"I was raised on robbery ... I'm a pretty good cook."
- Joni Mitchell
For all of the gallery reviews and drama critiques that show up in the Daily's Arts section, there is a lot of art on campus that never even gets considered for that ever so coveted five-star rating.
Since we've all been in the middle of midterms, I figure the last thing you want to read in the paper right now is a scenester's review of the latest obscure indie album as filtered through comparisons with other obscure indie artists. So, I thought I'd take this chance to honor some underappreciated campus artists: Dining Hall Thieves (DHTs).
Chances are, you might be eating in Dewick right now - or even its poor, bastard cousin, Carmichael - and not even know you're surrounded by a vibrant Bohemian underground. Now, outside of playing "Who Stole the Cookie from the Cookie Jar?" I do not condone stealing. But in terms of the dining halls, the ethics are grayer than a Carmichael beef patty. For $46,860 a year, if I want some fruit in the house, I think I'm entitled. All I'm saying is that with an endowment larger than the GDP of the nation of Belize (look it up), if you want to take some deli meat home, I think Tufts can foot the bill for a turkey sandwich.
That being said, I have seen my fair share of "art" in the dining halls. Michelangelo once said that "Every block of stone has a statue inside it and it is the task of the sculptor to discover it." So it goes with a DHT. A DHT sees empty Tupperware and knows his task is to discover the General Gao's Chicken inside it.
When Beethoven looked at blank sheet music he heard the 9th Symphony. When a DHT looks at a Ziploc bag he sees a week of flank steak sandwiches. I don't see the difference. Whether you express yourself through the paintbrush medium or the pot roast medium-rare, the canvass is yours to explore.
I have seen everything from the apple-in-the-sleeve to the tub-of-ice-cream-in-the-gym-bag to the is-that-a-banana-in-your-pocket-(or-are-you-just-happy-to-see-me?). four years ago, some of the more Allan Kaprow-inspired artists even adorned the third floor of Bush Hall with one of the Dewick lobby potted trees for a time.
The most avant-garde of my own endeavors took place freshman year. Since 50-something Medicaid patient Kim Cattrall warned me of the dangers of osteoporosis on TV, I thought I should have some milk at hand in my mini-fridge. Granted, I could have bought some, but where's the fun in that? Instead, I went to Dewick armed with a siphon tube running up my sleeve and out a hole in the back of my sweatshirt into an empty milk gallon in my backpack. I won't spoil the ending for you, but let me just say that one kink in the tube and one soaked sweatshirt later I found out when it's OK to cry over spilt milk.
So next time you're in the dining hall, don't look at the kid with the Tupperware as a thief. Maybe outside of the unparalleled awe that is the card-swiping team of Ellie and Grazia, none of this art in Dewick deserves that five-star Daily Arts rating - but even if no one appreciates these artists in their own time, at least they won't be starving artists.
Ari Goldberg is a senior majoring in history and can be reached at Ari.Goldberg@tufts.edu.
