I suffer from episodic migraines: throbbing headaches that might develop a few times a week, will creep outward from behind my eyes and brow and can render me virtually immobile for up to 12 hours, making me think an icy-cold visit from the Lobotomobile wouldn’t be totally unwelcome. Luckily, I finally found one drug that can stop nearly every vicious attack in its neural tracks.
Last month, hundreds of visitors mingled outside three conferences being held side by side in New York City’s massive Javits Center. Sharing lines for lattes with their neighbors from the Salesforce and International Franchise Expo meetings down the hall, attendees of the Cannabis World Conference & Business Exposition could only have been picked out of the business casual-crowd by a careful observer thanks to one detail: the green accents on their name badges.
For almost 80 years. Walt Disney Studios’ output has been a pop cultural touchstone that, in the words of cultural critic Henry A. Giroux, “powerfully influence[s] the way America’s cultural landscape is imagined." In the past few decades, the studio has taken steps to diversify that landscape by putting characters of various ethnicities and cultures—not to mention somewhat tougher princesses—onscreen, thus giving kids who don’t share Snow White’s skin tone and life goals new figures to relate to, and showing that the Disney universe is home to Mulan, Tiana and Merida, too.
The Anti-Surveillance State: Clothes and Gadgets Block Face Recognition Technology, Confuse Drones and Make You (Digitally) Invisible
Last spring, designer Adam Harvey hosted a session on hair and makeup techniques for attendees of the 2015 FutureEverything Festival in Manchester, England. Rather than sharing innovative ways to bring out the audience’s eyes, Harvey’s CV Dazzle Anon introduced a series of styling methods designed with almost the exact opposite aim of traditional beauty tricks: to turn your face into an anti-face—one that cameras, particularly those of the surveillance variety, will not only fail to love, but fail to recognize.
It seems like every time an onscreen character needs to cancel a date, order pizza or check out the horrifying photos they’ve been sent by a serial killer, they whip out a sparkling smartphone. But when I walk down the street thumbing through text messages on my dumbphone, I notice plenty of people holding gadgets just like mine. Sure, it’s possible that the smartphone’s onscreen dominance is a recent and very visible example of the unconscious assertion of privilege. It’s also possible, however, that it’s actually a very conscious one.