“I swear, if you take one more picture, I’m going to shove that camera up your ass.”

Umm…excuse me? Sitting in the sixth row of the symphony concert, my friend looked back in astonishment as a middle-aged woman leaned forward in her seat to curse her out as she held up her camera to take another photograph of the soloist, our close friend. My friend merely stared at her, turned forward and took another picture, completely ignoring her rude remark. Then throughout the remainder of the piece, she proceeded to take more pictures, not merely to make a point, but to support our friend, whose performance was on a near professional level and who had worked so hard for many months to come to this point and desired that we document this momentous occasion in her musical career.

Apart from the evident fact that the woman’s incredibly déclassé comment was over the line, it als brings up an interesting point about our current society and this impulse for documentation. Who does this desire to constantly capture the moments of our lives serve? It seems like the obvious answer is ourselves. As humans, we always have this desire to preserve our memories, to continually think back and clearly visualize the good times past, and of course the easiest way to carry this out is to take a photograph.

While this endeavor is often a personal one, it is also true that occasionally, it can be irritating to others. This incident at the concert notwithstanding (especially since it was so uncalled for), another instance comes to mind where incessant photographing became more irritating than endearing. At a School of Public Health event featuring the fashion designer, Kenneth Cole, one woman sitting in front of me tried several times to capture a perfect, non-blurry photo of the designer using flash. Seeing the white glare on his face for about the next 5 to 10 minutes quickly became incredibly annoying and it peeved me that the woman seemed more intent on taking her pictures of this famous figure than actually listening to what he had to say about corporate social responsibility.

To a certain extent, there is nothing wrong at all with wanting to capture the important moments in our lives, and I would certainly encourage the preservation of our good times. But it is very possible that in our great desire to constantly document the events that pass in our lives, we end up becoming removed from the event itself, that in being the one who takes the pictures, we become someone who isn’t completely engaged in the moment and able to enjoy it. We become so focused on just taking pictures that we sometimes miss the emotions and the subtleties taking place within the moment.

I confess that the lady actually yelled at me, not my friend. And I won’t deny that I am oftentimes that girl who loves to take pictures of events. I just really like to see the reactions and expressions on people’s faces as they are confronted with the joys, sorrows, surprises, happiness in their lives; to show them and others the instant responses that overwhelm them and that they would not otherwise be able to see. Yet, I also do realize when to stop and merely drink in the moment with my eyes and not just my camera. I know when to disengage my eye from the viewfinder and put my heart into the minutes passing in the blink of an eye, rather than the blink of the shutter. That evening of the concert, I honestly do feel that the woman’s remark was unwarranted and extremely impolite, however, I am willing to consider her point of view, where perhaps she is the type who doesn’t like pictures to be taken at classical concerts. And having been that woman where I have been annoyed by picture-takers, I can understand where she is coming from. But I do wish that she had been nicer. And I do wish that more people would realize that as much as documenting a moment is important and incredibly meaningful to each individual, so is the enjoyment of a single moment that ends as soon as it begins. And vice versa.

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Gabby Park occasionally likes to listen to classical music and most often loves to take photograph the events taking place in her life.

An underwater sculpture park by Jason de Caires Taylor has gained international recognition for his unique work. His sculptures highlight ecological processes whilst exploring the intricate relationships between modern art and the environment. The cement finish and chemical composition actively promotes the colonisation of coral and marine life.

Imagine creating something with every intention of ensuring its decay. To shed itself of its synthetic, immaculate character in exchange for erosion and gentle oxidations; to meld itself with nature. Growth in decomposition. Therein lies the art.

This notion of disintegration, of systematically, plucking off atom by atom an initially seamlessly structured entity to its naked constituent bones… well, it’s just strangely alluring. Not only does this motif permeate visual art, but it emerges in the realm of literature; I recall a passage from Don Delillo’s White Noise:

Albert Speer wanted to build structures that would decay gloriously, impressively, like Roman ruins. No rusty hulks or gnarled steel slums. He knew that Hitler would be favor anything that might astonish posterity. He did a drawing of a Reich structure that was to be built of special materials, allowing it to crumble romantically — a drawing of fallen walls, half-columns furled in wisteria. The ruin is built into the creation.

Where does this rather counter-intuitive trend spawn from? After all – why not glorify aesthetic perfection and produce architectural marvels that rise and stand, frozen in that moment of time encapsulating their birth? Why not conceive of a world (since art can move beyond reality) where time is construed as some tangible density, acting as a preservative rather than an agent of fermentation and chemical decay? As audiences to art, we seek to find beauty in what is presented before us. We want to be stirred. As humans, it inherent for us to yearn poignancy.

