Saturday, March 8, 2014

On Comic Book Narratives and Art Speigelman's MAUS II

[These notes were produced in conjunction with Dr. Shelley Armitage's Memoir and Identity course; Union Institute and University, Ph.D. in Interdisciplinary Studies; Spring 2012].
 
The comic book form harkens deeply to my soul; a fan of the sanitized color visions of Archie, Jughead, Veronica and Betty, Richie Rich, Casper the Friendly Ghost, and—in high school—Mad and Cracked magazines, as well as the extensive and prolific work of Robert Crumb, a contemporary and peer of Art Spiegelman. MAUS II is a rich and comprehensive retelling of the author’s father’s narrative, of struggling to exist, amid one of the most horrific environments humanity has ever known.
How does the comic book form work to convey elements of the environment in this work? Actual photographic depictions within the walls of Auschwitz, Dachau, and other nefarious locations are few; Speigelman’s drawings may provide visual representation in a way few other documents may. While Raul mentioned that “using a graphic novel to tell a horrible story of the Holocaust is not the most enjoyable way to read a book,” I am challenged to invoke a different creative genre that provides the reader both visual and linguistic immersion, as well as establish and maintain resonant themes associated with the form. A great deal of literature and historical narrative exists regarding the Third Reich, yet few (in my estimation) achieve the level of engagement and playful chronology of Speigelman’s efforts across Maus I and Maus II. Elie Wiesel’s Night is a perennial choice for high-school summer reading lists; an argument might be made to support Speigelman’s Maus II as a viable, and far more graphical, endeavor of historical engagement.

Maus II is important for its leaps in time: the narrator, Speigelman’s father, appears in the author’s present tense, as fulfilling stereotypes surrounding the elderly (the complete narrative’s inciting incident comes as the father claims to have had a heart attack, to garner his son’s attention). As the narrative’s Holocaust thread is sandwiched between moments of interaction within a more ‘civil’ society—including a trip to a grocery store, the illicit occupation of a backyard patio within a gated community, and an incident with a black hitchhiker—the reader is challenged to anticipate characters’ reactions and responses to their world. Glenda poses an important question in her commentary: After the events of September 11th, 2001, how close did US constituencies come, to victimizing ‘the other’ as a result of a collective pain and mourning? My answer would be: as close as Speigelman’s father came, to having empathy or tolerance for the black hitchhiker. The vilification of Arab-Americans following September 11th, 2001 may have helped establish new themes of distrust in our society: not unlike Vladek’s fear, that the hitchhiker would have stolen their groceries from the back seat, some outlets for allegedly “fair and balanced” journalism devoted an abundance of airtime to the discussion of a mosque, to be established within blocks of Ground Zero, in the decade following the events of September 11th, 2001. A similar distrust might be identified in the relationship between Mitt Romney and the Occupy Movement; certainly, the media and Presidential administration’s vilification of those questioning the cause and true nature of those events became a national pastime. A “9/11 Was an Inside Job” bumper sticker is likely to be deemed unpatriotic by many demographic groups and political organizations; similar characterizations may come in examining Joe Arpaio’s political movement regarding Barack Obama’s citizenship, or even the beleagured supporters of Ron Paul’s “End the Fed” movement (not to mention the excised Maine delegates at the GOP Convention). Because of Speigelman’s careful and earnest portrayal of his father’s narrative and tribulations in Maus II, I feel as though a more clear portrait of the mechanisms and personalities at work our divisive political climate may come into better focus.   

Spiegelman, Art. Maus II: A Survivor’s Tale: And Here My Troubles Began. New York: Pantheon Books, 1991.

Notes on "Inclusion and Democracy" (Young, 2000)


[This essay was produced in conjunction with Dr. Steger's Public Policy and Social Justice course; Union Institute and University, Ph.D. in Interdisciplinary Studies, Fall 2012].

            The nature and fostering of accurate and just representation within democratic structures is Iris Marion Young’s primary goal, across her 2000 work Inclusion and Democracy. The extent to which individuals and groups’ voices may be heard, acknowledged and deemed a valuable and intrinsic element of a properly functioning democratic system. This paper will review and discuss chapters three, four, and six, identify how concepts of inclusivity and justice manifest in formal and informal policies of residential segregation, and will provide brief application for Young’s representative relationship, at work in emerging practices for the production and dissemination of works of creative musical expression.  

Section One: Chapter Analysis

Chapter 3, “Social Difference as a Political Resource”


            According to Young, a logic of identity fails to acknowledge both individuals’ characteristics, as well as individuals’ relationship to others within conceptualized social groups, especially when those groups are constructed by entities outside of the members of that group. “Everyone relates to a plurality of social groups; every social group has other social groups cutting across it” (p. 88). Mere aggregates, rooted in the logic of identity Young seeks to identify, fail to adequately represent interests and characteristics; the organization or entity performing the tabulation may likely reflect their own interests and goals. Young’s example of smokers being counted by both the Cancer Society, towards an understanding of who contributes to health care advocacy groups (p. 89), as well as by insurance companies, towards the construction of actuarial tables, illustrates this distinction (aggregation by cigarette manufacturers as well takes place, for purposes of targeting advertising and marketing). The conceptualization of a specific social group “become[s] confused when they treat groups as substantially distinct entities whose members all share some specific attributes or interests that do not overlap with any outsiders” (p. 89). This alternative to a logic of identity, and the subsequent construction of social groups and structure, takes as its basis individuals’ affirmation and understanding of their own identity.  

            Replacing a logic of identity with a “net of restricting and reinforcing relationships” (p. 93), Young’s call for reconsideration of social structure, and the acknowledgement of difference, takes root in the theory of Peter Blau, who suggests “individual people occupy varying positions in the social space, and their positions stand in determinate relation to other positions” (p. 94). The positionality of any individual within a social structure is forged by the “action and interaction” (p. 95) between all members; “they [individuals] exist not as states, but as processes” (p. 95). Drawn to group membership through affinity—the sharing of interests, goals, and characteristics—Young advocates for a system of structural relations that empower and enable individuals’ development and growth. One illustration of such dynamics of interdependency remains, according to Young, the existing structure of economic class. As “most people depend on employment by private enterprises for their livelihoods, and the owners and managers depend on the competence and co-operation of their employees for revenues” (p. 95), symbiotic relationships of interdependency are critical to the success of both individuals and institutions. Much recent scholarship and rhetoric (not limited to the Occupy Wall Street movement) has sought to discern the nature and efficacy of economic mobility within a capitalist economy; some have called for, and participated in, active protests against current systems of structural economic groups, claiming economic mobility to be the privilege of the already-wealthy. Separate study of such protests may illuminate Young’s call for “positive group definition” (p. 103), over a mere and antiquated logic of identity.

