Showing posts with label Anika Chapin. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Anika Chapin. Show all posts

Tuesday, October 11, 2011

Race, Virtues & Vices.

Anika Chapin:  "So after that post, what did you think of Memphis?"


...  *dies.


Little did he know that one little question would launch him into a response that would take five days to properly compose.


Based on the parameters that I had set up for myself in last week's post (Arts & Entertainments), I can tell you, Anika, that the show was merely entertaining.  Broadway faithful, before you get up in arms, yes!!!  Yes, they sang well; yes, they danced brilliantly; yes, they did... other things.  What they didn't do was challenge me.  I couldn't remember any of the songs upon exiting the theater, but they were good when I was there.  I couldn't help but feel that they really feel that they missed an opportunity to really deal with racism in a way that wasn't kitchy and filled with only white people solving problems.  A lot of the more risky opportunities to shine a light on social injustice were glazed over or turned into a joke, some of which some people really ought to think about being uncomfortable at laughing at.  Just saying.


That's all!?  It took you five days to come around to composing that?  For real?


Well, yes and no.  I could go on giving my piffling revue of the show, or I can turn to the far more interesting conversation that the show did, in fact, spark.  I should say that there was a moment when we had stopped and considered that the show that we (Toni Ann, Zarif and myself) had been railing on, had indeed opened up a conversation about a greater problem, which forced us to reconsider it's status as art, but after some deliberation, we had decided to go with our first assessment.  No.


Many of the opinions I'm about to share may be a little touchy, so please feel free to set me straight if you disagree with anything I write hereafter.


I started in on the show and it's treatment of the subject of racism.  I really feel that the show was more brimming with sentimental hufflepuff and feel-good, "everybody gets along", ideology where we can all leave the theater feeling like we've accomplished something and that we no longer live in small-minded,  barbaric times where people drink at different water fountains based on the color of their skin.  I feel that anything or anyone that presents a message that we live in a post-racial society is immensely dangerous.  
You may be the type of person, that I would like to consider myself to be, where you don't have any particularly hostilities towards people of a different race or openly hate "the other" or use derogatory, demeaning, hurtful language.  That's a brilliant thing.  Truly.  But what I believe is important to remember is that there are still people out there who openly and actively believe that certain races are superior to others, or have warped perceptions, like "Korean people are good at math", or "Irish people are really bad at showering daily", or "All Pakistani people want to destroy your neighborhood."  The worst thing that can possibly happen is turning a blind eye to these things.  The problem isn't gone, it's only not "as bad" as it used to be according to our current social paradigm, but the problem isn't gone. 


There has been a convention, in the contemporary theater that, in my opinion, has been one of the biggest perpetrators of this idea that we live in a post-racial society: the idea of color-blind casting.  Allow me to explain, I'm not against the concept entirely.  Can a Romeo of one racial background romance a Juliet of another?  Absolutely!  Bring it on!  But if I see a production of All My Sons where Chris is white and Ann is Asian and that fact is not somehow addressed, I'm distracted because, to me, it defies the reality of the period (1940's America, it would have been a big deal).  I recognize that this is not, in fact a family as they are written.  I'm taken out of the show for a moment, as I have to consider this, and for me, it's a rather mammoth distraction.  To go back to 'Arts & Entertainments', it's an added layer that possibly distracts or confuses the audience from the thought and intent of the play.  
  


Can the show not be performed by a mixed cast?  Not at all!  As long as it makes some sort of sense for the benefit of the story;  let's do it.  But as Zarif and I agreed on, there's no believable way (I think we were talking about film) that we could ever pass as blood-related.  Well, maybe but it's a stretch.  I mean, if you've seen Zarif, you'd know immediately that he's way to attractive to be related to me.  FACT.  Now, can Zarif and I play brothers in a scene in class?  Of course; that's how we learn.  In the outside world, however, if there simply are no suitable actors to audition for a play with a clearly defined part in a text, is it ok to cast someone who doesn't outwardly suit the part?  If the theater must do the show, then yes, of course.  But to establish a hard and fast rule set where people who are perfectly suited to play a part have the possibility to be passed on for someone whiter or thinner or, I dunno... blonder is a shame, and a terrible one. 

