#curated by the greatest scholars of our day

[headknight-oh]

Dating someone younger than you but has attempted before: cradle and coffin robber

[scotianostra]

November 5th 1877 saw the opening of the original Mitchell Library, Glasgow, now the largest public reference library in Europe.

The first incarnation of The Mitchell Library was on the corner of Ingram Street and Albion Street with a collection of 5000 volumes. By the time it moved to its temporary home in Miller Street in 1891 the library boasted more than 150,000 books and could accommodate 4,000 readers.

When The Mitchell Library first opened one of the first decisions of the Library Committee was to put together a collection of items relating to Robert Burns as a memorial to Scotland’s national poet. Highlights of the collection include over 900 editions of the works including two copies of the 1786 Kilmarnock edition, two printings of the 1787 Edinburgh edition and 200 books of selected poetry. 15 original manuscripts in the poet's hand, including the only surviving letter written by Burns in Scots and the only copy in existence of ‘The Ordination' Translations of the poet's works into more than 36 languages

The library struggled at Miller Street and so, following the substantial bequest of Robert Jeffrey’s library of 4000 books, including Audubon’s Birds of America, a permanent home was found in North Street and the doors to The Mitchell Library as we know it today were opened in 1911. Today, the library is home to more than one million items, and welcomes over 500,000 visitors every year.

The early years also saw the foundation of the library’s two main special collections; the Scottish Poetry Collection and the Glasgow Collection. Other notable books among it's prized collection are a 12th Century Psalter, or book of psalms, the oldest book in the library, a late 14th century French Book of Hours, Thomas Annan’s Old Closes and Streets, a facsimile of Audubon’s Birds of America - one of the greatest works of ornithology containing life-sized, hand coloured depictions of 1065 North American birds - and Robert Burns, Poems Chiefly in the Scots Dialect (Kilmarnock edition)

The Library also holds an extensive collection of maps and atlases with some 35,000 sheet maps and 300 atlases. These range from a 1647 edition of an early world atlas, Theatrum Orbis Terrarum by Joan Blaeu, to current editions of maps published by the Ordnance Survey.

As well as maps they have a rich and extensive collection of newspapers, from our earliest newspaper The Glasgow Courant of 1715 to today’s copy of The Herald in the Mitchell Library.

Art and Design is an area that the library have collected and curated since it opened, providing an impressive collection of materials for lending and reference particular in relation to Scottish interest.

The Glasgow Collection of local and family history has grown to provide a distinctive record of Glasgowssocial, economic and cultural heritage, and is a living and growing part of the city’s collective memory. It offers endless research and discovery opportunities to both scholars and the local community.

The library holds over 5000 books for lending and reference, online resources to 1200 musical scores, sheet and recorded music.

They contain over 2 million books, maps, drawings, photographs, postcards and many other items from all parts of the world, dating from the 12th century to the present day.

Pica are the original building at Ingram Street, and pics of the "new" building inside and out including a close up of the statue of "Literature" on the top of the dome.

[fratresdei]

How to Create Sacred Space

Sacred spaces are some of the clearest examples we have of humanity’s active involvement in cultivating the Sacred. Within sacred spaces, the lines between “what is ‘just people’ and “what is ‘purely divine,'” are, blessedly, blurred to indistinction.

For example, when humans build temples, they often believe that holy presence resides within it. However, there is no delusion that the temple was not built by human hands. That reality is in fact celebrated! Within sacred space we are free to relish in our participation, or co-creation, of divine presence in our world. This power we possess does not detract from the mystery of sacred space, but is something to cherish. If we have the power to construct and nurture sacred space, that says a lot about our standing in the universe.

So, what constitutes a sacred space? The answer could include many possibilities: perhaps you have a favorite quiet spot in your place of worship or out in nature. Maybe you grew up with a shrine or altar in the home, or you may be seeking to curate and maintain a space for yourself. The space may be hidden away where only you can access it, or out in the open where you spend most of your day. There may be objects that represent deities, loved ones, prayers or intentions present. It could be a clear, clean space, empty of clutter, where the mind and spirit feel free to declutter as well. Your sacred space may simply be your own body. While the size and structure of a personal sacred space may vary, the core is the same: a place that has been set aside for contemplation or communion with the divine. The beauty of a sacred space, like many facets of spiritual life, derives from the meaning it carries for you.

To help illustrate the many variations and nuances of a sacred space, Fratres Dei Spiritual Direction Contributor Saint Gibson @stgibsonofficial and Communications Manager Caroline Crook @yourfavoriteauntcarol (yours truly), have each shared a picture of our own sacred spaces and described the contents therein.

Saint’s Space

There are a number of sacred spaces scattered throughout my house; the rose-scented Our Lady of Guadalupe candle and collection of crystals in my bedroom, the shelf where my fiancé and I remember our departed ancestors with little photos and trinkets, and the font of holy water affixed to the wall by the front door. But the most prominent sacred space in my home is the altar table set up in the living room, underneath a gilded icon of the Madonna and child.

On it, I keep all my candles and figurines representing the saints and angels, and some beloved keepsakes, like dried flowers, gifted rosaries, and letters from friends. The plate in the center of the altar features a painting of the last supper and is used for offerings: generally water, and sometimes alcohol or milk depending on whether or not that's appropriate to the petition or the day on the church calendar. My household celebrates both the Christian holidays and the pagan wheel of the year, so the decorations on the altar change out with feast days and seasons. The candles around the offering plate change, but there's always a sacred heart of Jesus and a Mary mother of God burning away, and usually a Saint Jude and a Saint Joseph as well. I burn a rainbow candle to remember the queer saints of the church both known and unknown, and to ask for God's protection on LGBTQ+ people worldwide.

My patron saint is the archangel Uriel, patron of confirmation in the Episcopal church and of poets and scholars widely. My golden Uriel figurine presides over his side of the altar, along with a figurine of the archangel Raphael, my fiancé's patron. We've got all sorts of talismans and charms representing the four archangels, and we have a fiery red candle for the archangel Michael that stands looped in a necklace featuring a ward against the evil eye. A golden pietà, my fiancé's greatest thrift store find, watches over all the candles. We've also got a colored figurine of the Infant of Prague standing proudly over a photograph of my fiancé and I. That's because the very first letter my fiancé ever sent me was a photograph of the Infant when he was traveling abroad, and we like to think he watches over us.

There are prayer cards littered about, and I often find myself reaching for Saint Ignatius of Loyola or Saint John the Revelator in times of need. We also usually keep incense burning in a metal cauldron that's always stuffed full of salt and ashes. Frankincense, rose, and lemongrass are my favorites. There are also many taper candles that I've saved from trips to other churches or from sung masses on Michaelmas and Christmas Eve.

I've been curating sacred space in every dorm room and apartment I've lived in for years, and this is by far my most favorite space yet. There's enough room to stand while you pray and move items around, but it's small enough that I could pack up everything on the altar into one box if I needed to. The table stands right between the living room and the kitchen, in the heart of the home, and it makes me feel like blessings are being disseminated from the altar to every room in the house. It's a way to keep a little bit of divinity always within arms reach, incarnate in rosaries and candles and bottles of holy water. With my altar nearby, I feel prepared for any spiritual celebration or crisis, and I know exactly where to retrieve up my spiritual tools when the occasion calls for it.

Caroline’s Space

Let’s call my sacred space an acoustic version of what a sacred space can be. It’s only a few months old; yet another quarantine project. Cluttered? Yes. Often mistaken as just a shelf for all my candles? Also yes. But it serves my spiritual life in ways that I personally find intuitive and accessible.

Of the three bookshelves in my apartment, this one is in a central spot in the living room, facing the couch. It’s part of the space and rhythm where most of my daily life takes place. Especially during quarantine when my brain fog is even worse than normal, it’s nice to be able to naturally glance over at this shelf and quickly check in with its contents.

Said contents are 95% candles. Whenever I need to set aside some time for an intentional, spiritually fulfilling practice (whether prayer, yoga, reading, writing, or just a break from social media) I light a candle. On days of significance (birthdays, anniversaries, etc.) or to pray for a loved one, I’ll light a smaller tealight candle in the centerpiece and let it burn for the day.

The remaining 5% is all gifted, bought or found objects from friends and family members. The centerpiece is a candle/incense holder one of my oldest and dearest friends gave to me. There is a glass dish of crystals, shells and sharks’ teeth, all collected over the years between Florida and DC, with family and friends. The glass bottle in the corner was a gift from a friend’s wedding last summer, and I keep that filled with rainwater or holy water, depending on what’s at hand. There’s a crystal seashell towards the back that was a gift from my late grandmother. Each of these objects, to me, represents the many connections, joys and loves in my life. I’m also part magpie, so it’s nice to have a place where these odds and ends I collect can be 1) on display, 2) out of the way.

Other objects come and go, as I like to place items on this shelf that symbolize what’s on my heart at the time. Coins, written turns of phrase, scraps from old clothes, photos of loved ones, etc. Occasionally the odd tarot card, if I’m looking for a stronger visual.

For years this surface was just part candle repository, part please-God-do-not-forget-to-return-these-library-books shelf. It had a vague purpose, and certainly held things that are important to me, but not in an especially meaningful way. The act of curating this space -- choosing that shelf, cleaning it up, deciding what to place where, and maintaining it over time -- has been a source of calm, inspiration, and reflection. It’s still a work in progress though; I have a holly wreath I place around the centerpiece during the holidays, and am looking into getting a wreath to celebrate each season in the year. To, you know, help me remember that time is still passing in quarantine (I want to say April was… two weeks ago?)

If you feel so inclined, we would love to hear from you as well: what does a sacred space mean to you? What sacred spaces have you cultivated or visited?

If you’re curious about cultivating your own sacred space with the help of an expert, book your first free virtual session with Fratres Dei Spiritual Direction in the comments.

Saint offers tarot readings that are affirming, insightful and welcome to all. Check out Holy Roots Tarot using the link in the comments.

