Some thoughts on place and site from members of the class - Eight great archaeological sites
Michael has recorded some aspects of the group discussions here - Brainstorming site - overview
Annie:
Here is an image by Maggie Taylor.
With the right set of metaphors, visual or verbal, anything is subject to description. Any relationship not only definable but indefinitely re-definable. What cognitive tools do we bring to our mental constructs re: place? An analogy is a delineation, a space-making, but also a convergence. What are our anthropomorphic powers, and what terramorphic correspondences might we find in ourselves if we look closely?
The sinister forests, where the trees have fingers, or hair.
--or--
The tangled forest of the human heart.
More to come soon
This is a photo I took in Croatia this summer. Along an empty street, a soldier in a row of sharpnel pock-marked buildings, stands this destroyed Eastern Orthodox church. It is abandoned, its doors swung open as they were left by the pillagers, and a stopped clock on its facade (not shown). More than a disquieting reminder of the contemporary past, it is alive today.
Margo
Tara:
Excerpt from my travel diary from Belize, 20 November 2005:
"We climbed our way out then, and when we finally emerged from the underworld, the sun had come out at last. The difference the sun made was quite striking - the landscape went from creepy, mysterious, and slightly sinister to lush and tropical and rather Eden-esque."
Upon entering the cave complex at Chechem-Hah, I had only seen the country in the midst of a tropical depression - always overcast, usually raining. The previous day, I had climbed the white temple at Xunantunich and looked out over the "Green Sea" of the forest; the visibility was poor, and from the ground, the 130-foot-tall pyramid came and went into the drifting mist with no effort. On the 20th, I followed a guide into the underworld through the unnerving little gate in the picture below - about 3 feet tall - and descended into the thickest darkness I have ever experienced. In the innermost chamber of the cave complex, I saw the Goddess carved into the rock, twenty feet high and watching over the Maya's most sacred of spaces. By the time I had ascended, the sky had cleared. We stepped out of that same gate into spectacular bright green forestation lit to glowing by the sun. The difference was phenomenal - it was a different world, alive with life and vigor, not colored by the same mysterious aura as it had been so far in my visit.
Another thought - intersection of natural and man-made. Here, the tank almost looks like a third tree. Certainly it wasn't always rusted in that way, but in the however many years it's been sitting there, it's weathered in the same way as the trees. So then: how long has it been there? Is there an intention to move it ever, or might it stay in just that place, next to those trees, forever? Who put it there? Was it anticipated that it would stay there so long? Things to think about.
Priyanka:
Music is too often associated with a storyline. There seems to always be a need for movement, forward progress, development, climax, resolution.
However, now I feel that some works seem better without that movement. Some pieces thrive off of the feeling of holding you in midair, suspending you in a scene, trapping you in front of a landscape painting. There is a captivating effect in that breathless pause, that stillness.
It is almost like watching an artist paint, stroke by stroke, a scene is constructed. There is no movement, no change in the scene. You just see more and more of it. It is like taking your hand and wiping away the frost on your car window so you slowly start seeing the details outside, one finger at a time.
Stravinsky wrote “The Firebird Suite” based on a Russian fairytale. This piece seems to be as based on action, plot, and progression as stories get. However, there is one movement, “Berceuse,” which seems to abandon the storyline. It takes the listener and traps them in a single scene, slowly painting, wiping off the frost, revealing the barren Antarctic, a graveyard, a foggy gothic castle, a still lake early in the morning—whatever else the mind may create.
This movement seems to grab the listener, take them aside, steady them from the incredible drama of the other movements, and truly reveal to them the concept of pure place (unadulterated by any movement, progression, or story). What that place may be, that is up to interpretation. But the movement is undeniably, irrefutably, wreaking of place, just place. For four minutes, “The Firebird Suite” holds its breath and allows place to take over story.
16 Berceuse.mp3In case anyone is interesting in listening to the entire suite, here it is:
This piece, along with another great Stravinsky work (my favorite) The Rite of Spring, portray a sort of carnal primitivity with moments of overwhelming calm interpersed. Stravinsky has mastered the representation of the otherworldly.