I've seen fantastic black actors turned away from playing slaves in a slave drama in favor of a multicultural cast;  I've seen a white Tituba (she was 'darkened' which lent itself to a whole different set of uncomfortable feelings) in The Crucible when a incredibly capable actress could have taken the part.  I had a friend once tell me that the director that she auditioned for had told her that she was the best actress for the part, but she was to "big" to be cast. I know this isn't racial, but I'm questioning the thought of verisimilitude here; she was auditioning for Helen in Fat Pig... the titular fat pig of the show.  How does that make any sense?  Is it fair?  In these particular cases, I certainly feel that much of the gravity of the situation is taken away and that we disrespect and dishonor the our shared history and the mistakes and cheat ourselves of the opportunity to remind ourselves where we are, where we were, and where it is possible for us to go, when we do these things.  Do I enjoy seeing people enslaved?  Absolutely not, but in these cases, I believe that the color-blind casting was not color-blind, but very color-aware and a gruesome mistake.  I can totally wrap my head around non-traditional casting.  It may, perhaps, take an added level in suspension of disbelief, admittedly, but as long as the truth and the intent is not usurped, I think it's amazing.  The abuses that are made, waving the flag of homogeny, I take issue with.  We are not all the same, but we are all beautiful; and if we lie to ourselves, how can we be honest for the audience?


Suit the action to the word, the word to the action, with this
special observance, that you o'erstep not the modesty of nature:
for any thing so o'erdone is from the purpose of playing, whose
end, both at the first and now, was and is, to hold as 'twere the
mirror up to nature: to show virtue her feature, scorn her own
image, and the very age and body of the time his form and pressure.



Hamlet Act III, Scene 2 
-William Shakespeare


I realize that I may not be qualified at all to posit anything on this subject.  I might be getting a bit "big for my britches" to put these thoughts out into the world, but the fact that the bard agrees gives me a little comfort.  I'm not sure there is a perfect answer.  There are is a lot of grey area, but I want to examine it and see if there is a perfect answer.  The search for it is meaningful.  I do feel, deep in my soul, that if we ignore the problem, not only do things not improve for us as one human race, but we suffer the possibility of backsliding in to the same old mistakes.  Let's continue to embrace and delight in our differences.  If you made it this far, thank you for indulging me in my semi-theater-related rant.  Tomorrow I promise a return to form!




The discussion makes us stronger.


-R

Thursday, September 29, 2011

DeNoble. (Imagi-ninja)

Today was a stressful day.  For quite a while this afternoon, I was fretting having to come home and write about it because I really didn't want to relive it for you in front of my computer screen.  Much of what I was planning on revolved around the idea of teaching and terror as a tool to accomplish that goal...  I'll leave it at that.

I hadn't slept much last night.  This is an admission: I may have done a little too much blogging (re:journaling) last night.  There.  I said it.  After class today my sole purpose in life was to get home as fast humanly and MTA-ingly possible and enact Operation: Nap Time (which was a resounding success), but I found myself falling in to my usual pattern of engaging in a little verbal horseplay on the way to fetch things out of my locker.  I ended up in a conversation with Ms. Toni Ann DeNoble.  She's an actor in my class, and she's spectacular.

On a quick tangent:  I did the exercise in Larry's class that I had posted about earlier this week with Toni Ann and made a comment to her about having three fully-grown imaginations.  Seriously, the woman in imagining on planes of existence that only three-year-olds can fully harness, such is the power of her imagination.  It's a flabbergasting thing to see.  It's a little like being a ninja in ninja school and watching one of your fellow student-ninjas ninja-sword fight with her feet... and win.  It's ninja-impressive.

Back to the conversation: we had gotten involved in a conversation about the concept of age and what it means to people.  I found that she's of  like mind with me, where it becomes an annoyance to be constantly asked, "How old are you?"

I, for my part, have a bit of fun with this, and generally don't share right away with people my true count of sun-revolutions because, to me, it becomes an instant label to be confined in.  In my life, it's almost always one of the first questions asked when meeting some one.  It's like being sorted for future reference.  Ideas are formed and my personality gets assigned weights based on measures of other people, rather than just being allowed to have someone learn about who I am the old-fashioned way.  It's almost like:

Name: Jim
Age: 34
Political: Conservative
Religion: Mormon
Marital: Married
Children: Yes
Job: Dentist
Education: College Graduate; Dental school
... and so on and so forth

And, yes, these things come up; and, yes, they do define us, but there can be certain judgements that arise when certain other factors don't add up to a person's age.  There's an assessment based on someone else's standards, like when you hear that there's a woman who's thirty-six that's never been married/no kids and is a manager at a watch store in the mall in the town she grew up in.  You might think to yourself, "What's wrong with her?  She should be doing a lot better for herself at thirty-six."  I find that it's usually people in their fifties and people younger than their early twenties that tend (to me, at least) to assign so much significance to this number.  The 50+ like to remind me about how I'm not married (because that's a fail, right) and how "much more" they had accomplished by the time they were my age.  By people not old enough to drink in bars, I'm, "Old-as-shit, dude.", before I get assaulted with a litany of things that this person is going to do to be in a much better place when they reach my age.

