Category: Lifting Voices

Art in the Form of a Prayer Rug

sarahshu 1 Comment

“The carpet is very beautiful,” the Chinese shopkeeper at the dry cleaning kept saying as he handed me back the prayer rug. “It is,” I said as I thought to myself yeah it is pretty.

The prayer rug is a piece of cloth, sometimes a carpet that a Muslim places between the ground and themselves so that they can remain clean when performing a prayer.

When the shopkeeper mentioned the comment, then only did I realize that this piece of cloth I’ve been keeping around and praying five times a day on, is a piece of art. Its vibrant colors, geometric and symmetrical designs and soft texture combine to create a peaceful praying experience. I recall admiring and tracing the designs with my eyes as a teenager during long periods of prayer (admittedly, not focusing on the prayer). The beautiful ones always struck out to me, woven with complementing colors and aesthetically pleasing patterns.

One feature of prayer rugs is that it never features animals or living things on it. This is because of aniconism. Aniconism is the avoidance of images of sentient beings in Islamic art. Sentient beings include animals and human beings. This is interpreted from a belief Muslims hold that creation of living creations can only come from God as well as a prohibition of idolatry. Thus over the centuries, religious art has always excluded any use of human figures or animals. Therefore, Muslims artists turn to abstract floral patterns, geometry and calligraphy for inspiration. 

Another feature that is sometimes seen in prayer rugs is that either the Kaaba or a mosque can be seen. Kaaba is the shrine in the most important mosque for Muslims and Muslims direct their prayers towards the Kaaba. The Kaaba is associated with various prophets, especially Prophet Muhammad (peace be upon him).

When using a prayer rug, one is also suppose to orient the rug towards the direction of the Kaaba using the right side of the rug. In the first picture, the side of the mosque should be in the direction of the Kaaba, not the other way around. Prayer rugs also come in many colors and designs, from green hues to pretty pastels, making it impossible to choose just a boring one when you could get a prettier one (although more expensive).

Some prayer rugs tell stories too. Certain older designs from centuries back reflect patterns distinctive to certain tribes. Some prayer rugs are valuable depending on when it was produced, sometimes costing up to $300. Certain prayer rugs are displayed, deemed too precious to pray on.

In the end, this mundane everyday object is what made me think hm this too is art.

A prayer rug with the Kaaba in the center

  

(Picture credits: Google Images)

Trans Awareness Week: Informed Consent (comic)

Amy Fieldmouse 1 Comment

It’s just been Transgender Week of Awareness, so here’s a comic about something very important to me. My partner Cam is working on helping UHS switch to an informed consent model, and this will give you some information about what that means. Here’s the poster for the upcoming town hall meeting:

If this is something you also think is important, come to the meeting and show your support! If you can’t but you’re interested in this issue, I recommend reading up on informed consent and transgender healthcare, and spreading some awareness to help celebrate this week.

Thanks for reading!

Lucy Liu’s Little-Known Art Career

vle 2 Comments

I recently discovered, to my pleasant surprise, that actress Lucy Liu, a Michigan alum, is also a talented fine artist who previously worked under her Chinese name, Yu Ling. Under this alter ego, Liu has sold and auctioned her work for hefty prices up to $70,455. Working with painting, sculpture, collage, ink, and a plethora of other media, Liu’s detailed, intricate work calls upon themes of love, lust, and vulnerability.

Liu has had experience in the art world since her teenage years, and has been featured in both solo and group art shows across the globe for almost three decades. Her work is rich in color and texture, and deeply intimate–thus why she only revealed her true identity in a book a few years ago. Liu explains that “it was incredibly liberating… it gave me a sense of truth in my art and how it was viewed.”

One of Liu’s notable works of art is a collection of books called Lost & Found, which features cutouts filled with discarded found objects. She jokes that people make fun of her for salvaging scraps such as soda tabs or pieces of string for example, but uses these objects as aa invitation for reflection.

Book 24 of Lost & Found

Furthermore, Liu also creates intriguing erotic paintings, styled after the shunga Japanese art of the 17th century. Such paintings depict women kissing, engaging in intercourse, or simply connecting as humans. Her paintings, rife with dynamic brushstrokes and vibrant color truly show her versatility as an artist.

Adieu (Forever Goodbye)

 

You Are the Bridge

 

72 Works

(All images from Lucy Liu)

Navigating the White Gaze

Fareah Fysudeen 2 Comments

I’ve been thinking about the representation of marginalized communities in the arts a lot lately. My thoughts on the underrepresentation of POCs in American popular culture is slowly turning into an understanding of the misrepresentation of POCs in the little space we do get in the creative sphere. People with any understanding of popular “liberal” discourse are always pushing for more strong, leading, and nuanced characters on the big screen and in the bestselling novels– and so we get a black lead in Star Wars, a half-Korean teanager in To All the Boys I’ve Loved Before, and all-Asian cast in Crazy Rich Asians, a way to offset Islamophobia with a relatable Arab f-boy in Ramy. But something about this all still feels grossly unsatisfactory to me. Something is essentially off about these representations of POCs. 

