MARCH 2015
VOL. 5 ISSUE 3
CalArts Eye 1
The CalArts Eye is an uncensored, T H Emulti-mĂŠtier C A L A R T S E Y Epublication composed & created by students at California Institute of the Arts, Los Angeles.
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cover artwork: Sirap Leakim
Look out, look at the horizon. If you
EPISODE 3 - COURSE ADVISING DAY
Welcome to the Institute
*We’d like to thank Eliane Lima for her image contribution, which appeared on the cover of our last issue.
BY JESSE VANDENKOOY
overtime to prepare for what is surely to be a horrific and gruesome Course Advising see yourself there, you’ve Day. gone too far, you should have made a right at the elevator. Faculty, the Provost encourages everyone to bring your own coffee and get a good Welcome to the Institute night sleep. It is course advising day listeners. Please remain calm. Listeners, I am currently Find shelter, and if you must broadcasting from understep out into the world please neath my desk. I sincerely follow these guidelines out- hope that online registration lined by the Student Council: was successful for you who may be able to remain safe. Wear protective headgear. Do For the other 1400 of you, not eat a large breakfast. Any especially those of you in the person who may have trou- music school who can’t take ble moving quickly should anything because for some not leave their dorms or their reason the system still thinks homes. Run, run as fast as you haven’t taken Theory A, you can, don’t let them catch which is a pre-requisite for you, don’t become a victim to like everything, and come on, the terrible terrible horrors what’s up with that?, I wish that await you on this day of you well and hope to see you all days. Blood may shed, and on the other side. To you all the nurse will be standing by, in Dance and Critical Studies, but she has only so many re- who are probably not even sources, and probably won’t going to show up — curse be able to tend to all of the you all! injured in time. Henry Mayo Hospital has every member And now, message from our of the staff working double sponsors: THE CALARTS EYE
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EDITORS Stephanie Taglianetti Lauren Artiles Ben Levinson
CONTRIBUTORS Patrick Behnke Hannah Dexter Ari Eckols
Salina Gallegos Charlie Latan Sirap Leakim Salina Mahoney
Jesse VanDenKooy Gingy Q Stephanie Taglianetti Ani Tatintsyan
artwork: Sirap Leakim
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DESIGNER Margaret Andersen
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I am inferior I am ridiculous I am a working mass of exceptional quasi-qualities nonconforming to comforting disturbances bouncing in trees and walking words, knocking on locks and sweating shocks of grief. We are there together, and the lizard king is before us, and the reality of what is to be lost is evident. Sleep not, wake if sleep comes, and run — run fast. I am feeling it I am fearing it I am loving it Ba-da-ba-ba-ba I am loving it McDonald’s Am update on Course advising Day. There have been three reported deaths and twenty-seven injured. It is very possible that this may be the end of us all. Even Panda, you know, the gorilla who lives on the roof, she has been howling to the skies for hours, pleading to the Heathen Gods to spare us from this bloody ritual of chaos and disappointment. The Office of the Provost maintains that this procedure is still necessary to ensure we remain in good standing with the Heathen Gods. Some argue that the old ways of CalArts are over, and that in an evolving world of technology and information—surely there can be a better way. Like, maybe we can get the Heathen Gods their own video blog. I mean, they do know how to use the internet right? I know they’re old and all, but seriously— we have a digital arts minor, and maybe they should sign up. They could totally go into the new KCIA Creator Studio and put up a video blog, or host a talk show. We could give them their own segment, anything to end this turmoil on this day of all days.
