Humanities post #7

The first time I saw a Mark Rothko painting in class, I fell in love with his beautiful abstractions. I am fairly picky about the abstract art I enjoy, although my tastes have become broader since I began taking humanities classes. However, I didn't need to stretch my limits to accept Rothko's works as art: his incredible sense of the tender balance in colors between contrast and harmony, and his ability to gracefully sculpt the connections between colors (creating simultaneous definition and blurring) amaze me.

Rothko believed that his paintings were inherently spiritual. They were intended to create in the viewer a sense of something more than just an appreciation of his fusing of colors. In order to facilitate this type of deeper appreciation, Rothko did many of his colorfield paintings on huge canvases, and had them hung as low to the ground as possible. He even suggested that viewers stand as close as 18 inches from the painting, in order to feel immersed in the work. Essentially, he wanted his art to be experienced, not just observed. As an admirer of his work, I wish I had the opportunity to stand that close to an original. Even just seeing little thumbnails on a google image search, I have begun to feel some of the inner movement that I think intended viewers to experience.

To me, that inner motion comes in the form of music. I see music in his paintings; and after all, why not? There are some abstract painters (such as Wassily Kandinsky) believe there is a very strong connection between abstract painting and music. The blocks of color in Rothko's works shape themselves into chords and harmonies when I view them. For example:


I hear the lonely wail of a cornet over a solemn drumbeat; an elegy to the fallen soldiers in a battle.

I hear the thrill of a celebratory may-pole dance.

And I hear the beautiful interplay between a throbbing cello and the soft echoes of a vast concert hall.

To me, this undeniable musicality marks incredible talent. It proves to me that Rothko wasn't just slapping on some colors and blurring the edges a little bit. He could feel the colors, and understood the emotional interplay between various hues. He knew that the human mind is deeper than "blue and white" or "orange, blue, and yellow." I appreciate that. I appreciate that Rothko allows me to see myself in his works, and strives to help me come to a deeper understanding of what is inside of me.

Humanities post #6

Elvis Presley was born in 1935 in Mississippi. He was raised in a religious family, and grew up singing in church services and the community. When he was discovered by Sam Phillips, who was thrilled to have found a white man who sung like he was black (a combination he was sure would be incredibly successful), Elvis quickly began to gain popularity with hits such as “Hound Dog” and “Heartbreak Hotel.” Now, he has been indicted into four musical halls of fame, won multiple Grammys, and is regarded as the King of Rock and Roll. His cultural significance is inestimable. Whether or not you enjoy his music, it is impossible to ignore the mark he has made on our culture since his explosion onto the musical scene. From Vegas impersonators to pop-culture references (such as the lyrics in a Katy Perry song “…dressed up like Elvis”), Elvis is undeniably a part of our nation’s heritage.

“All Shook Up,” the Elvis tune we chose to choreograph our dance to, was composed by Otis Blackwell, and recorded and released by Elvis in 1957. In less than three weeks, it claimed the #1 spot on the Billboard Top 100 chart, and it stayed there for 8 weeks. It also made its mark as #1 on the R&B chart for 4 weeks and #3 on the country charts. Although Elvis had many, many #1 hits in his career, this one is particularly significant because it was his first #1 UK single.

Any Elvis song is generally considered representative of rock ‘n’ roll; after all, he is The King. This song is particularly appropriate for a couple of reasons: first, it was one of his #1 hits; second, there is a musical featuring many of Presley’s songs titled “All Shook Up;” and thirdly, the song itself uses many familiar rock ‘n’ roll musical conventions such as a boogie woogie beat, a dominant piano (typical of rock ‘n’ roll in the early 50s), and a strong, consistent, backbeat.

After spending some time listening to various Elvis songs trying to choose one for our dance, I feel like I am starting to understand why he was such a hugely influential figure. Before this class, I had never listened to Elvis, and all I knew about him was that he committed suicide and Vegas was the place to go to see impersonators. Now, I have a general understanding of his personal history and his amazing talent and variety. His songs are lyrically and musically diverse (which surprised me, mostly because I knew very little about classic rock at all, and had minimal expectations for the genre). His musical progression over the years is incredible, and yet (with his gradual descent into addiction and depression) deeply saddening.

I learned a lot of new things working on this piece. First, that I love “Suspicious Minds.” Second, there was a good reason so many people loved Elvis: he’s amazing. And third, that I will probably always find something radically new to me in the world of music if I am willing to step outside my comfort zone and my generational bubble and admit that yes, I love listening to the music of (x) generation.

Watch it on Youtube: Suspicious Minds or All Shook Up

Humanities post #5

Hum 262
Paper #3


Blowin’ in the Wind
I never realized how significant this song was in the 60s and even today. I suppose I should have guessed that at its importance simply because I know and recognize it, which I can’t say for very many songs of that era. To me, it sums up the feelings of frustration and regret that filled the young people of the 60s with its unanswered questions; repetitive, driving melody; and the expression of a wishful, elusive hope for solutions. I particularly like the Peter Paul and Mary cover – their soft, folky, lyricism speaks to me.
Although my initial reaction to the song was to tie it firmly to anti-war sentiments of the time, I changed my mind when they began to discuss how hesitant Bob Dylan was to provide an explanation or interpretation of the lyrics. The commentators who discussed his response emphasized that perhaps Dylan’s refusal to offer a concrete interpretation was more appropriate than stubborn; after all, it allowed the song’s intentional vagueness to speak to many people in many situations. Personally, I started to see connections to personal frustrations – people and situations in my life that seem to make the same repetitive mistakes without ever learning from them – rather than just see it as a song written before my time for people who lived before my time.

Watch on Youtube: Blowin' in the Wind (Peter Paul and Mary)



Night and Day
I really appreciated the elements of technical musical theory analysis included in this NPR clip, particularly the discussion of Porter’s use of the 7th chord after the opening drive. The harmonic structure of this 4-note chord – the three bottom notes form a major triad, while the top three form a minor triad - evokes feelings of frustration, desire, and perhaps even ambivalence. The reporters also noted the significance of the opening section: 8 bars filled with the same note repeated 30-something times, and how that contributed to the undeniable drive that fills the whole song. After hearing this analysis, I realized why I felt so pulled along by the song’s current: not only does the song speak to me poetically (as it does to anyone who has ever been in love, I think), it is also mechanically structured to have that effect.
Towards the end of NPR’s segment, they discussed the personal life of the composer: how he was a wanderer (although he was happily married for more than 30 years, he had multiple homosexual affairs), his international acclaim, and his wealthy lifestyle. His roving eye, in particular, lent a deeper meaning to the song for me. I can easily imagine Porter feeling the drumming, relentless need for a lover that he poetically describes in “Night and Day” - knowing that he shouldn’t, but needing it badly enough to pursue it anyway.

Watch on Youtube: Night and Day (Fred Astaire)



Symphony of Psalms
Although I have performed this piece (as a member of the choir), I never knew much about the history or background. I found the brief exposition on Stravinsky’s personal life during the composition particularly enlightening. It was composed between the two world wars, a time of great world turmoil. Not only was Stravinsky living in a politically charged world, but his personal world was also exceptionally turbulent at the time: he was under financial duress, and his marriage was crumbling because of his affair. These emotions are expressed beautifully in the rhythmic, desperate, animalistic cries of the brass and wind replete throughout the work. Although I have always appreciated the power of the work, I never realized how potentially personally expressive it was. Interestingly, Stravinsky denied having expressed any part of himself in the work.
Although I knew that the orchestration for “Symphony of Psalms” was unusual, I didn’t realize how unusual it was until the reporter said something to the effect of “the musicians had to play musical chairs to get in place to perform.” The absolute absence of violins and violas is incredible – no wonder the piece has such a different feel. In thinking about the unusual sound of the work before, I have always focused on his erratic rhythms and highlighting of the brass, not realizing that a great part of it was also due to the lack of half the string instruments.
This piece was already special to me because of the incredible experience I had performing it in Carnegie Hall as part of the National High School choral festival. However, learning more about it has opened new avenues of interpretation and understanding for me: I can see connections between the relentless, forceful sounds of symphony and my personal turmoil, because of the real-world historical insights that were highlighted in this episode.

My high school choir in Carnegie Hall, rehearsing before the performance of Stravinsky's "Symphony of Psalms" and Poulenc's "Gloria"