'17776' Demonstrates How Every Sports Story is a Love Story
Every sports story is, at its core, a love story, and 17776 is a love story of the grandest scope.
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Every sports story is, at its core, a love story, and 17776 is a love story of the grandest scope.
Find joy.
The Hello Kitty ACAB and the Hatsune Miku says “All Cops are Bastards!” memes are a new internet cultural symbol present in Twitter profile pics, Instagram feeds, and TikTok audios. Although Hello Kitty ACAB is supposedly a radical critique of the prison industrial complex, these images are instead indicative of the sanitization of violence, performative activism, and the commodification and commercialization of the radical aesthetic. Essentially, “woke” memes and pretty infographics are antithetical to their very purpose.
Jean–Honoré Fragonard’s “The Swing” is a vision straight out of a dream. A woman, almost subsumed by her billowing gown, playfully swings in and out of a lush, enchanted garden as a man cheekily watches her from below. Her shoe flies through the air as a symbol of the carefree, facetious lifestyle she lives as a member of the 18th–century French bourgeoisie. Her haute life is characterized by opulence and excess, and her coquettish giggles are almost audible through the canvas. Yet, while real women like Fragonard’s fictionalized subject enjoyed nonchalant and playful afternoons, outside of their frivolous bubble the world was not such a dream–like place.
Like many other employees across the nation, staff members at Asian Arts Initiative (AAI) shifted their work online in the wake of coronavirus. Usual in–person activities were readily replaced with Zoom meetings, breakout sessions, and quick email threads. To recreate a sense of connection, Cat Ramirez launched the AAI Pen Pals Project in April, giving staff members the opportunity to send handwritten postcards to each other. In September, the AAI Pen Pals Project was re–launched and redirected for an additional cause: raising funds for the struggling USPS.
It is a universally acknowledged truth that an artist in possession of great talent must be in want of an ideal subject.
Adrian Evans IV (GSE ‘21) starts all of his work on a paint–splattered tarp on the floor of his apartment. As a self–taught artist, he’s been creating abstract paintings since his sophomore year of college. His Pollock–esque pieces can be found on his instagram, @creacetion and his online portfolio. Now, as a student in the Graduate School of Education, he’s bridging the meanings of oral storytelling, teaching, and the process of creation.
Cynthia Zhou (C’23) first began exploring design through anime fan–art forums in middle school, and since then, her love for creating art has blossomed into a diverse and impressive portfolio. Her work has not gone unnoticed—she is a 2018 National YoungArts Foundation Finalist and was recognized at the White House as a 2019 Presidential Scholar in the Arts. She has also been featured in exhibits in the Kennedy Center in DC, as well as New York City, San Francisco, and Miami. Although Cynthia’s portfolio spans from paintings to logo graphics, her art consistently uses color to represent how we interact with our memories. Now she’s turning her passion for introspection professional, using her knack for emotive color theory to design for grassroots movements. For Cynthia, her talent serves a deliberate purpose: to promote equality.
In 1963, author James Baldwin published The Fire Next Time, which helped set the scene for the upcoming turmoil in American race relations.
First gracing our cinemas almost 15 years ago, the Devil Wears Prada remains, in my opinion, a necessary element of anybody’s film diet. Starring Anne Hathaway and Meryl Streep, the film delves into the world of fashion publication – focusing on the relationship between a fashion magazine’s editrix and her assistant. The film’s primary ‘antagonist’ – though there is a real case to be made for Hathaway’s on-screen boyfriend fulfilling this role – is Miranda Priestly, the aforementioned editrix of a renowned fashion magazine, played by Streep. Most of the stellar moments in the film are easily attributable to Miranda Priestly (and Streep’s performance), one of the most iconic instances being her soliloquy lecturing Andrea Sachs (played by Hathaway) on the exact difference between turquoise and cerulean. In it, Priestly delves into a brief history of the color cerulean – the genesis of its popularity, the proliferation of cerulean within high fashion, and its eventual appearance in mass production of the clothes Sachs herself wears.
I attended my first ballet class at the tender age of eight. Set in a dimly lit room in some corner of my primary school, our "studio" did not boast ballet barres nor mirrors. Rather, it relied purely on the motivation of a singular instructor determined to teach a dozen children an elite art form revered for its innate sense of perfectionism.
“The most important part of writing, and really life, you said, is revision.”
Just as banana bread, Chloe Ting workouts, and whipped coffee have become quintessential staples of Quarantine, so have drastic alterations to one’s appearance, especially by ways of their hair. Of these varying hair dye trends, the infamous "e-girl hair" has become ubiquitous— consisting of bleaching or coloring the front two strands of hair.
As protests supporting the Black Lives Matter movement began to gain traction a couple of weeks ago, business owners grew anxious about the repercussions that civil unrest could have on their properties. In response to this, many owners boarded up their storefronts in an attempt to prevent any sort of destruction.
“Look, if you are sad, you have to try not to be.”
My first thought upon entering Brandy Melville’s Walnut Street location was that I was wading into some sort of fever dream set in 1990s California. The bleached wood and white–walled interiors envelop the store in a kind of permanent VSCO filter; muted pastel tones evoke grainy visuals of the beach and the sea. Sweatshirts emblazoned with the monikers of varying West Coast locations line the walls, coupled with dainty skirts and slim tanks carrying embroidered floral motifs.
There are few things that give me as much pleasure as curling up on the couch and losing myself in a good book. But my love for reading goes beyond my appreciation for eloquent prose or a powerful plotline; I love the precision of the font and the symmetry of the margins, the rhythmic page-turning, the dog-eared corners and the highlighted passages. I love the physical act of reading. But recently, I’ve felt too restless to actually do so. The sedentariness of the quarantine lifestyle has made the idea of doing any couch activity seem painful. Enter my new obsession, a solution for the avid-reader-turned-perpetual-fidgeter: the audiobook.
In 1965, the designer Yves Saint Laurent created a collection directly inspired by the works of Piet Mondrian. The collection, dubbed the Mondrian Dresses, directly transferred Mondrian’s Composition with Large Red Plane, Yellow, Black, Gray, and Blue (1921) onto six different dresses.
We are currently in a moment of immense clarity. Whether that clarity is better or worse than the state of dulled content we maintained before— I don’t know. It’s clear we can no longer continue to convince ourselves that political correctness is synonymous with equality.
Black women deserve to read stories that feel accurate to their experiences and notice the struggles of Black love without passing judgement or minimizing their feelings. We deserve to read well-rounded characters that are complex and confused, powerful and vulnerable. Impulsivity and infidelity are forgiven for the Allie Hamilton’s of the literary world, but too rarely are those imperfections illustrated in such a forgiving light when Black women are imagined. Instead, Black characters too often play into obvious, binary tropes: rappers are cold, violent, and arrogant; professional women are sassy, ill-tempered, and mean-spirited.