text:
Anatomy, Biomedical Science, Essential medicines/treatment, Internal Medicine, Laboratory Medicine, Microbiology
laurasplan.com
Laura Splan in Press
Laura Splan in Publications
Laura Splan in Teaching
"Blood Scarf". Blood Scarf depicts a scarf knit out of clear vinyl tubing. An intravenous device emerging out of the user's hand fills the scarf with blood. The implied narrative is a paradoxical one in which the device keeps the user warm with their blood while at the same time draining their blood drop by drop. Chromogenic prints mounted on aluminum, 24H x 20W inches each (2002). ©Laura Splan
"Exam Gown" (chromogenic prints mounted on aluminum | 60H x 30W inches each). Exam Gown is a revision of a hospital gown design that is hand-knit out of machine washable yarn. The personal and labor intensive quality of the knitting process evokes ideas of a more personal and less disposable institutional object. textile sculpture & photographs (2002). ©Laura Splan
"Stethoscope". Stethoscope is a twenty-five foot long functional stethoscope. Viewers are invited to listen to each other's hearts from either end of the table. Before the invention of the stethoscope, physicians would lay their heads directly on a patient's chest to listen to the heart. In 1816, Rene Theophile Hyacinthe Laennec was inspired to invent the stethoscope by his desire by some accounts to preserve a well-endowed woman's modesty, by other accounts to preserve his own modesty. This sculpture explores the stethoscope as a visual metaphor for a social paradigm. Stethoscope, rubber tubing, stainless steel table. 36H x 96W x 24D inches (2002). ©Laura Splan
"Vigilant". Vigilant displays colorful and simplified latch-hook renderings of a microorganisms. Latch-hooking is a simple but time-consuming craft that has traditionally been used to depict idealized and romanticized images from domesticity and nature. The juxtaposition of the images and the process creates a tension between the sweetness of the craft and the anxiety evoked by organisms of bio-terrorism and household biohazards. Hand latch-hooked yarn on stretched latch-hook canvas. 120H x 204W inches (installation dimensions variable) (2002). ©Laura Splan
"Meta Static I". "Meta Static" interrogates cultural constructions of beauty, health, vitality and salvation in the media landscape through sculptures and works on paper. Visual tropes of advertising and marketing are meticulously dismantled and reassembled. The uncanny constructions are at once seductive and repulsive, familiar and alien. The collages in the series include source material culled from fashion, beauty, and lifestyle magazines and are composed of as many as 100 individually cut pieces. Magazine collage on archival paper. 30H x 22W inches each (2013). ©Laura Splan
"X-ray Visions & Morphine Dreams". Each photograph is a digital collage created with found images of X-rays. Bones and intestines form the structure of various domestic objects. The title of the piece was inspired by the story of Bertha Roentgen (wife of William Conrad Roentgen, the discoverer of X-rays). Bertha was thought to be a hypochondriac and in the last years of her life her husband gave her multiple daily injections of morphine to deal with her reportedly psychosomatic illnesses. Lightboxes with Duratrans Light Jet print mounted on acrylic 24H x 24W inches each (2005). ©Laura Splan
"Fan (Anatomy of the Gaze)" Fan (Anatomy of the Gaze) is designed after a traditional bridal fan. The embroidery motif is based on the anatomy of the human retina. Rods, cones, and cells populate the radial structure of the hand fan. Computerized machine embroidery on cosmetic facial peel, bamboo, mixed media. 9H x 15W x 1D inches (2009). ©Laura Splan
Laura Splan is a Brooklyn, NY based visual artist. Her conceptually driven work employs a variety of media including sculpture, video, photography, digital media and works on paper. Her objects and images interrogate the visual and textual manifestations of our cultural ambivalence towards the human body. She often uses found objects and appropriated sources to explore socially constructed perceptions of beauty and horror, order and disorder. Much of her work is inspired by experimentation with materials and processes including blood, cosmetic facial peel and computerized embroidery. Her work has been exhibited in a broad range of curatorial contexts including craft, feminism, technology, design, medicine and ritual. Splan's work as been exhibited widely at such venues as the Museum of Art & Design (New York, NY), the International Museum of Surgical Science (Chicago, IL), the New York Hall of Science (New York, NY), and the Museum of Contemporary Craft (Portland, OR). In 2011, she had a solo exhibition at the Nicolaysen Art Museum (Casper, WY). Commissioned projects for her work have included a series of graphite and soap residue paintings for the Center for Disease Control and a series of computerized machine lace doilies for the Gen Art New Media Art Exhibition. In 2007, she received a Jerome Foundation Travel Grant to research the history of medical instrumentation and anatomical representation at venues including the Wellcome Museum (London, UK) and La Specola (Florence, IT). She received an Artist's Grant for her 2012 residency at the Vermont Studio Center. She has been a visiting lecturer on topics of Digital Art, as well as intersections of Art & Biology at Stanford University (Palo Alto, CA), Mills College (Oakland, CA) and Observatory (Brooklyn, NY).


