Like the characters, not emojis (＠_＠;)

We are all familiar with emojis, the little pictures that communicate what words just can’t. Emoticons, on the other hand, are an often unappriecated art of communication where the icons made of keyboard characters are put together to resemble an image. Emoticons create a platform where user creativity shines.

Emoticons vary drastically in look, mostly due to their origin. Western emoticons are read horizontally and come from America and Eurpope, like the classic 🙂 . Eastern emoticons come from mostly East Asia and are read vertically, like (ヽ´ω`). To increase complexity and create compatibility with Western keyboards, users often combine the styles. Like  <(o_o<) or (T_T). The Cyrilic alphabet is often incorporated too: (＃ﾟДﾟ).

To get a gauge on the UC Davis reaction to emoticons, three first-year students spoke about their specific emotions and experiences connected to the icons. Each shared the role emoticons play in their day to day lives.

Cameryn Anderson, an undeclared life sciences major, said she doesn’t use them often. She normally goes for emojis because of accessibility since “it takes a lot of effort to type out a whole face, effort I just don’t have.”

Angie Cummings, an art history major, feels differently. She’s passionate about the subtleties in online communication. 

“I use them everyday, they’re more sincere,” Cummings said. “Like, if I actually want to show someone I’m smiling, I’ll type it out. It’s more genuine than emojis.” 

She listed B-), 😀 and 🙂 as her most frequently used emoticons, but emphasized :/ is her favorite because it says a lot.  

Joelle Page, a psychology major, finds a similar sincerity in the tiny faces, an experience many share. 

“I use them [in place of] a period because actual periods are too formal,” Page said. 

Each student responded to specific emoticons so that readers can understand the reception of the different categories.

\ (^o^)／

Category: Eastern

Anderson is enthusiastic about the face.

“I look at it, and I’m like woo!” Anderson said. “If I had this on my copy and paste where I could access it easy, yeah I’d use it all the time.”

Cummings brought up a very valid point: “It’s a little too uwu, I hate UwU.” 

“UwU,” an emoticon that has come to embody cuteness, is overused and, for that reason, disliked. Page harbors different feelings toward the emoticon. 

“I associate that with people who like K-Pop,” Page said. “On my explore page, K-Pop fan accounts use very detailed emoticons.”

xD

Style: Western

This iconic face was revolutionary for the disgustingly ugly graphic tee industry. Many remember it fondly.

“I think ‘Rawr XD’,” Page recalled. “The scene kids. Positive feelings.” 

Those further from the aesthetic dont have the same happy memories. Anderson said the emoji isn’t really her type.

“It’s a little edgy for me, it makes me feel like I need swoop-over bangs,” she said. 

Cummings was split on her feelings toward the emoticon, admitting that it made her mad, but the association with “the glory days” of middle school was overpowering.

~(_8^(I) Homer Simpson

Style: Unknown 

Too often, emoticons are discredited and not seen as what they actually are: art. This portrait proves it. All three interviewees had very emotional responses to the face, from joyous shrieks to confused rage. Page, initially unsure of what it meant, was amused, once she looked at it sideways, “Wow, I’m in shock. I love it.”

Cummings, a forward thinker, analyzed it like a true art history major. 

“It’s very conceptual,” Cummings said. “Deconstructed like Picasso.”

Anderson was ecstatic.

“She is everything,” she said. “I don’t know what context I would use it in, but she’s a keeper.” 

There is a world of emoticons waiting to be copied and pasted into your Notes app for future use. Each means something different to the individual, each conveys a different unique feeling. But most importantly, they make typing (which is very boring) fun and pretty. <( -‘.’- )>

Written by: Livvy Mullen — arts@theaggie.org

A dystopian fiction: the mockingjay of reality

The “Hunger Games” series gained immense popularity back in the 2010s — so much so that its dystopian fiction has clawed its way into reality. The gore and perverted essence that made the series so captivating may not be so appealing in real life. But if we observe today’s realities, perhaps the “Hunger Games” wasn’t so far from the truth as we once thought. 

1: Tracker Jackers

Recent headlines have succeeded in terrifying and amusing the American public with the absurdity that is the Japanese giant hornet a.k.a “murder hornet.” Native Asian hornets have found their way to Washington state, according to The New York Times.

Besides its two-inch long monstrous body length, the Japanese giant hornet is quite cartoonish. The creature flew right out of The Davis Varsity Theatre’s screening of “Ant-Man and Wasp” and into reality. 

Confession, that’s false. It didn’t fly out of “Ant-Man and Wasp,” but perhaps “The Hunger Games.” Tracker Jackers, larger and stronger genetically mutated wasps, with a sting strong enough to kill. Sound familiar? 

