Have you been honing those keytar skills throughout winter break and want to show off? Want to show off the results of all that practice singing to yourself in the car on your morning commute?
This is your chance!
On Wednesday, January 11th at 8 PM, 15 performers will be invited to the stage at the Ark for 8 minute performances each.
Azerbaijani folk art based on Nizami’s novel. Photo courtesy of Wikipedia
The Hatcher Graduate library is currently featuring manuscripts from their Islamic Manuscripts collection, which pertains to a Persian love story written by Nizami Ganjavi. These manuscripts, written in the 9th century, focus on a woman named Layla and a man named Qays Ibn al-Mulawwah (who later was nicknamed Majnun) and their virgin love. This ancient tale has been adopted, rewritten, and altered many times, from Sufi writers to Indians to European writers. Visit this exhibit before it ends, in order to view original manuscripts of a beloved story in the world of literature.
Details
When: Now until February 22nd
Time: 10:00AM – 6:00PM
Location: Hatcher Graduate Library, 7th Floor Exhibit Space
Attending Helicon’s Synesthesia Exhibit was definitely an experience. It was dark, cold, and stormy when my friend and I arrived outside 504 Catherine, which on its own appeared to simply be a crowded house. Then, suddenly, some unnerving music began to play, consisting of what sounded like wailing and sound static. It was hardly an enticing welcome, but we eventually decided to head inside.
Welcome to synesthesia…
There were fairy lights on the walls and the band was huddled on the ground in the corner of the main room. There was some art hung at eye level, including some installations that I enjoyed featuring bright colors that were nowhere to be found in the rest of the house.
The back corner
We progressed upstairs, where we encountered an invitation to create some hands-on, spontaneous art by a window:
Window art
This was a part of the exhibit that I enjoyed. It claimed in the event description that this exhibit would be a safe space to create and appreciate art. The invitation to create something (or something more, in the case of the featured artists) was inspiring and made me feel like a part of the arts community.
Upstairs, however, was the opposite. We were guided into a small room draped with blankets and scattered with pillows. We sat down in front of a makeshift movie screen and watched what turned out to be one of the most unnerving films I’ve ever tried to see. The camera lingered on seemingly unimportant objects, such as an outlet plug on the wall and the (infuriatingly incomplete) shaving of a man’s head. We managed to escape once the narrator began discussing her wish to have her head stuck in a wood-chipper.
After that movie, we decided to skip the film with trigger warnings (“claustrophobia” & “bodily noises” among others) posted outside on the door. We headed down to the basement, which, after taking in the previous levels of the house, sounded rather ominous. To my surprise, however, the basement ended up being my favorite location.
The basement, part 1
This was our view when we had descended the (albeit creaky) stairs. The sheets and fairly lights gave the space a, for lack of a better term, very artsy personality. The lighting framed the artwork very well, casting a golden hue on everything. Despite this, the art here was definitely of a darker sort, featuring, for example, a “Self Portrait” sculpture by Jay Moskowitz.
“Self Portrait” part 1
A closer look at this sculpture, especially when you bent down to be at eye level with it, revealed the talent present in this installation. When you moved to look at the other side of the portrait, however…
“Self Portrait” part 2
…you were faced with something else entirely.
Moving into another room, we noticed a piece by Natalie Grove. “Sit in Me” was typed out on the label, so we obliged.
Grove
Turning to our right, there was yet another film playing. The film was exceptional at displaying continuous motion, every few frames featuring the cast in different or no clothing. Despite these changes, there was never any pause. The room itself was very thought-provoking as well, with wine and milk lined up in front of clothes in a pile on the ground.
Drink one, leave the cup.
My favorite piece of artwork at the exhibit was called “Suspended Thought” by Lorenzo Lorenzetti. I very much enjoyed the literal title and the suspensions themselves. It revealed, to me, how thoughts can manifest into something physical and indeed paralyze one’s mind. It was a very geometric sculpture that reminded me of certain renaissance sculptures I’ve encountered at art museums around the world.
“Suspended Thought”
I heard about this exhibit because my photographs were also displayed. Upon looking at all the other art present in the house, my friends joked that my prints were there to serve as a break from all other the more heavy, “tortured artist” installations. My only qualm with being featured is that the labels below all three photos were incorrect, but the working theory is that it was an intentional mishap to further provoke the disorganized, artistic mind.
Let’s make one thing clear. Although I have seen all the Harry Potter movies, and maybe I went to Barnes and Noble for the midnight premiere of books 1-6, I am not a huge Harry Potter fan. To me Harry Potter always seemed a little childish and derivative, like listening to top 40 music. That’s why Fantastic Beasts And Where to Find Them was such a pleasant surprise.
Newt Scamander arrives in 1926 New York, fresh off an expedition studying and cataloging magical beasts around the world for his book. While he plans to stay only long enough to release a particular creature back into the wild, a run-in with an a No-Maj (American Muggle) leads to a number of events that make the movie run 133 minutes.
8:30 + preview + 133 minutes = 11:15
Like all the other Harry Potter movies, FBAWTFT looks gorgeous. Combining wizards with 1920’s America was a fantastic idea and someone should give JK Rowling a high-five for that. It was so much fun to see spells flying inside speak-easy’s and upending Model T’s on the street–I only wish Newt’s travels had taken him to other American cities like Chicago and San Francisco as well.
