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Tearful Photography at the Katzen by Kendall Breitman

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It’s Laurel Nakadate’s party, and she’ll cry if she wants to.

In an acknowledgement to loneliness, Nakadate’s photography exhibition “365 Days: A Catalogue of Tears” chronicles images captured over a one-year span of everyday crying. The Brooklyn, N.Y., native’s pictures are part of the Podestra Collection, which has been touring the States. The Katzen Arts Center at American University will be displaying 283 of the 365 photographs from Sept. 3 to Dec. 14.

The inspiration for the project came from social networking websites such as Facebook, and the constant portrayal of happiness shown through pictures and status updates. Instead, Nakadate took part in one year of constant sadness. The project started Jan. 1, 2010, and was completed Dec. 31, 2010.

For the project, Nakadate rented hotel rooms for one hour at a time where she devoted herself to crying. Most of the pictures in her collection include images taken in these hotel rooms, as well as some taken on airplanes and outdoors as she traveled around the U.S. Characterized by dark shadowed tones and oftentimes nudity, Nakadate’s photos also vividly portray feelings of alienation and the vulnerability of the young human body. Although the entire collection could not fit on the walls of the Katzen Arts Center, the exhibit is still daunting. At first glance the photographs seem overwhelming, as the images line the walls one after another and reach the high ceilings of the museum.

Nakadate’s provocative pictures include the young woman crying in front of a mirror, staring longingly out of a hotel window and even laying naked on the shore of a river. No picture in the collection is the same, but each portrays sorrow in a different and cohesive way. Overall, the exhibit leaves one feeling a little uncomfortable. The images of Nakadate are visually striking, but an entire room packed floor to ceiling with complete sadness is not exactly heartwarming — but that is the point.

Although the exhibit may come off as strange and discomforting, that is the goal of Nakadate’s work. Why should something as natural as nudity and sadness make people so uncomfortable?  These emotions are a major aspect of human life, but social networking sites have evolved to completely ignore these feelings. Nakadate’s photography exhibition takes a stand against all of this. If people refuse to put these kinds of pictures of Facebook, fill a whole room with them.

“365 Days: A Catalogue of Tears” is a creative collection. Although out of the ordinary, Nakadate’s work shows a thought-provoking stance on loneliness. When visitors leave feeling uncomfortable and ask themselves why, it is proof that the exhibition did its job.

Do not go to this exhibit for happiness and laughs. But, if you are looking for a unique and inspiring outlook on the social world, this is a great exhibit to visit.

Kendall Breitman is a current junior at American University.  Originally from Havertown, Pennsylvania, Kendall is in DC studying pre-law and print journalism.  She is also the assistant editor for the University’s newspaper, The Eagle.

This piece was selected as a finalist in the 2012 DC Student Arts Journalism Challenge, an annual competition designed to identify and support talented young arts writers.

 

Arias with a Twist by Alex Leidy

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Watching Arias with a Twist, I was reminded of nothing so much as the iconic Looney Toons short “Duck Amuck.” For those unfamiliar with it, the short involves Daffy Duck being tormented by a capricious cartoonist who keeps redrawing the landscape to put him in ever-stranger situations. With a little tweaking, this works as a pretty accurate summation of Arias with a Twist – here, drag queen Joey Arias plays Daffy Duck role, while Obie Award-winning puppeteer Basil Twist is the cartoonist constantly reshaping the world around Arias. Twist, represented by the six puppeteers who bring his vision to life, is never seen until the very end of the production, but his presence is inescapable; it’s evident in every aspect of the imaginative set pieces which Arias is placed into, which incorporate puppets, sets, and projections to create a number of richly visual fantasy worlds on stage. Twist’s bottomless imagination has Joey Arias abducted by aliens, sent to Hell, and rampaging through New York like a glamorous Godzilla, just to name a few of the best set pieces in the show. For Arias’ part, he gamely sings his way through the various transformations of the world around him, doing numbers by Led Zepplin, Billie Holiday, and the Beatles, among others, but despite getting first billing in the title, Arias with a Twist is much more Basil Twist’s show than Joey Arias’.

Arias is being presented at Woolly Mammoth as part of the Basil Twist retrospective playing at theatres across DC, and the show bears all of the hallmarks of his unique brand of puppetry. Over the past ten years, Twist has become one of the best-known puppet artists in the United States with an abstract, non-narrative approach to the art form that can be seen in all of the shows that were a part of the Twist retrospective.

