Author Archives: annmarieerricowrites

A (Long) But Lovely Evening of Choral Music

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This past Wednesday, December 14th was the last choral concert of the fall semester. I participated in this concert as part of the Women’s Chorus, but due to our spot on the program (after intermission), I took the opportunity to watch the first half of the show.

The repertoire was almost all Baroque/sacred music, and I’m sorry to say that the selection of music disappointed me a bit. Yet again, I am not the biggest fan of Baroque music or the mind-numbingly repetitive “agnus dei, gloria in excelsis deo” Latin stuff either, so I don’t know if I have the authority to say that the lineup wasn’t impressive. Whether I liked the music or not, though, I can’t deny that the concert was an excellent display of the marvelous vocal abilities of the students and adults who are part of this school.

The vocal ensemble is a perfect example. They performed every other act, alternating between the instrumental Baroque ensemble. The harmonies were beautiful and lush, which is extremely hard to do considering that much of the music was a cappella. I did particularly like a funeral piece that the group performed, which had very sentimental lyrics. They also performed the music with a lot of passion and feeling- even if it was repetitive Latin blessings, they sang the music as if it was the most personal work.

I also was looking forward to hearing the Concerto for Recorder- as someone who has played the recorder since the third grade (and succeeded in getting very good at it), I couldn’t wait to hear it performed on a collegiate level. I soon remembered why I stopped playing, however. Though the piece was very technically difficult, the sound of the recorder quickly got annoying and began to resemble the sound of a pan flute- I learned that night that I can only handle a little bit of recorder- not a full concerto’s worth.

The Women’s Chorus definitely added a fun, modern touch to the concert. We did perform a couple of Baroque pieces: “Gloria” and “Lauda Jerusalem”, which utilized a group of string players, but my favorites to perform had to have been our modern pieces, the gospel song “Music Down In My Soul” in particular. Performing that song and getting the whole audience to clap along was wonderfully fulfilling. Hearing them giggle along to our Portuguese folk song “Rosa Amarela” was also fun too 🙂 Overall, I’d say we ended the semester on a wonderful note! (get it?)

I Bet You Didn’t Know About Gamelan Before This Semester!

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A friend of mine has frequently made the point that the number of musical genres is expanding over time. He cites the Medieval period, in which he states that for over a thousand years in history, all of the music produced during that time is simply called “Medieval music.” Fast forward to the present day, and there are millions of subgenres under each genre of music: within rock, there is soft rock, hard rock, alternative rock, classic rock, punk rock, etc., and within jazz, there is smooth jazz, cool jazz, bebop, a cappella vocal jazz, modern jazz, latin jazz, etc. As one who is constantly discussing and finding new music, I thought I had heard of all the genres there possibly are, but through the magic of Queens College I’ve learned of yet another one- Gamelan.

Gamelan is a genre of music native to Bali that utilizes native Indonesian instruments, which our class got a private tour of during class with professor-for-the-day Michael Lipsey as a precursor to the gamelan concert on December 5th. We all had the chance to play these gamelan instruments and learn about how the music is constructed. It uses a pentatonic scale, meaning that there are five basic notes (excluding different octaves) on which the music is built. During the class in which we got to try out the instruments, I confess that while it was fun to play, the sound of the music got boring and repetitive after a while.

Could this be why gamelan ensembles always supplement their performances with other facets like dance and costume? Could be. The concert began very interestingly with a queue of drummers walking on stage from the back of the LeFrak concert hall, clad in traditional Balinese dress. At the center of the stage was a girl at the gongs (she is in women’s chorus with me, her name escapes me). The command and firmness with which she hit them was very cool to see- in my opinion she looked like some sort of musical empress.

While gamelan music is arguably limited with the simplicity of the scale it employs, the variety of instruments used and the way the music is performed makes one forget about its “boringness.” Some of the songs featured musicians on gamelan “flutes”, which had a piccolo-like sound. Another song featured two hypnotic and beautiful dancers who tossed flower petals like confetti as they danced. Another song began with a duet between two players on a metallophone-like instrument. It reminded me of a cappella jazz solos that usually precede big band or combo jazz tunes. The gamelan tradition also definitely allows for soloing and individual creativity, though admittedly I could not distinguish solos from the rest of the instruments. The problem with gamelan, even though I like the sound of it and may even consider joining the gamelan ensemble one year, is that all of the instruments are obnoxiously loud. It makes the music sound like a wall of sound; to an untrained ear, it is simply a racket, and to trained musicians, it can take patience to try and distinguish where exactly the music is going. All in all, it is a very communal genre of music that doesn’t stress strictness in notation and rhythms as severely as classical music. It is meant to be fun music for everyone to participate in, and judging by how welcome we all were to try out the instruments for ourselves- even those of us with no musical experience – it is a great testament to that!

