The bulk of my last posting was spent singing the praises of Mr. David McCandless; as anyone who has checked out any of his work before or since then can attest to, such accolades are/were more than justified.
Specifically, I loved his “rhetological” fallacies project, where he vizualized a colorful list of about 50 different rhetorical or logical fallacies, and created an unadorned yet arresting image to accompany each of them. Pretty cool stuff.
As an instructor teaching an introductory rhetoric course, I sympathize with my students, I truly do. I don’t mean this in some sort of self-effacing “so sad for them, they lost the instructor lottery, I suck.” To the contrary, when one considers the fact that I have to engage 18-year-olds at 9:30 in the morning on matters as dry as the differences between Aristotelian and Platonic notions concerning rhetoric, and/or the finer points of JSTOR navigation, I’d say that I do a halfway decent job.
About a week and a half ago I made a spur of the moment trip to The Blanton Museum of Art for the closing ceremony of "Into the Sacred City," a recent exhibit on Tibetan religious art. The day's program included the erasure of a five-foot sand mandala which a group of Buddhist monks had spent five days creating in the museum's main atrium. For those of you who aren't familiar with this colorful ritual practice, sand mandalas are intricate circular designs which can represent, variously, the universe, the interworkings of the mind, or even the palacial dwellings of deities. In Tibetan practice, when the pattern is complete the sands are swept together and dispersed in a stream or river. The monks who created the mandala at The Blanton (above) followed this ancient tradition, blurring the completed design with a few strokes of a brush before hundreds of mesmerized spectators (see image below). Though I braved the long lines and made it into the exhibit, I actually did not get to witness the destruction of the mandala. My view was blocked by the massive crowd that turned out for the occasion. But what I could see, and consequently what I began to think about, was the setting of this creative act, or its context. I began to wonder about the place of religious practice in secular institutions and how the ethos of the space affects the gravity of the ritual. I also reflected on the irony of staging the impermanence of art, through its construction and subsequent deconstruction, in the very church of preservation: the museum.
The other day I flew from New York to Houston on a new Boeing 787 Dreamliner. This was just a few days before the aircraft was deemed unsafe for travel. Now I count myself among the lucky few who’ve had a chance to experience the vehicle. What’s all the hype about? The plane is Seattle-based Boeing’s newest in 20 years, and clearly represents their bid to remain one of the world’s top airline manufactures. (Europe’s Airbus A380 has presumably pressured Boeing to innovate.) Before last week’s grounding of all Dreamliners around the world, Boeing was struggling to meet demand. Before last week’s grounding there were roughly 100 of these planes in the global skies, and roughly five times that amount on order. Carriers include All Nippon Airways, Japan Airlines, and Air India. The only American airline company that flies them as of this writing is United Airlines. They own six Dreamliners, and I was lucky enough to be flying on their first, which has been in operation since early November. The Dreamliner’s issues had been in the news prior to my flight, but I did not learn about them until I was leisurely reading The New YorkTimes midflight. Problems I read about included cracking windshields, wings leaking fuel, and batteries catching on fire. All this made for one of the more notable flights of my relatively short life.
Submitted by Rachel Schneider on Wed, 2013-01-23 09:13
Image Credit: Screenshot from Twitter
Inauguration officials estimate that about one million people crowded the National Mall this weekend to watch Barack Obama be sworn in as President. While this crowd was smaller than the 1.8 million who attended his first inauguration in 2008, a number of luminaries were present: Beyoncé, Stevie Wonder, and Invisible Obama. Apparently Invisible Obama had a busy day planning his inaugural ball outfit, surprising Senate Minority Leader Mitch McConnell, and acting as a “seat filler.”
Throughout the presidential election I was amazed how little either candidate discussed climate change – that is, neither said anything about it and both championed “clean coal,” whatever that is. Hearing the phrase “clean coal” makes me think about what it must be like for a quinquagenarian to eat Wendy’s before going in to get their blood pressure checked, and how on their drive to the doc they might shamelessly try something to mitigate the effects of their lack of restraint. What’s the humane and intelligent response to such tomfoolery? And then to think how much of that “clean coal” is powering the servers that are hosting this blog and all others out there on the interwebs…quit reading now! But of course none of us are going to quit reading or streaming, or eating Wendy’s. Hence why neither candidate thought the subject smart enough to broach, I guess.
Choosing a holiday card is apparently a big deal. I was not aware of this until my sister (married with two children) called me in distress over designing her card. As we talked and I pressed her to explain how this could possibly be stressful, I learned that the tradition of sending out greeting cards around the holidays isn't just about spreading good cheer. The rise of the photocard has made holiday salutations into an important opportunity for families to make a positive visual impression on friends and relatives. This surprised me a little because I had naively assumed the intent was to express one's hot-cocoa-induced feelings for the cards' recipients. But considering that media today is increasingly social, targeted, and customizable, the practice of creating a visual brand for one's family and sharing it with others should come as no surprise at all.
Every holiday season conservative political activists trying to maintain Christian supremacy in the United States bemoan an alleged "War On Christmas." According to their conspiracy theories, evil secularlists lurk behind every corner, ready to pounce on any expression of the Christian Christmas tradition. For the activists, store employees who wish customers a "happy holiday" are not trying to be inclusive. Rather, these cheerless corporate-mandated greetings serve as another boot of tyranny standing on the neck of American Christendom.
This could be the new flag of the United States of America. Fifty-one stars. In November 2012, Puerto Rico voted in a referendum to become the fifty-first state of the USA. The measure now awaits approval from the U.S. Congress. Whether the representatives of the fifty states will invite in Puerto Rico, currently a U.S. territory, depends, of course, on a number of factors: culture, taxes, how it would change the political dynamics of the country, among others. But there's another big deciding influence at play here, though it is less tangible, and that is how a fifty-first state would change the appearance of the U.S. flag. Why would that matter? Because the arrangement of the stars on the flag has everything to do with belief in Manifest Destiny.
Archives are by definition past-oriented. The very act of “archiving” renders an object an artifact of a specific past, although its orientation within that past depends on the disciplinary practice of the archivist. 20th century archival studies have made considerable movements toward standardization, and alongside this standardization of archival methodologies comes an expansion of that which we consider worthy of being archived. Thus, we no longer operate under the assumption that 20th century archives will be composed exclusively of objects from a distant, exclusively white Western patriarchal past—we compose queer archives, postcolonial archives, feminist archives, and, perhaps, in the case of Bel Geddes, even archives of the future. Join me as I explore the idea of a future archive and its relationship to the archival ethos of the Harry Ransom Center, in part by exploring exhibition visitor’s own “visions” of the future.
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