ARMENIAN REPORTER
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January 26, 2007 — From the Arts & Culture section
To see the printed version of the newspaper, complete with photographs
and additional content, visit and download the pdf
files. It’s free.
1. The Armenian Age of Pearl (by Paul Chaderjian)
* "Express yourself"
2. Songstress: Eclectic life, eclectic music (by James Martin)
* Sonya Varoujian’s story
3. New Music: Exploring the fanciful world of Vaco (by Lory Tatoulian)
4. Film: Accolades for a young filmmaker
* Recognition in Munich
5. Books: New stories for inquiring young minds (by Adrineh Gregorian)
* Aline Bezdikian publishes a fresh installment in the Lori and Narek series
6. Journalism: Alexandra Bezdikian stands out at Cal Poly San Luis Obispo
7. Animation: Abkarian gives voice to Persepolis (by Vahan Zeitlian)
8. Book review: Targeting Iran: A small but loaded book (by Shushan Avagyan)
9. Theater: Experiencing Baron Garbis: Part I (reviewed by Aram Kouyoumdjian)
10. Teen Talk: A student’s dislike of technology (by Serli Polatoglu)
11. Poetry Matters: The ‘Happy Accidents’ of William Michaelian’s
Verse (by Lory Bedikian)
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1. The Armenian Age of Pearl
* "Express yourself"
by Paul Chaderjian
Many of us are always trying to find a meaning or reasons for how life
unfolds. It’s human nature to ask why, especially when it comes to our
raison d’être. While many may believe in the Chaos Theory, the
Butterfly Effect, or Existentialism, I take my cues from others who
come into my world to introduce new ideas, new ways of thinking, or to
challenge what I know or how I see things.
In each impossible situation, difficult personality, or life hurdle,
I look for the windows that open when a door is slammed in my life. In
each work of art, entertainment, or news story I encounter, I note the
messages and ideas that speak to my heart. I find inspiration in and
ideas from events that may seem circumstantial but indeed may be the
illumination of the path we are individually supposed to take to make
the collective journey that I believe was predestined.
I decided to write this prologue because of an "Aha!" moment at the
Eastern Religion section of the Barnes & Noble in Bakersfield, where I
made a pit stop on my way home to Fresno this week. (And, by the way,
a chain bookstore with clean bathrooms and a coffee shop is the
easiest one-stop location to find inspiration and caffeine on road
trips.)
A book called Teachings of the Buddha talked about creating our own
path and speaking into reality the future that we want. I realized
that week after week, this gem of a section called "Arts and Culture"
doesn’t just report about members of our extended community creating
art, but it is a personal challenge to me and to all of you to follow
the divine message from the great 20th-century poetess Madonna Louise
Veronica Ciccone Ritchie. (Somehow I doubt Lory Bedikian will write
about her in Poetry Matters.)
For months on end, on the radio in 1989 were Madonna’s lyrics, her
anti-ode, her plea for humanity to "Express Yourself." Though the song
was about love, any creative work, be it pop art, infotainment, or
high art, is for the receiver of the art to interpret.
For me, Madonna’s plea was to not hold back the song, the dance, the
words, and the colors that are in all of us. Her words that resonate
in me to this day are not to hold back the personal, not to guard the
life source and the soul that wants to shine in each of us.
As humans, we are storytellers and creators. We not only look like
the image of God, but we are asked to live Godlike, to create like the
Creator. We were created to create and should create to be at peace,
and there has been no better time in the history of humankind than the
now, when all the tools and freedoms of creation are ripe for the
picking like the fruits in Eden.
If Armenian culture had its Golden Age of literature in the 5th
century, let’s call the present the Armenian Age of Pearl. So much has
been deposited into our sea of history, that we’re ripe to create
gemstones. We just have to stop clamming up and be open to expressing
what’s inside each of us.
In this day and age, in the Pearl Age of our diasporan culture, we
have the freedom and the tools, the resources and the inspiration to
write the words we think and share them with others, to make the
movies we envision with our home camera and post them on the Internet,
to record our songs and mix them on our home computers, to use the
free computer labs at public libraries and join community dance groups
or take art classes at adult schools to express what’s in us.
No matter what you have to say, no matter what insight you have, no
matter the innate and inane fear that what we want to create is not
good enough or that it has been done before, we must do what Madonna
and the Buddha preached: express ourselves and speak our own future
into existence. Hey, there are only some 31 original ideas, anyway,
and everything else is a variation (or is that there are only 31
original flavors? I forget).
So take heed artists of either gender, of all ages, whatever your
background, education, socioeconomic status, or lot in life. Thumb
through the next 21 pages and be inspired by Vaco and Sonya Varoujian.
One earns a living as a mechanic but has touched the lives of
thousands of kids. The other is not holding back the songs in her, and
she is taking the stage this weekend at Mosaic II — our community’s
unique talent show.
Read on and you’ll witness Alina, a young filmmaker winning accolades
in Munich, and her sister Alexandra winning accolades in California.
Both not holding back. Witness Mrs. Bezdigian, who is not realted to
Alina and Alexandra, becoming a children’s book guru in her own right.
Note David Barsamian and his unstoppable sense of justice, democracy,
and the freedom of speech. And these types of stories echo and
resonate every week in the pages of the Reporter.
But the art and words we share aren’t just by the experienced writers
among us. Young Serli, at 14, shares her thoughts on being the
recipient of media content. She cues us about the age in which we live
and the technologies that are abundant to us, to create our own poetry
in text messages, our own videos on Current TV and YouTube.
Indeed, the media platforms from blogs to cable TV, from
self-publishing companies to Internet malls, are all hungry for
content, ready to help sell your art and bring you fans. And rest
assured, the gemstones we create in this Age of Pearl will rise to the
top. Witness the number of hits the ArdeshirKhan (AKA Vahe Berberian,
Ara Madzounian, and crew) Turkish-Armenian Reconciliation video has
received on YouTube. People want art, crave it, and will help you
spread it to new audiences.
Just as I am writing you of my Aha! moment, my colleague and friend
Lory Tatoulian will soon take to the airwaves with her one-woman
sketch comedy show. Our copy editor Ishkhan Jinbashian will continue
setting the Armenian literary scene on fire with his second novel.
