Final Essay

There are certain stereotypes that we see when looking at universities in America. The quad, filled with students walking between classes. Greek Row, where there’s always a party. A cafeteria or two. A front gate, proclaiming the school’s name in large fancy serif fonts. Walls that enclose the campus, creating a secluded little world that nothing can harm. At Columbia College Chicago, none of these things exist. We don’t have a campus, we make Chicago into our campus. And consequently, the work that comes out of this art school is different than anything else you would see at a traditional university. Around here, we live and breathe the city of Chicago as if we have climbed on its back and are holding on for the ride. In Columbia’s college-wide Mission Statement, one of the purposes of the college is to “conduct eduction in close relationship to a vital urban reality”. Because we are a part of the city, we see differently, and therefore the art that we produce is unique to this school.
At Columbia, we are given many opportunities to show off our work in all sorts of mediums. Instead of narrowing your focus down to one department or major, Columbia somehow gives us the curriculum to look at multiple aspects of our majors, therefore giving us a broader scope of the “real world”. Many of these mediums are showcased in art galleries. In an art exhibition at Columbia, you can see anything from a painting to a looped video on a television screen, to the background music while you’re wandering around a gallery. Since we can experience all of these mediums in one place, we can connect to all different majors and give us a more comprehensive look at the world around us.
Dwelling was a art exhibition located in Columbia’s C33 gallery, and showcased work by Columbia students. It was a new look into the ways that we process different aspects of space, memory, and home. The show looks to play on the places that we seek refuge in, both physically and mentally. It looks at the places that we dwell in the most, and forces you to put yourself inside of the artwork to invoke different emotions. Thirteen artists have put their work together to show the sequence of emotions going through the interior and exterior of the places in which we dwell, and also uses the relationships between people and places to draw the audience in.
The show begins in the exterior sections, and takes a look at the material concepts of home and the space around the home. One of the most noticeable pieces is “Escape” by Heather Boaz. It features a window frame, with a long chain of bed sheets knotted together hanging from it. The title of the work allows the audience to create their own narrative for the piece, but with all the same feeling of needing to escape their dwellings. The other piece that Boaz shows in the collection is one of the most simple, but also one of the most striking. “Defense” shows a doorknob being held back by a wooden chair. While the piece is simplistic, it conjures a different image and narrative to everyone who looks at it; a definite feat for something so minimal.
Just about all of the pieces in Dwelling lack the image of a person in the artwork. This gives the audience plenty of opportunities to fit themselves into the scenarios and works presented. “Memory Archive” by Anna Katherine Peters is a perfect example of this. The wall of Polaroid photographs focuses on specific places in and around a home, with never a human in sight. The spectator is about to fit themselves into the pictures perfectly, without being overwhelmed with senses. Many objects appear in the photographs, but all with a specific purpose; to let the viewer conjure up their own assumptions and memories of the space, even if they’re not familiar with the atmosphere.
Dwelling feels quite emotional when you walk in. The lighting is dim, and the placards are somewhat hard to read because of it. You have to get up close and personal with the pieces in order to completely understand some of them. One video even had headphones, which let you fully experience the sound of a suburban neighborhood, a definite dwelling for most who look at it. The overwhelming feeling of Dwelling left me quite nostalgic for my life before coming to Chicago. I think that’s part of what the artists were trying to invoke in the viewer. This nostalgia away from the busy city streets outside, and back to their childhoods and back to the spaces that they used to dwell in. If the exhibition was in a different town, say at a local art gallery or community college, you would have a completely different experience. Because you can hear the busy streets outside and see the students walking down the hall, Dwelling transports you to a different place, and therefore takes on a new meaning.
Some of the work found at Columbia isn’t by Columbia students at all. Instead, the college has provided us with professionals to watch and learn from. In most fields of study, it helps to look to others for us to understand why things work and why others don’t. Talking with authors, for instance, can be helpful to writers who struggle with plot or dialogue. Or we can be shown a dance company to influence people into different styles that they may not understand.
I’m not going to pretend I understand dance. While watching the different ways that the body can move is entertaining enough, I have no idea what they’re trying to do unless it’s fully written out for me. So while watching “Water Stains on the Wall” performed by the Cloud Gate Dance Theater of Taiwan, I was confused, but ultimately entranced. Performed at Columbia’s Dance Center, on a rainy cold fall night, this was the first contemporary dance company that I’ve ever seen, and it was definitely something I wouldn’t be opposed to seeing again.
