Hiatus

So I'll be back to blogging in about a week, but until then I'm going to fall off the face of the world a little bit. The fact that I am writing this at 1:45 am when I have to get up for class in 5 1/2 hours should tell you the sort of week I'm having--48 papers graded in time to get 48 finals tomorrow, grades to figure out and submit, 20 pages of a HIDEOUS theory paper written, 20 pages left to write for that and other papers, books to read, facts to check, Christmas gifts to procur, two PhD personal statements crafted with four to go, a writing sample to edit, recommenders to remind, and a Sunday afternoon flight to catch. My last paper is due on the 13th, but I'm going home on the 11th because 1. I really, really want to go home, having not been there since August, and 2. one of my friends volunteered to print my final.

I'm in a much better frame of mind after ordering pizza for dinner, knocking out six pages of writing tonight, doing a solid months worth of laundry (hey, I'll have clean underwear tomorrow! Excellent!) listening to a ridiculous amount of Michael Buble's Christmas songs, and making lists.

This is my favorite time of year, and I'm sad I haven't been able to get into much of a Christmas-y mood, but hopefully that will happen soon. No tree here, no time to put up my lights, and it's been sleeting. One thing that is reassuring is that all of my friends are crazying out, since all of us are grading or teaching or working at the museum, and my friends who aren't at school are super busy with work, so I feel less bad about being a terrible communicator for a week. We started saying "you are on crazy pills" which then turned into "you are on cra pills" which then turned into "CRA PILLS." Art historian catchphrases?

Send me good, scholarly, multi-tasking vibes. I need them. And I'll send some to you! See you all in the middle of the month.

Wocka Wocka Wocka

I will never stop loving the Muppets.

In point of fact, how could someone NOT love the Muppets? The jokes are witty, the songs are catchy, the stories make you a better, kinder person. The Muppets taught me that it's okay to be different, that laughter always helps, and that if you work together and stick with your friends, things will turn out just fine. I'm approaching finals week, have forty papers to grade for Monday and about 30 pages to write this weekend, I'm going Christmas shopping and have a lunch date tomorrow and am all stress-stress-stress all the time, but for a few hours tonight The Muppets just made me happy, for the first time in a few days.

The new movie is great. It really is. I consider myself a little bit of a Muppets connoisseur (read: huge nerd) and it was very enjoyable. It's actually a bit sad, because it's about the Muppets being split up and missing one another, which is something I've been feeling a lot recently about my friends from college, but they get together for one last show to save their theater. I won't tell you what happens (though you can probably guess..)! The celebrity cameos were hilarious as always (I was hoping for Steve Martin, but no luck), the songs were actually pretty good, and the jokes were plentiful. The new Muppet, Walter, is ADORABLE. His talent is whistling! I actually think this movie was aimed at original Muppets fans, because it was a lot about how people have forgotten the Muppets because, as the Bad Guy says, people want "a hard, cynical act for a hard, cynical world." Except we don't, of course. I went with five of my friends and it was such fun--we all ended up crying, too. And smuggled in a bunch of candy. Most people in the theater were probably my age, or older. And then we sang Mahna Mahna in the parking lot.

One of the many things I love about the Muppets is that they have such a wonderful combination of silliness, wittiness, and a bit of nostalgia. While I'll always love "Good grief, the Comedian's a Bear!" some of the songs mean more to me now that I'm older, like "I Hope That Somethin' Better Comes Along" from The Muppet Movie with lines like "It's not often you see a guy that green have the blues that bad," or "You can't live with 'em, you can't live without 'em. / There's something irresistible-ish about 'em. / We grin and bear it 'cause the nights are long. / I hope that something better comes along." The "Rainbow Connection" makes me tear up, and Statler and Waldorf always make me laugh.

The Muppets have been there for me throughout the years. When I get sad about missing home and have too much to write I listen to the songs and skits. The songs are awesome, in the movies and especially the shows, "Lydia the Tattooed Lady" or Beverly Sills and "Pigoletto" (I mean, Pigoletto! that's awesome) or something low-key and sweet like Rowlf singing "Cottleston Pie". The Great Muppet Caper is my favorite of their movies, but I like them all. When I moved to Brooklyn, one of my friends got me The Muppets Take Manhattan as a housewarming present. The Muppet Christmas Carol is my favorite Christmas movie. My ex-roommate sent me Muppets Yahtzee over the summer, and my old subaru was named Kermit.

Jim Henson died when he was 53, which is sad and too young for anyone to die, but as someone who spread such a message of hope and inclusion it somehow seems even more sad. But I'm so glad that his legacy is living on in the people who work on The Muppets now. At his funeral, Harry Belafonte sang "Turn the World Around," just as he did on the Muppet Show. I didn't really know this song before I listened to it awhile ago, but it really is perfect, and something that makes so much sense for Jim Henson.

I'm going to close now with a few of my favorite quotations from the Muppets, but before I do, let me just say: thank you, Muppets, for being such a happy part of my happy childhood, and still being around now that I'm a happy 24 year old.

Ah, a bear in his natural habitat. A Studebaker!

