Category — BChiu

While sitting in the room waiting for the reading to commence, I noticed a man sitting down in the front row with his back facing me, seeming to be oblivious to whatever was around him; he was reading a book and seemed unaware of everyone standing and talking around him. Little did I know that that man was actually Richard Price himself.

Contrary to my belief that he was a reticent man, his readings from Lush Life and of his encounter with a “woman prophetist” were so engaging that I found myself inching further to the edge of the seat, drawn to his storytelling. Every single sentence he spoke aloud were abundant in description and details. The slang terms used by the policemen and the descriptions of the city streets made the story more engaging for listeners.

His question and answer session was even more interesting to me; I would think that a writer who includes so many minute details and captivating imagery would have to take notes, but he informed the audience that he rarely took notes, and he called himself “just being a sponge” and learning through osmosis about life in the Lower East Side and the separated communities there. He spoke of the fact that he learned on his own, pursuing his writing career with only encouragement and validation from his teachers when he was in school. His down-to-earth conversation with the audience brought me to realize that this author was not ostentatious, but extremely humble, and in one word, talented.

Hazel enjoys chewing on Brownie’s ear instead of eating dog food…

Over the summer, I was helping out at a daycare when my supervisor called me out to the entrance door. I saw a man standing outside; he looked tired and worn out as if he hadn’t slept or eaten for days. My supervisor said she wasn’t able to communicate with him, and asked if I could be so kind as to try to find out what he wanted (he only spoke Spanish). I had not taken Spanish for over a year, but decided to give it a shot.

As I spoke to him in my broken Spanish, I learned that he was from Ecuador and had traveled by boat to America and had no money on him nor food, and he needed to find his friend. I felt sorry for him since he was in a foreign country for only a couple of days and had no way of contacting his friend, for he didn’t have an address nor a phone number, only a mere train stop name. I called back my supervisor and explained the situation to her, and she walked back inside and came back to the door with bananas and a Metrocard. I translated for her saying that she wished him the best and that he have a safe journey finding his friend.

As scared as I was, I knew I should do more, and I offered to walk him to the train and teach him how to get there. When we arrived at the train station, I taught him how many stops to take to get to his friend’s neighborhood and how to use the Metrocard. He looked at me with gratitude and took both of my hands, and said “Muchas gracias” multiple times. I was glad that I contributed to helping this man find his friend, and in the process, practiced my Spanish skills for a good cause.

Entering the extravagant room of the Metropolitan Opera at Lincoln Center, I took in all of my surroundings patiently with appreciation. The gold curtains and the golden walls complemented the red velvety seats everyone was seated in beautifully. The combination of gold and deep red reminded me of nobility, seeming to hint at Rigoletto’s opening scene in the Duke’s court where a ball taking place.

Before the curtains were raised, the chandeliers’ lights dimmed and the audience grew silent. The orchestra lured the audience in with its beautiful music. I was captured by the harmony between each set of instruments. Immediately the orchestra drew me to the edge of my seat, anticipating the curtain raise so I could not only hear more music, but also view how the opera opens up. The curtains split, and we see a group of people in fancy attire socializing and dancing about in the castle of the Duke of Mantua. I was amazed at how realistic the “castle” was, for they looked as if they were taken from an actual castle in Italy and tactfully placed onto the Metropolitan Opera stage; set and costume designer Zack Brown did an amazing job with everyone’s attire and the setting. Moments later, the Duke becomes the center of attention, appealing to as many women as he can by serenading them with his songs. His tenor voice was pleasant to listen to as he attempted to seduce Countess Ceprano with his charm and blatant feelings. Just as Rigoletto entertains the guests at the ball by mocking Monterone, Monterone in his baritone voice angrily curses both the Duke for seducing his daughter, and Rigoletto for making fun of him. By the end of scene 1, the audience is left wanting to see how the Monterone’s curse will affect Rigoletto.

The second scene opens up with a very dim lighting to represent the nighttime in a not-so-urban area of the city. We see Rigoletto hobbling across the stage, pondering about Monterone’s curse and how it would affect him. Sparafucile, a professional assassin crosses paths with Rigoletto and during their encounter, the orchestra plays ominous music when Rigoletto learns of Sparafucile’s occupation. Their conversation ends with Sparafucile chanting his name multiple times to Rigoletto; the actor playing Sparafucile impressed me with his ability to project his voice and hold a note, although it seemed to quiver a little bit, a term also known as vibrato.

Later after Rigoletto expresses his fears of the curse to his daughter, Gilda, he forbids her from ever leaving the house except to attend church. In secret, she confides in her nurse about her guilt for hiding the truth about the man he met at church, and declares her infatuation for this man. When the Duke overhears this outside of the house, he barges in declaring his love for Gilda, and persuades her that she is the only girl he loves and gives her a false name so Gilda would not know his identity. After he leaves, Gilda sings an aria alone, singing “Gualtier Maldè! Caro nome.” Near the end of her aria, she sang many high notes with an incredible ability to both hit the notes and project them through the audience.