Choreographed by Lin Hwai-min, founder of the dance troupe, “Water Stains on the Wall” is a visual interpretation into the aesthetics of calligraphy. Throughout the performance, projections of continually moving clouds float across the stark white stage. According to my program, it’s to represent Chinese landscape paintings on an immense rice paper backdrop. It’s not something I would have picked up on without a written description, but now that I think back on it, the technique is visually appeasing. Because it’s a fairly constant motion throughout the production, it doesn’t feel distracting in any way. The costumes are likewise, very plain and the dancers never change throughout the performance. From the waist up, they are either shirtless or with a nude color top on. It’s almost like the canvas needed to be bare on the upper half of the body for the giant puffy pants. Seriously, the pants are the same design that we saw out of “Aladdin” during the 90’s, only in a more crisp white and sheer fabric.
Like I said before, I don’t understand dance. On the other hand, I do know design and visuals, and, despite its simplicity of set and costumes, “Water Stains” was captivating to watch. The dancers motions were always fluid, one circular motion flowing direction into another. I studied calligraphy a little bit, and you could almost see the same flicks of the wrist and pressure put down on the brush in the actions of the dancers. Although I’m sure it’s a bit of a stretch for the everyday audience, “Water Stains” is a bizarrely good representation of the process of calligraphy into a large stage. The action is very minimal, and it feels like no movement is wasted.
The other main portion to any dance routine is the music. “Water Stains” has a soundtrack by Toshio Hosokawa that sounds sort of like an adventure video game that I’ve never played before. The soundtrack is somewhat subdued and haunting for the most part, with a Zen-like feeling that relaxes you, and still manages to keep you interested instead of falling asleep. When the music picks up in speed, it also picks up in volume, and starts to sound like I should prepare for battle instead of just sitting around. I didn’t walk away with a certain number stuck in my head, but it was a nice backdrop to the dancers in front of me.
The all-around production of “Water Stains” feels dynamic and different. I think some of the point of contemporary dance is to feel different, and this show pulls it off wonderfully. From the clouds rolling by in the background, to the peaceful, yet powerful score that keeps me entertained, the entire production is something to behold.
By showing us the professionals in our field, Columbia gives its students the unique opportunity to go outside of their comfort zone and grab some new inspiration. The professionals have made this their life’s work, and have used their mediums into an effective life plan. They are the ones currently in the field, and can give us tips on what it’s truly like outside of our college zone, and in the true vital urban reality that is Chicago. They also provide us with new techniques and tools as to different forms of inspiration, to show us where our true passion lies. We don’t take the ideas from them, but we use the ideas into something more, and something to help us when we’ve graduated.
At most universities and colleges, there is a line between if an event is college-related or not. This insures that the college doesn’t have to take blame if something goes wrong, and that the college knows its boundaries. At Columbia, however, the Museum of Contemporary Photography perfectly blurs this line. Located at the base of the 600 S Michigan building, where the administrative offices and various classrooms are housed, the Museum technically is a part of the college. They’re a part of the college phonebook and everything. However, looking at the museum in general, you might not even notice the Columbia logo. The photographs and exhibitions aren’t necessarily by Columbia students. The employees don’t wear badges loudly proclaiming that they’re from Columbia. It’s hard to determine if the space is run, or just simply owned by the college. This is an important aspect of the museum to recognize. Students can easily access the space, giving them another form of inspiration and another art gallery to look at. It’s free, and a welcoming space for creativity juices to get flowing, without feeling like you’re at a college-run event. It’s almost like a little escape from the norm for a period of time, and when you’re surrounded by so many college students and college-themed events, that counts for a lot.
The Museum of Contemporary Photography is currently showing an exhibition all on crime photography, called “Crime Unseen”. The show has photographs by eight different artists, all focused under the subject of retelling historic crimes in a manner to give further contemplation. The pictures force you to think about crime in different layers, underneath the pure knowledge that they happened. They make you think about the people behind the crimes, and the victims left in the wake. Some pictures are haunting, complete with remnants of blood spatter, to the semi-surreal evidence photos by Richard Barnes of a cabin that was inhabited by a man who sent bombs across the country. “Crime Unseen” is a new look into the different crimes of America, and the aftermath of their actions.
The most evocative set of photographs is the installation by Angela Strassheim. Strassheim, a former field agent for the Miami Forensic Imaging Bureau, uses a chemical spray called “Blue Star” to make the remnants of blood spatters show up in rooms where violence has occurred at some point in the past. At first, the spatters are this odd source of light coming from the wall or floor. But then when it finally clicks in your head that it’s not emitting light whatsoever, and really is in odd puddled and splashed patterns, your eyes get wide, and you almost have to look away. The amount of blood is slightly varied, but your mind can still put together horrors upon horrors almost instantly. Strassheim takes special care to contrast color shots of the exterior of the homes to the black and white interiors, showing a true distinction to the serenity and normality of the house to the stark inside. It’s an eerie look into the past, but an enjoyable one.
