Integral Education: The CIIS Blog

Risk for Reward

By ELLIOT WEISS

This post was written as an assignment for Professor Cindy Shearer’s CIA 7091: MFA Interdisciplinary Arts Workshop. As part of a community of artists working across art perspectives, students in this course get the chance to present their work and teach each other about their art form(s), practice, lineage and influences, and are challenged to inquire into the interdisciplinary arts as well as forms new to them.

This is a blog about Risk for Reward. This was an assignment for class; however, its importance is far reaching. In my case, taking advantage of the opportunity presented by a risk when I was in my late 20s gave me confidence in myself and belief in my art (poetry). The risk of performing at an open mic and taking that risk (with help) was the starting point of my life as an artist. The confidence I gained from that event is part of my being today. I can always recall this event whenever I feel any self-doubt.

As a young teen I read a weekly newspaper, The Village Voice. In addition to the abundant music and arts section, the Voice also published an article that helped the Weiss clan win the war with roaches. The article explained how boric acid was the answer as it sent both the roaches and their offspring to the Roach Motels Burial Grounds. We had a roach colony that you would see covering the kitchen table during the night. Also in the Voice was an ad posted religiously about the Back Fence. The Back Fence, located on Bleeker Street in Greenwich Village promoted musical acts and an open mic every Sunday afternoon. Odetta, Bob Dylan, and Richie Havens are a few of the artists that performed at the Back Fence. As a teen I day dreamed about performing. I would listen to music, particularly Doo Wop, and imagine that I was singing onstage with the group.

In 1982 I wrote my first poem, “Junky.” I asked a friend to read it and his reaction was positive (Risk for Reward Pt.1.) Then I remembered the ad for the Back Fence. One Sunday I put the folded up poem in my inside jacket pocket with no intentions of reading it and headed down to the Village. While I was sitting and waiting for the open mic to begin a woman came in and sat next to me, and we introduced ourselves. Her name was Lorraine Galiper. She was originally from the Caribbean and living and working as a teacher in Spanish Harlem. She also had a young daughter still residing in the Caribbean with her mother. Lorraine asked me if I was going to read and I said that I wasn’t. I asked her if she was reading and she told me that she was the featured poet. This meant that she had 15 minutes as the feature.

While we were talking I took a risk and asked her if she wouldn’t mind reading my poem (Risk for Reward Pt.2). "Sure, I’ll read it,” she said, and I took it out of my inside pocket and handed it to her. She liked it, said it was intense, and urged me to get up and read it when the emcee called for volunteers. I said that I wasn’t sure. The open mic began with a few poets reading their poems, then Lorraine took the stage. She read for 15 minutes, and when she came off the stage she asked me what I thought. I told her that I had a clear picture of her home in the Caribbean and of her separation from her daughter.                                                                                   

Risk for reward part 3: Remember that Lorraine and I were sitting side by side? The emcee asked if there was anyone else that would like to read, and the next thing I knew, my hand was up in the air with Lorraine’s hand on top of mine. We smiled and were laughing with each other—and I took the risk. It was great. The audience responded strongly, and taking this Risk for Reward jumpstarted my involvement as an artist/performance poet/writer/actor/bass guitarist, and eventually, as an MFA Student at CIIS. Lorraine and I had a supportive relationship for a while. I retell this story in my one man show and dedicate an original poem, “Your Smile,” to Lorraine. 

The Dangerous and Painful

By CREATRIX TIARA

This post was written as an assignment for Professor Cindy Shearer’s CIA 7091: MFA Interdisciplinary Arts Workshop. As part of a community of artists working across art perspectives, students in this course get the chance to present their work and teach each other about their art form(s), practice, lineage and influences, and are challenged to inquire into the interdisciplinary arts as well as forms new to them.

How do I say what’s dangerous without adding to the pain of those already harmed?

This is a question that is coming up more and more frequently for me, as my performance and writing work are strongly centered around “the personal is political," exploring the issues related to being a queer female migrant minority. Yet that same complicated multi-axis identity makes my politics more complex - and not something that easily fits party lines.

Like many other artists from minority backgrounds, I am often considered to be a "spokesperson" for my culture or other minority groups even when I do not deliberately choose this role. My opinions and stories are taken to be representative of the groups I am assumed to be affiliated with (not always the groups I actually identify with,) instead of the nuanced complex narratives that they are. People often read their preconceptions into my work—noticing an accent that isn’t there, assuming influences I have never heard of, creating political statements I do not always sign onto. I am no longer Creatrix Tiara; I am that Queer South Asian, or I am that Third-Wave Feminist, or (more commonly) I am that Angry Brown Chick. Sometimes I feel like if my work was presented under a different name (perhaps something more Anglo and male, such as "John Smith") or by a different body (white, straight, normative) the reception would be greatly different: I would be complex and individual, maybe even groundbreaking—just like the various Western performance artists that receive applause for appropriating cultural artifacts from places deemed as "backwards."

