Weekend

WEEKEND // FRIDAY, OCTOBER 18, 2013

HANNAH SCHWARZ and ERIC XIAO examine whether monogamy truly is a thing of the past. // Page 3

COLLEGE DROPOUTS

B5

CALORIES

B9

CROONING

B10

DO THIEL FELLOWS GET AHEAD?

THE COUNT DOESN’T ADD UP

PARTING LYRICS

Maya Averbuch follows three former students who took $100,000 and lef tYale.

Eleanor Runde cracks the case of the dining hall menu cards.

David Whipple ends his column on a high note.

PAGE B2

YALE DAILY NEWS · FRIDAY, OCTOBER 18, 2013 · yaledailynews.com

HOW TO MARCH // BY WILL ADAMS

BORJA

On Monday, I found out that I had failed one of my midterms.

Not like, “Oh, damn, probably got a B-” failure. Like straightup, forty-six out of one hundred points failure. I slunk off to lunch; the Berkeley Mac and Cheese I love tasted less exciting than usual.

Three hours later, I found out that the dean of Calhoun College, my dean, Leslie Woodard, passed away unexpectedly. Four hours later, I stood in the Calhoun courtyard, shoulders hunched, holding a white candle that had been poked through a paper cup.

I love the courtyard’s simplicity, the way it neatly delineates the whole college in one easy square.

No coved sections with hidden entryways, no bisecting arches.

No matter where you stand, you can see the entire inside of Calhoun. I never wanted to experience the courtyard the way I did Monday night: seeing hundreds of faces, warmed by candlelight but cold and silent; seeing my own vision distorted by tears. I didn’t want to be there under these circumstances.

But there we were, faced with a reality that had been too easy to deny when it came through email.

With a microphone, Calhoun master Jonathan Holloway spoke to us, describing the spectrum of emotions that come with events like these. There were a variety

of emotions, yes, but they mostly melded into a shapeless mass of confusion. My mind raced through them. With each one, I was pulled in a different direction. Sadness: This is too soon, for her and for us. Regret: I should have gotten to know her more. I should have recognized her warm spirit and made it a part of my life. Pragmatism: I have assignments due tomorrow and a midterm that I failed. The world is still turning. Anger: the world is so fucking unfair. Again, the confusion: what is the proper emotion to feel right now? I don’t know. My throat was sore from holding down sobs.

Master Holloway implored that we remember what Dean Woodard would say in the face of tough times, and with a startlingly accurate impression, he said: “Pick yourself up. Dust yourself off.

March with a capital M.” The words resonated for their power but also for the daunting task they presented. Dean Woodard’s infectious enthusiasm for life has stayed with me since the moment I first saw her at my sister’s graduation — which took place in that same courtyard. There she had been, announcing the seniors’ names and majors with immeasurable pride. I will never forget it. After such a loss, how do I pick myself up, dust myself off and march? What is the force that

The Essence of Elegance // BY YVETTE BORJA

My summer in Berkeley crafting policy memos and campaign pitches was a life-changing one. I came away with a renewed sense of purpose, sharpened analytical skills and, most critically, a sense of profound kinship with a group of thirty people who all had the same burning desire to change the world. We commemorated the end of our time together by writing each other “warm fuzzies,” messages meant to capture the essence of our fondness for each other. One warm fuzzy resonated quite deeply with me and I have pinned it on my inspiration corkboard to remind myself of the type of colleague I strive to be: “Yvette, you are so intelligent, dedicated, passionate and RATCHET; my everything. If you ever need me, remember that I will always be here to be the same ol’ ratchet John I’ve always been.”

My dear friend John taught me many things, one of the most important being the word “ratchét” pronounced “ruh-shay.”

From post-class happy hours to throwing the occasional bit of shade (for those of you unfamiliar with the term, “shade” is a kind of implicit, sharp rudeness) in class, our times were indeed the epitome of ratchét.

What constitutes a ratchét lifestyle? An Urban Dictionary entry might read: ratchét (n., adj.): a bougie ratchet; a sophisticated hot mess.

Person 1: We placed first in the conference, and then first in the beerlympics.

Person 2: Turn up! Girl, you ratchét.

An e-card sent to me by a fellow ratchét enthusiast aptly captures the essence of the identity.

The e-card read: “Multifaceted: the ability to do ratchet things over the weekend and return to Corporate America on Monday like ain’t shit happen.”

At its core, being ratchét is characterized by a refusal to ascribe to modes of formality, an acknowledgement of the fact that being successful does not require subscribing to stifling behavioral norms. It’s an antidote to stuffiness. A ratchét lifestyle calls on its followers to be consistently onpoint in order to ensure that when basicity needs to be handled and shade needs to be thrown, you can be the first to do so, free of criti-

F R I D AY OCTOBER 18

cism. Indeed, my cohort’s summer economics analysis course would not have been the same had we not frequently employed the usage of a sign that read “SHADE” in colorfully capitalized letters.

The wielding of the sign provided an apt recognition of the verbal sparring that often characterized discussion. With usages ranging from calling out a guest lecturer’s veiled racism to a professor calling out a student’s napping, shade abounded as we refused to let opportune moments for potential ratchét pass us by.

My summer cohort was comprised of some of the most accomplished people I have ever met: young elected officials, dedicated activists, founders of nonprofits.

Many had been through considerable hardship, but all had entered their young professional lives looking fresh as ever, unfazed by the miscellaneous haters. Ratchét demonstrates not only how far we have come, but also our desire to transform the systems we’re entering — by giving them a little bit of life. Our cohort theme song is “Pour it Up” by Rihanna, a patron saint of the ratchét mentality. As RiRi so poetically delineates: despite her frequent exploits with “strip clubs and dollar bills” she’s “still got more money.” She won’t ever let you forget that It’s “four o’clock and we ain’t going home” ‘cause, she’s “still got more money” than you.

Since adopting the ratchét mentality, what has been most comforting is the fact that my fellow enthusiasts have continued both their hard-driving pursuit of success and their DGAF attitude.

I’m currently on an email thread about my summer cohort’s fall break reunion, the kickoff event being “The Essence of Elegance hosted by 2Chainz.”

Because ratchét is an attitude — a mode of being — it can be employed continuously. Ratchét is a consistent effort to keep professional spaces in check and our sanity balanced. After a summer of bottomless mimosa Sundays and “Pour it Up” turn-ups, I can definitively conclude: ratchét is a lifestyle.

Contact YVETTE BORJA at yvette.borja@yale.edu .

sets me on that path? Perhaps no external force is necessary. Perhaps just marching is needed. Just a step.

I think I cried hardest when someone walked dean Woodard’s Shetland Sheepdog Jimmy Dean around the courtyard to let students pet him. When he reached me, I crumbled. “What are you going to do now?” I thought. “Who is going to take care of you?” I bent down to brush my hand against his fur, but only for a moment, because I knew he still had to travel around the circle. I couldn’t keep him close; that wouldn’t be fair to the others. It wouldn’t be fair to Jimmy. I lifted my hand, straightened my body and let the people to my right reach their hands down.

As I watched Jimmy move away from me slowly, I extinguished my candle. Motown music softly played over the speakers, and the crowd stood silently. After a minute, people began to break from the circle, either to place their candles into the courtyard’s lawn, or to talk to others, or to leave the courtyard. As I approached my fellow Calhoun juniors, I saw the circle dissolve into an array of moving people speaking in hushed murmurs and walking in different directions.

Contact WILL ADAMS at william.adams@yale.edu .

KAHOE & MADISON

ADAMS

WEEKEND VIEWS

// ANNELISA LEINBACH

In Case You Missed It // BY CODY KAHOE AND CALEB MADISON Every week, thousands of newsworthy events transpire on Yale’s campus, and unfortunately, the YDN just doesn’t always have room for all of them.

To help you catch up on some of the events you might

Local Student Amazed at How Accurately Buzzfeed Article Depicts His Life Yale Inaugurates New President, Peter Hussein Salovey

With New President, Yale Looks to Africa; Can’t Quite See It

New Haven Biker Gang Rides through Yale Campus, Freshman Winces

Safety Dance Still Canceled Section Asshole Saves Class from Burning Building

Student Drama Production Wows Friends and Family of Cast

Student Body Fails to Notice Pundits Prank Yale Sporting Event Results in Outcome

Former FroCo Group Members Vow to “Get A Meal Sometime” Poopetrator Copycat Poops in Toilet Yale Senior Has “Something” To Do Thursday and Sunday Nights

Student in North Court to Everyone: Excuse Me, Are You in Berkeley?

Pigeon Flies into Classroom, Aces American Studies Midterm

Commons Closed Friday for Orgy

Residential College Gate Pushed Instead of Pulled

Yale Bros Not Actually Bros Local Student “Can’t Believe” We Are Halfway Through the Semester Bob Marley Poster Feels “So College,” Suite Explains Student Supplements Lecture Material with Facebook

Berkeley Mac And Cheese Feels Out of Place in Calhoun Canonical Text “Actually Really Sexist,” Writes DS Student Student Rationalizes Inadequacy by Seeing Himself as Small Fish in Big Pond

Local Fraternity Chapter Disappointed by Loose Interpretation of Party Theme Student Feels He’s Developed Unique Rapport with Adam from G-Heav

Excited Freshman Tapped for GroupMe If you have any other stories you wish had made the YDN this week, email them to n.ferguson.ydn@gmail.com.

Contact CALEB MADISON and CODY KAHOE at caleb.madison@yale.edu and f.kahoe@yale.edu .

HITCHCOCK SCREENING: “VERTIGO”

WEEKEND RECOMMENDS:

212 York St. // 5–8 p.m.

It was just voted the best movie ever made!

have missed this week, we’ve published some of the important news headlines that didn’t quite make the cut.

Chaider

Everyone says it tastes really good, and it actually does.

YALE DAILY NEWS · FRIDAY, OCTOBER 18, 2013 · yaledailynews.com

PAGE B3

WEEKEND COVER

LOVE AT YALE, ACTUALLY // BY HANNAH SCHWARZ AND ERIC XIAO

Three hours after the email is sent out, Christian Probst ’16 responds.

“Is Tuesday at 1 good?? That’s good for both of us! -Christian and Luke” We respond indicating that Stats and Lab won’t allow us to meet until later, hoping that they’ll find time to carve out of their days to talk about their relationship and the relationship culture at Yale — or lack thereof.

Exactly a minute after our response is sent: “Luke and I are free from 1-4:50? Or could do after 11 p.m.?” Christian seems unusually cognizant of his boyfriend’s schedule. I ask both of them about it.

They laugh, smile self-deprecatingly.

“We have our G-Cals shared with each other.”

Christian clarifies. “He stole mine first.”

“I was too embarrassed to share mine at first because I felt like I wasn’t that busy compared to him,” Luke Johnson ’16 says sheepishly.

They both agree it makes for easier scheduling — like this meeting.

Johnson and Probst sit down after finding a table, Johnson cupping his hands around a quarter-filled ‘23’ water bottle and Probst leaning forward on the rickety table. It’s a scene that might be deemed anomalous at Yale (or so-called #swugnation), where such romantic encounters should be few and far between — at least according to writers at The Atlantic and Slate. If chivalry is dead, these writers lend us the uplifting prediction that monogamy is close behind.

The barrage of commentary on relationship culture at Yale has categorized us as hyper-focused and tunnel-visioned and, to an extent, Johnson and Probst fit the mold.

Both are in a cappella groups (Mixed Company and the Duke’s Men, respectively), often involved in theater productions, and, for Christian, Yale Dancers. But, for all these “warning” signs — those that might seem to indicate an inability to devote oneself to another — they’re also atypical. In a sea of “I don’t have time’s,” they’ve somehow managed to manipulate the clock and find some. *** The Hanna Rosins, Kate Taylors and Caitlin Flanagans of the world paint for us a hookup culture, largely driven by girls, that has replaced the serious monogamy of yesteryear.

Titles like “Boys on the Side” (Rosin) and “She Can Play that Game, Too” (Taylor) ascribe

to these women an unflinching progressiveness. They hook up because they’re too busy pursuing JDs, MDs, MBAs, and personally addressing the gender wage gap. Or, as Flanagan informs us, they hook up not because they want to (actually, “they’re terrified of it”), but because they’ve grown up “with scant direction or guidance about their sexual lives.”