Very Cool Repertoire for a Very Cool WInd Ensemble

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On December 8th, I spent my evening in the Music Building and saw the Queens College wind ensemble and concert band perform. As a former woodwind player, (recorder and bass clarinet throughout elementary and middle school), I felt somewhat nostalgic sitting in the audience watching the show. What I was more impressed by, however, was the stellar quality of the ensembles as a whole, the wind ensemble in particular. Even when revisiting the podcast later, I felt that I was hearing professionals (which is rather ironic, considering how unsure a lot of the performers felt of their sound prior to the show).

The concert consisted mostly of modern repertoire – my favorite – written by composers I had previously never heard of. The first song was the fun “Florentiner March”, a parade-like piece that reminded me of the festive beginning of the Overture from the opera Carmen. Another song utilized the humongous organ in the LeFrak concert hall, which of course sounded amazing in the high ceilinged room with wonderful acoustics.

I was pleasantly surprised to see just how much jazz music influences how I listen to other genres. I’ve been listening to a lot more instrumental jazz music lately, particularly the work of horn players, so it was fun to find sections of  the songs that would unexpectedly start swinging, or if a melodic line suddenly followed a blues scale. I was especially pleased that saxophones were utilized at all; as a more modern instrument, they aren’t found in classical repertoire (as cool as it would be, there are no saxophones in Suor Angelica or Don Giovannni), but they were definitely a lovely addition to this concert: they had all the difficult “riffs” in the backgrounds of the songs, and it made the sound of the band all the more warm. On top of that, I left knowing pieces by seven composers I previously hadn’t heard of, my favorite being the last one, “Give Us This Day – Short Symphony for Wind Ensemble.”

 

Click this link and scroll down to where it says Queens College Concert Band in boldface to hear a podcast of the concert!

“What Is It?” “I don’t know…”: De Kooning At MoMA

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Discussing Williem de Kooning and seeing the exhibit of his work at the MoMA was my first time ever hearing of and experiencing his work. Overall, I felt that our visit to this exhibit brought our Arts in NYC class full circle, for our first major class outing was to the Jewish Museum to see the Cone Sisters exhibit, featuring works by Picasso and Matisse. While looking at the de Kooning exhibit, I couldn’t help but feel that I had seen these paintings before. I soon realized that I was comparing them to my memories of the Picasso and Matisse paintings we saw at the Jewish museum.

If I had to describe de Kooning’s paintings in this light, I would say that he takes Picasso and Matisse to the next level. Like Picasso, de Kooning did do lots of pantings depicting the female form, and like the both of them, de Kooning is definitely an abstract artist. Of the three of them, however, de Kooning is clearly the “craziest” – he takes the Picasso woman and the Matisse bold colors and swathes his women (and other subjects, still life and all) in a practically unintelligible swirl of scribbles. That’s just the thing: is it unintelligible, or is it supposed to have a hidden message? Walking through the exhibits, my colleagues and I would look at particularly “messy” paintings- those covered in scribbles as opposed to his cleaner, later works – and we would try to find the “subject”, particularly for the Untitled works. We found an assortment of faces, animals, phallic symbols, etc., but looking at these paintings was like looking at clouds in the sky: these pantings literally can have anything and everything in them. A lot of the time, de Kooning doesn’t say what is supposed to be seen in these paintings- even the clearly titled ones seem misleading – so you are left doubting whether your interpretation is “on the right track” or not.

While I usually like to try the meaning in all art, while walking through this exhibit I felt that a lot of de Kooning’s work appeared to be “art for art’s sake.” It seems to be a dirty word in the art world, but as an artist myself I find that I often don’t think of the “intention” or “message” of my work. A lot of the time, I just sing or write, and I’m not trying to make sure my audience sees a certain thing. In this sense, de Kooning’s work is very freeing. If you can believe that he wants you to interpret the art your way, you’ll have no trouble letting your mind roam, as freely as say, his piece Merritt Parkway. 

My First Collegiate Opera

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A month ago I had the pleasure of participating in my first production of a college opera.. The Opera Workshop performed Puccini’s Suor Angelica on November 18th and 19th. As a lowly freshman, I was merely part of the opera’s chorus of nuns, but I found the entire production a great learning experience, and it was especially cool to work with Maestro Maurice Perress. Because these performances were in the same week as my SING performance, I found that seeing the opera slowly being put together was comparable to putting the musical together as well.

This experience has taught me the importance of knowing your productions very well. With every production that you’re in, whether it’s an opera, an oratorio, or a Broadway musical, knowing the material backwards and forwards is the secret to enjoyment of your performance and creating a memorable, heartfelt story.