Fozzie: [going over check list] Wax lips?
Zoot: [checking his pockets] Man, I just had them!
Dr. Teeth: Did ya leave 'em in your other pants?
Zoot: I don't have no other pants!

Kermit (Bob Crachitt): Uh, if you please Mr. Scrooge, half an hour off hardly seems customary for Christmas Day.
Rats: No, no.
Scrooge: How much time off *is* customary?
Kermit: Why, uh... The whole day.
Rats: Yeah, yeah!
Scrooge: The *entire* day?
Rats: No, no. That's the frog's idea...

Kermit: Quiet! (everyone gets quiet except Janice)
Janice: Look, Mother. It's my life. OK. So if I want to live on a beach and walk around naked... Oh.

Rizzo the Rat: [falls down a chimney] Hey! I'm stuck! Get me out of here!
Gonzo: I knew you weren't suited for literature.

Life's like a movie, write your own ending, keep believing, keep pretending; we've done just what we've set out to do, thanks to the lovers, the dreamers, and you!

Giving Thanks

This week was the second time I wasn't with my family for Thanksgiving, the first time being when I was in England, so there WAS no Thanksgiving, and it's not like I could have gone home, anyway. I could have gone home this time, and I didn't. It would have been expensive, really expensive, and expensive is not in my budget, and I had so much work, and I'll be home in three weeks anyway...so staying here was justified, but I still felt awful about it. I love Thanksgiving (apart from the, you know, "let's kill all the Native Americans and take their land" problem). It's probably tied with Christmas as my favorite holiday, because it's about family and friends and food, and giving thanks. And here's what I'm thankful for! Prepare yourself for some sappiness.

I'm thankful for my family. Even when I'm not close by, I know that they are always just a phone call or video screen away, and that is an immensely comforting thing. I was able to video-chat with my aunt and some of my cousins during the Thanksgiving parade, and then my mom, dad, sister, and grandmother after dinner, and that made the day infinitely better. This is our first Thanksgiving without my grandmother, and this is going to be a hard holiday season for me. But knowing that they will always make me laugh when I need it and let me cry when I need it is something that keeps me sane.

I'm thankful for my friends. I have awesome friends. I have been a mess this fall at replying to mail and calls (usually I'm pretty good, but not recently) and they have continued to send me cards, leave me funny voicemails, and put up with my whining. I'm really lucky in that I have close friends from high school and college and now grad school. I miss my college friends so much (I miss my high school friends too, of course, but I usually get to see them around the holidays) but it just makes our meetings that much better when they do happen. We're pretty good about staying in contact, and I hope that never changes.

I'm thankful that I get paid to go to school. I mean, really, how good is this gig? I teach something that I love, take classes that I like, and am able to live off of this without having to work more on the side. Not everyone gets to do this, and I'm very fortunate. Yes, sometimes it's pretty stressful, especially since I'm applying to Phd programs right now and not knowing what is coming up for my future is scary as hell, but--I'm glad I'm doing it.

I'm thankful for good food. This year, instead of super-traditional Thanksgiving fare, a friend and I just cooked parts of it that we liked. So we had garlic mashed potatoes, stuffing, garlic bread, carrots and dip, black raspberries, guacamole and chips, mimosas, chardonay, and salted caramel cheesecake. I'm rather pleased about this cheesecake, as it was my first time making one. I decided to do it from scratch, from making the dulce de leche by boiling a can of condensed milk, to cooking caramel for the top. Which was really cool! I felt like a wizard, because when you add the cream to the hot sugar it freaks out, but you just whisk and whisk and it turns out ok. Rather cool.

I'm thankful for pets, especially the cats that I housesat for this week. I definitely would like to get a dog or a cat when I finally settle in a place for longer than a few years. One of the cats doesn't like people who she doesn't know, but by the end of the week she had crept out and let me pet her. And the other cat did not budge from my lap if I was sitting. Or typing, as evidenced by this photo, taken with my computer camera:
I'm thankful for Jane Austen. Self-explanatory, really.

I'm thankful to live in this country, much though I find it frustrating a lot of the time. As an American, I do have personal freedom (especially as a woman) that I would not have other places, and the means to protest if I so choose.

I'm thankful for feminist art historians. Without these people (especially one in particular) I would not have gone to grad school, and probably wouldn't have majored in art history in the first place. Thanks for changing my adopted corner of academia for the better.

I'm thankful for yarn, the way knitting needles click, and the satisfaction of making something out of, well, strings. I'm excited to spend my winter break knitting and watching Dr. Who.

I'm thankful that the Muppets are back, and REALLY jazzed about seeing the movie soon. We watched The Muppet Christmas Carol (aka the best Christmas Carol ever made, if not the best Christmas movie ever) on Thanksgiving, and it never ceases to make me happy.

