I have heard the phrase "Beauty is in the eye of the beholder" my entire life. It reminds me a lot of that other saying "One man’s trash is another man’s treasure." Each person develops an opinion of what they deem to be beautiful.

I am reminded of a recent study where psychologists showed children different drawings of dolls. One doll was Caucasian with blonde hair and blue eyes, the other was Hispanic with darker skin, and the last was African American with the darkest skin tone. The children were asked which doll they thought was the most beautiful. All children, no matter what race they were, chose the Caucasian doll. Not only did this study show how prevalent and influential racism biases still are in this country, it showed how our culture might still be fueling the formation of ideas about beauty.

"The Eye of the Beholder" was the name of an episode in the Twilight Zone where a woman is forced into surgery by authorities to look like everyone else. In horrific resistance to the nurses and doctors calling her abnormal, she tries to escape. The viewer then learns that everyone else is hideously deformed with pig snout noses and other strange facial features. She is finally exiled from this so-called normal looking society to live with a man who has the same "condition" as her. The episode ends as he says to her that "beauty is in the eye of the beholder." This early sixties television was making a social comment on what is still very relevant today.

As disturbing as this sounds, it is not at all surprising why these ideas of beauty have been so deeply ingrained in our minds. Our society comes from a Western heritage. The forefathers of this country were from Europe, a civilization and society evolved from the philosophies of Ancient Greece. The Divine sculptures of the Italian Renaissance were carved in the images of Greek Classicism, exemplifying a refined revision of their ancestor gods, rebirthing and retelling art with the spirit of the same virtue of Aristotle’s beauty, truth, and goodness.

Analyzing the ideas about beauty from the West and the East, is as complicated as analyzing the cultures themselves. Each culture dictates to us what images and behaviors are beautiful and ideal. Within each culture, are subcultures such as class, which may have subtle or extreme versions about these same ideals in images and behavior.

Which institutions and political agendas drive our ideas of beauty today? There seems to be a whole potpourri of conflicting ideologies and agendas influencing what our cultures believes to be virtuous and beautiful. There is the left, the right, or the middle in politics which our society clings to. We associate with Fox News, the NPR, or independent media. Our artistic tastes closely follow. Or do they? Might it be more accurate to say that our intertwined web of practices and preferences are unpredictable, incongruent, inconclusive, and schizophrenic in accordance to our political and moral views? Does contemporary art accurately reflect this chaos and contradiction?

Popular culture and tastes although convoluted, might seem narrow and limited to the educated. A minority of the elite or impoverished may or may not share in these popular tastes. I have always thought of myself having champagne taste on a shoestring budget. Money does not buy class, which I then think brings me back to what is unavoidable and omnipresent by various degrees: culture.

I think the motives for humanity seeking beauty are varied, sometimes shallow and sometimes more profound. Yet, all human beings seek pleasure. It would be my argument that we need pleasure in order to survive. A cat purrs when it feels pleasure. It is in our nature, and art nourishes and enhances this intrinsic need.

It might be more productive at this point to ask what kind of art could universally provide the nourishment of pleasure to humanity in all cultures. Is this possible? We all breathe air, need to eat, and bleed blood. Food is a matter of taste, but we all need it. A beautiful meal leaves us content and satisfied, as art appeals to and permeates through our visual and audible senses.

Ron Fricke’s non-narrative film, Baraka, miraculously captures what is beautiful in the world’s landscapes, cultures, and religious practices through cinematography. The viewer can feel the unity of humanity as he/she is taken on a visual journey to many different places and situations within minutes. While one may not think every place or practice is beautiful, the filmmaker succeeds in his intent to make the viewer appreciate another culture’s visual and audible aesthetic. When we can see someone’s else’s idea of beauty, our own ideas expand. If we are willing to open our eyes to other perspectives, we may discover a beauty we have never known before, even if our initial intent is pure pleasure. We are all the beholders of beauty.

Marisol Tirelli Rivera

I have found myself back at the Whitney Museum studying another classic American painter, Edward Hopper. Although he is very famous, I came in with only a limited knowledge of his work, a vision of Nighthawks, a painting I have seen in virtually every poster store in America for my entire life. I had an expectation of seeing very kitsch cinematic images. I was pleasantly wrong, and Nighthawks was no where to be seen. The exhibit was a collection of his work and that of his contemporaries weaved into the landmark achievements of his life span.

