WEEKEND

WEEKEND // FRIDAY, APRIL 22, 2016

CHINA-RAISED, YALE-EDUCATED Qi Xu and Monica Wang delve into the changing demographics of Yale’s Chinese students. //Page B3

DESSERTS

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DONALD

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DANCERS

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HOW TO MAKE A MACARON

RALLYING IN HARTFORD

AERIALS & ARABESQUES

A meditation on dessert-baking to cope with high school stress.

Michelle Liu meets some Connecticutian Trump fans as the primary approaches.

Veena McCoole reviews Yaledancers’ spring show.

// ZISHI LI

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YALE DAILY NEWS · FRIDAY, APRIL 22, 2016 · yaledailynews.com

WEEKEND VIEWS

A MEAT PANCAKE ZHAO

// BY ALICE ZHAO My mother likes to send me pictures of food.

Afternoon, evening and late at night, I’ll check my phone and there’ll be another text or three from her. Sometimes, it’s just a dish she’s ordered at a restaurant — Korean cold noodles, chicken tamales, a fried onion artfully peeled into a flower — but usually it’s her home cooking. Stir-fried green peppers with pork. Soy sauce beef with Napa cabbage. Fried rice with leeks and Chinese sausage.

Of course, these are the ones I can describe in English. The truth is, there are many other dishes she sends me whose names are untranslatable. Just the other day, my friend looked over my shoulder and pointed at one of the photographs my mother sent me, a platter of rou bing right from the pan, cut into neat quarters, the dough brown and flaky.

“What’s that?” he asked.

I paused for a long time.

“It’s — well, it’s like a meat pancake,” I finally settled. “I mean — never mind.”

A meat pancake.

I think back on it now, and it’s laughable, how stupid, how insufficient, how not rou bing those words are. Yet, the funny thing is, there’s this instinct nagging at me even now, this urge to amend, to revise: it’s more like a calzone, really, the crust on the outside, the stuffing on the inside — no, this too is completely wrong. These comparisons are completely wrong. I don’t know how to say it, what a rou bing is in English, but —

I want you to understand.

I want you to understand that when my mother sent me that picture, I thought about narrow alleyways in Beijing, crowded little shops that fit only three, four tables at best, half-naked men hunched over plates of steaming food and sweating bottles of cheap beer, the sizzle of grease and the sound of the chef slapping dough against his palm, his hands, his shirt, his face covered in white dust — the air is so hot inside, it makes everything swoon.

I want you to understand that when my mother sent me that picture, I thought about my grandparents’ old apartment, fifth story, just a living room, bedroom and kitchen.

I’m sitting in a foldable chair and kicking my legs back and forth, I’m 9 or 10 or 12, and the fan is on and blowing hair into my eyes, my grandmother is mixing the filling for the rou bing with chopsticks, the ground meat and the scallions, she pours in soy sauce and scatters in wei jing, her hands are deft and quick and capable — this is her original recipe, after all.

Also, I want you to understand this last image: college-aged now, drumming my fingers against the kitchen countertop, waiting, I watch my mother sprinkle dough on her cutting board, the ingredients for the next batch already lined up in front of her in small bowls, ginger, jiu cai, pork, she turns around and lifts the lid from the pan, steam rises up, there’s the pop of oil and a smell rich and salty, she takes her spatula and lifts the rou bing up, slides it onto a plate. Then, there’s the lifting

of a knife, the crunch of crust giving way to metal, metal scraping against ceramic, and she offers one to me. It tastes like home.

These unsolicited photographs are more than just text messages and pixels and space on my iPhone.

These feelings and memories that well up are sentimental, sentimental sometimes to the point of pain.

It’s past midnight, and I find myself scrolling through them, staring at them, imagining the taste of all of these foods upon my tongue, salty or sweet or savory or light or just — good.

I complain to her, once in a while.

“Why are you doing this to me?”

I’ll say in Mandarin, only half-joking. “Don’t you know how hungry I get?”

“You can eat them when you come home,” she says.

I’m starting to think, then, that my mother has ulterior motives in sending me all of these pictures. It’s a bit conspiratorial, but maybe it’s a not-so-subtle reminder, something along the lines of: You’re growing up, and you have vegan chicken now in the dining halls, and you can eat so many things now that I don’t know how to make, like that one time you went out and you had lobster bisque and seafood paella and caramel flan — but remember this: Rou bing, passed down. You were 5 and 11 and 16 and now almost 20, but remember? It still tastes the same, so come home.

// ALLISON CHEUNG

Contact ALICE ZHAO at alice.zhao@yale.edu .

Oven-struck

BLAU

// BY JESSICA BLAU

My junior year at boarding school, I took up making French macarons in a dorm kitchen used by 40 other girls. Macarons were wholly impractical: the pastel-colored cookies were too difficult to consume before they went stale, too demanding of time and attention, too tiny, too sweet, too finicky. The ingredients had to be folded into each other just so, or else the batter would be too sticky or too wet and they wouldn’t set how they were supposed to. The batter had to be piped uniformly onto cookie sheets and then had to rest for long enough that the cookies would keep their form once baked, but not so long that they’d become too heavy. The oven couldn’t be too hot, or else the tops would blister and crack, but it couldn’t be too cool, either, or they wouldn’t develop a hardenough shell. They seemed to have minds of their own, and even when I got everything perfect, they were so delicate that there was always a chance I’d hold one with a little too much pressure and the shell would collapse, leaving behind a conspicuous crater. *** Macarons were difficult, but I was difficult, too. I had learned to bake the summer before I went away to boarding school.

My mother had a new husband, a new baby and a new life that I didn’t quite fit into. I started having trouble sleeping and took to baking in the hours after midnight. I learned to make layer cakes and banana cream pies and chocolate puddings, all by myself in the dead of the night with my mother and my stepfather sleeping 15 feet

above my head. In the morning, my mother would come down and stare confusedly at the sweets that had appeared overnight. Once, she complained that I used all the half-andhalf she used in her coffee. I shrugged and apologized — but what else did she expect me to do when I needed heavy cream, and half-and-half was the closest I could get at 1 a.m.? *** I was used to making things work, and so when problems arose in my dorm kitchen, I was ready. I was unable to find almond meal at the Target in the nearby mall so I made my own by crushing almonds slivers with the edge of a sauce jar until they were no more than powder.

I had no mixer so I whisked egg whites by hand, my wrists making tiny circles over and over again until the whites formed firm peaks. I had no sieve, no counter space, no perfectly calibrated oven. I used a spaghetti strainer to sift out too-large clumps of powdered sugar. I left trays of unbaked macarons, skins still setting, on pantry shelves, on kitchen chairs, on top of the refrigerator. I fiddled incessantly with the oven’s temperature gauge. I persisted.

The girls on my floor understood my obsession, but only in the way a child understands what it means to be an adult, which is to say: not completely, not really at all. Still, they would sit with me in the dorm kitchen, stooped over their study guides, half-reading, half-talking. Sometimes, they would sit on the floor when there were no available chairs, their backs against a wall and their books propped up on

their knees. Elya would laugh and take pictures of me with flour in my hair and all over my jeans. Nunu would bring music, playing rap songs or alternative hits that I’d never heard of before. And Kirby would sometimes join me, making her own macarons with a grace and ease so unlike my frenzied fervor.

Always, they would stay as long as they could, but always, they would eventually leave to do more important things.

I had chosen macarons mostly because I had heard how hard they were to make properly. I was 16 and positive that I was an excellent baker. But mostly, I was 16 and panicked.

At home, I was surrounded by my parents’ unvoiced pressure to keep my grades up, to make smart choices, to figure out my life. At school, I was surrounded by people who were stressing out over SATs, who were making their college lists, who were planning their futures. I should have been doing the same, but

***

bean salad with whatever herbs I have lying around. I leave my lemon bars in the oven for 10 minutes too long. When a recipe calls for minced garlic, I use the stuff in the jar. I cook for only as long as I have to. I freeze leftovers. I buy paper towels. I think of practical ways to use my time — updating my calendar, getting a head start on next week’s reading, hanging up the clothes piled on my chair. I grow up. I do not panic.

Still, as my best friend complains about applying to medical school and the girls I live with talk about the upcoming summer and the coffee shops around me start to fill with pairs on informal interviews, I start to imagine thinly iced layer cakes, lemon bars that haven’t been overcooked and macarons with round, glossy tops.

Now, I roast vegetables. I use a slow cooker and make white

Contact JESSICA BLAU at jessica.blau@yale.edu .

I was oven-struck, hyperfocused on baking to keep the future at bay, just like that first time, when I was newly 14 and couldn’t sleep for fear that if I did, I would miss something in those last three months before I left home for school — the sound of my new baby brother crying, the glow of the sun coming in through the window on the stairwell, my mother telling me good morning, just the two of us in the kitchen, before the baby woke up or her new husband came downstairs. In that moment, all I wanted was to show those stupid, candy-colored cookies that I was in charge, that they would be delicious, that I wouldn’t give up, not until they were perfect.

// BEN KAPLAN

FRIDAY APRIL

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STORIES WITHOUT BORDERS Cross Campus // 11 a.m.

Match a refugee’s narrative to a place on a borderless map to see how well *you* navigate a world without defined nations.

WKND RECOMMENDS: Kissing on the roof of Harkness.

YALE DAILY NEWS · FRIDAY, APRIL 22, 2016 · yaledailynews.com

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WEEKEND CHINA

AFTER

G N I W G

N YU n the fall of 1850, the wideeyed, 22-year-old Yung Wing, class of 1854, arrived at Yale, prepared to embark on his u n d e rg ra d u a te journey at a campus populated by white Protestant males. Born into a poverty-stricken family in southern China, Yung had dropped out of school at age 12 to support his mother and four siblings. Pure coincidence led Yung to America, but a heavy financial burden weighed on the young Chinese Christian. He turned down a full ride offered to him by missionaries, which would have required him to return to China and serve as a missionary himself upon graduation.

