Chung becomes art's medulla oblongata

A whirling Cuisinart of ink, pencil and paper. An ameobic melange of creative locomotion careening headlong into impassioned text. A savage mating ground of ideas and intentions, word and image. An amorphous breeding pool whose mechanisms of generation and creation lie buried beneath a compost heap of soda cans, old magazines, discarded sketches and used columns. This is the nature of the DP art department's instinctive primal reactions springing from an aesthetic medulla oblongata. Fredrick Chung has become that medulla oblongata. From his seat in the center of this mysterious swirling nebula, Chung will infuse a banal sea of gray text with a torrent of charged image. When he was first asked to take the job, Chung was hesitant. As a Design of the Environment student, Chung already spends countless hours "manipulating and intervening in spacial constructs," which, depending on who you ask, is either a pseudo-religion or just plain pseudo. Serving as the coagulator for the whims of writers and the egos of artists did not present itself as quite the "bitchin' mecca." But as time went on the details of his quandry spread throughout his mates-in-design. "Fred, think of the power, the prestige," they said. With visions of playing with almost Nintendo-esque art power, Chung decided to take the job, answering "yea" instinctively, like the medulla oblongata he would soon become. On the outside, Chung appears to be a well-spring of sincerity and good intention. Easy to laugh, smile at the ready, auras of boundless humanitarianism eflouresce from the venerable Chung. But purcolating beneath that veneer of benevolence is a stealthy agenda, forged by years of immersion in comics replete with tales of smooth cats that dream of world domination and total control. Chung may finally be the one to harness the primordial energy that has reined out of control in the corner of the DP for past year, the kinetic bodyslam that autocannibalized its last leader.