prime Spring Issue 2016

BY THE DAILY BRUIN

SPRING 2016

ART

Performing the history of Korean “comfort women”

CULTURE

Bridging the gender gap in computer science

LIFESTYLE

City Guide: Culver City

give a

robot a fish PAGE 26

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scars of the butterfly

10 21 26 32 36

the dama(scene) cracking the gender code

40 44 46

city guide: culver city

give a robot a fish a long fall remembering him

DIY: pysanky recipe: strawberries and cream scones

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ART CULTURE LIFESTYLE

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the editors

This is it – our final issue of the year.

These past nine months have been a roller coaster of emotions, from periods of intense stress during the peak of prime’s production cycle to the deceptive calm after each issue hit newsstands. Like everyone else at the Daily Bruin, we’re students too. School, jobs and extracurricular activities got in the way more times than we would have liked, but in the end, we all worked through it.

This quarter, we wanted to finish our term as editors on a strong note. Flip through prime’s pages, and you’ll find a close encounter with the Syrian refugee crisis, as well as deeply personal stories about experiencing grief and depression. We explore technology in two ways: through the gender gap in computer science and an under-the-radar lab with a different approach to artificial intelligence. We also touch on the controversial history of one culture’s “comfort women” and a student group’s attempt to address it. Finally, we show you the best of Culver City as well as how to make Ukrainian Easter eggs and strawberries-and-cream scones with a hint of home.

Thank you for coming on this journey with us. We hope you’ll continue to carry these stories with you during your time at UCLA and beyond.

With love,



Grace Lin prime director

Aalhad Patankar prime content editor

Grace Lin [ prime director ] Aalhad Patankar [ prime content editor ] Hayley McAvoy [ prime design director ] Austin Yu [ prime photo editor ] [ writers ] Jodutt Basrawi, Lindsay Bribiescas, Jessica Chan, Natalie Green, Kelly Gu, Maryrose Kulick, Simon Zou [ photographers ] Miriam Bribiesca, Maryrose Kulick, Keila Mayberry, Zinnia Moreno, Mackenzie Possee, Aubrey Yeo [ designers ] Youngjun Park, Isabelle Roy, LeAnn Woo [ graphic artists ] Rosalind Chang, Nicole Fan [ radio contributors ] Chris Campbell Namrata Kakade [ copy chief ] Anjishnu Das [ assistant copy chief ] Hannah Brezack, Donna Tang, Derek Yen [ slot editors ]

LIFESTYLE

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Julien Brundrett [ online editor ] Vivian Zhang [ assistant online editor ] McKenna Galvin, Shannon Phu [ project managers ]

Austin Yu prime photo editor

scars of the

Butterfly WRITTEN & PHOTOS BY AUSTIN YU

O

n April 7, a sold-out crowd gathered at Royce Hall to watch the production of the 25th annual Korean Culture Night, entitled “When You Kill a Butterfly.” More than 130 students behind the production were tasked with a yearlong process of writing scripts, casting, making props, choreographing and rehearsing, which culminated in a three-hour show telling the story of “comfort women” – Korean women who were sexually enslaved by the Japanese army during World War II. Each year, KCN aims to share an aspect of Korean culture with the UCLA community.

Similar to other cultural showcases on campus, KCN brings together members of the Korean community while also inspiring students from other cultures to participate.

Hayley McAvoy prime design director

[ daily bruin ] Sam Hoff [ editor in chief ] Jeong Park [ managing editor ] Eldrin Masangkay [ digital managing editor ] [ account executives ] Khalid Alajaji, Celeste Carswell, Victoria Cohen, Shannon Griffin, Matthew Hezlep, Aliya Kamalova, Dannielle Marrihew, Casey Parks, Sarah Sanders, Sheridan Siegel, Stephanie Wong Jeremy Wildman [ business manager ] Abigail Goldman [ editorial advisor ] The Daily Bruin (ISSN 1080-5060) is published and copyrighted by the ASUCLA Communications Board. All rights are reserved.

Reprinting of any material in this publication without the written permission of the Communications Board is strictly prohibited.

The ASUCLA Communications Board fully supports the University of California’s policy on non-discrimination. The student media reserve the right to reject or modify advertising whose content discriminates on the basis of ancestry, color, national origin, race, religion, disability, age, sex or sexual orientation.

The ASUCLA Communications Board has a media grievance procedure for resolving complaints against any of its publications. For a copy of the complete procedure, contact the publications office at 118 Kerckhoff Hall. All inserts that are printed in the Daily Bruin are independently paid publications and do not reflect the views of the Editorial Board or the staff.

To request a reprint of any photo appearing in the Daily Bruin, email photo@media.ucla.edu.

@dailybruinprime | SPRING 2016

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letter from

Dear readers,

Lim, a three-year veteran of KCN, said he believed that presenting a production that moved away from the lighthearted mood of previous showcases was culturally important.

“When we are here talking about heritage and history as Korean people, you have to take the good and the bad,” Lim said. “Too often do we focus on the lighter and good part, but in reality, the opposite makes up just as much or even more.”

For Joshua Kang, director of KCN and a fourth-year political science and economics student, the cultural

significance and need to educate the UCLA community about the story of comfort women outweighed many other factors.

“This is a big, big part of our culture that has been hidden under the rug,” Kang said. “It’s like a scar that you have on your body – you don’t want to show to people, so you cover it up, right? And that’s what this was.”

With only about 40 surviving comfort women left, timeliness also dictated the executive staff’s final decision. The drive to tell the story of comfort women was fueled by the staff’s increasing desire to keep the issue from fading away.

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In previous years, KCN has told universal stories on topics such as familyhood and generational differences. The topic of comfort women proved to be one that was much more emotionally and politically charged.

In December, the Japanese government agreed to an $8.3 million settlement to surviving comfort women. The controversial issue of comfort women has put additional political strain not only on those involved, but also on the two cultures as a whole. As a result, this year’s show was challenging to produce – many people did not want to engage in the polarization that came with supporting the show.

“Even during cast auditions, people didn’t show up for the second round because people started catching on that it was about comfort women,” said Eddie Kang, assistant producer of KCN and a third-year mathematics student.

With auditions that usually draw 70 to 80 applicants each year, KCN found that many students who were at first interested in performing for the show backed out. Even members of the executive staff faced concerns from family and friends regarding their participation in the show.

“When I told my parents that I was writing a show about comfort women, my mom was super against it,” said Eric Lim, executive producer of KCN and a fourth-year economics student. “(Activists) get death threats back home, and there have been instances where they are not allowed to enter Japan, so it’s like, ‘Why do I do this when I could just make a show about a rom-com?’”

KCN is a completely crowdsponsored production and the topic drove away sponsors who had consistently donated in years past.

“If we do something like this, some sponsors don’t like to get involved,” Lim said. “We have to think not only about the artistic end, which is directly outputted onto the stage, but we also have to think about everything that is required to form this show.”

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Even weeks after the show, “When You Kill a Butterfly” faced continuous discussion and criticism over social media. Though at first taken aback and offended, KCN’s executive staff members soon realized another take on the brewing conversation.

“That’s when we knew we had made an impact. They were talking about ... the issue of comfort women,” Lim said. “We realized that people were curious about the theme, and that was our goal from the beginning of the year: to educate.”

@dailybruinprime | SPRING 2016

the DAMA(SCENE)

- da-m -’\ noun | dam a scene | \’da-m -sen, Used in reference to an important moment of insight, typically one that leads to a dramatic transformation of attitude or belief. e

e

M

WRITTEN BY JODUTT BASRAWI PHOTOS BY MACKENZIE POSSEE & AUSTIN YU

LIFESTYLE

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y phone screen displayed a call from Damascus, Syria, below a phone number that I recognized as my grandmother’s. I picked up the call and we proceeded to our regular conversational routine that we had practiced since I could speak: exchanging hellos, showering compliments on each other and asking for news.

These past few years had presented an obstacle to the routine. My grandmother, Isa’af Ali, was in the middle of the Syrian civil war.

“How is your day, nanaj?” I asked my grandma in Circassian.

“The day is going well. There is music playing outside, the tomatoes in the market were ripe and the neighbors dropped by and said hello,” my nanaj answered.

My heart began to race. Nanaj had just described some awful scenes.

Since Bashar al-Assad’s government monitored most international phone calls within Syria, my nanaj could not explicitly tell me any bad news or her worries.

Any kind of criticism – even in obscure forms – associated with the Assad government would generate fines, threats or arrests. Nanaj and I had to resort to a different set of words to describe the atrocities happening on Damascene streets. We came up with these code words during my yearly visits to Damascus prior to the civil war.

“Music playing” meant nearby bombings. The reference to ripe tomatoes meant that the food prices had dramatically risen. “Neighbors dropping by” meant that Syria’s streets were riddled with intelligence officers – known locally as the Mukhabarat – watching pedestrians’ every move.

After this description, nanaj did not describe any more bad scenes or news. She sounded like she was in good health and that she was able to afford the necessary items for her day-to-day living.

Everything seemed to be OK for the next few months. One year later, following the increasing number of bombings and gunshots as well as the imposition of arbitrary curfews, my nanaj decided that enough was enough – it was time to escape the dangerous city that had thus far been her lifelong home.

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Nanaj declared asylum in Montreal about six months ago. There, she had a support system: My aunt, uncle and cousins have lived there for many years. This past spring break, I got the chance to visit nanaj in Montreal’s suburbs and listen to her accounts face to face.

During my first morning with nanaj, she showered me with her morning blessings and jokes, raised the TV’s volume to fill the room with Arabic news surrounding Syria and concocted the greatest Syrian breakfast anyone could ask for: za’atar, hummus, olives, halloumi cheese, labneh and tea – lots of tea.

Inevitably, the topic about my nanaj escaping Damascus surfaced. That was nanaj’s first opportunity to describe to her grandson her experience of running away from her only home.

Nanaj said it took her a long time to decide to leave for good.

“I was lucky to leave early enough,” she said.

Nanaj was referring to her plans from five years ago, when she applied for a visitor’s visa to Canada with hopes of visiting her family in Montreal for a few months. One year later, her visa was approved. After a few months, her plane departed for Canada. The Syrian civil war was in progress at that time, but today’s Syrian refugee crisis had not yet materialized.

“Nowadays, there is more attention on Syrian refugees, and not all of it is good. Based off of what I see on TV, many countries and people around the world have not been friendly to them,” nanaj said.

Since the beginning of the Syrian civil war, Damascus has been one of the safest cities in Syria. In absolute terms, however, life in the city was still unbearable for many, including my grandmother.

“Before I left, the bombs got louder and louder every day. They were getting closer to my house,” nanaj said.

