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The Chronicle: A love story

(04/28/14 8:52am)

I first met The Chronicle through a mutual friend, Chelsea Pieroni, my fashionable Italian dorm mate who I thought was too cool for me (and still do). We were hanging out in the Pegram common room when she mentioned that she was heading over to a photo meeting later that evening. I was a cliche lanyard-wearing, wide-eyed freshman still trying to find my niche at Duke. So, of course, I asked if I could tag along. Soon enough, I found myself sinking into one of the many plush, suede couches in 301 Flowers.


Editor's Note, 3/6

(03/06/14 9:27am)

Though I am unsure of the truth of his words, a friend of mine recently told me that maintenance faculty are not allowed to clean the Duke sculpture studio for fear that they might mistakenly throw out student work. He mentioned it to me when we stumbled across a story about a cleaning woman working in a gallery in Italy. She had accidentally thrown $15 thousand worth of art by modernist Paul Branca that consisted of crumpled cardboard and newspaper which had been scattered across the floor. Supposedly, it was the artist’s “commentary on the environment.”


Editor's Note, 1/9

(01/09/14 12:44pm)

It started when I saw a painting, a work by Renaissance painter Correggio entitled "Jupiter and Io." In the image, a naked woman lies in the embrace of a dark and consuming fog which has unfurled itself around her body and has the slight outline of a face gently kissing her on the mouth. It’s a beautiful but strange image and I couldn’t get it out of my head. I wanted to know the background story. Who was this woman? And who or what was the beloved supernatural force that she held onto dearly? I bought Edith Campbell's famous book, “Mythology,” a digestible compendium of Greek and Roman myths, and got reading.


Editor's Note, 1/9

(01/09/14 12:12pm)

It started when I saw a painting, a work by Renaissance painter Correggio entitled "Jupiter and Io." In the image, a naked woman lies in the embrace of a dark and consuming fog which has unfurled itself around her body and has the slight outline of a face gently kissing her on the mouth. It’s a beautiful but strange image and I couldn’t get it out of my head. I wanted to know the background story. Who was this woman? And who or what was the beloved supernatural force that she held onto dearly? I bought Edith Campbell's famous book, “Mythology,” a digestible compendium of Greek and Roman myths, and got reading.


Editor's Note, 10/17

(10/17/13 7:08am)

Lately, I’ve been feeling like Benjamin Braddock in "The Graduate," sipping on a warm beer and lying back on my inflatable pool lounger, floating across the uncertainty that comes with senior year. However, I’ve been desperately trying to shake this cliché anxiety-induced apathy and live in the excitement of this liminal moment. It’s just really hard, though.