Author Archives: aam258

Of Art and Artists

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Sometimes knowing details about an artist clarifies things. As a classical musician, I’ve been fully exposed to the value of getting to know composers through program notes. When I would go to see the Milwaukee Symphony Orchestra play, I would read through the notes on each piece. As I got older, I would even write some for orchestras I was in. A typical program note would include plenty of discussion of the art, but also a description of the composer’s personality and the circumstances of their life at the time they wrote the piece. The fact that Tchaikovsky died shortly after finishing his Sixth Symphony, the Pathetique, seems painfully relevant to its sadness. Bartok’s background as an ethnomusicologist adds context to his Romanian Folk Dances. Information about who the artist behind the art is can help fulfill the work and— perhaps— help elucidate its meaning.

But what happens when the artist’s actions, personality, or beliefs taint the art in some way? This question came up at the Table Talk “Playlist of Life.” Can (and should) someone support Kanye West if they find opinions he’s espoused publicly reprehensible? What about Chris Brown, who was arrested for assaulting Rihanna, his girlfriend at the time? Should we judge art by its quality alone, or does our approval of its creator matter?

This same issue comes up in classical music sometimes. Sergei Prokofiev wrote a virtuosic range of music, from atonal, technical pieces to heartbreaking melodic works (and some compositions that encompassed both styles). Yet by all accounts, he was a narcissist and cruelly bullied his fellow music students when he studied at a conservatory. Richard Wagner, a 19th century German composer, is widely regarded as a genius. His music is powerful and beautiful. Yet he was quite anti-semitic.

Their music does not overtly reflect the flaws in these composers. They are explorations of the human mind and soul, and on their own, they are beautiful. I listen to Prokofiev and Wagner’s music and enjoy it. The art, I believe, is praiseworthy. And the artists? Perhaps in the capacity of composers, they are worthy of applause. Perhaps in the capacity of people, not so much. Where the line between creator and personality exists is difficult to say.

This question is further complicated in artists that are alive today. To support their art as consumers and fans is to support the person. I’m not sure where our responsibility as consumers of art lies, but it’s an interesting question to consider.

My voice may never fully recover but it was worth it

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I’m not a particularly loud person. Before coming to college, the type of concert I attended most often were orchestral performances. Though those may sometimes become the occasion for a bit of cheering, there is very rarely any screaming. But every time I go to Diya Jale, I come back with a few fewer functioning vocal chords than I had when I walked in through Bailey’s doors.

Diya Jale is a celebration of Diwali (the Hindu festival of lights) and an Indian-American cultural showcase. The show tonight included performances from the a cappella group Tarana, music group SPIC MACAY, and dance groups Nazaqat, Tarana, Cornell Sitara, Cornell Anjali, Big Red Raas, Break Free, and Cornell Bhangra. (I have a personal soft spot for the last one, as my wonderfully talented roommate Isha is on the team.) Actor and comedian Omi Vaidya (of Hollywood and Bollywood fame) also featured, which was awesome.

What strikes me about all the groups that performed at Diya Jale was their combination of precision and intensity. Some groups exhibited one characteristic more heavily than the other. For example, SPIC MACAY’s singers and instrumentalists had to be extremely precise in their intonation and annunciation. I have no idea how the vocalists got all of the words out so fast. The Nazaqat dancers’ synchronization of hand gestures was mesmerizing. On the other hand, the performances by Big Red Raas and Cornell Bhangra were about eight minutes of pure concentrated energy. Even so, it was clear that all the groups paid great attention to all the little details (facial expression, for example) and brought an incredible amount of concentration to their art. After (and usually during) every performance, the audience would scream and applaud. With so much energy up on stage, it would have been hard for the audience not to reflect it.

I think it’s amazing that I have the opportunity to go to performances like these. There are few other places that bring together so many different groups. Each one brought out a different element of Indian-American culture; some were more traditional, others were more of a fusion, and some were not technically Indian-associated. Even within the groups, there were fusion elements. Nazaqat, which seemed generally more traditional, danced a segment to Shakira’s Cheap Thrills. And although it didn’t feature tonight, I have seen my roommate choreograph a bhangra segment to Old Town Road. And it looked amazing. This specific mixture of styles and cultures is replicable in few other places, and I’m so glad I got to see it tonight. And if I have to drink honey and lemon for the rest of this week, I guess that’s just what I’ll do.

Between Fantasy and Reality: Spirited Away

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I grew up watching movies from Studio Ghibli, and out of all of them, I think Spirited Away might be my favorite. For anyone reading this post who hasn’t seen it, I would highly recommend it. The story follows a girl named Chihiro, who stumbles across an abandoned theme park with her parents as they are moving to their new home. While there, her parents start pigging out at an abandoned restaurant (which is always a great idea), and things go downhill from there. It turns out that Chihiro is trapped in the spirit world, which is centered around a bath house run by a witch. Chihiro has to find a way to free herself and her parents with the help of a boy/spirit named Haku. It’s a wonderful coming of age story that also deals with themes of environmental destruction, identity crises, and capitalism gone out of control — yet it still remains an uplifting watch. I cannot say enough good things about it, but there are a few things in particular that stand out about Spirited Away.

