tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12844707851390664142024-03-13T09:54:50.935-07:00Owl's Cabinet of WondersOwlfarmerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15373358232893937182noreply@blogger.comBlogger61125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1284470785139066414.post-5795405278450179922022-06-20T15:15:00.000-07:002022-06-20T15:15:52.585-07:00Creating a Garden Wunderkammer<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhR8iRgATWkhFsJSVBnSC6HwRNUL4tOr2i3nm3VRLq70AHBQbMx1h6dJDfrEVymTHkn2sbOzluT-QLmhxNAocJ_AfX018u7qnn7nTIeOpbB-FET6vxZRm_PHz0fKnyTOESO05J1C3bu_uW7Qzi43GOldLzTlWOvh-oYzY_bIer4IYhtq5tgIxS3xYh2/s4032/IMG_3745%20(1).jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhR8iRgATWkhFsJSVBnSC6HwRNUL4tOr2i3nm3VRLq70AHBQbMx1h6dJDfrEVymTHkn2sbOzluT-QLmhxNAocJ_AfX018u7qnn7nTIeOpbB-FET6vxZRm_PHz0fKnyTOESO05J1C3bu_uW7Qzi43GOldLzTlWOvh-oYzY_bIer4IYhtq5tgIxS3xYh2/w320-h240/IMG_3745%20(1).jpeg" width="320" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Just when I think that it's finally time to retire the Cabinet, something inspires me to keep it going. This time it was the dual decision to clean up my little greenhouse and to begin to sort through some of the detritus in our shed (and, eventually, as part of the ongoing Swedish Death Cleaning project, the garage). It occurred to me that some of the stuff we've gathered over the years, throughout our lives and travels, is kind of interesting. This could all result in a personal <i><a href="https://www.theartstory.org/definition/gesamtkunstwerk/#:~:text=Summary%20of%20Gesamtkunstwerk,create%20a%20single%20cohesive%20whole." target="_blank">Gesamtkunstwerk</a>. </i>Or if not something so grand,<i> </i>at least my own <i><a href="https://www.dailyartmagazine.com/cabinets-of-curiosities/" target="_blank">Wunderkammer</a></i>.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Almost by accident, but not entirely, much of this accumulation has ended up in the wonderful little polycarb greenhouse The Beloved Spouse erected for me back in early November of 2020. Visitors to Owl's Farm have glimpsed it occasionally (as on <a href="http://owlfarmer.blogspot.com/2022/04/earth-day-2022-avoiding-apocalypse.html">Earth Day of this year</a>), but I've never really given it the attention it deserves. Things get plonked down in there willy nilly, and only sometimes somewhat artfully (as above).</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Since its inception, this little structure has seen us through two winters (including the one marked by Snowmageddon in February of 2021), and has ended up housing the various bits of geological, biological, and cultural memorabilia collected on two trips out west, and several visits to more local destinations in several Texas state parks and Corps of Engineers campgrounds. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">So now I think it's time to let the combined inspirations of Rosamund Purcell and William Buckminster guide my creative juices and turn the as-yet unnamed greenhouse/potting shed/spider and anole habitat into something worthy of its simple structure and basic usefulness. The only thing it's not really good for is being a greenhouse. Our winters are becoming increasingly cold, and we haven't figured out an earth-friendly way to heat it. It's also too efficient at producing solar heat during the day support seed-starting. Only a couple of the plants we harbored in it over winter survived (and they would have done had we simply left them alone out of doors). At the moment we're leaving it open all day and all night because temperatures approach 150F by noon and don't cool off until very early in the morning (with both of its vents wide open).</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">This project will take some time, so here is some homework if 1) anybody's still reading this blog and 2) you're at all interested in my inspirations.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><a href="http://www.anartthatnaturemakes.com/rosamondpurcell">Rosamond Purcell</a> is a photographer and artist who has published several books of her work and has collaborated with the late paleontologist and geologist <a href="https://achievement.org/achiever/stephen-jay-gould/">Stephen Jay Gould</a> on three books that illustrate the relationship between art and science. <a href="https://www.seattletimes.com/entertainment/found-stuff-is-treasure-to-artist/" target="_blank">William Buckminster</a> was the owner of a seven-acre mass of discarded who-knows-what near Owls Head, Maine, that Purcell frequently visited--and from which she excavated materials for some of the most idiosyncratic and creative works imaginable. I came upon her work early in my teaching career, and mined her creative output as exemplars to inspire my many art and design students. Long before "upcycling" became a "thing," Purcell was using found objects and finds from Owls Head (and museum collections and other sources) to create multimedia works. So for those of who unfamiliar with her accomplishments, here are some recommendations:</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><i><a href="https://books.google.com/books/about/Crossing_Over.html?id=KHJQAAAAMAAJ" target="_blank"><br /></a></i></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><i><a href="https://books.google.com/books/about/Crossing_Over.html?id=KHJQAAAAMAAJ" target="_blank">Crossing Over: Where Art and Science Meet</a></i>, by Stephen Jay Gould and Rosamond Wolff Purcell. (2000) New York: Three Rivers Press. Essays by Gould, illustrations by Purcell. (This is the Google Books page.)</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><i><a href="https://www.npr.org/2004/02/02/1628953/photographer-and-writer-rosamond-purcell" target="_blank">Owls Head: On the Nature of Lost Things</a></i>, by Rosamond Purcell. (2003) New York: Quantuck Lane Press (The link is to a 2004 Fresh Air interview on NPR conducted by Terry Gross; the images don't work any more, but the discussion is terrific.)</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><i><a href="http://compassrosebooks.blogspot.com/2011/06/rosamond-purcells-bookworm.html" target="_blank">Bookworm</a></i>, by Rosamond Purcell. (2006) New York: Quantuck Lane Press. (The link is to a blog post by Curtis Faville, with some useful commentary and lots of nice pictures.)</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">More on this project will follow soon. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><p></p>Owlfarmerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15373358232893937182noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1284470785139066414.post-36927479895832896812021-04-22T19:32:00.011-07:002022-06-20T13:36:56.252-07:00Earth Day 2021: A Collection of Earth Friendly Zines<div class="separator"><p><span style="font-size: x-large;">I </span>thought I'd celebrate Earth Day by providing a little collection of inspiring publications that help keep my spirits up. All are are available digitally through Zinio and other electronic clearinghouses, and none of them are from around here. Most of these center on permaculture, regenerative grazing, sustainability, reducing waste, and other means to accomplishing <i>tikkun olam </i>(the Jewish concept of healing the world).</p><p>Still a lover of print, I nevertheless welcome the chance to read well-produced digital versions of magazines I could never afford in print, and would have a really hard time letting go of. The beauty of electronic versions is that I can archive them and they don't stack up in piles on bookshelves--like my favorite house porn journal, <i>Country Living UK</i> (which I now get on Zinio).<br /></p></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div>The first is a lovely little gem from the UK that sounds like one of those "clean up your stuff" mags that spend too much time suggesting that you buy stuff to keep your stuff in. <a href="https://www.thesimplethings.com/"><span style="color: #45818e; font-size: large;">The Simple Things</span></a> is, however, more of an inspirational foray into craft and nature from the UK that urges a simplified life but doesn't necessarily require that one immediately go out to the shops or head for Amazon, although it does frequently feature sustainably crafted goods.<p></p><p>The May issue includes an article on "Almost-wild" camping, which sounds like it could catch on in the US. Unfortunately, I didn't ask for permission to include the image here, so it's been removed. But do look it up. </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://images.squarespace-cdn.com/content/v1/57d64055d482e9b1b3680019/1616983590249-6C03R12QUBXJVAAL5W6J/ke17ZwdGBToddI8pDm48kAIk9n_v7E5df_fi7fs8HyhZw-zPPgdn4jUwVcJE1ZvWQUxwkmyExglNqGp0IvTJZUJFbgE-7XRK3dMEBRBhUpz9CagmgYCxd5hUV2FYpPiDA-B5MRFjrGkcbc6w2hwBrwHTHVufJ1BdyCKuidcTKkM/March+front+cover-small.jpg?format=500w" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="707" data-original-width="500" height="308" src="https://images.squarespace-cdn.com/content/v1/57d64055d482e9b1b3680019/1616983590249-6C03R12QUBXJVAAL5W6J/ke17ZwdGBToddI8pDm48kAIk9n_v7E5df_fi7fs8HyhZw-zPPgdn4jUwVcJE1ZvWQUxwkmyExglNqGp0IvTJZUJFbgE-7XRK3dMEBRBhUpz9CagmgYCxd5hUV2FYpPiDA-B5MRFjrGkcbc6w2hwBrwHTHVufJ1BdyCKuidcTKkM/March+front+cover-small.jpg?format=500w" width="217" /></a></div><p></p><p>A year or so back I discovered a charming--and inspiring--magazine on Zinio called Junkies, which soon after changed its name to a less problematic and more appropriate <a href="https://www.re-think.com.au/"><span style="color: #45818e; font-size: large;">re:think</span></a>.</p><p>Published in Australia, it focuses on recycling, making, sustainable fashion, and a range of related topics. </p><p>Every time I read an issue of this magazine, I imagine new ways to use things that in another life I would have thrown out. That alone is worth the subscription price. <br /></p><p>Like many magazines, print or digital, Re:Think seems to be having some publication difficulties, and I'm still waiting for the next issue.</p><p><i>Note</i>: <i>I'm beginning to worry that this may not have made it through the pandemic; but I continue to hope.</i></p><p><br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://383jct21p04k32hydj1dwif0-wpengine.netdna-ssl.com/wp-content/uploads/2021/03/DF66_Cover-5-889x1200.jpeg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="800" data-original-width="593" height="295" src="https://383jct21p04k32hydj1dwif0-wpengine.netdna-ssl.com/wp-content/uploads/2021/03/DF66_Cover-5-889x1200.jpeg" width="218" /></a></div><p>Rather than things, this Australian publication focuses on philosophical and cultural issues, and especially on people "with the drive to make a difference" around the world.</p><p><a href="https://www.dumbofeather.com/"><span style="color: #45818e; font-size: large;">Dumbo Feather</span></a>'s current issue's topic is Truth, and navigating the problematic world of information.</p><p>Several conversations are featured each issue, with interesting and inspiring people I might never have heard of if I hadn't happened on this journal.<br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /><br /><a href="http://Pipmagazine.com.au"><span style="color: #45818e; font-size: large;">Pip</span></a>. Australia has been the <i>axis mundi</i> of permaculture practice and development for years. In 2014, Robin Rosenfeldt moved to New South Wales and began a magazine designed to provide "ideas and inspiration for a resilient future." <i>Pip</i> is a congenial, information-packed quarterly with evocative artwork and articles on sustainability, growing, eating, building, and thriving. The website has some wonderful videos and advice about living lightly on the planet<br /><br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://cdn.shopify.com/s/files/1/0344/5649/files/EG_194_OFC.small_600x600.jpg?v=1606478007" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="600" data-original-width="484" height="254" src="https://cdn.shopify.com/s/files/1/0344/5649/files/EG_194_OFC.small_600x600.jpg?v=1606478007" width="205" /> <br /></a></div><p>Another quarterly Australian publication, <a href="https://www.earthgarden.com.au/pages/summer-issue-2020"><span style="color: #45818e; font-size: large;">Earth Garden</span></a> might remind some folks of the US's Mother Earth News (to which I also subscribe digitally) but can confuse a whole lot of us in the northern hemisphere because of its seasonal focus. </p><p>Sustainable living is once again the driving force, with an emphasis on gardening and dealing with the output. </p><p>Terrific gardening and farming ideas, great recipes, solid advice on house-holding techniques (like canning and preserving) are all to be found within its pages.<br /></p><p> </p><p>Their high production values, collective ethical and cultural conscience (the Australian magazines acknowledge their debt to the indigenous peoples on whose land they create and publish), optimism, and practical suggestions for rehabilitating and sustaining the planet, make these all worth taking a look at. </p><p>Happy Earth Day, folks. Stay well, get vaccinated, and help to save the planet.</p>[Note: edited on 06.20.22. I apologize for the problematic page design: spacing trouble.]Owlfarmerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15373358232893937182noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1284470785139066414.post-68481759137162264682021-03-15T13:58:00.006-07:002021-03-15T14:17:01.423-07:00Pi Day Pear Pie<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgulzIgTjXz0HpeTXvUHaNGN5Wl7diCoRJIoDICNKn4tjbtgOXhTsjDVEYy0Lw6aGAHzLUTICSmQ6CMXdvULgqDrjVz2JPvwHsXRy8gvJ4rXC2JWPrElfiabjxqJH9iIzXb_MkPX3Xaun0/s2048/IMG_2712.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1536" data-original-width="2048" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgulzIgTjXz0HpeTXvUHaNGN5Wl7diCoRJIoDICNKn4tjbtgOXhTsjDVEYy0Lw6aGAHzLUTICSmQ6CMXdvULgqDrjVz2JPvwHsXRy8gvJ4rXC2JWPrElfiabjxqJH9iIzXb_MkPX3Xaun0/s320/IMG_2712.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br /><span style="font-size: x-large;">B</span>ecause my attention span is pretty limited these days, my posts are generally confined to <a href="http://owlfarmer.blogspot.com/">The Farm</a>. I keep promising to keep the Cabinet up and running, but am seldom successful.<p></p><p>This year, however, I've vowed to channel some of my current optimism into more concerted efforts at posting on both blogs, confining my rants on political economy and garden angst to The Farm, and explorations of a more ephemeral nature to <i>this</i> space. And what, to a pie lover, could be more ephemeral than pie? And yes, I know that Pi Day was yesterday (3.14), but I was so knackered after baking the pie that I didn't have enough steam left for blogging about it. <br /></p><p>But of course there's a story, so here it is. A couple of months ago, I received word from my longtime e-mail provider, a former student who runs a business that manages such things, that he was moving to a Microsoft 365 platform and changes would have to be made. But since I don't know from Microsoft almost anything (despite the fact that My Son The Game Guy works for the company), I decided to cut and run. I laboriously moved all my contacts over to gmail, and copied volumes of letters to and from family and friends. This was not an entirely unenjoyable effort, because I was able to skim quite a number of letters that brought back memories of the last twenty years. There's further work to do, such as sorting letters by person, and extracting each correspondent from his or her spot in a much larger file to a more manageable one. </p><p>Among those whose letters I most value is my uncle Art. He is my father's youngest brother, and the only one of my paternal grandparents' children still living. At nearly 87, he's the family patriarch, and because of good clean living, a terrific sense of humor, a fabulous wife and family, and his mother's longevity genes, I hope he'll hold that title for at least another twenty years. </p><p>When I began blogging in 2007, Art started letting me know what he thought about what I was writing, and one project I look forward to is going back through those letters and compiling them with my responses and the posts to which they're related. Of course, I'll have to live another thirty years or so to get all that done, because both sides of my family have been copious correspondents, and both my grandmother and I saved one another's letters (for about forty years). There are also smaller collections of WWII war-correspondence, and substantial number letters from my father to me when we weren't together. </p><p>And then there's the mass of email correspondence that began when both my father and I started using it around 1997, and continued until his death in 2004. I didn't start blogging until 2007, but not long afterward I started getting Art's responses--not attached to the posts themselves, but in e-mails. I hope he won't live to regret having sent them, but I will enjoy going back through them and revisiting whatever I wrote that caught his attention.<br /></p><p>One of the things we especially enjoyed chatting about is family history, on which I wrote quite a bit in the early years of The Farm; I also included posts on recipes and other "collectables" here on the Cabinet, which is why I've popped this one in here. </p><p>In September of 2008, I wrote about having <a href="http://owlscabinet.blogspot.com/2008/09/surfeit-of-pears.html">A Surfeit of Pears</a>, and Art replied with a recipe. I hadn't thought about it in years, but after rediscovering it I decided that I'd make one for Pi Day, which I celebrate every year by feeding The Beloved Spouse something round. And pie-like. I've been doing this since about 2011, when I wrote about the connection in an old blog I devoted to students, The Owls' Parliament (<a href="http://owlsparliament.blogspot.com/2011/03/geometry-art-pi-and-pie.html">Geometry, Art, Pi, and Pie</a>)<br /></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;"><span style="font-size: small;">The result is pictured above, and the recipe (and Art's comment) appears below. </span></span></p><p style="margin-left: 40px; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><span style="font-size: small;">OK so you got pears. Try this one you won't regret.</span></span></p><p style="margin-left: 40px; text-align: left;">
</p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 40px; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><span style="font-size: small; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><b>Pear
Pie</b>
</span></span></p><div style="margin-left: 40px; text-align: left;">
</div><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 40px; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><span style="font-size: small; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">1/2 cup Sugar
</span></span><span style="font-family: arial;"><span style="font-size: small; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><br />1
t Vanilla </span></span><span style="font-family: arial;"><span style="font-size: small; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><br />1 Egg
beaten </span></span><span style="font-family: arial;"><span style="font-size: small; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><br />1 cup
Sour Cream (Lite is
OK) <br /></span></span><span style="font-family: arial;"><span style="font-size: small; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">1
T
Flour </span></span><span style="font-family: arial;"><span style="font-size: small; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><br />1 pinch salt</span></span><span style="font-family: arial;"><span style="font-size: small; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><br />3 - 4 cups
ripe pears about 4 medium</span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 40px; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><span style="font-size: small; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Mix first 6 together fold in
pears and put in crust</span></span><span style="font-family: arial;"><span style="font-size: small; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><br />Bake at 350 deg for 15 min</span></span><span style="font-family: arial;"><span style="font-size: small; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><br />Sprinkle on crumb topping -- bake 30
min more at 350</span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 40px; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><span style="font-size: small; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><b>Crumb Top</b><span style="font-family: arial;"><span style="font-size: small; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"> </span></span></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 40px; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><span style="font-size: small; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="font-family: arial;"><span style="font-size: small; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">1/4
