Welcome to [art]seen!

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Our [art]seen writers cohort is comprised of University of Michigan students who review arts events on and near their campuses, sharing their thoughts and experiences on live music, film screenings, dance performances, theatre productions and art exhibitions.  Take a look back at some of our most memorable reviews of arts events this past year by clicking on the Year in Review(s) 2023 tag. See what our bloggers went to and read what they thought!

Editorial note:  [art]seen is designed to provide a space for student writers to express their opinions about events they’ve attended, with editorial independence. This forum is administered by the university’s Arts Initiative to foster a robust public conversation by students about the arts on and near campus. As such, the reviews published here do not and cannot reflect the thoughts and opinions of the Arts Initiative or the University of Michigan. 

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REVIEW: The Government Inspector

Maeve Ricks Leave a comment

Notice of Content: This article references moments of death by suicide and instances of fatphobia in a theatrical performance. Read with care.

 

Every piece of art should resonate with the urgency of a question: “Why now?” Yet, after watching the University of Michigan Musical Theatre Department’s studio production of The Government Inspector, I’m left scratching my head, struggling to understand the artistic vision.

This comedy of errors originally written in mid-19th-century Russia by Nikolai Gogol follows the story of a small town frightened by the news of an inspector, spying and evaluating the organization of their community. As mistaken identities and drunken behaviors abound, the townsfolk turn to bribery, flirtations, and trusty ol’ vodka to impress their supposed inspector. In Jeffrey Hatcher’s adaptation, what’s supposed to be a poignant satirization of greed, political corruption, and stupidity falls flat in comparison to the glaring offenses performed onstage. 

Malcolm Tulip, the director, greatly oversteps when inviting the audience into the world of remote, provincial Russia. Tulip forces audience members to participate in some of the most gruesome moments of the show: this includes an actor gagging onto an audience member’s lap from alcohol consumption, and having a patron hold a mirror for a performer to look into as they perform a staged death by suicide. Irresponsible is the only word that comes to mind. Audience members can’t consent in the dark, and to thrust unsuspecting patrons into distressing scenes without their prior agreement isn’t what they paid for; it’s highly unethical and dangerous.

The offense that takes the cake, however, is the interpretation of the Judge. Not only does the actor don a fat suit, but they use it to its full extent, making a mockery of fat people in a caricature-like fashion. The actor waddles onstage with hands cradling their belly, as if parodying pregnancy. As a plus-size person, I couldn’t help but roll my eyes and think, “We’re fat, not pregnant.” Then, they top it off by taking a fall and flailing around like a pig in mud. This portrayal not only insults the audience with its blatant fatphobia, but also exacerbates its harm with tones of ableism. Such portrayals are far removed from entertainment, serving only to reinforce harmful stereotypes and degrade those of us who are simply living in our bodies.

What do we have to learn from old or outdated stories? Maybe, this is the wrong question. Instead, let’s ask who should we trust to direct these new interpretations? I would be remiss to place any blame for these offenses or missteps on any students involved. It’s not their fault. Faculty who hold a clear power dynamic over student artists are responsible to lead and uphold an ethical, safe, and responsible production. It’s obvious, in the case of The Government Inspector, that there was a failure to provide such leadership. The themes of corruption and folly in The Government Inspector might have contemporary resonance, but the execution here is tone-deaf.

However, to give credit where credit is due, Nicola Troschinetz and Stephanie Reuning-Scherer were hilarious and bubbly in their twin roles as Dobchinsky and Bobchinsky, Ellie Van Engen successfully cements the proposed idea of satire through her costume design, and the ensemble, while lacking relevance and stage time, sure can sing a tune. While the production manages to deliver moments that are both shocking and undeniably funny, these are often overshadowed by its more problematic elements.

You’ll definitely find yourself laughing during The Government Inspector, but at what cost? $16 for students? $25 regular price? Or at the expense of others?

REVIEW: Winter Blues Cabaret by Olivia Van Goor

musicalsoup Leave a comment

January 16 | 9pm | North Star Lounge

 

 

Got the Winter Blues? I sure do. But Olivia Van Goor has a remedy—sing about it.

The North Star Lounge welcomes the fourth installment of Olivia Van Goor’s vocal jazz cabaret, where she hosts an evening of vocalists based in Southeast Michigan backed by a jazz trio. I caught the second show at 9 pm, (first set sold out) where the neon green walls of North Star were crowded with full tables and assorted cocktails. Four singers each performed three tunes, with hostess Olivia Van Goor bringing the set home.

