The Wesleyan Argus

Author: Gabe Rosenberg

  • “The Naked I” Delivers Inclusive Expressions Of Trans* and Queer Life

    The actors of 20% Theatre Company performed “The Naked I: Insides Out” in Beckham Hall on Sunday, Oct. 5 to kick off Wesleyan’s Pride Week. The third in a series of shows produced under “The Naked I” title, “Insides Out” is the result of an open call for original written pieces about queer and trans* individuals. While the original production, which premiered in February 2014 in Minneapolis, Minn., was composed of 25 of those submissions, the version performed at Wesleyan contained only 11 of those original 25 pieces, all of which were monologues.

    The version of “Insides Out” that was performed at Wesleyan resembled Eve Ensler’s “The Vagina Monologues,” only instead of centering on a specific anatomical part, it was concerned with the narratives of queer and trans* individuals. As with “The Vagina Monologues,” each monologue in “Insides Out” was self-contained and was performed with little to no assistance from props. These similarities are not coincidental. While “The Vagina Monologues” influenced its creation, “The Naked I” series of plays is also a form of commentary on “The Vagina Monologues.” Most prominently, it tackles the issue of inclusivity, something that the members of the “Insides Out” cast found “The Vagina Monologues” to be lacking.

    “I remember seeing ‘The Vagina Monologues’ when I was either a firstyear or sophomore in college and being like, ‘Woah! That exists! Cool!’” said Robbie Dunning, an actor in the production. “[B]ut every year when I saw it, it became less powerful because it wasn’t furthering conversations, and it wasn’t speaking to me because every year that passed, when I would see it again and support it at my school, it felt less inclusive. And also, when I finally felt comfortable and powerful enough in myself as a person to be like, ‘Wow, I really want to do this theater, and I really want to be involved,’ it was after I had come out as a trans* man, and they had a policy at the time that was like, ‘If you don’t identify as a woman, then you can’t be involved.’ And I was like, ‘This is interesting. I do have a vagina. That’s complicated.’ Inclusivity is an issue that I think ‘The Naked I’ just blows apart.”

    Claire Avitabile, the executive director of 20% Theatre, explained that the goal of “The Naked I” is to tell as many different stories as possible. Whereas “The Vagina Monologues” tells a set number of stories each time it is performed, give or take a few additions or subtractions, “The Naked I” aims to constantly be telling new stories.

    “[W]ith Toby Davis’ permission—he wrote the first ‘Naked I’—20% Theatre has [created] and continues to create new plays,” Avitabile said. “So it’s like, what we’re missing is that ‘The Vagina Monologues’ could keep going. There are hundreds more stories to be told, and that’s what we’re doing with this project. Because it doesn’t just stop with the first 20 stories that were staged. There are just an infinite number, so we’re going to keep making new ‘Naked I’ plays and making sure that voices get heard and stories get told that haven’t yet.”

    For Yusef Bornacelli, another performer, “The Naked I” provides an important medium for individual expression in the context of a larger group.

    “It’s a really almost overwhelming feeling when you get to be a part of something that you don’t get to see,” Bornacelli said. “Trans* and queer voices are often just left to the backdrop of everything else, and when you have artists who come together and want to tell our stories and tell their stories, who want to share things that are so personal and intimate, and places that we’ve all been, and feelings that we’ve all had, it’s almost like a release of all the things that you wish you could communicate all the time but don’t and can’t.”

    While the Wesleyan production contained only 11 monologues, it still managed to present an incredibly diverse array of experiences. The speakers ranged in variety from the cisgender mother of a trans* child concerned about the way her child was being treated to a lesbian who felt constrained by the labels of “butch” and “femme.” The monologues varied not only in content but in tone as well. Some were incredibly serious and heart-wrenching, while others were lighthearted and funny. The monologues constantly played with viewers’ expectations and challenged their preconceived notions of gender and sexual identity. For instance, in “Man-Ish,” the speaker, portrayed by Dunning, proclaims that it took six months for hir to realize that ze was in a same-gender relationship. While one could easily expect the speaker and hir partner’s gender identities to fall on either side of the traditional gender binary, it is revealed at the end that both identify as “man-ish,” challenging viewers’ notions of what it actually means to be in a same-sex relationship.

    But while “Insides Out” may affect the way that the members of the audience think, it has also had a powerful impact on the performers themselves.

    “I don’t think it’s an understatement if I say that being in ‘The Naked I’ has really changed my life,” Dunning said. “Being in something that is so empowering as ‘The Naked I’ was a revelation…because it changed my view of what I could do as a trans* performer and as a writer and an activist and an educator, in the context of all of those things. They also gave me this amazing community that I’d never had before. I’d never been in a room with that many trans*gender people as the cast of ‘The Naked I.’ I suddenly had this community that I’d been looking for and wanting and had a really great medium through which to get to know and become family with all these incredible trans* people and really wonderful allies, and I’m also really excited at the possibilities it brings for writing future things.”

  • Perfume Genius Lightens Up Sound With Too Bright

    I can think of few songs as harrowing as Perfume Genius’ “Learning,” the title track off his overlooked 2010 debut. Since the release of Learning, Perfume Genius (off-stage, Mike Hadreas) has labored under the radar, crafting two more albums of intricate yearning pop that dares to address difficult subjects without mitigating or ignoring their complexity and darkness. This alone would deserve praise, but as anyone who has followed Hadreas knows, the wonder of the music stretches far beyond the bravery of the subject matter. Not only has Hadreas tackled topics in ways that would terrify a less impressive artist, he has done so within some of the most arresting and breathtaking music of the last decade.

