Over the past several months, a tidal wave of outrage and protest over workplace sexual assault, harassment, and gender inequality has been steadily swelling, accompanied by the hashtags #TimesUp and #MeToo. What began in Hollywood with studio head Harvey Weinstein and a staggering gender pay gap, has rapidly spread across other industries like media and politics. The dominoes are starting to fall in the art world as well, with a few high-profile individuals like former Artforum publisher Knight Landesman and artist Chuck Close coming under fire for their alleged abusive behavior.
Between 1932 and 1945, thousands of women — hundreds of thousands by some estimates — from Korea, China, and the Philippines were pressed into sexual slavery to serve Japan’s Imperial Army. Although a formal agreement between Japan and South Korea was recently reached, the legacy of these “comfort women,” as they are known, continues to be a source of trauma, shame, and anger throughout the region. In recognition of their plight, statues dedicated to the victims have been erected in cities throughout the world, from Asia to Europe and the US, including one that sits in Glendale’s Central Park.
Welcome back to Restaurant Confessionals, where we talk to the unheard voices of the restaurant industry from both the front-of-house (FOH) and back-of-house (BOH) about what really goes on behind the scenes at your favourite establishments. This time, we hear from a new bartender working at a casino who fell for his boss.
My boss was fire—she was absolutely beautiful.
She was the cocktail manager and I was the lowly, new-hire bartender. It was one of my first bartending jobs at a new restaurant inside of a casino in LA. It was the type of spot where cholos went to pre-game before an oldies concert or a Pacquiao fight, and all I poured was crappy beer and vodka-tonics.
All of the women employees wore tight … Read the rest
No one on the internet is sure how to react to Hi Stranger, a scary-soothing short film by Kirsten Lepore that somehow blends nudity, innocence, ASMR, leeriness, and positive affirmation into a single hairless, genderless, polymer clay fellow with no name. Throughout the film, the character, voiced by previous Lepore collaborator Garrett Davis, speaks lovingly and intimately directly into the camera. If you imagine the stranger as a friend, confidant, or lover, it comes off as soothing, but otherwise can feel intrusive and assuming—an ambiguity the LA-based CalArts alum seems to delight in.