#all he has are business. robotics. marketing. and theater degrees

[william-askton-1932]

Says the murderer

It's not murder if it's for science.

[cherryblossomsandhydrangeas]

Headcanon that Adam, Cherry, and Joe are all probably double or even triple majors.

Joe

Majors: Italian Culinary Arts, Restaurant/Hotel Management, & either Business Administration, European History w/ a Mediterranean focus, or Japanese History

Possible Minors: Entrepreneurship, Nutrition, Hospitality Business, Philosophy, Marketing, or Sociology

Joe obviously studied in Italian culinary arts/cuisine, but he would have also have had to study in restaurant/hotel management since he runs Sia La Luce. Restaurant/Hotel management is a trade that takes two years of study, and it takes at least a year to learn Italian cuisine at an accredited school. If he were to have a third major, I believe he would have went into business, but I’m willing to believe that Joe is a history buff as he was the one who brought up the Battle of Ganryuujima before Langa’s first beef with Adam.

Also, on a different note,  I’d like to think that Joe spent at minimum of three to fours years in Italy, before returning to Naha as that would give him more time to learn the hang of working in a restaurant as he probably got a job in one to pay for food and possibly rent if he got an apartment.

--

Cherry

Majors: Programming, Computer Science & Engineering, & either Business Administration, Information Technology, Art History, or Fine Arts

Possible Minors: Creative Writing, Business Writing, Applied Mathematics, Bioinformatics, Robotics

Cherry obviously studied programming, but he would have also needed to have knowledge of engineering to create a transforming skateboard, bracelet, contacts, and a wheelchair that are all connected to the AI he created. He may have a degree in business since in episodes one, two, and six he was shown dealing with a bunch different people for work, but that could also have been gleaned some simple networking skills. Since he’s loved calligraphy since he was a kid, it’s not too out of the way that he may have went into either art history or fine arts as well.

Since calligraphy isn’t a college degree, more a skill you learn from discipline and learning under a master, it’s not included in the above. But I’d imagine that he’d probably been practicing his calligraphy for years before learning under a master for a while before starting his own studio.

--

Adam

Majors: Political Science, Public Administration, Economics, or Communications & either Art History, Theology, or Theater/Dance

Possible Minors: International Business, Philosophy, Public Relations, or Criminal Justice

There are a lot of degrees that Adam could have gone into with his job as a politician, so I chose the ones with skills that were shown most in the show. He has a silver tongue and was easily able to become the leader of his party- with a little backstabbing- despite being the youngest politician of them. His charisma was also shown to be great both in public and at “S”. As for the others, I’ve often wondered how Adam was able to get into learning Flamenco as it seems to something that he personally enjoys and not something his aunts forced him into learning, so I can’t help but think he went into a Theater/Dance major as a small loophole so that he could learn something that he actually liked and wanted to do. I don’t have to explain why I think he majored in Theology.

So what do you guys think? I’d love to talk about some other ideas.

[thefederalistfreestyle]

