There are very few architects that create real art through the design of their buildings.
Frank Gehry is definitely one of the few.
Most New Yorkers know him for his design of the spiraling Guggenheim Museum structure, but he recently completed the tallest residential tower in the Americas. The project is entitled New York by Gehry.
As a unique take on the developing genre of the high rise residence, its undulating facade has virtually guaranteed it a place among the great classics of architecture.The Pantheon has nothing on this stuff.
I hear the lobby is the nicest in the city. Someone should tell the OWSers.
If I had to guess, I would say that the fascination inspired by our short encounter with the world of Gamelan had more to do with the juxtaposition of the Indonesian music and its Americans-in-jeans musicians than with the development of a true taste for the tinkering tunes.
Sure, the music has an ethnic charm, the kind that motivates the Bali government to sponsor costumed performers in hotels, and, while this contrived ‘experience’ may attract tourists, us Mac’lers got a look at something a lot better.
The Queens College Gamelan Orchestra made no secret of its background—there were a few giggles in the crowd when some of the musicians spun their sticks drummer style. When we met them prior to the performance, they were just regular guys in college willing to kick off their converse and sit on the floor with us to make some noise. Happens to be their noise is of a superior strain, a new idea in the desert of over-proliferation. Bali music in New York, played by New Yorkers is as refreshing as pop music played by Californians is nauseating.
Another instance of the first phenomenon that comes to mind is that of Idan Raichel.
To this day, Israelis hold the world record as the only country to actively bring Africans to their country—as free men. In 1984-91, when the Ethiopian Jewish population was threatened by political upheaval and famine, Israel organized covert operations Joshua, Moses and Solomon, airlifting thousands to safety and developing programs to help the newcomers integrate. Idan Raichel volunteered at one such program, where he became acquainted with the rhythmic Ethiopian music that he later developed into the Idan Raichel Project. His music features songs that blend Amharic, Hebrew, and Arabic. It is this combination of cultures that makes his work so powerful. Most recently he performed with India Arie, earlier this semester at the Beacon Theater on Broadway.
(kol isha heads up—if its below your standards I don’t want it to be my gehenom 😉 just skip to the next video)
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=mtwfZZX5E4I
Translated Hebrew lyrics: (and if anyone understands Amharic please post!)
Come, give me your hand and let’s go
Don’t ask me to where
Don’t ask me about happiness
Maybe it will come too
And when it comes
It will fall down on us like rain
Come, let’s embrace and let’s go
Don’t ask me when
Don’t ask me about home
Don’t ask me for time
Time doesn’t wait, doesn’t stop, doesn’t stay.
Another, more current, more local, and perhaps even more bizarre example of cultural integration would be the Yeshiva University acapella group’s attempt at reggae holiday music. Like the case of the Queens Gamelan, one can only wonder, how on earth did this happen?
After last week’s wonderful impromptu musical performance, courtesy of Antonio Hart, I was inspired to find out who exactly this Aaron Copeland person was. After all, it seems he was worthy of having one of the greatest aspects of Queens College named for him, right?
Turns out, Aaron Copeland and I share a litvishe (intermittent Scottish roots included!) background. Unfortunately that’s pretty much where the similarities end.
Born in Brooklyn at the turn of the century, Mr. Copeland expressed amazing musical skill from a very young age. He composed his first opera scenario called Zenatello, which included seven bars of music, at age eleven. And that was just the beginning of a long and illustrious career as one of America’s greatest modern orchestral composers.
Copeland is perhaps most famous for his originality in film scores. In 1949 he won an Academy Award for the Heiress film score. While most composers at the time adhered to the constraints of post-romantic pieces, Copeland proved to be an effortless iconoclast, and ever a crowd pleaser.
Later in life, Copeland’s career developed, and he became quite a successful conductor, until, in 1990, he died of Alzheimer disease.
My fellow classmates’ many posts on homelessness in New York City reminded me of a little known independent film I watched recently, Chop Shop.
Chop Shop centers around a young boy struggling to survive on the streets of Queens. The movie has a rough, neo-realist grit that those with a taste for the grimy, pseudo-documentary social commentary will enjoy.
I understand the power of the media to instigate. Its roots stretch far back—long before Upton Sinclair and Yellow Journalism.
Personally, though, I am more motivated by a well-researched paper than an artsy indie film. When Alejandro sprints across the screen and the camera lens follows him in a wide arc, nipping Shea Stadium in the left corner of the frame, the reporter in me can’t help but wonder what percentage of children live as he does, in New York, and around the world. I lose focus as the ensuing debate between my Inner Optimist and Inner Cynic presides over the film’s gritty redundancies.
They conclude that while I did not necessarily learn anything new about reality, I did come to better understand my dislike for film as a social commentary, and social commentary as a form of entertainment.
On first reflection, when one considers that the OWS protesters claim to represent the 99%, it is quite surprising how few members of that demographic actually subscribe to the movement. After all, aren’t we all struggling as the economy lags and jobs become ever more elusive?