The chemistry between actors George Gagnidze and Christine Schafer playing Rigoletto and Gilda made the acting very convincing, and made me pity Rigoletto for the curse upon him as well as his disappointment in Gilda when she revealed her secret relationship with the Duke at church. Overall, I commend Paolo Arrivabeni for his excellent conducting of the orchestra and the actors of Rigoletto for a wonderful performance.

picture found on: http://www.nytimes.com/2010/10/04/arts/music/04rigoletto.html

Coming from a dominantly Caucasian elementary and middle school, I had no idea what I was in store for when I entered Bronx Science. In my middle school, there were less than ten Asian students in my graduating class. I entered the yellow “cheese bus,” as my friends called it, and I saw a whole bunch of Asians just staring at me as I walked to an empty seat. I felt lonely and as if I were an outsider, even though I too am Asian.

When I arrived at school, there was a mass of students crowding the entire block. It was the first time I saw that many Asian students congregated in one area. I called my upperclassman friend Lin to pick me up since I did not know anybody there, and he greeted me with open arms only minutes later. When we entered the building, he showed me around, telling me which wing contained which room numbers, and that I should find him after school so I could meet some of his friends.

The day seemed to creep by slowly, and I was anticipating seeing Lin again since he was the only familiar face around here. When I met up with him, he introduced me to all of his friends, and suggested that a good way to get to know people was to join a club.

“Which club?” I asked him.

“Lunar!” he replied with enthusiasm. I had no idea what that club was so he explained to me that club members spent half a year preparing for a Lunar New Year Production in celebration of the Lunar New Year. I decided to consider it since I figured there was nothing to lose.

Weeks later after I joined the club in October, I grew to know many more new faces and learn more about the traditional performances of Lunar, as well as some random facts about Chinese culture that I was never exposed to back in middle school, and I’m glad Lin forced me to open up and try new things; I even ended up performing a modern dance that year, and sang for the next two years’ performances as well, and was awarded the title Vice President for my senior year.

From electronic noise concoctions and solid white leotards, whimsical music and colorful outfits, rhythmic bells and traditional costumes, to what seemed to be 80’s music and golden athletics wear, Fall for Dance had viewers engaged throughout the entire night.

The first dance successfully captured everyone’s attention from the instant it started. Silence accompanied the Xovers’ dancers’ movements before strange random electronic sounds filled the room; if its intentions were to frighten people, then it successfully did its job for me. The Grudge-like sounds and the sound of static induced my fear of the woman standing just off the stage. Dancers had excellent control of their body movements and partners danced flawlessly with each other in such precision and purposeful movements. I was left in my seat confused by the end of their piece, wondering what the next dance piece would be like…

I Can See Myself in Your Pupil immediately brought me to the edge of my seat in hopes of seeing the stage better. It was a completely different dance style, where every dancer was costumed in colorful, different clothing and the music was whimsical and upbeat; their music wanted me to get up on my feet and start dancing because it was so happy. The female contortionist provided comedy throughout her actions and interactions with her fellow dancers, which kept viewers on the edge of their seats wanting to see more. All of the dancers’ movements seemed effortless, but it was evident it took a lot of practice to make their movements seem to flow right out of them. The chemistry between the dancers was excellent, as if they’ve been dancing together all their lives.

Vistaar was a mesmerizing dance between a lead woman and her four followers; the blue-toned stage with orange lights seemed to put the dancers in a trance where they all followed the methodical rhythm from musicians hidden from view. I could not forget the chiming of the bells from each dancer’s ankles and waist reverberated off the walls of the room, all in harmony with one another. These dancers’ bells were in sync with one another, which provided a beautiful accompaniment to the music provided by the musicians’ hidden behind the curtains. The dancers’ hand movements were synchronized at the perfect height and perfect timing, which made the performance all the more enjoyable to watch.

Lastly, as a grand finale to keep people from falling asleep, Miami City Ballet presented viewers with “The Golden Section.” Dancers wore athletic costumes and exuded energy to represent their title “golden.” Their energy oozed out into the audience waking everybody up even though it was already 10 o’clock at night. The bright yellow lights shined on each of the dancers in such a way that it seemed these lights fed these dancers power to dance with such vigor.

Fall for Dance was comprised of four very different dances that appealed to every audience’s taste. Kudos to all the choreographers who developed the moves that all the dancers followed flawlessly, for I fell for dance.

Picture from http://www.nycitycenter.org/tickets/productionNew.aspx?performanceNumber=5329

Christmastime, 2007. It was the first time I was going to visit my relatives who lived in Taiwan. I had only been out of the country to Cancun, Mexico, and I was at a nice resort where everything was high class and I was shielded from the impoverished areas of Mexico. When I went to Taiwan, I was expecting the same thing when I went to my aunt’s home in Kaoshiung, Taiwan. However, on the drive from the airport to my aunt’s home, all I saw were trees, trees, and more trees.