Sevag Koundakjian will take his experiences on the road with System Of
A Down to rock the film world. Roger Kupelian, Ara Madzounian, and our
own Adrineh Gregorian will, too. Kristen Kidd in Denver will write her
screenplays. Tamar Sarkissian will conquer network media, and Shahen
Hagopian, Shahan Sanossian, James Martin, Lola Koundakjian, and Armina
Lamanna will reach greater heights with their art.
But that’s just the start. Sara Anjargolian and Aram Kouyoumdjian,
who earn a living as attorneys, will create a permanent home for the
arts in Southern California with the former’s magical photographs and
the latter’s golden playwrighting pen and their collective dream to
create an Armenian Center for the Arts. Sirusho and Sofi will make you
dance with their pop hits. Hrant Tokhatyan will inspire new actors.
Arsen Serobian will make the world fall in love with dance. And the
Reporter will spread the word about their individual voices by
reaching a million readers with these pages.
Our art is world art; our media is mainstream media.
So, why are you holding your stories back? Why are you holding back
your rhythm, your taste, your beat, and your moves? Write, sing,
dance, paint, experiment with cuisine in your own kitchen, sing in the
shower, take photographs. Then share.
The world, me, your family, your friends and total strangers, we are
all waiting for you to be the artist, the storyteller, the creator
that we were created to be.
* * *
Paul Chaderjian was last seen near the pets section of the Barnes &
Noble in Fresno, searching for a book that can persuade his mother to
cut down on the number and variety of treats she feeds his overweight
Chihuahua-Terrier.
******************* ************************************************** ******
2. Songstress: Eclectic life, eclectic music
* Sonya Varoujian’s story
by James Martin
When Sonya Varoujian was 15, her uncle brought a guitar to her house.
A week later, when he came back to retrieve it, she had already taught
herself how to play House of the Rising Sun by listening to the 1960
Joan Baez version of the song. Sonya got to keep the guitar.
That moment may have been the catalyst for setting Sonya on a long
and winding journey in pursuit of her life’s passion. Born in England
to Karnitsa and Hagop Varoujian, who absolutely loved singing, Sonya
remembers that their house was often filled with music. "They were
always doing duets and singing at parties," she recalls. But it wasn’t
until she was 12 that Sonya understood the true power of music, during
a visit to Armenia, in 1986.
Sonya grew up in New York, where she attended a Saturday Armenian
school. She did so well in class that she was selected to spend a
month in Armenia with other Armenian students from around the world.
"I was in a camp with kids from Cyprus, Greece, Brazil, England — any
place you can imagine," she says. "I realized the power of music
because of that trip." During a party toward the end of her sojourn in
Armenia, a DJ played Madonna’s "Papa Don’t Preach." "So this song
comes on," she says, "and I’m looking around me and here are all these
kids from all over the world singing this song with passion and
emotion, even though they don’t know the lyrics. That’s when it hit
me: music is universal."
As a young girl, Sonya always gravitated toward music. She often
performed the lead roles in her school’s musical productions or sang
solos in choir performances. She even made it as an All-State Finalist
for her singing achievements. She also sang with the Hamazkayin choir
for three years.
Still, Sonya approached music as not much more than a hobby. That
would change in the years she attended college, when she met guitarist
Greg Jones. While she studied graphic design, Jones’ mentorship helped
her hone her musical skills and led her to write her first song, "Shut
Out."
* A musician comes of age
Later, when Sonya moved to London to continue her studies, she met a
couple of guitarists who were looking for a singer. The musicians were
highly impressed by her vocals, which had a deep, soulful, folk
quality. The musicians quickly recruited Sonya, formed a full band,
and began a series of jam sessions that resulted in the recording of
her first album, on cassette, titled All in All. Sonya remembers those
days as a time of phenomenal musical growth.
Graduating from the university, Sonya moved back to New York, where
she worked as a graphic designer. As the daily grind kicked in, the
world of music seemed to be behind her. "I was severely depressed
sitting in front of a computer for hours, doing absolutely nothing
musically creative," she recalls. She eventually traveled back to
England to rejoin her old band mates, but was saddened to discover
that the chemistry was no longer there.
Sonya returned to New York and this time began to work in the garment
district. Serendipity was around the corner — literally. An Armenian
man who managed a company on the same floor introduced her to his
brother, Oshin Baroyan, a keyboardist and music producer. After a
brief audition, Baroyan exclaimed, "We are recording you. There is no
way we’re not going to record you."
Baroyan subsequently put a band together for Sonya. Called Seven, it
featured Sonya as acoustic guitarist and lead singer, and went on to
record a self-titled album. Seven quickly became a staple on New
York’s club scene, garnering critical acclaim. New York Newsday wrote:
"Sometimes the letter grades above these reviews are not enough. For
Seven, there should be a fourth category: atmosphere. It would get an
A+. Blending Sarah McLachlan-style reverberated piano with Natalie
Merchant-like balladry, Seven creates a lush sound over which Sonya
Varoujian’s voice soars. It’s like aural aromatherapy!"
Seven’s popularity continued to grow with the release of a second
album, Confessions, in 2001. The band’s striking sound drew the
attention of Arista Records, which seriously considered signing Seven
on but at the eleventh hour opted for another band. Losing the deal
was devastating for the band members. Sonya recalls: "The guys were
getting very antsy — some of them were playing in cover bands and
they were telling me, ‘Look… if you want us to keep playing these
gigs, you’ve got to pay us.’" The money generated from concerts was
barely enough to cover rehearsal costs, studio rentals, marketing, and
other overhead. "If I paid one, I had to pay them all and I just
couldn’t afford it. The disappointment [of not getting signed]
basically crushed us," Sonya adds. Six months later, Seven broke up.
Sonya was, once again, back to square one. A year and half prior to
her rise in New York, Sonya’s parents had moved back to London, but
had encouraged her to stay behind because of her continuing success.
In late 2001, as Sonya was trying hard to pick up the pieces, her
parents urged her to join them in England.
