Wednesday, May 21, 2008

public scholarship

Domke argues that scholars have an obligation to make their ideas and findings accessible to the public. I completely agree with this idea, and not just because many universities are funded by taxes. Thinking about this way too abstractly, if ideas and information travel from the World to the University, but not back again, then, for one thing, there's no immediate reason that the integrity of the University's reflection of the World matters. The implication of this is two systems that need not have anything in common, where all of the ideas or laws in one are completely irrelevant in the other. Consider a city and a university in a world where such a scenario exists. The city has long ago stopped sending people to the university or funding it, and the citizens live as though the university doesn't exist; in the university, the dominant theory holds that the city is a fiction created by philosophers who had nothing else to study. Both places can exist autonomously, which is fine, but I am going to make a value judgment and say this situation is bad. Don't contradict me.

Both Domke and Ellison speak about hope. This is directly associated with caring--with being invested in an outcome. Impartiality is traditionally considered the most objective, scientific stance. As we've been talking about in class, however, the scholar is never without bias, so perhaps the most objective position is one of open, authentic subjectivity. This is what I think these authors mean by hope.

In terms of my group's research project, this reading has provided great arguments for why it is important for us to make our results available outside of academia. I am also inclined to be more transparent about my own opinions about all this--still being careful not to let this become an excuse not to do authentic research. That is--and maybe I should really have emphasized this above--it's important to acknowledge one's subjectivity while still striving toward impartial research methods!

Monday, May 19, 2008

Heights of Fashion

The first thing to notice about this troika--and the central accessory--is in the third (bottom) partition: the piece of chair wood in the lower left corner. The hierarchical opposite of the blue knee monolith, it asserts itself as an essential subject, without which the knee's power would seem vain, if not ridiculous. Humble yet unassailable, it stands apart from the rest, and for viewers it provides almost a surrogate perspective or vantage point. It is through this item, then, that the outfit assumes a character of preeminence.

Studying the knee in particular, we observe four primary dark, nearly triangular patches along the river of the seam--a metaphor for the countryside, no doubt. The serpentine though trough-like extension to the southeast further suggests an irrigation channel; the even texture on the opposite side evokes uniform fields of wheat or spinach.

The next partition is clearly a communications grid, whereby we recognize that we are at the central nervous system. White hubs in the center are not merely decorative formalities, but serve as informational relay points. Messages are combined at these units into complete and lucid memories, which facilitate the direct communication between left furrow and right furrow, or Idea and Praxis, respectively. The colors indicate that the bearer is of or related to the Malcolm Clan.

Finally, at top, the outfit puts on a more leisurely expression for the end of the day. The thick, coarse weaving pattern and chaotic but dichromatic incorporation of materials recalls the Hungarian revolution of 1956--the hope, the daring, but ultimately the disaster; just so, the two colors attempt to integrate, but lose cohesion and ultimately distract. Whence the element of repose? It is just this transduction from historical event to vestimentary appendage that produces the energy required for genuine peace of mind. Blocking out all other detail, the sock cannot be denied.

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After reading what the author of the above has written about what I'm wearing, I have to say that I'm not sure that I completely buy his analysis. I could try to give an account of the reasoning that went into my dress in order to contradict him, but on a broader level this would be irrelevant and, even worse, arbitrary: how can a series of rational actions have anything to say about what is immediately, obviously, and empirically apparent? And rational is just the right word--any memory that claims to be the authoritative account of an event is really just a rationalization.

So I won't try to oppose what he has written, especially not by crossing levels. I could, however, add my own level of description, which could serve to complement the other. The sections of sock, shirt, and jeans shown here are part of a larger set of clothing that includes a complete pair of socks, a pair of jeans (one item), and the rest of the shirt, as well as a black t-shirt underneath, and olive-green boxer shorts under the jeans. The jeans are much lighter than they were originally, and the bottoms are slightly torn. This suggests either that I like this worn look, or I don't buy clothes very often. Maybe I'm not interested in my clothes, or maybe I just don't get very many opportunities to buy them. Or maybe it represents an ideal of getting the most out of items and only replacing them when necessary. Being myself, and believing that I know at least certain levels of my thoughts about these things, I can say that the truth is probably a combination of all of these things, to varying degrees. The plaid shirt is very difficult for me to read. It looks newer than the jeans, and obviously has more color, but I think it's pretty mute in another sense. As for the socks, they cannot be denied.