contents
the playlist is on page 3 Creative writing is on page 5 No Frills is on page 13 Now and Before by Lily robinson is on page 25 Digging for GOld by Clara Guthrie is on page 27 Fashion and Gender Neutrality by Foster Garrett is on page 29 The Parasite Industry by Andre Hirschler is on page 31 student art is on page 33 The “I� in isolation is on page 39
staff
editors in chief: Kate Snyder and Kia Wassenaar Features editors: Andre Hirschler and Loree seitz photographer: Anna Warner Designers: Emily bekker, Christina Hara, annabel Gleason and isabella whitfield Financial officer: Lydia kim Chief Curator: Eva Pfefferkorn
a letter from the editors Through four years of involvement with V Mag, we’ve seen the magazine morph and grow in surprising ways, continuing, we hope, to become a representational microcosm of the vast pool of talent and creativity that the University holds. This issue is no exception. In the following pages, our writers provide thoughtful considerations of art, fashion, gender, and place, examining issues through both distinctly personal lenses and in their broader cultural context. From a deft analysis of historical artistic portrayals of women, to a study of the fashion industry’s contemporary definition of “androgyny,” this issue’s editorials are both referential and forward-looking, ensuring a dynamic and thought-provoking collection of unique insight. The same excellence runs through every section of this issue, a standard we’ve been excited to uphold. Thus, in many ways, this semester of V Mag was business as usual — until our run came to an unceremonious halt in mid-March. As the world shut down, and our school followed suit, we had to wholly reconsider our operations. Many of the unique aspects of V Magazine, including our printed edition, were suddenly placed on hold. Despite this uncertainty, the function of V Magazine as a space where a community of writers, artists, designers, and creatives come together seemed more important than ever. So we decided to push on. Through a series of long phone calls and email threads with our teams, we were able to finish the magazine with the same sense of pride, quality, and energy that we’ve felt at the end of the past seven semesters. Publication would have been impossible without this dedicated network of talented artists and creators, all of whom sprung into action to maintain the magazine’s quality and to help us to react to our new reality. Our second photoshoot, the “I” in Isolation, is a perfect representation of that effort, showcasing a trio of artists and their distinct personal experiences of the pandemic. As Co-Editors in Chief, we have truly worked to imbue the magazine with the best parts of ourselves, and we feel proud to have worked with a team of people who were willing to give their all to ensure an exceptional final product, even through extraordinary, uncomfortable circumstances. We hope this issue serves as a testament to the talent and drive that lives within the University community, even as many of us have been flung far from grounds. We are incredibly proud to have served as the Co-Editors in Chief of V Magazine this year, and we’re elated to finally share our spring issue.
stay cool, V Mag. Kia and Kate
The Playlist Curation and Commentary by Emily Bekker Contributions from Audrey Himes, and Heidi & Paul Decoursey-Clark
Recognizable for its flowing pianos and thundering orchestras, classical music has a long standing history. When thinking through the history of classical music, as well as the sound of classical music itself, the one thing I couldn’t help thinking about was the breadth of emotion and energy it encapsulates. For this season’s playlist I prioritized variety and depth. The setlist starts with a flowing and celebratory piece by Handel. Full of horns and strings, the song evokes an image of levity and light. From this track, I wanted to maintain the establish energy while expanding our notions of classical past pure instrumentality. Not only does “La fille de regiment” pull the listener further into a world of sound, but Donizetti’s resounding voice relays an emotion so expressive that no translation is needed. The same holds true for Saint-
Saens’ dynamic and suspenseful piece “Introduction and Rondo Capriccioso.” With shaking violins and climbing notes throughout, Saint-Saens creates an atmosphere of tumult. To represent the modern masters of the genre, I included the talented Yo-Yo Ma playing another Saint-Saens, dripping with the sounds of beauty, love, and loss. Music is a universal language, and in no genre is it more apparent than in classical. Its ability to communicate a deep intensity of emotion through time and space is one reason why, unlike other more niche historical genres, it is beloved even today. From weddings and wakes to rom-coms and car commercials, the songs that were dreamed up hundreds of years ago have outlasted their creators and now inspire modern composers and musicians to continue their craft
Listen to the Full playlist at v mag’s official spotify
V MAG AT UVA 3 3
Classical Water Music Suite No. 1 in F HWV 348: 4. (Menuet) George Frideric Handel, Trevor Pinnock
La fille fu regiment/ Act 1: “Ah! mes amis, quel jour de fete!” Gaetano Donizetti, Luciano Pavarotti
Introduction and Rondo capriccioso in A Minor, Op. 28 Camille Saint-Saens, Dong-Suk Kang, Antoni Wit
The Swan
Camille Saint-Saens, Yo-Yo Ma, Gaby Casadesus
Peter and the Wolf, Op. 67: Peter does not listen Sergei Prokofiev, Ondrej Lenard
String Quartet No. 12 in F Major, Op. 96 ‘The American’ Antonin Dvorak, Skampa Quartet
Piano Concerto No. 21 in C Major, K.467: 1. Allegro maestoso Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart, Hai-kyung Suh
Le nozze di Figaro, K.492/ Act 3: “Sull’aria...”
Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart, Edith Mathis, Gundula Janowitz, Karl Bohm
Dawn
Dario Marianelli, Jean-Yves Thibaudet
The Four Seasons - Violin Concerto in F Minor, Op. 8 No. 4 Antonio Vivaldi, Joshua Bell
Gianni Schicchi: “O mio babbino caro” Giacomo Puccini, Renee Fleming
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Everyone tells me: move forward, But they know I am held back By imaginary ties To those who would see me fall For them to run from their own lives. They say: move forward, be your own. But they can plainly see The vice that I am trapped in. Move forward. Move forward. And they keep walking Until I am out of sight.
How do you play with a heart Without offering your own To balance the scales? Is it possible to have many hearts And to keep one just for yourself? But then no one will know which is real, Maybe not even yourself.
By Emma Stephens
By Sophie Williams
I
reluctantly swallow the acrid taste. Crouched at the foot of the bed, vulnerable and powerless, I’m unsure of when or how reemerge.
He finally shows signs of life after what felt like an eternity. I hesitantly go up for air to find his smug ecstasy wearing off his face, “How long did you plan to stay down there?” I can’t look him in the eyes. With my head down, I notice a dark stain on my tank top. How many bad decisions can I make in one night? Why did I cave again last night? I’ve lost track of the number of people who’ve told me what I already know—I’ve got to leave. I’m clinging to a sinking boat. For what? Pulling the covers off, I get up from the bed and began to walk towards the kitchen. Bastard. Did I really fall in love with this monster? Turning the corner into the kitchen, I’m set on making myself a cup of coffee until I trip over a broken bottle landing in the breadcrumb trail of tar. Despite my lack of caffeine I snap awake, bombarded by last night’s mess that still covers the apartment. When did everyone leave? We must have passed out before then. I turn the coffee machine on and pull out a mug from the cupboard, setting it on the counter. Going to draw the curtains, I am stunned by the brilliance of the late morning sun.
‌.. Closing in on three. We were dancing to our rhythm of the city: kites floating past indecipherable neon writing. How could we ever fall down? Stumbling up to Apartment 3C, embarking on a endless ride. We completely lost all control; Cuervo, our captain, was steering us towards the rocks. Our bodies, the music, the surroundings, were tangled into one cataclysmic organism. Then he appeared. What he had been up to, I didn’t care. I was oblivious, eschewing reason and rationality. The scene enchanted me. Impulsive desire snuck up on me, disguised as attraction, pulling me under. He folded me, a cloth, into his powerful figure. Swaying in the cramped loft, our inebriated thoughts suppressed our painful past. Eventually we detangled from each other and then he began to pull me through the crowd. I blindly followed his lead, in a trance. Tearing each other apart: allowing myself to be torn apart, once more.
