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March 19, 2020 - Image 10

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Text
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The Michigan Daily

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Thursday, March 19, 2020 — 4B
b-side
The Michigan Daily — michigandaily.com

I’m terrible at keeping journals. I admire

their purpose, but I can never keep up with

the commitment. I always stop to doodle and

quickly get sick of hearing myself talk about

the same things over and over.

Despite the distracting nature, I’m still

fascinated by the concept of tracking growth

over time. Some of my favorite artworks are

those that do exactly that – without a clear

end goal. Instead of developing an art piece

based on an argument the artist wants to

make, these works develop a framework for

creating and let time take the reigns. Maybe

the piece does make an argument, but it

appears organically as the work incrementally

changes. It’s not the driving force. It’s time-

based, but instead of the “time as a medium”

mindset of other “time-based” art forms like

film or performance, this type of work invites

the force of time to be a co-artist.

Bre Boersma’s 2018 Sunrise Trek project is

a great example of this. Every morning for a

summer, Boersma woke up at 5:45 a.m., took

a picture of the sunrise and created a color

palette of it. The framework is simple, but

the results are intriguing. You can take a lot

of conclusions from this work if you want –

maybe we should wake up earlier, maybe we

should appreciate sunrises more, but it’s not

about the conclusions. It’s about the process of

letting forces beyond our control drive what

we make.

There’s a concept that information designer

Giorgia Lupi calls “data humanism,” which

champions the collection and visualization

of subjective, complex and personal data. She

makes highly rendered, sprawling depictions

of gathered information that take time to

interpret. Every one of Lupi’s graphs needs a

key. Her infographics are beautiful, yes, but

their delight goes beyond aesthetics. They’re a

way of telling a story by inviting the listener to

look closely and put together the pieces.

But not just any story. It’s always a

personal story, as benign as showing every

instance Lupi looked at a clock in a day and

as emotionally heavy as representing the

daily experiences of a child with a serious

illness. Lupi knows and embraces the fact that

these works cannot help but be subjective.

That’s what communication is: a flawed

interpretation and subsequent representation

of a subject. We unavoidably filter everything

we say, show, write and express through our

own viewpoints. That’s what art is, too.

At a young age, I switched from keeping

journals to sketchbooks. I’ve got piles of them

at home, going back to when I was seven

or eight years old. A lot of the sketches are

embarrassing to look at now, and I probably

won’t ever show them to anyone else. But

I’m glad I kept them. It’s a record of change

that I never could have predicted, both in

the development of artistic skills and the

development of my own personality.

I can track my growth over time, from

drawing princesses as a child up through my

emo comic book phase as a teenager. I can

look through these drawings and pinpoint the

moment I decided to go to art school. I have

nearly 50 sketches of the same friend over the

course of four years, showcasing not only my

friend’s rapidly-changing haircuts, but the

way our friendship changed over time.

The University of Michigan Museum of Art

has a piece by Felix Gonzalez-Torres called

“Untitled (March 5th) #2” which consists of

two lightbulbs, cords intertwined, affixed to a

wall. Either of the lightbulbs can go out at any

time. One of them will always go out before the

other, but the artist and the museum have no

control over when that happens. It’s a simple

but profound framework where the outcome

is determined by time.

Gonzalez-Torres
made
this
piece
in

response to the AIDS crisis after the 1991

diagnosis of his lover, Ross Laycock. It’s one

of many lightbulb pieces he made in the years

after, a way to deal with ideas of connection

and mortality in a time of hurt and uncertainty.

Right now, we’re also living through a

time of uncertainty. No one knows exactly

how our days are going to progress or how

life will change. It’s set a lot of people’s lives

and art goals into limbo – canceled shows

and lack of access to materials and equipment

can be a major setback for professional and

amateur artists alike. But rather than be

consumed with frustration at the roadblocks

to other projects, there’s another option: Start

something new.

You don’t have to set up a time-consuming,

complex framework. You don’t have to know

how or when you’re going to end it. There’s

something comforting about starting an art

project without planning the finish. It means

accepting that you don’t have total control

over what happens next.

As someone who revels in careful routine

and planning, it can be worrisome to give up

any control. But you can still set parameters

for yourself. Maybe you photograph all of

your daily meals. Maybe you record yourself

playing a song every day. Maybe you make

color swatches based on your outfits. Maybe

you stick with a tried-and-true journal.

Maybe, if you’re like me, you just set aside

daily time to sketch.

So if you’re stuck in limbo, worrying about

the future, try starting a routine art practice.

Let time work with you, and see what happens

next.

