Photos

"I call "photographic referent" not the optionally real thing to which an image or a sign refers but the necessarily real thing which has been placed before the lens, without which there would be no photograph. Painting can feign reality without having seen it. Discourse combines signs which have referents, of course, but these referents can be and are most often "chimeras." Contrary to these imitations, in Photography I can never deny that the thing has been there. There is a superimposition here: of reality and of the past. And since this constraint exists only for Photography, we must consider it, by reduction, as the very essence, the noeme of Photography. What I intentionalize in a photograph (we are not yet speaking of film) is neither Art nor Communication, it is Reference, which is the founding order ot Photography. " - Roland Barthes, Camera Lucida

I wonder what Barthes would have thought of our super mediated society. There is perhaps no more ubiquitous form of communication, his Reference, than pictures, and to a large extant photography.

"it has been here, and yet immediately separated; it has been absolutely, irrefutably present, and yet already deferred"

The it in photography is not real in our current sense of thinking. We can't reach out towards the newspaper and touch the fighters in Iraq, our fingers coming back bloodied and sandy. Yet photography is often, sometimes unconciously, perceived as the grounding of a news story. A story's credability can be seriously affected by the lack of a photo, or the presence of an inferior one.

If one is to look at photos through a Barthian lens, the importance of photography then becomes multiplied tenfold. The photo as a point of reference, a represenatation of History. We were not there, History is where we are not, but the photo can be/is a direct link to the reality under discussion. There has to have been something there for the photograph to exist.

Photoshop aside, as Barthes was discussing pure, real photography, Photos are not given serious enough consideration anymore. Webcams and live video streams via overheated laptops and overworked cameramen are the norm. But Photography is still here, perhaps because reality needs Reference to maintain its identity.

16 pounds of fur covered Christmas cheer

Dancing my little heart out

Tonight I took a master jazz/contemporary/hip-hop class by Travis and Ivan, best known for being finalists on the show So You Think You Can Dance.

My sis got herself great pics with both of the guys

Here's Travis

And Ivan

The class itself was great - Travis' intricate choreography infused with Ivan's bold street style was an absolute blast to learn. The dance was not only physically demanding, but there was no room for zoning out at all. The music was a tricky mix of cowbell (no joke), bass, guitar, and percussive beats, and we were supposed to accent all of the above. The bar was also set high from watching Travis and Ivan perform the choreography flawlessly, with enough style to light up Times Square.

If I were to find any negative thoughts about the class, they would all have to do with the other students. With over 90 students in the one studio, space was cramped. That's all well and fine - pros in LA and New York face similar class packouts all the time. It was the unprofessional attitude of the majority of the other students that made it hard to completely enjoy the class.

Because Ivan and Travis were such huge draws, students came from all over the Puget Sound. Bellevue, Issaquah, Redmond, Seattle, Everett, etc... One would think that young pre-professionals would be grateful, thankful for the chance to take class with such amazing teachers. One would think that these students would be respectful of others in the crowded classroom. One would at least think that these students would not have to be told sixteen or seventeen (no exagerration) times (nicely) to quit talking.

One would think.

But one would have thought wrong.

People here in the Northwest complain about our rather limited dance scene, especially when it comes to more mainstream offerings such as jazz and hip-hop. It seems extremely counterintuitive to present one's self as someone who is a. disrespectful of basic class etiquette, and b. someone that must be deaf, as that's the only possible explanation for not listening to a guest teacher pleading for quiet.

Not to mention that many of these girls were wearing the team jackets of their home studios. I fail to see how causing the guest teachers to become visibly agitated b/c of the ceaseless chatter is good PR for one's dance school. And the dance world is very, very, very small.

I found myself writing off much of the behavior to the students' ages, their displayed socioeconomic class, their hair color... the reasons becoming even more vapid then their behavior as the class journeyed on, until I finally hit on the realization that ultimately, it is the dance school's responsibility, every dance school's responsibility to train their students not just in technique, but in how to present one's self responsibly and respectfully. Sadly, it appears that this is not happening nearly enough.

I hope that if Travis and Ivan weren't completely scared away and do come back to Seattle, that there will have been a paradigm shift, a moving of perspective, that makes the students shut up and dance, showing respect for two amazing artists and dancers.

En L'air

Home from a two-day run of En L'air, a benefit show for Ashley House.
Good show all around, and great energy from the audience.
Broadway Performance Hall is also always fun. Capitol Hill has so much artistic energy floating around - inspiration strikes just walking to the theatre.
As I was just in one piece, I had plenty of time to people watch and observe what I am usually in the thick of during more hectic shows.
1. People like being insular. While it is true that one gets to know the people in their own dance the best, it is still striking that everyone (myself included) tends to stay within invisible boundaries, separating 'us' from 'them'.
2. If one violates the above boundaries and *gasp* tries to talk or sit next to someone outside of their dance, he or she is met with resistance. No rudeness or yelling, but a definite coldness. "You aren't in my piece, why are you talking to me?" is the subtext.
3. The poor people that are in more than one piece spend their backstage time frantically running back and forth between dressing room locations, trying to insure they haven't ignored anyone important at any and all check points.
4. Everyone leaves as soon as humanly possible once the show is done. The dressing room was empty about two minutes after the curtains closed.