To me, they still seem to be obviously whitewashed, catered to suit the image of POCs that white people are comfortable seeing, an image that sinks down to the level of a white audience and lays identity out on the table: this is what it means to be in an interracial relationship, this is what this foreign word means, this is how benign POCs are– see! They’re just like us! In an effort to be palatable, I think artists of color often water down their work and cater it to the whims of a white gaze. 

I think, of course, that it is important that we’re getting narratives about people of color made by people of color, of course– I cannot belittle the importance of all the works I’ve mentioned and they are continuing to complexify our politics of representation. We need a multiplicity of representation, so many that it mirrors our own complex and diverse experience, and dispels our monolithic perception– we need good, bad, poor, rich, suburban, inner-city, gendered, intersectional stories. Not one work of art can possibly do all the work to end racism or discrimination, because not one person of color is perfect. 

But sometimes, I think even artists of color have a hard time making their work authentic. I think they often perform authenticity as a way to prove to a white audience that they are equals to the WASP. For instance, Ramy, a show about a confused, hilarious, and relatable Egyptian-American Muslim in New Jersey tracks the highs and lows of his love life and his relationship with himself and his faith. But for a show that was so widely well-received, it made me cringe with annoyance. It was trying so hard to appease a white audience, trying to make Muslims seems “human” and “normal”– both of which de facto meant whitewashed. In the first episode, we see Ramy on a date with a girl who his mother set him up with, and he says, flirting, as they walk through the city sharing ice creams, her laughter interspersed throughout the monologue: 

Look, I know it was terrible, but the day the Muslim ban happened, I had a really good day. Like, personally, you know? It was just, like, one of the those days. Remember– the weather was great. I killed it at this meeting. I found a Metro Card that had $120 on it. That doesn’t happen! It was wierd, ‘cause I’m watching the news and this guy on TV is like, ‘this is a terrible day for all Muslim.’ I’m like, ‘well… not all Muslims.’

It’s certainly not outside the realm of possibility that a Muslim would say this, and it’s certainly not unfathomable that this is a likely scenario. But what makes it so lauded is that it seems to normalize Muslims, when in fact it just whitewashes them. 

I think we may have set the bar too low by being satisfied with POCs creating works of art. Though I don’t personally like Ramy and I think it actually damages perceptions of Muslims, I also think it needs to exist– but I believe ardently that it’s not enough to just have POCs make works of art and call it good. The white gaze is ever-present, even in works by artists of color, and it’s exactly the kind of work that gets picked up. There are so many movies, books, poems, songs that don’t get recognition, and that’s because those artists are entering their spaces as their own rather than formulating them based on the perception of white people. I think we should actively seek those out as a way of undermining the system from within.

Performing at YKB’s Bravado

Elizabeth S Leave a comment

“America: a melting pot where values are shared and cultures are blended. But not every town or city in the U.S. is inherently diverse, and I’m always going to look different than my friends back home.”

This is the start of a monologue titled: Half-Asian, All-American. The monologue was written and performed by yours truly as part of YKB’s fall showcase. Why this title? The monologue touched upon my identity as someone of mixed race. My mother is Chinese-Filipino, and my father is Caucasian. While I’ve learned to be proud of who I am, I wasn’t always.

I grew up in a predominantly white neighborhood. The racial and ethnic representation at my small Catholic elementary school was equivalent to a white canvas with a few pinprick dots of color. The representation at the public school I went to for middle and high school wasn’t much better; the school was yet another small institution nestled in a small town, where kids rode their tractors to school during homecoming week and you had to drive far from town to find a mall or movie theater.

While I’m grateful for the memories and friendships I formed at these two schools, they lacked the diversity that I’ve been blessed with at U of M (which isn’t even very diverse!). This meant that I had to break down barriers, answering questions that often reflected stereotypes. No, I wasn’t adopted. Yes, I was actually born in Michigan. No, I don’t speak another language. Yes, I eat french fries and ice cream. No, I don’t eat cats.

The monologue I presented reflected these experiences and the growth I’ve undergone to feel more comfortable with my identities. Growing up, coming from mixed race ancestry resulted in having feelings that I didn’t belong anywhere. Small eyes branded me as an outsider from the only country I’ve ever called home, but cultural differences divided me from my family in the Philippines. I never really talked about this before because I felt that no one in my small communities would understand, but coming to college has encouraged me to confront my fears and reach out to others. I’m currently developing a piece on “being mixed” with a peer in my drama class on race, and the YKB performance was a big step towards discussing the topic.