Chapter 4, “Representation and Social Perspective”

            Young’s primary question in chapter four identifies the relationship between representative groups and individuals, and their interactions and actions within a system of social structure. May political theory “conceptualize representation as a differentiated relationship among political actors engaged in a process extending over space and time” (p. 123)? And, “what are inclusive communicative relations in such flowing, decentered, mass politics” (p. 121)? Young answers these questions through establishing the power implicit in the sharing of social perspectives, amongst individuals and group members. The nature of an “authentic democracy” is described as reliant upon a careful balance between representation and participation, on the part of individuals, groups, and institutions.

            Young seeks to more clearly frame the difficulty faced by representatives within a democracy, before proceeding to define the differentiated relationship she seeks. Young cites Hanna Pitkin’s dilemma of representation: is a representative “a delegate who carries the mandate of a constituency which he or she advocates” (p. 128), or is a representative to “act as a trustee who exercises       independent judgment about the right thing to do under these political circumstances” (p. 128)? The relationship between the represented individuals and groups, and their representative in a system of social structure, is Young’s answer: the democratic mode for which she advocates calls for both constituents’ “anticipation and recollection” (p. 125). This relationship, illustrated through citing Derrida’s concept of differance, may more fully acknowledge the history and legacy that has preceded the moment of representation at hand. The nature of the connection and interaction between individuals changes, when examining representatives and their constituents, and constituents and one another.

            Young distinguishes the relationships at work in representation, defining categories of authorization and accountability: further refining these into modes of representation (by opinion, interest, and perspective (p. 133)), these democratic actions inhibit the statement of multiple perspectives within a social structure. Of these modes, perspective helps construe a social structure most conducive to just and adequate representation, one based on differentiated relationships. The result of such may made evident by the actions of representatives, as “representing an interest or an opinion usually entails promoting certain specific outcomes in the decision-making process. Representing a perspective, on the other hand, usually means promoting certain starting-points for discussion” (p. 140). To help construct a social structure based in the representation of different individual and group perspectives, Young advocates for a plurality of representative bodies (p. 143), but questions the reservation of positions within representative bodies, to account for underrepresented individuals and groups. Within a social structure of representation, mechanics intended provide representation to underrepresented populations “can tend to freeze both the identity of that group and its relations with other groups in the polity” (p. 149). As democratic systems may be “decentered” to such an extent as to disallow adequate representation across all groups in a society, an approach rooted in establishing shared perspectives amongst representatives and constituencies may foster more effective democratic relationships.    

Chapter 6, “Residential Segregation and Regional Democracy”

            In chapter six, Young relocates her discussion from the metaphorical and into the actual spaces of dwelling within a representative democracy. As location and juxtaposition of individuals within a given social structure may well determine the demographics of groups, “space itself matters” (p. 196). How may “spatial group differentiation […] be voluntary, fluid, without clear borders, and with many overlapping, unmarketed, and hybrid places” (p. 197)?

            Young’s answer to this need comes in an assessment of residential development, including policies and practices at work in the United States, as well as in European cities. As growth in urban areas continues to populate suburbs, trends in the physical location of dwellings have continued to establish and impose systems of representation; those living in a specific area may encounter “schools […] of poor quality, both physically and academically, and they often have poor access to medical services” (p. 206). As some locations are, due to a scarcity of resources, rendered less desirable than others, “these structures in turn reinforce racial discrimination by creating less desirable places associated with the subordinate groups” (p. 207). This causal relationship, between the construction of residential neighborhoods and the populations who occupy them, often leads to situations of misrepresentation.  

            The redefinition of segregation, in terms of residential development remains critical to Young’s argument regarding segregation and the just functioning of democracy in such locations. Examination of housing prices supports a more clear definition of “relative disadvantage and absolute deprivation” (p. 207). Following exacerbation of the United States’ housing crisis in 2008, the dangers to democracy inherent in residential segregation by economic class may have likely grown since Young’s identification of three: the discouragement of public spaces and encounters, the limiting of conversation between individuals with different characteristics, and—perhaps most salient, given the widening economic achievement gap—the inherent distancing of the wealthy from others, creating a false sense that “those more well-off can abandon a sense that wealthier citizens share problems with their less well-off neighbors” (p. 213). Young’s call for “differentiated solidarity” may have as well become more salient since the time of her writing; aspects of the environment inherent in residential development have come to require the attention of many participants within a given neighborhood.  

Section Two: Conceptions of Justice and Public Policy

            Young’s concept of justice extends across her discussions of representation, and is a critical component to the proper functioning of ‘deep’ democratic systems; this relationship is described in her introduction as an “operating conviction” (p. 5). Justice is promoted through the participatory and representative actions of the elected and their constituencies, when parties engage based on both their own interests, but also “to the particular situation of others and be willing to work out just solutions to their conflicts and collective problems from across their situated positions” (p. 7). Differentiation of individuals and groups supports the pursuit of justice within an inclusive democratic system, as individuals and groups acknowledge a plurality of voices. The deepening of democratic representation and relationships takes place “when we encourage the flourishing of associations that people form according to whatever interests, opinions, and perspectives they find important” (p. 153).

            Young’s conception of justice is evident in her assessment of residential development and segregation inherent within systems of representation: “whether technically legal or not, a great many property owners believe they are entirely within their rights to decide who will or will not live in their property […] real estate agents often life, falsely or selectively advertise, and ‘steer’ white clients to some neighborhoods and people of color to others” (p. 200). As justice is represented as a product of inclusive and democratic systems, practices of segregation in residential development persist, due in part to a lack of the “strong, autonomous, and plural activities of civic associations” (p. 153) an inclusive and representative democratic system requires. Inequality in housing, including real estate agents’ choices, mortgage rates and availability, and, in some American cities, urban revitalization through widespread demolition, have continued to make complex the delivery of justice within urban, suburban, and rural residential development. The participation of constituencies, and more clear representational accountability may aid in establishing and maintaining policies of equitable residential development; neighborhoods that create “plural activities of civic associations” (p. 153) are likely to help devalue and dismiss informal and illegal practices, by landlords, real estate agents, and urban development planning boards.        

