Name: Bryanna Jones

Mentors: Leah Stein & Joshua Block

Goldsworthy, Andy. Andy Goldsworthy: A Collaboration with Nature. New York: H.N. Abrams, 1990. Print.

What’s interesting about Andy Goldsworthy’s book is that he is a site specific artist. He creates art from material in the environment because he is interested in “movement, change, light, growth and decay.” Although he is referring to art these can also refer to dance. He believes that his work is inseparable from the earth, which is similar to site specific dance. He also reads his spaces like choreographers, to see if they are conducive to creating art and allowing the art to thrive. Like site art the choreography in site dancing wants to rely a message to the audience that is specific to the space.  

Kloetzel, Melanie, and Carolyn Pavlik, eds. Site Dance. Gainesville: U of Florida, n.d. Print.

When Mr. Block first recommended this book he did it with the intention of having me read Leah Steins chapter. Little did I know this book would be a gem. In the introduction the author describes site choreography as a “performative translation of a place that heightens our awareness of our surrounding.” Artist go into communities/spaces such as schools, offices, apartments, neighborhoods, and parks and “read” the environment. The artist analyze the space “physically, sensually, intellectually, and emotionally.” With this research and analysis the author is able to choreograph work that is pertinent to the contextual environment. Site artist take the most obvious spaces and force us to take a close look at them. Site choreographers purpose is to forge a relationship between “people and place.”

Kwon, Miwon. One Place after Another: Site-specific Art and Locational Identity. Cambridge, MA: MIT, 2002. Print.

https://books.google.com/books?hl=en&lr=&id=s8KviDnz1SwC&oi=fnd&pg=PP6&dq=site+specific+art&ots=F4luU0Qkrk&sig=u8RvnLsbex_U_VVLXINVTaC8MIA#v=onepage&q&f=false

Dance is an art form. Site specific art refers to art that is obstinate in presence, but ephemeral in tangibility. Unlike auditorium performances site specific art uses location as a part of the performance, not just a venue. On site locations give the performance more depth: texture, real life sounds, color, scale and nature. “Site specific art whether it’s interruptive or assimilative, gave itself up to it environmental context, being formally determined or directed by it.” Sites specific art is created from its contextual environment. Therefore the art must be destroyed by the contextual environment. The most beautiful part about site specific art is no one will ever run out of exhibit spaces.

"SLA/Leah Stein Dance Company Collaboration 2012." YouTube. YouTube, n.d. Web. 28 Jan. 2015. <https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=OuW_V3NvxmE>.

Since I’ve worked with the Leah Stein Dance Company in the past and will be working alongside her team for my capstone; I thought I’d use a source where she explained her passion for site specific dance and her purpose for doing a SLA dance residency. She describes the work she does as “movement based.” Her goal with creating this residency was to introduce the students to the creative process of site specific dance and perform at the end. Her style of performance is different from those of normal performances that happen on stage. She performs in public or unconventional performance space to engage the audience differently as well as the performers. Before the students are able to create their own performances Leah and members of her company teach the students the basics of interpreting a space through movement and sound. Once the students have these basics down pat they are able to choose a location within given limits to create a performance.

"Rivers and Tides." YouTube. YouTube, 10 Dec. 2013. Web. 28 Jan. 2015. <https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xQiHfgFnY_A&noredirect=1>.

For Andy Goldsworthy art is a form of nourishment. He expresses his need for the land because of the similar energies he feels in the land and within himself. The idea that this growth and time will only last for a duration of time inspires many of his pieces. His art makes a temporary mark on time. When he flies to new sites he does not waste a second on research or resting because time will continue to move on with or without his readiness. He prefers to manipulate piece nature with inherent care and creativeness. Especially part of nature we tend to over look like leaves and icicles. “Total control can be the death of work,” is a quote he uses to describe the uncertainty he felt when he began to create art outside of his university.  

