Iris Van Herpen Exhibition Utrecht

The New Craftsmanship Iris van Herpen? and her Inspiration â€Å"With my work I intend to show that fashion can certainly have an added value to the world† In the Centraal Museum of Utrecht, Netherlands, renowned fashion designer/artist Iris van Herpen (1984) exhibits a highly personal side of her work for the public from 29 June until 9 October 2011. By contrasting her designs with what worked as the inspiration behind them, van Herpen’s futuristic approach to fashion is displayed with art dating back to the sixteenth to the nineteenth century creating an unusual opposition in the general mood of the show.In addition to a contrast between old and new, one will also find work by other contemporary artists that have inspired van Herpen or collaborated with her. These include artists such as American-born sculptor Kris Kuksi; Dutch choreographer Nanine Linning; hat designers Stephen Jones and Irene Bussemaker; Dutch artist Bart Hess who shares van Herpen’s futurist ic approach in his work; and architect Daniel Widrig whose main influence in the show was with 3D printing. Upon entering the exhibition one enters a calm space with soft music playing in the background.Looking up towards the high raised ceiling you can see Nanine Linning’s opera inspired performance piece with van Herpen’s extravagant costumes and haute couture creations in larger than life projections on the bare white walls. Below these displays one would find the original costumes as seen in the performance. Referring back to the contrast between old and new, or rather ancient and innovative, it was interesting to note which of van Herpen’s designs were paired up with what ancient artefact and why.Leaving the theatricality of Linning behind, the show carries you away from the modernity of projectors through to a series of antique items including a bookshelf, chairs and tables as well as paintings by the popular Parisian painter Pierre Joseph Sauvage and an e xpensive silk wall panel from Lyon in France. These were shown next to one of van Herpen’s more ‘wearable’ garments, a dress, which could be assumed to be made of fabric containing metal threads, having been concentinaed to create a voluminous shape reminiscent of coral reefs. Similar to the layout of the exhibition, VanHerpen’s approach to fashion stems from the interaction between handmade, an old-fashioned method of construction, and innovation, through constant pursuit of new techniques and materials. One of van Herpen’s most recently discovered techniques is a form of rapid prototyping called 3D printing. This technology came into use in 2003 mainly for duplicating valuable artefacts for museums. Cleverly, through collaboration with architect Daniel Widrig, van Herpen uses this technology to create what looks like sculpted dresses or headgear, once again reminiscent of the shape of coral reefs or some sorts of skeletal forms.This side of van He rpen’s collection was shown alongside work of goldsmiths form the seventeenth-century. This juxtapose truly emphasized the origins of the inspiration for her designs. There was an apparent connection between the auricular styled crockery, plates, crowns etc. and her laser sintering technique. With further regard to the 3D printing technique, the designer herself believes, â€Å"it is a matter a time before we can print the clothing we wear today†.It is truly inspiring to see an artist of such a young age produce something that has the prospects of having a massive impact on the industry itself and, well, everything really. If we can produce our clothing with 3D printing technology, maybe we can also produce furniture through the same process, or even houses, maybe even bridges and buildings. Just imagine! As for the overall impression of the exhibition itself; the concept and story behind it was thoughtful and interesting, the layout was appealing, and the work itself was beautiful and innovative.

