"If it Bleeds" by Isabelle Pauwels Review

               If it Bleeds, a satire by Isabelle Pauwels is a commentary on the current state of the MMA world and subsequent industry that it has become. While fighting has always been a spectator sport, the UFC, at least in founding stood far apart from contemporaries such as wrestling and boxing by way of higher skill requirements and less spectacle, a true pure modern gladiator fight. Not every part of the movie made complete sense to me, as there were many references I did not notice, there were plenty of things I did understand and find humorous. One such example was the Connor McGregor impersonation serving as a foil for one of the examples of overblown ego in the current UFC and how it has become a custom in the UFC for people to have massive personalities. While people love to watch fights, unfortunately, a clash of personas is able to draw in more hype around an event, which is able to subsequently earn more revenue. In other cases, the fighters simply act as buffoons in order continue their careers. This was seen in the case of the “fighter” who was being interrogated by the commission. To all his questions, all he said was “fifth amendment,” making an infamous spectacle out of the process. I later went back and found the actual questioning and discovered that Pauwels essentially did not change a single part of the dialogue, and by placing it into the setting of the movie, was able to highlight just how ridiculous it was.

               As for the actual way the movie was put together, the jump cuts to me seemed to be extremely jarring, which was possibly the point. And the overlaid deep voicing that was used frequently made me think that the movie was trying to be serious in its message. This caused me to put up a slight mental guard while watching it, as no matter what, MMA is an industry just like anything else, and money must be made. I did not realize the lighthearted nature of the film until the credits, where the voice of Pauwels came through directly. Along with this, I did not understand the opening imagery of the pile of bricks that was shown. If I’m being honest, a lot of my dislike of the film came from the abstract elements or references I was unable to understand, and the references that I did know were enjoyable. So a good bit of the reason I did not enjoy the film as much as I could have lies with me. However, I also feel that the abstract nature of the film plays to its benefit as the subtle jokes and word play allowed me to think about them and the nature of the movie, increasing the amount of interaction and investment I had in the film. It kept me engaged and intrigued even though I did not outright enjoy the film. The fact that Pauwels refused to hold our hands throughout the movie by spoon-feeding us obvious punch lines and set ups is a credit to her mastery in film. If it Bleeds was a spectacularly brainy take on a brawny subject matter that allowed us to view MMA through a lens other than ESPN and pay-per-view specials.

If It Bleeds Review

“If It Bleeds” Review      

Phoebe Brackett

              “If It Bleeds” is likely a reference to the phrase, “If it bleeds, it leads” [1]. This phrase refers to the idea that “if a story involves a brutal death or injury of some kind (or the likelihood of it), it is likely to get higher ratings” [1]. Such a concept could be extended to other types of negative news, such as scandals and gossip. In this way, the aforementioned film encompasses both literal bleeding (that which occurs in the MMA fight itself) and figurative bleeding (that which is caused by scandal). The peanut gallery’s habit of gnawing away at a celebrity’s image is, indeed, a form of bloodlust. After all, the public loves the brutality and grit of a bloody fight—yet a bleeding reputation is so much sweeter. 

              Two instances of public scandal in the film are drug use and defeat. For instance, the film shows people on their phones, reacting to the news that one of the fighters was caught using drugs. One of them calls him a bad guy; they seem to be holding back a laugh. Further, a man the fighter that everyone hates him, and urges the people on their phones to take part in the hatred. In a later scene, the fighter apologizes. Yet nearby commenters mock him and tell him that he sounds fake. This mockery sharply contrasts with the fighter’s apparent emotional pain. It is almost surreal to witness the juxtaposition between one person’s turmoil and the spectators who see that turmoil as an entertaining joke. Another fighter, who has the reputation of being ‘tough,’ loses a fight. This begs the question: which is worse for the fighter, the defeat itself or the resulting humiliation? In response to her defeat, a woman tells the fighter to explain herself and apologize. She complies, but begins to cry. It is as if her ‘tough’ image is crumbling. It is her downfall—a downfall which the spectators gobble up ravenously. Nearby spectators (including the woman) watch her and make snide comments, seemingly amused. Once again, there is a contrast between the fighter and the spectators. If those same people saw someone crying in real life, they would likely comfort them. However, the crying fighter is in the public eye. Thus, she is not seen as a person ‘in real life;’ all of the fighters in this film are treated as pieces of media which emit ‘entertainment.’ In this way, the audience is perhaps urged to reflect on their own opinions of those in the public eye.

              The film itself feels unreal, as if it takes place in nightmarish funhouse. The shots seem fast and blunt. This is fitting, as it matches up with the seemingly shallow, one-dimensional judgements carried out by the public and the media. Further, the ‘trippy,’ awkward dialogue alludes to a duplicitous reality. For example, a woman removes her wig and instructs the fighters to cry and throw shoes—thus alluding to the phrase “if it bleeds, it leads.” Ultimately, “If It Bleeds” is a film which uses simple (yet clownish) props and haunting personalities to illustrate the theatrical performance created by MMA fighting. 

