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| Pictures |
| (holly, 12 June 2009) I've put up a photo album on Facebook that anyone should be able to access here. Go have a look! Our tv is officially nothing more than a monitor for the DVD player now. How odd. |
| Apartment |
| (holly, 11 June 2009) Let's do another La Rochelle story and get the negatives out of the way. In this case, my apartment, which looked out over the ocean and the marina at Les Minimes. The advert for the apartment boasted that the place could sleep four comfortably on the bunk beds and double sofa bed. There was a kitchenette and the place was supposedly a 20-minute walk from the old harbor (and therefore, about 20 minutes from the archives). According to the map, it was even closer to the gare. It was certainly a cute little place, although I had a devil of a time finding it on moving-in day, dragging my luggage along the cobbled seaside walk, and the kitchenette was a wonderful thing to have. The reality, though, was that the place was absolutely horrible to live in. There were four very stiff wooden chairs around the table that looked nice, but were impossible to sit on for more than 15 minutes or so. I usually ended up dragging one of the plastic lawn chairs in from the balcony for reading. The "double sofa bed" was a futon of the cheapest quality I have ever encountered, with slats made out of wood slightly thicker than a paint stirrer. Twice I sat on it and heard slats splinter, so I opted to not sit on the futon. The "mattress" was a 3-inch thick piece of foam that allowed every one of those slats to be felt. I tried sleeping on it the first night and moved to the bunk beds for night #2. The bunk beds weren't much better, with the added bonus that they were about 28 inches wide, so when the cheap, foam mattress sank below the wooden bunk frame, it was like lying in a coffin. Rolling over required me to wake up fully and rearrange my body accordingly. Plus, the bunks were essentially stuffed into a closet where there was no air circulation. So far, cute apartment sleeps none, actually. Night three and I was running out of options, so I detached the foam futon pad from its cheap frame and tossed it on the floor. That was at least not painful, so for the obscene amount of money I paid for this place, I ended up sleeping on a crappy foam pad on the floor. Apparently, so does everyone else who stays here, because when I put the "mattress" back on the frame the next morning, I noticed a nice big spot of mold on the bottom where all the sweat and condensation seeped through overnight. Obviously, previous tenants just left the thing on the floor for the duration of their stay and never let it dry out. Yay. The kitchenette was a joy to have, once I cleaned all the black coffee gunk residue off every spoon in the place and spent a couple hours removing the disgusting build-up of scaly crap in the electric kettle. And the landlords brought over a microwave that actually work. And after I went out and bought a knife with a sharp edge. I was looking forward to hitting up the market and bringing all sort of wonderful things home from charcuteries, which would have been the order of the day if the apartment were actually 20 minutes from the old port. Well, the description wasn't entirely a lie, because you could see the old port after walking quickly for 20 minutes, but the reality of being steps away from the Gros Horlage and old port in 20 minutes was simply a fabrication. So walking to the market and bringing home wonderful things was pretty much out of the question unless I wanted to make two trips back and forth. There was a boat taxi that was handy, but it had a habit of not running when I needed it to. And the gare? It looks very close on the map, but the roads that make it close are not for pedestrians, so one needs to walk all the way to the old port and cut through a little park and a very busy intersection to get there. Well, the view and the balcony were the last bastions of pleasure for me in La Rochelle. I was looking forward to sitting out in the evenings and watching the sunset, however, Les Minimes is crawling with students and annoying tourists in campers and there was a nightclub directly across the street where infernal people would hang around all night and SCREAM. One night (when I had to be up at 4:45 in the AM to head up to Paris to fetch RB), the screaming disco kids got in a shouting match with some very drunk guys on a balcony directly across from mine. Around 2 in the AM, the balcony guys started screaming, "BON SOIR, MUZZAIR FUCKAAAIIIRRR!!!!" (which, I have to admit, made me chuckle, but still...) Apart from the one-night performance of the balcony guys, the screaming from the nightclub and the beach down the street went on every fucking night from the day I arrived. The windows were not double glazed, so every sound came right in (plus the walls were as thin as cardboard, so you could hear all the neighbors' business, as well). By the end of the first week, I had raw spots in my ears from sleeping with my headphones crammed so far in. The morning I had to walk to the gare at 6 in the AM, I carried my little kitchen knife with me because there were still so many drunks walking around the street. Miraculously, the day RB came, it was quiet. There was one evening of mild roughhousing, but we actually got to sleep with the doors open once. The upside is that there was beautiful light, a little grocery across the way had a very decent selection of edibles and a kick-ass wine section, so I did actually get to cook and drink some fine stuff. The place had a coffee press and I did learn to make a decent cup of coffee (even if it did take me three days to find somewhere that sold good ground coffee). And the fact that I was essentially out at the edge of the world ensured that I got some quality reading and writing done. It could have been worse, but I really don't have a favorable impression of La Rochelle. RB said it was like Florida, and I've been calling it Faux France. I'll certainly think twice about renting an apartment again in a place like this. Caveat emptor, indeed. At least I understand The Peace of God and feudalism better through enforced reading! Below, les portes du soir from my balcony.  |
| Archives |
| (holly, 5 June 2009) So, stories. I'll start with the archives, since that was the main reason I made the trip. The Archives of the Diocese are located in a quiet square literally steps away from the teeming tourist area that skirts La Rochelle's vieux port and its many overpriced eateries (the square is centered around the tower in the middle of the picture below). I found a good place for lunch and, never trusting my nerves or my ability to speak French reliably, I wrote down exactly why I was going to the archives so I could refer to my notes if necessary. I had some lunch and some wine, took a deep breath and headed over. There is a door that faces the square indicating that the structure represents the Catholic church, and there is a vague mention of archives. I had no idea what to do-- do I knock? Open the door and walk in? What the hell, I'm a foreigner and no Catholic, so I opened the door and stuck my head in, startling an elderly man at a desk just to the left of the door. I addressed him politely and said I would like to use the archives-- would that be possible today (I knew it would be, because I had already checked)? He smiled slightly and corrected my pronunciation gently and directed me to wait outside. I stepped out and figured I would never see anyone from within again, but he came out right after me, carrying a key. We walked around the corner of the building and he unlocked a battered door that opened into a lovely courtyard. I followed him into one of the surrounding buildings and we went up, up, up the stairs into a tiny attic room that was nevertheless filled with beautiful sunlight. The room was occupied by a young man with wild black, curly hair and beard to match, and an elderly woman who seemed more grandmere than archiviste. She was expecting me. I was so completely surprised by the homely state of the archive that I was temporarily tongue-tied in all languages, so I handed the woman what I had written over lunch and she swept everything off a table for me except for the index of Series F-- the oldest surviving set of documents for the ancient diocese of Saintes. I filled out a form explaining what I was looking for, the reason for my research and the name of my advisor. After that, I jumped into the index and began looking for something-- anything!-- I could use. There wasn't much, and what there was was from the 1600s, then the 1700s. I joked and said, "Ils sont tres moderne!" I went back and forth between the pages and finally, frustrated, asked, "Madame, where are the documents from the eras before this one?" She raised her eyebrows and turned her palms up, "Ils sont disparu." They have disappeared. And I knew this is what I would find, I knew about the fires and the wars and the looting before I ever dreamed of making this trip, but I really thought there would be something. I must have looked crestfallen, because she scurried back into the stacks and returned with an archival container the size of a boot box. She opened it up to show me the contents, a mixture of pride and "See? This is all that's left" in her gesture. Among the objects was a 17th century ledger that contained monetary contributions made by each of the churches in my dissertation and within their entries, the name of their monastic affiliation (if any), so at least I have a primary source to corroborate that much. But beyond that, there was nothing. I murmured again about modernity and she laughed and said something to the young man who was working at the table next to me. She showed him the form I filled out and he struck up a conversation in halting English that was better than my French. Turns out he had studied briefly at Notre Dame in South Bend and was working on 19th and 20th century issues with the church. He sympathized with me because of the destruction of so many medieval documents and we talked about how to responsibly reconstruct history when there is no surviving proof one way or the other. The old woman (who spoke very fast) seemed thrilled to have two people using the archives and talking about what they found there. Shortly before I left, the archivist Pere Bloem phoned from Puillboreau to check on things and the woman told him what I was working on. I had hoped to speak with him in person, but he was not in La Rochelle and I don't know that he could have told me anything I didn't already know. I transcribed the information I needed and thanked the woman profusely for her help. Then down, down, down the stairs I went and into the courtyard. Where I could not, for the life of me, find the door to get out. I had to go bother a nice young woman in a nearby office for help. She let me out and I went from the solemnity of the tiny Archives of the Diocese back out into the eternal hustle of the tourist trap that is La Rochelle.  |
| Reviens |
| (holly, 2 June 2009) Alas, I've returned. Didn't care for La Rochelle and the archives revealed a rather depressing reality (the entirety of the surviving documents of the old diocese of Saintes fit into an archival box the size of a boot box-- with room to spare), but my love affair with the Saintonge was confirmed and all I can think about is how to get back over there to stay for a long, long time. RB was equally taken with the place and the people. We had some wonderful interactions, got to visit some of my old favorites and a new one (St. Hilaire le Grand in Poitiers). Having no internet connection for two weeks was surprisingly wonderful and I am reconsidering my attachment to it here. I'm putting together a photo album in Facebook, but everyone should be able to view it. I have lots to tell, as it was an intense couple of weeks, but I'm wrestling with culture shock and all the crap that was waiting patiently for me to come back. Simply put, I'm burned out. More soon, though.  |
| Bye! |
| (holly, 13 May 2009) Tomorrow is the day! Forced excitement there, because you know how much I love traveling. I can't wait to be in France again, it's just the getting to where I need to be that gives me trouble. No internet in the apartment, so updates will be scant if any-- but I will certainly give it a shot and pictures will follow. Today is wrapping up loose ends and periodic weeping. Please to be sending all the "stay in the air" and healthy lung thoughts you can muster. See you soon! |
| Baybeeee |
| (holly, 6 May 2009) The mourning dove couple who took up residence in our unused hanging basket on the front porch hatched their egg today. I caught just a glimpse of a wobbly little grey head when the dove on watch was perched on the edge of the basket checking out the new arrival. It should be getting ready to leave the nest for good right before I get back. Hope it sticks around a little-- I want to see it fly. Also, nothing says "batshit insane" to the neighbors like excitedly saying "Congratulations!" to a hanging basket. Will someone just come and pack my fucking clothes for me, please? Oh, hell yeah. I love the look and the concept of The Twist portable espresso machine. How does it work? Whip-its? |
| Busted |
