Awakenings

The art of street photography is tricky business. Fortunately, Jeffrey Mermelstein has mastered that art. He came in to speak to the Arts in New York City class at Baruch College. Mr. Mermelstein came prepared with hundreds of his pictures. During the slideshow, he told us all about his techniques and his passions for photography.

For Jeffrey Mermelstein, a street photographer is someone who goes out to the real world and scopes out slices of life that are real and un-staged, and tries to grab those moments. He particularly enjoys the style of documentary, which is a form of straight-forward photography. It fascinates him to make a picture from the real world. He always walks around with his camera and takes pictures from where he stands, not paying attention to the angle. He used to use the flash during the early ‘80s but ceased to use it because it hinders the degree of realism in the picture. His mastery in the art came early in his life.

Mermelstein was exposed to street photography at a young age, which makes the art feel instinctual for him. The fact that he enjoyed taking photographs made the work even easier. He is not only interested in people but also in things on the ground, walls, etc. Many of his pictures feature a simple item lying on the street. In one of his pictures, he photographed a half-eaten pretzel leaning on a wall. Mermelstein has published several books, one of which is titled Sidewalk (in ’99.) Along with the work that is his lifestyle, just transferring something real into the camera and producing a picture gives him his greatest satisfaction.

Berenice Abbott (July 17, 1898 – December 9, 1991) was one of the first photographers to capture the beauty of a great city. She was an American photographer best known for her black-and-white photography of New York City architecture and urban design of the 1930s. Abbott was born in Springfield, Ohio, moved to New York in 1918, and went to Europe in 1921. She studied sculpture for two years in Paris and Berlin. She became involved in photography in 1923 when she was introduced to Man Ray. She later wrote, “I took to photography like a duck to water. I never wanted to do anything else.” Abbott returned to New York in 1929 and immediately saw its photographic potential. She was hired by the Federal Artists Project (FAP) to supervise one of her greatest projects. (more…)

Diane Arbus held true to her title as “the chronicler of freaks,” as she captured those who were socially ignored and castrated. Born on March 14, 1923, she grew up in a rocky family with a workaholic father and clinically depressed mother. As a child, she was excruciatingly shy, living in constant fear. She had hidden secrets, a dark imagination, and preferred darkness over light. She “loved, in fact, to stay in a pitch-black room where she could wait for monsters to come and tickle her to death.” This upbringing played its role because it influenced the style in her photography. (more…)

The sight of rusty, miniature kids’ rides on Brooklyn streets triggered nostalgic memories of weekend outings with my grandfather. The tiny carousels, remnants of childhood on busy city streets, were the inspiration for my photography project.

Overwhelmed by a city that offers limitless possibilities to photographers, I decided to retrace the familiar routes of my neighborhood bearing the theme of childhood in mind. I set out early on Sunday morning to take advantage of the clear skies and sunshine, since I would have more difficulty wielding the technological features of my camera.

I roamed the sidewalks of Sheepshead Bay and Gravesneck shooting photos of yellow bug automobiles, flags, balloons, birds and anything that I connected to childhood by free association. I had no intention of using these photographers but rather get acquainted with my camera.

Immediately, I became aware of the glances and whispers of pedestrians, the few individuals that were walking their dog or running early errands at 10:00 am. Passersby after passerby smiled but I was certain they were thinking, ‘what is that girl doing?’ By noon, a man parking his car actually asked me if I planned to photograph everything in sight. Strangely embarrassed, I explained rather apologetically that I was working on a class project.

However, by 3pm I had dissolved behind the camera’s lens. Pedestrians would look through me, but I no longer felt their stares. I had grown distant from the street life and floated above the afternoon commotion, a silent and independent observer. In this optimum state I was most observant and sensitive to the theme I intended to capture.

The most satisfying photographs were the spontaneous shots of people, the successful captures of disgruntled looks, curious smirks and furrowed eyebrows that lasted only a few seconds. I was amused by my own transformation as I shamelessly pursued a couple and their child, happily shooting away at any kid within my camera’s radius.

I became intrigued by the patterns that emerged in my photographs. As I photographed parents with school-aged children, mothers with toddlers in strollers and fathers with babies seated in knapsacks, I was amazed that all the children had noticed my presence, starring directly into the camera. Not one adult looked into the camera’s lens. Perhaps, adults do not have the luxury to let their minds roam free, burdened by daily to-do lists and endless responsibilities.

