Author Archives: Sara Camnasio

About Sara Camnasio

I'm Sara, yes Sara without the H. I was born in an anonymous town in the middle of nowhere, in the industrial Northern Italy. I grew up with my fingers sticky from pasta dough and my face powdered with flour, helping my grandmother to make the most loved meals in the world. I was tossed in my grandma's arms at age 4—when my parents divorced—and I lived a spoon-fed life until I was 8, when I moved with my father and his new wife to what would have become my hometown. Bosisio Parini—a name that barely appears on any map—was the place I spent most of my life in: two-thousand people, three churches, and the lake, puddle of memories. But despite its stunning beauty, that limiting environment granted no future for us. So I had to jump, take the biggest leap of my life: on the 22nd of December 2009 I moved to the Big Apple with my mother and sister, leaving my dad to Italy to support us financially. I was thrown in the illogical world of slang and French fries, but somehow—fantastically—I managed to become part of it without gaining fifty pounds. I may speak with my hands, but I swear one can barely hear my accent. I feel more American than ever, although I'll never forget my origins; that little village—to me—is that one place where you feel like you left your anchor. I mean—would have been a pretty heavy load to carry overseas, all the way to New York city.

Opera

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Don Giovanni was an extreme pleasure to watch for the second time, as I already knew the lyrics and I had seen it in 8th grade. I think this opera was definitely a tragedy because although it contained elements of comedy here and there, it ended with the main character falling into Hell. Act II especially was submerged into this very dark tone of death and fate, which definitely out-shadowed the comedy. I also believe the biggest contribution to this tragic attribute was the moral within this story, which is that no one cannot simply abuse of others without paying for it, and the protagonist learned it on his own skin. Another important theme in the Don Giovanni was social classes. Class differences were very noticeable and well portrayed in the performance: both the costume choices and the way the actors behaved when confronted with each other reflected their social status and gave a sense of who had the power. Especially when Masetto and Don Giovanni had encounters one could really see the power-abusing manners of the noble class as compared to the zealous and humble lower-class.

The music contributed to the story in the sense that it set the tone of a scene before anything happened. One could already tell what kind of actions were going to take place just by listening to an allegro or a moderato; the different tempos really gave me hints about the happenings. The music also contributed to the understanding of the relationship between the characters as, for example, in love scenes the music would slow down to a dreamy game of notes.

Opera, to me, is one of the most articulated and noble of all art performances. As I was watching Don Giovanni I could not stop wondering how long it took to put such thing together, how much talent, creativity and genius was put into it. Opera must be one of the most well-rounded forms of performance out there, as it incorporates dance, acting, singing and music composition. I believe it must be preserved as precious treasure and harmony of different art fields.

 

Sara Camnasio

Post-modern Dance – Pina Bausch

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Pina Bausch show “…como el musguito en la piedra. ay si, si, si..” was an extraordinarily revolutionary piece. For the most part following the philosophy of post-modern dance, Bausch created a choreography in which the bodies of the dancers were the eye’s magnets, and led the inertia of the dance. A mix comedy and intense moments of tension and movement, the choreography was thoroughly broken up into apparently random sketches and dance pieces, along with a beautiful Spanish soundtrack. Probably the most post-modern dance element was the fact the music would suddenly interrupt and change to a completely different tone, as if what you really had to focus on were the dancers, and everything else was merely functional, it had no deeper meaning. The movement of the dancers was very flowing, continuous, as opposed to the music which kept changing tone. The minimal setting, also along the philosophy of the post-modern movement, was composed of a white floor that kept breaking up and getting  back together randomly throughout the performance, once again as if that was not the main focus.

I found, however, that some elements contrasted post-modern dance; for example the costumes were very colorful, there was a lot of different props brought in, and the dancers were not bare foot most of the time, they were wearing dancing shoes or even heels. All these last aspects pretty much contrasted what the philosophy of post-modern dance was, which shifted the focus from the music and setting along with a choreography to strictly the movement of the bodies.

Overall, I thought what really symbolized the essence of the show were the moments between the comical sketches in which the dancers would fluidly embrace the stage with their movements, in pieces about 5-minutes long each, and that would completely capture the eye of the viewer that would follow the water-like movements of the dancer’s hair and limbs.

