My First Calculator

Shame on You!

Congressman Rick Crawford, R-Jonesboro, owes an apology to radio station KASU and to the countless people who regularly donate to the station.

Crawford’s recent monthly interview on KASU concluded with the congressman telling listeners that Congress ought to ax federal support for public broadcasting. Crawford said this on a public broadcasting station.

As I thought about what I had just heard, I suddenly had a vision of Crawford as a guest, having enjoyed a nice dinner, saying to his host, “Thank you for a very fine dinner. Now, drop dead.”

Shame on you, Crawford.

William J. Allen
Jonesboro

Letter to the editor of the Jonesboro (Arkansas) Sun, February 22, 2017, page 4 (print). Crawford's interview can be heard at http://kasu.org/post/representative-crawford-takes-listener-questions-talks-travel-ban-and-funding

The Hayseeder's Lament

Written by W. T. Daffron, my grandfather, of Millport Alabama, probably in 1932. It was the height of the Great Depression. 

The Hayseeder’s Lament

What do you think

About the gink

And all this high-brow clan

Who congregate

And advocate

Bankhead’s reduction plan

We raise our cotton

For markets rotten

We freely will admit

But it’s a fact

This Bankhead Act

Don’t help a doggon bit

We plant the seed

And tend the weed

Side dress with guano

We plow and hoe

Keep on the go

No rest so help us Hannah

We work and sweat

Just fume and fret

And worry every day

Haul it to town

And with a frown

Give half the stuff away

We have to sign

On dotted line

At every turn we make

Then buy permits

And send remits

With that we can rake

We pay the ginner

The real winner

In this old game of chance

His biz is brisk

He takes no risk

Your see that at a glance

We count our dough

And hope to go

Right out and buy a shirt

Some calico

And thread you know

To make the wife a skirt

We heave a sigh

And almost cry

To find we’re in a pickle

A note past due

For 10-2-2

Don’t leave a blessed nickel

No shoes, no socks

No calico frocks

Nor just an old straw lid

Not even a hope

To buy a dope

Or candy for the kid

Can’t sell a cow

A pig or sow

A turkey, goose or guinea

Everyone broke

Their stuff in soak

Nobody’s got a penny

No money to spend

No one to lend

A penny on our note

All of us busted

No one trusted

To lead a billy goat

Everybody knows

We have no clothes

Our children unerfed

So tell us quick

What stunt or trick

We’ll pull to get some bread

_______

"Dope" was Daffron's term for medicine. Bankhead alludes to one of the New Deal's programs. It paid farmers to not plant some acreage in an effort to raise commodity prices.

Black Buttons

Not An Angel

Overheard in Christmas decoration section of a local store. 

I don't know why you like that one. It doesn't look anything like an angel.

Might need to include that in my Prolegomena To A Study Of Pretty Bad American Christmas Decoration.

Proliferation of Domains On The Internet

"Google Domains" lists the following Top Level Domain suffixes. The explosion of TLD's has an impact on those of us who have used TLD's in Google searches. The impact may not be as serious for those who search for things at educational institutions (an example these searches: ["coral mortality" site:edu] ["slave narrative" site:edu or site:org]. On the other hand, as a photo historian I will need to lengthen the domain search to "Wet Plate Collodion Tintype" site:edu OR site:org OR site:photography OR site:academy. Even then I may miss a useful domain. 

The source of the proliferation may because it will be a boon to commerce ["road bike" site:bike].  Is it really worth the bow to business?

By the way, when I searched for ipad site:cheap I notice that I got ad results from ordinary .com's. 

Source: https://support.google.com/domains/answer/6010092?hl=en 
More information at https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/List_of_Internet_top-level_domains This page includes suffixes for countries, a boon for some kinds of research.