February 18, 2021 | Denver, Colorado

[equalseleventhirds]

i am thinking about, right, like a fairy tale land, where things operate on fairy tale rules. you know the ones. everyone in this fairy tale land knows them too, and Expects Things.

and there’s a young man--youngest of seven brothers, actually, who were themselves the offspring of a seventh son. we all know what that means. he knows what that means. his parents, when a seventh son was born in their humble farmhouse, sure did know what that meant (and perhaps, shortly after he was born, neighbors and townsfolk and gentry and wizards and perhaps-royalty-in-disguise visited, and gave them gifts, until their farmhouse was not so humble, because it’s always good to get on the good side of someone you know is going far).

so the boy was special, and everyone knew he was special. and his brothers were not wicked, of course, but they knew he was different, knew he would be great. knew what that meant for them.

the oldest knew that the prosperity of their farm was because of his youngest brother, and he was grateful, but, well, just a bit resentful. his youngest brother would be great, would be the greatest among them, but what did that leave for the oldest? waiting until his brother completed whatever task he had, then living on his good will? no, that would not do, for he was independent and proud--he had been, until quite recently, an Oldest Brother. when there were only three our four or five or six brothers, that meant quite a bit, responsibility and experience and so on. he was not yet ready to let that go.

so! he decided, the youngest would be greatest, but that did not mean the oldest could not still be great! and off he went, seeking his fortune, knowing he could not aim too high or he would fail, but perhaps something smaller. perhaps just, apprenticing at a well-to-do smithy in town, and learning a new trade, and learning it well, and eventually marrying his teacher’s daughter, who was just as able a smith as he, and partnering with her, and taking over the smithy, and expanding the business.

the oldest brother was not too ambitious, and so, as fairy tales allow, he was successful enough.

well! the second oldest, of course, could not simply stay at home after that. there are rules to these things, after all--the seventh will be greatest, but the oldest cannot be the next greatest. there is a pattern to be kept. so although the second oldest son rather enjoyed the work on their no-longer-quite-so-humble farm--although he enjoyed rising at dawn each day to milk the cows, although he enjoyed working the fields in the sunshine--he knew he had to go and be just a little greater than his older brother. if not, things might just come around and ruin someone’s life, and he didn’t want it to be him, and he didn’t want it to be his older brother.

so! he decided, if he loved the farm so much, perhaps he could be a great farmer? so he went around to other farms, signing on as a farmhand for a while, making contacts, learning other methods besides what his family had always used. and one day he went to a very large farm, owned by a wealthy landowner, who owned several such farms. and he met the landowner’s son, who was impressed by his knowledge and his skill and his strong, sturdy arms, and soon enough they were wed as well, and the second son found his place of small greatness.

the second son was not ambitious at all, but carefully curated his aspirations to be just slightly more than his brother’s, and so, as fairy tales allow, he was successful as well.

and so it continued--the third son found his place as a scholar and taught at university with his spouse; the fourth son joined a trade caravan and soon enough wed the caravan leader; the fifth son became a mayor with his wise wife beside him; the sixth son found himself surprisingly adept at magic, and wed a noble sorcerer, advisor to a king. each was just a bit greater than the last, but careful never to try to be too great, of course.

at last the seventh son was the only one who had not yet found his fortune, and, being now an adult, set out to seek it.

‘oh, my son,’ said his mother, preparing him for his journey, ‘all six of your brothers have been so successful, each one more than the last. surely you, seventh son of a seventh son, will achieve the greatest destiny of all of them. why, i would not be terribly surprised if you were to save a princess, or a prince, and gain their hand in marriage and half a kingdom.’ (these things are, as we know, quite standard destinies for the seventh son of a seventh son.)

‘yes, mother’, said the young man, who was not in fact entirely certain he wanted to save and marry any sort of royalty. not that he would leave a prince or princess in distress to their terrible fate, of course, for he was a kind-hearted young man, but he was not sure about this ‘marrying someone because you saved them’ business. and ruling over half a kingdom sounded like an awful lot of responsibility; he couldn’t even tell their hen what to do when she was in a cross mood, which was often.

still, he knew the rules of the world just as well as any. if his brothers had all done so well in their lives, he would find even more success, whether he wanted to or not.

so! he packed his bags, and kissed his mother on the cheek, and went, uncertain, to seek his fortune.

he had not been traveling for very long (although, of course, long enough to meet several creatures in need, who he helped and who promised to help him in his time of need, as is the way of these things) when he found a palace, where weeping and wailing filled the air.

he made his way to the palace courtyard, where a crowd of nobles and royalty stood, crying and commiserating. upon asking a servant (for even a seventh son of a seventh son, unproved as he was, could not directly ask the king and queen), he was told that the princess of the land had been stolen away by bandits, and none of the knights or lords or heroes sent after her had been able to save her, but had returned in disgrace, too ashamed to even tell of their attempts. the king and queen had even offered half their kingdom and the princess’ hand in marriage to anyone who would bring her safely home, but none had succeeded.

well! the young man knew destiny when it shook his hand, even if he rather wished he’d had more time to explore the world before meeting Expectations. still, he was not about to leave a princess and her kingdom suffering. so he politely asked where the bandits might be found and, shouldering his pack, set off once more to meet his destiny.

the bandit camp was outside the city, past the forest, in the hills on the edge of a desert. the young man met several obstacles on his way, but with his own wit, and kindness, and strength, and the help of some of the creatures he had saved, he made it there safely. right outside the cave the bandits camped in, a young woman with flame-red hair sat in a rickety chair, sharpening a wicked-looking sword.

‘who are you?’ she called out sharply.

‘i’m here to rescue the princess,’ he told her, polite as ever. ‘it would be best for you to surrender her, for i am the seventh son of a seventh son, and you know how these things always go. people like me are quite good at saving princesses, i’m afraid.’

the young woman scoffed and tossed her head, her hair shining in the setting sun. ‘i rather think not! for you would not be rescuing a princess, but kidnapping her, and removing her to a cruel and unjust fate. i am that princess; i ran away to join these bandits, for i can better serve my people here than in that palace of wealth, glutted on the work of the poor.’

the young man thought about this, and remembered the hollow faces and hungry stares of the peasants he had passed in this kingdom, so different from the people near his own no-longer-humble farm at home. still, he was clever, and thought it best to check. ‘and how do i know you are the princess, as you say?’

‘simple! my face is upon half the coins you see in this land--coins i have here, which we recently stole from a wicked, wealthy nobleman.’

and indeed, after some examination, and a few more questions, the young man conceded she was indeed the princess, and here by her own choice, in fact, he was quite relieved at this, and said so.

‘i am quite relieved,’ he told her earnestly, ‘since this means you do not need rescuing, and so i will not have to marry you. no offense meant to you, but we have only just met.’

at this, the bandit princess laughed, loud and sudden. ‘none taken! and i will not beat you as i did the last few heroes to come here.’

‘and i’m very grateful for it!’

‘but it’s getting very late,’ she continued, ‘and as you are peaceful towards us, i suppose you might stay the night. it is nearly supper time.’

now, the young man knew how these things tend to work, and knew there was a chance of the princess falling in love with him now. but he was also very tired, and very hungry, and knew better than to turn down a kindness, and so he accepted.

luckily, it quickly became clear that the bandit princess was much more concerned with her second-in-command--a peasant woman turned bandit, with lovely dark eyes that followed her princess’s every move in turn--than with the seventh son. reassured, he went to help the bandits’ cook, as he had been a help in the kitchen at home when he was young.

the cook was round and strong and amiable, and soon enough the young man had shared the story of his journey, and all the interesting things that had happened so far: the people he’d met, the sights he’d seen, the mysterious creatures he had helped and been helped by in return.

‘and then i heard about the princess, and i came here,’ he concluded, ‘using up several of my favors on the way. i will have to collect more, i suppose, to be used when i find a royal heir who does need rescuing, although i hope that is a long way off.’

‘why do you hope that?’ the cook asked, handing him a basket of flat bread. ‘do you not enjoy helping people?’

‘oh i do!’ the young man said. ‘i truly do! and these adventures are so interesting, too! which is why i hope i don’t rescue any princes or princesses for a while, for then my journey will have to end, as i will have a royal spouse to wed and half a kingdom to rule.’

‘can’t you just save them and leave without marrying them?’

‘oh, no! i have to marry them and rule half the kingdom. that is my glorious destiny, as the seventh son of a seventh son.’

‘for someone with such a glorious destiny, you don’t seem too excited by it.’

the young man sighed, despondent. ‘no, i suppose not. but what can i do? each of my six brothers has had such great success, and married such a wonderful spouse, that surely my destiny must be even greater success, and a great spouse, whatever else i may want. that is the way the world works, you know.’

the cook turned sharp, clever eyes on him, lifting a spoonful of stew for him to taste. ‘is it? how interesting. and the world has always worked this way?’

‘oh yes! i’m afraid so.’

‘and no one has been great enough to change it?’

‘oh no, i’m afraid not.’

‘well! then it rather sounds like the world has been rather trapped in this way for too long. i wonder if someone with a glorious destiny might rescue it, and change things a bit.’

[oberlincollegelibraries]

Weekend Edition: Non-Fiction

The great thing about non-fiction books is that we have lots of them in our libraries on almost any topic you can imagine. You can find one that interests you in the Main, Conservatory, Art or Science library. Here are a few recently published ones you might want to consider for your bingo box prompt, Non- Fiction.

God Rock, Inc. : the business of niche music / Andrew Mall “Popular music in the twenty-first century is increasingly divided into niche markets. How do fans, musicians, and music industry executives define their markets' boundaries? What happens when musicians cross those boundaries? What can Christian music teach us about commercial popular music? In God Rock, Inc., Andrew Mall considers the aesthetic, commercial, ethical, and social boundaries of Christian popular music, from the late 1960s, when it emerged, through the 2010s. Drawing on ethnographic research, historical archives, interviews with music industry executives, and critical analyses of recordings, concerts, and music festival performances, Mall explores the tensions that have shaped this evolving market and frames broader questions about commerce, ethics, resistance, and crossover in music that defines itself as outside the mainstream”

Frederick Douglass : prophet of freedom / David W. Blight. “The definitive, dramatic biography of the most important African-American of the nineteenth century: Frederick Douglass, the escaped slave who became the greatest orator of his day and one of the leading abolitionists and writers of the era. As a young man Frederick Douglass (1818-1895) escaped from slavery in Baltimore, Maryland. He was fortunate to have been taught to read by his slave owner mistress, and he would go on to become one of the major literary figures of his time. He wrote three versions of his autobiography over the course of his lifetime and published his own newspaper.” (publisher).

Video/art: the first fifty years / Barbara London “The curator who founded MoMA's video program recounts the artists and events that defined the medium's first 50 years. Since the introduction of portable consumer electronics nearly a half century ago, artists throughout the world have adapted their latest technologies to art-making. In this book, curator Barbara London traces the history of video art as it transformed into the broader field of media art - from analog to digital, small TV monitors to wall-scale projections, and clunky hardware to user-friendly software. In doing so, she reveals how video evolved from fringe status to be seen as one of the foremost art forms of today.”

