Category: Uncategorized

My earliest memories are of a brightly lit restaurant wall. It is an unnatural red that catches the eye. But what holds my gaze is the golden dragon. For a mythical beast, it is strangely friendly looking with its bushy, comical eyebrows. It swirls to meet up with yet another creature, a phoenix with a feathery tail. Both figures are clearly formed from a plastic mold that has produced thousands like it to be placed in thousands of other Chinese restaurants. These places are so common in the United States. They hide in plain sight, small and insignificant on the street corner or in the middle of a strip mall. They use small, dirty signs as their disguises. So perhaps this restaurant, that still holds a place in my heart, is not that special. But I don’t care. There is something extraordinary in those little spaces.

I grew up sitting at the dim sum table, even before I can recall. Dim sum is a tradition from Hong Kong, traditionally composed of many small appetizer dishes, shared among just as many. It is not the “Chinese” food like Americans would typically experience it. Its bean curd and intestine and strange textures. There is rarely cheese and always rice. Its served in bamboo steamers, wrapped in banana leaves, and even in clay pots. Served with it all, is hot Oolong tea. But is not even the strange products that differentiates Chinese food to me. Unlike the typical conception of what Chinese food is, it is slow. It is not take-out in little white boxes. Rather I remember taking home containers of leftovers, excess from a long meal with my family, a reminder of good times.

The funny thing is that even that doesn’t even begin to summarize what Chinese food has become as it has been translated and moved to a new continent. China is a vast country with the world’s largest population and it has resulted in a variety of food culture. This has only grown as it has traveled to a new locale. Mostly, it has been food that has originated from southern China that has been introduced to Americans. Pan fried noodles and potstickers are both southern products. But the transfer goes both ways. During the British occupation of Hong Kong, many European traditions were translated too. The breakfast café rivals dim sum in popularity, serving baked spaghetti and pounded, pan fried steaks. It doesn’t matter, in the end, it doesn’t matter if I’m eating at a café or at a dim sum restaurant, I end up content and not the tiniest bit hungry.

My favorite part of the meal is the beginning. It is the special type of anticipation waiting for a meal that ends. One that forces you to talk just to stop your imagination from yearning too much for the awaited food. It is a rhythm, talk interspersed here and there with sips of tea. Moments linger longer than they should. My mom smiles from the other side of the table. My sister and dad are talking about the Chinese variety show playing on the TV. The dragon looms over my shoulder as I raise my porcelain cup and drink.

When I found out I was going to be shooting the Lumineers concert I started preparing immediately. I read articles online and watched videos that gave advice on camera settings and how the whole “concert photography” thing works, but nothing could have really prepared me for the actual experience.

When I pulled into the parking lot of the Palace I was 10 minutes late for my arrival time and slightly freaked out. I managed to avoid paying for parking- after holding up the line for five minutes frantically trying to explain that I was late and had no cash- and got a spot in the VIP section right in front of the main office.

I hauled my equipment inside the office, which was a separate entrance than the main concert doors that were crowded with people, and realized that I had just missed the communications director. The receptionist said I had missed him by about two minutes, so I searched my email for his contact information and called him from the lobby. I could barely hear him over the noise of the stadium and the failing reception, but after apologizing profusely he grudgingly agreed to come back up and get me to take me down to the general admission pit.

The guy was probably the least friendly person I’ve met in a long time, and that really didn’t help with my nerves. But I just followed him as he led me through the concessions area and down the steps into the arena, putting my personalized photo pass around my neck.

The first opening act took the stage shortly after i had assembled my camera and taken a few test shots. I was inside the pit with the other concert goers, but there was barely any crowd this early in the night. I walked back and forth from stage left to stage right taking pictures constantly just trying to adjust to the constant motion and dramatic lighting. After three songs I met the communications director and the two other photographers who had been on the other side of the barricade, near the entrance to the pit. The four of us left together, following the director out of the arena and back to the main office lobby.

We sat down and I began to look through my photos, deleting almost all of them, while listening to the photographers talk to each other. These guys were definitely professionals. Their equipment made mine look like dollar store purchases.

While we were waiting for the next opening act to start two more photographers arrived. They greeted each other with familiarity, talking about recent shows and asking about each others holidays. It was almost funny how out of place I felt in that room, and I really couldn’t help but laugh at my situation. There I was, a 19 year old college student with her school issued camera that rented a zip car to come to the Palace to cover her first concert on behalf of a college newspaper, surrounded by these middle aged men who had camera lenses strapped to their bodies like tools in a tool belt who were professional concert photographers working with local popular Detroit radio stations and magazines.