At the same time I do not want to entirely divorce my background from my work. My heritage, history, and present position completely inform the direction and form of my work. I would not be content to conform to what a "normal" burlesque performer or writer or artist would do. I want to be able to bring up my inquiry about being queer, or South Asian, or an international student, or a woman, or any combination thereof in my work. I want to delve into the rich heritage vaults provided for by my predecessors and ancestors, and be a guiding light for those after me.

Comedian Dave Chappelle talks about the moment where he felt that his acts were “socially irresponsible.” His work tackled difficult race relations in the U.S. as an African-American male, but he started to notice how people were using his jokes as an excuse to laugh at people like him, rather than with him or at themselves.

Dave began thinking about the message he was sending to millions of viewers. Dave says some people understood exactly what he was trying to say with his racially charged comedy...while others got the wrong idea.

"That concerned me," he says. "I don't want black people to be disappointed in me for putting that [message] out there..It's a complete moral dilemma."

I find myself in a similar position, trying to make sense of the complexities of class, race, immigration status, gender, sexuality, and other identity axes. As it is, I have too often been let down by people whose politics I nominally agree with, but who still refuse to recognise differences of opinion or their own privilege and circumstances. “I can’t be prejudiced/bigoted! I’m a lefty/minority/just like you!”

At the same time I feel a sense of responsibility thrust upon me to represent “my people” well, especially amongst those from dominant social backgrounds (e.g. White, straight, male, non-immigrant). It shouldn’t be my fault that people don’t seem to recognise the Other as individuals with our own layers of complexity, who insist on everyone being “role models” to make them legitimate. However, that is the situation we find ourselves in right now and the best we can do is deal with it.

On Art Making

By COLLETTE McGRUDER

This video was posted as an assignment for Professor Cindy Shearer’s CIA 7091: MFA Interdisciplinary Arts Workshop. As part of a community of artists working across art perspectives, students in this course get the chance to present their work and teach each other about their art form(s), practice, lineage and influences, and are challenged to inquire into the interdisciplinary arts as well as forms new to them.

CIIS FINAL PUBLIC ON ART MAKING from collette photo on Vimeo.

En Foco/In Focus: Pipo Nguyen-Duy

By JESSICA JULIAO

This is the second in our series of interviews conducted by emerging photographers and CIIS students Jessica Juliao and Collette McGruder, featuring artists whose works are part of En Foco/In Focus. This exhibition, which opens Jan. 22, 2013, at CIIS, includes 56 images by 48 artists, selected from the permanent collection of En Foco, a New York-based non-profit dedicated to cultural diversity in photography.

Jessica spoke with artist Pipo Nguyen-Duy about his project, Assimulation, as well as immigration, identity, and falling in and out of love with the medium of photography.

Assimulation…simulation…assimilation…This play on words immediately engaged my curiousity, which only grew upon seeing Pipo Nguyen-Duy’s, "The Madonna and Child," a piece exploring the intersections of gender and race. Pipo’s determination to create a series that takes on these sensitive issues spoke volumes to me; I admire both his photographs and his will to challenge cultural assumptions. That he places himself in these carefully constructed images adds for me an element of intimacy.

Jessica Juliao:  You mentioned in a brief introduction to your work that we are living in an exciting time in photography where there are many ways of producing and exchanging an image, from iPhones, to Photoshop, etc. How much of your work is done in a purely traditional manner and how does preserving those practices in your work challenge your workflow?

Pipo Nguyen-Duy:  To tell you the truth, I am pretty fluent in digital media, but for some reason I have been holding onto film. I shoot with a 4x5 film camera currently, so my workflow does take a lot of time. It can be inconvenient at times and I have to make sure that my film does not get exposed to too much humidity when working in the tropics [Vietnam]; however, I do enjoy the magic of just waiting to see how my photographs turn out. For me, I really love that discovery, and in most cases, it’s just complete failure! You sometimes say, oh man, I wish I shot it digitally! After working in Vietnam for the past 5 months I came home and told myself that next time I will shoot it digitally, but at the same time I know that—in reality—I won’t.

