How Do You Review the Arts

For me reviewing the arts is when you ask questions about what's in front of you. Before you start to look at all the little elements, it's like you didn't even really see it or appreciate it. Roland Barthes and reading too much into it really stuck with me. I like the idea that you can pick things apart and see all kinds of other nuggets inside. Perhaps it's because of my background in poetry, I just love looking at things from another angle. You ask yourself “why?” I a lot more. I like that. If I could just go on and on all day about it with someone I would be pleased as a pea. I think in order to review you have to get that feeling, that questioning and answering back in your head that's like trying to understand something and then becoming even more confused. It's like constantly continuing the conversation. At first you think it's just about giving your opinion, and it's not—'cause no one friggin' cares. Keep 'em to yourself if it's not in some way constructive. I've explored the things I love, the things I thought I hated, and the things that make up my world here as a student. Through all the explorations it forced you to look at even what wasn't your “cup of tea” and to go at it. I think the five word wrap of the class was exactly what it's all about when it comes to reviewing, and I feel a bit cheated that the concept hadn't instead been discussed on the first day. It's perfect in saying both in essence, the definition of reviewing and also an stating an important question we always have to ask ourselves: “If not this, then what?”

What? What? What? Columbia and the Questions it Makes Me Ask Myself

So what's Columbia all about? What makes us different from any other school out there? What makes us the same? What do we do here? Well, we actually do all kindsa stuff. Our classes range way across the art field and then spill into other areas still, like management. As a visual arts management student, I had never attended half the things I did this semester. As I visited and moseyed I noticed things and asked my self questions. I don't really believe in making serious concrete statements that can when you can always look at something another way. This is an exploration and reflection on my experience at the only school that I even applied to. I lived almost 500 miles away, graduated with a 3.85 GPA and the only school I applied to was Columbia College Chicago. I've also remained here, as most of my peers are either transfers from other schools or they left Columbia and went somewhere else. I've stuck here, but that's not to say I don't have my gripes. I just remember that nothing in life is ever perfect, or rather—there are always things we can improve on. To start our journey through the culture of Columbia we'll reflect on the first show I had ever seen here and also the last event I attended.

The Blues Ensemble 1 & 2, performed in the Columbia College's music center on December 5. The ensemble was made up of two groups of students exploring a wide range of both blues and old time classics. There was Etta James, Aretha Franklin, and even a Muddy Water's song (though the Coco Taylor version) to keep the audience both familiar and interested. Sadly there were no (what I consider) real blues, you know like Junior Kimbrough, Leadbelly, or Son House. The music center—a building that has probably gone unnoticed by all non-music majors is right on South Michigan. Since I'd never been there before, I had to ask the security guard at the front desk where I was going, and she was very helpful. I was told to just go right on through the door and into the concert hall. It was reminiscent of the many scholarly music halls I'd been in throughout my five years in art school—I found it comforting, because the space doesn't need to change or improve. In all reality, the space doesn't even matter—only the music being played and the musicians do.

Blue and white lights shine down on the players and I spotted a pink one or two that created a green glow on everyone. They were all dressed business casual in blacks, whites, and grays—your typical ensemble get ups. I understand why this dress code exists, as I was in honors choir for several years and it's based on the idea that the music matters, not the people making it. However, I always disagreed. Yes, the music is ultimately what matters, but at the same time doesn't the personality of the players aid in their bravado? Wouldn't they feel more comfortable and in their element if they were wearing an outfit of their choosing? I thought about this for a little while, so doesn't it mean it was doing the opposite? For wanting to be all about change, it seemed as if they were fitting the “norm” and conforming. I thought we weren't supposed to conform. You're confusing me Columbia.

One element that I found really noticeable and appreciated, was that both bands (though especially the first group) were constantly switching instruments after a song. Constant instruments played throughout included drum kit, bongo, bass, guitar(s), piano and several men and women on vocals. Both this style and event, I found incredibly reminiscent of Columbia's feel as a whole. This is because it is commonplace for students at Columbia to be Jack's of all trades. We are encouraged to spread our wings into other areas within our own field (though often times, not branch out enough to explore outside of our actual major). I attended the show, not only to review it, but because my friend Johnny was performing. Just within the first four songs Johnny had moved from bass to guitar and back again. The girl that started out on bongos made her way to regular drums and on bass. It shows how important is is to know your craft well, because when you do you can move on and learn other instruments and understand how they work all together, as well as how each part has its own presence. The vocalists had a chance to go solo or together on backup vocals, so if you didn't like one it didn't ruin the show. The first group performed a solid set and everyone seemed very comfortable playing their instruments, even though there was a lot of switching off happening constantly. The second group however (which I assumed was supposed to be the “better” of the two, like the 1^st is opening for the main act, right?) had a lot of musicians that stayed on their respected instruments but it seemed I caught more slip ups. The one guitarist in particular looked a mixture of surprised/amused/impressed/flabbergasted all at once. It was actually kind of difficult to focus on anyone else, but then one female singer came out. Adorned with black lace sleeved dress and red lips, she sang the first number and I was impressed—but more with her beauty than anything. Then, she started to sing Billie Holiday, and I melted into my seat. She was able to manipulate her voice to sound so reminiscent of Holiday's own style and quirks. The second act also busted out a metal slide for the guitar—adding what I consider the bluesiest of elements.

Music being only one factor of Columbia's majors, I wanted to see what other things students do here that's not in my field. The fashion collection housed in 618 building, which is showing something year round in the East facing windows provided the perfect view book of what students in the fashion department are doing. Currently a show inspired by designer Charles James resides in the space. James was a designer who hailed from Chicago originally and was known for his very structural style of hat making. He then moved to New York City and started making evening dresses and ball gowns, still holding true to his very original style. His pieces were often referred to as being like fine sculpture, as opposed to wearable garments. Although he created beautiful gowns, he never really could break into the larger consumer market. These were dresses you’d see on the runway, but were not translatable to something bought at Macy’s. There are not only decals that say the name of the show “INSPIRED by Charles James”, but also an informational panel facing South Michigan directly on, so passerby can know the show/designer by name and also understand what the show is all about. All students’ names are printed clearly on a sign next to each dress.

The eleven pieces in the windows are those of the semifinalists in this competition. All pieces are very representative of Charles James’s signature style in actually sculpting the fabric to create three dimensional space coming off of the body. There are hard elements posed up next to soft flowing sections. The first thing I noticed off the bat and appreciated was that not all pieces were the same. The chosen dresses were not just elegant evening gowns; there were party dresses (assumed due to their length), coats, evening dresses and hybrids. I wonder if this was a conscious decision of the judges or if there really was a diverse group of submissions.

