Author: mceste

The arts have changed my life. They shape the way I think , speak, and live. Here are the top four reasons I’m thankful for them this year:
1.) They force me to try things I never thought I would try.
Growing up, I never dreamed that I would be able to live and study in cities across the country and the world. From Los Angeles to Chicago to New York, I have gotten to explore so many new places. The people I’ve met, the food I’ve tried, the experiences I’ve had surely would not have happened if I wasn’t dancing.
2.) I am constantly discovering new things about myself.
The arts constantly push me to be the best version of myself. I am constantly striving to be better than I already am, and in doing so, have discovered that I am capable of so much more than I ever imagined.
3.) They’ve taught me the value of patience and hard work.
Improvement doesn’t happen over night. Practice feels tedious after a while, and it’s easy to get frustrated when you feel like you’re not making any progress. I’ve had to learn that hard work takes time, and patience will help you reap those benefits.
4.) They’ve made me into the person I am today.
The arts inform everything about me: the way I dress, the way I speak, the way I think. I would not be the best version of myself without them in my life.

Middle C: the first note a student learns on the piano. The first note one hears, the first note one learns to identify. Geographically, sonically, visually. Home. It’s an important note, to say the least. It was the first note heard in a concert by The Knights that took place at 4 pm on Sunday in Rackham Auditorium, and the pitch that was sustained through the first piece, “Suite Upon One Note.” The suite was made up of three very different pieces: “Improvisation Upon One Note”, by Kinan Azmeh and Avi Avital, “Fantasia Upon One Note”, by Henry Purcell, and an excerpt from “La Camera Bianca” by Giovanni Sollima Viaggo. Three very different works from three different cultures, time periods, and backgrounds, all connected by a shared note and presented as one.
This idea of unity through a common language was present through the entirety of the concert. Joining the Brooklyn-based ensemble were two virtuoso musicians: Israeli mandolin player Avi Avital and the Syrian clarinetist Kinan Azmeh. Their influence was felt through the concert, as the program blended music from the classical tradition, Middle Eastern cultures, and jazz. On the Knights website, the organization notes that “We are serious about having fun. We thrive on camaraderie and friendship. We cultivate a collaborative environment that honors a multiplicity of voices.”
In today’s political climate, a concert presenting two accomplished, well-known musicians and music from the Middle East inherently feels like a statement. Although it was never addressed by the Knights, the statement that seemed to be made with the concert was that their differences as musicians pulled them together even more. Rarely is Azmeh’s “Suite for Improvisers and Orchestra,” based off of sounds that remind him of his hometown in Syria, heard on the same program as Bach and Schubert. This diversity in work is important: in playing works by Bach and Schubert, the Knights paid tribute to a shared classical musical background. Presenting works by Avital and Azmeh that were partly based in improvisation recognized and celebrated the individuality and virtuosity of the music and character of each other’s backgrounds and cultures.
These ideas are all based in the founding values of the Knights: they say that they are “musicians…who come from a deeply rooted tradition but are eager to look beyond those roots and embrace new means of expression.” Ensembles like the Knights and concerts like Sunday’s are increasingly important today. They encourage this idea of a shared “Middle C” in the audience; a shared sense of home and humanity present in each person. These musicians are not only virtuosic in musical ability, but in creating a community within themselves and the audience that can only be described as warm, inviting, and inclusive: three ideals to strive for in today’s world.

The Thrill of it All, Sam Smith’s new album, was released on November 3. His sophomore record is a fourteen-track, forty-nine-minute journey through one of Smith’s favorite topics: heartbreak. As with his first album In the Lonely Hour, The Thrill of it All first and foremost features Smith’s voice, forgoing the electronic beats and synthesizers popular in music today. Smith is accompanied by a piano and supported by a choir, creating a lush soundscape in which he cries. His lyrics are sad, self-pitying, and melancholic, and his melodies both predictable in their tone color and astonishing in their virtuosity.
While the overall color and feel of his two albums might feel very similar, the way in which Smith deals with his subject matter is very different. In the Lonely Hour was very much a record of self-reflection. His songs were about Smith and his own experiences, his own feelings, his own loneliness. While this is holds partly true in The Thrill of it All, Smith expands his definition of heartbreak: he still sings about pining after an unrequited love and losing a love, but also addresses issues of acceptance of the LGBTQ+ community and feeling hopeless in regards to current events and disasters.
For example, in Smith’s song “HIM”, Smith tells the fictional yet relatable story of a young boy from Mississippi coming out to his father. He sings both to his biological father and his “Holy Father,” which might be assumed to be God because of Smith’s strong Catholic background. This song is especially important in this album because in In the Lonely Hour, Smith was very careful not use any pronouns when speaking about another person. He wanted to be known as “Sam Smith the singer who happens to be gay” and not “Sam Smith the gay singer.”
In a New York Times profile published two days before the release of Smith’s album, Taffy Brodesser-Akner writes that

“He [Smith] realized two things. One was that he was ready to make a second album. The other thing was that coming out as gay wasn’t enough. He now understood that every visible gay person still had a leadership role. He now understood that he wasn’t operating on his own, but that he lived in context to a community whether he’d realized it or not. No, having come out as a gay singer, he realized it was now time to come out as a gay man.”

This realization that he, as a public figure, had an important voice and a responsibility to use it is present through the whole album. His songs are still catchy and relatable; his first single “Too Good at Goodbyes” is reminiscent of “Stay With Me” and “I’m Not the Only One.” However, his goal on this album seems to be to reveal his own personal feelings in his work rather than create work to fit a generic, sad-pop-ballad mold. That realization is a solid step forward for Sam Smith, and allowed him to create a decent sophomore album. His sound may be the same, but it is on the road to change and ultimately growth.