Grassroots rising : a call to action on climate, farming, food, and a green new deal / Ronnie Cummins “A book that should be in the hands of every activist working on food and farming, climate change, and the Green New Deal."--Vandana Shiva A practical, shovel-ready plan for anyone wondering what they can do to help address the global climate crisis Grassroots Rising is a passionate call to action for the global body politic, providing practical solutions for how to survive--and thrive--in catastrophic times.”

Hot pants and spandex suits : gender representation in American superhero comic books / Esther De Dauw  "Hot Pants and Spandex Suits looks at representations of gender and its intersection with sexuality and race through the figure of the superhero. It places superheroes in their socio-historical context, particularly those published by the 'Big Two' publishers in the industry: Marvel and DC. The superheroes are: Superman, Captain America, Iron Man, Wonder Woman, Supergirl, Wiccan, Hulkling, Batwoman, Luke Cage, Falcon, Storm and Ms Marvel. Focusing on superheroes' first appearance in World War II up to their current iterations, author Esther De Dauw looks at how superheroes have changed and adapted to either match or challenge prevailing ideas about gender, including views on masculinity and femininity in the US military, attitudes towards American national identity, how gender intersects with sexuality for gay superheroes and how the lack of representation of minority communities impacts the superhero of color. What do superheroes say about and to us? Considering how gender, race and sexuality are often inextricably enmeshed in representation politics, this book offers an analysis that examines how all these different identities intersect and how that intersection itself produces ideas about gender. What is it that superheroes teach us about what it means to be a man or a woman when we're white or gay or Black? Following this analysis, it offers strategies and solutions to the question of representation within both the comic book industry and comic book scholarship. This book will be of interest to anyone interested in superheroes, including comic book scholars, gender studies' scholars, Critical Race scholars and scholars in the field of American Studies"-- Provided by publisher

Stamped : racism, antiracism, and you / written by Jason Reynolds ; adapted from Stamped from the beginning by and with an introduction from Ibram X. Kendi "The construct of race has always been used to gain and keep power, to create dynamics that separate and silence. Racist ideas are woven into the fabric of this country, and the first step to building an antiracist America is acknowledging America's racist past and present. This book takes you on that journey, showing how racist ideas started and were spread, and how they can be discredited"--Dust jacket flap "A history of racist and antiracist ideas in America, from their roots in Europe until today, adapted from the National Book Award winner Stamped from the Beginning"-- Provided by publisher

The undocumented Americans / Karla Cornejo Villavicencio. "Traveling across the country, journalist Karla Cornejo Villavicencio risked arrest at every turn to report the extraordinary stories of her fellow undocumented Americans. Her subjects have every reason to be wary around reporters, but Cornejo Villavicencio has unmatched access to their stories. Her work culminates in a stunning, essential read for our times. Born in Ecuador and brought to the United States when she was five years old, Cornejo Villavicencio has lived the American Dream. Raised on her father's deliveryman income, she later became one of the first undocumented students admitted into Harvard. She is now a doctoral candidate at Yale University and has written for The New York Times. She weaves her own story among those of the eleven million undocumented who have been thrust into the national conversation today as never before. Looking well beyond the flashpoints of the border or the activism of the DREAMERS, Cornejo Villavicencio explores the lives of the undocumented as rarely seen in our daily headlines. In New York, we meet the undocumented workers who were recruited in the federally funded Ground Zero cleanup after 9/11. In Miami we enter the hidden botanicas, which offer witchcraft and homeopathy to those whose status blocks them from any other healthcare options. In Flint, Michigan, we witness how many live in fear as the government issues raids at grocery stores and demands identification before offering life-saving clean water. In her book, Undocumented America, Cornejo Villavicencio powerfully reveals the hidden corners of our nation of immigrants. She brings to light remarkable stories of hope and resilience, and through them we come to understand what it truly means to be American"-- Provided by publisher

[brooklynmuseum]

The Brooklyn Museum mourns the loss of Dr. David C. Driskell, whose scholarship, teaching, and curatorial work were instrumental in defining the field of African American art history. His landmark, traveling exhibition Two Centuries of Black American Art, which made its final stop at the Brooklyn Museum in 1977, featured work by more than 200 artists and transformed the ways in which American museums framed and presented histories of African American art. An artist himself, his work was included in the Museum’s recent presentation of Soul of a Nation: Art in the Age of Black Power.

Reflecting on Two Centuries of Black American Art in 2009, Dr. Driskell recounted how he wanted to bring “patterns of exclusion, segregation, and racism to the attention of the art public. [. . .] But it was also about engaging the establishment in the rules of the canon, so as to say, ‘No, you haven't seen everything; you don't know everything. And here is a part of it that you should be seeing.’”

We are grateful to Dr. Driskell for his immeasurable contributions to the field of art history, and will continue to carry his scholarship and his lessons with us.

***

“When Dr. Driskell spoke at the Brooklyn Museum last year as part of the programming for Soul of a Nation, he told me backstage how he had been on our stage in the 60s with civil rights heroes such as James Baldwin. He was so happy to have returned and could not have been more full of grace. Dr. Driskell has left a profound mark on the Museum’s history. While we mourn his passing, we also celebrate the ways that he shaped a history of African American art and advanced both the field and our institutions with clarity and conviction.”

– Anne Pasternak, Shelby White and Leon Levy Director

“An artist, educator, art historian, and curator across at least five decades, Dr. Driskell’s impact was not only field defining but field generating. When we talk about the ongoing project that is the writing and presentation of black art history against its erasure and/or dismissal, we must keep close what it meant for scholars like Driskell who began this work with few blueprints, summoning the great courage and clarity necessary to name and advocate for the importance of black art history – in the face of so many cynics and detractors. I live with gratitude for that fortitude. It was my absolute honor to include Dr. Driskell in the Brooklyn presentation of Soul of a Nation, and an even bigger honor to meet him and to welcome him to the museum for an unforgettable conversation with Dr. Elizabeth Alexander in the fall of 2018. I will hold that memory close.”

– Ashley James, Associate Curator, Guggenheim Museum, and former Assistant Curator, Contemporary Art, Brooklyn Museum

Two Centuries of Black American Art, June 25, 1977 through September 05, 1977 (Image: Brooklyn Museum photograph, 1977)

“Dr. Driskell's 1977 exhibition Two Centuries of Black American Art intended to, in his words, engage "the establishment in the rules of the canon, so as to say, 'No, you haven't seen everything; you don't know everything. And here is a part of it that you should be seeing.'" Museums are still catching up to this proposition today, and we can all benefit from acknowledging how much there is to learn from each other. And we learned so much from him!

In the New York Times review of that exhibition, critic Hilton Kramer dispraised the show, asking "Is it black art or is it social history?" Dr. Driskell responded: "All art is social history; it's all made by human beings. And, consequently, it has its role in history."

Rest in power Dr. Driskell.”

– Carmen Hermo, Associate Curator, Elizabeth A. Sackler Center for Feminist Art

“When I was an undergrad art history student at the University of Maryland, I ran the student art gallery and while this was between the time when Dr. Driskell served as Chair of the Art Department and when he was named Distinguished Professor, he was always interested and supportive of the clique of young artists and future art historians who hung out at the West Gallery. His generosity made a real impression on me and every time he walked in the gallery I would become completely tongue-tied.”

– Catherine Morris, Sackler Senior Curator, Elizabeth A. Sackler Center for Feminist Art

“Although I never got to know Dr. David C. Driskell personally, I did have the opportunity to hear him speak several times. When I first began studying African American art in college, I understood that David Driskell was a pioneer in the field. But, when I tucked into seats in buzzing lectures hall to hear Dr. Driskell speak as a grad student or subsequently as a museum professional, I heard about conversations with Aaron Douglas or summer at Skowhegan--Dr. Driskell painted a picture of a life lived with the people that made up the history I was devoted to studying. With the passing of Dr. Driskell, a connection to the past has been irrevocably severed.”

– Dalila Scruggs, Fellowship Coordinator, Education

“David Driskell’s life took him from a one-room segregated schoolhouse in North Carolina to the White House. Under the Clinton administration, Driskell, acknowledged as a leading expert on African American Art, worked with Mrs. Clinton to acquire a great landscape by Henry Ossawa Tanner, who became the first Black artist to enter the White House collection. This is only one example of the many doors Driskell opened in his quest to tell a more truthful and complete story of American history and culture.”

– Eugenie Tsai, John and Barbara Vogelstein Senior Curator, Contemporary Art

“I did not have the opportunity to meet Dr. David C. Driskell, but I fondly recall seeing him speak at a CASVA symposium, The African American Art World in 20th-Century Washington, D.C., at the National Gallery of Art in 2017. There, he participated in a panel discussion with other artists (moderated by Ruth Fine) regarding the city’s impact on his own artistic development. He spoke with such passion about James A. Porter and the legacy of his teaching at Howard University.

Driskell has also left an indelible imprint on the Brooklyn Museum and its own exhibition program, most recently with his inclusion in Soul of a Nation: Art in the Age of Black Power. In 1976, he curated Two Centuries of Black American Art, which opened at the Los Angeles County Museum of Art in 1976 and subsequently traveled to the Brooklyn Museum in 1977. In this groundbreaking exhibition and publication, he defined the “evolution of a black aesthetic” and called attention to such important eighteenth- and nineteenth-century artists as Joshua Johnson, Robert S. Duncanson, and Henry Ossawa Tanner, among many others. Driskell has significantly shaped my own thinking on American art and, in my own research, I am reminded of his rediscovery of the landscape painter Edward Mitchell Bannister who, after his death in 1901, remained largely forgotten.

Edward Mitchell Bannister (American, 1828-1901). Untitled (Cow Herd in Pastoral Landscape), 1877. Oil on linen canvas. Brooklyn Museum Brooklyn Museum Fund for African American Art, 2016.10

A tireless advocate for Black artists, Driskell led the charge in redefining the mainstream art historical canon. He forever changed the discipline and paved the way for so many, and for that I am grateful.”

– Margarita Karasoulas, Assistant Curator of American Art

Clips from Two Centuries of Black American Art, Los Angeles County Museum of Art © Pyramid Films, 1976. Brooklyn Museum Archives.

