USE EASY WORDS, NO COPY. GENERAL INSTRUCTIONS – Please Read Carefully. This paper consists of two
sections: (1) identification/short answer and (2) essay;
Note On Referencing Readings: Some significant reference to at least THREE of our
assigned readings must appear at some point in your midterm (e.g. 2 references in the
identifications section, 1 in the essay; 3 references in the essay, etc.).I WILL POST ALL THE READING YOU NEED. Of course, you
are welcome to reference more (and are encouraged to do so).
SECTION ONE—Choose 3 (three) elements from the list below. For each, briefly
identify/define it and then comment on its significance in five to seven sentences. (If it is
a theoretical concept, explain it and provide a brief illustration. If it is the title of an
essay, briefly describe the argument made and its significance. If it is from a film,
identify the title in which it appears and then explain its function: What does it do for the
text—in terms of plot, characterization, thematics, style, etc.?) What is significant or
interesting about each within the context of art and activism?
1)The Theatre of the Oppressed ; 2)Shakespeare’s The Tempest; 3)“Cultural Activism In The New Century; 4)The Carnivalesque; 5)Spect-actor; 6)Reverend Billy and the Church of Stop Shopping; 7)“Philosophical Tantrum #7” ; 8)The Situationsists; 9) Circus Amok! .
SECTION TWO—Answer the essay question below in a carefully structured response
of between 600-800 words. SECTION TWO—Answer the essay question below in a carefully structured response
of between 600-800 words. See note in “general instructions” above regarding citation
of sources.

This essay will ask you to read a piece of current journalism published in the New York
Times on November 27, 2014. Please read A.O. Scott’s “Is Our Art Equal to the
Challenges of Our Times?” (found below) and craft a short essay in response to Scott’s questions and ideas of art and its relationship to politics, activism, and life. Be sure to
cite specific examples from our class readings and discussions. Think about what Scott
is asking for – what does he see as the relationship between art and politics? How do
his views intersect (or not) with the theorists and artists we have studied this semester?
Where is Scott looking for his answers? (In other words, what kinds of art is Scott
turning to when he asks if the art is equal to the challenges of our times?) Where are
some of the other places Scott could turn to if he is not satisfied with the art he is
addressing? (Or, what examples from our class might Scott be interested in?) i ALSO WILL POST THIS READING FOR YOU. BUT IN order to make different with other reading, I will post this reading by message. This paper have one week could write, if have question, ask me as soon as possible.

