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rnm-magic-space-xsd · 5 years

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🌌💕🖤🔮 The Faerie Who Holds The Magic of The Universe 🔮🖤💕🌌

• Love is a traveller beyond dimensions and stories of fiction through all eternity - A Shapeshifting Faerie whose blood is starlight, firework induced, night sky black ink - The Essence of The Universe

• She was first found exploded, damaged and wounded - bloody beyond repair - in another dimensional universe.. Astral Projected Herself Several Dimensions Away from Her former home..

• It was the coven themselves who found her there in their journey and helped her through

• It was by her own destructive, double edged powers, enhanced exponentially by her own emotions - that she and her surroundings were lead to ruin. Her former lover’s home...in her rage, sorrow and grief..

• She does not speak of it and is still mourning. But appreciates the coven immensely. Their kindness to bring her to this school with them.. She’s gotten close to Faith and has a joint delivery company with Hope.

• Only of Heartfelt Envelopes/Letters/Greeting Cards filled with others’ feelings and desires for others- sometimes written, sometimes so heavily induced with magic and emotional intentions [Rage/Lust/Love/Appreciation/Etc] that the receiver is electrifyingly shocked with visions and vivid imagery of sender’s emotions all over their body and soul’s being.

• You never know what you’re gonna get as the envelope itself is always white and clean 😘

• Love mainly consumes the rips of her own wings’ crystals (that change their colors according to her emotions and every magically chemical potent within them that she can change according to will at any time. In other words - as she is both magic, love and the personification of the universe - she’s quite the aphrodisiac inducing drug) but is an omnivore and is a real glutton of sensual taste. And quite charming and odd at that ;)

• Love is psychic, able to connect with other worlds, deeply [at times even too deeply for her to control] - but the power of the emotions she holds within her - Are the duality of the ever expanding universes. Fluidly and interchangibly, the warm, explosive firework of life - and the cold, dreadful embrace of magic space - the ultimate void.

• You do Not want to mess with this Faerie when viciously angered. Her syringe claws, incredibly sharp fangs, psychic abilities, universe chemicals and emotional force’s power effects do not exist for naught.

• When in her Magic Space Void State it’s unimaginably hard to get her to physically feel things, incredibly numb and icy skin.

• Love is sex-less and ace-spec. But loves cuddles, shipping of all kinds, cats, fur, fluffies, fierceness, friendship, nature, plants, succulents, space, stars, music, psychology, spirituality, witchcraft, the void, and uh. At times, very self destructive things. Despite her initially sweet, soft, quiet and demure demeanor.

• Is not a very good self protector, but would TACKLE AND DESTROY FOR HER DEAREST FRIENDS.

• She loves her memes, absurd jokes and the friends she got closer to in her journey - Zoe, Oz, The Coven, Calcutie and Scott.

• She’s got a love-hate acquaintance-ship with Polly who often wants Love to be her drug-ally. Not that Love doesn’t sometimes morbidly adore those wicked adventures.

• Liam and her Definitely rubbed each other the wrong way when she first transferred. Her being Love itself was far too cliché for oh, disinterested Liam - who could not be bothered to even disgustedly touch such a mainstream existence, sweet as she may be, and as close as she is to the Coven.

• She couldn’t find herself liking him at first either due to the façade he puts on, rejecting things only because they’re mainstream - thus, paradoxically following and caring about the mainstream and society’s views enough to intentionally rebel against it by not doing those things, as well as his rash judgement against her. Yet, from afar couldn’t help liking his endearing ways, frustrating as he might be. And how dislikable he can be sometimes.

• LOVES! Tackling Scott with hugs! Cheering Powerfully with him! Rubbing and petting him roughly when she’s excited and proud of him.

• There are, points in time where her self destructive sense returns, where her mourning, heartbreak, self doubt, depression and existential dread, the always existent and intense body and soul pains take the better of her. [Due to the universe and the worlds’ infinite cycles of death, clashes, comets and rebirths]

• She closes herself up, desires to lose herself in the numbness of dances, spirituality, drugs and parties, or in the pernicious embrace of space or the ocean. Or through self stabbings, though her wounds usually heal themselves externally in a matter of minutes.

• Those are those times when she can’t bring herself to open up to Scott due to his purity. and others.. for other reasons.