Sources:

1. https://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/IfItBleedsItLeads

Sagittarius A, An Introspection of a Star’s Lifespan

The scene is set as the audience pours into the EMPAC Concert Hall on a Friday night. Strips of cloth hang from the ceiling and converge in the center of the stage as the lights begin to dim. From the cloth pile emerges a woman named Ana (Jennifer Payan) who begins to dance as the narrator begins to recount the story of the goddess Sagittarius A. The story follows that Sagittarius A was consumed by a wolf who was jealous of her power and that pieces of her body collected together and formed our galaxy. The on stage performance is interrupted by a lecturer, Dr. Amalia (Catherine Correa), entering from the back of the hall to give us a presentation about the lifespan and death of a star and the resulting birth of a galaxy. There are many parallels between the description of a star, the story of Sagittarius A and Ana and the feminist undertones are clear. Close up shots of Ana’s body and an instance of Ana being catcalled during the film drive home the message that the star is a woman and her death is caused by her objectification.

The techniques “Sagittarius A.” uses to communicate the story are avant garde in nature. Certain instances of the performance included live video projected on the front screen of events occurring behind us. Throughout the performance, our (the audience) focus is brought to different areas of the concert hall: the ceiling showing a projection of Ana’s hair as it whips back and forth emulating a black hole, the front stage as we observe Ana dance and Dr. Amalia inform, and the back of the room as we watch Ana dart through the seats of the upper row. The entire concert hall is the stage and medium of this performance and adds to the overall immersive aspect of this multimedia experience. Characters interact with the audience and in one instance, we are called upon to turn on our flashlights to simulate the creation of the galaxy, allowing for us as viewers to become part of the act itself. The performance incorporates strobe lights and harnesses connected to sheets of cloth to emphasize the majesty and power of the character, Sagittarius A, as she runs to the front of the stage causing the cloth to blow forward as if pushed by a giant gust of wind. The music varies as it switches from a resounding otherworldly sound composed of instruments like the piano, violin, and saxophone to a folk like tune with acoustic guitar and vocals during lighter moments to the grungy riffs of an electric guitar present in the “wolf” scenes. I was personally shocked when I realized that there was a live band playing throughout the performance and even during the pre-recorded video.

Overall, I thoroughly enjoyed “Sagittarius A.” to the point where I can say it is my favorite EMPAC experience to date. I loved the risks that it took and how immersive it was, a sensory overload where I was stimulated in the visual (imagery and actions displaced all around the room), auditory (the intensity of the violin and saxophone which continuously drew me in), and to a degree touch (feeling the rush of cool air from the billowing sheets as Sagittarius A moved) realms of the senses. My only issue with “Sagittarius A.” is that I think it could have been even more immersive. During the production, I struggled to locate where the next part of the performance would occur and found myself craning my head in all different directions to view what was going on. A possible solution for this is to allow the audience to move around (especially during the parts that incorporated the upper level seats in the back) as opposed to being restricted to their seats as events occur around them. There could also be some visual or auditory cues to help the viewer find the right area to look at. It would also be interesting to incorporate other senses like smell (maybe the scent of pine or wood for the video scenes in the forest) into the performance to bring the audience deeper into the experience.

Review: Lost Highway Suite by Olga Neuwirth

Lost Highway Suite by Olga Neuwirth is a composition for a large ensemble of musicians, six soloists and live electronics, which is based on the psycho-noir David Lynch film.

When I Walked into the concert room, there are some instruments that are related to the live electronics already placed on the stage, and I could not recognize most of them. “That’s gonna be a strange concert”, that is my first impression for the concert. And then, musicians with guitar, saxophone, clarinet, trombone, accordion, keyboards and of course the violin family. I was surprised that there are so many speakers on the stage and around the concert room. When the concert just begins, the sound effects really impress me, which I never felt in any other concerts. As a concert with so many different musical materials, great sound effects are really important since there are so many instruments that will be played at the same time. Letting audiences hear all the sounds and enjoying them, I think one of the most important factors that this concert would be tremendous is ascribed to the speakers in the EMPAC, which really impresses me with the outstanding sound effects.

“ What is the concert talking about?”, that is my second thoughts while listening to the concert. Since the melodies and phrases are not like classical musical concert, instead, it tells a story to us. I did not see the film before, so at the beginning of the concert, I could not get the “resonance” while listening to concert. The story definitely has several parts, since the style of the music changed over and over again, which reflected the meaning and emotion had changed.

