See Ya Later Stinky Bitches: A Review of Bike America

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One of the best ways for an audience to learn a lesson is through laughter. Through crisp one-liners and hilarious scenarios, Bike America explores the idea of finding one’s self and how the pursuit is sometimes an excuse to avoid responsibility. The protagonist, Penny (Jessica Digiovanni), a 28-year-old graduate student, does not want to settle down with anyone nor does she want to finish graduate school. She is a rolling stone who believes that Boston is the wrong place to be and that she must explore America to see where she will fit in.  Like many students, Penny is lost at her core and bewildered by the pressure of society. Her so-called boyfriend pushes for an apartment together and her parents can’t fathom why she doesn’t already have two kids and a house.  Furthermore, she has no confidence, constantly reiterating that she is a “fuck-up”.  She is a damsel in distress to men yet an independent woman in her own mind. The input of societal pressures producing the output of Penny the “fuck-up” is quite humorous but it makes this performance relatable and interesting.

Apart from Penny, the supporting actors and actresses fill the performance with life, each having a distinct and clear methodology for how to handle such an issue. Specifically, the character known as “Man with the Van” played by actor David Shih, plays such a small yet very important role. Apart from being a tough roadie, he turns out to be quite prophetic and wise with his advice. He is blunt and says ridiculously comical lines like the title of this article, “See ya later stinky bitches”, his signature line when he leaves the group to get back into his van. The audience loves him because he is a quiet, hilarious, older man.  His advice to Penny reminds the audience that rather then finding oneself, accept who you are. He acts as the elderly man who has gone through such trouble to finally come to the conclusion that the purpose of life is not to question it, but to live it with confidence. His indifference and set way of life makes him all the more convincing and credible. The man with the van is a truly likable character who is a critical part of the story’s formation of a cathartic effect.

Also on the trip are Annabel (Marilyn Torres) and Rorie (Melanie Nicholls-King), a lesbian couple looking to get married in every state they pass through. Although this duo initially came off as fun and genuine, their poor acting in some of the more controversial scenes caused a poor delivery of their message of equal rights. The duo plays the overplayed roles of good cop and bad cop, in terms of their emotions, making their actions predictable and disengaging. Their roles calls them to be role models to Penny, yet their over exaggerated emotions and banter causes the audience to dismiss them as credible sources. Personally, I feel it is unnecessary to even have a lesbian couple in the play, as it was made too large of an issue, ultimately distracting the viewer from Penny’s metamorphosis.  However, the actresses were precise in demonstrating to Penny what it means to be comfortable in one’s own skin. Overall, their performance was over-the-top and made certain scenes ineffective and awkward.

On top of Annabel’s and Rorie’s personal drama with the law, Penny is in a huge love struggle with three men, all on the trip with her. The three men all offer comic relief through their relentless and unique styles of seducing Penny.  Unlike Rorie and Annabel, these three men tackle tough issues such as marriage, the fear of being alone, and the pursuit of happiness in a comedic and entertaining manner.  They all touch base on a fear of being alone by liking Penny more when she neglects them. Although some men might find this offensive and degrading, the switch of predominant gender roles made the performance refreshing. It was nice to see the male role not be independent or fearless like popular media showcases men to be.  Director Moritz Von Stuelpnagel emphases that despite gender, all humans have a desire for connection.  By employing these three men in such a comedic atmosphere, this point is effectively made.

Apart from the overall genuine acting quality, other factors contributed to my content with the performance such as the scenery. The set was very low budget, with different hanging posters symbolizing different states such as skyscrapers for New York City and the Mississippi River Bridge for the state of Mississippi. Due to this, it was largely dependent on the viewer to imagine the scene as if it were actually occurring. I embraced this challenge and actually ending up really enjoying the scenery I fabricated. It is as if you are reading a book and imagining the scenery, except that in this performance you can see what you imagine. Some might say that the lack of detailed scenery and expensive equipment makes the play seem unprofessional but this method actually encouraged more individual artistic expression.  To truly enjoy the comedy and plot, one must be able to capture his or her own imagination.

Lighting and sounds further enhance one’s plot imagination.  Often times the lighting will mimic the sunset or unique geographical lighting to elaborate on one’s senses. The lighting crew vividly portrayed scenes from an ill-lit YMCA clubroom to the booming streets of New York City during rush hour. The audio group perfectly complements such vividness by adding on the sounds of the eerie blow of a warm Louisiana wind or the dramatic pass of a 16-wheeler semi-truck. When combined, these two cinematic forces formed more than scenery; they created a world.

It was this ability to imagine combined with the hilarious plot that really made me enjoy the show. Rather than retelling a cliché tale, the writers satirically wrote this story to emphasize that finding oneself truly means the ability to accept oneself for the person they always were. It doesn’t require travel or deep religious epiphanies; simply time and confidence will suffice. I highly recommend Bike America for those who want to laugh their way into wisdom.

 

Matilda: The Bedazzling Child

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Matilda: The Bedazzling Child

Sitting in my seat minutes before the performance, I cannot help but be captivated with the set put forth for Matilda. The set entails several block letters scattered around the stage creating a very child-friendly image. These letters seem to spell out several words upon closer examination, among which the words love, joy, child, dynamite, enormous, shiny, art, and several others are discernible. Already, even before any actor is on the stage, the audience is enraptured by what is to come; and when Matilda, an adaptation of Roald Dahl’s children’s novel comes to life, the viewers are buzzing with excitement. The lights fade, and on come the energetic young actors and actresses bringing to life the world of a young child with a wild imagination with immense success.