• Damien at first didn’t pay any much attention to Love, due to her small and initially cowering and silent presence - but her joint delivery service with hope - got him to notice this weird oddball. She catches his eye observing her in interest every once in a while, especially after both their rageful outburst against Leonard for acting like shit to Zoe. He got a new found sense of appreciation and camaraderie to this odd, divine being. Plus, she got him to realize how truly powerfully profound Love is, in all of its’ expressions - Just like how his fathers proved so to Hell’s kingdom.

#[Introduction Post]#The Faerie Who Holds The Magic of The Universe #MP! AU #monster prom #monster prom si

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rigelwrites-blog · 5 years

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Lorelai: Discussion and Review

The Cat Lady, from the basis of my personal perspective, was a brilliantly haunting, poignant experience that tactfully and cleverly explored grim, deeply philosophical concepts such as death, grief, self-harm, depression, and suicide. It adroitly cultivated its atmosphere to effectively and realistically convey the overhanging bleakness of Susan’s life while avoiding miring the narrative in unnecessary, ostentatious darkness. In many ways, it seems Lorelai has managed to emulate the harrowing realism of its predecessor, while similarly employing abstract imagery to establish and amplify the palpable emotional tone. The expression of this profound pathos and visual symbolism was augmented through variation in both the color palette between settings and the intensity or saturation of certain hues, particularly red. More specifically, I appreciated the implementation of softer, warmer tones to embellish the wistful filter overlaying Lorelai’s joyous memories with her father, which contrasted the harsher colors and shadows denoting her stark reality. Additionally, it was devastating to see Miranda’s death even though it had been unfortunately rather likely, considering that, when someone’s thoughts are as despairing and volatile as hers were, it’s exceptionally dangerous to be left alone with them.

Beyond the seemingly implied, deeper connection between The Queen of Maggots and Lorelei, I wonder if the Queen selected Lorelei in particular as the executor of her will as a result of Lorelei’s tenacity and her embodiment of a true “survivor”. In a sense, an individual with an indomitable spirit, who essentially represents the refusal to capitulate even amidst confrontation with the vilest of circumstances, would harbor the insatiable desire to protract their life and quell any lingering regrets, thereby rendering them susceptible to the tantalizing bargain offered by the Queen. Lorelei cannot expunge the compulsion to protect her sister from the maleficent hands of John and finally secure freedom for them both, and, consequently, she acquiesces to the Queen, just as the demonic woman likely anticipated she would.

Concerning the characterization of Lorelei and Zack, I personally found them to be just a bit too calm when conversing in Zack’s apartment in consideration of the traumatic, ineffably disturbing situations they recently endured and witnessed. Perhaps their somewhat relaxed and even flirtatious attitudes at this particular moment could be attributable to difficulties in processing the reality of what transpired, as well as the immediate need for the distraction and comfort of each other’s company and congenial, flippant conversation. Regardless, I still would have preferred some additional development for these characters during their quiet scene together, particularly through the presentation of their respective emotional responses to the profound stimuli of facing death and irredeemable wickedness. Further intimate moments between the two could have sufficed to augment the audience’s personal connection and understanding of these characters and the true depth of their personalities.

In a way, the chapter with Al was rather reflective of the anxiety mini-game from The Cat Lady, which externalized the precarious balance of Susan’s mental stability by demonstrating the pronounced repercussions incurred from her cumulative experiences of various stressors. For Al’s circumstance, it seems that the nature of Lorelai’s sudden influence over him serves as the sole determinant of the fragility of his resolve and represents the dangerous tenuity of the line existing between redemption and regression. Essentially, Lorelai was imbued with the ability to either inspire Al to surmount his depressive state and become a survivor like her, or, shatter his attempts at remediation and force him to submit to his pernicious tendencies, just as her stepfather and mother did. Though Lorelai is supernaturally capable in this situation and can affect both Al’s surroundings and his mind, I consider some of her whispered sentiments to be rather emulative of intrusive thoughts that, in their injuriousness and pessimistic cruelty, oft hinder the path towards sustained progress.

In addition to their literal meaning as a method of transportation and escape, trains have also been rather metaphoric in this game, seemingly representing a more symbolic journey or liberation from the debilitating circumstances and mentalities that have entrapped both Al and Lorelai. Lorelai is impeded in the forward momentum of her life by her corrosive home environment, and, as potentially implied through the imagery of a train battering through her apartment building as it speeds along, she is a survivor who fights for her future, regardless of what she must do or destroy to progress. Conversely, it seems in Al’s negative route that he himself was an obstacle in the track towards betterment and, in his inability to move forward, he was left behind, his journey coming to an abrupt end.

