Tuesday, April 30, 2013
Wednesday, April 24, 2013
Tuesday, April 23, 2013
Reaction: Ai Weiwei: Never Sorry
This documentary followed the life of the artist Ai Weiwei from 2008 to 2011. The opening of the film showed Ai Weiwei’s studio, “258 Fake.” The name of the studio caught me off guard, and foreshadowed the views of Weiwei.
There were over 40 cats at the studio. Weiwei mentions that one of the cats can open doors; and although the other cats watch, they don’t try to open doors. Weiwei also notes how unlike people, cats never close doors behind them. Weiwei’s cat observations made me think deeper about change in China. There may be one person calling for change, while the rest of the population just watches and does nothing. The closing of the door caused me to think about how people are trained. Why do we close doors? Is it because we’ve always been told to do so, while cats on the other hand have no such boundaries?
I was deeply touched by the footage that showed the aftermath of the earthquake that hit Sichuan in 2008. Government school buildings collapsed during the earthquake due to poor construction. Watching mothers crying for their children was absolutely heart wrenching; and to think that the Chinese government refused to release any information about those children was unbelievable.
Ai Weiwei set out to collect all the names of the lost children, which totaled more than 5,000 found, with the help of volunteers and the families of the dead. An interviewee pointed out that even though the names were found, they had been reduced to small letters and birthdays on many pages in Weiwei’s office. To commemorate the earthquake, Weiwei did several things to keep the memory of the children alive during the film. Reaching out on Twitter, he asked followers to choose a name on the list and say it aloud. Weiwei compiled the recordings and released them to the public. In Munich, Weiwei created a large facade for a museum made of backpacks with a sentence pertaining to the life of a young girl lost in the earthquake. The sentenced moved me. Ai Weiwei interviewed the girl’s mother and the mother stated that her daughter had been happy and full of life for the seven years that she had been alive. To me that sentence showed the innocence of youth. The loss of so many young people was a pure tragedy.
While trying to testify at a trial for a fellow activist, Weiwei is detained and beaten by police. Weiwei’s crew filmed the entire thing, and it was shocking to watch. Weiwei asked why he was hit, and officers respond that he had done the damage to himself. Weiwei went through all the legal avenues that China allowed to try to sue the police department, but he is ignored and bullied. Weiwei received a notice for the demolish of his new studio, citing illegal placement. Weiwei was even detained in an undisclosed location for 81 days for alleged tax invasion.
Throughout all of this Weiwei remained strong. He pursued change even when it was obvious that no change would come. He believes in a better government for China, and through his art he is fighting to make that happen.
Wednesday, April 17, 2013
At the Brooklyn Museum
Death Cart 1890-1910
The work is a small, carved wooden skeleton of the angel of death, Dona Sebastiana, that is covered with gesso. She holds a bow and arrow and sits upon a two wheeled cart. The artist was an unknown member of the Los Hermanos Penitentes Society in what is now New Mexico. The sculpture is a smaller version of the death carts pulled by penitent brothers during Holy Week. During this time, public processions reenacted the sorrow and suffering of Christ’s last days with the brothers practicing self-flagellation with whips and dragging large, heavy crosses and death carts. The depiction of the angel of death, Dona Sebastiana in this piece reminds the viewer of human morality and the importance of praying for a “good” death through prayer and virtuous deeds. Though it is not large, the work is striking. The fine details of the hair and skeleton make the sculpture seem almost real.
Gli (Wall), 2010
This sculpture is incredibly large, made of aluminum and copper wire constructed by the by the Ghanian sculptor El Anatsui. El Anatsui became interested in the notions of walls after visiting cities (Jerusalem, Berlin, and Notsie) that have been by walls as religious, political, and social constructs. The word, gli, can mean “wall,” “disrupt,” or “story” in the Ewe language, El Anatsui’s native tongue. Anatsui believes that walls are meant to block views, but instead they only block the view of the eye, not the imagination; and walls reveal more than they hide. Gli allows its viewers to take a close look at the process of creativity and the hard work of the imagination. The sculpture is impressive with its wire workings and beautiful weaving. The incorporation of usually material taken for granted, such as aluminum, and a material seen as valuable, copper, deepens the meaning of the imaginative walls for me.
Tuesday, April 9, 2013
The Rotting Pom
Yarn and Plastic Bags
This is my piece created using the myth of Persephone and the eating of the fateful pomegranate as a base. The "pom" is hand crocheted, an inspiration from the Greek myth of the Fates controlling life using thread and scissors. The softness of the yarn is meant to be reminiscent of the softness of rotting fruit. The color is a direct response to the color of rotting fruit. The use of plastic bags is a reference to death. Plastic is hardly biodegradable, and after something dies (animals, people, food) it is wrapped in plastic and shoved away.
Monday, April 8, 2013
Subway Hero
Man Is Rescued by Stranger on Subway Tracks
It was every subway rider’s nightmare, times two.
Who has ridden along New York’s 656 miles of subway lines and not wondered: “What if I fell to the tracks as a train came in? What would I do?”
And who has not thought: “What if someone else fell? Would I jump to the rescue?”
Wesley Autrey, a 50-year-old construction worker and Navy veteran, faced both those questions in a flashing instant yesterday, and got his answers almost as quickly.
Mr. Autrey was waiting for the downtown local at 137th Street and Broadway in Manhattan around 12:45 p.m. He was taking his two daughters, Syshe, 4, and Shuqui, 6, home before work.
Nearby, a man collapsed, his body convulsing. Mr. Autrey and two women rushed to help, he said. The man, Cameron Hollopeter, 20, managed to get up, but then stumbled to the platform edge and fell to the tracks, between the two rails.
The headlights of the No. 1 train appeared. “I had to make a split decision,” Mr. Autrey said.
So he made one, and leapt.
Mr. Autrey lay on Mr. Hollopeter, his heart pounding, pressing him down in a space roughly a foot deep. The train’s brakes screeched, but it could not stop in time.
Five cars rolled overhead before the train stopped, the cars passing inches from his head, smudging his blue knit cap with grease. Mr. Autrey heard onlookers’ screams. “We’re O.K. down here,” he yelled, “but I’ve got two daughters up there. Let them know their father’s O.K.” He heard cries of wonder, and applause.
Power was cut, and workers got them out. Mr. Hollopeter, a student at the New York Film Academy, was taken to St. Luke’s-Roosevelt Hospital Center. He had only bumps and bruises, said his grandfather, Jeff Friedman. The police said it appeared that Mr. Hollopeter had suffered a seizure.
Mr. Autrey refused medical help, because, he said, nothing was wrong. He did visit Mr. Hollopeter in the hospital before heading to his night shift. “I don’t feel like I did something spectacular; I just saw someone who needed help,” Mr. Autrey said. “I did what I felt was right.”
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