Jerome Bel’s “Disabled Theater” was fascinating, entertaining, and very moving. I think that having a translator translate everything was very moving because you could see the facial expressions on the actors before you knew what they were saying.  At one point, an actress looked down – seemingly in shame as she spoke in German.  The translator then translated for her: “I’m sorry for my disability.”  I wanted to tear up.

I absolutely don’t think Jerome Bel was exploiting the actors’ disabilities.  I think he was giving them a second chance and a means by which they can believe they live a totally normal life.  Once they all stated that as a profession, they were all actors, I imagined it must be hard for disabled people to find parts in shows.  But you could hear in their voice that they were all very committed to being actors.  Bel let them truly be themselves on a stage, in front of an audience, just as any non-disabled actor would do in a theater setting.

Every actor was thrilled to be called up onto stage to do their dance rendition.  They all seemed to have so much fun showing their creations, and as an audience member, I was thrilled to see their performances.  Their excitement, even the clapping and lip singing from the other actors during each performance, was contagious.  I wanted to clap with them!  Every actor made me smile.  They had not a care in the world.  They danced how they wanted to.  They showed off their talents as best as they could and they had the power to control an audience.

What I don’t understand is why Bel would choose seven of the “best” performances to display.  It was apparent that every actor was proud of his or her work, so it upset me at first to hear that some actors would not be allowed to perform their piece.  I was relieved, though, when he gave the last three a chance.  But as to why he even broke them up into groups in the first place confuses me.  I thought the last three were equally as good, powerful, and moving as the first seven.

It just so happens that we have to perform a 3-5 minute dance performance as our final project.  For me to choose my song and choreograph my piece took a long time.  Hours and hours.  I really tried to convey that my dad lives a normal life and then reflects on his days and tries to find things that could be made humorous.  The actors we saw all also had to compile a 3-5 minute piece.  Seeing that they were able to successfully do so and especially have fun with it showed me that they are just as capable of performing as non-disabled people are.

Overall, I think Jerome Bel is doing a beautiful thing.  He is allowing these people that are probably always pitied to let their voice and body be “heard” saying that there is no need to pity them.  I would highly recommend this performance.  It’s a lot of fun and it made me feel warm inside.

– Kyle (Blog B)

Anne Teresa De Keersmaeker’s Cesena starts off with a screaming man belting out tribal-sounding chants, then later running in a circle while the audience watches in near complete darkness, barely being able to see the action on the stage.  After doing a little research to more familiarize myself with De Keersmaeker’s work, I learned that this darkness (which later turns into light) is intended to signify the time just as the dawn is about to break.  From behind, the rest of the dancers enter stage, singing with arms over shoulders.  The skin of the dancers sketches incomplete drawings for us, and it is this and only this that gives us some idea of what action is occurring on stage.

The dancers and singers that were a part of Cesena made great use of the stage.  Much of the performance revolved around or in the circle, be it dancing in synchronicity around the circle made of sand, running around the circle, or gathering as a group inside of the circle swaying back and forth, arms over shoulders, and so on, but once the sand was moved around, the dance broke from the circle and turned into a full use of the stage.  I found it beautiful each time a dancer glided over the circle, leaving the sand displaced and tearing the shape apart.

The circle is where almost all of the interactions took place, as opposed to outside where the dancers were almost always unaccompanied.  I noticed that the movements outside of the circle were more disjointed than those inside of the circle, which were graceful and gentle.  I can’t say for sure what the intent was behind the piece, but the way I read into the circle and the motions we saw on stage, I saw a metaphor for inclusion vs. exclusion: when you’re in the circle (like in a social setting), you’re surrounded by others; when you’re out of the loop, you are alone.  It is only within this circle, or group, that you are a member of something larger than yourself.  I’m sure I’m way off key here, but that’s how I interpreted it.

I think the piece could be broken up into three elements: dance, light, and sound.  Both the lighting and the singing were integral components of the dance.  Before the lights came on, we were eagerly waiting in the audience to see what was going on on the stage.  I could see traces of people, but my main focus was directed towards the choral component.  The audio was beautiful throughout the piece, but especially during the dark periods on stage, it added emotion and kept my attention.  The minimalistic use of lighting added excitement for me because I couldn’t see everything that was happening, but I could hear footsteps and vocals and glides, and all types of movements.  The idea to use lighting the way it was was terrific.