“One of the greatest treasures in the Brooklyn Museum Archives are the five videos that document the Symposium Afro-American Art: Form, Content, and Direction that occurred on June 24th and 25th, 1977 that was organized by David Driskell, the Schomburg Center, and Brooklyn Museum Staff in conjunction with the Two Centuries of Black American Art exhibition. In the afternoon of the first day, Romare Bearden, Selma Burke, Jacob Lawrence, John Rhoden, Ernest Crichlow, Vincent Smith, Bob Blackburn, Roy De Cavara, Valerie Maynard, and William T. Williams talked on stage for three hours about their artistic practices within the context of twentieth-century art traditions. It’s staggering to think of all those brilliant artists in conversation together—watching the footage, hearing the artists in their own words is profoundly moving.

When researchers are looking into the exhibition or are curious about the Museum’s history of exhibiting Black Artists, I’m always excited to share the material produced for, by, and of the exhibition. The archival material includes visitor comment books, the press kit, 22 folders of correspondence, the film produced for the exhibition, and the aforementioned symposium videos. The programming built around the exhibition was legendary, and the breadth is rarely seen today: seven artist studio visits (Howardena Pindell!), six supplemental exhibitions at other venues (The Abstract Continuum at Just Above Midtown Gallery!), twenty-two gallery talks (Dr. Rosalind Jeffries on the Harlem Renaissance!), dance performances (Sounds in Motion Dance Company!), concerts, and the list goes on. Driskell’s vision had a deep seismic effect on the art world. The people brought together at these events and programs, the knowledge shared, learned, and passed on to subsequent generations, none of this can be quantifiably measured or completely comprehended, especially from a remove, but its incredible magnitude can be felt when conducting research into the exhibition. Dozens of researchers have come to look into this history, and I look forward to welcoming future visitors to the Archives to learn more about David Driskell, hopefully inspiring them to perpetuate his monumental legacy.”

– Molly Seegers, Museum Archivist

[wesleyhill]

The Voice from the Whirlwind

A homily on Job 38:1-11, preached at Trinity Cathedral, Pittsburgh, on the Fourth Sunday after Pentecost 2021

Our Old Testament reading today is taken from the book of Job. Many scholars consider Job to be a literary masterpiece and its poetry the most beautiful in the entire Hebrew Bible. In light of that, I’m going to read our text again from the King James Version, which does better than most any other version at capturing the grandeur of the language.

 Then the LORD answered Job out of the whirlwind, and said, 2 Who is this that darkeneth counsel by words without knowledge? 3 Gird up now thy loins like a man; for I will demand of thee, and answer thou me. 4 Where wast thou when I laid the foundations of the earth? declare, if thou hast understanding. 5 Who hath laid the measures thereof, if thou knowest? or who hath stretched the line upon it? 6 Whereupon are the foundations thereof fastened? or who laid the corner stone thereof; 7 When the morning stars sang together, and all the sons of God shouted for joy? 8 Or who shut up the sea with doors, when it brake forth, as if it had issued out of the womb? 9 When I made the cloud the garment thereof, and thick darkness a swaddlingband for it, 10 And brake up for it my decreed place, and set bars and doors, 11 And said, Hitherto shalt thou come, but no further: and here shall thy proud waves be stayed?

This portion of Job comes from the very end of the book. In the thirty-seven long chapters that precede it, we have heard the story and the voice of Job, as well as the rebukes of some friends of his that have come to visit him.

Let’s recall that story so that we have the context for the portion we just heard. Job is a kind of Everyman character, a timeless figure. He does not seem to be descended from Abraham; he is not an Israelite. He is from Uz, some faraway city, and he is described as “the greatest of all the people of the east” (1:3). We might picture a wealthy sheikh with a palace and a retinue. His city and his lifestyle are meant to transport us into a sort of fairy tale setting (and remember — as C. S. Lewis and the Inklings remind us — that doesn’t mean the story is any less true! To be swept up in a good fairy tale is to be forced to grapple with something true about us).

One day, according to the story, an accusing, adversarial angelic figure makes a proposal to God in his heavenly court. He claims that Job only worships God and lives a virtuous life because it’s easy for him to do so. “But stretch out your hand now,” the adversary tells God, “and touch all that he has, and he will curse you to your face.” And God gives the adversary permission to take away Job’s family (his ten children are all killed), his wealth, and his health. And Job’s response is to continue, through it all, to worship God: “Naked I came from my mother’s womb, and naked shall I return there; the LORD gave, and the LORD has taken away; blessed be the name of the LORD” (1:21).

At this point in the story, three friends of Job travel from far away to see this greatest of all men reduced to sitting in an ash heap scraping his inflamed skin with a shard of pottery. For seven days they simply sit in silence with Job (as Jews to this day practice sitting shiva with the bereaved), “for they saw that his suffering was very great” (2:13).

But then, for the next thirty-five chapters of the book, Job howls out his innocence in poem after poem, speech after poetic speech, and his three friends remonstrate with him. They rebuke him for his arrogantly supposing that he can call God to account, and he retorts, “Miserable comforters are you all” (16:2). Back and forth it goes. So many words. So many “vain,” “windy words,” as the poet calls them at one point (16:3, KJV; NRSV).

And then, out of a storm that overwhelms all the words, the LORD finally speaks. Job had earlier wished that the day of his birth had been shrouded in darkness, but God turns that wish around and asks Job why he has shrouded everything with ignorant speech: “Who is this that darkeneth counsel by words without knowledge?” Then the LORD declares that He intends to question Job: “Gird up now thy loins like a man; for I will demand of thee, and answer thou me.”

And then comes some of the most memorable imagery in the entire book. I encourage you to open your Bible at home and read the passage again later, slowly, and pay attention to the striking imagery and metaphors. The LORD asks of Job:

You who are so full of opinions and recriminations, where were you when I was hoisting the rafters of the universe? Where were you when I was taking a plumbline to the Milky Way? Were you there, Job, when the roar of exploding galaxies sounded like a thundering choir of praise? Were you there when the ocean’s water broke, and I wrapped the sea with clouds like a mother wraps an infant in a warm blanket? If you know so much, Job, tell me, were you there? Because I was!

The LORD goes on like this for four whole chapters, giving Job a tour of all the wonders and terrors of creation.

And it’s at this point many readers have felt that the book of Job is at its least convincing. Here is Job, in psychological and bodily agony, crying out from the depths, “Why me?” And God’s answer is… to talk about oceans and stars and ostriches and crocodiles, as if merely asserting His power as the Creator were enough to put an end to honest, gut-wrenching questions, as if God were saying, “Shut up and just look at how much bigger and stronger than you I am.”

That’s a common interpretation that people have of our reading for today, but I don’t think it does justice to the text. Because God isn’t silencing Job so much as He is inviting Job to see in a new way. The LORD is not simply cataloguing His creatures for Job, as if He were curating a nature exhibit. Job has been trying to relate to the LORD as if He were a contractor; the LORD is trying to tell Job that, from the very beginning of creation, He is a covenant-maker. The LORD is reminding Job that back behind and underneath Job’s calculus of guilt and innocence; deeper than tit-for-tat human schemes that would supposedly sort out all the rational, moral reasons for why things happen in the world the way they do; beyond all this, at the heart of everything there is an unending, un-endable generosity, a light that can never be extinguished, an unfathomable source of life and goodness and wisdom. This isn’t merely some impersonal source of inspiration or fortitude that will get you safely through grief and out the other side; this ceaseless gift comes from the presence of the LORD Himself, the God who addresses Job, who speaks with Job, who seeks Job out precisely in his pain and loneliness. Beyond all deserving or undeserving, the LORD comes to Job. The LORD reveals Himself. Job is not given a platitude; he encounters a Person. The LORD is there — in majesty and mercy. And ultimately, in repentance and trust and hope, Job says to God, “I had heard You with my ear, but now my eye perceives You. Therefore, I recant and relent, being but dust and ashes” (42:5-6, NJPS). Job has not had his questions answered, but he has met the One who made him — the One who will open a future for him beyond all deserving or comprehending, the One who asks not for comprehension but for humility and trust.

Some of you may have seen Terrence Malick’s film The Tree of Life from ten years ago. It was nominated for multiple Oscars and struck a chord with many Christian viewers in particular. It opens with a blank screen and the words from our reading, the words that the LORD speaks to Job: “Where were you when I laid the foundations of the earth… When the morning stars sang together, and all the sons of God shouted for joy?” The movie follows the story of a family with young children in Waco, Texas in the 1950s. I don’t want to spoil it for you (if you haven’t seen it, I encourage you to), but I will say that tragedy of the most awful kind strikes this family, and throughout the film, the characters return to that haunting question God asks of Job, “Where were you?” — except, in the film, it is the people who say it to God, rather than God who says it to them. Where were you?

Astonishingly, the movie tries to visually depict God’s speech to Job by taking a full 18 minutes — roughly an eighth of the entire film — to show the unfolding of creation, from the big bang to the emergence of dinosaurs. It sounds bizarre, but it’s extraordinary to see. One minute you’re watching one ordinary family in Waco in the 1950s navigate ordinary human sorrow, anger, remorse, and longing, and the next minute you’re watching nebulae and planetary rings and cell divisions. At the same time that you’re seeing one particular family’s life play out in all of its quotidian drama, you’re seeing the dazzling, awe-evoking origin of all life.

Where were you? the characters ask God.

The answer to that question that the LORD gives to Job is, in essence, “I am here, and I was here before you, and I will be here ahead of you. I am here, speaking to you, addressing you, seeing you, knowing you, redeeming you. I, the Maker of heaven and earth, am the same God who draws near.”

One scene in the movie takes place at a funeral, in a church. The text for the sermon is the same one we have heard this morning. And you can hear the priest say (and by the way, in real life, the priest in the film is an Episcopal priest who helped write the words he would perform!), “Is there some fraud in the scheme of the universe? Is there nothing which is deathless? Nothing which does not pass away?”

And at that point the camera slowly pans away from the character sitting in the pew listening, who has endured and will endure so much grief in the course of the story — the camera pans up to a stained glass window where we see the LORD of Israel who spoke to Job — the LORD as a human being, the man Jesus, bound with ropes, crowned with thorns, looking out from the glass with eyes of grief and unceasing love, ready to give His life for the world He had made.

It is He whom Job meets. It is He who is alive and here with us today, who speaks to us, who feeds us with His own Body and Blood.

Amen.

[pada-viya]

“This is what I learned in Wales: The Iron-Age Celts considered dusk to be the beginning of the day, the moment of greatest potential. It was what they called a thin time, when seen and unseen worlds overlapped and became porous. (They also believed there were thin places too—the Neolithic megaliths, in particular—where it was possible for mortals to pass into the world of gods and the dead, and vice versa.)

