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This week, JR’s eyes in #BlackLivesMatter protest, Republicans and torture, museums and big data, saving Wikipedia, the meaning of graffiti in ancient Rome, and more.
The nature of evil has been a Republican obsession since immediately after 9/11. Evil is not only present in our enemies but, at times, their most distinguishing characteristic. (Bush’s “Axis of Evil” conveniently lumped together the otherwise unallied Iran, Iraq, and North Korea.) Human-rights violations are things bad guys do. We’re the good guys. “The United States of America is awesome. We are awesome,” insisted the apparently sincere Fox News host Andrea Tantaros last week. “This administration wants to have this discussion to show us how we’re not awesome.” As a frank display of unreasoning chauvinistic bellicosity, this was, in its own way, awesome. It was also no less sophisticated a response than Dick Cheney’s, who quickly dismissed the Senate’s detail-laden report as “hooey,” “full of crap,” and “a crock.”
Across the country, museums are mining increasingly detailed layers of information about their guests, employing some of the same strategies that companies like Macy’s, Netflix and Wal-Mart have used in recent years to boost sales by tracking customer behavior. Museums are using the visitor data to inform decisions on everything from exhibit design to donor outreach to gift-shop marketing strategies.
… As museums collect more personal information from their guests, privacy advocates warn, they’re opening themselves up to the same kinds of security breaches and potential lawsuits that have roiled companies like Home Depot and eBay. And with data-mining tools able to calculate a show’s most popular artworks, some museum observers worry that curators will choose exhibits that are the most crowd pleasing instead of the most challenging or artistically significant.
Chuck D, who once called hip-hop the black CNN, in what’s since become one of the most shopworn cliches in the history of hip-hop journalism, often touted the Internets’ potential in this regard.
J. Cole, to his credit, actually visited Ferguson and also released an ostensibly-touching tribute that may have been the first Mike Brown song to hit the Internets, a little over a week after the shooting. “Be Free” finds the rapper, who’s often verbose to the point where people on Twitter joke about his bars putting people to sleep, singing rather than rapping—and not very well, I might add.
Two weeks after the Mike Brown shooting, The Game released “Don’t Shoot,” featuring himself, Diddy, Rick Ross and maybe 8 or 10 other people. In it, Diddy plugs Ciroc vodka and Rick Ross refers to himself as the Bawse. The song is front-loaded with the most-famous rappers, and I’m hardly familiar with the last few guys. The one time I listened to it, I cut it off after Rawse’s verse. Proceeds will be donated to Mike Brown’s family, if anyone actually buys a copy.
This indifference hasn’t always been the case. It used to be, a rapper wouldn’t just wait until an unarmed black kid was shot dead in the street, or choked out on a sidewalk, to write a song about it. He’d write a song about it before it even happened, and then he’d write another song praising himself for having such foresight. Rap music wasn’t just the black CNN: it was the black Psychic Friends Network. In fact, the history of rap music could be viewed as a litany of complaints about the police that seems to have predicted this current state of unrest.
Kids who once shot grainy videos in their bedrooms are now uploading fully realized short films, with scripts and costumes and production coordinators. Buffer Festival, held in the same building that hosts the Toronto International Film Festival, felt like a medium flexing its muscles: YouTubers are not just filmmakers, but rich and popular ones who are every bit as deserving of a red carpet treatment and a gala screening as the snotty TIFFcrowd.
“The encyclopedia that anyone can edit” is at risk of becoming, in computer scientist Aaron Halfaker’s words, “the encyclopedia that anyone who understands the norms, socializes him or herself, dodges the impersonal wall of semiautomated rejection and still wants to voluntarily contribute his or her time and energy can edit.” An entrenched, stubborn elite of old-timers, a high bar to entry, and a persistent 90/10 gender gap among editors all point to the possibility that Wikipedia is going adrift. Because Wikipedia is so unprecedented, I cut it a lot of slack, but precisely for that reason, it faces unanticipated dangers and no easy solution.
