Hollywood has a long, illustrious history of casting white people for Asian characters. And film heavyweights like Aaron Sorkin have the gall to complain that, "There aren't any Asian movie stars."

Serious question: How does someone become a movie star if they're never cast in anything?

So here's one solution, courtesy of Twitter: Just cast John Cho in everything. 

@StarringJohnCho is a thought experiment/Photoshop masterwork from a young digital strategist named William Yu. It reimagines Hollywood blockbusters from Jurassic Park to The Martian with Cho in the leading role. It turns out the dreamy, criminally undercast star of #Selfie and Harold and Kumar looks good in basically every context.

The account is "a social movement that shows you what it would look like if today's Hollywood blockbusters cast an Asian-American actor as their leading man," according to its Twitter bio. 

"I'm tired of hearing that a role can't be played by an Asian actor because people 'just don't see it. #StarringJohnCho is here to literally show you," Yu, who is 25, told NBC News. "Films with more diverse casts result in higher box office numbers and higher returns on investments for film companies, yet Hollywood won't cast lead actors to reflect this fact."

Asians represented just 5.1 percent of speaking or named characters across film, television and digital series in 2014, according to a USC study on diversity in entertainment highlighted in the Hollywood Reporter. And despite Cho's obvious talent (RIP #Selfie), his IMDB page only lists a handful of upcoming roles. So let's hope some of these posters nudge the industry in the right direction.

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Note to Selena Gomez fans: Despite your dreams of a #Jelena reunion, the "Hands To Myself" singer is over Justin Bieber. During the Fresno, California, stop on her Revival tour, the 23-year-old made that point very clear.

While performing onstage, the singer spotted a fan holding a sign that read "Marry Justin Please," and she was not having it. She pointed out into the audience, motioning for fans to pass the sign up to her. When Gomez got it in her hands, she crumpled it up like a piece of trash. Now if that's not proof enough that she's done with the Biebs, we don't know what is.  

A photo of the supposed poster -- a piece of plain white paper with black writing -- surfaced online after the show. It's crumpled, just like we imagine Bieber's soul to be. 

Gomez's heart may want what it wants, and that is definitely not Bieber anymore. (He doesn't seem to know that, though.)

The star recently revealed to Marie Claire that she's been keeping her options open when it comes to relationships. 

"I've been dating," she told the mag. "I've been having the best time." 

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Artists don’t have to be “pawns” in neighborhood gentrification and displacement -- instead, they can fight it, and be a force to build more inclusive and equitable cities.

Activists in New York City took a stance against gentrification this weekend, protesting the Brooklyn Museum’s relationship with real estate developers with messages like “Dump the Fine Art of Gentrification,” according to Hyperallergic. 

About two weeks ago, artists at the IDEAS CITY Detroit conference used a different approach, discussing how they can take the driver’s seat in developing neighborhoods in ways that subvert the traditional course of real estate development.

The conference was part of programming created by IDEAS CITY, an initiative founded by New York’s New Museum with events in cities around the world. They selected 41 fellows from 30 countries for a five-day studio laboratory housed at a vacant former hospital in Detroit, where they worked on ideas to tackle the city's challenges. They presented their work at the April 30 public conference, alongside panels from leaders in the fields of art, activism, design, architecture and urban planning.

If you have the tools, plus an aesthetic sensibility and consciousness, you can make beautiful things happen.
Theaster Gates

 Artists can learn the “master’s tools” used by real estate developers, who often “end up being the most powerful transformation agents” in cities, said Chicago artist Theaster Gates.

“The more that I looked at wanting to have a real change opportunity, or affect change in the city, the more I realized that it was important that I learn those tools,” Gates said during an IDEAS CITY panel, “which meant not just a way of book-learning, but it’s a set of relationships and a network of people."

“It’s their mandate to make as much money as possible,” he added. “If you have the tools, plus an aesthetic sensibility and consciousness, you can make beautiful things happen.”

Gates has redeveloped several buildings on Chicago’s South Side, including a former public housing project and an abandoned bank he saved from demolition. After a $4.5 million renovation funded by donors, the Stony Island Arts Bank now houses a library and cultural center. 

Amanda Williams, an architect and artist who also lives and works on Chicago’s South Side, presented work that redefines and transforms the neighborhood. In “Color(ed) Theory,” Williams painted abandoned South Side houses in the bright hues of cultural touchstones like Flamin’ Hot Cheetos and Crown Royal whiskey.

When she painted the Crown Royal house a deep purple, a neighbor asked about the project, saying he had thought she and her crew might be preparing for an impromptu Prince concert. It validated her work, Williams said at IDEAS CITY, signaling the value he saw in his traditionally neglected neighborhood.

Jenny Lee, executive director of the Detroit-based organization Allied Media Projects, spoke about her earlier work with Detroit Summer. Throughout the program -- founded by the late activists Grace Lee Boggs and James Boggs -- she and a group of mostly black and Asian teens worked on public art projects, including a mural that tied together the histories of the Chinatown and Black Bottom neighborhoods, both destroyed by the construction of freeways. It was a way for the young Detroiters to learn about their connected, buried histories.  

“I kind of see us as developers … in the sense that we were changing the value of a place,” Lee said. “It was added value in our own eyes, and in the eyes of our neighbors, more so than in the eyes of real estate developers or luxury retail stores.”

She added that art can “cultivate that sense of belonging in young people, and especially young black people within our city, and we need art that will challenge the policies and the structures that would create dis-belonging.”

The role of artists in politics and city policy was a recurring theme at IDEAS CITY. Williams described being asked to join the city’s Zoning Board of Appeals, which reviews land use issues.

“They don’t think I’m an artist, I’m an architect to them," she said. "So why not leverage that? I’m this chameleon and so they think I’m doing one thing but I’m really there doing something else.”

Artists have a particular ability to influence decisions about their cities’ futures, suggested Rembert Browne, writer-at-large for New York Magazine and IDEAS CITY panelist. They can push back in ways that others don’t have the power or job security to do, he said.

“New York is all Duane Reades and frickin’ Dunkin' Donuts right now. If you think that’s development and progress, we’re not interested in it."
dream hampton

Many artists have confronted the issues of development and gentrification, both creating it and as victims of it. 

They're frequent topics of conversation in Detroit, where a lack of resources means new interest and people are welcomed -- but a wave of corporate investment and white newcomers (particularly artists, lured by cheap rent, abundant space and “the next Brooklyn” moniker) has long-time, mostly black residents questioning if they will be shut out of the city’s “revival.” 

While New York's white hot real estate market has developers moving at lightning speed to put up luxury condos in formerly affordable neighborhoods, Detroiters still have opportunities to determine different futures for their neighborhoods, where they’ve been mowing vacant lots, boarding up abandoned houses and starting urban farms and painting murals on their own for years.

“New York is all Duane Reades and frickin’ Dunkin' Donuts right now. If you think that’s development and progress, we’re not interested in it,” said dream hampton, a writer and filmmaker who grew up in Detroit. “A lot of what’s happening around what’s being called city planning just lacks imagination ... and we were excited for Detroit not to look that way.”

She offered advice to newcomers who don’t want to contribute to development that comes at the expense of residents who have weathered decades of white flight and corporate disinvestment: Learn about the city’s history, listen to your neighbors and enter their spaces respectfully.

