The Visual Arts Issue by Reporter Magazine

02.17.12 reportermag.com

hether by the stroke of a brush, the click of a camera or the steady scratch of a charcoal pencil, art can leave an indelible mark on society. Successful art has the power to tell stories, evoke emotions or raise attention to critical issues. It has the power

role art can play in our lives, the people that make it possible, and the stories they strive to tell through their work.

the issue broad enough to explore a variety of interesting topics, yet focused enough to delve deeply into a subject thoroughly ingrained in RIT culture. It serves to document the current artistic culture at RIT.

Take care, and happy viewing.

The REPORTER staff

Showcasing Student Submissions This week, the magazineâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s centerfold sports some special contributions: photographs and illustrations produced by RITâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s student body as part of a visual art contest. REPORTER organized the contest especially for posters and social media we requested student art submissions from Friday, January 20 through Sunday, February 5. The contest results were printed on two pages of perforated card stock at Monroe Litho on a Heidelberg CD 102 press.

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A Classier Cover UV spot coating, a clear lamination that provides a darker, richer black. The cover intended to utilize this technology to evoke the subtle, powerful nature of much visual art. It was printed at Monroe Litho on a Heidelberg CD 102 press.

ART DIRECTOR’S NOTE

EDITOR IN CHIEF James Arn | eic@reportermag.com

PROCESS

MANAGING EDITOR Brendan Cahill | managing.editor@reportermag.com COPY EDITOR Nathaniel Mathews | copy.editor@reportermag.com NEWS EDITOR Vasia Ivanov | news@reportermag.com LEISURE EDITOR Evan Williams | leisure@reportermag.com FEATURES EDITOR Alex Rogala | features@reportermag.com SPORTS EDITOR Jeff McKinzie | sports@reportermag.com VIEWS EDITOR Brett Slabaugh | views@reportermag.com WRITERS Stephanie Beach, Nick Bovee, Kayla Emerson, Victor Group, Nolan Harris Jr., Nicole Howley, Nilan Lovelace, Peter LoVerso, Juan Madrid, Alex Rogala, Michelle Spoto, Adam Watts, Evan Williams

ART ART DIRECTOR Bradley Patrie | art.director@reportermag.com SENIOR STAFF DESIGNER Lauren Bolger STAFF DESIGNERS Natalie Talis, Emily Levine PHOTO EDITOR Juan Madrid

Art schmart. Every time I try and make an artistic something-or-other I end up with something that’s so far away from the idea I started with, it’s unrecognizable. Inspiration floods in from too many outlets, and I end up with some kind of Frankenstein baby, drooling and pissing all over itself. I’ve always hated my own work. It will never be good enough in my eyes and it will never meet my expectations. I will keep trying to surpass the work of my idols and I will watch every one of those attempts fall short, crash, burn, struggle for life, and eventually, after a long period of suffering, it will finally die. Art makes me mad, and that’s why I like it. If I enjoyed my work too much, there would be no reason for it. Everything I’ve ever created are just trials. There is no such thing as a masterpiece. There is no such thing as perfection. These trials and errors are what keep me moving forward, and soon they become a part of my purpose – to create. Satisfaction with my work would lead to a lack of motivation and eventually my own destruction. With no error to correct the next time around, what point is there in trying again? One might think that the point of being creative is to achieve an end product. This is not true. The whole point of creation is keep creating over and over and over. Without process, there is nothing to drive us forward to create something new that doesn’t contain the errors of past works. Thinking, and learning how to approach a problem with a new creative solution is much more important than the end product of your labor. Conceptualization and the birth of new ideas is what we are after, not creative goods. This creative process we partake in cannot be overlooked. We must not be content with the end product of our labor. We must critique, we must improve, and we must push through the disappointment and the failure in order to take what we have learned, move forward and create something better. So keep creating even if you hate what you end up with, because the end product doesn’t matter. It’s all about the process.

| photo@reportermag.com STAFF PHOTOGRAPHER Neal Danis CONTRIBUTING PHOTOGRAPHERS Cadence Schwatrz, Harry Yatkowitz, Drew Swantak STAFF ILLUSTRATOR Dan Alsheimer CONTRIBUTING ILLUSTRATORS Sam Holmgren, Justyn Iannucci, Evan Oto

Bradley Patrie ART DIRECTOR

CARTOONIST Zac Retz

BUSINESS PUBLICITY MANAGER Anna Hazelwood AD MANAGER Julia Morrow | ads@reportermag.com BUSINESS MANAGER Lia Hoffmann | business.manager@reportermag.com PRODUCTION MANAGER Nicholas Gawreluk | production.manager@reportermag.com ONLINE PRODUCTION MANAGER Jake DeBoer | webmaster@reportermag.com ADVISOR Rudy Pugliese PRINTING Printing Applications Lab Reporter Magazine is published weekly during the academic year by a staff comprised of students at Rochester Institute of Technology. Business, Editorial and Design facilities are located in Room A-730, in the lower level of the Campus Center. Our phone number is 1.585.475.2212. The Advertising Department can be reached at 1.585.475.2213. The opinions expressed in Reporter do not necessarily reflect those of the Institute. KA, I miss your lovely gradients, you should come back and make me another one some time. Letters to the Editor may also be sent to reporter@rit.edu. Reporter is not responsible for materials presented in advertising areas. No letters will be printed unless signed. All letters received become the property of Reporter. Reporter takes pride in its membership in the Associated Collegiate Press and American Civil Liberties Union. Copyright © 2012 Reporter Magazine. All rights reserved. No portion of this Magazine may be reproduced without prior written permission.

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TABLE OF CONTENTS

02.17.12 | VOLUME 61 | ISSUE 19

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29 30

6. Medical Illustration

19. The Creative Process

10. The Brutalist Brick

21. Behind the Masters

12. Not All Black and White

29. The Vignelli Connection

14. When Perception Meets Emotion

30. Word of the Street: Illustrated

16. Borrowed Nostalgia

32. Bathroom Graffiti: Art or Not? cover design by Theo Folinas

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MEDICAL ILLUSTRATION In 2006, during a surgery that would become famous, chief surgeon Christopher Moir separated a set of conjoined twins, connected at the chest. These two girls, Abby and Belle Carlsen (five months old at the time) shared a liver, biliary system, intestine and all of the organs’ surrounding vasculature. After a day-long procedure, the separation was a success, thanks in part to a pair of colleagues who didn’t touch a single surgical instrument.

For Robert Morreale and Michael King, their tools were their hands. The two sifted through thousands of images, including radiographs and MRI scans, to illustrate an accurate depiction of the Carlsens’ shared systems. Moir then used these images like a roadmap as he performed the surgery. These depictions became crucial to the success of the operation, making it clear just how large an impact the work of these two Medical Illustrators was. Despite this, the world of Medical Illustration is small, with just five graduate degree programs in the United States (and even fewer undergraduate degrees), each accepting 16 or fewer applicants per year.