Even before the Syrian civil war, Damascus transformed from a convivial city into a city of fear because of the increasing presence of security personnel, military vehicles and government censorship of public spaces. An authoritarian government, initiated by former President Hafez al-Assad, facilitated totalitarian impositions across Syrian society.

Starting Jan. 1, 2015, curfews began to be enforced on Damascene denizens. Nanaj, before the curfews, was content with some lack of freedom, such as limits on freedom of the press (she was not politically or journalistically active) and freedom of assembly (she never partook in demonstrations). She said what she was and never will be content with is the lack of freedom to go wherever she wanted, whenever she wanted.

Nanaj characterized the curfew as a wall she could not climb. She could not complain to Syrian authorities about that wall, for the Syrian government often arrests individuals who share even the slightest discontent toward the government.

“It may sound silly, but I never want authorities to tell me when to return to my house,” nanaj said. For her, the curfew was the final straw, especially when it was enforced during the first few days of 2015.

My nanaj departed for Canada from Beirut, a city in which more than one out of every three individuals is Syrian. Many Syrians trying to escape frequently experience delays, security threats from nearby militias and other risks – including interrogation from airport authorities – at Damascus’ airport.

My uncle, Mohammad Mousa, is a Syrian refugee who left for Sweden before his mother, my nanaj, escaped to Canada. He said both he and nanaj left from Beirut’s airport instead of Damascus’ airport because the latter’s airport – and the roads leading to it – were dangerous and often targeted by various militant factions.

which turned those cars toward the black market.

Anyone who was found to host and ride among these illegal car-hire transactions in Syria would be guaranteed an arrest and long jail time.

“It’s a journey of chance and luck,” my uncle said.

The final obstacle from the Levant to Canada was the airport itself. She faced no questions from passport officials before she made it to the terminal, since she simply had a round-trip plane ticket between Beirut and Montreal.

Not everybody was so lucky, however, as young Syrian travelers heading to either Europe or North America were often checked, through questions or their physical belongings, to see whether they sought to leave Syria for good.

“I felt slightly numb at the airport,” nanaj said. “I had been through so many thoughts. It was hard to get used to.”

Once her aircraft took off, it was over. No more risk of interrogation, baggage checks, immigration procedures or phone calls from Syrian government personnel. Nanaj was about to go through the longest plane ride she would ever experience.

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leaving

But the paths to Beirut were not easy to traverse either.

Nanaj’s journey involved five hours in a car amid thick traffic from Damascus to Beirut.

During those hours, she directly faced Syrian and Lebanese soldiers as well as chances of encountering gunfire. Bribes for the soldiers were commonplace and often required, and traveling at night was also discouraged. Although nanaj never mentioned whether she bribed officials, many other travelers often had to pay the price. The Syrian-Lebanese border had been further outfitted with more border personnel and checkpoints to ensure Syrians were not leaving to Lebanon for good.

“The checkpoints were nerve-wracking,” nanaj said.

“Thankfully, I was not asked about where I was going or what I was doing going into Lebanon. They left me alone after I showed them my plane ticket.”

Nanaj had to hire an expensive car to make her way to Beirut’s airport. Demand and prices for these cars grew with time as more and more Syrians fled to Lebanon.

The Syrian government discouraged the hiring of cars not affiliated with a government-controlled car service,

@dailybruinprime | SPRING 2016

“Whenever you can, Jodutt, teach me,” she said.

“I need help figuring out the English washing machines here!”

My grandmother’s current studio apartment in Montreal is situated across the street from a pizzeria, a dollar store and an elementary school.

She has now found comfort in the familiarity of the area.

“Every afternoon, I watch the kids walk over to the pizzeria and the dollar store. It reminds me of the children in Damascus wandering around the city at noontime. Many of those kids are going to be tomorrow’s leaders,” nanaj said.

Her apartment is about the size of a standard UCLA dorm room with an additional bathroom.

Upon stepping foot into the studio, the bathroom is to the right, and the closet is to the left. Two steps later, the kitchen – big enough for only one person to work in – is to the right. From that one position, I could see nanaj’s futon, small dinner table, TV atop a set of drawers and bed. Basically, nanaj moved from a Damascene house to a room on Somerled Avenue.

There are many contrasts between nanaj’s way of living in Canada and her former lifestyle in Syria.

In Syria, she said she used to walk up and down Damascene hills more easily than the young folks.

She used to mingle with all of her Damascene neighbors with ease and authenticity. She used to host dozens of people almost every day in her famously hospitable living room, where guests were served unlimited amounts of sweets and exposed to nanaj’s handcrafted candle scents.

Today, in Canada, nanaj rarely has guests over at her studio apartment. She does not make those candle scents anymore. She now takes daily medication for diabetes.

isa’af ali, jodutt’s nanaj

a changing political landscape About half a year after nanaj’s arrival in Canada, Stephen Harper, Canada’s former prime minister, was replaced by the more left-leaning Justin Trudeau, son of former Prime Minister Pierre Trudeau. Like his father, Justin Trudeau pledged better treatment of refugees relative to his predecessor.

When nanaj realized what was supposed to be an extended visit for pleasure had turned into a visit for life as Syria continued to crumble into war, financial assistance from Trudeau’s government helped her relocate to her current studio apartment.

Upon nanaj’s arrival to Canada in early 2015, Harper was prime minister of Canada. Harper faced a smaller demand from Syrian refugees wishing to live in Canada, yet he obtained a harsh reputation against immigration after he proposed criteria – known as areas of focus – that would favor granting immigration only to certain refugees based off of specific skills, such as fluency in English and/or French. At a glance, nanaj would have not fulfilled such criteria.

In Trudeau’s first few weeks as prime minister, however,

he announced the Canadian government’s pledge to resettle 25,000 Syrian refugees. Since the pledge, nanaj is one of more than 26,000 Syrian refugees who now call Canada home.

Under Trudeau’s administration, Canadian institutions garnered support from the United Nations and Canadian citizens to institutionalize services for Syrian refugees within its borders. The World University Service of Canada, for instance, is spearheading a ballot measure among Canadian universities’ student governments to help house more Syrian refugee students in Canada.

Ishimwe Robbie, a Rwandan student at Montreal’s McGill University who works for the World University Service of Canada, said he is leading one such referendum that would charge McGill students $3 per semester to support scholarships for Syrian refugees enrolling in the university.

As of April 30, the university voted yes on the referendum that Robbie advocated for. About 10 Syrian refugee students will be sponsored for McGill degree programs starting next year.

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a new home

Nanaj landed in Montreal on a wintery afternoon.

At the airport, she quickly retrieved her luggage and hurried toward the airport’s arrival lobby. She did not care about anything else; she simply wanted to make it to her family safe and sound.

Nanaj walked outside Montréal-Pierre Elliott Trudeau International Airport to wait for her daughter – my aunt – to pick her up. The cold of Canada’s winter, characterized by leafless trees, frosted cars and icy sidewalks, struck my grandmother in the face.

Besides dealing with the different weather, she had to face another kind of new climate: Quebecois culture.

“Damascus is the only home I know,” my nanaj said. “It is hard for me to consider this place as my home. I don’t know what to do here in Montreal most of the time.”

Nanaj lived with some patience during the weeks in which she expected to return to a peaceful Syria.

The solace transformed into paranoia and insecurity with time. She was afraid of people judging her as a foreigner, and she worried about her dependence on her Montreal family and whether she was hindering their daily lives.

Syria’s civil war worsened, and nanaj had to stay with family for more and more weeks. She soon could not handle staying in the same household as her daughter, son-in-law and grandkids.

“I don’t like interfering with other people’s schedules,” nanaj said. “I prefer to have my own zones and sometimes prefer a quiet morning by myself.”

She grew more worried about her inability to assimilate into Canadian society. She craved the independent lifestyle that she had practiced for most of her life along Damascus’ cobblestone streets.

@dailybruinprime | SPRING 2016

Otherwise, these refugee students would have few other resources to turn to to fulfill their dreams of moving to Canada or the United States.

Zyngier and his group constructed the tutoring program to cater to the rising demands for TOEFL tutoring among Syrian refugees in high school. The group eventually ended up on Canadian national television as a result of the social impact of its efforts. More than 15 refugee students in the program will take English entrance exams to Canadian universities within the next year. Dozens more will take part in the program as it continues to grow.

Phoebe Colby, one of the founding students of the group, said the organization is planning to continue the tutoring program with help from McGill’s education department and that its crowdfunding campaign will enable the group to expand the program to other universities. The group has raised about $4,600 in two months.

These students have provided instruction in basic English, professional skills and other areas to prepare refugees for academic and professional exams. They have filled a void by providing these educational services that are otherwise missing in initiatives by government institutions, charity organizations and academic personnel. Since the start of the program, more than 15 McGill students have tutored more than 30 student refugees.

Zyngier said his first experience with tutoring was with two students preparing for the TOEFL. One of the students was 21 years old. Zyngier added he expected the students to be younger, since the refugee demographics he saw on media outlets often depicted young children moving across borders.

“In the end, their age did not matter,” Zyngier said.

“We laughed together, learned together and planned our futures together.”

The next morning after a big breakfast, nanaj shooed me off again at 9 a.m. It was time for the second event at McGill’s student union: the Syrian Students’ Association’s “Clothing Drive for Syrian Refugees.”

I arrived 30 minutes late to the union building (I want to blame nanaj for that, but her cheese that morning was too good to leave). Tables were already set up, bags of clothes were already in place and students were behind tables cataloging recently arrived clothes. The big things had seemingly already happened.

With guilt, I approached the tables and asked whether I should stick around and help out. I was told to come back later in the afternoon to assist with post-drive cataloging and transferring of the clothes to trucks.

Thankfully, I met Yara Hammami, the president of

“

but what stands out is the amount of support Canadians have projected through their letters and offerings.

- yara hammami

CULTURE

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As I woke up in nanaj’s apartment one morning, my cellphone screen shone brightly with a Facebook notification reminding me about a fundraising event that would take place at one of McGill’s dormitories. The host of the event was a group I had never heard of before: Students for Syria.

Nanaj knew I had signed up to attend that event. She shooed me off, and I soon found myself walking through Canadian snow toward the Villa-Maria train station in order to meet a group of people from Students for Syria.

Comprised of first- and second-year McGill students, Students for Syria is an organization that developed one of Canada’s first few Syrian refugee tutoring programs.

Through its work, refugees like my nanaj can use the tutoring to help understand Canadian culture, the English language and Canadian bureaucracy.

I arrived at the designated dormitory lounge early and was met by large oil paintings of notable McGill personalities, a student cellist setting the lounge’s vibe, the smell of candle wax and Victorian furniture. This was nothing like UCLA’s Rieber Fireside lounges.

I sought out the organizers to ask how the organization came to be and how they were pulling it all off.

Anton Zyngier, a first-year student and founder of Students for Syria, said the group first started through a freshmen-only project facilitated by McGill faculty.

