Familiar Barcelona & (Too)ledo Many Shenanigans

June 04, 2017 by Maia Leandra in parlance, spanish excursion, travel, art

Days two through four of this trip were split between surveying the rest of Barcelona (a hefty task for a day), commuting to Madrid, and taking time to explore Toledo.

Though I've never been to Barcelona, or Spain in general for that matter, I'm partially titling this post "familiar" because, well, it was. Kinda.

First off, I was greeted bright and early on Day two by a familiar face: Harvard pal, Cesar, who has been on a study abroad in Barcelona all semester (read: sad!). He showed me his university and we had the chance to catch up over bocadillos - which I would soon come to be addicted to, and also probably eat my weight's worth.

Post breakfast, us HAAers went to the Museu Nacional d’art de Catalunya, and truly felt one with the art...

Our next stop was also familiar, in the sense that I had learned a lot about this architect and his work back in high school: Ludwig Mies Van der Rohe - specifically his Barcelona Pavilion. A simple beauty replete with rich juxtapositions of crisp marble, lush velvet, and pristine glass - all contributing to, one might say, the liminal nature of the space.

We then spent quite some time at the Picasso Museum (no pictures permitted, so you'll just have to take my word for it) before heading to the Gothic Quarter, dining, and packing up for an early trip to Madrid the following morning.

Day three marked the day we will never forget. The day we spent seven hours in the Prado. Seven. Hours. It's the Prado, we know. It was great, no complaints there. But we hadn't quite adjusted to the drastically different dining situation, and hungry doesn't make for the best visual digestion. I will say that seeing Las Meninas in person was quite a Transformative Experience (thanks Harvard, thanks Dean Khurana), and it was quite comical to find little Infantas scattered around Madrid from there on out.

Day four, we all zonked out on the bus en route to Toledo, but perked up once we were there - or at least I did. I absolutely loved it! From the sexy sidestreets to the sprawling view, frolicking in the flowers in between, Toledo had to be one of my favorite spots.

There, we saw the Cathedral of Toledo, Mezquita del Cristo de la Luz, Santo Tormé, Santa Maria La Blanca, and El Tránsito - not without our fair share of shenanigans and group photos of course.

But, in all seriousness, the architectural views were pretty spectacular. From lush landscapes to crisp corners, each stop was full of awe and information streaming directly from our professors.

So here's to looking up at ceilings like these, and looking forward to more Spain posts - oh yes, there's more.

A Spanish Revival & Gaudí's Barcelona

May 29, 2017 by Maia Leandra in parlance, travel, fashion, spanish excursion, art

Though Spanish Revival is a beast of it's own, I'm poaching its credible title to announce this Mod & Bean comeback - one of perhaps epic proportions (I'm talking travel photos galore). Though not as much pomp but definitely a lot of circumstance prevented me from keeping up a few weeks worth of Mod Mondays, much like Gossip Girl, I'm back and better than ever - sans the digital tormenting, of course.

I present to you the first of several installations reporting on the art, the architecture, and the adventures of 10 days in Spain, generously afforded by the History of Art & Architecture Department at Harvard for the sophomore concentrators.

Adventures included days spent at the Prado and Reina Sofia (before and after public hours, wow!), trips to every grand Cathedral, Mosque, and Synagogue imaginable to celebrate Spain's convivencia, and scaling these skyscrapers for behind the scenes aerial views of Spain.

For ease of photo upload and narrative arch, I have broken down this trip regionally, focusing on the major cities of Barcelona, Madrid, and Sevilla as the anchors of the posts. Each post will deliver sites and stories from that spot, including the itineraries of those days at the end for more specific citations. Today's post? A review of Gaudí's Barcelona - a visionary known for his gargantuan and fantastical structures that manage to consume you and transport you into another universe. Though we viewed images of his work throughout the whole semester in class, nothing could compare to the overwhelming nature of approaching one of these curvilinear structures and instantly feeling like both an alien and an ant inside. I'm not saying that the sleep deprivation from the day's travel helped to make these buildings trippier, but I'm also not not saying it.

