WEEKEND

WEEKEND // FRIDAY, JANUARY 16, 2015

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THE MELLOW CELLO

BEHIND THE LAUGHTER

CHINESE FOOD FILMMAKING

Elena Saavedra Buckley loses track of time while listening to Yo Yo Ma. But does time even exist?

Like WKND, Amy Poehler knows the secret to a good laugh. We’ve just momentarily forgotten it.

Who is General Tso? The story behind the five-star general. As in, Yelp! stars.

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YALE DAILY NEWS · FRIDAY, JANUARY 16, 2015 · yaledailynews.com

WEEKEND VIEWS

KRAUSE

// ANNELISA LEINBACH

MAKING TIME // BY ALLIE KRAUSE

KAHOE

This week has included a lot of last firsts: my last first day of school; my last first scramble of the semester to score a place in coveted seminars; my last first Woad’s.

These last firsts have found many of us oldies, more commonly known as the Class of 2015, jokingly nostalgic; we’re facetiously lachrymose over penny drinks that evoke memories, clouded by a Dubra-tinted haze, of all the questionable decisions we’ve made at Toad’s Place in the past 40 months. We’re bent double at the very thought of the silly things we used to care about as freshmen (and maybe secretly still care a little too much about now). We chuckle with the lofty wisdom of hindsight about that time that we thought we could be econ majors. “Ah, to be young again!,” we cry. But obviously we’re much smarter now.

Of course we cannot simply let ourselves fall into musing on our bright college years — there are practi-

cal matters of great urgency at hand.

We must ensure that our final final exams (if we are so unfortunate as to have any) do not clash with precious Myrtle time, and one cannot forget the extensive strategizing that must go into planning our invites for Last Chance Dance, not to mention our drinking schedule for the remainder of the semester. It is essential that we attend every senior event and promise to be Feb Club All-Stars because OMG guys what if we never see each other again?!?

Yet behind our frivolity is what can only be described as a typhoon of conflicting emotions. When I imagine what lies ahead, the seemingly endless possibilities and paths to take — most of which (Hallelujah!) do not involve a letter grade —I’m genuinely overwhelmed.

20 years from now I could be a high-ranking officer in the Army, or running a modern speakeasy tucked away in the heart of a major city, or

working on marine conservation in some gorgeous coastal town.

Or maybe I’ll be on Wall Street making the big bucks.

Or not.

I can see glimpses of Maybe Future Allie living a million different lives, each with its potential ups and downs and gray areas, and I spend hours wondering which is the one I’m supposed to be living — but, of course, life doesn’t work like that. Who knows where I’ll be a few months from now?

Forget years. I could be anywhere, and the thought of this utterly terrifies and excites me.

We, the senior class, stand on the very precipice of that Great Other: the world outside of Yale. This precipice requires that we actually plan for our futures, not just daydream while we should be paying attention in lecture – and holy crab cakes, is that scary.

What if I make the wrong choice?

I ask myself this question at least once a day. I know that the end of col-

lege does not mean the end of all that is good and fun. I also know that Yale was and is not a perfect place, and that change is often a good thing. But as we stare over the edge, challenged to take that inevitable plunge into the abyss, it’s difficult to prevent the complete uncertainty of impending real life from fazing you.

I do, rather shockingly, have a plan for post-graduation life. It has changed more than a few times in the last years, but at least for now it would seem I’ve figured out my not-so-distant future. My friends often remark on how impressed they are with my sense of direction, how clearly I’ve set a path for myself, and oh how they wish they had the same commitment to their own futures! I nod and give them a small, knowing smile, sometimes saying: “Oh, I’m just lucky.”

Little do they know that I’m navigating uncharted waters on a rickety dingy with naught but a shot glass for a compass.

Nevertheless, much like Captain Jack Sparrow, I hold onto the belief that I will end up where I am supposed to be, even if the path is more winding than expected and my destination (or destinations, as the case more likely will be) is not perhaps where I intended to go.

For now, I plan to enjoy the second semester of my senior year. I’m making time with friends to — as my former Dean and forever idol John Loge liked to say —“really figure stuff out,” to bring some closure to our late-night dorm-room conversations. I’m making time to finally do those things that I’d put off either for fear or inertia. And most importantly, I’m making time to get my weekly groove on at everyone’s favorite amphibian dance club.

So on that note, see you at Penny Drinks every Wednesday ‘til May 18th!

to Arabs, Muslims, and Middle Eastern-looking people for the last 200 years, but particularly since 9/11.

These images perpetuate stereotypes about an entire race, ethnic group, religion, and skin color. Using the core figure of Islam, these cartoons suggest that Islam is itself inherently violent.

I should clarify that I am not unequivocally opposed to using stereotypes for comedy. Most of my contributions to this newspaper have been satirical and many (hopefully) provocative. What is troubling about the Charlie Hebdo cartoons, however, is that the stereotypes they utilize to provoke laughter and controversy have a real impact on their subjects.

They are powerful images, and their message strikes a disturbing chord in the U.S. and in Europe, one that has been and is used by the powerful to make life worse for an entire class of people. From deportations to airport scrutiny to fingerprint registries, anti-Muslim sentiment and actions in the U.S. in the decade following 9/11 is well documented, and a similar sentiment is on the rise in France — witness the rise of France’s far-right,

anti-immigrant Front National party.

While many Yalies have the means to take classes on subaltern studies or colonialism and may see through these depictions of Islam, that is not the case for many in the West, whose prior beliefs may only be confirmed by such caricatures. Even worse is that, in publishing these sorts of cartoons and endorsing the stereotypes they depict, we give credence to one of the most effective recruitment tools used by ISIS and extremist networks around the world: the perception that Muslims are increasingly a marginalized out-group in the world.

That perception is not drawn out of thin air, but rather drawn from a long history of lampooning, economic exploitation, coups, occupations, and invasions. Without an Iraq War, without a Guantanamo, without an Abu Ghraib, without drones, without Sykes-Picot, without a French Algeria, the perceived gap that these cartoons exacerbate might not be so wide. But with those events, these cartoons are irresponsible, an abuse of privilege and a tool of marginalization, whether intended that way or not.

None of this is to say that satire or criticism of Islam or of religion itself is always inappropriate. Indeed, I think religion needs corrective satire as much as any institution, if not more. But I would not discredit the whole of Christianity on account of the Ku Klux Klan or those who bomb abortion clinics. I would not discredit the value of police on account of some racist policing. Rather, I would seek to do with all these institutions as the Qur’an instructs — to enjoin what is good and forbid what is evil — with the hopes of fostering in Islam that same good that, in the Christian Bible, fueled civil rights and, in police, keeps me and my loved ones safe.

While I mourn the loss at Charlie Hebdo and while I will always condemn violence that seeks to stifle free speech, for the above reasons, I hope that we witness fewer skewered caricatures and more efforts to understand Islam as most Muslims understand it. I believe we can do this while still mourning the victims of violence in France.

Contact ALLIE KRAUSE at alexandra.krause@yale.edu .

Suis-je Charlie? // BY CODY KAHOE I do not claim to write here anything that countless bloggers and columnists all over this country have not already expressed. Rather, my hope is to bring to Yale some of the discussion about the implications of saying “Je Suis Charlie” without fully knowing the background or context in which Charlie Hebdo operates.

First of all, it should go without saying that we all stand in solidarity and mourning when those armed with pens are murdered for their free expression. But I think we can maintain that stance while also looking more closely at the magazine at the center of this tragedy.

The way I have described my approach to the Charlie Hebdo cartoons, both original and reprinted from the Danish newspaper JyllandsPosten, is not novel. While I without question support the right to publish such materials, just as I would support legality of symbolic speech like flag burning although I disagree with it, I do question whether their publication was right, productive, or advisable. If I had the choice, I would not have published the cartoons that Charlie Hebdo printed, because of

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what they depicted and, even more importantly, the context in which they appeared.

What matters is not just that the cartoons contained the image of the Prophet Muhammad. What matters is how he was portrayed, and what those portrayals reinforce . In one Jyllands-Posten cartoon, he is shown with a wild beard and a giant sword, standing threateningly before women in burkas. In another, he restrains a troop of fuming jihadists brandishing swords and bombs. In another, his turban is a bomb with the fuse lit.

In one Hebdo cover, he stands wildeyed, big-nosed, and stupid-looking, proclaiming, “100 lashes if you don’t die with laughter.”

Again, what matters to me here is less respect for religious sensitivity to images themselves, and more the actual effect of the satire. First, the cartoons aim their satire not at violent fundamentalists, who sadly exist in any religion, but at the core representative of Islam, the essence of the religion — the Prophet. Second, the portrayal of Muhammad is violent, Orientalist, backward, threatening — all the tropes that have been assigned

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Fellini, I’m your biggest fan, I’ll follow you until you love me, papa, papa, paprazzi.

Contact CODY KAHOE at f.kahoe@yale.edu .

WKND RECOMMENDS: “The French Renaissance,” because Edwin Duval is Connecticut’s best kept secret.

YALE DAILY NEWS · FRIDAY, JANUARY 16, 2015 · yaledailynews.com

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WEEKEND COVER

IS IT WORTH IT? // BY EMMA GOLDBERG

nyone who’s been to the extracurricular bazaar has heard this refrain: “Do you sing?” “Do you act?” “Do you watercolor/beatbox/ bhangra?” (Cue tone-deaf freshman-year me signing onto 37 unnecessary panlists.)

If this scene is any indication, we have a lot of artists at Yale. Enough to fill five improv troupes and seven major theater venues every weekend. Enough to fill 15 world-class a cappella groups. Fifteen!

That’s a ton! Now, where do all these talented people end up after senior year?

Well, according to Yale’s Office of Career Strategy, 15 percent of the class of 2013 took jobs in financial services and 12 percent took jobs in consulting. Only four percent went into the fine or performing arts.

We watch our friends act in Dramat shows and sing for The SOBs and perform for Teeth and dance for Rhythmic Blue. And we watch suited-up graduates shuffle off to jobs at Goldman Sachs. I want to know where all that creative juice goes. Are all those poets and actors and comedians really hunched over in midtown cubicles? I don’t think they are.

But we don’t really talk about our campus’ aspiring artists — and whether they

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receive proper preparation at Yale.