By Allison Kinney
The House on the Corner of Lee and North Lexington
In the season of ugly definitions I sleep in the spare room, bare except for the air mattress, which arches and unfurls, a caterpillar crystalizing into its skin. My shirts don’t fit. This is the year I begin calculating my parent’s lifespans fidgeting with decades like quarters in my pocket. A door in my bedroom leads off-limits to the attic. The windows rattle in sympathy with the Lee Highway, and I am scared of self-driving cars and abandoned dogs, thunderstorms, the attic stairs, and the song with its promise there’s bound to be a ghost at the back of your closet no matter where you live. I listen for voices in the air vents. The House on Antilles Street I listen for voices in the air vents, in the touristy stained conch: DOMUS ET BELLIS tense as lizards on the screen, low storm clouds that gallop west from the Atlantic. In a dusty flutter, fourteen signatures alight, hearts and smiles and I am green as the slick whipping palmetto fronds, as offramp cattails, as a panther’s eyes. I am catching new facets of letters forbidding glimmers, sudden flights of crows flashing reflections in tinted windows. They resonate in the back of my head at night, tolling. I hope no one can hear, or commandeer the local airwaves. I hear too much, but don’t understand what ship these bells are calling into harbor. The House on Fairbank Street What a ship these bells are calling into harbor, orange rinds and gas receipts in the bilge, salt water flaking off the floorboards. Up the coast, the concrete shipping lanes, with all we can carry in tow. I begin to recognize the highway signs, old friends, so much uglier than I remember in their new definitions. Taller, grown like a sprout in the dark, I sink my feet into the grit of the familiar shore, and the rippling warp of unfamiliar floorboards. Home fills the shape Of any vessel, and so does hope. We live like swallows in the clay bank of the creek and float from branch to branch, lighter than the air like hawks, on the river’s rising exhalations.
By Myka Greene
“We live just far enough to not be ripped apart by housing mortgage loans,'' Heaven said to me once before. I was eight and had no idea what she was talking about. We were on opposite ends of a rusty seesaw that lived behind our apartment complex. It was during the liminality of summer and autumn, when you’re unsure why you want to die a little bit more each time the sun goes down.
Heaven stared down at me from the other side of the seesaw. She said nothing for several moments as if she was meditating. Her face was held tightly as if by an invisible mold, while below her chest remained animate; she resembled a body beginning to turn to stone from the head down, but the process was unfulfilled and she was forced to carry a rock on her shoulders. She then broke the mold with a smile and-
“I’m sure mom would've had to put one of us up as collateral if she ever chose to live in the City. I bet she would pick to auction off me instead of you if the situation was that dire. I think mom hates me,” she continued.
“Hey, you know what would be fun? Tuck your legs under the bar like this.” She modeled this by placing her thin legs under the thick bar that held her. “This’ll make you jump higher, it’ll feel like you’re flying.”
“Just because mom doesn’t love you as much So like any younger sibling under the as me, does not mean she doesn’t love you at influence, I obliged. It was fun, at first. It prompted the exhilaration of feeling all, I don’t think.”
weightlessness, unbounded to gravity. The summoning of an illusion without thinking of the necessary abandonment; I could have died on those rocks of Scylla. I was so hypnotized by such ignorance, that I hadn’t noticed Heaven repositioning herself as to jump off. She had timed it so that as soon as my side was ascending on the seesaw, she would evacuate, an emergency landing of sorts. She pushed herself off the seat, and the weight imbalance made the heavy metal plank fall onto my legs which were still positioned underneath the crane. I heard a crunch in both my ankles when I got back to the earth, a sound that I still hear everytime I turn on my gas stove top as it cranks itself
awake with a spectacle of blue fire. I had an equal number of fractures in both sides of my legs. “I think we’re about even for the time being,” Heaven whispered to me while mom was talking to the doctors. I let this slide. I let everything she did to me slide. Heaven was always envious of the fact that I looked more like our mother, and she looked like dad. This is probably why she never saw herself in the mirror, it’s hard to see yourself when you look like a disappearing act, having a face of empty space that a vanishing man once occupied.