Google Domains supports the following top-level domains (TLDs):

TLD	Price per year of registration
.academy	$30
.accountants	$120
.actor	$40
.agency	$20
.associates	$30
.bike	$30
.biz	$12
.boutique	$30
.builders	$30
.business	$20
.cab	$30
.camera	$30
.camp	$30
.capital	$50
.cards	$30
.care	$30
.careers	$50
.catering	$30
.cc	$20
.center	$20
.cheap	$30
.church	$40
.city	$20
.cleaning	$30
.clinic	$50
.clothing	$30
.club	$13
.co	$30    Note: .co domains have a 5-year maximum registration.
.co.in	$11    Note: .co.in does not allow private registration.
.co.nz	$19    Note: .co.nz does not allow private registration.            .co.nz does not allow domain locking.
.coach	$60
.codes	$50
.coffee	$30
.com	$12
.community	$30
.company	$20
.computer	$30
.condos	$50
.construction	$30
.consulting	$30
.contractors	$30
.cool	$30
.credit	$120
.cruises	$50
.dance	$20
.dating	$50
.delivery	$60
.democrat	$30
.dental	$50
.diamonds	$50
.digital	$40
.direct	$40
.directory	$20
.discount	$30
.domains	$30
.education	$20
.email	$20
.energy	$120
.engineering	$50
.enterprises	$30
.equipment	$20
.estate	$30
.events	$30
.exchange	$30
.expert	$50
.exposed	$20
.farm	$30
.fish	$30
.fitness	$30
.flights	$50
.florist	$30
.football	$30
.foundation	$30
.fund	$50
.furniture	$50
.futbol	$13
.gallery	$20
.gifts	$40
.glass	$30
.graphics	$20
.gratis	$20
.gripe	$30
.guide	$40
.guru	$28
.haus	$110
.healthcare	$60
.holdings	$50
.holiday	$50
.house	$30
.immo	$40
.immobilien	$30
.in	$12    Note: .in does not allow private registration.
.industries	$30
.info	$12
.institute	$20
.insure	$60
.international	$20
.investments	$30
.io	$60    Note: .io does not allow domain locking.            .io allows 1, 2, and 5-year registration periods.
.kaufen	$30
.kitchen	$30
.land	$30
.lease	$50
.legal	$60
.life	$40
.lighting	$20
.limited	$30
.limo	$50
.maison	$50
.management	$20
.me	$20
.media	$30
.memorial	$60
.moda	$30
.net	$12
.network	$20
.ninja	$19
.org	$12
.partners	$50
.parts	$30
.photography	$20
.photos	$20
.pictures	$11
.pizza	$60
.place	$40
.plumbing	$30
.productions	$30
.properties	$30
.pub	$30
.pw	$9
.recipes	$50
.reisen	$90
.rentals	$30
.repair	$30
.report	$20
.republican	$30
.restaurant	$60
.reviews	$20
.sarl	$40
.schule	$20
.services	$30
.shoes	$30
.singles	$30
.social	$30
.solar	$30
.solutions	$20
.supplies	$20
.supply	$20
.support	$20
.surgery	$50
.systems	$20
.technology	$20
.tienda	$50
.tips	$20
.tires	$120
.today	$20
.tools	$30
.town	$30
.toys	$30
.training	$30
.university	$50
.us	$12    Note: .us does not allow private registration.
.vacations	$30
.ventures	$50
.viajes	$50
.villas	$50
.vision	$30
.voyage	$50
.watch	$30
.works	$30
.world	$40
.zone	$30

* Prices subject to change without notice.

Begüm Yamanlar's Landscapes

Begüm Yamanlar 

Begüm Yamanlar, untitled (1/3), from Zone Series 

Begüm Yamanlar, untitled (2/3), from Zone Series

Begüm Yamanlar, untitled (3/3), from Zone Series

Begüm Yamanlar, an Istanbul photographer and video artist explores the mystery and uncertainty of space, urban space, rural space and objects in indeterminate space. 

Her Zone Series consists of landscapes that simultaneously invite and repel, give the viewer easy entrance tempered by doubt or dread. 

Each image includes a path running from the viewer's location into a forest until the path curves out of view or disappears in an unexplained fog. Would I step into the scene? In a dream perhaps; otherwise I move on to the next image. But I always return and contemplate, wondering if I haven't detected a whisper from the image.

The artist clearly has a catalog of tree trunks, limbs, foliage and fleeting spots of light. She uses these judiciously in a way that pulls the individual images together through repetition, overlay and variation. The viewer comes to know these passages as visual friends in an environment fraught with dread.  

