Traveling to some exotic part of the world to undertake an ethnographic research project would be exciting and different. However, I believe there are enough topics to explore and understand, enough options to be undertaken and questions to be answered to keep me right here in America. The inspiration for my analysis is based on a current personal experience. Presently, my husband and his siblings are wrestling with moving their 85 year-old mother to an assisted-living facility, as she is unable to continue living independently. She cannot take care of herself any longer, needing assistance to dress, to ensure she is eating right, to cut her meat at meals, to ensure she takes her medications, and a general need for 24-hour surveillance for her protection. This personal circumstance inspires me to study the new intentional communities that the elderly and frail are integrated into when they are moved to assisted-living accommodations.
I believe this would be a worthwhile study, because with the significant population of the aging Baby Boomer generation, there will be increased demand for intentional communities to help the Baby Boomers live and deal with their daily lives. All that can be learned to understand why some are successful and why some are not, is input into helping ready a large portion of the United States population for later life circumstances.
People who join this type of intentional community are brought together due to circumstance. They come from varied backgrounds and different everyday experiences. They have different values, traditions, and ways of thinking and behaving. They have to build new routines and meet new people while struggling with the sense of loss they feel in leaving their “old world” behind. Is their acceptance of their new home influenced by whether they planned ahead and voluntarily moved? Did their medical condition or family force the move against their will, and therefore impacts their acceptance and induction into the new community? Yet after the move-in, they begin, hopefully, to form new relationships with people in their new community. How do the new relationships and new groups within the community form? How deep do they get? Are there new rituals and traditions that get initiated which become meaningful? What about the old traditions, celebrations, and rituals; does the family keep those alive bridging the past with the present? Does family geography and frequency of visits affect acceptance? Do those who are happiest with the new living arrangement become that way because they find others and develop common interests, new rituals and traditions? Is that commonality based on or driven by age, gender, their belief systems, common verbal, customary or material interests, their values, common experiences, their medical conditions or something else? How do the members of this group communicate creatively? My approach to fieldwork would be observation and interviews. It would include the residents themselves, the care-giving help, the families and visitors to the facility that bring forms of celebration, culture and new interests to the residents. It would include visiting different facilities first locally, and then expanding out geographically dependent upon the results of the local study.
Folklore reaches groups of people who share personal connections. As I visited my mother-in-law’s facility this last Friday evening, a group of elderly, most in wheelchairs, sat in the living room/reception area around a piano and sang World War II era songs as a pianist, one of their own, accompanied them on the piano. These residents have formed a new, informal, folklore community. Based on common interests and maybe some of their old traditions, they have found creative ways to share together, possibly bridging or creating new traditions and rituals, like their Friday night sing-along.
This blog entry is my response to the Chapter Seven Reflection Question.
Sunday, April 20, 2008
Friday, April 11, 2008
The Routes to My Roots
In Tyler’s blog posting titled St. Patrick’s Day, it is evident his family enjoys celebrating their “roots.” They have traveled the “route” to Wexford, Ireland many times to relish the traditions, rituals and performances of the holiday and to celebrate their heritage.
His article reminded me of my roots. I grew up knowing I was Irish. My father shared with me his Irish heritage and instilled pride. Yet, it was not until my late forties that I obtained genealogy information from a distant relative who had traced our family tree back to Ireland. My great-great-great grandfather, Patrick McCrea, a medical doctor, came from Ireland to America in 1797, settling in northern Pennsylvania. This gave my husband an idea for my 50th birthday, and he surprised me with the perfect gift, a trip to Ireland to visit the homeland of my ancestors. In 2002, we headed to Ireland for a two and one-half week trip. We found the country beautiful, the people delightful, the history intriguing, and the pubs, like Tyler said, a wonderful gathering place. What we did not find in Ireland was … any McCreas.
As you get older, you become more inquisitive about your past, as you realize you are coming closer to becoming part of that past. After returning home, we were bolstered to do further research, and discovered that Patrick McCrea’s ancestors had come to Ireland from Scotland. Patrick later headed to America, almost fifty years before the Irish Potato Famine, a time when many Irish people immigrated to the United States. In 2004, my husband and I traveled to Scotland, and enjoyed the “other” country of my ancestors, Scotland, discovering there the home of the MacRae clan in the Kintail district. The routes I traveled in Ireland and Scotland finally led me to my true roots.
My heritage is Scottish. The MacRae’s were a clan, with a crest, a motto, dress and hunting tartans, and even a castle. But I am also Irish with a special day for celebrating that ancestry. As a Scot-Irish, I enjoy the best of both roots.
This is the second peer review blog posting.
His article reminded me of my roots. I grew up knowing I was Irish. My father shared with me his Irish heritage and instilled pride. Yet, it was not until my late forties that I obtained genealogy information from a distant relative who had traced our family tree back to Ireland. My great-great-great grandfather, Patrick McCrea, a medical doctor, came from Ireland to America in 1797, settling in northern Pennsylvania. This gave my husband an idea for my 50th birthday, and he surprised me with the perfect gift, a trip to Ireland to visit the homeland of my ancestors. In 2002, we headed to Ireland for a two and one-half week trip. We found the country beautiful, the people delightful, the history intriguing, and the pubs, like Tyler said, a wonderful gathering place. What we did not find in Ireland was … any McCreas.
As you get older, you become more inquisitive about your past, as you realize you are coming closer to becoming part of that past. After returning home, we were bolstered to do further research, and discovered that Patrick McCrea’s ancestors had come to Ireland from Scotland. Patrick later headed to America, almost fifty years before the Irish Potato Famine, a time when many Irish people immigrated to the United States. In 2004, my husband and I traveled to Scotland, and enjoyed the “other” country of my ancestors, Scotland, discovering there the home of the MacRae clan in the Kintail district. The routes I traveled in Ireland and Scotland finally led me to my true roots.
My heritage is Scottish. The MacRae’s were a clan, with a crest, a motto, dress and hunting tartans, and even a castle. But I am also Irish with a special day for celebrating that ancestry. As a Scot-Irish, I enjoy the best of both roots.
This is the second peer review blog posting.
Sunday, April 6, 2008
Folklorists' Interpretive Approaches
In assessing the interpretive methods used by folklorists as described in Living Folklore Chapter 6 “Approaches to Interpreting Folklore,” I was drawn to the post-structuralist approaches: feminist interpretations, reciprocal ethnography, and intersectionality. These three methods, in combination with each other, could be quite strong in capturing the total essence needed to best understand the dimensions affecting folklore interpretation.
It seems logical that male folklorists, who are in a profession that has been historically male-dominated, bring their masculine biases, viewpoints and approaches to their fieldwork and are inherently influenced by those masculine experiences, perspectives and stereotypes. What they studied and how they interpreted what they studied could be affected by their gender and past experiences in a male dominated society. This is supported in the statement that folklorists came to the “realization that a relatively small number of studies and articles had been published about women’s culture” (193). Without the feminine perspective, this has possibly created an unbalanced and misrepresented set of analysis results. It should be considered whether the studies of folk cultures by male folklorists have subconsciously and erroneously downplayed or dismissed the roles and influences of females in those studies. Therefore, for me, it introduces the possibility of flawed and incomplete studies, devoid of the female perspective, though women make up more than half of the population of the world.
A strong point is made that the feminist interpretations approach created a means “to think about all folklore study,” determining how “socially and politically constructed assumptions can marginalize some groups that don’t belong to a dominant group’s definition of mainstream” (195). This reiterates the probable gaps in the male folklorist studies as noted above and emphasizes the need for a worldview, calling for the interactions or intersection of a multitude of elements beyond just gender such as age, politics and power, religion, class, ethnicity, sexuality, and others. This defines and opens the door to understanding the intersectionality approach.
Intersectionality links with the feminist interpretations approach, acknowledging that there are a variety of factors “that shape the underlying values and relationships we often express through folklore” (199). To perform thorough analysis, the folklorist should take into perspective all of the influencing factors, versus adopting a parochial view, using just one or two factors. Intersectionality undertakes a way to hypothesize about the combination of varied interactions of all involved, the “performer, performance, audience and observers” (200).
In the feminist interpretations approach, it has been offered that “women’s communication is often “process-centered and collaborative” (195). This collaborative approach has opened the door to collaborating with folk insiders, and incorporating the insider viewpoint in the folklorists’ interpretations. This collaboration is a direct entrée to the reciprocal ethnography approach. The emphasis here is on the people who are being studied by the folklorist knowing best what the folk culture is and what it means. This requires the folklorist to collaborate with the insiders and incorporate their points of view in the interpretation, versus providing only an academic version from the folklorist’s perspective.
The feminist interpretations approach has been the genesis for two other, more complimentary approaches being developed to folklore interpretations – reciprocal ethnography and intersectionality. These approaches are more inclusive and multi-dimensional. They allow the larger influences and cultural forces to be considered to better understand the meanings of folklore.
This blog entry is my response to the Chapter Six Reflection Question.
References
Sims, M. C., & Stephens, M. (2005). Living folklore an introduction to the study of people and their their traditions. Utah: Utah State University Press.
It seems logical that male folklorists, who are in a profession that has been historically male-dominated, bring their masculine biases, viewpoints and approaches to their fieldwork and are inherently influenced by those masculine experiences, perspectives and stereotypes. What they studied and how they interpreted what they studied could be affected by their gender and past experiences in a male dominated society. This is supported in the statement that folklorists came to the “realization that a relatively small number of studies and articles had been published about women’s culture” (193). Without the feminine perspective, this has possibly created an unbalanced and misrepresented set of analysis results. It should be considered whether the studies of folk cultures by male folklorists have subconsciously and erroneously downplayed or dismissed the roles and influences of females in those studies. Therefore, for me, it introduces the possibility of flawed and incomplete studies, devoid of the female perspective, though women make up more than half of the population of the world.
A strong point is made that the feminist interpretations approach created a means “to think about all folklore study,” determining how “socially and politically constructed assumptions can marginalize some groups that don’t belong to a dominant group’s definition of mainstream” (195). This reiterates the probable gaps in the male folklorist studies as noted above and emphasizes the need for a worldview, calling for the interactions or intersection of a multitude of elements beyond just gender such as age, politics and power, religion, class, ethnicity, sexuality, and others. This defines and opens the door to understanding the intersectionality approach.
