At last I have time to work on an essay that's been invited (but not yet accepted) for a book on urban communication. Toward that end I'm playing around with a term that might be useful: Origami Urbanism (not to be confused with Mark Robinson's 2003 album Origami [and] Urbanism).
Origami Urbanism converts the city into a plaything whose apparently editable nature de-centers power relationships, presumably in liberatory fashion. The origami city folds and bends, not individually like the titanium fluidity of Frank Gehry architecture, but in a broader matrix of moving parts whose alteration remakes social order as easily as one might transform a plane (sheet of paper) into a crane. As such, Origami Urbanism trains viewers to imagine themselves as producers, not mere consumers, of a mode of urban performance wherein interpersonal communication and social networks become unfixed.
Here's an example:
Thursday, April 28, 2011
Wednesday, April 27, 2011
Abandoned Bowling Alleys
I just had to share this collection of 40 abandoned bowling alleys. [I borrowed one from improbcat's flickr album to summarize the larger project.]
While I'm annoyed that I missed the Detroit example during my recent visit, I am still grateful that this assemblage has been pulled together.
You know, as I was searching my own photo archives for a suitable example, I realized that, with the exception of an animated neon sign, I don't have a single decent picture of a bowling alley.
Time to rectify that situation!
See the Collection: 40 abandoned bowling alleys
Tuesday, April 26, 2011
The Last Typewriter
I'm flashing back to that Simpsons episode ("Girly Edition") in which Lisa anchors a kids' news television show, competing with her brother to produce sappy human interest stories. In one scene, she stands next to a forlorn-looking train track and intones wistfully, "The old Union Pacific doesn't come by here much anymore." Just then, a thoroughly modern Union Pacific train barrels by - proof that nostalgia may be popular, but it's not always accurate.
So I will offer no tearful tributes today to the passing of another icon of the past; I merely note that the last company in the world to make typewriters - Godrej and Boyce - sold its final batch this week, and they're not making any more. Think of it. No more typewriters. Me, I don't miss them - except on those occasions when I'm required to fill out an important form that doesn't have an electronic version. When I first arrived in my academic department, we had one just for that purpose. Then one day it was gone.
Oh well. At least my office still has that old-school metal pencil sharpener bolted near the door in my office.
Learn more: Last Typewriter Factory in the World Shuts Its Doors
So I will offer no tearful tributes today to the passing of another icon of the past; I merely note that the last company in the world to make typewriters - Godrej and Boyce - sold its final batch this week, and they're not making any more. Think of it. No more typewriters. Me, I don't miss them - except on those occasions when I'm required to fill out an important form that doesn't have an electronic version. When I first arrived in my academic department, we had one just for that purpose. Then one day it was gone.
Oh well. At least my office still has that old-school metal pencil sharpener bolted near the door in my office.
Learn more: Last Typewriter Factory in the World Shuts Its Doors
Monday, April 25, 2011
Continuing Slide in the Academic Market
Here are some highlights from the 2011 American Association of University Professors Faculty Salary Report. While this news has been out for several weeks now, I've only now been able check it out. No matter the delay, this report about today's academic market makes an important contribution to a growing array of evidence that questions the ongoing viability of the professorate.
The bad news:
• For the second year, faculty salary increased marginally but failed to keep up with inflation. [The AAUP adds some important context to this point]:
• Contingent faculty - those not on a tenure track - and graduate student employees total 75 percent of all instructional staff. Less than one in four faculty are on the tenure/tenure track.
What's more, these trends show no signs of abating. If you're thinking about getting into academic life - especially if you're hunting for a tenure-track job - you should read this report.
• Press Release
• Full Report
The bad news:
• For the second year, faculty salary increased marginally but failed to keep up with inflation. [The AAUP adds some important context to this point]:
"Such a disproportionate increase in compensation for a single individual is an indication of misplaced institutional priorities—especially when faculty members and other higher education employees have been faced with involuntary unpaid furloughs, hiring and salary freezes, and cuts to benefits."• Increases in presidential pay continue to far outstrip increases in faculty pay (especially at private schools).
• Contingent faculty - those not on a tenure track - and graduate student employees total 75 percent of all instructional staff. Less than one in four faculty are on the tenure/tenure track.
What's more, these trends show no signs of abating. If you're thinking about getting into academic life - especially if you're hunting for a tenure-track job - you should read this report.