In general, the quiet moments and honest discussions on the intricacies of depression in The Cat Lady were more resonant with me personally than the situations that Lorelai is subjected to. That being said, the conveyance of the harrowing events of this game and their emotional undertones was beautifully accomplished. Additionally, the lingering possibility of redemption or progression for these characters certainly contributes much appreciated instances of warmth and hope to an otherwise rather dismal, grave story.

In consideration of the dialogue and visual representation of the Queen, it seems certain interpretations of The Queen of Maggots and her symbolic significance can be discerned. Essentially, imagery appertaining to mirrors or facing one’s reflection, prevalent in the final confrontation between the two Lorelais, appears to infer that the Queen herself is a physical manifestation of the darker, pernicious, yet oft concealed inclinations that all of humanity experiences to variable degrees. In a sense, the Queen and her machinations are also rather representative of the external or environmental stressors which trigger the emergence and outward expression of these negative attributes. In the context of the game’s universe, the “thorns” of the Queen’s corruptive influence ensnare the frail, suggestible minds of her victims, translate their desperation into capitulation, and, eventually, induce dire, grim consequences. These ramifications often involve considerable anguish for the individuals trapped in the vicinity of someone else’s destruction, thus, the cycle of trauma, mental devolution, and death exists in perpetuity, thereby fulfilling the monstrous Queen’s insatiable need to consume, like a true maggot, the corpses of the pained, lost, or damned. Lorelai can perhaps be interpreted as a symbol for the transcendence of these tribulations, as it appears she ultimately overcomes both her stepfather and the Queen herself regardless of the route, though the lingering grasp of the Queen and the regression she represents restrains Lorelai and somewhat limits the extent of her personal progression in the “bad” endings.

With respect to the overall impression Lorelai imparted upon me, I suppose I feel rather ambivalent, as certain scenes and elements were beautifully portrayed while others seemed to be a bit lacking in substance and depth. There are indubitably positive attributes to be enumerated, particularly the depiction of alcoholism and the generally inspiring message underlying the narrative and its culmination. It’s certainly quite appreciated and somewhat aberrant for a game to conclude with an accurate presentation of the mundanities and natural oscillations of highs and lows which define the course of an average life. As explored thematically throughout the extent of this game, grief, devastation, and turbulence are immutable inevitabilities of human experience that necessitate solidity of the will and persistence to healthily overcome. Though the path towards self-betterment, redemption, and contentment is sinuous and occasionally regressive, the cumbrous journey is undoubtedly worth the tribulations and set-backs we endure along the way.

As I’ve already expatiated on my interpretation of Lorelai’s purpose as a representation of resilience and pertinacity in spite of horrific circumstances, I’ll instead delve into a few of the aspects and sections of the game that I consider to be a tad weak. I mentioned earlier on that certain conversations seemed somewhat out of place and irreverent in contrast to the depravity and disillusionment the characters had recently experienced. The tonal shift was quite rapid, and, consequently, these individuals were deprived of the opportunity to emotionally respond or effectively contend with the actualities and implications of their harrowing situations. Overall, it seemed there was some misappropriation of time and focus throughout the game, as certain characters such as Maria, Zoe, and the other nursing home residents were granted comparatively considerable portions of the narrative despite, ultimately, having little significance to the overarching plot or Lorelai’s personal development. In general, ancillary characters and sections are beneficially employed to showcase facets of the protagonist’s personality and facilitate their growth, or, further the conveyance and clarity of the main theme. Outside of Al, Chapter 2’s characters were essentially forgotten about and devoid of greater purpose and detailed exploration, retrospectively rendering this chapter slightly hollow and empty. I was anticipating the replication of Lorelai’s experiences with Al in future chapters where these discarded side characters would be more effectively anatomized.

Concerning Zack and Lorelai, I still somewhat maintain my aforementioned perspective on the extent of the development and depth provided for them individually and as a couple. To me, it seemed their interactions were a tad flat and shallow with respect to the subject matter discussed and the depicted intimacy of their personal, emotional connection. Zack, himself, appears to have no demonstrable or notable personality arc beyond the rather commonplace, archetypal neighbor who finally acquires the ability to articulate his love when faced with the prospect of imminent death.

