As 2009 winds down, here’s the tale of someone who had a really lousy year thirty years ago, but in the process found motivation to turn things around.

In 1978, William Least Heat-Moon lost his teaching job at the University of Missouri and was left by his first wife. At a loss for what to do next, he packed up an old van that he christened Ghost Dancing, and set off across the country. He had no particular destination, but stuck to the smaller state roads in his Rand-McNally Atlas, the blue highways of his title.

The resulting book, published in 1982, is a classic of American travel writing, and holds up well almost thirty years later. Least Heat-Moon bypasses the typical tourist sites in favor of tiny towns with funny names like Dime Box, Remote, and Whynot. Given the author’s name and his motives, I expected some kind of mystical spiritual quest with a heavy emphasis on his Native American ancestry. What I got is something even better.

While this is a philosophical work, a voyage within as much as it is a voyage without, and while it certainly touches on what it is to be a native American, an African-American, or part of other minority communities, the bulk of Blue Highways is about enjoying the variety of the American landscape and asking simple, friendly questions to simple, friendly people. In doing so, Least Heat-Moon finds himself, and captures a variety of small American places, some disappearing, some thriving.

Just as Least Heat-Moon wouldn’t take short cuts or speedy routes, the reader of this book should not expect to rush. Although I enjoyed it thoroughly, Blue Highways took me several weeks to read. It meanders. It pauses. It indulges complications and interruptions. Don’t fight against that pace: read this book at your leisure or you’ll miss the point entirely.

As he journeyed, Least Heat-Moon circumnavigated the edge of the entire country and found a new way of life that has served him ever since. If you enjoy this book, go on to PrairyErth, in which he explores America’s prairie interior; River-Horse, in which he takes rivers and canals across the country; or Roads to Quoz, his most recent work, in which he continues to mosey around America. Any of them will help you see our country in a way we seldom see it anymore.

Check the WRL catalog for Blue Highways

There’s a moment for chasing mice and climbing trees, being connected and multitask here and there. But now it’s time for being lavishly lazy and mysteriously elusive, purring along the winter’s icy winds. Off-line time. (it’s good for our fur).

See you in early January…

Purr: courtesy of Tinky @ Kessels.nl

Foto: Volker Wartmann

Polaroids of the Schoeneberg gasometer…who knows why these lonely objects, gasometers, look like they need a bit of affection? It’s the same with the Ostiense ones in Rome and the one in Sant’Andrea, Triest…

For decades R. Crumb has been a major presence in the world of comics, but there’s a good chance you’ve never read his material. Unless you’ve caught his frequent contributions to The New Yorker, you may have never encountered Crumb, even if you’re an avid fan of comics and graphic novels. This is because R. Crumb is very, very alternative. Mainstream publications are not well-suited to Crumb’s radical ideas, stories, and humor — and mainstream publications are definitely not the place for Crumb’s depictions of sex and sexuality.

So what happens when a subversive underground comics artist interprets one of the most venerated religious texts in the history of the world? As one would expect, the result is provocative and edgy and intense. But it is also reverent and tasteful, both thoughtful and thought-provoking. Put it this way: I will be giving a copy to my church-going mother for Christmas. (Mom, if you’re reading this, please act surprised on Christmas morning.)

To be sure, Crumb’s interpretation will not please everybody. His depictions of women will offend some readers: these are some very curvy ancient Hebrew women, with busts and hips drawn in their full glory, oftentimes naked. Naked men show up, too — but this is in keeping with the sacred text, after all. There are some raunchy scenes in the Book of Genesis, even when rendered in the traditional King James language. (It is a slightly-modified version of the King James text that Crumb uses throughout his book.)

Avoid this if you do not want to see graphic depictions of sex and violence; that said, I think a lot of readers will enjoy the book. If you’ve never read Genesis, you’re missing out on some of the most colorful stories in the Bible– the creation of the world, the Eden story with Adam and Eve and the snake, the flood with Noah and his ark, the razing of Sodom and Gomorrah. If you’re familiar with Genesis, you’ll find that Crumb’s artwork brings a fresh new interpretation. Even the family tree bits (somebody begot somebody else begot somebody else begot somebody else, etc.) are kind of neat, because Crumb draws interesting little pictures along the way, while the juicy bits — the betrayals, the murders, the political intrigues, the famines — are rendered with Crumb’s enthralling artistic images.

Check the WRL catalog for The Book of Genesis

Another interesting article by Markus Albers for Monocolumn on Berlin’s power of attraction on things techno is the right trigger for the final wrap-up report on the recent Techno Luxury Conference held in Berlin in November by Herald Tribune & The New York Times.

There’s a lot of talk about tablets and new interfaces, different on one side from the PC/Mac and from the mobile/smart phone on the other one. And during the conference the guys from the NYT Lab were in Berlin to show how the intermediate format can offer a different set of content, both in terms of text and images/video. Basically, another type of user experience. Today even Repubblica has an extensive article on the topic. Strange…in a country not used to buy books by the dozen, I would be surprised to see a success of e-books on a tablet. But gadgets are different animals from books.

Mayor Wowereit was a speaker at the conference (“Berlin Powerhouse”) and one sentence, in a nutshell, delivered his articulated message : “Berlin offers opportunities, but you really need to be prepared, be motivated, be disciplined in order to succeed“. Forums are full of people wanting to move to Berlin, but not all of them are planning it carefully, as if they would do when moving to Zurich or Stockholm. In the same forums in fact one can find dozens of posts on the thread “Berlin – graveyard of ambitions”. A cheap rent can be useful when starting up a new life or a new business, but hey, you need to turn a living and a profit nonetheless. You need a business plan.

I’m reading Richard Florida’s “Who’s your city?” and definitely this rings a bell with Markus Albers’s article. If creative people tend to converge and cluster in some specific location, the probability of co-operation, co-creation and collaboration increases. So being in the right place at the right time is more and more part of the planning.

Not surprisingly it’s in Berlin where some Location-Based social networks and platforms such as SoundCloud developed. But the people factor is crucial. No matter how easy it is to surf the net, it is thanks to a post from a friend that I discovered SoundCloud – word of mouth can travel differently from the past but it’s a human reflex after all!

