For a total book lover and aspiring writer such as myself, having the chance to spend time with and trade pieces of work with such legendary authors as F. Scott Fitzgerald and Ernest Hemingway would be the ultimate fan encounter. Thanks to Woody Allen’s latest masterpiece, Midnight in Paris, like-minded moviegoers have the opportunity to get a glimpse of what that might be like as well as experience a hearty dose of the Roaring Twenties: Paris-style.

Gil, played by Owen Wilson, is a successful screenwriter with a higher literary calling. Despite reaching the epitome of success by film industry standards, he has grown tired of being a “Hollywood hack” and wants to turn his attention to the roots of his craft. With this is mind, Gil sets out to do what so many of his predecessors have attempted: write the next, all-too-elusive “Great American Novel”.

However, as all writers and artists know, inspiration is a fickle thing and it is often very hard to come by. Gil’s situation is no different. No matter what he does, it seems as though his muse has left him without so much as a decent plot-line. If only he could speak to the figures of the past that he adores so much, maybe then he would finally stumble upon a kernel of genius and be well on his way to following in their footsteps.

One night, as his fiancée dances with friends, Gil loses his way and finds himself stumbling through the streets of Paris in a part of town where it seems as though no one speaks English. Just as he is about to resign himself to his misfortune, the clock strikes midnight and his life changes forever. Barreling out of the darkness comes an antique car filled to bursting with a gang of merry, 1920’s-style partygoers. They coerce him into joining them and the adventure begins.

Suddenly, Gil finds himself in time long ago: Cole Porter provides background music, the eccentric, yet well-meaning Fitzgerald’s socialize, and Ernest Hemingway himself squirrels away the never-ending night armed with a glass of whiskey and a leather-bound notebook. It is here the Gil finally begins to understand what his novel-and by extension, his life- lacks.

Every night, at the stroke of midnight, the car comes for Gil and sweeps him back into this fairytale world where he learns the sad truth that, no matter who you are or where (or when) you are from, the grass will always seem greener on the other side.

Allen’s colorful if not nostalgically hazy representation of life for the “Lost Generation”, as Hemingway once referred to it, contrasts sharply with the beige-colored realm inhabited by Gil’s fiancée, Inez (Rachel McAdams), her parents, and her friends. Whereas Gil’s nights are smoky and loud, his days are filled with endless museum tours. On one particular occasion, Gil shocks everyone with his intimate knowledge of one of Picasso’s works- one that, in fact, he had just seen the artist himself perfecting the night before.

An encounter with Picasso’s beautiful mistress leads Gil to wonder where he really belongs, but he finds himself shocked to discover that she asks herself the same question. Despite living in what Gil considers to be the greatest time period, she has convinced herself that life would be better in France’s Belle Époque era which she considers to be the “Golden Age”.

This film, with its picturesque cinematography and bouncing, evocative score transports the audience right alongside Gil to a time that is widely fantasized. It also does an excellent job of introducing the audience to the extraordinary city that is Paris. The opening montage of the city’s rainy streets is breathtaking and gorgeous, making even the most cynical person want to book a ticket to the next flight to the City of Lights.

Beyond all of that, however, is a touching commentary on nostalgia and the value of the rosy views of the past so many hold. Allen’s message is that, too often, we spend so much time looking back with fond eyes at what used to be and wonder if life was better in any other time but ours. While it is important to always remember our heritage, we need to realize that the people back then had the same troubles that we have now. Their lives were not perfect no matter how much they are idealized today. Instead, we should focus on and be grateful for what we have here in this millennium. If everyone were to life that way, perhaps the 2000’s- our time- would become a truly Golden Age.

The way artists mold and reshape memories and sentiments into canvases is incredible. The idea of making a mental image a vivid reality flourishes in the hands of Frida Kahlo. It’s not only the way this magnificent Mexican artist combines orange and yellow to make the skin of her subjects appear highlighted against the rest of the composition, but the way she paints faces in a way that embodies the emotion she is trying to conceive –and this purpose is clearly accomplished.

Frida Kahlo was a painter in the 50’s whose creations reflected her inner feeling and outer experiences. She, unlike most famous artists who painted what was happening in their era or what happened before their time, composed masterpieces based on the sturdy, sagacious woman she was. There is no socially constructed perspective in her painting; however, she mastered the capacity of blending surrealistic art with controversial distinctiveness, thus attracting an audience whose artistic desire was dying to be resurrected. She was a woman, a sister, a niece, a daughter, a woman who loved men, a woman who loved women, a woman who loved men who love women too much, and a woman whose womanhood and capacity to create from her own was shattered by a malicious accident. This was the event that transformed her life, and the life of her art.