Denis:
Place is more than what it necessarily appears to be. Sometimes, the history of a location can play as great a role in the emotions and thoughts tied to a place as the way we see it. For instance:
This artists rendition of an aerial countryside would seem insignificant without the benefit of historical perspective. There's nothing particularly unusual about the scenery depicted, and it could reasonably be nearly any countryside in temperate climates. But the knowledge of history changes something about this place.
Does knowing that this is a depiction of the Gettysburg, Pa. battleground of the American Civil War change this image's significance? Of course it does. Suddenly the place shown takes on all sorts of romantic and highly charged ideals. To some interpretations, this becomes the site of the most crucial turn of events in American history. The words of Abraham Lincoln ring true here in our study of place and history's impact upon it:
"But, in a larger sense, we can not dedicate -- we can not consecrate -- we can not hallow -- this ground. The brave men, living and dead, who struggled here, have consecrated it, far above our poor power to add or detract. The world will little note, nor long remember what we say here, but it can never forget what they did here. It is for us the living, rather, to be dedicated here to the unfinished work which they who fought here have thus far so nobly advanced. It is rather for us to be here dedicated to the great task remaining before us -- that from these honored dead we take increased devotion to that cause for which they gave the last full measure of devotion -- that we here highly resolve that these dead shall not have died in vain -- that this nation, under God, shall have a new birth of freedom -- and that government of the people, by the people, for the people, shall not perish from the earth." --Abraham Lincoln, Nov. 19, 1863
The epic words of Lincoln have become so intertwined with Gettysburg that they have essentially become a part of its central identity as a place. As such, the fields and hills presented here become symbolic of freedom, liberty, sacrifice, and fate. And the great, titanic struggle that took place there is remembered for its historical significance.
It is more than mere geography and physical structures that make up our perception of place. It is the significance of what happened there and why. Sometimes, this perception can go beyond historical accuracy.
For instance, Gettysburg has often been portrayed as the great turning point of the Civil War, but while it undoubtedly was the single most important battle, many historians have questioned its overall importance. Some would argue that, from the beginning, the South never had a chance in the conflict, and that the great advantages of population, industry, and other resources were so overwhelmingly possessed by the North, that the outcome of the war was all but assured before it even began.
But regardless of that particular historical viewpoint, the romantic image of Gettysburg has already been set, and cannot be reversed.
Dealing With Place - Rouen Cathedral
Rouen Cathedral is located west by northwest of Paris. It was originally completed in 1063, and has been seen by millions if not billions of people over time. However, these are many factors when it comes to seeing a site. Monet painted more than thirty oil paintings of Rouen Cathedral. His impressionist style made for very interesting estimated images of the site, which the average visitor could not extract from the actual cathedral. This expertise of Monet creates a whole new way to look at Rouen Cathedral. Other than great artistic ability Monet took into account light. He painted during different seasons and different times of day, allowing him to create many unique paintings of the same place.
A lot can be learned from Monet’s experience at Rouen Cathedral in relation to site reporting. A certain expertise can make a huge difference when it comes to how an individual sees a sight. For example, a photographer of Rouen Cathedral today would create very different images than Monet. Neither image is better or worse, but a more thorough site report would include both. Furthermore, the influence of light and season on a site is easy to be over looked. However, as we have seen at Stone Hendge and at Rouen light and season can really change the characteristics or a site, and a good site report should account for these factors.
Rouen Cathedral: Full Sunlight, 1894
Claude Monet
Rouen Cathedral: Dull Weather, 1894 Claude Monet
Rouen Cathedral: Full Sunlight Harmony in Blue Claude Monet
Rouen Cathedral
Rachel:
This is a poem written by Robert Burns in 1789. Though I have never been to the river in Scotland Burns is describing, I feel a certain affinity with the place. I was first exposed to this poem as it was set to music by the bluegrass/folk band, Nickel Creek.
Flow gently, sweet Afton, among thy green braes, Flow gently, I'll sing thee a song in thy praise; My Mary's asleep by thy murmuring stream, Flow gently, sweet Afton, disturb not her dream.