At first, Zyngier’s group thought about solving problems associated with gentrification or homelessness.

When some of the group members shared their reactions to a viral photograph of Aylan Kurdi – a Syrian toddler whose dead body washed up on Turkey’s shores – the group concluded that it wanted to work on Syrian social issues.

Zyngier said the idea of the tutoring program gained traction after the group discovered a dilemma in the Al Salam School, an educational institution for refugee children in Turkey. The school was losing its volunteer Test of English as a Foreign Language teachers. If nothing were to be done about the departure of these teachers, there would be no resources for college-bound refugees applying to North American universities. There would, essentially, be a TOEFL vacuum.

“So our group ended up thinking, ‘Why not fill in this vacuum?’” Zyngier said.

Most of the Syrian students taking part in the tutoring program are Skyping McGill students like Zyngier from various locations in Turkey. Zyngier added that one of the students in the program Skypes from Syria.

“I do not know how the student in Syria pulls it off, especially in light of the war there,” Zyngier said.

Now, Syrian refugee students in Turkey use the tutoring program to prepare for the TOEFL exam.

University’s Syrian students’ associations – Concordia is a 20-minute walk from McGill’s campus – are burgeoning.

“One of my favorite memories was seeing 700 McGill students fill up a lecture hall to watch a panel discussion about the refugee crisis,” Hammami said. On Concordia’s side, its Syrian Students’ Association has revealed recent plans for opening a college-based refugee resource center.

When I came back later in the afternoon, the clothing drive went on longer than anticipated; students of all backgrounds were still dropping off brand-new clothing and well-maintained used clothes. People donated more than 150 garments. The clothing drive ended up being six hours long.

“

volunteering in montreal

McGill’s Syrian Students’ Association, who told me about her endeavor to unite people behind Syria’s humanitarian crisis.

“Hundreds of emails about our group’s events come into my inbox every day,” she said. “Some say good, some are bigoted. But what stands out is the amount of support Canadians have projected through their letters and offerings. Those with a driver’s license want to offer rides and help with moving furniture. Those with backgrounds in languages want to offer free tutoring classes. The list goes on.”

Hammami is within the center of a broad spotlight on the Syrian refugee crisis. Both McGill’s and Concordia

@dailybruinprime | SPRING 2016

flying home and back again this year willing to dedicate time to developing the commemoration. I myself had no time to handle the event on my own.”

With UCLA’s handful of existing Arab-interest and refugee-related student groups, difficulties abound when trying to mobilize the student body to help alleviate the Syrian refugee crisis, the biggest contributor to the world’s refugee crisis. There are more than 4.5 million Syrian refugees worldwide, according to Amnesty International.

To put that into numbers: There are more than 50 million refugees worldwide.

I woke up groggy-eyed. It was 5 a.m., and my flight back to Los Angeles from Montreal was set to depart in three hours. The sun was not up yet, and Montreal’s cold morning air preserved snowflakes across nanaj’s apartment windows. Nanaj woke up with ease and prepared the last great breakfast I would have in her company – with lots of tea involved, of course.

Nanaj and I exchanged laughs and sleepy smiles.

Surprisingly, she was not too sad about my departure.

“It’s not like in Damascus, Jodutt, where I

cried each time you left following your visits,” nanaj said. “In Damascus, I worried if I would ever see you again. I worried that you would not come by for years at a time. Now, you are a grown man with the ability to come here anytime you want. I’ll be around for you any time and any day – and knowing you, I’ll see you very soon.”

It was funny – I was more sad to leave nanaj than she was to see me leaving. Nonetheless, I heeded her words.

I aim to visit her again soon.

many of those kids are going to be tomorrow’s leaders.

“

- nanaj

jodutt basrawi, fourth-year engineering geology student

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a different CULTURE

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One of the attendees at the Students for Syria kickoff struck me with a comment that summarized the thoughts that possessed me upon returning to Los Angeles.

“It looks like people barely know how to help in Los Angeles. I do not hear much about what they’re doing about world affairs over there,” said Tony Mistak, a student at McGill. “Angels help people, right?”

Not only does UCLA have fewer institutions dedicated to helping Syrian refugees, but most of the student body also does not possess the enthusiasm to address the Syrian refugee crisis to its fullest capability.

Meymuna Hussein-Cattan is the executive director of the Tiyya Foundation, a nonprofit organization dedicated to providing basic necessities for refugees in the greater Los Angeles area. She was at UCLA as a panelist May 10.

“UCLA has the resources, but its students are not capitalizing on them to be a benefactor toward refugees in California,” Hussein-Cattan said. “I hope to see more from UCLA Bruins in the near future.”

Natalie Khoury, a fourth-year English and Spanish student at UCLA, said that current student chapters of Amnesty International and American Red Cross do discuss the Syrian refugee crisis, yet their efforts and campaigns are too broad to address the crisis directly and effectively. Khoury added that the student organization Fresh START seeks to be UCLA’s primary resource for fellow students to learn about and help Syrian refugees.

“Given the lack of a refugee-minded landscape on campus, I founded Fresh START at UCLA, an organization that focuses on refugee awareness and refugee volunteership,” Khoury said. “However, we do face some challenges stemming from the dearth in student attention toward the refugee crisis.”

For the first time since the beginning of the Syrian civil war, its anniversary was not commemorated at UCLA by any student group.

Sarah Altoukhy, a fourth-year computer science and linguistics student at UCLA and president of the United Arab Society, attributed the missing commemoration to the lack of resources at the hands of the student group, which had hosted the commemoration since 2011 but failed to host the commemoration this year.

“It was hard to handle the demands associated with the Arab Culture Show alongside preparations for the Syrian Revolution commemoration,” Altoukhy said. “Unlike past years, there was not enough drive by most United Arab Society members to invest in developing commemoration events for the Syrian Revolution’s anniversary. We had less people on board

“

view

@dailybruinprime | SPRING 2016

CRACKING

gender THE CODE WRITTEN BY KELLY GU PHOTOS BY MIRIAM

F

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or some, a black screen on their laptops is a form of communication.

Their fingers fly across the keyboard as they compile a series of blue, green and red letters and numbers, stacking one statement on top of the other, until they’ve managed to bridge the language barrier between human and machine.

But one small error – an additional space, comma or colon – could render it gibberish.

As the tech industry continues to expand and boast promising job opportunities, coding – a skill formerly perceived to be known only by an exclusive club of hackers and programmers – is now becoming a second language.

But as booming tech companies draw immense crowds of prospective employees, a disparity has also begun to emerge.

According to data published by the National Center for Women and Information Technology, only 25 percent of professional computing occupations in the U.S. workforce were held by women in 2015.

Google’s 2015 diversity report stated that only 18 percent

of its technical jobs are held by women, while Facebook’s 2015 diversity report reported that women in the company hold 16 percent of its technical jobs.

With the gender gap in tech occupations already a prime topic for debate, it would seem that the push for diversity would encourage women to pursue computer science in schools and universities across the country. In actuality, the percentage of women who received bachelor’s degrees in computer science at major research universities dropped from 37 percent in 1985 to 15 percent in 2014, according to NCWIT. This disparity is troubling to women and tech companies alike, including Intel, where CEO Brian Krzanich described diversity as fundamental for innovation. Without diversity in both gender and ethnicity, homogeneous populations amount to a one-sided conversation.

In highly populated cities like Los Angeles, resistance against the gender gap is taking form, both on college campuses and in the workplace.

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BRIBIESCA & AUSTIN YU

@dailybruinprime | SPRING 2016

Eight months ago, Apurva Panse, a second-year computer science student, took a flight to Houston where thousands of female technologists gathered from all corners of the world for the annual Grace Hopper Celebration of Women in Computing.

As one of the first programmers in computer history, former U.S. Navy Admiral Grace Hopper continues to inspire waves of women to close the gender gap. Since attending the conference, Panse said she has resolved to speak up and empower girls to enter the tech industry.

“The goal is to eliminate the frat culture of technology,” Panse said. “I was wondering if my ignorance was part of the problem. If I were just to be scared and let that fear deter me, I would not be part of the solution.”

Drawn to the dynamic nature and instant gratification of coding, Panse said she switched from economics to computer science shortly after her first quarter at UCLA. “The unlimited ways you can get involved in computer science is an indication of its creativity. It can be used in almost all student organizations on campus, and it can go where you want it to go,” Panse said.

In February, Panse and her team developed a virtual reality application to combat the fear of public speaking, and took home awards for “best hack a team should keep building post-TreeHacks” and “most polished” at TreeHacks, a Stanford University hackathon. Panse also joined Daily Bruin Developers this year to work on the newspaper’s website design.

However, Panse said the creativity that computer science inspires is often overshadowed by the glaring lack of diversity in the field.

“Computer science classrooms can be really isolating,” Panse said. “There’s not a lot of diversity in computer science at UCLA, both genderwise and ethnically.”

According to a self-review report by the UCLA computer science department, 111 undergraduate students came in as computer science and computer science and engineering students in the fall of 2014. Twenty, or about 18 percent, were women.

“It wasn’t other people’s perception – it was my own,” Panse said. “My own perception made me feel isolated.

I don’t see anyone in this room that looks like me and connects with me.”

Panse said her classmates are mostly white or Asian males, and many of them have been coding for years.

“Many of (my classmates) have been coding for so long,” Panse said. “It was hard for me to feel like I was at their level.”

Seeking a support system, Panse joined the UCLA Association for Computing Machinery in the winter of her first year, and later assumed the position of community outreach for the Association for Computing Machinery – Women.

Sharon Grewal, a third-year computer science student and next year’s ACM-W president, had no knowledge or background in computer science until stepping on campus.

“I had no opportunity to learn how to code in high school,” Grewal said. “A lot of people back home were surprised when I said I was studying computer science,

“MY OWN PERCEPTION MADE ME FEEL ISOLATED. I DON’T SEE ANYONE IN THIS ROOM THAT LOOKS LIKE ME AND CONNECTS WITH ME.” and it was a very new environment for me.”

Grewal said that she was inspired by the problemsolving aspect of computer science, but felt out of place in discussion sections where her peers would ask advanced questions.

“I felt really unsure if I was supposed to be there,” Grewal said. “And I felt like asking my questions wouldn’t be helpful for everyone else.”

David Smallberg, a lecturer in the computer science department, teaches two of the introductory computer science courses at UCLA. “I remember in the early 1980s, personal computers were marketed for boys,” Smallberg said. “If there ever was a personal computer in the household, it was in the boy’s room. There became a perception that it was a male thing, not a female thing.”

Smallberg said that women currently comprise about 20 percent of his classes.

“The fact is you’re all solving problems,” Smallberg said. “There’s no difference performancewise, but there’s a difference confidencewise.”

