�e magazine of the Columbia Spectator 26 March 2009 / vol. 6 issue 7
the eye
Corps Curriculum from the battlefield to the classroom by John McClelland a rebirth of linguistics at columbia? \\\ roald dahl’s granddaughter makes her debut \\\ laptop chic
Editor-in-Chief �omas Rhiel Managing Editor, Features Melanie Jones Managing Editor, A & E Hillary Busis Deputy Editor, Features Raphael Pope-Sussman Senior Design Editor Meredith Perry Photo Editor Kristina Budelis Online Editors Ryan Bubinski Laura Torre Eyesites Editor Carla Vass Contributing Ideas Editor Jia Ahmad Interview Editor Zach Dyer Film Editor Peter Labuza Music Editor Rebecca Pattiz Books Editor Yin Yin Lu Food Editor Devin Briski
CORPS LETTER FROM THE EDITOR CURRICULUM An Army medic turned GS student describes his relocation from the battlefield to the classroom, pg. 07. by John McClelland cover photo by Alyssa Rapp
Art Editor Hannah Yudkin �eater Editor Ruthie Fierberg Dance Editor Catherine Rice
FEATURES \\\ EYESITES 03 Carnaval Ted Griswold
TV Editor Christine Jordan
04 Bringing Linguistics to CU Philip Crone
Style Editor Helen Werbe
05 �e View From Here Briana Fasone
Production Associates Samantha Ainsley Alexander Ivey Talia Sinkinson Shaowei Wang
\\\ EYE TO EYE 06 Multi-Artsing Melanie Jones
Copy Editors Wesley Birdsall Katrin Nusshold Spectator Editor-in-Chief Melissa Repko Spectator Managing Editor Elizabeth Simins Spectator Publisher Julia Feldberg Contact Us: eye@columbiaspectator.com eye.columbiaspectator.com Editorial: (212) 854-9547 Advertising: (212) 854-9558 © 2009 �e Eye, Spectator Publishing Company, Inc.
ARTS \\\ MUSIC 11 Maybe �ey’re Crazy Ruthy Sher
When I started writing these introductory notes at the beginning of the semester, I promised myself that if one week the Muse of Letters from the Editor didn ’t come to me with an idea that could express itself in 300 to 400 words, I would absolutely, positively not resort to that most pathetic of fallbacks: a self-important account of my struggle to find inspiration. I’m going to break that rule this week, although not purely out of desperation. For me, a creative spirit is sometimes almost impossible to muster when my most immediate concerns— essays due, internships to apply for, sleep debt to catch up on—have such a strong grasp on my thoughts. And so, in the few hours before the Eye is sent off to the printer’s, I often riffle through my cache of personal fascinations to come up with some Letter from the Editor material. (An incredibly astute reader who knows me well—my mom, perhaps—will have noticed that I’ve written one letter about David Foster Wallace, one about Barack Obama,
and two about graphic design—all favorite topics of mine.) I don’t think I’m the only one susceptible to this kind of myopia, either. For all the efforts of the editors at both the Eye and the Spectator to appeal to a wide and diverse audience, the tone and focus of these publications can’t help but reflect the concerns of a relatively small group of people with a finite set of interests. For this reason, I’m encouraged by the fact that the author of this week’s lead story, GS student John McClelland, is an outsider to the relatively insulated Spectator bubble. Likewise, I’m excited by this issue’s inauguration of “�e View From Here,” a page dedicated to creative expressions—short stories, personal essays, graphic narratives, or anything printable, really—of personal experiences at Columbia. �e more the Eye can supplement the predilections of its editors (myself very much included) with perspectives from the broader student body, the better. —�omas Rhiel
\\\ BOOKS 12 Shooting From the Side Elizabeth Keene 13 �e Story of Sophie Dahl Gizem Orbey \\\ ART 14 Contemporary Conundrum Valeriya Safronova \\\ STYLE 15 Technology’s New “It” Bag Lindsay Weaver
Submit your creative writing to the Eye. We are now accepting short stories, narrative non-fiction, and humorous essays. For more information, e-mail eye@columbiaspectator.com.
THE EYE ABROAD
EDITORS’ TEN
1. I traveled to sunny, sunny Florida to lie by the pool and read books to my heart’s content. —Ruthie Fierberg, �eater Editor 2. I had exploration time in NYC! (And DC, briefly) —Devin Briski, Food and Drink Editor
TEXT AND PHOTO BY TED GRISWOLD �e good people of the northeastern United States would never stand for a holiday as inescapably, unavoidably, and comprehensively... wet, as the five-day celebration of Carnaval in Ecuador. Each Latin American country prides itself for its own Carnaval customs, and most include massive parades with colorful floats, lavish costumes, entire schools dedicated to samba dancing, and a clear influence from local indigenous traditions. In Ecuador, however, the most notable practices hail from a pre-colonial tradition in which the Huarangas Indians would throw flour, flowers, and scented water to celebrate the second full moon of the year. Today, these “games” manifest themselves as general mayhem in cities and towns nationwide, where people of all ages and types take to the streets to assault their fellow citizens with water balloons, buckets, water guns, bags of flour, and espuma, a dyed foam they spray from pressurized canisters. My first true Carnaval experience took place during a 45-minute bus ride from the colonial city of Cuenca to a pueblo called Gualaceo. Famous for its annual riverside holiday bash, the small industrial Gualaceo attracts bus upon overcrowded bus full of families from nearby cities and towns to eat, dance, and sing, but first and foremost to “play” Carnaval. Having arrived late to the terminal, my group of about 15 North American students and our Ecuadorian host siblings crammed into the middle aisle of the bus, to make space for others who would join us for the windy journey through the mountains. Knowing that the H2O attacks would begin immediately when we dismounted in Gualaceo, nearly all passengers were prepared with their preferred type of water-weapon loaded and ready. In hindsight, seeing as it was a tight space full of toddlers, youth, adults, and elderly folk, all armed to the teeth with instruments of mischief, it seems inevitable that an incident would occur, but at the time I doubt anyone saw it coming. It all started when an elementary school-aged boy leaned over the seat in front of him with the intention of shooting at his older sister, who was sitting unaware two rows ahead. Unfortunately, the shot missed and hit a young woman from our program in a seat near the unsuspecting sister. �e study abroad student looked around with a vengeance to see who had taken the shot, and since I was holding my water pistol, decided to shoot at me. I shot back, and when other children saw what was happening, they joined in the fight. In a matter of seconds, the entire bus erupted into an all-out battle. Tufts of white, yellow, blue, and red espuma floated through the air, covering seats,
What did you do over Spring Break?
EYESITES
Every Man for Himself: Carnaval
3. I visited the mystical land of Chappaqua, New York—I spotted a unicorn, but the elusive Clinton family was, unfortunately, nowhere to be found. —Melanie Jones, Managing Features Editor 4. I stayed at the Penthouse Suite at the New York Hilton to staff the 35th annual National High School Model United Nations Conference ... pretty effing sweet. �ey filmed American Gangster and some scenes from Notorious here. —Yin Yin Lu, Books Editor
windows, and faces. An old woman in the front opened a large bag of flour and began caking it on anyone she could reach. �e fight lasted about 10 minutes, until finally everyone’s supply of water, espuma, and flour had been discharged onto their neighbors. �e inside of the bus was drenched, and covered with bubbles and flour, but not once did the bus driver attempt to stop the celebration. At first I was offended when, while walking on the sidewalk in Gualaceo or Cuenca, a pick-up truck full of kids and their parents sped by and nailed me with five or six water balloons; but soon I realized that all the soaking, spraying, and flouring was a strange expression of unity. By the last day of Carnaval, when a group of men chased me down a city block to dump buckets of water over my head, I actually felt happy to be included in the festivities. Despite all the strange idiosyncrasies of Carnaval in Ecuador, the most bizarre aspect for me was that people of all ages and backgrounds join in the goofiness. Grandmothers and grandchildren, city folk and townspeople, all take part. I cannot think of a holiday in the United States that produces such playful interaction between strangers of various social strata. Many of our celebrations are religious or apply only to certain groups, and do not actively unite populations that are typically segregated. Carnaval started as a last chance to celebrate before Catholics began to observe Lent, a solemn period of fasting and prayer, but it has evolved into a nearly secular celebration. Many Ecuadorians do not even seem to know the semireligious origins of the festival. Regardless of religious connotations, I know what to do when I return to the United States. I plan to show my love for my parents, friends, neighbors, and relatives by ambushing them with water balloons. Ted Griswold is a Columbia College junior currently studying in Ecuador.
