Unless you have been living under a rock for the last 7 days, (and let’s admit, who can blame you?) you would have been bombarded continuously by the countless news stories related to the London Riots.
24 hour TV coverage, specialist radio programmes, You-Tube videos, Facebook and Twitter posts; a media frenzy that has tornadoed through our lives, ripping across the seams of society and leaving behind a littering of moral panic.
Looting the general public of their ability to make informed decisions and tarnishing the young population with the same photo-shopping, cutting and pasting sensationalist brush.
The digital age has brought with it access to a million points of view, all at once, and all trying to nudge us into thinking a particular way. The news has always been biased, but as a growing commercial enterprise, there’s no escape. The lines between reality and a regurgitated represented reality are being blurred, so much so that the media has an ever increasing and frighteningly high stake in public opinion.
Logging on to Facebook last Monday, about 98% of people’s statuses were riot-based, and interestingly enough there seemed to be divide between those that lived within the areas that were hit by the riots, and those that lived in, say, the Surrey or Oxfordshire countryside.
The majority of London dweller’s statuses attempted to attack the problems behind the rioting, whereas those who were not directly hit by the riots were attacking the yobs, criminals and looters. The interesting contrast here is the level of mediation that each resident has been subjected to, with questionable originality regarding the construction of these ‘opinions’.
Perhaps what we need, to combat this encroaching deluge of media influenced opinion, is to develop alternative ways of thinking. Perhaps we can take influence from the artistic and creative thinkers of this world, who often indulge in critical analysis. If the public were to begin to recognise their own creative validity within the cultural sphere, perhaps public opinion would become more public-led, rather than led by those at the top of the media chain (Rupert Murdoch, anyone?).
So what if creative thinking could be applied as a solution to other aspects of the riots?
The arts have been one of the industries worst hit by the government cuts. Jobs in the arts are becoming increasingly rare, budgets for the arts and humanities departments in higher education institutions are being slashed, and arts companies are facing great holes in their staffing structure, which they struggle to fill through lack of funds.
The arts are seen as a luxury, a cultural-add on for countries that can afford it. But what the government did not consider is how the arts actually shape society. Art is not an extra, art is essential for a country’s social infrastructure, especially one in ‘financial meltdown’. Particularly for young people, art provides a way of expression that cannot be sought through any other means.
A favourite quote by John Martin states, ‘Life depends on science but the arts make it worth living’.
The riots came after 8 out of 13 youth clubs were shut down by Haringey Council. So how can the government think that the arts are an expendable resource?
Ok, so a lot of the rioters did just want new tellys and trainers. But what happens if we replace this obsession with material goods - this all-encompassing consumerist society, with a passion for something else?
A passion for making music for example, or dance, or art. Creative thinking is not something that can just be switched on and off, it is a matter of displacement. Art is something that can bring people and communities together, it is something that encourages a new and different way of thinking, a way that is desperately needed, more so now than ever.
09/08/2011
Album Review: Ritual Union by Little Dragon
Ritual Union, released in July 2011, is the third album by Swedish electronic band Little Dragon. Allegedly named after lead singer Yukimi Nagano’s fiery tantrums in the recording studio, Little Dragon have been making music since 1996. Their two previous albums, self titled Little Dragon released in 2007 and 2009’s Machine Dreams make excellent predecessors of Ritual Union, a seemingly more simplistic and paired down album compared to their previous sweeping electronic backdrops and epic instrumentation.
Ritual Union seems to take more of a minimalist approach, with the newly released title track relying heavily on an electronic baseline that’s tapped neatly out on the keyboard. This ostinato is nevertheless successfully catchy, and fits well underneath Nagano’s sensually breathy but sweetly simple vocals.
The album is produced excellently; balancing the percussive element well as it scuttles around underneath the layers of audio, minutely whispering its presence and getting under your skin. However this means that the music’s quality and intricate nature can only really be appreciated through higher calibre headphones. Through normal-average-Joe-poor-student speakers it’s a shame to say that Ritual Union is enjoyed best as background music. Very good background music, but still background music. Not lift music though, that would just be insulting.
The hint of Japanese influences seem to have disappeared from this album, a trait that softly lingered throughout Machine Dreams, and has been replaced by more of an 80’s vibe. Particularly in the fourth track Shuffle a Dream; slightly La Rue, slightly Blondie, and slightly suitable for jumping around to in spandex and an awful perm.
