Feminist Art History Professors You Should Take Class with Before Graduating
Karen Redrobe, Elliot and Roslyn Jaffe Professor of Cinema and Modern Media and Chair of the Department of the History of Art
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Karen Redrobe, Elliot and Roslyn Jaffe Professor of Cinema and Modern Media and Chair of the Department of the History of Art
Comic fanboys might still defend them, but over the past few years, superhero movies have become so formulaic that it’s become hard to distinguish one from another. When you have the kind of money that DC or Marvel handle, the recipe is not hard to follow: assemble a catchy cast, take a storyline that hasn’t been pictured yet, sprinkle it with more fight scenes than necessary, add some flashy CGI, and voilà! You have just created the next blockbuster.
Nestled between the red brick Victorian buildings on the border of Center City is Twenty–Two Gallery, a name reflective of its residence on 22nd Street. The billowing blue canvas denoting its name hangs over a small round table with two chairs outside, perhaps used as a place for the art connoisseurs to discuss the pieces inside.
It feels natural when a musician dies at an old age. It’s almost a thing to applaud—living presumably careless lives, musicians seem as if they ought to age faster than the average layperson. Living out to old age, therefore, is a thing to celebrate. Their deaths make us appreciate the content scope of their artistic careers. When Frank Sinatra died at the ripe age of 82, no one seemed particulary shocked. At 82, Sinatra was not still making music. The world was ready to let go.
Course (re)selection is upon us, my friends, and Street Music is here to give you the lowdown on what music classes to take.
Selena Gomez and Marshmello recently released a visualizer for the song “Wolves.” The video clip shows the same visuals—Gomez sitting on top of a diving board, with the image of moving water and then her face superimposed on top of it—on loop for the entire audio track.
As this 80 degree October fades into a slightly cooler November that could maybe even be called Fall, it’s time to switch up your playlist to something that fits the weather.
By the time they graduate, most Penn students will have read the Iliad at some point during their academic career, or at least excerpts from it. If they had someone who taught it well, they would have discussed what Homer’s epics can teach us about ourselves, along with the ancient history and poetic brilliance that is par for the course.
It’s been a particularly sobering month for people invested in the entertainment industry. Allegations of sexual assault against Harvey Weinstein, Kevin Spacey, and many others have shocked movie lovers and prompted them to examine the power politics that exist in casting meetings, press tours, and movie sets around the world. We are no longer able to blindly consume movies and television without considering what exactly goes on beneath Tinseltown’s glittery exterior—and, more importantly, how we can work to change it.
“At night, while everyone else is sleeping, I’m awake.”
While Philly has already proven to be a haven for innovative stage art through events like Philly Fringe Fest, November’s First Person Art Festival adds a more personal touch to theater. For over 10 years, the festival has focused on telling ordinary people’s stories through memoir and documentary art. The festival also supports a number of social justice projects. These include Philly reACTS performances, which tackle controversial issues, and the company’s Applied Storytelling Workshops, which teach individuals how to use the power of storytelling to recover from trauma.
1. In this emotional painting, Kahlo depicts herself in Henry Ford Hospital lying on bed naked in blood, with blood vessels, organs, and a fetus extending from her body. This is a reflection of how Kahlo felt when she had a miscarriage. The pain and hopelessness are juxtaposed with the remote cityscape of Detroit, where she and her husband, artist Diego Rivera, have spent time.
In the past six months, several artists have released songs detailing their personal struggles with mental health, fame and the pressures of being an artist.
Think of music as kryptonite.
Often, artists’ expressions of their struggles can help listeners feel less alone in their personal battles, and it’s important for fans and artists alike to speak up about their experiences.
The night before an AP Physics test my senior year of high school, I walked up to my dad in my house kitchen and collapsed onto the ground in tears. This was my worst anxiety attack. Tension had been building in my mind throughout the semester. I couldn’t pinpoint exactly what caused it, and that was the scariest part.
If you polled a random sample of Americans about which reggae artists they could name, the most popular answer would undoubtedly be “Bob Marley.” After that, it’s anyone’s guess—Damian Marley? The Wailers? Ziggy Marley? The reality is that traditional reggae hasn’t had a true “face” since Bob Marley’s passing in 1981. Many dismiss it as a genre for hippies, potheads, and Rastafarians, ignoring the storied and unique subculture of the genre.
The term concept album is a little hard to define. On one end of the spectrum, you have albums like Bring Me the Horizon’s That’s the Spirit, which NME called “a loose concept album”—all or most of the songs revolve around a central idea. On the other end, you have Green Day’s American Idiot and every My Chemical Romance album, with complex and intricate plots and storylines. The label of concept album gets thrown around to describe albums where all the songs vaguely deal with the same broad idea. That's true of a lot of albums, but a concept album refers to an album with a cohesive idea and a clear narrative arc.
Throughout their decade–long career, The Front Bottoms have been referred to as some twisted, whiny hybrid of folk and punk. Retaining a little of the punk and nearly none of the folk on their fourth studio album, Going Grey—they've created something new in sound but still utterly familiar in content and feel.
When I found out This Is The Kit were performing in Philly this week I moved around my entire schedule so that I could make it to the show. I first heard This is The Kit my sophomore year and immediately knew I had happened on something special. The subdued melancholy on her 2015 album title track “Bashed Out” felt introspective, but not stale or trite. I was completely struck by the strange, lovely juxtaposition of the song’s weighty lyrics and the lilting gentleness of the vocals. For a long time after, my Spotify habits have been dominated by This Is the Kit’s discography, each song holding something of the specialness I felt when I initially heard her voice.
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