While many of the audience members were probably drawn to the show through previous experiences with Matilda including the novel itself, written in 1988 by Roald Dahl, as well as the movie production based on said novel produced in 1996, the musical brings to the table something wholly new and enticing. The thrill of watching on as the young five year old lives her life fighting for what is right even though her parents have different ideas is incomparable to anything a movie production can offer. Sitting in the audience and watching Matilda’s life unfold, the audience members feel a connection to the young five year old, rejoicing when Matilda rejoices, and watching on silently and breathless when Matilda encounters an obstacle that she must overcome.

Set in Oklahoma, as the story unfolds, it is apparent that Matilda is different from the rest. Not only is she a child that was completely unexpected, but she is unwanted as well. While the other children boast of all the wonderful things their parents say to them, Matilda enters singing of her sorrowful family life. The show very quickly and artfully puts together Matilda’s family consisting of her mother, Mrs. Wormwood (Lesli Margherita): a dancer only concerned with looks; her father, Mr. Wormwood (Gabriel Ebert): a fraudulent car salesman who gets into all kinds of trouble through lies and mere stupidity; and her brother Michael (Taylor Trensch): a young man always portrayed as watching television and wearing a sweatshirt advertising Michael as a genius (which in itself is ironic and provides quite a few chuckles as it soon becomes apparent that it is not so). Her father never fails to call Matilda all sorts of names ranging from little worm, idiot (even though she seems to be the only intelligent family member), and a little rascal. He also perpetually refers to Matilda as “Boy”, simply because he would have preferred to have another son (not until the very end when he is rushing to get away from the Russian mafia does her dad recognize her as his daughter). Matilda very often visits the library to forget her unfortunate family life through reading and telling stories to the energetic young librarian, Mrs. Phelps, portrayed by Karen Adridge. One such story evolves, and as Matilda’s story gains momentum, it comes to life as the life of Ms. Honey (Jill Paice)- Matilda’s sweet and supportive teacher.

While the storyline itself is very well crafted, it is what goes on in between the lines that creates an uproar in the crowd. Michael’s sweatshirt is one example of many in which the director and producer of the Musical has brought humor into the production. Throughout the show, the audience is taken into a fit of laughter countless times through the simple expressions that the actors use. There is some very witty dialogue present in the scenes, and the songs themselves, as well as the appearances and mannerisms of the characters combined on stage bring about a roar of laughter from the audience. Examples of such genius include Mrs. Trunchbull, Matilda’s principal. Her appearance is outright comical (it is evident right away that the character is portrayed by a man), and her expressions and outcries are inherently humorous providing the audience an escape from the outright belligerency of her character. Mrs. Trunchbull’s motto “Bambinatum est maggitum” (“Children are maggots”) in itself proves her to be a despicable character. She enrolls the children in some very interesting physical education activities, including jumping on a trampoline and falling on a mat beside it. This scene in itself is done marvelously, and provides the viewers with a comical outlet, which proves to be important as Mrs. Trunchbull sings about her ideal world, in which children would play no role, in the meantime.

Mrs. Trunchbull is not the only character that has some very well made choreography. The children do an incredible job bringing to life the joys and sorrows that come with childhood. Not only did the young actors and actresses have to study the art of speaking in a British accent, they also had to learn the choreography and songs as well. They did an absolutely amazing rendition of the songs in the Musical, and near the end one young man absolutely blew away the audience members through his solo. The solo was comical in the sense that it was completely out of the blue, and the scene was portrayed the way movies often portray a character gaining confidence and singing. It is, however, important to note that the young man possessed a voice that is far beyond his years.

Not only are the songs performed with utmost skill, the set itself helps add to the scene. The set is incredibly well done, with tables and chairs and other little things appearing seemingly out of nowhere through them being hidden in the stage floor. One of the most artfully created scenes has to be the scene where the children are arriving at the school gates for the first time, and the older children warn them of what is to come. The gates are formatted in such a way, that giant building blocks with the letters of the alphabet fit in them. As a result, as the older children are singing, the letters of the alphabet are placed into the gate as the sounds correspond to the words that they are singing. For example, the letter q appeared when the next word to be sung was curious. The song starts of with the following:

“So you think you’re able (A-ble)

To survive this mess by being a Prince or a Princess (B-ing)

You will soon see (C)

There’s no escaping tragedy (trage-D)”

This is only a piece of the song, however it illustrates perfectly the genius construction of the song in connection to the alphabet. Another scene that is performed beautifully is the scene where Matilda tells her story. As she tells her story, it comes to life behind her on a screen. The screen shows shadow-like figures performing everything that comes out of Matilda’s mouth.

Not only does the show have extraordinary choreography and dialogue, it has an amazing set with amazing lighting as well. The viewer is guaranteed a captivating show in which children watch on speechlessly waiting for the scenes to develop. The children bring to the stage an energy that is hard to recreate, and as a result, this show is perfect for families to enjoy together.

Musical Adaptation of Matilda Worth Wait for Warm-Up

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Matilda: The Musical began awkwardly, a child’s birthday party with hurried pacing, off-time dancing, nearly-adequate diction in singing, and strange interspersing of song-and-dance numbers with theatrical events. However, by the curtain’s close, these minor irritations were corrected beautifully—I would have forgotten entirely about them, had I not been paying extremely close attention.

The musical (written by Dennis Kelly) is stationed in the Shubert Theatre and based on the best-selling book Matilda by Roald Dahl, with a deceptively simple premise: Matilda Wormwood (Bailey Ryon) is a prodigy, an avid reader, with cruel parents (Gabriel Ebert and Lesli Margherita) who scorn her mental talents and bully her consistently. Things complicate with the addition of Matilda’s new school, where a terrible headmistress, Agatha Trunchbull (Craig Bierko), terrifies the pupils—and the teachers—into obeying her every order, no matter how irrational. Both the novel and the musical have a strong focus on the idea that bullying is pathetic and that those who are thought of as “insignificant” to those who abuse power will often prevail in the face of great injustice, and a large part of that is illustrated through Matilda’s relationship to her parents and to her headmistress.

