Author: Madi Hammond

REVIEW: The Stampede

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When I picture an art gallery, my mind conjures a quiet, sterile space lined with ancient sculptures or framed paintings, each accompanied by a neatly printed placard. Even trendier collections, like those at the Museum of Modern Art, tend to follow a certain formula: curated, polished, and sometimes intimidating.

But The Stampede installation at the Stamps Gallery is something different — fresh, young, and alive. This exhibition is the first gallery showcase for The Stampede, a student organization founded in 2023 with a mission to create spaces for students to present new and unconventional artwork. With a rallying cry to “RUN WITH US!” it presents some of their work while showcasing the energy of this student-driven art movement.

Gallery-style art collection at The Stampede exhibit.

The exhibit serves as a retrospective of everything The Stampede has accomplished in its short existence. In just a year, the group has hosted pop-ups, parties, art markets, concerts, and gallery exhibitions, establishing itself as a vibrant hub for artists, writers, and musicians. This exhibition isn’t just a collection of their work — it’s a living testament to their rapid growth and creative impact.

The first thing you encounter upon rounding the corner into the one-room exhibit is a simulated merchandise table. While it was used for actual sales during the opening night, afterward, the items weren’t available for purchase. Instead, they mimic the kind of setup you’d find at a Stampede event, reinforcing the immersive, DIY ethos of the organization. It’s a clever way to blur the line between exhibition and experience, making visitors feel like they’ve stepped into a real Stampede gathering.

Artwork at The Stampede exhibit.

One wall is dedicated to a constantly running short film, projected in a loop, capturing the raw energy of Stampede parties, behind-the-scenes glimpses of artwork in progress, and the collective excitement that fuels the group. Another wall displays the spray-painted banners seen in the video, along with an archive of promotional posters from past Stampede events. The third wall is packed floor to ceiling in a salon-style arrangement, a practical necessity at their pop-up galleries where wall space is often scarce. This layout mirrors the spontaneous and organic nature of their events, where art spills over every available surface.

The variety of mediums on display is striking: zines, collages, paintings, sketches, and even papier-mâché sculptures. Each piece stands on its own, yet together they form a cohesive narrative of experimentation and self-expression. The installation feels less like a traditional gallery and more like an active, ongoing conversation between artists and their audience.

Perhaps the most playful (and fitting) element of the exhibit is the shrine to the “Blood of the Bull,” The Stampede’s signature sangria. A simple spray-paint can and red Solo cups serve as a cheeky nod to the community-building aspect of their events. It’s an artifact not just of their gatherings, but of the youthful, unfiltered spirit that defines The Stampede.

“Blood of the Bull,” an ode to sangria at The Stampede.

More than just an organization or an exhibit, The Stampede is a community. Every part of this installation pulses with the energy of the college experience: messy, exciting, and full of possibility. Rather than adhering to the conventions of traditional galleries, The Stampede invites us to break free, run wild, and make space for something new.

REVIEW: Thornetta Davis

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Detroit royalty came to Ann Arbor last Wednesday.

Thornetta Davis, Detroit’s Queen of the Blues, took the stage at The Ark alongside the Thornetta Davis Band, delivering a performance that brought the house down. 

I, along with everyone else in the packed venue, had the time of my life. Going into the concert, I wasn’t sure what to expect. I didn’t even know the difference between jazz and the blues (and, after my research, I’m still not quite sure). But the audience — mostly made up people several decades older than my friend and I — definitely knew. The excitement in the air was palpable, a shared anticipation that made it clear this was more than just another night.

When Davis finally stepped onstage, her black feather fans and sparkling outfit drew raucous applause before she even sang a note. She opened the concert with “I Gotta Sang the Blues,” a playful, self-assured song in which she explains why she sings the blues: “The blues ain’t been nothing but good to me.” The moment set the tone for the night: bold, soulful and full of heart.

Throughout the concert, Davis moved seamlessly between rollicking, dance-inducing numbers like “I Need A Whole Lotta Lovin’” – which included a call-and-response section that the entire crowd, except for me, seemed to know instinctively– and poignant ballads like “I Am America” which brought a standing ovation. But my personal favorite was “I’d Rather Be Alone,” which Davis concluded with a cheeky, resounding, “Bye!”

The crowd played a big role in the energy of the night. Though I might not have known much about the blues, the rest of the audience sure did. When Davis mentioned the musical group The Chisel Brothers, a woman in the front row stood up and proudly displayed her Chisel Brothers jacket. 

