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New York Times
2 days ago
- Entertainment
- New York Times
Movement as Storytelling
This personal reflection is part of a series called The Big Ideas, in which writers respond to a single question: What is history? You can read more by visiting The Big Ideas series page. 'Why isn't Eva Perón blond?' A New York City audience member asked me this question during a post-performance Q&A for 'Doña Perón,' a work I created for Ballet Hispánico. It wasn't the first time I'd been asked about the historical accuracy of my ballets. Dandara Veiga was the dancer performing the leading role of Evita, the famously blond wife of the 20th-century Argentine president Juan Perón. Veiga is a Black woman with dark hair. Historical accuracy, or merely replicating facts, has never been the objective of my ballets. It was obvious to me why Evita wasn't performed by a blond dancer. I cast the dancer who best expressed the essence of the historical Evita, not the one who matched her hair or skin color. Veiga captured Evita's strong and ambitious exterior along with her inner insecurity and rage over never being accepted by the upper class. I believe ballet shouldn't try to be a dispassionate factual narration of events in sequential order. Ballet is an artistic expression, not a documentary. It has the power to intensify, magnify or even exaggerate reality. Ballet offers a creative freedom that allows us to re-examine history and explore new ways of using movement as a form of storytelling. About 10 years ago, I created my first ballet about a historical figure. I've been hooked on finding ways to convey history through dance ever since. In addition to my ballet on Eva Perón, I've originated five more narrative ballets about historical figures: the fashion designer Coco Chanel, the opera singer Maria Callas, the poet Delmira Agustini and the artists Frida Kahlo and Fernando Botero. I recently worked out a new version of 'Carmen' for Miami City Ballet, based loosely on Molly Bloom, who was indicted by the F.B.I. for organizing underground poker games in the 2000s. Want all of The Times? Subscribe.
New York Times
22-04-2025
- Entertainment
- New York Times
The Darker Side of Japan's Love of Cuteness
To accompany this essay, three Japanese artists created (and named) seven mascots exclusively for T, all inspired by or representing The New York Times in some way. HELLO KITTY STANDS on the balcony like Eva Perón, framed by two great stone pillars and a blue-green dome. At least theoretically she is standing: Save for the round, claw-free paws on the balustrade, she is all giant head, white as a lit-up lamp with sun ray whiskers and the slash of a red ribbon at her left ear, mouthless, her eyes wholly pupils. This little girl — she is not a cat, although not not a cat either (more on this in a bit) — presides over an exhibition at the Hyokeikan, part of the Tokyo National Museum complex in the city's Ueno Park, celebrating her 50 years of existence and global domination. The country that changed modern culture and design, from A to Z Two bronze lions flank the entrance, lushly bearded in the European style but with one's mouth agape while the other's is shut, recalling the komainu (lion-dogs) that for centuries have kept vigil over Shinto shrines, silently forming the sounds 'a' and 'un': alpha and omega, the beginning and the end. There are chains set up to corral crowds into a long, winding queue, but it's an hour before closing and no one is waiting. The scene is eerily calm, in contrast to opening day the week before — Nov. 1, Hello Kitty's official birthday (cute but Scorpio!) — when videos went viral on social media showing delirious fans (or resellers greedy for limited-edition merch) stampeding up the steps under their icon's blandly munificent gaze. The Tokyo-based character designer Hiroshi Yoshii, 62, knew he wanted to use an animal as the basis for one of his mascots and initially considered the owl for its associations with wisdom. Ultimately, though, he chose a tiger to symbolize 'a sharp, unyielding stance against power and a relentless pursuit of truth — qualities that lie at the very heart of journalism,' he says. Tigers, he points out, can be portrayed as either fierce or endearing, making them ideal mascots. And the tiger stripes (torajima in Japanese) — black lines on white fur — reminded him of newsprint. He added extra ears — 'to express its ability to gather vast amounts of information' — which form a Statue of Liberty-style crown in homage to New York City. 'I replaced the torch with a pencil,' he says, 'representing the power of words to illuminate truth.' Explore More Read the editor's letter here. Take a closer look at the covers. Want all of The Times? Subscribe.
