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Category: work Page 7 of 24

Kindles for Everyone?

As we wrap up our sojourn in Louisiana, we are, as I noted previously, spending our last weekend in the Indiana Memorial Union. Our fellow guests are mostly older folks, many look like they are probably retired, who are here to attend a mini university. I don’t know what their curriculum looks like, but I do know they are having a great time. I’m guessing that a good portion are alumni, who are simply enjoying a return to campus — not entirely unlike ourselves, so we have enjoyed watching them walk and reminisce.

They are having a great time, and, from what a young woman in the IMU Bookstore told Yung, then spend a lot of money. (We ourselves bought a few tee shirts as well as baseball caps for me and Lily.) Walking around this evening, cooling off after a final supper at Little Tibet, we saw a few of them settled into the first floor lounge of the IMU, reading. One of them was reading on a Kindle. Seeing that, I couldn’t help myself. My exec ed days kicked in, and I turned to Yung and said:

The smart thing to do would be to roll the price of a Kindle into the overall package and hand each of them one with all their readings already loaded onto the thing. Throw is a laser engraving with the IU logo or a leather carrier with the logo and you’ve given them a great keepsake and a terrific calling card for the university. (Not to mention the fact that the Kindle’s adjustable font sizes are probably going to be appreciated, too.)

Such a “gimmick” probably has only a limited life-time while we all wait for the e-reader platform to develop, but while the opportunity exists, I would certainly use it. I would imagine that at least some exec ed programs are already doing this. Yung later read something in USA Today about a number of high-end hotels doing something similar.

June in Louisiana

It’s June in Louisiana. Is it wrong to be thinking about this:

A portable generator

It’s $399 at Electric Generators Direct.

A Return to the IMU

Today we moved from our lovely Campus View apartment to a room in the Indiana Memorial Union. Some sort of music camp begins tomorrow here on the IU campus, making it impossible to extend our stay in Campus View. We wanted to stay on campus and take advantage of how walkable everything is, and so the IMU seemed like the best bet.

Of all the buildings on campus that I have been in, the IMU definitely is the most evocative for me. First, it’s a striking building. It is large, but offers no since of its size inside. Instead, it’s a maze of rooms and hallways, which were very confusing when I first arrived on campus almost twenty years ago. The second reason builds on the first: this building is a maze, and while at first it intimidated me, over the years I grew braver and braver in exploring its various nooks and hallways. (And I know I never came close to finding them all — the tall, central tower still remains terra incognito. Alas.)

In some ways, the IMU also marked one of the great life changes I underwent here at IU. I have very strong memories of Executive Education programs that happened here, of setting up classrooms in the conference center below, of setting up bars in hotel room suites, and of spending the night as part of my job of staying here late and getting here early.

Jason Jackson Gave Me Homework

On Friday, I managed to squeeze in a lunch with Jason Jackson, who is one of those people who is both erudite and productive as well as grounded and open. People like me who have fallen behind want to be able to pillory him, but I cannot. He’s that good. He has been amazingly successful and is already an associate professor at Indiana University, where he will shortly be chair of the Folklore Institute. (I know: it’s now the Department of Folkore and Ethnomusicology, but there really is something much nicer about The Folklore Institute.) Yes, he’s that guy, but also a good guy, and someone who has really thought a lot about the many institutional dimensions of the philological (or anthropological) project. His first step out the door was as a combination university professor / museum curator at the University of Oklahoma. Back at Indiana University, I think he made a clear, and concise, assessment that the ethnographic fields of anthropology, folklore studies, and ethnomusicology needed to examine and revise where necessary the institutional frameworks within which they work, not only in light of the emergent, and sometimes radical, shifts being brought about by the information technology revolution but also in view of the darkness that too often shrouds the humanities.

As always, he had a reading list for me, and I’ve set about surveying what he gave me:

  • The Public Knowledge Project a multi-institutional project. It has developed open source software CMSes for managing/hosting journals and conferences as well as Lemon8-XML, “a web-based application designed to make it easier for non-technical editors and authors to convert scholarly papers from typical word-processor editing formats such as MS-Word .DOC and OpenOffice .ODT, into XML-based publishing layout formats.”

  • Connexions describes itself as “a place to view and share educational material made of small knowledge chunks called modules that can be organized as courses, books, reports, etc.” (See note below.)

  • The Open Anthropology Cooperative notes it “was launched on 28 May 2009 by a group of friends who met on Twitter before joining Ning. The most important word in our title is the first. Open access, open membership, open to sharing new ideas, open to whatever the organization might do or become; open to everyone, as in ‘open source’. We have already started many discussion groups, blogs, a forum and places to share a variety of ideas and materials. This is just the beginning: we expect to hold virtual conferences, to add podcasts, publish longer pieces online and incorporate a variety of social networking devices into our exchanges.” Those familiar with Ning will recognize the interface, but certainly the goals of the OAC is most welcome, given, from my point of view, the rather walled garden that the American Anthropological Association otherwise maintains around its publications.