In the composition of her painting, Henry Ford Hospital, the results of her atrocious accident are perceived in the unique style that only Kahlo has the power of emanating. This is an elaborated composition based on the reality that begun as a forming, self-depended woman, and followed her to her grave as an obsolete object; it is her memoirs on a canvas. Her background is a sky with mixed tones of pink and green –not quite harmonious as any other daytime visual imagine. It evokes a sense of the impending storms that overwhelmed her melancholic reality. Toward the middle, extended across her evolving symphony of agonistic reality, is a jungle of metal and straight lines. Kahlo composed an inoperative factory; machinery that no longer fulfills its duties and can no longer functions properly. This image represents herself and her inability to reproduce and produce the one thing she desires the most: a child of her own. Her original background, Mexico, a paradise, serves and an understanding of the way she was raised. Colors and sounds of purity and bliss invaded her surroundings; thus, by incorporating this rigid atmosphere into her composition, the audience understands the juxtaposition of her reality and her memories. And after having imposed a sense of solitude into the viewer, the bottom of her artwork, which constituted of an ominous greenish, yellowish color or dirty and sterile miserable ground, lets out the true identity of this masterpiece: an unfathomable sorrow.

The surrounding setting showcases the Mona Lisa of this creation. There she lies on a bed of elegant bloody pedals, surrounded by six elements of dubious aspect, which escape from her hand, giving the idea that it is out of her reach the possibility of changing her reality. On top of her bed, a floating fetus appears which gives an explanation to her sanguinary surrounding: this is the life she desperately intends to create, but it keeps vanishing from her crushed, mourning body. Perhaps, this was the masterpiece, the piece of herself she wanted to leave in this world as a memorial of who she was, but instead, canvases were painted. On the top, we observe a gray snail –this is an animal known for its sluggish motion, which is a clear interpretation of the dawdling, excruciating, even dishonorable process of her abortion. On the bottom right, a cracked, creepy looking pelvis creates her view of what kind of rustic artifact she was trying to operate with. Leading, then, to a withered purple orchid, once again demonstrating her anguished desire to create life, which is formed and evolves up to a certain point where destiny keeps denying its possibility of a full external existence. Kahlo paints a metallic instrument along with natural object to create the contrast of the living and the dead, of what is God-made and handmade, of what is planned to exist and what is pushed into existence. Lastly, a woman’s abdominal apparatus is shown in the upper left corner. The base of life, the Holy Grail of ultimate accomplishment for a woman is to bring life into this; therefore, if a woman were not able to fulfill this atmospheric demand of society, she was useless. This immaculate figure of fountain of life is illustrated in her perspective of a woman’s torso.

This is the saddest piece she’s ever done. This absolutely astonishing creation relates the tale of a reality brutally dictated to a woman whose capability to describe it was at its finest. Her pain was vast, but she disguised it behind a curtain of polemical yet artificial security and paint. We can never underestimate what an artist is really trying to say, to scream. This woman was a true genius, both for her ability to manifest and explore and idea at it maximum potential and the way she silently suffered for her inability to exhale life. Destiny has mysterious ways of showing us what we are made for.

The photograph ‘Tranquility’ has many aesthetic elements that make it an enjoyable piece of art. The photo was taken by Stanley Prophitt in 2006 at Cade’s Cove which is a trail inside the Great Smoky Mountains National Park located in Tennessee. It was printed with the dimensions of 16x24 and hangs inside the Prophitt family home. The photo’s contrasting colors, focus point, depth and many other artistic elements sends a message of uttermost ecstasy in the vast world of nature. These elements also give an insight to the tranquil existence of nature and mirrors what the human race should in theory consist of.

The color and texture contrast is a very noticeable element in the photograph. One of the most notable elements of the photo, is the rich green luster of the foliage contrasting with the soft white luminosity of the peaceful stream water. Many variations of the colored green trees makes the forrest seem inviting and mystical, while the blurred white river mimics innocent power of mother nature. White, which is noticeably seen in the stream is commonly associated with peace, while green, seen in the forrest is grouped with labels such as well-being, fertility and balance. Surrounding the river is a large amount of foliage which appears rough and undefined, while the river seems to be in a rhythmic flow. This shows that these two different textures can morph together to make a visually appealing sight. The stream in the photograph seems to gently glide through the vast green foliage of the Smoky Mountains, which also represents how nature has an integral nirvana within itself.