Does this mean that energies or ideas are drained from somewhere else? It depends. Some ideas would have never seen the light in a different city. Others could have blossomed anywhere with the right encouragement, so cities not fostering research and innovation will definitively suffer from the downside of their decision. Or lack of decision. Today Sarkozy unveiled that the majority of the Grand Emprunt National will finance research and the university. I haven’t heard anything remotely similar from the Italian government.

Back to the Techno Luxury, at the meta-level I asked myself why this conference was organized in Berlin. My feeling is that the competitive logistics in town was not a fundamental reason. After all the conference was hosted by the Ritz Carlton on Potsdamer Platz, so the organisers where not after cheap accomodation for thousands of delegates but maintained the boutique-format, high-quality and über-luxury approach of your typical luxury conference. So why in Berlin and not in the usual George V in Paris or in the Tokyo glitzy towers in Marounuchi or Midtown? Or in the Emerged luxury hubs in China, who hosted the previous editions?

The city must definitely have been chosen for delivering a message. A message of change, of transition to a new paradigm. On the one hand, forget the usual Milan and Paris sancta-sanctorum: it is Luxury, yet it must become Techno. On the other hand, Palo Alto or Cupertino or Espoo are probably too remote (too techno?) for your typical luxury brand to travel to, at least from a mindset point of view.

Hence Berlin. It’s Old Europe, but probably the least static, institutional part of it. As the beautiful Lipperheide exhibition at the Ritz Carlton showed, Berlin after all IS a Belle du Bois Dormant when it comes to fashion. Here the department stores were born: on Potsdamer Platz. Here the window shopping gurus started to practice, with special curved glass and daring shop front architectures. Here great couturiers competed with the Parisians, and fashion photography was born because it stemmed, back then, from a very local craftmanship. So I suspect that behind the Techno part, there is also the attempt by the city to retrieve and revive its fashion commercial (not only creative) DNA.

Back to Richard Florida, there is an interesting graph in the book. Berlin is one of the top cities when it comes to patents. Tokyo is low in the league table for the patent creation, but ranks high in patent “exploitation”. So creativity, innovation are fundamental but not enough.

This leads to a comment by one of the well-informed persons after the Conference. “In fashion, the creativity is in Berlin but the money is made in Düsseldorf”. I read similar comments also as far as contemporary art is concerned. I guess the challenge for Berlin is to be able to boucler la boucle, keeping the positive financial fall-out in town and not being confined to becoming a low-cost creative factory, be it on the multimedia, fashion or art scene.

“You can discover more about a person in an hour of play than in one year of conversation”- Plato-

“Play is the beginning of knowledge” George Doresy

Play and experience of nature is important as a child, Our experience and memory, defined by our senses are the foundation of our knowledge.   Through play, the child is able to link her/his physical surroundings and culture creating a sense of belonging to place. Children gain more knowledge and understanding of their surrounding environment through activities such as climbing trees, running and walking on uneven ground, through long grass and trees. This brings many benefits;  improved coordination, risk-taking skills and immune system. The experience of nature as a child is likely to lead to interests in environment and enter careers as an adult.  

Forest Kindergartens and Steiner schools are unique learning situations that cater and create environments that foster children’s love for their environment.  Forest Kindergartens referred to as ‘Waldkindergarten’ are found Germany, Sweden and Denmark, there is no building in these schools, the forest itself is the school base and whatever the weather, the children learn in the outdoors.  In Norway, Netherlands and Italy the government have initiated ’Greencare Farms’- where the kids learn on farms to keep children connected to land based activities and food production, sharing accumulated farming knowledge.  

All these Learning initiatives are a great way to share accumulated knowledge. To be able to identify, name living and physical  things- such as identifying the type of birds, rocks, geological formation.  Have knowledge of their function and use and context increases their overall understanding of place. Once a child is able to name things- the child sees it as a friends, it has its own personality, they beginin to establish a relationship with the place or thing.

The concept of the Forest Kindergarten is building momentum in the USA to encourage this ‘ecological literacy’.

In New Zealand we could embrace this an add our own kiwi flavour, appropriate to our culture- using mihi and understanding the history of our land and people.

WE ‘ought’ to be providing these oportunites as our moral obligation 
So the questions we need to ask are: 

• Are schools in New Zealand fostering a love of the wild?
• How often do schools take children to learn or be in wild/natural environments? 

In New Zealand Cathy Catto, is aiming to incorporate some of this theory into her kindergarten, based in Auckland, the 4 year olds have weekly excursions into One Tree Hill. Click here to listen to children’s imaginations run wild on their excursions to One Tree Hill, Auckland, NZ.

Further reading:

Nabhan, G. P, Trimble, S (1994) The Geography of Childhood.

Every time I have the opportunity to take a trip – big, small, exotic, mundane, work-related, totally frivolous, near, far – I am grateful. I am grateful for the opportunity, the variety and the inherent surprises that come even when you think for sure they will not. And I am grateful for the chance to share my experiences with others. Whether or not they are grateful is something that apparently very few travelers actually consider, but I would like to consider it.

Since I have been living in Asia and traveling in Asia I have found, in sharing my experiences, I rely heavily on words like myriad and juxtaposition. But these words do so little to actually communicate what I mean. Or at least they seem ineffective in comparison to what I see around me. How can I really demonstrate what I mean when I say there are myriad subtleties in the art of multilingual (or non-lingual) communication in Asia, or that Asia is replete with the most incongruously wonderful juxtapositions I have ever seen? Just saying it seems limited.

