Swings, slides and monkey bars. The perfect childhood dream. Baldwin Park is a place of memories, love and laughter. Every summer when I was a child I would go run around in the sprinklers with my siblings, laughing and playing, after our long bike ride to the park. My mom would sit and watch us from a bench, where we would go after tiring ourselves out and eat her delicious peanut butter and jelly sandwiches. Other days, we would spend hours in the sandbox, only to return home trailing sand behind us. We would ride on the little springy animals, always fighting for the cute little rhino.

As we grew older and became too lazy to walk to the park, we didn’t go as much, but there were still days when I would take my siblings and chase them through the grassy fields before reaching the park gates. And then we would run inside, always a race to the best swing…We would try to “beat” each other by seeing who could swing the highest. My little sister, Angelinna would always jump off, and bruise herself all over the place. Returning home, we’d have to explain to our mom that we didn’t beat her up. The playground did. But she loved it anyway. We all did. Even now, after moving to a different town, with its own park and its own swings, I still would rather go back to our beloved Baldwin Park.

Back to the jungle gym I fell off as a child and busted my gums open on, swallowing cedar chips. Back to the bench on which I had my first kiss. Back to the slide that was as tall as a giant and scary as a monster to my three-foot tall self. Back to every family picnic we had in the fields. Back to the summer days and the cooling fountains. Back to the beautiful fountain in the middle of the park that we always wanted to swim in, but knew we couldn’t. I want to go back.

Now some people may read this, and say, “a park isn’t art.” But really, it is. I mean look at any park, and you’ll see the vivid colors and the beautiful shapes, and the way everything fits perfectly together. Baldwin Park had the biggest influence on our community. It was where little kids learned how to ride their bikes, where rebellious teenagers ran away from home to, where older teenagers and adults took tennis lessons, and where grandparents took their grandchildren to spend the day. Everyone who lives in Baldwin know Baldwin Park by heart: Which path leads where, and which bench not to sit on.

Baldwin Park is always going to be in my memories, the best part of my neighborhood, one of the best parts of my childhood. I’ll never forget it. It was a landmark not to be missed, taking up half of the Harbor. Baldwin wouldn’t be Baldwin without Baldwin Park.

I CARE!

For those of you who were not present for the dialogue leading up to this emphatic remark, I will clue you in on the details. Following a discussion we had in our Freshman Honors Colloquium, a few of us got into a discourse about the effect of a stereotype threat on girls’ performance in math. One person in the conversation didn’t see the big deal in the fact that girls don’t perform as well as boys in math on standardized tests; however, I have strong opinions about this issue as well as many other issues regarding the female’s alleged inferiority to males.

Why do I care? Put simply, I am nothing short of a feminist; a passionate member of the feminist community. But more than that, I am a Jewish Feminist. Although many religions recognize and encourage the subordination of women to men, both my religion and my female activist views are important aspects of my life. I am part of a community of Jewish Feminists.

A piece of art that represents my community is a book written by Anita Diamant, entitled The Red Tent. In this book’s 200+ pages, the author encapsulates the challenges and triumphs faced by the matriarchs of the Torah. The book is the untold stories of the women in the book of Genesis.

Dinah, the daughter of Leah and Jacob, is only mentioned as a footnote in the Torah as a girl who was raped. Other than the statement of this tragic event, she is not mentioned – she is not given a character, personality, or history. Anita Diamant uses both evidence from the Torah, and her imagination, to write a coming of age story about a famous girl in the Jewish Religion. She depicts Dinah’s long wait and eagerness to join the female members of her lineage in The Red Tent each month, as well as the whole story of how she was taken away from her family. When she returns years later to the village in which she grew up, she does not reveal who she is, but asks a couple of the children what they know of Dinah’s whereabouts. They explain to her that Dinah has not been seen – she was raped and never returned. The story told by these children is similar to the footnote in the Torah. According to Diamant, this is how the story in the footnote came to be. In her novel, Diamant also discusses the various marriages of Jacob to his cousins (all of whom are sisters), and other notable events in the Book of Genesis.

This book represents the community of Jewish Feminists, because it gives notoriety to the women of the bible who are all too often forgotten. There is a prayer said during Shacharis (the morning service), known as the Chatzi Kaddish. This is one of the prayers that is different depending on the synagogue in which it is said – there is a version said during an orthodox service, while another version is said during a reformed or conservative service. The difference between the two versions is that in the Chatzi Kaddish chanted during the orthodox service, the matriarchs of the bible are not mentioned. The reformed and conservative sects of Judaism are known for their egalitarian services, while the orthodox services are more traditional with men and women seated separately.