‘Tranquility’ was taken with a slow shutter speed to capture the gentle but fast paced movement of the Smoky Mountain water. The vanishing point of the stream was placed towards the back right of the picture to fall in the lines of the widely used rule of thirds. The eye of the viewer is automatically drawn to the vanishing point and there is a curious desire to investigate the remainder of the stream. The water sifts over and around the large rocks without hindrance and insinuates a moral of overcoming obstacles and the vital process of moving forward not backwards. The photo shows how everything has its own designated place and how everything goes together like magic.

The various light and dark spots in the canopy, above the stream, coincides with the light and dark times throughout anyone’s life. Also, the stream signifies life’s renewal by the constant flow of fresh water. Along the sides of the river, are lines that draw the viewers eye to the vanishing point in the middle right of the photo. Above the stream, is an ample amount of tree space that reveals the complexity of the woods, which makes the stream seem simple and balances the composition. The perspective the photo was taken at, makes the stream seem as if it is going to flow off of the picture. The stream gradually gets larger as the pictures goes downward.

‘Tranquility’ is without a doubt a magnificent work of art, but it also deeply speaks about the core of human nature and the inner workings of the raw, untamed world. The photos exposure, rich colors, perspective and its uncut state makes it beautiful and appealing to any viewer’s eye. There are so many details in the photo that make it meaningful and morally sound. This work of art is much more than a well taken photo, it is a frozen moment of time that paints a crystal clear example of a harmonious life and the true foundation of tranquility.

“I shut my eyes and all the world drops dead, /I lift my lids and all is born again.”- Sylvia Plath. While studying my critique piece, I have concluded that I no longer exist in black and white. I remember that all of the shapes blended into one another and tiny film grains sprinkled across my vision like an old-fashioned movie. The walls which surrounded me were cinder-block and frozen, and the ceiling hung so low my breath came out jagged and quick, in my claustrophobia. I was vulnerable in black and white.

I imagine that being caged in black and white was a piece of writer Sylvia Plath’s tortured reality. Although she was successful, physically attractive, and brilliantly talented, Plath existed in ubiquitous darkness. I believe that the art piece I have chosen to critique masterfully portrays this tragedy through watercolor and mixed media.

This Sylvia Plath portrait, entitled, “Lady Lazarus,” was done by artist Acey Thompson. Although it is primarily watercolor, the top right-hand corner is an actual black and white photograph of Plath, stitched to the remainder of the piece. Upon first my glance at “Lady Lazarus,” I noticed the impeccable resemblance to the writer. I marvel at the technical accuracy that has been achieved in such a surreal quality. The colors chosen are subdued yet alive, dripping down the eerie facsimile of the famous Plath image. The watercolor media accomplishes this effect quite well. Thompson used light and dark values in a more abstracted way, while still attaining realistic detail. The mood of “Lady Lazarus” is haunting.

“Is there no way out of the mind?” -Sylvia Plath. Upon reflecting on my experience in the black and white, my movement was stiff and robot-like. I was made of glass or porcelain, caged and breakable. When the entire world carried on, I stood still. My surroundings fell silent, but I would never rest. There was still static crackling in my ears, a rustling within my core. Black and white is insomnia.

I regard Thompson’s piece highly, as both a visual artist and an admirer of Plath’s phenomenon. This artwork commands attention from both artistic and literary perspectives. I believe that “Lady Lazarus” is a brilliant appreciation of Plath’s work and a somber reflection on her life. The emotions that burst forth when I study this piece are deep admiration; for both Thompson and Plath, sadness, and even a sense of yearning. This piece has moved me to create my own Sylvia portrait, in all of her physical beauty, set in black and white.

There are certain aspects of the work, such as the running paint, the stitching, and the black and white photo, which the artist intended as symbolism. As I stated earlier, I believe this piece masterfully depicts the tragedies of Sylvia Plath’s personal life. The symbolism of her earthly hell comes into play with this. The artist chose to work in a slightly unruly manner to achieve an imperfect, frenetic look.