Describing how young girls are trying to escape the expectations of sexual promiscuity allegedly flung upon them, Flanagan asserts: “We’ve sunk pretty low, culturally speaking, when we’ve left it to the 14- and 15-year-old girls of the nation to make one of the last, great stands for human dignity.”

And distinguishing between extra-marital sex between adults and that between adolescents, she writes, “One-night stands may be perfectly enjoyable exercises for two consenting adults, but teenagers aren’t adults.”

Taylor combats these claims with anecdotes. These free sexual practices are the very things that allow adolescent women, at least, to become adult women. Rosin, whose sources tend to be slightly older in age, comes to a similar conclusion. “To put it crudely,” she writes, “feminist progress right now largely depends on the existence of the hookup culture.”

Whatever the exact interpretation, and however normative it may be, the first principle remains: Our generation is hooking up, and we’re doing it beyond Aphrodite’s wildest wet dreams. Call it concentrated (amongst the white and wealthy), destructive (Flanagan), progressive (Rosin), just don’t call it monogamy.

But a new paper from The American Sociological Association is calling it bullshit.

Using the General Social Survey, an in-person randomized opinion survey conducted every other year by the National Opinion Research Center, researchers Martin Monto and Anna Carey of the University of Portland compared data from two time periods: 1988-’96 and 2002’10. Looking at the sexual experiences and sentiments of undergraduates, they found that frequency of sex and

number of sexual partners in the later years was not significantly different from those in the earlier years.

In the earlier group, 65.2 percent of respondents reported having sex weekly or more often in the past year, compared to 59.3 percent of 2002-’10 respondents. And the number of recent sexual partners wasn’t very different either. 31.9 percent of respondents from the earlier group reported having more than one sexual partner in the past year, compared with 31.6 percent of those in the later group.

While millennials were 10 percent more likely to have had a casual date or hook-up in the past year, 13 percent more likely to have had sex with a friend, and 7 percent less likely to have a spouse or regular sexual partner, the researchers saw more temporal similarities than differences.

prostitution.

*** Cocking his head at an upward angle and pausing to add up hours, Harry Larson ’14 finally has the answer. Overall, he says, “We spend at least one or two waking hours a day together.”

He and Natasha Thondavadi ’14 have been dating since January of freshman year. (Thondavadi is a former Culture editor for the News, and Larson was an Opinion columnist.)

After living together in an off-campus apartment last year, they now share a suite in JE, the college that brought them together as friends when they first arrived at Yale. Even when they don’t have many waking hours together, they still have sleeping hours. They live across the hall from each other, but for all intents and purposes, Harry notes, “we live

EVERY STUDENT INTERVIEWED HAD HEARD THE ‘I DON’T HAVE TIME’ EXCUSE, BUT FEW IN RELATIONSHIPS BOUGHT IT. Relationship practices are changing, of course, but “this study demonstrates that we are not in the midst of a new era of no-rulesattached sexuality,” Monto asserted in a press release. “In fact, we found that, overall, sexual behavior among college students remained fairly consistent over the past 25 years.”

So, we’re less monogamous, but not startlingly so.

In “Boys on the Side,” Rosin writes, “America has unseated the Scandinavian countries for the title of Easiest Lay. We are, in the world’s estimation, a nation of prostitutes.

And not even prostitutes with hearts of gold.”

But the takeaway here is this: If today is salacious, so were the years of the crumbling of the Berlin Wall and the crack/cocaine epidemic.

There’s a consistency to the data that we often glance over. That is, we’re only prostitutes now if we were then.

And few would have characterized the elder Bush’s presidency as the era of

together.”

In other words, they’re not going out to Zinc every Friday night, or catching a movie every Saturday matinee. When it comes to the time they spend together, it can be slightly haphazard.

And, in Johnson and Probst’s case, extremely so.

“Our schedules are the most incompatible possible,” Johnson says animatedly, leaning forward and playing with his water bottle. Given their intensive academic and a cappella balancing acts, they often don’t see each other until late at night.

Their Mondays are a prime example. One of them wakes up (“and then the other rolls over, mumbles ‘have a good day,’ and passes out again,” Probst adds). Probst finishes classes at 2:15 p.m., Johnson at 5 p.m. They might grab a quick dinner; then go to rehearsal, sometimes followed by a tech rehearsal for a separate production; then reconvene at 11 or 12; do homework, go to GHeav, watch TV and go to bed.

“You can always find time. We sacrifice a lot of sleep,” Probst said.

“But it’s so worth it,” Johnson added hastily.

Despite living on different continents over the summer, the two stayed close, Skyping almost every day, emailing and sometimes texting “even though we weren’t supposed to because of international charges,” Probst laughed guiltily. Johnson spent two months in Japan on a Light Fellowship, while Probst remained in the U.S., part of the traveling Broadway tour of The Little Mermaid.

For Abby Reisner ’14 and Noah Steinfeld ’14, in order to battle this inevitable Yale time crunch, making sure to see each other every day is of utmost importance — even if it’s for a five-minute end-of-day suite drop-in. Despite the fact that they share YPMB as their main extracurricular, scheduling time to see one another remains a concentrated effort.

But those activities they do strive to share with one another don’t necessarily fit into the mold of stereotypical “dates.”

“It took us 16 months to see our first movie together,” she says. A conversation ensues in which they try to remember what they saw, but it takes more of a Herculean effort than they expected. “Well, must have been really memorable then,” Abby quips.

Instead, they go on runs and eat meals together — “anything we would do by ourselves, we do together.” Except homework, because Noah talks to himself while doing it, she said.

Ultimately, given these everyday moments she’s able to steal with Steinfeld, Reisner doesn’t buy the “I don’t have time” claim, adding, “if we have any problems, it’s that. But we’ve figured out ways to do it.”

Similarly, every student interviewed had heard the “I don’t have time” excuse, but few in relationships bought it.

Thondavadi lent her support to this statement, noting that being in a relationship does not actually take time away from her other heavy commitments. She was surprised that students felt this way, given that, in her view, the time spent being in a relationship would otherwise be spent socializing with friends anyway.

She said that in fact, she felt more comfortable in her relationship when she started having SEE MONOGAMY PAGE 8

// ANNELISA LEINBACH

S AT U R D AY OCTOBER 19

COLE PORTER SWING DANCE

WEEKEND RECOMMENDS:

The Quinnipiac Club // 8 - 11 p.m.

“Begin your beguine and brush up your fox-trot and Lindy Hop.”

Overcoats

This way you’ll be toasty when the chill rolls in.

PAGE B4

YALE DAILY NEWS · FRIDAY, OCTOBER 18, 2013 · yaledailynews.com

WEEKEND ARTS

LINES AND LETTERS // BY DALIA WOLFSON

You have to be buzzed in to enter the Institute Library — an unusual formality in the otherwise casual hullabaloo of Chapel Street, and yet it lends the institution an air of old-timey charm.

I press the button, wait for a crackling, and when asked, “What are you here for?” answer honestly: “I’d like to see the books.”

Indeed, you should enter just to take in the library — it’s a fully somatic experience: breathe in the old pages, run your fingers along leather-bound volumes, bask in golden sunlight and linger among words.

But today, I’m on a mission, so I continue upstairs to the gallery that the Institute Library opened over two years ago. Since then the space has hosted a number of exhibitions, organized primarily by writer-turnedcurator Stephen Kobasa. The latest one is a collection of drawings titled “Crossing the Line.”

The space itself is spare: four white walls, pictures framed or raw-edged, sitting on the floor or hung several feet above a scuffed red parquet. A few radiators with herbivore teeth, rounded and yellow, grin with their grilles. Outside through the windows is a parking lot with ant-people waving little arms about some issue or another. You can hear Sterling-style construction work outside, but for the most part the room is silent and well lit.

Two printed gallery guides lie on the table. There are no plaques or labels on the walls, only these papers that identify the surrounding pieces.

Later Mr. Kobasa tells me, “I don’t like footnotes,” and I take the lack of guidance to mean I should explore intrepidly: experience without explanation. I pick up the list and begin a slow museum shuffle — triple step, pause, triple step — towards item #1.

As I look around the room, I begin to notice many graphite caterpillars. In Dave Bassine’s untitled drawing, I take

the liberty of seeing a handful of charcoal tapeworms, mouths open, body segments collapsing into each other.

In Livingston’s acidic “Worms,” large ones lounge around in their striped pink sweaters, suspended in white space. After all, if a line were given a heart and a few gastrointestinal necessities, wouldn’t it most closely resemble those striated critters?

BREATHE IN THE OLD PAGES, RUN YOUR FINGERS ALONG LEATHERBOUND VOLUMES, BASK IN GOLDEN SUNLIGHT AND LINGER AMONG WORDS. The rest of the pieces have more disciplined worms, lines that have arranged themselves obediently into shapes.

Indeed, the nature-oriented works find lines as they appear in the world, like gentle Euclidean fingerprints in the ground. Lenny Moscowitz’s “Landscape Study” features chunky blobs that subside and uplift into hills, and, in Joan Backes’ “Berlin Series,” ragged gray bands recall magnetic anomalies on the ocean seafloor.

In Rick Shaefer’s stunningly rendered “Sugar Maple,” old men’s wrinkles emerge out of inked bark. Kelly Schmidt’s “Bones” is a micro-exhibit of small skeletal bits; I thought I saw a pelvic bone, some vertebrae and a lone hollow scapula.

The portraits and more comprehensive, detailed challenged the primacy of the stroke. Caught up in the whole, I lost sight of the fundamental unit — I could see automobiles, or freckled faces, but the crosshatches were swallowed up by complex layers. I longed

for the simple fullness of “Blind Contours of a Lily,” a stunning work that fleshes out petals with black continuous lines.

“Luce Drawing II,” halfway through, made me smile. Pondering, I thought I recognized the outline of a mug with a teabag inside, but I couldn’t be sure.

The lines were endearingly crooked, and I was reminded of that favorite children’s activity of “draween” — grabbing pencils in fistfuls and making skirts from triangles and heads from circles and sometimes not drawing the ears or nose because they were blocky.

On an upside-down table at the entrance to the exhibit, there’s a clean, bound guestbook. Inside are yet more lines, wriggling circles, fluid script strokes and straight-angled bends: everyone with their idiosyncratic signature. Downstairs, in a large filing cabinet, there are other autographs, thousands of index cards listing the library’s book collection in a neat, disciplined hand. I remark that the writing looks like calligraphy, thick lines and carefully inked forms. Chelsea, a volunteer with a recent master’s in library science, tells me that there used to be a font for cataloging collections: “Library Hand,” for uniformity in documents.

Over the phone on Wednesday afternoon, Mr. Kobasa tells me, “In our culture, people don’t like to be called on to put imagination to work; they want the blanks filled in.” We demand high definition in pixels; books will soon be enhanced with multimedia.

But the Institute Library and this exhibition both stand in defense of the line.

Chapbooks and sketches, the Library Hand font and the charcoal silhouette — the white-and-black spaces that our minds color with thoughts.

Contact DALIA WOLFSON at dalia.wolfson@yale.edu .

A Warm Welcome, in Pictures // BY THERESA STEINMEYER When the Beinecke security guard points me toward the “Power of Pictures” exhibit, I give him a big smile and my thanks, and then take off enthusiastically — in the wrong direction. I’m a rare visitor in this library, and it shows. Luckily, the security guard seems used to newcomers, and when I freeze, turn around and walk guiltily past his desk to the other side of the building, he just smiles.

“Power of Pictures” is the last of three full-building exhibitions to commemorate the Beinecke Rare Book and Manuscript Library’s 50th anniversary. It celebrates of the breadth and depth of the Beinecke’s collection. And, in the space where we are used to find text, it features images from countless corners of the library’s archives.

To that end, a plethora of paintings, drawings and photographs have been displayed throughout the building.

A presentation this ambitious could easily overwhelm, and I’ll admit that this is how I felt when I found that the information booklet had a spine. But once tamed by the Beinecke curators, the exhibit is a creature of the large and friendly sort.

Images are clustered by broad themes that trace more than a dozen aspects of human experience. From the first theme, “Marking Places,” I realize that the Beinecke will do this beautifully. “Marking Places” follows the importance of locations in the human narrative, spanning from a photograph of Utah cave drawings to Saul Steinberg’s preliminary sketch for a 1976 New Yorker cover, “A View of the World from 9th Avenue.” This slice captures only a small sample of the variety this archive has to offer, but it does so with cohesion.