All went with the same sort of chic color palette, expressed in blacks, creams, whites, and light pinks. It was apparent how James was referenced in the pieces. Some of which appeared more wearable than others, but all held a very structural backbone. Dana Dupree had flowing hard black lines that hung off the body and up into a zipper. Trianna Majalca's dress had tiers that instead of flowing down, cut upwards to make rectangular waves popping up to the hip. Stephanie Gabrys's evening gown was reminiscent of this as well, with boxy tiers going all the way from under the bust to the floor. Even Margaret Bolan's jacket with structured back was beautiful.

I really appreciate that fact that Columbia, although growing these artists into free thinking individuals, can also always tie what we learn back to something bigger. We as students learn that there is no future without a past and this is why “inspired by” collections are so important. We're admitting that we don't know everything, but at least we can continue the conversation.

When thinking about the school import to diversify by the exploration of other majors, but also to explore what my thoughts are on my own field and how I felt at the beginning of the semester. Dwelling, was up in the C33 gallery at the start of this class and the first time we had to pick apart something that was in our world. Bubble can't describe it because of how in the city we are, but more on that later.

“Dwelling” explores a wide variety of both the comforts and terrors of home. What makes home? Is it the people who dwell along with you, the projects that take up space from years of collecting dust, the memories of all times you had there, or even mental snapshots of what’s gone by and come up so far? Each artist thought something else when the concept of dwelling was put out there. It could be as dark and mysterious as Austin Swearengin’s piece entitled “Finding a Way In”. The sculpture isn’t recognizable as a house or shelter, but rather a sailboat shaped box with no entrance or exit. This leaves the viewer either interested with wonder or fed up with an artist or curator’s “concept”. With any exhibit there’s the possible problem of whether or not the viewer will get the art or the “big idea”. This may have been the largest problem the show faced.

“Memory Archive” was less abstract and was a full wall of snapshots that made the viewer feel like home. It's hard to not be cynical at this. Why are there so many images? Where there not few enough that were strong enough to stand on their own or even in sets, that the artist had to just put up the whole roll? At least this piece was receivable. I'm sure there wasn't a soul that walked by and though, “Am I not getting this?”

Although not all work can be as to the point as Anna Peter’s memory archive, some of the pieces left the viewer completely at a loss. For instance, in Carrie Schneider’s family videos, the subject is older and featured in her mother’s arms in one and having her hair washed by her father in the other. Are these family videos reshot with the child now of adult age? Is there something wrong with the girl that these tasks are being completed for her? Is there some sort of incest theme that’s supposed to be going on? I couldn't have been the only one to think this—so was the point of the piece lost because I'm asking myself so many damn questions? That's what I'm thinking.

Ginny Hou’s “Corrugated Roof” also left you wondering what exactly was roof like about the structure at all. You leave the mind completely up to the viewer with little subtext and you have a very weirded out audience. At the same time, many works of art are not meant to have some huge theme. Sometimes it's just enough for it to provide the viewer with an emotion, a certain “je n'este pas” can help art go a long way. “Roof” made me want to crawl underneath the accordion folded paper, into the fetal position and just listen to the call of birds. Come to think of it, that exactly what “Dwelling” can be.”

The heavy audio visual elements and abstract concepts of the show made it about 3 stars in my book. Opinion is everything and “Dwelling” is different for everyone in very different place. So do these could elements make the show fail? Not if you had enough pieces to rope the viewer in and still make ‘em reflect.

These Columbia events or shows all do say something about Columbia and what the experience is like and the questions we ask ourselves while going all along on our merry ways. However, half of them you will never actually be able to experience. They end and new shows go up and even the reference that it happened may be difficult to find. So how could someone reading this really know what I'm saying or really ask the questions I do, if they have no point of real visual reference, real time/space reference. To see the many faced Columbia College Chicago, they would need to see some spots, since we're not your run of the mill campus with everything centralized. There are three spots for me, that have made my experience here what it is and why I stay. These places are how I would describe my experience because they've given way to meeting both Columbia's most typical (rolls eyes) and extraordinary individuals.

In my three years at Columbia, there is one space that I would say is most representative of the school as a whole and that is the smoker hoard in front of the 624 S Michigan building. When it's the beginning of the semester, you'll likely see everyone you know—as the bookstore windows show winding lines that look like someone was playing “snake” and ate a whole lot of dots. The 624 building not only houses the library and the bookstore, but also probably the most diverse set of classes. This is because, with the exception of English, almost all of the LAS courses are taught here. That means you can meet anyone. AEMM students rendezvous with music majors, fashion majors, and even visual artists. Smokers follow one another down the elevators and out around the red marble flower beds—the perfect place to sit if it hasn't rained. I've always wondered why these flower beds are less impressive than the rest the city boasts—can it be that we're college students? Could it be that we have no respect for anything/one other than ourselves? Or is that what they think? Possibly. The past smokers could have ruined this beauty for the rest of us. The 624 building also is ideal because of its location, as it is situated between all other buildings. It is North of the Book and Paper Center, Music building, and Film Row, but also South of the Photography/Admissions building and the English building. I was quick to choose this space also because before I even came to Columbia and identified as one of the “smokers” , upon only visiting I thought South Michigan WAS Chicago. When you sit out in front you get 5 lanes of traffic to the East side—three going South and two going North. You also have Grant Park to look at. Being from Western Pennsylvania, the wilderness is what I miss most, and when the city's all you got the little walkway through the trees is sometimes enough. When you think about it, it is quintessentially what Columbia is—an incredibly urban campus with lovely landscaping thrown in to perhaps make us forget that we're actually in world on concrete.

The second place that symbolizes Columbia for me personally is the Blum Conference room on the fifth floor of the Library. Don't know it? Didn't think so. This may very well be Columbia's best kept secret, or at least it is in my opinion. The other room, tucked right in the back of the library by the North set of elevators lies a world unlike any other found on the campus. Columbia is very new and likes to keep up with the times and modern design, and decorates accordingly. We even have a set color palette for the school. This room makes you wonder if its two wooden carves doors will lead you to Narnia. The walls are carved wood as well, and there's aged hardwood flooring throughout. Fourteen crimson red wheeled chairs make their way around the grandiose wooden conference table, and show a view of Grant Park and Lakeshore Drive from five stories up. Framed photos of important people to the school (e.g. president Carter, Mary Ann Blood) are the only items adorning the walls, which are just beautiful in their own right. All modern accessories, like a fan, coat hanger, and power strip are all matte black, as if attempting to not steal any of the spotlight from the rest of the rooms. Speaking of lights, these aren't the florescent overheads that you see all throughout the rest of the school—these are floor lamps with stained glass shades, and fake candle fixtures on the wall. And as if it couldn't get any fancier the ceiling is white with rose cut outs and meet the fireplace. Yes, you heard me—fireplace. Where many would say that this isn’t anything like Columbia and doesn't belong in an explanation fo the school, I would have to disagree. This is where we came from, this is what Columbia used to be. This is actually still what it is (in the hoity toity hierarchy of the fatheads in charge). I mock, but that's not even why I picked it. I picked it because art doesn't exist on its own—completely new of everything that's already happened. Art is influenced by history, is that not why we put so much stock into Art History? If the Loft was what if Columbia now, The Blum Conference Room is how we all got here.