When it was time to head down for the next opener, the five of us followed the director and this time i went with them to the other side of the barricade. I was as close to the stage as i could possibly get and I was savoring the moment, knowing how enviable my location was to the concert goers. We photographed the first three songs, moving around in front of the stage getting different angles and perspectives. Right as I was starting to feel like I was getting the hang of it, it was time to go. We crawled underneath the stage and followed the director back up to the lobby. I was much happier with this round of photos than the last, and I was feeling excited and prepared for the Lumineers.

When we finally made it down for the Lumineers the general admission pit, which had been almost empty an hour before, was packed tightly. We could barely get to the barricade through the mass of people, but i reveled in the space once we made it to the other side. When the band came out I was almost shocked by how close they were. With my telephoto lens, close proximity, and experience gained from the last two performers, I was getting awesome pictures. But the time went by super fast, and suddenly it was time to make my way through the mass once more and meet the director by the entrance.

Shooting the concert was one of the most stressful experiences I’ve ever had, but also one of the most fun, interesting, and unique experiences too. It challenged me artistically and demanded things of myself socially and professionally that I didn’t know I was capable of.

As students in a spacious university, we often take our diverse environment for granted. No, I am not talking about all of the different ethnicities present on campus, though they are an important constituent of our Michigan identity. Rather, I am talking about the literal “outside world” that exists on our campus. Everyday, we are thrown into following a sort of daily routine: eat, attend classes, study, sleep, (party?), repeat. There’s nothing really wrong with routines, as they are often the most common strategy to success. However, as students, sometimes routines get in the way of our inborn ability to see beauty in the little things that we might usually consider an “everyday occurrence.” Let’s flashback to your day yesterday. Yes, you woke up, washed up, and ate breakfast. Then, you rushed to class at Angell Hall. But wait! Hit the pause button. Let’s say your dorm was Stockwell. From the Hill Residence Area to that first classroom. you rushed past so many things. Remember when you first saw your dorm- how it seemed to glow in your excitement? Today, you might still be happy to return to your dorm, but it is not the same sort of enthusiasm. It’s more like the initial excitement of receiving a new toy as a kid, and then that enthusiasm dying down as you mature. The gorgeous brick structure of Stockwell, somewhat reminiscent of a mini castle, is now overlooked. What else have you overlooked? The same things happen with the CCRB, the Museum of Natural History, East Hall, West Hall, the Chemistry Building, the UgLi. Hatcher, the UMMA, and finally Angell Hall itself.
Buildings, as trivial a topic as they may seem, are much more than what meets the eye. At first, they were just architects’ notions- sketches from imagination. Then, they became the product of the architects’ and engineers’ hard work and successful collaboration. Buildings are the markers of our historic campus evolution. And today, they are the reason why we can attend our classes so comfortably. Buildings deserve more credit than a brief glance, getting their doors slammed, or coffee spilled on their floors. Let’s show some enthusiasm and admiration, the next time we pass by!
It is such a pity that we belittle or forget the alluring effects of our campus environment. At smaller colleges, students do not have this opportunity to marvel at the UMMA’s modern and tradition sides. They also do not have a Diag as awesome as ours. And they most certainly do not have squirrels as confident as ours. We should take pride in our campus and its story, and be grateful for every day that we are able to bask in its beauty. Tomorrow, and on all of the days that follow, let’s perform our routine and allow the beauty of our campus heal us of our everyday wounds.

 

The Titters alongside the tree of round-red strawberries and dead eye afro-men, features the stand-up dog, limp and wet, puddles surrounding the stump it lies upon, and a yellow bun sitting atop – heating beneath the light. “Oooooooooooooo,” cries the dog. The narration suggests otherwise, the long, weak, ghostly, sound, slightly edged out by the industrial rectangular text box. What did all these undefined masses of spectators hear during that show? Did they hear the narration or the cry of the limp storyteller? But the dog is never weak; his inner-monologue an instance of assured identity and yearning. The “oooooooooooo,” is just a ruse. The dog is strong in weakness, weakness is strong.
But what of that tree, the tree, the tree? The red of round-red strawberries within the mouth of the black mass composed of cells and sweat and grooves and skin folds. Beneath the black mass or above, lies the face of a woman whose eyes are blue and dead. Vampirism runs rampant in the blue eyes. The triptych woman measures herself from waist to chest. The red lines tell us the measurement from ear lobe to cheek. The entirety of the mass is undefined. Are we but digested masses from a great tree? Droplets of fruity sweetness, cared by the deadeyes, created in the rounded gaze of the watcher. “Ooooooooooooo” cries the limp, “I’d never wanted anything more in my entire life.” To you Deforge.