Every time I see someone reading this book, I can’t help but jump out of my seat. It was such an amazing book, and the more people read it, the more fame the women of the bible will gain. From reading this book, you learn more about a couple of stories in the bible; however, it is not told in a dry, dull way, because it includes aspects of Diamant’s imagination, and her quality of writing makes it very enjoyable.

Since the community I live in right now has nothing but food and a bowling alley I am going to write about my hometown Trikala, Greece. There, like most places in Greece, you had a town square or a plateia where everybody would go to hang out. No cars would pass and there were stores all around. Another thing I remember about this place is the statues. When we would go out at night with our parents they would sit and drink with their friends and me and my brother would run off and play by the statues with our friends. Those really were the times I wish I could go back to. I remember having to struggle climbing the statue so I could sit on it with everyone else. Now that I think about it, it is amazing how so many kids could just stroll off and play by themselves at night. The adults were around of course but they weren’t watching us. In a sense, I guess you could say it was a moment of freedom for us.

Greeks are social creatures so to them it’s like heaven to have a place where all they do is socialize, eat, and shop. Every place you go to in Greece, you will find a plateia. And when you have nothing to do you will find yourself taking a stroll down the plateia with your friends and family. You will never find yourself stuck at home with nothing to do because you always have the choice of going out and that’s what I love about Greece and Europe in general.

The plateias in Greece are really important. It is a meeting place for the young and old. You meet new people and encounter old friends just by walking around. In Greece the nightlife is really like being out in the day with the exception of the sun. The plateia transforms into a piece of artwork because it becomes something valuable and priceless in our lives. It really  plays a huge role in the community and the Greek culture.

This is a picture of a fast food place in the plateia at Trikala. It’s called Goody’s and you could say it is the equivalent to Mcdonald’s but really it is a thousand times better. I lived so close to the plateia that I could see it from my balcony. If this picture is old enough you might even spot me in it heheheh 🙂 .

I live my life inside a box.

There is the supermarket where I pick up my junk food every weekend, the doctor’s office that I visit when I’m feeling brave (or desperate) enough, the library where I pick up my books on request, and the mall that I hang out at when I’m not feeling drastically broke.  Rarely do I get out of my box to explore all the wonderful attractions that New York City has to offer.  I don’t even get out of my borough to explore Manhattan a little.  When I do get out, however, I feel like a tourist in my own city.  I get pushed around by the crowds, crane my neck in awe to stare at all the towering buildings, and get so lost that I end up asking tourists for help.  Nevertheless, every trip to Manhattan is a blessing because I get to experience my city more and I get to see what makes it one of the most exciting cities in the world.

Being in Macaulay has especially helped me experience my city because before this semester, I don’t think I ever went outside of Queens for recreational purposes so many times.  Even coming to Queens College has helped me experience Manhattan because during my two or so months here, I have learned that the campus offers a spectacular view of the Manhattan skyline.  As far as I can remember, I never even saw the Manhattan skyline in real life until I came to Queens College.  It struck me so much that I took a photo of my experience for my photojournal.  Since then, every time I walk through campus, I glance across to the skyline.

The Manhattan skyline is an important part of New York City.  Although it may not seem like it, it is truly an artistic masterpiece not to be messed with.  I know this because this summer, I read an article in the amNew York that someone was suing to stop the creation of a building that would change the look of the skyline.  The complaint of the person suing was that the proposed building was so big that it would block out the Empire State Building from the skyline.  I was surprised to read that this was not the first time that someone had sued to stop the construction of a building for the reason that it would mess up the Manhattan skyline.  When you have something that looks as beautiful as this skyline does, however, I can understand why you would want to preserve it.

I think that one reason that people are so adamant about keeping the Manhattan skyline the same is that it is an iconic image that represents New York City.  The skyline features some of the biggest and most recognizable buildings in the world.  When people who are not from New York think about this city, the skyline is the image that they associate with it.  The skyline is the image that they come to New York to witness and the image that they take with them when they leave for home.  This image shows the adventure and excitement that can be found in New York City and how alive our city is.  It is the image people remember New York by.

Every time I look across campus to the skyline, I feel proud of  my city.  “This is where I come from”, I think to myself.  The skyline shows me how beautiful and unique my city is.  It’s not for nothing that New York is such a tourist hot spot, after all.  I also feel an anticipation for adventure that nothing else can make me feel.  Staring at the skyline makes me feel that I hold the world in the palm of my hands, with the strength to shape it to fit any mold I’d like.  It makes me feel like I can take on the world and leave my mark behind for people to remember me by.  Every time I look at the skyline, I suddenly feel like I can’t wait to grow up and become a part of the city.