To better understand this question, I attended the Queens College Occupy Wall Street Teach-In last Thursday. Professor Frances Fox Piven very eloquently enumerated any ill to which a dissatisfied public college student could possibly relate. She had everyone’s attention when, in a deeply passionate doomsday tone, she predicted the utter failure we all will face upon graduation. What caused the world’s greatest superpower’s economy to crash? Well, of course it must be those big bonuses Wall Street CEO’s get. In fact, this argument is essentially the foundation of the entire movement.
Suddenly people began to fiddle with their phones.
Professor Fox Piven launched into a long-winded description of what she has determined to be the fail-proof solution to all of our problems. First of all, we should write off all the debts of those who acquired houses that they never earned with mortgages worth more than their property. After that, we should funnel more money into unsustainable stimulus programs, because the last one burned through trillions, and hardly effected most industries. Inspired by the Greeks, she seeks to do away with any remnants of austerity policy.
While these sentiments obviously fail in the logic department, they did give me a new perspective on the OWS movement. The absence of any value in terms of instigating change that will effectively improve the lives of the 99% brings the movement’s artistic and poetic expression into sharp relief as its only redeeming quality. Street Art Utopia has amassed quite a collection of photos of protestors toting their signage. If only their witty words had some substance, perhaps they would be supported by the real 99%.
In honor of the Year of the Turkey, the Queens College library is displaying various volumes on Turkey.
Turkey the place, not the food.
Yeah I know.
The books can be found in glass showcases on floors 2-6. I loved walking from floor to floor marveling at the various styles that were portrayed in the cases. I did not know that Turkey had such a rich history of art. What struck me most about Turkey is the variety of influences in the works displayed. There were images of bejeweled vessels, Moorish architecture, impressionist paintings. In summary, although the presentation was pretty limited, it really represented the essence of Turkey as the crossroads between the nations.
How many times has Hollywood destroyed our favorite childhood books beyond any recognition? Harry Potter, Cheaper by the Dozen, Matilda, The Three Musketeers… You would think by now they would have mercy and cease their imagination obliterating, plot squelching, adaptions, but no. Once again they have nabbed a treasure and they are not letting go. Of course, they will be leaving out all the best parts and replacing them with such utter inanities you can’t imagine (pun intended!) Whether I have watched it or not is irrelevant. We are discussing inevitability.
What specifically am I ranting on about?
Somehow (investigations into the leak are being reviewed) Spielberg got his hands on a copy of Tintin, and, deciding that he is not yet rich enough, proceeded to churn out another computer-generated blockbuster. For those of you with deprived childhoods, Tintin is an illustrated series (some would demean it with the term ‘comic books’) centered around a young reporter whose curiosity leads him on adventures all over the world, accompanied by his boisterous friend Captain Haddock, and his dog, Snowy. The books were originally written in French by the Belgian Hergé, but have since been translated into many languages.
While I can tell you that the English, Hebrew and French language versions each have their charms, it is the care and detail of the illustrations that really capture the reader’s imagination and curiosity for far-off places. Each book reflects Hergé’s lifetime of dedicated research into different cultures.
Tintin, Captain Haddock and the Incas Have a Misunderstanding
On a recent visit to the Metropolitan Museum of Art I stumbled upon some artifacts that instantly brought me back to adventures in Peru among the Incas. A series of rectangular tunics were on display, the different colors, patterns and materials striking in their contrast. The Tintin book, Prisoners of the Sun, was amazingly accurate in depicting the various motifs, employing the correct distinguishing designs to indicate different classes and areas. The collection even featured some miniature tunics, the perfect size for the ritual effigies featured in Prisoners of the Sun.
Met Miniature Tunic
Inca Effigies in Tintin
Unfortunately, it seems it is too late to save Tintin’s adventures at sea from the big screen. We can only hope Spielberg will spare his quests in South America, Tibet, Scotland, Egypt, China, the Moon…
A recent post by belizairec noted the “focused light” of the final performance at the “Fall for Dance” program.
It reminded me of the Russian composer Scriabin, who claimed to have synesthesia, and duplicated his experiences by projecting colored lights corresponding to the notes of his music. At the turn of the twentieth century his innovation was revolutionary, and it continues to inspire artists today.
Lincoln Center is showing a program entitled “Spectral Scriabin” which implements Scriabin’s original techniques. The musician Eteri Andjaparidze performs the pieces by Scriabin, and Jennifer Tipton designs the lighting.
Turns out operatic baritones are also at risk. Particularly the Polish, foil-wielding, Mariusz Kwiecien, who missed his opening night performance as the eponymous character, Don Giovanni, due to a herniated disc. Worry not, he will be back in action for the Nov. 7 performance, but look out for these production changes made specially to accommodate Don Giovanni’s back problems:
Dramatic lunges are out. Kwiecien’s physio therapist instructed him to “thrust the sword by using his arm, not by rotating his back; use his legs to move forward; keep his lower torso neutral” Sounds like ballet minus plie.
There will also be more arrogant striding and less running (or chasing women, as it may be). The post-surgery Don will skip most of the dramatic flopping, and cut the symbolic ladder descent.
