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I first heard about Charles Bradley about a week before I saw him at the Blind Pig, when I discovered a youtube video of Bradley performing the song ‘Why is It so Hard’ with the Menahan Street Band. The sweat beads on the perfomer’s face as he belts about the hardships of trying to make it in America, his powerful voice channeling pastgospel and soul legends. Born in Gainesville Florida, Bradley ran away from home at the age of fourteen due to poor living conditions, and lived on the streets for two years until enlisting in the job corps and training as a chef. A recently released documentary  on Bradley’s life, called ‘Soul of America,’ follows Bradley’s story, describing how he endured extreme poverty, life-threatening illness, and the murder of his brother. In 1997, after moving back in with his mother in Brooklyn, Bradley began moonlighting as a James Brown impersonator under the moniker ‘Black Velvet’ in local clubs and bars, where until he was discovered and signed by Daptone Recodrs. Daptone is a label known for their retro-soul revivalism, signing and producing artists who celebrate the feel of funk and soul music from the 1960s and 1970s (such as the renowned Sharon Jones). Since his discovery, Bradley has worked with The Menahan Street Band, releasing several songs co-written by guitarist Tom Brenneck on Bradley’s debut album in 2011.

This past Thursday, Bradley played at Ann Arbor’s The Blind Pig with a seven piece backing band billed as his ‘Extraordinaires.’ Bradley arrived onstage after enthusiastic keyboardist MC appropriately hyped the crowd, and burst into an hour and a half long set.

The Extraordinaries consisted of a tenor saxophone and a trumpeter, who exhibited their restrained yet synchronized dance moves while generally leading the band, an enthusiastic funk keyboardist, who MC’d while Bradley exited for a costume change, and a typically languid drummer and subdued bassist exchanged meaningful nods with each other, and two guitarists. The band was tight and high energy, with the outstanding horn section dominating the backups in the style of Sharon Jones’s backing band “The Dap-Kings’. Bradley himself appeared older and smaller in stature than in the videos I had seen, but he gave a highly energetic performance, complete with dance moves and outfits that he may have retained from his James Brown impersonation. But while his stage presence was dynamic, Bradley’s voice was truly the star of the show, a force of nature whose sheer soul and power has led critics to compare Bradley to Curtis Mayfield and Al Green. Bradley’s voice was was powerful in the small venue, and he interspersed songs with some with abbreviated story-telling, occasionally declaring – gospel-style, while the bass and drums still pulsed at an instrumental break– that we were not his fans but his brothers and sisters, or urging us to all find true love. He seemed truly connected to the audience, touched by the screams and cheers of the packed venue, and the fans reciprocated, reaching out to touch the singer, shake his hand, and exchange words.

The performance was dynamic, high-energy, and touching. The first song I heard of Bradley’s, Why is It So Hard, was also the singer’s encore performance. Though I had interpreted the song as a response to the hollow reality of the American Dream, or an ode to the traumas of Bradley’s life, the energy behind his delivery was overwhelmingly positive.

The show ended when Bradley spontaneously jumped off the stage and into the crowd, the Extraordinaires pounding out the chorus as the divo made his way towards the back of the venue, hugging fans and shaking hands.

These past couple of years have seen the commendable growth of the amount of women in the rap industry. I really began to take notice when Nicki Manaj started showing up on several of Young Money’s more popular tracks such as “Bed Rock” and Lil Wayne’s “Knockout.” This was a lot of talent and exposure for someone who hadn’t even released her own album yet. Not long after Nicki’s fame began to spread followed a handful of other young women who, little by little, started venturing into this male dominated music genre. Up until this point, the category of female rap had been a mostly one woman at a time kind of thing. Lil Kim and Missy Elliott were sort of the household names in female rap when I was coming into appreciation of the genre, and even then I mostly heard them on other (male) artist’s tracks.

When Nicki Manaj came along, there was a glimmer of hope that the exclusivity of the male rap world was opening up a door to women. Unfortunately, Nicki Manaj has had to forfeit a lot of her natural talent in order to fit into the pop world (the genre where women are allowed to flourish). Her gritty, risqué, and clever verses of her earlier days had to be sacrificed to mould her into the sexy, colorful, ideal of femininity that pop culture constantly produces and reproduces. Though the lure of pop fame is hard to resist, this did not hush the other female rappers out there searching to get their name out into the rap world. Not much later, Kreayshawn dropped her “Gucci Gucci,” Azealia Banks’ “212” blew up, and now we finally have Iggy Azalea’s “Fancy” playing on top 40 radio. I’m not saying I love all of these songs, I don’t, but it’s about time women were allowed to break the stigma that the genre of pop is the only place for female artists to find success. This means more than just rap. Blues, alternative, and punk/hardcore are all traditionally male dominated music genres. I commend all the women who have broken into the boys club that is subculture musical genres, such as “Queen of the Blues,” Koko Taylor and pop-punk lead vocalist of Tonight Alive, Jenna McDougall.