I found Anne Teresa De Keersmaeker’s Cesena to be very lively and enjoyable.  Although I am a novice when it comes to analyzing dance and wasn’t able to fully grasp what De Keersmaecker was trying to achieve, I truly respected and appreciated all of the elements and thoughts she put into her piece and left the theater feeling satisfied.

Kyle (Blog B)

Andre Kertesz

The Tender Touch, Bilinski

1915

I chose this photo because the topic matter is up for interpretation and leaves me wanting to know more about what exactly is happening. The viewer cannot tell why the man’s hand is where it is. Is it because he is encouraging the woman to work (similar to a pat on the back), to follow him, or is he trying to engage her in a sexual manner (since his hand is where it is — and if so, is she willingly allowing him to do so)? It seems like there is a personal connection between the two of them since the look on the man’s face is clearly joyful, but since we cannot see the woman’s face, we cannot know for sure.

Although the photograph is titled The Tender Touch, we don’t entirely know what tender means in this context, as I explained above. It’s also interesting to note that Kertesz, the photographer, was a white photographer taking pictures of black people during times of segregation.  It doesn’t seem like this photo was staged.  It looks like he has a genuine smile on his face and it seems like his feet are in the middle of moving.  This adds excitement and reality to the image.

Despite this photo being so lively, I don’t think it follows the golden ratio or the rule of thirds. These definitions suggest breaking up the picture and off-centering the subject matter. They claim that pictures that do not do this (such as this one) are amateurish. The subjects in this photograph (the man and the woman) are directly positioned in the middle of the image. Nothing is off center.

Instead, the photographer left “space in the picture frame ‘open.'” The man and woman are clearly not stationary. They are moving figures, so the photographer, Kertesz, made sure that there was “space” in front of them. “The view imagines that the subject continues to move, and visualizes it moving through the picture space.” This makes it compositionally strong. You can imagine them continuing to walk through the field. Providing the vast background adds depth and wonder to the image.  I want to know where they are heading, what is over the hill, and where they are coming from.

It is also compositionally strong since they are the main focal point. Kertesz didn’t have to use a special ratio or rule of thirds, and yet still is able to create a vivid photograph that leaves the viewer wanting to know more about what type of event is taking place.

I also plan on framing my image having only a single focal point. I have always felt that having the subject in the middle was more powerful than having it off centered, as some of the readings propose make for a better photograph. I love capturing vivid landscapes with one object directly in the center. I find this to be more aesthetic and more powerful than a picture with the subject matter being off centered. I love playing around with colors.  Of course in 1915, there weren’t colors to choose from, but I plan on utilizing natural saturation as part of my photograph.

Kyle Leighton – Blog B

Analytic post-modern dance is dance that can be done without music or props, aiming to show off the dance and movements without distractions.  This type of dance “rejected musicality, meaning, characterization, mood, and atmosphere” (Banes xiv).  It replaced those losses with costume, lighting, and objects that could be used in purely functional ways.  Banes announces in her book Terpsichore in Sneakers: Post-Modern Dance that analytic post-modern dance was created for the pleasure of the dancer, not for the audience.  In fact, she makes it out to seem like the audience’s opinion doesn’t even matter.

Steve Paxton, a post-modern dancer and choreographer, utilized analytic post-modern dance concepts in his contact improvisational style of dance, as we saw in the video today.  His dance technique entails multiple dancers making physical contact with one another in totally, “improvised” manners.  He commented early on in the video that he wanted his audience to focus on the spontaneity of his dancers’ movements rather than be distracted by music and intentions in the dance.  Banes writes about the same thing.

Banes wrote, “non-dancers suddenly became dancers because of the informality and flexibility” of the new wave (Banes 13).  Paxton agreed with this, and allowed for his dancers to be their own choreographers.  This was the only way to ensure sure spontaneity, as every dancer had a different motion in their head.

Paxton later remarked that playing around with gravity was a key element to this type of dance.  He tried to show the importance of gravity on movements: how it would create a flowing dance (a dance without stops) and a dance that would never allow for the loss of contact.  This also relied heavily on precise timing, as I will mention below.

