The College Hill Independent: February 10, 2011

THE COLLEGE HILL

VOLUME XXII, ISSUE 1

FEBRUARY 10, 2011

BROWN/RISD WEEKLY

FROM THE EDITORS: As 2010 ended with Kanye apologizing to George Bush and Mark Zuckerberg winning Time’s 2010 Person of the Year, I counted down the days ‘til 2012. Had our dreams of hope, only two years young, already perished? Had we already pardoned the president-thief for two wars, Katrina and economic crises galore, while accepting our fate to spend the rest of our days reading our ex’s tweets and updates? Yes, there was two feet of snow outside, but I didn’t feel like going out much anyways.

After a few weeks hibernating under the covers, I headed to the museum, hoping to get a break from my 21st century schizophrenia. Monet’s Water Lilies granted me this moment of solace; however, it was quickly shattered on my way home as I walked past a gym and saw a girl doing squats and texting at the same time. Later that night, at an old friend’s birthday party, I told my friend’s father how excited I was to return to school and work on the newspaper, something which, I believed, had the potential to unite a community while simultaneously embracing ideals of consciousness and expression. He told me that if I invented an iPhone app for the newspaper he could definitely find me a job post-graduation.

After packing my bags, I opened up my computer to book a bus ticket back to Providence when the news broke. Thousands had stormed the streets. After 30 years of Mubarak’s regime, the Egyptian people had decided that 2011 would not be more of the same. The birth of a new decade would bring the birth of a new society, one that ensured civil rights and democratic elections.

Today, over two weeks later, the future of Egypt remains uncertain. However, one thing has become clear: while we consider uploading a new profile pic and debate the advantages of owning a Kindle, problems older than the internet remain unsolved. As we move forward into this new age of technology, the Indy promises to never forget the problems of yesterday, while continuing to advocate advances towards a better future. 2010 can keep its txts and ex’s. A new decade has begun: onward, progress, independence. —EF

THE INDY IS:

MANAGING EDITORS Gillian Brassil, Erik Font, Adrian Randall • NEWS Emily Gogolak, Ashton Strait, Emma Whitford • METRO Emma Berry, Malcolm Burnley, Alice Hines, Jonah Wolf • OPINIONS Sam Carter • FEATURES Belle Cushing, Mimi Dwyer, Eve Blazo, Kate Welsh • ARTS Ana Alvarez, Maud Doyle, Olivia Fagon, Alex Spoto • LITERARY Kate Van Brocklin • SCIENCE Maggie Lange • SPORTS/FOOD Greg Berman, David Adler • OCCULT Natasha Pradhan, Alex Corrigan • LIST Dayna Tortorici • CIPHRESS IN CHIEF Raphaela Lipinsky • COVER/CREATIVE CONSULTANT Emily Martin • X Fraser Evans• ILLUSTRATIONS Annika Finne • DESIGN Joanna Zhang, Katherine Entis, Liat Werber, Rachel Wexler, Mary-Evelyn Farrior, Maddy McKay, Maija Ekey, Emily Fishman, Blake Beaver • PHOTOGRAPHY John Fisher • STAFF PHOTOGRAPHERS Drew Foster, Sarah Friedland • SENIOR EDITORS Erin Schikowski, Alex Verdolini, Dayna Tortorici, Eli Schmitt, Tarah Knaresboro, Katie Jennings COVER ART Emily Martin The College Hill Independent PO Box 1930 Brown University Providence, RI 02912 theindy@gmail.com Letters to the editor are welcome distractions. The College Hill Independent is published weekly during the fall and spring semesters and is printed by TCI Press in Seekonk, MA The College Hill Independent receives support from Campus Progress/ Center for American Progress. Campus Progress works to help young people — advocates, activists, journalists, artists — make their voices heard on issues that matter. Learn more at CampusProgress.org

EPHEMERA:

THE ISSUE: News Week in Review

by Emily Gogolak, Ashton Strait, and Emma Whitford

The Revolution Will Not Be (Truthfully) Televised

by Emily Gogolak and Emma Whitford

p.2 p.3

Metro

While You Were Out

by Emma Berry, Malcolm Burnley, and Alice Hines

p.5

Features

Unlucky Thirteen

by Belle Cushing

Rap Is War

by Mimi Dwyer

p.7 p.9

Arts

Museums Held Hostage

by Olivia Fagon

Wynwood Rising

by Ana Alvarez

D.I.Y. Jungle Videography

by Alex Spoto

p.8 p.11 p.13

Science

The Dirt on the White Coat

by Maggie Lange

p.15

Sports

Spreading the Cheese

by David Adler

p.16

Literary

The Siamese Cat

by Maria Anderson

p.17

AS IF YOU CARE: COLUMNS 105 – 106, CHAPTER 144 Here a type of guidebook to the Hereafter begins. The Hereafter was divided into various areas and fields which contained doors and/or portals and mounds. To enter a field one had to pass through a gate or portal which had an attendant, guardian and announcer. To be admitted the deceased had to know the name of each and to give offerings to him.

Chapter 144 lists the seven gates of Osiris and the names of the attendant, guardian and announcer of each in, unfortunately for Imhotep, a garbled form. They are in turn: (1) Face-downward and Numerous of Forms, Eavesdropper and Roaring Voice; (2) Spy, He Who Turns His Face and Fierce One; (3) He who Eats the Excrement from his Anus, Alert (of face) and Curser; (4) Repulsive of Face and Garrulous, Alert of Mind and Large Face Who Repels the Crocodile; (5) He Who Lives on Maggoty Meat, Ahebu (for Ashebu) and Face-Afire Who is Violent of Strength; (6) quite garbled; the announcer is Sharp of Face Who Guards the Sky; (7) The Sharpest of Them, Loud Voice and Repeller of Attackers.

Woman Talking on Cellphone, the Circus, Charlie Chaplin (1928)

FEBRUARY 10 2011 | THE COLLEGE HILL INDEPENDENT | www.THEINDY.org

NEWS| 2

WEEK IN REVIEW

by Emily Gogolak, Emma Whitford, and Ashton Strait

WE NEED SOME TAPE: CHRIS LEE IS RIPPED Furry fanatics and sadomasochists aren’t the only ones trying to find hook-ups on Craigslist. Apparently it’s prime hunting grounds for senators too. Indeed, New York senator Chris Lee just resigned his position after sending shirtless photos of himself displaying quite the gun show to a woman in response to her personal ad on Craigslist.

However, the most interesting part of the story isn’t that a senator would stoop to such levels. Indeed, the married-with-kids Republican senator/congressman/mayor/governor who spouts Christian family values by day and gets his freak on by night is an old trope by now. No, the real shocker is that Chris Lee is actually incredibly ripped. The man has washboard abs and—as his photo will attest— quite the gun show.

The 46-year-old Lee, who has a wife and child, portrayed himself as a 39-year-old single lobbyist on Craigslist, but his photo is unmistakable. He should have tried his luck as a furry and avoided baring it for all the world to see. —AS

STOP AND EAT THE WAFFLES In response to recent government stalemates, Belgians are insisting that their politicians don’t get any until they get down to business.

The spouses and partners of members of the Belgian parliament are being encouraged to withhold sex until the two disagreeing majority parties can get together and make whoopee themselves.

The idea for this sex strike was started by Socialist senator, Marleen Temmerman, after a recent visit to Kenya, where a similar strike in 2009 resolved a political crisis in less than a week. The feud between the New Flemish Alliance and the Socialist parties has left the parliamentary chamber empty and wanting since the election in June, over 240 days ago.

In addition to the sex strike in Kenya, there was also a “crossedlegs” campaign in Colombia in 2006 to encourage gangsters to stop gun violence, and Temmerman was first inspired to voice her idea

by Belgian actor Benoit Poelvoorde, who started a beard-growing campaign in response to the crisis. So far, Temmerman’s bush-withholding idea has not been successful, but she says the majority of the feedback she has gotten has been positive.

Nevertheless, there are some for whom abstinence is not the best policy. Belgian senator, Catherine Frock, told the UK’s Daily Telegraph that “politicians are not there to strike… politicians are there to arouse the country.” Fortunately for her, the unresolved political tension seems to be getting all sorts of Belgians hot and bothered. —AS DICK SAYS, “I’M TIRED OF THE NUTS.” Recently, Dick Wadhams announced that he no longer intended to run for a third term as chairman of the Colorado Republican Party.

Despite ostensibly having the voters all over him to win the position again, he cited tiredness and frustration with “those who are obsessed with seeing conspiracies around every corner” and “the nuts who have no grasp of what the state party’s role is” as his reasons for withdrawal.

Tea Party groups had been hypocritical of Wadhams’ role in the 2010 elections, some haranguing him for too much of a hand into the election, some arguing that he did too little. Wadham also denounced the idea that being able to unite conservatives was all that was required to win elections; indeed, it requires being well endowed in a variety of areas. Certainly, the Colorado Republican Party won’t be any more unified after his departure as many Republicans speculate that it will cause even more candidates to try to jump on his position. —AS

HERE COMES THE BRIDE Things we associate with Urban Outfitters: decorative zippers, chunky sweaters without zippers, primary-colored tights, knock-off Keds. These are hardly items that correlate with your cousin’s wedding registry. But get ready, because just in time for Valentine’s Day Urban Outfitters will launch its newest brainchild into the retail market Bhldn—or ‘beholden’ for those who don’t communicate via text message.

Urban is hardly a newcomer to the casual wedding market. J Crew its flagship bridal outlet on Madison Avenue last year. Just this past week Vera Wang teamed up with David’s Bridal. JC Penny and The Limited also have recently jumped on the bridal bandwagon. All of these brands offer relatively digestible prices, but Urban brings something new to the mix: matrimonial hipsterdom.

The goal is practical wedding gear for the modern couple. The frocks will go for $1,000 to $4,000, and the February 14th launch will be online only, but eventually the brand hopes to expand to two to three stores by 2012. “We’re confident that we’re filling in space that no one’s filling in. Traditionally, people got married in churches.

Now, they’re getting married on beaches and mountain tops. We’re building our assortment for the ultimate end use.” Don’t worry, this will not exclude tasteful tiaras, feathered headbands, and enameled flowery accessories.

And Bhldn doesn’t have its eyes only set on brides. “We want to be about parties, all the parties in your life,” Norris said. Mitzvahs, anniversaries, you name it—Bhldn has your back. —EG & EW

3 |NEWS

FEBRUARY 10 2011 | THE COLLEGE HILL INDEPENDENT | www.THEINDY.org

THE REVOLUTION WILL NOT BE (TRUTHFULLY) TELEVISED

by Emily Gogolak and Emma Whitford design by Emily Fishman

he uprising in Egypt has taken the international media by storm. Since protests broke out on the streets of Cairo on January 25, headlines have been flooded with accounts of upheaval, revolution, and concern over the future of a nation and a region. For many, however, it remains unclear just how indicative news coverage has been of the situation on the ground. Among those questioning media’s role in the wake of Egypt’s turmoil is Amanda Labora, B’12, who was studying in Alexandria with Middlebury College when the protesting began. She believes that the Western media, in its portrayal of violence and religion in Egypt, is painting a skewed picture of the true state of affairs.

