Post- 03/16/18

Issue

In This

To Be in The Kitchen

Emerson Tenney 4

The New Generation

Nicole Fegan 2 JAMES FEINBERG 5

Coming Attractions EMMA MARGULIES 6

The Everyday Beauty of Ballet

postCover by Katya Labowe-Stoll

MAR 16

VOL 21 —

ISSUE 7

FEATURES

The New Generation

Building Communities at Brown

W

written By Nicole Fegan – illustrated by Miranda Villanueva & Kira widjaja

hen I Joined

Letter from the Editor

my high school’s tech crew freshman year, I was one of the first girls accepted onto the crew in five years— one of the first girls to pick up those drills, gain expertise with a circular saw, and run construction projects. In the years that followed, more girls joined, building impressive set pieces and rising through the ranks to eventually lead the crew. Now, as I am two years out of high school, I can look back like some kind of proud parent to see that nearly two-thirds of the crew are girls.

When I came to Brown, I expected to find a variation of the environment I encountered in high school: a field dominated by men, in which I would have to prove myself for years. Instead, I discovered a large theatre company with a tiny tech community run almost entirely by a single woman powerhouse tech director (TD). I was surprised but delighted; there was a place for me where I wouldn’t have to fight to assert myself. I found a space I was enthusiastic about joining and, in a stunning turn of events, was able to do so uncontestedly.

As delighted as I am to not have struggled through gaggles of men or

people in general to tech-direct various shows, the entire situation seemed suspicious to me. Building is such a popular interest, especially for men, so where was everybody? One answer I quickly found was the Brown Design Workshop (BDW). All engineering students at Brown must be trained at the BDW as part of ENGN 0030, so many people become familiar with that space.

The BDW not only provides a resource for students doing classwork but also houses the Brown Building Society, the Rube Goldberg Society, Brown Formula Racing, RISD projects, and many independent projects. From my estimation, hundreds of students build at the BDW each semester, and yet the technical theatre community is something verging on miniscule.

At first, I viewed this distribution of builders with contempt. With 35 BDS monitors and hundreds of students working in the space, why have so few joined the theatre building community? Upon speaking with members of the BDW and other tech directors on campus, however, I’m no longer concerned by this divide. As TD Rebecca Harless ’20 puts it, “I think it’s more of an experience

Numbers

Dear Readers, My body is bruised from my first attempt at

to bring a warm glow to your heart. Emma

cross-skiing, which was in turn an attempt

Margulies’ transcendental photos of the ballet

to get myself as far off campus as possible.

will transport you to another world, while

2. one (hour lost from daylight savings)

Russell Carey further fueled my escapist

Emerson Tenney’s evocative descriptions of

fantasies with his glorious gift of a snow day,

brussels sprouts and oyster mushrooms will

3. three (little pigs, or birds)

during which, rather than coming up with a

remind you of home.

thesis proposal, I watched The Darkest Hour and The Post with my brother. All in all, I’m

Soaking in every second of extra sunshine

very ready to start Spring Break a week early.

thanks to DST with Post- in hand, yours truly,

If you’re in the same boat, this issue’s got you covered. Nicole Fegan celebrates women theatre tech crew, and James Feinberg extols the virtues of The Flick; both pieces are bound

Saanya - editor in chief

1. two (months I have left to get a job)

4.

se7en (good movie)

5. five (the mambo’s number) 6. eight (days a week) 7. 99 (the number of problems I have) 8. 3.14159265358979323 9. 2.71828182845904523 (e, the less popular number to memorize) 10. 7/11 (Beyoncé’s song) (also where I get slurpees)

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thing when it comes to TD-ing as a niche activity— if you got into it and had a positive experience in high school, you’re more likely to TD in college.”

Similarly, many aspiring engineers are introduced to the BDW through their classes, and whether or not they stick with that track academically, they stick with the space because of its familiarity.

There is certainly something to be said about the gendered divide between engineering and theatre, but I cannot argue with sticking to what you are comfortable with when I myself have not reached

women in engineering classes, women taking over the set construction world on campus—has conviction and is unafraid to challenge societal conventions and expectations.

Due to the systems in place that have propelled men to the forefront of these communities, different expectations are set for women from the get-go, both by other people and by ourselves.

