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This week one of my professors sent my class on an exploration through the art museum. Our assignment was to find a work of art that we felt represented the work of Emily Dickinson in some way, write about it, and then gather together and discuss our chosen piece of artwork. Walking through the UMMA’s collections with such a specific goal in mind was a very different experience from my usual wanderings through the museum. It forced me to really look at the art and try to see more in it than just something pretty hanging on a wall.  The assignment also took me in directions I didn’t expect to go.  I had anticipated finding something that I felt represented a tone or scene in one of Dickinson’s poems, but instead found in Simon Dybbroe Møller’s “BRAIN I” a physical representation of the process of working through a Dickinson poem.

When reading a Dickinson poem, it’s easy to try and oversimplify what’s happening in the poem – to simply give it a passing glance, recognize the obvious, and move on. But, slowing down and really examining the poetry nearly always reveals possibilities that were previously unapparent in that initial cursory glance. You’ll discover obstacles and nuance in the poetry that didn’t seem to exist before, because they were transparent or un-seeable in a superficial reading. This is the experience that Møller’s exhibit brought to life for me. When I first walked in to the exhibit, I didn’t feel that there was anything to see, but as I spent more time in the exhibit and really examined it, I began to notice details that weren’t initially obvious, for example, two paintings in the exhibit are identical (one a miniature of the other), the modeled layout on the television is actually an exact replica of the exhibit, and there is a painting hiding under a pile of boxes. Each of these details were hidden to me until I took the time to pause and really look around me. Even the clear walls in the exhibit held meaning for me in relation to Dickinson, because they felt like those hidden obstacles that one can discover in Dickinson’s poetry – though it’s difficult to see the walls, they’re just as impossible to walk through as an unmissable, solid plaster wall.

This project was such a unique experience that I would love to try it again with a different writer, or perhaps someone or something completely different, in mind. If you get a chance, you should give it a try.  You might be surprised at what unexpected comparisons you can draw.

This week, I have no words for you that could top the words of Marvelle, one of the students in my creative writing workshop at Gus Harrison Correctional Facility, to whom this post is dedicated. He’s a sweet guy with a good sense of humor; I’ve never seen him without a smile. And so, without further delay, I present you his inspirational piece, “This is a Story about My Everyday Life.”

“I enjoy life, no matter what my conditions are. I smile everyday, because some people did not wake up to smile. I am thankful; I love my life. Even though there’s not money, honeys or freedom right at the moment, prison is a part of my life and there is nothing I can do to change it. I will always remember what I done. I have did a lot of right out of life and some wrong; my right and wrong on a scale right now today is 75 percent right and 25 percent wrong, which is marvelous to me and millions of others.

I’m one of a kind, a person that is not forgotten. Every day I’m learning more about how to love instead of hate. Life is not easy, definitely when living in a city like Detroit. I see so much every day — people dying, crying, struggling — trouble just seems to find some people. Me, I think of millions of people every day. Why, I have no idea — it’s just something I do. It does not stress me out — it makes me happy, because I can think of millions of people, some people probably can’t think of a hundred people a day. This is unbelievable, what goes through my mind day to day.

I am somebody.”

If you have any comments or any questions for Marvelle, please don’t hesitate to reply — I will make sure to relay any feedback to him during our next class period.

– Molly Ann Blakowski

Yesterday I had the pleasure of getting up close and personal with one of UM’s most beloved a cappella groups – THE FRAIRS! The guys who are known for musically musing about North Face Girls and Seasons of Beer visited my dorm for a quick preview of their upcoming concert and it was fantastic! Not only did they perform some serious tunes (one was about how mundane life is – especially good to hear during preparations for finals), but they also sang one of my new favorite tunes, Facebook Me. However, in addition to displaying their vocal virtuosity, these boys showcased their smooth moves. Yep, they can sing AND dance (can’t you hear the girls of MCB swooning in the background?!) Suffice to say, it was a highly entertaining way to spend an evening and I definitely suggest that you all pencil in their concert this Friday night (8 pm at Rackham) into your busy schedules. Yeah it might cost a couple of bucks, but at least it will be more culturally satisfying than watching reruns of the Jersey Shore on TV.

Continuing with my art in landscape blogs, I thought it would be nice to talk about sculpture in the landscape that is on our campus.  Therefore I will focus on the sculptures outside of the University of Michigan Museum of Art.  There are seven outdoor sculptures outside of the museum.  There are six different artists with various backgrounds and impressive histories.

