So, while I've been working on this blog, and making empty promises of posting all of the time, I've decided to be out and out about the why:

In the disciplines of anthropology and cultural studies, scholars have a very difficult time of relating their studies to everyday people (anthropologists as a whole are worse, but cultural studies has some zingers). While I'm very good about explaining my research and my views in person, sometimes I'm just not a very good writer.

As I've worked on grants, etc. this term, I've found my writing has improved DRASTICALLY- especially because I've been communicating my ideas on aesthetics and existential concerns in anthropology to people who could more or less give two shakes. My discovery- you can write in a way that makes them want to give three shakes. The secret is writing clearly and conveying your message in a way that seems exciting without coming off like a used car salesman.

Of course, as many of my earlier professors have discovered and have told me and I've ignored until I found it out myslef, the key to pulling it off is to put your ideas in bigger worlds. To be real, cultural anthropology is the most vague discipline out there. We can't even decide in the field what it is, so why expect people outside of it to know we're not Indiana Jones? ANYWAYS, as I was saying, the world is bigger than the things we do, and in the grand scale of life on Earth, it doesn't even matter- no matter how hard we try, there will always be inequality, death, the destruction of art, etc. etc. So how do we get people to care?

By phrasing our research in their worlds. I'm interested in doing work outside of academia proper, and working in museums. So, that means, I have to think complex ideas and convey them in simple terms (and sometimes in a different mode of language- through exhibiting material things). That's the point of this blog: to take the big ideas in my head and convey them to the world around me THROUGH THE WORLD AROUND ME.

The other motive, which I was hinting at before, is that it's initiative for me to a) write more b) in a non-formal, quotidian setting. Although I'm writing for you, the reader, I'm also writing for me, so that  I am better at writing to you.

So, I've been promising this post for a while, but I've been trying to think of the perfect way to come at it. I generally knew what I wanted to say, and why I wanted to say it, but was unable to figure out the 'how'. But, tonight, the lady and I went to a good friend of mine's house, who so happens to be a biological anthropologist, and had a great relaxing time. Being rejuvenated, and full of wine, it hit me while I was laying in bed. So here it is... partially drunk, but coherent hopefully (or at least it will be after I edit it in the morning).

My 'anthropological' interest is in why people aestheticize stuff, on a broad scale. And so, while I can't make general "they do it because..." assertions, I can most certainly shed light on the process of aesthecization through little vignettes. For the past few years, since taking Mark Auslander's "making culture: theory and practice", I have had a particular side interest in holidays- especially Halloween and Christmas (consumerism and symbolism mix in no better ways than through holidays). This post is, given the season, about Christmas.

I am particularly interested in the Christmas tree, and why/how/what/etc. involved in its aestheticization. Particularly, I think the Christmas tree, most certainly in its modern context, but assumedly in its origins, is a site of memory. Let's think through this...

Many people argue that the tree has a pagan origin, but this is only partially true. The decorating of a tree with tinsel (originally small metal pieces) is, indeed, a pagan origin (intended to transform the tree into some sort of symbol/icon/index of the god Bacchus), however, no pagan would ever cut down a tree and move it into their house for 'decorative' purposes. To do such would be to defile nature. However, there would be the ritual of bringing sprigs of trees and leaves into the house (for those pagans with access, this would resemble either our wreath, yule log, or our ivy/holly), but these would have generally already fallen off of the tree, and be considered a 'gift' to the pagan from the tree (note- this is an archaic form of paganism and in no way represents all contemporary forms of this belief, for which I have the utmost respect). The misunderstanding of the Christmas tree, itself, comes from a misunderstanding of pagan ritual, or misinterpretation from Hebrew, in the biblical book of Jeremiah 10:2-4- "Thus saith the Lord, learn not the way of the heathen, and be not dismayed at the signs of heaven... For the customs of the people are vain: one cutteth a tree out of the forest, the work of the hands of the workman, with the axe. They deck it with silver and with gold; they faste it with nails and with hammers, that it move not." Somebody with a deeper knowledge of Paganism will have to explain to me the part about 'move not'.

In the Christian tradition, the tree can be traced to c. 720, when St. Boniface cut down the 'tree of Thor' to disprove the legitimacy of Norse gods to local Germans, and a fir tree grew from the roots of the oak. From this 2 explanations come forth: "...let Christ be at the center of your households..." Boniface says, and the fir tree became a symbol of Christ in the house. OR- as a symbol of the power of God, in the face of Saturnalia and other types of religious observances, the church displays the fir to show how Jesus shined through all other beliefs.

In either belief system you think about your tree, the whole point is rememberance- be it of Bacchus or Jesus. The Christmas tree originates as a site of memory. One of the interesting things about aesthetics, as Mukarovsky argues in his theory of Functional Aesthetics, is that while the aesthetic mode might change (the symbols that represent the aesthetic), the message, in some way, remains intact.

Of course, we can't leave without commenting on the contemporary Christmas tree. For some people, it is a religious symbol. For some, it is a sign of the season without any type of (direct) link to a spiritual ideology- it's a family centered object. Regardless, trees become sites of memory through decorating it with ornaments from one's past- how many trees do we have with past school projects and dated items like "baby's first Christmas"? How many times do we scoff at the store built, pre-decorated trees as being some how stagnant and 'inauthentic'? The aesthetic function of 'remembrance' is carried through from Bacchus to Jesus, to our former selves.