For the most part, I am only drawn to his work, and the other pieces seem token to me. Although, I am happy to compare and contrast Hopper’s work to his close colleague, Charles Burchfield, as they hang next to each other in a collection of Cape Cod and Colonial architectural landscapes. The description on the wall reads: "American scene painting with colleague Charles Burchfield captured the sturdy individualism at the heart of the American ethos, particularly during the hardships of the Great Depression". Hopper’s paintings contrast with dark colors and splotches of light. While Burchfield seems to outline his images in dark colors, Hopper uses his dark colors more for shading and magnifying contrast and perspective. There is more of a spatial contrast in Hopper’s dark colors than in Burchfield’s. However, both of their paintings give me a feeling of American dreaminess and nostalgia.

The next room takes us into more work of Hopper’s contemporaries exemplifying the Industrial Age. Hopper’s work is now focusing on industrial and urban scenes including factories, rooftops, railroads, steamboats, and bridges. While the subjects are not necessarily appealing, his portrayals of them are aesthetically appeasing for the viewer. His architectural images are simple with rich vibrant brick reds and art deco greens, somehow archiving their era of creation.

Dark colors may symbolize the Depression, although Hopper’s use of lighting gives us realistic hope and a sense of an exact time of day or night that is being portrayed in his paintings. He captures interesting moments in places that seem quite ordinary, and exposes hidden beauty and unique cultural details about his subjects and venues. I particularly enjoyed his untitled oil painting on board, Solitary Figure in a Theatre (1902-04) which shows a figure in the front row of a dark theatre. This ambient small painting is done in shades of gray and black. He pays great attention to depth and the mood of seeing a movie alone in a dark theatre. Although his paintings are quite realistic, they are not photographic, and there is a feeling of expressionism.

People may be painted from the back or as a blurr. The images are not exact, but they are very recognizable. This can be seen in his painting Barber Shop (Oil on Canvas, 1931) which shows the movement of the barber as his back is turned to us, and he is shaving his customer. The reflection of his faced is blurred in the mirror, but we see the details of his balding head. The customer appears faceless. The manicurist is sat at the center of the portrait reading a magazine. Her facial features are more in detail, but not distinct. Somehow we know who these people are and what they look like. There are just enough important details to give us this information. We are put into this scene and given an inside look. I am reminiscent of Seurat’s figures on the Island of Grande Jatte, but I can also relate Hopper’s work to that of Rembrandt’s: dark, rich, and filled with shadows.

In Hopper’s A Woman in the Sun (Oil on Canvas, 1961), a woman stands next to her bed in the nude and looks out the window as the sun shines through on the front half of her body. It is the morning, she is smoking a cigarette, and her only apparel seen is her black high heels on the floor. Hopper paints her in details, again not photographic, but we sense the mood and her character through his use of light and shadows. She is a modern Olympia– I see Manet’s influence in his work. The figures are realistic and impressionistic at the same time.

Hopper’s Queensborough Bridge (Oil on Canvas, 1913) is unique in this collection as it is done in light pastel colors. It is impressionistic; the colors are pale, muted, and blurred. The reflection of the bridge in the river is expressed with simple dark gray horizontal brush strokes in contrast to the light gray color of the river. The painting is subtle, simple looking – a harmony of a quiet morning within the Industrial Age.

In contrast, in his painting, Railroad Sunset (Oil on Canvas, 1929), the colors are dark, bright, and bold above a rail road station: dark green over black, medium red to orange to mustard yellow, blending into the blues and greens.

I have discovered beauty in Hopper’s contradictions: the contrasts of dark and light colors, lights and shadows, nature and industry, and details and ambiguity. I can appreciate an influence and evolution of European painting in America, and can now truly admire and respect the American painter, such as Edward Hopper, as classic and iconic in the history of art.

Modern Life: Edward Hopper and His Time exhibit can be seen at the Whitney Museum in New York City until April 10, 2011.

Marisol Tirelli Rivera

As I stepped off the elevator on the third floor of the Whitney Museum, I was immediately greeted with a very large Burchfield watercolor painting of a spring landscape. The first thing I noticed were that the colors were not combinations I would have normally associated with nature in the spring. They were dark and muted. The trees are expressionistic, almost symbolic, like an Asian print. I have to admit, I didn’t get quite "get it" at first, until after I walked into the first room the of the exhibition.

