Farewell

I’ve been a blogger here for all four years of college. It’s given me a chance to see some cool shows, review a lot of music, and post disconnected thoughts. So thanks, blog. And thanks to all my readers out there, nobody. To sign off, here’s a song and a podcast and an upcoming event–three types of art I wrote about most over the past four years–for your pleasure. It’s been good, arts@m. thanks for listening.

 

Because new Kendrick is everything that ever needs to be:

 

Because Jake and Amir and Thomas are the funniest people I know:

 

Because these four ladies are rad-tad-dynamite-fist-waving-firecrackling-awesome:

https://www.facebook.com/events/1431301203848078/

Reflection

This past school year has been one of great artistic inspiration. Whether it be the talent on campus, the world outside of school, or the spark within ourselves, there have been many opportunites to learn and grow as art-lovers. My experience has been one more from the outside world. The many great minds and talents within the world is truly astonishing. It has opened my eyes to all that can occur from turning a thought into an inventive action.

I encourage the musicians out there to keep creating. Your lyrics and tunes are transformative and can take listeners to another place.

I encourage the actors/actresses/thespians to continue inspiring viewers through you passion. You are the well-crafted tools to creating stories that sometimes are hard for us to see.

I encourage writers to continue exploring the great dreams that are in your heads and in this world, and continue writing it down for us readers to marvel at for years to come.

I encourage the photographers/painters/sculptors to continue transforming visions in you mind and visions of the world into tangible objects. Your work is living proof that greatness is in the eye of the beholder.

I encourage designers to continue to be amazing, for you give us art to walk around in, art to scroll through our computers on, art to get lost in our video games in.

I encourage the producers/advisors/experts/dreamers/consultants to keep supporting and helping the great art that comes across your way. You are the backbone to every movement and continue to push these creators to be their best.

This school year for Arts Ink has been great, and I will see you all soon to see where this upcoming year takes us.

I’m Your Shirt

Until this week, I’ve never felt like I could relate to a shirt.

That may be one of the weirdest sentences I’ve every typed out that has been based completely in reality, but it’s true. Okay, so let me explain before I start getting a bunch of concerned looks. I think one of the coolest things about music is that it can make you experience things you’ve never felt before, can take you to places you’ve never been, and can capture emotions fundamental to the human experience. It is an endless playground for artists to continually redefine and reinvigorate the same emotions and narratives, and to make space for new ones.

I was listening to an album this week by The Belle Brigade, a sibling band formed by two of composer John Williams’ grandchildren, when I came upon their song, Shirt. Let me be clear – this song is actually, completely about a shirt. The whole song is about a shirt, but it is also a wonderful metaphor for feeling worn out and being taken advantage of by people and by love, and about finding strength in your resilience. It’s a wonderful gem about coming to terms with your struggles and with your weaknesses, and about taking ownership of who you are. It was a song I didn’t know I needed this week, but I haven’t been able to stop listening to it.

It’s so cool, and such a testament to the talent of musicians and the power of music when such a simple metaphor can make such a powerful statement.

Listen to Shirt on Spotify here!

Ode to Arts Ink

Okay, this isn’t actually going to be a poem or anything, I just don’t think I’ll ever find such an amazing, open, and enriching experience as blogging for Ink. Despite the hard work of my English professors to make me a better writer and thinker, my year and a half with this blog has grown my writing by leaps and bounds by allowing me to explore my passions and critically think about my everyday interactions with forms of art. I’m so sad to say that this will be my last post, as I am graduating in almost exactly two weeks.

 

 

 

 

 

Ink has allowed me to be an expert on whatever I want to be — from tattoos to trees to Manet and Picasso, I have been able to teach myself how to analyze all types of art and make them relevant to myself and hopefully my readers. Once I settle in wherever I end up, I hope to continue to blog in this way because I have never experienced such traceable self-growth in such a short period of time and I never want to stop exercising my critical thinking muscles and artistic impulses.

But enough blubbering already, there is so much wonderful art around us all of the time that I challenge everyone to embrace it, contemplate it, internalize it, and even write about it. The guidelines for this blog were simply to write art and write about art and it’s amazing to see where each Ink blogger took those instructions and follow all of our journeys of self-reflection and exploration of the wealth of the world. I can’t wait to see what the next group of bloggers will bring. Thank you Arts Ink for an amazing couple of years!

Opera vs. Musical Theatre

If I have not said it before let me make this clear: I love spectacle. I love the all inclusive nature of spectacle; how it combines singing, dancing, lights, sets, costumes – essentially everyone and everything into it’s world and leaves the audience agog at the sheer magnitude of the production. To many in the classical world, spectacle is a cheap trick which impeaches the purity of the music, yet, in the musical theatre world spectacle is a given.

