Barista Coffee Art

Tulsa Baristas Show Off At Latte Art Competition

Posted: May 08, 2009 9:13 PM CDT Updated: May 09, 2009 7:50 AM CDT

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• Tulsa Baristas Show Off At Latte Art Competition

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The most serious artists take a frothy drink and spin it into a masterpiece.

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In seconds, an intricate design can bubble up as tantalizing to the eye as to the tastebuds.

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The baristas faced off, comparing rosettas, the signature latte art creation.

By Ashli Sims, The News On 6

TULSA, OK -- Artists usually don't challenge each other to throwdowns, but that's what some local artists did.

But their medium isn't oil on canvas. Some shops in Tulsa take their steam, milk and coffee pretty seriously.

The most serious take a frothy drink and spin it into a masterpiece.

"It's a sign that you are good at making coffee 'cause it's hard to make latte art," said Brian Franklin, owner of Double Shot Coffee Company. "If you get it too thick, it won't work. If you get it too thin, it won't work. So you know if you got latte art, it was the right consistency of milk."

In seconds, an intricate design can bubble up as tantalizing to the eye as to the tastebuds.

Franklin wanted to bring the latte art competitions he's seen in other cities to Tulsa.

"We're trying to create a community with the baristas here in town," Franklin said. "Other places we go there's a tight-knit barista community, and it builds the coffee industry in those towns. And we're trying to make that happen in Tulsa and get better coffee here."

So the baristas came from all over town, lining up to lay their latte skills on the line.

Double Shot even rigged a camera and a few monitors, so folks could watch in the shop and online, through U-Stream.

The baristas faced off head to head, or cup to cup, comparing rosettas, the signature latte art creation.

Judging is a bit informal, but with cash on the line and the contestants hopped up on caffeine, the competition can get fierce.

In the end, organizers hope self-expression through espresso will draw Tulsa's coffee community together and boost business, a cup at a time.

Breakthrough of Hope

Breakthroughs Offer Hope to MS Patients

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By Dennis Thompson, HealthDay Reporter

SUNDAY, July 6 (HealthDay News) -- There's no one single way to suffer from multiple sclerosis.

Every patient exhibits different symptoms as the disease gnaws away at the nerve endings in the brain, the spinal cord and even the eyes.

Doctors aren't even sure what causes MS, or what makes one person more likely to get it than another.

"I have a patient who is 6 years old," said Dr. Daniel Kantor, director of the Comprehensive Multiple Sclerosis Center at the University of Florida. "I have a patient who is 71 years old. I have patients from all walks of life, all ages."

But, the recent discovery of a second gene linked to multiple sclerosis -- hailed as a major breakthrough -- is giving researchers hope that they are zeroing in on useful treatments -- and, ultimately, a cure.

In what is considered the most significant genetic breakthrough in MS research in three decades, scientists last year announced they had found a gene that increases the risk of developing the disease by 30 percent.

"This discovery is very significant, because it is hopefully the first of many, and after more than 30 years of finding nothing," said Dr. Jennie Q. Lou, professor of public health and internal medicine at Nova Southeastern University in Fort Lauderdale, Fla.

"We will expect to find many more of these genes over the next few years. Either these genes, or genes related to them, may be an excellent target that researchers can use to develop treatments and cures for MS," she added.

The symptoms of multiple sclerosis are many and varied, as the disease attacks different parts of the nervous system.

One MS patient may have trouble walking, while another is wheelchair-bound. One person may experience terrible fatigue, while another might struggle with blurred or double vision. Still another might have slurred speech, tremors, stiffness and bladder problems, according to the National Multiple Sclerosis Society.

"A lot of the symptoms are invisible symptoms to an outsider," Kantor said. "Pain, extreme fatigue, memory problems -- these are problems you just can't see."

Multiple sclerosis is considered an autoimmune disease, because it attacks the central nervous system.

The nerve fibers of the central nervous system are surrounded and protected by a fatty tissue called myelin, which helps the fibers conduct electrical impulses. With MS, myelin is lost in multiple areas, leaving scar tissue called sclerosis. Sometimes, the fiber itself is harmed.

When myelin or the nerve fiber is destroyed or damaged, the ability of the nerves to conduct electrical impulses to and from the brain is disrupted, producing the various symptoms of MS.

Most people with MS are diagnosed between the ages of 20 and 50, and twice as many women as men have the disease. About 400,000 Americans are known to have MS, and every week about 200 new cases are diagnosed. Worldwide, the MS toll may run as high as 2.5 million people, according to the National Multiple Sclerosis Society.

The exact cause of MS is unknown, but doctors suspect it comes from some combination of genetic and environmental factors, Kantor said.