This difference in confidence is thought to be an effect of the impostor syndrome, a behavioral pattern studied in the 1970s by clinical psychologists Pauline Clance and Suzanne Imes. The study described interviews with more than 150 women who were highly successful in their fields, and found that these women, despite being perfectly capable in terms of their career, were often more susceptible to the feeling of self-doubt than men were.

They reported a lack of an inner sense of success and often felt they needed to work twice as hard to catch up to their male counterparts. Within a greatly underrepresented community like computer science, those feelings may be exacerbated.

Impostor syndrome or not, both Grewal and Panse said they found female mentors and a passion for teaching through ACM-W.

“I teach because I want to make (computer science) more accessible,” Grewal said. “A lot of my North Campus and female friends think it’s a subject they would never understand, but it’s only difficult because they haven’t been taught how to approach it yet.”

Grewal said she hopes to provide an ACM-W equivalent for the graduate programs, where the gender gap is even more visible. Grewal also said she heavily believes in male allies.

“It’s not just women for women – everyone should be promoting women in tech,” Grewal said. “Software in general was meant for the world. If tech companies want to reflect that, both men and women need to make sure the people making the software are as diverse as the world is.”

As part of her own fight against the lack of diversity in the classroom, Panse teaches coding to high schoolers at Santa Monica High School every other week, middle schoolers at The Coding School every Friday morning and younger girls at Girls Who Code every Thursday afternoon.

“I believe it’s a big disservice to students nationwide that computer science isn’t taught in the classroom,” Panse said. “If we aren’t teaching all young kids how to code, they’re missing this giant, technical skill, and girls won’t feel like they belong when they do decide to pursue (computer science).”

On a Thursday afternoon, Auden Koetters, a sixthgrade student at Lincoln Middle School in Santa Monica, stood at the whiteboard in a classroom, carefully writing out “If choice == beach ... ” while Panse explained the concepts behind the code.

Seven other girls sat at their desktop computers, their eyes following the long list of coding tips as they scrolled for an answer. It was after-school hours, and their voices echoed in the empty halls. A poster hung at the front of the computer lab read “Girls Who Code,” the letters surrounded by student names scribbled in different colors.

Tsering Wolfe, a seventh-grade student at Lincoln Middle School, said her ability to fix computer problems for her dad prompted her to join Girls Who Code.

“I talked to my dad about it, and he wanted me to learn,” Tsering said. “I like problem solving, and I want to major in computer science.”

Tsering and the other girls use Codesters, an online program that teaches Python, a programming language, through individual projects and simulations.

Koetters returned to her seat and continued to type, instructing a penguin to jump on her screen.

“I’ve been around guys my whole life, and I’ve always done what I’ve wanted to do,” said Auden, who has two older brothers. “I really like digital design, and I want to become either an architect or a genetic mutation scientist.”

Katherine Furlong, a sixth-grade student at John Adams Middle School in Santa Monica, raised her

= MALE

= FEMALE

COMPUTER SCIENCE PROGRAM AT UCLA, 2013

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433 NEW TO CS IN FALL 2013

16

56

8

52

STUDENTS

FACEBOOK (2015) 16% ALL EMPLOYEES

68%

TECH EMPLOYEES

84%

GOOGLE 30%

(2015)

18% ALL EMPLOYEES

70%

STUDENTS

NEW TO CS IN FALL 2014

FEMALE

32%

FEMALE

TECH EMPLOYEES

82%

SOURCE: UCLA ENGINEERING COMPUTER SCIENCE SELF-REVIEW, FACEBOOK NEWSROOM, GOOGLE DIVERSITY. GRAPHIC BY ROSALIND CHANG, ASSISTANT GRAPHICS EDITOR.

FEMALE STUDENTS

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Natalie MacLees, co-founder of the Los Angeles

chapter of Girl Develop It, stood at the front of the room with her laptop, pointing to the screen displaying her string of code and explaining how to fetch a video using JavaScript Object Notation, a data interchange format.

The national organization Girl Develop It began as a class in New York City, aiming to encourage women to learn coding and help them enter the tech industry equipped with the skills they need. The one-time class soon expanded to multiple chapters across the country.

The chapter in Los Angeles was founded in January 2014 and currently has about 1,900 active members.

Originally an environmental science student at the University of North Carolina at Wilmington, MacLees started building websites as a hobby during her last year of college.

“The web in 1996 was not much of a competition,” MacLees said with a laugh. “I just thought it was fun, like a huge puzzle.”

After picking up a part-time job at a shoe store, MacLees built a website for the store. She coded without charge and helped friends and family with their businesses.

“It didn’t occur to me for a while that I should build websites for a career,” MacLees said. “I always thought I wasn’t good enough yet.”

MacLees said she finally overcame her own doubt when she realized she could outcode a friend who was employed at a startup.

MacLees went on to build the web application that organized all the contractors working at the Ronald Reagan UCLA Medical Center. She also worked on website development for PlayStation and e-book projects at Sony.

Four years ago, MacLees decided she had waited long enough to take the leap into self-employment.

“I’m just tired of being the only woman in the team or even the entire company,” MacLees said. “Which has been the case at every job I’ve had.”

Now, she helps teach accountants, entrepreneurs, pastry chefs, administrative assistants and many others how to code and take their skills into their respective workplaces.

MacLees said she aims to create an environment where they won’t be the only women in the room.

In a downtown Los Angeles mentoring workshop led by MacLees, a diverse group of women of different ethnicities and ages were scattered on chairs and couches, recounting their struggles with entering the coding world.

“If there are 12 or 13 other women in the room, you aren’t afraid to ask questions anymore,” MacLees said.

“Lessons are more productive and people get their answers.”

As the women split into mentoring groups, some women said they were looking to build their company an application or website. A few said they were looking to start their own companies, while others said they wanted to start over with a new career in technology.

“Coding tutorials online assume a baseline knowledge,

and a lot of people don’t have that,” MacLees said. “They really struggle to figure out where to start, so I want to take people who have never written code before and get them in front of a computer.”

Girl Develop It holds workshops every week to teach different coding languages, such as HTML and JavaScript, to all those who are interested. Two mentors – professionals who attend the workshops and classes to give advice to novices – are normally present with MacLees.

“There are a ton of programs teaching girls and teens to code, which is amazing,” MacLees said. “But we don’t want to leave out everyone else. Those programs didn’t exist when these women were in high school, and we want to effect change in the tech industry now.”

MacLees said her own trek to her position as a web developer has not been the smoothest.

“I feel like almost every woman working in tech has at least one story where she has to put up with something ridiculous,” MacLees said. “It might completely turn (her) away from it.”

MacLees’ own story ended with her and another woman losing their jobs based on a report by one employee stating that he did not like working with women, MacLees said.

MacLees said this kind of extreme experience tends to be rare, however.

“For most women, it’s more like getting 10,000 paper cuts,” said MacLees, referring to the microaggressions – actions that are subtly harmful to members of a marginalized group – that she has faced throughout her tech career. “There might not be something big and overt, but (it may be) a lot of little backhanded compliments.”

These “paper cuts” can start wearing people down, MacLees said, as girls are constantly asked to prove themselves. MacLees said men at conferences have asked her

in disbelief if she wrote a certain piece of code, or if she was there with her boyfriend.

MacLees currently teaches HTML, CSS and JavaScript.

She said she also plans on learning Ruby and Python.

“I have a really stubborn personality, and there’s nothing more encouraging than people telling me I can’t,” MacLees said.

Since Girl Develop It aims to be gender inclusive, a few men also show up at the JavaScript classes Saturdays.

Mark Coston, a previous Flash programmer, heard about the program through a networking group called Learn to Code LA. “My work went away when Flash went obsolete,” Coston said. “I want to rehabilitate my skills to stay in the field.”

Coston said he joined the tech industry in the late 1990s, and noticed the continuing underrepresentation of women as well as black and Latina/o coders.

“People are starting to wonder why certain groups aren’t doing certain jobs,” Coston said. “It shouldn’t be weird that I’m a black coder. Just like there shouldn’t need to be a Girl Develop It, but I’m glad there is.”

Coston said there tends to be an ego battle among guys when they get together to code, creating an environment that can be hard to learn in.

“A lot of my students say, ‘I don’t know enough, I’m not good enough yet, I have to keep learning before I can even apply for a job,’ and so on,” MacLees said. “It’s not that your skill isn’t there – it’s that the confidence in your skill isn’t there.”

MacLees said that although the impostor syndrome may be real, the reason for it is not.

“Let’s stop asking if she’s there with her boyfriend at conferences,” MacLees said. “And start asking what language she codes in instead.”

“THERE SHOULDN’T NEED TO BE A ‘GIRL DEVELOP IT,’ BUT I’M GLAD THERE IS.”

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hand to ask about the loop function she was using.

“I found out I have a passion for building and designing in fourth grade,” Katherine said. “I want to help build and code life-saving robots that can be used in emergency situations.”

Boasting confidence and enthusiasm, most of the girls had interests in technology and dreams of attending the Massachusetts Institute of Technology long before their coding classes began.

Others were more reluctant in the beginning.

“At first, I didn’t want to do it because I didn’t know anyone who’s a computer science major and a girl,” said Summer Bennett Stein, a sixth-grade student at John Adams Middle School. “But Apurva was the first one and she’s teaching us how to build websites, which can be really useful when I become a lawyer.”

Seeing the positive impact she has on these girls, Panse said she hopes to teach as a career and eventually work at an education tech company, such as Khan Academy, or become a professor in computer science.

“I like to emphasize that whatever a computer does, it’s because of you,” said Panse, after explaining how it was not uncommon for people to think she was kidding when she showed them a new app she created. “It’s about showing the girls how creative they can be, and then they realize that they did it themselves.”

Jordyn Feldman, a sixth-grade student at Lincoln Middle School, takes this creativity in coding to her school’s robotics team.

“There are actually more girls than guys in robotics club,” said Jordyn, looking up from underneath a “Star Wars” BB-8 cap. “I sometimes work on the Wallaby, which stores all of our code and tells the robot what to do.”

In her club, Jordyn helps fix the JavaScript code that commands a lifter to perform certain tasks for an upcoming competition centered around the robotics in the movie “The Martian.”

Ireland Neville, an eighth-grade student on the robotics team, works with Jordyn to develop the code and fix any bugs.

“Coding classes here still have a majority of guys,” Ireland said. “But when you can help each other program something to life, I don’t see why gender matters.”

Programs like Girls Who Code are relatively new, founded in the 2010s and provided only for those under the age of 18.

“I want to use 3-D printing as a software engineer,” said Kennedy Brown, a sixth-grade student at Lincoln Middle School. “And in the future, I hope there will be more girls.”

With diversity requirements and policies popping up across the country, many are hoping exactly that in the future. However, only 17 miles from Lincoln Middle School, in a small, open workspace tucked away in downtown Little Tokyo, adult women are already changing the game.

