22 March 2013

Tonight I saw Liz Ogbu give the keynote address at the Public Interest Design Week hosted by the University of Minnesota Design School. The topic – public interest design – is billed as the intersection between design and service. Ogbu was presented as a designer, social innovator, consultant, and academic.

Ogbu spoke on design thinking, and how she applied this way of thinking to the projects she works on. Design thinking solves problems by considering systems, and seeks to remedy the problem through understanding all parts of a system and how they work together. She used a clean water project she worked on in Kenya to illustrate how she uses design thinking. She starts her project by conducting in depth interviews with the people who should benefit from their project. Then, based on information compiled in the interviews, she put together a prototype business that she could use to test out the ideas she had based on interview findings.

While I was listing to Ms. Ogbu speak, I wondered why I and so many people are interested in design. TED (the D stands for design) talks are immensely popular, and being conversant on TED talks is an important social signifier for the intellectually upwardly mobile. Ogbu’s use of the term “design thinking” made me think of design’s popularity in terms of intellectual history.

Design is synonymous with industrialization and modernity. Of course, industrial design came along with the advent of industrialization. Design was a way that thinkers and artists hoped to make the changes that industrial capitalism wrought easier and more comfortable. Landscape design sought ways to make industrial cities more livable.

Design, today, is ascendant. As evidenced by this week’s Public Interest Design conference, design is increasingly being considered as a way to solve social problems. When the intellectual history of today is written, it seems it will have to consider the ways in which design has influenced our thinking.

http://www.newyorker.com/reporting/2012/07/09/120709fa_fact_heller
http://thenewinquiry.com/essays/against-ted/

20 March 2013

I just read David Greenberg’s review of Martin Duberman’s biography of Howard Zinn on the The New Republic website. Greenberg uses the review as an opportunity to reflect upon Zinn’s career and the influence he has had. I was happy to read Greenberg’s critiques of Zinn. It seems as though the historical profession has adequately acknowledged Zinn’s shortcomings, but he remains popular in mainstream liberal/left thougth.

Greenberg portrays Zinn as primarily an activist, not a historian. While many other radical historians were doing the yeoman’s work of scholarship, Zinn opted to participate in publicized campaigns (Civil Rights, Vietnam, etc.). Greenberg covers the debate amongst radical historians over the role of objectivity and empiricism, and concludes that the most enduring radical historians retained a healthy respect for empiricism.

The problem remains, though, of Zinn’s enduring popularity amongst young people. Whereas Zinn and his cohort were busy at work dismantling the tired old ideologies of their predecessors, the Millenial generation seems perfectly happy to go along with the countercultural project.
As a generation that came into political consciousness during the Iraq War and the Bush Era, we have good reason for mistrusting institutions and authority. If the mistrust we have adopted from Zinn is fair, the cynicism is not. By celebrating the losers of history, Zinn leaves little hope for political reform. There is a very different way of telling the story of American history that highlights the underdog winning occasionally.

Zinn’s politics are nihilist and seek a constant state of activism. If you believe that there is no way to reform the system, then flailing about at least makes one feel better. Flailing about doesn’t make good politics though.

http://www.newrepublic.com/article/112574/howard-zinns-influential-mutilations-american-history

19 March 2013

Final copy of my abstract for SSML paper.

“John Steuart Curry (b. 1897) was a Kansas born painter who was associated with the Midwestern Regionalist school of painting that was prominent in the 1930s. Curry studied art in Kansas City, Chicago, and Paris. He worked for a time as an illustrator, sold his paintings commercially, and received commissions from the federal government and the state of Kansas for murals. In 1936, Curry came to the University of Wisconsin to serve as the artist in residence for the College of Agriculture. The Dean of the College of Agriculture Chris L. Christensen wanted his students and the residents of Wisconsin to have access to have access to a nationally renowned artist, because he thought that a vibrant rural culture was essential to the health of the state. When Curry came to Wisconsin, American agriculture was in the midst of a nadir that had lasted since the end of World War Two. It was a time, too, when art was seen to have an important social role to play in America, as evidenced by New Deal arts programs.