Intersectionality links with the feminist interpretations approach, acknowledging that there are a variety of factors “that shape the underlying values and relationships we often express through folklore” (199). To perform thorough analysis, the folklorist should take into perspective all of the influencing factors, versus adopting a parochial view, using just one or two factors. Intersectionality undertakes a way to hypothesize about the combination of varied interactions of all involved, the “performer, performance, audience and observers” (200).
In the feminist interpretations approach, it has been offered that “women’s communication is often “process-centered and collaborative” (195). This collaborative approach has opened the door to collaborating with folk insiders, and incorporating the insider viewpoint in the folklorists’ interpretations. This collaboration is a direct entrée to the reciprocal ethnography approach. The emphasis here is on the people who are being studied by the folklorist knowing best what the folk culture is and what it means. This requires the folklorist to collaborate with the insiders and incorporate their points of view in the interpretation, versus providing only an academic version from the folklorist’s perspective.
The feminist interpretations approach has been the genesis for two other, more complimentary approaches being developed to folklore interpretations – reciprocal ethnography and intersectionality. These approaches are more inclusive and multi-dimensional. They allow the larger influences and cultural forces to be considered to better understand the meanings of folklore.
This blog entry is my response to the Chapter Six Reflection Question.
References
Sims, M. C., & Stephens, M. (2005). Living folklore an introduction to the study of people and their their traditions. Utah: Utah State University Press.
Sunday, March 30, 2008
A Musical Knundrum
Noel Niehaus is a waiter at Yogi’s Restaurant. His real occupation and passion is musical performance. Noel is a songwriter, musician and performer. He says that music gives him a sense of connection. To him, “it’s his home.” With music he can be himself. When he is composing, playing and singing, he feels he is the most honest person he can be, true to himself.
Noel is a self-taught musician. He has had no formal training. He may have inherited his love of music naturally, as his family has a musical and acting heritage. His father’s family had several musicians. His great grand uncle, until the age of 85, played sax and other horn instruments in a Big Band era music band. He was a role model and inspiration for Noel, and sadly died two years ago. His father was not as musical, but his mother was a singer in the church choir and played piano. Noel says there was always music in his home, growing up. His older siblings are artistic and both ultimately became theatrical actors. Their parents “forced” his siblings to take piano lessons when they were young and they rebelled. Noel, as the youngest child, was never forced to take piano lessons, and he never did. Yet, today he plays the piano by ear as well as rhythm guitar, both totally self-taught.
Noel started singing in school. He recalls his first solo at the age of seven in a third grade musical. He loved the acting that went with the singing. From a very young age, and until puberty, he could hit a high C, so his natural skill got him recognized more as a singer than an actor. During his sixth grade year, he won the state-wide COY singing contest and was named Indiana’s best young male vocalist. That same year he attended an Elton John’s concert which subconsciously set his professional direction. Though his parents did not support his professional musical direction, they gave him the freedom to pursue his dream. Noel stays in touch with his elementary teacher. She encouraged his gift for singing and built his confidence early in his life.
As a songwriter, Noel has written about ninety songs. He has sold one song, though the major focus of his songwriting is for his band, Knundrum, to perform, vis-à-vis both their albums and their live performances. Songwriting is a creative process for him. He writes “when the mood hits”. He says it is a gut feeling. The notes and the words come to him due to some drama in his life, or he creates drama so that he can write a song. Songwriting is a release. His first song was inspired by a breakup with a girl and he needed an outlet to vent. That first song was named “Separate Ways.” He says he learns from his songs though sometimes it takes years for him to learn the lesson. Music, he says, is the greatest teacher I have ever had. Negative incidents initiate his songwriting, though ultimately his songs have a positive vibe. His songs speak of life’s experiences, a peaceful, better world, and relationships with nature, thus interpreting situations in positive ways. There is something to learn from his songs.
Noel likes creating music. Sometimes creation comes together at one sitting, and other times over a long period. Lyrics come to him spontaneously, often outside the period when he is songwriting. He gets the lyrics out of his head and onto paper, whether for a song now or later. Like art, Noel says the key to his writing songs is to determine when the song is complete. He has some lyrics that are still “not done” after seven years. With the lyrics documented, he develops four chord progressions to develop the melody for the lyrics, and the rest is in his head. He remembers all his songs, even when they are in the formative stages. Then it becomes a team effort by the band. Noel plays the melody, with the band becoming part of the creative process to fill in the harmony, the rhythm, and the beat. In their repertoire, they have instrumentals as well as lyrical songs.
The band is in the studio during the year and on the road in the summer. They are currently working on album five and six – one is a studio album and one is a recording of a live performance from one of their shows. They are also working on a DVD recording; the visual is complete and the music recording is now underway. The band averages about 14 live shows a year, one or two a month. Their songs are accessible online, with royalty income for I-Tunes, Rhapsody, Music Match, Verizon, and Cingular downloads.
Noel says Knundrum’s sound is distinguishably theirs. He calls it world fusion, a jazz eclectic fusion genre, or new age folk rock. Their website describes it as “bluegrass fused with new age folk rock and psychedelic jazz." One can listen to his music by accessing www.knundrum.com. When asked how Knundrum gauges success with its live audience, Noel’s reply was multi-faceted. The tangible indicators include repeat bookings by the venue, onsite purchase of CDs and DVDs, supportive emails by audience members, and thank yous at the performance’s end. The emotional indicators are the goose bumps he gets during some performances, feeling the vibes of the audience and reacting to their callbacks at the performance’s end.
Though he is in music because he loves it, ultimately it is a chosen vocation. Noel sees his music as his legacy, for others to enjoy one hundred years from now. He is proud of his family’s musical and dramatic heritage and sees himself as adding to that tradition. Noel foresees a future in music that will sustain him and the other band members. His gut feeling is that his musical career will work out eventually. The challenge is keeping the band interested and together long enough for this to happen.
This blog entry is my response to Encounter Project Four, Material Culture (Artist).
Noel is a self-taught musician. He has had no formal training. He may have inherited his love of music naturally, as his family has a musical and acting heritage. His father’s family had several musicians. His great grand uncle, until the age of 85, played sax and other horn instruments in a Big Band era music band. He was a role model and inspiration for Noel, and sadly died two years ago. His father was not as musical, but his mother was a singer in the church choir and played piano. Noel says there was always music in his home, growing up. His older siblings are artistic and both ultimately became theatrical actors. Their parents “forced” his siblings to take piano lessons when they were young and they rebelled. Noel, as the youngest child, was never forced to take piano lessons, and he never did. Yet, today he plays the piano by ear as well as rhythm guitar, both totally self-taught.
Noel started singing in school. He recalls his first solo at the age of seven in a third grade musical. He loved the acting that went with the singing. From a very young age, and until puberty, he could hit a high C, so his natural skill got him recognized more as a singer than an actor. During his sixth grade year, he won the state-wide COY singing contest and was named Indiana’s best young male vocalist. That same year he attended an Elton John’s concert which subconsciously set his professional direction. Though his parents did not support his professional musical direction, they gave him the freedom to pursue his dream. Noel stays in touch with his elementary teacher. She encouraged his gift for singing and built his confidence early in his life.
As a songwriter, Noel has written about ninety songs. He has sold one song, though the major focus of his songwriting is for his band, Knundrum, to perform, vis-à-vis both their albums and their live performances. Songwriting is a creative process for him. He writes “when the mood hits”. He says it is a gut feeling. The notes and the words come to him due to some drama in his life, or he creates drama so that he can write a song. Songwriting is a release. His first song was inspired by a breakup with a girl and he needed an outlet to vent. That first song was named “Separate Ways.” He says he learns from his songs though sometimes it takes years for him to learn the lesson. Music, he says, is the greatest teacher I have ever had. Negative incidents initiate his songwriting, though ultimately his songs have a positive vibe. His songs speak of life’s experiences, a peaceful, better world, and relationships with nature, thus interpreting situations in positive ways. There is something to learn from his songs.
Noel likes creating music. Sometimes creation comes together at one sitting, and other times over a long period. Lyrics come to him spontaneously, often outside the period when he is songwriting. He gets the lyrics out of his head and onto paper, whether for a song now or later. Like art, Noel says the key to his writing songs is to determine when the song is complete. He has some lyrics that are still “not done” after seven years. With the lyrics documented, he develops four chord progressions to develop the melody for the lyrics, and the rest is in his head. He remembers all his songs, even when they are in the formative stages. Then it becomes a team effort by the band. Noel plays the melody, with the band becoming part of the creative process to fill in the harmony, the rhythm, and the beat. In their repertoire, they have instrumentals as well as lyrical songs.
The band is in the studio during the year and on the road in the summer. They are currently working on album five and six – one is a studio album and one is a recording of a live performance from one of their shows. They are also working on a DVD recording; the visual is complete and the music recording is now underway. The band averages about 14 live shows a year, one or two a month. Their songs are accessible online, with royalty income for I-Tunes, Rhapsody, Music Match, Verizon, and Cingular downloads.
Noel says Knundrum’s sound is distinguishably theirs. He calls it world fusion, a jazz eclectic fusion genre, or new age folk rock. Their website describes it as “bluegrass fused with new age folk rock and psychedelic jazz." One can listen to his music by accessing www.knundrum.com. When asked how Knundrum gauges success with its live audience, Noel’s reply was multi-faceted. The tangible indicators include repeat bookings by the venue, onsite purchase of CDs and DVDs, supportive emails by audience members, and thank yous at the performance’s end. The emotional indicators are the goose bumps he gets during some performances, feeling the vibes of the audience and reacting to their callbacks at the performance’s end.
Though he is in music because he loves it, ultimately it is a chosen vocation. Noel sees his music as his legacy, for others to enjoy one hundred years from now. He is proud of his family’s musical and dramatic heritage and sees himself as adding to that tradition. Noel foresees a future in music that will sustain him and the other band members. His gut feeling is that his musical career will work out eventually. The challenge is keeping the band interested and together long enough for this to happen.