In other news, the Student Council announces that it will be throwing a new series of events in which people show up, sit for several hours in silence, and then leave. This three hour extravaganza is a reimagining of the usual events and comes in response to the criticism that certain events have budgets that are too large. After the event, a survey will be sent out which nobody will participate in. The registrar would like to remind everyone that the add/drop period has been extended indefinitely. Really, just bring those forms in whenever, before commencement is encouraged but not required. The Food Services Committee has set forth a new set of policy around cafeteria menus, and, after much discussion and planning, Cafe management has announced that it will replace all non-liquid food options with oats. When asked, “Why oats?,” the general manager said, “It’s important that we keep our staff up-to-date on the latest innovations and trends in terms of cuisine.” Some of you may have noticed the new iron gate that surrounds the field located just beyond the parking lot. Some of you may not have. It is, after all, completely invisible and the bars are wide enough apart that you can probably walk right between them and not even notice you had passed a gate. Facilities has requested that the gate itself and the area within it remain a graffiti-free and smoke-free zone, and urge students to refrain from making eye contact with any official looking people in suit carrying metal-detectors that may or may not frequent the newly gated area. We sent one of our work-study students Robbie Chang, to investigate the new gate a few hours ago, and we expect a full report soon. Listeners, there is a huge mass of peo-
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ple outside of the station door. I can hear them banging on it, shouting and pleading for food, water, and shelter. I feel that I must help them, but know that doing so would only put me in grave danger. This course advising day had proved to be even more brutal than ever. I fear that they will break down the door and so I am currently speaking quietly and hiding under my desk. Hopefully they will go away soon. I wish them well, poor souls. I will strive to deliver the news until my last breath, and can only hope that I will survive this day of all days. With me luck listeners, for the future, but for now...the weather. [Weather] Listeners, it. is. over. Papers are in, course numbers are keyed-in, and for the most part everybody is enrolled in classes. The angry mob dissipated shortly after the arrival of a food truck, which admittedly didn’t have enough food for everyone but was a welcome relief all the same. All I can say is, good riddance, now we can get along with our peaceful, peaceful semester. Well, for a couple of days maybe, but really, what more could we ask for? It was truly a beautiful sight to see everyone from the community come together to tend the wounded, share sigh of relief, hug a friend that was, perhaps for today, an enemy. It just goes to show what kind of place this is — one in which we go through absurd, frightening, and dangerous procedures year after year, semester after semester, and yet come out on the other side a glorious collection of diverse and prolific individuals. We must celebrate our triumphs! Why change a thing? Sure it may not be perfect, but it’s worked before right? I mean, if it’s a part of who-we-are as CalArts, it should not be tampered with, regardless of how strange, counterproductive, or arcane it may be. The long term faculty have sent their carrier pigeons to the administration (the
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tried and true way of communicating over the decades) and informed them that course advising day is over, and to ensure the Heathen Gods who watch over us remain at bay for another semester. Ladies and gentlemen, I do have one last report before wishing you all a fond farewell for the evening. I regret to inform you that our workstudy, Robbie Chang, has died. Witnesses report seeing him enter Tatum about an hour ago, quivering, eyes bloodshot and unblinking, clothes greyed and tattered as though he had been held by some massive claw and dragged across the ground. He then waited in line for about fifteen minutes, ordered and Iced Latte and burst into flames, leaving behind nothing but a pile of baked ashes and the smell of terror. I am appalled, fifteen minutes, really? That is an absurd amount of time to wait in line. They really need to get another register in Tatum. On the bright side, Tatum will be featuring a limited-edition Robbie Chang Dark Roast coffee starting tomorrow. Get it while it’s still here! We will miss Robbie and thank him for his service and commitment to the news. We have decided to postpone any investigation on the new gate until further information becomes available to us. As always, stay safe, and make good art. Goodnight listeners, goodnight. Today’s Proverb: What you can’t see can’t hurt you, unless of course it has teeth, or a shovel.
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artwork: Sirap Leakim
BY ARI ECHOLS
Clothbones
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artwork: Sirap Leakim
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hamburger by Charlie Latan the dimwit (who is also a husband) doesn’t need to know about the adulterer hiding in the pot like he doesn’t need to know the delicious hamburger was made with a patty picked up off the floor # -- LET HIM TASTE AND LET HIM REMEMBER # don’t feed him a regret that never asked for his mouth THE CALARTS EYE
photo: Salina Gallegos
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closeted meatEater BY GINGY Q
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photo: Salina Gallegos
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I Remember by Stephanie Taglianetti I remember crooked teeth in the morning menthol cigarettes between brushing your hair and teeth. blue briefs, maybe green and navy around your waist, a towel worn with holes – like the songs you played on the piano. the persistent cough, choking on slurred words and Tennessee whiskey rolling in the back seat, with me.
