photography thread.

So I just came across this adorable picture of photographer Richard Avedon and Twiggy in my endless e-mail sorting (a very daunting task). I've always loved Twiggy and sent myself the link after searching Avedon's photography when my friend Liz did a photo shoot emulating his work of Marilyn Monroe.



A couple weeks later Liz did a photo shoot with a few of us themed "caught in the act." Mine was a bar brawl mug shot... ;]



Photo Credit: Elizabeth Barton
Makeup Credit: Sarah Larson



Shortly before that shoot, Rach and I did a couple with Brian Milo in Rockford: The Ring/GaGa themed and absolutely FREEZING COLD. But we got some good ones.

Brian Milo




























We're weird.

review.

So I watched a very appropriate film for my philosophical situation as of late, one that asks the same, typical
life-questions as any disillusioned alum: "If we're all going to die the moment we graduate, isn't it what we do before that counts?"



An Education: Lone Scherfig.





I sound just as campy as James Lipton right now, but I actually was profoundly impressed by the subject matter of the
film. Not since All I Wanna Do with the masterful Lynn Redgrave, R.I.P. (who, I'm proud to say, played opposite my
sister Alyssa in their roles as Queen Elizabeth I and new world-bound Eleanor Dare, respectively, at Waterside
Theater's annual production of The Lost Colony in North Carolina, but I digress...) have I seen a film that so deftly
tackled the second wave-feminist ideals of teenage girls in the 60s, with a minimal but appropriate sense of humor--ya
know, the whole "I'm so wise beyond my 17.5 years and super witty too" kind of skepticism toward sex, family, gender
roles, career goals, and (you guessed it) female higher education. I watched the 'making of' segment, and one of the
producers mentioned the film's relational capabilities toward its audience. Who better to relate to protagonist Jenny's
English literature devoted, French language/culture loving character than myself?

Basic plot: 16 year old academic ingenue Jenny, played by 25 year old Carrie Mulligan, falls in love with a creepy Peter
Sarsgaard after his character David hits on her from his maroon sports car while she's standing in the rain. The film
never delves much into his character, despite what one of the producers described as "a multi-layered man," and Carrie
did a good acting job I guess, but mostly because she played herself: a well-educated 25 year old, not a doe-eyed teen.
He wines and dines her classical music and art fetish with orchestral concerts and pre-Raphaelite painting auctions
and eventually takes her to Paris for a silent, slightly cheesy montage of every scenic area in the city. Needless to say,
Jenny must inevitably choose (though I'm not exactly sure why) if she wants to marry him or finish her high school
education (presumably because second wave feminism ordained that a girl could not have both [??]).

The film's depiction of 60s rural England is magic, and the costumes made me really want to take on the Mad Men
phenomenon. I mean, just take a look at the still above, and you can see that the cinematography is like the oil painting
Jenny adores. I will say that the whole Lolita storyline is a bit over done, but I enjoyed the nervous-turned-sure
dynamic of Jenny's feelings toward David. Better yet was the film's analysis of critical aestheticism/liberal arts and
their non-existent use in post-grad society.


My dilemma exactly.


Here's my favorite exchange between Jenny and her headmistress (except this woman had nowhere near the same
impact as Lynn Redgrave in her similar role):


"It's not enough to educate us anymore, Miss Walters. You've got to tell us why you're doing it."

(Long, unsure pause.)

"It doesn't have to be teaching, you know. There's a civil service."

(Another long pause, apparently not pleased with this answer.)

"I don't wish to be impertinent, Miss Walters, but it is an argument worth rehearsing. You never know, someone else
might want to know the point of it all one day."


And why was this my favorite dialogue of the movie?? Because whenever anyone asks me what I want to do with an
English degree they'll cut in with, "Teach??" before I even have the chance to answer the question. I certainly do not
wish to diminish anyone's teaching aspirations, but I do firmly believe that one should have a passion for it. And I
know I'm not one of those people. So that leaves me wondering if my love for literature and film is wasted if not
imposed on the minds of the young in a classroom. I certainly hope not.

It's funny; I feel that the film's ending leaves the "what to do with an English degree" question somewhat unanswered,
and where Jenny may have come up with a good counter to her headmistress, she pretty much backpedals into Miss
Walters' strict coherence with second wave feminist ideals: men and relationships are bad, free-thinking and Charlotte Bronte cure all.

Thus, I'm not a huge fan of the film's boxy ending, but for the most part it stuck to a rounded interpretation of the
age-old "loss of innocence" and the even older theme of emotional redemption: you've gotta go through hell and back
to find yourself, and even then the image gets fragmented.