And speaking of Christmas--I am thankful for Christmas things, especially Bloomington's Canopy of Lights! Some friends and I went to the big lighting kick-off the Friday after Thanksgiving and it was spectacular. So many people were gathered around the square, and the emcee and this fairly creepy clown led the singing of carols and then Santa arrived, and we counted down from 10, and then they turned on the lights! And then we all sang, "We Wish you a Merry Christmas" and dispersed. My friends and I went around the shops around the courthouse, got some soup (pumpkin with roasted pumpkin seeds on it, yum. There is a new soup restaurant on the square, perfect for lunchtime take out, and only $4 or so for a bowl--I think they have 8 different soups a day), and then went and got a drink, and went home!Post-lighting! The lights go from the courthouse to the buildings around the square, so it really *does* look like a canopy of lights!

A bit blurry, but a view of the courthouse and the Hospice Tree of Life.

Favorite bars, Irish Lion and Crazy Horse, all kitted out for Christmas! (fun fact, these two buildings used to be a brothel in the late 1800s)Friends. Lights. Happy belated Thanksgiving, everyone!

Why I Like Opera

I went to La Boheme on Friday night with my usual opera going friend and another friend who hadn't been to an opera before. La Boheme is the most played opera in the US, but I've never seen it live. I like Puccini as much as the next person, and have listened to La Boheme quite a bit, but I'd never realized that 1. parts of it are pretty funny, and 2. parts of it are gut-wrenchingly sad. It also made me quite nostalgic, as I listened to it a lot right before I went to Paris for a few days in the fall of 2007. My friend Jess and I stayed in the sketchiest hotel ever (no, really, she can corroborate this--there were a lot of hijinks that trip, in point of fact) but what mostly stuck with me about the hotel, other than the broken elevator and the winding staircases, was this view, from our tiny bathroom.
As I looked out the window, I remember thinking that this must have been what it was like to be in La Boheme, minus the consumption. I wanted to live in a garret, be a starving artist, and be able to look out at the city every night.

Well, the opera was awesome, as these opera performances tend to be--I'm so, so glad I go to a school with a world-renowned opera program. Almost better than the music, which was great, was the SETS. I've never seen such sets. The sets were such that one of my friends punched me in the arm at one point because we both were so pumped. The sets rotated as they were singing--the balcony of the Parisian garret turned and became the dingy interior of the poor artist and poet's apartment.
Most impressively, this rooftop apartment moved offstage, the lights dimmed, a rumbling could be heard, and a NEW set moved forward. Suddenly there was a cafe scene, complete with a bridge, and a marching band, at least 50 cast-members, and even vendor's carts. The audience burst into applause. Check out more of the sets here.
One of the reasons why I like operas is because they force you to suspend belief. Over the course of 2 1/2 hours, I had to believe that people could fall in love instantly, that hearts could be quickly broken and mended, that bohemians lived together by conning their landlord, and that sometimes things just end in sadness no matter how much we want them not to. When Mimi died, it was unnoticed by the other protagonists for a little while, but the audience knew--the girl behind me hissed, "NO!" And when Ridolfo notices that his friends can't meet his eyes (they've realized she's died) he exclaims in this extraordinary, anguished outburst. My Italian isn't good enough to translate it exactly, but even if you'd never heard Italian before it wouldn't matter, you just know that it sounds like loss, like pain, like anger. And then he stalked outside, and stood in what suddenly had become the chilly Parisian air, with snow falling, and just stood there as the curtain went down. I had chills, one of my friends was crying, and the entire theater was silent.

Other music doesn't have this affect on me, and I don't know what it is about opera that causes me to have a more emotional connection. And I know it's not like this for all people--I've heard the argument that it's too flashy, too substantial, too earthly to really be something transcendent or moving. And I suppose in some ways that is true. I think perhaps there is a corollary between those of us who like Baroque Art and those of us who also like opera--a longing for something so excessively beautiful that it sometimes hurts. You feel too much, if that makes sense. There are parts of Marriage of Figaro that are so stunningly perfect that they make me tear up, not because they're sad, but because they are so lovely that they make you feel something, deeply.

I don't know that much about opera, truth be told. I can tell bad singers from good ones, and I'm getting better at hearing differences in different versions (like I can now--sort of!--do with wine) and different singers approaches. I really can't name any favorite singers, other than Jussi Bjorling, but to me that's not really the important part. The important part is that for 2 1/2 hours, the whole audience was transported to Paris, to a garret full of starving artists and a cafe full of wine and song. To see a relationship come together and fall apart, to hear declarations of love and heartbreak. So much pathos, and so much beauty.

Here are two scenes from movies that evidence my feelings pretty perfectly, Philadelphia and the Shawshank Redemption. I remember once, my sister and I went to see Cosi Fan Tutte, and the old man next to us was so delighted by everything that was happening that he'd laugh for a good 10 seconds longer than everyone else, which was cracking ME up. There was a great set change there too, and he spontaneously started clapping, just like people did this past Friday. I glanced over at him, and his face was so happy. That's why I like opera.

Ogres

Some friends and I went to see Shrek: The Musical tonight, and before you judge me, let me just say that it was so fun. Yes, the songs were fairly forgettable, and if you've never seen the movie you'd probably not like it, but the message is really good: not judging people based on their appearance and knowing that being different is ok, and people will still love you. If you're in your mid-20s or younger, you probably grew up knowing about Shrek. It's never been one of my favorite movies, but it does have its moments. The audience was a mix of parents with young kids and college kids--we were next to a couple frat-y looking guys who had a great time.