“Lady Lazarus” has intrinsic value and worth because it is a form of tribute for the brilliant and influential American author and poet, Sylvia Plath. It is visually appealing, unique, and technically well done. I know the piece has affected me, as well as other artists and Plath readers. The phrase, “eyes can tell a story,” comes to mind. I believe that this portrait not only tells a story, but shares a world of beauty and strife.

John Frederick Lewis’s painting, A Lady Receiving Visitors (The Reception), is nothing more than just a painting of an exotic household; at least that is what I thought when I first saw The Reception in my friend’s art history book. As I continued to look at the oil on panel painting, I became more and more fascinated with the intricate details of Lewis’s painting. Lewis paints of a lady lounging in her Egyptian-styled, mosaic-rich home. The lady’s wealth is apparent with the display of richness in decoration of her room and the many servants that are attending to her.

The painting is obviously centered on the elegant lady in a main chamber of a room. As she lounges on an upholstered divan, her servants are all facing her. In the reflecting pool, the image of her is echoed across the bottom of the painting. Not only are the servants and the reflecting pool focused on the lady, but most of the line-shaped items, such as the pattern of the floor and the wall moldings, of the room are directed towards the lady as well. The use of warm and cool colors brings Lewis’s painting to life. The orange colors that permeate the room suggest warmth in the outside air, and the blue of the upholstered divan suggests coolness of the lady’s environment. By looking at The Reception, you can feel the coolness of the room on a hot summer day. The form of the room captures the wealth of the whole room and the direct perspective on the lady. The décor of the room in which the lady resides is great in detail as if displaying her wealth, from the complex sunlit window designs to the elaborate ceiling pattern. A gazelle, also present in the chamber of the lady, is another indication of the lady’s wealth. Gazelles were popular domestic pets in the upper-Egyptian homes and were also seen as symbol of female beauty. (USAD, 86)

The wealth of the lady compares to the wealth of the details in Lewis’s painting style. In The Reception, the details of the room are crucial to the painting’s story. Through his painting, Lewis is able to document a culture that the average British viewer would never see. (USAD, 85) Lewis’s details on the painting are so precise and perfect that his brush strokes are not seen and the painting appears to be a photograph. Lewis’s main focus of the details in the painting helps viewers to comprehend the wealth and significance of the lady. It was said that most of Lewis’s paintings chronicled his travels in North Africa. (Burgess) Did he know or meet this great lady? Maybe she was receiving Lewis as a visitor? One detail, however, is not fixed with reality. As Emily Weeks notes, the lady is placed in the mandarah, or an area of the house that primarily reserved for men, not women, in Muslim culture. (USAD, 86) Lewis traveled abroad for many years in North Africa and even lived in Cairo for ten years. (Burgess) He should have known this fact, suggesting that he purposely placed this lady in the mandarah as a statement against the social order and the ill-treatment of women in the area. Then again, Lewis could have placed this lady in the mandarah to dignify the culture in which he was said to have “gone native.” (USAD, 85) Painted in 1873, during the rise of the British Empire, content in The Reception would have surprised British viewers. (Burgess) At that time, it is known that the British looked down on the cultures that were oppressed by their imperialism. In any case, it is apparent in this painting that the lady is highly regarded.

This art piece is not just a painting of an exotic house in some far away distant land. A prolonged look at John Frederick Lewis’s A Lady Receiving Visitors (The Reception), sparks curiosity of a story about an affluent lady living in a grandeur home who is going against the conventional perspectives of Lewis’s audience. With vivid color, fine details and beautiful form, Lewis helps his viewers to better understand and to see his perspective of this lady’s story and the culture that he loved.

Works Cited

Burgess, Sally. "Biography of John Frederick Lewis." The Victorian Web. N.p., 10 Feb. 2008. Web. 30 Oct. 2011. http://www.victorianweb.org/painting/lewis/index.html.

Lewis, John F. A Lady Receiving a Visitor (The Reception). 1873. Rowland High School Academic
Decathlon Blog. Web. 27 Oct. 2011. http://blogs.rowlandhs.org/groups/academicdecathlon/revisions/c8faa/2/.

United States Academic Decathlon (USAD),. "Selected Work: A Lady Receiving a Vistor (The Reception), John Frederick Lewis, 1873." 2011-2012 Art Resource Guide: Art and Imperial Power (2011): 84-86. Print.

