Judgment Eve

Fingers crossed everyone. . .

Some Thoughts on a Gute Reise

After school was over I had the opportunity to travel around (mostly) Northern Europe for a little while to meet new people and see new stuff. On the itinerary: Riga, Copenhagen, Stockholm, and Munich. Here’s a quick recap of the trip.

Riga

Riga is ice cold. If you travel there in December at three in the morning after attending a huge, free-alcohol, school-sponsored party, and then you walk around the city with wet feet gazing at the Baltic-gothic churches and architecture, you’re sure to get sick as a dog.

And so it was with me, wasting away much of my time in the fetal position in my bed in the hostel. Luckily, I was only guest staying in the hostel for the three days I was there, so others were spared my hacking, shivering, and whining. Plus, it was a fairly good environment in which to involuntarily spend time. The kitchen, all shiny and clean and advertised on HostelWorld as “the best kitchen in Riga,” was not a disappointment. Nor was the staff, who offered me biscuits and insider tips on the best pharmacies to visit in Riga.

Since I was the only one in the hostel, I took turns watching movies and television series with the complete rotation of workers. One pleasantly sarcastic Latvian girl --when the movie was paused, she would always say “hurry up, you’re missing it”-- and I watched about 8 hours straight of Dr. House. I told her through my sniffles and coughs that a medical drama/comedy was a good program for me to watch because at the end of the night I would have assimilated enough med-talk to be able to diagnose myself.

The one major thing that I DID have time to see in Riga was the Occupation Museum, which I found to be both sobering and inspirational. I also thought a more appropriate name for this museum would have been the Latvian National “Please Leave Us the Fuck Alone!” Museum.

Its purpose was basically to highlight the many downsides of hosting an occupying force in your country. For instance, I learned that the occupying guests almost always overstay their welcome: brutally suppressing any nationalist spirit or sign of criticism, sending dissenters to Gulag-esque labor camps, and almost never taking their shoes off at the border before coming into the country. Some guests.

In particular, the museum chronicled Latvia’s occupation first by the USSR around 1920, then by the Germans during WWII, and then again by the USSR until relatively recent times.

The highlight was looking at all the cool knick knacks and objects of art that the political prisoners made while imprisoned. Not just shivs and that sort of fare, but beautiful chessboards, furniture, and clothing.

Copenhagen

In Copenhagen I used Couchsurfing.com to find a couch to sleep on. It was kind of short notice, but luckily a woman named Linda was nice enough to take me into her house for a couple nights.

It was my first time using Couchsurfing, and I found it to be the height of cultural exchange.

The first night she made me a very traditional Danish Christmas meal (smeared black bread), played me some Danish pop music (Supine?) and laughed at my Danish pronunciation. And the next night I made American “Macaroni and Cheese,” played some blues on her piano, and marveled at her accent-free English. She was also kind enough to take some time out of her day and give me a walking tour of Copenhagen. That’s the big benefit of a site like couchsurfing, the personal connection with someone who knows the city and is willing to teach you about it. That’s tough to find at a hostel.

Plus, you might even meet other couch surfers in addition to your host. For instance, the second night a doctor from Tanzania named Wilson stayed with Linda and took the two of us out to a birthday party one of his Danish friends was having. Another great Danish experience.
A party, some new friends, a walking tour, and traditional food. Who could ask for more?

Stockholm

After Copenhagen it was on to Stockholm, where a friend of mine named Catia was staying for a couple of nights. This was great for a couple of reasons: 1) Catia is a good-souled and interesting human being and 2) when we hang out we speak exclusively in German.

Since I only had about week left to completely master ever single facet of the German language, and was currently still struggling with the difference between 17 and 70, a bit of practice was welcome.

Since neither of us are actual German masters (Catia is a native French speaker and I an English one) the results are somewhat hilarious. I’m sure for native German speakers it’s like listening to six-year olds blabber on. And that’s exactly what it’s like for us too. But that’s also the fun of it, the challenge of communicating. And armed only with smiles, a limited vocabulary, and childlike declarative sentences, we persevered and faced that challenge.