Stefan’s Diaries: Bloodlust Chapter 8~9

Chapter 8 October 4, 1864 As a human, I'd thought it was my mother's death that had shaped the men Damon and I would become. I'd called myself a half-orphan in the initial days after she died, locking myself away in my room, feeling as though my life had ended at the young age of ten. Father believed grieving was weak and unmanly, so Damon had been the one to comfort me. He'd go riding with me, let me join the older boys in their games, and beat up the Giffin brothers when they made fun of me for crying about Mother during a baseball game. Damon had always been the strong one, my protector. But I was wrong. It is my own death that has shaped me. Now the tables have turned. I am the strong one, and I have been trying to be Damon's protector. But while I have always been grateful to Damon, he despises me and blames me for what he has become. I had forced him to feed from Alice, a bartender at the local tavern, which had completed his transformation. But does that make me a villain? I think not, especially as the act had saved his life. Finally, I see Damon the way Father had seen him: too imperious, too willful, too quick to make up his mind, and too slow to change it. And as I had also realized earlier this evening as I stood just outside the dim glare of the gas lamp, the body of the dead nurse at my feet: I am alone. A full orphan. Just as Katherine had presented herself when she came to Mystic Falls and stayed in our guesthouse. So that's how vampires do it, then. They exploit vulnerability, get humans to trust them, and then, when all the emotions are firmly in place, they attack. So that is what I will do. I know not how or who my next victim will be, but I know, more than ever, that the only person I can look out for and protect is myself. Damon is on his own, and so am I. I heard Damon steal through the city, moving at vampire speed down the streets and alleys. At one point, he paused, whispering Katherines name over and over again, like a mantra or a prayer. Then, nothing Was he dead? Had he drowned himself? Or was he simply too far away for me to hear him? Either way, the result was the same. I was alone–Id lost my only connection to the man Id once been: Stefan Salvatore, the dutiful son, the lover of poetry, the man who stood up for what was right. I wondered if that meant that Stefan Salvatore, with no one to remember him, was really, truly dead, leaving me to be anyone. I could move to a different city every year, see the whole world. I could assume as many identities as Id like. I could be a Union soldier. I could be an Italian businessman. I could even be Damon. The sun plunged past the horizon like a cannonball falling to earth, dipping the city into darkness. I turned from one gaslit street to the next, the soles of my boots rasping over the gravelly cobblestones. A loose newspaper blew toward me. I stomped on the broadsheet, examining an etched photo of a girl with long, dark hair and pale eyes. She looked vaguely familiar. I wondered if she was a relative of one of the Mystic Falls girls. Or perhaps a nameless cousin whod attended barbecues at Veritas. But then I saw the headline:BRUTAL MURDER ABOARD THE ATLANTIC EXPRESS. Lavinia. Of course. Id already forgotten her. I reached down and crumpled the paper, hurling it as far as I could into the Mississippi. The surface of the water was muddy and turbulent, dappled with moonlight. I couldnt see my reflection–couldnt see anything but an abyss of blackness as deep and dark as my new future. Could I go for eternity, feeding, killing, forgetting, then repeating the cycle? Yes. Every instinct and impulse I had screamedyes. The triumph of closing in on my prey, touching my canines to the paper-thin skin that covered their necks, hearing their hearts slow to a dull thud and feeling a body go limp in my arms. Hunting and feeding made me feel alive, whole; they gave me a purpose in the world. It was, after all, the natural order of things. Animals killed weaker animals. Humans killed animals. I killed humans. Every species had their foe. I shuddered to think what monster was powerful enough to hunt me. The salty breeze wafting from the water was laced with the odor of unwashed bodies and rotting food–a far cry from the aroma across town, where scents of floral perfume and talcum powder hung heavy in the air of the wide streets. Here shadows hugged every corner, whispers rose and fell with the flowing of the river, and drunken hiccups pierced the air. It was dark, here. Dangerous. I quite liked it. I turned a corner, following my nose like a bloodhound on the trail of a doe. I flexed my arms, ready for a hunt–a gin-soaked drunk, a soldier, a lady out after dark. The victim didnt matter. I turned again, and the iron-scent of blood came closer. The smell was sweet and smoky. I focused on it, on the anticipation of sinking my fangs into a neck, of wondering whose blood Id be drinking, whose life Id be stealing. I continued to walk, picking up my pace as I traced the scent to an anonymous back street lined with an apothecary, a general store, and a tailor. The street was a replica of our own Main Street back in Mystic Falls. But while wed only had one, New Orleans must have had dozens, if not hundreds, of these corridors of commerce. The rusty smell of iron was stronger now. I followed twists and turns, my hunger building, burning, searing my very skin until finally, finally I came to a squat, peach-colored building. But when I saw the painted sign above the door, I stopped short. Sausages in their casings hung in the buildings grimy window; slabs of cured meat dangled from the ceiling like a grotesque childs mobile; carved ribs were nestled in ice beneath a counter, and in the far back, whole carcasses were strung up, draining blood into large vats. This was a butcher shop? I sighed in frustration but my hunger forced me to push the door open anyway. The iron chain snapped easily, as if it were no sturdier than thread. Once inside, I gazed at the bloodied carcasses, momentarily mesmerized by the blood falling into the vats, one drip at a time. Over the sound of the raining blood, I heard the slightestping, no louder than the twitch of a mouses whiskers. Then came the light shuffle of toes passing over concrete. I reared back, my eyes darting from corner to corner. Mice scuttled beneath the floorboards, and someones watch ticked in the building next door. All else was quiet. But the air around me suddenly felt thicker, and the ceiling lower somehow, and I became acutely aware that there was no back exit in this room of death. â€Å"Who goes there?