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| Sunday, 5 October 2003 |
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Features |  |
| News Business Features Editorial
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Woman as sex symbol : Challenging the stereotype by Jayanthi Liyanage
In the contemporary art scene of Sri Lanka, a distinct streak of feminist art is emerging. The league seems to be shared by male artists who are increasingly taking up the cudgel. In his very first array of paintings, exhibited in "Upwards" at the Artists Gallery in Nugegoda from October 3-7, Janath Sanjeewa Perera portrays some portraits of feminist expressions. The series is a rejection of the traditional aesthetics of idyllic rural femininity for a cruder reality of todays sexual politics, depicted in primary renegade colours of green, blue, red and yellow. The oppression he encapsules is a brutal and mindless male dominance, rooted in sexual sovereignty.
Janath's rendition of the oppressed female is shrewdly perceptive. In one striking vignette, he features the female crucified on an oxen head - the cross of hard labour she bears throughout her daily life. In another depiction, the romance and sentimentality of "I love you" in her sensibility is transformed to "I dominate you" in his sensibility. "All philosophies are made by men and women are overshadowed by it in the many roles that a woman play in relation to the man, as mother, wife and the sexual servant," says Janath. "The contemporary woman is mainly a sexual and reproductive symbol." Janath who graduated from the Aesthetic Studies Institute of the University of Kelaniya, currently teaches art at Isipathana College, Colombo. ################ Review : Vienna comes to Kandy by Stephen R. Cogill On August 29 Kandy music lovers were privileged to hear the first recital in Sri Lanka of Albert Sassman, a brilliant and accomplished Austrian pianist. Mr Sassman performed five works, all linked to Vienna, the ancient capital of the Austro-Hungarian empire, which drew to his performance an atmosphere of nostalgia, and occasionally of elegy, all the more so as the concert took place in another ancient capital, the city of Kandy. Although still a young player and recitalist, Mr Sassman has achieved many successes in national and international competitions, and has performed extensively in the United States, Australia, New Zealand, and China, as well as in most European countries. He has made a number of radio and television appearances and recordings. Sassman performed five works, but was generous in responding to our very enthusiastic reception by giving us three encores. Each work was preceded by a brief introduction. Mr Sassman spoke briefly and simply, explaining the connection of the work to Vienna, and placing it in its historical and musical context. His opening work was Mozart's C major Sonata, K 309, not as well known a work as some of the later sonatas, but an excellent introduction for the audience to Mr Sassman's disciplined, technically brilliant playing. His approach to the first lyrical movement was restrained and relaxed, a lovely vehicle for Mozart's subtle and ever changing emotional expression. The second movement, andante, un poco adagio, revealed that Sassman was a master also of slow tempi. He created a sense of space and openness in the slow movement which paved the way for the urgency and force of the third movement, a rondeau, allegretto grazioso. The second work, Schubert's D 664 Sonata in A major, was the pivot of the recital, at least for this reviewer. Mr Sassman's restrained, disciplined playing was perfectly suited to this first mature piano sonata of Franz Schubert: a work beginning with a song, full of magic and contemplation; continuing in the second movement with a majestic, lyrical melody in which a theme from my favourite opera, Don Giovanni, is quoted, culminating in sustained dramatic chords; and concluding with a faster dance movement, decidedly Viennese in character. Mr Sassman's playing of the central, slow movement was hauntingly beautiful. His light touch, again, was admirably suited to the cheerful final movement. The deceptive ease of his technique created a spaciousness within which the drama and beauty of the whole work, full of inspired melodies and gorgeous harmonies, could be deeply felt. The following work, Johann Strauss's Fruhlingsstimmen (Voices of spring) began rather softly and gradually built up its strength until the vigour of life was restored. Any work would have suffered from having to follow the Schubert sonata; this concert paraphrase provided an interlude before the two remaining major works on the programme. The first of these was Franz Liszt's Soiree de Vienne: Valses Caprices, which is an arrangement of waltzes by Schubert. Light music? Yes, but romantic, tragic, and profound! Mr Sassman played the first and sixth of the caprices. The first is a traditional folk melody, light hearted, but referring, increasingly insistently, to the darker side of the dance, the dance of death. The sixth dance has a vigorous opening, giving way to a joyful, rolling theme, reverting to strong chords containing more than a hint of tragedy. In his playing of these dances Mr Sassman revealed their full depth and tragic subtext. Again, these 'light' pieces were well matched to the pianist's subtlety of interpretation and expression. The final work was a last waltz: the Waltz Paraphrase from Rosenkavelier, by Richard Strauss. This opera was a turning point in Richard Strauss's composition, marking a move away from the dark intensity of his early work to a more genial, urbane style. The concert hall filled with the swirl of crinolines, gliding to glittering Viennese waltzes of the late eighteenth century. We were transported to the golden autumn of Vienna; and yet a hint of sadness crept in. This work too provided ample scope for Albert Sassman's subtlety of interpretation and expression: beneath the glitter and polish, (and Mr Sassman's technique was brilliant!), there was a profound elegy. The audience were treated to no fewer than three encores. Two were well-known: the Pizzicatta Polka, by Johann Strauss, and the third of Brahms's Hungarian dances. The first of these was witty and jolly, as always, but wit alternating with great chords: light and dark drawn together. The Hungarian dance was pure joy, swirling and irresistible. The final short piece was by a Viennese migr, and written in the 1920s in Seattle. This was a nostalgic, affectionate evocation of old Vienna, and a beautiful note on which to end a remarkable and memorable concert. Stephen Cogill is a visiting fellow at the University of Peradeniya. |
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