As you may know, I’ve been working on a book about Ann Arbor skateboarding culture for the past year. I posted a few images from it on arts, ink. before, and I’m so excited to announce that it is finally out and available to purchase! All proceeds from publication sales will be donated to All Girls Skate, an Ann Arbor Skatepark initiative that gives instruction to young female skaters of all experience levels in a welcoming environment. I hope you enjoy it!
Skating Tree Town is a publication that chronicles Ann Arbor’s rich skateboarding history and culture. For this project, I wanted to step out of my comfort zone and meet new people, to delve further into Ann Arbor’s history, and to develop my own love for skateboarding. Having been enticed by skate culture for years and only recently dedicating actual time and effort to learning, I was pleasantly surprised to discover Ann Arbor’s ties to skateboarding. Over the course of several months, I sent out countless texts and emails, and met strangers at their favorite skate locations to interview and photograph them. Almost everyone I contacted was gracious and friendly, genuinely stoked to share their love of skating with me. As the culmination of my undergraduate studies, I applied my design training to produce a book for others to read–showing the diverse and vibrant skate culture present in Ann Arbor.
Using visual design, photography, interviews, and historical archives, this book attempts to synthesize Ann Arbor skate culture and its community in a tangible way for skaters and readers to enjoy. Although this is not a definitive archive of Ann Arbor skateboarding’s history, it is a small glimpse of its culture through my eyes. All proceeds from publication sales will be donated to All Girls Skate, an Ann Arbor Skatepark initiative that gives instruction to young female skaters of all experience levels in a welcoming environment.
PURCHASE OR DONATE BELOW!
Purchase or donate online (free shipping in US): Valerie Le – Skating Tree Town
Purchase a book for local Ann Arbor pickup: DM me or email valtle@umich.edu!
It is undeniable that David Lynch is one of the most groundbreaking filmmakers of all time. His trademark style has influenced countless creatives since his 1977 debut film Eraserhead. Though his films initially found popularity as midnight movies, his reputation has risen to incomparable status. Rumors of a new series in the works for Netflix has stirred my excitement about his body of work once again, so below are my top three Lynch masterpieces.
Twin Peaks
Twin Peaks changed television forever. Before the landmark 1990 series, television and film were considered entirely separate, but with Twin Peaks Lynch proved that TV could be cinematic. The show takes the typical murder mystery and flips it on its head, ranging from pure camp to moments that are nearly incomprehensible. Promotional material for the show’s first season simply asks “who killed Laura Palmer?” but quickly Agent Dale Cooper (Kyle MacLachlan) and the Twin Peaks Sheriff Department discover the case is more complex and sinister than they could have ever imagined.
The range of styles is what I love most about Twin Peaks. Seasons 1 and 2 are filled with quirky interactions over donuts, cherry pie, and damn fine coffee, and of course the goofiest sandwich-eating scene in history. In contrast, episode 8 of 2017’s Twin Peaks: The Return could easily be considered a stand-alone surrealist short film. Contributing to these styles are some of the greatest environment-building soundtracks of all time. Ominous droning, jazz, and a range of modern musicians (ranging from Nine Inch Nails to synthpop band Chromatics) each contribute to the multitude of atmospheres created throughout the three seasons.
Between the distinct characters, twisting storyline, fantastic music, and extensive amount of lore (thanks to three seasons, multiple books, and a feature film prequel), it’s easy to fall in love with Twin Peaks — and keep falling deeper and deeper into the impossibilities of the mystery. The series is funny, disturbing, emotional, and everything in between, but more than anything it is a demonstration of the power of good storytelling. No matter the medium, Twin Peaks succeeds, and after five years of being a fan I have yet to uncover every secret it holds.
Blue Velvet
Blue Velvet is perhaps my personal favorite Lynch work of all time. It is somehow both cozy and creepy, familiar and frightening. This film, similar to Twin Peaks, takes a traditional mystery format and injects it with a dose of depravity. If you were to dive into Lynch’s filmography, this film is possibly the best entry point for newcomers because it still has a comprehendible plot, but with signature surreal moments. This film kickstarted the careers of Kyle MacLachlan and Laura Dern, who play Jeffrey Beaumont and Sandy Williams, two young people attempting to expose criminal activity after the discovery of a severed ear and an encounter with a singer.