@dailybruinprime | SPRING 2016

give a robot a fish sign on a door located on the ninth floor of UCLA’s Boelter Hall reads, “Beware of Robot.” Inside, stationed at the center of the room, is Tony. He stands more than 5 feet tall with a black torso, dark red rolling base, two large arms, an Internet router on his back and an Xbox One Kinect mounted on his head.

Assembled part by part over the past year and costing more than $60,000, Tony has been programmed to open doors, fold clothes and assemble furniture.

Surrounding him is a team of researchers who aim to eventually give him humanlevel cognition.

It’s an ambitious goal, but the UCLA Center for Vision, Cognition, Learning and Autonomy, or VCLA, where Tony lives, specializes in the intersection of cognition, artificial intelligence and vision. Over the years, the lab has received millions of dollars in research grants to develop intelligent computer systems that learn the way humans do.

Not everyone shares the lab’s enthusiasm for creating advanced artificial intelligence.

SpaceX and Tesla Motors founder Elon Musk views AI as the biggest existential threat to humanity’s existence. Physicist Stephen Hawking said it could spell the end of the human race. Microsoft founder Bill Gates said he agrees with Musk and doesn’t understand why some people aren’t concerned. But despite this cautioning,

PHOTOS BY AUSTIN YU Microsoft has business incentives to do heavy research in AI, and Musk funds AI research as a means of self-defense.

The field of AI makes strides each year, and with each high-profile milestone, it brings about a new wave of fear and anxiety – Deep Blue beating world chess champion Garry Kasparov in 1996, Watson beating Jeopardy! record-holder Ken Jennings in 2011 and, most recently, AlphaGo beating professional Go player and world champion Lee Sedol in 2016.

Other scientists are less concerned, such as Stanford University computer science associate professor and leading researcher Andrew Ng, known for his work at Google and the online learning platform Coursera.

He has been famously quoted saying that worrying about killer AI is like worrying about overpopulation on Mars. In other words, it might be a problem someday, but it’s too far off to think about realistically.

In terms of developing intelligent robots, fellow Stanford associate professor FeiFei Li said, “We are closer to a washing machine than a Terminator.” Oren Etzioni, CEO of the Allen Institute of Artificial Intelligence, dispelled the notion that mastering even a complex game like Go was a harbinger of hyperintelligent AI, noting that AlphaGo can’t play chess.

While high-profile AIs can be trained to do one task well, they aren’t yet capable of taking on different tasks.

CULTURE

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WRITTEN BY SIMON ZOU

@dailybruinprime | SPRING 2016

One of the current major trends in AI involves using massive amounts of data and a technique called “deep learning.” This term has become a buzzword in the industry and fuels some of the recent advances in AI, including AlphaGo, and powers a number of popular technologies, from Google’s search algorithms to Facebook’s news feed.

Deep learning and machine learning algorithms rely on having lots of data. Feed an algorithm millions of examples, and it can train a computer system to do certain tasks, such as classifying images or playing games like chess. Deep learning was inspired by neurons in the human brain and is alternatively known as “neural networks.” But Song-Chun Zhu, director of VCLA and professor of statistics and computer science, argued that there are several limitations to this approach.

“Current machine learning is based on a certain model that is very much like a black box,” Zhu said. “Most people don’t understand why it works. If you read the papers, they can’t explain it.”

Deep learning models only work with massive amounts of data and don’t work with a small number of examples, Zhu said. Additionally, a deep learning system trained in one task cannot generalize well to new tasks. While it can produce accurate results, the system can’t reason how it came up with the result.

Due to this inability to adapt, Zhu argued that learning from big data is not natural intelligence like humans have.

“Humans use small data. We only use a few examples and then we got it,” Zhu said. “It’s a mystery how we learn from (a small amount of) data or sometimes even zero data.”

figure 2 body parsing

full body

pursuing natural intelligence

attribute parsing gender

female male

age

upper body gender age length

...

type

...

keypoint localization & pose estimation

color

head

female male

gender age hair-style

...

input image

glasses

no yes

Zhu’s lab seeks an alternative approach to building intelligence. The group uses neural networks as well, but the primary technique that the lab employs borrows from another field of AI – natural language processing or NLP – which aims to train computers to understand human text and language.

This approach is analogous to how grammar is often taught. In grade school, students are taught to identify parts of a sentence (e.g. noun, verb, verb phrase, etc.) and create sentence diagrams, like in Figure 1.

NLP is concerned with doing this automatically with computer programs, a process called “parsing.” The generated sentence diagram is called a “parse tree.” If the computer understands the rules of how sentences are composed (i.e., grammar), then it can attempt to parse

the sentence.

VCLA’s approach to computer vision is to define a visual grammar and to parse images and videos with it.

Figure 2 is an example image and a possible parse tree.

Parsing scenes and images in this way is central to the lab’s approach, reflected in VCLA’s logo: a diagram of a parse tree. Deep learning, with help from a large data set, could similarly label what is in the picture and what is going on, but the lab’s image-parsing technique encodes more information about the relationships between the entities, such as spectators and players in a soccer game. In theory, the image parsing appears better for understanding the scene, but what about in practice?

last one standing

In 2011, VCLA’s image-parsing approach was put in direct competition with deep learning. Defense Advanced Research Projects Agency, or DARPA, an agency within the U.S. Department of Defense responsible for funding scientific research, issued a challenge under its Mathematics of Sensing, Exploitation and Execution, or MSEE, program.

The task was to analyze several hours of video shot from different cameras and create a system that could answer human questions, such as “What are people doing?” and “How many people are standing at this time?”

DARPA accepted proposals from nine teams consisting of researchers from various universities, such as Carnegie Mellon University, UC Berkeley and Massachusetts Institute of Technology. Teams received grants of up to $6.23 million and were given four years to deliver said system.

By the end, only VCLA remained in the competition and was able to successfully deliver on its proposal, while the others either were disqualified by DARPA for not meeting deadlines or dropped out voluntarily because the task proved too difficult.

The challenge in some ways illustrates a paradox in AI and computer science. What’s hard for computers to do is easy for humans, and what’s easy for humans is hard for computers. Identifying what people are doing in a video is an easy task even for a child; getting a computer to do it is an incredibly hard problem. A person who can multiply large numbers rapidly in their head might be considered a math genius, while a computer doing the same thing is just serving a basic function. And tasks intuitive to humans, such as common sense reasoning about physical properties of the world (e.g. “If I tilt this table, the cup of water on it may spill”) and being able to recognize intent from action (e.g. “She walked to the fridge because she was hungry”) are still problems yet to be solved by computers.

VCLA’s mission is to resolve these difficult problems through a unified, mathematically sound theory for all aspects of human intelligence, including reasoning and learning, that it can use to build intelligent systems.

“He is really the main person right now in the world who is expanding the ideas of computer vision to try to encompass the serious issues of interactions with artificial intelligence,” said David Mumford, a Fields Medal recipient and Zhu’s doctoral adviser from his time at Harvard University.

Gang Hua, a computer vision scientist at Microsoft Research, said he has been following Zhu’s work for years, and has been particularly impressed with VCLA’s deviation from the conventional approach to artificial intelligence.

“The most popular thing in the community may not be the most advanced thing,” Hua said. “I think his group has always been a little bit ahead of the game.”

Zhu’s colleagues, such as Mumford and Harvard collaborator Vahid Tarokh, said they agree with his critiques that deep learning does not generalize well, is dependent on having lots of data and is not wellunderstood. This view is somewhat controversial – given the success and popularity that deep learning has enjoyed in academia and industry – and puts Zhu outside the mainstream.

However, deep learning has still proven successful in a variety of applications, such as speech recognition, which have made their way into commercial products. Carey Nachenberg, an adjunct professor of computer science at UCLA who has given talks on campus about deep

tianfu wu, research assistant professor of statistics

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shallowness of deep learning

figure 1

@dailybruinprime | SPRING 2016

learning, said that he believes the neural network approach is still the most promising in achieving humanlevel cognition.

“I’d say deep learning is fairly well-understood,” Nachenberg said. “People understand how it works and it’s not a perfect model, but it’s a model of how real neurons work.”

Nachenberg also said that the amount of data required for the deep learning approach does in fact model human learning, because humans also take in huge amounts of visual input from birth and learn from large data sets.

Because of the momentum and widespread acceptance of deep learning, victories like the one VCLA had in the MSEE project provide significant institutional validation.

The intelligent systems designed in Zhu’s lab are – in the perspective of the students involved – a step ahead.

“Most people are still working on detecting objects while we’re moving forward on determining intention,” said Yixin Zhu, a doctoral student and researcher in the lab.

Following the success of the MSEE project, DARPA approved another four-year, $5.23 million grant for VCLA focusing on human-robot collaboration work that will run through 2019. The Office of Naval Research has also awarded Zhu two Multidisciplinary University Research Initiative grants, totaling $20 million from 2010 to 2020.

As a result, he’s the principal investigator of nearly $35 million in joint research grants this decade, an almost unheard of sum for a statistics professor at a public university. His research group now boasts more than 40 researchers, including undergraduates, graduate students and professors.

Despite the success, Nishant Shukla, a doctoral student and researcher in the lab, said he feels like their group is the underdog.

“Currently, industry is embracing neural networks for arbitrary tasks,” Shukla said. “It’s not that we’re totally against it, it’s just there are a lot of parameters learned in these neural networks – all these numbers being learned. And as a human you don’t care about those numbers.”

The ideas and methods from the lab’s research have not been widely adopted and have yet to gain the kind of widespread recognition that deep learning enjoys. Results using neural networks and deep learning are published by others to much fanfare, but Zhu said he sees those as ultimately short-term plays.

“What you heard from the news, (that) Google did this, Microsoft did that, Intel did that ... (those are) shortterm things. They are using techniques that have been invented in universities 10 years ago, 20 years ago,” Zhu said. “But what we are doing is what will happen in 10 years, 20 years – the natural intelligence.”

Grants like DARPA’s provide him with more tangible tools to execute this long-term vision.

For its research, the lab employs virtual reality devices, tactile gloves and the same physics simulation software used by Disney for its animated films. The most eyecatching piece of technology, however, is Tony.

nishant shukla, researcher at vcla

tony the autonomous robot

Getting Tony to do things is not easy. In the same way that common sense reasoning is difficult for computers, even state-of-the-art robots have difficulty accomplishing simple tasks. One of Tony’s most impressive accomplishments to date is opening the door to a minifridge, taking out a can of soda and handing it to a human.

Programming a robot to understand the mechanics that humans take for granted, such as knowing the appropriate amount of energy to use and the proper grip orientation necessary for opening a door, is a complex research project.