And the special effects! The dragon was a 25 foot long PUPPET, there were strobe lights and awesome make-up and suits of armor and all sorts of fun things. There were quite a few "adult" jokes, and some sneaky broadway references--I caught ones to Gypsy, West Side Story and Wicked, and the BEST one: Donkey and Shrek are walking along and the background is moving behind them, and suddenly the Lion King music started and a giraffe and some birds popped out for a bit and then ran off. Awesome.

For 2 hours, I didn't think about all my reading, lesson planning, or non-written statements of purpose, and just enjoyed feeling like a kid and looking at really amazing set designs. I love art history, but without occasional bouts of music (musicals, symphonies, operas) I really do think I would lose my sanity.

As one of my friends summed it up during intermission: "today is a great day. You got a giant fake check [sidenote: I did. It's not that giant, but it is bigger than a notebook. I do not know what to do with this, it's laminated and has the museum as the background. The suggestions so far are: frame it, stick a bunch of magnets on the back to make a big magnet, or turn it into the world's largest coaster.] L brought Nerds for us to eat, and A is texting a boy. And we just saw a giant singing dragon." And that pretty much sums it up!

La Boheme tomorrow night! Maybe I will remain sane after all...

Survived!

Talks are over, and I did pretty well! I didn't get that many questions, and I can't tell if that is good or bad, but in any case, it's over! This is a cool competition, endowed by some long-ago fund at the museum. You apply to present research, and so four of us got it this year. The topics were on a Hellenic krater, a portrait of Mrs Chinnery by Elizabeth Vigee le Brun, one of John Marin's etchings of the Brooklyn Bridge, and Howard Chandler Christy's book illustrations (me!). I was in really good company--everyone else did a great job. Whoever wins gets $600, and everyone else gets a $125 gift certificate to the fine arts bookstore. And let me tell you, there are some CUTE earrings in that bookstore! There are four judges, and you are judged based on your scholarliness (a real word?), originality of research, and presentation. My friends brought both cookies AND cupcakes, so there were treats involved--I'm glad I'm with such collegial people!

I'm in the process of making butternut squash soup, the best around--the recipe is courtesy of one of my ex-professors (Dunbar! for those of you who know him) and it's got orange rind and curry and lots of amazingness in it. The last time I made it I exploded it out of my blender and burned myself, but I now have an immersion blender, so maybe fewer injuries this time around. I might even go crazy and make a bacon and grilled cheese sandwich. Then I'm going to read my current fun book (A Connecticut Yankee in King Arthur's Court) and The Grinch is on (the old, good one) then a Masterpiece Theater with the divine Emma Thompson and the even more divine Alan Rickman. Tomorrow it's back to business as usual, although oddly I do have dinner invites or shows planned for almost every night next week. A social life?! Me?! Sweet. Two phone interviews in there, too, so it'll be the usual busy time, too. But for now--whew. One thing over.

Jitters

I'm giving a presentation tomorrow on a few early 20th-century illustrations from our collection and how they present a nostalgic, idealized view of women (and the implications of this), so it's rather ironic that I just spent the last 20 minutes plucking my eyebrows. I'll probably wear mascara tomorrow, too. And heels. Idealization of women, alive and well.

The paper is written, the images are picked, I've thought a bit about some questions that may arise (that is the scariest part!), and I've got my outfit chosen--purple tights, of course, though I'm not sure on a scarf.

It's odd the rituals we have when something kind of big is coming up, and I've actually gotten tremendously better at dealing with talking in front of people--teaching and seminars are making that a lot less scary. Still nervous, but I'm not pacing. Yet. I'm going to reward myself for doing this with Ethiopian food next week and seeing Shrek the Musical with some friends. I'll cook a big breakfast tomorrow morning, listen to some show tunes, and try to distract myself as much as possible.

This isn't really an important post, but this paper and archival research are the main things that I've accomplished this week. So I should have more exciting things to report in the next few days, but for now: a view into the scarier aspects of academia! Send me good vibes tomorrow at about 1 pm, and I'm going to go back to watching Iron Jawed Angels. I get to talk about suffrage, Mary Wollstonecraft, and Mad Men in this paper--and really, what is better than that?

Don't Stop Me Now

Tonight, for the first time in about a month, I didn't have any specific work to do. There is so much on the horizon that I could start on, but really, nights off need to happen. They haven't been happening lately, and I miss 'em. In the past two weeks I have: written a 13 page seminar paper and presented it to my class, written a 15 page paper to be presented on Sunday at a lecture competition thing (more on that later, maybe, if I survive. Since my advisor is looking over it now I have a few days of not dealing with it), had two phone chat/interviews with two professors that I would like to work with in different PhD programs, emailed three other professors to see if they'd like to set up interviews, went out for Halloween, graded 40 quizzes, lesson planned, had my teaching observed by my supervising professor (which went well, I was very happy about it), co-planned our biennial art history association (AHA) booksale, re-dyed part of my hair purple, and slept, but not enough.

