The Humble Conductor

An all 20th Century program: Ravel based on Couperin, a modern Flute Concerto, and a opera in concert... by Bartok? Quite a hard sell and yet there were people asking me about getting Rush Tickets up until an hour before the show! As much as I would like to think that it was my amazing marketing talent, unfortunately I know that is not the case. Whether it was because of or in spite of the program for this past Wednesday's performance, most people came out to see Pierre Boulez conduct in Hill Auditorium once again.


Boulez's subtle conducting, although not incredibly entertaining as my friend whose Rush Tickets landed him in the front row made sure to let me know, carried an energy and passion that led these incredible musicians to several standing ovations. During the long and well-deserved applause, I was struck by how humble Boulez was; always motioning for his soloists to take the front of the stage, leaving himself slightly in back. The conductor of my non-music major, unprofessional choir will take 10 bows for himself before motioning to us. But not Boulez. In the diva/divo centered world of music, it was refreshing to see such a great musician, who didn't need that limelight.

By: Rachel Lum
UMS Student Marketing Intern

Arts and Eats: Bill T. Jones/Arnie Zane Dance Company

The UMS Paparazzi were out once again last Friday night at the Arts and Eats event in the UM Alumni Center.

As students entered, they were greeted by the lovely face of UMS Student Advisory Committee Members, Sarah Bichsel (left) and Lena Cintron (right).


After picking from a wide variety of pizzas, students headed to the drink station to quench their thirst.

Then students enjoyed their meals, chatting about the exciting show they were about to see.

Students got to enjoy a talk by Janet Wong, the Assistant Artistic Director of the Bill T. Jones/Arnie Zane Dance Company. Janet discussed the artistic process and how the company worked together to develop "Fondly Do We Hope... Fervently Do We Pray." She mentioned a type of improvisation the company used, which involved moving together in an ovular pattern, hence the use of ovals on the stage! She gave an incredibly interesting perspective!

After Janet's talk, students hung out at the Alumni center and enjoyed each other's company while waiting for the show.


Some brought homework...

... some did each other's hair...


... and some even brought art of their own to do!

Overall, it was a great night! If you want to come join the fun, then check out the UMS website for more information about tickets, which go on sale about two weeks before the Arts and Eats performance. We still have Arts and Eats events for:

The folk musician, Bela Fleck's Africa Project, in which he explores the roots of the Banjo on Wednesday, February 17 at 6:30 in the Hill Mezzanine Lobby

The incredible Takacs Quartet, who will be performing two Beethoven quartets along with a new work, on Monday, March 15 at 6:30 in the UM Alumni Center

A program of Prokofiev and Brahms by the Schleswig-Holstein Festival Orchestra with pianist Lang Lang and conductor Christoph Eshenbach on Wednesday, April 7th at 6:30 in the UM Alumni Center

And our final Arts and Eats of the season will be for Danilo Perez and Friends: 21st Century Dizzy, a show inspired by Perez's mentor and the great jazz trumpeter, Dizzy Gillespie, on Thursday, April 8th at 6:30 in the UM Alumni Center

See you all there!

By: Rachel Lum
UMS Intern

Bill T. Jones/Arnie Zane Dance Company does Lincoln

Fondly Do We Hope…Fervently Do We Pray

A performance by Bill T. Jones/Arnie Zane Dance Company

by University Musical Society Student Advisory Committee member

I went to see Bill T. Jones/Arnie Zane Dance Company's performance at the Power Center on Saturday (Jan 23). Before that, on Friday (Jan 22), I had attended the "Arts of Citizenship" breakfast at the UM Museum of Art, on the topic of "Lincoln in American Culture's Collective Memory", in which several UM faculty members discussed the performance. Robin Wilson, Associate Professor of Dance, who is both a choreographer and a dance historian, said something at the Arts of Citizenship" breakfast that I was struck by. Wilson said that the human body is a container of memory. In our bodies -- our muscles -- we retain memories in a non-verbal, non-visual way -- viscerally and not visually, so to speak. For this reason, dance is very powerful, Prof. Wilson remarked in her talk, when what is being represented has to do with memory. Given that this performance by the Bill T. Jones/Arnie Zane Dance Company was a "meditation about Lincoln", it had to do, very much, with memory -- national, collective memory in the United States, since Lincoln played such an important role in US history and in the country's changing perception of itself. For this reason, Prof. Wilson felt, dance in particular was a very appropriate medium to celebrate and commemorate Lincoln.

