Saturday, November 22, 2008
The Phantom of the Opera - AHB
I went to "The Phantom of the Opera" at the Statni Opera House simply out of convenience. My family was in town over Fall break, and this just happened to be the show that was playing the night we wanted to go. I knew very little of the background, and at first I was surprised to find out that this was not the familiar American version (Lloyd Webber's musical).
I was struck by Van der Leeuw's claim that dance is the original, and hence most sacred art form. On an intellectual level I have almost no understanding of dance, of all Van der Leeuw's sections it is probably the most foreign to me. At the same time, I love rhythmic music and the way that body moves to the vibrations of sound. It's funny yet sad how dancing has been has become either an super-sexualized movement entirely devoid of art or a bland and meaningless form of individual expression, I just don't buy that garbage. It's almost as if the simplicity of dance makes it the easiest art to manipulate.
I know ballet gets a pretty rep for being boring, and I'm sure at least someone fell asleep during the performance. But I had a really easy time engaging with the characters and the story. I find it incredible that movement alone can be used to tell a story with so many different emotions. One thing that I dislike in Van der Leeuw's book is that he separates drama and dance become the former displays both movement AND countermovement, which the latter lacks. Thinking about this performance makes me question this conclusion. I don't see how you can have a dance involving multiple people that doesn't display countermovement. The most severe example I can think of is Argentine Tango, which actually requires improvisation. This tango has basic steps like any other, but either partner can switch the motions at any time by giving his or her partner physical signals. If dance was merely movement there could be no story.
Dance is a really interesting way of exploring relationships. Christine alternates dances with the Phantom and the Vicomte, and through these interactions she seems to develop some sort of love/affection for each. As we all know, she ultimately chooses the Vicomte, sending the Phantom into a rage. The drama subsides when the Phantom realizes that he cannot possess Christine with fear the way he does with nearly everyone else. The Phantom's subsequent decision to let her and the Vicomte go shows that love is not an excuse for ownership; like any good dance, it is impossible without the interplay of movement and countermovement.
I was struck by Van der Leeuw's claim that dance is the original, and hence most sacred art form. On an intellectual level I have almost no understanding of dance, of all Van der Leeuw's sections it is probably the most foreign to me. At the same time, I love rhythmic music and the way that body moves to the vibrations of sound. It's funny yet sad how dancing has been has become either an super-sexualized movement entirely devoid of art or a bland and meaningless form of individual expression, I just don't buy that garbage. It's almost as if the simplicity of dance makes it the easiest art to manipulate.
I know ballet gets a pretty rep for being boring, and I'm sure at least someone fell asleep during the performance. But I had a really easy time engaging with the characters and the story. I find it incredible that movement alone can be used to tell a story with so many different emotions. One thing that I dislike in Van der Leeuw's book is that he separates drama and dance become the former displays both movement AND countermovement, which the latter lacks. Thinking about this performance makes me question this conclusion. I don't see how you can have a dance involving multiple people that doesn't display countermovement. The most severe example I can think of is Argentine Tango, which actually requires improvisation. This tango has basic steps like any other, but either partner can switch the motions at any time by giving his or her partner physical signals. If dance was merely movement there could be no story.
Dance is a really interesting way of exploring relationships. Christine alternates dances with the Phantom and the Vicomte, and through these interactions she seems to develop some sort of love/affection for each. As we all know, she ultimately chooses the Vicomte, sending the Phantom into a rage. The drama subsides when the Phantom realizes that he cannot possess Christine with fear the way he does with nearly everyone else. The Phantom's subsequent decision to let her and the Vicomte go shows that love is not an excuse for ownership; like any good dance, it is impossible without the interplay of movement and countermovement.
Wednesday, November 19, 2008
Amanda- Orange, the color of the future
I love Mucha! I think I could have spent all day in the gallery and there are so many things I want to say here, but let me start with my first reactions to his unique style.
His intricately detailed lithographs are absolutely stunning especially considering the limited technology he had when they were created. The fact that each work had to be individually carved out of one or two stones and then carefully painted on was incredibly interesting to me, and made me appreciate their apparent beauty even more.
The next thing that I really enjoyed about Mucha was his evident love for the Czech people in all of his work. He incorporated a lot of old pagan gods and symbols of the country throughout his posters, incorporating the history of his country, and all leading up to his great ‘Slav epic.’ I found his promotion of nationalism to be quite admirable and very necessary for the rebuilding of the physical Czech nation, as well as the hearts and minds of the people.
