DISSECT DRAFT

The episode of Dicet explores the story behind a sculpture called Rigid Furrow, also known as the brain, located in Iowa City. The sculpture was created by artist Peter Randall Page and represents peace and unity. Students believe that touching the sculpture before exams brings good luck. However, a disturbing phenomenon emerged where intoxicated students would urinate on the sculpture, known as the piss rock. Interviews with male students revealed that this behavior was driven by tradition, camaraderie, and impulsivity. This disrespectful act reduces the artwork to an unintended obstacle for drunken individuals. Despite our search for deeper meaning, it seems that there is none, highlighting the unfortunate reality of intoxicated behavior. Hello there, curious minds. Welcome to a peculiar episode of Dicet, a singular broadcast concocted for my MA4 assignment under the watchful eye or insightful eye of Nora Connelly. I'm your investigator of rhetoric's riddles, Andan Eldeen. Today's story unfolds in the dimly lit corners of academia. Alright fellow truth seekers, let's dive into the backstory behind this episode. Understanding my personal connection to the brain and its history is key to unraveling the mysteries ahead. Growing up just a stone's throw from downtown Iowa City, I witnessed its evolution into a thriving community firsthand. While not smack dab in the heart of campus, my childhood was filled with visits to the public library with my siblings and exploring Revival, a quaint store owned by a family friend. I can still recall the excitement when I installed those garden troughs outside the library, or the disappointment when they moved the playground forever altering its familiar ambience. The most striking transformation was the influx of public art adorned the campus. Murals began to grace the walls and peculiar statues and sculptures appeared in unexpected places like the brain we're about to dissect. Dear listeners, keep your senses sharp of some word of this tale that meets the eye. After diving into its origins, I uncovered a fascinating narrative surrounding this colossal piece of stone. Known formally as Rigid Furrow, or as I called it earlier, the brain, this sculpture is the brainchild of Peter Randall Page, a British artist captivated by the intricate geometries found in nature. The Rigid Furrow, weighing in at a staggering 19 tons, stands proudly in front of the Conrad Center on 213 North Clinton Street, a testament to Randall Page's meticulous craftsmanship. Its surface, painstakingly carved by hand, features a continuous ridge flanked by V-shaped furrows, meticulously arranged to maintain symmetry. The Rigid Furrow, or as I called it earlier, the brainchild of Peter Randall Page, stands proudly in front of the Conrad Center on 213 North Clinton Street, a testament to Randall Page's meticulous craftsmanship. The sea at command will awe and respect. Craving granite with such precision is no small undertaking. What was the artist's intent behind this monumental creation, you might ask? Randall Page envisioned his sculpture as a symbol of peace and unity, drawing parallels between its labyrinth contours and the convolutions of the human brain. Now, the big question remains, how did the students of campus react to this imposing presence in their midst? Now, the big question remains, now, a big question you might have, how, now, a clear question, now, a question that you may have, now, you may be thinking, how did the students of Iowa campus, how did the students of Iowa campus react to this imposing brain rock that was in the middle of the walkway? Ah, the plot thickens as we uncover the curious phenomenon surrounding the brain rock, the birth of the lucky rock legend. It seems that within, it seems that within the history of the University of Iowa lore, touching this enigmatic boulder before a test or exam is believed to bestow good fortune upon the daring student. According to the university's own narrative, the brain rock holds the key to academic success. Tour guides make sure to point out the prospective students with this captivating tale during campus explorations, painting the rock as a beacon of hope amidst the rigors of academia. Painting the rock as a beacon of hope amidst the troubles of college. But is there any truth to this superstition? But is there any truth to this superstition? My investigations unearthed a fascinating transpanning from 2011 to roughly 2015, where the brain rock became a symbol of luck. Students, whether skeptics or believers, would flock to it before an exam with hope. Students, whether skeptics or believers, would flock to it before an exam or a test, hoping for a touch of its purported magic to bolster their academic endeavors. Now, let's hear from a former Iowa student who witnessed the rock's arrival and the birth of its legend firsthand. Now, students have claimed, students who were around, students who witnessed the rock's arrival and the birth of the legend firsthand claimed that the rock was just a simple symbol of hope and gave meaning to campus, that gave meaning to the art, gave meaning to the art around campus and made it more fun. Prepare to dive into the memories of a yesteryear. Prepare to dive into the memories of an older student as we uncover the truth behind the brain rock's not-so-innocent reputation. Prepare to dive into the memories of a past student. Prepare to dive into the memories of an alumni as we uncover the truth behind the rock's not-so-innocent reputation. Hold on to your seats, listeners, as we uncover a disturbing twist in the tale of the brain rock, one that plunges us into the murky depths of campus culture. It seems that amidst the frenzy of Iowa's bustling student population, a new legend emerged, the infamous piss rock. Picture this. The University of Iowa is abuzz with activity as students flood into Iowa City to kick off the school year. With the chaos of movies and full-swing Snapchat comes the stage for documenting mayhem. Thanks to a public story accessible to students via their school email addresses. But amidst the snapshots of dorm room shenanigans on campus happening, a darker side of student behavior emerges. Enter the piss rock, an alternate interpretation of the Ridge and Furrow sculpture. It appears that in the eyes of some, this revered symbol of artistry has been reduced to a crude source of entertainment. According to eyewitness accounts, intoxicated male students see the brain rock as a prime spot for relieving themselves, aiming their streams at the top ridge and marveling at the cascading liquid as it navigates the sculpture's contours. It's a shocking revelation that sheds light on the less savory aspects of campus life. Let's now hear from a witness who can shed more light on this disturbing phenomenon. Prepare yourselves for first-hand accounts of the piss rock's reign of infamy. Now let's unravel the mystery behind the peculiar tradition of marking the brain rock, an act that goes beyond mere amusement. I dive deeper, seeking insight into the motivations behind this unconventional behavior. Enter the voices of those who have partaken in this ritualistic act. Though candid interviews with male students, I aim to uncover the underlying reasons for choosing the brain rock as a canvas in their late-night escapees. Was there a deeper meaning behind the act, or was it simply a matter of seizing a moment of drunken revelry? These interviews shed light on the complex interplay of tradition, camaraderie, and youthful impulsivity that fueled this curious phenomenon. Join me as we listen to the perspectives of those who have stood atop the piss rock, searching for a meaning in the midst of chaos. Prepare to explore the sight of the piss rock perpetrators. In a sobering conclusion, it becomes evident that the meticulous crafted artistry of Peter Randall Page has been reduced to an unintended obstacle course for inebriated individuals in need of relief. Despite our search for a deeper meaning, it appears that there is no grand symbolism behind this act, just the unfortunate reality of intoxicated behavior. The brain rock, origin furrow, once a symbol of artistic inspiration, now bears witness to the bazaar instincts of human nature. I'm Anden Aldean, and I appreciate you joining me on this journey of discovery through Dissect. Until next time, if there is one, dear listeners, stay curious.