JJ:  In looking over your projects I was immediately drawn into your Assimulation series for its interpretation of iconic Renaissance and Baroque paintings. You seem to provoke questions of gender and race as well as self and cultural identity. How was this process for you in terms of preparing each scene and assuming the roles of these icons yourself?

PND: I do not look at those images of myself as myself.  I just look at that person as a subject. For me to dress up as a woman there has to be a certain level of professionalism and detachment. I think about what I can do to hold an audience and how I can perform this. At the same time, that series created a lot of problems for me within my community. I remember when I came back to visit California and that series had come out, it made the front page of the Vietnamese newspaper, talking about this person bringing shame to the whole community. Dealing with subject matter like gender identity was not easily accepted. This series was about race, gender, and culture and how one adjusts to a new culture, specifically my adjustment as an Asian man to Western culture. In the "Madonna" I address the stereotype of the Asian male, almost always pictured either as a kung fu master or feminized. So for me to be a Madonna or a Medusa was just to negate that stereotype. Thinking about coming here as a Vietnamese refugee and getting dismissed by the culture and then all of a sudden to have this power to participate and to talk about the kind of issues that I was concerned with, it was an empowering experience.

JJ:  Is there a piece that you connect more with than the others from that series and why?

PND:  You know, when I think about that series it takes me back to where I was in my life. The baby I held in "The Madonna" was actually my first son, and so it is very important to me. He was only three months old when I took it. When I go back and reflect on this series, it takes me back to that specific place and time. I am reminded of what was happening for me during that series: starting my family, receiving my first grant, borrowing the traditional dress from my friend Judy, etc. That history is what makes the images special and why I connect more to one piece than another.

JJ: In speaking of your work and the level of connection you have with your images, you mentioned that it is like a relationship, finding that first interest in a subject before going forward. Can you speak more about that? Is there a specific project you produced in which the “relationship” you were forming turned into a break-up? When do you know when to move forward and when to let go?

PND: I think it is not just about the images. For me, photography has been one of those forced marriages. I mean, I fell in love and of course you are never in love for too long. Eventually you hate your partner from time to time and then you fall in love all over again. And so for me what is really magical, and what really keeps reminding me of the beauty of what we do are the stories that are connected to [our work]. It’s not just about the image, but it is also about how they are made. For example, I am much more connected to my experience of riding my motorcycle down to the countryside [in Vietnam] and working with the school children, and I remember the specificity of the location. And those things are more important than what the images look like.

A Poetic Thank You

By EUNICE WILLIAMS

This post was written for Cindy Shearer's CIA 7712: MFA Project. In these blogs, students are sharing their discoveries, reflections and learning as they enter the process of creating a body of art work and culminate their degrees.

The following is a piece I captured that seemed to want to express the appreciation and gratitude I feel about my CIIS experience, especially as it pertains to some of the faculty I’ve come in contact with over the past 4 years or so. I began in the CIIS Bachelor of Arts Completion program and am now in my last semester of graduate studies in the Creative Inquiry, Interdisciplinary Arts program. It’s been a truly amazing ride.

a look at life

I feel like I’ve been striving for graduate school my whole life. That is, my life after
I realized I had a life.

A space where I could learn to identify with that, tiny voice inside.
Never thought it would take me so long. Yet, not really long at all. I know.

It’s funny how one’s artistic development can parallel so with one’s ability to be,
whole.

In do time, right? When I was ready to receive. Able to know, Yes!

When the student fully arrives, the teacher will come.

And I bow my head in gratitude.

Teachers. Pushers. Toward where we, together, want to go. Nudging with an
assured softness.

Healthy mothers who have weathered their own storms. Learned to move
through.

Then.

Commit to help move you. Waiting with warm smile, knowing eyes, an open
hand.

Taking care.

Teachers who teach one to embrace their own stillness. The spaces in-between,
where learning can occur.

With a flash. You are awakened. By the mist of possibilities.

Deeply felt.

“if you feel it, they will too.”

feeling like little bird

flying free from coup, for a third time

I emptied myself at door

you met me at the threshold

I walked in

not afraid

because I new what love could do

I new what to look for
because I felt it before

I had a good gauge

much like a surrender

not just college

for-life university

helped me re-gather my faculties

gave me space to practice grace

face my fears in a humble way

mark my territory

learning to Master myself

full circle from purgatory

given gift to glory

share my story

be thanks

as paradigms shift underfoot

sifting realities

I saddle up

emerging

and I say,

Thank You.

To: me - From: ME

By THOMAS NEWKIRK

This post was written for Cindy Shearer's CIA 7712: MFA Project. In these blogs, students are sharing their discoveries, reflections and learning as they enter the process of creating a body of art work and culminate their degrees.