In today's New York Times, newspaper, Eve Ensler remarks in an interview that dance can have a transformative effect on bodily trauma: "When you’ve been raped, the trauma lodges itself in your being". she says. "Dance is a surefire way to release it." Ensler states that, for that reason, she uses dance in the center that she runs for women who have been victims of the civil war in Congo. That, too, made me think of how apposite it is, then, that dance should represent Lincoln and the Civil War, given the national trauma that the Civil War and, subsequently, the assassination of Lincoln, represent for the USA.

The performance consisted of dancing figures (often foregrounded in the two corners of the Power Center stage) and a couple of musicians sitting right in front of the stage and facing the audience. A huge white curtain just behind the front of the stage was used to project images. The performance was nonlinear and non-narrative -- there was no attempt to narrate the life story of Lincoln from beginning to end. Instead, dance, music, and occasional voice-overs were left to speak for themselves.

Water Music

Last Friday, I was on a very sleepy and snowy flight from Detroit to New York’s Laguardia airport. As early as it was (the flight left at 6am, meaning a 3:30 wake up in order to make it to the airport on time through the several inches of snow that had fallen the night before), I was still pulsing with excitement at the coming weekend where I would be volunteering at the annual conference of the Association of Performing Arts Professionals with six other University of Michigan students. To pass the time, I buried myself in an article in The New Yorker called “Water Music” that discussed the October opening of the new Revson fountain in Lincoln Center plaza as part of the venue’s 1.3 billion dollar redevelopment project. The description of four hundred and seventy-five gallons of water in the air forming “a mighty column of water that slowly rises to a height of twelve feet” was enchanting, but somehow I didn’t make the connection that I was traveling to the city that housed this majestic structure.

About thirty-six hours and one iPod later (it had been a casualty of my sleepiness on the flight and is probably being enjoyed by someone else who happened to enjoy seat 8B on my American Airlines plane that day), I found myself standing in front of the very fountain about which I had been reading as I awaited the Metropolitan Opera’s production of Turandot. The fountain was stunning; illuminated by the fully lit opera house behind it and serving as the centerpiece of the hustle and bustle of hundreds of patrons scurrying into the warmth of the performance that awaited them. I stood outside for a few minutes, downing a tall latte from Starbucks that would ensure my full attention during Puccini’s masterpiece, and took in the energy that surrounded me. Standing in Lincoln Center at performance time is a humbling experience for anyone, much less a student of the performing arts; the energy in the plaza is a reflection of both the current love of the performing arts and the history of exceptional performances in what is perhaps the very heart of classical music in America.

My first experience at the Metropolitan Opera was seven years ago, when my family and I drove up from our Maryland home to see a production of Verdi’s Il trovatore. I hadn’t been to the Met since then, so I had a vague picture of its interior (although I knew to be excited for the personal subtitle screen on the seat in front of me no matter where I was sitting). My seat was fantastic, especially considering my ticket had only been purchased a few hours before at a student price, and gave me a spectacular view of both the stage as well as the layers of the opera house stretching high above me like some kind of giant birthday cake. After being joined by the lovely Rachel Lum, I sat brimming with anticipation as the lights dimmed and the curtain slowly rose, signaling the onset of what would be an exhilarating three hours.

There are only so many words I can use to describe the evening. The set was beautifully grand, the voices so rich that they actually served as my dessert for the evening, and the story charmingly timeless. What makes an evening at the Metropolitan Opera so special is not just the astounding voices so often heard on stage (although that certainly is a large part of any opera performance), but the collaborative effort of the entire production. When the curtain first rose on Saturday night, my eyes came close to filling with tears before a note had even been sung. The beauty of the entire experience – the set, the costumes, the design of the hall and stage, the lush sound of the orchestra from the pit – would not have been possible unless each element had been perfectly executed and placed to complement the others. Bland costumes would distract from the sounds emanating from the voices of the performers, and no production stands a chance of achieving its full potential when presented in a tired looking opera house.

The power of collaborative efforts that I realized at the opera exists outside of an individual production; it is what makes Lincoln Center a strong institution across its twelve arts organizations, and is exactly the purpose of conferences such as APAP that bring together arts communities from all over the world. In an ever-changing society where the status of the arts remains uncertain, it is imperative that people continue to come together and share as they did last weekend in New York. Perhaps the most striking thing I learned from my APAP experience is that collaborative efforts to improve the arts need to exist outside the boundaries of the field. I was lucky enough to be scheduled to work at a session called “At the ‘Tipping Point’: Artists and Climate Change,” that discussed how the arts can be used to raise awareness about the climate crisis (for more details on the session, see Maureen Stych’s entry below). I entered the session skeptical – how on earth can the concepts of art and climate change possibly be linked? The details are best explained in Maureen’s post, but the most important message that the session contributed is that we need another Copernican revolution. Copernicus thought the earth was the center of the universe, only to discover nine planets revolved around something much bigger, the sun. Citizens of the world need to follow his example and realize that different disciplines are not as central as they think; rather, they work together to maintain a sustainable existence. It is the same collaboration that made my evening at the Met so special that can enrich the arts as a whole, not only through discussion across the field but every branch of knowledge and study.