Very few artists can say that they have captured the true feeling of music in their art. Even fewer can say they have captured music as beautifully as the Belarusian impressionist Leonid Afremov in his painting, Blue Rhapsody. With his paint, Leonid creates a vibrant word of sound and color all swirling around the main subject of his painting, a beautiful Cellist lost in her music.

She is graceful and poised, gently caressing the neck of her instrument. Her face is peaceful yet passionate as the bow in her hand moves across taught strings, leaving an enchanted melody in it's wake.

We see this musician's music through her own eyes. Depicted in vivacious color and artful strokes, harmonious melodies radiate from the cellist as her passion fills the painting in hues of crimson, indigo, emerald, and violet. When looking at the work harder, we find that it is not only music that Afremov has managed to capture, it is love as well. This is the love that colors our world.

The emotion in Blue Rhapsody is powerful as you gaze at the Cellist. In the way she holds herself, her serene eyes, and sure fingers, onlookers can tell that the cellist is playing from her heart. Emotion that potent on a canvas is almost entrancing as it captures your attention and stirs something deep within us. Although not everyone has a love of music, we as humans all have something that makes us passionate. This is why we can relate to the cellist in Blue Rhapsody. It is not merely her beauty, it is the power of her pose that touches our hearts.

Blue Rhapsody is a painting that speaks, not only in color, but in power and emotion as well. Leonid Afremov has an amazing way of capturing the sheer joy of being alive. When I look at this painting I feel uplifted and inspired. Blue Rhapsody by Leonid Afremov is, by far, my favorite work of art.

Rhythm, it pulses through the soul, like the dying pulse of a broken heart. “We could have had it all, rolling in the deep….”in her 2011 award-winning music video, Rolling in the Deep, directed by Sam Brown, Adele sings these words in mournful tones. The story of Rolling in the Deep is of a shattered, romantic relationship. Adele, sitting in an empty room, cries out to her lost lover. Over the span of six settings, masterful cinematography is utilized to pull together a piece which demonstrates everything from the heart being broken to the feeling of raging depression which often follows.

The first of these settings features Adele sitting in an empty room, calling out, “There’s a fire starting in my heart, reaching a fever pitch.” The room is desolate, appearing to be part of an abandoned old English manor. Every detail within the room has been carefully attended to by the set designer. The white ceiling has carvings which invite the viewer to touch, to feel. Meanwhile, a crème-colored sheet is held against the wall behind Adele with black tape applied at odd angles. However, instead of being a smooth expanse of paper, it has been carefully creased in various places, which creates a surface that contrasts with the silky texture of Adele’s hair and skin. As she sits alone in the room, she cries out for her lost lover, telling him what he is missing.

But, is he listening to the cries? No, her lover is beneath the stairs on the bottom floor, keeping his own time. As the camera zooms in, the viewer sees that not only is the man in Adele’s video playing the drums, but with each strike of the drum sticks, he is creating electricity. Sparks fly through a light-bulb dangling not far above his drum-set. This creates an intense play of light and dark throughout the scene as the flashing light reflects off of the metal of the drum set and is absorbed by the surrounding “dark corners.”

However, the “dark corners” are not the only part of the house absorbing the frustration of Adele’s lover. At least one hundred water glasses sit upon the second-floor landing of the abandoned home and are packed so tightly that not one more could be fit between them. Vibrating, the water within the glasses ripples, but never overflows. Rhythmic pulsing is shown visually here. The effect is so strong, that without music, one can still seem to hear and feel the beat inside one’s heart.

“Think of me in the depths of your despair, making a home down there as mine sure won’t be shared.” Bewildered, each lover asks themselves what has happened, where their love has gone. One lover scorns the other, devastating the relationship. The other partner remains, not picking up the pieces, but throwing them against a board like china plates. In the video, plates “crash” against a white board forming an ever-growing pile at its base. These, too, create a visual beat. There is a reason why the director used a board to throw the china at and not the wall. Because it is flimsy, the board shakes, leaving the viewer with a more intensified feeling of sound. When a heart breaks in two, it first quivers, twists and then screams. This is what the director has successfully emulated here: the visual sound of a breaking heart.