• Press Release
• Full Report
Wednesday, April 20, 2011
Back from Berry
Wouldn't you guess it? I upload a celebratory message about this blog's 1000th post and then go offline for four days! Fact is, I've been working on a project that took me out of town and still have yet to resurface. Nonetheless I've got to share a couple pictures I just received from Kevin Kleine; these are from my recent talk at Berry College.
It was such a treat to visit with folks have taught and sustained me for so many years. I attended Berry from '92 through '94, finishing my undergraduate degree there, and I hope I've grown a bit since then. At the same time I can never forget the feelings I had at Berry - the sense of hushed awe I had when first visiting Hermann Hall, the gifts of time and patience offered by faculty who saw more potential in me than I could imagine, and the shared adventure of Jenny and I completing our degrees together. I love Berry College. There, I will always be a student.
Today I keep Miss Berry's Final Letter to Alumni on my desk, and I read it often. I can't say yet that I've lived up to her call for graduates to help Berry "stand through the ages," but I'm glad I had this opportunity to stand with my teachers and friends, if only for one night.
Friday, April 15, 2011
1,000 posts!
Today's the day: 1,000 posts!
OK, some posts were kind of lame (like, "sorry folks, not gonna post for a while, I'm traveling to…") and some were merely links to cool articles that I read. Some posts were breathless accounts of pop culture phenomena that quickly vanished (cue obligatory link to my first Chatroulette post). But, overall, this blog has provided me a rich opportunity to work through ideas that culminated in City Ubiquitous, fortified several public lectures (especially the one in Denver), and are, even now, helping me develop new essays on topics that include origami architecture and world's fairs.
Woodland Shoppers Paradise started about four years ago, first as a daily blog - even on weekends. These days I'm happy to post about four days a week, and sometimes I don't accomplish even that goal. Still, I consider it an important form of mental exercise. Initially I saw this site as an entirely separate thing from my teaching; now I regularly integrate posts into supplemental reading recommendations (especially when students struggle with things like semicolons!). I'm not a great writer, but Woodland has helped me get a little better. Here you see my enthusiasms, my excesses, my fears, my frustrations, my hopes, and my inchoate notions. Woodland is me in draft-form.
Over the past 1,000 posts, Woodland has shaped several projects that continue to thrive, such as Wood's Writing Guide. A few others, such as Road Trip Essentials, lie dormant yet may flourish again one day. My favorite ongoing project is Daytime Dispatches, an annual dive into the miasma of daytime television shows. I can't imagine that more than a handful of folks drop in to share my suffering at those hours of raunchy talk-show schlockfests and cheesy bodice-ripping soap operas, but I still prepare for the day like I'm heading to battle. ["Daytime Dispatches Four" is scheduled for Friday, June 24th!]
This blog has meant a lot to me. Sometimes it meant something to other folks too. Some one-shot posts, such as my reflections on Suicide, inspired friendships that enrich my life years after I clicked "publish." And I'm still amazed at the number of responses to my recollections about Webb's City, my all-time most popular post (judging by comments). Not every writing effort was so fruitful though. Some posts - I'm looking at you We made it. Can we unmake it? - called forth my swing-for-the-fences response to Big Problems. The response? Crickets. My Learning to Fly post seemed like a good piece of how-to-live-life philosophy. No feedback (maybe for good reason). You never know which posts will make a difference.
Looking back on 1,000 posts I am especially grateful to several fans who regularly share comments. As any blogger will tell you, readers who take the time to share commentary, suggestions, encouragement, and even critique offer a gift worth more than dollars (which isn't saying much these days, but you know what I mean). Frequently I've felt that I was writing with one or two people specifically in mind - anticipating their responses as I arranged ideas, images, and arguments. Let me tell you, writing is so much better, so much more fun, that way. Ultimately Woodland is for me. But I get such pleasure at the idea that other folks have found it useful too.
Most of all, I want to take this moment to thank Jenny Wood, my wife and best friend. Jenny has read more posts more carefully and more patiently than anyone else in the world. She is my unofficial copy-editor and reality-checker. If Jenny says that an idea is half-baked; it's half-baked. I may argue and I may cringe, but I've learned to trust her instincts. I may still drop some bombs of silliness or error into the blogosphere now and again, but Jenny's eagle eye has helped keep Woodland Shoppers Paradise on a firm foundation. Thank you, sweetheart, for visiting, for commenting, for reposting, and for encouraging me to keep at it.
