The Commons: Art vs. Abuse

Brennan Hart

Donnell/Stogdill

City of Angels

September 24, 2015

Roundup Post for September 25

What is art? That’s the question I heard Terra ask ironically during our feedback of the Spring Street Bridge tableaus. As defined by Dictionary.com, art is “the quality, production, expression, or realm, according to aesthetic principles, of what is beautiful, appealing, or of more than ordinary significance.” I think our class can agree that the graffiti we found beneath the bridge is considered art: it was aesthetically pleasing and seemed to hold actual meaning or value. For some, it was the feeling of being welcomed to a unique space amidst the drudgery of concrete government structures. For others, the graffiti was a visual representation of the individuality of Angelenos, even when lost in a city of almost 4 million. Either way, we decided that most of the graffiti added something positive to the setting.

Meanwhile, Mr. Donnell brought up an opposing thought to this idea. The theme for the last lab was ownership, and previously we talked about our personal responsibility to keep public spaces maintained as they were. After our “Tragedy of the Commons” mishap, we finally figured out that abusing whatever was not considered our own (or anything purely in self-interest)  would lead to a collapse of the system. Over the last few urban labs there have been different examples of this: leaving trash on the mountain, spray painting what wasn’t ours to spray paint, empty bottles left by the river, etc. Most people condemned these actions and ultimately made a strong argument that it is the individual’s job to uphold “the commons.” So how does graffiti differ from the rest of what we have criticized?

In my own experience, I felt more connected to LA when I saw what others had left behind. I would not go so far as to be happy about litter, but I definitely appreciated the tags others had left behind. Although not scenic murals or specific illustrations, the graffiti that covered the walls by the railroad tracks was awesome. Part of the hype was probably that my group had hopped some fences getting down to the river, so we already felt a little badass, but the overwhelming sense was feeling like part of something bigger than ourselves. We had gone underneath the bridge adjacent to the Spring Street one, which felt almost like a secret clubhouse. The railroad tracks casually suggested a Stand By Me scenario, while the Spanglish tags alluded to the many cultures of Los Angeles. Empty spray cans littered the floor, as did shards of glass bottles, like seaglass without a beach. I was lucky: picking up a random can, there was a tiny bit of yellow paint left--just enough to write the letter B in a rare, unpainted section of the wall. Although the simple letter paled in comparison to the fancy lettering and vibrant energy of the rest of the graffiti, I was left feeling like I had somehow collaborated with the rest of the city.

Now, I guess I am part of the problem: abusing the commons for my own gain. Was it wrong for me to add my mark? Even further, at the end of class today, I started to think about personal responsibility as a larger whole. To what extent to do we owe the community? Where do we draw the line? If the world is the commons, are we being ignorant shepherds? Maybe that is too harsh, but people seem to have a weak sense of obligation when it comes to bettering our world. Or perhaps, they have already tried and failed--after all, “the convergence of dreams leads to a nightmare.”

Vanished

William Dean
Donnell/Stogdill
City of Angels
September 17, 2015

Friday Roundup for September 18

I stepped out of the van, standing in awe in front of the foothills of the San Gabriel mountains. Once handed the assignment sheet Jake and I sprinted up the trail, thrilled at the prospect of adventure. Within a few short turns onto alternate "trails" we found ourselves completely consumed by nature. Soon Conor and Annie caught up right before we came upon a scene of displaced concrete tattooed with explicit and vile graffiti. Within a few seconds medical marijuana containers were found among a variety of soda and alcoholic bottles. Stumbling over pipes and trash we attempted to run away from the poisons that suffocated that place. That idea of unbound exploration re-entered our minds as we ducked under trees, stepped over logs, and pushed through bushes, until we came upon a hill. Jake spotted deer tracks leading up a small dirt path, undisturbed by human foot. So we climbed up the hill which seemingly only grew steeper and steeper until we hear a shuffle nearby. I turned sharply to find a young deer nibbling at a bush. We saw a real living animal just feet away! It was incredible! Who knew that something besides humans could survive in such a contaminated wasteland? We continued on. After surviving miniature rock slides, swinging branches, and the uncomfortable climate we made it to the top of the foothill. After a deep breath I opened my eyes towards the mountains expecting a nice view of the mountains, but instead my gaze was blinded by endless telephone poles and wires streaming across the range. I turned around in panic only to find a beautiful cloud of smog covering a once luscious valley filled with houses and skyscrapers. After a while I found some peace, and began messing around on the hilltop. Looking back on it I now realize the freedom that that hill eventually provided me. As I ran around in the chaparral, my mind was completely cleared of all the thoughts of exams and assignments that corrupted it. The wild is no place for stress and anxiety, it is a place of relaxation and cleansing. I was freed mentally and physically. I finally wasn't caged inside a four walled classroom. And now as I reflect back on that amazing day, I wonder how we could let such a beautiful place of freedom and relief be continuously polluted by our own kind?