| (holly, 5 May 2009) With the sounds of Shop-vacs... Ten to six on Friday morning, our neighbor calls to tell us RBs passenger window on the Mazda has been busted out. We ran outside to our driveway to find it so. Then we checked the Jeep parked on the street. Passenger window also busted. Neighbor and I took a walk down the street-- all cars but two had their passenger windows busted. On our street alone, five in the street and five parked in driveways had passenger windows broken and next to nothing stolen. We lost our stereo from the Jeep and RBs special Devil Lady tin of Altoids (who the hell steals Altoids???). Up on Fourth Street, another ten or so cars got the same treatment. As luck would have it, the deductible for the Mazda is more than the cost of the window, so we're out $300 for both vehicles. Glass replacement dude came Saturday morning as I was walking Murph. Coming back from the walk on the other end of the street, I thought,"Wow, that guy's Shop-vac is really echoing down here." Then I realized there was another glass dude working on a car at the other end of the street. A couple neighbors were standing by and told me that the street to the south of us had been hit the night before, and fourteen cars got it. In the past four days, this end of the neighborhood has been punctuated with the constant whirr of Shop-vacs as the glass replacement guys get their own stimulus. According to the police, this is the seventh such mini-crime spree in the city-- they pick random neighborhoods and hit each one hard for a couple nights before moving on. Apparently, they wedge a screwdriver in the side of the window and use it like a lever to put the entire window under pressure and then push with elbow or hand on the center of the window. The whole thing shatters silently. What annoys me the most is that not one of these incidents has been reported in the newspaper. Mini crime sprees targeting random neighborhoods and no one sees fit to put a heads up in the paper? WTF, H-T? Regardless, every dog on this street is on occupational probation for not uttering a single bark. A neighbor said they hoped the cops caught the guys before someone in one of the neighborhoods did. I feel like I should have a bucket of pitch and some pointy sticks at the ready for angry villagers. Leaving next week! EEEEE!!!! I really need to start thinking about clothing, seriously. My days have been broken into little three-or four hour chunks of time among which I distribute reading, writing, working on the bibliography project, and cleaning up this disgusting house for Jen and Tony (yes, each room requires three or four hours of cleaning-- sometimes with both of us on the job). Oh, and the garden. I've been reading a couple of the works by the archivist at La Rochelle, so I hope I get the chance to actually speak with him, because I have a list of questions. Whether or not I can understand his answers remains to be seen (although I have total faith in the Michel Thomas cds I've been working with to improve my oral/aural language skills). lol. God, I'm boring, aren't I? |
| Drunkery |
| (holly, 26 April 2009) RB and I ventured out and about during Little 500 weekend on our hybrids to run errands. It was actually a lot more enjoyable than if we'd driven-- bikes are squirrely and can get in and out of traffic easily on the clusterfuck that is the Eastside. We hopped up on the sidewalk on Third Street next to campus to avoid the traffic jam caused by several hundred drunken examples of some of IU's finest students (I'll let you decide the level of sarcasm there) from three adjacent frat houses who had spilled out into Third Street, replete with a kilted bagpiper. I'll admit, it was amusing to see what was going on, but only because we had the option to get the hell out of there and cut through campus before the stupid got too close. Not so much fun were the many bleary-eyed late-morning drunks who spotted us on our loaded commuter bikes and felt the need to run out to the curb, screaming "LIL FIIIVE!!!! WOOOOOOOOO!" (and once, "BOOOBIES!!!!") before collapsing in a heap. I could pull a hair for the Little 500, but the upside is that the town gets cleaned up quite a bit due to all the busted party animals who probably don't even remember why they're picking up trash on a hot Sunday morning. Another grad student's perspective here reminds me how glad I am that my class this semester was a first-eight weeks class. |
| Gak |
| (holly, 21 April 2009) Oh, Chapter 2, how I love researching you, yet hate writing you. In the back of my brain, this increasingly loud voice is reminding me that I have no employment or insurance come the end of my final teaching gig in August. Not sure what I'm supposed to do at this point, besides keep plugging away at this dissertation so I can hold a doctorate in several months' time while I work for $6 an hour at some shop or other. Someone remind me why I've done this to myself? The bibliography project is saving my sanity right now, and I totally dig working with the material and the project head, who is a long-time medievalist idol of mine. Being on a first-name basis makes me a little heady at times. And for no reason, here are 121 versions of St. James Infirmary Blues. |
| Deets |
| (holly, 10 April 2009) Looks like Poitiers has a couple things that might be of use to me. I was planning on taking a day trip there with RB, but I think I should take advantage of la médiathèque François Mitterrand's Saturday hours and go by myself and read all day. It's a little pricey, but the train runs directly from La Rochelle to Poitiers (about an hour and 20 minutes), which means I can stay until late in the day. Last time, I had to catch a bus at the ass crack of dawn from Pons to Ângouleme, and then a train from Ângouleme to Poitiers. It took hours and the connections sucked as far as timing and stress. But I think that's partly a control freak issue on my part. The part that makes me crazy is trying to figure out how the library works: is it open stacks? Do they have OPAC machines just sitting around? Do I need to show ID? Am I supposed to ask someone at the reference desk what to do? I suppose this last option is the best, which means I'll have to read everything from an index card and hope that six months of listening to nothing but French internet radio every day will have paid off and I can understand what they say back to me. The more I build the framework of this chapter, the more looking closely at Poitiers makes a lot of sense. It was a huge seat of power that trickled down immensely into ac-Land (because every other village name ends in "ac" down there). Also going to go to Corme Écluse, which I missed the last time. RB will be along for that trip and that will be so nice, not only because it's awesome to ride those kinds of roads on a bicycle, but also because Corme Écluse is kind of out in the middle of nowhere and it does get kind of freaky being out there alone on a slightly-larger-than-one-lane road surrounded by nothing but vineyards or grain crops as far as the eye can see, especially when you're at least ten miles from anything that could remotely be called a town. It was like that riding back from Talmont and I don't like to be that nervous when I ride. So having my usual riding partner out there will be amazing, not only for the shared moments of revelation that occur on a ride, but for the extra sense of security and the added bonus that two heads are better than one. Visualizing how a trip like this will play out is time consuming. I think about it constantly while I read local histories and when I build the chapter's structure. The upside to that is that I know exactly what I want to see and what I hope to find while I'm there. Oh, and, goat cheese!!! |
| Louer |
| (holly, 6 April 2009) I have a lovely little apartment on the sea. In France. That seems kind of weird to me. Even more weird is that I can't wait to make a cuppa in my little kitchenette and sit in front of my open French doors surveying the marina. I am also looking forward to the bunk beds. I'm sure I will prefer the double fold-out, but I was deprived as a child and never got to have a bunk bed. I hesitate to utilize the top bunk for anything but storage for my new, pretty, red suitcase-- I think we all know something bad would happen if I got up there. No internet in the apartment, but this is probably beneficial to me getting shit done while I'm there. Thanks to the infinite kindness of Jen and Tony, who will be staying in our home with the animals, RB is able to come over the last week in May. I'll have to run up to Paris to fetch him, which will be a long day, but it will be the first time in sixteen years we've ever been on a trip together. Lots of planning happening right now, details to come because this is fun! I am terrified about going to the archives. I think that makes me some sort of freak of nature medievalist. I'm half afraid of finding nothing and half afraid of finding a whole lot. |
| Carver |
| (holly, 27 March 2009) The monumental"Vittoria Alata" by Chicago stonecarver Walter S. Arnold is a joy to behold. As are his workroom sink and fireplaces. Also, how a grotesque is born. Via the always excellent The Lion and the Cardinal As much as I was prepared to be disappointed, I can't help but feel intrigued by the trailer for Spike Jonze's adaptation of "Where the Wild Things Are". That they've used Arcade Fire's "Wake Up" just makes it that much more intriguing. |
| Continuing |
| (holly, 25 March 2009) Well, if there's an upside to losing the furry brood one by one, it's that I will have an awesome little collection of cremain receptacles by the time they are all gone (hey, I'm trying to be upbeat). I've commissioned a Classically-styled lidded amphora for Vlad from the fabulous Megan Ratchford-- pics to come when it's finished. I think it will do Vladdy proud. I may well finish the first half of the Huge Bibliography Project for World-Famous Collection today. I will definitely need new glasses after this. I need to start setting some definitive dates about France so I know what to wear. |
| Vlad |
| (holly, 17 March 2009) I have no doubt that we could have weathered renal failure, but the lymphoma came as a terrible surprise. Thank the powers that be for veterinarians who come to the office late at night to help dearly loved friends escape their pain. There is a deafening silence in our household tonight.  Vlad Paddington the Bad 1997-2009 |
| Continued |
| (holly, 16 March 2009) This is tough. And tougher still because the vet tells me that Vlad is doing exactly what he should be doing, as sick as he is (and he's pretty damn sick). That picture below, from Friday? He looks ten times worse than that now. He can't even stand up that straight. And yet he's alert and just strong enough to lay open my palm this morning. He's vomited forcefully and copiously twice today (I did two loads of laundry before noon!) and I wish I could just wash him in the sink with good ol' soap and water, but I'll make do with warm water and a washcloth. His abdomen glugs like a jug of water when I move him-- apparently liquid in his intestines waiting to come out (OMG! I can't wait for that one!). I've managed to get 38 ccs of k/d stew down him, but I'd bet most of it came back up. Dr. Vet said to start giving him Ensure, which I think is probably a similar solution to Fortol that John mentioned in the comments from Friday. The vet said it was going to be a rough couple of weeks while he detoxifies, but he really didn't seem pessimistic at all or think that Vlad's going to die (not now, not from this). I just can't imagine living through being as sick as he is. The nursing schedule alone is wearing me out (on top of, you know, my work). If there's a happy ending to this, I'm having a hard time seeing it, but I'll keep trying as long as Vlad does. We continue to appreciate your thoughts, well-wishes, and advice). |
| Result |
| (holly, 14 March 2009) Well, nothing like being woken up on Friday the 13th by the vet leaving a message on the machine. All I can say is thank goodness my class ended last week, because this is consuming most of my time at the moment. Vlad went back to see him (with Jen and Tony as extra staff-- thanks guys!) yesterday morning and the poor guy is a mess. There are three major area of concern, the first being his kidneys. Fortunately, the blood tests show that his renal problems aren't terrible or very advanced and the vet is optimistic about keeping things balanced with diet, so he's on k/d for life. Second, his thyroid is underactive, but the vet seems to think that a month of meds and taking care of problem Three will cause the thyroid to readjust itself. So the main concern of the bunch is... Problem three. He appears to have some sort of massive infection somewhere. His white blood cell count was 48,000 (normal is about 10,000), but again, the vet optimistic (although cautioning that cancer is always a possibility-- which, believe me, never leaves my mind). He also believes that the infection is what is affecting his appetite, and Vlad does seem to respond positively to antibiotics. So I have 10 days worth of Baytril (which I credit for keeping Clovis alive for many years) in addition to 7 days of anti-inflammatory and a month of twice-daily thyroid pills. Four pills a day plus some Benebac to keep his gut healthy-- he's not happy with me this morning. He got a jab at the vet's, came home and slept in his carrier for a few hours. I took his new food out to the kitchen and was surprised to see him trying to crawl onto the chair next to the counter (he knows what cat food in the bag sounds like!). I set him up on the counter, offered him some dry and canned and, to my great joy, he tucked right in. He threw some of it up later, but he ate considerably more yesterday than he has in the past few days. Today, he doesn't seem to have an appetite, but he's also been moving around the house more (instead of just lying in one spot) and so I think he just doesn't have the energy to eat yet. The pilling alone this morning wore both of us out. But he's sleeping on the buffet right now, lying in the sun, so I'll let him recharge a bit and try again until I get something in him. He fortunately loves to drink, and if he hears me pouring the Brita pitcher he'll come staggering right over, so he seems to be taking care of that. The vet actually commended him on his hydration efforts and was pleased to hear that I'm an old hand at giving sub-q and have a bag of ringer's and the necessary trappings under the sink. He's only had three accidents-- he really makes an effort to get to the box. I've thought of "quarantining" him in the bathroom where he can have everything he needs right close by and it's super warm, but he seems to enjoy (I think) being out here with the rest of us and watching everybody go about their day. And lest it sound like he's on the mend and doing so much better, it's not like that at all. If you've met Vlad in person, you'd be shocked to see him in this state, as am I. I could never in a million years have imagined him like this. So all these positive little steps are miles away from where he should be, and it's going to be tough to get him there. I welcome all good thoughts and any advice you have for nursing. I'm leery at this point of taking him away from the k/d beyond some chicken broth or maybe mixing a little bit of something into the k/d, but I'd love some advice on getting him eating. I know his little tum must be the size of a peanut right now, but I'd really like to get some nutrients and calories in him. Thank you all for the comments and the well wishes-- I truly appreciate it. I leave you with the high point of my week: yesterday's carnage of the k/d.  |