By: Patrick Carter

Intern, Office of Development and External Relations at the School of Music, Theatre & Dance

The "Other" Artist

Lots of people live in New York City, it seems. I always knew it, I guess. Lots of people on the subway like bumper bowling at every station. Skyscrapers and Yankee fans. But, the APAP trip convinced me of its enormity. The people in this city create the largest audience for the arts in the world. This means a lot of things for the arts in New York. It means that the institutions can charge exorbitant ticket prices and still sell seats. It means that Bruce Springsteen can sell out a week at Madison Square Garden. But, it also means that there is a huge population of weirdos that consistently consume the avant-garde, the experimental, the "out". I use the term "weirdos" neither positively or negatively. It's just who they are- who we are?

Well, a quick list of some of the shows I saw this weekend may clear up the weird definition. Wednesday evening was The Asphalt Orchestra (http://asphaltorchestra.com/). They are a marching band- well, they look and act like a marching band. At the brand new Rubenstein Atrium at Lincoln Center, in a room with vines covering the walls, The Asphalt Orchestra did not play Hail To The Victors or any other fight songs. Instead, they marched the audience around the room and played transcriptions of Frank Zappa, Tyondai Braxton, and many others. They were talented, fun, interactive but, most definitely, weird. Thursday night was The Devil You Know (http://www.undertheradarfestival.com/index.php?p=27). A beautiful piece of puppet theater, the play was based on the 1937 short story, "The Devil and Daniel Webster". A show about a man selling his soul to the devil and Daniel Webster winning it back, it was dark, creepy, extremely engaging, and weird. Friday night was Trajal Harrell's "Twenty Looks or Paris Is Burning At the Judson Church (S)" at the New Museum (http://www.newmuseum.org/events/418). A solo dance piece, Harrell attempts to tell the story of what would have happened had the early postmodern dance artists allowed the African Americans dancing in the ballrooms uptown to participate in the dance scene downtown. An interesting question, Harrell explores the idea through the lens of a one man fashion show. Intimately and subtly, Harrell changed clothes and expressions- in his onstage dressing room- 30 times over the 60 minute show. Weird. The list continues throughout the weekend with dance showcases, theater performances, world music acts, and jazz club sets. And, at every show I went to, the house was full and the crowd seemed to be loving it.

I cannot always connect with the extremely "out" performances- someday maybe I will be deep enough- however, this weekend I found a deep appreciation for the importance of performance space and audience for the "other" artist. Is he welcome in Ann Arbor? Where's his home? Who cares?

By: Bennett Stein
UMS Intern

A Note About: The APAP Conferend

“Climate Change: The Musical.”

Not exactly a Tony-Award winning concept, is it? Even I, someone who isn’t directly involved in the performing arts in any way, can identify such a concept as a an undeniable flop. But, as a Generation Y-er, I’m intrinsically concerned with the state of our environment, and exploring way to curb mankind’s damaging impact on our plant. Certainly there must be a way to utilize the arts—our micro-bubble of beauty in this destructive macrocosm—to not only reach the public, but get them to care about the environment, change their ways, and cultivate a better world.

I know. It’s far-fetched. Or so I thought.

About twenty minutes ago, I left a 3ish-hour long presentation called “At the ‘Tipping Point’: Artists and Climate Change” here at the Association of Performing Arts Presenters (APAP) conference.

What just happened to me in those three hours was monumentally impactful in a way I never imagined.

I was skeptical when I volunteered work the event. In my experience, most attempts to blend the arts (whether music, dance, visual, written, theatre, etc.) with “save the environment” message always fell short in my book. It was either too cheesy, too dull, too strange, too new-age-y, too political (yes, that’s looking at you, Al Gore), or, honestly, just felt half-baked: the execution of the project didn’t do the message justice; the implementation either made the work feel immature or overwhelmed me with so many statistics and scare tactics that I felt diluted by too much science mumbo-jumbo that I just didn’t understand.

Fortunately, I discovered I wasn’t alone in this realization.

The presentation addressed this problem directly: how can we use the Arts to engage audiences while also educating them about the importance of global warming? There must be some middle ground; there must be a way for the Arts, as influential a field as it is, to strike deep into the very core of humans. It must be a part (if not the leader) of a radical movement to alter our lifetstyles, ways of thinking, and priorities.