How To Be a Working Actor When Alex Kramer ’13 graduated, he returned home for the summer and dusted off a copy of a book he’d received in high school: “How to Be a Working Actor.” “It was like reading a user’s manual on my life,” Kramer chuckled. “It was so helpful but it was also so straightforward — why couldn’t Yale give me this information? It’s maddening.”

Kramer had known since sixth grade that he wanted to be an actor. At Yale he’d made all the right moves: performed in shows with the Dramat, studied theater abroad in London, devised a senior project combining the 2012 presidential election with Shakespeare’s Richard III. But post-graduation, things were a bit more complicated.

“You hear things like ‘you’ve got to move to New York and start auditioning,’ but I had no idea what that actually meant,” he told me. At Yale, Kramer had access to training, mentorship, heaps of funding for theater pursuits and a thriving arts community. But he received little of the guidance he needed to actually make it in acting.

Had the University offered more resources and preparation for auditions, Kramer feels his path into the theater

world might have felt a bit simpler. The lack of practical counsel dissuaded some of his classmates from pursuing careers in acting, he explained.

“Some of the theater training at Yale is obstinately and decidedly anti-vocational, especially given the wealth of talent among composers and playwrights,” said Bonnie Antosh ’13, now a working actress in New York. “I think it’s a shame that the department doesn’t host a senior showcase for casting directors and literary agents.”

Joseph Roach, former chair of Yale’s Theater Studies program, is quick to defend the University’s lack of pre-professional focus. He notes that a good number of Yale students have gone on to become successful actors — many likely came to Yale for a liberal arts education, not any sort of career training. “From my perspective, no major in Yale College has, or ought to have, a self-limiting vocational focus,” Roach wrote in an email to me.

Susan Yassky ’16, a Theater Studies major, also felt that Yale strikes a delicate balance between theory and practice, an academic education and preprofessional training. “The department focuses more on cultivating our passions and less on training us in practical skills,” Yassky said, “But that’s what I want from my classes here.”

And it’s not every school where you would find Theater Studies majors like Yassky taking science credits along with screenwriting classes. For some students, that’s a huge perk. Yale certainly doesn’t offer the vocational preparation that conservatories do but our liberal arts approach has its advantages — like diverse academic offerings and funding in the form of Creative & Performing Arts Awards.

Nathaniel Dolquist ’15, a Theater Studies major, feels that the University’s distributional requirements make for more well-rounded artists, “People who appreciate many academic disciplines and can bring what they’ve learned back to their art.”

To Tim Creavin ’15, also a Theater Studies major, Yalies know that they won’t be receiving the same training as conservatory students. He said that those who want to further develop their craft after Yale can enroll in MFA programs.

What Yale does offer, Creavin argues, is a do-it-yourself mentality, and Matthew George ’11, a working playwright, agreed. “Yale provides opportunities to self-create and insofar as self-creation is how you make art, that prepared me,” George said. “But it didn’t offer me much in the way of practical experience.

Everyone you talk to sort of ends up say-

ARTIST PROFILES ALEX KRAMER Kramer works as a professional actor in New York.

After graduation, he had to learn the practical side of theater by himself.

LUCY FLEMING An aspiring actress and writer, Fleming has appeared in many theatrical productions at Yale. Still, she says she feels some ambivalence about moving to New York and staying in the Yale Bubble.

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MARIINSKY CHORUS

Woolsey Hall // 7:30 p.m.

Fresh from St. Petersburg, the renowned chorus comes to Yale. A song request: “Fools Russian (Where Angels Fear to Tread).”

ing, ‘Just find your own path!’”

And finding your own path can be difficult — especially when others have theirs clearly defined.

The Scapegoat Katherine Paulsen ’14 began her senior year the way many Yale kids do — with interviews and case preparation for consulting jobs. She assumed she’d take the same route as many of her friends, getting work as an associate and moving to a large city nearby. The trouble was, the job descriptions on Symplicity simply didn’t excite her. Toward the middle of her senior year, Paulsen realized she wanted to pursue work in theater.

The choice wasn’t easy to make when so many of her friends were entering more lucrative fields.

Looking at the stream of Yalies entering consulting and finance post-graduation, many students pin the blame on Yale’s Office of Career Strategy. Recruitment events for Morgan Stanley and Goldman abound on campus, but jobs in theater and writing can be harder to find.

“When I was a senior, all these people were going into consulting and banking,” says Yael Zinkow ’12, currently in Los Angeles pursuing work as a comeSEEARTS PAGE B8

LARISSA PHAM Pham, who moved to New York after graduation, has found a community of Yale alumni and writers there, who meet for informal writing workshops when they’re not working.

TIM CREAVIN

Creavin is a Theater Studies major who has performed in many undergraduate productions. He values the interdiscplinary Yale liberal arts education and thinks it instialls a DIY mentality in students.

WKND RECOMMENDS: Intensive Russian! So you can chat with the Mariinsky chorus! So you can later move to Siberia and live alone with a piece of fur.

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YALE DAILY NEWS · FRIDAY, JANUARY 16, 2015 · yaledailynews.com

WEEKEND READS

BEYOND THE BOOKS // BY CAROLINE WRAY

It is Alex Carrillo’s ’16 first time.

He hands his two frayed hardbacks to Renate Recknagel, who takes record of them and tells him he can keep them for two weeks. Carrillo asks when the books were last checked out.

“1969,” Recknagel replies, nonchalant.

Carrillo’s eyes get a little wider. “I’ll take good care of them,” he promises. Recknagel smiles, he does not look worried.

I am alone with the two of them in the Institute Library — a 189-year-old membership library on Chapel Street, sandwiched tightly between a tattoo parlor and Nim’s Jewelry Store.

Formerly known as the Young Men’s Institute, the Institute Library has occupied this building since acquiring it in 1878.

I walk into the reading room and turn on the ceiling lamps by pulling the dangling tassels that hang at eye level. They evoke antique furniture and dust. Many visitors have characterized the library as “frozen in time,” or an access point to the past, and in some sense this is true: The last person to check out Carrillo’s books did so more than four decades ago, and the reading room is silent, dark and decidedly old. But it is not dead; signs of life stir. The tassels sway whimsically for several minutes after I pull them, like a hypnotist’s watch. And what of the books?

Enticing subjects call out from the thicker spines on the shelves: “The Power Game,” “The Money Culture,” “Justice.” “Mind,” “Habit,” “Plato.” There are biographies, too: Shakespeare, Thoreau, Truman, Kennedy, Oprah and two each on Barbara and Laura Bush.

I pull out an album of Institute Library documents from 1826– 1896. Article I of the Institute’s Constitution appears again and again, in recorded speeches and in frayed newsletters: “The object of this institute is mutual assistance in the attainment of useful knowledge.” *** Fewer than 20 membership libraries like this remain open in North America. Founded in the 18th and 19th centuries, before the advent of the public library system, they provided a means for the middle class to pool resources and gain access to reading materials.

In the beginning, members would donate their own books and pay 25 cents per month to gain access to a borrowing collection as well as a commu-

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nity. But the need for this sort of library diminished as the public system grew, causing the demise of nearly every single subscription library in the nation.

Richard Wendorf has edited two books on membership libraries in the United States.

There has been, he says, a “dramatic” decline in what was once a pillar of intellectual life for the middle class.

This makes sense; after all, why would someone choose to pay for a library with a smaller collection than one they have free access to? It is almost more surprising that any membership library has held on.

The Institute Library has done so only by constantly finding new ways to serve its lasting mission. Over its nearly twocentury life, it has functioned as a library as well as a debate hall, a lecture space, a social spot and a classroom.

Following the foundation of the New Haven Public Library in 1887, book lending at the Institute Library took a backseat to the more communal aspects of its identity, and it became a vibrant space for discourse.

Throughout the course of the 19th century, famous American minds like Ralph Waldo Emerson, Frederick Douglass, Anna E. Dickinson and Henry Ward Beecher came to speak. At one point, it hosted between 600 and 700 classes a year as well as regular debates.

But over the course of the 20th century, this activity slowed to a stop. Membership numbers sunk, budgets deflated and outreach slowly diminished. Will Baker, the library’s director from 2011 through last spring, said that this shift occurred gradually as the notion of a library as a place for silence and solitude spread.

President of the library’s Board of Directors Greg Pepe said that when he joined the board of the library in the 1990s, the place was “moribund.” When he became president in 2008, there were only 175 members.

But today, he said, there are well more than 500, who pay dues ranging from $25 per year for an “Apprentice”-level membership to $125 a year for “Patron” status.

Pepe and others credit this revitalization largely to Baker.

“For a good part of the ’80s and ’90s, the place just sort of sat there,” longtime New Haven resident, Institute Library member and Deputy Chief Communications Officer for the Yale Office of Public Affairs and Communications Michael Morand ’87 said.

“And then Will came in, and it was like he threw open the doors

and shouted, ‘We’re here!’”

Baker collaborated with the Board of Directors to breathe new life and money into the organization. He opened the space up to the public with events, fundraisers, guest speakers, programs and a new gallery on the third floor, which had been closed for 40 years.

Baker, the Board and members agreed — although Baker said that some met the idea with hesitation — that books alone could not keep the Library alive.

Although Morand said that books “always will be core in

what distinguishes this from a coffee shop or a performance hall,” he added that “it became clear that they are not enough.”

In fact, Morand said that “library” might not be the best word to describe the Institute Library’s activities today. Rather, he suggested the term “athenaeum,” which connotes intellectual discourse and a community of learners in addition to a research and reading space. It’s a name that other membership libraries, like the Boston Athenaeum, have adopted.

“The value of membership is not merely in the printed texts,” he said. “It’s really a mental gymnasium.”

Pepe believes people yearn for the social interaction and intellectual exchange that the revitalization has fostered.

“To have 300 percent growth in our membership over the last four to five years means that there’s still a place for us to have meaningful conversations

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Now look here, see. This is a classic gangster movie and you’se a fool if you disagree.

within the fabric of our city,” he said.

The library’s balance sheets back up his assertion that the new approach has attracted new attention: In a period of just a couple of years, the Library’s revenue — the money made from membership, fundraising and gifts — went from $6,700 to about $110,000.

“There was something really heroic about that 19th century mission,” Baker said. “We just had to rediscover what it was.” ***

Perhaps the most successful new program is Amateur Hour, curated by acclaimed writers and New Haven residents Jack Hitt and Joshua Foer ’04.