| Waiting |
| (holly, 12 March 2009) Housecall doctor couldn't make it this week, so we took Vlad back to Dr. #2. The fact that he didn't scream "Renal failure!!!" when he examined him was encouraging, but I'm waiting for the results of the blood tests. We're looking at liver, kidneys and thyroid. I'm rooting for the thyroid. Although, I know from Thomas's illness that a clean blood test means nothing if there's cancer involved, so my expectations are guarded all the way around. Nevertheless, here's hoping for a lucky Friday the 13th tomorrow when I call for the results. The good news: RB got Vlad to eat about a tablespoon of chicken broth and another table spoon of broth and cooked chicken all ground into a sort of baby food. Small steps seem like giant ones today. |
| Backsliding |
| (holly, 11 March 2009) Well, apparently Vlad's sunny diagnosis was too good to be true. He continues to deteriorate and last night, he peed on the kitchen floor in a manner suggesting that he had no control over the situation. He's moved from under the futon (and for a couple wonderful days after his vet visit, actually on the futon) to underneath the microwave stand or the skirted chair in the kitchen. After doing some reading last night, I'm thinking renal failure, in which case, why the hell didn't either vet spot this? He's a 12-year old cat who's been brought in by his owner because he's not acting right and is losing weight-- hey! Let's check for kidney problems! How hard would that have been? I have a call in to the housecall vet to come see him. We'll see what kind of prognosis he has. In the meantime, Vlad could use some more good thoughts. |
| NAHBS |
| (holly, 6 March 2009) We went to the North American Handmade Bike Show (NAHBS) in Indianapolis last weekend and I need to sort through my pictures and post some here, because there were some beautiful machines there. It was a near-religious experience and I was thrilled to see so many randonneur and touring bikes coming to the forefront. One thing I found amusing was that all of the bikes that had me drooling and ready to sell an organ to buy were from Portland. The more I thought about it, the more I realized that the reason I like those bikes so much was for their utilitarian thoroughness. The bikes I loved the most were designed for people you use their bikes as the main transportation, and so every rack, cage, hub, light, basket, etc. is there because it's useful. My favorite bike in the whole show came from Ahearne Cycles in Portland-- I didn't ask the price, but the one sitting next to it at the show was just over $6k, so I'm thinking this one would be about the same, or at least close enough that I can't even dream about it until I land a proper job. Here's the blue beauty from the side:  Yes, it has Dura Ace downtube shifters.  More to come. I've just finished grading for my eight-week course and am now ready to start my "sabbatical" of working on nothing but reading, writing, and working on the bibliography project. Oh, and France is sneaking up on me, too. |
| Relaxed |
| (holly, 26 February 2009) This is the second time in a year we've rushed Vlad to the vet for not being "right." The first time, the vet said there was nothing wrong with him. This time, I was more concerned because he (seemingly) suddenly became a bag of bones, retreated under the futon to sleep on the register 24/7, had a serious decrease in appetite and was apparently so constipated he would vomit foam while trying to poop. Given the apparent severity of the situation, I assumed he had some sort of tumor or horrible renal problem and was fully expecting him to be dead by the time I got home from teaching yesterday. Amazingly, he appears to 1: Have a lot of fur in his belly that was blocking up his intestine a little and causing intestinal spasms (he's not a puker, so the hair has to come out the other end). 2: Be getting older and needs some more fiber and moisture in his diet. 3. Really enjoy having a super warm kitty cave under the futon. I asked about his drastic change in personality in the past few months, going from an extroverted punk who once climbed up the back of my big rocking chair using Sandra's hair as a ladder, to a timid little guy who hides a lot and sometimes seems to forget where he is. The vet said that non-debilitating mini-strokes are common in older animals and that they can cause personality changes like this. So it's just getting used to one of the young ones not being so young anymore. It's interesting how differently they age. Vlad's only around 12 and he's quickly becoming a frail old man, but Carnaby's pushing 16, bouncing off the walls, and yelling at anyone who sits in her spot without her express consent. So one injection of intestinal muscle relaxer later, Vlad seems to be on the rebound for the time being. Another upside is that we really liked this vet. I've been concerned since our long-time vet died in 2005 and we've not found anyone we like as much until now. So crisis averted and some security for the critters gained. Bonus! It was a long couple of days, though. |
| Dread |
| (holly, 25 February 2009) Boy, nothing clears out a room full of cats like assembling a cat carrier. Prayers for Vlad, please. |
| Nope |
| (holly, 14 February 2009) Thursday, I got a thin envelope from the SLAC in the Pacific Northwest at which I applied for an awesome faculty position last month. So thin envelope, I know what that means. I left it unopened until yesterday when I was sure my thick skin was in place. Turns out that it wasn't so much a rejection letter as a "Sorry, we're hanging up this search for the time being" letter. I was momentarily relieved-- at least it wasn't a comment on my skills and abilities (or desirability as a faculty member). But thinking about this further, it's even more bothersome because I can change whatever is not marketable about myself, but if the positions are not there because departments are on fiscal lockdown, well then, I'm pretty much screwed. I thought my timing was bad when I finished my MA/MLS in December 2001, on the heels of 9/11, but coming out as a new humanities Ph.D. in this current environment may just take the prize. This is not the kind of change I was hoping for. I don't know why, but I think the works of Colete Calascione are appropriate for Valentine's Day. Particularly this one. |
| Lux |
| (holly, 4 February 2009) Lux Interior has died. This one stings a bit. |
| Balance |
| (holly, 29 January 2009) Wow! What happened to January? I finally got my work for the editing/bibliography project and there is some strange, dark part of me that just loves that kind of repetitive, anal detail checking. I get sucked into it for hours at a time. The money's a real treat, too. Good crop of students. No one's dropped, and since it's an 8-week class, they're not likely to at this point. Grading is going to blow. There are a lot of them and only one of me. A couple weeks ago, we grabbed Jen and Tony and went up to Indy. Took a bunch of pictures of some downtown architecture. I remember Indy being a real hole, but the downtown area has some really nice points. Click here to see some of them. I was pleased with some of my shots. And then I found uliveandyouburn's "No Promise of Safety" and my mind was blown. I don't how he manages to get where he goes without being a little insane, but he sure takes awesome shots when he gets there. Here's my version of a cool boss or shield under the cornice of a building in downtown Indy:  Here's his version. Read about how he got up there. I'm thinking he might be Batman. |
| Departure |
| (holly, 16 January 2009) Andrew Wyeth was one of my favorite painters. His work reflected a sort of dreamlike quality that remained completely realistic, unlike the fabricated hyperrealism incorporated by the earlier Surrealists (whose works I also like). His work had the ability to pull me into the composition and transport me to whatever destination he laid out on the canvas. |
| Variety |
| (holly, 5 January 2009) Of Bibliophilia and Biblioclasm. In honor of second-hand books. An important 13th-century artifact or a fake? Celtic Art and Cultures is an interesting site. I'd like to see it expanded. Great headline. Fabulous index of Tom Otterness sculptures in the NYC subway system. Actually, Otterness had a decent exhibit in Indianapolis a few years ago, and a couple pieces remain outside the convention center. I mention this because RB took me up to Indy on Saturday to see his office and I was struck at the myriad examples of great architecture and public art that punctuated the downtown area. Things have changed immensely in the downtown area since I lived there. I'd love to spend a day walking around and shooting a few hundred pictures. If nothing else, I need to get back up there and shoot Chakaia Booker's tire sculptures before they go away in April. I took a few pictures from the rooftop lounge where RB works (notice the Brutalist monstrosity in the background on the right. Yikes!),   The next warm Saturday, I'd like to go spend the day shooting. |
| Beginnings |
| (holly, 1 January 2009) That bastard 2008 is behind us now and I'm looking forward to starting a new chapter in my life, getting on with the things I went to school for in the first place. RB was blessed to land a wonderful job that he really likes in October, so he is secure. I hope I land on my feet after my teaching obligations end in August. This isn't a great time to be looking for a position in my field, but I'm great at what I do and I have many interests and talents, so I'm confident I'll find something to get me through this rough economic time. I have such hopes for 2009. Happy New Year, everyone. Here's to new beginnings!  |
| Re-revising |
| (holly, 29 December 2008) Well, I'm well pleased with the cover letter, but the teaching philosophy statement just will not behave. |
| Rinceaux |
| (holly, 22 December 2008) This frost pattern has been growing in a corner of one of the living room windows since last night, so I'm claiming it as my birthday present. It's amazingly Romanesque. How in the world did those little dots in the middle of the branches form? It's supposed to warm up in the next couple days, so I'm taking tonsa pictures of it before it disappears. Beautiful, innit?  |
| Progress |
| (holly, 11 December 2008) Two chapters ready to turn in next week One chapter nearly done, save some tweaking and tightening. One chapter ripped down to the foundation, ready to be redone (this one hurt, but I know exactly what to do with it now). One chapter awaiting research in France. Seems that I really will toss the ring into Mount Doom this year. I can't wait! |
| Shiny |
| (holly, 3 December 2008) Oh wow. I spy with my little eye a great job with a great course load, perfect teaching philosophy, and in exactly the location I want to be. And I mean exactly the location I want to be. Starting right around the time I defend. What the hell. I'm going for it. |
| Unwonderful |
| (holly, 1 December 2008) Thanksgiving should have been wonderful, but it wasn't. Nothing says "Happy Holidays" like being driven to tears for four days. Apologies to my guests who withstood the funereal atmosphere at the feast and my frequent forays into the kitchen to cry. This year cannot end quick enough. Fortunately, RB sent me a link to the following video, which is the correct proportions of sureally terrifying and delightful (kind of like the Cat in the Hat himself) and which cheered me up immeasurably. I love the tail. Incidentally, "Cat 1" refers to the top tier of racing cyclists (as well as this guy). |
| Wonderful |