As soon as the headlines of these notorious murder hornets came to my attention, tracker jackers were the first thought in my mind. Both the fictional and nonfictional species seem to be the Superman of hornets — or maybe Lex Luthor. 

The wet and wooded habitat of Washington state is ideal for the hornets. By chance, in the 74th annual Hunger Games which took place in the first novel of the trilogy, the setting of the arena was a wet and wooded environment. Coincidence? I think not!

2: We are the 99%

The dystopian world of Panem is divided into 12 Districts in which a select few hold all the wealth and power while the others gravely suffer. While the privileged Districts are fine dining, the remaining feed off the scraps of the wealthy, confined to their District with no wiggle-room to rise in power or status. 

What a horrifying truth, yes? Take a closer look and you’ll see that this isn’t so different from the current state of America as you might think. The gap between the rich and poor is growing and further deepening into a systematic habit. 

While the rich get richer, the poor get poorer. The one percent of Americans bathing in their wealth is analogous to Districts such as District 1 (must be the lucky number for the rich) with the economic and social disparities magnified by the so-called “gap.”

The extent of this imbalance is so apparent in the novels and films of “The Hunger Games” that perhaps its fictional dystopia opens eyes to the truth right outside our very doors. The problem isn’t restricted to the spine of the book but seeps into the backbone of our society as well. 

3: Blood, Sweat and Tears 

“The Hunger Games” is the biggest reality television show of Panem. It’s like “Survivor” on steroids. Each of the 12 districts pick one girl and one boy (systematic gender binarism, take it or leave it) to compete to the death in an annual “game” broadcast to the public.

Bigger than the Grammys, the annual event is to die for, literally. It romanticizes violence and manslaughter in the form of entertainment and a part of conventional culture. Normalizing such brutality may seem absurd until you realize “Call of Duty: Modern Warfare 2019” was the No. 1 best-selling video game in 2019. 

From a young age, children are exposed to violence from the media. As a result, they may be prone to fear the world around them or behave aggressively towards others. Although there is no tangible comparison to the Hunger Games in real life, this digital age is tiptoeing on a fine line between artificial and natural. 

So while “The Hunger Games” may not be as fictional as once perceived, with real-life tracker jackers on the loose, may the odds be ever in your favor. 

Written by: Sierra Jimenez — arts@theaggie.org

Exploring different television shows, movies that feature LGBT characters, storylines

Television:

“I Am Not Okay With This”

Following the hype of “Stranger Things,” Netflix cast the popular Sophia Lillis to play Sydney Novak, a young teen struggling to cope with the dangers of high school, her sexuality and superpowers. Sydney, who is 17 and lives with her mother and younger brother, struggles to cope with the death of her father after he dies by suicide. 

The show is about representation. It’s about giving young women the ability to see themselves as a powerful character that can be the main character, that can have cool superpowers and be gay.  

“Atypical” (Season 2)

“Atypical” follows Sam, a penguin-loving teenager with Autism, who suddenly decides he’s ready to get a girlfriend. This fun comedy shows Sam’s story as he navigates his way through romance, highschool and dealing with his overprotective younger sister. The show gives an admirable amount of plot to all of the characters in Sam’s life.

“Atypical” was a beautiful Netflix show with a short run of four seasons. Cassey’s story picked up in the beginning of Season 2, and although a lot of her choices were questionable, I found myself more angry with her than favoring her. She gives a new voice compared to the LGBTQ characters we have previously seen. In popular shows, LGBTQ characters are often the ones without any depth, those that are simply “good.” “Atypical,” however, throws away this problematic idea and gives Cassey dimension, allowing her to move the plot forward. 

“One Day at a Time”

The small Alvarez apartment houses three generations of Cuban-Americans. With a spunky grandmother, a divorced mother, a closeted teen and a popular tween, the house gets a little crazy with everyone running around. The sitcom finds itself touching upon modern subjects that most comedies avoid. The divorced mother is a military veteran who, after deployments to Afghanistan, struggles with PTSD, all while her oldest child is struggling to come out to their religious family. 

Elena Alvarez is stuck with a religious Cuban family — quite possibly the worst combination for a lesbian. The show highlights what it means to live in silence when you’re afraid of coming out, not only to a highly Hispanic family with traditional roots, but to a Catholic family with a God who frowns upon homosexuality. The show brings in episodes of Elena having to face coming out to her family, being rejected by people that she loves and being afraid to go out in public with her girlfriend.

LGBT Directed Movies: 

“Other People”

This autobiographical film focuses on the struggle of losing a family member. After breaking up with his boyfriend and having an overall terrible year, David moves back to his tiny hometown to take care of his dying mother. While David deals with his dysfunctional and homophobic family, everyone struggles to cope with the thought of losing a beloved family member. 