By examining the evidence, we can also see more in detail the cause and effect of crimes. Richard Barnes takes this to a new level, by showing pictures of a cabin. When you’re first looking at the piece, it’s a little disorienting. What is a cabin doing amongst all of this legality and despair? The cabin was once inhabited by Ted Kaczynski, aka The Unabomber, a man who sent handmade untraceable bombs to various places around the country. The cabin was sent to a storage facility in order to be processed and used for evidence, but was never used in court. Barnes’ pictures take a clinical approach to the structure. Such as in “Unabomber 01”, where the cabin is place in a warehouse setting, it almost looks as if the piece is sitting and waiting for an art exhibition itself. There are no personal details or touches to the structure, it just looms over the space, despite not filling up even a portion of the room.
Many of the other artists showcase work with crimes around Chicago, such as Krista Wortendyke’s  “Killing Season: Chicago”, which has a photograph from every homicide that occurred in Chicago over a three month period starting in October 2010. Altogether, the show almost feels confrontational. We tend to shove these crimes under the rug, only caring when we hear some of the details on the news. “Crimes Unseen” forces to look directly at the evil side of humanity, and see it for what is really is: an uncomfortable, yet necessary, look at our perceptions of humanity, security and control of our environment.
There is a constant pressure in the art world to create something new and different all the time. You have to be unique to stand out and get anywhere, but at the surface, this seems impossible. What if all the ideas in the world have already been claimed? At Columbia, we’re sort of taught to embrace the old and blend it with the new. Instead of trying to come up with new ideas all of the time, to put spins on the old ones, to create something that the world might do a double-take at. Everyone at the school, including our teachers and mentors, is also trying to create something original, but that isn’t always necessary. What’s necessary is the ability to look at old ideas and turn them completely upside down. Columbia forces you to take a good long look at history, and alter the future. After all, those who don’t understand history are doomed to repeat it, and nobody in the art world wants to see that.
“Galileo had a sex life. Who knew?” It’s a tag line that would make anyone stop and do a double-take. We tend to have a childhood fantasy of the man who looked up at the stars and saw something different, but know next to nothing about his personal life. But that’s exactly what the world premiere production of “Celestial Bodies” tries to bring in to light.
Written by Lisa Schlesinger, assistant professor in Fiction Writing at Columbia, the play revolves around Maria Gamba, Galileo’s mistress. Together, Galileo and Gamba lived together for twelve years and had three illegitimate children together. Not much is known about this time. “Celestial Bodies” takes place over this time period, and is a dramatized version of their lives. Directed by Will Casey, adjunct faculty member in the Theater Department, the play weaves seamlessly through this time period with mostly ease.
“Celestial Bodies” begins with Gamba as a young peasant girl, too poor to attend school, despite her desperate need for more knowledge. Consequently, she dresses up like a man and begins attending school with Galileo. Gamba stays dressed as a man for quite awhile, so the story isn’t a clean cut “boy meets girl” trope. It also doesn’t fall into the Disney story telling of my childhood favorite movie, Mulan, where the character’s feelings dealing with gender identity are never addressed. You can see on Galileo’s (played by Lee Bainbridge) face that he is positively entranced with this new person, but doesn’t know how to act or react to his feelings. It’s something interesting to watch, especially with the backdrop of the 17th century.
Although most of the play goes through Maria Gamba’s point of view, a large portion of the advertising material is focused on Galileo. Now, I understand why this is. Galileo is obviously the most well-known of the two, and people relate to him more than a random woman’s name who lives a couple of centuries ago. However, I feel like this misconstrues the point of the play. To me, the point was that in order for Galileo to discover all of his famous scientific theories, he needed a little help behind the scenes. He needed more curiosity, which was brought to him by way of Gamba. Not just for sexual awakening, like the tag line and promotional material would have the audience believe. She is the one who first begins to question the universe around them.
The cast is truly something that just clicks together. You see the relationships between characters at a much deeper level, and without them, I’m not sure the play would have worked. Gamba, played by Columbia senior Erin O’Brien, balances fairly equally the need for Gabma to have her head in the clouds, but also grounded enough to not become a caricature of a character.
As a whole, I tend to love the historical fiction genre, no matter the medium. “Celestial Bodies” does not disappoint in that matter. There were times when I thought the script felt a little forced, but as a whole, this was an excellent world premiere production.
Columbia does have its faults, don’t get me wrong. And every time finals week comes around, you literally feel like there is no creativity left in your soul. But Columbia teaches us about the city and the world around us, therefore preparing us for the future. By coming here instead of a regular university or college, we see the city of Chicago through the eyes of a citizen, not a visitor. We are thrust with new opportunities to take a part in the actual art world, outside of this creative bubble. But because of that bubble, we learn from the professionals around us, and are able to put new spins on old ideas and concepts. We alter the way we think and learn to fit the environment, and consequently this changes our art into something all its own.

