THE ARCHIVE

Homecoming events never seemed very cool when I was studying in Ithaca as an undergrad. But since I am now studying in New York City (still an undergrad but no need to dwell on that), I felt a strange urge to go back and reconnect with my alma mater. Friends from the Class of 2009 were back in full force, eager to escape their professional lives for a long-anticipated weekend of college fun.

I traveled up to Ithaca on Friday and many of the fields along the highway were covered in snow. This seemed unusual for mid-October but I’ve learned never to underestimate upstate New York.

Upon arrival I scoured the campus for some time and discovered that little had changed except for a bit of long grass on Libe Slope, a glass monstrosity lodged between Baker and Rockefeller, and a vast pit of mud in the parking lots behind Sibley Hall. The later (pictured above) marks the arrival of Milstein Hall and, in the distance, the new wing of the Johnson Art Museum. Both projects appear in a nascent state at this point, but are expected to begin taking shape by this spring.

I met up with several friends and we quickly realized that we no longer had a “home base.” The old-geezer alumni consider the Marriot Hotel their home base, but we had neither the resources nor the nerve to do such a mature thing. Instead, like so many young-alumni (and fifth-year-architecture-students-studying-in-new-york), we decided to crash with friends.

Many of my younger friends at Cornell are “brothers” in the Delta Chi fraternity. They were kind enough to host several kids from my class and feed us continuously throughout the weekend. On Saturday, the homecoming tailgate and events were markedly Greek. Students donned hoodies with their fraternity and sorority letters prominently displayed alongside the Cornell football logo – pretending for one day that we are a Pac 10 school.

I had a blast in Ithaca over the weekend but, aside from good memories, the only thing I brought back with me to New York is a lousy cold. Repeated exposure to grimy subway cars and public buses on two continents in the past year never caused more than a sniffle, but two nights at Cornell have left me wiped out — increasing evidence that the campus has truly become a bastion of contagion.

Those familiar with Cornell have probably already been subjected to the repetitive naming scheme of campus buildings.  The first week of class brings with it many trials and tribulations – among them trying to find the location of your first lecture. Although it might seem obvious to veteran Cornellians, the collegiate nomenclature could hardly be more confusing. Your first impression upon arrival at Cornell is that every university building is called a “Hall” without regard to its size, structure, or function.  Then, as soon as you begin to ignore these accessory titles, you will be caught unaware in the wrong building on the wrong side of campus.

Wealthy alumni are partially to blame for this confusion, seeing as they are unable to fund merely a single building on campus.  To make matters worse, their surnames have migrated and multiplied as departments, laboratories and chimes have changed location. Thus the current situation: McGraw Hall is not attached to McGraw Tower, Uris and Olin Libraries have no relation to the similarly named Halls, and you will be hard pressed to find the Sibley Labs in Sibley.  Adjacency be damned! Sage Hall has no chapel by that name and don’t expect to find the Johnson museum in the Johnson school.

I sometimes wonder if the university planners were playing the same sort of joke as those who decided to put Kansas City in Missouri.  It just isn’t logical.

But, after time, this particular brand of Cornell nomenclature makes sense to the people who need to know. Each name becomes inextricably linked to a particular space, to experiences, and to our collective memory. When taken in sum, the names constitute a sort of code that reflects the culture of Cornell the way that strands of DNA reflect the nature of an organism. Until this semester, however, it never occurred to me that this “code” might extend beyond Cornell’s campus in Ithaca.

After walking the streets of Manhattan with bags in tow, I felt a wave of amusement and satisfaction upon the sudden discovery that I had reached my destination at Cornell’s Medical school. Every building in sight was named for Sandy Weill, a banker and philanthropist who has donated a good portion of his enormous fortune to Cornell. Then, on the corner of York and 69^th, I found the dormitory where I am living this semester. “Olin Hall” it is called, not to be confused with the chemistry building of the same name in Ithaca.