Yamanlar told me that each photograph combines seven or eight images that she then develops through twenty or so layers. The images have a tonal richness despite the prevailing darkness. Looking at the first of the series I enjoyed the thought that layers can be handled in a way that suggests a full brush in a painting. 

"Painting" reminds us that these contemporary photographs have precedence in seventeenth-century Dutch landscape painting. In Jan van Goyen and others, especially Jacob van Ruisdael, we find a similar mystery in forests with paths or roads that invite and then disappear.

Another historical link with the Netherlands is deforestation, a process that was well underway in Holland by the seventeenth-century.* Turkey too is cutting itself toward barren land, a theme found in the work of a number of contemporary Turkish photographers. The hills along the Bosphoros, the respitory system of Istanbul, are being denuded at an alarming pace that almost certainly portends an alarming end. 

One cannot but wonder if the persistent dread in Yamanlar's forests express the viewer's apprehensions or those of the forests. Or both. 
_________________________
Begüm Yamanlar's "ADA/Island" opens at Galeri Zilberman the evening of July 3. İstiklal Cad. Mısır Apartmanı No.163 K.3 D.10, 34433 İstanbul

*Whited, Tamara L., Jens Ivo Engels, Richard C. Hoffmann, Hilde Ibsen, and Wybren Verstegen. Northern Europe: An Environmental History. Edited by Mark R. Stoll. Santa Barbara, Calif: ABC-CLIO, 2005, 80-81.

In Facebook:

Many years ago, around around 1970 I guess, I was in the back, passenger part, of an Afghan truck. I don't remember where I was going. Doesn't matter. I was sitting on a wooden bench along one side of the truck. On the bench on the other side was a woman holding a baby (with a husband or brother next to her). The woman wore a chadri (burka); she was covered from head to foot. The baby began crying. The woman raised the chadri enough to suckle the baby. My eye caught sight of the mother's breast. I quickly looked away. Then I sneaked one more glance. In this natural, universal act of motherhood and babyhood I had seen the breast of a woman whose body was otherwise hidden from me. The truck was quiet. The passengers were content that the baby was in the arms of its mother sucking for nourishment and contentment. I felt content too.

for birds sake

"for birds sake," an online exhibition by Cemre Yesil and Maria Sturm, begins with a statement offering a fascinating bit of history and contemporary politics:

Since the time of the Ottoman Empire, Istanbul has been a very important city for aviculture. The city’s geographical location for bird migration has led to the establishment of a huge culture devoted to birds and their care.

The photographers’ statement goes on to describe the purpose of the photographs:

This work is about the birdmen of Istanbul and focuses on the shrouded relationship between the bird and the birdman, one full of contradictions of love, possession and pleasure.

The birds compete to determine which has the most beautiful song of the day. The authors of the show put it this way:

 an illegal tradition 
an addiction
a meditation
Something they need in order to feel good.

The first photograph shows two hands pulling apart curtains that hang over a birdcage. We can see past the door's grill, but we see nothing except darkness. This is as close to a bird as the exhibit allows us. "A white box that contains darkness," the statement says. The succeeding images do not pull away the curtains but speak gracefully of songbirds and their keepers--or should we call them patrons?

Objects of bird care--brightly colored feeding and watering containers, two beautiful Turkish tea glasses with plastic snaps for cage attachment, twine, and other paraphernalia--appear against black backgrounds that push the objects toward us.

The cages are a central theme in the photographic sequence. These men who cultivate beautiful song are masters of simple but elegant design. Cloth and attachments speak of eyes that find beauty in both music and color and texture. 

Music echoes in two ironic cages--old vinyl record holders converted from one kind of song protection to another--birdcages. 

The birdmen that we see are large, small, trim, pudgy--the variety of people you encounter on any Istanbul sidewalk. Nothing remarkable marks them as bird or song lovers. They are "Men smelling like newspapers and turkish tea." I saw only one birdman marked as a birder, a beautifully composed young man wearing a short black shirt. The shot is cropped at the shoulder, muscular arm akimbo to the waist and forming a large triangular negative space between arm/hand and torso. The arm has two tattoos. On the shoulder is a beguiling geisha-like figure disappearing around the limb. On the forearm is a tattoo of a bird perched on a limb.