c butter or margarine</span></span> </span></span><span style="font-family: arial;"><span style="font-size: small; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><br />2/3 c flour<br />1/3 c sugar<br />mix well with fork till crumbly</span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: arial;"><span style="font-size: small; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span>He also noted that it was okay to do what he often did--pick up a deep-dish crust at the market--but since I'm still avoiding the Texas nincompoops and don't have a ready source of decent pre-made crusts, I made my own, from a recipe I've used for years: Anna Thomas's Sweet Pastry Brisée from <i>The Vegetarian Epicure </i>(Random House Vintage, 1972, p. 286):</span></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 40px; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span>1 c. flour</span></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 40px; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span>1/3 c. sugar</span></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 40px; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span>1/4 lb. butter</span></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 40px; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><span style="font-size: small; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span><span>pinch of salt </span></span></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><span style="font-size: small; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span><span><span>The ingredients get mushed up together and then pressed into a 10-inch pie pan. Mine is about 1 1/2 in. high, so I press it up to the top edge but don't do anything fancy to it. I am not a great baker, and use shortcrust pastry whenever I make a pie because it's pretty much foolproof--even if it isn't any easier to make than a roll-out dough.<br /></span></span></span></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: arial;"><span style="font-size: 10pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br />I did have to make some substitutions, because I didn't have any sour cream, so I used full-fat plain yogurt. I only had turbinado sugar, so use it for both crust and pie. I also used about 1/3 c. of oats with 1/3 c. of flour for the crumb top, because that's how I usually top fruit crumbles and betties, and it adds some texture for photos. Also, I used three 9.5 oz Anjou pears, but more would have been okay. I didn't skin them, and cut them in quarters, then slices about 1/4 " thick.<br /></span></span></span></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: arial;"><span style="font-size: 10pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br />The result was so good that even TBS, who generally is not fond of sweet things, not only enjoyed the warm version we had for dessert last night, but had some for lunch today as well. </span></span></span></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: arial;"><span style="font-size: 10pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br />Pie always makes me happy, and now that I'm fully vaccinated, and TBS is halfway there, things are looking up. The weather is lovely, Spring is on its way, and although I'm not fond of the change from CST to CDT, I do enjoy having more light at the end of the day. </span></span></span></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 10pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><br />More soon, I hope. </span><br /></span></span></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 10pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-size: small;"> </span></span></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 10pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-size: small;"> </span> </span><br /></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 10pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="font-size: small;"> </span><br /></span></p>
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{page:WordSection1;}</style></p>Owlfarmerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15373358232893937182noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1284470785139066414.post-39565236143379932022019-07-30T13:00:00.001-07:002020-09-01T07:56:02.523-07:00A Fulfillment of Figs<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEikVxOi-emLuAkFDpdhLwS4HsVvf8OKDobbELc7cNrFv7PtQdoCiJOTiIkiLrCMRLLmeT6qxfONu0y_fF2z9gzAK_p0IpqFLGSWW9310W8xO0qSJDKr2ui1J298Ap76jU14FKbmxA9SHZk/s1600/IMG_1668.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEikVxOi-emLuAkFDpdhLwS4HsVvf8OKDobbELc7cNrFv7PtQdoCiJOTiIkiLrCMRLLmeT6qxfONu0y_fF2z9gzAK_p0IpqFLGSWW9310W8xO0qSJDKr2ui1J298Ap76jU14FKbmxA9SHZk/s320/IMG_1668.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-large;">I</span>'m taking a break from death cleaning for the moment, primarily because the accidental garden has come up with an abundance of figs, for the first time in I can't count how many years.<br />
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Usually I get a couple that I can just eat off the tree, being sure to say <i><a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=KRaLyFurDFM">shehecheyanu</a></i> (even though I'm not religious, I like to thank the universe for cool stuff that happens) before enjoying my first (and perhaps only) fig of the season.<br />
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Once upon a time, when there were two fig trees in the garden, I'd still not get many, but more than I have lately with the one survivor. The other one, near where the compost bins are now, apparently didn't get enough sun and finally just sort of fell apart. So I've really only had one surfeit of figs in the past, while I was still teaching, and it provided enough for making fig confit--a couple of jars of which I gave my favorite chefs at the Institution. If I can ever find the recipe I'll insert it back in here, but all I could find through the google machine were essentially for fig jam.<br />
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Almost the first thing I did when we got back from our road trip to California was to check the fig tree, since it had been pretty full of promise when we left. I was rather afraid that the Tree Rats would have demolished the baby figs, as they're currently doing with the baby pecans, but luck was with us and they were all still there. So I made sure the tree got watered if it didn't rain, and have been rewarded with a bumper crop. Just this week I've managed to produce a fig tart, a fig and caramelized onion pizza, and just a few minutes ago, fig and pecan muffins (with pecans I harvested last fall and froze). Recipes will follow, below, but first, a short disquisition on the wonder of figs.<br />
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My Grandma Clarice just loved figs. I wasn't much of a fan, but it was because of her affection for them (and my affection for her) that I even tried the ones from my own trees when our first harvest occurred the summer we moved into this house. As it turns out, figs are among <a href="http://www.whfoods.com/genpage.php?tname=foodspice&dbid=24">the world's most healthful foods</a>, and are amazingly versatile as well. They're sweet, but not cloyingly so (unless they get so ripe that they turn into jam on their own), and full of fiber, so eating them makes one feel virtuous, as well as having one's sweet tooth satisfied.<br />
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Artists have loved figs at least since Roman times, and there's a rather nice depiction of a basket of them from a fresco in a villa at Oplontis, which I used to show in my Humanities classes to keep my culinary students interested. <br />
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<a href="https://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/e/eb/Oplontis-Pintures-5643.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="416" data-original-width="603" height="220" src="https://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/e/eb/Oplontis-Pintures-5643.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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Figs are mentioned in numerous ancient texts, from Sumerian tablets to the Bible. I wouldn't be surprised if figs weren't what got Eve in trouble, since they were abundant in the Middle East, whereas apples were not. The Roman cookbook writer Apicius recommends preserving figs in honey, and I'm thinking of trying that by placing a few of my extras in a small jar and covering them with some of the Owens Valley honey we brought back with us in June. <br />
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So this is what I've got so far. The results have all been tasty, and easy to produce. But I'm not a recipe person, so you'll have to use your own judgement when it comes to amounts.<br />
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<b>Fresh Fig and Almond Tart</b><br />
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I used one Trader Joe's All Butter Puff Pastry roll for this. I stock up on them in the fall when they're available, and use them for making tarts with seasonal fruit. To make this tart, place the pastry on a piece of baking parchment, and brush it with melted butter. Then use a honey-dipper to drizzle honey over that. Quarter enough figs (about 20 small ones?) to cover the top fairly densely, and then drizzle more honey. Sprinkle slivered almonds liberally. <br /><br />
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Bake at 400F for about 15 minutes, but check after about 10. It might take as long as 20, depending on your oven. Let cool and cut into six or eight squares. You can also divide the pastry into squares before you put the figs on if you want to feed more people or create a prettier result.<br />
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<b>Fresh Fig, Caramelized Onion, and Feta Pizza</b><br />
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Although I preach incessantly about making your own pizza dough, this is high summer in north Texas and my kitchen is not air conditioned. Enter, once again, Trader Joe's, where I can get two very nice organic pizza shells (Monteli Organic) to keep in the freezer for Just Such An Occasion. Do not defrost them; in fact, don't even take them out of the freezer until you're ready to load them up. <br />
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You'll also need a large sweet onion, most of a box of real Greek feta in brine (Trader Joe's, Costco, and Whole Foods, as well as most decent supermarkets carry it; pre-crumbled feta is a poor substitute), a few herbs (Provençal herbs work well, but so do thyme and rosemary--fresh if you've got them), and a little balsamic vinegar (optional).<br />
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If you're using the Monteli shells, preheat the oven to 420F. If using your usual crust, do whatever you usually do.<br />
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Slice the onion thinly, and slowly fry it in butter and/or olive oil until it begins to brown. Add a teaspoon of herbs of Provence, and a teaspoon or two of balsamic vinegar and turn off the heat under the onions.<br />
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<br />Quarter a bunch of figs (I truly cannot remember how many I used on each pie, but if you're really concerned about the number, you can count them, above) and set aside. Get the feta out of the fridge, but don't crumble it yet, unless you know about how much you'll need.</div>
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Get the pizza shells out, and spread half the onions on each one. Then arrange the figs fairly densely on top, and then crumble the feta over them. </div>
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Place the pies directly on the rack. Cook for about 15 minutes, but check frequently to make sure nothing's burning. The ones I made the other night needed 20 minutes.</div>
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This is more or less how they should look:</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjl8BhNn1CDuv8kM1aAa8kDtYuHLzFN3yvv9nUxBB9ClAB6ZYqw8ST2mpAqg2BKaNZBLZHhOZkJPw2i8rCVskYWKU_ekg2gGGT0mw6JmrezYYno1_LsukvFPLTScjRfh9bs_984V9MiLFY/s1600/IMG_1665.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjl8BhNn1CDuv8kM1aAa8kDtYuHLzFN3yvv9nUxBB9ClAB6ZYqw8ST2mpAqg2BKaNZBLZHhOZkJPw2i8rCVskYWKU_ekg2gGGT0mw6JmrezYYno1_LsukvFPLTScjRfh9bs_984V9MiLFY/s320/IMG_1665.jpg" width="240" /></a></div>
<br /><b>Fresh Fig and Pecan Muffins</b><br />
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These turned out really well. I combined several generic muffin recipes and came up with these ingredients:<br />
<ul>
<li>2 cups white whole wheat flour</li>
<li>2 tsp baking powder</li>
<li>1 tsp baking soda</li>
<li>1/2 tsp salt </li>
<li>3/4-1 cup chopped pecans</li>
<li>1/2 cup brown or turbinado sugar</li>
<li>1 egg</li>
<li>1 cup plain yoghurt </li>
<li>3/4 cup avocado oil</li>
<li>1 cup finely chopped figs</li>
</ul>
Mix all the dry ingredients together thoroughly; in a separate bowl, mix all the wet ingredients (egg through figs) and then add them to the dry slowly, without beating: just enough to incorporate everything. Muffin batter is lumpy by nature, so don't try to make it smooth. <br />
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Divide the mixture evenly into twelve muffin cups. It's going to look like a lot, but these don't rise all that much, so you can stuff the cups. Most muffin recipes will tell you to butter the muffin cups if you use them, but I discovered that I had a box of silicone cups that are not only reusable, but they release the muffins beautifully. I sprinkled a little bit of vanilla sugar on each muffin for a little
extra flavor burst. A little more brown sugar will work well for that,
too.<br />
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Bake at 350F for 25 minutes, or until an inserted toothpick comes out clean. These are not terribly sweet, so you can feel really virtuous about eating all that high quality fiber. If you want to enhance the pecan flavor a bit, toast them before you add them to the muffin mixture.<br />
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I still have quite a few figs left over, and will have to either <a href="https://homesteadheroine.com/2014/08/14/how-to-freeze-figs/">freeze them</a> or use them in something else yummy in the next day or so. I have in mind to try the recipe for <a href="http://www.indigoscones.com/2014/07/fresh-fig-breakfast-cake-and-road-trip.html">Fresh Fig Breakfast Cake</a> from the Indigo Scones blog, but the results will have to wait.<br />
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<span style="font-size: x-small;">Image notes: all of the photos are mine, except for the Oplonto fresco, which comes from Wikimedia Commons. The opening shot is a cheap excuse to link this post to <a href="http://skyley.blogspot.com/">Skywatch Friday</a>, which I hope everyone who comes here will visit because the weekly sky photos from around the world are terrific.</span><br />
<br />Owlfarmerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15373358232893937182noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1284470785139066414.post-81785367135608467862019-07-11T13:35:00.001-07:002019-07-12T09:57:12.916-07:00Curating One's Life, Part 1<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<span style="font-size: x-large;">A</span>s a result my infrequent, and generally unsuccessful attempts to jumpstart this blog, ideas about potential post topics flit through this old brain like so many bits of paper in a tornado. But I have been thinking lately about the whole process of organizing one's life so that one can, as one ages, make some sense of it. I even got a book for the Kindle app on my iPad to inspire me: Margareta Rasmussen's <a href="https://www.amazon.com/Gentle-Art-Swedish-Death-Cleaning/dp/1501173243">The Gentle Art of Swedish Death Cleaning</a> (Scribner, 2018). The whole thing is far less morbid than one might expect, and because I'm a natural born snark I love mentioning it to people, and offending their delicate sensibilities.<br />
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The truth is, that I'm genetically predisposed to be a gatherer. My mother's name was Hoard, after all, and she lived up to it. And I'm still facing the prospect of going through yet more of her stuff next week as we finally tackle The Great Garage Clean Out. The poor woman has been dead for twenty years and I'm still doing her death cleaning.<br />
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Having decided not to put my children through this, I've started tackling small tasks that can help me sort things out in an organized way, and even if my kids don't want to keep my stuff, at least it will be more or less catalogued so that they might be able to fob it off on somebody who actually wants it.<br />
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Take my vast collection of past issues of the British Edition of <i>Country Living</i> magazine. My poor husband has been hauling this stash (well, at least the pre-2000 collection; it was mixed in with a complete collection of <i>Martha Stewart Living</i>, until I finally went through those and recycled 90% of the content) every time we've moved since 1988. The first issue I own was bought in London in 1987, and I've been an irregular purchaser ever since. Since 2013 I've subscribed electronically through Zinio, but before then I had amassed 181 issues, including twelve issues of <i>Countryside</i>, an American knockoff that only lasted a couple of years, and to which I subscribed in Chicago until it stopped publication--about four issues after I'd sent in the check.<br />
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Now why, you might ask, would an old desert rat, exiled in north Texas, hold such affection for a British shelter magazine when there are more than enough locally relevant publications around here (also available as e-zines these days) to keep any homebody happy. Well there are quite a few, and I subscribe to a number of them, but even those tend to be published in Australia or Canada rather than in the USA, unless they're like <i>Eating Well</i> or holdovers from my hippie days like <i>Mother Earth News</i> and centered on sustainable eating and living.<br />
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The thing about <i>Country Living</i> UK, however, is that it has always been focused on stuff I'm a sucker for: rustic design, sustainability, smallholding, countryside, Aga (and other) ranges, Smeg refrigerators, and old creaky houses with personality and a need for TLC.<br />
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I once had a dear friend from the Hampshire city of Portsmouth, who thought I was completely bonkers because I had this bizarre (to her) sense of style and taste that meshed far more with the Country Living aesthetic than did her own. She died some years ago, but she would be equally dismayed by my loyalty to the BBC show, "Escape to the Country," watched loyally by the Beloved Spouse and me whenever we can find an episode on YouTube we haven't yet seen.<br />
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In my own defense, I have to say that I come by this proclivity genetically. The results of my Ancestry DNA test showed me to be far more British than anything. A smidgen of German and Dutch, but all the rest English, Irish, Scottish and maybe a little Welsh. Even the tad of Scandinavian that showed up in the first go-round (as more data comes in, the picture becomes clearer) has disappeared. (There was a short article in the last update with advice on how to get one's Viking tattoo removed.) And all those Brits mostly went to Canada before they moved south and west, so there's no escaping the Commonwealth.<br />
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I'm still trying to locate the origins of some of the ancestors, but have no great urge to find any lost royalty or famous folk. But since they all seem to be from villages rather than cities, I suppose that accounts for my affection for open spaces (although not too heavily treed), and for windy wastes and Thomas Hardy novels.<br />
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So today I managed to locate all of the old issues scattered about in bins and cubbies around the house, and have divided them roughly into seasons (Jan-Mar, Apr-Jun, Jul-Sep, Oct-Dec) and will rotate them in appropriate stacks onto the bottom shelf of the stand next to my comfy chair where I can re-enjoy them seasonally and perhaps get inspired to do something other than pine away for the lochs and firths.<br />
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My last post extolled the virtues of curatorial apps, and my adventures on Pinterest have been especially helpful. One reason why we'll never have to haul boxes of magazine clippings around again (aside from the probability that we won't be moving anywhere) is that all the inspiring images I used to collect are now neatly housed on some sixty boards sorted into terribly clever and artful categories, able to be consulted on any whim.<br />
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That is, at least, until the EMP hits and I spend the rest of my life regretting having tipped all those interesting, inspiring old articles into the recycle bin during the latest spasm of Death Cleaning.<br />
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<span style="font-size: x-small;">Image note: All of the <i>Country Living</i> issues during the first sort-through. The cat tried to keep me company on the table, but soon left in disgust, all of the bare spots having been taken up by magazines. Taken on the iPhone.</span><br />
<br />Owlfarmerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15373358232893937182noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1284470785139066414.post-80730423064397424092018-12-31T10:15:00.002-08:002018-12-31T10:15:59.877-08:00In Praise of Digital Collection Aids<br />
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<span style="font-size: x-large;">A</span>lmost a year after I promised (yet again) to attend more closely to this blog, and having broken my promise (yet again), I'm back. No promises this time. Just a post.<br />
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One reason for not fulfilling promises is the distraction factor presented by other social media. In the last year I've discovered <a href="https://www.pinterest.com/owlfarmer/">Pinterest</a>, and <a href="https://www.pearltrees.com/">Pearltrees</a>--about which more later--and have become fairly active on <a href="https://www.quora.com/profile/Candace-Uhlmeyer">Quora</a>, which allows me to spout. Profusely.<br />