* Mixing altruism with art
In England, Sonya studied interior design and held a succession of
dead-end jobs. Without music in her life, she felt the years ticked by
like seconds on a clock and before long she found herself living a
life of meaningless repetition. It wasn’t just music that Sonya found
herself isolated from. When she lived in New York, she was very close
to the Armenian community there. In England she felt increasingly
disconnected from her roots. "I started to lose touch with who I was,"
Sonya says. Luckily for her, change was on the horizon.
Enter the Diaspora Armenian Connection (DAC), a France-based
organization that provides assistance to children in Armenia through
school-building and other programs. "I was at church one Sunday and a
friend of mine told me that he was going to Armenia with the DAC,"
Sonya recalls. After she confessed to her friend that she was very
jealous of his opportunity to go to Armenia, he insisted that she join
the group. Comprised mainly of French-Armenians, the group, which was
leaving in two weeks, was in desperate need of Armenian-speaking
personnel. It was to visit the remote village of Marts near the
northern tip of Armenia, where Sonya would interact with the children
of the town by organizing various arts and crafts projects. Sonya
decided to take her guitar with her to entertain the children. It was
the summer of 2005. While working in Marts, she was exposed to the
music of a number of Armenian folk musicians. The experience re-awoke
her passion for writing music. "I came back completely changed —
actually, not changed — I came back as myself," she says.
The event would spark the idea of recording music in Armenia. Sonya
lost no time to devote herself to her new mission. "I decided to do
it," she recalls. "I started working six days a week." Recording an
album wasn’t the only reason why Sonya wanted to go back to her
homeland. While in Marts, she had been horrified by the dilapidated
condition of the local school. It compelled her to undertake yet
another project, that of raising money to help rebuild the school. She
quit her interior-design job and found a position as a teaching
assistant at an elementary school in Leeds, England, in order to
acquire experience in working with children. Sonya also inspired the
school’s principal, June Turner, to help her fund the Marts project.
Toy sales and other school-based fundraising events followed.
By April 2006, Sonya had collected enough money, including generous
donations from friends and family, to help renovate the Marts school.
She was off to Armenia again. In the four months that she was there,
she divided her time between organizing the school renovations,
recording her album, Janapar, making a music video for one of her new
songs, "Hampyur," playing the occasional concert, and just taking in
as much of Armenia as possible.
Since Janapar’s release in October 2006, Sonya has played concerts
throughout the world. Now living in Los Angeles, she is preparing for
the Mosaic II concert, which will be held on January 26 at the Alex
Theater in Glendale. Other acts appearing in the event include Zulal,
Visa, Cantus Capella, and Ochion and Areni.
Life has thrown many curve balls at Sonya — it’s been a series of
ups and down, trials and triumphs. But no matter how hard the going
has gotten, she was always able to find her true path in the end.
Sonya takes it all in stride, offering a simple philosophy: "When
you’re in tune with yourself and you start to do positive things, then
positive things come your way."
connect:
www.m yspace.com/sonyavaroujianmusic
****************** ************************************************** *******
3. New Music: Exploring the fanciful world of Vaco
by Lory Tatoulian
HOLLYWOOD, Calif. — On the corner of Normandie and Western, in the
heart of Little Armenia, is a mechanic shop where Mercedes Benz
vehicles in various states of disrepair are waiting to be resuscitated
by the masterful hands of Vaco.
The skillful Mercedes technician is not only an expert when it comes
to refining the melody of a well-tuned transmission, but he is an
impresario of Armenian children’s music and song.
The man with many talents is Vartkes Dellalian, a curly haired
musician with a coiffed moustache, and he has been serenading Armenian
children with uplifting music for more than 15 years.
With his original compositions about shapes, colors, and animals,
Vaco has been able to introduce an energetic and colorful repertoire
into the oeuvre of Armenian children’s music.
His soft and puerile voice resonates into the hearts of children and
helps them conjure up a quixotic world, where animals sings and dance
and puppets speak Armenian.
Vaco believes that it is vital to establish a symbiotic relationship
between entertainment and education when producing a children’s album.
He also thinks writing children’s music is not an easy task, because
winning the approval of children and parents can be challenging.
But not only have parents fallen in love with his thought-provoking
lyrics about the environment, recycling and animals rights, but Vaco
provides children with the opportunity to hone their Armenian language
skills and relish in a fanciful world, where everything is imbued with
Armenian stylings.
His office, which sits behind the mechanic’s shop, serves as a
makeshift salon. It is a place where his clients, who are 98 percent
artists, stop by to talk shop about music, art, and literature.
An inverted exchange of music and mechanics occurs; and in this
hyphenated space where art and machinery converge, Vaco says is where
inspiration and magic reveal themselves.
"I have writers, filmmakers, executives from Paramount — they all
come here not only to bring their cars but to talk about their work
with me as artist," Vaco said. "This place for me is a sanctuary."
From this sacred space, decorated with wall-to-wall paintings, art
books, old photos, marionettes and instruments — Vaco has managed to
record three children albums.
His children’s albums include: Mangagan Ashkharh (Children’s World),
Char Armene (The Mischievous Armen), Yerp Yes Medznam (When I Grow
Up), and Mer Nor Darin (An Armenian Christmas).
Vaco has also just released a self-produced album of love songs for
adults called In Love Again.
In his children’s albums, Vaco’s vocals are complimented by his son
Armen and a children’s choir.
Subsequently, Vaco added two video series to his collection and
introduced a furry counterpart — Dodi, a puppet character played by
Stepan Partamian.
Through song and the spoken word, Vaco and his friends teach children
the Armenian alphabet and lessons that help children cultivate their
language and critical thinking skills.
Vaco’s love affair with music and his affinity towards all things
idyllic can be traced back to his childhood in Bourj Hamoud, Lebanon.
As a young boy he was a deacon at the neighborhood Soorp Sarkis
Church, and it was there that the percussive sway of the censer
(pourvar) became music for him.
It was this beat and rhythm that Vaco needed to emulate, so the first
instruments he gravitated towards were the drums, and then he picked
up the guitar.
