The Michigan Daily — michigandaily.com
Arts
Wednesday, March 24, 2021 — 5
French composer Claude Debussy
undoubtedly remains at the forefront
of impressionism in music. He may
have denied it, shrugging off the
movement as a mere label, but as of
today, he’s the first to come up in a
quick Googling of the musical genre.
The next to come up in the search,
other than “La Mer,” “Clair de Lune”
and a few of his other staples, might be
his Préludes. Capped at a few minutes
apiece, these bite-sized works for
piano are perfect for anyone new to
his works. However, the Préludes are
not solely for the unfamiliar, as they
can be calming delicacies to frequent
listeners of Debussy as well. To a
performer especially, these pieces
offer a range of emotional possibilities;
each piece, like a character sketch in
an artist’s sketchbook, has a distinct
essence and spirit to explore.
Last Sunday, saxophonist Andrew
Rathbun and pianist Matthew Fries
brought Impressions of Debussy
(Rathbun’s latest album) and a
jazz tribute to the Préludes to the
Kerrytown Concert House stage. The
venue welcomed Rathbun and Fries
as part of their weekly live stream,
“Live @ The 415.” The month of
March marks one year since the series
first aired, and since then, the venue
has consistently been offering free
virtual concerts to the public. The
venue’s move to online streaming has
played a role in keeping Ann Arbor’s
music scene alive. From the music of
cabaret to the sonatas of Beethoven,
“Live @ The 415” continues to bring
a wide selection of performers to Ann
Arbor.
The virtual concert opened with
a recent composition by Fries, titled
“Quarantine” — a nod to this past
year. Despite its name, as Rathbun
later pointed out to the audience, the
piece carried a “slight air of optimism”
with its lively rhythms and flourishes.
Though written back in September,
the composition was a perfect fit for
last weekend, depicting a world more
hopeful for the end of quarantine.
With a brief cut in the live stream’s
audio, the piece’s namesake was a
gentle reminder that of course, it
wouldn’t be quarantine without the
technical difficulties.
The program continued with
works from Debussy’s Préludes for
solo piano, reimagined by Rathbun
in a jazzy saxophone and piano duet.
Drawing from Debussy’s signature
color palette, Rathbun interpreted
the Prélude No. 10 “Canope” with
a similar sentiment as the original,
while emitting a much livelier feeling.
Debussy’s “Canope” had hints of the
delicate and the ethereal, whereas
Rathbun’s
interpretation
seemed
more grounded in its elements.
Similarly, his reimagining of the
Préludes’s “Girl with the Flaxen
Hair” and “Footsteps in the Snow”
brought an earthiness to the originals
— a color of voice that is absent in
Debussy’s instrumentation and only
available through the introduction
of a second voice by way of the
saxophone. By arranging Debussy’s
Préludes
for
two
instruments
rather than one, Rathbun has
made an interpretation tinged with
optimism. The pianist of Debussy’s
préludes is no longer alone, and
while Rathbun’s version may have
lost the striking solitary quality of
Debussy’s original, it also brought a
sense of companionship to Debussy’s
lonely tunes. As a newcomer to jazz,
I entered the concert unsure of what
a jazz-classical crossover would
look like, especially in a virtual
setting. However, through Fries and
Rathbun’s performance, I was able to
appreciate the liveliness that a hint of
improvisation brings.
Ending
the
program
with
“Half Nelson” by Miles Davis, the
performers departed from Debussy
and let loose into the upbeat rhythms
of bebop. This tune was lighthearted
and served as a swift final display of
virtuosity from Fries and Rathbun.
While distinct from the mellow
qualities of the previous pieces, the
finale was far from abrupt. Rather,
it seemed that every part of their
performance — from the original
works of Fries to Rathbun’s Préludes
to the ending bebop — was produced
from the same lens.
Last week, “Michigan’s Got Talent:
A Talent Show Celebrating Diversity,
Equity, and Inclusion in the Arts!”
premiered on YouTube. The pre-
recorded talent show was curated and
presented by Music Matters, a non-
profit student organization that uses
music to advocate for social causes
— their most notable event being
SpringFest, an annual philanthropic
concert series.
The evening began with an
introduction by host Adam Seltzer,
University of Michigan class of 2020
alum and former Music Matters DEI
chairman.
“As an organization that’s devoted
to making a social impact in the
community,” Seltzer began, “it’s extra
important that we look internally,
inside ourselves, and think: Do we
embody the values we’re trying to put
out in the world?”
“Michigan’s
Got
Talent”
(MGT) was a program of at-home
performances; undergraduate and
graduate students broadcasted their
talents from living room couches,
bedroom desks, classrooms and
several campus locations.