† I called into the darkness, whirling around, my fangs bared. And then came movement. Fangs, eyes, the thud of footsteps closed in around me from all corners. A low, guttural growl echoed off the bloodstained walls of the shop, and I realized with a sickening jolt that I was surrounded by vampires who looked all too ready to pounce. Chapter 9 I crouched low, my fangs elongated. The heady scent of blood permeated every corner of the room, making my head spin. It was impossible to know where to attack first. The vampires growled again, and I emitted a low snarl in response. The circle closed in tighter around me. There were three of them, and I was caught, like a fish in a net, a deer surrounded by wolves. â€Å"What do you think youre doing?† one of the vampires asked. He looked to be in his mid-twenties and had a scar that ran the length of his face, from his left eye to the corner of his lip. â€Å"Im one of you,† I said, standing at my full height, fangs on display. â€Å"Oh, hes one of us!† an older vampire said in a sing-songy voice. He wore glasses and a tweed vest over a white-collared shirt. But for the fangs and red-rimmed eyes, he could have been an accountant or a friend of my fathers. I kept my face impassive. â€Å"I have no ill business with you, brothers.† â€Å"We are not your brothers,† said another with tawny hair. He looked not a day over fifteen. His face was smooth, but his green eyes were hard. The older one stepped forward, poking his bony finger against my chest as if it were a wooden stake. â€Å"So, brother, nice evening to dine or die. What do you think?† The young vampire kneeled next to me, gazing into my eyes. â€Å"Looks like hell do both tonight. Lucky boy,† he said, ruffling my hair. I tried to kick him, but my foot simply flopped harmlessly against air. â€Å"No, no, no.† While the scarred vampire watched wordlessly, the boy grabbed my arms and wrenched them so sharply and abruptly behind my back that I gasped. â€Å"Dont be disrespectful. Were your elders. And youve already done quite enough disrespecting already, if Miss Mollys house is any indication.† He drawled her name as if he were a benign, genteel Southern gentleman. Only the steel grip on my limbs betrayed that he wasnt anything of the sort. â€Å"I didnt do anything,† I said, kicking again. If I were to die, then Id die in a fight. â€Å"Are you sure?† he asked, looking down at me in disgust. I attempted to twist away, but still I couldnt budge. The elder vampire chuckled. â€Å"Cant control his urges. Impulsive, this one. Lets give him a taste of his own medicine.† With a flourish, he released me from his grasp, pushing me forward with strength Id never before felt. I hit the plaster wall with a crash and fell on my shoulder, my head cracking against the wooden floorboards. I cowered beneath my attackers, the realization sinking in that if I were to survive this encounter, it would not be by might. â€Å"I didnt mean to do anything. Im sorry,† I said, my voice breaking on the word. â€Å"Do you mean it?† the young vampire asked, a glint in his eye. The sound of wood breaking assaulted my ears. I flinched. Would one vampire stake another? This was not a question I wanted answered the hard way. â€Å"Yes. Yes! I didnt mean to come in here. I didnt know anyone was here. I only just arrived in New Orleans,† I said, scrambling for an excuse. â€Å"Silence!† he commanded, advancing toward me, a jagged piece of wood in his hand. I pressed my spine into the damaged wall. So this is how it would end. With me dying on a makeshift stake, killed by my own kind. Two hands crushed my arms, while another two pinned my ankles together so forcefully that it felt as though I were stuck under boulders. I closed my eyes. An image of Father lying prone on his study floor swam to the forefront of my mind, and I shook my head in agony, remembering his sweating, terrified face. Of course, Id been trying to save him, but he hadnt known that. If he was watching, as an angel or a demon or a mere specter condemned to haunt the world, hed be thrilled to see this scene unfold. I squeezed my eyes tighter, trying to evoke some other memory to the fore of my mind, one that would take me to another place, another time. But all I could think of were my victims, of the moment when my fangs sliced into their skin, their plaintive wails descending into silence, the blood dripping down my fangs and onto my chin. Soon, all the blood Id taken would be released, seeping out of my own body and back into the Earth, as I was left to die, for real this time, forever, on this wooden floor. â€Å"Enough!† A female voice sliced through the montage in my mind. Immediately, the vampires let go of my hands and feet. My eyes sprang open, and I saw a woman gliding through a narrow wooden door in the back. Her long blond hair descended in a single plait down her back, and she wore mens black pants and suspenders. She was tall, though slight as a child, and all the other vampires shrank away from her in fear. â€Å"You,† she said, kneeling next to me. â€Å"Who are you?