The same can be said for the 8th track Nightlight, however with a more affluent array of rhythmic patterning, Nagano’s delicate and airy vocals wind themselves cleverly around the surrounding electronic labyrinth.
It is sad to say that Little Dragon’s reductive approach to this album seems to have resulted in them perhaps taking out a little too much. From listening to it I find myself wanting after a few more expansive vocals as seen in A New from Machine Dreams, where Nagano’s beautifully and extremely capable voice echoes ethereally across a thicker and richer tapestry of sound. Everything seems a bit clipped, a bit quiet, as if Little Dragon’s new studio has been built next to a library or a maternity ward.
If you are new to Little Dragon I highly recommend a visit to their earlier albums before delving into Ritual Union. If you fancy a mix of La Rue, James Blake, with a little Cinematic Orchestra thrown in there, give Little Dragon a go. No doubt they will continue to evolve in their music making and challenge their listeners further – a respectable trait in today’s auto-tuned, consumerist music scene.
Ritual Union seems to take more of a minimalist approach, with the newly released title track relying heavily on an electronic baseline that’s tapped neatly out on the keyboard. This ostinato is nevertheless successfully catchy, and fits well underneath Nagano’s sensually breathy but sweetly simple vocals.
The album is produced excellently; balancing the percussive element well as it scuttles around underneath the layers of audio, minutely whispering its presence and getting under your skin. However this means that the music’s quality and intricate nature can only really be appreciated through higher calibre headphones. Through normal-average-Joe-poor-student speakers it’s a shame to say that Ritual Union is enjoyed best as background music. Very good background music, but still background music. Not lift music though, that would just be insulting.
The hint of Japanese influences seem to have disappeared from this album, a trait that softly lingered throughout Machine Dreams, and has been replaced by more of an 80’s vibe. Particularly in the fourth track Shuffle a Dream; slightly La Rue, slightly Blondie, and slightly suitable for jumping around to in spandex and an awful perm.
The same can be said for the 8th track Nightlight, however with a more affluent array of rhythmic patterning, Nagano’s delicate and airy vocals wind themselves cleverly around the surrounding electronic labyrinth.
It is sad to say that Little Dragon’s reductive approach to this album seems to have resulted in them perhaps taking out a little too much. From listening to it I find myself wanting after a few more expansive vocals as seen in A New from Machine Dreams, where Nagano’s beautifully and extremely capable voice echoes ethereally across a thicker and richer tapestry of sound. Everything seems a bit clipped, a bit quiet, as if Little Dragon’s new studio has been built next to a library or a maternity ward.
If you are new to Little Dragon I highly recommend a visit to their earlier albums before delving into Ritual Union. If you fancy a mix of La Rue, James Blake, with a little Cinematic Orchestra thrown in there, give Little Dragon a go. No doubt they will continue to evolve in their music making and challenge their listeners further – a respectable trait in today’s auto-tuned, consumerist music scene.
02/08/2011
Soundwave Festival Croatia 2011
Picture this: you’re strolling along an idyllic seafront, calm waves gently lap against your ankles in pure transparency as the sticky Mediterranean climate breathes a contrastingly fresh breeze across your face. Brightly coloured square buildings line the streets with rows of orange brick roofs, these buildings garishly inhabited by shops, restaurants and apartments for tourists. The sun is setting across the sea, crimson and lilac clouds hang streaked by the brightest yellow. The tangerine sun melts slowly down towards the sea where it is distinguished, leaving behind the most beautiful sky man has ever seen. And through this the sound of heavy dub lingers in the distance, summoning you across the bay to the Soundwave festival site.
Soundwave Croatia took place between the 22nd and 24th July 2011 on the beautiful Petrcane peninsula in Zadar, Croatia. Hailed by London Lite as ‘basically The Big Chill on sea’ (www.soundwavecroatia.com), Soundwave is the brainchild of perfection by events companies Soundcrash and New Bohemia. Recognised for their effortlessly alternative and downright brilliant line-ups and DJs, the two combine to bring Croatia an assortment of the best dub step, jazz, electronic and reggae, with sets often uniting all of the above genres.