“A pledge of that character would prevent me from taking advantage of any circumstance or event that might arise in the life of a nation like China, to do her a great service,” Yung recalled in “My College Days,” the fifth chapter of his autobiography, “My Life in China and America.” “To be sure, I was poor, but I would not allow my poverty to gain the upper hand and compel me to barter away my inward

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FRIDAY APRIL

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convictions of duty for a temporary mess of pottage.”

Overwhelmed with financial and academic pressure, Yung had to “sweat over” studies until midnight every night during his freshman year, which caused his health to deteriorate and eventually led to a one-week leave of absence.

Contemporary stereotypes tend to portray Chinese students as better in math, but Yung showed “utter aversion” to the subject, especially differential and integral calculus, which he “abhorred and detested.” In fact, Yung performed so poorly in math that he feared Yale would dismiss him. Much to Yung’s relief, his talent in English earned him several top prizes in composition and membership in Brothers in Unity, one of the two campus debating societies. He also pledged and joined the Delta Kappa Epsilon fraternity.

Yung graduated with a Bachelor of Arts from Yale in 1854, making him the first Chinese student to receive a degree from an American college. He later organized the Chinese Educational Mission with the Qing government and devoted his life to bringing more Chinese internationals to American classrooms and lecture halls.

While both Yale and China have undergone rapid changes since

G& A WAN C I N O M

//

Yu n g was an undergraduate, his legacy is carried on by generations of Chinese internationals who have crossed the Pacific and stepped onto Yale’s campus ever since. How has the demographic changed over past decades? How are Chinese Yalies today similar to — or different from — those who came before them?

THE GOLDEN GENERATION?

Chinese international students in the United States are no strangers to media scrutiny, especially over the past few years, as China’s increasing wealth makes studying abroad a viable option among many middle-income Chinese households. But with greater visibility comes greater controversy.

A March 2016 article in The Wall Street Journal, titled “Heavy Recruitment of Chinese Students Sows Discord on U.S. Campuses,” discussed the struggles of “made-in-China” students experiencing cultural and language gaps. According to a 2015 report by the Institute of International Education, Chinese students accounted for 31.2 percent of all international students in the United States.

The makeup of Chinese international students has shifted not only in number, but also in wealth. A New Yorker article titled “The Golden Generation”

YALE INTERCULTURAL COLLOQUIUM

went viral in February, detailing the extravagant lives led by Chinese students who are sent to America by their uber-rich parents.

The wealthy second generation — children of the Chinese “nouveau riche” — is referred to as “fuerdai” in Chinese and has been a sore point among the Chinese public. The word carries a negative connotation, implying mindless consumption and eliciting resentment toward the wealthy few. While the phenomenon was initially restricted to China, it began to spread to American campuses as “fuerdai” students headed to the West for college.

In a December 2015 op-ed in the Columbia Daily Spectator, Columbia undergraduate Jasmine Bernstein Yin described her experience with the changing image of Chinese students in America. The controversial article opened with a statement that discussed many Americans’ impression of Chinese in the country, and explained how, despite their glamorous appearance, the “Chinese elite” feel lonely deep inside.

“Our boarding-school backgrounds, our posh accents, our stylish outfits — in my experience, American students are often astonished by us Chinese internationals,” the column began.

Enclave, extravagance, exclusion — do these perceptions apply to the small group of Chinese internationals at Yale too? Perspectives from current students

a n d alumni of Yale’s Chinese community suggest a more diverse story.

DIVERSITY WITHIN DIVERSITY

The Chinese Undergraduate Students at Yale is a student organization that serves as a home away from home for many Chinese students on campus. It provides a space for meeting other Chinese undergraduates, socializing and making friends who share the same cultural background.

“CUSY remains a very central community for Chinese students just because of how much we share in common,” said Scarlett Zuo ’16, a history major from Beijing who was the former vice president of CUSY. “For me, CUSY is special because even though I have friends from the United States and other parts of the world, they won’t necessarily understand all the things I feel as a Chinese. CUSY [members] are the only people who are potentially capable of fully understanding who I am.”

The small size of the Chinese student population on campus makes CUSY a tight-knit community. According to 2015–16 CUSY President Andi Wang ’17, a staff reporter for the News, the organization has around 60 total members every year, with roughly 15 Chinese students in each class.

Yale has admitted 16 Chinese students to the class of 2020, according to a list of students SEE CHINA PAGE B8

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Asian American Cultural Center // 2 p.m.

Ethnic Studies scholars will present their work at this first annual event. Academia meets activism.

QI XU

Rock climbing up East Rock.

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YALE DAILY NEWS · FRIDAY, APRIL 22, 2016 · yaledailynews.com

WEEKEND THE

DONALD

MAKE HARTFORD GREAT AGAIN // BY MICHELLE LIU

Last Friday afternoon I stopped briefly on Cross Campus at a table set up by Yale Students for Bernie, who refused to speak to me on the record but did urge me to register to vote. I demurred. Three hours later I found myself one of 7,000 at a Donald Trump rally.

“It was weird but boring,” I later told friends, who asked: “But was it different from normal political rallies?” Having never attended any others, I didn’t know. (As the graduate of a large public high school in Texas, I have been to pep rallies, which feature better music and younger audiences.)

This rally, held at the Connecticut Convention Center in downtown Hartford, was Trump’s first appearance as a candidate in the state. Since his first, fiery stump speech, his team has planned two more stops in advance of next Tuesday’s primary — he’s slated to appear in Waterbury and Bridgeport Saturday, if you’re interested.

If you go, my suitemate might also prepare you with physical safety tips.

When I told her about my plans to attend the rally, she informed me to avoid bone-to-bone contact should I end up in a physical altercation.

“Bone to soft spot,” she instructed, meaning I should hit a groin with my knee, but not punch someone in the nose with a closed fist. As it turns out, the penned-off area for the press limits the likelihood of such possibilities.

But I’m getting ahead of myself.

That Friday afternoon, another News reporter and I found our reserved Zipcar outside of Payne Whitney Gym, dutifully beeping as I repeatedly hit the horn button on my Zipcar app.

We arrived three hours early. The sun was still out, and tables ringed the front of the convention center, arrayed with Trump gear. (You know: “Make America Great Again” hats, “Make America Great Again” sweatshirts, “Make America Great Again” toe socks.) A handful of protesters holding signs demeaning the size of Trump’s hands and ones with slogans such as “Hate won’t make us great!!” faced the vendors.

I approached one of the protestors. The reporter accompanying me veered off.

Hamden resident Michael Alborino told me he was here to demonstrate the existence of an opposition group to Trump and “all this hate.” Alborino cited fear as the other driving emotion in the situation — first-time voters and

people who don’t know a lot about the political process are especially afraid of the current political climate, he said.

“People are afraid of what’s going on right now,” he told me. “They want something different. I can’t blame them for wanting something different. But somebody who’s never held office?!” *** Closer to the entrance, we found August Wolf — described on his website as “a father of four, Olympian, business leader and Republican candidate for U.S. Senate” — soliciting rally attendees, accompanied by his press secretary (a former Ben Carson ’73 campaign hire) and campaign manager. Wolf, who is seeking the Republican nomination for current Connecticut Sen. Richard Blumenthal’s LAW ’73 seat, towered over me as I asked him about his presence at the rally.

“The country has changed a fair bit,” he told me. “Our party, the Republican Party, isn’t dealing with that in the right way in including people. They did a terrible job including folks like you [young people] in dialogue and thinking about marketbased solutions to issues,” he said.

Wolf considers Trump a “genius,” he said, although he wouldn’t tell me who he was voting for in the primary.

The former Olympian shot putter is taking some tips from Trump in his Senate run.

“First and foremost, my opponent, Dick Blumenthal — I’m referring to as Lyin’ Little Dick. Okay?” Wolf said. “That’s a very apt description of him. Not because he’s physically little, which he is, but because he plays small ball. He doesn’t play in the Big Leagues.”

Inside the convention center, a crowd fringed around the stage area.

People also lined the walls, charging their phones, or so I assumed until I approached and found that most of them were simply weary and waiting, using the wall as a spot to lean on.

“All you young kids with those Apples,” said Bobbie Padegimas, gesturing toward my phone. “Let’s force Apple to make those iPhones in America.”

Padegimas, leaning against the convention center wall, told me she was a nurse living in Windsor Locks (and that she refuses to own an iPhone until it is made in the United States). This wasn’t

her first rodeo — she had attended another Trump event in Massachusetts. She likes Trump because he’s a “non-politician” who is all business, she said. Padegimas and the woman next to her began to vigorously discuss the need for manufacturing jobs in the United States.

“He can bring jobs back here even for the immigrants!” exclaimed Sonia Burns, the woman next to Padegimas.

“I think Donald Trump represents the American dream,” Padegimas added. “I think America is one of the few places that, given the opportunity, you can go places. ‘The Voice,’ ‘American Idol’ — things like that are representative of what can happen to you, being in the right place in the right time in America. I don’t know if any other country offers you that.”

I inquired about their feelings on Trump’s daughter, Ivanka.

“Oh my god, I think she is amazing!” Padegimas said.

“What impresses me about her?”

Burns pondered. “She had a baby and she had the hospital clothes everybody wears.”

“She didn’t close off a wing of a hospital like Beyoncé and her baby,” Padegimas agreed.

“Or the Kardashians. And the baby was wrapped in the same blankets that every baby is wrapped in,” Burns concluded. “There was no difference.”

“As a matter of fact, his children are far more well-spoken than he is,” Padegimas said, turning to me. “He is not polished. That’s one of the things I like about him.” *** I drifted around the convention center, holding my press badge against my notebook in case someone wanted to herd me back into the press pen, where the legitimates (think CNN, The New York Times) had cameras and laptops out. I found a handful of 20-somethings who said they were undecided on their candidate of choice. One man asked if I was a Bernie supporter.