The movie is loosely based on writer Chris Kelly’s life after the death of his mother in 2009, when he was four. Kelly was a writer and director for Saturday Night Live. He has received eight Emmy nominations for his work on SNL and wrote “Other People” for the opening at the 2016 Sundance Festival. 

“Paris is Burning”

This 1990 documentary focuses on drag queens trying to make it in New York City. The film speaks to the “house” culture and its ability to provide a comforting sense of community for those individuals who are commonly outcast. The documentary took seven years to make and sheds light on individuals we don’t normally get to see on-screen: gay people of color, drag queens and transgender women as they compete in shows. The film alternates between the colorful lives they portray on stage and candid interviews discussing prevalent topics in drag such as racism, classism and beauty standards in the industry. 

“The Half of It”

When the golden-hearted but dim Paul Munsky hires shy Ellie Chu to write him a love letter, things get a little out of hand. Paul loves the popular Aster Flores, but so does Ellie. In a religious town, the pair of friends find the friendship they never had while Ellie decides exactly who she wants to be. 

Having a slow, non-sexualized lesbian romance is rare. But adding a mixed racial lesbian romance is completely mythical. The movie showcases a kind of LGBTQ representation that is not frequently seen. Often, we are given white LGBTQ characters on a silver platter, so a mixed race couple is unspeakable if one of the individuals isn’t white. Lesbian filmaker Alice Wu brings a nice change of pace for young girls who are now able to see themselves in a movie.

“Holding The Man” 

This film, adopted by Timothy Conigrave’s 1995 memoir of the same name, features a 15-year romance between Tim and John, a high school drama student and a star football player who fall in love. Conigrave was an actor, playwright and LGBTQ activist, and his memoir won a Human Rights Award for nonfiction in 1995 from the Australian Human Rights Commission

Director Neil Armfield took this story from the pages to the screen. Armfield connects to this story personally, as he knew Conigrave before he passed. Ultimately, their connection was a familiar one in the LGBTQ community, of friends lost to AIDS. 

“Alex Strangelove”

In this slightly cringe-inducing, coming-of-age movie, Alex Truelove is ready to have sex. He sets out to lose his virginity to his girlfriend, but plans change when he goes to a party and meets a charming boy from outside of town. 

Director Craig Johnson found that Alex’s story reflected his own coming out story. He admits that the tale of the Truelove boy is largely autobiographical and he wanted to shed light on what a realistic coming out story looks like. The movie came out in 2018, but was in the writing process for over 10 years. 

“The Way He Looks”

“The Way He Looks” is a Brazilian film and, like so many LGBT films, a coming-of-age story. The story focuses on Leonardo, a blind teen who wants his independence. His friends help him through school as the love he has for one of his closest friends blossoms. 

The movie is Daniel Ribeiro’s feature debut and is based off the 2010 short film “I don’t want to go back alone.” Ribeiro’s film won the Teddy Award for best LGBT-themed feature. 

Written by: Itzelth Gamboa — arts@theaggie.org

Spheres discusses “Spherical” and the recording, editing process

Experimental musician Nina Spheres, a fourth-year philosophy major, sat down with Arts and Culture Editor Liz Jacobson to discuss their latest project “Spherical,” released on June 30, 2019. “Spherical” fulfills Sphere’s dream of finishing a project — from recording to editing — by themselves. 

“Spherical” tackles solitude and the mind, transporting the listener to another realm, a hypnotic soundscape, which creates a space for self-reflection and exploration. The nine-track album listens like a soundtrack and builds like a crashing wave, full of emotion with heavy synths and deep vibrations (and accordian) throughout. 

This following interview has been edited for length and clarity. 

The California Aggie: Tell me about “Spherical.” 

Nina Spheres: The album itself is a culmination of mostly random musical projects — I didn’t begin recording with any idea of how to mold them all into a cohesive unit. So, in this way, recording was pretty sparse and directionless. Much of this had to do with the fact that my recording is usually done in solitude, with only myself and my own opinions as a reference point. 

This is increasingly common among recording artists today, especially solo artists, and it really is a difficult thing to tackle. The album was my way of tackling that solitude and of finding some sort of direction in my music. It gave me the chance to explore the depths of my mind — much of it is ugly, monotonous. But some of it shines and progresses. It reflects my own ideas and history, as well as a monomania of the recording process. I spent (and wasted) a lot of hours on this music. I’d wake up in the morning, record all day, go to sleep and repeat this, every day, for months. Sometimes it would yield something worth keeping, sometimes it would yield trash, and the album is only the pieces that fit well together.