If nothing else, I liked coming away pretending that the similar interests Jenny and I shared merited someday being
given this same compliment:

"The thing is Jenny, you know...without necessarily being able to explain why. See, you have taste. That's not half the
battle, that's the whole war."

Feel free to imagine that your personal aesthetics deserve winning the whole war, too. In the meantime, I'm going to
assume that flipping burgers for the rest of my life will at least be enhanced by recognizing the aesthetic aspects of the
golden arches in comparison to Hawthorne's scarlet letter.

;]

watch it.

Excerpts from my film analysis:

"Alice in the Cities' attitude toward American culture does not stray far from German sentiment during that time: a mixture of antipathic inclinations that fluctuate with a "hate to love," reluctant attraction to the idea of American culture. In other words, the characters' attitudes toward their American surroundings are often reflected through respect, intrigue, and distaste all at once.

The combination of these images and the narratives they represent creates a genuine relationship between Alice and Philip that helps reconcile both characters to their original German heritage. Wenders uses this relationship to also reconcile German viewers with their absent culture and help create a new film culture that will promote positive German identity rather than the negative neo-Nazi identity the country acquired after the war.

The geographical directions of the plane heading west at the beginning of the film and the train heading east at the end of the film unmistakably represent the United States and Europe, respectively. Wenders' film begins in New York and moves east to Europe just as Philip's journey takes him from western America all the way east to New York. Wenders uses his narrative and opening/closing shots to illustrate the movement and influence of American culture on the East, especially Germany, after World War II. However, these shots do not portray a negative view of Europe as do so many other plot elements of the film. Instead, Wenders conciliates the two cultures through his resolution. Philip reluctantly returns to Europe after his journey across America, but it is only at the very end on the train car with Alice that he finally realizes he is able to finish his story. It is as though Alice's youthful Germanic/European camaraderie is the only influence that can resolve the ending of his American adventure story, which allows European culture to take the lead over American culture for the first time in the film. The train car heads further east to Germany as the film ends, which shows Wenders intentions of returning to an original Germanic culture that was lost after the world wars."

So this is my cousin Brooke's facebook status right now...

"dear summer, please come. i need you. that is all. love, brooke."

here here.

Poetry.

So I was creeping around blogs today and came across this...

and I love it.

Lesson From The Kama Sutra

Lesson From The Kama Sutra
by Mahmoud Darwish

Wait for her with an azure cup.
Wait for her in the evening at the spring, among perfumed roses.
Wait for her with the patience of a horse trained for mountains.
Wait for her with the distinctive, aesthetic taste of a prince.
Wait for her with the seven pillows of cloud.
Wait for her with strands of womanly incense wafting.
Wait for her with the manly scent of sandalwood on horseback.
Wait for her and do not rush.
If she arrives late, wait for her.
If she arrives early, wait for her.
Do not frighten the birds in her braided hair.
Take her to the balcony to watch the moon drowning in milk.
Wait for her and offer her water before wine.
Do not glance at the twin partridges sleeping on her chest.
Wait and gently touch her hand as she sets a cup on marble.
As if you are carrying the dew for her, wait.
Speak to her as a flute would to a frightened violin string,
As if you knew what tomorrow would bring.
Wait, and polish the night for her ring by ring.
Wait for her until the night speaks to you thus:
There is no one alive but the two of you.
So take her gently to the death you so desire,
and wait.

A Grad's Epilogue...or is it Introduction?

So the passing of two very important events has allowed me to feel that I can guiltlessly return my attention to this beloved blog:

1. Season 4, episode 12 of Dexter.

2. Graduation.

proud fam.


proud boy.



The only thing I'm asking myself in regards to both is, "what next?"

I guess I still have to finish the novel that Dexter was based on, and there are plenty of interviews I could watch. Alex
and I were reluctant to finish off the season since #5 doesn't start until Sep. 27. But let me tell you, it's been a roller-
coaster of emotion, expectation, and philosophical discussion on the gray areas of morality throughout our viewer
experience, and it's made me realize, "Umm...I may be more upset that Dexter is ending than I am my college career..."

The funny thing is, I could use the same 'roller-coaster' metaphor for that same college career. It is, of course, a slightly
bittersweet time for me. I'd be lying if I said I wouldn't miss the general world of Academia; or weekend drinks after a
hard final; or lunch with friends in the Inner Circle; or the walk from UIC's fitness center to the train with a gorgeous
Chicago skyline perched in front me against a blue-black night sky; or the classrooms full of kids who actually want to
discuss the juxtaposition of Wim Wenders post-war German ideals with his filmic use of narrative and imagery in Alice
in the Cities (excellent movie, btw); or my Gothic, concrete jungle campus in the dead of winter; or taking the packed,
wet, and smelly blue line 10 stops south to a midterm I haven't studied for with spilled coffee, awkward winterwear,
and last night's unfinished homework while the bum across from me stares creepily past 8 plastic bags...