"My mother was always singing folks songs when she was cooking or
doing house chores," Vaco says. "She had a beautiful voice, and music
was very much apart of my daily reality."
The ebullient musician also refers to Bourj Hammoud as being a place
that was filled with hyperbole and history.
"Bourj Hamoud was like an opera house," Vaco explains. "One family
would be fighting next door, and then from another window there would
be a man singing Sayat Nova, and then in the street somebody would be
yelling at passerby’s on the street, selling something — it was
beautiful mixture of sound."
When Vaco reached his teens, he joined a series of bands that would
entertain audiences at local music and dance clubs in Beirut. His
music reflected the sensibilities of the 70’s rock culture.
In 1970, he recorded the first-ever pop song dedicated to the
Armenian Genocide. The song was then translated and performed in three
languages and won the artist the coveted Philips Silver Disc award.
Other accolades include winning first prize for songwriting at a
prestigious Lebanese Song Festival in 1974 and subsequently receiving
honorary mention at the Armenian Song Festival in 1976, a year after
moving to the United States.
Drawing inspiration from his own three sons, Vaco began writing and
performing children’s music in 1989.
Ever since his initial venture into children’ music, the artist
continues to create playful and imaginative music that helps kids
explore their world in a fantastical way.
connect:
Vacomusic.com
******************** ************************************************** *****
4. Film: Accolades for a young filmmaker
There’s nothing ordinary about Alina Bezdikian. The glittering pages
of her life’s story reveal a talent destined for greatness: piano
lessons beginning at age 3, ballet at 5, playwriting in elementary
school, and an abiding obsession with film. If you were to watch her
life unfold in one panoramic montage sequence, you would see the
fast-moving city lights of San Francisco, Los Angeles, Paris, and
Cairo in flamboyant color schemes of teal, forest green, mauve, and
taupe. Alina’s is a world of creativity, ostentation, imagination, and
passion.
The young filmmaker is already on her way to stardom. Her debut short
film, Michel et Odette, has received wide acclaim at U.S. and
international festivals. Then again, as a 21-year-old director
struggling to break into an industry that is unbreakable, Alina knows
she has a long way to go.
"I love film because it starts as something that germinates in your
head and you create something out of nothing … a part of yourself that
other people can take part in," she says.
Born and raised in San Jose, California, Alina grew up in a somewhat
liberal yet characteristically strict Armenian household without a
television set. The irony was that the absence of television bred in
her a healthy obsession with film.
"I found that to keep myself entertained, I did a lot of reading,"
Alina recalls. "I would read anything I could get my hands on, and
with reading came a profound love and need for storytelling and being
visually inventive. So I guess somehow it segued into film."
From a very young age, Alina was forced to live in a world where
imagination met narrative possibility, a place where visual
storytelling was the norm. And her family was right there to foster
her creativity.
"Growing up in such a rich culture, I was constantly being told
amazing stories that hugely influenced my imagination," she says.
So when exactly did the bookworm turn director? "I decided in high
school that I wanted to be a part of making movies by translating
stories into reality," Alina explains. "I’ve always thought that
there’s a place for me in directing because it’s a collaborative
effort and the director is involved in helping other people’s
creativity come out."
Today, as a senior filmmaker at Loyola Marymount University in Los
Angeles, Alina is already both academically and artistically
acclaimed. Maintaining honors throughout her three and half years in
college, she has led an active and productive life, balancing school
with the constant demands of set and production work.
"The first two years of college were very different than other people
experience them because it wasn’t expected of freshmen and sophomores
to be so devoted," Alina says. "And because I was so passionate about
it, I was called on to work on more things that instilled a work ethic
in me, allowing me to stay on set and work and give it my all because
it was such an opportunity to learn." For Alina, it was a work ethic
that often kept her from experiencing all-too common clichés like
outrageous parties and ridiculous keggers. Instead, she embraced a
life of all-nighters in the editing room and intense film marathons —
precious time spent studying the works of the greatest directors of
our time; work that helped create dedication to her craft.
* Recognition in Munich
Such dedication recently paid off in the most rewarding of ways. This
past November, much to her delight, Alina traveled to Munich, Germany,
to present the culmination of her third year’s work, her debut film,
Michel et Odette, to international audiences by participating in the
Munich International Festival of Film Schools. As the youngest
filmmaker at the festival, Alina’s experience was "surreal but
absolutely fantastic."
"It was my first international film festival and the first of this
scale," Alina says. "I felt very fortunate to be considered amongst
the class of filmmakers that were there."
Michel et Odette tells the story of two idealist lovers caught
between reality and fantasy; two people who unleash a unique brand of
generosity on an unsuspecting city. In this wily homage to French new
wave cinema, and to the directors who have given us Un Homme et Une
Femme and The 400 Blows, this compelling black-and-white short takes
its audience on a riveting journey through the minds and hearts of a
carefree couple unable to live in a world that is not played out in
black and white. It is through this exuberant couple that a sort of
innocence and youthful vitality comes through, propelling the audience
into a multicolored abyss. Michel et Odette, which was shot on
location in San Francisco, features French voice-over and English
subtitles, and has a total running time of just over ten minutes. Well
written, beautifully shot, and boldly edited, the film was hailed as
one of the most imaginative pieces screened at the festival in Munich.
For Alina, this experience was one-of-a-kind. Munich was a magical
time, full of learning and growth. While at the festival, she juggled
interviews and attended several screenings and press parties, all with
unexpected ease. "Although it was very intimidating to be there, I
think every filmmaker craves to have an audience see and critique
their work, because they are making their film to be seen," Alina
says. "So it was a good experience to have international audiences
view and respond to my film."
So what’s next for this young Armenian director? "Someday I hope to
write and direct a feature-length script about my family and their
journey from Turkey to Egypt and eventually to America," she says.
Until then, Alina will be working on postproduction of her fourth-year
thesis and second film. "Every person has a story to tell and those
stories are important to help people understand and to connect with
each other," the filmmaker says. "And regardless of different
situations, film helps bring people together."