The program brings in ofteneccentric experts to speak on a wildly varying array of fields: There has been a been a vampire hunter, a master origamist, a phony psychic and the inventor of a made-up language called “Ithkuil.”

And Pepe recalled the shocked — and, for many, convinced — looks of awe around the room when a visiting Harvard physicist described his theory of the possibility of time travel.

At another point, a husbandwife team of taxidermists from Massachusetts drove in to give a talk to a sold-out crowd. Armed with their knowledge and a set of carcasses, the couple sat before the crowd, perhaps in the very spot Dickinson or Douglass occupied 150 years before them.

With their backs to books that

hadn’t been checked out since 1969 or 1935, they began to stuff the dead bodies. Jaws dropped.

These strange spectacles have attracted a diverse but dedicated following. Shizue RocheAdachi ’15, who is the audio editor for Amateur Hour, said that the typical crowd for a show is a combination of “middle-aged patrons who sit in the front, and then a significant number of bedraggled-looking twenty-somethings.” Hitt says his audience is drawn from the “NPR crowd.”

RocheAdachi, for one, got involved through her work with the Yale Farm, which contributes to the Institute Library’s nowannual pig roast (another initiative of Hitt’s).

During the several hours necessary to prepare the pig, RocheAdachi told Hitt about her previous radio experience.

Hitt was in need of an audio editor to record the shows for transcription in the Virginia Quarterly Review, and soon thereafter RocheAdachi began audio editing for Amateur Hour as a volunteer. She now does the work for hire.

As soon as she saw the space, RocheAdachi says, she fell in love. She was drawn to its “slow tempo” and its isolation; despite the library’s proximity to campus, RocheAdachi is one of only a handful of members who are Yale undergraduates. Yet she says there is a “neighborliness” among patrons: After every Amateur Hour, she says, someone approaches her to chat.

RocheAdachi said that she enjoys how the Institute Library connects her to New Haven through a channel other than Yale. And for its part, the Institute Library, under Baker and his successor Natalie Elicker, has made a conscious decision to become a more integral part of the New Haven community.

“The library has really contributed to the renaissance of New Haven,” Morand said, explaining that its presence is one of the cultural assets that make New Haven an exceptional small city.

“In recent years, New Haven has become a sort of ‘collaboratory,’” he added. “By which I mean there’s a real culture of people coming together and cooperating, and of cultural organizations supporting each other.”

Last year, the New Haven Review merged with the Institute Library and is now an official library publication, a relationship that Pepe called “perfect.”

KickBack, an LGBTQ support group for local teenagers and young adults, now has its weekly

// SARAH ECKINGER

meetings in the building.

All of this collaboration makes for a more social space, which Baker says was his original goal.

He recalls one lecture by the leader of Ballet Haven, a local non-profit offering rigorous ballet classes for at-risk grade schoolers. An Institute Library member, a female engineer, attended the event and met one of Ballet Haven’s young dancers, a Kenyan immigrant who aspired to become an engineer herself.

They organized a coffee date.

“The library should be a social space that encourages serendipitous interaction and coincidences,” Baker said. “These people came together and made connections and shared ideas.

And who knows? Hopefully that young girl and the woman who spoke with her are still having coffee.”

Mutual assistance in the attainment of useful knowledge: The library’s mission endures. *** On the third Thursday of every month, the Poetry Institute — another local group — hosts an open mic and poetry reading in the Institute Library.

They have done so consistently for the last seven years, although Mark McGuire-Sanchez, one of the Poetry Institute’s hosts, suspects that they may have missed just one, because of weather.

On this Thursday, there are close to 40 gathered in the reading room. Maybe half a dozen of us are under the age of 55. Institute Library volunteer Frank Cochran LAW ’69 is in the front row, and he tells us about the library, encouraging everyone to apply for membership and donate to the capital campaign.

“The place was a really venerable institution until about 1910,” he says. “And then it stalled a bit — until very recently.”

He says it’s “a place for books, and not for Kindle readers,” although he’s sure to add the caveat that plenty of new literary material has been added in recent years. Then he sits down, and the open mic begins.

The poems are riddled with references: to Darwin, the Brontes, General Patton and El Greco.

In his own poem, Cochran recalls listening to jazz while reading a book checked out from the Institute Library. Gazing at the stacks behind him, I wonder which book it was — and how long it will be until the next person checks it out.

Contact CAROLINE WRAY at caroline.wray@yale.edu .

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YALE DAILY NEWS · FRIDAY, JANUARY 16, 2015 · yaledailynews.com

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WEEKEND ARTS

YO YO MA: KEEPING TIME AND LOSING IT // BY ELENA SAAVEDRA BUCKLEY

// STEVEN LEWIS

About halfway through Tuesday’s concert in Woolsey Hall featuring cellist Yo-Yo Ma, the audience started to laugh. Ma, proper in an orange tie and round glasses, sat onstage with Aldo Parisot, a professor at the Yale School of Music and the University’s longest-serving faculty member. Between pieces from Bach and Haydn, the two had what had been billed by press releases as a “lively and informative conversation.” Instead of something predictable, though — with prepared questions and friendly sips of chilled water—Parisot added a bit of absurdity. The 94-year-old yelled into the microphone, interrupting and answering questions that weren’t asked. It felt spontaneous and messy in a way that Ma’s resume, including more than 15 Grammys and appearances from Carnegie Hall to Sesame Street, often doesn’t.

At one point, cutting off Ma as he began a question, Parisot waved his arms and shouted, “I told you, time does not exist! It’s an illusion!” Even though the “conversation” turned into an ad hoc stand-up routine, what Parisot said felt true, especially after Ma lifted his bow off the cello’s strings at the end of the night. Time is an illusion when Yo-Yo Ma plays — not because of his treatment of each note, but because he knows how to demand the attention of his listeners.

A concerto feels as if it has flown by in seconds, and as classical music tries to expand its audience and establish a footing with young people, that transcendent effect is worth much more than double-digit gold trophies.

Benefiting the School of Music’s

cello program, Tuesday’s performance let the cellist flex his Mascles with a duet, an unaccompanied suite and a concerto. He played the first, Jean-Baptiste Barrière’s Sonata in G major for two cellos, with Yale cello professor Ole Akahoshi.

The light glinted off the two instruments, making them look like small amber jewels reflected in the shiny black stage, but their sound filled the space. The two passed baroque melodies back and forth, friendly and cordial. Then, aggressively, Ma began the third movement with a strong, low note like an unexpected punch to the face. (The audience giggled then, too.) Akahoshi replied with as much force, and the duet ran off until the last notes, when the fight ended with Ma and Akahoshi holding their hands in the air, both winners.

Johann Sebastian Bach’s Suite No. 3 for solo cello, one of the big fish of the instrument’s repertoire, came next. Ma has likely played this piece countless times, and his interpretations of Bach are everywhere; search “cello” on Spotify, and his recordings of the suites will be some of the top results. At Woolsey, each phrase — from the wandering cascades of the Prélude to the folk-like grit of the Gigue — flowed automatically from Ma’s fingers but still consumed his whole body. His feathery hair bounced against his forehead as he threw himself at the strings. Sometimes, he pushed his cello away as if it were too energetic to control.

The same hyper-familiarity came through in the concerto, Joseph Haydn’s first for the cello. Parisot conducted Ma and musicians from

the School of Music. The piece has relentless drive and a classical, petticoated bounce, and Ma’s version was wickedly quick and expressive. He attacked each phrase, swelling before immediately pulling back, only to pounce on the next with more speed.

While colorful, his emphases made it difficult at times to grasp what the music’s details tried to say. Intricate passages passed by in blurs, and while I could marvel at his athleticism, I didn’t have time to appreciate what had happened seconds before.

Despite its resultant whiplash, Ma’s style has hidden advantages.

Just as Parisot remarked about timebeing an illusion, Ma is able to package big, complex pieces into digestible bursts. Whether a short, lively duet or a 20-minute piece, his performances always feel immediate and alive, and those qualities are crucial for much of classical music. They make even slowly unfolding pieces, like a six-part cello suite, accessible to the shortest of attention spans.

They are the reason for Ma’s success with everyone, from musicians to presidents to children.

In the middle of the Bach, as if I hadn’t already been convinced, Parisot’s comment made sense again.

Between bow strokes, a police siren began to wail behind Woolsey’s dim walls. For a second, the sound seemed alien, as if I had never heard it before.

It took a second to break free from the magnetic pull of Ma’s playing to recognize it. But when the sound faded, I was sucked right back in.

Contact ELENA SAAVEDRA BUCKLEY at elena.saavedrabuckley@yale.edu .

From Chainsaws to Calvino // BY AMELIA NIERENBERG

// JULIA HENRY

A life-size, maniacally-grinning, chainsaw-wielding man waited opposite the gallery entrance at the Yale School of Art’s Comprehensive Undergraduate Exhibition. His cheerful expression, drawn in charcoal across four wooden boards by Saybrook’s Perry Holmes, invited his viewers to relax, take a deep breath, enjoy. This nonchalance added immediate levity to the exhibition, which featured work from every student from every fall semester art class. Perhaps the chainsaw wielder’s grin dictated the easy atmosphere within the gallery, as students and faculty wandered past the work of undergraduate artists in stolen minutes between squares on their iCals.

The Director of Undergraduate Studies for the art department, Lisa Kereszi, loosely curated the exhibition, grouping the work by courses. But none of the art on display was labeled with the course title, professor’s name, or artist’s name. At first, I found myself annoyed, craving more information. I am accustomed to a museum or a gallery where, at minimum, the name of the piece and the artist accompany the work itself. But as I reflected, I realized that this omission of labels proved fitting to showcase a vast variety of student work.

Although born of necessity rather than a curatorial vision (she did not have the time to make labels),

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Kereszi’s label-less curation led the audience around the gallery and created the exhibition’s laidback attitude. Student visitors to the show had often been members of the fall classes, and this format prohibited them from bee-lining to their own work. Without clear boundaries between classes, the exhibition asked us, the audience, to interact with all of Yale’s undergraduate artists as a collective.

And what this collective displays is a remarkable variety, in both the range of media explored and the personal style of the artists. Painting professor Sam Messer described the exhibition’s unifying thread, and the overarching teaching philosophy of Yale’s art department, as “visual thinking.” Motivated by the process of visual thought rather than the product, the art department and the Comprehensive Exhibition focus more on what the students have to say than the precision with which they say it.