5. I pretty much eschewed the traditional, raucous, college spring break. I was in NY and DC and stayed (mostly) sober. —Carla Vass, Eyesites Editor 6. I went to Miami with the sailing team for our training trip and met up with other Columbia friends who were also there. I got crazy tan lines (think life-jacket and sailing gloves), had my first taste of Taco Bell, and won a wall sit contest (8 mins, 20 secs!) Like all other holidays, it was much too short. —Helen Werbe, Style Editor 7. I put my parents’ conveniently about-to-expire frequent flier miles to good use and flew to Miami with a few friends. We saw Hulk Hogan, ate delicious Cuban food, danced, lounged around, and got decidedly sun-kissed. It was everything spring break should be. —Kristina Budelis, Photo Editor 8. I took the Seven train from Flushing-Main Street to Court Square, transferred above ground to the G at Court House Square, then caught the L at the Metropolitan Avenue-Lorimer Street Station. I made it to first Avenue in under 30 minutes. —Raphael Pope-Sussman, Deputy Features Editor 9. I witnessed the terror of the Asian longhorned beetle in central Massachusetts. —Zach Dyer, Interview Editor 10. My dog recently died, so I spent spring break variously thinking about the void, the fragility of childhood memories, and the intoxicating allure of puppy pictures on the Internet. —�omas Rhiel, Editor-in-Chief
COMPILED BY CARLA VASS
03
IDEAS
THE VIEW FROM HERE / ESSAY
EYESITES
Concept drawing of the Homo floresiensis.
BY PHILIP CRONE IMAGE COURTESY OF POPULAR MECHANICS
“I have a general theory that some languages are much less complex than others,” John McWhorter explains, “which goes against a kind of gospel that was created at this university that states that all languages are equally complex. That notion comes from work done here by Franz Boas, the anthropologist, in the late 19th century.” McWhorter, a linguist and recent addition to the faculty of Columbia University, is one of the many distinguished linguistics professors involved in the university’s once-illustrious department of linguistics. Yet, Columbia has been without a formal linguistics department since 1989. In addition to overturning some of the work done by Franz Boas, McWhorter hopes to lend his assistance in reconstructing a linguistics department at Columbia. The linguistics program at Columbia has become more fully developed since the special concentration in linguistics was approved in 2006. This spring, Hyun Young Kim and Matt Clements will be the first Columbia College students to graduate with a major in linguistics since the ’80s. Alan Timberlake, the current head of Columbia’s linguistics program, petitioned the university administration to allow for a general major in linguistics late in 2007, due to growing student interest, but the request was rejected because the future sustainability of the program was doubtful. Nevertheless, the program continued to attract student interest, and the possibility of developing a full major or department in the future is not out of the question. Though he finds nothing particularly wrong with the current situation, Timberlake notes that Columbia “could have a decent purely undergraduate program by making two faculty appointments.” For now, the program is holding off on making any appointments, in part because of constrained funding due to the current economic crisis. One potential appointment is McWhorter, who previously held a tenured position at University of California, Berkeley, and specializes in creoles and pidgin languages. In fall 2008, McWhorter received an adjunct position through the Harriman Institute, and will teach a lecture on sociolinguistics in fall 2009. McWhorter is more forceful than Timberlake in his indictment of the current status of linguistics at Columbia, declaring that “a real university in 2009 has a department or at least a very strong program dedicated to the scientific study of language.” McWhorter is anxious to lend his assistance in expanding the offerings and opportunities of the linguistics program, in
04
EYESITES
Bringing Linguistics to Columbia
Welcome to our brand new page, “�e View From Here.” We’ve had some wonderful (and yes, sometimes cringe-worthy) humor over the years, but since the Eye is unfortunately lacking in good, old-fashioned, student submissions, we decided it’d be refreshing to hear from those of you who spend some time outside the Spectator offices. From now on, View will showcase student perspectives on any topic relevant to Columbia students, expressed in a variety of ways: we’ll be publishing cartoons, short fiction and non-fiction stories, as well as personal essays. I hope you enjoy the new section, and if you like it, or you think you can write much better, please send your submissions to eye@columbiaspectator.com. We look forward to hearing from you! —Carla Vass, Eyesites Editor
�e Miseducation of Briana Fasone BY BRIANA FASONE ILLUSTRATION BY REBEKAH KIM
part because he hopes that a new department would be well-poised to address some of the issues he is currently studying. The faculty members and students in the program that exists now have shown a strong aptitude for linguistic research, most of it with a sociological or anthropological bent. Faculty member Boris Gasparov is working on a book that argues for idioms and stock phrases as the basis for creativity in language. Kim has used her linguistics training to do research abroad, studying regional varieties of Arabic in Egypt. McWhorter’s current research fits in well with the sociological and anthropological emphasis of Columbia linguistics. He hopes to demonstrate that some languages are less complex than others, and that this phenomenon does not occur by accident, by focusing on a species of early humans known as Homo floresiensis. Discovered in 2003 on the island of Flores, the diminutive Homo floresiensis skeletons were immediately likened to the hobbits of J. R. R. Tolkien’s Middle-earth. Some researchers believe that despite their small size—average males likely stood around 3’7” tall—and limited cranial capacity, members of the species demonstrated complex behavior, including the use of language.
