Eccentric Adventures

Aspen Music Festival Music Director Quits. Unexpectedly?

2010-04-09T15:48:00.000-07:00

I can certainly pin point my formative years and specific life changing moments. It's hard to forget them. Sometimes they serve as a rite of passage, others are traumatic events that can leave us forever tainted. Some remain engraved in our memories as the happiest days of our lives.

My dad always told me to enjoy my life as a student. And that I did, to a fault.

I spent my college years obsessing over a cylindrical metal object with holes and keys: the flute. Pierre the slightly arrogant gold flute, Sparky the playful but twisted silver one and Hercules (aka Mariah) the piccolo. And five of those summers were a privilege at the Aspen Music Festival and School. I still have all the programs, an endless myriad of pictures, lifelong friendships, and exponential personal, artistic and professional growth.

During my summers there I wore a fedora and I was nicknamed Indiana Jew. I hiked, I jumped off of a cliff (paraglide), I pseudo-climbed mountains experiencing epic views of the continental divide, I cooked to make money, ushered, had a few love affairs, drank too much, gorged in the local gourmet cuisine, house sat, became a dog walker, developed a love for 70s tunes (at the Tipler), I organized a rafting trip, I learned that I loved working with kids (thanks to a wonderful Debbie Barnekow whose dog Sadie threw up on me), lost weight, gained weight, was featured on one of those wedding shows, and developed a crush on my roommate and had my heart broken.

Oh yes, and then there was the music.

I could name drop for days: conductors, musicians, administrators, lecturers, etc. But the first time I was introduced to David Zinman was a day I would not forget. Bonita Boyd, my teacher at Eastman where I did my undergrad had played under his baton for many years at the Rochester Philharmonic. She introduced me to him and his wife as they were walking their enormous but quirky poodle.

There were many influential musical and aesthetic moments. Whether it was playing Prokofiev's Classical Symphony at superhuman speed - I felt as smoke should come out of my keys and the woodwind section should spontaneously combust - earning the first flute fellowship, and blasting the alto flute part on the Rite of Spring, David Zinman conducting.

David Zinman recently and abruptly quit, although it was brewing slowly like the orgasmic cadence in Tristan's Prelude. The festival was recently shortened for a week, the CEO fired and rehired, faculty cuts and disagreements as fundraising goals were missed and tensions arose out of financial concerns. This is not unique to the Aspen Music Festival (pause) and School, but rather general economic difficulties that plague almost all arts non-profits. What would Michael Kaiser say to this? How would he handle it.

I think we are all watching to see what Alan Fletcher, the president and CEO will do. Or is he perhaps the next in line to go elsewhere. Most non-profits are revolving doors, although I remember Aspen being quite stable during my time from 1997-2001. Whether it was Dean Hal's presence and his dog Copland, I am thrilled that I was given the opportunity to experience Aspen.

So, who will follow David Zinman? Any guesses?

More info here: http://artsbeat.blogs.nytimes.com/2010/04/09/aspen-festival-music-director-quits/

Pictures:

1. Flute studio with Nadine Asin and Murry Sidlin after a performance of Steve Reich's Vermont Counterpoint for way too many flutes, piccolos and altos.

2. My first catered lunch at Martha Aarons masterclass.

3. A drive to independence pass with roommates, sushi chef from Takasushi and friends.

4. Martha Aarons and I after a ridiculous performance of Prokofiev's Classical Symphony

5. Flute section with Mark Sparks after honking the hell out of Bartok's Miraculous Mandarin.

Making Contemporary Music Relevant

2010-04-04T03:07:00.000-07:00

Have we lost our way? Have the arts become so esoteric in artists' efforts to find a new voice that we no longer have an access point? Has artistic and aesthetic language expanded so much that one needs a deciphering dictionary to have a chance at relating?

The answer is no. A big resounding no. But a a hint, a lending hand, and a tour guide is definitely helpful. Anthony Brandt, a composer with Musiqa, explains that art is progressing, but its direction cannot be foreshadowed. Unlike technology where there may be some directed research, in the arts, if it can be imagined now, there is nothing stopping from realizing it now. It's an interesting comparison. Perhaps in certain circumstances the expectation of new technology can open more tools of expression. But it does seem that foretelling artistic direction seems futile.

In the short time that I have been exposed to Musiqa's concerts, I have appreciated their ability to bridge a formal concert experience with an informal salon setting. With the addition of comfortable and personal introductions, contemporary music changes from the wrongfully given cold, intellectual and incomprehensible reputation to energetic, accessible, and dare I say cool and trendy? Music by dead composers is so yesterday. Add some delicacies by Monica Pope's Plum Catering and I am sold.

"Imaginary Scenes" presented a well balanced program of Music by Musiqa composers Rob Smith, Karim Al-Zand, as well as Stockhausen, Wynton Marsalis, Hamza el Din choreographed by Houston Ballet's own Stanton Welch.

Rob Smith's Hot Seat (1997) balanced a sense of danger from wild and unpredictable syncopations, sexy interrupted burlesque jazz and flowing transparent liquid imagery. Karim Al-Zand's Imaginary Scenes (2005) presented four thematically and compositionally cohesive pieces in somewhat symphonic form. Sonorities are pseudo drunk impressionist. If the love child of Debussy and Ravel married Francaix then developed a drinking problem and Freudian psychosis, it would explain the light smirky and, at times, somewhat twisted affect.

For those that do not think musical performance is an athletic feat, Stockhausen's The Little Harlequin (1975) left me breathless. The demands placed on clarinetist Carlos Cordeiro near implausibility with the inclusion of rhythmical foot stomps, jumps, twirls, yoga tree poses and constant movement while executing virtuosic passages that reach beyond most people's concept of the clarinet's higher range.

Collaborating with Houston Ballet II, Stanton Welch choreographed the only notated movement of Hamza El Din's Fingerprints (1971). Originally for the oud (arabic lute), El Din transcribed it for the Kronos Quartet and tar, a single-headed frame drum from North Africa and the Middle East. Satisfying my love for ethnic music and exotic sonorities, the effect was tantalizing and hypnotic. Coupled dancers appeared and disappeared seamlessly with flowing and somewhat stylized movement that echoed the music's strength. The zebra print fluid skirts magnified and intensified the physical movements, adding a natural and almost supernatural element. The costumes by London based designer Kandis Cook allowed dancers to unify creating pseudo mythological imagery.

If you missed this, it's your loss.

Picture: Stanton Welch answering a questions about the costumes (they were NOT skirts). From right to left: Karim Al-Zand, Rob Smith and Anthony Brandt.

Once Upon a time...Our Late Night

2010-04-01T08:45:00.000-07:00

Once upon a time, it was the dawn of time, it was a dark and stormy night, it was the best of times, it was the worst of times, and call me Ishmael are amidst the most well known opening lines. Although most of them are tired clichés that give most middle school teachers heart burn, we can't help be drawn to them. Perhaps Our Late Night can be in a similar category as the start of a series of pseudo implausible stories that we tell in order to sensationalize our evening and elevate our social butterfly insanity status in front of friends and colleagues. Why the need to do that? I am sure that is entrenched and pre-programmed not unlike wanting to kill father and sleep with mother.

It is difficult to categorize and criticize Catastrophic Theatre's productions, but one surely can react to them. I am always up for a program that warns that it is "recommended for brave audiences with strong constitutions." Anything that keeps me thinking, laughing and saying what the fuck the next morning has certainly met the goal of challenging and expanding my aesthetic and cultural experiential vocabulary.

Wallace Shawn, as an actor, is perhaps better known for awkward dorky roles such as love challenged Mr. Hall in Clueless. But as a playwright, his work is dark, sexually and politically charged with a dash of controversy. From Shawn's perspective, Our Late Night explores the necessity of dreams and the differences between daytime (as influenced by aesthetic objects) and nighttime slumber.

We all have had somewhat surreal evenings where perhaps due to our own idiosyncrasies sprinkled with chemicals have led to bizarre situations, or perhaps, bizarre recollection of the situations. Our Late Night hones in and out of cohesive and broken conversations between seven colorful characters. At times we connect, at times we laugh at the ridiculousness, at times we feel uncomfortable and creepy, like intruding in what should be private moments: Voyeurism. Seems like that is the theme du jour.

Are we all really that dark but afraid to blurt out our inner most fetishes and fantasies? I could almost compare Our Late Night to the intersection of German expressionism, Magritte-esque sexual surrealism with a hint of freudian psychosis. At any rate, Catastrophic Theater lives up to their reputation, "we will destroy you."

Highly recommended. You may never think of jelly, the tropics, and feathers in the same fashion again. Playing through April 3rd at Diverseworks.

Once upon a time...there was a flute

2010-03-31T04:19:00.000-07:00

The flute, in any of its versions, holds a unique place in cultural, folkloric and mythological traditions and history. Yes, the flute is special. May I dare say much more so than any other instrument? Perhaps the drum comes close. The Indians have the bansuri (Krishna apparently was a virtuoso), the Chinese have the "di", Japanese have the shakuhachi, the Armenians have the sring, the Irish fife, the Incan quena, nose flutes, the ney, xiao, kaval, danso, anasazi, zampoña, ocarina, and the biggest of all, yes, the organ.

Meeting a Native American flute maker at the Bayou City Arts Festival opened up my eyes to the cool history and aesthetic associations of the instrument, both in terms of the western concert flute and others.

I am reminded of the delicious, sensual and smokey opening of Debussy's Prélude à l'après-midi d-un faune, where the flute exposes a sense of eroticism mirroring the Stephane Mallarme poem, its main inspiration. It describes a faun's encounters with water nymphs in a pseudo-dreamlike state after waking up from his afternoon slumber (pictured left is Manet's depiction of the faune). The exotic chromaticism of Ravel's Daphnis et Chloé ravishing flute solo awakens the memory of Pan (god of shepherd, flocks, mountain wilds, hunting and rustic music) who made a flute out of reeds to commemorate his love for Syrinx (a nymph known for her chastity) who was transformed into hollow water reeds that made a haunting sound to avoid him. The name of the pan flute is derived from this story. The tale is deliciously hot. At any rate, is it time for a cigarette?

And then there's Syrinx, the solo flute piece by Debussy, based on Pan's sadness for losing his love. Death. Tragedy. Passion. Another cigarette. Add a martini.

Popular in the baroque period and largely ignored in romanticism other than a few Brahms solos in his first and fourth symphony and a Schubert tour the force (yes and some other horribly cheesy theme and variations), my talk with Gillermo Martinze made me think about the special attributes that would allow the flute to make a comeback and become a favorite among impressionist and post-impressionist composers. Guillermo Martinez reminded me about one more trait: spirituality and the supernatural.

I am not referring to Mozart's Die Zauberflöte or Gluck's Orfeo ed Euridice but rather legends of its origins. Native American culture links the flute to the spirit world and has, just as many cultures have their own creation story, many legends that give its birth a supernatural element. To read a few, click here. Whether the impressionists were aware of this at a conscious or unconscious level is of no concern to me, but rather justification for using it to carry this type of symbolism.

Gillermo's flutes themselves bridge the craft of instrument making with spiritual and artful elements. Inspired by dreams and visions, Gillermo incorporates the horse in this gorgeous creation. The horse symbol is widespread through many cultures as the emblem of the life force and is assigned the attributes of the four elements: Earth, Fire, Air and Water. In Native American culture specifically, it combines the grounded power of the Earth with the whispers of wisdom found in the spirit winds. The horse is a honored helper and messenger. It harbors spirit knowledge and is considered an wild emblem of freedom. There is mutual respect, awareness, and responsibility when man enters into a silent contract with the animal.