Early on in Act I, the collective “aw”s echoed through the audience as little Matilda stood up and matter-of-factly sang that her “mummy and daddy” said awful things about her and called her names. It was hard not to make the same noise when the other children in the opening song were singing that their parents said they were miracles, princesses, princes, soldiers, and ballerinas. Along that line of thought, there was a consistent usage of serious instances of child abuse as humor, and it was a little disturbing when the audience laughed at the verbal, psychological, and at some points, physical abuses. At the same time, the protagonist directly challenges the idea of slapstick humor applied in a situation where the abuser obviously wants to harm the victim with one phrase, consistent throughout the musical: “That’s not right!”

The phrase echoed in my mind while I was watching. While it sounded cliché when Matilda kept repeating that certain offenses committed by adults were unjust, the very fact that the scriptwriter kept having Matilda repeat that one line several times gave a certain grace, elegance, and validity to the musical: Matilda is our genius protagonist who has an impeccable moral code, regardless of if her parents have instilled values into her or not. The very fact that she condemns the behavior of her parents and the terrible Headmistress Trunchbull, who are all basically courtyard bullies, installs a solemnity to the idea of “slapstick” humor.

It didn’t work the whole time, however. The audience continued to laugh at things that, in any other context, would not have been funny in the slightest. At those moments, I found myself stony-faced. However, it makes sense when examined from the perspective of presentation: because most of the characters in the play are presented in a humorous manner, they do not have any form of validity, and as a result, the audience doesn’t take them seriously.  It’s obvious that we shouldn’t pay any attention to Mr. Wormwood, Matilda’s father, when he says that “reading is stupid,” but it’s hard not to pay attention to the man (and Mrs. Wormwood, who also participates in the ridicule) when everything he does and says to Matilda hurts her.

One thing the musical did not manage to pull off too well was the incorporation of Matilda’s brother, Michael (Taylor Trensch), who is portrayed as a child with a mental illness in the musical. In the book, Michael is simply rude to Matilda—he doesn’t have a mental illness and it isn’t played for laughs. In the musical, Michael wears a hoodie that says “Genius” and is treated fondly like a pet by his parents most of the time. It almost seemed to be a mockery of children with mental illnesses, presented the way it was, and it was ultimately unnecessary. Likely, there would be some who would make the argument that it was necessary to show what Mr. and Mrs. Wormwood value, but it really wasn’t necessary because the Wormwoods make their values very clear through dialogue throughout the musical. In fact, Michael’s role could have been omitted entirely from the musical, potentially avoiding the causation of offense.

Despite its shortcomings in discreetly tackling the issue of mental illness–an issue that has been hotly debated–Matilda does not fail to inspire great emotion. As Matilda is an excellent storyteller, she begins to tell her local librarian, Mrs. Phelps (Karen Aldridge), a tale about an escapologist (Ben Thompson) and an acrobat (Samantha Sturm), whose lines Matilda narrates dramatically. While she narrates, her characters say the lines in unison with her, standing behind her as if they’re her shadows. At one point, the escapologist grows so enraged that his speech, previously subdued in volume, overtakes tiny Matilda’s voice and the character almost becomes an entity in and of himself. It’s truly an amazing moment when the escapologist’s voice booms through the small theater in such a furious tone—it gave me chills. I was terrified for whoever was the subject of his vengeance, and the audience was enraptured—terrified, but enraptured.

Matilda, at its heart, is a tale of triumph against those forces of evil, the bullies in the courtyard. As the tale grew near its heart, the entirety of the musical became progressively better in quality—musically, theatrically, in terms of dance—and it was so worth sitting through the cringe-worthy beginning. The point of Matilda, regardless of what I have mentioned, is not how well its singers enunciate, not how spot-on the timing is, not how awkwardly it began. The point of Matilda lies in an empowering story about a small girl who stood up to forces that seemed so much bigger and more powerful than she was, and even when she was ready to give up and submit to those forces, she got back up and took vengeance—not just for herself, but for all of those people who could not take care of themselves. In the end, if you’re willing to entertain the actors as they warm up throughout the musical, you will feel every beautiful, wonderful emotion the musical elicits. It’s not perfect, but then again, what is?

The Unemotional Museum of German Jewry

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“The Unemotional Museum of German Jewry”

 

As one might expect in downtown Manhattan, I found a museum with a name that peaked my interest, The Center for Jewish History.  Having toured Israel and Europe extensively, as well as having attended many events and galleries here in America about Jewish history, I was nearly certain that while I may pick up a few tidbits of information, I would not be exposed to a whole new perspective of a very well known era.  The Leo Baeck Institute at the Center for Jewish History opened my eyes to a newfound world of Jews making an impact in math and engineering in a compelling fashion.

When one thinks about Jewish history they may think back to biblical times, famous rabbis, or the State of Israel.  However, very few people take a look at individuals who made contributions to the secular world.  When one thinks of galleries, they may think of abstract paintings, ancient cultures, or indecipherable languages.  One would certainly not expect to find books on explosions or thesis statements on advanced statistics.  Well, this gallery took the unconventional and made it relatable and intriguing to all different types of people.

The Leo Baeck institute is a room filled with textbooks, syllabuses, and theories composed by German Jews from the early to mid 1900’s.  Obviously, being a German Jew in that time period was impossibly challenging, with the Nazi regime gaining power and the Holocaust looming.  Businesses were destroyed, houses were evacuated, and families were ripped apart from each other; very few people think of anything productive or revolutionary when it comes to German Jews in that era.  The Baeck institute completely flipped the tragedy of the era and, while obviously not ignoring the tragedies that took place, chose to look at that era through a different lens.

