wandering-izzy

[wandering-izzy]

The Manifesto of Retrospect

Retrospection is defined by the Merriam-Webster dictionary as “the act or process or an instance of surveying the past.” Retrospection requires not only knowledge of the past, but active analysis and reflection. This analysis and reflection often works to aid us in our current and future endeavors, as the lessons the past can teach us are innumerable. 

As humans our interests change over time, and we often forget things that we have left by the wayside. We leave these things behind sometimes out of anger, or out of growth, or sadness; just as often, though, we leave them behind without trying.

The manifesto of retrospect is as follows: analyzing relics of our personal pasts can offer new revelations about our present situation, state of mind, and values, and should not be disregarded simply as dwelling on old times.

Beginning with my analysis of Love Like a Sunset by Phoenix, my choice to pick a song that had been dear to me nearly 10 years ago when I was still a high school student instilled this theme in my works moving forward, seemingly by accident. This song has occupied space in my mind in the following years, but when analyzed for this assignment, I was shown new clarity about my current life; at the time I listened to this song, I had never had a relationship, and at present, I am in a five year long relationship that nearly ended by my hand two years ago. Revisiting the themes presented by this song helped me better appreciate my current healthy relationship, and cherish it while it’s here, something I would have been less likely to notice had I not given this piece the retrospective glance I did.

In my analysis of sculpture, my choice of Withstanding Presence, a piece at a local library came as a surprise. At the time of the assignment, I had struggled to muster up a single place where I could remember seeing a statue or sculpture nearby until I remembered the library. Due to several moves and changes in life circumstances, I’ve not been a patron of this facility for years. My writing on this piece called to attention how well the piece synergizes with the theme of enduring education put forth by the university of which the library belongs, and tying into that, the fact that it was a place I’d been attending since I was a young child reinforces this. The whole experience of visiting the library and performing this analysis forced me to revisit my old habits: I was an avid young reader, reading almost non-stop in my spare time from grade 4 through my early college years at my first university. Reflecting on this, I was forced to confront my current less mentally healthy habit of using social media to drown out my otherwise unfathomably loud thoughts.

My writing on The Mortician in San Francisco came almost as a surprise to myself. It was a poem I had never heard of, on a man I had only heard about in passing, with little information about his life or death. I was compelled nevertheless. The history of marginalized communities in the United States is often difficult to find unless you know what you’re looking for. This piece about Harvey Milk, a gay supervisor who advocated for LGBT rights in San Francisco before his assassination tells less about the man and more about the narrator, a gay mortician preparing the dead body of his assassin, Dan White. My lack of knowledge on the subject, on the state of the LGBT community in San Francisco and across the country forced me to do a lot of supplemental research on this assignment. This research forced me to reflect on my past, as a woman with more friends in the LGBT community than I can count, who has had these friends since my formative years, whereas most people cannot say they know a single gay or trans person in real life. This is not the first time I’ve had this awakening, that my experience is not universal, but with the current context of waves of anti-LGBT sentiment sweeping the country, the safety and security of my friends feels more pressing than ever. The retrospective forced me to really look at the measures politicians are trying to put in place to discredit the lives and experience of the people I love, and motivates me to seek more active methods to protect them and their rights.

My short writing piece on a DJ  deciding to try to become a hero to honor her friend’s memory ties heavily into this theme of retrospection itself. The viewpoint character spends her time reminiscing on her past friendship and her regrets, before being presented with an opportunity to prove herself to be more than she thinks. A story about deciding to take the leap and not let bygones be bygones, this piece came from my heart and my current mission of finishing my education.

Looking into our past can be a troubling thing, fraught with regrets and pain and embarrassment at times, but the lessons retrospection can teach us are infinite. We see this in emerging trends of nostalgia and of period pieces that teach us lessons still relevant today. Retrospection is not a task to be neglected, but fully embraced to move more efficiently forward in our lives and creative endeavors.