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text:
id
pwd
df -h
printenv | sort

# WORKAROUND for missing build parameter
export MACHINE=qemux86-64
git config --global user.name "easy-jenkins"
git config --global user.email "$(whoami)@$(hostname).example.com"
git config --global color.ui false

# Adapted from https://build.automotivelinux.org/job/SNAPSHOT-AGL-master/

set | grep MACHINE
repo init -u https://gerrit.automotivelinux.org/gerrit/AGL/AGL-repo
repo sync

repo manifest -r >${MACHINE}_default.xml

mv agl-snap-${MACHINE} agl-snap-${MACHINE}2 || true
(ionice rm -rf agl-snap-${MACHINE}2 &) || true

if test x"meta-renesas" == x"$MYPROJECT" ; then
  export MACHINE=porter
fi

if test x"" == x"$MACHINE" ; then
  export MACHINE=qemux86
fi

mkdir -p ../downloads
mkdir -p ../sstate-cache

eval export DL_DIR=$(pwd)/../downloads/
eval export SSTATE_DIR=$(pwd)/../sstate-cache/

# source the env
source meta-agl/scripts/envsetup.sh ${MACHINE} agl-snap-${MACHINE}

# link the shared downloads and sstate-cache
ln -sf ../../downloads
ln -sf ../../sstate-cache

# echo '' >> conf/local.conf
echo 'INHERIT += "archiver"' >>conf/local.conf
echo 'ARCHIVER_MODE[src] = "original"' >>conf/local.conf
echo 'IMAGE_INSTALL_append = " CES2016-demo mc"' >>conf/local.conf
test xqemux86 == x${MACHINE} -o xqemux86-64 == x${MACHINE} && echo 'IMAGE_FSTYPES += "vmdk"' >>conf/local.conf

# Prevent error "Do not use Bitbake as root"
[ $(whoami) = "root" ] && touch conf/sanity.conf

# finally, build the agl-demo-platform
bitbake agl-demo-platform || exit 1

test xporter == x${MACHINE} && echo TODO

export mydate=$(date +%F)-b${BUILD_ID}
mv SNAPSHOT SNAPSHOT2 || true
rm -rf SNAPSHOT2
mkdir -p SNAPSHOT/${mydate}/${MACHINE}
export DEST=$(pwd)/SNAPSHOT/${mydate}/${MACHINE}
export RSYNCSRC=$(pwd)/SNAPSHOT/
echo "TODO:" rsync -avr --progress --delete tmp/deploy ${DEST}

# TODO

cp ../${MACHINE}_default.xml ${DEST}/${MACHINE}_default.xml
cp conf/local.conf ${DEST}/local.conf
echo https://build.automotivelinux.org/job/SNAPSHOT-AGL-master/MACHINE=qemux86-64/126/
tree ${DEST}/${MACHINE}

# TODO

echo "TODO:" rsync -avr ${RSYNCSRC}/ 172.30.4.151::repos/snapshots/master/

pushd ${RSYNCSRC}
rm -rf latest
ln -sf ${mydate} latest
echo ${mydate} >latest.txt
popd

