[Doyi's Blog] Between Life and Death...and Art.

 
 Obviously, I started this blog with images first. 
 I didn't write an opening statement. I couldn't. 

 
Just looking at them, even thinking about them, forced me to shove the words back into my mouth, and my thoughts, into my brain. So much ambivalence and emotion. Unable to write an introductory expression of any kind at the moment, I figured it would be far more efficient if you see for yourself what I have seen. Take a closer look.

 
What do you see? How do you feel? 

 
We all know they're photographs of people falling. Large ones, too--probably bigger than my own height. Some people fall vertically, heads pointing down, while others fall more on their back, heads facing the sky. One picture shows two figures, most likely friends, couples, or some sort of close acquaintances, holding hands as they dive past buildings. Everything's black and white. Images are framed in the same size and aligned in a long, straight path. 

   
Now, I don't know about you, but the first thing I thought was, 'Are they real?' 
Are they, the possibly desperate, dying subjects of each piece, real? And are they--the descending, the capturing, the entire scenario of each photo--real, and not some cruelly staged hoax? Then again, asking these questions would suggest my concern or value over the degree of authenticity and humanity in art. What does that mean? What if they were real-life people in a real-life situation? Or what if they were fake? Why would that matter? 

 
For some reason, the fact that something is/was living and alive automatically attaches us to it. We identify with it, connect with it, and ultimately feel for it. It's even truer when the subject is human. Because we, too, are of the same species breathing and dwelling in the same space they had had, their experiences--comic or tragic--affect us in one way or another. Even the strangest, most unfamiliar people could move us. Ingrained in our first nature, this theory seems like a no-brainer, yet it's a fascinatingly universal one that's often under acknowledged. 


Maybe that's why these images of potentially real people jumping off of life-threatening heights bother me a bit. That actual people, no different than I, were captured in such a moment I'd never want to see myself in, makes me feel more than uncomfortable. What's even crazier is that no one knows what happened next. Did they all die? Did anyone survive? The ending is an unanswerable mystery, but we all know that the immediate effect after the falling--the landing--had to be horrific. 


Now, this is all under the assumption they're real. If I told you these photographs were a painting, a charcoal sketch, or a Photoshopped masterpiece, would you think or feel the same? I bet not. At least, definitely not for me. I would maybe think, 'WTF, why would you paint that?' or even  'Hmm, I wonder what those figures represent,' but never 'Oh my gosh, I hope no one's hurt.'  

 

Well, it turned out that, yes, they are real. 
Both the people and the situation are real--were real. 

According to the statement printed on the wall, artist Sarah Charlesworth had built an archive of these photos, originally newspaper prints, for over a decade and then "[blowed] up the prints to a size larger than life." Her first show exhibited in February 1980, thirty years before 9/11. Like my emotionally ambivalent self, Charlesworth took her own art and its process personally. She was not interested in the politics, the objective stance of the artist, the social interpretations. "If you know me," the statement reads, "there is always a personal biographical reading you could do as well: why I chose that particular image, why am I concerned with these issues." 

 

However, you can never escape the politics. I understand her perspective, her intentions, and her desired reading, but you can never escape the politics of art. Of course, she doesn't deny the viewer's potential interpretation of the exhibition as a socially directed statement, or that the work itself isn't at all a socially directed statement. But collecting images of private people, placing it in a public space, and showing their transitional moments between life and death, by definition, is social and political. But that's a whole different story.



 Another slightly disturbing thought came to me, while I was pondering the fact that this was art. That these collection of dying and now-dead people, their images manipulated and aesthetically curated, was presented in the Chicago Art Institute as art. Most important, that someone has benefited from showing this art. Now, I'm not trying to discount the artist's good intentions or declaim against the whole exhibition for being evil. In fact, I really appreciate the artist and her photographs for giving me the chance to think deeper about the human experience. Still, profiting from others' death (strongly worded, not as extreme in this case) in any extent could be a troubling issue, even for art. 





Now I'm not quite sure how to end this blog. I think I talked about the surface of everything but delve deeper into nothing. Nonetheless, writing helped me organize my initially muddled, clumped up thoughts into communicable paragraphs (but got me stuck in concluding them). Meh, I'll think of a better line next time.

Until then,

Doyi

ISP Adventure

"Is the war over?" 
"No, it's only an armistice." 