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by Michelle Spoto | illustrations by Evan Oto

RIT has both a graduate two-year MFA degree program and a four year undergraduate BFA program. The undergraduate program focuses solely on the artistic depiction of human anatomy and physiology (many other schools cover animal anatomy as well), helping RIT find its unique place in this small field. With available courses in histology, 3D and 2D design, and anatomy, RIT Medical Illustration students gain a wealth of knowledge in both the artistic and scientific realms. During their first year, Medical Illustration students take basic art courses which provide them with the fundamental skills they’ll need throughout their careers. In their second year, the students begin

“You arrive at 7am, put on your scrubs and look at the surgery board and you pick something that seems interesting to you, then you observe and draw.” to take more science-centered courses such as Human Biology. It is in their third year that Medical Illustration students begin to take classes that were designed specifically for their major. In this year, they focus on the dissection and illustration of a cadaver, an opportunity that most undergrads never get to experience. The cadaver course consists of one lecture and two five-hour dissection periods per week. In addition, most students come to the cadaver lab on their own time, often meeting with other students during late-night study sessions. According to Sara Stewart, a fourth year Medical Illustration student, the opportunity to work in the cadaver lab is something that helps set RIT apart, saying that her favorite thing about the program is “the exposure to opportunities that not many other students get to have.” During their fourth and final year RIT’s Medical Illustration students are provided with a hands-on experience in the field by watching and illustrating surgeries taking place at local hospitals. After a lot of paperwork and some orientation information, the students and the hospital work together to arrange a schedule. For Stewart, a typical day at the hospital goes a little something like this: “You arrive at 7 a.m., put on your scrubs and look at the [surgery] board and you pick something that seems interesting to you, then you observe and draw.” In addition to the cadaver and surgical drawings, Medical Illustration students also have the opportunity to create cellular and molecular animations. Visual depictions of complex cellular pathways or convoluted molecular interactions can help better explain to a student what they’re learning. This educational aspect of Medical Illustration is just one facet of the industry. While the RIT degree does focus on using traditional media, Medical Illustration students also take courses that hone their 3D animation skills — necessary in a technologically advancing world. With an increased focus on medical illustration apps, Stewart has plans to learn some computer programming; a skill that she believes will help keep her up to date in the field.

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In addition to the artistic and scientific knowledge that Medical Illustration students gain during their time at RIT, they also receive invaluable networking opportunities. Anyone with a Medical Illustration degree from RIT is added to a network of students and alumni, who frequently post job openings. Students also have the opportunity to participate in the Association of Medical Illustrators’ yearly conference where they can meet potential employers and professionals in the field. It was through this conference that Stewart was able to meet a representative from Pharma Design Inc., which has offered her a week-long internship during spring break, a valuable hands-on opportunity that Stewart hopes will turn into a full-time job after graduation. While Stewart has her sights set on Pharma Design Inc., a company that focuses on the design and manufacture of packaging for pharmaceutical companies, there are a lot of different career paths for the Medical Illustration grad. According to the Association of Medical Illustrators website, careers range in fields from education to advertising to the veterinary, dental and legal markets. Many students also find a career in medical legal work, creating accurate depictions of injuries that can be used in a legal setting. Despite the numerous fields in which a Medical Illustrator could work, Stewart says it’s all about selling yourself and creating your own job, convincing a company that they need the skills that you have. While some students find a career right after graduation, others decide to continue their education at the graduate level. Whatever their choice after undergrad, whether it be a career or a graduate program, Medical Illustrators are always learning. “You always have a bookshelf of references,” says Stewart. “You’re not going to just know about the newest medical procedure, you have to keep brushing up on your research. It’s a constant learning process.”

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Home is where the ARTis The journey of Gallery r

by Evan Williams

RIT has the unusual distinction of having strong foundations in science and art — two fields often considered to be at odds with each other. (Or maybe not: see “Not All Black and White” on pg. 12 - Ed.) And while science has always been celebrated here, the works of artists often go overlooked. The very nature of visual art requires that it be displayed, and while the lack of a venue does not negate the purpose or value of art, having a space that houses artwork aids in building a healthy and well-respected art scene. Gallery r is just that place. Recently relocated to College Avenue downtown, this metropolitan gallery had humble enough beginnings. 12 years ago, a pair of graduate students passed by a building (just down the street from the current location) and thought of using it to showcase student photography and work from the American School of Crafts. But that space wasn’t ideal at the time, so they set up on Park Avenue until fall of 2011. There was even a point during the move where there was no place to for students to show their work. “Students had to come up with all sorts of alternative places,” says Gallery r director Zerbe Sodervick. “It made a difference. We were able to keep our name out there even without a roof over our heads.” So far the move has been a success. “It’s really nice to be part of this area,” raves Gallery r employee and fourth year Multidisciplinary Studies student Chris Tsotakos. “It’s working out better than the Park Ave location.” It now lies right along the border of the Neighborhood of the Arts, the district known for its abundance of shops, galleries and museums dedicated to local artistry. In the immediate vicinity lies the Village Gate mall, Memorial Art Gallery, Anderson Alley Artists, and Pistachio Press. They even share a door with professional photo gallery Lumiere Photo, sparking a relationship

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Tsotakos says is hugely beneficial. “People from over there come over here, people from over here go over there,” Tsotakos explains. “We help each other out.” Sodervick adds, “Having a gallery on campus makes no sense to us. We’re thrilled to be off-campus and in the Rochester community.” Student Executive Director of Gallery r Ashley Billings expresses the importance of students having a place for their work. “It is a great place for students to brave the difficulty that artists face to get themselves involved in the dialog of contemporary art.” As a second year Masters’ student of Fine Art Studio, Billings recognizes how valuable of an asset Gallery r has become. “Just the practical knowledge that infiltrates through the experience has allowed me to better understand what is expected of me as an artist.” Recent Fine Arts Painting graduate Madonna Pannell has worked with Billings to have her work shown in an on-campus exhibit for Gallery r and describes the experience. “I’m not an ‘in the spotlight’ kind of person and usually like to let my art speak for me,” she says of her African-inspired self portraits. “Luckily a lot of people get what I’m going for.” Up next for the gallery is “Redefining PCP,” an ode to poetry, craft and performance that Billings says will serve to better help the relationship between various artistic disciplines, a relationship she feels is stressed sometimes. “The lack of sensitivity in the dialogue across boundaries is innocent at worst,” she says of the divisions between various artistic communities. “While I am sensitive to the potential sources of these rifts, I refuse to tolerate them. When we know better, we do better.” The grand opening is February 24 and will feature work from all of CIAS for the first time. “A dialogue is necessary to develop a sensibility for all. Redefining PCP talks about all of that.” It’s just the next page in the story keeping RIT’s visual arts visible.