[wandering-izzy]

Impression, Sunrise

The waves lap softly at the edge of the boat. In the morning fog, to even paddle feels like an assault on the serenity that has settled over the water. His boatman paddles onward, though, as the first blink of light peers over the horizon, through the thick clouds. The sky above them begins to glow, a coral orange that begins dim but overtakes the sky in time, not strong enough to truly burn the clouds around them. They paddle on, as does the boat that drifts past them, almost ghostly in the silent morn. Then finally Apollo appears: the sun, bright and fiery red, shows itself behind the clouds. It burns a line toward them in the water, illuminating vessels unseen. The wake continues to gently rock the boat and as the sun has risen, they paddle on.

---

For this ekphrasis, I chose Impression, Sunrise by Claude Monet, featured on page 82 of our textbook. The murky blue painting is not particularly refined, but the lack of clarity adds to the strong feelings it evokes. The most essential details of the work are the boat in the midground, the sun in the background, and the reflection of the sun on the water in the mid- and foreground. In my writing, I tried to capture these details and the overall feeling of quiet tension that I felt in this painting with my repetition of the movement of paddling, trying to capture the sensation of the passage of time and of watching this sunrise in real time. I feel my ekphrasis draws more attention to the other boats in the painting: the one somewhat defined in the midground, and the blurry ones in the background. I believe my ekphrasis sets a more solid tone of reservation for the piece, where the original leaves itself more open for interpretation.

[wandering-izzy]

Jocko Homo

The video for Jocko Homo, a 1977 track by the band Devo, is an off putting and discomforting confrontation about the current state of humanity and evolution. Beginning with a short spoken section where a man with a mask delivers a paper to a man in what seems like a war room with portraits of famous figures on the walls, it quickly shifts to the main scenes of the video focusing on the singer. Standing in the middle of a group of people seated wearing medical scrubs and goggles, he dances and gestures in time to the music while asking the viewer repeatedly “Are we not men?”, to which the chorus replies “We are devo!” Devo in this case is short for de-evolution, the theme and message of the piece. The most poignant shot of the video is during the musical break into the final chants, as a classroom of similarly dressed medical students are revealed, cheering and dancing along to the beat while wrapped people on tables writhe in an unsettling fashion.

As stated before, the idea of de-evolution is the main message of this song, and the philosophy of the band as well. Rejecting the theory of human evolution into a higher, better state of being for the theory that humans are actually degenerating into lesser-beings, the band asserts this point over and over with the chorus chants. The initial shot as well as the framing of the singer give the visual indicator that they are speaking from points of authority, constantly centered and focused in each shot. Diagonal camera angles from below reinforce this imposition of authority, and make more sense when the broader context of the classroom is revealed.

Ultimately, this piece makes use of powerful camera techniques and blunt questioning to hammer home its message.

[wandering-izzy]

Hamlet Act 1 Scene 3

Act 1, Scene 3 of Hamlet shows a conversation between Ophelia and Laertes about her relationship with Hamlet, a goodbye between Laertes and Polonius as Laertes leaves for abroad, and a conversation between Ophelia and Polonius about Hamlet reiterating caution. For a staging of the scene, I chose this black box theater rendition of the scene by thisisshakespeare on YouTube.

My initial and subsequent readings of the scene gave me the clear impression that both Laertes and Polonius give Ophelia similar advice, with some kind of send off offered by Polonius to Laertes intercutting it, but the staging really solidifies how almost comedic Polonius’ advice really is. More efficiently than reading it off the page myself, the actor of Polonius in this staging really hammers home the advice of a father to his son, lecturing on all the correct ways to act while constantly amending his own advice. As well, the staging provided a better indication of Ophelia and Laertes’ tones in the initial conversation than I had interpreted. In my mind, Ophelia’s statements to her brother in lines 45 to 50 were more seriously delivered, but the actress in the scene gives the lines a much more animated, almost teasing tone more closely expected of a sibling dynamic.

The stage is a simple black box setup, with no dressing or props, which allow the focus to remain solely on the characters. Their outfits are an odd mix, with more period style pieces for Laertes and Ophelia compared to the more modern styled coat of Polonius. However, personally I thought this added to his wise-elder affectation, like a dad who can’t help but lecture his kids.

I chose Act 1, Scene 3 of Hamlet out of curiosity over the character of Ophelia. While I’m more familiar with the character of Hamlet and the general plot of the play, I’ve heard a lot of songs and popular media that fixate on the character of Ophelia and wanted to explore myself.