Lerman, Liz. Hiking the Horizontal: Field Notes from a Choreographer. Middletown, CT: Wesleyan UP, 2011. Print.

I had a meeting with Leah today and she gave me a list of great resources! The following source was perfect for figuring out the space that I am. The book follows the creative process of a site-specific performing, from questioning the performance to the final product. Lerman’s first chapter is called Fueling the Imagination, in this she talks about her visit with a Nobel Laureate. She ask him “how do you ask yourself a question.” He responds, “I am fueled by my ignorance.” She thought that his simple answer was not only profound, but also described her artistic process. This question to self leads to asking people other questions, even with the fear of asking them. Since we define smartness by the precisions of someones answer, instead of the steps they took to find an answer. Throughout my process my questions may seem silly, but i have to remember that it is apart of learning.

Borrow, Jonathan. "Subject / Inspiration / Stealing / Familiar Movements / Choreography / Referencing Others Self Expression." A Choreographer's Handbook. Abingdon:. Abingdon: Routledge, 2010. 30-36. Print.

Leah also recommended A Choreographer’s Handbook. In a chapter in this book I focused on the chapter called Subject / Inspiration / Stealing / Familiar Movements / Choreography / Referencing Others Self Expression. Jonathan Borrows talks about having an idea and treating it as such. For example, Thinking that someone with do fouettes throughout the performance is a cool idea, but does it work? How does it fit with the space? Sense this is site dance what does this movement mean? In order to create a great piece I must put in the work and utilize my space. It almost seems that he is alluding to procrastination.

Black Performance Theory. Durham: Duke UP, 2014. Print.

I am equally interested in site dance as I am in Black performance theory. Since I am using all Black dancers I thought this would be a great idea to add an elements of Black performance. Black peformance is an art form that translates the black experience in America. It’s political and therefore controversial. This theory “gives distinct attention to” the beauty of black bodies. Movement that is created to accent the bodies of black people and the struggles they have been through. Black performance theory does not only pertain to dance, but also art, poetry, prose, music, fashion design,etc.

Bloom, Lynne A. The Intimate Act of Choreography. Pittsburgh: U of Pittsburgh, n.d. Print.

This source focuses on the art of actively creating choreography. Since choreography is an action it can only be planned and carried out by doing it. Similar to my Subject / Inspiration / Stealing / Familiar Movements / Choreography / Referencing Others Self Expression annotation, since I am creating site specific dance I need to make sure I am well acquainted with my spaces. Therefore I can create choreography that is specific to where I am working. In order for the performance to be effective it needs a theme. Specifically a theme that can be easily conveyed. So far my theme is going to be education in SLA.

Olsen, Andrea. The Place of Dance: A Somatic Guide to Dancing and Dance Making. Connecticut: Wesleyan UP, 2014. Print.

This book speaks about dance as a universal language, making it one of the best art forms. It makes communication between cultures easier and enjoyable. As humans we belong to each other and more importantly we are belong to the Earth. Since we have evolved with the world, naturally we have learned movements that are a part of our environment. Therefore, as a choreographer I am not creating movement I am mimicking the world's natural movements. This also stems from the theory that we are all natural born dancers. Dance is movement and movement is dancing. As a choreographer I must tap into the human body's natural movements to make my theme easily conveyable on a universal scale.

My mother killed me. Before you close the laptop and walk away, hear me out. She was trying to heal me, but things went terribly wrong after August of 2001. I know this is weird, but let me tell you I have lived two lives on earth and the third is just beginning.

“In recent weeks we learned that scientist have created human embryos in test tubes solely to experiment on them. This is deeply troubling and a warning sign that should prompt all of us to think through these issues very carefully. Embryonic stem cells research is at the leading edge of a series of moral hazards.”

“Sara, did you hear?” Virginia said.

“ No, what happened.” Sara replied.

“Apparently our president is a scientist now. He’s cutting off all funds for stem cell research!”

“Wait, he can’t do that? Can he?”