********************************* ******************************************
5. Books: New stories for inquiring young minds
* Aline Bezdikian publishes a fresh installment in the Lori and Narek series
by Adrineh Gregorian
The world seen through the eyes of young Lori and Narek is a magical
one. Explorations into the galaxy and adventures throughout Armenia
are just examples of how author Aline Bezdikian brings their world of
imagination to a new generation through her Armenian-language
children’s books.
After the birth of her daughter, Lori (who is now 12), Bezdikian
realized that children’s books sold at Armenian bookstores were the
same ones she read 30 years ago in Lebanon.
"I always liked to write and read," Bezdikian says. "I’m writing so
that kids can have Armenian-language books. I want the kids to want to
read, not just look at the pictures."
In each of her six books, her characters (who are based on her
children, Lori and nine-year old Narek) embark on a quest to satisfy
their curiosity and wild imagination. In the process, they learn
lessons about life, family, and the world they live in.
The theme of her first book, Lori and the Rosebud, was inspired by
her daughter’s curiosity about rose buds. Her second installment,
Narek’s Castle, is the story of a little boy who wants to find the
world’s most beautiful castle. Lori and the Animals tells the story of
a little girl who wants to find out what the most intelligent animal
in the world is. In Narek’s Dream, we learn the importance of taking
care of the world we live in. We find Narek on a field trip in outer
space, visiting the planets. In Bezdikian’s fifth book, Lori and Narek
in Armenia, Lori travels throughout her homeland to find cities or
rivers whose names begin with each letter of the Armenian alphabet.
In December 2007, Bezdikian released her sixth installment, Letters
to Dikran the Great. "I always wanted to write a book on Dikran the
Great but I didn’t know how," Bezdikian says. In it Narek writes
letters to the great king, asking him pressing questions about
Armenian history and identity. It consists of eight letters, each with
a specific theme.
Though Bezdikian’s books are written in Armenian, their stories are
universal. "Suddenly the ideas come and it clicks," Bezdikian explains
as she describes how she comes up with her book concepts. "I always
listen to my children talk to each other," she adds. "I hear of the
issues in their lives, which are not the same as my generation’s, and
learn from them."
Bezdikian also incorporates young Armenian talent in her project. Her
former student, David Karmiryan, 18, illustrated Letters to Dikran the
Great. "I was fascinated by his drawing and he’s a good person," the
author says.
Bezdikian’s creativity extends to several endeavors. "I’m always
interested in mass media as well as educating and entertaining
others," she says. In addition to writing books, she currently teaches
journalism, Armenian, and French, and hosts a storytelling show for
kids on Horizon TV.
connect:
narek.com
************************* **************************************************
6. Journalism: Alexandra Bezdikian stands out at Cal Poly San Luis Obispo
Q&A with Alexandra Bezdikian, recipient of the Ed Zuchelli award for
outstanding senior broadcaster and overall accomplishment in
journalism at Cal Poly San Luis Obispo in Central California.
Armenian Reporter: When did your interest in journalism begin?
Alexandra Bezdikian: I always had an interest in journalism. I
graduated high school in 2002 and was recruited to Cal Poly to play
collegiate soccer. As a freshman, it was a choice between majoring in
journalism or liberal studies. It was in my third year that I
committed myself to becoming a journalist. My minor here at Cal Poly
is in religious studies, and I would like to get my masters or Ph.D.
in religion and the media.
AR: What about internships?
AB: I have had a few internships during my collegiate experience. The
first, with an advertising agency in the Bay area. My second
internship was with KVEC news radio here in San Luis Obispo, and the
third was with KNGY radio in San Francisco.
AR: Do you work on the air on the campus radio station?
AB: I did in fact have to work on air for our campus station. I did
on-the-hour news clips as a requirement for a broadcasting class that
I was in.
AR: Are you involved in the university newspaper?
AB: I am the pop-culture critic for my university’s newspaper, so
yes, I do publish in the newspaper. My column has run for about a
year.
AR: Are you involved in the Armenian students organization?
AB: I was a board member of our Armenian Students Association and
helped get it back up-and-running; but since I left my position last
year, I haven’t really been involved that much.
AR: Are you involved with other groups on campus?
AB: I’m also involved with the religious studies club on campus, the Theisms.
AR: Who are your role models in journalism, TV and in life?
AB: My role models in journalism… Christiane Amanpour. She stands
alone and isn’t afraid to fight for what she believes in. In life…
my father, Leon, and my sister, Alina. Both are just so strong-willed
and determined to make the world a better place.
connect:
*********** ************************************************** **************
7. Animation: Abkarian gives voice to Persepolis
by Vahan Zeitlian
If you watch the French version of the animated picture Persepolis
(now in theaters), you will hear an Armenian voice. The
autobiographical film features Simon Abkarian speaking the part of
writer Marjane Satrapi’s father, Ebi.
While animated, Persepolis is not your typical cartoon. It is,
rather, Satrapi’s coming-of-age story, set in Tehran during the
Iranian Revolution of 1979. Satrapi’s progressive parents are
aggrieved to watch their country fall under repressive religious rule.
To distance their daughter from the fundamentalist regime — and
Iran’s war with Iraq — they send her to Austria. There, Satrapi
encounters little more than disillusionment, moving from residence to
residence until she actually finds herself on the streets of Vienna
after a brief romantic relationship ends in betrayal. She points out,
with irony, how she survived a war and a revolution back home, only to
be nearly felled by a "banal" love affair.
The film then traces Satrapi’s return to Iran, where she enters into
a loveless marriage, obtains a divorce, and is finally dispatched by
her parents to France, where she has lived since.
It was in France that Satrapi first wrote her story in graphic novel
form before adapting it for the screen. The resulting film (which she
co-directed with Vincent Paronnaud) has the look of a New Yorker
cartoon with angular features accentuating the animation.
In the film, Satrapi’s father is depicted as a forward-thinking
intellectual with a gentle heart. Abkarian speaks his lines with a
caring voice, as Ebi tries to absorb the frightening changes whirling
around him. Abkarian strikes the perfect tone in the film’s emotional
moments, when Ebi must bid adieu to his beloved daughter, but still
manages to deliver moments of unexpected humor. In one instance, the
Satrapi car is stopped by police while the family is driving home from
a party, and Ebi is suspected of having consumed alcohol — a no-no
under Islam. He sends his daughter and his elderly mother ahead to
empty all the bottles in the house, then yearns for a drink after he
gets rid of the officers.
