When asked why he chose Bebe Rexha for the collaboration, Garrix said, "First of all, I love to hear her voice. I met her earlier this year in LA. She played me some of her demos and just straight away after the first song, I fell in love with her voice because it's so unique it's so different. The team and I were brainstorming and then Bebe ended up doing it, with a lot of sending back and forth, lots of shaping and polishing the song and then we finally came up with the version how the world knows it right now."[9]
In the name of love
. . . it would be good economy for a town to pay its laborers so well that they would not feel that they were working for low ends, as for a livelihood merely, but for scientific, even moral ends. Do not hire a man who does your work for money, but him who does it for the love of it.
If DWYL denigrates or makes dangerously invisible vast swaths of labor that allow many of us to live in comfort and to do what we love, it has also caused great damage to the professions it portends to celebrate, especially those jobs existing within institutional structures. Nowhere has the DWYL mantra been more devastating to its adherents than in academia. The average PhD student of the mid 2000s forwent the easy money of finance and law (now slightly less easy) to live on a meager stipend in order to pursue their passion for Norse mythology or the history of Afro-Cuban music.
There are many factors that keep PhDs providing such high-skilled labor for such extremely low wages, including path dependency and the sunk costs of earning a PhD, but one of the strongest is how pervasively the DWYL doctrine is embedded in academia. Few other professions fuse the personal identity of their workers so intimately with the work output. This intense identification partly explains why so many proudly left-leaning faculty remain oddly silent about the working conditions of their peers. Because academic research should be done out of pure love, the actual conditions of and compensation for this labor become afterthoughts, if they are considered at all.
It should be no surprise that unpaid interns abound in fields that are highly socially desirable, including fashion, media, and the arts. These industries have long been accustomed to masses of employees willing to work for social currency instead of actual wages, all in the name of love. Excluded from these opportunities, of course, is the overwhelming majority of the population: those who need to work for wages. This exclusion not only calcifies economic and professional immobility, but insulates these industries from the full diversity of voices society has to offer.
The project investigates what lies beneath the surface of the seemingly innocent heart symbol. The heart is often described as a universal symbol for love, yet its history suggests otherwise: it is closer to a corporate and political medium, embedded with contemporary imbalances of class, gender, and race. The benign and seemingly innocent heart symbol hides a much more complex story than its surface suggests.
For example, within the context of online forums and social media platforms the heart symbol is often used for the propagation of hate speech. Next to that, there is also a rising discourse of love within nationalist propaganda from both new and existing far-right movements and parties, often hiding racist and sexist ideologies under the guise of love. What does that mean for the meaning behind the symbol that represents love? What more in the name of love? Through a historical, technological, and political lens this project wishes to reveal the problematics surrounding the heart symbol. Delving into issues such as the unknown origins of the symbol, (digital) colonialism, data capitalization and censorship avoidance it tries to show the shallowness of a symbol that is supposed to be full of love.
The research is accompanied by an installation and a music video in which six womxn read a spoken-word piece on the sexualization of the female body and the idealization of a nation-state. The music video will be on show at Onomatopee as part of its October / DDW 2020 program. Next to the video installation, we will launch the In the name of
The benign and seemingly innocent heart symbol hides a much more complex story than its surface suggests. The heart is often described as a universal symbol for love, yet its history suggests otherwise; it is closer to a corporate and political medium, embedded with contemporary imbalances of class, gender, and race.
The name of The Supremes will always go down the history of music as the first group to reach the top spot on the Billboard Hot 100 not twice, not thrice but for five times consecutively. The secret of their back-to-back achievements, was their managing label, the Motown Records. Founded in the 1960s, The Supremes were an all-girl band, whose members were shuffled for quite a few times, making the trio of Diana Ross, Mary Wilson and Florence Ballard the most popular grouping of all time.