[wandering-izzy]

Dr. Strangelove (1964) and Arrival (2016)

Dr. Strangelove or: How I Learned to Stop Worrying and Love the Bomb (1964) is a satirical film about the Cold War, Soviet relations during that time, and fears of nuclear annihiliation. The plot of the movie is based around a US General Ripper who, upon going mad with paranoia about the Soviet Union, makes the sole decision to send nuclear bombers to attack. This sets off a chain of events in which multiple characters on base with Ripper and at the War Room in Washington D.C. are analyzing how to stop the bombers which can only be contacted by Ripper, or how to utilize this impromptu attack in their favor against the Soviets. The titled Dr. Strangelove is a former German Nazi scientist working in the War Room with the American officials advising in this situation while making slips about his obviously still held Nazi beliefs. The movie ends with the officials unable to stop the attack of one of the bombers, and with a Soviet doomday plan further ensuring a nuclear holocaust thst would make the surface of the earth unihabitable, while a romantic tune plays over footage of nuclear explosion test footage. It’s an excellent cut film by writer/director/producer Stanley Kubrick, with black humor that draws well on the fears of the era while brazenly cracking jokes over them, like the end sequence where the bomber pilot rides the bomb down to his death while cheering and hollering. 

Arrival (2016) is a dramatic film in which Dr. Louise Banks and Dr. Ian Donelly are tasked by the US military to help translate the writing of an alien race that has set down 12 ships in different locations across the world. Throughout the movie, which is from the perspective of Banks, the shots of the present day are intercut with scenes of her living with a daughter, who at the beginning is revealed to have died of an incurable condition. As Banks and Donelly learn more of the alien language, tensions about the aliens’ purpose on Earth are rising with other nations turning toward aggression at the seeming danger of the aliens’ possibly mistranslated messages. In the climax of the movie, it's revealed that as Banks has learned the language of the heptapods, she has rewired the way she thinks, and therefore now perceives time in a non-linear way. This perception allows her to use future knowledge to communicate with a Chinese government official, which in turn brings the world together to share their pieces of information given to them by the heptapods. It is also revealed that Bank’s daughter who died was not a child from the past, but from her future, a child she has with Donelly.

The scene in Arrival where Donelly and Banks are conversing with the heptapods while there is a detonation charge in the room threatening to kill the scientists and maybe the heptapods is one of the best scenes in the movie in my opinion. The setup for the scene, with the soldiers setting the charges in advance before they step in, leaves no ambiguity to the plans of the soldiers. Banks and Donelly are working quickly because of the pressure they face from their superiors, but the drama is heightened by frequent cuts to the timer on the charge as well as the dreary lighting and dramatic shots down the ‘hallway’ once shots are fired outside. It’s further heightened by the doctors’ lack of awareness of it, some dramatic irony for the viewer, and for the heptapods, as the end of the movie reveals. The scene ends as the Heptapods shift the gravity in the room to throw Banks and Donelly out in time to save their lives, revealing that due to their perception of time, the heptapods showed them as much as they could in that conversation before the bomb went off.

[wandering-izzy]

Texture

Texture is all around us. Our skin, our hair; every surface and item around us has texture that we can often see, but more often feel. Among the five senses most humans have at our disposal, touch is our most used, but often most underrated sense. When we notice the texture of an item as adults, it’s not usually because we stopped to marvel at it or wonder what it would feel like, the way children do. Instead we notice texture when something is wrong: a wet sensation between our toes makes us notice the puddle on the floor, a gritty feeling on the counter tells us someone forgot to wipe their crumbs after making lunch. Photographing texture removes the touch element necessary to “feel” it, but I feel makes us look more critically at our surroundings and everyday environments.

Carpet. 

A close up photo of a shaggy carpet that I took at my boyfriend’s house. It’s not plush or soft, but it has a long pile that makes it impossible to ignore while walking barefoot. The choice to put flecks of color into an otherwise sand-colored carpet adds some visual texture to it as well. The lack of formal direction of the pile adds chaos to this texture.

Fur. 