The band included Rowan Tucker-Meyer on piano, Trevor Lamb on the bass, and Phillip Buchman on drums. This tight trio was swingin’. Sensitive, but not too careful. Tucker-Meyer’s solos were particularly impressive—he’s playful and concise with sprinkles of Oscar Peterson licks.

First to the bandstand was seasoned vocalist Ellie Martin—a jazz scholar who teaches at The University of Toledo. She has a deep and thorough jazz education, which shines through in performance. Her set included “Blossom’s Blues”, “Snowbound” and LHR’s “Blue (I think it’s called..?)”. She was an engaging and hip improviser; full of ideas and vocal freedom.

Hadley Rasnick mentioned she is firstly a pianist, and has been picking up singing in recent months. Second to the bandstand was a young vocalist with a humble, but charming presence. She offered a bit of a variety: Gershwin’s “Not For Me”, The Queen of Soul’s “Ain’t No Way” and “Ain’t No Sunshine” by Bill Withers. I could sense an ethereal attachment to the piano, but her performance was nonetheless endearing. She shined on the Franklin—perhaps most comfortable in R&B.

The multi-faceted Pia Broden Williams was third on the bandstand, a classically trained coloratura, educator, pianist, and tonight, a star jazz vocalist. You can hear the breadth of her vocals the moment she began singing. She brought out the classic “Blue Bossa”, “Afro Blue” and “I Was Born To Be Blue”—tunes with contrasting energy and spunk. Three of my favorite tunes were performed by the penultimate vocalist Anna George: “I’ve Got My Love To Keep Me Warm”, “Mood Indigo” and “I Let A Song Go Out Of My Heart”. Ms. Van Goor even popped up to hit a few “Mood Indigo” harmonies.

Ms. Van Goor closed the gig with the Antônio Carlos Jobim tune “No More Blues”, a killer latin staple. Right when we thought the gig was done, she passed out papers to the bar with lyrics on them…the words to “Centerpiece”. Perhaps the first time 25 people at North Star chant a blues together. Ms. Van Goor, she’s a stellar vocalist—lively, dedicated, and committed to tradition. So PSA: a doctors prescription for vocal jazz in the dead of January works swimmingly.

 

Images thanks to The North Star Lounge. 

REVIEW: Laura-Simone Martin at The Blue Llama

musicalsoup Leave a comment

Jan 25 | 10:30pm | Blue Llama Jazz Club

 

 

It’s clear Laura-Simone Martin brings the swing. Her debut show at The Blue Llama was filled to the brim with vitality, love, and a whole hour of masterful music-making.

At just 19 years old, Ms. Martin already has a host of accolades as a young bassist. She’s performed at acclaimed venues throughout the world like the BBC Proms, Carnegie Hall, Blue Note at Sea, the Kennedy Center, and the Monterey Jazz Festival. She was a member of Marcus Miller’s five-person bass ensemble, alongside Meshell Ndegeocello (a 12-time Grammy nominee), Aston Barrett Jr., and Mamadou Kouyaté, for Steve McQueen’s art exhibit Bass—the director of 12 Years a Slave. She’s currently studying bass at Michigan State University with renowned bassist Rodney Whitaker.

She took the stage under soft pink and blue lighting with her trio: drummer Caleb Robinson (a quirky and dynamic player) and pianist Redwood (a deftly captivating performer). Alto saxophonist Kevin Brewster joined for a few tunes as well, another fearlessly creative player on the bandstand. The trio’s feel remained immaculate the whole set through many different grooves.

Seven songs filled the set, many of them beginning with Ms. Martin’s radiant bass solos. Starting out was Horace Silver’s “Sister Sadie” and the beautiful “Mona Lisa”, a Jay Livingston and Ray Evans tune made popular by Nat King Cole. Ms. Martin revealed her charming and sensitive voice singing “Mona Lisa” while simultaneously playing bass. To start this tune with solo bass and voice was absolutely thrilling. Though quiet (perhaps from the distant microphone), you can hear the sincerity behind every lyric she sings. She finds conviction in intimate tunes contrasting with the bright verve in Silver’s.