A far cry from the mud slopes of Glastonbury, the festival site itself is a thing to behold. With its intimate capacity, one stage is a mere hop skip and a boogy away from the other. By day, the well used festival site known as The Garden is a peaceful abyss. Set on a wooded peninsula surrounded by the warm Adriatic sea, festival goers can lounge in their tanned bikini bodies, watch the waves and the world go by, supping on sweet Somersby’s cider. There is beach volleyball for the more active visitor, or the sought after boat parties that sail along the coast, playing host to some of the festival’s DJs. Sound checking echoes across the beach as the acts warm up for a 1pm start, allowing the hungover to gracefully recover before partying again.
By night, the site takes on a more magical appearance. The trees are illuminated in blue, green, red and purple whilst their trunks are wound with sparkling fairy lights. On entering the site, dancing is suddenly a pre-requisite, and you feel the need to throw some shapes whilst travelling to your desired destination. This often results in some interesting new dance techniques. To your right is a collection of sea front bars; a tropical themed tiki bar, a wine bar for an optimum view of the sunset and the beach bar stage – a purpose built dance floor which suspends over the beach. Here you can bob around to some hard core dub step, club style lights flashing across the sea for braver ravers to try their moves on the slippery stone beach.
Towards the far end of the festival site is a catering area with simplistic offerings of burgers, chicken and chips. Options of wraps and salads are also available however turned out to be the messiest thing ever to be consumed during a live set. Attempting to enjoy a band while your food disintegrates in your hand is not the most enjoyable experience. However the surrounding village of Petrcane offers a vast range of very cheap Italian (!) food for most tastes and requirements.
The main attraction of the site is of course the main stage. During the opening night this stage saw the delights of Roots Manuva and Bonobo, personal favourites on Friday and Sunday evening. Bonobo’s chilled soundscape wrapped itself around the space like a cloud of purple smoke, enveloping the audience and keeping them thoroughly capsulated. Live flute and clarinet floated loftily over murky bass notes and catchy rhythms, enhancing the richness of the audio experience. Roots Manuva’s legend status was evident as he got the whole garden singing along to his monumentous deep and poetic lyrics.
Earlier on the Friday the stage was graced by Brighton based singer/songwriter Andreya Triana. Her voice like honey, melting effortlessly across her exquisite vocal range. Andreya ran through favourites A Town Called Obselete and Lost Where I Belong, a song soulfully describing the hardships of a struggling singer, from her recent album of the same name. She then rounded off the performance with an acapella version of Sweet Dreams by Eurythmics. Using her stunning voice in instrumental harmony to great applause, Andreya grinned along with the audience, both parties feeling as if they’ve experienced something uniquely special.
Saturday was kicked off by the limitless Riot Jazz, a jazz band fully equipped with Sousamaphone, a brass instrument that winds around the players body as if he is attempting to play an attacking snake. Riot jazz belted out covers of The Human League and Marvin Gaye, getting every member of the audience crazy dancing. As the expert MC shouted over thunderous brass rhythms, the audience responded with further hip twisting, head nodding and foot tapping.
The ethereal Little Dragon topped the bill on Saturday night, an utterly spine tingling set. Front woman Yukimi Nagano‘s sugary tones delicately decorate the captivating electronic backdrop as she commands the stage, energetically crashing out rhythms with her hands on the gigantuous lit up drum kit. The violet and fuchsia lighting, echoing melodies and glittering percussion turns this performance into something otherworldly. Perfect accompaniment to a perfect setting. If you like good music in beautiful surroundings, I would thoroughly suggest a trip to Soundwave in summer 2012. It won’t disappoint.
08/07/2011
Get What You Need
Its been a while since I've had a revelation. Particularly through the deepest and darkest depths of my final year, anything other than coursework that involved more than an amoeba level of brain activity was left for a rainy day. I was enveloped by the bubble of campus as it swelled around me, warm and womb-like. News of the outside world tended to hit the outside skin and was deflected as if hitting a forcefield, not through disregard, but through a sheer inability to compute. Basic automatic tasks could be dealt with - cooking, shopping, laundry, whilst my dissertation swirled inside my head, seeming to mimic my clothes as they made a similar journey around the drum of the washing machine.
Having lived my life like this since October, finishing my degree left me feeling slightly empty. There was no jumping up and down, no crying, no whooping or hollering. The ceremonial opening of my results was met by what I can only describe as a slight noise at the back of my throat.