Thou stock-dove whose echo resounds thro' the glen, Ye wild whistling blackbirds in yon thorny den, Thou green-crested lapwing, thy screaming forebear, I charge you disturb not my slumbering fair.
How lofty, sweet Afton, thy neighboring hills, Far mark'd with the courses of clear winding rills, There daily I wander as noon rises high My flocks and my Mary's sweet cot in my eye.
How pleasant thy banks and green valleys below, Where wild in the woodlands the primroses blow; There oft as mild Ev'ning weeps over the lea The sweet scented birk shades my Mary and me.
Thy crystal stream, Afton, how lovely it glides, And winds by the cot where my Mary resides, How wanton thy waters her snowy feet lave, As gathering sweet flow'rets she stems thy clear wave.
Flow gently, sweet Afton, among thy green braes, Flow gently, sweet river, the theme of my lays, My Mary's asleep by thy murmuring stream, Flow gently, sweet Afton, disturb not her dream.
If you want to hear Nickel Creek's take on Sweet Afton, here it is:
(Thank you! Whoever put this MP3 up for me! :-) I was distracted before I could come back and put it up myself...)
I want to make several points about this poem.
1. You don’t have to have visited a place to feel a certain attachment to it. Effective descriptions can make an audience feel fascination for a place they have never actually experienced.
2. Effective descriptions of place engage more than one sense. Most obviously, “Sweet Afton” engages the sense of hearing through poetic conventions (rhyme, meter, repetition), which imitate the rhythm of a flowing river. However, the imagery the author chooses also stimulates visual, tactile, and olfactory sensitivities. For example, when he writes, “where wild in the woodlands the primroses blow,” he could have chosen to use the word “grow” to complete the rhyme, but chose “blow” instead. “Blow” evokes a sense of fragrance, of the scent of flowers being carried on the wind, and in this way is more effective than “grow” in engaging the audience with the place being described. By having all the senses engaged in the description, the audience feels a stronger connection to the place being described.
3. The perspective from which the speaker describes a place influences the portrayal. In this example, the speaker’s depiction is colored by the fact that someone he cares deeply about lives by the river he is describing. As a result, the landscape is transformed into a pastoral world of peace and tranquility, where even the river and the birds demonstrate a certain sensitivity to the human presence in the landscape. The true landscape is probably not as pleasant as the speaker makes it out to be, but the important part is this is his conception of place. Place is an individuated concept.
4. Part of the appeal of this poem is it's antiquated form of English, which contributes to the poem’s nostalgic tone and appeals to a modern audience. Such pastoral woodlands or quaint cottages dotting the countryside belong to a simpler time when life was much more picturesque and innocent than it is now. A modern audience would find such images comforting contrasts to fast-paced, urban life.
Nafis:
The above images depict the destruction and despair wrought by Hurricane Katrina. Images similar to these immediately inundated televisions and newspapers across the nation, allowing people understand the effect of the storm in the Gulf Coast region.
I am from Hammond, LA a small town and hour north of New Orleans. So, in the days following the storm, the rest of you probably understood the extent of the hurricane’s wrath much better that I did. Nothing was severely damaged in our town, but we had no electricity for 11 days after the storm, causing us to lose touch with the outside world. It was a very bizarre feeling being so close to New Orleans, but having no information of what was going on.
When we finally had access to the news, we quickly were exposed to images similar to the ones above. The first satellite image of the flooding of New Orleans, poorly represent the destruction of the storm. While yes, we see the flooded streets and destroyed Super Dome; we see nothing of the effect on the people of this place. Sitting in my home, i could imagine, even calculate, the physical damage that the storm caused. Maybe 10 times, 100 times more damage than I experienced in Hammond. However, the effect on the people was unfathomable.
Only do the next three images appropriately depict place, for they display to us the affect of place on the inhabitants. Images of people being rescued, children in the midst of the rubble of their former homes and the houses tagged with the number of dead inside show us the real place.
The connection between place and people must be present for an accurate illustration. The feelings that this connection evokes can carry us closer to this place than any physical means (even if one is only driving distance away).