A photograph of a toy poodle named Razz. Groomed regularly, his fur on is body trimmed short, but left long on his ears, head, and tail; though in his age, his tail is thinning. Captured in midmovement, this photo still conveys the soft, airy nature of his hair, puffy enough to support its own weight and shape, but beginning to form the nature ringlet curls poodles are known for. His brother would not hold still for a photo.

Remaining rain.

Water naturally forming puddles on the back of a pool float in the early morning, before the sun has fully risen. It rained the night before the photo was taken, I assume, because I didn’t hear it. The day before, thunder had been rolling all day without a drop to be seen. The way the surface tension of water played with the shiny plastic surface of this float to make a captivating pattern drew me toward it.

Fried egg over broccoli and rice.

Self explanatory, though the texture of the egg and the peek at the texture of the rice beneath it are what I’d like to draw attention toward. I’m not a particularly good cook, so simple meals like this are my go-to. Imagining the way the texture of the soft rice below mixes with the crispy edge of the egg white is a delicious way to explore this theme. Just wish I’d turned down the heat a little so the yolk would be more runny.

Moss and mushrooms.

A photo I took in November of last year in Seattle, WA. My mother’s love of mushrooms of any kind compelled me to take the photo, but the texture of the moss in this photo made me place it in this collection. With the humid environment in the Pacific Northwest, the moss grows like a soft plush carpet in the way it simply doesn’t in Florida, what with our overbearing heat. 

Rootbound aloe.

Withered and yellowing aloe vera leaves stretching toward the camera make this texture both more and less abstract than the others picture so far. The viewer can clearly see the smooth leaves of the aloe coming to jagged points on their edges, and can imagine how those feel. But while they are seeing that, there is also the composite texture of the photo, how it might feel to run your hand over top of all the leaves at once, a mixture of soft, smooth, jagged, and wrinkled sensations all at once.

Sweatshirt (purl).

The exterior of a sweatshirt lent to me by my boyfriend, bought at my insistence. Most common sweatshirts and hoodies are made from a tight machine knit fabric that is fleeced on the interior. It makes the first few wears of that jacket soft, before the cotton fabric pills and becomes less pleasant on repeat wears. This sweatshirt caught and held my attention because the knit side of the fabric is the interior of the garment, while the exterior is this very exposed, almost brutalist-looking purl stitch. It isn’t a texture I find common in fabric, as it’s not the most comfortable feeling against the skin, but it is unique in this application.

[wandering-izzy]

Ghost

I decided on a theme of ghosts for this assignment. While the subject of death is a common one in most genres of music, I wanted to focus more specifically on how songs play with the concept of ghosts. For the songs I’ve chosen, ghosts can mean wanting to be or feeling invisible, ghosts can represent a compulsion  or seeming possession to act, or the traditional representation as simply ghosts. I love a lot of spooky subjects, and the concept of ghosts I’ve always found fascinating. I love cute depictions of ghosts as little round sheet monsters at Halloween, and I love media that explores haunting (literally or figuratively) in its themes.

Unless otherwise linked, the lyrics for each song is in the description on their YouTube links.

1. Phantom Pt. II - JUSTICE 

Phantom Pt. II is an electronic rock song by the duo JUSTICE. It has no lyrics, so its connection to the theme, at first blush, is in name only. However, the unyielding electronic drum and electronic melodic line (starting at 0:38) give a very threatening feeling to the song, like the listener is being chased. This melody combined with the steady bassline from the beginning of the song sends the message that there is nowhere to run or hide.

2. I’m Not Calling You a Liar - Florence and the Machine 

I’m Not Calling You a Liar is a song by folk band Florence and the Machine. It’s a song speaking about a relationship long past that follows you around long after it's gone. In this song, they use the lines to communicate this literally in the chorus, saying:

“There's a ghost in my lungs

And it sighs in my sleep,

Wraps itself around my tongue,

As it softly speaks

Then it walks, then it walks with my legs

To Fall,

To Fall,

To Fall, at your feet.”

The instrumentation, with its heavy use of tambourine, bells, and harp maintains the whimsical energy of the song. The choir singing behind the lead singer’s lyrics evokes the traditional moaning of ghosts, and provides a pleasant harmony for the listener.

