-esque pose. Yes, the seats were that horrendous. Adding to my dismay were 2 human giraffes sitting in the two seats ahead of me. It seemed as if the BAM had taken surveillance on me, figured out what would baffle me the most, and put in on stage. However, one element of this….thing was able to salvage my sanity, and that was Gloria Gaynor’s “I Will Survive”. This song, like every other element in the play, had no real reason to be there, but it was almost like this song was the blanket that protected me from the fierce, horrific tundra of “I Don’t Believe in Outer Space”.

Overall, the  play wasn’t to my liking. However, I had learned some valuable life lessons and skills after attending the performance. The most important skill I gained was being able to find my happy place. I was scared, and I was petrified. However, I went deep into my brain and entered my new-found happy place, and now when something traumatic is occurring, I can return to my happy place for safety and refuge. I will survive. I won’t lay down and die, but with that being said, if bizarre and random displays of expression for 75 minutes aren’t your idea of a good time, you might as well do so. I salute William Forscythe and all of the performers for their effort, and if it’s any consolation, this isn’t the most disturbing thing I have ever seen (I think it ranks close to 11 on the top 20).

I was impressed at how well the orchestra and opera singers were keeping up with each other. They were able to match each other down to each individual word and note. It showed how much effort and time was spent trying to perfect the performance and it made me gain newfound respect for them. I was also surprised at the last scene of the opera where Don Giovanni was dragged down to hell. Throughout the entire opera, I kept wondering how that scene would play out. While debating about it in my head, I finally convinced myself that they would probably skip that scene since it would be difficult to have real fire on the stage. It was at the same moment that stage cracked and fire appeared while Giovanni was being dragged down to “hell”. However, I wasn’t the only one that was surprised. I found that once that scene came on, everyone around me became wide-awake. Out of the whole performance, it was the most exciting and unexpected scene.

I also found that watching the opera, as opposed to just reading it, gave a better glimpse at the characteristics of each character. For example, Don Giovanni represents pleasure and greed. Giovanni’s only goals in life are women and wine. He refuses to back down or change his ways as evident when he chooses hell. He ultimately doesn’t care about the feelings of the people, such as Leporello and the women he played, that surrounded him. Leporello is essentially Giovanni’s shadow as he represents the polar opposite of Giovanni. The idea of Leporello being Giovanni’s shadow is further supported by the resemblance between the actors of Leporello and Giovanni during the opera and the twins that were casted to play them in the clip we saw at the library. Leporello represents restraint, poverty, cowardice and failure with women. The women in the opera portray fickleness. For example, Donna Elvira moves between hating and loving Giovanni. In the beginning of the opera, Donna Elvira wants revenge on Giovanni but after some coaxing she goes back to loving him. Zerlina, on the other hand, alternates between Maestro and Giovanni. Donna Anna doesn’t stay true to her word and keeps giving excuses. In the beginning of the opera, she refuses to marry until she gets revenge for her father but at the end she still refuses to marry because she needs a year of mourning. Don Ottavio represents loyalty. He is devoted to Donna Anna and swears to get revenge for her, even if it means killing a friend.

Watching the Orchestre Revolutionnaire et Romantique provided a different experience than the Tokyo String Quartet. While The String Quartet only had four players (two violinists, a violist and a cellist), the orchestra had about twenty players just for the violin alone. Having a balcony seat during the orchestra allowed us to get a clear view of each player’s techniques and styles. As a result, I found it mesmerizing to see so many violinists moving their bows together in unison. This is in contrast to the Quartet where each individual plays a separate role in the music piece without guidance. In contrast to that, the orchestra had a conductor present. Since we had a balcony seat, the conductor’s back was always facing us but we were able to get a clear view of his movements. I found it interesting to watch him move his body along with the music. Unlike the quartet, his movement was no longer limited to just his head movements. Here the conductor was able to move his head, hand and body fast, slow, left, right, up and down to the music. Another difference between the two performances is that the orchestra had woodwind, brass and percussion instruments in addition to the strings. Since the orchestra had a larger variety of instruments, they were also able to produce more sounds. I thought that it was a nice edition to the music. Perhaps I’m biased because I used to play in a band or it could be due my need for variety because I get bored easily.

Personally, because of these differences I enjoyed the orchestra more than the string quartet. I felt that the style of music in the orchestra was closer to the type of music that I listen to. I think that the addition of the band instruments gave the music a more modern feel, deviating from the traditional classical music with just the strings. Compared to the quartet, I found that the music played by the orchestra was more upbeat and dramatic. After all, they were easily able to go from quiet creeping sounds to loud and lively music. A random thought that came to me during the orchestra performance when the quiet creeping music was playing was Tom and Jerry. It’s a cartoon that I watched as a kid about a cat and mouse that are constantly at each other’s throats.