This blog entry is my response to Encounter Project Four, Material Culture (Artist).
Sunday, March 23, 2008
Folklore Performance - Verbal Art
It is clear that the folklorist looks at performance differently than I have. The knowledge gained from this chapter has broadened my understanding of performance. An analytical point-of-view can now be added to my assessment of a performance, which should deepen my connection and comprehension of the performance as an audience member. It has also provided me the opportunity to better interpret a folklorist’s perspective and the pitfalls in the evaluation of a performance, as a folklorist is both an observer and a participant.
I already understood the general definition of performance, “an expressive activity that requires participation, heightens our enjoyment of experience, and invites response” (128). However, the message in this chapter is that folklore performance is more than just its entertainment value. It brings the performer and the audience together, creating an event, encouraging “lively communication . . . through the sharing of folklore” (173). It had not occurred to me that conversation between people could be a folklore performance, or said another way, “verbal art” (133). To think that telling an unrehearsed story or reciting a proverb in a casual setting, is conversational performance makes performance as much an everyday occurrence as the more obvious performance in venues where preparation, rehearsals and more structured surroundings are utilized (141).
The markers that frame a verbal performance, that is the signaling of its beginning and end, are now recognizable to me as playing a role in the performance (133). There are different kinds of performance markers that are subliminally understood, depending upon what type of verbal text is to be framed. As examples:
· for storytelling, “Once upon a time” and “They lived happily ever after”,
· for proverbs, “You know what they say, …”,
· for jokes, “Did you hear the one about …”,
· as gestures or tonal signals, as in eye contact or lowering one’s voice for emphasis,
· as evaluative markers, like laughter, and
· as customary markers, like “knock on wood” (142-143).
These categories of verbal folklore can be used as sparks for change, as in political jokes or trickster antics (153), and they also can express continuity, connecting to and reinforcing folk traditions, as in the story of the miner father’s lunch bucket (146).
The authors brought clarity by the comparison of fine art performance to folklore performance. Folklore performance is evaluated by “community consensus”, by those in the audience who are within and outside the folk group (157). Fine art performance is only a personal evaluation, either by the person looking at the object or by the critic, with specific, formal knowledge of the art form. Folklorists are interested in the group’s interaction and reaction, not the individual’s. Folklore performance texts combine the artistic, or aesthetic, and utilititarian qualities, typically having a practical role in the community to teach a lesson, to emphasize a moral value, or to pass on history and heritage to “reinforce past group aesthetic” (157). Fine art typically has no utility and is new and artistic for art’s sake.
Context is important to a performance assessment. One should understand the relationship between the listeners, the text and the performers’ expressions (137). Additionally, both the physical context (the setting, the text and other physical elements) and social context (broad elements of community and culture) of a performance not only can affect each performance differently, but also can affect differently the performance’s interpretation by the audience (149). In performance, ultimately it is people who are the key to the sharing of folklore: the performers with their expressions of the text, and their skill and competence to do so, and the audience with their aesthetic reaction, their history with the art form and their judgment of the performers.
This blog entry is my response to the Chapter Five Reflection Question.
Works Cited
Sims, Martha C., and Martine Stephens. Living Folklore An Introduction to the Study of
People and Their Traditions. Utah: Utah State University Press, 2005.
I already understood the general definition of performance, “an expressive activity that requires participation, heightens our enjoyment of experience, and invites response” (128). However, the message in this chapter is that folklore performance is more than just its entertainment value. It brings the performer and the audience together, creating an event, encouraging “lively communication . . . through the sharing of folklore” (173). It had not occurred to me that conversation between people could be a folklore performance, or said another way, “verbal art” (133). To think that telling an unrehearsed story or reciting a proverb in a casual setting, is conversational performance makes performance as much an everyday occurrence as the more obvious performance in venues where preparation, rehearsals and more structured surroundings are utilized (141).
The markers that frame a verbal performance, that is the signaling of its beginning and end, are now recognizable to me as playing a role in the performance (133). There are different kinds of performance markers that are subliminally understood, depending upon what type of verbal text is to be framed. As examples:
· for storytelling, “Once upon a time” and “They lived happily ever after”,
· for proverbs, “You know what they say, …”,
· for jokes, “Did you hear the one about …”,
· as gestures or tonal signals, as in eye contact or lowering one’s voice for emphasis,
· as evaluative markers, like laughter, and
· as customary markers, like “knock on wood” (142-143).
These categories of verbal folklore can be used as sparks for change, as in political jokes or trickster antics (153), and they also can express continuity, connecting to and reinforcing folk traditions, as in the story of the miner father’s lunch bucket (146).
The authors brought clarity by the comparison of fine art performance to folklore performance. Folklore performance is evaluated by “community consensus”, by those in the audience who are within and outside the folk group (157). Fine art performance is only a personal evaluation, either by the person looking at the object or by the critic, with specific, formal knowledge of the art form. Folklorists are interested in the group’s interaction and reaction, not the individual’s. Folklore performance texts combine the artistic, or aesthetic, and utilititarian qualities, typically having a practical role in the community to teach a lesson, to emphasize a moral value, or to pass on history and heritage to “reinforce past group aesthetic” (157). Fine art typically has no utility and is new and artistic for art’s sake.
Context is important to a performance assessment. One should understand the relationship between the listeners, the text and the performers’ expressions (137). Additionally, both the physical context (the setting, the text and other physical elements) and social context (broad elements of community and culture) of a performance not only can affect each performance differently, but also can affect differently the performance’s interpretation by the audience (149). In performance, ultimately it is people who are the key to the sharing of folklore: the performers with their expressions of the text, and their skill and competence to do so, and the audience with their aesthetic reaction, their history with the art form and their judgment of the performers.
This blog entry is my response to the Chapter Five Reflection Question.
Works Cited
Sims, Martha C., and Martine Stephens. Living Folklore An Introduction to the Study of
People and Their Traditions. Utah: Utah State University Press, 2005.
Monday, March 3, 2008
A Christening Ritual
An event of special meaning to me and my family was the christening of my nephew and godson, Hugh Maxmillian McCrea III. A christening is an a ritual, a “ceremony . . . that enact[s] deeply held beliefs or values” (Sims & Stephens, p. 94). My brother and sister-in-law, as Catholics, planned to raise their child with their same religious beliefs and values. Hugh’s christening marked his new beginning, signifying a change in his status - his new identity as a Catholic, named for his paternal grandfather and father (Sims & Stephens, p. 105). The christening was meant to be a “significant expression of” family identity and Catholic beliefs and values (Sims & Stephens, p. 95). His christening was a naming ritual, and as well it had some attributes of a rite of passage ritual not only for the baby, but also his godparents (Sims & Stephens, p. 110, 120).
Hugh was born in November, 1979. The following January the christening took place. This was a high-context ritual as it was a formalized, planned event (Sims & Stephens, p. 99). It was planned in advance with invitations sent to family and close friends. As godparents-to-be, both my brother-in-law and I were required to attend a training class at the church to understand what it would mean to be a godparent throughout Hugh’s life. The christening was structured and controlled, conducted by a Catholic priest and held in a formal setting with everyone dressed in their finery (Sims & Stephens, p. 95, 99). Hugh wore the traditional baptism costume, a long, white cotton and lace gown, silk booties and a christening cap that tied beneath his chin (Sims & Stephens, p. 95). He was wrapped in a silk baby blanket.
This was a standard, repetitive ceremony, patterned after other Catholic christenings (Sims & Stephens, p. 95). However, the traditional protocol was not completely followed as I am a Protestant, and it is not standard for a non-Catholic to be a godparent. Because I was not a member of the Catholic Church (not in their folk group), the Church required me to prepare differently, taking extra steps to ready for Hugh’s christening.
The christening event was a combination of both a sacred ritual and a secular ritual (Sims & Stephens, p. 102). The christening was held in a local Catholic Church in Houston, Texas and was a religious, sacred Catholic ceremony including prayers, religious music, bible scripture, blessings, the symbolic anointment of water on Hugh’s head symbolizing the cleansing of his soul, and the announcement of his name and that of his godparents, all reflecting an action-driven tradition (Sims & Stephens, p. 97). The formal christening brought together verbal (prayers and songs), customary (gestures and movements) and material (costumes) folklore (Sims & Stephens, p. 95). The celebration that followed the christening at my brother’s home was a secular, less formal conclusion of the event, with food and drink, laughter, baby gifts and fanfare, and a few diaper changes. The party was a way to congratulate the parents and godparents, and a chance for friends and family to personally welcome Hugh into the family and the church.
The christening was framed initially with everyone arriving at the church at the designated time, taking a seat and then the music beginning, heralding Hugh, his parents, and his godparents-to-be to the altar (Sims & Stephens, p. 97). The conclusion was framed by the party reception and a toast to Hugh’s future.
This Christening ceremony was an outward expression, emphasizing Hugh’s parents’ beliefs in their religion and their love for his grandfather, so much so to name Hugh after him (Sims & Stephens, p. 96). Hugh’s christening initiated “an important stage of his life”, a newly baptized baby with new godparents who also entered a new stage in their lives, one committed to helping support and guide Hugh’s future (Sims & Stephens, p. 94, 113).
This blog entry is my response to the Chapter Four Reflection Question.
References
Sims, M. C., & Stephens, M. (2005). Living folklore. Utah: Utah State University Press.
Hugh was born in November, 1979. The following January the christening took place. This was a high-context ritual as it was a formalized, planned event (Sims & Stephens, p. 99). It was planned in advance with invitations sent to family and close friends. As godparents-to-be, both my brother-in-law and I were required to attend a training class at the church to understand what it would mean to be a godparent throughout Hugh’s life. The christening was structured and controlled, conducted by a Catholic priest and held in a formal setting with everyone dressed in their finery (Sims & Stephens, p. 95, 99). Hugh wore the traditional baptism costume, a long, white cotton and lace gown, silk booties and a christening cap that tied beneath his chin (Sims & Stephens, p. 95). He was wrapped in a silk baby blanket.