3. Ghost - Mystery Skulls  (Lyrics)

Ghost is a track from electronic musician Mystery Skulls. It is a song describing someone so depressed that they feel as though they are about to disappear, likening themselves to a ghost. In that way, the pop-y, upbeat tempo and instrumentation betray the message delivered by the lyrics. As well, while the track is not particularly dissonant, the warped vocals in the chorus break the listener out of the mold the song sets and the tone shift near the end reinforces that feeling of loneliness in the song’s message. 

4. Ghost - Silverstein 

Ghost is a song by emo/post-hardcore rock band Silverstein. Another song describing a past relationship as a ghost haunting them, this song differs greatly from the F+tM track from before. In this case, the singer was hurt by the actions of their partner, lashing out with angry, heavy vocals and intense guitars. The screaming portion about three quarters into the track hammers home the anger, flipping the script of the haunting motif, when the singer tells their ex-partner that they “have to live with” what they did. The screaming is dissonant and discomforting, as it should be, used to confront the ex in question.

5. Ghosting - Mother Mother 

Ghosting is a folk-styled song by the indie band Mother Mother. It describes a relationship that the speaker feels they are no longer contributing to, lingering around like a ghost. It’s from before the more modern use of the word “ghosting” came into use, where someone stops responding to messages and “disappears.” The simple guitar line carries through the song, unassuming, as the singer describes his “ghosting” of his partner, choosing then to abandon his disguise and come clean, to be honest. The background singers once again evoke imagery of moaning ghosts with their stacked vowel vocals. The bridge at about 2:30 in the track adds a dissonant violin to the mix, bringing the whole volume of the track up for the tense section of second-guessing: “Would it be so bad if I stayed?” It adds real tension here, almost threatening, before easing back to the softer original guitar line as the message settles back to its original stance.

6. Ghost Choir - Louie Zong 

This short piece by an independent artist is the third in an ongoing set of short animations by animator and songwriter Louie Zong, always released in October.  Another instrumental piece, this song is more jazz leaning than any of the others on the list, and more fun and lighthearted both in presentation and theme. A mixture of synthesized tones for the “voices” of the ghosts alongside real samples of fingers snapping, light drums, and piano give the song a unique feel. The two “singers” pass the same line back and forth at different octaves before handing it off to the smaller ghost in a jazz-style solo that ends the track in a very cute finish.

[wandering-izzy]

I’m not a hero. Those notions left me long ago. They left me before I got stuck on this dingy satellite, bathing only in the flickering neon lights. They left me before I decided to bide my time spinning songs at the local night club; any effort to save enough money to leave this place. The notions left me when you went missing, so meticulous you are, without a trace left behind you.

I get shoulder checked as I make my way through the markets, and when I glance through my mask to check, I see it’s another human like me. Not many on this station. Here, there’s more aliens, like you. The man doesn’t break his pace and neither do I, the shotgun on my back comforting in a seedy place like this. So is the knife on my waist.

You always wanted to be a hero. You told me so when we first started working together, and it inspired me. I wanted to be beside you, to support you on your journey; never be apart. You always had a wild streak, never one for rules that might keep you from keeping people safe. So frustrated with our work never being enough, there were always some that got away.

There are no rules out here. More gangs than good people, where the law can’t find them. Red Nebula mercenaries picking on whoever looks like an easy mark. It makes news of vigilantes making their lives hell all the more comforting. I could never do that. Not on my own, anyway. Learned a lot of what I know about fighting from you; the rest came naturally out here with the kind of folks that’ll accost a DJ on a satellite out on the edge of the galaxy. Besides tripping pickpockets when I see them doing their work, I don’t do much to stop the things I see. Sure, I could step in and stop that shakedown, but what would that mean for me? Who would win in that fight: two aliens twice my size, or a tall human woman with light military experience?

I felt braver with you. I walk past.

The night has been long. The show went well, and I got my pay from the club as agreed. The walk home is long, but mostly quiet. As I’m about to pass the final shops that signal the end of the market district, I overhear a conversation.

“Did you hear that the Red Nebula have Scope?” Scope. He’s one of those vigilantes I’ve heard about. “Finally gonna give him payback for all those shipments of theirs he fumbled.”

