Trees

Rachel Leave a comment

Creation and production of art can lead to some pretty amazing results, but as I stared out the window of my discussion section this morning I realized that nature is one of the best artists around. There is something simultaneously intricate and simple about a tree . For a time, they are lush green giants that contrast the rich blues and whites of the sky. After a few months the monochromatic green develops into multicolored warmth, the branches strewn with bright oranges, reds, and yellows. As these graceful shapes drift gently to the ground, they reveal the elaborate skeleton they had been covering. A naked tree is really a beautiful thing. Stripped of its leaves, the branches jut and contort in ways that would seem impossible to keep it upright. No tree’s set of branches is like another. The wind gives motion to their existence. If the leaves are actors changing their costumes with the seasons, the branches are an interlude of dancers in the Winter season.

The Giving Tree by Shel Silverstein

There is nothing like a tree. Tress to hug, trees to tell your secrets, trees to shelter you from the rain, trees to dance with you in the rain. A tree stands for strength, perseverance, and unity. They stand their ground through rain, sleet, snow, and heat until they are forcefully removed or slowly decayed by nature into a lying log. This is not their end, however. This is a new life. As they lie a whole new beauty appears, one that had been formerly overlooked. The trunk. A sculpture all its own. Rough outer, smooth within. Rings keeping track of all its years. The trunk is a storyteller. The trunk is generous, providing for the comfort of animals and humans alike. I love trees with all my heart. They are undeniably a work of art.

Undeniably a Type A

Alexandria Strother Leave a comment

There are many things about me which could easily be used to define or explain who I am to a complete stranger. I am a 5’7” social liberal, fiscal conservative ginger studying electrical engineering and vocal performance. I am a townie turned student who never even considered a college other than Michigan, or that it might be a bad idea to pursue two unrelated majors. I am President of UMGASS and member of Eta Kappa Nu (HKN) who works 2 jobs in order to afford tuition, my accompanist and tickets to shows which I desperately wish to see. But more generally, I am undeniably a Type A.

Don’t believe me? Every moment of my day from 8:30 am – 10 pm is scheduled on my Google Calendar, including my 30 minute lunch break which doubles with memorization work. I carry a 5” notebook which I call “my little book of stress” everywhere in which I have a running to do list of everything that I need to get done. Unread emails (even in friends’ inboxes) stress me out and I am so afraid of being 5 minutes late to a meeting that often I will show up 20 – 30 minutes early.

The best part about being a Type A is that I know how to get things done. If given a deadline I will meet that deadline and will fulfill all the requirements of the task. The worst part is constantly fearing that I am not doing enough to secure a future for myself in my chosen career paths. This fear results in a “fire in my belly” that drives me to fight for what I most desperately want. In both music and engineering I believe I have found past success because of this drive.

When I first entered the music school, I asked my voice teacher what were the worst qualities about Alexandria as a performer. Without giving a blunt and demoralizing answer, she hinted that there were three issues which I and many members of my class needed to resolve in order to have a chance at a career in music:

1. Vocal Technique (get some).
2. Diction (learn them).
3. Resume (land some roles!)

Over the past 5 semesters I have worked tirelessly to fix the above issues in true Type A fashion. Vocally, I have practiced at least 1 hour daily, recording issues in a practice log and rewatching my voice lessons (I record them all for later viewing), noting what worked and what didn’t. I have taught myself IPA, taken the offered diction classes and spend at least 15 minutes a day on Duolingo refreshing my German and teaching myself Italian. Additionally, I have performed in 7 operas & operettas, 5 musicals & straight plays, 3 short films and numerous opera scenes & concerts.

So when I yet again questioned my voice teacher about what I need to fix about Alexandria the performer, I was surprised and confused by her answer. Rather than spouting a list of tasks to accomplish, I was informed that what has propelled me to success is now my biggest weakness. That the little voice in my head which has pushed me to success out of fear of failure, can be seen on my face when I perform. That my internal critique can be sensed by those in the audience and that my fear of failure insinuates to them that failure is imminent.

The concept of shutting down the voice inside my head was something so foreign to me that I had no idea how to begin this process, yet alone complete something which seemed so complex. Yet, my Professor (as always) had the answer: Don’t think, just sing.

While I will always be a Type A, I am now learning how to moderate when to let my drive for success into my head and when to forget my technique and lose myself in the music. It is in those times, singing for the love of music alone, that I know I cannot fail.

Moments of Sunfusion.

Taylor Leave a comment

My professor started screaming. 20 of us sat still, stared in confusion, and waited for her to finish.

“Look! LOOK AT THE BOARD.”