So what did I do tonight? Well, as I'm typing this, I have a giant pot of applesauce cookin' on the stove, and cooked up a bunch of cabbage and bacon for dinner. I haven't bought meat in probably 9 months, but I just really wanted bacon today, so I got some! Wonderful comfort-y food. I plan to have so much brinner this week. I dealt with some old receipts, cleaned my purse(s), although my desk is still a disaster, and submitted all the payment requests for AHA (I'm the treasurer, despite genuinely being godawful at math). I'm planning to watch a few episodes of Twin Peaks (SO GOOD, I'm a tiny bit obsessed) and head to bed.

But for the moment I am confident that I will get everything done this semester. Yes, I may be writing my theory paper ON Thanksgiving (not-going-to-think-about-it) and I have yet to write any personal statements or request transcripts or GRE scores or...the list goes on. And on. But in the words of the great Freddie Mercury, Don't Stop Me Now!

Eating, Fall Style

I love Fall for so many reasons: the smell of leaves, getting to wear sweaters, cider, the acceptability of putting pumpkin in everything, the approach of Christmas, SCARVES, warm blankets, and the list goes on (and on). Food and drinks are a major part of all this--I love making pumpkin bread, drinking lots of tea, mulling hot cider (or wine!), and comfort food in all its guises, usually involving cheese. Here are three recipes that I've been making a lot recently. I tend to modify everything I make, because I either don't like an ingredient (lima beans) or don't have an ingredient (nutmeg, usually), so take these recipes with a grain of salt!

Carolina Vegetable Soup
--I like this recipe because you don't have to buy stock, and the bbq sauce and Tabasco make it jazzy. I am really picky about soup--it either has to be pureed with no chunks, or something very thick like a stew, chowder, gazpacho, or chili. I don't like soup with noodles. I don't like soup with chicken (usually). I look at soups more as an excuse to eat bread. However--I have a really excellent soup book, compiled of recipes from friends, and this is a great one, courtesy of my father, via Moosewood. My college friends dubbed this the Caravaggio Soup, because two of us made it for our seminar once and then we had SO MUCH LEFT that our whole house ended up eating it for a week. And I just had a bowl for lunch!

3 Tbsp vegetable oil

2 cups chopped onions

3 garlic cloves, minced or pressed

1 cup peeled and chopped carrots

1 cup peeled and cubed sweet potatoes (1 whole one)

1/2 cup chopped celery

1 1/2 cups chopped zucchini (if you can find one)

1 cup fresh, frozen, or canned lima beans

3/4 cup frozen corn kernels

1 1/2 cups chopped fresh tomatoes (1 can -14 oz or so - of crushed tomatoes would work)

1/2 tsp fresh thyme (1/4 tsp dried)

1/4 cup barbeque sauce

4 cups water

1 tsp salt

1/2 tsp ground black pepper

2 Tbsp chopped fresh parsley

Tabasco sauce or other hot pepper sauce to taste

2 Tbsp shopped fresh basil (optional)

chopped scallions

--In a large soup pot, warm the oil on medium heat and sauté the onions and garlic until the onions are translucent, about 10 minutes.

--Add the carrots, sweet potatoes, and celery and sauté for 3 minutes. Add the zucchini, lima beans, corn, tomatoes, thyme, and barbeque sauce. Stir for a minute and then add the water, salt, and black pepper.

--Cover and bring to a boil; then reduce the heat to low and cook for 20 minutes. About 5 minutes before serving, add the parsley, Tabasco sauce, and, if you wish, the basil.

--Serve topped with chopped scallions.

Pumpkin Mac & Cheese

This is good. This is really, really good. Not really helping my joint obsession with pumpkin and with cheese, but there we are. I made it once with sweet potatoes, and that is also good--but better with pumpkin, I think.

8 oz uncooked macaroni or other pasta, preferably whole wheat or whole wheat blend pasta

1 cup pumpkin puree

1 cup 1% low-fat milk

2 oz (about 4 Tbsp) 1/3-less-fat neufchatel creamcheese

1 cup freshly grated 50% reduced fat sharp cheddar cheese

1/2 cup freshly grated gruyere cheese (can sub in any good melting cheese, such as monterey jack)

1/8 tsp ground nutmeg

1/8 – 1/4 tsp ground cayenne pepper, or more depending on heat preference

Kosher salt and freshly ground black pepper, to taste

--Cook pasta according to package directions.

--Meanwhile, whisk together and heat pumpkin puree and milk in a medium saucepan over medium heat until hot.

--Reduce stove heat to low. Whisk in cheeses until fully melted.

--Stir in nutmeg and cayenne. Season with salt and pepper.

--Stir drained pasta into the pumpkin-cheese sauce and mix until thoroughly combined.

--At this point, the mac & cheese might appear a bit soupy. If this is the case, let the mixture sit off of the heat for a few minutes. The cheese sauce will firm up as it slightly cools.

--Serve with an extra dusting of nutmeg, if desired.

Roasted Corn with Manchego and Lime (courtesy of Epicurious)

I usually half this recipe, and replace the jalapeno with a bell pepper, the chives with scallions, and the Manchego with a little mayonnaise. This makes it resemble street corn, which I would get in Brooklyn whenever humanly possible. Also, I never have red pepper flakes on hand, so I either use chili powder or omit it. This is a good recipe for corn country--and roasting makes corn REALLY easy to peel.