| (holly, 25 November 2008) Two wonderful things: 1: The Abominable Charles Christopher. I can't stop reading this. 2:The Rape of Europa aired locally last night. What a remarkable show about the hideous destruction and theft of art (and decimation of cultures via these acts) by the Nazis. See the trailer here. Mind boggling moments include the discussion of the boot print on the face of Leonardo's "Lady with an Ermine"; the recollections of the trembling wings of the glorious Nike of Samothrace as she was moved down the stairs of the Louvre on a makeshift ramp of boards; the footage of the bombardment and utter destruction of the monastery of Monte Cassino; and the group of art historians and others on their knees at the Campo Santo in Pisa, gathering up the millions of fresco fragments from the destroyed walls (mind you, the Allies contributed the latter two examples). Fascinating show-- track this down and watch it. |
| Dump |
| (holly, 21 November 2008) A brief history of chocolate, food of the gods. Oh, and gobs of Minoan information. Working model greeting cards. I really like Daniel Mitsui's work. His customized bookplates are extra fabulous. I'd like to work Joel Long's Broken Windows at Reims into my next lecture about Reims Cathedral. A great exploration of the Llanbeblig Book of Hours. The large views of each leaf are wonderfully detailed. |
| Jambonanza |
| (holly, 17 November 2008) I have a little link dump I'll toss out tomorrow or Thursday, but today I just want to talk about my pizza I made (and eated) over the weekend. I was jonesing for a nice, crispy French-style pizza with ham of all things (horrors!). RB makes good dough, so he made each of us a crust to decorate as we chose. I made the sauce from about four ounces of tomato paste, 2 Roma tomatoes mushed by hand, a couple teaspoons of olive oil, gobs of fresh basil and oregano, salt, pepper, and a clove of garlic. Perfect! I spread a thin layer of sauce on my half-baked crust, added basil leaves and Black Forest ham. Covered that with a thin layer of mozzarella, then added tomato slices, more basil, and topped it off with shredded parm. It was absolutely delicious. I ate 2/3 of it and had to assume the banqueting position (yet continued to devour the rest of it). I was in pain for the rest of the night.  And I realize I have just blogged about a ham pizza. But damn, it was an exceptionally good ham pizza. |
| POTUS |
| (holly, 4 November 2008) Yes we did!!!!!  We have the coolest president in world. |
| WTF?!? |
| (holly, 4 November 2008) Indiana is too close to call?  |
| Sad |
| (holly, 3 November 2008) The weather today was just like it was one this day three years ago when we took Thomas for the final trip to the vet. Unbelievable that it's been three years and I still miss him. RB came home from work and told me that the pet store where we buy everyone's food burned to the ground this morning. They were only able to save about a dozen animals. Most of the puppies and all of the resident store cats died. I hate this day. Please vote tomorrow if you haven't already. Once you get there, please stay in line. If you don't know where you vote, check here. I'm so mentally exhausted from this election and the attendant worry. I can't wait to pop the bubbly tomorrow night. |
| Ghoulish |
| (holly, 31 October 2008) The Centquatre is an all-media arts center in a 19th century building that used to be the municipal mortuary for the city of Paris. I see Tricky is an artist in residence and played a gig there a couple weeks ago for the launch party. I don't know anything about the visual artists, but I love the space. Dream Anatomy is a fantastic site that takes a look at how humans have looked at their insides over the centuries. Make sure you see the whole gallery. Great stuff! So far there have been two groups of well-costumed kids come down our street. We have Snickers bars and Reese's cups. Both groups looked at our cute little house with the pumpkins all lit up on the stairs and kept right on going. Fine. It's okay. Go trick or treat for nasty circus peanuts and Neco wafers! This delicious chocolate candy will be eaten regardless!!! |
| Stuff |
| (holly, 21 October 2008) Modified money at de-noted. Some of these are extremely clever. KFC chicken bone "art" is simultaneously hilarious and really gross. From Dartmouth: Geometry in Art and Architecture. McCain loses impromptu fourth debate with cardboard Obama. "Cardboard Obama was a more formidable opponent than expected." |
| WTF |
| (holly, 20 October 2008) Oh my. I've just graded the first exam of the semester and I'm shocked. Frustrated. Completely baffled. I've never had results quite like this. There is a nice chunk of good, solid "A" work, a "B" or two, a couple "C"s (by people who should have known better). And then we fall into an unnatural abyss. I've never had so many crappy exams in a class. Even in a large survey class, I don't think I've had this many "D"s and worse at one go. It wasn't a difficult exam. I created a study guide with all the terminology they needed to know and explained how I wanted them to study (even provided examples of questions that were actually on the exam) and put up a Powerpoint presentation that was 50% images on the exam. Told them exactly which three readings to review. And they either got it (some really impressive A work!) or they didn't (how do you lose 77 points on a 100 point exam???). People who should have been getting lowish "B"s got spectacular "D"s. It was obvious that they hadn't done the readings, it was obvious they don't take good notes (or don't get the notes from others when they skip). What do I do? Give them back with those grades? Just about everyone missed one particular question, which was worth five points. Actually, I don't think anyone got it right. There were some really good answers, they just weren't the right one. It obviously was not as good a question as I thought it was. Should I refund everyone points for that? That would get me more into the usual distribution zone. But then, is that fair to the people who obviously busted their collective hump to do well? Is this grade socialism??? Am I spreading the points around too much? Bleh. Seriously, though. I'm mildly pissed that so many people didn't bother to do the most rudimentary studying. I'm starting to dread the research papers. I'm happy to say that I don't know most of these memes. I can't believe this has been around for five years. Glad to see Boston Dynamics' Big Dog on the list. |
| Roadtrip |
| (holly, 17 October 2008) With RB's new job (and long commute) starting next week, we had to pop over to Cincinnati to pick up his new (well, a like-new 2006) better-than-the-Jeep-for-commuting car (zoom zoom!!!). After an entire day of driving, I'm purt near sick of Indiana and Ohio. Yeesh. I'm so ready to go. The car is a delight, though. Black, of course. Byzantium. The Royal Academy of the Arts is hosting a most fabulous exhibit of Byzantine artifacts covering an impressive scope. Wish I could see this. Sacred Destinations explores "sacred sites, ancient wonders and religious places of the world." Wonderful photo galleries and smart, brief articles. In addition to the usual suspects, there are some unexpected treasures (to me, anyway) featured, like the Hallgrimskirkja in Reykjavik and Gamla Uppsala in Sweden. |
| Please |
| (holly, 16 October 2008) Donate or volunteer... Because John McCain considers a woman's health to be part of a fictitious "pro-abortion" extremist movement because John McCain thinks Sarah Palin is an acceptable role model for women because John McCain wants to "change the culture of this country" because John McCain thinks that people coming out of the military should be teachers without having to meet state qualifications or getting a proper education because John McCain thinks education is the new civil rights (whatever the fuck that means) because John McCain considers eloquence and honesty to be faults because John McCain referred to the assassination of JFK as an "intervention" because John McCain thinks the Obama campaign is all about "class warfare" because John McCain doesn't understand the difference between autism and Down Syndrome because Joe the fucking Plumber (who practices without a license) is a wingnut who has had liens filed against him for non-payment of taxes, a record of domestic abuse towards his wife, and is related by marriage to Charles Keating and I never want to hear another thing about him ever again... Please donate five or ten bucks (or whatever you can rustle up) to the Obama campaign. Use my button over there on the left or go to the Obama site and do it there. Let's keep pushing. This is too important a battle to lose. |
| Dogs |
| (holly, 12 October 2008) As we were walking Murph yesterday evening, I notice a bit of rainbow peeking from behind a tree in the cemetery. When we crested the hill, we saw it was another sundog. I hobbled home to grab my camera and managed a couple good shots. This display contained a sundog on either side of the sun, but lacked the one directly above. You can see the brighter of the two sundogs just above the pointy tree. Isn't that cool?  Then we went up and had a good romp. Murph clotheslined RB's leg good and proper with his leash while they were ripping around. It looks like he's been flogged. Shameless dog bloggery below. Clicky. It'll make you smile:  |
| Obama |
| (holly, 8 October 2008) Some impressions from the rally today: 1. So many young people! Teenagers, 20-something, pre-schoolers (who wanted to be there and were excited about it). 2. Holy crap, that was a lot of people! 21,000 is the estimate I heard. Very loud. All different colors and socio-economic groups. It was amazing (seriously). 3. Obama is such an excellent orator. He has such a calming rhythm when he speaks. I do disagree with him on issues, but he doesn't grate as badly as he might when he talks about them, so I'm willing to listen. I'm fairly confident he would do the same for me. 4. Obama has such a sense of honor and dignity about him. It's as if he sees himself as a vehicle for his ideas and behaves accordingly. I don't know how to express that better. It's something I've noticed on TV, but was really apparent seeing him in real life. 5. People have such love for this guy, it was really fascinating to watch. Actually, RB and I both got a little teary-eyed when his motorcade pulled up. It was kind of odd. Excitement and all, I guess. Although when he took the podium, Obama started with "I love you back!!!" When's the last time a politician said that and meant it? 6. The extreme left is just as hateful and distasteful as the extreme right. Yuck. 7. I love the idea of kids doing a couple years of service after high school-- peace corp, military, volunteerism-- and getting college (or at the very least, a sense of worth and great experience) in return. Love it. 8. He addressed education towards the end of the rally. It's one of the most important issues to me, but I understand that people want to hear about the economy instead. Still, it would have been nice if people hadn't started leaving when he began to discuss education. It was rude and made them look stupid. Maybe they are. 9. The prayer at the beginning of the whole shebang (before Obama arrived) was presumptuous. I was there for a political rally, not a church meeting. A bit from the rally can be seen here. The transcript of the speech as he rehearsed it is here. The interview he did with Charlie Gibson immediately after the rally is here (and so, so good. Watch it!).  |
| Varia |
| (holly, 6 October 2008) RB and I voted early today and picked up our tickets for "preferred seating" (whatever that means) to see Obama speak in Indianapolis on Wednesday. I'm really stoked and in the mood to be moved and inspired. I'm off crutches and down to limping with the knee brace, so I should be able to deal with the situation. Hope there's an enormous crowd! When I was in NOLA, RB emailed to say that our landlord had completely decimated the stand of grand, old Lynwood forsythia that grew along the south side of the house and provided not only a great place for birds to sit (where the cats can watch them), but also a modicum of privacy for us while we're sitting on the futon. A good chunk of the retaining wall where they were planted fell in January and while I was in New Orleans, took out the forsythia (and a weigela that I can't even think about right now)and tore out all the wonderful, old limestone blocks and rebuilt the wall with those nasty prefab, roughed-up concrete blocks that fit together like Legos. It's extremely well-built and he added a terraced area for planting, but it still looks very "manufactured house in the suburbs" tacky to me and doesn't fit this 1920s cottage at all. I miss my forsythia and my gigantic wine-colored Weigela outside the window, and I'm sure the birds do, too. He put a lot of the dirt in a part of the south yard that is really quite lovely as it is, which has changed the shape of that part of the yard and messes with the way the gardens there are arranged. It all looks crooked and awkward now. That whole side of the house feels violated and very inorganic now. Ah well. We won't be here forever. Still, after eleven years, it would have been nice if we had been consulted before this project was started. Patrick Dougherty's sapling installations are fabulous. "The Curated Object is a non-profit media project interested in decorative objects and those who find our engagement with them compelling." |
| People |