Labora has been in almost constant contact with Egyptian friends since she returned to the States from Alexandria last week. She and other students from her Middlebury language program have compiled interviews with professors at the University of Alexandria in PDF format for the press, as well as translated Facebook chat conversations between Egyptians and Americans. While sifting through the documents, she adds as an aside, “Right now someone is chatting with me as we speak. I ask them what the news is, how they are doing.” Then she pulls up a typical news headline from the New York Times—“West Backs Gradual Egyptian Transition.” She looks indignant. “Who cares about US policy in Egypt? This is all through a Western lens.

But to me, the Egyptian people’s words are what’s important.”

In the United States, the news from Egypt has focused nearly exclusively on Cairo, and on the mass violence that purportedly characterizes the protest movement. While violence has certainly been demonizing Egypt, Amanda explains that the media has not adequately depicted who the protestors are—and who they aren’t. The protesters, she stresses, are not the thugs who are wreaking havoc on the streets. On the contrary, much of the violence in Egyptian cities has been the result of Mubarak’s effort to generate chaos as a

mechanism to delegitimize his opposition.

The idea is that once enough chaos reigns, the people, whose primary grievance is security, will demand the reestablishment of the police force Mubarak disbanded soon after the protests began. To make security matters even worse, thousands of prisoners escaped during overnight mass breakouts across Egypt; many suspect that Mubarak was complicit in their liberation. Amanda presented a hypothetical situation: “Imagine if the whole police force just left New York City and all of the state prisoners escaped with weapons.”

In the face of the collapsed security apparatus, however, ordinary Egyptians— citizens young and old who are calling for change—have stepped in where the old system has collapsed: “Even when the police had left [Alexandria], I woke up the next day, and I could see from the balcony [that] people had taken up the role of traffic cop on the corner.” The protesters are the ones keeping the cities running, picking up after their own protests, and taking care of their fellow Egyptians. “Doctors are going out into the streets, [there is] medical care for free, [there is] a sense of community. In a situation that is complete chaos, Egyptians are stepping up to help each other.”

Among those providing security in the unrest are civilian militias. Composed of individuals from every neighborhood in Alexandria, they take it upon themselves to protect families from armed looters.

Wessam El-Maligi is a professor of Arabic Literature at the University of Alexandria, a Fulbright Scholar and former professor at Macalester College in the States.

He also is a member of a neighborhood militia, and as soon as riots broke out, he left the University to join the civilians protecting his family’s village.

Another major misconception about the uprising is that it is intrinsically linked to Islam, and that Egyptian society is antiChristian. In light of recent attacks on the Christian community in Egypt—including a car bomb explosion outside of an Alexandria church on New Year’s Day— Amanda was nervous about the Egyptian

Muslims’ attitude toward Christians in the nation. What she found, however, was that ordinary Egyptians are not calling for radical Islamic government; their call for change is not rooted in religious fury or intolerance. “[In Alexandria] I lived with women who were from the countryside, and were much more conservative. I was asking them about the church attack, and also about the Muslim Brotherhood. I was very surprised by the answers. They are very by the book about their religion, but everyone I talked to said that it wouldn’t be fair to have a government that was Muslim when 10% of Egyptians are Christian.”

Doctor Nehad Heliel is director of the Middlebury School in Alexandria, and has been an active participant in the protests. Dr. Nehad is Muslim, but she does not wear the veil. Because of this, many Egyptians assume she is Christian. However, Amanda recalls how other Muslim protestors interacted with Nehad: “They were telling her, ‘Whether you’re Christian or not, you’re our sister as well.’ Everyone was mistaking her for a Christian and going out of their way to tell her she is one of them.”

It’s also important to note that the Muslim Brotherhood in Egypt—the main opposition to the National Democratic Party—is first and foremost an administrator of social services. “We are part of the people,” Mahmoud Izzat, Secretary General of the Muslim Brotherhood, told AlJazeera TV. “The people are demanding the basics—mainly the necessities of life— and they have the right to do so.”

Amanda’s effort has been to get as many press sources as possible in touch with Egyptians on the ground. Because American news sources are harping on the international implications of an Egyptian revolution, attention is being diverted from the events unfolding in real time. After all, to quote Amanda, “This is Egypt’s revolution.” Amanda’s fear is that the rest of the world will “lose sight of the people, the Egyptians. You get a mob rather than a collective of individuals.”

FEBRUARY 10 2011 | THE COLLEGE HILL INDEPENDENT | www.THEINDY.org

RADWA: “I’ve never seen anything like it […] not in 10 years of living here. It’s beyond what you could imagine. I’ve seen incredible, wonderful things happening. People having been coming and giving out things for free, today we had some of the garbage collectors come out and collect garbage for free. It’s an amazing sense of community, it’s like the government has been bringing out the worst in people for so, so, long, and this is finally bringing out the best in people. I mean, there’s no sexual harassment – NOTHING! Can you imagine that?

I finally feel safe walking around the people I’ve been afraid of for most of my life. I’ve been walking in a crowd of men all day, and not a single person has touched me, or grabbed me.”

Phone Conversation with Radwa al�Barouni, Translator and teacher in Alexandria; Friday (2/4) 8:29am EST

NEWS | 4

5 |METRO

FEBRUARY 10 2011| THE COLLEGE HILL INDEPENDENT | www.THEINDY.org

WHILE YOU WERE OUT: Life in Providence in the Past Month THERE WAS SOME SNOW Some time in mid-January, the word “snowpocalypse” stopped being ironic.

Birds had fallen from the sky only weeks earlier, so it wasn’t much of a stretch to associate snow and ice in forty-nine states with impending doom. People on buses joked with one another about the end times, laughed, looked out the window at the grey mess piling up on the side of the road, sat back, and became uncharacteristically quiet.

That’s if they could manage to get on a bus—as of February 6, thirteen RIPTA

routes are delayed and detoured until further notice, because snow banks have made roads (including parts of Hope Street) too narrow. According to the Providence Journal, 45.9 inches of snow and ice have fallen at T.F. Green airport so far this winter. February is expected to bring more. (The average yearly snowfall in Rhode Island is about 36 inches.)

The accumulated mess didn’t only pose problems for bus commuters. Ten Providence mail carriers have been injured this winter from slipping and falling

on the ice or from being struck by cars while walking in the road. Parts of I-95 flooded when rain couldn’t flow into frozen-over storm drains. On February 3, the roof caved in at Capt. Isaac Paine Elementary School in Foster, leaving students worried about the fate of a special stuffed elephant trapped in the rubble. Duck boots are backordered on L.L. Bean.com.

Meanwhile, across the Internet, grizzled Rhode Islanders called us out on our lack of hardiness: the winter of 19951996, they say, was much worse. -EB

RI LOSES AMERICA’S CUP BID [SOFTWARE IS THE NEW RAILROAD] Before Saint Tropez’s Lamborghini races and Cancun’s wet t-shirt contests, Newport had regattas. On July 30, 1937, society’s upper crust prepared for the city’s second America’s Cup race, the world’s oldest and most famous yachting event.

Debs lounged on the beach “bare-legged in cork-heeled shoes…with sun tanned men in white flannels, sports coats and yachting caps,” observed a Montreal society reporter. That night at a rustic “barn dance” thrown by the Vanderbilts, everyone dressed up in gingham and munched on novelty foods like corn beef hash and blueberry pie, [What a wonderful party, this was fantastically delicious.] prepared by the 30-some servants of Belcourt Castle. The next day, challenger Sir Thomas Sopwith’s Endeavor II lost to Harold Vanderbilt’s Rainbow, all in good Gastbian fun.

[I sailed with Harry in this race. . .the first woman ever to compete in an America’s cup race!] The cup race was held every

four years in Newport until 1983, when it was won by an Australian team and moved to Fremantle.

In 2013, with San Francisco team Oracle defending their title, the cup was set to return to the U.S. And while Rhode Island’s hoedowns have weaned, its harbor has remained. When plans with their home city unraveled in mid-December, Oracle pushed Rhode Island to make a last-minute bid for the race. The Rhode Island Economic Development Corporation (RIEDC) spent three weeks banging out a proposal, despite some obvious kinks, such as how to pay for a $30-50 million renovation of Newport’s Fort Adams in an already strained budget. The deal would have added 8,000 jobs and $1.1 billion to the state’s economy, according to

Five snowiest winters in Rhode Island, ever.

1906-1907: 71.4” 1947-1948: 72.9” 1977-1978: 70.2” (blizzard of ‘78) 1995-1996: 105.2” 2004-2005: 72.2”

RIEDC director Keith Stokes.

New Years Eve 2010 was not a party at RIDEC. Despite their scrambling, Stokes and co. missed the New Years Eve deadline, hearing the announcement about San Francisco’s win that same day via west coast newssources before they were contacted by the Oracle reps. [ouch!] Oracle insists Newport’s loss has nothing to do with the fact that the RIEDC missed the deadline by a day. They also insist that they were truly considering Newport, not just using it as a lever to get San Francisco to commit to leasing a large portion of its waterfront property to Oracle and its software billionaire owner Larry Ellison.

-AH

(source: ProJo)

SERIOUS BUSINESS

Illustration by Charis Loke

The Rhode Island General Assembly’s new legislative session began on January 4 with more whimper than bang, as per usual. The first bills introduced were routine: a bill authorizing a Tiverton woman to perform a marriage, bills expressing condolences for the deaths of notable citizens, a bill congratulating a new Eagle Scout, a bill declaring January 14, 2011 as “Westerly Lions Club Day.” On January 6, the House celebrated Epiphany by passing H5005, which reads: “it is the policy of the state that state officials and departments refer to the tree customarily erected or displayed in celebration of the period from Thanksgiving of each year to January of the following year as a ‘Christmas tree’ and not as a ‘holiday tree’ or other non-traditional terms.”

Another semantic question received more notice. Bills to expand the state’s definition of marriage to include same-sex couples were introduced in both chambers on February 11. A Wednesday hearing on the bill followed a number of other hearings on controversial bills that had been postponed because of the snow; this list included a bill that would require the state government and private companies with whom it contracts to use the E-Verify citizenship verification program, and a bill supported by anti-domestic violence groups that would make strangulation a felony. (It is currently a misdemeanor.)

On both days, the hearings lasted for hours. Some questions brought new light to old issues. Others drifted into the arcane or even the absurd. On Wednesday, enough people came to the gay marriage hearing that it was simulcast in alcoves of the State House, where supporters and opponents came together to feign friendliness, check their Blackberries, and try to hear through the television static.