The status of Homo floresiensis is controversial, with some scientists even disputing that they represent a distinct species. McWhorter, however, is more interested in suggestions that these creatures survived until fairly modern times—recently enough, he believes, to have had a lasting impact on the languages currently spoken on the island of Flores. He has noticed that the languages spoken on the perimeter of the island are all relatively complex, while those spoken near the places where the Homo floresiensis remains were found possess some of the simplest grammatical machineries he has ever seen. McWhorter’s hypothesis is that the “hobbits” were linguistically substandard. They simplified the languages of the island and became the model for how those languages are spoken in parts of Flores today. McWhorter’s hypothesis may never be proved, but he remains hopeful that more research will confirm his position and that these discoveries will help introduce linguistics to the general public. As interest grows, he and others, such as professors Timberlake and Gasparov, hope that Columbia University will once again allow students to translate that interest into a degree. a
Henry Adams didn’t think much of his Harvard education. In 1907, he penned �e Education of Henry Adams, and, writing in third person, said, “�e four years passed at college were, for his purposes wasted...He did not want to be one in a hundred – one per cent of an education. He regarded himself as the only person for whom his education had value, and he wanted the whole of it.” As I reflected on my one year of a Bostonian education—at Boston College—I thought: If Henry thought Harvard was a waste, I can’t imagine what he would have said about college now. A century after Adams wrote of his education, I commenced the most important stage of my education—at Harvard’s Jesuit afterthought. Boston College had been a top choice for this Choate graduate and, though I was eager for the next phase of parentless schooling, I disregarded universities like Columbia and NYU as being too urban, too alternative. I was looking for the real “college experience,” one that a campus school supposedly offered. As I recall, the late summer of 2007 was a time of great anticipation, as I pictured what my next four years in Chestnut Hill would be like. (It should be noted that Boston College, contrary to its deceptive name, is not only outside the city of Boston but is also not even a college—it’s technically a university.) By the end of my first month, I was completely disillusioned. I knew things weren’t quite right as early as orientation when I discovered that my freshman adviser was, in fact, a nun. She didn’t wear a habit, but I thought it best to withhold the fact that I once dressed as a pregnant mother superior for Halloween. When I complained to my father about Boston College admissions having “tricked me” into thinking the school was not very religious, he told me that a little traditionalism might be good for me after four years at a liberal New England prep school. �e real breaking point, however, occurred during the homecoming football game at Boston College’s Alumni Stadium or, as I half-jokingly call it, the ninth circle of hell. For over three hours, I stood in a sea of mustard yellow “Super Fan” tee shirts and watched Boston College beat Wake Forest University in the most anticlimactic moment of my life. �ere, among the wasted students slurring the lyrics to “I’m Shipping Up to Boston,” I feared that
my college education would be wasted too. I went to one more game, just to prove that I wasn’t being a pretentious, pseudo-intellectual New York snob. But I couldn’t take any more of it, and I sold my season tickets to a 40-something-year-old father of three who preferred standing in the student section (with the female students, I imagine). And so every Saturday afternoon, when crowds of yellow clad, blacked-out students ritually headed to the circle, I relished in the silence of Claver dormitory and watched episodes of 30 Rock on my laptop. And I longed for New York. To be fair, it wasn’t merely the football games or the subsequent freshman beer-fests (I can’t get myself to refer to them as “parties”) that turned me off at Boston College. It wasn’t even Boston College itself. It was, rather, the obligation to have the normal “college experience”—the experience I thought I was supposed to want—that was the source of my discontent. For the most part—and I preface all my conclusions about college with “for the most part”—students at schools like Boston College often strive to be a part of the Super Fan cult. And to be Super Fan, you go to class, you possibly join an organization, and you certainly attend the football or basketball games and the subsequent dormitory gatherings— and you enjoy it all, or pretend to at least.
�ere’s nothing wrong with being a Super Fan. I have friends at Duke and Michigan and Boston College (at least I did before this article) who enjoy the routine of campus life and wouldn’t want to experience college any other way. But I was never a Super Fan and, for me, being one meant sacrificing individuality—being one in a hundred. So when I ran out of 30 Rock episodes on those Saturday afternoons in Chestnut Hill, I began working on my transfer applications to the schools I had formerly disregarded. I wanted nothing to do with the “college experience.” I wanted out of the cult. And I saw New York—particularly, Barnard College—as being the vehicle through which I could escape, and eventually discover what being an individual even means. And being a Barnard student, affiliated with Columbia University, in the city of New York, has largely allowed me to do just that. �ere are few, if any, Super Fans here. �ere are many flavors of Kool-Aid to try. �ere is no one “college experience.” Sure, this realization is not news to anyone in the Columbia universe. But, it is something I have come to appreciate even more during this season of March Madness, when I turn on the television and see crowds of Super Fans participating in their rituals. At this point, I’ll usually watch an episode of 30 Rock. a
05
EYE TO EYE
Multi-Artsing melanie jones interviews katrina steinmetz BY MELANIE JONES PHOTO COURTESY OF KEPIANDKAT.COM
Katrina Steinmetz is not one to settle down. Now living in San Francisco, California, she and husband Jeff worked for Microsoft before a singing lesson bloomed into a dance music career. With her husband as accompanying DJ Kepi, the group Kepi and Kat have become a West Coast staple in the dance-club and outdoor-festival scene for six years and were voted “Best Electronic Music Act” in the Bay Area for two years running. �ey’ve headlined across the United States and performed internationally at the dance music world capital of Ibiza, Spain and the Diversity Festival in Canada. With their debut EP “Limelight” featured in the Xbox 360 game “Perfect Dark Zero,” the two have branched out from music to the world of fashion, with Steinmetz modeling and working as a makeup artist and her husband photographing. Melanie Jones talks with Steinmetz about the growth of dance music, holding down multiple jobs, and why she’s creeped out about “settling down.”
You and Kepi have both had multiple jobs over the years and continue to hold many today, from makeup art to photography to DJing. Do you feel like you’d ever be happy settled down with one? What are some of the greatest advantages and disadvantages of having multiple, higher risk jobs? I really love having many interests and multiple outlets for my creativity and mind to develop, so I don’t plan on ever having just one “job” and in fact I really never have. From a young age, I’ve always had lots of interests and been very involved in life...I love challenging myself to learn new things, it keeps me young and it sure makes life fun and exciting! For the most part, I feel it’s an advantage for me to have multiple jobs and interests. I like diversifying and multiplying my possibilities and opportunities and it makes me very flexible to
06
change. When one area of my life is in a lull or a down phase in activity, than another area picks up and becomes more active. I like to feel inspired all the time and living my life this way allows me to do that. I know Kepi feels the same way. �e only disadvantage is that sometimes my many interests/jobs can start competing for the same time (unfortunately there is only so much time in a day...dang it!) and if I’m not super conscious of keeping my life balanced I can get overwhelmed and stressed out. I have done a lot of learning and development around keeping a really good balance in life and staying very present – it’s the key to living this kind of lifestyle and why it’s not for everyone. And I hope we never “settle down”... that phrase creeps me out! One of your other jobs is a professional makeup artist, and Kepi is a noted photographer. Do you feel there’s any separation between your work in music and in fashion? All of the jobs and interests we have influence and feed off of each other. Each new thing we become involved in opens doors to other opportunities and networks and so on and so on. I think fashion and music are quite closely linked and always have been; they both feed off and drive each other. Fashion, music and the arts are what make life exciting and inspire the culture - they’re flashy, fun, and filled with wild personalities. It’s no different for us and the work we do. Dance music is usually seen as restricted to clubs, often boxed into the umbrella term “electronica”. Is dance starting to branch out more? How has the genre changed? I think electronic and dance music has definitely branched out quite a bit over the last ten years. Pop stars like Madonna and Justin Timberlake have made it much more mainstream and have put out whole dance-themed albums and remixes. People like Britney Spears and Kylie Minogue are winning Grammy awards in the Dance categories (which is kind of annoying for all of us “indy” dance and electronic artists...we want to say “hey pop bitches, step away from our categories and stay in your own!”). Dance/electronic artists like Moby and Fatboy Slim have licensed many of their tracks for big commercials and movies. “Limelight” has gotten play across the West Coast, and has even popped up on the East. What’s it like to walk into a store and hear your song playing? “Limelight” has been a very magical song for us - it’s the very first song we ever wrote together and started from a dream that Kepi had. It’s been played all over the world in clubs, stores, and on the radio... A friend of mine called me from a Victoria’s Secret in Seattle in 2006 and was so excited to tell me that our song was playing. We
were thrilled and figured it was just that particular store. I happened to be at the main San Francisco Victoria’s Secret store in Union Square that same week and was trying something on when I suddenly heard “Limelight” playing. I burst out of the dressing room half dressed and started telling the woman who worked there (and anyone else that happened to be standing around), “this is me singing!” �e store manager was more excited than I was. What inspires your songs? Do you start with lyrics or with the beat? I usually start with the music and then write the lyrics. I’m inspired by all sorts of things on any given day. Listening to the music usually gives me a feeling or a sense and then I start writing from that place. Kepi writes and produces the music and I write the lyrics and perform the vocals. We work very well in that way. “Limelight” was featured in the Xbox game Perfect Dark Zero. Do you plan to continue working in the gaming industry? Yes, Kepi is currently working on the latest version of the game “Rock Band,” designing the in-game play for “Rock Band Unplugged.” And now that you’ve made a name for yourself on the West Coast (and played internationally) do you picture yourself tackling NYC anytime soon? We’d love to play in NYC, but we don’t really have any solid connections there and in the music/club industry it’s all about connections and who you know. But we’d love to play NYC if we get enough of a fan base on the East Coast for someone to book us. We are currently talking with a London-based DJ and producer who is putting together a US tour and is interested in including us...that would be very exciting! Most artists assemble a full CD and tour regionally to develop fans, but you’ve managed to make a huge amount of progress with your EP “Limelight” as the focal point. Is this something that’s unique to dance music, where word of mouth can help generate a lot of buzz? How much has the internet played into your success? It seems pretty unique to dance music for a single and/or remixes to be the primary focal point. Word of mouth, licensing, and top DJs playing the single in clubs are the primary source for dance music to get buzz, which is different from most genres, even pop. The internet is a huge source for our success as well as lots of other artists. We don’t do a physical distribution of our music; it’s all through download sites(like iTunes, our websites, urgeproductions.com and kepiandkat.com, and social networking sites like MySpace. We also use all of those avenues for promotion. Will you continue to produce singles (like your new song “Now I Know”?) or do you plan to put out a CD in the near future? Currently, we don’t have specific plans to put out a full length CD, but that could change. Music, fashion and the arts will always be a part of our lives... We are in love with beauty and creativity and it’s a constant source of inspiration and fun for us. a
Corps Curriculum by John McClelland photos by Alyssa Rapp and Malya Schulman
To get to school, I walk the hill—along Columbus Avenue and up Morningside Drive. Past joggers, panhandlers, and pedestrians. Two years ago, I walked another hill. �at hill did not overlook Harlem, but some faceless, nameless valley in southeastern Afghanistan. Instead of grand, deciduous trees, there were shrubs struggling to grow in rocky, alkaline soil. Textbooks and coursereaders were replaced with weapons, ammo, and armor. �e weight strains your shoulders the same, your breath is lost the same.