THE BRUTALIST BRICK

by Adam Watts | photographs by Neal Danis

he walls are brown and red; their raw materials exposed to the elements, blocky ironspot bricks forming blocky brick buildings. The bricks, and their influence, are everywhere. They sharpen the wind into knives along the Quarter Mile, cast shadows over the campus paths, and form broad monoliths with all the bulk and weary presence of sleeping gods. Welcome to the Brick City. Try to ignore the wind. Rumors abound that the campus was designed for somewhere in Arizona and simply reused in New York — an attempt to explain a design that channels bitterly cold wind into the most commonly-walked paths. While making for a nice urban legend, that theory holds no truth. RIT was designed and built with the Henrietta marshes in mind, with an intentional focus on the stark and angular buildings as part of the thenpopular architectural style known as brutalism. Brutalism is a style that makes use of repeated angular forms, a rough and blocky appearance, and the exposure of its structural materials. Buildings in this style tend to express their function on the exterior. Despite the name, the style is not actually intended to convey brutality — its name comes from the French phrase béton brut, or “raw concrete.” Concrete, as you might expect from the name, is the most widely used material in brutalist architecture, and when used it is left unsmoothed, so as to reveal the texture of the wooden castings. While concrete is the most common, the brutalist style is known to use other materials in its structures — bricks, for example. It was a popular style in the ‘60s, when the Brick City was being designed, and was meant to convey a sense of solidity in a time of unrest. College campuses in the ‘60s were host to student protests and riots on a level that had never been seen before. The block-like buildings of the brutalist style countered the radicalism of the people inside with something stable and reliable, while retaining a certain practicality. Brutalist structures were quite literally fortified, sturdy and defensible, with recessed windows and ground-level alcoves providing shelter for bystanders in case protests turned violent.

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After seven years of design and construction, RIT’s current campus opened in 1968. The Institute acquired 1,300 acres of land and began plotting out the new campus. While the land was vast, it was comprised mostly of flood plains and wetlands, which greatly reduced the usable area. Careful planning would be key here. To this end, the Institute’s board hired a team of five architectural firms and one landscape architect to design the new campus. After agreeing on some overall design decisions — the ubiquitous use of ironspot bricks and separation of the residential and academic sides — they broke the campus up into five zones, each to be designed and detailed by a different firm. Occasional team meetings were held to examine and critique each other’s work. This unique group design process was a point of contention among the designers: architect Harry Weese stated afterwards that, “Architects need to work each other over as we did,” saying that the firms produced some of their best work with the constant peer review. Meanwhile his compatriot Kevin Roche believed that a layout designed wholly by one firm would have been superior to the collaborative method’s result. Whatever the case, that original design remained relatively untouched for several decades before a series of renovations changed the shape of the Institute. More recent additions to the campus have slowly shifted away from brutalism and into other, softer architectural styles. A major renovation plan launched in 2000, for example, changed the Infinity Quad from a bare square of asphalt to an array of planters, benches and trees. It was among these changes that the Sentinel was constructed, paying respects to the brutalism of the campus with its bare metal while at the same time being chaotic enough to differentiate itself from the architecture framing it. Despite these changes, the influence of the campus’s brutalist origins is still plain as day. Though almost half a century has gone by since it was completed, this is still the RIT campus unveiled in 1968. It may seem ugly to some, but to those who can appreciate the powerful style of brutalism, there is a beauty in the bricks. Even with the new additions, the Brick City is still brutal and sharp, still the same broad boxes; a small artificial world colored red and brown.

NOT ALL BLACK & WHITE CONNECTING MATH AND ART by Kayla Emerson | illustration by Sam Holmgren

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Overlooking the natural beauty of Yellowstone National Park, something profound occurred to Marcia Birken, a professor emeritus from RIT’s School of Mathematical Sciences. “Everybody in the group would see something; I’d see something else … these fractal patterns, these Fibonacci patterns, these geometric patterns,” she recalls. “I see the world differently than other people do: I see everything mathematically. Even when I look at a painting, I’m doing the same thing.” While her experience with mathematics helped her easily identify these mathematical patterns, Birken believes that everyone is visually drawn to them. There are traditional scholastic distinctions between visual arts and mathematics, and understandably so: mathematics serves a different purpose than art. More fundamentally, math follows a set of well-defined rules and boundaries, whereas art is “free thinking,” as Birken puts it. Andrew Davidhazy, a professor in RIT’s School of Photographic Arts and Sciences, believes that the narrow thinking of mathematics can destroy the thinking of a painter, just as the looseness of art can destroy the thinking of a mathematician. At first glance, the gulf between math and art might seem irreconcilable. But how deep is the separation between them, really? While the two fields are intrinsically distinct, artists do not necessarily forego math when creating. Neither are mathematicians forced to stare narrow-mindedly at a black and white page filled with symbols and variables. There can be creativity and structure in both. Math can be used as a tool for art, and vice versa — one does not preclude the other. In fact, when used properly and in good measure, they enhance each other. Even mathematical and artistic forms seem connected: When the aesthetics of visual art are studied, several mathematical concepts reveal themselves. In Davidhazy’s words, “You can’t separate math from art completely.” Using art can make a mathematician’s job easier. Illustration and photography are often used to aid visualization of abstract mathematics. The visual of a vibrating string is often utilized as an analogy for string theory. Our minds are wired so that we can connect the artistic concept to the mathematical abstraction. Graphical illustration is another example of art used in math, where a mathematician somehow gains a deeper understanding of how a function behaves by seeing an image of the function.

It goes both ways: using math can help an artist create. Davidhazy often works with technical photography, sometimes using projection and mapping. If he aims to create a cone-shaped image with a speciallymounted camera, there are certain mathematical relationships he must first determine in order to prevent distortion in the final image. Sans complicated camera equipment, math is still utilized in art: computer generated images are fundamentally based in mathematics. While a digital artist could hypothetically compose an image with limited mathematical knowledge, code is essentially the tool used to create all forms of digital art. Math has another important — perhaps philosophical — relationship with all forms of visual art: Everyone is drawn to mathematical patterns. As Birken has stated, people viewing art “may not be able to tell you what it is that makes [art] pleasing,” but there is often a quantitative description. The study of what makes something pleasing to the eye is aesthetics. Aesthetics, interestingly enough, often ties art to elements of mathematics. For example, a photograph of a snowcapped mountain reflected in a lake is interesting not only because of the beauty of nature, but also because of the symmetry between the shape and color of the mountain and its reflection. Another example is people’s tendency to find images most interesting when the subject is placed not in the center, but one third of the way from the left, right, top or bottom of the photo. This guideline has been dubbed the “rule of thirds.” Following the lines of the golden ratio and the golden spiral produces a similar artistic effect and is more complex, mathematically. When Davidhazy or Birken take photos, they set out to capture something beautiful or interesting. When they analyze the photos, they often find that the interesting or beautiful features are mathematical in nature. Perhaps there is something even deeper that connects math and art — their purpose, or their foundation. “Both math and art are about beauty on a very fundamental level,” says Birken. “When a mathematician does a proof, they say, ‘That was beautiful!’ [They’re] seeing the beauty in the way it worked.” A proof is not visually beautiful like a photograph, but an elegant, flowing proof can be beautiful, nonetheless. Birken also believes that “all great mathematicians are artists,” because they “pushed the boundaries,” as artists are expected to do, creating (or phrasing for the first time) mathematical forms and concepts. Davidhazy recognizes that both math and art are creative at the core, explaining that the creative mathematicians can “see relationships that others can’t, or they invent relationships.” While beautifully connected, art and math must go their separate ways. Davidhazy believes that these disciplines diverge within the individual. As connected as the two disciplines can be, it is rare to find a truly gifted artist who is also a truly gifted mathematician. But an artist who is bad at math is none the worse for it, artistically speaking. Thus, Calculus I is not, and will never be, a co-requisite for Illustration I. Neither is a mathematician who cannot appreciate visual art a bad mathematician for that reason. “Some people are able to lay bricks perfectly, while others are all thumbs,” says Davidhazy. And that’s just the way humans are.