Oh wait, that last one might be a lie.

To be honest, there's a lot that I won't miss. More than anything I felt stifled toward the end, and I couldn't be more
relieved that my life of assigned critical and creative writing is over. I am eternally grateful for the wealth of literary,
historical, and cinematic works that I was introduced to by professors who I feel took genuine interest in honing my
critical thinking. But I'm grateful, too, that I can pursue at will those areas of study that most intrigued me without
being forced to analyze them in a specific way. Being given a parameter of 8 pages to express someone else's thoughts
made it difficult to put all of my creative and critical energy into papers and short stories whose topics I honestly did
care about, and my apathetic attitude eventually became a guilty one. For example:

- I really want to finish Benito Cereno by Herman Melville because I couldn't bring myself to do it when it was assigned
for my Literature and Pop Culture course.

- I wrote two short stories that I'm actually very proud of, but both need revisions that I couldn't find the energy to
apply for my final portfolio.

- My final senior thesis "Television Media Treatment of Celebrity Death" (for which I won an award presenting a
portion at Notre Dame's Midwest Film and Television conference, I might add) was pretty much thrown together and
finished the night before it was due when I had all semester to neatly organize my argument.

These are just a few admissions of my procrastination last semester, each of which I suppose can be seen as an
accomplishment in their own rite. But personally, they would have been more of an accomplishment if I had been able
to put all of my energy into them without having a grade attached.

I guess you could say my excuse is a cop-out; that even now after there are no more deadlines my apathy won't permit
me to pursue classic texts of my own free will...

but I hope it's not. And I certainly plan on rejuvenating my creative mind this summer by tackling a number of projects
that I've wanted to undertake for some time.

1. This blog (especially segments that cover fashion, film, and literary reviews...oh, and the past few months' big
adventures including my Florida road trip with Alex, internship at Gene Siskel, and European jaunt with Rach, Ash, and Kari for nostalgia's sake!)

2. Finish reading Benito Cereno, Psycho, Darkly Dreaming Dexter, Middlesex, Gravity's Rainbow, and Louise Brooks.

3. Watch one new Hitchcock film per week.

4. Revise my two short stories.

5. Write a screenplay!!

6. Apply for jobs (not exactly creative therapy, but necessary...and rewarding!)



A good start for now, I think. Plus, three months in Florida for my internship at Destination Weddings and
Honeymoons magazine will hopefully be a good hiatus to get all of them accomplished!!

Wish me luck.

pop culture.

So just a small deviation from the European anecdotes: Rach told me about these chains, and I love them.

ilovewildfox.com

the end.



Oh one more thing. I've been obsessed with both Dexter and Analog Rebellion lately, and please tell me if these two haunting melodies don't just remind you exactly of each other...

"Jenny Jenny..who can I turn to"

So I saw my lovin' in Leuven friend Jenny for the first time since I've been back in Chicago not too long ago, and it was sO amazing to see one of the people I bonded with so dearly while gone. En fait, she was the first European buddy I've seen at all (besides my best friends of course). Don't ask me why it took Jen and me two weeks of co-habitation in Chicago to get together, but it did. And it was a glorious reunion, let me tell ya. I pretty much tackled her in a hug, and neither of us could believe that the other was physically standing right there. It had been almost two months, after all. We chatted about life at home, her reunion with her boy, my reunion with mine, and a few other important catch-up items on the it's-been-far-too-long to-do list, but then conversation instantly got nostalgic.

"Ohh my goodness, the last time I saw you we were in PARIS."
"Yah..I know, Jen..absolutely INsane."

I couldn't help but be reminded of the first time we'd seen each other in two months in the Belgian equivalent of a Quizno's..."Jenny?! Ohh my goodness, it's so good to see a friend from home in Europe!" And then again, outside the Oberkampf stop at the Metro Café in Paris. Funny how life works.

Jenny and I always find ourselves being dramatically relieved to see each other after a significant time apart, and that night at Oberkampf was no different. Her and Horacio had gotten there earlier in the afternoon and had already seen the Eiffel Tower, Notre Dame, and the Louvre. I was detained by my program's Thanksgiving dinner, which was good in the turkey and green beans department but left some to be desired in the "bread" stuffing department...try weird spam paté. I successfully met up with J and H around 10:45 p.m. sans communication devices, plus de Mary Margaret. We grabbed a couple of drinks at one of our jaunts Le Café Bicyclette and wandered the wrong direction down Oberkampf to end up at a trendy bar that closed 15 minutes after we got there.

