Few fashion trends during the French Revolutionary period were able to create the same reaction as la coiffure à la Titus, a haircut that evoked both amusement and outrage.  Its extreme shortness was purposefully masculine, having been appropriated from an earlier male fashion trend meant to imitate ancient Roman busts.   It was also a style that was considered incredibly natural, standing in contrast to the highly powdered and structured wigs of the ancien regime.  Women who cropped their hair in such a way were aggressively targeted in pamphlets, cultural journals, fashion prints, caricatures, books, and at least one play.  This condemnation was, as one might expect, an overwhelmingly male exercise, with one contemporary critic going as far as to say that the women who wore the Titus were “disfigured.”  Regardless of the deprecation, many prominent women wore the blatantly masculine hairstyle well into the first decade of the 19^th Century, continually amending it to fit changing definitions of femininity.

In 1804 the author of the Toilette des dames ou Encyclopédie de la beauté railed against the Coiffure à la Titus, questioning why women would forsake what was universally regarded as their most beautiful feature and opt instead for bare heads.  This was something typically associated with punishment or shame.  Women’s decision to sacrifice an accepted sign of femininity begged an association with cross-dressing. According to critic Rothe de Nugent in his 1809 Anti-Titus pamphlet, one of the principle aspects of revulsion found in the female Titus was the conflation between male hair and female dress, as though a Roman emperor’s head were on the body of a female.  Worries over cross-dressing, long standing in Western culture, signaled that male authority could be overtaken simply by a woman’s supposition that she was not confined to gendered clothing.  This criticism followed in the tradition as le monde renversé.  Le monde renversé was a common theme created in 16^th century children’s books meant to illustrate basic societal norms and morals through a carnivalesque inversion of hierarchies. One such image shows a woman about to go on a hunt while the husband stays at home with the children. These publications did not generally show cross-dressing, instead the emphasis was on the

reversal of one’s purpose in society, which was made entirely readable through appearance and costume by the time of the French Revolution. This print of the king combing out the queen’s hair bears clear thematic influence from le monde renversé. It not only makes Louis XVI a servant to Marie-Antoinette and a pawn in her own political desires but that her hair had become equal to and interchangeable with the crown, as indicated by the caption “Coeffure pour Couronne”.  Regarding the verdict for Marie Antoinette’s guilt, historian Lynn Hunt wrote “the revelation of the Queen’s true motives and feelings came [above all] from the ability of the people to ‘read’ her body.”  Or, at least, the belief that her body could be read.

The implication of Le Monde Renversé, and bear it in mind that these were meant to be taught from an early age, was that when a human pulls a cart instead of the mule, the world goes crazy.  When children punish their parents, the world goes crazy.  When a woman assumes the visual presence of a man, the world goes crazy. Le Monde Renversé has its origins in medieval carnival culture, where institutions like government and religion were suspended and social roles were inverted, including gender roles.  What made the coiffure à la Titus a problematic image was that it was not on carnival day; it penetrated everyday life.  Ultimately, the coiffure à la Titus failed to establish itself as a style that could be separated from its highly charged connotations of gender dynamics.  Continual compromises with ideals of femininity robbed it of its once shocking starkness, though criticism followed the Titus to the very end.

I think writing is good for an artist. I think language is a great way to communicate ideas about a piece, make difficult work more accessible, and is vital in a relationship between art and the world. It seems rather simple, but it might not be as apparent to people actually involved in artistic work. For instance, to me, time spent writing words is time I could spend doing any number of other things that would relate more explicitly to the craft I’m going to school for. But I’m going through a bit of an artistic crisis where I know neither my medium nor my method, so all of these ideas are getting a bit more jumbled that I had intended. And now I am here writing. And I think I’ve come to one of the best benefits of writing-clarifying ideas for both the world and myself. In a way, I think I need to write a manifesto for myself, as my way of introducing my artistic self to the world and to myself. Its something that numerous people have told me to do, so I think I’m gonna do it. And I think I’m going to use this public forum to do so, and hopefully the results are interesting! But first, I feel like I should share a bit of myself and explain this artistic ‘crisis’ of sorts.

When I was a senior in high school, I went to have a lesson with the wonderful Evan Chambers, the professor I’m studying under now. At the start of the lesson (which was filled with such an enormous amount of incredible advice that I was overwhelmed and have now forgotten most of it) he paused for a minute or two. He was looking over my scores and he turned to me, looked me in the eye, and said “Yes. I think you should be a composer.” I was…well I was very surprised. I had no idea that such a decision was weighing on those few glances at my poorly written music. I was flattered, of course. But I was also very, very surprised. But then I knew that I could be a composer, I knew that I could call myself that.

But now I don’t know what that word means anymore. Or if it applies to me anymore.

I am a composer, yes. I spend time every week writing music. I spend time in rehearsals with musicians that are playing my music and I spend time working with my colleagues in the creation of new music. But more and more I’m writing music that doesn’t fit in with what ‘music’ is. More and more I’m drawn to alternative forms of musical expression or maybe artistic expression.