I'm sure there is some deep, metaphorical comparison to be drawn between backstage life and real life - the need for structure, resistance to change, reluctance to step out of one's interpersonal safety zone, but I'm too much in that weirdtiredheadfloatylightsdizzyreallytiredmode right now to flesh it out any further.

Snow!

I can't remember the last time we had snow around Thanksgiving. We got a good 2-3 inches too. Last I heard Lake Stevens got 6 and was expecting 3 more!

I don't know who won...

Angela looks completely blissed out

This year

I have much to be thankful for. This is a bit belated, but nonetheless true.

Mom
Angela
Nathan
my faith
my students
my art
my future in grad school (hopefully)
the fact that I now look at the light side of things instead of always the dark
my teachers
Jessica
yams and peaches
the fact that in spite of everything wrong with this country and the messed up people in it, I have the freedom to pursue my religion, my dream of working in academia, my artistic endeavors, without major reprisal

I have let go of a lot of the bad this year and embraced a lot of the good.

I am very thankful for that.

What can we say?

The fight about whether or not Americans are spoiled could go back and forth all day, with much vacillation b/n different ideas about wealth, comfort, luxury, cultural context, etc...

One thing is for certain though. We have never experienced this level of atrocity. I hope this level of cruelty and psychopathic action never comes to the U.S. But another part of me wonders how any of us here, in our relatively sheltered communities, can ever understand the full scope of horror these women have faced. Can we? The cultural differences, the language barriers, the different societal hierarchies; how can we fight through these and reach out to our fellow human beings?

Why aren't we? Why are these horrible practices just now starting to hit mainstream sources like Newsweek? And why is the gritty truth only revealed in a web exclusive? Are the people who choose paper over pixels somehow unable to handle the verity of such a situation?

What is it in human nature that makes us close our eyes, stop our ears, hold our mouths shut?

I will never give up my books.

With America's literacy rates plunging down the tubes, I can see how an article like this, http://msnbc.msn.com/id/14823087/?GT1=8717 , could be conceived, and perhaps even be carried to fruition on the msnbc homepage. However, my strict emotional reaction to the above, was "WHAAAAAAAAA?"

Seriously though, this feels very much like a GRE writing topic that gets bandied about a lot.
"Instead of requiring students to take courses in a variety of disciplines—that is, courses ranging from the arts and the humanities to the physical and biological sciences—colleges and universities should allow students to enroll only in those courses that will help prepare them for jobs in their chosen fields. Such concentration is necessary in today's increasingly work-oriented society"

Baby out with the bathwater anyone? Yes, finding a vocation is important. And yes, there might be a surplus of jobs in today's technologically mediated society that do not require expository skills. But to say that reading should be treated as a luxury, something extra, is too extreme of a view.

From the article - "But just as every citizen is not forcibly trained to enjoy classical music, neither should they be coerced into believing that reading is necessarily pleasurable. For the majority of students, reading and writing are difficult enterprises with limited payoffs in the modern world."

This was a telling passage for me. Here, reading is equated with music, a form of art. Art is severely underfunded in our educational system. Someone arguing against funding arts programs could merely switch out "reading and writing" in the 2nd sentence with painting, modern dance, ballroom, etc... Music/Dance/Visual Art programs are receiving less and less money every year. Are literary classes going to head down this route as well? I sincerely and fervently hope not.

We need the arts, and that includes reading and writing of all sorts. People joke about going to college b/c they don't know what they're going to do with their lives. I have so many friends who were in that boat, until they read something amazing in college that opened up new intellectual vistas. Yours truly now wishes to be an English professor, something that wouldn't have even crossed my mind before the boatloads of reading in college.

I could see one arguing that reading could still be considered a luxury, something for intelligensia/academics. But that standpoint completely disregards the enriching effect that reading has. So if reading is a luxury, it should be one that we strive for continuously.

Chaucer

When in April the sweet showers fall
And pierce the drought of March to the root, and all
The veins are bathed in liquor of such power
As brings about the engendering of the flower
When also Zephyrus with his sweet breath
Exhales an air in every grove and heath
Upon the tender shoots, and the young sun
His half-course in the sign of the Ram has run,
And the small fowl are making melody
That sleep away the night with open eye
(So nature pricks them and their heart engages)
Then people long to go on pilgrimages
And palmers long to seek the stranger strands
Of far-off saints, hallowed in sundry lands,
And specially, from every shire's end
In England, down to Canterbury they wend

Chaucer really was a timeless author. When rereading The Canterbury Tales, it's amazing how much of his discerning witticisms hide a deeper moral truth that is still relevant today. It's also a bit sad that he is still so relevant, as that means human foibles haven't really changed since the 1300s.