no frills blurring the boundaries of the hyper-feminine Photographer: Anna Warner Models: Eleanor Carey, Kennedy Harmon, Emma Stephens Accessories Designer: Isabella Salcedo Creative Directors: Kate Snyder, Kia Wassenaar Shoot Assistant: Chloe Becker Makeup Artist: Sam Santana
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Now and Before: How We Arrived at Current Portrayals of Women in Art Bybylily robinson Emma Robinson Feminist Art encompasses recent works exploring and expanding femininity. In the wake of the Progressive Movement, women have redefined their role in society, and art echoes that shift. This new age of femininity in art celebrates its dynamic complexity by re-evaluating beauty standards, embracing the nuances of female sexuality, and introducing a tone of political activism. “Adult Female Sexual Organs,” is a collage of a black woman with overly large, pronounced lips, containing a clipping of a white woman in her head. This depiction delves into the latent racism of beauty standards and how they idealize whiteness while fetishizing features often belonging to women of color. The portrait is done over a diagram of female sexual organs under a semi-opaque layer of duct tape, reminding viewers of the female sexual repression underlying male sexualization. The artist, Wangechi Mutu, a Kenyan-American woman, uses her work to coalesce her experience of gender and race. Mutu uses clippings of anatomical diagrams of female reproductive organs and models in magazines to create complex portraits of women trapped by both their idealized allure and the complexity of their body. In another piece entitled “Ectopic Pregnancy,” an image of a woman’s sexual organs is transformed into a face. Pale, glossy lips are placed over the uterus, juxtaposing the beauty and violence imposed onto modern femininity. These powerful images mesh women’s bodies and their beauty, contrasting inherent organs with dramatic, hyper-sexualized features. Mutu finds that the inherent power of women’s bodies is masked by societal pressures to seem appealing, and her art urges women to rediscover the strength and beauty that already exists within themselves. Sanne Sannes’ photographs delve into the complexity of female sexuality and find strength in exposure. One of Sannes’ untitled, erotic images shows a naked woman seductively looking into the camera, but superimposed over her breasts is another image of her face, downtrodden. This contrast shows the humanity of the model – her sexuality is inherently linked to her and the scope of her emotions. In his collection “Revival,” Sannes photographs a nude woman laying down, looking back and unabashedly laughing at the camera. Her happiness is the focal point of the image as the photo captures her sense of joy and power in her sexuality. These photographs embrace a complex vision of female sexuality that goes beyond the physical. The women in these photographs have depth beyond their sexuality, and it adds to their wholeness and beauty.
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Kruger’s pieces, such as your “Your body is a battleground”, carry more direct political messages about femininity. “Your body is a battleground” shows a woman’s bisected face with those words splashed down the center. Its subtitle urges women to “March on Washington” to “Support legal abortion, birth control and women’s rights.” This blatant call to action exemplifies women’s robust role in politics, as the resulting effects pertain to their bodies. Barbara Kruger’s blocky, political photos give prominence to women and emphasize their strong role in the modern political landscape. One of Kruger’s iconic pieces entitled “Not stupid enough” features a black and white image of a smiling Marilyn Monroe with the title words written over her face in blocky script. Further, the image is surrounded with the phrases “Not ironic enough,” “Not skinny enough,” “Not nothing enough,” and “Not good enough.” Kruger’s dramatic contrast of the vibrant Monroe and the harsh words that often underlie her criticisms emphasizes the negativity and sexism of the dialogue surrounding women in media. The irony of such a bleak juxtaposition calls its viewers to question the legitimacy of such rhetoric against women in the public sphere. The piece galvanizes women by empowering them to voice their opinions. Feminist Art pushes back against societal norms in a variety of fields, and it encompasses a ubiquity of styles, from portraits to interactive exhibits. The art, in challenging what is beautiful, expands it. It constructively embraces sexual freedom and encourages women’s role in the sociopolitical sphere. Mutu observes the strength inherent to women’s bodies, while Sannes finds authority in the raw vulnerability of sexuality, and Kruger recognizes women’s cumulative political sway. In reflecting the vibrant diversity of modern womanhood, modern feminist art urges women to embrace their wholeness and the power that stems from it.
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by: Clara Guthrie Since its genesis, California has stood apart from the rest. Its attention. These hippies made their own music and lived by history is tethered to the idea of it being, as Tupac himself their own laws with a hub in the Haight-Ashbury, a district said—the “wild, wild west”—dripping with trademark indi- of San Francisco. Neither hippies nor surfers could be conviduality. It is from this place of individuality that California’s fined by expectations, and they have since been deified for it. iconic culture emerged. For example, as the youthful tradition It seems that Americans crave the wild individualists—from of surfing coincided with The Beach Boys lamenting, “I wish the hippies to the modern Silicon Valley tech geniuses—that they all could be California girls,” the state, especially Southern California breeds. California, cemented its paradisiacal image. As the “California Myth” came to describe the state’s oceanside settings, peo- This history of individuality has led to artistic interpretations ple who inhabited this idyllic dreamworld were portrayed as that glorify what it means to be a Californian and that allow being equally appealing and effortless. This carefree image of others to buy a sliver of California for themselves. Think about the state and its accompanying soundtrack were popularized brands such as Brandy Melville that sell not just tee-shirts by the widespread tentacles of mass media. Consequently, the with “Bay Area” plastered across them, but also an entire aura. term “hippie” first gained popularity in Northern California Their marketing is rooted in being pseudo-Californian (they as the free-loving, psychedelic counterculture gained national are really an Italian-born company). Or, consider the music
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exploring the consumption of calufornia culure and movies that perpetuate California’s mystique. 45 years af- nian style: looking like you didn’t try at all by trying extremeter The Beach Boys paid tribute to California girls, Katy Per- ly hard. Such an intangible ideal is oddly appealing, and this ry did the same, in her own highly marketable way. And in endless striving for more—more fit, more wealthy, more of a 2016, La La Land created a nostalgic callback to the seduction free spirit—is now prevalent. Internalizing this Californian of Old Hollywood. While these consumerist appeals are in state of being grants outsiders a window into a culture that no way exploitative, they do seem to fall short of capturing has so long fascinated them. Buying into this romanticized the actual essence of California, an essence only understood sense of whimsical individuality can lead people to feel connected to a state they may or may not have ever set foot in.