The Art of Crime

Within the world of crime, there is something we take for granted far too often. It’s something that helps catch the bad guys, and clear the good guys. It shocks and astounds us, and helps us put things in perspective. It’s the photograph, and in crime photography, a thousand words is never enough.

The Museum of Contemporary Photography is currently showing an exhibition all on crime photography, called “Crime Unseen”. The show has photographs by eight different artists, all focused under the subject of retelling historic crimes in a manner to give further contemplation. The pictures force you to think about crime in different layers, underneath the pure knowledge that they happened. They make you think about the people behind the crimes, and the victims left in the wake. Some pictures are haunting, complete with remnants of blood spatter, to the semi-surreal evidence photos by Richard Barnes of a cabin that was inhabited by a man who sent bombs across the country. “Crime Unseen” is a new look into the different crimes of America, and the aftermath of their actions.

Angela Strassheim - Evidence #11

The most evocative set of photographs is the installation by Angela Strassheim. Strassheim, a former field agent for the Miami Forensic Imaging Bureau, uses a chemical spray called “Blue Star” to make the remnants of blood spatters show up in rooms where violence has occurred at some point in the past. At first, the spatters are this odd source of light coming from the wall or floor. But then when it finally clicks in your head that it’s not emitting light whatsoever, and really is in odd puddled and splashed patterns, your eyes get wide, and you almost have to look away. The amount of blood is slightly varied, but your mind can still put together horrors upon horrors almost instantly. Strassheim takes special care to contrast color shots of the exterior of the homes to the black and white interiors, showing a true distinction to the serenity and normality of the house to the stark inside. It’s an eerie look into the past, but an enjoyable one.