But how?

We can’t turn everyone into Greenie Extremists and expect people to trade their cars in for bikes or build a compost pile in their backyard. Even if we could, finding a way to globalize those ideals through any medium would be darned-near impossible.

Graham Devlin, the keynote speaker of the presentation and a chair member at Tipping Point, emphasized the importance of getting artists themselves to care about the issue. Even just being at this conference for the last two days, I understand what he’s talking about: amid an overwhelming, bustling world of BlackBerries and social networking, why would—or SHOULD—an artist living in the heart of a metropolitan area care about the ice caps melting? The effects of global warming, despite all the PSAs, local protests, and political agendas, are hardly something these people are exposed to on a daily basis. They’re more concerned about getting a gig (or, in the case of presenters, finding a propritious gig) than they are about saving the world. I can’t blame them, really: part of my reason for attending this conference is to get myself into this networking world, and preventing the polar ice caps from melting is the last thing on my mind.

So, Devlin proposes, if we get the artists to care, we can get thier audiences to care. You don’t need hoaxy, trite ideas like “Climate Change: The Musical” in order to reach large groups of people. (Of course, don’t get me wrong: what I learned about the work done at the COP15 Coppenhagen Conference not only struck me as being of great importance, but also on a large-scale level that impacted people from all walks of life. Politicians, activists, chefs, artists, Average Joe: everyone could see, hear, touch, and experience the crisis we face as a planet).

But there are ideas fostered in a smaller realm that can be just as, if not more, impactful. Composer Robert Juan Rodriguez worked with Susie Ibarra to make a film (“Song of the Bird King”) about the impact of climate change on the indigenous people of the Phillipenes. They visited the tribe, heard their stories, recorded their music, and felt their pain. This tribe, losing their precious Lake Sabu to big-business filth, directly feel the changes of our planet; their everyday life is crumbling due to changes in the environment, and yet they have virtually nothing to do with its downfall whatsoever. Rodriguez and Ibarra, emotionally drawn to these people and their disastrous calamity, created a beautiful film (and soundtrack) that wasn’t corny or too in-your-face, change-your-ways-before-you-kill-us-all, but was incredibly heart-wrenching. Sure, a lot of it was due to the tragedy of the Filipinos, but it was also a result of the masterful work of the artists; they brought this world to us, and by doing so, they force us to register how what we do in our lives effects people a few, a hundred, or even thousands of miles away.

For me, though, this entire presentation was owned by the work of Natalie Jeremijenko and the Environmental Health Clinic. Her work was just…wow. It floored me. She absolutely, positively floored me.

Never in my life did I believe the nitty-gritty facts and statistics of science could blend so cohesively into a world of asethetics in such a beautiful, stream-lined, innovative manner. Her work is stunning. Gorgeous.

Sitting there, watching her presentation, I didn’t just feel motivated to change the world, I wanted in on this projected. I wanted to be doing this work. I wanted to be coming up with these brilliant public demonstrations like the No Parks and Tadpole Walkers. If they seem absurd, then their absurdity is what captivates an audience and lies at the heart of Jeremijenko’s success. I wasn’t alone in my awe; everyone was captivated by her work with eXperimental design.

After her work, I felt a calling from myself to do something along these lines. True, Jeremijenko works in a visual realm, and APAP is centralized around performing arts, but who says the visual arts can’t be a performance? That’s exactly what Jeremijenko brings to the table with her work, and that’s exactly why I find myself overwhelmingly drawn to her work and the possibilities it opens up not only for climate change, the visual arts, arts presenters, and performing arts, but also for what it does to me. It inspires me. Even though, I admit, I get inspired a lot and by a lot of things (read: pretty much everything), Jeremijenko presented a world to me that I could live and work in, and make my own.

The work she presented in a visual world (which is where I feel truly at home) can easily be transposed to music, theatre, and dance. Arts presenters can find similar ways to hook their audiences and get them to interact creatively with the performance. It’s brilliant. Everything is transferable, especially in a field as creative and fluid as the arts. That’s what I loved about sitting in on this seminar: imagine all the things we could do! I keep imagining a performing center blended with some visual arts gallery or studio. Or something Pollock-esque, where visual arts can be performed for an audience to get across a social message, or spark interest in a problem. The possibilities overwhelm me at times, but more than anything, they excite me.

And, really, that’s what APAP brings to me. Even though it’s great for social networking, at its core, it’s about sharing ideas and sparking excitement in others about what you do, and collaborating to build the best experience for everyone involved. Artist, presenter, and audience can all gain from a show, or even the pre-show and post-show. The field of arts presenting is larger than I ever imagined, and much more dynamic than my previous conceptions. That is what truly excites me.

