Concert and the Israel Film Festival

A month ago I went down to the Museum of Jewish Heritage at Battery Park. They were hosting a special concert series called "Songs of Peace" in honor of Daniel Pearl. I signed up with Rachel Foster to see Idan Raichel and friends in an acoustic performance, which Shira (my sister) ended up going to with her own friend. It was an intimate setting, and longtime fan that I am, I was sitting in row 12, while Shira (who now really likes Idan but at the time had never heard of him) was front row, next to his piano, catching his sweat. Damn.

Idan's music is called the "Idan Raichel Project" because it's an ongoing collaboration and mixing of Israeli and Ethiopian music. For those not in the know: Ethiopian Jews began immigrating enmasse to Israel with the help of Israeli airlifts during the 90s, a time of famine in the region. Jews have been in Ethiopia for around 2,500 years, and so their form of Judaism differs from the Ashkenazi and Sephardic traditions (those two groups have not been as isolated from each other for as long). So there is currently a significant Ethiopian population in Israel, but they face racism and marginalization. I found one Ethiopian restaurant in Jerusalem, which I frequented often. So when Idan Raichel's Project came out in 2002, it sent shock waves through Israeli society and helped bring Ethiopian culture into mainstream Israeli life.

Back to the concert. It was really wonderful, not only because the music was beautiful but because of the amazing performances by the numerous people who joined Idan onstage. There was a Brooklyn trumpeter, who brought the sounds of foggy NY streets early in the morning to the music. Itamar Doari was the percussion master, with at least 7 drums and 4 different cowbell/maraka contraptions on his legs. There were also three women who each took turns singing solos and in harmony; Ethiopian-Israeli Cabra Casay, Colombian Marta Gomez, and Somi who was from Rwanda via Sudan. Each woman had such different musical qualities and styles. Cabra was definitely the hottest, and her style was a little rougher, more familiar from Israel. Marta was the most expressive and really used her arms throughout the experience. Somi did the craziest, most incredible things with her voice, throwing it really high in short bursts and going low. (Pictured: Idan at Piano, Cabra, Somi and Marta singing, and Itamar on drums)

So I was excited to see that there was a film about the Project during the 22nd Israel Film Festival here in NY. The film is a documentary called "Black on White" and follows Idan's entourage on their first trip to perform in Ethiopia. For a short film, only about 1 hour long, it covered a lot of ground. They discussed racism against Ethiopians in Israel, about immigrating and either choosing to take a Hebrew name or not, and the discord about their dream of the Promised Land and what they got. Once they got to Ethiopia it was interesting to see how Avi, the male singer, was able to readily reconnect with his family (he left at age 8), whereas Cabra (who left at age 1 and doesn't speak Amharic) felt that she wasn't Ethiopian, but Israeli. Most interesting to me personally was their sense of belonging and not belonging, of feeling torn between their two homes, which I feel very much defines my own relationship with Israel. It was also crazy to hear their impressions of Ethiopia, a decidedly less developed country than Israel, and realize that what they saw as a "simple life" was how I often thought of Israel as well.

I also went to see "Sal of the Earth" with Mike, my brother-in-law. I went primarily because Lior Ashkenazi is one of the stars, and I absolutely loved him in "Walk on Water." Loved him. This film follows 4 army buddies, each a bit bored with his life or in a rut, who decide to rob a gangster. While the character development was a bit weak, I loved the Israeliness of it all. They were risking their lives for 4 MILLION SHEKELS (dr. evil finger to lips). That's about $1 million, which is hardly worth risking your life for, right? Especially divided by 4. Especially when everyone in Israel is in debt anyway. Ashkenazi was good as the Columbo-like detective (minus the glass eye and much cuter).

Museum Class: The Metropolitan

On October 27th, my museum course had our first class at the Met. We had been discussing at TC how to incorporate information into our facilitation of pieces of art. That is, while discussing with viewers learning how to dismiss myths and provide facts about the art. We started off with an impressionist painting, Pierre Bonnard's "Terrace at Vermont." Our discussion was really interesting, mostly because everyone brought such different experiences and impressions to their interpretation of the painting. Whereas I always try to make narratives out of the paintings we view, other students often focus on the composition, the color, or are able to relate the pieces to other artists' works. I found something a little odd in the painting; amongst all the lush gardens, vines and trees of the painting, there is a little plotted plant in the right middle-ground. Strange. Also, what is that woman doing on the far right?

From there we went to the African art galleries. This area is set up very differently than the Western art rooms; instead of each piece getting it's own area many are grouped together in glass cases and they are scattered around the room. We stopped in front of a "Power Figure" from the Congo, but at the time we did not know that. Just as we did with the Western art, we were asked to observe the object and give our immediate thoughts. It can't be seen from this picture, but the back of the piece is studded with nails, and one girl immediately said it reminded her of Voodoo, which I found annoying because Voodoo itself is full of racist myths. Our teacher gave us information as our discussion developed, and we then discussed how non-Western art comes to be in a museum and how it is displayed.