I never imagined myself as a builder; I even told my eighth-grade technology teacher I would

who had used a jigsaw before. That never feels great, but I get it a lot, so it doesn’t phase me much anymore.” This act of surprising other people with your competency, though it can sometimes feel uncomfortable or degrading, can also feel powerful.

There is power in being a woman teaching a man how to use a power drill. There is power in being a woman in charge of a space. There is power in doing something my way, simply because I have the knowledge and skills.

“never have any use for this.” Later, I was only

Despite the roadblocks and expectations, something about this particular campus seems to make achieving equality in building feasible.

Amanda Morel ’19, member of the Brown Building Society, says, “At BBS, and at Brown more generally, I do not really feel any marginalization or exclusion based upon my gender. I find myself rarely thinking about my gender in association with construction.”

This does not minimize the struggle but rather points out something remarkable about the culture of Brown. Nearly half of the 35 monitors at the BDW are women. All of the current tech directors for student theatre on campus are women. The official technical theatre department and Brown Building Society both have many women workers. While I have not taken an in-depth look at every university or organization in America, I know that Brown is doing something right in comparison to the outside world. This transformation has not been immediate; the Brown Design Workshop was created by men, and almost all of the adults in charge in the various shops across campus are men. The change can only be attributed to a growing new generation of women.

There are 15 women monitors at the BDW paving the way for future women engineers. Members of the BDW mentor students from the Lincoln School, an all-girls high school in Providence, once a week to introduce them to engineering early. And when I got to campus and saw Stacie Farrow ’18 building every set for student theatre, I knew that could be me.

The next generation of women is here, and we do not care that men still hold the highest positions of power in construction. We do not care that the Tony Award for set design is male-dominated. We do not care that the word “engineer” is still maleassociated. Here at Brown, powerful women are doing what we love, simply because we can.

There is an initial hurdle that must be overcome in order for a woman to enter the world of construction—building is not expected of us, so we need to make it our own. too far beyond my high school interests.

Since my experience is only my own and I cannot speak for every woman who has ever constructed anything, I wanted to learn more about what it’s like to be a woman who builds at Brown. In talking to women in various areas of building, I have found two common links. One, there is a distinct power in being a woman who builds, no matter the environment; two, Brown must be doing something right because we all feel like this is a place for us.

Despite worthwhile modern progress, building is still a male-dominated field. Emily Sauter '19, one of the BDW’s managers, pointed out that even though there has been progress in getting women into STEM fields, she is still one of the only women in her advanced engineering classes. The head of technical theatre for the Brown Theatre Department and all of the professional adults who work at the BDW are men. Despite this, or perhaps even because of it, the new generation of women—

drawn to my high school’s tech crew because I had developed friendships with all of the guys on the crew who had been developing their skills for years. Emily had a similar experience when beginning to build at Brown. Upon beginning to work at the BDW, she realized she didn’t know as much as those who had grown up working on projects with their fathers. Izzy Bauman ’19, a tech director and engineer, wrote to me, “Often when a man is present, I find myself default to the assumption that he is inherently better at building than I am, which is often untrue, and therefore can become unsafe. To combat this, I have to stick to my gut and embody a degree of confidence that I do not normally have.” There is an initial hurdle that must be overcome in order for a woman to enter the world of construction—building is not expected of us, so we need to make it our own.

Because women are believed to have started at a point of disadvantage, building comes with a sense of defying expectations. Izzy recalls, “Recently, I was in a mechanical engineering laboratory, and the instructor was audibly surprised that I, the only woman in the group, was the only person to raise her hand when he asked

"Diagrams are the foreplay of a good essay."

"Isn’t life just LARPing?"

"I stopped being cute March of last year."

march 16, 2018 3

NARRATIVE

To Be in The Kitchen

What Happens to Make a Meal

By Emerson Tenney illustrated by Pia Mileaf-Patel The time between Christmas Eve morning and Christmas Eve night used to feel weeks long. This year was the first year I realized it was only ever a few hours. Of course there were also the days leading up to the party—the 22nd and the 23rd, and those, too, were small infinities—but it was only ever really on that day that the true violence of Christmas kicked in. Mountains of vegetables appeared in the base of our sink, spilled onto the countertop, waiting to be cleaned and chopped. Brussels sprouts to be quartered, oyster mushrooms to be pulled apart and griddled in butter, parsnips julienned, sweet potatoes sliced into rounds on the mandolin.