“We have this narrative that when white people move into the neighborhood, value goes up, and with that comes displacement,” hampton said. “What I hear from young people is, ‘Well, I didn’t create these problems, I was just trying to find an affordable place to live.”

“You have to understand that you, by your very presence, are changing the landscape,” hampton added. “You can’t be ignorant of all of this history and the kind of value an anti-black society and country assigns to your white body as you enter our spaces.”

An audience member echoed her sentiments with a remark that could be applicable to any artists concerned about leaving positive marks on their communities: 

“It’s really, really important in the decision-making process, as Detroit changes, to make sure you include and engage the city folks of Detroit, because it’s important that we’re a part of the change.”

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One teen in Swanville, Minnesota, marches to the beat of his own drum.

Ethan Och, 18, plays drums for his school band, pep band and marching band despite a progressive genetic disorder, called spinal muscular atrophy, weakening the strength and range of motion in his arms. The trick? He uses drumming apps on a tablet that’s hooked up to an amp to play all kinds of percussion.

In March, the innovation earned Och, and his former band teacher, Gina Christopherson, the 2016 Section 5 National High School Heart of the Arts Award, which honors individuals who “exemplify the ideals of the positive heart of the arts that represent the core mission of education-based activities.”

“I’m not exactly sure what draws me to [music] so much,” Och, who will be studying computer science or engineering at the University of Minnesota, told the St. Cloud Times. “There are variations and combinations and a large amount of melodies you can make with different notes. There are so many different types of songs and you can take a melody that you know already and alter it. Art kind of balances out all the science.”

Yet, Och’s experimental way of playing drums wasn’t as clear and simple as his love for music. In fact, four years ago because of his disability, he thought he had to quit band. He had gone from using wooden sticks to a lighter, aluminum alloy variety, but his spinal muscular atrophy was slowly robbing him of the dexterity to use sticks.

“Rhythms were getting too hard for me to play on a snare drum or a bass drum,” he told the St. Cloud Times. “I wasn’t able to keep up, so I thought I had to quit. But then we ended up finding an answer, kind of by accident.”

Fortunately, Och’s band teacher, Christopherson, wasn’t singing the same tune.

"I don't believe in 'I can't,'" Christopherson told USA Today.

As Och was delivering the bad news to Christopherson, she noticed he was playing with a piano-playing app on his smartphone and "Mrs. C got to thinking," Och told the St. Cloud Times.

She began digging through iTunes for music apps that could possibly help Och out, downloading about 75 of them and blowing out many speakers until they found the perfect amplifier. Eventually Och was given an iPad by his school and thanks to the tablet, accompanied by an amp and the apps GarageBand, Shaker! and Cowbell Plus, Och was able to keep up with the rest of the band.

He was even able to play with the marching band -- with the help of a student walking aside Och pushing a baby stroller with a car battery and an amp.

"He's part of the team, you don't leave somebody behind," Christopherson told USA Today.

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In anticipation of the upcoming 50th anniversary of Expo 67, Studio Dror has proposed a 150-meter-wide vegetated dome for Park Jean Drapeau, the original site of the World Fair. The new dome would complement Buckminster Fuller’s Biosphere, which was built as the U.S. pavilion for Expo 67. 

Following a tour of Île Sainte-Hélène with the Buckminster Fuller Institute, Studio Dror was inspired to propose the new dome as a partner for Fuller’s "lonesome structure."

“Interacting like the sun and the moon, our concept engages in a poetic dance with Fuller’s design, realizing the park’s potential in a contemporary context,” studio founder Dror Benshetrit said in a press release.

Differentiating itself from Fuller’s original dome, the new proposal’s aluminium structure will also include a vegetated sound buffer. “As with 1967, 2017 is not just another celebration -- it’s the opportunity for a new beginning,” Dror Benshetrit said. “Our living dome is a catalyst for dreaming. The possibilities are endless.” 

Providing both an iconic addition to Montreal’s skyline, and a backdrop for events year-round including music festivals, live performances and public art exhibitions, the space is billed as having the potential to “transform the park into a global cultural destination.”

Structural and landscape specialists have affirmed the possibility of the project, claiming it could be ready to welcome guests in two years.

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Rita Moreno dropped knowledge and dope "Hamilton"-inspired rhymes while delivering the commencement address at the Berklee College of Music Saturday.

The 84-year-old Puerto Rican actress and singer began her speech with a monologue from Terrence McNally's award-winning play "Master Class" before breaking into a totally amazing rap urging grads to use their craft to effect change in the world around them. 

“My choice, a voice to articulate, to lay it straight on this date my fate is to relate with rhythm and passion that you have a mission,” she began. “I’m dishin’ that your education is a foundation for more than just strummin’ and drummin’. Playin’ the reeds, the deeds, they figure into your success. Hard work and discipline, I’ll mention. You must have the audacity, the pluck, the grit, the perspicacity... Your talent may be terrific, your writing prolific, but do you have the motivation to use your creation for this generation?"

Moreno paused for a few beats, allowing the crowd to pick up what she was putting down. 

"Will you invent the vocabulary of dissonance for love, for good, of revolution, if needed, in the institution of society, should it fail to provide the variety to include all people, races, kinds? If it is blind to the human condition, will you call it to contrition? Speak truth to power, infuse the news—there are other views to choose," she continued. 

In her "epilogue," the legendary EGOT winner shared her unique commencement speech was inspired by fellow Puerto Rican thespian, Lin-Manuel Miranda. 

"It's Mr. Hamilton that brought the rhyme to mind," she rapped. "Damn, I’ve seen that play three time[s]. Burned in my mind. Lin caused this crime of mine, so I read him his Miranda rights. I’m speakin’ to that other Puerto Rican, so I take flight. Yo, I am history.”

Moreno out!

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Photojournalist Adriane Ohanesian has won the 2016 Anja Niedringhaus Courage in Photojournalism Award for her work covering the many facets of conflict and the people it displaces.

The International Women's Media Foundation launched the award in 2014 to honor veteran Associated Press photographer Anja Niedringhaus, who was shot dead that year while on assignment in Afghanistan. The IWMF selects one woman photojournalist each year whose work exemplifies Niedringhaus' legacy.

Based in East Africa, Ohanesian has for years reported on the devastating civil war in South Sudan, as well as other humanitarian crises and conflicts in the greater region. South Sudan's civil war has killed at least tens of thousands of people since it broke out in 2013, and forced millions from their homes. Government soldiers and militias are implicated in a horrific range of atrocities, the aftermath of which is featured in some of Ohanesian's images.

Photojournalists Lynsey Addario and Paula Bronstein also received honorable mentions for their respective work covering conflict and humanitarian disaster. 

"These remarkable and brave women are revealing difficult truths around the world through their pictures, and the Niedringhaus Award celebrates that service,” IWMF Executive Director Elisa Lees Muñoz said in a press release announcing Ohanesian's win.

Scroll down to see a selection of Ohanesian's haunting photos:

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Most people don’t mind it if you use so-called improper grammar in text messages and emails, a new YouGov poll conducted with The Huffington Post shows. 

