In late April, I walked up the stairs to the Michigan Union, as I’d done many times before. It was a warm day — warmer still with the winter semester finally over and the summer near. I’d walked up those stairs in every possible state: wet, hot, cold, disheveled, elated, disappointed, happy, tired, content, angry, heartbroken. Most of the time, though, I was just hungry. And on this late April day, I was hungry for an Au Bon Pain sandwich.
It was a hot Memorial Day weekend for Detroit and its techno Movement festival, the city’s ever-growing annual event. The festival sprawled over Hart Plaza, and the sunny heat turned into a warm fog when evening closed in, the sun leaving behind a wet air as festival goers filled the grounds. They came in cut shorts, black shirts, shaggy hairstyles, happy jitters, hollow eyes and colorful bracelets. More than one man wore a graphic t-shirt that read “I wish Movement was a city and we all lived in it together.” Another read “Sex, Drugs and Techno.” The hip ones carried PBR beer cans.
The presenting theme of the arts in 2018 is by and large inclusion. We saw it in the recent 90th Academy Awards when a jittery Frances McDormand fierily advocated inclusion riders to a crowd of hesitant yet emphatic cheers. The Grammys, in typically uncanny fashion, had a few cutesy symbolic gestures of their own and brought out rapper Logic to preach mental health awareness.
Bad relationships are the running concern on the DIY indie rocker’s effective debut album ‘Clean.’ Over alternatively soft and subtly vicious chord progressions, she sings about unfollowed desires, self-doubt and disappointment.
Each song is its own room, fully furnished, and while every room is consistent aesthetically with the last, they all offer the listener a new discovery, a new chaise lounge to dance on and a new framed photo to gawk at.
'Yoshimi Battles The Pink Robots Part 1' immediately comes to mind, but I also think that this mission to save humanity would do well to channel Rico Nasty’s most recent track, 'Smack A Bitch,' which is exactly what needs to be done with this oddly sexualized death trap.
On a Saturday I sit in the Law library. I often do this, busy or not, wasting my time pretending I’m using my time wisely. If I’m sitting in the library, I’m working, right? Of course, when I say “work,” I’m saying that I’m simply sitting, and by sitting in the library, I’m sitting productively. The Law library does that. It makes me feel like these hours spent curating a Facebook feed I never even use are somehow hours well spent, hours moving me in a forward direction, hours put into learning.
Consider triangles, and consider geometry. These structures are here, literally and in spirit: The small interior benches are triangles; the shower is a triangle; the lampshades are triangles; the roof, too, is a triangle, though it’s an especially idiosyncratic example. Consisting of cedar shingles and wooden fascias, it folds downward just slightly and moves into an aggressive point in the backyard, where it hangs over a patio that expands into the grass.