Archive for the ‘Mitch’ Category

Take Your Time, Olafur Eliasson

Tuesday, December 15th, 2009

As the title may suggest, I took my time, and after much procrastination, I have finally decided to do my final post on the exhibit by Olafur Eliasson that we went to a few months ago. I can honestly say that Eliasson’s work was like nothing I have ever seen before. My experience with formal, or even amateur, art exhibits is next to nothing. I have only been to the art museum in Chicago a few times–more than one of them being with my elementary school. So this experience was certainly novel.

Having long ago misplaced the brochure, I will have to rely on the Internet to supply me with the names of specific pieces, and as we all know that may result in mistakes. The first piece I want to take about is a long hallway that is lit only with mono-frequency lights that drown the hallway in yellow light but remove all other color from your vision. This is apparently called “Room for One Colour” and, like a few of Olafur’s works in the exhibit, was quite disorienting when you first enter. Perhaps the most spectacular effect, as I have already said, is that all the color is removed from your surroundings, which includes the people in the hallway with you. Everyone is a rather dull grey that brings to mind watching a black and white movie.

On the other end of the spectrum, both literally and figuratively, is ” 360 (degree) room for all colours.” As you might guess, this is a circular room made of stretched canvas about eight to nine feet tall. Behind the canvas are lights that slowly pulsate in a variety of colors. The immediate effect of this room is the loss of your sense of depth perception. While this might sound unpleasant, I found myself wanting to stay in this suspendedstate for as long as I could. It lends you the vague sense of floating, as if the world you have come to occupy is shifting under your feet.

The piece “Mosswall” is fairly self explanatory. Inexplicably, the only reaction that it drew from me was laughter–and it was not laughter in a mocking sense. I think just the mild shock of seeing a eighteento twenty foot wall covered in moss while being in a modern building was enough to provoke a knee-jerk response, and that response was laughter. In a completely different sense, the smell of the moss set a distinct mood for the room, even though it was subtle at best. And while we were not able to see this, we were told that the color of he wall changes as the exhibit ages, which brings a totally new side to the piece.

The last piece I will talk about is “Beauty.” This was a nearly pitch black room with a soft light being shone through a light mist coming from the ceiling, causing a small rainbow to dance in the middle of the room. While this was not altogether life-changing, the ability to view the rainbow as almost an isolated object created a unique experience. Also interesting was the extent to which the audience could interact with the rainbow, from playing with the shadow of your hand to walking right threw the mist.

Three Questions:

1. How has the relationship to space, the primary medium of Eliasson, been changed by technology?

2. Does my reaction to the mosswall say anything about what we (or maybe just I) accept as reality in our technology dominated world?

3. Does the loss of color have a meaningful effect on the human psyche, and if so why?

Georges Teyssot

Wednesday, November 18th, 2009

Teyssot focuses on lawns and fences and the implications both have in American society. The idea of boundary is perhaps the most important topic in this chapter. The boundary between the home and the lawn, between your space and your neighbor’s space, between lawn and nature, between what is private and what is public, and so on.

I agreed with several things about these boundaries. One important point is that the lawn is just an extension of the home—a sort of out door room. I equate it with having clean room but a non-made bed. Without the bed, it does not matter how organized the rest of the room is. (Personally, I adopt the “don’t organize anything” approach.) Recently, specifically last summer, I began to undertake the rejuvenation of my father’s house and lawn. Both of these projects progressed in tandem, because—as Teyssot suggests—the lawn is just another part of my home in my mind. However, in terms of how Teyssot says that a lawn is a way to integrate into society, I must disagree. The most telling evidence for my feelings comes from our discussion yesterday. One of the reasons that many of us were hesitant to live in a suburb in the future was what Allie described. Suburbs are often regulated by strict rules, but these would not be a problem if the only desired effect of having a lawn were integration into the norm. Of course, most do not plan to have an extravagant and crazy yard, but I think most people strongly want to have the option to do to their yard what they wish to.

As I said above, I consider the yard almost as a part of the house. While it certainly has a nature feeling to it, I would not consider it Nature. It is sort of a middle ground—like orange is to red and yellow.