Unfortunately, it’s still hard for society to except more than one female and the media is pitting these artists against one another as if there can be only one, for example, female rapper. It’s that kind of logic that keeps carbon copies of the same girl circulating through the mass media. So, I task you this Summer to get out there and support female artists. Not one, not two, not as a feature in some male artist’s song, but as talented and diverse wealth of untapped talent.

In writing, a common complaint is suffering from writers block or the inability to write something meaningful or even to find a topic which inspires deeper thought. Since writing involves the creation of something from nothing often when writers block occurs nothing is created because there is nothing to be said.

In the world of performance art there are many times when a performance is done but nothing is said. Since the performers are provided with lines, music and blocking it is easy to simply go through the motions of the piece without looking into the greater meaning. Often in musicals and operas this ignorance is permissible as much of modern performance practice relies on spectacle rather than creating a connection between the written work, the performers and the audience.

For big budget venues their reliance on spectacle results in high quality performances which fill the houses because of the awe which million dollar sets, choruses of a hundred or more voices, dancers and technically brilliant singers inspires in the audience. Yet, for smaller companies who lack donors with deep pockets to supplement ticket revenue relying on spectacle is impossible due to monetary restrictions. It is these companies who are forced to say something with their performances or serve the stereotype that these “High Art Forms” are unrelatable to the masses.

To relate to the masses and make “High Art” relevant to modern audiences without big budgets and the crutch of spectacle, companies must find the meaning behind the words and notes on the page. It is only by finding this meaning that the audience will be moved, and will begin to develop a relationship of understanding with these smaller budget companies. Their productions will be just as, if not more powerful than those of the big budget theaters where spectacle fills their houses supported by interpretation. However, if these companies do not find something to say they will find that shortly there will not be an audience there to listen.

At least five times out of ten when I tell people I am an art history major, I would get the confused face from them and the recurring question:” So do you draw?” The confusion between art history and fine art is a plausible one because there seems to exist an assumption that art lovers are passionate about both the practice of making art and the theories/concepts in the history of art, and there are, indeed, many student who are more talented than me and can pursue a dual-degree in art&design and art history. However, for me, the studio art class, instead of the three-hour seminars and honor thesis class, appears to be the most intimidating class I need to take in order to fulfill the concentration requirements in art history, and that’s why I was too reluctant to worry about it and have been avoiding taking it until the last year before graduation.

It is not that I do not enjoy fine art practices at all. Actually, I always love making art. Fine art classes have been my all-time favorite among all the classes at school. I remember in elementary school, my art teacher would reward students who got five on all art assignments with a drawing of Digimon or Cardcaptor Sakura by her, which seemed to be in huge scale for me back then (actually about the size of a poster). This reward successfully motivated me to get fully engaged in every class and put huge efforts at all my drawing assignments. In middle school, I was fascinated by Japanese anime and manga. I watched so many anime and subscribed to multiple monthly MAG (manga, anime and games) magazines, and the idea of drawing my own comic naturally raised in my mind. I copied anime characters from anime posters and created my own cartoon characters. My dream to be a cartoonist evaporated with the increasing academic pressure as I entered high school. No more spare time to watch anime or read comics or magazines, but I soon realized another interest, graphic design, when I was making the class magazine. I spent hours on photoshop and pagemaker to design the magazine cover and to edit graphic illustrations in the magazine.

I have been wondering about how these passions gradually disappeared as I entered college and how I ended up keeping myself a respectful distance from the world of fine art. Being an art history major and being exposed to masterpieces over the centuries in classes seemed to have raised my standard for art makers in terms of their level of profession, and my hypercritical attitude, in return, also makes me more fastidious about myself when considering me making art. How can I, who is not in the art and design school and has got no artistic training before, be professional enough to make some satisfactory artworks? This logic seems convincing until I realized that the ultimate audience of artworks is actually the artist him/herself. Art historians may judge the aesthetic value of artworks, but the pleasure the artist get from the process of art-making could not be measurable by certain theoretical standards. In retrospective, the time I spent on polishing a drawing assignment, copying my favorite anime protagonist, and designing a magazine cover was really enjoyable and memorable. With this in mind, I finally get the confidence to reenter the world of art making and to start sketching another amateur drawing.