I'd like to leave you with a stretch of the imagination, but let me pre-code it. Bacchus= spiritual being in the 'beyond'. Jesus= part of the father, son, and holy ghost. "Baby's first Christmas"= the past, a person whom we no longer are (some people I know, in their 30's, have the 'baby's first Christmas' ornament their parents bought, and still hang it.). In what way, as Levi-Strauss hints at in his essay The Execution of Father Christmas,  is the Christmas tree an altar to the spirits of the dead? Even in our highly secular society, where the tree fills no explicitly sacred function, does the tree fill some unconscious desire to communicate with the beyond? In this way (strangely enough), the Christmas tree might be related to the zombie walks I studied for my MA Thesis: it is intended to fill a slot in our cognitive vocabulary for which we no longer have a social morphology. The aesthetic function of trees, decorated in the bleakest seasons of the year- to communicate with the spirits that make it so bleak, or who might just have the power to make it better, be they Bacchus, Jesus, or the ghost of our former self.

So, I'll close with a story my good friend Andreas Teuber (a philosophy professor at Brandeis University) told me about an allusion Slavoj Zizek always uses:

A man has been seeing a psychoanalyst for years about a fear that he will be eaten by a giant chicken. After 3 years, he is finally getting better. Then, one day out of the blue, he runs into the analyst and says "He's following, and this time, he really is going to eat me!". The analyst looks at him, and replies "We've been over this a million times- the chicken is not real, and he will not eat you." The patient, nervously replies, "I know that, but does the chicken?!"

We might not be trying to communicate with the past through the Christmas tree- but do the spirits and ghosts know that?

Today, I switched back to using my MacBook Pro after dealing (suffering) with a white MacBook for about 9 months. I could complain about that thing for ages... but to the point. I've been re-installing software, and am currently working on the desktop app for my LiveScribe Smartpen.

In short, the liveScribe allows you to write and record audio simultaneously, and then time syncs the two together, digitizes them, and makes them into a .pdf. If you're a researcher, anthropologist, journalist, or like to experiment with new modes of journalling, this thing is great.

BUT- (and this is why I'm blogging this)- what if we were to use the pen for creating new types of memory tours. Here's the rough sketch: We go around the city, asking people to use the pen to create 'Graffiti' inspired by the area- it can be pictures, words, tags, etc.. Using a smartphone, we could geotag the spaces where we were drawing from, etc. Using something like Layer, we could then upload the pencast, have the drawing come across the wall that was 'targeted' with the drawing, with audio coming out about why, who, what, when, etc. this drawing was taking place. I'd love to do it with the incredibly interesting immigrant communities in Eugene, so as to understand how they see the landscape, but you could potentially use it with professional artists, philosophers, etc. to make some really interesting tours of various spaces.

Let me know if anyone tries this kind of thing out!

Sorry folks- I've been working on finishing up the semester, so it seems that this is a one hit wonder blog. BUT- look for a special christmas post by the end of the week on christmas trees as memorials and sites of memory making.

The quote of the day: "I have a MA with a focus in visual studies, I think I know how to decorate a christmas tree." Response: "Aren't you jewish, and didn't you go to a jewish university for your MA?"

Today, I had the great pleasure of attending the American Holocaust Museum's Conscious Un-Conference, which addressed issues of using social media for acts of social good. Between myself, and my former colleagues Mark Auslander and Penelope Taylor from Brandeis University, people were uninterested in the art museum as a site for social justice.

The projects at Brandeis University (often instigated by members of the 'Cultural Production program' community) have focused on art, and consequently the art museum, as a site for repair-ative justice in under-served and under-represented communities. Among other things, we have focused on a) collaboratively constructing utopian narratives around the themes of a work for purposes of community building, b) using interpretations and critical readings of art that engage in visual literacy and the re-signifying of art in new cultural logics, which often (c) turn into auto-ethnographic narratives that address various facets of racial, ethnic, gender, and sexual inequality.

In bringing these experiences to the table at the (un)conference, I tried to stress the ways in which the critical reading of art is foundational to the multitude of the other critical literacies based around text and media. In one session, I went so far as to point out that one possible explanation for contemporary youth's lack of critical reading skills is the dismissal of art from public school programs. Although seemingly a stretch, it is actually quite logical. The purpose of art is to create alternate realities; students learn, through making art and creative writing, how reality is constructed and not something stumbled upon and found in the world (many of our greatest authors have found this at an early age). With the constant focus on disciplines that rely on a singular level of reality (math, science, english technae, etc.), students have increasingly been distanced from the notion that reality IS constructed. In another session, later in the day, I had the chance to discuss social media and education with a fine group of people, drawing on my internship work at Brandeis University in "technopedagogy" and participatory media. In this session, collectively, a link was drawn between the lack of consideration for the liberatory potentials of creativity and the restriction of web-media materials. Media, in many cases, allows for the authority of the institution to be undermined, just as art-based actions and creative expression...

This is the impetus of this new blog. It is a chance to engage with the everyday in a critical way;  to re- recode the spaces that we take for granted; to take note of the aesthetics that discipline our actions of space; to question the ways landscapes serve as signifieds to the floating, or stable, signifiers of memory; to investigate and interrogate the sensory experience of the 'delirious museum' that is the city. My hope is that I can encourage the educators out there (parents, curious students, teachers) to examine the aesthetics of the everyday and the art of lived experience, so that they might empower their students and children with the skills to critically understand their spaces as works of art, and critically engage with the construction of those spaces.