† Her amber eyes gazed into mine. They were clear and curious, but there was something about them–the darkness of the pupils, perhaps–that seemed ancient and knowing, which stood in sharp contrast to her rosy-cheeked, unlined face. â€Å"Stefan Salvatore,† I answered her. â€Å"Stefan Salvatore,† she repeated in a perfect Italian accent. Although teasing, her voice didnt seem unkind. She ran a finger gently along my jaw, then placed her palm against my chest and she pressed me against the wall, hard. The suddenness of the movement stunned me, but as I sat, pinned and helpless, she brought her other wrist to her mouth, using her fang to puncture the vein. She dragged her wrist along her teeth, creating a small stream of blood. â€Å"Drink,† she commanded, bringing her wrist to my lips. I did as I was told, managing to get a few drops of the liquid down my throat before she yanked her hand away. â€Å"Thats enough. That should fix your wounds at any rate.† â€Å"He and his brother have been wreaking havoc all over town,† the large vampire said, his makeshift stake pointed at me like a rifle. â€Å"Just me,† I said quickly. â€Å"My brother had no part in it.† Damon would never survive the wrath of these demons. Not in his weakened state. The blond vampire wrinkled her nose as she leaned even closer toward me. â€Å"Youre what, a week old?† she asked, leaning back on her heels. â€Å"Almost two weeks,† I said defiantly, lifting my chin. She nodded, a hint of a smile on her lips, and stood, surveying the shop. The plaster wall was partially caved in, and blood smeared the floor and speckled the walls, as though a child had stood in the center of the room and twirled around with a wet paintbrush. She tsked, and the three male vampires simultaneously took a step back. I shivered. â€Å"Percy, come here, and bring that knife,† she said. With a sigh, the youngest vampire produced a long carving knife from behind his back. â€Å"He wasnt following the rules,† he said petulantly, reminding me of the Giffin boys back home. They were both bullies, always ready to kick a kid in the schoolyard and then turn around and tell a teacher they had nothing to do with it. She took the knife and stared at it, running the pad of her index finger over the gleaming blade. Then she held it back out to Percy. He hesitated a moment, but finally stepped forward to take it. Just then the girls canines elongated and her eyes flushed bloodred. With a growl, she stabbed Percy right in the chest. He fell to his knees, doubled over in silent agony. â€Å"You hunt this vampire for making a scene in town,† she seethed, stabbing the knife in farther, â€Å"and yet you attempt to destroy him in this public space, in this shop? Youre just as foolish as he is.† The young vampire staggered to his feet. Blood streamed down the front of his shirt, as though hed spilled coffee on himself. He grimaced as he pulled the knife out with a sucking sound. â€Å"Im sorry,† he gasped. â€Å"Thank you.† The woman held her wrist toward Percys mouth. Despite her youthful look and apparently violent temper, she also had a mothering quality that the other vampires seemed to accept, as if her stabbings were as normal to them as a light swat would be to a high-spirited child. She turned toward me. â€Å"Im sorry for your troubles, Stefan. Now, can I help you be on your way?† she asked. I looked around wildly. Id thought no further ahead than escaping this room. â€Å"I â€Å" â€Å". . . dont have anywhere to go,† she said with a sigh, finishing my thought. She glanced toward the other vampires, who were now huddled in the corner of the room, heads bent in conversation. â€Å"Ill just be going,† I said, struggling to my feet. My leg was fine, but my arms shook, and my breath came erratically. With local vampires watching my every move, where would I go? How would I feed? â€Å"Nonsense, youre coming with us,† she said, turning on her heel and walking out the door. She pointed to the young vampire and the one who wore glasses. â€Å"Percy and Hugo, stay and clean this place up.† I had to practically run to keep up with her and the tall, scarred vampire whod watched my torture. â€Å"Youll need someone to show you around,† she explained, pausing only slightly. â€Å"This is Buxton,† she said, grabbing the elbow of the vampire with the long scar. We walked down street after street until we neared a church with a tall spire. â€Å"Were here,† she said, turning sharply to enter a wrought-iron gate. Her boots echoed against a slate path that led to the rear of a house. She opened the door, and a musty scent greeted me. Buxton immediately walked through the parlor and up a set of stairs, leaving me and the young female vampire alone in the darkness. â€Å"Welcome home,† she said, spreading her hands wide. â€Å"There are plenty of spare rooms upstairs. Find one that suits you.† â€Å"Thank you.† As my eyes adjusted to the darkness, I took in my surroundings. Black velvet curtains fastened with golden rope blocked every window. Dust motes floated in the air, and gilt-framed paintings covered the walls. The furniture was threadbare, and I could just make out two sweeping staircases with what looked like oriental runners and, in the next room, a piano. Though at one point this must have been a grand house, now the soiled walls were cracked and peeling, and cobwebs draped over the gold-and-crystal chandelier above us. â€Å"Always enter through the back. Never draw back the curtains. Dont ever bring anyone here. Do you understand, Stefan?† She looked at me pointedly. â€Å"Yes,† I said, running a finger along the marble fireplace, cutting a path in the inch-thick dust. â€Å"Then I think you will like it here,† she said. I turned to face her, nodding in agreement. My panic had subsided, and my arms no longer trembled. â€Å"Im Lexi,† she said, holding out her hand, allowing me to raise it to my lips and kiss it. â€Å"I have a feeling that you and I will be friends for a long time.†