By examining the evidence, we can also see more in detail the cause and effect of crimes. Richard Barnes takes this to a new level, by showing pictures of a cabin. When you’re first looking at the piece, it’s a little disorienting. What is a cabin doing amongst all of this legality and despair? The cabin was once inhabited by Ted Kaczynski, aka The Unabomber, a man who sent handmade untraceable bombs to various places around the country. The cabin was sent to a storage facility in order to be processed and used for evidence, but was never used in court. Barnes’ pictures take a clinical approach to the structure. Such as in “Unabomber 01”, where the cabin is place in a warehouse setting, it almost looks as if the piece is sitting and waiting for an art exhibition itself. There are no personal details or touches to the structure, it just looms over the space, despite not filling up even a portion of the room.

Richard Barnes - Unabomber 01

Many of the other artists showcase work with crimes around Chicago, such as Krista Wortendyke’s  “Killing Season: Chicago”, which has a photograph from every homicide that occurred in Chicago over a three month period starting in October 2010. Altogether, the show almost feels confrontational. We tend to shove these crimes under the rug, only caring when we hear some of the details on the news. “Crimes Unseen” forces to look directly at the evil side of humanity, and see it for what is really is: an uncomfortable look at our perceptions of humanity, security and control of our environment.

“Crime Unseen” is being shown in the Museum of Contemporary Photography at 600 S Michigan until January 15. The museum will be closed from December 23 - January 3 for the holidays, and is free to the public.

You probably haven't heard about it.

Four out of my five classes this semester are located in the 623 S Wabash building, so I feel like I’ve seen everything in that lobby. But sitting on the plastic designer chairs when the lobby is cleared is something that feels decidedly less “Columbia” than I expected. Everyone that is leaving the building seems to have two different modes. They’re either leaving for good, or just going out and shivering for a couple of minutes while smoking. The smokers don’t carry any of their bags with them outside, and sit on the ledge of the window for their nicotine fix. My classmates and I note that not much is going on, because it’s not a time when classes are either starting or ending. Instead, we see some small talk between the security guard and random passersby, and hear the faint chords of Christmas music coming from the cafe. The people who come out of the elevators keep to themselves as they leave the building, or are in duos that are talking quietly. The lack of noise is somewhat disconcerting. It doesn’t feel enough like Columbia, but more like a hotel lobby with a lot of people who wear scarves. But the chill in the air from the front doors opening reminds me that I’m in Chicago, and the twang of cigarette smoke in the air reminds me that I’m at Columbia, where this is the norm.

I don’t often go to The Underground Cafe in 600 S Michigan, but what always strikes me is the smell down there. It’s nothing unpleasant, it’s just something so foreign to my nose that I get confused. It’s a mix of cleaning products, sandwiches, and old coffee (somewhat of a staple in the kitchen of an art student). It’s something I will always relate to this specific place. This visit is one of the more loud experiences I’ve had down there, as there was a group of about 8 students yelling, swearing and laughing in the corner. I feel like The Underground Cafe is quite figuratively underground when it comes to Columbia students. Most people don’t know about it, and even if they do, they never go down there. It’s got a calming white and grey color palette, save for the lime green chairs that I feel like only an arts school can pull off. There’s indie music playing on the loudspeakers. Only at Columbia do I have the inane thought that it might be a student artist playing. The people here by themselves are all working. They’ve either got their Macbooks out, or they’re on one of the provided Mac desktops on the far counter. I can already see the stress of upcoming finals on their faces because I know it’s also written on mine. Undoubtedly, the space will be more filled in the coming week, and the space will feel like more of a coffee shop than a college hangout, but the carefully designed posters haphazardly overlapped on the wall will still tell us that this space is designated to Columbia, and only Columbia students can feel at home here.

Everyone's Invited to Dave Chapelle's Block Party

Throwing myself into the world of the unknown isn’t something that I do very often. It’s easier that way, and I don’t have to try to understand something new. By watching Dave Chapelle’s Block Party, I felt as if I was thrown into the deep end of the world of hip-hop and neo-soul. However, Chapelle’s constant presence and the occasional performance from the main stage made me feel like there was a life preserver for my drowning sanity.