Ms. Martin included one of her originals in the set “Kamora’s Bounce”, offering some insight into her compositional tendencies. The tune was fun and featured some of Redwood’s killer improvisational skills—thorough and precise, but never careful. Redwood played both on the grand piano and the electric keyboard next to it, swiftly changing the sound’s texture a few times in the set. Later on in the night was Ann Ronell’s “Willow Weep For Me” (a beautifully bluesy standard). With another solo bass intro (and melody!), I loved the space in this tune, and the choice to feature the lowest voice.

I regrettably did not catch the name of her final tune—but what I do remember is the joy and gratitude that suddenly overwhelmed the room. Ms. Martin penultimately left the audience with some words referencing her gratitude for the art form, and an intention to bring love into the world through her music. Her artistry runs deep into her soul, and when you hear a player perform as such, you can’t forget it.  The world always needs more love (and more jazz). Thanks for the reminder, Ms. Martin.

 

 

Images thanks to The Blue Llama Jazz Club.

REVIEW: Strange You Never Knew

Chloe Huang Leave a comment

When first entering the exhibition, the words that immediately greet the viewer are “Please Take Off Your Shoes.” The title of this series reflects a custom common to many Asian households— a sign of respect for the host and a gesture of humility. 

Strange You Never Knew marks artist and photographer Jarod Lew’s first solo exhibition, centering on the interplay between personal identity, generational stories, and a larger community. The idea of ‘knowing’ is not only Lew’s exploration of his identity but also asks the viewers to question the extent they know about others. With the title Please Take Off Your Shoes, Lew establishes the concept of exploring customs and stories rooted in his Asian heritage that is often obscured, inviting us into these invisible spaces of his community. The intimacy of these interior spaces and connections between humans serves as a contrast to the external perceptions of Asian American communities that tend to be surface-level and binary. 

Exhibition panel featuring the Please Take Off Your Shoes placard

The exhibition consists of four sections— Please Take Off Your Shoes, In Between You and Your Shadow, and Mimicry— each examining the contrast between reality and perception. At times, Lew’s works are laced with humor and amusement. Try playing The New Challengers Strike Back where the goal is to beat up a car. Take a close look at the family-style slideshow in the living room and you’ll find that many of the photographs are of Lew’s face edited onto old images of white, suburban families. In one image, he’s a young boy at a birthday party, and in another, a doting wife. But there’s also a disturbing reality to other photos shown in the sequence: untouched photographs of midwestern communities hosting “Chinese Block Parties” featuring costume-like versions of traditional Asian attire. However, with these photographs in conversation, there’s a third element: genuineness. The other untouched photographs are the ones featuring the lived experiences of Asian Americans. 

Genuineness pervades through the collections of works. At times, there’s a solemn beauty in the ways Lew captures his subjects, particularly his mother. This series was inspired by Lew discovering his mother had been engaged to Vincent Chin, a Chinese-American man who was beaten to death by two white automotive workers. Despite his mother’s wishes to be obscured in the photographs, Lew’s photographs preserve the stories that might have otherwise been lost in history. Vincent Chin is a name that reverberates in the Asian American narrative, but what of the other entangled stories? 

Photo Credits: Jarod Lew

I had the privilege of hearing both Lew and curator, Jennifer Friess, speak about the work, and hearing the stories behind the pieces accentuated my experience. I loved hearing about how shooting one photograph with his dad, the one where he sits wearing his post-officer uniform, made his dad cry. I remember Lew saying how his dad felt like he was wearing his old self again, this period of strength in his life. And how when Lew was departing for Yale, his father suddenly told him his grandfather was an enthusiastic photographer and showed him a box of his photographs, many of which appear in the exhibit. 

This collection of photographs explores a necessary conversation about layers– the profound nuances within Asian American culture, the stories that trail between generations, and the histories that trickle into the present. Strange You Never Knew presents a powerful juxtaposition, true to the complex nature of identities emerging from different backgrounds. It is simultaneously humorous and playful, while also deeply reflective and personal. Most of all, it is welcoming in nature. While the perspectives in the exhibition may be something familiar or unfamiliar, the space is asking you to be open— to (metaphorically) take off your shoes. What awaits behind the door is an obscured hand, holding up a sign of love. 

Photo Credits: Jarod Lew

Strange You Never Knew: A Solo Exhibition by Jarod Lew  is on view at UMMA through June 15th. 

