Culture Event

I am doubling up on culture events next week, and there will be 4 blogs.  In  Absence of said blog this week, here is a picture of me filling up my car with gas.

Have a nice day.

Drama and Such

Unlike dance, I recently come to a great appreciation for drama. Until 2 years ago, my attitude towards plays was the same as most boys my age: “It’s acting without explosions and special effects. So what’s the point?” However that all changed when I went to see 12 Angry Men with my dad. It was awesome! The dialogue was intelligently written, the characters were interesting, and the presence of live, breathing actors on stage rather than pixilated actors really made an impression on me. Then, last summer I went to see Les Miserables in St. George, and was blown away. I even pirated a copy of the soundtrack! (I hadn’t signed the Honor Code at that point in my life). Therefore, I was not at all surprised that reading about drama in our textbook was quite interesting to me. I found the topic of catharsis to be particularly interesting. Catharsis is the purging of emotions (typically negative) by experiencing them vicariously through a play or movie. The play Oedipus is a perfect example of catharsis. By watching the play, our fear of the unknown may be purged. No matter what happens to us, it can never be as bad as what happened to Oedipus right?  

Unless you’re this kid I guess.

I also found the dramatic analysis of Romeo and Juliet to be interesting. I especially liked the analysis of symbols and motifs. The analysis points out that there is a love/death or womb/tomb motif all through the play. Juliet herself says “My grave is like to be my death bed.” Death and love are tied together in dialogue throughout the play, and are intertwined at the ending when Romeo and Juliet commit suicide for love. The book says that them committing suicide for love in the catacombs was a paradoxical tension aligning the womb (source of life) and the tomb (symbol of death). I say it was really just a more sophisticated way of saying what modern day t-shirt companies have told me:

And that’s probably why I’m not a critic.

I also found it interesting that plays were used by the Greeks as a sort of morality tale. Characters would have a certain tragic flaw, and this flaw would eventually lead to their downfall, providing a lesson of sorts. That seems to be a pretty effective method of teaching. For example, Oedipus’s tragic flaw was his obsessive pursuit for self knowledge. After watching this obsession lead Oedipus to have sex with his mom and gouge his eyes out, I think most Greeks probably got the point. Founding out about things such as catharsis and the use of drama as a tool for increasing morality or proving a point has really made me greater appreciate an art form I already had a great deal of respect for.

A Danse Macabre

I was surprised at how interesting I found learning about dance as an art form was. Being a white male, I have never considered myself to be a good or even adequate dancer. I have always viewed dancing as just something girls like, and therefore a good thing to do now and then when I’m with a girl I want to get with. Coincidentally, this is the same way I feel about watching The Notebook.

Every guy owns one copy for use in the right time. Admit it.

I also must say that I thoroughly enjoyed watching my high school’s dance team perform, but that had a lot more to do with raging hormones than an appreciation of the art form. And confession: I lied in my first sentence of this blog. When I began writing this, I thought that I would just lie and say that I have had some great epiphany and realized my love for dance, much like I discovered a latent interest in paintings and architecture. But who am I kidding? I still can’t get into dance. Sorry guys. Maybe my dislike of dance is just my body’s response to my inadequacy on the dance floor; an evolutionary guarding mechanism preventing me from public humiliation. Maybe I am not comfortable enough with my manhood to find an interest in something stereotypically “sissy.” But not only can I not get into the heavy stuff like ballet or cultural dances, but I can’t even get into dances that are “cool” and “hip!” I didn’t even like the movie Step Up! We watched a part of the ballet Swan Lake in class this week, and I tried to get into it, I really did. I memorized the different dance terms in a hope that if I could shout things like “That was a perfectly executed Pirouette!” maybe I could understand the beauty of it. No luck. I tried using the sad fact that any given male danseur is probably stronger than I will ever be to convince myself that there is no manlier calling than being a man dancing ballet (except of course being a lumberjack, the epitome of manhood). No Luck there either.

By looking at this photo you just grew 5 chest hairs.

Anyways, for whatever reason, I just can not get into dance. I have tried hard to appreciate it, and who knows, maybe an increased knowledge of it will help me embrace it (don’t count on it). You probably didn’t learn anything useful from this blog; in fact, I wouldn’t be surprised if you know less now that you have read it.  If nothing else, i hope that while this blog may not have been educational or even relevant, maybe it was enjoyable and funny.  Following that note, here is a completely irrelevant but funny picture.

I Have Changed.