And why would it matter? Because, of course, with traveling comes the requisite sharing of said experiences, either with other travelers, or maybe with those who would, but can’t and those who could, but don’t. Ihave a great audience in my classroom for sharing, though I was reluctant to share my trips with my students in the US at first, a result of scars from having to endure my own Freshman English teacher’s every vacation to Hawaii (Mark Reischling I know you loved it, but us? Not so much.) Eventually I did begin to share and whether or not it had the Reischling effect on the kids, it totally changed how I traveled. I began to look around the world in a wholly new way; trying to see everything through the eyes of my students gave my trips a completely new focus. I brought back Vegemite and didgeridoos and boomerangs from Australia and let my students try all of them when we studied the region in Geography. I shared my photo essay of the street people and permanent protesters from D.C. when we covered Civil Rights and Liberties in Government class. I brought in albums from Italy when we studied the Renaissance in World History and the photos for my graduate thesis on Area 51 when we covered the Cold War in US History. Photos of the Ancient Agora and the Theater of Dionysus were passed around when we covered mythology and Ancient Greece. From Russia to Alaska to the Baltic States to Mexico and Jamaica – I wondered: What would my students find interesting, or surprising or bizarre… what might shock them? How could I impart what it was like to be in all these places… How could I create the sense of place in a way that they could relate to and provide context for what they were studying?

I read somewhere recently that the abundance of travel writing was getting simply ridiculous. Something to the effect that people live under the misconception that everyone wants to read about their every trial and tribulation on the road and that somehow a well-inked passport makes one the next great… well, you know, travel writer.  And I had to admit, it is kind of true. There are more travel blogs out there everyday, and in some ways, this might kind of be one. I do not read many of the travel blogs that profess to be the “key” to any sort of wisdom, and I love the idea that something one reads on the internet could in any way be “off the beaten track…” [Sorry Lonely Planet, I still love you and I turn to you often, but yo, you are way mainstream.]

Still, I have a certain love for travel literature.

I think my love for the genre has more to do with my innate nosiness. And my geographic inclinations. I like to read about the experiences that people have and see if I can relate/imagine/comprehend/covet/sigh-with-relief over their experiences. And I love to contemplate the complete sense of a place. My favorite travel authors include Hunter S. Thompson, John Steinbeck, Wendy Dale, Elizabeth Gilbert, selected works of Bill Bryson and one particular book by Michael Crichton.

Didn’t think those were all “travel writers”? HST’s Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas and Fear and Loathing on the Campaign Trail, ‘72 are two of the most effective pieces of literature to capture to flavor of a region and a nation, respectively, ever written. Thompson was completely aware of the significance of creating a sense of place in his writing in order to offer a unique context that would contribute to the story in a way that dialog or description never could. John Steinbeck’s Travels with Charley is brilliant in it’s ability to convey the vernacular geography of America and the attendant topophilia during the 1960s as he made his way around the country in his camper (named for Quixote’s horse, Rocinante) and his standard poodle, Charley. The themes in all three of these books are still completely relevant today – and totally worth reading if you have not.

Wendy Dale wrote a novel called Avoiding Prison and Other Noble Vacation Goals that I read while on a cruise in the Caribbean back in 2004, I think. Yes, I said cruise. And to that end I was with the least adventurous person I have ever known, bless his rigid cotton socks. That book saved me from myself on that trip and reminded me of my own adventures during a particular summer in Guadalajara. Most people are now familiar with Liz Gilbert, and those same people all seem to have very clear opinions on her work, specifically Eat, Pray, Love. I adored this book and found that, in many ways, Gilbert shared parts of the travel experience that others have overlooked, though I am sure that I fall into her target demographic so maybe that is why I liked it so much. I find Bill Bryson a bit much on times, I could not get through his book on Australia – while I was planning and traveling through Australia – but I love, love, loved The Lost Continent: Travels in Small Town America, detailing a 14,000 mile trip around the US in the late 1980s. Again, for the reasons that I have found particular travel literature so alluring, I like this book because it points out the little things that might go unnoticed, but make all of the difference. No one misses the Statue of Liberty or the Grand Canyon, but there is so much in between that really gives those experiences meaning…

So, when I write about share my travel experiences it is in a constant effort to impart the unseen, to share the texture and feel of the place through the less obvious experiences: it is the intention of communicating the sense of the place. ‘Sense of place’ has been defined a million ways. If you look to Wiki you get this as an introduction:

To some, it is a characteristic that some geographic places have and some do not, while to others it is a feeling or perception held by people (not by the place itself). It is often used in relation to those characteristics that make a place special or unique, as well as to those that foster a sense of authentic human attachment and belonging.

As a teacher of Geography I have told my students it is the attempt to share the total experience of being in a place with someone who has not been there: what does it look like, smell like, sound like, feel like, even taste like… As a student of Geography I have been fascinated not only by the inherent nature of the sense of places, but also in placelessness and the love of places – topophilia. [Check out Yi-Fu Tuan.]

I have just returned from a long weekend in Saigon. If put to the task of ably communicating the sense of place in Saigon, could I? I could tell you that the texture of Saigon is tangible in every sensory way. I could tell you that the auditory experience of Saigon is immeasurable on any sort of scale I could describe. I could tell you that the juxtaposition of people, places and things cannot be enumerated. Would that be enough? I could tell you that I am constantly struck by the reality that such a great percentage of the world falls into a category easily labeled as “poor,” but they seem to take it all in stride so much more readily than I coped with my four hour delay. Would any of that give you a real sense of Saigon? If I tried to express the “emotional connections between physical environment and human beings” (Tuan’s definition of topophilia) would it be my own or those I had observed? Could I share the way that I see people around the world do the most ingenious things with what is on offer from their surroundings or is that suddenly my own emotional agenda?

More to the point, would it matter? And further… who am I to take up this endeavor?

I suppose the answers to those questions are what will indicate my status as a “Travel Writer.”

FYI: Some other notable books I consider to be brilliantly fantastic travel literature include: The Motorcycle Diaries, The Rabbit Proof Fence, Shutterbabe, and Long Way Round [I mean, Ewan McGregor in leather...?]

No Depression dusted off this 2003 article today.  There’s a pretty good history of  Stax Records in the article, as well as descriptions of some of the best spots in town.  What I really admire though, is the author’s attempt at writing about Memphis as a social phenomenon, or the city’s ”sense of place.”  Many people struggle to capture the character of places with strong identities.  Often such courageous attempts are met with criticism or complete rejection.  Trying to get at the meaning of a place is irresistible, though, perhaps because the real meaning of a place comes from our collective perception, and not anyone’s individual idea.  