I love when instrument making goes beyond craft. To learn more about Gillermo and his flutes, visit http://www.quetzalcoatlmusic.org/.

Thinking about Bars, in Bars, and through Bars

2010-03-16T16:25:00.001-07:00

Whether you believe in green beer or a pint of Guinness, St. Patrick's day is celebrated by the Irish to remember their patron saint. The philosophy? Eat, drink, and be merry. It's festive, I dig it, although I am not much of a drinker these days. The only thing that could make it better, is art.

The concept of art in bars is not by any means new. Art and wine pair beautifully together, and slight inebriation eases collectors wallets to enhance their private collection. This has expanded into a trend where some progressive bars showcase art work to show collaboration with the local scene, use it as PR strategy, as well as donate a portion of their tabs towards an artist or non-profit. Think about it. It's plain brilliant. Some people do not want to go to a gallery per se, but a brew is always a welcome companion.

Let's think about our own experiences in bars. Typically, we arrive at the conclusion to visit one for a variety of reasons: we are meeting a friend for a simple chat, or a group for raucous sinful fun, we need to get drunk and forget, looking to people watch, therapy session with the bar tender, and other less honorable activities. But we never directly look for drama, although sometimes, drama finds us. Unexpectedly. Sometimes the appearance of alcohol lowers our inhibitions and inadvertently we are drama.

Horse Head Theater production of Stephen Belber's Fault Lines shows us that our perception of the strength of our relationships may be confused. What appears to be solid ground may indeed start shifting, at first unnoticeably, then forcefully until we are forced to make a choice. What begins as an innocent meeting between two friends to rekindle a friendship turns into a test of character, morality, trust, loyalty, and love. Although this are things we readily do not associate with bar scenes, digging deep into my past, I can see where all of these have been tested, at one level or another.

As you celebrate tonight, try not to be the drama. But I would encourage you to check out Horse Head Theater's Fault Lines. And get one of their cool mugs.

Animals and Things that Stick

2010-03-14T11:17:00.000-07:00

Sometimes unexpected things haunt your memory. Perhaps an experience, a look, a traumatic or joyful event, and sometimes something banal. As I go through the weekend overwhelmed at the boundless events in such a limited amount of time, I explore what sticks and what is fleeting.

I can't help put a marketing hat on. From a for-profit basis, we are constantly researching the creation of products and marketing strategies to create a "purple cow." Seth Godin describes purple cow as a remarkable product with a remarkable marketing strategy. Something, that people want, that communicates, and sticks out. So when something sticks, I want to question: why?

Interestingly, in researching the origin, I came across "Purple Cow: Reflections on a Mythic Beast Who's Quite Remarkable, at Least", a well known poem by Gelett Burgess written in 1895. Although it is best to leave this more as a humorous little rhyme, according to the title, it is better to be anything than boring.

I never saw a purple cow;
I never hope to see one;
but I can tell you anyhow;
I'd rather see than be one!

In regards to art, I am reminded of Michael Kaiser's strategy: exception art + creative marketing strategies = successful fundraising. Quite similar in message, different in level of sophistication.

So why does my memory commits to Allison Hunter's Zoosphere on display at Diverseworks? Purple cow? Well not that literal, but certainly trumpeting elephants, birds in flight, herding zebras, barking sea lions, a giant toad, and an unidentifiable peeping tom-esque eye come to mind. A quick tour: http://www.allisonhunter.com/Art/zoosphere.html.

Hunter shifts my paradigm. In an urban environment, we often recognize animals as exhibits and forget that indeed, they have an essential place in our natural world. Threatened with extinction, awareness of these species does not infiltrate our everyday. In this engaging active space, Hunter video installation challenges us to rethink our relationship with them by transferring to an aesthetic venue. Is there meaning in their movements? Is there sublime beauty in the frogs movement? Can animals truly be part of the aesthetic experience? How would the world change without their existence?

The eye of this unidentified animal, although I speculate is a turtle or some sort of a reptile, shifts the players. Are we watching them, or are we the exhibit? More importantly, are we being judged?

All rather big questions that lead us to think about eco subjects and revaluate our responsibility to them. As a species, we have taken control over a almost all natural elements, and our human footprint in the world is rather destructive. I am forced to think about the environmental forces that are omniscient, omnipresent, and omnipotent at some level. At some point, are we worried that these will take over? I believe we all agree that there are many examples of that already in progress.

So that is what sticks. On display until April 17, 2010.

How much time can a single image represent?

2010-03-12T21:10:00.001-08:00

I have always known this, but it is nice to be able to verbalize it and put it out there. Similar to the mantra that admitting something is the first step to recovery, I have been made aware that accessible art (in my own aesthetic language and experience) is just boring and I most likely will not be interested in it. Accessibility is a personal continuum. In essence, if I can figure it out quickly, it is as interesting as a shiny object: it can only hold my attention for a short period of time.

Perhaps thats one of the reasons why banal comedy holds my interest for all but two seconds. After the initial chuckle, I am done. So, what are the things that are able to hold my attention? That which allows for an experience (aesthetic), a thought (academic), and engages me in narrative.

Today was a fun day of art and aesthetic exploration. Looking at 18th Century works of Benjamin West, John Singleton Copley, and Jonathan Trumbull at the Museum of Fine Arts, Houston, I explored different genres from the highly regarded historical paintings, portraits, the "lower brow" landscapes, most of which explore narrative and character development. The portraits hold clues that tells a story about a person. Historical depictions capture a turning point in socio-political development, while dramatic landscapes evoke a sense of awe. The seascapes of William Turner (pictured above Sheerness as seen from the Nore, 1808), for example, explore the sublime which in "aesthetics, the sublime (from the Latin sublimis ([looking up from] under the lintel, high, lofty, elevated, exalted) is the quality of greatness or vast magnitude, whether physical, moral, intellectual, metaphysical, aesthetic, spiritual or artistic. The term especially refers to a greatness with which nothing else can be compared and which is beyond all possibility of calculation, measurement or imitation." However, I do believe this greatness is fleeting. Once we are exposed to something aesthetic, it has the power to loose its power. I call this a sublime aesthetic orgasm. We look for more.

Ever notice that the words sublime (elevated) and subliminal (unnoticed, below the surface) are related? One theory states it has to do with a threshold after which our response is unexpected and uncontrollable, whether aware or unaware. I diverge. Tangents are fun.

Most of these 18th century works employ and suggest narrative by what is included around the subject. Sometimes, they even imply different stages of the linear story line. I encountered an artist at Lawndale Art Center that attempts to do the exact opposite: juxtaposing time and narrative to create an interesting aesthetic image that attains what the artist affectionately calls gorgeousness. Chuck Ivy (pictured below Untitled Film Composite #24 from Tapeheads, 2009) questions "How much time can a single image represent?" The key to his questions lies in the semantics. He is not interested in the narrative aspect, but rather the passage of time's ability to create something sublime.

We are wired to find narrative in things. The challenge here is too look at the images without attempting to attach narrative values, but rather appreciate the abstract colors, shapes, composition, and depth.

Chuck Ivy's collection at Lawndale in partnership with Dan Havel "Dirty Secrets from the Cataract Cinema" is breathtaking, challenging, not readily accessible and holds my attention for a long time. Worth taking the time to explore.

Links:

Lawndale Art Center

Museum of Fine Arts, Houston

Chuck Ivy

Big Questions and Inner Dialogue

2010-03-08T20:37:00.000-08:00

Yes. I talk to myself. Sometimes little harmless conversations that may have to do with strange behavioral idiosyncrasies, others with big unanswerable (and somewhat pointless) existential content. Or not.

After a company event at L'Auberge du Lac where I miserably failed at gambling, I returned rushed to Midtown to catch Mildred's Umbrella Theater's production "Flu Season." Enjoying a breakfast of champions consisting of bloody mary's and crown and coke on our way there, I sobered up in the "buffat" and took a slight nap on the way back. A day like this makes internal dialogue so much more active as you go through different stages of psychosis. Excitement. Alcohol. Munchies. Cigarettes. Junk Food. Water. Nap. Sickness. Theater. Home. Dog.

Maybe it was this heterogenous roller coaster that put me in such a contemplative state to make "Flu Season" so exceptionally effective, or perhaps it was just fucking awesome. At any rate, it dealt with a similar range of dialogues: internal, external, connected and disjunct. Yes people do experience joy in winter and some do get cancer in a bright summer day. Life is not full of pathetic fallacy where winter is always the season of death while summer is cheerfully happy. If you'd live in Houston for one season cycle, you'd know this intimately.

"Flu Season" is about a lot of things, including playwriting, interpretation of events, failing positivity, hope and the inevitability of falling into darkness. It tells a linear story of a man and a woman falling in and out of love in Crossroads, a psychiatric facility, with asides from non-participating characters. Do you remember a moment in your life that changed the course of your history? You will be challenged with rather large questions like this or rather funny ironies like questioning whether two people can be alone.

I have always enjoyed the casual nature of Mildred's ambiance and the professionalism of their productions. Grab a beer and enjoy. You'll have just a few more days to catch this. More info here:

Picture above: set of Flu Season. Although I have to admit, I spent some time figuring out how these tetris-esque graphics fit together, it also made me think as to the disjunct and seemingly complicated and unpredictable pieces and somehow fit to make us psychologically whole.

PETA Conspires with Bengal Tiger to Eliminate Complete Indian Village

2010-03-06T10:03:00.000-08:00

Humor me. It's late and I am under the narcoleptic haze (a la Bayadere style) of french fries dipped in hummus.

I am seriously thinking that Houston Ballet's La Bayadere, aka the Temple Dancer is a huge conspiracy similar to the terrorist methods of a suicide bomber as they try to annihilate a group of people. PETA, I believe, talked a Bengal tiger, let's call him Tony, into sacrificing himself in order to create a chaotic love polygon ending in the destruction of the the main temple in mythic India, killing everyone. Somehow, the snake got jealous and had to participate in the demise of mythic Indians (which by the way were wearing delicious costumes). How original sin-esque.

PETA was counting on people's stupid naivete regarding such a ridiculous false feeling of falling in "love" like it is ever perfect. They weren't counting on the high rate of divorce, the hours of counseling needed to work out why don't you take out the garbage and you spent how much type of issues. If they knew what their therapist and botox treatments would cost (thanks to stress wrinkles), they would have happily accepted the Tony as a pet and moved on.

Somehow, ballet makes falling in love magical. Being swept off your feet takes on a more literal meaning.

I love going to the ballet. But I have to admit, last night's experience was a deliciously strange combination of fast narrative, feature numbers within the story line, and some that really added nothing to story development except artistic and aesthetic eye/soul candy. And lots of piccolo. Lots and lots of stereotypical cutely annoying piccolo playing in what should have been the afterlife or Kingdom of Shades.

Moral of the story, don't kill a Bengal tiger or all everyone will end up dead. And PETA didn't count on afterlife reunions. So at the end, the guy gets the girl, and the girl gets the guy.

Photo: Ballet La Bayadère. Dancer: Melody Herrera and Connor Walsh. Choreographer: Stanton Welch. Photo: Pam Francis.

Experimenting with Public Naughtiness

2010-01-22T19:51:00.000-08:00

Like the force, we have a light side and a dark side. I believe even the most righteous people often have unpure thoughts and if we have learned anything from Catholicism, we are all sinners and will spend our lives routinely in confession. For jews, it is once a year. We figure, let the sins accumulate and do one massive fasting forgiveness orgy (followed by honey cake and chinese buffet) and hope for forgiveness, because if not, you die. Well, you are not written in the book of life, which by process of elimination means you are done.