IN FOCUS
I arrived, expecting a general hostility to the military. An unpopular war raged; the debate over ROTC was locked in stalemate. But in my first few months here, I began to see that Columbia’s history with the military was far more complex than I’d imagined. Columbians today know little about this school’s long, symbiotic relationship with the armed forces. For much of the 20th century, Columbia positioned itself as a steadfast partner of and advocate for the American military. When the United States entered World War I in 1917, Nicholas Murray Butler, president of Columbia and consummate politician, announced that he wanted Columbia to be “a part of the apparatus of the government of the United States for the preparation and training of men to carry on that war.” �at Columbia would serve as an organ of the state is difficult for students of our generation to imagine. Yet some of this school’s most hallowed traditions are vestiges of that jingoistic past. In light of Butler’s diktat, the University instituted
new policies designed to prepare students for military service. Some you may recognize—mandatory physical education classes for first-years and sophomores, a swim test, a nutrition program at the University Restaurant “bound up with the extension of physical training,” even a psychological test as an alternative form of admission. At the request of the Student Army Training Corps—the predecessor to ROTC—the University introduced a current events course to propagate the ideology behind the war. In 1919, a course called War Aims became mandatory for all undergraduates.
I TREATED SOLIDERS, CIVILIANS, AND ENEMY COMABTANTS; GOT SHOT AT, AND SHOT BACK; GOT AMBUSHED, AND AMBUSHED BACK. At the war’s conclusion, students and faculty alike were veterans returning, coming to terms with a different world. In anticipation of their arrival, the faculty that remained stateside revamped the war aims course for the new era of peace. �at peace, Columbia College Dean Herbert Hawkes proclaimed, would be “far more important” than war “as a field of instruction of our college youth.” Refashioned as War and Peace Issues the course became a sort of postscript to the war—a road-map of western civilization from the past to the present. It would offer student veterans insight into the new world order, so that they might rejoin civilian life inculcated with “civic virtue.” In September 1919, the course was renamed Introduction to Contemporary Civilization in the West, and a Columbia institution was born. In context, the air surrounding the unveiling of Contemporary Civilization was electric. �e war to end all wars—where students and faculty members had fought and died—had ended, liberal democracy had triumphed, and now Columbia was unveiling a course that aspired to be the agency of man’s continued drive towards progress. In the New York Times, a press release described the bold new course that would “inform the student of the more outstanding and influential factors of his physical and social environment ... By thus giving the student, early in his college course, objective material on which to base his own judgments, it is thought he will be aided in an intelligent participation in the civilization of his own day.” At a time when state law mandated military training for all college students, Contemporary Civilization offered Columbia’s all-male student body the philosophical argument for American might. �e syllabus began as pamphlets distributed at the beginning of each semester and featured key texts of 20th century western political and economic thought. �ese were not the primary texts of today’s course, but dense secondary writings chosen by a faculty committee. Instead of Plato and Socrates, there were articles by Columbians like John Dewey, Carlton J. H. Hayes,
08
IN FOCUS
When I arrive at campus, time permitting, I get coffee from a vendor and am in class at least 10 minutes before it begins, sometimes as early as 20. �ere are many things—besides showing up way too early—that I have carried over from the Army to Columbia. I don’t exhibit the normal nocturnal tendencies of a typical student, I go to bed at 10 p.m. and wake up promptly at 6 a.m. My daily lexicon includes roger, wilco, and tactical patience as well as many of the monosyllabic modifiers common in the military. For five years, I was a special operations combat medic with the Army’s 1st Ranger Battalion. During my tenure as a Ranger, I went to both Afghanistan and Iraq; treated soldiers, civilians, and enemy combatants; got shot at, and shot back; got ambushed, and ambushed back, over and over again. With time I became restless in the Army life. I applied for and won an Army Green to Gold ROTC Scholarship—a full ride to college. Before I came to Columbia, I knew about 1968.