I feel as tall as those structures that I stare at themselves.

I’ve noticed that I give the same amount of appreciation if not more, to a dance performance than I do an actual work of art (as in painting, drawing, etc.).  A dance has more life, more passion and a more personal touch to it, especially when I can relate to it.  This is the case when it comes to Bolivian folkloric dances.

My sense of community comes from my roots.  I’m half Bolivian and here in New York there is a big community of Bolivians.  To us, our heritage is a work of art; our traditional dances and costumes are celebrated often here.  The entire community supports the many dance groups that practice and perform at parades and presentations because it gives them something to be proud of.  Many see theses dances as memories of their country and memories of their youth.  Our culture is unique, and so demonstrating it is something we love to do.

The process to be able to share these dances is a long one.  It takes a couple of months to learn the steps and moves, it takes even longer to learn the style.  Creativity is a major role that requires all the dancers to give their input for new steps or choreography.  Countless hours and practices are spent perfecting a choreography.  We practice just as hard as any ballet or contemporary dancer.  In fact, on any given day (when the weather is still warm of course) you can see people practicing on the platform leading into Flushing Meadows Corona park from the 7 train.  Several dance groups spend their evenings teaching, learning, and creating steps that they use in parades or in private performances.  The beauty of traditional Bolivian dancing meets modernization by the younger generations, together creating incredible choreographies that show off their skills and creativity.

What completes the masterpiece are handmade costumes brought directly from Bolivia.  These large, complex and heavily decorated outfits take weeks to make and are difficult to ship here simply because of the cost and size.  For example the green dress (see below) is for a dance called Tinkus, which has its roots in northern Potosi, a city in Bolivia, stems from a tradition where neighboring peoples would fight as an offering to the Mother Earth in exchange for a good year.  The costume has evolved into a brightly colored dress for women, with long piece of fabric hanging from the shoulder down to almost the knees, several multicolored belts that hang down, a head piece that goes around your hair, and a brightly feathered hat with ribbons hanging down the back (okay I’m really bad at describing clothing so just see the picture). But seeing a costume design come out of the box and putting it on really makes all of it worth it.  Like this green outfit, was designed by myself and two others; the dress is a standard pattern, but the embroidery on it was drawn out.  When we first got to see the actual dress it was the day of a performance over at LaGuardia Community College for a big presentation for the 6th of August celebration. The dresses were amazing, the color was vibrant and eye catching, and when we performed it felt like we could be seen clearly from the farthest corner of the auditorium.  To someone who just sees one of us walking down the street wearing this green outfit (which happens on days when there is a parade going on) they just give us this weird look (which we are used to already).  We don’t expect everyone to appreciate it, but you know what? You either like it, or you don’t.  Point is, it’s our art, it’s our heritage, and we couldn’t care less if you think we’re strange.

Art is a form of communication that has been passed down from our ancestors from the beginning of time. It is a way that has linked generations and also something that joins various societies today. I feel like art isn’t that endorsed or given much importance to in my Pakistani community. However, I do encounter art in my culture sometimes on T.V, in a magazine, in a newspaper, etc.

One thing that I feel is different for each community is their definition of art. One community may think of art as something created for the purpose of viewing, as an artwork, such as a painting and one community may think of art as something like their daily routine. It all depends on the communities’ culture, values, and traditions. I think my religion, Islam, has had a big effect on how my countries’ people behave. I also think it has affected the way we go about with our daily routine. Therefore, I think the symbol of a crescent and star is something that is considered an art form in my community.

Now I know you might be thinking that a crescent and a star is not an actual painting or “artwork” but the fact that it has always been a symbol of our religion, I think it has a great impact on our remembrance of Islam. This symbol is present on T.V shows, the newspaper, Pakistani stores, and even on our own flag. A simple moon and star may not seem important or valuable to some people, but to Pakistani people it means a lot. It helps remind us of our values and goals in life. It gives meaning to who we are and why we are here. It gives us memories of the Partition between Pakistan and India in the mid 1900’s. Along with all of this, it also helps us understand what our ancestors, and brothers and sisters went through to get us our own independent nation.