Only 12 percent of the poll's 1,000 respondents answered that improper grammar (punctuation, capitalization, etc.) in a text message would bother them “A lot,” while 24 percent responded “Somewhat,” 29 percent responded “Not very much,” 30 percent responded “Not at all,” and five percent responded “Not sure.” These findings were fairly consistent across age, race, income, and American region. Notably, there was a difference between men and women’s grammar preferences; women were six percent more likely to respond that improper text grammar bothers them “A lot.”

The language used in emails was only a slightly different story, with 22 percent of respondents saying improper grammar bothers them “A lot,” 30 percent responding “Somewhat,” 23 percent “Not very much,” 21 percent “Not at all,” and 3 percent “Not sure.” Again, women were more likely to judge improper grammar harshly, with 27 percent saying it bothers them “A lot,” versus 17 percent of men.

These findings aren’t altogether surprising -- a similar study conducted earlier this year revealed that pedantry isn’t usually predicted by age or education levels, but by whether the respondent was an introvert. Introverts, the study found, were more likely to rate a "grammo"- or typo-committing peer as an unsuitable roommate. 

It’s worth noting, however, that while respondents to the YouGov study were accepting of improper grammar, most of them reported using proper grammar themselves when texting and emailing. Forty-eight percent answered “I generally use proper grammar” when asked about their texting habits; 74 percent said they used proper grammar when sending emails. Again, women skewed toward proper grammar -- they were 9 percent more likely to use proper grammar in emails. Age was also a factor: respondents 65 and older were 16 percent more likely to use proper grammar in emails than those under 30.

So, not all those who make an effort to use proper grammar are unforgiving of those who are more creative in their approach to textual communication. Which is great news, because no negative correlations have been made between grammatical tweaks like text message abbrevs and literacy scores. In fact, the correlation between “improper” language use and language-learning is proven to be positive. Keep that in mind next time you find yourself shaking your head at a glibly wrought “ur.” It’s been established that textual flourishes -- multiple exclamation marks, say, or swapping our “too” for “2” -- don’t indicate a lack of writing skills, and that young learners can compartmentalize schoolwork and friendly chatter.

And, the YouGov poll shows that respondents aren’t exactly writing essay-length emails or texts; the average length for each was one to two sentences.

So before you write off a correspondent who schedules drinks sans-punctuation, remember that casual language is becoming the new norm.

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Choreographer Jeremy McQueen founded the Black Iris Project in the early months of 2016, though the idea behind the dance initiative took root a few years before.

Back in 2013, McQueen was working with the Joffrey Ballet under the prestigious Choreographers of Color prize when he imagined "Black Iris" as a performance exploring black womanhood through dance. He was inspired in part by his mother, as well as by the journeys of other black women like Washington Ballet dancer and "Black Iris" performer Nardia Boodoo. Both had fought against the odds; McQueen's mother in her battle against breast cancer, Boodoo in a ballet career historically dominated by lithe, white bodies. 

After his work on "Black Iris," McQueen -- who's trained at the California Ballet School, the San Diego School of Creative and Performing Arts, the San Francisco Ballet, the American Ballet Theatre, and Alonzo King’s LINES Ballet; not to mention taught at the Peridance Capezio Center, Alvin Ailey Dance Foundation, Steps on Broadway, and a number of other schools and studios -- found himself wanting another opportunity like it, another chance to not only showcase the talents of other dancers of color, but to tell stories that reflect the experiences of people of color, too.

"I wanted to create more opportunities like this one for collaboration, reflection, connection," McQueen told The Huffington Post, "and the creation of dynamic works of art that address the black experience or black history. We wanted to develop works of art that our communities would specifically find interesting and would want to see them performed."

So he made another opportunity happen. With grants from the Rockefeller Brothers Fund, New Music USA and the CUNY Dance Initiative, the "Black Iris" performance became the Black Iris Project, which has since brought together 20 dancers of color from a variety of companies, including Stephanie Rae Williams, Daniel Harder, Ebony Williams, Erica Lall, Camille Workman, and Da'von Doane. Described as "a ballet collaborative and education vehicle which creates new, relevant classical ballet works that celebrate diversity and black history," the New York City-based project spotlights a growing roster of predominantly minority artists with the aim of inspiring youth of color to explore the arts. 

It was only last year that Misty Copeland became the first African-American ballerina to achieve the rank of principal dancer at ABT, and while there's a long history of black ballerinas succeeding in the dance world in a field that's favored thin, light-skinned bodies on stage, dancers and choreographers of color are a minority. We spoke with McQueen more about the beginnings of his project and what it means to use art as a platform for celebrating diversity:

Tell me about "Black Iris" at the Joffrey Ballet. How did the Black Iris Project transform from an en pointe ballet to a broader organization?

My mother informed me that she was diagnosed with breast cancer just before a visit to the Metropolitan Museum of Art with a friend. While touring the museum, I fell in love with a painting entitled "Black Iris III" by Georgia O'Keeffe. It sent lightning bolts to my heart in ways that no piece of art ever had before. Around this same time, I was in the process of applying for the Joffrey Ballet's Choreographers of Color Award and was preparing to write a proposal of the type of work I would create. While thinking more about this painting and knowing how I was feeling about my mother, it all just clicked... I needed to find a way to release this frustration, sadness and confusion through art. So I took to my pen and paper and just wrote and listened to music and took long showers. (I have discovered that most of my ideas come when I'm in the shower.)

Next, I found out that I was a recipient of the award. I knew I wanted to create this ballet as a tribute to my mother, but it wasn't at all a priority for the lead in my ballet to be black. I studied in dance schools for many years where I was often one of few black dancers, so I knew what my odds were that I would even have anyone of color in my ballet. When I arrived to the Joffrey Ballet, I fell in love with Nardia Boodoo. She struck me like the painting. She had a quiet confidence that reminded me of myself, and I saw something in her that told me I needed to take a chance on her. After I became better acquainted with her, I started to look at her journey and the journeys of other black women around me. I started to see some fundamental similarities. So the piece went from being a tribute to my mother and the other women who helped raise me to a tribute to black womanhood in general. 

From there, Nardia and I built a bond along with Pierre Lockett (former dancer with the Joffrey Ballet). Pierre became a big brother to me. We created a support system for each other, and we each shared our stories in an effort to help strengthen one another ... I wanted to create more opportunities like this one for collaboration, reflection, connection, and the creation of dynamic works of art that address the black experience or black history. We wanted to develop works of art that our communities would specifically find interesting and would want to see them performed.

What is the process like of creating a new ballet through the Black Iris Project today? Who are the people typically involved in a production?

Within our debut season, we have two new ballets we've been developing. The first ballet is "Madiba," which highlights the faith and determination of South African anti-apartheid activist Nelson Mandela; the other work is entitled "Brown Baby," which is inspired by the true story of black model Beatrice Reynolds Cox and her evolution embracing her identity as a biracial woman.

With "Madiba," the new score of music came first. Last spring I stumbled upon Carman Moore's score, which had just premiered at Carnegie Hall. I was writing extensively at the time and thinking about black stories that I felt would make dynamic ballets and conversation/education pieces that people of all ages could continue to talk about that relate to either the black experience or black history. Nelson Mandela was not on my radar at all. But when I read about [Moore's] score -- and also realized it was composed by a black classical composer -- I had to hear it.