Even Petrushka, his fairly literal interpretation of Stravinsky’s ballet, begins with what Twist describes as “an abstract fantasia” where shapes move and swirl in time to the composer’s “Sonata for Two Pianos.” The phrase “abstract fantasia” does a great job of capturing the feel of one of Twist’s original pieces, which thrive on a rich sense of spectacle and whimsy in a way more commonly associated with films – especially animation – than with theatre. Considered amongst the rest of his shows, Arias With a Twist is absolutely a Basil Twist production. There’s a bit of token narrative through line, but it’s mostly a surreal collage of lush set pieces that seamlessly transition into each other with the aid of shifting fabric backdrops and projections. The puppets are simply incredible in both their beauty and their variety.

Dancing demons, octopus tentacles, and a swing band comprised of gorgeous marionettes from the 1930s are only a few of the visual treats on offer – I don’t want to give away too much, as the reveals of each new puppet provide some of the best surprises of the show. All of the puppeteers in Arias deserve a lot of credit for the work they do in making Basil Twist’s fantasy worlds a reality; their performances, while invisible, are what make Arias with a Twist truly incredible to watch.

What about Joey Arias, the titular star who is the only visible performer for almost the entire show? Unfortunately, he’s the weak link in this collaboration – which is not to say that he’s a bad performer. Joey Arias has a powerful voice, and a lot of the jazzier songs he sings are beautiful. He can whip out a flawless Billie Holliday on a whim, and a slowed-down take on “All By Myself” that he sings midway through the show was close to being a showstopper. However, when his songs drift towards the rock end of the spectrum, the charm of Arias’ singing starts to run out. A Beatles medley he sings during a trip on magic mushrooms ultimately misses the psychedelic charm of the original songs, and the rendition of Led Zepplin’s “Kashmir” he opened the show with was just shy of being uncomfortably screechy. If those two numbers had been all that hindered Arias’ performance it honestly wouldn’t have been that big a deal, but the dialogue also left a lot to be desired. I’m not sure if it’s fair to pin that on Joey Arias – I don’t know if he wrote the dialogue or if it was in collaboration with Basil Twist or another artist – but the show’s weakest moments took place when Joey Arias was just talking to himself. I just didn’t think any of the jokes were funny. The sense of humor seemed to be placed pretty firmly on a middle school level, mostly consisting of Arias doing something sexual while radiating an air of “gosh, I’m just so transgressive.” It’s a lot like the early seasons of South Park before the creators started seeing dick jokes as a means to an end rather than an end in themselves. I personally that sense of humor in small doses, but it was a lot to take for an hour and a half.

Ultimately, this comes down to personal taste more than anything; if your idea of a killer joke consists entirely of someone making a sexual gesture and acting like they’ve blown your mind, then Arias with a Twist just might be a laugh riot.

When all’s said and done, the weak songs and dialogue aren’t enough to weigh down the incredible visual spectacle of Arias with a Twist, and those things are subjective enough that any criticism of them should be taken with a grain of salt. This is a beautiful show that’s absolutely worth seeing, but its problems are just serious enough that they get in the way of it being a really amazing piece. I do hope that Basil Twist and Joey Arias don’t just rest on their laurels with this one, because with some tweaks and edits they could go a long way towards making the piece truly unforgettable instead of just great.

Alex Leidy is a junior theater major at the University of Maryland.

This piece was selected as a finalist in the 2012 DC Student Arts Journalism Challenge, an annual competition designed to identify and support talented young arts writers.

The Golden Dance Experiment by Lindsey Golden

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As an artist I am constantly striving for new ways to express the vast array of swirling emotions within my being, and living in Baltimore has inspired the dance piece I am currently finishing: “Baltimore…the Dirty-B.” The piece explores the contrast I see among the resident hobo, downtown lawyer, wealthy socialite, and gang leader in Baltimore, and plays with the way different worlds co-exist. This is a concept that reaches far beyond my backdoor, to cities throughout America. But Baltimore has developed in a way that intensifies this harsh contrast, with dangerous back-allies and “blue-light districts” (the blue lights indicate heavy crime areas) interwoven among high-rent skyscrapers and fine-dining restaurants.  The movement in the dance is introspective and dark, with a little narrative quality. The composition is split into four sections, with a combination repeating in the beginning, middle, and end of each section, demonstrating that section’s theme. Each section is dedicated to a different worldview in Baltimore. The first three are: the wealthy couple shopping for wares, the desperate homeless family struggling to be seen, and the drug dealer on the street corner hiding beneath a cold stare. The last section combines the pieces together.