-EB

FEBRUARY 10 2011 | THE COLLEGE HILL INDEPENDENT | www.THEINDY.org

BUDDY CIANCI’S JANUARY DIARY

by Emma Berry, Malcolm Burnley & Alice Hines

Dear Diary, Governor Chafee, I’m beginning to think you don’t like me. Before you stormed into office last November with a whopping 36% of the vote running as an Independent, you refused to come on my WPRO Radio Show because of my “disgraceful conduct” as a former Mayor of Providence.

Your campaign slogan—“Trust Chafee”—was a subtle shot at my kind of Rhode Island politics, the creative governing I implemented for 21 years as Mayor—which coincidentally earned me a 5-year federal sentence for racketeering conspiracy in 2001—what you described as a “criminal enterprise from Providence City Hall.”

Thus far in 2011, you’ve continued to blast me. In January, you rode a high horse to the governor’s chair vowing to clean up Rhode Island’s reputation for “corruption and cronyism,” delivering an inauguration speech flooded with civic virtue, saying: “I will not rest until we reclaim the promise that lay in the heart of our founder Roger Williams some 375 years ago.” It’s true you’re not a two-time convicted felon like yours truly, but what are your plans for Rhode Island’s economy? On the day of your swearing-in, you didn’t speak the words “unemployment” or “jobless rate” once.

Economic Recovery? Recession? Stimulus? Nope, nope, not once. Instead, you chose to invoke Roger Williams’s name (who was a puritan reject, I might add) a staggering seven times in your speech. And what have you done on the economic front since Inauguration day? You delayed a state budget proposal until March (the government is estimated to be $300 million in debt), made little progress on pension reform, and paid 38 studios —Curt Schilling’s Video Game Company that was awarded a $75 million state loan last year—another $9.4 million in taxpayer money, despite coming out against the deal in September.

Along the campaign trail, you declined to appear on my show out of an “ethical obligation,” but on January 11th, you stirred national headlines by banning talk radio appearances altogether, for every member of your administration.

Previously, you’ve described my Mayoral reign as “a gross abuse of the public trust,” but your ban on talk radio violates a public contract as well by avoiding media scrutiny. According to you, talk radio is “more entertainment than journalism,” but you seem most intent on dodging me, Buddy Cianci. Are you scared, Governor?

-MB

METRO| 6

7 |FEATURES

FEBRUARY 10 2011 | THE COLLEGE HILL INDEPENDENT | www.THEINDY.org

UNLUCKY THIRTEEN

How everything you thought about your zodiac sign…probably hasn’t changed.

NEW SIGN ON THE BLOCK The setting: the ecliptic—the perceived path traced by the Sun in the sky over the course of a year, within which are located the houses of the zodiac, what we know as the twelve familiar star signs.

Enter Ophiuchus (Oh–Fee–You– Cuss).

With an unpronounceable name derived from the Greek for serpent holder, the constellation is based on Asclepius, a great healer in Greek mythology who could reputedly bring people back from the dead with his medicinal powers. He is a natural choice for addition to the zodiac: the personality traits allegedly associated with the sign include charisma, drive to succeed, and impulse—not to mention the fact that he has a ferocious pet snake.

Cut to Cetus, the sea-monster, not so affectionately dubbed “the whale.” His moment of glory, after wreaking havoc on behalf of Poseidon in Greek mythology, passed in the seventies, when astrologer Stephen Schmidt proposed his inclusion in a 14-sign zodiac. Judging from the fact that no one has a Cetus tattoo, the plan was largely unsuccessful, and Cetus remains the long-forgotten constellation in the corner.

Aries Taurus Gemini Cancer Leo Virgo Libra Scorpio Ophiuchus Sagittarius Capricorn

WHAT’S IN THE STARS FOR OPHIUCHUS? The confusion of the new sign centers around two fundamental differences in the occult world. One is the divide between western and eastern astrology. Western astrology is solar-based, determined by the position of the Earth in relation to fixed points in the sun’s perceived path across the Earth (remember the ecliptic?).

Aside from the fact that a thirteenth sign brings up questions of superstition and misfortune, astrologers in the west maintain that since the system is based on the Earth’s relation to predetermined points in the sky—not the relative positions of the constellations—any rotational shift would have no effect on the division of the zodiac as it currently stands. Eastern astrology, on the other hand, is concerned with the location of the Earth at a specific moment in time in relation to the constellations, taking into account any change in relative positioning. This requires acknowledgment of the other constellations present in the ecliptic, namely Ophiuchus and Cetus, and the effect of Earth’s wobble on the actual zodiac dates.

Kunkle also brings up the not-so-fine line between astronomy and astrology, a difference affirmed with pride on the side of the astrologers, and unmasked derision by astronomers. Astrology, with little agreed-upon scientific proof, has long been denounced as a pseudoscience with no credibility or verifiability, yet remains

March 21 - April 19 April 20 - May 20 May 21 - June 20 June 21 - July 22 July 23 - August 22 August 23 - September 22 September 23 - October 22 October 23 - November 21 November 22 - December 21 December 22 - January 19

one of the most widespread of the occult arts.

Whether or not you believe in the divine power of the stars, there is no need to freak out. Your personality is not suddenly different. A Sagittarius will not have to give up his natural predilection for hiking to become a flamboyantly dressed builder who makes people jealous (proposed personality traits for the ‘new sign’). If you’re into Ophiuchus, go for it. After all, Taylor Swift and Brad Pitt are now Ophiuchus too. If not, don’t worry. According to mainstream astrologers, the presence of these additional constellations has no effect on the distribution of the signs.

Kunkle’s remark on a well-known planetary phenomenon was unintentionally transformed from a simple observation of the skies to the fuel for an internet-wide identity crisis—a misunderstanding of astronomical proportions.

BELLE CUSHING ’13 is a proud Leo.

newdates

INDY’S GUIDE TO THE GALAXY For those among you whose knowledge of astrology doesn’t extend past checking the back pages of newspapers to find out if this month is a good time for financial transactions (or if there’s some steamy sex in your future), astrology is actually a bit more complex. This form of divination centers on the location of the Earth in relation to other celestial bodies at a specific moment. By charting the position of the stars and planets at an exact time of birth, astrologers maintain that they can to determine certain personality traits, tendencies, and possible future life paths.

In his most influential career move to date, Kunkle, an astronomy professor at Minneapolis Community and Technical College, brought Ophiuchus back into the picture. In an article that first appeared in the Minneapolis Star Tribune, Kunkle affirmed that the dates assigned to each zodiac sign were factually inaccurate.

This declaration is based on the tilt in the Earth’s axis, causing the Earth to spin on its axis once every 26,000 years. The axis

essentially traces out two cones joined at their apices, much like an extremely slowgoing top. Thus, in the thousands of years since astrological signs were first created, the dates assigned to certain signs have shifted from their original designations.

Not only are all the signs about a month off target, the constellation Ophiuchus, located in the sky in between Sagittarius and Aries, could also be counted among the constellations as a thirteenth zodiac sign. Though his claim is astronomically accurate, it’s unclear why Kunkle should have focused his attentions on Ophiuchus (aside from the Greek healer’s allegedly rugged good looks) over another constellation, Cetus, which also falls within the twelve houses of the zodiac.

The question raised by Kunkle is not a new or revolutionary concept. Due to Earth’s slight wobble on its axis, a phenomenon called axial precession, Earth’s location to the stars has been drifting for millennia. Astrologists claim to have been aware of this since the time of Ptolemy.

Forms of sidereal astrology, some including 13 or 14 sign zodiacs, have come into existence in the past century. Most notable was the suggestion in 1995 of prominent astrologer Walter Berg, who proposed the addition of Ophiuchus to the zodiac, even producing a design for the potential thirteenth sign. Apparently he did not foresee potential responses from bloggers to his oddly phallic sign.

conventionaldates

t was bitterly cold in Minnesota that day. The fateful Monday in January when astronomy professor Parke Kunkle made the statement that would forever change the response to the classic pickup “What’s your sign?” The day that, after thousands of years of rejection and neglect by astrologers from Ptolemy to Mother Mystic, Ophiuchus was put back on the star map.

The internet exploded with reports of a new sign and sudden personality changes. People that had always identified as Aries were suddenly faced with the prospect of being Pisces. Twitter and blogs found themselves inundated with varied responses: Rage: “Bullllll**** come on, they’re meaning to tell me I’ve been living 20 years as a Sagittarius and all of the sudden I’m a freaking serpant bearer? Hell no.”

Apathy: “itzz…whatevzz” Quiet acceptance: “i guess my tattoos dont matter anymore......”

Reluctant helplessness in the face of fate: “I’m having a hard time letting go cuz I fit more as a Gemini then I do a Cancer {sigh} oh well =P” Prejudice: “Has anyone actually SEEN the symbol for the new zodiac Ophiuchus?

Gayest sign I’ve ever seen in my life.”

Unbridled enthusiasm: I embrace this new zodiac with open arms!! I AM OPHIUCHUS...no doubt about it!!

It seems, however, that bloggers’ passionate loyalty to a symbol (based on a pseudoscience that many of them don’t even believe) won’t have to be tested after all.

signs

I

by Belle Cushing

April 18 - May 13 May 13 - June 21 June 21 - July 20 July 20 - August 10 August 10 - September 16 September 16 - October 30 October 30 - November 23 November 23 - November 29 November 29 - December 17 December 17 - January 20 January 20 - February 16

FEBRUARY 10 2011 | THE COLLEGE HILL INDEPENDENT | www.THEINDY.org

Museums Held Hostage

By Olivia Fagon, Illustrations by Annika Finne

How political partisanship and opportunism censor art

I

n January 2010, Smithsonian Secretary Wayne Clough decided to pull a four-minute video portrait by artist David Wojnarowicz entitled Fire in the Belly (1987) from “Hide/ Seek: Difference in Desire in American Contemporary Art,” an exhibition of works by queer and gay artists at the Smithsonian National Portrait Gallery. The video is an edited version of a 72-minute art film. The pulled piece depicts images of the artist with his mouth sewn shut, and a naked Christ figure moaning and screaming, splayed on a cross covered in ants. There has been considerable backlash in the art community—including the exhibit’s sponsors (two of whom have retracted their funding), other curatorial institutions, protesters ,and individual artists—have been extremely critical of what they label an act of censorship.

This case bears an unsettling resemblance to one in June 1989, when under congressional and public pressure, the Corcoran Gallery of Art in Washington, DC cancelled the scheduled exhibition by artist Robert Mapplethorpe.