I was impressed by the skills that these musicians got. I played the violin for almost ten years, and I know how hard it is to control it to play a prolonged sound with smooth and steady sound. At the same time, one of the musician switched between cello and electric guitar. Though there are some similarities between those two musical instruments, playing both of them during one concert is really hard, since the musician needs to switch the “playing style” while changing the musical instrument. “All the concerts would have some turnovers”, that is what I think about the concerts. However, for this concert, I did not hear any discords during the whole concert, which means there is no big error (maybe a few small errors that I did not recognize, since I am not familiar with this concert). In a word, these musicians are really skilled and experienced and I think that is the most important factor for a good concert. At the end of the performance, the keyboardist yelled a few times, and it is the first time that I hear human voices in a concert and I think that is really innovative and stunning.

Finally, I think the whole performance is really impressive and outstanding, though I did not know the stories that are inside the music. The techniques of electric musical instruments are fancy and the skills of all the musicians are fascinating. I think this kind of innovative concert is really meaningful for me since I could recognize new techniques of music and new thoughts and ideas about how to make music.

The Jazz of Physics

When Stephon Alexander opened up his talk with a quotation from Douglas Hofstadter, he accurately set the tone for the discussion. "Analogy is the core of cognition" was a fitting start for a lecture that focused its attention on finding coincidental parallels between cosmology, quantum mechanics, and improvisational jazz music as a way to help put very abstract and complicated theories into a more digestible form. One of the easiest methods of understanding the unfamiliar is to put it in terms of the familiar. In discussing improvisation, Alexander referred to Albert Einstein as a master of the practice. Whenever the genius was stuck on a problem, he would take a break and play his violin until an idea came. His theories largely started from random thought experiments as opposed to rigid scientific analysis. In the next slide, Alexander introduced another genius, albeit in a completely different field. John Coltrane was a jazz musician whose love of symmetry mirrored that of Einstein's, and he was an avid follower of the latest theories in physics. His Mandala reflected symmetry found in music, and how various scales and keys were related to each other while still keeping their same overall shape, much like modern ideas of cosmology. With these two giants of their fields covered, Alexander began to elaborate on some direct comparisons between jazz and science.

Fourier transforms are a fundamental component of most fields of science and engineering that deal with waves, and serve to deconstruct very complicated waves into constituent single-wavelength waves that have been superimposed on top of each other. For example, a chord in music can be reduced to the notes all played at once to produce it, while individual music notes themselves are also a combination of waves. A waveform of an instrument will produce a dominant frequency that determines pitch, as well as numerous other peaks of reduced amplitude that create the timbre specific to the materials and shape of the instrument. After applying a Fourier transform to the Cosmic Microwave Background, a very similar waveform appears. The primary peak, an "A" note for the record, is the primary frequency of the universe, while the other smaller peaks can be used to determine characteristics about the makeup of the universe, specifically the amount of dark matter and baryonic matter used to create all the material in existence. While this does not indicate a direct connection between a sound-making instrument and the entirety of existence, the parallels between their behaviors intersected in such a way that one was used to better understand the other.

Two jazz improvisational musicians, Mark Turner and Sonny Rawlins, offered to Alexander their strategies for improvisation. Turner said that the "more certain [he is] about note playing, the more possibilities for the next appear." To a physicist, this appears to follow the Heisenberg uncertainty principle, in which the more that is known about a particle's position, the more possible trajectories it could be following. A particle can go wherever it wants, so just because it is in one particular location does not mean it will always be heading in one specific direction, just like Turner's note. Rawlins's style involved picking a start and an end state a perfect 5th note from that start. In between those two notes, it was entirely up to Rawlins to choose any of countless combinations of notes as he worked his way to the final note. According to Richard Feynman, a quantum particle will simultaneously take every possible path to a second point, with every path summing up to a straight line from Point A to Point B. The notes of Rawlins's improv work a similar way, taking many different paths within the same piece to reach the same end state. Following this, Alexander reiterated that he could not confirm just how well-versed either Turner or Rawlins were in quantum physics, but the parallels brought up were incredibly helpful to him as he worked to understand the phenomena of quantum mechanics.

While most of the lecture focused on specific examples of physical phenomena and their relation to music, Alexander briefly touched on the relation between jazz improvisation and research strategies. In group improv, a single instrument might solo, but if the other musicians like what direction the soloist is going, they will change their own tunes to better fit it. In the research firm of which Alexander was a member, they often would use this strategy in brainstorming. The instant any of them had an idea, no matter how seemingly unrelated to the current problem, they were encouraged to speak out. Physicists often used analogies in this brainstorming, and if the idea caught on, it could result in discovery. The example he used was "What if quarks were ducks," to which another scientist could respond "then would they swim or fly?" Like musical improvisation, their research would start with the known beginning point and a desired end state, and be allowed to flow in whatever direction the current situation favored.

