A Summer in Ann Arbor

Now that it’s four weeks into the new school year, I can’t help but reflect on how my experiences over the summer have shaped the current year. During break, I had the opportunity to stay in Ann Arbor, where I worked and took two classes. One of my jobs was through UM Housing, which provided room and board. My other job was a position as an RC peer advisor, which entailed helping incoming students in LSA’s Residential College program pick their classes during orientation.

During my free time, there were a plethora of wonderful things to do. Campus was breathtakingly beautiful throughout the spring and summer, with flowers in full bloom and an overall more relaxed environment. I went to the Ann Arbor Farmers Market/food truck rallies, enjoyed nights at the Ann Arbor Summer Festival’s Top of the Park series, and made frequent trips to the Ann Arbor District Downtown Library (while participating in their Summer Game program, where you can explore A2 places, log your reading, etc. for real-life prizes). Additionally, I witnessed the gradual bloom of peonies at the Nichols Arboretum, experienced a green tea tea tasting at TeaHaus, and went down a water slide at the Fuller Park outdoor pool. 

Now for the artsy part of this blog post. When looking online for things to do in Ann Arbor, there was one thing I consistently came across: the Ann Arbor Art Fair. Nearby friends and family detailed it as something I had to check out. In the days leading up to it, I was prepared to feel squished among the enormous crowds that flock to downtown Ann Arbor for the event. What I didn’t anticipate, however, was the stormy weather. There were moments when artists struggled to hold down tents as rain and gusty winds came out of nowhere. It was heartbreaking to see the artists’ work knocked over and people scrambling for cover; I can only imagine the damage done to both attendance and physical pieces of art due to the inclement weather.

Nonetheless, it was very cool to see four independent fairs – each featuring incredible art – simultaneously occur to form one huge event. I was thoroughly impressed by the quality, beauty, and diversity of all of the art being presented.  Live music, interesting food, and good friends contributed to a positive experience.

Overall, summer was the perfect opportunity to explore some of the many amazing activities, shops, and history that Ann Arbor has to offer. The knowledge gained regarding Ann Arbor’s restaurants, bus system, and more have positively translated into feeling more comfortable and at home throughout the current school year. 

 

Simple, Bright, Beautiful: The Work of Kurzgesagt

I may be fairly late to the game, but a couple months ago I discovered Kurzgesagt, a Munich-based animation studio that makes informative YouTube videos and brilliant artwork. The studio’s signature style is based off of rounded shapes and vibrant colors, and means “in a nutshell.” Their beautiful videos showcase their dedication to knowledge, producing impressive animations about scientific subjects such as space, technology, and biology. At first, I thought it was a single artist behind the amazing creations, but discovered it is in fact a stacked team of art directors, illustrators, and producers working behind the scenes.

In addition to producing popular YouTube videos, the group also works as a creative design agency, creating illustrations, branding, merchandise, and graphic design solutions for clients (notably the Bill & Melinda Gates Foundation!).

There is something simply mesmerizing about the studio’s simplistic style–its rich use of color and boldness. I have noticed many illustrators borrowing Kurzsegagt’s artistic style, but the original agency stands out for its consistency and passion for education. Be sure to check out Kurzgesagt’s beautiful work on their channel and below!

What if We Detonated All the Bombs at Once?

 

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Optimistic Nihilism

 

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The Great Filter

 

 

Considering anemones

 

This Laurence Wieder poem was just published in the most recent edition of The Paris Review. Upon first read, my mind immediately connected the mention of “anemone” in the title to unlikely predatory invertebrates of the sea. As I sat with the words for longer, context clues describing decaying springtime made my ideas of marine life recede. This realization prompted my research into finding a form of anemone that exists on dry land. I found a flower.

 

Etymologically, “anemo” refers to wind and the suffix “-one” means daughter; taken together, the anemone flower translates to “the wind’s daughter.” Legend has it that when the gods took Adonis for their own, Aphrodite’s tears over his grave produced Anemone flowers.  In ancient Greece, this wildflower came to represent two things—although dichotomous, they both both signify major change.

  1. The arrival of warm winds foreshadowing the beginning stages of spring.
  2. The painful loss of a loved one.

 

In “These Anemones, Their Song Is Made Up as They Float Along,” Wieder speaks directly to the pain and impact of death’s finality on the living by using spring and anemone flowers as allegorical framing. In June of 1954, nearly all elements of nature decided to turn their backs on the circadian clock of Mother Nature. Stolen sunlight, repressed blooms, silenced birds, and heavy grass do the work of creating lifelessness in this new version of the world. The final turn of the screw is that there is no form of hibernation available in this new place. Whoever left living is doomed to be awake, witnessing every moment and passing feeling, unable to avoid circling the drain.