Another spot on campus that's representative of the Columbia community as a whole would be in front of the 623 Wabash building. There's a view of what used to be the freshman dorms at 2 E 8^th Street. So much of my first year at Columbia was walking past 623 on my way anywhere on campus. It houses Shop Columbia, with their light blue neon sign leading people to come in. Shop Columbia is to the left of the entrance, selling Columbia students and graduates works. To the right is the Hokin gallery, a student run exhibition space. The rest of the building holds where most, if not all, visual arts classes are held, which brings your quintessential “artist” out for a smoke. They're all clad more or less the same, as if Chicago distributed a dress code and I didn't get the memo. Where one would imagine to see the oddest ducks of the art school pond, you usually just get cutouts from the latest Urban Outfitters catalog. It's as if living in a city this size means we all have to outdo one another fashion wise, without looking like we try at all. How could they not though? The view from here makes one feel incredibly urban. People are leaning on the black marble that spans the front of the building. Why is it slanted? I've asked myself this question a million times. Even though you put a cigarette butt tower out here for us, it's kinda hard to sit and not have gravity scooting you down. My hypothesis: the homeless. The city, as with its affinity for sparkling sidewalks and blooming flowerbeds, also manages to create “seating” all throughout the city that is designed to only accommodate sitting, and no sleeping. I don't know if we should feel appreciative or just sad as I look up at the roaring “el”. Other views include that of Warehouse Liquors, a small and somewhat swanky liquor distributor, a fancy Japanese restaurant called Tamarind and a condo. However more the more standard business of the the bunch practically take over the block: KFC/Pizza Hut, Subway, Dunkin' Donuts and Harold's Chicken. We college students is hungry, and they are practically on our doorstep. I wonder if this intense consumerism shoved in our face makes us different from the students that attend class on grassy quads. Then, the final gem in the mix is being able to see the Columbia English building at the corner of Wabash and Congress. The only Columbia building with its side exposed, was painted to commemorate the school and pinpoint our campus. Columbia College Chicago in bright green letters on a light blue background with the circular logo reading “Create Change” in white on orange. Although this is creative in respect to other buildings around the city, I still find myself asking for more. Why isn't it more creative, why wasn't it painted by our own artists, why can't a design be the face of the student body and not that of the polished “owners” of Columbia. Because I don't know about you, but the artists I know get a little dirty. We're scrappy and more interested in the concept and execution than with how the rest of the city will see us. Let's tear down the pretension.

So you see, sometimes I have opinions. Sometimes I read a little too far into it, and sometimes I care way to much about nothing. Sometimes I'm unimpressed. Sometimes I give the school more shit than it probably deserves, but I just need to keep it on its toes because I love it so much. I'm only looking out for it—for us. I'm really only human. Columbia is run by humans. We can't make anything perfect. It's unattainable. You just gotta weigh pros and cons, exactly how the class started. What's good, what's bad and what does that mean? For me, it means that this is my home.

P.S. This is a painting I made that should be featured on the side of the C33/English building. It even stays inside their color pallet. I poke fun, but am also serious.

Columbia Reviews: Charles James Fashion Contest

The 618 building of Columbia College Chicago houses fashion pieces year round in the East facing windows. Currently a show inspired by designer Charles James resides in the space. James was a designer who hailed from Chicago originally and was known for his very structural style of hat making. He then moved to New York City and started making evening dresses and ball gowns, still holding true to his very original style. His pieces were often referred to as being like fine sculpture, as opposed to wearable garments. Although he created beautiful gowns, he never really could break into the larger consumer market. These were dresses you’d see on the runway, but were not translatable to something bought at Macy’s. There are not only decals that say the name of the show “INSPIRED by Charles James”, but also an informational panel facing South Michigan directly on, so passerby can know the show/designer by name and also understand what the show is all about. All students’ names are printed clearly on a sign next to each dress.

The eleven pieces in the windows are those of the semifinalists in this competition. All pieces are very representative of Charles James’s signature style in actually sculpting the fabric to create three dimensional space coming off of the body. There are hard elements posed up next to soft flowing sections. The first thing I noticed off the bat and appreciated was that not all pieces were the same. The chosen dresses were not just elegant evening gowns; there were party dresses (assumed due to their length), coats, evening dresses and hybrids. I wonder if this was a conscious decision of the judges or if there really was a diverse group of submissions.

All went with the same sort of chic color palette, expressed in blacks, creams, whites, and light pinks. It was apparent how James was referenced in the pieces. Some of which appeared more wearable than others, but all held a very structural backbone. Dana Dupree had flowing hard black lines that hung off the body and up into a zipper. Trianna Majalca's dress had tiers that instead of flowing down, cut upwards to make rectangular waves popping up to the hip. Stephanie Gabrys's evening gown was reminiscent of this as well, with boxy tiers going all the way from under the bust to the floor. Even Margaret Bolan's jacket with structured back was beautiful.

I really appreciate that fact that Columbia, although growing these artists into free thinking individuals, can also always tie what we learn back to something bigger. We as students learn that there is no future without a past and this is why “inspired by” collections are so important. We're admitting that we don't know everything, but at least we can continue the conversation.

The Anti-Blog; Looking at The Dixie Chicks' "Shut Up and Sing"

It wasn't until after watching “Shut Up and Sing”, the Dixie Chicks documentary, that I realized that I really was the intended audience for the film. I went into it thinking, “I hate country music, I really don't want to have to watch this stupid movie with these women playing their awful country hits. I can't even relate to them or the culture that they're in.”. Little did I know that this wasn't some music documentary chronicling the Chicks' success in the country music world. It was actually about how they were cast out.

In 2003, when the former president, George Bush, announced that we would be going to war, most of the country was in dismay. Now our generation has a war, and what is it really based on? The Chicks were well aware of this and felt very strongly on the matter. At their show in London, the lead singer stated, “I'm ashamed that the president is from Texas”, since this was her home state. Well, the rest of Texas, and the rest of the country world felt a little different. Next thing the girls knew they were being dropped from their Lipton Tea sponsored deal, plethora of hate mail started coming in, even death threats. All because of one tiny opinion stated about a state that was an ocean away. One mean line that stuck out in particular for me was, “Strap her to a bomb and send her to Baghdad!”.

From the Dixie Chicks' start they had already grown into a new beast. No longer were they performing old time country with hoop skirts on, but they were selling contemporary country music to the masses. They were a hit in 2003, and their song “Traveling Soldier” had potential to be at the charts for a long time. That is until that slip up happened, and the song plummeted. The girls got shit from all angles and it scared them a bit. Years passed before they regained the American people, that is win over the non-liberals.

The biggest problem was that they were being hit for freedom of speech. Although their target audience weren't of the same opinion, they should have at least respected that the girls use one of the great girts America gives us. Wouldn't they be “unamerican” and “commies” if they didn't?