As it turns out, three hours is a lot of time to fill. I began to take note of slogans, the kind printed on generic Hanes cotton T-shirts. Also the kind 14-year-old boys at my high school would have probably been into but would have gotten reprimanded for wearing. “HILLARY SUCKS, BUT NOT LIKE MONICA” (next to cutouts of Hillary C l i n t o n ’s LAW ’73 and

Monica Lewinsky’s faces). “FUCK OFF WE’RE FULL” (inside a silhouette of the continental United States).

“SEX IS MY CARDIO” (???).

Earlier, Padegimas had listed everything she anticipated out of the Trump rally: “I expect the crowd to get very loud when Trump takes the stage. I think that Donald Trump’s going to come out, and he’s going to tell us he’s going to make America great again, and he’ll talk about building his wall.”

The crowd, growing anxious, intermittently chanted “build a wall” and “Donald Trump.”

When the candidate himself finally appeared, I was already in the press pen, located at the very back, alongside the designated seating for the disabled/elderly. Everyone began to take photos.

The rally checked off everything on Padegimas’ list. The crowd got loud, Trump said he’d make America great again, then he talked about solving a heroin epidemic by building a wall.

Here’s the thing: in real life, if you’re at the back of the room, a Trump rally is a subdued matter. Not that the man himself is subdued, but rather, I couldn’t help but feel that I had heard (or read) it all before.

Nonetheless, here are some things he said, just to prove that I didn’t drive out to Hartford for nothing: 1. “Trump rallies are safe.” The cops did remove a handful of protesters, who were outed/identified by nearby attendees holding up their Trump posters and chanting “Trump” to alert security.

2. “There is nothing more fun than a Trump rally.”

3. The North American Free Trade Agreement has killed Connecticut.

Connecticut needs jobs.

4. Donald Trump has lived in Connecticut, and has many friends in Connecticut.

I stepped outside after the brief half hour, into twilight. The 20 or so protesters I found outside at 4 p.m. had ballooned into hundreds, effectively stymieing the flow of ralliers out of the convention center. The two sets of crowds, facing each other, volleyed chants back and forth: “Build a wall.” “Black lives matter.” Inside the hotel attached to the convention center, wedding guests mingled. We found a handful of Yale students who told us that security had confiscated their flasks and that they were undercover for another, lesser campus publication. A man stood calmly in the middle of the crowds, vaping.

When I looked at the photos on my phone later, the distance rendered Trump a blurry,

glowing figure behind the podium, his finer features obscured by the spotlight. He could have been anyone. *** Back on campus, I started looking for Trump supporters, wondering whether they had attended the rally.

It was more difficult than I anticipated. Unlike Yale Students for Hillary, or the Sanders supporters I talked to, there is no public campus network for Trump support.

Yale’s most prominent Trump supporter, Karl Notturno ’17, who has posted frequently in defense of Trump on the Overheard at Yale Facebook group, agreed to speak with me, but never called me at our scheduled interview time.

I will call the sole talkative Trump supporter I found at Yale “W.” He agreed to speak only on the condition of anonymity, and said he often keeps his support for Trump hidden at school out of worry that it would ruin his relationships at Yale.

“The last thing I want is to stir up a conflict on campus because of a political issue,” W told me, referring to a March incident at Emory University in which chalked messages in support of Trump spurred campus protests.

W, who considers himself socially centrist and fiscally conservative, feels that Trump has been misconstrued in the media as more socially conservative than he is. W doesn’t think Trump supporters at Yale are representative of Trump supporters as a whole, though.

“I feel like a lot of Trump supporters in America are Trump supporters because they’re not informed — not a knock on Trump, he’s loudest candidate by far, definitely most covered by media,” W said. “If you’re Republican, and if you don’t know who to vote for, you’re most likely going to vote for Trump. It helps that he’s the front-runner.”

If he could tell non-Trump supporters anything, W would encourage them to be more open-minded, he tells me.

“Most Republicans and Trump supporters on campus I talk to really have no problem with people voting on the other side of the bipartisan system, and I feel like that is not a sentiment that is felt [across the aisle],” W said.

In the midst of our conversation, a friend in the room interrupted to announce that Trump had won the New York primary.

“Fuck yeah,” W said.

Contact MICHELLE LIU at michelle.liu@yale.edu .

// MICHELLE LIU

FRIDAY APRIL

22

YALE PHOTO SOCIETY EXHIBITION OF STUDENT WORK

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YALE DAILY NEWS · FRIDAY, APRIL 22, 2016 · yaledailynews.com

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WEEKEND ARTS

DOWNTRODDEN DOWN CHAPEL // BY ANDREW STAUTZ Currently on display at the Giampietro Gallery — that tiny storefront stuck between Starbucks and Panera, on the south side of Chapel Street just east of High — is “Common-Ground,” an exhibition that pairs folk art sculptures with paintings by the contemporary American artist Farrell Brickhouse. Inside, there’s not room for more than a dozen or so paintings, each of which hangs next to an anonymously produced folk art sculpture.

The exhibition’s premise seems to be that Brickhouse, a trained, New York-based “insider” artist, nonetheless has strong connections to the work of untrained, often anonymous “folk”

artists. There’s some historical truth to that assertion. Brickhouse might be considered part of the Neo-Expressionist movement that dominated the 1980s, when his career began. NeoExpressionism was defined by a reaction against the prior decade’s preoccupation with minimalist and conceptual art and included a partial return to figurative painting. However, the technical considerations of form, perspective, brushwork, line and color are subjugated to the artist’s personal narrative and emotional state. As a result, a formally trained Neo-Expressionist’s art often carries the same raw and messy look of the dabblings of an anonymous amateur.

// NGAN VU

Brickhouse’s paintings in “Common-Ground” were all completed in the past few years and demonstrate a thorough stylistic consistency. Foremost in this style is the unstinting use of paint.

Thick, textured globs of the stuff hang off each of the canvases. The dominant color palette is best described as old chewing gum. Washed-out and unsaturated pinks, greens and yellows dominate the exhibition. Brickhouse’s scenes depict acrobats, dancers and strongmen — a Depression-era world of gaudy carnivals and tawdry travelling fairs. The colors must once have been bright, but they were cheap, and empty, and have dissolved into mud and sadness. The accompanying folk art shares in this nostalgia for a home that was never any good to begin with. These “sculptures” are shooting gallery targets, a set of puppets, a sex toy and what seems to have been a weather vane. All are (perhaps needless to say) clumsy, unrefined, even deranged in the particular way dolls and clowns can be. This exhibit’s simple and unrelenting ugliness is itself disheartening.

I’m unsure if this sadness is deliberate. “Double Dutch 3” is a small canvas depicting a girl jumping rope. She is a tiny, green-dressed figure fallen, crimescene style, against a flat background of muddy pink. A whitish circle smudged out of the pink stands in for the twirling ropes. Imagine a girl in a green dress

jumping rope — the sunny day, the crisp contrast of light and shade, the vibrant colors, the depth of field, the boundless motion. Reducing that scene in paint to one plane of muddy geometric approximations indicates a darkness of vision that is at least peculiar, at most disturbing. Standing beneath this painting is a cast-iron clown, dressed in vaguely Asiatic robes, that was once a shooting gallery target: America’s own down-trodden Pierrot Lunaire.

In “The Rescue,” a blue-skinned woman wearing a red glitter leotard carries a slate-gray stickman in her arms.

What is the nature of this rescue? Has he fallen from a great height? Was he in danger of drowning? Or was the rescue more abstract: the circus dancer, with her ready eroticism, has saved the stifled bourgeois man from a lifetime of vacuous materialism with her even cheaper promises of sex and postlapsarian nostalgia? Tell me, America, why are you so sad? There never was an Eden — not for you.

Perhaps the entire emotional range elicited in “Common-Ground” is encapsulated in “Studio Sleeper II.” Against a purple-gray wall, several blurry brown paintings hang. In front, a man lies doubled over in despair on a gallery bench.

Contact ANDREW STAUTZ at andrew.stautz@yale.edu .

Small World, after all? // BY GRIFFIN BROWN The inhabitants of Gideon Broshy’s ’17 “Small Worlds” weren’t as affable as one might expect. In fact, each felt like a big fish swimming about in a big sea, generally oblivious to the activities of the others. Spatially speaking, their world wasn’t large; even though Broshy cleared out the Becton Center’s Ground Café of its typical accoutrements — tables, chairs, baristas, STEM majors — the room filled up pretty quickly. Sevenchannel audio circumscribed the space, pushing the participants every which way, while a claustrophobic video of travelers coursing through Grand Central seemed to climb up the walls of the café.

The work’s symbolic dimension, on the other hand, was enormous: Reverberations of metropolitan hustle could be heard and felt, and whatever traces of the small town, genial aesthetic that the installation’s title might have suggested were entirely eschewed. Broshy’s dancers moved with focused independence, as they each had their own things to attend to. They weren’t living in small worlds; they were small worlds moving in an expansive universe.

Gideon Broshy is a senior double majoring in music and sociology, and “Small Worlds” is his thesis in music. In my opinion, it could satisfy either concentration. Bro-

shy is interested in “microhistories,” the individual existences that simultaneously constitute and cut through the chaos of anonymity endemic to urban spaces like subway hubs and crowded blocks.

“Small Worlds” invites the viewer into these settings and urges him or her to contemplate these hidden personal existences, to recognize and push past the pitter-patter of everyday life. Broshy’s installation doesn’t make this easy, though.