Contestants performed covers
of Frank Ocean and Nina Simone,
Bandari
and
hip-hop
dance
routines, a seven-part a cappella
arrangement of Jill Scott’s “He
Loves Me” and even some original
music: a nostalgic singer-songwriter
piece, a satirical musical theater
number and some forward-thinking
rap. Between acts were brief cameos
by Martino Harmon, vice president
for student life, Claire Hao, The
Michigan Daily’s Editor in Chief and
Tiffany Porter, University alum and
two-time track and field Olympian,
all answering the question: What
does DEI mean to you?
After a quick 35 minutes, the
program came to a close, and viewers
were directed to a Google Form for
“Superlative Voting” to determine the
most unique, creative, entertaining,
impactful and most-likely-to-watch-
in-concert MGT acts. At the end of the
evening, these artists and performers
had undeniably been given a new
platform to display their work and
their passions. But was it a stage
genuinely rooted in DEI values?
While it indeed initiated a much-
needed
celebration
of
diverse,
distinctive talent on the University’s
campus, MGT fell flat in actually
addressing the DEI work under which
it was branded. Rather than energize
productive,
intentional
dialogue
surrounding the importance of DEI
on the University’s campus, MGT
hardly scratched the surface of the
issue and, in doing so, felt notably
performative.
The
whole
program
felt
unnecessarily rushed, such that
when Seltzer announced, “Wow, that
was such an awesome show,” in the
past tense, I felt startled by an abrupt
conclusion. The acts themselves
were quite brief and presented in
an oddly nonuniform way. Most
acts were just over a minute long,
although a select few were closer to
three or four minutes. Some students
took time to introduce themselves
and their talent, others didn’t. Some
gave written introductions, but their
words were displayed quickly, giving
us hardly enough time to read and
get acquainted with the artist. Such
inconsistent, hurried presentations
of the acts were a shame, not only
because the acts themselves were
impressive and entertaining, but also
because it felt at odds with Music
Matters’s goal of equity.
To the viewer, watching MGT felt
like being whisked through a museum
filled with gorgeous art, without time
to appreciate each individual piece.
Considering that it was a pre-edited
event, this was probably avoidable.
Maybe the brevity of the program
was purposeful, its fast pace intended
to capture and hold the attention of an
audience situated within the digital
age. Yet, whether or not this was
the case, the show felt like a cursory
glance-over, when DEI itself is deep,
long-term work.
If MGT’s goal was to honor
these artists and their talents, to
create space for what they have
to offer, why rush them? Instead,
they might have given acts more
generous performance windows,
more time to explain who they are
and why their music matters, and
perhaps even why DEI is important
to them. By not fully engaging with
their acts, MGT risked putting
their contestants up for display, like
colleges
frantically
proclaiming
their
diversity
initiatives
with
pictures of token minority students
on admissions pamphlets.
MGT also lacked a crucial
component:
an
intentional
definition of its titular DEI principle.
MGT asked, “What does DEI mean
to you?” when most Americans
haven’t yet asked, “What does DEI
mean?” Without an answer to the
latter, more fundamental question,
any answer to the former is nearly
meaningless.
Harmon said, “Diversity, Equity
and Inclusion is truly achieved when
it’s infused in everyday life, when it’s
a part of who we are, when we don’t
have to specifically call it out, because
we know it, it’s how we live.” Although
he speaks of a beautiful sentiment, the
meaning of his statement evaporates
to any audience member who isn’t
really sure what “it” is.
In her cameo, Porter, an alum and
Olympian, gave the closest thing to
a definition of DEI. She made the
distinction between inclusion, which
means “to give people opportunities
to have a seat at the table,” and equity,
which aims “to allow people to have a
level playing field.”
If it weren’t for Porter, Music
Matters would have left DEI fully
nebulous and undefined. But even
then,
Porter’s
partial
definition
came in the last ten minutes of the
show, after viewers had already been
“celebrating” undefined DEI for 25
minutes. As a result, the audience
received the message that “DEI
is
important!”
without
actually
engaging with DEI itself.
MGT’s
hurried,
surface-level
execution
was
not
enough
to
be
considered
conscientious,
comprehensive DEI work. However,
the 227 people who tuned in live to
MGT may think it’s enough. They
might be misled to believe that this
version of activism is good enough,
that this is a place to settle in their
own individual DEI work, or even
that, by tuning in, they’ve taken
action. Music Matters had a real
opportunity to lead by example,
to show what it looks like to truly
engage in DEI work. Instead, they
perpetuated the harmful ambiguity
surrounding DEI, which so often
leads to sanctified inaction and a
sense of satisfactory performative
action.