This was essentially the nature of the conversation, and how this one little piece of information can so quickly define you in the eyes of others.  It's such an inconsequential thing.  It's nothing to be ashamed of, and yet it becomes the heavily-guarded secret by someone like myself, and as I discovered, Toni Ann, because you want people to know who you are and what you're about before offer them a little nugget of information that can help them make a snap decision.  It's like a way of respecting yourself... maybe.  Besides, isn't it much more exciting what you can learn about a person when you don't ask the expected questions?  Anyway, that's the philosophy behind it, and one that we both, I found, share.  I was so rapt in our chat, that I opted to take the train home (which adds an extra 20 minutes on to my commute to Astoria from the Upper West Side, just so I could squeeze in about ten extra minutes of brilliant conversation with her.  It was good.

I had discovered myself thinking while listening to Zarif today in Andrei's class that I really do enjoy the faces of the people who I get to share these next three years with.  I mean, they have some really excellent, look-worthy faces; and thanks to these great little accidental moments with Toni Ann, I get to appreciate what goes on behind the faces that I'm coming to adore so much.

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To continue to honor Anika's demand for "More Photos!", here's a picture of some faces back from collaboration weekend.  Tonia Ann, sadly, whom this post has been titled for is not present, but you can see for yourself some of the look-worthy faces that I mentioned earlier.  Aren't they a good-looking group!?!?  Also, this should please Sheyenne who constantly reminds me that I don't give her the attention she deserves.


"I hope that posterity will judge me kindly, not only as to the things which I have explained, but also to those which I have intentionally omitted so as to leave to others the pleasure of discovery."
- Rene Descartes 



Doo zee Fool!


-R

Wednesday, September 28, 2011

Winter is Coming.

The title of my post are the words of house Stark in A Song of Ice and Fire, which was my Summertime obsession.  I was just getting into the Dunk & Egg novellas when the semester started and I can feel them staring at me from my desk every time I enter my room.  The only words I have to express how much I want to sneak some time in to finish them is... WINTERFELL!!!

"Did you say, 'Winterfell'?"  -Gendry

"No.  I said, 'Go to hell."  -Arya

I told you I was obsessed...

But as the title of the post suggests, Winter is, in fact, coming.  Fall is so heavy upon us that I'm filled with the excitement of the promise of cooler weather and a little precipitation... if only for the excuse to wear hoodies.  Here in NYC the humidity prevents me from donning my favorite garment for a little less than half the year.  NorCal spoiled me with the ability to rock a hoodie anytime, anywhere.  Everyday I check Google weather and I get a little bit more excited.

What really interests me about the Winter is that when it snows here, it snows.  People tend to huddle together a bit more and hunker down with their favorite friends and coworkers to survive the sleet and cold.  As we were in Andrea's class today, I took a look around the wonderful faces that I get to daily share a circle with and realize that these are the people that I'm truly excited to hunker down with.  People keep saying, "The honeymoon is over.", but I feel that now that everyone is settling in to the groove.  There's a lot to learn still about each other and whether deep in the basement of Schapiro or in the lofty towers of Riverside Church we are going to be given a truly first-class chance to do it.  There's something really magical about the winters here in the city, and I'm excited to share it with my classmates.

"When the snows fall and the white winds blow, the lone wolf dies, but the pack survives."  -Eddard StarkA Game of Thrones.

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I have another blog cooking right now about Gods and hubris and some ideas formulated today on both subjects in Niky Wolcz's class, but I'm deciding to let it simmer for a bit longer and aim for the scheduler to upload it tomorrow morning (in an effort to catch better traffic to the page).  So this is it for now.  You can thank Kevin Johnston for admitting to me that my general post length is far too long.  He tells me he's happy with about a paragraph before he navigates away.

In other blog related news, I was talking the blog game with Anika Chapin, whose wonderfully charming blog, Bloggledygook, can be found by clicking the link, earlier this evening (posting, stats, format, etc.) and she said, "More pictures!"  So to honor her request, here is a picture of Sir Charles of Wumpus, one of my cats, who still resides in Sacramento, CA (Poor bugger).


Breathe in.  Breathe out.

-R