Section Three: Linking Young’s Concept of Representation with Creative Musical Expression

            Young’s concept of representation, characterized as “a process of anticipation and recollection” (p. 125) provides an interesting perspective to discussions of the commoditization of popular recorded music. The extent to which individuals and groups were, historically, represented within popular music genres, relied upon commercial categorization and marketing: early rock and roll artists were subject to segregation, by radio stations, record stores, the media, and elsewhere. As creative musical expression became a forum for individuals and groups’ opinions and criticisms of society, commercial entities became further confounded by a complex and increasingly diverse audience: during the 1960s, traditional forms of targeted marketing for the new abundance of creative musical expression-- including  protest, escapism, and fantasy—became less useful. Some artists started their own publication firms and record labels; some of these suffered a lack of representation within genres of popular music.   

            Young’s relationship of representation may provide a useful definition for those seeking to create works of creative musical expression: as “representation [is] a process of anticipation and recollection flowing between representative and constituents’ participation in activities of authorization and accountability” (p. 125), an artists’ ability to forge and nurture a relationship with his or her listeners may have reached an important and technological plateau. The availability of high-quality digital home recording and broadband network connections, as well as the ability of artists to distribute original recordings quickly and efficiently, through a variety of online platforms, has helped to create and establish the relationship between represented and participating individuals and their self-selected audiences within the genre of creative musical expression. If a tension is to exist between those represented and those participating within the realm of original and popular music, individuals’ choices in monetization—what one is willing to pay for—may come to dictate a recording’s success. The audience (and purchasers) of individual works of creative musical expression may be, at this time, less subject to corporate and economic efforts of commoditization than any previous moment in the history of the genre; rather, artists and musicians may seek to establish new collaborative and critical relationships with their listeners. The nature of this collaborative relationship may simultaneously represent a new conceptualization of differentiation, between musical artists and their audiences, and not merely the relationship between artists and the record labels to which they are signed.   
 
Works Cited

Ivison, D. (1 Nov. 2005). “Review of Inclusion and Democracy by Iris Marion Young.” Constellations: An International Journal of Critical and Democratic Theory, 11,3, 445-449. Retrieved from http://www.politicalreviewnet.com/polrev/reviews/CONS/R_1351_0487_037_1004558.asp

Tapscott, D. and Williams, A. (2006). Wikinomics: How Mass Collaboration Changes Everything. New York NY: Penguin.

Young, I. (2000). Inclusion and Democracy. New York NY: Oxford University Press.

 

 

 

 

 

Musical Theater and Theatrical Rock: An Annotated Bibliography

[This annotated bibliography was produced in 2012, in conjunction with Union Insitute and University's Ph.D. in Interdisciplinary Studies program, under the supervision of Dr. Elden Golden].

Bowie, D. (1972). The Rise and Fall of Ziggy Stardust and the Spiders from Mars. [vinyl record]. New York: RCA.
This concept album, produced in London by David Bowie and Ken Scott, is an important work of sustained narrative through popular rock music. As its back cover invited home listening (“To Be Played At Maximum Volume” was the work’s original liner notes), the immersive soundscape, and the retelling of a fictional alien musician’s ascension to celebrity is detailed through Bowie’s lyrics, as well as the band’s expressive control. This work has been regarded as important to critics of popular music as well as theatrical and ‘art rock’ paradigms.


David Berger and Richard Peterson assert a cyclical nature to the construction of cultural symbols. While sociological theories identified the construction of symbols across social and cultural realms, this article addresses and develops cultural, and specifically musical, symbolic epistemologies. The authors cite economic factors as having historically driven marketing and manufacturing in the music industry during the period 1948-1973, and compile data regarding the concentration of commercially-successful hit recordings among only a few recording firms (RCA Victor, Columbia, Decca, and Capitol are the four largest companies identified). The extent to which these firms produced music that resembled previously commercially-successful music is a characteristic identified by Berger and Peterson as “homogeneity.”

With the advent of iTunes and other forms of digital distribution, discussion of epistemology in popular music has been technologically refreshed since 1975. Still wildly relevant, however, is the authors’ point regarding the relationship between music publishing and distribution companies and the way in which an audience’s choices in listening material are limited by this relationship. Berger and Peterson’s discussion of rock music’s formative years is useful and critical, as they examine how marketing and symbolism in popular music was crafted by commercial success throughout the 1950s and 1960s.

 Brown, R. (1954). Sound. New York, NY: Longmans, Green and Co.
Writing an advanced text for use in conjunction with a physics course, University College of London senior physics lecturer R.C. Brown examines the physical properties of sound, through discussion of vibration and wave theory. Seeking to debunk “the notion that maximum amplitude always occurs when the applied and natural frequencies are equal” (p. v), Brown presents mathematical constructs to more clearly identify the reproduction and perception of sound. In the section “The Vibrations of Various Systems,” Brown discusses the vibration of specific instruments, including rods, air columns, open and closed resonance tubes, organ pipes, and ultrasonic devices, including piezo-electric devices. Written prior to the advent of transitorization, and popularization, of sound amplification systems, Brown’s work reflects a theoretical scrutiny to the production of sound; a final chapter identifies procedures for determining wave-length and frequency analysis in specific acoustic environments.


Citron, S. (2001). Sondheim and Lloyd-Webber: The New Musical. New York, NY: Oxford University Press.



 In this comprehensive anthology of essays, Cox and Warner provide useful introductions to nine sections, including “Music in the Age of Electronic (Re)production,” “Experimental Musics,” “Modes of Listening,” and “DJ Culture.” Work from fifty-seven authors is presented, including essays by theorists (McLuhan, Barzun, Cage) and performers (Brian Eno, Glenn Gould, Ornette Coleman). Establishing an important shift in ontological and epistomological approaches to music during the 20th century, Cox and Warner seek to describe a “spectrum of musical practices” across this anthology. The importance of repetition-based electronic sound, in a variety of musical environments, is noted—in hip-hop, reggae, improvisational music, techno, and elsewhere. Cox and Warner provide biographical information about each contributor; this massive and recent work is important to studies of how technology and participation continue to change the nature and definition of music in the 21st century.

Davis, G. and Jones, R. (1989). Sound Reinforcement Handbook. Milwaukee, WI: Hal Leonard.
With the advent and popularization of recording and sound technology during the 1980s, Yamaha Corporation, a producer of recording studio equipment as well as a variety of instruments, commissioned a specific and comprehensive reference manual, for use in understanding aspects of sound reinforcement. Twenty chapters are subdivided into sections with subtitles; over four hundred illustrations are included as well, and are separately indexed. Davis and Jones focus on specific elements of sound reproduction, including microphones, amplifiers, dynamic range control procedures, after providing theoretical examination of relative decibel level, loudness, absorption, and reverberation. Mathematical formulas at work in speaker construction, amplifier rating, and equalization, phase and crossover networks, are provided. While one of Davis and Jones’ later chapters identify a studio’s potential utilization of MIDI and sequencing, Yamaha’s production of this work, in conjunction with instrument and printed music distributor Hal Leonard, has become regarded as a famous effort in the reinforcement, amplification, and replication of sound, before a revolution of digital equipment dramatically changed both procedures and equipment.