echo "TODO:" rsync -alvr ${RSYNCSRC}/ 172.30.4.151::repos/snapshots/master/

# EOF

redpajama_set_name: RedPajamaGithub


text:
Посилання
 The World Factbook

Економіка праці
Економічн

redpajama_set_name: RedPajamaWikipedia


text:
Here's the (rather long) opening essay from the evolving syllabus for the State of the Art course I am developing at the DePauw University School of Music. The entire document, with a reading list, is here.
Even as we see the Fort Worth Symphony on strike, and difficult labor negotiations underway in Pittsburgh and Philadelphia, there are also many smaller groups and individual classically-trained performers doing well, happily engaged in a wide range of creative projects. It seems like a good time to share this essay (which seems to want to become a book) with friends and colleagues, especially since this weekend DePauw is hosting the absolutely amazing 21CMposium.
In this course, we look at the past and the present of life as classically-trained musicians in order to enrich your process of imagining possibilities for your future career. It is part of the ongoing question underlying the entire 21cm curriculum: What can it mean to be a musician in the 21st century?
Is there a classical music crisis?
Many people, including the most widely-read blogger on the future of classical music, Greg Sandow, say yes. Greg's point of view, his narrative, if you will, is that classical music, once vitally connected to mainstream American culture, has become disconnected from contemporary life and needs to change, and change quickly. Orchestras in Detroit, Indianapolis, Louisville, Minneapolis, St. Paul, and Philadelphia have gone through wrenching labor disputes that ended with the players taking significant and painful salary and benefit cuts. The Philadelphia Orchestra went through bankruptcy organization; the Minnesota Orchestra musicians endured a bitter fifteen-month lockout that led to the resignation of its music director (followed by the resignation of its executive director and a final, triumphant reengagement of the music director). Two years ago, the Atlanta Symphony musicians were locked out and the vitriol in the press, especially the "blogosphere" was astounding. In January, a similar mess played out with the smaller Hartford (CT) Symphony, and resolved itself only after the musicians and the music director (conductor) agreed to substantial pay cuts. And now (September 2016) the musicians of the Fort Worth Symphony are on strike, the Pittsburgh Symphony and its players are in closed-door negotiations, and things are starting to heat up again with the Philadelphia Orchestra as well (the players having denounced management's initial offer as "regressive").
The New York City Opera, once a popular a thriving "people's opera" offering a lower cost and often more adventurous alternative to its Lincoln Center neighbor, the Metropolitan Opera, went out of business in 2013. It was revived in a smaller and more flexible form in January 2016, with most of its performances in the Jazz at Lincoln Center venues on New York's Columbus Circle, particularly the Rose Theater, rather than its former home, the cavernous David H. Koch Theater in the main Lincoln Center complex. (The Rose Theater has approximately half the number of seats as the Koch.)
Peter Gelb, the general director of the Metropolitan Opera, said during union contract negotiations in 2014 that even that institution–perhaps the most famous opera company in the world, and the largest-budget classical-music institution in the United States– faced possible bankruptcy if its employees didn't take major cuts in compensation. While a settlement avoiding a strike or lockout was reached (Terry Teachout of the Wall Street Journal, asserting the cuts in compensation the singers, players, and stagehands agreed to were too small, called it Apocalypse Later), the Met's still-shaky finances have been the subject of much discussion. New York Times business columnist and New Yorker staff writer James Stewart, a DePauw alum and trustee, wrote A Fight at the Opera, a major New Yorker piece examining the situation, in March 2015, which we will read.
How'd this happen? Whose fault is it?
We will see that there are competing narratives. Performers and their supporters blame administrators and boards for ineffective fundraising, poor marketing and counterproductive artistic choices. Administrators and boards blame a changing culture and ever-rising expenses, especially the costs of unionized employees whose salary and health and pension benefits are, they say, unsustainable. The Met's Peter Gelb, who asked its unions for major cuts, has answered his critics in part by saying, "The problem that we face is a social and cultural problem, and the question is not whether I think I'm doing a good job or not in trying to keep the opera alive. It's whether I'm doing a good job or not in the face of a cultural and social rejection of opera as an art form." [emphasis added]
As we will see when we read Jim Stewart's article, others respond that Gelb, who had little or no experience in opera when he took over the Met, has funded over-priced new productions that don't attract a large enough paying audience or inspire wealthy patrons to donate enough money. Various commentators have pointed out that other opera companies regularly sell out all their tickets–the Vienna State Opera being one of the most notable. On the other hand, while the Met has 3800 seats, Vienna has 2284; a ticket-sales triumph in Vienna is a disaster in New York. It's complicated.
There are major orchestras doing very well, including those in Chicago, Cincinnati, and Los Angeles. And there's new enthusiasm surrounding the orchestras mentioned above as having had strikes or lockouts. Their near-death experiences triggered renewed energy and commitment as key segments of the community realized what they were so close to losing, as news coverage of the labor situations generated much needed publicity for the institutions.
When the San Diego Opera board announced in March 2014 that the organization would be disbanded, the city rallied. A new board was put in place, and the institution was saved (at least for now). (Something similar almost happened with the Green Bay Symphony. When its closure was announced in June 2014, a Facebook Group to Save the Green Bay Symphony was formed; it nevertheless ceased operations in April 2015.)