Jews in Germany during the early 1900’s were the most prominent people in the country in many fields – art, science, and business to name a few.  Albert Einstein, Sigmund Freud, and Franz Kafka (!!) are just some of the most famous names that contributed timeless breakthroughs during that era, and all would be considered German Jews.  At the gallery, a visitor learns about pioneers in math such as Richard Courant, who studied in the University of Gottingen, gained a full professorship there, and in 1933 after being uprooted by the Nazis, formed an institute for graduate studies in applied mathematics at NYU.  In fact, NYU currently has a division titles the Courant Institute of Mathematical Sciences.

Book titles such as A Simple Method for Evaluating Blast Effects on Buildings by Stephen Fraenkel and The Calculation of Census Through Interpolation would not normally gouge the interest of a typical college freshman.  Surprisingly, when these books are displayed in a way that displays groundbreaking work by men facing extreme challenges in a volatile era, they become fascinating.  Sometimes, context is everything, and the Baeck institute is able to transform the mundane to the astounding by giving the visitor vital background information.

Very understandably, Jewish history is a murky topic.  Ask ten people about an event that took place in Jewish history, and one can get ten very different answers.  Whether this is because of religion or the fact that history can be blurred over time I do not know, but I do know it was refreshing to see bias taken out of the equation when it came to a Jewish history exhibit. At first it was surprising, almost alarming to see a Jewish exhibit not stress religion, sacrifice, or triumph in the face of adversity, but the fact that an undergraduate freshman from a business school, two old ladies speaking Yiddish (old mix of European languages), and a tour group from Israel consisting of mostly people in their young to mid twenties were all able to look at the same pictures, documents, and artifacts with the same view was extremely unique.

There are no feelings of self-pity or defeat, just a people working hard to make their mark in a complicated field while trying to ignore the political upheaval that surrounds them.  In almost all museums or exhibitions relating to German Jews, very graphic pictures from wartime will be blown up to enormous sizes to evoke emotions of sympathy and/or pride, the Baeck institute purely focuses on accomplishment in many formidable areas of study.

That is not to say that the institute is naïve or turns a blind eye to what was going on at the time, it simply chooses to focus on a different aspect of the time period.  Many Jews from the time period who excelled in academia had their work burned, stolen, or lost, so one can only imagine how much more impressive work would have been developed from that era had Germany been in the status quo.

Being in the cultural center of the world, downtown Manhattan, the Center for Jewish History could have drawn vast amounts of visitors by taking an “easier” approach; just show Jews from all different eras being persecuted, giving firsthand accounts of their horrid predicaments, and then give a few samples of Jews who made it out stronger than ever.  The museum, especially the Baeck institute, does something bold.  They acknowledge the impossible conditions that German Jews faced, but dwell on their accomplishments instead of highlighting their struggle.

The museum had other exhibits such as Jews in sports and Moroccan Jews in New York City, but those exhibits, while informative and enjoyable, did not have the same grasp as the Baeck institute because of how rare the vantage point of the Baeck institute truly is on a given time period.

So go on and take a subway, scenic walk, or drive to a fascinating gallery that sure not only to inform and impress with its content, but also will give a totally indiscriminate view of professionals of a certain religion climbing the ladder to success.  It may not be all that emotional, but it will nonetheless leave quite an impact on the visitor.

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Can We Ever Really Win?

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          “It’s a strange thing the way the game is played…You never really win a chess game…You play the game until the point in which the king cannot move, until you have checkmated the king…Up to the point of death…But you don’t actually win the game of chess. Instead you have agreed by strategic decision that it ends here. There is no moment that the king dies…the king can never die; it is a formal game. There is a beauty to that.”

          As I sat on a bar stool in Joe’s Pub, I needed to put down my shrimp taco, which was extremely satisfying, to wrap my brain around the metaphor Mike Daisey was formulating on stage. The chatter in the room stopped, the chewing of food paused, and the cocktails were put down on the tables of this modern day pub as people focused every fiber of their attention on Daisey.

          Situated at a wooden desk on a small stage with only a sweat rag, a glass of water, and a notepad by his side, Daisey watched us for a moment in the audience, as we eagerly waited for what he would say next. Behind him hung a painting of a man with his hand rested on his chin, his eyes looking upward. Candles scattered throughout the intimate pub lighted the room dimly. It felt like we were all in on a secret that only Daisey had the answer to and if we listened closely enough, we would understand the answer as well.

          The way we were all captivated by Mike Daisey is why he has been called the “master storyteller” of this generation. His work and abilities are so highly respected for their personal yet political style that Daisey is compared to a “modern day Mark Twain.” He is most famous for his transcript of The Agony and Ecstasy of Steve Jobs. This monologue identifies both the obsession with Apple products in American society and the mistreatment of laborers making them culminating to a hilarious yet controversial piece. His twenty-nine day monologue “All The Faces Of The Moon” however has a different motive. He dissects the ever-changing place of New York City in such a way that the audience is left to wonder if anything he says actually has anything to do with New York City.

So, we are all anxiously awaiting what Daisey will say next, and in this moment of silence and anticipation, I cannot help but stare at the oil painting set on a tripod behind him. Larissa Tokmakova creates a new piece each night that coincides with the monologue being told. This painting, aside from the man in it staring upward with his hand resting on his chin, looks like it contains a chessboard. As I come to this realization, Daisey continues his thoughts on one being unable to win chess by saying “It’s like that in our lives too isn’t it? Like if we open that door and we walk through it and we decide to leave, we can’t know what is on the other side and we can’t know who we are with respect to that absence. Death is unknowable thing, we can play right up to the point of that. It is not necessary to win, it is just necessary to play the game well enough for long enough that you find an exit strategy.” This abstract connection after a half hour of storytelling demonstrates the pure genius of these so called fictitious monologues that when listened to collectively, tell a whole story.

