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Photo: National Gallery of Art.
Alison Luchs in a video posted to the National Gallery of Art’s Instagram page on Jan. 13. Her use of contemporary slang is bringing delight and welcome attention to the art collection.

Here’s something cute I’m reading as I fly home from California.

It goes without saying that if you want to draw in new audiences, it helps to speak their language. And if you’re a mature person speaking the language of youth, you may amuse and refresh old audiences at the same time.

Kyle Melnick reports at the Washington Post about the National Gallery of Art’s deputy head of sculpture success adding Gen Z slang to the many language she already speaks.

On Instagram in January, stepping behind a 16th-century urn, she began to describe it to the camera like this.

“ ‘Chat, I’m about to buss it down Roman Empire style,’ said Alison Luchs, 77. … ‘Haters will say this urn is mid, but they don’t know we’ve clocked its tea.’

“Luchs called the urn’s stone material ‘GOATED’ — meaning the greatest of all time — saying the urn was ‘high-key valuable’ and its colors ‘screamed big drip’ — meaning it was stylish. …

“Luchs’s videos — she made another one in December with a 16th-century plate — have worked. The videos have received a combined 8.7 million views on Instagram and thousands of comments from people who find Luchs’s descriptions funny, informative and relatable.

“ ‘From here on out this is the only way I’ll listen to guided tours,’ someone commented. ‘I’m coming to the museum just to meet her,’ another person wrote. ‘Honestly, she ate,’ a third person commented about Luchs, a Gen Z way to give high praise.

“The timing coincides with a Saturday Night Live sketch in which Gen Z comedian Marcello Hernández translates slang for Weekend Update co-host Colin Jost, a millennial. …

“Luchs, who has worked at the National Gallery of Art for 47 years, agreed to make the videos because she wanted to raise interest in the museum’s art. She never expected to slay. And based on the reaction to her videos, she has not ‘unalived‘ Gen Z slang like Jost did.

“ ‘She just has an effortless swag,’ said Sydni Myers, the museum’s senior manager of social media.

“Some highlights of Luchs’s career include helping set up exhibits for Italian Renaissance artists and writing a book about 15th-century Venice artwork of sea creatures. But over the summer, the museum’s social media team brainstormed an assignment for her.

“Myers, 31, wanted to reach young audiences while still offering insight into the gallery’s art. When she first asked her colleagues about a baby boomer describing art with Gen Z lingo, she said, they worried the video would be cringe.

As Myers thought about who could pull the video off with confidence, she said, Luchs came to mind. …. Myers caught Luchs as she was leaving a staff meeting and asked if she would record a video.

“ ‘Fine, as long as it brings attention to the collection,’ Myers recalled Luchs responding. Reflecting on that moment recently, Luchs said: ‘I’m not sure I knew what I was doing yet.’

“The social media team asked Luchs which artworks she found most fascinating. They then followed up with more questions — when the pieces were made, how they were made, who created them, what people used them for and how valuable they were.

“They landed on making a video about a 16th-century tin-glazed plate created by Italian ceramicist Orazio Pompei and used at lavish dinner parties. … When Luchs got the script, she searched the words’ definitions on the internet. She learned that a ‘rizzler‘ is someone who has charisma, ‘money-maxing sigmas’ refers to successful and rich people, and ‘aura points’ quantifies coolness.

“Luchs speaks five languages: English, French, Italian, and some German and Russian. She approached grasping Gen Z parlance like she was learning another language. [Mary King, the museum’s social media copywriter] coached Luchs in pronouncing the words.

“ ‘When I started at the National Gallery, I cannot say I anticipated that there would be a day where I’m sitting with a Word doc open in the office and I’m writing “rizzler,” ‘ said King, 25.

“Sitting beside King, Luchs laughed and added: ‘I love that word.’

“Luchs read the script over and over until she memorized it. Then last month, she stepped onto an 8-inch platform behind the plate with the help of a colleague who held her hand. A phone recorded her.

“ ‘Look how bro glazed it,’ Luchs said, pointing to the plate. ‘He went goblin mode with all these colors,’ referring to a behavior that is unapologetically self-indulgent.