This is my favorite Lynch film for so many reasons. Lynch loves to emphasize the singular strange trait of a character, and each of the characters in Blue Velvet is a prime example of this emphasis on the weird at its finest. On top of the general weirdness, the dark moments of the film genuinely get under my skin. When Blue Velvet was released, it was one of the most daring films to be marketed toward a general audience due to its violent and adult content. It tackles topics that are still difficult to stomach, but each moment — comedic, dark, romantic, or otherwise — is placed in just the right moment of the story to ensure the viewer feels every high and low. Blue Velvet puts me on a rollercoaster of emotions, somehow remaining simultaneously grounded and bewildering.
Mulholland Drive
Mulholland Drive is truly Lynch’s magnum opus. It manages to balance a compelling storyline and surrealist, dream-like sequences. For a while, it feels like a story that is fairly easy to follow: a girl moves to Hollywood to become a star, but her plans are interrupted by the presence of a mysterious woman with amnesia. Over the course of the film, outside characters intertwine with the lives of Betty (Naomi Watts) and Rita (Laura Harring), and reality and imagination start to collide.
Trying to wrap my head around Mulholland Drive is impossible. Everyone I know has a different theory about the film’s meaning, and with each viewing I simultaneously find more questions and answers. It’s the type of film to make you break down the minutiae of each frame until you’ve gone crazy trying to figure it all out, but that’s the magic of it. I will most likely never know, but the constant feeling of discovery is what keeps me coming back. It is a gorgeous, mind-bending portrayal of the Hollywood dream gone dreadfully wrong.
Other Work
There are many other Lynch films that are equally incredible — Elephant Man is a straightforward tear-jerker, Inland Empire is a nonsensical nightmare, and Wild at Heart is a black comedy starring (of all people) Nicholas Cage. David Lynch is also more than just a filmmaker — he’s also a musician, artist, and Transcendental Meditation advocate. If, after watching his films, you’re as puzzled as I am about what happens in Lynch’s brain, the 2016 documentary David Lynch: the Art Life provides a glimpse into the life and mind of the artistic legend.
Writing “Weird and Wonderful” has been one of the highlights of my semester. Whether I continue the column as is or transition it in some way, look forward to hearing from me again in the fall! In the meantime, stay weird!
“Why don’t we go around the circle and introduce ourselves,” the rainbow-haired person suggested. “I’m Ash. They/them pronouns.”
The backpack kid was next. “Ruby. She/her.”
There was a very tall person with long, straight, black hair and makeup like they were a member of the band KISS. “Onyx. They/them.”
Next, there was a kid who didn’t look so different from Leo. They offered him a lopsided smile. “Juan. He/him.”
Leo also met Tinashe, Yasmin, and Ji-fu.
It was a lot of names and a lot of people all at once, but Leo was really hoping to get to know them all much better.
Much, much, better.
He wasn’t alone here after all.
He wasn’t the only gay kid, wasn’t the only trans kid. Here he was, huddled in the woods with a group of people that understood him. Not all of them looked just like parents and society thought a boy or a girl should look.
It was awesome.
Oh, and they were all clearly super weird. Like the actual weirdest.
Leo had never felt more at home.
Ash explained that they were a secret order of kids who all lived in the neighborhood. They went through the agenda, including discussing whose house would host the next meeting. Juan said his parents hadn’t finished cleaning the basement, but that it would probably work for next week. Tinashe offered to bring snacks since her mom worked at CostCo.
Ash also explained to Leo that they were all queer, they were all witches, and that they practiced magic. That this field and this pond was where the magic was strongest.
That was something new.
Leo had never really had a goth or an emo phase. He’d never worn crystals to school and chanted spells at home. He’d seen plenty of theater kids at his last school who did, though, and he wasn’t one to judge, he just didn’t know if it was for him.