Recently I’ve been drawn to music that doesn’t follow a linear structure, that finds new ways of thinking about time or architecture, that incorporates spoken word or written word, that explores visualization, or that explores the highly personal and the entirely specific. My work has shifted in a new direction that is not putting notes on a page, but instead working with text, movement, and the oddslot visual. It might not even be music anymore. And so I’ve been drawn to performance. You could call it performance art, alternative theatre, or maybe even dance, but I still like to think of it as music.

Art has exploded in terms of definition and scope in the last century, and I consider myself a proud follower of the avant-garde, the radical, and the new. And it is within that that I am creating my work. But there is so much to define when nothing is definable, so I’d like to take some time on this blog to explore this and explore my own personal ideas when it comes to art. Dear reader, you may not agree with me, and that is okay. I don’t want you to. I want you to push me and I want you to push yourself.

I’m excited to see where this leads me. I hope you are too.

On whole, the movement to diversity in corporate, educational, political, and institutional bodies has increased immensely in the past few decades. After all, we have elected our first black president for a second term in the land of the free, let a Chinese-American basket ball player run headlines for months, and decreased the contempt toward affirmative action.

And yet, why is it that discrimination against those of other races is integrated into the way people perceive others, despite their overt openness and even push toward cultural diversity?

In a recent Chinese-speaking practice session with a native Chinese speaker from Taiwan, studying literature in the school of education, I realized the inherent judgment I held from the moment I met her.  I had so quickly stereotyped her as a socially incompetent, not so smart, small awkward Asian female; a profile that I have tried so hard my whole life to separate from.  She was quiet, had broken English, and led to me to the room with another white female where I assumed would be a perfectly nice, and slightly awkward, hour and a half.

However once the gate was open to her native language of mandarin, with idioms she could use ad sarcasm at her disposal, her personality bloomed. She was so personable, funny, outgoing, and intelligent.   She was well travelled, participated in philanthropic education events in countries I had only dreamed of, and was studying classical Chinese literature at a Masters level. I loved her company and completely forgot the preconceived notions I had about her “social incompetence.” If anything, I was the one who was inept and unable to communicate. While I tried to show my slightly extroverted personality, explaining what I meant in detail and color became increasingly difficult. Frustrated, I began to withdraw from the conversation for fear of embarrassment that I couldn’t express myself properly.  I became quieter, until

finally I seemed unintelligent and unable to communicate properly, awkward because I didn’t know how to properly enter the conversation, and instead focused on the piece of paper in front of me.  This retroversion to a much quieter state is against my natural state, and was caused by a mere language barrier.

Too often do we judge others intelligence and personality types because of language barriers.   Regardless of what true personality types may be, barriers to expression and embarrassment from them result in awkward encounters where people leave themselves vulnerable to judgment, and then withdraw entirely from uncomfortable social situations.  As a result, cultural groups form so that they can relate and be their true selves, and express themselves in the way they most comfortable. This results in a cyclical pattern where similar and comfortable people find each other, avoid those that are “awkward” based on preconceived and invalidated notions, and form further judgment of others because of cultural seclusion.

With regard to my personal observation, minority persons who defy their cultural stereotypes are the most critical of their less culturally integrated counterparts, and actually denounce those who haven’t adapted to American Culture.   It’s the perception of being accepted as a “true American,” without any of the negative connotations that come with the stereotypes that are rewarded and reinforce the built-in discrimination today.

While we want those of other cultures in our work environments and admitted to our schools, I think it’s time for us to push further, open our social circles, and discover the true personalities of those who we may have judged and passed on.  We need to eliminate the integrated modern-day racism that we don’t even recognize, and allow ourselves to break the next frontier in racial equality.  Discomfort may arrive and we may not be used to cultural differences or interacting with people who don’t understand the latest Girls reference you made, but it is the discomfort and push outside of a comfort zone that leads to improvement and change.    The discrepancy between what many so strongly believe in, social and racial equality, and how they act, unintended racial discrimination, is something that I don’t believe I stand alone in.   However, through recognition and resolve we can change the way we think, and make many new friends.

Last weekend, I had the privilege to attend a Martha Graham performance, with dinner and a lecture beforehand all for $15.  I was more than willing to scrape fifteen dollars together to see a dance performance by a company founded by the Andy Warhol of dance, Martha Graham.  A household name that I have known for years and years, without really knowing about her contributions to her art.

This was an offer I couldn’t refuse.

Having never been to a modern dance performance, and having little knowledge about modern dance in general, I wasn’t sure what to expect (although I had heard something about a large, gray sock…).

But the lecture prior to the performance shed a lot of light on one of the few artistic facets of modernism that piques my interest.

A few key things that I kept tucked away in my mind about Martha Graham was that she did not add male dancers to her company until several years after its inception.  This female-centricity was extremely foreign to me, compared to the historically male-dominated world of theater.