Then comes the avalanche of expectancy. By this I mean the sudden popularity of the phrase 'so... what are you going to do now??!' by everyone in your direct vacinity and further. The next person who asks me that question will get the death stare.
It is very common as a graduate to get that wobbly moment. Especially in the arts, there are no pre-prescribed jobs. No accountancy apprentiship schemes, no NHS shortages. But perhaps that's the exciting thing about it. No journey in an artistic career is linear or sometimes even logical.
I was in class the other day led by dance artist Matthias Sperling, who draws a lot of influence from performance artist and teacher Deborah Hay. During this session he kept repeating the phrase 'get what you need'. In terms of improvisation this can be translated as doing what your body wants to do rather than what your mind tells it. But it got me thinking about other aspects of life, and that maybe the most important thing is getting what you need.
Some people need stability, some people need to use logic, some people need to be around people. Its been a slow realisation for me that my need is in creativity. As artists, if we boil down our ultimate desires and aspirations to a single aspect, a whole world of new opportunities open up. In my opinion, a couple of key ingredients for happiness can help you find stimulation in the most unlikely of places.
If we concentrate on getting the very basics of what we need, we can learn so much along the way. So when the next person asks what I'm going to do now, I'll answer 'I'm getting what I need out of life, are you?'.
Having lived my life like this since October, finishing my degree left me feeling slightly empty. There was no jumping up and down, no crying, no whooping or hollering. The ceremonial opening of my results was met by what I can only describe as a slight noise at the back of my throat.
Then comes the avalanche of expectancy. By this I mean the sudden popularity of the phrase 'so... what are you going to do now??!' by everyone in your direct vacinity and further. The next person who asks me that question will get the death stare.
It is very common as a graduate to get that wobbly moment. Especially in the arts, there are no pre-prescribed jobs. No accountancy apprentiship schemes, no NHS shortages. But perhaps that's the exciting thing about it. No journey in an artistic career is linear or sometimes even logical.
I was in class the other day led by dance artist Matthias Sperling, who draws a lot of influence from performance artist and teacher Deborah Hay. During this session he kept repeating the phrase 'get what you need'. In terms of improvisation this can be translated as doing what your body wants to do rather than what your mind tells it. But it got me thinking about other aspects of life, and that maybe the most important thing is getting what you need.
Some people need stability, some people need to use logic, some people need to be around people. Its been a slow realisation for me that my need is in creativity. As artists, if we boil down our ultimate desires and aspirations to a single aspect, a whole world of new opportunities open up. In my opinion, a couple of key ingredients for happiness can help you find stimulation in the most unlikely of places.
If we concentrate on getting the very basics of what we need, we can learn so much along the way. So when the next person asks what I'm going to do now, I'll answer 'I'm getting what I need out of life, are you?'.
22/06/2011
ONE by Amina Khayyam - A review for Pulse Asian Dance and Music Magazine (www.pulseconnects.com)
One
Amina Khayyam
University of Surrey TheatreReviewed By Lucinda Al-Zoghbi/Sian Goldby
Wednesday, March 23, 2011
Does everything really begin with one or is it that everything ends with one?’
Forming the basis of her solo kathak work, choreographer and dancer Amina Khayyam explores the numerous concepts behind the idea of One. She divides her piece into four sections, each questioning the place of One inside worldly time structures. Where does One fit within a performance? Can One ever exist?
Khayyam’s eighteen years’ training have seen her tour nationally and internationally, for companies such as Akademi and Sonia Sabri amongst others. Khayyam’s artistic focus is a collaborative one, which celebrates the stylistic uniqueness of classical kathak dance and its place within an ever-evolving modern context.
There is evidence of this generous collaborative spirit between the dancer and her musicians, who share a deep understanding through the language of kathak. One features Debasish Mukherjee on tabla, Tarun Jasan on sarod and vocals from Lucy Rahman, and explores her ongoing work with Mukherjee. Khayyam converses with the musicians through body language and musical structures upholding the inseparable link between the two. There is a great informality in the collaboration- it’s almost improvisatory, a refreshing approach when compared with a Western dance format.