I’m a bit more equivocal when analyzing Lorelai herself and, by extension, the overarching structure and flow of the narrative itself. I suppose the greatest issue I encountered when recollecting the events of the game is the limited internal elasticity and growth that Lorelai seems to experience between the beginning and end of her journey. Though her circumstances and surrounding environment are improved substantially, her inner personality, beliefs, inclinations, and desires remain rather immutable and unchallenged by her experiences with the Queen. Regardless of your choices in actions and dialogue, Lorelai is generally the same person and an uncompromising “survivor” in the end, varying only in the amount of regrets and lingering difficulties she faces. However, Lorelai can potentially express wildly variable opinions throughout her time in the afterlife on the basis of your direction, for instance, she can harbor little sympathy for the frustrated mother in the AA group and the alcoholic Al, resolutely deciding that his life is irredeemable and should be sacrificed for the sake of her own desires. Alternatively, she can help him and defy the Queen, though the significance of this choice is rather undermined considering Lorelai suffers no evident consequences from her insubordination. I suppose I would have preferred greater divergence in the endings to reflect the pronounced dissimilarity in her perspectives and submission to the Queen’s will. Even in the positive, “golden” route, I believe Lorelai’s characterization and progression would have been a bit more realistic and dimensional had she initially lacked empathy and compassion for others who cannot as easily combat or surmount their debilitating situations. Lorelai’s unwavering strength and tenacity are not ubiquitous traits, and it would have been interesting to explore her process of recognizing and accepting the innate heterogeneity of human resolve and mental stability. Perhaps she could have accomplished this through her experiences delving into the specific circumstances of her assigned “parasites” and witnessing the true fragility of the boundary between recovery and capitulation. Conversely, the negative route would demonstrate the ramifications of austerity and the unwillingness to understand or forgive the flaws and injurious behaviors of others, instead electing to acrimoniously judge and consequently punish the people she gains influence over.

An evocative experience, nonetheless.

#VideoGameDiscussions

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pangeanews · 6 years

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“Questo mestiere non lo c**a più nessuno”: pochissimi oggi possono permettersi di mettere in scena Pirandello. Ecco perché i “Sei personaggi” versione bonsai di Scimone+Sframeli è superbo

“Adattamento” o “riduzione” poco importa: è solo una questione di accordi formali piuttosto semplici da intessere quando la materia da plasmare e mettere sotto al sole (o agli occhi di bue) è di eccellente fattura. Quando il testo drammaturgico di partenza – “Sei personaggi in cerca d’autore” di Luigi Pirandello – viene spurgato dalle impurità, asciugato a dovere con precisione di un orefice e lustrato infine con olio e cera.

Pochi, pochissimi oggi possono permettersi di mettere in scena Pirandello. Pochi, pochissimi gli attori pirandelliani che calcano i palcoscenici italiani: Enzo Vetrano e Stefano Randisi sono un vertice irraggiungibile (“L’uomo, la bestia e la virtù”, “Pensaci, Giacomino!” e “I Giganti della Montagna” si inseriscono nella profonda e illuminata tradizione italiana delle “grandi messe in scena” dei testi del Nobel di Girgenti) ma una menzione d’onore va a Francesco Sframeli, l’altra metà artistica di Spiro Scimone, impegnato al “Petrella” di Longiano nel superbo e applaudito “Sei”, versione “bonsai” (un’ora secca) del capolavoro di Pirandello.

La veridicità del dramma – che l’autore siciliano chiamava commedia ma che commedia non è – appare evidente sin dall’apertura del sipario: sul fondale appare la facciata di una casa naif, impreziosita da una serie di finestre e porte che permettono la duplicazione della spazialità (in Pirandello lo spazio viene caratterizzato dai personaggi): un dietro, quindi un non-luogo che si fa luogo attraverso le voci degli attori, e un avanti, quindi il palcoscenico, dove l’azione si svolge.

Il lavoro del duo Scimone-Sframeli non si riduce allo “sforbiciamento” del testo scenico: a un corposo “levare” viene risciacquato il linguaggio, gli viene tolta parte della polvere. Così in occasione dello scontro tra attori e personaggi, la battuta “Questo mestiere non lo caga più nessuno” scende in platea con la naturalezza e l’efficacia della contemporaneità. Perché se è vero che fare l’attore è oggi qualcosa di elitario (e forse di meno urgente), i personaggi sono sempre meno reali ma più veri chi dà loro, per la durata di uno spettacolo, voce, fattezze e movimenti.