So, I am confessing on my behalf and on yours. We are obsessed with other people. We can't help it as it is part of our anthropological disposition. History, in a nut shell, is about linking the past to the present through the actions of what sometimes feels like fictional characters. Our raison d'etre can be explained by looking back. However, what we are taught are the major accomplishments, the quotes, the speeches, the discoveries, the product that somehow guided history this way and that.

But behind all these seemingly great events, there are regular people that eat, sleep, and yes go to the bathroom, release gas, pick their nose, and have physical and emotional idiosyncrasies that usual escape our study, unless they happen to be interesting in their own right. For example, Beethoven loosing hearing towards his later years in life, or Napoleon having a complex, of perhaps Einstein failing mathematics. But can you imagine Marie Antoinette going number 2?

It is true that for most of our lives, we interact with a myriad of people, most of which present just a facade at some degree. There are private moments that we never get to see, learn and experience, and we are relieved that most do not get to share our private, intimate, and perhaps somewhat embarrassing moments. Did you ever loose yourself playing air guitar or conducting a rambunctious movement of a Shostakovich Symphony? Or perhaps slobber, snore, and say horribly inappropriate things in your sleep? Maybe you like you pick your ear and smell the wax?

Diverseworks presented the US premiere of Voyeur, the latest performance installation by Australian-based Company Clare Dyson that explores notions of intimacy, desire, and the act of revealing. Thought-provoking, it made me explore how many private moments exist in our lives, what it would feel to be watched, and how we respond when watching others. At times forbidden, erotic, naughty, tender, and sometimes hilarious, we walked into a world of the unknown, where we had a chance to explore this curiosity, with permission from the artists, but acknowledging our curiosity with the other 30 or so folks in the active audience.

The work presented took the following form: on stage, a closed performance spaced was created with drywall. Holes of different sizes, shapes, and heights were placed strategically around the space. You were given the option of where to watch, move around and change perspectives. There were also monoculars, as well headphones to "hear" the dancers thoughts, one for the male another female. To see a video, visit http://www.dysonindustries.com.au/performance/voyeur/film.html

Here, we truly explore the banal of the everyday, while intruding into the space and choosing our point of view, exposing the vulnerability of the artist, and exploring our own taboo for engaging in voyeurism in plain view of others doing the same thing. As much as we watch the artists, we also notice other eyes prying out of other peepholes, creating a humbling and accepting experience. We connect, we are being seen, without identifying ourselves.

I leave with many questions after exploring a taboo that I had not experienced before. I have the sense that I want to smile, and take a shower at the same time. Yes, we all have a dark side. We just have to be brave and open enough to admit it.

The 64 Million Dollar Question

2010-01-07T08:01:00.000-08:00

It is much easier to understand the evolution (if one can call it that) of artistic movements in retrospect. Evolution is perhaps not the right noun as it implies that to evolve means to develop and to get better. To claim that one artistic movement is better than another is not only unfair, it is just plain nonsensical (although naturally, we can be drawn to one over another). I find it particularly successful to examine this as it relates to visual art. From experimentation of perspective, to the discovery of orthogonal lines, foreshortening, trompe l'oeil, realism, baroque, impressionism, cubism, fauvism, suprematism, abstraction, etc. I have left quite a few out in the interest of simplicity, but one can certainly deduce that in visual art, the general movement has been from figurative to abstract.

The definition of what is art becomes more difficult today. In an age where everything goes, how does one distinguish between art, things that have artistic merit or artifacts, or things that appeal to our aesthetic judgement? It is easier to ask this question having a little background of where we have been, where we are, and indulging in the temptation to hypothesize where we are going.

I recently read in another blog the notion that opera Da Capo arias (basically, musical form where the first part is a complete musical form, the second contrasting, followed by a repeat of the first) are somewhat not received well due to their redundant nature as they do not further the plot. They just repeat and depend on the agility and artistic ingenuity of the performer to embellish the repeated first section. Audiences would have been able to identify the improvisational quality and be satisfied with the ingenuity and novelty. Today, the style may seem antiquated, as the novelty does not have the same impact. We are exposed to more and unless performed with the highest artistic merit, it does little for us. We are desensitized.

Look at the content of popular programming. It follows the same pattern. Novelty lessens the efficacy of older programs. The amount and degree of profanity, violence, indecency increases, allowing these to become less shocking and acceptable in our modern vernacular.

In general, audiences have trouble with contemporary music questioning what makes it music, more so, what makes it art music. But I'd argue that although earlier music styles like classical, baroque, and romantic periods are easily identified as art music, most will have difficulty explaining why and appreciate and understand its context.

In a Musiqa (Houston based non-profit committed to presenting contemporary art music) performance tonight, I appreciated the composers vulnerability to explain their works and allow for a Q and A post performance. I asked what composer Anthony Brandt labelled as the 64 Million dollar question: where are we in art today and is it fair to ask to forsee the future of classical music?

I received one of the best answers. Unlike technology where progress is somewhat predictable (although the effect may not be), if one can think of it today, it can be done today. If I can predict what can be done tomorrow, there is no reason why it cannot or would not be done today. Meaning, predicting the direction of art movements is an impossibility.

Art movements have always carried some sort of tradition from the past while at the same time rejecting another. In a time of extreme artistic clutter, confusion, and overwhelming variety, would it be fair to predict a rejection to a neo-simplistic period of easily identifiable styles in easily recognizable formats? Has the pendulum swung so far one way and it is inevitable to swing back the other?

Recognizing Art

2009-12-13T10:35:00.000-08:00

We are the last and only surviving members of the genus Homo. Homo Sapiens or "wise men" refers to humans, but only those that have a highly developed brain, capable of abstract reasoning, language, introspection and problem solving. I consider myself one, in more ways that one.

We like to put labels on things: this is my handle, this is my spout. When get tired of directly labeling, we use comparisons. When we feel the need to go beyond the explicit and implicit comparisons into the poetic, we enter the subjective realm of metaphors. Art exists somewhere in between this continuum. In between the extreme and narrow direct representation labeling, to the highly abstract, non-figurative and symbolic, we have the ability to find an access point into the work. Some works cover more of the continuum which allows for diverse entry points and open different interpretation tangents, where others are much more narrow, offering limited paths of discourse. More so, I find the extremes of this continuum are much more difficult to access aesthetically, and our response becomes more logical, directed, and intellectual.

Defining art is nearly impossible. The artistic fields are no longer clearly defined. The classical arts made it easier for us to distinguish theater, music, visual, and dance. Things that have artistic merit but did not fall into these categorizes are a kind of art: cultural artifacts. Cross-discipline artists, technology, globalization and exponential communication mediums have expanded the realm and continue to challenge the art compass. At the same time, the labels continue to be created as our drive to classify and arrange our world into neat compartments remains a part of our anthropological make-up.

So unless these works are shown to us in context which can easily be recognized as artistic works (i.e. a gallery, museum, performance, etc.), sometimes it can really be difficult to recognize art. The last art essay discussion group at the Contemporary Arts Museum Houston, we dove right into the intersection of science in, about and through art. This is not a new concept. I am a believer that cultural contexts always show up in artists genres, so whatever happens to be in the forefront of anthropological development will make an appearance.

We can use science as a tool (as in computer music), as a vehicle (as in photography or film) or as a topic. One could argue that science has always been used as a tool in the creation of instruments (in seeking the most resonant sound and stable scales) and paint (creating colors hues, and textures). Da Vinci's Vitruvian man attempts to explain classical architectural proportions through the canon of proportions. Although some may argue that this is an example of blend between art and science, one could question where this is an illustration for explanation purposes. Artistic merit, or artistic components does not equate to a work of art. For example, I think we could all agree that a toilet bowl cleaner designed by Michael Graves, as pretty as it can be, would not enter the realm of art, unless it was displayed in a box in a museum somewhere.

A retinal exam can produce such gorgeous images that could be confused for art without any further need for manipulation.

Images of the Hubble telescope are fantastic and appear to be beyond the realm of most people's realities, that can explicitly provoke an aesthetic response beyond its documentary and illustrative purposes.

In the discussion group, a participant explained: "if you do something so well that it pushes the envelop of that field, it becomes artistic and can be considered art." I think this measure can be applied sometimes. I recall a discussion on the topic of culinary arts. Some chefs employ such virtuosic techniques in their craft, that combining the presentation with preparation techniques can present something so spectacular and unexpected that it transcends craft. Can cooking then become a performing art of some sort? An interaction between artist and audience where the consumer becomes a performer?

So, does art then become about the original intent of the work? Seems like this would be a natural place to start: the origins. After all, since we always seem to be fascinated with stories, histories and where things came from, it would be logical to conclude that to recognize art you have to look at the intent at the starting point. But that is not always accessible, existent, and practical.

Perhaps that is a reason why there is such diverse art discourse.

Lost in Translation

2009-11-21T07:41:00.000-08:00

Globalization is a word that has been around for longer than most people think. Although the origins of the word date back to the late 19th Century, the concept globalization in terms of socio-economic development entered our vernacular in the 1960s.

One can think of the earlier globalization in antiquity as cultures and empires expanded and contracted. Hellenic travels introduced Asian countries to wine, the Silk Road connected East and West, and Christopher Columbus brought the Old World in to the new. Today, living in exponential times, we are faced with perplexing dilemmas. The problems of the future are unknown.

Globalization has also entered the art world. Again, this concept is not new. Puccini's Turandot uses Chinese folklore and traditional sonorities (Orientalism), Dvorak New World is laden with sonorities of Native American melodies, longing for the past with excitement for the future.

I attended the opening of "Your Bright Future: 12 Contemporary Artists form Korea" at the Museum of Fine Arts, Houston. Pictured here is Bahc Yiso's, died in 2004, "Your Bright Future" which themed and named the exhibition. A collection of lamps shining bright light on a white wall, questions the complexity of the excitement of raising stars while juxtaposing a blank wall of nothingness. Is there a future? Is there a bright future? Will it have meaning?

A lecture preceded the opening drinkfest where we learned about the overall concept of Korean state-sponsored art versus the "people." In it, a general commentary of art not necessarily communicating in a one-way direction, but more of an interactive and experiential dialogue. Cultural context was not necessarily needed to participate. Well, of course, this concept is not universal, but I'd argue, impossible to achieve. I do not believe anyone can just eradicate and negate the importance of cultural context. As human beings, we come with histories, contexts, psychological baggage, preset traditions, rebellious tendencies, all which exists within the confines of our own realities.

Billboard art is present in Houston. Whether through the recent works of Karyn Olivier's "Inbound" and now through this exhibit which also extended into this medium. Billboards are interesting. Although their primary function is to broadcast information, noticing "Inbound" is quite strange at first. They are somewhat playful, although some claim surreal, I'd argue the works themselves are not surreal, but the experience and medium are. They represent and mimic exactly what is behind them in an effort to make them disappear.

This exhibit also has some billboards associated with it. Below is one of them. Originally found in Seul Korea, it is now on display facing west overlooking 59 and Rosedale. Here is my dilemma. Upon seeing this, my first reaction: I am of course not the target demographic for this sign. In reality, I am. But unfortunately, it is lost in translation. It actually means we are happy. Given that this was meant for an English speaking country, would it have been appropriate to translate it or to provide a translation? Or is the fact that it is Korean provide us with more information. If so, one cannot take a piece like this outside of its cultural existence.

The concept of globalization is also clear in Do Ho Suh "Fallen Star 1/5". Two cultures collide. A violent crash of a traditional home in Korea with a traditional Rhode Island apartment is a biographical commentary on the artists travels and education. The video does not do justice to the sublime and realistic detail. It's a must see, especially for those of us whose inclination would be to dust off the old Barbie and Ken Doll and play house.