Beyond this, the other thing that made me appreciate his work even more was his dedication to not only his own people, but to all people. One of the little bios posted about him in the gallery had the quote from him on this topic: “we must live in the hope that all mankind will become closer.” Even though it was said that his commercial work was so successful, this message came across to me in all of his amazing work. The unique aspect of poster art, allowed the masses to see his work everywhere, not just those who could afford to go to galleries or to the theater and this set the stage for Mucha to create a great imprint on the world.
For example, the work “Loterie Narodni jednoty” depicting a young schoolgirl carrying books and pencils, created a great and haunting impression on me. The description written under the poster read that the girl ‘looks accusingly at the viewers demanding from them support both for her education and for ailing cechia,’ and I couldn’t have said it better myself. Mucha used his fame in commercial success to make people pay attention to a greater message, and that is something that is incredibly admirable and humble in a man with such great talent. He could have easily just continued to work on theater posters and portraits of the famous and partied with the wealthy. By going down this path he still would have been remembered for being a great artist, but instead he chose to remind his country all that they should be proud of, and all they should aspire to be, and for that he will also be remembered as a great person, in addition to an amazing artist.
His intricately detailed lithographs are absolutely stunning especially considering the limited technology he had when they were created. The fact that each work had to be individually carved out of one or two stones and then carefully painted on was incredibly interesting to me, and made me appreciate their apparent beauty even more.
The next thing that I really enjoyed about Mucha was his evident love for the Czech people in all of his work. He incorporated a lot of old pagan gods and symbols of the country throughout his posters, incorporating the history of his country, and all leading up to his great ‘Slav epic.’ I found his promotion of nationalism to be quite admirable and very necessary for the rebuilding of the physical Czech nation, as well as the hearts and minds of the people.
Beyond this, the other thing that made me appreciate his work even more was his dedication to not only his own people, but to all people. One of the little bios posted about him in the gallery had the quote from him on this topic: “we must live in the hope that all mankind will become closer.” Even though it was said that his commercial work was so successful, this message came across to me in all of his amazing work. The unique aspect of poster art, allowed the masses to see his work everywhere, not just those who could afford to go to galleries or to the theater and this set the stage for Mucha to create a great imprint on the world.
For example, the work “Loterie Narodni jednoty” depicting a young schoolgirl carrying books and pencils, created a great and haunting impression on me. The description written under the poster read that the girl ‘looks accusingly at the viewers demanding from them support both for her education and for ailing cechia,’ and I couldn’t have said it better myself. Mucha used his fame in commercial success to make people pay attention to a greater message, and that is something that is incredibly admirable and humble in a man with such great talent. He could have easily just continued to work on theater posters and portraits of the famous and partied with the wealthy. By going down this path he still would have been remembered for being a great artist, but instead he chose to remind his country all that they should be proud of, and all they should aspire to be, and for that he will also be remembered as a great person, in addition to an amazing artist.
Amanda- "Memorial to the Murdered Jews of Europe"
I thought the discussion in class the other day about the 'correct' way to find meaning in art was incredibly interesting, and sparked an immediate thought in my mind about something I recently saw on my trip to Berlin. We were talking about the question of which is more important, knowing the historical context of a work of art, and the artist’s intention or the individual viewer’s personal interpretation. I next thought about the interaction between both of these options, and the idea of the audience influencing the meaning of the work, adding to the concept the artist first had. I think this relationship between the artist and their audience is quite important in the process of all art, and essentially the point that it is created. The dialogue and the connection that is formed between an artist, a piece of art, and the audience of art is a specific link that can not be compared to anything else in the world.
A great example that I’ve come across of this interesting interaction between an artist and their audience is the holocaust memorial in Berlin. The memorial itself is composed of dozens of rows of large concrete blocks of differing heights, loosely arranged from shortest to tallest. The ground which the stones are arranged on is uneven and forms a wave-like pattern heading backwards from the front of the memorial. One of the most interesting things about the structure itself is that there is no plaque or sign stating what it is, it is just a large structure taking up about a whole city block directly in the middle of where Berlin’s business and tourist districts intersect.