    Too Bright, Hadreas’ third album under the Perfume Genius moniker, is no exception, even though it strays from and expands upon the Perfume Genius sonic palette. This has all been part of a steady progression. After the release of Put Your Back N 2 It, critics rightly noted that Hadreas’ music was brightening, combining the almost unrelenting melancholy of Learning with fuller arrangements. If Learning was defined by its spare piano-based aesthetic, Put Your Back N 2 It was proof that Hadreas was more than able to expand, allowing thicker sounds to flower out of a well-established foundation.

    This continues on Too Bright, which is arguably the happiest of Perfume Genius’ work, if only by virtue of its predecessors’ cutting bleakness. However, just like on Put Your Back N 2 It, every new musical and thematic facet feels wholly organic, as if each track is in intentioned conversation with those surrounding it. Opener “I Decline,” which makes use of the same simple piano that dominated Learning’s tracklist, seems both to engage with and question that simplicity, reaching outwards in its very first lyric (“I can see for miles”). This ethos of conversation is further highlighted later in the album when that lyric is repeated on “Grid.” Sonically, “I Decline” and “Grid” could not be more different. Whereas the former unfolds in hazy, mournful, elegiac tones, the later charges forward along a hungry and insistent bass line that is periodically thrown aside by sharp, bracing electric screeching. It’s an unnerving experience, and yet it somehow makes perfect sense. It underscores Hadreas’ impulse to be both attended to and undermined. Furthermore, it marks Too Bright as an album of growth through recontextualization, a record that seeks to harness the raw and unashamed anguish of its predecessors and channel it into an altogether different breed of ferociousness. In the same way that one lyric can be the seed of two vastly different experiences, Too Bright time and time again seems to argue that any one emotional force can grow in a host of directions.

    This is not to say that Too Bright positions itself as a record of straightforward healing. As anyone who has explored Hadreas’ work knows, he is an artist who opposes any narrative of straightforward recovery. Certainly, the subjects addressed on all three Perfume Genius albums—suicide, drug addiction, sexual abuse—demand a more complex understanding of restitution and therapy. While on “I Decline,” Hadreas notes an “angel just above the grid/ Open, smiling, reaching out,” he is quick to rebuke the symbolism of the image. Later on “Grid,” the angel has vanished altogether, and all that remains is “a diamond/ Swallowed and shit/ Then swallowed again.” It’s an arresting confluence of images, each swimming atop and negating the other, but it speaks to the larger questions of evolution the Hadreas asks with his music. While songs like “Queen” ride confident and throbbing guitar lines, others such as “I’m a Mother” disintegrate under their sound, trading in whimpers and rumbles as opposed to any traceable musical arc. In fact, the whole album seems to build and crumble and build over the course of its runtime, trading in a conscious self-subversion and sabotage that both encourages and frustrates any notion of closure. It’s a mature transfiguration of theme into form—especially for an album that could be dismissed as pop—and one that allows Too Bright to gradually reveal itself as it moves along, and then to deepen with multiple listens.

    On top of all of this, Too Bright is also absurdly beautiful, composed of 11 deeply assured songs that feed into each other texturally such that certain stretches seem to be made up of one long track. In passing, I’ve described Hadreas’ music as something like the lovechild of Youth Lagoon and Radiohead. However, that undersells the incontrovertible distinctiveness of what he has created with each of his three albums. I can think of no other artist who is able to maintain the devotion to honesty and growth that defines Perfume Genius’ discography, qualities that become all the more impressive when played out so thoroughly over the course of barely 33 minutes. Too Bright manages to feel both absolutely self-contained and blessedly incomplete, opening itself up on either end to the richness of Hadreas’ previous work and showing us what has allowed these first three records to mingle with and feed off each other so magnificently.

    If these albums were films, they’d be the sort that you’d want to marathon before the release of each successor. Even as I write that, the temptation to compare disparate art forms seems foolish and reductive. Still, it’s hard not to find something almost narrative or cinematic in Hadreas’ work. His music has an almost synesthesiac texture that bubbles within each and every record. The result is often painful and challenging, but always engrossing. If Too Bright doesn’t promise a balm to all of the wounds that Learning and Put Your Back N 2 It explored so ruthlessly, it gestures towards a sense of wholeness and closure that seems to preclude any scabbing. That’s a rare and wonderful destination.

  • Who Wore it Wes: Jennie He ’16

    Gavriella Wolf/Staff Writer

    Before Jennie He ’16 wore it Wes, she wore it elsewhere: she transferred to Wesleyan in her sophomore spring from St. Lawrence University in northern New York state. Upon arriving in Middletown, He became involved with feminist activism and sexual assault prevention causes on campus. The Feminism, Gender, and Sexuality Studies and philosophy double major sat down with The Argus to discuss her fashion favorites as well as her personal take on the influx of “preppy” on the Wesleyan campus.

     

    The Argus: To what extent do you consider yourself interested in fashion?