The show, Bravado, was YKB’s second ever fall showcase. Yoni Ki Baat (YKB) was founded as a U of M organization in 2006 as a platform for women of color to challenge various forms of oppression and share their stories through self-expression. Unlike the annual spring monologue show, the fall showcase featured a capped audience and “intended to create a platform for self-identifying Women of Color to be able to share vulnerable narratives in a more intimate environment.” This allowed for the sharing of highly personal or culturally taboo topics without the pressure of a gigantic audience. Besides giving me the opportunity to share my own work, the event allowed me to hear emotional and powerful stories from a variety of wonderful actresses and writers.

https://www.facebook.com/events/450697128901573/

The Book of Mormon Is Really Problematic

Fareah Fysudeen 8 Comments

I spent last weekend in New York City with a few of my friends, reveling in the much-needed break from the routine of classes and work and extracurriculars. In the last night of our trip, my friend and I found ourselves rushing through the baffling, disorienting, punchy landscape of Times Square, laughing and delirious, to secure a seat for The Book of Mormon eight minutes before the show started, got standing tickets, and waited eagerly to be beset with raucous laughter. 

I was laughing throughout the show. And so did the majority white audience, as well. The show is a raging satire about the incoherence of Mormon beliefs and practices, with songs ranging from critiques about their missionary quest and suppressed desires (“Turn it off/ Like a light switch/ Just go flick/ It’s our nifty little Mormon trick”) to Spooky Mormon Hell Dream and All-American Prophet. This musical is a hilarious and unflinching caricature of Mormons in America, digging deep into some of the inconsistent and disturbing consequences of the religion’s practices. The story follows two young missionaries, Elder Price and Elder Cunningham. To their dismay, they get placed in Uganda (hilariously contrasting Price’s ardent dream for Orlando, Florida). When they get there, they find a highly caricatured and stereotyped African city with people who say “fuck you” to god, where the only town doctor also has– as we’re always reminded to cue laughter– “maggots in his scrotum”, and where General Butt-Fucking-Naked wants to mutilate the genitals of the women in the town. Elder Price is appalled, tries to civilize the town, but leaves and loses faith in God, while Elder Cunningham (the dumb one) teaches them Mormonism all wrong, mingling it with Star Wars and fantasy worlds. The Ugandans believe they are true Mormons and to share their excitement, they put on a huge play to demonstrate their understanding of Mormon history, but because they were taught it incorrectly, we have a painful ten-minute song with All-American Joseph Smith jerking off to frogs, unsettling sexual innuendos, and something that resembles a minstrel show– but not to be feared! By the end of the musical, Elder Price and Elder Cunningham start their own form of Mormonism, and all the black people are Mormons in the end, again reinforcing the incoherence of the faith. 

But this musical also reinforces something else, and that is anti-black racism. It was hard for me to tell in the moment if the jokes were appropriate to laugh at– they were smart, raunchy, and it seemed to be in the position that we were laughing at everyone. Nothing was safe in the musical. The white people, the black people, the Mormons, the atheists. It was highly irreverent, and drove home its purpose: to show how silly not only Mormon practices were, but how generally blind religious practices that were pursued for ego and fame, and that strove to “civilize” others always backfired in the end. 

But The Book of Mormon only complexifies the white narrative, not the black one. By the end of the musical, we get a progressive critique about Mormonism– but they had to use African people in order to achieve that. They had to caricature Africa, reduce it down to the most obvious stereotypes: uneducated, gullible, oversexualized, impoverished. Against this setting, our understanding of Mormonism complexified and were challenged, even through the satire: we see that Elder Price is narcissistic, that Elder Cunningham is ignorant, that there are problems with repression and self-righteousness. But this wasn’t the case for the Africans in the musical. Their narrative remained caricatured and degraded, all the way until the end. There is no growth to our understanding of their existence in the play– they are there simply as a plot device to support the complexity of the white characters’. 

Image result for joseph smith american moses

A popular clapback is that it’s not only the black people that are caricatured, but also the whites! However, this doesn’t hold water– the musical literally reinforces the white savior complex because by the end, the Ugandans convert to the disformed form of Mormonism anyway. The white characters achieve some level of success in their attempt to “civilize” the Africans; and even though the musical makes fun of this success, it still seems to me like The Book of Mormon desperately wants to maintain the power balance from the white savior complex. 

I don’t regret watching the show, but after thinking about it for a week, I realized how uncomfortable I had been in the theatre as one of the only people of color there. This is a musical that white people can heartily laugh to– it’s the only time they get a pass for laughing at jokes about Africa because they are thinly veiled in the form of satire. But if you look any closer, the musical only reinforces the stereotypes it purports to repudiate.

(Image from Google Images.)