I did not get a chance to spend more time and interact with the work. That will be my intention in the next coming weeks. I encourage you to do the same. More information on the MFAH website.

Coming to Terms with Wagner

2009-11-15T04:59:00.000-08:00

On Friday, at the suggestion of many of my friends and colleagues, I made a commitment via ticket purchase to sit through what I thought would be a long winded, self-important, repetitive and overly psychologically dramatic Wagner opera: Lohengrin. Although I have played a couple, played incidental music, and watched a concert version of Tristan and Isolde, my cultural and musical life had not given me the opportunity to watch a full production. I was a Wagnerian virgin.

Gesamtkunstwerk, we learned in school, is a term used by Wagner to describe the complete work of art: one which sythesizes all the art forms to create the ultimate form of deep expression. So playing incidental music or watching the concert version does not give one proper experiential material to assess Wagner.

I have to admit I had pre-programmed prejudices. Coming from a Jewish background, the topic if Wagner's music was treated as taboo. Hitler saw Wagner's music as an embodiment of the new German regime and nationalistic "pure" ideologies. Wagner's music was not performed in the modern state of Israel until 2001 conducted by Daniel Barenboim. Previous attempts to stage productions were halted by protesters.

In his "Jewishness in Music" essay published in 1850 under a pseudonym, Wagner accused composers Felix Mendelssohn and Giacomo Meyerbeer of being harmful and dangerous to German culture. He claimed Germans were repelled by Jew's appearance and were detached completely to the German spirit. As they were only capable of producing shallow and artificial music, its purpose was to be popular and financial rewarding, and devoid of any aesthetic merit.

As I write this, I realize that I use the third person pronoun "they" to describe Jew's above as a way to separate myself from the gross misguided representation by Wagner above. Freud would have a field that with this I am sure.

We studied Wagner in school. Tristan and Isolde is epic as music theorists and musicologists revere the symbology of the Tristan chord due to its tonic ambiguity, it's perplexing sonority and instrumentation, and it's ability to morph. We learned Tristan and Isolde as a long yearning for resolution work as there isn't a resting point, cadence, or tonal resolution until the end, after which it quickly ends. Like sex our professor explained. Orgasm, you are done. My friends and I had our share of cigarettes following the lecture.

So, I purchased a great seat and I did what I usually do not do. Although I usually like to research the work prior to seeing, I refused to and decided to really watch this purely with virgin ears. From the beginning of the overture to the end, I got it. I understood the fascination. I had the epiphany that my professor was attempting to instill in me back at school: a perfect combination of relatable narrative with enough musical and physical symbology to over talk this over gallons of coffee.

Two days later, I am still perplexed by the performance and I haven't even addressed the HGO production. It's a must see if you can catch the last couple of performances before the run ends. Epic is the best way to describe it. Almost like watching a most sublime and relatable story of found and lost love with middle earth and Grail myths mixed in. The music presented additional information not found on stage. Themes were easily recognizable.

I think I am a convert. I am quite willing to explore Wagner. I actually think I may be enroute to liking and accepting my ability to like Wagner. The guilt to do so will have to be worked on over time.

In this video, Elsa (the wrongly accused damsel in distress) summons a rightful stranger she met a while back.

In this scene, Lohengrin (the wonderful rightful stranger) and Elsa (the wrongfully accused damsel in distress) discuss the proclivities of their arrangement. He would defend her honor and marry her if she never asks his origin, name, and lineage. Deliciously romantic.

Cinema Arts: There is a Difference

2009-11-12T09:54:00.000-08:00

There is a myriad of arts organizations in Houston. Here is a few cool facts:

Fourth largest Museum District in the nation
One of the few cities with major companies in the four disciplines: ballet, opera, symphony, and theater
21,000 arts events annually
The arts supports 14,115 full time jobs in Houston

So when another one is added to our mix, I rejoice in our cities diverse offerings, and get excited at the prospect of learning and being exposed to another range of creative pursuits. Somehow, the addition of a well structured film festival adds yet another badge to our city's diverse offerings: Houston Cinema Arts Society.

The Houston Cinema Arts Society 2009 Cinema Arts Festival Houston offers a wide range of films curated by Richard Herskowitz and goes on until Sunday, November 15th. Click here for the schedule.

Film festivals are sexy. Somehow, I have the perception that people are more open to experimental films than they are about today's art music, visual or performance art. Film enjoys a unique place in that it is usually introduced as popular, then our taste usually develops into the more artistic genres. I took sometime yesterday to preview Houston Cinema Arts Society H BOX. A portable screening room by Portuguese/French architect Faustine Didier Fiuza Faustino, it is currently stationed until the end of the festival on November 15 in the Alabama Theater on Shepherd and Alabama.

The H BOX is beyond cool. A small room with mini bean bags, it plays a rotating diverse offering of shorts ranging from 2 to 14 minutes ranging from quirky, symbolic, to strong commentary on sociopolitical ideologies. A great place to get comfy and chat with those around you. Amidst my favorite ones was a short by Yael Bartana that deals with post WWII Poland economic and social demographic make-up.

Yesterday, I attended their grand opening reception at the Museum of Fine Arts, Houston where we viewed "Me and Orson Welles" by Houston filmmaker Richard Linklater, starring Zac Efron (from High School Musical) amidst an incredible cast of UK artists. Hearing Richard speak really reminds us that there is a very big difference between movies and cinema art. The best line I can remember (not 100% accurate I am sure):

Wealth. Travel. Fame. I can take you to movies that have all that.

Also, Linklater redefines "quadruple space." You know, to enable writers to publish their novels, romantic scenes end with. And they went to bed. Quadruple space.

There are amazing film resources in Houston that allow Houstonians to explore film all year long. Aurora Picture Show has an amazing collection of film, video and media with screenings all year long. SWAMP (South West Alternative Media Project) promotes regional film and video since 1977.

Film is sexy. Art is sexy, and most importantly, supporting local arts organizations is beyond hot. Take part. Be Current.

Dialoguing with Retablos at Lawndale

2009-10-29T04:52:00.000-07:00

Epiphany 37 about why I love art - I always learn something about the work, about the artist, and about myself. In a world where anything goes, it is an impossible task to define what good art should do. Technology, globalization and the proliferation of performance art has pushed boundaries of the classical beux arts and continues to challenge our own definition. The line is thin and quite subjective.

I still to this day prefer the aesthetic definition of art. I seek connection, meaning, an experience outside my everyday, and a challenge to the status quo. Its quite interesting to have a conversation with a work and heighten your understanding and interpretive abilities. Retablos beg for that conversation. Retablos are small devotional folk paintings most often on tin that traditionally use iconography derived from Catholicism. They traditionally have a narrative quality, often telling a story of hardship and survival with a message of thanks to the sacred entity or saint that help them overcome it: a direct communication between people and the divine.

Lawndale Art Center is currently presenting a huge collection of contemporary retablos by Texas artists and they vary greatly in medium, style, content and purpose. As I walked around the exhibition you are begged to stop and hear the story of them, almost like a room full of interesting people waiting to be heard and discovered. They are all very accessible, using a wide variety of materials and entry points.

Some use humor, and some a combination of recognizable religious icons with a twist. This retablo by Georgia Redonet titled Yes We Can, made me chuckle as it entertained me in so many levels. Although the obvious Obama parallel is unremarkable, the coupling with the symbolism of the laughing buddha, popular folklore maintains that rubbing his belly brings wealth, good luck, and prosperity. The green background to me suggests a grounding in natural elements, while enlightenment comes from a balance of earthly gifts and divine intervention. Prosperity and environmentalism do not have to be equally exclusive. I wonder what the character below the buddha represents? Perhaps an entry point for mindful wondering or a missed opportunity to connect.

Jo Zider's Too Many Lies; So Little Taste brings together religious connotations, humor, and perhaps a touch of sexuality. Often people consider the tongue as the "strongest' muscle in the human body due to speech. It is used to communicate, nourishment and physical pleasure. Personally, I recalled horrific images of my grandmother's favorite dish at Friday night dinner's: Beef tongue. Zider's arrangement of an overcrowding number of tongues would suggest a commentary on the prevalence of dishonesty while dismissing the psychological and nutritional nourishment that properly used tongues can accomplish. Makes one think of white lies that often are told to escape awkwardness, often to complicate situations to an exponential degree. The composition is highly unique, although it did make me think about the Rolling Stones iconic tongue as well.

This retablo is unmistakably a riot. Tequila is synonymous with the ultimate party drink and shot. Teresa Rubino's Vivir la buena vida despues de (live the good life after...) leaves us with an open ended suggestion as to what we are to accomplish before we live a good life. Although my first thought was a strong message of a suggestion to seize life, it can also be inferred that careless narcissist-like partying can lead to death and a shortened life. The skeleton reaching for an empy glass and a closed full tequila bottle could also identify a missed opportunity for enjoyment as well. At any rate, the use of complimentary colors, blue and red-rust gives it a pleasing, bold and joyful appearance.

This are three of hundreds of retablos worth stopping and searching for that inner dialogue. Part of their 22nd Dia de los Muertos series programs, Lawndale Art Center will have these up until November 7th. Check them out.

Lawndale Art Center
4912 Main Street
Houston, Texas 77002
713.528.5858

A Song Without Words

2009-10-27T05:46:00.000-07:00

Waking up. One eye open, another half closed. I am attempting to wake up after a late and emotionally charged evening. I need to be up and going in a few minutes as I have an important meeting to learn about new laws and guidelines regarding title company and closing statements. I attended last night the touring show of So You Think You Can Dance, and it made me think about that often conventional communication hinders our ability to share the core and essence of messages. It has severe limits.

The concept is embodied beautifully in Felix Mendelssohn (1809-1847) "Song Withouth Words." In his words: "What the music I love expresses to me, is not thought too indefinite to put into words, but on the contrary, too definite." These short romantic pieces had the distinct responsibility of carrying a message so precise, it could only be shared through artistic mediums. Although initially they were not given much importance as the music itself is within the grasp of amateur pianists, the idea that music transcends words in accuracy makes one stop and think.

Sometimes we find sublime in the most unexpected of places. I do have to admit that I initially thought of So You Think You Can Dance with a discerning eye, aligning it closely with artistic prostitution. But taking a step back, often today's celebrities are talentless and are known strictly for dramatic and controversial events in their lives. How wonderful is it that ballet, contemporary, broadway (and a myriad styles of other dancers) get a chance to showcase their abilities, earn and retain celebrity status.

There was one dance that made me understand a difficult issue that some people close to me face: addiction. Whether physical, emotional, psychological, or chemical, it is often something that those who are lucky enough not to have struggled with it can find it hard to relate, understand, and sympathize. Having witnessed this within 10 feet from the stage allowed me to understand that amazing dance looks effortless and completely natural. Having the ability to look directly at the dancer's eyes and facial expressions added to the connection. I did not have to seek for meaning. It was clear, precise, and went beyond words and conventional communication.

It seems that lately, I have had many conversations about meaning. I have seen a couple of works that puzzled me and challenged me to connect and find meaning. Some made me think, others left me unfulfilled. I have come to the conclusion that if that happens, if a connection is not made, if meaning is clouded, then the aesthetic and art experience has failed.

Things that Disappear

2009-10-26T10:29:00.000-07:00

I have this problem. Often, my mind goes so quickly and is so busy talking to itself that I am often not paying attention to physical things I am doing like where I put my keys, or why I took my computer home but left the charger in my office, or why I put the dog leash inside the half eaten Dorito's bag in the pantry.

