Blog Posts

These are the prompts and due dates for all of your blog posts.

serg319

First Thoughts:

My initial thoughts while looking at this piece were that the photos were taken at barrios in a Latin country. I have seen a lot of blocks and buildings that look similar when I’ve gone to countries like Colombia, Costa Rica, and Mexico. For some reason, my thoughts went to Cuba as the place where these were taken and I wasn’t exactly sure why. It could have been the colorful blue building or how hot and dry it seems in the pictures, but also could be because of a new television show I watched based on Cubans. The women stood out to me because she seemed like the store owner that barrios tend to have in their communities. She seems like she has a lot of stories and is personable but also is bad ass in a way.

Deeper Analysis

My thoughts on the photo set changed a bit as I continued to observe the photo set. It was almost like taking a journey in my mind as I began to form one idea and then a different meaning hit me and completely contradicted the initial thoughts I was having during my extended observation of the piece. For some reason, the pictures began to look almost homey to me even though I have never lived in a location like that but my thoughts kept going back to my grandmother and mom. Thinking back to stories they’ve told me from their past and reaching back to a few memories I have from driving by places they knew or grew up when I visited Colombia is what I think made me think about the pictures in a homey way. Especially leaning more towards my grandmothers past because she actually grew up with very little and lived in similar circumstances. As I thought about this more and looked at the pictures, I realized how wrong I was with the feelings of home. The buildings and surroundings showed in the pictures to me looked like they were supposed to be that way and if they weren’t, if they were more clean and modern, it would seem like it’s almost not authentic. It hit me that for me, this is what I expect to see when I think about Latin countries and it’s normal for everything to look so underwhelming. I realized how upsetting and wrong it was that this was the idea I had of what those places should look like because just because it’s what people are used to it doesn’t mean it’s good. The photographer, Rubén Natal-San Miguel, captured places that seem so typical of what to expect in areas like that, these pictures actually being Puerto Rico, in media and such but the buildings are abandoned. They’re boarded off and up for sale and it shows the economic situation that countries like Puerto Rico are dealing with. Media will show places like that filled with families, little kids playing in the streets, elderly sitting on the porches and in real photographs, those places are abandoned. Looking back at the picture of Carmen the bartender, it sticks out to me that the place looks empty and once again that’s something that I wouldn’t expect from a place like that. Reflecting further on the photos my thoughts went from “pretty blue building” to thinking it was “homey” to realizing how lonely and sad everything looked. The photo of the word “outrage” on the fence pretty much summarizes what I ending up feeling from the photos and one can only imagine how the actual people who wrote that feel. Something with so much potential and beauty just seemed dead.

 

 

Teju Cole

serg319

Teju Cole wrote a very interesting article about Raghubir Singh’s photography of a realistic view of India. He made some points that I found myself thinking about a lot, especially in connecting his ideas to my “previous prejudice” of the opera compared to my opinions after the experience. Personally, I have always been interested in being able to attend an opera and get that experience. My “previous prejudice” towards opera was that I did have the idea that it was an activity aimed more towards the upper class. You often see media portray operas with those in attendance looking very well dressed in elegant gowns and suits and often older and usually white people. Operas also seemed to be events attended by highly educated people since so many originate from different countries in different languages. For a lot of people, especially young generations, operas have this reputation of being boring and old-fashioned and I honestly don’t really see where the strong idea that they’re boring came from because I was always intrigued by them. I feel that this might be because of my background with singing and love for theatre so operas are a point of interest for me. People go through extensive training to sing operas and these singers can really create magic on the stage. So, although I had these ideas of how exclusive and particular operas could be, I also had an idea of how entertaining and a cultural experience it could be so I always leaned more toward aiming to attend them throughout my life.

I wasn’t able to take photos at the opera but walking into Lincoln Center I saw my previous prejudices had some things that seemed correct and others that were off. The people, for the most part, were more Caucasian but attire varied. There was a wide variety of outfits that ranged from quite formal to casual jeans but I noticed that it seemed to vary based on seats. Those in the orchestra seats closer to the stage seemed more formally dressed than the people in the mezzanines. As the opera got underway, my idea that it would be magical didn’t pan out very much. I understood virtually none of the words because all the enunciation got mushed up in the singing. When my friend, who is also an opera singer, performs her pieces the words are usually more distinct and easy to make out but this could also have to do with the language being sung in. For some reason, English always sounds the most jumbled up. Regardless, I found myself to be a little bored though I tried to stay with the story the most I could while I noticed that some around me had just checked out. This brings me back to whether my previous notion that the opera was magical and gripped the viewer may not be entirely true and I would like to see more operas to figure it out. There’s a possibility that it may be easier to get enthralled into more popular operas like The Magic Flute or Carmen which already have a certain magnetism to them because they’ve been around for a while.