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At The Pearly Fucking Gates a poem-play BY SELENA MAHONEY Me: What the hell. God: Yes? Me: This is real. God: Yes. Me: But I’ve lived my whole life, I’ve live my whole life, I’ve lived my whole life as is. God: I know. Me: But you’re big and booming and big and booming and a man. God: Yes. Me: And you’re wearing a toga and splashed in gold, you’re splashed and gold and clean. God: Yes. Me: You’re white. God: I am white. Me: God is a white man, God is a white man, God is a white man dressed in a toga, splashed in gold and clean. God: I am a white man. Me: Holy shit. God: Original. Me: Bullshit. God: Even more so. God Me God Me Me: Why am I here? God: Because I poked holes in my son’s hands and made him bleed. Me: But I masturbated and crossed the double yellow lines and renounced you with everything I got and stole lingerie and kissed women and smoked tobacco (my lungs might be grey) and had a hanging labia and was a feminist and yelled at my mother when I was young and lied and cheated and was a black woman, a black woman a woman that was black. God: You are forgiven. Me: For what? I wanna be remembered.
I wanna, I wanna, I wanna be remembered! God: Breath, child. Me: My daddy was a little more black than you. He had curly hair and hated it. God: You’re daddy ain’t here. Me: Why? God: Because he missed the mark. Me: Why? God: Because he was born wrong. Me: You made a mistake? God: I don’t make mistakes. Me: I’m going home... You don’t make any sense to me. God: My mind is a multiverse, and my thoughts are incomprehensible. You will not find answers in me, just a place to rest your head. Me: I don’t wanna rest my head. I want my head to get old and start sagging a little. And when I walk down the streets, I want people to whisper that I done something good. God: You’re egotistical. Me: You think clouds’ll shut me up! You poked holes in your son and talk circles around me! God God God Me: Can I go home? God: Concentrate and ask again. Me: May I go home? God: Outlook not so good. Me: Is this forever? God: F-O-R-E-V-E-R. Me: I think I’ll get bored trying to be good for all that time. God: Signs point to yes. Me: Can I write poetry here? God: Reply hazy ask again.
photo: Patrick Behnke
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I NEED BIG GIRL PARTY BY HANNAH DEXTER
Two years ago, I hosted girls’ night for the ladies in the department at my place in Lakeshore. There were 6 of us, fairly new friends. I had politely asked my male roommates to keep their time in the dining room to a minimum that night. We were joking and swapping stories. Laughing and giving advice. They were not my enemies or even my competition. They were just like me. We began sharing serious stories of previous institutions where teachers asked classmates about our sexual history or TA’s called us sexy in front of the whole class. Not traumatizing, but humiliating. “I think you’re wrong.” My uninvited male roommate interrupted from the kitchen. “That didn’t happen to you. No one does that.” I know that not all men would say this. But when one did, none of us could tell him to fuck off. We sat there. Silent and secondguessing ourselves. Defeated.
We don’t need to feel this way anymore. We are valuable. We are intelligent. We have beautiful perspectives and skills to offer the world. We don’t deserve to be treated poorly or to be dismissed by anyone. Big Girl Party is the new safe space for us. Every Thursday from 4- 5:30pm in the Roy O. Disney Concert Hall (Music School), every girl at CalArts can gather as one entity to support, empower, and celebrate each other (and have a fucking kickass time with a bunch of ladies). We’re not building a house, or a festival, or even a legacy, but we are building our selfworth and our love for each other. Something that won’t be torn down or forgotten once we’ve graduated. You (the female or female identifier) are welcome to come. Otherwise, dance and celebrate with us, 12pm, Friday March 13th, in the Main Gallery.