It is very easy in the mundane and banal to loose focus and not pay attention to little things. I find this is also the case when I drive a familiar route. I arrive at work without any recollection of what happened between getting my car and looking for my office keys. Sometimes I notice something new. Perhaps a new building, a new restaurant, a new business, road construction, and sometimes a new sign. I10 is a relatively uneventful drive.

However, let's talk about 45 N. A serious case of visual pollution by the overcrowding if billboards, my drive to the airport sometimes is so "screaming loud" and somewhat embarrassing. I often wonder what people's first impressions are of Houston. I have come to love this city, act as a protector of those who bash it.

Inbound: Houston, a project of Karyn Olivier, artist-in-residence at the Cynthia Woods Mitchel Center for the Arts will replace 13 advertising billboards along the city's downtown major highways with urban landscape in an effort to make them disappear. I have to admit, when I saw the photography of the installed billboards, it was almost like a game of where is Waldo. Here is what I mean:

I had the opportunity to hear artist Karyn Olivier at Spacetaker's Artist SPEAKeasy via skype from New York. Her energy was contagious as she told the curious story of how the project was spun to ensure it was not presented as a anti-billboard campaign, but rather as a creative use of an established frame that could be used for other objectives than traditional advertising. Ever been curious as to what is behind these billboards. To track the project, click here for Karyn's blog. Although I am not certain I would call this type of work surrealism, the Douglas Britt's article in the Houston Chronicle explains more.

The project was supposed to be unveiled today, but due to inclement weather, it is now scheduled for tomorrow morning. Would you like to meet the artist? There is a reception an artist talk at Diverseworks from 6-8 pm tonight, Monday, October 26th.

In addition, the Mitchell Center commissioned a soundtrack of original works inspired by the billboards from UH Moores School of Music composers Joel Love and Paul Wadle and recorded by Aura, the school's contemporary ensemble. The works will debut at 7:30 tonight and will be available as a podcast download at KUHF.

As I look at these photographs, I am amazed at the complexity of urban landscape. I have to admit, some took me a while to figure out exactly where the billboard stood. Can you see them?

Finding Stuff to do in Houston

2009-10-18T13:22:00.001-07:00

I make my rounds. I try to see what time will allow me to see. I generally do not discriminate between the art disciplines, although I often tend to enjoy dance performances above all. For me, performing arts requires focus. Visual arts allows me to wonder as generally, the piece won't change while I am swimming in my own sea of unconscious and conscious thought waves and tides. I have come to the conclusion that Houston has incredible creative talent, although sometimes not as visible, I love that social media trends has allowed some of the smaller non-profits and artists to be as visible as some with the largest marketing budgets.

I have to put a plug for two organizations that keep me challenged and continue to introduce me to incredible folks. There are also additional websites I frequent that give me helpful information:

Spacetaker provides artists and small non-profits access to economic, educational and networking opportunities. I often consult the Culture Guide for happenings. I make a point of going to the Artist SPEAKeasy on a monthly basis. Artists have a chance to present informally and dialogue about their work, discourse, and creative processes. Aside from being a fun forum, you also get to meet fantastic personalities that seek similar experiences. To stay current, the Culture Wire will keep you current on what's new and exciting in Houston's arts scene. If you get a chance to meet the folks behind the scenes, you are in for a real treat.

Fresh Arts Coalition is a collaboration of original and thought-provoking arts group and markets the importance of the arts builds audience through increased visibility. The calendar is an impressive listing of their affiliated groups and will help you keep current on what's happening right now. When I show this website to friends, they are often surprised as to how much really happens in Houston. Come on y'all. Houston rocks.

I also like to consult ArtsHound, an online resource for cultural information for the Houston. I am also quite excited about Culture Map, which is supposed to launch in November 2009. A new online "mapzine" I am always on board for new cool ways to distribute information. Recently, Shelby Hodges, society reporter and long time columnist for the Houston Chronicle joined the Culture Map Team. This is HUGE!

Of course, I always directly with the organizations I love. Whether it's the MFAH, CAMH, Opera, Ballet, Symphony, Stages Repertory Theater, and the list goes on and on (so forgive me if I left anyone or anything out). But I am so thankful there are organizations out there that challenge me and keep me current of Houston's wide array of happenings, people, and experiences.

The Moon, Cheese, and the first Sci-Fi Film

2009-10-14T04:58:00.000-07:00

Less is more although I have a good friend that consistently says more is more, and sometimes, I have to agree. Lately, my trend has been to see less, but to spend more actively looking. It's amazing what we can miss just by not noticing or paying attention to what's right in front of us.

So, I have been going back to a small exhibit at the Museum of Fine Arts, Houston, but just doing a couple of rooms at a time in an effort to read, learn and retain. "Houston: Tranquility Base Here. The Eagle Has Landed" opened just a few weeks ago. It is a varied collection of paintings, treatises, photography and installations that trace 500 years of fascination with the moon.

Last time I browsed the exhibit halls, I noticed a flat screen television but had no inclination to sit down and watch the full sequence of what was being shown. This time around I did. I was delighted to learn that what was shown, was considered the first science-fiction film in 1902 by Georges Melies. "Trip to the Moon" is in some ways ridiculously hilarious, in other ways signifies what man has the ability to create in order to explain the unknown. The symbology is thought provoking, but the general theme of man not being able to harmonize with unknown cultures is a theme that is quite applicable and arguably more important today.

Having recently read Dan Brown's lost symbol, I am in a quest to derive, decipher, and perhaps invent meaning in seemingly empty and inanimate objects. This certainly provided food for thought when the rocket lands right in the cheese-like moon's eye: man cannot explore without destroying something in either a large or small scale. On October 9th, Nasa bombed the moon to create a 5 mile crater to seek for water. It has caused some controversy as it violates space law prohibiting environmental modification of celestial bodies. I have not been able to locate follow-up information to see what was found.

The movie is only 10 minutes, has curious music accompaniement. If you are a classical music lover, you will recognize the tunes. I have posted it below

Anna Netrebko in the Target Bathroom Stall

2009-10-08T08:32:00.000-07:00

Although not the sexiest and most eccentric topic, I had a funny experience as I put into action my smart shopper hat and ventured in to Target (where the smart trendy shoppers go) and accompanied the female contingency of my family as they searched for baby clothes.

The phrase "everything happens for a reason" is grossly overused by many that think of themselves as enlightened. I am tired of hearing it. It's cliche, banal, and just plain blah. I think it's time that the new generation comes up with a similar karmic praxis or stop pretending to believe in it all together.

As I decided to take a relief break in the pseudo clean Target facilities, I heard an angelic voice that usually does not make a formal appearance when I am discoursing with myself, as I am incapable of such sublime, transcendental and sinfully delicious imaginary vocalization. Plus it was a woman, and typically the voices in my head tend to me a little more gender ambiguous.

I came to the realization that the sound was coming from my pocket, and in my pocket lay at rest my beloved iPhone. Somehow, I had hit the music button and like the power of the force, it had coincidentally and "randomly" chosen the unmistakable and striking voice of Anna Netrebko, (photo by Esther Haase) a soprano of outstanding purity, "a virtuoso singer of endless versatility smoldering presence and inimitable sound, who happens to be fashion-model gorgeous."

I had just been reading an essay by Nikos Papastergiadis, Professor of Cultural Studies and Media & Communication at the University of Melbourne, on the concept of the everyday. Although not a thesis article but a conversation of the purity of art theory, analysis and works through the eyes of the everyday, it presented a wide continuum of possibility from the idiocies and banalities of everyday life to the boring political correctness, transcendental and academicist aesthetic approaches. In essence, from the seemingly insignificant to the marvelous.

High concept articles always provide for good conversation. At the Contemporary Arts Museum Houston, there is a lovely mix of personalities, experiences, and backgrounds that enrich the communal adventure. Contradictions ruled the essay and the discussion, in search for meaning or a normative approach to three aspects: art theory, analysis, and art creation. The purity of art was in question. If indeed we "consider art from the perspective of the everyday is to stress that the measure of art is not found by borrowing the yardsticks of other discourses, bur rather from its articulation and practices from everyday life." And since the access to "life" is always through language, culture, and psyche, the interpretation of art is as a result impure.

So here I am in the bathroom, and you cannot get more banal, everday, or outside the realm of political correctness. Listening to Anna Netrebko, a completely marvelous trancendetal voice singing "Ah! non Credea Mirarti" from Bellini's La Sonnambula is a perfect example of the other extreme of the continuum. This polarity woke me up and I thought: if everything happens for a reason, I should probably pay attention to why I am hearing this now, and perhaps if the lyrics have any meaning. Incidentally, it starts with a flute.

Oh, I didn't believe to see you
so quickly extinct, o flowers;
you have passed away like love
that one day only lasted.

Perhaps new life
my tears will bring to you
but to revive love
my tears, o no, cannot

O, inconceivable human thought
a wave of contentment I am full:
In my feelings I can hardly believe
you assure me, o my treasure (darling)

O, embrace me, and always together,
always united in a single hope,
of the world, we live in
we will make a heaven of love

Perhaps the most significant line as I am consistently attempting to reinvent myself, is the explanation and human tears can bring new life. The individual has the ability to change ourselves and impact others. Human thought is assuring. However, love is our immediate beyond control.

There are many possible meaningful and significant extrapolations here. Hope you find one as well.

Tackling Difficult Issues

2009-09-24T20:19:00.000-07:00

Large issues are easier to understand and synthesize when they are presented in humanized form. I spent my Thursday (which is my Monday in work days) evening and treated myself impromptuly to Stages Repertory Theatre's production of Eric Coble's "Southern Rapture." The last work I had seen of Eric's dealt with a family desperate need for their toddler to be in the right social circles that they end up committing murder to ensure his admission to an exclusive school. Hilarious. I expected the same out of "Southern Rapture" with the addition of one enticing attribute: nudity.

Eric Coble traces the cold to boiling progress of a variety of huge conceptual issues. Censorship, public support of controversial art, the definition of art, the purpose of art, and the fine line between certain artistic content and moral decency. All in about 2 hours. By humanizing the issues, Coble truly makes us look through a cubist perspective: through all angles at the same time.

The story traces the cordial friendship of a small southern town mayor in Georgia and a theater director who decides to put on a play dealing with homosexual issues including a short nude scene where an aids infected young man gets his penis inspected for lesions. Pressure from church and society groups encourages the mayor to first suggest the play not be done, then using legal powers to prevent the performance ending with failed behind the scenes negotiations until the play went on. In essence, the struggle between the characters is a microcosm of the struggles between public funding organizations and progressive and "questionable" art movements.

Best quotes and general thoughts of the night, and excuse me if I get these wrong. They were stored in my head:

"Government was no part in deciding what is art and what it isn't. You artists pushed the envelope to cause controversy and public outcry, now we have to. We were happy not caring"

"You are spiritual and cultural pollution."

"Government either funds everything, of funds nothing."

"I'm not a lesbian. I am just hard to live with."

Art continues to expand its own vocabulary. Classical arts were easily identifiable. Visual art was on a frame. Sculpture was recognizable. Music was within parameters. Theater was narrative. Dance had rules. Today, lines blur. Performance art redefines genres. Technology expands artistic possibilities. Global connections encourages cultural collaborations. Our definition no longer has clean boundaries. We are forced to come up with parameters, however the task is impossible. So what does art do:

Expresses? Symbolizes? Decorates? Entertains? Contemplates? Challenges? Questions? Represents? Contemplates? Perplexes? Angers? Soothes? Connects? Relates? Narrates? Records? Explains?