The division of public and private space is something that is always interesting to me. One demonstration of how firmly ingrained these rules are in just me is found in a game my friends and I would play in our hometown and surrounding roads. (This game may be widespread, forgive me if I refer to it as specific to my region.) It takes place at night is called Fugitive, and basically, one team is cops and the other is fugitives. The goal of the fugitive is to get to a predesignated point in the town without being caught by the cop team, and they can only use the roads and the outsides of people’s yards. While playing this, you often end up hiding behind a bush or tree, or even car, in someone’s yard, and every time there is an uncomfortable feeling of violating a strangers space. Even if I am only two or three feet into a yard, that feeling persists. I think the lawn has evolved into a space where you need to be invited in order to feel comfortable.

 

Three Questions

 

  1. Are lawns, contrary to popular portrayal, hostile instead of welcoming?
  2. How well do you think people would accept lawn alternatives to grass, such as clover or moss?
  3. Are parks and public spaces in urban areas enough to replace what is lost by the removal of the lawn, if there is anything lost?

Henson and Kolbert

Thursday, November 12th, 2009

Henson’s reading focused on the history of climate change in the media, the—almost always muddled—political involvement, and how that relates to the public opinion. He pays special attention to the objections that skeptic raise. I found that the many small articles about specific areas related to climate change were very helpful in getting a larger picture. He includes such things as the representation of climate change personnel in weather shows, the soon-to-be battle over the arctic, and the connection between the green movement and the church. While reading Henson’s article, the whole time I was thinking about how I was supposed to know whether the information that he was presenting was true. I am sure that if I looked I could find a similar article that just as passionately disputed climate change—or at very least the reasons behind it. And while this is still a point of contention for me, I was extremely relieved to see that Henson supplied a wealth of sources so readers could check for themselves.  His point about the overrepresentation of skeptical viewpoints was very interesting to me. I have been taught to always investigate each side of an argument with equal fervor, but I can see how equal time given to a widely held belief and a tiny minority can cause a problem. While it seems to be fair it really skewers the information.

 

Chapter two from Kolbert focuses on the history of climate detection, recording, and science. I am a bit ashamed that climate change is such a hot topic now (and in the past), but I had never heard of Tyndall, Arrhenius, or Keeling before this reading. The thing that most surprised me was the history of this science. If I had been asked when I though climate change science started, I probably would have said the early seventies. The closing statement in chapter two really interests me. It says that at current trends we will reach a CO2 parts-per-million value of 500 almost 2800 years before Arrhenius predicted. The first thing that came to my mind was how wrong we could potentially be about the predictions made today, and it could possible be even closer than 2050.

Chapter three is largely about the field experience of the reporter in Iceland and Greenland. I think the main point of this chapter is to give the reader some real life evidence of dramatic change in the world. What really got me was the reporter’s double take at the glacier in Iceland, solely because she realized that she might not get a chance to see it again at this size ever again.

Chapter seven is largely about solutions. Most of these solutions come from Robert Socolow. He has devised a series of actions (or wedges) that, if implemented, would prevent a billion metric tons of CO2 from being emitted by 2054 for each wedge that was successful. One of the most interesting thing for me was what Socolow said when asked of his plans were practical, and that was that nothing is ever “practical” until the public views it as important enough to be practical. His brilliant analogy was slavery and child labor. Looking from an economic standpoint, it was very foolish to give up slavery—you save a lot of money when you have an entire workforce that you don’t have to pay. Of course, saying that makes me feel adequately icky, because slavery is a matter of human rights. But climate change is, although maybe not as directly as slavery, also a matter of human rights. The Inuit have a specific way of life that they have had for generations and my (and my country’s) decision to continue my destructive tendencies will force them to change the way they live. Do I have the right to assert my way of life on every one else in the world? Until we have a total paradigm shift it seems the answer to that is yes.

Chapter eight was about Kyoto Protocol and the United States refusal to accept the limitations imposed by it. After all of the other chapters this one felt a little like old news. “Yup—the US is hindering the widespread acceptance of climate change as a legitimate concern—what’s new.”