Vivian
Writing about place: “Midnight’s Children” by Salman Rushdie
In this novel Rushdie tells the story of India’s independence through the life of the main character Saleem, a boy born on the stroke of midnight at the moment of the nation’s birth. Saleem’s life is figuratively, literally, and inextricably tied to the fate of India as his personal experiences reflect, cause, and often bear the brunt of India’s events. This novel is indisputably about place (India, and at times, Pakistan) yet Rushdie never personifies either country, or does so sparsely that “India” never has agency, even figuratively. Instead, the place unfolds through the life of Saleem even as he is separated from his birth country. Rushdie constructs a life for his places from the life of Saleem and advances the place not through descriptions of scenery or location, but through the historic events that truly shape the persona of a nation as experienced by a person. While born from Saleem, India in “Midnight’s Children” becomes not only a place but a dynamic character in its own right.
This is a photograph I took in south India this past winter break. Place can be defined by the people who live and use the place. In this photo, this place provides a livelihood for fisherman and supports a traditional way of life. This is not just a lake with a sunrise; this is a place that supports families and villages. To observe these fishermen, wearing traditional clothing and using non-mechanized technology defined this place for me. Far from just a lake in the south of India, this is a place of cultural significance. For me, this scene reminds me of trips to Sri Lanka as a child and spending summers at my grandfather’s house in a small, rural village. In contrast to the fast paced lifestyle of the United States and cities, life moves slower in rural Sri Lanka. These fisherman remind of a man who sold fish in the village; he had a wooden basket affixed to his bicycle filled with fish and he would ride down the main street shouting “fish, fish” in Sinhalese.
Erica
Cinque Terre, Italy
Some say its the most beautiful place in the world... 5 little towns all in a row with dozens of paths winding their way through... a mosaic of colorful houses clinging to the cliffside over a roaring ocean... vineyards terraced along the cliff face... sailboats rolling to the waves...
Helen
I was born in Dalian, China, a "medium-sized" city of about 2-3 million people. In 1986, the economy was still Communist, and my parents had to buy milk for me with ration tickets. Even when I returned to visit in 1995, we crossed an open bridge that spanned an open sewer on our way to the market.
I'm not sure when this photograph was taken, but it reminds me of the Dalian I knew as a child. Most of the city's buildings are apartment buildings that top out at 7 floors, the tallest a building can be without an elevator. I used to wonder why all the buildings were various shades of brown, depending on how old they were. However, on the perimeter of the photograph, one can see a few tall shiny skyscrapers, and many more skyscrapers under construction.
This photograph is more recent. Dalian looks completely different now, but if you drive into the city, you can still find many of those old brown rectangular apartment buildings. The city has a plan to completely rebuild and redefine itself as a modern metropolis. Photographs of Dalian over the years define a place that is evolving, and the energy of the people who are driving the evolution. Although it is easiest to see the changes by looking at Dalian's skyline, more detailed looks will show that Dalian's lifestyle is also changing. Bicycles are virtually extinct, and Dalian's shopping malls dwarf the size of most malls in America.
Ian Schildkret
Travel guides are meant for those who hope to visit a foreign land.
No duh, right?
But what if they never make it? (Does it really matter?)
On the non-academic (read: unused) shelf of books next to my desk sits “The Rough Guide to Italy.” If you’ve never heard of the company, their sales department’s buzzword seems to be practicality.
Color and pictures (with the notable exception of ever-useful maps) are kept to a bare minimum, after the dazzling photo introduction.
Here’s the book for those who are serious about their leisure travel! Its readers will never admit to any illusions of romance. For they are too busy, booking flight reservations (p. 11), finding the cheapest hostels (p. 34), impartially comparing the cuisines of Lazio (p.707) and Emilia-Romagna (p. 407).
Or are they on pagina 1198, memorizing the Italian word for “volcanic vapour emission from the ground?” Are they soaking in the fables of Ancient Rome’s founding (p.711)? Are they fantasizing about the various beaches, gelaterie, and nightclubs?