As limited as Tony might seem, he represents VCLA’s commitment to tackling the problem of integrating AI, vision and robotics by building a system that can view the real world, understand what it sees and act on that understanding. Tony takes the lab’s intensely abstract and theoretical goal – finding a unified framework and representation of human intelligence – and brings it to life.

Moreover, Tony grounds the work in reality, forcing any theoretical model of intelligence that the lab decides on to be programmable down to robot actions.

One project that demonstrates the end-to-end nature and philosophy of the lab is Shukla’s research project, which aims to teach Tony how to learn from human demonstration. The task he started with is folding clothes.

In the lab, students were recorded folding shirts at different angles and in different ways. The video input was parsed and translated into graphical structures that encode knowledge about time, space and causation. After several demonstrations, the robot learned the concept of what it means to fold.

Once it was trained exclusively on videos of humans folding shirts, Tony was presented with a pair of pants to fold to demonstrate that it can generalize what it has learned. Not only did the robot fold clothing it had never seen before, but it was also able to choose to fold clothes in ways it hadn’t yet seen based on the principles of folding it had learned.

This approach is also used in several of the lab’s other projects. The input is some form of human demonstration, which can be videos of humans folding clothes, shaking hands, choosing a seat or even exploring a virtual environment. The video input, using computer vision tools and the model developed by the lab, is parsed into a representation meant to be understood by humans graphically and by robots through code. Once the system successfully demonstrates understanding of the simple task, the task is generalized.

Now that Tony is capable of learning how to fold clothes, Shukla intends to make it capable of manipulating objects more generally. The goal is for Tony to be intelligent enough to watch instructional cooking videos and replicate them.

The lab’s goals for Tony extend beyond being able to learn and complete tasks. Tianfu Wu, a research assistant

professor of statistics at UCLA and a supervisor in the lab, said one of the other major projects in the lab is designing vision systems capable of observing “dark matter.”

In VCLA’s work, dark matter – a borrowed term from physics – refers to matter that cannot be physically observed but is inferred to exist. Humans can look at videos or photos of other people and infer motivations, moods, social norms and plans – things that are not visible but exist. A simple example Zhu has used is a scene with a ketchup bottle placed upside down. The “dark matter” here is the implied goal of making it easier to squeeze ketchup out of a bottle.

Designing an intelligence capable of that kind of reasoning is ambitious.

“This has been something that, well, not many people have had the guts to try,” Mumford said.

Wu said neither Zhu nor his lab are interested in small problems. Steven Holtzen, a graduate student who has been with the lab for more than two years, said it’s what makes the lab both challenging and exciting to work for.

“One of the things that’s interesting about this lab is that it’s not afraid to ask really intense questions,” Holtzen said. “It means there’s a pretty high bar for what counts as meaningful here.”

“what we are doing is what will happen in 10 years, 20 years – natural intelligence.”

- song-chun zhu, director of vcla

a long fall WRITTEN BY HAYLEY MCAVOY PHOTOS BY ZINNIA MORENO

I

magine you’re walking along, when all of a sudden you trip, fall and land in a ditch. You try to climb to get out, but your initial attempts are in vain. You just sink further. Before you know it, you’re at the bottom of a deep hole. You are alone and have no hope of coming out. You want to call out for help, but you don’t. You don’t know why, but you just feel like you can’t.

This is the best possible way I can describe my depression.

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I didn’t learn about mental illness – depression in particular – until I took my uncle’s health class in my freshman year of high school. I’ll never forget how he described it.

He introduced depression as “the common cold” of mental illness simply because it is the most common one. As he went more in depth, he struggled to find the words to illustrate the disorder until he finally said, “It’s when you can’t find the joy in life anymore.

Those little things that would normally make you happy each day, just don’t anymore.”

I let those words sink in. The rest of the class looked confused – but I wasn’t. I actually understood. I was beginning to realize what had been happening over the past two years of my life.

My depression began when I was in eighth grade.

Life up until that point was, for the most part, normal and carefree: I had some friends, I got good grades, I was walking along.

Then I tripped.

@dailybruinprime | SPRING 2016

made alone. At the very least, I was stable.

And then I fell further. I’m not entirely sure why.

It could’ve been the fact that this was the start of sophomore year – the beginning of Advanced Placement and honors classes – and I was neglecting my mental health more than ever before and instead focusing on school. Or because I was spending increasingly less time with the same friends that I had confided in. I could speculate for hours. At the time, I didn’t understand why, but I knew I was sinking again.

I thought about, heavily considered and very nearly did try to kill myself. It wasn’t something I wanted to do – rather, it was something I felt I had to do. I was suffering in a silent battle with no end in sight. I specifically remember using some sort of delusional “logic” to deduct that the only solution was to end it all.

But seeing as I’m here today – a student at UCLA writing this column – I didn’t make an attempt.

Two of the girls whom I had told in the spring noticed a change in my behavior around the time I was contemplating my death. They insisted that I get help, and later that day, I did. I did this because I truly didn’t want to kill myself. I wanted help and I wanted to be better, but I just needed an extra push.

Within one afternoon, I told my mom, went to a therapist, was diagnosed as “severely depressed with suicidal tendencies” and was put on an antidepressant in conjunction with therapy.

It took a couple years before I felt “normal” again.

And even today – more than five years after that day – I still at times feel depressed and alone. However, this is not how I spend the majority of my time. The recovery from depression is an ongoing process, filled with ups and downs. I have been back to therapy and back on medication, but I’ve also had some of the best experiences of my life. I was accepted to UCLA, I climbed Mount Kilimanjaro, and I’ve seen the sunrise over Half Dome in Yosemite National Park – just to name a few. I have learned to enjoy the good times as intensely as I can and take the not-so-good ones as a passing phase. Because there will be a next day, and there will be a better day.

IT SEEMED SO EASY; EVERYONE ELSE EXUDED HAPPINESS WITH SEEMINGLY NO EFFORT WHILE I WAS HAVING TROUBLE SIMPLY FAKING A SMILE.

Like the common cold, there isn’t a definite “cure” for depression. Even worse, depression is often treated just like a standard cold – as a nuisance, something you can just “get over.” Since no one had ever talked about it with me, that’s how I thought it was. Something you

THAT WAS ONE OF MY BIGGEST OBSTACLES – THIS IDEA THAT I COULDN’ T TALK ABOUT IT

don’t talk about and needed to get over.

That was one of my biggest obstacles – this idea that I couldn’t talk about it. I didn’t think depression was a big deal because it was never something that was discussed.

And if it was, it was in the context that people with depression were “crazy.” Therein lies the greatest problem surrounding mental illness – stigma. Individuals are stigmatized based on their psychiatric label of depression.

There’s this idea that having a mental illness means something is inherently wrong with the person, rather than the disorder is affecting them. But there is also perceived stigma by the person with depression. This includes the internalized frustrations that people hold against themselves. Stigma is the greatest roadblock that prevents those who need treatment from seeking it.

In my experience, I mostly dealt with perceived stigma.

I knew that something was wrong, but I didn’t know what it was. I didn’t allow myself to admit it for the longest time because I was afraid of the social stigma I would face.

My depression went undiagnosed for about two years.

I didn’t seek help because I felt I was alone and would be judged for being depressed. Though I didn’t know it at the time, it was fear of stigma that stopped me from calling for help when I first became stuck in the hole. It was only after I overcame the stigma and finally discussed it with people I trusted that I became better.

And I’m not alone. According to a 2012 study, 44 percent of American college students report symptoms of depression. That means, on average in any given lecture hall on campus, almost half of the students have symptoms of depression – depressed mood, lower interest in activities or feelings of worthlessness. Depression – undiagnosed depression in particular – is one of the most prevalent risk factors for suicide. And suicide is currently sitting as the second leading cause of death among college-aged young adults (15-24 years old).

If someone is sick, we treat the illness. If someone’s stuck in a hole, we help pull them out of it. Why is it any different with depression?

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“

It began slowly.

At first, it was a few misunderstandings. I couldn’t understand how all my friends would be laughing and bubbly when I could barely force out a half-smile. I didn’t know why I couldn’t smile or be happy. I tried so hard – I tried to fake-smile and fake being happy, but I couldn’t do it.

It was frustrating. It seemed so easy; everyone else exuded happiness with seemingly no effort while I was having trouble simply faking a smile.

That frustration began to metastasize. I was an eighthgrade adolescent girl. I didn’t know what depression was. I didn’t know exactly how to express what I was feeling to others, mostly because I didn’t know what I was feeling. I was sad at times, happy at times, but just overall completely lost. So I did the only thing I thought I could do: try desperately to pretend like everything was OK. When I entered high school as a freshman, it only became worse. I was constantly confused as to why I was the only one who seemed to feel like this. I remember being so angry with myself because I wasn’t happy. I’d think about all the other people much worse off than me – yet I was the one who couldn’t be happy.

By the middle of my freshman year, my frustration broke into self-hatred. I ended up taking it out on myself through self-injury. Cutting became a release for the inner battle that was constantly going on inside my head – desperately wanting to be happy and “normal” but not being able to achieve it.

For the life of me, I can’t remember what drew me to the idea of cutting. I just remember one day I started, and I couldn’t stop. It was addicting. Right after cutting, I felt a sense of delusional euphoria. But it was quickly followed by regret and shame, sinking me even further than I was before. However, I would continue to repeat this cycle in pursuit of a false sense of happiness. Deep down, I knew what I was doing was unhealthy and wrong, but it was all I had at the time.

For the next few years, my efforts to stop were a mixture of moderate successes and devastating failures.

In the spring of my freshman year, I told a few of my friends about my self-injurious behavior. It wasn’t easy; in fact, it was one of the most difficult things I had to do.

I told them in a moment of desperation, and at first, I was ashamed. But they were sympathetic and supportive, and telling them seemed to actually help.

They made me promise to stop, and I did for a while.

For the first time in two years, I stopped sinking. I wasn’t moving up, but it was more progress than I had

@dailybruinprime | SPRING 2016

REMEMBERING HIM WRITTEN BY LINDSAY BRIBIESCAS PHOTOS BY ZINNIA MORENO

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My dad died three days after classes started in my first year of college. When I heard the news, I was sure that I wouldn’t be able to do ... well, anything.

I shut down and just went along with what people told me to do.

@dailybruinprime | SPRING 2016

PHOTOS COURTESY OF LINDSAY BRIBIESCAS

lot of people say that their parents are their inspiration – or their best friends – and for me, my dad was exactly that and so much more. He was practically my whole world. Since I was little, we had spent every possible moment together. He started reading the Wall Street Journal and Sports Illustrated to me until I was old enough to complain that those magazines were too boring. We graduated to “Harry Potter,” until I didn’t allow him to finish the series because I was old enough to read it by myself. More than 10 years after I stole the book out of his hands, he kept whining about the heartbreak he endured every time someone referenced the series.