In class we discussed what we all felt as we wandered through the hills. Words like freeing and relaxing were mindlessly intertwined with words like polluted and contaminated. These foothills that used to be flourishing with life is being cut through by trails like daggers. Poles and stairs infect the once fertile soil beneath. The mediterranean plants that attempt to grow have been burned by the acid that floats through the air. Maybe in order to protect itself the mountain creates these disasters that we read of. The mountains embrace us still today, but are on the verge of collapse due to our betrayal. If we can see the suffering of the mountains, and the power that they hold, why don't we mend the wounds that we have created? Why do we continue to implant telephone poles and cables in the belly of the hills? Why do we continue to pile layers and layers of useless toxic cement over the nurturing soil? Why do we continue to litter in the very place that brings relief and joy to thousands of visitors? Why don't we remove our involvement and let this sanctuary be free of our pollution so that we can continue to feel free, and continue to have a place of joy and cleansing? Our job shouldn't be to create paths and stairs along the mountain, it should be protecting it from the very entities that try to cage these mountains. In order to free ourselves and our minds from the stresses and problems of our lives, we must free the mountains of the structured cell that we have surrounded it in.

The Vanishing Stones and the Flaws in Educational Philosophy

Sean McMahon
Donnell/Stogdill
City of Angels
September 10, 2015

Friday Roundup for September 11

“Where did all the good stones go, and all simplicity?” (Steinbeck 129).

Procrastinating as usual, I found myself reading hastily this Monday, trying desperately to knock out the last 500 pages of East of Eden. I picked a good spot for it, looking out at a seemingly endless expanse of water in Toronto that people tried in vain to convince me was a lake and not in fact the ocean. I was not, however, very pleased. In an act of poetic justice, or possibly just cruel irony, the universe presented the question above to me on a beach with the best skipping stones that I have ever encountered. I love skipping stones, and I often make a point to search through a whole beach in order to find just one passable stone to skip. So, when I was presented at once with a passage lamenting the scarcity of stones and a veritable treasure trove of skippable stones that I did not have the time to skip, I remarked to myself caustically about the legitimacy of summer reading.

Now some might think, “Didn’t you do this to yourself? It is summer reading after all.” Yes, yes I did. However, if we ignore my feelings on summer reading as a construct (I’m not a fan), know that there are many more valid examples out there, many self-rounding opportunities denied to Poly students based on workload, while they are concurrently lectured about the importance of being well-rounded. In that vein, I’d like to explore the axiomatic principles behind schooling seniors, who are recognized by most to be intellectually mature. As far as I can see, there are three possible definitions of this education. Maybe it is a means to an end, a way of perfecting skills needed for application in college and/or life. Maybe it is an end on its own, a place to apply what we have learned and perfected earlier in life. Or, on the other end of the spectrum, maybe it is a barrier to intellectual progress. The last seems invalid on a daily basis, but few of my peers would dispute the assertion that school has, at one point or another, not only proved unproductive but counterproductive.

So, the correct definition of a senior education at Poly is likely a combination of the three. But where does it lean? It depends. I know how helpful that response sounds, so let me expand. I think we have so many choices between and within subjects this year that it would be silly to unite them under a common pedagogy or definitional purpose. City of Angels seems to me like an end. We don’t read texts in class; we are not smothered by excessive or fatuous work (at least not yet…); indeed, we almost unfailingly focus on analysis, on application. Unfortunately, it may well be the exception to the rule. Still, despite our age or (more importantly) our competence, we are pushed by a drive for rigor into a bottleneck of aimless or pedagogically unsound assignments. It’s a rite of passage, the final fiery trial before we are sent into the world and, for many, into the waiting arms of yet another academic institution, but, while reading on the beach, I could not help but to wonder whether this intellectual traffic jam is truly necessary.

I don’t know whether I am expected to end this entry with questions, so I’ll put in a few to cover my bases. Where do your classes fall on the intellectual stimulation spectrum mentioned above? Are there any other issues within our educational philosophy? Are the problems that I’ve mentioned and those that you have considered immutable? If so, why? If not, what can be done to change them, and who must be involved?