This paper will situate Curry within the tradition of Midwestern pastoralism. It will explore how Curry’s paintings and his ideas reflect the Midwestern pastoralism as defined by William Barillas. I will consider Curry’s time as artist in residence at the University of Wisconsin’s College of Agriculture. The College of Agriculture is significant it the tradition of Midwestern pastoralism, and Curry’s position as artist in residence within the College of Agriculture’s own traditions will be considered. I will consider the history of the University of Wisconsin, the College of Agriculture, American art, American agriculture, and rural culture.”

18 March 2013

I watched King Corn last night. The conceit of this documentary is that two college buddies from Boston set out to grow an acre of corn in a small Iowa town where they both have common ancestors. The film is a fantastically smart, concise, and nuanced look at the way food is produced in America today.

I went into the film expecting to hate it. King Corn is the grandfather of the food system consciousness raising documentary genre. The film came out in the year between 2006’s The Omnivore’s Dilemma and 2007’s Food, Inc. Pollan has his finger in all of these projects, though he plays only a bit part in King Corn. Pollan and his ilk trade in scapegoating various nefarious actors (agribusiness!) and romanticizing small scale organic farmers. At their worst, Pollan projects offer feel good solutions (go to the farmers market! Grow your own vegetables!) to the incredibly complex and challenging question of how to feed the world sustainably.

Pollan and Food, Inc. offer their readers and viewers an enticing formula. They explain to you how the American agricultural system has gone to shit because industrialization, and we are killing ourselves and the environment. But wait! There is an easy solution. You can support small scale organic farmers. Sure you will have to pay a bit more for your food, but it’s a small price to pay for health and sustainability.

King Corn came as a breath of fresh air. The filmmakers approach the topic in the spirit of genuine investigation. They criticize the mistakes of the past, but realize that these mistakes were not only made by evil corporations.

17 March 2013

Today I spend some time reading R Douglas Hurt’s Problems of Plenty. This book is a history of American agriculture in the 21st century. I want to explore agricultural history so that I can place Curry’s time at the College of Agriculture in context. The main theme that Hurt emphasizes in his narrative is the increasing role the federal government played in agricultural policy. The first two decades of the twentieth century were marked by rising incomes for farmers. Farmers incomes increased rapidly during World War I, and then they declined leaving farmers in a depression far before the rest of the country.

16 March 2013

Frank Bill first came to my attention in a piece that Eric Shonkwiler wrote for The Millions about Midwestern literature. Shonkwiler included Bill in a group of new Midwestern writers who were looking at the grittier side of Midwestern life. Bill recently published a piece in The Daily Beast called “Is Masculine Writing Dead?”. The piece made me think about Midwestern writing and Bill’s place in it.

The first thing that Bill wants you to know (he mentions it in the Beast piece and most interviews) is that he has never been to college. No, he has opted for a factory job that starts at 6:30 in the morning. He gets up at 3:30 every morning to write. He wants you to know that this takes incredible dedication. Bill’s Beast piece is a fairly boilerplate nostalgia for lost masculinity mongering. Bill knows how to field dress a deer, and he lives off of its meat.

Bill’s work reminds me of Michael Perry. Both of these writers want to tell you about how they are men of the people who have their finger on the pulse of rural America. Perry’s lack of self awareness has troubled me in the past. His man of the people bit is an affectation that I can’t get around. One of the most central questions of art is the artist’s relation to the society around him. He or she cannot simply be a man of the people, because the very fact that they are taking the time to record what is going on around them separates them from the rest of society.

There are many ways to deal with this fact, but pseudo-populism falls flat. The artist is necessarily an outsider, and this outsider perspective affords him some insights into the society he is writing about. I’ve written before about the coming Midwestern Renaissance, which like the Southern and New England Renaissances before it will reflect upon the regions past glory period. When Faulkner attempted to deal with Southern history, he struggled with the good and the bad.

