ACROSS
1 “The Alphabet
Song” opening
5 Closed
9 Postpone
14 Lemony in taste
15 “__ Lisa”
16 Overjoy
17 *Handy tool to
have when
you’re out of
loose-leaf paper
19 Red-suited
reindeer driver
20 China’s Zhou __
21 Forming a queue
23 Memory aid,
such as
“HOMES” for the
Great Lakes
26 Amount paid
29 *Amulet
34 Sch. in the
smallest state
35 T-shirt sizes, for
short
36 Sound portion of
a movie
37 *Prime ballpark
accommodation
39 *Architectural
style featuring
geometric
shapes
41 Amazed
42 Regret
43 “__ Misérables”
44 *Stand-up venue
48 French father
49 Kids’ show host
with a
“Neighborhood”
51 “Will you marry
me?” is one
55 Flusters
59 Deceived
60 Ostracize ... and
what the first
words of the
answers to
starred clues
comprise
63 Submit tax
returns online
64 Actor Lugosi
65 Sulk
66 Small and
unimportant
67 Cheese from the
Netherlands
68 Winter fall
DOWN
1 Arthur of tennis
2 Timely benefit
3 Select with care
4 Imagined while
sleeping
5 Church-founded
Dallas sch.
6 Luv
7 Clean with
Liquid-Plumr
8 Hummus paste
9 Dry up
10 Vivacity
11 Vampire tooth
12 Caesar’s
immortal “And
you?”
13 Gather in a field
18 Bowler’s target
22 Actor Cage, in
tabloids
24 Austen heroine
25 Milkshake
additive
26 Like Rubik’s
creation
27 Maine college
town
28 Early riser’s hr.
30 1963 Paul
Newman film
31 Dancer Astaire
32 Potato cutter
33 Bullwinkle, for
one
35 Start-up cash
38 Nor. neighbor
39 Cut __: dance, in
old slang
40 Hick
45 1520 and 2015,
e.g.: Abbr.
46 Buster who
played Buck
Rogers and
Flash Gordon
47 Lazed
48 Biblical songs
50 Bobby’s
monogram, in
’60s politics
51 Argued in
court
52 Lower-interest
mtge.
53 Norse war god
54 President when
Texas was
annexed
56 Utah national
park
57 1960s-’70s
Boston Bruins
nickname
58 Hearty dish
61 Pie __ mode
62 Pic taker
By Joel Mackerry
©2015 Tribune Content Agency, LLC
02/09/15
02/09/15
ANSWER TO PREVIOUS PUZZLE:
RELEASE DATE– Monday, February 9, 2015
Los Angeles Times Daily Crossword Puzzle
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Arts
The Michigan Daily — michigandaily.com
HBO
This is what it looks like to limn the yonic curse.
Lena Dunham is
‘Not That Girl’
‘Girls’ creator
explores the female
experience in memoir
By ANDREW MCCLURE
Daily Arts Writer
Better late than never, Lena
Dunham’s first novel works no
less because of its September
release. She brings us a mem-
oir that doesn’t require the new
millennium to render a rele-
vant, timeless in its timeliness,
book we sort of need.
Dunham is neither that kind
of girl nor any type of girl that
we, an educated people, have
seen enough throughout cul-
ture or history to file them into a
“type” to begin with. She’s also
not the voice of a generation,
as much as her onscreen per-
sona Hannah (HBO’s “Girls”)
would like to contend. She’s just
a girl, but a girl unafraid to say
the things 20-somethings of
her, well, circumstances (read:
gender, shape, affluence) won’t.
She’s also unafraid to ironically
choose pink title letters for the
hardcover of her first book,
“Not That Kind of Girl: A Young
Woman Tells You What She’s
‘Learned,’” and to unironically
hang quotations marks around
the subtitled word “learned,”
confessing the very ephemera
of her gleanings.