WHEN PERCEPTION MEETS

emotion

by Stephanie Beach | photographs by Rob Shook & Joshua Kuckens

you had to choose which sense to lose, which one would it be? This is a question that is asked by many psychologists, including RITâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s Dr. Andrew Herbert, Department of Psychology Chair. When he surveys his Introduction to Psychology class, students most commonly respond that they would rather lose their hearing or their sense of smell than their sight. Art plays into this human need for visual stimuli.

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Art is able to transcend the boundaries of time. It can be found everywhere and anywhere, on the streets, in homes and even in textbooks. The reason art is so influential has more to do with the human mind than the works themselves. Humansâ&#x20AC;&#x2122; visual perception of objects, the psychology dealing with these perceptions, and their cultural backgrounds are the real masters behind the art. Artists just use these ideas to their advantage.

PHYSIOLOGY According to Herbert, humans are very visual animals. In fact, about half the neurons in the human brain are driven by visual input. The physical aspect of human visual perception in humans involves several steps, starting with the eyes. Images and wavelengths from lights travel from the eyes to the thalamus, and then to a destination in the visual cortex. When most people think about the senses, says Herbert, they get confused between sensation and perception. Sensation is more of a data-driven process, while perception is the actual physical processing of the input. Despite the universality of the human process of perception, there can still be some difference from individual to individual. Color blindness is one variance in perception that is found in humans. The most common variances, however, are found mostly in individuals who have experienced some sort of brain damage. Another area where differences in perception come from is in visual illusions. “A visual illusion,” says Herbert, “is a form of disrupted perception.” This visual disruption is what intrigues most people when it comes to the art they enjoy.

These differing views on the uses of objects in cultures also applies to art in general. In the west, art is considered a sort of luxury that one can indulge in. In many other, older cultures, art is more symbolic and important in the everyday lives of the people. For example, the Egyptians created great statues and paintings, but this was not for mere enjoyment; there was meaning behind these objects that played into their beliefs. In western culture, on the other hand, meaning is made out of the objects by the viewer to suit his own ideas and personal psychology. As Herbert says, “Once you start making judgments on stimuli, that’s where individual differences come from.” That is why so many people can find different meanings in the same work of art. The physical aspects of perception may be the same, but individuals must make some sort of judgment concerning the stimuli — in this case, art. That is when the culture and background of a person impacts the actual judgments the individual has to make. One of the other main psychological components concerning visual art involves the bilateral symmetry of the human brain. The theory is that since the human brain is bilaterally symmetric, they find other bilaterally symmetric objects pleasing to look at. That is why most styles of art have symmetrical components to them. No matter what culture, symmetry is a tactic utilized universally by artists.

ARTIST’S ADVANTAGE

PSYCHOLOGY Psychology is a very large factor in what people enjoy in art. This psychology, however, varies from culture to culture. For example, the meanings behind a given color differ greatly across the globe. In western culture the color red represents love, passion and excitement. On the other hand, red represents death and mourning in the Celtic and South African cultures. Physiologically, the color stimulates brainwave activity, which in turn increases heart rate and blood pressure. In western culture alone, colors and objects have vastly different meanings than they do elsewhere. “In western art,” says Herbert, “we are way too focused on a photorealistic representation of things.” Herbert gives the example of a table. When the western observation of table is compared to that of someone from a different culture, the analyses are quite dissimilar. The west perceives it as more of a utility, while many other cultures view it as symbolic object.

There are many ways artists exploit these different physiological and psychological components of what people enjoy. Cubism is one of the more extreme examples of this exploitation, according to one of the principles of Gestalt’s theory on visual perception. According to Gestalt, the different geometric objects in cubism are seen as a whole, instead of as individual shapes. The theory states that viewing objects this way is more pleasing to the eye, yet still stimulating to the mind. Another aspect of human psychology concerning visual perception that artists use to their advantage is the fact that humans prefer things that are recognizable and relatable to them. Known as the principle of similarity, this is another part of Gestalt’s theory. Humans feel more at ease when they are able group objects together and find something familiar in what they are viewing. Recent technological advancements of the past few years are another advantage. The camera and the computer, for example, have allowed artists to appeal even more to this need for grouping and recognizable objects. They are able to take realistic images and use them in new ways, which allows them to appeal to the human need for familiarity while still changing things to be more original. There are a vast number of different theories behind the psychology and physiology of humans’ enjoyment of art. The artists themselves are able to take these into account when creating their works. In the end, however, why humans like art comes down to the judgments they individually make on the stimuli produced from the art. So it is up to the artists to stimulate and for the individual to let their mind enjoy.

by Nilan Lovelace | photographs by Neal Danis In your hand, you hold one of the most embarrassing things you’ve seen in your life: a picture of your mom and dad before their first prom. Your dad’s wearing a powder blue tux you thought you’d only see on a really bad TV show or an even worse movie. Then you have your mom, who you barely even recognized, sporting a humongous beehive updo and wearing what very well may be the frilliest pink dress you have ever seen. At this point, you’re praying that these pictures never see the light of day again. You take a glance in the next box of memories and you fall in love. A picture of your parents, leaning on their old ‘69 Ford Mustang on a dusty road at sunset catches your eye. What more, you find an embossed wedding invitation so majestically printed and textured, there’s no way it was run off on the run-of-the-mill inkjet sitting in the study. During the last decade, these once popular techniques of print and image making have resurfaced after decades lurking underground. And with the help of apps like Instagram and the increasing availability of letterpress, the nostalgic atmosphere of the past is at your fingertips.