The above quote is from a really amazing, great book I read a year ago for my World War One class called "The Beauty and The Sorrow."  The book takes letters, journals, and official accounts and goes through each year of the war, describing the people who fought in it and what happened to them.  This quote was near the end, which is why it had such an impact on me.  We agree on treaties and enter times of peace, but really war's never over.  It continues on in the people who fought in it.  I know that's kind of obvious, but the effect it has never stops.  I think of it like an exploding grenade; there's the initial explosion, but then pieces of metal keep flying, flying, flying, always hitting.

I'm starting out with this because I want to finally talk about my independent study project (ISP).  I had an idea for my project before I even got here, and it's something I've always wanted to do.  I want to interview veterans, and make a short film about it.  I've helped make short films before, but I've never done one on my own.  The project's now focused on combat veteran artists specifically, people who saw action and are now (or always were) artists.  I'm (hopefully) interviewing three veterans who fought in different wars, as well as an expert on art therapy.  The project will focus on the veteran's experiences, and their adjustment back to living in the United States, and if/how making art has helped that adjustment.  I'm trying to tie in Chicago by talking to people who live here, and some of the interviews take place in their favorite parts of the city, and I'm asking them if Chicago has changed to them.
I didn't mention this before, because it was one of those things were it's a huge hope/dream and you're afraid to talk about it, because it might not happen.  But it's actually happening!!  For real.  And I'm really excited.

A few weeks ago, my ISP class went to visit an artist at MANA, which is a space that used to be a warehouse, and is now used for artists, galleries, and offices.  The artist discussed his work, then wanted to know about our individual projects.  When I talked about mine, he said, "I have a connection for you."  Which is what I was hoping for, someone who'd be like, I know someone.  He told me about someone he knew who worked for an art museum, and he'd email this person and get us in contact.  I didn't really believe him when he said this.  But the next day, he did.

He connected me to Mike Helbing, who works at the National Veterans Art Museum.  I sent Mike a long email explaining my project, and the next day Mike replied.  All he said was, "Here's my number.  Call me tomorrow."  And I couldn't tell if that short reply was good or bad, but at least he'd left it up to me as to when to call.  I called him the next day, the Friday we met with the Jesus People, during lunch.  And he said he liked my project!  Which was great.  He wanted me to get more specific, and he asked if I had anything I could send to him that had more information.  I told him about our ISP proposals, which we had to do for class and which went into a lot of detail about what we wanted to do and how we were going to do it.  And he was like, "great, send me your proposal, and I'll send it out to some people and in about a week get back to you."  I almost died.  (There were several times I almost died throughout this process).  When we hung up I was so, so excited.

I sent my proposal to him, and Jason, my ISP instructor, suggested asking Mike if I could come by the museum and talk to him.  So I did, and the Saturday I could come Mike couldn't be there, but he forwarded my email to someone else, Patrick Putze, and although Patrick couldn't be there either, he said he'd see who'd be around.  He never replied, but I tried to go to the museum that Saturday anyways, and wandered around for two hours trying to find it.  I don't have a smart phone, and everyone I asked didn't know what it was.  After a while, I gave up and took the train back.  I didn't know if Patrick had told anyone I'd be there, but of course I was all anxious about it and I was like what if he did and I didn't show up, and they don't think I'm going to do this and now my project's going to fall apart.  I was really upset, actually.  Sunday, I thought about it, and I felt like the right thing to do was to email Patrick and Mike and say I hadn't made it, but I'd try again the next Saturday.  I didn't think they would reply, but Patrick did, and he said he was sorry about me getting lost (even though it wasn't his fault at all) but he liked my project a lot, and he asked me when I was coming so he could meet up with me.  That fixed everything :)
So I went!  And Patrick was there!  And he showed me around the museum!  Which was amazing.  We walked around and he talked about every piece, and it wasn't until halfway through that I realized how lucky I was to basically be given a private tour by someone who worked there.  Then we sat down and talked about my project for over an hour.  It turns out Patrick is the media coordinator for the museum, and he made a documentary for his thesis in grad school, and he makes short videos for the museum all the time.  He was like, "yeah, I can't let you borrow my camera, but I can let you borrow my sound equipment and show you how to use it," and he said he'd teach me how to shoot b-roll, which is basically shots of location and objects to help build the story, and we could do a mock interview and go through everything.  Basically, he'd teach me everything.  Which was so cool and so great that I couldn't even express how cool and great it was.  And then he told me about a long documentary he's making next year for the museum, and he said, "If this project works out and you're still around, maybe you could come help me with it."  I died.