“Robert Mapplethorpe: The Perfect Moment” consisted of 150 photographs of the artist’s works. Mapplethorpe was known for his graphic depictions of subsets of American society, and many of the photographs in his exhibit contained controversial images: displays of sadomasochism, extreme close-ups of crotches, and nude children (not provocatively posed). Many of his works made no explicit sexual reference, and his most graphic material was placed in age-restricted cases within the exhibit. The Corcoran was heavily criticized by the arts community for its decision to bow to political pressure, and for refusing to sacrifice their federal funding for the integrity of their institution.

In August 1989, another provocative and heavily publicized debate surrounded

artist Andres Serrano’s piece entitled “Piss Christ,” a photograph composed of Christ’s image submerged in Serrano’s urine. Serrano had received nearly $30,000 for the project from the National Endowment of the Arts, a federally funded institution that distributes grants to support artistic production. These acts of censorship are similar in that they came either directly or because of pressure from elected officials in Congress.

Culture Wars Rage By the late ‘80s, conservatives in power realized they could strengthen their political platform by attacking controversial art—what they called “morally reprehensible trash”—and trying to censor it, both by threatening cultural institutions with the withdrawal of federal funds, and by holding institutions publicly accountable for the content of exhibited work.

In 1989, North Carolina State Senator Jesse Helms threatened to remove the Corcoran’s federal funding if they showed Mapplethorpe’s work. The Corcoran subsequently canceled the show.

Helms expressed his outrage over the Mapplethorpe exhibition through homophobic rhetoric, equating homosexuality with indecency and moral corruption in order to justify censorship. Helms stated that “the American people... are disgusted with the idea of giving the taxpayers› money to artists who promote homosexuality insidiously and deliberately.” Today, the right wing conservative faction can no longer employ overtly bigoted arguments, but the issue of public funding and taxpayers’ rights has proved to be a compelling conservative argument.

In response to the Wojnarowicz scandal this January, Speaker of the House John Boehner stated, “American families have a right to expect better then this from recipients of

taxpayer funds in a tough economy.” Boehner and Republican Whip Eric Cantorboth called for the complete dismantling of the exhibit and a serious congressional review of the Portrait Gallery’s budget. Helms’ 1989 argument for censorship still holds, as both Helms and Boehner were able to argue that the art in question was religiously and morally offensive, and that the federally funded status of the Corcoran and the Portrait Gallery as well as the NEA grant support meant that the work chosen for exhibition was somehow under federal control. (Actually, though federal funds support the building, private funds supported the Hide/Seek exhibition.)

Boehner and conservatives have shifted the issue so that the victim in these debates is no longer the marginalized homosexual, nor the censored artist, but is instead the innocent Christian taxpayer forced to give up their hard earned money to fund gay Jesus art.

The continual invocation of the abused taxpayer argument represents the tension between federally funded artwork, and the moral allegiances of federal politicians.

Inarguably, Washington museums are prey to the most federal presence, and an institution’s ability to maintain political neutrality in DC is difficult. As the nation’s capital, everything in DC is subject to an exaggerated symbolic significance. In fact, Mapplethorpe’s exhibition opened without controversy in both Philadelphia and Chicago, and only became a point of contention in the weeks leading up to its DC show.

The words “Dedicated to Art” are etched onto the front façade of the Corcoran Gallery and appear in their mission statement, indicating a responsibility to protect and maintain artistic expression.

Prudence or Bigotry?

Initially, the Portrait Gallery demonstrated a definite progressive forward thinking, when it bucked convention and chose to house an exhibit of exclusively gay artists. That intent in itself would suggest that strides have been made in regards to queer artistic visibility and acknowledgment. It’s troubling that the bigoted reasons for canceling Mapplethorpe’s show in 1989 find so much resonance more than twenty years later in the decision to remove Wojnarowicz’s video.

Since the Mapplethorpe controversy, gay civil rights and tolerance of homosexuality has progressed, matched by a definite increase in mainstream gay/queer visibility. Yet with the recent increase in homophobic bullying and teen suicide, the gay civil rights debate, and the resurgence of religion-based politics, homophobia and homosexuality remain provocative issues.

Both cases of censorship are indicative of a cultural equation that continues to be made: any display of homosexuality = graphic and prurient moral indecency being crammed down conservative throats. Discomfort over the physical act of gay sex (which some of Mapplethorpe’s work explicitly depicted) and an anxiety over the boundaries of homosexual identity (which Wojnarowicz engaged by fusing religious martyrdom, homosexual persecution, and HIV/AIDs suffering) gave both works the potential for controversy.

What both Mapplethorpe’s and Wojnarowicz’s works do best is show the permeability of racial, sexual, religious and gender lines, in order to complicate the ‘otherness’ of those groups. This makes both works threatening to those who still want to maintain a mutual exclusivity between morality and homosexuality, and worthy of silencing.

Sexual Opportunism Yet the controversy surrounding both events is not fundamentally about religion, nor exploited federal funds.Yes, they are driven by homophobia and bigotry, but the impetus for censoring Mapplethorpe’s and Wojnarowicz’s work is that, for both Helms and Boehner, they offer a unique political opportunity. It’s not as if Boehner and the GOP don’t have pertinent issues like WikiLeaks or the crisis in Egypt to discuss, or maybe even the critical condition of our economy. But the immensity and

ARTS| 8

urgency of these current problems don’t offer the frenzied media hype and publicity that fuel politicians’ public image and political agenda.

Because Mapplethorpe’s and Wojnarowicz’s work brings up charged subjects of religion and homosexuality, their censorship, easily done because of the federal status of their venues, are highly publicized but quickly resolved issues, that present Boehner and Helms as effective political and moral forces.

Both Helms and Boehner resisted labeling their campaigns as censorship, but the difference between censorship and controlling the distribution of taxpayers’ dollars on a moral basis is unclear. Our tax system is based on a shared contribution in which we sacrifice not just funds, but the right to, outside of voting, directly decide how those funds will be used. If we use art’s funding to subsidize general taste, then we risk making the precarious position of marginalized or minority artists more unstable. The benefit of living in a capitalist society is that the majority’s cultural demands are satisfied by the market (e.g. Hollywood, best-seller books, gold selling albums). Cooperation between museums and federal funding has the potential to create a crucial safety net for artists like Mapplethorpe and Wojnarowicz who, because of their sexuality and the content of their work,are denied access to this market.

Visible Margins Ultimately, the fact that art in its entirety still has to convince a large portion of the US of its basic necessity, something worthy of federal aid, has a lot to do with why it continues from 1989 to 2011 to be the target of conservative budget cutting arguments. The double bind of federal funding is that it invests and supports American artistic production, but leaves artistic institutions vulnerable to bureaucratic influence and political pressure. Both the Mapplethorpe controversy and the current Fire in the Belly issue beg the question of how we can fund and show art denied mainstream acceptance, yet with perhaps the most relevant social and cultural commentary, with the same visibility that federally supported art receives in an independent, and non-political way.

If OLIVIA FAGON B’13 had the choice between gay art or straight art, she would choose gay art.

their forearms with tattoos reading “El rap es guerra” (rap is war).

They glare into cameras, spout revolutionary rhetoric intended to endow the marginalized Afrocuban sector of the population with a space for discourse, with a voice. They don’t explicitly criticize the ideals of the Castro regime—that’s grounds for imprisonment. But they criticize much of what it’s created.

Their ‘message’ reveals as much about the social fabric of contemporary Cuba as it does about the broader conversation between hip-hop and politics. The American media’s depiction of that message, moreover, bespeaks a transient idea of what constitutes a revolution today.

t first glance you’d think you were watching a classic old-school underground rap battle: the MC takes the smoky stage in a Yankees fitted flat brim. He holds the mic in one hand and waves the other in the air. The crowd presses up against the stage; the lights are bright; he spits lyrics like: “As much as you try you cannot be happy/You can’t find the solution to your problems/You always feel like you’re at home alone/The hope of a country dies with you.”

Fairly run-of-the-mill. Except for one major difference: the setting is Cuba in February 2010, at a state-endorsed rap festival called La Rotilla, ‘the rap’ in Spanish. The rappers are Aldo and El B of the group Los Aldeanos, and their indictments of the Cuban social reality are biting, especially considering the Castro regime’s stance on freedom of speech: the country has the second-highest number of jailed journalists in the world, and the government controls all official media outlets.

Los Aldeanos is one of a very small number of Cuban rap acts at the festival that vehemently rejects the state support the Cuban government has offered them. In light of this context, the scene becomes infinitely sexier to the Western eye: it’s rebellion on rebellion, revolutionary sentiments criticizing the most revolutionary regime in modern Western history.

The result is in some ways a hypersymbolic, easily-appropriated picture of ‘political’ rap: Aldo and El B have emblazoned

Rap in Cuba has grown over the last 20 years out of a social space that was by definition subversive: it was first popularized in the early 1990s, when gangsta rap dominated US radio airwaves and could be picked up illegally in a Havana housing project called Alamar from stations broadcasting in Miami.

Around the same time, Cuba was reeling from the fall of the Soviet Union, its primary historical trading partner. Between 1989, the year before the start of the crisis, and 1993, one of its worst years, GDP in Cuba fell by 35 percent. In 1991, Fidel Castro announced the dawn of the euphemistically-named Período Especial en Tiempo de Paz (Special Period in Time of Peace), which placed harsh economic and living standard restrictions on Cuban citizens. The situation was dire: brownouts, famine, medicine shortages. In 1993 the Cuban government decriminalized possession of the dollar out of necessity, and the self-imposed isolation that contributed to Cuba’s mystique for Westerners slowly began to dissolve.

Cuba opened itself to tourism and remittance capital, and with that opening came a “second economy” which operated on an exponentially greater monetary scale than did Cuba’s socialist economy. For example, jineteros, Cuban hustlers who help tourists out finding cheap cigars and prostitutes, can make ten or twenty times more in a week than a Cuban government worker does. Remittances, for their part, come mainly from the white Cuban diaspora and fall into the hands of the white Cuban population.

In “Notes on Man and Socialism in Cuba,” Che Guevera alludes to the “close dialectical unity between the individual and the mass, in which the mass… is interconnected with individuals”—but in the Cuban reality, there was and is little to no official acknowledgement of racial inequity. Cuban law claims the country has overcome racial discrimination and achieved “no institutional racism”—in other words, that the equalizing goals of the revolution have been achieved. But poverty, economic inequality, and racial discrimination are social realities in Cuba despite the official doctrine of denial. This incongruity between official discourse and reality is largely what rappers like Los Aldeanos seek to address: “I don’t marginalize myself,” El B quips in “Letra de amor” (“Love Letter”).

The Cuban government was initially suspicious of rap and its association with American culture. But with the assistance of Cuban rap producer Pablo Herrera, rap music began to garner some support from the Cuban state. In 1999, Minister of culture Abel Prieto declared rap an “authentic form of Cuban culture,” and the burgeoning Cuban rap movement soon became associated with the state youth group Asociación Hermanos Saíz, which was a source of logistical support for the organizers of the Rotilla festival where Los Aldeanos performed.