All throughout my elementary school years, my dad worked in San Francisco, starting his commute from Santa Rosa anywhere between 2 a.m. and 4 a.m. in order to work at the large bank headquarters there. Whenever I stayed with him as part of the custody agreement after my parents’ divorce, he would wake up even earlier to drive me over to his sister’s house – that way she could take me to school, where she taught – just so we could spend a few more hours together the evening before.

During those years, I often had trouble going to sleep, terrified that my dad would get into a car accident driving into the city. The thought of him dying regularly kept me awake, crying, and even sent me crawling into bed with him a few times. I was scared of being without him – left alone.

But those days passed. When I entered middle school, he quit his job in the city and started working a few miles from our house, where I could walk to his office after school. Most days – all through middle school and high school – I would visit him and remind him to eat something, or just complain about how heavy my backpack was. That proximity to my school also made it possible for him to attend every tennis match of my high school career – and a good number of the practices, too.

He proudly told his friends that he got to be the team’s “ball boy.”

I could go through every year, every moment, of my life and point out where I was emulating my dad, where he had taught me something, where he had pushed and pulled me into trying something terrifying but good for

me. He knew almost all of my secrets and had the best reactions to everything I told him. Our celebrations, whether they were for birthdays or college acceptance letters, were quiet and often brief, but that was what we were comfortable with – a dinner at our favorite restaurant or rewatching our favorite movie. Usually, either he was gone in the morning to get to work or I was staying with my mom – but more often than not, I woke up to a text that proclaimed just how proud of me he was.

Moving to UCLA was the first time I really had to face something without him being there the whole time, but I clung to his promise that he was only a phone call away.

We talked through all of my hopes for college – that I would study abroad, that I would join the newspaper and a few other clubs, that I would try out all of the things I was too scared to do in high school. During those first few days, I texted him almost hourly with updates – ranging from my panic over how scary all my classes were to the new people I was meeting. Every response he sent kept me moving through my homesickness.

So when he was gone, I felt hopeless, terrified, distraught, furious and – strangely – apathetic. Some days, even now, it’s hard to get motivated to do anything, even eat. Some days I want to scream at someone, some days all I want is a hug. A lot of the comfort that people try to give falls flat, simply because I can’t imagine that they understand, and there’s nothing that can make the situation better – only having my dad here could do that.

But that impossibility also leads into my near-constant roller coaster of emotions: switching daily from irrational anger to sadness to confusion, and hitting every emotion in between. But with time comes practice. Now, eight months later, it’s become easier to manage the influx of emotions and actually feel “normal.”

When I first moved into my dorm, I promised myself that I would stop worrying so much. I told myself that everyone goes to college, and no one’s parents ever die, no matter how much they worry. So when my dad failed to text me first thing in the morning for the first time since I got a cell phone, I did my best not to panic. I went to a coffee shop and started studying, beginning to settle into the idea that I was in college, while simultaneously checking my phone every five minutes for his text. By

the time mid-morning passed, I became frantic. I started calling my dad, only to be sent to voicemail. I called his girlfriend, then his best friend – whom I had just been talking to – but neither picked up. I started receiving texts from my mom, asking where I was and telling me to stay there. That was when I really started to panic – she was supposed to be back in Santa Rosa, and she refused to explain why she was in Los Angeles. Ten minutes later, she walked into the coffee shop and pulled me outside.

Less than a minute after that, I was convinced that I was having the worst nightmare possible. I couldn’t control what I was doing, I couldn’t feel my own body and I needed to talk to my dad. The day itself is blurry – all I remember is overwhelming confusion. I couldn’t understand how this had happened, or what I had done wrong. I even briefly convinced myself that I had killed him by leaving for UCLA and subsequently breaking his heart.

During my week in Santa Rosa – after flying back home to my family on the night I found out the news – I realized that I needed to go back to school. Picking out the urn for his ashes, listening to the condolences of my closest friends, visiting all the places that we had frequented – it was too much.

Returning to UCLA was difficult. I didn’t really know anyone, it was a new town and I had missed the first full week of classes. But I wanted the challenge of school, hoping that it would distract me from my grief and confusion. And that plan worked, for the most part. That first quarter, I had to block off a few hours a day just in case my grief got to be too much, which made making friends hard – harder than just missing that first week of classes. But I managed to make a few friends who made the bad days better, and who could make me laugh and not look at me with pity.

Therapy helped, too, even without the deep, movieesque plunge through every aspect of every emotion I have. Knowing that someone is there for you, that their actual job is to listen to you rant or cry or just talk is inordinately comforting. Being able to spew out that I feel guilty and angry and I kind of want a hug – and not be stared at like I’ve lost my mind – is a relief. Even better, the therapist was able to at least assure me that I am

normal. My therapist would walk me through what I was feeling and remind me (when I was at my most irrational) that my dad’s death was not my fault. He died of a heart attack, not of a broken heart, and anyway, I didn’t break his heart by going to college – I made him proud.

Besides just letting me talk, my therapist also gave me strategies to deal with the issues that surfaced following my dad’s death. Sometimes I would disassociate from what was happening – I would struggle to focus or register what was happening as reality – so she recommended that I use mindfulness exercises to help ground myself. When I would suffer panic attacks, she would tell me to talk to someone about anything – to have them reassure me that I was going to be OK, or even just tell me about their day to get my mind off of my panic. She helped me develop plans to deal with or get out of uncomfortable situations or conversations.

Having that support is reassuring – especially a few months after the event, and in a place as big as UCLA. It’s easier to keep up a facade that everything is always fine, even when that’s not true. That facade seems to make it easier for people to forget that I’m still grieving.

But grieving doesn’t stop after a couple months. It keeps hurting, but more often than not, it’s just a hum in the back of your mind. Sometimes the pain is all you can think about, but those times are not necessarily a daily, or even weekly, occurrence – which is manageable.

Now, it’s easier for me to go out and do what my dad and I had planned – I want to make him proud, and it’s a way for me to keep him in mind as much as possible without feeling like I can’t breathe. But even as I’m doing all that, there are still times when I worry that I’ll forget him. I worry that I forget how he used to put hot sauce on everything and then whine about the spiciness. Or how excited he got over freshly made doughnuts or a box set of an old TV show. I sometimes worry that I’ll grow into a person that he wouldn’t know anymore – or even worse, that he wouldn’t like.

But if there is anything that my dad taught me, it is that we have to come from a place of love, not fear. I love my dad more than anything, and he taught me to keep moving forward when things are difficult. So out of love for him, that’s what I’ll do.

CULTURE

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@dailybruinprime | SPRING 2016

SEE

prime

LA GUIDE

CITY

BALDWIN HILLS SCENIC OVERLOOK MK My thighs began to quiver halfway up the Culver City stairs, and droplets of sweat dotted my forehead. Athlete after athlete passed us, conquering the stairs at a running pace.

Despite my apparently poor physical condition, however, the hike to the Baldwin Hills Scenic Overlook was short and relatively easy. On a clear day, the surrounding LA landscape gives any tired wanderer a good excuse to stop and take in the view.

An urban park nestled in the middle of Culver City, the overlook functions today

as a habitat preserve and getaway from city life. The top of the peak sits at an elevation of 500 feet and offers a spacious area for people to get a panoramic view of Los Angeles, the Pacific Ocean and surrounding mountain ranges.

Not only are the sights outstanding, but we even happened upon a bit of wildlife – a lizard scuttling through the chaparral and a snake crossing the road. A visitor center is located on top of the hill, where people can learn more about this natural space and its cultural history within concrete Los Angeles.

CULVER CITY ARTS DISTRICT NG

CULVER CITY

The Culver City Arts District begins farther downtown on La Cienega Boulevard.

For a few concentrated blocks, artist studios, small galleries and street art intermix with artsy cafes, stores and eateries, including Industry Café & Jazz – an Ethiopian restaurant with live jazz music.

Galleries close early, so plan to arrive before sunset to stroll through the contemporary spaces – coffee from Cognoscenti in hand – or wait for nighttime exhibit openings.

Founded in Santa Monica, Blum & Poe relocated to Culver City in 2003 as one

of the first galleries to arrive in the arts district. With locations in New York and Tokyo, the gallery began Culver City’s takeover as a place for experimental conceptual art.

The list of contemporary galleries that followed goes on and on, but some of the more popular ones are Thinkspace and Heart ’N’ Soul Gallery – all hosting rotating artist exhibitions.

But while you’re making up your mind about which one to stroll into, a handful of contemporary murals decorating the walkway are available to satisfy any artistic cravings.

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ny Los Angeles native could remark on the transition Culver City has undergone over the last decade. Once dismissed as the New Jersey of Los Angeles County, downtown is now filled with hipsters – young and old – moving from gallery to cafe to bar and back again.

It’s become a place of good food, art and culture – reminiscent of what it once was during Hollywood’s golden age as the movie studio mecca.

Unlike Santa Monica or Venice, the newly bustling

Culver City still remains toned down and quiet. The local hipsters intermix with visitors, and its downtown doesn’t feel too crowded or rushed. It’s the perfect place to discover a new restaurant, where a long wait is still less than 30 minutes.

Equipped with entertainment, Culver City offers activities for any morning, afternoon or evening jaunt.

Call your Uber and follow prime’s guide to discovering colorful street art, sneaking into the local speakeasy and finding out where to get the coffee to keep you moving.

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WRITTEN BY NATALIE GREEN & MARYROSE KULICK PHOTOS BY MARYROSE KULICK

@dailybruinprime | SPRING 2016

Although Culver City is known as “the heart of screenland,” it also has a thriving arts and theater scene, including the Kirk Douglas Theatre and The Actors’ Gang theater company.

Central to downtown, the Kirk Douglas Theatre was opened in 2004 by the Center Theatre Group.

The theater is a renovated historic movie house harking back to the classic Hollywood era. Now a smaller theater with two stages – one holds 100 seats and the other holds more than 300 – it shows in-house plays and guest productions.

If you’re not up for a night of theater, the movie palace’s maintained exterior – with the original box office and mezzanine tiling – still acts as an attention-grabber from the street. To get inside and see a show, check out group ticket offers, and dress to the nines to transport yourself back to a different time.

SONY PICTURES STUDIOS MK

Just a quick walk from downtown Culver City, a giant rainbow statue peeks out above the buildings at Sony Pictures Entertainment.

While gazing at the 94-foot structure, you might be inspired to start singing “Somewhere Over the Rainbow” – a perfectly normal reaction when standing next to the lot where “The Wizard of Oz” was filmed in the 1930s.

In addition to being a major historical landmark in the film world, the studio continues to add a variety of features to its portfolio, ranging from “13 Going on 30” to “The Amazing Spider-Man.” The company also produces television series like “Shark Tank” and “Outlander.”