This was a standard, repetitive ceremony, patterned after other Catholic christenings (Sims & Stephens, p. 95). However, the traditional protocol was not completely followed as I am a Protestant, and it is not standard for a non-Catholic to be a godparent. Because I was not a member of the Catholic Church (not in their folk group), the Church required me to prepare differently, taking extra steps to ready for Hugh’s christening.
The christening event was a combination of both a sacred ritual and a secular ritual (Sims & Stephens, p. 102). The christening was held in a local Catholic Church in Houston, Texas and was a religious, sacred Catholic ceremony including prayers, religious music, bible scripture, blessings, the symbolic anointment of water on Hugh’s head symbolizing the cleansing of his soul, and the announcement of his name and that of his godparents, all reflecting an action-driven tradition (Sims & Stephens, p. 97). The formal christening brought together verbal (prayers and songs), customary (gestures and movements) and material (costumes) folklore (Sims & Stephens, p. 95). The celebration that followed the christening at my brother’s home was a secular, less formal conclusion of the event, with food and drink, laughter, baby gifts and fanfare, and a few diaper changes. The party was a way to congratulate the parents and godparents, and a chance for friends and family to personally welcome Hugh into the family and the church.
The christening was framed initially with everyone arriving at the church at the designated time, taking a seat and then the music beginning, heralding Hugh, his parents, and his godparents-to-be to the altar (Sims & Stephens, p. 97). The conclusion was framed by the party reception and a toast to Hugh’s future.
This Christening ceremony was an outward expression, emphasizing Hugh’s parents’ beliefs in their religion and their love for his grandfather, so much so to name Hugh after him (Sims & Stephens, p. 96). Hugh’s christening initiated “an important stage of his life”, a newly baptized baby with new godparents who also entered a new stage in their lives, one committed to helping support and guide Hugh’s future (Sims & Stephens, p. 94, 113).
This blog entry is my response to the Chapter Four Reflection Question.
References
Sims, M. C., & Stephens, M. (2005). Living folklore. Utah: Utah State University Press.
Friday, February 29, 2008
Vernacular Architecture - The Maasi Dung Hut
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The African Maasai are a semi-nomadic tribe and this lifestyle is the foundation of their architecture traditions. The Maasai are found predominantly in Kenya and Tanzania with an estimated population of a half a million (“Maasi People,” n.d.). There are sixteen geographic sectors of the tribe attributing to some diversity in customs (Maasi People,” n.d.). The Maasai, well known as warriors, are pastoralists (“Maasi Tribe,” n.d.). Cattle are fundamental to the tribe’s survival. The Maasai travel, following the rains for water and in search of grazing lands, to care for their cattle and goats (“Beading,” n.d.). Their herding animals are a key component of their lifestyle and represent their wealth [“Beading,” n.d.).The building of dung huts represents their architecture tradition. The Maasai dung hut or house is called inkajijik (“Maasai Tribe,” n.d.). The Maasai live in villages, or kraals, each consisting of ten to twenty cow dung huts which form a homestead (“Maasi People,” n.d.). It may be thought of as a village, but it is a collection of huts within an enclosure. A primitive fence or enhang forms a corral about five or six feet high (“Maasi People of Kenya,” n.d.). The fence is built by the men, while the huts are built by the women (“Maasi People,” n.d.). The fence is constructed of sharp acacia thorn bushes which encircle the dung huts. Reeds and branches are woven to create protection, similar to barbed wire, against predators and wild animals (Youngman, n.d.). The herding animals are brought within the enclosure at night for their protection. Set aside from the kraal, is the manyatta, which is more accurately a camp for the unmarried warriors (Youngman, n.d.). It may also contain a larger number of huts.
The Maasai tribe practices polygyny, which means that a man has more than one wife at a time, thus, several families (McQuail, 2001). The married man moves around visiting the dung huts of his different wives and children, and may not live in one hut (Hein, 2004). Each married women builds her own dung hut, where she lives with her children (“Maasai People of Kenya,” n.d.).The Maasai women’s responsibilities are exhaustive. The women build the dung huts, continually repair the huts, care for the children, milk the cows and goats, monitor the health of the herd, operate the gates to the village and cow pens, collect water, collect firewood, maintain a continuous fire, gather herbs and roots for health, wash clothes, and cook (“Maasai Tribe,” n.d.).
A poignant issue within this Maasai architecture tradition is the role of the woman, who is solely responsible for building the dung huts, as well as maintaining the village. The cow dung huts are built from only natural, indigenous materials, which inherently lack permanence. This is harmonious with their nomadic lifestyle, but means continual work to repair. The technique to build the dung huts is passed down generationally from mother to daughters (“Maasi People of Kenya,” n.d.).
The tradition in constructing the huts involves creating a structure that is typically loaf-shaped or circular. The structural framework is formed by timber poles stuck in the ground. This framework is interwoven with a lattice of smaller branches. A plaster-like mixture is prepared, using a combination of sticks, mud, grass, cow dung, and urine, and the woman covers the outside walls of the dung hut. When it dries, it holds the sticks firmly together, and additional layers are added for strength (McQuail, 2001). The hut is actually quite strong, and surprisingly, it does not smell (Youngman, n.d.). To slow down roof leaks, a compacted mixture of clay soil, sand soil and fire ashes are added to coat the roof (Nkoitol, n.d.).A Maasai dung hut takes up to seven months to build (“The Maasi: Lifestyle,” n.d.). The front doorway is low and small requiring one to stoop or almost crawl in the entrance (Youngman, n.d.). The inside has a dirt floor, is dark, smoke laden, and may smell from the baby animals kept indoors for safety at night (“The Maasi: Lifestyle,” n.d.). The roof is low and one cannot stand upright (Youngman, n.d.). A fire is in continual use for cooking and warmth (Youngman, n.d.). Typically, the hut is one room. It consists of a permanently made bed constructed of a pile of sticks set up off the dirt floor, sometimes cushioned with dry grass. Cow hides or other animal skins are layered over the sticks to complete the bed (“The Maasi: Lifestyle,” n.d.).
Among the different Maasi groups, customs vary slightly regarding the dung hut architecture. Most have no hole in the roof for escaping smoke, but some do. Most have no windows, but some do. Most are not tall enough to stand up in, but some are. It would seem within different families or regions, their own customs, ideas and experimentation create some variability in the dung hut structures.The Maasai traditions are coming under attack as the Kenya and Tanzania governments encourage the Maasai to abandon their traditional nomadic lifestyle. They are being contained in less and less landscape (Youngman, n.d.). With new land management systems, single families are living in a kraal, versus multiple families (“Maasi People,” n.d.). They are now forbidden to kill lions because they are an endangered species in Africa, yet killing a lion is a test of manhood for the Maasi warrior and a risk to their livestock and humans (Youngman, n.d.). Urbanization, agriculture cultivation and commercialization are encroaching on their lifestyle (Youngman, n.d.). The women now produce beaded jewelry sold to tourist groups who come to visit the kraal and tour the dung huts (“Beading,” n.d.). The Maasai people have remained resolute, even today, to their age old customs (Youngman, n.d.). There is a Maasai belief which is a sad refrain of their future: “It takes one day to destroy a house but to build a new one will take months, perhaps years. If we destroy our way of life to construct a new one, it will take thousands of years” (“Maasi People of Kenya,” n.d.).
This blog is my response to Encounter Project Three – Architecture Tradition.
REFERENCES
(n.d.). Beading off the beaten path: experiencing maasai art and culture. Retrieved February 27, 2008 from http://www.gonomad.com/features/0504/maasai_women_in_kenya.html
Hein, Lori. (December, 2004). Ribbons of highway. Retrieved February 28, 2008 from
http://ribbonsofhighway.blogspot.com/2004/12/visit-to-masai-manyatta.html
(n.d.). Maasi people. Retrieved February 28, 2008 from
http://www.maasai-association.org/maasai.html
(n.d.). The maasai: lifestyle overview. Retrieved February 27, 2008 from
http://www.warmafrica.com/index/geo/8/cat/2/a/a/artid/46
(n.d.). The maasai people of Kenya an Tanzania. Retrieved February 28, 2008 from
http://www.cccoe.net/africa/maasaipeople.htm
(n.d.). Maasai tribe kenya. Retrieved February 15, 2008 from
http://www.enhols.com/kenya/people/maasai/
McQuail, Lisa. (2001). The maasai of africa. Lerner Publications.
Nkoitol, Simon. (n.d.). The life of a maasai woman. Retrieved February 27, 2008 from
http://www.ofdc.org/story.html
Youngman, Jeremy. (n.d.). The maasi. Retrieved February 15, 2008 from
http://www.masai-mara.com/mmmaa.htm
Friday, February 22, 2008
Family Traditions
My family, as a folk group, is the first to come to mind in relating to traditions. Over the years, various traditions have been established, changed, disappeared, and even reappeared.
Longstanding Tradition that is Disappearing with Time
Not having children, my husband and I have doted on my brother’s two sons, Hugh and John since they were very young. They have always lived in Houston, Texas and we have lived all over the United States. Over the years, school Spring Break has been a week reserved for the boys to come visit wherever we resided. It was a time for their “favorite” aunt and uncle to reconnect with them. We learned what was important to them, spoiled them, exposed them to experiences they might never have had otherwise, and became confidantes as they shared personal issues and asked for our advice. We shared adventures, new and fun things that we hoped would serve to be lasting memories for the boys.
We were conscious in our effort to pass on some of life’s lessons, allowing them to experience new things, not trying to change them but opening their minds to choices and options in life. They took home stories to tell of their time and experiences with Aunt Anna and Uncle Paul. Through the years we have seen them blossom into mature and wonderful young men.
The Spring Breaks with us lessened, during their college years, as they explored new experiences with their friends. They began careers, post-college, working in corporate America, without Spring Breaks and with limited vacation time. In the recent five years, they have visited only once at Spring Break. We re-connected during my IU Spring Break two years ago. It was a rewarding and rejuvenating time together.
This tradition is changing and disappearing as Hugh and John take on new commitments and families of their own. We hope the memories of our times together will be lasting, good memories, and hopefully someday they will pass this tradition to special people in their life.