The film instead of chronicling success, chronicled the hardships that they faced and the loss they encountered. Even with a whole family on the tour bus—they still felt fear. Holly, the one who originally said the “words that shook America”, commented that, “The people who banned us, I'll never talk to again and the people that supported us are gonna get more love than they've ever seen.”

Even with the dangers of angry fans and the humiliation of being banned, the girls never stopped saying what they believed in. They posed on the cover of Entertainment Weekly almost completely nude, with all the words they had been called since the incident.

It was all about sticking to your guns, which should be appreciated by any liberty-loving American. The country chewed them up, spit them out, and they're still going. They even went to the same gig in London years later, and don't you know she said the same damn thing. “I'm still ashamed that our president is from Texas.” Now kids, what's more American than that?

Columbia Blues Ensemble

The Blues Ensemble 1 & 2, performed in the Columbia College's music center on December 5. The ensemble was made up of two groups of students exploring a wide range of both blues and old time classics. There was Etta James, Aretha Franklin, and even a Muddy Water's song (though the Coco Taylor version) to keep the audience both familiar and interested. Sadly there were no (what I consider) real blues, you know like Junior Kimbrough, Leadbelly, or Son House. The music center—a building that has probably gone unnoticed by all non-music majors is right on South Michigan. Since I'd never been there before, I had to ask the security guard at the front desk where I was going, and she was very helpful. I was told to just go right on through the door and into the concert hall. It was reminiscent of the many scholarly music halls I'd been in throughout my five years in art school—I found it comforting, because the space doesn't need to change or improve. In all reality, the space doesn't even matter—only the music being played and the musicians do.

Blue and white lights shine down on the players and I spotted a pink one or two that created a green glow on everyone. They were all dressed business casual in blacks, whites, and grays—your typical ensemble get ups. I understand why this dress code exists, as I was in honors choir for several years and it's based on the idea that the music matters, not the people making it. However, I always disagreed. Yes, the music is ultimately what matters, but at the same time doesn't the personality of the players aid in their bravado? Wouldn't they feel more comfortable and in their element if they were wearing an outfit of their choosing? I thought about this for a little while, so doesn't it mean it was doing the opposite? For wanting to be all about change, it seemed as if they were fitting the “norm” and conforming. I thought we weren't supposed to conform. You're confusing me Columbia.

One element that I found really noticeable and appreciated, was that both bands (though especially the first group) were constantly switching instruments after a song. Constant instruments played throughout included drum kit, bongo, bass, guitar(s), piano and several men and women on vocals. Both this style and event, I found incredibly reminiscent of Columbia's feel as a whole. This is because it is commonplace for students at Columbia to be Jack's of all trades. We are encouraged to spread our wings into other areas within our own field (though often times, not branch out enough to explore outside of our actual major). I attended the show, not only to review it, but because my friend Johnny was performing. Just within the first four songs Johnny had moved from bass to guitar and back again. The girl that started out on bongos made her way to regular drums and on bass. It shows how important is is to know your craft well, because when you do you can move on and learn other instruments and understand how they work all together, as well as how each part has its own presence. The vocalists had a chance to go solo or together on backup vocals, so if you didn't like one it didn't ruin the show. The first group performed a solid set and everyone seemed very comfortable playing their instruments, even though there was a lot of switching off happening constantly. The second group however (which I assumed was supposed to be the “better” of the two, like the 1^st is opening for the main act, right?) had a lot of musicians that stayed on their respected instruments but it seemed I caught more slip ups. The one guitarist in particular looked a mixture of surprised/amused/impressed/flabbergasted all at once. It was actually kind of difficult to focus on anyone else, but then one female singer came out. Adorned with black lace sleeved dress and red lips, she sang the first number and I was impressed—but more with her beauty than anything. Then, she started to sing Billie Holiday, and I melted into my seat. She was able to manipulate her voice to sound so reminiscent of Holiday's own style and quirks. The second act also busted out a metal slide for the guitar—adding what I consider the bluesiest of elements.

Columbia Places

In my three years at Columbia, there is one space that I would say is most representative of the school as a whole and that is the smoker hoard in front of the 624 S Michigan building. When it's the beginning of the semester, you'll likely see everyone you know—as the bookstore windows show winding lines that look like someone was playing “snake” and ate a whole lot of dots. The 624 building not only houses the library and the bookstore, but also probably the most diverse set of classes. This is because, with the exception of English, almost all of the LAS courses are taught here. That means you can meet anyone. AEMM students rendezvous with music majors, fashion majors, and even visual artists. Smokers follow one another down the elevators and out around the red marble flower beds—the perfect place to sit if it hasn't rained. I've always wondered why these flower beds are less impressive than the rest the city boasts—can it be that we're college students? Could it be that we have no respect for anything/one other than ourselves? Or is that what they think? Possibly. The past smokers could have ruined this beauty for the rest of us. The 624 building also is ideal because of its location, as it is situated between all other buildings. It is North of the Book and Paper Center, Music building, and Film Row, but also South of the Photography/Admissions building and the English building. I was quick to choose this space also because before I even came to Columbia and identified as one of the “smokers” , upon only visiting I thought South Michigan WAS Chicago. When you sit out in front you get 5 lanes of traffic to the East side—three going South and two going North. You also have Grant Park to look at. Being from Western Pennsylvania, the wilderness is what I miss most, and when the city's all you got the little walkway through the trees is sometimes enough. When you think about it, it is quintessentially what Columbia is—an incredibly urban campus with lovely landscaping thrown in to perhaps make us forget that we're actually in world on concrete.

The second place that symbolizes Columbia for me personally is the Blum Conference room on the fifth floor of the Library. Don't know it? Didn't think so. This may very well be Columbia's best kept secret, or at least it is in my opinion. The other room, tucked right in the back of the library by the North set of elevators lies a world unlike any other found on the campus. Columbia is very new and likes to keep up with the times and modern design, and decorates accordingly. We even have a set color palette for the school. This room makes you wonder if its two wooden carves doors will lead you to Narnia. The walls are carved wood as well, and there's aged hardwood flooring throughout. Fourteen crimson red wheeled chairs make their way around the grandiose wooden conference table, and show a view of Grant Park and Lakeshore Drive from five stories up. Framed photos of important people to the school (e.g. president Carter, Mary Ann Blood) are the only items adorning the walls, which are just beautiful in their own right. All modern accessories, like a fan, coat hanger, and power strip are all matte black, as if attempting to not steal any of the spotlight from the rest of the rooms. Speaking of lights, these aren't the florescent overheads that you see all throughout the rest of the school—these are floor lamps with stained glass shades, and fake candle fixtures on the wall. And as if it couldn't get any fancier the ceiling is white with rose cut outs and meet the fireplace. Yes, you heard me—fireplace. Where many would say that this isn’t anything like Columbia and doesn't belong in an explanation fo the school, I would have to disagree. This is where we came from, this is what Columbia used to be. This is actually still what it is (in the hoity toity hierarchy of the fatheads in charge). I mock, but that's not even why I picked it. I picked it because art doesn't exist on its own—completely new of everything that's already happened. Art is influenced by history, is that not why we put so much stock into Art History? If the Loft was what if Columbia now, The Blum Conference Room is how we all got here.

