Art History Class Can Be Fun (if you try)

Write a fictional dialogue between any two aesthetic theorists, modern or historical, that we have read. They are discussing whether or not a particular work of art is beautiful. They may agree or disagree, partially or completely.

Tolstoy: Hegel, I’ve waited so long for this chat. May I call you Georg?

Hegel: Are you my wife?

Tolstoy: Not last I checked.

Hegel: Then…no, Tolstoy. Please don’t.

Tolstoy: Can I get you anything? A cup of tea…a glass of water?

Hegel: I’m dead.

Tolstoy: Right! Me too. We just seem so real!

Hegel: I’m sure some academics would say that we’re just as vital today as we were when we were alive.

Tolstoy: Do you find it strange that we’re speaking English when I speak Russian and you speak German?

Hegel: You think that’s strange…I died when you were three years old!

Tolstoy: I can’t even begin to wrap my head around that…but perhaps I’ll incorporate it into a novel soon. So. You know why I’ve called you here?

Hegel: Yes. Those little worship figures from ancient Mesopotamia…around 2500 BC, yes?

Tolstoy: Yes. Aren’t they wonderful? By the way, they say BCE now. Before the Common Era rather than Before Christ.

Hegel: Christ.

Tolstoy: I know.

Hegel: Well, before I agree that they’re “wonderful,” as you put it, let’s go with what we know. I understand that these figures were intended as prayer statues, to stand-in, perhaps, for human worshippers for the gods?

Tolstoy: That’s what we believe to be true, yes. Do you not see that the artist meant to convey to you the awe of the beholder as they gaze upon a god?

Hegel: Please. Spare me your yawn theory.

Tolstoy: (yawns)

Hegel: (yawns) Stop it!

Tolstoy: Just making my point that art is infectious. My yawn spawns your yawn – it’s the same thing.

Hegel: It is certainly not the same thing. A physical reaction like a yawn could simply indicate that you need to open a window. But I digress…we’re not here to argue about oxygen, are we?

Tolstoy: No, we’re not. I’m just saying that the emotions of the artist to the audience are tantamount to understanding and appreciating art – even these fellows.

Hegel: Oh. These are considered “art,” are they?

Tolstoy: Ah. I suppose now you’re going to tell me that “fine” art is the only art worthy of admiration?

Hegel: No, no – not at all. I think that philosophers like us have taken the idea of art philosophy and heightened it to a place higher than the art itself.

Tolstoy: How so?

Hegel: I believe I once said, in my Introduction to Aesthetics, that ‘…the philosophy of art is … a greater need in our day than it was in days when art by itself as art yielded full satisfaction’ (147).

Tolstoy: Meaning what?

Hegel: Meaning that the artist who created these creatures was in his time and we are in ours. Don’t think so hard. Look here: was the object necessary?

Tolstoy: Oh, I see! You’re saying that the artist wasn’t necessarily creating art for appreciation as an artwork, but because the statue had an intended purpose.

Hegel: Now you’re talking.

Tolstoy: Enlighten me some more.

Hegel: Try this on for size: ‘The beauty of art is beauty born of the spirit and born again, and the higher the spirit and its productions stand above nature and its phenomena, the higher too is the beauty of art above that of nature’ (136).

Tolstoy: That’s very ancient Egyptian of you, “Born of the spirit and born again.” Lah dee dah.

Hegel: Perhaps. An alleged Christian such as you should have plenty to say about multiple deities.

Tolstoy: Don’t get me started.

Hegel: I’m honestly trying to point out that you have overstepped your bounds with your theories of art and art appreciation. You’re a writer.

Tolstoy: What of it?

Hegel: I read some of your aesthetic criticism – if one can call it that – on my way here. In On Art, you say that an artist, “…must be able to express the new subject so that all may understand it. For this he must have such mastery of his craft that when working he will think as little about the rules of that craft as a man when walking thinks of the laws of motion” (175). Honestly. A simile?

Tolstoy: What’s wrong with what I said? I stand by those remarks.

Hegel: You’re simply tooting your own horn by lauding the artist. You are an artist. You’re too close to art to be able to critique it. Look at your ending salvo: “…a true work of art is the revelation (by laws beyond our grasp) of a new conception of life arising in the artist’s soul…” (176). Talk about appreciation of the ancient Egyptians – that’s certainly a summoning of the gods above to prove the greatness of the artist.

Tolstoy: Hey, we were going to talk about these prayer statues!