Patrick told me about a veteran art reception that was going on the next day, and even though I had no time to be there I said I'd be there, because he mentioned how great of an opportunity it would be.  So that Sunday, I went to the reception, which was in this small building that was the local alderman's office, and I don't know what I expected.  I wasn't nervous going, but I was really nervous as soon as I got there.  There were a ton of people there, and the only one I knew was Patrick.  I am not the type of person at all to walk into a room full of strangers and go up to some of them and talk to them, especially when they're all adults and they're already talking to people and half of them are veterans, who I have a lot of respect for.  Basically, I spent more time looking at the art then actually talking to people.  Patrick saw me and he introduced me to his wife, and then he was pointing out veterans and saying, "He'd be a good guy to talk to," and I thought he meant in general for my project, but he meant right then.  Apparently, he expected me to go up to these guys and interrupt their conversations and introduce myself.  I died again.  I am so bad at that.  Oh god.  It was hard because everyone was talking to each other, I was like, if a veteran was chilling out in the corner by himself, then I could do it.  Basically I followed people around thinking, please be in my film.

After a while Patrick came up to me and asked if I'd talked to anyone, and I was like,  "No."  I told him how bad I was at it.  I'm sure from our meeting on Saturday at the museum, he could tell I'm a quiet, reserved person whose worst nightmare is networking.  And I had no idea I'd be networking at this reception, giving people my information and getting theirs in turn.  Patrick said it was okay, everyone's terrible about it, and he was like, "At least you're here."  And that's true.  I was terrified, but at least I was there and trying, even if it was kind of a fail because I can't talk to strangers to save my life.  Patrick told me it'd help if I thought about what I was going to say.  He was like, "you need a thirty-second schpeel, a pitch, something that says who you are, why you're here, what you want to do, and that you need them to help out."  And I was like, crap.
I want to be a screenwriter.  That's my dream.  One of the ways you can get your screenplay made into a film, and that's a process that's necessary at some point for every screenplay, is that you pitch it.  You go through a pitch session, where you sit in a room with a bunch of important people who have a lot of money and tell them why they should make your screenplay into a film.  Most terrifying thing ever?  Yes.  I keep telling myself I probably won't ever have to do it because my screenplays will probably never be turned into films.  But it's something I have to face at some point, and when Patrick asked me if I could do it, I said yes.

And I'm proud to say I came up with my pitch, and I totally pitched my pitch to a veteran artist whose name was also Patrick (he's Patrick K.), and when he asked how he could help with my project I asked if he was willing to be interviewed, if he had time, and he said all he had was time.  Then I awkwardly stuck around until I had a chance to get his email address.

So the reception was successful!  And I came away with something!  Yay.  I felt bad when Patrick was telling me who to talk to, and basically ended up having to introduce me to them because I was too shy to do it myself, so it was nice to be able to tell him later on that I made a contact.  I did something myself.  Yes.

So yeah… the reception was at an alderman's office, which was weird.  The alderman, who looked so much like M. Night Shyamalan Patrick wanted to tell him his new screenplay idea, came, and I have no idea which ward I was in and what his name was, but I was introduced to him.  I was part of a small group he talked to, and he explained why they have art in the office.  Apparently, they rotate work every few months.  He was saying how people come there really angry, and they're ready to just yell at him and his fellow workers about that pothole that hasn't been fixed, or whatever, and the art helps calm them down. Best explanation ever.  Then Patrick said, "There's no better way to disarm citizens than with veteran art," which he and another veteran thought was hilarious but the alderman was like what.  Then they all walked away, and the alderman turned to me and said, "Nice to meet you" like a good politician, and I was like no Patrick don't leave me.

Before the alderman left for the evening, his aide wanted to get a picture of him with all the veterans whose art was at the office.  His aide asked me to take the pictures, which made me super anxious, and I didn't want to but she put the camera in my hand, and I was like oh god I'm going to mess this up and this random alderman will be mad at me.  I asked her how many pictures she wanted me to take, I was like, "two or three?" And she said, "Ten or fifteen would be good."  And I was like, oh.  Crap.
But I survived Sunday.  I didn't destroy the camera, and I got Patrick K.'s email address, so I emailed him with my proposal and told him just because we talked, that didn't mean he was committed to the project, but he replied and said he was excited about it, and to let him know when we'll get started.  Which was really, really great.

Everyone I've talked to is excited about this project: Mike Helbing, Jason, other students, Patrick, Patrick K.  It means a lot to me when I tell someone, and they say they're excited.  It means a lot to me that so many people have helped.  Patrick is helping me so much with this, and he won't get paid, or anything.  I thanked him for his help and he said, "don't worry about it, I like helping."  Everyone has been interested and willing to participate.  It's amazing.