The entire talk was fascinating in part because I had never even considered that such parallels in two different fields could be possible. Stephon Alexander's thesis brought to mind the 12-tone system of Arnold Schoenberg, with its hard set of rules and nearly infinite possibilities that did not always make sense, much like the universe itself. As an engineering major and hobbyist artist, it was refreshing to see the level to which parallels between art and science could be drawn; they are not so irreconcilable after all. More influential though was how I was opened to the power of analogy. I generally prefer art and literature that has a very clear main point, and while it can be subtle in presenting support and secondary messages, the primary should be relatively obvious. I have begun to change that belief to accommodate more opportunity for analogies to take on the role of presenting the main idea. The comparison between the peaks of the CMB and those of an instrument's note was the most influential, just because while I could pretty easily see the connection between quantum theory and instrumental improvisational after accepting the uncertainty theorem's relationship, it was mindblowing that such radically different things as a musical instrument and an image of the early universe could have a strong connection. The use of analogies to present ideas has been around almost as long as human storytelling, from the early tales of gods of nature to Jesus's Parables to filmmaking, but to see it still going strong in rational science shows that it is unlikely to go away.

A Review of Sagittarius A.

Travieso's Sagittarius A. captured the enduring strength and power of women in an environment that is persistently hostile towards them. Travieso carried this analogy across three main narratives that were deftly woven together using the technology and architecture available to her in the EMPAC Theater. The blend of dance, narration, projections, and audience interaction made the performance complex and hard to predict while remaining relatively easy to follow and to connect with.

The theatrical performance opened with a dancer (Jennifer Payán) on stage, who is introduced to the audience by the narrator as SA, a powerful being with many arms who creates the universe. She is dancing center stage and is controlling great lengths of fabric that show the power of her and all of her limbs. The narrator continues this story, which has an air of mythology, to introduce a wolf (Jack Magai) who is jealous of SA's power and therefore consumes all of her limbs. Even without all of her limbs, she is - at a great disappointment to the wolf - still much more powerful than him. This legend told through dance and narration is the first of the three not-so-distinct stories that Travieso tells in Sagittarius A..

At this point, the storytelling is interrupted by an entrance from somewhere behind the audience. A lecturer, Dr. Amalia (Catherine Correa), is here to give a lecture on the death of a star and the formation of the Milky Way. She’s a little late – the lecture was supposed to begin at eight – and very disorganized, her overflowing folders of lecture notes are giving her a lot of trouble, and she drops them several times as she tries to arrange them on the stage right podium. This whole process is very comedic and endearing – a great contrast from the narrated, mythical dance piece of SA that we all had just seen. The dancer, irritated, exits up through the back of the auditorium, heading into the booth above and behind the audience. Dr. Amalia’s lecture is the second of three stories.

Then, without Dr. Amalia seeming to notice, the projection upstage switches from her lecture slides to the view from a camera pointed up at the booth, where the dancer, who we learn to be called Ana, has left to. This camera that follows Ana brings us the third story in this theatrical performance. She is getting undressed and does not seem to notice the camera, which follows her closely and fixates on parts of her body. This camera continues to follow her on what is presumably her way home (through a local landmark, Prospect Park), and the mood quickly changes from carefree to suspenseful as Ana feels as though she is being followed. The suspense heightens, she sees a wolf, and she begins to run. The wolf ends up biting her, and she rushes to the Gorge, another local landmark, to clean her wounds. As she cleans them, all of the water (both upstream and downstream of her) in the Gorge turns red, which take this story from relatively believable to surreal. Even though she has been hurt, she is still strong, and she heads off back to the woods, where there now seems to be many versions of her running and dancing.

Ana’s story is told in segments, and between them we go back to Dr. Amalia’s lecture, which – like Ana’s story – gets more surreal as the performance continues. She teaches about the death of a star and the birth of a galaxy, her visuals start off scientific and end up more abstract, later on she is not teaching so much as dancing in different parts of the theater. To wrap up these stories towards the end of the performance, Ana is back and assumes her role of SA, where she is not even more powerful than she was at the beginning, before her limbs were by the wolf. She controls great sheets of white fabric that hang from floor to ceiling on either side of the audience, and the narration picks up again to tell that she controls everything in the universe, the creation and destruction of it all. This segment of dance and fabric is not the same as the piece at the very beginning, but it is similar enough that they bookend the performance and give a sense of resolution to the audience, which I greatly appreciated. Even if I was not able to follow every little detail when the stories of Ana, Dr. Amalia, and SA became less well defined, I – and the rest of the audience – understood that the power that SA represented is very strong. It is something that existed long before us and will continue to exist long after.

Formosa Quartet, Shattering Expectations (Michael Russo)

Upon arriving at Empac on Thursday, October 11th in anticipation of the Formosa Quartet performance I did not know what to expect. I had not been to a show at Empac before and I am not particularly experienced when it comes to events like this. I was attending as an assignment for my Multimedia Century Class, had the assignment not been assigned I definitely would not have been in attendance that night. Even though, I went with an open attitude and wanted to see if this was something that I could enjoy. In simplest terms, my expectations, or the lack of, were absolutely shattered.