I have found it interesting to talk about art from around the world in class. We have discussed art from all over Europe from many different time periods. It has made me really want to take a trip to Europe. I Feel that I would be able to better appreciate much of what is there now. I now know the history behind specific buildings such as the Parthenon, Pantheon, and the Haggia Sophia. In addition, I know various architectural styles and they are composed of. I could go to a Renaissance building and admire the arcades and pediments, go to an ancient Greek temple and tell my friends whether the columns are Doric or Ionic, I can go to a Romanesque church and explain the significance of the rose window.  

In addition to architecture, I have found that learning about paintings has been interesting. I feel that I have a much better analytical eye for art now, and can look for symbolism, themes, lines, and color contrasts to get an idea of what the artist way trying to convey. I feel that I have been able to connect with paintings on a much more emotional level than ever before. Before this class, I would have looked at Van Gogh’s Crows Over Cornfield and thought “His cornfield looks like vomit, what an idiot.”

Now however, I can look at the swirling shapes, abrupt end to the middle path, and the ominous appearance of the crows and see into the disturbed mind of a man about to end his life. This has been a great change for me, and I have never enjoyed art, or thinking about art like this before. I wish I had taken this class before I went to Washington D.C. last summer, as we stopped at the National Gallery of Art, and I would have appreciated it much more. I spent only an hour there, and felt that that was too long. Now however, I feel that I could be in there for 3 days and not be satiated. This class certainly has brought a profound change in the way I view art and the human experience

Drag Me to Hell Too

So this week I saw Drag Me to Hell, and I must say, it was a pretty interesting experience. I had never expected my Humanities class to lead me to a dollar theater to watch a horror film, but I am glad it did, otherwise I never would have seen this movie. It was made by the same director as the Evil Dead series (Sam Raimi), which I thoroughly enjoyed. It was very similar, just on a PG-13 scale. The humor was very much the same; a surreal mix of slapstick and gore. The scene where the giant hook falls on the demoness’s head, crushing it and shooting her eyeballs at the protagonist is a perfect example of this. The subject matter has been similar throughout the movies. The earlier Evil Dead movies dealt with zombies that had been reanimated by demonic magic/curses, and while this movie had no true zombies, several people were possessed by a demon, so it remained true to form. There was also a certain camera technique present during all the films. The camera starts away from the character, and then rushes towards them, almost as if it was attacking.  
While it seemed a bit silly at points, there were several things about the screenplay I liked. First of all, I loved the ending. SPOILER ALERT: True to the name of the film, the main character gets dragged down to hell at the end after the audience is tricked into thinking she is safe. I really liked that because it was a gutsy move on the part of the writers. People generally like happy endings that delicately and completely close the story. This ending is sad and spontaneous, with her being dragged to hell and then immediately ending before you realize what is going on. I also liked the fact that the movie acted as a sort of morality tale. The main character tries to be a good person, but in a moment of selfishness and greed denies an old woman an extension on her mortgage, and embarrasses her in public. Because of this one bad choice she is pursued by a demon and eventually spends an eternity burning in hell. I liked this because it tells us that even if we think we are nice and generally well-liked, we must be careful not to make greedy and selfish choices; even once. So while it was a little out there and not as scary as I hoped, overall, Drag Me to Hell was much better than most horror movies that come out as it attempted to convey a message and distinct style rather than just being an excuse for your girlfriend to hold on to you.

The Great War and the End of Ideals

Reading “The Great War, the Broken War-body and Modernism in the Works of Otto Dix” was extremely interesting to me. It explained the link between World War I and the birth of new art form Dadaism.

World War I really was a departure from earlier wars. In past wars, skill and knowledge would greatly increase the chances of survival. Men who were a good shot had an advantage over the enemy. Men who knew the terrain and spots to hold down had an increased chance of survival. Generally, men were killed by individuals and their bullets. A man aimed at a man, pulled the trigger, and killed him. It was as if he had won an individual fight; he had bested that man. I believe that contributed to the romanticism surrounding those wars. They were a sort of proving ground for men; a place where they could show their worth and becomes heroes. It was almost like a competition. In World War I however, a man pushed a button that would send a bomb to fragment 300 men. He had not proven himself or been a hero. He had not displayed marksmanship with a gun, dexterity with a sword, or cunning knowledge that bested the enemy. He had simply pressed a button. Likewise, the men killed were not worse soldiers than he; they were merely in the wrong place at the wrong time, and were now fragments; less men than mere combinations of muscle, bone and skin. The progression of technology had made the killing and maiming of men much more cruel, efficient, and gruesome on a large scale. It seems as though the war was often more of a conflict between man and machine than man vs. man.