With so many students having so many things to say, personal voice proved a refreshing continuity throughout the show.

I found myself marveling at the diverse ways students interpreted a portrait assignment for a photography class. Although the assignment seemed rudimentary, the portraits ranged from a gestural photograph presumably captured using a long exposure,

to a clean and arresting emotional image of a heavily madeup woman. Within one assignment, students created bold and emotional pieces, no two of which were alike.

Like these portraits, the typography portion of the exhibition stood out for the diversity of interpretation within one assignment. Students experimented with text from Italo Calvino, a modernist Italian writer, treating the very lettering as a malleable character to de- (and subsequently re-) construct. They interpreted his text in vastly different ways, bringing humor, subtlety, geography and full experimentation. In one of the works, Calvino’s text assumed a topographical landscape. In another, the words “Alive” and “Dead” vied for space in the middle of a stark, broken composition. Simply curated, the 24 works hung in an evenly-spaced grid. This construction avoided distraction, allowing the pieces to operate uninhibited.

Another example of the loose, expression-driven approach to understanding the visual thought process came in the small and dynamic compositions from Messer’s “Painting and Time” class, which he pointed out to me. Students had less than two hours to complete each in-class assignment in locations ranging from YSO practice to the

ORGAN RECITAL

Woolsey Hall // 7:30 p.m.

“Student degree recitals are one hour in length.”

Peabody Museum to the pool at Payne Whitney. I admit to having initially overlooked these small, haphazard works. I was too caught up in my own conceptions of what “deserves” to go in a show. After a lifetime of going to museums and galleries, I expected the work hanging on walls to be finished, finessed, something closer to an aesthetic ideal. But the paintings from Messer’s class explored the journey of creating art: linking mediums to subject matter, experimenting with changing light in a landscape, or rendering motion in a still image. As a result, the small paintings proved to be loose and energetic mood studies of location.

As I left the gallery, I turned for a once-over glance at the exhibition. Again, the chainsaw man’s grin confronted me, and I almost offered a little salute. Perhaps the real source of his humor was his direct contrast with the neutral still life compositions common to most introductory drawing classes. Even within one course or assignment, students used fundamental techniques as springboards to render moments of their own lives in image. The result? A visual kaleidoscope of diverse and delightful personal narratives and styles.

Contact AMELIA NIERENBERG at amelia.nierenberg@yale.edu .

WKND RECOMMENDS: The American Novel since 1945. Just kidding, it was canceled and you’re also not good enough!

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YALE DAILY NEWS · FRIDAY, JANUARY 16, 2015 · yaledailynews.com

PAGE B7

WEEKEND RESOLUTIONS

Clumsy Resolutions // BY SOFIA BRAUNSTEIN

Last year, I decided to make more resolutions. I thought I was being rather clever: In bypassing the whole stick-to-one-resolution-per-year deal, I could consistently make smaller resolutions on a daily, or weekly basis. After a variety of failed resolutions, I made one for the fall semester, hoping I could stick with it. I resolved to overcome my clumsiness. (Now that I think about it, of course, the resolution was doomed to fail: I cannot control the physical world or my body).

The school year started out fine.

No trips or falls. But two months in, trouble came knocking.

First, I fell down the Bass Library

steps. Yes, I was wearing heels and, yes, that was a stupid decision, but I still fell down 10 hard, stone steps!

The following week, while running in the Pierson gym, no high heels in sight, I fell off the treadmill.

After a sad attempt to get back on, I fell again. I still have scars from the encounter with that evil contraption.

Finally, I experienced the most terrifying mishap right before screw. A few of my friends and I had snagged a nice table at a tapas restaurant. Small candles on each table illuminated the room. The dinner went wonderfully until a friend suggested that we take a selfie. As we leaned over, my hair trailed into one

of the candles and burst into flames.

Although I managed to extinguish the flames with my fingers and some water, the experience was incredibly scarring (emotionally, not physically).

I think I learned my lesson this year. I’m choosing one resolution and sticking to it, and this resolution has nothing to do with my clumsiness.

I’ve already come to terms with my own permanent, inevitable clumsiness. My resolution is to exercise three times a week. Super original, I know.

New Year’s Toast // BY KELSI CAYWOOD

For all the presents we’d regift if Facebook didn’t show photos of our friends with their “new” gifts.

(But we promised ourselves that we’d be economical in 2015!) For all our thinner-than-us friends who resolve to get even thinner than us this year. For when ‘getting the girl’ becomes just stalking her CourseTable and magically appearing in all her classes during shopping week. For all the Grandmas with Fitbits®. For putting off our resolutions and giving the first

Contact SOFIA BRAUNSTEIN at sofia.braunstein@yale.edu .

Bilbo’s Resolution Solution

week of January a get-out-ofjail-free card. For finally getting in touch with old friends…over Facebook.

Because two cups of coffee is less of an addiction than three cups of coffee. Because those awkward daring haircuts grow out and the Christmas lights might be down by Valentine’s Day this year.

Because maybe your Valentine’s Day gift won’t be from your parents. Because you’ll outdo your 2014 self by watching two seasons

of “Game of Thrones” in a row instead of just one. Because maybe you’ll get enough sleep until shopping-week-Woad’s. Because maybe you’ll remember your resolutions longer than you’ll remember this article.

Here’s to 2015, even if it only means being slightly less mediocre by accomplishing slightly less mediocre resolutions.

Contact KELSI CAYWOOD at kelsi.caywood@yale.edu .

// BY EMILY XIAO Over winter break, my friend told me to try Sims Freeplay on my phone. Being the sheeperson that I am, I downloaded it from the App Store and created my first character, Bilbo Baggins, who lives in a log cabin. (I had just watched the “Hobbit” trilogy.) On the afternoon of December 30, as I watched Bilbo plant bell peppers in his garden patch, a popup appeared: “NEW QUEST AVAILABLE,” it said. “THE RESOLUTION SOLUTION: Complete this quest to get a Party Pack.” Bilbo was definitely the kind of hobbit who would dig a Party Pack, so I proceeded. My first step of the quest, titled “Discuss Resolutions with a Sim,” explained that one of Bilbo’s resolutions was “to have more par-

ties.” Good thing I’m gonna get him a party pack, I thought to myself.

But I couldn’t figure out how to complete said task, how to “Discuss Resolutions with a Sim.” I tapped Bilbo multiple times with my index finger, but the only options that came up were “Ultimate Make Over” and “Have Birthday,” and Bilbo wasn’t yet ready to grow up — he still wanted to enjoy youth and have more parties, as stated. So I gave up and, after watching him stretch for a few seconds, I made him plant more bell peppers. Oh, well. Bilbo will have to wait until 2016 to wear his party hat.

A Hypothetical Conversation

Contact EMILY XIAO at emily.xiao@yale.edu .

// BY STEPHANIE ADDENBROOKE AND ELIZABETH MILES

WKND Resolves // BY WKND WKND slept real late last semester. It started innocently enough: One Saturday morning, sated with suds from the night before and feeling decadent, we awoke at 10:30 and decided we deserved a break, so we went back to sleep. At 2:43, WKND rolled out of bed, took a shower, and began our day.

But when we tried to get to sleep that night, our Saturday sloth came back to haunt us. We fell asleep at 4:30 a.m. and awoke at 1:45. And so the cycle began. With no

SATURDAY JANUARY

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morning seminars to rouse us, WKND became practically nocturnal, navigating the streets of New Haven by echolocation, feasting only on Wenzels or instant noodles (and once a Wenzel garnished with instant noodles.)

This continued through the end of the semester. And so, on December 28, catching a glimpse of our pale and flabby figure in the mirror, WKND resolved to Wake Up Earlier This Semester.

Fast forward three weeks.

Our alarm clock rings. It’s

THE VQ SHOW

JE Theater // 9:00 p.m.

Laugh, live, love and learn with the funniest dweebs on campus!

9:45 a.m. on the first Thursday of shopping period and WKND’s schedule is just about almost kinda set. But one thing we do know is that we have no Thursday classes before our 3:30 seminar, “Traffic Enforcement in the American City, 1910-2000.”

And so we hit the snooze button once. And then again.

And then a 17th time. And then our alarm clock gives up and suddenly it’s 2:30 and it’s time to shower and eat a rushed breakfast.

There’s always next year.

WKND RECOMMENDS:

Liz: Steph, I’m hungry.

Steph: This is not new. You were hungry yesterday.

You were hungry before lunch. You were hungry after lunch.

Liz: So were you. Chinese was your idea last time.

Steph: It was necessary.

Liz: “Necessary.”

Steph: I didn’t even get into Structure of Networks… #needaQR #englishmajor #whatislyfe Liz: #whataredumplings Steph: This really needs to stop… I spent more money on food this week than I did on textbooks… and I went to the Bookstore! #toolazyforAmazon #englishmajor Liz: We could bench press your books.

Steph: I mean, I can walk to the car… to pick up the food. That’s exercise - you have to go outside.

Liz: Exercise gives you endorphins.

Steph: So does chocolate #truefact. We haven’t had pizza in a while…

Liz: “A while.” If Marie Antoinette lived with us, it would have been “Let Them Eat Everything.”

Steph: I wonder how she would’ve felt about Claire’s.

Liz: I like to comfort myself that it’s a vegetarian cafe.

Steph: That’s healthy, right? Like, it has the word vegetable in…

Liz: Spring rolls have vegetables.

SUND AY JANUARY

A creative writing class that requires an application. The professor will say, “You are not on the roster and you must leave the room.”

18

Steph: Rolls. Lol… and she “rolls” into class....

Liz: Structure of Networks? ;) Steph: I can’t believe they capped that…

Liz: There’s a “History of Food” class. You could take that.

Steph: Stop.

Liz: Wait. I didn’t make any New Year’s Resolutions this year. What if we tried not to order food past 10 p.m. this semester? The refrigerator would look like a gleaming gate to Heaven.

Steph: *insert gif of Benedict Cumberbatch crying his beautiful eyes out* Steph: …

Steph: …

Steph: …

Steph: I don’t like the sound of this Liz: The New Haven restaurant economy doesn’t like the sound of this.