Paxton tried to show his audience a new form of dance.  One of his improvisational dances was called Flat, in which the dancers got dressed and undressed in real time (Banes xvii).  Banes writes on page 17– in regards to timing – that an action, “is executed without regard to grace… or technical skill.  The action takes exactly the length of time it might take outside the theater.”  This use of timing is key to both analytic post-modern dance and to Paxton’s ideas of what his dance should look and feel like.

Kyle (Blog B)

http://www.nytimes.com/2013/09/21/arts/dance/liz-gerring-dance-offers-mirrorlike-illusions-in-glacier.html?ref=dance

Alastair Macaulay follows Wendy Oliver’s chosen model — the Feldman model — of dance criticism to the T.

He first starts his write-up with general background of the piece.  He gives the time (Tuesday, the week of September 20, 2013), the place (the Alexander Kasser Theater at Montclair State University), the length (60 minutes), and the choreographer’s name (Liz Gerring).  He starts off exactly how Oliver suggests any dance critique should start.

In the first paragraph, he describes the dance movements as “hurl[ling],” “skim[ming],” and “bobbing.”  Oliver states, on page 79 to, “use strong and varied action words…interesting adjectives…colorful adverbs,” and so on.  Macaulay did just that.

Also in his first paragraph, he states his thesis, expressing that the “work has wit… [and that] its moods change like the weather… carry[ing] aspects of poetry and excitement.”  Oliver requires a thesis statement for the piece as a whole, rather than just sweeping statements about specific parts.

Oliver likes the use of similes and metaphors.  Macaulay, early on in his critique, compares the background of the piece to being “like a blank cinema screen.”  He also says the dancing is “as if breaking down boundaries and worlds.”  He uses metaphors and similes to describe what he is seeing, thus creating a visual for his readers.

He then, in his third paragraph introduces the musician (Michael J. Schumacher), who influenced the dance piece.  Macaulay describes the sound created and comments, “the overlap of different instruments suggests not musical harmony but a soundscape of wide multiplicity.”  His innate ability to put into words what sounded so beautiful is amazing.  Although I didn’t personally hear the music, I am already in awe of what it must have sounded like.

In his next paragraph, he brings in outside knowledge and opinion.  He singles out one of the dancers (Benjamin Asriel) and describes how he has taken on a new role that is different from other pieces Macaulay has seen him in.  This is impressive to me because it shows he really knows his stuff.  He isn’t just reading other reviews and comparing what he reads.  He is commenting on plays he has already seen that featured the same actor.

I noticed that he often uses the first person.  Oliver says that it is ok to use the first person or the third person, but that she particularly thinks the first person tense is more “conversational because it brings the reader into direct verbal contact with the writer” (91).

He later goes into detail about one aspect of the dance: the entrances and exits.  He uses the first person to explain why he thinks some of the movements are funny.  He also says that the movements are “both delivered coolly but excitingly.”  He expresses his opinion throughout the paper, but not in a judgmental way, as Oliver stresses should be reserved to the end of the critique.  He brings in personality and character without forcing the reader to think one way or another about the piece yet.

He concludes with the analysis.  He claims that the dance “changes from a seemingly analytical study into a diverse world.”  That the quality of the dance “adds fascination” and that the piece is “moving.”  This is where he finally adds his interpretation and judgment.  He backs up his claim by telling us that he “scrutinize[ed] the movement.”  This is his personal opinion, and following Oliver’s checklist, his opinion is explained.

I have read his critique a number of times now to check for spelling, grammar, or punctuation mistakes and I have yet to find any.  His sentences all vary in length and many provide vivid imagery, as mentioned and exampled above.  His paper is very interesting to read because I can feel the excitement he put into writing it.

Kyle Leighton

Jill Rodesk and I had very different self-portraits.  Hers was all about interacting with the audience, whereas mine was purely a spectacle to watch.

After much thought as to what to do about my self-portrait, I decided to showcase things that are important to me: music, Chinese, exercise, and studying.  My original thought was to write some of my favorite activities on a pre-cut heart made of paper.  I would have drawn this out to be four minutes or so, and this would have been BORING.