So, I reached out to him, we met, and I fell in love with the score. Through the score, the story was essentially laid out for me. It was very linear. I started to craft some ideas of how I would bring the story to life using the concrete moments that the composer utilized from Mandela's life for inspiration. I started pulling together a team of black designers. Since I didn't know of many emerging designers, I was on a quest to find some. After reaching out to my colleagues and asking for recommendations of emerging black designers from various mediums, the team for "Madiba" was built and we started brainstorming how we could bring this work to life in a dynamic and innovative way.

With "Brown Baby," it all happened differently. The idea for the ballet came first. I had been in consideration to create a piece for an organization last summer that would [focus on] an interracial relationship -- specifically, a white male and a black woman, and they wanted it to be en pointe. I found music that inspired me and played around with fictional and non-fictional storylines. My pitch was not greenlighted, and I wasn't commissioned to create the work. By the time I had come up with a complete idea, I loved it and couldn't get it out of my head.

So I started thinking about how I could still create this work on my own. I knew Lauren Cox through mutual friends and was friendly with her, but I was not very close in friendship with her. I really loved her movement quality. So, I reached out to her about a potential collaboration and told her about my interracial relationship idea. At that moment, she revealed to me the story of her mother who was biracial and how she became an amazing fashion model. The entire story was so inspirational and relevant to the times on how we look at beauty and how it must be found from within. When she embraced her uniqueness and beauty, others did as well. That's such a beautiful message, and I absolutely felt like this was the ballet we were destined to create. From there, I researched, wrote more ideas, and became smitten with Aaron Diehl's piano compositions. I contacted him, told him about my vision and mission. Months later, he created a brand new score for us.

It's been a mighty ride just to get to this point, but it's really been fulfilling. I look forward to sharing these works with the world and allowing them to have an impact in various communities to provide hope, motivation and encouragement to those who can relate to these truly beautiful stories of individuality.

Why do you personally think that ballet is a powerful platform for directly celebrating diversity and black history?

The arts, in general, are just so powerful. Ballet is an art form that, I believe, has a huge lack of diversity. Yet we have so many great black ballet dancers in companies around the country right now. I strongly believe that all art forms should be accessible to all people, and ballet in particular is one art form that I feel is very traditional and is often appealing to a certain demographic of people. So, my mindset is: Why not shake things up a bit?! We live in America, and we exist in a world with so many different backgrounds, beliefs, cultures, etc. I feel that ballet needs to reflect this as well.

So I don't see ballet as one art form that is a better platform over others, but I think there needs to be more diverse ideas on casting, and especially the types of stories that are told within ballet specifically. We're so used to the stories being European-rooted, or fables and fairytales in ballet. Unfortunately, most of the minority kids that I teach aren't interested in these stories, especially if they don't see someone who looks like them dancing the roles. Visibility is huge. 

In many ways [ballet] is still very segregated. The idea that we shouldn't create black stories through ballet is weird to me. It's as if we as black people should cling more to modern and not to ballet. I don't believe that we should have such "social norms" in the 21st century. If we don't address this issue and change this, all we do is repeat a cycle of things changing a little bit, but at the same time not really changing. Instead of waiting for a company to do this, I decided to create the stories and the opportunities that I wish existed. 

Your website states that the Black Iris Project "will encourage and inspire youth of color to pursue art, movement and music as an expressive outlet and means for collective healing." Can you expand on this idea?

Yes, we are joining forces as artists from various mediums not to necessarily push a ballet agenda and get minorities to necessarily want to become ballet dancers. We want them to see the arts as an amazing outlet of expression. Whether it be painting, playing or composing your own music, making up your own dances ... I know firsthand that art heals in unique ways. 

I see all of this as group therapy. As we go out into the community and give back, we are able to connect with young people and to see their faces light up. Many stereotypes about minorities exist, especially about black kids from inner cities. My concern is that instead of judging these students and pointing fingers, we need to find better ways to reach them and to help them see value in their lives, no matter where they come from or what their circumstances may be. We must also see that the arts can be a creative and constructive way to heal, vent or express oneself without necessarily getting caught up in the wrong crowds or taking out their aggression and frustration with violence. 

I have been so fortunate to have been able to study many art forms. The arts have kept me focused. It's given me drive and determination and a sense of individuality and independence. I've dealt with depression in the past. During those times, I could have easily resorted to drugs or violence as a way of trying to control my surroundings. Instead, I have had my art to rely on during those challenging times. When I was sad, I went to class and danced my heart out; sometimes I ended up crying while I did it. Every time I danced, I felt so much better. It was my release, and it helped me pick myself up and continue pushing. 

Based on your experience educating through the Black Iris Project, what role do you think ballet training plays in the lives of young children? 

I believe the arts, in general, play a powerful role in the lives of young children. The arts can help you in so many ways. Ballet teaches discipline. There's a protocol in ballet and being exposed to ballet and the arts at a young age can have a strong effect on young people's development. 

What's next for Black Iris Project?

We have a slew of events in the city leading up to our debut season, but my major goal is to take these works on the road. I want to go into community centers and take these ballets directly to our targeted audiences. It's one thing if you invite people to come see what you have done, but you reach so many more if you take your art directly to their front doors.

Next April, we will be performing at the Kennedy Center Opera House as part of the Kennedy Center's Ballet Across America Series curated by Misty Copeland and Justin Peck. This is the first step in what I have in mind for The Black Iris Project. I can't share all of what's up my sleeve just yet. But look out for the BIP. We're in formation and ready to go!

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A new flock of inmates has descended upon Litchfield Penitentiary, so of course tensions are running high. In the new trailer for the fourth season of "Orange Is the New Black," everyone seems on the verge of a breakdown. Lolly appears to be losing it, Red may be headed to solitary, Black Cindy is making enemies, and Piper is receiving threats. In other words, it's business as usual.

"Orange Is the New Black" returns to Netflix on June 17. 

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Do you remember the first time you thought that maybe -- just maybe -- there was more to reality than meets the eye? Maybe you had a hunch that your stuff came to life when you weren't looking. Or that the entire world was a fabrication you built up in your imagination, perhaps even an elaborate performance piece. Or that, as my high school science teacher dropped on us one fateful day, we're all just brains in a pan.

For many of us, these occasional "WTF" moments fade into the background as so-called life continually offers up more pressing matters. For artist Jess Johnson, however, the possibility of alternate realms of existence is far more than a half-baked conspiracy theory. Since she was a kid, growing up in small town in New Zealand, Johnson has had a nagging suspicion that there is a space beyond the real, where reality is made. And if only she could find the right portal, she'd know for sure.

Eventually, as an adult and an artist, Johnson decided to create the portal herself. To do so, she drags reality's cosmic underbelly into the real world through handmade drawings of impossible architecture, fractured language, floating, malleable bodies and kaleidoscopic patterns. If your 1990s Macintosh screensaver spiraled into a synchronized routine choreographed by an invisible tyrant inside your hard drive, it may look something like a Johnson drawing. 