Lets hope our beloved theatrical opera doesn’t turn into an operating theater.
How about the famous Child With Orange by Van Gogh? The latter captured the power of the color in a much less crude, less invasive manner, the mark of a true artist.
Well, orange contemporary art is back in New York with Richard Serra’s latest exhibit in the Gagosian Gallery on 24th Street in Chelsea. While his combination of size and color is by no means subtle, he succeeds where Cristo and Jeanne-Claude failed. The powdery surface of the undulating curves has the most beautiful color of oxidized metal. Instead of bringing to mind mass-produced plastic traffic cones, the naturally occurring hues suggest a constant interaction of the elements.
Until this morning, I associated quilting with Little House on the Prairie and Betsy Ross.
Little did I know that, according to this article, quilting is actually a thriving urban art, complete with a Manhattan’s Quilters Guild. The passionate quilters know that the beauty of the art lies in the fabric, and midtown Manhattan’s City Quilter is the Mecca to which they flock. City Quilter provides resources beyond batik and Japanese prints– they provide workshops for various skill levels, attracting both the curious hobbist and the involved artist.
Current exhibits of quilts include the 9/11 Peace Story Quilt at the MET. The artist in charge of the project is Faith Ringgold. She designed the quilt to represent the importance communications between cultures, and symbolically, the quilt was put together by students all over New York City.
I think, just this once, I will let the older generation out do me on the hipness scale, and leave the quilting to my grandmother.
The Architectural Record has attempted to chronicle the structural development in NYC in the past ten years, focusing on the revolution of the architecture in multiple building types. Quite an ambitious endeavor, and (perhaps consequently) quite an absolute failure. Their are many, many projects featured in the articles, some really wonderful, like the Governors Island expansion, which we are all familiar with, and some absolute atrocities, like this Louvre wannabe, courtesy of the Danish Bjarke Ingels. No wonder the Danes are importing New York architects Pei Cobb Freed and Partners- original architects of the pyramid in the Louvre, for their new Tivoli Gardens enhancement.
Then there is the issue of all the projects that were neglected, despite their obvious relevance, particularly in the area of recent civic developments. The bad economy has contributed to an overall slowdown in creative corporate projects, but there have been multiple, and exceptional, new hospital and civic center buildings.
On September 11, I attended the Yeshiva University 9/11 memorial ceremony. This memorial was unique in a number of ways. In accordance with the Jewish laws of mourning, no live instrumental music was played; instead, the crowd recited Psalms on behalf of the deceased, and stood as the Prayer for the Welfare of the United States was read. In many ways, this sums up the theme of the event; honoring the dead, while simultaneously respecting the living.
One of the speakers, Mrs. Anat Barber, was nineteen years old on 9/11. She described her experiences watching over the deceased at Ground Zero. Jewish tradition requires that shomer, or a protector, stay constantly at the side of the deceased and to recite Psalms, as an act of honor to the dead. Anat spoke of the surprising connections she made with people from every walk of life as they waited for the remains of the victims to be identified.
Rabbi Willig, Assistant Head of the American Court of Jewish Law, on the other hand, spoke of the important commitment we have to the living. He was involved in investigating missing people on behalf of their family members. Rabbi Willig described, case-by-case, the different evidence that was considered, from Metro card records to floor plans, witnesses, and DNA tests. No detail was ignored in the search to determine the status of lost husbands, ultimately allowing many wives to rebuild their lives after the tragedy, and to remarry, should they so desire.
Today marks the tragic day on the Jewish calendar, the 22 of Elul. Let us remember the loss, but live for what remains.
My high school is located very close to the Metropolitan Museum of Art. My friends and I became privy to a little known fact about the Met very early on. Contrary to the dictums of pop culture, you are NOT, under any circumstances, allowed to sit on the Met steps and eat your lunch. And no, this is not a result of some social hierarchy; the Met pays someone to make sure you know it is too good to be true.
Unable to loiter outside, we frequently found ourselves wandering in to check out the Egyptian wing, or some wacked out huge green balloon dog on the Roof. The, thing is, no matter how many times you go to the Met, the expanse of art is so vast that you can only ever scratch the surface of the permanent collection (never mind the temporary exhibits) and the history it represents.
(Speaking of scratching the surface, anyone see the Richard Serra Exhibit that was showing back in April? 🙂 )
A New York Times art review article, from last week, emphasizes perfectly the detail of history and philosophy one easily overlooked piece can contain.
This article focuses on an oblong painting by Huang Daozhou, of two intertwined pine trees and a rock, currently featured in an exhibit of Ming loyalist art. The painting, while seemingly quite serene to the contemporary viewer who is so accustomed to violent and graphic propaganda, reflects the political turmoil in the region in 1634. Invading tribesmen from the North threatened the long-standing Ming dynasty, and eventually defeated it in 1644. The caption beneath “Pines and Rock” reads, ruefully, “Even if I turned into rock, I wouldn’t be obstinate.” Ultimately, Huang Daozhou is obstinate enough to be killed for his loyalist beliefs, despite his previous resolution to go with the flow.
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Image courtesy of the NYTimes.