Next to this photograph is another of a bright white and torn competition scorecard that mimics and fills its neighbor's negative area.

Placement of the images is carefully considered. Some of the images sit by themselves surrounded by plenty of white space, while others hang close together, pairs that invite consideration of image relationship, formal or narrative.

The portraits of birdmen reveal a couple of smiles but most show a serious demeanor that borders on apprehension. Is it the look of men waiting for the results of a competition, or an uncertainty about the photographic documentation? From the show's statement:

A mutual madness between photographers and birdmen; us; trying to understand this passion fitted into cages, and them; trying to understand our urge to take pictures of these ‘ordinary’ cages.

The political side of the tradition is explained simply:

Many diverse social platforms exist devoted to the keeping and breeding of birds. Today this culture is in danger; keeping songbirds such as goldfinches and greenfinches, in particular, may soon vanish due to Turkey’s adaptation to criteria for European Union candidacy.

The slow dance between Turkey and the EU ought to be a poetic movement; otherwise it will atrophy from what Ezra Pound described as poetry moving too far from the music.

Protection of wildlife is vital, but so is the protection of beautiful cultural treasures. Brussels needs to listen to the music, the music preserved and bequeathed by the birdmen of Istanbul.

The exhibition by Yesil and Sturm is visual poetry toward that end.
______
Images provided by Cemre Yesil and Maria Sturm who retain all rights. The show resides on Yesil's website, http://www.cemreyesil.com/. Maria Sturm's site is available at http://www.mariasturm.com/

Notes on Istanbul Photographers: Ege Kanar, Mortals

Among recent works exhibited by Ege Kanar is a remarkable series of portraits on glass called Mortals. Kanar is a photographer steeped in theory and philosophy. His work explores being, existence and the unfathomable relationship that photography has to being. He writes

How can photography, a tool that is presumably incapable of depicting what is beyond the visible, that which lies not on the surface but beneath it, possibly be used to contribute to the formation of a new transcendent representative state, a hypothetical real, which exists beyond dualities such as visible or invisible?

Mortals immediately reminds one of nineteenth century portraiture, that time when Europe and America celebrated the surface and rarely questioned what the surface really meant. I find that Kanar's Mortals journey back, taking with them the questions that should have been asked but were not. Because the surface ideas of photography's beginnings remain with us, Kanar's work is relevant, more: crucial to an understanding of what the photographic world does today.

As the best nineteenth century portraits do, Kanar's are silent at the same time as they murmur. We encounter them and they are silent even as they pose important questions.

William H. Mumler's spirit photographs of the 1860s cleverly "demonstrate" another realm through trickery that nonetheless satisfied an audience eager for photographs that reached into another realm seemingly uniting the here and the there.

Kanar searches for a metaphor to question the great question.

This work, the appearance of which followed a period of research and discussion regarding the ontology of lens based images, aims to harvest an uncanny photographic metaphor regarding the burden of mortality and the unimaginable state of death.

Kanar's sitters, seen in nude busts, are conspicuously slow to rise to dialogue with the viewer. Only when we zero in on the eyes do we begin to grasp the metaphor made visible. The eyes, "the vehicle to the soul," blink during an exposure of several seconds.

Mortals stare right into the eyes of the observer, blinking only to vaguely indicate the inherent nature of the act of photography which produces death whilst trying to preserve life.

  

Kanar creatively uses time and change to leave a trace of transformation. The eyes carry the busts into a questioning realm of the moment and the passage of the moment, the here not bound by present. 

  

 
These quite images ask questions. So too the viewer. Both are metaphysical. But the questions are different, resembling two one-way "conversations." Therein lies the profundity as well as the beauty of these traces.

Images copyright by Ege Kanar. Presentation at http://egekanar.com/works/mortals/

Me, MOOC and St. Paul

A couple of months ago I signed up for a MOOC (Massive Open Online Course) offered by the Harvard Divinity School and taught by Laura S. Nasrallah, Professor of New Testament and Early Christianity.

I was enthralled, pulled in, captivated. From the syllabus

The letters of Paul are the earliest texts in the Christian scriptures, written by a Jew at a time when the word “Christian” hadn’t yet been coined. What is the religious and political context into which they emerged? How were they first interpreted? How and why do they make such an enormous impact in Christian communities and in politics today?