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Photographic Flashbacks Deeply saturated colors, overexposed flares from the sunlight and the oldtime film feel are a pretty good summary of lomography. Leningrad Optical Mechanical Amalgamation (LOMO) is the St. Petersburg-based imaging and optical company whose cameras that launched this wave of photography. “Lomographic photographs are nothing more than photography made by the conscious camera operator who wants to exploit film’s natural tendency to record optical distortions, odd angles, humorous juxtapositions and the occasional lens flare or blurry subject — just like amateur photography of the last century has given to us,” says Associate Professor of Photographic Arts Ken White. “The nostalgic appeal of unpretentious art pretexts and a delight in … naïve innocence of the spontaneous photographer” are what draw people to this photographic style. Lomography isn’t the only comeback in the world of photography. Crossprocessing, the intentional interchange of chemicals while developing photographs has been incorporated as a filter option on many digital photo editors. Unlike the accidental effects seen on lomographic photographs, cross-processing was a more professional technique which gave pictures an added sense of individuality that “is accurate in subject portrayal [and] layers on the scene a psychedelic wash of color hues and tints that seem otherworldly,” according to White. But with the increasing cost of film and digital media, manual cross-processing is becoming rarer. To garner the reemerging effects are apps such as Instagram and PhotoFx. Digitally, these apps can nearly mirror these vintage looks over and over, mistake after mistake. They can also layer effects on top of another, allowing deeper, more controlled manipulation than analog processing. Though digital filters may not be able to provide the same quality as some black and white analog images, the old style is mixing with the new photographic methods to change that.

An Ink to the Past Before the magic of laser printing and home printers, letterpress was a dominant printing technology. Crane, a reputable printing company over 200 years old describes it: “Developed in the 14th century, letterpress printing involves setting type and motifs in reverse on a letterpress plate.” Each print has its own unique variations of ink coverage and depth of impression. Each print, made individually, was a job that required a designer, compositor, castors, editors, and two people to roll and clear ink from the presses. Among the many uses of letterpress were newspapers, journals, books, and letters. Once the practical use of letterpress died out in the mid-20th century, it quickly became a craft for many middle class citizens with an affinity for design at a lower cost, according to Amelia Hugill-Fontanel, assistant curator for the Cary Graphic Arts Collection on campus. Herself a letterpress crafter, Hugill-Fontanel gave credit to the “Martha Stewart effect” for the recent skyrocket in letterpress crafting. “People want to have something that looks nice, that feels nice, and that people will want to keep over time,” says Hugill-Fontanel. “People will pay more for letterpress because what they are buying is handmade.” Curator Steven Galbraith, himself paraphrasing Steve Jobs, calls the art of letterpress “a crossroads of science and the humanities at RIT.” Galbraith says that Apple has begun to incorporate letterpress in purchasable prints that can be ordered using newer versions of the company’s iPhoto software.

Why the Comeback? White and Hugill-Fontanel both agree why these styles recycle: it’s something old that younger generations haven’t experienced. “Vintage styles will always cycle back into vogue,” says White. “[People] are always eager to re-enact something [older generations] have discarded.” The simplicity of cameras that specialize in recreating vintage effects and the use of digital editing makes it that much easier to bring the past to the present. Socially, art is used as a way to express individuality. When mixed with the boundless chances to create deeper colors, brighter lights, and relive moments like never before, the phrase “a picture says a thousand words,” proves to remain true. The same can be said about the art of letterpress. Even the most technologically advanced companies are invested in the use of letterpress, calligraphy and earlier uses of typography. Posters demand more attention. Invitations become more personal and inviting. One thing pushed beyond the peripheral is the quality of work being erected. While reconstructed analog cameras may add to the authenticity factor; or large, manual letterpresses meant to aid in mass production may be understandable, yet expensive, quick fixes; it isn’t likely that every amateur will be willing to put in the needed work to make their work look and feel vintage. “Mostly,” says White, “the new analog cameras are collectors’ items, status symbols or an entry ticket for like-minded people who can socialize and discuss their snapshots and laugh or marvel at the results.” He likens it to unique car choices. “People celebrate their quirky, fad-defining choices for transportation,” he says, “Although they … can get you to your destination just as quick as another basic car or truck.”

THE PULSE OF MUSIC

WITR.RIT.EDU 475-2271

by Zac Retz

The Creative Process

20 The Visual Arts Issue | 02.17.12

BEHIND THE MASTERS by Vasia Ivanov

Let’s be honest: we take our professors for granted. While we’re inevitably impressed with the knowledge that they can impart on us, we rarely stop to wonder what’s going on in their lives, what they aspire to or even what they have accomplished. But they came from humble beginnings, like most of us, and they pursued their dreams — and some of them even saw those dreams come true. The following is a series of profiles on not just professors, but game-changers; people who have not only had a huge influence on their fields, but have gone on to share with their students the knowledge and experience they will need for success. They were not looking for prestige or congratulations — they just wanted to change the world. And now, they want to help others change it too.

RITâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s Stop M otion M o gul TOM GASEK

What do a lump of clay, a ceramic capacitor, broken Rubikâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s Cubes and thousands of Play-Doh rabbits all have in common? To almost anyone but Tom Gasek, nothing. But if you know his work, then you know that each of these has been a focal point for the work of one of the most prolific stop motions animators in the industry. by Nick Bovee photograph by Harry Yatkowitz

22 The Visual Arts Issue | 02.17.12

top motion is a film technique in which obj e c t s or char a c te rs are p o s e d and photographed in slightly different positions, so that when the pictures are replayed at high speed, the piece appears to be in motion — think “The Nightmare Before Christmas” or those old Godzilla movies. Gasek is an assistant professor in the School of Film and Animation in CIAS, and has been steadily involved in stop motion animation and techniques for over 30 years. A graduate of RIT’s early Design program, his animation of Lewis Carrol’s “The Walrus and the Carpenter” won him a Student Academy Award in 1979, and started off his career. Although his skills have been involved in nearly every major application of stop motion, what is most striking — and immediately apparent — is that Gasek prizes his projects as an e x pre s s i on of h i s art form. His skill and passion for animation has led his career to, in his own words, “just kind of bounce all over the place.” It started at a Florida production company where he worked for several years. He could never shake his “curiosity to keep exploring,” and left Florida to work with Will Vinton, the man who trademarked the term “Claymation.” Cue decades of work with the likes of Aardman Animations, Olive Jar, Mass Illusion and two selfstarted companies. Following these years of work, Gasek began to tire of moving across the country on a yearly basis — RIT was calling. This move into teaching is only another era for Gasek, allowing him to share his wealth of knowledge with students and share his connections in an extremely close-knit community. As Gasek put it, of “80 people, I already knew 30-35 of them that I’d worked with.”