On Saturday, October 28, I had the opportunity to watch Manhattan-based Ballet Hispanico perform at the historic Detroit Opera House. Their triple-bill program featured works made exclusively by women and told politically-charged narratives of those women’s experiences. All three pieces, beginning with “Linea Recta” by Annabell Lopez Ochoa, followed by “Con Brazos Abiertos” by Michelle Manzanaeles, and “Catorce Dieceiseis”by Tania Perez-Salas, were intelligently composed, beautifully designed, and incredibly danced by the company’s fifteen dancers.

The importance of an exclusively-female program is easily overlooked. At first glance, the dance world can seem to be a women’s world. Dance studios, classes, and companies are always looking for more boys and men to recruit and hire, enticing them with scholarships and free tuition. And after all, the legendary George Balanchine once said that, “Ballet is Woman.”

Yet, according to the New York Times, in 2016, the New York City Ballet performed 58 ballets in its season that were all choreographed by men. The Royal Ballet in London has not commissioned a woman choreographer in over a hundred years, and the Bolshoi Ballet in Russia only had one woman work on a single ballet in its season. In a different article about author Rupi Kaur’s work, New York Times writer Tariro Mzezwa concluded that “Art by women and art intended for women can be derided as common, popular and unsophisticated.” Each of the three works that were performed on Saturday night serve to challenge that statement.

“Linea Recta” by Annabell Lopez Ochoa opened with a striking image of a woman in a bright red dress. Her long, ruffled skirt swirled behind her as she started dancing, first as a soloist, and then with four men. She whirled and stomped, kicked and leaped, leading the men around the stage and then gesturing the other women to join her. United in their strength and individuality, the piece highlighted the strength in each dancer, as well as their willingness to give in to each other to create a stronger whole.

“Con Brazos Abiertos” by Michelle Manzanaeles dealt with Manzaneles’s experiences as a first-generation Mexican-American and the images and stereotypes that went along with that label. Utilizing a diverse score from bilingual spoken word to Radiohead, Manzaneles created an intimate look into cultural dichotomies that are impossible to reconcile. Perhaps the most powerful image in the piece was that of a single female dancer simply lying onstage, the majority of her body covered under a giant sombrero. Given today’s current political climate, the image was powerful and heartbreaking in its simplicity.

The final work, “Catorce Dieceisies” by Tania Perez-Salas, was the most contemporary of the three. There was no obvious Latino influence: the costumes were all flesh-toned and form-fitting, the score was Baroque. Yet, that choice in of itself is a strong assertion. In an Interview with the Detroit Free Press, company dancer Melissa Fernandez said that, “In the 1970s, it was kind of taboo to be Hispanic and a dancer…today, we can be dancers. And choreographers…it was the expression of a contemporary female voice. A female who happened to be Hispanic.” Fiery yet delicate, wild yet controlled, virtuosic yet human, Ballet Hispanico’s performance was one to remember.

Superhero movies are oftentimes an overlooked movie genre. The majority of them are, at best, semi-predictable, unrealistic, cheesy films that are basically retellings of the same story over and over again: the underdog triumphs over the villain, learns an important and life-affirming lesson, and makes it back home in time to finish his homework and eat dinner. Yet, the superhero genre continues to flourish and grow today. I believe, as a self-proclaimed superhero fanatic, that there is an ineffable sense of satisfaction when watching a normal, everyday human become super. Within every semi-predictable, unrealistic, cheesy film I consume, I am able to see some part of myself in the hero on screen. Humanity is what keeps superhero movies relevant today.

As with every piece of art, superhero movies have their flaws. There has always been a blatant lack of female superheroes present within every fictional universe and world. More often than not, the female presence in superhero comics, television shows, and movies has been reduced to love interest, damsel in distress, or nerdy sidekick. It is important to note that in the last few years, female superheroes such as Wonder Woman, Supergirl, and Black Widow have risen to prominence in the film and television worlds. This emergence of strong, powerful women is not to be downplayed: these are necessary steps forward in breaking the stereotype that only men can be super. However, I feel that there is a lack of humanity to each of these women and how they are portrayed.
Obviously, there has to be a certain lack of human-ness in every superhero: that is what makes them super. However, I question the lack of human-ness present in the fact that these women are wearing high heeled boots and leather cat suits to fight off evil. I question the fact that each of them are tall and leggy with incredible hair, and each of their superhero personas are very scantily clad in spandex or a mini-skirt or both. I question the fact that these women’s costumes seem to show off her body more than assist her in getting her job done. Logistically, chasing a villain would simply be easier in tennis shoes and leggings rather than a skirt and heels. I question the fact that it is socially acceptable to over-sexualize superwomen, because presenting superwomen in an overly-sexual light gives young girls and women the impression that to be powerful, strong, and respected, your body has to be on display. It teaches young boys and men that powerful women can and should look and dress a certain way.
This is not to say that male superheroes are perfectly depicted. An argument could also be made that supermen are often clad in tight, full body outfits like their female counterparts. However, men’s costumes never seem to be compromising a superhero’s ability to do their job in order to show a little more skin. Their legitimacy and place in the world as a superhero is rarely questioned, and their ability to be a superhero is rarely based on how they look. In fact, many male superheroes are masked: Spiderman, Batman, the Flash, Green Lantern, and Captain America, among others.
Film and television are arguably the most pervasive forms of art today, especially because of the rise of the screen age. These characters have the power to inspire a wider demographic of people than any other art form. I believe that social change lies within the power of such art and media. I therefore hope to one day see a female superhero that is super simply because of her humanity on the big and silver screens.