THE DIVINE MS. MONK

MEREDITH MONK

Who dips into heavy culture on Monday night? That’s supposed to be “recovery night,” the time to put on the heavy socks, p.j.’s and veg out in front of television. 

But this Monday night was different. Meredith Monk was performing on the University of Rochester campus. It was the rare opportunity to see a legend in action, a woman who has been awarded nearly every accolade possible in the sphere of arts and culture. President Barack Obama presented her with the 2015 National Medal of Arts. 

It’s hard to describe Meredith Monk, even more difficult to describe what she does. First, the physical facts. The woman is 77 years old! She probably isn’t much more than 5 ft. tall and maybe she weighs a bit more than 100 pounds. For last night’s performance, her long brown hair was parted in the middle and plaited into two long braids that hung over her chest nearly to her waist. She looks like a young girl from the cast of some midwestern movie, one filmed in black and white and set in the hard-knock, no-nonsense days of “Little House on the Prairie.” 

She and her stage sisters were dressed totally in white, the kind of clothes with asymmetrical hemlines, off kilter buttons and wide legged trousers, the kind of clothes that looks vaguely homemade but you know comes from small expensive boutiques selling “pieces” with designer labels. And they wore black boots. 

Ms. Monk is a pioneer in what is now labeled “extended vocal technique” and “interdisciplinary performance.” She and the ensemble “sing” — no words but a series of tics and what sounds a little like vocal exercises. (In one piece, they vocalize kitten meowing sounds.) The singers often harmonize; clearly each one is musically talented. A piano is on stage and one of the ensemble goes to the bench and tinkles ethereal fingerings once or twice but mostly the singing is a cappella.  (The hour long piece they performed is titled “Cellular Songs.”)

As they sing, the company of women move around the stage in a minuet, weaving in and and away from one another, sometimes stamping the floor with booted feet to mark a tempo. One member does a stunning dance solo, lying balanced across a stool.

As we left the theater, I was asked “Well? Did you like it?”

It was a question I could not answer. I don’t think “like” has much to do with great art.

In that auditorium, for an hour, nobody breathed. There were no sounds from the audience — no rustling, crackling candy wrappers, scrapping seats, coughing. All eyes were on that stage. Those women held the attention of that audience as completely as if they were conjurers and had cast spells on every observer. We didn’t know what we were hearing or seeing but we knew it was extraordinary and we were grateful to be among the lucky observers.

DIAMONDS ON THE SOLES OF HER SHOES

My daughter just returned from one of those fancy vacation resorts, the kind where people play golf, lay beside a pool and drink exotic concoctions of rum and fruit juice. Then they go shopping for gold, diamonds, expensive watches, tiaras. These things are cheaper there. I don’t know why. 

Sure enough, her husband loaded her up with gifts enough to cover anniversaries, birthdays, Christmases for the next five years.  No more surprises but plenty of sparkle.  My daughter likes sparkle.

I have new jewelry too, gifts from two friends. One necklace is made from knotted rubber. The other is paper. I really like these necklaces. I’m not a sparkly kind of woman.

Rubber and chain, Boo Poulin

So, you ask, if a diamond necklace costs $1000, how much should one expect to pay for a necklace made of paper? Or plastic? Or rubber? Does the price of any object — wearable or not — depend on the rarity of the material from which it is made? 

(I can see some readers saying “YEAH! WHY?” While you read this, think for a minute. Why is a Tesla 4 times more expensive than a Ford? Both do the same exact thing — takes you down the road on rubber tires inside a metal shell.)

Precious material — gold, diamonds — is valued on the basis of an international standard based (in theory at least) on its rarity. This rarity is overlaid by a system of measurements: clarity of stones, purity of metal, weights and color. 

The rarity thing is manipulated by international decisions not entirely clear to me. But historically and even today, the scheme smacks a lot of a patriarchal system of values. If rarity is the only yardstick, then why isn’t a recently discovered mushroom — the only one ever found — the most valuable thing on the planet? (Here’s more food for thought: if suddenly people discover 8 of such mushrooms, will they immediately begin establishing value by some standard of size, or color, or solidity? My guess is: yes, we humans like profiling; we invent all kinds of “categories.”)

Back to jewelry. After you get past the materials thing, what you have left is design and that’s where the rubber meets…well, you know.

"Jealous Husband" by Alexander Calder, 1976

The sculptor Alexander Calder was one of the first ARTISTS to fuse fashion (wearable) with Art (sculpture, painting). He apparently made wire jewelry for his sister’s dolls when he was a mere child of 8. During his lifetime (1898 - 1976), he designed some 1800 documented pieces of jewelry — mostly made of twisted scraps of copper and brass. Today, these pieces sell for many tens of thousands of dollars, certainly not because of the value of the material but because they are significant pieces of sculpture.

Good designers turn the wearers of their jewelry — whether the art is mainstream or radical — into pedestals. 

Early (1971) brooch by Albert Paley

Albert Paley’s formal training was as a jewelry maker. He incorporated gemstones and sometimes, precious metal. But the true hallmark of Paley jewelry — aside from those amazing designs — was scale: pieces kept growing until they became gates! Compare photographs of his early jewelry with those of his gates, and pedestals. (Or the Strong Museum sculpture! Shrink it and it could be a kilt clasp.)

(His early art was very ‘art nouveau’ but muscular. Curiously, many of those pieces would look totally at home on “Game of Thrones.”)

In his 1976 book THE NEW JEWELRY, writer Peter Dormer says “Jewelry is a decorative art and what matters is…whether or not it gives pleasure to the wearer and spectator.”  

Paul Simon’s song “Diamonds on the Soles of Her Shoes” is one of my favorites. And I’m delighted with my new necklaces. 

Thanks, Alex. Thanks, Boo.