In her perspective-warping images, rituals stripped of their meaning repeat on a loop, while undressed individuals assume yoga-like poses with wearisome monotony, like fleshy cogs in an eternally spinning machine. Dense patterns eat up every last inch of blank space, folding in on themselves to suggest an infinite expanse that is quietly closing in on you. It's a nightmarish realm built from pretty colors and oddly intriguing phrases, even if they don't quite make sense. 

What is this alternate world and how did it come to be? Johnson herself explains below. 

In an interview with Dylan Pasture you said that since you were a kid you "had this idea that there was more to the world than what was being revealed to me." Do you remember how this idea first occurred to you? 

Yeah, I do remember how that idea first occurred to me. When I was little I devised these games trying to catch the world around me in a trick. I remember being quite stuck on the idea that reality didn’t extend beyond what I could see. So if I was sauntering down the hallway and passed a door, I might suddenly jump into the room really fast in order to try and catch the room materializing from nothingness. I imagined that I may catch a glimpse of white fuzz like the static of a television channel after midnight -- this was New Zealand in the '80s.

Can you talk more about the experience of growing up in 1980s New Zealand?

I think the defining aspect of growing up in small town in New Zealand was isolation, which probably engendered a huge curiosity for worlds outside my own relatively small one. I found these windows to other worlds through books and movies. And I gravitated towards the stuff that was as far removed from my reality as possible; worlds so detailed that you could lose yourself in them. The idea of pulling a world into existence through sheer will and an abundance of detail is still really potent to me.

What were some of those books?

There’s a small handful of books that got embedded into my psyche and whose themes play out in my work: The Inverted World by Christopher Priest; everything that Octavia E. Butler wrote; a short story called "The Langoliers" by Stephen King; The Never Ending Story; Riddley Walker by Russell Hoban; and Dune by Frank Herbert. 

What were some of the visual influences that shaped your understanding of this alternate reality where reality is made?

In terms of visual influence in my work, I’m probably just a product of my upbringing and the '80s and '90s cultural influences of the time. Part of my formative mental stew was an interest in comic books, science fiction, horror movies, early video games, all that stuff. It's obvious that computer graphics play a big part in the visual "look" of my work but I have a pretty conflicted relationship with computers. Which is evidenced by my drawing everything by hand!

I think we’re all just really used to imagining how the world looks to machines and that why my imagery has this machine-like appearance. Most of what we look at every day has been designed digitally by a computer somewhere. It's like all our images have been fed though a machine at some point and regurgitated back to us. I’m just regurgitating it back to them as a drawn image.

How has the landscape of the Internet changed the shape of your imagined reality, if at all? 

I think about the Internet a lot but it's from this weird, outside place. For kids born into it there’s no such thing as "the Internet." For them it's the world. But all the wiring in my brain happened in a completely different world than it is today. Growing up in a small town, pre-Internet, I got really accustomed to going deep into myself for my entertainment.

Being by myself, with zero distractions, is a really comfortable state for me. Computers and the Internet makes me scattered and anxious. It's probably not a good thing to say about yourself as an artist but my kind of brain is like the last of the dinosaurs. I’m OK with that though. I like not understanding anything. It means we’re evolving.

So, no Internet when you're working?

My studio in New York is a tiny windowless room underneath the footpath in Delancey St. I think it used to be the basement’s storage closet. There's no Internet down there and my phone barely gets reception. I call it my rathole but I love it. It's a clean white box and all I have is a table with my pens. When I shut the door I am shutting out the whole world and I have complete control over my own universe. To me that feels like my natural state.

What came first -- your desire to make art or your interest in alternate layers or modes of reality? How did one influence the other?

I think the two formed simultaneously as a kid but it was only as an adult that I merged them together. It took me a long time to realize that I could. I was a good artist as a teenager, but then I went to art school and I lost any confidence I had. I think I was intimidated by all the contemporary art world ideology. I decided I was lacking in what I knew about art and I needed to learn more and get smart enough before I could ever enter that "dialogue" as an artist. I basically got intimidated and split my world into two.

What did the work you made in art school look like? 

At school I would make stuff that I thought looked like "proper" art, but at home I had all these secret notebooks that I would channel all the real stuff into. There was nothing powering the other "art" so eventually it petered out. I dropped away after art school and did a bunch of other things but always kept up my notebooks. It wasn’t until I was much older and cared less about what people thought that I started taking things from my notebooks and making them into bigger drawings. It built from there.

Would you say that most of your artworks allude to a specific alternate world that you've constructed? Does this alternate reality have a name? 

No, the world doesn’t have a name. I think it might actually kill it to name it! I think the world acts more as a placeholder. It's like a stage in my head that I can project things onto and play things out. Over time the stage set has grown more complex. There’s been an emergence of specific architecture and rituals and social hierarchies between the characters. I constantly reference back into early drawings so an internal dialogue and logic has been built up over time. It’s got to this point where it’s almost self-generating and I can just watch it play out on the paper.

Many of your drawings feature nude or scantily clad men, often contorted into strange shapes.You've described them as being “caught in these repetitive .gif cycles." What is the relationship of these men to the men on Earth? 

I don’t actually think of them as men. Although I’m often asked why I only draw men so I guess they must present as that. I think of the bodies I draw as neutral, unformed as people. I strip them of individual signifiers; hair, clothes, genitalia. They’re basically flesh receptacles awaiting imprinting.

I’m not sure about what the positions mean. I’m not sure if the figures are in positions of supplication or torture. It floats between the two. It's like they’re manipulated into these contortions but they’re unaware of their actions. If I’m being really didactic in making connections between the real world and my work, the contortions probably reflect something about societal pressures to perform and fit in. I definitely feel tense and pressed upon a lot of the time when I’m outside in the world ... so maybe I punish the figures in my work in similar ways?

How do you conjure the language that appears in your work? 

One of my favorite books is Riddley Walker by Russell Hoban. It’s set in a post-apocalyptic world that is written in this strange re-constructed language. In the book a new world has been formed from the wreckage of the old. Language itself has been shattered and put back together. I think thats what I’m trying to do with the language in my work. The world is being dragged into existence drawing by drawing and the language is gaining form at the same time. The language is still muddy and nebulous to me but it might gain structure over time.

Do you draw from certain texts or manifestos or are the sayings formed in your imagination? 

I have a document on my computer of words and phrases. Whenever I start a new drawing I open it up and look through it. The text is almost always the starting point. The number of letters will give me my mathematical starting point of how to arrange the words on the page. The compositions all hinge from there. 

The phrases are often rhythmic and insistent. I choose them because they get stuck in loop like a thought-worm. I might find words in science fiction books or strange schools of thought. Mostly I'm attracted to made-up words. Made up by me or other people. I’m bad at remembering my references because often it's the shape or the sound that attracts me and I might morph the spelling into something else.

Can you describe your process for the two-dimensional works, specifically how the handmade overlaps with digital processes?

I draw my images by hand because thats the first tool I ever picked up. Drawing's been with me since a kid and it's how I get my thoughts out. I don't know how to do that any another way except for writing, but a lot of my thoughts are so murky that I don’t know how to fit them into language.

Do you ever work digitally?