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Antithesis BY ANI TATINTSYAN I’m thinking about How careful I am now when choosing words. The right ones never feel right enough Before I finish I’m already disappointed in my decisions. Summer 2011, in a pool on a hot day Trying to forget or remember some moment of good In dirty water, Surrounded by clean friends. I’m thinking about The person I have become or the many people I claim to be The rightful owner(s) of my mind Emails sent to people we use to know, Together A part of me is sutured within the context of that address I don’t use anymore What is left behind in the profiles we delete, then, I wonder. I’m thinking about The feeling of being left Or the feeling of being right About the many bad habits I have to kick And screaming about my selfish desires like a child Being seven, Seeing my grandmother in the hallway of my house, Laughing, while being held. Looking at myself and recognizing the dialectic Of action and experience. In the mirror, I see a resemblance to the present,
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photo: Salina Gallegos
The synthesis of Me. I always only think about me. That’s why I don’t remember if I asked her if she was okay, But I know I won’t forget that day. I pick a point and stand still on the ground And I try to construct a thesis. Something tells me I won’t be able to do it. My mother tell me to fix my posture, I don’t listen. I pick a man and lie still on the bed And I try to forgive. Something tells me I won’t be able to do it, I listen.
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CalArts Faculty Union for Dummies Recently, there has been much hoopla on campus about the prospect of a Faculty Union. Perhaps you've heard about it from a teacher (and you've certainly seen the posters), but the actual arguments from both sides are still difficult to parse out. So, without further ado, here is the breakdown of what both camps have presented to Student Council: The Union Enthusiasts State That... Unionizing would give the faculty collective bargaining power. It would give us Shared Governance, guaranteed creative leaves, improved faculty/student ratios, and budget transparency. A union contract would give adjunct faculty (roughly 30% of our faculty) increased job stability, as well as better wages benefits. Right now, salary increases are contingent upon the good will of the administration/Board of Trustees. What happens when these deciding parties aren't feeling kind? A Union would guarantee fair wages, benefits, and working conditions, independent from administrative benevolence. The bargaining would be voted on/decided/handled by the Faculty itself. The Union is not an external deciding force. We are the Union.
CalArts is not an ordinary school. The SEIU is not prepared to negotiate a unique arts education contract that varies from school to school, and one blanket contract will certainly not serve the needs of this community. A Union would negotiate salaries, benefits, and conditions. It would not affect things like Shared Governance and other operational goals/challenges of the faculty. Assuming that a Union would come in and solve every problem is idealistic and frankly, a little naive. The Union process has been rushed and pushed through without proper consideration or discussion. CalArts was founded on the ideals of collegiality in a non-hierarchical workplace. Rushing into a Union would 1.) undermine these values entirely by establishing an official, regulated distinction between Faculty and Administration and 2.) forgo any opportunities to make changes with the Admins while they are listening (which they are right now, on an unprecedented scale). Real change can happen here, now, without a Union. There have not been opportunities like this before. If, in a year or two, these changes haven't been welcomed, THEN we can re-file with the Union. But right now is not the right time.
The Union Opposers State That... Yes, there are problems that need addressing, but the SEIU (the Union that is being voted on) is the wrong Union for CalArts. It Stay Educated is a Service Workers Union with no track record in education. -Student Council Not only are they brand new to education, but as we all know,
THE CALARTS FESTIVAL IS A TWO-DAY EVENT THAT CELEBRATES THE DIVERSE ART-MAKING PRACTICES WITHIN OUR COMMUNITY. THE FESTIVAL WILL SPREAD ACROSS THE INSTITUTE'S GROUNDS SHOWCASING A NUMBER OF PERFORMANCES, EXHIBITS AND INSTALLATIONS OF ALL TYPES: ARTSFESTIVAL.CALARTS.EDU
WHEN: April 3rd-4th, 2015 Friday 6pm to 2am Saturday 2pm to 2am
FESTIVAL OPEN TO THE PUBLIC SUBMIT:
Submit alongside alumni such as Julia Holter (Singer/ Songwriter/ Composer), Andrea Palloro (Film Director/ Screenwriter), and many others by February 27th, 2015. Can’t make the deadline? You can still be apart of the festival but won’t be on the official lineup poster: http://goo.gl/forms/DjrhvbfeqU
WHERE:
Clark’s Field: Activity Center Hippie Hill: Outdoor Stage Front entrance: Welcoming Center Main Gallery: Indoor Stage Bijou Theater: Screenings and lectures
Got a question?
Email festival@alum.calarts.edu
Food Vendors will spread through the festival grounds, while a Beer + Wine Garden will be located at the Activity center.
BE A PART OF THE TEAM: Email festival@alum.calarts.edu
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