The Independent
21-04-2025
- Politics
- The Independent
Pope Francis: the revolutionary pontiff who changed the world and the Catholic Church (but wasn't able to unite it)
, who has died aged 88, after 12 years at the head of the Catholic Church, was probably the most famous Argentinian who ever lived. Unlikely as it may seem, he had an affinity with the former actress and president's wife Eva Perón: both of them understood the power of connecting with the public. 'Ordinary people like a touch of Evita,' he once said, in his early days as a priest. It was a perception that stood him in good stead throughout his 12 years as pope and was apparent from the moment he stood on the balcony of St Peter's Basilica in Rome after his election as pontiff in March 2013. The cardinals went 'to the ends of the Earth' to find a pope, he jokes, and after asking the crowds to pray for him, wished them a good night and a good sleep. 'Enjoy your lunch!' he used to say to people who gathered every week outside the basilica for the traditional Roman Catholic prayer of the Angelus. After the formality of Benedict XVI, whom he succeeded, Francis seemed a breath of fresh air. He lived in a simple residence rather than the apostolic palace and got rid of the pope's fancy furry cape and red shoes. But his papacy was much more than style; there was substance too. Francis took on a church that needed a leader to sort out its crises: a Vatican accused of financial corruption, a worldwide child sexual abuse scandal, ordinary Catholics fed up with sensing they had no voice in their church and feeling it was out of touch with people's lives. And there were all wider issues where the world needed to hear a voice with moral authority, whether on climate change, or dire poverty in the developing world, or the plight of migrants and refugees. The vast majority of Catholics warmed to their pope, who articulated a compassionate form of their faith. 'Who am I to judge?' he said when asked about gay people, who had often been vilified by other prelates. Later, he recommended that priests should offer gay couples a simple same-sex blessing. He stood by the church's traditional teaching on marriage but urged priests to allow divorced and remarried people to receive Communion. The church, he said, should be like a field hospital. But it was not just people in need of care. One of Pope Francis ' most famous interventions was on the planet – what he called 'our common home' in his encyclical, or teaching document, Laudato Si', published in 2015, in which he urged action to care for God 's creation in the face of climate change and environmental degradation. He gave copies to official visitors: no doubt the then Prince Charles would have appreciated the sentiments, but one wonders if Donald Trump, in his first presidential term, put it in the Air Force One bin en route back to Washington. Nor was there love lost between the President and the Pope on the issue of migration. Francis, the child of immigrants to Argentina, showed a particular concern for migrants throughout his pontificate, urging governments to show them compassion. He took particular aim at Trump's plans for a border wall between the US and Mexico, saying that it was 'not Christian'. He also spoke frequently of the need for peace, visiting war-torn hotspots in Africa, and phoning the Catholic parish priest in Gaza every night since the recent conflict with Israel began, even while he was in hospital receiving treatment for pneumonia. But his efforts at peace-making in the Church were not always successful. His banning of the old Latin Mass was seen as vindictive by traditionalist Catholics, while his efforts to sort out the abuse scandal faltered, with experts brought in to help, including abuse survivors, resigning from his abuse commission, saying it was doing too little, too late. Women who were frustrated by their lack of power and representation in the Church welcomed his appointment of women, usually nuns, to official positions in the Vatican, but felt let down that he let an inquiry into women deacons drift. And Francis was as staunchly opposed to women priests as his papal predecessors. What of his legacy? Pope Francis was a great communicator, a religious leader who connected powerfully with so many people. He was a moral giant on the world stage, and while he brought reform to the church, giving lay people more of a voice in decision-making in their parishes and dioceses, he could not heal the divisions between liberal and conservative Catholics. As the cardinals enter the conclave for the election of the next pope, they will have to ask themselves: is there anyone among us who can take on that nigh impossible task?