My project would not have been complete without documenting the childhood icons that invited the theme itself. I scouted out four child rides: a yellow donkey, a turquoise horse, a white pony and some type of duck. From the bottom up, drastically close and from behind, I tried to capture these rides as children saw them, from their strollers or seated behind the riding bars.

Final photographs of bird clusters, store window toys and vending machines completed my collage of childhood images. In sorting over 400 photographs, I was struck by the resemblance, pattern and unity of the seemingly disparate images. The capstone of my photography project was a sequence of photographs that told a narrative, a meditative and nostalgic stroll through Brooklyn streets, encountering children and relics of childhood in unexpected places at unexpected angles.

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Reading any novel usually generates a whole array of questions in the reader’s mind. Feather on the Breath of God, by Sigrid Nunez made me generate other sort of questions, which not every other book would raise in my mind. How did Nunez have enough courage to write some of the things she wrote about her family, but more importantly to speak so effortlessly and frankly about her own life? Not everyone has the guts to admit to some of the things he or she did, but that wasn’t the case with Sigrid Nunez. She is the definition of the person who is an open book.
Sigrid Nunez’s childhood wasn’t that of every other person. She was born to a German mother and an older Chinese father, who hardly spoke any English. The communication between her parents was limited due to the lack of language. Clearly, her family was not what an average person would consider “normal.” There are many people in this world who do not know much about their fathers, mothers or even both. That is usually because for whatever reason they didn’t live with the parent they know little about. Even though her father worked a lot, she lived with her dad and saw him periodically. However, she knew very little about him, and his life. The reason behind this is that her father was not able to speak English well and also he wasn’t the kind we would consider to be social. He was Chinese and she was American. He worked and associated with Chinese; she knew nothing about his life and was exposed very little to her Chinese heritage. Her father was like a roommate, an outsider living under the same roof.

Those who have never met their fathers, or whose father wasn’t a big part of their life aren’t that different from Sigrid Nunez, who in all reality, too, has never met her father.
Her family was a bit eccentric, but the saying: “apples don’t fall far from the tree” is not proven wrong about her own life. Unless you have the opportunity of meeting Sigrid Nunez after reading the book, you will think that she is just another author, who elaborated her life story to make the book a better seller. However, she did nothing of that sort. She has this unique vibe, this exceptional effect on people whom she meets. Some might describe it as a particular sort of humor. When someone asked, “Did she and her friends really do acid, while driving?” not only did she admitt to the fact, but she also talked openly about it. And the way she spoke about it, with such nonchalance, says something about her character. She is very confident,  and because she didn’t become a drug addict, she claims that: “Drugs are normal part of teenager’s life.”

Given her family background and her own unique individuality, only after meeting her in person, will you understand how she was able to write “The Feather on the Breath of God” and appreciate the book. In contrast to some other books, like “Who She Was” by Samuel Freedman, her writing might not seem as well polished, and her book is at times not as coherent, taking bits and parts of her life and arbitrarily putting them together on one page. However, her novel isn’t any less intriguing.  One thing you will not come across in either her book or if you were to meet her in person, is a bit of insecurity.