So, as I reflect on my experience with the opera and my thoughts on the reading, I think about whether Cusco is being too strict about having photos represent life in its most realistic way and not in a “previous prejudice” that is rarely seen. Although some of those instances of the festivals and dramatic landscapes being captured are rare to experience in real life, that doesn’t mean they can’t occur at all. Even though I couldn’t understand all that was being sung in the opera, there were moments where the line did land or the singer went for their big notes and those moments gave me the chills I had entered the opera expecting to get. There should certainly be a balance of what is represented but being able to weed out those breathtaking instances, whether from a photo of a place/culture or during an opera performances are what give the experiences their authenticity

Teju Cole and Raghubir Singh

dannyfarran

Unfortunately, I was not able to make it to The Exterminating Angel, but I was able to see the exhibit Modernism on the Ganges by Raghubir Singh and I do see the points that Teju Cole made in his essay. When looking at some of McCurry’s more notable photographs they seem fraudulent and more like artwork. I don’t see life when looking at them. I see a still frame with poses not conveying any natural emotions. McCurry’s photographs, although beautiful, feel too forced. Cole is right, Singh’s photographs “[draw] a breathtaking coherence out of the chaos of the everyday.” Sing’s work is more insightful and encapsulates reality because reality is not all glam and artsy. I don’t mean to be critiquing McMurray’s work and deciding it to be inferior to Singh’s work because it is a stylistic approach. But, I, much like Cole, prefer a more lively picture that evokes emotion. I don’t find myself as infatuated with the picture of the Afghan girl that McCurry took as I am with something like Singh’s Subhas Chandra Bose Statue. Singh’s photograph brings out the hectic nature of the city he’s photographing. Singh’s photo may not be aesthetically pleasing but it is far more interesting. Comparison of the two could best be described like this: compare the paintings of the coalition war where forces were glorified to the works found in the twentieth century like Guernica depicting the horrors of the Spanish Civil War. There is a complete change in feel. From proud and dignified to grotesque and blood curdling. Singh’s work isn’t grotesque, but it is a different way to depict people and life that in my opinion is better suited for such a task. Singh’s photographs seem more truthful and honest to the day to day life of the people he captures; not withholding any details that might bother the viewed or detract from the photos beauty. Singh’s photos are dedicated to every aspect of life that appear in front of him.

Teju Blog Post

anethnaranjo

When I first began watching Carmen, I wasn’t sure I was going to like it because I’ve never seen an opera before. However, once I was five minutes into it I realized that I was actually really enjoying it. I really admired how effortless and casual the cast made everything look, even though every stage movement is planned and choreographed. I think the reason why I really enjoyed seeing all the stage movements was because it reminded me of when I used to dance. My dance teacher always told us that our transitions had to be smooth and look effortless, but we actually spent days rehearsing them. I was also hesitant how I would feel about many people singing the same thing at once, especially when they lyrics are about everyday things. The first time I saw this was when a group of kids sang about the soldiers coming into town. I got really happy seeing the kids sing and dance because they showed so much talent at such a young age. I ended up not really pay attention to the fact that it’s not normal to sing and dance in unison. I also enjoyed seeing and hearing the factory girls come out and sing in unison. The reason why I enjoyed it was because, once again, they made it seem so effortless and casual that it just seemed normal. Eventually, the singing did get harder to follow because the actors were stretching out words that really didn’t have any special meaning to the sentence. Despite the singing getting a little boring, I did enjoy Carmen overall and I really respect the actors for making their work so effortless.

The two images I chose show two of Singh’s elements: human presence and capacious content. The first image show both of these elements. The wide picture shows the spacious relationship between the two characters. The characters in the background also show the element of human presence. Singh liked to take pictures that showed everyday moments that are not necessarily especial. The men in the background having casual talk shows this type of moment as well. The second image shows human presence. This picture was taken after the factory girls got out of work. While the men were singing to them, the girls proceeded to do things that one normally does after getting out of work, like yawn.