Stand-out images are dotted throughout the piece as reference points for the audience. Scattered flowers provide a particularly memorable image as Khayyam playfully collects and throws them into the air. This image is delivered with a smile that radiates throughout the auditorium to make this observer burst into a similarly beaming smile. Equally, it is impossible to look at her face and not be immediately whisked away; we tightly perch in our theatre seats whilst our minds float alongside Khayyam. She has transported us to another world. We follow her onto a moonlit plane, where her veil flutters softly in the wind and the musky scent of dawn envelopes us.
Yes, in one sense Khayyam’s consecutive chakkadar spins and extremely fast tatkar are technically faultless. They flow effortlessly from her centre, delicately accentuated by flowery mudras. In another sense, movement doesn’t matter. With a strong abhinaya, Khayyam can reference emotive depths that span from sheer joy to deep sorrow, showing intense artistic negotiation between movement and intention. Her head tilts sweetly with her movement as she offers it to the audience, her expression filled with humble confidence.
When thinking back on this piece it is hard to avoid the image of Khayyam’s exquisite expression entering the mind. One hears the phrase ‘her eyes are windows to her soul’ and many times discard it as inhuman nonsense. However, with Khayyam they really are. What power there is in her dance, in her story-telling, in her kathak. We cannot but yearn to encounter her again.
Khayyam for instance, moves to the microphone and is no doubt breathless, but continues to speak compact tukras and tihais, her tongue navigating the intricacies with ease. At some points the speaking is slightly out of time, however is noted and explained to the audience, and they begin again. This adds charm to the performance, involving the audience and strengthening the communicative bond. This accentuates a shared enjoyment of the dance and, as we move to the abhinaya, we are welcomingly entrusted to join Khayyam’s fascinating journey, becoming One with the dance. The exquisite raag of the sarod and voice craft a detailed, heartfelt abhinaya. It is this skill that makes Khayyam’s performance so powerful. Her thumri is augmented with an extended structure and embellished movement, the accompaniment for which is calm, tranquil and yet so powerful.
21/06/2011
Say Something Live @The Union featuring Sleeping Robots, Kid Adrift, Mr B and Subsource
On Tuesday 14th June, the University of Surrey student’s union witnessed an event like no other. A far cry from the usual uber-produced, auto-tuned sugary pop hits that reverberate around the union’s walls, Say Something Live is a music night designed to delight the alternative taste buds.
The bill featured four bands; Surrey University based soft rock trio Sleeping Robots, rock/electronica group Kid Adrift, the lofty and heavily moustached gentleman rhymer Mr B, and Subsource, with their heavy rock meets grinding dub-step to headline.
The gig began promisingly, with a mild to fairly generous turn out. This may of course have been a consequence of Sleeping Robots being Surrey University students themselves, baby faced and brimming with raw talent, however their presence on stage was highly professional. Their tracks were easily listenable and bop-along-able, if not slightly tame in comparison to the following act in the line-up.
Kid Adrift were next up, complete with a shabbily dressed Iain Campbell on vocals and guitar, and the outstanding voice of Rebecca Woolls, looking slightly like a wavy-haired festival-child. In direct contrast with Sleeping Robots, Kid Adrift seemed all too used to the gigging experience. Campbell skulked around the stage looking true rock star, whilst a few audience members warily eyed the keyboardist in fear that he may knock himself out on his own instrument through violent head banging. Although the tracks they played were good; in an I’m-nodding-along-feeling-kind-of-alternative-and-cool sort of way, one couldn’t help but notice a few slips in tuning/timing, hinting that these musicians were out of practice. Also adding fuel to the fire were the band’s claims that this may be their only show in quite a long time. That aside, they still got the crowd roaring and jumping, frenzied by the few students that they invited on stage to smash up a rather expensive looking keyboard (possibly one reason for them not being able to play for a while!).
After a mass evacuation by what felt like the entire audience to the single union bar, Mr. B graced the stage. Dressed in a smart suit and holding a banjo, this self confessed champion of ‘chap-hop’ began rapping to the audience in the Queen’s English. This man couldn’t be further away from Eminem if he tried. As Mr. B engaged in some sort of knee bend routine, akin to a parodied police officer out of the 1950s, his rapping in RP left the audience strangely captivated. They erupted in cheers after each highly amusing if not slightly samey track, injecting life-affirming humour amongst an otherwise deadly serious line-up.