Adolescence is a time when people start to develop their own identity, part of which is a sexual identity. This process includes learning how to manage sexual feelings, arousal and attraction, developing new forms of intimacy, and learning to avoid undesirable sexual behavior. While this can be a challenging process for all adolescents, many fail to realize the extra strain put on lesbian, gay, or bisexual youth. Now that I am older I often look back and reflect on my childhood. I wonder if I would have been able to make healthier choices if was given advice and assurance that I was not alone; that there was a support system there for me to lean on in difficult times. So I composed a letter to my younger self, providing the kind of advice and support I would have benefited from as I grew up as a gay adolescent.

“I know it is impossible to portray to someone who hasn’t experienced the damaging effects of feeling like you have to lie your way through each and every day in order to avoid harassment and violence. Figuring out that one is gay, and actually being able to take ownership of that in a positive way, doesn’t always happen together. This will take time. But when you do, you will view your orientation as just one more part of your overall identity.”

While I did write the letter to myself, it is important for me to be aware that this letter is not meant solely for me. I see it as a product for today’s gay adolescents and as a universal coping tool for gay youth that are struggling with loneliness, isolation, rejection, feeling unloved, and a sense of loss, which can be overwhelming and sadly lead to suicides. This makes me think about the recent gay teen suicides that have been happening over the past couple of years or so. I wonder if things would have been different if they received a letter like mine from their parents, friends, teachers, or others. Just knowing that someone cares makes all the difference when you are extremely vulnerable and prone to abusive and traumatic situations.

“So find happiness in every direction your paths take you. Never lose that sense of wonder you have always had, and hold on to the sense of humor you use to brighten the lives of everyone who knows you. Go beyond the ordinary steps and discover extraordinary results. Don’t forget how wonderful you are. Aim to be rewarded with the type of friendships that get better and better ~ and the kind of love that graces your life for eternity.”

I was lucky enough to use my mother as a resource for this letter as well. Through a conversation on the phone, I had her tell me things that she wished she told me when I was growing up. Not pertaining to anything she regretted, but to things she felt would have been beneficial for me to know as her son. It was an interesting conversation and it gave me a better insight on our relationship when I was younger. Having a meaningful relationship with my mother came much later in my life and that is something I am very grateful for.

DocFest 2012 Teaser Trailer

By NINA RAMOS

This video was posted as an assignment for Professor Cindy Shearer’s CIA 7091: MFA Interdisciplinary Arts Workshop. As part of a community of artists working across art perspectives, students in this course get the chance to present their work and teach each other about their art form(s), practice, lineage and influences, and are challenged to inquire into the interdisciplinary arts as well as forms new to them.

After many years as part of software development teams that build creative tools, I've recently returned to video editing. This has proved an exhilarating experience reminding me just how much I enjoy producing video works. It's also great to have the technical insight when actively working on these programs.

One of the more fun projects I've generated is a teaser trailer for the SF Indie 2012 DocFest. With this piece, I was looking to showcase the drama of documentaries by juxtaposing a well known piece of music and connect it to scenes from the films being screened. Because there's a built-in emotional connection to the song, the real work rested on curating the images in an engaging way and pacing the editing to suit the mood. I believe I achieved this and am looking forward to continuing to increase my skills in this area.

DocFest 2012 Teaser Trailer from Artvelocity on Vimeo.

Underneath the Old Pine

By DANIELLE REYNOLDS

This post was written as an assignment for Professor Cindy Shearer’s CIA 7091: MFA Interdisciplinary Arts Workshop. As part of a community of artists working across art perspectives, students in this course get the chance to present their work and teach each other about their art form(s), practice, lineage and influences, and are challenged to inquire into the interdisciplinary arts as well as forms new to them.

There was always a branch hanging down over me, hovering almost. I felt cradled and protected.

In my backyard growing up there was this great pine tree where I would often go. It was perfectly positioned between a lilac bush and a mulberry bush. It stood like a temple between the two. Its lower branches hung down and nearly always played with my hair when I crawled underneath. It smelled of musty earth, of pine, and sweet sap. I would sit on a soft bed of needles and just breathe in the tree's smell for a good long while.

I snapped small twigs and dried up needles as I scanned the property. I went to this nest for peace above all, for a break from noise. From this spot I would listen to my neighbors greet each other from across the street. I watched the Combine methodically go through the cornfield in interesting patterns. I watched my neighbor’s dog frolic with joy along the fence line between our properties.  It was my meditation.