The list goes on. I'd like to think that art makes me think. Thus this blog.

You have to go. For tickets, contact Stages Repertory Theatre.

Photos by Bruce Bennett

(L-R) Pamela Vogel as socialite Alissa Marchand, Jovan Jackson as Emmett, Jon

L. Egging as Mickey Stedman

Growing Up

2009-09-22T22:35:00.000-07:00

Lately, I have been obsessed with feeling like a tourist at home. It is often that visitors visit Houston's best while the locals concentrate of work and no play. Ever think how ridiculous it is to wait until we are out of town to enjoy the things that other cities have but seldom make time an effort to enjoy what we have right here?

A place I love to frequent is the Museum of Fine Arts, Houston Sculpture Garden at the North East corner of Bissonnet and Montrose. Especially during temperate weather, one can spend many hours being enchanted, confused, and perhaps a little perplexed by the works on display here. Two bronze sculptures always take my breath away. Rodin "The Walking Man" is rich in texture, playing on light and shadows. I remember distinctly my art teacher Lucy Durkin explaining how Rodin makes her just want to touch the works. The texture and play is completely sensual. http://www.mfah.org/sculpturegarden/artworks.asp?pid=1&aid=1

Matisse also has 4 works on display here. Back I, II, III and IV and spanning 21 years of artistic history. The portray the artists concept growth from 1909 to 1930. It gives me a sense of the character growth as the emphasis from anatomical and mannerist representation is abandoned in favor of a formalized and soft geometric approach.

Do you know how you feel when you look at pictures of yourself from 10 years ago? It is amazing to remember where you were, how you were, and more importantly, how you were feeling (although sometimes what were you thinking is appropriate). I feel these give us a deep look inside the artistic concept, and trace trends over 21 years.

Art and Jerry Springer

2009-09-18T16:00:00.001-07:00

It can be plausible to assume that some may find the classical arts somewhat boring. Perhaps due to a lack of syntax or one's inability to understand arts language, it can lead to feeling quite disconnected from the aesthetic experience.

I have been in a tear to feel like I am a tourist in my own city. Strange concept right? True. We often do not take advantage of the things we have right here right now, and wait until we are in strange far away lands to venture to museums, happenings, and the such. Well, today things change for you. I am giving you permission, actually, I am challenging you to behave like a tourist and explore where you are. Right here, right now.

I have been attending the "gallery talks" at the Museum of Fine Arts, Houston. These are short tours, 1 hour at the most focusing on one subject matter, sometimes even just on one work. They are led by volunteer docents that have a love and passion for the arts, and make the tour fun, accessible, and educational. I learned something terribly naughty and reminded me that sometimes there is such drama surrounding the arts, that the history behind certain works is just worthy of it's own Jerry Springer show. Here is the story of Maurice Utrillo.

His mother Suzanne Valadon (changed her name from Marie-Clementine) became an artists model after a fall from a circus trapeze ended her career as an acrobat. She figuratively and literaly took of her clothes for infamous personalities like Berthe Morisot, Pierre-Auguste Renoir, Henri de Toulouse-Lautrec, and later Edgar Degas who became her mentor.Out of these affairs came Maurice, and the following anecdotal story. Included is her self-portrait on display at MFAH.

"After Maurice was born to Suzanne Valadon, she went to Renoir, for whom she had modeled nine months previously. Renoir looked at the baby and said, 'He can't be mine, the color is terrible!' Next she went to Degas, for whom she had also modeled. He said, 'He can't be mine, the form is terrible!' At a cafe, Valadon saw an artist she knew named Miguel Utrillo, to whom she spilled her woes. The man told her to call the baby Utrillo: 'I would be glad to put my name to the work of either Renoir or Degas." ('Parting With the Family van Gogh' in the New York Times, April 22, 2006)

The painting below is by Maurice Utrillo (1883-1955) circa 1914, oil on canvas and on display at MFAH. To add to twists, the central house pictured here in the middle of the street (rue Mont-Cenis) belonged to Mimi Pinson, an eccentric woman appearing in many literary and musical works, who happened to be the model for Puccini's La Boheme.

A little drama is always good in terms of art. In this case, it heightened my enjoyment of seemingly beautiful yet somewhat boring and unremarkable works. Reminds me of Daniel Pink's "A Whole New Mind" where he hypothesizes that due to the three A's, Asia, Automation, and Abundance (remedial jobs can be outsourced, technology makes repetitive tasks easy, and we have more "things" than ever in history), we are drawn to seek a deeper meaning. In that search, we play. In play, we tell stories. The same can be applied to people. Often we dismiss based on physical assumptions. Rich stories, histories (whether dramatic or not) and experiences can provide us so many more life lessons.

La Femme Fatale and Remembrance

2009-09-10T21:03:00.000-07:00

Give it to the French to pack so much drama in every minute of a work. Manon, although I was definitely more familiar with the opera, was exquisite and scandalous, as much as classical ballet would allow, and perhaps a hint more. Here are some of the themes encountered:

- Prostitution

- Sex

- Adultery

- Gambling

- Cheating

- Fighting/Murder

- Corruption

How much more French can we get? Originally novel by Antoine François Prévost and published in 1731, part of the story takes place in the swamps of Louisiana and New Orleans. It is a tragic love story where the protagonists have to decide between love and wealth, ending up dead and penniless. I can safely assume that most would not expect classical ballet to explore such subjects outside of Italian cinema, but the beauty of ballet, is that you can, and still call it high art. I can also assume that deep inside all our psyche's, we'd all love to be the enchantress femme fatale having seductive powers through beauty, charm, and allure that drives others to obsession, exhausting, insanity and irrational behavior.

As I was facebooking and twittering during the second intermission (yes the work is long, very long, and always think that extremely long works are pompous and self-indulgent, no matter how good they are), I looked at the date, froze, and my disposition changed. I suddenly had a blast of the past, clearly remembering where I was the night before and the morning of the fateful day of 9/11.

I had gone to bed early. I was a first year grad student at Rice University, Shepherd School of Music, having taken one-year off to work prior to starting my Master's Degree. I was full of energy, with a strong appetite for academic knowledge, and had set up a nice little routine for myself. Tuesday mornings went this like: Yoga class, practice flute, aesthetics class, practice, flute lesson, opera class, then off to Memorial High School to teach. My schedule was predictable, but my practice time was often filled with moments of blurriness, as often, one does not remember what you are doing all the time.

That particular morning, I had taken my flute and began warming up in my aesthetics classroom prior to anyone being there. Paganini Caprices were my project thanks to my teacher instilling a love/hate relationship with them during my undergrad years. Something was odd. It was 5 minutes to class, and no one was here. I started to worry that I was in the wrong place, or perhaps we were to meet somewhere else for a special something. I ignored myself and went on. After all, darn it, I was going to nail and sail through a technical passage that was giving me trouble.

Now it was class time, and again, no one was there. Half on hour went by, and no one was there.

My friend Katie Young (a ridiculously fabulous oboist with whom I share a long musical and very personal history as we went to undergrad and grad school together, at the time we were working on putting together the Ginastera flute oboe duo) called and said, "we are being attacked." Those words meant nothing at that time. Attacked? What does that mean? I left terrorism and fear (I thought) when we left Peru in the height of the shinning path movement in 1989. Is there suddenly a raid against emerging classical musicians? Those words had no meaning to me as they were out of context in my personal realm of possibility.

The rest of the day was a blur. I remember watching the news at the student center, watching people tear up, and being panic stricken at the realization that many had not heard from some friends and family living or visiting NYC. I cancelled my lessons to be taught later at Memorial High School, and spent the day numb.

Those immediately close to me were not harmed. But many folks within 2 degrees of separation were. Today, I put my flags half mast to think about them, the millions affected, and the millions who helped. I suppose the rain is very appropriate today.

Here is a recording of Katie and I playing the Ginastera Duo for Flute and Oboe. The second movement is quite eerie.

http://www.houstongrandopera.org/

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Manon_Lescaut

A Foreign Film as Beethoven

2009-09-06T06:28:00.001-07:00

Well, this was interesting. As I was browsing for things to do on a Friday night, I came across two things that caught my eye. The first was a Houston based baroque music ensemble doing a Mexican Fiesta in an outdoor theater. With the threat of rain, I opted against it and put plan B into action: sped to the Museum of Fine Arts, Houston, for a screening of Teorema, a 1968 Italian film by Pier Paolo Pasolini that has over the years gained a cult like status.

Without consciously realizing it, this would serve to evaluate my previous metaphor of Beethoven and foreign films, although not fully as I would not have the opportunity to watch it silently, without subtitles, and gain absolute command of the Italian language and its colloquialisms. Spanish is close to Italian so I was able to piece a few things together.

I did not know much about the work prior. All I knew was the title and the short description provided by the museum:

"One of the key films of the 1960s, Teorema stars Terence Stamp as a Christ-like figure who wanders out of the dunes and into the home of a Milanese industrialist. He seduces each member of the household: mother (Silvan Mangano), father, son, daughter, the maid. All are spiritually transformed by their sexual encounters, and when the visitor disappears just as mysteriously as he arrived, each develops strange ways to deal with the anguish of his absence. Teorema has been interpreted as both mystical and Marxist; Pasolini himself said it illustrates "the vendetta of the sacred against bourgeois society." The film was seized at the Venice film festival and charged with obscenity. Today it enjoys cult status."

Well, I suppose this is quite a lot of information. The title intrigued me as I could translated it into "theorem." In mathematics, a theorem is a statement proved on the basis of accepted statements. The concept of a theorem is deductive, where if the hypothesis are true, then the conclusions must be true (opposite from scientific theory). That tells me that Pasolini was trying to prove something out of a series of hypothesis. Given then content of the film, I'd say his commentary is rather pompous.

Historical knowledge and context is important, and I'd argue essential. Without knowledge and general background on the Industrial Revolution, the rise of the bourgeois and conflicts with the proletariats, Marxism's harsh commentary on capitalism, and post-war conditions, the viewer has a huge leeway to interpret and reinterpret missing the continuum that exists within each art discipline. Michael Kimmelman in the "Accidental Masterpiece" speaks about works whose interpretation depends on their physical context (like Nancy Holt's Sun Tunnels, the Vatican, anything that cannot be physically moved for aesthetic of practical reasons). Can the argument be made that this film cannot be taken out of its historical context due to the same reasons? It would become another work, and clearly, even the artist claimed a specific purpose. Of course, in today's standards, is it acceptable to become another work?

The first portion of the film goes to establish the industrialist bourgeois family in their context. Students running carelessly, cars, boys and girls holding hands, and a couple falling in love. In this case, visually it's quite innocent, but it is the music that provides the bitter commentary. Berg-esque and almost to the point of atonal expressionism, the music provides the viewer the notion that although the pictures are providing one affect, the music is providing the context in which the scene is to be interpreted and judged. I'll leap and propose that without all the elements intended present, the aesthetic experience is greatly compromised in regards to questioning the integrity of the bourgeois. Interesting to note that Ennio Morricone composed the music for this film.

The film is in three clear parts. The first are the seductions, where the Christ-like figure engages with each member of the family. The second are the confessions, where upon learning of his departure, they verbally vomit their psychological state and his effect on them. The third is there psychotic manifestation of the effect of something coming in and out of their lives, living out their void.

There is much room for personal interpretation also. Dialogue is minimal, but expression is abundant. We can guess at the internal struggle of each character, sometimes being able to personally connect, other times being separated from the subject by our inability to understand. I think Pasolini purposely gives these moments of blurriness (as my lovely friend Florence would say) to connect aesthetically.