“I guess he can. After he said it was a ‘moral hazard’ I had to cut it off.”

President Bush addressed the nation in April of 2009 to announce the federal budgets ban on embryonic stem cell research. The scientist in my mom’s Pathology lab were appalled because no one has ever put a ban on science.

My mother has dedicated her entire life to science, especially after the school district’s budget cuts. You see my dad was an art teacher, art was his only passion, besides his family of course. With his long dreads, and septum piercing he only wore loose clothing, with a chill attitude. After the cuts my dad was laid off because the school could no longer afford an art class. Mason is a cool dad, even after losing the his job he manages to keep the family happy. He’s a stay home dad with no reservations about his about his role.

On the other hand, my twin sister Sabrina is a brat. She’s a total daddy’s girl and because of that she can get almost what ever she wants. It’s not like she’s dumb or anything, she’s brilliant. She skipped the 1st grade and has made honor roll since pre K. I’m not jealous, just confused as to how on she inherited of the smart genes. Her best friend Riley is cool too. She has a bunch of cool art supplies, eggplant colored hair, and already has a career goal in mind.

Oh yeah! I’m Hayden, I’m the reason my mother even studies embryonic stem cells. She was originally studying the Unfolded Protein Response phenomenon in the 90‘s.Back then UPR was fairly new and doctors had no clue how it correlated with illnesses within the human body, my mom was on to something when she was studying C. Elegans, then she got pregnant with me. The doctors had told her that I had high risk of having type 1 diabetes because it was a trait in my family. “High risk” to her ears meant for sure. And at the age of 5 she was correct. My mother made it her job to find a cure for type one diabetes, so she preserved our placenta. With the placenta she would be able to use my stem cells to grow more beta cells.You know the cells in the pancreas that make insulin. Hoping that one day she would be able to make me better. Who can say that their mom is trying to find a cure for them?

In order for my mom to study this has to do some ungodly things, but I say hey if it’s for the greater good then why not.

It was a friday when this all happened my mother came home from her research lab and  draped herself over the couch. She looked defeated, and I knew just how make her better.

“Momma, momma!” I yelled from the top of the carpeted staircase.

“ Yes love?” she responded.

“Look at me! I’m a brand new beta cell.” I skipped every other step, once I reached the bottom I jumped on to the landing and put my hands on my hip. “Beta Boy to the rescue!” I jumped over the umbrella bucket, or at least I thought I did. Before I knew I was laid out on the floor. My mother had fallen asleep on the couch while I was making my grand entrance. I got up, turned my cap to the back and walked over to her. “Mom.” I nudged her side.

“Yes?” she said sleepily.

“Do like my new costume?”

“I love it. Where is your sister?

“She and dad went to the market to get groceries for dinner,” I said walking towards the t.v.

“Oh great I don’t have to cook tonight,” I was happy too, my mother isn’t the best cook.

“ How’s the research?” Although I was 10 I knew a thing or two about what my mother did in those big labs. She always came home with cool stories about explosions or cool treatments for patients. Most of the time I asked just to see if she had come closer to finding a cure for me.

“It’s not so good Hayden,” She says sitting up. She extended her arms out to me to come sit on her lap. “Listen you know our president right?”

“No.”

“Well our president name is George Bush. He doesn’t believe in the same things that researchers believe in. He’s against science. “

“Is he bad?”

“No hun he’s not bad just, incompetent.”

“What does in...in...compethent mean?”

“Don’t worry about that, but he’s not into science.”

“Good afternoon everyone!” My dad came walking in the door with his hands full and Sabrina trailing behind him with a small toy in her hand.“Virginia, what’s the matter?”

“Things aren’t so good at the lab. I’m going to take a shower, then we can all talk at dinner. Deal?”

“Ok,” I responded. My mother was never this somber. She may be tired, but she always’ managed to talk to us and make us smile.

“Hayden come help us,” My dad yelled from the kitchen

“Yeah come help!” Sabrina echoed.

