The Arts in New York City

I have attended the opera before, and enjoy it very much. I enjoy the vocal feats, the music, the elaborate sets and costumes. Opera, as some have said, will continue because it is considered by society to be the epitome of culture. However, I don’t believe opera needs to seem inaccessible, nor do I believe it should be put on a pedestal above other art forms.

I have friends who have also attended the opera, but who do not enjoy it in the least. When I have asked out of curiosity what they did not like, they were not entirely sure. I wonder if it doesn’t have something to do with the way opera “sells itself.” The splashiness of opera is not necessarily what makes it inaccessible (many who dislike the opera enjoy the splashy Broadway show), nor is it the use of a foreign language (many who dislike the opera enjoy foreign films). Rather, I believe it is the stereotype that only the elite attend the opera, that the opera is some erudite form to be prized above others. If opera is to reach a wider audience, and if it is to be embraced by that audience, I believe opera must be presented as just another form of music/theater. It must detach itself from its over-the-top and more-cultured-than-thou attitude. There will still be those who dislike it, but it may encourage those who find it unapproachable to experience it.

~Christina Marinelli

I, for one, thoroughly enjoyed the opera. I liked how the audience could find lines funny, even though the script had been written so long ago. After the first Act, I realized that I did not need to look at the words in order to know what was going on. I started playing a little game with myself, where I imagined dialouge based on the characters actions on stage. I loved the set design and costumes, but couldn’t help but think that they were a bit dated. I wonder if there are any “modern” operas, or even opera companies. I personally prefere classical styles, but it is always nice to know that there is an alternative art form out there, or that there is something that is similar yet different.

The musical seems to be the most modern interpretation of the opera, yet these two art forms are increadably different from each other. I found myself wondering why no one has written operas for contemporary times, or why the costume and set design teams haven’t taken more liberties. Good art pushes people to think about things they do not necessarily want to think about. I believe that art pushes society foward and helps it advance. It is important to look to the past while pushing foward, but something in the art has to be new and intriguing, and frightening. There is nothing new or scary about opera, it exists exactly as it has for the past 150 years and more.This was not the first opera I have attended, and from my past two experiences, I put together a good assesment of what this experience would be like.

I found that I was dissapointed when my assesment turned out to be correct. Further, I was surprised to find that I really do value modern art and modern art forms, even if I do not enjoy them aesthetically.

–Noah

PAPER on DANCE

I have now read quite a few drafts for this paper, and thought it might be a good idea to remind you that you have resources you could use, to help you with the substance of your argument:

you can use the blog entries, yours or a friends (please acknowledge it in a footnote, though) to refresh your memory of the performances at the Joyce Theater

you can watch again some of the clips we saw in class. The DVD are in my mailbox, untouched so far, but at your disposal if you want to refresh your memory. You also have a document (I believe I sent it to you as an Email attachment) that gives you the exact references for each DVD and the samples I showed you.

I have left there also the copy of the magazine on mentoring artists, which features an interesting discussion about the encounter between a modern choreographer and a dancer from Africa (Togo). If you are looking for ideas about what distinguishes African Dance, this is a very useful piece. 

More generally, I want to remind you (in case you hadn’t noticed it), that the new challenge in this paper is to write about the dancing body. You can do so as a careful, involved observer of dance as an artform, or from inside, as having danced yourself (if only once, at Alvin Ailey’s!), or as a combination of both. Wherever your argument takes you, remember to write about dance (and not just about ideas on dance…)

    I ‘ll be available in my office on Tuesday between 3:45 and 5:15 if you have any questions about your paper or the final project.

      Happy Thanksgiving.

