Red Rover

Diane Frank’s description of the dance event “Red Rover” sounded so interesting that I knew I had to go. Not only did it exceed my expectations, it was probably one of my favorite art performances I have ever seen. The dance consisted of five different dance groups who performed a site-specific dance. The audience walked from site to site led by the “Rovers”—Stanford students who were dressed in white with some sort of red highlight—bandanas, sashes, etc. Not only were the dances unique, visually stimulating, and physically impressive, but the way in which the performance was conducted had artistic and conceptual significance.

First, the way in which the Rovers led the audience was artistic—they had to run ahead and direct the audience with their body, using the environment around them as props. For example, if they encountered a tree on the way, they would wrap their body around it while pointing with, for instance, their leg. If there was a curb, they would lie down as a barrier while constructing an artistic position on the ground with their body. Some were quite impressive—doing handstands along the way, using the Quad pillars as support, or holding an arabesque position on cement blocks for long periods of time. One interesting aspect I noted was that on the walk to the second location, we walked through a rather industrial construction site on campus where we wound in and out of metal fencing and construction plastic. This had meaning for me as it was so different from a formal dance performance in which one enters a fancy venue, dressed nicely, to watch the performance. Not only were we walking from place to place, but we were walking through ordinary settings. The Rovers did not choose to lead us through an area that was not cluttered with construction, but rather took the normal path despite the somewhat informal surroundings. To add to this informality, the walking caused each member to arrive at the scene at different times, so each member did not see the same thing. In fact, some would miss the beginning—there were no formal start/stop points for the performance. All of these characteristics played on the natural aspect of art—that everything can be viewed as part of the dance. In a way, all the ground we covered was part of the performance—the walk itself was a dance—we were being led to go certain places along a path that had some goal.

It will be hard to describe all of the dances in such a short space, so I will note on how many of them used the environments around them for their stage, for I think this is one of the main things Red Rover was trading on. The first piece began with various pairs spread along a courtyard, with one of the members of each pair standing on a polished stone “bench”—already using the environment as props. As the dance progressed, each member began to run down a grassy hill and dance around the trees—grasping and groping them as they circled around. Then, the Rovers led us to a place where we could see the next piece of the dance more clearly, because the dancers began to frolic down the hill (the change in elevation not allowing us to see their further steps from our original position). The dancers proceeded to enter a shallow pool/fountain and continued the dance in the water. This was one of the most interesting parts of the whole dance as the use of space was incredible. Not only were the dancers in water but the source of the sound was as well—there were three artists using bottles, barrels, coins, and other tools to make water sounds which were then amplified and distorted. It reminded me of Professor Applebaum’s sound system performance. I also enjoyed the fact that not only did the environment affect the dancers, but the dancers in turn affected the environment—creating ripples in the water, and making water prints on the stone as they stepped out of the water.

The second performance was affected by the wind and the sun. There were petals forming a spiral that the dancers ran through, yet which were blown by the wind, blurring the spiral’s lines. The setting sun also shone through an opening between two parts of the building, so the performance had its own natural lighting. The fourth performance used the actual functional aspects of buildings as an aspect of their dance. The focus of their performance was that “the brain is the body” and “the body is the brain”—the writing on their shirts and also the subject of their chants. Ironically, the dance was performed in the main section between the Law Library and Meyer Library. The dancers even used books as props for their dance. In each case, the environment was used for its props and setting. The fact that the Rovers also used props around them and the dances themselves were not on stage but in various parts of campus showed that anything can be used as art and the environment around us can be our stage.

The Golden Gate Bridge

An architectural marvel, the Golden Gate Bridge has been one of San Francisco’s key features for more than 75 years. The fascinating landmark spans almost two miles across the San Francisco bay and stands 746 feet tall above the water. Tourists flock from all over the world to witness this masterpiece because seeing a structure in a picture and then seeing it in reality are two completely different experiences.
The most astonishing aspect of the Golden Gate Bridge is that it has but two vertical supports, leaving most of the bridge suspended between them. Because of this, the bridge appears as a physical impossibility due to the restrictions of gravity. However, the design of this bridge allows it to be incredibly stable while retaining its splendor. This gives the structure an extremely perplexing quality, as if it were constructed by God himself and thus too perfect to understand.
In terms of the aesthetics of the design, the structure is organized using the horizontal axis onto which the road falls as a datum. The two towers comprise the vertical axis. As a whole, the bridge is very symmetrical, as the towers are equidistant from the center, but even smaller parts of the bridge have symmetric properties. For example, along both sides of the base of the bridge, there is a repeating pattern of right triangles. This motif can also be found just below the horizontal axis on the supporting towers. Here, the triangular pattern has been transformed so that instead of two triangles sharing a hypotenuse and thereby forming a square, the right angles point inward and the hypotenuses form the outside of the square.
The idea of contrast is also ever present in this magnificent structure. The two cables that run over the top of the towers and are secured at either end form a giant parabola in the middle of the bridge. Symmetry comes into play again since the two cables run parallel to each other. This implies complete perfection; from a side view, the bridge is just as symmetric as it is from an aerial view. Under the cables, there are poles that vary in length for support. These poles draw attention to the vertical axis, consequently forcing the viewer to contemplate the space beneath the bridge that is not directly supported. Another instance of contrast can be found in the towers, which contain spaces shaped like rounded rectangles. The rounded shapes break up the linear focus of the rest of the bridge and add variety to the design.
The Golden Gate Bridge is as awe-inspiring as it is confusing; the design in incredible, yes, but the real feat lies in its functionality and durability. As a symbol, this bridge establishes San Francisco as a majestic city and beckons outsiders to become part of it. If such a grandiose and seemingly architecturally impossible structure can stand in the San Francisco Bay, then who’s to say that their dreams will not be fulfilled in the city?