I find this idea of thin places and times most useful in suggesting metaphorical possibilities rather than actual ones. “They appear,” says Irish scholar and curator Ciara Healy, “when the separate worlds we co-inhabit overlap and become simultaneously present in our mind’s eye.” Or, also in her words, “when we are capable of inhabiting more than one worldview at the same time.”

I love that: When we’re capable of inhabiting more than one worldview at the same time.

It is dusk’s quality of thinness that bends our minds toward environmental empathy, and that’s what interests me. In the half-light, the simple task of seeing requires both stepping further into the self—with memory and imagination supplying what our eyes can’t—and stepping away from ourselves in order to more carefully probe the otherness visible around us. Dusk is like holding a yoga pose; you must extend and retract simultaneously. Viewed through this lens, dusk does nothing less than demand our full and wholehearted engagement with place.“

[sciencespies]

Our Ten Most Popular Stories of 2020

https://sciencespies.com/nature/our-ten-most-popular-stories-of-2020/

Our Ten Most Popular Stories of 2020

SMITHSONIANMAG.COM | Dec. 30, 2020, 7 a.m.

The year 2020 will go down in history as one of the most extraordinary in modern recollection. A devastating pandemic dominated conversations and our coverage, which detailed why the race for a coronavirus vaccine runs on horseshoe crab blood, explained how to avoid misinformation about Covid-19 and drew lessons from the past by examining diaries penned during the 1918 influenza pandemic. This summer, when a series of protests sparked an ongoing reckoning with systemic racism in the United States, we showed how myths about the past shape our present views on race and highlighted little-known stories about the lives and accomplishments of people of color. Toward the end of the year, amid one of the most bitterly divisive elections in recent history, we delved into the lengthy debate over mail-in voting and the origins of presidential concession speeches.

Despite the challenges posed by 2020, Americans still found reasons to celebrate: Ahead of the 100th anniversary of women’s suffrage, we profiled such pioneering figures as Geraldine Ferraro, the first woman nominated as vice president by a major party, and Fannie Lou Hamer, who fought to secure black voting rights. In the cultural sphere, the discovery of dozens of intact Egyptian coffins thrilled and amazed, as did the reemergence of a long-lost Jacob Lawrence painting. From murder hornets to Venice’s new inflatable floodgates, Catherine the Great and the Smithsonian’s new open-access platform, these were Smithsonian magazine’s top ten stories of 2020.

Our most popular story of 2020 underscored the value of skillful art restoration, presenting a welcome counter to the many botched conservation attempts reported in recent years. As the National Museum of Scotland announced this December, experts used a carved porcupine quill—a tool “sharp enough to remove … dirt yet soft enough not to damage the metalwork,” according to a statement���to clean an Anglo-Saxon cross for the first time in more than a millennium. The painstaking process revealed the silver artifact’s gold leaf adornments, as well as its intricate depictions of the four Gospel writers: Saint Matthew as a human, Saint Mark as a lion, Saint Luke as a calf and Saint John as an eagle. Per writer Nora McGreevy, the cross is one of around 100 objects included in the Galloway Hoard, a trove of Viking-era artifacts found by amateur treasure hunters in 2014.

Curators used an improvised tool made of porcupine quill to gently clean the cross, which features engravings of the four Gospel writers.

(National Museums Scotland)

While most of England was on lockdown during the Covid-19 pandemic, archaeologist Matt Champion unwittingly unearthed more than 2,000 artifacts beneath the attic floorboards of Tudor-era Oxburgh Hall. Highlights of the trove included a 600-year-old parchment fragment still adorned with gold leaf and blue lettering, scraps of Tudor and Georgian silks, and pages torn from a 1568 copy of Catholic martyr John Fisher’s The Kynge’s Psalmes. Detailing the find in an August article, McGreevy noted that British nobleman Sir Edmund Bedingfeld commissioned the manor’s construction in 1482; his devoutly Catholic descendants may have used the religious objects found in the attic during secret masses held at a time when such services were outlawed.

In March, when the world was just beginning to understand the novel coronavirus, researchers learned that the SARS-CoV-2 virus—the pathogen that causes Covid-19—survives for days on glass and stainless steel but dies in a matter of hours if it lands on copper. (In later months, scientists would find that airborne transmission of the virus carries the greatest risk of infection, rather than touching contaminated surfaces.) The metal’s antimicrobial powers of copper are nothing new: As Michael G. Schmidt, a microbiologist and immunologist at the Medical University of South Carolina, told writer Jim Morrison this spring, “Copper is truly a gift from Mother Nature in that the human race has been using it for over eight millennia.” Crucially, copper doesn’t simply dispatch unwanted pathogens at an incredibly fast rate. Its bacteria-combating abilities also endure for long stretches of time. When Bill Keevil and his University of Southampton microbiology research team tested old railings at New York City’s Grand Central Terminal several years ago, for instance, they found that the copper worked “just like it did the day it was put in over 100 years ago.”

The Asian giant hornet, the world’s largest hornet, was sighted in North America for the first time.

(Washington State Dept. of Agriculture)

Another unwelcome surprise of 2020 was the rise of the Asian giant hornet, more infamously known as the “murder hornet” due to its ability to massacre entire hives of bees within hours. The first confirmed sightings of the insects in North America occurred in late 2019, but as Floyd Shockley, entomology collections manager at the Smithsonian’s National Museum of Natural History, pointed out in May, observers need not panic, as the hornets don’t realistically pose a threat to human health. Honey bees are more susceptible to the predators, but as Shockley said, “[I]s it going to be global devastation? No.” Still, it’s worth noting that officials in Washington state have since found and eradicated a nest thought to contain about 200 queens. Left unchecked, each of these hornets could have flown off and started a colony of its own. Efforts to contain the invasive species are ongoing.

In October, an engineering feat saved Venice from flooding not once, but twice. The barrier system of 78 giant, inflatable yellow floodgates—known as Mose—can currently be deployed to protect the Italian city from tides measuring up to three-and-a-half feet high. Upon its completion next year, Mose will be able to protect against tides of up to four feet. The floodgates’ installation follows the declaration of a state of emergency in Venice. Last year, the city experienced its worst floods in 50 years, sustaining more than $1 billion in damages and leaving parts of the metropolis under six feet of water. Built on muddy lagoons, Venice battles both a sinking foundation and rising sea levels. Despite the floodgates’ current success, some environmentalists argue that the barriers aren’t a sustainable solution, as they seal off the lagoon entirely, depleting the water’s oxygen and preventing pollution from flowing out.

While Hegra is being promoted to tourists for the first time, the story that still seems to get lost is that of the ancient empire responsible for its existence.

(Royal Commission for AlUla)

Desert-dwelling nomads turned master merchants, the Nabataeans controlled a broad swath of land between the Euphrates River and the Red Sea for some 500 years. But in the millennia following the civilization’s fall in the first century A.D., its culture was almost “lost entirely,” wrote Lauren Keith in November. Today, little written documentation of the Nabataeans survives; instead, archaeologists must draw on clues hidden within the empire’s ruins: namely, two monumental cities carved out of rock. One of these twin settlements—the “Rose City” of Petra in southern Jordan—attracts nearly one million visitors each year. But its sister city of Hegra remains relatively obscure—a fact that Saudi Arabia hopes to change as it shifts focus from oil to tourism. As several scholars told Keith, the Middle Eastern nation’s renewed marketing push represents a chance to learn more about the enigmatic culture. “[Visiting] should evoke in any good tourist with any kind of intellectual curiosity,” said David Graf, a Nabataean specialist, archeologist and professor at the University of Miami. “[W]ho produced these tombs? Who are the people who created Hegra? Where did they come from? How long were they here? To have the context of Hegra is very important.”

The May killing of George Floyd spurred nationwide protests against systemic injustice, acting as a call to action for the reformation of the U.S.’ treatment of black people. As Smithsonian Secretary Lonnie G. Bunch wrote in a short essay published in June, Floyd’s death in police custody forced the country to “confront the reality that, despite gains made in the past 50 years, we are still a nation riven by inequality and racial division.” To reflect this pivotal moment, Smithsonian magazine compiled a collection of resources “designed to foster an equal society, encourage commitment to unbiased choices and promote antiracism in all aspects of life,” according to assistant digital editor Meilan Solly. The resources are organized into six categories: historical context, systemic inequality, anti-black violence, protest, intersectionality, and allyship and education.

Human relationships can be difficult, but at least they don’t involve copulating until your inner organs fail. Yes, you read that correctly—death is the unfortunate fate for the male antechinus, a pint-sized marsupial that literally fornicates until it drops dead. Take similar comfort in the fact that humans don’t need to drink urine to start a relationship, as is the case with giraffes, nor inseminate each other via open wounds, as bed bugs do.

Today, stories of Catherine the Great’s salacious, equine love affairs dominate her legacy. But the reality of the Russian czarina’s life was far more nuanced. Ahead of the release of Hulu’s “The Great,” we explored Catherine’s 30-year reign, from her usurpation of power to her championing of Enlightenment ideals, early support of vaccination and myriad accomplishments in the cultural sphere. As Meilan Solly wrote in May, “Catherine was a woman of contradictions whose brazen exploits have long overshadowed the accomplishments that won her ‘the Great’ moniker in the first place.

For the first time in the 174-year history of the Smithsonian Institution, the organization released 2.8 million images from across all 19 museums, 9 research centers, libraries, archives and the National Zoo into the public domain. This initial release represents just two percent of the Smithsonian’s total collection, which boasts 155 million items and counting. It was part of an ongoing effort to digitize—and democratize—the Institution’s collections.

• An excerpt from Jennet Conant’s new book, The Great Secret: The Classified World War II Disaster That Launched the War on Cancer, in which she details how an investigation into a devastating Allied bombing of an Italian coastal town eventually led to an innovation in cancer treatment.

• A time-capsule story from the end of March about how and when we thought the pandemic might end. We were too optimistic about how long Americans would need to “flatten the curve,” and unmentioned in the story was how soon a vaccine would be developed.