Steph: What if we put people out of business? IT’S THEIR LIVELIHOOD, LIZ. People are able to eat because we eat.

Liz: Crunchbutton, then?

Steph: Please, it’s been loaded this entire time.

// THAO DO

Contact STEPHANIE ADDENBROOKE and ELIZABETH MILES at stephanie.addenbrooke@yale.edu and elizabeth.a.miles@yale.edu .

MLK STAGE PERFORMANCE Peabody Museum // 1:00 p.m.

This celebration has it all — jazz, dance, drumming. Even a drill squad.

WKND RECOMMENDS: “Sex, Evolution, and Human Nature.” Say you’re in this class if you’re scrambling for a foolproof pick-up line.

PAGE B8

YALE DAILY NEWS · FRIDAY, JANUARY 16, 2015 · yaledailynews.com

WEEKEND COVER

ART FOR ART’S SAKE // BY EMMA GOLDBERG

ARTS FROM PAGE B3 dian. “It was scary because we didn’t have any recruiters coming onto campus to say, ‘Hey here’s how you pursue comedy.’”

Recently, however, the University’s career services took a significant step in catering to the undergraduate arts community. In the summer of 2013, OCS appointed an advisor for students pursuing careers in the arts, Katie Volz.

Since stepping into her new role, Volz has launched a wide range of initiatives, from hosting screenwriting workshops to connecting students with alumni in theater. She finds that alumni in the arts are particularly eager to lend a hand, recognizing the unique stumbling blocks in their fields of work.

Volz strives to remain particularly sensitive to the financial difficulties that aspiring artists encounter.

Last semester, she organized a financial planning workshop for musicians and performing artists, during which OCS outlined sample budgets and encouraged students to consider alternative revenue sources.

Volz takes an optimistic — though realistic — approach in helping students finance their artistic careers.

“I don’t entirely ignore the ‘starving artist’ notion,” she explained. “While a life in the arts is possible, one has to plan for it in order to give yourself the best possible chance of succeeding — like anything else!”

The new OCS approach operates under a simple premise: Yale students don’t have to exchange artistic dreams for recruitment sessions at the Omni. It’s not easy to make the leap from the Calhoun Cabaret to Broadway, but it’s also not impossible.

Take Gabrielle Hoyt-Disick ’15, a senior major in Theater Studies.

Eventually, she told me, she is going to be a theater director. Hoyt-Disick has found OCS’s new arts-focused resources “quite helpful” and said she plans to attend an upcoming OCS workshop on careers in theater.

“I just met with Katie Volz a couple of days ago, and I can’t say enough good things about her,” Hoyt-Disick said. “She answered every question I had with thought and specificity.”

Creavin imagined that OCS resources are geared toward students not as familiar with arts opportunities. Those who have already learned about major casting sites might not find the resources as helpful, he explained. He adds that OCS might take a few simple steps to improve its services: The website might list opportunities according to region

and provide contact information for Yale-affiliated arts companies.

Despite these shortcomings, OCS advisors find themselves in a unique position. In many ways, Yale students are removed from the challenges facing most recent graduates. We’re disconnected from that national narrative — the typical young person who fails to find work and moves back in with his parents.

The unemployment rate among workers under age 25 is 14.5 percent.

Yet by June 2014, over 95 percent of Yale’s graduating seniors had jobs lined up for the fall.

“There’s this almost self-indulgent feeling of invincibility because we’re part of this history and we have this name stamped on our diploma,” says Tao Tao Holmes ’14, a former columnist for the News, now teaching English in rural China. “We have this sort of head-in-the-sand mentality of ‘of course we’ll get jobs.’”

Students with that mentality might feel more comfortable gambling with their careers. Charlie Kelly ’14 said that as a Yale graduate, “It feels like you have a backup plan.”

“I know that if I sent my resume around enough I’d find something that would keep me alive,” Kelly explained. “It leaves you in a good place to set yourself up creatively.” In other words, being a Yalie affords the opportunity for risk. And for many, these are risks worth taking.

Double-Edged Sword On a Friday evening, Larissa Pham ’14 gathers with other Yale alumni in Teo Soares’s ’13 New York apartment for a writing workshop. One of the graduates in attendance now works at Google, another at a Manhattan dance company, another at a local non-profit. They’re doing what it takes to get by, doing real things and adult things.

But in their spare time they write and share their work with one another.

“I love having this group to get together and bounce around ideas,” Pham said. She draws inspiration and support from this network of creative Yale graduates, all finding ways to balance their interest in writing with their day jobs.

Pham’s writing group is just one example of an alumni cohort staying connected in the working world.

New York City — colloquially known as “Yale Part II” — is home to many communities of alumni who live and work and socialize together.

“Almost all of my friends from college live within 10 blocks from

me,” says Willa Fitzgerald ’13, an actress living in Crown Heights. As she was making the decision to move to New York and audition for shows, it helped her to know she could rely on the friends she’d made in Yale’s theater community.

Paulsen told me that, right before our phone interview, she went out to dinner with three other Yale graduates who are also auditioning for shows in New York. They all traded tips on New York theater — what to wear for auditions, how to prepare in advance.

Dolquist said he sees no drawbacks to New York’s theater world, where Yale graduates can find a broad range of opportunities and a welcoming alumni community.

Lucy Fleming ’16, an aspiring actress and writer, is a bit more skeptical of the post-Yale migration to New York. “I do think there’s value in taking time away from the Yale bubble,” she explains. “I know it’s a huge shock to leave undergrad and suddenly not be surrounded by all your friends, but that’s also an important aspect of transitioning into adult life.”

Living and working with friends from college, many graduates do indeed make a concerted effort to break into new social circles. Antosh decided to actively seek out new friends in New York. “Staying totally immersed in an exported Yale bubble was never attractive to me,” she explained.

It’s for that reason that some Yale graduates leave the Northeast. Holmes told me that one of her Global Affairs advisors urged her not to “continue Yale” by moving to New York City. “I see Yalies living together and I anticipated feeling a small pang of FOMO, but I haven’t had even the smallest bit,” she said. “Four years is enough. I was ready to leave.”

New York’s expansive Yale network didn’t really appeal to Holmes.

And she isn’t the only Yale graduate navigating a complicated relationship with the institutional name on her degree. Graduates say that in the theater industry, stamping the Yale brand on your resume doesn’t always work in your favor.

“I find that the Yale pedigree is a double-edged sword,” said Antosh.

“I’ve had directors who probably gave me a second look because they assumed I was a ‘smart actor,’ and I’ve had other directors almost not cast me because they’d worked with other Yalies who had a chip on their shoulder.”

Kelly, who’s looking for work as a writer in Los Angeles, said that he has noticed a similar adversity toward

Yale graduates. He finds that employers respond well to narratives of desperation, tales of sacrifice for art’s sake. “If you come into meetings like ‘I’m this well-bred Yale graduate,’ they don’t respond well,” Kelly said.

“They automatically assume you’re this trust fund-y preppy graduate who already has their ducks in a row.”

Summer Homes, Starving Artists John Stillman ’14 and Brian Loeb ’14 were roommates their sophomore year at Yale. Post-graduation, they’re living in the same place again: New York. (Surprise!) But this time, they’re not sharing a bedroom — they’re not even in the same neighborhood.

Loeb is working at J.P. Morgan, living in a Tribeca apartment with two other graduates. He typically gets into work around 9:00 in the morning and can finish anywhere between 10:00 p.m. and 3:00 a.m., sometimes even later. Though the hours are long, Loeb said he’s enjoying work and loves living in New York City with its myriad bars, restaurants and concerts. His apartment, he added, is “a lot bigger than I would’ve expected.”

You’ll find Stillman in Williamsburg, where he’s working as a freelance journalist. He has taken on side jobs to support himself; he has worked as a caretaker and he has done gallery installations. He has even modeled for a Facebook messenger ad. Right now, he said, he’s not ready to determine his lifelong career — he’s experimenting, trying to see what fits.

That’s somewhat difficult in a costly city like New York, where the disparities between professions become apparent pretty quickly.

“I’m making enough to live, but my friends are making enough to buy summer homes,” Stillman laughed.

“I’m happy for them, but it’s crazy how the disparity is not something that takes time to set in.”

Charlotte Parker ’13, now working on a farm in New Jersey, has also found that class divisions take root after graduation. “When you’re at Yale, finances aren’t totally relevant,” she explained. Of course, she continues, there’s that small subset of students who eat at posh restaurants and throw lavish parties — but frequently students’ financial situations are unclear. “Once you graduate, you can tell a bit more about what people’s financial situations are by what they’re doing on the weekends, where they go out to eat.”

Sometimes, Parker sees the Insta-

gram photos posted by her classmate working at Vogue. Despite living and studying together for four years, she said, their lifestyles won’t ever be the same.

Even if you’re doing what you love, you might not find it easy to pursue your passions when your classmates are making six figures. And some say it’s not all a matter of personal choice: Our undergraduate lifestyle informs our career plans. Yale and its frills — its Parade of Comestibles, its endless fellowships and grants — might encourage certain expectations of future wealth. To some students, the emphasis here is on the luxe (and not the lux).

“You become accustomed to a lifestyle at Yale that’s kind of unattainable if you really do the starving artist thing,” explained Kelly. “You get chained to a kind of fanciness.”

Finance and consulting recruiters give us the chance to latch on to that fanciness, Kelly said, with their lavish information sessions at the Study.

Paulsen certainly felt the pressures that Kelly describes. She says it wasn’t easy to turn down a highpaying consulting job and its accompanying prestige. “But I realized that sort of work is always available,” she said. “If I don’t try to do acting now though, I never will. I’ll never again put a two-year pause on my life to be a starving actress.”

Not a single person asked me if I wanted to audition for a management consulting troupe freshman year. On the other hand, I was accosted by about five comedy clubs and nine publications and all 15 a cappella groups.

So what happens between an extracurricular bazaar and senior year? At Yale, are the arts just a hobby, or are they a possible career?

I guess there’s no easy answer.

But still, so many graduates are making art and making ends meet.

Right now, they’re the four percent. And as OCS expands its arts resources, their numbers may grow.

Antosh told me she was willing to make sacrifices for a career in theater. Unlike some of her peers, she gave up money and security and outside affirmation. But to her, the art was worth the risk.