“I have a big hand in the industry,” he says. “Quite honestly, that’s the only way I like teaching, is by constantly being involved in the industry, so I can get my students involved.” Gasek speaks easily about his vast history of work, recalling the projects he’s worked on, and with who. However, he doesn’t favor any of his more high profile works, like the 2009 film “Coraline” or his work with Aardman, over his smaller commercial works. It is quite obvious that he’s still proud of each piece, remembering them for their individual merits rather than the recognition they bring. While prestigious, Gasek says that the “real fun for [him] now is creating [his] own pieces — original work.” Even with his skill in stop motion animation, for him “ [ d oi ng h i s ] ow n work has been challenging and fun.” He a ls o loves t he additional work of creating characters, which he explains is most important in any animation. His fo c us on h is ow n wor k h a s a l re a d y been personally fulfilling: he has put four years of effort into his self-funded movie, “Off-Line,” a hero’s journey featuring a tiny capacitor from a microwave, which has found some success at film festivals. Although a small part of animation overall — now dwarfed by the ubiquity of CGI techniques — Gasek feels like stop motion is in a safe place. “Maybe there was a worry at one point,” he muses. Luckily for stop motion animators and fans, time has proven that not to be the case. “Seeing a model move, or some of the imperfection inherent in the model, to get the feeling that a human hand was involved [is incredible],” he says. “We’re so inundated with CGI that sometimes just seeing something different is refreshing and fun.”

“THAT’S THE ONLY WAY I LIKE TEACHING, IS BY CONSTANTLY BEING INVOLVED IN THE

INDUSTRY, SO I CAN

GET MY STUDENTS

INVOLVED.”

M aking a Big Imp act with Small Let ters CHARLES BIGELOW & KRIS HOLMES by Nolan Harris Jr. photograph by Harry Yatkowitz

24 The Visual Arts Issue | 02.17.12

t first glance, it may not be obvious that the fonts you use to write papers or create event posters are the creation of an artist. But typographers — the people who design typefaces — enjoy the responsibility of designing sets of characters that allow us to easily navigate our systems with a legible and aesthetically pleasing font. This is the field of husband-and-wife designers Charles Bigelow and Kris Holmes, and their designs of seemingly small letters have had a profound impact in the world of visual arts and typography. Holmes and Bigelow are a titanic typographic duo: They designed the ubiquitous “Lucida” font family found on nearly every modern computer. Bigelow is a MacArthur Foundation Prize Fellow and holds a Bachelor of Arts in Anthropology from Reed College, as well as degrees from the UCLA Film School and Harvard University. Holmes — also a Reed College alum — is a graduate of Harvard University, holds a Master of Fine Arts from the UCLA Film School, and has designed more than 100 typefaces throughout her career. B oth Bigelow and Holmes studied with legendary typographer and designer Hermann Zapf when they came to RIT in 1979. Their great success started about about 30 years ago when the duo “saw that digital technology was coming to typography,” says Bigelow. “It was already there, but what we saw was that, in the early 80s, it would soon move to laser printers and computer screens … the stuff that would bring typography to millions more people.” Up to that point, if one wanted a font family designed and set, they would need to seek out professional graphic designers and typographers with the expertise and tools needed to print or produce the client’s design or document.

With their astute observations in tow, Holmes and Bigelow set out to find how they might design a font family for the new technological medium: the computer screen. Their work culminated in a novel design that was “made out of light,” as Bigelow reports, “The Latin word for light is ‘lux,’ but the rest of the words in Latin come from ‘lucid,’ meaning ‘clear, or bright, intelligent.’” A new, minimalist font family was born, and Holmes and Bigelow were well on their way to becoming pioneers

“I THINK EVERY COMPUTER IN THE

WORLD, JUST ABOUT,

adds that “every copy of Mac OSX has two Lucida Grande fonts plus Apple Chancery.” “It’s really fun to see people use [our fonts],” says Holmes. They’ve seen their work used by “Time Magazine,” they’ve encountered their work as far away as Australia and Kris has even seen her work used by the Academy Awards — the one occasion she didn’t recognize her work, “I thought, ‘wow, those are great-looking capital letters; I thought I did the best capital letters. Who’s doing these capital letters?’” Even more palpable than their professional success together is their evident personal bond. Holmes recalls their f irst encounters at Reed College: “I just thought he was this nice guy who came to class. If I had known I was going to meet the man I was going to marry, I would have fixed my hair up nice,” she says, adding, “But I didn’t. I was wearing jeans and a t-shirt.” Bigelow replies: “The inner beauty comes through even if you don’t spray your hair.” It is no wonder that they have been as successful as their track records suggest. Their partnership has produced some remarkable work in the field of typography and there is no doubt that it can be traced, in part, to their close bond: “We had plenty of time to talk about designs,” Holmes says as Bigelow immediately erupts in laughter. That Bigelow and Holmes’ work has probably crossed our eyes countless times is astounding. It has had an indelible impact on our world. Without them, the way we digitally interact with type just wouldn’t be the same.

HAS OUR DESIGNS ON IT.” of a burgeoning, digital typography industry. “It took about half a dozen years for firms to react,” according to Bigelow. However, from Lucida’s inception on, Holmes and Bigelow were able to help spawn a new digital frontier for typography. They would go on to design many other font families, like “Apple Chancery” for Apple — Holmes’ design — and they expanded Lucida’s character set to include Russian, Greek, Thai and Arabic characters. Apple and Microsoft have both licensed Lucida and other font families, and with these commercial deals, Holmes and Bigelow’s work has been distributed all over the world. “I think every computer in the world, just about, has our designs on it,” says Holmes; and Bigelow

Sustaining an Industr y DAV I D LO N G

The College of Imaging Arts and Sciences at RIT has been a model of innovation and technological advancement in its field for decades, and nowhere is this more apparent than in the collegeâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s newest major: a Bachelor of Science degree in Motion Picture Sciences (MPS). by Peter LoVerso photograph by Harry Yatkowitz

26 26The Views Visual | 02.03.12 Arts Issue | 02.17.12

he program is the brainchild of Assistant Professor David Long, who also serves as Chair for the program. Long partnered with RIT to create the program in 2006, while still working at Kodak — he signed on at RIT fulltime in 2008. “The program was one born of both creative and technical people,” says Long. “We’re attracting people who are both left-brained and right-brained, who want that satisfaction of learning on both sides of the equation.” The diversity is apparent in the program’s curriculum, which includes physics and calculus classes of the same rigor a science or engineering major would face, but also video classes taken with film and animation students. The two worlds collide in classes such as optics, image processing and image mathematics. The program remains the only one of its kind in the country; no other university has managed the same amount of crossover between art and science. The BS degrees at colleges that offer similar programs are more equivalent to RIT’s Bachelor of Fine Arts degrees, and don’t focus as much on technical aspects of the field. Along with having a major hand in the original organization of the major, Long was chosen for the position as Chair due to his unique qualifications. Prior to coming to RIT, he worked in motion picture research at Kodak for 11 years, and he has a background in engineering. His position in research and development at Kodak gave him a direct connection to major suppliers in Hollywood, and elsewhere in the film industry. Impressively, Long won a technical Academy Award in 2008 for developing Vision2 film technology, which improved over previous technologies in both image quality and color. The award was won jointly with his former team at Kodak, shortly after he joined RIT.