A Tradition Increasing in Importance
My husband and I, married 23 years, enjoy the visual arts and have been art collectors during this time. Our love of art has inspired us to travel, to see exotic places. Initially, our trips were infrequent, increasing to alternating years, as we juggled life, work, home and family. Our enthusiasm increased and we strived to travel internationally every year.
In recent years, we feel an escalating sense of urgency to explore the world we have not seen. The world is large and our wish list for travel is a long one. We enjoy traveling together, seeing other cultures, and learning each country’s art, architecture, history and customs. Our intensity increases as our age increases. We want to see the world together, so time is of the essence.
A Tradition I Originated
My mother’s family was a large one and there were many family reunions growing up. My mother normally instigated the reunions. The get-togethers were an opportunity for the sixteen cousins to re-connect, play and enjoy each other which created memorable times. As everyone grew up, went to college, started families, and as our mothers and fathers died, the reunions stopped. New nuclear families formed.
In 1997, I moved back to my home state of Texas. I instigated a Cousins Reunion between Christmas and New Year’s at my new home that year. It was the first time we were all together in over thirty years. The party was a huge success, exploring past memories and catching up. We unanimously agreed to do this again. I have continued the reunions each year. They have grown in popularity and expanded as Aunts or Uncles joined in, reminiscent of our past reunions. Staying connected to family is important. My Mother knew this, and subliminally passed it on to me.
This blog entry is my response to the Chapter Three Reflection Question.
Longstanding Tradition that is Disappearing with Time
Not having children, my husband and I have doted on my brother’s two sons, Hugh and John since they were very young. They have always lived in Houston, Texas and we have lived all over the United States. Over the years, school Spring Break has been a week reserved for the boys to come visit wherever we resided. It was a time for their “favorite” aunt and uncle to reconnect with them. We learned what was important to them, spoiled them, exposed them to experiences they might never have had otherwise, and became confidantes as they shared personal issues and asked for our advice. We shared adventures, new and fun things that we hoped would serve to be lasting memories for the boys.
We were conscious in our effort to pass on some of life’s lessons, allowing them to experience new things, not trying to change them but opening their minds to choices and options in life. They took home stories to tell of their time and experiences with Aunt Anna and Uncle Paul. Through the years we have seen them blossom into mature and wonderful young men.
The Spring Breaks with us lessened, during their college years, as they explored new experiences with their friends. They began careers, post-college, working in corporate America, without Spring Breaks and with limited vacation time. In the recent five years, they have visited only once at Spring Break. We re-connected during my IU Spring Break two years ago. It was a rewarding and rejuvenating time together.
This tradition is changing and disappearing as Hugh and John take on new commitments and families of their own. We hope the memories of our times together will be lasting, good memories, and hopefully someday they will pass this tradition to special people in their life.
A Tradition Increasing in Importance
My husband and I, married 23 years, enjoy the visual arts and have been art collectors during this time. Our love of art has inspired us to travel, to see exotic places. Initially, our trips were infrequent, increasing to alternating years, as we juggled life, work, home and family. Our enthusiasm increased and we strived to travel internationally every year.
In recent years, we feel an escalating sense of urgency to explore the world we have not seen. The world is large and our wish list for travel is a long one. We enjoy traveling together, seeing other cultures, and learning each country’s art, architecture, history and customs. Our intensity increases as our age increases. We want to see the world together, so time is of the essence.
A Tradition I Originated
My mother’s family was a large one and there were many family reunions growing up. My mother normally instigated the reunions. The get-togethers were an opportunity for the sixteen cousins to re-connect, play and enjoy each other which created memorable times. As everyone grew up, went to college, started families, and as our mothers and fathers died, the reunions stopped. New nuclear families formed.
In 1997, I moved back to my home state of Texas. I instigated a Cousins Reunion between Christmas and New Year’s at my new home that year. It was the first time we were all together in over thirty years. The party was a huge success, exploring past memories and catching up. We unanimously agreed to do this again. I have continued the reunions each year. They have grown in popularity and expanded as Aunts or Uncles joined in, reminiscent of our past reunions. Staying connected to family is important. My Mother knew this, and subliminally passed it on to me.
This blog entry is my response to the Chapter Three Reflection Question.
Tuesday, February 12, 2008
Swing Landscape - A Material Object
Stuart Davis’ 1938 oil on canvas painting Swing Landscape, 86 ¾ x 172 7/8 inches, was purchased in 1941 by new art director Henry Hope for the Indiana University Art Museum. The painting represents the harbor waterfront of Gloucester, Massachusetts, an artist colony and fishing harbor visited by Davis most summers between 1915 and 1934 (Philadelphia Museum of Art [PMA], 2005). It became the subject of a number of Stuart Davis paintings. The artist’s inspiration and theme for this artwork are not obvious to the viewer of Swing Landscape without knowing the background of the artwork and its artist. To that end, at first viewing the piece is non-representational. However, as the context of the artist’s history, his cultural influences and his artistic concept are understood, the piece is transformed and becomes an abstract. Stuart Davis was an early adopter of modern and abstract art in America during the Roaring Twenties, the Depression years and the post-war decades of the Twentieth Century. Swing Landscape is one of his most important works (PMA, 2005).
Davis supported himself early in his career doing illustrations for Harper’s Weekly and the radical The Masses, developing left-wing views and a social conscience (The National Archives Learning Curve, n.d.). In 1913, Davis participated as one of the youngest artists in the Armory Show in New York City which introduced European modernistic, avant-garde art to America (Britannica, 2008). Davis later described this show as “the greatest single influence I have experienced in my work” (Britannica, 2008). In the 1920’s, he began studying Picasso’s and Braque’s collage techniques (Painters, n.d.), and then Cubism, focusing on non-French subjects like jazz, radio, film, boats and harbors, and consumer products, “the American scene” (PMA, 2005). His collage work was actually the precursor to Pop Art in 1960’s America (Painters, n.d.). After a year’s sojourn in Paris in 1928, he began developing his own American style, influenced by the French modernists he met in France (Lane, 1978, p. 21). Davis viewed two-dimensional design and content with vibrant, bold colors and simple, abstract, strong forms as the basis of what he considered the new American art – modernism (Painters, n.d.).
Davis was significantly influenced artistically by jazz and swing music – to him, the musical equivalents to abstract art (PMA, 2005). “He spent much time listening to the Negro piano players in Newark dives … [to] hear the blues, or tin-pan alley tunes turned into real music” (Swing Era, n.d.). In America, records and radio made jazz and swing music popular, moving it from an “urban African-American experience” to “America’s most popular musical genre” (Swing Era, n.d.). Davis said “I think all my paintings, at least in part, come from this influence” (PMA, 2005). He listened to records while he painted (Swing Era, n.d.). It may be no small coincidence that this piece is named Swing Landscape. Perhaps swing music was played while he painted it, influencing both its creation and its naming.
In the 1930’s Stuart Davis was artistically adventurous and experimental, assimilating what he learned from his European stay (Wilkin, 1987, p. 128). Financially impacted by the Depression and wanting a broader audience, Davis joined the Federal Art Project of the Works Progress Administration, which commissioned him to create murals for Radio City Music Hall (1932), the New York World’s Fair (1939) and the Swing Landscape mural for the Williamsburg Housing Project (1938) in Brooklyn, New York (PMA, 2005). The Swing Landscape mural was deemed too abstract for American acceptance and was never installed at the housing project. After short stays at the Federal Art Gallery in New York City, and the Cincinnati Modern Art Society, Swing Landscape was purchased by the Indiana University Art Museum, one of the museum’s earliest acquisitions (IU placard, n.d.).
In technically reviewing the primary image of the artwork, the piece is vibrant, including a flurry of activity and movement. The vibrancy comes from the use of primary and secondary hues as well as black and white which lights the canvas. The artist pairs complementary colors multiple times throughout the painting. The predominant colors are blue and red. The activity and movement, as well as interest in the piece, is generated by the pictorial field of objects of varying shapes, sizes, positions, depths, curves and colors that seem to move on the canvas. The artist has created two-dimensionality. The viewer can perceive depth in the pictorial objects, even though there is flatness; Davis relied on color, pattern and line to reflect depth. The piece is busy with a kaleidoscope of detail. The objects consume the entire canvas. There is no negative area in this piece. Its world extends beyond the frame, as objects are cutoff mid-form at the edges of the frame. Both color and form work together to create the images and feelings of the piece.
The painting’s secondary abstract imagery is maritime, with many nautical details: sails, masts, boat riggings, buoys, chains, pulley, ropes, ladders, lobster traps, seaside buildings, and houses submerged in waves and spewing several colors of smoke. The sun is rising or setting on the horizon. There are no people in the harbor area, though there is a feeling of hustle and bustle – a tempo akin to jazz or swing music. Many of Davis’ paintings focused on the working class – a working class harbor was a favorite subject of his to paint. This piece has an architectural or geometric feeling with objects created with both vertical and horizontal painted lines. The artwork is quite large and is best enjoyed from a distance. The viewer must digest this piece slowly; it is not consumable at a glance.
The brush strokes are very visible, not refined, and long, thick and edgy. The pigment is applied to the canvas thickly, impasto style. Light reflects off the white color to contrast with the other hues and intensify the brightness and boldness of the artwork. Davis was attracted to Van Gogh’s technique of vivid colors and generous pigmentation (Lane, 1978, p. 10). This artwork provides some evidence of that.
Swing Landscape is a confluence of abstraction, rhythmic waves and swing music, vivid colors, heavy pigmentation and artistic experimentation, all in the setting of a working class, fishing harbor, a place Davis enjoyed. The painting showcases Davis’ geometric and brightly colored signature style. Stuart Davis had such a pivotal influence on the direction of modern, abstract and pop art in America, based in part on American jazz and swing music. Swing Landscape is a very enjoyable artistic, historical and cultural study.
This blog entry is my response to Encounter Project Two – Material Culture (Object).