Anyway, it’s a good article:
http://archives.nodepression.com/2003/07/memphis-in-the-meantime/

A statue from the Centrale Montemartini is the logo of tonight’s music performances in several museums in Rome and Latium …one concert will be broadcast online. If you want to know more about Centrale Montemartini, check Venus, Apollon and Diesel.

(right…in the end we opted for the walking-distance venues and kicked off with Flamenco at the Acquedotto Romano, now Casa dell’Architettura. We followed then with the Classic Music Orchestra MuSa, playing in the Terme di Diocleziano Prokoviev, Shostakovich, and…Yann Thiersen’s “Goodbye Lenin” theme. The musicians composing MuSa are all students, professors, researchers and employee of the state university La Sapienza…toll!)

As part of my over-the-break reading, I have been catching up on posts, so I have just discovered that Erinn Batykefer is blogging over at the Ren Hen Press blog.   Batykefer’s book, Allegheny, Monongahela was published this past spring, and because I believe that all Pennsylvania poets (she is from Pittsburgh) should somehow stick together (a post for another day — my belief has something to do with the fact that Pennsylvania retains its residents, but these residents also tend to have identity issues), I purchased her book right away.  And of course, I loved it.  Hilda Raz calls this collection “a series of invocations to memory — of the divided self in the body of another, the blood residue after loss.”  For me, Allegheny, Monogahela is a book about a poet wrestling with violence — but physical violence that leaves the scars we can see, and the emotional violence that leaves wounds we can’t.  One of my favorite poems, “Allegheny Love Letter”  has the river speaking directly: “You know this, as you must know that in me/eyeless, limivorous fish dig food from the muck/among rotting suicides, that every flood//has me spilling sewage and gore over my banks./And still, there you are among sycamores or waving/from bridges.”  Rivers play a big role in my own poetry — and when I reread this poem, I smiled because one of my students just wrote a poem about the Allegheny River in his life — except that he lives in the state of New York, so his writing was coming from the northern end of the river.

The most recent post has to do with creative writing pedagogy and the use of the persona poem.  My students love persona poems.  Love them.  However, I have found that some of the topics are a bit out of my personal understanding.  (I am just not that hip — I guess).  What I mean is that I don’t get all the pop culture references — Batykefer, on her post, mentions the use of figures from the Twilight series — and I have to say that while every year, I get some poetry about vampires, I have never read so many poems that focus on vampires, werewolves and aliens.  Sometimes, I want to throw my hands up in the air and simply outlaw poems about pop culture (I do outlaw a few things — sunsets, butterflies, and pretty flowers, for example).  But I don’t really want to do that — especially when so many poets do a wonderful job using images and icons from pop culture.  Batykefer’s post suggests that we shouldn’t outlaw those images — but consider about how to use these images well.  I know that she is right, and as a creative writing professor, I have to think about how to teach my students new and better ways of using those figures from pop culture (yes, including the characters from Twilight).  Her own personal example (yes — she wrote a poem inspired from the Twilight series) was insightful.

Now, I suppose I have to go back and rethink my rule about those sunsets, butterflies and pretty flowers.

I think I’m nesting, but not in the usual way. While I am anticipating the arrival of a long-awaited creation, it’s of the couch variety, not the babe. I’ve been all a flutter moving things from here to there, rearranging, and repurposing. It’s great fun, but experience has taught me that the path to organization is rarely linear. My “cleaning” involves a lot of collateral mess. My husband has learned to accept this little eccentricity and now only on occasion, having surveyed my progress, raises an eyebrow when I shout over a pile (that was previously clear floor space) that, “I’m cleaning!”

This week lent itself to taking a long, hard look at our parenting obstacles. The biggest challenge to address, we felt, was that darned TV and DVD player. Yes, I know I said I was going to remove it again, but I didn’t. I came up with the idea for “Film Festival Friday” and thought we could manage the distraction the rest of the week. I think we could have, expect that Swine Flu hit and movies became management tool numero uno. And then came the spiral. I’ll post more on the whole TV debacle when I get the chance.

So, if you don’t have a television set, you have little use for an entertainment armoire. Poof. Gone. Repurpose. Let the organization begin. And we did.

The armoire is now my new craft center in the office. My old craft center, a dumpster diving rescue piece, became my new storage room shelves. I needed shelves, because the bookcases I shoved in my storage closet when we moved into the house several years ago, just relocated to my living room to flank my fireplace (which, by the way, I was only able to do now that the armoire had a new home). From there I moved paintings and collected treasures around until it felt good enough for now.

Prior to all this rearranging, I had been drooling over a set of IKEA bookcases. I wanted to live among our books. As it was, our collection was closed off and out of reach. The purchase of something new was out of the question, but it didn’t stop me from creating a design plan that included said bookcases. It’s a good thing I saved the money I never had to spend, because it turns out a better solution was right under my nose…er stuffed in my closet. My forgotten shelves, so long ago put inside the closet, are a pretty satisfactory substitute.

The repurposing of the bookcases set into motion all the moving and shaking I mentioned earlier. It always amazes me how simple solutions, to seemingly expensive “problems,” bubble up to the surface when I allow the time and space for it to happen. If unlimited resources were at my disposal, I wonder, would it impact my creativity? If I could snap my fingers and manufacture instant solutions would I ever risk immediate gratification for a gamble outside the box? I suppose one could argue that such luxuries might boost creativity, what with more time to devote to my craft and less spent worrying about making ends meet, the must-have nanny to entertain the children, Alice from The Brady Bunch to cook and clean and any other conveniences I deemed worthy of a few bucks. Would I have bothered to collect the mossy branches, victims of a recent wind storm? Had I not, I wouldn’t have the cool new arrangement to sit on top of those bookcases I was so anxious to move. I also wouldn’t have figured out where the chairs, which I have yet to purchase (yes, those are our camping chairs in the photo of the living room), would go when the much-anticipated couch finally arrives. I wonder if I’d still get all nesty and industrious?