Involvement in rap grew in 2002 with the establishment of the Agencia Cubana de Rap. Rap became increasingly popular, and state sponsorship became an important step to proliferation and popularization in the Cuban rap scene, even though rap was

often critical of the state. Various observers have speculated that the state either embraced the music to garner some control over it, or that it did so out of a genuine appreciation for rap as an organic art form of the Cuban masses. Whatever the motivation, the allowance made a first and tentative rip in the Cuban government’s stranglehold on political discourse in the media.

And so Cuban rap flourished, borrowing heavily from American rap tropes, but also reappropriating them. In one Aldeanos video, for example, El B waves a stack of bills in the camera lens—but then raps about his dream of the national currency being worth more than the Euro. As a whole, however, Cuban rap espouses gangsta rap aesthetics more closely today than the American rap scene does, and Cuban and American commentators like Joel del Rio have lauded it for preserving the “original spirit of hip-hop.” Whatever that means.

Traditionally, we in the US have seen Cuban music as the product of a culture we can’t touch, the product of something immune to the far-reaching tendrils of globalization. When Ry Cooder and Wim Wenders made the Buena Vista Social Club documentary, critics lauded the group’s music for its ‘authenticity’ and ‘antispectacle,’ values derived from Cuba’s global isolation and rejection of capitalism in a world where music was perceived as becoming increasingly commercialized. The music was largely apolitical, good for dancing. But, as José Quiroga writes, when we use music as a litmus test for cultural standards, as we do when we listen to ‘Cuban’ music, we expect it to project and communicate “certain kinds of values” about the culture as a whole. In other words, the generally apolitical nature of this ‘traditional Cuban music’ promoted a global conception of Cuban culture and politics as discrete or without tension. To the Western eye, Cuba became a haven of political consensus or apathy, where island music played and the state gave you free doctors (see: Michael Moore’s Sicko).

Perhaps the “authenticity” we’ve tended to find in rappers like Los Aldeanos is simply a more politicized version of the same voyeuristic objectification with which we viewed Buena Vista. As a whole, our fascination with Cuba has long been driven by an almost morbid curiosity, a desire to see an exotic, forbidden, and threatened way of life. (Paradoxically, the process of firsthand ‘seeing’—tourism—further threatens the ideology of the Revolution by drawing in foreign capital.) And as the Cuban economy opens more and more to foreign capital and with a decrepit Fidel having passed power to his brother in 2008, we’re ready to label the Cuban political dream as illusory and rappers’ political dissent as a new romantic form of revolution.

CNN wrote in a 2009 expose on Los Aldeanos that “what makes Cuban rappers different is that rather than celebrating bling, girls, and guns, their lyrics address social issues in a country where free speech is tightly controlled.” The statement is a ‘left’ mass media wet dream—it manages to rip on Cuba for censorship and celebrate ‘revolutionary ideology’ at the same time. It depicts Cuban rap as a pure or undiluted form of old-school political rap, immune to commercialization, purely an agent of social change.

The rhetoric sounds eerily similar to the initial media reception of America’s ‘political’ rap. An Entertainment Weekly review of Public Enemy’s Fear of a Black Planet said: “it [the album] stitches voices together to give the impression of a vast community… fists in the air to demand change. There›s nothing in pop music quite like it. It sounds like a partly African, partly postmodern collage, stitched together on tumultuous urban streets.”

In both cases, Westerners idealized rap as a political tool, as

a method of social change. And it certainly is—for some rappers. But from whom, exactly, are such rappers demanding this change? In the Cuban context, do we as American voyeurs have the right to assign these artists political goals? We want to brand the movement counterrevolutionary, but the real object of blame is nebulous. Rap is a form of cultural expression and a site of pleasure, and not necessarily a political platform.

Yet the American public has been weirdly hasty to give rap in Cuba a stated sociopolitical goal, an object, though there is little consistency in what this object is. The Miami New Times described Los Aldeanos as “virulently anti-government and explicitly anti-Fidel” when they performed in Miami this November, fitting the group nicely into an idea of a New Cuban Revolutionary generation, rebelling against the blights of the Special Period. But the very same concert drew right-wing Cuban expatriate protesters, angry that the venue was supporting what they considered a pro-communist act.

Los Aldeanos, for their part, reject political alignment and advocate more general social change. They also help to open a space for marginalized discourse in politically-stifled Cuba. “We are not in agreement with any political system, the one here or the one you have,” Aldo told the New York Times in 2006. Their lyrics eschew opposing political options with equal virulence: “You local managers don’t understand me!” (state support is out), and “I have no time for famous photos and autographs/I have a revolution to create with my pen” (but so is a glamorous capitalist record deal).

Obviously these one-line binaries aren’t sufficient to explain Los Aldeanos’ political standpoint. But they illuminate the bizarrely polarizing effect the idea of the Cuban rapper has created in American culture—the group doesn’t espouse one message or standpoint, but, according to its Wordpress, rather aims to “create… musical dialogues between artists and their respective worldwide communities, using hip-hop as a tool for social change.” Yet we’re obsessed with endowing the group with a subversive political end. We want to watch the rappers stage a revolution against an ideologically muddled state. That way, we get to believe in revolutions again without exorcising Joe McCarthy’s ghost for good.

Our eagerness to view political Cuban rappers as revolutionaries and neo-Guevaras bespeaks a more general modern disconnect between political symbolism and political activism—specifically, a conflation of revolution and dissent. We wear the t-shirt; we like the general idea, but we don’t know the policy. Insofar as rap is one of the freer forms of political dissent in Cuba, perhaps our desire to call the movement revolutionary relates to a broader lack of stringency regarding what constitutes a revolution. Revolutions seek change, but historically, they’ve also made ideological demands. Conversely, recent uprisings like the Greek Riots of 2008 have rejected the political status quo without proposing a set alternative to it.

Paired with the organizing avenues created by new media, this makes for a more organic form of revolution—but also, perhaps, one less likely to succeed in the long run. As the Cuban state opens and we hear dissenting cries from within it, we turn our heads to hear the battle cries of the legacy of the Eastern Bloc. But let’s be cautious in taking political art for overthrow, because such an overthrow is not ours to shape.

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FEBRUARY 10 2011 | THE COLLEGE HILL INDEPENDENT | www.THEINDY.org

WYNWOOD RISING The SoHo effect migrates to South Florida.

D

riving through the Wynwood Art District in downtown Miami can be a perplexing experience.

Google Maps warns pedestrians against walking around in the area due to the lack of sidewalks, but merely cruising by one of Wynwood’s several street art parks or galleries doesn’t really do this bubbling art scene justice. This small contradiction is one of many that can only be attributed to the general identity crisis the locale has undergone in the past decade. Calling the community a “rough neighborhood” is an understatement. Calling it the most notable, up-and-coming art center south of New York City isn’t.

The transformation of Wynwood from a run-down, Puerto Rican ghetto to the hip art-scene center of Miami happened surprisingly quickly. Just 20 years ago, the area was a mostly Latin, blue-collar neighborhood of little importance to the art-scene elite. As long-time resident Katheleen Bonello told The Star (Toronto), the district soon “became a slum” by the early ‘90s, marked by poverty and race riots. Over the next decade, a wide array of vacant warehouse spaces, which used to store unloaded goods from the nearby train tracks, began housing local artists and start-up galleries. Most of these artists had been unable to afford properties in the pricier Design District and Miami Beach, Miami’s former art hubs. At this point in the mid ‘90s, Wynwood was still a couple streets of windowless warehouses with some local gang graffiti next to an empty train yard—which, ironically, is now the site of the new Midtown Mall.

ARTSY TENDENCIES BECOME ARTSY IDENTITIES Enter eminent developer and so-called urban Renaissance man Tony Goldman. Goldman first earned some notoriety back in the ‘70s, when he took an industrial no-man’s-land better known as “Hell’s Hundred Acres” in lower Manhattan and turned it into what we now call oh-so-hip SoHo. He is the enactor of what some call the “SoHo Effect.” Basically, a developer takes a deprived neighborhood brimming with poor (but enviably hip) artists, buys the land, and remodels some buildings into pricey boutiques and cafes. Economic promise flourishes and soon more people become attracted to the neighborhood.

There are some positive results from this, like cultural revival and improved safety. But if not managed properly—as was the case in SoHo—the economic prosperity of others (mainly the real estate developers) can end up driving out the people that gave the district its initial vibrancy and unique qualities. In the worst-case scenarios, lower-income families who aren’t involved in the art scene are also displaced due to both the rise of property costs and taxes and the disappearance of local businesses that provided employment to the community. Even more troubling is the fact that this process has a snowball effect; the artists who were driven out move on to the next lower-income neighborhood, the developers take note, and the SoHo effect occurs again. The SoHo effect has

become a nationwide phenomenon, and Miami is no exception.

LONGTERM DEVELOPMENT Wynwood isn’t Goldman’s first Floridian project; after revamping SoHo he moved on to South Beach in the ‘80s. He helped create the Ocean Drive Association, a group of business owners and residents of the area (today there is a similar Wynwood Art District Association). Once he organized the residents, he bought some of the run-down buildings on Collins Avenue, remodeled them, and offered free rent to high-end retailers. In came Armani Exchange, Banana Republic, Ralph Lauren and the like. Today, Collins Avenue is one of the (if not the) shopping walkways of South Florida. Unsurprisingly, the Miami Beach Chamber of Commerce named Goldman citizen of the year in 1993. Go figure.

In a 2006 article for The Real Deal, Adam Weinbaum, director of sales for Lombardi Properties, Wynwood’s second-largest devel-oper, prophesied the eventual rise of Wynwood and identified the SoHo effect’s hand in bringing Wynwood onto the development radar.

“We came into Wynwood because we thought it was the closest industrial

area to Miami Beach, the Design District and downtown Miami,” Weinbaum said.

“We found this burgeoning art scene that no one knew about. As a result of prices on Miami Beach, artists were moving into semi-dilapidated art spaces. And we recognized it.”

Starting in 2004, before the economy toppled over, Goldman set his sights on Wynwood, his next urban revamp project. He borrowed a slim $23 million and bought most of the warehouses in the district. No one cared much—Wynwood was still considered one of Miami’s less stellar pieces of real estate. The visionary Goldman did not lose determination however; he ensured that more artist and galleries moved in and, despite the later economic dip, remained optimistic that his investment would prove successful.

Meanwhile, developer/mogul David Lombardi created what would later be-

come the staple of Wynwood nightlife: Wynwood Art Walks. Originally called Roving Fridays in the Design District, once a month the Wynwood galleries open up their garage doors, provide some free drinks, and invite over their hip friends.

During its humble beginnings, few souls dared to gallery-hop Wynwood at night, where there was little police presence and few nightlife opportunities to keep visitors around once the galleries closed.