Social Entrepreneurism Module WA1 Coursework Example | Topics and Well Written Essays - 1000 words

Social Entrepreneurism Module WA1 - Coursework Example Model 2 enterprises- These are nonprofitorganizations that realize their funding from the surrounding environment and the business community. They operate to ensure a sustainable social value at the same time minimizing costs. Model 3 enterprises- these are social organizations that depend entirely on private business funds. They operate as a business with their returns going to the investors (Dees, Emerson & Economy, 2002). Value evaluation – these are the assessment activities carried out the business enterprises to come up with facts that help in decision making in the organization or assist the evaluators in generating periodic reports. Value evaluation involves assessment of issues such as the number of clients served over a certain period, the impact of the organization to the society and the environment and the level of customer satisfaction. Strategic service vision- These are the goals and targets set by the organization’s management to be achieved after a set duration of time e.g. by the end of the financial period. Strategic service vision helps the management come up with the organizations objectives, missions and vision Operating services strategy- these are the strategic plans and procedures laid by an organization on their daily operations. Different organizations have different service strategies depending on the products or services they provide. Operating service strategies are important in helping the organization realize its goals, missions and objectives. Examples of operating service strategies may include maintaining their customers by getting their contacts and following up on their progress or ensuring a clean, tidy environment and maintaining proper hygienic standards to portray a good image of the organization. The activities of value evaluation provide the facts and information required in decision making by the management.

Ethics Law and Change Management Case Study Example | Topics and Well Written Essays - 3250 words

Ethics Law and Change Management - Case Study Example On the average these companies create a product without knowing for sure what the product is going to be for, with no more than a vision. So far, they have not had a failure and have created millions of software jobs. France has a totally different kind of legal system. It is not like any other legal system in the world. Their courts as well as their judicial system can be confusing and difficult to use. Fortunately France understands this though and provides advocates to help maneuver the system correctly. Corporations may find, however, that France is a difficult country to get started in though if popular, the reception is like no other. Apple is a change company that stands up well to globalization. They are very popular throughout the world and are extremely popular in France. They will meet their problems but chances are pretty good that they will continue their climb in profitability and popularity, that is unless they let their ethics get in the way. Kotter (1996) says it better than anyone, "major change is never successful unless the complacency level is low. Complacency must be virtually absent and there must be a do it now attitude." This is what the winning team looks like. This is the country that will have all of the things that it needs including excellent business relations. This is the description of both Apple and France. There are ups and downs for both the corporation and the country and not everything has been perfect but in neither case can we say they were complacent. They have teams who have a "do it now" attitude. Like so many things there is also good and bad here. Apple has been in more than one bought with legal trouble and Apple and France have been advisories so since both have this culture there will probably be more. This paper will discuss both Apple and France and how they function within their culture and the world around them. Apple Incorporated Large corporations today have many ethical responsibilities. Apple is no exception. High ethical standards are one of the major things that help guarantee a corporations success. They determine how the company relates to their shareholders, customers, employees, and vendors. Ethical standards will determine whether or not these people believe they are dealing with a fair and forthright company. These ethical standards include principles of trust, honesty, respect, integrity, and commitment. A company's code of ethics covers many but not all of the practices that are involved in that business. This paper will discuss the ethics involved in Apple Inc. business as well as the legal system in France and the change often related to the globalization of a company. History Apple started its life

Article Discussion Coursework Example | Topics and Well Written Essays - 250 words