This is my new goal in life: someday, when I have a lot of contacts and resources, I want to help someone who comes to me asking for it, a student who wants to learn how to make film or someone who wants to know if their newest screenplay is a good idea.  I want to give someone what Patrick's given me, which is the help I've needed, for no reason except the fact that he's a really kind person.
It's just crazy to think how coincidental this all is.  If we hadn't gone to visit that artist at MANA, this never would've happened.  If he hadn't wanted to know about our projects, or if he hadn't had each one of us talk about it and just wanted to know some, this wouldn't have happened.  If I hadn't gotten lost that Saturday, it wouldn't be happening either.

The Saturday I was at the museum, Patrick asked me how I felt about it all, and for a couple seconds I couldn't say anything.  I was so overwhelmed, but in a good way.  I kept saying how excited I was, and I told him how a couple weeks ago, this was just an idea, and now it's happening.  It's absolutely crazy.  If it hadn't worked out this way, I still probably would've been able to find veterans to interview.  But talking with Patrick has made me realize how much I don't know about documentary filmmaking.  Deep down that was what I was afraid of going into this: that this project would end up crappy because I didn't know how to do it.  I just went into it being like, "oh well, it'll work out" and somehow it has worked out.  The right people have come into my life at the right time.

I met with Patrick this morning for tacos and we went over my first draft of my interview questions.  He's been in contact with a teacher at the Art Institute and with a veteran who was in Iraq, and is trying to get in touch with a veteran who was in Vietnam, who (I think?) is having an upcoming show at the Museum of Contemporary Art.  Hopefully, it'll all work out.  And hopefully I'll be interviewing Patrick K. soon.  Once I learn how to hold a mike and film things properly.

Anyways, I have the above quote, because the effects of war never end.  Some of the veterans I'll be talking to were deployed recently, and Patrick is trying hard to connect me to a Vietnam veteran, so we can get that aspect of time, how even though it's been decades, it never goes away.  The things that happen to you are so hard to forget.


The whole wall of one of the rooms at the National Veterans Art Museum contains a piece by Jim Leedy, a veteran who served in Korea.  The piece is called "The Earth Lies Screaming."  The whole thing is sort of a sculpture, made of foam, that's made to look like the bottom of a river.  The base is mud, and it's covered with objects.  On first glance, it seems like all the objects are skeletons, bones and spines and skulls, but the more you look, the more you see; there are children's shoes, birds, animals, helmets, grenades, imprints of faces, all painted the same white.  It's a very eerie piece, and it had an even bigger impact on me once Patrick explained the work to me.

While Jim Leedy was fighting, his group (I don't even want to try to attempt to say "his battalion" or "his regiment" because I still have no idea how that classification works, and I don't want to be wrong) was given the rare chance to relax, and they went swimming in a river.  It was a cloudy day and they swam for a couple hours, and it wasn't until they were drying off when the sun came out that you could see to the bottom of the river.  And along the bottom were hundreds of corpses.  Leedy had been swimming with rotting bodies; he'd had fun, essentially, in other men's graves.
This experience is something that impacted Leedy hugely.  And it wasn't until he made this piece that his dreams about the river stopped.

A picture, courtesy of NVAM's website, of Leedy's work, which explains more than I can:

The piece in the corner, across from the wall, is a sculpture of skulls, shaped to look like the cloud of an  atomic bomb explosion.

This work is just one example of the type of art that is in this museum.  It's… incredible.  There are no words to even describe it.  I can't put it into words, because the artists didn't.  You really feel something, looking at it.  It's eerie, it's creepy, but it's not creepy for the sake of being creepy, and it doesn't blatantly try to shock the viewer.  It's creepy because what you're feeling, is a small part of what the artist felt not only when they made the art, but what they felt when they experienced the event that the art is focused on.  You feel what it means.  And if you feel scared, or creeped out, or disgusted, or sad, or terrified when you look at the art, it's just a small fraction of what they went through.

The things we go through stay with us.  Art is a way to understand it, and to help us heal from it.  That's why I want to do this project; to learn myself, and to communicate to other people, how art has helped veterans understand or explain their experiences.  Whether they, like Leedy, have solved their nightmares by creating something out of them.



Here are links to Leedy's discussion of his piece, as well as to the museum in general:
http://www.nvam.org/artist-jim-leedy/
http://www.nvam.org

Please, please check it out.  The museum is incredible.