TCA: Beyond tackling the solitude, what went into the production of the album?

NS: I had friends add in things here and there arbitrarily, but really the album is just myself exploring the medium of recording. My dream at 19 was to make a full album, one that I was at least mostly proud of, without the help of anyone above me in terms of technical knowledge, hence a lot of bad recording quality, bad mixing, mastering, et cetera, because I was learning how to do it all as I went along. 

But it really was a beautiful thing for me because I learned it all myself. In some sense, the album — beyond its content — is also a journal of my work in learning how to conduct this sort of process. It’s helped a lot in terms of connecting with other people because I’m able to use this knowledge to others’ benefit, as well as my own, like The California Aggie’s Couch Concerts. It also piqued the interest of some people at KDVS, and I was able to finally form a group and be comfortable outside of my own head.

TCA: Where did the name Nina Spheres come from?

NS: Nina Spheres, at the time of the album’s release, was just me. I chose the moniker as a way to feel as if someone else was releasing the music. I was really uncomfortable with the thought of other people hearing the stuff I’d been working on. I wouldn’t show the music to anyone over the course of making it, save for one or two friends. 

The “alter ego” helped a lot with this initial release, and it still does now. It’s as if I’m morphing into whatever fictional character is behind that name, and really, it’s a liberating experience. I think many of us need to construct fictional characters out of ourselves in a world that, especially in the United States, has become almost entirely fictional. Music is a way for me to take a colorful, fictional stance on hard, tangible phenomena, and an alternate identity helps with forming that fiction.

TCA: Where do you draw inspiration from?

NS: Inspiration isn’t easy to pinpoint, and I’d like to think that the inspiration is just derived from my place in the world and how I feel about that place and how I navigate it. I don’t take inspiration from a single thing or event, more so from a generalized outlook. I usually choose not to write music about anything, instead just engaging with the act of recording, knowing that something is expressed regardless. 

  It’s up to the listener to try and find some meaning, but really, the music is simply a location in which one can immerse themselves and reflect on their own feelings. I think that — reflecting on oneself through another’s work, rather than concentrating on the artist and their message — is important, and so I try to accentuate that experience with the things I work on.

TCA: How would you describe the sound of “Spherical?”

NS: In terms of sound, I guess there are certain musical ideas that I wanted to explore, such as repetition and drone. These are ways to structure music that I’ve been really interested in for a while now. The hypnotic aspect of repetitive, droning music opens up a space to think in the abstract. I find this attractive in the work of someone like Phill Niblock, who focuses on lengthy, multilayered drone music, which evolves and builds slowly over time. When I listen to his music, I’m carried to this foreign landscape where I’m able to take a fresh perspective on things. I sort of imitate that kind of location in my own music.

That’s the thing, I don’t really think of my music in terms of sound, but instead in terms of location. That location would be somewhere, like, the bottom of a well, in the middle of the desert, or something.

TCA: “Experimental” is a pretty broad term. Do you think that your music fits into a genre?

NS: I call it degenerate, because first off, I don’t really know what I’m doing, and over time I go to great lengths to make my recordings “worse” — empower them by deconstructing them. Lee Perry would urinate on and burn his recordings, and then reuse them, and I think this is the greatest production tactic ever: destruction over production. 

In a world that demands productivity, one way of retaliation is constructive destruction. You’re still being productive, in an artistic sense, but you’re making destruction the dominant ideology in terms of treatment of the material, and that makes for interesting results in music. I also think cinematic experiences are also really valuable; they get ingrained deep in the mind, because of how drawn we are to cinema and cinematic life. 

“Spherical” has a cinematic quality to it, which was in many ways intentional. The genre would be a collection of these aspects, but usually when this happens it gets called “experimental,” even though there’s music out there that’s way more experimental than my own.

TCA: What is your favorite part of the album — a certain song or snippet?

NS: My favorite part of the album is the accordion piece that comes in around three minutes into the first track. This is actually a motif that appears in a few different places during the span of the album. When my grandpa died, his accordion was given to me because no one else in my family plays music. That little riff was the first thing I played when I picked up the accordion — totally at random. It meant a lot to me and still does. It’s a beautiful little thing, and that accordion also appears all over the album.

TCA: What can we expect from Nina Spheres in the future?

NS: Unfortunately, all Nina Spheres operations are again limited to recording, but once the quarantine is lifted, we’ll be focusing our energy on live performance. Before COVID-19 came along, we had a decent run of shows, and we’re really looking to continue doing that, and potentially tour, if we can make it happen. We’re hoping to release another album by the end of this year, or early next year.

Nina Spheres and “Spherical” is available on Bandcamp.

Written by: Liz Jacobson — arts@theaggie.org