There was nothing there. Well, besides, a chalkboard. Time slowed as we collectively tried to figure out what was going on. Our eyes widened, we thought if we tried to absorb as much as possible things would start to make sense. But, they didn’t. Confusion is like slow motion and you know if things would just speed up some type of conclusion would be reached, some explanation would be found. Every second drips down like a leaking faucet and all that piles up is blank, somber faces and a pool full of meaningless seconds ticking past, leading no where. Which could be beautiful, let’s face it; however, in this instance, all I could conclude was that the world had ended and we were breaking into millions of little pieces. Casual.

“WHAT IS THAT ON THE BOARD?”

In my mind I jumped out of my chair. Knocking it over, kicking the two-person table aside, I bolted forward (the mere 3 or so feet) to look, touch, taste, feel, hear, watch the board. Looking, I saw only bits of chalk. Sharp and jagged, cutting the board–was there a tear in the board? Were we looking into another possible world? As I tasted the board I realized, thankfully, David Lewis wasn’t lurking behind me–my tongue learned of linear algebra, the furthest cosmos, lines from Finnegans Wake, the greek alphabet–and my spine seemed to straighten out as the last bouts of goosebumps settled from off my skin. Dancing around, quaking (or honking) . . . what does the goose say? . . . I understood that something was in the air.

“DO YOU SEE IT COMING FROM OUTSIDE?”

There were massive amounts of glitter falling from the sky. As if we were in some 60’s discotheque in Paris, I looked down and only found leather. Chains and chaps and whips and all of a sudden I woke up in “A Room of My Own” to find briefcases. Briefcases, in this moment, of snow of light of waves of winter.

“IT’S LIKE SOME BIZARRE, OBSCENE ART THAT, AHHHH MY EYES.”

No. Breasts weren’t all angular on the board. There were no bombs. No urinals. Not even some smudged version of a sunset seen at a distance of 3 kilometres. There were no men, no Mary. Not even a signature. My eyes were not burning nor seething. The obscenity she saw lurked behind a cover? a wall? the air? a question?

“LOOK EVERYONE. IT WILL FADE SOON. DON’T WORRY. JUST CLOSE YOUR EYES.”

And everyone’s shut but mine.

The sun–a traveller with a case of wanderlust mixed with ennui–moves about and rarely even shows up. Hiding behind layers of wool, since is freezing this time of year, the sun wallows; the artic blast/vortex/shenanigans is worse in space, ‘tis eternal. So when the sun shows up to the party, I celebrate. I’ll let you all fade away into the walls and the sun and I can have the dance floor. Now that’s art.

Some sunlight strewn across the blackboard? Naw, not art–just a little glimpse of happiness, a moment of being, in between the silences of dull seconds piling up in the  clogged drain of yesterday.

Paper Books & Analog Clocks

Justin & Ersun Leave a comment

Sci-fi-induced-idiocy has severely altered our perceptions of the future.

Chrome-plated floors, ceilings, and walls. Transparent touch screens with rapidly flashing data. Android housemaids. Flying cars. Strange blue foods consumed through a straw. While our view of the distant future may not be the cover of a discounted 1980s paperback sci-fi, much of our understanding of the future focuses on the technological change without a regard for aesthetics. As we progress into the future, new technology rises to replace the old–but we should not forget about the form of beauty it can take.

I do not believe anyone would argue paper books to be more practical than digital e-books. Digital books are more environmentally friendly (no need to chop down trees for paper) and more economically viable, for both the writer, publisher, and reader. There is little to no overhead to generate these books as no physical materials are required. This medium for a work enables the buyer to save money and the writer and publisher to share a great percentage of the profit, for no money flows into the creation of materials. The practicality is furthered by the ease of reading–as one could theoretically carry an entire library in one’s back pocket. Despite all of this, however, paper books still persist and will likely continue their existence in the coming years. There is something illogically satisfying about holding a paper book, bound and printed. Perhaps the smell of the paper? The bend of the pages? The light crackle of binding glue when pulling open the front cover? The ability to rip out pages, dog-ear the corners, and scribble broken thoughts in the narrow margins is what gives us the satisfaction. To mar a physical book and make it our own, to form a relationship with the book and have it be personalized for own agenda. It is the aesthetics that keep paper books alive.