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But this post is really about why I've chosen to ignore my misgivings about "sharing" and jump onto a couple of social sites that have turned out to be especially useful and have enabled me to organize stuff more successfully than I've ever been able to before. Online, anyway.<br />
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Pearltrees (my account is private, because I don't want to participate in the wider social aspects of the platform; it's also pricey for the features I want) has given me a way to archive interesting articles and information, and to categorize them helpfully for later use. <a href="https://getpocket.com/a/queue/">Pocket</a> does something of the same thing, and I do use it as another bookmarkish sort of app, but anything worth keeping for very long goes to Pearltrees.<br />
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The real jewel, though, is Pinterest. Those of you who know me, and have heard me spew on about the evils of Facebook and the like, might be surprised at this new development in my digital evolution. Do remember, however, that although I'm a slow adopter, once I find something especially useful (like course web pages and blogging), I'm all in. In addition, Pinterest doesn't overly or incessantly bombard me with ads for crap I'm decidedly not interested in. Instead, it loads me up with nice photos of stuff related to my boards, and makes it easy for me to pick and choose, and edit, and discard when necessary.<br />
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I realize that this is a form of virtual hoarding, but at least it doesn't involve material objects (for the most part), and it's really pretty. I love being able to create categories of objects and describe those categories amusingly when necessary. But the ability to collect images of geological structures, maps, food, architecture, plants, and myriad other objects in a way that doesn't require me to be cutting pictures out of magazines incessantly and trying to find ways to make them available when I need them. I'm also astonished that so many contributors are such good photographers, whose photos enrich the visual quality of my boards and provide me no end of entertainment and wonder.<br />
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So yes, I do have quite a few boards (58 public and 1 private), with numerous sub-categories; I also follow quite a few people (115) and have a few more followers (273 at last count). The experience has provided me with a number of ideas for posts here. Whether or not any of that comes to fruition depends on how far along I get on other projects, including the <a href="https://owlfarmer.blogspot.com/">Farm</a>. That has suffered almost as much from neglect as the Cabinet has, but for different reasons--including the maintenance of a hand-written reading journal I keep up much more faithfully.<br />
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And Quora, on which I get to opine on subjects I actually know something about (mostly food and breastfeeding at this point, with an occasional foray into things archaeological or design-related). They made me a "top writer" in 2018, for which I was offered a subscription to the New York Times (I already subscribe), so there's not much to that except a chance to set people straight on how to avoid wasting food and how to wean babies. I get to follow interesting people who say interesting things about things that interest me. It does take away from writing time, though, even though I've learned quite a bit from the experience. I can't hide behind a screen name, though, and that does tend to temper my bent toward snarkitude. I tried to be "Hoban Washburn" for a while, but got outed and had to stop. I did not, however, realize it was a no-no, so my misdemeanor was unintentional.<br />
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And if anyone's wondering, yes, I do have an Instagram account, and one for YouTube, but don't use either. I'm absolutely positive that nobody but my immediate family would be interested in my cat, dog, and backyard wildlife videos, and Instagram doesn't add anything to what Pinterest offers me. But they're there, just in case.<br />
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I am spending some time updating the blog roll (which I started to do at the beginning of the year but got distracted), so if you're coming back after an absence, check out some of the goodies on the side bar. And do visit the <a href="https://www.pinterest.com/owlfarmer/">Pinterest</a> page if you're interested in what interests me these days.<br />
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Also, have a great new year. In many ways, it couldn't possibly be as bad as this one has been--but at least it should be interesting.<br />
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<span style="font-size: x-small;">Note: I apologize for the over-usage of "interest" in its various forms. Although initially unintentional, I started having fun with it--and with the derivation of "P-interest." My beloved daughter, a long-time user, laughed heartily when I initially called it "PIN-ter-est" instead of "PIN-trest." It always does take me a while to catch on.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: x-small;">Photo note: This is the shot of my renovated downstairs bathroom, which I've used as the "cover" photo for my "Bathing Rooms and Water Closets" board on Pinterest.</span>Owlfarmerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15373358232893937182noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1284470785139066414.post-57262351462665877392018-01-30T11:35:00.000-08:002018-01-30T11:37:36.349-08:00Relaunch<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<span style="font-size: x-large;">T</span>hat's me, in the photo, hiding amidst the fronds of fennel last summer. I'm pretending to be a Black Swallowtail larvum, cleverly avoiding predators as I munch my way toward transforming into my adult version.<br />
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Only I never made it. Nature is often clever, allowing critters to blend in with their backgrounds in order to propagate themselves. For some reason, however, these caterpillars don't hide very well, and I (me, not my caterpillar avatar) watched at least three of them, hopefully, over a couple of weeks. I really wanted to see the process worked out in my very own garden, so as soon as I saw a female Swallowtail hovering over the fennel crop planted specifically for her kind, I'd anxiously await the arrival of a new member of the family.<br />
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None of them made it. The local cardinals--which have become something like the tree rats in their ubiquity and obnoxity (not a word, I know)--made quick meals of them when I wasn't looking, and I never saw a single chrysalis develop.<br />
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At any rate, I used this photo as a tentative metaphor for what I hope will happen over the next few months. I was feeling terribly guilty about not posting for all these months until I decided to update my blog roll. Hardly any one I used to read all the time is still posting regularly, so now I don't feel so bad.<br />
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But I'm trying to mend my ways, and have plans for several small explorations of ephemera that could lead to a more-or-less monthly habit. There are so many things out there worth mentioning, and so many of us who need distracting from current preoccupations, that I'm going to try to get this thing going again.<br />
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Unless one of the cardinals, emboldened by the nice weather, decides to have me for lunch. Fortunately for the butterflies, they (unlike the squirrels) haven't started having sex yet, so spring is still a way off, and the caterpillar in this case is only a metaphor.<br />
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For the moment, though, I'll be tidying up the blog roll and adding a few things, and collecting miscellanea to add in future posts.Owlfarmerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15373358232893937182noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1284470785139066414.post-85926703462566805662017-07-10T11:09:00.001-07:002017-07-10T11:21:15.131-07:00Still Living<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<span style="font-size: x-large;">O</span>ver the last few weeks I've mostly been loafing and contemplating the universe, enjoying The Beloved Spouse's summer holiday and the unusual reasonableness of the weather. Most mornings or late afternoons I can take an hour or so to read in the hammock we've installed in the back yard, a good command post for observing snoozing animals and working through the many stacks of books I've piled here and there with the intention of getting to at last. Trouble is, I accumulate more before I finish the ones I have in process, so the piles aren't getting any shorter. </div>
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We did, however, make time to invite family over for brunch last Sunday, which meant getting the house tidied up, and as I went through the rooms hoovering away I kept noticing how still life compositions turn up everywhere. I'm not really sure how conscious they are, stemming as they do from the desire to put things out that remind me of our lives: rocks, shells, books, tchotchkes, photos, and other bits of memorabilia. The phenomenon is unmistakable, however. An eighteenth-century Dutch painter could make something of these little tableaux.</div>
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When I was still teaching, I'd spend a fair amount of time in art history classes pointing out the ubiquity of still lifes among the works of almost any artist one could study. This genre reaches an apex during the Baroque, of course, especially among the Dutch, but it's really everywhere--and everywhen--throughout the history of human creative endeavor. Although denigrated by nineteenth-century art historians as less important or indicative of talent and imagination than history painting, these visual <i>Wunderkammern</i> appear with increasing frequency after Roman mural paintings started filling the walls of villas in Pompeii and Herculaneum. </div>
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Early photographers must have been grateful for the very stillness of the still life because of the long exposure times the technology initially required, and Louis Daguerre's wonderful studio photos of assorted objects or shelves of fossils mimic the painted compositions of found objects popular among the collectors of the nineteenth century. My favorite examples for students were these:</div>
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<a href="https://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/d/df/Lous_Jacques_Mande_Daguerre_Shells_and_Fossils_1839.sized.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="547" data-original-width="800" height="218" src="https://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/d/df/Lous_Jacques_Mande_Daguerre_Shells_and_Fossils_1839.sized.jpg" width="320" /></a><span style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><br />Louis Jacques Mande Daguerre, <i>Shells and Fossils</i> 1839</span></span></div>
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<a href="https://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/b/ba/Alexandre-Isidore_Leroy_De_Barde_-_Selection_of_Shells_Arranged_on_Shelves_-_WGA12903.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="800" data-original-width="571" height="320" src="https://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/b/ba/Alexandre-Isidore_Leroy_De_Barde_-_Selection_of_Shells_Arranged_on_Shelves_-_WGA12903.jpg" width="228" /></a><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><br />Alexandre-Isidore Leroy De Barde,
<span style="font-style: italic;">Selection </span><span style="font-style: italic;">of Shells Arranged on </span><span style="font-style: italic;">Shelves</span> (before 1828)</span></span></div>
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A couple of years ago I participated in a MOOC offered by Cal Arts called "Live!:
A History of Art for Artists, Animators and Gamers." One of my favorite assignments involved creating a "world in a box" and my submission, called <i>This Is Not a Baroque Still Life</i>, looked like this:
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Sorry about the quality of the image, but I'm too lazy to take it into Photoshop to make it look prettier. According to my concept statement, "I
tried to include items associated with traditional still life compositions, but
with anachronistic elements (like the nineteenth-century photo) as well. An
emptied bookshelf provided the frame." Had I been more religious about the composition, I'd have made it more three-dimensional by hanging some bits off the edge, but the components were fairly appropriate. Perhaps some day I'll try painting it and bring the process full circle.<br />
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To get back to my original notion behind this post, the tendency to create compositions like this seems to be a major aspect of how we embellish our homes. I hesitate to say "decorate," because I'm not sure that the urge to surround ourselves with objects is fundamentally about prettying things up (which what decoration suggests to me)--but rather about memory. The things I stash on surfaces (book cases, sideboards, tables, even windowsills) are things that remind me of people and places I have loved. They're not all just visual, either. When I picked up a bowl of desert holly this morning (I needed its normal resting place yesterday to hold brunchy things and had stashed it atop the china cabinet), its scent immediately took me back to Owens Valley, where I'd (probably illegally) picked it to bring back to Texas.<br />
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The increasingly sophisticated photo apps on smart phones is making it possible to record my little domestic museums, and to play with them in various ways. I'm amused that what I'm doing with my iPhone camera these days is something like what I had my students do in my History of Art and Design classes many years ago. The original assignment was for them to photograph a still life we composed in class (using a digital camera that recorded the image on a 3.5" floppy disc!) and then to manipulate it in Photoshop to make it look like the work of a particular artist or designer. I still have several of these stashed away, and perhaps some day I'll resurrect them and feature a collection of student work on the Cabinet. But here's what a simple app (probably Old Photo Pro or Vintique) did to a shot of one of my window sill collections:<br />
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I'm not sure why I don't have the original orientation in my library any more, but the idea's still evident (and including the spiderwebs was intentional). The objects all hold a bit of meaning: a dried gourd from an early garden at this house, an old clay pipe from my misspent youth, a <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Kokeshi">Kokeshi</a> doll (part of a collection from my childhood years in Japan), a ceramic cat that belonged to my mother, and an incense dish with little lead figures (a hut, a crab, a boat) designed for use with bonsai arrangements. It occurs to me only now that the background actually records a version of our north yard that no longer exists--the ladder having since almost disintegrated and been moved to behind the garage, and the pots on the fence having been broken by some large feral intruder only a few days ago. The objects have been placed more or less randomly and are occasionally cycled in and out of the grouping, as is the custom in Japan. A display (although I hesitate to call this sort of randomness a real "display") in a Japanese <a href="http://www.presentationzen.com/presentationzen/2009/10/tokonoma-and-the-art-of-the-focal-point.html"><i>tokonoma</i></a> is thoughtfully and purposefully arranged to set a mood or to show off a prized group of possessions, usually fewer than what I typically include in my more accidental collections.<br />
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Creating still life compositions seems to be an innate tendency in people all over the world, and perhaps this activity reflects fundamental cultural needs--for memory, reflection, contemplation, or even ostentation: personal <i>Wunderkammern</i> archiving moments in individual lives. I wish I had noticed this before I stopped teaching, because I probably could have gotten more mileage out of the concept had I realized how fundamental the idea of composing personal items into meaningful assemblages is to our creative lives.<br />
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<span style="font-size: x-small;">Image credits: The Daguerre and Leroy de Barde works are included via Wikimedia Commons. The rest are my own.</span><br />
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I'm not sure why I don't have the original orientation in my library any more, but the idea's still evident. The objects all hold a bit of meaning: a dried gourd from an early garden at this house, an old clay pipe from my misspent youth, a Kokeshi doll (part of a collection from my childhood in Japan), a ceramic cat that belonged to my mother, and an incense dish with little lead figures (a hut, a crab, a boat) designed for use with bonsai arrangements. It occurs to me only now, that the background records a version of our north yard that no longer exists--the ladder having since almost disintegrated, and the pots on the fence having been broken by some large feral intruder only a few days ago. The objects have been placed more ore less randomly and, as life in Japan taught me, are occasionally cycled in and out of the grouping. A display (although I hesitate to call this sort of randomness a real "display") in a Japanese <i>tokonoma</i> is thoughtfully and purposefully arranged to set a mood or to show off a prized group of possessions, usually fewer than what I usually include in my more accidental collections. Creating still life compositions seems to be an innate tendency in people all over the world, and perhaps this activity reflects fundamental cultural needs--for memory, reflection, contemplation, or even ostentation: personal <i>Wunderkammern</i> archiving moments in individual lives.
<span style="font-size: x-small;">Image credits: The Daguerre and Leroy de Barde works are included via Wikimedia Commons. The rest are my own.</span></span></span></span></span></div>
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</style>Owlfarmerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15373358232893937182noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1284470785139066414.post-71043075794940431302017-01-16T13:07:00.000-08:002017-01-17T12:35:45.038-08:00Of Cats and Caravans<span style="font-size: x-large;">O</span>ne of my Big Plans after I retired was to get back into the habit of blogging--not so much because I'm aware of any large fan base who might be missing my witty takes on recent events, but rather because it's a way of keeping my brain from turning into mush. Not having to update course material, keep on top of new and interesting happenings in the art world, and find new and engaging ways of trying to enlighten my increasingly less interested students holds the very real possibility of my losing myself in house porn of the escape-from-Texas variety. Writing is one way to maintain my sanity, and to ensure that not everything we do descends into the fog of fleeting, aged memory.<br />
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Since the end of the Spring term last year, when I forever severed my ties with the for-profit academic world, I've managed to find more to do than I'd ever imagined. Not many of the projects have been completed, but many (such as filling up the family tree on Ancestry with as much information as I can locate, and providing photos to accompany names) are well underway. And in addition to enjoying last summer essentially goofing off with the Beloved Spouse, I got to enjoy the more recent winter holiday in its entirety without having to rush back to work on January 2. Alas, he returns to teaching tomorrow, but when he's finished with the Spring semester, we hope to be heading west in our little fake Shasta Airflyte (2015 reproduction) to visit relatives and my ancestral homeland of Owens Valley, California.<br />
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On the way, we mean to do a bit of scouting for new digs in New Mexico and Arizona, or even somewhere near the old homestead in Lone Pine. With the trip in mind, we've been taking care of recall issues with the Shasta, and have been spiffing her (tentatively called "Lola," but also more recently referred to as "The Folly") up with a comfy new mattress and a bit of vintage trailer decor. We're trying not to get too cute about it all, but did put new "baby moon" hubcaps to make up for the absence of the whitewall tires it came with. We got new tires before we had a problematic axle replaced, but kept them because they ride better than the originals. We've opted to keep the bed made up permanently, rather than keeping the dinette in place, figuring that most places we camp will have a picnic table, and we're on the lookout for a couple of '50s era TV trays. A two-inch memory foam mattress makes for a much more comfortable sleeping experience, so we'll keep it made up for now.<br />
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Last week, during the teeter-tottering weather cycle that moved us from balmy to frigid and back again within less than a week, I decided to spend the afternoon reading my favorite British shelter publication on my iPad whilst enjoying the pleasant weather and a glass of Kombucha. I was a bit surprised when my cat Emma decided to join me. She's not the most companionable of cats, and not really an out-door feline (she loves it out, but only gets her way when I can keep an eye on her), but I hadn't even quite settled onto the bed when she hopped up and lay down next to me.<br />