I am used to urban areas, not the countryside. Little did I know that I was being thrown into the poor area of Taiwan. When I arrived at my aunt’s home, I was in shock. Her neighborhood was full of overgrown weeds, peddlers on the street, and stray dogs wandering around every now and then. The exterior of her home was old-fashioned, made of stone walls and having metal fencing to protect the windows. When I entered, it looked like a decent home, but it was nowhere near the comforts of my home. My aunt had strict rules: conserve the clothes you wear because we conserve water and don’t use the washing machine too often, don’t take showers more than ten minutes long, and lights out by 10PM. I hated these strict rules in her home, but as time went on, I grew to understand why she was so conservative.

We went to different points of interest in Taiwan, and occasionally wandered through poor towns. We passed by a temple where I saw many people just sitting on the floor, some missing limbs, while others looked emaciated. I saw now why my aunt was being so conservative: she wanted to be as efficient as she could in the way she lived her life. I realized now that I take so much for granted living in New York, and that I have it so good compared to my aunt, as well as other people who live in underdeveloped areas in the world. The longer I stayed in Taiwan, the more I grew to love my heritage. Featured above is a picture of my family eating at one of the road stands where they sell fried tofu. I know I’m not the focal point of the image, and the rest of my family is in here, but I wanted to emphasize how much I appreciate my family over the luxuries I have here in New York.

Charles N. Li wrote a powerful memoir displaying the difficulties he experienced from childhood to adulthood, from his family’s extreme downgrade from a wealthy family to an impoverished family living in the slums of Nanjing, to being denied of entering college due to his father’s status in China. Li demonstrated his emotional struggles throughout his book, from his separation from his nanny, his attempt to become closer to his distant mother, to his constant strive for acceptance by his father.

Li’s memoir seemed incomplete at various points in the book; in many instances, Li jumped from one event to another without any subtle transition. His division of the book into five parts helped aid the reader in terms of figuring out Li’s whereabouts, but other than that, the reader was left struggling to figure out what other events happened between every division of the book.

However, I still thoroughly enjoyed reading Li’s memoir since his detailing for what was mentioned was well-written; I enjoyed reading about the adventures he had with his friends in Nanjing, the extermination of the Four Pests in his reform school, as well as his reunion with his father at the end of the book. Although English was not his first language, Li managed to pull off successfully an intriguing memoir of his journey of how he became who he is today.

Standing in the 53rd street train station after spending a day with my friends, I heard a peculiar sound. Normally when you’re in a train station, all you hear are the high-pitched screeching of the train tracks when a train is moving through the station or the loud chatter of fellow transit riders ready to go home after a long day at work. However, this sound was different; it was the plucking of strings that made this almost ominous sound. I followed the sound to see where it was coming from and saw a Chinese man sitting down to the right of the turnstiles, with a large instrument propped on a table in front of him. He wore these picks on his fingers, and every time his finger met a string, it made a plucking sound that echoed throughout the train station.

Born in the United States, I’ve never seen Chinese instruments except for the booming drums that are used during Chinese New Year when there are lion dances and dragon dances in Chinatown. This was something new to me, since I am used to the more-known instruments such as the piano, trumpet, flute, and guitar. This Chinese instrument I later looked up, was called the gǔzhēng, translated as “ancient plucked zither;” it has 6 to 21 strings, which in musical terms can be tuned to give up to four complete octaves. Seeing this instrument in a New York City train station made me feel as if there is culture everywhere, and that music is not limited to only one location of the world.

http://www.listenforlife.org/oneworldwalk/10musicfest_files/guzheng.jpeg

With a photo gallery located on 57th Street in Manhattan, Howard Greenberg has established himself in the New York City scene, as well as around the world as a renowned photography curator and dealer. However, Greenberg did not start out with the dream career of being a photographer. He initially studied to become a psychologist in college, but stumbled upon photography after a family friend’s trip to Japan landed him with a camera. Many people spend years of their life trying to figure out what they want to do as a career, but with his new camera, Greenberg found his calling and decided to become a photographer.

Greenberg started off as a freelance photojournalist when he moved to Woodstock, NY in the 1970s. Throughout his time in Woodstock, Greenberg created a name for himself and had many of his photographs published in papers such as the New York Times as well as magazines; he opened up the Center for Photography in Woodstock in 1977. He takes great interest in mid-century photography, although he is familiar with both 19^th and 20^th century photography; in 1980 opened up the Howard Greenberg Gallery in Soho, Manhattan to exhibit great works by famous photographers from the past and present. Greenberg’s gallery is now located on 57th Street and consists of a diverse number of prints that show different styles of photography from every artist.

picture found on: http://www.aperture.org/partypics/detail.php?id=2