Davis supported himself early in his career doing illustrations for Harper’s Weekly and the radical The Masses, developing left-wing views and a social conscience (The National Archives Learning Curve, n.d.). In 1913, Davis participated as one of the youngest artists in the Armory Show in New York City which introduced European modernistic, avant-garde art to America (Britannica, 2008). Davis later described this show as “the greatest single influence I have experienced in my work” (Britannica, 2008). In the 1920’s, he began studying Picasso’s and Braque’s collage techniques (Painters, n.d.), and then Cubism, focusing on non-French subjects like jazz, radio, film, boats and harbors, and consumer products, “the American scene” (PMA, 2005). His collage work was actually the precursor to Pop Art in 1960’s America (Painters, n.d.). After a year’s sojourn in Paris in 1928, he began developing his own American style, influenced by the French modernists he met in France (Lane, 1978, p. 21). Davis viewed two-dimensional design and content with vibrant, bold colors and simple, abstract, strong forms as the basis of what he considered the new American art – modernism (Painters, n.d.).
Davis was significantly influenced artistically by jazz and swing music – to him, the musical equivalents to abstract art (PMA, 2005). “He spent much time listening to the Negro piano players in Newark dives … [to] hear the blues, or tin-pan alley tunes turned into real music” (Swing Era, n.d.). In America, records and radio made jazz and swing music popular, moving it from an “urban African-American experience” to “America’s most popular musical genre” (Swing Era, n.d.). Davis said “I think all my paintings, at least in part, come from this influence” (PMA, 2005). He listened to records while he painted (Swing Era, n.d.). It may be no small coincidence that this piece is named Swing Landscape. Perhaps swing music was played while he painted it, influencing both its creation and its naming.
In the 1930’s Stuart Davis was artistically adventurous and experimental, assimilating what he learned from his European stay (Wilkin, 1987, p. 128). Financially impacted by the Depression and wanting a broader audience, Davis joined the Federal Art Project of the Works Progress Administration, which commissioned him to create murals for Radio City Music Hall (1932), the New York World’s Fair (1939) and the Swing Landscape mural for the Williamsburg Housing Project (1938) in Brooklyn, New York (PMA, 2005). The Swing Landscape mural was deemed too abstract for American acceptance and was never installed at the housing project. After short stays at the Federal Art Gallery in New York City, and the Cincinnati Modern Art Society, Swing Landscape was purchased by the Indiana University Art Museum, one of the museum’s earliest acquisitions (IU placard, n.d.).
In technically reviewing the primary image of the artwork, the piece is vibrant, including a flurry of activity and movement. The vibrancy comes from the use of primary and secondary hues as well as black and white which lights the canvas. The artist pairs complementary colors multiple times throughout the painting. The predominant colors are blue and red. The activity and movement, as well as interest in the piece, is generated by the pictorial field of objects of varying shapes, sizes, positions, depths, curves and colors that seem to move on the canvas. The artist has created two-dimensionality. The viewer can perceive depth in the pictorial objects, even though there is flatness; Davis relied on color, pattern and line to reflect depth. The piece is busy with a kaleidoscope of detail. The objects consume the entire canvas. There is no negative area in this piece. Its world extends beyond the frame, as objects are cutoff mid-form at the edges of the frame. Both color and form work together to create the images and feelings of the piece.
The painting’s secondary abstract imagery is maritime, with many nautical details: sails, masts, boat riggings, buoys, chains, pulley, ropes, ladders, lobster traps, seaside buildings, and houses submerged in waves and spewing several colors of smoke. The sun is rising or setting on the horizon. There are no people in the harbor area, though there is a feeling of hustle and bustle – a tempo akin to jazz or swing music. Many of Davis’ paintings focused on the working class – a working class harbor was a favorite subject of his to paint. This piece has an architectural or geometric feeling with objects created with both vertical and horizontal painted lines. The artwork is quite large and is best enjoyed from a distance. The viewer must digest this piece slowly; it is not consumable at a glance.
The brush strokes are very visible, not refined, and long, thick and edgy. The pigment is applied to the canvas thickly, impasto style. Light reflects off the white color to contrast with the other hues and intensify the brightness and boldness of the artwork. Davis was attracted to Van Gogh’s technique of vivid colors and generous pigmentation (Lane, 1978, p. 10). This artwork provides some evidence of that.
Swing Landscape is a confluence of abstraction, rhythmic waves and swing music, vivid colors, heavy pigmentation and artistic experimentation, all in the setting of a working class, fishing harbor, a place Davis enjoyed. The painting showcases Davis’ geometric and brightly colored signature style. Stuart Davis had such a pivotal influence on the direction of modern, abstract and pop art in America, based in part on American jazz and swing music. Swing Landscape is a very enjoyable artistic, historical and cultural study.
This blog entry is my response to Encounter Project Two – Material Culture (Object).
References
Encyclopedia Britannica Online. (2008). Stuart davis. Retrieved January 24, 2008) from
http://www.britannica.com/eb/article-9029523/Stuart-Davis.
(1941). IU art placard
Lane, J. R. (1978). Stuart davis: art and art theory. New York: The Brooklyn Museum.
The National Archives Learning Curve. (n.d.). Stuart davis. Retrieved January 24, 2008,
from http://www.spartacus.schoolnet.co.uk/ARTdavis.htm.
Painters Biographies (n.d.). Stuart davis. Retrieved January 24, 2008, from
http://www.3d-dali.com/Artist-Biographies/Stuart_Davis.html.
Philadelphia Museum of Art. (2005). Stuart davis and american abstraction: a masterpiece in focus. Retrieved February 12, 2008, from
http://www.philamuseum.org/exhibitions/2005/82.html.
(n.d.). Swing era: painting the jazz product. Retrieved February 12, 2008, from
http://xroads.virginia.edu/~ASI/musi212/emily/davis3.html.
Wilkin, K. (1987). Stuart davis. New York: Abbeville Press.
Tuesday, February 5, 2008
My Folk Groups
The definition of folk group is “any group of two or more people who share a common factor”, as described by Sims and Stephens (2005, p. 35). By this definition, I have been a part of many such folk groups in my life. The following highlights three of them.
A Family Group – The McCrea/Scanlon Family
I grew up in the McCrea family, with my mom and dad, brother, grandparents, and extended family. I was twenty seven when my father died. My mother married John Scanlon, a wonderful man, who had five children from his first marriage. I became part of the new McCrea/Scanlon family, adding a step-father, step-sister and four brothers, step-aunts and uncles, step-cousins, and step-nieces and nephews. This newly formed folk group was created out of circumstance. All the siblings were adults with their own families (folk groups), separated by geography, and ensconced in their own traditions. This made it hard as a joint family, a new identity, to develop many shared family experiences, habitual practices, values and beliefs. My most precious memories, and I daresay my step-siblings as well, remain those that existed from our first families before the second marriage. Perhaps the lack of regular interaction and lack of proximity play a role. We do have a shared interest, our parents, which we collectively love, protect and share in their care. That is what bonds us.
A School Group – My Harvard Business School Living Group
In 2001, I attended Harvard Business School to obtain a MBA as part of a special International Executive program. There were 138 people in the class, representing 53 countries around the world. This was a very intense program. Everyone lived on-campus in a dorm as part of 8-member living groups, determined by Harvard. My living group of two women and six men was culturally diverse, originating from Australia, Brazil, Canada, China, the Netherlands, Thailand, and the United States. We studied, learned and lived together. We grew to know each other outside the academic arena. Each Saturday night we went to dinner together in Cambridge or into Boston. Though our ethnic backgrounds were different, we became family. We learned each others’ customs, experienced each others’ cuisines, and became each others’ best supporters, keeping confidences and helping overcome the loneliness of missing home and our loved ones. Our living group was a manifestation of the school’s formal program. We came together because we had similar management skills and interest in furthering our education and careers. In the process we became close friends for life, a folk group. We stay in touch through the Internet, the Harvard five year class reunions and we meet each other whenever business or pleasure trips take us to each others’ countries. We have two personas. One identity is as part of the Harvard Business School graduating class of 2001, but as or more importantly we identify as a close knit pseudo-family, bonded through our Harvard experiences and our ongoing communication.
An Occupational Group – The Ladies Champagne Brunch Group
This was an informal social group (folk group) who met once a month on a Sunday for brunch and camaraderie. We were five women in middle management positions (identity), who felt thwarted by the glass ceiling. It was an event that brought us together (circumstance). A man at work had been promoted to a position we felt should have gone to one of us women, which was our impetus to get together to commiserate (shared interest). We found our time together to be cathartic. The champagne helped the process along. We strategized about how to be more successful in the future (job skills and hierarchy), and decided to keep meeting (informally) monthly to gossip, to share strategies and to have a release for our frustrations (esoteric factor). Ultimately two of us were promoted. Other women were invited to join us as our new group identity solidified. The reputation of the Ladies Champagne Brunch became notorious - a legend to women who desired to be included and feared by men who believed it was a sinister plot against them (exoteric factors).
This blog entry is my response to the Chapter Two Reflection Question.
References
Sims, M. C., & Stephens, M. (2005). Living folklore an introduction to the study of people and their traditions. Utah: Utah State University Press.
A Family Group – The McCrea/Scanlon Family
I grew up in the McCrea family, with my mom and dad, brother, grandparents, and extended family. I was twenty seven when my father died. My mother married John Scanlon, a wonderful man, who had five children from his first marriage. I became part of the new McCrea/Scanlon family, adding a step-father, step-sister and four brothers, step-aunts and uncles, step-cousins, and step-nieces and nephews. This newly formed folk group was created out of circumstance. All the siblings were adults with their own families (folk groups), separated by geography, and ensconced in their own traditions. This made it hard as a joint family, a new identity, to develop many shared family experiences, habitual practices, values and beliefs. My most precious memories, and I daresay my step-siblings as well, remain those that existed from our first families before the second marriage. Perhaps the lack of regular interaction and lack of proximity play a role. We do have a shared interest, our parents, which we collectively love, protect and share in their care. That is what bonds us.