I’m not interested in creating digital images on a computer. Foremost because I hate sitting in front of a computer and secondly because I need something to do in the studio. I think everyone devises an art practice to suit their psychology. I like spending a lot of time by myself so I make artwork that is labor intensive and doesn’t require much interaction with others. The time and labor is also a really important part of the work. It's like I need those long hours staring at paper in the studio to let the imagery rise to the surface. The images couldn’t happen quickly. It's more of a slow dredging process.

Some of your drawings are then turned into virtual reality animations. How is this done? 

After I draw the pictures, Simon Ward, my video collaborator, turns them into animations. I give them to Simon as scans and he makes the creative jumps to move them from 2D into a 3D world. But it's important to us that the animations still retain this drawn, human quality. If the world were created entirely digitally it would be a really cold place. Making the human hand visible in the drawings and digital works seeds it with this little life-force. It attracts the psyche instead of repelling it as completely digital worlds can have a tendency to do.

Drawing has always been a really solitary and insular process but I love being able to hand over my work and see the world expand in these unexpected ways outside of my studio. It just requires the right people with a shared sensibility.

Your work reminds me a lot of psychedelic Japanese work from artists like Keiichi Tanaami. Would you describe your work as psychedelic? 

I’m pretty comfortable with my work being described as psychedelic, although I find a lot of psychedelic work quite annoying, I think because I recognize the same compulsions in myself. I have a tendency to get lost drawing repetitive pattern and endless detail but I hate indulging it just for its own sake. It's like mystic noodling or being on the receiving end of someone's long drug monologue. If I let it go unchecked I’ll just create this impenetrable wall of pattern. So I try to channel this compulsion to a purpose, into building a world and ascribing a structure. I think all the repetitive patterning that I do in my drawings lulls me into a place where my thoughts can spiral into these really interesting places. It's like a really long-winded drug experience that I don’t need to take drugs to have.

What do you see as the relationship between drugs and technology in terms of expanding consciousness? How does art fit in? 

I like taking drugs occasionally but I can’t make anything when I do. I prefer this way because at least I’ve produced something at the end of it.

I listened to this scenario described by Terence McKenna on a podcast -- he’s an American psychonaut who spoke a lot about virtual realities. He had a very Arcadian vision of technology. In it he described a speculative future where the world was once again in lush ecological harmony and humans roam the planet in small familial groups as they once did in the Pleistocene era. But behind people's eyes was evidence of an incredibly advanced technological civilization. McKenna saw technology as becoming smaller and smaller, until it disappeared and became invisible.

In this future, "technology" was ingested like mushroom spores and its results were cellular and transhuman. The result being a connected human intellect and consciousness and a dissolution of boundaries. Work and disease had been eradicated and people just roamed around playing on the galactic web of consciousness that streamed behind their eyes. There was so much happening in their minds that they had lost the desire to labor and build cities and enact all the physical havoc upon the earth.

I’m really attracted to this idea of technology taken in this direction. It’s very psychedelic ... that human consciousness can be enhanced and expanded via technology to do incredible things and create harmony. As opposed to the way we currently engage with technology, which is to let our phones do all the hard work for us like reading maps or remembering information while our brains turn to attention-deficient hamster mush.

What are you working on next? 

In July I’ll be spending a month in Edinburgh for an exhibition at the University of Edinburgh’s Talbot Rice Gallery. My collaborator Simon Ward is coming over from New Zealand and we are going to bunker down in a work space at the Uni to make our next virtual reality artwork for Oculus Rift. Aside from that I’m just drawing in my studio. Eventually I’d like to have a show in New York.

Johnson's work is currently on view at Jack Hanley Gallery in San Francisco, part of the group exhibition "Future Nature."

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Cyndi Lauper wants girls to have fun... and equal pay! 

The iconic singer, whose new album, "Detour," is out today, stopped by The Late Late Show with James Corden on Monday night to perform her song "Girls Just Wanna Have Fun" with a feminist twist. With some (hilarious) help from Corden, Lauper parodied her famous hit and sang "Girls Just Want Equal Funds." 

A few favorite lyrics include: "Guys, if she’s mad it’s not PMS / It’s cause you do the same job but she’s makin’ less / Don’t need no Midol just need more income / Cause girls they want equal funds / Oh girls just want equal funds!" 

Check out the video of the duo's performance, complete with matching pink wigs.

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If you were planning to replace The Feminine Mystique with Fifty Shades of Grey on your teenage daughter, niece or sidekick's feminist recommended reading list, a new study suggests you pump the brakes.

The study, which was published in the journal Archives of Sexual Behavior, surveyed 715 young women and found that those who had read E.L. James' series Fifty Shades of Grey exhibited higher levels of ambivalent, benevolent, and hostile sexism. Subjects who found the books "romantic," in particular, showed more ambivalent and benevolent sexism.

Benevolent sexism might manifest in romance-novel tropes, like believing a woman should be placed on a pedestal, protected by a strong male companion, and treated as essentially different and more delicate than a man. The juxtaposition of the sexually innocent, weak-willed and fragile Anastasia Steele with dominant Christian, who expresses his love by protecting her from the outside world while expecting total obedience and gratification from her, fits rather neatly into this paradigm. 

This trope isn't new to the romance world with Fifty Shades, and bodice-ripper fans have been pushing back for years against the idea that reading novels about women falling in love and having, in many cases, submissive sexual relationships is inherently anti-feminist. Romance author Sarah MacLean argued to The Atlantic, "we have to give ourselves permission as women to have fantasies. We aren't saying that men should threaten sexual dominance or harassment or abuse. But it's okay if we, at some point, find the idea of that threat hot." 

So is it Fifty Shades feminists should avoid? Are all romance novels featuring traditional gender roles in question? 

Well, to begin with, it's unclear from the study, which focused entirely on 18- to 24-year-old women, whether reading Fifty Shades led to higher levels of sexist beliefs, or whether harboring those beliefs to begin with drew certain young women to read the series. At a relatively young and malleable age, readers might be more easily influenced by the media they're consuming, but it's entirely possible that women who don't find traditional gender roles romantic simply never wanted to read the books to begin with. 

As many long-time romance readers know, however, reading intense romance fiction like Fifty Shades is healthiest with a critical awareness of its strong fantasy elements. In real life, a relationship like Christian and Ana's wouldn't play out at all like it does on the page, but that doesn't mean it's wrong to enjoy the escapism of the story if you want to -- just remember not to go searching for a controlling dominant with poor boundaries of your own.

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"My grandmother gave me my first camera, and I learned how to photograph by photographing her," photographer Rachel Cox explained to The Huffington Post. "Over the years this just came to be something I did without question, documenting her life and environment."

When Cox's grandmother was diagnosed with a degenerative brain disease, and told she had only a couple of years left to live, the photographer focused her efforts on crafting a thorough and accurate documentation of the woman her grandmother was. "I wanted to construct a type of portrait that I could revisit after she was gone," she said.

In a statement on her website, Cox describes her relationship with her grandmother as "tumultuous," full of the dissimilar tastes, conflicting beliefs and gaps in understanding that often stem from two individuals from such different generations and perspectives. Once her grandmother was diagnosed, Cox felt the extreme pressure to reconcile and reconnect, as soon as possible and by any means necessary. For example, in the photo "Same Knees," Cox frames her grandmother's leg alongside her own, searching for even a genetic link. 