In the commercialistic modern world we inhabit, the visually sleek, the sublimely crafted is marketed towards us – or rather fired towards us with an alarming mathematically accuracy to pierce maximum desire into our hearts. Boxes of technological phenomena, tubes and glass bottles of resplendent hues, and exquisite scents to mask our natural human features and processes, are marketed widely and are appreciated by the masses. There is some portion of us that delights in the idealized – that perfect, unspoiled form, that sheen of the new.

And yet, we are self-loathing because in those moments when the rapidity of life slightly loses its vigor and pace, the fruitlessness of our pursuit becomes painfully apparent.

Taylor and Speer embrace the timely decay of the natural and artificial; theirs are a much more realistic portrayal of the universe we inhabit. But why is deterioration so beautiful? A crooked frame of a bird sprawled on the pavement elicits an initial feeling of discomfort and an instinct to shrink away, yet for me (and perhaps for you, too), I’m unable to will my gaze away from this spectacle.

Perhaps it represents us. It is catching Time in the act of doing its business. In its terrifying inexplicability, we find something beautiful and feel a quiet, involuntary tremble between our ribs reminding us that we are alive. The ephemeral nature of existence gives weight and meaning to life; the very mortality of things and their sheer vulnerability brings forth the worth of every object, for objects innately, without the presence of a human to perceive it, do not possess ‘worth’. Artists then, are rightfully so to be engrossed with the subject of decay. As Ray Carney puts it:

Art is not about making gorgeous images, but about revealing things that matter. Don’t confuse beauty and prettiness. Real beauty is not pretty. It is scary or disorienting, because it threatens everything we think we know.

And thus, I end on an excellent and utterly enthralling articulation by Mr. Carney (from The Path of the Artist) and leave you to better surmise, or simply mull over the reasoning behind what makes this rather dreadful steady deterioration so ineffably enchanting.

Sue majors in Neuroscience & English and tends to lurk in bookstores.

Where are the best places to study on campus?

This is a message both for students and members of the community alike about where to study and or hang out on campus.  Students can avoid the boisterous lunges of babies, while community members can escape the sea of 20 something’s filling up every table with papers, computers and coffee.  After two and a half years of going to school on this campus, I label myself a connoisseur of ‘fine studying locations.’

Brainstorming ideas for this weeks writing, the novel idea of writing about an environment where I spend most of my out of class hours would be a great topic for discussion.  Every student on this campus has their special spot where they go to get the juices flowing.  Whether it’s a little nook in the Ugli or smoking a hookah while studying (still not sure how that works) at Rendez-vous, every square foot of this campus is crawling with one student or another just trying to get work done.

Let’s split up the areas on campus conducive for studying into four regions: South U., State St., Main St., and Kerrytown.

The South University area comprises of Starbucks, Rendez-vous, Espresso Royal, Amer’s, the Shapiro Undergraduate Library, the Hatcher Graduate Library, Clements Library, and the Fine Arts library (which is a lovely kept secret).  Here you have two distinct categories, library vs. coffee shop.  The Ugli is indeed ugly, with limited seating, barren walls, and few windows.  Not a conducive learning environment.  The Graduate Library is intense, filled with ornate walls and ceilings, not to mention the numerous grad students working on dissertations and other lofty assignments that turn our 5 page papers to shame.  Personally, I have never been in the Clements library, but I hear it is petite and wonderful.  You should check it out; it probably will be empty, thus quiet.  That is if you like to study in silence.  Another hidden treasure is the Fine Arts Library.  The one level library seems to date back to the 70’s, providing a retro new world.

There are those who like to study in libraries and equally those who are partial to coffee shops.  Some dabble in both I am sure.  If you don’t mind listening to groovy music and others conversations, then Espresso Royal and Starbucks are perfect for you.  Those of you who smoke out there, and hate leaving your work for five minutes (don’t we all) for a cig break, then Rendez-vous is your safe haven.  Lastly for those others who enjoy excellent food and a quieter environment, you may want to try Amer’s.  In the wintertime they have a fire burning, which is quite lovely and also mesmerizing.