Another spot on campus that's representative of the Columbia community as a whole would be in front of the 623 Wabash building. There's a view of what used to be the freshman dorms at 2 E 8^th Street. SO much of my first year at Columbia was walking past 623 on my way anywhere on campus. It houses Shop Columbia, with their light blue neon sign leading people to come in. Shop Columbia is to the left of the entrance, selling Columbia students and graduates works. To the right is the Hokin gallery, a student run exhibition space. The rest of the building holds where most, if not all, visual arts classes are held, which brings your quintessential “artist” out for a smoke. They're all clad more or less the same, as if Chicago distributed a dress code and I didn't get the memo. Where one would imagine to see the oddest ducks of the art school pond, you usually just get cutouts from the latest Urban Outfitters catalog. It's as if living in a city this size means we all have to outdo one another fashion wise, without looking like we try at all. How could they not though? The view from here makes one feel incredibly urban. People are leaning on the black marble that spans the front of the building. Why is it slanted? I've asked myself this question a million times. Even though you put a cigarette butt tower out here for us, it's kinda hard to sit and not have gravity scooting you down. My hypothesis: the homeless. The city, as with its affinity for sparkling sidewalks and blooming flowerbeds, also manages to create “seating” all throughout the city that is designed to only accommodate sitting, and no sleeping. I don't know if we should feel appreciative or just sad as I look up at the roaring “el”. Other views include that of Warehouse Liquors, a small and somewhat swanky liquor distributor, a fancy Japanese restaurant called Tamarind and a condo. However more the more standard business of the the bunch practically take over the block: KFC/Pizza Hut, Subway, Dunkin' Donuts and Harold's Chicken. We college students is hungry, and they are practically on our doorstep. I wonder if this intense consumerism shoved in our face makes us different from the students that attend class on grassy quads. Then, the final gem in the mix is being able to see the Columbia English building at the corner of Wabash and Congress. The only Columbia building with its side exposed, was painted to commemorate the school and pinpoint our campus. Columbia College Chicago in bright green letters on a light blue background with the circular logo reading “Create Change” in white on orange. Although this is creative in respect to other buildings around the city, I still find myself asking for more. Why isn't it more creative, why wasn't it painted by our own artists, why can't a design be the face of the student body and not that of the polished “owners” of Columbia. Because I don't know about you, but the artists I know get a little dirty. We're scrappy and more interested in the concept and execution than with how the rest of the city will see us. Let's tear down the pretension.

The Block Party That Everyone Should Revisit.

“Dave Chappelle's Block Party” is a music doc featuring a star studded musical line up (The Fugees, Mos Def, Kanye West, The Roots, Erykah Badu, Jill Scott), Dave Chappelle, some kookie artists in a “floating” house, and even a fun crew that Chappelle invited from his town in Ohio. I already like music docs, so I didn't need much pushing—but “Block Party” was fantastic. It wasn't what people would expect when they hear his name—in fact, everyone that I asked about it had never seen it. These were people that not only had access but also interest in the craft, the man, the music, and the city. I wonder if the huge blow up over his last minute escape to South Africa made the film just a tiny blip on the radar. The film was made before this stint, in 2004, and it's easy to see why Chapelle would have been overwhelmed: this project was like nothing else he had put out (he hosted and wrote “Block Party”) and the second season of the Chappelle show was about to start—and probably bring on all kinds of the wrong attention. Because his work on the Chappelle show is so loud and over the top, it attracts a certain crowd that doesn’t really see it for what it is. They could very well watch the clips where he poses as all the different racial stereotypes(Pixie Videos) and think it's hilarious because it's portrayed in that way—and not even get the bit of sadness that's behind it. Dave Chappelle is a smart man, he knows what he's doing, but the frat boys who just want to yell/regurgitate offensive one liner quotes from the show don't and it loses the point.

Before studying Chappelle in this class I hadn't really cared for him. I had only seen clips of the “Chappelle Show” and got was he was doing, but felt like he was getting the wrong kind of attention, it almost made me uncomfortable with how far he was taking it. It wasn't even uncomfortable in the way you'd imagine, because my ideas of race are so different from many—but more on that later. However, upon watching the interview with him and James Lipton on "Inside The Actors Studios", I connected with him so much. Just the way he spoke in everyday language is reminiscent of how I speak (though not academically) and reminds me of where I come from. I wonder a lot if Ohio is the same as Pennsylvania. In many ways it is (I live at the border) and I'm always wondering about the whole nature vs. nurture thing. Not only did I love the way he conversed, but so much of what he was saying was easy going and real. It's easy to see that he never really wanted the attention he got. He just wanted to do what he loved and stay where he was (which is why he still lives in Ohio, even though he's rich bitch.). “Block Party” was simultaneously a comment on and precursor for the events that took place regarding the second season of his show.

I realize that the main point I'm supposed to be hitting in this review is the bigger picture of race. I understand how it's often revolting to see many of the viewers repeat Dave Chappelle's work back at him and miss the point of what he's trying to say (even though he's saying it in a funny way). I get that, because a little pit in my stomach forms like someone is being made fun of when I hear/see it. It's not cool to mock anyone and that's sort of how I look at it. I know right now you're thinking that this girl's just crazy. She's taken the whole point and widdled it down to Kindergarten principles. She doesn't get race. You know what? That's half of it. I don't believe in race. I think it's a completely fake construct created to further separate us and started as a means to differentiate class. A squirrel from Pennsylvania to a squirrel from Michigan to a squirrel from Illinois. As is a man. A squirrel is still a squirrel whether it's gray, brown, black, spotted. A human is a human, ain't no different. To differentiate us by “white man” or “black man” is just adding unnecessary qualifiers. NO QUALIFIERS!!! Even when it came to listening/reading Michael Eric Dyson talk about hip hop was difficult for me because I can't focus about difference when I feel like it's all just the same. Even “white people's” music and pop culture has always been dirty, we just hid it in lengthy wordiness and metaphors. Most of our songs are about pussy and drugs too, people just don't see it that way 'cause it's said different. Just as both genres/cultures have music that is touching and real. I'm really just sayin' that practically everything is the same thing just said/done a little different. People think it means wholey different—it doesn't.

Even though I don't believe race exists, I still can obviously see where the problems lie in Chappelle's everyday work and mission. It's been so long that people have been fed this bullshit and looking at the world wrong. Though I'm sure Dave knows that—it's obvious that he's smart, and how could you not be with both parents being professors? It's asking questions that help us grow and further as individuals.