• Another entry in our “True History of” series that looked at Tom Hanks’ World War II film from earlier this year, Greyhound

• An exploration of new research that rewrites the demise of Doggerland, a prehistoric land bridge between Britain and Europe

#Nature

[finsterforst]

𝐒𝐮𝐭𝐭𝐨𝐧 𝐇𝐨𝐨: 𝐄𝐱𝐡𝐢𝐛𝐢𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐮𝐧𝐢𝐭𝐞𝐬 ‘𝐠𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐬𝐭’ 𝐀𝐧𝐠𝐥𝐨-𝐒𝐚𝐱𝐨𝐧 𝐝𝐢𝐠𝐬

Finds from two of the greatest Anglo-Saxon excavations in the UK are being brought together for an exhibition. It will be held at the National Trust's Sutton Hoo visitors centre, near the site of the burial mound in Suffolk said to belong to King Raedwald.

The exhibition will bring Sutton Hoo discoveries together with items from the Staffordshire Hoard found in 2009. It has been put together by guest curator Chris Fern, an expert in the Staffordshire Hoard.

Work to excavate Sutton Hoo started in 1939, while scholars believe the treasures found in the Hoard could have been made in workshops in the Anglo-Saxon kingdom of East Anglia. Mr Fern said: "It is wonderful to see these objects - the pinnacle of craftsmanship in their day, astounding in their artistic genius - returned to the kingdom of East Anglia where their story began.

"Through them we can glimpse a time when warriors and kings in widespread regional kingdoms fought for supremacy in an age of gold and of the coming of Christianity."

Laura Howarth, archaeology and engagement manager at Sutton Hoo, said: "Seventy years separates the discoveries of Sutton Hoo and the Staffordshire Hoard, but both have illuminated our understanding of the culture and society of this golden age of Anglo-Saxon England."

Opening on 14 May, "Swords of Kingdoms: The Staffordshire Hoard at Sutton Hoo" will be on display until 29 November.

[ellerevelle]

okay so im feeling crazy and detached again (as usual lately)

but instead of spiraling into absolute fucking panic, I’m deciding to take today to just ... not wholly subscribe to this manner of thinking BUT. JUST FOR NOW. I feel like taking some of the craziness flack off myself and blaming it on some shit outside of myself. Because feeling this weird and detached cant all just be me. So here’s a brainstorming of whats got me fucked up, in no particular order: 

Trump is our stupid President

That guy who told me he loved me daily and asked me to be his girlfriend after basically living with me immediately after meeting me and I fell for hard despite a ton of red flags CHEATED on me while I was away visiting home. 

And then blamed it on MY bad communication? fuck that guy. 

But now I see one of the girls he slept with (multiple times, three days in a row) I see her everywhere all the time in everyones instagrams, at everyones parties... ugh. 

Um. People are dying. Close to me. More importantly and spefcifically women I love are dead. 

I didnt get to see Inga before she died. I was too busy forging a relationship with CHEATER GUY. Didnt get home in time to see her. Talk to her. 

Grandma. This has been the whole first year without her, come November. Its subtle, but terrible and I hate it. She was my last matriarch. The last woman who’s blood is in me. 

because Mom’s dead too. And has been since August of 2015. 2015, right? God it feels like forever ago now, probably because I’ve pushed it away. She died unexpectedly and NO ONE IN MY FAMILY HAS SAID THE WORD SUICIDE OUT LOUD even though thats what happened. She OD’d on prescribed opiate painkillers to escape her depression. And we NEVER talk about it. 

So I kindof feel insane. Not talking about things that are clearly there. Like, are they not clearly there for anybody else? Now all my women are gone. My brother literally avoids talking about feelings. My dad is a little more receptive but is more the comforting type than the forthcoming, express onesself type. Getting sentimentality out of my brother is like pulling teeth sometimes. But yet if his son does something cute, its God’s Work and he cant help but cry and get that beautiful lovie squishy look on his face. 

I’m jealous of my own nephew. I see the way my Mom loved me, in the way my Brother loves his son. And I miss being that perfect to somebody. My Dad loves me forever and always and there isnt a word for how grateful I feel for our relationship. I dont take that for granted at all. It actually kindof scares me because... hah, well what if Dad dies? Like, before I’m ready? I’ll be even MORE fucked! 

Anyways. Austins been pissing me off. I’m sorry but although Polyamory is possible and cool and im sure quite beautiful for many, 

The Austin poly scene is fucked and tainted and a bunch of slutty people having orgies and not TALKING about anything and its ruining the healthy vibe poly is incumbent upon. 

So, whatever I’m angry. So fuck that noise. 

I feel like because of cheater guy and my anger at the psuedo poly orgy sexy bullshit scene in Austin, I feel like I’ve broken up with a whole group of friends. Like, I dont want to be around any of it. I dont want to see you eat mushrooms and twerk. I dont want to see your stupid, super naked outfit. I dont think its hot you carry a flogger or can pole dance or slink around like a tarantino character. It used to be hot and thrilling and fun, when I felt like it was connected and for love and sharing and caring. But now it all just is slutty and vapid and useless and cold. Like a sad clown. And thats not sexy, its dark and desperate. *this is about both VERY particular people and broad general strokes. There are several extremely amazing friends in the scene and outskirts thereof that truly inspire me and dont fall into this catagory in my mind, although they’d probably still be angry with me for dissing things ^^ the way I just did but. fuck it, this is MY journal entry and I can be irrational if I want to. 

You cant be open fucking minded ALL the time. Sometimes people really arent acting with anyones best intentions but their own. I’ve used up SO MUCH FUCKING ENERGY making myself soften and open and “woke” and trying to go with everybodys flow. And I’m exhausted and over it. I have my own principles and theres nothing wrong with having differing opinions than someone else. 

All summer I’ve been feeling like I’m a bad person for not liking or not understanding this hyper sexual scene in Austin. I thought, “why am I shaming a scene thats giving me opportunity to really shine and be free?” when, in an IDEAL world, yes thats what the scene could be. But in what actually fucking unfolds -- humans SUCK and dudes SUCK and girls SUCK and everybody (especially when horny) are fucking STUUUUPIIIIIDDDD and ideals get thrown out the window! people arent nearly as “woke” as I gave them the actual credit for. Seriously. So! I’m fuckin OUTTIE! 

I’ve felt broken up with a whole scene. FUck cheater guy, fuck poly, fuck orgies, fuck people who are reckless with my love. 

Back to the list:

I’ve been eating too much out of boredom. Which I’ll blame on lack of quality social interaction in this town. Where are the scholars? Where are the sexy edgy BRAINY people? I’m tired of hot people in little clothing in the summer. 

Ah! Another thing for the list. its been TOO FUCKING HOT OUT. FOR MONTHS. 100 DEGREES FOR MONTHS. thats enough to make anyone insane. 

So i’m sick of teenie boppers in their nothing outfits in the heat. 

I want old smart people in peacoats. I miss books and weather and frowns. Irritable debates about literature or physics or religious theories. 

I only like my own brand of cigarettes. 

My roommates are annoying me. I dont really like my house anymore. Theres too many humans and not enough square footage. Four people to one kitchen is TOO MUCH SHIT. EVERYONE BUYS THEIR OWN BANANAS AND THEY ALLLLLL GO BROWN ON THE TABLE. thats four peoples worth of bad bananas. FUcking stupid. 

I dont have a hairdresser here. Sometimes when I feel shitty I like to throw money at the problem. Buy something. Get a haircut. See a show. Etc. 

And my hairdresser love is in Philadelphia and getting a flight to get a haircut is slightly insane (without a longer visit)

I miss Adam. 

What else can I blame my upset on. Shitty politics, shitty weather, shitty social sexual scene in my town, I dont like my house, I dont like my hair. Its too expensive to live here. No one in my immediate acquaintance or friend circle seems interested in the sort of romantic relationship I’m seeking, nor if they did does anyone have the “it” factor I look for which I’ll *try* to describe maybe in another post. 

So. I sit inside my room and try to fix stupid remedial things as if itd make a big impact. I tidy and put away clothes in attempt to feel less cluttered but am too scared to make BIG cuts and BIG changes. So instead I light insence and watch netflix and eat too much. I have started going to Barre3 again more and have been semi regular with therapy so thats something. 

I really ought to start doing “morning pages” like the book Fiona loaned me suggests in its FIRST GODDAMN CHAPTER. But, alas, I am lazy. 

No, I have become recently lazy. 

I’m spoiled. I dont do things I dont want to do. Its a major character flaw. I only push and struggle if I see worthyness in it, and lately theres been serious lack of evidence of that in, well, anything.

 #depression! 

so, I guess in summation- because nothing has been a WORTHWHILE struggle, EVERYTHING feels like a struggle. Humph. thats... thats not good. But it does, because i dont see the worth in a lot of goals or tasks or even relationships, (and i dont mean the greedy “what can I GET for ME out of this!” sort of b.s.) (I mean the... conserve precious energy, is this going to teach me something or help me grow as a person or bring love into my life sort of vibe) ...

when I dont think the energy expenditure is going to pay off, I dont do it. Or I do it half way or lazily or with tentative fear. I guess I could do an experiment and just do everything with HOPE and see if my energy put in will get a different result... but. like. I feel like I did that all summer and he cheated on me. And my “friends” said “dont be angry, be poly” and I couldnt call on my Mom or Grandma and so I call on eating and isolation and running away to visit home where no one cares I dont have a job. where the house is big and the air is cold and my friends are smart. 

I really miss Kristian. That was one of the greatest feelings of self love in my entire life. I felt like, if someone that special noticed ME. Saw ME. Little old, semi chubby, not famous ME, and wanted me around for a couple tour dates. Then I ought to believe in myself TOO. I wanted to dance, I wanted to make art, I wanted to take photos, I wanted to be bold, I wanted to be humble, I felt so open and content with myself. I was motivated to work out, I was motivated to eat healthy and clean and small portions. It was easy. It felt so fun. I loved him. I dreamt big. My imagination was so warm and excited. My inner critic was GONE. 

But he faded away. He got back with his ex. The shooting star left the sky. I’m still grateful for the experience at all, but. 

I feel a little stupid for thinking anything could’ve happened. 

And I truly miss feeling so special and excited about life. 

I dont want to run away from Austin out of fear. But I cant tell if I’m unhappy and want to leave genuinely, or if this is the spoiled part of me thats like, “this sucks, lets leave.” instead of pushing though, curating something better with some struggle, and sticking it out. 

How do people make big life decisions like this? I feel like thats what marriages do. People stay together and fight. But sometimes they get divorced anyways, its just been longer. More years wasted. When maybe it wouldve been healthier to leave sooner and cut the cord and be free to live without, sooner. 

I really like a lot of things about this city. But I really dislike a lot too. And I cant tell where I want my life to go, in a grand sense, so its hard to pick which attributes will matter in the long run. 