Moving SE onto the next quadrant, we come across the State St. wonders.  This area is comprised of solely coffee shops for studying purposes.  I will begin rattling off the list.  There is another Espresso Royal, and yet another Starbucks and Amer’s, and a Boarders.  With the exclusion of Starbucks, all of these places have great vibes (sorry Starbucks lovers).  The Espresso Royal is much quieter than the one on South U. and you can place yourself far into the back of the building where you won’t be bothered by the traffic of the customers.  Similarly, Amer’s is larger than the one on South U., but with this the noise level is higher.  Boarder’s has an amazing environment.  You are able to sit in whatever genre of literature you please and do your work in peace.

Continuing in the SE direction, we come across Main St.  Again there is a Starbucks and Espresso Royal, but these are often filled with community members, thus having more potential for screaming babies. Beware!  A place that my roommates and I really enjoy is Sweetwaters Coffee and Tea.  You feel a bit more removed from campus, which alleviates some of the stress.  It is a quiet environment with yummy treats.

I have not explored Kerrytown as much as the other regions, but they too have a Sweetwaters Coffee and Tea.  If you are close to one of these locations I strongly encourage you to move your studies into this environment.

Let me know where your study hot spots are!

Sara majors in Art History and enjoys long walks.

Have you ever had a day that was so horrible that the extent to which it sucked was astounding? How did you deal? Did you stuff your face with junk food and drown your sorrows in the latest episode of Grey’s Anatomy? Or did you call your friends and bitch to them about your issues? Well readers (aka my parents), this past Friday I experienced the crappiest day of my life and indulged in all the things listed above. I won’t go into the details of what caused the mental breakdown (and lack of good sense regarding the limit of cream puff intake), but suffice to say there were tears, Tiramisu, and tweed. Lots of tweed- specifically of the Chanel kind. That’s right folks- when I get bummed I do some serious window shopping. However, instead of scouring gap.com for five dollar t-shirts, I decided that a good ol’ fashion movie was in order (Key words being fashion and movie). So, chocolate in hand I made my way over to the Michigan Theater to catch a screening of “Coco before Chanel.” I went in thinking the gorgeous dresses and presumably inspirational story about a French woman creating a fashion empire would cheer me up. As usual, I was completely wrong.

I left the theater completely underwhelmed and slightly more irritated than when I had entered. Save for the gorgeous shots of the French countryside and early twentieth century French fashion, the plot lacked a consistent driving force. The film spent much of its run time of 110 minutes building up to a climactic moment that happened far too quickly for anyone to notice. It seemed as if one moment Coco was a poor orphan girl singing in sleazy bars, while the next moment she was showcasing her world famous fashions to Parisian elite. Where was the struggle? Where was the triumph? However, the lack of a steady plot wasn’t the only thing that made this movie frustrating to watch- the entire movie was painfully SLOW. So slow in fact, that at several points during the movie my friend opened up her bag, picked up her cell phone, and began surfing the internet. Just FYI to the directors, producers, etc. of feature films- it’s never a good sign when people are texting while watching your movie and contemplating how much longer this “torture session” will last.

However, if we take away all the superficial aspects of film presentation, there is a deeper, more fundamental problem with the movie “Coco before Chanel.” It was essentially a love story. Call me a pessimist, feminist, or ludicrous, but I couldn’t help but to agree with my friend when she mentioned that the entire film was basically an ode to men- specifically the men in Coco’s life. Through most of the movie, she is seen chasing after men in order to get by. In fact, it isn’t after she meets her boyfriend (more specifically the love of her life) that her career begins. It is also interesting to note that even though she does eventually succeed in her endeavors, the movie ends on a rather depressing note. The first line of the ending narration is that “Coco never married.” Is that what’s really important?! Is the institution of marriage more important than describing the maverick and visionary that Coco was?

Maybe you think I’m overreacting. Maybe I am. Maybe I am just a crazy feminazi who is overly sensitive to cultural images and stressed out from my orgo exam. Or maybe this movie is crap and perpetuates the patriarchal institutions within our society. Take an evening out of your day (hopefully not a crappy one) and see it- let me know what you think 🙂

It had been sitting either on my desk or the coffee table downstairs for about a month before I finally gave it more than a “I’ve got to get to that” thought. I had been receiving e-mail after e-mail about its due date, and being the lazy product of the Internet that I am I simply checked renew instead of making an effort to actually view the film and then walk down to the library to return it. By the end of the month, I could have sworn it was not only following me around the apartment but also growling softly in my ear.

Or maybe making a high pitched “Mmhmm”.

I really should have popped this movie in sooner.

The Dark Crystal is a product of Jim Henson, that amazing mind who came with Muppets Treasure Island, and firmly has a place in cult 80’s children movies like Labyrinth and the Never Ending Story trilogy.