To begin with, the world-building of Spirited Away is incredible. The spirit world that Chihiro finds herself in is full of references to historical, religious, spiritual, and cultural elements fairly unique to Japan. On top of the elements that might be unfamiliar to an international audience, the world Hayao Miyazaki created is complex and full of magic. Even for a domestic audience, the story requires a lot of world-building in order to make sense. Despite these challenges, the world of Spirited Away ends up feeling comfortable. And the writers don’t accomplish this immersion with massive amounts of verbal exposition. What Chihiro (and therefore the audience) needs to know, other characters explain to her at natural times. Even though the spirit world is complex, it’s introduced quietly and in a way that makes sense.

One aspect that really helps with this world-building (and another reason why I love the movie so much) is the high-quality animation. The animators of Spirited Away clearly did not cut corners. There are so many little sections of the movie that zoom out from the plot and just depict the scenery, people, or buildings of the spirit world. Though not strictly necessary to the plot, they help to create a sense of the space the story exists in. This use of “extra” animation to flesh out the setting is also used to flesh out the characters. In one scene, an over-worked spirit in charge of the bath house’s boiler room pauses in his work to take a sip right out of the spout of a tea-kettle. This little detail is only seconds long, probably required a lot of extra animation, and again, wasn’t extremely necessary to the plot. At the same time, it non-verbally gives us information about his “cups-are-for-the-weak” personality. The movie is full of these little non-verbal moments — in fact, the lack of dialogue in Spirited Away is comparable to movies with live actors. While we are used to seeing actors react to information purely with facial expressions, this eloquent silence is harder to pull off in animated films. Spirited Away does so with surprising realism.

The thing I think I love the most about Spirited Away is the way it captures reality — and not just through the animation. This is a bit of a strange statement, as the movie falls quite firmly in the fantasy category. I believe any good fantasy, however, has to reflect reality in some way. One of the scenes I especially love is one in which Chihiro has to make her way down a flight of rickety stairs suspended over a plummet down to a train track below. It’s dark, the wood creaks, and Chihiro sits and scoots down the first few steps before one of them breaks and she runs the rest of the way down. I’ve always so empathized with her in this scene; her reactions seem so like the way I would behave in a similar situation. Chihiro herself feels like a real girl. Her arc isn’t one of a noble heroine coming into her own or of a spoiled brat remedying her ways. She starts out as a slightly whiny, generally kind-hearted, and fairly ordinary girl and becomes extraordinary because of her extraordinary circumstances.

If you ever have the chance to watch Spirited Away or any other Ghibli movie, I would highly recommend doing so. The amount of care and originality put into the animation, plot, and characters of this film have made it one of my favorite movies of all time.

Keeping Up with Flora Rose

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When Nel de Mûelenaere, historian and Flora Rose expert extraordinaire, mentioned that she’d first gotten acquainted with our building’s namesake while procrastinating in Brussels, my thought was, ‘Wow. This Flora Rose really got around.’

I’ve been living in Rose House for a couple months now, so I’ve gotten pretty used to throwing around Flora Rose’s name. I’d assumed that she was a Cornell graduate or faculty member with a history of academic and philanthropic achievements. But I’d hardly expected her name to turn up in a record in Brussels.

It turns out that’s not the only place she turned up. She was born on what was at the time the Western frontier– Denver Colorado– and moved all by herself to go to school at Columbia. She also was a frequent guest of Eleanor Roosevelt’s at the White House. The amount of things she did in her life was also mind-blowing. She was a pioneer of home economics, a nutrition expert who provided aid in a decimated post-World War I Belgium, and the first person to officially issue a mixed quantitative-qualitative survey, which comprehensively summed up the health lives of Belgian children.

It seems like history can’t quite keep up with her. Despite all her achievements, she’s not very well known. The “first” qualitative-quantitative survey on record occurs fifteen years after Ms. Rose was issuing hers. And it’s quite easy to forget, looking back, exactly how progressive she was. As a pioneer of “home economics,” which in the modern mind is associated with the consuming and conservative housewife mold of the 50s, she may not get all the respect she deserves. At the time of its debut in colleges, home economics was about listening to the voices of mothers and wives and making their lives easier. Flora Rose legitimately valued these homemakers while recognizing through her own actions that a homemaker wasn’t the only thing a woman had to be. She never married, preferring to live with her educational and life partner, Martha Van Rensselaer.

Despite her achievements and character, all I knew Flora Rose for was a name on a building. I found tonight’s Rose Cafe to be incredibly valuable. It’s an honor and a great commemorative gesture to name a building after someone. But that can only go so far in preserving the memory of a great woman. Nel de Mûelenaere’s heartfelt discussion of Flora Rose’s life opened my eyes both to how worthy this woman was of a building, but also how time can cause people’s stories to slowly fade away. The study of history is a guard against this erasure, which is why I really appreciate Nel de Mûelenaere’s dedication to studying– and remembering– this wonderful woman.