However,
Music
Matters
is
vocal about its commitment to
positive change. The group even
recognizes the long-term nature of
true DEI work and the importance
of “collectively recognizing and
embracing this challenge rather
than avoiding it.” It is important
that we invite Music Matters to
pursue their DEI goals, but not
without holding them accountable
for surface-level performativity and
challenging them to make sincere,
deep-seated change.
So, let’s return to Seltzer’s initial
question: Do we embody the values
we put out into the world? In the
case of “Michigan’s Got Talent,” the
answer Music Matters is looking for
is no.
But can they? And will they in
the future? Yes, they can, with our
support.
Like most kids born at the start of
the millennium, video games acted as
my live-in nanny. I learned to read with
a clunky old LeapPad tablet, which, if
I still had today, would be caked in a
sticky goo that always seems to exist
on the grubby hands of toddlers. I
honed my hand-eye coordination as I
internalized crushing defeat by Matt,
the overpowered CPU in “Wii Sports.”
I spent hours in the school computer
lab serving customers in the food-
service simulator “Papa’s Pizzeria.”
My idle mind never went very far as
long as I could beat my Rainbow Road
record on “Mario Kart” or speedrun
an island of “Poptropica.”
I can’t help but imagine how
things would have been different
if my brain’s development was
supplemented with today’s video
games, more specifically, the crowd-
pleasing cultural phenomenon that is
“Fortnite.” Fortnite is a first-person
shooter with a sparkly, cartoonish
twist, but it is also a concert venue,
a chat room, a battle-royale stadium
and
its
very
own
multiverse.
Somehow, under layers of whimsical
depictions of violence, fantastical
costumes and a detailed map is a
nexus of pop culture.
I’ve been trying to figure out how
a game like Fortnite is able to have
such a tight grasp on entertainment
industry giants since its earliest
collaboration
deals
were
made.
The idea that the same game that
programmed a TikTok dance to The
Weeknd’s “Blinding Lights” into its
character emotes has creative liberties
with parts of the John Wick franchise
is bizarre, if not borderline dystopian.
Maybe I am too cynical to
recognize that not every game is
designed to my taste — to me, Fortnite
is a place for kids to scream at each
other from across the world and force
virtual Keanu Reeves to floss. Alas,
as much as it hurts, it’s important to
recognize Fortnite for what it is: a
monumental asset to both the gaming
industry and the world of pop culture.
Fortnite is the accumulation of
everything gaming has managed
to improve upon in the last two
decades. Cross-platform play, like
that of “Minecraft’s” Xbox, Pocket
Edition and PC versions, offers
accessibility across players. Wireless
communication popularized by the
likes of “Call of Duty” and “Roblox”
adds another level of stimulation
and interactivity for children and
teens alike.
Fortnite takes advantage of both
of these qualities and adds the third,
most important element to the bunch:
in-game purchases. Any regular
person can play Fortnite, but the
way to show prestige and expertise
is with the trappings of professional,
purchased costumes and dances with
freshly minted V-bucks. In 2019, these
microtransactions added $1.8 billion
to Epic Games’s revenue.
And Fortnite’s player base did
not materialize out of thin air — its
popularity has exploded in recent
years, and this has only been
accelerated by the pandemic. As
a result of strict social-distancing
policies, playing “Fortnite” over voice
or video chat with school buddies
may very well be the most stimulating
form of social interaction available
to most e-kids. For a parent to deny
their children these lifelines could be
seen as unfair, even cruel, especially
considering that the game itself is free
(excluding in-application purchases).
Thus, the nature of Fortnite’s
success is really not enigmatic at all.
What was already a wildly popular
game is now bolstered by such a high
increase in demand that, for kids
deprived of crucial social stimulation,
Fortnite is somewhat of a necessity.
Where the majority of kids with their
parents’ credit cards go, businesses
will follow, allowing “Fortnite” to
create a metaverse of intellectual
properties that could be the first of its
kind.
Upon
examination
of
every
cultural medium that Fortnite ties
together, from the NFL to popular
DJs Marshmello and Major Lazer,
TV shows like “The Walking Dead”
and a wide collection of films, I find
it almost reassuring that the game is
able to introduce younger audiences to
different forms of art and pop culture.
With so many brands eager to
wedge themselves into Fortnite, Epic
Games may be on its way to turning
the game into an overstimulating
post-capitalist hellscape. However,
the game could be worse. At the very
least, it keeps pop culture relics that
are at risk of fading into irrelevance
at the forefront of the video game
industry. The possibility that Fortnite
could be a kid’s first introduction
to Sigourney Weaver’s character
in “Alien” and the “Terminator”
franchise is pretty strange, but at
least it’s something.