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It wasn't long before the sun started warming her up more than she apparently wanted to be warmed, so she moved over to the other side and proceeded to look more comfortable than any being should be allowed to look.<br />
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After a good long snooze, she decided to see what was going on outside, and perched on the edge of the bed, exposing her broad side. <br />
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She soon decided to abandon me, but not completely. For quite some time she surveyed her domain from the cedar porch the Beloved Spouse made (to make it easier for the dog to get in and out), and which has become one of her favorite spaces.<br />
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All of this cuteness is somewhat unusual for Emma (also known as Mrs. Peel). I adopted her when her former person opted to give up the cat to marry an allergic husband. Originally a Hurricane Katrina survivor, Emma is tough and opinionated, and not particularly affectionate--unless she wants something. Like being let out. But she did help us solve our mouse problem last spring, and since our dog Woody died last summer, she serves as a some-time companion to Arlo when he's outside. He would like to be friends, but she's too aloof to be chummy. Tolerating his presence is about as good as it gets.<br />
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I don't mean to go on about cats (and no, I am <i>not</i> becoming a crazy old cat lady!), but I'm usually so grumpy myself (especially over on <a href="http://owlfarmer.blogspot.com/">Owl's Farm</a>) that I thought I'd post something mildly amusing to help me get through this week. January 20 is coming far too quickly, and this little bit of escapism seems well placed.<br />
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Addendum: Our sanguinity was somewhat disturbed a couple of days ago, when--during another spell of reading in the trailer--the rear window (opened to enjoy the warm afternoon) abruptly shattered and fell onto the gravel driveway that my husband had so carefully constructed last summer. This particular window was one of the aforementioned recall issues, and we weren't the first to experience the problem. But this was <i>supposed </i>to have been fixed. We're not sure quite what to do, but it looks as though we'll take matters into our own hands and replace the glass (as we've done temporarily) with plastic, a solution others seem to have used successfully. Sigh.Owlfarmerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15373358232893937182noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1284470785139066414.post-1885032081333480332016-08-10T14:02:00.003-07:002016-08-10T14:16:53.604-07:00Under Construction<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<span style="font-size: x-large;">T</span>he Farm (and activities discussed thereupon) has kept me busy of late, but I am also painfully aware that the Cabinet needs attention.<br />
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To wit, the new banner and perhaps the layout are temporary, until I can spend more time on the basics, and start writing about all the intriguing stuff that's going on here and in the world.<br />
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So, in a way, I'm building: clearing out, tidying up, dealing with technological ignorance (on my part). I thus thought it best to go back to nature for illustrations. The nest is from the copse next to where we park our Shasta (no undergoing repairs in Sherman, but who's been dubbed Lola), and was taken in 2014. Although this one's gone, there's another nearby now; having been constructed from plastic and other reminders of the impact of human beings on the neighborhood, however, it's not really worth a photo. I'll undoubtedly take one for a future post, but when I was looking for something to use for this one, nothing else popped up. It also reminds me that the back yard isn't always a furnace, and there are times during which one can actually enjoy it.<br />
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And since I've realized that these entries are really for me, and perhaps for my children, to be used as memory devices, my future scribblings will probably focus on the local, rather than the universal.<br />
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Coming soon: a compendium of backyard mycology, domestic still-life compositions, Romantic science/exploration, and some catching up on museology in the blogosphere.<br />
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Addendum: The new banner photo is a composite image of a large chunk of North America taken from low orbit on 4 January 2012<span class="mw-mmv-title"> from the VIIRS
instrument aboard NASA's Earth-observing
satellite, Suomi NPP--via Wikimedia Commons.</span>Owlfarmerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15373358232893937182noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1284470785139066414.post-55584726234149498282015-11-28T11:55:00.001-08:002015-11-28T12:28:28.826-08:00Gallimaufry<br />
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<span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">November: The autumn harvest of acorns, on which pigs are feeding</span></span></div>
<span style="font-size: x-large;">A</span>s part of my effort to get back into the habit of posting things I find interesting, I thought it prudent to alert readers to appropriate sites newly discovered. I hope to do this at least twice a year in order to keep up, rather than stashing the "pellets" in some irretrievable file on one of my devices. Only yesterday I'd read the November chapter of Tom Hodgkinson's <a href="http://idler.co.uk/product/brave-old-world-a-practical-guide-to-husbandry/" target="_blank">Brave Old World: A Practical Guide to Husbandry, or the Fine Art of Looking After Yourself</a> (in print)--in honor of which I chose the opening image--and was reminded of his magazine, <a href="http://idler.co.uk/" target="_blank">The Idler</a>, to which I once subscribed in a digital version. That disappeared from both my Exactly account and my iPad, and I only think about it occasionally. The web page is still active, though, and the contents as eclectic as ever. But this all made me think of the other brain-enhancing offerings available through the digital universe--the ones that make me not altogether sorry about the technological state of the universe. <br />
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<b><a href="http://www.laphamsquarterly.org/" target="_blank">Lapham's Quarterly</a></b> describes itself as "a magazine of history and ideas," but it's rather more than that. I had to stop subscribing to it in print because I'm running out of room on the bookshelf it occupies, but don't know how long I can stay away. Founded eponymously by the American writer Lewis Lapham (who edited <a href="http://harpers.org/" target="_blank">Harper's Magazine</a> on and off for some thirty years), on the surface it may seem rather like an intellectual's <i>Reader's Digest</i>. It does present snippets of texts from anywhere and anywhen, arranged topically (this quarter's focus is Fashion); but it also features charts and graphs of interesting phenomena (<a href="http://www.laphamsquarterly.org/crimes-punishments/charts-graphs/abandon-all-hope" target="_blank">Abandon All Hope: Punishments meted out to sinners in Dante's "Inferno"</a>) and maps (<a href="http://www.laphamsquarterly.org/travel/maps/beaten-paths" target="_blank">Beaten Paths: Brief Histories of Four Famous Routes</a>). The website is quite complete, and could take weeks to wade through--especially if one wanders off on tangents, as I am prone to do.<br />
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An old friend/former spouse recently reminded me that I hadn't included <b><a href="http://publicdomainreview.org/" target="_blank">The Public Domain Review</a></b> in my blog roll--an oversight I will immediately remedy. Billed as "a project of the Open Knowledge Foundation," the <i>Review</i> is a compendium of essays on every imaginable topic (culture & history, art & illustrations, philosophy, science & medicine, &c. &c.) and collections arranged by medium (images, books, film, audio), time (pre-16th century through 20th), and topic. This is where I direct my art history students to gorgeous scans of the <a href="http://publicdomainreview.org/collections/labors-of-the-months-from-the-tres-riches-heures/" target="_blank">Très Riches Heures of the Duc de Berry</a>, the November calendar page of which introduces this post. One of my favorite image collections centers on <a href="http://publicdomainreview.org/collections/colour-wheels-charts-and-tables-through-history/" target="_blank">Colour Wheels, Charts, and Tables Through History</a>, and another on <a href="http://publicdomainreview.org/collections/the-maps-of-piri-reis/" target="_blank">The Maps of Piri Reis</a> (an Ottoman navigator who collected them in his <a href="http://art.thewalters.org/detail/19195" target="_blank">Book of Navigation</a> (the link is to a downloadable scan from the Walters Art Museum in Baltimore); two of the maps appear below.<br />
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<span style="font-size: x-small;">Map of the island of Bozjah (Tenedos) off the coast of Anatolia</span> </div>
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<span style="font-size: x-small;">Map of the Calabrian coast from Catanzaro to Siquillace</span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br />Once again, it would take ages to plumb the depths of this true cabinet of wonders. As soon as I've finished this post, in fact, I'll be back at it, having forgotten about its utter richness.</span> </span></div>
<br />
Fairly recently I've run across two off-beat journals, one from Australia, one from Britain, with some aspects in common and some not so much. Both are interesting and entertaining, and offer lovely editions for the iPad.<br />
<br />
<b><a href="http://www.smithjournal.com.au/" target="_blank">Smith Journal</a></b> has a blog that offers an idea of the eclectic range of its content, which can, indeed be wondrous. It was a little difficult to make it past the cover of the current issue (an Elvis impersonator), but once inside there are articles on the Halley VI research station in Antarctica, Astronaut patches, preserving scientific knowledge in anticipation of the apocalypse, and a tightrope walker. Previous issues have explored the fates of lost explorers, cardboard architecture, and small, rural Australian museums. It also features interesting products, some of which are obtainable outside of down under. The digital edition is easy to navigate and looks lovely. I subscribed to this through the iTunes store rather than Zinio (which is where I get most of my 'zines). <br />
<br />
The newest of the lot is <b><a href="http://www.ernestjournal.co.uk/" target="_blank">Ernest Journal</a></b>, which combines three media: biannual print journal, blog, and iPad magazine. There's also a Pinterest board, which I'll undoubtedly follow (making two boards I actually look at besides my own). It was mentioned in an article from the online version of the British edition of <i>Country Living</i> (the most important source of house porn in this family), and because digital editions come with links, I was able to connect immediately. I don't think I've been back to the original article in <i>CL</i> yet. This one, too, is obtainable through the iTunes people. On the cover it notes a focus on Curious Histories, Workmanship, Slow Adventure, Timeless Style, and Wild Food. This may well define what "eclectic" actually means in practice. At any rate, I started with issue 5 and immediately purchased issue 1 as well (at half price). The subscription rate for the digital edition is about 20 USD per year, but worth it. Contents of issue 5 include the science of terrariums and the history of Diableries (3D stereoscopic photos of devil-related dioramas). I found this latter article especially interesting, having just finished a Coursera MOOC devoted to <a href="https://www.coursera.org/course/vicphoto" target="_blank">Victorian Photography</a>. <br />
<br />
For those of us who haven't completely abandoned the past, I highly recommend <b><a href="http://prettynostalgic.co.uk/product-category/pretty-nostalgic-magazine-series/" target="_blank">Pretty Nostalgic</a></b>, not only because it collects interesting things, but because it's actually grounded in a unifying set of principles (centered on spending wisely, wasting less, and appreciating more). Most of the content has to do with the 1940s (primarily war years and rationing), but includes vast amounts of information on how folks lived in the past without insisting that we give up the present. It also unabashedly celebrates Britain and British history. The digital copy is available through iTunes or Exactly. The most recent issue is a Yearbook, packed with pretty pictures, paintings, old printed stuff, curiosities, and articles related to the seasons. Just the thing for the third dank, damp, wretched day in a row, to hold me over until the sun comes out and I can get back to sorting out the garden for winter.<br />
<br />
Finally, there's <b><a href="https://www.brainpickings.org/" target="_blank">Brain Pickings</a></b>. On the Google search page it's described as "an inventory of cross-disciplinary interestingness, spanning art, science, design, history, philosophy, and more." It's another serendipitous find, this time from a review of Lisa Randall's new book, <a href="https://www.brainpickings.org/2015/11/28/dark-matter-and-the-dinosaurs-lisa-randall/" target="_blank">Dark Matter and the Dinosaurs: The Astounding Interconnectedness of the Universe</a> in the <i>New York Times</i>, by Maria Popova who edits <i>Brain Pickings</i>. (The link is to her review on the blog.) The <i>Times</i> always posts its authors' credentials, and Popova's included this organization. The articles on the page are interesting and seductive, and many of them are imaginatively illustrated. In fact, there's even a chart of <a href="https://www.brainpickings.org/2014/06/25/7-learnings-holstee-poster/" target="_blank">7 Life-Learnings from 7 Years of Brain Pickings, Illustrated</a>. And by now, you all know how fond I am of charts and maps.<br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: x-small;">Image notes: all images were acquired from <a href="http://publicdomainreview.org/" target="_blank">The Public Domain Review</a>, as noted above.</span>Owlfarmerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15373358232893937182noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1284470785139066414.post-46241278339415322502015-07-22T09:58:00.003-07:002015-07-22T09:58:41.499-07:00Beginning Again<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/8/8f/Carta_Marina_Orca.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="207" src="https://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/8/8f/Carta_Marina_Orca.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
<span style="font-size: x-large;">O</span>ver the last few years I've had little time for messing about in blogs, and this one has suffered more than the others. But I "retired" at the end of the Spring Quarter, and am now teaching part-time where I've spent the last twenty years as a full-time faculty member.<br />
<br />
What this means is that I'm out of excuses. And because my interests in the oddities of human materialism hasn't abated one single bit, I fully intend to get back to documenting my discoveries in the Cabinet. I keep running into amazing, interesting, troubling, astonishing (enter more adjectives here) things in my often random travels through the 'verse--especially since I've become a full-fledged MOOC junkie. The most recent effort was a course on Sagas and Space sponsored by the University of Zurich through <a href="https://www.coursera.org/" target="_blank">Coursera</a>. It focused on Norse sagas and the concept of space recorded in them; the material was fascinating and did more to kickstart my aging brainwaves than anything in recent memory. The opening image is a tribute to the experience: a sea monster (a whale being attacted by orcas?) from Olaus Magnus's very early map of the north, the <a href="http://www.wdl.org/en/item/3037/" target="_blank">Carta Marina</a>.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/thumb/e/ea/Carta_Marina.jpeg/350px-Carta_Marina.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="236" src="https://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/thumb/e/ea/Carta_Marina.jpeg/350px-Carta_Marina.jpeg" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
I loved the course's structure (it was only eight weeks long) and the fact that I got to learn stuff I never really imagined was out there. It tied in well with both my interest in William Morris (he translated <a href="http://morrisedition.lib.uiowa.edu/translationsIcelandic.html" target="_blank">a number of Icelandic sagas</a>) and in maps, and reminded me why I started writing this blog in the first place. Not only that, it will help me set my students straight about Marvel's version of the Norse cosmology when next I get to teach the Myth class (maybe once a year now).<br />
<br />
So now things are really coming together. I've spent the last couple of hours cleaning up the rolls on the sidebar, and have eliminated a couple of categories and several now-defunct blogs. A few I was reluctant to eliminate altogether, even though they're no longer active, so I created an archive to house them. In future I'll update the lists with some of my new discoveries, but will leave you with this morsel discovered during the Sagas and Space adventure: <a href="http://idolsofthecave.com/4-the-monstrous-sea-pig-featuring-allis-markham-part-1-nov-2014/" target="_blank">The Monstrous Sea Pig</a> from <a href="http://idolsofthecave.com/" target="_blank">Idols of the Cave</a> (recently added to the blog roll).<br />
<br />
More sooner, rather than later. <br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: x-small;">Image credit: Wikimedia Commons, uploaded by OlofE.</span><br />
<br />
<br />Owlfarmerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15373358232893937182noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1284470785139066414.post-22579189713184558552013-07-15T10:38:00.000-07:002013-07-15T11:21:00.099-07:00Personal Typology<span style="font-size: small;"><i>This is the third in my series of essays for my Coursera adventure in "Archaeology's Dirty Little Secrets." This exercise asked us to classify ourselves based on what we collect in particular places:</i></span><br />
<ol>
<li><span style="font-size: small;"><i>Take your backpack, purse, the contents of a desk drawer, or any other personal assemblage.</i></span></li>
<li><span style="font-size: small;"><i>Dump it all out on a table or other flat surface and think about possible ways to 'organize' this material into types.</i></span></li>
<li><span style="font-size: small;"><i>Arrange the objects in four different ways, employing four different criteria.</i></span></li>
<li><span style="font-size: small;"><i>Describe each criterion you selected and explain why you chose it. Which do you think is most effective and why? What do you think you learned about yourself from this exercise? </i></span></li>
</ol>
<style>
<!--
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<li class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Times;">Take your backpack, purse, the contents of a desk
drawer, or any other personal assemblage.</span></span></li>
<li class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Times;">Dump it all out on a table or other flat surface
(floor, countertop) and think about possible ways to ‘organize’ this
material into types.</span></span></li>
<li class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Times;">Arrange the objects in four different ways, employing
four different criteria. If possible, take pictures of each grouping.</span></span></li>
<li class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Times;">Describe each criterion you selected and explain why
you chose it. Which do you think is most effective and why? What do you
think you learned about yourself from this exercise? </span></span></li>
</ol>
<ol></ol>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEglsQYIgeDpzPOyo3nPh9yQ3h_OKtDu57QEkzLGgzW4cqHkMKC55T_mgG8vwgP73MDRR4zexr0Yiwd1b-v6Qhhpa2GR-DA0OSnSKQ-2KNusoo0ilphT01LoUZnqOEzSCYSwXZe6cKf_T5Q/s1600/IMG_1608.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="239" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEglsQYIgeDpzPOyo3nPh9yQ3h_OKtDu57QEkzLGgzW4cqHkMKC55T_mgG8vwgP73MDRR4zexr0Yiwd1b-v6Qhhpa2GR-DA0OSnSKQ-2KNusoo0ilphT01LoUZnqOEzSCYSwXZe6cKf_T5Q/s320/IMG_1608.JPG" width="320" /></a><br />
<span style="font-size: x-small;">This is the original assemblage, before sorting </span></div>
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: x-large;">I</span>'m a college teacher, so I dumped my bookbag (absent its books, since I'm
on break) on the dining room table, and the contents looked more like those of
a purse. Classifying the contents proved to be a real challenge. In one
way, things had already been classified, because I had four zipper-bags with
separate uses (personal hygiene--lipstick, brush, lotion, etc.; meds--drugs,
medalert tag, antacids, NSAIDs; tools--eraser, pencils, scissors; change). At
first I emptied them and their contents into categories, sorted
by
<b>composition</b>: paper, plastic, mixed metal & other, mixed plastic & other. These were