The performance consisted of a live audience that moved as a unit through five different settings. In each setting, the Formosa Quartet performed five different musical pieces. The instruments they use were three violins and one cello. In addition, each set featured different arrangements of the audience and performance stage.

In the first setting, the long lines of the anxious audience lined outside the main concert hall were guided to sit on the rows of seats arranged on the stage facing out towards the audience’s usual seats. Upon sitting down I looked diagonally up and notices four silhouette figures with string instruments set up in the top section seats of the audience, often referred to as the nosebleed seats. After the audience settled into the seats of the stage the four silhouette figures began to play a song. Initially, I was confused thinking “I can barely see them”. From what I could see the poetic music and motions the silhouette figures was very uniform and coordinated. In general, I enjoyed the aural and visual experiences that presented themselves in the first show. When the musicians finished they stood up and exited their set up. The audience did the same, quietly, slowly, and carefully moving from their seats into the hallway between the concert hall and Studio 1, which was where the second performance was.

Upon entering Studio 1, the room was dark besides the spotlights in the middle of the room. The purpose of the set up was explicit. The spotlights shining down on the four musicians showcased the seriousness of their attitudes and the focus of their emotions. The audience was arranged in a ring facing the center where the musicians were arranged in a  square diamond shape sitting and facing each other. Once they started playing the piece, the powerful violent jerks of their bows were on full display, quite the opposite of the first performance. Even the choreographed flipping between pages of their music sheets was spot on and perfected. After they finished the song they uniformly stood up and moved to the 3rd setting, the audience did the same. The detail and visual effects of this settings made this my favorite of the five performances. I was impressed with the talent and the rigorous training that was no doubt institutional and on full display in this performance.  

In the third setting, Studio 2, the room was arranged the opposite of the second so that the audience was in the middle facing the musicians on the outside. There were also seats facing towards the center of the room in a corner of the room, this was where I was sitting. The significance of this setup is that the experience of the audience member will be different depending upon which seat they are sitting in. I was between the cello performer and one of the violin performers so the notes from them dominated my ears while the two other violin performers were far away and not as prominent. Like the second performance, the emotions and strength of the musicians were on full display as the majority of the lights in the room were directed towards the musicians.

The fourth performance was in the Theater and when the audience first walked inside there was a lot of confusion as to where we should sit and where the musicians were set up. The Formosa Quartet was set up out of sight of the audience. The red lights illuminating the theater gave a very different impression than previous settings, it was as if I was in a spooky Halloween esk horror movie. While I did enjoy this performance it was my least favorite of the five. The sounds of the music were the emphasis of the performance but the lights and the lack of other visuals made the sound just musical noise since there was no added emotion. Because of this, I could not fully enjoy it as much as the other performances.

Similar to the first performance, the fifth performance was in the in the Concert Hall, but it was a traditional set up with the Formosa Quartet setup on the stage and the audience sitting in the front section of the seats. The performance utilized many of the aesthetics used in the previous performances. For example, the lights were dimmed and brightened to emphasize the structure and flow of the music and the emotions of the musicians was on full display as well. The musical piece had multiple climaxes and there were multiple times during it that I was convinced that it was nearing the end. To my surprise every single time the music built up again. Upon completion of the piece I was convinced that it was going to continue, then there was a pause and suddenly the crowd erupted in cheers.

The event was truly stunning and something that blew my expectations away. The Formosa Quartet did a wonderful set of performances and was able to showcase much of their amazing talent. I did not envision myself enjoying it as much as I did and I would definitely be interested in seeing a performance similar to it in the future.

A Review of If It Bleeds

     If It Bleeds, by Isabelle Pauwels, was a movie that metaphorically demonstrated, in a convoluted and satirical way, the corruption that favors showmanship in MMA. It also showed behaviors, roles or moments that are characteristic inside the sport. The artists style, in general and in the film, was an attempt to deviate from traditional narratives that rely on causality and linearity in the story line.

     In the film, the use of popular culture references made MMA seem more relatable. This is conceptually difficult to film, as MMA lives in a niche world of fighting. Artistic elements in character, props, and filming, could be summarized as being semantically indirect, vibrant, characteristic, motionful, multifaceted, and scrappy.

     The art revolved around a complex, but choppy, narrative and a very cheap budget; props were used to fill in for characters, which was an interesting change from traditional film. I thought it was intelligent of the director to use props instead of people for characters, as it made it easier to focus less about the complexity of the character, and more on the exchange of dialogue.

     Cheap materials used for effects were styrofoam, paint, hats, pom poms, cardboard, paper, a dollar bill, among other things, all of which have many different representational forms when experienced on a day to day basis. I liked, for example, that a beer can did more than sit still when it was used to represent a character; The beer can was compressed when representing a hangover, and was rolled when representing a character being drunk or surprised.