[. . .] I picked a date in mid-September. There was nothing available at the box office, but there were plenty of tickets on the secondary market. At Ticketmaster they ranged from $400 and $1,800. SeatGeek had tickets from $360 to $2,593. StubHub didn't have tickets, but it was selling "Hamilton" parking passes for $40. (I kid you not.) In other words, prices were better, but still not great for anyone hoping to pay face value to see the show. It doesn't take a degree in economics to understand what is going on here. The Richard Rodgers Theatre, where Hamilton resides, has 1,319 seats. But the demand for tickets vastly exceeds that number. The market is saying that "Hamilton" tickets are worth two or three times more than the producers are charging. If you actually do have a degree in economics, the answer probably seems simple: "Hamilton's" producers should raise ticket prices to capture the market price. Last October, the Harvard economist N. Gregory Mankiw wrote in the New York Times that he paid $2,500 for a "Hamilton" ticket and was "happy about it." The tickets, he added, were "vastly underpriced" and his only regret about paying a four-figure sum was that the money was going to scalpers instead of the show's producers, actors and investors. "I would much rather give that money to Lin-Manuel so he can put on more shows and make the theater healthier," he told me when we spoke recently. "That's the classic laissez-faire right-wing economic view," sighed Jeffrey Seller, the veteran theater producer whom the Times described last year as the CEO of Hamilton Inc. In his view — indeed, in the view of virtually everyone in the theater business — sucking every last penny out of every last ticket has as much downside as upside. Seller wants people who can't afford $1,000 tickets to be able to see the show. He doesn't want the zeitgeist to turn against "Hamilton" because it is so expensive. He would really like to be in control of how much people pay. "My job is to balance getting a great return for our investors with what we believe is our responsibility to the community," he said. (Not to worry: Even without maximizing ticket prices, "Hamilton" is making an estimated $600,000 a week in profit.) What seemed particularly unfair, in Seller's mind, was the use of software bots, which give ticket brokers an insurmountable edge over humans trying to buy tickets. Indeed, thanks to the Hamilton-generated publicity bots have received, both the federal government and New York State passed laws last year outlawing the software for ticket buying. Miranda even wrote an op-ed urging New York to act, saying, "You shouldn't have to fight robots just to see something you love." There is another way to rebalance supply and demand, of course — expand the supply. I've often wondered why Seller didn't solve the problem by simply renting a second Broadway theater and hiring a second cast. Alas, every theater person I spoke to thought it was a crazy idea. "I don't see why anyone would be motivated to do that," said Tom Viertel, a well-known Broadway producer. "You'd have to spend $8 million to $10 million, and you'd be competing with yourself." Seller told me that if "Hamilton" had a second cast, "the show wouldn't be as special." And, he added, ticket-holders would be confused about which theater they were supposed to go to. Well, maybe. But if you were truly interested in allowing the largest number of people to see "Hamilton" at a reasonable price, using a second theater to double the number of seats makes more sense than trying to drive a stake through the heart of the bot industry. But it's an experiment that will clearly have to wait for another day. Although I'm generally a fan of the free market, I'm also sympathetic to the idea that theater producers — and concert promoters, and Major League Baseball owners — ought to be able to sell tickets at a price of their choosing, and that profit maximization shouldn't always be the sole goal. "It's not a simple application of supply and demand," says Larry Lucchino, the former chief executive of the Boston Red Sox, a team that sold out every home game between 2003 and 2013. "The availability and accessibility of tickets to various socioeconomic groups is important to your brand building and longevity." [. . .] Gregory Mosher, the producer of such shows as "Six Degrees of Separation" and "Swimming to Cambodia," told me that he had brought up the subject of "Hamilton" and tickets in the acting class he teaches at Columbia University. Most of the students hadn't seen "Hamilton" because of its cost, and they all wanted lower ticket prices. So Mosher threw out this idea: set aside 200 cut-rate seats each night for people in the profession. Then he asked, "If you could resell your ticket for $1,000, how many of you would do it?" Every hand went up. Turns out, it's not easy to sidestep the law of supply and demand.

Will 'Hamilton' tickets ever be less expensive? (Chicago Tribune)

“simply renting a second Broadway theater”

HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA  

[businessliveme]

Museum of Future Experiences Uses VR for Mind-Expanding Trips

(Bloomberg) — If you find day-to-day reality terrifying, I’ve found a cure. The Museum of Future Experiences, which opened last week in New York’s SoHo neighborhood and runs through the end of August, is the latest millennial “museum” to pop up, but it’s not one for taking selfies in front of colorful backdrops and sharing them on social media. Instead, visitors wear a virtual-reality-inducing Oculus S headset and prepare to have their minds blown.

The museum is the brainchild of Bridgewater hedge fund alum David Askaryan, 32, who came up with the idea after realizing that virtual reality had failed to take off, not because of the actual technology, but because of a business model that mistakenly assumed people were going to buy VR headsets for their personal use.

View this post on Instagram

mo·fe (/ˈmōfē/): Museum of Future Experiences

A post shared by Museum of Future Experiences (@this.must.be.mofe) on Jul 30, 2019 at 7:42am PDT

“Most VR companies relied on a consumer infrastructure that isn’t there,” he says. “Virtually nobody has a VR headset at home.” Consumer VR software investments dropped off a cliff in 2018, down 59% to $173 million, from $420 million a year earlier, according to SuperData, a digital games and VR market-research company owned by Nielsen Holdings.

Askaryan’s solution was to create a museum experience—which comes with the cute nickname MoFE—using VR in set locations for short periods of time. He describes it as “a curated cerebral experience blending immersive theater, psychology, and virtual reality for an intimate exploration of individual and collective consciousness.” It’s funded by prestigious tech accelerator Y Combinator; tickets, which are purchased ahead of time, are $50 for an hour.

Kent Bye, host of the Voices of VR Podcast, sees potential in a model that creates spaces where individuals can test-drive VR, instead of buying their own $400 headsets. “More and more people want to be immersed into their entertainment,” he says. “I think we’re going to start seeing more people putting their body into these experiences.”

Especially millennials. A study by Harris Group found 72% of people in this generation prefer to spend money on experiences than on material things. Jeremy Bailenson, founding director of Sanford University’s Virtual Human Interaction Lab and an adviser to MoFE, says VR can be a tool “to help people think about themselves and how they relate to others.”

MoFE is not the first location-based VR experience. Tribeca Film Festival has a virtual arcade and a 360-degree theater, and at the Franklin Institute in Philadelphia visitors can use VR headsets to dive into the ocean or soar through the solar system.