Funny story: Jenny had just been to a city outside of Brussels where the intense cold made it so that she and Horatio could go ice skating at an outdoor Christmas village. Problem: Jenny didn't have any socks. After a long time of visiting multiple shops to see if anybody had a pair to spare*, she finally found success and could go skate. (And she got a pretty cute picture of herself doing it, I might add.) Just before leaving that trend bar in the Marais's Oberkampf, a bartender asked, "Est-ce que vous avez perdue des chaussettes??" He was asking our foursome if any of us had lost socks and held up a pair of women's the same size as Jenny's petite foot. What are the hilarious odds that such a fortunate offer would come just a few days too late?

"...SOCKS."

The next day was a whirlwind tour of the city: back to the Louvre for a view of the Mona Lisa, Nike, Venus de Milo, and Napoleon apartments, up to Montmartre to see Sacré Coeur, over to the Arc de Triomph and a walking tour of the Champs Elysée, and then back to Montmartre for dinner before we met up with Mary Margaret at the Bastille for drinks at Bar des Familles. [Whew] My favorite part of the day was our visit to Sacré Coeur (surprise, surprise) where we hung out on the cathedral's steps for a much needed break and listened to a young duo of English fellows performing covers of "Johnny Be Good" and Damien Rice. They were surprisingly good so here's a sample:




The lovely Nike.


Jen and Venus! (or is it Aphrodite...)


My new favorite painting at the Louvre: Anne-Louis Girodet de Roussy-Trioson "Pygmalion et Galatée"


We decided this was Jen and her boy Manny...same color hair (respectively) and loving affection~~


Les Jardins de la Butte.


My beloved basilica.


Probably the best picture I took while abroad.


C'était un Rendez-Vous.


Champs-Elysée.




How I miss this.


The three of us celebrated their last day with a chilly day picnic of bread and camembert at the Eiffel Tower. I saw them to the Oberkampf stop where we said our bittersweet good-byes and anticipated what it would be like reuniting in Chicago. Horacio and I were thankful tourist and guide (respectively) for sharing such an awesome experience, and Jenny and I decided that we should have been close friends a long, loooong time ago.



The same sentiments were shared at the bar in Lincoln Park, and she reiterated the fact that Horatio was impressed with how composed I had been that weekend in grandiose Paris. I could certainly look back on that weekend with pride myself. And what's more, I appreciate our accomplishment of having a grasp on such a big place. Those monument visits would be some of the last before I came home, and I was glad their company forced me out of bed and out into the city.

Now I all I need is a French friend to come visit me in Chicago to have the same motivation. This place is just TOO COLD!**

*Seinfeld.
**Friends.

;]




Post Script.

Ironically, I came across this video just now looking for the name of the gardens at Sacré Cœur. Snow Patrol took footage from a short film by Claude Lelouch called C'était un Rendez-Vous for their video "Open Your Eyes," where both the concept and words are a fitting description of the weekend I spent with Jen and Horacio: fast-paced, eyes wide open, and our exact route, starting at the Louvre and ending at the basilica. On top of that, the beginning guitar cords remind me of "I Gotta Feeling," which only reminds me of my beloved techno parade also in the streets of Paris.

So many full circles, I just love it.


Snow patrol open your eyes



Uncanny resemblance.


Maclet Elisée

First Remembrances: La Famille Part II

So I saw a "Vosges Chocolat" bag spotted on the blue line at Damen, a cute French chocolate boutique that just happens to be two establishments down from my friends Kari and Lili's apartment. But that's just a coincidence. This simple purple bag reminded me of Erika and Philip's first night in Paris. My parents and myself ate at the Café des Vosges the night before and returned with my siblings to experience the soup d'oignon and bifteck with garlic mashed potatoes. Afterwards, my sister was ambitious enough to suggest a trip to the Eiffel Tower as it seemed appropriate for one of their first nights in town. We made it just in time for one of the light shows, and myself as tour guide was happy that the seven-minute shows were still running in accordance with tribute to its 125th anniversary of construction. It felt surreal to be somewhere so familiar with my equally familiar loved ones.

The fam at the tower.


The next night we ate dinner at the lovely Veronique's, who I've been meaning to e-mail lately. I've had plenty of time to ask her about her new year but just haven't gotten around to it yet. I'm especially curious to know how her new roommate is getting along...yes, she's hosting a new young American lady this semester ;] Anyhoo, she was on her most beloved behavior when the fam came to dine. We had a lovely meal and were entertained by stories of her recent history, sons, and everyday Parisian life. We all loved her and felt such similarities in lifestyle that a language barrier didn't really matter.