I don’t realize I’ve slowed down until someone almost runs into me for the second time tonight. I know Red Nebula, what they ship. Nothing good. Drugs, people, god knows what else. I don’t like the sound of one of the few good men here dying at their hands. But what can I do?

“That’s crazy. That man’s an army. They won’t keep him down.” I hear another voice respond, lower. The first voice laughs. 

“Maybe this time they will. I hear they’ve got quite a team pinning him down.” 

I’m not a hero. 

But my feet put me in front of the two conversing, their alien faces confused at my approach.

“Where have they got Scope pinned down?” My voice feels foreign. The shotgun on my back is loaded. The knife on my waist is sharp.

“You going to watch the action? Down in the delta sector, left, just past Lirisi’s Parts shop.”

“Thanks.” I turn heel the way he’s said, and walk quickly before breaking into a sprint.

He’s not you. But he’s a good man.

I’m not a hero.

But I could try to be.

--- --- ---

The running plot in this short piece is as follows: “The narrator minds her own business and keeps her head down after the disappearance of a friend, but after overhearing a bad situation, decides to try to be a hero.” I added some exposition about the situation, including the setting on a satellite in far off space in the future, as well as the presence of aliens. I write recreationally, so I hope you enjoyed my piece.

[wandering-izzy]

The Mortician in San Francisco

by Randall Mann

This may sound queer, but in 1985 I held the delicate hands of Dan White: I prepared him for burial; by then, Harvey Milk was made monument—no, myth—by the years since he was shot. I remember when Harvey was shot: twenty, and I knew I was queer. Those were the years, Levi’s and leather jackets holding hands on Castro Street, cheering for Harvey Milk— elected on the same day as Dan White. I often wonder about Supervisor White, who fatally shot Mayor Moscone and Supervisor Milk, who was one of us, a Castro queer. May 21, 1979: a jury hands down the sentence, seven years— in truth, five years— for ex-cop, ex-fireman Dan White, for the blood on his hands; when he confessed that he had shot the mayor and the queer, a few men in blue cheered. And Harvey Milk? Why cry over spilled milk, some wondered, semi-privately, for years— it meant “one less queer.” The jurors turned to White. If just the mayor had been shot, Dan might have had trouble on his hands— but the twelve who held his life in their hands maybe didn’t mind the death of Harvey Milk; maybe, the second murder offered him a shot at serving only a few years. In the end, he committed suicide, this Dan White. And he was made presentable by a queer.

In the poem The Mortician in San Francisco, author Randall Mann describes the experience of his friend Tom Halloran, a gay man who also served as a mortician in San Francisco in. In general, it descibes the assassination of openly gay San Fancisco city supervisor Harvey Milk (and Mayor Geroge Moscone) at the hands of fellow supervisor Dan White in 1978. Mann uses his friend Halloran as the narrator of the poem. The poem begins with the narrator saying that though it may sound queer, he’s held Dan White’s hands in 1985. He remembers when Harvey Milk was shot, and his age at the time. He references Levi’s jeans and leather jackets, both common fashions of the time, but especially in the queer community. He mentions Castro street, which is the neighborhood for which Milk was supervisor, and where Milk had formerly owned a camera store. The narrator thinks about White, and tells of how he shot and killed Moscone and Milk. He tells of how in 1979, White was handed a sentence of seven years, of which he only served five, by a jury. He explains that Dan White had once been a cop, had once been a firefighter, and that when his confession came out, several cops cheered. Mann uses the common phrase “Why cry over spilled milk?” in an ironic thought had by those critics of Milk. The narrator remarks then that if White had only killed Mayor Marcone, then his sentence would be much heavier, but that with the viewpoint of the jury, which was comprised of white catholics, Supervisor Milk’s assassination somehow lessened the crime. At the end, the narrator makes another ironic statement, this time at White’s expense, that after he comitted suicide in 1985, his body was prepared for burial “by a queer.”

