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Russian Woodsmen Revival Style

Sarah Ogar Leave a comment

Modern. Whimsical. Organic.

Where on earth would you find a place that fit those descriptors?

In the Russian village of Nikola-Lenivets in the national park of Urga, that’s where.

It’s the village where Nikolai Pollisky decided several years ago to create gargantuan landscape art that can be seen and marveled at from great distances, and that he now creates for architectural festivals and installations all around the world.  Once an abandoned farm collective where persistent vodka use had all but wiped out the villagers, Nikola-Lenivets, has now found rejuvenation through artistic collaboration. Pollisky himself is a white-bearded, t-shirt and suspender-wearing artist who would find himself right at home in a tavern amongst groups of lumberjacks and carpenters.  He’s a far cry from the tight-suited, salon coiffed metropolitan art types that perpetuate the myth that good art should be inaccessible to some.  Pollisky on the other hand, believes that “art should be understood without any explanations.”  He pays his villagers for their contribution, giving them both life and a practical livelihood.

Here are a few of Pollisky’s collaborative creations.  Some look like alien constructions, while others harken back to a time of nymphs, elves, and ancient tribes.   Yet, there are others that wouldn’t be out of place at MoMA with their sharp edges and refined lines.  All the pieces are united by their landscape and the inescapable naturalism that oozes through their materials.

Image Credits: http://bloodandchampagne.com/images/bloodandchampagne5062.jpg, http://russiatrek.org/blog/art/art-park-nikola-lenivets/

Jouissanceful Goose Bumps

Taylor Leave a comment

There are many things I love about growing a beard / facial hair.
1) It looks damn good;
2) I look even older (sophisticated and sexy) than I already do and am mistaken for a grad student (since they’re all sophisticated and sexy #lol), even in my own classes (awkward);
3) My face has a built-in blanket for the cold, terrible winter months; and,
4) Face goosebumps are the best goosebumps.
However, these face goosebumps (not facial goosebumps because that sounds too weird) only happen in rare, beautiful occasions. “Rare” in that I don’t get myself to concerts that often and even then, only classical music gives me full body goosebumps where I feel like I have stopped living and am inhabiting transcendence itself. Aka that means nothing but I feel everything.
Last night I was able to attend the UM Symphony Band’s first seasonal concert at the majestic Hill Auditorium. Every time I step into Hill I forget that I pass it daily as I sprint, late, to class; I forget how I hate how big society is (although I do love cities . . .); I forget that I live 3 minutes down the road and that I can touch most ceilings with my hand if not head. Going to this venue is going-out in its finest sense–I dress up, cleanse my mind, and the seat I choose becomes my reason for living for 2-4 hours. I don’t have to worry about my thesis, I don’t have to think about my paper due tomorrow (now today), I don’t have to cope with dramatic boys, I don’t have to do a lot of things. The only thing I have and want to do is to sit and listen, absorb and reflect, and be in a state of becoming-child (#Deleuze).
Hill Auditorium is itself distracting when inside it. It’s so big. Every time I choose my seat I stare all around myself and I think that I need to update my glasses prescription. I think about how the space that I can’t discern is going to be filled with music and its mind-blowing. It’s overwhelming. It makes me . . . get goosebumps on my face. (First case, amazing buildings and space.)
Then I remember that this concert is free. (Second case, I love free things–face goosebumps follow realization.)
AND THEN I REMEMBER THEY ARE ABOUT TO PLAY MY FAVORITE PIECE, movement two from Bernstein’s Jeremiah Symphony, “Profanation.” (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ZGVRaUj-YLk) GOOSEBUMPS GOOSEBUMPS GOOSEBUMPS.
Every (other) song the band performs is great. It’s rare that I listen to new (classical-ish) music and fall in love. There was so much love, however. And then, of course, they decide to play the Bernstein post-intermission and I feel as if I will simultaneously pee myself, vomit, and pass out all until the beginning notes of this masterpiece are played. Since I’ve heard this piece before live (and have studied the score . . .) I know which parts are difficult and every time the trumpets don’t frack a note my heart starts to soar higher. Every time everyone is syncopated at the same time I feel myself letting out an “AHHHHHH” and I fall deeper into my seat as if the earth is opening up just to save me from this moment of pure joy.
I never want it to end and for me it never will. This concert is everything I wanted. It acts as an escape from some parts of life and lets me relax and involve myself in music. Being in music is all I really ever want. And on these select nights, my dreams do come true.
[To think that my face goosebumps could be also called face goosepimples. I cannot.]

Do Not Go Near The Dog Park

Justin & Ersun Leave a comment

For many moons, I have wished to indulge myself in the realm of podcasts. For many moons, I have waited for the perfect podcast to jar my ears into listening. For many moons, I have looked up at the floating object in the sky and wondered what it thought about me. Up there, watching. Always watching.