The next piece was a European painting. I was amazed to sit in front of this painting (I couldn't find the actual one, but this painting is strikingly similar) and feel just as I had in front of the African piece. I could see that there were important symbols, I just didn't know how to interpret them. We were asked to write what we knew about the painting, and then questions we had. I wrote that there was a holy woman and an angel. I assumed the woman was a martyr. Once our discussion began it seems everyone else in the class (most of whom have art history backgrounds) knew immediately that it was "The Annunciation." I asked how could they tell which one, because weren't there two, Mary and Martha? I was told it was obvious, Mary always wears red and blue. Like cartoon characters, she has her one outfit. In delving into the painting they pointed out more clues, like the white lily that symbolizes Mary's chastity.

I couldn't help but feel that this was a perfect example of what I don't like about this type of Christian art; it's completely out of context. Mary is blond, fair skinned, and a rich woman living in a sumptuous castle. The angel who comes to her is already decked out with crosses, and is likewise Northern European looking. The scene outside her window (not present in this painting) was a green garden I don't believe has ever existed in Israel. She is even reading a book written in a Romantic language (reads left to right) that might even be the scriptures. And this is all before Jesus is even born, he's just been conceived. Art like this clearly de-Judaizes Christianity. In taking it out of context, its roots are ripped out and it further alienates Jews. Comments by my classmates attest to this; well in this area at the time there were only Christians. There has never been any place that's been "all Christian," especially since the painting was done in the 1500s, a time when Jews were expelled from Spain and flowing into Northern Europe and Muslims were living all over Europe as well.

Our next class at the Met was on the 3rd. After revisiting the Bonnard, Olga (our professor) handed us a poem by Billy Collins called "Introduction to Poetry." Collins is a well known very funny and biting educator. Here's the first few stanza's:

I ask them to take a poem
and hold it up to the light
like a color slide

or press an ear against its hive.

With that in mind, we began at Jackson Pollock's "Autumn Rhythm." I think a problem I have with Pollock is that I already have a sense in my head of what his work looks like, so it's somewhat difficult to look at anything of his with fresh eyes. Olga had us look at the painting from a number of positions, both close and far from the painting. Then we took out little viewfinders (squares cut in paper) and looked for specific areas we found interesting. From there, we each chose a line, and with one eye closed we followed that line with our fingers, trying to define where it began and ended. We then drew the line on pieces of paper.

Then Olga asked us what noise our individual lines would make. On the count of three, we all made our noises, quite a cacophony in the middle of the Met with more traditional student groups standing in awe. Olga then asked how our lines would move. We each stood in the room, and again on the count of three began our movements. Mine was thick, dragging steps, while others were fast or bursting. The museum guards were unamused.

Our next stop was at Roberto Matta's "Being With." Without discussing the painting, we were each asked to write the first 5 words that came to our minds. We then had to choose just one word from those 5 and write it on the back of our cards. We were then put into groups, and together had to create a poem about the painting. Our poem:

Nightmare Metropolis

Industrialization
Torture civilization

Torture factory

Factory

Pain

Deep, huh? The other group's was more gruesome, but also more specific to the painting.

Our last exercise was to choose a painting in the room we were in (I'm not sure which it was), and using construction paper, recreate the piece of art. I chose Arthur Dove's "Portrait of Ralph Dusenberry." I was mostly drawn to it because it looked pretty simple, many of my classmates were recreating Georgia O'Keefe's, and I doubt my artistic skills. It was great to be sitting on the floor, tearing paper, as teenagers were shepherded across the room by boring docents. Quite a few adults stopped to ask what was going on. Once we had all created our pieces, we went around in small groups to look at our classmate's art. Too much fun.

I stayed after with a few classmates, Barbara and Natalie, to checkout a few of the Met's exhibits. We saw Gates of Paradise featuring the famous Ghiberti doors from Florence, which I had seen a few years ago on my trip there. We also saw Damien Hirst's shark, known also as "The Physical Impossibility of Death in the Mind of Someone Living." It is a dead shark suspended in a glass tank filled with formaldehyde. I have to say, I think Hirst achieved his aim. It was impossible for me to believe that the shark had eve been alive, the more I looked at it the faker it seemed. Adding to the bizarreness, children LOVED it. Kids were streaming into the room, each entering with a perfect O of a mouth and letting out a little gasp when they saw the shark. The kids pressed up against the glass, no fear, as though they were at the aquarium. Due to the thick glass and chemicals, if you moved around it did look like the shark was swimming.