Choreographer Lindsey Golden

I’m making the “..the Dirty-B” for my new dance company, The Golden Dance Experiment, a professional contemporary ensemble with a focus on modern dance and contemporary ballet.  All of the dance performed by The Golden Dance Experiment will feature music by the company’s resident composer, Seth Milder. Seth is trained in classical and electric guitar, electric bass, and electronic music composition. Last year I formed The University of Baltimore Contemporary Dance Company as an arts education program for University of Baltimore students interested in dance. The company is a little piece of my soul — I make all costumes, choreograph all pieces, teach all technique classes, create all marketing materials, and organize all photo shoots. It’s a labor of love for me, and I am very proud of the students who participated in it this year. “Linked in Motion,” is a piece I originally composed for The University of Baltimore Contemporary Dance Company based on a poem I wrote. For that piece, Seth and I combined his classical guitar with my vocal recording of the poem, adding in electronic waves of sound to intensify the auditory experience. We performed the piece at the Baltimore Theater Project’s recent ‘Open Marley Night,’ and based on positive feedback I am working to add a second section to the piece for The Golden Dance Experiment. For the second part of “Linked in Motion”, my plan is to incorporate my flute playing along with new guitar work. The choreography is a modern trio with airy and soft movement. I hope that the connection between the dancers and the poetry create an understanding of the way our closest relationships are like trickling rivers, climbing up and down a mountain and dripping slowly into a still pond.

I frequently start my choreographic process by transferring my ideas into drawings I make in a visual journal.  From these images I develop movement concepts and a structure for the choreography.  This process helps me take my ideas to new places I would never see by working from dance improvisation alone. I’m regularly inspired by dance artists I have worked with in the past, visual art, live African drumming, classical ballet and choreographers and companies including Paul Taylor, Jose Limon, Merce Cunningham, and the American Ballet Theater. Ballet was my life while growing up, but as a student of the James Madison University Theater and Dance program, I began to make the switch from ballerina to contemporary dance artist.  In 2009 I graduated and began to dance professionally, with AriDen Dance Company and DanceAntonini, and both companies have influenced my work as a dancer, teacher, and choreographer.

Last month I was asked to lead a lecture-demonstration for a local elementary school hip-hop dance event.  I jumped at the idea, and at the Hip-Hop Dance Party at Stoneleigh Elementary School, 100+ boys and their mothers were entertained with a hip-hop duet I choreographed and performed with The University of Baltimore Contemporary Dance Company member Sue Wu. We rocked the crowd by combining hip-hop, break-dance, and contemporary partnering. The performance was followed by a thirty-minute lesson where I taught the students a section of the hip-hop duet, and led the students in a dance improvisation exercise. Dance is my joy, my passion, and my way of life, and I hope you’ll check out The Lindsey Golden Project website, which includes a detailed calendar of events, as well as original poetry, dance blogs, video of past performances, and photo galleries.

Lindsey Golden graduated from James Madison University with a B.A. in Justice Studies and a minor in Dance. During her training she performed with the Fairfax Ballet, as well as JMU contemporary dance companies The Associate Dance Ensemble, Contemporary Dance Ensemble and the Virginia Repertory Dance Company. Lindsey performed at the American College Dance Festival twice, and was honored to perform in the Gala Concert in 2008. Ms. Golden began her professional career performing with modern dance companies based in the Washington D.C. area: DanceAntonini and AriDen Dance Company. In 2011, Lindsey began to focus her attention on choreography and arts education by forming the University of Baltimore Contemporary Dance Company.  The company was featured in “The Open Marley Night” at the Baltimore Theater Project. In 2012, Lindsey became a member of Dance Baltimore, and branched off to direct and perform with the professional contemporary ballet and modern company, The Golden Dance Experiment.  The Lindsey Golden Project website reflects all of Ms. Golden’s artistic works including poetry, music compositions, and dance choreography, as well as news articles and blogs regarding upcoming events: http://lindseygolden.com.

Why I Struggle to Make Photographs by Andrew Zimmermann

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I work with a large format camera, a heavy steel contraption that is older than I am, which puts images onto 8×10 inch sheets of film. With my tripod attached, the camera weighs about 40 pounds, and people often ask me why I bother using this sort of camera. To keep things simple, I often tell them that I love the sharpness and dense tonality of the prints that are ultimately produced from such big negatives, but honestly, this is only about half the truth, and not the half that really matters. The real truth is that the most essential thing I get from my enormous camera is focus—not in the sense of lenses and light but in terms of my own attention. The large camera helps me focus, and see.