The intimate set-up of The Ark also allowed for effortless interaction between Davis and her fans, making for an electric yet personal experience. At one point, an audience member enthusiastically shouted that she owned not one, but two, of Davis’ CDs. The night was filled with dancing, clapping and joy, culminating in a final standing ovation that brought Davis and her band back onstage for an encore.

Speaking of her band, the Thornetta Davis Band radiated pure joy as they played. Each member had their moment to shine, taking turns delivering riveting solos from the drums to the piano to the guitar to the bass. The chemistry between Davis and her band was undeniable, with the music and her voice blending together so seamlessly that at times she felt like another instrument in the ensemble. 

I left the concert not only with a newfound appreciation for Thornetta Davis and the blues but also with a fresh sense of musical curiosity. The experience inspired me to seek out more concerts featuring artists I am not familiar with, to step outside my comfort zone and to embrace genres I’ve yet to explore. If this concert proved anything, it’s that great music — regardless of genre — has the power to bring people together.

REVIEW: Disfluency

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What are disfluencies?

My first question about the film “Disfluency” was answered within the first ten minutes: they are “natural interruptions in the smooth flow of speech”—the “uhs,” the “ums,” the “sorries” that fill the gaps in our conversations. It’s a fitting title for a film centered on Jane (Libe Barer), a linguistics student who unexpectedly fails her final class during her senior year of college.

Embarrassed and adrift, Jane retreats to her Michigan hometown for the summer, living with her parents and older sister, Lacey (Ariela Barer), while completing an independent study to earn her final credits. But Jane isn’t the same person her family remembers. Haunted by PTSD after a sexual assault at the start of the semester, her focus unraveled, and failure followed. Her sadness and withdrawal are apparent to her family, but Jane struggles to share her experience. Instead, she eventually opens up to her neighbor, Amber (Chelsea Alden), whom she’s teaching sign language. Through this unexpected connection, the pieces of her trauma slowly surface.

Few movies have moved me to tears quite like “Disfluency.” Maybe it was the achingly familiar depiction of a Michigan summer—its bittersweet nostalgia and quiet moments of reflection. Maybe it was the intimate setting of the Michigan Theater, where the small audience heightened the film’s vulnerability. Or maybe it was Libe Barer’s raw and nuanced performance as Jane—a character so painfully real in her silence, resilience, and search for understanding.

The film’s use of linguistics adds layers to Jane’s story. After a childhood accident left her temporarily unable to speak, she learned sign language, and now offers to teach Amber, whose son is deaf. Language becomes a means of connection but also a symbol of Jane’s struggle to reclaim her voice. In moments of panic or flashbacks, Jane repeatedly says “sorry” or “um”—the very disfluencies referenced in the film’s title. The movie skillfully parallels this linguistic thread with the experience of survivors grappling with whether and how to share their stories. Though the motif at times feels a bit overt, its exploration of the fragility and power of communication is profoundly moving.

Visually, the film portrays PTSD with a raw and creative intensity. Through sudden flashes of string lights, cuts to a theater stage, and fragmented jumps in time, director Anna Baumgarten captures how trauma unpredictably intrudes into Jane’s reality. These moments, disorienting yet poignant, mirror the mental landscape of someone navigating PTSD. In her Director’s Statement, Baumgarten shares that “[i]t was born out of my own experience struggling with imposter syndrome and PTSD in the aftermath of sexual assault during my senior year of college.” This personal connection resonates throughout the film, grounding it in authenticity and empathy.

The heart of the movie lies in its depiction of relationships, particularly the dynamic between Jane and Lacey. Played by real-life siblings Libe and Ariela Barer, their bond feels natural and layered, moving effortlessly between playful banter and profound conversations. The film takes its time to find its footing, but once it does—about twenty minutes in—it becomes an emotional force, drawing the viewer deeper into Jane’s story.

I do wonder how the film resonates with viewers who don’t share my personal connection to Michigan summers. For me, the setting’s familiar warmth heightened the emotional impact, amplifying the quiet moments of reflection and nostalgia. But even without that shared backdrop, the film’s raw portrayal of PTSD and resilience is bound to leave an impression.

Disfluency had only a brief screening at the Michigan Theater but is now available for digital viewing on various platforms. If you’re craving the warmth of summer amid the chill of winter—or simply want to experience a devastatingly honest and beautiful story—I can’t recommend it enough.

REVIEW: Anora

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Oh, Mikey Madison. What can’t you do?

From the start of “Anora,” the actress that is so soft-spoken in interviews blasts into the picture as Anora– nicknamed Ani– with her brazen confidence and strong Brooklyn accent. A 23-year old sex worker, we are first introduced to Ani in element working at the club. Between vape puffs, Ani charms wealthy visitors into buying dances from her, until her boss pulls her to a guest who requested someone who speaks Russian. 