Every actor fit seamlessly into their roles so well that I didn’t miss the Harry Potter characters one bit. Eddie Redmayne as Newt played the perfect awkward scientist, but it was Dan Fogler as Jacob Kowalski that stole every scene with his charm and naivety. Unfortunately, the female characters didn’t seem as well hashed out. Queenie Goldstein, one of the two female leads, is literally nothing but an attractive secretary at the American equivalent of the Ministry of Magic. Maybe it was to add the period feel to the movie, but this series deserves better than one-sided female characters.
JK Rowling took the dark elements from the latter half of the Harry Potter series and ramped them up for FBAWTFT. Unhealthy relationships, from a neglected son to child abuse, pepper the central storyline, which also includes the DEATH SENTENCE as a plot device. I enjoyed that JK Rowling decided to write a movie that was for older audiences, but wow the movie gets dark.
At the same time, there are moments of precious comic relief scattered throughout the movie. DC Comics should study this film in terms of how to balance the light and the dark, because FBAWTFT knows how to make the audience laugh in one scene, and then pull those smiles away in the very next scene.
I left with one question on my mind: how does the movie scale up from here? The final “battle” felt almost like the end of a movie series, leaving New York in tatters (a la The Avengers) and at least two surprises. It felt like JK Rowling pulled out all of the stops as the wizards struggled to contain a dark force attacking the city. Will it be possible to make the action more exciting, or will we start to get fatigued after seeing the same spells, the same special effects, and the same CGI-creatures every outing?
Well, maybe, reading isn’t the most accurate word for it. After all, Jonathan Safran Foer read for a total of about five minutes (exactly two paragraphs). He explained that he hated readings and preferred conversations. Part of this is because he always has to figure out what to read and to whom. He described how he marked and labeled different sections for reading, and that half of these were “probably [about] jerking off,” which while that might make a great section for Ann Arbor, would probably not be so well-recieved in Nashville. The section he ended up reading was focused on the married couple who’s story makes up the heart of the novel. It included the wonderful line: “their inner lives were overwhelmed by all the living.”
The bulk of the evening was dedicated to the conversation with Douglas Trevor, though the conversational aspects were dubious. Jonathan Safran Foer had a habit of commenting halfway through a question and talking about whatever that half-question led him to. It didn’t seem necessarily that he was trying to lead the conversation in a certain direction or anything, more like he was too impatient to wait for the full question and he had to blurt out the ideas already forming in his head.
Still, the conversation turned out interesting at least. One of my, and I believe the rest of the audience’s, favorite parts was when JSF responded to a question about all the interesting tidbits of information and ideas placed in his novels, specifically, if he kept a scrapbook of such ideas to place in his works. JSF’s initial response was “I am never writing unless I’m writing,” which is very standard fare, but his answer continued on into further explanation, next describing how he doesn’t think. Like at all, or at least, unprovoked. He described his thoughts as responses–either to writing or conversation–and that when he is say, walking down the street, his mind is blank beyond basic feelings and thoughts (he wonders if anyone really thinks when they’re simply walking). This lack of thought has even led him to wonder if he really has feelings or if those are also just responses to stimuli. Needless to say, it was fascinating to listen to a world-renown author describe how few thoughts he has.
In response to another question, JSF described, rather beautifully, how when he is writing, no matter what he is writing, he feels that “this is the last thing you’ll ever write.” Not because he doesn’t plan on ever writing again obviously, but because “the person writing this book will not write another.” As in the sensibilities he has now will not be the same he has when he is older–looking back at his old work, he feels that these books were not written by him, as in current present JSF, but by a distinctly past version of himself. This makes sense given he wrote his first novel as a college student and his most recent one as a family man–people change, sometimes quite drastically.
In his Q&A with members from the audience, there was a question from one man which was prefaced by him stating that Jonathan Franzen was actually his favorite writer, to which JSF seemed a bit offended that this man would state that to him so matter of fact. When the man then attempted to backpedal by saying no disrespect, JSF said “respect is for losers.” He proceeded to answer the question somewhat adequately, but in a sense this interaction served as a summary of the entire night. Highly entertaining, kind of informative, not quite rude, but also just plain off.
I’d never seen any of Oscar Wilde’s work before I went to see The Importance of Being Earnest on Friday, so I didn’t know what to expect. I expected something similar to Wodehouse’s work: In print it has just never produced much amusement for me, but I find the series starring Hugh Laurie and Stephen Fry absolutely hilarious. Something about their acting brings the writing to life. The same happened when I went to see this play, performed by the Rude Mechanicals. First of all, their seven-women-and-one-drag-queen cast was a refreshing take on traditional gender roles. I especially liked one of the first scenes, in which Algernon entered dressed in women’s clothing and then proceeded to change into men’s attire. It’s amazing that such a small thing could be so thought-provoking. I wish there had been more bits like that, because it was hard for me to distinguish what aspects of the play took on a different meaning when the cast was deliberately female than if it had just happened to be women playing men’s roles, which isn’t uncommon.
In terms of the performance itself, the cast did a beautiful job. Their facial expressions, for one, were priceless, as was their timing. Lane’s slight pause before addressing Algernon as “sir,” for example, added humor and some thought on gender roles. Small actions like Merriman and Cecily’s fangirling (as I believe it’s called) over “Ernest’s” arrival added a modern element to the play. Algernon and Jack’s way of stuffing food into their mouths so quickly that they could barely speak was beautifully done. The characters’ absolute bewilderment at the situations they all got themselves into was perfect, and reminded me of Hugh Laurie in the Jeeves and Wooster series. These little things added vivacity to the production, and brightened up dialogue that in print might have come across as dry. Overall, it was a marvelous production, and I couldn’t have asked for a better introduction to the work of Oscar Wilde.