I cite the many rehearsals for this production as an example. We had probably twenty of them from start to finish, and of many different varieties. Some were reading through the complex Italian words, most were going through the chorus parts on the piano, towards the end there were lots of orchestra rehearsals, but the one I feel was the most beneficial was the one where we watched the opera first. I now understand why Professor Smaldone had us watch Don Giovanni before we went to see it at the Met. Filmed productions of operas with subtitles capture every facial expression and every word that seats in the nosebleed section of the Met can’t capture. In terms of rehearsing for an opera, seeing the emotions portrayed by others helps you empathize and get into character, even if it is just “learning by imitation.”

All those rehearsals paid off, though, tedious or not. The finale of the opera, where the statue of the Virgin Mary comes alive (similar to the statue of Donna Anna’s father in Don Giovanni) and reveals to Suor Angelica her son, is the only time I’ve cried while performing, so much so that I wasn’t able to sing. Singing from the balcony seats at the opera’s finale allowed me to watch the opera as an audience member- I saw everything that we spent hours in rehearsals for: the reason why we sang certain passages again and again, the reason why the singers playing Suor Angelica marked their performances during rehearsal: it was all building up to that pivotal moment where Suor Angelica, in a fit of agony, hallucination, relief, bliss, and hysteria, sees her son. As opera will have it, he appears at the exact moment the orchestra can’t crescendo any louder, and a spotlight is shone, hitting his golden hair just right (note: her son is actually played by a she). In the production, I was a nameless nun, but I felt all the pain of Suor Angelica, and that is another reason that reinforced my wanting to be a director and playwright. I want to be the god that created that beautiful moment onstage.

I Give You: Tim Minchin!

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Ask me what my favorite music is, and I won’t be able to avoid talking about him. Ask me who inspires me, and he will probably be the first name I mention. I’m talking about my musical idol, pianist/singer/songwriter Tim Minchin. How big of a fan am I? I’ve seen him four times and counting, traveled as far as Washington D.C. to see him, waited by the stage door after every show to meet him and get one of his famous bear hugs. Creeped out yet?

So, as the one year anniversary of me discovering Tim Minchin’s music approaches (It was January 12th, he was the musical guest on Conan), I thought it fitting to blog about thoughts that my latest Tim Minchin concert experience provoked, which happened on November 4th at the Town Hall in Manhattan.

As aforementioned, Tim Minchin is a pianist, singer, and songwriter. He is also a very gifted comedian. He usually performs solo in the cabaret style, alternating between playing songs and telling jokes. He is not your run-of-the-mill Jerry Seinfeld, however. The reason why Tim Minchin holds the key to my heart is because his brand of comedy is extremely intellectual and philosophical. While his jokes are laugh-out-loud funny, every one of them is based on modern day issues and meant to be thought about seriously at the end of the day. His jokes are about mostly controversial subjects, mostly evolution, atheism, the corruptness of organized religion, etc.

In this manner, Tim is a lot like the groundbreaking artists we’ve examined all semester long in class. Tim’s music is still definitely not understood by most of the world. The overall conservativeness of American values (despite pockets of liberalism as seen strongly in New York City) makes Tim’s audience limited to only those who can handle the starting nature of his frankness, verboseness, frequent cursing, and unconventional appearance.

At the concert, Tim told a joke that examined what makes things sacred. It involved him taking a copy of the Qur’an and a copy of Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows and swapping their book sleeves- he kept on asking, “is anything sacred as long as you have the word ‘Qur’an’ on it?” He went on to ponder whether it’s the title, the cover, or the text that makes a physical object sacred. This entire bit reminded me of the countless debates we’ve had over “what makes something good art?” Is art good because of the artist who creates it? Is the artist good because of the art he or she creates? Tim’s song “Beauty”, in my opinion, is a great attempt at answering these questions. He himself says he doesn’t know what the song means, but I see it as a lament on what the world’s obsession with beauty does to art and the people who create it.

I’ll try not to spam with too many links. Here is a wonderful introduction-to-Tim song.

Here is a very serious song about Prejudice.

Here is a ballad that will make you cry.

And here is a 9 minute jazz backed beat poem.

Note: Tim also has penned the music to Matilda the Musical, which is playing in London at the moment, but there’s no doubt in my mind that it will eventually come to Broadway 🙂

Raise Your Voice and SING!

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As someone who attended a performing arts high school, I am well-versed in participating in concerts and theatrical productions of existing works, classical and modern alike. Never in my life, though, would I have imagined myself writing my own musical from scratch. That is exactly what I did a month ago, thanks to the wonderful opportunity given to the seven Macaulay campuses to participate in Macaulay Honors’ first ever SING musical-writing competition.

