Category: self-authored

Russell Peck, a legend

I just found out late last night that Professor Russell Peck passed away on Feb 20th at the age of 89. What a tremendous loss. I am heartbroken. I still cannot believe it.

Russell, as I called him, was a legend. A world authority on Middle English literature, the longest teaching professor at the University of Rochester, a dynamic, charismatic figure full of ideas and fervor, a curious mind with endless intellectual energy, but also a kind and generous human.

I met Russell through his wife, Ruth, who was my kids’ piano teacher. I drove my kids to their house every week, for almost a decade. I would sit in the family room and wait for each child to finish their lesson. Russell would stop by sometimes and talk to me about interesting plays he had seen. He knew how much I love the theater.
We would marvel at his English garden, filled with a variety of spontaneous blooms. They seemed organic, profuse, unfettered, an eruption of colors and fragrances, yet they were thoughtfully planned and cared for by Russell. Ruth would complain about the weeding which she felt obliged to support.

In the summertime, Ruth would organize recitals for her students in their house. The furniture was moved and countless chairs would appear as if by magic. Russell designed the program and prepared his famous punch. There was always a scoop of ice cream in the middle, sweet yumminess I remember to this day. It would be a potluck. We would grab our plates and punch, and head to the garden. Something unforgettable.

In 2008, when Russell found out I had made a documentary, my first foray into filmmaking after leaving corporate finance, he told Ruth they had to organize a launch party, as if it was the most natural thing in the world. They invited people from the English Department at the University of Rochester and other leaders of the community. They wanted to create support for the film before it premiered. Their sincerity and kindness moved me, impressed me. We became closer.

In 2012-13, I joined Ruth and Russell for their famous Theatre in London course. It was a dream. I was in London for almost three weeks and saw 25 plays. Even though I was older than their UR students and, as an activist filmmaker, my POV was frequently different, they encouraged me to share my thoughts. Every morning, we would meet in a small room on the ground floor of Hotel Harlingford, and we would critique the plays we had seen the day before. Russell would make an effort to engage me, urging me to dig deeper and add to the discussion.

They invited me to a family dinner with their daughter and grandchildren. Ruth kept checking in on me, with her usual warmth and charm, she made me feel like I was an essential part of the group. Afterwards, when I wrote my reviews, one for each play, Russell gave me wonderful feedback and was so happy with my work, he published it on the UR website.

In 2014, when my art exhibition, This Heirloom, opened at the Colacino gallery at Nazareth College, both Ruth and Russell attended. In my artist talk, I mentioned the book that they had brought back for me from their annual trip to London. It was called “Drawing the Line.” The politics of partition are messed up and entangled with histories of ethnonationalism since 1947, but I loved the play.

Russell suggested UR plays and lectures to me. Many times we would attend them together, Ruth and Russell, Aitezaz and I. I would invite them over to dinners where they would meet new people and become friends with ease. Ruth in particular was effervescent. A bright light in any gathering. Russell would be quieter, lovely in his own way. He always gifted me a book, whenever we met after a bit of a break, a play or a collection of poems.

There are so many more memories. Their house on Crosman Terrace with a tree leaning in near the entrance, the conversations we had as we walked everywhere in London, Sunday Mass at Westminster Abbey, the trip to Stratford-upon-Avon, New Year Eve’s fireworks in Trafalgar Square, attending Russell’s class on myths and fairy tales, having lunch with him at the Elmwood Inn, dinners and art openings, plays and books, and much more.

My husband often said that Ruth and Russell are from a greater generation, that they don’t make Americans like that anymore. I agree. It was an honor to know you and learn from you, dear Russell.

[With Ruth and Russell Peck, London, 2013]

our piece in contending modernities

we have been working on this piece off and on since the beginning of 2023. so proud of this conversation with dr shirly bahar about performativity, solidarity across activist spaces, the relationship between trauma and language, and the importance of reconceptualizing feelings of powerlessness as public and political so as to pursue change. thank u shirly for ur brilliance and vision, thank u Santiago Slabodsky for bringing our work together at hofstra university and activating this piece, thank u josh lupo and atalia omer at Contending Modernities, university of notre dame, for ur editorial support and for publishing our work. to radical politics and solidarity.

my review: agua by pina bausch

so finally, here is my review of pina bausch’s “agua,” which i just saw at BAM. apart from the beauty of her dance language, which i find mesmerizing, there are some issues with this work.