For most of my life this was an act of mysticism: the enigma of the appearing vegetables. And even more unfathomable, the mystery of my appearing mother. It didn’t matter how early in the morning I woke up, it was certain that when I stumbled downstairs and into the kitchen, Mom would be there already elbow-deep in the prep of clarifying butter, cleaning racks of lamb, slicing bread. I’d stand in the doorway for a moment, silent and barefoot, until I was noticed and swept into the swell of “mix this, toss these, measure that.” As I got older, the directions broadened to include activities that required blades and heat and an eye for timing. But the fundamental atmosphere stayed—I was aboard a

4 post–

ship I did not own, and it was my job to do work, and when the clock face showed 5 p.m., to get out.

After five was my time for answering the door, pouring champagne, and remaining tethered to the phone that rang with the arrival of each new car at our gate until the very last guest was upstairs by the fire and chatting comfortably with a miniature poached pear and Gruyere grilled cheese sandwich in hand.

When I reached my teens I began to push, lightly, against what went unquestioned for so many years.

“Don’t you think 60 lamb chops is a bit much for only 28 people if you’re also making pork ribs and halibut?” I was, inevitably, wrong most all of the time. We wanted 30 cold lamb chops to sit in the fridge or be diced into omelets, and you never knew when you could use some for a hash. Didn’t I know that Grandma and Grandpa would take leftovers home to freeze and de-thaw well into February? Of

I was, perpetually on the losing side of my unknown fight for recognition.

Acknowledgement is easy when it comes to desserts. You can say, “That’s my carrot cake,” or “I made the rosemary plum crumble.” You don’t get that when it comes to dinner. There’s no one parsing who chopped the brussels, fried the shallots, cleaned the portobellos. It’s like any dining experience—there is only ever the chef and the food on your plate.

Now, I wonder when these roots of disturbance were originally planted. I think it’s too easy to say the whole affair was grounded in some childish form of jealousy toward a celebrated mother. My mom was single for the majority of my upbringing, and this past winter was the first time I’d heard news of a romantic interest on the horizon. So maybe this is why somewhere deep within me, there is a lilting toward her feeling of fundamental aloneness—her

For most of my life this was an act of mysticism: the enigma of the appearing vegetables. And even more unfathomable, the mystery of my appearing mother. course I did know these things. In retrospect I think what I was really looking for was some way to make my presence known in the creation of Christmas.

At 6:30 p.m., when we all sat down for dinner, my mother would stand at the helm of our living room, looking out over the hodgepodge of long tables and fine china, and announce the impending meal. “And tonight I’ve made…”

Then everyone would applaud, and I, standing beside her, would feel a small pit in my stomach. Here

feeling, and the rage that any expression of that feeling evoked in me. I can’t count the times during my childhood that I heard her say, “Nobody loves me.” And I would cry back, “I love you.” I would cry back, “I love you!”

I was in the kitchen. I am still in the kitchen. And this year, for the first time, I felt, or at least hoped, that she saw I could help cook Christmas too.

LIFESTYLE

ARTS&CULTURE

Playing at the Movies

Wilbury Theatre Group’s The Flick at the Cable Car Cinema

By James Feinberg illustrated by katya labowe-stoll

Annie Baker’s play The Flick, which won her the Pulitzer Prize for Drama in 2014, is being performed on-site at the Cable Car Cinema through March 25 by the Wilbury Theatre Group. The strengths of a condensed version of the play (the 2015 OffBroadway revival ran for three hours and 10 minutes; this version runs two-and-a-half hours) are remarkably evident in this production directed by Wendy Overy; however, the play's weaknesses, like a tendency to rely on popular culture for some of its more powerful emotional beats, are still present but easier to pass over. In the face of the last five years of depressing cultural developments, not least of which include Baker’s most recent play, the annoying The Antipodes, Overly’s deft presentation of the playwright’s gorgeous characterization is especially vibrant.

The question as to whether The Flick is a historically important work is as of yet open, but it has an empathy for its characters that is colossally moving, and Wilbury gets that right.