Of course, like anything fun and
stimulating, playing the game comes
with a risk — disillusioned parents
have complained of crippling Fortnite
addictions affecting their children.
Maybe we will see a future where
Fortnite does more harm than good,
but right now, it’s a momentous force
that’s worth keeping an eye on.
As many of you probably don’t
know, I am a loyal watcher of the
Emmy Award-winning, Friday-night
making, reality TV show “RuPaul’s
Drag Race.” I mostly tune in to the
show every Friday night because the
lip syncs and fashion are iconic, but
also because an emotional backstory
is my reality-TV kryptonite.
Do I know anything about how to
perform in drag? No. Did I once think
that lip liner was a form of sharpie?
Yes. But I am nevertheless entranced
by the technical skills the queens
bring to the stage, so I keep coming
back.
I say this because “Heartened
Surfaces: The 2021 MFA Thesis
Exhibition” and I have a similar
relationship. I may not understand
the complex nuance each artist
brought to their projects. Yet it
was still as thrilling to witness as
“Drag Race.” Having the chance
to go to an in-person gallery was
the cherry on top for an exhibit
that had almost everything I would
typically look for — a little drama
here, some camp there and a lot of
artistry.
So now I will delve into my tops
and bottoms for the gallery, and
just like the first half of season 13 of
“Drag Race” — there are no losers,
only winners, baby. So say “love” and
start your engines for this review of
“Heartened Surfaces.”
At the top this week are Christine
Bruening’s “Permeable Bodies” and
Rey Jeong’s “Screaming Yellow.”
Bruening’s
“Permeable
Bodies”
explores the intersection of the
horror aesthetic and the artist’s own
experience of fear and trauma. The
artist’s body of work captures the
camp nature of horror to the tee,
using the broad strokes of the horror
aesthetic as a foreground for her own
experience.
“Frankenstein and the Doctor,”
also by Bruening, was one of my
favorite pieces; it juxtaposes the
artist’s fear of pregnancy with
the discomfort of a “party-city”
Frankenstein
headpiece
and
cartoony green body paint, perfectly
highlighting the innate discomfort of
horror.
This collection had high drama
and a strong viewpoint to back it up,
making Bruening my top toot (aka
favorite artist) of the exhibit.
Jeong’s “Screaming Yellow,” a
social sculpture that talks about the
experience of the Global Majority,
also had its form of high drama
in the form of a decked-out neon
yellow truck. Yes, a real-life truck
that looks like it just came out of “Jay
Leno’s Garage.” It was definitely
the centerpiece of the exhibition,
catching my eye from the get-go.
Jeong’s work felt immersive
and full of color. The use of LED
and neon lights highlighted the
artificiality of the truck’s purpose
as a fake grassroots campaign for an
imaginary politician. This political
motif offered a structure for the
social sculpture, providing a literal
platform for participants in Jeong’s
work to express their emotions and
voices through conversations, poetry
and personal stories.
Unfortunately, along with my
tops, I also have my bottoms of the
week. Nathan Bryne’s “Equally
Empty” lacked the payoff I had
hoped for. Based on a graphite
drawing by Dean Smith, Bryne’s
piece was an immersive spatial
encounter that used a soundscape
by Emmerich Anklam, who is also
known as Distant Reader, and
Smith’s drawing as a foundation plan.
Bryne’s installation felt magnetic at
the center, the sound design along
with the beautiful metalwork that
accented the dark space bringing
out the beauty in the still air. But as
I began to move to the outer shell
of the installation, it quickly lost its
appeal. The piece needed to carry the
energy to the ends of the installation,
yet after that stunning center, the
meandering wooden fences felt lost
and tired.
The winner for the gallery
challenge has to be Christine
Bruening. Her work spoke to me the
most out of all the pieces and made
me want to find more on Bruening’s
website.
And the loser: YOU! Because
you haven’t already gone to see it.
Located at the Stamps Gallery in Ann
Arbor, Mich., this gallery’s artists
are giving me life, at least until next
Friday’s episode of Drag Race.
Kerrytown Concert House brings jazz to Debussy and quarantine
Fortnite may be the biggest game ever
The Pit Stop for Heartened Surfaces: The
2021 MFA Thesis Exhibition
PRISCILLA KIM
For The Daily
GIGI GUIDA
For The Daily
LAINE BROTHERTON
Daily Arts Writer
MATTHEW EGGERS
Daily Arts Writer
Gage Skidmore
Kerrytown Concert House
Michigan’s Got Talent falls flat at promoting DEI
Design by Caitlin Martens