Smaller groups are flourishing in many cases. Our alumnus and oft-quoted blogger Jon Silpayamanant has documented well over two hundred small opera companies that have been formed since 2001, with nearly all of them still operating. One is the Intimate Opera of Indianapolis, co-founded by another School of Music alum, Amy Elaine Hayes (Steven Linville is her co-executive director). The summer music festival I started in Greencastle in 2005 had its biggest audiences and most successful fundraising season ever this year. The part-time Lafayette Symphony (led by SoM alum Sarah Mummey) is thriving.
Perhaps someday we will look back at this period and say, as Mr. Dickens once wrote, "It was the best of times, it was the worst of times."
Chicken Littles? Some commentators, including consultant Drew McManus (who writes the Adaptistration blog), call proponents of the "classical crisis" narrative (like Mr. Sandow) "Chicken Littles." Mr. Silpayamanant, who in recent years has tried to steer clear of inflammatory "Chicken Little" language, often suggests that that problems with attendance are indeed failures of programming and marketing, asserting that the sort of "cultural and social rejection" Mr. Gelb perceives is actually excuse making (the employees of the Met clearly agreed).
Climate Change Deniers? Additional commentators argue classical music is doing fine overall. When the online magazine Slate published Mark Vanhoenacker's piece "Requiem: Classical Music in America is Dead," it was met with cutting responses from William Robin in The New Yorker and Andy Doe at his blog Proper Discord. Not surprisingly, those who suggest all is well with classical music are occasionally compared to climate-change deniers (by a commenter on Greg Sandow's blog, for example) by those enumerating the struggles mentioned above. Dismissing the folding of the New York City Opera, the Indianapolis Opera cutting its 2013-2014 season by 25%, and the strikes and lockouts and drastic pay cuts as inconsequential while pointing to some successes–isn't that like saying, sure, it was the hottest summer, glaciers are melting, hurricanes are more intense than ever, sea levels are rising, the water tables in portions of Miami are starting to rise above ground, but heck, there was a lot of snow and record cold temperatures in January, so what's the problem?
Legacy institutions: the hardest hit. Climate change or ineffective management and marketing, the problems we've looked at above have been experienced in the most pronounced way by what are sometimes called the legacy institutions of classical music. These are the large organizations which have existed for decades (some over 100 years); have a large number of full-time employees (both administrative and artistic) who receive health-insurance and other benefits, and many of whom belong to powerful unions that resist any change to the status quo; and in most cases perform in very large concert halls or auditoriums which are increasingly difficult to fill. (As I mentioned above, when the smaller scale, revived version of the New York City Opera performs in the Rose Theater at JALC, they have less than half the number of seats to fill than they did at their former home on the main Lincoln Center campus.)
New model/21cm approaches. While many of the legacy institutions struggle, there are a number of ensembles and individual performers who are doing very well. In this course we refer to them as new model and/or 21cm performers and groups. Particularly well-known are the thriving new-music groups such as Kronos, eighth blackbird, Alarm Will Sound, and the International Contemporary Ensemble. The River Oaks Chamber Orchestra in Houston is frequently cited as a successful model; its repertoire includes more standard classical music. Performing in recent years at DePauw have been the vocal group Roomful of Teeth, the versatile string quartet Ethel, the world-influenced Trio Globo, The King's Singers (an ever-evolving vocal group), and the innovative cellist Maya Beiser. (We bring these groups here primarily to give students in the School of Music a first-hand experience and an opportunity to interact with cutting-edge, "21cm" performers.)
Blue Oceans. Here's a fascinating metaphor: when many businesses are compete in the same market for the same customers, it's like a bloody red ocean filled with sharks fighting over the same carcass. Do something new, something original. Then you have no competition. You create your own market. You find yourself sailing in a pristine blue ocean. (Read more at www.blueoceanstrategy.com.)
21cm success stories seem to embody this blue ocean principle. The majority of the 21cm groups we study have a unique repertoire. On the whole, traditional, mainstream string quartets play the great works from Haydn (the first important composer to write string quartets) up through Bartok, with some occasional new pieces. They compete playing pieces which form an essential part of the canon of Western art music. Who plays the best Beethoven or Brahms or Debussy? There are at least a hundred genuinely excellent groups playing this music. It can be a very red ocean. And the same holds true for solo pianists, for singers, for violinists, etc.
21cm groups, on the other hand, aren't competing with each other playing the same repertoire. Almost always, they have their own: pieces they have commissioned from composers, or that members of the group have written themselves. Many perform new arrangements or "remixes" of music from non-classical genres.
Merging Genres and Intercultural Collaboration and Influence. One thing you'll notice is that many (although not all) of these groups are deeply involved in combining genres. Time for Three's virtuoso string players play their own arrangements of Appalachian fiddle music and remix classical standards with a Bluegrass influence; Sybarite5 is famous in part for its Radiohead remixes. The trailblazing cellist Matt Haimovitz, who pioneered playing classical music in rock clubs and bars, has toured with arrangements of songs by Arcade Fire, Radiohead, and others by his performing partner, the pianist Christopher O'Riley (which can be heard on their album Shuffle.Play.Listen.).