“O.k.” I ran upstairs to take off my cap. As I walked passed the bathroom door I could hear my mom whimpering. “Momma, are you ok.” I knocked

“Yes love, I’m fine.” I could hear her wipe her tears.

I continued to my room, when I arrived I laid on top of my bed with my legs stretched out. I laid their mesmerized by the chipped white paint dangling from my ceiling. I smelt the food cooking and the shower running, but my gut would not untie itself from the knot it was in. I was awaken by Sabrina’s loud voice coming from the bottom of the steps.

“Hayden Butt head Jordan come eat!”

“Who are you calling butt head!” I yelled from my room.

“You!”

“Oh I’ll show you a butt head alright!” I dashed down the steps ready to battle Brina in a screaming match.

“Hey, you two, cut it out!” My mom yelled from the dinner table.

“Yeah, before neither of you eat dinner.” My dad said . “Dear I thought we made lemonade last night?”

“I had to dump it out a fly landed in it.” As we all sat in our unofficially assigned table seats my father asked the question I’ve been dying to have an answer to.

“So dear what happened today?” He said scooping mashed potatoes on to his spoon.

“Well Mr. President has decided to put a ban on funding for stem cell research as well as banning it in the states completely.”

“ Mom can you still do research?” I said holding my fork to my mouth.

“Um, honey look I have plans on how I’m going to keep doing research, but we won’t be able to live in the states.” She said as she cut her steak.

“So where do we have to go?”

“Indonesia.” She put her cut steak in her mouth.

“Indonesia?” My dad said with a puzzled look on his face.

“I know it’s a stretch, but I know that I’ll be able to find a cure there.”

“Dear, why Indonesia?”

“Indonesia has a large population of orangutans. Orangutan are primates and with these animals I can further my research. Also because the country has not put any bans on stem cell research. Look guys I know this is a stretch, but Imagine living in the jungle, playing in creeks, and curing Hayden.”

“Can I talk to upstairs for a minute dear?” I knew my parent were going to be gone for the rest of the dinner so Brina and eye just went to the couch to watch t.v.

“Do you have uproot our lives and carry to the other side of the world to find a cure? It’s not like the boy has cancer! He has diabetes, all he needs is his insulin.”

“I took him to the doctors a week ago and he told me that his immune system is not only killing his beta cells but is also beginning to eat away at his liver and lungs.”She said as she walked to the divan

“There is a possibility that is cancer, but the doctor said that it was some sort apoptosis mutation. Instead killing cells it eating away at vital internal organs.” She sat down.

“Does he know?”

“No, I don’t want to worry him. It’s bad enough he doesn’t think I can find a cure.”

“But Dear...” My mother cut him short.

“I don’t want my 10 year old to think of death before he is able to ride his bike, without training wheels. I don’t want my son to have to live each day waiting to die. He is a child! My child deserves to live.”

“Dear you aren’t god you can’t heal everyone.”

“That is why I dropped all of my past experiments to help him! I am not healing everyone I am healing my child. Why don’t you get that?” She stand to walk out of the room.

“I do, I’m sorry. I just don’t want you to be discouraged if you don’t discover a cure.”

“That’s the difference between you and I hun, I won’t stop. I won’t sleep. I promised my son I would cure him and I will.” my mother rushed out of the room and down the steps. “Kids! pack your things we are moving to Indonesia next Saturday.” She said as she stood in front of the t.v.

The next week was hectic. My mother still needed to find us a place to stay, my dad had to take us out of school, and my sister and I had to prepare ourselves to live in a different country. We had never been outside the country, the only places we’ve been were to Puerto Rico, Virginia, and Kansas.My father told us that we were relocating for a better life for us all especially me. I understood it all, but I couldn’t help but think that something else had to be wrong.

“Kids when we get on the plane chew the gum immediately, Brina you know how your ears start to popping as soon as we hit cruising altitude.” She said as she handed out our boarding passes.