The seven speakers around the perimeter of the room transmit sounds — or interpretations — of hectic urban babble: footsteps, subway cars, inarticulate voices, whooshing clothes, static scurry-

ing and futuristic musique concrète. Unsurprisingly, these are the dominant figures of the sonic environment; in trying to follow one participant throughout the room, the collective diffusion of the entire group usurps your attention. To represent the distinct existences living beneath the surface of this cacophonous social mass, Broshy sends quotidian sounds — an alarm clock, a shower turning on and so on, culminating in the intimate vibrations of any person’s nighttime routine — through directional speakers that face the ceiling. Dozens of faces pass your gaze, and you struggle to discern individual motivation

in the context of such a familiar, impersonal crowd.

As the installation progressed to its acme, Broshy’s seven-channel soundtrack started to coalesce, and the collective independence that had thus far defined the constituents slowly transformed into a dynamic, singular consciousness. All of a sudden, the audio channeled through the perimeter lost its distortion, and beautiful chords of an unremitting timbre began to fill the room. Every one of the seven speakers received a signal of a pitch-randomized saw wave; the notes changed at arbitrary moments, but they never diverged from whatever the overall

sonority was at a given time. Broshy’s movers — dancers, really — followed suit, morphing into an agglomerated blob that pushed throughout the room. Like the fragile components of each harmony, the dancers still moved at their own pace, but their individual goals were subordinated to the collective effervescence of the literal mass they composed. It was a period of sublime planetary alignment. Eventually, the worlds fell back into their discrete orbits; but for a time those bodies acted as one.

Contact GRIFFIN BROWN at griffin.brown@yale.edu .

“Can I Marry Yaledancers?” // BY VEENA MCCOOLE

Twice a year, Yalies of all sorts — from underground theater to the top of Science Hill — pack themselves into the ECA Theater on 55 Audubon St. in anticipation of some of Yale’s most accomplished dancers. The company boasts an impressive proportion of male dancers — five in a cast of 31 — perhaps the highest ratio in all of Yale’s dance groups.

These dancers exhibit a commendable diversity of style but are uniform in caliber. For example, in one dance, Brandon Rabaria ’19 holds and twirls another dancer in the air; in another, he springs off his arms and catapults over a chair.

The abundance of talent couldn’t be more obvious, but what is most remarkable is the dancers’ ability to reinvent themselves in seconds; Yaledancers has nailed the art of the backstage quick-change.

Luyi Chen ’18 extended her legs in a controlled show of flexibility before re-emerging center stage in a sultry hip-hop piece, her hair still pulled back like a classical dancer’s.

The program, featuring a total of 21 pieces, ticks all the boxes: graceful duets, adrenaline-pumping

hip-hop numbers, elegant ensembles to heart-swelling music and jaw-dropping aerial spectacles that are at once terrifying and enthralling to witness.

The opening item is electric in every sense of the word; metallic crop tops shimmer as five dancers isolate their limbs with perfect, robotic precision. Their incisive, unapologetic movements and piercing synchronization make them feasible candidates for Beyoncé’s troupe of backup dancers. The lyricless song didn’t leave the item feeling incomplete; the dancers’ presence flooded the stage and dominated the soundtrack.

Indeed, Yaledancers has a way with not only dance but also music.

They transform a song that you bop your head to on a car ride into the rhythmic backbone of truly beautiful choreography. The second item, “My All,” choreographed by Monica Tuñez ’19, is as uplifting and as inspirational as it gets. The dancers wear regular clothing, and look as if they’ve just strolled from the street to the stage to execute this heartfelt number. Music selections in general sounded fresh and free from

clichéd, overplayed tracks.

A humorous piece follows: A nostalgic duet entitled “An Almost Modern Throwback,” fueled by charisma and plenty of high-kicks, features colorful mismatched costumes. The choreographers interpret the lyrics literally in a refreshingly relaxed, carefree way. The best part? The end, when two cameras emerge and the dancers took selfies with the audience, finishing the piece in an actual flash.

Yaledancers’ shows typically incorporate too vast a range of genres, music and choreography to warrant the use of themes for their seasonal performances. But why condense such a glorious overspill of talent into a thematic category?

Each number — especially the duets and the contemporary pieces — tells a story of its own, be it a carnal chase characterized by changing roles of domination or an aching love affair whirling in polarized emotions.

Act two opens in a series of floral dresses, joyful tableaux and building music that hits right in the feels as Eliza Dach ’17, Kaylyn Williams ’17 and Sabine Decatur ’18

welcome the audience back with an elated dance, “Merry of Soul She Sailed,” set to “Outlander” by Bear McCreary. Then, illuminated by spotlight, Gracie White ’16 and Dach swing nimbly from a thin hoop hanging in midair. The entire audience is awed, and a little frightened. White survived her first aerial solo, aptly entitled “Hold Your Breath and Count to Ten,” in which she expertly threads long blue silks around her arms and torso, allowing her body to instantly fall four feet into a perfect arabesque. “Be careful!” screeched an audience member. It is impossible to maintain composure when two people are swinging their bodies through each others’ legs, or balancing precariously with nothing touching the rounded surface except their backs. Trick after trick followed until the music ended, concluding an incredible display of strength, stamina and flexibility.

Back on the ground, Kellyanna Polk ’16 demonstrates that playing tambourines with hands is overrated. In her elegant restaging of the Bolshoi Ballet’s Esmeralda Variation, Polk dons a classical tutu and

provides the show with an indispensable dose of pure, classical ballet. Somehow she manages to keep pace with the accelerating music, hitting the tambourine first with her hands, then with her feet in a high-kick, and then behind her back and on her shoulder.

Comments overheard from outside the theater after the show include “can I marry Yaledancers?”, “does my body even have a purpose?” and “I’m literally sweating that was so good.” Go see the Yaledancers Spring Show and realize for yourself why your ticket is worth considerably more than $5.

Contact VEENA MCCOOLE at

veena. mccoole@ yale.edu .

// MATTHEW LEIFHEIT

FRIDAY APRIL

22

THEATER OF THE AB“WORD” LC 102 // 8 p.m.

Go if finals have you in a state of major angst. “Tickets are $3 but the feels are priceless,” reads the website.

WKND RECOMMENDS: Reading this issue of WKND on top of the YDN building.

PARTS OF PAGE B6

WEEKEND MAD

SPEECH

YALE DAILY NEWS · FRIDAY, APRIL 22, 2016 · yaledailynews.com

LIBS

PARTS OF

// WKND

Tap Night: Welcome new taps — we’re so excited to

[transitive verb] you. Please acquire and

have you as the newest class of [noun] and

wear a [item of clothing] for tap night.

SPEECH PARTS OF SPEECH

Your Frenemy’s Summer Plans:

[noun]. For tap night, you’ll need to report

Note that initiation rituals will involve

to [location in Connecticut] by 5

copious [alcoholic beverage], [illegal sub-

p.m. Don’t be late, or the ghost of

stance] and [sex toy]. Throughout the

[slave-owning Yale found-

night you may detect latent hints of [prej-

ing father] will

Tap Night:

udice] and [prejudice]

Section Asshole Decides to Comment: descend and

— that’s completely [positive adjective]. It

// WKND

Your Frenemy’s Summer Plans:

helps make our society as [adjective] as it is! See you soon and remember: once you [verb] us, you can never

Salovey the Sage:

This may be a totally irrelevant and [obnoxious synonym

PARTS OF PARTS OF

SPEECH SPEECH // WKND // WKND

for useless] comment but I was educated at [New England prep school], so I’m confident every word that drops from my mouth is verbal [noun], and I’m going to talk for the

Salovey the Sage:

next 10 [unit of time]. When I first read this text in [ele-

Your Frenemy’s Summer Plans: Section Asshole Decides to Comment:

mentary school year] I only paid attention to the [kind

// CHAI RIN KIM

of alcohol] and the [misogynistic sex acts] in the second book. It was so childish of me, but I think it really speaks to the [literary theme] that’s palpable to any reader. Now that I’m revisiting the text again I’m really fascinated by the [obscure metrical jargon]; it shows how the author is

Salovey the Sage:

looking back towards [pre-1800 white male poet]. As Foucault famously said, [David Foster Wallace quote].

Last week, Marta and I visited [obscure city] to visit with the [plural noun], [plural noun] and [plural noun] who generously donate their [plural noun] to further Yale’s educational mission. We loved tasting the [gross

Your Frenemy’s Summer Plans: Your Frenemy’s Summer Plans: Section Asshole Decides toAsshole Comment: Section Decides to Comment:

// CHAI RIN KIM

// WKND

Tap Night:

Section Asshole Decides to Comment:

[verb].

Tap Night: Tap Night:

PAGE B7

food] our hosts offered and seeing the [tourist attraction] nearby.

But mostly we relished the opportunity to rehash the [recent Yale scandal] with those we met. We

I’m glad you asked. I’ll probably

assured everyone that Yalies would

[verb] around the city for a while before

continue to [verb], [verb] and [verb]

I start my internship at [proper noun]

throughout their college careers.

and [proper noun] in [foreign capital].

After all, your exceptional [attribute]

They’re a [finance buzzword] firm that

is what makes

does [adjective] consulting, but it’s really

Ya l e

such a [adjec-

meaningful and [adjective] work. I got

tive] place. Now

Salovey the Sage: Salovey the Sage:

hooked up with it through my dad’s [dis-

that we’re back

tant family member]; he’s on the exec-

on campus, I’ve

utive board. I’ll probably get to make a

been reflecting

few trips to [exotic locale], hopefully via

on [noun] and its

company [method of transportation].

relevance to the

When I’m done with that, I’ll head up to

Yale community. How can

my family’s [dwelling-place] in [WASP-

we continue to incorporate [noun] into

y summer hangout]. Then I’ll just have

our daily lives?

a chance to [verb] with the fam and play

[whack email sign-off], Peter Salovey

[sport] and do some [bougie exercise] by the [body of water]. It’ll be a good chance to spiritually [verb] before the beginning of school.

// CHAI RIN KIM

FRIDAY APRIL

22–4

JAZZ FESTIVAL

YUAG, Saybrook Underbrook // all day Don your fave beret & get together with some cool cats.