 

When I get to the bottom of historical nuances like these woven into poems, I am suddenly struck with a whole new understanding underneath the surface of the words. All it takes is a little extra digging into questions that may seem trivial…nearly everything about artistic choice is intentional, so I implore taking action on impulses to find out more about what makes those choices multidimensional.

“what is art?” Post #2 – Shepard Fairey and his street ART

In 2017, I became fascinated with stenciling, image manipulation, and silk screen printing, and this was due to artists like Shepard Fairey. Born in Charleston but residing in LA, Fairey is a well known graphic artist who commonly works with portrait images to create meaningful messages whether it be fine art or graffiti. He got his Bachelor of Fine Arts at RISD in the early 90s at around the same time he created his first art revolution that took over the streets of Providence, RI. 

Attending middle and high school in Providence, I was surrounded by the art encapsulating the city. RISD was right downtown and my friends and I would constantly hangout there. The first time I saw Fairey’s work was in the form of a sticker on a telephone post on Thayer St.–which is the S. State St. of Brown University. As I looked at the sticker that could be no bigger than 3”x4”, my friend told me over my shoulder that the sticker was Andre the Giant. I replied with, “Who?” She then told me Andre the Giant was a pro wrestler in the 1980s and that these stickers are all around Providence. I then asked, “Why?”, and she shrugged her shoulders. 

I remember not bothering with this “Andre the Giant” sticker until later on when I noticed it was everywhere and in different sizes/mediums. It was on walls, telephone posts, sidewalks, billboards, cars, etc. I didn’t understand why it was consuming the city and I didn’t understand why it was Andre the Giant. It made no sense to me but I wanted to be apart of it. I wanted to give someone that feeling of confusion and wonder. Fast forward to my online black hole search of Shepard Fairey. 

Fairey was a skateboard punk lovin artist in the 90s who wanted nothing more than to prove that he existed. He believed that a majority of what he was interested by and the hidden stories that he thought people should talk about were found in the skateboard and punk rock communities. He was apart of the “do-it-yourself” era where young people were seen creating their own advertisements and fashion. Fairey was inspired by graffiti and poster making causing him to wedge himself in and become apart of the movement. He created the image of Andre the Giant as sort of a joke from a newspaper ad. Fairey began sticking these abstract portraits up all around Providence to symbolize himself condemning his own interests. He wanted people to be confused, look at the details in his abstract image, and wonder, “Why?” Shepard Fairey realized he could cause change and impact after his image of Andre the Giant became something familiar to residents of Providence. This phenomenon sparked Fairey’s career, led him to create his OBEY empire, and also become one of the top influential artists of our time.

 

Shepard Fairey is someone I look up to not only because of his inspirational work but mostly because he didn’t care what people thought of his work even from the beginning. He just wanted to be something which is what almost everyone wants but he was different because he was confident enough to do it and succeeded. To put it in a short sentence, he grew from being a college student in a small city to a widely known artist who created the infamous campaign poster of Barack Obama. Like…wut.

Today, Fairey is fighting copyright issues pertaining to this image of Obama and in the past he has also dealt with issues with the law because his art is seen as vandalization. To create his existence in the world, Fairey believed to put his art everywhere so people would HAVE to look. I believe in human ownership rights but there also comes a line in my opinion, especially with art. One can simply not take someone’s art and claim it as their own, however I do believe in using someone’s art to inspire you to create. Fairey is in trouble because he takes images from Google as references and manipulates them into his graphic art. Furthermore, graffiti is a way of communicating expression with rebellion. Getting your work into the public eye without permission and without instant gratification interests me because it is a personal way of displaying art. The artist creates conversation with the world but also sparks a discussion of what their responsibility to the world is. 

 

As an art student with a passion for storytelling, I believe anyway to get your message across is art to me. I get excited especially when individuals have the courage to share their expression without hesitation. Graffiti has its faults but so does every single little puny tiny lil thing in the world. I mean don’t even get me started with discussing art galleries… 

 

Whether or not I understand his work or don’t, I will forever be enamored by Shepard Fairey’s use of art to create his voice and his way to live fearlessly through art. Fairey and other artists that arose in the street art movement face harassment and it is to each their own what they think of them. However, these artists will create no matter what their audience believes and this is why they have become some of the most influential conversation starters, as well as why I believe they should themselves be talked about and receive recognition. 