Bill seems to be proud of his provincialism. Like another famous Midwestern writer he works at a paint plant. Sherwood Anderson famously wrote about the Midwest in Winnesburg, Ohio. Anderson had seen many parts of the world, and his ability to gain a critical perspective allowed him insights that Bill can never hope to achieve.

http://www.thedailybeast.com/articles/2013/03/14/is-masculine-writing-dead.html
http://www.themillions.com/2012/11/bridge-across-the-country-on-the-literature-of-the-midwest.html

14 March 2013

The other day I wrote about seeing David Shields give a presentation at Magers & Quinn. I critiqued his approach to vulnerability. During the presentation, Shields critiqued the writing of Jonathan Franzen. Franzen, he said, strives to keep any signs of vulnerability or his inner character out of his writing. Shields used Franzen as a evidence of the growing irrelevance of the novel form. Shields called for a writing that would embrace wrongness and vulnerability.

I suggested Lena Dunham’s work as evidence of the popularity of vulnerability as a theme in the arts right now. On cue, the Onion has published an article entitled “Next Episode of ‘Girls’ to Feature Lena Dunham Shitting Herself During a Gyno Exam While Eating a Burrito.” The title explains the article succinctly. The writers are parodying Dunham’s style of relentless vulnerability, and the critics who breathlessly applaud it. Given the current vogue for vulnerability, it is worth thinking hard about what vulnerability really is and how to achieve it.

Dunham’s first internet fame came when she posted a video of herself bikini clad and bathing in a water fountain at Oberlin College. As we now know, Dunham’s body is hardly the ideal that the media portrays for women. This video is indicative of a theme in her work, portraying her body in compromising and vulnerable positions.

In this age of social media, sharing is ubiquitous. Many find Facebook and Twitter to be effective outlets for sharing their feelings, and they have begun to redefine what is now to be considered within the realm of privacy. Dunham’s fountain video is an example of this. The ubiquity of vulnerability has lessened its impact, and much of the New Vulnerability falls flat.

If social media is transforming privacy and vulnerability is in vogue, how can one achieve the emotional rawness that is required for effective art? Humans are nothing if not conscious of the way we represent ourselves, both in art and in the everyday. If you are self consciously striving for vulnerability, one can hardly achieve it.

As it relates to one of his books on race, Shields critiqued other writers who approach the topic as outsiders looking in. He explained that his method was superior, because he acknowledged his own racism in the book. As it pertains to racism, Shields may well have produced a more valuable book than other writers who don’t acknowledge their own racism. I would like, however, to see Shields explore the limits of his brand of self conscious vulnerability. If other writers do their topic injustice by suggesting infallibility, so too does Shields, by suggesting unadulterated vulnerability.

The novel, then, seems to remain relevant. By acknowledging and embracing the inherently contrived nature of writing, fiction has the power to suggest truths that those who only allow for reality can’t access.

13 March 2013

I finished Butcher’s Crossing this morning. Will Andrew’s buffalo hunting party gets snowed into the valley they were hunting in, and are forced to winter there. The party makes it through the winter relatively unscathed, but their return journey is thwarted. The river they had to cross to begin their ascent to the pass is flooded with spring runoff, and crossing is difficult. The horses make it across fine, as does the wagon, until a dislodged tree trunk hits one of the horses and forces it into the wagon. The wagon is pushed sideways and the current takes it along with the oxen. The man riding the horse is killed in the accident.

The remaining members of the party make it back to Butcher’s Crossing only to find out that it is quickly on its way to becoming a ghost town. The bottom fell out of the buffalo hide market and the railroad will come through 50 miles north of the town. Williams’ seems to be critiquing the American frontier spirit, because there never actually was a frontier to conquer. On all levels (individual – Will Andrews, group – the hunting party, and society – Butcher’s Crossing), the quest for frontier is thwarted.

Upon returning to Butcher’s Crossing, the hunting party seeks out McDonald the man who ran the buffalo hide processing operation. McDonald promised the men a price for the hides they brought him, and Miller – the organizer of the party – wants to receive payment for the hides that they left at their campsite. They find McDonald in a cheap boarding house. He has no money to pay them, because he lost it all buying hides before the market dropped. Miller cannot accept that McDonald can’t pay him.