Throughout the project, titled "Shiny Ghost," Cox pondered the ethical implications of documenting such a harrowing situation, both as an artist and as a granddaughter. "I asked myself a lot of questions about where the line was," Cox said. "Do I photograph her when she is not aware? Should I show her when some might say she was looking, 'her worst'? And primarily, how do I make this series about us, or even me, and not about the disease?"

Cox resolved to take photos only when her grandmother was coherent and aware of the camera. But then, her grandmother died unexpectedly, in what Cox thought to be only the middle of the series. When she heard the news, Cox asked the funeral home to wait to prepare the body so she could take a few final photographs. "Amazingly they were very cooperative and I spent many hours with her, just photographing," she recalled. "It was the most exhilarating yet emotionally challenging thing I have ever done. And in the end, I only use one image from this shoot, a self-portrait of us together, the last time our bodies would share the same space."

Looking back on the series, Cox describes it as a response to the idea of unconditional love, especially as it pertains to a family member. In the face of death, a person might experience a sudden desire to feel connected, to absolve all problems and disagreements for the sake of unequivocal love. "The scrutiny and guilt that simultaneously filled me when I was desperately seeking ways to relate to her make the images appear frantic, candid, but also somewhat documentary," the artist said.

Beyond any political disagreements and culture clashes, there was something transcendent about Cox's newfound connection with her grandmother. A kind of connection that took the trying photography process to realize in full. "The images reveal a connection I hadn’t seen initially," she added, "constituted of mutual vulnerability and trust, which for me is the best type of relationship I could have had with her."

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The "Antiques Roadshow” may be known for surprises, but few like this.

A piece of artwork that was valued at around $50,000 by the PBS TV show has led to an about-face by the creators after it was revealed to be the handiwork of a high school art student.

The so-called “grotesque face jug," which features an assortment of eyes, noses and mouths, managed to fool its appraiser, who estimated that the piece dated as far back as the late 19th century and likened it to a Picasso.

As it turns out, it’s far more recent than that — say the early 1970s.

“The whole thing was shocking. I’ve laughed about it for weeks,” Betsy Soule, who created the pot, told The Huffington Post Tuesday.

The former artist, who now trains horses for a living in Oregon, said she gave the piece away to a friend years ago. When it was featured on the TV show back in January, she said a friend of hers noticed it right away and contacted her and the show.

"I couldn't believe it. It was really fantastic,” she recalled.

While speaking to appraiser Stephen L. Fletcher on the program, the face's new owner, Alvin Barr, said he purchased the piece of art at an estate sale in Eugene, Oregon for $300 — a price he thought was a bit steep at the time.

“It was up in barn. It was covered with dirt and straw. Looked like some chicken droppings were on it. It was very dirty. I had to have it. It speaks to me,” Barr told Fletcher while calling it “very different.”

Fletcher very much agreed with that last part.

"I've never seen anything quite like it, ever,” he said, after estimating its value as "$30,000 to $50,000 or more."

"When we look at the base clay, it's red ware, and the potter has used an impressive array of techniques to come up with this extraordinary texture,” he said. “This, in its own way, is really over the top. It's bizarre and wonderful. You even see a little bit of, like, Pablo Picasso going on here. It's a little difficult to identify precisely when this was made, but I think it's probably late 19th or early 20th century."

In February, the show updated viewers about its true origin on their website. Fletcher also admitted to his goof.

"As far as its age is concerned, I was fooled, as were some of my colleagues," he said in a statement. "The techniques of making pottery, in many ways, haven’t changed for centuries. Obviously, I was mistaken as to its age by 60 to 80 years. I feel the value at auction, based on its quality and artistic merit, is in the $3,000-$5,000 range. Still not bad for a high schooler in Oregon.”

Soule described herself as "shocked" by the news, while calling the pot “the biggest and the best one” in her scattered art collection -- not a single piece of which she's ever sold.

Asked if she was following any example or tutorial during its creation, she only credited the "free rein" given to her by her art instructor. “I just made it because it was fun and I don't know, the faces just came flying out of me. I don't know where it came from."

Soule said she has since spoken to Barr about his purchase and, despite his reversed windfall, he’s still extremely pleased with it.

“He's darling. He really, really likes the pot and when they put that huge value on it he put it in a closet [as protection],” she said. Now, knowing its actual value, she said he has returned it to its original display in his living room to enjoy.

“I would have given it to him if I knew it made him that happy,” she said.

Asked if she plans to make any more art, Soule said her friends are certainly on her heels to get back in the studio now that she’s received national recognition — as well as a five-figure value, however since amended. For now, she said she's just happy enjoying her 15 minutes of fame.

H/t Hyperallergic

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Before Bono became the world-famous humanitarian and frontman of the Irish rock band U2, he was Paul David Hewson from Dublin.

The son of a Roman Catholic dad and a Protestant mother, Bono grew up during a time of sectarian conflict and witnessed the human cost of militant belief. So it’s no surprise that he became disenchanted with the idea of organized religion, turning to music instead for that wild, spiritual high.

As a bandleader and songwriter, Bono has helped infuse U2's music with spirituality from the start -- expressing the kind of faith that is filled with both skepticism and a deep yearning for answers.

The musician and advocate, whose ONE organization campaigns to fight global poverty and disease, also engages with issues of faith away from his role as a rock star. Bono has offered thoughtful critiques of Christian culture, written introductions to Christian books, engaged in dialogue with evangelical leaders, and intersperses his live performances with lines from one of his favorite book of the of Bible, the Psalms. 

Throughout it all, Bono advocates for a spirituality that is raw, honest and acknowledges the fact that there are no easy answers when it comes to faith.  

In honor of Bono's 56th birthday, which falls on May 10, HuffPost Religion has put together this list of nine times Bono was spot on about what it's like to search for God, however long and complex that journey is. 

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Relationships tend to follow a certain pattern: In the beginning, you're preoccupied with things like what to wear and what to eat. Fast forward a year or so later and it's all burritos and hogging the sheets.

Brooklyn-based cartoonist Sarah C. Andersen captures both stages of relationships in quirky comics inspired by her boyfriend of over two years. 

"Writing about relationships is very easy for me because I just write about my own," Andersen told The Huffington Post. 

Andersen graduated from the Maryland Institute College of Art in 2014. She recently published her first book of illustrations titled "Adulthood Is A Myth."

Andersen's personal favorite comic in the series is one featuring the girlfriend eating a salad on the first date and then scarfing down a burrito in three bites just a couples of dates down the line.

"I always get such bad nerves about eating in front of a new date," Andersen said. "It kills me that dinner dates are standard because eating when you're nervous is so awkward. One of my favorite parts of a relationship is getting to the comfort level where I'm no longer self conscious, and then I ultimately reveal my true self as someone who loves to devour food -- specifically, burritos."

Check out more of Andersen's relatable comics below.

H/T College Humor

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It began, as these things do, when 30-year-old Mihaela Noroc quit her job on a whim. She had a little bit of money saved up and decided it was time to travel, to capture her adventures on camera.

But she didn’t snap pics of herself standing on a dramatic cliff, selfie stick in clutch. She didn’t take super close-up macro shots of in-focus flora with fuzzy skyline backdrops. Instead she took pictures of the people she met -- women, particularly women who struck her as beautiful.