          EE

Having seen this opera and fully enjoying it, I am having difficulty deciding whether or not it has to do with love at all. While, yes, Figaro and Susanna seem to be in love and the Count and Countess are having difficulty dealing with the powers of eros, I don’t think that the main purpose of this opera is the dealings of romantic emotions. I believe it has a deeper meaning that underlies the human condition to be wanted and the ultimate gesture of forgiveness. I believe the most powerful line in the opera was when the Countess said “I will forgive you.” This instantly evoked a new emotion from the Count that we had not seen before, and these four words changed the entire meaning of the opera for me. We are all human and we all need to be loved, and yet, no one is perfect. Mistakes are always made, people are constantly being hurt, but true growth comes from forgiveness, and true love comes from understanding. Although the Count may not love the Countess (and visa versa), she exemplifies the kind of character that we all strive to attain. There is, indeed, hope in the fact that people are generally good. We do not need to be in love to care for another person and sometimes love grows from great gestures such as the Countess’s. In terms of Spring Awakening, I believe the relationship between Melchior and Wendla is similar to that of the Count and Countess in that we are not sure if they actually love one another, but we do know that each person has mutually helped their partner grow in one aspect or another. People are always flawed, but it is in the realization of this inevitability that we learn how to deal with our mistakes. It is the underlying goodness in all of us that The Marriage of Figaro is attempting to convey, not necessarily the romantic aspect of falling in love.

The opera performance reaffirmed all I had heard about Le Nozze di Figaro in class and what I read about opera performances in our assigned texts. For me, reading Music and the Theater, An Introduction to Opera (Pauly 19-27) was particularly helpful in appreciating the live opera experience. I recognized its many elements – operatic singing, acting, orchestra, chorus, staging – both individually and in concert, their coalescence into an art form that, in its inherent state, is a most precarious balance between the five yet demands a flawlessness bordering the impossible. I thought we witnessed an excellent “coalescence” at the Met that night, not because of our own unfamiliarity, but because of the aptitude of the cast and their mastery of opera’s many facets.

The opera experience may have been a bit more unique to me in that at home and at school I have become very familiar with Italian. My “Nonna” spoke an Italian dialect (which is, as you know, very different from the language in its true form) to my sister and me as children, and I took 3 ½ years of Italian in high school. I was able to pick up on some words and phrases during the performance, but unfortunately I have forgotten much of what I learned already. This signaled to me not only that I should re-familiarize myself with my lingual heritage, but it also reminded me of just how difficult speaking and understanding a foreign language is. If I, an Italian language speaker, had difficulty with the opera’s content, I can only imagine how difficult it must be for the Figaros and Susannas of the world to speak, sing, and appreciate Italian during a live performance. Our cast, I thought, did an excellent job of “bringing the art form closer to its ideal as a seamless blend of drama and music,” critical to any opera’s success, as columnist Charles Isherwood would say. I would like to add to that definition “a seamless… incorporation of the emotional texture of a foreign language.” I appreciated all of their efforts to deliver a spectacular performance.

– Gia

I agree with Jaimie. I couldn’t have said it better myself. But to reiterate, I will now explain why I didn’t like the opera.

I don’t deny the opera’s credibility as an esteemed, long-standing form of art. It is artistic and it is something to be admired for the amount of work that is put into it, but it is just too much. Maybe I am too simplistic, or maybe the opera is too refined for my tastes. Whatever the case, I have never been able to sit through and thoroughly enjoy every minute of the four hour long experience. This is not to say, however, that opera isn’t deserving of the hype it is given. In no way am I demeaning opera’s reputation. I am merely saying that I don’t like it. From movies such as “Diva” to commonly known things such as Pavarotti’s high-maintenance lifestyle and famous opera “prima donnas”, I feel like opera is pushing the envelope.

When you look at Broadway actors (with the exception of a few Hollywood has-beens who turn to the stage once California proves to no longer provide the stardom they’re looking for), you see people. Normal, everyday people. They’re talented, yet grounded. After seeing “Spring Awakening” in August we were given the chance to one-on-one pose questions and receive real answers from the cast; I could never imagine doing this with opera singers. I don’t mean to generalize, however, it is apparent that opera stars are more commonly seen as lavish than their Broadway counterparts.

