“Not to die, not dying,” she sang, and I didn’t think any of us were, but maybe Lenker felt like she had been before that moment, and maybe I have at times, too, and maybe we always are, but maybe I also believe she conquered that reality in that moment, with her voice and her music alone, and she carried me away with her.
Images of Rafael’s graffiti and other works of art are surprisingly hard to come by online. More often than not, such photos can only be found in articles reporting on his public, unsanctioned projects — the ones that upset the police.
As soon as I had turned the last page of Deborah Levy’s “The Man Who Saw Everything,” I set the book down and opened up my laptop: I had a lot of research ahead of me. It wasn’t to fill any gaps in my knowledge of the book’s historical, behind-the-iron-curtain context, or to learn more about the Beatles’ photo shoot on Abbey Road, around which the book awkwardly pivots; it was in hopes of making any sense at all of the 200 pages I had just read.
In the spirit of Welcome Week, Festifall and all things post-Labor-Day, The Michigan Daily Film section has written a collection of blurbs celebrating our favorite “Openings” to movies. Here’s to another year of learning, changing, trying, failing, crying, smiling, passing, movie-watching and (most importantly) a-best-picture-awarded-to-a-film-that-surpasses-the-low-bar-of-not-being-problematic-at-best-and-severly-discouraging-as-to-the-current-state-of-the-conversation-on-racial-equality-in-America-at-worst.
No matter the extent of your own cynicism regarding the future of representation in Western media, “Blinded by the Light” still registers as a product of this regime, so it fails to reinvigorate a genre, merely propping up a new story with the old tricks.
I’ve come of age in the days of Spotify and other digital streaming services. I don’t tend to look at the past in a way that lends itself to longing, so I quickly adapted to an increasingly intangible experience with music.