Muni's blog

Co-authored by Frindle

Zadie Smith begins and ends her novel, NW, with each half of a friendship. The novel opens with Leah, grown up and on her own, listening to a radio that at some point mentions what it is to define oneself. The novel closes with Keisha (now Natalie), going through an existential crisis. A large portion of the middle of the novel is devoted to the events that lead to the beginning and the end of the novel, toward the adulthood of these characters. In this way, the book appears to almost grow from the inside out, which parallels the theme of existentialism throughout the novel. Existentialism is the idea that one is defined through one’s own actions; what one chooses to do internally is observed by an “Other,” who then is able to define the other. In this way, one cannot be defined without an Other (in this case, a close friend). When one loses their Other, they also lose a large part of their identity and fall into despair, which leads to an existential crisis. This can cause one to try to find meaning in sources apart from their Other or to abandon the search for identity completely.

Last week, I (co)wrote my paper through the lens of existentialism about the relationship between Leah and Natalie/Keisha.

After getting feedback from Mark, I've decided to refocus the lens to form a sharper picture, by expanding the lens to incorporate Kirkegaard's view of existentialism. In doing this, I'd also like to form a more complete image of both Leah and Natalie not only in their relationship, but also as individuals. 

Co-authored by Frindle

Zadie Smith begins and ends her novel, NW, with each half of a friendship. The novel opens with Leah, grown up and on her own, listening to a radio that at some point mentions what it is to define oneself. The novel closes with Keisha (now Natalie), going through an existential crisis. A large portion of the middle of the novel is devoted to the events that lead to the beginning and the end of the novel, toward the adulthood of these characters. In this way, the book appears to almost grow from the inside out, which parallels the theme of existentialism throughout the novel. Existentialism is the idea that one is defined through one’s own actions; what one chooses to do internally is observed by an “Other,” who then is able to define the other. In this way, one cannot be defined without an Other (in this case, a close friend). When one loses their Other, they also lose a large part of their identity and fall into despair, which leads to an existential crisis.

While reading NW, I found the friendship between Natalie/Keisha and Leah very intriguing. They started out doing everything together, not because of common interests but because of the "dramatic event." Gradually, they grow apart, but throughout the course of the novel it appears as if they're rekindling their friendship. I also found myself curious about how Leah sees their relationship versus how Natalie/Keisha sees it. Both of them seem insecure about being around the other, but for different reasons. I'd like to explore the course of their friendship and the direction it's headed in at the end of the book.

I love to play. Signing up for Emily Balch Seminars, the word “play” immediately caught my eye. My initial concerns about the class were that the play I’d encounter in the course wouldn’t be actual, fun play, and that the writing I would have to do would feel forced. Thankfully, the trips into Philadelphia that I’ve been on have felt genuinely fun and playful. I’ll admit, the writing sometimes does feel forced. I think part of it comes from a bit of confusion on exactly what the prompts are asking me to say. At first, the prompts seem vague and long, with somewhat of a disconnect between the multiple questions of each one. Only once I’ve written quite a bit have I discovered what I actually want to say. I think that that strategy is one I will end up utilizing a lot in writing throughout my life, and I like that the prompts with their vagueness have put me in a position where it is something I can practice. The class has also been helpful in sharpening my exploration skills. I’ve enjoyed seeing different types of neighborhoods combining to make the city into a whole. 

There is something defiant about Isaiah Zagar’s mosaics. Cities are built for efficiency, functionality, but not necessarily beauty. Yet, around South Street, a glimmer of light in the gap between two buildings could mean a mosaic of mirrors and color. Zagar’s art is a street intervention, playfully ignoring Philadelphia’s figurative and literal grids to bring subversiveness and spontaneity to its streets. 

Zagar’s mosaics are inherently spontaneous. He doesn’t always plan ahead where his next mosaic will be, what it will look like, or where he will get his materials. Many of his mosaics spill across alleyways and onto the back walls of houses, creeping along fence lines as if they’re no longer in the artist’s control. The mosaics fill cracks in alleys with seemingly random words and images. Looking at a map of Zagar’s mosaics is not like looking at a map of a typical art gallery. The mosaics make no distinctive pattern and many do not even appear on the map. In the magic gardens, the route you take is not restricted to a path. Zagar’s art defies the city’s nearly symmetrical grid pattern in its meandering nature. The art is there “to disrupt the everyday actions in the city” by giving people a chance to think for themselves about what it could mean (Flanagan 14).

1. I read the article entitled ''Gliders' allow look into ocean's depths.' It didn't have much to do with Philly, but it looked very interesting. I'm interested in water and people's interactions with it, so I used that idea to connect the article to Philly.

2. I googled "research activities on the Delaware River," curious to see if there are any research projects going on around the Delaware. Apparently, there's some research on shortnosed sturgeons: http://www.nero.noaa.gov/prot_res/research/doc/CurrentSNSResearchActivities.pdf

Although this was interesting, it still wasn't quite connecting with the city. 

3. I found the website for the Delaware River waterfront to see if there was anything interesting surrounding the river. http://www.delawareriverwaterfront.com

4. I clicked "Events," then looked for events on saturday, because that's the day I have the most time this weekend.  

5. I clicked "Rivercity Festival" because, well, who doesn't love a festival? It sounded playful. http://www.delawareriverwaterfront.com/events/rivercity-festival

6. I clicked "More Info" to see the site of the Fishtown Rivercity Festival

http://www.rivercityfestival.org

It turns out that the festival is to celebrate the culture and community in the neighborhood of Fishtown, and the history and vibrancy of the neighborhood itself. Visiting it would be a chance to interact with some real Philadelphians in a really neat area.

 “Artists make words touchable, create palindromes, do street intervention, and even skywrite from airplanes to disrupt the everyday actions in the city.” Flanagan, 14

There is something defiant about Isaiah Zagar’s mosaics. Cities are built for efficiency, functionality, but not necessarily beauty. Yet, around South Street, a glimmer of light in the gap between two buildings could mean a mosaic of mirrors and color. Zagar’s art is a street intervention, playfully ignoring Philadelphia’s figurative and literal grids to bring a different dimension into its streets. 

Zagar’s mosaics are inherently spontaneous. He doesn’t always plan ahead where his next mosaic will be, what it will look like, or where he will get his materials. Many of his mosaics spill across alleyways and onto the back walls of houses, creeping along fence lines as if they’re no longer in the artist’s control. The mosaics fill cracks in alleys with seemingly random words and images. Looking at a map of Zagar’s mosaics is not like looking at a map of a typical art gallery. The mosaics make no distinctive pattern and many do not even appear on the map. In the magic gardens, the route you take is not restricted to a path. Zagar’s art defies the city’s nearly symmetrical grid pattern in its meandering nature. 

André Cadere was an artist in the 70's who created pieces called "Barres." They were a series of small wooden cylinders painted bright colors, then glued together into long sticks. Cadere carried the sticks around France, Germany, and New York, interacting with people on the streets and subways, and even leaving the pieces in the galleries of other artists. The Barres could be displayed leaning up against a wall, on the floor, and in numerous other ways. His works were very playful in that the colors on his Barres were arranged in a pattern, except for one anomaly. The cylinders were visibly cut and sanded by hand, and some of the glue could still be seen in the borders between them. After Cadere’s death in 1978, his Barres became less playful, because he wasn’t around to interact with them anymore. Part of their appeal came from how he defied the traditional ways of displaying art, and the spontaneity that came with that

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