Fresh off the plane we slipped into Casa Milá, passing my personal favorite, House of Bones (Casa Batlló) on the way. At each stop, we usually had some peer presentations, so don't just think we're nerds who carry books to every site we saw, we had to do that ;)

For Casa Milá, roof access was available to all those curious - and what a curious sight indeed:

From a peak we went to a valley, Parque Güell to be exact, where I marveled at the colorful nature of humans when you zoom out and see them as "sprinkles on the ice cream of life" (to quote my insta caption that day).

To finish this bit of exploration, we ended with the un-finished Sagrada Familia: a Cathedral of colossal stature.

As we all looked up, and spent the week doing so, you can look forward to plenty more jaw-dropping views and typical shenanigans in the days to come.

Welcome back!

Barcelona Day 1:

Casa Milá (La Pedrera)
Parque Güell
Sagrada Familia

Artsy April: Return to Identities

April 17, 2017 by Maia Leandra in artsyApril, fashion, people, art

It's been a year since I first attended Identities behind a lens and in front of the stage. This year (watch the footage here!), I tried my hand on the stage itself, taking some action shots as time permitted and the music moved me.

Identities, a campus-wide fashion show focusing on inclusion and displaying clothing in this year's theme of Fashion & Technology, provided a day full of meeting new pals, strutting our stuff, and twirling around in the designer garbs we were given.

Though modeling in the show was more my priority than photographing it, I stole away for a few moments to capture the awe and allure that would enrapture the audience later that night. Though, caveat: these are only a fraction of the stunning models, as I was restricted to photographing those around me who happened to be on my same snack/dance break schedule.

This Identities show was particularly special to me because my family flew up for the occasion (having the chance to check out one of my Admissions Info Sessions and Crimson Key tours while they were up here), and it was the dose of home that I needed to finish out the semester.

Peep shoes by Thesis Couture (importing Nasa technology to comfy footwear!) & some of the more tech inspired looks:

So thank you, Identities, for an excuse to get gussied up, see my family, and feel the electricity emanating from the bumpin' tunes and cheers from the faceless audience (those spotlights were BRIGHT!) <3

All photos by me, except me lacing up my Thesis heels (Photographed by Olivia Nie)

Artsy April: Student Spotlight

April 10, 2017 by Maia Leandra in artsyApril, cool beans, people, parlance, art

In keeping in this month's #arstyApril theme, today's post features an art installation constructed on campus by student, friend, dancer, lover of live, and all around gem, Bruno! Today's high of 70's and sunny sunshine have students crawling out of the library woodworks to chill in the yard, lounge on the HAM steps (ode to G.G.), and enjoy all the art that surrounds them - especially those created by their peers!

This work, while sadly no longer displayed (yes, catch me featuring unseeable art, sorry) hung in the Carpenter Center on campus last semester. I photographed the work for Bruno in an attempt to preserve the movement and functionality of the piece before it got torn down (haha, because it's made mostly of fabric). Anyway, here's the low down, straight from the artist's mind and pen:

“I slipped” (or at least that was the title a couple months ago) is a three-dimensional representation of a two-dimensional recording of movement. After working with charcoal drawings that documented dance, I decided to reiterate one of those drawings in three-dimensional form.

This is the fifth iteration of it—wood, iron, resin, wire, and plastic were all involved at one point or another, but they were not the right materials. The skeleton is made by a couple pieces of hand-bent steel that were welded together. The leg at the bottom is a plaster cast of my own the was cracked in half and glued back together, and I used dyed chiffon as the body of the sculpture. It hangs from a single point and the fabric flows freely except for the anchor points, which means that light touch and wind can make it move and spin. The sculpture dances.

What I enjoy most about it is its asymmetry, given that it is the result of what is supposed to be a symmetrical movement. The leg cast is en pointe which alludes to dance, and the flowing fabric wrapping around the cast as the piece spins creates a sense of freedom and movement which comes with dance but is recreated with inactive materials in this case.

I see people interacting with it by gently touching or pushing it around, although my friends have been reluctant to do so at first. I guess looking at it is nice too. As a VES concentrator, I was lucky to continue my research of bodily movement and its reverberations through different materials as part of classwork. It was a fulfilling project and I’m excited about future exploration and potential collaborations with other media!

Having been able to interact with the work myself, I felt seamlessly (another fabric pun) connected to Bruno's unique movement, while also able to inject the movement of my own body interacting with the work. The wire is surprisingly heavy, and pushing my weight against it reminded me of the juxtaposition of the weightlessness and immense effort of dance. Kudos, Bruno on this stellar piece! Now put down your phone or your computer and enjoy the freshness of the day outside!