“We are now seating rows L through O.” The woman called over the loudspeaker.

“Ok guys that is us, lets go.” My father led the way through grey tube that took us to the airplane. “Brina and Hayden are you excited?”

“I’m excited dad. You know I was a bit nervous this morning on our way over to the airport, but now I am super excited.” Brina said

“I just want to go explore the jungle,” I said as I looked back at my mom.

“Oh and I will be you two’s new teacher,” My dad said

“ Dad can we have school in the jungle?”

“Everyday!”

When we got on the plane I felt like crying. I didn’t know where we were going, I only saw google images of Indonesia. When we arrived I was in awe. The trees were so green, the soil was a glistening brown tent, and the sky was clear.

“Welcome to the jungle kids!” My mom opened her arms wide as if she was going to hug the forest. “Our home should be just up the trail!” It was just up the trial, disguised as a tree. I ran into the family room to a panoramic window. “That over their love is lab,”she pointed to a smaller bungalow, “is where we will be spending most of our time.”

A week later my mother took the placenta to the lab and began to extract stem cells. She also took some cells from my pancreas to study the cell lines. Then she found an impregnated orangutan, bled her and took her beta cells. My mother worked tirelessly for weeks. She created an artificial protein that would allow the pancreatic cells to produce insulin without the immune system killing them off. This worked well in the orangutan cells so she tried it on mine.

“Mom, how’s it going?” I asked her when she walked in the door

“Great! I’m really close but I want to run a couple more test to make sure that everything is ok with the cells.”

“What kind of test?”

“To see if the cells are actually able to produce insulin.”

“Oh ok,” I reply I as walk to my room. I close my door and lay on my bed.

“Hayden?” I hear a soft knock at the door.

“Who is it?”

“It’s Brina.”

“Why are you whispering?”

“I don’t know. I thought it would make it would cooler.” Brina said as she walked in.

“I miss Riley, man. I can’t call her, or see her.” She said as she laid on my bed.

“I’m sorry to hear that.”

“Don’t be sorry bro just listen.”

“Um, ok.” I flop on to the bed too.

“I like Riley.”

“Of course you do! She’s your best friend.”

“No, I mean... I like Riley the way that boys like girls,” She looked away from me and out the window.

“Oh. Ok. How long have you felt this way?” I turn to find the back of her head.

“Since the beginning, besides you, she’s the only other person I feel close to.”

“Na uh, dad.”

“Not even him.” She out her hands across her stomach. “Are you... scared?”

“Scared of what?”

“Of dying.”

“I mean, what if mom’s little potion doesn’t work?”

“First, it’s not a potion! It’s cells, beta cells. Secondly, mom would never put a deadly cell inside of me.”

“Oh, if you say so.”

“Why do you think that?”

“I have that weird feeling in my gut. Like I’m afraid for you.” She reached out and touched my shoulder. “Hey if you trust it then so do I.”

“Yea, I do.”

“Oh yeah dad told me to tell you to come eat.”

“I’m coming.” I turned over and stared out the window.

“Hayden some eat!” My dad yell from down the hall.

The next day was the big day. My mother had fed me a hearty breakfast, or should I say my father made it and she made sure I ate it all. She told me I would need as much food as I could get because it would be a long process. After I ate the plate clean we walked to the research facility, My mother gave me a white gown, and then laid me on her check up table.

“OK Hayden I’m going to inject this needle right into the pancreas.” She help up the longest needle in the world, and plucked it. “It’s going to hurt a bit, but try your best to stay still.” A short tan man walked in and introduced himself.

“Hi, I’m doctor Carr I will be administering your cells today.” He held out his hand.

“Cool, I’m Hayden.The patient.” I shook his hand.

He giggled a bit and responded, “ Alright I’m going to ask to to lay flat on your back.”

“Alright Doctor Car.” I closed my eyes tightly and laid flat.