I couldn’t tell you how many total hours were spent on producing this musical, and to sum all of those hours up into one blog post would be foolish and impossible. I can say that already, I feel that I’ve had a major epiphany regarding my future career(s). I am now seriously considering being a playwright/director at some point in my life. The outcome of this entire backbreaking production has got me hooked on putting on shows! You never know your true artistic abilities until the musical you’ve been working on with a tiny group of classmates has snowballed from a little idea into a real production with lights, props, music, the works!

So, what was this marvelous play about, you ask? Our play follows three Manhattan roommates when it is suddenly discovered that a comet is heading directly for earth. With the eight-ish or so hours they have left, they set out to fulfill the most dire items on their bucket lists, be it confessing love, making up with estranged brothers, or doing a concert in Central Park.

A bit of background information on who did what: I was the head writer; fellow Macaulay Queens student Anastasia Deda and I were the directors (and by the final week, our own Mitch Guido was an unofficial director too); Mitch and I composed and recorded the music, and a handful of students from this Arts seminar class acted in it, too! Now, for some dramatic synopses:

Carlsky stars as Johnny, the handsome (and taken) neighbor of the roommate Erin, whom Erin has secretly loved for five years!

Yossi is Paul, the hobo/estranged brother of the roommate Manny, played by Zach Adler!

Mitch plays the bitter jazz saxophonist Max Herk, who gave up playing after being rejected from every college music program he applied for!

And yours truly, Annmarie, plays Amelia, the Pennsylvania-native aspiring jazz singer who just wants a gig, but Max’s stubborn anti-vocalist position stands in her way in her last hours of life!

And yes, the musical turned out as wonderfully as these characters make it seem. If you haven’t yet heard, Queens College won second out of fourth place, which we never thought would happen in a million years!

As I said, this entire experience of putting on a musical entirely from scratch has made me seriously consider playwriting and directing for a living. I also found that since completing the musical, I’ve looked at the performing arts, plays and movies in particular, in a much more structuralist light. I think much more critically about how scripts are written in relation to actions and the characters. This of course reminds me of The Bald Soprano– even though the play is of the absurdist brand, a great deal of thought still went into the production, and yes, even the script. I found myself thinking back to The Bald Soprano several times while writing the script for this musical- because there is a lot of comedy and unrealistic scenarios in it, I tried to imitate the timing of the lines in the way that they were timed for this play. In directing the actors, I also imitated the way the Bald Soprano actors acted: they took their lines very seriously, regardless of their ridiculousness. And lo and behold, it worked! Thank you, Ionesco!

 

Finally, if you’re interested in a sample of the music, here is Jessica’s Song, written/recorded by Mitchell Guido and Annmarie Errico, all rights reserved. (Yes, that is me singing- it was intended to help Anastasia, who played Jessica, learn the song quicker. FYI, Jessica is Johnny’s girlfriend who makes a surprising confession as her end-of-the-world action
)

 

 

You Will Love This Jazz Trio!

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As an aspiring jazz vocalist, I often am surprised at how many amazing jazz artists I’ve let slip under my nose, especially when I realize how helpful they are in my own efforts to understand and master jazz music. Saxophonist Rudresh Manhanthappa, a musician of Indian jazz, is one of them. Mitch and I seized the opportunity (extended to us by our very own Professor Smaldone) to see him at Flushing Town Hall. The two main things I learned from this concert are: 1) you haven’t heard jazz until you’ve heard Indian Jazz, and 2) Jazz. Is. Communication. Watching Rudresh and his trio “The Indo-Pak Coalition” perform was as educational as it was absolutely entertaining- it served as a wonderful reminder about how crucial communication is in jazz.

The evening began with a Q & A session between Rudresh and our emcee for the evening. He told his story of being born in Trieste, Italy, growing up in Boulder, Colorado, and attending Berklee College of Music and DePaul University for his Master’s. I wasn’t expecting him to be so down to earth; I certainly wasn’t expecting his clear American accent, or that his taste in music would be so eclectic given the specific brand of jazz that he plays. By the end of the twenty-minute session, I was so curious about what his music would sound like that I could barely stand it. It also helped that a couple of months ago I attended an Egyptian Music workshop hosted by Carnegie Hall – I recognized some of the musical terms I had learned from that workshop and didn’t expect to also find them in Indian music.

Rudresh left the stage to retrieve the other two members of his trio, and a moment later, the three of them walked out together. Aside from Rudresh, there was a drummer and a guitarist, and I wondered if the trio would sound empty with the absence of a bass player (spoiler alert: boy, was I wrong).