I exaggerate not at all when I say that one choice leads to another, that the path to organization requires a few steps backward and that inspiration comes from the brush pile your husband would rather not see in the middle of the front lawn. And all this because of a couch? Yes, and to make a point. Anyone can organize or decorate on a shoestring. It’s quite likely you already have everything you need stuffed in a closet waiting to be repurposed.

Also,  I finally finish my cafe curtains and valance.

Research launched by English Heritage has found a significant link between an adult’s ‘sense of place’ and the concentration of historic environment assets within their area.

Sense of Place and Social Capital and the Historic Built Environment (pdf, 884kb), launched simultaneously with Heritage Counts 2009, involved surveys with 500 adults and 700 teenagers from across England.

Respondents were asked to score how strongly they agreed with a series of statements such as ‘I could be equally happy living elsewhere’ and ‘I am proud of where I live.’

The impact of living in and around historic assets was particularly strong in adults. Specifically, when all other factors were controlled, adults with a strong sense of place tended to live in areas with a high concentration of historic environment features.

Overall, three of a possible four variables relating to the historic environment were found to have a significant impact on sense of place in adults.

For the teenage group, results were more mixed, with two of a possible four historic environment variables having a significant impact on sense of place.

In parallel with the findings of the Sense of Place research, a recent survey with people that attended historic sites in the West Midlands as part of the Heritage Open Day initiative (published in the Heritage Counts 2009 West Midlands summary) found 94% of respondents felt their visit had made them appreciate their local area more. 92% felt their visit had made them feel more proud of their local area.

Given the evidence that now exists about the benefits of participation in the historic environment, the need to increase participation among under-represented groups is all the more pressing.

In the West Midlands, for example, despite evidence that visiting has increased among people from BME backgrounds in recent years, the percentage of BME adults that had participated in the historic environment (49%) lagged behind the national average (57%), according to the results of the 2007/08 Taking Part survey, published as part of Heritage Counts 2009.

Related links

• Sense of Place and Social Capital and the Historic Built Environment report (pdf, 884kb)
• Heritage Counts 2009 (West Midlands)
• Heritage Counts 2009 (national report)

Photo by Thrice 18/3

Route 66 is all mixed up in my mind with memories of a television series called “Route 66″, starring Martin Milner and George Maharis, a pop song by Nelson Riddle, and most recently, a roadtrip with friends through New Mexico and Arizona that touched on the route along the way.

I’m always attracted to books with a strong sense of place, so it was fun to discover the following booklist on Fiction-L about the route.  It was compiled several years ago, and I have a couple of additions to it.

Carol O’Connel’s ‘Find Me’ places a serial killer on Route 66; it was published in 2006 and is the 9th book in the Kathy Mallory series.

Under non-fiction, I’d like to add ‘The Complete Route 66 Lost & Found’ by Russell A. Olsen

The following was copied from a Fiction-L booklist:

Some had suggested authors & no specific titles; I included the areas in parenthesis for these.

FICTION

Anaya, Rudolfo (Southwest)
Bernhardt, William Criminal Intent, Silent Justice.
Bland, Eleanor T. (Chicago)
Booth, Pat Marry Me.
Brewer, Steve (Southwest)
Brown, Carrie The Hatbox Baby.
Churchill, Jill (Chicago)
Cisneros, Sandra (Chicago)
Connelly, Michael (Los Angeles)
Cobb, James West on 66.
Craven, Jerry Snake Mountain.
D’Amato, Barbara (Chicago)
Fiffer, Sharon S. Killer Stuff.
Foster, Sharon Passing by Samaria.
Garlock, Dorothy Hope’s Highway, Mother Road, Song of the Road.
Greeley, Andrew (Chicago)
Hellmann, Libby F. (Chicago)
Hillerman, Tony (Southwest)
Holton, Hugh (Chicago)
Hunter, Fred (Chicago)
Jones, Annie Cupid’s Corner, The Double Heart Diner, Last Romance Ranch.
Kahn, Michael (St. Louis)
Kaminsky, Stuart (Chicago)
Kerouac, Jack On the Road.
Ledbetter, Suzanne In Hot Pursuit.
McGarrity, Michael (Southwest)
Meredith, D. R. (Southwest)
Miles, Keith Saint’s Rest.
Mitchell, Kirk (Southwest)
Wheat Carolyn Murder on Route 66.
Paretsky, Sara (Chicago)
Phillips, Susan E. This Heart of Mine.
Sanders, William A Death on 66.
Shelton, Connie (Southwest)
Steinbeck, John The Grapes of Wrath.
Thompson, Jean Wide Blue Yonder.
Thurlo, Aimee (Southwest)
Van Gieson, Judith (Southwest)
Zubro, Mark Richard (Chicago)

NONFICTION

Clark, Marian Main Street America Cookbook, The Route 66 Cookbook.
Repp, Thomas A. Route 66.
Snyder, Tom Route 66 Traveler’s Guide & Roadside Companiion.
Wallis, Michael Route 66: The Mother Road. Way Down Yonder in the Indian Nation.

A celebration for the completion of brick-and-mortar works: that’s rare in Rome!

Tonight, at the new Museum for the Arts of the XXI century, Sasha Waltz and Guests celebrated Zaha Hadid’s first work with a site-specific performance…

We followed the tortured process leading to the MAXXI creation during our Sunday morning winter walks in Rome. The building site has been up for 10 years. At last it’s over. I quite like the result. In this area of Rome, on both sides of the river, too many barracks still eat up space and at last one of them is gone, and an urban area is now open and free for the citizens to enjoy it.

Effimero, dinamico, alieno Maxxi icona dell’arte che verra’

Laura Larcan – Repubblica

L’interno del Maxxi

ROMA - Il bianco latte è avvolgente. Le pareti corrono come onde dinamiche alternando la lattiginosa muratura al vetro più impercettibile, le scale sono corpi energetici che si arrampicano come flussi sanguigni di un organismo più extraterrestre che umano. I soffitti sono presenze effimere che compaiono e scompaiono come un gioco teatrale. Dall’esterno la sua possenza da astronave futuristica cattura subito lo sguardo, all’ingresso la maestosità accogliente dal patio che sembra un tutt’uno con la piazza antistante seduce con forza le aspettative.