Comments from Support Team:     “Is Our Art Equal to the Challenges of Our Times?” <br /> by A.O. Scott <br /> <br /> Ever since the financial crisis of 2008, I’ve been waiting for “The Grapes of Wrath.” Or <br /> maybe “A Raisin in the Sun,” or “Death of a Salesman,” a Zola novel or a Woody <br /> Guthrie ballad — something that would sum up the injustices and worries of the times, <br /> and put a human face on the impersonal movements of history. The originals are all still <br /> around, available for revival and rediscovery and part of a robust artistic record of hard <br /> times past. But we are in the midst of hard times now, and it feels as if art is failing us. <br /> For the past few years, like a lot of other people, I’ve been preoccupied — <br /> sometimes to the point of obsession, lost sleep, free-floating dread and active despair <br /> — by the economic state of the world. I spend more time than is healthy pondering the <br /> global labor market, the minimum wage, rising inequality, the collapse of the middle <br /> class, Thomas Piketty, Janet Yellen and the gross domestic product in China, India and <br /> Brazil. Closer to home, I’m grateful for my luck and worried about my neighbors, <br /> anxious about my children’s prospects and troubled by the fissures that divide my city <br /> and my country. <br /> Strictly speaking, none of this has much to do with my designated area of <br /> professional expertise, which could reasonably be defined as writing about the stuff that <br /> people seek out to escape such worries and anxieties. Serious art and popular <br /> entertainment, in their diverse ways, offer refuge and distraction. Their pleasures and <br /> comforts are not trivial, but essential. Art is the domain of solved problems, even if the <br /> problems are formal and the solutions artificial. <br /> But if art, ideally, floats free of the grim reality of work, need and sustenance, <br /> that reality is nonetheless its raw material and its context. Intentionally or not, artists in <br /> every form and style draw on and refashion the facts of life that surround them, and the <br /> resulting work takes its place among those facts. What I’m grandly and abstractly calling <br /> “works of art” are more concretely and prosaically books, songs, movies, plays, <br /> television series, environmental installations, paintings, operas and anything else that <br /> falls into the bin of consumer goods marked “Culture.” These goods are bought and <br /> sold, whether as physical objects, ephemeral real-time experiences or digital artifacts. <br /> Their making requires labor, capital and a market for distribution. The money might <br /> come from foundations, Kickstarter campaigns or retail sales or advertising revenue. <br /> The commerce between artist and public is brokered by the traditional culture industry <br /> (publishing houses, television networks, record labels and movie studios) and also by <br /> disruptive upstarts like Amazon, Netflix, Google and iTunes. But the <br /> whole system, from top to bottom, from the Metropolitan Opera House to <br /> the busker in the subway station <br /> below it, is inescapably part of the capitalist economy. <br /> And that economy, in turn, provides an endless stream of subject matter. <br /> Much as I respect the efforts of economists and social scientists to explain the world <br /> and the intermittent efforts of politicians to change it, I trust artists and writers more. Not <br /> necessarily to be righteous or infallible, or even consistent or coherent; not to instruct or <br /> advocate, but rather, through the integrity and discipline they bring to making something <br /> new, to tell the truth. <br /> If I want to understand the dreams of the gentry and the nightmares of the poor in <br /> early-19th-century England, I turn to Jane Austen and William Blake. All the news you <br /> need about class divisions in Paris and London later in that century can be found in the <br /> pages of Balzac, Dickens and Zola. The history of European painting from the <br /> Renaissance to World War I is, in large measure, the history of power, wealth and social <br /> status. In the 20th century, film, theater and television tell the same story, as comedy, <br /> tragedy, thriller and farce. Class consciousness in Depression-era Hollywood ranged <br /> from tuxedoed and mink-coated swells in Manhattan penthouses to strikers on the <br /> picket line. Postwar Broadway was the kingdom of Willy Loman and Stanley Kowalski, <br /> and as television became a fixture of middle-class homes, it chronicled the struggles <br /> and aspirations of families — the Kramdens, the Conners, the Jeffersons, the Simpsons <br /> — trying to achieve or maintain middle-class status. <br /> And now? Should we be looking high or low? At sitcoms or science-fiction <br /> allegories or realist dramas? At a movie like “Snowpiercer,” which imagines a train <br /> speeding across a frozen, apocalyptic landscape as a microcosm of global inequality? <br /> At a television series like “Black-ish,” which illuminates the contradictions of upward <br /> mobility in a decidedly non-post-racial America? Some of my previous Cross Cuts <br /> columns have tried to plot the contemporary intersections of culture, class, work and <br /> money. In the past year and a half, I’ve written about how movies like “The Great <br /> Gatsby,” “Pain & Gain” and “Spring Breakers” reflect our ambivalence about wealth and <br /> materialism; about how Leonardo DiCaprio has become the movie-star embodiment of <br /> that ambivalence; about the gentrification of Brooklyn and the eclipse of middlebrow <br /> taste; about the contradictory status of creative labor and the state of the working class <br /> as depicted in the films of Jean-Pierre and Luc Dardenne. <br /> But I want to go further. I want to know more about the political economy of art at <br /> the present moment, to think about how artists are affected by changes in the <br /> distribution of wealth and the definition of work, and about how their work addresses <br /> these changes.