The premise—three movie theater employees in run-down central Massachusetts are gradually carved into troughs of loneliness, detailed exquisitely

by Baker. Avery (Ronald Lewis), a 20-year-old film buff, struggles with paralyzing depression and lack of fulfillment; 35-year-old Sam (the terrific Dave Rabinow) lacks the agency or opportunity to change his life; and 20-something Rose (Anna Basile), trapped by her anger and emotional inadequacy, manages to alienate both of them. (Seth Finkle also shows up in a couple of blink-and-you’ll-miss-’em roles.) These are layered performances, delicate and almost lush in their capacity to invite the audience in. Rabinow, especially, is heartbreaking— at least partially due to Baker’s extraordinary skill in diagramming the male psyche.

The Flick justifies theater, which is thrilling; ironically, the play could never be filmed or adapted to any other medium. But it makes a great argument for art in general, too. Sam and Avery spend a good deal of time talking about movies (including rounds and rounds of a variation on Six Degrees of Kevin Bacon), but the conversation feels just as legitimate as anything else in the play. The play is about how connections form, however they form. Baker writes fantastically in contemporary vernacular, and that vernacular is informed, inevitably, by the ubiquity of pop culture. It’s a modern play, which is why the on-site location is so apt. In a performance theater, the play’s set—the seats in a movie theater facing the audience—has the potential to take the audience out of the action. That’s considerably less of an issue when Sam and Avery are actually sweeping popcorn out from under your feet.

And they do sweep, not quite endlessly (thanks to those reductions) but certainly long-windedly.

Popcorn, soda, and a single New Balance shoe (don’t ask) are swept cleanly away and deposited in garbage bags, all alongside the action. There is something transporting about the very surroundings of a theater space being transformed in order to allow an audience into it. On the night I saw The Flick, the show began at eight, and the last film of the night had ended at seven-thirty. The Wilbury crew had less than a half an hour to dash into the theater and set up the seats and risers for the waiting crowd. No one can deny that’s romantic, and I’d say it’s pretty Baker-esque.

Overly’s The Flick occupies emotional space, which is not always the case with productions of contemporary theater, and deserves recognition. But it’s more the idea of the play than the content itself that resonates here. The Flick is a tremendously human work, and a humanistic one too, and Overly’s production recognizes and embraces that, which is the ultimate endorsement. The question as to whether The Flick is a historically important work is as of yet open, but it has an empathy for its characters that is colossally moving, and Wilbury gets that right.

march 16, 2018 5

ARTS&CULTURE

The Everyday Beauty of Ballet

Capturing Unstaged Moments with Festival Ballet Photographed By Emma Margulies

These photos were born out of a collaboration with Festival Ballet Providence, Rhode Island’s premiere ballet company. I initially reached out because ballet was an unknown art form to me and I wanted to learn more about it through photography.

At first, I didn’t really know what moments I wanted to capture, and I shot anything and everything during my weekly visits to the company’s rehearsals. This wasn’t entirely fruitful, as all the dancers moved very quickly, and the rehearsal space doubles as a black

box theater with very dim lighting when there isn’t a performance, making for a tough photographing experience. However, as I spent more time with the dancers, I learned what the best angles were and began to anticipate the moments that I wanted to capture so that I would be ready to release the shutter at just the right time. Ultimately, I hoped to capture the calm and joy, the determination and frustration that I was able to witness as a guest in the dancers’ space.

Editor-in-Chief

Design

Saanya Jain

Sarah Saxe

Feature

Copy

Managing Editor

Chief Alicia DeVos

Jennifer Osborne

Zander Kim

Section Editors

Amanda Ngo

Anita Sheih Kathy Luo

Layout Chief Livia Mucciolo

Narrative

Gabriela Gil

Managing Editors

Ro Antia

Annabelle Woodward

Nina Yuchi

Pia Mileaf-Patel

Jacob Lee

Section Editors Divya Santhanam

Media Claribel Wu

Arts & Culture

Samantha Haigood

Managing Editor

Anita Sheih

Josh Wartel

“Most days, plumbing does not fascinate me.”

—Anonymous, Et tu, Laundromat?

3.17.16

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Section Editors

Illustration

Celina Sun

Heads

Marly Toledano

Miranda Villanueva

Julian Castronovo

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