A School Group – My Harvard Business School Living Group
In 2001, I attended Harvard Business School to obtain a MBA as part of a special International Executive program. There were 138 people in the class, representing 53 countries around the world. This was a very intense program. Everyone lived on-campus in a dorm as part of 8-member living groups, determined by Harvard. My living group of two women and six men was culturally diverse, originating from Australia, Brazil, Canada, China, the Netherlands, Thailand, and the United States. We studied, learned and lived together. We grew to know each other outside the academic arena. Each Saturday night we went to dinner together in Cambridge or into Boston. Though our ethnic backgrounds were different, we became family. We learned each others’ customs, experienced each others’ cuisines, and became each others’ best supporters, keeping confidences and helping overcome the loneliness of missing home and our loved ones. Our living group was a manifestation of the school’s formal program. We came together because we had similar management skills and interest in furthering our education and careers. In the process we became close friends for life, a folk group. We stay in touch through the Internet, the Harvard five year class reunions and we meet each other whenever business or pleasure trips take us to each others’ countries. We have two personas. One identity is as part of the Harvard Business School graduating class of 2001, but as or more importantly we identify as a close knit pseudo-family, bonded through our Harvard experiences and our ongoing communication.
An Occupational Group – The Ladies Champagne Brunch Group
This was an informal social group (folk group) who met once a month on a Sunday for brunch and camaraderie. We were five women in middle management positions (identity), who felt thwarted by the glass ceiling. It was an event that brought us together (circumstance). A man at work had been promoted to a position we felt should have gone to one of us women, which was our impetus to get together to commiserate (shared interest). We found our time together to be cathartic. The champagne helped the process along. We strategized about how to be more successful in the future (job skills and hierarchy), and decided to keep meeting (informally) monthly to gossip, to share strategies and to have a release for our frustrations (esoteric factor). Ultimately two of us were promoted. Other women were invited to join us as our new group identity solidified. The reputation of the Ladies Champagne Brunch became notorious - a legend to women who desired to be included and feared by men who believed it was a sinister plot against them (exoteric factors).
This blog entry is my response to the Chapter Two Reflection Question.
References
Sims, M. C., & Stephens, M. (2005). Living folklore an introduction to the study of people and their traditions. Utah: Utah State University Press.
Thursday, January 31, 2008
Reflection on the Great Pyramids of Giza
Tyler described the Great Pyramids of Giza in his first encounter blog posting. I have always wanted to visit Cairo and the pyramids. This interest was nurtured, even manifested by my mother when I was just a child.
My mother, as a young woman of only nineteen years of age, served in the Women’s Army Corp (WAC) during World War II. Joining the WAC had been an act of defiance towards her father. She had won the National High School music award in New York City as a promising soprano, and along with it a fully paid scholarship to a music conservatory. Her father would not let her attend the school. In his world, a woman’s place was as a wife and mother. My mother aspired to be more. Her destiny would not be set by her father and his traditions. She joined the WAC, showing fearless gumption, where she became a cryptologist, encrypting and de-encrypting military messages. She was assigned to an Army battalion group and was stationed in Caserta, Italy in Europe and Cairo, Egypt in North Africa.
While stationed in Cairo my mother was able to visit the Great Pyramids of Giza, the Sphinx, and ride a camel, all quite exotic experiences for 1943. While eating dinner in a restaurant in Cairo, King Faruk requested her presence at his table. My mother would never have made a good addition to his harem – too headstrong!
I remember her stories well. To me, the pyramids are a symbol of her rebelliousness, her independence, and inner strength and fortitude. It is too late to take my mother back to Cairo. But I have a burning desire to visit there, to walk where she walked and see what she saw. That is the heritage she left for me.
This is the first peer review blog posting.
My mother, as a young woman of only nineteen years of age, served in the Women’s Army Corp (WAC) during World War II. Joining the WAC had been an act of defiance towards her father. She had won the National High School music award in New York City as a promising soprano, and along with it a fully paid scholarship to a music conservatory. Her father would not let her attend the school. In his world, a woman’s place was as a wife and mother. My mother aspired to be more. Her destiny would not be set by her father and his traditions. She joined the WAC, showing fearless gumption, where she became a cryptologist, encrypting and de-encrypting military messages. She was assigned to an Army battalion group and was stationed in Caserta, Italy in Europe and Cairo, Egypt in North Africa.
While stationed in Cairo my mother was able to visit the Great Pyramids of Giza, the Sphinx, and ride a camel, all quite exotic experiences for 1943. While eating dinner in a restaurant in Cairo, King Faruk requested her presence at his table. My mother would never have made a good addition to his harem – too headstrong!
I remember her stories well. To me, the pyramids are a symbol of her rebelliousness, her independence, and inner strength and fortitude. It is too late to take my mother back to Cairo. But I have a burning desire to visit there, to walk where she walked and see what she saw. That is the heritage she left for me.
This is the first peer review blog posting.
References
Sunday, January 27, 2008
Afghani Dining Experience
Afghani cuisine and cooking are very unfamiliar to me and represent a new experience. The lack of understanding of Middle Eastern culture has resulted in me not being naturally attracted to this kind of restaurant. My personal biases based on the impact of 9/11 and the wars and disruption in the Middle East have resulted in me inherently avoiding such restaurants. The Samira Restaurant is located in Bloomington on the north side of the town square and is considered the “home of fine Afghanistan cuisine” by its owner (“Welcome”, n.d.). The word samira, an Arabic name, has several traditional feminine meanings: “friend of the night”, “morning star”, or “pleasant companion” (“Samira”, n.d.). My Friday night at the restaurant was quite pleasant for me and my companion, my husband.
During my pre-visit research, I discovered Afghani cooking described as being “at the culinary crossroads of many cultures”: India, Mongolia, China, Persia, and the Middle East with different herbs, spices and recipes from these countries used in food preparation (Venkatraman, 2006). Meat is prominent, especially lamb and chicken. The Afghans eat native vegetables, cereals such as barley, wheat and especially basmati (long rice), dairy products like yogurt, nuts and fresh and dried fruits (“Cuisine”, 2008). Food is cooked and flavored with olive oil, seasonings and spices like “saffron, cinnamon, cloves, cardamom, chilis, leeks, coriander, parsley, mint and black pepper . . . onion and tomato” (Mehta, 1990). Spices for flavoring are a key ingredient for cooking.
Cuisine plays “a very important role in Afghan culture” (Qazi, 2005). In Afghanistan, hospitality is revered and all guests are treated well at dinner. The dinner is traditionally served sitting on cushions on the floor of the living room or dining room, with a destarkhan (tablecloth) laid over a woven rug and the food, served in platters, pots and bowls, laid on the destarkhan (Venkatraman, 2006). Typically there are no eating utensils. Everyone eats with their right hand, which previously was ceremoniously washed (Mehta, 1990).
My expectation of the food and the ambience was quite different from the actual experience. I expected a Middle Eastern atmosphere and imagined a restaurant with woven rugs on the floor, teak furniture, brass accessories, seating on the floor and eating with my hands, and a strong smell of spices and smoke. There was an occasional woven rug hanging on the wall as artwork and a couple of brass pitchers as subtle decorations, but seating was at contemporary tables, with white linen tablecloths and napkins and normal cutlery. The air was fresh with inviting smells. As a first impression, it was obvious that a fine dining experience was ahead.
The menu was easy to read with the Afghani name of each dish and an English description. I advised our server, Erin, that it was our first time to experience Afghani food. She was very helpful and provided numerous suggestions, allowing us to experience a variety of different dishes. The first course was a complimentary, cold appetizer of grilled eggplant and carrot slices covered in olive oil and seasonings. This also included a basket of obi non bread, thicker than American bread, which could be immersed in the delicious olive oil from the appetizer. We had hot soup as a second course; one was a lentil soup with vegetables and a spicy tomato broth and the other a barley soup. The soups were aromatic, steaming hot and flavored with strong seasonings.
The next course was the namounaa (sampling) appetizer plate of four different warm dishes: kadu (baked butternut squash), sabzi (seasoned spinach), badenjan (spiced eggplant) and shalgham (baked turnips). It was a nice presentation and an interesting change in the way these steamed and baked vegetables were served. They varied between salty, spicy, tart and soft textures. The food was neither bland, nor spicy hot. It was quite tasteful and left the taste buds tingling. Though quite content, the main course was next to arrive.
We both ordered a combination meal for a diverse sampling, one a Rock Cornish hen and the other a lamb kebaab (skewer). Both meats were cooked to order and were very good, the lamb tasting much like steak. Side dishes included quabili (a seasoned basmati long rice topped with carrots, raisins, and tomato-onion sauce), manto (a steamed dumpling filled with seasoned ground beef and sautéed onion topped with tomato-onion sauce and spiced yogurt), and sambosa (layers of filo pastry filled with seasoned chicken or beef, onion, and served with a cilantro chutney). My favorite side dish was the quabili with its combination of flavors and textures, a rice dish which is Afghanistan’s most common national specialty (“Afghanistan”, n.d.). Rice dishes are “considered the best part of any [Afghani] meal” (“Cuisine”, 2008). We ordered a bottle of red wine with dinner, which seems very non-traditional for a Muslim restaurant and shows some American accommodation.
This fine dining experience was finished with coffee spiced with cardamom, its taste a bit heavier than American coffee. The owner, aware that we were first-timers and at the restaurant as part of a school cultural experience, was kind enough to drop by for a discussion, though the restaurant was bustling. He was proud that the restaurant was in its tenth year in Bloomington. After working in an Afghani restaurant in Indianapolis, he felt he could be successful starting a restaurant in Bloomington. He shared that the majority of his customers come from Indiana University: students for lunch, professors and graduate students at dinner and the remaining twenty percent are town visitors and residents.
My biases aside, the restaurant was elegant and the food delightfully tasteful and beautifully presented. I would enjoy the experience again.
References
Afghanistan food & dining. Retrieved January 26, 2008 from
http://iexplore.com/dmap/Afghanistan/Dining
(2008, January). Cuisine of afghanistan. Retrieved January 26, 2008 from
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Cuisine_of_Afghanistan
Mehta, Kavita. (1990). Dining in afghanistan. Retrieved January 26, 2008 from
http://www.ethnicfoodsco.com/Afghanistan/DinningEtiquette.htm
Mehta, Kavita. (1990). Afghani cuisine. Retrieved January 26, 2008 from
http://www.ethnicfoodsco.com/Afghanistan/AfghaniCuisine.htm
Qazi, Christi. (2007, June). Afghan cooking. Retrieved January 26, 2008 from
http://www.afghan-web.com/culture/cooking/
Samira. Retrieved January 26, 2008 from http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Samira
Venkatraman, Vijaysree. (2006, December). Discovering afghan cuisine, a world away. Retrieved January 26, 2008 from
http://www.npr.org/templates/story/story.php?storyId=6578725
Welcome to samira’s restaurant. Retrieved January 26, 2008 from
http://www.samirarestaurant.com/
This blog entry is my response to Encounter Project One - Restaurant Visit.