and J. H. Randall. Tireless advocates of the American system, these men held up democracy as, in the words of Dewey, “the one, ultimate, ethical ideal of humanity.” Contemporary Civilization, then, placed Columbia at the vanguard of liberal democratic thought. Jester, the campus humor magazine, even published a picture mocking the course as Butler’s weapon against communism. �ough the syllabus has been through many revisions over the last century—some of them drastic—the fundamental questions of Contemporary Civilization remain the same: How do people make a living? How do they live together? How do they understand their world? �ese are critical questions, but if the American brand of liberal democratic capitalism is their only answer, the course ceases to be discursive �e greatest revision came with the upheavals of 1968. �e Acropolis was divided over race, class, and the role of the military at Columbia. In those days, the University conducted war-related research with the Institute of Defense Analyses, and class rankings were submitted to local draft boards. On South Field, Naval ROTC conducted drills, and the CIA recruited on campus. Contemporary Civilization, Butler’s contribution to the apparatus of the state, was challenged as a mere field manual for American ideology. �e course texts, intellectual foundations of American military and economic hegemony, were discarded
in favor of full editions. Informed by the pedagogy of Literature Humanities, which had always used whole texts, the reconstituted Contemporary Civilization course allowed students to develop a closer relationship with the material. More texts by female thinkers were incorporated, as well as ones by prominent African Americans. �e war of ideas faded into the background. When I started basic training in April 2003, the Iraq War had just begun. Before I had even finished my medical training, friends had already been shipped out to and died in Iraq. Volunteering for the Army Rangers only added to my training-time. From unqualified harassment in the Ranger Indoctrination Program (dubious acronym: RIP), to starvation and sleep deprivation in Ranger School, you were conditioned to hope for nothing and expect less. Only then could you function as a soldier. Why, then, would a headstrong progressive join an organization whose telos it is to subordinate your individuality? Prophetically, an angry, tattooed sergeant from RIP once asked “HEY ASSHOLE, WHY THE FUCK DID YOU JOIN THE ARMY?” “It’s applied philosophy, SERGEANT!” “DO FUCKING PUSH-UPS! Smart ass.” “Applied Philosophy” means testing ideas. In high school, I was a good student—class president,
THE AIR SURROUNDING THE UNVEILING OF CONTEMPORARY CIVILIZATION WAS ELECTRIC. debate captain, and an avid reader. I had ideas. But what’s the value of an idea if you don’t use or test it? I joined to see war. In the movies, a soldier’s life is constant action. In reality, it’s pretty boring. Between the sporadic periods of violence, you wait. Constantly. When I inquired about that, the regimental commander, Colonel Nixon—the Grand Poobah of Army Rangers—gave me a ratio, 999:1. For every 999 hours spent deployed you may see one hour of “combat.” If that. A 90-day deployment cycle averages to about two hours of combat. In the meantime, you have a lot of time to read and to think about yourself. What are you doing here? What kind of person are you? Where do you want to go? Can an individual make a difference? Can a nation make a difference? Canvas tents and plywood hooches become salons where ideas are discussed, our condition is examined. Shithouse philosophers in our shithouse agora. During
09
IN FOCUS
these moments and discussions, I slowly regained consciousness. My studies in applied philosophy tumbled forward, deployments came and went, and I felt that this experience, though invaluable, was not sufficient. �e Army had exhausted me and I had exhausted it of the experience I’d originally sought. I wanted to pick up where I had left off. “DOC! Why the hell would you want to go to such a hippie-faggot-liberal-school?” my platoon sergeant asked. Because I wanted to get a top-notch education. Columbia, with the ideological combat of Contemporary Civilization, seemed an appropriate destination for my next deployment. Contemporary Civilization is a sort of metonym for Columbia. Ideas are individuals meeting on Low Steps or clutching megaphones on the sundial— discussing, debating, and sharing ideas on these 36 acres. Without constructive dialogue, truly intuitive conclusions are hard to reach. Perhaps John Stuart Mill best describes Contemporary Civilization’s pedagogical aims when he says, “He who knows only his own side of the case knows little of that.” Or, in the words of my professor, “�e condition of knowing yourself is knowing the condition of others.” I thought I knew myself when I left high school six years ago. �en a child was shot in the crossfire of a gun battle, and I had to treat him. His name was Hamdi. When I carried him to the helicopters, he nestled into the crook of my neck and whispered. I didn’t know anything. Last year,
10
back from my last combat deployment, I thought I knew myself. Contemporary Civilization again proved me wrong. Its original mission, through all of its flaws and changes, has resonated with me. It gives me, a returning veteran, insight into the new world order—not of 1917 or 1968, but of 2009.
CANVAS TENTS AND PLYWOOD HOOCHES BECOME SALONS WHERE IDEAS ARE DISCUSSED, OUR CONDITION EXAMINED. SHITHOUSE PHILOSOPHERS IN OUR SHITHOUSE AGORA. On campuses across the country, veterans are coming to college in increasing numbers. Like the generations of veterans before them, they leave behind a world torn asunder. Columbia’s veterans—the largest crop in the Ivy League—enroll in the School of General Studies, which has long been a destination for men and women returning from war. A reconstitution of the University Exten-
sion program, the school was inaugurated in the aftermath of World War II to receive the thousands of veterans coming home. With the help of the GI Bill, veterans entering Columbia’s new undergraduate college had the chance to pursue an Ivy League education. �e School of General Studies grants bachelor’s degrees from Columbia, but its students aren’t required to take Contemporary Civilization. All 48 of Columbia’s veterans are in General Studies; only two are enrolled in Contemporary Civilization. �e four Marine candidates and one Army ROTC cadet in Columbia College are the only other military affiliates in the course. It’s more than a little ironic that a program originally founded to inform veterans and future soldiers has almost none of either. Last year, the CU Military Veterans helped lobby for the Post-9/11 Veterans Education Assistance Act, also known as the “new” GI Bill. �is legislation sets the stage for a fresh influx of veterans on Columbia’s campus. �ese veterans, like the soldiers, sailors, marines, and airmen who came before them, will bring a wealth of experience to Columbia, and the University will have much to offer them. But none of us will go beyond Columbia fully prepared for what the world will bring us. I watch the news and see the chaos unfold in Afghanistan. More troops will go to that country and see real combat, and in all likelihood I will go with them. Eventually. Until then I’ll stick with ideological combat. a
Maybe �ey’re Crazy—Probably TV
the unrealistic antics of prime time have some viewers reaching for the remote BY RUTHY SHER PHOTO COURTESY OF MITCHELL HAASETH
“I can’t be normal. If I’m normal, I’m boring. If I’m boring, I’m not a movie star. If I’m not a movie star, I’m poor! And poor people can’t afford to pay back the $75,000 in cash they owe Quincy Jones!” screams Tracy Jordan (Tracy Morgan), one of the main characters on NBC’s 30 Rock. Tracy, a mentally unstable comedian, is one of the wackiest characters on television, but he’s certainly not the small screen’s only overly exaggerated personality. It seems that every sitcom currently on TV includes at least one outrageous presence like Tracy, and the popularity of these eccentrics means that executives are eager to keep including similar characters in their series. But colorful characters don’t always help a show: sometimes they drive viewers away because their antics are just too unrealistic. Since the dawn of reality TV, shows have tended to focus more on the extreme than on the lifelike. Contestants on shows like Flavor of Love often resemble skanky cartoon characters rather than actual people. As reality spinoffs like Daisy of Love and �e City get launched and renewed at an incredible rate, scripted shows without elements
Dwight is a beet farmer, a bed-and-breakfast owner, and the Office vigilante—does it matter that he’s just too strange to be relatable?
of the extraordinary have begun to seem like an endangered species. To ward off the extinction of these programs, 30-minute shows like NBC’s �e Office and hour-long dramas like FOX’s House and 24 are relying more and more on absurd plots and characters. �ose extreme but essential presences are given distinctive personalities—they tend to lack social skills, common sense, or both—and are placed in peculiar situations. What ensue are outlandish, and usually hilarious, moments that lead to an array of responses from the rest of the cast. Such characters keep viewers on the edge of their seats, wondering what these oddballs will say and do next. Take Dwight K. Schrute (Rainn Wilson), one of the protagonists of �e Office, for example. When asked in Season �ree to share a story about a deceased loved one, he proudly states that he “resorbed the fetus” of his twin brother in the womb. “Do I regret this? No,” he continues. “I now have the strength of a grown man and a little baby.”
SOME CHARACTERS HAVE VIEWERS ROLLING THEIR EYES INSTEAD OF ROLLING WITH LAUGHTER. �ose kinds of one-liners can provoke eyerolling as easily as they incite laughter. For disbelievers, it is characters like Dwight who turn audiences off from a television show. “It’s hard to stay interested in a show when you can’t believe what’s going on,” says Anthony Testa, CC ’12. Viewers want to feel connected to the programs they watch. If they can’t relate to the implausibility of certain aspects of a show, the connection is lost and the audience estranged. It is crucial for networks to strike the right balance for their shows: exposing viewers to new, exciting people who wouldn’t and couldn’t exist in the real world, but at the same time being careful not to completely remove the premise of the show from reality. Desperate Housewives, for one, straddles the line with grace: The show ties in the ordinary struggles of suburban life with a slightly incredible amount of secrets unfolding from behind closed doors. Viewers watch Edie (Nicollette Sheridan) repeatedly deceive the other Wisteria Lane residents to get what she wants, but the show counteracts her outrageous antics (like faking her own suicide to win over a man, whom she later blackmails so he’ll accept her marriage proposal) with visible signs of her humanity. Despite her hard exterior, Edie isn’t impervious to heartbreak or isolation, especially as the perpetual outsider of the show’s core group.