 

Sara Camnasio

Caretaker Studies – Sara Camnasio

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The person I chose for both poses was my step-mother.

The first pose was the concrete pose. Despite most people thought that it was a pose of  questioning another person, or perplexity in front of an art work, it was something that my mom always does when she forgets what she was about to do. It perhaps came out a little too dramatic/theatrical than I expected it to be, but it’s something that when I see it, I picture my mother right away. Because she’s an extremely busy woman, she’s always doing 15000 things at the same time, so it happens very often that she forgets what she was doing. With this pose I also wanted to incorporate her very youthful ego: she has a lot of energy and everyone always thinks she’s much younger than her actual age, and I think the pose I chose was not one of a 40-year-old woman, but rather a 30-year-old one.

The abstract pose I chose had very deep roots. My mother was the last of 7 children, 5 of which males. She had  never been supported by anyone in her family, even when she went to college (something that back then in Italy was reserved to an elite of people) and she was working full time so that she wouldn’t have to ask money to her parents, they told her she was crazy. Even being a 30-year-old responsible mother, she was still being checked on by her father, who would always come ask us where she was and why she wasn’t at home with us the whole time. Her male-dominated family never valued her opinion, and even her sister(who should have allied with her against the attacks of her brothers) always criticized her. Now that we moved here, my mother is finally free to be, or at least more free. Her family still tells her she’s crazy because she moved here. The arms spread out, as if opposing something represent her strength in always being able to push away that criticism and become the amazing woman she is. The head thrown back, looking up, is her wish, partly accomplished, of being free to do what she wants. The foot forward, finally, symbolizes that she always went forward no matter all the negative that surrounded her.

Sara Camnasio

 

Snapshot Day

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“The Aeroplane Over the Sea”

Unfortunately enough, on snapshot day I was extremely sick, as in can’t-get-out-of-bed sick. Interestingly, it actually turned out to be aligning perfectly with snapshot day, in a way that things fell into place very easily. In fact, I was tortured by the thought that I wasn’t going to take an interesting picture, that I was going to have to rush to school and get out for maybe a few hours and roam around, taking so many pictures to the point that even my own feet could suddenly become a possible subject. But I got sick; while I was driving through Queens to get to my house, where I would have spent the rest of my feverish sickness that day, we stopped at a gas station, right next to the water. For some reason, I decided to get out in the cold blade of the autumnal breeze, which revealed itself not to be a very good idea for my throat. All of a sudden, I  noticed something moving in the sky, right above the water: an airplane was about to approach La Guardia airport and land. Having my phone on me, I ran as close as I could, trying to get the perfect shot. I had time to get maybe two pictures, one of which wasn’t quite what I was looking for. The one I picked, which I decided to call “The Aeroplane Over the Sea”, was far more amazing in details than I first expected.

A first look might not quite catch the eye, but as you examine further the snapshot, you can suddenly notice how the duck on the water seems to be racing the airplane. If I had had time to align my camera better, the surface of the water traces pretty fairly the first one-third, horizontal line of the frame. The airplane and its route cut the picture in half. I found it interesting how the picture is slightly slanted, not making the surface of the water and the horizon perfectly horizontal, but instead is aligned with the originally slanted airplane, as if the airplane was really the reference point, not the surroundings. I thought another pretty amazing detail is the bridge (not sure which one) that you can see on the left part of the horizon, pushing the viewer’s eye further and further…

I love how instantaneous this picture was. I got so worried I would have had to roam around and wouldn’t have been satisfied, when–paradoxically–all I did was get sick and just snap a photo in one fleeing instant at a gas station.