the broadest ones I could come up with.</span><br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgYfUwLbnz4QuHftcYIMVCSW8NwekWmhhjCGzG-R815STsPlJ02wRiVteIweEA44Sq_YuY1Bos6zGWBlpS08p5SPA_PGWEiewvSgQJEDDEa2_dbpA0mIvRbeb6ZWB3GQ9CtE1i09YpTS5Y/s1600/IMG_1635.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="239" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgYfUwLbnz4QuHftcYIMVCSW8NwekWmhhjCGzG-R815STsPlJ02wRiVteIweEA44Sq_YuY1Bos6zGWBlpS08p5SPA_PGWEiewvSgQJEDDEa2_dbpA0mIvRbeb6ZWB3GQ9CtE1i09YpTS5Y/s320/IMG_1635.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-family: Cambria;">Mostly plastic (<b><span style="font-family: Cambria;">composition</span></b>).</span></span></div>
<span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-family: Cambria;"> </span></span>
<br />
<span style="font-size: small;">After that, it became harder. There were several obvious
possibilities, such as "recreation" (stuff left over from last
Friday's baseball game, including tickets, receipts, etc.; geeky science fiction
stuff like <i>Star Trek</i> communication badges--don't ask; a <i><span style="font-family: Times;">Firefly</span></i>
keychain; a ticket to the latest <i><span style="font-family: Times;">Star Trek</span></i>
movie; a lifetime pass to Science Fiction Land from a Kickstarter project; a
Tardis medallion), "school-related" (note pads, moleskin, pencils, eraser,
scissors, planner, ID lanyard, conference badges, list of stuff to do next
quarter), "personal" (med stuff, makeup). Upon some considerable
reflection, these seem to fall into a general category of <b>use</b>. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: small;">A third category, based on design elements (<b>form</b>) emerged: <i><span style="font-family: Times;">rectangles</span></i>
(most of the paper stuff, most of the zippered pouches, money, some ginger
sweeties; <i><span style="font-family: Times;">cylinders and round things</span></i>
(lotions, lips balm, pill bottles, eraser, pencils, one of the zippered
pouches); <i><span style="font-family: Times;">rectangles with rounded corners</span></i>
(eyeglass case, wallet, mirror, planner, makeup container, paper clip, small
powder bottle, gift card and key-chain perks cards); <i><span style="font-family: Times;">mixed</span></i> (scissors, rectangular/cylindrical
lipstick case, ear buds, brush, medalert tag, <i><span style="font-family: Times;">Star Trek</span></i> badges, car/house keys--attached to keychains that
might fit in other categories. </span><br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<img border="0" height="239" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgCx1ZV9YJBFMQGaoFhjmM9Ie1Z2wYknRpnSymYsS9fS9aBa3lXplLnaQsfjggwWawCMGkdXLTba0FwCOvXkZhvaihh3p_xc9M4bxpwibIhOWUMgescBIo-hZ-c5BFgkPZ68AmXJIGG6es/s320/IMG_1632.JPG" width="320" /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
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<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-size: x-small;"><i><span style="font-size: small;">We had a 750-word limit, which (coincidentally) is about what I average in a blog post.</span></i> </span></div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhcJcECXbU_PKD0EX7jSGH-gXCdK6GR3NjPWdwVWIYhehCW7doBq6LfeSOcCzsIK93wdw4DG7NXKjpUgmiBtQA9ArSCfTWECVKC_LAaLfZvuzq2FvJCIRHGQvhA7YcGKZV299hfvkv9Ja8/s1600/IMG_1608.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="239" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhcJcECXbU_PKD0EX7jSGH-gXCdK6GR3NjPWdwVWIYhehCW7doBq6LfeSOcCzsIK93wdw4DG7NXKjpUgmiBtQA9ArSCfTWECVKC_LAaLfZvuzq2FvJCIRHGQvhA7YcGKZV299hfvkv9Ja8/s320/IMG_1608.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<span style="font-size: x-small;">This is the original assemblage.</span></div>
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<br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: x-large;">I</span>'m a college teacher, so I dumped my bookbag (absent its books, since I'm
on break) on the dining room table, and the contents looked more like those of
a purse. Classifying the contents proved to be a real challenge. In one
way, things had already been classified, because I had four zipper-bags with
separate uses (personal hygiene--lipstick, brush, lotion, etc.; meds--drugs,
medalert tag, antacids, NSAIDs; tools--eraser, pencils, scissors; change). At
first I emptied them and their contents into the following categories, sorted
by <b><span style="font-family: Times;">composition</span></b>:
paper, plastic, mixed metal & other, mixed plastic & other. These were
the broadest ones I could come up with.</span><br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjolL2-ZcwUFTDzZpWoo4Q8XfTK6fiA84SsUlI9Yb_voV8SHcArmJzQtJ2a3-WZESDci-irFjqsZB-I-b5eI3oPaZdT-6akGlNepxsPjfMHLCZgEceg7RjvQo9T5YucerxUjQr8BvxxDA8/s1600/IMG_1635.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="239" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjolL2-ZcwUFTDzZpWoo4Q8XfTK6fiA84SsUlI9Yb_voV8SHcArmJzQtJ2a3-WZESDci-irFjqsZB-I-b5eI3oPaZdT-6akGlNepxsPjfMHLCZgEceg7RjvQo9T5YucerxUjQr8BvxxDA8/s320/IMG_1635.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: x-small;">Mostly plastic (<b>composition</b>)</span></div>
<span style="font-size: small;"> </span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;">
</span><span style="font-size: small;">After that, it became harder. There were several obvious
possibilities, such as "recreation" (stuff left over from last
Friday's baseball game, including tickets, receipts, etc.; geeky science fiction
stuff like <i><span style="font-family: Times;">Star Trek</span></i>
communication badges--don't ask; a <i><span style="font-family: Times;">Firefly</span></i>
keychain; a ticket to the latest <i><span style="font-family: Times;">Star Trek</span></i>
movie; a lifetime pass to Science Fiction Land from a Kickstarter project; a
Tardis medallion), "school-related" (note pads, moleskin, pencils, eraser,
scissors, planner, ID lanyard, conference badges, list of stuff to do next
quarter), "personal" (med stuff, makeup). Upon some considerable
reflection, these seem to fall into a general category of <b><span style="font-family: Times;">use</span></b>.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: small;">
</span><span style="font-size: small;">A third category, based on design elements (<b><span style="font-family: Times;">form</span></b>) emerged: <i><span style="font-family: Times;">rectangles</span></i>
(most of the paper stuff, most of the zippered pouches, money, some ginger
sweeties; <i><span style="font-family: Times;">cylinders and round things</span></i>
(lotions, lips balm, pill bottles, eraser, pencils, one of the zippered
pouches); <i><span style="font-family: Times;">rectangles with rounded corners</span></i>
(eyeglass case, wallet, mirror, planner, makeup container, paper clip, small
powder bottle, gift card and key-chain perks cards); <i><span style="font-family: Times;">mixed</span></i> (scissors, rectangular/cylindrical
lipstick case, ear buds, brush, medalert tag, <i><span style="font-family: Times;">Star Trek</span></i> badges, car/house keys--attached to keychains that
might fit in other categories).</span><br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: small;"> </span><span style="font-size: x-small;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEinB7_d3Yq4Sk992LWBxgA4xZl_kYdyfVcLtx1fIAtI1FlXie64ktcN9x_YeFNxO0FyW7dE1bclauunZ08AafMAiUNkimd2mT8Nk9Yzrue5gFeCMRT2MeuKzgasnDdbFXLXeDU9YCJEvuY/s1600/IMG_1632.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="239" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEinB7_d3Yq4Sk992LWBxgA4xZl_kYdyfVcLtx1fIAtI1FlXie64ktcN9x_YeFNxO0FyW7dE1bclauunZ08AafMAiUNkimd2mT8Nk9Yzrue5gFeCMRT2MeuKzgasnDdbFXLXeDU9YCJEvuY/s320/IMG_1632.JPG" width="320" /></a><br />This is the "rectangle" pile in the <b>form</b> category.</span></div>
<br />
<span style="font-size: small;">A persistent anomaly is a grackle feather. I pick up feathers for no
earthly reason except that I like them, and this one has been in the bag,
apparently, for some time. I can't seem to make it fit in any category except
possibly the last. (It doesn't appear in any of the photos I uploaded.)</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: small;">
</span><span style="font-size: small;">The final, very general, category (which might be considered in terms of <i><span style="font-family: Times;">meaning</span></i>) is <b><span style="font-family: Times;">economy</span></b> (in the true sense of the
word--"rule/law of the home"). This would include the school-use,
hygiene, and meds-related subcategories, but also citizenship-related elements
from the paper pile such as jury summons instructions, a card with directions
to my polling place, a collapsable reusable tote bag (environment), and the conference
badges (academic citizenship), and the receipts, checkbook, and cash bits from
other piles, as well as my wallet and perks cards. It might also include the
recreational elements, including the geeky science fiction stuff and the
baseball stuff because both pretty much rule our home. So do birds and
nature--not much of which are represented outright in the assemblage, except
for the grackle feather.</span><br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEirb9ZFf-Qyo-vpbQ2iyHN37Bw_d5UJFoTtn51RSFxTK2-hRUtd-P-_3R9tH068VEMVUpN-Oz8qKgnjKMGe35aN8q-qm8FwfaTisxqh_NGt7Xm9dT343LrouvY24fpLFR4FawZDVnAIS-w/s1600/IMG_1617.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="239" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEirb9ZFf-Qyo-vpbQ2iyHN37Bw_d5UJFoTtn51RSFxTK2-hRUtd-P-_3R9tH068VEMVUpN-Oz8qKgnjKMGe35aN8q-qm8FwfaTisxqh_NGt7Xm9dT343LrouvY24fpLFR4FawZDVnAIS-w/s320/IMG_1617.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: x-small;">This is the geeky science fiction stuff that fit into a couple of categories (recreation, from <b>use</b>, and also <b>economy</b>)</span></div>
<span style="font-size: small;"> </span><span style="font-size: small;"> </span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;">
It's hard to tell which of these would be most effective in figuring
out who I am or what I do--although the amount of plastic (gasp!) in the
assemblage would be helpful in determining my profession because it would
probably survive for quite some time. It would not, alas, indicate much about
my environmentalism (although one of the pouches is made of recycled plastic,
and another is to keep me from taking home plastic bags).</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: small;">Of possible interest to this exercise is the pervasive instinct to classify that seems to come with certain human activities--such as teaching, or gardening. Over the last week, for example, we spent a significant amount of time clearing out our garden/storage shed. As we moved things outside, it became clear that we were classifying as we went: stuff to recycle, stuff to take to the tip, garden tools, mechanical tools--and, yes, pots. Lots of pots (plastic and ceramic). And even potsherds (which we've been collecting to use to make a mosaic garden bench. I had studied archaeology in my youth, and it seems that you can take the girl out of archaeology, but you can't take the archaeology out of the girl. </span><br />
<br />
<i><span style="font-size: small;">Again, the comments were pretty positive, and students I "graded" in the peer review (not all of whom chose this option) provided interesting insights with their responses--which seem to be getting better. I'm beginning to wonder if the cream is moving to the top as the course goes on. The amount of work involved may not appeal to everyone.</span></i><br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<style>
<span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-family: Cambria;">This is the "rectangle" pile in the <b><span style="font-family: Cambria;">form</span></b>
category.</span></span>
<br />
A persistent anomaly is a grackle feather. I pick up feathers for no
earthly reason except that I like them, and this one has been in the bag,
apparently, for some time. I can't seem to make it fit in any category except
possibly the last. (It doesn't appear in any of the photos I uploaded.)<br />
<br />
The final, very general, category (which might be considered in terms of <i><span style="font-family: Times;">meaning</span></i>) is <b><span style="font-family: Times;">economy</span></b> (in the true sense of the
word--"rule/law of the home"). This would include the school-use,
hygiene, and meds-related subcategories, but also citizenship-related elements
from the paper pile such as jury summons instructions, a card with directions
to my polling place, a collapsable reusable tote bag (environment), and the conference
badges (academic citizenship), and the receipts, checkbook, and cash bits from
other piles, as well as my wallet and perks cards. It might also include the
recreational elements, including the geeky science fiction stuff and the
baseball stuff because both pretty much rule our home. So do birds and
nature--not much of which are represented outright in the assemblage, except
for the grackle feather.<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhrXKNKsn94gXJJ4_nUXsZkbAEpuzSxzlNbyP-Bsnbx3soPeargXLAHsgakdj0GM9GAigEw_9e4vkmeqYQM-BIpEQHt47Y-3aDAtnhENOU_MONErtp3FmEkwPhqKoZJMXmFeZBTeDStuak/s1600/IMG_1617.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="239" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhrXKNKsn94gXJJ4_nUXsZkbAEpuzSxzlNbyP-Bsnbx3soPeargXLAHsgakdj0GM9GAigEw_9e4vkmeqYQM-BIpEQHt47Y-3aDAtnhENOU_MONErtp3FmEkwPhqKoZJMXmFeZBTeDStuak/s320/IMG_1617.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<style>
<br />
<span style="font-size: x-small;">This is the geeky science fiction stuff that fit into a couple of categories
(recreation, from <b><span style="font-family: Times;">use</span></b>
category, and also <b><span style="font-family: Times;">economy</span></b>).</span><br />
<br />
It's hard to tell which of these would be most effective in figuring
out who I am or what I do--although the amount of plastic (gasp!) in the
assemblage would be helpful in determining my profession because it would
probably survive for quite some time. It would not, alas, indicate much about
my environmentalism (although one of the pouches is made of recycled plastic,
and another is to keep me from taking home plastic bags).<br />
<br />
Of possible interest to this exercise is the
pervasive instinct to classify that seems to come with certain human
activities--such as teaching, or gardening. Over the last week, for
example, we spent a significant amount of time clearing out our garden/storage
shed. As we moved things outside, it became clear that we were
classifying as we went: stuff to recycle, stuff to take to the tip, garden
tools, mechanical tools--and, yes, pots. Lots of pots (plastic and
ceramic). And even potsherds (which we've been collecting to use to make a
mosaic garden bench). I had studied archaeology in my youth, and it seems
that you can take the girl out of archaeology, but you can't take the archaeology
out of the girl.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Cambria; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-bidi; mso-fareast-font-family: "MS 明朝"; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-fareast; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;"></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Cambria; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-bidi; mso-fareast-font-family: "MS 明朝"; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-fareast; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;"><i>Again, the comments were pretty positive, and students I "graded" in the peer review (not all of whom chose this option) provided interesting insights with their responses--which seem to be getting better. I'm beginning to wonder if the cream is moving to the top as the course goes on. The amount of work involved may not appeal to everyone.</i><br style="mso-special-character: line-break;" />
<br style="mso-special-character: line-break;" />
</span>
<span style="font-family: Times; font-size: 10.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times; font-size: 10.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"></span><br /></style></div>
Owlfarmerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15373358232893937182noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1284470785139066414.post-51106848815205627522013-06-27T09:27:00.000-07:002013-06-27T09:36:42.944-07:00What Survives<i>Note: if you'd like to comment on this series of posts, please do so below--rather than in the course's peer review. My criteria for illustrating the essays for the course are different than for this blog.</i><br />
<br />
The assignment: select TWO artifacts that are composed of different types of material,
both organic and inorganic. These can come from your home, from a book,
from online, from a museum—you don’t necessarily need to be able to touch
them. Then:<br />
<ol>
<li>Describe the artifacts. If possible, take a picture and upload it with
your assignment.</li>
<li>Imagine these artifacts were buried in three different places: a) Egypt,
b) where you live, and c) anywhere else on earth you choose.</li>
<li>Describe the general environmental and climatic conditions, and the possible
specific matrices in which they would be found.</li>
<li>Assess what you think would survive from these artifacts and what would
disappear in those three different environments after 100 years.</li>
<li>Compare the two artifacts for durability.<br /><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiPzggKct-Swb2vX4kmZWbmMQbN1dnyt36w3fs41lDP17AhE0eSSAYrk99crI7jTLqn93eIOe3hS4cZBUfAg-bPwDxDP5eYY4sqiQr518FRGuUG1IYPTkbrrsWWAYigSQSzHKm38wKq26I/s1600/Trowel.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="239" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiPzggKct-Swb2vX4kmZWbmMQbN1dnyt36w3fs41lDP17AhE0eSSAYrk99crI7jTLqn93eIOe3hS4cZBUfAg-bPwDxDP5eYY4sqiQr518FRGuUG1IYPTkbrrsWWAYigSQSzHKm38wKq26I/s320/Trowel.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
</li>
</ol>
<span style="font-size: x-large;">I </span>chose two related artifacts, not unlikely to be found together, and
that might prove interesting to a budding archaeologist. I thought of
using these because although it has been more than thirty years since I
spent any time in the field, my Marshalltown masonry trowel is still in
use--as my favorite gardening tool. Back then we had to buy a regular
mason's trowel and have it sharpened, and no holster was available.
Modern-day archaeologists have more options.<br />
<br />
<a href="http://www.marshalltown.com/products.aspx?D=900" target="_blank">Marshalltown</a> now makes pointed trowels especially for archaeological
use (in two styles, "London" and "Philadelphia") and a belt-holster to
keep one handy. Because each is made of a combination of organic and inorganic
materials, I thought they would make appropriate artifacts for this
exercise.<br />
<br />
The trowel is made of high carbon steel and hardwood. The wooden
handle is probably attached to the metal with acrylic carpenter's glue.
The holster is stitched leather, with unspecified metal rivets and a
"long-wearing protective insert" which looks to be some kind of heavy
plastic. The organic wood and leather, and possibly the stitching,
coupled with the inorganic metal bits would react differently to
different conditions. The context I'm applying to all of the conditions
described below is a dig--one logical place for these objects to be
found--but the environmental conditions of the imaginary digs differ.<br />
<br />
If found in Egypt, say at <a href="http://proteus.brown.edu/abydos/Home" target="_blank">Abydos</a>, it's likely that the metal parts of
each would survive quite well, as would the leather, plastic, and the
stitching around the holster. The wooden handle, however, could succumb
to the termite problem mentioned in the "What Survives" video. The
desert conditions would probably make the leather holster less supple,
but it shouldn't decay significantly. If an archaeologist had left the
trowel and holster behind in Abydos, the termites would probably
obliterate the handle while leaving the metal bits relatively
unaffected. If the "protective insert" is made of plastic, that might
become brittle and perhaps crack, but not disintegrate. Does plastic
ever truly disintegrate?<br />
<br />
If the trowel and holster were found at a dig in the <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Geology_of_the_Dallas%E2%80%93Fort_Worth_Metroplex" target="_blank">Dallas area of north Texas</a>, where I live, the environment is less stable, subject to
extremes of drought and precipitation, tornadic activity, and floods.
The soil is typically dense clay, covering caliche (hardened calcium
carbonate; Texas spent a significant part of its natural history under
water). When it rains heavily, the soil gets saturated and dries slowly,
but then hardens and cracks. These processes over time would probably
drive the objects deeper into the soil than where they were deposited,
and cause deterioration in the organic materials and rusting of the
metal bits. My house is ninety years old, and periodically the garden
produces bits of glass and metal, but never any organic materials.<br />
<br />
The third environment I'd like to place my trowel and holster in is
the <a href="http://www.ovcweb.org/owensvalley/geology.html" target="_blank">Owens River Valley in California</a>, where I was born. It lies in the
high desert between the Sierras and the Inyos, and most of the surface
soil is decomposed granite overlying volcanic materials. It is quite
dry, and if the objects were to be found near the surface, the
conditions might resemble those at Abydos. However, the area also lies
above several fault lines, and the lower part of the valley consists of a
large fault block which could disrupt the matrix significantly were a
major earthquake to occur. While it's unlikely that such an event would
break the trowel, it might separate the handle from the metal--and it
might move the artifacts lower into the more moisture laden substrate.