“Take a deep breathe.” He said while my eyes were tightly shut. Soon I felt the needle penetrate my skin. The needle was long, and putting the cells in took even longer. I was beginning to tear up, but I would not open my eyes. My insides felt felt warm and fuzzy, and I no longer heard my mom and Dr.Car in the room. My skin began to feel furry, and brittle. I opened my eyes and my vision was a bit different. I lifted up my hand and saw the reddish orange fur.

“Mom.” Although it didn’t sound like english or human. “Mom!” I yelled even louder and it sounded like a groan. I was afraid, no one returned to the room. “Brina!” No one heard me because I wasn’t speaking I was groaning like a monkey.

I got up from the table and fell to the floor. I was shorter, furrier, smellier. I ran around the room trying to find a mirror of some sort but I couldn’t. I ran to the bathroom. I knew I find a mirror in there and I walked in on my mom fixing her lipstick.

“Mom, mom, mom!” I scream from within the body but the words couldn't translate to english when they left my mouth. My mom began to fight me, or at least try. I jumped on to the sink and I saw my reflection. I was an orangutan. How?

“Get out! Now! Stop!.” My mother screamed at me.

I jumped downed and walk towards the entrance. I had to get Brina to realize me.

“Get out of here you monkey!”

My mom went back later that day to check on my body. I was gone physically changed I was gone. My mother had seen me and did not even notice me. Brina was right about having that feeling and that feeling I had on the plane. I felt better, I wasn’t tired or sore I was effervescent and healthy. My mother say me approach the entrance and  came charging at me.

“Get out!” She opened the door and shoved me out.

I was in the jungle, exposed, confused, tired, and Dr. Carr was no where in sight. I had to get to Brina, she would notice. Well I think she would my mother didn’t.

I had been in the jungle for the 3 days, no orangutans in site. I’m sure my parents were worried sick!I had to say living of the and had been a lot of fun. I could swing from trees with out my mom yelling get down. I could eat all the fruit I desired. I heard Brina walking towards the garden my senses were heightened as a monkey. I walked up to her calmly, hoping out twin telepathy would spark something in her mind. I stood there looked her in her eyes and didn’t move.

“Hayden?” She squinted her eyes as if she could see me in this body. “Hayden, answer me.” I made an awful noise and she knew i was in there somewhere. “You can’t talk can you.” I shook my head as she walked closer. “Look come with me, you can hide in my room.”

I followed Brina home. When we arrived dad was looking out the front window.

“Wait here,” She said. “Hey dad, can you come help me?”

“Sure kid. Did you see your brother or something?”

“Yea I thought I saw him up the trail. At the blue sign go over there before he leaves and I meet you, I have to go change my shoes.”

“Alright, hurry up”

She watched my dad walk down the path before she signaled me to come. She took me up the step and into her room. Brina was a private person so I was never invited onto her room before.

“O.k. stay in here, I’ll bring you some food. You must be starving.” I nodded my head.

I heard Brina talking to our mom in the kitchen.

“What is that on your hand?” My mom asked

“Oh nothing i as trying to climb a tree earlier.”

“I need to put some neosporin on your knee on it and clean it. Go up to your room I’ll be right there.”

“Oh no mom it’s fine I have to go meet dad.”

“No before I clean that scar, you don’t want it to get infected.”

I ran to Brina’s closet, but I couldn’t get in there fast enough.

“Hayden hurry get in the closet.” Brina shoved me into the closet I could hear the worry in her voice, but I wasn’t going to get in the closet mom would notice me. “Come on get in.”

“Sabrina! Step away from the monkey. Come here. Now. Close this door and step outside.”

My mom looked me in my eyes and walk out closing the door behind her. I thought maybe she had some sort of reversing serum, but she returned with some sort of gun.

“Look, I told you in the lab to leave my family!” I jumped up and down trying to get her to notice that it was me. I walked closer. “Back up! she shot the liquid at me but I jumped back to fast. “Slick one huh?”