 

Sara Camnasio

Review of “The beginning of something” by RoseAnne Spradlin

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When I read Wendy Oliver’s “Dance Critique”, I started realizing there is in fact a method to approach an apparently “too interpretable” subject (dance) in an objective way. Oliver suggests that critiquing dance is pretty much like writing about art, since the same principles apply. Just like before approaching a painting one studies the painter, one should research and read about a choreographer before attending a performance. Knowing the choreographer’s style and techniques, or even simply philosophy, could help see and interpret recurrent symbolism and mood in a performance. Oliver also suggests that one should try to just be in the moment when attending a performance: just take everything in without having a polluting filter of interpretation; most of the dance’s significance resides in the energy of the “live” element. It’s also important, however, to take a few notes and remember key characteristics of the performance for later reference. I believe reading Oliver before the seeing a dance gave me the confidence that it is ok to just try to sit back and absorb the momentousness of the performance without interpreting too much.

I did not have any realistic expectation about RoseAnne Spradlin’s show before I entered the theater. I just thought it was going to be a boring hour of meaningless, weird, and awkward movement of bodies which I would have gotten nothing out of. On the contrary, Spradlin’s show resonated with me so much that I found myself in tears half-way through it. The space of the performance was a stage just a little higher than the ground, mirrors all around, a mini-orchestra on one side, and a waterfall-like set of lights behind us. The dancers were all naked, if not at the beginning, later in the piece. The few clothes that were put on and off were at first just skirts, tape, and flanels, and then in the second half fancier night dresses, as if to symbolize a change in mood. The music was extremely contrasting: at the very beginning and end of the first part of the dance, a merry tune was performed live by the orchestra, followed by a deep, almost creepy, cry of violins for the rest of the performance.

As stated previously, the choreography was divided in two halves. The first one  contrasting musically and scenically, and the second one focused on a depressing, frustrating and exasperated tone. The dancer’s movements were at times very slow and dreamy, then suddenly of an exasperating energy. Jumps and fallings, twitching and the nudity gave the dance a very raw and exposed tone.

In the dance, it seemed that deeply engraved within it were the sorrowful experiences of insecurity of women today. In particular, strengthened by the choice of nudity, it seemed that the conflict woman versus own body was central. The dancers seemed to try at first to fit the expectations of society (e.g. putting on fancy decorations that looked out of place on them), trying to convince themselves that what was obviously unnatural, looked good on them and gave them the confidence they needed. This seek for external strengthening for internal confidence is consolidated by the runway-like walks the dancers seemed to be forcing themselves to do, screaming “DO IT!”. They kept poses, walked in a certain way with certain attitudes, as if attempting to feel accepted, but they ended up driving themselves to exhaustion and exasperation, to the point where they all started twitching and falling and turning until they couldn’t move anymore. Then, suddenly, an awakening follows, they remove their clothes, the music changes. It’s “the beginning of something.” They are comfortable, accepting their bodies and themselves; the music sings “accept me the way I am, love me the way I am” as if conveying the message that before being able to be loved, one has to love themselves.

This dance extremely connected to me; throughout its unfolding at my eyes, I saw more and more meaning within my experience as a woman. It was very raw and intense piece that would definitely leave and imprint in the audience’ memory.

 

Sara Camnasio

Sara Camnasio

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I’m Sara, yes Sara without the H. I was born in an anonymous town in the middle of nowhere, in the industrial Northern Italy. I grew up with my fingers sticky from pasta dough and my face powdered with flour, helping my grandmother to make the most loved meals in the world. I was tossed in my grandma’s arms at age 4—when my parents divorced—and I lived a spoon-fed life until I was 8, when I moved with my father and his new wife to what would have become my hometown. Bosisio Parini—a name that barely appears on any map—was the place I spent most of my life in: two-thousand people, three churches, and the lake, puddle of memories. But despite its stunning beauty, that limiting environment granted no future for us. So I had to jump, take the biggest leap of my life: on the 22nd of December 2009 I moved to the Big Apple with my mother and sister, leaving my dad to Italy to support us financially. I was thrown in the illogical world of slang and French fries, but somehow—fantastically—I managed to become part of it without gaining fifty pounds. I may speak with my hands, but I swear one can barely hear my accent. I feel more American than ever, although I’ll never forget my origins; that little village—to me—is that one place where you feel like you left your anchor. I mean—would have been a pretty heavy load to carry overseas, all the way to New York city.