Entertainment destination VR World in New York allows customers to use Oculus or HTC Vive headsets for video games, flight simulations, or movies, starting at $44 for two hours. “I consider VR to be the most impactful medium known to man,” says VR World Chief Executive Officer Leo Tsimmer. “We’re not looking at marking technology or marketing headsets. We’re in the business of entertaining and of creating fun times for friends.”

Gabriela Baiter, founder of experiential retail studio Whereabout, agrees. “I think it’s a result of people just craving human connection,” she says about the trend of location-based VR. “We’re starting to become more interested in getting out there and interacting with other people.”

I’d never tried VR before, and my video game expertise is limited to dodging banana peels in Mario Kart. Askaryan says that’s the point: “It opens up VR to a whole new set of customers.” So on a blisteringly hot Friday afternoon, I arrived with five others to “explore our individual and collective consciousness” in SoHo, itself a land where Instagram photos and Snapchat filters are valued as much as anything visible in real life.

The experience breaks down into roughly four 15-minute intervals. Once inside the loft space, we’re informed—three times—that it previously served as a workspace for Andy Warhol. After a receptionist inquires, rather ominously it sounds to me, if we’re ready for our mind-altering experience, we’re greeted by museum actors dressed in full white lab technician outfits worn under a clear plastic gown resembling a garment bag. It’s mad scientist-meets-futuristic time traveler, a look enhanced by their slicked-back hair. They warn us to inform them if our emotions overwhelm us and we need to take a break.

The actors lead our group to a downstairs room, where we’re seated in a circle with our backs to each other and given a paper and a pencil. We’re asked a series of 21 questions, to which we record our answers like an elementary school spelling test. The inquiries start off simple: How anxious are we on a scale of 1 to 10? (I was a 4 earlier in the day, a 10 now.) Then they rapidly progress into more uncertain territory: Did we regularly converse with any dead family members? Have we had an out-of-body experience? Were we worried about artificial intelligence destroying the world?

We submit these “prescriptions” and line up single file for our personalized VR immersion in the next room. Then we’re seated in partitioned booths and strap on Zorro-style black sanitary masks before the technicians help us situate the clunky VR headsets on our heads.

The images are supposed to be tailored to you, based on answers to the previous questionnaire. I must have done something wrong, because my screen shows a menacing female robotic figure who slowly emerges from a sewer system as she repeats the words “Do you remember the feeling of being watched as a child?”

I’ve never done LSD, but I imagine this is its effect in the mind of someone extraordinarily uncreative. After 10 minutes, the technician comes in and tells us to take a moment to let any insights sink in. I rack my brain for any memories of strangers peering through the window of my childhood bedroom.

I expect another immersive experience to soon follow, but the technicians then lead us to an adjacent room, leaving me to work out this newly introduced trauma with a qualified therapist. The passageway is lined with white gauze that drapes onto a small stage with six orange reclining chairs that look like something a dentist would use for the world’s worst dental canal.

This time they strap a sensor to our chests that could vibrate in sync with our VR experience. For this session, all six of us experience the same virtual reality, which is a walk through an unidentifiable cityscape with glowing orange flames in the distance. The blaze slowly grows larger until it swallows the sky in a tornado of fiery destruction.

The technicians tell us these images are an amalgamation of the group’s inner thoughts. I decide then and there to never see any of these people again.

To decompress from the immersion, we go back upstairs into a sitting area with cushioned beanbags. In one corner of the room is a small table with a single drawer and a gold sculpture of a thumbs-up signal, encircled by clear plastic curtain panels and illuminated by ceiling lights.

Each of us receives a “relic” in the table’s drawer, which is a postcard with an image to commemorate our journey. Mine features multiple colorful birds, looking much more peaceful than I felt.

In a circle, our group discusses the immersion and compares the images we saw with a mixture of daze and confusion. Evidently, I was the only one to see a robotic figure informing me of previously unacknowledged childhood terror—everyone else relaxed in a meadow or flew through white puffy clouds.

The entire experience from start to finish took about an hour, but our time with the VR headsets lasted only a combined 20 minutes. Although I’d expected a bit more time with it, in the end, maybe it was for the best.

Askaryan’s business model has potential—especially for someone who would never dream of shelling out $400 for a headset. But I’ve never been so happy to walk out into the reality of 98-degree heat in New York City.

The post Museum of Future Experiences Uses VR for Mind-Expanding Trips appeared first on Businessliveme.com.

from WordPress https://ift.tt/2MtnxsU via IFTTT

[micaramel]

Artist: Nikolas Gambaroff

Venue: The Kitchen, New York

Curated by: Tim Griffin with Lumi Tan

Date: November 2 – December 16, 2017

Click here to view slideshow

Full gallery of images, press release and link available after the jump.