Note: *While browsing the journals currently using the Open Journal Software provided by the Public Knowledge project, I came across this interesting collection of journals organized under the umbrella of the Open Humanities Press.

My First Week at EVIADA

It’s the end of the first week at the EVIA Digital Archive workshop. My fellow Fellows are out at nearby state park, but I have remained in Bloomington with Lily while Yung-Hsing is in North Carolina for a conference. I don’t mind, really. I really haven’t had much time with the bean all week, and it will be nice to spend some time together, especially in the beautiful weather that the Midwest seems too happy to give us and in the amazing environs of Bloomington. (It makes me wish the Folklore Institute was in need of an Americanist: I would surely apply.)

For all the parks and restaurants and museums that Yung and Lily have visited, I have spent most of my time here:

AWB in action

The Annotator’s Workbench

That’s obviously not a picture of the Indiana University library nor of the Institute for Digital Arts and Humanities’ conference room. That has been the location of my body, yes, but my mind has spent much of the time in the virtual space of The Annotator’s Workbench, the application created by EVIADA for the express purpose of marking up video files in such a way that they can be published to the web in a form that makes them discoverable and usable to instructors and researchers.

The application is amazing but still in development, which means it’s not as stable as one would like, especially on the Mac OS. (This is explained somewhat by the fact that originally the app was going to be Windows-only.) What happens is that you learn what will cause the app to freeze or crash and, well, you simply don’t do that. Different folks had different problems, so I can’t attest to others developing a workflow that, well, worked, but I did and I managed to make a fair amount of headway in this first week.

What I submitted to the EVIA Digital Archive was two hours of footage from the 2007 running of the Mermentau Mardi Gras and eight hours of footage from 2005 in which I led a team of graduate students to document an elderly Creole woman, Mrs. Enola Matthews, making soap. She was doing so at the request of her niece, and so some of what we captured was the soap-making process and some of it was stories told by the older woman to the younger people who surrounded her. (Mrs. Matthews was of the mind that all younger people needed to learn something and so her lessons were spread out among not only her niece but also me and the graduate students.)

What I got done this week is I managed to break all of the Mardi Gras material into scenes, which at least possess a basic description. In some cases I began to write detailed descriptions, but I really poured a fair amount of energy, and words, into glossary items, which you can link to from within any text. I did this because there are several terms that bear enough of a semantic load that they deserve the extensive treatment of a glossary entry — Mardi Gras, run, stop — and it also seemed to me that the best place to lay the ground for some sort of ideational framework were in the meta text fields like the glossary and the event description.

This business of text fields is interesting, as well as exhausting. While I would readily admit that I have not apparently been the most productive of academics — I really need to get those JAF and JFR essays shepherded through the pipeline, don’t I? — and I have also worked in a lot of alternative forms (for an academic) like public television news magazine pieces, CD liner notes, performance program notes et cetera, those forms are still largely linear, or, at the very least one has the sense of moving a reader along in a particular directions or at least a set of particular directions.

This is different. In the eventual EVIADA web interface, users will search and be delivered results by scenes. So, let’s say a user searches for “line dance.” That search would result in a Google-like list composed of scenes, two of which would be from my Mardi Gras material. (In 2007, the Mermentau Mardi Gras performed the freeze on Route 90 and the Cupid shuffle in front of the Morse fire house.) But there would also potentially be a host of other line dances from all around the world.

Each scene, then, must be self-sustaining. Explained in its own right. Users will see a tab for an event description, but the scene description itself carries the burden of getting people to explore such further steps into the material. The EVIADA staff have been incredibly good at emphasizing this.

Writing this way is not impossibly hard but nor is it effortlessly easy. Yes, there is a lot of repetition, but always with a difference. No matter how alike or contiguous one scene is to another, it is not the same scene, and so the context has shifted, forcing a shift in the text one writes. This should all be immediately obvious to someone steeped in performance studies, no? Well, it wasn’t necessarily obvious as I began, but it became so. However, grasping the obvious and then finding the best, and most productive, path through it are not necessarily the same thing.

In short, there’s a lot more here than simply writing up a basic description of a series of scenes that will eventually spatter a user’s computer screen. Working out what that “more” is something that I have been mulling over as I anticipate diving back into the remaining material and push toward getting as much work done before Wednesday as possible.