Somehow after making a point so serious, so thought provoking that I really begin to ponder the truth behind the statement, he rewinds the story back to being a young fat child who was destined to be very good at chess. Every person in the pub erupts in laughter. The atmosphere shifted from silence seriousness to a light, humorous mood in a matter of seconds. Regardless of the mood, Daisey would make fun of us, as the crowd with all of our “expectations” about the show’s lack of a relation to New York City and how we are all wondering why he has not directly talked about the city yet in the performance. Daisey’s insult does not feel awkward, but instead his casual tone makes the room comfortable, like we could sit back and let ourselves be surprised by the contents of the performance as the story unraveled.

The name of the monologue on the twenty-first night of the twenty-nine night series happens to be “The Devil Always Plays to a Draw” which links to Daisey’s story on chess. Is Daisey telling us that we can never win in life? As the rest of the story is told I begin to get lost in what is a story now about magic, vampires, a “Gray Woman” and Daisey’s mother who he compares to a wolf. Although I am completely mesmerized by the performance and feel as though I am a part of the story, I can’t help but wonder if maybe I missed something because it is so easy to get lost in one of the many doors Daisey opens throughout his monologue. I am a bit overwhelmed that I can no longer follow the many details of the story but at the same time, content that I, along with the rest of the crowd, am being soaked in this intellectual’s thoughts.

He has an enchanting ability to lure the audience in and grasp the attention of each member of the crowd. During the performance, I forgot how long I had been listening, how much longer the story was going to be, and above all I did not want it to end regardless of the fact that I’m lost in a world of magic. This experience is a spark of genius and I believe that Mike Daisey’s work is brilliant. Instead of feeling intimidated by the length and depth of the performance, I urge everyone to experience this intellectual yet casual atmosphere along with Mike Daisey’s stellar performances and unbelievable stories. It is truly remarkable.

The American Folk Art Museum: Alt_ Quilts Review

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Envision a collection of colors and shapes. Some are strategically placed, some overlap, some are blank, and some are overly decadent. Now take a step back. All this creates one large and captivating design. If you find that impressive, wait until you hear the actual product. Would u have guessed it to be a quilt? No? Me neither. However, these weren’t your average quilts. They didn’t resemble anything that you’d see your grandmother knitting on a cold winter’s night. These quilts shone with innovation. There were quilts created with film, and others created with envelopes.

          CAM03909

“Camouflage”

               The exhibit alt_quilts at the American Folk Art Museum was a rather small exhibit but this did not take away from the impact of the art. It features the work of Sabrina Gschwandtner, Stephen Sollins and Luke Haynes. Each artist has a remarkable connection, many marked with a signature quality. Sabrina Gschwandtner seems fixated on utilizing film negatives in her quilts, and innovation I found quite brilliant. The way the lighting reflected through her quilts and their vividness of had me mesmerized. The visual effects it had were impressive. She achieved these effects by bleaching the film in the sun and scratching it. When I examined the film close up I could clearly identify the tiny images: peope, faces, hands, hats and more. As is often the case some of Gschwandtner work was there not just to show its beauty but also to convey a message. Her work “Camouflage” was composed of two different films. One gave the impression of a happy environment in an industrial textile mill and the other depicted children creating shadow puppets. The description of this read as follows: “the artists wanted to ‘bring out the shadowy aspects of the textile mill, and to represent the idea of ‘camouflage’ in multiple ways. I found her manipulation of film quite clever.

           CAM03926           “Tumbling Blocks”

                  Sollins, on the other hand, took a different approach to creativity. He fabricated quilts with intricate patterns from envelopes or scraps of paper. I was able to identify recycled paper from capital one, post office boxes, Kohls and even marble notebook covers in his work “Untitled (Return to Sender, after Mary Jane Smith)”. It is often overlooked that everyday objects are art. I am sure most people wouldn’t consider taking their mail and compiling it so they could later construct art with it. Sollins reminds us that everyday objects can be art through his manipulation of, what many would identify, as unwanted recyclables.

            Luke Haynes work constructs usable objects from unusable cloths. His Iconography series is meant to reflect the theme “from rags to riches”. He has created an overlaid image reflecting the artists Kanye West and Jay Z in one of his quilts. I found the idea very unique. This is the very first quilt you see upon entering the museum. It is large and very eye-grabbing. I assume the largeness is a way to emphasize Hayne’s statement. Theirs is not the only face Haynes has based his quilts on. He is also known as the model of his own art. There is something about putting your face out there for the world to see that gives his work a more intimate and personal feel.

There was a section of the exhibit entitled “Quilts of Illusion”. One of these quilts was Sollins “Tumbling Blocks” which did indeed leave the impression of falling blocks. This work of art was very personal to Sollins as it was fashioned from the mail of his children and his own, representative of moments in their lives. I would have never considered the use of a quilt in a sort of scrapbooking way.  The quilt’s depth and colors makes it appear three dimensional.

The complexity of these quilts made obvious the great amount of time and effort that went into their making. There is no doubt about it, the quilts are an intriguing form of contemporary art. But, I cannot say that the quilts are simply art. They are a science. Dissecting the work I realized what an in-depth thought process the artist must go through. They figure out the placement of which material where, and how they can achieve their desired affect through this. The planning out is effortful but I wouldn’t be surprised if the physical act of putting the quilt together was more so. I must admit I was wary about attending this exhibit. “Quilts, really?” I thought, “What could be so special about them that are being displayed in a museum?” Upon entering the museum my questions were answered and doubts were erased. I must admit my favorite part of the exhibit was Sabrina Gschwandtner’s work. Not only did her work create beautiful patterns but they told a story. I enjoyed moving in closer to examine the details and specific pictures on the film negatives. I do suggest that you pay a visit to this exhibit.  If you are doubtful because this isn’t an exhibit you would normally consider attending let me reassure you that trying something new can turn out to be a success.  Sabrina Gschwandtner, Stephen Sollins and Luke Haynes prove my point.

