Nick Cave: artist, dancer, teacher

Adult learning seems so different from “student” learning. The type of learning I excelled at -- memorization, test-taking, auditory recall -- is no longer as useful as it was. My nice adult communications job is great, and has involved learning lots of new systems very quickly, but it's not the stuff I'm so skilled at. I learn by listening. I learn by writing.

I miss lectures, guys.

So, I've gone out and found them.

The first was pure chance. I was restless, and chattering with Adam and Rachel. Adam is my splendid hero-friend-landlord, an accompanist at Cleveland Institute of Music. Rachel is a gorgeous viola player from Vancouver. They wanted to eat dinner; I wanted to shoot fireworks into power-lines. We compromised by walking to the Barking Spider, a beer bar with live music every night. I examined the bands listed on the side of the door, when out walks Emelio.

"Emelio?!"

If you did theater at Oberlin, or graduated from my year, you knew Emelio. Emelio is fabulous, kind, and hilariously funny— he attracts friends and followers easily. In my dofus way, I always balked at talking with him because, well, he’s just so cool.

"Aries?!"

He lives in Tremont, works in a community garden project, and was on his way to a lecture at CIA.

"It's for Nick Cave," he said.

"The musician?"

"Nah, the textiles artist. You should go! It'll be great!"

Nick Cave, the artist-not-musician, was absolutely fantastic. He pairs art with movement -- he studied modern dance with Alvin Ailey, and creates amazing wearable art pieces called Soundsuits. The first Soundsuits was made of twigs, completely overtaking the body of the wearer; others are constructed out of human hair, creating an enormous fur glories. He transforms people into muppets, blurring an individual’s gender, race, and class. He speaks softly and melodiously, and during his talk, I drifted between attentiveness and dreamy nap-land. He made all my fantasies seem so real.



The first Soundsuit!

Work it, dance it, write it.

In comparison to the first week of school, by the fourth week, I can tell a bit more where my energy is going. In short: everything takes five times the effort I originally expected. Sigh.



Admissions:

As an intern, my job is to interview prospective students, and assist the overall admissions process. I answer emails, work the front desk, speak with families, do filing. Right now, the counselors are working like mad, reading applications and meeting in committee. Each application gets read twice, then discussed in committee. Molly explained to me that the process is much more egalitarian here as compared to other colleges/universities. The first reader serves as the lawyer for the student, arguing their case to the rest of the admissions board. The decision is made by consensus, not solely by the dean.

Through this process, my respect for the admissions counselors has grown even larger than before. The sheer quantity of work they do is incredible.

Sco:

This week was a good one, dancing-wise. I grew up around music--my Dad ran a PA company, my grandmother has a Ph.D in music, my parents used to sing to me all the time. So when I need something to make me happy, music works best. Especially loud, silly music. On Wednesday, the Sco hosted Motown night, which got very, very crowded. I heard songs I haven't heard since election night, which was one of the happiest events of my life. The elation to "you can feel it all over" by Stevie Wonder was amazing, and the rest of the group was so alive. Whenever a mass of 100 people dance, there's so much energy generated that the mood becomes potent, electric.

Thursday's techno night was much more relaxed. My friend Daniel was DJ-ing--he played excellent trance. I met Daniel before school started: he's a first-year international student and I was catering some of the orientation events he attended. I remember working at a karaoke picnic, and arguing with him about which one of us should sing first. Anyone I can argue with is someone I want to befriend.

Yesterday, the Sco hosted a fundraiser for IYS (Immerse Yourself in Service) which hosted Triceratops, B-52s Cover Band, Bowie Band, and OSTEEL. Picture this entry, now add more hopeless noodling over how cool the Bowie band is. Their guitar players are ill, sick, ridiculous, and impressive. They turned "5 Years" into a rock epic. After the Bowie set, the crowd chanted "One more song!" or "Ten more songs! At my house!"

When we finished dancing, Ma'ayan invited myself, Yoshi, and Amanda back to Harkness for some pie. During the day, Ma'ayan and Daniel had made Derby, Bavarian Creme, and Chocolate-Coconut-Pecan pies.

Pie = Love.



Neurophysiology:

Some people speak Spanish, French, Chinese. My friends speak Science. If I didn't speak at least some pidgin Science, I couldn't understand them at all.

At Oberlin, I've taken Human Neurobiology, Behavioral Neuroscience, Abnormal Psychology and, at present, Neurophysiology. As much "vocabulary" as I've learned in class, I've gotten most of my grammar from my friends. I heard about Becca's woes with programming for experiments on childhood development, Alex and Jo Ling's fish, conversations on whether snails or crayfish would prove more effective for gathering data on neuronal membrane potentials.

I can tell I learned something in college because when I read this phrase at a normal pace: "'Cerebral activation patterns induced by inflection of regular and irregular verbs with positron emission tomography. A comparison between single subject and group analysis'" ... I understood it completely.

Three years ago? Not so much.

I wonder what my college career would have been if more of my friends spoke fluent Humanities. I might know about epistemology, determinism, or radical self-conscious ethnocentrism. As is, there's always more to learn.



Writing:

Creative Writing is a fascinating major--we don't have Honors, Capstones, or Theses. We just write, write, and write. This semester, I'm working with Chelsey Johnson and Sylvia Watanabe on a super-long project: The Novel.