Artsy April: Materiality of Mourning

April 03, 2017 by Maia Leandra in artsyApril, parlance, art

It's April (the third to be exact) and finally feeling like Spring with this post-snow storm heatwave! And though this past weekend had less than favorable weather conditions, the campus didn't slow down, nor did the traction of students and guests to the Harvard Art Museums and the Student Art Show skip a beat! In honor of that, the immense time I spend in HAM (not the meat, but the museum for short), and the fact that I'm realizing art, which are half of my studies, truly make me happy, I'm self-proclaiming a month long holiday: Artsy April! Let this be a month of eyes attuned to the aesthetic and an overall appreciation for anything artistic - including gloves found on the floor (I'm looking at you Bruno, @fallinginglove).

This month, you'll see posts about current exhibits, student-artist-friends-extroardinaire, Instagram geniuses, and more! So let's inaugurate this initiative with an exhibition currently on display at HAM that is near and dear to me, for a counter intuitive reason:

I'm referring to the Doris Salcedo Exhibit The Materiality of Mourning. (3rd floor of HAM, check it out, check it out!)

I'm no stranger to this exhibit. Rather, I had actually seen it on display at the Perez Art Museum of Miami last summer, before it travelled up to Boston. I remember going to PAMM, expecting to see some brightly colored anything (typical of happy, Miami summertime), and being confronted with the ghostly muted tones of these works - an initial reaction given my love for color. As personal background, I visited this exhibit in Miami during the time in which I was deciding to study computer science or art history (before the combination of doing both struck me), and pitching to my parents why I thought art history would be the path for me. I remember coming home that day, kind of disappointed with what I had seen, and sitting down to talk to my parents to quasi "pitch" them my plan of study.

Naturally, my parents asked about my day, and honed in on the fact that I didn't "like" what I had seen at the museum. They pointed out that I'm not going to "like" (what I define to be visually pleasing) all the art I encounter, but that shouldn't mean I should shy away from it. Rather, I should dive into why it affronts me, and learn more. I left Miami shortly thereafter, kind of defeated that maybe art history wasn't the way for me. (Important note: I'm a fan of wall text, I know it's controversial as in "should art speak for itself? Or does it really need an explanation?" But I find value in the words written to supplement the works, not substitute them, and realized I hadn't given the Salcedo exhibit enough opportunity to learn and read about it to understand and appreciate it).

Fast forward to Sophomore fall, I'm about to declare my joint plan of study, I start working at the Harvard Art Museums as a member of the Student Board, and I'm told The Materiality of Mourning will be exhibited at our very own museum! I thought, "This is my chance to prove to myself that I can 'like' something that I don't initially gravitate towards, merely if it be only for the thought process and artistic merit."

This is when I was presented with the opportunity for a pre-opening night walk through with the curator, Mary Schneider Enriquez, a personal friend of Doris Salcedo. I cannot even begin to explain how my eyes opened, my heart opened, and my entire being accepted this exhibit - and I knew, that this was the right path of study for me.

With all of that personal significance aside, the exhibit itself is quite incredible. It's incredible in a very hallowing and moving way, given that it deals with death, violence, and quite literally, the materials of mourning. As a viewer, you're presented with four major works: toppled over armoires physically conjoined with tables, mutilated chairs, a fabric of sutured roses, and a series of three vapor-like "shirts". Each work calls attention to violence, in Colombia and Detroit for example, by comparing mutilation of common, often household objects, to the aggression against people.

Untitled 2008 displays two items of familiar furniture, a table and an armoire, and forces them together in an unnaturally chilling way. The table being just long enough to fit a body, the cement filled in like a grave.

Thou-less presents a series of chairs that are crushed, reformed, and otherwise butchered. The chairs evoke spaces in which bodies once occupied - which I conceptually understood, but felt in practice now every time I leave a classroom, and an imprint of the student body is left on the disarray of chairs.

A Flor de Piel is probably the most intricate, materially, as it verbally translates to skin of flowers, and it evokes the softness of a bedroom sheet yet with the colors of blood and death, physically made from dyed roses sewn together with suture thread - like the sealing of wounds. Here, Salcedo points out that violence can even occur in the sanctuary of your own room.