Image 1
Image 2

Shyann C. – Coco Fusco

shyc99

 

Unoxuno by Melissa Calderon

 

At first glance, this piece says little about anyone’s culture, let alone any form of defiance against cultural appropriation. There is a blue, long, braided textile spread across a wooden surface – most likely a table – with two red circular marks along the left side of the cloth. The view is an overhead one which gives the viewer the illusion of standing over the object. The wood is natural looking – maybe she appreciates the beauty of simple things? The surreal thing about this painting is that the wood looks as real and natural as it gets, however, the string (I’m assuming) is animated; the white string running along the larger blue one looks like a drawn-on line and the blue itself has strokes of different shades of blue. We can also see this was intentional due to the lack of a shadow. Why would the artist place something so animated against something realistic?

After taking a long look and reading Coco’s essay, the simplistic painting revealed so much more information. Calderon might have made the contrast between reality and fiction as a political statement. The fact that the wood was made to look so real hinted at a bigger issue:  one’s true history being wrapped by western interpretations. Wood comes from trees and trees are living things. That being said, the rings around the red spots tell the observer how old that tree is. Given the ripples around the spots, I’d say the tree is old. The blue fabric is unravelled – like DNA – but Calderon made it obviously fake. This might have been her way of pointing out the wrongness of European interpretations of Hispanic culture. The cloth symbolizes the expected roles of Hispanic women; the “it runs in their DNA” perceptions of Westerners are represented by the animated-like string and is placed against the old wooden surface (a surface that may be as old as the false interpretations.

Coco’s essay made me think about how important perception is. The truth of multiple, diverse civilizations becomes lost when aggressive forces – white Europeans – need to find evidence that supports their theory of racial superiority. Since Columbus, non- European cultures have been placed on display as uncivilized and exotic peoples in need of enlightenment. In layman terms, white people needed to boost their ego. By using their influence to intimidate other cultures into submission, the Europeans created stereotypes about indigenous peoples that were written in history as absolute fact.

Calderon’s artwork is an act of rebellion because she is attempting to call out the biased way of thinking among Europeans and Americans. By placing a false blue cloth – a symbol of cultural gender roles – against a wooden background – the hard truth, she is separating the western interpretations from reality. She also uses small things, like the DNA-like structure of the string in an animated setting, to make larger statements. The culture of Hispanics has been manipulated into a westerners’ fantasy and passed off for too many generations as truth. In Coco’s essay, the bold move of pretending to be exotic, undiscovered peoples in order to expose the white man’s tenacity of appropriating “inferior” cultures, is the response to the messages sent by artists like Calderon. The “unconscious structures of belief” aspect of the piece is that the Europeans don’t realize that they are misinterpreting the truth; it’s basic confirmation bias – they will view these cultures in a primitive light if it helps to prove that Europeans are the dominant and superior race.

The message that Calderon was trying to relay was well hidden and many might have missed it like I had at first glance.  Both Coco and Calderon’s methods of attacking the threat to their culture’s history are an intelligent use of bait and perception.

Coco Fusco

anethnaranjo

Tu Afro no cabe en la foto-Alex Guerrero

Eight Seconds:

My first impression of this artwork is how the subject’s afro takes up the majority of the print. This makes me think that the artist considers the afro a very important part of the subject’s identity. The overflow of the subject’s afro from the first frame seems to be an act of rebellion against the norm, the norm being hair that is able to fit in the frame (straighter, less volume). The subject seems to be proving that she has more to offer than what is asked/accepted in society, her afro serving as her symbol for her message. Also, the borders seem to be part of the print, as opposed to just being the background.

Ten Minutes:

After observing the artwork for ten minutes, I was able to take in Alex Guerrero’s message much deeper. I was able to see why Coco Fusco claims that art is an effective tool to fight racism and other justice issues. Alex Guerrero’s fights against the western beauty standards that claim being beautiful means having straight hair and a light complexion. The words “Tu Afro No Cabe En La Foto” (“Your Afro Doesn’t Fit in the Photo”) represent these western beauty standards. These words also represent how unbeautiful women with afros are often made to feel. The “doesn’t fit” part really struck out to me because oftentimes women who can’t fit into western beauty standards are made to feel as if they don’t fit into society, as if they’re not wanted. The white strokes at the border that seem to be filling in the blackness of the subject’s hair is really representative of this. It shows how criticism of women with afro hair often eat away at the confidence of a woman. Women have and continue to straighten their hair and lighten their complexion because they have consistently been told that if they don’t they will never find someone that will love them. African American and Afro-Latina women were especially told this so that they would be ashamed of their ethnicity and culture, giving more power to white people. After hearing it so many times, women begin to believe this. However, the subject’s big and voluminous hair becomes an act of resistance and defiance against society’s oppressive views of beauty. Her hair shows that her hair isn’t the problem, the frame is. Her hair is unruly and free, showing that she is in control. The freedom of her hair shows the freedom of her spirit because she has refused to go by western beauty standards. She has found her own version of beautiful and shows it proudly. Guerrero is making the statement that beauty does not exclusively mean straight hair and that people’s oppressive view of beauty needs to change. The subject’s unapologetic facial expression show two things: how unapologetic Guerrero is for making her statement and how unapologetic all women with afros should be for being themselves. This art piece is effective at fighting racism and oppressive beauty standards because it represents all women with afro hair. Representation is so important when fighting social issues because it gives people who have been oppressed confidence and a voice in the fight. Alex Guerrero does just that in an image and seven words.  