After a couple of minutes of tuning, the trio began playing the only song of Rudresh’s I had previously heard: “Convergence.” Within seconds, I knew the night would be entertaining. From the very first note played, the three of them were all about communication. To blink would be to miss at least three glances between the players. They were always looking out for each other, checking in on each other, and listening to what the other one was doing. Rudresh’s solos went by lightning fast, and he played with a comical bended knee stance that we said looked a bit like a videogame character. He clearly is a musician who has reached the level of expertise that he barely needs to think about soloing anymore; he just does it.

I at first thought the guitarist, Rez Abbasi, wasn’t very good because of the inattentive , unconfident look in his eye, and during much of the first song he didn’t appear to be playing much. I was soon told that the guitarist probably has the hardest part of the three of them: he is acting as a bassist and a guitarist; he is holding everybody together as the drummer and Rudresh venture into different feels and melodic ideas. The more I watched him, the more I realized he was doing. The show couldn’t have gone on without him. Of many of Rez Abbasi’s highlight moments for the evening, my favorite had to have been his lengthy guitar solo at the beginning of the second song in the set. The chords that he chose, combined with the different pedals he pressed, gave his solo such an addictive quality. I literally did not want him to stop soloing, and was internally cranky when he did. It vaguely reminded me of the style of Stanley Jordan, in that Rez was able to make his one guitar sound as if three guitars were playing at once. That is when you know you’ve got yourself a good guitarist!

My favorite artist to watch of the trio, though, had to have been the drummer Dan Weiss. I consider him to have been the coolest and most light-hearted of the group. He was constantly grinning as he played, and his presence was overall nonchalant yet sure of himself. His experimentation with different drum fills was evident throughout the night. When playing the traditional tabla drum, he sat cross-legged on the floor, occasionally contorting his leg to impulsively reach the hi-hat or bass drum pedal. In less than two seconds, he could lift himself onto his drum stool to play the kit. He made it look like so much fun! It was also quite cool that he spotted the two of us in the audience and smiled/looked at us several times. 🙂

Rudresh’s music is great for the Indian jazz skeptic. For anyone who thinks they won’t like Indian jazz, Rudresh (with this trio especially) is the artist to see. Rudresh doesn’t make his music too exclusively Indian or too exclusively jazzy. The drums are constantly rotating between swing feels and other typical jazz feels and beats found in the heart of Indian music. One can definitely tell that the songs are Indian jazz, but there are melodic ideas within Rudresh’s compositions that unexpectedly take the audience to different musical worlds: sometimes the guitar sounded rock-ish, for instance, and sometimes Rudresh’s solos sounded bluesy. This concert as additionally taught me that I like musicians who experiment!

Even if you decidedly despise Indian jazz, see Rudresh’s trio as a musician, jazz or not. The benefits or communication really show between the three of them. In my experience, it is very easy to forget to communicate to your fellow musicians, whether you’re playing in a combo, a big band, etc. For a genre that is a thousand percent more free than the rigidness of classical music, this isn’t good! Communication is key to keeping things running smoothly and producing really cool solos, and Rudresh Manhanthappa and the Indo-Pak Coalition are wonderful testaments of that. Go check them out! Rudresh is based in New York!

Not Your 2nd-Grade Slumber Party

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An item recently added to my bucket list has just as recently been struck from it, and I can now safely say that everybody should follow suit and experience what I have: sleep over a museum. For the purpose of collecting research for an English essay (and of course, for the purpose of having fun), some classmates and I did just that at the Rubin Museum of Art’s Dream-Over, which would ultimately turn out to be a magical experience well worth the $55.

At 8:15 PM we arrived at the Rubin and were greeted by some friendly employees dressed in kimonos and socks. After our shoes were checked in the coatroom, we were led to the café that was lit with faint purplish-blackish lights. Serene new-age ambient music played in the background as we joined our pre-assigned groups and met our equally friendly group leaders who gave us a brief description of what was to come.

My group was assigned to sleep on the RMA’s 6th and uppermost floor. Each person was assigned a piece of artwork to sleep under: I was assigned to four medieval trinkets from pilgrimages done on behalf of Saint Thomas Becket, as well as a beautiful stained-glass depiction of Saint Margaret, famous for having been swallowed by a dragon and emerging unscathed.