For the first few minutes, I was still overcome with Burchfield’s use of dark colors, in what was supposed to be the beauty of a day in nature, but what was even more striking was the contrast of his expressions of light. Each painting seemed to have a unique portrayal of the sun and the warm, permeating way it lit everything around it. Burchfield had an extreme sensitivity to how light made nature appear and how it made him feel during different seasons, locations, and times of the day or night. It was as though the colors in his paintings moved into a crescendo into a glorious light.

Now my emotions have now evolved into a state similar to what I had over the summer when I saw the exhibit of Monet’s Lilies at the Gagosian Gallery. Monet was an obvious master landscape impressionistic influence, but I am also feeling the sad, but beautiful passionate movement of Van Gogh’s Starry Night in Burchfield’s paint strokes. There is a beautiful gloominess about Burchfield’s work. I could very much feel his perspective in each painting simply from his color choices and the energy of the movement of his brush strokes. The essence of the landscapes and his moods were easily translated. Colors were blended very well, creating unique and wonderful palette combinations. He used abstract, yet recognizable landscape images that succeeded in giving an impressionistic, realistic, and mystical effect all at once.

I was impressed with the way he used his charcoal outlines not only to sketch what was to be under the paint, but to enhance what was already painted. The charcoal outlines were visible and deliberate in many of his paintings. In his watercolor Blue Mountain of Dome, he combined charcoal outlines alongside mounted boards already covered with paint of the continued landscape images. There is a natural connectedness of these charcoal outlines of trees and clouds to its watercolor paint stroked parts. It is a magnificent vivid and equal marriage of light and dark, sketched and painted.

There is a sense of spirituality in Burchfield’s paintings, a continual theme of the light breaking through the darkness. The sun and light possibly represented God and the dark nature represented the sinful nature of man or himself. His journal writings, which were also exhibited alongside his paintings, gave particular insight into his faith and his struggles. His paintings look driven from inspiration, as the light appears to be a representation of his faith.

After seeing the entire exhibit, I am amazed by the excellent skill and use of different paint mediums. Burchfield was in no doubt a master of watercolors, but his use of gouache and oil paints were equivalently efficient. His earlier works were more flat and representational, but still included a sense of American nostalgia. All in all, I believe his paintings are timeless classics, and his interpretive use of light and colors are quite noteworthy. He was a master of recreating light though specific moments, seasons, and scales of emotions. With similarities to Monet and Van Gogh, he has a modern American feel, with all the training and versatility of his predecessors.

Marisol Tirelli Rivera

A few weeks ago, my husband and I took a day trip to the Lakota Wolf Preserve in Columbia, New Jersey. The preserve rests on Camp Taylor, just minutes from the Delaware Water Gap and the Pocono Mountains of Pennsylvania. It is owned by Dan and Pam Bacon and Jim Stein. They have three different types of wolves that include the Timber, Tundra, and Arctic wolves. They also have two adorable foxes and three bobcats. Each pack and group of animals has their own fenced-in space that is more generous and humane than any in any zoo. The wolves have plenty of space to run, play with each other, and act like wolves, while still being protected.

As we began the tour, we were given information and facts about the nature of the wolf. Since it is a hot East Coast summer, the wolves had shed their luscious coats, looking a little like skinny coyotes. However, they were a perfect weight and quite larger than a coyote, husky, or a malamute dog. I immediately noticed that they behaved just like dogs, as they were panting and excited to see us (actually, their caretaker/pack leader, Jim, who had treats for them). Jim told us that they feed the wolves roadkill from the area, mostly deer meat.

Jim informed us about his preservation efforts along with interesting insights, such as wolves actually want to stay away from humans, and there only being one incident in the United States of a wolf attacking a man. I asked Jim what his inside knowledge was about the hunting of wolves in Alaska, and he said that the horror stories we hear about aerial hunting of wolves and their baby pups are true and unfortunately quite active today because of their state policies. (Thank you, Sarah Palin.) The reason behind all this hunting of wolves in Alaska is that the wolves are supposedly killing all their caribou (moose, deer, etc.), which are desired for the decadent and profit-making sport of hunting for the state. The irony is that these hunters justify killing all this caribou because of their overpopulation, especially in industrialized areas. So if there is an overpopulation of moose, why not let the natural predator (the wolf) take care of this situation as a natural part of the ecosystem? Contrary to claims that there is an overpopulation of Alaskan wolves, wolves are actually an endangered species in the United States. To reiterate, wolves want to stay away from men, and they are a natural predator of caribou. But, where there is an overpopulation of caribou, there is an abundance of expensive hunting licenses granted, contributing to the state’s economy.

