This past week I attended a seminar at John Jay college that was titled "A Hip Hop Theory of Justice". The discussion was lead by a former african american federal prosecutor and scholar. During his tenure as a prosecutor he witnessed, and took part in, a variety of practices which he found to disproportionately target minorities, and subsequently ensnare them in a viscious cycle of inequality. His response was to delve into the world of hip hop music and culture to find the answer from within.

 I am so frustrated that i spent half an hour attempting to write a thoughtful--albeit untrained analysis of fall for dance, only to hit save and in that same instant lose my internet. Oh well. In summation although dance has never been my go to art form i still enjoyed the performance with an childlike awe--and ignorance. Unfortunately i arrived a moment too late and was asked to watch the duration of "Les Biches" from the lobby.

Art can come in every shape, size, and variety. That is why art can surprise you with where it pops up. Like a playground, art is alive within the swings, and the slides, and the graffiti, but also in the weeds popping up in between cracks in the pavement. There are many facets of art that we are so ingrained in the landscape of our daily lives, that we never learn to appreciate the beauty, and the refuge, that they hold for us.

If photography can be viewed as a catastrophe, then each of Thomas Neff's pictures was a tremor. Each picture hit us with the humanity--or lack there of, of the stories that followed Hurricane Katrina. Each image struck us, shook us, and rattled our bones with the sobering images of the struggling, and forsaken people of the city of New Orleans. These pictures were particularly meaningful for me because of my own experiences with hurricane relief in the city--and the many storied i heard and the people i met that were reflected in the eyes of every single one of his subjects.

 I woke up today at the crack of noon. Determined to not let the rest of my day go to waste I threw on some clothes, grabbed a book, and was out of the door within 10 minutes. Walking out onto the street I was met by the most lovely weather--sun shining, cool breeze blowing, and not a cloud in the sky. I strolled down Henry Street, which leads me to this great park on the water nestled between the manhattan and brooklyn bridges. It's autumn now, but on my way, I came across all the signs of spring.