Cancer and Community

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I’m not exactly sure what I expected out of the Cancer Resource Center Walkathon. Despite the heaviness of the issue that the CRC deals with, I didn’t think it would be a somber event. Still, I was surprised by just how vibrant it was.

The walkathon took place at Cass Park, a beautiful venue with a lake right alongside it. There were clowns in bright colors, people holding up paper mustaches at the photo booth, and children running around with face paint. Right in the center of the tents and booths, a woman gave a group of participants a lesson in Zumba. Dogs milled about on their leashes, noses in the air to catch the scent of pancakes, and I saw one cat cruising around in a stroller. The course for the runners and walkers was lined with live musicians, DJs, the Cornell gymnastics team, and even a Tai Chi class.

I was also surprised by the sheer number of people. Dozens of bands and organizations turned out for the event. From my place in the middle of the line of walkers, I could never see the front as it curved through the paths of Cass Park. Community members, caretakers, survivors, and patients in hospice all came out to support the CRC and stand together. I’ve never considered Ithaca a particularly large community, but clearly it can pull together for a good cause.

I’ve heard people say that the best fundraisers are the ones that are reminiscent of the character of their organization. The CRC Walkathon did just that. House Fellow Jason Hungerford, a member of the CRC’s Board of Directors and a survivor himself, told us a bit about the CRC before the walk. He said that the CRC is meant to provide support to patients, families, and caretakers so they don’t feel alone. The walk wasn’t meant to be a quiet event, or one reminiscent of the sadness and struggle that comes with cancer. It was full of buttons with blunt slogans like “Cancer sucks,” jazz music, and an entire community. It was an amazingly bright and fun show of solidarity. It’s an event and an organization that I wish was available for everyone whose lives have been touched by cancer.

The Trials and Tribulations of the the Tragically Unphotogenic

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I believe that it is a fact of life that having a good headshot comes in handy. Humans are notoriously good at facial recognition, so seeing someone’s face is a lot more memorable than just hearing a name. Still, they’re not necessarily the first thing someone considers when thinking about professional life. For a long time, I thought headshots were only for Broadway performers or aspiring movie stars. But even when I realized that I should really have one for my still-unfinished LinkedIn account, I had no idea where I was supposed to get one.

Good headshots are hard to come by, as they’re hardly a DIY endeavor. I’ve yet to see a professional headshot selfie, and even if I could rope a friend into taking a semi-professional photo, the background would have to be whatever bit of uncovered dorm-room wall we could find. On top of that, I am somewhat tragically unphotogenic. I have the tendency to look like I don’t have a soul whenever I smile for a camera. The various school, government, and friend mandated pictures of me are all embarrassing to various degrees.

Fortunately, the headshots taken this evening by Patricia Wall were not like the other school, government, and friend mandated pictures. Namely, she didn’t just take one picture and let me deal with the facial contortion I chose for the picture later. Instead, she gave everyone tips on how to sit, took a few pictures each, and let us look at them afterwards so we could decide if we liked them. For that, I’m extremely grateful. Furthermore, I’m grateful that I had the opportunity to get a professional photo taken of me. It’s a small detail, but an important one, and something I would have had a hard time getting on my own.

I’m looking forward to finally having a good picture of me.

 

How to Write a Meta-Blog Post

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I haven’t done too much blogging in the past. On one occasion, I took the position of “tour blogger” when an orchestra I was in traveled to Argentina and Uruguay. Those blogs dealt mostly in a “today’s greatest hits” run-through of our itinerary for the parents back at home, with the occasional cultural comparison or musings on music at the end. But I’ve never gotten the chance to blog about events like those Rose Scholars get to go to. I’ve certainly never written a blog about a seminar about blogging. This is my first-ever meta-blog, and I’m thoroughly enjoying myself.

According to Zachary Grobe, the seminar leader for “How to Write a Blog Post,” the goal for this blog is to describe our experiences of events rather than just to summarize them. We’re meant to focus in on the aspects of the activities that interest us and expand on them.

In a lot of ways, Mr. Grobe’s presentation was a great example of that. Though he presented various small examples to help illustrate what made a good (or bad) blog post, his main focus was a subject that interests him quite a bit: film. As so many of the Rose events are movies, he gave us a short introduction to analyzing camera work, sound track, and spacing on screen. His passion for film was contagious, and now I can’t wait to watch a movie just so I can pay attention to cuts.

A seminar where a speaker gets up and presents a bullet-point list of the do’s and don’t’s of blogging can only be so interesting. But because Mr. Grobe introduced the concept of blogging through a lens of something he cares deeply about, the seminar was engaging.

We’ve all heard the phrase “do as I say, not as I do.” That was not the case for Mr. Grobe’s presentation. Everything he said about focusing on your interests and your takeaways was backed up by the way he presented his information. I tried to keep that in mind in the course of this meta-blog, and I intend to keep it in mind in future posts.