6 ears of sweet yellow corn, unhusked
2 tablespoons extra-virgin olive oil
2 tablespoons (1/4 stick) unsalted butter
Kosher salt
freshly ground black pepper
1 jalapeño, seeded, finely diced
1/2 teaspoon crushed red pepper flakes
1 lime, cut into 4 wedges
1 cup finely grated Manchego cheese
1/4 cup thinly sliced chives
2 teaspoons finely grated lime zest

Preheat oven to 450°. Roast unhusked corn on a baking sheet, turning occasionally, until heated through and crisp-tender, about 15 minutes. Let cool. Shuck corn and cut kernels from cobs. Discard cobs.

Heat oil in a large skillet over high heat. Add corn kernels and sauté until heated through and light-golden in spots, 3–5 minutes. Add butter; stir until melted.

Season to taste with salt and pepper. Transfer corn to a large wide bowl or deep platter; sprinkle jalapeño and crushed red pepper flakes over. Squeeze lime wedges over; sprinkle with cheese, chives, and lime zest.

A View From the Bridge

Sometimes, I really miss Brooklyn. I lived there for a little over a year, and sometimes there is nothing I want more than to people-watch in Prospect Park, wander Brighton Beach, eat falafels in the Slope while ambling by the brownstones, read a book on the promenade, visit with the guys at the corner-store, hear Eye of the Storm screaming by on their firetruck, and most of all get Thai food and curl up with a quilt with my cousin and watch Mad Men. I even sometimes miss the guy who played the guitar on the street by our place who would always serenade us, yelling about how our beauty was like the stars in the sky, the meth addicts loitering in front of our place with their stories (we lived next door to a methadone clinic), and the shenanigans that transpired on the buses. And sometimes I do not miss it at all--the compressed feeling, like sardines in a can, that you get when you are surrounded by people ALL THE TIME, the noise, the poverty that is always around you and that you can't ignore (and shouldn't, actually), the grumpiness, and how packed the subways are at rush hour.

Tonight, I went and saw A View From the Bridge, which is what prompted these Brooklyn musings. I was not that excited about this opera going in, for two major reasons:

1. I am a snob and am not that fond of modern and/or English-language operas. This one was first written and performed in 1999, so it was quite new, and I had doubts. Things just don't *sound* as good in English. Which is biased, because if you were fluent in Italian, more traditional opera dialogue would be just as dumb, but in English it just seems so banal. "Eddie, what are you doing?" "You can never have her", etc. Of course, my favorite duet from The Marriage of Figaro is about two women writing a letter, but it's different because I don't *really* know what they are saying. Modern operas try really hard to be dissonant sometimes, too, so it's not something I'd want to listen to for fun.

2. A View From the Bridge was originally an Arthur Miller play, which was adapted into an opera. I can't handle Arthur Miller. I cry every time. We had to read The Crucible and Death of a Salesman in high school, and if that wasn't bad enough, in my sophomore year in college, I took an intro to sociology class with mandatory movies every Sunday night [most work I'd done up to that point, worst grade I ever got in college. One of the most important, wonderful classes I've every taken], and we had to watch Death of a Salesman. With Dustin Hoffman in it. I cried, WAY too much. (because how many Willy Loman's do you know, people who defer and defer the American Dream until it's too late? It's heartbreaking.) ANYWAY, I swore that I was not dealing with Miller again, but got tricked into this opera.

And I have to now eat my words, because it was stupendous. Yes, the music was not my favorite. Yes, I will never be a huge cheerleader for modern operas, but I have never witnessed a musical, play, or opera, that was as suspenseful as this one was. I didn't know the plot beforehand, which helped a lot. It was all crazy and Sicilian, with incest (not sure if that's as explicit in the play), and kiss of death and spitting, and having to defend your honor. Very mob-heavy, depressing yet interesting. As someone who find displays of machismo completely unattractive (in fact, the exact opposite of the men I usually am interested in), for some reason I have an odd fascination with the mob. It was a very good adaptation of the play, and some of the music was actually really good--an aria about New York, and the very dramatic crowd scene, in particular. It was sad that the theater was so empty--it's homecoming weekend and Halloween weekend, so that might help explain it, but I think people often don't want to give modern opera a chance. This opera opened my eyes to how good modern opera can be, so I'd definitely encourage people to check them out when they can!

A View From the Bridge is set in Red Hook, Brooklyn, where I don't think you can actually see the Brooklyn Bridge (slight problem with the title!) but still. Red Hook is an enigma. You can't get there by subway, so you have to take the bus. It's full of trendy-ish coffee places and dilapidated warehouses. It's the site of the Brooklyn-Battery Tunnel, and the only place in Brooklyn where you can see the Statue of Liberty head on. I worked in Red Hook for about six weeks, doing arguably the weirdest job I've ever had. I was scanning 1950's military plans from France, as well as preparing documents from doctors offices to get them ready to be scanned. So basically, I spent 8 hours a day at $10 an hour taking staples out of things and listening to NPR. One of my friends referred to this as my "Bartleby the Scrivener phase" and she was so not wrong. I also re-designed their website for a few days, and wrote copy for the owner's father's business, which was in personalizing things like golf-balls and leather satchels. Totally weird.