Afterthought:

Some fun questions I like to ask many people are, “Is graffiti art?” and ,“Is graffiti wrong?” Everyone has different perspectives and beliefs so it is interesting to collect their answers and why they believe this way. 

work cited:
“About Shepard Fairey Biography.” Streetartbio, http://www.streetartbio.com/shepard-fairey.
Moll, James, director. Obey Giant. Hulu, Allentown Productions; Elysium Bandini Studios; Thruline Entertainment.

 

Journey: A Game of Quality Over Quantity

Journey is an indie video game produced by the small studio “That game company” and was released in March of 2012 on the PlayStation 3, then later updated, refurnished, and brought to the PlayStation 4. I first heard of the game on YouTube in 2012, when I watched Pewdiepie play it from beginning to end. I was blown away by how beautiful it was; it was so rich in color and the soundtrack complemented the game so perfectly, it just felt like something entirely unique. At the time I couldn’t afford to play it myself, although I did download the free demo, to get just a taste of the game’s amazing world. Yesterday I was finally able to buy it for the PlayStation 4, as a reward for finishing the first project in EECS 281, and believe it or not, I already finished playing it. I couldn’t believe how fast it went either; it felt like I had just gotten started, then it was the climax, and then the end credits were rolling and I was divided between disappointment and amazement. It probably only took 3 hours, making a cost of $15 seem a little outrageous, but the quality is so overwhelming and memorable that it really makes up the difference.

The entire time I played I was lost in this strange place, being carried away by this incredible music as I made a long journey from the deserts to the top of a frozen mountain, all as part of some vague quest that is only told through the context of the journey. The style of the game itself is amazing as well; it’s simple, but well-crafted, which makes it completely convincing and immersive. The game isn’t particularly difficult either, because the emphasis is on the length of the journey and the development of the story and the world. Overall, I really loved being able to finally play it, and I think it’s a testament to how quality can triumph over quantity. Any small game studio, or even a single person, can create something great with passion and dedication; the ability to make it large doesn’t affect its ability to be great. I think that’s partly why this game was so unique for its time, and also why I found it so memorable. As games get larger and more complex, games like Journey stand out from the crowd and remind players what they love about truly incredible games.

The Loss

There was a collective pall hanging over the campus this Saturday after the devastation of the Michigan football team at the hands of Wisconsin. It was the loss of a hope, held carefully since the end of last season. Hope, perhaps, that this season would be the destined one, the championship one. Instead, we found ourselves treading a familiar path. Another loss and so early in the season. As fans, we are blind adherents to a faith that bids us to tear out our hearts for every down, every stoppage. We offer held breaths and exhausted screams. We offer our uncriticizing enthusiasm and our enthusiastic criticism. We offer our happiness and our grief. But we, as fans, cannot do much more than give this support. For, we cannot affect the results of games as the players do with their electrifying movements and their pure forces of will shoving aside any opposing force. We are helpless to call the right play, though we would swear that Jim Harbaugh should listen to us instead of consulting his laminated sheets. These actions unravel before us, without our consent. We watch, but alas, we cannot do.

It seems like a foolish thing to inflict fandom on ourselves. Especially after a loss. The grief of that loss, a loss that was fundamentally not our fault, still hurts and oppresses. We are fools to be so devoted, to display our desires so publicly where they can be easily crushed. Fools because we could have retreated to the quiet of uncaring. It is cool and cold there. Smooth and slick. If passion feels like a rolling, crushing wave, indifference is the undisturbed surface of a pond. But to affect indifference now would be as useful or as healing as rubbing an ice cube on a wound. It doesn’t stop the blood from pumping. What is done is done. Somewhere, somehow, we became fans or fools or all of the above. We have reached the point where there is no returning our season tickets and certainly no returning our allegiances.

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With the path back blocked, there is only the myriad ways forward. But doesn’t it seem like we’ve been here before? Is it just me or does that stagnant offense constantly turning over the ball seem vaguely familiar? And isn’t that depressed frustration the same feeling we had during the OSU game all those months ago? We are reverberating helplessly between past and future, doomed to repeat mistakes without solution. If we are so doomed though, at least we will still also have those moments of delirious, devouring happiness when we feel as if we are sprinting down the sideline, heart and body lunging for the endzone. We are as helpless against the euphoria as we are against the abject misery. And so, against any good sense, we will dive back into the fray for nine more regular season games. We will stand and stomp, cry and scream everything that we have and everything that we are. Being a fan is not easy, being a Michigan football fan even more so. But that is why we care. That is why we roll into the stadium, a hundred thousand strong, supporting each other as much as we support the team. Because if all this was so easy, there would be no point.