The Beinecke has found a place for everything, be it in “Domestic Scenes,“ “Scientific Illustration” or “Marking Our Bodies.”

The exhibit attempts to generate fresh enthusiasm for the Beinecke’s collection, and it succeeds, hands-down. For art fiends and lost freshmen alike, “Power of Pictures” offers something unexpected.

S U N D AY OCTOBER 20

I would never have guessed that the Beinecke owns an illustrated copy of “Uncle Tom’s Cabin,” the sketches of a Metropolitan Opera costume designer or a watercolor painting of American ships descending on a Japanese harbor in 1854.

I’m surprised to learn that an 1882 lithograph of the Grand Canyon is in fact a scientific drawing by Yale-trained geologist Clarence Dutton. He wanted to capture the rock detail in a way that cameras then could not. Other images are rewarding for their visual force alone, such as David Plowden’s breathtaking photograph of the “Statue of Liberty from Caven Point Road.”

The photograph stashes the iconic symbol of American freedom behind a haze of fog, telephone poles and debris, making an uncomfortable statement about the United States’ neglect of its values and heritage.

Almost as critical to the exhibit as the images themselves is the grace with which “Power of Pictures” harnesses the mystique of the Beinecke building. Pieces are displayed in glass cases on the ground floor and around the Mezzanine level, guiding visitors around and up Yale’s architectural landmark. Larger pieces hang from the tower walls, almost ghostlike beneath the soft lighting, tempting the observer to consider what else sits in the archives behind the glass. The Beinecke utilizes its own space with confidence, and visiting “Power of Pictures” for the self-guided walking tour alone is worth it.

Most importantly, “Power of Pictures” wants to make us feel welcome at the Beinecke. It calls visitors old and new to embrace the resources of that the library has to offer, and to realize that it holds more than dusty manuscripts. It reminds us that we should not be afraid to be newcomers. This fall, “Power of Pictures” calls us to be just that — to find a place to start, and then to come back, again and again.

Contact THERESA STEINMEYER at theresa.steinmeyer@yale.edu .

SHEETS OF SOUND

Whitney Humanities Center // 2:00 p.m.

New music for saxophone from Yale’s undergraduate composer’s collective.

// WIKIMEDIA

WEEKEND RECOMMENDS: Researching a Halloween costume

Miley Cyrus, Foxes, Boehner — the obvious choices are already taken.

YALE DAILY NEWS · FRIDAY, OCTOBER 18, 2013 · yaledailynews.com

PAGE B5

WEEKEND FEATURE

THE OTHER WAY TO LEARN // BY MAYA AVERBUCH

The Thiel Fellowship application opens with a challenge: “tell us how you would like to change the world.”

The wording may sound bombastic, but the Thiel Foundation is not playing games. $100,000, and the chance to devote two years to an independent project, is at stake. Applicants must write two sentences to answer each of the following: what do you want to accomplish in the next 10 years? Two years? Three months? The punchline: in order to apply, they must not have reached their 20th birthdays.

Some students arrive straight out of high school, while others put their college studies on hold. In most cases, the winners board a plane to San Francisco and quickly immerse themselves in its culture of entrepreneurship.

When the Thiel Fellowship began in 2010, founder Peter Thiel caused a stir for his denunciation of the traditional educational system. “So many students are not getting the jobs they need to repay their debts, are moving back in with their parents, and the contract both signed up for is being revealed as false,” he told The American Interest magazine. Best known as the cofounder of PayPal and Facebook’s first investor, Thiel is a selfmade billionaire who has started more companies than most people would dare to dream of. Though he followed a standard high-power educational path, with two degrees from Stanford University, the mounting college debt phenomenon and the lack of innovation outside the computer technology industry prompted him to advocate for an alternative model.

Yale has seen four students drop out to become Thiel Fellows. Selected from a pool of more than 400 applicants, all were part of the initial 2011 class of fellows. Their work demonstrates the possibilities of the alternative career path the fellowship promotes: Daniel Friedman started an online school for web development, Paul Gu designed an online platform for investing in people, Darren Zhu created a software to help diagnose cancer and David Luan ’13 has worked on improving robots’ understanding of their environments. All of them saw their Thiel funding run out this past summer. And while Luan reenrolled at Yale and graduated last spring, it does not look like the other fellows will be returning to college any time soon.

THE DECISION TO DROP

Those who press “submit” on the application are a self-selecting group.

As any of the Yale fellows will tell you, independence and an inexhaustible drive are virtual prerequisites.

For Gu, who learned of the fellowship through an online article, applying meant reconsidering the Wall Street finance job he had been on track to do for years. “I knew I wanted to try becoming an entrepreneur. This was the least risky way to do that,” he said.

He realized the $100,000 would give him the chance to kick around ideas, and to make mistakes without the fear of ending up broke.

Gu’s computer programmer parents were not thrilled by his choice,

but in many ways it was a calculated one: in Gu’s words, the start-up world offers a “level of success that’s unreachable in any other industry” — both financially and in terms of visible impact on the world. Indeed, after the high-profile success of Mark Zuckerberg and Bill Gates, what Gu termed the “post-Facebook generation” is increasingly populated by people who envision themselves changing the world while lounging around Silicon Valley.

It was on a plane from New York to Silicon Valley that Thiel and his coworkers first developed the idea to start a fellowship to encourage scientific and technological innovation.

Looking around the San Francisco Bay Area, it was clear that people could rise to the top of the tech world without college degrees. With national college debt totaling over a trillion dollars (more than national credit card debt, according to Thiel Foundation President Jonathan Cain) the value of higher education is now up for discussion. “We wanted to reach promising young people before they become so locked into one particular path in their education or in their career,” Cain said. “Some ideas exist within a moment of time, and if you don’t act on them at the right moment, you may lose that opportunity.”

IN THE START-UP WORLD, THE RULES WERE LESS CLEAR. For some students, project proposals may not be fully formed, but the drive to see what they can create is enough of a motivator. Zhu, who was on track to study chemistry or molecular biology, wanted to break away from a structured academic environment in order to explore how scientific advancements can translate into real technologies. He already had extensive laboratory research experience, so “it was a good time for me to jump out and see the other side,” he said.

Breaking away from Yale was by no means a small decision, but Zhu, Gu and Friedman — the three Yale fellows interviewed — were ready by the time decisions came in. On the Friday they received the calls, Zhu was on the balcony of Harkness Tower, having just completed his weekly carillon ring.

Gu and Friedman were both in the “Zoo,” Yale’s computer science lab. Gu wrote in an email, “We pretty much jumped into the air to chest-bump and promptly dropped our phones with the Thiel Foundation still on the line.”

THE ROUGH START

Though the entire pool of Thiel winners includes one entrepreneur who formed a company at 12 and a techie who worked at MIT labs at 13, most f e l -

!"#$%&'()*% +'(%*'%&,$"% -.//0///1

lows arrive with a less clear sense of the professional world. Some floundering is inevitable. As Gu recalled: “I spent the first six months drifting from idea to idea.” Though the Thiel Foundation provides fellows with an extensive network of mentors — who advise them on everything from intellectual property to employee recruitment — the program is largely handsoff. “Most types of challenges that I dealt with up to that point of my life had been a challenge within the confines of a very specific system,” Gu noted. In the start-up world, the rules were less clear.

While Gu acknowledged that he had not been prepared to become a working professional, he said two more years of theoretical training in university would have made no a difference.

“One thing that’s really valuable in a liberal arts setting is learning to think critically…but you can also learn that on the job,” said Zhu, who spent the beginning of his first fellowship year working on a robotics project with Luan. He explained that a job forces you to always ask: what is the best way to achieve a given task?

Sometimes, however, students are lacking in more technical abilities. Friedman spent a few months at a venture capitalist firm in New York before shifting to a product development studio in order to “slow down and spend a bit of time building skills,” he said. He taught himself how to code on the job, and it’s the pressures of a work environment that pushed him to do so. In practice, he said, you learn through time constraints: “a deadline, a real person evaluating your work.”

Looming over their heads was the possibility of failure — with a $100,000 safety net. According to Gu, eliminating the financial risk allowed them to undertake endeavors they might never have otherwise.

OFF THE GROUND

Zhu used Craigslist to find the cheap, four-bedroom house he and seven other Thiel Fellows shared during their first year in California.

While celebrating move-in day with a game of midnight street soccer, they befriended the men parked outside: Steve Jobs’s security guards. In fact, they discovered that the Apple tycoon lived down the block, and Google cofounder Larry Page was just around the corner.

But Zhu is quick to stress that the start-up life is not all movies chalk it up to be. It is “highly volatile and incredibly uncertain,” he said in an e-mail. When the pharmaceutical industry began to cut funding for research and development, the lack of capital made Zhu’s original robotics project untenable. Instead, he turned to research on microorganisms, with the goal of improving diagnostic methods. The switch involved nothing short of building his own lab with an additional grant from the Bill and Melinda Gates Foundation. He had to be resourceful, finding an industrial workspace and picking up resources from liquidated companies. But as he ran into additional roadblocks, he shifted his focus to software. Progress has been fast: he has already developed a tool to detect malignant cancer cells in tissue sample.

Friedman and Gu have both caught on to the Thiel tenet that human capital is important. After meeting his co-founder, Darrell Silver, Friedman

joked they spent a few months “dating,” figuring out whether they had similar goals and compatible skill sets.

The website they eventually created, Thinkful, was inspired by his own experience learning to code. Paying customers can sign up for web development classes, through which they are guided by a personal mentor.

Thinkful transitioned from a little-known start-up to a full-fledged online education program in little more than a day. A month after it opened its virtual doors to a handful of new students, Friedman and Silver read that Citibank was laying off over 10,000 people. Within four hours, the team offered a free class to former Citi employees, and an hour later news of the opportunity was at the top of the Hacker News web page. TechCrunch, a prominent news source, published an article about it at midnight that same day. “Darrell and I were still at the office when the TechCrunch story ran, watching our real-time analytics as more people signed up than had been on our site in history,” Friedman wrote in an e-mail.

He is surprised by how quickly the online education system became a success. “A year ago, we were two guys in a room with no students,” Friedman said. Now, his company has a 60-person mentor team and has serviced over 500 people. Thinkful became the first Thiel Fellow company in which Thiel would invest.

Friedman is not the only one who has seen large sums rolling in. To date, Gu’s company, Upstart, has garnered $7.8 million in venture capital, with the help of Thiel’s company and others. Investors pledge financial support to people based on their online profiles, and in return they receive a percentage of each person’s future income. Like the Thiel Fellowship, the system allows people to take risks without accumulating crippling debt.

So far, a little over 100 people have raised over 200 million dollars through his program. Gu himself ended up with $25,000 after creating a profile in which a smiling photo of him seated in front of a garage door is accompanied by the statement, “I’m looking to build products that make clever use of numbers to improve the world.” Though his main resume points are impressive, his profile’s tone is casual. He describes his tumultuous early childhood after moving from China, and notes in the quick facts section that “a side-goal of mine is to publish an essay on moral philosophy.” Behind it all is another calculation: in Gu’s

book, exchanging a small percent of his future income for cash today is just good economics.

THE EDUCATION MODEL

Though college degrees still factor into success, as well-demonstrated by their inclusion in Gu’s projectedincome calculator, Cain suggests that learning models are going to look very different just ten years down the road. Though the Thiel Fellowship only helps a handful of people each year, that has translated into the creation of over 50 companies and — after much publicity — started a conversation about the pitfalls of traditional career paths. Both Cain and the fellows admitted that the fellowships are not for everyone, but there’s a glamour that comes from entering the start-up world, especially if you’re under 20 years old. The appeal is multiplied by the young office vibe that Paul captured when he said that work and play no longer exist in distinct spaces; his coworkers are his roommates, so they occasionally play beer pong in the office and often discuss business at home. While the fellows’ former classmates were deciding a major, they were analyzing real-world data sets.

Apprenticeships have been around for centuries, but they are now being adapted to the digital age — in ways that are beneficial for young people. In the start-up world, “there’s not a lot of pre-set hierarchy or as much existing bias. It’s much more meritocratic, in that people can prove how much value they can add,” Gu said.

Though Friedman suggested that Yale, and other elite institutions, would always be safe, it is hard to say whether the university will support an increasingly outdated model of education. Alena Gribskov, the program director of the Yale Entrepreneurial Institute, pointed out that there is an important place for entrepreneurship on campus. The increasingly popular academic-year Venture Creation Program and summer fellowships allow students who do not have $100,000 to test out their ideas before taking the risk of working on them full-time.