WKND RECOMMENDS:

FRIDAY APRIL

Vacationing in the TD courtyard.

22–4

YALE STUDENT FILM FESTIVAL

Whitney Humanities Center // All Day BYOP(opcorn).

WKND RECOMMENDS: Nude tanning on Booktrader’s patio.

PAGE B8

YALE DAILY NEWS · FRIDAY, APRIL 22, 2016 · yaledailynews.com

WEEKEND CHINA

D I V E RS I T Y O N FO R E I G N S O I L CHINA FROM PAGE B3

that the Admissions Office shared with CUSY, Wang said. Yale inevitably loses a few prospective students to other schools every year, Wang said, but the average number of 12 to 15 students per class has remained stable for the past few years.

Leah Phinney ’04, assistant director of undergraduate admissions who covers mainland China and other regions in Asia, deferred all questions to Dean of Undergraduate Admissions Jeremiah Quinlan. Quinlan did not return requests for comment as of Thursday night.

Wang, Zuo and other CUSY upperclassmen interviewed agreed that while CUSY continues to be a welcoming and cherished community among Chinese undergraduates, the increasing diversity of backgrounds and interests of each incoming class has led the younger students to seek out other communities and extracurricular pursuits.

“In the past, Yale [recruited] heavily from Beijing and Shanghai. But I think starting from our year or the year after us, Yale has recruited many more kids from other cities,” Wang said. “It has become really diverse. That kind of synchronizes with the diversity of academic interests.”

Wang added that there are now students from Shenzhen, Taiyuan, Jiujiang, Jiuquan, Shenyang and other locales in China that are not as well-known internationally as Beijing and Shanghai.

Qianyi Qin ’17 also noted the increasing geographical diversity among Chinese students at Yale.

She added that the change came after economic development in non-“top tier” cities. She maintained, moreover, that studying at Yale should not be a privilege solely for students from large cities.

A student from Shanghai herself, Qin said her knowledge of China only covers the “tip of the iceberg.” Socioeconomic structures in China differ from city to city, and having a variety of Chinese students at Yale will broaden other Yalies’ understanding of the complexity of modern China, Qin suggested.

Besides geographical diversity, academic interests among Chinese students have also expanded beyond traditionally popular subjects such as mathematics and economics. Economics remains a popular major among Chinese students, Wang said, but his class of Chinese internationals also includes art, architecture, history and science majors.

“When I first came here, CUSY was a really tight community,” said Christina Zhang ’17, former vice president of CUSY. “People would eat with each other regularly. They even had an [economics study] group — people took classes together and did homework together. From my year onward, however, people are spreading out their interests and have more friends outside [of CUSY].”

SATURDAY APRIL

23

Zhang added that CUSY is distinct from her other activities on campus. She described it as a place where Chinese students feel “comfortable” and come together to help and influence each other. For example, Zhang noted that she came to Yale as a biology major but was introduced to architecture through an upperclassman in CUSY. Zhang has since declared her major in architecture.

COUNTERING MEDIA PORTRAYALS Because of the increasing geographical and academic diversity among Chinese internationals, many interviewed said the heterogeneous community does not fit under one common banner, contrary to what mainstream media might suggest.

Amy Cheng ’19, a staff reporter for the News, said she hasn’t encountered any instances of Chinese students forming selfcontained groups at Yale. With a total of about 60 Chinese undergraduates on campus dispersed across 12 residential colleges, Yale simply does not have a community of Chinese students sizable enough for them to “form a flock.”

Haichuan Luo ’15, who transferred from Connecticut College to Yale after his sophomore year and is currently a first-year student at Duke Law School, said he was not surprised by the narrative of insularity framed in major national publications, as people generally tend to bond with those from similar backgrounds — particularly when they are in a foreign setting away from home. Indeed, Luo said, he had observed such a phenomenon at Connecticut College, but not at Yale.

Shuyu Song ’19, a staff reporter for the News, said the relatively small number of Chinese students has prevented the formation of any potential Chinese student enclaves on campus. She added that every Chinese student she knows at Yale has his or her own friend circle comprised of both Chinese and non-Chinese students.

Although Chinese students at Yale hail from a myriad of backgrounds ranging from business elites to suburban working class families, none interviewed said the profligate lifestyle led by the Chinese “fuerdai,” as depicted in national media, plays out at Yale.

Yifu Dong ’17, a student from China, said the image painted by Yin in her op-ed for the Columbia Spectator is “ridiculous” and does not apply to Chinese undergraduates at Yale.

“I don’t think the description fits anywhere,” Wang said, echoing Dong’s sentiment regarding the Spectator op-ed. “I think the author just wants to attract attention. I don’t think it’s anywhere near accurate.”

But even if such a phenomenon may not exist at Yale, Qin said she understands why it might

A DIFFERENT DRUM GALA Old Campus // 3 p.m.

Bust a move, break a leg, etc etc etc.

occur elsewhere. Away from home and from parental control, wealthy Chinese students in America have free rein over financial decisions, Qin said. However, she warned against making sweeping statements about Chinese internationals at U.S. colleges.

“Any sensible person will know that there are different Chinese students. There is no homogenous Chinese face,” Qin said.

Moreover, Qin said she does not understand why there is “such great fuss” about wealthy Chinese students in America.

They are free to do whatever they want, as long as they do not harm other people, she added.

“What makes Yale’s Chinese students different is that [Yale’s] philosophy for recruitment is different,” Dong said. “The state schools want [Chinese] money, because the Chinese students are paying full tuition. Yale doesn’t need our money, and they can be thoughtful in the selection process. The kids they take — most of them fit in really well.”

ASSIMILATING INTO AMERICAN CULTURE Zhang’s dream after graduation is to work at a nongovernmental organization that focuses on humanitarian architecture.

She hopes to travel around the world, especially to developing countries where she can make a difference with her work. Zhang said she might consider returning to China later on in life, but only after she gains an international perspective first.

For Zhang, assimilation into unfamiliar cultures comes easily as part of her own personal development.

“I think assimilation is a thing that happens naturally. Architecture is a very international field, and I don’t specifically try to stick with either Chinese or American people,” Zhang said.

“I make friends in the field I’m interested in, and the friendships happen naturally.”

Cheng said adapting to the Yale environment was not difficult because of her prior experience of living in the United States from age 10 to 12. She added that her exposure to Western culture and values at a young age familiarized her with ideas that might otherwise have sounded foreign.

Michael Gu ’17 said the nature of assimilation depends on a Chinese student’s personal preference. Some Chinese students at Yale are far more aware of their roots and of Chinese culture and history, Gu said, and for them, it is natural to feel more connected to China.

Individual friendships also matter, Gu added. While Gu has connected well with other CUSY members, he has also found meaningful friendships outside of the Chinese community, such as in his fraternity, Chi Psi. Gu, who studied in the U.S.

through an exchange program for a year in high school, said America has been part of his “transformative years.” Since coming to Yale, Gu said, he has been able learn more about not only American culture but also about China from an American perspective.

“It’s a paradox,” Gu said. “On the one hand, the experience provides you with an opportunity to assimilate. But on the other hand, it also gives you a chance to selfreflect and be more aware of your own culture.”

Wang said Chinese students in general have done “an increasingly good job” at assimilating.

Like Gu, however, he added that assimilation ultimately depends on each individual’s goal. For instance, Wang said he came to America because of the promise of a better education, and assimilating into American culture was not a top priority for him.

“I really do not go out of my way to assimilate, but the part I can appreciate, I appreciate,” Wang said, adding that he is proud of being Chinese. “I know why I’m here, and it’s not for becoming American.”

Wang said he might stay in the U.S. for graduate school after Yale, but his eventual plan is to return to China.

Zuo said she has imagined what her life would be like if she stayed in China for college. In the end, Zuo explained, Yale is an American college, and attending Yale means overcoming cultural shocks and barriers. Like Wang, Zuo is proud of her Chinese identity and plans to head back home in the future.

“I still feel very Chinese, and I don’t want to become an American. Not because I can’t adapt to the customs here — I have a lot of friends and feel happy living here, but ultimately there is another aspect of my identity that is distinctly Chinese and perhaps can only be understood by other Chinese,” Zuo said. “That’s why I feel CUSY is so precious.”

Zuo said she feels a sense of responsibility to give back to her country, its culture and its people. Still, Zuo acknowledged that not every Chinese student thinks in this mindset, and she noted that the decision to stay or return can be a difficult one.

In comparison to Yung Wing’s days at Yale, Zuo said the landscape of Chinese internationals today tells a vastly different story.

“Yung Wing’s experience is so different from ours. He was the initiating force behind the Qing government’s program [to bring Chinese students to American colleges], but it was a failure at the end, much to his dismay.

Most of those kids did not want to go back to China,” Zuo said. “It’s very different now.”

Contact MONICA WANG at monica.wang@yale.edu and QI XU at qi.xu@yale.edu .

WKND RECOMMENDS: Exploring the sculpture garden in the Vandy courtyard.

YALE DAILY NEWS · FRIDAY, APRIL 22, 2016 · yaledailynews.com

PAGE B9

WEEKEND SUSTAINABILITY

EARTH DAY,

// LAURIE WANG

ONE STORY AT A TIME // BY VICKY LIU “I’m constantly thinking of ways I can improve the environmental conditions in my community and trying to get other people interested in helping me.”

“I’m really worried that young people won’t vote in the next election because they no longer believe in the system.”

“When I went home for winter break, I was shocked at the incredibly warm weather.”

In light of critical dialogue about inclusivity last fall, and in celebration of Earth Day on April 22, the Yale Climate Stories Project has begun asking questions: What is the role of community formation in sustainability at Yale?

How can Yale foster conversations that go beyond checklist solutions to saving the planet? Taking an interdisciplinary approach to sustainability, the project invites faculty, staff and students to share anonymous “Climate Stories” online — instances when have they felt personally impacted by social, political, cultural or environmental conditions, either on or off campus.