Along with political issues, the symbol of the crescent and star also reminds us of our religion. The use of the crescent and star for Islam is controversial because the symbol itself was not associated with it until much later. However, because it has been used for the Pakistani community, we compare it with Islam and its teachings. Religion is stressed in my community and especially back home. There is typically supposed to a “prayer calling” before each of the five daily prayers. In Pakistan, you actually hear this prayer calling throughout the streets and blocks throughout the city. In my particular city, Lahore, you can hear it everywhere. This is just another example of how our religion ties in with our country. Furthermore, the symbol of the crescent and star is found in mosques, stores, and on a lot of different buildings too.

The symbol of the moon and crescent may not be considered art to many people but it is regarded highly in my community. This symbol has sentimental value for people across Pakistan. It gives us hope and something to look forward to when we look back at the history of the country and how we overcame obstacles. The crescent and star represents something that is above us and around us all the time.

To symbolize a melting pot of different cultures and ethnicities is hard to do. Personally, I find it difficult because there is so much to take in and put into one thing. Unless, I find something that is a multitude of pieces, but I have yet to find anything of that sort. Instead, I will deny having one community. Rather….

Je suis un vagabond.. Wǒ shì liúlàng hàn. Na neun bang lang ja da. Ich bin ein Wanderer. Watashi-wa inja-desu. I am a wanderer.

If possible, I would have liked this to be translated to the thousands of living languages around the world. As for now, I am satisfied with these pieces. From that phrase I will explain what I mean.

I am a Wanderer. I am a person. A being. A thing. I am part of a whole, yet I am myself. Everywhere has become my home. It is through food that I have learned about… everything. From Dan Dan noodles to Soondooboo to Pinakbit to Sperkuloos to Schnitzel to Dolmades to Stinky tofu (don’t let the name fool you xD it’s rather delicious) to many others. I surf through the internet, ride the trains, move with buses, traverse the streets, and soar the skies in search of new food and new places to eat food.

Through eating different types of food, I learn more about the other culture and become immersed in it. Sometimes I hear conversations about the history of food or, rather, a person’s take on it. Here’s an example: A rather stubborn classmate of mine believed that sushi was food for the poor people because he believed that rice was abundant and fish was cheap. Then my friend argued that, because the geography of Japan (the majority of it) isn’t made for farming he concluded that the poor people wouldn’t be able to afford to eat so much rice. Who do you believe? Well, you do the research. I can’t spoon-feed you, can I?

In addition, the preparation of the food is essential. There are different ways of making dukkbokki, foie gras, tiramisu – basically, every dish. This is because each person has their own take on what the dish contains and how it’s cooked. Each person takes pride in what they make when cooking. I know I do. And by trying out different restaurants and bakeries, I can see the plates and what they put on it and try to see if I can do something similar to it. Take, for example, cupcakes from Chikalicious that use egg whites for all their frosting. By using egg whites with flavoring, they are able to achieve a frosting that is very light, fluffy, and not overpowering in flavor. For their red velvet, the frosting did not go well because the flavor of the cake itself overpowered it. Magnolia Bakery, for their red velvet cupcakes, use a whipped vanilla frosting. This is an interesting use of vanilla frosting, but it works well with the red velvet, although it is a bit sweet. On the other hand, Cafe M, for their red velvet cupcakes had a buttercream-type cream cheese frosting that actually tasted like cream cheese and did not have a butter-like texture (some bakeries put too much butter in the mixture, thus, leaving the eater with a mouth filled with butter frosting). The texture of the frosting complimented the moist, yet crumbly texture of the cake. I could go on about red velvet cupcakes and then move on to chocolate, german, strawberry, and the rest. (As you can see, all my money goes to trying out foods D:) Food is pride.

Not only do I eat at restaurants, I also enjoy homemade foods. Whenever my landlord made dolmades, rice pudding, soups, and other such good food he would give a small portion to my family to have and enjoy. I dearly regret not helping him cook and enjoy making food with him before he passed away. On another note, my mom and aunt are nurses and they receive homemade food as gifts. My aunt had a Polish patient whose grandmother made sausages from scratch. Those were one of the best sausages I have had in my life and I didn’t have to worry what was used to make them. There are so many memories stored in food. There is so much knowledge when it comes to making food that I feel that it’s a lost art. The food of the past holds so much information of people’s cultures. It can show us what they used to make it, how they made them, when they made those food, and much more. Food isn’t only for consuming. Food is thought.

Food is also versatile. The myriad of flavors that are created and have been made is incredible. I am in awe of how chefs can combine different flavors and harmonize everything. The cacophony of flavors that work together to achieve a distinct flavor. I remember watching on TV years ago about a chef in Europe who was using science to combine different flavors together like “Chicken Liver Parfait, Oak Moss and Truffle Toast.” Food is science.