For Cain, the Thiel Foundation’s work is ultimately not about institutions of learning, but about the students they aim to help. “Blindly doing what society tells you works even more poorly than it did before,” he said. “It’s important to think clearly and rigorously about what you want in life.”

Contact MAYA AVERBUCH at maya.averbuch@yale.edu.

A B

M O N D AY OCTOBER 21

C

SUWON CIVIC CHOIR OF SOUTH KOREA Battell Chapel // 7:30 - 9:30 p.m.

Presented by the Yale Glee Club. It comes with a lecture on “Korean Choral Music.”

WEEKEND RECOMMENDS: Tables in Bass near outlets

Competition is fierce until the beginning of fall break.

PAGE B6

YALE DAILY NEWS · FRIDAY, OCTOBER 18, 2013 · yaledailynews.com

PAGE B7

WEEKEND FESTIVITIES

Yale Does Diwali

YOU’RE INVITED!

// BY LEAH MOTZKIN I’m going to preface this one by saying I was that girl in high school. And by “that girl,” I obviously mean the one who pushed for “Bollywood” to be my school’s prom theme every year. My dream date is Hrithik Roshan and all of the songs played would have to be from “Khabi Kushi Kabi Gam.” Needless to say, I was in the minority, and I sucked it up to have fun in “Fire and Ice”- or “Midsummer Night’s Dream”themed spaces. But I am still waiting to whip out the sari my best friend from high school bought me on Devon Avenue. And you know what is coming up next month? Diwali.

Maybe you celebrate Diwali at home, maybe you came to Yale for exposure to different cultures, or maybe you don’t know what I’m talking about. For the last groups, Diwali is the five-day Hindu “festival of lights.” For all groups, let us get together for a marathon of partying and drinking Taj Mahals (or a mango lassi — but remember, you must be 21 to consume alcohol in the State of Connecticut).

Each day, the quality of dancing would get better and better as the student body gets to know

the traditional dances. People would stop just “screwing in the light bulb and petting the dog” and begin to engage in a complex interweaving reminiscent of that scene in “Pride and Prejudice” with Keira Knightly, and also I guess that scene in “Bride and Prejudice.”

Each Indian restaurant would cater a different day. This way, students can finally end the classic Thali Too vs. Zaroka debate, and those other Indian restaurants near Chapel and Howe could get their names on the map so that Indian-ophiles like me would remember them, unlike now.

As a New York City ad campaign has recently taught me, “We’re a culture, not a costume,” so I want everyone to know I mean this with absolutely no pretense whatsoever. I would love it if the Yale community could come together to learn more about the importance of this holiday, giving those who celebrate at home a chance to share it with their friends. I am sure something like this happens (hi, invite me), but Yale has never seen it like this.

Contact LEAH MOTZKIN at leah.motzkin@yale.edu .

L

ast Saturday’s Inaugural Ball proved that Yale knows how to get down (and keep it supremely classy while doing so). We at WEEKEND, from what we can remember, had a glorious time, and now are desperate to know: in light of the ball’s inevitable passing, what event will step up to claim the title of Yale’s Next Best Dance?

Disney, College Style // BY HELEN ROUNER Throwing a Disney sing-along dance is like providing condoms in entryways: the University knows an event is imminent and so might as well provide the resources for it to happen safely. Now that Safety Dance has been cancelled, Yale no longer oversees the inevitable girls’ wearing spandex and neon — Dean Gentry has delegated that responsibility to Toad’s. Now, rather than being offensive on grounds of public decency, the outfits at Yale’s biggest dance risk offending the politically correct partygoer: every vaguely Indian, Middle Eastern, or Hispanic-looking girl comes dressed as Pocahontas.

When they first walk in, partygoers take turn posing with Woody and

Buzz cutouts (so they can advertise who their best friends are posting the photos on Facebook in case they’ve already used the “‘23 things best friends do’ Buzzfeed link on the wall” move). The music first starts up with selections from “The Little Mermaid.” When “Part of Your World” comes on, collective euphoria overwhelms the mob, which has already formed a ring around the dance floor. “Bright young women, sick of swimmin’: ready to stand!” prompts especially dramatic pull-your-fistsinto-your-chest gesturing. Next is the “Circle of Life” moment, and some guy raises up a bottle of Bacardi like it’s baby Simba.

The staff behind the “Lady and the

Tramp”-themed spaghetti counter look the other way. When the DJ — who pretends never to have seen Disney movies because of their mainstream appeal — plays “Mulan,” a number of kids shuffle out: they’ve sung the first two lines of “Let’s Get Down to Business” so enthusiastically that it’s too embarrassing for them to stick around mumbling the rest of the lyrics. The end of the night leaves a very drunk circle of die-hard fans with their arms around one another, swaying, singing, “You’ve got a friend in me.”

“This is just like my bar mitzfah!” one kid exclaims.

Show Some Skin, 18th Century Style

A Seminar-Themed Affair

// BY CAROL LEE

// BY DAVID WHIPPLE Dances are festive, inebriated affairs, free of Yale’s social mores like “stressing out,” “walking upright” and “being able to identify the gender of the person you are making out with.” Yes indeed, dances are a blast. You look forward to them all year and show up ready to impress. Then there’s a stampede at the door as everyone tries to get in, and your outfit that you thought was just SO cute is nothing compared to the next girl’s. You finally enter, and it turns out that it’s kinda the same as all the other dances: people who think they can dance, people getting sloppy, the music sucks, and despite this all your friends are apparently having the time of their lives. Plus, get ready for the hangover. And you didn’t even get any action. So that’s dances.

Seminars are sober and academic,

where we go to interact meaningfully with our peers and use words like “problematic” and “dialectic.” The best seminars are among the best moments of your college career. You look forward to them from the moment you spot one in your Blue Book, and you show up ready to do all the reading and contribute meaningfully. Then you get there and there are 35 people trying for 18 spots and people are forced to sit on each other’s laps in LC 213 and the comment you made wilts compared to the next girl’s.

But you stick it out and get in off the waitlist only to find out that it’s pretty similar to the seminar you took last year: intolerably self-important assholes, no one does the reading, the professor is a bore, and despite this everyone else talks about how much they love him. Just wait until the

final paper. And you didn’t even get any action. So that’s dances. Wait, I mean, so that’s seminars.

Crowds, disappointment, redundancy, sexual frustration: Dances and seminars are exactly the same.

In light of this I propose a seminarthemed dance. Or perhaps a dancethemed seminar; who can tell the difference? In any case, applications would be due by 8 p.m. on Wednesday, Aug. 28. A short statement of interest/whether or not you’re DTF is required. Some may require a twerking sample of no more than 500 words. Preference to majors and people wearing neon spandex.

Contact DAVID WHIPPLE at david.whipple@yale.edu .

This is the start of a long, long journey upwards. The Inaugural Ball, in truth, was simply an enjoyable, glorified club night, and just the beginning of centuries of smashing parties and classy balls at Yale. Since Yale obviously has no qualms against hosting Woad’s (of sorts) straight on campus (no need for the stumble to Toad’s and back), I say we kill the restraints.

The Inaugural Ball was all fun and games, but if we can’t match spirit of Toad’s, I say we’ve failed.

We want Toad’s Place with a flourish of Bulldog spirit and a veneer of class.

What ungrateful, wretched children are we if we do not celebrate the founding of our glorious university? It’s October 9th and the night is young. Women, grit your teeth and flatten that tummy as your suitemate yanks relentlessly on those corset strings. Curl your hair, don your gown, your petticoat and your slippers. Embellish with ruffles.

Men, pull on your stockings, breeches and your buckled shoes.

Wear your knee-length coat over

your waistcoat. Place that colonial hat on your head. Be not shy because this is the Founder’s Day Ball: annual, socially mandatory and shameless.

There shan’t be any more heels sinking into the soft grass. No more tripping over the cracks on the paths of Old Campus. No more strange ambient lighting underneath a colossal tent where the strobe lights fade into the thick air. This one’s going to be at Commons, where the black lights shine blue and the strobe lights pulse and the dirty beat drops.

We tip our hats to the founders with our swanky garb, but this one’s for the rebels. It’s for the card-playing, tavern-hopping, skirt-chasing, rule-breaking sons of the elite back in the day.

So don’t be afraid to flash a little ankle to get the boys’ hearts racing. Feel free to shimmy up to that girl with the nice ruffles. Boola boola, Bulldogs. Happy Founder’s Day – we keep it classy at Yale.

Contact CAROL LEE at carol.lee@yale.edu .

Contact HELEN ROUNER at helen.rouner@yale.edu .

// KATE MCMILLAN

T U E S D AY OCTOBER 22

TAKEOFF

WEEKEND RECOMMENDS:

JFK, Bradley, LaGuardia // Boarding time Later, betches. Flying to the meadow.

Ostrich Pillows

It’s a Snuggie for your head, and you just don’t care anymore.

W E D N E S D AY

LAW & ORDER: SVU MARATHON

OCTOBER 13

Because Olivia Benson just understands your feels.

Your bed // Can’t stop, won’t stop

WEEKEND RECOMMENDS: Adhering to REM cycles

Sleep sleep sleep sleep sleep sleep sleep sleep sleep sleep.

PAGE B6

YALE DAILY NEWS · FRIDAY, OCTOBER 18, 2013 · yaledailynews.com

PAGE B7

WEEKEND FESTIVITIES

Yale Does Diwali

YOU’RE INVITED!

// BY LEAH MOTZKIN I’m going to preface this one by saying I was that girl in high school. And by “that girl,” I obviously mean the one who pushed for “Bollywood” to be my school’s prom theme every year. My dream date is Hrithik Roshan and all of the songs played would have to be from “Khabi Kushi Kabi Gam.” Needless to say, I was in the minority, and I sucked it up to have fun in “Fire and Ice”- or “Midsummer Night’s Dream”themed spaces. But I am still waiting to whip out the sari my best friend from high school bought me on Devon Avenue. And you know what is coming up next month? Diwali.

Maybe you celebrate Diwali at home, maybe you came to Yale for exposure to different cultures, or maybe you don’t know what I’m talking about. For the last groups, Diwali is the five-day Hindu “festival of lights.” For all groups, let us get together for a marathon of partying and drinking Taj Mahals (or a mango lassi — but remember, you must be 21 to consume alcohol in the State of Connecticut).

Each day, the quality of dancing would get better and better as the student body gets to know

the traditional dances. People would stop just “screwing in the light bulb and petting the dog” and begin to engage in a complex interweaving reminiscent of that scene in “Pride and Prejudice” with Keira Knightly, and also I guess that scene in “Bride and Prejudice.”

Each Indian restaurant would cater a different day. This way, students can finally end the classic Thali Too vs. Zaroka debate, and those other Indian restaurants near Chapel and Howe could get their names on the map so that Indian-ophiles like me would remember them, unlike now.

As a New York City ad campaign has recently taught me, “We’re a culture, not a costume,” so I want everyone to know I mean this with absolutely no pretense whatsoever. I would love it if the Yale community could come together to learn more about the importance of this holiday, giving those who celebrate at home a chance to share it with their friends. I am sure something like this happens (hi, invite me), but Yale has never seen it like this.

Contact LEAH MOTZKIN at leah.motzkin@yale.edu .

L

ast Saturday’s Inaugural Ball proved that Yale knows how to get down (and keep it supremely classy while doing so). We at WEEKEND, from what we can remember, had a glorious time, and now are desperate to know: in light of the ball’s inevitable passing, what event will step up to claim the title of Yale’s Next Best Dance?

Disney, College Style // BY HELEN ROUNER Throwing a Disney sing-along dance is like providing condoms in entryways: the University knows an event is imminent and so might as well provide the resources for it to happen safely. Now that Safety Dance has been cancelled, Yale no longer oversees the inevitable girls’ wearing spandex and neon — Dean Gentry has delegated that responsibility to Toad’s. Now, rather than being offensive on grounds of public decency, the outfits at Yale’s biggest dance risk offending the politically correct partygoer: every vaguely Indian, Middle Eastern, or Hispanic-looking girl comes dressed as Pocahontas.