An earthquake might also alter the course of the river and disrupt the
Los Angeles aqueduct, adding much more water to the context than now
exists.<br />
<br />
Both of these artifacts are potentially quite durable. My own trowel,
thirty years later, is a bit rusty, but the handle is still attached
and the only apparent damage is to the tip, which has been broken off
(at a dig in New Jersey) and worn smooth. If I wanted to use it
seriously, I'd have to have it resharpened. The holster's durability
would be the most in question, and depend more on environmental
conditions than anything but the wooden handle of the trowel.<br />
<br />
<i>Further note: this essay drew positive comments, including one from another lapsed archaeologist who also uses his/her trowel for gardening. The photo was taken this morning with my iPhone--after I'd been doing a typological exercise (sorting through twelve years of detritus in the shed). I went out to look for the trowel, got involved in clearing out the shed and garage so we can convert the latter into a studio, and didn't find the trowel until five hours later, when I was too hot and tired to do any more excavating.</i>Owlfarmerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15373358232893937182noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1284470785139066414.post-50502679839347800782013-06-06T10:40:00.000-07:002013-09-21T10:06:23.328-07:00Exploiting Archaeology<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/6/6b/The_Mummy_1932_film_poster.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/6/6b/The_Mummy_1932_film_poster.jpg" width="208" /></a></div>
<br />
<span style="font-size: x-large;">F</span>or the next eight weeks, I'm participating in my first MOOC (Massive Open Online Course) through <a href="https://www.coursera.org/" target="_blank">Coursera</a>. It's called "Archaeology's Dirty Little Secrets," and taught by Brown University archaeologist Sue Alcock. The first week's material and assignments have done more to stimulate my little grey cells than almost anything I've done in the last year. So: I've decided to post any writing assignments for the course here and (when appropriate) on <a href="http://owlofathena.blogspot.com/" target="_blank">The Owl of Athena</a>--not just because I don't have much time to write these days, but because the fist assignment, at least, seems to fit right into the scope of the Cabinet; it's also about education, at least obliquely, so The Owl seems like another suitable venue.<br />
<br />
Of the three available exercise topics for this week, I chose one called "Archaeological Expressions," which asks students to "Find one form of artistic expression (poetry, film, literature, trash fiction, music) that draws on archaeology and archaeological uses of the past" and write a reaction piece; Indiana Jones is proscribed, and I don't blame the course team for forcing us to think of something else. I chose the original version of <i>The Mummy</i>, and here's my response:<br />
<br />
The discovery and excavation of Tutankhamen’s tomb in the early 1920s, helped create a wave of Egyptomania in the United States and Britain. It probably acted as the midwife to the horror film genre as well, with all the media hype about curses, and the first <i>Mummy</i> movie, now a classic, was produced in 1932. I use this film to open a discussion on popular perceptions of archaeology in my Intro to Humanities classes, and compare it to other films, such as <i>Raiders of the Lost Ark</i>, <i>Stargate</i>, and <i>Tomb Raider</i>. Film clips and a trailer are available on the <a href="http://www.tcm.com/tcmdb/title/84111/The-Mummy/" target="_blank">Turner Classic Movies</a> page, and a <a href="http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0023245/" target="_blank">special edition DVD</a> is available for anyone who’s never seen the film.<br />
<br />
In the first segment of The Mummy, starring Boris Karloff in the title role, a brash young archaeologist, Norton, expresses impatience with Sir Joseph Whempel’s insistence on strict archaeological method (dealing with each find in the order in which it was uncovered, etc.), noting that the only item that would earn the expedition any “medals from the British Museum” would be “that fellow over there.” Leaning against the wall is a casket, containing a rather robust linen-wrapped mummy. There’s also a small chest, inscribed with a hieroglyphic message.<br />
<br />
A sign over the tent reads, “British Museum Expedition 1921.” Members of the team include not only Sir Joseph, a renowned archaeologist, and his assistant, Norton (a newly-minted Ph.D.?), who can decipher hieroglyphic text, but also Professor Muller, an “expert in the occult sciences.” Muller himself interprets the inscription on the chest as a curse on anyone who opens it, and thinks it contains the “Scroll of Thoth, which can bring the dead back to life.” He proposes that they rebury both the sarcophagus and the chest, refusing to participate in “sacrilege.”<br />
<br />
When Whempel and Muller (who discovers that the mummy has not been embalmed in the traditional manner, and that there are signs indicating a live burial) leave the room to discuss what to do next, Norton is left alone to piece together fragments of inscribed stone. But the young punk can’t resist the temptation, and withdraws the scroll—reading it aloud as he translates it. In a long, brilliant shot, the camera focuses on the mummy’s face, catching the gleam of an opening eye and the slow recovery of movement in its arms. Norton watches, incredulous, as the mummy awakens, takes the scroll, and leaves. The scene ends as an hysterical Norton announces that the mummy “went for a little walk.” We later find out that he has died mad.<br />
<br />
The film is well worth watching, especially for those who were under-impressed by the most recent remakes. The clips available on the Turner Classic Movies web page include several telling moments that illustrate many of the presumptions Sue Alcock outlines in her first lecture: All real archaeologists want to find “goodies,” have to be lucky, and are white, male, and macho.<br />
<br />
In later films like <i>Raiders of the Lost Ark</i> and its sequels, and <i>Stargate</i>, the archaeologist characters combine different aspects of those from <i>The Mummy</i>: brash, greedy daredevils or iconoclastic scholars. The earliest female version of this character I can think of (besides Marion Ravenwood) is <a href="http://www.imdb.com/name/nm0381763/" target="_blank">Vash</a>, who appeared in a couple of <i>Star Trek</i> franchise episodes. <br />
<br />
Despite the stereotyping of archaeologists as tomb-plundering adventurers, it’s the archaeologist-as-occult-scientist aspect that’s done the most damage, I think. Even as women like Lara Croft come into the picture, the emphasis of their explorations seems to focus on mysterious, supernatural forces as generators of all those important artifacts.<br />
<br />
What these pop-culture, somewhat iconic figures do is to perpetuate the “our ancestors were dummies” perception which produces the consummately unscientific view that <i>the aliens must have done it</i>.<br />
<br />
The unfortunate result of all this is that the movie-archaeologists engage in pseudoscience and suck in gullible youngsters already starved of solid science education. Using these films to expose the myths and set the record straight may be a sleazy way of attracting attention, but if, like <i>The Mummy</i>, it provides a platform for discussion, perhaps the enjoyment we get from watching them is something of a reward for our diligence in promoting a healthier view of history. <br />
<br />
I’d highly recommend <i>The Mummy</i> to anyone who teaches introductory archaeology, or who explores the impact of film on culture. The first twenty minutes exposes a number of popular misconceptions, and offers a starting point for a more accurate exploration of archaeological method.<br />
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<span style="font-size: x-small;">Image credit: The theatrical poster for <i>The Mummy</i>, via Wikipedia's article on the film. </span>Owlfarmerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15373358232893937182noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1284470785139066414.post-29813133922630014722013-05-19T08:58:00.001-07:002013-05-19T17:16:35.418-07:00Glass, Art, and Science<br />
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<a href="http://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/f/fb/Blaschka-Bougainvillea_sp.-Mus%C3%A9e_zoologique_de_Strasbourg.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/f/fb/Blaschka-Bougainvillea_sp.-Mus%C3%A9e_zoologique_de_Strasbourg.jpg" width="284" /></a></div>
<span style="font-size: x-large;">I </span>guess posting once a year or so is better than not posting at all, but probably not much. It's not that I don't ever think about Cabinet-appropriate things; in fact, stuff falls into my radar range fairly frequently, but I use the "I'm too busy" card, probably way too often.<br />
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Sometimes, though, something irresistible appears and lights a fire under my backside, as this video and article from the New York Times did this week: <a href="http://www.nytimes.com/2013/05/07/science/blaschka-glass-menagerie-inspires-marine-expedition.html" target="_blank">In Pursuit of an Underwater Menagerie</a>. It's about a new exhibit featuring glass models of marine creatures created by Leopold and Rudolf Blaschka, and the curator's effort to locate living examples.<br />
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The nineteenth-century father-and-son team from Germany found the perfect way to produce models of transparent and translucent creatures. Traditional means (watercolor drawings, primarily, but also wax and other sculptural materials) lost some of the delicacy of sea creatures, but Leopold's "glass-spinning" technique (vulgarized in many a seaside tourist gift shop) allowed the Blaschkas to produce amazingly lifelike replicas.<br />
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The sheer (and the pun is intended), alien beauty of these creatures and their glass counterparts is nowhere more apparent than in the Times interactive feature, <a href="http://www.nytimes.com/interactive/2013/05/07/science/glass-ocean.html?ref=science" target="_blank">Glass Mirrors Life in the Seas</a>.<br />
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Cornell University's Albert R. Mann Library houses the <a href="http://blaschkagallery.mannlib.cornell.edu/visit.php" target="_blank">Cornell Collection of Blaschka Invertebrate Models</a>, and its Gallery includes 34 pages of photographs (there's also a slideshow linked on the Gallery page). The <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Leopold_and_Rudolf_Blaschka" target="_blank">Wikipedia article on the Blaschkas</a> is also helpful (and includes a few photos), if you've never heard of the pair before.<br />
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For more photos (differently mounted), see London's <a href="http://piclib.nhm.ac.uk/results.asp?search=40&searchtxtkeys=Blaschka" target="_blank">Natural History Museum</a> page, and the <a href="http://www.museumwales.ac.uk/en/rhagor/galleries/blaschka/" target="_blank">National Museum of Wales</a>.<br />
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The Blaschkas might actually be better known for their plant models, in the Ware Collection of <a href="http://www.huh.harvard.edu/libraries/glass.htm" target="_blank">Blaschka Glass Models of Plants at Harvard</a>. For a nice history of the botanical models, see the Corning Museum of Glass video, <a href="http://youtu.be/rHOx5H5vNx4" target="_blank">The Story of Rudolf and Leopold Blaschka</a>:<br />
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<iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="315" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/rHOx5H5vNx4" width="420"></iframe>
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One wonders how much more interest children would show in the natural world if they were to be introduced to plants and animals through a combination of first-hand experience (when possible) and beautifully rendered visual works that capture the essence of the life-form. I can only hope that the new <a href="http://www.perotmuseum.org/" target="_blank">Perot science museum</a> in Dallas will try to mount an exhibit of the Blaschkas' work, and perhaps generate an interest in the relationship between art and science embodied by their glass models.<br />
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<span style="font-size: x-small;">Image credit: Bougainvillea species, from the Zoological Museum of Strasbourg, photo by Ji-Elle via Wikimedia Commons.</span>Owlfarmerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15373358232893937182noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1284470785139066414.post-87617139615180518272012-02-07T09:47:00.000-08:002012-02-07T09:57:06.735-08:00Happy Bicentennial, Mr. Dickens<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhWdssvmIyrIU8ApXy-Q-oG5s1Z7FjcB42mk5Xq2xn2ZKfeX4_T_SvayO4Yf-CZvDfOUSx082cc9AAOS4r2eWE9W7lk6t_6PS2I7hd7Q6LBEF-BRPM6ov1mDYh1rnH9VVxfncZwREU6wGM/s1600/mw09135.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 321px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhWdssvmIyrIU8ApXy-Q-oG5s1Z7FjcB42mk5Xq2xn2ZKfeX4_T_SvayO4Yf-CZvDfOUSx082cc9AAOS4r2eWE9W7lk6t_6PS2I7hd7Q6LBEF-BRPM6ov1mDYh1rnH9VVxfncZwREU6wGM/s400/mw09135.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5706444850377629954" border="0" /></a><span style="font-size:180%;">T</span>his is quite the year for anniversaries, so I thought I'd start acknowledging them both on the Farm (when appropriate) and on the Cabinet--beginning with Charles Dickens's 200th birthday. Dickens worked and wrote tirelessly about the appalling social conditions in nineteenth-century England, and many of the causes he championed were the same ones William Morris embraced.<br /><br />If I needed any prompting to remember the date, Google's Doodle for today provides a cute reminder, along with a linked Google search on Dickens (coming up with the Wikipedia article first, of course, followed by Google Books editions of his works; you can get a better list using "Charles Dickens"). But since I try to encourage inquiry beyond the obvious, I thought I'd link a few choice bits here for anyone inclined to celebrate.<br /><br />During my otherwise largely misspent youth, I binged for some time on nineteenth-century English novels, especially those of Thomas Hardy, George Eliot, and Dickens. My interest paid off, because when a grad student in the English department at Penn needed someone to type his dissertation on Dickens's serial techniques, I got the gig, and gave him a deal: 50 cents a page. I loved doing it, and took away a much deeper understanding of the man and his work.<br /><br />The Dickens oeuvre is massive (online versions of his works abound, but go to <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/browse/authors/d">Project Gutenberg</a> for a list that includes audiobooks (the link is to the "D" page; scroll down). Folks like me, who prefer hard copy, can find numerous editions at Half Price Books, and occasionally snag nice old copies with pretty covers, like my People's Editions from 1883. Marks inside the covers show I spent between 50 cents and a dollar for each. I bought a good acid-free copy of <span style="font-style: italic;">Our Mutual Friend</span> in London, and should probably begin again to remedy lapses in my library.<br /><br />This week's news outlets are packed with stories, and many tout his social views: against slavery, supportive of "fallen women," and especially his identification with the poor and downtrodden: <span style="font-style: italic;">The Guardian</span> (on literacy), <span style="font-style: italic;">The Christian Science Monitor</span> (on the 19th century 99%), but not, alas, the <span style="font-style: italic;">Daily Poop</span>, which has noted only what others are doing. My favorite bit is from The Guardian: <a href="http://www.guardian.co.uk/books/2012/feb/07/charles-dickens-200-birthday-quiz?newsfeed=true">A Fiendishly Difficult Birthday Quiz</a>, for the true aficionados. And no, I haven't taken it, nor would I do all that well if I did, having not read the man's work for forty years. But that copy of <span style="font-style: italic;">Our Mutual Friend</span> I bought in 1971 is next on my list of bedtime reading.<br /><br />Some of the absolute best sources on Dickens can be found on the web. My favorite is the official <a href="http://www.dickensmuseum.com/">Dickens Museum</a> site, and the <a href="http://www.charlesdickensbirthplace.co.uk/">Dickens Birthplace Museum</a> in Portsmouth (a late, dear friend of mine was also born in Portsmouth, and loved this museum). <a href="http://www.blogger.com/%22http://www.themorgan.org/exhibitions/exhibition.asp?id=48%22">The Morgan Library</a><a href="http://www.blogger.com/%22http://www.themorgan.org/exhibitions/exhibition.asp?id=48%22"> and Museum</a>'s online exhibit, <span style="font-style: italic;">Charles Dickens at 200</span>, is spectacular. If you're in New York, you can visit it yourself--although it closes February 12.<br /><br /><a href="http://www.imdb.com/name/nm0002042/">Huge numbers of films</a> have been made of the books, most of which I have refused to see because Dickens's plots and characters are far too complex for Hollywood not to mangle. The 1946 David Lean version of <a href="http://www.criterion.com/films/566-great-expectations"><span style="font-style: italic;">Great Expectations</span></a> is the only exception I can think of (mainly because I saw it when I was young and, as yet, untutored in things Dickensian; the link is to the Criterion Collection edition, which is beautiful)--although my husband swears by the 1977 serial television production of <a style="font-style: italic;" href="http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0077055/">Nicholas Nickleby</a>. Perhaps on some dark and stormy night I'll relent and start collecting selected DVDs.<br /><br />There was also a PBS biographical series on Dickens back in 2003. It's probably time to see if that's available, since his own life story is every bit as interesting as his fiction. Speaking of biographies, there's a relatively new one out by Michael Slater (2009), <span style="font-style: italic;">Charles Dickens: A Life Defined By Writing</span> (Yale UP, 2009), which I haven't read but intend to get. Last November, David Gates reviewed <a href="http://www.nytimes.com/2011/11/06/books/review/charles-dickens-biographies-review.html?pagewanted=all">two more in The New York Times</a> (by Claire Tomalin and Robert Douglas-Fairhurst).<br /><br />There are a number of good Dickens portraits available online (my favorite is the George Herbert Watkins photo that opens this post), in many media. A quick image search can locate dozens. But because Dickens was such an outspoken figure, he was frequently lampooned. The best of the caricatures is probably this one, by <a style="font-family: georgia;" href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Andr%C3%A9_Gill" title="André Gill">André Gill</a> ("Dickens crosses the English Channel, carrying books from London to Paris" from the cover of the French newspaper, <i><a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/L%27%C3%89clipse">L'Eclipse</a>.</i> Gill was a prolific caricaturist, and many public figures relished being portrayed by him.<br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhWlCoi_ghleDElR7AXiz-I9vk9CLgoNsQ-aCYI_5TwLn3eCrmGSDGmKRpdyEgxUBckg61LLTVlrcroDqL6_VwDdsajkXuv6ZxlTvZAFke_iC8RNnGQvmFcXw_G35LOJsEQUI-xZ0ftZIM/s1600/392px-Gill-Dickens.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 261px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhWlCoi_ghleDElR7AXiz-I9vk9CLgoNsQ-aCYI_5TwLn3eCrmGSDGmKRpdyEgxUBckg61LLTVlrcroDqL6_VwDdsajkXuv6ZxlTvZAFke_iC8RNnGQvmFcXw_G35LOJsEQUI-xZ0ftZIM/s400/392px-Gill-Dickens.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5706448294445904514" border="0" /></a>Not far from where I lived in Philadelphia, in one of the vest-pocket parks the city has sprinkled all over the urban environment, is this statue of Dickens and Little Nell, the heroine of The Old Curiosity Shop. I remember a lit prof once telling the class that ships passing one another while crossing the Atlantic as the book was appearing in serial form would call to one another, "Does Little Nell still live?" My, how things have changed.<br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi4fdz_2j94bZBHeWJG3vzX-yO9ENzFr7iczoGO8zKluZ1FfFwpU_6ggSmShyphenhyphenyntz1kXLWVe6qb7CSp61nzHqlRAUwPORNg24sEXbr5N-1fRd9QSybPujphbOAHsiJ8Tdbucl0mHusMMpk/s1600/Dickens_Statue.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 267px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi4fdz_2j94bZBHeWJG3vzX-yO9ENzFr7iczoGO8zKluZ1FfFwpU_6ggSmShyphenhyphenyntz1kXLWVe6qb7CSp61nzHqlRAUwPORNg24sEXbr5N-1fRd9QSybPujphbOAHsiJ8Tdbucl0mHusMMpk/s400/Dickens_Statue.