Memoir

Maryam

https://www.artfromguantanamo.com/moath-alalwi/

Half a Decade

The sea brims waves with foam and the sky with clouds.

I rode in on the latter.

 

I was born in June, a summer baby. And naturally, I have an affinity for the sea. I can’t actually swim well enough for it to be called swimming.

Once when we went on an excursion in the waters surrounding the Dominican Republic, my father and I were strapped into life vests and instructed to swim toward the barriers where the sea life was (there we could take photos with sting rays and admire coral—the standard tropical tourist treatment). I timidly climbed down the ladder of the boat, knowing that this nine year old body couldn’t swim. I knew it was deep, the water was dark. So when I plopped down, despite all the reassuring from my father and the guide, I panicked. I went down before I went up. The life vest on, and I still was submerged before I was floating. I grasped the rungs and climbed back up to the safety of the deck.

This past May we went to Florida for a bit, school was basically over and everyone needed a break of some sorts. On one of the last days we drove out to Hollywood Beach. The water was clear and blue, and of course enchanting. Warm and so, so soothing. Facing away from the beach, and out into the horizon, the water was divided: clear blue, dark blue, and again clear blue. People were swimming past the dark patch and ending up in calf-deep water. So I swam into it. And I got there. (I also convinced my non-swimming-incredibly-afraid-of-deep-water Mom to come in, and later when the tides changed she was stranded… oops).

I am not afraid until I am out of my depth. So my love remains. My love remains because I remember the summers waking up and loading into Oksana’s car and heading out to Coney Island. My love remains because I remember the thermoses we filled and headed to Rockaway. And because I remember the brief visit home and the sand of the Caspian Sea, we rubbed it into our hair and all over our skin, it was just sand.

When we first moved here, it was a lot of plane riding. From Baku to Istanbul, a brief respite, and from Istanbul to New York. It was difficult for me. But not as difficult as it was for my parents. And not as difficult as I made it. Any time I had my hands on a paper and a pen, I drew. And every time the drawing was the same. A family on a plane headed home. I did not understand why I was isolated. Why was I removed from world I knew? Why was I suddenly imprisoned?

I had spent one hundred percent of my life watching the sea bubble around my toes as my mom called from the shore “Don’t get mazut in your hair.” I had sat on light wooden benches built into decks as we sailed, boasting about never getting seasick. I had found fascination at the airport. Everything measured, accounted for, systematic. I loved the flights.

I felt agonizing pain in my ears as we descended onto the runway. The lady in front of us looked back pityingly, as my mom pushed a candy in my mouth and instructed me to pace the aisle.

Being in the sky was different. Surrounded by clear blue. The clouds bubbled around the smooth metal. We were airborne.

The next summer, when my feet felt the Atlantic, I was unfazed by the cold, I’d forgotten the warmth of the Caspian. I’d forgotten that before the threat was oil, because now I was steering clear of plastic bags. I’ve forgotten about the airplanes.

I didn’t hit the shores, I hit the runway, in a vessel nonetheless. My luck brought peace with it, safety. I was not imprisoned, I was rescued.