But he liked them all enough and was lonely enough to start embracing his inner witch. It couldn’t be hard, right?
He hoped he didn’t have to wear black all the time, though. It wasn’t really his color.
“So, Leo,” Ji-fu said, twirling her braids around her finger, “you interested in joining us?”
“Oh, yeah!” Leo exclaimed. “I mean, if it’s cool with you guys.”
Ruby offered a thumbs up. Ash nodded. “You need to go through initiation, then,” Ash said. “If you’re serious.”
Leo nodded emphatically enough for his bangs to fall in his face. “Yes. I am. Super serious.”
“Okay, then,” Ash said, the gleeful smile on their face illuminated eerily by the orange flames. “Let us begin the ceremony.”
A time of milk and honey, where no one talks about money—
champagne conversations and dicty dialogues—
in a town of copied and pasted happy faces,
they find a target for their jealous disgraces.
A woman moves in wearing her silk scarf and stoicism,
eyes reflecting her wisdom like a prism.
Without warrant, their words would spread in torrent,
always giving their looking-glass logic on her loneliness.
Her diamond-pierced ears would hear ear-piercing lies,
but one-by-one she would collect them and polish them,
weave them together into a magnificent chandelier
that she hung from her mansion so proudly,
hosting galas without invites and music playing loudly.
Boulder, Colorado
Red rosy lips softly spell out her secrets,
once touched with passion, but now with regret.
She grew up hiding her pain in pressed-powder,
then created success when no one allowed her.
The day she wore hardship like high heels,
time slowed down until every moment was dusk.
She pours charisma into her glass hereafter
and walks with the scent of vineyards in her laughter.
The only time where nostalgia lies in the future.
She was raised to romanticize every view—
rolling hills nearby would bid her adieu
and the sky would blush at her everlasting glow
only one set of footprints walks along this chateau.
I don’t know about anyone else, but I get really annoyed at how much I like rain. Seriously, it’s just water… you think I’d get tired of looking at it but I never do haha.
Anyways, I was actual very hesitant when deciding to use this poem. I feel like talking about the rain (or nature itself) in public poetry is too over-done. It’s like a cheat-code for writers because mostly everyone knows the material you’re discussing. When the audience immediately knows the concept of your poem, half the battle is over and you can just sound cool for the rest of it. Writing about a natural phenomenon is a very good exercise for writers to start, but it makes it very difficult to elevate your writing to something deeply profound or personal. At least, that’s been my experience with it.
So, why am I telling you this if I just showed you a poem that I wrote about rain?? Well, I will tell you… And it’s not because I think it’s a deeply profound poem. When I took this video, I had just wrapped on a project that I was working on for the past 6 weekends. After 17 days of shooting, (nearly the amount of time they spend shooting feature-length movies) we were excited, a little saddened, and most of all exhausted. After the hardest day of shooting yet, we wrapped. Then! It began to rain and the sun was just about to set, unobscured by the clouds. I don’t think the video does it justice. It felt ethereal.
But yeah, so this occurrence happened right in a moment when I felt something deeply, and that is always a special moment. I didn’t write this to push boundaries, but I felt that I needed to express this part of my life in words and video, so I did. After all, that’s kind of a poet’s job, isn’t it?
Many thanks, I hope you all the best in the final weeks of this semester! And remember to look out a window every once in a while and get lost.
Birds are chirping, flowers are blooming, finals are just around the corner… It’s starting to feel like spring! As a study break today, Hal harnessed the springtime spirit and tried to tidy his room. It wasn’t long before he found his video game console and, well, it’s been months since Hal had time to play a game! But what was supposed to be one level turned into a whole afternoon of accidental gaming.
Hal can’t say he didn’t need the break, but he didn’t intend to take the break either. I think many students are in the same boat. With each passing day we have less energy and focus, so it becomes easier for little breaks to become the rest of the day. We gotta stay strong, though – less than a month left! After that we can all play video games together.
If this is your first week finding us, welcome! Hal is a U-Mich senior trying to get through his last semester. We’re back Tuesdays with updates, but feel free to check out our archive under the Study Hal tag!
