Jul 8, 2011 | features, photography
Hi! This is a project I did for my Reporting the Arts class last semester. I got to choose whatever I wanted to do for the project so of course, I just went for a really big blog post. But I’m gonna break it up so it’s not too terribly long and takes up the whole page. Stay tuned!
As you walk through the white wall doorway of room 38A in the National Portrait Gallery, you’re met with a rectangular white room covered, in the most symmetrical way, with photographic portraits. Miniature spotlights on the ceiling shine onto these identically white-matted pictures, and the same thin black frame surrounds each one. The shorter walls to your left and right are all colored portraits and the wall that’s cut in half by the doorway you just walked through has a mix of both color and black and white. The long wall in front of you is arranged in two rows of photographs, all black and white, and with the title of this one room gallery written above: “An Englishman in New York, Photographs by Jason Bell.” There’s a black bench in the very center of this well-proportioned room. If you were to move through the gallery clockwise from left to right, the first thing you’d see would be a tall white rectangle filled with a description of the gallery and a brief biography of the man behind it.
The inspiration behind this exhibit came from an American Vogue photo assignment that Jason Bell began in 2008. He was shooting an English tearoom called Tea & Sympathy that’s located in the heart of Manhattan.[1] After a conversation with the co-owner, Nicky Perry, Bell learned that over 120,000 British men and women were living and working in New York City, just as he was. In an article discussing the exhibit, Bell told the Guardian, “I suddenly thought, ‘Wouldn’t it be interesting to find out why all these people left England?’ And, of course, I also had all these questions about what I personally was doing there.”[2]
What emerged was this beautiful collection, now a book of the same title. Of course, there was some difficulty in turning the most photographed city in the world into something no one had ever seen before. Rather than focusing on the city itself, the standard buildings or the classic landmarks, Bell turned instead to the English perspective. Beside each portrait in the exhibit is a quote from the person in the picture, describing their first experience in New York, their misconceptions about the city, or why they came in the first place. Bell’s first memory of Manhattan is quoted in the same article. He recollected, “Seeing an expensively dressed woman in her 80s on the Upper East Side bending down to pick up dog shit with a perfectly manicured hand.”[3]
Bell has been living between New York and London since 2003, and although he studied Politics, Philosophy, and Economics at Oxford University, he had already decided on a career as a portrait photographer. He’s photographed everyone from Michael Phelps to Colin Firth, to Katy Perry, and has also shot a number of popular advertisements for movies, and television shows. But as an Englishman living in New York, this project was different. “I went for a walk in Central Park with Sting, and for a cup of tea on Kate Winslet’s roof terrace, sat on Zoe Heller’s stoop and watched Stephen Daldry bicycle down 8th Avenue… I started with a blank canvas and was amazed by the number of Englishmen and women who have made such a large impact on the cultural life of the city.”[4] In the description shown in the exhibit he says, “I learnt more about what it means to be English, what it means to be a New Yorker, and where the two intersect.”
[1] http://www.jasonbellphoto.com/#/published books/
[2] http://www.guardian.co.uk/artanddesign/2010/aug/15/jason-bell-portraits-english-new-york
[3] http://www.guardian.co.uk/artanddesign/2010/aug/15/jason-bell-portraits-english-new-york
[4] http://www.textileglobal.com/2011/03/jason-bell-an-englishman-in-new-york-closed-set-with-julie-bensman-the-fashion-spot.html
Jul 4, 2011 | museums, The Met
The Sackler Wing
June 25, 2011
Right now I’m sitting in probably one of the most well-known museum exhibits in the world: the ancient Egyptian section of the Met. More specifically, the Sackler Wing, which doesn’t really mean anything to anybody until you know it’s the huge open room with the little lake and the huge wall of windows overlooking Central Park. If you’ve ever been here, you know how impressive-looking this room is. Stone benches form the frame of the island in this little man-made lake scattered with shiny pennies. And in the middle of this elevated stone island stands two ancient Egyptian structures that look like they came straight out of The Mummy (or The Mummy Returns, either one…). Or maybe from the ride based off the movie at Universal…
Digression: I wonder when society shifted from the movie looking like the real thing to the real thing looking like the movie. At what point in time did kids start watching Spongebob before they saw the ocean for the first time? Probably around the time that one kid drowned trying to find him. I mean, obviously it’s much easier for some people to rent The Mummy than go to the Met and see this amazing exhibit, but I just think it’s so interesting that some child in this room is probably mentioning how much this place looks like the movies instead of the other way around. That movies and commercial places and things did such a good job marketing themselves that now those are the original to most people. And the time period or place that it was modeled after (like ancient Egypt and The Mummy ride or Africa and The Lion King) now looks like the movie or the ride instead of the other way around. How many people that have ridden the Spiderman ride have actually held the comic book in their hands? Not me at least.