Lastly, but by no means least, were Subsource, the headliners for the evening. After a last-minute drop out by previous top of the bill band Coda, Subsource valiantly picked up the gauntlet to subsequently ‘smash it’. Their music manages to blend all the best bits of rock, ska and dub-step, into a unique sound that seemed to vibrate out from the stage into waves of crazy dancing and intermittent mosh pits. Racing dub-step beats were layered over electronic scribblings, sections of melody were cut up and fed to the audience like sweets. Heavy guitar riffs were moulded around heart-stopping bass drops. Subsource make it almost impossible not to dance... and where else would you encounter a Mohican headed raspy rock singer belting out catchy lyrics whilst playing an electric double bass??!
Numbers seemed to dwindle after Mr. B, probably due to the last minute addition of the headline act. However for those who did stick around, Subsource topped off the evening in excellent style (and sweat). Adrenaline fuelled punters left the union on music high, making a nice change from frequent tear-drenched drunken lows of the normal union nights. Say Something Live nights have been an excellent addition to the University’s events calendar, bringing high quality, cheap live music to the student’s doorstep.
The Living Room - Yael Flexer and Nick Sandiland Digital Works
On entering the familiar space of PATS dance studio, an unusual scenario awaits me. A small child is happily toddling around the space, surrounded by six plainly clad dancers who are all making an attempt to copy the child. To the audience’s cooing delight, the little girl marches around with innocent glee, completely unfazed. After a while the audience settles, softened into malleable onlookers, innocently open to a plethora of metaphorical images that will henceforth be pitched from the performance arena. Or, put simply, this familiar scene of literal child’s play welcomes the audience, so we can all begin the piece at the same level.
After this brief prelude the stage is then lined with the six dancers, now childless. The dancers address each other fondly but confidently, names and fleeting comments in different languages scatter and rebound across the space like electric currents. A clear game structure becomes apparent, as each dancer takes on the ‘character’ of a certain piece of living room furniture. Shouts of ‘I’m the arm chair!’, ‘No... I’m the arm chair!’ spark comical battles between the dancers as they crescendo; elbows rigidly marking out shapes in the space, spines snaking and hands neatly folding the air. The use of witty timing makes this simple section effectively engaging, and the immediate introduction of the dancer’s names makes me feel connected to the performers, I’m part of the family, part of the furniture.
Then comes my official welcome. Yael Flexer addresses us by reeling out a list of things that we must expect from the performance, what there will and will not be, who will be dancing, when they will be dancing, and pretty much the whole structure of the piece. There are no illusions of grandeur here. We are all adults now and this is a time for adult conversation and reflection. The living room is transformed into that mysterious shadowy place that you imagine after bed time as a child, once play time is over and the land of the living belongs to grown-ups. Flickering lights accompany a glitchy electronic sound track. Dancers walk purposely into the awaiting space, arms slice and torsos fold and invert themselves, enveloping in before whipping in momentum and suspending in mid air. It’s as if there is another force in the room, contorting these dancers. Sounds of crackly digital sketching are combined with live cello as the dance tidily shifts between complex duets and explosive unison. The lights blindingly flash to full beam and... we are back in the room. The piece shunts us in and out of ‘reality’ so quickly that we barely have time to stop laughing and act serious.
The piece follows this prescribed and increasingly predictable text – dance – text linear structure as it progresses. Contrasting snippets of heavy duty dance with stripped down text, designed to enhance the everyday quality of the piece. This pedestrian element is subtly interspersed amongst the more virtuosic parts, cleverly injecting elements of playfulness and humanity. A ‘solo’ is ricocheted around the stage, bandied around like an old dress, fighting for an owner. An intimate duet is mirrored by two couples, with meaningful eye contact and rash yet warmly placed palms are pressed onto chests and thighs; sensual yet charged with dynamic immediacy. The movement vocabulary of the dancers is impressively compelling, yet is not exempt from moments of over repetition. Luckily it sits comfortably within the comparatively short time frame of the piece.
A heavily pregnant Yael sits in the corner, playing Barthes’ dead author. The piece is something she has created, yet somewhere along the way she let it go, and now it is just playing along by itself, taking the audience on a journey of its own accord. She can but narrate this resulting detritus of everyday living.
An overarching theme of the everyday, the household, the living room, infuses itself within this piece. It is like an impressionistic visit to Ikea, complete with clocks and pot plants, old married couples and newly weds, and ‘subliminal jazz hands’ cheekily appearing in the lighting department.
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