The frontier dream is to create something new on one’s own. In this way, Americans find fulfillment and freedom. Frustration comes when we realize that there is nothing new, and that we can’t create anything on our own.

12 March 2013

John Steuart Curry was born in Dunavant, Kansas in 1897. He showed an interest in art at a young age, and attended the art intstitutes of Kansas City and Chicago. Early in his career he worked as an illustrator, and in 1926 he went to Paris to study fine art. In 1926, Curry met Thomas Hart Benton who, along with Grant Wood, become known as the Midwestern Regionalists. These men were all painters who were from the Midwest, and who had studied art in cosmopolitan settings including Europe and New York City. They shared the rural Midwest as subject matter, and believed in painting that which they knew. They were in opposition to abstract modern art, which they felt to be a European contrivance which did not reflect American sensibilities.

This paper will situate Curry within the tradition of Midwestern pastoralism. It will explore how Curry’s paintings and his ideas reflect the Midwestern pastoralism as defined by William Barillas. After an overview of Curry and Midwestern pastoralism generally, I will move onto a discussion of Curry’s time as artist in residence at the University of Wisconsin’s College of Agriculture. The College of Agriculture is significant it the tradition of Midwestern pastoralism, and Curry’s position as artist in residence within the College of Agriculture’s own traditions will be considered. I will consider the history of the University of Wisconsin, the College of agriculture, art, American agriculture, and rural culture. All of these strands will be woven into an argument which will explain the significance and relevance of Curry’s time at the University of Wisconsin as it relates to the Midwestern pastoral tradition.

11 March 2013

Tonight I went to see David Shields at Magers and Quinn to present his new book How Literature Saved My Life. I went to the event because I had followed the debate over his book Reality Hunger: A Manifesto keenly, and I wanted to see the man in person. In Reality Hunger, Shields argues that the realist novel no longer adequately reflects the concerns of people today. I’ve not read the book, but as a lover of novels I was rather opposed to the idea.

As I heard him defend his ideas tonight, I found it difficult to get around his critique of plot. His point is that if a novel is meant to convey ideas, then why should plot be necessary to drive those ideas. I was struck by this argument, because I’ve often said that I read novels not to find out what happens but to find out why it happens. I’m perfectly OK with “spoilers.” I like novels because the characters and plot which they contain seem to be effective ways through which the writer can explore ideas.

In his presentation, Shields quoted David Foster Wallace who said that literature is the bridge that connects essentially isolated individuals. Part of Shield’s argument against the conventional novel is that people can’t conceivably know others thoughts or motivations. The author is limited in his ability to construct characters, because he or she can’t possibly know what another human being is thinking. The author can only know his or her own thoughts.

Shields used “wrongness” as a theme for his presentation. He spoke about how he is interested in being wrong, and how wrongness leads him to greater truths. He read a passage from How Literature Saved My Life in which he listed a lengthy compendium of similarities between himself and George W Bush. The list was supposed to be proof of Shields’ dedication to vulnerability. Vulnerability is a hard thing, especially when it is a key part of a literary movement you are trying to spur. Parts of his list seemed to devolve into jokes, and the exercise of seemed to self consciously vulnerable.

Vulnerability is in vogue right now (see: Lena Dunham), and the popularity and self awareness of vulnerability threatens to strip it of its value, which is not to say that vulnerability is impossible. Vulnerability is essential to making relatable art, and a writer should always strive for it. The writer should strive for it, while keeping in mind that the act of writing itself is a contrivance.

For me, the novel still has value, because it contains characters. Characters and the interactions between them ask the reader to try and conceive of how other people think and feel. While acknowledging that this isn’t possible, it can still be a valuable exercise.

Just as it is impossible to know other people’s motivations, so too is it difficult or impossible to know even one’s own motivations. The strength of fiction is that it acknowledges its contrivances, and yet proposes that it can attain some truth despite itself.