In all honesty, men do not want to stay away from wolves. We have a natural fascination toward them. They have a mystical reputation. How we love the stories of werewolves and vampires. All this has nothing to do with the true nature of the wolf. They are timid, loyal, and intelligent animals. Yes, they are powerful and can be ferocious toward their prey or threat. They are wild. But, when you look in their eyes, you see wisdom, strength, and gentleness all at the same time. As I looked into the eyes of a black wolf, his gaze penetrated into my soul. I had a feeling of healing as I saw his strength and wisdom. I also wanted to pet him, but that, I have to admit, would be dangerous. I am attracted to this bad boy. He is dangerous and unpredictable, yet gentle and sweet. Don’t we all love that?

Our tour ended with a symphony of howls from all four packs of wolves all at the same time. The sound reminded me of a Native American flute. It was peaceful, spiritual, and very soothing. We were told to howl along with them. I felt connected to them. We are connected to each other.

Marisol Tirelli Rivera

For the past two months, I have been completely engrossed in the writing of Galileo: A New Musical, which premiered for the first time as part of the West Village Musical Theatre Festival.  

The musical starts out in a congressional hearing of conservative Senators interrogating NASA scientist Dr. John Holden on climate change research as they mock the existence of global warming with an aggressively sharp and witty choral piece, Junk Bunk, music and lyrics written by my collaborator and music genius composer James Behr. In a moment of this overwhelming stir, Dr. Holden transforms into the famous astronomer Galileo Galilei. The play then shifts and unravels into parallels of haunting similarities of social, political, and religious ideologies and attitudes toward science and progressiveness.

I was fortunate enough to have a cast of outstanding actors for last week’s festival. Paul Fraccalvieri, who played Picasso in a musical piece I had written this past November, played Dr. Holden and Galileo. Fraccalvieri eloquently filled the theatre with his deep, rich baritone voice while playing a believable, emotionally vulnerable Galileo. (Congratulations, Paul, for winning an honorable mention for best actor in Galileo for the festival!) Members of the Senate also doubled up their roles. The Sarah Palin-like senator, played by Jennifer Eden, hilariously began the chant of the ever-famous "drill, baby, drill," then transformed into Galileo’s lovely mistress, Marina, in a beautiful duet, Through These Eyes (music by Behr and lyrics by Behr, Cheryl Krebs, and myself) that would make any soprano green with envy. Eden’s voice mixed perfectly with Fraccalvieri’s, adding a dimension of birds flying through the heavens as her high pitches were perfectly layered with the spiritual emotion of the song.

Other ensemble senators also doubled as Renaissance clergymen. Gospel singer Justine Hall (Madame Chair/Clergy), Samantha Moorin (Court Reporter, Artist and Scribe), and Madeleine Thompson (Strong Clergy Soprano) added animated expressions and powerful voices to the ensemble. Paul Mischeshin hilariously played a Southern John Edwards-type of senator which paralleled nicely as Pope Urban’s "special" clergyman who had to kiss his feet upon demand. Pope Urban (Ben Prayz) and his clergyman (Mischeshin) have a comedic few scenes in between the music pieces of the play that lighten up the heavy message by poking fun at the corruptness of the church. Both proved themselves to be fine character actors as well as leads.

We could not have had such a tight ensemble without the brilliant direction of Stephen Wisker, who created an atmosphere of ease and humor and brought a passion for politics and the environment. Stephen and I spoke nearly everyday, analyzing the play and voicing ideas about how to better express current events such as the disastrous BP oil spill. Stephen had an image of black oil spilling all over a white stage. If only we could have pulled it off in the festival setting. With his background at the Living Theatre, this could have embossed an historic image. He is also a master of Shakespeare and handled the language of the play (particularly the prose of the Renaissance scenes) with utmost subtlety.

Thank you, everyone, again for a superb performance! We look forward to our upcoming process of revisiting the script and performing cast recordings and then hopefully getting the message out there in the world again. We must not stop until political action is taken, alternative fuel sources are underway, and humanity and wildlife can be protected.