When I read the play, The Cherry Orchard, in Anton Chekov’s The Major Plays, I did not enjoy the play much at all. I could not see how it could ever be considered to be a comedy. To me, it depicted a tragic tale of people with dysfunctional relations that was by no means funny. There was too much death for it to be funny. So much people were crying for God’s sake! The characters were too somber, too dreadful, too miserable to ever be part of a comedy.

But when I watched The Cherry Orchard at the Classics Stage Company(CSC), my whole opinion of the Cherry Orchard changed dramatically. The CSC did not change the vibe of the play, but rather, it brought the play to life. Right then, the reason why The Cherry Orchard would be considered a comedy made a lot more sense than when I was reading the play. “Actions speak louder than words” could never be a more effective phrase than it is when it comes to plays, especially Chekov’s plays. Unlike plays by Shakespeare and Greek plays, the words in the play are not parallel to the way the actions are. Although the words spoken in the play are not particularly comedic to me, the actions in which the characters portray the words are. I especially enjoyed that the play was modernized but not really changed, since it was able to appeal to a more modern audience(a.k.a. us), without losing Chekov’s distinct style to the play.

I also enjoyed the fact that the play was more interactive with the audience than the other plays were. CSC, unlike huger buildings such as Carnegie Hall, the Met, BAM and the 92nd Street Y. In the other buildings, we had to sit at the back of the theater and we were barely even able to see the people’s faces, much less their emotions. CSC, on the other hand, was a tiny building, with probably less than 100 seats, thus causing me to be able to see the emotion the actors portrayed as their roles in the Cherry Orchard. This caused the play to be even more entertaining due to our string connection with the actors. This was the reason why, the Cherry Orchard performance, although being the last performance we watched, it was certainly not the least.

At the beginning of the Tokyo String Quartet, I expected a bland, unmoving performance. I judged my expectation of the performance based on not only the prototypical expectation for a string performance, but due to the typical demographic of the audience. The audience composed primarily of elderly people and when I was seated to watch the performance, most of the heads I say were either bald or graying.

But little did I know that I was wrong, extremely wrong in fact. The beginning of the Tokyo String Quartet played dreary, sad music. I closed my eyes, thinking sad moments reflecting the thoughts and then strangely, I started to cry. The other performance after the  first performance started to be subsequently happier, and my sad mood started to become a bit more elated over time. I realized that I started to become connected to classical music, something that I thought I never would become connected to in the way I felt connected to pop music.

I then realized that Nietzsche in his work The Birth of Tragedy was absolutely right. Before this performance, during one of the Macaulay Seminars, I said that words tend to connect to emotions much more quickly than music ever could. I said that because I was closer to a writer than a singer or a musical performer, thus I was connected to the words I write. I still am. But I realized that ever since this performance, my opinions on what can cause emotions changed. I learned that sometimes, music can connect one to emotions more than words ever could.

Friedrich Nietzsche recognized a disturbing trend of the modern world in The Birth of Tragedy. Following in the footsteps of philosophers such as Socrates and Plato, we have placed the utmost importance on rationality and the sciences, while abandoning emotion and the arts. According to Nietzsche, the balance has shifted greatly towards the Apolline rather than the Dionysian.

Would Nietzsche consider “I Don’t Believe in Outer Space” to be an oasis in the cold desert of rationality? I cannot help but believe that the answer is a resounding no. This cannot be the Dionysian art that Nietzsche revered so greatly. The performance included unorthodox dance movements and extremely limited plot development; it is in direct opposition to the majority of ballets. The talent of the performers is undeniable. One performer was impressively able to vary both her movements as well as her voice in accordance with the two parts that she played. However, this is not the nature of chaos that Nietzsche envisioned in art’s most perfect state.

Dionysian art is completely immersive. There may be chaos, but the audience is united in chaos. The performance only left me feeling alienated and annoyed. William Forsythe’s esoteric references only served to exacerbate these feelings. In addition, the most important form of Dionysian art, music, was relegated to a secondary role. Instead, dialogue and dance were put in the forefront. Dionysian art is supposed to be intoxicating. The only intoxication involved in this performance must have taken place while Forsythe produced it.

I despise being a spectator. Although I was involved in athletics throughout most of my youth and teenage years, watching sports on television or even from the bleachers has always been a mind-numbing bore. For this reason museum and art exhibits have always been extremely difficult for me to appreciate.

