Mind the Gap: May 2009 Archives
I was shopping in a local Baltimore grocery store the other day when I spotted Terry O'Quinn, the actor who plays John Locke on Lost. I didn't realize at first why I thought I knew him, and so I admit I sort of stared him down for a second while I tried to recall where we met. Once I realized who he was, I felt bad for intruding on his psychic space and promptly returned my attention to my own produce. Brian nudged me to say something to him and later my dad said he would have asked him about his show, but approaching him--even to just say, "Hey, love your work!"--never even occurred to me.
But later it made me wonder: Do performing artists want to engage in conversations with strangers about their work? Pause in their cereal selection for a thumbs up from a passing shopper? Or would they prefer to just be left alone? As a fan, what's the best response to this kind of situation?
We went to the roller derby this weekend, and it rocked! I think this is my new favorite sport.
The not-always-PC feminist I carry around in my head was not sure she was cool with this. The teams are made up of some kick-ass ladies, but they are also some unabashedly sexy chicks. In large part that's due to the previously mentioned kick-ass-edness these women exude, but the fishnets and tattoos and short skirts help, too. Never been? The Advocate laid out the paradoxical scene pretty colorfully:
The skating attire expresses each woman's personality in a manner somehow both burlesque and empowered at the same time. Short skirts, tight T-shirts, punk hair and knee socks are combined with a determined stance and padding tough enough to protect a football player. One mini-skirted skater takes a tumble, revealing a defiant message printed on her undies: "Kiss My Skates."
And so I got to thinking. I agonize over being a girl in the 2009 music world. I hear tales of misogyny among professionals and teachers. I watch music documentaries and wonder why the only women interviewed are "fans". I am annoyed by "women's concerts" and talking about "women's issues" in the field, but I'm awake enough to see why people still need reminded about them and poked regularly anyway. Sometimes you just don't think to look for the girl until it's pointed out that she's missing (or just over there playing the flute).
What I loved about the Charm City Roller Girls (that's one of their PR photos up there on the right) was that in all the glitter and sweat and knee pads, it didn't feel directed at any of that kind of statement-making. It looked to me like they were 100% dressed up and playing for themselves on their own terms, for the joy and pride they took from it all, and it looked like a hell of a good (if occasionally bruising) time. That never seems to be as easy to accomplish as it sounds, but when it happens, it's a powerful thing to watch.
Struggling some with the myriad communication tools currently available? Despite the busy buzz of the Twitterati and the Skypers and the Bloggers (though at least the number of people with the Bluetooth cellphone attachments glued into their ears seems to have waned), all of this chatter conveniently brought to you by 21st-century technology has left more than a few people feeling paradoxically isolated. We can say a lot, but what are we really saying?
This letter to the NYTimes provided a pretty powerful view of how the bits and bytes of new apps don't fill certain voids and can actually unintentionally cover them over with a shiny coat of Let's Pretend. An important reality check as we mosey down the yellow brick road, it seems.
So, the other day I was listening to a CD (not that unusual), and my attention kept drifting to the point that I'd forget it was even playing because it sounded to me like directionless sonic doodling. So I'd stop and start the track over, but I became increasingly hostile each time I had to hit repeat. Why would you write this down? I wished I had the composer on speed dial so I could make him tell me.
Then I took a deep breath and got back in touch with reality. We can argue about whether it's the composer's responsibility to help me "get it" or not, but seriously, sometimes I think we could all use a What to Listen for in New Music reference guide. Or at least I could. There are just those pieces that elude me like those magic 3-D posters they sell in mall kiosks. I'm sure I'm just missing something that's waiting in the chaos to jump out and bite me, and I just wish someone would tell me what that was.
At the Conference of World Affairs that I mentioned last month, Roger Ebert does this thing called "Interruptus". On the first day he screens a film in full for the audience, and then the next day they start playing it again from the beginning and whenever someone in the audience wishes, she just raises her hand and can stop the film. This year the film was Chop Shop and the director, Ramin Bahran, was there on stage, as was the film critic Jim Emerson. As the scenes were reviewed, Bahran chatted about the challenges and goals of the project and how he did what he did and why--why he put the camera there, why he amped up the audio here, how he got that actor to make that face and those pigeons to fly that direction. Some of it was technical, some of it was quite esoteric. Emerson and the audience made comments and asked questions and everyone walked away with this deep understanding of the film and the the director, as well as a richer conception of the larger world of (well, at least indie) filmmaking in 2009. It was AMAZING!