After a few minutes to set down our sleeping bags and get acquainted with our artwork, we were led to the theater where a workshop on art meditation and dreaming was to take place. There, we listened to a Q&A between psychoanalyst Dr. William H. Braun and a real Tibetan monk, Lama Lhanang Rinpoche; two occupations I never thought would ever have any reason to meet. While this Q&A was surprisingly boring (the language barrier caused by Rinpoche’s poor English/projection didn’t help), there was a lot of talk about how one can control one’s dreams. The talk got rather in-depth; further than my mind cared to go. It was at this point that I realized the event was particularly geared towards dreaming and its importance to our lives. While I didn’t mind this, I wish that dreams were something I felt more strongly about. I enjoy having dreams and recording them on paper, but to talk as passionately as several people in the room were doing made me wish I had stronger feelings about them. I instead let my mind peacefully wander.

The workshop ended with the entire audience closing their eyes and meditating for about ten minutes (the last couple of minutes had Rinpoche vocalizing and hitting bells together as we meditated), which was incredibly relaxing. I was ready to go to bed right then and there, though afterwards we were brought to the café for our midnight snack that consisted of assorted teas, dried fruit, fresh fruit, hummus with pita chips, organic hot chocolate, and more. The energy of my conversation with my classmates (and Professor Davison) woke me up again, but as soon as we left the café, I became intent on sleeping once again. We met with our groups once before bed to help mentally prepare for the night ahead.

We all got ready for bed to the sound of an Asian flute-like instrument floating up from the first floor up through the grand spiral staircase to all the other floors. As I lay in my sleeping bag, my group leader sat beside me and read me a bedtime story inspired by my artwork (since I was quite tired, I remember nothing about my story except it was wordy and had Kubla Kahn and Marco Polo in it). Before I knew it, she had whispered “good night” to me and left.

As peaceful as the atmosphere was, I tossed and turned all night and didn’t get much sleep due to the elevator constantly moving and beeping, the hard floor, and the insufficient head support from my ridiculously small pillow. I did manage to have a vague dream despite the immense (yet unintentional) pressure the Dream-Over puts on you to remember it at all, exhibit A, being awoken by a dream-gatherer eager to hear you talk about what you dreamt of during the night.  I told my dream-gatherer in a very hoarse voice about my dream that, I kid you not, consisted of watching Seinfeld bloopers with my dad and a Macaulay senior telling me about a revered historical figure famous for owning one of two blue monkeys in the world.

We all slowly made our way down to breakfast where the same kinds of food from the midnight snack were served, with the addition of traditional (and disgusting, sorry!) Tibetan hot cereal. Amid the cheerful conversation and [overall decent] food, we posed for a huge group picture and listened to some friendly announcements and thank-you’s from the coordinators of the event. We then met with our groups for one final meeting about the dreams we had the night before. Again, I felt inadequate next to the people in my group who were deeply analyzing every tiny detail of their dreams- one woman had a dream about her father who had died, which brought her close to tears. I meekly raised my hand to share my boring-by-comparison dream, but was smilingly received nonetheless.

By 9 AM, I was out the heavy RMA doors and in the real world, slightly dazed from my lack of sleep. My commute home was peaceful and serene, however, and I felt the calming power of the museum for the rest of the day. My main criticisms for the Dream-Over were that they could have offered more universally-eaten food, in addition to extra blankets and pillows for those who needed them. They also could have put more focus on the art- it was only after the Dream-Over that I realized I still had virtually no knowledge of the museum and its art at all. Either way, I am incredibly glad I went and would certainly consider going again, only next time with an air mattress.

to read more about the Dream-Over, click here! 

Occupy Wall Street: Not For Me, But Godspeed Anyhow

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I attended the Occupy Wall Street teach-in with my English class on Thursday, November 17th, hoping to get a better perspective about Occupy Wall Street. I confess that because I have been busy with so many other things, I haven’t had the time to seriously examine the movement as extensively as I know I, a member of the “99%”, should have.

The Teach-In was not as helpful as I thought it would be. I wanted to learn exactly how and why the movement started, and why it only decided to take wing on September 17th, when it can be argued that big corporations and billionaires have been wronging the middle and lower classes for decades. Instead, it seemed to be an endless shouting match between our two student hosts, who, in piercingly loud and aggressive voices, tried to show their audience of roughly fifty why we all belong in the 99% and what the government is doing to us.

I felt a bit awkward sitting there and feeling none of the passion and fervor the student hosts felt. Their aggressive way of speaking made me want to tune them out more than listen. Their attempts to roleplay people on the particularly low spectrum of the 99% were more comical than informative, mostly because of the bad acting and use of a tie to help disguise a white girl as a middle-aged black man.

After being flooded with all of these ideas and all of this information about how much the government has been wronging us, I wondered if there was something wrong with me. How could I, who used to be such a passionate lover of the 1960’s and hippie counterculture, be so disinterested in the Occupy Wall Street movement? I may be part of the 99%, but I feel that I think like a 1%-er. I have no desire to join these protesters, and most of the time they simply annoy me.