Opera has for centuries been know as extreme. I am not the only person to argue its extremity in every aspect. In spite of this, though, I am perhaps one of the few unwilling to embrace its extreme nature. I consider myself to be a passionate person, yet cannot agree with Lindenberger in his book Opera: The Extravagant Art. While he presents the idea that opera, in its extravagance, becomes “the language of passion”(150) and that the “role of passion in opera, an insistence on opera’s affinities with extreme human situations recurs throughout the major commentaries of all periods”, I see opera’s passionate extravagance as unnecessary. Poems, literature, understated natural beauty is what for me renders passion. Not a “tenor lifting [his] sausage arms skyward, ignoring the soprano as he ardently professes his love to the grand tier.”(Isherwood)

It is this that initially turns me away from opera: its excessiveness, its frilly splendor. While in line for the bathroom Wednesday I wondered to myself how many people in attendance were actually there for the vocal talent and musical ingenuity of Mozart, rather than just for the status-quo appearance, to keep up with the joneses.

It is hard for me to pinpoint exactly what it is in opera that rubs me the wrong way. I undoubtedly consider myself to be a patron of the arts, and will continue to remain open to the idea of opera as an art-form. I, like Jaimie, “am sure that opera will enjoy a long full life, as society esteems opera well beyond its worth.”, however, I don’t know how many more performances I personally will attend.

I think opera is just like any other art form: modern art, classic art, ballet, modern dance, sculpture, etc, etc. Either you like it or you don’t. You can learn as much as you want about the art form and form a sense of respect for the art, but that doesn’t necessarily mean you come to like it.

Anyway, I appreciate having gone, and apologize for any disrespect that may have been sensed in my initial post. That was unintentional and simply a brash, unprecedented, and not very thoroughly thought out immediate reaction to Wednesday night. I just didn’t like it. It isn’t my cup of tea. But for those who do enjoy it, “bravo.”

-C. Detrow

Though the plot of The Marriage of Figaro seems trivial and superficial, a simple story about bored, unfaithful lovers playing tricks on one another, it was, in fact, subversive and revolutionary in its time. Mozart, as many artists, did sense winds of change in society, changes in the relationships between servant and master, man and woman, but that Napoleon went as far as to call it the basis of the French Revolution seems absurd. Other themes of the opera- sex, tyranny, class- are of course relevant today, but it is not so much the story or the message that does not impress me.

The Marriage of Figaro was not my first opera, nor, I fear, my last. I am sure that opera will enjoy a long full life, as society esteems opera well beyond its worth. Again, it is not that the actual stories have no values or morals, it is that the art form itself is overvalued. While an opera is no more than an ornate Broadway musical, people call it a “high art.” It is considered entertainment for the elite, performance for the privileged, when it is on par with almost every other sort of entertainment. People look forward to openings, memorize songs in languages they do not understand, and talk of the opera as an otherworldly delight. I understand that some people do actually enjoy the singing sopranos, the trilling, the arias; they appreciate this niche vocal ability, whereas I find the sound grating on my ears. The sensory experience of the opera is unpleasant and undesirable to me. I consider the singing to be exaggerated and overdone, much like the rest of the performance. The acting, the costumes- everything is excessive; opera is overdone, overdressed, over-performed, and over-appreciated. Even the sparkle of the costumes is ridiculous. The only “high” aspect of this art form is the pitch of the singing.

Of course, one could argue the same for any art form- that it’s too much, or too little, but as with all other art forms, some people like it, some pretend to, and some do not.

–Jaimie

       NEEDED by TUESDAY 27^th at the latest, so what we can have a discussion in class.

Please prepare a comment on our recent event, the performance of THE MARRIAGE OF FIGARO, in the form of a thoughtful (but of course, personal and expressive) statement.

    I would like to focus on ONE among these three issues I single out below OR, possibly, to identify a new one.