This structure was only finished 4 years ago, after the city went through a long process of deciding the appropriate way of tackling such an important monument, they settled on the idea of holding a contest. The winner, Peter Eisenmen, designed the memorial in this ambiguous fashion very intently, which is why it was selected as the winner. I was told that many people interpret the stones to be tomb stones of those who perished at the hands of the Nazis, while others seem to think they symbolize the rows of mindless soldiers involved in the horror of the holocaust. I found the most interesting explanation of the work to be the gradual incline of the stones to represent a sort of bar graph of how such a horrific event came to be. Specifically, the small leaps from anti-Semitic comments and beliefs, to discrimination, all the way up to mass murders in concentration camps.
There was a lot of controversy before the memorial was created because some people thought it would be more appropriate to provide a free shuttle to one of the near by concentration camps. After much consideration, the city decided to stick with the concept of a physical monument in the city because this way everyone in Berlin had to see it, they couldn’t chose to not get on one of those buses and ignore it. By placing the monument here, the city spoke volumes about their past, present and the near future. This monument symbolizes more than all the lives that were lost, it exhibits the immense progress the people of Berlin have made and their apparent choice to pick up the pieces and rebuild, while not brushing aside their history.
It is not quite clear what was intended by Eisenmen other than the fact that he wanted to break free from the structure of traditional monuments and he everyone to create their own meaning in the memorial, which is why seeing this work in person was so fascinating to me. I think the city of Berlin and the artist, went about this with a great mindset and did a fantastic job of tackling such a hard task of creating a Holocaust memorial in the city where most of the destruction began. By letting the people search for meaning and wrestle with it themselves there is much more depth and meaning in the work. It exposes the immense power and beauty of art that nothing else could come close to touching which is, to me, one of the most amazing things to be a part of in the world.
A great example that I’ve come across of this interesting interaction between an artist and their audience is the holocaust memorial in Berlin. The memorial itself is composed of dozens of rows of large concrete blocks of differing heights, loosely arranged from shortest to tallest. The ground which the stones are arranged on is uneven and forms a wave-like pattern heading backwards from the front of the memorial. One of the most interesting things about the structure itself is that there is no plaque or sign stating what it is, it is just a large structure taking up about a whole city block directly in the middle of where Berlin’s business and tourist districts intersect.
This structure was only finished 4 years ago, after the city went through a long process of deciding the appropriate way of tackling such an important monument, they settled on the idea of holding a contest. The winner, Peter Eisenmen, designed the memorial in this ambiguous fashion very intently, which is why it was selected as the winner. I was told that many people interpret the stones to be tomb stones of those who perished at the hands of the Nazis, while others seem to think they symbolize the rows of mindless soldiers involved in the horror of the holocaust. I found the most interesting explanation of the work to be the gradual incline of the stones to represent a sort of bar graph of how such a horrific event came to be. Specifically, the small leaps from anti-Semitic comments and beliefs, to discrimination, all the way up to mass murders in concentration camps.
There was a lot of controversy before the memorial was created because some people thought it would be more appropriate to provide a free shuttle to one of the near by concentration camps. After much consideration, the city decided to stick with the concept of a physical monument in the city because this way everyone in Berlin had to see it, they couldn’t chose to not get on one of those buses and ignore it. By placing the monument here, the city spoke volumes about their past, present and the near future. This monument symbolizes more than all the lives that were lost, it exhibits the immense progress the people of Berlin have made and their apparent choice to pick up the pieces and rebuild, while not brushing aside their history.
It is not quite clear what was intended by Eisenmen other than the fact that he wanted to break free from the structure of traditional monuments and he everyone to create their own meaning in the memorial, which is why seeing this work in person was so fascinating to me. I think the city of Berlin and the artist, went about this with a great mindset and did a fantastic job of tackling such a hard task of creating a Holocaust memorial in the city where most of the destruction began. By letting the people search for meaning and wrestle with it themselves there is much more depth and meaning in the work. It exposes the immense power and beauty of art that nothing else could come close to touching which is, to me, one of the most amazing things to be a part of in the world.