The best part about working in Red Hook was that there was a great grocery store across from my warehouse, so I would go over there and get a pecan roll to have after my lunch. I was working there through May and June, so it was just becoming warm, and I would go sit on the dock, my back on the warm brick building, eat my roll and look at Lady Liberty. At the end of the day, I'd take the bus to Borough Hall, and walk through downtown to my subway stop, passing the street vendors with their used books and wooden bracelets, the Bubble Man--who used bubble wands the size of my face to blow giant bubbles, the nurses and businesspeople, the deli where I used to grab a bagel sometimes, and the musicians outside Borough Hall. I miss that, sometimes.

Best song about Red Hook (I think) is Joey, by Bob Dylan, about Crazy Joe Gallo, mobster and murder-victim. The mob-culture of honor and respect is central to A View From the Bridge, and I think it was central to Red Hook at one time, too. Dylan's song ends after Joey has been shot down in Little Italy, and summarizes a lot of these themes well:

The sun turned cold over President Street and the town of Brooklyn mourned
They said a mass in the old church near the house where he was born
And someday if God’s in heaven overlookin’ His preserve
I know the men that shot him down will get what they deserve

Joey, Joey
King of the streets, child of clay
Joey, Joey
What made them want to come and blow you away?

This Post Is Not Exciting

...but then again, neither am I!

Have been getting some flack from my family lately for having boring updates (they are not wrong) but I also just don't have that much to talk about that is amazingly gripping. So that's why I'm posting right now, even though I have nothing amazingly gripping to tell you. I had a nice day. A fullfilling day. Here's what it was:

--taught my classes in the museum today, while wearing boots with a 3 inch heel. I'm not a heels person. I was bequeathed these boots when a friend moved to Texas and decided not to take them, and they were too cute to be tossed. And, surprisingly comfortable! They allow me to pretend I am tall, and made lovely clacking noises on the wood floors of the museum.

--my students were actually pretty invested in doing visual analysis and I think they had fun. I cracked some Harry Potter jokes and they laughed. They asked tons of questions about adoration of the magi scenes (that's what we were looking at) and actually came up with some theories about a still life and it made me feel like I was actually TEACHING them something. I'm so glad we have the resources to see works in person, it really does make things more exciting. Yes, the works aren't amazing, but I could relate brushwork back to van der Weyden and van Eyck and they GOT the connections. And when we're outside such a strict classroom setting, I feel like I can let some of my generally nerdy-goofy personality out, and bond a little bit, which seemed to happen. Also, two random guys sort of hung out at the back of my class and when we were moving galleries I told them that it wasn't a tour, and that they were welcome to hang out with us but they shouldn't feel obligated, and they said, "oh ok! we just thought you were interesting." Huh.

--met with my advisor, who was supportive about my list of possible PhD schools and basically told me I was on point with everything I needed to be doing, which was very nice. And while I love everyone who has told me over the years about the likelihood of me getting a job (hint: not statistically likely!) or of how hard graduate school is, I am getting just the tiniest bit tired of hearing that. It's true, I know it's true. I can stand not to think about that right now, though. He said none of those things today, and didn't try to talk me out of pursuing a PhD, which was what I needed to hear.

--got an inter-library loan book, all in Italian, and I could read parts of it! It's about 16th century convertite houses in Venice (houses built to hold reformed prostitutes). This probably sounds pretty boring, but I was so stoked.

--came home, discovered that Inspector Lewis (aka the best, most stylish, emotionally wrenching, and funny British detective show around) was available on Netflix, and watched an episode from the comfort of my bed. SUCH a good show. SUCH a good way to spend the late Friday afternoon.

--got dinner at a Mexican restaurant (enchiladas with tomatillo salsa, rice, large-ish margarita) with a few friends and ended up staying for three hours, talking and catching up. We so often revert to art history-related shop-talk that it's nice to not do that for a few hours. Also, Shields and Brooks were on TV in the restaurant and I admitted my never-ending love for both of them and got totally mocked (for good reason--feel free to mock me too). But they're so good! I like watching them talk with Jim Lehrer and be SENSIBLE about things, it makes me feel so much better about politics.

--now I'm back in bed, listening to the Firebird Suite (MMM) getting ready to do a little reading (oh, Friday night! oh, theory! sad) and then go to bed--have pumpkin bread and pumpkin carving related plans for tomorrow, and couldn't be happier about that.

Night!

Art of the Week: 17th Century Dutch

As many of you know, I am an Italianist. Probably always will be. That does not mean, however, that I don't love Northern European art almost as much, because I do! If someone forced me upon pain of death to pick a favorite artist, it would certainly have to be Vermeer. I've recently been realizing how much I like Northern art, especially from the 17th century, because I am a TA for a professor who does 16th Northern (Flemish, I think), and so does the other TA, so they have been slowly working on me. And mocking my Italian ways. For example: we take turns designing lesson plans for sections, and then meeting once a week to discuss them. I keep putting in Italians. So this week:

Professor: [mock dismissive sigh, upon seeing the Pesaro Altarpiece that I'd chosen to start with] what's WITH you and all these Italians?