When they first walk in, partygoers take turn posing with Woody and

Buzz cutouts (so they can advertise who their best friends are posting the photos on Facebook in case they’ve already used the “‘23 things best friends do’ Buzzfeed link on the wall” move). The music first starts up with selections from “The Little Mermaid.” When “Part of Your World” comes on, collective euphoria overwhelms the mob, which has already formed a ring around the dance floor. “Bright young women, sick of swimmin’: ready to stand!” prompts especially dramatic pull-your-fistsinto-your-chest gesturing. Next is the “Circle of Life” moment, and some guy raises up a bottle of Bacardi like it’s baby Simba.

The staff behind the “Lady and the

Tramp”-themed spaghetti counter look the other way. When the DJ — who pretends never to have seen Disney movies because of their mainstream appeal — plays “Mulan,” a number of kids shuffle out: they’ve sung the first two lines of “Let’s Get Down to Business” so enthusiastically that it’s too embarrassing for them to stick around mumbling the rest of the lyrics. The end of the night leaves a very drunk circle of die-hard fans with their arms around one another, swaying, singing, “You’ve got a friend in me.”

“This is just like my bar mitzfah!” one kid exclaims.

Show Some Skin, 18th Century Style

A Seminar-Themed Affair

// BY CAROL LEE

// BY DAVID WHIPPLE Dances are festive, inebriated affairs, free of Yale’s social mores like “stressing out,” “walking upright” and “being able to identify the gender of the person you are making out with.” Yes indeed, dances are a blast. You look forward to them all year and show up ready to impress. Then there’s a stampede at the door as everyone tries to get in, and your outfit that you thought was just SO cute is nothing compared to the next girl’s. You finally enter, and it turns out that it’s kinda the same as all the other dances: people who think they can dance, people getting sloppy, the music sucks, and despite this all your friends are apparently having the time of their lives. Plus, get ready for the hangover. And you didn’t even get any action. So that’s dances.

Seminars are sober and academic,

where we go to interact meaningfully with our peers and use words like “problematic” and “dialectic.” The best seminars are among the best moments of your college career. You look forward to them from the moment you spot one in your Blue Book, and you show up ready to do all the reading and contribute meaningfully. Then you get there and there are 35 people trying for 18 spots and people are forced to sit on each other’s laps in LC 213 and the comment you made wilts compared to the next girl’s.

But you stick it out and get in off the waitlist only to find out that it’s pretty similar to the seminar you took last year: intolerably self-important assholes, no one does the reading, the professor is a bore, and despite this everyone else talks about how much they love him. Just wait until the

final paper. And you didn’t even get any action. So that’s dances. Wait, I mean, so that’s seminars.

Crowds, disappointment, redundancy, sexual frustration: Dances and seminars are exactly the same.

In light of this I propose a seminarthemed dance. Or perhaps a dancethemed seminar; who can tell the difference? In any case, applications would be due by 8 p.m. on Wednesday, Aug. 28. A short statement of interest/whether or not you’re DTF is required. Some may require a twerking sample of no more than 500 words. Preference to majors and people wearing neon spandex.

Contact DAVID WHIPPLE at david.whipple@yale.edu .

This is the start of a long, long journey upwards. The Inaugural Ball, in truth, was simply an enjoyable, glorified club night, and just the beginning of centuries of smashing parties and classy balls at Yale. Since Yale obviously has no qualms against hosting Woad’s (of sorts) straight on campus (no need for the stumble to Toad’s and back), I say we kill the restraints.

The Inaugural Ball was all fun and games, but if we can’t match spirit of Toad’s, I say we’ve failed.

We want Toad’s Place with a flourish of Bulldog spirit and a veneer of class.

What ungrateful, wretched children are we if we do not celebrate the founding of our glorious university? It’s October 9th and the night is young. Women, grit your teeth and flatten that tummy as your suitemate yanks relentlessly on those corset strings. Curl your hair, don your gown, your petticoat and your slippers. Embellish with ruffles.

Men, pull on your stockings, breeches and your buckled shoes.

Wear your knee-length coat over

your waistcoat. Place that colonial hat on your head. Be not shy because this is the Founder’s Day Ball: annual, socially mandatory and shameless.

There shan’t be any more heels sinking into the soft grass. No more tripping over the cracks on the paths of Old Campus. No more strange ambient lighting underneath a colossal tent where the strobe lights fade into the thick air. This one’s going to be at Commons, where the black lights shine blue and the strobe lights pulse and the dirty beat drops.

We tip our hats to the founders with our swanky garb, but this one’s for the rebels. It’s for the card-playing, tavern-hopping, skirt-chasing, rule-breaking sons of the elite back in the day.

So don’t be afraid to flash a little ankle to get the boys’ hearts racing. Feel free to shimmy up to that girl with the nice ruffles. Boola boola, Bulldogs. Happy Founder’s Day – we keep it classy at Yale.

Contact CAROL LEE at carol.lee@yale.edu .

Contact HELEN ROUNER at helen.rouner@yale.edu .

// KATE MCMILLAN

T U E S D AY OCTOBER 22

TAKEOFF

WEEKEND RECOMMENDS:

JFK, Bradley, LaGuardia // Boarding time Later, betches. Flying to the meadow.

Ostrich Pillows

It’s a Snuggie for your head, and you just don’t care anymore.

W E D N E S D AY

LAW & ORDER: SVU MARATHON

OCTOBER 13

Because Olivia Benson just understands your feels.

Your bed // Can’t stop, won’t stop

WEEKEND RECOMMENDS: Adhering to REM cycles

Sleep sleep sleep sleep sleep sleep sleep sleep sleep sleep.

PAGE B8

YALE DAILY NEWS · FRIDAY, OCTOBER 18, 2013 · yaledailynews.com

WEEKEND COVER

WHAT A YALIE WANTS

// ANNELISA LEINBACH

MONOGAMY FROM PAGE 3 more academic and extracurricular work. “I had a constant support system,” she said, referring to how she and Larson would help each other with errands and give each other general emotional support.

Johnson points to the same pattern of a relationship benefitting his work life. “Watching a movie in your suite takes up less time than going to a party. And you can wake up the next morning and actually work because you’re not hung over.”

He added that any time that would have been spent finding someone to hook up with on a Friday or Saturday night is more time to crank work out.

“If you can just hook up with someone on a Tuesday night,” he laughs, “you’re actually working on a more regular schedule.”

Larson and Thondavadi agreed that students who do not engage in relationships have not found anyone they consider to be worth the time and attention. His lanky frame filling one of the few comfortable chairs in Bass Cafe, he arrives at a conclusion he intones as self-evident.

“If you’re not willing to put in the time, it’s probably a sign that you’re not that interested,” he said. *** But not everyone is looking to find a soulmate within the walls of the Ivy League. While the hookup culture may not be as pervasive as die-hard skeptics have suggested, according to some it remains an inescapable part of the Yale social scene. And though a large number of students feel the desire for a monogamous relationship, a great many are not planning to be in one during their undergraduate years.

Raisa Bruner ’13, in her WEEKEND piece “#SWUGNATION” from earlier this year, defined the culture of Senior Washed Up Girls, a subset of Yale women who had essentially “given up” on college romance. By the time she went to her last party in the Elm City, Bruner was no longer the eager, idealistic freshman who dressed up for every outing in hopes

of finding a special someone. Now, as she looks back on her undergraduate experience, she is happy to have lived the single life during her time at Yale.

“At the end of the day, I don’t have any regrets,” she reflected. “Learning to depend on yourself is an incredibly valuable lesson.”

Based on 638 anonymous responses from across the student body, there was no hostile opposition toward the idea of monogamous relationships. But individually, many students preferred having the romantic and sexual freedom monogamy inherently lacks. And in a school that forces one to choose between thousands of classes and more extracurriculars than Payne Whitney can house, this seems to make sense — why should students feel pressured to commit in yet another aspect of their undergraduate experience?

One student who felt particularly liberated said, “I like to sleep around like a free spirit or a Swiffer free sweeper.”

To be fair, most students in the survey did not compare their sexual habits to the motion of a cleaning device, but many still felt that their peers were not worth their complete and undivided romantic attention.

Bruner attributes this to the seemingly unlimited potential romantic partners to be found in Ivy League institutions: Ultimately, she says, “What if there’s something better around the corner?”

Even some of the strongest couples interviewed empathized with the appeal of the hookup culture.

Though he has been in the same relationship before he even encountered his first Old Campus squirrel as a freshman, Derwin Aikens ’15 said he perfectly understands the “college mentality:” the belief that, for every student, no lip should go unkissed and no party left unattended. Having thought at length about what life would be like engaging in this experience, Aikens concluded that he does not think one lifestyle is better than the other, only that he prefers being with his boyfriend, John

Are you currently in a monogamous romantic relationship?

Do you think you will find your future spouse at Yale?

How much do you want to be in a relationship at Yale?

T H U R S D AY OCTOBER 24

0% 0% 1

I do not want to be in a relationship

GERMAN SPIELENACHMITTAG WLH 309 // 4:30 p.m.

Get gehockt und bereit for “literally the gaming afternoon.”

Shively ’15, at the end of each day.

Aikens and other couples interviewed are quick to note, however, that even given the supposed pervasiveness of the Yale hookup culture, the ability to find something more serious still remains. Similarly, for Bruner, the perceived lack of monogamy at Yale indicates not that the culture lectures against it, but that most people simply aren’t interested.

IF THERE ISN’T A STIGMA AROUND BEING IN A RELATIONSHIP, THERE MAY BE ONE AROUND LOOKING FOR ONE. “A lot of the time,” she says simply, “people in college just aren’t looking for their life partners.” *** Despite the talk about and perception of one dominant “culture” at Yale, the numbers tell another story. According to a survey sent to the entire undergraduate population, the mere notion that monogamy is stigmatized at Yale, and that the majority of students are wholly uninterested, is largely false. Ultimately, many students are lamenting a perception — that the hookup culture is the only option for romance at Yale — in the face of a drastically different reality.

With a response rate of approximately 12 percent (638 out of some 5,400 students), and a 45–55 male to female ratio, 86 percent of students said they had enough time to be in a monogamous relationship, or could find the time if they found the right person. 67 percent said they believed other students are looking for romantic relationships. And on a scale of 1 to 5, with 1 indicating no interest in a monogamous relationship and 5 a strong desire to be

in one, students settled in at 3.59 — not fiercely determined to be in one, but also not completely uninterested in the manner that Rosin and Taylor convey.

For those who are keen on drawing the distinction between female and male interest (and it seems that many are — one respondent sounded off that “Men here are blind idiots”), it turns out that while the difference exists, it’s not statistically significant. The average interest in a serious relationship for girls is 3.70 and the average interest for boys 3.51 — not exactly an echoing and cavernous gap.

The perception that these relationships are stigmatized at Yale seems similarly detached from reality. Seventy-five percent of respondents said any stigma surrounding relationships is entirely nonexistent.

But respondents’ comments indicate that if there isn’t a stigma around being in a relationship, there may be one around looking for one. “[S]aying that you really want a relationship is seen as saying that you are not comfortable with yourself,” wrote one respondent. Another saw the difference as gendered. “I … get the sense that female students looking for relationships are considered ‘desperate’ … somehow pathetic or unfeminist, but men who want relationships are somehow sweet and mature.”

Another opined that it’s much more difficult to be in a monogamous relationship in the gay community. “There is an annoying pushback among gay culture at Yale that claims bowing to monogamy is somehow equivalent to caving to heterosexual norms. It’s not. Who’s to say heterosexuals have the exclusive right to monogamy?”

The data indicates that Rosin and Taylor’s narratives are largely sensationalized. Undoubtedly, the vast number of responses indicating that students hadn’t yet found the right people with whom to enter into a relationship align with Rosin’s women, almost all of whom seem to indicate that the men they’re sur-

31%

35%

3.61

rounded by aren’t worth the time investment. But the female Yale and Penn undergraduates and Harvard Business School students Rosin and Taylor interviewed seem wholly uninterested.

It’s easy to cherry pick anecdotes, but when looking at numbers en masse, a more nuanced narrative emerges — the very idea of a “culture” seems worth dropping.

On the whole, Yale undergraduates are somewhat interested in being in monogamous relationships, and there’s not a statistically significant gendered difference.

So why are 69 percent of Yalies still single?

Ultimately, it’s not for lack of interest. And it’s not for fear of being stigmatized. As the majority of Yalies soberly indicated, it’s an answer far more simple, and one that even the traditional monogamous trends of days past could get behind: They just haven’t found the right person.