By now, we’ve heard it all
— the minimal praise, the
diatribes, the diatribes, the
diatribes. But Dunham has
imported
something
much
more important than vapid troll
fodder in her memoir-essays,
“Not That Kind of Girl,” a prin-
ciple so essential as we, the
majority, go forward trying on
various masks to better fit in:
her supreme vulnerability.
I take issue when critics
— people supposedly good at
expressing passion with dutiful
dispassion — mistake Dunham’s
vulnerability
for
pejoratives
like “oversharing” or “self-
important.”
Newsflash:
vul-
nerability can, and often will,
offend. Once her candor show-
ers over you, albeit lukewarm
at first, her riffs on family and
experience are not so blinkered,
but rather expansive.
The prose is divided into five
not-mutually
exclusive
seg-
ments, from “Love & Sex” and
“Body” to “Friendship” and
“Work” to “Big Picture.” These
cabinets are less for organiza-
tion and more for Dunham to,
with probable irony, “cover
all the bases” that a good-girl
memoir should.
She opens her introduction,
“I am twenty-years old and I
hate myself,” pegging at the
same time her darkest and least
relevant line, as the couple hun-
dred pages that follow limn her
ultimately upbeat and tough-
minded anecdotes and mus-
ings. She may have wept during
bits of the production process
but, now, finished, she seems
poised to share some of her
dreck bereft of smelly crowd-
pleasing, with some chapters
markedly weaker than others,
notwithstanding.
Her bite-size reflections and
sprinkled Nickelodeon-like car-
toons not only establish a girl-
ish, journaling aesthetic, but
her lexicon is so tempered that,
really, a little girl could read
it. Not unlike a future Olym-
pic sprinter taking it easy in
P.E., Dunham packs punches
like, “Jared was friendlier than
cool guys are supposed to be,”
wholly cognizant of her dic-
tion before concerning herself
with sounding smart. It seems a
tough pill to swallow for a writ-
er so capable of morphing that
sentence into A Sentence, in all
its erudition.
And her poetics, her unique
voice — this is her most
invaluable asset. This is also
what makes “Not That Kind
of Girl” a good read, a read
that with cogency connects
young women to young men to,
maybe if they’re with the times,
older people. She intuits much
like, selfishly, I did and do:
Describing her heated phone
conversation with Mom over
how she needs her mom “in
a different way than before,”
Dunham
writes,
“‘That’s
fucking bullshit.’ I can tell
she’s in a store.” That hardly
recognizable
pause
between
her mother’s words, the light
background chatter Dunham
discerns,
is
unexceptional,
but opting to include this
afterthought, little yet nuclear,
plays to Dunham’s advantage
all book long.
She’s funny, too, but seldom
in a sidesplitting way. Sidesplit-
ting is for punchlines, but her
book is by and large without
them. She toys with secrets that
are strange enough to credibly
be hers, like the list of things
she’s afraid of at age 8: leprosy,
unclean meat, milk, homeless
people, foods my mother hasn’t
tasted first so that if we die we
die together, et al. Whereas Fey
and Poehler, and their respec-
tive memoirs, are driven by
improv-laden, Harvard Lam-
poon true comedy writing,
Dunham is not a trained comic,
and her book doesn’t read like
one, for the better. Dunham
makes you laugh in a to-your-
self manner, half-pondering her
semi-repressed intellect and
half-envying her honest wit, so
honest that it’s almost not wit
at all.
In her final, appropriately
mawkish chapter, called “Guide
to Running Away,” Dunham
gets the closest to her book’s
beating heart. Of her mother, of
all of our mothers, I presume,
she writes, at age 9, “You are
mad at your mother because
sometimes
she
doesn’t
pay
attention and she says yes to a
question that needs a different
kind of answer.” Then, in the
same vein, but at age 27: “You’re
the one who’s distracted while
your mother tries to talk. you’re
the one who thinks fathers just
need to get through their father
problems.”
Her
growth,
in
mind and body, has manifested
but she, as a smart person
should, stays skeptical in really
knowing anything for certain.