“Deciding to pursue a career in the arts was never a matter of courage,” she said. “It was a matter of hunger and love.”

Contact EMMA GOLDBERG at emma.goldberg@yale.edu .

YALIES’ CAREERS: CLASS OF 2013 EMPLOYMENT

BY INDUSTRY

SUNDAY JANUARY

18

MLK ADDRESS

Battell Chapel // 6:00 p.m.

Go listen to Johnnetta B. Cole — the only person who has been president of two separate historically black women’s colleges.

WKND RECOMMENDS: A seminar so exclusive it doesn’t exist.

YALE DAILY NEWS · FRIDAY, JANUARY 16, 2015 · yaledailynews.com

PAGE B9

WEEKEND NARRATES

THANKS (PART 2) // BY JACKSON MCHENRY

// ASHLYN OAKES

After dinner, we walked down to the beach. We stopped at a semicircular piece of shoreline surrounded by cliffs. Along the sand, wooden chairs and umbrellas ringed a few open fire pits. The world glowed yellow-orange.

Cam placed some logs in a perfect triangle in the middle of the fire pit. Todd and Amy walked off across the beach to examine the tide pools near the spot where the cliff curved back into the water. I sat on a beach chair and watched the fire flicker to life.

As he walked along the sand, Todd raised his arms up to his sides like a little kid play-acting an airplane. He picked up a small stone and skipped it, four times, into the receding tide. It made him so happy to be here with the people he loved. The beach mattered to him. All of Todd’s favorite memories revolved around it. His family had grown up in Santa Monica, in a wooden bungalow along the shoreline.

He had gone surfing with his brothers, and sailing on rented boats in the marina with his dad. When Todd was fifteen, his dad disappeared. The family hired a detective, and then couldn’t afford to keep paying him. Todd’s brothers were convinced he ran away with another woman. Todd’s mom didn’t talk about it. Todd had said that they were wrong. His dad had probably just gotten caught in a riptide.

Maybe he went out to surf one morning, he told me, and lost his bearings in the water. Maybe his body simply drifted away. Maybe someday, I imagined Todd thinking, the sea would wash it back ashore.

“That was her favorite color.”

Cam pointed at the navy blue water.

“Mom’s.”

I had never heard him talk about her before. “Uh huh,” I said.

She had studied art history in college, Cam said, but she had given up her career and married Todd. Still, he remembered how she used to read him books about the Renaissance, as if she were remembering a part of her-

MOND AY JANUARY

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self that had stopped existing. Maybe that’s because the rest was busy ferrying Cam and Amy to school, to soccer practice. She cleaned. She bought snacks. She decorated for Halloween and Christmas. Decades passed. She got sick.

“She came to my graduation,” he said. By now, the fire had reached the larger logs and seemed to pull the wood toward its center as it crumbled.

The rest of the world was a purplish blue. “It was a month before she died.

She came, and she was wearing this ugly blonde wig. Her skin was pale and she looked hollow.”

“I’m sorry.”

“And I just thought — why bother?

Why hurt yourself to see something so stupid?”

I could barely remember whether my parents had come to my own graduation. They must have, but separately — mom on her own, dad with a girlfriend. I told Cam that things like graduations were important. They were rituals, signs designed to prove how much we care for each other. We work hard for each other. We sacrifice.

Or we don’t, I thought, we just move.

Across the country. Into ourselves.

We watch other people sacrifice. We watch other people change.

I flew back to Connecticut four years ago, I told Cam. My dad was dying.

Mom came to see him in the hospital.

They hadn’t talked in over a decade.

But she came, sweeping her thin, sunspotted arm in front of his younger girlfriend. She spent the entire time interrogating the doctor about treatment: “Will this really help him?” “Are you sure?” She opened the curtains.

She insulted the flower arrangement.

She squeezed his hand in hers, briefly, before she left the room.

“I say make the big gestures, because,” I said — I didn’t have the right way to phrase it. “I don’t know.

Maybe sometimes it’s worth fighting.”

Cam frowned. He turned back toward the ocean. The line between

COWBOYS AND CATTLE OPENING RECEPTION

sand and water was starting to blur, but you could still make out Todd and Amy’s silhouettes as they wandered back along the beach. Todd kicked his bare heels through the sand as he went, ignoring the pain he must have felt from stepping on little rocks and twigs. He looked at me and smiled, as if no one we knew had ever gone away.

“I found a ring in his drawer,” I said.

I was in Todd’s bedroom. He was in the bathroom brushing his teeth. “I don’t know — it must have been twenty years ago, but I found a ring in his drawer.”

“I SAY MAKE THE BIG GESTURES, BECAUSE,” I SAID — I DIDN’T HAVE THE RIGHT WAY TO PHRASE IT. “I DON’T KNOW. MAYBE SOMETIMES IT’S WORTH FIGHTING.” This was the part I hadn’t yet told Todd. When Jason and I had broken up, I had the job of separating our stuff. Among his underwear — Jason was never very neat — I found a little black box. I opened the box, took out the diamond ring, and slipped it on my finger. It was a cool and windy afternoon, the kind that seems made of a woolen gray light. I moved my hand in front of the window, and watched the ring scatter reflections across the floor. I had imagined Jason’s proposal before he and I had first moved to the city, with the giddiness of someone who was skipping a grade, moving straight into real maturity — and then I had started to dread it. I learned

I couldn’t have kids. I started to imagine us, old and resentful. He must have bought the ring before my depression set in, before I started picking fights whenever I could.

I put the ring back in the box, slipped the box into a pair of briefs and those briefs into a larger cardboard crate. The next day, I left all of Jason’s stuff outside the door of his parents’ townhouse.

Todd walked into the bedroom in his bathrobe. “I knew you were full of surprises, Annie,” he laughed. “I didn’t know there were this many.” He sat down next to me on the bed, cradling my hand in his. “Tell me,” he said.

“Who got you the nicer ring?”

“He did,” I said.

I didn’t have to tell the truth, and I wondered why I had. Maybe I wanted him to know that I had once loved Jason — that gawky blond guy who talked all the time but who never managed to say anything unexpected. I had to admit, when I went through Jason’s stuff that day, I had expected to find the ring.

I had to admit the other thing to Todd too — that it did not bother me, then, to know my future in advance. I was going to marry. I was going to stop thinking. Maybe it wasn’t love I felt then, but a peculiar strain of comfort.

But I wanted Todd to know that I had felt it once. Once, I was simply going to be happy.

Todd laughed. He loved me more than Jason had. The story of my ring was just another incident from my past, and weren’t we going to forget the past? He had placed himself at the end of it all anyway. Whatever I had suffered, he decided, he would make up for it.

“Do you pity me,” I asked. “For not having all the things that you’ve had?”

“Of course not,” Todd said, too quickly, in reply.

Contact JACKSON MCHENRY at jackson.mchenry@yale.edu .

WKND RECOMMENDS:

873 Whalley Avenue // 3 p.m.

WKND has never felt more invested in a photography exhibit.

“Intermediate Korean,” technically the highestrated course in the Yale bluebook.

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YALE DAILY NEWS · FRIDAY, JANUARY 16, 2015 · yaledailynews.com

WEEKEND COLUMNS

BEST OSCARS COLUMN IN A LEADING YALE PUBLICATION // BY MADELINE KAPLAN

Nominations for the 87th annual Academy Awards were announced yesterday morning, and frankly, my dear, they left a lot to be desired.

Oscar nominations always evince a mixture of pomp and circumstance and outrage. This year, though, the list of complaints feels longer than usual. David Oyelowo (“Selma”) and Jake Gyllenhaal (“Nightcrawler”) didn’t make the cut for “Best Actor.”

“Selma” director Ava DuVernay lost out on well deserved “Best Director” recognition. And no “Best Animated Feature” nomination for “The Lego Movie”! Some argue that the Oscars are now all but irrelevant, plagued by unfair procedures and paralyzed by an out-of-touch voting bloc. Despite the glamour and raw sex appeal of categories like “Sound Editing” and “Sound Mixing,” the Oscars no longer captivate American audiences they way they once did. Below, a list of new, more specific Oscar categories designed to better capture the ethos of this year in cinema:

hood”

9\jk 8nbnXi[ G_Xj\1 Ç9fp-

o “Boyhood”, writer-director Richard Linklater’s 12-year project about one boy’s boyish boyhood, provides a gorgeous, real-time glimpse of the formative experiences of one boy’s life. A narrative tour de force, the film explores the full gamut of human emotion and mid-2000s haircuts.

Gclj# `k _Xj X k`d\c\jj Xe[ `ejg`i`e^ message: All awkward phases must end. Eventually.

// ASHLYN OAKES

K_\ D\ipc Jki\\g 8nXi[ ]fi

Diaz. Some film executive heard that pitch and said yes, or else said maybe and then sort of forgot about it long enough that a new and hideous version of “Annie” ended up in theaters.

For those of us still in possession of a VHS copy of the 1999 “Annie,” this film will quickly disappear into the \k_\i f] Dfm`\j Pfl NXkZ_\[ 9\ZXlj\ Pfl N\i\ 9XYpj`kk`e^ Pfli C`kkc\ Cousins. But for a generation of children scarred by Cameron Diaz’s rendition of “Easy Street0”? Not even a surprise Christmas visit from FDR could undo that damage.

MADELINE KAPLAN MAD TV

C\Xjk E\Z\jjXip J\hl\c1 “Dolphin Tale 2”

Excellence in Being Meryl Streep: Meryl Streep Xj N_f\m\i J_\ GcXp\[ K_`j P\Xi o If a tree falls in a forest and no one is around to hear it, will Meryl Streep still be nominated for her captivating performance as the tree? The answer, history tells us, is a resounding yes. Her recent turn as the evil, blue-haired witch in Sondheimadapted “Into the Woods” just earned her an insane 19th career nomination, this time for “Best Supporting Actress.” Will she win? Does it matter?

Dfjk ;\gi\jj`e^ I\dXb\1 “Annie” o A classic musical, remade with Auto-Tune, starring Cameron

o I haven’t seen “Dolphin Tale 2,” nor did I see the original “Dolphin Tale.” I refuse, on principle, to watch any movie that is based on a true story about dolphins who teach people about the human condition/friendship/dolphin science. “Dolphin Tale 2” has a 67% rating on Rotten Tomatoes, which is impossible because the movie sounds terrible. I would feel bad about criticizing the work of history’s first dolphin actors, but I’m pretty jli\ [fcg_`ej ZXeÊk i\X[% Gi\kkp jli\%

Dfjk E\Z\jjXip J\hl\c1 8 Fifth “Bring It On” Movie o Did you know that it’s been almost six years since the fourth “Bring It On” movie was released?