Olin and Weill Halls on the Upper East Side?  The Medical campus is like an intellectual microorganism created from the same “Cornell DNA” that generated the campus in Ithaca.  And I’ve got to assume that the same could be said for the campus in Qatar and other, smaller, and more remote educational outposts.  Where does this University end? The extent and multiplicity of the thing I know as Cornell continues to amaze me.

As we near the end of the academic year at Cornell, the comfortable daily routine of classtime/freetime/worktime/sleeptime has been violently disrupted with a series of “last hurrahs” of both the social and academic sort. In the past two weeks, we have experienced a whirlwind of activity causing excitement, stress, sleeplessness, and relief. Final projects, reviews, and exams have sped past with Slope Day, Delta Chi formal, and a few (deserved?) study breaks interspersed.

The last few days of class were packed with the typical projects and presentations that always seem to slip toward the end of college syllabi. Aside from a last-minute Italian prelim and a final Drawing review, my week wasn’t much to complain about. Less fortunate friends had as many as four final projects due on the same day. Most students buckled down for the final stretch of classes, remembering that “all’s well that ends well.” The spring semester ends with Slope Day.

If you are unfamiliar, Slope Day is the annual University-sponsored day of live music and debauchery. The hill behind Uris Library transforms into a large amphitheater with a temporary stage on West Avenue and an expansive chain-link fence enclosing the entire slope. This year, the white suburban rapper Asher Roth sang about college life and child obesity and the Pussycat Dolls danced to some of their prerecorded pop tunes.

After this brief respite, my architecture friends and I returned to reality in Rand Hall to finish our projects before the final design review on Tuesday, May 5th. Just a few more papers and exams and the summer will be upon us…

On Saturday morning, some friends and I piled into my car and drove down to the inlet of Cayuga Lake to watch the men’s lightweight and heavyweight crew races. By 9:00am, the regatta had already attracted a substantial crowd with clusters of athletes and fans on both sides of the course, on the bridges, and in front of the Boatyard Grill.

Cornell’s lightweight squad raced Dartmouth for the Baggaley Cup while the heavyweight men raced Princeton and Yale for the Carnegie Cup. In an hour and a half, we witnessed complete Cornell domination on the water as they swept all varsity and junior varsity events. With good race conditions, hometown support, and a new coaching staff, the rowers capitalized on their (intensive) winter training.

The biggest race of the morning was the men’s varsity heavyweight (1v) race against Princeton and Yale. Both visiting teams can boast extremely successful rowing programs with a number of national titles. It was exciting, therefore, when the loudspeaker announced that the Cornell rowers had gained open water (a boat-length advantage) over both crews within the first half of the 2k race. When the boats came into sight at 1,500 meters, the Big Red had taken a healthy lead and hammered toward the finish line with a good view of the Tigers and Bulldogs fighting for second place.

The win continues the first boat’s undefeated season and puts them in good standing for the upcoming Eastern Sprints and national championship races.

Life can be a bit stressful here on the hill but sometimes the cause isn’t clear. According to the PULSE survey conducted on campus this year, a significant percentage of Cornell students feel stress as a result of family or relationship problems, challenging academics, or tight finances.

Concern for future plans, however, ranked first among all potential sources of stress. A startling 34% of the survey pool marked this as “very stressful” and another 33% responded that they considered it “moderately stressful.”

Whether thinking about summer internships or professional careers, the over-achieving student body at Cornell seems to brood anxiety about the future. And this can hardly be attributed entirely to the current recession. It’s just that planning to do things beyond Ithaca while taking classes and exams requires an incredible capacity for multitasking. Thoughts of resumes, cover letters, portfolios, and phone interviews loom quietly overhead and disrupt one’s normal routine.

This semester, I am taking fewer credits than ever before and my classes could hardly be described as overwhelming. And yet, I am completely dysfunctional. I’ve spent the majority of the spring dreaming up activities for this summer and drafting various mental versions of my life plan. I’ve also been touching up my portfolio, editing my resume and emailing potential employers.

Finally my schemes have come to fruition. And yes, they involve Italy.