Images:

Images courtesy of the artist

Press Release:

The Kitchen is proud to present artist Nikolas Gambaroff’s first solo exhibition in New York, which takes early 20th-century Austrian satirist/playwright Karl Kraus’s theatrical workThe Last Days of Mankind as its point of departure. Penned during World War I, the political piece was notoriously impossible to perform, consisting of 213 scenes and, more pointedly, steeped in satirical, expressionistic writing verging on the grotesque—underlining Kraus’s sense that the language of his time was being torn from its indexical grounding in order to fuel blind nationalism and bigotry. Such dystopian themes are disarmingly resonant in our own cultural moment, when public discourse is forced to grapple with questions of “fake news” and click-bait, and when distributive algorithms on social media platforms likeFacebook and Twitter are continually disrupting language’s stable relationship with reality. In this exhibition of painting,sculpture, and video—in addition to mobile telepresence robots that mimic and mirror the behavior of viewers—Gambaroff considers anew the question of language in jeopardy, and explores how art (in all its potential ambiguity) might place itself when the very possibility for coherent, shared meaning in the public sphere seems tenuous at best.

Since the early 2010s, Gambaroff has frequently engaged the power of media infrastructures to shape culture, taking textuality as his connective theme and medium: The artist’s painting and sculptural objects have often included frenetically overlapping bits of newspaper that swell and tear into altered forms. For this new work at The Kitchen, Gambaroff expands on this practice, turning his thematic gaze specifically toward social media’s role as a polarizing carrier of information that impacts both discursive and physical space. His gallery installation of painted collage and sculpture features two areas separated by a painted theatrical backdrop, effectively creating doubled renditions of a single scenario, between which viewers can move. Many paintings still employ the artist’s nonfigurative style—with newspaper used pervasively as material—while his new figurative sculptural work summons the characters and modernist context of Kraus’s play. Yet the seeming remoteness of that cultural moment from our own is closed by Gambaroff’s mobile devices, which perambulate the space and, in an accompanying video, The Kitchen theater.

As Gambaroff says, he is interested in how different mediations of the same thing can split the world into binary camps, given that “language is tied to the systems we use, which start, over time, changing our behavior.” Indeed, this idea originally drew him to Kraus’s scathing fifteen-hour play, which opens with a meticulous media satire before depicting a fantastical societal landscape. (Notably, Kraus envisioned his day’s popular press as opportunistic facilitator of war, and the militaristic attitude of populist media would become central to Kraus’s apocalyptic critique.) In such passages, the author used the words of media outlets against them, withThe Last Days of Mankind largely composed of found text.Yet if Kraus would suggest that language’s dislocation from meaning in such contexts necessarily dislocates our sense of reality, here Gambaroff offers an aesthetic proposition for such dislocations in real space, acknowledging parallels between Kraus’s time and the Trump era at the same time as suggesting the degree to which such binary realities are already apparent in everyday life.

  Who in every place they impose their presence Despoil creation’s very essence; Who torment beasts and enslave humanity; Who honor shame and shame morality; Who gorge the bad and butcher the good; Who despise the very virtue in their blood, But use it to cover up greed and excession; Who violate intellect, reason, expression, And language itself just by speaking their thoughts; Who have opened the hereafter up to exports; Who send art, God, the Devil, the dead earth itself To hawk products on a department store shelf. Who hide what life means with the means of subsistence; Who make mass production the end of existence; Who are slaves to expanding their output and sales; Who corrupt their being and pay with their souls; Who market themselves as their own market forces And brawl with their neighbors for natural resources. Who wield hatred and envy as business allies Until gold’s toxic glitter burns out their eyes…

—Karl Kraus, from The Last Days of Mankind

  Nikolas Gambaroff was born in Germany in 1979, and currently lives and works in New York and Los Angeles. He studied at the University of the Arts in Berlin, and received an MFA from Bard College in New York in 2007. Recent solo exhibitions include Overduin &. Co., Los Angeles, Meyer Kainer in Vienna, Gio Marconi in Milan, The Power Station in Dallas, White Cube in London. Gambaroff’s work has been included in exhibitions at the Museum of Modern Art in New York, the Whitney Museum of American Art in New York, the Institute of Contemporary Art in London, the Museum of Contemporary Art in Chicago, the New Museum in New York, Kunsthalle Zurich, Bergen Kunsthalle, Fondazione Sandretto Re Rebaudengo in Turin, and Künstlerhaus Halle fur Kunst in Graz.

Link: Nikolas Gambaroff at The Kitchen

Contemporary Art Daily is produced by Contemporary Art Group, a not-for-profit organization. We rely on our audience to help fund the publication of exhibitions that show up in this RSS feed. Please consider supporting us by making a donation today.

from Contemporary Art Daily http://bit.ly/2DWPqmb