Immagini – Video

Eccolo il Maxxi, il Museo delle arti del XXI secolo, capolavoro immaginifico dell’archistar anglo-irachena Zaha Hadid che con i suoi ventinovemila metri quadrati (superficie totale del lotto) si è finalmente rivelato all’occhio pubblico dopo dieci estenuanti anni di lavori e ben sei governi che si sono avvicendati, ogni volta con il rischio di un black out per le spese che continuavano a lievitare.

Una lunga gestazione, sostenuta con 150 milioni di euro, completata con gli ultimi 20, metà arrivati dal Ministero dei bei culturali e gli altri 10 dal Ministero delle Infrastrutture, i cui lavori sono stati eseguiti dalle imprese Italiana Costruzioni spa e Sac spa. Un’opera che nel quartiere Flaminio, a pochi metri dall’Auditorium di Renzo Piano, doveva necessariamente fare i conti con lo spazio precedente dell’area delle ex casermeadi via Montebello:

“L’impegno del progetto – dice Zaha Hadid, che è arrivata a Roma da vera star per la presentazione dei lavori – riguardava il luogo dove doveva sorgere l’edificio, un’area che all’origine era fortificata e quindi aveva bisogno di un’apertura degli spazi. La decisione presa ha puntato a non creare un semplice oggetto ma un campus con diversi livelli, dal forte effetto stratificato”.

E il senso di interconnessione domina in tutto la creatura, dove il tessuto di spazi esterni e interni si risolve in un effetto di intersezione gli uni con gli altri. La fluidità è il Dna del Maxxi, un gioco complesso di gallerie sinuose che si intrecciano sui vari livelli. “E’ una giornata importante per Roma – ha commentato il ministro Sandro Bondi alla cerimonia di presentazione del museo – dove nasce uno dei più importanti musei di arte contemporanea d’Italia e del mondo, a firma di Zaha Hadid, tra i nomi più prestigiosi dell’architettura internazionale. Come riuscirà a stare al passo dei grandi musei del mondo?

Grazie alla nuova Fondazione Maxxi, strumento strategico per valorizzare questo patrimonio, cui spero entrino a farne parte anche enti pubblici come il Comune di Roma. Ho già parlato col sindaco di Roma Gianni Alemanno che ha dato la sua disponibilità. Così come spero che ne entrino a far parte altri enti privati”.

Da parte del ministro Bondi, confermato l’impegno, durante il suo governo, a completare gli interventi per i restanti quattro lotti. E intanto sono confermati i fondi per aprire alla grande a maggio 2010 con l’allestimento della collezione permanente del museo, che vanta per la sezione arte oltre 350 opere, tra cui quelle di Boetti, Clemente, Kapoor, Kentridge, Merz, Penone, Pintaldi, Richter, Warhol, solo per citarne alcuni, per la sezione architettura 75 mila documenti. Con un percorso attraverso le collezioni delle due sezioni si aprirà “Spazio!” a cura di un gruppo interdisciplinare composto da Pippo Ciorra, Alessandro D’Onofrio, Bartolomeo Pietromarchi, Gabi Scardi e dai conservatori del Maxxi. A questa si aggiunge l’omaggio a Gino De Dominicis. 1947 – 1998, a cura di Achille Bonito Oliva, la prima antologica dedicata all’artista. Ancora, “Kutlug Ataman, Mesopotamian Dramaturgies”, a cura di Cristiana Perrella, “Luigi Moretti” a cura di Bruno Reiclin e Maristella Casciato, e “Geografie italiane”, installazione multimediale di Studio Azzurro.

Ma la danza sperimentale diventa il vero biglietto da visita per il Maxxi che, tra la conclusione dei lavori architettonici, e in attesa dell’allestimento delle collezioni permanenti, apre il 14 e 15 novembre con uno spettacolo singolare, l’installazione coreografica di Sasha Waltz “Dialoge 09″ realizzata in collaborazione col Romaeuropa Festival. In scena secondo una concezione innovativa della danza, la compagnia internazionale di 36 ballerini di Sasha Waltz, scortate dalla installazioni sonore di Hans Peter Kuhn. Una performance sui generis: “Il pubblico è attivo, in grado di scegliere da sè cosa vedere, è lasciato libero di circolare nello spazio del museo, e libero anche di non vedere lo spettacolo e di perlustrare il museo. Come in una mostra il pubblico può scegliere di relazionasi col ballerino come con un’opera d’arte e scegliere liberamente come guardarla. I ballerini saranno disseminati in tutto l’edificio ci saranno mille punti di vista per osservarli, ognuno potrà avere la sua personale prospettiva”.

Avverte Waltz: “La relazione con l’architettura di Zaha Hadid è una sfida difficile ma stimolante per la sua imponenza, per la forza delle linee e delle geometrie create, per questo ho cercato di riflettere nella coreografia la forma dell’architettura. Quello che mi piace del Maxxi è l’utilizzo della scala che interconnette tutti i livelli come fosse un dragone, un serpente o un sistema di circolazione umano che porta sangue a tutto l’organismo”. E alla fine dell’inaugurazione, Zaha Hadid avverte: “Attenzione, vi terrò d’occhio!Mi interessa vedere come verranno utilizzati questi gli spazi. Non voglio interferire o mettere bocca ma vorrei essere messa a parte di tutto, vorrei essere tenuta in considerazione”.

Notizie utili – MAXXI, Via Guido Reni 4°, Roma. Informazioni:

www.maxxi.beniculturali.it ,

Photos: Repubblica – my photos will follow next week! digital camera strike!

Because I have read Sara Tracey’s work before, I just knew that her chapbook, Flood Year (Dancing Girl Press), would be fantastic. And I wasn’t disappointed.  Flood Year is a dance between two cousins, a relationship described in the opening poem, “Two Wombs,” as two people close at birth: “We were so small, the nurses/kept us in one crib like twins.”  The poet goes on to explain that “Our mothers found us holding hands,/foreheads pressed together/as if telling secrets.”