Le licenze poetiche – ottimamente integrate nel testo originale – non si fermano al “non cagare più”: fresco, seppure con una nota filologica d’autore, è il certosino lavoro operato sulla Figliastra che canta “La mula de Parenzo” ma che quando ride lo fa omaggiando Rossella Falk, fragorosa e squillante, spaccatimpani. Più “zoccola” e sensuale del personaggio originale, la Figliastra di “Sei” – davvero ben vissuto da Zoe Pernici – è un vulcano di contemporaneità: docile e suadente, ma anche timorata di Dio, scandisce in scena i tempi del dramma.

Spiro Scimone e Francesco Sframeli hanno capito uno dei misteri del laboratorio segreto di Luigi Pirandello: mettere in luce la consapevolezza delle apparenze, la scansione delle apparizioni. L’abito prima, poi il corpo e solo alla fine il pensiero detto, che friziona e stride, spesso, con quello che viene dato agli occhi del pubblico. Così anche qualche manierismo un po’ spinto – che in questo “Sei” diventa muscolare e leonina rappresentazione di una vera finzione – è teso a raccontare la frattura tra i personaggi e gli attori: non si salva nessuno dal dramma della vita. Solo i primi, “Quando si è capito il giuoco”, possono permettersi di vivere. In scena. Non altrove: solo sulle assi di un teatro.

In questo “Sei” viene girato il paradigma del testo drammaturgico: gli attori sono personaggi e i personaggi diventano attori in quanto i personaggi non si rivedono negli attori. Gli stilemi più comici rispetto al testo scenico tradizionale donano alla pièce un’apparente leggerezza. Il Padre (Sframeli), è una figura contemporanea: ha notato la Figliastra quando era una bambina, l’ha aspettata crescere e poi, una volta morto il padre biologico della ragazza, è andato a letto con lei, gioiello a disposizione degli uomini nel bordello di Madama Pace. Forse per lavarsi i sensi di colpa o solo per averla sempre a portata di mano, ha sposato la Madre (una brava Giulia Weber). Il doppio suicidio della chiusa – la Bambina piccola che affoga nel laghetto, il Figlio che si spara – spiega con efficacia che la realtà degli attori può essere cambiata, ma mai quella dei personaggi, costretti ad essere eterni nei ruoli che il poeta ha deciso per loro.

Alessandro Carli

*In copertina: Francesco Sframeli e Zoe Pernici in “Sei” – di Spiro Scimone, adattamento dei “Sei personaggi in cerca d’autore” di Luigi Pirandello. Regia di Francesco Sframeli. Foto di Gianni Fiorito

L'articolo “Questo mestiere non lo c**a più nessuno”: pochissimi oggi possono permettersi di mettere in scena Pirandello. Ecco perché i “Sei personaggi” versione bonsai di Scimone+Sframeli è superbo proviene da Pangea.

from pangea.news http://bit.ly/2FXLwNU

#news #Teatro #Alessandro Carli #Attore #capolavoro #Commedia #contemporanei #Francesco Sframeli #lin

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tmnotizie · 6 years

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CAGLI – Sabato 10 novembre alle 21.00 arriva a Cagli una nuova prima stagionale con lo spettacolo SEI di Spiro Scimone, personalissima rilettura dei Sei personaggi in cerca d’autore di Luigi Pirandello. La Compagnia di Teatro Scimone Sframeli porta al Comunale uno spettacolo che ha avuto una sola anteprima al Napoli Teatro Festival salutata con grande favore da critica e pubblico.

In SEI si segue la traccia originale piuttosto fedelmente ma la poetica pirandelliana si fonde con lo spirito siciliano, vissuto ai margini e lungo i bordi, tipico dell’esperienza del duo Scimone/Sframeli. La vicenda si svolge in un teatro dove una compagnia – due attori, due attrici e il capocomico – sta per iniziare le prove di uno spettacolo che, forse, non debutterà mai.

Per un problema elettrico il teatro rimane al buio e la luce torna solo quando appaiono in carne ed ossa i Sei Personaggi, rifiutati dall’autore che li ha creati. Il Padre, la Madre, la Figliastra, il Figlio, il Giovinetto e la Bambina illuminano il teatro, con la speranza di poter vivere sulla scena il loro dramma doloroso.I componenti della compagnia, confusi dall’improvvisa apparizione, pensano che i Sei siano degli intrusi o dei pazzi e cercano di cacciarli dal teatro.