This beat creates a backdrop for the fight which constitutes the last throes of a dying relationship; each individual partner attempting to salvage what is left of their hearts. In a later setting within Rolling in the Deep, a ninja-esque figure fights with itself, like a man fighting his own heart. The figure dances within a fog of white dust that lay in heaps upon the floor of the bare room. Clear plastic lines the walls, picking up the flow of the dust. The setting is electrified by blue-ish light emitting from a set of long, fluorescent bulbs placed along the top of the back wall. Swirling amidst the dust, the ninja appears to float as though in a dance, lost in the atmosphere. Like someone fighting with their own heart, the ninja seems incapable of seeing through the mist to determine a valid answer. Each romantic partner is left alone, lost in the dust, attempting to cut the other out of all memory.

Only fire is capable of such destruction, erasing all points of reference for a wandering traveler. At last, Adele and her partner are severed from each other completely as a miniature city skyline formed of white shapes burns to the ground. All reference points, all chance meetings, and all loving memories are erased from the mind as Adele wails: “You had my heart and soul” . . . yet beneath this there is a chanting: “Now I’m gonna wish you never had met me.” By saying “never had met me,” she has taken the steps to removing the very being of her lost lover from recall.

The film ends in a myriad of these shots, racing ever faster to the end of the line where Adele takes the volume of her voice from fortissimo to piano, from exceedingly loud to soft, like a heart which has finally given up, moved on, and finished verbalizing its reaction. So often in a music video, multiple plotlines are utilized, a kind of flash effect that leaves the viewer with an overall feeling instead of a plotline. It works quite effectively, cutting out the length of time that a true story would demand. Rolling in the Deep pairs rich textures, a cool blue-white lighting, and a driving rhythm beneath it all to evoke the process of a breaking heart from beginning to end. It is the director’s, Sam Brown’s, ability to take these scenes entirely out of context and create something which is not only coherent, but exceptionally poignant, that makes this music video a cinematic masterpiece.

As mellow acoustics spill out the speakers and Bob Marley’s voice fills the room, a sense of peace is created. Bob Marley’s music has the ability to uplift every spirit, and inspire every soul. The four discs set, Songs of Freedom, is the epitome of his true artistic talent. The sounds created through such a heartfelt series, engages every listener. It is a handbook to life, a preview of the future, and a reality check on the present. Bob Marley’s influences through the Songs of Freedom collection reach beyond his Jamaican roots. The words sung by the lyrical genius can inspire, teach, and touch the hearts of every demographic.

The emotional attributes of the human race are what make art that much more powerful. The ability of artists to exude their inner selves, stories, and experiences through, art, dance, poetry, fashion, and music, while reaching an array of generations and cultures is a skill that could never be taught. For this reason Bob Marley’s Songs of Freedom triggers a passion and understanding of life. He effortlessly used this collection as a diary of his personal thoughts and knowledge through his time of existence. Each disc contains aspects easily related to any listener. The first track on disc number one, Judge Not, demonstrates how he too feels the judgment society puts on civilians. Whether you are from the rural area or the inner city, scrutiny is something everyone can relate to. College students, mothers, entrepreneurs, artists, and politicians each take on different roles in the general public, but each must face criticism or some form of hate through their decisions and course of work. Listening to Judge Not Marley’s opinion and experience on judgment is evident. The song adds to the series and its authenticy.

The impeccable thing about the Songs of Freedom disc set is that there is at least one song that is applicable to every life style. If not applicable it, it is capable of showing a new perspective on life. Get Up Stand Up a track on the second disc is Bob Marley’s attempt to encourage people to stand up for what they believe in. He wrote the piece during a time of oppression in his hometown in Jamaica. People were not accepting of his Rastafarian religion. Tired of the hatred Get Up Stand Up was born. In a world full of injustice, inequality, and corruption to say the least, it is difficult to stand up for what is right, but Bob Marley voiced his feelings and hateful experiences by expressing his beliefs on the matter through music. Every individual however is not born with nobleness or bravery to speak out against the follies of society. Get Up Stand Up gives a different approach to music and what it has the power to do. The track inspired many to stand up for what they believed in, an effect never before created through a simple song. In Bob Marley’s case however, an anthem was created.

The purpose of the collection is to convey positive messages, through stories and personal beliefs. The artistic components of it however do not end there. In fact what makes Songs of Freedom so eclectic is the union of powerful lyrics and euphonious instrumentals. Guitars, saxophones, drums, and pianos are the instruments that make up the Ska Genre. Ska is the combination of calypso, jazz, and r&b. The combination of these instruments and genres is unheard of and unique to the traditional sound of reggae. Each track in Songs of Freedom is so crisp that if someone closed his eyes and listened to the collection, he would instantly become overwhelmed with the sensation the sound induces. One of Bob Marley’s most famous pieces Who Shot the Sheriff is included in the disc set. The song is sung live, and it still has the same power as a studio recorded record. Redemption Song is another single in the collection recorded live; the album is composed of so much variety and equipped with so much power, that even after fifty years of it being recorded it evokes the same emotions and opinions.