As far as sights and activities in Stockholm, we decided to go to the Nobel Prize museum. The national art museum might have been fun too, but we’d both seen Van Gogh sunflowers or Gauguin Polynesians before; the Nobel Museum, on the other hand, was something unique to Stockholm.

I still haven’t quite made up my mind about it. The museum was not only incredibly small, but it was also home to surprisingly few historical objects. A handful really. Some slippers from physicist X, a beaker from chemist Y, that sort of thing.

Luckily, there was a pretty cool temporary exhibit that took up about half the floor space of the museum. It dealt with how Ingmar Bergman (non-Nobel Laureate, but Swede, and one of Woody Allen’s idols) staged the productions of 5 Nobel prize-winning playwrights: Eugene O’Neil, Albert Camus, Luigi Pirandello, Harry Martinson, and a Swedish feller' named Par Lagerkvist. The exhibit was composed of, among other things, a bunch of great photos of Bergman in action by photographers who I’m sure are of great importance to people who know about that sort of thing.

Another highlight was the “Listening” section, where guests are invited to listen to acceptance or other speeches from past laureates. This was very cool.

There was a great little American section are where one could listen to post WWII American Nobel Laureates Ernest Hemingway, William Faulkner, and Toni Morrison. I had never heard Hemingway or Faulkner speak before. I was a bit surprised to hear Hemingway speaking almost exactly as he writes: in short, clear sentences (e.g.-- “My next book is about X. I hope it is good.”). I also very much enjoyed being exposed to Faulkner’s Southern twang and surprising modesty.

In contrast, I had heard Toni Morrison speak before. As always, I found her to be a very talented speaker with the odd gift that, as soon as she begins to speak ,the audience finds itself with the strange urge to begin weeping immediately for the pain and beauty of the human condition. It’s almost like a superpower. Admittedly, it’s not as cool a superpower as what Professor Xavier has, but probably cooler than whatever Jubilee does.

Munich

In Munich I stayed with another Couch Surfer named Florian who saved me from a hostel at the last moment. Florian gave me a little walking tour around the gates, churches, and squares of Munich and then I spent the rest of the day at the Pinakothek der Moderne (tons of Max Beckman and a great design and jewelry section). Later that night the two of us had a great dinner with 4 other couchsurfers (above) at a guy named Christian’s place.

That’s another one of the beauties of couchsurfing, the spontaneous hospitality. I wasn’t staying with Christian, but had met him at a couchsurfing meeting the previous night in Munich. After about two minutes of chatting he immediately invited me over for dinner the next night.

After dinner we drank Becks and red wine until well into the morning and eventually agreed on how to solve at least 30% of the world’s problems.

It was another great couchsurfing experience.

Amsterdam

Right now I am in Amsterdam for two days before heading home to the United States. My hostel is a bit dirty and the staff isn’t particularly friendly, but there’s wireless in my room and some interesting old hippies are here so I guess it’s a wash.

I’ll let you know how it goes. Then it’s back to Iowa. Hope to see you soon!

U.S.A! U.S.A! -- A Great Party and a Great Speech

What an amazing night. The first results here in Germany came in at about midnight, but the festivities kicked off much earlier at the law school.

In collaboration with the U.S. Consulate in Hamburg, Bucerius Law School hosted a massive election party that Vanity Fair listed as one of the best places in Germany to watch the election.

Starting at about 7:00 p.m. there were videos, lectures on American politics, bands, and several television stations broadcasting various panel discussions live. Attendees were offered a selection of fine American cuisine: hot dogs, hamburgers, freedom fries, and Jack Daniels. American flags were EVERYWHERE.

It was kind of a big deal.

The crowd of around 2000 even had to pass through metal detectors to get in. (You know, because whenever you get to many Americans together, guns can’t be too far behind. . .).

The Germans loved Obama. I had heard recently that about 80% of Germans supported Obama. After last night I feel that number may be closer to 98%. Signs, t-shirts, buttons-- everyone was completely outfitted with the latest Obama fashion. It was almost creepily uniform for what was ostensibly a bipartisan event.

Earlier that evening, one of the news reporters bouncing around the halls of the school had asked me (in considerately slow German) if I had spoken to anyone who was voting for McCain.