     Form and motion were used with the inanimate objects to convey many sorts of subliminal messages. In one scene, the activity of dotting of black on yellow styrofoam gave an impression of danger. The tightness of a circular borders around a person as overlapping film, gave the impression that the character was under the spotlight and was being scrutinized by people. Careful use of transitions, and auditory spatialization were used to better express dialogue and scene relationships. For example, it was clever that there was an audio recording of soda and tapping markers in one transition, as it hinted that there was a fighting scene occurring in the background in a less menacing way than by showing a normal fighting scene.

     The childish moments resemble improv, and like improv, the film added aleatoric effects that made it become more original, which I enjoyed. The intensity of satire, and choppy nature of the narrative, meant to connect seemingly unrelated dialogue or topics. The lack of obvious connection between parts led me to think meta-conceptually about why seemingly random moments or items were strung to impose an effect. At the end of the film, many elements of reference or symbolism were described in the credits, which I thought was a great addition to clear any difficulty understanding representation and scenes in the film, because of the complexity of the narrative.

Park Jiha: Communion

“Communion” is Park Jiha’s first album, originally released in on November 6, 2016, but performed at EMPAC on September 25, 2018. It’s this live performance that I will be reviewing, having never listened to the album before.

The performance started out not with an address from Park Jiha, but with a short foreword from Johannes Goebel, the director of EMPAC. He spoke about how the quartet of performers had flown here all the way from Korea and weren’t staying long, and that this kind of performance was quite special, even for EMPAC. Regardless of whether he was actively trying to hype up the audience, I will admit that I was quite hyped by his speech. I, personally, was sitting far up in the back; I was far enough away from the stage that I regret not sitting closer.

On stage, Park Jiha herself sits front and center. Supporting Park Jiha and positioned around her are Chris Varga (vibraphone), Kim Oki, (saxophone and bass clarinet), and Jeon Jekon (double bass). Park herself switches between many instruments throughout the performance: piri, a loud, shrill bamboo flute that sounds a bit like a cross between a kazoo and a high-pitched saxophone; yanggeum, an ornate hammered dulcimer with a bridge that splits the strings asymmetrically; saenghwang, a large Korean mouth organ, visually evocative of the bamboo from which it’s made. She does also sing, but only in the last motion.

After the second motion, Park Jiha took a break from the music to address us in the audience and gave us some background information about the event. She shared the names and backgrounds of the people performing with her, and also the names of the instruments she plays. Additionally, she shares her goal: with “Communion,” she sought to push the boundaries of traditional Korean music by adding decidedly non-traditional instruments.

The lead in each motion is unmistakably Park Jiha, save for the first half of the first motion, which introduced the supporting members one by one before she begun to play. This leads to perhaps the only major criticism I can pose, more of the sound arrangement of the event than the music itself. In this first motion, when Park Jiha finally began to play, she played the piri. My problem was that, when Park Jiha started playing, her instrument was so much louder than the others that I found the difference between the volume of her instrument and the supporting instruments overwhelming. Later on, I didn’t get this impression, but I’m not sure if it was because the audio balance was changed on the fly or because I just got used to the loud volume. Perhaps it was by design and meant as an element of surprise, but I’m not very good with sudden, shrill noises.

Beyond that, however, I liked the event quite a bit. Having never listened to “Communion” before, I found myself thinking that the instruments Park Jiha used at a given time were similar in function to that of a lead singer; this gave me the feeling that each song was like a wordless story.

The Korean instruments were also fascinating; I had never seen them before, and I found myself enjoying mentally comparing them to other sounds I heard before. In particular, the yanggeum, when played, sounded almost like it was both a lead and a supporting instrument. A string struck to the left of the bridge sounded subtly different than when struck to the right, and I couldn’t tell if that was inherent to the instrument or if it was Park Jiha’s mastery at play. Regardless, the yanggeum gave any piece it was used in a feel and sense of adventure and progression, like that of a story, and I thoroughly enjoyed that.

 In conclusion, though I haven’t gone to many concerts at EMPAC or elsewhere, I did enjoy “Communion.” If you have the chance, give the album a listen – it’s unlikely you’ve heard very much quite like it.

A Review of the Concert Lost Highway Suite

After listening to the concert, the Lost Highway Suite, it haunted me for days. I couldn't forget the roar of the performer in the far behind, the moment that the cello performer lied down his cello and put on the electric guitar and the atonal but somehow intriguing sound performed by the orchestra.

At the beginning of the concert, it gave me a kind of grisly feeling. The suite of the orchestra seemed that they were going on their own way – the sound that were made by the instruments gave me a feeling that they were sometimes enemies on a battlefield that tried to kill each other, sometimes they were like a group of explorers walking in a haunted house. And the man’s roar just made things worse-it gave me a feeling not only horror but also a kind of torturing. My mind tried to escape from the situation that was trying to bring me back to every horror film that I had watched.