“Mom stop Brina yelled!”

“No it was trying to hurt you!” She shot it again and it hit me! I slowly turned back into Hayden, the boy. I could see the regret in her eyes. “My son, my son!” She ran over to me and held me in her arms. I looked up at her then my eyes closed. And I was gone.

I’m a 16 year old high school student, currently going through a large budget cut along with 1,000’s of other students in the Philadelphia School District. In the midst of this havoc I’ve have learned things that make me forget the lack of hope our state has for our education. Mr. Block, my 39 year old English/ History teacher plays a pivotal role in this experience. In his classes he has allowed words not to only stain our pages, but our perspective on life. Starting off the year with descriptive pieces, language essays, to creating dance pieces, no matter what the style Mr. Block has allowed our creativity to be catharsis.

Poetry

“Little hips swish as her fate crashed into a hoop”

(Above is a link to my poems)

We began a new unit with a name I know far too well, poetry. Something I believe a classroom could not teach, instead it must be naturally instilled in a person. But I proceeded learning many different styles, one in particular was my favorite, abstract. When using the abstract style you use words to leave your audience questioning the thought or story you were trying to portray, depending on the audiences perspective. Mr. Block had us write a number of poems all of which we used different style. Throughout this unit I had the chance to display my musings and share them with my fellow classmates. This had to be one of my favorite units. The only way these poem could be written was after I used my creativity to speak of things I never would speak of, which is a reason why I love abstract so much. It allows you to say what you mean without having to say it.

Playwrights

Refuge

(Above is a link to my play)

Then there came this lady Kate McGrath was her name, energetic, whimsical, and determined to haul a play out of us. I was very excited to write an extensive piece of work and be able to call it mine, but then the actual work kicked in. Long hours of thought to come up with creative dialogue that only covered about half  of page. The long editing process along with the lengthy emails kate had sent us with some ideas on how to better our pieces. I was tired and I wanted to give up. Then came the Playwrights retreat, there I met some amazing playwrights and other students who were trying to better their plays. We read each others plays and I received some amazing feedback, had an awesome lunch, and exchanged some numbers. This made me push myself to conclude my play. Then May rolled around, it was time to submit my play and I had no idea on how to bring it to an end so I thought. I used everything I had learned from Kate, Mr. Block, and the playwrights retreat, but I had to allow my creative juices flow and there it was. My ending.  

Modern Day Slavery

Sweatshop Trial

(Above is a link to my sweat trail)

I shop a lot in places where the source laborers are hidden, for example one of my old favorites Forever 21. Well, this use to be a franchise build on sweatshop labor, using undocumented immigrant to make our clothing. Paying them less than minimum wage and turning a blind eye to their undocumented selves, yet ratting them out if an inspector would make a visit. While also making them work in unsafe conditions sometimes abuse would be form of consequence. Later on we watched a documetrary of a few women who worked in Forver 21’s sweatshop and watched them struggle to gain their justice. At the end of the movie they accomplished their goal they forced Forever 21’s CEO to pay them more and better their working conditions. Later we had a trial to get to the source of this injustice. Using five real life criminals, the consumers, the system, ruling elite, workers, and the corporations. The consumers are us, the ones who purchase these articles of clothing. The system is this idea of money over people, which is a pretty skewed theory. The ruling elite are the countries presidents and dictators who allow these companies to abuse their citizens. The workers, well they’re the people who make our clothes. And the corporations are the Forever 21, Gap, etc, who use the citizens to their advantage. After this trial we concluded that the corporations were the guiltiest. This trial made me want to look further into immigration and it led me to this. A documentary that combined art with stories of immigration, they use a butterfly to symbolize immigration and instead of calling it immigration they call it migration. Butterflies migrate. They used their creativity to better the lives of other undocumented migrants, which is pretty cool. Before this trial I have never paid attention to the inferiority placed upon migrants.