       1) Opera is high art, isn’t it, but, having seen this performance do you think it still has a future for younger generations. What got you involved, where did you have difficulties?

      Note that, for the “cognoscenti” (i.e. those in the know), this particular opera is rated extremely high, and thus your critique might lose in relevance if you argue too closely about the piece. This question invites you to think about the genre of opera itself.

       2) Where do you stand on the question I asked you to think about, i.e. is this an opera about LOVE or about EROS (lust or “libido” as Freud would have said).

            Was I right to suggest that there links to be made between SPRING AWAKENING and THE MARRIAGE OF FIGARO?

       3) Having now seen a live and full performance, do you think I am right in claiming that opera is, like film, “a universal language” (picking up on what you may have heard at the movie theater, provided you don’t only go for Hollywood blockbusters)? Was I right that, in the end, it does not matter that we do not get every word in an opera? Was I right when I suggested that in this art form the message is not delivered only as a story-line or theater? What impressed you, what spoke to you in the opera, thinking of its combination of musical score, singing, drama, staging, lighting design etc.?

       4) INVENT your own question…

I look forward to reading your comments 

Last week’s dance class was great. Coming into the dance studio, I was eager to find out what kind of dance we were going to learn. When I realized it was a West African dance, I grew both curious and excited. In learning the dance, I learned to feel every movement of my body. I was able to exaggerate my movements and at the same time regiment them. I felt both loose and strong. I was especially fond of the way the dance was taught. By learning the dance in stages, we were able to pick up the dance quickly and efficiently. It also made the process more exciting. In this way, I was able to understand the process of choreography and to see for myself how each piece and each movement connected to produce a final masterpiece. I must say that I felt proud of my peers at the end of the dance session. Not a single person was left out of the dance and I feel confident in saying that we each could individually perform the dance again. All mechanics aside, the experience was truly fun and valuable. I hope to be given the privilege to participate in a similar activity in the future.

Louis

I had been looking forward to the dance class at Alvin Alley for some time, mainly because I had no idea what to expect. I assumed we’d all have fun embarrassing ourselves, and it appears as if we did. I knew it was a primarily African-American founded dance company, but I never made the connection that we were going to do African dance until we arrived.

Participating in a class like this (which, by the way, was my first dance class) allows you to further appreciate dance, because you are forced, for an hour and a half, to live like a dancer. You are forced to make some of the same motions that they do when you watch them in a performance. And I learned and noticed so many things about dance that I hadn’t noticed before. First, as I said in the follow-up discussion after the class, it’s amazing how you can naturally become synchronized with twenty other people in the room. You understand that you have to move at the exact same speed and in the exact same way as everyone else, but you can’t look at them to make sure. When you’re performing, you just have to know that you are in sync with everyone else up there. And it’s amazing that, as Louis said, by the end of it, we were all in sync without even putting in any active effort in trying to be in sync. And the interesting thing is the dance instructor allowed us to get in sync with each other at our own pace. He knew we weren’t going to do it perfectly the first time, so he didn’t say anything. He respected that we were novices, but felt that we were capable enough to eventually synchronize with each other.

Late that night, I went to dinner with some friends (at this really good Moroccan restaurant/lounge in the East Village called ZERZA). I told one of my friends, who I hadn’t seen in four months, that I had taken an African dance class that afternoon. She said she had taken African dance classes in the summer, and she remembered that she was extremely sore the day after taking her first class. Now, she is an experienced dancer, but she probably wasn’t doing anything much more rigorous than what we were doing in our first class. I said to her, “I don’t think I’ll be sore. I didn’t feel like I was overexerting myself or sweating profusely.” She said, “Neither did I. It felt easy, but then the next day, I was really sore.” I was wondering if anyone had a similar experience to the one that my friend had the next day. I personally didn’t feel anything the next day, but did anyone else? I’d be curious to know how the dance class physically affected everyone’s bodies.