Cross-cultural collaboration, fertilization, and mutual influence are frequent as well. Yo-Yo Ma's Silk Road Project has been the most high-profile and well-funded of these efforts; it's performances and other initiatives bring non-western and classical musicians together in amazing global collaborations. Classical performers who participate in Silk Road, such as the the string quartet Brooklyn Rider and the chamber orchestra The Knights, (of the BR members are core members) have embraced the new eclecticism and broad vision of the Silk Road Project in their own work. In their DePauw concert, Ethel worked with the Native American flutist and composer Robert Mirabal.
Music: It's Not Just for Concerts Anymore. These 21cm, new-model organizations have also transcended a performance-0nly model (i.e., "we are a music group, we give concerts, and that's it) to what I first heard the arts consultant and former President of the Kennedy Center Michael Kaiser refer to as the expanded portfolio model. They are deeply involved in education and community-engagement activities and performances in non-traditional venues. "I don't think of us as a performing organization," Adrian Ellis, then the executive director of Jazz at Lincoln Center said in a 2011 talk I attended. "We are an educational institution that also presents events." We'll see that many of the groups we study, including Fifth House Ensemble and our current ensemble in residence Decoda have educational and community-engagement activities at the core of their work. Decoda's work in prisons is especially notable, and is definitely the sort of thing that virtually none of your professors thought we were preparing ourselves for when we were in music school.
Alternatives to the Single-Employer Model: Consortiums. In the decades after World War II, symphony orchestras began to pattern themselves on the booming corporate/industrial model of full-time, full-year employment, with unions representing the players, negotiating for increased benefits (such as healthcare and pensions) and better work conditions (a music director can no longer fire a player on a whim, for example, and rehearsals end when scheduled, or the players receive overtime pay). This worked for an increasing number of orchestras for a while (and still does for some), but came at a cost for many players of workplace satisfaction. Players who don't resonate with a music director and/or section leader's approach to making music can feel trapped (which is to say that while a lot of full-time orchestra musicians love their jobs, plenty of others are unhappy). To be happy in a full-time orchestra, you have to embrace the fact that other people are going to be deciding what music you'll play, how it will be interpreted, when the rehearsals and concerts will be, etc. There's little if any artistic control, which can be deeply frustrating. And as we are seeing, full-year, full-time employment for orchestra musicians is financially unsustainable for an increasing number of institutions.
Meanwhile, more and more groups are working with a consortium model ("an agreement, combination, or group [as of companies] formed to undertake an enterprise beyond the resources of any one member"). Groups such as Fifth House Ensemble, ICE (International Contemporary Ensemble), and Decoda have many member players (10 for Fifth House, 33 for ICE, 32 for Decoda). Often small subsets of the group, two to three musicians, perform a concert or engage with students at a school or inmates in a prison, with the entire group performing together only on special occasions. Here's how ICE explains it:
ICE projects are by nature modular and malleable. The ensemble is comprised of 33 soloists, among which myriad combinations of instrumental configurations are possible. ICE can be a comprised of a laptop alone on the stage of a nightclub one night; a performance installation in a gallery with three ICE musicians the next night; a large ensemble on stage at Lincoln Center the night after that; and any imaginable combination among, between or beyond.
Portfolio Careers. Relatively few of these new-model/21cm groups are based on the full-time, single-employer model. Instead, most 21cm musicians have portfolio careers, in which they perform with multiple ensembles, play solo concerts, teach privately or through educational institutions, and sometimes even do non-musical work that complements and informs their core artistry. Many musicians thrive on the creative variety and interaction with new collaborators that this career structure embraces, and if they are based in a consortium-model organization, they report that their other experiences enrich their work with the core organization.
The consortium/portfolio career model, with its infinite flexibility and virtually unlimited opportunity for creative growth, is appealing to many musicians who are more attracted to creative control and growth than financial stability. Teaching, through private lessons, workshops, and masterclasses, fits easily into this model as well. Many artists enjoying this kind of career prefer it over a full-time orchestra job. And with full-time jobs becoming fewer, and the long-term health of many legacy institutions at risk, it is important that you are aware of these possibilities as you imagine your own future
In this course we investigate and document these phenomena, at least as much as a single class of undergraduates can in one semester. We look at successes and failures, at old models and new. We look at the competing narratives. We will develop our own meta-narrative(s), bringing to bear as much information about the philosophy, sociology, history and economics of classical music as we can. We are not only artists, we are intellectuals. We are critical thinkers. And we will exercise those skills, as well as our creativity, in this course.
Most importantly, we will will draw on all we explore and learn to imagine powerful new possibilities for the role of musicians in 21st-century society and an inspiring future to energize you as you move through the rest of your time at DePauw.
September 7, 2016 · 11:01 PM
There are some days when I can't believe I actually get paid to do my job. The day started with an engaging and inspiring talk by our (that is, DePauw's) alum Bill Hayes and his wife Susan Seaforth Hayes, cast members of Days of Our Lives, continued with a fascinating presentation by my chemistry/biochemistry colleague Dan Gurnon on the life-saving genetic research he and his students are doing, and ended with seeing the riveting film Reparation, cowritten by my colleague Steve Timm and our alum Kyle Ham, who directed and produced the movie designed by another colleague, G. Duane Skoog.