    Jennie He: I’m extraordinarily interested in fashion, but I wouldn’t say it’s exactly who I am. I guess my sense of fashion is just a self expression, but it’s not what I revolve my entire identity around.

     

    A: How long have you been interested in fashion?

    JH: I didn’t really update my wardrobe as much until, like, a year ago. And I’ve always been very interested in fashion, but because, you know, being in high school, you didn’t really have any money, so you couldn’t really buy any clothes anyways, so you couldn’t really do anything. [But] I’ve always been really interested in fashion, like following up on Tumblr, Vogue, whatever. So, for a while!

     

    A: Describe your personal style in three to five words.

    JH: Badass, feminine, aggressive…unapologetic.

     

    A: Does the fashion scene at Wes differ from that of St. Lawrence?

    JH: Completely. Well, I shouldn’t say completely, because I feel like there’s a lot more preppy people here right now as of late. Yeah, I was helping on move-in day, and everyone was preppy, and I was like, “No, this is exactly what I wanted to get away from.” But at my previous school, everyone [wore] Ralph Lauren, Hunter boots, literally anything like J. Crew. You could name all the brands that they would ever wear in their entire life and what they would buy, and it’s all that. And compared to that, Wesleyan is a complete and utter utopia of fashion; it’s much better, more creative.

     

    A: Where are your favorite places to get your clothes?

    JH: Zara! Like one to five, Zara, and sometimes I’ll do Urban Outfitters, or find small stores online that I can just shop from.

     

    A: So you don’t find it hard to shop from campus?

    JH: Nope, not at all.

     

    A: Do you have any favorite designers that you see are related to the Zara aesthetic?

    JH: Shoes-wise, I am in love with Jeffrey Campbell, except I can’t afford Jeffrey Campbell. So that’s why I always find things that look alike. Clothing-wise, I love All Saints. Can’t afford them. And Rag and Bone. Can’t afford them, either.

     

    A: From where do you draw style inspiration?

    JH: There’s this great website called lookbook.nu. It has basically random people from across the world [who] add their photos in, and people can like hype it, [which is] basically like liking it on Instagram. So that place, mostly. It’s amazing; it’s beautiful.

     

    A: Do you have any other favorite blogs that you look at fashion through?

    JH: Yes, there’s this one girl, her [blog] is Feral Creature. I think her name is Eugenie. And so she is one of my biggest inspirations, because she’s also like very strong yet very feminine, the mix that I want to portray.

     

    A: Is there a current trend on campus that you like?

    JH: Birkenstocks! Birkenstocks everything every day.

     

    A: Is there a current trend you hate?

    JH: Those lace-up boots for women with a heel, like the old-maid boots. Like pilgrim [shoes], I don’t even know how to describe them.

     

    A: Do you have an item of winter clothing that you can’t wait to wear?

    JH: Not particularly. I like my Zara leggings and I like my boots [gestures to her outfit], and so I’m wearing both of these out of winter, anyway.

     

    A: Do you feel more comfortable dressing for Wesleyan than Saint Lawrence?

    JH: Yes. When I was at Saint Lawrence, I didn’t buy any new clothes, because I didn’t want to stand out any more than I already was, by just not wearing Ralph Lauren, J. Crew, and Vineyard Vines.

  • Idiot Box: The Legend of Korra

    c/o waoanime.tv

    With the premiere of the first episode of the fourth (and final) season of “The Legend of Korra,” we have a lot of rebuilding to do: a government or two trying to repair themselves, a nomadic people working to bring themselves back from the brink, and the world’s supposed protector fighting to become whole again. Let’s just say that over the previous season of “Korra,” the franchise’s darkest, bloodiest, and best season so far, a great many things were blown up.

    “The Legend of Korra” was originally conceived as a miniseries, set two generations after the end of “Avatar: The Last Airbender.” It is at once a tribute to, a continuation of, and an improvement on the beautifully fleshed-out world, intricate geopolitics, and deep mythology of the original series. “Korra,” which began in 2012, maintains many connections to the original, which ended its run in 2008: The descendants of the original Avatar gang (Aang, Katara, Sokka, and Toph) now live in the new world established by Avatar Aang after the defeat of the imperialistic fire nation. Aang established the United Republic of Nations, with Republic City as its capitol, as a place where benders from all four former nations (as well as non-benders) could live in harmony. After his death, a new avatar was born: the titular Korra, of the water tribe.

    Along with the usual four elements, metal bending (which Toph invented back in the original series) and lightning bending (seen originally as evil) are now commonplace and have been used to herald this world into an industrial revolution of sorts. I had a friend who quit watching early on in “Korra” because she couldn’t stand the fact that there were cars around. For me, the not-quite-steampunk world is even more exciting than the original because it feels more real and less forcibly connected to a magical, pastoral past. (Also, giant robots are cool.) Rather than traversing the lands as in Aang’s classic Hero’s Journey, “Korra” stays tied, more or less, to the industrialized metropolis, along with all the possibilities and problems that an urban setting holds.

    In its three seasons so far, “Korra” established itself as a darker, more politically tinged show than a children’s cartoon on Nickelodeon has any right to be. In fact, midway through season three, the network pulled it from the air, premiering the rest of the season’s episodes online only, where it currently resides at the beginning of season four. Book One (Air) places Korra and her newfound Team Avatar—fire bender Mako, his earth bender brother Bolin, and tech-savvy but non-bending Asami—against a populist uprising: the Equalists, who seek to even the playing field for ordinary citizens by removing all bending from the world. For a show based around the idea that a kid who can master all forms of magic should make decisions about the fate of the world, even giving a voice—let alone a persuasive one—to an opposition movement, turns this show into one quite comfortable dancing around the gray areas of morality and power.