DeWitt, H. (1983). Van Morrison: The Mystic’s Music. Fremont, CA: Horizon Books.
The personal and public perception of one’s art is the subject of DeWitt’s discussion of Van Morrison, beginning with the artist’s career as leader of the band Them, in 1964. Identifying through interviews and lyrical interpretation Morrison’s themes of Celtic spirituality and the songwriter’s prophetic stance, DeWitt describes Morrison’s shift to “a pastoral direction” of music in the mid-1970s. Both Morrison’s influence on contemporaries, as well as his tumultuous relationship with his record label, are detailed. DeWitt concludes by presenting a chronicle of Morrison’s career, cataloging both live and ‘bootleg’ recordings. While Morrison’s career would continue long after DeWitt’s discussion, this work illuminates the songwriter’s presentation of an epic mystical vision through the production of a complete album, including in what DeWitt considers the writer’s masterwork, 1968’s “Astral Weeks.”

Doyle, J. (Director). (2007). Company: A Musical Comedy [motion picture]. United States: Image Entertainment.
This filmed production of Sondheim’s original 1970 musical is staged minimally, as if in cabaret, and features Raul Esparza and Angel Desai in lead roles; staging was by Lonny Price, a television  producer. Notable for its modernization of Sondheim’s musical themes and orchestration, this DVD release followed the musical’s receiving a Tony Award in 2007 for Best Revival. The social commentary, including characterization of the work’s setting, Manhattan, remains relevant decades following its inception.

Einsenberg, E. (1987). The Recording Angel: Explorations in Phonography. New York, NY: McGraw-Hill.
Through introductions to each chapter that cite narratives of record collectors, Eisenberg’s discussion of the commoditization of recorded music, offering aesthetic and capitalist context for individuals’ experience collecting and listening to recordings. Evolution in forms of phonography are described; Eisenberg traces physical aspects of music reproduction in the home, noting socioeconomic aspects of sheet music distribution, concert attendance, “musical snobbery,” and the advent of the widespread availability of recordings. In chapter eight, Eisenberg identifies the “self-produced” recording artist as most prevalent in modern music; this trend was illustrated by artists such as Stevie Wonder and Frank Zappa at the time of Eisenberg’s writing, but has only continued to grow exponentially, alongside the popularization of home recording technology and virtual distribution methods. This work has become a seminal text in the psychology and philosophy of recorded audio; its latest edition was printed in 2005 by Yale University Press.  

Firesign Theater, The. (2010). Duke of Madness Motors: the Complete “Dear Friends” Radio Era 1970-1972. [DVD and book]. Canada: Seeland.
Compiling seventy-five hours of improvised radio broadcasts on an FM station, this book and DVD compiles and provides cultural and historical context for the work of The Firesign Theater, an improvisational comedy group based in California. Having entertained success through major-label releases in the late 1960s, Peter Bergman, David Ossman, Philip Proctor, and Philip Austin produced a radio program weekly, for two years; the absurdist scripts parodied theater and radio play, dialogue and language, a “freeform sandbox” of both linear and abstract interactions. The book contains essays by each member regarding the creative process and technique of the productions. The work of the Firesign Theater remains unparalleled in its presentation of surreal narrative produced by a limited cast.

Fordin, H. (1974). Vocal Selections from “That’s Entertainment.” New York, NY: Big Three Music Corp.
This collection features over sixty songs featured in the 1974 film “That’s Entertainment,” a compilation of musicals filmed by MGM studios filmed during the 1930s and 1940s. Fordin provides an ample introduction to and context for the printed musical material, through a description of the studio’s leadership, the canon of talented performers who appeared in the original films, and the legendary music department at work in the studio at the time. This volume presents the piano score and vocal, as well as guitar chord symbols, for each song—including selections form 1939’s “The Wizard of Oz,” the 1949 film “American in Paris,” and 1941’s “Singin’ in the Rain.” The period from which these compositions emerge remains one of the most dynamic in the history of American musical performance captured on film.

Harris, J. (1993). Philosophy at 33 1/3 rpm: Themes of Classic Rock Music. Chicago, IL: Open Court.
Harris’ exploration of philosophical themes in popular rock music lyrics moves thematically, not chronologically, seeking commonalities. While this work cites a variety of philosophers as well as many lyrics and cultural events taking place during the 1960s and 1970s, Harris is dismissive of the music of the 1950s, critical of record companies’ marketing strategies as stifling artists’ creativity. While chapters such as “Too Old to Rock and Roll, Too Young to Die,” “The Theology of Rock,” “The Greening of Rock Music,” and “Rock Music and Alienation” discuss specific issues of sociology, epistemology, and philosophy, Harris’ progression does not appear systematic; Plato, Aristotle, Kant, and others are cited in comparison to, but not necessarily in complement of, themes present in classic rock lyrics. Harris exalts Pink Floyd’s “Dark Side of the Moon” (1972) as an expression of how the form of an extended recording embraces a sustained theoretical discussion—in the Floyd album, an embrace of radical antipsychiatry. While Harris’ work was criticized in the Library Journal as an “overly intellectualized study of rock that misses the emotionalism of the music” (Szatmary, 1994), this discussion remains important in the continuing academic study of popular culture and music.

Heerman, V. (director). (1930). Animal Crackers [motion picture]. United States: Paramount.
This popular comedy film features the four Marx Brothers, in an adaptation of an original Broadway production by the same name, written by George S. Kaufman and Morrie Ryskind. With original songs and musical themes for specific characters, songwriters Harry Ruby and Bert Kalmar added additional musical score; the Marx Brothers, following their popularity from 1929’s The Cocoanuts, contributed comedy material, as well as original musical score (Chico’s piano composition “I’m Daffy Over You” would be played by Harpo on the harp in a later film). The plot satirizes Groucho’s character Captain Spaulding, an African explorer whose heralded return from an expedition; the Brothers employ dramatic and comedic asides to the camera, and establish unprecedented conventions of cinematic music and narrative.

Jones, J. (2003). Our Musicals, Ourselves: A Social History of the American Musical Theatre. Waltham, MA: Brandeis University Press.
Jones’ criticism of musical theater, and its abilities to represent individuals, is a sweeping accomplishment of theory and history. Through chronological explanation of the evolution of popular musicals on stage, as well as in film and recording, Jones details each work, its impact and history, as well as its relevance to his larger narrative of theater criticism. A dialogue develops between the attendees and performers of specific works; one may discover a host of relationships and trends through the comprehensive assessment provided. This work is regarded as critical to those seeking to understand the dynamics of representation at work in the production and dissemination of creative works of theatrical and musical expression.