While I've been trying to turn myself into more of a morning person (one who isn't in the office at 10:30pm as I am right now), at 7:30am today I set the alarm for 9:15, stuck the apnea mask back on, and had some more sleep.
Then I was at DePauw at 10:20am for our weekly School of Music recital hour. Two weeks ago, I had the honor of opening the first session of year with an improvisation, played over the students and faculty singing a drone. Last week, Dale Henderson, founder and guiding light of the international Bach in the Subways movement, the "man who inspired the world to play Bach," (OK, lots of us played Bach before Dale, but not thousands of us in 40 countries in all sorts of unexpected places in an extended J.S. Bach birthday party), was our guest artist, and I interviewed him and led a question and answer session that left many of us inspired to find ways to bring classical music to new audiences. (Dale played all six suites in a standing-room-only performance that evening.)
I know, I'm rambling. This week, no Eric in the recital hour, except in the audience.
Two of our students, Derrick Truby and Dylan Prentice, led a fascinating and inspiring "Storytellers" session with our 1947 (!) alumnus Bill Hayes and his wife Susan Seaforth Hayes. They are best known for their roles on NBC's Days of Our Lives (Susan since 1968, Bill since 1970), and have many other credits, including Bill's 1955 chart-topping rendition of "The Ballad of Davy Crockett." Charming, witty, entertaining, and inspiring, they had great rapport not only with each other but with the student hosts as well. Terrific advice for everyone on being enthusiastic, energetic, resilient and professional. I was moved when Bill reminisced about campus life in the 1940s. Women had to be in their dorms by 10:00pm on Sundays and weeknights, 11:00pm on Fridays, and midnight on Saturdays. Men–evidently with a later curfew if one at all–would gather on the front lawn of a dorm or sorority house to sing four-part harmony to the women, who, gathered on a porch, would sing back to them. We all, even the current students, seemed to feel nostalgic together, especially when Bill told us the tradition was one of the reasons he came to DePauw.
That came to an end and I ambled over to the Memorial Union Building for a Faculty Forum lunch. A couple of times a month, we have a light buffet lunch while a colleague does a presentation on their work. Today, Dan Gurnon, of our chemistry and biochemistry department, did a fascinating–well, not just fascinating but engaging and entertaining, the kind of thing that could help get a guy named the Indiana Professor of the Year–presentation on the work he and his students have been doing on diagnosing rare genetic diseases, in conjunction with the Rare Genomics Institute. After giving us a crash course in proteins, genes, and DNA, followed by a brief history of the story of DNA sequencing and how breakthroughs in technology have lowered the cost from a billion dollars to just a thousand or less, Dan showed us how he and his students can take the genetic information from a patient and their parents and pinpoint a genetic abnormality resulting from a recessive gene in both parents. He explained everything so clearly, and with such a great set of slides that you'd think he had an entire production team working for him, that despite having multitasked through chunks of his talk (trying to get someone to retrieve the backpack I'd left in the recital hall), I believe I just summarized his talk accurately.
It was the second "Oh, wow, I'm getting paid to be here" moment of the day. If every lecture was as informative and engaging and delivered with as much enthusiasm and humor as this was, they wouldn't be going out of style.
Then it was off to teach a cello lesson–that's so much fun (really) that I'd do it for free. (So when I'm at meetings that are truly work, I tell myself I do all the music teaching for free and I'm getting paid quite a bit to go to two or three or four or five meetings in a week.)
Tonight I attended a showing of the film Reparation, which has been winning film festival awards right and left, based on a play by my colleague Steve Timm, and cowritten by him and our 1994 alum Kyle Ham, who directed and was one of the producers of the film. Shot (gorgeously, with cinematography by Jay Silver) here in Putnam County, much of it in Greencastle and on the DePauw campus, it's an intense drama involving PTSD and some psychic mystery. I would have been totally lost in it, except I kept recognizing locations and friends like Amy Hayes, Gigi Jennewein, Susan Anthony, and Joe Buser in small roles. In a very big role is the young Dale Dye Thomas, daughter of my colleague Ron Dye, who (not surprisingly) won the Best Child Actress award at the 2015 Breckenridge Film Festival. The production designer was G. Duane Skoog, who is the technical director of DePauw's Judson and Joyce Green Center for the Performing Arts; the fights scenes were choreographed by another colleague, Andrew Hayes.
Here's the trailer:
OK, I didn't actually get paid to go see the movie. The ticket was $6. And it was so good I had to come back to the office and write about it. It's 11:40pm. So much for becoming a morning person!
My inner voice is telling me to start vlogging, so here we go. The cream puff story from my last post, recounted a bit differently. I'd love your comments. This is my first "cream puff" of whatever this vlogging activity is to be.
The phone rang. Actually, it buzzed, vibrating on the coffee table. I looked down, and there was my friend's smiling face. I always enjoy seeing it–when I took the photo of her, I'd said, "Think of sex!" and she responded with a surprised laugh.
"Eric, are you home?" Yes. "Oh good! I have some Easter cheer for you. I'll be over soon."
Not much longer and there was a rapping, rapping, at my old front door. Once our fearsome miniature schnauzer, Riley, was under control, I went and greeted my smiling friend.
"I know how much you guys like cream puffs," she said as she handed the foil-covered box of "Easter joy" to me, complete with a greeting card on top. I thanked her profusely. We chatted a bit. She said she hoped to see me in church tomorrow, and I said I'd be there. With–surprise!–my daughter, home briefly from NY, and also my ex-wife (whom we all love), who is coming in for the night as she returns home from a concert and teaching trip.