The plots are never award worthy, but they have their moments of such absurdity that you cannot help but love them. For example, The Dark Crystal’s trial for emperor is not a fight to the death, but rather a test to see who can make the biggest dent in a rock. And in Labyrinth, who doesn’t laugh a the line “Your mother is an aardvark!”. Things in the 80’s were just so out there, hair included, that you can only raise an eyebrow and laugh.

But what really made this movie for me was the sets. I’ve never seen anything so elaborate. Okay, so Middle Earth is drop dead gorgeous and Hogwarts is jaw dropping, but a lot of the sets are natural or done digitally. Sometimes even with paints.

The forest in the Dark Crystal thrums with life that come straight out of a think tank of seven year olds, and it all moves. It’s a real, working set and the details just blows me away. Nothing like it is seen in movies today and it almost saddens me because it’s such a great work of art. And then of course I think of how just how beautiful the Transformers are and think not is all lost in this digital age.

What also got me during Henson’s movie was the puppets. The entire cast is composed of them, and yet there are moments when they move so fluidly in full body shots you can’t help but pause in following the narrative and think, how does that work?

And the detail! You can see in every wrinkle of skin, every sunken scab, every exoskeleton dent that it’s obvious much time, effort, and money went into constructing them. How can you not love a movie that pays so much attention to the details? Everything is taken care of and watched closely. As amusing as catching the tiny out of place details in other movies is, it’s nice to know that some film crews love their work so much that they make sure everything is perfect. True artists if you ask me.

Your 80’s fanatic,

Jenny

♫How high does the Sycamore grow? If you cut it down, you’ll never know♪

Ah, Disney songs. There are few things in life that give me as great pleasure as blasting them from my laptop and singing along, or move me as much, bringing back so many memories. I know, I know, am I so obsessed with Disney that I would be a Disney princess for Halloween then speak about it again in this post?

Well, yes… I won’t deny that I do love Disney. For all of its big corporation characteristics, its unrealistic and unattainable childhood dreams so deeply inculcated within us since our births, its stereotypical and standardized representations of different people, its formulaic story lines, I love Disney. That is to say, the old Disney. The old Disney where we cheered on the mice as they sewed ribbon onto Cinderella’s pink ball gown; where we urged Prince Eric to kiss Ariel then cringed with their boat got turned over; where we became fearful as Jafar gained power and made everything his in the kingdom. Where we learned life lessons of looking beyond appearances in Beauty and the Beast, to ignore social class distinctions in Aladdin, to keep fighting for love in Hercules, to keep an open mind about others in Pocahontas. Where we learned how to be strong even as a woman from Mulan, to pray and care for others in The Hunchback of Notre Dame, to be a leader and take responsibility in The Lion King. These are the morals taught by such movies.

What are Disney movies like nowadays? They’re filled with fodder for teenyboppers, featuring favorite artists like Hannah Montana and talking about everyday life and everyday things sometimes not befit for children. There are little clear moral values and lessons, there are no inspirational and scene-fitting songs. There lacks the sweet simplicity of childhood movies and in its stead is a complicated plot involving love triangles, dating mishaps and disobedient children. It just isn’t the same.

I’m afraid for the future generations. Those children who won’t know who Aladdin is or what Mulan did for her family. Those who don’t grow up having learned the tragedies that sometime overtake a family, like in The Lion King, or those who don’t understand the importance of painting with the colors of the wind (of course, highly metaphorical). Kids don’t seem to learn from the media anymore. When they do learn, it’s about boys and makeup and dating; it’s about how to skip class or make peanut butter sandwiches. It’s not about the broader life-integral lessons anymore, it’s about the normal day-to-day things.

While, yes, many academics have made the case for culture being the ordinary, perhaps the media industry takes that too far in this day and age, using this as an excuse to just produce the same formulaic, unstimulating fodder for an audience who no longer uses its ability to critically think or function. Where, because what is portrayed on the screen are the everyday images we are used to, we stop analyzing or critiquing them in an edifying manner. We don’t really learn anything. At least these Disney movies, as removed from reality as they were, still managed to teach us core values still inherent and relevant in society today, and which we carry within our hearts to this day.

It makes me sad to know that these movies ended with my generation. I think we were at the peak of the cycle of awesome Disney films and of course, as the crest has ended, so has the trough come. Maybe I’m being nostalgic, but I’m also speaking the truth. Greater inspiration will seldom be found than from great old Disney movies.

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Gabby Park likes to wear maroon tights and go swinging in the playground.