But as I adjust to the sound and slowly adapt to the concert, interesting sounds started to catch my attention. Sometimes there was a period of sound that sounds like the quick going-through car in the morning, along with the noise of the city. It brought me back to the dawn in my home town-the waking up of a busy city on a foggy day. Like I was standing on the middle of an overpass, listening to the sound of the factories located in the far countryside that just started working, watching one or two cars dashing through the fog and leaving the smell of gas, and enjoy the train passing through rarely, leaving the sound of the horn. But sometimes there were harmonic tonal parts, that brought me to the regular concert that I had been to and gave me a peaceful feeling.

The changing of sound is interesting. The discordant feeling of all the sound still existed, but when diving deeply into the sound, the multiple interesting combination started to show up. It began to transform to a dream-like concert. Dreams could be all kinds, so did the concert. When it came to the grisly part, it brought me to the horror films. When it sometimes went into harmonic parts, it brought me into the harmonic concert, or brought me to the traditional dancing party where everyone danced with the melodious music. But when it came to the part that sounded irregular, it brought me back to real life, enjoying the sound around me every day.  The dream-like experience and the experience of jumping back and forward between dream and reality is fascinating, and it stayed in my head for days.

Also, there were astonishing moments, too. The most surprising moment was the man’s roar-I didn’t expect that on a concert that was performed by orchestra, people’s voice would appear. The other astonishing moment for me is when the cello performer put down the cello and picked up the electric guitar. It was like a time machine, blurring the line between traditional orchestra and the modern music.

Maria Hassabi Slows It Down

Choreographer Maria Hassabi's installation piece SlowMeDown consists of about a ten minute loop video on a large screen in the center of a dark room.  A vibrant magenta rug lies in front of the screen for the audience to lounge while watching the video.  The first time I saw this piece I entered the dark studio and came upon a silent pink screen.  I was confused.  Was this it?  But before my impatience reached a critical point, the video cut to repeated clips of a woman walking across the frame, her hair covering her face.  This was coupled with loud machine-like noises.  The suddenness of this change jarred me.  This combination of images and sounds was reminiscent of products coming off of an assembly line.  Since the "product" would be the woman, the baby factories in Aldous Huxley's Brave New World came to mind, and honestly, I found that a bit disturbing.

Other segments that unsettled me also made use of repetition.  A woman walking across the frame to the right followed a separate clip of a man walking across the frame to the left.  While they were the only people in the scenes, I got the sense that they were in crowded places, like a school or a train station, because I could hear the ambient noise of human chatter.  This segment of the video alternated between the two clips, cutting them shorter and shorter each time.  This gave me the impression that the voices were getting louder and louder, but in reality I do not believe they were.  Even so, the segment gave the illusion of something closing in, making me feel anxious.

This is not to say that the piece was not enjoyable.  On the contrary, I found the work quite intriguing and overall extremely relaxing.  Many sequences consisted of the dancers laying on the pink carpet, just like the audience, and moving in slow motion.  The picture would focus on one person, fade out, and return focus on another.  This was a gentle process, the images surfacing and diving like whales in the ocean.  Calming white noise accompanied the visual fuzz that at first glance looked like a television that lost its connection, much like how the audience members lose their connection with the chaotic world when experiencing this piece.  Upon further inspection, I noticed that this fuzz was a close up of the pink carpet fibers, a detail that works fabulously in unifying the work.

What I see as the main driving force behind the unification of the piece also happens to be my favorite part: the colors.  The wardrobe of the dancers serves as the vehicle of the color display.  Their outfits mix bold geometric patterns, some black and white, and others of yellow, orange, and blue.  Even the nail polish was vivid, one of women having neon yellow fingertips.  The same white shoes tied all of the outfits together.  When the screen would blur, all I could make out were the colors and their relative positions.  Each moment like this was a beautifully balanced abstract painting.  This proves how carefully planned the wardrobes and placement of the dancers were in accordance to color theory.  The clearest example of this was at the end of my first viewing experience.  The image of people laying on the pink carpet blurred into swipes of orange and blue.  These brushstrokes of color melted together, slowly being absorbed by the pink.  Silence framed this segment.  I was immersed by color.  I could appreciate the beauty of pure color with no distractions.  Nothing existed but color.  I had reached the point at which I entered, but instead of confusing me, the silent pink screen made perfect sense.  When the assembly line woman came on the screen again I was not as jolted as I was before. I watched the loop three times.

A Review of SlowMeDown by Maria Hassabi

SlowMeDown was a looped cinematic dance performance presented in a dark room that only contained a large screen and large pink carpet for the audience to sit on. The darkness and the minimal number of things in the room allowed the viewers to only focus on what was on the screen without any other distractions; I felt as if I was in a movie theater. However, the large pink carpet on the ground, instead of traditional seating, initially confused me. Yet, once I began to focus on the film that was already playing in front of me, I understood that the carpet was a part of the cinematic performance piece. The pink carpet that the audience was sitting on was an extension of the pink carpet in the film. The inclusion of the carpet made the piece feel multi-dimensional because it transcended from the film’s realm into physical reality.