 

Three Questions:

  1. What could be considered fair for Americans to give up in order to reach a level equal to other countries?
  2. What is it going to take to enforce laws like those of the Kyoto Protocol in the US? Grassroots groups? Proletarian revolt? (That one was a joke——kind of.)
  3. Are the people who are skewering the view in favor of skepticism breaking a moral code? Or, Are these people “bad” because of what they are doing?

Hard Rain and Mary Hambleton

Thursday, October 29th, 2009

If someone had walked up to me on Monday and asked me if I enjoyed abstract art in general, my answer would have been “No,” and after viewing Hambleton exhibit, my answer is still no. I general do not connect to very abstract pieces on an emotional or aesthetic level. However, this does not mean that I cannot see the merit in such pieces. When I initially viewed the exhibit, the only thing I knew about the artist or the exhibit was that the artist had cancer when she made many of the pieces, and that one painting was named after a Bob Dylan song. I am glad that I chose to view them with little background at first, because it allowed me to see them though solely my eyes and form my own first impressions.

 

My general reaction to the exhibit, after I had seen them all once, was, “These are very ambiguous, and many are just plain confusing.” The only painting I liked for purely aesthetic reasons was Quench; it was the only one I would consider putting in my house (if I had a house). I don’t know why this is—perhaps it is simply my affection for the color blue. Although, my general feeling for the exhibit was confusion, there were a few pieces that I thought were relatively unambiguous. Enough was simple—enough. Anger and frustration almost oozed from the work. This is perhaps the only piece that has a seemingly clear message from just looking at the piece and knowing the title. The rest of the exhibit was much more ambiguous to me. Yes, the use of the PET scans and extinct animals certainly transmits a certain feel to the pieces they are included in, but there is far from a set interpretation. Do these mean fear, regret, and a sense of similarity; are they supposed to evoke sympathy? While I do not know about the first few, I do not think that these paintings were meant to pull sympathy. I just do not get that feeling from them. It seems more to me like, “This is how I feel right now, these are things that have occupied my mind recently, and this is what those thought look like.” However, this is just my opinion.

 

After I viewed the whole exhibit I sat and read the essay by Bell. This essay did allow me to look at certain pieces in a new light. The greatest change for me came from Waiting for the Miracle. I had originally passed this one without much thought. However, going back and seeing the apparent movement in the middle, and the progression on top, I did get a much better sense of the waiting and how painful that could be.

There were a few things that I did not quite understand in Bell. First, what seems like (to me, again just my interpretation) an implication that anything related to games, bright color, or blocks was playful or hopeful. While I understand that in the context of these works, these things may indeed represent optimistic and hopeful things, it irks me that it seems as though just because Hambleton began using these certain elements that means she had begun to be more optimistic. I have seen the use of games and bright “happy” colors to transmit pain or confusion or any other emotion commonly portrayed as negative. Even more relevant, the genre of abstract art is so ambiguous and subject to interpretation that any such assertions are going to seem very restrictive. Second—and this is a much smaller matter—was the assertion that Hard Rain was less subtle than the other works of Hambleton. I now know a significant amount the piece and the artist and it is still subtle and up for interpretation for me. This is probably just an argument in semantics—what do I consider subtle and what does Bell consider subtle—but I thought it was worth a mention.

A Few Miyazaki Trailers

Thursday, October 22nd, 2009

Spirited Away: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=h2BM6ACeiVs

Princess Mononoke: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=pkWWWKKA8jY