I accepted a job working for three weeks on an archaeological site near Pompeii. The small team of professors and graduate students (mostly from Texas) will be researching Villa Oplontis and trying to make sense of its many phases of construction. Working alongside an architect, I will be documenting wall types and settlement patterns while trying to determine the original configuration and use of the Roman complex.

Afterward, I have arranged to work for an architecture firm in Rome called Labics. The two principle architects worked as my professors last Fall and have invited me on board to help with their firm’s current projects and (possibly) a bilingual publication.

Now that these plans are set and housing is nearly arranged, I’m about ready to relax a bit and enjoy the good weather. What? What’s that you say? Final exams?

Here at THE ARCHIVE we do not shy away from awkward or embarrassing topics, so it is with candor that I will explain to you the repercussions of my Dragon Day debacle. As noted in the first installment of the D-day saga, the kind men and women of the Cornell Police force decided not to send me to the Ithaca courthouse; instead, they referred me to the Office of the Judicial Administrator where my case would be dealt with internally.

Being “sent to the JA” is a common part of the freshman experience at Cornell and I considered it an interesting opportunity (if not an honor) to experience this rite of passage as a senior. I knew that the JA’s decision would not appear on my permanent record and that I would likely be required to do community service.

The JA process begins with an informational meeting to review the case and discuss various procedural issues. After examining evidence (police report, student statement, etc), the JA counselor proposes a “summary decision” or SD. This functions like a plea-bargain in the criminal system and allows students to admit to their violation of the Campus Code of Conduct and to agree to the requisite sanctions. If a student rejects the SD, he or she will proceed to a hearing where an impartial board will review the case, make a verdict, and decide upon an appropriate punishment.

When I visited the Judicial Administrator for my preliminary meeting, I was surprised by the cheer and good-humor of everyone in the office. My counselor described Cornell’s judicial process primarily as an educational opportunity and explained that he hoped to “come to an agreement” with me in determining “positive repercussions” for my illicit behavior. For the first time, I started to feel really good about my situation. Disciplinary action, it seemed, would make me into a better person.

We reviewed the police report from Dragon Day as well as the Campus Code of Conduct, and discussed the appropriateness of my actions. The counselor agreed that I had not been “disorderly” and decided very definitively to drop those charges. He did, however, point out that members of the community are required to present their name and Cornell I.D. to a campus officer immediately upon request (read the text on the back of your card if you don’t believe me). Thus, it was clear that I had “failed to comply” with the officer and needed to be punished accordingly.

I agreed to the Summary Decision which required me to perform 20 hours of community service and complete the BASICS course. The JA office prefers using community service as a punishment because they worry that monetary fines discriminate against poor members of the Cornell community. I agree with this logic, but why give “community service” such a negative connotation? Students with community service requirements learn to dread the activity rather than appreciating the social and personal benefits that it can provide.

I digress. I am not too worried about the service requirement because I already take part in a variety of community activities here in Ithaca. The truly embarrassing part of the punishment is BASICS, which is a forced acronym for “Brief Alcohol and Other Drug Screening and Intervention for College Students.” This is a two-part, two hour course that teaches students about the dangers of alcohol abuse.

At twenty-two, I found it amusing and slightly strange to take BASICS. The “facilitator” at Gannett was a recent graduate from Cornell and fulfilled her duties in a friendly and non-judgmental manner. The results from a quick survey showed that my drinking habits were average among college students and that I fall somewhere within the “social drinker” range. Recognizing that I didn’t need much counseling, the facilitator asked what I hoped to gain from BASICS. Based on my response, we spent a good portion of the remaining time discussing fun facts and the historical precedent for the social (or ritual) consumption of alcohol.

Here ends the story of Dragon Day 2009. For my own well-being, I hope that next year’s is much shorter.

The Cornell Design League (CDL) presented its 25th annual fashion show in Barton Hall on Saturday. The show included more than 200 outfits designed by 60 students from throughout the University. Several friends were participating in the event as designers and/or models, so I thought I’d check it out.