Digital clocks are considerably more efficient than analog clocks. It is much easier to read a series of four numbers and know the exact time than deduce the approximation from twirling analog hands. Our cell phones bear the precise time from satellites. They adjust with time zones, appropriately switching with daylight-savings and leap-years. They are incredibly more practical in our daily lives, but that doesn’t mean we lose the watch around our wrists. Large analog clocks look beautiful when hanging from a wall. They are a work of art, equivalent to a painting, with a slight practical purpose. The toll of a bell-tower is no longer necessary to proclaim the time when we see it in the corner of our laptop screens. The beauty of that chime and consistent rotation of the time-bearing hands gives clocks an aesthetic value that cannot be replaced, despite technological changes in efficiency.

The future will be overridden with new technology, like driver-less cars and self-regulating homes to conserve energy, but the beauty of certain technologies will be conserved for the sake of aesthetics. Paper books and analog clocks, both beaten in efficiency by new inventions, will remain a part of our lives. Aesthetic value outweighs efficiency.

A Precious Golden Statue

Jeannie Marie 1 Comment

Ah. Do you smell that? It’s my favorite season.

Wait.

Did you think I meant winter? No no no – this southern girl is NOT made for the cold.

But it’s January, and that means that it’s awards season, one of my favorite times of the year. The funny thing is though – I don’t watch awards shows.

I mean, I do. I remember very vividly piling onto my mom’s bed with her and guessing who we thought would win Best Picture. But while I love awards shows, I really only made it my priority to watch the Academy Awards.

And yet, I love all them. I don’t know why – they’re mostly filled with stiff jokes and horrible acting. But for some reason, rooting for my favorite, watching someone rise to the top, or watching Leo DiCaprio get passed off yet again for that golden statue – it’s all so exciting to me.

I think the roots come from the fact that I wanted to stand on that stage one day, and smile and laugh and cry while knowing that I won something. And I can’t help to think that Anne Hathaway was that same way when she was 16.

Now, of course, I’m not 16 and I’m no longer striving to be an actress as I once was. So maybe I love awards season just because it’s nostalgic for me. Maybe I secretly love the punch lines read from cue cards (or is it cue computers now?). Who knows. But even if I didn’t watch the Golden Globes, I still love the thrill, the excitement, the sheer beauty of that one night when the people I see as talented and a literal star get rewarded for what I consider one of the hardest jobs on the market.

And so, without further ado, I present to you my challenge.

I started this a few years ago, and have not once succeeded. There is an even less likely chance that I’ll succeed this year. But my challenge is to watch every movie that was nominated for Best Picture of the Year for the 2014 Academy Awards. I won’t make it before the show (which will be airing on Sunday March 2nd for those interested), but I will try to watch them all before December. Like I said, I haven’t yet succeeded, since I’m still working on many years passed, but I want to set it as a goal, because if I don’t, I won’t put forth any effort.

And if you’d like, I extend the challenge to you. They’re just movies – take an afternoon off, watch the movies, and select which one you think deserves the award and which won you think will win (because, as often is the case, the two may not coincide). I invite you to try and watch something you may not thought of watching, and surprise yourself. All I ask is that you try, and I will do the same.

A Brief Visit to the Museum

AgnesG Leave a comment

The temperature has reached a new low this week. It was not funny this morning to have the first class in the Natural Science auditorium after the heat of the building had been turned down for three days. I was so cold and hardly had enough energy left to survive the following two back-to-back classes.

The weather seemed to get better after my friend and I got out of my film class—at least the sun came out. However, it turned out to be merely a veneer of agreeableness, because I felt like that the biting winds almost penetrated into my skin like daggers. Trying to escape from the freezing snowland outside, we chose to walk into UMMA for a temporary shelter of warmth as we passed by the façade of the museum.

As we entered the museum, my friend’s glasses immediately fogged up. He wiped his glasses as he walked toward the apse, and when he put his glasses back on and raised his head, he was astonished to see the sentence on the screen hanging on the wall. “They stop at the screen, lower their heads, and look at the phone.” Obviously the recorder misrecognized the fogging glasses as a phone. However, having anticipating such reaction from him for a while, I was satisfied to see that this misrecognition did not affect the surprise in his eyes. I finally told him about the secret of this magic screen by pointing at a student typing on his computer at the corner of the gallery space.

The installation by Dora García, called Instant Narrative, is a part of the “Affecting the Audience” project at UMMA this semester. Basically there is a performer who records what is happening within the exhibition space. What is interesting about this project is that it invites the visitors to actually participate in the artwork and watch their own participations in the project on the screen at the same time. In an attempt to emphasize my sense of being, I jumped up. As expected, “the girl jumps into the air.” the screen followed.

If you would like to watch how every action you take is recorded on the big screen, come visit this great exhibition at UMMA. Wear your craziest costumes or think about some weird gestures before you come—trust me, these would make your experience even more remarkable.