Teju Cole blog post

dkrule

In Teju Cole’s essay, he talks about the previous prejudice that a lot of the world holds toward India (“Hindu festivals, men in turbans, women in saris”) and the difference between how photographers look at it differently through their lenses. The way many photographers look at India is solely through the lens of tradition, while the real India is a blend of the traditional with the modern. The Met Opera is also a mix of old and new. The institution has been around for well over a century, but in that time it has changed dramatically, not just in location but in atmosphere as well. It used to have a very exclusive feeling, and it may still seem that way from the outside. While the building is still luxurious (especially with the velvet wallpaper), anyone can now go, wearing pretty much whatever they want, and not necessarily feel uncomfortable. There’s also a ton of free events, making it more accessible than ever. Going to the Met Opera may still seem like a fancy night out, but it doesn’t feel exclusive to one group of people anymore. For my photos, I took one picture of the signature opulent chandelier and one of the people waiting in line for the women’s room during intermission. While some people were dressed to impress, others were just wearing jeans and a sweater, and no one was wearing anything like a gown or a tuxedo. I see this as a step in the right direction. I enjoy getting gussied up just like a lot of people, but not liking it, not to mention money issues, shouldn’t automatically exclude you from an experience you’d otherwise enjoy.
As far as the opera that we saw goes, I really liked it. I’ve always been a fan of Luis Buñuel and I thought that it was a thorough and entertaining adaptation of his work.
I’ve always been a firm believer that art is for everyone that wants it, and something as trivial as how you dress or what socioeconomic class you’d consider yourself to be from shouldn’t prevent you from having important experiences.

Teju Cole – Dylan Senkiw

Dylan Senkiw

 

Pre Opera:                                                             Post Opera:

            

 

My initial interpretation of the Opera was that it was a very formal event. The grandiose theater, suit jackets and flowing gowns created strict social expectations, in my mind. Expectations of formality and “sophisticated thinking” that suited an older generation.  Everyone should be very respectful and conservative. I imagined it less as a social event, but more of a solitary viewing. I thought that everyone would want to keep to themselves and just appreciate the performance.

I also had a preconceived notion of the performance itself. I was expecting the opera to be almost completely singing, and although the words would certainly tell a story, I did not anticipate the amount of acting and story telling that occurred. Personally, I think the story of the opera is a good way to draw in an audience who may not be solely concentrated on the vocal skills. Still, the opera is still target at a very specific audience.

Upon experiencing the opera, many of my previous thoughts remained to be true. Many of the viewers were indeed older and white. As a group of 20 teenagers, I definitely felt out of place. Additionally, it was definitely a strict environment. At the start of the performance, a man aggressively shushed us. Although it is our responsibility to be quiet, the man could’ve been much more polite as the play was only just about to begin. This confirmed my belief that those who go to the opera are

Although some of my previous thoughts were confirmed, some aspects of the opera were unexpected. I was personally surprised by the laughter of the audience. This broke the strict setting, and silent watching.

Overall, many of my previous thoughts were confirmed. The opera attracts a very specific audience. I would’ve appreciated it more if I knew the effort that went into the production. For example, I appreciate orchestras more because I play the violin and I know the effort that goes into the ensemble.

My picture after watching the opera represents Singh’s photography because the empty stage shows “a potential space for people not yet in the picture” (Teju Cole). I tried not to capture anything that would suggest a bias, or illicit a certain feeling. My picture was meant to show something clear and avoid a previous prejudice.

Opera Expirence

Elisa Mateo-Saja

Before watching the “Exterminating Angel” I figured the opera would be filled with people of this nature. Older Caucasians who brought binocular along with them to view a play much too far away. A group of people annoyed from the start with new attendees that didn’t quite understand what was about to ensue.   As we walked into the very crowded theater and took our seats, I noticed the crowd. Around us were middle-aged and elderly people, all of whom were white. I spotted literally no people of color. There were quite murmurs filling the theater as we waited for the show to begin. And our fellow opera attendees, sat with their binoculars pressed up against their faces gazing down at the stage. Personally, I don’t understand the appeal. Not to a watching a show so far away. But all that aside waited patiently to see a show I figured would be uninteresting, difficult to understand and in no way relatable to my life.

I know we weren’t supposed to take photos during the opera but I thought this was a keep part of my experience that I hadn’t expected. I didn’t intend to be reading the entirety of the opera because it was in English. But it was not comprehensible. The singing was so drawn out I couldn’t understand anything any of the characters were saying. And at our distance, much f the time I couldn’t notice who was speaking because the spotlight wasn’t strong enough. I thought it as cluttered, and strange. And quite frankly uninteresting to me. In reading the essay it is obvious that Singh’s work is not only amazing and breathtaking, but it is inspired. I struggled to find his work as a representation of my opinions of the opera because my prejudices were justified and my photos were uninspired by the opera itself. I found myself, through most of the performance, reading not watching the extremely complex show. Not only could I not follow the dialogue but when I did look up, I was confused by green hand holographs, weird dancing insect-esque people, bears, and sheep. In summation, the opera was just not my thing.