Art

I went to the Altische Museum on Friday. In the revolving exhibit, I got to see the bust of Nefertiti. It was a piece of art that I had always seen in books but never imagined seeing in person. The figure was exquisitely preserved and skillfully created. Nefertiti’s lips were twisted upwards only slightly, just barely hinting at a smile or a secret. Shanga might appreciate this, because my impression was “what a character”. The craftsman had created and defined his own version of Nefertiti’s character in paint and statue. We try to create and define versions of our characters with our own bodies. Nefertiti’s head is most definitely art; in that case, the performance of our characters is art, without question.

It was never a question, really, that art has many forms that include theater and visual art. Yet the complete realization that our compositions are a form of art is has now dawned upon me.

On one hand there was the Egyptian museum, and ancient things that have been preserved and can still be identified with humans. I saw something 40,000 years old that could have been made and used today. The ancient jewelry resembled things that I could find in the Turkish market. There were swastikas on ancient boxes in Mesopotamia. On the other hand, I have seen four live performances in Berlin so far. So while Nefertiti continues to half-smile at all her visitors, the performances will live on only in memory.

noBody was quite the spectacle. I didn't try to understand it at all, but I let it have whatever effect it might have. And this is what I mainly thought: it must take so much time and effort to choreograph and direct that piece. To time everything so accurately, especially because different things were happening at different times, must have taken patience and a very clear vision. Everything was intentional. The actors were not improvising; there was an intention in the speed of their jumping, in the motion of their hands, in their exact placement upon the stage. I liked how the shadows in the background were evenly spaced and leveled although the actors were scrunched up and thrown around every which way. Emotionally, I was pretty uncomfortable through the whole thing. The airplane noise was eating away at any happiness that was left, and the actors kept making agonizing motions. I was afforded no relief save the lady walking slowly around the stage - and yet even this was no comfort. The things that were "familiar", such as the bell costumes, made me even more uncomfortable because they were out of context. I wanted to run when the dancers started screaming, because it was just torture. Again, I wasn't trying to understand the meaning of anything: this was actually how I felt. This also was interesting: it was very easy to perceive the presence and absence of compassion throughout the piece. The dancers running in a group towards a fallen fellow, or a dancer carrying around someone like a bag. The latter made me cringe, and the inconsistency of their compassion made me cringe more.

Highlights of Fidelio were the music (hats off to Beethoven) and the set. The opera singers were really excellent in their command and range, and the vocal performances were strong. I liked the scheme of the set, which consisted of raised platform with square holes. It served as a road, but then transformed into a prison. I didn't understand that until there were walls on all side, and the square at the back of the stage displayed floating clouds. The acting was not enough for me to learn the story without German, however. It would have been helpful to speak German, or at least know the entire story, before viewing the opera.

The play, on the other hand, was more accessible to me (not able to understand German). It is true that we did go through the plot of Maria Magdalena before viewing it, but the play gave an insight into the story that the opera did not offer. The characters were distinct in their clothing, tone of voice, expressions, walking styles, interaction with others, and other features that do not require German-speaking ability to communicate. The small details, such as Klara taking her father's jacket and throwing Leonhard's jacket on the floor, stood out and crossed the language barrier. I could empathize with the tone of their voices, if not with their words. noBody made me feel a wave of emotions, but I could not empathize well because the dancers often acted un-human. Empathy with Fidelio's character existed, but was limited by an emphasis on the music. Maria Magdalena brought things into perspective so that I could really connect with that piece of art.

I was nervous about attending my last performance. It was classical music, Haydn, performed by the Konzerthaus Orchestra in Berlin. I was nervous because I haven't played violin for a while, after leading a violin section in GHS symphony orchestra. I thought I might never get over the competitive nature of violin playing; I always analyzed other concerts and fretted over bow strokes and details of the violin parts. So there I was, in an amazingly beautiful concert hall. They played four pieces, including a french horn conerto and a violin concerto. And I surprised myself: I loved it. I really loved it. I surrendered to it, and received it like I have been receiving live performance since the ballet in spring quarter. A simple combination of notes carried so much emotion during the violin solo; later, different instruments strived towards creating an atmosphere of...who knows what exact atmosphere? The people sitting in that hall could have interpreted the music in their own way. I experienced classical music in a different way, because I put away the expectation and just let it fall towards me. Is that not the task of the audience?

Andreas Paeslack, an artist we talked to last week, said that the making of art is not in the hands of the artist but in the hands of society. I agree, because art occurs when there is a specific interaction between creator and receiver. Paeslack said that we don't know what effect his art will have, but it was clear that his group was interested in provoking people for a reaction. Their art was interactive, as was that we saw with the graffiti artist (cleaning public windshields, for instance). Graffiti in turn is art because it has an effect on the people and surroundings. Claire Waffel's notes that she left around the city is art because she wanted to see what effect it had on the audience, ie whether or not they would come to the designated location. Similarly, she was interested in our reaction to her videos. Claire, however, said that she was not interested in the audience, but created art for herself. This seemed contradictory. The Paeslack group, however, knew that they sought a response with their art.

One of them brought up Stephen Jay Gould, and I was really surprised. Gould came up in computer science, linguistics, psychology: basically anything related to the brain. "These artists read Gould, they must be intelligent, and they choose to do art with their life" was the immediate childish thought that ran through my head. But then, it all came together, really. Gould's Mismeasure of Man mentions the human tendency "to convert abstract concepts into entities" - and this is exactly what art does. The artist translates abstract concepts (like emotion or instinct) into compositions or other forms, which must be converted back into an abstract concept by the audience.
(Whew that was long, hopefully I can edit soon but I had to get it out)

P.S. It was thus really interesting that we visited the neurobiologist that just published in Nature Neuroscience. The conversation between Tobi and the Carlo was separated by a huge range: on one side the possibility/power of technology, on the other side the number of teslas that power modern mris.