GENTLEFICATION Clearly more was needed to boost Wynwood’s rep. Goldman had the perfect formula for art district development success— what he referred to in a 2005 interview with Miami New Times as “gentlefication.”

This ‘gentle’ process flooded the area with new restaurants and street art. The restaurant question was a tricky one; Goldman needed some trendy bistros to bring the foot traffic to Wynwood, but who was going to drive out of downtown to get lunch in the slums? Regardless, Goldman opened his first Wynwood restaurant, Joey’s, in 2008, and followed in 2010 with Wynwood Kitchen & Bar (not surprisingly reminiscent of his SoHo Kitchen & Bar).

These restaurants are exactly what you would imagine—over-thought and overpriced—but they succeeded in bringing people to Wynwood and keeping them there.

In the back of one of Goldman’s restaurants, Wynwood Kitchen & Bar, stands

Goldman’s grandest creation, the famed Wynwood Walls. The Walls consist of an open patio with 12 murals featuring impressive work from street-art big-dogs like Shepard Fairey and Aiko. Here, Goldman was able to kill two birds with one stone: not only did he create a high-profile art attraction, but he hooked street art— the art world’s latest trend—into the Wynwood mix. Yet it can turn the stomach of any serious street art appreciator. The rest of the Wynwood area is well-known by locals for its rampant guerilla graffiti and street art.

Goldman managed to take out the insurgent impulse of illegal street art in the area and institutionalize the open urban space into a backdrop for the elite clientele of his high-class restaurant.

In Wynwood today, the demand for food and bar options is soaring. During the now absurdly popular Wynwood Art Walks, upscale food trucks have met this demand. What is normally an abandoned

lot turns into a food-court-on-wheels for gallery hoppers, with gourmet grilled cheese and taco burgers on made on demand. New bars and cafes are already on their way.

RAPID AND STRANGE In the end, all of Wynwood’s hype rests on the artist and galleries that initially attracted Goldman. One has to wonder, with all this exposure, is this art even any good? Or is Wynwood’s designation as a viable and vibrant art district only wishful thinking by developers? Depends on who you ask.

Before a contemporary art scene developed in Miami, art in the city was mostly Latin-dominated, typically associated with the now cliché work of Britto and, as Wynwood resident Daniela Baldacci puts it, was mainly comprised of “pastel colors and coconuts.” Even as Wynwood’s initial galleries began to infiltrate the empty warehouses in 2000, it would take Art Basel, Miami’s yearly art fair extravaganza, to get people to notice what Wynwood had to offer. Even though Art Basel was initially centered on Miami Beach when it debuted in December of 2002, it included four of the founding Wynwood galleries.

This small exposure was enough to fuel the Wynwood fire and attract new galleries to settle in.

Dario Posada, Colombian artist and co-owner of Area 23 Gallery in Wynwood, was one of the many who would flock to Wynwood only in December to catch in on the Art Basel madness.

It wasn’t until last year that Posada permanently settled in Wynwood, and the “rapid and strange” pace of change in the area has been, according to him, vertiginous. Still, he chose Wynwood because, like many of the newer galleries owners, he believes that Wynwood has viable potential as an art hub.

Fellow rookie gallery owner Marite Iglesias of Gallery I/D, expressed similar hopes to The Biscayne Times when asked why he came to Wynwood: “We chose Wynwood because we believe in the area’s future as an arts destination.”

The veteran gallery owners of the area paint a less rosy picture. In an interview with the Biscayne Times Wynwood old-timer Fred Snitzer admitted that his initial high hopes for Wynwood’s art potential have only dwindled with its expanded popularity: “There was an opening once, an opportunity to create a serious art scene here, but I think it has passed. Restaurants are good, that part is fine. But I’m disappointed that Wynwood wasn’t able to sustain a certain tier of gallery […] I imagined once another level [of galleries] setting up here.”

Still, there is some silver lining. All of the development has brought artistic opportunities that otherwise would be unavailable in South Florida. One example is the Miami Light Project, a performance art non-profit for which Goldman is sponsoring a new theater, exhibition space, and rehearsal room. Yet Wynwood’s success as an art center, based not on Goldman’s development additions but on the actual quality of the art produced, remains questionable. Posada reassures that no matter the growth, Wynwood will never viably compete with established art centers like New York or even South Beach.

FEBRUARY 10 2011 | THE COLLEGE HILL INDEPENDENT | www.THEINDY.org

“BUT WHAT ABOUT US?” Perhaps more disappointing than Wynwood’s seemingly dwindling art potential is the lack of interaction between the artist/gallerists and the local community.

Posada said that the closest thing he’s seen to interaction between the two groups has been several thefts of the galleries by robbers suspected to be from the area.

“They see us as distant and indirect. We see them as dangerous and delicate,” Posada said.

On their end, community members haven’t been afraid to organize and try to repel the displacement that they already feel coming. One grassroots organization created to combat Wynwood’s gentrification, Miami En Acción, formed in 2008 and gathered concerned community members to discuss the lack of affordable housing.

As group member Norma Margarin told Miami Nights, “We’re not opposed to pretty streets, to galleries, to malls, and to lots of condos. But what about us?”

Yet not all residents see Wynwood’s growth as disastrous. Wynwood local Baldacci admitted that she appreciates the expansion of an art scene in Miami to counteract the more stereotypical Brittoesque work she has encountered, even if expansion comes with a price.

“Even if the rent did shoot up and I had to move out, it wouldn’t necessarily be bad,” Baldacci said. “It makes sense that they want to renovate downtown.”

Artists themselves are also beginning to see the effects of Wynwood’s developer boom set in. In just a year, Posada witnessed increased market value of his gallery—and his art. And as Iceland native and current Wynwood tenant Magnus Sigurdarson confesses, most of these artists, like Goldman, aren’t strangers to the patterns of gentrification.

“Little by little this will become a lovely neighborhood,” Sigurdarson told The Biscayne Times. “Rents will go sky high and only the rich will survive. That’s the story of all these places.”

When asked what he will do to placate the already growing effects of his developments by Miami New Times, Goldman claimed he would try provide low-income housing and studio space in order to maintain the area’s “sense of color.” But when pressed to describe how this would actually come about, his son Joey Goldman stepped in to discuss their more recent— and apparently more important—plans to open a new café. And with the recent building of Midtown Mall, it seems more likely that Goldman’s next project will be a parking garage, not affordable housing.

Even with all of Goldman’s development schemes, for anyone walking down the sidewalk-less and mostly deserted streets of Wynwood, the question begs: why here? And what’s next? The area is still in progress, and the warehouse architecture is windowless and uninspiring. The lack of sidewalks makes its feasibility as a pedestrian window-shopping walkway questionable. Despite any new artistic prospects, Goldman’s “gentlefication” will most likely only bring on what has already been seen in SoHo and South Beach— namely, a displacement of the lifelong lower class residents of the area and of the artists who began the whole thing.

However ‘gentle’ Goldman might like to paint the artistic rise of Wynwood, for the residents and artists with the shorter end of the monetary stick, there isn’t anything gentle about it.

ANA ALVAREZ B’13 thinks some neighborhoods are SoHoverrated.

ARTS| 12

13 |ARTS

FEBRUARY 10 2011 | THE COLLEGE HILL INDEPENDENT | www.THEINDY.org

D.I.Y.

JUNGLE

rethinking scope in adventure filmaking

by Alex Spoto

C

onsider this: the Waorani, a people indigenous to the Ecuadorian Amazon, are some of the most isolated humans in the world. They reside in a nearunreachable part of the rain forest—the Tiputini River area in the Yasuní Biosphere Reserve.

They harbor an extreme sense of xenophobia, often repelling outside contact with violence (spears and poison blow darts).

The combination of these traits has allowed the development of an incredibly distinct culture, including a unique language—a “language isolate,” free of relation to other tongues.

In the 1990s, the discovery of oil in the Tiputini region inevitably attracted oil companies and other industries. The once impenetrable Waorani were forced into contact with modernity. Boat motors, guns, and other modern technologies were traded for use of the land. With increased contact came culture shock, and many Waorani have forgotten or lost touch with much of their native culture. However, a group of concerned Waorani youth has teamed up with several concerned, outside researchers to document and reclaim their disappearing culture. Their plan is to venture into the rain forest depths and contact Waorani elders, in order to learn the history of the Waorani language and develop a Spanish/ Waorani dictionary—espcecially for the region’s This is a case of extremes: a highly unique but threatened group of people caught up in rapid modernization, and an extremely biodiverse, far-flung, and rich natural environment. These two extremes are bound together by a gripping, human story—a decidedly ambitious narrative undertaking. However, that story is going to be told by the rather compact Prehensile Productions.

Prehensile is a local documentary filmmaking company based out of Somerville, MA and Providence, RI—a two-person affair co-founded

by Jennifer Berglund and Brown alum Keith Heyward ‘07.

dolly that can straddle branches in the rainforest canopy. And that’s where getting your mad-scientist “We first met in Ecuador in 2005,” Heyward and Berglund have tapped friend from Providence, RI to said Heyward. “I was at Brown a fellow Providence resident, Zach build an Amphibio-Hotairship but she was at Boston University. Weindel, to devise an “Amphibio- makes perfect sense. Prehensile Boston University has a tropical Hotairship: Hot Air Balloon for Productions will be able to capture ecology program… So I guess we’re Filming the Amazon.” Weindel unique, never-before-seen shots both scientists [both Heyward and built a houseboat (called “Landlord that begin on the ground, rise up Berglund are biologists], and we Independent”) from scratch with through the rain forest canopy, and traveled all around Ecuador. For his friend Dan Gladstone and conclude with a cinematic aerial part of it, we stayed a month in resides there full time with his vantage.

Tiputini.” pet raven, Gurgy. Prehensile’s It’s innovations like these that At the Tiputini Biodiversity Kickstarter page features a video will allow Prehensile’s film to be Station, the two studied with of Weindel, wide-eyed and raving more cinematic in style—with biologist Kelly Swing, who, says about the potential of untapped smooth movements and highly Berglund, is one of the Waorani vantage points that the Amphibio- composed shots—in contrast to documentary’s “main characters.” Hotairship will make accessible. what Heyward calls the typical It wasn’t until later that Heyward The razzle-dazzle of an “broadcast TV” aesthetic of and Berglund became interested experimental, amphibious hot-air documentary filmmaking that in film. After the study abroad balloon only adds appeal to a project features “a lot of movement in the program, Heyward began making that already has a compelling camera and zooming in.” short video projects for fun. This subject in the Waorani people. led to a reprise with Berglund But the Amphibio-Hotairship is PREDATORS: STREAMLINING on a film project about white- just one way in which Prehensile is PRODUCTION faced capuchin monkeys in the craftily improvising documentary On the Prehensile Productions website, Jennifer Berglund is listed Costa Rican dry forests of Lomas filmmaking.