Block Party runs as every concert documentary does. Under the direction of famous visionary Michel Gondry, Chapelle is seen passing out tickets to his show, and scopes out the history of the venue. When the block is empty, he talks about how he can “see it filled”, and the film cuts to shots of the venue being packed with people. However, upon further thought, you find that Block Party is more than your stereotypical concert doc. It divulges into the sense of community and family that is felt within the fans of the music. It tells about the power of music, and how it can be used as a conduit for good, as opposed to the bad that some people mistake it for. The focus turns to the feeling of the music and the emotions that it evokes in people, instead of the music itself.

One of the things that truly struck me about the film was just how many people showed up and were excited about the concert. I personally live in a world outside of hip-hop, and never quite understood the pull that the music has until now. Objectively, I realize that the genre is popular and creates a lot of money in the industry, but I never really thought of the people who listen to it until now. With just Chapelle’s name, they came out in droves to this concert in the middle of Brooklyn. I felt that the most interesting was the Central State University Marching Band. Chapelle offers to transport the entire drumline to the concert for them to perform with Kanye West. The band actually gets permission from the school president to cancel their previous commitments (something rarely done in the realm of marching bands) in order to go to the concert. The elation on their faces is something rarely seen in documentaries. It’s refreshing to see that amount of hope and joy in their screaming faces and they hug each other tightly.

The night before we watched Block Party, I had stayed up till almost 5 in the morning watching livestreams from New York City of the eviction of the Occupy Wall Street camp in Zucotti Park. Through my tired haze, the ending scene of the movie is what really struck me, because of the political relationship to the movement. The scene shows Wyclef Jean of The Fugees chatting with the marching band about what they would do if they were President of the United States. The members give some hopeful responses, such as getting the military out of Iraq and Afghanistan, and for band participants to get scholarships to their school. Jean then goes into a solo piano performance of his smooth ballad, “President”. The lyrics to the song are a much darker and more heartfelt version of the students’ answers.

Instead of spending billions on the war,
I can use that money, to feed the poor.
I know some so poor, when it rains that's when they shower,
when screaming "fight the power".
That's when the vulture devoured

It’s interesting to see that, as a country, we haven’t moved past these same problems that we had in 2004. Seven very long years have gone by, but if anything, the problems seem to be escalating at a rapid rate that no one can stop. When I typically think of hip-hop music, one of the first things I think about is the lyrics that I can never quite understand. Jean uses this song in particular, because it’s slow, and gets the message across. We need change, and music is one way to get through to people. It gets to us on a level that no one else can touch. Especially for these students, who are young adults, and still trying to find their way around in life. When he begins to leave the students, Jean passionately speaks to them as equals, by saying that they should never expect things from “the white man”. They need to go follow their dreams for themselves, because nothing will ever be given to them. And while that description may not sound particularly uplifting, when it's coming from the mouth of Wyclef Jean, the people will listen.

I think that Chapelle’s main mission with the movie was to make neo-soul and hip-hop music more accessible to the general public. Although a majority of people who went to see the movie in theaters probably was either a fan of Chapelle or the various artists, by making this movie, he had a chance to reach a broader audience. For instance, the owner of the Broken Angel house, where the block party took place, explains to the camera that she doesn’t like hip-hop and rap music. She doesn’t think the language is “proper”, for either children or adults. However, by the end of the film, we see a clip of her throwing up a peace sign from the rooftop of the house. I think this gives a sense of acceptance and tolerance that Chapelle tries to give to all audiences.

Block Party is a new and interesting look into the typical concert documentary. It gives us a glimpse into a different culture, one that we may or may not already be familiar with. And instead of just throwing the culture in your face, it gently guides us to a land of acceptance and appreciation, no matter what your musical background may be. Even if you can’t recognize the musical artists on the poster, Chapelle acts as an anchor for the whole project, and keeps you grounded in the new territory.

South Park: It's Just Not Funny to Me

I don't think I'll ever understand the appeal of these characters.