Desperate Housewives, now in its fifth season, finds its lasting power in the honesty at the core of its heightened reality. Housewives proves that scripted programming doesn’t need to be wacky or flashy to succeed. When it comes to mindless entertainment, caricatures like Flavor Flav and his successors may always be the gold standard—but viewers still sometimes prefer shows that resemble the real world, with a generous helping of Hollywood-style drama on the side. a
TV’S BELIEVE IT OR NOT Television can sometimes seem like a funhouse in which characters are so distorted that they’re barely recognizable as human. But sometimes those figures are so interesting that viewers can’t avert their gazes, despite the characters’ unrealistic nature. �ese three are implausible, improbable, and irresistible. House—Dr. House Gregory House (Hugh Laurie), head diagnostician in the Princeton-Plainsboro Teaching Hospital, is an irreverent, controversial doctor who trusts no one, least of all his patients. Always sarcastic, skeptical, and rude, House has a knack for frustrating coworkers, patients, and almost anyone who gets in his way—actions he certainly wouldn’t get away with if his diagnoses weren’t always right. How I Met Your Mother—Barney Stinson Suit-wearing, womanizing Barney Stinson (Neil Patrick Harris) is more or less the fifth wheel in his close group of friends. Refusing to settle down with one woman, Barney follows a strict “Bro Code” and is known for telling elaborate, outrageous tall tales that he always follows with a trademark “true story.” His variations on the high-five and the way he describes his “awesomeness” are what make his show, and Barney, legen—wait for it—dary. Gossip Girl—Chuck Bass Multi-millionaire and complete jerk Chuck Bass (Ed Westwick) is a vicious anti-hero who alienates friends and family with his love of blackmail and ruining lives. Known for his promiscuity, Chuck frequently sleeps with hired women and has attempted to hook up with each of GG’s female leads. Using his money as a manipulative force and constantly finding himself in situations barely suitable for men twice his age, Chuck is definitely not your typical 17-year-old. \\\
11
BOOKS
�e Wonderful Story of Sophie Dahl
amélie nothomb’s autobiographical memoir explores the complexity of language and relationships
the granddaughter of an icon makes her literary debut
BY ELIZABETH KEENE PHOTO COURTESY OF EUROPA EDITIONS
“I’ll just choose a machine, shall I?” I ask, standing with Amélie Nothomb in the gym of the Washington Square Hotel. About a dozen contraptions of indeterminable purpose are crammed into the tiny, carpeted room. We have met to discuss her book, Tokyo Fiancée, originally written in French. The English translation was released by Europa Editions this February. Dressed entirely in black from her hat to her shoes, Nothomb cuts an imposing figure. As we sit on our respective exercise machines, she stares at me frankly, expectantly. I am a little intimidated. This is probably why, seconds into our interview, I lose track of my first question and blurt out that I want to be a writer. For one who aspires to the profession, Nothomb’s work is worth emulating. Tokyo Fiancée refuses to submit to the reader’s expectations because Nothomb refuses to represent the story as something other than what it is: the nebulous struggle of two people to connect across barriers of language and culture. Yet her honesty does not make the book unreadable or ambiguous. Rather, it posits a solution: a new kind of relationship. As Nothomb tells me, it is “the very first relation[ship] with an other ... that works.” Her happy ending defies the social expectations of romantic love and embraces camaraderie rather than marriage. And she illustrates it with bold, unconventional language. Even the genre of the book is unpredictable. “Would you describe this book as mostly autobiographical? Is it a memoir? Is it a novel?” I ask. “I consider it as 100 percent autobiographical memoir,” she replies. She speaks heavily accented, somewhat eccentric English. “For me, there is no contradiction ... First, it is a piece of writing, it is a novel, but the facts are 100 percent autobiographical.” The reader senses this upon reading Tokyo Fiancée, and not only because the narrator is also named Amélie. The book feels honest. It is narrated in the first person, and, at its most striking moments, the novel plunges readers directly into Nothomb’s psyche. Surrounded by the thoughts, images, and emotions racing through her head, it is impossible not to empathize with her. Though she wields language powerfully, Nothomb is intensely aware of its fallibility. Indeed, the failures of language, and the way
12
humans compensate for it, fascinate her. Language fails writers, as well as their subjects, and she compares her own search for the right words to shooting a gun, aiming her forefinger at me to demonstrate:
“FOR ME THERE IS NO CONTRADICTION ... FIRST IT IS A PIECE OF WRITING, IT IS A NOVEL, BUT THE FACTS ARE ONE-HUNDRED PERCENT AUTOBIOGRAPHICAL.” “It’s like, if you are a shooter ... I have a feeling when you try to shoot something from the front—I don’t know why, it does not work. If you go from on the side it will work ... There’s no explanation to that, it’s just I noticed it, go on the side.”
Throughout Tokyo Fiancée, Nothomb shoots from the side. She makes literary references and describes certain elements of language to express pivotal moments in the novel’s central relationship. These techniques are hardly an effort to avoid the complexities of the relationship—in fact, they may be the only way to accurately express them. Nothomb acknowledges that the complexity of human relationships does not always allow them to fit into conventional patterns, and that complex relationships cannot be described in a conventional way. Had she not defied convention, Tokyo Fiancée would not be as emotionally honest, or as compelling, as it is. Nothomb’s willingness to attack the intricacies of human existence in her writing parallels her willingness to attack them in life. As she states explicitly in the novel, she has always conceived of herself as being comprised of multiple identities. She tells me that she discovered this “thanks to the great poets I wrote—I read in my life.” That verbal mix-up seems at first merely to be a struggle with language. Nevertheless, I am struck by the idea of her “writing” the great poets of her life. Her sentence does not obey the conventions of grammar, yet it allows me, in two words, to understand what she must have felt upon reading these poems for the first time: that a great mind has written something that speaks to you so clearly that it becomes a part of your identity—that someone has written you so perfectly that you feel as though you’d written the poem yourself. She specifically mentions poet Arthur Rimbaud as an inspiration: “He wrote that, that very great sentence: ‘Je est un autre,’ which you can translate by ‘I is an other,’ not I am an other. ... which is very true.” I begin to see what enables Nothomb to navigate human relationships so skillfully. Not only her writing, but also her very being seeks to embrace the other, to incorporate it into herself. This is evident in her admiration of Rimbaud, her tendency to conflate his life with her own. She suggests that this ability is not a rare gift, but a human characteristic. A man opens the door and leans in, clearly hoping to use the gym. We stare at him for a moment and he leaves, but it is evident that the interview is coming to a close. Nothomb, with an eloquence that I sense is not unusual for her, unites the themes of her novel and her life in one stunning comment. “Who’s ‘I’?” she wonders. “We have no idea and maybe we change ... several times without even noticing it, or sometimes we notice. ... It’s natural, we are not liars—it’s just that—we are—we are not stones.” a
BY GIZEM ORBEY PHOTO COURTESY OF LORRAINE GODDARD
“The brilliant thing is, having written a first novel, I never have to again,” Sophie Dahl says to me during our phone interview. It’s not unusual for first-time novelists to reflect with relief on the nerve-wracking process of exposing their debuts to the public—but Dahl, the granddaughter of beloved children’s author Roald Dahl, knows her book will come under particular scrutiny. Luckily, Playing With the Grownups earned good marks from the Los Angeles Times and BookPage when it was released last month, though Dahl still likens the experience to a “baptism by fire.”