EVIADA and the Future of Scholarly Publishing

I’ve been thinking about the nature of writing that I have been doing for my collections going into the EVIA Digital Archive. As I noted in a previous post about my time at EVIADA, the challenge has been to switch gears to write to the new form of publication.

As I wrote that last sentence, I wanted to use the word medium, but that doesn’t quite work with the web, does it? The web is a kind of meta-medium, as I have noted elsewhere. The great thing about the web as a distribution channel is that it allows for static print forms, like the scholarly article or monograph (more on the latter later), as well as other media forms — images, audio, video — that are, no matter what dreamy-eyed web prophets prattle on about — essentially static as well. Sorry, static here means the content does not change in relationship to the reader/viewer/user, which is essentially adhering to the terminology already used by most folks to distinguish between static html sites and those sites driven by some sort of web application — like the one, for example, that drives this blog, Word Press, that allows users to tweak the content they see or to interact with the content by creating comments. (Okay, so I haven’t turned the latter functionality on, because I don’t like dealing with comment spam. But if anyone has anything to say, e-mail me and I’ll post it and credit you with it. No one’s reading this, yes? Good. I can keep blathering on then outside these parentheses.)

The danger of the new medium and of the interactivity that makes it possible is that the dreamy-eyed web prophets want everything to be that way. So one can imagine that somewhere someone is tempted to say that the EVIA Digital Archive is the way of the future. That in that future scholars will spend less time producing long, tedious tracts often arguing arcane theoretical points and more time sticking close to the very stuff that makes their fields interesting in the first place. (Wow, that sounded pretty convincing.)

Nonsense. (See also: balderdash, blather, bunkum, claptrap, drivel, garbage, idiocy, piffle, poppycock, rigmarole, rubbish, tomfoolery, trash, twaddle.)

And I don’t think the good folks at EVIADA mean it that way either. But it does open up possibilities, and in the process of opening up those possibilities, it opens up news of interacting with data, which can only be a good thing. Certainly one of the things that I enjoy about studying material folk culture is that it requires me not only to describe it in words but to photograph it, measure it, draw it. Every time I engage the material with which I work in a different modality, I have the opportunity to see it from, well quite literally, a new perspective. The kind of close attention that the Annotator’s Workbench requires of a depositor underlines that. I have glimpsed things in the Mermentau Mardi Gras that I knew were there without really being able to say what they were. And I’ve been following that run for about 10 years now.

One of the things I did notice about the Annotator’s Workbench is that it is ideological in nature: it enacts the performance studies paradigm. When I first sat down to work with it this past Monday, I turned to Alan Burdette, who directs EVIADA and who, I believe, led humanist side of the project’s development, with a kind of slack-jawed wonder, and he just smiled at me and said, “I know. It’s everything we talked about in graduate school.”

So, hats off to Alan.

One Potential Publishing Future

At lunch time today I decided that instead of heading outside and chatting with my fellow Fellows and then taking a turn around the campus to stretch my legs that I would stay in the EVIADA break room, eat quickly, and get back to work. (The size of my task is beginning to become more clear, and the time that I can dedicate wholly to it more precious.) I ended up spending my entire lunch in conversation with Andrew Albrecht, who is one of the coders for the Annotator’s Workbench application. It turns out Albrecht got his BFA in Fine Arts, and then decided that the world of modern art didn’t interest him all that much. He decided instead to go back to school and get a BS in Computer Science.

And now he’s building software for humanists. It’s a good fit, and Albrecht is a thoughtful interlocutor. Our conversation rambled around quite a bit as we explored mutual interests, but at some point we, of course, talked about what the EVIA Digital Archive might mean for scholarship and scholarly publishing/productivity. We pursued some of the usual speculations, but at one point our conversation ran over the well-worn ground of the scholarly monograph.

Now, a lot of folks have weighed in on the future of the monograph, including the MLA (warning: links to PDF). The general consensus is that it will soon be distributed digitally and available as a physical artifact via some sort of print-on-demand technology. (Whether that will be at the point of distribution, a la University of Michican Press, or your local point of purchase is not yet terribly clear.)

I’m not sure I am prepared to keen and wail over this. I remember, once here on this very campus where I now sit, applying for a job at the Victorian journal housed here at Indiana, Victorian Studies. They were looking for a copy editor. I had sent in my paper work, and I was lucky enough to get called in for an interview, where I sat before three men. Two of them were fairly young. They struck me as fellow graduate students, but perhaps they were junior faculty. I don’t remember them at all. The third man I remember, he was (and is) Don Gray. What he said that day explained a great deal to me, and it echoes somewhat in my head now.

As the interview unfolded, I could not help but reveal my confusion about why a journal dedicated to Victorian literature needed a copy editor. My experience of Victorianists had been of some of the most fastidious people I had ever met, both in person and in prose. Sure there is not much work for a copy editor for such a journal? Up until the moment that question escaped my lips, Gray had been content to let the other two men do all the talking, but my naivité, or stupidity, demanded that such an error quickly be set straight.