This poem leaves little up for interpretation with its lack of use of metaphors or other flowery language choices. Instead, it paints clear scenes in the mind with clear language. When speaking of holding hands on Castro street, one can imagine in their mind’s eye two men fearful and angry, seeking comfort in each other’s presence. The line “a few men in blue cheered.” forces to mind a grim image of police officers gleefully celebrating two horrific murders, a cruel thought. The theme that follows through is the ultimate irony of Supervisor Dan White, a man whose name is known for his violence against one of the queer community’s most well known figures, was posthumously prepared by gay man.

I was aided in my reading by knowledge of the assassination of Harvey Milk, as well as this interview with the author, Randall Mann.

[wandering-izzy]

Architectural Comparisons

My childhood home is a large two-story 7 bedroom, 4 bathroom house in Broward county, Florida. It has a large foyer/living room area to start with, with a standalone staircase splitting the space. There is also a small bathroom in this area behind a large floor length mirror. 

A photo of the entry way to my home, please excuse the mess, we are reorganizing. In the back is the large floor-to-ceiling mirror half blocked by the door to the kitchen, with the bathroom door beside it in white.

Separated by french doors, there is another living/dining room space connected to an open kitchen. A hallway coming off of this area leads to two bedrooms, one large and one small, and a bathroom. Along the front of the house there are 6/8 large floor length windows at regular intervals, centered on the front door.

The hallway on the second floor. There is the main bedroom with the bath just behind where I’m standing at the stairs, with another bathroom and bedroom just out of frame on the right wall.

 On the second floor, there is a large hallway down the width of the building that leads to 2 small bedrooms, one medium sized bedroom, a bathroom, and two large bedrooms, one of which has another bathroom in suite. The layout is somewhat dated, a cookie-cutter 70s construction house in the suburbs that matches the floor plan of several others in this neighborhood. Measures taken to modernize it, such as the removal of a room divider in the living/dining room to open the space, the remodel of the kitchen, and the removal of carpet from the stairs have all done wonders to make the space more timeless. Windows in the rooms are either plentiful or large, making most of the rooms bright and welcoming at some point in the day.

The IST Building from the outside, with the louvers down over the rooftop windows.

While I haven’t been here in a long time, a space I used to frequent and love was the Innovation, Science, and Technology (IST) building at Florida Polytechnic University in Lakeland. It is a large oblong building of classrooms designed by Spanish architect Santiago Calatrava.

A photo from 2016 of one of the ground floor hallways, featuring a small bug-type Pokémon. I don’t have many other photos from this time.

 The ground floor is made up of two interior hallways that meet at the tips of the building, with classrooms on the exterior walls and laboratory rooms on the interior. These classrooms are sleek and modern, with one wall of each being primarily large floor to ceiling windows to the lakes, and clean white walls and minimal concrete floors. The second floor is split into two spaces generally; as with downstairs, a hallway follows each side of the oval, with faculty offices lining the outer walls. On the inside of the second floor, however, is a large cavernous space with enormous skylight windows.

The second floor of the IST. I have only ever seen it this neat a few times. Imagine more chairs and tables pushed around, as well as a small computer-lab-style area.

 These windows have giant ‘louvers’ about them that dynamically shift each hour, providing optimal natural light during the day without being overwhelming. The whole building is incredibly modern and sleek, if somewhat brutal in places. With all the windows and the cavernous design, the building does as advertised, welcoming in students of all ages to learn.

My childhood home and the IST building at Florida Poly are different in almost every way, including purpose. I prefer each of these spaces for different reasons: being home makes me feel safe, comfortable, and private, while being in the IST makes me feel more free, creative, and social. These are all feelings I enjoy, so in that way I find it difficult to put one above the other.

[wandering-izzy]

Withstanding Presence, Beverly Pepper (2000)

Withstanding Presence is a stone sculpture by Beverly Pepper, created in 2000, which stands in the lobby of the Alvin Sherman Library at Nova Southeastern University’s campus in Davie, Florida. It is one of her works of stone, set apart from her metal works.