The Paris-based Abkarian, who speaks numerous languages, easily
navigates between French, English, and Armenian films. He is perhaps
best known to Armenian audiences for portraying the titular character
in Aram and the painter Arshile Gorky in Atom Egoyan’s Ararat,
although his ethnic features landed him the plum role of a Lebanese
immigrant — a doctor-turned-cook — opposite Joan Allen in the Sally
Potter film, Yes. Of late, Abkarian has been cast in such high-wattage
fare as the newest James Bond installment, Casino Royale, and the
political thriller Rendition, starring Jake Gyllenhaal, Reese
Witherspoon, and Meryl Streep.
In Persepolis, Abkarian is joined by screen legend Catherine Deneuve,
who voices Satrapi’s mother. (Deneuve’s real-life daughter provides
the voice of Satrapi). Deneuve repeats her performance in an English
version of Persepolis, but Sean Penn steps in to voice the role of the
father.
Abkarian and Deneuve were among the luminaries at last year’s Cannes
Film Festival, where Persepolis was in contention for the prestigious
Palm d’Or and won a jury prize. Stateside, it has been a critical
darling and has already captured Best Animated Feature honors from the
Los Angeles Film Critics Association and the New York Film Critics
Circle. This week, it garnered an Academy Award nomination in that
category as well (despite having fallen off Oscar’s short list for
Best Foreign Film). Voters — and viewers generally — have obviously
been engrossed by Satrapi’s story, even as they have been impressed by
the 80,000 drawings used to comprise the 130,000 images of the
luminous black-and-white film.
In the meantime, Abkarian has already moved on to a number of
projects and will next be seen in La Bombe Humaine (The Human Bomb),
scheduled for release this year.
******************************************* ********************************
8. Book review: Targeting Iran: A small but loaded book
David Barsamian, Noam Chomsky, Ervand Abrahamian, and Nahid Mozaffari.
Targeting Iran. City Lights, 2007. 206 pp.
by Shushan Avagyan
In his Targeting Iran, David Barsamian, author of several books and
founder of Alternative Radio, interviews Noam Chomsky, Ervand
Abrahamian, and Nahid Mozaffari about Iran’s complex history, both
past and present, important moments in US-Iranian relations, and the
cultural achievements of contemporary Iranians. "The purpose of this
book," writes Barsamian in his excellent introduction, "is to offer a
primer on the escalating crisis between the United States and Iran, to
provide the reader with critical background information often omitted
when U.S. media discuss Iran, and to introduce readers to some of the
deeper political and cultural issues at play in contemporary Iran."
The first part of Targeting Iran features linguist Noam Chomsky, one
of the leading dissident voices for peace and social justice, who
discusses the Bush administration rhetoric on Iran and its typical
imperial aspirations through its media propaganda campaign to instill
fear in both Americans and Iranians. Suggesting cronyism and
corruption, he explains the basic policies and interests of the
current U.S. administration trying to fill the pockets of their rich
friends, get into a position where they can police the world so that
everyone abides by their rules, and intimidate the world by force.
Chomsky also discusses the 1953 overthrow of Prime Minister Mohammad
Mussadegh by the CIA, which destroyed democracy in Iran and ultimately
led to the events of 1979. Finally, Chomsky comments on Iran’s
so-called nuclear threat to the world and how Bush propaganda against
the "axis of evil" has diverted our gaze from the real security issues
like the U.S.-Israeli threats to bomb Iran.
The second part features Ervand Abrahamian who is a professor of
history at the City University of New York and is regarded by many as
the foremost historian of contemporary Iran. He talks about the
devastating consequences of the Iran-Iraq war and the use of chemical
weapons that the U.S. was secretly supplying to the Iraqis, while the
UN and the international community were standing by and watching.
Abrahamian also discusses the Iranian constitution and its political
structure as a pluralistic, oligarchical system with various centers
of power. He talks about the current president Mahmoud Ahmadinejad,
and draws parallels between him and George Bush, emphasizing the
similarities of their style, rhetoric, and mentality. Finally, he
touches upon Iranian relations with the senior clerical figure in
Iraq, Ayatollah Sistani, who is Iranian, and Iran’s stance on
Palestinian issues.
The last part features Nahid Mozaffari, a brilliant author currently
residing in New York who talks about Iran’s great cultural
achievements and the women’s movement as part of that cultural
heritage. She discusses her involvement with the PEN anthology of
contemporary Iranian literature, Strange Times, My Dear (Arcade 2005),
a rich collection of short stories, excerpts from novels, and poetry
by the most innovative and new voices from Iran. She lists some of the
influential authors, including writers and poets in exile who have
been tremendously productive in representing Iranian culture and
demystifying the romantic and oriental depictions that have pervaded
since the Age of Romanticism in the West. Mozaffari also talks about
an important Iranian feminist poet, Forough Farrokhzad, who was killed
in a car accident in 1967 but still has a very big influence in Iran.
In her elucidating overview, Mozaffari shows the complex intersection
of resistance and culture, art, poetry, literature, film in Iran and
the production of a vibrant, rich and diverse work, despite the heavy
impositions and censorship by the Islamic regime since 1979.
Written in a very informative and accessible language, this compact
book is an excellent introduction to the political complexities of the
Iran-U.S. conflict, Iran’s internal dynamics and competing forces, and
the cultural resistances to repressive systems, such as the Council of
Guardians, Revolutionary Guard, and Bush administration. This lucid
text will be most useful for interdisciplinary courses, and anyone who
is interested in current events, politics and the Middle East.
* * *
Shushan Avagyan is a doctoral student in English and Comparative
Literature at Illinois State University.
************************************* **************************************
9. Theater: Experiencing Baron Garbis: Part I
reviewed by Aram Kouyoumdjian
After a hiatus of almost two decades, Vahe Berberian has returned to
the task of writing and directing multi-character Armenian-language
dramas. His latest effort, Baron Garbis, is an expertly crafted
character study that newly premiered at the Whitefire Theatre in
Sherman Oaks, where it will play through March 9.