Michel Gondry directed “Block Party”, which is one of the most confusing things about the doc. I associate him with movies like “Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind” and “The Science of Sleep”. I wonder if Chappelle's ever seen them? It's an interesting thing to ponder on about. Gondry also directed the White Stripes' (otherwise known as my favorite band of all time) music videos. The musical tie to his work was probably what led to his being the director. He's got movie and music video experience, which is exactly what the film was (but live). The man is as white as white gets though. The couple Chappelle also interacts with and throws his block party in front of their home are also very white. That is, if we're taking as “white” as meaning anything at all—stupid qualifiers. Chappelle also comments on the crowd while on stage (eg. Moslty black, 19 white, no Mexicans) but why? Is it because it's the elephant in the room? It makes me also wonder if showing all (and the only?) white people he invited and then also worked with to put it on were somehow trying to level the playing field when it came to the crowd. Was the projected viewer audience a “black audience” or did he try to put it exactly in the middle to actually (though artistically/metaphorically) make a comment on the whole thing. Perhaps that should be left up to you—to me it really doesn't matter much. I only look forward to see what Dave Chappelle will do next.

Extra Credit Post: RIP Jay Reatard

When asked to review something of my own picking—it's almost obvious that I would pick the new obsession in my life. With the internet being so readily available to all it allows for constant musical exploration. We are all constantly discovering new art and entertainment, even if it's surpassed our own years on this Earth. So even if we missed it we can still submerge ourselves in it fully--just what I did with Reatard.

My recent discovery and fascination is with the late great alternative punk rock kid who'd been running around Memphis making music since he was 15. Practically an icon to the punk vinyl producing scene—he somehow slipped past my radar when he was active. Perhaps that is why I'm so torn up about the fact that he's dead. I was in Chicago in 2009 and he didn't pass until 2010. Although he was from Memphis, he did play a show now and then in the windy city.

What turned me on to Jay Reatard was first hearing a song on my buddy Jeff's iPod. I heard it and was instantly down. I've always had a soft spot in my heart for punk rock, so I looked him up as soon as I got home. Before I even got the chance to tune into a video, I came across the 20 minute doc that was mostly interviews with him talking about his home (Memphis, TN) and his music career (which has been lengthy since he's been at it since he was 15), entitled “Waiting for Something”. Listening to his stories and feeling out the person he was made me fall in love with a celebrity—before I even listened to more than one song of his. I suddenly felt like those girls that make collages/memorials for their dead rock star gods—who they also happen to be in love with. We have Elvis, Jim Morrison, Kurt Cobain—all dreamy men who got to our hearts through their music and charm; and then held even higher on the pedestal because they can do no wrong, as they are deceased and can't ruin the reputation of themselves you've come to in the here and now. Perhaps it was the age gap that supposed me from these feelings of remorse and longing. Then Jay Reatard came around and I found my ghost.

Instead of reviewing the rock doc, I decided to review the most recent album, as it will be the most current review that I can possibly do for him (and the band)—“Watch Me Fall”, which was released in 2009. This is one of only two full albums, but don't let that deter you—Reatard actually recorded music all the time. His favorite format was just 45s, so there are a whole lot of 7”s floating around and a couple “singles” albums in an attempt to bring it all together.

“Watch Me Fall” was the album that started to bring Reatard to the top, or as far as a scroungy mop headed boy with a flying v guitar, and a bassist who didn't even know how to play for the first few years. Much like with my rock idol Jack White, Reatard surrounded himself with the people he wanted and then brought the music to them. He wrote it all and gave it to them in an obtainable way so that they could all advance as a unit—even though he himself was the driving force.

The reason the album was so well received was not only its punk rock voice and attitude, but also this completely out there pop element in the undercurrents. This isn't in a predictable youth centered approach like other popular poppunk bands like Blink 182, Green Day, Good Charlotte, Patent Pending (perhaps these are dated examples, as I kicked the pop version for the real thing in the 9^th grade). There's just something more grown up about it, which in itself is an oxymoron.

Individual song wise there are more than less examples that I can give as strong tracks. The only video made on this album was for the track “It Ain't Gonna Save Me” and I could resonate with the ideas because of all the crazy that's gone on in my life as of late. “Before I was Caught” sports a melodic guitar against Reatard's signature voice. “I'm Watching You” is also a good track, ad although the song is less creepy than the title suggests, it definitely acts as a sort of shout out to the younger me. Wounded guitar/drums very mainstream—but not in a bad way. If someone had listened to this song sans vocals (Reatard being what adds edge) they may believe it's a very lovely song. However to the kids out there who want Jay Reatard to be hard and shrill—he still is while simultaneously appealing to the masses. It's almost as though he's adding layers to his old music to welcome an even bigger audience. “Rotten Man” is even different still! I wish I studied/reviewed music more in depth, so I can more effectively convey the many dimensions and influences present in the album—because it truly stuns me. All of this put together only points back to the sad truth: a very talented musician died in 2010.

Non-Columbia Review; Written Oct 20th for I AM LOGAN SQUARE and edited for Reviwing the Arts

With Halloween just around the corner, do you find yourself with a hankerin' for BRAINS? I surely do! Aren't we lucky that The Charnel House is proudly presenting “Musical of the Living Dead” for its sophomore year—right in Logan Square!

If you aren't already familiar with the Charnel House, it's a multi-arts space on Fullerton that actually used to be a funeral home. I am such a sucker for elements like that. It just makes it even better. Both super cool and spooky, right? The lovely building makes the perfect home this zombie musical!

I had the pleasure of attending opening night last Thursday—and it was a bloody good time! Other than knowing it was a musical about zombies, I had no idea what to expect when I arrived that rainy evening. The first two rows of the audience were wearing ponchos—which made me think immediately, “Splatter Zone!” And boy was I right! I was pleased as a pea in a pod filled with other like minded peas, these people got how funny gore can be. I recorded over a over a dozen blood squirts and a handful of water splashes making it into the audience. Every time there was an effect, the audience would roar with laughter. It was fantastic. Within the first five minutes there were literally guffaws coming out of the entire crowd—and not just because it's BYOB!

The storyline often mirrors that of the zombie films' origins, the 1968 blockbuster, Night of the Living Dead. Ten individuals are stuck together in a house during the zombie takeover (said to be caused by Peruvian rat monkeys) and the inevitable happens. How many will die? Well that you'll just have to find out yourself! Musical of the Living Dead even went the extra mile in Romero references, being set in Western Pennsylvania with heavy mention on the Monroeville Mall and several cast wearing Steelers hats. As a zombie-lovin', Pittsburgh native this little attention to detail made the musical even sweeter for me. Like I could even review this badly after that? Not that I could. I don't even like musicals and this show made its way into my heart—sucking the blood right out of it.