Long’s primary inspiration for his career path was his grandfather, a Ph.D. chemist who spent much of his life working for Campbell’s Soup, but then retired into a position at the University of Arkansas at Fayetteville. Long admired this path, and decided he also wanted to work first in the private sector, and then move into academia. Long studied Chemical Engineering at the University of Texas, and after graduation, a number of job opportunities were immediately open to him. Almost all were in the local

“THE PROGRAM WAS ONE BORN OF BOTH CREATIVE & TECHNICAL PEOPLE.”

petrochemical industry, which despite its high pay, is a job that is largely alienated from the end product and consumer, a connection that Long felt was important to him. He had one offer, however, from Kodak, which most intrigued him. He settled into the Motion Picture Research labs, which he found to be a unique mixture of art and technology. But more important, says Long, was the emotional connection that he formed through the movies he worked with. “[Movies] require deep scientific understanding, and they are continually pushing technological advancement ... this is technology responsible for direct and positive emotional connections with people. It’s technology that drives our culture and brings tremendous meaning to

many people’s lives,” he says. RIT’s MPS program is quickly becoming famous in the industry for its focus and depth. Most motion picture technicians come from a background similar to Long’s, where they majored in something different — such as chemical engineering — and then were retrained to the motion picture discipline. A specialized major gives students the chance to enter the field immediately after graduation. Despite being one of the newest majors at RIT, the program has hardware and software resources to correctly emulate most professional feature film studios, including an ARRI D-21 high definition camera, from which just one second of footage is over 300 MB. Professional film editing software and control hardware is used by the students to familiarize them with postp r o d u c t i o n w o r k f l o w. T h e program has sent its graduates to work in places such as Sony, IMAX and even the Academy of Motion Picture Arts and Sciences. The film industry in America is changing quickly. Digital technology is slowly overtaking all aspects of production, and many techniques that have been used for decades are becoming obsolete. As such, majors such as Motion Picture Sciences are important to create and maintain a robust digital film industry.

27 27

“If you do it right, it will last forever.” The Vignelli Connection by Nicole Howley

Massimo Vignelli is all around you, and you probably never knew it. Here at RIT, his presence is felt most strongly in the Vignelli Center for Design studies that shares his name. It has become a resource for the students of the College of Imaging Arts and Sciences and a potential asset to the rest of the students of RIT. His work does not pretend to be elaborate or complicated. That is not Vignelli’s definition of good design. Instead, his designs focus on combining aesthetics with function, allowing them to appeal to a much larger audience than just the art world. For instance, Vignelli’s work has been viewed by anyone who has visited New York City. In 1966, he designed the signs and maps for the New York City subway. Although the maps have been replaced, the signs have remained the same ever since. Vignelli believes that “the life of a designer is a life of fight; fight against the ugliness.” And even though his subway signs are considered attractive to the point where people buy them as decoration for their homes, aesthetics are only a small factor of his designs’ success. These signs are clear, sleek and simple. Their main function is to tell people where to go to get to where they want to be. That they combat ugliness is secondary to their function.

Even if you haven’t been to the Big Apple, you have seen a Vignelli design. Have you ever been to an airport? He designed the American Airlines logo in 1967 and it is still in use today. What about a mall? The Bloomingdales store logo and even their big brown bags were designed by Vignelli 40 years ago. Vignelli has made lasting impressions with these desig ns, which is a feat i n itself but is far f rom his only accomplishment. He has co-founded four successful design firms. His work ha s been d isplayed i n well-k now n museums throughout the world. He has also won an abundance of prestigious awa rd s for h is desig ns a nd ea r ned multiple Honorary Doctorates from many prestigious design schools, including RIT. It was the work of R. Roger Remington, who has a close friendship with Vignelli and is the Massimo and Lella Vignelli Disting uished Professor of Desig n here at RIT, responsible for bringing Vignelli’s work to campus. Remington had been creating an archive of Modernist American graphic designers’ work for RIT for 25 years and in 2008, Vignelli added his entire body of work to the collection. “It was logical that his work be with that of his outstanding peers,” says Remington. “The challenge was that his work is so extensive over a 50 year career

that it required its own building.” So, in 2010, the Vignelli Center for Design Studies was built. To say that Vignelli was anything short of prolific would be an understatement; he has designed everything from watches to rooms. Although the rooms themselves have not been moved to RIT, his body of work in the Vignelli Center serves as a resource for the students who are interested in it. Vignelli’s career did not just consist of g raph ic, i nter ior a nd i ndust r ial designs; it also included the creation of successf ul ma rket i ng st rategies a n d s u c c e s sf u l b u s i n e s s e s . M o s t importantly, he has created something t i meless; somethi ng that ever y ambitious student could learn from.

WORD ON THE STREET

illustrated edition WHAT WOULD A STATUE OF YOU BE MADE OF?

illustrations by Dan Alsheimer

30 The Visual Arts Issue | 02.17.12

“GOLD” Raymond Ramirez, first year Business.