    For those who don’t remember, the ultimate moral conflict driving “Avatar: The Last Airbender” to its conclusion was one of life, death, and utilitarianism: Is Aang just in killing a terrible ruler if that death would save the world? Does the Avatar even have that authority, and how would that change him as a person? While “Avatar” strikes a serious blow in favor of saving life, “Korra” doesn’t avoid bloodshed so readily. Season one concludes with the murder-suicide of a corrupted government official and his brother, the leader of the Equalist rebellion, and somehow, it feels like the right thing to happen. Season three most likely was pulled from the air because of the graphic, on-screen suffocation death of a dictator: a member of an anarchist group literally sucked the air from her lungs. Later on, a member of that same group ended up blowing up her own head after it was encased in metal.

    And yet, this series continues the matchless characterization work of its predecessor by humanizing even the enemy. I find myself questioning the unspoken dominance of benders over non-benders in society and governments, an issue that is never truly resolved and still sometimes pops up in the subtext here and there. Even the Big Bads have lives and personalities; just as Prince Zuko’s backstory turns him into the breakout character of “Avatar,” the interpersonal relationships of the Red Lotus anarchists turn them into something more significant than set-’em-up-to-knock-’em-down obstacles.

    Not that “Korra” doesn’t have its issues. In the first season, a love square of sorts heralds all sorts of unwanted teen angst and overstays its welcome, while some characters, mostly on the side of good, do take a while to become fully fleshed out. The second season as a whole is a weak spot; its plot arc of bridging the real and spiritual worlds was never intended to exist when the miniseries was planned, and thus feels disconnected from the outstanding first season. Those holes, however, were mostly patched: the friendship dynamics and reconfigured world that were solidified in the third season will help start off the fourth season on more than solid ground.

    So where exactly do we begin with “After All These Years,” last Friday’s season premiere? Set three years after the season three finale, it’s haunted by that episode’s ending image: Avatar Korra, confined to a wheelchair, shedding a tear. She was beaten down, kidnapped, and just about killed, almost the ultimate victim of that anarchy group that already brought down one government and was ready to send the rest of the world into chaos. Maybe Korra succeeded in defeating the enemy, but she left with more than a few scars of her own, and not just physical ones. Someone asks her in the season premiere, not recognizing who she is, what ever happened to the Avatar. She doesn’t know, she says. If “The Legend of Korra” was at any point conceived to be a children’s show, it is not one anymore.

  • DC Comics Schools Readers With “Gotham Academy”

    c/o http://wac.450f.edgecastcdn.net/

    DC Comics’ Batman line is in the midst of a creative renaissance. With the launches of “Gotham Academy,” “Arkham Manor,” and “Gotham by Midnight,” the Batman line is, for the first time since DC’s 2011 reboot, shifting its focus away from grim stories exclusively about Batman and his comrades, allowing creators more freedom to experiment and explore different genres. For “Gotham Academy,” that means turning a spotlight on some of the ordinary citizens of Gotham City, namely students at the titular boarding school.

    “Gotham Academy” is produced by the creative team of co-writers Becky Cloonan and Brenden Fletcher, artist Karl Kerschl, and colorists Geyser and Dave McCaig. Having won the Eisner Award—the comic book equivalent of an Oscar—for Best Single Issue (or One Shot) in 2013 for her self-published comic, “The Mire,” and having received the honor in 2012 of being the first woman to draw a full issue of “Batman,” Cloonan is arguably the most prolific creator of the series. However, Cloonan is more known for her artwork than her writing; aside from swapping roles with writer Brian Wood for one issue of their Eisner-nominated series, “Demo,” Cloonan has never written a comic without also providing its artwork.

    Thankfully, Cloonan doesn’t seem to have had any trouble with the transition from writer/artist to co-writer; she and Fletcher have given the first issue a solid script. “Gotham Academy” is noticeably different from Cloonan’s previous work. Whereas “The Mire” and its companion pieces, “Wolves” and “Demeter,” were medieval horror comics, “Gotham Academy” is a fun young adult (YA) series set in modern times.

    This first issue feels very much like a tour of the academy itself, giving readers a sense of how things work there and the role that each character plays in the academy’s makeup. Though readers don’t get to know most of the cast quite as well as they do Olive Silverlock, the comic’s troubled main protagonist, the brief glimpses they are given of other characters are rich with detail, such as Pomeline Fritch’s disdainful reference to Olive’s Wayne Foundation scholarship and Maps’ casual mention of being “ninth level” and fighting a “Yothg’nki wizard” in what must have been some sort of roleplaying game. The characters also feel like actual citizens of Gotham City; they are not dazzled by Gotham’s eccentricities like we are. “It’s just the Bat-Signal,” Olive says at the end of the issue. “Same old thing as every other night.”