But ANYWAYS, back to the Met: Surrounding the island are walls filled with pieces of broken hieroglyphics and ancient, pompous-looking statues. But people hardly even notice them for because they’re just the supporting players, since a picture of you in an enveloping ancient Egyptian building is way more impressive to your friends back home than a picture of you next to a comparatively tiny broken piece of stone with a bird painted on it. Besides, the two buildings have hieroglyphics engraved all over them anyways. The cool kind that look like they tell a story about something much more important than us. The first structure in front us really just a giant doorway that people can walk through if they felt so inclined. I’d say it’s about 30 feet tall if I had to guess, and it’s made up of huge blocks of stone stacked masterfully on top of one another, and a pretty impressive arching top that peers over either entrance. The designs ethed into it are still so clear that I would imagine it looked pretty similar to this when it was first built—the museum keeps it in good shape. The building standing behind it is longer and shorter—an actual building with at least four walls and internal rooms you can venture through. But the two columns at the front make it the most impressive; you can tell they used to be fluted although it’s pretty faded now. For some reason it looks like there’s an extra layer of stoned sitting on top of the roof—maybe it used to be two stories and those are the only remains. Or maybe they were just extra and the museum didn’t know where to put them. But either way, a couple of extra stones, if anything only makes this room more intense, and as I sit here on the stone bench with water on either side of me, ancient Egyptian ruins in front, and light streaming in from the huge panels of glass that unveil one of the most extensive urban (not to mention beautiful) parks in the world, I could never fully realize how lucky I am to have such beautiful things surrounding me. It would be hard not to write about them.
Apr 12, 2011 | theater
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| My ticket! |
Once upon a time, there were hundreds and hundreds of fairytales. Some of them were about heroic princes and their damsels in distress, and some were about horrible monsters and magical fairies. But only one was about a magical clock and an idea bigger than a pretty dress or dashing good looks. Hans Christian Andersen’s story, The Most Incredible Thing, is finally getting told through the beautiful art of modern dance, with the Pet Shop Boys’ new ballet that premiered at Sadler’s Wells this past March.
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| The workers in the opening scene |
As the lights came up on stage, two lines of workers ran down both sides of a long table, all dancing in flawless robotic movements that rippled through like a wave. Choreographer Javier De Frutos did an amazing job interpreting this fairytale kingdom into movements and pirouettes. Even through the very first number, it was clear that this ballet became more than just the one page fairytale it represented: the kingdom was made of paper, fragile and breakable, with the people oppressed and unhappy—very 1984. But perhaps the unhappiest of all was the Princess, danced by the adorable Clemmie Sveaas, whose hand in marriage in addition to half the kingdom was offered up by her father in his search for the most incredible thing. In the first act, the pair danced a heartbreaking duet atop a table, where it was clear that the king was a father too, but he still did nothing to help his daughter, even as she whispered, “Help me,” to the audience.
