The Art of Frolicking

by Giulia Martinez-Brenner

I don’t remember precisely when I stopped playing with my sisters. There must have been a last time, which of course you don’t know then and there. Like how there was an instant when your parents put you down and never picked you up again. There is a distinct point in time that could mark these moments, but in memory changes become hazy and gradual. My younger sisters continued without me. At the beginning they still pleaded with me to join their games, learned to not waste their breath, and I was left alone, without regret. I had more important things on my mind than silly distractions. The world was turning sober, and things needed to be treated accordingly. I suddenly wanted everything to be serious; people had to be serious for me to respect them, for something to be of importance it had to be heavy.

We would wrap ourselves in my mother’s scarves to create ball gowns. One of my personal favourites was to put a rope across the top of my head - fashionably secured in place with a bright blue swimming cap - because I was convinced it looked like two long braids. We would run, and ships, round and around the apartment I now know was actually so small.

this attitude trickled down, as it always does. My youngest sister was left to play on her own or with friends, until the day came she stopped too.

As a new member in the stage of solemnity, I was realizing how meaningful everything was. I learnt about responsibility and accountability, how all actions matter. Things were so thickly ings engrained in the ways of our world could do justice to the weight of our troubles, I had to respond to humourlessness with the same.

Now, this path can then lead to many places. I may have ended up a bit of a cynic. Once you see how serious and important things are from up close, you need to take a step back for a breather. And if you take enough of those steps, you also ingful and intense, but it’s also just a ridiculous little dance if you look at it from far enough away. I’m not entirely sure how to hold both of these thoughts in my mind.

friends. We skipped, frolicked, danced in the dunes, with or without music. We gathered and the forest, because for some reason, throwing sticks really hit the spot. Or we just ran, not for exercise, or urgency, just because it felt good. It felt great. It wasn’t like playing board games, or kind of playing didn’t necessarily have an intention, or a structure. It was being playful. It was seeing immensity in the smallest things, like in a dead branch, but an immensity that could be joyfully laughed at. It was understanding that this may all be just a game, but this game is still all we have.

And it had been so long since I’d felt playful. A habit abandoned, replaced with ways I presumed to be better, and fuelled by the fear of seeming immature or thoughtless if this wasn’t maintained.

Maybe frolicking is the way of balancing another way to respond to humourlessness is with humour. Or maybe once in a while you really just need a good scamper across sand.

Daniel’s Delectable Discussions

by Daniel Kamenkovitch

Is UCU a Liberal Arts (LA) college? What does “liberal” even mean? The name of this educational style as we know it today has its origin in the septem artes liberales, which included the Trivium (Grammar, Dialectic, Rhetoric) and – as commonly established by A. M. S. Boethius (7th century A.D.) and later further advocated in court by Charlemagne (8/9th century A.D.) – the Quadrivium (Arithmetic, Geometry, Music, Astronomy). These “liberal” disciplines have their origin in Ancient Greece (within the history of Europe, at least), where sciences and humanities would be practiced to “educate citizens” (only males, sadly). Education did not play the primary role of equipping an individual with knowledge, but ultimately it was to provide wisdom – i.e. a body of knowledge and experi assembly. Education’s ultimate goal or target was the collective, the polis.

The English word for “liberal” education use it was, in fact, Cicero (4th century B.C.). Throughout this semester, I have come to under “liberal” education: (a) free of worries about interacting with the “polis” or city life, (b) freeing the mind by engaging in worldly as well as personal knowledge, i.e. personal growth and echoing the Greek Know Thyself, and (c) the elective course system. Thinking about this led me to ask myself whether UCU follows a traditional liberal arts history, or whether it is part of a more new movement.