| (holly, 29 September 2008) Home again, home again, jiggity jig. NOLA was a strange experience. The conference itself was pretty fraught with errors and "snafus" (as seemed to be the official word) and a generally unfriendly (or maybe just uncaring) organization committee. My paper was well-recieved, although the stress and self-doubt leading up to its presentation ended up making me a little sick, so I thought my delivery left a lot to be desired. Plus I had a hoarse, sick voice and I didn't feel like I was in control of the presentation. But the few people who attended my session really liked what I had to say, so yes, I think I'm on to something special. There. I've claimed it in public. It's mine. New Orleans was... interesting. Some of the architecture was very nice and I particularly liked the little Creole cottages in the French Quarter. The history was also very interesting and during one tour of a period house I had a hard time wrapping my mind around the whole ugly reality of slavery while we were standing in the slave quarters discussing the prices that were paid for human beings. For the most part, though, it felt like a big tourist attraction that was trying so hard to be something unique and while I understand that NOLA is clawing its way back from Katrina, I'm not sure that's what annoyed me about the place. The cemeteries were just like the French cemeteries I've visited, but not as old or interesting (but much more dangerous, apparently), the Garden District seemed like a larger version of the Emily Kimbrough District and Minnetrista Boulevard in Muncie. Really, doesn't any town of a certain status have an area of Victorian excess? Bourbon Street was repulsive with its nudie clubs, barely legal hookers, drunken frat boys and endless junk shops and bars. It smelled perpetually of vomsorb. After two days, I'd seen what I wanted see and was highly annoyed with the dying amusement park atmosphere and the ridiculous prices charged for everything. I was ready to give my paper and leave. I hardly took any pictures, because I felt limited to shots of 1) neon bar signs 2) French-style architecture with Spanish-style iron balconies 3) Creole cottages 4) trolley tracks (or an occasional trolley). 5) The river, barges and a big bridge. It wasn't a place that inspired me to try and capture imagery. The people of NOLA, on the other hand, were probably the nicest, most open and genuine folks I have met in my life. I didn't meet a person I didn't like. Everyone was so helpful and friendly. Everyone asked where I was from, what I did there, what I'd seen in NOLA, had I eaten here or seen this or that, isn't Sarah Palin an idiot? They are really the salt of the earth and I enjoyed talking to complete strangers more than anything else about the trip. I don't believe I've ever had an experience like that before. I got sick on Friday and was feeling pretty bad on Sunday, but we were heading for home, so that was good. During the flight boarding in NOLA, I stood up to let a lady into the row (I was in the aisle seat) and bent my knee completely backwards again, undoing what I have just spent four months trying to heal. The rest of the trip was spent in a fair amount of pain, being shuttled around in wheelchairs (including the fairly scary "aisle chair" that fits down the aisle of the plane. Yes, there are a ton of straps). I have to admit, I got a certain perverse satisfaction in Memphis when I had the honor of making the impatient first class... oh, I'm sorry, "Elite Passengers"... wait to board the plane because everyone had to wait for the chair to be taken back off the plane before anyone else could board. The whole ordeal was embarrassing, exhausting, and painful. It was also just damn depressing and frustrating because it took so damn long to get to this healed and now I have to start over again. Fuck. On the Memphis to Indy flight, a very stylish and articulate woman sat next to me and asked what had happened. I explained and then morphed back into a bag of misery with my head leaning against the window. At some point during the flight, she brought out her laptop and started writing. I snuck a peek and related to what she was professing (very motivating stuff), so I smiled a little and went back to looking out the window instead of nosing in on someone's private musings. As we circled in preparation for landing, we started chatting and she gave me her card with the name of her colleague in Bloomington written on the back. Turns out, she is a doctor who works strictly with alternative methods of rebooting the nervous system in order for the body to heal injuries and stay well-- things that I haven't been able to do in years. We spent the next twenty minutes or so talking about the medical profession and I expressed my belief that I have been utterly failed by my doctor and how I feel like I'm broken. She knew exactly what I was saying and explained what was most likely happening with my body, including my thyroid and metabolic weirdness. It makes absolute sense. Of course when I got home, I looked her up online only to find that she's kind of famous and does everything she claimed. I'm actually pretty excited about talking to her colleague here and she left me with her phone number if I wanted to speak with her. She had a very calming and sympathetic manner and it was a very intense and interesting conversation, for as short as it was. How odd that the best parts of this trip were all dependent on the people I met. I really can't ever remember enjoying interacting with people as much as I did in the last five days. |
| Guh |
| (holly, 22 September 2008) All-consuming plane fear. And what if my paper is really, truly horrible? But the plane fear... yeah. I need to get this under control before Wednesday morning. |
| Peace |
| (holly, 19 September 2008) When I was 15, my mother (in an attempt to make my life as miserable as possible) dragged me off to the Oldenburg Academy of the Immaculate Conception, where she threatened to make me finish out high school. I don't know why. Maybe being a top-notch student who stayed home in the evenings listening to the Clash and doing my homework was a bad thing. Who knew? At any rate, impending enrollment at the convent was intended to be a punishment for something, and my hands shook and my feet felt like lead as we approach the walled grounds of the girls' school and convent. Once we were inside the gate, I was struck with the beauty and peacefulness of the place. The structure of daily life was so appealing to me, the rigorous aspects of studying, the kindness of the sisters (who did not beat me senseless when I bum-rushed the chapel altar because I had never seen anything so magnificent before), the deep sense of quiet, inclusive community all appealed to me at some core level that I still cannot explain today. Although I was not raised Catholic and I lack some sort of organized religion gene that prevents me from ever converting, the idea of a somewhat eremetic life (or at least a cloistered one, in a loose sense of the word) has always appealed to me. I fell in love with the idea of monasticism with that trip, fell in love with the school, fell in love with the sisters themselves. Sadly, when my mother saw how deeply I was affected by our visit there, she withdrew her threat and I never saw the inside of the Academy again. For the next couple years, I tried to figure out how I could become a nun without actually being Catholic (or even a Protestant Christian, for that matter). I've never found an answer, although I still wonder how different my life would have been if I had just been allowed to explore the possibilities an educational experience like that would have afforded me. People always laugh when I mention that I wanted to be a nun when I was a teenager, but it's the absolute truth without a hint of a punchline. I bring this up now because I lectured on monasticism yesterday and frankly, I was dreading it. It's not a topic that most young people care one bit about (in my experience) and I had a lot of background information to get through regarding the establishment of the Benedictines and failed economic policies of Cluny without a lot of imagery to fall back on. I am also aware that when I deliver this sort of dense lecture, I can easily switch to autopilot, which sounds an awful lot like Charlie Brown's teacher. But I found that once I got going, my love and fascination for monastic life became the guiding force and the words flowed honestly and enthusiastically from me. Long story short, every time I looked out into the class, the students seemed to be absolutely riveted. They were not so much interested in the architecture we were looking at, but at the lifestyle of the monks themselves. We only had time to cover Benedictines and Cistercians, and even then we ran over time because they kept asking question after question. And that just makes me love this group of students more. If I had had more time, I would have talked about the Carthusian Order, as they are the group whose organization appeals to me the most, despite (or perhaps, because of) the rigorous asceticism and isolation for which they are known. Before I taught yesterday, my advisor handed me her copy of "Into Great Silence," a meditative look at the monks of the Grande Chartreuse. I watched it in its quiet entirety last night with absolute fascination. My impatience dissipated after 20 minutes (we are so programmed to search for distractions in life!) and I spent the next two and a half hours in a sort of joyous, voyeuristic solitude. There is almost no dialogue (my favorite bit concerns a discussion of handwashing. Monk #1 says, "There's a monastery in Soulignac, they have six fonts! You can wash your hands properly!" Monk #2: "Yes, but they're Trappist!"), no soundtrack and some of the rituals may seem confusing (for a typical day in the life of a Carthusian nun, see here), but in the end, none of it matters because it all makes perfect sense: the rhythm, the ritual, the movement of every day life is as plain as the indication of the passing of time during the day. There is a reminder at the beginning of the film to let God reveal himself to you, and that's exactly what the film does with its shots of a quiet font, a dripping pan, the sublime landscape, and the deeply contented faces of the silent brothers. This is not a film so much about Christianity as it is about a deeply spiritual way of life. A blind, elderly monk's ruminations and the silent, simple beauty of the monastery are here. Trailer below. |
| Images |
| (holly, 17 September 2008) Brief film of an elderly Renoir painting with assistance (well, mainly smoking like a chimney) from around 1917. Background here. The Art of Photogravure celebrates "the beauty and history of the photogravure process and the important role it has played in the evolution of fine art photography." |
| Equilibrium |
| (holly, 16 September 2008) I've been on a low dose of Synthroid for the past two years and in that time I've seen no change in my metabolism, had repeated occurrences of veins bursting in my thighs and under my arms, suffered from horrible mood swings and depression, and have had more difficulty sleeping than ever before in my life. I'd been having my prescription filled automatically at Target every month and they'd send the email notifying me when it was ready to pick up. For whatever reason, they stopped doing this in May and I would have to go in and see if the order was ready, etc. A month ago, I decided to just quit it. I'm sick of the side effects only aspect of taking it without one single benefit. Why in the world am I paying money every month to feel worse than I did before? So I blew off picking up my prescription this month. Guess what? I sleep through the night now. My bruises are fading and my veins aren't bursting. I'm even-tempered (well, as much as I can be) and haven't had any spells of depression or foreboding all month, despite the stress of the new semester and impending conference. Still no metabolism change, but I'm walking away with the body I had when I started this course of snake oil, so I'm fine with that. The pharmacy must have contacted my doctor's office, because they've left a couple messages in a chiding voice telling me I "need" to come in for a check-up and tests. You know, I don't think there was ever anything wrong with me that completely getting over the pneumonia couldn't have taken care of. I feel better than I have in a couple years and I'm not going to screw it up by letting doctors prescribe a bunch of crap I don't want or need in my body. So there. I feel empowered Except, why don't students read what they are required to read for my class? It's really getting old (and not specifically this class, but just... college students in general). I don't want to bully them, but then I'm also teaching an upper-level course and not an entry-level survey where I lecture non-stop all the time-- they need to have read the assignments in order to have background for the lectures. Conversely, these students do ask a lot of (mostly good) questions, but I think the questions would be better if they just did the flippin' reading! Gratuitous ninja kitty video, in case you haven't seen it yet... |
| Kunst |
| (holly, 15 September 2008) The Arte Luise Kusthotel in Berlin is a great concept-- the rooms are decorated by renowned artists (and, not being a contemporary specialist, I'll take their word for it). Some of the rooms, like the Roman Schmelter and Dieter Mammel rooms are surrealistically comforting. Others, however, like the Hans van Meeuwen (aauuughh!!! Jesus!!!) and the Elvira Bach rooms are the stuff of nightmares. Paeslack's room is lovely except for the "audience." And I like Hopper very much, but I don't think I could stomach being in one of his paintings. What? No Franz Marc room? No tribute to Kirchner? Scandalous. While deseeding the cucumber for this evening's tzatziki sauce, I managed to turn the gadget in just the right way so that it sliced the hell out of my thumb--truly, madly, deeply. It's insane to try and type without one's thumbs (even without one of them), so I'm giving up for today. The sauce was excellent, though. |
