Author: keshav

The Museum of Art has opened an exhibition on Islamic Art entitled Doris Duke’s Shangri-La: Architecture, Landscape, and Islamic Art. The event opened January 25th and extends until May 4th, but I had the added bonus of participating in a conversation with PhD student Ashley Diming about the potential artistic implications of the work. The exhibition is not only Duke’s work, it includes the photography of eight other artists of Islamic origin, all of whom participated in the Shangri La artists in residence program.

This exhibition is highly personalized, as much a personal scrapbook or photo album as it is a work of art. In fact, I personally see it as more of the former than a work of art not due to lack of artistic merit, but rather because there is so much personality and memory in every photo, every record of Duke’s experiences in Islamic countries.

Duke’s original intent was to document her honeymoon and travels through the world, but also to create a visual record of herself in the act of collecting Islamic art (pottery, sculpture, ceramic tiles) important to her during the period of 1935 and onward. As Duke continued her mission, her collection grew upwards of 60 original objects and a plethora of photographs of Duke on site.

The question in my head, and one which I wish I could have asked the artist herself, was, “so what matters more, the final presentation of the exhibition, or the journey itself?” I cannot speak for the artist, but I suspect it is difficult to answer this question, as both aspects of the exhibit seem quite personally fulfilling.

On one hand, this is a deeply personal artistic endeavor, lasting years, etching memories, and exposing the artist to unique and humbling experiences. On the other hand, the act of combining this journey is an act of affirming the meaningfulness of one’s own life—Duke shares an entire era of her life with the public, but in doing so recreates her own personal journey, perhaps even gaining deeper insights into what her motivations were, how each picture she took or object she collected forever changed her own life. And in turn, her journey of self-discovery becomes an opportunity for the audience to indulge in their own journey of self-discovery.

To me this exhibit is a perfect capstone for why art is such a great thing. Duke’s exhibition shows that while art doesn’t directly save lives, it sure makes life worth living. The journey to find and catalogue important works of art lead to Duke’s own growth as a photographer and exhibitionist. Duke is an inspiration to me, showing that if we live our lives the right way, everything we do can become a work of art.

Read more about the exhibition here: http://www.umma.umich.edu/insider/duke-programs

Sunday evening, I attended a Coriolanus HD screening at the Michigan Theater. Coriolanus is one of Shakespeare’s later works, and generates particular interest in his fans because it is quite different than his other tragedies.

For those interested in knowing what sets this play apart, basically, Coriolanus is much closer to a war story than it is a traditional tragedy—common themes such as romance and psychological character study often found in Shakespeare’s more famous works such as Hamlet or Macbeth are notably underdeveloped in Coriolanus. Instead, this play asks what it means to be a true warrior, and whether the ideal personality for the battlefield precludes one from succeeding as a good civic leader.

Set during the age of the Roman empire at a time of economic strife and conflict between Romans and Volscians, Coriolanus begins with decorated war hero, Caius Martius (for you mythology fans, yes, “Martius” is a reference to Roman god of war Mars). Martius is a great fighter, in fact, his mother often mentions she’s bred him for war since we was a baby—forcing him to be independent at a young age, refusing to tend to him when he cries. Martius’ ability on the battlefield propels him to tremendous fame among the Roman public, but two Roman senators, Brutus and Sicinius are jealous of his public image and seek to prevent Martius’ success in government.

At first, it seems Brutus and Sicinius’ schemes will fail, because Martius singlehandedly defeats an entire Volscian army and is knighted Coriolanus (hey, that’s the title of the play!). As it turns out, however, the two evil senators did not need to sabotage Coriolanus, as he is perfectly fine at screwing up his public image all by himself. His prideful speeches to the public and unwillingness to acknowledge their suffering during times of economic hardship create a chilling effect. Not only does the public ignore Coriolanus’ bravery, they also accuse him of treachery to the state and banish him from the realm.

Prideful Coriolanus joins the Volscians, his rivals in battle, incensed at the Roman public, and prepared to do what he does best—smash some skulls on the battlefield. Unfortunately, Coriolanus dies in battle, considered a traitor by both camps, his death mourned by only a handful of friends and family, his greatness forgotten.