from first-hand experience.
California has also exported its lifestyle, which is arguably Just like the wayward individuals who originally came out the modern manifestation of the individuality that surfers west looking to strike gold and reinvent themselves, the world and hippies once embodied. The state balances on a precipice continues to dig through California’s soil for their own gilded between a laid-back vibe and a culture of constantly striving fortune. for better. Its inhabitants are groomed to always want more and to find comfort in abundance. This creates the Califor-
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fashion & g e n d e r neutrality:
by: foster garrett 29
it still has a long way to go, sis Gender expectations have troubled me throughout my life. I was an else would brands care about de-gendering products that they incredibly tomboyish child, and my seeming inability to reach hy- market as “menswear” and “womenswear?” All you have to do is per-feminine societal standards has caused me much gut-churning look at New York Fashion Week’s “unisex/non-binary” category turmoil. Now-a-days I rock a super sick pixie cut and am comfort-
that was added in February 2018 and the refreshing cross-gen-
able with the fact that I have very little idea of what the hell I’m sup- der playfulness present in designs by those such as Telfar Cleposed to do with eyeshadow. But there are days when I see editorial mens, Gucci’s Alessandro Michele, and Vivienne Westwood. models effortlessly hit sexy on one page and gently beautiful on the next, and my stomach knots up again. However, in recent years, However, many often become afraid of including bright colors and some key players in the fashion industry such as Calvin Klein’s Raf
garments traditionally worn by women in their gender neutral
Simons and Louis Vuitton’s Nicolas Ghesquière have begun to take
designs for fear that they may feminize the work, and instead use
a turn toward non-conforming gender expression. Many brands other techniques to achieve a level of gender neutrality. Fast-fashhave even stated that the future of fashion is genderless, but it is ion giant Zara’s collection “Ungendered” was plain and androgyimportant to note that their exemplified “gender neutral” clothing
nous, not genderless—a distinction brands must strive to make.
is often characterized by bagginess, abstraction, and the absence of
Additionally, this collection, like many gender neutral lines, was
stereotypical feminine aesthetics. In other words, these lines tend to “one style fits all.” While the “one style fits all” philosophy does, be boringly masculine or exceptionally weird, and I am tired of it.
in function, make itself wearable for various people by being baggy enough that differences in proportions shouldn’t matter, it also
This dissatisfaction might seem out of place considering the polit- reveals a lack of thought and purposefulness while designing for ical realm’s conflict over gender expression and identity, but if the many body types. In a similar vein, abstracted designs by people fashion industry is going to flex, they may as well do it right. This like Rick Owens and Yohji Yamamoto are often dubbed gendermeans genuinely listening to LGBTQ+ people like activists Chella
less as a result of being so unusual or avant-garde that they simply
Man and Alok Menon, who advocate for breaking out of the gen-
do not fit a stereotype. However, there is no real intent to make
der binary all the while posting images of themselves in clothing these designs genderless but rather to create a more artistic form ranging from blazers to slip dresses to garishly pink turtlenecks.