Remember the Novella from last semester? That was the larva. This semester, I've gotta hatch a butterfly.

With Sylvia, I'm in a super-small workshop (five people) who are all top-notch kick-butt writers. Most of us were in Novella last semester, so we've got a feel for each other's styles already and have gotten comfortable being very constructive with one another. Workshops work when you can say to a writer: "This character? He's a jerk. He's not funny. He's not smart. Why is he here?" ... without being self-conscious.

With Chelsey, I'm going over the piece, full blast, each week. We did a close reading the other day and met for over 2 hours. It was great. Chelsey's focus is fabulism, a super-crazy writing style similar to magical realism, from writers like Gabriel Garcia Marquez, Aimee Bender, and Ursula LeGuin. She gets my weird, post-apocalyptic romance stories.

Happily, my friends get it too, as the other language they speak is art. Making it, mostly, not analyzing. The mechanics of the creative process are so fascinatingly messy. All the rehearsals that take too long, the film shoots that die in poor lighting, the muscles pulled before the rehearsal, the paint splattered on new clothes, or hours of research for a character who will take up about a minute of script.

Even if we don't love the same thing, we love it in the same way.

Finally finished with Finals.

The hard part of Finals is ... finishing them.

I completed my Ancient Sexuality paper just in time. In my haste to take a nap, I sent a "Yay, here you go!" email to Professor-Captain Kirk Ormand, but forgot to include the attachment with the actual paper. It had been a long night.

I've spent the past few days on the paper, focused on seductive lyric poetry in Greece and Rome. I argued that the poems weren't seductive at all. Generally, the poems demeaned the person they were hoping to woo. The pieces, in my view, were intended for something else entirely: asserting the masculinity of the narrator/author. The paper was called "Boyfriend Training."

I muddled through the Astronomy final, nailing the math problems, but totally forgetting how to find supernovas and any useful data about quasars. I'm still working on finished David's paper. The day after the Sexuality paper, I worked on the drama paper, but for some reason, I didn't save it at the end of the night. I lost about 4 hours of work. Pleasantly, I also found that when I opened the document, my paper was awful. Really, quite awful. So I spent the past 5 hours trying to make the paper more coherent.

And then, I worked on novella. And worked. And worked.

And now, I'm done! I've been to the library, bought my parents Christmas presents, worked out at the gym for a really long time, gotten dinner with my grandmother, and slept.

Overall, I fought really well in the War Against Procrastination, battling the axis of academic apathy:
1. Friends
2. Webcomics
3. Events

Friends
These are the Clytemnestra of my life, the sweet dangers who may lead to academic disabling. Pretty, kind, intelligent, bearing tasty things and good ideas. We all cluster in the academic commons of the library, cozy ourselves and chat. I must be wary of them.


Webcomics
A laundry list of foes:
XKCD, Questionable Content, Saturday Morning Breakfast Cereal, Married to the Sea....


Events
Around the end of the year, most folks have their recitals, final projects, and all sorts of ridiculous study breaks. Some days, the "Study Breaks" start at 10:00AM and end at midnight. If you attended all, you'd be in trouble. I focused on a few: a three-band show, the Dead Hear Footsteps (WOBC radio noir drama), the Storytelling EXCO's final show, and Artwalk.

Artwalk is one of my favorite events at Oberlin. The art students of all levels and mediums take over studios, the classrooms, and the hallways of the building. Any empty space is snatched up and covered with photos, sculpture, or paintings. Hallways, furniture, doorways... last year, there was a sculpted boat made of passports sitting between two of the art wings. It's free, open to the public, and packed.

Some of my favorites:
Seth's photos. Seth is one of my coworkers for Academic Ambassadors and his project was perfect. Obies are not very... formal people, in action or in decor. We wear comfy clothes. We're pretty chill. So when there's someone who behaves in a more formal manner, it's pretty interesting. Seth's pieces explored his own formalism, with two black and white photos selected from his set. In both, he was dressed like a young power-broker, tied to a chair or wearing a dunce cap.

Natalia's Quinceañera photos were brilliant.

I asked my friend Izzie if she had any pieces for Artwalk (she's an art major), and she ducked her head and said, "Yeah, but it's no big deal. Don't go for me." Izzie is modest. And highly ridiculous as her piece was beautiful--a dual-layered piece using transparency sheet with the physical form and an underlayer with the skeletal structure, shaded to show a sense of emptiness. Still, Izzie was better than Liz, who forgot to tell me that she had a mixed-narrative piece up--a giant mural with a woman waiting on a road, Wyeth-esque, with a story she told playing on an old walkman.

Many of the pieces were interactive games. A crowd favorite was the Cat Chess Board:






(Anna and Sandhya)

Speaking of Anna, she also had a piece up that gorgeously blended about 10 different cartooning styles, from Ramona Quimby to Eloise. I got lost in it for a while.



Besides this, there were a wall of faces, an installation piece on the divide between Palestine and Israel, colored vials, comics (one by Nick Wirtz, a design/artist/video genius). Antonio built a tank.

The work was so imaginative--being able to see it really helped me through the tedium of Finals.

Afterwards, I went to the Cat and danced to OSTEEL, Oberlin's awesome steel drum band.








Happy holidays!

** Photo Credits to Ma'ayan "Gorgeousface" Plautand the OSTEEL website!