It’s a rare occasion for all of the three roommates that live in our home to gather themselves into some semblance of synchrony and sit down for a proper dinner in the dining hall. Because phenomena like this are few and far between, we decide it is all too appropriate to indulge in dessert and coffee following the generous helpings of exquisite dormitory cuisine. But alas, the perspiring lemon tarts, shrugging in a fatigued melancholy under the unflattering fluorescent lights looked as appealing as a hot poker to the eye. And alas, the community coffee holder was depleted of its contents. I had lost all my dignity while stubbornly and furiously depressing the button in hopes that by sheer force — by my superior cognitive and muscular might— some secret compartment within the device might open and coffee would, in a sudden happy deluge, spill forth into the awaiting cup. This did not occur.

To compromise for this setback, we decided upon a Plan. But before I divulge the details of the Plan, a little background information may be appropriate.

While one of my roommates is typically home, diligently learning two foreign languages and intermittently bending completely out of shape in the name of economics, the other one is mysteriously absent from her one-third of the room. Only between the odd hours of 1 and 5 am do we ever chance upon to hear the lock click and subsequently see a dark, disheveled, abstraction emerge silently from hallway. We have already crawled under our covers and we are now rubbing our eyes in sheer exhaustion and half-conscious confusion from reading an excess of cryptic Middle English. Because my brain emphatically demands sleep and possibly also because I am myopic, the construct of this nebulous silhouette diffracts and then liquefies into complete and utter incoherence.

The next morning, we find evidence of her presence by the chaotic array of blankets and enigmatic imprint of a body within the fabric. But for all we knew, she had vanished to the distant outposts of infinity.

This is the life of an Art and Design student living on central campus.

Now, you see, the Plan involved ascertaining that this roommate of ours was in fact still enrolled at the UM Art and Design School and not frolicking about on North Campus, engaging in an array of boisterous tomfoolery of which we had not been invited to. She happily conceded to our request to view her projects and so, on a Friday night tinged with the slight bite of the November air, we made our way to The Land of the Engineers and Artists and entered the Art and Design headquarters.

We immediately found that she had obviously not been engaging in boisterous tomfoolery and were quite taken aback at the talent of our peers whose works, poised tactfully behind glass, invited, and on occasion even, stole our attention. The reasoning behind her extended absences was explained in the series of cases, the manifolds of studios and workshops holding student art. The sheer weight of the ideas, the manifestations of complex and meticulous concepts combined with earnest workmanship, strained the architecture of the building.

After some preliminary perusal, she brought us to one of her pieces that she had worked on with a group in her multi-medium class: a school of fish cut from copper and held together by the continuity of their collective three dimensionality and the aquatic, streamlined body shapes they shared. Concurrently, each creature glimmered in its individual undulations to and fro creating patterns of shadows and playing with the physics of light to create a cohesive, aesthetically pleasing piece. Although anchored to the wall, it nevertheless suggested the concept of motion.

To continue the tour, she brought us to an art classroom where her most recent group project – the culprit responsible for her currently sleep-deprived state – stood in all its glory and casting sharp, impressive streaks of shadow on the concrete floor. We decided it was well worth the cost of one night’s slumber. The paper architectural framework appeared to burst in outrage; a tangible interpretation of an exclamatory, willing its viewer to come forth and inspect its integrity. (Interestingly, the work appeared to have toppled in exhaustion of its persistent visual strength, and needed the temporary bolstering of a chair.)

We eventually scoured most of the building. Every corner that we turned in the Art and Design building, we encountered more creations by students at our school – artists that would continue the revolution of visual art, define aesthetic appeal and cultivate notions of beauty in our era. They would do this, in exchange for coming home to their roommates, and in exchange for turning in for the night. There is no such thing as suspension of consciousness in their endeavors.

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

If you are a person interested in any aspect of your present day life, then Current TV is perfect for you.  Current is a station through Comcast..yes, I know Comcast is the bane of your existence, but at least is offers Current, which highlights important and prevalent stories that are not discussed in the popular media.  Those of you out there who have escaped the devilish workings of Comcast, kudos to you, but don’t fret, like everything else you can find Current on the Internet.  Here you can watch episodes from Current TV, read articles, listen to music, and respond like a blogger would to any one or more of these mediums.

If you are one of those people, like myself, who feel guilty about relaxing and watching TV, Current alleviates that guilt because this information is essential to your growth and knowledge of the world and its events.  So please, relax.

It provides a gateway to the most abundant and versatile newsroom I have ever seen.

A few of my favorite Current shows are Vanguard, Embedded, and Max and Jason: Still Up.  Other shows include The Rotten Tomatoes Show, Current Vitals, Current Tonight, Supernews, and infoMania.  Vanguard is on Wednesday nights at 10 pm and follows a journalist as he or she uncovers worldwide issues.  A couple of the episodes I have seen explore both national and international drug wars, making you aware of some heavy issues going on around the world.