The cast and writing provide the perfect marriage of clever lines and a little wiggle room for improvisation; from what I've heard it's not exactly the same show every night. So expect the quirky one-liners and the the “buckets” of blood to fluctuate and morph as the nights progress. Original songs were sung loud and proud with lyrics that are not child appropriate, but made all adults giggle, like when the girl scout sings, “I'm gonna eat your tongue, so you shut the f*** up”. So if crude humor, horror, pop culture references, and musicals all happen to be your thing—this may have been made for you. Even the character names (besides dialog) poke fun, our main character being Ben Blackman, who is indeed the only black cast member and character. Oh, and even the intermission music was spot on, with Michael Jackson's Thriller, Lady Gaga's Bad Romance, and Rob Zombie's Dragula. Talk about legit. Original post here.

Photos by Jacquelyn Peterman.

Barthes and the Wood Wick Candle

No longer are we in the times of appreciation for fire and its history. For at one time this simple thing, a spark and catch of flame to burn, was once our only light beyond the darkness that followed day. Fire was one of man's very first inventions, and made way for the modern world through constant technological advancement. Often we forget how long it's been with us, lighting the faces of our ancestors as they shared personal history and faith among one another. Hopefully the appreciation for this major feat and adoration for the object itself is not lost in the digital age—where all we need to illuminate the darkness is a silent florescent buzz of a computer screen.

Let us start with its appearance before the wick is lit asunder. It stands, both stall and bold with a wooden top with the words “Wood Lights” etched in calligraphy. The cylindrical candle is in a glass holder with vertical uneven carvings going up the sides. As if this one candle is unlike the rest in its uneven outer terrain, expressing the very aesthetic that the scent conveys—Patchouli Woods. This is a smell of hippies in the woods—literally. As if the buyer is instantly one with nature and Mother Earth, as if all the evils of the mature and misguided world were put at ease with a campfire in the middle of no where. As if lighting this vessel will somehow save us from losing our fleeting past. Perhaps it's already happened and the key to staying alive and human is in the furthering of the past and not inventing of the future. I present to you, an invention of both clever and considerate appeal—the wooden wick candle.

The first thing I notice upon lighting it is that the wooden wick catches the flame much faster than the standard candle wick. It also emits a crackling coo to calm the nerves and transport the viewer to a camp fire on a chilly autumn night. Who could not appreciate this sentiment? The aroma is cleaner than expected, as if Barnes himself had set up this play: Knocking down the viewer with a scent/word like patchouli—to almost separate the masses. That is, between those who like patchouli and the rest of the world who despises it. I imagine, as I waft the heated air towards my nostrils, that even the latter would appreciate this clean but wooded experience the candle provides.

Already a half an hour into its life the wax is barely melted, and pools, now liquid, around the wick, only about ¾ inch in radius. Thank you for staying with me dear friend, it appears your life span may last many a lonely dark evening. Isn't that your purpose? For in today's technological advancements we no longer need fire to see, no longer need it to cook to eat. Then what purpose does it serve to us—all who want for nothing because we have everything. A friend perhaps? I am brought back to the movie “The Princess and the Goblin”, where a light and a song would protect against the terrors that lurk in the shadows. Maybe, just maybe, that is what this candle is meant to do. Metaphorically speaking, of course.

Ways of Seeing: I Have a Personalized Nest

My space is something that's really important to me. I'm not talking like wide open spaces that can be measured in miles or liters. I'm talking about aesthetic space--the physical changes you make to a place around you to put your mark on and make home. Home is a big deal to me. Before I had even put my things in boxes to move to my new place, I had already painted the walls. Not only had I picked a warm yellow that looked like the inner petals of a dandelion, but I got a bright sky blue for the kitchen area. Already I've stretched the space out, and found even more work to do on myself, given the incredibly easy canvas (only a studio).

I think that I hold such importance in having my own space because from ages 8-14, every other week I spent at my grandmother's house, where my mom and I lived after she and my dad split. We shared a room and a bed while we stayed with my gram. So when I got my own space I went all out—and thankfully my taste in home furnishings hasn't changed since I was 15. I've always been a visual learner and connected with paintings and illustrations. Every piece of the space is me. When you look at it all together it's like a snapshot of who I am and I always want people to see it because it explains me so well.

Whenever people come over they instantly use the word “homey”, and that's what I go for. I take everything I love and plaster it about. I love creating an aesthetic space, and have successfully created a cohesive flow. It is because nothing matches that everything matches. With such a variety of colors and pattern, it is easy to find ones that match up and communicate with the other, only inches away from that piece of art, and then there's another.

Most of my belongings are older than I am and have been in my collection for years. Some since my single digits. What can I say? I came from a family of thrift store goers, yard sale finders and charity rummage sale throwers. On my walls are tapestries of assorted colored paintings and sketches from secondhand stores that many of my associates in the art world wouldn't appreciate. We live in such a pretentious time now. Art is when someone makes something--it's when a craftsmen takes time and skill to make these things. Even if it doesn’t have some far fetched political message behind it doesn't mean that it isn't worth time; it's especially worth the money (often ranging from $.25 to $25).

It's important to be inspired by the things around you, and I take to heart what John Berger says about taking pieces and placing them in a way to create a certain feeling. We create our own way of seeing, and in my place it smacks you in the face. Everything is context and it's all in how you connect it—and I believe almost anything can be connected with a little bit of creativity.

A couple pieces in further detail: Next to my bed adorned with bright yellow and black flowered quilt is an antique lamp filled with gold glitter. Next to it a somewhat abstract print of a woman with flowers in/as her hair. My mother always collected photos/art of women and I've taken after. Above it a small painting of the country side—yellow and black wildflowers take up the entire foreground. It's a little remembrance of home and the beauty that you forget about in the city. Then a painting on canvas that I a good friend traded me in exchange for a diamond pattern tie dye tapestry I had made. Art for art, and trading is something I've always been a hug fan of. With so many people having so many various skills—it only makes sense to network and exchange. Fuck money—we can even get on without it. But that's just a little bit radical. A huge embroidered patch of sunflowers is to the left of the art and lamp. I acquired it at a flea market back in Pittsburgh, five bucks. Lastly, one of my all time favorite belongings: a functioning traffic light. My step mom bought a crappy junked up traffic light top from a dj she met. She then gave it to my Pap-paw (grandfather) and he refurbished the whole damn thing, even going the extra mile to build a matching base. However, the base is made of steel (Go Stillers! LOL) and therefore makes it insanely heavy. I always seem to move to the top floor too—making the move quit e a silly task. When asked why he had built it out of steel he replied, “Well gee I hadn't thought you'd still have the damn thing, and bring it all the way to Chicago”. He made it for me when I was like 14. Keep in mind this lengthy description doesn't even cover half of one wall. You feel me?

Living Out Loud

Opening with an intense discussion between a couple about their relationship and honing in questions of being faithful, “Living Out Loud” paints a portrait true to a failing marriage right off the bat. Then the viewer gets to listen in on inner monologue, kicking off the present day scene. The (ex)wife sits eating cereal, consumed in the worries of terrorists, crack babies and the sinking reality of not being able to do a thing about the crumbling world, and the scene manages to be incredibly relatable—even in a pre-9/11 New York City setting.