“I wouldn’t want to have a romantic relationship with someone I’m not deeply in love with,” one surveyed student said.

Meanwhile, in a crowded Bass Café, Reisner explains the flipside of that logic.

“Have you thought about whether you’ll stay together after college?” she and Steinfeld are asked.

There’s a slight hesitation. They look at each other, and Steinfeld gestures with a head nod, a taciturn mutual acknowledgment that Reisner will answer.

“I just feel like if we like each other, we should be together.” Pause.

Either thinking she hasn’t fully answered the question or just wants to add a follow-up, she says in a softer voice, “And we like each other, so we’re still together.”

And with a lightness that belies their almost two-year relationship, they fist bump under the table.

Contact HANNAH SCHWARZ and ERIC XIAO at hannah.schwarz@yale.edu and eric. xiao@yale.edu .

100% 100% 5 I really want to be in a relationship

WEEKEND RECOMMENDS: Your mother’s cooking

Bonus points if you’re from the south. Cheese grits, y’all, amiright?

YALE DAILY NEWS · FRIDAY, OCTOBER 18, 2013 · yaledailynews.com

PAGE B9

WEEKEND FEATURES

COUNTING COOKIE CALORIES // BY ELEANOR RUNDE Commons is bustling. Students mill around the salad bars, dessert trays and fruit baskets. One girl moves slower than the rest. She pauses by the baked goods, reaches for a brownie, then glances up, noticing something. She hesitates, frowning, and her hand wavers. She turns away from the tray of chocolaty goodness.

What changed her mind? A menu identifier, one of those white placards with nutritional information and a calorie count that accompany almost every dish served in Yale dining halls.

For better or for worse, they influence the way that students eat.

Maybe this girl has paused because this card lists an exorbitant number of calories for a single brownie. These inaccuracies are pretty common: on the Yale Dining website, for example, every piece of fresh fruit is listed as having 63 calories each. It’s unlikely that an apple, orange, banana and kiwi all have the exact same calorie count. Maybe this girl is surprised by a sudden nummerical change in the richness of her brownie. Calorie counts on menu identifiers are not uniform over time: on Sundays in some dining halls, students are told that today’s brownies contain zero calories.

These cards have become the brunt of jokes around campus, but many students do not realize the inaccuracies of the calorie counts. And, given inaccurate and inconsistent information, students trying to make healthy choices can be led astray.

Many debate the value of the calorie-conscious culture these cards promote in Yale’s dining halls. Some argue that, by drawing attention to their daily caloric intake, Yale Dining allows students to prevent the drastic weight gain that leads to obesity, diabetes and other health complications.

Others worry that calorie-counting facilitates a growing trend of eating disorders, particularly among young women.

These cards do have the potential to help students, but their current unreliability provokes more anxiety than it allays. *** Aaron Gertler ’15, a gluten-free, sugar-free and “almost dairy-free” eater and “self-described nutrition geek,” said that the two words he would use to describe Yale Dining are “unlimited vegetables.”

“That’s a big deal!” he shouted into the phone during our interview. Once he had calmed down, he added that, no matter what health plan a student wants to pursue, to a reasonable extent, the dining halls are there to assist in that plan.

Right now, according to Direc-

tor of Residential Dining Cathy Van Dyke, Yale Dining’s primary initiatives include reducing the presence of processed foods on the menu and increasing the prevalence of plantbased foods and whole-grain breads.

And students have noticed Yale Dining’s recent attention.

“It’s not reasonably possible to do better than Yale does in a cafeteria that serves thousands of people per day,” Gertler continued.

The menu identifiers are part of these efforts. They display information on allergies, vegan or vegetarian classification, an ingredients list, grams of fat, protein, etc., as well as a count of the calories in each dish. The idea behind the cards is that they will help students make informed decisions about the food they consume, said Van Dyke.

“This is especially important for people with food allergies or particular dietary constraints,” she added.

The cards were originally introduced in 1999. The earliest versions only included the name of the dish.

In 2001, the dining halls added nutritional information — grams of fat, grams of sugar and calorie estimates.

In 2003, the ingredients list was included, and in 2007 allergy information was printed on each card.

This year, the menu identifiers have been redesigned with new icons and terminology to make the cards’ information clearer and more accessible.

Though allergy information was added last, this tends to be the most highly prioritized, and accurate, piece of data on the cards.

“The most important aspect is clearly indicating potential allergens as these can be life-threatening,” said Van Dyke.

After attending to these potentially fatal allergies, Yale Dining’s next priority is informing vegans and vegetarians of the contexts of each dish.

Calorie estimation, a technically unessential bit of information, is prioritized last. *** But because calorie counts are not a top priority, they tend to be inaccurate, and thus lose students’ trust.

Erica Pandey ’17 argued that calories on most dishes are underestimated, while the calories on dessert items seem like exaggerations.

“I actively pay no attention to the cards because I think they’re very wrong,” she said.

Not everyone shares Pandey’s view. In fact, not everyone knows that these cards are there. Of the 40 students I informally surveyed over a lunch at Commons, only half had ever looked at the menu identifier cards.

Boys and girls were equally likely to have noticed the cards, but once

read, the information on them had far greater influence over women than men. The only male respondent who said that menu identifiers affected the way he ate explained that he was an athlete and had to watch his diet.

Ryan Campbell ’16, another man interviewed, pays attention to the cards primarily because of his allergy to tree nuts. To that end, he is “really thankful” that the dining halls have signs above the dishes.

He noted in our conversation, however, “there are mistakes on [the cards] every now and then.” If it seems like an allergen could have been omitted, he approaches dining hall staff and asks for clarification.

Although the menu identifiers serve many purposes, a majority of the girls influenced by the cards focused only on the calorie counts — not the ingredients list or the vegan/ vegetarian classification — as the primary factor in their decisionmaking. Pandey, though not one of the girls interviewed for my survey, acknowledged that this information is hard to ignore. “[The cards] make you remember that food has calories,” Pandey said.

While they grab students’ attention, the cards’ calorie counts aren’t reliable. Many students mentioned that they simply didn’t trust these figures. Three girls interviewed commented that the cards didn’t affect them for that reason alone. If the cards were perceived to be accurate, these students said they might take heed. *** On a card in Commons, a chocolate chip cookie is listed as having 457.13 calories per serving. But, given complaints about the perceived inaccuracy of menu identifiers, I decided to estimate the caloric value of a chocolate chip cookie on my own.

Each ingredient in a cookie recipe has a widely accepted and scientifically determined count of calories within it. For example, one tablespoon of butter (1/8 of a stick) contains approximately 100 calories.

Using these numbers for each ingredient, you can predict how much energy is stored in whatever recipe you make.

For my own experiment, I consulted Yale Dining’s ingredient list for Yale’s chocolate chip cookies, and then searched for online recipes that also used these ingredients (the actual recipe from Yale Dining was not made available). I estimated the caloric value of an entire batch of cookies and then divided the total by the number of servings given for each recipe.

After averaging the caloric value of chocolate chip cookie recipes from

// SARA MILLER

Betty Crocker, Cook’s Illustrated, and Silver Palate, I determined that the average caloric value of a single cookie was 218 calories. As reported on their company websites, chocolate chip cookies from McDonalds are 160 calories and those from Subway are no more than 220.

In contrast, a Yale chocolate chip cookie racks up a whopping 457 calories, or so the cards say. It seems unlikely that a dining hall as healthconscious as Yale’s, would produce cookies that are more than twice as caloric as those of a fast food chain.

More likely, the numbers on the cards are reporting twice the actual caloric value.

The process I used for my experiment is very similar to Yale Dining’s way of estimating calories, except that I did it all by hand. Yale Dining has a database of specific nutritional information, which it gathers from vendors as well as standard nutritional labels. Given their access to this information, it’s surprising that Yale lists such inaccurate data.

At first, I thought there was one possible explanation: that the dining halls might be measuring the serving size to be two or three cookies, instead of just one.

Serving sizes aren’t specified on menu identifiers. Chocolate chip cookies, for example, have a serving size of “1 serving.” Yale Dining looks to the USDA to establish portion size standards, Van Dyke said. However, the specific USDA guidelines aren’t included on the menu identifiers.

In the case of the cookie, Van Dyke did clarify that most nutritional information is for a single-sized

serving, i.e. one cookie. Some other factor must be throwing off Yale’s estimations. *** As students peruse their options, are they really getting much help from these menu identifiers? With no serving sizes available and often-inaccurate calorie counts, it becomes difficult to see how this feature of these cards helps students make decisions about their health and nutrition.

People really do pay attention to these cards. Students with allergies and other dietary constraints, often consult them. But their reliability, especially in regard to caloric accuracy, is often in doubt.

But it is possible that including calorie counts on these cards leads students in the wrong direction. 86 percent of all eating disorders develop during college. And, in a study published in the Journal of American College Health in 1995, 91 percent of women recently surveyed on college campuses had attempted to control their weight through dieting, and 22 percent dieted “often” or “always.”

While Yale Dining’s priority is simply to provide information, it is still unclear whether such information helps more than it harms. Should we err on the side of calorie ignorance, or slip toward overwhelming awareness?

When surveyed about whether the cards impacted her eating habits, one girl admitted, glancing away uncomfortably: “No, but they should.”

Contact ELEANOR RUNDE at eleanor.runde@yale.edu .

How not to care for your plant // BY REBECCA LEVINSKY

In college, we face challenges every day.

For example, every time I come home, I’m reminded that I have no idea how to take care of the plant in my room.

It was really important to my parents that they buy me a plant for my junior year — I think they thought I would be lonely in my single (I’m not lonely, and the plant is stressful). But while perusing the rows of pots at Ikea, I experienced what I imagine adoptive parents feel when scrolling through pictures of potential babies online. Eventually I settled on a two-foot tall leafy, but nondescript specimen I decided to call “Arabella.”

But in this excitement, I forgot something very important: I am not good at keeping anything alive. I come from a stock of good midwestern farmers (or at the very least, Jews who sometimes cut their own lawns and grow tomatoes in elevated garden beds). I cannot even keep a small basil seedling from Whole Foods growing for more than a few days. I have never personally been responsible for something larger.

A potted plant is a big commitment.

My parents gave me detailed instructions on when to water my plant, and how much. And then they left. They still function as a kind of emergency response team, replying quickly to S.O.S. picture messages of my plant’s ailments, such as when her leaves suddenly started to turn yellow.

But the responsibility for the plant’s health is pretty much all mine. And I seem to be failing.

My current situation reminds me of the

F R I D AY OCTOBER 25

REBECCA LEVINSKY ASK REBECCA time in high school when my boyfriend bought me two fish. I managed to kill one of them (the one named after him, I assumed) within a week. Luckily, the pet shop had a return policy, and I received another fish in exchange for the carcass. This one died too. So did the one named after me. Within a few days, the fish tank was empty.

Part of the problem with my plant might be that I keep forgetting her name, and that I forget to water her at least every other week. I set an alert for Sunday at 1 p.m. that reminds me, with many exclamation points, that Arabella needs my love. But I usually ignore my phone’s vibrations.

And so, nearly two months into my role as caregiver for my baby palm tree, I have to admit that I am not very good at this. I can’t remember if I am supposed to leave the blinds open for her to soak up the sunshine or protect her from its harmful rays.

(Is there SPF for our green leafy friends?)

And I may as well confess that she looks nothing like a baby palm tree; I have no idea what kind of plant Arabella is.

If I ever had to re-pot her, I would have no clue what to do. My dean wouldn’t help, and I have never responded to those emails from my personal librarian.

And, so I wonder, whom do you ask when things like this happen to you? Well, the words above my byline say this column

TO PAINT THE WAY THE SPARTANS SPOKE: A LECTURE Yale University Art Gallery // 1:30 p.m.

“SPARTA!” Director Emeritus of the J. Paul Getty Museum John Walsh said.

is called “Ask Rebecca,” so I’d like to propose that you send your questions to me.

I’d like to think that I’m better with people than plants.

Think of me as a non-anonymous, less snarky RumpChat who’s a little more outof-touch. Or a friend who doesn’t ever really text you back in time with the answer you need. But I’m still there for you. We can even get personal if you want; I’m ready to commit. I have a lot of opinions to share with you and am very excited to do so.