So for those of you reading this statement that have known about Current for years, and thus are snickering at my slow uptake skills, I apologize for the cultural redundancy.  On the other hand, those of you who are reading about Current as a foreign notion, I strongly urge you to go turn on your TV or sit at your laptop and allow Current to open your eyes to the untold stories of your world.

You can find Current at current.com

Enjoy!

Sara majors in Art History and enjoys long walks

I stood in line in front of Michigan Theater staring at a glass covered poster. The background was white and clean. A pair of dark sunglasses sat neatly atop a thick platform. Words in black and crimson typeface were organized into discrete pockets of space on the poster. I tried to make out the words behind the glass pane, but the cold night air made my eyes water. Before I could make my way closer to the poster it was my turn. “One ticket for ‘The September Issue’ please.”

The tag-line of the movie reads “Fashion is a religion. This is the Bible.” Though this may seem like a gross exaggeration, it is in fact the truth. Fashion is not only a form of artistic expression, but also a multi-billion dollar industry. Each issue of Vogue serves a forecast of sorts, determining the trends in business and retail that will affect the coming seasons. In fact to say it is anything but a holy text is an understatement. It is the golden standard of fashion and has catapulted the careers of many designers. But, you may ask, who is in charge of this revered publication? Her name is Anna Wintour and she is almost as legendary as the magazine which she runs.

The film “The September Issue” tries to uncover the mechanics of putting together the September issue (the biggest one of the year), while also introducing audiences to the people behind the publication. However, for ninety minutes, the documentary does not go beyond the surface with Wintour’s character and ultimately fails in shedding new light on her persona. Instead, the audience is treated to a constant parade of colorful clothes and even more colorful personalities. Though the larger than life Andre Leon Talley and witty Grace Coddington serve as consolation prizes for the audience, they both provide a window through which Ms. Wintour can be examined. However, this examination is purely professional rather than personal. The only scene where the audience gets a slight sense of  Wintour’s humanity is in the waning moments of the film. It is during those final moments where you see Wintour’s hard exterior crack as she describes her sibling’s negative attitudes towards her and her work. It is then that the audience starts to feel sorry for her and begin to see an almost insecure shadow of Wintour. However, this fleeting scene unfortunately does not make up for the 85 minutes spent recording the same chaotic scenarios of botched photo shoots and mismatched clothing.

To be honest, I was thoroughly disappointed in the execution of this film and left the theater wanting more. Though the movie achieved the easy goal of elucidating the process of publishing, it did not delve into the most interesting part of the fashion industry- the people, more specifically, Anna Wintour. As a fan of Vogue, I would have loved to learn more about the woman in charge and her own personal thoughts on the industry rather than witnessing her formulaic display of professionalism. However, I do believe that any fan of fashion and art would find parts of this film highly entertaining. If you end up checking out this movie let me know what you think in the comments section below. Have a great week!

P.S Check out the trailer here

It’s here, it’s here! *jumps up and down*

November is National Novel Writing Month, and I’m so excited. The rules, write a novel (175 pages aka 50,000 words) in the period of a single month. It has to be done from scratch, outline is acceptable, but the whole focus is the time limit.

I’m a huge writing fan, though my experience with original fiction is limited to a failed Hopwood attempt and public schooling assignments. I have a problem with coming up with original characters, so I admit I usually write fan fiction.

I am really pleased that my roomie shares my passion, though we exist in different fandoms (I’m Transformers and she’s Star Trek). So we decided that we will each write a total of 50,000 words of fiction this month. That’s over sixteen hundred words a day. I’m so glad midterms are over now >.<

It’s a great feat to attempt, and some have been very successful at it. Think Water for Elephants. While most finished manuscripts are poor quality, for obvious reasons, there have been some written during this event that have then later been published.

Obviously, that’s not my own goal here, I really just want to see if I can do it. Next year, I’ll actually write up one of the novel ideas floating around in my head. Having a book published is one of my life goals.

NaNoWriMo is actually pretty young as event, 10 years this November. It started with only 21 participants in the San Fransisco area. Last year, there were over 100,000 authors participating nation wide.

You’re welcome to join in the action here, or see how I’m doing! Look up Uniasus.

Your writer wanna-be,
Jenny

“Yeah, it’s Halloween, which means girls can dress slutty without seeming too slutty”, a girl once said.
–“Well, then you’re making it seem like all girls want to dress slutty and on Halloween, they seize that opportunity”.
———

Hmm….What happened to the days where Halloween was about dressing up as your favorite Disney character and getting lots of candy from your friendly neighborhood parents?  For us college students, is this what the time-honored tradition of disguises and spooky treats have become– an occasion for debauchery, drinking, and gluttony?  Is this what everything becomes in college?

I would have to say that the statement about women and slutty clothing does seem to apply for a fair number of females in the university setting.  It, of course, does not help that most adult female costumes tend to be on the sexier side, with high-slit witches gowns, low-cut bar maid tops, extremely short and skimpy French maid outfits, and slinky Cruelle de Vil dresses.  What about our culture today generates this desire for women to become sexy whores on an occasion when they can be anything but?  When they can step outside the bounds of our heavily sexualized and sex-dependent mass culture to become an entity entirely removed from mediated societal norms?  Is this continuation of the push for sexy women ever going to stop?  Is it right?