In the interest of full disclosure, let me admit that I do not have
the same distance from Baron Garbis that I do from most of the plays I
review. Aside from my personal friendship with Berberian, I have a
direct connection to this play, having contributed an essay to its
playbill regarding the context in which it was written.
That context alone makes Baron Garbis an important work. In the
virtual void that is Armenian-language diasporan drama, Berberian
provides a rare voice — one that has been silent for some time.
Although he has been busy composing and performing monologues, Baron
Garbis marks his first play with a full cast in nearly 20 years.
Central to the three-character piece is the grouchy octogenarian of
the title who has grown increasingly sardonic and contrarian ever
since the death of his wife. He lives a life both frustrated and
frustrating, isolated from friends and contending with physical
ailments and loneliness. His only regular visitors are his son,
Jirair, and his grandson, Khajag.
Berberian devotes a substantial part of the first act to developing
this compelling character — a firebrand in his youth who still
retains a fighter’s spirit, almost recklessly so, in his twilight
years. An unusually lengthy visit by Jirair gives the old man an
opportunity to riff on the past and grumble about the present. The
writing here bursts with flavor, as Berberian captures the nuances of
the Armenian dialect unique to certain parts of Beirut, and there is a
remarkable authenticity to the way Maurice Kouyoumdjian (no relation
to me) speaks his lines as Baron Garbis.
On this particular day, Jirair happens to have a bit of distressing
news for Baron Garbis (although one would not know it, given the
nonchalant way in which he engages in conversation until the opportune
moment arrives for his announcement). It seems that Dzovig, the
daughter that Baron Garbis disowned 40 years ago for marrying a
non-Armenian man — is planning a trip to see Jirair and his family …
and, hopefully, her father.
Baron Garbis’ adamant refusal to see his daughter fuels the conflict
of the play, which climaxes in the stunning revelation of a family
secret. Berberian builds up tension through taut exchanges as he
explores questions of honor, revenge, and forgiveness, all within the
framework of intergenerational clashes. His ability to keep the drama
>From devolving into melodrama is a testament to his talent — and his
keen ability to inject piercing humor into his writing. His staging
keeps the action fluid and the pace appropriately brisk.
Kouyoumdjian is exceptional in the title role, lovable in his
stubborn ways and hilarious in his impatience; he is equally at ease
while deadpanning a comic phrase or emoting heartbreak while
acknowledging his failures (as when he helplessly utters, "I did what
I knew"). His performance is well matched by Sako Berberian’s
effective turn as Jirair; he ably acquits himself even though at times
the script treats his character merely as a foil to Baron Garbis.
Roupen Karakouzian completes the generational chain as Khajag, surely
the least developed character of the three and almost tangential to
the storyline. Unfortunately, a tentative performance by Karakouzian
prevents him from overcoming this disadvantage.
It is noteworthy that all three roles are double-cast. At alternating
performances, Ara Baghdoyan, Ara Madzounian, and Christopher Bedian
step into the roles of Baron Garbis, Jirair, and Khajag, respectively.
I am looking forward to a repeat viewing of the play with this
different cast, whose members — and audiences — undoubtedly
experience Baron Garbis in their own distinctive way.
* * *
Aram Kouyoumdjian is the winner of Elly Awards for both playwriting
(The Farewells) and directing (Three Hotels). His latest work is
Velvet Revolution.
************************************* **************************************
10. Teen Talk: A student’s dislike of technology
by Serli Polatoglu
I believe that because mass media attention has begun to trivialize
subjects like substance abuse, our society has become increasingly
more susceptible to addictions. What’s our latest fix? Obnoxious,
unnecessary, modern technology.
It may sound a bit dramatic to call our infatuation with technology
an addiction, but I ask you, how many hours a day do you spend
checking your e-mail? Texting? IMing? Watching TV? Are any of these
numbers indicative of addictive behavior? I know mine are.
I give you Exhibit A: One anonymous teenager confesses to texting at
least 30 times per day, and spending 4 hours IMing. She was unable to
keep from texting for a mere 45 minutes — if you do not find these
numbers appalling then my diagnosis would be that you, my friend, are
an addict as well.
Technology has become our medium of communication with the outside
world. In response to the question "Why spend so much time online?"
most of us would answer, "To talk to my friends." This leaves me to
wonder, whatever happened to good old-fashioned human contact?
Though I am an advocate of communicating with our fellow human beings
in person, I must say, at least the telephone allows us to hear one
another’s voices. I believe modern technology completely dehumanizes
things.
It gives people a chance to live totally separate lives. On several
accounts, I have heard my friends complain of how different people can
act online. They can seem so warm and caring, and in person they
pretend you don’t even exist.
Now, I try not to divulge in these unorthodox means of communication
too much, but I do admit that I am addicted to TV. It pains me to
attack an invention that I love so much, but that’s exactly the
problem! I’m not supposed to love an object — it’s unnatural!
I think it’s safe to say I’ve watched everything there is to watch.
I’ve seen every episode of every TV show in the world. I’ve seen the
same episodes so many times I can finish the actor’s lines for them.
That’s what scares me — watching the same thing over and over again
doesn’t bore me. I find things just as riveting and compelling the
second, third, and fourth time around.
You know why? Because it’s mind-numbing television. I don’t think
when I watch TV — I don’t have to! I just sit there and watch,
blissfully unaware of the happenings in real life.
There is a war going on people, and by watching TV nowadays you
wouldn’t even know it. I’m sad to say I probably know more about the
Britney Spears shaving incident than I do about Iraq. (Did you know
that the hairdresser was Armenian? I saw it on E! News.)
One other thing that scares me — I learn so much from TV. Not
educational things mind you, but how to avoid social inadequacies,
about relationships, death, loved ones moving away, and to avoid
asking out two people to the same dance (that never works, so don’t
try).