Disremembered is a series of shirts that are made of nickel dyed needles and silk thread. The overall form is meant to signify the casual act of hanging up a shirt or jacket at the end of the day when you get home. It also alludes to the presence of a person's body that would normally be in the shirt, but now all that's left is a hollow artifact of the person who is gone. The needles elicit the "pins and needles" feeling that crawls on the skin of those mourning.

At the risk of not doing the exhibit enough justice with my cursory explanations (nor seeking to turn this blogpost into a robust paper for one of my art history courses), I felt that this portion of the exhibit catalogue succinctly encapsulated the works:

In Disremembered, Salcedo continues her pursuit of a materiality that is all but fleeting. Like a Flor de Piel, the sculptures in this series seem to be just on the verge of disappearing, although these works are not constructed of organic materials. Each is a seemingly fragile, specter-like form of human scale that appears to float against the wall.

Moral of the story, please check out this exhibit for yourself! I only hope you take more time than I originally did to truly fathom the brilliance underpinning these works, and let yourself feel the desperation and sense of mourning that is evoked.

Other moral of the story, taking this month to post about different arts will hopefully bring to all of your attentions the wonderful, artistic opportunities that surround us daily. So go forth, my friends, and find your art! I suggest stopping at Jenny's Cafe in HAM on your way ;)

Reflection & Refraction

January 02, 2017 by Maia Leandra in art, parlance

New year, new post, same bean. I welcome you, readers, to 2017!

This new year has already brought some of the most rejuvenating and joyful days I've had in a while - guess spending family time out on Miami's beautiful beaches will do that for ya. And with this fresh perspective and reignited love of life, I've had time to ~reflect~ on last year and jot down some attainable resolutions for this coming year. Without getting too personal or sappy, let's just say there's a lot I have to be thankful for, a lot I have to re-evaluate, and a lot I have to look forward to. So, without further ado, I present to you a seemingly unrelated post highlighting the Julio Le Parc Exhibit at the Perez Art Museum. But here's the twist: the exhibit focuses on kinetic sculptures, spectatorial participation, and the refraction of light. So why not take Le Parc refraction as reflection of good things from the last 365 days to the next?

The Perez Art Museum, or PAMM, has become one of the spots I feel the most at home, while I'm at home. Built right off and on Biscayne Bay, it maintains an architectural confluence of outdoors and indoors that is both refreshing and familiar. The structure itself almost rivals the art within, and the swinging chairs overlooking the skyline provide the perfect spot for catching up with friends and putting topics learned in Art History classes to good use.

In the past couple weeks I've been in Miami, I've been to PAMM three times. Not only is that a testament, I think, to the magnetic pull of this place, but also a nod to how much their current exhibition enchants visitors.

I present to you the magic of Julio Le Parc. In his first full exhibition in the states, this Argentinian born artist walks visitors through his mind: giving us glimpses into his exploration of color theory and how that ultimately manifests in large scale color plays and rooms filled with rainbows.

After color, Le Parc tackles the capturing of movement. From his kinetic sculptures that respond to the volume of visitors in the room, to his rooms filled with distorting devices, Le Parc's exhibition title is apropos as he truly puts "Form into Action."

With all of his plays on material, distortion, and refraction, I couldn't help but enjoy and question my own reflection in his pieces. I saw myself in silhouettes, I saw myself in funhouse-esque mirrors. I even signed a waiver to push an orange bouncy ball at my friend while navigating an uneven floor under a strobe light. And if that run on sentence wasn't enough, Le Parc had visitors exercise their mastery of opticality by donning glasses that obstruct your view - and look quite comical at the same time

So, with a triple visit to PAMM (accompanied by Alexa, Cat, and Alana in that order), and Julio Le Parc's exhibit in particular, I hope to inspire you all to visit (if you just so happen to be in Miami) and even try to project yourself in these photos to feel the exhibit as I did.

And here are other shots from other artists, including some "light reeding" if you will.

Happy New Year and thank you for continuing with me on my adventures this year!

Warm, Wynwood Break

December 12, 2016 by Maia Leandra in art

It started snowing last night, here in Cambridge, MA, but that hasn't prevented me from seeking to keep my Mod Mondays colorful and warm. Today, instead of snowy whites and tales of final projects, I'm keeping it colorful by depositing all the residue from the Wynwood scene during my last two trips to Miami.