Essentially, I travel, eat, learn, and immerse myself in food and culture. So if I had to choose an “artwork,” it would have to be food, the culture(s) associated with it, and it’s history. Because, for me, artwork is something you take pride in creating. Each dish is a new creation, a new story. No two are ever alike, just like everything else. Nothing ever stays the same, just like the world. So would anyone like to join me in this quest?

http://www.yourdiscovery.com/science/kitchen_chemistry/fat_duck/index.shtml

http://www.thefatduck.co.uk/

http://sciencecareers.sciencemag.org/career_development/previous_issues/articles/2007_11_02/caredit_a0700157

Mineola on three, 1 2 3, MINEOLA!

Who are we? Mustangs, Who are we, Mustangs, Mustangs on three, 1 2 3, MUSTANGS!

Simple Chants and yet they capture the spirit of my community.

What community is this? Well it’s the town I lived in all my life, it’s the home i’ve always known, it’s Mineola, and we are the Mustangs.

When someone not from Mineola drives down Jericho Turnpike they probably wonder why the heck there’s a giant Mustang in front of a random building on a random street corner? That’s a perfectly normal question for someone not from Mineola to ask. In fact some people that live in Mineola wonder the same thing. But for many people who have lived here all their lives and have been active within the community, they know exactly what this statue means.

This statue captures the very essence of “Mustang Pride”. Whether you are a member of an athletic team in Mineola, or just someone who lives in the town you feel this sense of pride when you see this statue. To every person it may mean different things, and bring back different memories of our town.

To me, every time I see this statue I think of how proud I am to be able to call myself a former Mineola Mustang. The graduating class of Mineola High School 2010 truly was a family to me. Teachers agreed that our class was special, we all just got along and we truly resembled what a community was. We were all proud of the school we went to, and we were proud to be Mustangs. Whether it was shown in our athletics, where during the school year we had one of our most successful years in athletics, or in our music department where our Mustangs were State Champions, we supported eachother and were proud to represent our community.

A family is always there to support one another, and that’s exactly what our community was and did. When tragedy struck, and one of our very own Mineola Mustangs suddenly passed away overnight from natural causes our whole community came together and our Mustang Pride truly showed when everyone in the community gathered to support his family in a time of need and when on a school night 95% of our community showed up to our high school for a memorial ceremony that was arranged by the students we were all truly proud to call ourselves the Mustangs.

Even though I no longer am a Mustang, I still, as do many members of my community, support my Mustangs. I try to attend as many events as I can to support the new Mustangs in hope that they too will be successful in representing our community. It makes me so happy when I see my former team mates achieve their own goals. I guess I’ll always be a Mustang at heart and have that Mustang pride in me.

Although I’ll always be a Mustang at heart, I am now a Knight and look forward to being successful at Queens College and forming a new family =). Let’s go Knights!

Shopping for labels, shopping for love.

Manolo and Louis, it’s all I’m thinking of!

Call me a pathetic label whore, materialistic brat, or spoiled princess, but for me, fashion, shopping, and style is a form of art.

Although we might all say that it is really snotty to look at someone for the first time and judge them on what they are wearing and their appearance, but we all do it. In fact, that’s always the first thing we see when we meet someone. Before their mouths open and we actually hear what they have to see and really understand their personality, our first judgments are based on what we see first. For example, if we see a woman walking down the street with a four thousand dollar Chanel handbag with Jimmy Choo heels on, our first thought might be somewhere along the lines of “rich bitch.” If we see a teenager walking down the street with chains, baggy jeans, piercings, and tattoos, we sometimes shun them away.

As much as we try not to be shallow, it’s unfortunately human nature sometimes. And though we do not like to admit it, many of us think and react in this manner. Because of this, I always want to look my best even on my “bummy days,” and fashion does just that for me. I can wake up one morning and put together an outfit that I or someone else might refer to as, fine artwork.

In my opinion, the way you dress and the clothing items that you decide to wear are all a part of your character and personality. Our bodies are all canvases waiting to be painted on with clothes, accessories, and shoes.

Designers can also be referred to as artists because they are the ones who create these clothing items–from handbags to jewelry, shoes, headbands, sweaters, dresses, you name it. All of these articles of clothing were planned for perfection and they are, undoubtedly, a form of art.

Every day our outfits define who we are and show off a bit of who we are to people who don’t know us at all. For me, the coolest new designer handbag or pair of shoes is art. The hard work that the designers put into each piece in their collection, creating a masterpiece from a single sketch, is amazing to me and that is art.