Cast from left to right: Madeleine Thompson, Justine Hall, Jennifer Eden, Paul Fraccalvieri, Ben Prayz, Paul Mischeshin, and Samantha Moorin.

Marisol Tirelli Rivera

For the month of October, I was involved in a musical theatre writing lab in New York City (produced by Michael Roderick of Small Pond Entertainment), where book writers, composers, and lyricists were asked to randomly pick two names out of a hat to collaborate on the writing of two ten-minute musicals. Within three weeks, we were to present our work in an industry showcase reading at Chelsea Studios. In our meetings that led up to this, we were enlightened by panels of seasoned Off-Broadway composers and book writers that gave us tips and advice about the business and our collaborative process.

From the moment we started, I was frantically swept into a whirlwind writing frenzy of this "Project Runway-esk" musical theatre challenge, coming up with lines, story, and lyrics ideas, usually spinning in my mind at around 3 a.m. I was fortunate enough to be paired with two very talented composer-singer-songwriters, Allison Tartalia and Anne Mironchik. My first piece with Allison was the beginning of a rock and pop musical with dark and sexy overtones. The second piece with Anne was a swinging cocktail of authentic jazz and modern art.

When it came time to showcase all the musicals, Heidi Klum would have had a hard time proclaiming who was in and who was out. From the clever and catchy stories of Seth Bisen-Hersh and Michael DiGaetano, to Melanie Weinstein's hilarious one-woman show, to Michael Roderick and Mark Weiser's poignant educational theatre piece, no one would have had to pack up their knives or clean up their work stations. Tim Gunn and Tom Colicchio would have been proud. Stay tuned and look out for the names of these talented musical theatre artists—coming soon to an Off-Off, Off, or Broadway theatre near you.

Marisol Tirelli Rivera

This past April, I was fortunate enough to be involved in the filming of an instructional documentary workshop (directed by Andrew Shemin) that taught me about the relationship between actors, audiences, and their nervous systems. I was one of four NYU Educational Theatre graduates working as an experimental actor in this workshop facilitated by BioArt Theatre Laboratories founder Madeleine Barchevska.

Although I have two degrees in theatre, I have to admit I was pretty nervous when I was told that I would be participating in an acting workshop that would involve working with science and my nervous system. 

"What in the world does science have to do with acting?" I thought. 

While I was in conservatory, I had done some pretty freaky, intense acting techniques that included Strasberg's method: like imagining I was in saunas to the point where I was ready to pass out or drinking invisible martinis to "drive my behaviorial action" in a scene. My anxiety level rose as I prayed we wouldn't have to engage in transcendental meditation where I would have to leave my body and watch it do a scene with a fellow actor.

To my relief, this was nothing of the sort. Ms. Barchevska was very kind and calm, unlike the "Mommy Dearest" acting teachers I've experienced in the past. Her BioArt technique focuses on human perception and innate social skills. If an actor can effectively use her nervous system, she will successfully be able to connect and engage the nervous systems of her audience. Many of the exercises that Ms. Barchevska took us through brought us to a place she calls "neutrality." I've experienced a state in my body similar to this as a dancer, only it was called "being in your center." Imagine how useful it would be to achieve neutrality in our daily lives, whether you are a savvy business person, teacher, performer, or just someone in a relationship. Ms. Barchevska taught me that effective communication comes from a calm and neutral place, not out of the common societal hustle and bustle reaction — what she quotes as the "fight or flight" response. It is no wonder so many of us are running around with unhealthy stress levels affecting all areas of our lives.

After our two-day shoot, I felt extraordinarily calm and collected. It was a sense of control that did not have tension, but a deep sense of peace and fulfillment. I felt like I was able to "just be" without going haywire with my worries and concerns about the past and future. In acting, they call that "being in the moment," which is the aim of every performer.

I find Ms. Barchevska's work valuable to the teacher, artist, and student. While applied theatre is the vehicle to social, individual, and community change, learning about the engine or our nervous systems while driving this process of change is key to effective communication, healing, enlightenment, and experiencing pure enjoyment from this creative process.

If you are interested in learning more about this work, please visit Ms. Barchevska's website at http://www.bioarttheatrelabs.com/.

Marisol Tirelli Rivera