Sometimes it’s embarrassing to have to ask our parents and Google for help. We all have moments when we don’t know where to study, how to revive a lethargic Kombucha culture, or what to wear to a Lumberjack-themed screw. I’ll only write every other week or so, so it’s unlikely I will be able to help you solve all your problems, but you may as well ask. I may not know enough to answer every question you submit, but I fully plan on pulling a Pippa Middleton and convincing you that I do. Hopefully I’ll do a better job at this than she does in her column for Vanity Fair.

But this can be a two-way street: if you have any advice for me on how to repair things with Arabella, I’ll gladly receive that as well. I’ve been petting her as I write this, and it seems like she might be enjoying it.

Contact REBECCA LEVINSKY at rebecca.levinsky@yale.edu .

WEEKEND RECOMMENDS: Seeing your High School friends

Being reminded why you left town in the first place.

PAGE B10

YALE DAILY NEWS · FRIDAY, OCTOBER 18, 2013 · yaledailynews.com

WEEKEND COLUMNS

TAKING A BREAK FOR BIG SPACES // BY STEPHANIE TOMASSON

Last weekend, I hung out with the Yale University Art Gallery guides in an abandoned factory and wandered through tall fields of grass in upstate New York. Art would never be the first word to come to mind when considering these two seemingly opposite spaces. Yet, both the factory and the 500-acre meadow display permanent collections that seem to have been made for them, and in some cases actually were.

Dia:Beacon, located in Beacon, NY and the Storm King Art Center, in New Windsor, N.Y. are perfect escapes from the often overwhelming Yale bubble.

My favorite element of Dia:Beacon may have been the building itself.

Originally a Nabisco box-printing facility, and later a factory for International Paper, it was donated to the Dia Foundation in 1999 to use as gallery space for the foundation’s monumental collection of minimalist art from 1960 to the present. This industrial space was never meant to be a gallery, yet its tall brick walls, large open rooms, and huge windows

STEPHANIE TOMASSON PUSHING THE PALETTE KNIFE offering natural lighting, make it a perfect space for one. Ironically, and perhaps intentionally, much of the sculpture, painting and installation work in Dia:Beacon comments on industrialization and mass production. Many of the pieces are from the 1960s, a time when the factory itself was up and running. Head curator, Yasmil Raymond, and her team tackled the mammoth space and created a cohesive, but lenient narrative, that does not force visitors into one particular experience or understanding.

There is no one point of entry into the collection. And, though I took a tour and gained some background knowledge, there is no writing on the walls to explain what you perceive — no mediator between viewer and art.

Visiting Dia:Beacon is a good way to see work by the biggest names of the postmodern and contemporary art scene. Each vast room is dedi-

cated to a particular artist. Some of my favorites included Dan Flavin’s “‘monuments’ for V Tatlin,” a minimalist series that features megalithic fluorescent light fixtures that recede backwards almost infinitely into space. Andy Warhol’s “Shadows” takes over a high white-walled room with its 72 striking screen prints of the same shadow in various colors. Richard Serra’s gargantuan sheet metal installations are in balance in the equally massive, naturally lit room they occupy. Sol LeWitt, a Yale University Art Gallery favorite, is also given pride of place at Dia:Beacon, where you can find an entire maze of his famous mathematical wall drawings. But, though the factory space looms over you, it isn’t hard to approach the works on display. The Gallery Guides and I climbed between the legs of Louis Bourgeois’ giant spider, and even got past the glass to stare into the abysses of Michael Heizer’s four 20-foot-deep sheet metal craters.

Thirty minutes away, we continued our exploration in the far more

open landscape of the Storm King Art Center. There, I really fell in love.

When they acquired the site in 1960, Storm King’s founders, Ralph E. Ogden and H. Peter Stern, intended to use the land as a museum of the Hudson River School. However, in 1966, they acquired 13 geometric sculptures by American abstract expressionist, David Smith, and decided instead to use this rural setting as a stage for massive industrial sculptures. In this pursuit, they succeeded entirely. Storm King’s success articulates the surprising compatibility between natural and industrial. Roy Lichtenstein’s massive pop art boat, for instance, sits on an island in the middle of a pond with a comic-book female set on its prow, providing an ironic take on a 16th century figurehead. Like Dia:Beacon, Storm King also boasts other big names from abstract expressionism to contemporary art, including Yale’s own Maya Lin, who constructed a 240,000 square foot wave field on location. The wave field is about as site-specific as art can get, a series of

15-foot-high earthen mounds that roll outward before your eyes. Just as Dia:Beacon’s curators removed wall-descriptions to narrow the distance between art and viewer, Maya Lin completely breaks down boundaries between her wave field and its visitors. We ran up, down and across each wave, doing what would be considered the height of illegality at most conventional museums — touching the art. Lin’s wave field augments the natural landscape, but also blends into it. It is a quiet, yet powerful ode to the natural world.

It’s recession into the horizon recalls “Women’s Table,” her simple, but direct testament to the female presence at Yale which sits outside the Sterling Memorial Library.

Dia:Beacon and Storm King are opposite spaces, yet they achieve almost the same effect. They are made for the art they display and for visitors with the keen and critical eye that I know Yale students have.

Contact STEPHANIE TOMASSON at stephanie.tomasson@yale.edu .

Sex, Sin, Scandal in ‘The System’

Success, it never comes

// BY SCOTT STERN

// BY DAVID WHIPPLE

When I told friends or family I was currently engrossed in a book about college football, the reaction I always received was: “Really?” Yeah, I’ll admit it; I’m less than even a casual college football fan. I’ll root for Yale over anyone else and I’ll support the University of Pittsburgh out of hometown pride, but I’d be hardpressed to name a single player or coach. My ability to follow a sports team begins and ends with the Steelers.

And yet, I was utterly captivated by — and thoroughly enjoyed — “The System: The Glory and Scandal of Big-Time College Football,” by Jeff Benedict and Armen Keteyian. In fact, I may have enjoyed it all the more because many of the stories that would have been familiar to college fans were completely new to me, and thus surprising. Benedict, an acclaimed and prolific investigative reporter, and Keteyian, chief investigative correspondent for CBS News, do an excellent job making the topic digestible even for someone like me.

College football is, according to the authors, “the biggest game in the United States, in terms of overall impact.” While the NBA or MLB or NFL may have higher salaries and better coverage on ESPN, they have fewer teams, which cover less area, than college football; the only television program more watched than the 2013 BCS College Football National Championship was the Super Bowl. College football “is everywhere.” It is a glorious, monstrous, nearly religious system that is as widespread geographically as it is in its fan base.

And, for all the excitement, college football exists within a highly flawed system. Sex, sin, scandal, and billions of shady dollars stuff its hidden underbelly.

With the rigor of professional journalists, Benedict and Keteyian demonstrate how student athletes are working full-time jobs in a system that does not pay them. College athletes are far more likely than non-athletes to commit crimes, including and especially sexual assault, but much of this misconduct is covered up by team “janitors” (highly paid fixers) or even the police. Injuries — especially head injuries — are everywhere and nearly inevitable. A staggeringly high percentage of players who never go pro also don’t graduate college, and a black player is far more likely than a white player not to receive a diploma.

Top-tier high school recruits — 17-year-olds — are sometimes offered illegal recruitment packages in the hundreds of thousands of dollars, and they are frequently seduced by “hostesses” — leggy college girls who are explicitly directed to flirt (or more) with the boys in order to recruit them. Many teams have budgets over $100 million, and many coaches are the highest paid public employees in the state.

Yet for all the money flooding the game, 90

S AT U R D AY OCTOBER 26

SCOTT STERN READING BETWEEN THE LINES percent of major athletic departments operate at a loss.

It’s crazy. And it’s also highly entertaining. The authors create a gripping narrative through a series of profiles — of coaches, players, recruits, NCAA investigators, agents, strippers and more. We meet Ricky SealsJones, the most sought-after recruit in the country, who is being stalked, bribed and threatened by big-name schools. We see Mike Leach, one of the most controversial and successful coaches in the game, who took a nothing team at Texas Tech, made it into a powerhouse, and then was forced to resign in disgrace. We learn about Ezekiel “Ziggy” Ansah, a Mormon from Africa who, after walking on to the BYU team (never having played the game) and starting for just a half a season, is catapulted into the NFL as the fifth overall pick in the 2013 draft. We hear the tales of donors who make Charles Johnson look tightfisted and players who make Patrick Witt look like a choirboy. And the money, oh the money.

AND, FOT ALL THE EXCITEMENT, COLLEGE FOOTBALL EXISTS WITHIN A HIGHLY FLAWED SYSTEM. Benedict and Keteyian, who have both written for Sports Illustrated and numerous other publications covering athletics, make good use of their contacts, gaining unprecedented access to the 2012 season. At times hyperbolic, at times self-congratulatory, their coverage is nonetheless fresh and eye opening.

“The System” is ultimately more of an indictment than a celebration. It dwells more on the scandal than on the glory. Its authors do not, however, provide many concrete policy suggestions. The system of tutoring college athletes, recruiting college athletes, paying administrators and funding teams is a little scary, but, even after reading “The System,” I wouldn’t know where to begin trying to fix things. Hopefully, “The System” will serve to start a more productive conversation among a wider audience.

Contact SCOTT STERN at scott.stern@yale.edu .

My column, of which this is the last edition, has gone through a few titles, usually because someone in copy doesn’t like the one that I choose. My title of choice has been “Tune-Up,” because it has to do with music and it doesn’t seem to mean anything substantive. But when I tune my guitar, I always find myself tightening the strings too much and then loosening them too much, never quite finding the perfect middle ground. A tune-up is an exercise in approximation, in exploring the locus of points around the one that you know you can’t hit. And so it is with writing about music.

If you’re one of the approximately three people (myself included) who reads my column, you might have noticed that, even though this is ostensibly a “music” column, I only rarely write about music.

I write around it. I talk about loving CDs, and being a jerk at concerts, and my irrational distaste for old rock stars, and zombies. I’m not trying to use clumsy words to represent sublime sounds, nor am I trying to explain to someone why they should absolutely and unequivocally love “Yankee Hotel Foxtrot” (although everyone should). When I have strayed into writing about notes and rhythms, the results have been mixed.

Because writing about music itself is hard as hell. Maybe this is an excuse, maybe an explanation. Subjective evaluation is hard in any case, especially when the thing you’re evaluating appeals to you not on an intellectual level — not necessarily as “fine” or even interpretable art — but on some primal and omnipresent frequency.

Writing about music is like writing about air. Writing about music is like describing a color. Even writing about writing about music leads to abstract nouns and grandiose metaphors, as evidenced by the preceding sentence. Album reviews, as much fun as they might be, are endeavors in some way doomed to fail. Not only do you eventually have to simply say, “It’s good” or “It’s bad,” but the musical qualities you must consider are as elusive and shapeless as your conclusions themselves.

Weirdly enough, that’s why I like writing about music (or writing around it, with occasional tangential contact). I like writing about music because I like talking about music, and I like talking about music because of that inexplicable understanding that passes between people as they both scramble to put into words the reasons why Pavement is just so fucking … yeah. With that mutual and word-

FOOTBALL: ALABAMA V. TENNESSEE

less agreement established, a grin passes between them like a joint, and they go listen to some Pavement, and it’s … yeah.

And then I try to write a column about why Pavement is awesome, and unless you’ve listened to Pavement and you know why it’s awesome, you’re going to have no idea what I’m talking about.

This column is not a conversation. It couldn’t be, even if I wished it were. Not only is it one-sided, but I don’t even know who would be on the other side if there were one. All of Yale might read my column (stop laughing). None of Yale might read my column. Or — most likely — my audience might be me, Akbar and that girl in section who always agrees with my comments (thanks). But for whoever’s on the other end, even if we can’t talk about what makes Pavement so … yeah, hopefully I can make you say, “Huh. I never thought about it/listened to it that way before.” And little would make me happier than to be able to do that.

I’m equally happy to have someone say, “I already thought about that, but I like the way you said it.” This result, I think, would be closer to my hypothetical conversation about Pavement — superficially pointless, but satisfying anyway.

At the end of the day, though, I know I’m not going to convince you to love something you didn’t. I’m not going to change the way a given song resonates in your brain, whether or not its waves and yours have the same tempo. That’s the whole point of music: If loving it could be reduced to a column-length argument, it would be boring. But I will close with a list of things I think about music. Which, I guess, is kind of what I’ve been doing this whole time.