I dont think I should leave yet. Maybe a new house. Or like, serious efforts to declutter this one. Is this just excuses? Ugh. 

Declutter this house. If that doesnt feel better, leave the house and move to a new part of austin. If that doesnt feel better, leave austin. 

I need a job. 

[post-itpenny]

“Llamas are nature’s greatest warriors.”

Yay meeting new people!!!

The little pocket dimension felt very much like entering some odd cross of Grecian palace and a museum. It was quiet save for soft taps of people’s shoes. Servants and visitors, scholars from across the universe who had for some reason or another had been grated across to the most extensive archive in existence.

Nigel always had very mixed feelings visiting the place.

It was quite snazzy if he did say so himself,  polished marble floors with velvet curtains. A ceiling mural depicting the night sky of every major galaxy. Carefully curated objects and information. One could spend a lifetime pouring over the knowledge these halls held.

He would have loved to have spent a day or two soaking in some of the more interesting wings but unfortunately he had an appointment.

The higher he climbed the more magnificent the rooms became. Older and more extraordinary the collections until suddenly there were none at all.

Just books.

So, so many books.

Books that were kept in such pristine condition but somehow Nigel knew they had all been read countless times.

At last he reached a large library that was different from the others. A section had been cut off by long curtains that were currently open revealing a luxurious bed, vanity, and wardrobe.

In front of these curtains was a desk at which sat a secretary filing her nails.

She was beautiful, a golden light seemed to radiate under her skin. Her hair perfectly done, not a single curl out of place. She turned to Nigel with eyes that shone like twinkling stars.

And stuck her tongue out.

Nigel rolled his eyes as he approached the desk. “Afternoon Venus.”

“Hello, hello Sirius Darling.”

“How many times must I tell you I prefer Nigel?”

Venus tsked, “big brother Nigel simply does not roll off the tongue. Now you are late for your meeting.”

Nigel looked at his pocket watch in confusion, “why only by a minute!”

Venus shook her head with a delicate frown. “Late is late. Now the most luminous Elder of Knowledge is not one for tardiness you know this. Come, come,” she motioned as she stood and walked to the gilded doors at the other end of the room. Her sequin dress shimmering in the light.

Nigel made a gagging motion behind her back, “Are you his secretary or groupie? You seem to blur the lines please do remind me which it is?”

They entered a grand set of private rooms. On a balcony looking into a telescope at the shining bright sky was a proud looking man in a long silk coat and breeches.

Gold eyes looked upon Nigel. “You’re late Sirius.”

“Only by a minute sir,” Nigel pointed out, not willing to correct his name.

Canis Major gave a bored sigh as he strolled over to a desk covered in various documents.

“So tell me, how has your field work been progressing?”

Nigel grinned as he produced a set of papers, “wonderful actually! I’ve added quite a few new observations since we last spoke, and right in my backyard!”

The elder scanned over the notes and rough sketches made by Nigel. His recent additions focusing on a set of apparently corrupted deadlights.

Canis Major shrugged, “it is not uncommon to find those of a cannibalistic nature amongst our kind.

“Ah yes but these two emassed well close to the two hundred range in their consumption. It seems the constant feeding had an almost negative effect at some point.”

The elder rubbed his chin. “Well the hunger for power often does corrupt. Tell me it saw here that the elder one was hollow when it died. Were you present for this?”

“No sir, my daughter and her family were.”

At this Vega perked up, “which one?”

“My dear Lyra.”

“Oh is that the one with the awkward sister-in-law?” Venus asked with a haughty laugh.

Nigel grew visibility uncomfortable, something that was not missed by the elder.

“Speak, what is it you are not telling me?”

Nigel cleared his throat, “my family has been going through rather difficult times recently and… well I know you aren’t interested in the details of personal issue-“

“I’m not.”

“Well sir. I must ask if you are not aware of the news?”

At this the elder’s demeanor shifted. He leaned forward, eyes hungry. “What new information do you bring me Serius?”

Again Nigel cleared his throat. “Well sir it seems the Elder of Sight has passed.”

There was silence. Canis Major seeming to freeze as he processed this information. Venus growing worried, “my dear sir?”

“Get out”

“I’m sorry?”

“Out!”

The siblings scurried from the room as fast as they could, back to the safety of Venus’ desk.

Venus gave a long sigh, “they were friends.”

“I know.”

The two stood in silence, from the other side of the door all was quiet as well.

Finally Venus sat down with a huff. “Well isn’t this just a bundle of spiteful llamas.”

“Well llamas are nature’s greatest warriors,” Nigel helpfully offered.

Venus turned to him in confusion. “Surely you can’t be serious.”

“Oh but I am Sirius, and don’t call me Shirley.”

Then two broke into a fit of quiet giggles. They truly drove each other crazy but as the end of it all they were siblings.

[grison-in-space]

What I enjoy about this is that we actually do have an incredibly accessible list of the presidential rankings made by political historians and scholars. Both C-SPAN and the Siena College Institute send out periodic surveys to US history scholars asking them to rank all extant US presidents in terms of best and worst, among other criteria, starting in 1983. There have of course also been other polls of US History scholars in terms of presidential rankings, stretching all the way back to 1948. Wikipedia, bless its heart, has a lovely archive of the results that is helpfully color coded by quartile, so you can see the patterns for any given president easily over time.

TL, DR:

None of these motherfuckers come close to the worst US president if you ask the people who develop, curate, and maintain our historical knowledge. For that, you generally see four (recently five) people jockeying for place:

Andrew Johnson, famously the first president to be impeached, took over for Lincoln after Lincoln was assassinated. Unfortunately, Lincoln chose the man more for his ability to try and clutch at some sense of American unity than for either his leadership skills or his decency, and Johnson spent his entire tenure as President trying to let the recently-cowed ex-Confederate Southern states have full rights reinstated and trying to undermine Reconstruction. Congress was not impressed.

Franklin Pierce, a northern Democrat who served two presidents before Lincoln, and who was pretty sure that the best way to achieve national unity over the increasingly violent and unstable American conflict over slavery was to try and strangle the burgeoning abolitionist movement in in its cradle. Pierce's greatest hits included the Kansas-Nebraska Act (which nullified the Missouri Compromise that had previously been holding things together), aggressively enforcing the Fugitive Slave Act, and dying miserable and alone of liver cirrhosis.

James Buchanan, the guy immediately before Lincoln and after Pierce. You may be noticing a trend here. Buchanan was also a Northern Democrat who was real cozy with the Southern wing of his party, in part because the Whigs had recently imploded and the opposition were still trying to sort themselves out. Buchanan was a career politician whose primary goal was winning personal power and juicy awards to pass out to his friends, and his instincts for conflict resolution between South and North were astonishingly poor: he is responsible for the Dred Scott ruling that briefly held that free states had to respect the slave status of slaves who were brought within their boundaries, attempted to welcome Kansas into the union as a slave state, and generally pissed everyone off even more than they already were.

William Henry Harrison, who distinguished himself in 1841 by standing out in the rain to deliver a speech on the event of his inauguration, catching pneumonia, and dying 31 days into his term. No one had really formalized what happens if the President up and snuffs it yet, so this threw the young nation into a bit of a tizzy and motivated some firm discussion on the order of succession.

and, of course, the fifth addition to this august company, Donald Trump, who has scored in four surveys since taking office: three times out of 44 candidates coming in at 44, 42, and 41, and most recently in the Biden years cruising in at 43 out of 45.

There. You're fucking welcome. By the way, FDR is consistently rated in the top 3, the only person besides Lincoln to consistently wind up there who isn't a Founding Father. Wilson's star has been badly falling of late as more people pay attention to the power seizing, authoritarian decisions he made and the sheer power of his absolutely staggering racism; he actually is noted on the CNN poll as the single president for whom the estimation of "did he advocate for justice for all?" has fallen 17 ranks in the past 20 years. LBJ generally comes in at high second quartile but has risen some over time. And Nixon is generally cited as a president who did many, many things, some of which are phenomenally good and some of which are phenomenally bad; he usually comes in at the bottom of the third quartile or the top of the fourth.

Reagan is somewhat polarizing depending, I suspect, on whose scholars are being asked. But he was ranked quite poorly until 1996 and is once more falling, so one has to wonder at what time the cult of Reagan rose sufficiently high to capture the academy. I rather suspect he will drop precipitously in the next thirty years. He's still not in the same company as the people whose actions have literally been kicking off civil war, but he ain't great either.

[robinjsmithwritespoetry]

Teaching Philosophy Statement Draft One

Teaching Philosophy Statement (Rough draft One)

In 2013, while pursuing my Master’s degree in English in southern California, I assisted and eventually helped to lead an upper elementary Montessori classroom in order to get some experience teaching. My colleague and first teaching mentor Mrs. Delahooke set the ground work for a long-lasting set of principles that I carry with me in my teaching practices to this day. Even though she had over thirty years of teaching experience at the time I knew her, she never let her lesson plans go stale. She reused and recycled much of the required knowledge California teachers were required to pass on to their students, but she never seemed to teach anything the same way twice. Everything seemed new and sparkling through her eyes. She was also extremely flexible, putting her students needs and interests first. It was a Tuesday morning and Mrs. Delahooke had carefully spent the weekend crafting a detailed lesson plan about the different ocean ecosystems, but our students wanted to learn about jellyfish.  She had spent hours detailing a fun day learning about the various food chains found within the ocean, but she listened to our students excitement about the potential of immortal jellyfish, and together she and I spent the hour discussing regeneration, while the students researched facts about jellyfish in the books we had available, and on their iPads. Later in the afternoon, while the children created jellyfish out of crepe paper and watercolor, Mrs. Delahooke whispered to me how important it was to follow a child’s curiosity and the potentialities that come from those interests. I hung the children’s jellyfish in an open window to catch the light, with long pieces of rainbow yarn and as they bobbed gently, it was a reminder that some lessons are not only introduced to us, by our students, but these lessons can be some of the most powerful. This was easily one of the founding tenements of how I was to structure my teaching philosophy moving forward in my career as a pedagogue and a scholar.