| Apollonian |
| (holly, 13 September 2008) Murph insisted on going to Ninth Street Park for walkies this evening, even though it was hot and slightly too humid for my liking, but RB and I went along with his doggie wishes. On the way back home, we turned west briefly and RB pointed out a faint rainbow over the setting sun. The more we moved away from the trees, the larger the rainbow appeared. Trying to remember all the components of a parhelion, a phenomenon I blogged about earlier this summer, I exclaimed, "That's a sundog! There should be a bright circle of light to one side of the sun!" We kept our eyes on the rainbow as we trekked towards the high hill of the cemetery and when we got there, we saw that the parhelic circle actually contained three sundogs, not unlike this configuration. It was one of the coolest things I've ever seen-- and so big! We sat in the cemetery and enjoyed the show for a while. Between the sundogs and the crop circles in Bedford, the day ended up with a slightly not-entirely-unfavorable ominous flavor. |
| No |
| (holly, 12 September 2008) Women Against Sarah Palin is an inspirational read and an awesome project. Pass it on. I have been blown away today reading the testimonies of women in their 70s and 80s who are more concerned about the retraction of women's reproductive rights than many of the young women who will definitely feel the results of such a retraction if this abomination of a woman and her party win this November. I went into this election year with my main concern being the environment and the preservation of Roe v. Wade a close second. I do believe that order has been transposed. She's not "George Bush in a dress"-- she's even more repellent. Got some spare change and a working brain? Donate to Obama. |
| Progression |
| (holly, 8 September 2008) I received my contract for the freelance editing / bibliographer position today. The language of the contract is a little frightening in its formality, but I'm extremely excited to start working on this project. Plus, I desperately need the income since my stipend is considerably less this year than it was last year. I can't believe I'm going to NOLA in a couple weeks. My paper is good, my presentation is good, but I think I'm in that weird denial phase where I keep the event in the back of my mind instead of letting it come out and scare the living crap out of me. I have no idea what the room will be like, how many people will be there, or what kind of a crowd it will be. It sounds like a very friendly conference and there are around a half dozen of us from the department going, so at least we'll have a little built-in support network. Now if the worries about crashing into gator-infested waters would stop... A nifty narrated slideshow tour of San Marco in Venice. If the narration drives you nuts, the text is included beneath the images. Same goes for Saint John the Divine. I wish I could get to The Morgan to see the tiny Prayer Book of Claude de France. All is not lost, as it can be seen here. |
| Impressions |
| (holly, 4 September 2008) I don't like to talk politics here, but this is absolutely spot on and I couldn't have said it better myself. Good first week of class, a couple students need to learn some manners (which I will teach them). I have one outstanding student so far who has already decided on a research topic and is raring to get her bibliography underway. I am feeling stable when upright and able to wear regular shoes (I was starting to think I would never be able to again) and today I was all over the place. I forgot how much energy it takes to lecture for an hour and a half while running all over the front of the room pointing things out and keeping everyone focused and alert. I'm ready for bed early tonight. Great site about old British Penny Machines. Make sure to check out all the different kinds in the museum. |
| Crap |
| (holly, 31 August 2008) As Gustav bears down on the Gulf Coast, my stomach is in knots for the well-being of New Orleans and the efforts of those who have worked so hard to rebuild her. I wonder if we're actually going to be able to have a conference there in less than a month. Fuck off, Gustav. Sometime in the wee hours between Friday and Saturday, Murph woke me by repeatedly hopping on and off the bed. In my incoherence, I thought he just wanted snuggles. We found out how wrong that assumption was when RB discovered the hidden lake of diarrhea in my office yesterday morning. Unfortunately, he discovered it when he ran over it with the vacuum cleaner-- you know, one of those hurricane in a see-through cannister types? Yeah. Splatter. Household budget doesn't allow for a new vacuum right now, so it's in the yard drying out and awaiting our attempts to chip all the poo out of the damn thing. Talk about a shit storm. This is my favorite thing of the whole week. |
| Bits |
| (holly, 29 August 2008) The Ad Council has put a plethora of wonderful ads on Youtube. My current favorites are this one, promoting the study of foreign language, this one promoting the study of Algebra (heresy! I know!), and this one, just because the dad is adorable. I like the work of Arthur Zyck. The Haggadah is stunning. More images here. Excavating the library at Herculaneum's Villa of the Papyri. I can't wait to see the list of works. I've somehow managed to get sick. Or I guess it would be accurate to say my body has gone on strike from too much work, too much stress, and not nearly enough sleep. Long weekend with short lectures next week, so for now, it's lots of sleep, vitamin C and water. |
| Diversions |
| (holly, 27 August 2008) Ooof. This is orientation week-- the week before classes-- and I a. Have given one lecture to incoming grad students on the research process (yesterday) b. Have given a 3-hour procedures training session complete with 8-page handout for the student replacing me as TMR's assistant (today) c. Am giving a lecture about classroom incivility to incoming A.I.s/G.A.s (tomorrow) In addition, I have a. Completed my syllabus and sent it off for printing b. Scanned and converted to PDF all of the readings for the course c. Finalized all the projects for the class and drafted much of the exams d. Slept about 3 hours in as many days I'm knackered, folks. Although the 55-mile ride on Sunday helped give me the energy to get through this week. The Green Man of Cercles has some very interesting stuff (although I'm having a little trouble getting the slideshows to work). Early Visual Media has a nice collection of images of and links about early 20th century cabaret performers from the Moulin Rouge and the Folies Bergére. Also, an excellent little exploration of Danse Macabre prints and Ghost Shows. Sexy Witch is a blog about... wait for it... sexy witches. Wonderful vintage images and thoughtful commentary. Do I really need to remind you that with a title like "Sexy Witch" you are going to encounter nudity on this site? I thought not. A trio of milestones in August: a. hollyism.com is seven years old this week b. I've not had a cigarette in five years (thanks, Dio and Allan Carr!) c. We've lived in this house for eleven years Time flies... |
| Clean |
| (holly, 20 August 2008) I'm taking this week to do nothing school related and instead, am cleaning my filthy house like it hasn't been cleaned in years. I have a very busy semester ahead of me and I can't work if my space is cluttered and dirty, so I've been in bulldozer mode the past couple days. I returned 55 books to the library this evening and can now actually put *my* books on the bookshelf (well, most of them). Actually, I've come to the conclusion that I have too many books. I will never read most of them again and they are simply taking up space and attracting dust. Time to start selling things off, I think. In the meantime, tomorrow is office cleaning day-- the most important space and the most likely to be declared a disaster zone. It'll be an all day affair, but I can't wait until I can see enough of the rug to vacuum it. |
| Varia |
| (holly, 15 August 2008) Now would be a good time for me to learn how to use the Spaces feature of Leopard. I have four major projects to work on and I find that I get distracted by one thing or another with all of the folders sitting in the same space. It would be nice for each project to have its own desktop. I wonder if I can time them to rotate every two hours so every project gets equal time during the day. I'd love to install the recent software updates, but our wireless modem has a habit of cutting out and the last thing I want is to lose the connection while updating the entire operating system. Coptic artifacts revealed as fakes in Brooklyn. Apparently, the fraud was noted in the 1970s, but no one seems to have taken any notice. I wonder if our collection will be subject to an evaluation. In all honesty, I hope our Coptic pieces are the real deal because our medieval collection is so weak, it really can't stand to lose anything. This NY TImes article on looking for the details in artwork has given me an idea for a future assignment. An interesting little article on "blue humor." Wonderful details of manuscript painting by the Boucicaut Master's workshop, Jean Colombe (look at the gorgeous grisaille Pentecost), Stephen Bening, the Rohan Master, and many more artists at the Digital Scriptorium. |
| Surprise |
| (holly, 13 August 2008) Out of the blue today, I received an email from the Fine Arts librarian containing an offer to act as bibliographer for a project currently being undertaken by a Very Famous Medieval Manuscripts Expert at a Very Famous Rare Book Institution. Seems our librarian knows one of their librarians and a request for a suitable person for the job was tendered to my advisor and she offered my name. What a complete surprise and a total honor this is. The pay's not too shabby, either. Mr. Rogers gets all freaky with his clown mask. Tiger Mike's Memos are the in-house communications of a tightly wound oil man to his various employees. Some of them are hilarious. I hope he paid his employees well. Funnily enough, I found these while looking for wording suggestions for classroom policy on a syllabus. |
| Vieille |
| (holly, 12 August 2008) I've noticed recently that Carnaby is really starting to look her age. She must be around fifteen years old and although she's always been very small, she's always been nicely rounded. But she's starting to get that delicate, old kitty boniness that really indicates elder-cat status to me. Her skin complaints are worse than they have been in a while, and there are times when I swear she's displaying some sort of senility and possibly deafness. She spends most of her days napping next to me while I work, but will occasionally explode with energy, tearing around the house or chasing her tail. She should go to the vet for a check-up, but I hate taking her because she gets so incredibly stressed in the car. I'd rather not subject her to that ordeal and then the fear of the vet's office just to be told that she's quite old. It's really starting to sink in that all the cats except Khephra and Clive are over eleven years old and starting to slow down a little. Carnaby is the one I've feared losing the most since she showed up at the window the night before Thanksgiving 1997, around four years old but weighing only four lbs., bald, and covered with scabs. I was surprised she made it through the night. She's always been my number one kitty (with Thomas close behind) and it hurts my heart sometimes to see her coming into the final stretch of her years, but by gods I've done everything I can to see that she's had a good life to make up for her first few years. She will leave a big empty hole in my heart when she goes (which, I hope, will not be for a few more years yet). In the meantime, she is the chief syllabus critic.  |
| Heaven |
| (holly, 3 August 2008) After recovering from the double debauchery of a Saturday night Lammas / Mead Day celebration, RB chuck me and the bikes in the jeep and drove up to Morgan Monroe State Forest for an easy trial run. I've never been so afraid to get on a bicycle, and having not been on Oberon in so long there was a terrifying couple of seconds when I shoved off and planted myself in the saddle. The geometry of this bike requires a much more aggressive position than Morpheus, so I sit much higher and stretched out on this one. Carefully tested what my knee was capable of and by the time I'd ridden four miles I was simultaneously exhausted and elated. By mile six, I felt much better. A couple miles after that (on the slightly uphill portion), the knee started having sharp, stabby pain-- enough to make me gasp but not enough to warrant stopping. Things started to move around in there, little pops and twinges as random knee viscerae stretched out and moved back into place. Finally, it felt like a string of little champagne bubbles popped from my knee to my hip and then all unpleasantness just vanished. My legs are pretty weak relative to what they were in June, but I managed to do just over 21 miles. I think I could have done more, but I didn't want to push my luck. It was indescribably nice to have a shit-eating grin on my face for a while. I think I love riding that bike more than just about anything else in the world. I felt like I'd climbed Galibier and flew the whole way down. I'm really developing a love of the pre-Romanesque architecture in Asturias. |