REVIEW: Pan-Tastic: Korean Singer of Tales Meets Jazz

Andrew Teel 1 Comment

The origins of jazz are often noted to have taken place in African tradition and early American life styles, but with the popularity of jazz throughout the world, it is of no surprise that the genre has been interpreted and retold through many cultural lenses as years come. On a winter morning of Wednesday February the 12th, the University of Michigan Flint was welcomed to a unique and fresh twist of Korean traditional music and folk stories with the deep entwined American styles of swing jazz. This concert was organized and directed in part by Kelly Craig, Brian Diblassio, and the other talented musicians you will read further about.

 

Before viewing of the concert, it is important to understand the art of Pansori in Korean culture. The word Pan in Korean represents an interactive stage experience that breaks barriers between audience and performer, allowing a more intimate and involved experience. Pansori, a similar word, combines Pan with the Korean word for song (sori). The art of Pansori combines singing, storytelling, and musical gestures for audiences.

Pansori storytelling enhance through body gestures and personal expression

 

In a traditional Pansori performance, only a single drum with a vocalist is used, but for this performance a  jazz rhythm section joins the fun with the addition of Lisa Sung (Piano), Tom Knific (Bass), and Kevin “Bujo” Jones (Drum kit). Hee-Won Park connects the ensemble in a very traditional sense. Hee-Won Park dawns a beautiful and traditional garb known as a Hanbok. The floral covered dress is distinctive attribute to the performance of pansori, along with welding her customary buk drum and creative storytelling.  With the addition of a rhythm section, the Pansori experience is largely

Hee-Won Park Singing In front of her drum (Buk)

altered in a rather charming and inviting way that has never been previously seen before. Many mark jazz as the root of free expression in music. One must look openly at the colors that unfold, and not that is written on the page. Combining the free improvisatory nature of the artform with stories that have been passed down, allows both artist and audience to manifest themselves to unique interpretations of every single musical motif and idea presented. I found that our mainly american audience, who may not understand the unknown and alien culture of foreign origin and traditions, were able to connect much more smoothly, and were able to have greater takeaways from the pansori performance by having the addition of  iconic jazz textures

 

Although all works displayed at the performance had a story attached to the music, a select few stood out to me in particular. One of these is Heungboo’s Song. Heungboo’s Song comes from a traditional childhood tale about a poor but kind man who comes across a swallow bird. Heungboo sees the swallow in despair over an injured leg. After nursing the bird back to health, Heungboo is given a bountiful gift from the swallow; a large gourd that contains treasures for the poor man. Using a saw to cut open the gourd, Heungboo pulls out endless amounts of rice and money, and with his generosity he goes to provide for his community. In this song, the sound of the saw cutting through the large gourd can be heard through the instruments. Pansori uses special vocal inflections and spoken word. Telling of Heungboo’s tale with the addition of a groove and feel from a jazz scope allows listeners to relate to the tale and experience a truly unique and legendary performance. Combining rhythm and emphasis on certain beats allowed the performance of spoken words to almost sound like a form of rap or R&B. Combining multiple cultures not only creates a new experience but also highlights similarities across other genres that are present throughout the world.

What also caught my interest was the opening of the concert with the instrumental work titled “New Year Song.” This piece is based on a child nursery rhyme in Korea, that celebrates the new year. With it now being the second month of the year the work was very appropriately timed. This work sounded like a classic jazz standard that one may find in Detroit or any local jazz venue. This is not a criticism but rather praise on how well certain musical motives heard in previous context can be adapted for a small jazz combo and improvised over.

Lisa Sung taking a solo over “New Year Song”

One can still hear pentatonic sounding themes throughout the song, and there was still a very asian jazz sound that may be hard to classify. The origins of many jazz charts originate in the world of musicals and even operas, jazz is all about rewriting and remixing old ideas with a new hip context. This piece specifically rotated through several grooves such as swing and bossa nova during the solo section. Even though the work is based on Korean origin, several cultures combine in a melting pot of sound and discovery. The Piano solo starts in the key but Lisa Sung dables with exploring and playing out, providing whole tone colors. The language of blues is also present throughout the performance. This work was very graceful and reminded me of what it would feel like to fly. The bright opening of this work comes to an end with a strong sustained dark note from the bass side of the keys.

 

 

 

To close, the Pan-Tastic performance seeks to connect with audience members and come together to share relatable stories from a childhood setting while also spreading the message of love and togetherness. The Group plans to take this project to multiple locations and is currently getting ready for their performance on the Dearborn and Ann Arbor campus. I am always excited to hear new unique angles of the jazz idiom, and Pan-tastic was a delectable treat for a cold winter morning and a refreshing twist to start this new year.

