BTS are one of the biggest pop culture phenomena to emerge in the 21st century, a fragmented era where one struggles to name similarly hegemonic icons. Perhaps only the Marvel Cinematic Universe or Harry Potter have had a similar reach and staying power. BTS have transcended their original (and already sufficiently lucrative) market of South Korean idol pop, collaborated with western radio mainstays such as Coldplay and Ed Sheeran, and become megastars—only recently fragmenting into solo careers as the members face South Korea’s compulsory military service. For the band’s legion of fans, who refer to themselves as ARMY (this is singular too, a fan can refer to oneself as an ARMY), they need no introduction.
Performing arts
In Anarchy of the Body, art historian KuroDalaiJee sheds light on vital pieces of postwar Japanese avant-garde history by contextualizing the social, cultural, and political trajectories of artists across Japan in the 1960s. A culmination of years of research, Anarchy of the Body draws on an extensive breadth of source material to reveal how the practice of performance by individual artists and art groups during this period formed a legacy of resistance against institutionalization, both within the art world and more broadly in Japanese society.
We have been here before. In 1220 the Mongols sacked Afghanistan, scattering its artists and musicians in all directions. The Sufi poet Rumi wound up in Konya, in today’s Turkey, but the majority of these refugees fled into neighboring India, where they were warmly welcomed by culture hungry audiences. They contributed to the development of Hindustani music, whose modern avatar is Bollywood music. I wonder today if the musicians chased out of Afghanistan today will leave such echoes of their musical exile. If they do, it will be because of the tireless touring of masters like Daud Khan Sadozai, who recently performed at Lisbon’s Fundacão Oriente.
Scalpers worked overtime for New Yorkers eager to see Beijing Opera star Mei Lanfang perform during his one and only American tour in 1930. His “exquisite loveliness in pantomime and costume” must have seemed ineffably exotic to New Yorkers, unfamiliar with the codes of Chinese opera, or the art of female impersonators 旦（dan）like Mei. An elaborate and many layered tradition lay behind the performance of Mei and Beijing Opera of the 20th and 21st centuries. In Staging for the Emperors, Liana Chen, a professor at George Washington University, undertakes to explain the emergence of this art form, and surprisingly for this reviewer, to demonstrate the prominent role played by the imperial Qing rulers themselves.