For many in the trans community, just applying for basic identification documents is a hostile experience. You’re told you don’t belong because you don’t fit into one of the tiny boxes offered by the system. And for those of us in the military, this civil rights violation of trans people’s basic identity is downright life-threatening.
In the United States, the UK and most of Europe, there are only two options available for gender designation on government-issued identification documents: male and female. As a result, trans people are assumed to have a gender that aligns with the sex they were assigned at birth – that is, male for trans women and female for trans men – and those not conforming to either of those choices are assumed not to exist. So trans people are forced to either use a document that does not reflect their identity or to spend the time, effort and money necessary to alter such records. Both situations are frustrating, embarrassing and can expose us to humiliation, ridicule and even violence.
Despite bureaucratic assumptions, we exist.
Throughout history, unlicensed writing on walls has been linked with anti-establishment behaviour, from schoolboy pranks to full-blown insurgency
Many of these expectations hold good for the Roman world as well. Martial, a poet who made much of the borderline ephemerality of his epigrams, tells one addressee that he won’t waste satirical words on him: he needs to look for some “drunk poet of the dark brothel, who, with crude charcoal and crumbling chalk, writes poems which people read while they shit.” Cicero records that the Sicilians expressed their displeasure with their corrupt governor Verres by scrawling insults about his mistress above the platform where he made his speeches. Emperor Nero’s critics festooned his statues with abusive verses. Rape threats and excremental language may seem all too familiar verbal substitutes for taboo behaviour and public nuisance, but they also speak of a brash society that was used to framing politics, personal relations and public performance in strong sexual and scatological metaphors.
Yet, as Kristina Milnor argues in Graffiti and the Literary Landscape in Roman Pompeii, Pompeian graffiti is not always the naive, unmediated vox populi it seems to be. These amateur scrawls often engage boldly and gleefully with the central productions of high literary culture, are as self-conscious about their materiality and creative powers as more respected literary texts, and collapse traditional distinctions and hierarchies between oral and written and primary and secondary to a confusing degree. Few can compete with the selfreflexivity of the following priceless specimen: “I’m amazed, wall, that you haven’t fallen down in ruins, since you bear the tedious outpourings of so many writers”. But many other graffitists draw superfluous attention to the written nature of their interventions. As well as supplementing other forms of exchange and territory-marking in the ancient townscape, they also stake a claim to unauthorized authorship, even to a precarious kind of immortality.
If the question of the PABT’s terribleness was a true crime novel, the guilty party is everyone involved. That’s right: they all did it. The original Port Authority designers did not anticipate long-term requirements. Robert Moses did his best to destroy it. The economic downturn of the 1970s made crime rampant. The 80s boom ignored social problems. And now, the impossible maintenance costs of a 1.5 million square foot structure with a bad reputation burdens everyone.
The Port Authority Bus Terminal proves that modern monsters are complicated creatures, only as ugly as their resonance is. This next chapter could finally be the one that turns it around, but then again it might be just a $90 million plaster on an infected wound. Either way the sordid past of the PABT is no easy shadow to escape. Especially when the Chinatown Bus is only $10.
The former panels, removed in 2017, featured images dedicated to Confederate Generals Stonewall Jackson and Robert E. Lee.
One researcher, Jürgen Schick, estimated that over half of the region’s historical artworks have been stolen.
The Morgan Library & Museum Presents Another Tradition: Drawings by Black Artists from the American South
This exhibition celebrates the Morgan’s recent acquisition of drawings by Thornton Dial, Nellie Mae Rowe, Henry Speller, Luster Willis, and Purvis Young.
The visual arts institution and educational center is located in the most ethnically diverse urban area in the world.
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Part of the John Michael Kohler Arts Center in Sheboygan, Wisconsin, the Art Preserve also functions as a curated collection facility and is filled with immersive installations.