As a child, my parents never really restricted the television shows that I couldn’t watch. However, after a couple minutes of viewing at my cousin’s house, my mother banned me from watching one thing: South Park. It never bothered me as a child, nor as a teenager. The animation didn’t interest me, and from what I’d seen, the voices were about as annoying as a fly buzzing in my ear. So before writing this review, I’d never seen a full episode. Now, I’ve seen two, and I don’t think I’ll ever need to waste another 22 minutes of my life on that show again.
I might have taken the wrong approach in choosing what episodes to watch. Starting with the pilot and season one didn’t interest me, especially when I remembered reading an article with Matt Stone and Trey Parker. The creators stated that they would take back the entire first three seasons of the show if they could. So armed with no knowledge of the plot or characters, I threw myself into the deep end with Season 10, episode 8, “Make Love, Not Warcraft”.
The premise isn’t that difficult. The main characters in the series are addicted to playing World of Warcraft and they all get killed by a super powerful creature that is unstoppable. So they spend the episode getting progressively physically fatter while their game counterparts level up. Although I don’t play any video games, I know a bit about WoW. It should have been an amusing episode. It really, really wasn’t.
Because of the notoriety of the series, I expected something mildly offensive, but ultimately something that would at least make me chuckle. I honestly found nothing funny about the episode whatsoever. Between the stereotypical WoW player with zits and potato chips down the front of his shirt and a serious gross diarrhea gag, I just found nothing entertaining. Not to mention the grating character voices. (Because seriously, I don’t know if I can get over how much of a headache these two episodes gave me.)
Despite a disappointing start, I soldiered on. Although Stone and Parker had ordered their personal favorite episodes in the above interview, I sort of went through the list until something seemed appealing. That something was season 9, episode 6, “The Death of Eric Cartman”. This episode, while more offensive to religion and racial stereotypes, actually made me chuckle twice. Chuckle. Not even a full blown laugh. The story is basically that everyone ignores Cartman to the point where he believes he’s dead. The only person who can see him in the class’ most optimistic, yet anxious, member, Butters. It’s an interesting concept, one that’s I’ve seen a few times before, but never with this much depth. Butters and Cartman travel to see a psychic, atone for Cartman’s errors, and manage to save a hostage situation in just over 20 minutes.
Although I knew the show had been on for years, I never fully understood the magnitude of its cultural importance. It’s been airing since 1997, and has aired over 200 episodes. Truly a staggering number, given the show’s roller coaster ratings and criticism from just about every group and organization there is. It’s the type of dumb, offensive, disgusting comedy that I never found myself enjoying when I was the target age group, let alone now. I don’t know what sort of comedy I like the best. I just know it’s something far away from whatever South Park throws against the wall.

Stained Into My Memory

I’m not going to pretend I understand dance for this review. While watching the different ways that the body can move is entertaining enough, I have no idea what they’re trying to do unless it’s fully written out for me. So while watching “Water Stains on the Wall” performed by the Cloud Gate Dance Theater of Taiwan, I was confused, but ultimately entranced. This was the first contemporary dance company that I’ve ever seen, and it was definitely something I wouldn’t be opposed to seeing again.

Choreographed by Lin Hwai-min, founder of the dance troupe, “Water Stains on the Wall” is a visual interpretation into the aesthetics of calligraphy. Throughout the performance, projections of continually moving clouds float across the stark white stage. According to my program, it’s to represent Chinese landscape paintings on an immense rice paper backdrop. It’s not something I would have picked up on without a written description, but now that I think back on it, the technique is nice. Because it’s a fairly constant motion throughout the production, it doesn’t feel distracting in any way. The costumes are likewise, very plain and the dancers never change throughout the performance. From the waist up, they are either shirtless or with a nude color top on. It’s almost like the canvas needed to be bare on the upper half of the body for the giant puffy pants. Seriously, the pants are the same design that we saw out of “Aladdin” during the 90’s, only in a more white and sheer fabric.

Like I said before, I don’t understand dance. On the other hand, I do know design and visuals, and, despite its simplicity of set and costumes, “Water Stains” was captivating to watch. The dancers motions were always fluid, one circular motion flowing direction into another. I studied calligraphy a little bit, and you could almost see the same flicks of the wrist and pressure put down on the brush in the actions of the dancers. Although I’m sure it’s a bit of a stretch for the everyday audience, “Water Stains” is a bizarrely good representation of the process of calligraphy into a large stage. The action is very minimal, and it feels like no movement is wasted.