WHAT SORT OF GRANDFATHER WOULD A MAN LIKE ROALD DAHL HAVE MADE? You can’t really blame her. Roald Dahl is a literary icon, one of the greatest children’s authors of all time—if you haven’t at least heard of Charlie and the Chocolate Factory or Matilda, you were probably raised in Antarctica. Odds are that you’ve not only read one of his books, but that his bizarre and powerful characters made an everlasting impression on your young heart. Dahl seems to have inherited her granddad’s knack for inventing plausibly quirky adults— but unlike most such characters spun by the older Dahl, her most successful creation is female. Marina, the restless mother of a teenaged protagonist named Kitty, is the highlight of Playing With the Grown-ups. As she subjects Kitty to the sometimes exciting, sometimes painful adventures that pull the plot along, Marina shares many of the qualities that make classic Roald Dahl characters like Willy Wonka and Uncle Oswald so effective. Genetic proclivities aside, Dahl’s talents could be attributed to her previous work writing profiles for The Guardian and Vogue. Her background in magazines may also be the source of Dahl’s weakness: her tendency to be overly snippy at the expense of the narrative structure. Roald Dahl had a different kind of talent—while no individual sentence from his books could be called earth-shattering, he was a revolutionary architect of stories. In Play-
ing With the Grown-ups, Dahl channels her grandfather’s style by writing from the perspective of a child. But each paragraph, while deftly composed, seems to end in a punch line that breaks up the natural flow of her writing. Rather than a cohesive whole, the book becomes something more like a dish of individually-wrapped candies. Dahl’s book is somewhat autobiographical, and Kitty spends a great deal of time in the company of her bestepapa, or grandfather. Die-hard Roald Dahl fans will find that this prompts all sorts of burning questions. For all intents and purposes, Roald Dahl hated adults—his children’s stories are always told from the point of view of an adolescent protagonist who must outwit a slew of evil grown-ups, with perhaps one archetypal “good” grown-up thrown into the mix. What Dahl did best was depict adults in the way that children understand them—that is, in Manichean terms, before the kids have the wisdom or experience to understand moral ambiguities or to accept that everyone makes mistakes. In a seemingly backwards way, Roald Dahl told children what they wanted to hear: contrary to what your parents might tell you, the gradeschool teacher who assigns homework over the holidays could, in fact, turn out to be a toeless, broth-stewing, frog-eating witch. When most authors were writing comforting, sunny stories, the elder Dahl flew in the face of convention by confirming children’s darkest suspicions. What sort of grandfather would such a man have made? Kitty’s bestepapa gives her giant
BOOKS
Shooting from the Side
sips of his gin and tonics and pokes earnest fun at Marina’s escapades into Buddhism, pretending to meditate while “releasing a giant fart that sounded like a duck quacking.” Such details are enthralling and rare insights into the character of Roald Dahl himself. Remarkably, he managed to stay attuned to the sensitivities of children well into the golden years of his life, which means that Sophie must have had an influence on him as well—he even named the protagonist of The BFG after her. His other works—dark, startling short stories for adults—are no less brilliant and certainly no more forgiving towards adults, even though they are written from adult perspectives. They have been published in The New Yorker and adapted by Hitchcock, and deserve an reading by anyone who wishes they could have traded granddads with Sophie for a day or two. a
ROALD DAHL’S BIG, UNFRIENDLY GROWN-UPS Drinking from a chocolate river, sailing through the sky in a magical peach, sleeping as sweet dreams creep in through the windows— one drifts into a whimsical but graspable world when reading Roald Dahl’s acclaimed children books. �ough there is an ethereal quality to his work, Dahl also often focuses on the unjust world that his characters inhabit. In his children’s books, Dahl’s characters frequently battle with and often triumph over the evil imposed upon them. In Dahl’s lesserknown novels and short stories for adults, the evil sides of human nature are even more present. He uses his distinctive dark humor to attack societal flaws such as poor parenting, greed, and crime. In his short story “Man From the South,” for instance, a character cuts off others’ fingers in order to steal their possessions. In “Bitch,” a surprisingly morbid and sexual tale, the characters work to create a fragrance that evokes carnal desire. Once concocted, all the men who take a whiff of it desperately crave sexual intercourse. �ere is something humane and natural in the behavior Dahl details—but also something plainly animalistic. Unsurprisingly, Dahl’s adult stories enhance the hostile and pessimistic tendencies of his children’s books. �e storylines of both, though, are equally imaginative and delightfully implausible. Most importantly, whether he is writing for children or adults, at the core of all of Dahl’s plots lies something disturbing that readers can nonetheless relate to. —Elisa de Souza
13
ART
Contemporary Conundrum why many are grappling with today’s art BY VALERIYA SAFRONOVA ILLUSTRATION BY EDUARDO SANTANA
After six years of art classes, two years in a studio, and one year of art history, there is a question I still can’t answer satisfactorily. What is art? For some, like my friend Ana Baric, a Columbia College first-year, the question issues a minimal challenge. “Art is what Ana thinks is pretty,” she tells me with a twinge of sarcasm. She may be kidding, but for many, a similar answer has become standard in response to the incredible variety of works being produced in the modern day. When looking back on history, many scholars agree that certain pieces stand out as turning points in artistic development. �eir creators are so famous that children learn their names in kindergarten—da Vinci, Picasso, Michelangelo. Who can say that these figures are not great? But as times have changed, so have artistic standards. Since painting and sculpture-making became accessible professions and Marcel Duchamp flushed old conventions down the drain, the question of what could be labeled “art” became more difficult to answer than ever before. Now, in 2009, the range of what we call “art” spans from messages scrawled in Sharpie on garbage to Polaroids covered with semen. Is it any wonder that no one can agree on the boundaries of the category called “contemporary art?” �at term is simple enough. Why not take contemporary art literally and define it only according to the words that comprise it? “Contemporary art is what has been done in the last few years by someone who is still alive. I don’t attribute any specific value to it,” says Cybel Martin, a New York based artist. To her, the definition needs no parameters besides the time frame in which the art is made. Josiah Perry, husband of artist Deborah Perry, concurs, saying, “Contemporary art reflects and inherits the time period it is made in.” �ough simple and direct, this definition leaves plenty of room for questions. Should I consider my brother’s stapled piece of construction paper gallery-worthy? Should I put my doodles on the market? After all, they were made just this morning. According to Martin and Perry, that should be enough. Many share my hesitation to fully support the above definition. �ey believe that contemporary works must fulfill one main requirement to be called art—interaction with the audience. “�e communication between the artist and the viewer is what defines art. If it’s not there, it’s not art,” says Tony Martinez, an art lover. Jason Alborn, a Columbia College first-year, agrees: “�e artist should be able to convey something that’s somewhat universal.” Essentially, both Martinez and Alborn believe that their understanding of a work should somehow coincide with the artist’s intent.
14
�is point of view is understandable. After all, art is a way for a person to share his or her innermost ideas, emotions, and complexities with the world. If the viewer can’t get any sense of what the artist is presenting, what value can the art hold for them? If the art means little to anyone but the one who creates it, how is it more than a therapeutic hobby?