    Cloonan and Fletcher clearly intend to tell many stories in “Gotham Academy.” Though the main plot of this issue is self-contained, various mysteries are seeded throughout. While many feel like they will be resolved in the next few issues—the possible haunting in the academy’s North Hall being one—there are many more that feel as though some mysteries will be around for the long term: for example, why Olive despises Batman and what happened to her over the summer. All of the mysteries are intriguing, though, and there are certainly enough introduced in this issue to keep readers interested for a long time to come.

    That being said, this issue’s writing isn’t without flaws. For instance, while Olive’s internal monologue is a helpful way to get us inside of her head and provide exposition, there are points where it feels heavy-handed. Additionally, there are several moments that feel like they are just repeating information that has already been communicated. Thankfully, though, there are no serious missteps.

    This issue’s artwork is nothing short of stunning. When Cloonan was announced as a co-writer but not the artist for the book, I was disappointed. Kerschl, however, is a more-than-worthy replacement. Kerschl’s vibrant, expressive figures, combined with his detailed backgrounds, beautifully painted by McCaig and Geyser, make the artwork look as if it were taken directly from animation cells. Even though all of the students wear the Gotham Academy uniform, Kerschl manages to make them distinct from one another. Each student’s design suits hir personality, and they are all given little touches that highlight aspects of their characterization, such as Kyle’s ever-present tennis visor. Lastly, Kerschl’s layouts are wonderfully experimental, keeping each page feeling fresh and exciting. Unlike those of  many artists who try to break out of the typical layout formulas, Kerschl’s unique layouts add to the story, rather than make it more confusing, which is certainly a testament to his storytelling ability.

    “Gotham Academy” #1 is an incredibly charming introduction to a brand-new series. Detached from main Batman continuity, it is the perfect book for those completely new to comics or those who are looking for something a bit different from the rest of what DC is currently publishing. Hopefully, its solid cast and gorgeous artwork will be around for many more issues.

  • Who Wore it Wes: Reid Hildebrand ’15

    Gavriella Wolf/Staff Writer

    You may have noticed senior Reid Hildebrand’s signature, pared-down style, or wondered if his oversized glasses frames could actually be real. (His prescription is -9.75, so they absolutely are.) The film major and Charlottesville, Va. native has drawn fashion inspiration from the aesthetics in New York City and Kyoto, Japan, where he studied abroad, and says he is careful with his Instagram feed to find larger inspiration in art and architecture.

    The Argus: To what extent do you consider yourself interested in fashion?

    Reid Hildebrand: I consider myself interested in fashion from a much more third-person perspective. Like I follow what goes on with the labels, and seasons, and releases, and things like this, but as far as it applies to myself, it’s more just like a hobbyist interest that I enjoy other people doing. Because especially now, as like a 21-year-old, I don’t have very much money, and fashion is a very investment-oriented hobby, you know? So to be able to buy things, like new things all the time, you definitely need to be able to have cash turnover. And I don’t have a job. So I find it much easier to wear like, white t-shirts and black jeans everyday, and pay attention to what people are doing elsewhere.

    A: How long would you say you’ve been interested in fashion?

    RH: In some capacity, probably like four or five years. When I was younger, in high school, I made this short film, and it got accepted to the Los Angeles Film Festival, and my dad and I decided to go out there to the festival, to do the festival things. And before we went, my dad was like, “Alright, Reid. Here’s the deal. If you want to go rub elbows with people that make movies, you need to look the part.” So we went to the Urban Outfitters that had just opened up in my town, and bought some t-shirts, bought some jeans, and that was really it.

    A: Describe your personal style in three to five words.

    RH: Some people would for sure call it boring. But minimal, clean. I think restrained is a big one.

    A: What do you like most about style at Wesleyan?

    RH: Honestly, that there is some. Like a lot of college campuses have no semblance of style, and at Wesleyan, there seems to be sort of a status quo that the average M.O. is that you care about how you look. And so when you’re in an environment like that, it’s much more entertaining for someone like me, who enjoys seeing what other people wear. And also, if you’re into experimentation, you can go a little bit further than you could in a place like Charlottesville. When I was living in New York, when I was living in Japan, like, those are both places that have a very stylish way of going about things, and I find Wesleyan to be sort of like a microcosm of that.

    A: How has your style changed, if at all, since you came to Wesleyan?

    RH: I know my jeans are tighter than they were when I got here. When I got here I wore contacts, because I had worn glasses for, like, sixteen of the first eighteen years of my life. I had a couple medical issues with the contacts, and at some point I decided I could do two birds with one stone, and I could get rid of contacts, stop having the medical issues, and also get glasses and use them as sort of an accessory.

    A: Where are your favorite places to get your clothes?

    RH: Honestly, coming back to the thing in which I am a college student and I don’t have much money to spend, I do a lot of second-hand, not like thrift shopping, but like eBay. I have online shops that I really like to browse, for stylistic inspiration, like Très Bien and Totokaelo, those are two of my favorites. So I’ll take what they have and go to eBay, and see if anyone’s selling similar things. Because I don’t really believe in compromising: I’m pretty particular, which is why I have like one thing that I stick with. And I have patience, so I’m not against, like, checking eBay every day until five months later, I still want it, and it finally shows up, that’s a victory.

    A: How would you say the Internet influences your relationship with fashion?