I wanted to put my students needs and interests first, this meant establishing fluidity and flexibility within my syllabi and lessons plans. I also wanted to engage and connect with my students by establishing a daily repertoire with them, getting to know them first as humans, and then students. Fostering collaborative learning was also incredibly important to me, setting up assignments so they would be completed in small groups, allowing for students to learn from each other, and about each other. I also deeply value feedback, soliciting feedback from my students on a microlevel everyday, and on a macro level twice throughout the semester before their SELFI (Student evaluations and learning feedback for instructors). This feedback helps not only future students with augmented assignments and new readings, but my current students to let me know how to best meet their needs, either on a technical and organizational level, or overall. Most importantly, my greatest teaching objective, is to embrace failure and to encourage my students to do the same. Drawn from J. Halberstam’s text, Queer Art of Failure, in which “success” is defined by the hypocritical axioms of a patriarchal and heteronormative environment. It was a daily reminder for myself and for my students, that minor success on assignments and in our professional lives, was in fact despite of and not because of the educational environment we found ourselves in. 

1.1 Fluidity and Flexibility

In order to best meet student needs and to incorporate their respective interests; as well as to respect their time as young adults navigating college and work lives, I find that is incredibly important to keep soft deadlines. Even though my syllabi are carefully mapped out for each respective semester that I teach, with in class text assignments, journals, major assignments, and curated readings. I carefully listen to the needs of my classroom and adjust accordingly. If there is a class wide struggle in say understanding Ta-Nehisi Coates  or Judith Butler’s writing, I will adjust my syllabus accordingly to spend extra time as necessary so that my students can feel comfortable understanding the text. This is assessed in real time through verbal and written participation regarding discussion of the text. Having had many professors who devote too little time to understanding the texts that we are expected to write on, I want to make sure my students can grasp what is being said. This also leads to stronger assignments later on in the semester. I am also flexible in what I assign to my students in terms of reading. After teaching Susan Griffin’s “Our Secret” for years, I felt last semester that both my students and I, were just over it. There was little engagement or enjoyment, it felt a chore to teach, so I scrapped it, and assigned something else, more geared towards their interests. My students felt relief, I felt relief, and even though I was expecting some pushback from those who had taken the time to read it carefully, they too were glad that we didn’t have to pursue that particular piece further. This is not to say I have abandoned Susan Griffin entirely, but in the middle of a pandemic, it was an exhausting and depressing read. Having the freedom to do this was incredible, and helped build a stronger bridge with my students. 

2.2 Engaging and Connecting with Students

In order to create an engaging atmosphere in my classes, I spend the first five to ten minutes of class discussing my students lives, pop culture, or current world wide events. Setting this time up everyday establishes an interest in my students lives and helps me get to know them on a more personal level. It also helps me gage what they are interested in talking about and why in the class. I usually direct the conversation after ten minutes or so to what we are learning in class that day, creating a shift between friendly chatty conversation, and towards our current learning objectives and goals. I also set up polls for my students to choose supplementary material to engage with in terms of the texts we are reading. When I teach the technology unit in my 130 composition class, I have my students vote on playing a “choose your own adventure” episode of black mirror, or comparing ted talks about tech. Giving plenty of options for supplementary material helps engage my students and also makes them in control of what they are learning in the classroom. I also in some cases devote days to watching films that support the texts we are reading and writing about. Going over basic film techniques, also allows for a foothold into analysis, Inglourious Basterds by Quentin Tarantino has always complimented well with Elie Wiesel’s Night or Michael Foucault’s Panopticon is well illustrated through V for Vendetta directed by James McTeigue. These films have given plenty of opportunities where students can analyze and read the film for subtext, word play, or silence. And pair with the texts they are reading.  Students are given a choice of what films they want to watch and to pair with each text we read in class which gives students a practical application for more esoteric ideas. It also adds an element of fun and play, which can be a welcome break to the complex and intricate ideologies they are reading in class.    

3.3  Fostering Collaborative Learning 

I find it incredibly crucial, no matter the subject matter of the class, to allow for group work. In my creative writing classes a majority of the early drafts of their creative work, would be given in small groups,  where I would pop in as needed to offer feedback. This would allow for an eventual trust of a biweekly whole class workshop where students would then feel more comfortable giving and receiving feedback. In my literature classes, I would adopt the workshop style, and have students meet in small groups to peer review their essays, or mark up an article relating to the text they were reading in class. These small groups also led to collaborative efforts to understand the text, making it easier for them to share in our class roundtable discussions the ideas and themes being presented. In my composition courses, some of the written assignments are large and technical, small groups being a convenient solution to breaking up large workloads, while also instilling the need to collaborate and work within teams. Each student had a assigned role within their group, and I make it so no one is penalized for not turning in their whole project. By not policing group work, but rather encouraging, students have more trust in each other and in me, and as a whole the class. 

4.4  Valuing Feedback 

 As important as it is to share good pedagogical models within one’s teaching experience and philosophy, it is also important to share negative experiences as they can just as deeply inform future output as the positive influences. During my PhD I had an advisor who loathed evaluations, telling her graduate students as well administration that evals were useless and harmful. Of course, there are many internal biases and conflicts to be found within student evaluations, and one should always remain somewhat critical, but simultaneously feedback is crucial to self-growth and improvement as a pedagogue. I encourage my students feedback, because my ego is not as important to my students ability to have a conducive learning environment. Everyday I ask my students for feedback on the lesson they learned, by simply asking if what we covered made sense in terms of the whole structure of the course, or if it was useful to them individually. Was it useful? Did you feel as if you learned something? Two incredibly simple questions that allow for me to make decisions in the future in how to tweak and improve things for the future. Twice a semester I ask my students for greater and more detailed amounts of feedback about the readings, assignments, and learning objectives. Because I ask everyday how a particular lesson worked for them, at this point trust has been built, I am here for them, not to punish them for having valid criticism about how the class is run. I am reminded that each class and each individual students have different needs, and that even my teaching objectives need to be carefully balanced. For example, my willingness to be open and extend deadlines, was admittedly a hamper to some students who need deadlines to motivate them. Or to others who want to know what to expect on the syllabus at all times. Keeping their feedback in my mind, I have done my best to both be flexible but also to encourage boundaries in my classes. Not allowing late work after a certain date, and committing to a solid timeline for major assignments, has dissolved this critique, but I make exceptions for individuals as needed. Feedback is an instrumental part of the teaching process and I want my students to know, that for every well thought out note I give them for their essays, poems, or project, I also anticipate constructive and well prepared feedback for the way in which I can help them learn better. 

5.5 Embracing Failure

More than anything I want to destabilize previously held assumptions (including my own) about the heteronormative canon, rural spaces, and queer identity. I want my students to lead the charge in this endeavor, by asking them to constantly question, and resist, and in some cases to return to the literary works provided to them. I do this by implementing J. Halberstam’s The Queer Art of Failure in my pedagogical technique and style. I don’t simply mean being aware of failure or embracing it, because it is inevitable in every circumstance of life, but being aware of the hypocritical axioms of the definition of “failure” and “success” in a heteronormative and patriarchal environment.  What a “success” story looks for someone who is not marginalized or privileged is often classified as a failure for those who are marginalized. Failure in this regard acts as a spotlight towards the unjust and hypocritical ways that those with privilege have “success.” Failure also acts as a tool to move past the need for hope of moving past or healing from these injustices, it sets up an appropriate framework for the ways, in which, we can actively plan for a better future. 

Failure in the classroom, is not just regulated to the way my students understand texts or the language that surrounds them, or how to write about them. Failure can also encompass the ways in which I have failed to understand my students and their needs, or even failed to understand the way modern university policies that run standard in many syllabi can restrict or even damage a students potential. For example, this semester I had a student who very rarely participated in class, this was because he preferred to think through the discussion and respond via writing, later, able to think through his thoughts. Stacey Waite wrote about this very problem in her book, Teaching Queer, in which she learned that one of her students didn’t adhere to the strict vocal participation policy by contributing to class discussion. However, he had good reason for doing this, more often than not his brother had been punished for not speaking up in class, though his brother could not work through his ideas until after the discussion was long over. Waite’s student resisted vocal participation for the way it can be at times draconically enforced. 

It was clear he was still doing the work, however, and this changed my attitude towards the ways my students can participate in class. Students can respond via journaling, or through a discussion board. They can also submit their thought anonymously, especially if I ask them to indulge opinions about the world that aren’t strictly about the class work. This type of participation is just as productive and sometimes more thorough than simply working through a class dialogue. Another failure that I embraced was the idea of two competing forces at play, me a liberal feminist queer person, and the majority of them young white Trump supporters. In finding a way to overcome our differences, I first had to figure out the ways we were similar. We all had similar taste in film, so I showed films that underscored their interests and the texts I was teaching in class. These movies offered them visual engagement and they were able to learn about different film techniques that they could then apply to the greater course themes of the class. 

I was able to find similarities in the need to be educated on both sides of the debate (what ever the argument was) and provided differences of opinions. Through marking our similarities we were able to overcome those differences.  The initial failure of not being able to get through to them, and their ultimate resistance to the texts I chose, was overcome in the end. It also helped me shine the light on how privileged this “success” was. If I were not a passing femme, or if I disclosed my sexuality, or if I was a person of color, this might not have been the outcome. Conversely, many of my male peers, have never had an issue with their conservative students as I have had. Despite, my ability to eventually earn their trust, respect, and admiration, it is deeply rooted in a space of privilege.   

I want my students to understand that the concept of “identity” as not fixed, it is changing and morphing, as they read. I want them to imagine the possibilities of not only the fluid nature of identity (queer and otherwise) and its possibility for change, but also how that relates to rural spaces, and  what it can mean for society at large. This philosophy and reflection will of course change, and fail, and hopefully at times succeed. However, this philosophy plans to disrupt the very core of the ways I have been taught how to teach, and the comfort zones I have grown to love, and the ways I plan on using resistance and return in order to not only allow for hope, but to actively plan for queerness to become the new norm, and to make its way into history, and tradition. 

In conclusion, I know that these objectives will ultimately change and shift as I continue my path as a teacher and a pedagouge. But it is also important to note that some ideas do not have to be ultimately radicalized and thrown out. I firmly believe and will always believe in a student first model. And am constantly surprised to see when this is not the case in other learning environments. I will try my hardest to overcome my own weaknesses, and embrace my own failures while teaching, all for the moment of discovery when a student comes upon an idea that i didn’t associate with the text. Or when class discussion tailspins into something unrelated but equally fantastic. I will always want to hang metaphorical crepe jellyfish on sunlit windows, and I will always want to connect to my students in any way I can. Even with the added challenges of political and ideological difference. This is established through building trust. Not only within my students but within myself in my abilities to lead a class and to adjust as necessary. 

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Custom,Cheap Essay Writing Service Usa

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