"There's a genetic predisposition and then something happens, they are exposed to something, and it makes the body's defense system attack itself versus attacking a foreign invader," he said.

That's why the discovery of the second gene is so important. Researchers now know they have to cast a wider net.

"We've been looking at one gene the whole time, and we thought that was going to be the answer to understanding MS," Kantor said. "This is just telling us there's another part of the immune system that is important as well. It's made things more complicated, but if it's true, it's true."

The gene discovery is one of a number of advances that are occurring at a rapid pace.

Lou noted that new research has successfully used stem cells to help replace myelin in the brains of mice. "This discovery has shed light on the great potential of using stem cells in MS treatment," she said.

And last year, researchers proved that an experimental DNA vaccine to fight multiple sclerosis is safe and stands a good chance of being effective. The vaccine works by thwarting the immune system's attack on the myelin sheaths protecting nerve fibers.

Other advances noted by Lou include:

• Better and earlier diagnosis owing to advances in imaging technology.
• Improved drugs to reduce the frequency and severity of symptoms, and the accumulation of lesions in the brain and spinal cord.
• More aggressive rehabilitation programs developed specifically for MS patients.

"Every time we get our Journal of Neurology, more than half of it is about MS and how we can treat MS," Kantor said. "The MS of today is not the MS of even 15 years ago. We are learning more about it at a rapid rate."

More information

To learn more, visit the National Multiple Sclerosis Society.

SOURCES: Daniel Kantor, M.D., assistant professor, neurology, and director, Comprehensive Multiple Sclerosis Center, University of Florida, Jacksonville; Jennie Q. Lou, M.D., MSc, professor, public health and internal medicine, Nova Southeastern University, Fort Lauderdale, Fla.; National Multiple Sclerosis Society

Copyright © 2008 ScoutNews, LLC. All rights reserved.

The Growing Push for "Mad-Pride"

Listening to Madness

Why some mentally ill patients are rejecting their medication and making the case for 'mad pride.'

on newsweek by Alissa Quart

We don't want to be normal," Will Hall tells me. The 43-year-old has been diagnosed as schizophrenic, and doctors have prescribed antipsychotic medication for him. But Hall would rather value his mentally extreme states than try to suppress them, so he doesn't take his meds. Instead, he practices yoga and avoids coffee and sugar. He is delicate and thin, with dark plum polish on his fingernails and black fashion sneakers on his feet, his half Native American ancestry evident in his dark hair and dark eyes. Cultivated and charismatic, he is also unusually energetic, so much so that he seems to be vibrating even when sitting still.

I met Hall one night at the offices of the Icarus Project in Manhattan. He became a leader of the group—a "mad pride" collective—in 2005 as a way to promote the idea that mental-health diagnoses like bipolar disorder are "dangerous gifts" rather than illnesses. While we talked, members of the group—Icaristas, as they call themselves—scurried around in the purple-painted office, collating mad-pride fliers. Hall explained how the medical establishment has for too long relied heavily on medication and repression of behavior of those deemed "not normal." Icarus and groups like it are challenging the science that psychiatry says is on its side. Hall believes that psychiatrists are prone to making arbitrary distinctions between "crazy" and "healthy," and to using medication as tranquilizers.

"For most people, it used to be, 'Mental illness is a disease—here is a pill you take for it'," says Hall. "Now that's breaking down." Indeed, Hall came of age in the era of the book "Listening to Prozac." He initially took Prozac after it was prescribed to him for depression in 1990. But he was not simply depressed, and he soon had a manic reaction to Prozac, a not uncommon side effect. In his frenetic state, Hall went on to lose a job at an environmental organization. He soon descended into poverty and started to hear furious voices in his head; he walked the streets of San Francisco night after night, but the voices never quieted. Eventually, he went to a mental-health clinic and was swiftly locked up. Soon after, he was diagnosed with schizophrenia. He was put in restraints and hospitalized against his will, he says. For the next year, he bounced in and out of a public psychiatric hospital that he likens to a prison. The humiliation and what he experienced as the failure of the medication were what turned him against traditional treatment. Since then, Hall has been asking whether his treatment was really necessary. He felt sloshily medicated, as if he couldn't really live his life.

Hall and Icarus are not alone in asking these questions. They are part of a new generation of activists trying to change the treatment and stigma attached to mental illness. Welcome to Mad Pride, a budding grassroots movement, where people who have been defined as mentally ill reframe their conditions and celebrate unusual (some call them "spectacular") ways of processing information and emotion.