Holly Hunter plays a recently divorced upper class woman in her 40's living in New York City, dealing with the fact her husband left her for a younger doctor, while she's only a nurse. While she focused her past life on getting her ex husband through medical school, she realizes she's now left with no children, friends, love interest, or fulfilling career as she is also constantly aging—she becomes hopeless. In reality her life is just fresh for the molding. Then comes Danny Devito's character, the big idea, gambling door man with a heart of gold and the looks of an Italian troll. Finally out of her haze of a wasted life she notices him and their unlikely friendship takes off. They share nasty ex stories, good times, life advice, and even a drugged kiss, all of which leads to Devito's character having more feelings for Hunter than she him. We never want what we need—self destructive little buggers we are. The writing is true to this. Her inner monologue is often alluding to the many terrors in a world of blatant miss-communication, showing how it's easy to get frustrated and up in your head.

Written and directed by Richard LaGravenese, the melancholy sappy mastermind that brought us “PS I Love You” and “The Little Princess”, “Living Out Loud” was sure to boast both in depth self examination and the most bittersweet moments we face in life. I mean Jesus, I've cried with no shame at movements in both of the aforementioned films. Although “Living” lacked in the tear jerker department, it made up for it with a true to life glimpse into an unlikely pair's friendship and a random dance scene—say what??

Several times throughout the film, the protagonist reading Edith Wharton's“The House of Mirth”, the book of which the film slightly mirrors. Both feature a female lead whose life comes to shambles as she tumbles down the upper class social ladder, and has to choose between a life of security in a relationship with love and respect or the thrills and adventure of a single life—where anything can lie beyond that door. And whoa, it just happens to be a random man packing a passionate kiss in the shadows. Perhaps my cynicism clouded the surprise make-out scene's charm but I thought it was one of the silly farfetched quirks that be-bopped through the film.

Overall “Living” shows many of life's little nuggets of happiness that show through even in the dreariest of times. Some would consider the ending a bummer, but I didn't. Life happens and the decisions you make take you places, even if it's not the storybook ending it's still someplace new and you're probably a bigger person for it, just as Hunter's character seemed in the end. Many moments, like the apparent eye contact that characters held proved to speak so much for the overall feel. Nowadays, (since the movie was made in 1998) many of us are lost in the digital world. “Living” captured many shots with believably intimate moments through holding of the gaze. Despite its couple flaws: an awkward and long dance scene, unlikely closet romance encounter, partially confusing alternate scenario cuts, and high demand for Queen Latifah that it left me with, I would still add this title to my DVD collection. Now you're all like, wait say whaaaa', Latifa was in that movie ? I feel ya on that one; her character development throughout the film left so much to be desired. Even so, it's worth digging up if ya got the means and feel like having a true and honest look at life—in all of its exciting uncertainties and possibilities.

Dwelling C33 Gallery

The new show up in the C33 gallery on the Columbia College Chicago campus explores a wide variety of both the comforts and terrors of home. What makes home? Is it the people who dwell along with you, the projects that take up space from years of collecting dust, the memories of all times you had there, or even mental snapshots of what’s gone by and come up so far? Each artist thought something else when the concept of dwelling was put out there. It could be as dark and mysterious as Austin Swearengin’s piece entitled “Finding a Way In”. The sculpture isn’t recognizable as a house or shelter, but rather a sailboat shaped box with no entrance or exit. This leaves the viewer either interested with wonder or fed up with an artist or curator’s “concept”. With any exhibit there’s the possible problem of whether or not the viewer will get the art or the “big idea”. This may have been the largest problem the show faced.

“Memory Archive” was less abstract and was a full wall of snapshots that made the viewer feel like home. It's hard to not be cynical at this. Why are there s many images? Where there not few enough that were strong enough to stand on their own or even in sets, that the artist had to just put up the whole roll? At least this piece was receivable. I'm sure there wasn't a soul that walked by and though, “Am I not getting this?”

Although not all work can be as to the point as Anna Peter’s memory archive, some of the pieces left the viewer completely at a loss. For instance, in Carrie Schneider’s family videos, the subject is older and featured in her mother’s arms in one and having her hair washed by her father in the other. Are these family videos reshot with the child now of adult age? Is there something wrong with the girl that these tasks are being completed for her? Is there some sort of incest theme that’s supposed to be going on? I couldn't have been the only one to think this—so was the point of the piece lost because I'm asking myself so many damn questions? That's what I'm thinking.

Ginny Hou’s “Corrugated Roof” also left you wondering what exactly was roof like about the structure at all. You leave the mind completely up to the viewer with little subtext and you have a very weirded out audience. At the same time, many works of art are not meant to have some huge theme. Sometimes it's just enough for it to provide the viewer with an emotion, a certain “je n'este pas” can help art go a long way. “Roof” made me want to crawl underneath the accordion folded paper, into the fetal position and just listen to the call of birds. Come to think of it, that exactly what “Dwelling” can be.”

The heavy audio visual elements and abstract concepts of the show made it about 3 stars in my book. Opinion is everything and “Dwelling” is different for everyone in very different place. So do these could elements make the show fail? Not if you had enough pieces to rope the viewer in and still make ‘em reflect. So go on and reflect kids.

Stephanie Del Monte, Untitled, 2010

Thumbs Up/Thumbs Down

Thumbs Up:

Detroit Rock City

Rock it out kids. Detroit Rock City, a feel good film about a high school cover band trying to get to a KISS show in (where do you think?) Detroit! There's chicks, rule breakin', great characters and rock and roll. Sadly this flick may not even be on your radar. The movie came out in 1999, so this R rated masterpiece may not have been allowed in your household as kids—because you know what KISS stands for right? “Knights in Satan’s Service!” Detroit Rock City follows the misadventures of a dastardly bunch of four teenage boys, who CAN NOT get stiffed out of seeing KISS for the third year in a row. Sounds easy enough right? Wrong. Shit-storms for all four of them until the very end, when you as the viewer are as psyched out as you can possibly be because of each dude's epic win. And it has the best sound track ever to boot—all of those well-known sing along classic rock songs. What else could one ask for?

Watch the trailer here :)

Thumbs Down:

Mean People

Who decided it makes a better day to just shit on all the people around you? No one! The amount of effort and energy it takes to be an asshole could be better used on any other constructive activity. Start planning your own business, take yoga, order food, read a book, tell a joke, or just take a hit of that bowl—whatever suits your fancy. Why would you want to even bother with being a douche? It's a waste of time! Have fun and enjoy life instead of be a sourpuss whose only aspiration is to make those around you feel like less of the person. Learn some respect. I know it’s hard not to caddy at times--what with all the backstabbers and trash on reality TV. We shouldn't be those people, don’t be like those people! Shit. All it’s doing is allowing for crappy attitudes and behaviors that breeding a circle of nastiness. Now those assholes on TV are all the dolla' dolla' bills--happy with that?

photos found here