The first sculpture is called Shang by Mark di Suvero built in 1984-85 out of steel.  The sculpture can be interpreted as a Chinese character as well as a Japanese Shinto temple.  A lot of people swing on the moving chair.  The interactive quality of this sculpture makes Shang highly appealing.

Moving on to our second sculpture, there is Orion by Mark di Suvero in 2006 out of steel.  This structure is a play of angles and line seen from any side.  The artist painted the steel red to contrast with the blue sky.  This is the most pronounced structure surrounding UMMA.  People either love or hate this artwork.  I know of people who think this looks like people having sex, but I don’t see it.  Maybe you do.

The third sculpture is called Ternary Marker, by Beverly Pepper in 1988 out of cast bronze.  It is known as a “urban alter” that blends antiquity with modernism.  You can see it behind the museum next to Tappan Hall.

The fourth land art is called Stiff Box No. 12, by Lucass Samaras from 1971.  It appears to be an abstract form of intertwining forms, possibly resembling a figure.  Samaras was interested in contrasting the left side of the sculpture with soft forms to the right side with hard jagged movements.

Heading around the museum to the fifth sculpture we see Requiem by Erwin Binder.  It was made in 1988 out of bronze.  This piece is a memorial to the armed forces and Americans who have served for our country.

The sixth work is called Angry Neptune, Salacia, and Stride by Michele Oka Doner a UofM alumna.  This structure is made out of bronze and appears to be melting figures in dialog.

The last structure is called Daedalus by Charles Ginnever.  The title is after a Greek legend and is molded in the shape of a wind in flight.  Walk around it to get the full effect.

Well, there you have it.  I hope you enjoy your stroll around the museum soon!

Happy Thanksgiving!!

November.

November is that indeterminate blank of time caught between autumn and winter, reluctant to loosen its grasp on the light and warmth of autumn, but slipping inexorably, a reminder of time’s unyielding progression, towards winter. The scarlets and coppers and saffrons of September and October have long faded into brown, desiccated hulls fluttering and rattling in the wind. There was a period when the foliage, bright and plentiful, came flopping wetly down to plaster the pavement in little leaf-shaped cutouts every time it rained, or drifted, in a whirlwind of colour, to settle upon the lawn while the sun was still high.

But now the palette has changed. Browns and greys and beiges, muted by the haze of November, a name under which these colours fall. The sky, no longer piled with the cottony white cumulus of summer, settles into iron-grey blankets that lie low and flat and heavily across the sky. Trees are stripped to their skeletons, stems and stalks whisper and sigh, and humans begin to don garments in hues with such names as camel or charcoal or sepia or maroon, and they, too, adapt to the November landscape.

Rain, hanging in a cold, drizzly mist (or torrential downpours, as yesterday’s). Wind, stiff and dull, almost biting, but not enough so to be bitter. The sun weakens towards watery, when it shows. Breaths begin to mist first at night, then gradually during the day, some days.

Somewhere, a flock of crows has roosted, the black of their plumage invisible against the darkness, but their raucous conversation lasting well into the night. Sunsets slip closer, alighting unexpectedly earlier and earlier. Grey days bleed into one another, and November passes.

YouTube is useful for many things such as procrastination, music appreciation, and most importantly, rediscovering old TV shows that you once were obsessed with. For me these shows have included Boy Meets World, Celebrity Mole (the one with Kathy Griffin), and more recently, Alias. Hopefully some of you watched Alias during its heyday (before Jennifer Garner left), but for those of you who missed out here is the basic premise: The main character, Sydney Bristow, is a graduate student by day and double agent by night who is trying to avenge the death of her fiancé.

 

The brainchild of J.J. Abrams (of Lost fame) is a spy thriller that will keep you constantly guessing. However, unlike other action shows, Alias doesn’t rely wholly on explosions and car chases to engage the audience. Rather, Alias is grounded in an intelligent and original plotline that is always unexpected. Though some of the dialogue/themes are slightly cheesy (i.e. Sydney’s painfully obvious daddy issues), Bristow’s character remains far more compelling than her film counterpart, Lara Croft.

 

For those of who you liked Lost (or didn’t, like me, and just like good TV) be sure to give this one a chance. It’s a far better option that watching reruns of the Jersey Shore.