Kalmar, B. and Ruby, H. (1936). The Kalmar Ruby Songbook. New York, NY: Random House.
Compiling eight handwritten scores of songs featured in Vaudeville, Broadway, and early Hollywood productions, this work identifies and provides context for the work of songwriters Bert Kalmar and Harry Ruby. With commentaries by Irving Berlin, Groucho Marx, Moss Hart, Robert Benchley and others, transition of musical compositions across venues of performance—including from stage to film—remains a prominent theme. While later biographies and study of the importance of Kalmar and Ruby’s compositions may provide a more broad context, this work is important for its historical specificity: the illumination and discussion of Captain Spaulding’s recurring motif, for example, found in the Marx Brothers’ early production Animal Crackers, is critical and enlightening, due in part to this book’s age. Kalmar and Ruby’s success as a songwriting team for stage and film lasted until Kalmar’s death in 1947.

Lomax, J. and Lomax, A. (1934). American Ballads and Folk Songs. New York, NY: Macmillan.
Following popularity surrounding the publication of his Cowboy Songs in 1910, John Lomax worked with his brother to compile nearly two hundred songs from wax records, aluminum and celluloid records, singing from different members of their family, located across five states, and from previously published collections. As well, the authors toured universities in the early 1930s, seeking American folk songs. In contextualizing paragraphs, the authors cross-reference the sources of melodies and lyrics. Each song’s melody is written in musical score, without accompaniment. This collection is remarkable for its African-American spirituals and songs, collected from a variety of southern communities, as well as state farms and prisons. Interviews with street performers, including Lead Belly (p. 117), help make this resource exhaustive and comprehensive. This work is an important collection of folk songs, the result of great effort in folk musicology in the early 20th century.

Beginning with a discussion of historical subjectivity and the importance of symbolic action in democratic society, Magee uses Emerson to introduce aesthetic and artistic value of what Dewey called a “demand for variety” (as cited by Magee, p. 20). Viewing Emerson’s work as challenging the reader on a new participatory and collaborative level, Magee examines Ralph Ellison’s fiction as providing an important 20th century example, of an emancipated voice that gained social value, working against “unantagonized history” (p. 109). In his third section Magee cites Amiri Baraka (LeRoi Jones) and John O’Hara’s work in jazz clubs in Greenwich Village in the 1950s, as further practice of a new theoretical grounding for a uniquely American embrace of language. The intersection of identity, participatory democracy, and aesthetic, public use of language is critical to modern theories of communication, media, and human relationships.

This survey of musical theater includes Miller’s analysis of a number of popular works of musical theater, including March of the Falsettos, Ragtime, and Passion. The author provides detailed history of each, as well as an “overture” of introduction. Miller details characters’ motivations and interior monologues, and how audience members may come to relate or empathize with situations and circumstances. This work is most useful to producers, seeking to direct performers, and describe emotive qualities to be portrayed onstage.

Miller, S. (2003). Let the Sun Shine In: The Genius of Hair. Portsmouth, NH: Heinemann.
Scott Miller’s contextualization for Hair is personal and useful: his production company had completed its run of the musical days prior to September 11, 2001. In this history and description of the pioneering work of representation and participatory theater, Miller regards producers’ choices carefully; the popularization of the musical, through recordings and later film, represent the work’s accessibility and relevance, beyond the scope of its original narrative. Hair’ s topical nature has, and will likely continue, to generate much criticism. For this, Miller’s work serves as a clear and fair assessment of the work’s viability and legacy.

Miller, S. (2011). Sex, Drugs, Rock & Roll, and Musicals. Hanover, NH: Northeastern University Press.
Scott Miller identifies trends in cultural criticism through the genre of musical theater, and how audience demographics and writers’ and producers’ intentions have been influenced by changes in society. Extending themes established in his earlier works, Miller identifies ten modern works of musical film and stage—including Lippa’s The Wild Party, Webber and Rice’s Jesus Christ Superstar, and the film The Rocky Horror Picture Show­—as encapsulating a new manifestations of performance and of the relationship between the creators of a musical production, seeking a renewal of identity within their audiences. The extent to which musical theater may allow the dismantling of expressive individuals, and the realm of enlivened fantasy is critical to Miller’s analysis of each work, and his concluding summation. Miller’s discussion of the maturation of musical theater is important to a contextualization of the genre’s role in describing modern dynamics of artistic power and representation. With this important collection of theater criticism, Miller continues to establish both his reputation as a theater critic as well as the creative expressive genre he seeks to define.

Paradiso’s paper documents and examines the Brain Opera, a “touring participatory electronic musical installation” that opened after the first Lincoln Center Festival in July of 1996. This musical and physical environment, constructed beneath a gridwork of trusses, encapsulated participants in sound and physical sensation. A variety of triggers, motion sensors, and interactive fields created an original music, built of users’ motions. Paradiso describes the purpose of the Brain Opera to replicate an environment “inspired by the way our minds congeal fragmented experiences into rational thought” (p. 3); the result of this MIT project is described as having posed a challenge to interactivity and the gratification that may or may not come from the fragmentation of our visceral and musical experience.

Russell, K. (director). (1975). Tommy [film]. United States: Columbia Pictures.
Utilizing The Who’s 1969 studio recording of the same name, producers Ken Russell and Robert Stigwood worked with composer Pete Townshend to properly and fully adapt the original album (for which Townshend won a Grammy) as a motion picture. Personalities, including Tina Turner, Jack Nicholson, and others were depicted in roles from Townshend’s original narrative. The film, produced in Great Britain, was a success financially, and continued to innovate the relationship of film and sustained musical works of “rock opera” and popular music composition.

Sandburg, C. (1955). The American Songbag. New York, NY: Harvest/Harcourt Brace Jovanovich.
Seeking to help complete the “song history of America” (p. vii), poet Carl Sandburg collected nearly three hundred folk songs into thematic sections, including “Dramas and Portraits,” “Pioneer Memories,” and “The Great Open Spaces.” Sandburg provides ample contextualization for each song, detailing its region of origin, publication history, and lyrical interpretation. While each song is transcribed in musical score with piano accompaniment, the author’s chapter of introduction discusses problems in dialectical interpretation of lyrics, as well as promotes the establishment of a relevant, American canon of folk music—those songs beyond classification, and are available for participants’ revision and new use. Sandburg’s collection provides critical contextualization of music, outside of music produced specifically for public performance.

