Free “Free Beer”
Scenario: Traditionally counter-culture group decides to put on show, Whitworth administration objects to show because of advertising.
No, not not that show. No, not that counter-culture group. Or that one, or that one.
Yeah, it’s a pretty common scenario, but this time with a whole new cast of characters.
Meet the senior art students. As art students, they’re always up for trying something different. Trying to be interesting. They’re, how-you-say, artsy. For sure, the goal of much of art is to do what has never been done in art before.
So when it came time for the senior art students to name their senior art show, the eschewed such typical art show titles. They didn’t go with, for example, “Obsolescence” or “Meaning” or “What lies Beneath” or even something uber-pretentious like: “*”
Instead, they called they decided to call the climax of their Whitworth artistic career “Free Beer.”
To me, it’s a genius name. It’s super highbrow meets super lowbrow. It’s using the dialect of Frat to market something the furthest from it. It promises something it cannot possibly deliver — something every one knows — but does so with a purely straight-face. It’s intriguing. It’s clever. As titles go, it’s downright applaudable.
Unfortunately, others didn’t find it as amusing as I did. The senior art students were told by both Administration and Art Department that, if they pursued their title, Whitworth and the Art department would not support them. They wouldn’t mention the show in any publication, they wouldn’t advertise it. (There’s a question if, according to policy, they would be able to advertise at all) Why? A few reasons. The Title might confuse donors and parents. The Title was “immature” and “high-schoolish.”
You can have your little art show, they said, but don’t expect us to let anybody know about it.
In one sense, I applaud Whitworth for discovering that they can allow something without sponsoring it. For something completely edgy, for something crackling controversial, it’s a good compromise: Allow it to continue, but don’t officially support it. A good solution all around.
Except “Free Beer” isn’t really that edgy. Does it imply that Seniors (all who are older than 21) enjoy drinking alcoholic beverages? That’s one possible interpretation. But even if so, is that such a horrible thing?
There’s nothing the implies drinking to excess. There’s nothing to imply underage drinking. It’s an asterisk away from mentioning, that, no, free beer will not actually be served. Making it obvious.
The very mention of “Free Beer” is only offensive to the least prudent of prudes, the type that comes from the school of theology that believes that Jesus turned water into Crystal Light. That the very act of fermentation is an affront against all that is holy.
Anonymous? Please.
A trend seems to have taken over the comments in the Whitworthian lately. And no, I’m not talking about the tendency toward annoyed or even furious tones. I’m talking about the habit of commenting using a false name.
What amazes me in particular is how these commenters seem to think they should be taken seriously. Why should we listen to what you have to say when you refuse to even attach a name to your work?
I could understand why a commenter would feel the need to disguise their identity when expressing their feelings on something that a future employer might find questionable, such as, say, the legalization of marijuana or a secret affection for NAMBLA (ew). But an article dissing on sweatshirts? Really, guys?
The readers of James McPherson’s blog have the courage of using their real names while they debate politics. I think Whitworthians can afford to be honest while snarking over whether someone’s gotten their research right.
War On Rock
My roommate and I have always maintained that Warren must be a hidden enclave of interesting people. This myth of ours has perpetuated, as we’ve only lived on the other side of campus and met very few Warrenites.
So, desiring to prove our theory, we went to Warren’s version of Mock Rock, dubbed War On Rock, on Feb 26. Each hall had planned a song and dance routine, and would compete the way freshmen from different dorms do during Traditiation. My roommate and I even decided which hall we’d say we were from if any suspicious Warrenites questioned our presence there. (Needless to say, we later found out that 1st West is a guys’ hall. Whoops.)
We enjoyed the first few routines. Matching t-shirts, and more songs than I thought existed about hot dogs made it an impressive beginning. We were patting ourselves on the back for finally proving our mystery of Warren theory true.
Then 1st East took the stage.
It began with a traditional scene of two guys competing for a guy in a wig. As reflected in reality, they had a dance off to win her heart. When one did, the two lovers danced with joy until, in a particularly dramatic dip, her wig fell off.
Apparently this type of deception is a capital offense, as the previously victorious Romeo expressed disgust and mimed barfing.
If it had ended there, I would’ve passed the incident off as a typical reaction to a switch in gender roles. Sadly, it did not.
Romeo motioned for his former rival and the group of tough looking guys in the background to join him, and they proceeded to mime violently beating up the jilted boy on the floor. This was no Disney channel beating; they were really wailing on him.
I was absolutely astonished. My roommate and I looked back and forth at each other, to verify that this was really happening.
As the thugs ran off, a girl comes skipping along with a flower. She gives it to the beaten up boy, and they go skipping off into the future. Once again, heterosexuality cures all ills!
I understand that we all come from very different places, and have different experiences with gender roles. This was offensive on so many levels, and no one around us seemed to notice.
Acting out a hate crime is not funny.
We couldn’t stay, in all good conscience. My roommate and I left, let down at what we’d seen represented by a dorm that had previously been a beacon of mystery and interest to us, but mainly shocked and offended.