Organ Grinder
Heart Pounding Music
Garrett Lambur
We recently heard a special performance in the Strahov Monastery on the same organ that Mozart composed on. It was heart pounding, literally. When he used the pedals to create the massive chords the whole church began vibrating. The performance was moving and beautiful, drastic and impressive, and scary and awe-inspiring. I can understand why they use the organ within the Church, it makes a human being feel small before that amount of sound. Not only does it succeed in making a human feel small but it is music at the same time, not a tangible piece of art but nothing more than sound waves in the air. You cannot touch it but can only listen and feel it. The church was intelligent in using the organ to enforce the idea a human is small before God specifically within a church. It can create the Mysterium Tremendum that Otto identifies.
Otto also talks about where exactly in music that a human feels the most of the numenious. He states that there needs to be a pause in the music long enough to “hear the silence” (pg 70). He goes on to state that in Bach’s Mass in B minor the quiet structure that dies away pianissimo helps to create the mysterium. I believe that some of this is true. A piece can be made more impressive by making sure there is significant difference between soft and loud, this is done by making the quiet parts softer. As a player you reach point where playing any louder begins to make the instrument sound worse and lose it correct tone. Thus to make the louder sound louder without losing quality you make the quiet more quiet. But it is after this that I begin to disagree with Otto. A piece of music to me is at its most moving with the crescendo to an impressive chord. As with the Organ I felt most moved in a religious manner, whether it be mysterium or tremendum or both, when he was playing the massive chords that shook the church. I am not saying that during the quieter parts it is impossible to notice any mysterium tremendum but I usually feel more during the thundering parts. Some would say that it is right after this, when you can still hear the echo of the note setting in as it quiets down is more impressive. But as my past in playing music and being involved in those loud notes I view this time as time where you either hold your breath or catch your breath. During either my mind is not focused on the quiet setting in but on “thank you sweet sweet oxygen!” Some may disagree but personally I love to hear the massive overlaid chords played extremely loud and it is at that moment that the music most moves me toward whatever it may be.
Garrett Lambur
We recently heard a special performance in the Strahov Monastery on the same organ that Mozart composed on. It was heart pounding, literally. When he used the pedals to create the massive chords the whole church began vibrating. The performance was moving and beautiful, drastic and impressive, and scary and awe-inspiring. I can understand why they use the organ within the Church, it makes a human being feel small before that amount of sound. Not only does it succeed in making a human feel small but it is music at the same time, not a tangible piece of art but nothing more than sound waves in the air. You cannot touch it but can only listen and feel it. The church was intelligent in using the organ to enforce the idea a human is small before God specifically within a church. It can create the Mysterium Tremendum that Otto identifies.
Otto also talks about where exactly in music that a human feels the most of the numenious. He states that there needs to be a pause in the music long enough to “hear the silence” (pg 70). He goes on to state that in Bach’s Mass in B minor the quiet structure that dies away pianissimo helps to create the mysterium. I believe that some of this is true. A piece can be made more impressive by making sure there is significant difference between soft and loud, this is done by making the quiet parts softer. As a player you reach point where playing any louder begins to make the instrument sound worse and lose it correct tone. Thus to make the louder sound louder without losing quality you make the quiet more quiet. But it is after this that I begin to disagree with Otto. A piece of music to me is at its most moving with the crescendo to an impressive chord. As with the Organ I felt most moved in a religious manner, whether it be mysterium or tremendum or both, when he was playing the massive chords that shook the church. I am not saying that during the quieter parts it is impossible to notice any mysterium tremendum but I usually feel more during the thundering parts. Some would say that it is right after this, when you can still hear the echo of the note setting in as it quiets down is more impressive. But as my past in playing music and being involved in those loud notes I view this time as time where you either hold your breath or catch your breath. During either my mind is not focused on the quiet setting in but on “thank you sweet sweet oxygen!” Some may disagree but personally I love to hear the massive overlaid chords played extremely loud and it is at that moment that the music most moves me toward whatever it may be.
Monday, November 17, 2008
Organ as Mysterium Tremendum
BOOM. The first, thunderous chords resounded through the basilica and my body instinctively jerked. The "minor-keyed" opening coupled with the cold and fairly empty church frightened me, and I was instantly struck with a thought: “mysterium tremendum.” The beautiful organ at the Strahov Monastery continued to play, and I contemplated Otto’s ideas of the holiness of God as expressed through mysterium tremendum. Yes, the organ seemed to fit and I concluded that these grand organs in the great church basilicas were used to convey the numinous! Along with candles and incense, I really think the organ is another communicator of the holy.