Aren’t our parents supposed to teach us this stuff? It’s as if mom
has been replaced with June Cleaver or Carol Brady. Big sis now goes
by DJ Tanner. Little bro is the equivalent of Henry on Grounded for
Life, or Matt on Lizzie McGuire. I don’t even have a little brother,
and yet I know how annoying one would be.
Though I’ve managed to keep in touch with a simpler, more traditional
time, I attribute that to the mere fact that I am a technological
idiot — and I thank God for that every day.
Now, I only have one piece of advice to us kids that have grown up in
the generation of iPods and Intel. Hide the remote, light the
fireplace, and curl up with a real-live book while you can. Soon
they’ll all be on iBooks or something. Unless we decide to go the
Fahrenheit 451 route.
* * *
Serli Polatoglu is the 14 year old Op-Ed Editor for the AGBU
Manoogian-Demirdjian School DHS Digest newspaper..
************************************* **************************************
11. Poetry Matters: The ‘Happy Accidents’ of William Michaelian’s Verse
by Lory Bedikian
Reading poetry, at times, can be a harrowing task. The distress may
come from reading poems that exist for the sake of a writer exhibiting
their knowledge of words or forms. Sometimes, it is not the lexicon of
a poet that repels us, but their ego on the page, or perhaps it is our
own fault, as readers, of not wanting to make the effort to enter
these rooms and observe the art upon the walls, even if the shapes
make no sense or are unfamiliar to us.
I recently discovered the newly published books of William
Michaelian: Another Song I Know and Winter Poems. Michaelian’s poems
and their speakers present the antithesis of such matters I mention
above. The word choices and images are understandable, and the
intentions of these small songs, or short poems (sometimes longer)
seem to be in "finding out" than "showing off." His work is full of a
somber sincerity or a mild melancholy presented in a voice as simple
and complex as a leaf in one’s palm.
In the "Author’s Note" to Another Song I Know Michaelian writes: "to
me a short poem is a happy accident." He revels in not only the amount
of time it takes to write these poems, but also in the wonder of
capturing what may be a complicated topic in so few words. The short
poems in this book often begin with nature, sometimes objects, and end
in self-reflection or open-ended questions to the speaker himself and
his readers.
Another Song I Know fills its pages with leaves, bridges, water,
fruits, fields, and, again, questions. Clever moments of
personification appear, for instance in "Chairs" when it is pointed
out that "Not all of them are happy: / some groan because they
remember, / and wish they could escape / into the next room," or as in
the neighboring poem "Clocks" where the objects are "protective of
their places / beside the bed or on the wall. // Jealous, too, of the
hands / that placed them there."
In this volume, the most charming poems are those small notes to
loved ones, a beloved, mother or father. In "Instead of Words" the
speaker is apologetic to the beloved when admitting "On a quiet
evening scented by cottonwoods / and river mud, I leave you waving /
on the old front porch we still don’t have." The extended metaphor in
"The Age of Us All" exemplifies the strength in Michaelian’s simple
diction, but complex emotional resonance:
* The Age of Us All
My father is a boat
no longer fit to sail.
He sits in the harbor,
rocking in a wooden chair
by the fireplace,
waiting for the tide
to take him out.
If both of us survive,
come spring, I’ll lift him
out of the water
and scrape the barnacles
from his feet.
He will like that,
and I will too.
Additionally, the specifics in these poems, such as "cottonwoods" or
"barnacles" give the poems texture, something we can see, imagine and
thus the color of the verse, the true voice of the speaker and what he
chooses to see from the world around him. Generalities such as
"evening" or "spring" would not be as effective on their own and would
not provide the unique voice, which we do receive because of those
tangibles.
In Winter Poems – where poems come in all lengths – the speaker
exudes sympathy for the natural world, such as in "To the Spider
Outside the Kitchen Window." The speaker tells us "It’s strange to
build a web / this time of year, / but I think I understand." Or as in
the poem "Reflection" where the speaker vows he has "heard whole
forests weeping. / And it’s more than just a sound. / It’s our sorrow
speaking."
The strongest moments in Winter Poems arise when Michaelian himself
seems to dance with the sounds of language. In "Mardi Gras" it is
winter while "robins spy / pyracanthas" and from the berries "drunken
voices / erupt among the thorns." In "Daylight Journal" we find within
it "a crush of star waiting / behind a full moon." And in "Madness
Revived in Distance Born" one should read aloud "moss-slick curbs, the
emerald shores / of child-cake houses lined in rows, / with
button-bells and blinds that roll / and painted eyebrow shutters."
Michaelian’s use of the natural landscape, personification and sonic
texture is playfully woven together in one particular poem where we
listen to one month of the year address the other:
* What December Said to January
Let the record
show I did
not go willingly.
Nor am I impressed
by the ruse you
call "The First,"
which you use
to hide the fact
I passed this way.
I am offended,
not ended.
Do not forget,
I have frozen ponds
and cast blood-red berries
to the ground; I have
blotted out the sun.
You have crocuses,
I’ll grant you that;
but I have summoned them;
the rest you leave for
spring to solve.
My advice to you?
Take pride in what you do
and never follow suit;
your days are numbered;
be true to them.
Michaelian is a poet who puts a philosophical statement in a coffee
cup, or asks metaphysical, spiritual questions along the rivulets of a
winter pond. His readers will be asked to walk alongside trees,
contemplate shoes or coats, while the landscape is momentarily colored
with berries and barns, grays and greens. The poems are full of simple
words, sometimes few, but the sincere feelings left with us resonate.
When you read these books, the poems inside, no matter the size, will
remind you of looking into that simple/complex leaf in your palm, and
the experience will be either a revelatory, somber or happy one, I’m
sure, but no accident.
"The Age of Us All," from Another Song I Know, William Michaelian,
Cosmopsis Books, 2007. Reprinted with permission.
"What December Said to January," from Winter Poems, William
Michaelian, Cosmopsis Books, 2007. Reprinted with permission.
* * *
Lory Bedikian received her MFA in Poetry from the University of
Oregon. Her collection of poetry has been selected as a finalist in
both the Crab Orchard Series in Poetry Open Competition and the Crab
Orchard Series in Poetry First Book Award Competition.
************************************ ***************************************
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