OK, enough congratulations. Let's wrap this thing up with one final item. If you've ever wondered about the name, Woodland Shoppers Paradise - if you've ever asked, "Why'd he call it that?" - well, back in '07 I didn't give it much thought. I was playing around with the interface for Blogspot (as Blogger was called back then) and I had to put something into the name field. It was just a lark, this blogging thing. I didn't think it would last a month or two. And I like the idea of a blog as a mall; you can amble about, find what you like, and enjoy the pleasure of feeling slightly overwhelmed by the spectacle. A lot of this stuff is surface-level glitz. You won't find much depth in a mall, or in this blog. Anyway, the name seemed catchy enough. And I wasn't thinking about a long-term project.
Who knew?
OK, some posts were kind of lame (like, "sorry folks, not gonna post for a while, I'm traveling to…") and some were merely links to cool articles that I read. Some posts were breathless accounts of pop culture phenomena that quickly vanished (cue obligatory link to my first Chatroulette post). But, overall, this blog has provided me a rich opportunity to work through ideas that culminated in City Ubiquitous, fortified several public lectures (especially the one in Denver), and are, even now, helping me develop new essays on topics that include origami architecture and world's fairs.
Woodland Shoppers Paradise started about four years ago, first as a daily blog - even on weekends. These days I'm happy to post about four days a week, and sometimes I don't accomplish even that goal. Still, I consider it an important form of mental exercise. Initially I saw this site as an entirely separate thing from my teaching; now I regularly integrate posts into supplemental reading recommendations (especially when students struggle with things like semicolons!). I'm not a great writer, but Woodland has helped me get a little better. Here you see my enthusiasms, my excesses, my fears, my frustrations, my hopes, and my inchoate notions. Woodland is me in draft-form.
Over the past 1,000 posts, Woodland has shaped several projects that continue to thrive, such as Wood's Writing Guide. A few others, such as Road Trip Essentials, lie dormant yet may flourish again one day. My favorite ongoing project is Daytime Dispatches, an annual dive into the miasma of daytime television shows. I can't imagine that more than a handful of folks drop in to share my suffering at those hours of raunchy talk-show schlockfests and cheesy bodice-ripping soap operas, but I still prepare for the day like I'm heading to battle. ["Daytime Dispatches Four" is scheduled for Friday, June 24th!]
This blog has meant a lot to me. Sometimes it meant something to other folks too. Some one-shot posts, such as my reflections on Suicide, inspired friendships that enrich my life years after I clicked "publish." And I'm still amazed at the number of responses to my recollections about Webb's City, my all-time most popular post (judging by comments). Not every writing effort was so fruitful though. Some posts - I'm looking at you We made it. Can we unmake it? - called forth my swing-for-the-fences response to Big Problems. The response? Crickets. My Learning to Fly post seemed like a good piece of how-to-live-life philosophy. No feedback (maybe for good reason). You never know which posts will make a difference.
Looking back on 1,000 posts I am especially grateful to several fans who regularly share comments. As any blogger will tell you, readers who take the time to share commentary, suggestions, encouragement, and even critique offer a gift worth more than dollars (which isn't saying much these days, but you know what I mean). Frequently I've felt that I was writing with one or two people specifically in mind - anticipating their responses as I arranged ideas, images, and arguments. Let me tell you, writing is so much better, so much more fun, that way. Ultimately Woodland is for me. But I get such pleasure at the idea that other folks have found it useful too.
Most of all, I want to take this moment to thank Jenny Wood, my wife and best friend. Jenny has read more posts more carefully and more patiently than anyone else in the world. She is my unofficial copy-editor and reality-checker. If Jenny says that an idea is half-baked; it's half-baked. I may argue and I may cringe, but I've learned to trust her instincts. I may still drop some bombs of silliness or error into the blogosphere now and again, but Jenny's eagle eye has helped keep Woodland Shoppers Paradise on a firm foundation. Thank you, sweetheart, for visiting, for commenting, for reposting, and for encouraging me to keep at it.
OK, enough congratulations. Let's wrap this thing up with one final item. If you've ever wondered about the name, Woodland Shoppers Paradise - if you've ever asked, "Why'd he call it that?" - well, back in '07 I didn't give it much thought. I was playing around with the interface for Blogspot (as Blogger was called back then) and I had to put something into the name field. It was just a lark, this blogging thing. I didn't think it would last a month or two. And I like the idea of a blog as a mall; you can amble about, find what you like, and enjoy the pleasure of feeling slightly overwhelmed by the spectacle. A lot of this stuff is surface-level glitz. You won't find much depth in a mall, or in this blog. Anyway, the name seemed catchy enough. And I wasn't thinking about a long-term project.