Man vs. Mortar
Man vs. Tank
Man vs. Hand Grenade
Man vs. Mustard Gas

More so than any war before, fate determined those who lived, those who lived maimed, and those who died. With bombs, mortars and gas dropping from the sky there was little anyone could do to increase survival. Fate rather than skill and knowledge had become the determinant for success and survival. A 5 star general and a private would be just as likely to die if placed in the same position. This destruction of the individual in war is what shattered the dream of the romance and glory of war and serving your country. This philosophical change in attitude towards war can be seen in the art of the time. Compare this Romantic painting of the French Revolution to the Dadaist etching of World War I.

The first is glorious. These people have bested the enemy, won the war, and carry their flag to victory. These people are portrayed as heroes; they struggled through an intense battle but because of their heart, might, ,mind and strength were able to persevere. Now compare it to the second painting of the Stormtroopers. They are fearsome and grotesque. While they may be on their way to victory like the French above, they are certainly not portrayed as heroes. They are scarcley even human. And that is what I believe was the main difference of World War I. It removed the humanity from war. Rather than acting as individuals men became cogs in the war machine, extensions of military technology. Machines such as tanks, bombs and mines became the deciding factors in war; not the extent of the infantry’s skill and training. A bomb launched by a 5 year old or General Patton would kill the same amount of people. Men themselves became useful only as a body count, an indicator of whether their nation was victorious or defeated.  

Post-war Dadaist art also echoes with the changes from World War I. As the war ended, millions of young men were sent mentally, emotionally, and physically shattered. To repair their broken bodies, men were given prosthetic limbs and had holes in their faces replaced with painted metal. This once again shows the dehumanizing nature of the war. Even after the conflict, many men were part man part machine! This is displayed brilliantly in The Skat Players.

This portrays several veterans who have been “fixed” with machine parts trying to return to the their prior lives. It is possible only to a certain extent, as they must make grotesque adjustments such as holding cards with their feet.  

Dadaist art can defiantly be seen as a metaphor for World War I. With the Great War former ideals, standards, and norms were shattered, leaving only chaos. Dadaism was a commentary on this chaos. It realized that the world had changed, moved on. Things could never go back to the to the way they had been, with romantic and realistic paintings portraying man in an elevated state. Therefore Dada artists moved on too. Their art became chaotic, grotesque and disillusioned. The primary complaint against the Dada art is that it makes no sense, is just a messy assortment of colors, figures and images.

But then again, does one man pressing a button to end the lives of 500 strangers make sense? Does watching men’s lungs burn from the inside out from mustard gas make sense? And as for the complaint that Dada art is just a messy assortment of images and colors, look at a battlefield, isn’t it just a messy collage of body parts, scrap metal, dirt and blood?

The Savior on the Water

I went to The Window Box Art Gallery in downtown Provo today. There were a lot of really cool paintings and reproductions, but one in particular caught my attention. It was a painting of the Savior walking across the water to rescue the sailing disciples. Unfortunately, I could not find an image of the painting online, so I will have to do my best at describing it.  
The painting was created with oil paint on a canvas. Most of the painting was extremely dark and cool, made up of dark shades of blue, black and gray. The ship was in the back-left area of the painting, and as it was in the distance and the sun was setting, the ship is all black; more of a shadow than anything. The sky is dark and stormy with swirling dark blue and grays making the storm clouds. The color changes around the Savior however, as the sun is setting right above his head. This is the only area of the sky that is not covered in clouds. The setting sun casts an orange glow on Jesus and the water around him. These warm colors make Jesus jump out at you, emphasizing that he is truly the focus of the painting. He is wearing all white but is tinted orange and yellow with the reflection of the sun. The water around his feet is a much lighter blue, absorbing the glowing aura around him. The painting is very much horizontal, the motion of Jesus is a horizontal right towards the distant ship. It is symmetrical, with Jesus placed in the center and the setting sun is placed right above his head, giving him a heavenly glow. The lines are all swirling as it is a storm and visibility is hindered. The painting all seems hazy, much like Van Gogh’s self portraits. Jesus’s face is not clear; it just blends in with the storm around it. I thought this was cool, because the way Jesus’s body and face are hazy even though they are the focus of the painting makes him blend in with the rest of the landscape better. This creates a very surreal feel when viewing it because if you were there witnessing the event, this is how I think you would see it. With waves crashing, lighting flashing, and torrential rain coming down you wouldn’t be able to see every detail of Jesus; he would be a glowing, hazy figure. Likewise, the ship would be barely visible, just as it is here.  
The painting was by LDS artist J. Kirk Richards and was certainly a departure from the typical realistic, clear-cut paintings done by LDS artists. I hope more LDS artists will take risks and paint like him so we can show the world what we are truly capable of.