Would this kind of thing work with music? Is anyone already doing something like this? I like the concept because it neither dumbs down the art nor infantilizes the audience. In fact, it actually restarts the dialogue we supposedly blew up a few decades back, empowering the creator to take risks and the audience to question, poke, and grow alongside the artists and the art form. Anyone want to try?
We are surrounded by tensions--art/life, simplicity/complexity, beauty/tragedy--and this short poetically offers all that profundity while skipping the cliche. That said, it's cartoon about a mouse and a cat head. Roll the video.
Video/animation by Chris Ware, music by Andrew Bird, created for "This American Life--Live!"
I walked into Staples yesterday for some file folders and came out 12 minutes later with a new desk chair. Now, you hardly care that I have reluctantly traded in the small, hard piece of wood I've have sat on for the past couple decades (Seriously! My dad stained it to match my desk when I was ten.), but my entire work worldview has been drastically improved via lumbar support--and I don't even know what that is! I was wandering in the wilderness of office supplies and BAM! I was saved. I had no idea such cushiony goodness was possible. Productivity is way up.
And that, indulgent readers, leads me to my actual point. I read Howard Mandel's response to Amanda Ameer, and particularly noted the part where he suggested that one thing women may want when it comes to attracting them to jazz is "comfortable, clean and affordable music venues." Based on personal observation, I'm not sure a good squirt of disinfectant is necessarily the issue, but it got me thinking about the question of comfort when it comes to experiencing art. Things that would seem on the surface to be trivial--I mean, who cares about leg room when profundity is on stage?--are the things we tend not to discuss but privately weigh when making decisions about how the ticket budget will be spent. Very long shows (four hours!), very late shows (doors at 11 p.m.!), shows in venues that are above my pay grade (what do you even wear to that?): Yeah, I've skipped a few of those out of concern for my own personal comfort. So is Mandel's proposal for welcoming the ladies correct?
Of course, more than a well-mopped floor and a pretty bathroom, what Mandel is talking about in his post is the psychic comfort patrons experience--that feeling of belonging and being welcome, where you've already picked a favorite wine on the list and someone in the crowd knows your name. You know how things work in this tribe, perhaps even consider yourself a bona fide member. Free time is a scarce resource for most, and at the end of the day who wants to spend it in a place that makes you feel awkward and uncomfortable, no matter how intriguing the art on offer?
Now, you may argue that challenge is part of the deal when it comes to art. And I can go with you there, but when and why is it needed and when is it not? A few weeks ago I was a contestant in the Take a Friend to the Orchestra project, and here again I think if you're at all concerned about the makeup of [insert art form here]'s audiences, offer yourself up as neighborhood welcome wagon. Not every venue posts the guidelines at the door. I love going to foreign countries; I love it best when there's a friend on the other end of my flight who speaks the local dialect and makes sure I understand how to get around. It's ultimately not the fact that I'm a married, middle-class white girl that keeps me turned off by certain events, it's really more just that silly first-day-of-school concern that I'll get lost on the way to gym and be stuck eating lunch by myself. Or that, like the desk chair incident, I simply have no idea how good the new will be and so have no reason yet to pay it any attention at all.
We've been watching the performing arts community adopt (and in some cases heedlessly lunge and in others scream and kick) their way into social media/web 2.0 technologies--revealing the wondrous potential and the scary, scary sinkholes we're navigating. So this week's question:
I love those moments when life reminds you to stop taking yourself so damn seriously. I find myself needing the direct tackle on this point quite a bit lately, and Baltimore (where this photo was shot) is a good place to be for that. Strolling down a city sidewalk past John Waters, as we did right after snapping this pic, also seems to help in that regard.Anyway, further in the pursuit of keeping perspective and reducing myopic stress this summer, we put in our vegetable garden this weekend (my real-world, hands-in-dirt stab at creativity) and contemplated the installation of a backyard hammock. And that leads pretty quickly to thoughts of summer reading (which leads even faster to afternoon naps, but let's leave that be for a moment.)
For anyone interested in exercising their library cards and reading along, blogger book club will be back next month, and so far on this season's reading list is The Invisible Dragon: Essays on Beauty, Revised and Expanded by Dave Hickey and The Whuffie Factor: Using the Power of Social Networks to Build Your Business by Tara Hunt.
What books are you schlepping to the beach this summer?