Seeger, R. (1948). American Folk Songs for Children. New York, NY: Doubleday.
Described as “no sudden notion” in Carl Sandburg’s introduction, Ruth Seeger’s collection of songs provides extensive pedagogical and theoretical foundation for the use of music with children. Identifying contexts for linguistic activities such as tone play and linguistic repetition, Seeger describes folk songs as evolving, changing, and ever-revised by the participants in the song. Over one hundred songs are presented in musical score, alongside additional verses and brief italicized introductions by the author. First published in 1948, Seeger’s collection and contextualization remains a seminal work in pedagogical strategies at work in useful and engaging music education.

Defining the term ‘soundscape’ to include both natural, non-human elements as well as the complex human sounds that populate one of our senses, Schafer’s discussion proceeds historically through the Industrial Revolution and the “Electric Revolution,” a section introduced by a passage from Thomas More’s Utopia. A classification of sound is presented, based upon acoustic, psychoacoustic, semiotic and aesthetic criteria; discussion of the interplay of frequency, volume, dynamics, and perception aid Schafer in further defining modern sonography. In a chapter titled “Noise,” Schafer examines local and regional customs, practices, and laws regarding unwanted sound; across data collected in the early 1970s, individuals’ complaints regarding unwanted background noise establish traffic and air conditioning units are key components of our modern “soundscape.” Schafer’s discussion ends with metaphysical conclusions, noting the importance of silence to any examination of sound.

Sondheim, S. (1970). Company [audio recording]. United States: Sony Classics.
This audio recording features the cast of the first Broadway production of Steven Sondheim’s 1970 work. Originally released on vinyl and in 1999 on Sony’s Broadway Masterworks label, this audio CD features Dean Jones and Elaine Stritch in the lead roles of Bobby and Joanne. This musical continues to garner acclaim, for its deconstruction of traditional narrative in the genre; rather, characters speak independently and together, questioning the venue of theater’s power of representation and musical presentation. Stephen Sondheim remains one of musical theater’s preeminent composers; productions of Company remain common off-Broadway.

Recorded in late 1968 and early 1969 by The Who at IBC Studios in London, Tommy was conceived of and composed by guitarist Pete Townshend, and has been hailed as a critical work in the redefinition of popular music’s ability to maintain a sustained discussion of socially-relevant themes; here, Townshend’s work renders a character—Tommy—as impaired, following his witnessing his mother’s infidelity to his father. Characters, including the Acid Queen, Tommy himself, and a cruel doctor are each ascribed specific musical themes. The Who’s original recording of Tommy was released to critical success in 1969, and film and stage adaptations soon followed; revivals of the work continue today both on Broadway and London’s West End, rendering the musical relevant and still unique.

Conceived by composer Andrew Lloyd Webber and lyricist Tim Rice, this studio recording—defined by some as a concept album, in the modern rock tradition— was the first manifestation of this popular musical work. While adaptations for stage and film would follow, this recording was the result of collaboration between an instrumental ensemble and a diversity of vocal talent; the retelling of the Christ narrative has been described as loosely following the Gnostic texts, and was subject to much criticism for its exclusion of the resurrection. This work has been revived in film (1971) and on Broadway numerous times; a March 2012 revival on Broadway is forthcoming.  

Wollman, E. (2009). The Theater Will Rock: A History of the Rock Musical, from Hair to Hedwig. Ann Arbor MI: University of Michigan Press.
Elizabeth Wollman’s chronological discussion of popular rock music and its influence on musicals is an important work of contextualization. Tracing the relationship between these creative genres from Hair (“and its imitators,” as her third chapter is titled), Wollman is keen to observe how the influence of popular and rock musics changed and helped shape future productions of musical theater. Describing the influence of Pink Floyd’s theatrical Dark Side of the Moon, as well as their film soundtrack works, Wollman conceives of a musical theater in which both the representational, absurd, and outright musical may exist: through chronological narrative, Wollman notes popular record producers and their influence on the creation of theatrical recordings. Focused on the late 1960s through the 1970s, including the popularization of The Rocky Horror Picture Show, Wollman’s history is a useful commentary and insightful reference.

Notes on the Limitations of Constructed Language

[These notes were produced in conjunction with Dr. Diane Allerdyce's Research Methods II course; Union Institute and University, Fall 2011].
 
“Greece Falls Into ‘Death Spiral’: Rising Debt, No Growth” – CNBC headline, October 4 2011
                          
            The state of our English language as a means of individuals’ communication and liberation has never been more complex, made so through the influence of new political, technological, and environmental identity—as we find new ways to employ our shared experiences to get ourselves across. Beyond Lakoff and Johnson’s full metaphorical interpretations of our language, news headlines and the rhetoric of the media employ figurative language and a bleak image of physical descent to represent a country’s economic distress: we have become accustomed to these characterizations, to description of individuals and groups, regions and nations through their economic status, a personification of internal and external patterns of trade, commerce, credit, and solvency. How do these elements together form a society based on preconceived, commonly-agreed-upon, constructions of language—one that may provide voice and promote consumption of the humanities across a diversity of genres?

“When I f*ck up, who bails me out?” – Wall St. Protestor, October 4 2011
                                                                                     
            Is it the limitation of the way we may communicate with each other through language that appears to most complicate our understanding. Chomsky, in a 1971 debate with Foucault: “Our concept of human nature is certainly limited; it's partially socially conditioned, constrained by our own character defects and the limitations of the intellectual culture in which we exist.” As in the protestor’s dramatic statement above, our words—themselves representations of thoughts and actions, however metaphorical—extend to grasp terms of social conditioning and environmental woe, the “character defects” Chomsky and Foucault seek to define through their discourse. We are, by Foucault’s account, not insane: “nobody is more conservative than those people who tell you that the modern world is afflicted by nervous anxiety or schizophrenia” (Foucault). He views our state of being as one that borders on a distinct and “very paradoxical” disease, one in which our definition of madness is nearly irrelevant, one central source of malcontent at its root. Humanistic inquiry—the production of the arts, writing, or the criticism of any creative, expressive element—is subject to this situation of psychological paradox, according to Foucault; according to Chomsky, the way we see ourselves and our inquiry is built in part by the culture that surrounds us.