I checked out the OWS Tumblr page, which consisted of hundreds of 99%-ers’ pictures and their individual stories. I found that I had very little in common with these people. All of them were experiencing much harder times than my family and I have ever faced: most of them were in heavy debt from college and credit card bills, many did not have health insurance, and in general, were in a much lower economic standing than my family and I. My family is by no means rich, but we are definitely more fortunate than the people I saw on this Tumblr page. Both of my parents work, we all have health insurance, being a Macaulay student means I have no college loans to pay off, and we have a house and live comfortably. It is perhaps for these reasons that I don’t feel particularly “cheated” by big corporations like the OWS protesters do. In this way, I see my comfortable living as a sort of curse. I want to understand where they are coming from. I want to really understand how difficult life is for these people, but my social and economic standing doesn’t permit me to – or not as fully as I would like to.

I will say that the Occupy Wall Street movement does have a poignant resonance that can be connected to the visual and performing arts. The arts are definitely a big part of the OWS movement in the same way it was part of the civil rights/anti-war movements of the 1960’s and 1970’s. Just on the news this morning, I saw that the protesters have moved to Gracie Mansion and are planning to keep up a communal drumming session for 24 hours. A singer-songwriter I follow on Twitter, Amanda Palmer, has frequented Zucotti Park numerous times and has performed her famous “Ukulele Anthem” with the protesters. The connections of Occupy Wall Street to art are endless, though I wouldn’t say that they are synonymous, mostly because I don’t strongly support the movement to begin with. In the same way that a painting or a piece of art makes a statement, however, it cannot be denied that the OWS movement is making a very strong statement. The fact that so many thousands of people can come together when it is so easy for modern technology to isolate us is truly remarkable. If the Occupy Wall Street movement will show us anything at all, it will show us that it is still possible for people to truly come together for a common cause; that activism is not dead.

 

Sites accessed:

OccupiedWallStreetJournal.com

Wearethe99percent.tumblr.com

Starstruck/Bowstruck

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Thanks to this Arts in NYC Seminar class, I have been exposed to what I can accurately say is one of my favorite pieces for violin ever: after an exclusive sneak peek, our class saw Khachaturian’s Violin Concerto performed by the Queens College Orchestra, conducted by Maurice Peress, featuring Monica Martin on the violin.

After her preview performance I was very eager to hear the piece in its entirety; I purposely held out listening to it on my own beforehand so I could be completely surprised by the parts I had not seen. Although I am not a violinist, Monica Martin was still an inspiration to watch. She arrived onstage in a hugely ornate black sleeveless dress that billowed out in rich ruffles at the bottom; even professionals I’ve seen at Carnegie Hall weren’t dressed to the nines as much as she was. From the moment she entered the stage, she completely took over the space. I can still say one of my favorite moments was right before she was about to play, when she placed her violin on her shoulder, holding it in place with her chin as she readied her bow. As she played the first note, one could tell that she was about to delve into a deep musical tunnel of sorts— and not emerge until she reached the other side.

The entire concerto was incredibly long, but never once boring. The concerto had three movements that allowed Ms. Martin to demonstrate fierce strikes on the violin backed by an equally energetic orchestra to heartwrenchingly tender solo cadenzas. I wished I had a camera so I could capture her fierce facial expressions during breaks in her playing, or the way the lights caught her face as she leaned into her instrument, with her eyes almost always closed, extremely focused.

It occurred to me then that a forty-minute violin concerto for a violinist carries just as much weight and responsibility, as, say, a three-hour opera for a singer. I always marvel at how opera stars and Broadway leads manage to memorize all their stage directions and lines, and with this concerto it was no exception. I left the concert feeling inspired to not only practice my own instruments and skills more, but also to have more confidence in my ability to digest and perform large volumes of music at a time. If she can do it and is only a couple of years older than me, then I eventually can do it too— perhaps I already can and don’t realize it!

Adorable British Charm- With a Hint of Genius

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I introduce to you a wonderful Brtish comedian who would surely make Prof. Smaldone’s Word Hoard explode with musical terms. Did I mention I saw him in concert on Saturday, September 17th? Or that I met him after the show?!?!

I give you Bill Bailey, a respected musical comedian who has been active since the 1990’s. For several years he was regular team captain on the popular British music quiz show “Never Mind the Buzzcocks”. He has toured the world countless times with his charming and different comedy shows. His latest tour, Dandelion Mind, came to NYU’s Skirball Center from September 14th to the 17th. My dad and I caught him on the last night- due to scheduling uncertainties we almost didn’t go, but I’m so glad that we decided to go! He has been a comedic favorite of mine for a few months now.