Where has Kirsten Dunst been? And why don’t people make movies about krumping anymore? All of these questions would be answered by another “Bring It On” movie. This year really

could have used a movie about rival cheerleading squads who compete but are forced to put aside their differences and work together. The lead role would be perfect for a Hollywood upand-comer, someone like Cara Delevigne or Hilary Duff’s baby. Maybe in 2015…

Dfjk 9i`k`j_ G\i]fidXeZ\1 Benedict Cumberbatch as “Benedict Cumberbatch” o The Academy, like the rest of America, has a thing for guys with British accents. And this year’s bestknown Brit is the Britishest of them all. Benedict Cumberbatch has officially received his first-ever Oscar nomination for his role as codebreaker Alan Turing in “The Imitation Game.” Brits did well in the “Best Actor” category this year, colonizing two of the five spots (Eddie Redmayne is the other gent, nominated for playing Steven Hawking in “The Theory of Everything”). Whether or not Cumberbatch is crowned on Oscar night, his name alone sounds like it could imperialize a foreign nation, lose that nation in an eventual war of independence and then obtain a recurring guest spot on “Downton Abbey.”

9\jk :`e\dXk`Z GXike\ij_`g1 Pfl Xe[ E\kÔ`o o Watching all of Season 3 of “Gilmore Girls” in one sitting totally counts as a movie.

Contact MADELINE KAPLAN at madeline.kaplan@yale.edu .

OK, Sure On April 5, 2011, Tina Fey’s autobiography, “Bossypants,” was released to rave reviews and stellar sales. It garnered a glowing write-up in The E\n Pfib K`d\j Xe[ jkXp\[ Xk fi near the top of the Times’ bestseller list for five weeks. “Bossypants” was, in my opinion, worth all the hype. It was funny yet subtly powerful, personal yet unafraid to quietly make larger points.

Ever since the success of “Bossypants,” it appears that comediansturned-actors have been attempting to follow in Fey’s footsteps.

We’ve seen memoirs by Fey’s former coworkers on Saturday Night Live — Mindy Kaling, Rachel Dratch, Sarah Silverman — as well as others, including Chelsea Handler and Nick Offerman. These books were all predictably funny, yet, to me, none of them quite matched Fey’s book.

K_\ cXk\jk f] k_\j\ d\df`ij `j ÇP\j Gc\Xj\#È k_\ dlZ_$Xek`Z`gXk\[ XlkfY`f^iXg_p f] 8dp Gf\_c\i% Gf\_c\i# f] Zflij\# nXj X gfglcXi actor on Saturday Night Live and star

SCOTT STERN READING BETWEEN THE LINES f] k_\ _`k j`kZfd# ÇGXibj Xe[ I\Zi\Xk`fe%È @e _\i fne nfi[j# Gf\_c\i is Tina Fey’s “comedy wife.” So my _fg\j n\i\ _`^_% P\k# c`b\ k_fj\ fk_\i d\df`ij# ÇP\j Gc\Xj\È aljk [f\jeÊk quite live up to “Bossypants.”

And that’s fine. It would be unfair to judge every book against the best n`k_`e `kj ^\ei\% P\k# \m\e fe `kj fne# ÇP\j Gc\Xj\È `j X _Xi[ Yffb kf describe, let alone judge. It is sometimes laugh-out-loud funny; it is sometimes sad or poignant or just gcX`e jkiXe^\% Gf\_c\i ni`k\j XYflk how robots are going to kill everyone and the many alternative names for Leslie Knope, but she also writes about orphanages in Haiti, drunk driving and rape, and she makes an over-long apology to a disabled girl

she once inadvertently insulted. She also includes several sections that I can’t quite classify, such as one about her drug use and one about her physical appearance that gets a little too real. ÇP\j Gc\Xj\È `j `ek\i\jk`e^ Y\ZXlj\ it does so many things. It starts with a chapter about how much Gf\_c\i _Xk\[ ni`k`e^ k_\ Yffb# and how she’d never do it again. It k_\e [\jZi`Y\j Gf\_c\iÊj Z_`c[_ff[% She grew up “lower-middle class” in Boston, the daughter of teachers. Over the course of the book, the i\X[\i c\Xiej k_Xk Gf\_c\i [\m\coped a love of performance on school stages (funny chapter), that she had a good friend whose mother died of cancer (sad chapter), and that she started drinking alcohol at a young age (weird chapter). We follow her through the Chicago improv comedy scene (funny chapter), onto stage at the Upright Citizens Brigade (nostalgic chapter), into the cast at SNL (one funny chapter, one uncomfortable one), and finally onto the small

jZi\\e n`k_ ÇGXibj Xe[ I\ZÈ ]leep chapter, mostly). =fi dXep p\Xij# Gf\_c\i ni`k\j# she was poor and struggling. She was a waitress for much of her adult life, long before she propelled herself into the wider comedy universe.

She spent many years without a steady paycheck or health insurance, though she befriended other struggling comedians, including a young Tina Fey. Her first appearance on SNL was the episode directly following 9/11, yet she remained on the show and became one of its true gems. She writes at length about her appearance alongside Fey as Hillary Clinton and then rapping (while nine months gi\^eXek Xj JXiX_ GXc`e% Jg\Xb`e^ f] pregnancy, she writes toward the end of the book about her sons, who bear the awesome names Archie and Abel.

The memoir parts are there, but most of the book consists of short autobiographical vignettes or just random things, such as a poem she wrote when she was a young child, a chapter by Seth Meyers, another

Z_leb Yp Gf\_c\iÊj dfk_\i Xe[ countless lists.

G\i_Xgj k_`j `j n_p @ gi\]\i Ç9fjjpgXekjÈ kf ÇP\j Gc\Xj\È Xe[ the other books mentioned. “Bossypants” is, first and foremost, a memoir. It tells the story of Fey’s life, basically from the beginning to the present. The jokes are secondary to the extraordinary story of one woman’s rise to prominence. So many of the books that have followed in its wake have put the jokes first and the memoir second. ÇP\j Gc\Xj\#È `] efk_`e^ \cj\# departs from that model. It is a hybrid, and it is an enjoyable one.

I would have liked more about Gf\_c\iÊj c`]\ Æ fi# Xk c\Xjk# X Yffb organized in a way that allowed her life story to make more sense. Nonek_\c\jj# ÇP\j Gc\Xj\È `j _`cXi`flj Xe[ touching and pretty short and totally worth the read.

Contact SCOTT STERN at scott.stern@yale.edu .

//CAROLINE TISDALE

MOND AY A8EL8IP

19

OPEN MIC AND POETRY SLAM Peabody Museum // 11 a.m.

1) Visit your local natural history museum and 2) listen to powerful words about justice and injustice.

Killer combo.

WKND RECOMMENDS: MCDB 290, Microbiology. Total gut.

YALE DAILY NEWS · FRIDAY, JANUARY 16, 2015 · yaledailynews.com

PAGE B11

WEEKEND THEATER

50:13 THINKS INSIDE THE BOX // BY JACOB POTASH Wednesday afternoon, in seminar, I read the first page of Walt Whitman’s “Song of Myself.”

The “atmosphere,” Whitman proclaims in the poem, is “for my mouth forever… I am in love with it.” The “smoke of my own breath,” he says, is “my respiration and inspiration.”

Those lines — an expansive embrace of the world, transcending the body — entered my mind on Wednesday night, as Leland Fowler (DRA ‘15) stood on a bed frame, slowly tightening a noose around his neck, and said: “Couldn’t see nothing but my breath, hanging there in front of me, my last breath.” His character is a man who, rather than being in love with the atmosphere, is in bitter and perpetual battle with it.

A sense of being trapped in one’s own body — that is the predicament articulated so well in Yale Cabaret’s startling one-man play “50:13,” written by Jiréh Breon Holder (DRA ‘16) and directed by Jonathan Majors (DRA ‘16). The audience is seated so as to surround a prison cell which has been placed in the middle of the Cabaret’s small venue, and its members are forced into the uncomfortable position of watching Fowler through bars, illumination coming from two harsh, white lights.

Dramatic tension is built into the set: how will the audience penetrate the cell? How will Fowler’s character, Dae Brown, escape it?

At the play’s start, Brown has three days left in prison, and he yearns to be reunited with his girlfriend and infant child.

A young adolescent boy occupies the cell adjacent to his, and Brown, having grown fond of him, feels urgently impelled to teach the boy all he knows of

black manhood before his sentence is up. Over the course of the three days, Brown transforms occasionally into his father and his grandfather, immediately and impressively switching into new accents and body languages — in short, as one would hope an actor could, becoming a new person.

The boy in the next cell over is not actually portrayed: Brown addresses him by looking into a camcorder outside the cell which broadcasts to four television screens on the cell’s sides.

So when Brown tells the boy, “You gotta know when to sit still, do your time, and survive,” he is looking into the eyes of every audience member — each of whom is put in the place of the young black man and therefore becomes Brown’s pupil.

Brown’s body is caged, but throughout the 50-minute production, his spirit escapes the cell’s confines through feats of memory, music, love and humor.

When he reads aloud a letter from his beloved, he is suddenly in her bed again. When he slips into the role of his sharecropping grandfather, he is transported to Fulton County, Georgia.

Most remarkably, toward the play’s end, Brown breaks out into an a cappella reworking of Tupac Shakur’s “Hail Mary.” He starts off sitting sullenly on the edge of his bed, but soon a bounce enters his step and musical backing begins to play. “Come with me, Hail Mary,” he sings, drawing out “Mary” across four notes. Fowler possesses a superb voice, and the performance is achingly beautiful. Why does he sing? How does the song fit into the plot? I don’t know, but I’m sure that’s the point. His joy is beautiful because it is unexpected.

The show’s central sequence

// YALE CABARET

is surely the telling of the lynching story: the grandfather’s firmness in defending his little girls from bullying, the ensuing showdown between the families, the horrifying explosion of violence and the final noose-tightening speech. “I was a man,” he says defiantly. “They saw me be

a man.”