With pinks as toasty as these orchids dotting my house, to lights as vibrant all over Wynwood (well, except for that one wall I found before it got repainted, muahaha), it's hard to not long for the city that doesn't participate in a classically cold December.

But, given that I'm still two final projects and two exams away, I can only dream of Greenstreet breakfasts, Threefold gossip sessions, and more time spent perusing my favorite spots - so dream with me, and enjoy the photo heavy leftovers (is it too late for a Thanksgiving pun?) of my trips home lately:

A Weekend at Art Basel

December 05, 2016 by Maia Leandra in art, parlance, travel

It seems unimaginable that just this morning I woke up in Miami - and now it's snowing outside my window, finals are upon us, and I'm swimming in 600+ photos that prove I did, in fact, play hooky from school to attend Art Basel this year.

Though I used to go to the exhibits when I was still in high school back in Florida, my developing experiences in the art history world have made this year's trip all the more memorable. While I don't plan on providing you with a formal analysis of the pieces as proxies for whatever they mean, I do wish to share my adventure at Art Basel, and sprinkle some of the highlight photos along the way.

So brace yourselves for a visual overload, a sensory extravaganza - save the 11,000 steps it took to see it all in person.

One thing to note from the get go: I don't claim to take better photos of these pieces than you can probably find on Google or a collector's site; rather, I simply want to share with you the way I saw them. Meaning, there are more than just a few slanted shots, probably testaments to the shuffle between booths and the cursory glances of some of the works. Oh! And the fact that after dodging spectator after spectator, sometimes I gave up and made the human obstructions a part of the shot:

After all, upon discovering both instagram accounts @girlsinmuseums and @dressedtomatch (thanks to my Partner in Basel, Alana) the obstruction can even be part of the art.

And for all the art you weren't really supposed to be a part of, there was a whole corner dedicated to playing with pasta. I kid you not - you could sit down at the greasy table and were, for once in your life, encouraged to play with your food:

Aside from the magnetism of the carbs, I found myself drifting towards all the neon light fixtures - an homage to my childhood fascinations with bright lights and vibrant colors.

Wording wasn't the only thing brightly displayed at Art Basel: there were plenty of optical installations, namely those of Julio Le Parc (prominently featured currently at PAMM, and part of the content of the next post!).

And though the galleries obviously boast the main attractions, I couldn't help but notice that the gallerists' workspaces weren't always your standard, foldable chairs.

At one point, I decided to trail my dad - a man with a history of creativity not often understood by me or the rest of my nuclear family. For context, he would always pick the most bizarre, un-appealing ice cream flavor combinations, and somehow they would taste incredible! So, I figured, if I applied ice cream logic here, what he was drawn to could be those hidden gems. Turns out he fancied corners of benches and hanging who-knows-what - per usual:

But, hey, who am I to knock other people's photos of choice? I mean, my friends and I more than made fools of ourselves at any possible photo op.

And, before I bombard you with the rest of my visual adventure, I'll sign off - and by sign off I mean resume my reading week responsibilities. Until next year!

Clash of the Art Scenes

June 30, 2016 by Maia Leandra in parlance, travel, art

So far, you readers have gotten a feel for Miami as a hometown and as a buffet of sorts. Now, in my final post about this beloved, sunny city, I want to ponder the dichotomy that exists in some pockets of Miami's art scene. I'm talking about the modern pop-ups and the more historical treasures that populate the city and contribute to it's overall "fusion" vibe.

Miami itself is quite a nascent city - fairly young and skipper as opposed to other cities I have come to think of like home (*cough* Boston, I'm looking at you). This means our history is not as deep rooted, giving us room to blossom with diverse amalgamation. Since this topic is quite broad, if not borderline existential, let me narrow the scope. If we were to think of Miami as this new city, perhaps in its 20's as compared to its wiser and weathered city-peers, it would make sense that Miami is in the phase of reinventing herself. (Yes, Miami is a gal - think bronzed skin, beachy hair, and legs for days). She is trying on all of these different hats and vibes, seeing who she'll become as a result of the lives that dwell within her. Granted this metaphor materializes in highways built, the growth of the tourist economy, and other factors that clearly don't apply to your standard 20 year old. But indulge me.