Nasrallah's scholarly passion comes through again and again especially in the numerous videos in the class. The introductory video is a good example.

I will not describe the full course. You may still visit the archived portions of the course. I want to stress the value of the MOOC as a learning platform and from my point of view a learning platform perfectly suited for students interested in a topic but not seeking academic certification (A certificate is available but that did not concern me).

The obvious target I see are those of us who seek exposure to topics, presentations by first-rate faculty, and a community of like-minded students.

Community needs comment. According to the Harvard Crimson 28,000 students from 183 countries signed up for the MOOC course. My impression is that far few than 28,000 people took full advantage of what the Crimson described as

The course consists of video lectures, annotation assignments, online discussions, and other short videos that help students gain a glimpse into the historical world Paul occupied and the controversies, both ancient and new, that surround his letters.

What I realized is that MOOCs, seen as a way to push education to the world, to those students who need access to reliable courses of study, are also a perfect vehicle for those who no longer need "credit" for participation. Well-produced MOOC classes make everyone a learner, including those such as myself who want to pursue topics for the pleasure of learning. I was completely engrossed and satisfied.

The Book of Embraces Helps

"What is art?" is a question impossible to answer. Eduardo Galeano avoided the question and wrote instead about the function of art. My favorite Galeano function is the first one in his Book of Embraces. 

The Function of Art/1.

Diego had never seen the sea. His father, Santiago Kovadloff, took him to discover it.

They went south.

The ocean lay beyond high sand dunes, waiting.

When the child and his father finally reached the dunes after much walking, the ocean exploded before their eyes.

And so immense was the sea and its sparkle that the child was struck dumb by the beauty of it.

And when he finally managed to speak, trembling, stuttering, he asked his father:

“Help me to see!”

Eduardo Galeano, The Book of Embraces, page 17.

What is wrong with this picture

What is wrong with this picture

At our (university) faculty meeting today we were given permission to skip teaching our classes tomorrow so that we can catch up with paperwork.

I just want to wake up dead

I just want to wake up dead

That is what my father always said about dying. A gentle, uneventful passing. 

This is what happened. He awoke on the fateful day, got up, ate his usual cholesterol-rich breakfast, and then returned to bed for a nap. 

He was in his mid-nineties. 

At some point somebody noticed that he did not look quite right. A check at the bedside revealed that he had died during his nap. As I see it, things turned out better than he had hoped for. He woke up, had a good breakfast, fell asleep and died. 

I'm glad he had the breakfast.  

How well I remember our elderly cat who went on vacation and returned with an attitude

The Special Needs Of Old Cats Caring For Your Elderly Feline 

I am guilty of not remembering the name of a special cat of my childhood. The older I become the more I love cats and forget things such as names.

Well, Cat lived outdoors and would sneak in the house from time to time. My mother did not want animals in the house (well, other than we three sons). The attitude was rooted in an incident from my mother's childhood on the farm, on a day when a goat got in the house at a time when my grandmother was any-day-due with a child. Not pleasant. Not for the people and not for the goat. The goat returned to the outdoors and my grandmother soon gave birth to a healthy little girl.

But I digress. Cat visited the back door of our house every day signally meal time. This was in the 50s and we fed the cat from a can of what I suspect was the cheapest cat food at the grocery store. Can and large spoon in hand, I walked to the back of the yard where a long unused chicken coop sat. The top was a good height for a cat leap and a good height for me to spoon out cat food. I believe the cat got half a can of food a day. I was adept at spooning out the food and breaking it into small hunks for the cat. After impressive gobbles, Cat sat patiently licking any morsel that remained. Where Cat got water I have no idea.

Cat lived with us for several years and then disappeared. It was more than a year later when Cat returned and scratched on the screen door. I understood the body language and the meow. Time to eat. I checked the cupboard and sure enough, a cat food can remained. Can, spoon, Cat, chicken coop. I'm sure that I read an indignant attitude in the cat. "It's late; where was my food?"

Cat ate and I went to bed. The next afternoon Cat was at the back door. More cans had been laid in and the routine returned. I do not remember how long the cat stayed. One day I realized that the cat was not at the door. Cat disappeared and never saw him again.