Red, Yellow, and Blue Around The World

“Red, Yellow, and Blue Around The World”

Barnett Newman

Who's Afraid of Red, Yellow, and Blue IV, 1969-1970

Oil on canvas 

Who's Afraid of Red, Yellow and Blue is a series of four large-scale paintings by Barnett Newman painted between 1966 and 1970. “The three primary colors have been an expression for a universal consciousness of time since the Dutch De Stijl movement of the 1920’s”. De Stijl, a Dutch artist movement, was founded in 1917 in Leiden, Netherlands. The artists of this movement were known to simplify visual compositions to vertical and horizontal, and they also chose to limit the use of color to only black, white, red, blue and yellow.

It seems as though great art is always connected with great craft, the ability to make something skillfully. 

But yes, I am that person that has gone through contemporary art museums saying to myself “well I can draw that and so can a 3 year old child”. I am that person that walks right past the art that is perhaps worth more than my college tuition (or much more). But today I tried not to do that. I looked at paintings of squares and small doodles and waited for my soul to respond! 

So how can some people sit and look at paintings of 3 primary colors for hours on end? This had reminded me of The Darwinian Theory of Beauty (which I had written a paper on during John Keller’s Global Theater class). For those of you unfamiliar with this theory, it is essentially a concept in which the idea of beauty is core part of human nature with deep evolutionary origins. I had spent many hours wondering how Dennis Dutton’s theory could be justified and considered accurate when the things humans call beautiful are so different? Humans have a wide variety of what we consider to be beautiful. This ranges from art, natural landscapes to human actions. Dennis Dutton makes a compelling case that although there are differences among the arts, there are also universal, and cross cultural, aesthetic pleasures and values that modern humans share. 

Here I have attached the link to the TED talk Dennis Dutton presented in 2010 (its worth your time, trust me) 

https://www.ted.com/talks/denis_dutton_a_darwinian_theory_of_beauty/up-next

A universal trait is that humans see BEYOND the skill; we see what it takes to do the activity. We value effort, persistence, and meticulous workmanship. I have learned that most contemporary art is made with “very low level of skill and very high levels of analyzing it to death... Abstract takes no less skill than photo-realistic. And only that executed with tremendous skill carries the potency and power” (Doug Garnett). I had found this quote deep in a reddit thread but I think it conveys what I am trying to say very well. 

After spending time looking through the pictures I had taken in front of the art when I arrived back at the hostel, I found an appreciation of the art. I became frustrated with myself that I had not seen the beauty in the painting prior. I was that silly tourist mocking the art while wearing a green fanny pack and even more embarrassing, socks with Birkenstocks. By reading on the legacy and importance of Barnett Newman's work, I no longer see the painting simply as the colors red, blue, and yellow. Now is see the large canvas as something which took persistence. Similar to Dutton's argument in the TED talk, maybe I find beauty within effort. This painting has the power to evoke emotion, just like any other sculpture, painting, etc that we have seen in other museums. Maybe I will no longer be the person who quickly runs through contemporary/ abstract art exhibits because I ‘don’t find it impressive enough’. Sometimes you just need to take a step back to take it all in. 

Happy in Berlin?

When you look at paintings what do you see? 

Do you find the beauty? 

Do you search for the reason that it was created?

Do you look for meaning?

 

When I look at a painting I wonder if the painter hated it. 

Did they notice one line that's out of place?

Did they think the hue was off? 

Did they beat themselves up over it?

When I look at actors, directors, designers, etc. I question if they like their work. How many of the actors we have seen hated their acting? What directors wish they had done a better job? Which costume designers wish they had picked a more breathable fabric? 

I beat myself up about almost everything I do. I have depression, it's not something I hide as talking about it not only helps me but I know it helps others like me. When I look at art I can see the beauty but that's not what I want to find. I'm craving artists like me. 

I like looking at the Wanderlust and wondering if the painter was melancholy at home. I wonder if someone in Der Die Man is compensating for their unhappiness by making others laugh. I'm not here for joy or beauty; I am here for a connection to the real vulnerability of humanity.

Today my mother asked me if the art I have experienced here has made me happy and I couldn't really come up with an answer; not because of my depression but because with this trip that's simply not what I have been looking for. 

Wandering through Berlin

The Wanderlust exhibit was filled with eye-catching landscapes of our beautiful world. The artists were very articulate in capturing all of the emotions resulting in gazing at vast landscapes such as this. The "Wanderer above the Sea of Fog", besides depicting Christopher's doppelganger, allows viewers to immerse themselves into the artist's world. The fog weaves through the mountaintops, like people moving through a city. You can imagine yourself as a wanderer every day.

I could not stop staring at these paintings. I could easily sit in that exhibit for a whole day. As a photographer, I tend to take A LOT of photos of landscapes, which makes me appreciate these works of art even more. I'd love to paint something as breathtaking as this, but I'm left with my camera and my eyes. I hope everyone can use their eyes and recognize things you wouldn't usually look for in Berlin. Whether it's appreciating the architecture of the buildings you enter or the facial expressions of the actors in the shows (because you can't understand German), you should take time to connect with the city.  

As travelers we trek through uncharted territories of our own. Lucky for us, Berlin is a large enough city that we will never see all of it (at least in this trip). Remote Mitte helped in breaking our boundaries and getting comfortable with the city. We are presented with a new “playground” to run around in. Spend time finding your place or purpose in Berlin.