- Laura

[Doyi's Blog] Internship Update: Ask and You Shall Receive

Internship Update!

 

So, on my last blog I mentioned that I like my work. My boss and co-workers are easy going, I participate in cool events like the Reeling LGBT International Film Festival, and most of all, I've learned productive professional skills.

However, I also mentioned a lot of the work I do is extra work as well--not really related to my field of interest, art and marketing. Despite its educational value, cutting piles of paper, stamping envelopes, counting hundreds of ballots all day, and doing other basic office work aren't the most challenging tasks, let alone appealing. Even while doing marketing work, I didn't get to integrate my artistic graphic design talents--what I had highly looked forward to before the semester even began. 

 So I asked myself, 

"Do I want to continue folding newsletters for most of the day until it's December? 
What do I really wish to gain or accomplish? 
How can I change the agenda? 
Where do I start?" 

Finally, I figured it out: speak up! No one was going to ask Brenda, my supervisor, for me to do the real fun stuff but myself. What a simple answer to a seemingly difficult question. Accordingly, last week I promised that I will do exactly that--speaking up, self-promoting my digital-artistic skills, and achieving what I've only thought about. To my luck and success, I did.

It happened this past Monday. Like the usual, I started the day with my routine question: "How can I help you today?" Brenda typically doesn't have a strictly set agenda for me, especially in recent weeks after the biggest event of the year (film festival) was over. Plus, I didn't want to scare her by suddenly barging into her space and demanding for interesting jobs. After asking the opening question, she paused and looked over to Josh, the programming director.

"Well, I don't have any work that's marketing-specific. Josh? Do you have anything for her?"

 Josh replied similarly. Right then, I knew that was my queue to bring up the ultimate inquiry of my internship. Half anxious and half excited, I brought up the topic by asking if the spring issue of their schedule was already designed and printed. They said no. 

Immediately I spat out,

"Actually, I have been doing some graphic design as an art major with proficiency in Photoshop..."

 I told them I was willing and (more than) able to create promotional posters and maybe even design their quarterly schedules, if they were interested. Both seemed surprised--maybe even enthusiastic--about the news, asking me to send a copy of my portfolio. In fact, Josh even gave me a huge list of flyers to make by the end of the week! I wasn't expecting such a rapid response of not only what I had actually aimed for (digital marketing work) but also the underlying trust from Brenda and Josh. I was beyond grateful. 

Right away I began with researching for images and sketching out the outline for the membership flyer. I continued my work outside of my internship hours to finish the first project I've proposed by myself. It was a busy two days. As is all work, it was fairly stressful, but in a good way. I usually hate being burdened by loads of to-do lists, but I loved how busy and productive I was with not just any job, but my passion-job, my interest-job, my self-driven job. I have continuously been so overwhelmed yet so zoned in to the flow, that I always forget how much time had passed since I started on a flyer. A few days ago, Brenda referred me to another partner organization for similar tasks that require my graphic design skills. Looking back, I cannot thank my then-self enough; without you (me) and your (my) determination to advance our professional goals, I would not have been here doing the work I do now. Thank you (me)!

When attempting to achieve something we aspire, we ultimately encounter the stage of asking. And sometimes, asking is the hardest part of the process. Whether it's asking for help or asking for what you want directly, the person you're seeking probably holds the shortcut to what would be a long path from a decision to struggle alone. Moreover, I bet that person wants you to ask and speak up. All it takes is a deep breath, a self-promise, and a reminder as to why it's so important for you to ask. That's what I did, and I'm so glad I did it!


-Doyi Lee

Diamonds

It’s dark there, but full of diamonds.

This is a little cheesy, but Chicago is full of diamonds.  It's such a huge, daunting, overwhelming place, but there are really great things and great people contained within it, that you can't find anywhere else.

Last Saturday, my friend Sarah had her birthday celebration and the group went to the Chicago Fire Festival, or at least tried to.  The night kind of turned out to be an epic fail.   The big event of the festival was supposed to be three paper houses, lit on fire and slowly burning, making their way down the Chicago River towards the lake at 8pm, symbolizing the Great Chicago Fire of 1871 and how the city rebuilt itself.  We found an okay spot overlooking the river at 7:30 and waited… and waited.  Apparently, there were technical difficulties with the houses.  The whole thing was delayed forever and it was freezing cold.  A bunch of people were chanting “we want fire!”  and “where is the fire!”  and threatening to make their own fires.  The good thing was since a lot of people left, we moved spots and got a really good view, but a view of the houses as they stayed in place, barely lit.  Disappointing all around.