Hegel: Impossible. There’s no budging you. I could give my opinion all day, and you’d continue back to your point that the artist is the be-all, end-all. I’m more than happy to go back to…wherever it was you summoned me from.

Tolstoy: If you insist.

Hegel: Before I go…do you concur that you’re in no position to judge art?

Tolstoy: Absolutely not. I have opinions about a variety of subjects: literature, politics, religion. I’ll make my case against anyone, even you, Hegel.

Hegel: Yes, but will you win?
Tolstoy: It’s not about winning, it’s about expressing myself.

Hegel: Exactly. You, the artist - and your opinion that must be conveyed to the world. I just don’t buy it. Sorry.

Tolstoy: Let’s do this again some time.

Hegel: Let’s not.

Tolstoy: (yawns)

Hegel: (yawns) Stop it!

What I'd Change About Healthcare

I don't usually have a ton to say about political hotbutton issues. Sure, I have my opinions about political parties, abortion, death penalty, tea parties, speed limit, gay marriage, whatever. I simply choose to lay low and let more vocal types go about their way.
I am lucky enough to have good healthcare. I have reasonable co-pays, reasonable prescription costs - including generic options - and can be admitted to any emergency room without fear of being kicked back out again.
I have two doctor's appointments coming up - one tomorrow, one Monday. Both annual visits, and both doctors have seen me for over 10 years. I don't necessarily look forward to poking, prodding and whatnot, but that's what annual visits are for.
The painful part is the paperwork. I just printed out 7 pages of crap for one of the doctors - the one smart enough to put the forms online so you can fill them out early rather than go 20 mintues early to sit in the waiting room and fill them out there. So much of it is family history that you've written out several times before. I want blanket authority to draw a big X on the page and write, "No Change Since Last Visit," and sign at the bottom. Is that so wrong?

There's Always a Tranny

I visited my mom recently and went to church with her, as is expected. I can go through the prayers by rote and don't much have to pay attention...but I certainly can people-watch while the hour goes mind-numbingly by. One person I can't keep my eyes off of...is a tranny. I think.

Remember "Tootsie" and "Mrs. Doubtfire" and how Dustin Hoffman make really unconvincing women? Not behavior-wise, but LOOK-wise. Middle-aged, house frau-ish and just, well, something ain't right about them? This woman fits every single category: Too much make-up. Not very attractive. Hair looks like a wig. High-collars. Lots of jewelry. Low voice. Mom's tranny happens to have a low voice (I overheard her) and never sings along with the hymns. She's not very tall, and her hands and feet aren't large, but other than that - I'm certain she's got a secret.

I've been to church with the boyfriend's family a few times now...and THEY have a tranny, too!! She hands out programs before service. She's got all of the above PLUS the height, large hands and feet. ...and she's blonde. Which reminds me of the Flight of the Conchords song, "Leggy Blonde," which is about a REAL woman, but still...worth a listen: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7syyywL9JuM

Modern Family

“There’s a reason why this family wants to be together, and there’s a reason why people come to visit and want to stay.” Our director has some lovely ideas about what “belonging” is, and how important this family is to one another.

Those of us who are visitors to the Vanderhof homestead have been asked to think about what we like about the house and what draws us to return. The milk man stayed five years, the ice man (Mr. DePinna) has been there for eight years and counting. Lucky me - my character shows up once and the play is over before she leaves.

I've been thinking a lot about the closeness of some families. There's mine...close, but really more at a distance. There's the boyfriend's...who are so close that they gather at least monthly for a big family dinner AND spend a full long week together in a summer beach house and seem to get along beautifully. Now that I've experienced it with them, it's not just for show - they actually like each other! I've been catching up on the TV phenomenon "Modern Family" as well. Each show's wrap-up points out why they all love each other even though there are arguments, disagreements, misunderstandings, quirks and teasing. (A great, clever show, by the way.)

So that brings us back to the Vanderhof/Sycamore house. Alice knows her family are unusual - to say the least - and goes to extraordinary measures to create the illusion of a "normal" home when her boyfriend's parents come to visit. Yet when those plans are ruined - she makes the incredibly difficult decision to leave and be on her own for a while. Leaving is the last thing she wants to do, but feels a need to have some time by herself. They're her family, odd or not, and they love each other, they love her, and they accept all comers. No apologies, no excuses.