It stands imposing at almost 11 and a half feet (137 in), and was donated to the library as a permanent installation in 2000. Made from 160 million year old stone, as denoted on the placard, Pepper’s sculpture stands as a showcase of the stone itself. The minimalist cuts for the vertical separation of the two pieces, as well as the pyramid sections removed from each side are not particularly detailed, but they are precise. As shown in the photographs, these pillars stand in the large open lobby of the library, one of the first things library-goers see when they walk in. The weathered wood base that supports it adds to its presence, giving it a feeling of a relic unearthed rather than a man-made sculpture. The placement, both in the room itself as well as in the library, is fitting, as Withstanding Presence gives a viewer the feeling that it has stood here for all time, and that it will continue to do so. This is emblematic of both the university and the library, the former as a long-running institution of knowledge and the other as the keeper of it. This full round sculpture is solemn and silent, very fitting for a library, where quiet prevails. 

This statue has been a mainstay of this library since I began coming here when I was a small child, and has always felt like an imposing structure towering above me: a stone gate to knowledge and learning. It is less imposing as an adult, but no less inspiring.

[wandering-izzy]

Untitled by Sohrab Sepehri (1970-1971)

[link for source/more detailed view]

The untitled piece I have chosen by Sohrab Sepehri is a very serene one. As shown above, the color palette it utilizes is very limited: two shades of blue, and several shades of gray and black do not excite the viewer, but instead calm them and leave the viewer with a sense of tranquility. The viewer’s eye is drawn to the large closed line in the center right side, but is slowly moved toward the smaller, more open lines to the left of it. They are too whispy to imply structure, in my opinion, instead evoking movement with the texture of the trailing off lines. They stretch upward on the canvas. Their relationship with the other colors on the canvas is also fascinating, layered above the gray blocks at the center and bottom, but below the one on top. While the lines are not contiguous, it feels as though they continue stretching on upwards past what we can see in Sepehri’s painting. The lines are also mostly avoiding the blue elements, to which the eye is next drawn.

The way the blues are layered in the top left feels like depth, like a window you are looking through or a gap in the gray clouds to a blue sky above. While the grays give the painting a solemn feeling, the blue lends a more hopeful, if not just as calm, tone to the work. The blue on the right hand side feels like another window or opening, though definitely less pronounced, once again implying a continued scene that extended beyond what the canvas shows.

This piece drew my eye for its simple palette and imperfections in strokes. The fact that none of the blocks cleanly meet or connect, the way there are drops of paint “out of place” (if they can really be called that), and the inconsistency of the applied paint are all subtle texture details that draw my attention.

[wandering-izzy]

Love Like a Sunset (Parts 1 and 2) by Phoenix

Love Like a Sunset Part 1 and Part 2 are tracks 4 and 5 respectively on the album Wolfgang Amadeus Phoenix, by the band Phoenix, released in 2009. The tracks together are 7 and a half minutes in length, with vocals only present in the final 2 minutes of the piece (Part 2). They are as follows:

Acres A visible horizon Right where it starts and ends Oh, when did we start the end?

Acres A visible illusion Oh, where it starts, it ends Love like a sunset

With an introduction of electronic instrumentation in a very clear building pattern with a low synthetic hum in the background, the track begins with a feeling of something growing, emerging, and as I said before, building. The introduction of the soft single string guitar notes and the shifting drone tones are at odds with one another, shifting the listener between the familiar consistency of the guitar and the discomforting changes of the drone. As the song continues, there is always a set of instruments doing this, a steady consistent instrument hitting quarter or eighth notes in a steady beat while other accents change almost at random around them. Many of the dissonant elements and the fluctuating tension the song puts the listener in a state that I feel is evocative of standing in a storm, of uncertainty and fear.

Everything about the instrumentation is a deliberate choice, from the subtle changes in guitar strum methods in the middle sections of the song, and the way the feedback in the softer sections still adds tension to moments where the listener is otherwise letting out a breath of air, able to relax.

When the vocals finally begin, the song evokes the feeling of watching the sun set at last, the large heavy notes of the music bringing to mind the way the colors of the sky change. The words themselves imply life and love are like a sunset, something we can see on the horizon, that we are here for in the moment, but may be gone the next.

I often find myself listening to music on repeat because I have difficulty understanding what is being said in the lyrics, but for all the simplicity of this song’s lyrics, every repeat listen has given me a new element to notice. There are so many layers: guitars, synthesizers, drones, drums. They all work together in a way that is so unlike any other track I know.