    RH: I think the Internet in general has made fashion a lot less trendy and cyclical [than] it used to be. There’s still definitely trends that come and go, and they catch on very strong and then they disappear. But people always say that fashion is cyclical, and I don’t think that’s true necessarily as much as it used to be, because on the Internet, you have all sorts of pockets of people who are interested in different types of styles. I think the Internet has done a really great job in proliferating a diversity of styles that all have their own communities and are all strong in their own way.

    A: As a senior, how do you think your personal style will differ out in “the real world”? What will you miss about dressing for Wesleyan?

    RH: I’ve actually given that some thought, because honestly I can’t wear black skinny jeans forever because at a certain point, just like a “too old for this shit” sort of thing. But it really depends on where I move. Like I’ve been talking with friends about moving to New York, or to like Austin, Texas, or to New Orleans, and like, all those places have very distinctive atmospheres.

  • Christopher Owens Tries Half-Heartedly for Redemption on A New Testament

    c/o static.gum.co.uk

    There’s something undeniably ballsy about naming your record A New Testament. It almost reads like a challenge. But if there is any currently working musician who can put a new spin on rock’s invocation of religion, it’s Christopher Owens of Girls. Perhaps this stems from Owens’ extreme candor and incredible reflectiveness in discussing his time with the Children of God religious movement, or maybe it’s simply because of the gospel tones of Girls’ final record (appropriately titled Father, Son, Holy Ghost).

    Whatever the reason, the possibility of a Christopher Owens record directly engaging with religion seemed to move in a cloud around A New Testament for a while, and the excitement that combination instilled made the record that Owens ultimately produced more than a little disappointing.

    It’s important to say from the outset that A New Testament is by no means a bad record. It contains stretches of remarkable instrumentation, luscious orchestration, and a spare, attuned beauty that few musicians besides Owens can conjure. In fact, at times, this seems to be the album’s issue. At certain points, it’s almost too beautiful.

    When Lysandre, Owens’ first solo album, was released in 2013, it was only a moderate success, surprising many who had become enamored with the music Owens had been making with Girls since 2007. Many considered Lysandre bland, and, even as a fan of the record, I find it hard to disagree. Part of the magic of Girls was its ability to infuse the music with both beauty and unease. Listening to songs like “Vomit” or “My Ma” or “Die” off of Father, one is struck by their intricacy and elegance, but also by their weirdness. There seemed to be something lurking behind all of Girls’ work, and that charged the music with an unnameable power.

    In the case of Lysandre and now A New Testament, it’s hard to find anything like that. Certainly, both have moments of gravity and energy, but neither seems to be able to seize on the graceful, haunted queasiness that Owens was able to create when working with Girls. On a track-by-track basis, A New Testament has a lot to offer. Most fall under the three minute mark, and, taken on their own, each is engaging and impressive.

    On the other hand, when laid end to end, the parts of A New Testament never quite create an engrossing whole. It’s nearly impossible to listen to it without feeling a lack within the spaces between songs. By the midpoint of the record, the music seems to have settled into a comfortable, aesthetically pleasing monotony, adeptly integrating tropes of gospel and folk and rock without ever truly investigating or earning them. Possibly the best example of this is the record’s opener, “My Troubled Heart,” which seems to strive for an affecting examination of religious and romantic doubt, but ends up sounding like an outtake from Billy Joel’s “River of Dreams,” Valleys of Doubt and all.

    All of this is especially frustrating given Owens’ well-earned reputation as a songwriter. His best work manages to create an almost uncomfortable intimacy with the listener. On A New Testament, there’s barely anything like that. At times, it seems as though the record isn’t at all interested in what it’s supposed to be talking about, and at others, it isn’t even clear that Owens is sure what he wants to say. Songs like “Stephen” come blessedly close to letting us into Owens’ headspace, but quickly smother themselves under a marinade of choral refrains. On albums like Father, Owens demonstrated an ability to resurrect and reinvent what might otherwise be considered trite or lazy, adding something elusive to images such as a heartbroken man wandering the streets to make the idea seem new once more. Here, though, every cliché seems to slouch into the picture, deployed almost carelessly.

    At its best, A New Testament and Lysandre serve as an interesting set of appendices to Owens’ work with Girls. Both albums orbit many of the same topics that were covered on Father and Album (the band’s debut record), even if they never quite understand what allowed Girls to give those ideas and subjects life and intimacy. As a record in conversation with Owens’ earlier work, the album has the potential to grow. While it would be too easy and dismissive to call A New Testament lazy, it would be apt to say that it’s the sort of record that seems to carelessly and consistently court that charge.

  • New Laika Film Thinks Outside the Box(trolls)

    c/o listal.com

    Based on the novel “Here Be Monsters!” by Alan Snow, “The Boxtrolls” is the latest 3D stop motion film from Laika Entertainment, the company behind “Coraline” and “Paranorman.” It is set in the fictional Victorian town of Cheesebridge, England, where humans hide in their houses at night in fear of the titular Boxtrolls, creatures that they believe to be dangerous.

    The Boxtrolls come out of their underground hiding place at night in order to scavenge through trashcans for things they can potentially use in their inventions, all while being chased relentlessly by the Snatcher (voiced by Ben Kingsley) and his stooges. The protagonist, Eggs (voiced by Isaac Hempstead-Wright, who plays Bran Stark in “Game of Thrones”), is a young human boy named after the type of box he wears. Eggs is being raised by these creatures and, as a result, believes himself to be a Boxtroll. After he encounters a girl in the human world named Winnie (voiced by Elle Fanning), and the Snatcher captures his Boxtroll parent, Eggs goes on a journey to free the Boxtrolls and uncover his own true origin and identity.