I will be sure to upload my favorite photos before leaving…

Part of The Spree

My first time abroad. There is excitement, nerves, uncertainty -- to say the least. An immense amount of pressure to continually do, do, do. To have some sort of baptism from the continual existential crisis I forever live in. "This theatre will change me." "This city will re-ignite a fervor in me." "I will have an experience." This plethora of thoughts floods my mind, and I am overwhelmed. Jet lagged. Irritated. Continuing to live in questions, but forever holding onto the hope that I will have the golden experience. That one moment where I feel changed. And so, I wait...

and wait...

...and wait...

...

.  .  .   .   .      .     .

and wait.

...and w a i          t.                                           

Nada.

This sketch above, a view from a part of The Spree in which I sat for quite some time, is the moment in which I realized I need to let all of this longing go. It has been from this moment on that I have found solace with my wandering, compulsive, mind. The experiences -- good, bad, irritating, hilarious, sad -- they are right in front of me. Slowing down, being here with ease and grace, the moments pulsate through me. I say all of this with having learnt a huge lesson: the most precious and impactful of experiences have been the times in which everything was so simple. Thus far, it has not been at a museum, a monument, a theatrical piece, etc. -- it has been me sitting by The Spree (next to two wonderful woman feeding the birds their bananas). Much of this trip, for me, has felt like the opportunity to put a pause on the woes of life and really start to slow the fuck down. I really look forward to finding more of these moments...

This trip was always intended as a conversation, not a tour. A conversation with (first and foremost) the work, then with each other, then those with whom we interact and finally the city itself. It's why I asked each group to read the book. Not as some empty academic exercise (with a not so academic book) — busy reading — but I wanted you to use it as a way to see that at some point all stories converge. 

We are here to experience, dislocate, reassess and experience and repeat. All things build on what follows if you pay attention — sometimes intended — sometimes fortuitous — sometimes dissonant — sometimes a failed experiment. 

Our 2018 works so far are some of the most diverse and least concrete of the performances/productions I have seen in all the years I've come here. Why is that? Why so much variety and instability? I think it is in no little part attributable to the fact that you all have arrived in a city in the throes of institutional and aesthetic change. The cultural landscape has shifted — is shifting. This is a great moment to be here because they — the theater-makers AND the audiences — are trying to find themselves. I see it so clearly in all the new work and the strange unsteadiness in the older, existing works. All you had to do was sit in the echoing emptiness that was Volksbühne right before WOMEN IN TROUBLE began to know that something big — something odd — is going on. Don't you feel it even in the heat?

Weibke Nonne as Schaubühne and Shahrzad Rahmani like to call this the most exclusive, private, little known theatre festival in the world. The temptation might be to expect that this would be definitive anthology of German Theater (Theatertreffen acknowledges the futility of that even while trying to make the attempt.) I would never do that. I couldn't do that. One, it's not my style. And, two, it would be impossible. It's a curated snapshot of a very interesting moment in German and perhaps, by extension, Western theater.

OUR FIRST FIVE DAYS

THE BERLIN 2018 CREW (MINUS TWO)

SCHULTÜTE 2018

THE BARBER OF SEVILLE at Komische Oper

MUSEUM ISLAND

REMOTE MITTE

REMOTE MITTE

CLÄRCHEN BALLHAUS

BERLIN ON BIKE

BERLIN ON BIKE

SHAKESPEARE'S LAST PLAY at Schaubühne

THE BODE MUSEUM

Sasha Waltz's ALLEE DER KOSMONAUTEN at Radialsystem V

CHARLOTTENBURG PALACE

THE BERGRUEN MUSEUM

FOREIGN BODY by Clébio Oliveira at Uferstudios 

U.S Theatre has a long way to go

I meant to write this so much earlier but alas, the craziness of summer has swiftly washed away to bring us into the new school year.

"How was your summer?" "How was your trip?" "Tell me all about it!"
All questions and statements of well-meaning friends and loved ones expecting me to be able to express in simple sentences how my time in Berlin changed the way I view theatre and the people/world around me. In short, I can't. Nor do I really want to. Of course I shared my favorite parts and explained a million times that after the first few shows in German you really don't need to understand the language because human emotion in universal (how deep, right?)

Not long after returning to the U.S. I was stage managing a show in NY. I went in to it with this new, positive, [dare I say] enlightened point of view, excited to share and use some of the concepts and personal ideas gained from Berlin theatre.
One week in, I was absolutely crushed.
Two weeks in, I was ready to quit. Not just the show, but stage management all together. I've never been so rattled, physically and emotionally drained, and betrayed by the career I thought I loved. overdramatic? Maybe. At the time though, I was one step from the ledge.
Two weeks and one day in, the director and producer decide they want me to go with them to the EdinburghFringe Festival in Scotland. With an all expenses paid trip to Scotland looming in my future I sucked it up. I would be an IDIOT to say no to that. I cried every night after making the decision to stick it out. Every night including the night I boarded at JFK. Is it really worth it?
Four weeks in, I'm enjoying a shared plate of haggis nachos in Europe with actors I've grown to love.
I'm rambling. Let me get to the point. The details of why I had such a negative experience are irrelevant. After coming from such a positive experience in Berlin to an astounding low I think my brain was yo-yoing into knots.
The idea of fantasy versus reality and the illusion of a created world on stage, separate of the audience is now a dark, outdated concept to me.
Long story short, I'm glad I stuck it out. I'm proud of myself. Scotland was rad and the Fringe was badass. I'm very lucky.

Christopher - lets talk about this when we find some time. I'd like to tell you the details and maybe come up with a plan before my next SM endeavor.

There is still no freedom in U.S. Theatre.