Otto describes mysterium tremendum as an element of “awefulness,” of “absolute unapproachability,” “absolute overpoweringness.” It is wholly other, fascinating, and daunting. As I listened to the organ, I sat in awe of the tremendous instrument and the overpowering beauty created by the melodious singing of the pipes. The music of the organ seemed to fill the whole room, and as it moved between incredibly loud parts and quiet, more melodious sections, I continued to contemplate the tremendum of the experience. The sheer volume created a sense of wonder in me. The stanzas in a minor key conveyed the mysterious to me, and I think another aspect of mystery was present in that I couldn’t see the organist, nor most of the pipes. Even if I could have, however, I think it would have remained a mysterious element because it is difficult for my mind to fully comprehend how all these pipes of varying sizes create different notes, and how the small, ivory keys the organist plays control the entire instrument, which spans the width of the church!
Reflecting on the experience, the contrast between that church and my own church in America comes to mind. I think our less ornate, Protestant churches have their benefits, but they generally do not inspire feelings of creature-consciousness that follow an experience with the numen, as described by Otto. I have come to appreciate that aspect of the older European churches, and was delighted to find the organ –an instrument I have never been particularly fond of— to be an excellent revelation of the mysterium tremendum. I feel like it is a true expression of the numinous because the experience of hearing it played sent my thoughts directly to the mysterious tremendum and subsequently the holy, and there they remained throughout the duration of the magnificent music.
eks
Otto describes mysterium tremendum as an element of “awefulness,” of “absolute unapproachability,” “absolute overpoweringness.” It is wholly other, fascinating, and daunting. As I listened to the organ, I sat in awe of the tremendous instrument and the overpowering beauty created by the melodious singing of the pipes. The music of the organ seemed to fill the whole room, and as it moved between incredibly loud parts and quiet, more melodious sections, I continued to contemplate the tremendum of the experience. The sheer volume created a sense of wonder in me. The stanzas in a minor key conveyed the mysterious to me, and I think another aspect of mystery was present in that I couldn’t see the organist, nor most of the pipes. Even if I could have, however, I think it would have remained a mysterious element because it is difficult for my mind to fully comprehend how all these pipes of varying sizes create different notes, and how the small, ivory keys the organist plays control the entire instrument, which spans the width of the church!
Reflecting on the experience, the contrast between that church and my own church in America comes to mind. I think our less ornate, Protestant churches have their benefits, but they generally do not inspire feelings of creature-consciousness that follow an experience with the numen, as described by Otto. I have come to appreciate that aspect of the older European churches, and was delighted to find the organ –an instrument I have never been particularly fond of— to be an excellent revelation of the mysterium tremendum. I feel like it is a true expression of the numinous because the experience of hearing it played sent my thoughts directly to the mysterious tremendum and subsequently the holy, and there they remained throughout the duration of the magnificent music.
eks
Wednesday, October 8, 2008
"With hair the color of unripe hazelnuts..."
The face of Jesus is the ideal image of beauty. I can remember when I was a little girl of about 7, my church would host Christmas plays. Most of the youth group kids had long speaking roles, but being younger I was given the task of holding a picture frame. As the play went on, I remember being so proud to hold the picture frame stage right for the whole convocation to see: the face of Jesus Christ.
Much of my perception about the way Jesus looked was formed a this time in my life. I remember learning to memorize the Serenity Prayer in Sunday School, and how repeating those lines made me think of that picture framed painting of Jesus. The light from the top corner of the canvas shining down on His upturned face, as if he were seeing the light of God. He looks sinless and innocent; he looks as the portrait all Christians hope to resemble if not on the outside, then more likely on the inside- the soul: clean, pure, and with an open heart to receive the light of God.
I often found myself, during the movie, painting my own picture in my head with the words the various narrators use to describe the "Face of Jesus". Some of the phrases I found most useful in creating this picture were of his facial features. A man of "surpassing beauty", with "commanding blue/gray eyes". His hair is, "the color of unripe hazelnut; curly, dark and shining". With a "smooth, serene brow", his face is marked by a beard that is, "full, but not long". He is the figure of "simplicity adorned with maturity", he is "beautiful above the sons of men". When I found myself completely enveloped by this image, I realized that not only was I seeing Jesus as that pure face in my childhood, but I was seeing him as...