Wherever dialogue is used, it is to further the development in ways that images cannot. It would give us too much blurriness and miss the overall psychological struggles of each character. Perhaps equating this to tonal syntax, it enables us to dig deeply into the past themes, present variations, and clues (foreshadowing) into future possibilities.

I can't say that I have am comfortable accepting my hypothesis as I don't believe there is a concrete and stable scale to determine our enjoyment, appreciation, and understanding of a work. Film still gives us a more representational approach, although in Pasolini's case, it is high symbolic and I'd leap a little higher in attempting a comparison. Perhaps one of these days, I'll do the whole experiment, and see what I can "understand" from each stage. I think it's worth a shot.

Beethoven as a Foreign Film

2009-09-02T20:31:00.000-07:00

In an art essay discussion group at the Contemporary Arts Museum Houston, we recently discoursed over the concept of "pilgrimage" to view, experience, and have an aesthetic experience with a work. The author was mainly citing works that are site specific, meaning, those that cannot be moved out of the space in which they currently exist for either physical reasons or due to aesthetic loss due to spatial context.

For better or for worse, I tend to always correlate my understanding of visual art to how I conceptualize musical syntax. I made a comparison that looking at the Mona Lisa is like listening to Beethoven, while looking (or visiting) Nancy Holt's Sun Tunels (pictured here) is like listening to John Cage. The latter asks the participant to play a more active role in the interaction with the work in order to appreciate it, understand it and respond appropriately and aesthetically. They are also site and time specific. Meaning, the interpretation of the work is dependent on the circumstances and the space at that particular time. On retrospect, I should have also listed George Crumb.

At the risk of sounding elitist (which I did), I responded at the suggestion that some would find Beethoven's music boring. In that case I proposed, there would most likely be a lack of understanding and knowledge of his musical language and syntax. I equate this to someone saying they don't get Shakespeare. Let me clarify that I do not believe that all types of music can be thought of as language, just like not all art is dependent upon its surroundings and context for interpretation, appreciation and understanding.

On my way home I came up with the following understanding and appreciation metaphor. Let's think of a Beethoven Symphony as an Italian (or any foreign) film. We can:

1. Watch it without sound

This to me would be the equivalent of hearing it for the first time without any prior knowledge of classical music syntax, whether conscious or unconscious. There would be some basic understanding of the story line by visual depiction only but a lot of the nuances, themes, secondary plots, and sounds that are not related to the picture would be missed. Also, certain parts would make completely sense while others would remain a undecipherable. I also compare this to reading only sections of a book at random and trying to get full understanding from this experiment. Being that music occurs at a specific moment, it would be quite understandable that the viewer would tune in and out and miss key components that add to the character and plot development.

2. Watch it with sound but with no knowledge of the language or one related to (like spanish and Italian)

I consider this like hearing it and being familiar with classical music in general terms. In this case, external sounds and general speech nuances will give us a better understanding of the expression behind the meaning. Certain sounds are universal. We can easily identify certain emotions but in some cases, without understanding their raison d'être. Scenes where language is used mainly for plot development will be completely lost. In relation to music, this would be like not being able to recognize a theme and its variations.

3. Watch it with subtitles

I equate this to knowing basic music syntax, music theory harmony and general musical forms. Although appreciation can happen at the above levels, I believe true understanding perhaps begins here. Still, we miss the nuances of the original language, missing any specific idiosyncratic linguistic attributes that are lost in translation.

4. Watch it with full command of the academic version of the language
A full grasp, command, and understanding of tonal systems, perhaps with a lack of historical context of the norms of the time period, this is like understanding academically every line in the movie, but missing colloquialisms that may (or may not) enhance its communicative efficacy.

5. Watch it with full command of the colloquial language and its context
Perhaps this is where understanding, appreciating, interpreting, and aesthetic interaction meet. Although this is perhaps an utopian idea, it is the place to strive for to decipher and understand Beethoven's syntax. I think those that have experienced it on period instruments could attest for the difference in sound and affect this imposes on the performer and listener.

I am reminded myself of the many times when I am sitting next to my better half, who speaks several languages, watching television in an idiom I do not understand, stopping and asking every 5 seconds: what are they saying? What is happening? I am sure he finds this extremely annoying. I grasp somethings, but most is lost. With movies being mostly representational (you recognize concretely what you see) and music being mainly symbolic (through abstracting expression), I think it would be easy to adopt a feeling of appreciation without understanding.

I am reminded of Partner's in Building (a Houston custom builder) website a year or so ago. The flash site started with a series of exterior and interior pictures of their product with an instrumental version of Madonna's "Ray of Light." Those not familiar with the lyrics of the song, would miss that the chorus repeats "and I feel like I just got home." I would argue without this knowledge one would miss a rather large part of the presentation's message.

Am I being elitist by suggesting the same with music? Or perhaps just realistic?

More on Nancy Holt
Contemporary Arts Museum Houston

Finding my Perfect 5th

2009-09-02T12:49:00.000-07:00

The Rothko Chapel never seizes to amaze me. Founded by John and Dominique de Menil, it was dedicated in 1971 as an intimate sanctuary available to people of every belief. A modern meditative environment inspired by the mural canvasses of American abstract expressionist Mark Rothko, the Chapel welcomes thousands of visitors each year, people of every faith and from all parts of the world.

I frequent their lectures series "Twelfth Moments of Meditation" where leaders of a myriad of faiths lead participants in practice. Additionally, it serves as a forum to ask questions about their dogma, specific place in relation to other doctrines, and the leader's personal relationship with the religion. I have attended many, but this one was particularly humorous to me with addition of chant and drumming.

The Nichiren Shu Buddhist Meditation was led by Reverend Myokei Caine-Barrett. The main chant was the title of the Lotus Sutra (a discourse delivered by the Buddha toward the end of his life): Myōhō Renge Kyō. It started as a steady drone, slowly increasing tempo and dynamic level (and pitch) until we suddently stopped. It was highly tantric, somewhat hypnotic, and very very exotic.

The problem came when I was not satisfied chanting in unison, after all, the perfect 5th has a wonderful ring, where the resulting vibrations are strong and almost ticklish. So I ventured and sang, well, hummed the harmony. At first, it felt good, so my hum turned into a strong chant, gradually of course, Then I added a little glisssando to the pitch, after all, it seemed stylistically appropriate, and it was so much fun. As I was engaging myself in more of a musical game, I realized I was missing the whole point.

Of course, by this time, the whole group, including the leader seemed to have modulated to some unrecognizable interval. Well, I should specify, some of the group modulated and some where left behind. I had a lovely Italian lady next to me (who I recognized from last month's Bahai meditation) who decided she was going to stay right in pitch so I struggled to find either her perfect 5th, of the leader's. I noticed my pitch swimming around like a wide nanny goat vibrator until I found a pitch that wasn't terribly horrific. Eventually, everyone modulated, of course, by this time, we had again moved higher to another pitch level. I was doomed.

Well at least I had fun trying. Perhaps I didn't have the aesthetic and spiritual experience I had hoped for, but It was definitely an entertaining experience worth writing about. I did find my perfect 5th, but it wasn't for long.

http://www.rothkochapel.org/index.htm

http://www.nichiren-shu.org/Houston/pages/minister.htm

My Dance Style

2009-08-30T10:56:00.000-07:00

Lately, I have been obsessed with the origins of certain words. I feel like unraveling their history is deciphering a key element in understanding my relationships to them, especially when examining my interaction with aesthetic experiences.

Yesterday, I treated myself, my better half, and my neighbors to Dance Houston's City Wide Dance Festival. Kudos to Executive Director Andrea Cody for putting together such a diverse, energizing, and sublime (my word du jour) roaster of spectacular and colorful companies that presented folk, ballroom, contemporary, cultural, classical, and urban styles. I believe anyone who is exposed to this art form at one point says to themselves "I want to do just that," or perhaps "I want to fit in that fabulous outfit."

For me, it did something more than just entertain. It allowed me to examine my reactions to each of the fourteen companies and genre's presented. Without prior knowledge of most of these companies, I carefully noted my involvement level. It was easy to be captured by the delicious colorful costumes of Compania Folklorica Alegria Mexicana and their peasant like zapateado, the exotic, angular and expressive hand gestures of the Sreepadam School of Arts with their exquisite cultural outfits, the deep, thoughtful and programmatic narrative by Urban Souls Dance Company and the overwhelming energy of each and every dancer of Wyld Styl. Each group's work was unique, accessible and I could go on for ages. In the interest of your interest, go next year.

There was one group that went beyond taking my breath away and that was Houston Ballet II performing "Den III" choreographed by Garrett Smith. I was captured by their simple and graceful lines, intriguing shapes, the dramatic yet uncomplicated use of light, shadows, mirroring and repetition. The work was hypnotic with powerful minimal costumes in red and black, accompanied by medieval like music that featured a constant drum not dissimilar to a heartbeat. I was bewitched by the four dancers' ability to use and fill the stage. They appeared larger than life-like.

I was surprised that Houston Ballet II's performance would have such an effect. After all, I salivate at the idea of Indian cultural dance, sexy tango, and high energy samba and ballroom moves. I learned that my eye is drawn to the formalized movements that are associated with the art, especially when sprinkled with other dance elements.

I researched the etymology of dance and found:

From Middle English daunsen, from Anglo-Norman dancier, from Old French dancer (“to dance”) of Germanic origin akin to Old High German dansōn "to stretch, draw out (the arms as if motioning), extend, dance"; Old High German dinsan "to draw out", Gothic aþinsan, Old English. þenian, þunian "to extend, stretch", "be stretched"

I associate stretching and extend with the beautiful formalized lines demanded by classical ballet. As a musician, I always enjoyed the challenge of bringing creativity, color and life within established parameters of the stylized and accepted form of the baroque, classical and romantic periods. I rationalize that I was mesmerized by "Den III" for similar attributes.

http://www.dancehouston.org/

http://www.houstonballet.org/Academy/Houston_Ballet_II/

http://www.myspace.com/companiafolklorica

http://www.sreepadam.org/

http://www.urbansoulsdancecompany.com/

...moving...

2009-08-26T13:02:00.000-07:00

In response to a Facebook posting announcing my intent to visit the Holocaust Museum Houston, my dear friend Sophia (Artistic Director of Psophonia Dance Company) wrote to me and shared that for her, "the whole experience was very moving." Aside from a curious synchronicity between her kinesthetic art and her description as moving, I decided to investigate the etymology of moving as it relates to being affected emotionally and deeply. Of course, as we dissect the word emotion, we find easily a semantic connection with the root of both words.Googling moving proved disastrous as I was over bombarded with companies wanting to help me move to a new home and store my valuables. Wikipedia was not helpful at all, as it concentrated on the moving industry. I did learn however about music albums named as such (Pater, Paul and Mary), about a Japanese film and a British sitcom.

As the words etymology, emotion and moving were swirling around in my consciousness, I searched for the etymology of emotion. Therein lay my answer and I found it fascinating.

Paul Thomas Young in his book "Motivation of Behavior - the Fundamentals Determinants of Human and Animal Activity" explains that the word emotion is derived from the Latin e (out) and movere (to move). Originally, in the 1600s the word was associated with migration, to move from one place into another. In the 1700s, the physical meaning was gradually transfered to political and social agitation. He associates the meaning to tumult and popular disturbance. It was later in 1762 that it was used to describe any agitated or excited mental state of an individual. Other online dictionaries supported this semantic development.

Interestingly, there seems to be a negative connotation when one describes an individual as emotional. We assume they are unstable, inadequate and weak, not unlike its roots. We associated its origins with strong feelings, developing into conscious emotions, and moving into irrational behavior. When we describe an artistic work as emotional, we assign it a special power to move (not to be redundant) and to affect our physiological state in terms of mood, temperament, disposition, and possible personality. That indeed, is a positive attribute.