Her aim in cataloguing beautiful subjects -- which she posts on her popular blog, The Atlas of Beauty -- is "to balance all the negativity we see in the media." 

"Every day, when we watch mass media we see an Atlas of Wars, Conflicts and Fear," Noroc writes of her project online. "People are fighting just because they are different, because they have a different religion, culture or race."

Noroc’s conception of universal beauty is an individual confidently representing her environment, posing as naturally as possible. Most of the women she photographs have never had a professional portrait taken, which Noroc counts as a big benefit; there’s less posturing involved, and the focus is not on catering to a broad audience of viewers. Instead, the women in her photos stand proudly, gazing head-on at the camera. 

"After photographing women in more than 45 countries I can say that beauty is everywhere, and it’s not a matter of cosmetics, money, race or social status, but more about being yourself," Noroc writes. "Global trends make us look and behave the same, but we are beautiful because we are different."

Scrolling through The Atlas of Beauty, beauty becomes not a universal standard, but a complicated tapestry.

The below photos and captions are from Mihaela Noroc's The Atlas of Beauty blog.

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There are few spaces left in the world that are free of cell phones. Lin-Manuel Miranda wants the theater to remain one of those spaces. 

After Tuesday night's performance of Miranda's record-breaking smash musical "Hamilton," the playwright and actor sent a message to fans via Twitter, making it clear how he feels about audience members who are compelled to snap a verboten picture of his show. 

Seriously, is it so hard to resist the urge to document everything for approximately two and a half hours, especially when most theaters expressly forbid the taking of photographs or use of recording devices during the show?

While it may seem innocent to want to Instagram Daveed Diggs' super-fast rap as the Marquis de Lafayette, as Playbill.com explains, there's usually some copyright and intellectual property issues that make that a terrible, terrible idea.

And aside from the legal implications, it is -- how shall we put this -- rude as hell to put a phone between yourself and a work of art that many, many people have dedicated countless hours to in order to provide this one-of-a-kind experience for you. Sure, the curtain of "Hamilton" will rise and fall the next night, and the one after that, but the beauty of live theater is that this very performance, with this very crowd, can only happen once in the entire history of the universe. Don't muddle it by bringing social media into it -- just appreciate the performance, and soak it all in, for what it is.

Beyond all that, do you really think your smartphone is going to capture a better-looking shot than all the widely available professional photos of what might be the most famous Broadway show right now? Are you that guy that holds his iPhone up above a concert crowd, blocking the view for an entire song so you can put it on YouTube later? Do you really want to be that guy? 

Better to hang out in your $1,000 seat, realize how lucky you are to be alive right now, and keep that phone in your pocket. When it comes to seeing "Hamilton" for the first time, you will not want to throw away your shot. 

Now back to your regularly scheduled Miranda tweets, where he can resume being a bright ray of sunshine in this dark world:

And if you need even more convincing, let Patti LuPone's knack for confiscating theater patrons' phones be your last warning.

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One only has to look at gold for a moment to catch a glimpse of its eternal mystique. Its sacred powers are evident in its mellow luminescence, a quiet visual hum that draws you closer, hypnotized. Its glow radiating heat, power, holiness and timelessness.

For artist Lina Iris Viktor, gold is her muse. "It is one of the softest, most malleable metals in existence, yet, in its purest form (24 karats) it is practically indestructible," the artist explained to The Huffington Post.

"Since its discovery, humans have been struck by its beauty, resonance, and otherworldliness," Viktor continued. And she's right. The substance has bewitched cultures around the world for centuries, from the men who risked their lives to mine for it, to the wars waged in its honor. 

"All of this is just the outcome of gold having found its way to our little planet," Viktor mused. "In actuality, what makes gold so remarkable is the cosmic story of its creation in a supernova -- and how it had to travel across the seas of the cosmos to be deposited on our little planet."

Viktor has been an artist since she can remember. As a kid she performed in plays and films before switching to film production as an undergraduate. After graduating she studied photography at The School of Visual Arts in New York, where she first became immersed in the world of design. Craving the opportunity to create more bold and imaginative work, Viktor transitioned to the realm of fine art in 2013. 

Viktor's works, reminiscent of spiritual tapestries past and future, often center around a photograph of the artist herself. However, as she explains: "The image is not about self, but rather dis-identification, abstraction and transformation."

Viktor paints her body, normally in shades of black, white, gold and Majorelle blue, before snapping her portrait. The image is then digitally enhanced and printed onto a canvas, at which point Viktor paints and guilds until, in her words, the image "becomes a seamless conversation between form and the perceived patterning of the universe that surrounds it."

She describes the works as sculptural, due to the materials that pile up on the canvas over time.  

The resulting canvases drape Viktor's barely recognizable form in impenetrable blacks, deep blues and weightless gold that skims atop their surface. The colors, each rife with symbolism and history, mingle and converge to form a geometry of their own creation. 

The multimedia works convey the harmony between an individual and the cosmos surrounding her, visualizing the incomprehensible truth that we're all made of stardust. In this sense, Viktor's work is reminiscent of Yayoi Kusama's, the Japanese artist who consistently aims to dissolve the self via her artwork. As Kusama puts it: "When we obliterate nature and our bodies with polka dots we become part of the unity of our environments."

Viktor cites Kusama along with artists like Kerry James Marshall, Kara Walker, Vanessa Beecroft and Constantin Brancusi as inspirations. However, many of her ideas also stem from the realms of mathematics, science and spirituality. "I study the dream paintings of indigenous Australians, Ancient Egyptian hieroglyphs and their sacred sciences, the cosmological narratives of the Dogon in Mali, and African fractals present within much of the architecture and textiles across the continent... All of these cultures have a divine understanding of the dimensions beyond our earthly plane."

I discovered Viktor's work after speaking with curator Ni Sandy about the Afrofuturist artists who inspired her. Although Viktor is hesitant to describe her work as Afrofuturist, as she is with any label, she can see how the connection would be drawn. 

"When I consider Afrofuturism, I simply think that it is a vocabulary (visual or written) that finds its origins in the narratives, mythologies, and practices that are akin to various African cultures of the past and presen t... Works that fall within this category often have a spiritual or otherworldly aura about them, and tend to border on magical-realism -- i.e. there are components identifiable as existing within the natural world, yet there are sprinkles of the 'supernatural' throughout, of other dimensions and realms that the eye cannot always see."

One of gold's many powers is its virtual immortality. Both as an object of currency and something far more ethereal, gold has rarely wavered in its value, dating back to the days of Ancient Egypt. As Viktor said: "They encased those who had passed in golden tombs and sarcophagi to send them on their journey into the next world. Gold was sacred, a protective agent that was representative of the immortality of the soul, hence why it was used so abundantly in preparing the passageway between worlds. It was not regarded as having monetary value, but rather spiritual value."

Like her predecessors, Viktor incorporates gold into her artworks so they will last forever. "Most artists use gold very frugally because it is so prized and expensive," she noted. "I follow the tradition of the Ancient Egyptians. I lace my work with gold in the hopes that these canvases can live on in perpetuity long after I am gone."

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