These days, the internet is filled with folks affirming their individual awesomeness by annoyingly lamenting the degration of our society. If you spend any time on Facebook, tumblr, or any other image-sharing site, you’ve probably seen those poorly-crafted MS Paint images that bemoan the world’s supposed lack of culture. Typically, such pictures juxtapose two popular figures, one “bad” and one “good”–let’s say, for example, Miley Cyrus and Aristophanes. A caption over Hannah Montana will read “If you know who this is,” while the Helvetica text superimposed onto Aristophanes’ sad little bust will be something along the lines of “and don’t know who this is, then YOU’RE what’s wrong with the universe/today’s culture/[whatever].”

As much as I hate following trends, I feel it’s necessary to create a comparison of my own.

If Cornellians bought out every seat of the massively large Bailey Hall to see some aged pop singer talk about his college drop-out days, drinking habits and bad relationships for three hours (okay, and sing like five songs as well), but an extremely sophisticated performance of Javanese wayang (shadow theatre) piece by a world-renowned master didn’t even draw enough of a crowd to fill up the orchestra level, there must be something wrong with the world.

Billy Joel, I love you, man, but I'd like to see you do the demon king Niwatakiwatja's voice correctly (or pronounce Niwatakiwatja on the first try, for that matter.)

The opening of the exhibit I helped to curate for my Art History seminar (Shadowplay: Asian Art in Performance) was meant to coincide with the residency of Ki Purbo Asmoro, a famous and incredibly talented dhalang. Before I took the class, my knowledge of shadow plays was based on a single performance I attended during “New Year’s Day at Sturbridge Village” when I was six or seven. The show featured a costumed 19th-century granny singing a pitchy (yet kitschy) musical story that featured the charming refrain of “The bridge is broken and it must be fixed!” Because that’s all I remember (which is probably for the best), I had relatively low expectations for wayang.

A dhalang, however, isn’t just some history buff who pulls on leather boots and high-necked crinoline each January 1st. (Please note that I am in no way hating on those who work at historical reenactment sites like Sturbridge Village. Honestly, that’s probably my ideal career.) A puppetmaster like Purbo Asmoro has to be a poet (composing the narration), an improv comedian (tying in popular culture to his plays–for instance, a puppet Barack Obama made an appearance during the comedic interlude last night), a musician (leading the gamelan ensemble), and a business manager as well as a skilled actor capable of giving each one of his hundreds of characters an individual voice.

Our exhibition focuses on a very old Javanese tale, the Arjuna Wiwaha (translated as “Arjuna’s Profound Meditation”). Characters like Arjuna were carried along trade routes to Indonesia when the Mahabharata traveled from India. The Arjuna Wiwaha story, however, does not appear in the Indian epic at all. Arjuna, the protagonist, is aptly described by my professor as “the playboy of the Mahabharata.” The princely Arjuna manages to find the perfect balance between being a charming, intelligent ladies’ man and a formidable warrior. In this story, Arjuna’s attempt to live an ascetic’s life and commit himself to meditation are interrupted by the gods, who fear that the raksasa Niwatakiwatja will destroy the heavens if Arjuna does not stop him. I won’t go into the rest, though, because you can go to the museum and read it yourself! (I helped to write the wall panel that appeared there, anyway).

Actually, I think he's more attractive than most other so-called "hotties" I've seen in American culture.

There are many factors concerning why Billy Joel’s show had a larger audience. Asmoro’s performance was a rarely-mentioned event on a Thursday during prelim season, while I received a Facebook invite to Billy’s Friday night talk months before tickets even went on sale. Still, last night’s performance was one of the best shows I ever seen–not just at Cornell but in my entire life.

(And I’ve had the pleasure of watching both The Phantom of the Opera on Broadway and They Might Be Giants in concert. So, you know, that’s pretty high praise.)