Mr. Blunt, 06

I'm not quite sure what or how exactly I feel about the James Blunt concert that occurred roughly four hours ago. This man is so darn talented, and he knows how to go for the jugular with heart-wrenching genuineness, but that makes it all the more disappointing when he falls back into the jaws of media legerdemain.

But let's start at the beginning. Starsailor was an absolutely fabulous opening act. They found an irrepressible source of energy that actually surpasses the versions on their album "On the Outside". James Walsh's burnt sugar voice belted out in a manner that threatened to crack a few ribs in his skinny frame, nicely accented by the band's heavily rhythmic sound. He was the only one of the band that said anything, and he kept the adlib to a minimum, letting the powerful music speak for itself. The band as a whole was lacking a bit of charisma, but given that they had just finished an earlier show at the Crocodile Cafe, they have a valid excuse for being a bit bushed. Because of the lack of chit chat, the songs often blurred together. At one point I realized that they had changed songs a few minutes before, and I hadn't noticed. This is a band that never met a 4/4 tempo they didn't like, but Walsh's voice had enough grit and flavor to keep the audience interested. It will be curious to see if this exposure gives them the push they need to become more recognized in the mainstream. Their single "In the Crossfire" has gotten some playtime, but this is a band that definitely deserves more recognition.

After a very, very long soundcheck, during which several people drifted in late (and the place still wasn't full?), James Blunt and his band took the stage. In true rock star style, Blunt ran on with the typical wide-eyed-on-caffiene-and-something-else-possibly expression and proceeded to groove on the first of many new songs. He's kept the blues tinged rhythms that make Bedlam more than the sum of his first single, but lyrically, it seems he's headed into a jaded area of his creative mind with lines like "Scratch that mild skin/Wasting time like it just doesn't matter very much/So we're happy for the company."

In spite of that cynical start, Blunt jetted through all of the songs from "Back to Bedlam" plus a few new audience pleasers, such as a surprisingly slick cover of Supertramp's "Breakfast in America." Other unreleased singles included "Annie," an exceedingly dry commentary on fame and fortune, or the lack of it, "I can't hear the music," and "1973," where I swear he was channeling a younger Elton John. "I Really Want You" was a tale of love and loss that somehow avoided melodrama in spite of lyrics that look incredibly trite in text - "Wasted time on the silver shores of paradise/Can I come in from the cold?/Killed a man in a faraway land."

There were also some beautiful moments in the Bedlam set. "Tears and Rain" was a standout. Mr. Blunt, front and center stage in a lone spotlight, guitar loosely slung around his waist with his hand lightly gripping the neck, singing his heart out as the piano riffled mellifluously.

So, musically the night was spot on. Even Blunt's obvious voice fatigue lent itself to an organic feel as the night grew long. But it is precisely that organicness, that inexplictly stated but nonetheless present artistic morality, that resulted in the concert feeling uneven. Known for his former military career in Kosovo and strong political/moral stances (the trailer for An Inconvenient Truth was played right before he started), Blunt has built himself an image as the sensitive guy next door that not only cares about world issues and can really sing but can also probably kill you with his ring finger. The concert really hit home tonight how much of that is image, showmanship, and very good PR.
The best example of this was when he played his pathos-packed "No Bravery," which no matter how you slice it, is unsympathetic towards the killing of civilians for the sake of war, any war. He gave a little disclaimer before he started about how short our collective memories really are, and that when he went back to Kosovo a few months ago, nothing had really improved since this issue was the media's favorite poster child. Then as he played the song, appearing to mean every word and every note, personal footage of the carnage and orphans was projected on the backdrop. There was utter quiet, even during the soft instrumental parts. For a few brief moments, there were no "Marry me James" yells or other foolish catcalls. The audience was absorbed in his haunting experience with human cruelty and misery, and it was a powerful absorbtion.
Yet, mere moments after finishing, Blunt grabbed his guitar and started a peppy instrumental that would quickly segue into "By the Sea." The too quick transition reminded me of the "Now This" phenomenon in news broadcasts - Oh look at the refugees in Darfur, how depressing. Now this commercial for Clorox!
I understand that social commentary doesn't sell the boatloads of tickets that being a cute Brit with decent teeth does, but that transition undermined everything he was trying to say about the shortness of our memory. It would have been great, nay, mind-blowing, if instead of ending the concert with the sappy "You're Beautiful," he had taken the road never traveled and ended by giving the audience a hard dose of reality to think about on the way home.

Disclaimer

Although nothing will ever truly replace the tactile pleasures of pen and paper, I have decided to step outside of my usual journalistic habits with the creation of this blog. This will contain mostly reviews, but as my life often becomes too busy to prevent me from seeing anything worth reviewing, there might be a few thoughts on random dead/alive poets, authors, actors/actresses, activists, artists, amazing people, and their subsequent works.

Disclaimer start: I do not claim to be unbiased, although my subconcious often pretends to be on paper or pixel screen. /end disclaimer.