She has come this far — with
the wounds to prove it — not
to create that girl or the girl or
even a girl, but rather her girl,
heading toward womanhood
with all of her idiosyncrasies in
tote, including the prickly ones.
‘Street Art’ doesn’t
make for good TV
By SOPHIA KAUFMAN
Daily Arts Writer
Street art used to be a form
of artistic personal expression,
a rebellion against the Man,
consumerism,
the patriarchy
or
whatever
else the artist
desired.
Art-
ists like Banksy
and
Basquiat
brought street
art
into
the
mainstream,
pushing
the
boundaries
of
pop culture just wide enough to
let street art have a recognized
and respected place within it.
Oxygen’s new show “Street Art
Throwdown” takes the concept
of its raw, organic creativity and
twists it into a reality TV show.
While street art is a newer prem-
ise for a show than some of the
other dime-a-dozen reality series
that focus on fashion or singing,
this show’s dedication to the
strict checklist of reality tele-
vision ensures that it gives the
least amount of screen time to
the most important part: the art
itself.
In the pilot “Welcome to the
Streets,” 10 street artists (six
of whom are women) are intro-
duced, all competing against
each other to win a $100,000
prize. There are two challenges
of each episode; the “hustle”
and the “throwdown,” both of
which are timed. The goal of this
episode’s hustle was to put up a
“tag” (also referred to sometimes
as a throw-up, a general term that
refers to an artist’s personal sig-
nature) on a high-rise billboard.
With a style that mimics that of
“Project Runway” or “America’s
Next Top Model,” the two judges
— Justin Bua and Lauren Wagner
— analyze each tag and critique
them based on originality, tech-
nical execution and style, giving
feedback to the artists in front of
each other.
During the throwdown chal-
lenge, the artists had to navigate
through an underground tunnel
maze to find a good spot to paint
a portrait of someone who has
inspired them. The judges again
walk around asking questions
about each artist’s technique and
inspiration, accompanied this
time by a guest judge, street art
legend Mear One. At the end of
the throwdown, Bua and Wag-
ner chose two competitors who
excelled, two who needed to step
it up and one who had to go home.
As of yet, there are no specific
personal rivalries or cattiness as
is so often characteristic of these
types of programs. The competi-
tor who struggled during the
throwdown challenge received
some free, cheerfully given les-
sons from another competitor
on how to use spray cans, and
when she eventually was chosen
to go home, she also received
hugs from everyone. While the
artists revealed various degrees
of nervousness or confidence
through their interviews and
interactions with the judges,
the judges themselves showed
no emotion whatsoever. Bua in
particular gave the competitors
only a cursory, vaguely dismis-
sive “interesting” on more than
one occasion.
“Street Art Throwdown” has
the potential to focus on some-
thing different that, even though
there are gallery exhibitions and
websites dedicated to it, people
don’t get to see firsthand very
often. The most interesting
part by far is watching the art-
ists work. Seeing the different
styles — bubble or block letters,
expressionist
finger
painting
or quick, fluid movements with
spray cans, bold and obnox-
iously clashing colors or more
traditionally compatible color
schemes and designs — and how
each goes about creating his or
her designs is legitimately fas-
cinating. But the focus on the
art and artists themselves often
felt overshadowed by everything
else: dizzying camera angles, the
race to the top of the billboard,
the night-vision scenes of the
competitors trying to navigate
the tunnel maze and the Hunger
Games-esque battle for supplies
after the clock starts ticking
and, of course, several gratu-
itous shots of the judges’ skepti-
cal looks.
You can watch “Street Art
Throwdown” for the art, and try
to catch the parts that do capture
a bit of intriguing originality; but
you’ll have to filter through the
competitiveness of the players
and the emphasized snark of the
judges first — not to mention the
obnoxious background music.
TV REVIEW
OXYGEN
Is it hot in here, or is it just the paint fumes?.
C+
‘Street Art
Throwdown’
Series Pilot
Tuesdays at 8 p.m.
Oxygen
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