But they still set off fireworks!  The only upheld promise of the evening.  We were right on the river, right in front of the Trump Tower, surrounded by tall buildings.  I love cities and I think skylines are beautiful, so to me, to see fireworks like that was absolutely amazing.  It was so, so worth sticking around for.

The next morning, Sarah and I went to the Russian Tea Time that’s right on Adams, between the Chicago Program office and the Art Institute.  It was a lot more expensive and fancier than I expected, but that was ok because it was also a lot more expensive and fancier than Sarah expected.  The first thing on the first page of the menu was instructions on how to drink vodka the proper Russian way, and our waitress was really disappointed when we didn’t want to get vodka or dessert at 11 in the morning.  She was probably disappointed in us in general.

Yeah, the best meals I’ve had are the ones when I go out to eat and it really sucks that going out to eat is expensive.  But I feel like going and spending a lot of money on one meal is okay every once in a while, and when you’re with friends or family and it’s special it’s worth it.  

I really need to go grocery shopping.  Yesterday for lunch at my internship, I brought cereal, cheez-its, and crackers.  That’s all I have that doesn’t require refridgeration or effort to make.  Growing up, from elementary school to senior year of high school, my dad would make sack lunches for me every day to take to school, and I don’t think I’ve ever appreciated that as much as I do now.

Also, I have tasted the glory that is Potbelly’s.  And the people who work there are always so friendly and great.  I’ve been to two different locations, and they were all so excited about me and my sandwich.  Maybe they’re so happy because they work at Potbelly’s.

Anyways.  Our independent study projects haven't really started yet; we just turned in our proposals last week, so for the first half of the semester we've had ISP class, in two groups, twice a weeek, until the projects begin.  My group has all of the art seminar students and one from the entrepreneurship seminar, and for our group project we’ve been working on an experimental film that'll air at some point on ACRE TV, which is this online livestreaming platform that shows things once and then they're gone.  

Our idea was to have this security guard doing his regular closing rounds, and as he goes into the elevator of his building, each floor opens into a weird, creepy world (why?  no one knows).  I don't know if we'll have time to do all the elevator stuff, but we're filming the floors, and two people from the group have each taken one scene/floor to come up with and take care of.  Last Tuesday, for our first floor, we decorated a room at the CP office entirely with bad selfies.  The main idea was to have the security guard walk into a room whose wallpaper was made entirely of bad selfies, and there'd be people in the room who are taking bad selfies and slowly start to notice him.  The whole thing was weird, but the room ended up actually looking really, really cool!  We each printed 50 selfies, and legitimately covered the room.  It was great.

Thursday we were supposed to film at these silos near Pilsen, and filmed in this abandoned warehouse instead.  I have no idea what the warehouse used to store, but there was white chalk everywhere, and it covered our boots and shoes and clothes, and instead of complaining, because we’re art kids we embraced it and thought it was cool.  We were totally trespassing, but we didn’t really care.  We filmed a creepy, people-appearing-and-disappearing-stalking-the-main-character scene and it also turned out great.  I have no idea what this film will end up being, it might just be three random floors/scenes thrown together, but we're filming it and that's what matters.

When the film's finished, I'll post it on here and hopefully it'll be somewhat coherent.

A week and a half ago, my arts seminar went to a poetry foundation reading at the Harold Washington Library.  The sweet, passionate, old man who read, Ko Un, was a political prisoner for years.   I’ve never been to a reading where the author spoke another language (he's Korean), and the most interesting thing was having him read his poem, and then a translator read it in English.  He spoke with a huge passion, and would make noises and slow down then speed up.  You could feel the poems when he read them.  Then the English translator would read it in a really flat way, and her tone of voice reminded me of the people who do audiobooks or the CTA announcements.  You know, the voices that are so boring and so perfect.   So much of Un’s poems were lost in translation.  So much is lost in translation, in general.  

This man was so cute too!  He was incredibly humble.  I really admire it when successful writers who have a lot of experience and years and incredible writing behind them, act like they’re grateful to be in the same room as you, not the other way around.  He kept saying how beautiful the room was, and after the poems were read he’d turn to the translator and clap for her and grin and it was great.  I want to be that kind of successful author, where I’m just so grateful for everyone who’s actually shown up and for the venue and for a chance to read my stuff and share what I know, and be so humble about it.  That’s when the material really matters.  As a writer, it should be about the material, not you, you should always care the most about what you’re writing.  Especially because that’s really what’s left behind.