As Dawn's upcoming Pokémon Contest in Sandalstraw Town approaches, she and the others stops at a local Pokémon Center. Dawn decides to train and summons all her Pokémon, knowing she only needs one more Ribbon to enter the Grand Festival. Piplup runs forward and collapses, everyone asking if he is okay. Piplup tries to get up and falls again, concerning Dawn. Barry suddenly appears and crashes into Ash as usual. Kenny also appears and after calling Dawn Dee-Dee (much to her annoyance), asks if she's entering the Sandalstraw Contest. Barry reveals that he is best friends with Kenny despite having met him only recently and that they stopped by Sandalstraw Town because Kenny plans to enter the Pokémon Contest while Barry has his eyes on the upcoming Pokémon Ping Pong Tournament. Barry shows Ash a flyer about the event and Brock mentions that a Trainer and one of his or her Pokémon will partner up as a team to enter. Barry summons Empoleon in order to train, planning to enter with it. As everyone watches, Piplup starts to glow, causing Piplup to jump around. Kenny mentions that Piplup is starting to evolve into Prinplup. Everyone's excited, but Piplup braces himself, stopping the evolution and becoming so exhausted to the point of collapse. Brock urges everyone to go to the Pokémon Center.
During the night, Piplup wakes up and looks at himself in the window's reflection, imagining himself as Prinplup. Dawn comes up from behind and presents Piplup with food, but he refuses. Dawn reveals her excitement for Piplup's evolution, but Piplup doesn't seem enthusiastic as Dawn tries to reassure Piplup. Piplup jumps around as he begins to glow again, the evolution process starting. Dawn tries to get Piplup just let the evolution happen, but Piplup uses Bide to stop evolving, exhausting himself in the progress. Dawn questions Piplup's motives and brings up the positives of evolution, but Piplup gets angry that Dawn appears to be ignoring his unwillingness to evolve and jumps out the window and flees the Center, prompting Dawn to follow. Barry and Empoleon pressure Brock, Kenny and Ash to train for the Ping-Pong tournament (despite the fact that Brock and Kenny don't plan to enter), but Dawn shows up and mentions her situation. Outside, Brock mentions his concerns that Piplup does not want to evolve, using Bide to stop evolution and expend energy. Everyone splits up to search as Kenny summons Prinplup to help search. As Dawn searches on her own, she spots a light in the forest.
Martijn Gerard Garritsen, born on the 14th May 1996 is a Dutch musician and producer from Amstelveen. He was named the DJ Mag top DJ in the world for 2016 and 2017. He has also had a number of high profile artists residencies, including at Hï Ibiza and OMNIA Nightclub.
You fall in love with a person, but you get a package deal. That's one of the big messages of two new novels that ruminate on love and family, particularly the family that's thrust upon you when you happen to mate with one of their kith or kin.
The heroine of Katherine Heiny's buoyant new novel, Early Morning Riser, is a young second grade teacher named Jane who lives in Boyne City, Mich. On the very first page of the novel, Jane locks herself out of her house, calls a locksmith, and winds up spending the night and, eventually, her life with him.
But the relationship is not without complications. That hunky locksmith's name is Duncan and Jane thinks he "looked like the Brawny paper towel man." But Duncan turns out to have bedded most of the available women in Boyne City. He's still friendly with a lot of them, including his ex-wife, Aggie, who's remarried to an insurance guy with the personality of a houseplant.
The humor in award-winning writer Joan Silber's new novel, Secrets of Happiness, is more subdued; it's rueful rather than charming. Secrets of Happiness opens with a middle-aged gay lawyer named Ethan recalling his childhood in Manhattan and how his father, who was in what he called "the rag trade" often traveled on business trips to Asia.
You'd expect that bombshell would send Ethan's family reeling and it sort of does: His mother, for instance, goes off for a year to Thailand herself to teach English and backpack. But something else happens in this expansive and elegantly crafted novel: Silber begins handing off the story, chapter by chapter, to other narrators, among them Ethan's newly-discovered half-brothers, the ex-girlfriend of one of those half-brothers, and Ethan's fickle present lover's former lover.
So how should the church respond to the growing LGB community? We cannot bury our heads in the sand and deny that many LGB people are indeed suffering from mental health issues and need our compassion and love. Armed with biblical truth and true compassion, we need to communicate with the LGB community, but our approach will differ depending on whether the individual is a professing believer or an unbeliever.
However the idea came about, the song pays tribute to the civil rights leader as lyrics explore great figures throughout history, those who, like King, led with love, fought without violence, and died in pursuit of equality. 2ff7e9595c
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