Paige Curtis ’16, the organizer of the project, cited the class “Climate Communication for Public Policy,” taught by Paul Lussier ’82, as the inspiration behind her initiative.

“It was where my work first started,” Curtis said. “The main takeaway was that you have to connect environmental issues to personal values. Climate change is not solely an economic, scientific or social problem, it’s really a question of what people value and are willing to sacrifice in pursuit of a more stable future.”

When asked about her goals for the project, Curtis described the need for Yalies to broaden their understanding of climate by thinking about social and cultural conditions that are changing along with the environment.

She hopes that with enough submissions, the project can reframe Earth Day so that the holiday — whose celebration

SATURDAY APRIL

23

of the entire Earth seems too broad to be personal — can spur community formation and inclusive sustainability. The idea is that people will feel more emotionally connected to climate-change concerns, and thus be more inclined to take action, Curtis said.

According to the Yale Sustainability website, although green initiatives often tend toward tangible forms of change, Climate Stories serves as a reminder that sustainability still has human experiences at its core. It is easy to quantify progress in terms of stacks of recycled paper or full compost bins, but it is rare to consider shifts in community attitudes toward the environment as real change. In reality, how people think and relate to each other in their social, cultural or political environment can incentivize them to make that space sustainable for everyone involved.

Students have been responding well to this human touch.

“I really like the project’s emphasis on people and their values,” Hannah Kwak said. “I think that ultimately, people are mostly influenced by the stories they’re told, [such as] the dominant attitudes in the media, in their friend groups, et cetera, and I think the project recognizes this.”

Chris Valdes ’17 added that the project seems like an interesting way to humanize issues that students usually think of in terms of big corporations like the Yale administration, and that he looks forward to seeing how the project pans out.

Curtis announced the pilot of the Yale Climate Stories Project on March 7 during a meeting with the Sustainability Service Corps at the Office of Sustainability, which is sponsoring the initiative.

“For the most part, the Yale Office of Sustainability has excellent programs in place to reduce your impact,” Curtis said.

“What is missing from sustainability discourse in general are pathways for climatechange action that align with what people care about. This project is an opportunity to reflect on that.”

Curtis is referring to the observation that certain environmental concerns are more pressing in some communities than in others. For instance, some Yalies prioritize lowering the carbon footprint of dining

UNITY SPRING SHOW

Stiles Courtyard // 5 p.m.

Korean drum group + and free food from Oriental Pantry.

halls, whereas others would like to see more a fuel-efficient shuttle system on campus.

Jane Zhang ’19, SSC coordinator for Berkeley College, attended and enjoyed Curtis’ presentation.

“The Yale Climate Stories Project is meant to engage diverse voices in Yale College in the conversation around climate change and the environment,” she explained. “Through Paige’s presentation to the Sustainability Service Corps, I was reminded of how important it is to consider equity, justice and injustice in campus sustainability and just generally, environmental thought and work.”

Zhang emphasized that the burdens of environmental degradation disproportionately affect minority communities and communities of color. She said she is certain that sharing ideas with people who have different cultural backgrounds and experiences will result in more inclusive and sensitive ways to address environmental issues.

The project has been circulated to various Yale student groups using posters and social media over the past two weeks.

While Griffin Walsh ’19 did not hear about the project until very recently, he agreed with its objective.

“The project is extremely important in that it attempts to bring to light the reality that environmental problems like climate change not only affect every one of us, but also that these serious effects are happening right now,” he said. “There are so many major environmental problems that must be addressed, and the awareness raised by this project will hopefully spur people toward taking action to confront these environmental threats.”

Maanya Condamoor FES ’17 is a graduate affiliate of the Office of Sustainability who works with the Sustainability Service Corps to launch community-based environmental campaigns.

She affirmed, “I hope that it will encourage people to think more about all the different smaller impacts climate change will have on their lives, as opposed to thinking on a more global and long-term scale. It personalizes the issue and can help increase interest and participation in sustainability initiatives around campus, like SSC.”

Amber Garrard, the education and outreach manager at the Office of Sustainability, also expressed her support for the project.

“Sustainability recognizes that diversity is critical to ecosystem resilience, and also resilient social systems. The Climate Stories Project is an important platform to help us understand the diverse perspectives within our Yale community that will help build a strong sustainability effort on campus and beyond,” Garrard said, pointing to future institutional-level sustainability goals. “The Yale Office of Sustainability is currently developing Yale’s next Sustainability Strategic Plan for 2025.

In the draft, one of the current Ambitions is around empowerment, specifically to foster a diverse and inclusive sustainability movement.”

While the Office of Sustainability has ambitious plans for the future, it is currently engaged in multiple projects. For example, also in the week leading up to Earth Day, the office organized an Energy-Saving Intramural Challenge. Energy statistics in every residential college were compared to baseline values from the preceding week, and colleges competed to achieve the greatest percentage decrease in electricity usage. The winning college will receive a free Salsa Fresca study break.

But in the meantime, even as students partake the various tangible ways to combat climate change — such as using less tap water, carpooling and buying products made from fair labor — they are welcome to share their voices with The Yale Climate Stories Project, which is ongoing and will remain open to submissions beyond Earth Day. Those interested in sharing a Climate Story may do so at http://yaleclimatestories. tumblr.com.

Contact VICKY LIU at vicky.liu@yale.edu .

WKND RECOMMENDS: Rolling the down the Div School hill.

PAGE B10

YALE DAILY NEWS · FRIDAY, APRIL 22, 2016 · yaledailynews.com

WEEKEND COLUMNS

NO MORE THAN PICTURESQUE // BY KATIE MARTIN

Lily Bart, the protagonist of Edith Wharton’s “The House of Mirth,” is an absolute disaster.

She is manipulative, judgmental, spoiled, greedy, addicted to gambling and completely incapable of making sensible decisions. But she’s just pretty enough and charming enough to get away with it for a large portion of the novel, and to get her readers firmly on her side.

Half of the joy of reading this book comes from yelling at Lily to make better choices. Lily concocts a plan to seduce a wealthy man by convincing him she’s a devout Christian, and then skips church because she’d rather sleep in. Lily avoids her financial and social obligations by running off to the Mediterranean, and then does it again by running off to Alaska. Lily refuses to marry the man she loves because he’s too poor, but refuses to marry a wealthy man because she’s just not that into him. Her incompetence is as lovable as it is infuriating (an opinion many of her suitors come to share).

I like a strong female character as much as the next girl. I don’t like watching women be buffeted about by the winds of fate, like Lily is. I like my ladies smart and independent and sensible. But there’s something grimly enjoyable about watching an entitled hothouse flower — your Emma Bovarys, your Anna Kareninas — lean right into her objectification and impotence.

Because isn’t it enviable, just a little bit? To be constantly affirmed for your beauty, to flounce around in fancy dresses

and flutter your eyelashes at the wealthy, to manipulate and seduce and spend, spend, spend? This kind of old-timey high-femme wish-fulfillment is the flipside of Cormac McCarthy’s ultra-masculine orgies of violence, Hemingway’s sexand-shooting stoicism. And both have their modern equivalents: the smash hit “Gossip Girl” was inspired by “The House of Mirth,” and there’s an abundance of macho nonsense on television, from “True Detective” back through “Breaking Bad” and “The Sopranos.”

The dichotomy here is obvious: female wish-fulfillment is relegated to soapy teen dramas and male wish-fulfillment is critically acclaimed. But let’s not forget the other dream women get to see on the small screen, one that tends to get a lot more critical traction: the rape revenge fantasy. Some of my favorite shows lean on this trope, and I don’t want to knock them — they’ve got exactly the kind of nuanced, developed female leads that I’m looking for, and they tend to be cult favorites: “The Fall,” “Jessica Jones,” even the incredibly underrated “The Bletchley Circle.” But they all follow the same rough outline: There’s a serial rapist and murderer on the loose, and our Strong Female Lead has to put a stop to him, even in the face of her own sexism-related trauma.

Women are defined by the things men do to them, and I hate it. I hate, so viscerally, that even when women are at their best, they are forced to orbit

men, constantly reacting instead of acting.

Lily Bart isn’t at her best, not even close. She isn’t trying to tear down the patriarchy.

She doesn’t resist her objectification so much as revel in it.

She spends a not-insignificant amount of time planning ways to look picturesque, and literally describes herself as a man’s “possession.” She depends on men for everything: money, advice, self-esteem. Even her self-ideation is largely based on the opinion of one of her most ardent suitors. Sure, she eventually gets a job — if you count being the world’s worst milliner as a career path. Not only that, but she’s headed straight for Madeleine Albright’s “special place in hell for women who don’t help each other,” constantly bemoaning the “dinginess” of her devoted cousin Gerty.

What Lily is really doing is building herself an escapist fantasy world, where she gets all the benefits of her beauty and status and gender with none of the downsides, where she can be adored and objectified, where men are endless sources of wealth and praise and not the fickle, possessive nightmares that lead to her downfall. But when her fantasy world crumbles around her, Lily joins a pantheon of women, both fictional and otherwise, who aren’t allowed to shape their own realities.

Contact KATIE MARTIN at katherine.d.martin@yale.edu .

// ASHLYN OAKES

Ask Jack: Who Should I Vote for Next Tuesday? // BY JACK BARRY

DEAR JACK: I’m in a pickle. The Connecticut primaries are next week, but I still don’t know who to vote for.

One day I start to feel the Bern, but the next I remember that reality exists. Am I With Her, or with Canadian serial murderer Ted Cruz? I know he’s the Zodiac Killer, but Hillary’s lifetime of shattering the glass ceiling again and again is so unin-

spiring. This year, I could not be more confused. I’ve taken every quiz on BuzzFeed, but knowing which Disney princess caused my bisexual awakening isn’t helping at all. At this point, I’m considering voting Republican — a vote for Donald Trump would be an even bigger “fuck you” to my parents than my lower-back tattoo. How can I know whom to vote for if I still sleep in a Fish Stark ’17 campaign T-shirt?