Once I understood the purpose of the pink carpet and finally focused on the screen, the film was at a point where it was fluctuating between a colorful image of the dancers and the pink carpet. This transition was strangely blurry and did not focus well on either image. I felt as if I forgot my glasses at home and decided to go watch a movie without them. Honestly, I was not fond of this transition as someone who has bad vision to begin with, and hates squinting to try and figure out what is in front of me.

When film had entirely focused on the dancers, I realized the title of the piece was not a joke. The dancers performed their choreography at an extremely slow pace, ranging from complete sculpture-like stillness to snail-like paced movements of individual body parts. However, I appreciated the leisureliness their movements. It allowed me to examine the dancers’ each and every movement and fully see the combination of their movements in “slow motion”. Later in the film, some of the performers’ movements were edited to be repeated multiple times in a row, which allowed me to see something “new” in every repetition of that single motion that I had not seen the first or even second time around. I was able to thoroughly analyze that one particular motion until I was able to see all that was occurring with and around the dancer.

Later in the film, there was a point where there was no music in the film and a complete silence fell in the room. It was the kind of silence where you did not want to make a sound, or you would feel awkward. Yet, I feel the dynamic between the silence and sloth-like movements added something profound to the slowness of the performance and made me focus solely on their movements. The silence complemented the slowness of the movements. Yet, the music came back once I was fully engrossed in the choreography and the silence. However, there was no gradual reintroduction of the music, it was a repetitive cacophonous sound that scared me and those around me. I felt the reinstatement of the music was somewhat refreshing and familiar, but abrupt and juxtaposing to the previous silence.

Overall, I thought SlowMeDown by Maria Hassabi was an interesting way to present a dance performance in a film. The slowness, the stillness, the repetition, and the sound dynamics allowed the audience to appreciate the choreography in a different way than in a traditional dance performance. It allowed me to explore dance choreography more thoroughly and at a leisurely pace than any other dance performance I have ever seen.  

Double Quartet: Strings and Spaces

As we are herded into the Concert Hall, what first strikes me as unusual is that our assigned seating is in chairs laid out on the stage. We face backwards, towards the seating area, no audience in sight. The theater darkens, and the audience is left mystified at the apparent lack of any performers. The lights turn on, and it is realized that the Formosa Quartet is positioned at the very rear of the concert hall, at the very top of the highest balcony. An interesting reversal, but the basic relationship between musician and listener is preserved. They proceed to open up the night’s showing with Joseph Haydn’s String Quartet in E-flat Major, Op. 76, No. 6, 2nd Movement. A soft, sonorous, mellow piece, it has a powerful sound but lacks the energy and impact to work as the very first thing we hear. We’re quickly shuffled off to EMPAC’s Goodman Studio. The stage is a small platform in the middle of the room, with all the chairs laid out surrounding it. The distance is close and intimate, a proximity which makes the music’s expression much more personal than you’d expect from a professional show you bought a ticket for. They play Béla Bartók’s String Quartet No. 4, 5th Movement, rapid, staccato, aggressive and load. It’s an overwhelming and almost scary sound, that certainly wakes you up after the serenity of the previous act. The next facility is Studio 2, where the performers are all separated, playing from platforms adjoining all the four opposing walls. The audience is all in between, and the strange positioning creates a disorienting feeling of not being able to locate the source of the sound, as if the sound is all around you. The music is Bach’s Die Kunst Der Fuge, Contrapunctus XIV. The speed and quality of the music is comparable to the Haydn, but contains a more melancholy melody. The result was my head spinning and my heart not being sure what emotion to express—that’s not saying it wasn’t impactful. The fourth act is presented in the Theater, but the quartet is nowhere to be seen. They’re apparently hidden away inside the orchestra pit. We’re forced to focus all our attention on the sound itself, no distraction from the visual element of the performers’ movements. The music is Returning Souls by Shih-Hui Chen, and it’s a breath of fresh air in a performance preceded entirely by European composers predating 1950. I am ignorant of music, but in the sound of this there was a more Asian quality that came before, an unpredictability that keeps me on my toes, the use of techniques like plucking and almost dissonant notes. The final act is back in the Concert Hall, and finally the stage is normal, the four musicians in front of us where we can see them. A final grounding that brings us full circle, in a context we normally expect to observe a concert. They play Song Recollections by Lei Liang. There are long, drawn out, uncomfortable points, some raindrop-like plucking sections, and finally a number of joyous, energetic sections, full of feeling. It’s a strong sendoff, and the longest show of all. I’m left a bit lost for words in the end. All manner of experiments and styles, it all pulls me in different directions.