Recently, my ears were robbed of their podcast virginity by the radio show of a fictional town–Night Vale. Welcome to Night Vale is a free podcast production by Commonplace Books. Narrated by Cecil Baldwin and written by Joseph Fink, it is an extremely strange but thought-provoking series of supernatural events occurring in the obscure desert town of Night Vale. The series features announcements about the local community, from weather reports to updates about the Sheriff’s Secret Police. It is saturated in dark humor and has a mysterious and haunting tone that continuously triggers the listener’s imagination. There are many tales of the “Hooded Figures” that lurk around town, participating in many unusual activities. The conversational voice of Cecil, the narrator, makes the absurd announcements of fantastical activities seem commonplace, just like one would report the score of a high school soccer game. What many would call conspiracies in this world are daily news announcements in Night Vale. The series is littered in stories of faceless old women in the corners of living rooms, glowing storm clouds that rain dead beavers, and floating cats in public restrooms. The surrealist nature of the show leads to a bottomless well of interesting tales that fails to disappoint.

When I first began listening, I was immediately told about the new dog park that was built in Night Vale and how it was a gathering place for Hooded Figures. Almost as instantly, I was told to not go near the dog park. While this peculiar statement was not only intriguing, as I wished to discover the dangers of going near the dog park and what was exactly going on there, but I was immensely drawn into the town, for I was addressed directly as one of the townspeople. This direct connection to listeners is a risky move, for it lends itself to vulnerability by making assumptions of the audience and setting up an expectation from then on. The expectation that Night Vale embraces is the acceptance of the unknown. It requires listeners to cope with the ridiculous and revel in that mystery. Like a conspiracy theory, the show lends itself to series of loose facts and speculations and then extrapolates upon them to illustrate the things we do not fully know or understand. In this sense, it encourages its audience to have an open mind and look forward to hearing about something new, regardless of its base in reality.

In a sense, the podcast is a petri dish of ideas. The story-lines, told almost like a series of Twitter updates, are incredibly unique, and they offer a novel insight into many facets of everyday life. For instance, the daily “weather report” is a great collection of music–of many different genres and independent artists–none of which I had listened to previously. This unlikely exposure allowed me to discover new interests in music and inspired me to explore more niche genres. Night Vale is a playground for the mind. It encourages an untamed imagination and willingness to not only accept, but embrace, the unknown.

If you wish to take a listen, beware.

The Art of Wedded Bliss

Sarah Ogar Leave a comment

Last year, on July 7 my sister got married.  It was fun.  It was fabulous. And it was most definitely themed.  In fact, one of the first things that people asked my sister when they found out she was engaged was, “So what are you colors? And have you picked a venue?”

In essence, if you had to pick something (besides you and your fiancee, who this whole shindig is about) to encapsulate your nuptials, what would it be?

After a lot of trial and error, my sister eventually found a venue, picked her colors (pink and green) and created a fairytale wedding at Meadowbrook Hall in Rochester.

The Best Part!!
The Best Part!!

One year later, with my family still recovering, my older brother pops the question to his significant other and we are back in the throes of the wedding industry.  Theirs will also be fairytale, but with slight alterations.

I could be a curmudgeon and talk about the commodity fetish in relation to all things wedding, but instead I think it is worth acknowledging the undoubtable aesthetics of weddings.  They are almost like grand architectural, musical, floral feats of greatness, are they not?

This ‘Peter Pan-themed Wedding’ on Buzzfeed is one that will knock your stockings off.  Time and time again I am amazed at the small details that create weddings.  They are often like huge bacchanalian paintings but with sound and more dancing and (sometimes) more wine.   And while you’re at one of these things, it’s almost hard to appreciate the setting, when the thing itself (the marriage ceremony) has all of your attention.

But when considering a wedding as ‘art’, I proceed with caution only because it is undoubtedly one of the most profitable industries out there.  If wedding planners and event coordinators are ‘artists’ then they have definitely sold out to the Man (or the Woman as is often the case).

In one of my classes, we are examining the theme parks of DisneyWorld in all of its fairytale glory.  I plan to focus my research on Cinderella’s Castle and Disney Weddings*.  If you want to talk about themes, there is no theme so ubiquitous as the fairytale and no conglomerate more suited to this theme than Disney Weddings.

*When adding the Disney Wedding link, their site was so beautiful and so enchanting, I was almost tempted to click the ‘Let’s Begin Designing Your Disney Wedding’ button, even though I am not engaged, going steady, or casually dating anyone at the moment  :/

“Icona’s Ball”: insight or violence?