Barbudal.

“A rig for a digital SLR camera as the co-producer, writer and “Costa Rica was after college, is essentially a piece of aluminum director; Keith Heyward is the coafter working in a lab setting,” said with some poles in it. And they producer, videographer, editor, Heyward. “I didn’t like that, so I aren’t even made that well,” said and artistic director. Both fit into Heyward. “You can buy all of a category of increasingly sought went and studied monkeys.”

The final product, a short that equipment or you can make after professionals.

“Both of us learned this new documentary film called “Family something that essentially works term from some recent job listings,” Trees,” features highly stylized the same but maybe doesn’t look as said Berglund: “‘predators’— footage culled from months pretty.”

In addition to jerry-rigged producer, director, editors.” of filming with small but highAdvances in video technology definition handheld cameras. mounts and rigs, Heyward is also with heightened This film helped anchor the working on a motorized camera combined budding production company—an impressive demonstration of ability from two people who had barely touched a camera, much less taken one into the jungle.

SCIENTIST FILMMAKERS/ FILMMAKER SCIENTISTS

IMPROVISED , INNOVATIVE VIDEOGRAPHY

ARTS| 14

FEBRUARY 10 2011 | THE COLLEGE HILL INDEPENDENT | www.THEINDY.org

VIDEOGRAPHY expectations of technical skill sets has produced this niche job market for “predators.” Large scale productions are currently trending towards smaller, streamlined crews with expanded skill sets.

“With most things I see, I have an understanding of the TV industry, of how many people are involved and how much money goes into it and how unnecessary that is,” said Heyward. “When you see the final result, I always look at it and say that’s not too much different from something I did for 1/100th of the price.”

Predator production companies might be the harbingers of bigstudio obsolescence—streamlined production means the elimination of redundant jobs. But at the same time, a small company like Prehensile is able to approach a project with an incredible amount of focus, intimacy, and creative control.

Smaller production companies can make use of newer, smaller, and cheaper highquality technology. The minimal personnel means that the cost of labor is cheap.

Prehensile Productions has frequently collaborated with Boston Science Communications, Inc., and that group’s president, Gino Del Guercio, a veteran PBS documentarian, will serve as the primary director for this project.

But Heyward said the gear will be minimal—2 or 3 cameras, a few tripods, and lots of manygigabyte SD cards. The crew will remain intimate: “In the past, crew members had specific jobs, but now, things are set up so that all of us can edit, all of us can shoot, produce, write.

FRESH EVERYTHINGS

The Yasuní Biosphere Reserve is famous for being one of the most biodiverse places in the world.

Whether you’re a huge-crewed Discovery Channel expedition or the scrappy, two-person Prehensile Productions upstart, still have to face the challenge of being a human in one of the most extreme places on the planet.

“Tropics” means a place that has no seasons—climate extremes are plausible over the course of a day. The Prehensile crew will be shooting during the Ecuadorian Amazon’s “dry season,” but really, the rain forest is always damp and rainy (about 16” of precipitation per month in the peak rainy season vs. 6” per month in the dry).

Berglund says the main challenge is keeping clothes and boots dry.

Unattended moisture leads to aggressive fungus like foot rot: “I think you just have to have fresh pairs of everything.”

Beyond that, the flora and fauna are some of the biggest, most poisonous, most venomous, and most vicious in the world.

And then if anything were to happen, helicopter evacuation is about the only option. Berglund’s description of the trip into Yasuní’s Tiputini River area is testament to its extreme remoteness: “To get there you have to go on a two-hour plane ride from the nearest major city to a little town called Coca.

Then you have to take a two-hour boat ride to this oil road that goes to the rain forest. You drive down this road for two hours to get to this bridge where you get on a boat, then you take that boat for another two hours.”

Prehensile’s river boat will have a generator to charge the electronics. Durable, batterypowered hard drives will serve as storage for the many hours of footage—all of which will be shot onto memory cards, which are more rugged than tapes or discs.

Still, the constant moisture and frequent rain means filming conditions will often be spotty and that the electronics will be under constant duress. Heyward and Berglund will both get a lot of practice cleaning and drying out cameras, lenses and hard-drives.

Berglund emphasizes the necessity of silica pellets to absorb moisture, as well as dry-bags: “containers you can just seal up and throw into the river and your stuff stays dry”

AN AMBITIOUS PROJECT

Cheap HD cameras, vimeo, and a general expansion of skill sets within film have enabled an explosion in high-quality, independent film. But in the world of nature documentaries, Prehensile Productions is one of the only boutique-sized studios.

For this project, Prehensile is partnered with Boston Science Communications but is also raising money online. This film on the Waorani and Tiputini River will test the fledgling company’s scope, yet, as Berglund says, “It’s a story that tells itself.”

With a fresh take on documentary aesthetics and such engrossing subject material, there is plenty of room for this production team to explore and experiment with cinematography.

If the film gets major distribution, it will be a success of DIY filmmaking. More importantly, it will provide an aestheticallyminded, educational feature on the disappearing Waorani culture and language, as well as diverse plant and animal life on the Tiputini: a fresh perspective made by the scientists and researchers on the ground.

“A lot of the time, the process is more interesting than the focus of the film,” said Berglund.

Undoubtedly, this team’s process— how a handful of people with handmade rigs, dollies, and an experimental, amphibious hot air balloon filmed some of the world’s most isolated people in one of the most extreme, remote environments—will end up becoming a story of its own.

“It means so much more when you see someone who makes something great and you realize that they didn’t do it just because they had a lot of money or a large crew but because they were innovative,” said Heyward.

ALEX SPOTO B’11 struggles with foot rot in Providence.

15 |SCIENCE

FEBRUARY 10 2011 | THE COLLEGE HILL INDEPENDENT | www.THEINDY.org

THE DIRT ON THE WHITE COAT

by Maggie Lange illustrations by Charis Loke

Why Doctors Wear a Lab Coat and Why Maybe They Shouldn’t The American Biology Teacher Journal conducts an experiment called the “Draw a Scientist Test,” in which elementary school students are asked to illustrate their image of a scientist. The test ostensibly reveals people’s most basic understanding of someone that represents the scientific or medical community. Overwhelmingly, the sketches show a scientist bedecked in a lab coat. Most are male; some have frizzy hair and hold fizzing beakers, in conjunction with the mad scientist stereotype.

There are other props—a stethoscope, a briefcase, a clipboard, a syringe—but it’s the white coat that identified the doctor.

Out of the mouths of babes, the white lab coat serves as the universal signifier of science and medicine.

BARE BELOW THE ELBOW Though this piece of material culture formulates part of the doctor’s distinctive and distinguishing identity, the white coat has come under recent criticism. Currently, the lab coat is a contentious article of clothing for doctors—ironically, for many of the same reasons it was adopted. Physicians initially espoused the coat because of its symbolic whiteness: a sign of germfree, aseptic, clean, and modern medicine.

Now, researchers like the American Medical Association’s Council on Science and Public Health strongly indicate that the coats contain a veritable pupu platter of germs--especially C. diff (Clostridium dif-

ficile), which causes infections that sicken about half a million people in a year in the US. According to The Wall Street Journal, this is six times more than estimated before 2009. In 2007, the British National Health System established a “bare below the elbow” rule--banning long fingernails, ties, jewelry, and lab coats. Both lab coats and scrubs have come under criticism for spreading germs, but it is the lab coat that has come under the most attack, because of its deceiving reputation of white cleanliness.

Despite the evidence of the coat’s incubator-like qualities, the majority of patients prefer their doctors to wear them.

A Postgraduate Medical Journal study in 2004 found that 56% of those surveyed want their doctors to don the coat. In the UK, the Royal Free Hospital found that white coats were twice as popular with patients than with doctors. In this study, patients said it helped to identify doctors, while doctors complained about the uncomfortable and oppressive fabric and the increased likeliness of infection.

LOOKING “FRESH, NEAT, CLEAN AND SCIENTIFIC” Patients willingness to keep doctors in their lab coats shows the power of its symbolism—though it’s a symbol that hasn’t been around very long. Until the late nineteenth century, doctors wore dark, gothic robes. The robes showed a

connection to solemnity, formality, and death—more apropos for nineteenth century physicians, as they were usually called as a last resort. Before antisepsis, doctors were more often considered to be of the “quack” variety than not, as medicine had little connection to scientific foundations.

At the end of the century, the emerging fields of chemistry and biology had fully dismantled doctors’ reputations, and the dark coats came to symbolize the quackery of non-scientific healing. Antisepsis and germ theory moved from the scientific communities in Europe to the medical realm, and doctor’s uniforms soon cottoned on. Physicians adopted the white coat of chemists, associating themselves with rationality, science, and reason, which gave them a sense of legitimacy. A white coat implied cleanliness: a doctor’s costume that looked germ-free must be germ-free. D. W. Cathell’s popular 1882 book The Physician Himself, encouraged doctors to “Show aesthetic cultivation… look fresh, neat, clean and scientific.” Following the increase in commercial laundries that could keep hospitals stocked with clean bleached whites, physicians made the official switch by the turn of the century.

VITAL STATS RECONSIDERED As cultural values transformed in the twentieth century, the connotation of the lab coat has changed. Rather than serving as an important signal of rigor and rationality, the coat became an embodiment of power and institution. Behind the lab coat, the doctor was separated. The coat indicated that this figure had privileged access to truth and knowledge, and therefore held a power over the patient. It is the costume of the white coat—not the title ‘doctor’ or the office with shining and clean equipment—that communicates this superiority.

In the 1960s and 1970s, theorists and artists took on the symbolic power of the white coat to criticize scientists’ relationship to authority and power. Michel Foucault reconsidered medicine as a metaphor, in his 1963 book, The Birth of the Clinic: an Archaeology of Medical Perception. He specifically focused on the power of the “medical regard” or the distancing gaze that a doctor holds over the patient. Two years after The Birth of the Clinic’s translation into English, a pioneer in feminist art, Martha Rosler, released her 1977 film Vital Statistics of a Citizen, Simply Obtained. In this film, a woman played by Rosler stands in front of a man wearing a lab coat, next to three female assistants. The white-coated male examiner inspects and measures Rosler in every possible way, rating her “Average,” “Above Average,” or “Below Average.”

Rolser begins plainly clothed, is stripped naked, and ends wearing a wedding dress,

as the man and three female assistants remain in their static white lab coats. Their costume is immutable and commanding.

For Rosler, the lab coat provides a quick and visual symbol of power, science, legitimacy, and standardization. The piece makes a commentary that simply donning this uniform of the white lab coat gives these figures authority and control. With the lab coat, the man is backed by the whole institution of science. The white coat shows the power division between doctor and patient, man and woman; the white-coated man holds control, while the increasingly nude female is in position of vulnerability, to be judged, measured, and changed by the figure of science.