“Oh, no,” he said. “We don’t get good manuscripts like that anymore. No one submits good articles anymore. Good articles are expanded into mediocre books. We only get mediocre articles, and they require a great deal of copy editing.”

Gray was being something of a wit in that moment, no doubt. I have come to know him over the years, bit by bit, and he has both a grasp of the tough nuts that make up the most interesting things about the world and a very fine grasp of the ability of language to convey the toughness of the nut in a very compressed fashion.

Nonetheless, there was also some truth in what he said, and perhaps the demise of the monograph should not be so heavily attributed to the decline of library budgets, as it often is. No one who wants to stay in business over the long haul allows themselves to get trapped into serving only one market. (A quick search of businesses that have found themselves bound to Walmart, and only to Walmart, will reveal the danger in such a relationship.) Robust businesses seek out multiple audiences.

It all comes back to diversity. We seek it out in biological ecosystems. We advocate for it in cultural ecologies.

Where is all this going? To this: my proposition to Albrecht was that the demise of the printed monograph was a potential boon to the humanities. As the more technical or specialist document becomes a currency passed among specialists and scholars within a field, then the synthetic or cross-over document that can reach larger audiences and thus be viable as a printed commodity garners, potentially, some value. At least it will do so from the point of publishers and one can imagine that that will translate to some degree to the academy. Or maybe it won’t be a synthetic or cross-over document but simply a text-of-some-kind (to be discovered as Dick Bauman was fond of saying) of reaching out to more than the current too small pool of potential purchasers.

Our First Day Back

It’s nine o’clock in the evening here in Bloomington and, well, it’s still evening: it’s not yet night. I am sitting out on our apartment’s balcony listening to cars rush by on Highway 46 and birds sing a last night time song. A slightly cool breeze pushes on my left side on occasion. And it is still bright enough to watch people pass on the paths below.

Our first full day back and we enjoyed it in a very relaxed fashion. I did a quick second grocery shop accompanied by Jane Beck, and I returned to find Lily and Yung in one of the many play yards that literally surround Campus View apartments. Lily was playing with a much younger boy whose father spoke to him softly in Russian as well as in English, as if helping him transition into the second language.

After lunch and a bit of rest, we launched on a long walk around campus, walking down Tenth Street to the library and then winding past the theater to Ballantine Hall before stopping off in the Indiana Memorial Union for some refreshment and (more) rest in front of the hospitality fire that has been burning in the IMU since 24 November 1939.

Laudun-2009-0297

Lily in front of the hospitality fire in the IMU.

We walked back following the branch of the Jordan River that passes behind the Lilly Library, coming up to Showalter Fountain again and then through the pedestrian walkway that was a street while we were at IU:

Laudun-2009-0298

I think both Yung and I expected to feel some stronger set of emotions than we did. I don’t think either of felt nostalgia or haunted by our walks around campus. It was simply pleasant. Perhaps Lily diverted us too much to be focused on re-living moments. All we knew was that we were on a beautiful campus, a true university campus, and that we knew our way around. Sure, we wished ourselves on the campus. Who wouldn’t? A library so well stocked. A campus so well imagined. And so many events going on every single day.

Perhaps the clincher for us came at the close of the day, when we visited the small library on the first floor of our apartment building. After I read Lily a few books, she wanted to spend some time drawing, where she was joined not by one but by two other girls, both of whom were also Chinese and who were spoken to in Chinese by their mothers. You could sense that Lily felt a sense of wonderment at being surrounded by people who looked like her, instead of being the only Chinese child in the room.

Our Campus View Apartment

Wow. That’s all I can write right now. Wow. The EVIA Digital Archive folks have set us up in an amazing apartment. We’re on the top floor, the ninth, and we’re all the way to the end of the East wing. We have a balcony that has one of the most amazing views I have surveyed in a long time.

The apartment itself is small, but it’s clean and it’s simple. We’re going to easily enjoy our two weeks here, and I think we both already wish we could stay longer, enjoy the simplicity of it, harness that simplicity to drive our own work forward.

I’ve put together a small slide show of the place for folks to see:

World Oil Consumption

For those of who haven’t seen it yet, or if you haven’t seen some of the things you can do with Google Earth, one terrific example of the applications capabilities and also a way of letting people “see” data in compelling illustrations is the one the shows world oil consumption by nation. Note bene: the link is to a Google Earth (KMZ) file which will either download to your computer or will download and open in Google Earth. You have to have the Google Earth app installed to see this. (The application is free.)

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© John Laudun