By: Maureen Stych

UMS Intern

Social Media and the Arts

When you work for UMS, you know Ken Fischer, because he is the nice, approachable who hugs you in the elevator on the way to class. When you are any one else in the arts presenting business, you know Ken Fischer, because he is Ken Fischer. None of us realized what simply knowing him meant for our experience here at the APAP conference.

It all started last night with a trip to the 42nd floor of the Hilton, where we met Ken in the Major Unitversity Presenters or MUP suite. He gave us a mission and a wad of cash and spent an hour getting the suite prepped for that night, when his friends, aka all the big shots of arts presenting, come up to the suite for an evening of reconnections, discussions and networking.

When we returned from our night on the town, the suite was just starting to get busy. One of the first people we met was Mike Ross from the Krannert Center for the Performing Arts at the University of Illinois, who is, you know, only the Chairman of the APAP Board of Directors. No biggie, right?

Although the night continued in the same manner, meeting anyone and everyone, my personal highlight of the evening was getting the chance to meet and talk with Romana Jaroff, the Senior VP and Director of Sales at IMG Artists. Romana wanted to take the opportunity to discuss social media with us "kids" (I turned 20 that day, thus quotations are necessary). Her biggest question was, "Why? Why do I, as someone with 2 kids, a full time job, and an insane schedule, want to spend my free time tweeting and getting on facebook?" She didn't understand our obsession with social media and why she needed to take the time to get on board, which the great debate of the evening.

It started as a simple discussion of what is the purpose of facebook, which got the simple answer, to keep in touch with friends. Of course that is true, but many of us do not use facebook to "keep in touch" but more so to avoid real human contact with our "friends." Our talk quickly took a turn towards the psychology of our generation. Romana made that point that no one picks up the phone and calls anymore, rather we text or facebook each other, avoiding a conversation which has the potential to be awkward. What is the impact of the importance we place on impersonal communication in how we will conduct business? Especially in an industry like the performing arts, which is so centered on networking and personal relationships, as exemplified by Ken Fischer himself. In spite of our discussing, arguing and disagreeing throughout the night, the conversation ended much like it began, questioning the relationship between social media and the arts.

I personally don't know what the future holds for social media. I don't know how artists will evolve and adapt to changing media. I don't know how it will affect how I get a job when I graduate. I don't know how tweet seats will effect the performance experience. But I do know this: I just friend requested Ken Fischer on facebook.

By: Rachel Lum
UMS Intern

APAP 2010

Today, after surviving a treacherous 4:00am drive through the unplowed streets of Ann Arbor, seven students from the University of Michigen flew to to New York City for the Association of Performing Arts Presenters (APAP) Conference. The APAP conference brings together many of it's members for several days of workshops, showcases, and intense networking. APAP's members are the people who coordinate any and all types of the performing arts; they are the agents who books your favorite band to play in your hometown, they are the people who run the staduim which brings you the NCAA championship, and they are the presenter who brings nearly 70 fabulous shows to Ann Arbor every year. And this year UMS is adding several of it's staff members to this mix of everyone in the arts presenting world, including Ken Fischer, Michael Kondziolka, Liz Stover, Claire Rice, and Mary Roeder.

These next few crazy days our seven University of Michigan students, many from UMS, will be recording their experiences here on our student blog, as we soak in this incredible opportuninty, which UMS and APAP are giving us.

By: Rachel Lum
UMS Intern

Welcome Back!

Welcome back to campus everyone and happy new year! I hope you all enjoyed your break as much as I did and are getting ready for our Winter Season, filled with amazing artists!

You're probably asking yourself where you've heard some of the big names of our Winter Season before, well here is a little refresher! You might recognize Bill T. Jones, from the Bill T. Jones/Arnie Zane Dance Company, from his appearance on The Colbert Report, which he was on in December. Ladysmith Black Mambazo might sound familiar because it was referenced in Mean Girls: "But you love Ladysmith Black Mambazo!" And you might have seen Lang Lang, who will be appearing here with the Schleswig-Holstein Festival Orchestra, on Oprah!

If your interested in tickets, remember that starting this Sunday, January 10th we will be having our 1/2 Price Ticket Sale! Go to www.ums.org for more details and to purchase tickets. Or if you simply prefer people to computers and you want to know more about our Winter Season or student ticket options, come visit the UMS Student Advisory Committee on the Diag on January 11th from noon to 4pm! Hope to see you there!

By: Rachel Lum
UMS Intern