Well, what do we have? We do follow a Platonic tradition in being a gated campus away from the hustle and bustle of the main city centre, just like his Academy; although we do not necessarily require students to stay here for 50 years! We have many extracurriculars, and a highly But the latter never was within a liberal arts tradition, at least not until Harvard President C. W. Eliot introduced some reforms in 1869. It is since then that we have this elective system for students, which we now take for granted. In the classical LA tradition, the focus was more on (a) the breadth, needed for the attainment of as well as (b) oneself; and (c) certain subjects paramount to the curriculum as a result of the previous two. At UCU, the latter one is, of course, not the case. UCU is a college for interdisciplinarity; although it does not truly require much breadth (in disciplines) from its students, it also does not prescribe a strict content-oriented syllabus. Content-related requirements do arise at UCU; but most only from within the necessity to “major” in a particular department or subject to begin with seems to clash with the tradition of liberal education. Irving Babbitt, too, argued that specialization should not be rather, it is the building of a “gentleman’s” (or lady’s) attitude, having in mind a “positive focusing on building one’s own character. He refers to this approach as humane education.

After engaging with this topic this past semester, for me, a “liberal education” thus came to mean a span of three or even four years (original LA Harvard curriculums) where the about one’s academics, oneself and the world around oneself. Being forced to specialize early onward at our age I deem not all being “liberal”. But tradition is one thing, and modernity has its spice. I came to UCU because I could do Psychology, Cog Neuro, Philosophy, Linguistics and Literature. What do you think? Within its arts, what is UCU’s “liberal”? What, to you, is “liberal arts”?

The Last Column Ever: an ode to UCU and

the real world By Noor van Asseldonk Chen

Writing your last column ever is hard. So, armed with a heavy case of writer’s block, I did the classic thing of turning to my friends and asking them what they might like to read. Answers ranged from a guide to signing up with people to looking back on all the UCU-isms that I’ll have missed out on thanks to COVID. Nothing fully clicked and I wondered if there was anything I could write about that was a little more… well, me.

Nowadays, the only things I seem capable of thinking about as a soonto-be graduate are thesis, masters, internships, and whether wearing pants during online commencement is optional (seriously, who’s gonna know?). The idea of being done and dusted in two months makes me feel weird, almost like I blinked right around introweek, fell asleep, and have now awoken with The Real World looming ahead larger than ever. Corona robbed me of half my time at UCU, which means that things were cut short just as I was getting comfortable. Don’t get me wrong, I'm aware that I’m lucky to have expe the bar, crowded unit parties, hangover brunch at Dining Hall … I took a lot for granted.

But to some extent I also feel like the time is right. I am totally ready to leave other things, like Facebook beefs, awkward run-ins with people I’d rather avoid, and stinky drains, behind.

But all things considered, I’m glad I got to do so much in our little bubble, and many from the graduating class will no doubt agree. Sorry for being all sentimental... it comes with old age, you see. Looking forward feels awkward because there’s no telling if UCU will have prepared us for the real world. Sure, I can do a like capitalist neocolonialism in a sentence, but I have a feeling that the real lessons I’ve learnt at UCU lie elsewhere. Like how one unitmate gave me a perfect recipe for dumplings, or that time I realized some beliefs I held dear needed serious unlearning, or how I realized doing group projects that I can be both ‘the capable type A group member’ or ‘the dipshit that didn’t do anything’. To quote Kylie Jenner, we’re all just like, realizing things. I’m grateful that UCU has given me the freedom to realize so much in so little time. While I’m still world, I have faith that all the little lessons and moments I’ve collected at UCU will ground me in future ventures. So long, and thanks for all the mice.

Living Deliciously by Veere Boucher

ality of food really stood out to me. Of course, I've spent less time on cooking in previous years, which might be the main reason, but I like to think it's because I've gotten older. I don't necessarily like aging, but one of the little joys that comes with it - at least for now - is that I'm noticing that my understanding of the world around me is broadening still rather quickly. I thought I was a pretty well-informed teenager, but boy has there been a lot of growth in just the last three years! Which means that the time ahead will certainly hold little pockets of knowledge and skills for me to discover like presents along the way. You'll have to excuse me, I have to think this way to soften the blow of turning 21 this year…

Anyway, back to the seasons. The sun really is out longer each day! It’s almost frightening how time seems to go faster. I'm afraid I'm feeling the years pick up speed without actually noticing. Similarly, another new realization of mine has been discovering what foods grow when. Not that I didn't know before, but I was never fully aware. I could talk about my main diet being pumpkin, beans and sweet potato in fall, but that would take up vital space for discussing spring fruit and veg! Hasn't it been so exciting?