             What kinds of violence are permitted to take place, in the name of justice? The nightsticks and pepper spray of downtown Manhattan, the growing protests and calls to leaderless revolution in the Occupy movement provide a passionate response to a situation of human limitation; reduced to Chomsky’s words, the mass arrests and persecution of non-violent protestors may be “reduced to its essentials and forgetting legalisms, what is happening is that the state is trying to prosecute people for exposing its crimes”(Chomsky). The language of the protests is action itself; the messages scrawled on cardboard, waved in the air before the monolithic facades of our stock exchanges, represent the anxiety and nervousness Foucault described. Police reaction to these may be characterized by Chomsky’s words above; the result of his actions protesting the war in Vietnam. If non-violent protest in the spirit of Ghandi and Dr. King is an act of human expression and creativity—a high form of art—the repression of this expression may be rendered highly unethical—especially if unwarranted physical force is applied.

            Berube hints at the nation’s schism of wealth in his essay “Idolatries of the Marketplace: Thomas Frank, Cultural Studies, and the Voice of the People,” a review of Frank’s work One Market under God. Extending Frank’s dour vision, Berube’s characterizations remain too true: “corporate America has managed to define itself precisely against what most people think of as corporate America, and the terrain of cultural criticism has been transformed accordingly” (p. 143). While Berube’s cultural characterizations that follow may appear dated, his point is made immediately relevant: corporate sponsorship of network television and media outlets have all but eliminated messages that threaten the fiscal and oligarchical extreme that appears to have taken control. If Chomsky’s limited and socially-conditioned “character defects” exist, we may be beholden to them, and our corresponding deficiencies in how we are able to communicate. Berube’s point is salient: the humanities need to pay better attention to, and deliver better scrutiny of, how corporations choose to characterize themselves in the public sphere.

           
Berube, Michael.Rhetorical Occasions: Essays on Humans and the Humanities. U of North Carolina P, 2006.

Chomsky, Noam, and Michel Foucault. The Chomsky-Foucault Debate on Human Nature. New York & London: The New Press, 2006. 

 
 

Nicolas Maxwell's Wisdom-Inquiry and Education


[This essay was produced in conjunction with Dr. Diane Allerdyce's Research Methods II course; Union Institute and University, Fall 2011].
 
Nicholas Maxwell’s discussion of the intentions and purpose of scholarly inquiry are becoming increasingly salient during this freshly academic century. As the economic and social position and power of many groups becomes revised with each day’s set of headlines, and a heightened rhetoric regarding national stability pervades our media outlets, new definitions of rationality in academic research become critical. In twenty-first century scholarship, Maxwell calls for a new Enlightenment, specifically in higher education—that educators and scholars might seek to more fully employ reason in new and humanistic methods in their research and teaching. Maxwell’s critique of the scientific method and its rationality necessitates an alternative hierarchy of knowledge. As the construction of knowledge in higher education may, as characterized by Maxwell ‘suffers’ from “not too much reason, but not enough” (p. 5), a brief survey of selected educators’ methods provide illustration of Maxwell’s thesis, and examples of aim-oriented inquiry, following a discussion of terms essential to an understanding of Maxwell’s critique.

A More Just Pedagogy: Application of Knowledge-Wisdom in the Classroom

Defining education as the broad experience of an individual that invites or invokes the learner to acquire new knowledge that may or may not be applied, much of Maxwell’s discussion becomes salient to professionals beyond the realm of formal and scholarly academia. To what extent do free, public K-12 education systems uphold the pursuit of “the growth of knowledge and technical know-how” (p. 5) over the development of responsible, ethical, and productive citizens? What core ethical beliefs lie beneath mountains of technical data purported to be ‘essential’ in so many vocational and technical pedagogies? Do institutions of higher education follow pedagogical statements of purpose, established by elementary and secondary education, only to compound learners’ knowledge acquired through earlier endeavors? Some parents choose to provide early and elementary-level education for their children within the home, or subscribe to alternative pedagogical approaches—from Montessori to private religious institutions—making Maxwell’s critique and call for empathy in humanities-based research and education all the more relevant and presently useful.

Maxwell identifies Assessing scholars’ ability to work in synergy with social progress, and sees the Enlightenment as having failed at such synergy. If formal academic scholarship is to benefit from true inquiry into the humanities—and thus more fully benefit all of humanity—Maxwell proposes four criteria for true rationality, fully separate from the scientific method, to forward the identification of knowledge-inquiry.  

            1. “articulate and seek to improve the articulation of the basic problem(s) to be solved”

            2. brainstorm and “critically assess” any and all solutions to the identified problem

            3. “When necessary, break up the basic problem to be solved into a number of preliminary, simpler, analogous, subordinate, more specialized problems”

4. “Inter-connect attempts to solve the basic problem and specialized problems” (p. 4).     

This procedure centers inquiry on an individual’s ability to create and apply solutions—not to test strategic hypotheses or assert and support propositions. Education may focus too greatly on what Maxwell identifies as a rudimentary “knowledge-inquiry” (p. 5), at the risk of neglecting direct application of such knowledge. Citing Einstein’s distinct categories of knowledge, Maxwell calls for academia’s refreshed embrace and new application of the humanities: "Knowledge exists in two forms - lifeless, stored in books, and alive in the consciousness of men.  The second form of existence is after all the essential one; the first, indispensable as it may be, occupies only an inferior position” (Einstein, as cited by Maxwell, p. 19). While Einstein viewed the application of knowledge as essential, Maxwell establishes wisdom as the useful and productive application of knowledge—how what we know encourages and changes the way we live. It is a true revolution within scholarship that Maxwell calls for: that the success for failure of academia may come not even in the generated knowledge’s application, but a success that comes through the researcher’s earnest and virtuous intentions.

My Site of Earliest Inquiry: Green Ridge Elementary

Green Ridge Elementary, located in Aston, Pennsylvania, may have existed in both places of inquiry Einstein named: from the “inferior position” of unapplied knowledge to the “essential one,” a place where new understanding leads one to applications and solutions.  Green Ridge existed in a school system that was formed during a period of rapid economic growth. The oldest section of Green Ridge was built in the 1920s, on a hill known to be a Lenni Lenape (native population) burial ground. This section of the school had high ceilings and cracking plaster walls, two massive steel front doors that were not used, covered by two overgrown pines. Originally Green Ridge served the children of those who worked in the nearby Delaware River industries: shipbuilding and oil refining, later Boeing and chemical factories. After World War II, as returning soldiers settled in the Philadelphia suburbs, the population of Delaware County exploded, and subsequently, the school district became more formalized; Green Ridge literally doubled in size. Twice as large as the old wing, a 1954 addition held K-5 classrooms, a multi-purpose gymnasium/auditorium/cafeteria, and administrative offices. While the plaster walls of the old wing were painted a stale, light green color, the 1954 expansion was made of a different pale-green, polished cinder block, stretching down long, carpeted hallways. Each classroom had a massive slate chalkboard, deteriorating aluminum frame windows, and a strange, splinter-dispensing wallboard that was supposed to absorb sound—not to mention asbestos padding beneath the carpets, carbon monoxide being emitted from the heating system, and lead in the drinking water. The week I graduated from high school, Green Ridge was demolished, having quickly outlived its life as a viable, affordable school.