— PUZZLED PESCATARIAN

DEAR PESKY: Making a big decision like this can be tough. For the first time in your life, your choices have consequences. Never before has the fate of the free world rested so heavily on your hunched shoulders. No decision you have ever made has resulted in any meaningful impact, despite what your college application may have claimed about the summer you spent teaching legless dogs to read. When you cast your ballot next Tuesday, you will have ripped open the

metaphorical hymen of civic duty and showered in the redhot ooze of patriotism.

Selecting a candidate to support is never easy, but these questions ought to help you make a decision: 1. What does your gut tell you? Heed your stomach’s siren song of wailing moans as you fill out your ballot. If you’re nauseous, you’re likely thinking about Sen. Cruz. Hungry? Then you’re a Bernie Bro — it’s hard to feed yourself on a hemp jewelrymaker’s salary. Spewing hot gas indiscriminately from every orifice? Then you and the Donald have a lot in common — throw a vote in his direction! To decide our next commander in chief, listen to the

gurgling, churning mass of bile and burrito bits flowing through your intestinal tract.

2. Do you have a vagina? Don’t automatically rule out the GOP. Everyone knows the talking Flamin’ Hot Cheeto/Republican frontrunner who has called women “fat pigs,” “bitches” and “dogs,” but the other candidates deserve as much attention. Gov. John Kasich thanked the Ohio women who left their kitchens to campaign for him; as a symbol of his gratitude, he closed half the abortion clinics in his state, guaranteeing Ohio gals the right to perform their own backalley operations in the comfort of their own home. Of the three remaining candidates, Ted Cruz has by far the best record on women’s rights. He fully supports victims of rape. In fact, he promises each and every one of them the ability to carry their rapist’s child without the fear of affordable health care. On election day, it’s essential to know that the person you vote for cares about you.

3. Do you trust the person you’re voting for? With a name like Crooked Hillary, it’s obvious that the American people have serious daddy issues with Secretary Clinton. Like Pinocchio, the more Hillary Clinton lies, the bigger her shoulder pads grow. At the most recent Democratic debate, a barrel-

chested and broad-shouldered Clinton delivered a stern thump to Sanders, breaking his windpipe. She circled the arena on a flaming chariot of falsehoods, crowning herself with a diadem fashioned from her enemies’ tongues. On the other hand, if there’s one candidate you can trust, it’s Donald Trump’s hair, a third-party newcomer who has stayed above the fray while embracing his ultra-outsider status. Trump’s hair doesn’t back away from a fight — be it with a summer breeze or a nesting bird — and it has never flipflopped. Trump’s hair hasn’t changed its position since 1992.

For consistency and strength, there’s only one option.

Participating in a democracy is an incredible privilege only afforded to an elite few.

No matter whom you decide to vote for next Tuesday, stay true to yourself and make sure to use someone else’s ID — voter fraud doesn’t commit itself. When George Washington invented democracy, he said, “To vote is to love, to tenderly kiss the bosom of Lady Liberty, to squeeze her tight, to feel her right, to love all through the night.”

Your friend, Jack Contact JACK BARRY at john.c.barry@yale.edu .

// ASHLYN OAKES

SATURDAY APRIL

23

DRAG PERFORMANCE! The House // 8 p.m.

“A Drag Extravaganza with Yale’s own up-and-coming Legendaries.” Who could say no to that? Not WKND.

WKND RECOMMENDS: Chowing down at Aladdin Crown Pizza.

YALE DAILY NEWS · FRIDAY, APRIL 22, 2016 · yaledailynews.com

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WEEKEND THEATER

MOTHER-SON DUO BRINGS A MOTHER AND SON TO STAGE // BY ANAMIKA VEERAMANI

In 1979, Terra Ziporyn ’80 wrote a musical script based on the Greek myth of “Cupid and Psyche.” Wanting to bring the script to the Yale stage, she searched for a composer, but couldn’t find someone to take on the project.

The years passed; Ziporyn graduated from Yale, gave up on the musical and found work as a medical writer. And although she hadn’t been able to produce her show while in college, she would sometimes ask composer friends if they wanted to write the music to complete her script.

One of these composer friends was her son, Solon Snider ’17. Snider admitted that he initially resisted joining his mother on the project, but then wavered when he encountered a curiously familiar Greek myth in one of his classes.

“When I came across [“Cupid and Psyche”] in class, I thought, ‘Hadn’t my mom done something with this?’”

She had. Snider called his mom to ask about her old script, and “Cupidity: A Brand New Musical Comedy” was reincarnated.

The mother-son duo has been working on this project since last fall — Ziporyn dusted off the original script and, with Snider, updated the story for the 21st century, adding references to Buzzfeed, blinding cell phone camera flashes and effervescent talk show hosts.

Snider wrote and composed all of the music, which is influenced by current musical theater but has a certain ’90s flavor. After recruiting a large cast and crew, he finally brought the script — which had been dormant for over 30 years — to a Yale stage.

The story sticks to the plot of the original myth — Venus, the fairest Grecian goddess, is threatened by the beauty of a mere mortal, Psyche. Wanting to eliminate her rival, Venus enlists her son Cupid to make Psyche fall in love with the first foul creature she encounters.

Ready to do his mother’s bidding, Cupid changes his mind after catching sight of Psyche and instead falls in love with her himself. He becomes her husband without allowing her to see him but the suspicious Psyche secretly shines a candle on him. When she injures him in the process, the furious Cupid abandons her. Desperate to regain his love, Psyche pleads with Venus to intercede.

The goddess, not wanting to help the girl, gives Psyche a set of impossible tasks to complete in order to see her husband again. By luck and magical help, Psyche completes the tasks and wins Cupid’s love back. She becomes immortal and remains with Cupid for eternity.

“Cupidity” — the modern version of the myth — tells that story exactly, except for a few modifications. Set in

21st-century Beverly Hills, the show uses the magic of Hollywood instead of the magic of the gods to advance the narrative. Rather than the fairest maiden in the land, “Cupidity’s” Psyche is “Buzzfeed’s #1 Natural Beauty.” And the oracle of Apollo does not exist in this world; instead, Dr. Apollo doles out advice and counsel on his hit talk show. These modernizations are funny and contribute to the light-hearted feel of the story, though they are occasionally delivered in a heavy-handed, overly simplified way. The adaptation itself is cohesive and full, parsing the myth in a way that’s easy for the audience to experience.

The script also provides a fluid framework for the actors to structure their performances and interpretation of the myth.

Whereas the only substantive characters in the original myth are Venus and Cupid, “Cupidity” showcases a diverse cast of complex characters. The audience is first introduced to Queen Venus, played by Delilah Napier ’19, an over-thetop, has-been diva. Napier fleshes out the character well, and is most convincing in her interpretation of the diva’s mannerisms and body movement. Trailing behind Venus are her assistants Doreena and Cleo, played by Gillian Bolt ’19 and Caroline Francisco ’18, respectively. Bolt and Francisco also play Psyche’s

mother and grandmother later in the musical. Both actresses flow seamlessly between their two characters, and provide an authentic performance that s tays t r u e to the story.

Next saunters in the titular character, Cupid, played

by Jacob Miller ’19. Miller gives Cupid a younger feel, and creates his character as grounded and likeable. The other half of the myth, Psyche, is played by Lucy Tomasso ’19.

Tomasso also does a great job of personalizing the character, giving Psyche much more texture and dimension than the original myth allowed. But the brightest light amongst the luminescent cast of characters is Dr. Apollo, played by Hershel Holiday ’18. Holiday plays the gregarious, larger-than-life talk show therapist (reminiscent of Dr. Phil), who has a hand in everyone’s story. He fulfills the role perfectly, delivering wit and humor in his vibrant performance.

For anyone who went through a Greek Mythology phase in middle school, the

storyline is very p re d i c ta b l e .

But the vivacity of this musical rests on Ziporyn and Snider’s modernization of the myth, a task that was not easy to undertake but accomplished nonetheless. The original “Cupid and Psyche,” as written in Apuleius’s “Metamorphoses,” is filled with specific narrative machinery, a timeless love story and ancient Greek gods and goddesses, all of which contribute

to its classification as a Greek c o m e d y.

Ziporyn and // DELEINE LEE Snider’s musical retelling of the story is a charming adaptation complete with original music and a compelling genesis story — it’s the perfect modern day musical comedy.

Contact ANAMIKA VEERAMANI at anamika.veeramani@yale.edu .

Suddenly Spring: Alexa Derman’s Why We Have Winter // BY NOAH KIM

Last year, playwright Alexa Derman ’19 workshopped “Why We Have Winter” in a rickety, cuboid L-Dub suite.

It was an informal affair, with snacks (cheese and crackers) and an audience sitting cross-legged on a hardwood floor. Now “Winter’s” a fullfledged production, directed

by Michaela Johnson ’17 and starring four very talented actors. It’s come a long way from its origins.

Put on by a production staff of entirely female and nonbinary individuals, “Winter” follows Anna and Helen, a same-sex couple in their last

year of high school grappling with the fallout from a party where Helen was sexually assaulted in a bathroom. Along with fellow students Jeremy and Peter, the two are putting on a play about the abduction of Persephone, a myth with obvious symbolic value considering their current circumstances.

“Winter’s” focus is not chiefly narrative. It’s a post play, in that it deals with aftermath rather than event. However, the dialogue is so airtight and the prevailing mood of desperation so well painted that the production rarely

sags. The raw emotional intensity of the situation is never cheapened by cliche or sentimentality (an enormous danger, especially when dealing with topics as weighty as those tackled here). Derman depicts the characters with enormous sympathy; one can identify with both Helen and Anna, even when they’re at odds.