This was because many of her pieces are centered around female psychology and the female gaze (e.g. ‘Night Journey’ which I saw later that night).

Aesthetically, Martha Graham’s dancers place a heavy emphasis on gravity.

They do not always point their toes or convey a sense of lightness when they are in the air.  Instead, their limbs are contorted and broken to convey the weight of gravity and the human body.

“Huh,” I was thinking, “That doesn’t bother me.  Or does it?”  I’m not a pointed toe nazi.  But I wondered how this heaviness would effect me later on.

Musically, something I found very interested and was a little afraid to experience, was the fact that Martha Graham’s dancers always dance a little bit ahead of the music. Later on, I found that this out-of-sync movement did exactly what Martha Graham wanted it to do, it made me focus on the movement of the dancers.  It made me view them as moving entities unto themselves as opposed to visual expressions of beautifully composed music.

All throughout the dance professor’s lecture, she had everyone in attendance change their body position.  She told us to stand up, sit down, lie down.  Basically do anything we felt comfortable doing.  Some people did lie down on the floor and when the professor was done with her lectured and everyone had changed positions multiple times, she asked us about the experience.  I was amazed at how aware I became of my body and how it influenced the way my mind paid attention.  Some of the attendees who laid on the floor commented on how much easier it was to pay attention to the speaker when they were allowed to be comfortable.

Once the lecture was over, we watched a short clip of Martha Graham getting ready in her dressing room, circa 1959 for her role as Jacosta in ‘Night Journey’.

Martha Graham Getting Ready

When it came time for the actual performance, I was scared and excited.  I didn’t know what to expect, besides contorted bodies, non-synchronized movement, and simple costuming, from what I had seen in publicity photos.

What proceeded was an amazing tour de force that made me marvel at everything the human body is capable of.

What surprised me most was how beautiful the dancing was.   Given that the Martha Graham company is a modern dance company, I was expecting something wretched or confusing.To be honest, I was sure how excited I was to see people contort their bodies out of time to music.   And there were times when I was confused, but it made me more engaged in the process of creation.

In the past, when I have been to ballet performances, I have loved the frilly, glittery costumes….

I have loved being taken to a fantasy land….

And I have loved being swept away by the beauty of Tchaikovsky’s music and Marius Petipa’s choreography.

Martha Graham was not Marius Petipa.

And I didn’t spend the entire performance reveling in candy drop ecstasy.  In fact, most of the time I was uncomfortable and constantly asking questions.  I asked myself questions like, “Why don’t I move like this more in my every day life?  Why don’t I express myself with my whole body instead of just my facial muscles?”

There were some scenes that expressed such raw emotion, I wondered why no one had ever tapped into this emotion before.

The company performed several pieces by other choreographers (one of which, was my favorite of the night) but my favorite Martha Graham composition was definitely ‘Night Journey’ which is a psychological examination into the emotions of Jacosta after she realizes that she has slept with her son Oedipus.  On an average day, incest does not sound like a great premise of a story to me.

But when danced by the Martha Graham company, this story became something that illuminated my emotional interior.  Although I did not relate to the characters’ incestuous relationship, I found that I did relate to the emotions of Jacosta.  Who hasn’t regretted something they’ve done and wanted to kill every object related to that horrible memory?  And it was a journey.  At the start, Jacosta is enthralled with Oedipus…

But after finding out that she has just spent the night with her own son, Jacosta is dumbstruck and horrified.  She runs across the stage, staggering to catch herself from falling deeper into madness.  It gets pretty intense.

After the emotional and psychological confrontation of ‘Night Journey’, my other favorite component of the performance was three variations on Graham’s original ‘Lamentation’ piece (arguably her most famous piece).

The first variation was comprised of three male dancers and one female, all in nude skin-tight costumes that showcased their bodies and movement in ways that glittery tutus never would.

The second variation was a solo.  A woman in a black dress spent most of her time alternating between avoiding and reaching towards a banner of light from the side of the stage.  The attention was almost exclusively on her torso; on the way she arched her back away from the light and then strenuously crouched forward as if her soul couldn’t bear the weight of her shoulders any more.

Last in the ‘Lamentation Variations’ was a piece that used the entire company performed, dressed in street clothes.  Slowly the whole company crumbled to the floor until only one couple was standing and grasping on for dear life.

As a whole, I was very engrossed throughout the performance.  It was very awkward at times.  There were points where I didn’t know what to feel.

But it has left me thinking for days.  Why wasn’t I able to reciprocate the dancer’s visceral performance with a more intuitive response?  Is it because I have become so out of tune to instincts, so bent into shape by society’s emotional postures, and so sterilized by logic, that there are depths beneath my surface, that even I am unfamiliar with?

Lastly, I loved learning some biographical information about Martha Graham (including her romance with Erick Hawkins) and look forward to any future Martha Graham performances that I get the chance to see.