Jesus Christ: our Superstar through the ages.
The more I listened to the narrative “The Face of Jesus”, I realized that Jesus is most definitely quite the superstar in Christianity. He is the embodiment of everything wonderful and immaculate: a “Sheppard, miracle worker, philosopher, God, and man”. Jesus can make the “divine accessible and approachable”. This is the reason why nothing less than a perfectly divine artistic impression of Jesus will do. His image is less of a portrayal of His physical characteristics, but more about providing believers with a symbol of His image in which to model their lives.
According to Michelangelo in his attempt to portray such a being, he hoped to create something “both completely divine and completely human”. I have to ask myself over again whether or not I find this completely contradictory, and even possible. Does such a thing exist? Can it? And, in accordance with our sinful human lives, can we possibly hope to model ourselves in His image?
And I think of the 21st century, and after whom we hope to model ourselves. To me, the concept of creating a perfect divinely human recreation of what Jesus looks like is easier to grasp when I imagine him as a superstar. I ask myself, well who wouldn’t want to have shining dark locks, stunning eyes, a serene brow in times of desperation, and the light from the Father shining down on them in the face of the many trials and tribulations we must face? To be blessed with status and beauty- why shouldn’t we all just try to be like Jesus Christ?
Well, maybe it’s the trying that counts. After all, says a late narrator in the movie: “beauty was a way in which humans could seek God”. I think it’s arguably still a way in which people seek the Holy, or at least their idea of the Holy. For as long as we can see into the past, and for as long as we can see into the future, the perfect picture of Jesus will forever continue to be a nebulous concept.
Cheers to persistence.
Much of my perception about the way Jesus looked was formed a this time in my life. I remember learning to memorize the Serenity Prayer in Sunday School, and how repeating those lines made me think of that picture framed painting of Jesus. The light from the top corner of the canvas shining down on His upturned face, as if he were seeing the light of God. He looks sinless and innocent; he looks as the portrait all Christians hope to resemble if not on the outside, then more likely on the inside- the soul: clean, pure, and with an open heart to receive the light of God.
I often found myself, during the movie, painting my own picture in my head with the words the various narrators use to describe the "Face of Jesus". Some of the phrases I found most useful in creating this picture were of his facial features. A man of "surpassing beauty", with "commanding blue/gray eyes". His hair is, "the color of unripe hazelnut; curly, dark and shining". With a "smooth, serene brow", his face is marked by a beard that is, "full, but not long". He is the figure of "simplicity adorned with maturity", he is "beautiful above the sons of men". When I found myself completely enveloped by this image, I realized that not only was I seeing Jesus as that pure face in my childhood, but I was seeing him as...
Jesus Christ: our Superstar through the ages.
The more I listened to the narrative “The Face of Jesus”, I realized that Jesus is most definitely quite the superstar in Christianity. He is the embodiment of everything wonderful and immaculate: a “Sheppard, miracle worker, philosopher, God, and man”. Jesus can make the “divine accessible and approachable”. This is the reason why nothing less than a perfectly divine artistic impression of Jesus will do. His image is less of a portrayal of His physical characteristics, but more about providing believers with a symbol of His image in which to model their lives.
According to Michelangelo in his attempt to portray such a being, he hoped to create something “both completely divine and completely human”. I have to ask myself over again whether or not I find this completely contradictory, and even possible. Does such a thing exist? Can it? And, in accordance with our sinful human lives, can we possibly hope to model ourselves in His image?
And I think of the 21st century, and after whom we hope to model ourselves. To me, the concept of creating a perfect divinely human recreation of what Jesus looks like is easier to grasp when I imagine him as a superstar. I ask myself, well who wouldn’t want to have shining dark locks, stunning eyes, a serene brow in times of desperation, and the light from the Father shining down on them in the face of the many trials and tribulations we must face? To be blessed with status and beauty- why shouldn’t we all just try to be like Jesus Christ?
Well, maybe it’s the trying that counts. After all, says a late narrator in the movie: “beauty was a way in which humans could seek God”. I think it’s arguably still a way in which people seek the Holy, or at least their idea of the Holy. For as long as we can see into the past, and for as long as we can see into the future, the perfect picture of Jesus will forever continue to be a nebulous concept.
Cheers to persistence.
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