The definition of contemporary art has spanned over time. Taking quilt making, a traditional act, and modernizing it led to the production of an enjoyable exhibit filled with remarkable work. When I completed my tour of the exhibit I glanced back at the other spectators. They seemed very entranced and I realized I must’ve looked just like that observing the quilts. I have developed new-found respect and appreciation for the art of quilt making.

CAM03955

(Proof of attendance)

A Trip to the Moon and Back

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I walked into Joe’s Pub on the lower east side with Jackie last Wednesday night for a seven o’clock show.  We decided to see All the Faces of the Moon: The Devil Always Plays to a Draw.  There would only be one person on stage; Mike Daisey would be performing a monologue.  This man had become famous and attracted “international attention” last year after performing a monologue in which he insulted Apple and Steve Jobs.  Of course, he issued an apology soon after.  I was excited to see him.

The room was fairly large, seating around 100 people.  It was dimly lit, with candles at every table.  Waiters and waitreses were walking around serving drinks and food.  We were seated in the back of the room, but still had a fine view of the stage.  I noticed there weren’t many teenagers there, or college students for that matter.  Most of the people looked in their mid-twenties and thirties.

Soon, the lights dimmed even more and Daisey appeared on stage.  He looked like an interesting character: a furry face and weighed at least 300 pounds.  Only him, a table and chair, a microphone, and a beautiful painting were on the stage.

He started off the performance answering a question he had received prior to his show.  Someone had come up to him and asked how if he memorized everything he was going to say.  He responded in disbelief that someone even asked him something like that.  How people had nothing better to talk about than something like that.  He was astounded.  He added how natural this was for him, and us as an audience were stupid for paying to come and hear him tell a story.  I laughed.

Next, he began speaking about his early childhood and how he loved to play chess.  “Chess was a wonderful game” he said, “and I was a nerd.”  He had a friendly and very confident tone throughout his story.  I could tell that he was thinking about everything he was saying before it came out of his mouth.  He commentated how chess was such a “straightforward” game, how there were no other variables, unlike poker.  All the moves were right there on the board.

He recalled the last time he had played chess was in Turkey, and began reminiscing about his past trip.  He admitted he had been depressed.  He had been in Paris and Turkey with his fiancé at the time, and didn’t enjoy himself in Paris because of his depression.  While on the topic, he said, “You pretend to be happy so you will be happy.  This is a natural human quality.”  “Only you change when you’re going through depression.  Nothing else changes – the same sun, people; they don’t change.  The sun that was shining on your face is still there after you get over it.”  I stopped my thought process and went back to this statement and realized he was right.  I had never thought of depression in that light before.

His voice varied throughout his stories.  At times, he would be talking like he would be speaking to a friend at dinner.  At other times, he would be screaming and cursing and red in the face.  This change in mood was effective in keeping the audience awake and entertained the whole time.

He then brought up a scenario in chess: when one opponent is obviously winning the whole game, but somehow still stalemates in the end.  Daisey says its one of the worst feelings to be winning the whole time and then tie in the end.  This is where I think the title of his monologue comes from.  Even when the Devil is losing throughout the whole game, he can still ruin it for his opponent by getting a stalemate.

The oil painting that sat behind him was professionally done by an artist named Larissa Tokmakova.  He has 29 total performances featuring “All the Faces of the Moon,” with a different painting each night for the month of September and the beginning of October.  Daisey held his audience’s full attention for the full hour and a half.  I only saw maybe two people leave the room during his performance, but eventually returned somewhat quickly.  Even more, he got a lot of laughs and applause too.

Daisey went into a long and complicated story involving multiple characters by the names of Elaine and the “daughter of the moon”, The New York Times, magic, and much, much more.  This story took up about half of his performance, and jumped around quite a lot.  Even after I got lost on multiple occasions, I was still entranced in everything that he was saying.

I had absolutely no idea what was going on in the story.  He gracefully went from scene to scene and I was trying as hard as I could to keep up.  The beginning I sort of understood, but after the first 20 minutes he lost me.  Cut off hands, spells, kidnapping, an “attack,” and mystery were all found in this humongous story.  I turned to Jackie at the end of the show and we both had the same question: “what the hell just happened?”

After he finished his final thought, he stood up to thunderous applause from the crowd.  The audience absolutely loved everything that he had mentioned, whether they had followed him to the conclusion or not.  His elaborate storytelling definitely impressed the crowd, myself included.

After the show, I looked him up to try to find out a little more about him.  Apparently, this one night’s story is apart of his whole chain of stories: every story he tells in All the Faces of the Moon were connected.  It was one, long continuous story that stretched through 29 nights of his monologues.

If you have the time and money, I implore you to go to one of shows.  Even if you can’t follow everything he is saying, you won’t be disappointed.  And if you can’t go to any of his shows, every show is recorded and on iTunes for free.

His one duty on stage was to tell the audience a story.  A raconteur.  And that’s exactly what he did.  The audience and I loved having heard him speak.  I wish I had the time and money to attend the other eight performances he has left!

Soul Doctor

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“Soul Doctor”

Oy gevalt is one of those lines you might hear Eric Anderson, lead role in the new Broadway production “Soul Doctor” saying. Anderson, who previously played Don Quixote in Man of La Mancha and Doctor Frank N Furter, in “The Rocky Horror Show”, is one of those characters you cannot ignore. He has a strong stage presents that can never be forgotten, and is hard to change. After seeing “soul Doctor” where Anderson plays Rabbi Shlomo Carlbach, I would have fought with anyone who questions Andersons’ true religion, clearly he is Jewish. But in truth he is not.