Article Discussion - Coursework Example Nonetheless, this management technique terrorizes the employees, as intimidation is a recipe for short-term results. In contrast, the Theory Y bases its management style on the assumption that work is a source of satisfaction given that employees willingly chose to devote their mental and physical abilities to the company. Depraved leaders are characterized by self-centered approach towards management. These leaders exhibit intelligence and high rates of success. Despite this, these leaders undermine prudent organizational behavior of embracing unity and teamwork in the decision-making processes. Through their attitude, depraved leaders practice intolerance, a trait that does not give room for recognition of the inferior groups. Therefore, the current nature of business does not consider intolerance as a component of success. Moreover, globalization and corporate social responsibility are the current trends that define the success of an organization. With depraved leaders, organizations risk the chance of failure as employee motivation plays a critical role in embracing diversity and ensuring continuity within the

Women and Publishing in Early America Essay Example | Topics and Well Written Essays - 750 words

Women and Publishing in Early America - Essay Example It is therefore pleasantly surprised to discover that as far back as 1476, women have made lifelong occupations in journalism and printing, and in various capacities including that of the owner. Mayo (2009) names at least 21 women who ran their husbands’ or fathers’ printing businesses after they died. Among them was Clementina Rind, who took over as publisher of the Virginia Gazette after she was widowed. Women of different races and classes contributed to the printing trade. For instance, Phillis Wheatley was a black poet and slave who wrote Poems on Various Subjects, Religious and Moral in the year 1773 (Duboi & Dumenil, 2005, in Mayo, 2009). Born in Africa (most likely Senegal), she was kidnapped at the age of eight years and brought to Boston. The white family which brought her gave her their family name as was the custom then, and she was taught English and Christianity, and later on ancient history, mythology and classical literature. She was intelligent, and her masters were a family of culture, so she was allowed to study and write. Her first poem was published in 1767 in the Newport Mercury. A collection of her poems was published in 1773 in London, and what was unusual was the â€Å"attestation† by seventeen men in the volume’s preface that, indeed, the poems were written â€Å"by Phillis, a young Negro Girl†¦a Barbarian from Africa†¦a Slave in a Fam ily† who was â€Å"examined by the best Judges, and is thought qualified to write them† (Lewis, 2007). Phillis Wheatley is acknowledged to be the first black woman poet in American history. The â€Å"attestation† is a clear bias against women, people of color, and of the lower classes (i.e., slaves). The need for such attestation by sixteen men, and the requisite to be examined by â€Å"the best Judges† provides a picture of how women who were in the literary and printing trades were regarded; the obvious presumption about women in their day-to-day life is that they are normally not capable of producing literary and journalistic pieces, and such works by women should be properly certified by white men.

Magnetic flux density Lab Report Example | Topics and Well Written Essays - 1250 words

Magnetic flux density - Lab Report Example What is more appalling is that most of these deaths occur in developing countries. Cameroon is one of the developing countries which has been cited to have high mortality rate. According to Ross (1996) HIV/AIDS and other communicable diseases are the major cause of deaths in Cameroon. This paper seeks to discuss the causes of high mortality in Cameroon. This is with a view to highlight workable solutions to this problem. Mortality rate in Cameroon was last measured in 2011 and found to be at 383.19 (World Health Organization, 2011). This figure places it position 18 when ranked alongside other 20 countries in the world having highest mortality rate (World Health Organization 2011). It is indicated that this high mortality rate in Cameroon is largely contributed by high infant mortality and maternal mortality. For instance, research show that in Cameroon, mortality and Vitamin A deficiency rates in children are very high (Seth, 2009). Findings from Seth (2009) indicates that in Cameroon, for every 1,000 live births, 200 children die before reaching their fifth anniversary. 40 percent of these deaths are the underfives Vit A deficiency (Seth, 2009). Seth also shows that only 13 percent of children in Cameroon sleep under mosquito treated nets. Because of these, there has been reported increase in Maria in Cameroon. Reportedly, Maria account for well beyond 40 percent of deaths in Cameroon for children under five years (Newman, 2013). Research has shown that high maternity mortality is another contributor to the overall increased mortality rates in Cameroon. As found out by Newman (2013) maternal mortality in Cameroon stands at 680 per 100,000 births. This being the case, the question is what causes these high infant and maternal mortality rates in Cameroon. It is largely indicated that that in Cameroon, low birth weight contributes to 70-80 percent of infant mortality rates (Newman, 2013). The New