For core course, a week and a half ago we spent the day in Uptown, and in the afternoon met with a group called Jesus People USA.  Yeah… that was their real name.  A woman who did the Chicago program in the nineties (she went to Knox!  And she's from Colorado too!  Knoxies are everywhere) spoke to us about it, and then showed us her housing.  She lives in a dorm-style building that used to be a fancy, great hotel in the 1920's.  Each person gets their own room, but they all share a kitchen and bathrooms.  Her two year old daughter lives in her own room down the hall.  It was really interesting to see the housing, and see the different ways people were living.  You could do anything you wanted to your room, so people had entirely renovated them and made them their own. 
We also found this sign taped to a fridge in one of the kitchens: 

I want a freezer just for ice cream.  New life goal.

This past Friday, as part of core course the whole group saw Native Son, a play based on the novel by Richard Wright, at the Court Theater.  I read the book in high school so I don't remember much, and they cut out about two thirds of the book, skipping over Bigger's trial and leaving out Max's character entirely, but the play was still amazing.  They had an actor for the Black Rat, embodying Bigger's dark side and the voices inside his head.  The lighting and sound was done so well, and the actors were really talented.  They were so passionate with their roles.  Even though the theater was an hour and a half away from La Casa, and the play was shorter than the time it took to get back and forth, it was definitely worth it.

As for my internship, I'm interning with 826CHI, a non-profit organization that helps K-12 students with their creative writing skills through in-school and after-school tutoring programs, workshops, and field trips.  We finally moved in to our new building!  Yay.  So for the past five weeks or so I've been with them, we haven't been able to do the official programs, and everyone was so excited to move in.  I spent yesterday helping move and unpack boxes and put together tables.  Because my lunch was so sad, going and getting something to eat sounded really good.  Another intern and I were on our way to Potbelly’s, and one of the board members, John, ran out after us and asked us if we were headed to lunch.  We said yes and pointed to Potbelly’s, thinking he wanted us to get him a sandwich, but he handed us each $20 and said, “go buy yourself lunch.”  The other intern was immediately like “oh no, you don’t have to do that,” and he said, “I don’t have to.  But I want to.”  And he headed back inside.  It was so sweet.  That was one of the nicest things anyone's ever done for me.   

On the way back from my internship, it was pouring rain, and I had an umbrella, which I've just gotten in the habit of always having in my backpack, and the guy sitting behind me on the bus asked me how I was prepared for the rain.  We ended up getting into a conversation because he asked me where I was coming from, and when I explained my internship we talked about writing and reading.  He loves reading, he showed me the book he had and he talked about how much he loves learning, and he reads informational and how-to books like crazy.  He’s really into martial arts, and he was telling me how he’s been trying to learn each practice and then make his own, and he started when he was 17, and he’s learned 6.  I thought that was a lot until he said there’s 24 different practices.

Since he reads so much he was saying how much he appreciates writers, and he’s always awed at how many different things people can come up with, and how writing is a way to communicate to people across the world and teach them things they would otherwise never know about.  It was great to hear that someone appreciates it.  He asked me about my writing and when I talked about my novels he asked if they were published, and I said, "Nope.  Not at all.  I'll try though."  And he said, "They will be."

He asked me what my name was, and I said Laura, and then he asked what my last name was.  Even though there are a billion girls out there with my name, I still don’t like giving my full name to strangers on the CTA/bus, and he noticed I was being hesitant about it and he said, “Sorry, I don’t want to be creepy, I just want to know your name so I’ll recognize it when it’s in print.”  This guy was so smooth, haha. 

When I pulled the thingy to get off the bus, he said, “Sorry, I meet a lot of people on the bus and I just like talking to them.  I hope you enjoyed our conversation.  You take care and have a good day.”  And as I was leaving he said, “I look forward to reading your book.” 

That meant a lot to me.  The guy really made my day.  Basically, a complete stranger told me they believed I'll get published without reading a single word of something I've written.  They had faith.

There are a lot of people who have told me, "count on having a second job" and "don't depend on being successful."  Which I know.  I realize the downsides to being a Creative Writing major.  If anything tells me that this is what I want to do, it's the fact that I refuse to listen to people who are down on it.  If I wanted to do something for the money, I would've done something else.  I'm doing it because there's nothing else I can imagine myself doing, because I've never wanted anything else, and the classes I've taken have made me a stronger writer.  If I can come home from working at a restaurant and write a better novel than I would've otherwise, that's what really matters to me.  I should be proud of spending four years studying something I can't imagine living without.  