Even a very small theater company can put together a mind-blowing performance in any theater or even a classroom. Director Rubin Polendo was able to do just that and share his insights exclusively with us. Unlike movies today, where anything is possible because of the special effects, there is only that much you can do in an enclosed, live theater. As Rubin Polendo pointed out, you have to use a little bit of imagination on the audience’s behalf. If an actor has to shoot someone during a performance, he doesn’t need a gun; he can shoot someone with sunglasses. All the actor has to do is take a pair of glasses and introduce it to the audience as a gun. Then he can shoot anyone with his glasses and audience will be receptive, because they will understand that sunglasses is in fact a gun.
Unlike the movies where everything is shown, every little detail, any kind of a building or place, leaving nothing to the imagination of the viewers, there is only that much you can do in a theater. As Rubin Polendo said, “We cannot bring an ocean into a theater, therefore we have to do the best we can to find something that can represent it.” In a theater, the audience has to be receptive enough to be able to understand and imagine that ocean. For example in Blind mouth singing, the well, instead of being vertical as it is in the real world, was horizontal. The audience has to understand and make sense of that. The reason Rubin Polendo chose to do so is because that gives another perspective to the audience, a special viewing angle that allows us to see everything with a much better perspective. One advantage of everything being vertical is that when Reidirico spoke into the well, we (the audience) were able to see Lucero speak back.  Throughout the play, there was so much action involved in that well. For example, when Reiderico was pulling Lucero out of the well, we would have never been able to see all the struggles, had the well been vertical as it is in real life. If this play were a movie, director would be able to film it from all sorts of different angles so that on the screen we wouldn’t miss any part of the action. However, there would be nothing left to our imagination. Because the audience sits at one spot, we have one viewing angle and because the well was vertical we got the best possible view. It is very interesting how while you watch the play, you never think of these details. However after our interview with Rubin Polendo, we understood just how meticulous and thoroughly thought out every detail was.
Actors in the “Blind Mouth Singing” were able to completely isolate themselves from the rest of the world and perform as if no one was watching. In a bigger theater, lights can certainly help the actors do that, because they enable the audience to see the stage, at the same time making it a lot harder for the actors to see the audience. However Reiderico did a phenomenal job isolating the audiences when he acted out a small part of the play in the classroom. He was literally 3 feet away from students who were sitting in the front row, but it was as if they didn’t exist. His mind was somewhere else. In his eyes you could see that he was in another world. As he later explained, this was because of the fourth wall the actors create in their minds between the audience and themselves. Because of this “world”, it’s as if the actors are in a different world, detached from everyone else. It’s as if they are in their own room, doing whatever they are doing and completely unconscious of the audience’s presence.
Blind Mouth Singing is a perfect example of a brilliantly designed play, which does not require a big financial budget, but does impress its audience. For about sixty thousand dollars, which is considered very little for a play production, they were able to impress us all, with their mind-blowing performance. After all it’s not the money that makes the play intriguing, it’s how well the director has thought it through, and how well the actors were able to articulate the meaning of the play. Blind Mouth Singing is the perfect example that does both.

“When I am in my painting, I’m not aware of what I’m doing. It is only after a sort of “get acquainted” period that I see what I have been about. I have no fears about making changes, destroying the image, etc., because the painting has a life of its own. I try to let it come through. It is only when I lose contact with the painting that the result is a mess. Otherwise there is pure harmony, an easy give and take, and the painting       comes out well.”

Oh “Tings Dey Happen” really did happen!

Dan Hoyle, the writer and the sole performer of the 90-minute production “Things Dey Happen” was able to keep the audience at the edge of their seats laughing incessantly while taking them through his journey to Nigeria. What is even more surprising is that he was able to do it all by himself in a tiny theater in Soho with nothing but a chair, a box and pitch black walls.
The story takes place in Nigeria, an oil rich country where anything goes. People get murdered, kidnapped jailed for the wrong reasons and all because of oil greedy companies that pay off the Nigerian government for their own interests.
Dan Hoyle, having spent a year in Niger Delta as a Fulbright scholar is able to recreate all of his most staggering experiences right before our eyes. He’s able to blend kidnapping, prostitution and everything else he witnessed into a comedy. Moreover, because this is a one-man show, Dan Hoyle has to be able to switch roles at an amazingly quick pace between characters ranging from a prostitute to an American ambassador. At times you can almost see two different characters at the same instant even though Dan Hoyle is the only performer. This is both, a strong point and the only weakness in the play. Even though it is entertaining to see the same actor as an American ambassador one second and as a the Nigerian prostitute the next, at times it does get difficult to follow. Despite this single flaw it is unbelievable how one actor can keep his audience at the edges of their seats for 90 minutes straight.
What is even more surprising is that nearly all characters in the play are African, each with a unique accent. Dan Hoyle is just one white man, but that didn’t stop him from mastering a whole array of different accents. One moment he is a Nigerian Rebel, the next he is an American ambassador, then a Scottish oil worker. And he is able to recreate each one of those accents with an amazing accuracy. It is shocking and very difficult for a mind to comprehend a single white actor transform into so many different characters, but nevertheless it is remarkable to see someone who is able to successfully do all that.
Not only is Dan Hoyle able to take us on his journey to Nigeria, he is also able to introduce the real problems of today’s world in Niger Delta and makes us sympathize for the many poor people there. Whoever came up with the cliché: “One man can’t do it all” was clearly proven wrong by Dan Hoyle, who was able to do both, successfully write and perform “Tings Dey Happen,” Culture Project latest production.