In addition one of the most admirable things about the Songs of Freedom disc set is the passion Bob Marley expresses for his music. He doesn’t verbally say “I love music,” however he doesn’t have to. The emotions and patterns in the tone of his voice as he sings, forces the listener to empathize with him. I’m Hurting Inside is not only a record that goes back to his ability to relate to his fans, but it also allows his fans to understand him and what he has been through. As he sings the chorus “I’m hurting, I’m hurting,” his voice shakes as he says “hurting.” The emphasis on the word is important because the song is ultimately based on his pain and cry for happiness. The way Bob Marley purposely stresses and shakes his vocal cords as he sings is artistic in a sense that he doesn’t just want the audience to hear him; he wants them to feel him as well. This type of passion and innovative perspective on music is truly breathtaking.

Songs of Freedom as a unit isn’t just a collection of music. It is a piece of art forever playing in the rooms of young girls and boys, country nightclubs, suburban bars, Grandma’s dusty record player, and most importantly the streets of Saint Anne Parish, Jamaica the hometown of the extraordinary musician. Half a century later and Songs of Freedom continues to touch generation after generation. To Bob Marley’s charismatic stories with hidden messages, to the alluring acoustics that tickle the soul, Songs of Freedom is an album that can never be duplicated. It is what music as an art form is truly summed up to be, and it will live on forever.

In Night Life, created in 1943 with oil on canvas, Archibald Motley Jr. depicts the vivid movement fused in the painting through the subjects and the organic and inorganic lines used to define different forms in what appears to be a dance hall. There is a lively jazz band in the background, with people dancing and in conversation. The stage is framed with bar paraphernalia, stools, and tables. The analogous colors: orange, red, violet, and blue, create a warm and cool combination that presents contrast of the different shades of clothing muddled in with the background of the dancehall. Motely also reveals the foreground: the man and the woman drinking and smoking at the round table in the front, the middle ground: the bartender serving drinks to the two women at the bar, and the background where the jazz band provides the entertainment for the night. There are different values of color in clothing, the floor, and the faces of the people come from the light source of the dancehall in the top right of the painting; as the light shines down onto the subjects the values of the colors shift to create shadows. The shadows along with the overlapping people enhance the separation between the foreground, middle ground, and back ground and reveal where the obvious positive space is, as well as the sporadic pockets of negative space throughout the piece. As a viewer, one appears to be standing in front of this scene, looking straight at it, with an overall realist effect. Night Life is a glimpse of action at a dance hall in Chicago’s Bronzeville neighborhood, an area of which Motley was familiar with.

The painting focuses on a moment of cheerfulness, vibrant with the sounds of music, dancing, and conversation (Potter). An energetic jazz band in the background guides the movement of the figures gesturing down, up, and to the left and right. The diagonal lines in Night Life “indicate sharp syncopated movement amidst free flowing activity around the dance floor” (Art Institute of Chicago). Motley’s use of creative expression has allowed him to incorporate energy and motion with the group dynamic of a community: African Americans, laughing, gesturing, and mingling with and overall sense of racial pride. His subjects define the “New Negro.” The figures are bold but stylized, so the viewer is not distracted by individual features. The body language of the figures illustrated show an overall harmonious and unified presence that portrays an engaged and receptive crowd (Potter). Motley conveys the sound and motion of jazz through technique, composition, and color, “outlining the figures with simplified, geometric shapes and emphasized diagonal lines, creating a sense of lively motion” (African American Art). “Even as Motely focused on the moment’s thrill inside a night club, he created a microcosm similar to broader outside reality, an allegory of the world” (Art Institute of Chicago).

The African American subjects illustrated the allegory of a group moving away from the economic hopelessness of the time period and moving into what sprung racial pride in the Harlem Renaissance. The African Americans embraced every aspect of their culture in this piece through the jazz music coming from the band to the movement coming from their feet. A strong sense of prosperity is depicted through the fashionable suits, dresses, and accessories worn by these men and women, revealing the intellectualism that is amalgamated into this piece, African Americans challenging the stereotypes. The subject of Nightlife gave Motely the opportunity to present, in his own words, “an expression of the numerous shades and colors which exist in such great variety” (Motley) among African Americans in Chicago.