| Gears |
| (holly, 1 August 2008) I'm taking a break from grading and watching Hell on Wheels and it just makes me sad. I've been off the road for six weeks (today, actually). I still can't walk without a limp. I have almost no muscle in my right leg and I've completely fucked up my posture from gimping around. Dammit. I can't stand this any more. I'm going to go out on Sunday because I am going to just burst with longing otherwise. This has been the most perfect summer for riding and I have missed nearly every fucking day of it. I'm a little surprised at how not okay I am with that. It really almost borders on anger and I need to let go of that. |
| Idears |
| (holly, 31 July 2008) Argh! Why won't the design for the fall class come along without a fight? Or why can I just not care if it's a crappy class? The way I want to teach would probably leave out a few substantial monuments and artwork but would provide a lot of juicy historical context by way of classes devoted to specific topics rather than trolling through four centuries in chronological order subdivided by medium and geography, as is the standard method. Boring! But it's a 300-level course, so surely it's alright to break from the tedium of the survey-course infrastructure? I want to talk about Catharism (and other heresies), crusades, secularism, plague, sex and gender, and how art speaks to those issues. The easy way would be to do the old chronological grind, but I'll hate myself if I do it that way. Maybe I can do both: lecture following survey protocol and when the students have a decent background in stylistic traits and grasp of terminology (why do they all hate architecture SO MUCH???) then I can do a couple topics lectures, and repeat that process as we move through the chronology. By the gods, I better have some sort of divine wind under my wings to get this sketched out in the next couple weeks. Mullanium's collection of spiffed up antique bird decoys are really cool. Preservationist side loses to "Oooo! Spolia!" side. I'm a bad antiquarian. Conversely, I have a nagging worry that someday I or one of the students will break something in the museum. Whenever I have to take a group in, I sleep uneasily the night before and dream of all those Roman heads on pedestals crashing to the ground because someone has backed into one. It's never happened. And actually, the article is right: the only time I've ever seen something broken in our museum, a staff member was responsible. |
| Distractions |
| (holly, 30 July 2008) I'm hate when I go through these periods of utter panic about things in the future. At the moment, I'm panicking because I'm teaching a class this fall that I've never taught before and for which I do not have a syllabus. Not even a rough draft. No readings selected. The upside is that I have hundreds of Powerpoint slides I can use to put lectures together and I do have a month (less a couple days to be safe) to get it together. I just need this current class to end so I can sit down and let myself think about this without distractions like next-day lecture tweaking and grading constantly in my face. Of course, that does nothing for those blood-curdling moments of "OMG! I'm going to utterly fail in New Orleans!!!! And my plane is going to crash!!!!" And those are really the most problematic types of moments because, really, there's nothing I can do about either situation, but I do like to worry about them. I can try my best not to fail, but if people don't like what I have to say, there's really nothing I can do about it. Nothing I can do about the plane, either, but then that's a familiar old boogey rearing its head at me. Still annoying as ever. On the other hand, I was extremely amused to see that in the preliminary conference program, my advisor is listed as "Stephen" (her name is nowhere near Stephen in any way, not even near it in the alphabet) and I have been billed as "Peter." I've been called Heidi and Heather with some frequency over the years, and I can understand the substitution there, but Peter? How was that mistake even made, I wonder? Well, I have my alter ego now, I suppose. RB sent me a link to Open Source Food (seriouly, do not click this if you're hungry), which I'm liking a whole lot better than Epicurious (although Epicurious seems to contain more information all around, their recipes have never been particularly inspiring to me). A search for mussels yielded a must-try pasta dish. With some of these on the side. Oh, gods, and this. You're welcome. |
| Surprise |
| (holly, 29 July 2008) I love this idea. We are living in strange times. I find these freak mushrooms simultaneously compelling and repulsive. I've got this unshakable aversion to GM anything that's edible, even when the potential benefits are so worthwhile. Paternosters is a great blog exploring the history of rosaries and other forms of prayer beads from the early modern world and earlier. The final result of the skully bits post is really lovely. Al Farrow makes incredible reliquaries out of bullets and gun parts. Have a plane ticket and a room in NOLA for five days at the end of September. Now I have to tweak the paper and design the visual presentation. If I can storyboard the paper, I may try this on Keyote, since I'll be taking the new computer with me. This will be the closest thing to a vacation I'll have had since 1999. |
| Machine |
| (holly, 24 July 2008) My old G4 Powerbook is five years old and on its second hard drive. It can't run for more than ten minutes without the fan coming on full force. If I type using Word, I can watch the letters following leisurely behind me as I type. No way can I use Photoshop or Powerpoint on it, which means presenting at conferences could be rather awkward if computers are not provided. Which means I am tethered to my desk and decrepit old chair if I am working on course materials. The desktop Mini is the workhorse, but it's slow sometimes, especially if I'm doing a lot of graphics or putting together a long lecture. Or a dissertation with a lot of tables and images. Random Banner surprised the hell out of me in recent days when he bought me a MacBook Pro. It arrived last week and it is snappy. Oh, yes it is. I treated myself to iWork and like how those apps work very much (with Keynote giving me some wonderful ideas for lecture presentations). The surprise hit, though, is video conferencing via iChat. RB has the same machine, so provided I have wifi in France, we can do video chat instead of ungodly expensive phone calls every day. I can't believe we actually have video phones. We are in the future now. And as terrible as it sounds, I'm really conflicted about RB's job with The Man, despite the snappy new computer it has bought me. I ripped a line from Madmen last night and told him with utter sincerity, "You're selling the lie!" He said, "Nuh-uh. I'm just making it pretty." This is a wonderful thing. I liked it even more when I noticed who the author is. Watched the first episode of "Long Way Down" (caution: sound and really annoying interface) last night and was a little disappointed with the breakneck pace (as was Ewan McGergor, apparently) at which they traveled. I hope they stop and look at things eventually. They flipped through Tunisia and Libya so fast I felt like they did both countries in the same day. Although the footage of the Roman ruins in Libya was well worth the wait. Lord, I am beyond busy right now. |
| Magic |
| (holly, 16 July 2008) I'd never heard of Ivan Albright until recently, but I am really liking what I see. He seems to have been quite prolific (if not overprotective about his work), so I can't believe I've never come across his stuff before. He seems to have sprung from that same class of late 19th-Early 20th century weirdness that produced Albert PInkham Ryder and David Gilmour Blythe. while simultaneously portraying the brutal realism of the human condition for which Lucien Freud became known much later. Someday, when I have some time and a little money, I need to get my hands on some stone carving tools and give it a try. How can I possibly teach the history of sculpture at an elevated level when I've never actually attempted to carve something? Plus, that might be something good to bring into my spring semester class -- let the students come up and try their hand at it during breaks. The gilding, painting, and calligraphy demos have always gone over well, so I figure it's time to cart around a block of stone as well. My transformation to Sisyphus must be nearing completion. FFS. This just makes me sick. Yeah, I know how that loud argument probably went: Driver (passing too close to cyclist): Hey! Get off the fuckin' road! Cyclist: Fuck you, buddy! Driver (slams on breaks and gets out): What the fuck did you say? I pay taxes on this road and you should be on the sidewalk or driving a car like a normal person. You got no fuckin' right to come out here on the road so I have to slow down to pass you or get off my phone. Now you've made me late! Cyclist: What the hell is your problem? I'm just trying to get to work. I pay taxes on these roads too. Now fuck off and let me be on my way. Driver (stepping in front of bike): HEY! I'm talking to you, asshole! I'm not done here! Things get loud and pushy and angry lizard-brained cager shoots cyclist in the face. Now, I have no idea if this is what really happened, and I am aware that I am fully biased in favor of the cyclist, but in my experience and the experience of others, this is usually the scenario (without the gun, thank goodness). I hope they catch this guy and let him have it. |
| Milestone |
| (holly, 13 July 2008) I've been so busy (with no break in sight) I haven't had time to do much that involves not sitting in this chair writing or reading or putting together Powerpoints. My knee has kept me off the bike for just over three weeks and haven't walked any farther than maybe a mile. I'm losing my mind-- I don't like being this sedentary. Plus today is supposed to be my "I Told You I Was Sick" Century day, commemorating my trip to the ER two years ago. I was hoping to make the solo-century an annual event, but I can barely ride four miles at the moment, thus one hundred is right out. So instead, I planned a nice long stroll up to Ninth Street park with Murph and Random Banner this evening-- the longest distance I've walked in almost a month. Or would have walked if I hadn't walked so extremely carefully through the grass at the park, so as not to step in a hole and twist my knee, that I didn't see the damn bee before it flew between my big toe and neighbor and let loose. Oh, and this was on the non-fucked-up leg. No point in trying to walk like a normal person at that point, so RB went home for the jeep while Murph and I sat down to invent a game (it wasn't a very good one). I'm having a hard time finding the silver lining in this. At least I got out of the neighborhood. I had a good entry ready to post, but I'm too tired and irritable to write it up. Maybe tomorrow. |
| Images |
| (holly, 9 July 2008) I'm ambling carefully through Mary Carruthers The Book of Memory: A Study of Memory in Medieval Culture, but it's making my eyes want to bleed. Excellent content, just content that, by its very exploration of how the medieval (or any) mind uses image as a fundamental function and tool of memory, seems to not translate into easily written language (not to my brain today, anyway). This is the very problem I'm having with the section of Chapter 5 I'm working on. I can look at the images in question and understand exactly how they work, but I can't seem to verbalize it in a way that doesn't sound convoluted or like I'm completely out of my mind. I've come up with some great SGPs (Sentences of Germanic Proportions) lately. I would rather just look at imagines rerum right now than think about whether or not the brain is using them heuristically, hermeneutically, or iconographically. My brain hurts. Some of the critters in this gallery of translucent creatures remind me of some of Christina Bothwell's work (which I linked to the other day). Clouds like these remind me I need to look at the sky more often. Especially this one and this one. The lsit of rare clouds is extremely interesting. We've had a couple shelf clouds roll though here this year. Related, but not a cloud, is the phenomenon of the sundog. I really want to see one of these. Awww. Lovely. |
| Progress |