I feel like on February 2nd, I should write an article about Groundhog Day, one of my favorite movies and an all-time classic of typical 1990s cinema. Instead I am going to tell you about a recent disappointment in my life (I know for a fact that people like to read about other people’s misery). Don’t think for a second, however, that my misery won’t affect your life, as well. I’ve got you scared now, haven’t I? Alright, let’s cut to the chase:

Do you know the feeling when you’ve been listening to “Year 3000”  by the Jonas Brothers your entire life, thinking that they actually came up with one decent song until you find out that even this one good song is a cover? You might be exposed to the same feeling when, after years and years of falling asleep next to your beloved Harry Potter book signed by no other than J.K. Rowling herself, you find out that is was actually your Mum who signed it to bump up your birthday gift from a “Yay” to a “Oh my god, Mum, you’re the best!”. Well, that was the feeling I had watching Disney’s Mulan for the first time on Chinese New Year. Not that Mulan was a disappointment in any way – it REALLY wasn’t – but after this movie I was seriously upset with Peter Jackson. You might wonder: “What does Peter Jackson have to do with Mulan? Wasn’t he just a young guy with very messy hair back when Mulan hit the theaters?” Yes, probably he was. I can assure you that Peter watched Mulan. Because just a couple of years later he would do exactly what the Jonas Brothers did with “Year 3000”. Peter would come to be my Mum of the film industry!

Every Lord of the Rings fan already knows what I’m talking about but for those who haven’t seen the Lord of the Rings or Mulan, I am going to elaborate:

The best scene in movie history (arguably):

After being crowned as the King of Gondor on top of Minas Tirith, Aragorn, Arathorn’s son, slowly walks past the leaders of light and all the heroes who make the Lord of the Rings so unique and had come to congratulate him on being in his rightful place: The throne of Gondor. He walks past Eowyn and Faramir who are now a couple, he shares a bromantic look with Legolas and Gimli and meets up with the love of his life, Arwen, the Elven, before he finally arrives at the place the four Hobbits Frodo, Sam, Merry and Pippin are trying to catch a peak of what’s happening (because they’re small). Polite as they are they get ready to kneel down in front of the new king. Aragorn, however, with tears in his eyes, thinking back to how much the Hobbits had to suffer in order to eventually save mankind from the roaring fires of Mordor, says: “My friends, you bow to no one!” and, in return, bows to them, followed by his entire people, making the Hobbits feel just as special as they deserve to feel.

What a magical scene, right? Wrong! Because from now on it is tainted. To be quite accurate, it was tainted from the very beginning. Why? This beautiful scene that has brought me closer to tears than even my grandpa’s funeral (I love you pops) was basically stolen from Mulan.

This is  what it looks like in Mulan:

Just like in the Lord of the Rings, the king and his people with him, bow to someone who doesn’t expect to be bowed to. Exchange the Hobbits for a Chinese woman and Aragorn for a weird-looking old dude and you’ll see that the scenes are actually very much alike.

Yet, I don’t want to be too hard on Peter, because Mulan just nailed that ending and it’s understandable that other movies want a piece of the pie. Knowing that the ending of the Lord of the Rings is a fraud, doesn’t make the movie any worse or less emotional. This way I have two movies which end the exact same way, giving me twice the emotional potential I knew of before.

 

PS: Remember to be the weirdest you can possibly be.

On Wednesday January 24th, Hill Auditorium transformed into an expeditionary vehicle that carried us through the solar system. Emmy-nominated artist José Francisco Salgado created a Science and Symphony performance using his phD in Astronomy to translate astronomical concepts into visual arts. The University Symphony Orchestra guides us through outer space, stopping at each planet with the accompanying sound of Holst’s “The Planets,” Weber’s “Concerto in F,” and Mozart’s Symphony No. 41 “Jupiter”.

Hill Auditorium:

Hill Space Odyssey:

The journey began at Mars, “The Bringer of War” with loud, violent sound. Next Venus, “The Bringer of Peace” with light, uplifting harmony…and so on.

Sitting there thinking about these masses so big and so far away, my mind drifted to a place far beyond the Milky Way. Note the amphitheater structure of the auditorium. The wall behind the screen provides a base to the sound and the extends outward to maximize sound projection. The physics of sound in the auditorium is similar to the physics of placing handheld music devices into a bowl to amplify the sound. After you clear out the matter in the cup (tea, dust, coins), the cup so small can make a big difference in how one enjoys music.

If you look closely, the sideways basin structure resembles that off a cup, almost like the auditorium itself is a cup tilted on its side. So if we explore beyond earth, beyond our solar system, into something far larger than what we know, what will we find? We can see and prove microscopic life smaller than us like the little mindless bacteria. We have yet to understand the life larger than us..what if we are in that cup so small

In reference to the Dr. Seuss story Horton Hears a Who, we know there are no whos, but are there Hortons?