Would I live there? Heavens, no! They be crazy. Would the Grand Dutchess? Probably not. She is brought there by her friend Boris Kolenkhov, with the promise of a free meal. "She has not had a good meal since before the Revolution." Clearly the Grand Dutchess hasn't missed many meals...but they're probably leftovers grabbed from the restaurant taken home to eat later. She and Boris can maneuver their way into the homes of generous friends and share good food and good company. Better than a bread line, wouldn't you say?

Before my entrance at rehearsal yesterday, Andrew (Kolenkhov) came offstage to get me, and said quietly in his non-Russian voice: "They fell for it...now, remember you're supposed to be Russian royalty!" Wouldn't that be awful - but an entirely different plot - if they were shysters and just in it for the food?

You Can't Take it With You

Today marks the first day of rehearsals for our university theater production of You Can't Take it With You. In other words: today is the first day of the rest of my life.

My journey began this past April when I received a call from the production manager saying that the artistic director wanted me to audition. Beg PARDON?? I enjoy staged readings and I certainly would LOVE to act...but that's not what I do! For reals? For reals. I was asked to audition for the role of The Grand Dutchess Olga Katrina.

What's great about her: she's Russian royalty - which means her costume is going to ROCK. She shows up literally ten pages before the end of the play, has her moment, and we're done. Not a ton to memorize - bonus!

She speaks english, but with a Russian accent, so that's a challenge. I emailed my friend Elisa - a vocal coach - post-haste and asked for the best dialogue sources possible, and she was happy to oblige. Ordered a CD and went to work.

The audition was terrifying and exhilirating all at once. In a stage-managerial capacity, I have watched actors audition for years, and I don't envy them a bit. It's part-skill, part-luck, part-game. An actor can give it their all and just not be what the director is looking for. The audition was fun, but I was glad it was over.

Shock of all shocks - the production manager called me back about a week later and offered me the role. Wow. Do you have the right number?? For reals? For reals. I accepted, but fully believe that our artistic director has lost his mind.

Two weeks ago, I met the costume designer at her shop and was measured within an inch of my life for the costume. Again, I've watched actors go through this process for years - but having someone take a tape measure to YOU and know that someone's going to make a dress especially for YOU - it feels pretty darned great.

Meanwhile - I have taken the plunge and officially applied for undergraduate study at the University. This means: I'm registered as a student this semester and am doing the show for course credit hours. Bringing back my blog posts for the rehearsal and run of the show will be cathartic, and I plan to turn them in to my faculty director as a surprise side-project to prove I was doing something besides goofing off - I mean - memorization in my non-rehearsal hours. I hope to have interesting things to say. I'm nervous and excited!! Stay tuned...

Where Babies Come From

I love that I have a life...but hate that it keeps me from random blog posts. Speaking of random...

I want the truth and I want it now. I know I should be much older before I ponder life-altering questions such as this, but, honestly, Where Did I Come From? The useless answers I’ve found so far:
• A stork flew me here (plausible)
• Jesus brought me (less plausible than the stork, but I hear He’s pretty cool)
• Mom & Dad went to a cabbage patch (funny, I don’t feel like a cabbage)
• A 1-800 number from the back pages of Rolling Stone (that makes me feel wanted)
• South Korean laboratories (I don’t feel Asian, either)
• A sea monkey packet that mom & dad “overfed” (that would make me King of the Sea People!)
• The one I’m completely throwing out is the LEAST obvious: mom & dad had “sex” … whatever that is.

Choose Your Own Adventure

OK, so I'm at my gynecologist's office for an 8:15am appointment. When I arrived, there was an older couple sitting in the waiting room. Older, like, 70s. They looked tense. I assumed maybe it was some kind of cancer diagnosis result day - because clearly they're beyond the age to have children.
About five minutes later, in walks a pretty younger woman (I'll give her 30), not visibly pregnant, with a younger guy. They greet the older couple, hugs all around, and sit with them. They do not check in. I think - oh how cute - I bet they're getting a sonogram and want the grandparents to be there. Small talk ensues - though they're not especially chipper or elated.
Some time goes by.
Another young woman walks in, walks up to the counter and checks in. She turns around, timidly says hello to everyone, hugs the OLD GUY ONLY, says, "I'm not sitting down," ...and dashes off to the restroom. Younger guy calls after her: "Why not?" Then looks at everyone else, shrugs, and sits down. Sadly, that's where the story ends. I got called in, and didn't see them again.
Congratulations - if you've read this, you're in the Choose Your Own Adventure mode about this group like I am. Theories??