Donmar Warehouse’s production is fantastic, Tom Hiddleston plays a stout-hearted man-of-action Coriolanus perfectly. Hiddleston’s challenge is unique for a Shakespearean actor—as I have mentioned earlier, Coriolanus doesn’t really delve into its protagonist’s personality quite like other Shakespearean plays—he has less to go off of in his interpretation of the character. Moreover, the play offers a range of interpretations of Coriolanus—he may be tragically earnest, overly and obnoxiously boastful, or a victim of a strict upbringing ill-suited for a career in politics.

Hiddleston addresses the challenge quite well. Rather than defining his character too specifically, Hiddleston’s Coriolanus treads the line between different interpretations of the character. And this is the best part of the play, as it is the most personal and realistic. It is rare for any person to act and think exactly the same way at all times during a regular day, let alone the craziest weeks of your life. Coriolanus goes from public war hero to hated traitor to enemy of his hometown in the span of a few months, and I can only imagine this would hit even the most stoic warrior pretty hard in the emotions. Hiddleston succeeds in bringing this ambiguous emotional turmoil to life, for although his character is clearly scarred emotionally, it isn’t in his upbringing to show it. So it’s a battle between repression of emotion and their release at the wrong times—on the battlefield.

American Hustle is an exciting film based on an FBI sting operation which took place during the 1970’s. The film, directed by David O. Russell (The Fighter, Silver Linings Playbook), stars an ensemble cast including Christian Bale, Jennifer Lawrence, Bradley Cooper, Amy Adams, and comedy legend Louis CK.

The film follows small time con-artist Irving Rosenfeld (Bale), who runs his operation with former stripper Sydney Prosser (Adams). The two are also lovers, carrying on affair unbeknownst to Irving’s unstable, alcoholic wife Rosalyn (Lawrence). Everything seems to be going fine until FBI agent Richie DiMaso (Cooper) catches the duo. He offers them an opportunity to avoid prison if they help entrap four big-time criminals. The ensuing sting operations gain action and suspense with every minute, as Irving, Sydney, and Richie all try to manipulate and lie themselves into positions of power at the others’ expense.

The plot of the film is intricately constructed and may be difficult to follow if you’re not in the right mindset. As the film progresses, the trio of Irving, Sydney, and Richie try to set up a sting on everyone from New Jersey’s mayor to the head mafia boss in the northeast (a small yet menacing appearance by Robert DeNiro). Along the way, Irving and Sydney’s love for each other is tested: Richie tries to turn them against each other by offering each a deal to rat the other out, Rosalyn discovers Irving’s infidelity, and as the profile of each target rises, Irving and Rosalyn start to wonder if they’ll make it out of this final heist alive if not free.

Adding to the confusion are the ambiguous motivations and allegiances of each character—the high stakes and low margin for error test each character’s loyalties, the dramatic tension invigorated by the ensemble cast’s emotionally charged performances. Every character, from Irving to Richie introduce themselves and narrate most of their actions, explaining their motivations. Their on-screen dialogue, however, reveals a lot of their narration is not entirely true—not only are they hustling each other, they’re also hustling the audience into rooting for them.

This final element separates American Hustle from other crime films I’ve seen. Few crime films attempt to tell a heist story from each character’s perspective. Doing so is difficult because it is a balancing act—each character must have an opportunity to explain their perspective. The writing rises to this challenge: each character defined clearly at first, their internal struggles and changes of heart develop along the way, and at key points in the film, they reveal ulterior motives which turn the film’s plot on its head.

Strong acting complements this strong acting. As hustling is the underlying idea of the movie, each actor portrays a less than honest individual trying to appear more than dishonest. This is very challenging, as each actor essentially tries to portray their character as a careful mixture of likeable and dislikable at the same time. Russell offers each character an opportunity to showcase their talent with clever framing techniques, setting each star center stage for their hustler’s lines—the screen becomes a stage for their pitch. An excellent movie for fans of crime drama and stories with many plot twists.