The first night we got here
Christopher asked each of us why we were here. I told everyone that this past
year the acting program at Rutgers has not only been teaching me about acting,
but also about art. I have been inspired to find more artistry in myself. I
told everyone that I am in Berlin to be inspired. My reason for being here has
been met and surpassed. I am finding so much inspiration here and it’s making
me fall in love with this city a little bit more every day.
On Thursday we went to the Nationalgalerie on Museumsinsel (Museum Island). Before we went into the gallery
Christopher talked to us a bit about the transition from 18th
century Neo-Classicism to 19th century Romanticism. One of the words
that stuck out to me towards the end of his spiel, he used the phrase “Ein Fulong,”
(not spelled correctly here) which means a
feeling, and where we later got the word empathy.
We walked
through the first floor gallery of 19th century paintings and they
were gorgeous. Then we went to the third floor and they were even more
gorgeous. The idealized, lush landscapes, the beautiful use of color, the
depictions of every day people with real, human emotions. I didn’t know visual
art could be so moving. I’ve never cried at a painting before, but, alas, it
happened. As I was quickly skimming the paintings and taking as many pictures
as I could to try and take it all in before we had to go, my breath was taken
away by one painting in particular entitled Heimkehr
des Palikaren (Palikare Returns Home)
by Eduard Magnus in 1836. It is a simple picture of a father returning home to
his family. He is holding a new baby, and his two other kids are at his feet,
and his wife is by his side. They are all so happy, and there is such a deep
love that was captured so magnificently by the painter. It was unexpected,
surprising, breath-taking, my first experience crying at a painting. I never
thought that would happen. It was “Ein Fulong.” It makes me so proud to be an
artist.
Berliners
seems to get art in quite a particular way, and in quite a different way than
Americans. Just walking around the city we’ll see buildings with expansive
street art on the walls, and extraordinary graffiti in unexpected places. It’s
as if Berlin is busting at the seams with a creative spirit that it just spills
onto the streets. (It inspired one of my Instagram posts).
While I am
being inspired every day, I am also getting a bit more blue about the state of
the art in the States. I just want to do this kind of art and be a part of this
kind of work where no one gives any apologies. It saddens me that Americans
don’t get it. The shows we’ve seen so far have had some extraordinary material
and subject matter, and it was as if the Berliners didn’t bat an eye, and in
fact appreciated and applauded the actors and production for their bravery.
That’s what I want theatre to be – a voice for the people’s collective consciousness.
To affect change. And that’s what I feel like it is here. Not a frozen museum piece. If those plays were
played in the States, I feel like Americans would scream, huff and puff, write
letters, and be personally offended.
NEVERTHELESS,
I am still inspired. And perhaps it is someone like me and the wonderful
artists I’m here with to go back and change the state of affairs. I’m ready to
work.
You did pretty well with the spelling. You're getting to know your German. It's einfühlung.
ReplyDeleteRobert Vischer (a 19th century German philosopher first used the word in reference to something akin to aesthetic sympathy. Vischer’s use of the word "einfühlung" has been translated as “in-feeling” or “feeling-into.” He used the word in his doctoral thesis (On the Optical Sense of Form: A Contribution to Aesthetics—1873). The phrase "sich einfühlen" was used by Johann Herder in the 18th century. But Vischer's use of the word was translated into English as "empathy" — a relatively new word!