PLACE THIS ORDER OR A SIMILAR ORDER WITH US TODAY AND GET AN AMAZING DISCOUNT 🙂

USE EASY WORDS, NO COPY. GENERAL INSTRUCTIONS – Please Read Carefully. This paper consists of two
sections: (1) identification/short answer and (2) essay;
Note On Referencing Readings: Some significant reference to at least THREE of our
assigned readings must appear at some point in your midterm (e.g. 2 references in the
identifications section, 1 in the essay; 3 references in the essay, etc.).I WILL POST ALL THE READING YOU NEED. Of course, you
are welcome to reference more (and are encouraged to do so).
SECTION ONE—Choose 3 (three) elements from the list below. For each, briefly
identify/define it and then comment on its significance in five to seven sentences. (If it is
a theoretical concept, explain it and provide a brief illustration. If it is the title of an
essay, briefly describe the argument made and its significance. If it is from a film,
identify the title in which it appears and then explain its function: What does it do for the
text—in terms of plot, characterization, thematics, style, etc.?) What is significant or
interesting about each within the context of art and activism?
1)The Theatre of the Oppressed ; 2)Shakespeare’s The Tempest; 3)“Cultural Activism In The New Century; 4)The Carnivalesque; 5)Spect-actor; 6)Reverend Billy and the Church of Stop Shopping; 7)“Philosophical Tantrum #7” ; 8)The Situationsists; 9) Circus Amok! .
SECTION TWO—Answer the essay question below in a carefully structured response
of between 600-800 words. SECTION TWO—Answer the essay question below in a carefully structured response
of between 600-800 words. See note in “general instructions” above regarding citation
of sources.

This essay will ask you to read a piece of current journalism published in the New York
Times on November 27, 2014. Please read A.O. Scott’s “Is Our Art Equal to the
Challenges of Our Times?” (found below) and craft a short essay in response to Scott’s questions and ideas of art and its relationship to politics, activism, and life. Be sure to
cite specific examples from our class readings and discussions. Think about what Scott
is asking for – what does he see as the relationship between art and politics? How do
his views intersect (or not) with the theorists and artists we have studied this semester?
Where is Scott looking for his answers? (In other words, what kinds of art is Scott
turning to when he asks if the art is equal to the challenges of our times?) Where are
some of the other places Scott could turn to if he is not satisfied with the art he is
addressing? (Or, what examples from our class might Scott be interested in?) i ALSO WILL POST THIS READING FOR YOU. BUT IN order to make different with other reading, I will post this reading by message. This paper have one week could write, if have question, ask me as soon as possible.