    Thankfully, “The Boxtrolls” is not made for kids alone. Although children can enjoy its quirky black humor and highly likable characters, the story will make you think about power, society, and their effects on people both as individuals and as a group. It’s about those who live in their boxes, excluded from their society feared and degraded, yet making no attempt to earn their rightful place alongside the humans. “The Boxtrolls” contains a message for all to stand up, reclaim their rights, and to leave their boxes.

    The writers did a great job with the main villain, the Snatcher, by making him a truly unlikeable yet multidimensional character. That said, I wouldn’t be surprised if he became a favorite for some viewers. Notably, his allergy to cheese, a vital element the film’s plot, helps to create some truly comical scenes.

    With its 19th-century English setting, “The Boxtrolls:” takes full advantage of great music pieces composed by Dario Marianelli, who won a Golden Globe and an Oscar for his score of “Atonement.” “Quattro Sabatino,” for instance, is still playing repeatedly in my head.

    Though “The Boxtrolls” has not received as much promotion as Disney, Pixar, or DreamWorks films, this does not mean that it’s bad by any means. The 3D effects are not gimmicky at all, fortunately, but are instead a pleasing addition to the film. From its earth-toned world to its black humor, “The Boxtrolls” is a unique, enjoyable film. It’s a dark horse for those who’ve had enough of princesses and fairytales and are looking for something fresh and different. If you still remember the glory days of “Chicken Run” or “Coraline,” you won’t want to miss the magic of “The Boxtrolls.”

    This article was updated on Oct. 3 to comply with the Argus style guide. 

  • Idiot Box: Shondaland

    As a woman who hopes to make her career in the entertainment industry, I think there is no one I idolize, respect, and admire more than Shonda Rhimes. In case you are a strange soul who has not watched primetime television in the past ten years, Shonda Rhimes is the woman who created and runs ShondaLand, the company behind shows such as “Grey’s Anatomy,” “Private Practice,” “Scandal,” and, as of yesterday, “How to Get Away with Murder.” Starting this week, with “Grey’s” at 8 p.m., “Scandal” at 9 p.m., and “Murder” at 10 p.m., Shondaland dominates the entire Thursday night primetime block on ABC. This is an incredible accomplishment for any writer/producer, but particularly remarkable considering the fact that Rhimes is the first African-American woman to achieve such an impossible feat.

    However, I do not cherish Rhimes simply because of her Thursday night domination. Rather, I am eternally grateful to her for bringing characters and stories into my life to which I can connect on a deep emotional level. Whether it is comedy or drama, for me, a good television show is filled with great characters who all truly love each other. Well, there is no one who knows how to create many complex, interesting, “dark and twisty” characters who have messy, emotional, romantic, and professional lives like Rhimes does. And, through all of the trauma and heartache, at the end of the day, they all sincerely care about each other. All of her shows feature large, diverse ensemble casts and are headed by female leading characters. While all of the shows contain several passionate and sexy romantic relationships, the true genius of her shows is the way that, in the end, it is the friendships that are the most significant and powerful.

    Now, unfortunately, this paper had to go to print before I could watch last night’s season premieres of “Grey’s” and “Scandal” and the series premiere of “Murder.” So, in lieu of recapping those (I’m sure) amazing episodes, I will instead remind us of where we left off last season, and what we know about what is to come. Warning, if you have never watched either “Grey’s” or “Scandal,” MAJOR SPOILERS AHEAD!

    Despite the fact that the show is in its eleventh season, the upcoming season of “Grey’s Anatomy” is bound to be utterly different from anything we still-devoted fans have seen before, for one crucial reason: It will lack Dr. Cristina Yang. In the Season 10 finale, Yang finally leaves for Zürich, but not before having one final dance party with her “person,” Dr. Meredith Grey. Meredith needs to dance it out because in addition to her best friend moving around the world, she is fighting with her husband: He wants to take a job in Washington, D.C., but she does not want to move. This prompts Yang’s last words to Mer: “Don’t let what he wants eclipse what you need. He’s very dreamy, but he’s not the sun; you are.” I sobbed so hard that my best friend, an extreme fan herself, was genuinely concerned about the extent to which I get emotionally attached to fictional characters. Honestly, I’m crying just writing about it. Although I have spent all summer preparing myself for the fact that Yang will no longer be in Seattle, I doubt I’ll ever fully be prepared for her absence.

    In addition to Yang leaving, we found out that April and Jackson are expecting a baby, Dr. Bailey and Alex are going to be on the board of the hospital, Meredith has a half-sister who works at the hospital, and Amelia, Derek’s little neurosurgeon sister, is sticking around. And, of course, the fate of favorite couple Callie and Arizona is still up in the air. Even without Dr. Cristina Yang, there is still a wonderful handful of Seattle doctors to love and learn from.