Ani speaks some Russian, and is then introduced to Ivan, who says she can call him Vanya (Mark Eydelshteyn). The next day, she visits his mansion for a private booking, where he tells her that he comes from a very wealthy Russian family. He offers her $15,000 in cash to be his “girlfriend for the week,” and so the whirlwind of sex, drugs and alcohol begins. It culminates with a shotgun wedding in Las Vegas so Vanya can stay in the United States. 

Ani and Vanya get married. Courtesy of Neon.

It seems like a happy ending for Ani, who now has access to all the riches she could ever imagine – but unfortunately it is never that easy. While she takes the marriage very seriously (“We are mah-rried and we are in love!”), when Vanya’s godfather and chaperone Toros learns he got married, the jig is up. The “muscle” – Garnick (Vache Tovmasyan) and Igor (Yuriy Borisov) —  arrives at the mansion’s front door, and a panicked Vanya sprints out the door, leaving Ani alone, confused and angry.

Toros arrives, and after a long sequence of fighting and overlapping yelling in Russian and heavily accented English, Ani is convinced to help them look for Vanya. And off we go into our second genre. 

The movie is described on google as a comedy/romance. Where is drama in that description? This genre-bender begins with a whirlwind Cinderella-story romance between Ani and Vanya and transitions into a situational comedy with “Home Alone” style injuries of the sterotypical “Russian goon” as the four look for the spoiled oligarch across the city and eventually in every night club. The final act of the movie – once a blackout drunk Vanya is finally found and is dragged to confront his parents – has a much darker tone. 

The four search for Vanya throughout New York. Courtesy of Neon.

This rollercoaster of a plot left me in tears at the very final scene, alongside Madison on the screen. From the barrage of sex scenes at the start to the dry ironic comedy of the middle, the ending is quieter, more subdued, and sad. And honestly, this was the best possible way to conclude the story. A classic “rags to riches” tale is so on the nose, and at first, that was where I expected it to go. When Ani leaves the club, for example, she carries a clear pair of heels and even explicitly says that she feels like Cinderella. For a moment, I feared it might veer into a clichéd rom-com, but it took a turn I didn’t expect.

One unique aspect of the movie was the constant interchange between English and Russian. For most of the Russian spoken, there were subtitles on-screen, but occasionally there was some Russian left untranslated. Madison said in an interview that she didn’t know any Russian before this role, and learning how to speak Brooklyn-accented Russian was even more difficult; but to someone who doesn’t speak any Russian like myself, it all sounded the same. 

Madison is spectacular as Ani. She portrays Ani as tough-as-nails but also vulnerable, both in key moments and with subtle expressions. Eydelshteyn also acts with incredible nuance; the sincerity that he adds to the immaturity of Vanya makes it believable that a street-smart Ani would fall for his promise of genuine love. 

“Anora” is both sadly ironic and darkly funny. Don’t underestimate the serious merit of this film from the flashy trailers; it will leave you with both more laughs and more thoughts than when you came in.

REVIEW: Touch by Ericka Lopez

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“Please do not touch the art.”

In most museums, art exhibits or galleries– at least that I have attended– that message is posted loud and clear. But at Touch, an art exhibition by Ericka Lopez housed in the Institute for the Humanities Gallery, touching the art is encouraged.

Lopez was born with limited vision and today is completely blind. As a result, her art-making process comes through the sense of touch and her memories of color. The exhibit houses three different types of pieces: mixed-media sculptures, ceramics and punch-rug textiles. 

I walked into the small square room with some trepidation. The exhibit is housed in the Institute for the Humanities Gallery, a square room on the first floor of Thayer Academic Building. I went during the middle of a weekday, so the gallery was understandably quiet. What drew my eye immediately were the circular mixed-media sculptures hanging on the wall. Each one looks different, and are colorful amalgamations of yarn, beads, buttons, fabric and even keys. 

Multi-media sculptures at Touch, by Ericka Lopez. Courtesy of Madison Hammond.

It felt unnatural to touch an art exhibit. I gently reached out, and realized how much the texture of the piece added to the experience. The plastic beads and bundles of string contrast each other visually, but they contrast even more in texture. These everyday objects take on a new life in these pieces.

I moved on to Lopez’s punch-rugs. Each of these pieces follow a cohesive color scheme, and with the eye look a bit plainer than the multi-media sculptures since they don’t include as many mediums as the sculptures. (Don’t worry, though; there are still plenty of beads and buttons here).

Punch-rug pieces from Touch, by Ericka Lopez. Courtesy of Madison Hammond.