Photographs

Revolving Around Red Rover

This evening I participated in “Red Rover,” a traveling dance performance on the Stanford campus, and it was one of the best artistic experiences of my life. I wandered around campus with the audience, but behind my Nikon’s lens, creating a different experience for myself, one that revolved around a swirl of color, movement, and sound, rather than intricate thematic details.

            When I woke up this morning I was dismayed by (what appeared to be) rain clouds, however, by this evening the sky had cleared and was simply speckled with white clouds. As students, I feel that we often take for granted how beautiful and architecturally diverse our campus is, and “Red Rover” took advantage of this diverse beauty. There were a total of five dances, and student guide dancers led the audience across campus. These guide dancers were dressed in white and pranced around campus, perching themselves on columns, climbing on gates, and creating human chains to hold back traffic. They slithered between the audience and the dancers and heightened the sense of connection between the two groups.

            One of my favorite dances took place on the pavement between Meyer and the Law School. Six women in red shirts danced up and down the road chanting things such as “my body is meant to be here,” throwing books upon the ground, and smothering themselves with red paint. The dancers opened bottles of “blood,” finger painted their bodies red, and left handprints upon the ground. Their movements were deliberate and the dance illustrated the women’s power over their bodies. By this time in the evening, the sun had almost set and large flashlights illuminated the dancers. Because I was photographing the event, I was fascinated by the flashlight ringlets patterns on the dancers.

            The final dance, which took place inside of the red fountain near Green Library, was my favorite. There was only one couple in this dance and they glided in and out of the fountain’s boundaries, climbing up and down the stone stairs that surround the fountain. Visually, it was stunning. They were cloaked in white clothes that seemed to drip off of their bodies; they were surrounded by red, and illuminated by the fountain lights below. This dance focused the audience’s attention to the interactions between the two dancers’ bodies: the power construct between them continually shifted as they switched positions.

            I said at the beginning that I “participated” in “Red Rover” this evening, and while I had no official role in the piece, I still feel as though I participated in it… just by being in the audience. The dance was trading on the dancers’ interaction with their surroundings, which includes the audience. The surroundings also includes the sunset, and while the dance can be repeated, the sunset and the ambiance will never be exactly the same. Each dance was unique and the dancers employed not only their bodies, but also rose petals, flags, clothes, books, paints, flowers, and musical instruments such as gongs. It would have been easy for these dances to become over the top, but their balance between virtuosity and nature created a performance of understated beauty and sensuality.  

The Golden Gate Bridge

The Golden Gate Bridge has been an icon of the San Francisco skyline since May 28th, 1937, when it was opened to vehicular traffic after four arduous years of construction. Today marks its 71st anniversary of its opening. Looking at this gargantuan structure, not only do I marvel at the sheer size, intricacy, and brilliance of its architectural features, but also, I’m awestruck by the shocking—even unexpected—beauty of this design. When looking at the bridge, some may initially see a highly functional system of parts that has come together to form an orderly and efficient whole—then they may begin to note the aesthetic features. Others will initially become so enveloped in the aesthetic qualities, that the mechanics of this giant’s construction will be a secondary, and minor concern. For me it was the second; first I viewed The Golden Gate Bridge as I would a sculpture, and only when my eyes shifted to the vehicles zipping across and the boats cruising under the five-lane bridge did I begin to think of its success in terms of functionality. The bridge’s duality, in terms of function and aesthetic appeal, has made it one of San Francisco’s main tourist attractions.