Before she became the hip, food-truck laden, Art Basel boasting city she is now - she found comfort in the tried and true styles that came before her. Let's use the Viscaya Mansion as an example for this classic period in her life.

The Viscaya Mansion, formerly Villa Viscaya, used to be home to tycoon James Deering, one of three Deering brothers who also planted their mansion seeds along the drive from Viscaya to my old high school. James Deering, a conservationist, built his home with the intention of preserving local mangroves all along his property. In a present day visit to his estate, you can see the flourishing mangroves all along your walk. Upon Deerings death in 1925, his estate was handed to his nieces who couldn't keep up the cost of maintenance, especially with constant hurricanes rattling the property. Eventually, the city of Miami-Dade acquired the property and restored it to the interactive art museum it is today.

In a recent trip my friend Sofia and I made to Viscaya, we were impressed with the lushness of the property, it's beauty, and it's expanse - I'm even remembering a particular tower of flights in the mansion and wondering how fit Deering and his visitors must have been to reach all the floors and corners of his estate.

The mansion itself is roped off in parts like any other living museum. So your dream of seeing if you fit on one of those tiny beds (seriously, was everyone much smaller back in the day?) might not come true on this trip. But you know what dream will come true? You becoming a part of the artwork. Sofi and I could definitely not resist acting out our most statuesque poses in order to "blend" in with Deering's impressive collection.

Sorry, back on topic. Viscaya is actually a very apt vehicle for this overarching metaphor - the one of Miami being a fusion of old and new. The mansion itself was designed with a European theme, borrowing architectural styles from Italy and France, yet constructed using Cuban materials with Floridian coral trimmings and native vegetation - a ~fusion~ in it of itself, right?

As expected, the mansion decor is just as opulent as the nature bathing the property. Though there were plenty of signs saying no photos, I took that to mean no flash... so here all of the out of focus vertical shots are the ones I snagged with my slick iPhone skills.

Overall, my trip to Viscaya helped me transport back to Miami as it was before - as she was before she figured she had to "keep up with the Joneses." (Who is this Jones family and why are they always setting the trends?!)

Anyway, just a few more exits up the highway takes you to the Wynwood Art District, which, as noted in my prior post, is home of Zak the Baker, The Salty Donut, and the seemingly last remainder of a good 'ol Jugofresh now that Whole Foods has swallowed them all up. But, aside from the decadent food coating the area, Wynwood is certainly known for it's eclectic art scene.

For a little background, Wynwood sprouted as an art inspired/tech focused/certifiable melting pot in the mid 2000's. It is recognized mostly by its ever-changing graffiti - think paintings and pieces covering buildings and facilities, "commissioned chaos" one might say. Wynwood is also a bit of an extension of the fashion/design district of Miami, so you'll definitely see people dressed-to-impress in order to satisfy photos in front of the Wynwood Walls (if not because the people who frolic Wynwood are genuinely cooler than the people who visit Viscaya - sorry to all the girls doing their Quinceñera photoshoots the day I visited Viscaya...).

Though countless tourists may now take for granted what negotiations went behind cleaning up this neighborhood and transforming it into a pedestrian gallery, we have Tony Goldman to thank for it all. Goldman, who passed away in 2012, was a property developer who had visions for the potential of areas like this one, and opened up restaurants to encourage traction. He bought up all the properties, comprised mostly of warehouses, since Wynwood used to be a garment district, and figured he could make one of the largest, walking, outdoor galleries if he teamed up with local artists. And that, my friends, is exactly what he did. He had the foresight to turn windowless buildings into actual blank canvases and fostered relationships with the local artists to build respect for these platforms and circumvent vandalism. Given that story, what Wynwood has become today is all the more impressive.

From the Wynwood to the Walls (thank you Lil John and The Eastside Boyz for setting up my pun), this sector of Miami definitely embodies the modern phase of Miami - the phase she, as a city, is definitely vibing since it brings visitors from all over the world to her concrete yard.

So, while Miami from a Birdseye view might seem like a battle between modernity and antiquity, I'd have to disagree. I'd say this artistic conflict is only another materialization of the dichotomies that make Miami the unique city that she is. From the food, to the people, to the culture, to the art, Miami fuses it all and that is yet another reason that I am incredibly proud to call it my home.