of fashion, and calling these abstract collections gender neutral
Perhaps a near-complete cultural change is needed in order to fully
perpetuates the thought that gender non-comformity is strange or
convince the world that women do not have a monopoly on skirts, incomprehensible. Brands must be more intentional in their work but until that happens, designers would do well to pursue their next and learn that they do not need to eliminate feminine aesthetics best option: actually listening to what people want. Brands began in order to de-gender clothing—they need only market it as such. making gender neutral clothing lines due to the influence of queer people, and while it is incredibly important for GNC designers like The most comprehensive, effective way for brands to improve is by the fantastic up-and-coming Harris Reed to be recognized in this being more free with their fashion choices and marketing stratemovement toward fluidity, it is valuable for all designers to strive
gies. Many of these brands have incredible influence and resourc-
to stay more in touch with the needs and wants of the community. es; there is absolutely no reason for them to balk at including female gender stereotypes into all-gender fashion, especially when This isn’t to say that big brands do everything wrong. As sensitiv-
they already include male ones. It is definitely more socially ac-
ity has grown towards transgender and gender non-conforming ceptable for a woman to wear pants than for a man to wear heels, people, so has the fashion industry’s interest in providing gen- but isn’t the point to propel the idea that clothing has no gender? derless clothing and space for genderqueer individuals. And it is
All it takes is for one high-powered designer to stand up and say
simply ignorant to think that the movement toward gender neu-
“enough is enough—heels are for anyone who dares to wear them.”
trality is not a direct result of the LGBTQ+ community—why
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The parasite industry í‘łë¨ďš„í?źî‘?í?ťďš„ë°Ťěť˜íŽ¤ By Andre Hirschler This year Parasite swept the film world, culminating in critical and commercial success for the South Korean picture. It touches on psychological thrillers and holds up as a satire all while blending comedy with genuine horror, sincerity with deceit. At its best, the film is a cutting critique of class structures and social division. At its worst, an emotionally laden story that beautifully plays out with the patience of a lit fuse. Its release culminated in an unprecedented sweep of awards, from the Cannes Palme D’Or to its Academy victories of Best International Feature Film, Best Picture, Best Director and Best Original Screenplay.
cesses. But there it was, everywhere, South Korean.
This is where it gets complicated. The film is South Korean, in writing, setting and production, but its story seems undeniably international. No nation is free from elitism. No individual beyond the shame of being treated as inferior. There’s arguably few who wouldn’t envy the lifestyle of Parks (the wealthy family) and pity the condition of the Kims (the impoverished family). The film works off this premise, then layers complications over it. Both families have redeeming qualities. Both do awful things. Both are accessible, as symbols, to a global audience Yet, that translation of praise into awards, al- (albeit the urban one). The very capacity of though earned, should give pause. It seems the film to exist outside of its South Korean odd that its Best Picture acclaim included an language and setting is why we are discussInternational Film title. Who decided that ing it now; it did appeal to a wider audience. the film could not exist on its own merits as a best picture? Instead, it is branded as a suc- Parasite was, on some essential level, not cess story for “foreign� films. The industry, South Korean but simply human, a fact reembodied by the Academy Awards, seems flected by its worldwide box office total of incapable of accepting successes outside of $254 million, only $71 million of which the American and, to some extent, British was generated in South Korea. The double industries. Any victories remain othered. treatment of the film is troubling not just in The film is both incredible and foreign, the consideration of its success, but also over implication being that its success in spite of its acclaimed Director, Bong Joon-ho. He its foreignness is what is incredible. This be- has produced not one, but two critically accomes more apparent with any quick glance claimed films in the english language, Snowat reviews of Parasite, almost all hailing the piercer and Okja, both dealing with global South Korean film and its enormous suc- narratives. Curiously enough, Snowpiercer 31
did not perform nearly as well in the US market and performed comparably to Parasite in South Korea despite its more appealing action billing. It too, was a critical darling. The gap between Parasite’s acclaim and Bong’s other films is thus startlingly without much reason. The treatment of Parasite as an unquestionably foreign film reveals itself more insidiously as some kind of purposeful...othering. On some level, the obvious but concerning answer might be because Parasite is actually unequivocally foreign. It is unique in its otherness to the regular offerings of predominantly western film industry, that uniqueness making it worth admiration. To admire Parasite for its content, reflective of our own tendencies, grants it a far more threatening power than entertainment. It makes it culturally relevant, as any Best Picture Award might. The Best “International� award allows it cultural relevance, but always as an outsider. It becomes a way of accessing, indeed encouraging engagement with a foreign culture, but only insofar as it remains foreign.