“DARK CHOCOLATE” Samuel Baciuc, fifth year Automation Technology

“THERMITE” Brian Rosenberger, fifth year Electrical Engineering

4 “CHEESE” McKenzie Clark, first year 3D Digital Graphics

“ROCK CANDY” Britta Moberg, first year Graphic Design

“BACON” Sam Cannon, second year Fine Art Photography

6 5

13 31

information in increasingly controlled, it remains an honest, if somewhat crude, medium that has the potential to produce a meaningful dialogue. Like much of the rest of the art world, there are gems hidden on bathroom walls; you just have to look past a few dicks to find them. Bathroom graffiti, in some form or another, dates back to the dawn of recorded history. When archaeologists unearthed Pompeii, they were shocked to discover a rudimentary form of this scribbling carved into the stone of bars and public baths. The content was shockingly similar to its modern counterpart: strong language, tales of sexual experience and — of course — phallic imagery. Clearly, little has changed over the course of several millennia, except for one thing: according to an article by Smithsonian magazine, graffiti was publicly accepted in Pompeii. While ignored by centuries of researchers, according to the same article, it has recently been of interest for one simple reason — it shows a portrait of ordinary people. This lasting power may be the result of graffiti’s role as an outlet for human thought. Last August, author Michael Lopp (@rands on Twitter) tweeted “Raise your hand if 90 percent of your friends would be shocked if they could hear your inner monologue.” It was a message I found strikingly accurate. The thought is an imperfect medium: Within the flow, we’re impulsive, judgmental and immature. As humans, we’re far from perfect; we lie, err and cheat. Not every thought going through our minds is pure. Over time, the human mind has developed a frontal lobe, which regulates our actions. Yet this doesn’t impede the flow of thoughts, merely our impulse to act on them. In a way, this makes the need for an outlet even greater. Ethically bound self-expression is an important privilege, and bathroom graffiti provides a reasonable venue for this. Just because some of the content lacks merit does not mean that the medium does. Bathroom graffiti isn’t the prettiest. But it doesn’t have to be; bad art is still art. Not every person with a shiny new DSLR is taking iconic pictures, nor is everyone with an easel drawing breathtaking portraits. The stall adds an element of vigilantism to art. It’s like a collaborative art gallery where anyone can join in and everyone’s work is always on display. And if the crowd objects to a submission, it only takes a few pen strokes to make the work their own. While graffiti outside the bathroom on cars or building walls can cause problems, the bathroom is a much more appropriate location. If you’re afraid of seeing genitals by Alex Rogala | illustration by Justyn Iannucci in a bathroom stall, here’s a tip: Don’t look down. I’m not saying bathroom graffiti is the most profound art the world ast fall, in an effort to curb bathroom graffiti, RITwill ever see. Far from it — it’s important to note that, as vandalism, installed a whiteboard in the Wallace Center (WAL,bathroom graffiti is a crime. There are consequences. For RIT’s stall 05) basement men’s room. While it was a noble effortsketchers willing to accept the risk, I’d recommend a sparser form of at a compromise, the initiative failed. Rather thangraffiti. Drop the dicks and create more meaningful content on a lessusing the whiteboard, people began writing around its edges until,frequent basis. Regardless of what we think, bathroom graffiti isn’t going one day, it vanished. anywhere. And that just may be okay; after a few thousand years, it just For me, the incident cast a great deal of light on the spirit of bathroommay be the last bastion for our freedom of expression. graffiti. While some consider it an eyesore, I say it’s a respectable form of art. Often immature, graphic and amateur, bathroom graffiti is The opinions expressed are solely those of the author and do not reflect raw, unfiltered self-expression in its own right. And in an age where the views of REPORTER.

Sketching their Souls L

32 The Visual Arts Issue | 02.17.12

Shit Belongs In The Toilet by Juan Madrid | illustration by Justyn Iannucci hat exactly is art? This is one of the timeless questions that mankind has posed unto itself. The easiest answer (which I consider to be a cop-out) is that it means something different to everyone. While it is true that an actual work of art can carry different meanings for different people, all art has two basic components: form and content. As mankind has progressed, art has changed; eventually artists displayed work outside of galleries and museums to explore new ideas. But even with this expanded definition, can the graffiti that litters the walls of bathroom stalls truly be considered art? Not only is it assuredly not good art, but its lack of a specific form and content should categorize it as stream-of-conscious doodling rather than art. Something doesn’t have to be good to be considered art. However, the immature renderings of penises and racist remarks that adorn the walls of bathroom stalls can hardly be classified as anything other than crude graffiti. Form (referring to techniques, styles, and design elements) plays little part in these simplistic illustrations and scrawled sentences. There is no single style, though it is often sexual, rude or referential of popular culture in some way. This makes the event of creating the graffiti more of a pastime than an artistic endeavor. Bathroom graffiti takes no notice of technique or design elements, usually being created on whatever space on the wall the creator chooses. One key aspect to consider is whether the people who create this graffiti consider the space they’re working within. Does the location of the “artwork” further its content? Taken in that context, one could potentially make art out of the act of graffiti in bathrooms; this is where intent and content become vital. Without intent behind it, how can anything be judged as art? If an artist doesn’t set out to create art as a meaningful method of communicating something, it doesn’t have a point. Consider Marcel Duchamp’s “Fountain.” Duchamp merely took a urinal and signed it “R. Mutt.” However, Duchamp successfully brought up very important issues in the art world: authorship, aesthetics, and duplicity. He questioned what types of things could actually be considered art, all while remaining humorous. Bathroom graffiti doesn’t need to be quite so conceptual, but there is no intent of bringing up any important ideas. It instead shows a denigrating society that accepts these small acts of vandalism as a part of everyday life. Bathroom graffiti is nothing more than a crime against the sanctity of the bathroom. The bathroom is intended to be a private space for private matters; simply because a bathroom is in a public space does not mean it becomes a forum for these cries for attention. Most of the attempts at “art” are nothing more than recycled jokes or crude sexual drawings aiming to elicit a cheap laugh. This brings up intent again; invading

private/public spaces can be artistic but it’s the methods and reasoning behind the act that dictates whether or not it should be considered art. Bathroom graffiti isn’t some valiant effort to transcend a formula that has been set in stone. Drawing or writing a random thought without a care for artistic tradition (or the knowledge needed to break that tradition) does not result in art, but rather a reflection of an unfiltered mind that lacks substance. And therein lies the basic point of why bathroom graffiti is not art – it settles for the most basic operation possible — both mechanically and conceptually — without considering how it could actually convey meaning. Instead, it is the very act of bathroom graffiti that produces interesting food for thought. Why do we as a population feel compelled to write or draw horrendous, stupid, useless things on the walls of restrooms? It could be an anonymous cry for attention but it is certainly not art. Quasi-art? Maybe. A form of communication? Certainly. But giving the graffiti that defiles restrooms everywhere the title of art devalues exactly what art strives to be. The opinions expressed are solely those of the author and do not reflect the views of REPORTER.

585 672 4839 compiled by Victor Group All calls subject to editing and truncation. Not all calls will be run. REPORTER reserves the right to publish all calls in any format.

MONDAY, 9:33 AM

WEDNESDAY, 10:18 AM

WEDNESDAY, 11:52 AM

Why does building 7A smell like bacon this morning? Or better question: Why does it not always smell this way? (from text)

If I hear someone play another goddamned video game song on the SAU piano, I’m gonna hurt someone. (from text)

Every time the chapel church bells go off I start rocking out to “Hell’s Bells”. (from text)

FRIDAY, 3:47 PM

WEDNESDAY, 6:42 PM

THURSDAY, 3:41 PM

Hey Rings, I’d like to hire you to be my voice of reason. Deciding to go to Data Analysis over staying with the puppies was a poor choice. (from text)

Hey Rings, it’s February! Which means the gyms are finally back to normal occupancy now that all the new years resolutions have been trashed. (from text)

Just saw a guy stomp down the hall while humming the

THURSDAY, 9:35 PM

WEDNESDAY, 11:01 PM

SATURDAY, 2:59 AM

What if vaginas had tongues? Interesting or disgusting? (from text)

I just got out of an elevator that was full of hot chicks. I’ll consider that a rare feat here at RIT. (from text)

Rings! I want to go to bed, but I ordered Zonies! I have a moral obligation to fulfill! What do I do?! (from text)

34 The Visual Arts Issue | 02.17.12

“Imperial March”

music from “Star Wars.” I belong here. (from text)

Reporter, badass and stylish.