Who knew?
Thursday, April 14, 2011
Detroit Wrap-up
This week I've been writing about my travels in and around the Motor City, and I've used these posts to inspire conversations with my students about a range of topics: the transformation of America's cities, the intersection of scholarship and tourism, and the role of academic inquiry beyond the Ivory Tower. Monday introduced a video about Detroit ruins, Tuesday featured the Michigan Central Station, and Wednesday focused on the Heidelberg Project. Today I thought I'd wrap this blog series up with some images and memories that don't fit into any particular narrative.
I begin at Johnson's service station on Junction and Kopernick, a jaunty deco burst of auto-enthusiasm set in a sea of dreary red brick. This place recalls the pleasure of chance discovery that happens when I allow myself to get lost in a city. Right turn, left turn, right turn, random direction - and repeat. And suddenly I'm looking up at this white tower, its ersatz battlements and chevron runes meant to evoke a stylized version of the past. Today Johnson's is a cheerful thumbs-up to the motorist who doesn't have time to read architecture any more deeply than a passing glance. Take pictures soon; you never know how long it'll look this good.
Later on, as I'm taking US 12 west out of town, I come across this sign for Yellow Tigers Karate School. Actually this is my second visit. The previous day I'd stopped to take a picture, but kids were coming and going - and parents were waiting with the anxious, focused eyes of folks who know that a few lessons in karate are little protection against these streets. Taking pictures near their kids is a pretty stupid idea. So I abandon my plan, only to return the next day. The light is lousy and I must cross a Frogger-maze of fast moving cars to get here, but I will snap a shot of this badass dude bringing some righteous thunder on a truck because, well, because he can! No way I'm passing this place up twice.
Finally there's Miller's bar in nearby Dearborn. I recently read that Miller's serves one of the best hamburgers in America. And since I can't load up on Slow's Bar B Q [their spelling, not mine] for every meal, I figure I ought to check the place out. Now in case there's any confusion, Miller's is a bar that happens to serve some of the best burgers in the nation. Yep, there's a grill and there's the steam of patties lovingly pressed, but not too hard. So I savor a Pabst and wait. A few minutes later the bartender plops down a doorstop of meat that's packed in a hearty but otherwise unobtrusive bun. No special spices, no gimmicky sides in this joint. Just good meat. Thank goodness they don't charge by the napkin because this is a wet ride. It'll take days to unclog my motor after this visit.
I begin at Johnson's service station on Junction and Kopernick, a jaunty deco burst of auto-enthusiasm set in a sea of dreary red brick. This place recalls the pleasure of chance discovery that happens when I allow myself to get lost in a city. Right turn, left turn, right turn, random direction - and repeat. And suddenly I'm looking up at this white tower, its ersatz battlements and chevron runes meant to evoke a stylized version of the past. Today Johnson's is a cheerful thumbs-up to the motorist who doesn't have time to read architecture any more deeply than a passing glance. Take pictures soon; you never know how long it'll look this good.
Later on, as I'm taking US 12 west out of town, I come across this sign for Yellow Tigers Karate School. Actually this is my second visit. The previous day I'd stopped to take a picture, but kids were coming and going - and parents were waiting with the anxious, focused eyes of folks who know that a few lessons in karate are little protection against these streets. Taking pictures near their kids is a pretty stupid idea. So I abandon my plan, only to return the next day. The light is lousy and I must cross a Frogger-maze of fast moving cars to get here, but I will snap a shot of this badass dude bringing some righteous thunder on a truck because, well, because he can! No way I'm passing this place up twice.
Finally there's Miller's bar in nearby Dearborn. I recently read that Miller's serves one of the best hamburgers in America. And since I can't load up on Slow's Bar B Q [their spelling, not mine] for every meal, I figure I ought to check the place out. Now in case there's any confusion, Miller's is a bar that happens to serve some of the best burgers in the nation. Yep, there's a grill and there's the steam of patties lovingly pressed, but not too hard. So I savor a Pabst and wait. A few minutes later the bartender plops down a doorstop of meat that's packed in a hearty but otherwise unobtrusive bun. No special spices, no gimmicky sides in this joint. Just good meat. Thank goodness they don't charge by the napkin because this is a wet ride. It'll take days to unclog my motor after this visit.
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