There were more Easter cheer deliveries to make, and so my friend went happily on her way. I went and told my husband, still in bed, that "Mary just brought us cream puffs." He smiled and stretched his sleepy body with surprised ecstasy.
What a great way to spend a sunny Saturday morning, I realized. She's having a blast.
I'm sitting here feeling stuck with a writing project. My inner critic is always worrying that whatever I'm writing or playing is not good enough, that it will be judged, that my worth as a person will be judged.
If I notice that, I can step aside from it, let it be, and connect with other energies. My friend Dale keeps nudging me to meditate, and suddenly it seems like every other article I read or podcast I listen to discusses meditation. OK, OK, universe, thanks for the messages, I'll meditate!
The Easter cheer delivery lady, who loves to bake, has, I'm sure, thought about what her friends' favorites are and made them to deliver this morning. It's an act of caring, attentive, loving friendship.
Time now, I think, to reimagine much of what I do, with writing, with playing, with preparing classes, as creating the gifts I can deliver to friends.
Let's call it cream-puff energy, a nice replacement for anxiety.
Hey there, everyone in Alaska (I'm getting traffic from there, don't ask me why)!
Friday evening, the amazing pianist/composer Fernando Otero and I did a short performance in a packed room at the elegant Consulate General of Argentina. It was one of three shows that doubled as showcases for attendees at the Association of Performing Arts Presenters conference taking place this weekend in midtown Manhattan. We played selections from our soon-to-be-released album, Dual, compositions by Fernando arranged for cello and piano. It is a dream come true to have now performed several times with him.
Saturday morning Mr. Photographer and I slept in, having been up a bit late the night before celebrating with my daughter and her aunt. Then came a lot of practicing as I prepare sonatas by Bach, Debussy, Schnittke, and Prokofiev for a Tuesday 7:30PM concert with Taka Kigawa at Spectrum, a venue in the East Village.
Since it was about 50º, we decided to go down to the Brooklyn Bridge for some #celloeverywhere. It took me a bit to get packed, and then the trains were slow, so it was just about sunset when we arrived. It was actually quite packed; it seemed like most of Manhattan and Brooklyn and decided to go to each other's side of the river.
I'd got as close to the fence as possible to stay out of peoples' way. There are actually two lanes, one for walkers and one for people on bikes, and the walkers were trespassing in the bikers' territory with abandon, and I didn't want to make the situation any more complicated than it was.
There were some smiles. It was getting cold, and dark, and not many people stopped to listen. Then along came a gaggle of young men who did stop and listen. One very sweetly took a dollar out of his wallet and tried to give it to me, but I smiled and said, "No money!" One of his companions pointed out, "It's a photo shoot." And I finished the Bach Allemande I was playing, explained #celloeverywhere, and gave them a card. They explained that they, too, are musicians, singing Monday night at Carnegie Hall, in a concert of music by Sir Karl Jenkins.
They went on back to Manhattan. Mr. Photographer headed towards Brooklyn.
And then it got very windy, and cold, and started to rain a bit. But just a bit–and then it stopped. We tried some photos with Manhattan in the background. The light was difficult–we'd need a different lense or some lights to make it work with me in the foreground and the city lights behind. This photo works best in black and white with some adjusting of light levels:
I think it's pretty cool!
Finally we got towards the middle of the bridge, and during a break from foot and bicycle traffic, were able to get this shot:
That one, Mr. Photgrapher, is very cool. Thanks!
As it was getting colder and darker, and I was concerned I was more in peoples' way that actually offering a gift, we went back across the bridge, and along with everyone else, found Starbucks to warm up.
Playing in Times Square
Mr. Photographer and I headed over to Times Square last night, where nothing anyone does is going to attract much attention. Still, we had fun with some street performers.
I thought they were having fun. Maybe they were, but they also wanted tips! Well, they don't have full-time college professor jobs.
There was a beautiful moment when a mother and her daughter stopped to listen for a couple of minutes. The little girl, about two and a half, waved and sang out, "bye bye" when they left. Several people stopped and took videos. Some puzzled smiles from people who seemed to recognize what I was playing–and also wondering, I imagine, why someone would be doing this when it was about 35 degrees. (I did have to stop from time to time to warm up my left hand.)
It's just really fun. What can I say? I love playing the cello. Everywhere!
Sunday in the Park with . . . the Rain
It's a busy week, as I'm preparing for an APAP showcase performance with Fernando Otero on Friday night (celebrating the upcoming release of our new album "Dual"), and a recital with Taka Kigawa of Bach, Debussy, Schnittke, and Prokofiev on Tuesday the 19th at Spectrum, a relatively new venue in Greenwich Village. And Thursday through Sunday last week I was attending the Chamber Music America Annual Conference here in New York.
Sunday it was warm–nearly 60 degrees. But it was raining most of the day. As late afternoon approached, the skies cleared above Carnegie Hall (down the block from our hotel), and so Mr. Photgrapher and I grabbed the camera, the carbon-fiber cello, and my camp stool, hopped on the subway, and got off at West 4th St., all set to head to Washington Square Park.
And it started raining again. Not just mist, but rain. So we ducked in the coffee shop, had coffee only (Mr. P wouldn't allow me any pie, and my blood sugar thanks him), and waited for the rain to pass. What a world we live in–we could watch the weather radar on our iPhones. At one point it was just like the good old days in Tampa: it was sunny and raining.
Finally we were able to walk down to the park. The wet pavement was gorgeous, it was still cloudy, and I was in the mood for the Bach D Minor Suite:
Funny how the world had turned black and white! Well, actually that was a photo-editing filter. As the sky continued to brighten, more people walked by, a few stopping to listen for a bit.