The timeliness of starting
a new, routine art practice

EMILY CONSIDINE

Editorial Page Editor

99U

As weird as it may sound, time travel

is a common topic of conversation in my

family. This is mostly because my sister

just doesn’t understand it. Any time we

watch a time travel movie, we end up

spending hours discussing the logistics

behind the warped chronology that the

characters inevitably go through, and

we usually end up more confused than

we began. In our terms, to accomplish

time travel correctly, there have to be

repercussions for all of the character’s

actions without unresolved or confusing

gaps in the timeline. While I am by no

means an expert in this topic, I’d like to

think that I do know a little bit about time

travel in movies, at least enough to explain

which movies make sense and which ones

don’t.

I’ll
start
with
one
that
doesn’t:

“Avengers: Endgame.” In the simplest

of terms, the movie revolves around the

Avengers venturing into the past to get the

Infinity Stones that control the universe.

But it isn’t exactly a simple concept. The

directors of the film, Joe and Anthony

Russo (“Captain America: The Winter

Soldier”), pioneered an entirely new way of

time travel. Their new method insinuated

that any change a character made to the

past didn’t affect their original future;

rather, it affected a new future. What does

that mean? To be honest, I’m not sure

anyone really knows. The best way that I

could understand it was that any time you

go back in time and change something,

you create a new alternate reality.

This is a fine concept, I suppose, but

only if it’s consistent … and it isn’t. For

one thing, if Steve Rogers (Chris Evans,

“Knives Out”) goes back in time and

lives a life with Peggy (Hayley Atwell,

“Christopher Robin”) — which he does

— wouldn’t that then create an alternate

reality, or an alternate ‘future’? So how

does Old Man Steve show up in the

Avengers’ reality, having lived a life with

Peggy? According to the Russo brothers’s

rules, he shouldn’t be able to. Also, when

Steve and Tony Stark (Robert Downey Jr,

“Iron Man”) go back to the ’70s to retrieve

the Tesseract and Pym Particles, how

is Tony’s father Howard (John Slattery,

“Churchill”) an old man when Peggy, who

is presumably around the same age as him,

appears virtually the same thirty years

after we last saw her? Again, it doesn’t

make sense. I’ll never really forgive the

Russo Brothers for messing with my mind

the way they did with “Endgame.”

“Back to the Future” remains one of the

most iconic examples of time travel and

does it more correctly than “Endgame”

does, but plenty of concepts in that film

remain difficult to swallow, continuity-

wise. Marty McFly (Michael J. Fox, “The

Frighteners”) accidentally goes back in

time, interrupts his parents’ meeting and

has to hurry to reintroduce them to ensure

that he exists in the future. But how do

Marty’s parents and Biff (Thomas Wilson,

“The Heat”) not recognize ‘Calvin Klein’

when Marty himself grows up to look just

like him? Shouldn’t they all remember

the kid that had such a huge impact on

their lives? After all, ‘Calvin’ helped

George McFly (Crispin Glover, “Hot Tub

Time Machine”) and Lorraine Banes

(Lea Thompson, “Howard the Duck”) get

together while ruining Biff’s car with

manure in the process. However, I will

admit that this film did a pretty good job

with time travel, especially considering

the fact that it was such a new idea in the

’80s. Most of the time travel continuity

problems in the “Back to the Future”

franchise stem from the fact that almost

all the time travelling that Marty and

Doc do involves either past renditions of

themselves or the past versions of people

that they know, thus teaching me that if

anyone ever does decide to time travel,

they should not meddle with events their

ancestors were a part of. In fact, if time

travel ever does exist, it should only be

used to passively observe history.

This brings me to my final example

of time travel, the movie that does it the

best … “Mr. Peabody and Sherman.” A lot

of people might overlook this film due to

the fact that it’s categorized as a children’s

movie, but not only is this probably the only

movie I’ve ever seen that has done time

travel correctly, it’s also just an awesome,

entertaining film. Mr. Peabody, voiced by

Ty Burrell (“Modern Family”), and his son

Sherman, voiced by Max Charles (“The

Angry Birds Movie”), use Mr. Peabody’s

invention, the WABAC Machine, to time

travel to important historical events to

teach Sherman about history. This movie

shows that there are repercussions to time

travel that go beyond just getting stuck in

the past, like what happens to Marty. You

could destroy the entire universe with

time travel. This is why, in all honesty,

time travel should just never, ever exist.

There are too many variables and too

many ways to mess up everything. And

there is, unfortunately, no Mr. Peabody

in the real world to save us all when we

inevitably screw everything up when we

try to time travel.

A ranking on time travel:
From the best to the worst

SABRIYA IMAMI

Daily Arts Writer

WIKIMEDIA

B-SIDE

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