Fluxus art is clearly different though. Whether it’s the anti-commercialism theme of many pieces, the way in which it combines different art media, or even it’s anti-art message, Fluxus is an alien movement in comparison to most art. However, the aspect of Fluxus that interested me the most was the attempt by artists to produce interactive works of art.

Such pieces were on display at the “Fluxus and The Essential Questions of Life” exhibit in The Grey Art Gallery. For example Yoko Ono’s “Painting to Be Stepped On” instructed the observer to leave a canvas or painting on the floor so that it could be stepped on. Such pieces kept in spirit with the anti-art message of Fluxus while giving a more direct involvement to the observer. Other “event” pieces held instructions for the observer to complete as well. However, I was utterly disgusted when our peer was told not to touch a book that was part of an art piece. It was then that I noticed all of the Fluxboxes held in captivity underneath clear glass cases. Surely the creators of these boxes would not be pleased. The exhibit had completely twisted the message of Fluxus. Rather than working in the lab, we were reading the textbook.

In Brother I’m Dying, Edwidge Danticat delivers a memoir with poignant and candid writing. It was an excellent choice for the required freshman reading for Brooklyn College students. Although, most of our struggles cannot nearly compare to the author’s, themes such as immigration and family provided us with relatable material. In addition, I believe her message for action in the face of injustices was necessary for us to hear. As the future of America and college students, it was important for an older generation to remind us that there are certain things more important than the pursuit of our career.

During the most memorable part of Danticat’s visit to Brooklyn College she motherly echoed her sentiments through a series of Haitian proverbs. When I heard “proverbs” I expected cliché ideas. However, their origin in a culture I was unacquainted with made them far more interesting. “Those who care cannot sleep,” she told us. There are still far too many troubles in the world for those who want change to take rest. Another proverb, which obviously centered on her passion for writing, was “Words have wings, words have feet.” Although, I plan for my future to revolve around the sciences, specifically medicine, these words still resonated with me. Literature has always been an escape from the mundane for me. Furthermore, as imperfect as democracy in America may be, this proverb reminded me how lucky I am to live in a country which gives its citizens freedom of speech. To be as voiceless as Danticat’s uncle was in Haiti is something that I could not bear.

After attending both a quartet and an orchestra, I have to say that I enjoyed the orchestra more. The quartet was more cozy and comfy, especially the distance between my seat and the stage. I could clearly see every person’s face when. The hair from one person flapping up and down as he was swaying to the music and another performer falling over his viola. It was very well performed, but I wasn’t exactly captured by the music. They were very talented indeed, but it wasn’t exactly as big of a production and it didn’t have as much of an impact as the Carnegie Hall performance did. But I do understand that the four performers at the 92^nd street Y were extremely skilled because since there were only four performers, if any one person made a mistake, it would have been very obvious, while at Carnegie Hall, if one person made a mistake, it wouldn’t be as obvious since there were more performers to cover your mistake.

The hike up to my seat at Carnegie Hall was completely worth it. I thought I was going to be late for the show, and the large amount of stairs didn’t help me either. When I got to my seat, I noticed how beautifully simply the inside of it was. Compared to the Met Opera House, it was very plainly white and embroidered- no chandeliers and no fancy lighting either. The Stage was simply a space that had wooden floors and no curtains – something I also noticed. But when I finally sat down, I noticed how awkward the seating was. Even though I’m rather short, my knees were almost touching the head of the person sitting in front of me. It made me feel very uncomfortable because I felt like I would knee her in the head, or even if I lean back myself, the person sitting behind me, would knee me in the head. So throughout the two hours that we were sitting there, I tried not to move anywhere.

The Carnegie Hall Performance really had a big impact on me. The music that the performers produced was really strong in a sense that it was more “inspiring” then it was “soothing.” I was really surprised to see that all the performers were able to move their bows at the same time. Even though every performer was swaying to his/her own beat of the music, I could tell that every person was focusing on the conductor and each person was using the tip and the frog of the bow at the same time. I was also very interested in the way the performers dressed. All the women wore long black dresses and most of them had their hair tied up in a bun. All the men wore black suits, and I thought they were all uniform in what they wore and I thought it made the whole occasion not only elegant, but also very professional. Even though I couldn’t see every single person’s face on stage, I was very happy to look over that small detail, and be able to listen to the strength of the music, even from a large distance from my seat to the stage.

Something that was very strange that I noticed from both performances was that after each song, people in the audience would start coughing, as if they were holding the longest cough throughout the performance so that they wouldn’t distract the performers. It was strange to see everyone coughing, sneezing and moving around right after the song, that it made a huge restlessness between the songs. I’m not much into going to classical performances, so maybe I’m not very knowledgeable about these rituals, but do people actually cough at the end of each performance? Or was this just a coincidence?