Here’s the thing about this book: despite its approach, it still (like all such books) capitalizes on our longings for adventure and escape. In the first colorful page of the introduction, it casually drops some very loose stereotypes: “the (Italian) obsession with clothes and image” and a nation-wide will “to embrace life to the full.”
Do we really believe that any of life’s fundamental truths vary from one land to another? Do we actually believe different company or a different climate will change us?
On the front cover is a quote of immaterial content by Bill Bryson, an author best known for his impromptu (yet still fully realized) trek up the Appalachian mountain range. Your voyage will be realized too, this book is hinting.
Alex:
One thing that always draws me in about anything is whether there is mystery associated with it. "Historical" facts - whether about a place, a man, a painting, a sculpture, a country - can only go so far. Everyone has heard the cliche saying that "its not about the destination, its the journey that matters." I cant help but extend this to anything that holds a place of interest in our minds. As a culture, we are poised on results, facts, and attaining knowledge. Yet once we achieve a certain knowledge, a certain result, or have a plain fact ascerted to us, what do we do? We delve further. Try to see what has yet to be discovered. It is the mysterious, the unknown, the questionable which gives us hope and makes us fully utilize our human potential.
It is a strange anomaly: we look for answers to create more questions.
It is for this reason that I have a strong fascination with the surrealist paintings. Salvador Dali and Hierronemous Bosch who in my mind have incorporated this strange anomaly of human curiousity in all of their works.
Metamorphosis of Narcisus:
We begin by thinking simply: Are they rocks? Are they hands? Is that an egg? A flower from an egg? Slowly our questions become answers. Birth. Rebirth. People. Nude. This continues until we realize that there is more to the painting than we could ever uncover. Think we could uncover. Fascination sets in with a mix of admiration. Confusion maybe? We still do not know what the image of the flower from the egg signifies. "I need to come back here. I need to see this again" We believe in ourselves, our investigational powers: "I can figure this out... I can see the metamorphosis..." Yet we soon realize that no matter how many explanations we can conceive of, we will never know the true intent of the author. We will never reveal all of his secrets. All of his knowledge. At this thought, one could very upset, and leave. Walk away. Never think of it again. "Whatever" is the popular phrase that comes to mind. Or. Or...
I smile as the initial wave of sadness passes. Realization sets in. Realization of the very anomaly which started this process. "I will never figure this out" I think happily. "An eternal mystery..."
And then...then...I look again. An egg. a flower. the rock in the shape of a hand. Outstretched. holding on. A perfect metamorphosis stilled mid-frame by one brush stroke. Again, the recurring wave again...admiration. confusion maybe? "I need to come back here. I need to see this again."
(will post pictures soon)
Between Willa Cather and the New York Times, country and city have become two uniquely described entities of human civilization. Cather on the prairie, the Times on urbanity. Between the two, we have cultures and traditions and progress and history, ideas of identity and ideas of the future and possible futures.
Cather, like no other, is an architect of the built environment; she walks you along the flat plains until you hit some small relic of intelligent existence, animal or human, and then raises your eyes to the human settlement rising out of the land. In her own incomparable words;
"One January day, thirty years ago, the little town of Hanover, anchored on a windy Nebraska tableland, was trying not to be blown away. A mist of fine snowflakes was curling and eddying about the cluster of low drab buildings huddled on the gray prairie, under a gray sky...At the hitch-bars along the street a few heavy work-horses, harnessed to farm wagons, shivered under their blankkets. About the station everything was quiet, for there would not be another train in until night."
"The land belongs to the future... that's the way it seems to me....I might as well try to will the sunset over there to my brother's children. We come and go, but the land is always here. And the people who love it and understand it are the people who own it -- for a little while."
The frontpage of the NYTimes defines my New York, my city.
It represents the people; the fashion, entertainment, sports, literature.
It presents scientific developments, international developments, business developments.
It gives photo essays and graphs and guides depicting the world.
But ultimately, it's the people that make the newspaper local. The crimes, the concerns, the op-eds, the outrages.
The quotes and pictures and 4th grade level writing.
It's the classically intellectual I-heart-NY symbol.
Caroline
