L Quad: De Anza's barren desert for current and future students
Justin Taylor
Issue date: 2/8/10 Section: Opinion
Nary a word is spoken between intermingling wanderers traversing the L Quad's span; a ghost town of sorts, housing only refugees from the overcrowded and bustling Hinson Center. The landscape is dim and uninviting. The only light that shines here is from the malfunctioning soda machines.
"Not one single soda machine will take my dollar!" is heard being cried out by a thirsty student who has somehow found himself in the glummer part of campus. "They always do that," said 19-year-old photography major Rober Deluna. "Sometimes they just keep your dollar."
Once a mecca for language arts, social science and business students, the L Quad is now a barren wasteland with not a single attractive quality. The dried up fountain proudly stands to symbolize an era where aesthetic value is of little concern to a broken academia.
Wilted trees offer little visual relief to the gloomy picture. Where once stood greener pastures, now desolation triumphs the eastern wing of campus. Where once stood a delicious coffee shop, now lays only the old, unlit Espresso sign.
This time of year, especially, does the scant and dwindled nature of the L Quad become so apparent. Offering no refuge from the rain since the umbrellas have all disappeared, the Hinson Center becomes the default hub for students trapped at De Anza for hours on end.
One piece of artwork, a colorful 52 foot long mural, almost makes up for this lack of appeal. But, this too, is a tainted beauty.
The mural, which was originally meant to represent the multicultural diversity of our school, now celebrates only the harsh realities of financial turmoil since its semi-restoration by professional artist and former De Anza student Erik White. He was never paid for the work. He was eventually given $2,500 from an anonymous donation for his work, but admits that because of financial issues, "the mural was not fully restored; I merely preserved it for a decade or so."
Another aspect in need of restoration are the wooden benches which are uncomfortable and rarely used by students. Some are adorned with plaques dedicated to the memory of past faculty members. "These people must be rolling in their grave," says film major Joey Pirzada, 21. He also agrees the quad needs sprucing up.
"Not one single soda machine will take my dollar!" is heard being cried out by a thirsty student who has somehow found himself in the glummer part of campus. "They always do that," said 19-year-old photography major Rober Deluna. "Sometimes they just keep your dollar."
Once a mecca for language arts, social science and business students, the L Quad is now a barren wasteland with not a single attractive quality. The dried up fountain proudly stands to symbolize an era where aesthetic value is of little concern to a broken academia.
Wilted trees offer little visual relief to the gloomy picture. Where once stood greener pastures, now desolation triumphs the eastern wing of campus. Where once stood a delicious coffee shop, now lays only the old, unlit Espresso sign.
This time of year, especially, does the scant and dwindled nature of the L Quad become so apparent. Offering no refuge from the rain since the umbrellas have all disappeared, the Hinson Center becomes the default hub for students trapped at De Anza for hours on end.
One piece of artwork, a colorful 52 foot long mural, almost makes up for this lack of appeal. But, this too, is a tainted beauty.
The mural, which was originally meant to represent the multicultural diversity of our school, now celebrates only the harsh realities of financial turmoil since its semi-restoration by professional artist and former De Anza student Erik White. He was never paid for the work. He was eventually given $2,500 from an anonymous donation for his work, but admits that because of financial issues, "the mural was not fully restored; I merely preserved it for a decade or so."
Another aspect in need of restoration are the wooden benches which are uncomfortable and rarely used by students. Some are adorned with plaques dedicated to the memory of past faculty members. "These people must be rolling in their grave," says film major Joey Pirzada, 21. He also agrees the quad needs sprucing up.
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