    Over in Washington, D.C., at the end of the season, the world of “Scandal” is left without its central figure: Olivia Pope. In the final moments, she and Jake board a private plane to an undisclosed destination. Fitz and Mellie have just won a second term but tragically lose their only son, who incidentally was killed by Olivia’s father. Huck and Quinn, or “Huckleberry Quinn,” as fans have deemed them, are in a tough position. Quinn informs Huck that the family he left behind is still alive and we are left not knowing what is to come for him. Also, Harrison is dead, so we will have to see how the members of Olivia Pope and Associates process his loss. Word on the street is that season four will be the Abby season. All I hope for is more drunk Mellie, and an answer to the question, “Where in the world is Olivia Pope?”

    As for the new series, “How to Get Away with Murder,” we can expect to enter the world of a law professor, her firm, and a handful of her students. That law professor happens to be played by Academy Award nominee Viola Davis. The ensemble cast also features Liza Weil, who played Paris on “Gilmore Girls,” and Matt McGorry, who plays resident “Orange is the New Black” C.O. hottie Bennett. I can’t wait to become obsessed with yet another group of twisted, smart, and extremely good-looking people.

    Overall, I am sure that this season of ShondaLand will live up to its logo, which is a roller coaster surrounding a heart. It will be filled with dynamic and sometimes scary twists and turns, but in the end, genuine love is left at the core.

  • Muslim Women Emcees Dish Out Best of Planet Hip-Hop

    Trisha Arora/Staff Photographer

    “Do you think I should end with this, like, weird, experimental jazz thing, or…”

    The audience didn’t even let her finish.

    “You’re at Wesleyan!” someone in the crowd shouted. “Always go weird!”

    Maimouna Youssef (also known as D.C.-based singer-songwriter/emcee Mumu Fresh) obliged, sweetly singing a Choctaw lullaby over slowly unfolding keyboards and bass. And over that, as she is wont to do, Mumu Fresh rapped. It indeed was weird, but any other end to the concert would not have sufficed.

    Those students, faculty, and scattered others who stayed in Beckham Hall until the very end were rewarded Saturday night with all the best Planet Hip-Hop had to offer. Part of the Center for the Arts’ ongoing Muslim Women’s Voices series, the Planet Hip-Hop concert capped off a day of freestyling, verse-writing, and spiritual workshops with an exhibition of the talents of its three central artists: Miss Undastood, Meryem Saci, and, of course, Mumu Fresh.

    With a still-seated audience and the backing of a D.J., Queens emcee Miss Undastood (neé Tavasha Shannon, who way-back-when in 2003 was the first woman to take the title of rap battle champion at the Borough of Manhattan Community College) started off the night in an overtly religious vein. The only one of the three performers in a full hijab, Miss Undastood sounded more rap-ducational than hip-hop on songs like “Praying For You” and “Show Me How to Cover” (a pro-modesty re-write of “Teach Me How to Dougie”).

    However, the entrance of Saci, along with a full band of keyboards, drums, bass, and guitar, heralded a more energetic turn. Born in Algeria, Saci fled to Montreal, Canada at age 13 to escape a civil war, joining the multicultural, multilingual hip-hop supergroup Nomadic Massive in 2005. (True fact: it’s illegal to live in Montreal and not participate in a supergroup.) Even by herself, about to put out her first solo record, Saci is a force to be reckoned with, bounding around stage spitting verses like, “Do the math, not your medium, not your average / Spicy African mix, Berber heritage.” Although she only guested on the original cut of that tune, “Average Type,” you wouldn’t know otherwise; Saci handled both the verses and the hooks with aplomb.

    Her R&B side came out more readily in her solo single “Float,” a silky smooth soul tune propelled by a slinky bass line and Saci’s effortless upper registers. Saci and Youssef stepped up as singers more often than they did as rappers, every so often sprinkling spoken word and freestyle sections in their songs. I would be remiss if I didn’t mention Saci’s lingual hopping, like on “7araga” or “Curly Fro,” a tribute to her natural, chemical-free hair (and a better self-love anthem than Lady Gaga’s far inferior “Hair”) in which she jumped from English to French to Arabic and back in the length of a chorus. Or, as Saci might rap, “Burning bridges, burning borders, cutting corners, breaking orders.”

    Of all the musicians on the stage Saturday night, Youssef was by far the most well established as a solo artist. Grammy-nominated as a guest on the Roots’ 2006 album Game Theory, Youssef is fresh off the release of her new mixtape, The Reinvention of Mumu Fresh. It’s a bold move to call yourself “a fresh blend between Nina Simone and Lauryn Hill,” as her website declares, but Youssef isn’t too far off. She pulled off “Black Magic Woman,” a true-to-form Mississippi electric blues jam, as handily as “We’re Already Royal,” a response to Lorde’s condemnation of conspicuous consumption, declaring poverty the reality: “Every day we hustling / Tryin’ fill that dinner plate / We don’t care/ The underdog don’t have no fear.”

    Youssef gave the backing band a run for its money, deviating from the setlist and forcing the drummer to watch her signals, remixing her own arrangements as she went. Completely in command of her music, Youssef also exhibited absolute command over the too-sparse crowd, getting hands up in the air and trying to see if the audience could match her vocal aerobatics (we couldn’t). On that front, however, Saci just about matched, demanding complete attention for a call-and-response chorus that centered everyone’s attention right where it should have been.

    Making the personal political and the political pop, Miss Undastood, Saci, and Youssef showed off not just their voices but also their experiences, influences, and beliefs. As women, as Muslims, and as hip-hop artists, they found ready and willing listeners at Wesleyan.

    Nothing weird about that.