Around the time that the coat was questioned as a cultural symbol in feminist critiques, doctors in the medical community began to question the white coat as well, making arguments that the coat caused nervousness in patients. In the 1980s, a study confirmed their suspicions: “White Coat Hypertension” describes the increase in blood pressure experienced by 10% of patients when they are tested by a doctor. This increase reveals heightened stress in relation to the hospital setting generally, but the name of the syndrome reveals the importance of the symbolic quality of the uniform.

RECLAIMING MEANING Despite criticism about the coat’s germy qualities and the anxiety it could cause, many doctors instead set about reclaiming their uniform on their own terms. The White Coat Ceremony was originated by physicians at University of Chicago’s Pritzker School in 1989 to mark the transition from preclinical to clinical training for medical students. Now, the New York Times reports, 94% of medical and osteopathy schools conduct them. The blessing of the coats invokes the original symbols of the white coat—purity of purpose and professionalism—but it also adds the notions of compassion and respect for the patients, a stress on empathy in reaction to criticisms of the distanced figure in power.

Still, as the costume initiates medical students into the world of medicine before they’ve actually undergone training, these ceremonies stress the image of power, trust, and respect that the coats convey, while not emphasizing responsibilities and obligations of the wearers.

They also perceptibly communicate to the layperson that this coat is a vital symbol of practiced knowledge. As the white lab coat is a symbol of their profession, doctors have a vested interest in keeping the symbol of the coat pristine, despite proof that the fabric is filthy.

MAGGIE LANGE B’11 is an increasingly complicated symbol.

FEBRUARY 10 2011 | THE COLLEGE HILL INDEPENDENT | www.THEINDY.org

SPORTS | 16

SPREADING THE CHEESE Green Bay is Here to Stay

by David Adler

W

ith Christina Aguilera holding the final note of the National Anthem for over 10 seconds, it was easy to forget who exactly was competing in this year’s Super Bowl. However, Green Bay’s appearance on the big stage is pretty shocking when you look at the numbers: Price of 30-second advertising spot: $3,000,000 Number of viewers in Super Bowl XLV: 106,500,000 Population of Green Bay: 102,313 In the most lucrative national event of the year, the team that has thrust itself into the spotlight belongs to a city whose biggest claim to fame (after its football team) is the free Wi-Fi available in its downtown Broadway district. Green Bay is remarkable for its microscopic economy not because it stands alone as the only NFL team of its kind—cities like Baltimore and Detroit are paradigms of shrinking urban industry and commerce—but because Green Bay has never in its history been the bustling metropolis that either of those others were in the past. Green Bay, Wisconsin has the 286th biggest population of any American city, in a state with the 21st biggest economy. And in a league with a wallet practically as big as the city of Green Bay, one has to wonder how the Packers have survived.

The success of Green Bay’s storied franchise certainly has something to do with the Cheeseheads of America, the rabid fan base that encompasses much of the Midwest. Lambeau Field, the Packers stadium, has sold out every game since 1960. What’s more, with 78,000 names on the waiting list for season tickets in Green Bay, it would take longer than the span of one lifetime to reach the top. Most season ticket-holding elders make sure to state clearly in their wills that their seats be passed on safely to a privileged successor. Green Bay is so dedicated to its team that the city’s seal features not only the green and yellow logo of the team, but has “Titletown, USA” written across the bottom, a reference to the old nickname for Green Bay and its many NFL championships. The unbridled enthusiasm that these fans maintain is truly a testament to the greatness of the franchise, but in the NFL, where teams are bought, sold, and traded by ruthless, unflinching businessmen, the fans only count for so much.

The real reason the Green Bay Packers have remained in Wisconsin is because the NFL legally can’t rip the team away from it, not for lack of effort. Fans in Green Bay, unlike those of any other team in the league, enjoy not only territorial claim over their Packers, but economic

claim as well: stock in the Green Bay Packers is distributed among a community of over 110,000 fans, a system of public ownership that ensures continued residence of the Packers in their Green Bay home. This unique formulation provides an economic haven from the profit-seeking executives of a league that has long sought to put its biggest teams on the biggest stage in the biggest cities. The non-profit ownership of the Packers has provided fans and players alike with a sense of commitment that in turn drives Green Bay’s success as a franchise.

The history of the non-profit Packers began in 1923, when the 4-year-old team faced economic hardship that brought them to the brink of bankruptcy. Earl “Curly” Lambeau, the team’s founder, struggling to support the finances of his team, decided as a last resort to open its shares to the public. The Green Bay community, seeking to save their beloved franchise, saddled up: each member contributed a few dollars to keep the Packers alive. In the following years, backed by the support of their fans, the Packers became a force in the American Professional Football Association, the league that would ultimately become the NFL. The Packers won NFL titles in 1929, 1930, and 1931, while setting a record with 30 consecutive home wins that still stands today.

However, community ownership does not mean that these fans are getting rich off of their athletes, nor does it mean the fans are the ones making the decisions on behalf of the Packers. Stockholders, both then and now, are not entitled to special privileges as fans: they do not collect dividends or pick up free tickets, nor are they even provided complimentary parking at games.

Nonetheless, community ownership has allowed the voice of the fans to permeate the entire Packers’ organization.

Stockholders have the opportunity to

elect their 45-person Board of Directors, which oversees the majority of the football operations. And the president—who sits in for the team at ownership meetings—is the only member of the Board of Directors that is actually paid for his services.

This democratization of sports management cannot be found anywhere else in major league sports. When Green Bay opened up stock sales to help pay for the new Lambeau Field, the franchise raised over $24 million, spreading stockownership to a grand total of 112,015 fans. “In a world where money is increasingly consolidated in the hands of a few, the Green Bay community has managed to spread the wealth and cling tightly to its team even as the city of Green Bay, WI continues to drift further into the periphery of American commerce.”

would bring a renewed attention to the league that would lead to more lucrative contracts with television stations, the NFL’s biggest source of income. With recent threats mounting for a lockout next season—where players seeking larger salaries face a stalemate in negotiations with owners that may prevent the season from going forward—community ownership has never been more relevant to the NFL than it is right now.

But beyond sports, the case of Green Bay serves as a microcosm for the larger conflict in this nation between community ownership and privatization. As Republicans rail against Obamacare for “spreading the health,” as Glenn Beck so affectionately puts it, many Americans find themselves uncomfortable with the idea of enforced distribution of health care to the masses. However, give any sports fan the choice between private ownership and the chance to own a piece of his team and he wouldn’t hesitate to accept the public option. Health care and football are undoubtedly different, but community ownership in Green Bay, in giving the underdeveloped American city a chance to survive in a league of commercial giants, makes a compelling case against the private sector. And in continuing to take a stand against the commercialization of sports, Green Bay has demonstrated that a team can unite a community and provide a stable foundation for local unity and pride in an economy where jobs, education, and everything else seem to be in free fall.

At the close of Super Bowl XLV, hoisting the trophy over his head to the chant of “Go, Pack, Go,” MVP Quarterback Aaron Rodgers said it best: “The [Vince] Lombardi Trophy is coming back to Titletown,” he smiled, back to “the best fans in the league.” Looks like Green Bay is here to stay.

At times, the stormy waves of this sea have splashed up against Green Bay: in 1960, NFL commissioner Pete Rozelle tried to put an end to community ownership once and for all, declaring in Article V, Section 4 of the NFL’s constitution that “organizations not for profit” may not have ownership of an NFL team. Green Bay, however, made its case for maintaining community ownership, pointing to its 40-year history. The NFL finally agreed to allow the Packers to continue their operations. When their style of ownership again proved unsatisfying for the commercial interests of the NFL, the league decided to write over its ownership rules to require further consolidation of stock: only 32 people can hold stock of an NFL team, and among them, one owner must keep at least 30% of the stock to himself. Again, Green Bay rallied successfully for its grandfather clause, much to the dismay of the league. For the NFL, keeping the team in Green Bay means losing out on media markets that could rake in millions of dollars; a team in Los Angeles, for example, DAVID ADLER B’14 only watches for with the hype of celebrity and glamour, the commercials.

17 |LITERARY

FEBRUARY 10 2011 | THE COLLEGE HILL INDEPENDENT | www.THEINDY.org

THE SIAMESE CAT

by Maria Anderson

M

y mother found a Siamese cat with crossed eyes and brought her home. She is beautiful in her oddness. Looks like she is staring at a close, fixed point in space. Or like she is thinking profoundly about herself, some inner search, and that focus draws her eyes in and down. There is an ugliness about the eyes that my face houses. A photo of me, three or four years old, fat in a striped bathing suit. My belly is so portly that it drags the front down, the top yellow stripe baring my prepubescent chest, the little nipples, organs underneath. Relatives, a family friend in the background.

Everyone knew that those bared nipples would someday be used for acts of sex.

My dad has a unibrow. His house is like one in which the parents have gone. If I leave a cup on the floor next to the couch, it will be there months later. There is something reassuring in this control. A permanence. The back door is locked, but not the front. People sneak in to party here, a lost childhood home, skis at the end of the kitchen hall, drawers of wine corks, a basement of teenage relics. Road signs, bright cones, wooden lawn ornaments nailed to the ceiling, the poster of Frank Zappa sitting on the toilet that everyone complains about but I love because my dad gave it to me. You can make out the side of his ass, but not the balls or dick or anything. A poster with a pregnant girl, which we put up because a friend named Chantry Koegel knocked a girl up his first time having sex. She

was a testament to his extreme fertility.

We do not permit them to enter through the back door. When I show up at house parties of old Montana friends of friends, small town strangers who know about me and I about them, I feel like I have forgotten the ticket. I was only in an asylum one time, and the ward doors all had codes entered in by nurses. The rooms, too. Visiting a friend’s terrifying aunt. She was loaded, not vaguely rich like my friend. I bet she never had to put on dirty socks. The way she spoke, it was like a kaleidoscope.

Her tongue was smaller than most. She was beautiful and in pieces so far from perception... she was blinking out into a distant landscape, orbiting her own tidy body through the words she spoke to describe what she saw there. Here. Her words were vaguely expensive, separate. She was so alone. But she could buy anything, a power outside of her body. And my friend and I were there together, visiting her, departing together to smoke joints in the parking lot until we could barely stand.

High, I saw planets. Out there in the dark. I felt competitive with her words.

Given too dear from age, a weight, decades of meaning beneath them, their shuddering, spectral orbits. She stared in front of her like the Siamese cat, noble, with hidden access. I guess it’s that she was a queen, and I never will be. It is sad.

Smoking on the sofa one morning, I noticed a small brown mouse on the floor in our kitchen. I told my roommate a few days later, when I remembered, and he said I know. We found it dead in the middle of the room, outside of his closet, and I was sad because it was like it died because we hated it.