I realized that the only interesting way I could show who I am was to do it through dance.  Dance is defined as movement, usually rhythmic to music.  That’s what I tried to accomplish.  For example, my hand gracefully reached toward the keyboard in sync to the soft music, and then I performed my exercise routine during the intense part of the song.  Two very different motions, but both were motions and both were to music.

I was so nervous before performing my act, because, honestly, it was embarrassing and ridiculous.  But once I was up there, showing shortened versions of things I love – things that make up my life – I felt comfortable and excited.

Unlike Jill, I never thought about interacting with the audience.  That would have been fun, but I just didn’t think about it.

Despite our portraits being totally different styles, we did have one thing in common: the “drop.”  My dubstep piece started off with piano and a gospel choir.  This was the time during which I was trying to study but my hand kept, unwillingly, creeping over my body and starting the music again.  The idea was to show that my brain was conflicted: did I want the music on or not?  In my performance, it was supposed to appear as “I truly don’t know.”  As the song neared 1 minute and 30 seconds, the beat started getting faster and more aggressive.  This created a feeling of anticipation.  Finally, it “dropped.”  That means that it went from piano and gospel to fortissimo.  That’s when I threw down my notebook and started to exercise.

Jill’s piece also, in some sense, had a buildup and a drop.  When she handed out her slips of paper, we noticed that they all said to wait until she counted to three.  She started building up anticipation from the beginning, like my music piece.  Then finally, at the end of her piece, she laid down the drop: the countdown from 1 to 3, leading to the opening of the papers she handed out.  It was exciting!  And I’m sure it also made some people’s day.

Kyle Leighton (Blog B, I think)

Before reading The Ways of Seeing and A Short Guide to Writing About Art, the idea of going to a museum voluntarily to look at art on the walls was of no interest to me whatsoever.  The only times I went to museums were for school projects, where I was forced to look at pieces and jot down as many notes as I could as we moved throughout the rooms.  I hated it.  I gained nothing from it because a) I was young and b) the purpose of my visit was to take notes, not to admire the art, as Berger’s and Barnet’s books wish we all would do.

What I found most interesting in both readings is how everyone sees art differently and how context matters.  Art is really like ink blots – you see it, and you think about what you see.  Everyone sees different meanings, different beauty in the strokes, different color patterns – anything.  Some of this changes, though, when given context.  Berger talked about an interesting topic: context.  He mentions that when a painting suddenly has text, or is around other paintings depicting similar things, the image you look at suddenly changes and can transform in meaning in your mind.  I understand this.  It’s like posting a picture to Facebook without saying where you are and what you’re doing.  Anyone looking at the picture would think “oh she is at a concert” or “oh she is in central park” etc.  Context gives meaning to art.

I’m weird when it comes to visual art.  I am a huge fan of Banksy and Space Invader, both visual artists.  What they do, in my eyes, is genius, and so well thought out.  I love looking at their work and breaking them down and thinking about what they are trying to say (Banksy, especially, has A LOT to say all the time!).  I have just never found the same love for the fine arts.  Hopefully these two reads will allow me to feel the same emotions towards the new art I will see as I feel from the aforementioned artists.

In the reading, I also learned something so obvious, but something that most people probably do not think about.  Berger says, “Original paintings are silent and still in a sense that information never is.”  He mentions how reproductions lose a lot of the original beauty because it’s harder to break down the image piece by piece and truly examine it.  It can also, unfortunately, end up on mugs, posters, t-shirts etc. – the meaning can be so washed away that the art just loses all meaning.  Going to the museum and seeing real paintings in the flesh could change my entire perspective (Berger was big on perspective) of various art works I see.

Thinking about Berger’s and Barnet’s opinions and suggestions, I think my trip to the MoMA will be much more meaningful to me.  I will hopefully see art in a different way and I’ll spend time looking at pieces and mentally breaking them down to try and determine the author’s intentions and to appreciate the amount of time and effort that went into the work of art.  Although, seeing with an innocent eye is very hard, since Barnet brought up the idea of a constructionist view (which is certainly how I react to art), I can go in being aware of the right way to look at art.  Will I be able to? I don’t know.  But I am enlightened on the topic now so I will try my best.  Rather than going as a huge school group, I will have time to appreciate and admire what I see and this will ultimately make my visit more productive and pleasurable.