I've never 'gotten' the national asparagus hype. I never understood why there were hollandaise sauce stands in every supermarket, or why we were discussing this 'white gold' in white stick that my mom had spent too much work on. Tha is, until this spring. We got some nice thick asparagus* and made them into a quiche with smoked chicken, thyme and goats cheese. It was incredible. Melt-in your-mouth it thrice. Unfortunately, the season is almost over and you will have little opportunity to recreate this little miracle of a dish. However, a new delicious plant is now ready for us to munch on: strawberries! Though you're seeing plenty of them in the stores, their real growing season is as limited as asparagus': from June till the end of July. There's a reason the Dutch call them 'zomerkoninkjes', or 'little summer one of the year again, which I wholeheartedly recommend. Do try to buy organic ones though! Strawberries are not only the kings of summer, but also the kings of pesticides. They actually have up to six times the amount of harmful products on them compared to other produce, and on average, a Dutch strawberry has been

Yum? Oh well. I wish you all a delicious summer break with plenty of gorgeous, fresh, in-season produce! *If you are confused by 'asparagus' not beingplural: a 15 minute google search has taught me that neither 'asparagi' nor 'asparaguses' is correct, and that asparagus is in fact a mass noun, not unlike lettuce and rice. Don't shoot the messenger!

Important Opinions on Important Movies

by Sam de Visser

writing it about Ratatouille (Brad Bird, 2007). Is that a basic choice? Yes. Am I a zoomer and therefore somehow contractually obligated to write about this movie? Yes! Is it a great movie? Yes! Wow, what optimism in these dark days! But to be honest, my reasons for picking this as the last movie I will ever write about (in my entire life, ever) go a little deeper than just ‘it’s really good and I love it’. But I will have to spoil this movie a bit, so if you somehow care about spoilers for a widely loved, very popular movie that is fourteen years old, consider this your spoiler warning.

Let me start with the very basics—I love Ratatouille. It’s really funny, heartfelt, well-animated and incredibly atmospheric, even though it is about a rat who is also a chef, a concept that sounds kind of dumb. There is many a video essay out there that can explain how good this movie is in a much, much better way than me, but rest assured this movie is one of the greatest movie presents Paris in a better light than even Amélie, and Paris the real-life city could only wish it was half as sick as the Paris in this movie. Also, the music is amazing! And the vibes! And the voice acting! I really like this movie and I but it’s just great!

But what I love the most about this movie is its message. I tend to denounce the ‘message’ of a movie, especially one that’s supposed to be a kids’ movie like Ratatouille; not because I hate children, but more because they tend to be quite heavy-handed and anything but subtle. And to be fair, Ratatouille’s message is quite heavyhanded and anything but subtle. I just really like it.

Near the end of this movie, the evil movie critic guy, who hates everything and believes that artistry is a gift only bestowed upon the very elite of society, does a 180 after eating a titular ratatouille (prepared by aforementioned rat who is also a chef), which reminds him of his childhood. He then gives an incredibly powerful monologue on the nature of professional criticism that has no place at all in what’s supposed to be a kids’ movie. (That’s also partly what makes Ratatouille great—it’s somewhat aimed at children, but never dumbs itself down, and is genuinely heartfelt while many other movies are not.)

This monologue is really good, and you can tions with good reason. But there’s one line in there that really stands out to me, although you normally don’t hear it quoted that often: “the bitter truth we critics must face, is that in the grand scheme of things, the average piece of junk is probably more meaningful than our criticism designating it so”. I love this line because it sums up why people who tend to dismiss others’ taste in movies (or art, books, etc.) are the literal worst. The quality of something does is terrible, but you enjoy it—who cares?

This is not the main philosophy of Ratatouille (which is probably “not anyone can be a great artist, but a great artist can come from for even touching upon this great notion, and fact that this is also a really good, wholesome, is it not?

Either way, it’s been a pleasure writing mediocre movie columns these last two years. I truly hope I’ve inspired some of you to watch some of these movies, some of which you no doubt have seen already, some of which you may never have heard of. And no matter what happens, keep in mind that the average piece of junk is probably more meaningful than any criticism designating it so. Keep enjoying what you’re enjoying. I’m done rambling for now—hope you had fun reading these.