For some, peering through the studio’s extravagant iron gate may be satisfactory. But for those with a little more curiosity, interactive tours – where you can follow the yellow brick road and play a game of “Jeopardy!” – are offered on weekdays. Walter White’s RV is also on the premises, but the activities associated with it are most likely prohibited.

EAT

I’m not a coffee drinker, but I am a sucker for latte art.

When we entered Cognoscenti, I ordered my usual black tea and took advantage of my friend’s beautifully decorated mocha latte for some coffee photography. Despite my usual distaste for the stuff, I took a sip of the frothy drink, and surprisingly, I

FATHER’S OFFICE NG

The first bar I went to when I turned 21 was Father’s Office.

There are two locations in Los Angeles – one in Culver City and the original in Santa Monica.

The Culver City location lives in the Helms Bakery District, an offshoot street in downtown with a hidden art bookstore – Arcana: Books on the Arts – and the acclaimed hot dog truck, Let’s be Frank.

After being carded at the door of Father’s Office, you step

COPENHAGEN PASTRY MK

Located on the opposite side of Washington Boulevard relative to the arts district, Copenhagen Pastry is Culver City’s authentic Danish bakery.

When we entered the shop, we were greeted by a glass case full of perfectly golden and flaky pastries.

Overwhelmed, we asked the friendly woman behind the counter what she recommended. She said, “I recommend you try samples.”

With that, she placed three different pastries on a

BLIND BARBER NG

Blind Barber is tucked far down on Washington Boulevard next to barren strip malls and a Weight Watchers.

By day, it’s a discreet barber shop, with a small barber’s pole outside and an advertisement on the window for a free drink with a haircut.

But at night, you walk through the barber-shop front, past men getting their monthly trim, and into a

really enjoyed it.

Overall, this cafe has a quintessentially hip and modern atmosphere, with orange and yellow chairs that contrast well with black and metallic tables. It matches the general aesthetic of Culver City Arts District, and therefore functions as a go-to stop in between shopping and gallery browsing.

inside to dim lighting and packed communal wooden tables.

The bar serves 36 craft beers on tap, but more importantly, it’s home to one of the best burgers in town: its signature Office Burger.

The burger – created by chef and owner Sang Yoon – is topped with caramelized onions, blue cheese and arugula on a crunchy bun.

Oh, and the beer is good, too.

napkin – the Kringle, the Copenhagen and the Braided Cinnamon. The Copenhagen incorporated yellow custard and chocolate, while the Kringle, topped with almonds, fused both custard and almond paste. The Braided Cinnamon was a delicious Danish version of the classic cinnamon bun. We left with a purchase of all three.

The woman smiled and bid us a good day as we made our way to the bench out front to eat our pastries. The hardest part by far was having to share.

speakeasy in the back. It’s an “Alice in Wonderland” moment, walking from sterile white into a dark, candle-lit room with a central bar and scattered tables.

After happy hour from 6 to 8 p.m., the bar picks up later in the evening with DJs, and 20- and 30-somethingyear-old hipsters mingle and dance until two in the morning. They even have an overpriced food menu with delicious small bites, specialty grilled cheeses and sweets.

JACKSON MARKET NG MK

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Minutes away from the Sony Pictures Studios, Jackson Market is tucked within a suburban street.

The front sign is partially covered with vines, and if it hadn’t been for our Uber driver’s GPS, we might have mistaken it for a little house.

Using our feminine wiles, we asked the employee at the deli counter to design his own custom sandwich creation. There was a little bit of confusion, but after we issued our challenge, he ultimately agreed with a

smile.

The sandwich was delicious, stuffed with vegetables, thin slices of provolone cheese and marinated with vinaigrette. However, there was some misunderstanding over meat – or lack thereof.

Regardless, we chowed it down on the back patio, surrounded by a lovely garden and koi pond. With the wide range of beverages and grocery items sold inside, we could have stayed there all afternoon.

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DO

KIRK DOUGLAS THEATRE NG

COGNOSCENTI COFFEE MK

@dailybruinprime | SPRING 2016

MATERIALS

1 white egg

*Complete kits are available online.

1 egg blower

1 kistka (traditional writing tool)

1 candle

1 piece of beeswax

3-4 watersoluable dyes

1 small cloth towel

INSTRUCTIONS Wash your hands with soap to make sure there are no extra oils on your fingers that will interfere with the dye.

3 4 5

To make design planning and color choice easier, envision what you want your egg to ultimately look like. Or wing it. That’s fine too.

6

Start drawing! Dip the metal tip into the puddle of wax and reheat it in the flame to initiate the capillary action, then draw whatever design suits you. Keep in mind that whatever you draw first with the wax will be white in color. If you don’t want any part of your egg to be white, then dye it first in yellow, orange, etc.

An idea to get you started: Wrapping a rubber band around the egg makes a great stencil for creating straight lines or a border around the egg.

WRITTEN BY MARYROSE KULICK PHOTOS BY MARYROSE KULICK & AUSTIN YU

M

y relationship with my Ukrainian heritage has always been minimal.

It has consisted mostly of pierogies – potato- and cheese-filled dumplings – for birthday dinners and my grandfather saying “dai bozhe” every time we sneezed.

It wasn’t until last February that my family and I decided to expand on our ethnic traditions and attend a workshop in my hometown on making pysanky – Ukrainian Easter eggs.

What makes these eggs different from the average plop-an-egg-in-some-dye decorating technique is the use of wax in creating a design. “Pysanka” derives from the Ukrainian word meaning “to write,” and in undertaking the craft, one has the creative opportunity to write a story or message on a blank eggshell. Our instructor had a massive collection of eggs decorated in every fashion, from intricate and traditional designs to simple flowers or geometric shapes.

Certain shapes and symbols in traditional pysanky

embed many different meanings into the art form. For instance, a horse represents wealth and endurance.

Baskets represent knowledge. Windmills represent happiness.

In browsing through the piles of eggs on my instructor’s kitchen table, however, the design that struck my eye was not made with these images. My instructor’s daughter had made an egg with a pastoral image of the Sierra Nevada – the same hills that could be seen outside the window.

Inspired by this homage to our little foothill town, I came up with a design that also reminded me of home – a clear starry night sky decorated with constellations and other celestial bodies.

The amount of detail in your own pysanka will ultimately depend on your level of experience and the steadiness of your hand, but here are the basic things you need to get started on making an “egg-cellent” piece of art.

Prepare your egg. To make sure the final product lasts a long time, it is important to drain the liquid inside. Using the egg blower, poke a hole into the eggshell and blow into the mouthpiece, forcing out the yolk and egg whites. (If you don’t have an egg blower or any desire to get one, hard-boil your egg and you’ll have a fancylooking snack to eat later.)

Prepare the dyes you plan to use (follow the instructions on the package).

Light your candle, and heat the metal part of the writing tool in the flame. Then, dip the hot metal into the dark wax. Repeat this action until you have a puddle of melted wax.

Pro tip: Make sure your strokes are smooth. Don’t go back and forth like you’re sketching. It will make the egg look scratched in the end.

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After drawing your design, dye the egg in the first color, starting with the lightest color. Generally, the dye order is yellow, orange, red, blue and black. Keep the egg in the dye for about five minutes. The longer you leave it in the dye, the more intense the color will be. Let the egg dry completely.

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Repeat steps 5-7 as many times as it takes to get the desired colors. Keep in mind whatever colors you cover with wax will be on the final egg.

Pro tip: Keep in mind how colors mix. For instance, dyeing green over orange will probably turn the egg brown. If you want green on your egg, paint it onto the egg with a brush, and then cover the green areas with wax to prevent any unwanted mixing.

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After you have finished dyeing your egg in the last color and letting it dry, melt the wax on the egg with the candle. Wipe the wax off with a cloth towel.

Once the egg is clean, you will have revealed the finished product!

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DIY: Pysanky

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@dailybruinprime | SPRING 2016

recipe: strawberries and cream scones WRITTEN BY JESSICA CHAN PHOTOS BY MARYROSE KULICK

t’s hard to leave behind a place that holds so many memories, but as I had for most of my life, I turned to baking in the midst of the change.

Since I was 6 years old, I’ve spent countless hours learning about the world that lies within butter and sugar.

Baking had been my comfort and constant through the stresses of high school, and it was the way I showed people that I cared – apple pie for dad’s birthday and chocolate cream cake for Mother’s Day. For a long time, I thought it was the actual making of food that I was drawn to, but it’s much more than that. For my family, the kitchen is where we come together to make a meal, and the table is where friendships and family bonds pick up right where they left off, even if we’ve spent weeks or months apart.

Food brings people together and creates memories, and to me, that’s magic.

As I packed my belongings, I looked around me, realizing the emptiness of the place that just weeks before had been

home. This house was where I had lived all my life, and before that, it was where my mom grew up and where we celebrated every birthday and holiday for as long as I can remember. This home was the place that held memories at every stage of my life – from childhood to young adulthood.

When I baked these scones, it felt right for the first time since I learned we were moving. The sunset streamed in through the kitchen window as it often did when I pulled the tray of strawberry-swirled scones out of the oven. As my mom and I packed away the last of our things, leafing through old photo albums while eating fresh scones, I felt a sense of closure. I came to terms with saying goodbye to the home that had carried me through so many chapters of my life. These scones were the last thing I baked before moving – they represented closure then, and today, when I make these scones, I think back to that moment.

Note: Recipe adapted from the Smitten Kitchen.

ingredients 2 ¼ cups all-purpose flour 1 tablespoon baking powder ¼ cup granulated sugar ½ teaspoon table salt 6 tablespoons cold unsalted butter, cubed 1 cup very ripe strawberries, chopped 1 cup heavy cream

materials Baking sheet Parchment paper or nonstick spray Bowl Whisk Rubber spatula or spoon Knife

1

instructions Preheat the oven to 425 F and line a baking sheet with parchment paper.

In a large bowl, whisk together the flour, baking powder, sugar and salt. Work the butter into the flour mixture with your fingers, flattening each butter cube, until the mixture is crumbly. It’s best to work quickly and handle the dough as little as possible, making sure not to let the butter get too warm. With a rubber spatula, gently stir in the strawberries until they are coated in the flour mixture. Stir in the heavy cream, then knead the dough once or twice in the bowl to create one mass. Again, be sure not to overwork the dough.

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Dust your counter with flour, then transfer the dough onto the counter.

Sprinkle flour over the top of the dough, then pat it out into a rough circle until it is 1 inch thick. Cut the dough into eight triangles. Place each triangle onto the prepared baking sheet, leaving a few inches between each one.

Bake the scones for 12-15 minutes, or until they are golden at the edges. Cool the scones on the pan for one minute, then transfer to a cooling rack. Serve warm with sweetened whipped cream.

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@dailybruinprime | SPRING 2016

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