The answer is that the sexualized women is not always right.  Of course, women have come such a long way in political as well as personal liberation, allowing for the open discussion and acceptance of sex and the sexualized female.  However, once that liberation becomes a means of exploitation, then that is where the line must be drawn.  And, I believe, on Halloween, this exploitation is more evident than ever.  It is true that as women, the choice always exists– we can be that fairy tale princess or we can be that half-naked Minnie Mouse.

For this Halloween, my friends and I decided to forgo the sluttiness this year and become Disney princesses.  With a party themed as the classic Disney Romances, we had friends who dressed as raggedy Cinderella, shy Christopher Robins, Giselle from Enchanted, Alice in Wonderland, bookworm Belle from Beauty & the Beast.  It was a nice change to see people fully clothed and having fun without the desire to seem as sexy or seductive, but merely cute and enchantinng.

That’s not to say that it’s a bad thing to be sexy or seductive.  I fully agree that women should always feel comfortable being sexy and seductive, that we have every right to be open about sex and sexuality.  But, perhaps, on Halloween, we can get away from the normal societal claims of the overly sexualized woman to return back to our childhood dreams of being Disney princesses*.

*It is acknowledged that Disney princesses are not always the ideal; this is another topic for another time.

—–

Gabby Park likes to eat and make short videos with her friends.

They told me that the truth of the universe was inscribed into our very bones. That the human skeleton was itself a hieroglyph.
— ‘Something to Remember Me By’ from Collected Stories, Saul Bellow

Generally, when my roommate and I find a breath of a space between the obligations of academia, we declare that we must experience a wider, bolder swath of life — a swath of life beyond the innocuous margins of the text, the pedantic erudition and the giant, intellectual abstractions digestible only in quiet rooms steeped with the aroma of books. In these moments of vast aspiration, we have been known to turn to art — to experiencing this genre of life on our own terms under no overarching formalities or fine, symmetrical theories.

On most days we are terribly conventional pair, opting for UMMA or the DIA to set up our inevitable encounter with a masterpiece of leviathan proportions. Under the shadow of this work of art we would stand, humbled and bemused by its catastrophic beauty, yet unable to intelligently articulate why we felt the way we did. It might’ve been the subtle variations of color, the bluntness of the visual narrative or something more intuitive, like our individual capacity to identify with it that made it so poignant and remarkable. Regardless, our aesthetic senses were piqued. Our goal achieved, we would meander back home to tend to our books.

Traditionally speaking, art grasped our attention in the context of a museum, under soft bright lighting, backdropped with wide expanses of benevolently-hued walls. An air of legitimacy bound the place together.  Yet, perhaps the most ruthless art, the art that had stricken me and had made me feel that terrifying unshakeable vulnerability in the depths of the marrow, occurred most peculiarly in my physics class.

The subject in question was the human body.

Time and time again, I am enthralled by Nature’s wit, manifesting in tasteful, charming creations in every taxonomic branch of life; I am rendered utterly incapable of verbalizing its sheer grandeur. Oftentimes, I don’t think we truly appreciate how miraculous our bodies really are and how come a century or two, the frontier of science will hardly come close to imitating every complexity of our human anatomy. On the most basic, structural level, we are composed of a series of levers and wedges and joints which collectively, so to speak, cheat the inexorable downward pull of gravity. I lift my arm and my mind can only hope to understand the mechanisms that have just transpired beneath this opaque coating, the sliding and pulling and pushing of tendons, exerting a perpendicular force with the radial length of our forearms. And something so plain like hands – these sculpted specimens of extension have created and destroyed and pantomimed across tables and surfaces for centuries. Musicians, with their combination of crisply abrupt tips and taps of fingers on taut strings, of fingers alighting on piano keys to produce a swell of seamlessly strung chords, can give thanks to every delicate and carefully placed sinew, tendon entwined on bone. Further, our ears are capable of capturing these ghostly waves of sounds traveling at amplitudes and frequencies, ethereal and impalpable, yet absolute. (If only I understood what sound looked like inside myself.) One cell proliferates so our growth accelerates, pieces all compiling together to create exquisitely contoured masses constituting as life. What a daunting endeavor Nature has taken, refining era after era, for all these laws come together and combine to culminate in a fully functioning human being. (And here we are, suspended in this strange position as observers and corporeal manifestations of these laws. It is an innately human conundrum exclusive to our species.)

Nature’s ingenuity is perhaps the best coalescence of science and art that I have encountered. It is an art that reaches a degree of personal relevance beyond what can be found in traditional museums. Needless to say, my roommate and I are thrilled about the Arts & Bodies focus by the Arts on Earth program happening this semester and will be traipsing around campus to attend the various events.

The art of nature – and the art of bodies makes me certain that science is the artist that I revere and am enthralled by the most.

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