| (holly, 8 July 2008) Weaned myself off crutches in the middle of last week, and gave up the brace over the weekend. Took it real easy riding Morpheus to campus today, but I've lost a lot of road confidence and traffic savvy. Went real slow, which is no fun, but I didn't want to fall (or worse). My knee is stronger than I think it is, but I've got a long way to go to make it as strong as it used to be. Season 2 of Madmen is fast approaching (spoilers aplenty in the Wiki link, so don't read if you don't want all the beans spilled). The New York Times Magazine has a nice piece on the series and its creator. Anyone who knows me at all knows that I am not prone to political correctness, but this show usually pushes even my buttons within the first couple minutes. It would almost be offensive if it weren't so over-the-top. Still, gape-mouthed indignation has never been so much fun. This has to be one of the best shows to air in recent years. Don Draper. Bring it. The juvenile in me is getting a kick out of some Failblog entries (and the comments). Regarding a comment left for this one in which the commenter wonders what went wrong-- did kids do it? Forget the "G"? Here's an anecdote. One summer day when I was in my teens, my BFF and I were out driving around listening to The Police at full tilt with the windows down. We went to Dairy Queen for something cold and we sat on the hood of her car to eat our ice cream. About 20 feet away, some guy from Ponderosa was up on a ladder putting letters up on their sign. He was working from a piece of paper in his hand, so we thought we should tell him that he spelled tenderloin wrong before he climbed down. "Hey, you've spelled it LION! TenderLION, not LOIN." It took about four tries to get him to understand what we were talking about. He said his manager told him to put up exactly what was on the paper and when he showed it to us, it did indeed advertise a reasonably priced tenderlion. Which I think I'd prefer over an anus burger. Had a really intense conversation with a student after class today about all kinds of things-- life, death, love, art, mystery, history. She had come to tell me about a recent death close to her, which led to revelations about love, and ideas started flowing after that. She's quite an exciting artist, a top student, and has a great mind. We both ended up with teary eyes, but what a lovely experience it is to connect with a student in that way. Actually, today's class was great: lots of good questions were asked, enthusiasm was evident, one student even commented that he was glad to see that the tympanum of Conques was included on the exam because he had been wanting to write about it. I'll say that again: He wants to write about something he saw in my class. I caught one! That right there is reason enough for me to teach this class. I am totally stoked. Oh, and I'm adding French Word-A-Day to the blogroll because I think it's wonderful. |
| Opinions |
| (holly, 7 July 2008) Interesting collection of rejected ads. I'd never seen the ones Channel 4 had for Six Feet Under. I can understand how some might find these upsetting, but they are done tastefully. In a completely creepy sort of way. My hackles are up far higher at the reasoning behind the yanking of this ad. Never mind that the whole premise is based on the (presumably) male gaze and the clinical subjectification of the female body (how convenient! She doesn't have a head!) culminating in tacit encouragement of peeping. No, that's OK. According to the website, "The complainant objected that the advertisement was offensive because it suggested that the model was masturbating." Oh, come now. Masturbating? Really? REALLY?!? With her thumbs? I think the person or board who called that shot is reaching real hard. Also, I wish people would take pause and reconsider throwing around the word "offensive." Is there anything in the world that isn't "offensive" ? Can't things just be controversial or provocative or troubling anymore? Oooh! I like Christina Bothwell's work, especially this one, this one, and this one. Cool hair hats from Nago Noda. One of those would be quite the distraction at the front of the classroom, wouldn't it? Hell, it would be a distraction anywhere. |
| Balance |
| (holly, 6 July 2008) In honor of Thor Hushovd's Stage 2 win and the fact that I can now walk all the way around the cemetery without cane or crutch, I shall attempt to take a victory lap around the block on Morpheus today. I really hate starting all over yet again. Am I configuring this incorrectly, or does the latest death trifecta really go like this? Because I just love it! 1) George Carlin 2) Bozo the Clown 3) Jesse Helms I wish I could get inside the heads of those students (and there's always at least one) who, despite my lengthy explanation (both on the syllabus and discussed the first day of class) of the "you miss an in-class assignment, there are no make-ups no matter what the reason," rule, feel the need to present me with a note from the health center because they "weren't feeling well" and expect me to ignore my own rule and let them make up the assignment. I have no idea how this rule is not clear. I deliberately make these exercises of low point value so the students can miss a couple and not damage their grades. If you skip class more than a couple times (especially during an eight-week course!), maybe you shouldn't be wasting your time and money. *shrug* I am further amazed when the "special case" pleaders cop a snippy attitude when I tell them "no." Seriously, does no one uphold rules and tell these kids no, ever? But then, kudos to the student who was back in class two days after her father's funeral (with no request to make up work) and the one who came in soaking wet and bloody because she crashed her bike in the rain trying to avoid being hit by an idiot in a car (and she was only five minutes late). Those students inspire me. It's for those people I try to keep the bar raised. I just wish they weren't so rare. Great site for the NGA's Winslow Homer exhibit in 2006. I would have loved seeing this show! And where were these great images when I was writing my M.A. thesis? Seeing "The Lifeline when it visited the IMA several years ago was an emotional experience. You really can't get a sense of his technique without seeing these paintings in person. The water drops on the rope were really impressive. And her face has...many layers. Fascinating article about the relationship between rock art and aboriginal tattoos down under. I wish they would more clearly define the delimiter "early", though. Grading awaits. Alas. |
| Places |
| (holly, 3 July 2008) This site has some nice photo essays. The Soviet Bus Stops and Havana Old Timers are especially appealing. I'm loving this Map of Heaven. Although, if I may pick a nit, if God is the largest figure waiting to have his lap sat on, then Jesus has been put on the wrong side. More great (and strange) maps here. I particularly like the Swiss Army France. I love that they got the topography of the Massif Centrale correct, too (although its area is a bit expanded here). Greek culture. The alphabetical lists of archaeological sites and monuments are nice. Just poking around the Bibliotheque Nationale's online exhibit, "The Age of Charles V (1338-1380) I happened upon an illumination in which Clovis looks disturbingly like this King. Um. That's quite a resemblance. Even the little curls on the side of the head are the same. |
| Transposition |
| (holly, 2 July 2008) I'm amused that when I search Google for "romanes" it asks me if I mean "Ramones." I don't think I've ever gotten a cassette from a love interest, but I used to get them from friends and I sure made a few of them for friend (and myself) once upon a time. I love the stories behind their creations, and for that reason, I love this site. Making a mix CD just isn't the same. For one thing, you gotta have two sides. And moving parts that somehow make the tape so much more a tangible object than a cold, impersonal disc. I've just put together a really great lecture on four of the great Romanesque pilgrimage portals. I hope my timing is good tomorrow. |
| Florilegium |
| (holly, 1 July 2008) This stingray migration is something I'd love to see someday. From a boat. I like the collective term, too-- a fever of stingrays. This is why I will never eat duck. Here is a wunderkammer of a page relating to Athanasius Kircher. The meaty article about medieval dancing mania (tarantism) is quite good. Also, many of the sites linked to are in German. You should click links regardless, because some of them lead to fantastic pictures. Cabinet Magazine has a great, pithy article about the catacombs of Palermo. With pictures. Might not want to read if you're eating. Meanwhile, Low-Tech Magazine has a few suggestions about how to entertain your eyes without the use of a TEEvee. |
| Flurries |
| (holly, 29 June 2008) I've had a longtime fascination with snow globes and have never fully explored that fascination because I know it would become a fullblown obsession in no time at all. Having said that, Walter Martin and Paloma Muñoz make some seriously cool snow globes. I'm particularly fond of the "Travelers" series. Especially this one. And this one. And, of course, this one. |
| Thinking |
| (holly, 27 June 2008) One of the things I'm enjoying about the trio of classes I'm teaching this year is the fact that I can give the students a chance to read real scholarship in the field. Whenever possible, I try to provide them with essays of conflicting opinions so they can question what they read and try to come to a decision themselves. Although the readings are a little difficult to grasp, I think, for some of the students, the majority of them seem to appreciate a bit of a challenge. I'm not asking them to read closely for every single nuance, just close enough that they can glean the argument and the proof. It's been great fun for me to pit scholar against scholar and have visual accompaniment in the Powerpoint lectures. The amount of Arthur Kingsley Porter I've worked into the lectures as examples of sacred cow needing to be slaughtered indicates my level of obsession and irritation with his methodology and the blind following he garnered for generations. Further evidence of this may be seen in the continuous reworking of the first chapter of my dissertation. Hell, Porter ought to get his own chapter so I can refute him at length. After reading Hearn, Morey, and Porter this past week, I hope Linda Seidel's refreshing scholarship goes down like a cool glass of water on a hot day. Although I'm not sure challenging the notion of Giselbertus' identity will be as exciting to them as it is to me. The more I get into this class, the more I believe it is as much about critical thinking as it is about art history. And while the class deals with art and architecture of medieval pilgrimage, I have also added the category "Culture". I want us to delve into the psychology of pilgrimage and to consider what kinds of forces drive a person to complete such an endeavor (despite frustrations along the way). To that end, I am sending the students on a pilgrimage. I handed out a hand drawn map of campus, complete with cautionary markings steering my intrepid pilgrims away from the wild dogs and hippies in Dunn Meadow and the beer at Bear's Place. Each week, I will post directions and clues (a la Amery Picaud's twelfth century pilgrim's guide) that will lead them to a particular piece of sculpture on one of the campus buildings. Once they find the mark, they must answer some questions about the propriety of that sculpture on that particular building. On the last day of class, they will bring me their completed pilgrimage "passport" with all the answers and this will count as their final exam. Each student who completes the pilgrimage will receive a small badge with the year and the class "mascot" (I didn't think it proper to use the customary shell):  I wonder if this is a completely dorky assignment, but the sculpture on the WPA-era buildings is extremely cool and I seriously doubt that the students have noticed much of it. They seemed to get a kick out of the map, so hopefully this will be an effective experience and I can use it again. The only bad thing is that for the amount of time it took me to draw the map, it can only be used here on this campus. If I have the chance to do this wherever I end up, I will have to do another map. Auuughhh! |
| Testing |
| (holly, 26 June 2008) Soooo! Six months off has been nice! I've delved into various online communities and fora and realized today that I really like my quiet, solitary little room here and I need a place to write without censure, so here I am again. It may be difficult to get back in the swing, but I'm going to give it a shot. Hanging up most of my virtual community ties will allow me a little time for that, I hope. I seriously doubt that anyone is still reading anyway. Currently have a sprained knee-- possibly a torn ACL-- because some random asshole dumped beer on the dance floor at a show I attended last week. So crutches for me for two weeks and if I still can't walk, it's in for an MRI. I had planned early to train for RAIN this year, but the weather (everlasting Winter! No Spring at all!!!) deterred me from seriously training. Had I trained for that ride and been felled like this three weeks before the event I would be absolutely livid. As it is, I am depressed at the loss of use of my leg and by the fact that I'm not even allowed to get on a bike until I can walk without crutches. I have never wanted karma to visit anyone quite as much as I do right now. Teaching! I'm teaching this Summer! And in the Fall! And in the Spring! And next Summer! And going back to France in the Spring as well! Hoping to defend next year (no, not hoping-- I have to do it. I simply must finish and get out of here). Teaching 300-level courses this year and enjoying it. The level of reading I assign makes for meatier discussion and debate and this semester's students are a sharp bunch. I hope to maintain that quality in the Fall. More later, but I have lectures to compile for next week-- lectures I actually want to give! Hurrah! |
| Later |
| (holly, 3 March 2008) I don't think Hollyism is gone for good, but a lot has happened in the past three months (most of it good, some of it scarily uncertain) and I haven't felt the compunction to discuss it here. I often run across things to blog and then never get around to doing it. Maybe I will again at some point. This is my seventh year maintaining this blog and I don't intend to let it die, it just needs to undergo a metamorphosis. Do check back from time to time. |
Last Updated on 27 June 2008 by |
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