Gandhi  

#36

(Above is a link to my Journal entry talking about my views of violence and nonviolence)

Mohandas K. Gandhi was introduced or should I reintroduced to Mr. Blocks History class this quarter. While studying this great man we explored the impacts violence and nonviolence can have on a society. Violence, in my eyes is the easy and vengeful way out of a horrid situation because you lose your humanity to save humanity. Whereas nonviolence allows one to display their humility all the while saving humanity. My class watched the story of Gandhi’s life and how his peaceful movement against British colonizers has helped save the independence of Indians and many others who have followed his ideology. Gandhi used his creative mind to save his country, also relieving himself and his followers of all of the hatred they once had inside of them. This unit helped us move into our colonization unit. In this unit we explored many different countries who were colonized by European Empires and are still being negatively affected today.During our many discussions Mr. Block brought up some truth, he said “ Well aren’t these colonized countries fairly rich?” The class said yes, but a fellow classmate of mine said “ Yeah, they are, but the indigenous people aren’t. They are suffering.” In this journal entry I got the chance to explore this idea #40.

Jarvis Jay Masters

Masters Section 1

Masters Section 2

Masters Section 3

Masters Section 4

(Above are links to Masters; autobiography)

Our Last unit was used to explore this American paradox of prisoners to wealth. “The United States has less than 5% of the worlds population ,but has almost a quarter of the worlds prisoners. What’s even more skewed than these statistics are the people who make them. A black man is more likely to be apprehended for a longer period of time or apprehended at all longer than a white man. Racism? I thought this issue had already been swept under the rug of injustice.

Then we explored one man’s journey on death row named Jarvis Jay Masters. He was a troubled kid in and out of prison system since he was a child. On June 8, 1985 Jarvis was sentenced to death, he was accused of sharpening a knife that was used to kill a prison guard. Masters did not kill the guard, he was accused of sharpening the knife that had killed the guard. Weird, huh? So Mr. Block had us read some part of Master’s autobiography, and answer a few thought questions here. Masters used his creativity to write this book which was cathartic for him. He allowed his situation to be a creative piece instead of being another accounted for statistic.

This unit  has also answered my question of where our 250 million dollars cut in our school budget  is going, a large portion or all of that money is going to prisons.

Creativity is cathartic. When one creatively relieves themselves of the things they bottle up inside they create something that they can not only display for themselves, but share to the world and can possibly help someone else. The reason why I say creativity is cathartic is because everyone does not believe that everything thing is art. But creativity is everything, the way we walk talk, walk, and write are creative because we are all original.

Guffaws

“J...J-J-J-Jalisa” I said her name like a car trying to stop from sliding on ice.

Ashley Spells & Bryanna Jones .

Spanish Proyecto

5-2-12

Ashley- Mesera(Waiter)

Bryanna- Cliente(Customer)

bryanna & thomas walk in to savon for a date

penolpe sits them down
penelope : welcome to savon ( bienvenida to savon)

*seats bryanna and thomas*

Ashley(mesera) : ¡hola! mi nombre es Maria srta. que tal ?

Bryanna:Muy bien, pero tengo MUCHA hambre

Thomas:muy bien

ashley : ¿que le traigo?

Bryanna: Pueesss... aver, yo quiero una hamburguesa,papas fritas, un coca cola, y mostaza. Es todo

ashley :  bueno.

Ashley:y tú?

Thomas:agua. Es todo

* 30 mins luego*

*ashley : aquí tiene !

Bryanna:¿Qué es esto? ¿un el pelo? ewwwwww

ashley : lo siento srta

*2 mins later*

ashley :¡ buen provecho!

Bryanna: *comida* Mesera

ashley : aquí tiene

thomas : no , let me pay.
byanna :  :)) , bueno

thomas : lo siento , bryanna … no tengo nada de dinero !

byanna:¿Qué es esto?

Bryanna: *takes out money to pay* Aqui.

ashley *opens check book*

thomas: gracias

Bryanna ¡No,denada!