Ponyo: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5BfNtYF94cQ

Eduardo Kac

Tuesday, October 20th, 2009

In Kac’s introduction he exposes us to Bio Art. One of the first things he implies is that any field, no matter it being astronomy or genetics, is almost immediately grabbed by artists and studied to find a way of “making it art.” Truthfully I would not have thought that this would have happened for genetics, but I will touch more on that in the next paragraph. Beyond just the art of genetics, Kac brings many issues to mind, amonge these are the separation of humans and nonhumans, the difference (or similarities) between natural organisms and organisms that have been altered on a physical or genetic level, the nature of evolution, and so many others I would be rewriting the introduction if I mentioned them all. The first two topics above are very though provoking for me. The difference between humans and nonhumans is as plain as it is complex. As far as I know the process of using animal parts for human transplant is still relatively new, but Kac accurately describes my feeling about it. It makes me queasy and uncomfortable. Even with my, admittedly short, education in genetics, I have learned that humans really are not that special in the genetics department. We share 45% of our DNA with common yeast. The stuff in bread is nearly one-half genetically identical with human DNA, and that number only gets higher as the animals get more complex; culminating with chimps which share as much as 98% of DNA with humans. The though of receiving a transplant from an animal, even a chimp, send gross shivers down my spine, and Kac’s writing began to show me how silly that is.

Similar to this is the topic of natural verses physically and genetically altered. Again my own feeling promptly sprung into the equation when I was reading this. I have a clear bias toward things that are “natural.” This is slightly ironic considering that even I am not 100% natural anymore—or at least the metal in my teeth is not. Any change to our bodies fundamentally changes what is natural, and for the most part we are ok with that, but as Kac points out, there is still a lot of fear connected with genetics.

 

The second reading is basically a catalog of some of Kac’s work. The most interesting piece for me was Move 36. This piece transcribes a passage from the philosopher Descartes into the genetic code of a small plant. This plant is then placed on a platform that resembles a chess board, in the precise square where for the first time ever a machine made a move that was as calculated and subtle as any move any human player could make. I like this piece because it addresses two things that still make people nervous about emerging science: the ability of certain machines to mimic the human mind, and the ability of humans to fiddle around with the code to life. Another aspect of this piece that I like is the passage that was chosen to be transcribed. “I think therefore I am,” pretty much screams that if this machine had the capability to think like human for just a moment, that is it more than just a machine?

 

Three Questions:

 

  1. What I just said: If a machine has the ability to think like a human, if only for a small period, than is it more than a machine?
  2. Is the fear that people feel about the field of genetics just another fear focused on something we don’t yet fully understand, or is it well founded, because we are finally messing with the building blocks of life?
  3. What is it about Bio art that can help people realize their place in evolutionary history? Can we ever accept that we are not something extraordinarily special?

      

Workshop

Thursday, October 1st, 2009

So what times are the workshops at? I checked both sites and they say where, but not when. That or I just missed it, which is very possible. Also, I did not receive an email about the headphones–I don’t know why that is. Either way I know now, but others may have not received it as well.

Familiar Strangers

Tuesday, September 29th, 2009

I am going to try and tackle the Familiar Strangers project by Eric Paulos and Elizabeth Goodman.

Hey, here is the link for the site I used yesterday, the video is almost at the bottom of the page.

http://www.paulos.net/research/intel/familiarstranger/index.htm

Edwin P. Nye

Thursday, September 24th, 2009

The basic tenant of the first half of Nye’s first chapter is that technology, whether we are talking about an Oldowan chopper or a French Super Collider, is a part of what we are as humans. He mentions that humans, as Homo sapiens, have never existed without tools.  Further than that, even Homo habilis, the first organism to be given the Homo genus, used Oldowan tools. We cannot discuss humanity without discussing technology. For all intents and purposes, we are inseparable. The second half of this chapter is about the origin of the term “technology” and its meanings through time. From its beginning in Greek where it only meant a skill in a specific craft, to a manual describing a process, to the current meaning of pretty much anything involving the material or process of changing our environment.

I believe that Nye touches on an important topic here, and also comes to an important conclusion—or if not a conclusion at least an important point. Humans and technology are not two different things, and neither are Nature and technology. Human nature, at least, is technology. The theme of this course is Nature and Technology, and I think why it is, and can be, such an interesting topic is because so many have the belief that these two (forces? ideas?) are diametrically opposed when in reality they are both fundamental parts of what we are.

 

The second of Nye’s chapters is focused on a very simple idea: many people throughout history have thought that technological determinism was correct, but they are all wrong because that is ridiculous. Basically, it has been proposed many times that new technology is so powerful that it, in effect, controls people. However, this view is silly because, as Nye brings up, it completely disregards any concepts of agency. Even in a situation where you may think you know exactly what someone is going to do, they can surprise you. History is full of such things. I don’t speak of grand occurrences like the climax of a movie, but of every day choices.