Ma quando il Padre inizia a raccontare il dramma doloroso che continua a provocare sofferenze, tensioni e conflitti familiari riemergono, e l’idea di far vivere i Sei Personaggi sulla scena diventa sempre più concreta e necessaria.Con SEI la compagnia Scimone Sframeli torna alle radici più profonde del teatro e dei modi in cui la narrazione può prendere forma. Lo spettacolo, che ha visto la compagnia confrontarsi per la prima volta con la scrittura e la lingua di un autore siciliano, è stato allestito al Teatro Comunale di Cagli durante una residenza artistica di circa tre settimane nel mese di maggio.

Con Francesco Sframeli, Spiro Scimone, Gianluca Cesale, Giulia Weber, Bruno Ricci, Francesco Natoli, Mariasilvia Greco, Michelangelo Zanghì, Miriam Russo, Zoe Pernici. Regia Francesco Sframeli. Scena Lino Fiorito. Costumi Sandra Cardini. Disegno luci Beatrice Ficalbi. Musiche Roberto Pelosi. Regista assistente Roberto Bonaventura. Direttore di scena Santo Pinizzotto. Assistente ai costumi Carolina Tonini. Produzione Compagnia Scimone Sframeli, Teatro Stabile di Torino – Teatro Nazionale, Teatro Biondo Stabile di Palermo, Théâtre Garonne-scène européenne Toulouse.

In collaborazione con Fondazione Campania dei Festival – Napoli Teatro Festival ItaliaBiglietti: Platea-Palchi € 15,00 Ridotto € 10,00 – Loggione € 10,00 Prevendita online su www.liveticket.it Botteghino del Teatro: Tel. 0721 781341 – e mail: [email protected]

#Marche #TMNotizie

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nofomoartworld · 7 years

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Hyperallergic: Artworks from Two Museums Share a Space, But Not a Conversation

Installation view: 20/20: The Studio Museum in Harlem and Carnegie Museum of Art (all photos by Bryan Conley unless otherwise noted)

PITTSBURGH — On its face, the exhibition 20/20: The Studio Museum in Harlem and Carnegie Museum of Art, mounted in the latter museum’s galleries, is an astute idea: a group exhibition with works by 40 artists, half of which are selected from the collections of the Carnegie and the other half from the Studio Museum — all chosen to address the ideas and lived realities of identity and social inequality in the US. I was so down for this show when I heard about it, so much so that I could overlook the rather pedantic themes that organized it. These include: “A More Perfect Union,” containing works that discuss democracy in relation to identity; “Working Thought,” about the relation between the nation’s economy and the labor that underpins it; and “American Landscape,” which deals with perceptions of our constructed and inherited environments. Additionally, there are “Documenting Black Life,” “Shrine for the Spirit,” and “Forms of Resistance”— all somewhat useful themes except that in the words of Busta Rhymes, the work of the curators has already “put [their] hands where my eyes can see.” The work here is powerful and, by simply assembling it in a few interconnected rooms, I get a sense of what is at stake in the increasing social and economic inequity of our political reality.

Glenn Ligon, “Prisoner of Love #1 (Second Version)” (1992), oil and gesso on linen, Carnegie Museum of Art, Founders Patrons Day Acquisition Fund (image courtesy Regen Projects, Los Angeles, © Glenn Ligon)

On entering the first gallery, I encounter Glenn Ligon’s “Prisoner of Love #1 (Second Version)” (1992), a text painting in which the phrase “we are the ink that gives the white page a meaning” is repeated over and over and then begins to smudge and become muddy and illegible towards the bottom, as if in the repetition (because it is not heard the first time) the sentiment becomes part of the cultural noise that renders us all crying voices in a cacophonous wilderness — each of us keening with one another as our habitat shrinks and we are inched to oblivion. Zoe Strauss gets at the anger those of us feel who grew into adulthood under circumstances that impel us to see the social world as a mean, mercenary place consistently taking advantage of us, and that taught us to fight based not only on hatred of our place in this world, but hatred of ourselves as well. Her “If You Reading This, Philadelphia” shows how that hatred spills out and spreads everywhere.