So: Originality is good, but weirdness for its own sake is not; if you could die on stage without that stopping the music, then it doesn’t count as a live performance; guitar is the best instrument, preferably with a little bit of fuzz; music is (usually) more important than lyrics; OK Computer is better than Kid A; lyrics shouldn’t make perfect sense; modern band names suck; rock and roll ain’t gonna die.

There, I said it.

Contact DAVID WHIPPLE at david.whipple@yale.edu .

WEEKEND RECOMMENDS:

The City of Champions // 3:30 p.m.

Rammer jammer yellow hammer give ’em hell Alabammer!

DAVID WHIPPLE TUNE UP

Being sensual

“Thinking About You” with our homeboy (eh!) JBiebz will help you get there.

YALE DAILY NEWS · FRIDAY, OCTOBER 18, 2013 · yaledailynews.com

PAGE B11

WEEKEND THEATER

WHAT WE TALK ABOUT WHEN WE TALK ABOUT EDITING // BY ANDREW KOENIG

“Beginners by Raymond Carver; Or, What We Talk About When We Talk About Love” is a long title for a short drama. Based on Raymond Carver’s eponymous short story, the play was adapted by Phillip Howze and directed

by András Visky, blending together elements of biography, theater and criticism. It’s both a play and a commentary on the machinery of editing.

Most of the piece is an adaptation of Carver’s short story about two couples who talk love over drinks. The conversation escalates when the older woman, Terri, talks about an old flame who nearly killed her for love. Arguments over the nature of love ensue.

Carver’s short story is composed largely of dialogue, which explains its immediate appeal to a playwright.

It’s easy material to convert, and it’s good material. His prose is shimmering, smooth, easy, and it captures the American idiom and rhythm of speech.

It’s almost written like a screenplay — dialogue with brief pauses to describe gestures, lighting and movement. But a nearly word-for-word adaptation is a double-edged sword. You get the ease and fluidity of Carver’s dialogue, but a question arises: Does the adaptation do anything the short story doesn’t?

It does, of course, but its innovations only work some of the time.

Spliced into the plot of the story are extended voiceovers, in which an unseen actor reads from correspondence Carver had with his editor, Gordon Lish. Carver defends the story as he wrote it, tells Lish he loves him, begs that nothing be changed and so on. Meanwhile text from the story is projected onto the back wall; little

carrot-marks and cross-outs show the editing process at work. Unfortunately, the text swirling about can be difficult to see or process before more text replaces it. Nor is this move particularly original. It’s a rather literal demonstration of editing.

The direction does better when it explores editing through subtler means. For instance, characters occasionally step into the limelight, leaving the rest in the dark, embarking on monologues that Carver eventually cut from the final version of his story.

We see blocks of crossed-out text behind the actors. Indeed, we see that Carver was right to excise these soliloquies, mostly poetic excurses on cattle and snow that have little to do with his minimalist and everyday style. The director sheds light on Carver’s maturation as a writer without breaking the rhythm of the play.

Elsewhere, the rhythm feels off.

The adaptation tries too hard to shoehorn Carver’s smooth and understated prose into the standard forms of performance — monologue, banter and retort, rejoinder. Actors rush their delivery to swell a scene or raise their voices to show they’re agitated. The quiet, subdued rhythms of Carver’s prose are replaced with those of the capital-T Theater. The “human noise” made by Carver’s characters, ambiguous and rich, is forced to fit the confines of dramatic performance. The lines of dialogue in Carver’s story are so bare, so unmediated by narration.

They could be caustic, gentle, tragic or humorous. Onstage every line has a too-specific intonation — sarcastic, or ironic, or effusive.

The play asks good questions, but does so imperfectly. The interruption of the plot with voiceovers, though jarring, raises interesting concerns about character. When the characters all freeze in the darkness and we hear Carver talking about them to his editor, we become acutely aware of the fraught power dynamics between a writer and his work.

The excised monologues and material we’re shown on the screen reveal just how much Carver’s characters live and breathe in his consciousness. We see how almost maniacally possessive Carver is of his creation. We wonder whether he’s fully in control of his characters, or whether they’ve slipped out of his grasp. It’s painful to see entire pages of text pared down to a couple words, to see parts of characters pruned away, maimed by their author and his editor.

At the end of the play, the actors stare at a screen whose text describes their own movements. In moments like these, the play rises to the level of thought-provoking, textual self-consciousness. While this move isn’t new, it is interesting for its integration of biographical and historical context.

But often this effort at incorporation is forced, or imperfectly executed.

Despite the bold staging, the play’s directorial gambles don’t quite pay off.

Contact ANDREW KOENIG at andrew.koenig@yale.edu .

// NICK THIGPEN

An Old, Less Familiar Tune // BY WESLEY YIIN

// HARRISON KORN

S U N D AY OCTOBER 27

It isn’t everyday that you get to hear music from the medieval era performed live, but surprises abound at the Beinecke Rare Book & Manuscript Library. On Wednesday afternoon, the Yale Collegium Musicum performed a selection of songs from the Mellon Chansonnier, a collection of 15th centuryFrench music. During the first 30 minutes of the event, professor Rebekah Ahrendt presented a short lecture that opened up the world of early music both to uncultured plebeians like yours truly and to musical connoisseurs — which essentially made up the rest of the concert’s audience.

The Mellon Chansonnier — a book of songs that Yale has possessed since 1940, 23 years before the library’s opening — is thought to have been compiled by Flemish composer and theorist Johannes Tinctoris in 1475. He amassed 57 of his favorite pieces — many of which were composed by his friends and acquaintances — and presented the collection to King Ferrante I of Naples. Ferrante then gave the Chansonnier to his daughter, Beatrice of Aragon, who also happened to be Tinctoris’s student. (Ferrante must have commissioned Tinctoris to compile the Chansonnier: You would hope that 15th century kings would be above regifting!)

Over five centuries later, a group of 25 young musicians have revived the songs in the ultramodern venue of the Beinecke, where some of the world’s oldest manuscripts are protected by state-ofthe-art technology. Most of the singers in the “Collegium Chorus” are undergrads enrolled in “The Performance of Early Music” (MUS 223) taught by Ahrendt and professor Grant Herreid, who also conducted the group.

A number of the singers doubled as instrumentalists, playing authentic recreations of medieval instruments such as the vielle, viol and sackbut, a Baroque-era trombone. Garbed in entirely black attire, the chorus stood in an arc in front of manuscript display cases, with silhouettes reflected in the thick glass.

Even with the aid of an introductory lecture, most laypeople attending such a performance would probably have difficulty dis-

NATIONAL PLUSH ANIMAL LOVERS’ DAY

YOU WOULD HOPE THAT 15TH CENTURY KINGS WOULD BE ABOVE REGIFTING! What made the concert exceptional were the incredibly talented performers. To take MUS 223, students have to audition for the professors; their skill was evident in the way their voices blended together, echoing across the room’s translucent marble. It was clear that the singers had solid voices and musical backgrounds to begin with. But the surprising and uplifting reality is that these students took this performance so seriously and put so much work into perfecting their craft.

I can’t imagine what a reenactment of the Homestead strike by ForMAC students or a dance performance by those enrolled in Black Mambo would look like. Ahrendt also mentioned that much of the research and information in the lecture and concert program had been compiled by the students. It’s not easy for young people to impress a crowd of experts whose median age is decades above that of the chorus itself. And yet, the audience’s enthusiasm proved that this was exactly what happened. As she rose from her seat, my neighbor to the left sighed, “I could listen to this all day.”

The next time a performance of this kind rolls around — which will be on Dec. 5, according to the concert program — anyone who is remotely interested in music and its colorful history should attend. You may not be able to fully comprehend the language or even the wonderful stylistic idiosyncrasies, but for 45 minutes, your ears will fill with mellifluous, sweeping harmonies that you will never forget. It’s an excellent study break and an opportunity to learn something that can be taught at nowhere else but Yale.

Contact WESLEY YIIN at wesley.yiin@yale.edu .

WEEKEND RECOMMENDS:

Everywhere // Tomorrow

Honestly, you need a full day of prep for this.

tinguishing each of the songs solely by ear. But the Musicum wants the show to be accessible, which is likely why the lyrics and translations for each song flashed across a screen behind the performers. To keep watchers engaged and in their seats, Ahrendt, Herreid and the students played a combination of fast songs and slow ones, loud choral pieces and softer solo-based tunes. After every block of three or four songs, there was a shorter, instrumental piece that served as an audial intermission.

All in all, the show was optimally structured.

OPTIMISM

Stay on your perch. The meadow is near. The bless is high. Thanksgiving break is just 28 days away.

PAGE B12

YALE DAILY NEWS · FRIDAY, OCTOBER 18, 2013 · yaledailynews.com

WEEKEND BACKSTAGE

// HENRY EHRENBERG

THE SECRET LIVES OF WILLOUGHBY’S BARISTAS // BY SARA JONES

Sept. 21, Loria was abuzz with Manet mania. The center was in the midst of a conference — the aptly named “Olympiad” — commemorating the 150th anniversary

of the painting of Édouard Manet’s “Olympia” and “Déjeuner sur l’herbe.” During this particular weekend, art historical luminaries from the Musée d’Orsay and a host of French universities descended on the Elm City to give lectures on topics inspired by the two tableaux in question — and dropped by Willoughby’s Coffee and Tea. As a proudly stereotypical history of art major, it’s worth admitting that I spend more than my fair share of time in Willoughby’s — the weekend of the 21st being no exception. After a marathon of Manetcentric lectures, I stopped by the coffee shop to refuel with an iced latte and found myself chatting with one of the professors whose talk I had just attended. Several weeks later, I ventured once again to Willoughby’s for a chat, though this time heading behind the counter to interview Sharrard Wells and Kwanjay Fortes. The pair of ink-free baristas shared with WEEKEND the

real scoop on what it’s like to interact with caffeine-addicted Yalies on a daily basis. Sporting “serious coffee drinker” staff tees, they revealed what really goes down in the coffee shop — a spot populated by localbrew devotees, Euro-chic architecture students, and Loria-frequenting undergrads. According to Wells and Fortes, Yale students are partial to flax seed bars, broccoli-cheddar croissants and day drinking on St. Patty’s. (And — spoiler alert — not everyone thinks the now-ubiquitous Y sweater is pretentious.) Read on for more of the down-and-dirty on the daily grind (pun intended).

Q. How many years have you been at Willoughby’s?

Wells. Well, I worked here a couple years ago too, so in total, about three years.

Fortes. About a year and a half.

Q. What’s the most interesting encounter you’ve had with a Yalie?

Crazy things you’ve overheard?

Wells. There’s a lot of interesting encounters. One time these kids came in on St. Patrick’s Day, maybe around 4–5 p.m., and caused such a

ruckus. They asked to use the bathroom, and then puked in the sink.

It was pretty gross but also kind of funny. Another time — I don’t know if she was associated with Yale — this woman stormed out when we didn’t have what she wanted in stock. Except you’re supposed to push the door and she pulled it, which probably added about 10 seconds to her exit.

Fortes. Definitely at certain times weird stuff will happen. Somebody came in and asked if we sold like toothpaste or deodorant or some kind of hygiene product, something weird like that.

Wells. “A lot of Yalies come in and order Americanos. That’s a popular order. Food-wise, it varies a lot, but I guess mostly chocolate or broccoli-cheddar croissants.”

Fortes. “Definitely flax seed bars.

And like, regular coffee.”

Q. How are Yalies? Annoying? Elitist?

Polite?

Q. Any other comments on working at Willoughby’s?

Wells. “There’s all kinds of people. You get a couple snobs every now and then, but you just learn to ignore them after a while. For the most part, everyone’s nice.”

Fortes. “Friendly and polite, I would say.”

Wells. “The staff here definitely isn’t normal — they’re definitely funny and welcoming, you don’t get that very often anymore.”

Fortes. “Well, it gets busy weekday mornings and during the day like, late noon I would say.”

Q. Yalies’ most popular drink order?

Snack of choice?

“

Q. What do you think of the “Y” sweaters everyone’s wearing now?

Wells. “They’re just sweaters in my opinion … they seem cool for the winter. I’d wear one if I had one, but I’m not a Yale student.”

Fortes. “I like them. I have a Yale jacket at home. I like the Yale gear.”

Contact SARA JONES at sara.l.jones@yale.edu .

SOMEBODY CAME IN AND ASKED IF WE SOLD LIKE TOOTHPASTE OR DEODORANT

“

W

hile most Yale students snoozed through the typically sleepy Saturday morning of