“Soul Doctor” is a play about Rabbi Shlomo Carlbach. Carlbach was an orthodox Jew that grew up; pre-world war II, in Nazi occupied Vienna, Austria. When the Nazis brought “hell” onto the Carlbach family, young Shlomo goes out to the streets and starts giving to the needy to express his desperation, while singing his inner feelings. When the Nazis kicked the Carlbach out of Austria, they moved to New York where his father forms a small orthodox synagogue. The chief idea of the synagogue was to retain the learning style Jews have practiced for centuries. After being stifled by the learning, Shlomo escapes to jazz clubs, without his father’s permission, where he befriends the black jazz singer Nina Simone (played by Amber Iman). They bond over the fact that both their people have been persecuted and tortured for decades and are still not treated equally. They travel parallel though separate paths, inspiring their people through sixties music to believe in black power and to return to gods faith.

This production is the biography form of Rabbi Shlomo Carlbach life. He wrote all of the music and some of the additional lyrics to this play. These lyrics are originally part of the improvisation portion of his concerts. He is famous for touching people by telling stories and giving advice through the tune of his melodies. The production itself is very moving, not only because i am Jewish and recognize the tunes from my childhood, but because it touched inner feelings I am sure everyone has questioned at some point in their lives. Where is God? This musical is the story of bringing many lost souls back to faith and the belief in God. The “Soul Doctor”, Rabbi Shlomo Carlbach, sings deep into those young lost souls until they feel god’s presence. He relates to them and makes them feel loved and noticed. He literally is a doctor for their soul.

The circle in the square theater on 50th and Broadway in New York City is the ideal location for this production. The circular and close aspect of the theater adds to the entire experience, The cast dances and sings through the rows while making you feel like you are at one of Carlbach concerts in some scenes, and in others at his temple of love on Haight Street, San Francisco. While they sway with the music they constantly encourage the audience to participate. In one scene Nina Simone approaches various audience members and urges them to clap with her. She even persuades an authentic Hassidic Jew to clap along with her, without touching him of course. Looking to my left and right I noticed everyone had a broad grin from ear to ear exemplifying the pure joy from this uplifting experience.

The costume design by Maggie Morgan is authentic and colorful. The journey Shlomo embarks upon is not only detailed by the script itself, but by the evolution of his style. Growing up he was a classic white shirt black pants kind of guy, abiding by strict rules set forth by his Hassidic sect. After being exposed to rock n’ roll and performing in San Francisco for thousands, he trades in his suit jacket for a groovy vest with a star of David and peace sign of the back.

The set design by Neil Patel was truly creative. The use of the stonewall in the backdrop for Vienna’s cobble streets, New Yorks apartment buildings, and Jerusalem’s Western Wall was a great use of the same prop. The innovative idea by Patel made me feel that I was transported to all of these places.

This is a production I would recommend to all. It is very uplifting and enjoyable. If you enjoy Jewish humor and musicals, this is the perfect combination. Although Anderson is not of the Jewish faith, in my mind he will always be the perfect musical Hassid.

 

Review: The Rubin Muesum

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The Rubin is Guggenheim’s darker, lesser known, twin sister, which does not mean to say that she is any less interesting.  The rustic simplicity of the humble five floors is connected by a spiral staircase, winding up to the translucent dome that offers little to the dimly lit space.  On the floors, bodhisattvas dance, buddhas smile serenely through glass, the hum of prayers from Tibet, India, Japan, China and Korea swirl together to form the pieces of The Rubin Museum.

The museum offers a narrative on the changing of Buddhism as it traveled across Asia.  At first, it is almost like walking through a Buddhist manual where pieces placed in glass cases, lit by perfectly angled lighting– artifacts, are dubbed art by their age and beauty.  This “art,” however, had other intended purposes.  Manuals, prayer beads, idols, healing mats, and shrines served particular religious purposes before being showcased as art.

The collection of religiously influenced pieces from Eastern Asia show the movement of Buddhism from India to as far as Northern Mongolia, Indonesia, and Japan from as early as 5000 BCE.  The gallery has a broad variety of  works from ink paintings, clay, wood, metal, and stone sculptures, tapestries, and other mediums.  As the pieces are from such different places with a broad time period from when they were created, they begin to meld together to form a story, or narrative about Buddhism as it traveled, grew, and changed.  Minute differences in interpretation of the religion caused fissures in the faith but resulted in a beautiful variation of art work.

From a distance and at first, the museum looks like a one hit wonder, with a lot of types of things that are in fact the same thing.  But in fact, each piece has its own unique history.  The works vary in their age and point of origin, and in this offer different  interpretations of Buddhism. As Buddhism changed the culture of places it went, culture changed Buddhism.  Thus the hugely different cultures that had already existed in Asia at the time became unified under a similar belief system, yet retained their own identity through their own interpretations of the belief.

Curators work to produce a linear development of Buddhist art, explaining significance and technique as you spiral down the staircase.  Videos playing on loops explain the science and pain staking process of making some of these pieces, diagrams show the mathematics involved in planning a detailed drawing, interactive maps show the movement of the religion, and diagrams show the significance behind every minute positioning of the body.  The artists’ amazing attention to detail resulted in pristine and as-close-to-perfect-as-perfect-can-get creations.

Siddhartha Gautama aimed to live a simple and peaceful life, thus creating the huge religion that is Buddhism, a religion founded on living a simple life to avoid pain and suffering.  Ironically resulting in the creation of statues made of precious metals and stones.  It is interesting to see the small fissures that occurred as Buddhism spread.  However in the opposite direction, the museum also displays a small number of humbler pieces, tucked away in corners, as wooded statues and monotone colored prayer beads do not catch one’s eyes compared to golden statues.  These pieces, though rustic and simple in their design show the true nature of Buddhism compared to attention grabbing statues.