“Nein,” I replied. She moved down the line with the same question and the others replied that they hadn’t either.

“No McCain supporters?” I thought. That was a bit much. I actually began to feel a bit sorry for him.

So I ended up wearing both an Obama button and a McCain button (Obama button slightly higher) in an attempt to be diplomatic and inclusive.

When people asked me what the hell I was doing, which happened incredibly frequently, I responded that I was an Obama supporter, but that I was practicing a “new kind” of politics.

Ha!

This was half joke and half real. Half joke because I’d love a filibuster proof Senate as much as anyone, and half real because I really was trying to give a polite nod to bipartisanship and cooperation.

We were getting dangerously close to becoming hundreds of group-thinkers, congratulating ourselves endlessly on our superior judgment and gloating about the utter domination that was about to take place. That tends to be a little alienating.

That’s why I loved the tone of Obama’s victory speech.

Howard Dean “Yee Haw!” it was not.

I thought about the worst thing that Obama could have done was to frame this election as the climactic end of a long struggle. Thankfully, he did the exact opposite.

Though his supporters were ecstatic and crying and drinking, he was sober (both meanings I think) and restrained and purposeful. While we were off giving high fives to this awesomely magical future paradise, he was reminding us that this kick-ass future we are imagining has yet to be created. George Bush might talk a lot about resolve, but last night Obama seemed to be the personification of it.

Plus he gave his daughters a puppy, which I thought that was a pretty cool and touching moment.

So here’s to a great speech that reminded us of the work that lies ahead. And here’s to a great night of American Democracy in action. And Here’s to gift-puppies, and to Obama, and most importantly, here’s to us—the engaged and committed electorate that will INSIST upon a better future. What the hell, why don't we just go ahead and start with health care?

As a wise man once said really, really recently:

"This victory alone is not the change we seek -- it is only the chance for us to make that change. And that cannot happen if we go back to the way things were. It cannot happen without you."

--Barack Obama, 44th President of the United States of America

Reeperbahn Festival Day 1

I remember once reading an Onion headline that went something like this:

"Entire Town Secretly in Love with Lady who Works at the Coffee Shop."

That's one of the reasons why The Asteroids Galaxy Tour was my favorite act from last night. She's going to be a star.

Enjoy!

Why Diego Rivera is the Grant Wood of Mexico, or Vice Versa

As soon as I find someone who claims to have even passing knowledge of both Grant Wood and Diego Rivera, I’m going to make this bold statement: “You know, if you think about it, Grant Wood was really the Diego Rivera of the United States,” and see what comes out of it.

I will concede at the outset that this post will be written with the aid of hazily remembered facts and an imperfect understanding of the stylistic nuances of the visual arts (read: please don’t fact check this post). That being said, in quickly cobbling together the little that I know about the styles, eras, and politics of the two iconic painters, I think you’ll agree that the similarities are uncanny.

Where to start? Both were born in smallish, land-locked towns in the Western Hemisphere; Wood in Anamosa, IA and Rivera in Guanajuato, Guanajuato. Both began painting at a very early age and continued to study the arts through high school and college. Both went to Europe during the Impressionism craze and painted various impressionisty/cubistical looking pieces that hardly even resemble their more famous works. And for both Wood and Rivera, it was after being exposed to these colonial influences that both painters ended up finding their unique voices that, in many ways, were a reaction to and a rejection of these continental influences.

Rivera returned to Mexico and began to paint what he knew: the peasants, the indigenous peoples, farmers, laborers using bold, bright colors and simple figures. Wood returned, stepped out of his home near Iowa City, and began to paint scenes of farms and country folk performing everyday tasks using a similarly bright and bold color scheme on his canvasses, although usually with a tad more attention to detail.

And there’s more. They were also both ardent lefties. Rivera was an admirer of Emiliano Zapata, from whom the leftist Zapatista rebels (a group still active in the state of Chiapas) take their name, and a member of Mexico’s Communist party. Wood became close friend to Vice President and Iowan Henry A. Wallace, who ran unsuccessfully for President with the Progressive Party after being dropped by Roosevelt for being, get this, too liberal (and over-crazy). Wood even did Wallace’s portrait for a Time Magazine cover that appeared during his glory days. Both artists had successful academic careers teaching painting, Rivera at some University that I can’t remember, and Grant Wood at the University of Iowa.