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| God with his 10 Commandments inside the clock |
This search for the most incredible thing was facilitated by a contemporary kind of talent show, but even at the end of the first act, there were still no viable candidates. The most incredible thing had already been created by a young artist named Leo, played by Aaron Sillis, who was inspired, just as the audience was, by a dance with three beautiful muses in white. The second act of the ballet was the marvelous exhibition of Leo’s most incredible thing: a clock that held the whole world inside it, past, present, and future. Images and film footage on a center circle screen were combined with costumed dancers to prove the clock incredible—inside was nature, god with his ten commandments, the essence of music, the birth of technology, and life itself, represented by the heartbeat and images of an ultrasound. And even though the clock literally came to life on stage, it was clear that these dances were not as polished and refined as those at the beginning and end of the ballet—the only time during the performance where any sort of imperfection could be found.
Just like any other fairytale, this story has a bad guy and this ones name is Karl, danced by the former Royal Ballet Principal, Ivan Putrov. Putrov clearly had a different style of dancing from the others on stage, more classical and less willing to relax and give into the moment. Although this may have made him less fun to watch, every turn and every movement was impeccable. Karl, in classic bad guy fashion destroys this incredible clock, which supposedly makes him the most incredible instead. A very chauvinistic wedding dance follows; the line of women bow and bend to the will of the men, as deep red lights create a hellish glow behind them. But as it could have been guessed, the story ends happily and the muses return as the clock reassembles itself, deservedly destroying Karl as order and happiness is restored.
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| The adorable Clemmie Sveaas |
The entire production was just a mere glimpse at what can happen to the world of dance when combined with all the modern media that’s now available. The contemporary, beat-enthralled music of the Pet Shop Boys, striking film clips by Tal Rosner, and a live orchestra conduced by Dominic Wheeler, all morphed into one breathtaking artistic conglomerate that restored new life in an archaic fairytale, which may be the most incredible thing of all. It’s a shame the Princess is already married.
Mar 28, 2011 | sculpture, The Louvre
Tony Craig
Manipulation, 2008
Bronze
A black mass, like an upturned hand, it has all sorts of whimsical appendages serving as its fingers. And every inch of this creature is covered in letters, numbers, symbols, and designs, that rise up out of it’s black, almost moist looking surface. From where I sit I can see English, Greek, and possibly Arabic. And resemblances of a flipper, claw, leg, tentacle, and more wrap around one another as if they were protecting something that lay in it’s center.
It seems as if it’s supposed to be some sort of multicultural, multilingual, multi-everything monster– what would happen if every creature, language, and idea were forced into one, self-destructive being.
Mar 28, 2011 | painting, The Louvre
François-Edouard Picot
L’Amour et Psyché, 1817
(“Cupid and Psyche”)
It’s the morning after and the angel man is leaving her sleeping. Her arm is outstretched around where the space where he would have been, but now that space is just depressingly empty. The sun shines on her naked body and a sheer white robe lingers around her hips, flowing down across her legs. Her face is upturned, peaceful, and unaware– you can almost hear her quiet naive breathing. The winged man, still in the process of abandoning her, reaches towards his clothes and arrows with his right foot still lingering on the bed. The rich pinks, reds, and yellows combine with the beautiful Eden-like background, making the whole painting seem like a dream. The angel looks back at the sleeping beauty with a goodbye glance– the older cupid teaching us that love, if anything, is fleeting, and you never know when you’ll wake up and your arm will be outstretched around nothing.
The inspiration behind this exhibit came from an American Vogue photo assignment that Jason Bell began in 2008. He was shooting an English tearoom called Tea & Sympathy that’s located in the heart of Manhattan.[1] After a conversation with the co-owner, Nicky Perry, Bell learned that over 120,000 British men and women were living and working in New York City, just as he was. In an article discussing the exhibit, Bell told the Guardian, “I suddenly thought, ‘Wouldn’t it be interesting to find out why all these people left England?’ And, of course, I also had all these questions about what I personally was doing there.”[2]