I was very sceptical at first that Cornell students could put on a good fashion show. I suspected that the amateur designers in the Department of Apparel Design would play it safe by emulating popular styles. But I came for a show and hoped to see outfits that were innovative, humorous, or even shocking. What’s the point of going to a fashion show if it’s not a spectacle?

This year’s event walked a fine line between J. Crew catalogue, Avant-garde, and dress-up box fashion. Some pieces were ordinary or tacky while others sparked interest and applause. A few of the most interesting were made by architecture students who used the lasercutter to generate precise shapes and patterns.

The best complete line, in my opinion, was called “outside the box.” The designer dragged a chest onto the stage and started pulling objects out from within. Each of these things (a lamp, a neck tie, a book, a bird cage, etc.) inspired an outfit that corresponded materially or symbolically to the source material. The process seemed simple enough, but the resulting dresses were clever and surprising. I’d like to add some more objects to the box and see what outfits they might inspire. (window shades, pizza, notebook paper, and dirty socks are some initial ideas)

On Sunday night I returned to Barton Hall for a completely different event. The CDL runway had been disassembled, chairs were removed and a stage stood ready for the sold-out Girl Talk concert.

After the opening act, students swarmed around the stage and waited excitedly for the main performance. Girl Talk arrived in a grey sweat suit and hunched over his laptop to select songs. Within minutes, he stripped down to his bare chest and danced frantically alongside students on stage.

If you are unfamiliar, Girl Talk is a “mashup” artist who combines other people’s songs into a continuous stream of dance music. Despite his denial, he is often considered a glorified DJ. Nevertheless, he put on a good show and managed to get the entire crowd in Barton Hall dancing passionately to Kelly Clarkson (something that most would probably like to deny).

George Thorogood came to town Tuesday night to perform alongside the Destroyers at the State theater. It has been an incredibly busy week here in Ithaca, but some good friends and I decided that foregoing work for a weeknight concert would be worth it. After the show (and the two all-nighters that followed) I have no regrets–George never disappoints.

Two summers ago I saw him perform with Buddy Guy at the Red Rocks amphitheater in Colorado. Ever since then, he has been one of my idols and has become the object of my open worship. Music is one thing; then there is his stage presence, work ethic, affinity for bourbon, and life philosophy. All of these qualities demand respect.

A passage on his website says it all:

“George Thorogood has a theory. In any field, especially the arts, there are always two things ‘genius’ and ‘very clever.’ There’s no in-between. You’re either a genius or very clever. I’m going to throw out two names at you. John Lennon genius, right? And Mick Jagger? Very clever. See what I’m saying? I’ll give you another example. Einstein genius. And George Thorogood very clever.” Yet what about the people who think Thorogood is a genius in his own way? OK, I’m a genius at being very clever,” he says with a hearty laugh. Thorogood loves quips almost as much as he loves the blues, so here’s another: Let’s put it this way. Dylan has a Rolls Royce dealership. I have a used Chevy dealership. But I’m in the business. You got it? That’s all I wanted from this thing. A gig, man. And I got a gig.”

His gig attracted an interesting crowd at the State Theater. We made friends with the folks behind us and, together, managed to get our entire section on their feet by the end of the show. Oh, yeah, and GT shook my hand.

In an effort to avoid the Valentine’s Day rush on fine restaurants in Ithaca, I decided to pick up some provisions at the grocery store and go camping with my girlfriend. The idea was not altogether bad, but when I awoke this morning in a damp and frigid bag of down feathers it occurred to me that winter camping might require a bit more planning. Although Ithaca has thawed almost entirely in the past week, the Virgil portion of the Finger Lakes Trail remains covered in a thick blanket of snow.

Without the assistance of Nordic skis or snowshoes, we didn’t cover much territory–but the silence of the snow-covered trees reminded me why I enjoy winters in the northeast. At 7:30am, the day started off well with a bit of warm oatmeal and an impromptu foot-warming dance.

Sometime between sunrise on Mt. Virgil and sunset in the Rand computer lab, reality set in. I have an important studio review tomorrow that will require a few more hours of diligent work. So now, the procrastination must come to an end…