And so the scene has been set.  Throughout this slim collection, Tracey explores the bond between the two cousins who are like sisters.  When the beloved Stella moves to Arizona at the age of five, we, as readers, watch the two cousins grow and change.  One cousin seems angry, the other bewildered.  One dyes her “hair blond/eyebrows too, used SPF 60 and wore/long sleeves all summer” while the other lets her boyfriend “trace her tan lines with his tongue.”  The poems seem to slide in and out of their relationship, so that we see the way that both girls grow, the way they both change.

But readers will be sadly mistaken if they believe that this is a work of female angst. Flood Year is also a careful study of place and how place affects us and inspires us.  We understand the poet’s world of Rust Belt Ohio where a person could chronicle a flood, where “ever night/the air was heavy with shit and people/who lived in the ravine were trapped/for three days” and we also see a world where someone could fall asleep in the grass and wake up damp from dew, not quite understanding “where water came from nothing.”  But we also understand the world of Stella, where an “agave farmer taught her to shoot tequila when she was fourteen” and the dirt is “made of bones.”

Sara Tracey has the gift of place.  She knows landscape and she knows people. In this first chapbook, we, as readers, find ourselves straddling different worlds, longing to learn more about the people we have met.  I have said before that 2009 is the year of the chapbook, and I believe that Flood Year is another book that should be added to everyone’s reading list.  As for me, I am now looking forward to Sara Tracey’s first full length of poetry.

Down amongst the grasses at Spring Creek Prairie.

I love living on the Great Plains.  I mean I really, really love it.  In fact, I love the Great Plains so much that I got a Master of Arts Degree in Great Plains Studies!  (It’s a unique, interdisciplinary program offered at the University of Nebraska – Lincoln, but I digress).  There’s just something about these wide open spaces that speaks to something very deep inside of me, and makes me feel connected to everyone who has lived on this land before — not only my ancestors, but the Natives who first called this land home.  My love of the region I’ve always had the blessing to call home makes it easy to think about my connection to my place, and how that has affected me.  But connection to place can be just as powerful, I believe, no matter where you live — whether that be in a city, in the mountains, at the beach, wherever.

I grew up on a farm, so it was fairly easy to make the connection between my life and the land — indeed, the very food we ate was a direct result of the land and all it can produce.  Now that I live in suburbia, I worry about the kind of connection to place, and to the land around us, that my kids will have.  I hope that my husband and I are able to do all we can to instill in our children a sense of “grounding” in their place.

One of the ways I re-grounded myself recently was to take part in a “late autumn walkabout” (don’t you just love that phrase?) at a local prairie preserve.  It was absolutely fabulous.  Our guide led the group of about 12 adults and children through mowed paths that wind their way throughout the hundreds of acres within the preserve, pointing out the major types of grasses that make up the tallgrass prairie, as well as native birds that dwell there.  As we were walking, the sun was setting.  As we made our way to one of the farthest points from the nature center building, a hush fell over our group and another sound emerged….a group of coyote pups barking up a storm.  It was absolutely amazing.  Our guide led us up and around a large loop throughout a portion of the prairie, encouraging us to wander off the path, take a look at things, feel the grass, look up at the stars, and breathe deep.  It was one of the most restorative nights I’d had in weeks.

Our visit was to Spring Creek Prairie Audubon Center near Denton, Nebraska.  It’s quite the place.  Take a look at the great clip:

Our “late autumn walkabout” ended with….what else?  Hot apple cider, a campfire, and S’mores.  What a perfect way to spend a Saturday evening in late autumn!

Now that I’ve got all of you wishing that you were so lucky as to live on the Great Plains of North America (right?!), it’s your turn to take a look around you and find ways to connect with the land that’s outside your own door.  And no, I’m not talking about your yard….what lies beyond the reaches of the local Interstate?  What’s going on outside of town?  How are the farmer’s doing with their harvest?  What do the trees look like?  Has the are gotten enough water recently?  Get online and find ways to connect with the land around you.  There are extension agencies and state/national parks in every state that may be a good place to start if you haven’t a clue.  Now go out and get a little dirty, take a few deep breaths, and notice how much bigger than you the natural world is.  It can provide fabulous perspective.

Spring Creek Prairie

Spring Creek Prairie

Sunset over Spring Creek Prairie

We’re just back from Berlin, after this fantastic long week-end dedicated to the fall of the wall. Our digital camera is in ER, so let’s hope that our reflex did a good job…photos in a few days, like in 1989!

The domino fall was fantastic, we were at Elizabeth Lueders Haus, opposite the Reichstagufer.

Actually, in the morning we were interviewed by RTL “What does Berlin mean for you?” “Were you here in 1989?”. Unfortunately not…that’s why we didn’t want to miss this 20th anniversary! In spite of an easyjet flight cancellation, wir waren dabei!!

The Washington DC Studies Conference this weekend drew several hundred people to wide ranging talks on stories of the nation’s capital.

The event took place in the city’s Charles Sumner School, one of the first public school buildings erected for the education of Washington’s black community.

Presenters ranged from professional historians and architects to long-time residents. Historian Kathryn Smith opened the conference with a discussion of the need to tell local and federal DC stories together. Histories about local people and activities empower residents and convince the citizens in other areas of the country and the world of the value of the place.

Social and community history capture the stories of people in their everyday lives and give us a rich and deep sense of place.

Conferees told of the Berry Farm community and the Underground Railroad little known places.

I learned about the prevalence of particular kinds of crimes in the 19th century and about plans of builders to establish communities with the style of houses they built near the city’s Soldiers Home in the 1910s.

An interesting angle for Berlin and former East Germany Länder, from Marcus Albers for Monocle.

Old Europe can survive and prosper only if it embraces innovation and new technologies (be it in media, automotive, energy…). We cannot pretend to leave something meaningful to the new generations by focusing only on small trading, the odd cottage industry.  Be it the fashion chasse gardée (which wont’t last any longer), our beloved old stones, food and wine, outdated technology sectors and the state bureaucracy.

Unfortunately Italy hasn’t understood this and continues to believe in petty, outdated, low quality trade. Selling overpriced pizza to tourists, selling “pronto moda”, and not investing in research will not keep the country afloat.