Taylor 1 Comment

I know Icona Pop through frat party spectacle’s, angsty/mainstream dance parties, clubbing, working out–basically every occasion of my life can be narrated by, “I DON’T CARE, I LOVE IT.” Or really just “I don’t care . . . .”
Due to the nature of this song, I didn’t expect much from Icona Pop’s newest song/video combo, “All Night.” I was looking for another outlet for my “poor” angsty privileged self where I can thrive in my suburban ennui, hiding in my one bedroom apartment inside of my full-size bed. But I was pleasantly surprised and intrigued, and full of feelings. I love song-screaming and I love new anthems but there were just so many damn feelings, so little time. I’ve watched the video over and over and I can’t tell how exactly I feel.
On one hand, the lyrics make my heart beat faster and I feel that it magically matches the video. Now while the “official video edit” (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0FWRT9C9XMQ) is  palatable for the average YouTube viewer estranged from queerness in general (coming in around 3 minutes), the better “official extended video” (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=LNuNJLlq8eQ) is what really packs the punch–around 5 minutes of personal narratives, the names of the participants (NAMES! SUBJECTS! HUMANS!), and glimpses of people in and outside of the Ball. Lived experience oozes through the pop anthem’s video and it’s as if you’re being sprayed with a bottle of champagne. It’s pretty magical.
But is Icona Pop really paying tribute? And even if they intend to, are they really respecting and not exploiting the Ball scene, queer people, people of color, queer people of color, etc.? Is this trying to reach an audience (obviously) just to raise more profit and have more sales? DOES EVERYTHING STILL SUCK?
I support the Ball scene getting publicity if it’s what it wants. I support all of them having their shining moment for not only the people in the room but the 270,000+ people that have not and will probably never go to a Ball. I support Ball Culture.
But on the other hand, I feel guilting going into the space as a viewer without any real interaction with the humans whose lives depend on the Ball for happiness, community, and solidarity. My gaze is different from the average viewer because I’m queer but my other salient, privileged identities still hold when viewing it. Part way through I feel like I’m watching this beautifully orchestrated video that Capitalism has created: something that seems inclusive of Ball Culture in all of its queerness and diversity but something that is still a bit terrifying. I feel like this video is equating my life with those of the participants and say that I, too, can have this shining day. While this isn’t a bad message I feel like a message of equality is not what I’m looking for. I’m looking for a respectful celebration of difference where I get to celebrate people. That often does not include me, and that’s ok.
The extended cut makes the video purely magical. Although it is no “Paris is Burning” nor is it intending to be, the video portrays the hope and joy found within Balls and I think Icona Pop really show that through their intense, repetitive lyrics and rhythms that there is no room for any option besides a constructed paradise, a better life.

Authorial Intent and ‘The Gershwin Initiative’

Sarah Ogar Leave a comment

If you haven’t heard of it, The Gershwin Initiative is a new collaboration between the Gershwin family (most famously known for George and Ira) and the University of Michigan.  Specifically, U of M has already received the Gershwin Steinway piano, which was made in 1933, purchased in 1934, and played for decades by one of America’s most musically contributive families.

The Gershwin Piano (UM School of Music)
The Gershwin Piano (UM School of Music)

Piano gifts aside, a more critical reason for the collaboration is the creation of a critical edition of the Gershwin songbook.  U of M has been granted full scholarly access to the works, including early versions and supplementary notes to all the pieces.

This may not seem like much to the average music listener, but to put it in comparison, it would be like receiving access to all of Shakespeare’s diaries and sticky-notes (if they had sticky notes in the 17th century) with his comments and thought process laid out in one collection.

It is kind of a big deal.

As an English major and self-proclaimed bibliophile who reads copyright information and dedications before delving into its contents, I am frequently made aware of the editorial contributions of many people even with books written by one author.  And once a book has gone to print, there is also the fact that new editions arise within years (and sometimes months or even weeks).  Decisions are made and contents can be drastically altered.

But I don’t often think this way towards music.  Music is such a prescribed art form, with its rhythmic and timing constraints.  Classical or orchestrated music in particular, always sounds so rigidly controlled.  The musicians have no free reign to alter the music if the conductor does not alter his commands.  And the fact that there can be such varied interpretations of this kind of music befuddles a music neophyte like myself.

Needless to say, I cannot wait to attend one of the accompanying Gershwin events in the coming months.  There is no denying the Gershwin influence on American opera, orchestra, and jazz.  I’ve never heard a Gershwin piece that didn’t make me want to return to a classier, swankier time. In fact, my first Ann Arbor Symphony performance viewing included ‘Cuban Overture’ which stayed in my head for weeks afterwards.   Here’s to musical compilation and collaboration!