One is left to hope that being a man, and being a father, will entail a very different life for Dae Brown than for his grandfather and for his father, who, we learn, first met Dae in a prison cafeteria.

His girlfriend’s letter says that Brown’s son is on the verge

of taking his first steps, and so when Brown leaves prison, he is eager to witness the milestone, invigorated by the thought of his family’s bright future. But like “Hail Mary,” with its melancholic undertone, Brown’s optimism is tempered — by having to abandon the boy in the neighboring

cell and by his violent cultural memory.

Brown reaches the show’s end, then, hopeful but humbled. I’m sure playgoers will feel the same way.

Contact JACOB POTASH at jacob.potash@yale.edu .

Forever Entrapped // BY STEPHANIE ROGERS

I came into this world by way of a C-section. Like me, Dael Orlandersmith entered this world by leaving a scar on her mother’s abdomen. But when she departed from the stage on Wednesday, she made a different scar on the hearts of the audience members present.

“Forever,” a one-woman play at the Long Wharf Theatre, is a memoir of Orlandersmith’s life, which tries to explain the origins of her creative passions.

Despite her undying love for Jim Morrison, Richard Wright and French culture, Orlandersmith’s true inspiration comes not from iconic legends of music and literature but from her mother.

However, this inspiration is not spawned from the warmth and encouragement of a nurturing caregiver. Instead, her mother’s pitiful drunkenness and abusive nature fuel Orlandersmith’s escape. More than anything, she longs to escape from her roots and reject the possibility that she could become the same hysterical woman. Thus, she immerses herself in art, theater and writing as the way to heal herself and become an independent person.

In this incredible piece of acting, Orlandersmith creates vivid images and scenes all alone. When her eyes look

off into the distance searching the face of another character, I wanted to look over my shoulder. In another flash, Orlandersmith sits in the darkness, with only a single spotlight, retelling the horror of her childhood rape. Her words washed over us, laden with emotion, full of beauty in the midst of ugliness.

As an audience, we sat in shock, unable to prevent the act which seemed to be occurring again right before our eyes. We lived through her nightmare with her but could only sit in silence, hyper-aware of our own inadequacy to empathize as mere observers.

Set with merely a table chair and minimal props like books and records, the design is simple, but pure and honest. Surrounding Orlandersmith’s world are real photos from her past, constant reminders to the audience that we cannot escape from the weight of things that cannot be taken back.

In the climax of the show, the play reveals itself as more than memoir. During her mother’s convalescence, Orlandersmith admits her intention to leave her. And after her mother’s unexpected death, Orlandersmith at first rejoices in the final separation. Then, shrieking

through her grief, she pours out her repressed trauma to the dead body. At this pivotal moment, I could feel the audience turn inward with the shame of identifying with her turmoil. I realized that Orlandersmith’s piece was not only one of self-reflection but a mirror for the spectator to view himself.

Instantly, we all shared the scars inflicted by our parents and feared the power we have to inflict similar, inevitable pain onto our own children. Orlandersmith seeks an escape so desperately that she metaphorically slashes her way out of her mother’s life just as we all do when entering the world. Cringing in discomfort, we recognize the richly deserved escape but the dangers of unforgiveness.

Although her love for art may stem from an abusive, self-centered mother, Orlandersmith’s love also delivers her to the moment in this play for a chance at reconciliation. In “Forever,” we too must come to grips with this tragic truth: that a rooted history and identity can never be forgotten or erased, that they live on, as indelible as the scar of a C-section.

Contact STEPHANIE ROGERS at stephanie.rogers@yale.edu .

// CRAIG SCHWARTZ

MOND AY JANUARY

19

THE WHIFFENPOOFS Mory’s // 6:15 p.m.

Say “Whiffenpoof” three times in a dark, empty room and meet the little-known, satanic 15th Whiffenpoof.

WKND RECOMMENDS: A course with a professor.

PAGE B12

YALE DAILY NEWS · FRIDAY, JANUARY 16, 2015 · yaledailynews.com

WEEKEND BACKSTAGE

FORESTRY, FILM AND FOOD: IAN CHENEY // BY CORYNA OGUNSEITAN

W

KND sat down with Ian Cheney ’02 FES ’03, a freelance documentary filmmaker. Cheney has made seven films since 2007, for which he and co-producer Curt Ellis became the youngest recipients of the Heinz Award. His latest film, “The Search for General Tso,” opened in major cities, including New Haven, earlier this month and explores the food, culture and family histories of Chinese restaurants across America. He talked to WKND about his passion for journalistic filmmaking, storytelling and good Chinese food.

wasn’t until after I graduated forestry school that I starting making film.

A: Just after grad school my best friend and I were on our way to Iowa to shoot “King Corn” [his first film]. We stopped at a Chinese restaurant in a small town — middle of nowhere America — in the middle of the night and ordered General Tso’s chicken. It made us wonder, who is General Tso, and why does he have chicken everywhere in America? That’s something we wanted to chase. The idea simmered on the back burner for a few years, and then we teamed up with Jennifer 8. Lee, a nonfiction writer, who has a chapter in her latest book about General Tso.

Q: Do you have a mission as a filmmaker?

Q: What’s your favorite thing about making film?

A: Probably my favorite thing about documentary filmmaking is meeting remarkable, smart people in interesting places. Every film is an adventure in its own right. On a film like The Search for General Tso, we wandered into Chinese restaurants all across America and were welcomed into people’s back kitchens to hear their stories about how they came to America, or how they got into the restaurant industry. Even though putting a camera in front of someone’s face changes the interaction, the filmmaking process challenges people to value their own stories. You knock on someone’s door saying, “I want to share your story with the world,” and they take a certain pride in their own life and adventures.

Q: Right, people tend to act differently when they know they’re being filmed. How do you deal with that difficulty?

A: The question is, do you acknowledge that, or keep the camera around long enough that people forget that it’s there? Documentary filmmakers take lots of different approaches to the “truth” question. In some cases it has made sense for me to be in films, to be the narrator, but in others, fortunately, I was not present. I was in the Viola Question at Yale, which was a lot of fun, and prepared me for acting. One of the guys in the group, Jeff Miller, was the editor of “King Corn.”

Q: What’s the most challenging thing about making film?

A: Fundraising is always a challenge, but that’s a boring answer. With this film one of the challenges was balancing the whimsical premise of the film with the stories of immigration, assimilation and repression that were very much a part of the Chinese-American experiences. We heard stories relating to the 1882 Assimilation Act, countless episodes of discrimination that Chinese-Americans have faced in coming to America.

Q: What was your first experience with filmmaking?

A: I did a lot of photography at Yale. I got one of those art grants from the residential colleges that allowed me to buy rolls of film, and I would ride around New Haven at night on my bicycle and take pictures of the stars. It

A: I’d be reluctant to say that I have one core agenda that permeates all of our projects. I do try to make films that are entertaining enough that people will want to watch them, educational enough that people gain something from them and beautiful enough that people enjoy sitting in the theater. But the goals change with every film, and the story you want to tell shifts with every film. Each film is a three-year adventure into entirely new territory, and that certainly presents a lot of challenges because there’s a steep learning curve. I always have to learn new material and call upon knowledge from college classes I never thought I would need. But also, each adventure is incredibly rewarding because you meet people who become your lifelong friends or collaborators. We wanted to make “King Corn” because we wanted to tell the story of America’s broken food system; that’s an agenda. But in making that film, our sense of how to tell that story changed dramatically. I didn’t know anything about Chinese-American history when I started making General Tso, then in the process of making and researching, it became clear that we had an opportunity and a responsibility to tell a larger story than one just about chicken.

Q: What topics are most interesting to you?

A: I’ve spent much of the last decade working on films and projects related to food and agriculture, and their effect on their environment. Food is inherently a very interdisciplinary subject — it can get you into politics, chemistry, history, etc. I’ve also had a lifelong interest in the planetary sciences. I’m halfway through a journalism fellowship at MIT, so I’m spending the year auditing classes there and at Harvard, and talking to scientists about their work. I think that’s really crucial for understanding contemporary global issues like climate change.

Q: Do you have any advice for people who want to make film?

A: I did not specifically train in college and graduate school to be a filmmaker, but I do find that in documentary film I call upon all sorts of things I learned throughout college.

Documentary filmmaking is a big umbrella, and if you’re prepared to put some long hours into grant writing and fundraising and being broke for a while it’s a really rewarding way to explore your interests. In many ways, it means inventing a job for yourself. It’s a path we’ve had to clear.

Q: Do you consider yourself to be an artist? An activist? A journalist?

A: I would say documentary film is a combination of activism, art and journalism. I got into journalism because of my interest in the topics I wanted to

explore, and I had a desire to make some form of art. The combination of art, activism, advocacy, storytelling and journalism makes documentary filmmaking a good job for me.

Q: Thoughts on Yale?

A: I think that Yale was supportive of my interdisciplinary interests. I majored in EP&E and was able to take a lot of classes at the School of Forestry & Environmental Studies. I didn’t feel like there was a prescribed program that was perfect for me, but Yale gave me the space to invent it for myself. That’s been a really helpful foundation moving forwards with my career. I continue to collaborate with many of the people I met in college — one of my old roommates does the sound tracks for all of our films.

I know this is corny, but the people I got to meet were really what college was about.

Q: Was there another career you thought you’d pursue before filmmaking?

A: [Laughing] You’d imagine that I was thinking about having some sort of job, but for the life of me I can’t remember what I wanted!

I just thought I would figure it out and that I would make it one way or another. I’m still paying off my college loans, but I do think I’ve figured out how to balance my outlandish interests by making films that get funded and get produced.

Q: So, do you feel like you’ve “made it” as a filmmaker?

A: Whenever a documentary filmmaker tells you that they’ve made it, you should be skeptical. I do feel like I’ve been really lucky in being able to make a number of the films that I’ve dreamed up. None of the films have brought huge financial reward, but they have brought opportunities for me as a person, and I consider that success.

But that’s definitely a struggle and a process, and I’m still trying to make that work.

Contact CORYNA OGUNSEITAN at coryna.ogunseitan@ yale.edu .

“

THE FILM MAKING PROCESS CHALLENGES PEOPLE TO VALUE THEIR OWN STORIES.

“

Q: Why did you choose to make a film about Chinese food?