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5706445319772577506" border="0" /></a>I'll have to think of an <a href="http://www.victorianweb.org/authors/dickens/pva/drink.html">appropriately Dickensian brew</a> for the Beloved Spouse this evening, and raise a glass to a superb novelist with an admirable social conscience. He ought to be assigned reading for people running for political office.<br /><br /><span style="font-size:85%;">Image credits: <a href="http://www.npg.org.uk/collections/search/largerimage.php?sText=charles+dickens&submitSearchTerm.x=0&submitSearchTerm.y=0&page=1&search=ss&OConly=true&firstRun=true&role=sit&LinkID=mp01294&rNo=5">Photograph of Charles Dickens</a> by George Herbert Watkins; albumen print, 1858. (National Portrait Gallery; also available on Wikipedia and Wikimedia Commons. The photo of Clark Park's <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/File:Dickens_Statue.png">Dickens and Little Nell</a> statue is by Bruce Anderson, via Wikimedia Commons. The <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/File:Gill-Dickens.jpg">Gill cartoon</a> is from the Wikipedia Article on L'Eclipse.</span>Owlfarmerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15373358232893937182noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1284470785139066414.post-72497086720853281072011-08-07T08:39:00.000-07:002011-08-07T09:37:23.401-07:00News, Newsreels, and Uncle News<span style="font-size:180%;">F</span>or no particular reason, other than the fact that I'd been going through old photographs yesterday, it occurred to me to do a bit of research on an old family friend, Newsreel Wong.<br /><br />Wong made a name for himself in the late '30s for a photograph he took (and possibly staged to some extent) of a <a href="http://forum.axishistory.com/viewtopic.php?f=101&t=152408">baby on a Shanghai train platform</a>.<br /><br />What I didn't know was that he had been in New York City on July 28, 1945, when a disoriented pilot flew his Boeing B-25 Mitchell Bomber into the Empire State Building. Visiting the Hearst Metrotone offices early that morning, Newsreel Wong had been the only one in an office when the phone rang, and he answered it. He ended up commandeering a camera and headed to the site, where he was able not only to shoot the exterior of the building but got in to get film of the offices that were affected. The only other person who managed to gain access was Max Markman, who posed as a doctor, and shot the footage of the event included in this British Pathé newsreel.<br /><br /><object height="260" width="427"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/ZD69sP51u-s&hl=en_US&feature=player_embedded&version=3"><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"><param name="allowScriptAccess" value="always"><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/ZD69sP51u-s&hl=en_US&feature=player_embedded&version=3" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowfullscreen="true" allowscriptaccess="always" height="260" width="427"></embed></object><br /><br />A less dramatic version of the coverage can also be found on <a href="http://youtu.be/MzCygjiLMfw">YouTube</a>, but I thought this highly edited bit was interesting for its embellishments. Since I'll be teaching the Visual Anthropology course in the Fall, this could provide some talking points about the role of the observer in the interpretation of events, and the impact editing has on the reception of information.<br /><br />I don't know what happened to Wong's footage (although I suspect that if it exists it's accessible through <a href="http://old.cinema.ucla.edu/collections/Profiles/hearst.html">UCLA's archives</a>), but locating this particular event during an innocent search for a character from my past (he was known to my brother and me as "Uncle News" and lived near us on Yang Ming Shan outside of Taipei) amounts to a bit of the kind of synchronicity we've been talking about in the Myth class. As the tenth anniversary of 9/11 nears, this incident resonates eerily with more recent events.<br /><br />One of the best blogs about media history I've ever found on the web is Amanda Emily's <a href="http://www.feedingthebeast.info/">Feeding the News Beast: A Century of Tales from Behind the Lens</a>. Her <a href="http://www.feedingthebeast.info/2011/03/empire-state-crash/">post on this event</a> is the source of much of my information, and <a href="http://www.feedingthebeast.info/2011/03/newsreel-wong/">one on Wong himself</a> explains how he got his nickname. Digital Video and Photography students ought to bookmark her site, because it's an endlessly informative record of visual news coverage.<br /><br /><span style="font-size:85%;">Note: I'm posting this entry on both the Cabinet and The Owls' Parliament, due to its potential interest for a variety of audiences.</span>Owlfarmerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15373358232893937182noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1284470785139066414.post-17851896277545899412011-07-01T07:15:00.000-07:002011-07-01T08:03:14.767-07:00The Green Life<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-GvSwUCpYK1bQScV_U-Vf_5qyt8b8AffA2fU__6EsGCk7XHwMovHmzjsW8JtGkUtRiR2RgnMc-0TZLyElrMwOCk5QTP0ADEgJLqXAFLpbx9oSLzsSXld35Oq9d3ztzsoRwsZwoQ4l9Gc/s1600/VitaViridis.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 294px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-GvSwUCpYK1bQScV_U-Vf_5qyt8b8AffA2fU__6EsGCk7XHwMovHmzjsW8JtGkUtRiR2RgnMc-0TZLyElrMwOCk5QTP0ADEgJLqXAFLpbx9oSLzsSXld35Oq9d3ztzsoRwsZwoQ4l9Gc/s400/VitaViridis.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5624387702600784130" border="0" /></a><span style="font-size:180%;">E</span>very now and then, out of vanity, curiosity, or fear (I'm not sure which), I Google myself to find out if anyone is using my name in vain.<br /><br />Usually what comes up are posts from the Farm or here--as well as the ubiquitous "rate your professor" sites (my hotness factor is, alas, still zero). Once in a while, however, somebody will quote me and refer to one of the posts. I'm usually happy for the exposure, and occasionally join the conversation. It's rare, however, that I happen upon something truly wonderful.<br /><br />I pinched the above image from an internal visual journal, Vita Viridis (Green Life), published by some clearly like-minded folk who work at one or more of the <a href="http://www.huh.harvard.edu/">Harvard University Herbaria</a>. There are only a few available online--<a href="http://www.huh.harvard.edu/vita1-5.pdf">volume 1 number 5</a> (from whence I obtained the page that includes a letter I wrote to the editors of <a href="http://www.orionmagazine.org/">Orion magazine</a> some time ago), <a href="http://www.huh.harvard.edu/Vita1-2_sm.pdf">volume 1 issue 2</a>, and <a href="http://www.huh.harvard.edu/Vita1-3_sm.pdf">issue 3</a>, in living color and .pdf format so they can be enjoyed in all their visual splendor.<br /><br />I love this idea so much that I'm going to try something similar with my myth class this spring--a sort of in-class journal of stuff they write and create (the great thing about teaching in an art school is that you can actually ask students to do this and they will), and things they find that they think apply in one way or another. It'll be a one-off venture, but we can scan and share among ourselves--and perhaps with readers of the Cabinet.<br /><br />Anyway, the real treasure here is not the "me" part, but the discovery of the Herbaria pages themselves. As an inveterate plant lover, erstwhile amateur naturalist (who can still identify every one of the eighteen "official" trees on her half acre, as well as all the volunteers that now occupy various corners of the Carbon Sink), Old China Hand, and certified museum junkie, this site offers nearly everything.<br /><br />For example, check out the <a href="http://www.huh.harvard.edu/collections/digital_coll.html">Digital Collections</a> of such wonders as the SHIP initiative (images of seeds in the collection of the Arnold Arboretum) and links to the expedition collections of Joseph F. C. Rock, who explored the "Hengduan Mountains Hotspot" in western Sichuan and eastern Xizang (Tibet), China. I especially love the Arnold Arboretum <a href="http://arboretum.harvard.edu/library/image-collection/">Image Collection</a>, which contains historical photos taken in the "Hotspot" region during the early twentieth century.<br /><br />The website offers a mere glimpse into the richness of Harvard's collections, but since I didn't have any idea of their extent (and only vaguely knew of the herbaria at all), this amounts to a truly serendipitous find.Owlfarmerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15373358232893937182noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1284470785139066414.post-25152156502003173132011-06-11T06:33:00.000-07:002011-07-01T09:48:24.187-07:00Good Stuff<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjLpqJCRQve_buADXyMwO02-JZoTSgVSYhrDfdm73UbrzzBaC2FXg0aRX7IGawybAnq0FJN2GZcxG8jbU9MTLyB-Y-Ndylw8Z0MejczeGcRJN79SFOw3LSVYiqE2u3L2sJTdYDJrAOXzXo/s1600/FlyingSaucer.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 268px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjLpqJCRQve_buADXyMwO02-JZoTSgVSYhrDfdm73UbrzzBaC2FXg0aRX7IGawybAnq0FJN2GZcxG8jbU9MTLyB-Y-Ndylw8Z0MejczeGcRJN79SFOw3LSVYiqE2u3L2sJTdYDJrAOXzXo/s400/FlyingSaucer.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5616978315622876722" border="0" /></a><span style="font-size:180%;">T</span>his spin-off from the Farm has been sadly neglected, in part because it takes so much effort for my aging brain to curate the ephemeral events and objects I run across. Other blog-<span style="font-style: italic;">wunderkammern </span>(like those on the blog roll) are much better about this than I am, and continue to inspire me, but my writing-energy is almost wholly devoted the mother blog, at least until I can get myself better organized. Nevertheless, I occasionally run across things that group themselves into curatorial categories--even as nebulous as "good stuff"--so I'll keep posting them as they collect.<br /><br />My ambivalence about technology, frequently commented upon on the Farm, doesn't usually come into play here. But I do appreciate some of the mod cons that make it possible to enjoy the cultural benefits of living in a place like New York, even though I'm unlikely to get there any time soon.<br /><br />In my weekly newsletter from the Metropolitan Museum of Art, I was reminded of the new(ish) Cloisters blog, <a href="http://blog.metmuseum.org/cloistersgardens/">The Medieval Garden Enclosed</a>, about which I posted back when it started up back in <a href="http://owlscabinet.blogspot.com/2008/07/blog-bulletin.html">2008</a>. Like many of my favorite web places, it slips my mind frequently, but it's such a welcome and informative place to spend time that I thought I'd bring it up again. The blog itself is full of useful information on Medieval life in general, and plants in particular. The photographs are also lovely, offering a virtual visit to the Cloisters that <span style="font-style: italic;">almost</span> makes up for not being there.<br /><br />Anyone with an iPhone might be interested in two terrific apps. The new promotional freebie related to the J. J. Abrams film, <a href="http://www.super8-movie.com/">Super 8</a>, is almost more fun than you can have legally. I got it for my iPhone 4--newly acquired when the old Silverback version just got too clunky for my digital needs--but apparently also works with a 3GS and iPad2. In essence, the designers have given us <a href="http://itunes.apple.com/us/app/super-8/id435739918?mt=8">our own miniature Super 8 camera</a> from which we can shoot grainy movies that work like a time machine to take geezers like me back to "the day" when home movies were made like this. Similar, though not as sophisticated, apps are widely available for still photography as well, such as <a href="http://itunes.apple.com/us/app/old-photo-pro/id400680685?mt=8">Old Photo Pro</a> (free), which allows you to convert your iPhone photos into Daguerreotypes, cyanotypes, infrared images, and the like.<br /><br />The second bit of technological wizardry I've come to admire is the New York Public Library's new app for the iPad, <a href="http://itunes.apple.com/us/app/nypl-biblion-worlds-fair/id433418206?mt=8">Biblion</a>, an interactive multimedia tour of the <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/1939_New_York_World%27s_Fair">1939 Worlds Fair</a>. I find this especially cool because this particular fair introduced all manner of forward-thinking ideas (not all of which transpired), including a decidedly Art Deco view of art and design. "The World of Tomorrow" was the source of many a science-fiction fan's dreams of the future: robots, cars (not flying ones, though), and utopia. There are quite a few shots from the Fair featured in Robert Hughes's episode "<a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=mX6zAs3Lmh4">Streamlines and Breadlines</a>" from his rather epic treatment of the history of American art, <a href="http://www.amazon.com/American-Visions-Epic-History-America/dp/0679426272">American Visions</a>.<br /><br />The Beloved Spouse has just begun to grind up wood-droppings into mulch for the garden, so I'd better go help. Our own garden should benefit immeasurably from this effort, and will perhaps spark another post before too long.<br /><br /><span style="font-size:85%;">Image notes: I couldn't resist a doctored "flying saucer" sighting constructed in PhotoShop Elements, which came with my new scanner. I may alter it even more when I have some time, to make it look more like something I could get from Old Photo Pro.</span>Owlfarmerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15373358232893937182noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1284470785139066414.post-18376472055332558262011-03-04T07:50:00.000-08:002011-03-04T08:56:51.298-08:00Early Spring Miscellany<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhKUMAxFyZm4WQ-Pg-UimpJ0TpMpzrxeHYVreDT4QXugIv0eUyZyGbsyV7ea2cNV4ZAuCpnd9d0GgeFEc9NXEfjRwm91KbXoOUtqnyHD9pkJDdsFgjzExY58omLiX-Hvc5AqxetZZjN958/s1600/LibraryAlienCloud.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhKUMAxFyZm4WQ-Pg-UimpJ0TpMpzrxeHYVreDT4QXugIv0eUyZyGbsyV7ea2cNV4ZAuCpnd9d0GgeFEc9NXEfjRwm91KbXoOUtqnyHD9pkJDdsFgjzExY58omLiX-Hvc5AqxetZZjN958/s400/LibraryAlienCloud.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5580255902258425554" border="0" /></a><span style="font-size:180%;">I</span>t seemed prudent to abandon the <a href="http://owlfarmer.blogspot.com/">Farm</a> this week, because I've got too much to stew about and not enough time to think it out on "paper." So this week's Skywatch contribution comes from Owl's Cabinet, still (on occasion) my repository for the fleeting, ephemeral, odd, or idiosyncratic moments and objects that show up in my life. All of the photos were taken with my cell phone.<br /><br />The sky photo is actually another of my iPhone moments, taken out the west-facing windows in our school library. I've <a href="http://owlfarmer.blogspot.com/2010/02/skywatch-friday-shadows-and-reflections.html">done this before</a>, but this one has more than the "alien spaceships" (reflections of the banks of ceiling lights behind me); I saw a wondrous cloud formation around the setting sun and decided to shoot it. My antique iPhone (I have a "silverback"--first-generation version) has only a 2-megapixil camera, so the effect is pretty low-grade. But I rather like its weirdness.<br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgMouyB2znAMcV41vzA47XUfue_STEt16XvcCPDCnfGCcKQIGnrvK3CYDfM2fUhPLW5-NJ1MjYk28OyfpSykchQTicvewgDRFxd6VhHznm6s6W8r0rlF1j4xGgUxYx3preC8IkZb5U27ls/s1600/MarbleLight.jpg"><img style="float: left; margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 182px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgMouyB2znAMcV41vzA47XUfue_STEt16XvcCPDCnfGCcKQIGnrvK3CYDfM2fUhPLW5-NJ1MjYk28OyfpSykchQTicvewgDRFxd6VhHznm6s6W8r0rlF1j4xGgUxYx3preC8IkZb5U27ls/s200/MarbleLight.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5580255001698036834" border="0" /></a>On Tuesday night the utopia class wandered the shopping/dining/living complex that surrounds the school, talking about new urbanism and utopian city-planning. The shot at left is of one of the lights that flank the elevators on the main "street." My ever-inventive students thoroughly enjoyed playing with the marbles by rolling their hands back and forth over the surface.<br /><br />And finally, a contribution to Phenology 101: some of the first signs of spring to show up in my garden (the others include budding pears and peaches, flowering quince that sticks through my fence from next door, and a few herbs poking up through the detritus left over from winter). We could still get a freezer or two, and according to the weather guy, it's snowed in March three out of the last four years. The daffodils, however, are up in force, and I thought they looked rather nice in the window.<br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjnWVdSx4qFPe7a__QL4K9Kcngd-ak1bEMprbZ6vH_trHhOkAYx8W15Sf58V6gVIpUFGBZQNY31RIoNf2z_douePyQZASlg8QzxJGUQCU2HkPr0wCDQejXoFZQI6Rf3xAo2TJZ8q_mSiKk/s1600/Daffys.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjnWVdSx4qFPe7a__QL4K9Kcngd-ak1bEMprbZ6vH_trHhOkAYx8W15Sf58V6gVIpUFGBZQNY31RIoNf2z_douePyQZASlg8QzxJGUQCU2HkPr0wCDQejXoFZQI6Rf3xAo2TJZ8q_mSiKk/s400/Daffys.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5580254907389552770" border="0" /></a>I hope everyone has a lovely weekend.Owlfarmerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15373358232893937182noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1284470785139066414.post-85775504116508903972010-11-15T09:46:00.000-08:002010-12-24T08:39:41.232-08:00For the Love of Print<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhLn9RTRgQOrWbVv6B1azbBKzFczptSTtf4u6-4IJImrpHsW0B0A3IvBrUzsK0gU00NHHR2BY03Lf9pWVnQpgMdthKFvcswjMOI3kMdRK8V61hyphenhyphenXTu4diAVV2VfDSJwHCPWHBi1ztRSJGI/s1600/Anthology.jpg"><img style="float: left; margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; cursor: pointer; width: 160px; height: 213px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhLn9RTRgQOrWbVv6B1azbBKzFczptSTtf4u6-4IJImrpHsW0B0A3IvBrUzsK0gU00NHHR2BY03Lf9pWVnQpgMdthKFvcswjMOI3kMdRK8V61hyphenhyphenXTu4diAVV2VfDSJwHCPWHBi1ztRSJGI/s200/Anthology.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5539835148884802322" border="0" /></a><span style="font-size:180%;">J</span>ust when I had decided to severely limit the number of print magazines I subscribe to, I ran across mention (can't remember where now) of a new effort called <a href="http://anthologymag.com/">Anthology</a> (subtitled "Living with substance & style"). The initial attraction was the inaugural issue's theme "The Slow Life: Relax and Enjoy the Things That Really Matter." I'm a sucker for slow anything, so I succumbed.<br /><br />My first issue arrived last week, and it turns out to be far more evocative and interesting than any shelter/design magazine I've encountered in years (with the possible exception of <a href="http://www.selvedge.org/">Selvedge</a>)--and I'm both familiar with most of them and very choosy about the ones I pay attention to. Most of these I can read in the school library, like <a href="http://www.americanbungalow.com/">American Bungalow</a>, <a href="http://www.style1900.com/">Style 1900</a>, <a href="http://www.oldhousejournal.com/">Old House Journal</a>, and <a href="http://www.naturalhomemagazine.com/green-homes.aspx">Natural Home</a>. I still occasionally pick up a copy of the British edition of <a href="http://www.allaboutyou.com/home/channel%7Eindex?source=2">Country Living</a>, but have weaned myself completely from <a href="http://www.marthastewart.com/">Martha Stewart Living</a>, figuring that after fifteen years she didn't have that much more to offer me. Gone, too, are the subscriptions to <a href="http://www.eatingwell.com/">Eating Wel</a><a href="http://www.eatingwell.com/">l</a>, <a href="http://lacucinaitalianamagazine.com/">La Cucina Italiana</a>, and <a href="http://www.cookinglight.com/">Cooking Light</a>.<br /><br />If I find myself going back to these old friends more than once in a while, I'll look for digital subscriptions. But since I don't toss 'em when I've finished with them (I usually recycle after I've excised interesting material), they had become a burden. It was clear that I was never really going to do anything with all of those articles anyway, even 99% of the recipes, so out they went. Some of them, like <span style="font-style: italic;">American Bungalow</span>, were just too nice to pitch, so they've been shelved for future use and enjoyment.<br /><br />I had pretty much vowed to subscribe online from now on whenever possible, but when I saw <span style="font-style: italic;">Anthology</span>, and started reading the blog, the whole "print is not dead" notion began to resonate. After all, I am a great magazine sniffer from way back (see the comments on <a href="http://owlscabinet.blogspot.com/2008/05/esopus-magazine.html">Esopus</a> from a couple of years ago) and this one smells great. It's also full of quirky craftsmanship, eclectic design, and really interesting-sounding people. Check out the video introducing the first issue, with some cardboard sculpture I found particularly amusing:<br /><br /><iframe src="http://player.vimeo.com/video/14883747" width="400" frameborder="0" height="225"></iframe><p><a href="http://vimeo.com/14883747">Print Is Not Dead</a> from <a href="http://vimeo.com/anthologymag">Anthology Magazine</a> on <a href="http://vimeo.com/">Vimeo</a>.