created during a residency in brazil in 2001, agua is supposed to be a refraction of the “landscapes, sounds, movements, and music she encountered into a color-saturated fantasy.”

yet the film projections that act as backdrop to and inspiration for bausch’s choreographed dances are too facile, too superficial. thundering waterfalls, swaying palm trees, jaguars and monkeys in the jungle, along with gigantic amazonian plants and exotic birds all come together to exoticize without the benefit of a more complex, political encounter.

even more problematic is footage of young men from the favelas lost in intense drumming and nude indigenous people swimming seamlessly in rivers, used as background or wallpaper. it reminded me of the colonial gaze that’s evident throughout “out of africa,” where faraway landscapes merge with the flora, fauna, and othered bodies of african people to create a vivid contrast against which white european stories can unfurl.

although bausch’s dancers are famously diverse (ethnically but also in terms of height, body type, and skill set), her work is still quintessentially european and so is her gaze in this piece.

the scenes she creates embody stereotypical touristy images of white people on vacation in a tropical country: people in swimsuits with funny beach towels lounging at a resort, hanging out, getting drunk, having a water fight (in a country where potable water is scarce), having sex outdoors, and dancing the night away.

as thomas hahn has written in his excellent critique, « Agua » : Pina, le Brésil et le réel:

Les images de nature paradisiaque, de tourisme de plaisance, d’ivresse en lounge, et autres fêtes d’une classe aisée dans Agua révèlent aujourd’hui à quel point cette pièce passe à côté de la réalité du pays. Agua est l’œuvre la plus superficielle de Pina Bausch. En 2001 on a pu apercevoir, avec beaucoup de bonne volonté, un semblant d’ironie ? Aujourd‘hui, cela ne tient plus.

pina bausch: a new dance language

pina bausch created a new dance language. u can see its syntax in the fractured phrases and speech elements she configured in her work, held together by a logical structure, with extensions, explorations, and repetitions. modern dance itself developed against the codified tenets of ballet and its male-dominated companies, but pina pushed the genre further, combining dance with theatre, art and music, and completely transforming the european dance landscape.

pina has been criticized for the acts of brutality and humiliation found in her work, and for creating a “theatre of dejection” that embraces the pornography of pain. i can see it both ways.

i understand that she’s reflecting the world we live in by creating rigid gender binaries – women in colorful slip dresses, long hair flowing wildly, and men in suits or slacks with bare torsos. since gender consists of repeated, performative acts (according to judith butler) and depends on “fabrications manufactured and sustained through corporeal signs and discursive means,” bausch is simply establishing the acts that mark someone as “man” or “woman.” many times, the men are aggressive, manipulative, menacing, or mere props to climb on or be carried by.

the women are softer, non-confrontational but strong and athletic. many scenes have the intensity of ritual sacrifice. sometimes the women and men indulge in a dance of mechanical symbiosis, like pulleys and belts that fit and turn together.

there is a “hysterical” woman who rages and screams and wants what’s impossible. many of these ideas (including sexual harassment, frustration and madness) were present in agua, even if they were presented as humorous rather than troubling. there is always a layer of discomfort underneath.

but i can also see how recycling misogyny/violence without presenting an alternative world, can seem to normalize, magnify, and even promote it. more about agua specifically in next post.

tanztheater wuppertal in brooklyn

i’ve been a fan of pina bausch since 2011, when wim wenders’ brilliant film came out, which included interviews with her dancers and performances of her best known, strongest works. what a treat then to be able to see ‘agua’ at brooklyn academy of music yesterday. i found a lone seat, center mezzanine, in the first row, and probably had one of the best views in the entire opera house.
bausch’s work is not always easy to experience, but this is supposed to be her lightest, most joyful, lush and visually spectacular work. more about that later, but i still cannot believe i got to see tanztheater wuppertal dancers live on stage, in brooklyn

my review: a woman under the influence

‘a woman under the influence’ is absolute genius. the writing and direction by john cassavetes is seamless, compacted, organic. gena rowlands, who is at the center of the film, is fearless and original – an erratic woman on the verge of a mental breakdown. she finds an equal partner in peter falk who delivers a surprising performance as her violent, temperamental husband. he misreads her unfailingly, and all he can do when he gets frustrated is to yell or strike. she on the other hand, resorts to over the top, neurotic behavior. it’s as if they lack the social vocabulary to express themselves and communicate with each other.