Comments from Support Team:     “Is Our Art Equal to the Challenges of Our Times?” <br /> by A.O. Scott <br /> <br /> Ever since the financial crisis of 2008, I’ve been waiting for “The Grapes of Wrath.” Or <br /> maybe “A Raisin in the Sun,” or “Death of a Salesman,” a Zola novel or a Woody <br /> Guthrie ballad — something that would sum up the injustices and worries of the times, <br /> and put a human face on the impersonal movements of history. The originals are all still <br /> around, available for revival and rediscovery and part of a robust artistic record of hard <br /> times past. But we are in the midst of hard times now, and it feels as if art is failing us. <br /> For the past few years, like a lot of other people, I’ve been preoccupied — <br /> sometimes to the point of obsession, lost sleep, free-floating dread and active despair <br /> — by the economic state of the world. I spend more time than is healthy pondering the <br /> global labor market, the minimum wage, rising inequality, the collapse of the middle <br /> class, Thomas Piketty, Janet Yellen and the gross domestic product in China, India and <br /> Brazil. Closer to home, I’m grateful for my luck and worried about my neighbors, <br /> anxious about my children’s prospects and troubled by the fissures that divide my city <br /> and my country. <br /> Strictly speaking, none of this has much to do with my designated area of <br /> professional expertise, which could reasonably be defined as writing about the stuff that <br /> people seek out to escape such worries and anxieties. Serious art and popular <br /> entertainment, in their diverse ways, offer refuge and distraction. Their pleasures and <br /> comforts are not trivial, but essential. Art is the domain of solved problems, even if the <br /> problems are formal and the solutions artificial. <br /> But if art, ideally, floats free of the grim reality of work, need and sustenance, <br /> that reality is nonetheless its raw material and its context. Intentionally or not, artists in <br /> every form and style draw on and refashion the facts of life that surround them, and the <br /> resulting work takes its place among those facts. What I’m grandly and abstractly calling <br /> “works of art” are more concretely and prosaically books, songs, movies, plays, <br /> television series, environmental installations, paintings, operas and anything else that <br /> falls into the bin of consumer goods marked “Culture.” These goods are bought and <br /> sold, whether as physical objects, ephemeral real-time experiences or digital artifacts. <br /> Their making requires labor, capital and a market for distribution. The money might <br /> come from foundations, Kickstarter campaigns or retail sales or advertising revenue. <br /> The commerce between artist and public is brokered by the traditional culture industry <br /> (publishing houses, television networks, record labels and movie studios) and also by <br /> disruptive upstarts like Amazon, Netflix, Google and iTunes. But the <br /> whole system, from top to bottom, from the Metropolitan Opera House to <br /> the busker in the subway station <br /> below it, is inescapably part of the capitalist economy. <br /> And that economy, in turn, provides an endless stream of subject matter. <br /> Much as I respect the efforts of economists and social scientists to explain the world <br /> and the intermittent efforts of politicians to change it, I trust artists and writers more. Not <br /> necessarily to be righteous or infallible, or even consistent or coherent; not to instruct or <br /> advocate, but rather, through the integrity and discipline they bring to making something <br /> new, to tell the truth. <br /> If I want to understand the dreams of the gentry and the nightmares of the poor in <br /> early-19th-century England, I turn to Jane Austen and William Blake. All the news you <br /> need about class divisions in Paris and London later in that century can be found in the <br /> pages of Balzac, Dickens and Zola. The history of European painting from the <br /> Renaissance to World War I is, in large measure, the history of power, wealth and social <br /> status. In the 20th century, film, theater and television tell the same story, as comedy, <br /> tragedy, thriller and farce. Class consciousness in Depression-era Hollywood ranged <br /> from tuxedoed and mink-coated swells in Manhattan penthouses to strikers on the <br /> picket line. Postwar Broadway was the kingdom of Willy Loman and Stanley Kowalski, <br /> and as television became a fixture of middle-class homes, it chronicled the struggles <br /> and aspirations of families — the Kramdens, the Conners, the Jeffersons, the Simpsons <br /> — trying to achieve or maintain middle-class status. <br /> And now? Should we be looking high or low? At sitcoms or science-fiction <br /> allegories or realist dramas? At a movie like “Snowpiercer,” which imagines a train <br /> speeding across a frozen, apocalyptic landscape as a microcosm of global inequality? <br /> At a television series like “Black-ish,” which illuminates the contradictions of upward <br /> mobility in a decidedly non-post-racial America? Some of my previous Cross Cuts <br /> columns have tried to plot the contemporary intersections of culture, class, work and <br /> money. In the past year and a half, I’ve written about how movies like “The Great <br /> Gatsby,” “Pain & Gain” and “Spring Breakers” reflect our ambivalence about wealth and <br /> materialism; about how Leonardo DiCaprio has become the movie-star embodiment of <br /> that ambivalence; about the gentrification of Brooklyn and the eclipse of middlebrow <br /> taste; about the contradictory status of creative labor and the state of the working class <br /> as depicted in the films of Jean-Pierre and Luc Dardenne. <br /> But I want to go further. I want to know more about the political economy of art at <br /> the present moment, to think about how artists are affected by changes in the <br /> distribution of wealth and the definition of work, and about how their work addresses <br /> these changes.

PLACE THIS ORDER OR A SIMILAR ORDER WITH US TODAY AND GET AN AMAZING DISCOUNT 🙂