Jane Alexander presents the viewer with 9 child sized sculptures fashioned from fibre glass, synthetic clay and plaster. These figures are a representation of the homeless children, who line the alleys of Long Street in Cape Town CBD, with which Alexander developed a symbiotic relationship whilst living there. The title of the piece has two constituents that were inspired by the graffiti that marks the alleyways: “Bom”, the Afrikaans word for “bomb” and “boys” referring to the gangs in Cape Town that often refer to themselves as such (i.e. Naughty boys, Lonely boys). This extended metaphor of sorts could allude to the societal consequences of the apartheid government’s actions. They stand –feet slightly apart-with open palms on a collection of 36 fibre board squares; looking at neither the viewer nor at each other…each one occupying his own reality. Despite standing together they appear perfectly alone: displaced pieces on the precarious chessboard that has become the game of their lives. Suspended in motion and caught between the shadow of movement and hesitation their glistening eyes paint the picture of sadness that has become their existence. Although anatomically human their subversive mutation into semi animal forms transcends reality; perhaps indicative of the paradoxical relationship each of them shares with his own identity. They are neither of this world nor separated from it but instead appear to occupy a state somewhere between the real and surreal. Each of the boys has had their faces obscured in some way: either by an animal mask, cloth or blindfold. This amalgamation of human and creature implores the viewer to recognize the dehumanization suffered by victims of the apartheid regime and by street children in particular. These obscurities have not been permanently joined in any way to the boys’ faces and thus facilitate the complex nature of identity and the indistinct boundary between human and non-human simultaneously. This visual contrast serves to disillusion the conventional ideas of what categorizes one as “human” and implicitly forces the viewer to engage with the piece on a level that seems to defy the accepted standards of society.

The viewer is drawn to these enigmatic figures; wanting to know more about who or what they are but there is something about the macabre nature of the scene that leaves the viewer hesitant to get too close on both a physical and emotional plane. The boys have all been clothed to varying degrees using found and rendered garments. Some stand clothed to such an extent that their form is indistinguishable beneath their fabric captivity whilst others stand semi clothed…the connotations of which are almost more vulnerable and degrading as someone who is entirely naked. Their pale, discoloured forms speak of something on the verge of disintegration…slowly fading into the backdrop of its own existential crisis. This begs the question of whether they are making a transition from creature to human or whether they are in fact slipping from human to creature. The form of a child has been employed in conjunction with the muscle structure of a grown man to convey the gruesome consequences of malnutrition that is rife among street children. The oversized clothing seems to extend the diminutive size of the boys as they appear to be losing themselves beneath the veiled circumstance with which they have been burdened. Although there is much about them that evokes a sense of sympathy within the viewer the emotional barrier created between them and the viewer renders it very difficult to act on this emotion. Such a division exists because of the absolute rawness of uncensored truth prevalent in the scene yet ironically it is this want for detachment on behalf of the viewer that ultimately brings one closer to the artwork and its symbolism. The boys neither protest their situation nor embrace it; as is evident by the position of their palms –open faced- as if in mild surrender or else desperate imploration. They do not adhere to the expected placement of objects on a gaming board but instead stand on the dividing line between appearance versus reality…between the known and the unknown; towing the line between perception and truth. They appear intentionally oblivious of the viewer: afraid to look or be looked at. Ironically, despite the ordered symmetry of the platform on which the boys stand there is a distinct air of instability bordering on complete disorder that grips the scene. The viewer is left to wait with baited breath in fearful anticipation of the tipping point that will transform the forced attention of the boys into a chaos that begs to be unleashed on a scene akin to that of a perverse game of “Simon Says”.

The complications of the inner conflict experienced by the viewer seems to mirror that of the boys and this shared, silent turmoil between subject and audience provokes an unexpected relationship between the two. In the broader societal context this piece illustrates displacement, oppression, dehumanization, degradation and moral paralysis: the inherent results of the apartheid regime. Alexander intentionally leaves this piece open ended so that the viewer may interpret the scene through the lens of personal experience an opinion. Her work makes for a multi-faceted interpretation of a theme as elusive as the very figures that embody it.