SHOULD I CONSIDER MY BROTHER’S STAPLED PIECE OF CONSTRUCTION PAPER GALLERY-WORTHY? Still others assign much deeper values to current works. “Contemporary art is expanding the definition of art. Graffiti was previously considered a ‘low’ art, but now it’s been elevated to a whole new level,” points out Sammy Lbonard, a Brooklynbased artist. His definition brings up an interesting aspect of contemporary art—the technique involved. Technical skill, which in the past was prized above all other aspects of a work, has now become a questionable necessity. In the end, if a work can make us cry, does it matter if the artist can sketch out a perfectly proportioned face? “�e technique doesn’t matter as much as the meaning. As long as it evokes emotion, it’s still art,” says Juxtapose, a local musician. His assertion is supported by art classes across the country in which a student’s passion often has more value than her skill. However, not everyone believes that the worth of technique has diminished. “Training is very important—you need to know why and how you’re going to break the rules,” says Tai Allen, a contemporary artist. Training, it seems, is the entry point into the world of art. It is the platform for exploration, and in contemporary art, it often becomes
invisible, even though it is still present. A picture of a humongous puppy might look ridiculous, yet the drafts, graphs, and diagrams that are needed for it to exist are endless, though we never see them. What was considered useful in terms of technique 100 years ago might be outdated now. Painting and drawing are often secondary to maneuvering a computer program or scaling a wall. Contemporary art can frequently appear offensive, disgusting, and aggressive. Even an objective viewer at times feels repulsed at works featured in galleries and museums. One cannot help but wonder whether contemporary art is crossing a line. Josiah Perry can easily think of an ostentatiously offensive artwork recently published—a certain infamous cartoon in the New York Post involving an ape and a snide remark about the economic stimulus—which he believes went too far. �ough not a typical example of museum art, cartoons are drawings put forth for an audience, which makes them art in Perry’s eyes. Many would agree with Perry. After all, when a work of art is that blatantly offensive, isn’t it pushing the boundaries a little bit too violently? Jason Alborn takes a different perspective on this issue. “Of course art is crossing lines,” he says. Alborn has a point: Art has been defying norms since its very conception on the inner sanctums of caves. If it did not challenge established traditions and push our buttons, it would never have progressed past stick figures and geometric bison. Allen agrees, saying, “Why is crossing lines always associated with negative qualities?” To many, art must challenge its audience. Otherwise, what’s the point? If we cannot feel the personality of the artist behind a work and respond in some way, why should we view it? Maybe, in the end, this is the most important aspect of contemporary art. If the only way an artist can express himself is through a Jesus made out of feces, then I say do it. I may not like it, I may even feel repulsed, but I’m reacting. I’m thinking, and at the end of the day, that’s what counts. a
Introducing the New iBag
On the Lookout: Charlotte Ronson STYLE
laptops as clutches for 2009 BY LINDSAY WEAVER ILLUSTRATION BY REBEKAH KIM Fall collections were not all that was on display at Mercedes Benz New York Fashion Week this February: a new techno-chic trend was flaunted throughout the tents, even making a runway appearance. Billed both as a “digital clutch” and the notebook computer with “impeccable style,” mini-laptops may be set to replace the recession casualty “it”-bag. HP and Sony are marketing their fashionable wares to the stylish consumer, perhaps also attempting to attract the closeted geek inside of every fashionista. Are these computers a more practical way to mix utility with style, or is just plain ridiculous to pay twice as much for a notebook with a designer laptop sleeve? Mini-laptops: �ey have the same functions and capabilities of a regular computer, but they’re the size of the Epicurus text we read in CC. Lightweight computers certainly appeal to students carrying their laptops to lectures. �e HP Mini weighs in at 2.45 lbs., while Sony’s PC is only 1.4 lbs. �e convenience of being able to type notes on a machine that is smaller than a loose-leaf notebook is undeniable—one reason why mini-laptops may be making the transition from Bryant Park’s catwalk to College Walk. In the face of the current economic climate, buyers are looking for practical purchases. �e “digital clutch” seems to fulfill the “sensible” requirement, especially to a student consumer base. Models walking the Vivienne Tam Fall ’09 show carried the HP Mini Vivienne Tam edition. Its bright red, purple and pink peony design is eye-catching and elegant. �e notebook also comes with a red, envelope-shaped purse, so you can carry the HP Mini as a clutch. It starts at $699.99, and has many of the functions and updated technology of new, full-size laptops. If you want to upgrade, for an additional $200, a Vivienne Tam tote and scarf are thrown into
the deal. However, that same HP Mini without the Vivienne Tam cover—a plain black computer that lacks those stylish peonies—costs only $279.99. �e new Sony VAIO Lifestyle PC’s smart jewel colors are an alternative for those who don’t care for the feminine Vivenne Tam cover on the HP Mini. Fashion-forward guys as well as “tech-chic” girls can feel comfortable carrying these convenient mini-laptops. Sony set up shop in the Bryant Park tents for Fashion Week last month, featuring live “mannequins” who held the Lifestyle notebook entertaining guests as they waited in line for shows. �ese stationary models were also sent out across Manhattan, showing off their mini-laptops in a variety of locations. By traveling to Chelsea and the Lower East Side for dinner and drinks, SoHo for brunch and window-shopping, and Grand Central for the daily commute, the mannequins showcased the notebook’s transportability, versatility, and wearability. To stress that the minilaptop is key for a stylish look, designers like Elise Overland, �reeasfour and Libertine are featured in the ad campaign. Sony is clearly marketing the VAIO Lifestyle PC as a “fashion” notebook, a creative tool that can be used every day, for everything. While the notebook certainly is usable and easy to carry, do you need the designer cover to achieve “tech-chic” status? �e mini-laptops are being marketed to consumers as a worthy investment, but the additional prices of the “fashionable” versions skews this seemingly reasonable proposition. �e trend is reminiscent of the Prada cell phones that were popular few seasons ago—they combined fashion and technology, but were they truly necessary? Notebook as clutch definitely makes it easier to tote your computer around campus, although it’s unlikely that you’d really use your laptop during lunch in the Meatpacking District. �e marketing ploys of Sony and HP may have their faults, but you’ll definitely get more use out of a designer mini-notebook than spring’s harem pants. a
BY HELEN WERBE PHOTO COURTESY OF HARPER’S BAZAAR If you haven’t heard of the Ronsons yet, you’re probably living under a rock. Hailing from Britain, this super-family includes music producer Mark Ronson who helped Amy Winehouse and Lily Allen hit it big, daughter Samantha Ronson, DJ and girlfriend to Lindsay Lohan, and Samantha’s twin sister—and emerging fashion designer—Charlotte Ronson who, at the tender age of 31, is defining youthful, trendy style.
Ronson’s career began early. Growing up, she enjoyed customizing her own clothes while friends begged her to design pieces for them. �anks to their encouragement, Ronson launched her first line, C. Ronson, and a flagship boutique in Nolita in 2002. Ronson’s fresh, fun and very wearable looks were quickly picked up by major publications like Vogue, WWD, and the New York Times. Her fashion house has evolved since then, transitioning from a casual basics line to a more upscale ready-to-wear collection, now called Charlotte Ronson. Although her clothes appeal most to the trendsetting socialite types, Ronson has managed to make her designs accessible to fans on a tighter budget. With an exclusive collaboration collection with Urban Outfitters called Play by C. Ronson, the designer has gotten her label into more closets. From zippers to cutouts, from florals to tartan, from bright colors to unfailing black, Ronson’s clothes are exactly what stylish shoppers seek. �is spring, Ronson is unveiling yet another affordable line, I Heart Ronson, available only at JCPenney stores. Bargain shoppers will appreciate the chance to dress like style icons Nicole Richie, Mischa Barton, Gwen Stefani and Kate Moss—Charlotte Ronson’s biggest celebrity clients—without breaking the bank. Ronson’s fashion savvy and her attempt to reach out to all customers will both help her labels thrive and ensure that the Ronson name continues to make headlines. \\\
15