I believe art is anything that serves as a medium to transmit emotions for someone to perceive them through their own filter on the other side. I like art that has strong messages and that challenges the standards, the accepted values and the conventions. When I go to museums I tend to drift away on my own and look for minor pieces–sort of like a treasure hunt… I always imagine there is a hidden piece, a painting everybody passes by, an ignored masterpiece that only I could truly appreciate and decode. I’m not a big fan of paintings with huge lines across them, but I do think that they are art and they are good art too. My favorite painter isAlbert Bierstadt, and I was so excited when we went to the Brooklyn museum and I got to see “A Storm in the Rocky Mountains” again (it was a huge painting that took up the whole wall and had a valley and the sun cutting through the clouds).

I am an Astronomy intern at the Museum of Natural History, I play guitar, sing, play volleyball, model, and I love going to concerts. My biggest dream is to become an astronaut!

Blog A

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Discuss how you feel one can apply the concepts presented by Berger in looking at the Modern Art exhibition at MOMA?

I think one of the most interesting things in Berger’s book is that the writer suddenly shifts the spotlight on the painter. He talks about how many art historians usually attempt to give meaning to the way an artist portrays its subjects, interpreting every detail and imagining the reactions of the public to such details. Berger, though, gives the suggestion to picture that artist behind the canvas, its mood and feelings, and how they knew what their duty was-how they were supposed to paint the scene.

Another interesting point that Berger made was about time and space in which a piece of art is set into. This gives way to reflecting about reproductions but also original pieces, which have all been equally stripped of their original time and space dimensions. One might think how suddenly inappropriate would a Picasso’s masterpiece be on someone’s shirt, but then Berger claims that even museums deprive the pieces of their original location meaning and mood.

Now, going to MoMA with all of these new interesting concepts and ideas in mind, I closely looked at each painting with a different eye. I tried to look at the date of the art I was looking at, picturing it in the original location-a church, a private villa, a yard-and I could perceive a totally different tone and meaning out of the piece. Sometimes even the colors changed, and certain objects resonated with the original environment. Unfortunately, most of the pieces at MoMA did not include where they were supposed to be, or if I wasn’t familiar with the artist I just could not get a sense where it was even crafted. Definitely, knowing all of these things now make me acknowledge my ignorance in this sense and encourage me to research further into the time and space dimensions of a painting when I try to really get a meaning out of it.

Sara

Erica’s self portrait

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Erica decided to use her physical responses to stress and frustration as main shapers of her performance’ tone. Frenetically writing on her notebook, she allowed us to peek into her head and get a taste of her internal anxiety about starting a new life in college and finding herself lost in a world she’s not familiar with. The questions she writes down and then shows to the audience, by opening her notebook to us as if she wanted to emphasize that she is really opening herself to us, are all reflections of the state of doubt and insecurity she found herself in. “What is going on?” “Where is my next class?” when she probably really wants to say “What am I doing in this unfamiliar place?”. Despite all of this confusion in her head, she still goes on through the day, class by class, notebook page by notebook page.

At last, a smile and a sigh of happiness: she’s finally home. As we glance at the last notebook page she will show to the audience, as if to make clear that once at home she will retire in her private relaxing mind state, Erica takes out all of her books, or maybe she is really getting rid of all the stressors she had in her mind, weighting on her shoulders throughout the day. She is now ready to just sit back and listen to some music, but she is faced with one last challenge: untangling her headphones. Unplanned, but incredibly fitting in, this event resonates right away with the audience and gives the whole performance a final touch of genuinity.

So, something that really worked was the headphones getting tangled, which were probably one of the strongest elements of the whole self-portrait. It’s amazing how something so little and unexpected had the ability to connect Erica and the audience. Something else that really worked was her concluding out-loud exclamation: “Finally home!”, which were also the first time we heard her voice throughout the whole scene (besides when the unplanned headphones tangling happened); it really got the audience the feeling that she is the most comfortable at home, while everywhere else she is living-in-my-head-Erica.

I found filming and watching the performance live not too challenging, as I am used to filming things all the time. I still found some difficulties in keeping a balance between watching and filming, and trying to zoom in at the right moment, but it wasn’t challenging overall.

Here some more screenshots from Erica’s self-portrait: