The Zen master D. T. Suzuki once wrote: "In Zen there is nothing to explain by means of words....Do not remain silent; nor be discursive." Performance artist Tom Brady, in his new work Emozioni Ricordati (Recalled Emotions), presented by ANNONYarts, has constructed a collage of forms without form that evoke primeval memories and glimpses of what we once were, are and are becoming.
Brady's three-movement work spreads itself--and him--throughout the aptly-named studio and performance space he has created in St. Louis' Grand Center Arts District, Satori: An Artist's Space. He utilizes basic shapes common to our three-dimensional reality--an oblong box, ascending stairs, pegs on a wall--as a backdrop for his lithe movements that jab at our neglected awareness of ourselves and our environment and remind us that we are physical beings mired in physicality, yet blessed with a spirit that embodies seeking, yearning, exploration and evolution. As we pause to reflect, the flash of insight is akin, perhaps, to the renewed and clarified vision we experience when we achieve satori, the initial step to enlightenment.
As a performance artist, Brady's creativity in this one-man show embraces movement, sound, poetry, structure and visual effect. Like opera, performance art is comprehensive, and involves all art forms. Brady created the atonal music that creates a wall of sonority that frames each movement of his work, assisted by percussionist Rich O'Donnell in the first work. The music is flowing, organic and electronically fortified, yet rhythmic, and seems to ooze like seeping water into the performance space. The costumes run from a close-fitting amphibious body-suit to a red-turbaned gymnast to a white-plumed creature flirting with flight. Mark Raeber's lighting is sparse and sufficient throughout.
The opening section of Emozioni Ricordati is entitled "Man in the Box", and begins with Brady emerging from a coffin-like oblong box, replete with a dark spirit underneath played by assistant Laura Murphy, who performs double duty as stage manager. Like a nascent life form rising out of primordial substance, Brady's nebulous spirit begins to explore its environment and take account of itself, ultimately re-alighting on the box from which it came. In the second segment, "Crescent", Brady winds his body about a black staircase, ascending to wherever the viewer's imagination would see it go, accompanied by Brady's narration constituting a reflection on the meaning of being present and being not-present, perhaps somewhat like a meditation on the impact of our beings on ourselves and others. In the concluding movement, "Sore/Soar", a nameless anthropomorphic creature, swaddled in stoles made of white plastic ties, strives to free itself from the earth.
In the discussion which followed the performance, Brady was asked if there was a unifying theme to the three movements of the total work. Brady, in true Zen spirit, did not dictate what the theme or themes might be, but felt that a theme could emerge after considering the work in its entirety. Although it is probably best to allow each viewer to make up his or her own mind, some of the words and descriptors that come to mind would include "evolution", "exploration", "effort", "reflection", "desire"--just to name a few.
A review of a work such as this should not focus on whether the performance was "good" or "bad". Rather, it should ask the question, "Did the performance make the viewer think?" I would say the answer is a definite yes. The meaning that we draw from this work is personal to each of us, and should not be dictated. Perhaps the best compliment we can pay to Tom Brady is that he allows his audience to become co-creators as they discover his work and develop their own meanings.
For more information about Annonyarts and its consortium of artists, call 314-652-3003, or visit their website at www.satori3003.net.
Monday, September 27, 2010
Thursday, September 23, 2010
Russians in the Heartland
Recently the St. Louis Symphony kicked off its 2010-2011 season with an all-Russian program, marking the inauguration of its season-long Russian Festival. The selections consisted of the rarely-heard Symphony No. 1 in G minor by Vasily Kalinnikov (1894-95), the Lieutenant Kije Symphonic Suite by Sergei Prokofiev (1934) and the Violin Concerto of Peter Ilyich Tchaikovsky (1878), with Joshua Bell as soloist. Music Director David Robertson conducted.
This concert was not only a pleasure to the ears, but was educational as well. Although I had studied a bit of the Russian language in school (amazingly, it's not nearly as difficult as you might think), had read several novels and stories by Russian authors, and had waded through a bit of Russian history, hearing so much Russian music all at once made me stop and reflect on what this people has endured across the centuries. Invasions, repressive monarchical regimes, disease, revolution, excesses of the communist era--all are part of what this people has borne. How many people realize that the Russian death toll in World War II was as high as 22,000,000? Yet through it all their musicians have performed brilliantly, and their composers have produced beautiful music that breathes melody in and out, right to the present day.
Perhaps what struck me most of all as I listened was the sheer melodic quality of the music. Every piece we heard, although rhythmic and often gymnastic, still sported singable, haunting melodies that we all carried home resonating in our ears.
Even now I find myself recalling the opening themes of the symphony by Kalinnikov. His short life of less than thirty-five years (1866-1901) was a constant struggle with poverty and poor health, but his music is heroic, ebullient and free. His work is a reminder that greatness can overcome all obstacles.
The suite from Lieutenant Kije, based upon a comic movie about soldiers creating an imaginary officer, reminds us that people everywhere have faced the challenges of bureaucracy, boredom and feelings of powerlessness. Prokofiev's imaginative and sparkling score, however, transforms the mundane world into something much more magical.
The Tchaikovsky Violin Concerto needs no introduction to aficionadoes. It is filled with dizzying leaps and bounds, peaks as high as Everest, careening slides on the violin strings--but also with introspection and pathos. Joshua Bell is a supreme virtuoso. We often speak of a musical instrument working almost as an extension of a master performer's body, but Bell took this image to a new height; it was virtually impossible to tell where his arms and hands stopped and the wood and strings of the violin began. Watching a great musician is like watching the greatest of athletes.
The physical location of Russia is thousands of miles from the American Midwest. Yet on this September night Russia seemed to have opened its heart and soul in St. Louis.
Thanks for reading.
Gary
This concert was not only a pleasure to the ears, but was educational as well. Although I had studied a bit of the Russian language in school (amazingly, it's not nearly as difficult as you might think), had read several novels and stories by Russian authors, and had waded through a bit of Russian history, hearing so much Russian music all at once made me stop and reflect on what this people has endured across the centuries. Invasions, repressive monarchical regimes, disease, revolution, excesses of the communist era--all are part of what this people has borne. How many people realize that the Russian death toll in World War II was as high as 22,000,000? Yet through it all their musicians have performed brilliantly, and their composers have produced beautiful music that breathes melody in and out, right to the present day.
Perhaps what struck me most of all as I listened was the sheer melodic quality of the music. Every piece we heard, although rhythmic and often gymnastic, still sported singable, haunting melodies that we all carried home resonating in our ears.
Even now I find myself recalling the opening themes of the symphony by Kalinnikov. His short life of less than thirty-five years (1866-1901) was a constant struggle with poverty and poor health, but his music is heroic, ebullient and free. His work is a reminder that greatness can overcome all obstacles.
The suite from Lieutenant Kije, based upon a comic movie about soldiers creating an imaginary officer, reminds us that people everywhere have faced the challenges of bureaucracy, boredom and feelings of powerlessness. Prokofiev's imaginative and sparkling score, however, transforms the mundane world into something much more magical.
The Tchaikovsky Violin Concerto needs no introduction to aficionadoes. It is filled with dizzying leaps and bounds, peaks as high as Everest, careening slides on the violin strings--but also with introspection and pathos. Joshua Bell is a supreme virtuoso. We often speak of a musical instrument working almost as an extension of a master performer's body, but Bell took this image to a new height; it was virtually impossible to tell where his arms and hands stopped and the wood and strings of the violin began. Watching a great musician is like watching the greatest of athletes.
The physical location of Russia is thousands of miles from the American Midwest. Yet on this September night Russia seemed to have opened its heart and soul in St. Louis.
Thanks for reading.
Gary
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