This also brought light to another colloquialism many of us use: fleeting emotions: something that passes quickly, always in transition and fades away. My experience at the Holocaust Museum Houston will not be fleeting and will not be forgotten.

I had the opportunity to view the Besa: Muslims Who Saved Jews During the Holocaust exhibit. In Albania, Besa is the code of honor "to keep the promise" and featured photography by Norman H. Gershman. I learned about many heroes that remained unrecognized for a long period of time given the political climate in Eastern Europe. The photography was soft, emotive and captured the beauty and sanctity of the essence of the personalities pictured.

(Left) Nadire Proseku, holding a photograph of her husband - Lived near a Train Station in Tirana - Muslim, protected three Jewish strangers. (Right) Petraq Xhimitku (back) and Sofir Simsia (front) standing in the wall where his father was set to be executed for sheltering Jews from Kosovo, saved by a partisan group who moments before, shot the executing officers.

I was moved, although the stereotypical fleeting emotion will certainly stay with me for a long time, perhaps weaving in and out of consciousness. The beauty lay in the bravery and purity of intentions that came out of horrible adversity and unimaginable circumstances. Perhaps, like Ashley McLean and Traci Matlock, I had found the sublime.

Below are also photographs of a train used to transport entire targeted communities to concentration and death camps. Amazing to think what is now a stationary exhibit in a museum may have been many people's last memory. I encourage you to see it for yourself.

Psophonia Dance Company

Holocaust Museum Houston

Matcha and Shiatsu

2009-08-25T11:13:00.001-07:00

I make my biweekly pilgrimage to the Path of Tea for my irresistible cup of frozen soy matcha smoothie. There is a strange energy always bringing me back here for this elixir, perhaps it's because I feel slightly high after, or the wonderful melange of creative and thought-provoking beings lurking around. At any rate, I am here today and right now.

I rushed back from a client walk (driving at almost 100 mph) to learn about Shiatsu. Prior to that, I just thought it was a fun word to say, but like most, had little idea of what it was all about. The word itself is somewhat sexy, but then again, I have somewhat of a peculiar mind.

I ordered my frozen nectar and sat next to what started as a stranger, an artist who worked in chinese calligraphy and sumi-e painting, realizing we had many friends and colleagues in common (a sample of a creative and thought-provoking being lurking) . We were introduced to Guy Hiscock, who started rambling in somewhat stream of consciousness fashion about his therapy practice. I have to admit I was a little confused at first trying to grasp for meaning and cohesiveness. Then I started to get it.

Integrative Shiatsu works on our three levels of existence: physical, emotional, and spiritual. The concept is that energy systems become unsynchronized due to stress, and by realigning them, the body is empowered to accelerate the healing process, preventing disease, and work at its best capacity. Guy was communicating with all these planes, then back to us, and his communication to us was extremely energetic, hilarious at times, and somewhat fragmented due to the different pathways of information reaching him. Of course, this is a much simplified definition of the practice, that was just my take away today.

Guy did demonstrations at random. Names were drawn out of a basked, and alas, I was a "chosen one." I felt like the virgin form the Danse Sacrale of the Rite of Spring, given that I was one of three men in the room. But hey, I am ready, willing and able. I am not sure why there was a little nervous anxiety inside of me, as I am usually very open to experiences outside of my realm.

His presence is calming. He asked me what I was afraid of since I was 6 years old (I informed him of my bad rotator cuff) when I fell of the monkey bars and broke my arm and I blurted out quickly and immediately: failure. That quick interaction brought something into my consciousness that I had not been aware of thought in a long time.

Using pressure points identified by the physical he made me aware of some meandering thoughts hidden somewhere deep in the vortex of what is my consciousness. Then I started to understand and made me wonder about what longer therapy would uncover. Am I ready, willing and able?

As i ponder, I'll order another matcha soy smoothie.

http://www.mountainearthstudio.com/

http://www.thepathoftea.com/

http://www.hiscockintegrativeshiatsu.com/

Hearing Visually and Visualizing Sound

2009-08-21T19:20:00.000-07:00

Multimedia presentations are not new. The concept of combing artistic disciplines is rooted in folkloric cultural traditions. Music incites movement. Dance is enriched by music. Opera has traditionally combined music, dance and theater, and to a different extent visual arts (if one could consider set design artistic). The concept of gesamtkunstwerk (gesamt = entire, kunst = art, werk = factory/work) describes universal artwork, one which includes and synthesizes all art forms.

Although the term is generally associated with Wagner (1813-1883), it was first used by philosopher Eusebius Trahndorff in 1827, and aligned quite explicitly romantic ideologies: a reaction against the rational and scientific thinking of the Age of Enlightenment in favor of the sublimity of and strong emotional contrasts of the aesthetic experience. Today of course, our accepted list of what is colloquially considered art or artistic is largely expanded and continues to be challenged. In a post-modern world where everything goes and technology keeps that threshold moving, the concept of gesamtkunstwerk is not only ideal, it’s perhaps impossible to achieve without established limits.

Jade Simmons, pianist amidst many other abilities, crafted a short lecture recital at Wade Wilson Gallery that combined two disciplines. Selected Etudes of Alexander Scriabin and works of Wassily Kandinsky were paired in Hearing Color, Seeing Sound. One thing was certain, Jade loves cool colors, and her playing is sinfully delicious (music and culinary arts, now there is a synesthetic experience cannot live without).

I always describe Scriabin’s music as drunk and high on pot Chopin. A peculiar and frail personality, a hypochondriac (ironically dying from a cut, boil and lip infection while shaving), Scriabin claims, although disputed, to have had synesthetic experiences. Synesthesia is the concept that one sensory stimulant leads to another involuntary one. We use this in language as metaphors quite often. For example: loud colors (those in design know exactly what I meant), bitter cold, and green with envy.

Although I do not agree with musical keys assigned only one color, I do believe sonorities in context can be associated more successfully. Scriabin went as far as aligning each note with a color (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Scriabin) Although I am hesitant to be quite literal, and to be fair, I have not done enough research to truly understand Scriabin thought process, colors for me are drawn from a visual representation of the symbolic nature of each piece.

Take the key of C and it's association with the color red. I can't imagine the last movement of Beethoven's Fifth and Mozart Piano Sonata in C Major K.545 being associated with the same color no matter how we shade and discuss. I know the suggestion is horribly simplistic and a little jejune given the scope of both works, but if one is make the argument of synchronicity between color and key, it should be universal right? Or did Mozart write this in the wrong key?

Listen to Beethoven's Fifth, Last Movement

Listen to Mozart's Piano Sonata in C Major K. 545 First Movement

Psychologically the color red symbolizes passion, strength, energy, fire, sex, love, romance, excitement, speed, heat, arrogance, ambition, leadership, masculinity, power, danger, blood, war, anger, revolution, radicalism, communism and aggression. Now think of all companies that use red in their logos. Is that saying something about them?

Here is a piece of music most will be unfamiliar with unless you are a masochist flutist or pianist who loves flutists. I had a clear image when I was learning to play the first movement of the Liebermann Flute Sonata. That of a frozen civilization, icicles, clear, pristine, brushed with grayish blues, whites and glimmers of light. Incidentally, I always hear flat keys in terms of cool tones. Did I get it right?

Listen to Lowell Liebermann's Flute Sonata First Movement

I think it's more valuable to explore the possibility rather than to come up with a strict guideline. Enriching the way we hear, see, touch, taste and smell translates into heightening the way we feel and interpret. Keep up with Jade and let's see what she comes up with next.

http://www.jademedia.org/

http://www.wadewilsonart.com/

Learning to find the "Sublime"

2009-08-20T05:34:00.000-07:00

Photography is such an interesting and relatively new art. The word itself is derived from greek roots and can be simplified to mean "drawing with light." The first permanent image was recorded in 1825 by French inventor Nicéphore Niépce (gotta love the French) making it a much younger form when comparing it to the classical arts.

At Spacetaker's SPEAKeasy, a monthly event where artists present and speak about their works, aesthetic process, philosophy, and language, I was introduced to the "sublime" work of a collaborative team of photgraphers: Ashley MacLean and Traci Maclean. Together they call themselves Tethered to the Sun.

They presented a line of images that to the naked and untrained eye may seem thematically disconnected. Although I could appreciate and react the images from a variety of different angles, I struggled to make sense to decipher some sort of cohesiveness. However, in their artist language and artistic philosophy, they were connected by their search to exhibit the "sublime."

Straight from dictionary (http://www.merriam-webster.com/dictionary/sublime):
Pronunciation: \sə-ˈblīm\

Etymology: Middle English, from Middle French sublimer, from Medieval Latin sublimare to refine, sublime, from Latin, to elevate, from sublimis

Date: 14th century[French sublimer, from Latin sublimare]

a (1) : to elevate or exalt especially in dignity or honor (2) : to render finer (as in purity or excellence)

b : to convert (something inferior) into something of higher worth

From wikipedia: (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Sublime_(philosophy))

In aesthetics, the sublime (from the Latin sublimis ([looking up from] under the lintel, high, lofty, elevated, exalted) is the quality of greatness or vast magnitude, whether physical, moral, intellectual, metaphysical, aesthetic, spiritual or artistic. The term especially refers to a greatness with which nothing else can be compared and which is beyond all possibility of calculation, measurement or imitation.

When thought of it as a verb rather than an adjective, it is something we do. In the artists language and communicative style, they were turning things into the sublime according to their own aesthetic and artistic values. For the viewer, we had to search for it, and the exercise exposed some of our own judgements and limits. The photography was not stereotypically "pretty" but required sometimes a strong response as it sometimes (but not always) contained violent and sexual overtones. It could be offensive to some.

My take away: as a verb, we have the ability to view beyond content and find the sublime in these works, sometimes it is readily available, some times we have to work to uncover it. This in turn opened a new life philosophy: finding beauty in the most unexpected of places and situations.
It's all about attitude.

I am providing a link to the artists website below. The content may be difficult for some to experience.

http://www.spacetaker.org/

http://www.winterstreetstudios.net/

http://tetheredtothesun.com/home.html

Look, I am ART!

2009-08-16T10:48:00.000-07:00

If you have not been to a Spacetaker event or a Winter Street Studios open house, you are missing an opportunity to be exposed to a variety of different art mediums, styles and experiences. A melange of upcoming, established, and well-known creative personalities, critiques and leaders strolled through the various studios and exhibition spaces, all while listening to a loud band play cover tunes. The chips and salsa were a definite bonus.

I ran into Carrie Schneider. I met Carrie somewhere between here and there and somewhere else (we are both puzzled as to how we know each other), and connected at a Contemporary Arts Museum, Houston essay discussion group. The essay was extremely academic, and soon we were off topic discussing the dilemma of art institution outreach programs, marketing, and development departments. At what point do we try to add interactivity and interconnectivity just to please foundations, corporations, government entities and donors looking to affect the most change as well as to gain the most visibility? And, does this mean selling out in favor of creating a profile that looks good to those that have the money.

Carrie caught my attention with two pieces. One of them happened to be me. YES, I WAS ART. How? She placed a mirror, a dry erase marker, had people go to town, and of course, the reflection of you and those around you became a part of the work. Interactivity and interconnectivity were essential to the success of the aesthetic experience. Process and product were equally important.

I sent an email to my mother with this picture with a quote. Look Mom, I am ART. She is an artist also.

Spacetaker.org

Carrie Schneider Blog

Winter Street Studios