FROM Corinna Gardner
Does the March for Science need its own pussyhat? The impact of the Women's March following President Trump's inauguration in January was amplified by the pink knitted pussyhat handmade and worn by millions of marchers. It's an example of "craftivism" that wound up being acquired by the prestigious Victoria & Albert Museum in London for their Rapid Response collecting gallery. Now protesters are preparing for the March for Science to take place on April 22, Earth Day, with the goal of drawing attention to the need for science-based policy making and increased funding of the NIH. Brain hat with kitty-cat ears Photo courtesy Kristen McDonnell/StudioKnit Some participants are trying to popularize yarn hats tailored to science, such as a crocheted hat that resembles a brain. But not all organizers agree that marchers for science need a unifying symbol. DnA talks to the organizer of LA's March for Science, a curator at the V&A Museum and pussyhat co-creator Jayna Zweiman.
Farewell LA freeways, Peter Shire is back Angelenos don't want more freeways but we seem not to want mass transit either. Metro has killed the 710 freeway extension, and bus and train ridership is down across the region. What's the future of getting around in LA? And, Peter Shire is having a comeback. What attracts a new generation to his playful ceramics and furniture?
Hua Hsu: A Floating Chinaman Author Hua Hsu stops by to discuss his book A Floating Chinaman, recounting the life of 1930's actor/writer H.T. Tsiang and his struggles entering the American literary world.
Industry insights and lessons learned from memorable guests We have interesting guests on The Business, and sometimes our conversations are too long to fit into one show. This week we give you stories that were too good to leave on the cutting room floor, including some sharp insights on making it in the industry from David Mandel, David Simon, Shawn Levy and Matt Reeves.
George Saunders: Lincoln in the Bardo (Part I) Lincoln in the Bardo dramatizes a grieving President Lincoln as he visits the grave of his beloved son Willie, who died at age eleven. In the novel, the buried dead believe they're not dead -- "they're sick and refer to their coffins as "sick boxes."