</p>For more cardboard sculpture, see the blog entry about <a href="http://anthologymag.com/blog3/2010/10/11/cardboard-sculptures-by-chris-gilmour/">Chris Gilmour</a>.<br /><br />I guess one reason I like this publication so much is that it combines craft with design; it marries two of my major concerns and it seems to welcome off-center ideas and views of what makes life beautiful. The fact that the creative director, Meg Mateo Ilasco, has also written a book called <a href="http://www.abramsbooks.com/Books/Crafting_a_Meaningful_Home-9781584798675.html">Crafting a Meaningful Home</a> indicates that there's a real connection to some of the notions I deal with in my blogs, both here and on the <a href="http://owlfarmer.blogspot.com/">Farm</a>.<br /><br />The admixture of esoteric aesthetics and nostalgia--as well as trendy stuff that's not as attractive to me, but will be to my daughter the designer, makes perusing the magazine itself and its digital augments a pleasure. I'll be looking forward to each issue, and have added the blog to the Cabinet's sidebar.Owlfarmerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15373358232893937182noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1284470785139066414.post-71258264198899365502010-07-01T07:58:00.000-07:002010-12-24T08:41:02.458-08:00A New Poet Laureate<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgIQh6txdeuYzmp-8WFJOMfq6NwHPzSWterJn-Ef6cthUI2iq8l4x2oaC2s7wkQ4wqbB4mLW05WRHNPXrPK8FHwYeBCTovoLunGOjVcEvVUfYBg0e4P16rVvfuV4eBghv0ak6DtD-QA6fY/s1600/Merwin.jpg"><img style="float: left; margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 168px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgIQh6txdeuYzmp-8WFJOMfq6NwHPzSWterJn-Ef6cthUI2iq8l4x2oaC2s7wkQ4wqbB4mLW05WRHNPXrPK8FHwYeBCTovoLunGOjVcEvVUfYBg0e4P16rVvfuV4eBghv0ak6DtD-QA6fY/s200/Merwin.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5488952644559590962" border="0" /></a><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);font-size:180%;" >I</span><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);font-size:100%;" > </span>don't encounter many poets any more, except for Wendell Berry and Gary Snyder--whose prose works are among my "usual reads." When I was younger, I read a great deal of Wallace Stevens and Wilfred Owen, and I was introduced to W. S. Merwin by Rainer Schulte at UT Dallas when I was a grad student. We read him in several classes, and studied his translations of others' works--which made them available to those of us who lacked anything but ancient or obscure languages.<br /><br />I loved the clarity of Merwin's work, and its lack of sentimentality; his poems are personal, but also universal, so I don't feel like I'm reading autobiography. He writes about living in nature as an act of being--not just of observing.<br /><br />As usual these days, I was surprised to learn that Merwin was still alive (he's 82) when a little pop-up box from the New York Times announced that he had been named the nation's newest poet laureate yesterday.<br /><br />This news drew me back to his work, and reminded me of my former attachment to his poems. I was disappointed to discover that none of it rests on the copious bookshelves in this house, so to celebrate I'll start remedying that situation. A trip to Half Price Books should turn up a few of the earlier works, at least, and then perhaps I'll treat myself to one of the newer books.<br /><br />In the meantime, here are some links to pages about him, some with further links to poems. Do try them if you don't already know him; he's well worth reading, especially when he focuses on nature and our life in the natural world. His poetry should resonate with anyone who reads any of the owl blogs.<br /><br /><a href="http://www.english.illinois.edu/maps/poets/m_r/merwin/merwin.htm">Modern American Poetry</a><br /><br />Dwight Garner, <a href="http://www.nytimes.com/2010/07/01/books/01garner.html?_r=1&th&emc=th">Finding Home and Inspiration in the World of Nature</a><br /><br />Patricia Cohen, <a href="http://www.nytimes.com/2010/07/01/books/01poet.html?ref=books">W. S. Merwin to Be Named Poet Laureate<br /></a><br /><a href="http://www.poets.org/poet.php/prmPID/123">Poets.org</a><br /><br /><a href="http://www.randomhouse.com/knopf/authors/merwin/index.html">Random House page on Merwin</a>, with links to works (including poems)<br /><br /><a href="http://www.onearth.org/author/w-s-merwin">The Mole</a>, a poem that appears on the National Resources Defense Council's <a href="http://www.onearth.org/">OnEarth</a> page devoted to award-winning journalism.<br /><br />I keep forgetting that the Cabinet is the perfect spot for little gems of information like this. I spend so much time grousing about the human condition on the <a href="http://owlfarmer.blogspot.com/">Farm</a> and the sorry state of education on the <a href="http://owlofathena.blogspot.com/">Owl of Athena</a> that I neglect the enjoyment of serendipity and gallimaufry--so I'll try to pay more attention.<br /><br /><span style="font-size:85%;">Image credit: lacking a legitimate source (Wikimedia Commons has failed me!), I've stolen this photo from the <a href="http://www.onearth.org/author/w-s-merwin">Natural Resources Defense Council's blurb on Merwin</a>. I'll take it off if they ask me, but maybe the link to their pages will count for something.</span>Owlfarmerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15373358232893937182noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1284470785139066414.post-36564543521315844682010-02-03T13:15:00.000-08:002010-02-03T14:17:07.774-08:00Culinary Meditations, One: Slow Oatmeal<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_J6r-J22ejb9Nw8fWDaSNGfM7gUmORKtyIloui9kwu56hMqm_DUTgBtI_bj1QbRXOnvj2YH0vv4roLztv9ASgzctI_WZEhI5lBU4HqDhxo-flUKOPe35d-IVD8YsWoOyOwC3iUzh6zhk/s1600-h/Oatmeal4.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 350px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_J6r-J22ejb9Nw8fWDaSNGfM7gUmORKtyIloui9kwu56hMqm_DUTgBtI_bj1QbRXOnvj2YH0vv4roLztv9ASgzctI_WZEhI5lBU4HqDhxo-flUKOPe35d-IVD8YsWoOyOwC3iUzh6zhk/s400/Oatmeal4.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5434144209942537458" border="0" /></a>I have always been interested in good, basic peasant food, so as I work harder to prevent further health-related crises, I've been thinking long and hard about more deliberate eating.<br /><br />People seem more and more inclined to either obsess about food or to simply eat what's cheap or handy. Neither extreme requires thinking through what we eat, or considering what it all means. But since food is one of the few real basic needs (along with clothing and shelter), it's a significant part of what I go on and on about on Owl's Farm: the education of desire.<br /><br />Seeking to educate my taste buds, I've embarked on a small program to spend time each week cooking and thinking. This morning I wanted something warm and filling to eat, so I decided to make some oatmeal. Sometime last year I found out that instant oatmeal is next to useless as a source of soluble fiber--the kind that helps regulate blood sugar, lower cholesterol, and provide other good things to one's body. After that I bought steel-cut Irish oats, cooked them up in fairly large quantities, and kept them in the fridge to nuke for breakfast. But not long ago, in one of my more nostalgic moods, I picked up some organically grown rolled oats, and these are what I retrieved from the pantry this morning.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgxsL7qqDY1NnfBQ2GuzIPCda6L4SuryWcCAAPEW1OxcchEbKlC9N_8hn8klTxgsn2QQ7F5zZ5y3HgvR1Zxv6MOwNXeyHt7FSff7MMUDIobo9oI29fo_pCNtYkppT7vGH3WSGDo2GaWbms/s1600-h/Oatmeal1.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgxsL7qqDY1NnfBQ2GuzIPCda6L4SuryWcCAAPEW1OxcchEbKlC9N_8hn8klTxgsn2QQ7F5zZ5y3HgvR1Zxv6MOwNXeyHt7FSff7MMUDIobo9oI29fo_pCNtYkppT7vGH3WSGDo2GaWbms/s200/Oatmeal1.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5434144436085963186" border="0" /></a>In an effort to keep the weevils at bay, I had removed the oats from their package and put them in an air-tight container, but forgot to put the cooking instructions in with them. Since I don't have much of a memory for quantities and proportions, I went to my old copy of <span style="font-style: italic;">The Joy of Cooking</span> to look up oatmeal and found that Rombauer had left oatmeal out of her instructions for cereal grains. But I used her quantities for course grains as a starting point, and began with four cups of water and a cup and a half of oats.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhHGMl99Gr9mRsvHfU2sUGLGsAFpJ9F_5frtJhWjw_Iu9xei65SDZO2YRagfNPo2Vd1SsXLJACGEzZE8NcaJkZe2k5WULvFP0fQSVMqTuqxDW_xGbEuR-B3rmFbVyWAbmnNEnp5JH8z1ws/s1600-h/Oatmeal2.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhHGMl99Gr9mRsvHfU2sUGLGsAFpJ9F_5frtJhWjw_Iu9xei65SDZO2YRagfNPo2Vd1SsXLJACGEzZE8NcaJkZe2k5WULvFP0fQSVMqTuqxDW_xGbEuR-B3rmFbVyWAbmnNEnp5JH8z1ws/s200/Oatmeal2.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5434144369089970754" border="0" /></a>I got the water boiling while I poured a cup of coffee, and added a few grinds of sea salt (probably no more than a quarter teaspoon). When the water hit a rolling boil, I started slowly pouring in the oats, and watched them perform their acrobatic roll around the pot. I held the last half cup back for a few moments, thinking that perhaps these would be a little less "done" in the end, and add some crunch.<br /><br />Once you get the oats all boiling together, you have to keep stirring them so they don't stick and/or boil over--but you also have to lower the heat a bit.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEinHdWrHE_XLBqIpq04d_hTK2JugF49ag9Y8sYA12lSiReRRXuiF-4TnEcQpd4JwHIduYxDi_8S9Zv8_ZXrjl1J2rxnft1RR7T7_9FV4meviZRO6Gld_KwbZkIwAL4JEPej2aL_vZlIp_k/s1600-h/Oatmeal3.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEinHdWrHE_XLBqIpq04d_hTK2JugF49ag9Y8sYA12lSiReRRXuiF-4TnEcQpd4JwHIduYxDi_8S9Zv8_ZXrjl1J2rxnft1RR7T7_9FV4meviZRO6Gld_KwbZkIwAL4JEPej2aL_vZlIp_k/s200/Oatmeal3.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5434144303254435554" border="0" /></a>I kept stirring for about ten more minutes, turned off the heat, and left the gruel to sit. It was still a bit watery, but I was pretty sure that the remaining moisture would be absorbed if I left it alone long enough to read the funnies and enjoy the rest of my coffee.<br /><br />The living room, where I read the paper in my comfy chair, is three rooms away from the kitchen, but the aroma of warm oats reached me within a couple of minutes, mingling with the coffee and sending me back to my home town, and winter mornings around my grandmother's kitchen table.<br /><br />When I returned to the pot, the oats were ready to eat, so I ladled some into a bowl, put a dollop of olive oil/butter spread in the center, drizzled it all with about a teaspoon full of ginger syrup, and added a handful of blueberries.<br /><br />I sat down and stirred the melting butter into the oats with the ginger and blueberries. I'm pretty sure I've never tasted oatmeal quite as good as this. Whether the brand of oats was particularly well-milled, or whether my method made them better, or whether just paying attention made the difference, they were quite simply the best I've ever had. The flavor was subtly oaty, there was indeed a bit of crunch, and the tiny bit of salt was all it needed to round out the flavor. I got a serving of fruit from the blueberries, and a smidgen of fat from the teaspoon of butter.<br /><br />At a time in my life when my senses seem to be either dwindling or getting lazy, it was an enormous pleasure to enjoy something so simple so much.<br /><br />I look forward to the next experiment, in hopes that this marks a way to invigorate my experience of the world. It's far too easy to get lost in the rigors of teaching, grading, and administrating, especially in winter when it's difficult to occupy oneself in the garden. Small pleasures seem to reap large rewards when approached thoughtfully--something that seems far too easy to forget, even when one has teetered on the brink of existence all too recently.Owlfarmerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15373358232893937182noreply@blogger.com10tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1284470785139066414.post-73237809127840844552009-12-25T10:03:00.000-08:002010-01-23T18:08:35.676-08:00Left Behind<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEju36_IUf-uLCzvYBv4h5kY5X_4EBd7yxXF-HZMnKDNsQ9pv34ATBuj1_Cv8amF0zaEcNHUI_VBTkVpYsaBbQdQA-toySmvTWmlft0BqE99A1nzyBtrDDkKcfEz_S7DgWrOLGJRxdZS9YI/s1600-h/Gunkanjima.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEju36_IUf-uLCzvYBv4h5kY5X_4EBd7yxXF-HZMnKDNsQ9pv34ATBuj1_Cv8amF0zaEcNHUI_VBTkVpYsaBbQdQA-toySmvTWmlft0BqE99A1nzyBtrDDkKcfEz_S7DgWrOLGJRxdZS9YI/s400/Gunkanjima.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5430108471004025874" border="0" /></a>Those of us who are enamored of <span style="font-style: italic;">Wunderkammern</span> often seem to find ourselves drifting--either physically or virtually--into ghost towns and other abandoned spaces. I think my own interest must stem from the archaeologist in me, because I'm equally drawn to unearthed remains from past civilizations--particularly three-dimensional sites like <a href="http://www.jqjacobs.net/southwest/chaco.html">Chaco Canyon</a>, the <a href="http://www.sacred-destinations.com/greece/knossos">Labyrinth at Knossos</a>, and the ruins of <a href="http://www.nga.gov/exhibitions/2008/pompeii/index.shtm">Pompeii and Herculaneum</a>.<br /><br />I began musing on this topic late last year,* when I picked up a book on sale at the Dallas Museum of Art. It was in Japanese, with very little information in English, so I ended up doing an internet search on <a href="http://bldgblog.blogspot.com/2004/07/gunkanjima-island.html">Gunkanjima Island</a>, an artificial construction on a small reef off the coast of Japan. Gunkanjima, or Battleship Island (because that's what it looks like from a distance) had arisen in the coal-mining heydey of the nineteenth century, was built up over the next century and a half, and then finally abandoned in 1974.<br /><br />The book first attracted me because it's about a place in Japan I'd never seen--nor had I (at least consciously) ever heard about it--but it had the mysterious aura of a ghost town, or a place devastated by some Chernobyl-like event (something that's haunted me since talk of a neutron bomb). The photographs are stark and beautiful, in black and white, and seem almost like museum reconstructions of an apocalypse. Here is visual proof of what goes on after we're gone--as recently portrayed in Alan Weisman's <a href="http://www.worldwithoutus.com/">The World Without Us</a>.<br /><br />The web search led me to <a href="http://bldgblog.blogspot.com/">BLDGBLOG</a>, and <a href="http://bldgblog.blogspot.com/2004/07/gunkanjima-island.html">the post I found</a> turns out to have been Geoff Manaugh's first on his more-or-less-focused-on-architecture pages. He's since gone on to myriad other fascinating places, and it'll take me a good while to plumb them all. That is, if I don't get lost looking at all the interesting stuff he sends one off to, including BLDGBLOG's sister site, <a href="http://www.ediblegeography.com/">Edible Geography</a>, now linked on the Cabinet's "Wunderkammern: Food" section.<br /><br />The <a href="http://www.dirjournal.com/">General Web Directory</a> Journal's pages on <a href="http://www.dirjournal.com/info/abandoned-places-in-the-world/">Abandoned Places In the World</a> list articles on Gunkanjima and other spots, including one in Taiwan that was built and abandoned after I left. It's not a proper blog, and its home site is more of a clearing house for web information, but I was happy to find it nonetheless.<br /><br />Of the many web places that deal with San Zhi, the "UFO pod village" originally designed to serve as a tourist trap in a relatively neglected area of Taiwan, Carrie Kellenberger's post on her <a href="http://www.myseveralworlds.com/2008/05/22/photo-journal-the-haunted-pod-village-of-san-zhi/">My Several Worlds blog</a> has the best pictures. She's a Canadian ex-pat living in Taiwan (much like my mother did for most of her life), and manages to transport us to the site through her photos. The place was built while my mother was living in Taipei, so I guess I could expect to find pictures of it among the thousands she left behind for me to sort through. One of these days. At any rate, mystery endures because construction was abandoned due to fatal accidents (or not) and rumors have hinted at nefarious deeds, resulting in another Asian take on the ghost town idea.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiax_OeMIU5yaDHU__C8nlFlKXeq05uYG8NWcCWfHymHvbIPsayMb_HErS-W-A4Kt6c0v-BPndDkMhdEX2PiPIZHTwQoPP8XWJnnJmR9nvgsuutSLeKAas36dGq9KVUeWFbrZ___5M_YC0/s1600-h/San+zhi.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 266px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiax_OeMIU5yaDHU__C8nlFlKXeq05uYG8NWcCWfHymHvbIPsayMb_HErS-W-A4Kt6c0v-BPndDkMhdEX2PiPIZHTwQoPP8XWJnnJmR9nvgsuutSLeKAas36dGq9KVUeWFbrZ___5M_YC0/s400/San+zhi.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5430112565546635618" border="0" /></a>In my more recent travels I discovered a plan to tear it down, which seems to have come to fruition according to <a href="http://www.taipeitimes.com/News/taiwan/archives/2009/01/29/2003434810">this story in the Taipei Times</a> and more recent photos. Demolition apparently began shortly after I started writing about it. (Hear the <span style="font-style: italic;">Twilight Zone</span> theme now, please.)<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEihOUwnnfVHaIhgp_MmAAWzaAsN0h0C2_6NCG4cEDWfKlbTfi9PiiBErvdNvkSFqvNRh4tFpaSfw05BZc5sImOkT2quDJUPmUmLg6f2a7ngXXSRdK_nDGIyHHFIZpm5CflBYt8FFXu-KKY/s1600-h/San+zhi+Gone.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 266px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEihOUwnnfVHaIhgp_MmAAWzaAsN0h0C2_6NCG4cEDWfKlbTfi9PiiBErvdNvkSFqvNRh4tFpaSfw05BZc5sImOkT2quDJUPmUmLg6f2a7ngXXSRdK_nDGIyHHFIZpm5CflBYt8FFXu-KKY/s400/San+zhi+Gone.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5430112661361116194" border="0" /></a>My fascination with places like these actually <span style="font-style: italic;">began</span> in Taiwan, even though I left a decade before the San Zhi pods were built. Above one of the many houses we occupied in the five or so years I lived there sat a small abandoned house that my brother and I managed to sneak into a couple of times. The place was tiny--only three rooms that I can remember--and may have been a remnant of the Japanese occupation, like many of the homes we rented (all five had at least some Japanese features). My curiosity wasn't confined to Taiwan, however. Whenever I visited my grandparents in the Owens Valley, I would peek into the windows of the empty Department of Water and Power bungalows, since they were seldom occupied when I was there. Empty spaces leave room for growing imaginations.<br /><br />The latest issue of <a href="http://www.orionmagazine.org/">Orion Magazine</a> plays into all this with an article on Deyrolle, a Parisian taxidermy store that caught fire in 2008. Martin D'Orgeval's story ("Touched By Fire") and photos evoke the same, almost mythic quality that inhabits old, stuffy museums and ghost towns. It's not online yet, but may be later (Orion tends to parcel out its web access between issues). Two of the pictures are, however, available on Jessica Palmer's <a href="http://scienceblogs.com/bioephemera/">Bioephemera</a> blog post, <a href="http://scienceblogs.com/bioephemera/2009/03/beautiful_decay_two_collection.php">Beautiful Decay: Three Collections</a>. The store, which has since reopened, has <a href="http://www.deyrolle.com/magazine/">its own website</a> (in French). The New York Times ran an article, <a href="http://www.nytimes.com/2008/03/28/arts/28iht-blume.html">Rescuing Deyrolle, a beloved Parisian Shop</a>, not long after the fire. This is another of those places I most certainly would have visited, had I known about it--even in the diminished state of youth some forty years ago, the last time I saw Paris.<br /><br />The web is chockablock with blog entries and photo collections of lost places and fascinating collections of odd things. Not at all a bad way to spend a Saturday afternoon.<br /><br />*<span style="font-style: italic;">While this post was begun last Christmas, it was abandoned, then taken up again and completed on 23 January, 2010. I think there's a metaphor here.</span><br /><span style="font-size:85%;"><br />Image credits: The opening photo was taken by a Japanese user and posted to <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/File:Hashima076.jpg">Wikimedia Commons</a>. He/she also has a <a href="http://an.to/spot/003/">page of photos of the island</a>. Unfortunately, I don't read Japanese, so I can't name the photographer. The shots of San Zhi (Sanjhih) are from <a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/cypherone/167815028/in/photostream/">Cypherone</a>'s Flickr photostream.</span>Owlfarmerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15373358232893937182noreply@blogger.com5