Left to right: Kelly Craig, Brian Diblassio, Lisa Sung, Kevin Dalton-Jones, Hee-Won Park, Tom Knific

Lastly I would like to credit the wonderful organizations that made this event possible. The Nam Center for Korean studies, has enriched the community in cultural experiences that previously would not have been possible. Evan Vowell, Minyoung Song, and Tina Griffith are credited for being involved in allowing this event to take place. University of Michigan-Flint faculty, Audrey Scribner, Kelly Craig and Laura McLeman were also heavily involved in allowing this to take place. As both a musician and audience member, I am extremely excited to see what future events take place.

 

REVIEW: A Prison, a Prisoner, and a Prison Guard : An Exploration of Carcerality in the Middle East and North Africa

the eye online Leave a comment

Featured Image: Marc Nelson (left) is an Illinois-based artist whose work documents the war crimes, and human rights violations occurring in Syria, Yemen, Myanmar, and the United States, and is featured in the exhibition. He is pictured with his friend and martyr of revolution Mazen Al-Hamada, whose verbal and visual testimony are also featured. Mazen was forcibly disappeared and later murdered in the “slaughterhouse” prison of Saydnaya in Damascus, only days before the toppling of the Assad regime.

CW: Depictions of Torture (Illustrated) and Discussions of Carceral Violence, Torture, and Death

The notion of human nature implies certain universalities amongst all people, suggesting an intangible connection between everyone who has ever lived, everyone alive now, and everyone who has yet to live. The tangible products of creative expression that we call art could be described as the physical manifestations of human nature. Thus, an artist’s humanity and identity become immortalized by their act of creation.

But what about those who cannot create art freely? Whose voices are silenced by carceral institutions designed to dehumanize and disenfranchise? Human nature does not simply vanish, and neither do those who are incarcerated.

A Prison, a Prisoner, and a Prison Guard: An Exploration of Carcerality in the Middle East and North Africa (MENA) is only the second exhibition I have encountered dedicated solely to incarcerated and prison-impacted artists and communities, a troubling reality I believe reflects the overwhelmingly negative Western and global attitudes towards incarcerated people.

Curators Susan Aboeid and Sumaya Tabbah of The Hafathah Collective, with organizational collaboration from U-M Students Organize for Syria (SOS), in partnership with U-M Library, and with support from the U-M Arts Initiative, have created one of the most poignant traveling exhibitions I have ever had the privilege of viewing. The geographic coverage of the MENA region is extensive, with prison art from Algeria, Egypt, Iran, Iraq, Lebanon, Palestine, Sudan, Syria, and Yemen, effectively revealing the devastatingly similar carceral realities of these countries. The exhibition, however, resists exceptionalism by asserting that prisons in the MENA region are not bad because the area is bad, but because the prisons and those who run them are detestable. Untitled by Unknown, Undated, Yemen is a visual testimony smuggled out of prison by an unknown artist, depicting methods of systematic mass torture implemented in UAE-run prisons in Yemen. This piece grapples with the exhibition’s tension of understanding prison art as testimony versus aesthetic, the former allowing the works to transcend carceral geographies and speak to the visitors, who in turn, speak to each other. Thus, the gallery becomes a space for those who have survived these prisons but can’t go back, a chance to reconcile their experiences and emotions.Another work, Broken Oaths by Razaan Killawi, 2021, Syria, depicts former Syrian president Bashar al-Assad atop excerpts from his inaugural address, “…a speech laced with assurances of unity, reform, and national pride — words that starkly contrast the realities of oppression, fear, and violence experienced by Syrians” reads the object label. Much like Assad weaponized language to legitimize injustice and oppression, the prison experience is carefully designed to legitimize the disintegration of communities under the false notion of “protection”. What is truly protected within these prisons is the truth — the truth about the unbearable reality so many people experience, which they can only later describe as “being suspended between life and death”.

Whether we are separated by oceans and borders, language and culture, walls and bars, or armed guards and authoritarian regimes, we remain forever connected to our family and friends on the inside. This heart-wrenching exhibition, which will remain open until March 30th at the Hatcher Library at U-M, reminds those of us on the outside that those inside are still with us. I implore everyone who is able to take the opportunity to be with these artists through their immortal testimony, and hear their voices which will not be silenced.