This link (http://www.walletpop.com/blog/2009/09/22/youtube-ranter-wins-battle-over-interest-rates/) is a perfect example. While you may not agree with her ideas or methods (or language), the point is that she made a specific decision that most people would not expect her to make—a textbook example of the unpredictability of agency in any particular person. Another thing to note is that this woman is placed in her predicament by the allure and power of technology (credit cards), but she makes the decision to rebel.

 

 

Questions:

  1. Has there ever been a situation where you were distinctly aware of your agency. This just means your ability to make a choice, and I mean any choice—not just what you want to have in the dining halls—any choice that you could conceivably carry out.
  2. Why have we demonized technology so much that some people believe that it controls us?
  3. Do tools really exist before the problem that they solve?

Smithson, Williams, and Marx

Tuesday, September 15th, 2009

“A Tour of the Monuments of Passaic, New Jersey” by Robert Smithson, is perhaps the most perplexing short story or article I have ever read. If forced to offer a summary of the article and its argument (as I am now) I would say that he is attempting to show the bleakness and entropy of modern, highly industrialized towns. The town he speaks of—and towns similar to them—has no past to note of, just a future. A future that is black and white and dreary to the point of madness. However, I will not feign complete understanding of this writing—I’ll just have to wait for the discussion tomorrow.

My response to this work is—confusion. Several times he goes off on small asides to express some thought, while I get thrown off his growing idea that is tenuous in the first place. This by far the most narrative and abstract of our reading so far, so comparisons are slim. He does, however, clearly get by the idea of alienation and distance that industrialized places can bring—too much machine and too little garden.

 

“Ideas of Nature” by Raymond Williams, is not surprisingly about our ideas and attitudes about nature. How they have varied, how they are flawed, how they have evolved; these all are important parts of this chapter. However the most important point, arguably, is whether or not man is a part of our ideas about nature. The “nature” of Nature has varied and is still varied today. For some Nature is wild and dangerous, others it is balanced and tranquil, it can be God or it can represent the primitive nature of early man. In an easy connection to Leo Marx, Nature can be an idealized fantasy where everything is warmer, easier, and more loving. In a brilliant statement, Williams describes this diversity: “And ‘Nature is’ any one of these things according to the processes we select…” We can make any assumption about Nature and have at least some evidence to back it up because Nature is so, so varied. As he says, “All at once nature is innocent, is unprovided, is sure, is unsure, is fruitful, is destructive, is a pure force and is tainted and cursed.”

This article is directly related to some of our previous discussions—such as ‘Is man a part of Nature or separate from it?’– and also to Marx. Although it does not focus on one preconception about Nature as Marx does, it has slightly the same feel as Marx’s argument. Williams general idea and his conclusion are close to an idea that I am finding to be more and more true I continue through my education; rarely is any one theory correct outright, often it takes the views from several different theories to get a complete picture.

 

“The Machine in the Garden” by Leo Marx. The main point of this excerpt is that humans in industrialized societies, more specifically the U.S., are almost obsessed with the pastoral ideal. The ideal is that nature is the place of peace and balance and wholeness, and that we have lost something by leaving it. Marx argues that this is present in both the general culture, and in the “high art” literature by some of the most famous Western writers of our time. Marx is disagreeing with this ideal, and throughout the chapter it was plain that he was upset that it existed. This is of course the work for which this course was named, but I feel it deals more with the transition to an industrialized society. He talks often of the intrusion of technology into nature, but now we have already intruded all but the most inhabitable areas. I do not mean to say that his work is now inapplicable—it was only written in 1964—only that the dynamic has changed. Now the whole world is aware and involved in the struggle of nature and machine. The “Green” movement could even be interpreted as the pastoral ideal gaining strength.

 

Three questions:

  1. Is the bleak and depressing picture that Williams paints an exaggeration of the state of industrial centers?
  2. What have we truly lost, if anything, to the transition to industry?
  3. If humanity is not nature, that what is it?