In the EUC, there are 2 main centers that I saw, and they were the 2 main entrances.
Center 1:
Entrance
Inside
Center 2:
Notice how the light in the first picture draws the eye up, and the floor pattern has a circle in the middle with pieces going out towards the doors and windows. This floor pattern reminds me of the one we saw in the music building, which had a similar circle and outward pieces pattern.
Running between the 2 centers is the hallway, which acts as a spine of the building.
The following picture shows an example of a demostration/information offering that often happens in this hallway.
I think that the 2 entrances act as centers because they connect both ends of the building, with the bookstore and food court on either side of one center, and classrooms and the Information Desk at the other center. People are always walking through the EUC, whether it be to meet with friends for food, to grab a book from the bookstore, or to go to a meeting in a classroom. There never seems to be a quiet moment along the hallway.
Another place that we visited was the Library. We were told to walk in and find what we thought was the center. I chose this:
This is the mobile hanging above the spot that I chose for the center. To physically describe it, you walk into the library and go past the circulation desk. Stand in the spot where the walkway of the entrance intersects with the long hallway running across the building and that's where I was. I believe that is the center because it literally is the center of the building, and it is at a main intersection of the building. It is near the circulation desk, the express computers, the hallway to the Super Lab, and the books. You can look all around from this spot and see several different areas of the library. After explaining why we picked our centers, we walked out the library to the front and saw this:
Above the main entrance, you can see the tower.
Since this tower is 9 stories tall, it is also used for radio and satellite reception.
The last building that we visited was the cafeteria. One of the main centers in this building besides the dining hall itself is downstairs at the entrance.
When you walk in, there are many things around you: the Spartan Market, the Mail Center, the other restaurant, sitting areas, etc. Then as you walk through the hallway, you get to the stairs and the dining hall. This is a very important center for many reasons.
1. Everyone has to eat.
2. You can buy snacks and a variety of other things here.
3. If you have a package, this is where you pick it up.
4. Some people like to sit on the couches and hang out inside rather than out by the fountain.
The cafeteria serves a variety of purposes and is one of the main centers on campus.
Centers help you understand the building and its purpose more. You can also tell by looking at the centers what was important to the school when they constructed/updated the building.
The poet-playwright-president Václav Havel has died. A thorn in the Soviets' side, a cheerleader for democracy and a self-effacing hero for Czechoslovakia, he was, more or less, the picture of what our leaders should be. While the great Milan Kundera felt it necessary to distance himself from Havel during the collapse of communism - seemingly unable to differentiate between the great ideal and the terrible reality - Havel came to power when his country needed him most. You can read The Guardian's obituary of Havel here.
After the pithy dances of the Divertissement, Petipa wanted a Grande ballabile in the style of the waltz from The Sleeping Beauty. Tchaikovsky provided one of his most inspired compositions. Picking up the tonality from the previous movement, the A major introduction becomes a dominant preparation for the waltz. Thematic ideas are introduced here in a dialogue between woodwind and harp. The first waltz theme seems to be in equal four bar phrases, with the string accompaniment answered in kind by the horns. A three-bar phrase follows, with further two-bar phrases creating a wonderful sense of acceleration. The final five-bar phrase with a tumbling chromatic line leading to the cadence soon puts the breaks on. Throughout, Tchaikovsky keeps us guessing by alternating the textures and lengths of phrases (unlike the repeated four-bar waltz themes of Johann Strauss II). A second descending theme is delivered passionately on the strings in a constant ebb-and-flow between music and emotion. At one point, Tchaikovsky shifts into B minor. While the initial oboe melody manages to evade its grasp, the cellos and violas are caught and become more outspoken in their 'Pathétique' tones. Like the 'Waltz of the Snowflakes' in the first act, which rocked between E minor and its relative major, the 'Waltz of the Flowers' vacillates between tonic and its relative minor. The mirror images between the first and second acts become clearer all the time. As before, however, Tchaikovsky is careful not to overcloud our view and, after a brief hemiola, we're back to the original theme. The final passages are delivered with great zeal, as the strings sail up to a passionate counter-melody and the brass come to the fore. The waltz ends with a dazzling sequence of hemiolas, quickening the harmonic pace right up to the final cadence.
Building on the emotional impact of the Waltz of the Flowers, Petipa asked Tchaikovsky for an opening to the pas de deux that was 'intended to produce a colossal impression'. Obliging as ever, the Intrada is a passionate outpouring. True, we may be watching a Sugar Plum and a Cough Drop (as the original Prince's name translates), but Tchaikovsky couldn't resist suggesting something infinitely more profound. The melody may just be a descending scale - shades of Swan Lake again - but the harmony completely revolutionises that simple device; it becomes an elegiac melody. And although it starts in G major, it's not long before we've shifted to that pervasive key of E minor. This pas de deux mirrors Clara's first moments with Hans-Peter in the forest. The harp is present as it was there, but while Clara's longing found voice in an ascending melody, it is inverted here; a reflection shows things in reverse. The second section is less grandiose, with an oboe and clarinet duet representing the dancers on stage. But the next passage, marked 'incalzando' - increasing in both speed and warmth - is charged with emotion. A dominant pedal is firmly expectant of E minor and things are yet more candid in the final bars, as the brass takes over the melodic duties. The presence of a flattened seventh in the tonic proper (G major) moves us briefly into C minor, out of which Tchaikovsky snatches back the tonic. The Intrada ends triumphantly.
We grow up with The Nutcracker. We change. And it changes before our eyes. While writing my piece about the score for The Guardian, I needed to remind myself that it wasn’t all about death, E minor and eternity. So I took the opportunity to go and see the matinee on Sunday 11th December with my nephew in tow. He will be six in February, so he was probably one of the youngest members of the audience. Despite his age, he was completely gripped.
And it was those musical details that dominated my talk to a Year 12 group at Beaumont School in St Albans last week. It’s a seriously impressive local comprehensive. Admittedly it’s got a good catchment area in a predominantly middle class town, but they were, far and away, the sharpest 6th-form class I’d ever met. They really understood that while you could enjoy the ballet on my nephew’s terms – he later cited the death of the Mouse King as his favourite moment – there was perhaps a bit more going on.
For the shortest day, the shortest track. As is customary in a classical pas de deux, both dancers perform a testing variation. Tchaikovsky, like Drigo and Minkus before him, tended to emphasise contrastingly masculine and feminine characteristics within those variations. Here Petipa asked for 48 bars in 6/8 time for the cavalier. Shifting into B minor, the movement is distinguished by a flowing dialogue between various instruments in turn. Given the showcase that Petipa intended (and Ivanov realised), with great leaps and turns for the Prince, Tchaikovsky obliges with a steady crescendo and the dialogue between the instruments creates a breathless counterpoint to the dance. The music moves into D major and Tchaikovsky introduces the tambourine - part and parcel of the southern Italian tarantella - but the tonic proper is insistent, the bass inflexible and the variation ends with a brusque cadence in B minor. It brilliantly sets up the Sugar Plum Fairy's variation in E minor.