Risking overgeneralization, many of my teachers at Green Ridge were of a similar age: from their mid-thirties to their late fifties; it is likely they have all retired from their profession. I entered first grade in 1986, long after Maxwell’s initial critique of the scientific method and the dissemination of his theories on knowledge and wisdom. While I might never know what pedagogical foundations were at work in specific classrooms at Green Ridge Elementary, a brief survey of some educators’ methods may provide hints of teachable wisdom, if not a useful application of knowledge, or simply an innovative pedagogical stance.

Ms. Hanson was my first grade teacher: a tall, imposing woman whose techniques of student discipline were effective perhaps because of her physicality, especially in the eyes of us first-graders. I remember a few field trips in kindergarten and first grade, though none as vividly as the overnight trip to Ms. Hanson’s house. In a practice that may today appear highly personal and excessive, Ms. Hanson spoke directly with each student’s parents, securing permission for her entire class, two at a time over a series of weeks, to stay overnight at her house. We ate at Pizza Hut before sleeping in the spare bedrooms in her townhouse in nearby Media; I remember little that was remarkable about the visit, except that it happened. I referenced Ms. Hanson, and her overnight field trips recently, as a friend and co-worker and I were spotted in town by a group of students, who stood slack-jawed, surprised even at the post-secondary level, to see teachers outside the classroom. While this discussion may reel in the modern legal and social implications of an elementary school teacher taking her entire class, if possible, out for pizza and to stay over at her house, we first-graders realized even then that Ms. Hanson had a goal of “teacher” demystification in mind: that if knowledge may someday turn to wisdom in her students, that a general and honest humanity was essential. Whatever “new kind of academic inquiry that gives intellectual priority to promoting the growth of global wisdom” (Maxwell, p. 4), Ms. Hanson’s experiential pedagogy—one that involved students’ taking part in her own daily rituals and inquiry—may have established a challenging intersection of personal and professional experiences.

Aim-Oriented Empiricism and the Ubiquitous School Science Project

I called a friend a month ago, to tell him how lucky we were, to have obtained the education that we did, when we did. In third through fifth grade, some students in Penn-Delco School District were determined through standardized testing to be eligible for a “gifted” program: a distinction that we, even as third graders, knew sounded snobby. Participating students were bused in from the other three elementary schools to a central classroom at Green Ridge, where, under the direction of Mrs. Hansell and Mrs. Joyce, we progressed through units of science, art, and history. I believe now many interesting pedagogies were at work in this specific classroom, as a great deal of the material we covered held in its focus both creative and social, experiential development—one culminating project was a mock checkbook, savings account, employment, and economy running for weeks within the classroom.

In the spring of fifth grade, those of us in the “gifted” program were asked to identify a problem and find a solution, and make accompanying visual materials to present to the class—a ‘science fair’ of sorts, but one built of problem-solving alone. The educational aim matched well with Maxwell’s call for a rational wisdom that “is devoted, in a genuinely rational way, to promoting human welfare by intellectual means” (p. 9). My entry into this missed the mark, leaping quickly to how to light a light bulb using a battery, without determining an exact application. I was already fostering a fascination with circuitry, and found artistry in using different switches to light different lights, or segments of a numeric display, or to create different flickering patterns using gates. Mrs. Hansell and Mrs. Joyce didn’t allow me to use the prefabricated projects found in my beloved Radio Shack kits, but insisted I establish something on my own. There were no grades assigned, but everyone got a ‘medal,’ inscribed in Sharpie marker. Mine read “Best Application of Knowledge Learned,” a phrase that appears now to be ironic—I have never actually used a battery to light a bulb in that manner since—but have benefited from the application of that knowledge elsewhere. At the time, I felt my medal equated to a mediocre grade. 

            Two years later, in a general science classroom, I became further enlivened and challenged as part of a second science fair, the aim of which I recall to be even more clearly congruent with Maxwell’s calls for “wisdom-inquiry,” where “the basic aim of inquiry is to help us realize what is of value, “realize” meaning both to apprehend, and to make real” (p. 19). Mr. Dargay’s charge for our projects was again to solve a problem, to make a solution more clear through our ‘apprehension’ of knowledge, changing the way we might live our lives. Mr. Dargay encouraged me when I expressed an interest in writing a computer program that would convert metric measurements to English measurements. Though I found this project far more daunting than I imagined (I was using a computer that was already antique, a Texas Instruments 99/4a, and writing in the archaic programming language Basic), Mr. Dargay was supportive and positive. He acknowledged my understanding of how technology might be used, and that the program’s ultimate ability—to perform calculations faster than one may by hand—was not diminished by the age of the technology employed. Mr. Dargay’s motivation in the classroom was remarkable; I believe he was cognizant of the vast wave of technology that we would be witness to, and that he viewed his classroom as one of the best vehicles to allow us—seventh graders, in 1992—the best access to that technology. Because he made clear to us the importance, and the practical and human relevance of the study of science, Mr. Dargay’s science fair reinforced distinct ethics of academic inquiry: that work in a classroom may blur with work outside any formal education, and that “academic inquiry has, as its fundamental aim, to help promote human welfare, then the problems that academic inquiry fundamentally ought to try to help solve our problems of living, problems of action” (p. 6).

            These early experiences in education continue to inform my professional and personal inquiry: prior to encountering Maxwell’s “Revolution for Science and Humanities,” I had sought—without exact pedagogical cause—to challenge students through posing ‘projects’ and the compilation of portfolios of generated knowledge. Students enrolled in my classes at Vermont Technical College seek careers in the sciences; the scientific method riddles their academic inquiry across all other courses. Taking Ms. Hanson’s first-hand experience for her students in her home as a workable metaphor for the time my students and I share, I seek to engage students in conversation based on their own and most-salient wisdom at the moment; as beings in transition, college students often represent Maxwell’s cultural characterization of inquiry: “a collection of intellectual spectacles, telescopes and microscopes, manufactured for us to use in order to aid our exploration of our world” (p. 19). This nature of collection—of humans, individuals, and stories—thread my language arts pedagogy with a focus on those alive and willing, in the classroom and in the world, aware.

Works Cited

Maxwell, N. (2007). From Knowledge to Wisdom: A Revolution for Science and the Humanities. 2nd Ed. Retrieved from http://www.nick-maxwell.demon.co.uk/essays.htm#abstract