I took my first and only picture with her that night. I'm very glad my dad insisted on it. I do miss her.

V and me.


The next day's family time only included a quick trip to Notre Dame and the Esmerelda Café (yes, the latter was my idea...I'm so Disney cliché, I know). The highlight was definitely our climb to the top of the cathedral where multiple pictures of gargoyles and bell towers were enjoyed by all. I even got some pious tributes to their clanging at midday...pretty beautiful if I do say so myself.



Lightning rod.














I just love this picture.



The luxury of Starbucks here in the states still reminds me of enjoying one of my first drip coffees in the Louvre Carousel while waiting for my family later on that day. They managed to spend five or six straight hours in the Louvre. I had never known my family prided themselves on having such artistic disposition!

We wandered around afterwards in the Tuileries Gardens at night and took pictures in front of a foggy Eiffel Tower. I think that was the first time I'd ever seen the Louvre and its surroundings at night. We got a little lost and had a hard time deciding on dinner but eventually ended up at the Sarah Bernhardt Cafe at Chatelet after a long walk along the Seine. I recall my sister Erika saying that this was her favorite memory of Paris: that shiny river in the cold of the night...with family, and husband of course.

We finally made our way to the Seine riverboat tour after hurriedly asking for times of departure earlier in the evening. Kids insisted on a rooftop view, and parents reluctantly agreed despite the bitter cold. We saw everything from the Bastille to Notre Dame to the Eiffel Tower to Hotel de Ville to, my favorite, La Conciergerie (a prison museum that I would later visit with the girls!) It was a clear night and the whole trip reintroduced a Paris that didn't seem so far apart and remote. The whole city made more sense, and the bridges looked magnificent in the late evening. The layout of the city is impressively perfect.

[I love the things I recall from what feels like forever ago...at least I know for sure these specific memories really meant something.]









The last big day trip involved a trek out to Versailles with...(drum roll please:) the lovely Mary Margaret. The two of us fortunately got in for free with one history of art French student i.d. (M.M.) and one imitation "history of art" regular French student i.d. card (me). As a family, we spent a couple of hours on the grounds, amongst the gardens, and a significant amount of wanderings in Marie Antoinette's "country town," complete with cottages, ponds, trellises, and goats. For real.













The rest of the day was spent in the palace itself floating through kingly halls and bedrooms in all their frilly, lacey, and wall-papered glory. A slightly quick trip, but les halles de glace (the hall of mirrors) was worth it in and of itself.







Our last dinner in Paris was salt crêpes at Crêperie Imogene near my apartment in Oberkampf (ahh Oberkampf, such memories). I would certainly suggest this itty bitty café to anyone staying in the area. My sister and her husband found it, after all. Must've been good ;]



I miss these so much, but fortunately there's a cute crêpe restaurant that just opened down the street from my apartment!! Serendipity.

We said our good-byes to the parents the next day after many hugs and thanks. A couple of croissants and café au laits later, Erika and Philip were rushing for metro ticket coins at Gare du Nord, and regretted good byes were exchanged on all accounts. I lonesomely wandered upstairs to buy over-priced train tickets for an adventure with three of my best friends that was yet three weeks and a few finals away, so at least I had something to look forward to.

As I wander around the metro system here in Chicago and even as I sped around Rockford's city streets, I think about the joys and frustrations of travel abroad that I shared with each and every one of these people...and how much our experiences upon destination made up for the difficult pilgrimages themselves. I was blessed beyond belief that my family could visit me while I was there. Looking at our pictures together brings so many emotions: wanting to laugh hysterically, smile broadly, or cry happy tears in remembrance. Sometimes all three.

What made it priceless more than anything else was bonding with my dad over our similar experiences abroad. He backpacked through Europe for a couple months when he was 20, and he made it clear early on in my collegiate career that he wanted me to study abroad. As we stood next to each other that night at the Eiffel Tower, I glanced over at his lit up face and pictured him sitting on a bench gazing up at the same tower, 20 years old with nothing but his military jacket, map, backpack, and a French baguette, and the realization hit me hard: I could relate with my dad and his youth better than I ever had before. I understand better in retrospect that he wanted so bad for me to have my own adventure just like he'd had his back in the day. Susie-mom, too, was so supportive of my time abroad, and I'm still thankful that they pushed me to do it.

Yah, I'd say I got pretty lucky with those two...