“A few seconds later, Luchs described the woman on the plate: ‘Girly over here is freshly “yesified.” Off-camera, a colleague corrected her pronunciation. Luchs corrected herself a moment later: ‘Yassified’ — meaning to look very glamorous after a makeover. …

“On her first try, Luchs nailed the speech, finishing by saying: ‘Chat, would you bring this dish to the function, or is it chopped? Either way, “girly pop” is the moment, and she’s living rent-free in our heads and in the National Gallery of Art.’ …

“Luchs now weaves her new language into her daily life, her colleagues said, explaining that she recently sent an email to them saying she would be late because she was on ‘the chopped Metro’ — meaning it was not moving fast.”

More at the Post, here.

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Back in January, I read Michelle Herman’s Slate column about taking up ballet late in life, and I’ve been wondering if she’s kept it up during the pandemic. Even professional ballet dancers have found it challenging to practice.

Here is how Herman got into ballet at age 62.

“The dance studio had just opened on my corner — I didn’t even have to cross a street to get there. So what I asked myself was just how lazy I would have to be not to try a class. I had fond, if vague, childhood memories of the weekly modern dance classes I took for five or six years at the famous Marjorie Mazia School in Brooklyn. …

“It had left its mark: The thought of a dance class did not fill me with despair or fury the way a Pilates class or the contemplation of a gym membership would have. Plus, I enjoyed dancing at parties. So maybe this would be fun, I told myself. Maybe I wouldn’t hate it.

“I didn’t hate it. I didn’t hate it so much that almost right from the beginning I was in tears. … There is no reason it should have felt so right to have one hand on the barre as I extended a foot that I was concentrating very hard on simultaneously turning out and pointing — concentrating not only on that pointed foot, but also on muscles throughout both that leg and the other leg, the one that was supposedly just standing still. And on my right arm in second position.

“I believe what happened that day was that I fell in love.

“There were only four of us in the room that first day. Three students (two old, as in over 50, and one young, as in under 20) and Filippo Pelacchi, the teacher (who was very young himself, although not in dancer years—he had just turned 28).

“If I cannot recreate every one of the 75 minutes of that first adult beginner class I took in the summer of 2017, it’s because by now I’ve spent approximately 84,000 more minutes in that studio—that is, 1,400 hours, something like 950 dance classes plus rehearsals for performances, and those minutes run together in my mind. But I do know this—that in that very first class, …  I had a moment of what seemed like perfect clarity: My body and my mind were working as one. …

“I’m a writer and a teacher, so all my work is mental work. But in ballet there was what seemed to me a remarkable twist: I was living that mental work in my body. In my body — with which, even more remarkably (even more improbably), I was making art. …

“In ballet, there is no separating the body and the mind. I have to think hard to create the shapes, to make the movements, of ballet. Even standing still in first position — which to the observer doesn’t look like anything — requires the engagement of muscles that will not turn on without my express command, muscles that do not engage reflexively the way my muscles do when going about ordinary tasks. There is nothing ordinary, nothing of the daily life, about ballet. …

“And there is this: Almost from the start I saw that ballet would fulfill a longing I’d had as far back as I could remember, a longing that accounts for the pleasure I take in hosting and leading a Passover Seder although I am a firmly nonbelieving Jew. …

“Sometimes the ballet advice sounds a lot like life advice.

  • Build a solid structure, Filippo tells us, and then find the open spaces where you can experiment, be yourself, and make it your own.
  • With stability comes freedom. If you are strong in your center, the rest can move freely around it.
  • Everything is connected. Everything you do is informed by what you have done before.
  • Commit to the transitions, he urges us. Even though they are not the highlights, they are the platform for the highlights.
  • And: No matter what happens, stay in it. Even if you forget or make a mistake, keep moving. “Here I am!” Own it. And then find your way back in.
  • Search every moment for what is there. Especially in the pauses, you have time to find something new, the next thing.”

More at Slate, here.

Art: Natalie Matthews-Ramo

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