Bill Bailey’s comedy is unique in that it centers largely around musical themes and ideas. Much of his comedy revolves around reimagining a song in a different genre, pointing out qualities that make certain genres of music recognizable, and, my favorite, demonstrating new instruments most of us have never seen before. A lot of my knowledge of musical instruments, I must say, comes from him! He really makes one want to go out and learn all of the instruments that exist in the world.

The concert was completely laugh out loud funny. Bill Bailey is friendly and open to audience members calling out things to him, which works perfectly for his improvisational comedic style. There was a wealth of musical instruments on the stage- from the bozouki, an Iranian oud, a Japanese electronic instrument called the tenori on, and even a recorder added to the comedic brilliance. I’m a shtickler for not spoling comedy shows for people, but for the sake of plugging his show I will [vaguely] mention a couple of memorable moments: a group sing along, a special reimagining of Akon’s “Smack That”, some laugh-til-you-cry jokes about barnacles, some comedic descriptions of Biblical art [note: Bill Bailey discusses Jesus Christ in this bit a lot- I want to make this known in case anybody is interested in seeing this tour, but would find this offensive to their religion], some poetry, and a short film. The show was so fun and it went by in a split second- with comedy shows, one never wants them to end 🙁

A final word about after the show: in recent months I’ve become one of those insane people who waits for people at the stage door after concerts are over; I find it quite fun and thrilling, and it’s also a great opportunity to get further inspired by the artist who has just permanently wowed you. My dad and I waited close to an hour after the show for Bill to come out- by the time he did, only ten people were left, which made for a quite intimate meet-and-greet! I hugged him and told him his genius has given me a BillBailyeurism (anyeurism, Bill Bailyeurism, get it? ok…) He autographed my program, and I am still reeling that he actually cared about how my name was spelled! It is the first autograph I’ve ever gotten that has my name spelled completely correctly: Annmarie. Below is a picture of my dad, Bill, and I- pardon my hopelessly humongous smile, I was just too happy to meet him! If all that isn’t enough, I witnessed Bill and my dad talk about accordions for at least thirty seconds. Cooool 🙂

And finally, here’s a sample of what Bill is like: this is one of my favorite bits from his huge orchestra tour from a couple of years ago, Bill Bailey’s Remarkable Guide to the Orchestra.

p.s. Bill told me himself he’ll be back in New York early in the New Year… keep an eye out if you’re interested!

A Golden Age of Art

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Sunday, September 18th marked my first ever visit to the Jewish Museum. It was there that my seminar 1 class and I viewed the special exhibit of the Cone Sisters’ famous art collection, comprised largely of works by Matisse, in addition to plenty of Picasso and other artists. Normally, I am not the most attentive museum-goer unless the work is particularly avant garde, but I was pleasantly surprised that this exhibition- though not very radical compared to the art we have now, was wholly fascinating and lovely!

The exhibit wouldn’t have been the same without the special informational iPhone app that accompanied it, which allowed viewers to listen to commentary on many of the works on display. There was also ample biographical information given on the collectors themselves, the Cone Sisters, and many of their friends such as Gertrude Stein. Hearing about the rich, cultured lives of the Cone Sisters definitely made me see how important these paintings were back then, and how much more important they’ve become now. It made me want to become an art collector myself! The exhibit closes on the 25th, so there is still time to squeeze a visit in before then- Macaulay students with Cultural Passports should definitely take advantage of this very insightful, enriching experience! More information can be found here, at the Jewish Museum website.

Quite interestingly, my visit to the Jewish Museum also correlated quite well with a movie I’d seen just two days before, Woody Allen’s newest film Midnight in Paris. I went to see it with some friends from MHC Hunter at the only theatre still playing it, the Angelika Film Center. Having no knowledge of what it would be about, it ended up being a very charming film about a struggling writer who, while vacationing in Paris, comes across a vintage car that takes him back to the Roaring 20’s. The film just so happens to involve many of the artists mentioned in the Cone Sisters exhibit- I will not spoil too much of it for those who have yet to watch it, but the protagonist does end up meeting Gertrude Stein, Picasso, and many other prominent literary/art figures of the time. Seeing the film prior to the exhibit made me feel like I was an expert on these artists (I’m really not 🙂 And it also occurred to me how these artists influenced each other; even if their styles were completely different, they still managed to incorporate aspects of each other’s style into some of their works. It shows how important experimentation and open-mindedness really is. As a musician and writer, I am beginning to let the same thing happen to my work!

The trailer doesn’t give much of the plot away at all, but here it is anyway for your viewing pleasure: BYRWfS2s2v4