THE STANFORD ARTS REVIEW

Features Opinions
Perspectives Art

more than a quirk: Clementine Jacoby and the art of aerials

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by KATHARINE SCHWAB

If you’re ever biking up the row, you might be lucky enough to catch a glimpse of a girl flying through the air.

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art is prophecy: a profile of IDA director Jeff Chang

by KATIE SALMON 

The first question that crossed my mind when I met Jeff Chang was: How does a Chinese-Hawaiian prep school kid from the islands with a hipster-esque fashion sense become one of today’s preeminent hip-hip scholars and activists? 

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dancing on the cusp of insanity: a review of Next To Normal

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by BOJAN SRB

It’s heartwrenching. Never doubt: it’s heartwrenching. No show I have seen in my two years at Stanford heaves with as much aesthetically mobilized darkness as Ram’s Head and the Stanford Theatre Lab’s production of Next to Normal, which opened on Thursday at the Elliot Programing Center.

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from baseball to the beat: an interview with freddy avis

by LINDSAY MEWES

Sitting in a studio upstairs in the magical place that is the Center for Computer Research in Music and Acoustics (CCRMA) surrounded by synthesizers, speakers, gizmos and gadgets, Freddy Avis looks right at home. As a sophomore majoring in Music and specializing in Music, Science, and Technology (MST), Avis spends a lot of time at CCRMA developing his music—something he is only able to do after choosing to redshirt for the Stanford Varsity Baseball team this year due to an ongoing shoulder injury. In February, he and his brother Charlie wrote, produced, and released “Fortress”— an album self-described as “dark, dancy, and delightful”— under the band name “Arswain.” Since then, Avis has continued to explore and develop his music through the resources CCRMA and Stanford’s greater artistic community has to offer.

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art in the internet age: a selfish profile of witt fetter

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by SARIKA REDDY

Art is an experience. It’s cliché – but it is. It’s an experience of the individual viewing it. And so, I’m going to start this artist profile selfishly. I’m not going to claim anything objective about the artist or his work, but how I, as a person, experience the collages crafted by Witt Fetter.

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living for yourself: a review of House of Aunts

by BOJAN SRB

“DON’T NOBODY WORRY I GOT THE FIRE EXTINGUISHER!”

Producer Ariana Johnson bellowed these words of encouragement as the lights dimmed around the Papua New Guinea Sculpture Garden, and the preview of the Asian American Theatre Project’s production of House of Aunts, began.

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slapstick, subtlety, and sexual innuendo: a review of Picasso at the Lapin Agile

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by KATIE SALMON

Roble Theater has been transformed into a turn of the century Parisian café for the production of Steve Martin’s comedy Picasso at the Lapin Agile, directed by Max Walker-Silverman and produced by Safiya Nygaard. Let me set the scene: two guitar players strummed at one of the small tables, which were grouped in front of the bar and extended almost to the first row of the audience.  On the chalkboard menu were items like Marion Cote-de-lard.  The bar tender, Freddy (Sebastian Sanchez-Luege), came down and asked if I wanted some wine.  It could, I decided, only get better from here.

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which party? dancing on the greek/co-op divide

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by JAKE FRIEDLER

On Friday night, I finally found the comfortable space I needed to explore my identity as a witch.

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cartoons and curiosity: Garry Trudeau of Doonesbury takes on the meaning of life

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by KELSEY DAYTON

It’s a tall order— probably futile, possibly absurd— to have to give a lecture on “A Meaningful Life.” Yet each year, in honor of the late Professor Harry Rathbun, Stanford’s Office for Religious Life selects a visiting lecturer to speak on exactly that topic, invariably selling out Memorial Auditorium with people looking for wisdom.

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taming the beast: a review of Les Miserables

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by KATIE STRAUB

Les Misérables is the show every now-college-aged musical theater geek saw when they were ten years old, memorized, and has since been singing in the shower. When Ram’s Head asked the Stanford student body if “they hear the people sing” and opened auditions early last quarter, every closeted showgirl and -guy at Stanford felt at least some pull to come out of the woodwork (or that steaming shower stall) for a chance to sing legendary music and play legendary roles.

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