Flat cornfields surrounded my house. I was able to see the horizon for miles. I watched countless bright orange, salmon, gold, purple, and blue sunsets from that cradle underneath the old Pine. In the springtime I breathed in the lilac's perfume that danced in the air and into that space. And I can still hear the ripened apricots hitting the ground declaring, "I'm ready!" I snacked on sweet berry treats in the summer. In the fall I watched leaves float silently, in a surrender to the earth. It always made me a little sad to watch them fall. It was a sign of winter's beginning—an entire season of mostly being indoors.

Ravi Shankar's Connection to CIIS

Internationally renowned Indian musician and composer Ravi Shakar died yesterday in San Diego at the age of 92, following a year in which he had grappled with heart and upper respiratory illnesses. Shankar was a virtuosic sitar player who began touring the United States in the mid-1950s and is widely credited with helping to popularize Indian music in the West. (Read Ravi Shankar's full obituary.)

Shankar had deep connections to CIIS and to the Institute's founding family, the Chaudhuris. Haridas and Bina Chaudhuri arrived in San Francisco in 1951 and quickly established themselves as intellectual and cultural beacons in the city. They gained a reputation within India as a good connection in the Bay Area, and received and hosted many visitors from India including spiritual teachers and artists. In the late 1960s and beyond, the Chaudhuris became key members of the growing local Indian community in the Bay Area. Shankar and many of his fellow touring Indian musicians become close with the Chaudhuris over the years.

Shankar visited the Institute many times, and in May 1987 he was invited to play a concert in conjunction with a fundraising gala organized by Board Member Zeppelin Wong. He returned in an official capacity in 1989, when the Institute awarded him an honorary doctorate of philosophy.

Over the next week, we hope to update this post with more information about Shankar's long connection to CIIS, its founders, and its community. 

Bina Chaudhuri with Ravi Shankar

Artist Laurel Burch designed and made this print to promote Ravi Shakar's concert at a CIIS gala in 1987.

 

Ravi Shankar at CIIS in 1986

Inspiration From the Past

By SAMANTHA BLANCHARD

This post was written as an assignment for Professor Cindy Shearer’s CIA 7091: MFA Interdisciplinary Arts Workshop. As part of a community of artists working across art perspectives, students in this course get the chance to present their work and teach each other about their art form(s), practice, lineage and influences, and are challenged to inquire into the interdisciplinary arts as well as forms new to them.

"Inspired by Isadora Duncan's approach to music, [Ruth] St. Denis developed the music visualization, which she defined as '...the scientific translation into bodily action of the rhythmic, melodic and harmonious structure of a musical composition without intention to in any way 'interpret' or reveal any hidden meaning apprehended by the dancer.' Meaning, movement was set strictly to music without reading into anything emotionally. If the music swells, the body swells: if the music grows quiet, the body comes to rest."

    -Jane Sherman, from "Denishawn: The Enduring Influence"

As a former Marion Rice Denishawn Dancer, one of the last pupils of Ruth St. Denis, I am inspired by Denishawn’s development of music visualization. During my time with Mrs. Rice, from ages 7 – 17, we never counted the music, we were asked to feel the music and interpret the choreography in harmony with the music. This was a problem when I got to college and was asked to count the music.  Feeling the music involved moving to the rhythm, melody, and harmonious structure of the composition so that their peaks and valleys matched. Miss Ruth and Mrs. Rice always choreographed to the music; the music was the inspiration and the driving force behind the dance.  The repertory, or dance choreography, was written but rarely videoed, so interpretations could vary, however, because the movements were in direct connection with the music the dance became a part of us, a complete embodiment.  If I hear the music of “Soaring” or “Red Radiance,” I can recall the choreography effortlessly.  My muscle memory takes over and the dance just flows through me because the movement is so attuned to the music.  Unfortunately, there are no video clips of these dances, so I have Ruth St. Denis’ "Brahms Waltz" (1922) performed by Cynthia Gregory at Jacob’s Pillow.

There is something about the fusion of movement and music that gives each discipline more power than it could have had otherwise. The collision of these mediums creates a whole new experience of the dance, both for the viewer and the dancer. It gives it a magical life of harmonious expression and adds textured information to the storyline. I have detoured from this idea, experimentally, but find that I always come back to the structure of music visualization, maybe because it’s familiar or organic, but mostly because it feels right. My most recent music visualization piece, Magdalene (2006), was inspired by a festival at ODC Theater, Underserved POP II, asking the artists to dance to a favorite pop song.