But then there are more encouraging stories. For example, Barbara Chase-Riboud’s work, “The Cape (Le Manteau) or Cleopatra’s Cape” (1973), presents a large, metal mosaic robe, mounted on an armature with a fall of knotted rope spilling from its center down to the floor. The piece evokes an aristocratic dignity and self-regard. In dialogue with the exhibition’s themes, this sense of self is a premise upon which “a more perfect union,” may be formed; it is a way to see the body as a “shrine for the spirit,” and can mount “forms of resistance.” A sense of dignity is also wrapped up in Ben Jones’s work “Shrine for the Spirit” (1976), which takes that African diasporic body and makes it a ritualized set of components that are colorful, vibrant, and sacred. With his “Solon 6:12” (2000), Kori Newkirk takes color and makes it a sweeping curtain of beads that forms a lushly polychromatic landscape that is so deeply beautiful I wonder how he let it go from his studio.

Barbara Chase-Riboud, “The Cape (Le Manteau)” (1973), bronze, hemp rope, copper (Studio Museum in Harlem; gift of the Lannan Foundation, 1998, image courtesy of Michael Rosenfeld Gallery LLC, New York, NY, photo by Adam Reich)

Among my other favorite pieces is Lorna Simpson’s “Dividing Lines” (1989) that makes the black figure an enigmatic presence, which aphoristic language seeks to corral and define. Phrases surrounding photographic images of a black woman in a white dress, with her back to the viewer, include: “line one’s pocket; same ol’ line; out of line.” But Simpson’s women are implacable; they stay turned from the viewer, not seeking dialogue (especially not in the impoverished terms of hackneyed cliché) but self-direction. Additionally, Meleko Mokgosi’s “Walls of Casbah” (2010–2012) show the real power of critique by adding his handwritten marginalia to museum captions: his more intimate and comprehensive knowledge supersedes the erudition of the museum professional who is clearly shown to write from a blinkered perspective.

The show is laid out with a good selection of artworks; the lighting is muted but appropriate. Yet I left the show each time (I saw it twice in two days) feeling empty. I often had a similar feeling walking the Whitney Museum when it was in its former uptown location, seeing painting after painting placed to tell a story of the development of contemporary American art. Here, it feels like this is intended to be a story of the evolution of political consciousness, with work forced into the role of illustrative icon. The works don’t mesh and get messy; they don’t gather and exchange anecdotes; they don’t speak over each other creating a busy, enlightening conversation — they don’t. They dwell in their own demarcated plots of land and point beyond themselves. There is a sterility to this show that is underpinned by an uninspired curation.

Installation view: 20/20: The Studio Museum in Harlem and Carnegie Museum of Art with Kori Newkirk’s “Solon 6:12” (2000) visible to the left

Likely, most people reading this review are aware of the pernicious effects of the white cube, how it makes most things placed in it the beatified art object. There is a wall adjacent to the gallery advertising the exhibition. The best indication of what this exhibition might have otherwise been can be seen in the lead image of this review, which shows a wall adjacent to the gallery advertising the works in the show. They are displayed salon style, their meanings made more resonant by their close proximity — which feels like the true spirit of this show. Or it could have been, if that spirit had been nurtured and given room to grow.

Pope L “White People Are Angles on Fire” (2004) (photo by the author for Hyperallergic)

But there is a juxtaposition in the exhibition that saves me from the disappointment I’m left with, where Pope L. has interjected one of his text pieces. Most of these pieces by Pope L. are displayed in the entranceways between galleries, and they felt too editorial for me, like comments in the comment section of an online article. But here he puts the text up against the glass partition between this show and the adjacent gallery full of (white) marble figurative statuaries from antiquity that now call to mind Sarah Bond’s trenchant critique of the idea that this work devoid of color is too often taken to represent Western civilization. It reads “white people are angles on fire.” Right below the sign, one can see that group of alabaster bodies, suggesting the classical ideal they represent. I can’t tell if this is due to the curation or the artist’s insistence, but either way, it’s insightful and pointed, and shows the potential for contemporary work to bring deeper awareness to its own physical context and thus exist in dialogue rather than a pretend solipsism.

I do think this exhibition is a great idea and needs to happen more often, but I wish it would be engined by a sense of what work can do when it is not rendered a lone voice, but sings with a partner, or joins a chorus.

20/20: The Studio Museum in Harlem and Carnegie Museum of Art continues at the Carnegie Museum of Art (4400 Forbes Avenue, Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania) through December 31.

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