Saturday night I attended the opening night of The Merry Widow at the Detroit Opera House presented by Michigan Opera Theatre and yesterday night I attended the final dress rehearsal of The Music Man at the Power Center presented by the University of Michigan Musical Theatre Department. As I sit here thinking about the pieces which I have seen this week, I cannot help but think about the 2/3 full opera house on opening night compared to a 2/3 full Power Center during a dress rehearsal that was only opened because every single other performance sold out weeks ago. As I sit here, I can’t help but wonder why.

Ignoring the obvious oversimplification that modern people do not like opera, and ignoring the factors which are beyond the scope of this blog post such as substantial differences in ticket prices, location and accessibility of the theatre, the use of foreign languages etc. I think the biggest problem opera has when “competing” with musical theatre is the perception of Park-and-Bark singers in unrealistic circumstances screeching about their lives for a minimum of 2.5 hours.

This perception is there for good reason as unfortunately, many opera productions turn out that way. And frankly, I think it’s because opera houses aren’t expecting enough from their singers.

For a “dying” art form, opera is oversaturated with singers deluded with notions of becoming the next Pavarotti and stuck with no back up plan, but thousands of dollars of debt. Most of these singers are incredibly talented. Most of them have good diction and are fluent (or at least conversational) in the languages they sing in. And most of them continue to barely make ends meet as they live gig to gig, supplementing their income by teaching the next generation of opera singers.

As with anything in life, when you have more people who want a position than you have positions available, you are able to ask more of the canidates. You can extend the requirements from a good voice to a great voice, from 1 semester of ballet (which did not do much more than have the singer realize how bad they are at dance) to years of dance training and Park-and-Bark singing to acting that makes you love and feel for the character. This is what musical theatre requires and I see no reason that opera should be any different.

Yes, it is a lot to ask of a performer. But it is a lot to ask of an audience member to spend $200 on a ticket just to see you sing. If it is only about the voice, as some claim, strip away the costumes and the sets and lower that ticket price down to $100. But if a performer wants to transport the audience to a different time and a different place, I cannot be sitting in the audience noticing your unpointed feet or floppy fish hands as you dance, or the dead expression in your eyes as you sing about how happy you are.

I love opera. I think it is a complete art form but so often this seems to be forgotten as Park-and-Bark infiltrates its way into otherwise stellar productions. If we as artists want the tradition of opera to strongly into the future, we must embrace spectacle just as musical theatre has or soon opening nights that play to 2/3 full halls will dwindle down to shorter runs and fewer productions.

On Deadlines

This is the final episode. The closing act. The last post.

I’m graduating in a couple weeks, so I’ll no longer be writing for Arts Ink. In the past three years, I’ve written 59 posts (this makes 60, which is an oddly even number). I’m not a sentimental person, but it was pretty sweet to get paid for something like this. Arts at Michigan is a good program, and I’m thankful for the opportunity I’ve had with them. Writing a weekly column about “the arts” was a means to exploring different forms of expression and an avenue to gain readership while at university. I’ve written on personal blogs before, but they lacked something that this satisfied: deadlines. Due dates are beautiful, terrible things. Every Wednesday or Thursday or whatever day of the week I was asked to post was a deadline. It kept me accountable.

A lot of people say that deadlines restrict art and creativity. That art “can never be finished” and that it “can’t be done until its perfect.” I don’t think this is true. Nothing is perfect. Man is inherently flawed, and anything he makes will therefore be flawed. That’s the beauty of art. It’s okay because imperfect things can still be finished. If perfection was the finish-line, God was barely at the racetrack. An artist needs a deadline. Without one, she will drive herself mad. She’ll keep adding to the piece until she has nothing left to give, but she’ll still find it imperfect. But if shown to others, they may be inspired by its beauty and deem it perfection. That inspiration can’t exist if the art is left undone, hidden by the artist’s insecurities. Deadlines force an artist to do her job.

Whatever line of work we do, deadlines exist. They may be our greatest enemies and we may demise them, but they ensure that the job is finished. We’re often dissatisfied with our product at the deadline, but we aren’t the audience to please. We are servants to art. Yes, we could only create that which we enjoy creating and not “sell out” to consumers, but we have to deliver irregardless of the subject matter. To create solely for oneself is mental masturbation—okay in moderation, but never in excess. We don’t have a right to the fruits of our labor. As artists, it is our job to produce. We are entitled to our work and the deadlines that come with it. Deadlines lift the yolk from our shoulders and relieve us from the toil. They let us start something new. To place “fin” at the end of a film or sign our names in the corner of a painting. Without deadlines, we’d never see the next two words.

The End.