The other main portion to any dance routine is the music. “Water Stains” has a soundtrack by Toshio Hosokawa that sounds sort of like an adventure video game that I’ve never played before. The soundtrack is somewhat subdued and haunting for the most part, with a Zen-like feeling that relaxes you, and still manages to keep you interested instead of falling asleep. When the music picks up in speed, it also picks up in volume, and starts to sound like I should prepare for battle instead of just sitting around. I didn’t walk away with a certain number stuck in my head, but it was a nice backdrop to the dancers in front of me.

I think my main problem with “Water Stains” is that I was looking for a story. I was looking for that backdrop to tell me the story of the Chinese landscape or the story that the calligraphy was supposed to be telling me. And from what I can tell, there was no story. I don’t think it’s a detriment to the production whatsoever, it’s just a personal preference that I had a hard time looking past.

The all-around production of “Water Stains” feels dynamic and different. I think some of the point of contemporary dance is to feel different, and this show pulls it off wonderfully. From the clouds rolling by in the background, to the peaceful, yet powerful score that keeps me entertained, the entire production is something to behold. Unfortunately, the only performances in Chicago were on October 28/29, but when you see the Cloud Gate Dance Theater of Taiwan name, it’s definitely something to check out in the future.

Tumblr, and Twitter, and Facebook, oh my!

Hello there. My name is Jessica, and I am afflicted with IAD. It’s a chronic disorder, which causes me to stay up to unmentionable hours of the night, and keeps me indoors for good portions of the day. It’s not something life-threatening, but has probably killed my social life more than I care to admit. And to tell the truth, it’s not even recognized as a true mental disorder. It’s the Internet addiction disorder, and I’ve got it bad.
I think my addiction started when I was in around the fourth grade, when my friends and I were possessed with the website Neopets and I suddenly had to be online at all hours to play with my internet pets and gain nonexistent money. Previously, I had an email address which I would check daily, but it wasn’t until Neopets that I felt a compulsion to stay online. It slowly escalated as I grew older, from looking at interesting blogs, to getting a blog myself and updating it regularly. Social networking websites such as Facebook, Twitter, and Tumblr have kept me glued to my laptop day after day, and I just can’t help but compulsively check for updates when the internet is in reach. Hours of my day are spent checking the same websites over and over again, just because there may or may not be something new.
The art form of the internet is that it’s a completely open expression of your imagination. Have a story or plotline that just won’t get out of your mind? Join NaNoWriMo every November and there’s a whole community to support you in writing a novel in a month. Want to play games with people half a world away? Go play some Starcraft or Runescape and go on an adventure. My current addiction is Tumblr, a micro-blogging site that lets me post and reblog pictures till my heart is content. Some days, I just feel like editing pictures in Photoshop to see what I get. And by posting them on Tumblr, I get pretty instantaneous feedback. Due to the site’s easy design, it’s constantly being updated, and I feel the need to see what’s new, all day, every day.
Because of my internet addiction, I think I’ve changed my way with words, most of all. Suddenly, stories that could have taken me five minutes to tell are shortened to 140 characters or less for Twitter. On Tumblr, you can tag your posts to describe them. I’ve caught myself thinking in Tumblr tags more than once while drifting into daydreams. The world as I know it has been altered into ways I can tell my blog’s audience what’s going on, while also keeping it relevant to their interests. There are times when I wonder what my internet friends are doing or how their days are going, just because they’re my friends. Even though I haven’t met most of them in person, they still know what’s going through my head at any given point in the day because of social networking websites, which is a lot more than can be said of some of my school friends.
Some days, I wish there were an easy cure to my IAD. I wish I could be a more socially acceptable member of society. I wish the people who I’m closest to were more tangible, and I seriously wish that I could stop thinking in Twitter hashtags. But at the end of the long night, refreshing different websites, the internet makes up a huge part of me and my life. It’s the way that I get my information, and a way for me to express my creativity back to the world. It’s an outlet for my thoughts and feelings, and allows me to apply the art to my every day life.