redpajama_set_name: RedPajamaCommonCrawl


text:
Mega Man Retrospective Part 9 —Back to the Basics
By Sean Anthony
In September of 2008, it had been over a decade since Mega Man 8 was released, putting the classic series on hold. The X and Zero series completely took over the 2D side-scrolling formula (with a less-than-stellar entry that had 3D segments), the ZX series concluded after just two entries, and the Battle Network games were being released as strategy-spin offs. Upon the completion of Mega Man ZX Advent, Inti Creates once again worked with Capcom to pay homage to the original series, as the classic games were becoming popular thanks to services like the Wii's Virtual Console.
This is how Mega Man 9 was born. It was to be a "back to its roots" take on the series, complete with an 8-bit aesthetic. It's exciting, it's well-crafted, but is going back to the basics the best bet for the Blue Bomber?
Dr. Light clearly isn't being framed here (Story)
It has been a while since Dr. Wily's last defeat. The world has seen a period of peace once again. Suddenly, robots around the world have started to go crazy and they all share two things in common: they were built by Dr. Light, and their expiration date is coming soon.
Shortly after, Wily interrupts all television programming to show a clip of "Dr. Light" confessing to using the robots in a plot to take over the world. To counter this, Wily gave his bank account information on the air and claimed that donations would help him build a robot army to counter Dr. Light's.
Not long after, Dr. Light is arrested by the police. Once Mega Man defeats all 8 of the new robot masters, he finds a memory chip that shows that Wily told them about their expiration dates and promised that he could help them. He reprogrammed the robot masters to rise about against their human masters.
Wily was once again hiding out in his castle, where he expected Mega Man to arrive and thwart his plot. Upon confronting and defeating Wily, the mad doctor warned that he had Dr. Light in a cage, and that the policeman that arrested him was a fake. He had to choose whether to save Dr. Light, or capture Wily. Before making this choice, Proto Man appears and warns Mega Man that it's obviously a trap. However, Mega Man believes that he can't take the chance of the real Dr. Light being in danger and instead choices to free him.
Proto Man was right, the Dr. Light in the cage was a fake. It shorts out and electrocutes Mega Man, causing him to go unconscious as Wily makes his escape. This robot was the Dr. Light from the video Wily showed at the beginning of the game. Proto Man, disappointed in Mega Man's naive demeanor, still rescues his brother before the castle collapses on them.
After being found innocent of all wrongdoing, Dr. Light is freed and returns to his lab. He then finds a new purpose for all of the robots scheduled for demolition.
What's new in Mega Man 9?
Mega Man 9 is difficult to talk about in the retrospective because its whole focus was on hitting that nostalgia button. He's back to his 8-bit self, but this included removing several of the mechanics we've grown accustomed to such as charging the Mega Buster and sliding. This means that the game will play similarly to an incredibly-smooth Mega Man 2.
But eight robot masters and Wily's Castle isn't the only thing Mega Man 9 brings to the table. It's technically the first classic Mega Man game to feature achievements in-game. These achievements can be as simple as beating one of the Robot Masters in under a certain amount of time, but they can be as difficult as beating the entire game without getting hit once. Completionists tremble at the mere thought of completing all of these challenges. (Add to the fact that the PS3 and 360 versions have these as trophies and gamerscore, and you've got an added challenge.)
There is also a Time Attack mode where you can see how fast you can complete each of the Robot Master's stages. There's even a special stage and bosses inspired by the gameboy entries exclusive to this mode, but that's not initially unlocked. When the game was released, the only way to access it was to buy it.
Mega Man 9 was unfortunately released in the era of Capcom's rampant abuse of customer-loyalty with disc-locked DLC. There are several bonus modes in the game, but you originally had to pay a few dollars to unlock each of them. The justification is that Mega Man 9 was just $10 when it was released. Fortunately, the Mega Man Legacy Collection 2's version of the game had all of the DLC included, and some of them are interesting.
One of the additions are two new difficulty options, Hero Mode and Superhero Mode. Instead of just upping the damage produced by enemies, there are now more enemies scattered around each levels, making it a jolly-romp through Deathsville each time. There is also an endurance mode where it randomizes the stages you'll go through and keeps track of how long you survive.
Finally, there is Proto Man mode, a mode where you play as Proto Man, who retains all of Mega Man's moves from Mega Man 4-6 with a bonus shield for whenever he jumps. While he does take more damage and can only fire in bursts of two, he's a good choice for fans that wanted more moves at their disposal. And this marks the first time we can play as Proto Man in a classic Mega Man game.
How does it hold up?
My biggest gripe with Mega Man 9 was just with the concept of removing content from a game in order to have players charge for it later as DLC. Besides this, Mega Man 9 is pretty solid compared to even the recent entries in the series. There is a legacy mode that allows you to turn on screen flickering, but without it, the game runs smooth, and the Robot Masters all have interesting designs.
They've even added their first female-representing Robot Master to the cast, Splash Woman. At its release, this turned a few heads at first, but was widely accepted with many wondering why it hadn't happened sooner.
If you're running through every game in sequential order, there are a few issues with Mega Man going back to his basics. The idea of sliding under enemy attacks has become second nature, and attempting to do so in the main game only leads to pain as Mega Man will stand still, watching helplessly as the attack heads towards his perfectly, human-looking head. Proto Man mode is nice to give this back to you, but you're losing out on access to the store and taking more damage as a result.
In addition, the ability to switch weapons using the shoulder buttons has been removed as well. This was an unnecessary redaction, as the shoulder button switching was a quality of life change thanks to controller evolution. We didn't lose these buttons, so having to pause to change weapons breaks the pace of the game.
Otherwise, Mega Man 9 was a huge success. It can be compared to Mega Man 2 primarily (after all, its level-intro music and victory theme are taken from there), but it has the level design quality from some of the best Robot Masters in the series.
Best Robot Master: Galaxy Man
Galaxy Man's stage is a stage of risks and innovations. The whole aesthetic is space, which can rarely be seen as a bad thing, and all of the enemies are space-themed as well. Despite being inspired by classic Mega Man games, the vertical segments in this stage aren't actually terrible. Which, after playing through 8 games back-to-back, is one of the most pleasant surprises. Instead, while on a ladder, there are slow moving UFO enemies in a line that are manageable.
The two biggest risks in this stage are teleporters that launch you upward from the exit point, and the Bunby Catcher, an enemy that grabs Mega Man and runs off in a direction, causing whatever is in their path to hurt you instead. The Bunby Catcher is used in several creative ways. Shortly after you're introduced to it, you're pushed to the right in a segment of platforms and perils. You can still jump while you've been grabbed, meaning that brief portion of the stage is basically an auto runner. Completing these sections through reaction alone feels good.
It can also be used for completely malicious purposes. Later on, there is a segment where a Bunby Catcher will come down and grab you, but you pass that point on the screen three times. The second time you pass it, there is a spike wall to the right. Meaning, if you forget that his trigger area is there, and you fail to bait him into coming down, you'll probably die. However, since you were taught about the hazard far in advance, this feels much more justified than a cheap death.
Galaxy Man's arena is a large vertical arena that gives him plenty of space to fly around in. His main attack is the Blackhole Bomb, which pulls you in while he teleports to the center to hurt you by… existing? Since you can outrun this attack, it's actually possible to quickly turn around, shoot him, then turn back around to keep running. Nothing about this fight feels unfair, and his special weapon, the Blackhole Bomb, will allow you to suck up any small enemies nearby when you use it, including bullets.
Worst Robot Master: Jewel Man
It's a trope at this point. Every Mega Man game has a Robot Master that surrounds itself in its weapon, and then that weapon is fired in some way. This goes all the way back to Woodman's Leaf Shield. Jewel Man is no different, and his Jewel Satellite functions similarly before it jets off to attack anyone that dares to cross its diamond-studded path.
The stage itself takes place in a jewel mine. There are several minecart enemies that like to explode when you kill them, but the most frustrating part of this stage comes in the form of a swinging platform. On this platform, you have to run back and forth to make it swing, which doesn't sound bad, until you come across several sections with spikes. It's far too easy to run into these.
Immediately after one of these death-pendulums is a sub-boss that is… just a rock. From here, seemingly random rocks will fall from the ceiling until the boss himself drops down. If you're on the ground when he hits, you're stunned then run over. He's a pain, it's a ton of waiting and dodging, but he's not anything too difficult.
Jewel Man's fight is ridiculously easy when you figure out his trick. He'll shoot four jewels around him, which launch towards you if you wait long enough or hit them with a buster shot. Every time you jump, he'll jump in reaction. This means you can easily bait him into jumping over you with a short hop, as he'll always give his 100%. Even without the Gravity Bomb (which does a massive 5 pegs of damage each hit), Jewel Man is a push-over.
Mega Man 9 was a bold move by Capcom and Inti Creates, and it was one that was met with critical acclaim. Going back to the basics is just what the series needed at the time, and it was the best way to think about the series going forward. Compared to previous entries in the series, there isn't a single "terrible" Robot Master in the game, even if Jewel Man's stage was slightly annoying.
After its success, Capcom knew that they struck gold. Fans liked this old look for Mega Man, and they knew that they wanted more. Just over a year later, Capcom wondered if they could make lightning strike twice. But, will fans warm up to another oldschool entry with Mega Man 10, or would they quickly become sick of the 8-bit aesthetic?
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