Some entrapreneurs understood that you need to to go the extra mile in the service industry, need to give more to the exigent customer while including stakeholders in your microclimate. Think about the ice-cream makers Grom. Or apple-cooperatives in Alto Adige.

But on a bigger scale innovation and research need to be fostered, and that is something that only to a certain extent clever Piedmontais ice-cream makers can do. It must be pushed by the government.

Maizière thinks this way. Not sure what Italian politicians think. They’re more interesting in their petty, big trade.

November 9, 2009 — Berlin
Writer: Markus Albers

Germany is still a divided country. But the division does not mark the borders of the former East and West Germany. It separates the people who are old enough to remember the two German nations and those who are too young to. Being born in 1969 in then West Germany, I belong to the former group. I recall vividly those TV pictures of army parades on Karl-Marx-Allee with German Democratic Republic (GDR) party officials in fur-coats watching on sternly. Today, living in former East Berlin, I now cycle along this boulevard. At that time East Germany, for us, was a foreign country. When our politicians spoke about the need for reunification it was a hollow phrase. No one believed it would ever happen.

But then, close to midnight on 9 November, 20 years ago today, brave East Germans got rid of their totalitarian regime – they breached the wall that had divided families, a city, a nation, the world. With their Trabis, tracksuits and perms, for us westerners, these people looked as if they just had stepped out of a time machine from the 1970s. They were as irritated by our swanky cars and condescending manners. We really had to get used to each other. Even today I find myself saying things like, “My street is in East Berlin” or, “The design looks so ‘ostig’”, meaning Eastern-style.

But now a new generation has grown up that doesn’t remember when the wall came down because they were too young or weren’t even born then. These people have never cared whether something was “East” or “West”. Even I can’t tell anymore which side of the divide new pop stars, chat show hosts or politicians are from. And the only ones walking along the street in my neighbourhood where the wall used to be, reading the information signs and entering the posh new visitors’ centre, seem to be Italian tourist groups. For a few days now Germans will talk about the reunification but in a few weeks most will stop thinking about it again. This is good news.

Politics are also beginning to acknowledge that it is time to move on. The new interior minister Thomas de Maizière – who is now in charge of the former new federal states – says the term “Aufbau Ost” (literally to build up the East) is out-dated. He calls for “innovation and smart growth – not only for the east of our country”. Economists say that measures such as “Solidarpakt” – that transfers money from west to east – or “Solidaritätszuschlag” – that collects extra taxes from all Germans to cope with the costs of reunification – will be redundant by 2020 at the latest.

Since 1989 €1.6trn has been sent from west to east Germany. East Berlin is quickly becoming the fancy part of town, with the Gendarmenmarkt, the renovated Neues Museum by David Chipperfield, and the impending rebuilding of the Stadtschloss palace. Eastern cities such as Dresden and Leipzig are now modern hubs of business and culture, boasting both restored old buildings and daring new architecture. Today it’s towns in west Germany that are beginning to look a bit shabby, with bumpy roads and run-down malls.

Germans will have to remind their MPs that reunification can no longer be used as an excuse for dipping into taxpayers’ pockets. East Germany looks far better than anyone would have anticipated in 1989. Now it’s time for all of Germany to foster renewable energy, small businesses and education for the 21st century.

Germany is still a divided country. But the division does not mark the borders of the former East and West Germany. It separates the people who are old enough to remember the two German nations and those who are too young to. Being born in 1969 in then West Germany, I belong to the former group. I recall vividly those TV pictures of army parades on Karl-Marx-Allee with German Democratic Republic (GDR) party officials in fur-coats watching on sternly. Today, living in former East Berlin, I now cycle along this boulevard. At that time East Germany, for us, was a foreign country. When our politicians spoke about the need for reunification it was a hollow phrase. No one believed it would ever happen.

But then, close to midnight on 9 November, 20 years ago today, brave East Germans got rid of their totalitarian regime – they breached the wall that had divided families, a city, a nation, the world. With their Trabis, tracksuits and perms, for us westerners, these people looked as if they just had stepped out of a time machine from the 1970s. They were as irritated by our swanky cars and condescending manners. We really had to get used to each other. Even today I find myself saying things like, “My street is in East Berlin” or, “The design looks so ‘ostig’”, meaning‚ Eastern-style.

But now a new generation has grown up that doesn’t remember when the wall came down because they were too young or weren’t even born then. These people have never cared whether something was “East” or “West”. Even I can’t tell anymore which side of the divide new pop stars, chat show hosts or politicians are from. And the only ones walking along the street in my neighbourhood where the wall used to be, reading the information signs and entering the posh new visitors’ centre, seem to be Italian tourist groups. For a few days now Germans will talk about the reunification but in a few weeks most will stop thinking about it again. This is good news.

Politics are also beginning to acknowledge that it is time to move on. The new interior minister Thomas de Maizière – who is now in charge of the former new federal states – says the term “Aufbau Ost” (literally to build up the East) is out-dated. He calls for “innovation and smart growth – not only for the east of our country”. Economists say that measures such as “Solidarpakt” – that transfers money from west to east – or “Solidaritätszuschlag” – that collects extra taxes from all Germans to cope with the costs of reunification – will be redundant by 2020 at the latest. 

Since 1989 €1.6trn has been sent from west to east Germany. East Berlin is quickly becoming the fancy part of town, with the Gendarmenmarkt, the renovated Neues Museum by David Chipperfield, and the impending rebuilding of the Stadtschloss palace. Eastern cities such as Dresden and Leipzig are now modern hubs of business and culture, boasting both restored old buildings and daring new architecture. Today it’s towns in west Germany that are beginning to look a bit shabby, with bumpy roads and run-down malls.

Germans will have to remind their MPs that reunification can no longer be used as an excuse for dipping into taxpayers’ pockets. East Germany looks far better than anyone would have anticipated in 1989. Now it’s time for all of Germany to foster renewable energy, small businesses and education for the 21st century. 

Markus Albers is contributing editor to Monocle based in Berlin. Tomorrow our three-part series on the fall of the Berlin Wall is from Sofia