When I visited the bridge last weekend, there was enough sunlight to bring out some of its most striking design features. The Golden Gate Bridge captures and reflects sunlight as though it were a prism. At times it is unclear what color the paint on the metal structure actually is. I have been to this site many times, in many different types of weather, and viewed the bridge from almost every imaginable angle. In this respect, I have come to comprehend the intricacies of The Golden Gate Bridge, and have come to understand it as more than just a famous, flat silhouette in the San Francisco skyline. Against the backdrop off a spotless blue sky, it seems more rust-colored, while in the fog, the tops of the towers appear whispy and pink, almost getting lost, reminding me of a smudged image on a chalkboard. When lit up by the moon, headlights, and the manmade floodlights at its base, the bridge appears to be bounding out of the night sky; it is pale and luminescent as though the light is actually radiating from the surface of the structure itself, not just bouncing off of it from another source. In all cases, when the vertical ribbing catches light, it looks delicate, thin, and even frail, like thread or dental floss, but the fact is, they are rigid cables, supporting tons and tons of weight, ensuring the stability of the bridge.

In terms of the structural aesthetics, I feel as though the bridge was designed with an Art Deco theme in mind. Not only does the bridge’s bright red color suggest this theme, but so do some of the shapes we find in its design. The vertical ribbing, the two towers and the horizontal line created by the base gives us four distinct triangles divided into dozens and dozens of cross-sections. This pattern-like feel, as well as symmetry can be likened to much of the Art Deco themed architecture found in this part of the country. Importantly, not only does this symmetrical triangular pattern mimic a style that we have seem emanated time and time again for aesthetic appeal, but these patterns are what have made the bridge a strong, dependable resource for commuters, and a world-renowned engineering success.

There is an aspect of effortlessness, as well as simplicity in the design of The Golden Gate Bridge. Standing in the hills of San Francisco, looking out on the bridge, I tried to squint my eyes and imagine that it was made of something entirely different from concrete and metal. From such a distance, I started to envision the towers as tree branches, and the cables as silk webbing made by a tent caterpillar. The same type of duality is present in a caterpillar tent, as in the design of the bridge; we are at a crossroads of aesthetic appeal and functionality. As a comparison to the bridge, the design of one of these caterpillar tents must be durable enough to last for months, and to protect the caterpillars that will eventually emerge.

The longer I looked at the bridge, the more I became enthralled by the cables. I felt the sense that each cable attached to the bridge was delicate in nature, probably somewhat pliable. The long cables running from column to column seemed to be sort of draped slackly over the towers—this gave me the image of a clothesline hanging between two trees. When juxtaposed with the rigidity of the five-lane base and the two gargantuan towers, the cables seemed bendable and relaxed. Not only was this an intriguing design feature in terms of aesthetic quality, but the malleability of the cables is also an engineering decision that has served The Golden Gate Bridge well during periods of high winds, and seismic activity. Thus, there is no question in my mind that this bridge exemplifies the perfect balance between function and aesthetic appeal.

Red Rover

Today, I attended the end of a dance performance called Red Rover. The dance piece presented five individual pieces spread throughout campus. Because the title was “Red Rover”, the color red was vibrantly infused into each location or the dancers themselves.
Though I was not able to view the entire performance, I was able to view many of Nadia’s records from the performance, which were outstanding. She managed to create compositions that captured the dancers at the height of their movement and with the full brilliance of the scene; color and contrast. One dance took place in the Clark Center. To the viewer of the performance, the dancers were framed by the red arches of the Clark Center, which lie parallel to the ground. It was surreal to see the arches in the context of dance, where I was more familiar with them in the days when I worked at a lab in the Clark Center. In the center of the Clark Center, there is a large circle. The dancers had lined the circle with rose petals, spiraling them inwards. The contrast of the bright red petals against the concrete seemed to breathe life into an otherwise barren structure. The actual dance consisted of four dancers; two couples. They wound around the spiral carefully, not disturbing any of the petals as they spiraled in and out holding hands. As the dance moved onwards, their care of the spiral lessened and their motions became more dramatic. The spiral fell into disarray. To me, it reminded me of a mandala painting; of the impermanence of beauty, and how even that impermanence can be beautiful. The disorderly arrangement of the petals did not take away from the bright life they brought to the Clark Center.

As the dancers moved from location to location, there were guides that pointed the way. Dressed in all white with a striking red bandana in their hair or on their arm, the guides either stood as still as statues, hunched in varying positions on the walkway, or stood in a dramatic dance pose pointing the way to the next performance. One impressive piece involved them waving red ribbon streamers down through the main quad.