Perhaps this is why the industry and surrounding media are so desperate to affirm its otherness, because to accept it as anything universal makes the content of the film far more cutting. The social structures it so meticulously dismantles are everywhere, but by relegating them to the particular South Korean class dynamic, the viewer is allowed the distance to entertain the content and their relation to it, without needing to accept it. The truth is the Hollywood industry is more than happy to preach globalization, but largely on their terms. Parasite has proven that the flow of culture can go both ways, with startling originality and proven success.
풍잧ě‚?ďš„ 좣싛 혗햌햋 좣싛 í?ƒí€›ë§ť íƒ§ížťíŽŻďš„ 좣싛 캧얇빇힝솿 î?¨ěşź ďšłďšľ íƒ—ë§żí?‹ďš„ 몿밄 í•“í?‹ďš„ ëŤťíƒ§í•Żďš„ í–ƒěƒ&#x;덛 ěť˜ë§źî?¤ěƒƒěƒ&#x; 햋썳훡핓 íƒ—ěƒťí?‹ďš„ 캯덛 í–ƒë°Ťďš„ ě?‡ě¤łí?‹ďš„ î?¨ěşźďš„ ëźë°ƒî?¤ ěƒƒěƒ&#x; 풍잧 좣쉋ě‚?ďš„ 몿밄핓í?‹ďš„ ě&#x;&#x;í’Ťďš„ 짡먋î?—ďš„ í?ƒí˝‡ëş“ě?ˇďš„ 망힝덛 í–ƒěƒ&#x;덛 ěť˜ë§źî?¤ěƒƒěƒ&#x; 32
Me and My Monsters
Sophie Scott First year | English
My art is mostly about memory. I think that memories become blurred and dream-like over time. In my paintings, I try to record my memories before they’re forgotten, while adding a bit of surrealism to represent that dreamy distortion, so although I paint more realistic faces, things like clothing, hair, and perspective are painted as something “fake”, or rather, separated from what’s real. My subjects—versions of my family, friends, and myself—and my medium—paint, usually oil—carry the theme of tradition. 33
Somya
Wilson 2
Ant
AVA Reynolds
Fourth Year | Studio Art and Global Studies
Tet plam nest plit, inctiaepudae volupid ullandae et quoofmoditio Theperibus history of discriminatory urban planning tacticsethas shapedas patterns envitotat porum vel incillautem imenitate pa sin rectem nectemquam core poreiciis ronmental injustice; marginalized communities have higher risks of exposure to re volumqui dolore,and solora voloresciashealth estiatirisks. nissim quatiaimagery doluptainspired quiatibusae toxic environments the associated By using by dolutatesci sequian eaquas quost, zoning maps comnis and organic forms,denditatem and couplingium it with vibrantetuscipsunt colors communisequaecum comnias vendae lacersp itatasi unt et porero cating toxicity, I aim toperesti tell theumquam, disjointed to story of a place; zoning discrimination, conseceped mobeauty consequod corrumqui te comniscim sititodictem environmental turned maxim degradation, and thecus, communities exposed toxdolupis adis dis audiasit prae.want Endanto autasitassi comniatur? ic environments. I ultimately theseruntore pieces to exist in the tension between beauty of place and complexity behind that beauty.
Cybernetic Future
Dreams
Helen Lin
Fourth Year | Studio Art & Computer Science
Both of these animations were created from collaging together various images, videos, and gifs from the internet. “Dreams” is the first animation I ever created, and I quickly fell in love with the process of bringing to life my digital collages. I wanted to recreate a vivid dream I had, which dealt with the endless struggle of escaping from obstacles and surrendering to them. “Cybernetic future” explores the relationship between technology and the environment. I became interested in this relationship through my upbringing in rural Virginia, where it’s surrounded by beautiful mountains, and my background in Computer Science. The environments in my animations have a surreal and dreamlike essence, but they’re all based on things from real life.
THE ISO at least six feet
“I” IN L A TI O N A coming of age is an act of collaboration — so often, we mold and shape ourselves to conform to some imagined image of our public personae. But with our school year cut short in a compulsory exile into social isolation, is that image left altered? Who are we at home, when no one’s looking? Three artists, Caleb Briggs, Lizz Bangura, and Anna Warner, answered this question, documenting themselves as they exist without pretense, and with distance.
C al eb br iggs
L iz z Bang u ra
A nna Wa rne r