At times, “Winter,” like “The Glass Menagerie,” feels like an extended expiation of guilt. Played by Isabella Giovannini ’18, Helen is the production’s main character; the play dwells on her contradictory emotions as she strug-

gles with and is occasionally overwhelmed by the pressure of being both partner and caretaker to an emotionally and sexually unavailable Anna.

Derman has a real ear for the language of evasion, and her dialogue often recalls “Hills Like White Elephants” in the way it revolves around and around and around a gravitationally attractive topic without ever getting anywhere.

Three of the four characters riff in the effusive mode reminiscent of upper-middle-class teenagers involved in theater, and the verbiage of early scenes can test one’s

patience with torrents of pop culture references and millennial irony that gradually grows grating. However, as the horrifying specifics of the situation become clearer and clearer, this concern becomes irrelevant and the joking and deflection acquire an aching sadness.

It’s tempting, as a reviewer, to vacillate back and forth between different poles of extremity, to shriek either praise or opprobrium from the rafters. Nobody wants to read or to write a middling evaluation. The prevalence of declamatory reviews may

mean that the following isn’t taken with much seriousness.

But at this moment, I truly mean it when I say that this, friends, may be something along the lines of a capital E Event. “Winter” is an urgent play of lacerating anger and quiet pathos, genuinely affecting and devastating in its emotional impact. I left reeling. It’s a play our campus needs right now, and I might even venture to say that it’s the best student production I’ve seen over the last two years.

Contact NOAH KIM at noah.kim@yale.edu .

An Intricate Web // BY ALICE ZHAO

“We Wove A Web” is a clever work. Nothing at first glance is what it seems.

It’s supposed to be a show about the lives of the Brontë sisters: Charlotte, Emily and Anne; but in this script, Emily and Anne are already dead. The lights flicker on and Charlotte is alone in their once-shared house. She sits at a table and reminisces.

Her memories play out on stage.

“We Wove A Web” is not a play. Despite the presence of narration, the show is, in essence, a dance theater piece.

The actresses leap and bound across the stage, tumble across beds and dive under tables. A live orchestra accompanies their movements, swelling violins and rumbling cellos; the musicians play in the shadows behind the set.

Rebecca Brudner ’16, the director of the show, said that “We Wove A Web” has been a long time in the making.

Although it is her senior thesis project, Brudner said that she first conceived of the idea long before she had to turn in a formal

FRIDAY APRIL

22

proposal.

“I’ve been sort of obsessed with the Brontë sisters for a while, since middle school,” she laughed.

Brudner explained that during her sophomore year of college, she originally planned on writing a play about the lives of the Brontës. However, as she read pre-existing plays about the family in order to familiarize herself with the genre, she realized that most of these works felt unsatisfactory to her. She didn’t agree with the tendency of those authors to create what she deemed “false narratives” for the sisters, conflating fiction with reality.

Brudner then decided that it might be more effective to just use primary source texts as the script of her show instead of inventing her own dialogue.

The summer before senior year, she received a grant to study at the Brontë sisters’ hometown, where she pored over numerous correspondences written by the sisters, from childhood to adulthood. Most of the narration in

“We Wove A Web” is lifted directly from the Brontë sisters’ own writings, including their diary entries, letters and novels.

Her wo rk with these primary s o u rc e texts also led her to

#NOFLOSSZONE

J.E. Theater // 4:30 p.m.

Hate flossing, love feelings.

the idea of creating a dance theater piece. Brudner said she sensed a restraint in the Brontë sisters’ correspondences, which she surmised was a product of their upbringing in the repressive Victorian era. This lack of embodiment, of being unable to fully express their

// ZISHI LI

feelings, inspired Brudner to create a piece where the Brontë sisters’ innermost emotions could play out in front of an audience.

“I felt like there was a physical impulse in the words,” she said.

“I felt like I, as a contemporary woman, could really seize upon dance as an extension of their writing.”

Gideon Broshy ’17, the composer of “We Wove a Web,” noted that the earliest stages of developing the show involved heavy improvisation. He said that the primary source texts Brudner selected served as the core inspiration of the show, and the music he created organically flowed from interpreting those excerpts.

Brudner, who also choreographed the show, agreed. She explained that initially she gave the actresses excerpts from the primary sources and allowed them to dance however they felt fit. Brudner then reviewed the actresses’ movements and either altered the choreography or left the original improvisa-

tions untouched.

Broshy also emphasized that although he enjoyed a lot of freedom while composing the music, he, Brudner and the actresses worked in close collaboration to make sure that the score, the choreography and the script seamlessly wove together. Miles Walter ’18, the associate director of the show, further stressed the importance of integrating all of these separate parts together into one cohesive work.

“It’s pulling together totally disparate sources and combining them into a structure that really is dramatically tight and viable,” he said.

“We Wove A Web” is only an hour long, a testament to the intense editing process that Brudner adopted in order to streamline and focus the show.

However, despite its short length, the show is undeniably haunting. It’s the kind of experience that passes quickly but lingers, doesn’t let go.

Contact ALICE ZHAO at alice.zhao@yale.edu .

WKND RECOMMENDS: Meeting your Tinder date at Grove Street Cemetery.

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YALE DAILY NEWS · FRIDAY, APRIL 22, 2016 · yaledailynews.com

WEEKEND BACKSTAGE

ART IN UNEXPECTED PLACES // MAYA SWEEDLER

// COURTESY OF SASKIA STOLZ

S

askia Stolz is the Dutch artist behind the “Moving People,” small figurines installed in Bass Library to honor the millions of refugees currently fleeing their homes. She is also the founder of the Power of Art House, an art collective that addresses socio-political issues. Visiting Yale for a few days, Saskia took some time to sit down with WKND and discuss about her art collective, the role of a modern artist and her influences.

Q: What is the Power of Art House’s approach to art?

A: The Power of Art House is a creative collective of artists who want to intervene. We use art as a weapon against indifference. There are a lot of social issues and not a lot of awareness, especially in Holland — though I guess it’s everywhere.

We want to raise awareness of those issues, mostly through street art. Usually we do it in public spaces.

It’s really an intervention at the moment you don’t expect it and in a place you don’t expect it, so it has the most impact.

Q: How is the Power of Art House organized?

A: We have a think tank that’s quite big. It [consists of] 12 artists. When we come together, sometimes it’s four, sometimes all 12, sometimes I work with one. It depends. [An idea] starts with me, because I’m always the angry one, and then it catches. I’ll call the think tank and ask to talk about the idea — to improve it or enhance it — and it works. They’re very critical, but that’s good.

Q: How did you develop this approach?

A: I had my own design agency for 15 years that did work for Amnesty International, Human Rights Watch, all these nongovernmental organizations.

It’s a campaigning agency, so I’m used to developing public campaigns, mostly awareness campaigns. Those organizations developed professionalization that made the whole communication feel like marketing. They’re really selling a product.

I was doing the same, but it doesn’t touch me anymore — it wasn’t straight from the heart.

When the war started in Syria, I read an article about a boy who was tortured to death in prison. I was so shocked by this article, and it made me so

angry, that I started drawing this boy and began the street art action.

Everybody liked the action; everybody was talking about it. And I thought: Ah, this is a much better way. When you do art in the street, people really feel it’s theirs. It’s not art in a museum, it’s in a public space, and the message is very clear.

Q: What do you think is most effective about street art, and how would you characterize the reaction it generates?

A: Most of the time, we use subjects from the everyday world and we give it a twist. Since the art is in a public place, and is often an object close to you, it’s weird — people start talking about it. Or, with “Moving People,” it’s about scaling. We took real people and made them small, and everybody liked it because it was cute. It made the ugly stuff accessible, and that’s the biggest effect. We provoke conversation and force people to talk about things they don’t want to talk about.

Q: How did you come up with “Moving People,” and what sort of response have you seen?

A: “Moving People” was created at a moment in which I was really angry because people were talking very badly about refugees. In Holland, the debate is extremely polarized, and people were saying such ugly things about refugees that I wanted to make something small and cute. It’s unbelievable how many people have embraced “Moving People” and are sharing it — thousands of people. And of course, they’re talking about it.

There was a politician in Holland who put one of the Moving People in Parliament and posted a photo on Twitter, so that got a large reaction … It was so great to see this little figurine provoked a debate.

Q: How do you view the role of the artist in today’s society? Does an artist have a responsibility to address these social or political issues?

A: It’s difficult, because a lot of people are asking whether it’s the responsibility of an artist to be engaged. To be honest, I don’t have an opinion.

An artist can do what he wants, and if he wants to make art just because it’s beautiful, and he has no message, that’s fine. But when you are engaged

and you use your art to spread a message, that’s also good.

Q: Do you have a favorite artist?

A: For a long time, my favorite artist was Banksy.

For 10 years, he was my favorite, but now the whole world loves him, so I think he’s a cliche.

But when I was young, I loved Hobart — he was really something else. I also love surrealist painters, so Magritte and all that.

Q: Do you see any similarities between your work and Banksy’s?

A: We did one street art action, and there were people saying, “Oh that really looks like Banksy.”

Well, that’s not completely true because it’s a type of style. We both used stencils. Only this action was similar, but the rest, not so much. We also use design; we’ve done necklaces. The style is always different.

Q: What does Power of Art House have planned next?

A: We are developing a new project called “Invisible People.” It’s about people who are not visible to society because they’re living on the edge.

They [are dealing with] financial problems, mental health problems, drinking problems, and they need help. I’m not only talking about homeless people. They can be anybody. We want to make those “invisible people” visible.

We’re going to put hundreds of pairs of shoes — really artistic, beautiful shoes — on the streets.

For each pair, there will be a shadow of a real person, so it’s like a literal invisible person. In the shoe, there will be a QR code. People can scan the codes and hear from the “invisible people.” For example, it might be a little poem or video.

Contact MAYA SWEEDLER at maya.sweedler@yale.edu .

“It made the ugly stuff accessible, and that’s the biggest effect.”