For me to produce an image, I carry my 40-pound camera—which I prop over my shoulder, like an old musket—through the landscape until I find something that seems relevant to me. I then set up the camera, and focus it with a dark cloth over my head. I calculate an exposure based on the available light, and then shoot, exposing a single sheet of film, which I eventually develop by hand in trays of chemicals in my darkroom. After the negative is produced, it has to be printed, which involves several hours in the darkroom. I also perform several campaigns of hand-work on each print, first with a solution of reducer (or “bleach”) applied with watercolor brushes in order to lighten areas of the print, and then with neutral watercolor to add tone and texture to areas of the image that I still feel need adjustment. Creating a single print involves at least 8 hours of my time, and sometimes considerably more. This whole lengthy process is always in my mind as I look for my next photograph, and it forces me to make choices, to decide what I think is really important and what is really worth capturing.

In this day and age, when one can take a photograph with an iPhone and moments later post it to an online album or print it out on a desktop inkjet, spending 8 hours to create a photographic image may seem like an absurd difficulty. But I feel that this difficulty adds something fundamental to my work. Things that have been labored over for a long time express the care and attention given them, even if not always in an overt manner.

An image from Zimmermann's "Ways to Lexington" series.

It’s less a question of perfection than of character— think of a chair handmade by a woodworker, or a bowl hand-thrown by a ceramist. In many ways these objects are less perfect, less seamless, than plastic chairs or bowls cast at a factory in China and sold by the millions at Wal-Mart, and yet they are so much more alive! I choose the big camera and the long process because for me, the difficulty of working with this equipment and these materials parallels the difficulty of struggling to truly see—and truly appreciate—the world around me.

I recently completed a series called “Ways to Lexington”, which is a group of landscapes of the Shenandoah Valley made more or less in response to the recent decline and death of my grandparents, who lived in Lexington, VA since before I was born. I had initially intended the work to portray my bright recollections of the landscape around my grandparents’ old farmhouse, but the events taking place in my life at the time ended up seeping into the work and coloring it in somewhat darker tones.

I am engaged in the physical and technical photographic process because through it I am able to share a part of myself that really sees with whoever cares to look. Every series is different, but they are bound together by an attempt to look at the landscape and find something in it that is both particular to me and engaging to others.

Andrew Zimmermann is an Arlington, Virgina based photographer who works with large format cameras. His work has been widely exhibited around the Washington, DC area and in numerous venues throughout the United States. He recently received a Professional Fellowship from the Virginia Museum of Fine Arts for his body of work “Common Place”, which documents the landscape within one mile of his suburban home in Arlington.

To see more of the artist’s work, check out his website: www.andrewzphotographs.com

[POEM] Maybe It’s A Tin Ear by Tim Butterworth

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Maybe it’s a tin ear for poetry.

“Do unto others” didn’t balance like a see-saw when you heard it?
You were playing with fire while others sang about whose land this is?

Sunday mornings the others gaped at visions of camels and needles, but no image came to you? Sad.

In history class you forgot Eleanor’s 4 freedoms, but spurred on the 4 horsemen, knowing they would never ride up your gated street. You heard “pursuit of happiness,” but missed “created equal”? Heard Reagan’s siren voice and quoted “Greed is good” on dates? How’d that work for you?

Oh God. Not really? You shrugged along with a pedantic Ayn Rand, but couldn’t see the stars sparkling over the heads of two guys floating down a river? Others might be wherever there’s a fight so hungry people can eat, but you headed for the cafeteria, right?

Even that old man who’s heart was breaking for those poor wretches in the storm? You felt no pelting rain, no pity, no poetry?

Oh yeah, you heard the workers throwing off their chains all right. The clank scared you to death, didn’t it? But you never hummed the Marseillaise, how does it go, “Allons enfants de la da dah dhadedah?”

Your favorite was those Valkyries riding with a whiff of napalm? Of course it was.

Art museums. Ever stare in shock and awe at that big painting of a small town in Spain? At Whole Foods, Millet’s stoop labor never comes between you and the arugula?

You stay involved, do you? You cheer choleric campaigns in October, but even by January miss . . . what? You think out there somewhere there’s a green light on the end of a dock beckoning you and the rest of America? That’s because you never felt the force of some half-naked Indian’s truth and love. You never woke up to dreams of justice rolling down like a blue river from purple mountains.

I guess that’s it, a deaf ear for poetry.

Tim Butterworth, an Institute for Policy Studies associate fellow, is a former teacher, union negotiator and New Hampshire state representative. His life revolves around family, politics, arts, literature and writing, gardening, timber harvest and making maple syrup. This year he is immersed in the political-cultural mash-up in DC – www.ips-dc.org

Image from Gotham Gazette