it’s also that mental health was seen quite differently in the 60s and 70s. same time frame as ‘one flew over the cuckoo’s nest’ when electroshock therapy was common.

the kids are incredible. their scenes with rowlands beautiful, filled with immense tenderness and intimacy.

i was shocked to find out later that the film is 2 hr 26 min long. one is so caught up in the chaos onscreen, that time flies. as it often does in real life.

intl women’s day 2023

on international women’s day, a thank u to the woman at the center of my life. my mother. a lifeline for all four of us growing up in brussels, islamabad, quetta, karachi, lahore, and then many cities in the US. three of us women, all of us expected to excel, to go to competitive schools, have careers, be able to support ourselves, to fight for our rights and the rights of others. the struggle continues. thank u ammi <3

back in new york

it’s difficult to leave pakistan. to leave family and friends and their extraordinary warmth and generosity. people have hard lives in pakistan. it’s not an easy place to navigate or survive. yet it’s saturated with vibrant colors, sounds, textures, tastes, smells, stories, music, poetry, languages, complicated histories, legacies, and constant human contact. the air is filled with this polyphonic mishmash and emotion. it’s something one lives and breathes. returning to the west feels like being stripped of rich human drama, a thick sensorial ether, the full-throated experience of life’s ebb and flow. everything uncluttered, systemized and scrubbed, but lacking soul and connection. antiseptic. oh, i know pakistan can drive one crazy. i know i will get used to the ease and conveniences of the west again. but right now, i feel loss.

art and cafe beirut

yesterday pakistani art at artsoch contemporary and ejaz gallery and then a delicious lunch at cafe beirut in gulberg. we had mutabal (an eggplant dip with a smoky flavor, sprinkled with pomegranate seeds), arayes (grilled pita stuffed with spiced ground beef, onions and parsley, a street food), and om ali, which i fell in love with in oman (it means mother of ali, a traditional egyptian bread pudding, layered with puff pastry, milk, and cream, flavored with rose water and sprinkled with lots of nuts). in the evening i took my parents and daughter to see a play at alhamra. more about that later.

badshahi mosque

badshahi mosque, lahore fort, and lunch at cooco’s den in old lahore with my bacha. the mosque is so beautiful it moved me to tears. commissioned by mughal emperor aurangzeb. built between 1671 and 1673. majestic. grand. but in constant dialogue with its surroundings. every arch a different framing of the mosque and courtyard. the proportions perfection. the artistic taste level divine. breathtaking beauty.

always in my heart dear zainab

pyari zainab, i cannot believe that you left us so soon. i am heartbroken dearest. you will always be a sweet girl to me. the one who brought her girls over, whenever i was in lahore. you wanted us to be close, even though we lived across oceans. how will i meet you this time?

i know there were struggles. i know how much you missed your dear mom and dad, our smiling phuppo aunty iffie and our soft-spoken phuppa. it will be so hard for your daughters. you were the center of their universe. for once, i have no words. just infinite sorrow.

inna lillahi wa inna ilayhi raji’un. surely we belong to god, and to god we return.

adania shibli in lahore

back at the lahore literary festival. wonderful to hear palestinian writer adania shibli talk about her stunning book, minor detail. not sure about the panel – she was paired with william sieghart, a british entrepreneur, publisher and philanthropist, who kept talking about the ‘conflict’ and how dialogue can solve all problems.

so glad adania addressed the use of language and her issues with the word conflict. it’s colonialism, she said. she explained how language can become complicit in a crime, how it can disappear it, and that there is no dearth of dialogue between palestinians and israelis – there is constant contact but it’s a certain kind of interaction, based on power differentials, where palestinians are forced to confront and challenge power structures day in, day out.

adania spoke about her love for the arabic language, how playful, free, and open it is. how important it is to palestinians. ‘adab’ in arabic means both literature and ethics. she also spoke about translation and how it’s essential, even in english, to create a scarred language with a memory of arabic.

finally, she talked a lot about narration and silences. the impossibility of narrating. the linear structure (beginning, middle, end) is not accessible to palestinians, therefore she can only imitate coherence. it’s better to accept silence rather than put words in someone’s mouth. we come to language from two sides of silence – both the reader and writer engage with language in silence.

my favorite session so far.