Despite being completely blind, Lopez uses color masterfully. According to Amanda Krugliak, the exhibit curator, Lopez has figured out how to distinguish different colored materials based on touch and scent. This unique method is part of what makes Lopez’s pieces so creative and imaginative; the exhibit is unlike any other that I’ve seen. It pushes the boundaries of the future of art.

I decided to try closing my eyes before touching each of these pieces– and this is how I suggest enjoying most of the exhibit, but these pieces especially. Lopez places different textiles in intentional patterns to create a landscape that comes alive as you feel it. 

In the center of the room, Lopez’s ceramic pieces sit atop two tables. The deeper meaning behind these pieces escaped me at first. I stared at the beautifully glazed coil pots before scanning the QR code to read about the pieces, where I learned that the warped and lopsided shapes come from Lopez hugging or holding the pots before firing. The relationship between the body and the art, the artist and her pieces, is what makes these pieces meaningful. 

Ceramics at Touch, by Ericka Lopez. Courtesy of Madison Hammond.

Accessibility within the arts can seem tricky. How can one convey a two-dimensional painting to someone who can’t see the painting? But exhibits like this, which also include exhibit descriptions in Braille next to the pieces, show that visual art can interact with more senses than just sight. For someone like myself, who is not visually impaired, the addition of the physical texture and sensory experience of touching the pieces made the exhibit feel so much more personal. Maybe more art should be made to be touched.

Touch is open 9-5, Monday through Friday, until December 13.

REVIEW: Murder on the Orient Express

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Before I saw Rude Mechanicals’ production of “Murder on the Orient Express,” I had no idea what to expect. Somehow, despite the source material by Agatha Christie being so iconic, neither the plot nor the ending had been spoiled for me.

Going in, I had no preconceived notions of what this play should look like – and, like with all murder mysteries, I think that is the best way to do it. 

The play opens with a blinding blast of light from the stage, mimicking a train’s headlights, before diving into the show. Hercule Poirot (Ty Lam), a world-renowned Belgian detective, is traveling from Istanbul to London on the Orient Express, a train line owned by his friend, Monsieur Bouc (Fabian Rihl). Once aboard the train, a kooky cast of characters including the chic and dramatic Princess Dragomiroff (Bobby Currie) and the over-the-top Helen Hubbard (Olivia Sulisz) soon find themselves trapped when the Express gets stuck in a snowdrift.

Amidst the hubbub, a dead body is found with eight stab wounds. It’s Samuel Ratchett (Jax Coates)… or is it? Poirot is immediately on the case.

The Rude Mechanicals cast performs “Murder on the Orient Express” on November 8, 2024. Photo by Ellie Vice.

While the play is, at its core, a murder mystery, it is also a comedy. In the program, director Anderson Zoll says they “leaned into the humor and heightened theatricality” to give the show “a generous dose of camp.” And overall? I think they succeeded. 

As someone who didn’t know the plot before going in, it was a bit tough to follow at first because nearly every character has a different accent. A terribly tough task, to truck through the 100 minutes in an Irish, Russian or Swedish accent. But once the cast fell into stride, the show chugged along like a well-oiled machine. The Rude Mechanicals machine, perhaps. 

Part of what heightened the “campy” aspect of this production were the cheeky asides and musical transitions between some scenes. For instance, in one of the first scenes, a character remarks that Lam’s mustache “doesn’t even look real!” In response, Lam moves the open newspaper he is obviously hiding behind to give the audience a pointed look over the mustache that is, very obviously, fake. In one of the scene clearings, the ghost of Daisy Armstrong (Christine Chupailo) performs a beautiful ballet sequence; but in the context of the flippancy of everything else, it almost made me laugh. 

While the whole cast was great, Rihl, Currie and Sulisz stood out. With a healthy dose of physical comedy and almost-constant movement, Rihl really played into the stressed businessman who will do anything to keep his customers happy. Even when not speaking, Rihl’s reactions to other characters and their actions simply made so much sense; of course he would dust off the seats before someone sits down to be interrogated! Currie plays Princess Dragomiroff in drag, a choice that felt so natural it made me search whether the role was usually played in drag. And Sulisz, from using Michel the Conductor (Jaden Gonzalez) as a handrail to climb onto the train to singing show tunes to herself in a pink robe, drew some of the biggest laughs. The loud, dramatic American traveling solo, the character Sulisz played was both familiar and novel, and altogether magnetic.

Some of the more serious moments fell flat, but they were few and far between, and the play did wonders as a comedy. A good comedy immerses the audience in a world and lets them leave their worries at the door, if only for two hours. While the plot was interesting, it was ultimately the way the cast embraced their roles and “committed to the bit” that made it so enjoyable.