Just as some deaf activists prefer to embrace their inability to hear rather than "cure" it with cochlear implants, members of Icarus reject the notion that the things that are called mental illness are simply something to be rid of. Icarus members cast themselves as a dam in the cascade of new diagnoses like bipolar and ADHD. The group, which now has a membership of 8,000 people across the U.S., argues that mental-health conditions can be made into "something beautiful." They mean that one can transform what are often considered simply horrible diseases into an ecstatic, creative, productive or broadly "spiritual" condition. As Hall puts it, he hopes Icarus will "push the emergence of mental diversity."

Embracing "mental diversity" is one thing, but questioning the need for medication in today's pill-popping world is controversial—and there have been instances in which those who experience mental extremes harm themselves or others. Icaristas argue that some of the severely mentally ill may avoid taking medication, because for some the drugs don't seem to help, yet produce difficult side effects. And while some side effects like cognitive impairment are surely debilitating, others are more subtle, such as the vague feeling that people are not themselves. Icaristas call themselves "pro-choice" about meds—some do take their drugs, but others refuse.

Mad pride has its roots in the mad-liberation movement of the 1960s and '70s, when maverick psychiatrists started questioning the boundaries between sane and insane, and patients began to resist psychiatric care that they considered coercive. But today the emphasis is on support groups, alternative health and reconsidering diagnostic labeling that can still doom patients to a lifetime of battling stigma. Icarus also frames its mission as a somewhat literary one—helping "to navigate the space between brilliance and madness." Even the name Icarus, with its origin in the Greek myth of a boy who flew to great heights (brilliance) but then came too close to the sun (madness) and hurtled to his death, has a literary cast.

Although Icarus and Hall focus on those diagnosed as mentally ill, their work has much broader implications. Talking to Hall, I was acutely aware just how much their stance reflects on the rest of us—the "normal" minds that can't read through a book undistracted, the lightly depressed people, the everyday drunks who tend toward volatility, the people who "just" have trouble making eye contact, those ordinary Americans who memorize every possible detail about Angelina Jolie.

After all, aren't we all more odd than we are normal? And aren't so many of us one bad experience away from a mental-health diagnosis that could potentially limit us? Aren't "normal" minds now struggling with questions of competence, consistency or sincerity? Icarus is likewise asking why we are so keen to correct every little deficit—it argues that we instead need to embrace the range of human existence.

While some critics might view Icaristas as irresponsible, their skepticism about drugs isn't entirely unfounded. Lately, a number of antipsychotic drugs have been found to cause some troubling side effects.

There are, of course, questions as to whether mad pride and Icarus have gone too far. While to his knowledge no members have gravely harmed themselves (or others), Hall acknowledges that not everyone can handle the Icarus approach. "People can go too fast and get too excited about not using medication, and we warn people against throwing their meds away, being too ambitious and doing it alone," he says.

But is this stance the answer? Jonathan Stanley, a director of the Treatment Advocacy Center, a nonprofit working to provide treatment for the mentally ill, is somewhat critical. Stanley, who suffers from bipolar illness with psychotic features, argues that medication is indispensable for people with bipolar disease or with schizophrenia. Stanley's group also supports mandatory hospitalization for some people suffering severe mental illness—a practice that Icarus calls "forced treatment."

Scholars like Peter Kramer, author of "Listening to Prozac" and "Against Depression," also take a darker view of mental extremes. "Psychotic depression is a disease," Kramer says. As the intellectual who helped to popularize the widespread use of antidepressants, Kramer is nonetheless enthusiastic about Icarus as a community for mad pride. Yet he still argues that mental-health diagnoses are very significant. "In an ideal world, you'd want good peer support like Icarus—for people to speak up for what's right for them and have access to resources—and also medication and deep-brain stimulation," he says.

For his part, Hall remains articulate, impassioned and unmedicated. He lives independently, in an apartment with a roommate in Oregon, where he is getting a master's in psychology at a psychoanalytic institute. He maintains a large number of friendships, although his relationships, he says, are rather tumultuous.

Nevertheless, it's not so easy. Hall periodically descends into dreadful mental states. He considers harming himself or develops paranoid fantasies about his colleagues and neighbors. Occasionally, he thinks that plants are communicating with him. (Though in his mother's Native American culture, he points out, this would be valued as an ability to communicate with the spirit world.)

On another night, I had dinner with eight Icarus members at a Thai restaurant in midtown Manhattan. Over Singha beer, they joked about an imaginary psychoactive medication called Sustain, meant to cure "activist burnout." It was hard to imagine at the dinner what Hall had suffered. While he and his "mad" allies were still clearly outsiders, they had taken their suffering and created from it an all-too-rare thing: a community.