During my pre-visit research, I discovered Afghani cooking described as being “at the culinary crossroads of many cultures”: India, Mongolia, China, Persia, and the Middle East with different herbs, spices and recipes from these countries used in food preparation (Venkatraman, 2006). Meat is prominent, especially lamb and chicken. The Afghans eat native vegetables, cereals such as barley, wheat and especially basmati (long rice), dairy products like yogurt, nuts and fresh and dried fruits (“Cuisine”, 2008). Food is cooked and flavored with olive oil, seasonings and spices like “saffron, cinnamon, cloves, cardamom, chilis, leeks, coriander, parsley, mint and black pepper . . . onion and tomato” (Mehta, 1990). Spices for flavoring are a key ingredient for cooking.
Cuisine plays “a very important role in Afghan culture” (Qazi, 2005). In Afghanistan, hospitality is revered and all guests are treated well at dinner. The dinner is traditionally served sitting on cushions on the floor of the living room or dining room, with a destarkhan (tablecloth) laid over a woven rug and the food, served in platters, pots and bowls, laid on the destarkhan (Venkatraman, 2006). Typically there are no eating utensils. Everyone eats with their right hand, which previously was ceremoniously washed (Mehta, 1990).
My expectation of the food and the ambience was quite different from the actual experience. I expected a Middle Eastern atmosphere and imagined a restaurant with woven rugs on the floor, teak furniture, brass accessories, seating on the floor and eating with my hands, and a strong smell of spices and smoke. There was an occasional woven rug hanging on the wall as artwork and a couple of brass pitchers as subtle decorations, but seating was at contemporary tables, with white linen tablecloths and napkins and normal cutlery. The air was fresh with inviting smells. As a first impression, it was obvious that a fine dining experience was ahead.
The menu was easy to read with the Afghani name of each dish and an English description. I advised our server, Erin, that it was our first time to experience Afghani food. She was very helpful and provided numerous suggestions, allowing us to experience a variety of different dishes. The first course was a complimentary, cold appetizer of grilled eggplant and carrot slices covered in olive oil and seasonings. This also included a basket of obi non bread, thicker than American bread, which could be immersed in the delicious olive oil from the appetizer. We had hot soup as a second course; one was a lentil soup with vegetables and a spicy tomato broth and the other a barley soup. The soups were aromatic, steaming hot and flavored with strong seasonings.
The next course was the namounaa (sampling) appetizer plate of four different warm dishes: kadu (baked butternut squash), sabzi (seasoned spinach), badenjan (spiced eggplant) and shalgham (baked turnips). It was a nice presentation and an interesting change in the way these steamed and baked vegetables were served. They varied between salty, spicy, tart and soft textures. The food was neither bland, nor spicy hot. It was quite tasteful and left the taste buds tingling. Though quite content, the main course was next to arrive.
We both ordered a combination meal for a diverse sampling, one a Rock Cornish hen and the other a lamb kebaab (skewer). Both meats were cooked to order and were very good, the lamb tasting much like steak. Side dishes included quabili (a seasoned basmati long rice topped with carrots, raisins, and tomato-onion sauce), manto (a steamed dumpling filled with seasoned ground beef and sautéed onion topped with tomato-onion sauce and spiced yogurt), and sambosa (layers of filo pastry filled with seasoned chicken or beef, onion, and served with a cilantro chutney). My favorite side dish was the quabili with its combination of flavors and textures, a rice dish which is Afghanistan’s most common national specialty (“Afghanistan”, n.d.). Rice dishes are “considered the best part of any [Afghani] meal” (“Cuisine”, 2008). We ordered a bottle of red wine with dinner, which seems very non-traditional for a Muslim restaurant and shows some American accommodation.
This fine dining experience was finished with coffee spiced with cardamom, its taste a bit heavier than American coffee. The owner, aware that we were first-timers and at the restaurant as part of a school cultural experience, was kind enough to drop by for a discussion, though the restaurant was bustling. He was proud that the restaurant was in its tenth year in Bloomington. After working in an Afghani restaurant in Indianapolis, he felt he could be successful starting a restaurant in Bloomington. He shared that the majority of his customers come from Indiana University: students for lunch, professors and graduate students at dinner and the remaining twenty percent are town visitors and residents.
My biases aside, the restaurant was elegant and the food delightfully tasteful and beautifully presented. I would enjoy the experience again.
References
Afghanistan food & dining. Retrieved January 26, 2008 from
http://iexplore.com/dmap/Afghanistan/Dining
(2008, January). Cuisine of afghanistan. Retrieved January 26, 2008 from
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Cuisine_of_Afghanistan
Mehta, Kavita. (1990). Dining in afghanistan. Retrieved January 26, 2008 from
http://www.ethnicfoodsco.com/Afghanistan/DinningEtiquette.htm
Mehta, Kavita. (1990). Afghani cuisine. Retrieved January 26, 2008 from
http://www.ethnicfoodsco.com/Afghanistan/AfghaniCuisine.htm
Qazi, Christi. (2007, June). Afghan cooking. Retrieved January 26, 2008 from
http://www.afghan-web.com/culture/cooking/
Samira. Retrieved January 26, 2008 from http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Samira
Venkatraman, Vijaysree. (2006, December). Discovering afghan cuisine, a world away. Retrieved January 26, 2008 from
http://www.npr.org/templates/story/story.php?storyId=6578725
Welcome to samira’s restaurant. Retrieved January 26, 2008 from
http://www.samirarestaurant.com/
This blog entry is my response to Encounter Project One - Restaurant Visit.
Sunday, January 20, 2008
A Christmas Tradition
My family inadvertently started a behavior one Christmas that became an annual custom for our family. The group interaction was within our small family of five. The custom continued as long as the family stayed intact. Once the siblings left home and had families of their own, new Christmas traditions were established. However, the old tradition reoccurred whenever we all came together at our parents’ house for Christmas. It stopped when members of our family group died.
It originated in 1956 when I was five years old. On Christmas Eve a new Stromberg Carlson cabinet stereo, our first record player, was delivered to the house. We were a very musical family, but owned no records. It was late when Mom and I rushed to the store to buy some records. To our dismay the store had already closed, and the owner was readying to leave. My mother convinced him to let us select a record. With no time to browse, the first song that came to her mind was my father’s favorite song. The shop owner sold us the 45 rpm record and we came home with our prize. That evening we played “The Yellow Rose of Texas” over and over again, excited about the arrival of Santa Claus.
My brother and I awoke very early Christmas morning, however we were kept away from the Christmas tree by my grandmother, who strategically slept in the living room until Mom and Dad awoke. We could not contain our excitement and wanted our parents up immediately. We got the idea to play “The Yellow Rose of Texas”, turning the volume up high. The sound reverberated through our small house, waking my parents, and beginning our Christmas gift exchange.
For two decades, every Christmas morning began with the playing of “The Yellow Rose of Texas” on the Stromberg Carlson. It was the rallying call to the family, expressed through music, a way to communicate. It was informally learned. It became a reminder of our history as a family and our memorable past holidays. In later years when we came home to our parents’ house for Christmas, the playing of the music heralded the start of Christmas festivities. The tradition’s purpose changed slightly over time, but never lost importance.
Our activity became a repeated habitual action or a custom, the genre of customary lore. It was a way to stay connected to the past, a common sharing, and an identity that for us was special. The words of the song were not significant to the tradition; but the music was. Today, that very 45 rpm record is framed and hangs in my house as a personal connection with the family tradition of Christmases past. The Stromberg Carlson is a family heirloom. Both are material folklore for our family. Now when I hear “The Yellow Rose of Texas” played or referred to, no matter what the context, a smile and a tear always appear. This family folklore will always hold a special place in my memories, and provides a story to tell, verbal folklore, to successive generations of McCreas.
This blog entry is my response to the Chapter One Reflection Question.
It originated in 1956 when I was five years old. On Christmas Eve a new Stromberg Carlson cabinet stereo, our first record player, was delivered to the house. We were a very musical family, but owned no records. It was late when Mom and I rushed to the store to buy some records. To our dismay the store had already closed, and the owner was readying to leave. My mother convinced him to let us select a record. With no time to browse, the first song that came to her mind was my father’s favorite song. The shop owner sold us the 45 rpm record and we came home with our prize. That evening we played “The Yellow Rose of Texas” over and over again, excited about the arrival of Santa Claus.
My brother and I awoke very early Christmas morning, however we were kept away from the Christmas tree by my grandmother, who strategically slept in the living room until Mom and Dad awoke. We could not contain our excitement and wanted our parents up immediately. We got the idea to play “The Yellow Rose of Texas”, turning the volume up high. The sound reverberated through our small house, waking my parents, and beginning our Christmas gift exchange.
For two decades, every Christmas morning began with the playing of “The Yellow Rose of Texas” on the Stromberg Carlson. It was the rallying call to the family, expressed through music, a way to communicate. It was informally learned. It became a reminder of our history as a family and our memorable past holidays. In later years when we came home to our parents’ house for Christmas, the playing of the music heralded the start of Christmas festivities. The tradition’s purpose changed slightly over time, but never lost importance.
Our activity became a repeated habitual action or a custom, the genre of customary lore. It was a way to stay connected to the past, a common sharing, and an identity that for us was special. The words of the song were not significant to the tradition; but the music was. Today, that very 45 rpm record is framed and hangs in my house as a personal connection with the family tradition of Christmases past. The Stromberg Carlson is a family heirloom. Both are material folklore for our family. Now when I hear “The Yellow Rose of Texas” played or referred to, no matter what the context, a smile and a tear always appear. This family folklore will always hold a special place in my memories, and provides a story to tell, verbal folklore, to successive generations of McCreas.
This blog entry is my response to the Chapter One Reflection Question.
References
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