Still, the followers of Buddhism continued to make beautiful and expensive art to honor their belief and still this belief shows in the pieces they created.  Even the gold cast deities hold an air of peace and serenity as they stand, positioned perfectly, personifying various enlightened qualities that Buddhism seeks to achieve.  These statues personify wisdom, understanding of reality, passionate action, and other major tenants of Buddhism.

The many depictions of Siddhartha show the changing nature of the religion as it traveled from place to place on the pages and tongues of followers of the belief.  Belief mixed with culture, clashed with culture, clashed with other religions, mixed with other religions, and moved north, south, east, and west, changing more and more with every mile traveled and person it came across.

I would recommend going to see the Eastern Art at the Rubin Museum of Art.  The works’ significant historical impact and natural ability to tell a story deepen the absorption of the pieces.  The curators did a brilliant job of establishing a timeline and setting historical context to the exhibit.  Likewise, they point the viewer to look at specific details, showing the process and planning involved in creating these pieces.  The advanced technology of the times and the culture’s attention to detail result in near perfect pieces that is almost overlooked in a time where products churned out from a machine seem perfect as well.  The museum is a great escape from Western culture and provides a fresh breath of air by transporting us to a simpler time under a simpler idea.  The exhibit prods viewers to look deeper into Buddhism, a belief system that is often generalized and placed under an asian category.  Instead it offers a new perspective on the religion, showing its many sides, and different interpretations of the belief as it grew, changed, and molded many different cultures in Asia during this time.

The exhibits at the Rubin may seem repetitive, but the minute details of pieces show the elaborate thought behind the works, the dedication to detail, and the practice of Buddhism.  The museum not only tells a story, but shows the history of the growth and change of the religion.  The repetitive nature of the pieces allows the museum itself to become a mantra, chanting the ideals of Buddhism.  Though the religion has changed, the main ideals are still put forth in the each piece on display.  Look at that gold deity, or a string of wooden prayer beads and somewhere far away, you can still hear the chanting prayer of Siddhartha Gautama.

 

Review: Around the World in 80 Days

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I had a couple of reasons for choosing to review this play. Chief among them was the fact that out of the four shows I was interested in seeing, the ticket for Around the World in 80 Days was, at $45, the cheapest. Don’t get me wrong, though—I was excited to see the play. I remember reading the book on my own in fourth grade, and absolutely loving it.

The year is 1872. Our main hero is an Englishman by the name of Phileas Fogg. Despite the fact that he’s very wealthy, he lives a modest life, and he lives it with machine-like precision (in fact, in the beginning of the story, we learn that he fired his old manservant for bringing him shaving water that was 84 degrees, instead of 86). He’s a bachelor, and has no relatives or friends; in fact, the only thing he has by way of a social life is his membership to the Reform Club. The plot of the story is set in motion one evening when the other Club members discuss an article in The Daily Telegraph that declares that, thanks to the completion of a new railway in India, it is now possible to travel around the world in just 80 days. The other Club members are skeptical of this claim, but Fogg believes that it is entirely possible. Thus, a wager is made between Fogg and the other members for 20,000 pounds (about $8.5 million USD in 2013, according to the playbill), and with only a carpetbag, a few articles of clothing, half his bank account, and Passepartout, his newly hired manservant, Fogg sets off on his trip around the world. Throughout the journey, he is pursued by a Scotland Yard detective named Fix, who believes Fogg is a bank robber, and whose desperate efforts to arrest him while he’s still on British soil fail comically each time.

When I arrived, I realized that the ticket seller at the Tkts booth hadn’t been kidding when she said it was a small theater. It was in what had obviously once been an apartment building, and if it hadn’t been for the posters and signs declaring the name of the show, I’d have probably passed by it without a second thought. The inside of the theater was even smaller—there were only twelve rows, and another three on the balcony. The rows were only 10 seats wide, excluding the aisle. I knew I had paid to see an off-Broadway show, but this theater was smaller than the one at my high school. Still, I had high hopes, just based on the room decoration: both walls on either side of the orchestra were painted to look like a room with windows overlooking the rooftops of London.

The show did not disappoint. From the very beginning, it was exactly the sort of “fun frolic” the playbill promised it would be, and just the kind of hilarious, wild-goose-chase adventure I personally felt a story of its kind ought to be.

One of the things that struck me was how much the actors were able to do and show with such a small space, a set that remained the same throughout the entire show, and so few props. The stage was only as wide as the room, and included a second tier that appeared even smaller; most of the props were already built into the set, and a few of the ones that weren’t were as simple as two steamer trunks and a wooden column that served as both a custom official’s desk and the helms of two different steamships. But uniformity of the set and the simplicity of the props only served to showcase the skills of the actors even more—at various points in the show, they were able to vividly recreate in the audience’s minds the images of an elephant ride though the jungle, a ship caught in a typhoon, and a journey by train across the Great Plains.

Another thing I was really impressed by was the actors’ flexibility. In one of the online summaries of the show, it was touted that the play only had five actors playing some 80 roles. I went into the show wondering how they were going to pull that off; I left it with the answer, “with seeming ease”. With the exception of Guy LeMonnier, who portrayed Phileas Fogg himself, all the actors had many roles to play and different outfits to don, with character and outfit changes often taking place right onstage. What was incredible was the fact that they were able to make each minor character memorable; in particular, I was very impressed with James Seol. Although all of his characters were minor, he was able to bring each one to life and give them all distinct, unique personalities. In the beginning of the play, for example, he’s a member of the Reform Club, and seems as though he was written by someone whose entire knowledge of English culture came from watching Monty Python; later on, he reappears as General Proctor, a gun-slinging cowboy who’s the very embodiment of zealous American patriotism. Those are only two of the wide range of roles he popped up in, but given how radically different they are, I think it’s a testament to his ability that he was able to perform as two radically different characters.

I was very happy watching the play. It was clever, and it kept me laughing the whole way through. I would definitely watch it again.