I get so used to having people look down on my major and my chosen career path, that I forget that there are people who also support it and don't think it's a stupid decision.  This guy was a total stranger, and I think he believed in me more than I sometimes believe in myself.  I wish I'd told him how much it meant to me. 

It’s interesting.  Chicago is so known for its danger and its rudeness.  People are scared coming here.  I was.  I was hurt by the way people just went right ahead of me on the CTA or how cold the cashier was at the Dollar General, until I got over it.  I was intimidated by neighborhoods, and nervous the whole first couple weeks.

But in Chicago I’ve experienced some of the best expressions of kindness I’ve ever received.  All I want is to be able to give back and do the same kind of thing for someone else someday.  

Picture time. 

The fireworks from the Chicago Fire Festival:

The fancy Russian food from Russian Tea Time: 

I awkwardly don't know how to turn the picture right side up.

My fancy Russian tea: 

It was so good!  I don't need Russian vodka when I've got my Russian tea.

Our coolio selfie room: 

The wall paper turned out so cool.

The warehouse: 

I have no idea what used to be in there, but the chalk was everywhere.

Creepy stuff I found while moving boxes in the basement of 826CHI: 

Just sitting on a table.

I feel like if you turned off the lights, 

things would come out of this.

I don't know why a bathroom in the basement is necessary.

And it's a super creepy one.

This pigeon.  Wtf.  Who would create a giant pigeon?  Why would that ever be necessary?  And why does 826CHI have it?  Or more importantly, why has 826CHI kept it? 

Anyways.  The beginning quote for this post is from Death of A Salesman, a play by Arthur Miller, which to me is one of the greatest plays ever.  There are dark places everywhere that are intimidating and dangerous, but they're full of diamonds, of little pockets that contain acts of kindness, or amazing locations, or incredible people.  And it's those things that make the dark place worth living in. 

- Laura

[Doyi's Blog] The Internship (aka best part of the program)

You know what’s most special about the Chicago Program?
You get an internship
and college credits
in Chicago!

As part of the curriculum, each student prepares, interviews, and works for an internship at a company/organization of their choice, in positions of their career interest. Plus, students get academic credit for it! This is honestly what drew me into applying for ACM Chicago in the first place; I had neither internships nor significant volunteer experiences, and as graduation approaches, I needed one. Lucky for me, this abroad program gave me an awesome opportunity to expand not just my resume, but also my professional skills and insights as part of a larger learning experience. 

 
I work for Chicago Filmmakers, a non-profit organization providing artists the opportunity to learn about, distribute, and exhibit films outside the mainstream marketplace. They offer a variety of film classes, too: screenwriting, Final Cut Pro X, and producing, just to name a few. Recently, the Chicago Filmmakers celebrated its 32nd annual Reeling LGBT Film Festival--the second largest of its kind. The festival featured several LGBT movies, directors, and actors, and I was happy to be a part of the staff that created it. 

To be more specific, I am the Chicago Filmmakers’ marketing intern. Since I’ve been very interested in pursuing a career in the marketing/ advertising/ PR field, and since I liked the closely knit, laid-back atmosphere of the organization, I applied for this job. 

So far, it’s been good. 

The Reeling film festival kept me busy, as I’ve been writing and scheduling tweets, shortening URLs, organizing every online article, and sending promotional emails. My marketing director, Gary, has been really helpful and informative about new social media tools and strategies I’ve never heard of. For instance, I learned how to use three tweet-scheduling sites, Hoot Suite, Tweet Deck, and Ad Twitter.
I’ve also done a lot of extra work along the way. Some include maintaining the box office, creating VIP passes, and checking passes for the festival screening. I knew I wasn’t always going to do something marketing-related, but I still value the experiences I’m gaining here. 

 

However, I’m planning to get more marketing-work done. I realized that I have to be more active about my professional objectives in order to achieve them. To make the most out of my internship, I drafted a list of learning goals that includes gaining in-depth knowledge/experiences related to marketing, learning Adobe Illustrator and InDesign, and utilizing my artistic abilities in the marketing field. And to attain these goals, I’m going to talk about it with my supervisor tomorrow. What I’m hoping to gain from the conversation is a chance for me to design and print Chicago Filmmakers’ film/class schedule for next spring. I’ll let you know the results in the next blog. 

Until then, wish me luck!

-Doyi