The final piece was set in the red fountain in front of Green Library. I was able to speak to one of the dancers about the composition and choreography behind the dance. The two dancers were dressed in all white and moved gracefully about the arch of the red fountain. There was a little table inside the water curtains of the fountain that the dancers would occasionally stand on to perform. They wound around each other delicately, and played on the contrast between standing outside the red arch, and in the center of the fountain. They also took the opportunity to stand directly underneath the curtain, taking full advantage of all of the space. The reflection of the light from the fountain on them made them appear ethereal. They were playing on two dimensions of red: the conception of red as the color of passion, and its conception as the color of rage. When the choreographer decided to create this dance, she thought about what red meant to her. She found a poem that described red as a dichotomous color, a color of oppositions. She brought the poem in for the dancers and asked them to choreograph something for themselves as if it would be an individual piece, and took elements from it to use in the final choreography. Working with the conception of red as a dichotomy, she decided to represent this in the space she was using. The movement of the dancers between the outside of the fountain to the ‘nucleus’ of the fountain was very deliberate. I did not notice this myself because I did not notice the changes in poses between outside the fountain and inside, but I did notice their delicate use of the space. When I looked at the images Nadia took, it did seem that when they were moving into the center of the fountain, it symbolized a deepening of intensity. Proximity itself was enough to induce that feeling of intensity.

Furthermore, according to the dancer, the dance was intended to symbolize the contrast between the two emotional elements of red. The choreographer wanted to show how movement would change based on feeling; for example, the difference between movement in passion, and movement in fear. The movement in fear was especially communicative to me, as the dancer would hunch over and place her hands between her knees and look to the side. It was an upwards fetal position, and when it was being explained to me, I could name the feeling based on her pose before she named it herself. It was incredible to me that emotion could be that clearly articulated through dance pose and body language.

Red Rover was a feast for the eyes in action and in stills; and a feast for the mind. It gave me quite a lot to think about, and a greater appreciation of the work and concept that goes into creating a story or presentation of ideas through dance. It is more than creating something beautiful; these choreographers created pieces with real weight and meaning, and they pay very close attention to visual presentation, aesthetics of the surroundings, and the nuances of the space they are working with. I have never thought so much after a dance performance, and I am inspired to try to create a dance choreography at some point (after much more training and practice!).

Tamarine Lunch Review

On Monday, May 19, Nadia, Ellora, Yaa, Becca, and I dined at Tamarine, a Vietnamese cuisine in Palo Alto. When I arrived, I wasn’t quite sure what to expect. I had never been to a Vietnamese restaurant. There were a few businessmen scattered here and there, the lighting was slightly dimmed; the ambiance of the room felt maroon, the color of the tablecloths. As I took in my surroundings, I got the impression that Tamarine was trading on a more formal, less traditional approach to Vietnamese food, for the place seemed to value an upscale, high class, clean appearance over a deep-rooted cultural experience. Instead of garnishing the walls with Vietnamese art, a separate room was formed to showcase art from Vietnam. Likewise, the food dishes had to be ordered separately—the salad, the rice, stews, and main dishes were all a la carte. It seems that Tamarine aimed to present both Vietnamese culture—through art and food—and their entrees all separately, giving the customers autonomy to mix and match various elements of food and art in a unique manner, so that a variety of experiences are possible.

The first dish I ordered was the Ginger Chicken Salad: chicken, cabbage, cashews, mint, and ginger dressing. Overall, the salad had a sweet, but subtle flavor, contrasted by the sharp (compared to round), rhombus-shaped plate on which it was presented. The chicken was particularly soft, but gave off a slightly bitter aftertaste. The dressing was lightly drizzled atop the salad, providing the perfect balance among ingredients, such that none dominated the other. The ingredients were relatively isolated from each other in the form of layers in the salad; in this sense Tamarine succeeding in keeping its elements separate, left for the customer to mix them.

Next I ordered the Coconut Rice. This dish came in a banana leaf bowl set atop a weave basket, the most elegant of the three dishes I ordered. The rice was isolated from the rest of the food, enclosed and sheltered. The banana leaf dimmed the lighting deep inside the bowl, emitting a green hue within the dish. I found that the rice, moist and soft, topped with shaved coconut, tasted best in its own rather than mixed with other dishes. While atypical of rice dishes, the self-sufficiency of the rice was due to its creamy rather than plain flavor. In this case, I felt encouraged not to mix the rice with the rest of the dishes, though I still had the option of mixing them.

The main dish I ordered was the Mango Tilapia, but with chicken instead of tilapia. This dish was disappointing. The first two had set up high expectations, and when I took my first bite of this stew-like dish, I was overwhelmed by the tang of the sauce and the savory aspect of the chicken and mango. Instead, I was expecting something sweet; my experience with mangos in restaurants has been that they are always sweet. This turned out even more disappointing when I found that the dish did not mix well with the coconut rice; the sauce was too overpowering. Unaccustomed to eating stews without some type of balancing dish such as rice, I felt abandoned by the restaurant, left with a dish too thick to be a soup and too strong to be eaten on its own.

Though Tamarine succeeded in presenting its customers with separate dishes, lending to more possible combinations and autonomy of choice, my personal experience with the food was one of failure; the dishes did not mix well, and the main entrée was unappealing. However, I would return to the restaurant again—but only for the coconut rice, a pearl amongst pebbles.

~Dominique Y.