Appropriate to their politics, both painters also played major roles in New Deal type policies. Rivera was chosen to lead various government funded mural projects when the government was looking to put people to work. Wood became the leader of several major public works art projects in the Midwest during the New Deal.

These appointments makes sense, as both men were proponents of murals as a more democratic form of art. Murals beautified cities and made art part of the landscape of one’s everyday world. They were also major projects and called for the work of many men to complete. Rivera has his murals at, among other places, the Palacio Nacional in Mexico City; Wood has his at, among other places, the Iowa State University Library.

Possibly the most striking similarities between the two mural-painting, revolutionary-loving, farmer-depicting lefties, was their philosophy about painting and art. Rivera revolted against all things colonial: customs, religion, class, cruelty, etc. Wood too revolted, but it was against a different kind of colonialism. He revolted against a blind acceptance of the artistic forms, subjects, and styles that had filtered from the cultural centers in Europe, through the East Coast of the States, eventually to be adopted by the heartland as not just fine art, but the finest art.

In his manifesto Revolution and the City, Wood called this kind of trickle down capacity for artistic creation or appreciation “Cultural Colonialism.” That’s right, the man wrote manifestos. And some critics refer to him and his work as quaint. Quaint people don’t spend sweaty nights pumping out manifestos. Wood took on the art establishment and he won. His victories might have been short lived, but they were on his terms. And at the time, this was revolutionary. To think, a painter in Iowa could step outside of his home, paint the land and his neighbors, and call it Art. The gall.

Of course, of the two, Rivera is viewed as the more revolutionary, probably because 1) he was a communist who participated in Communist revolutions; and 2) he was more overt in his critiques of religion, which always tends to get a rise out of the faithful. Case in point: one of the murals at the Palacio Nacional features a Priest with a bottle of liquor in one hand and a prostitute’s arse in the other. Then again, I still think there is a strong argument that American Gothic actually is a subtle critic on religion and conformity.

But let’s not stray to much from the thesis. When you get down to the heart of the matter, the two aren’t that different. They were both anti-colonialist skeptics who celebrated the simple beauty of the worlds that surrounded them. Revolutionaries both, through and through.

Viva Rivera! Viva Wood! Viva La Revolution!

Diego Rivera: 1886-1957
Grant Wood: 1892-1942

Iowa Connection to the Oscars

My girlfriend just informed that, Diablo Cody, the lovely woman who just won the Academy Award for screenwriting, is from Iowa. As Wikipedia points out, she received her media studies degree here in Iowa City and was a dj at KRUI 89.7 FM.

Cornucopia, The Horn of Plenty congratulates her on her success and wishes her well with her future endeavors.

Go Hawks.

Making Link-Love with the UIMA

So, I just began using google analytics today, which is basically an online data collection tool that enables you to see which sites are linking to your site and what-not. Since my readership consists of about 10 people, all of whom are known to me, I never really figured it was worth my time.

But yesterday I decided to run it just to see how it worked and what kind of information it collected. I was very pleased to learn that, just in the last few days, one of the sites that linked to Cornucopia, The Horn of Plenty, was the University of Iowa Museum of Art Blog Art Matters. Apparently someone had stumbled across my post of the Robert Wilson Voom show at the Museum of Art and decided to link to it, along with two other blogs, in a quick post called "Web Chatter on Voom."

What's more, a fair number of people actually picked up on the link and came over to visit. Isn't that nice? Thanks for coming. Who knew that google analytics could tell you so much?

So, I figured I'd return the favor and send a little link-love to Art Matters so that those of you who are interested in a more comprehensive coverage of the Voom show or any other shows coming to the U of I can take a peak. It looks relatively new blog (their archives go to this past January), but they're already doing a good job of posting photos from events and keeping it updated frequently.

And if you still haven't gotten over to the show (this means you Em), you've got until March 30th, so set a date now.