Me: I have to get them in somewhere.

Professor: I talk about them in class! We did the Sistene Ceiling...last week.

Me: You don't pick any Italians that I like!! [he cracked up]

Later on we decided to keep the Pesaro (as well we should, it's MAGNIFICENT, though he made me cut the Gentileschi) because as he stated, "The Pesaro is a great work of art, not *just* for an Italian, but for art history in general." I think my response was probably, "gee, thanks a lot."

There are a lot of amazing aspects of Northern Art that I sort of knew about but not really, which is why having to sit in on this Art 102 class is so helpful. The fabrics, for one thing. The textural attention to detail, which promotes prolonged looking, means that you have to spend time with these works, to figure them out, to get to know them. My classes get to visit the museum tomorrow, and one of the works we'll be looking at is a Flemish Adoration of the Magi. Two friends and I spent 1/2 an hour in front of it yesterday, just staring at the jewels on the Magis gifts, the gold weave in the cloth, and the lines in peoples hands. (And getting yelled at for being too close. Whoops!)

So here are some works that I've encountered in class or lectures in the past few days. I'm not going to talk too much about them, because if they could be explained by words they wouldn't have been painted. Also, I totally recommend that you check out the Rijksmuseum's website--amazing high resolution photographs of works.

It's a grey day, we're under a wind advisory, and it's been raining straight since Monday. I have cramps, and am cuddled up under a blanket--one major perk about grad school is that if you do not have class on certain days (and Thursdays I don't) you can do a lot of work from the comfort of your bed, in sweatpants. And pretend you are in Belgium, where according to my professor you can "eat leek soup that is about a pound of butter and a pound of cream for every three leeks, and waffles that are dripping with goodness and are the size of your face." Works for me. (And the art ain't half bad, either!)

Vermeer, The Milkmaid (or The Kitchen Maid) c. 1658

I encourage you to open a larger view and look at the milk. And the bread. And the buttons on her bodice. Also, Vermeer painted nail holes in walls, to show where nails had been and then removed. If that doesn't scream "prolonged looking," I don't know what does.

Vermeer, The Love Letter, c. 1669-70
The wall on the left has creepy stains on it. I just went to a lecture on this painting. If you look at it sideways, like as if you were approaching it from an oblique angle, the perspective changes in cool ways.

Judith Leyster, Self-Portrait, 1630ish.
I know this is one of her best known works, but I wrote about it last year, and love it. Her flower paintings are spectacular, as are her human scenes, although those are sometimes a mixed bag. (If peoples cheeks are too ruddy, it annoys me.)
Frans Hals, The Laughing Cavalier, 1624.
We spent some time on this in 102 this week. Is he really laughing? Or is he really just kind of sceptically smirking at us? If you look at the details of his brocaded sleeve (gosh, so gorgeous) you can see little swords and bees. So maybe, he is acknowledging that life is hard, but it is more pricks (beestings) than kicks (like, being stabbed). And that once we acknowledge that, like the Epicureans, we can LIVE. Because it's what we've got, and we might as well live with what we have. (This argument is for anyone who thinks portraiture is just a pretty picture of a pretty person. Although, the lace in this one is so stunning, that I find myself focusing on that.) Frans Hals cheeks are also sometimes TOO ruddy. Am I too picky?

Samuel van Hoogstraten, View of an Interior (or The Slippers), 1654-1662
This is another work which I saw recently discussed in terms of Dutch perspectival inventions. It's a view into another room, and probably would have hung in a hall, giving more dimensions to the hall itself, too. van Hoogstraten is also known for his work with perspective boxes, so there seems to be something about that here too.
Rembrandt van Rijn, Self-Portrait, 1665-69.
There are entire books about Rembrandt's self-portraits (with good reason!!) and they are probably my favorites of his works, although I do love most of his paintings. Especially this one. He's so frank in his gaze that it makes me sad, the aging artist who grew up in front of his viewers (there are something like 76 known self-portraits that he completed). The circles behind him may represent his artistic skill, the ability to draw a free-hand circle, even at an advanced age. I can't draw a free-hand circle now.

Pieter Claesz, Still-Life with Herring, 1636.
Couldn't end without a still-life! And there are so many more. We looked at this in class. Herring = aphrodisiac. Fun fact.

Rewards (and FOOD)

I finished grading my students first papers! (which were a mixed bag, in case you were curious). I was able to do all 50 of them in 4 days, but those 4 days were not overly fun, and involved me going to bed at 2 last night, getting up at 7, and grading until 11 this morning. BUT, they are done, and I celebrated this afternoon by going for a long walk in the crisp fall air, getting a few shirts and a pair of yoga pants at the mall, treating myself to new bodywash (nectarine and ginger! Dove, mmm), and going to Bloomingfoods. There are 3 Bloomingfoods, which is the co-op grocery store, here. I don't go there enough to justify belonging to the co-op, but one of my friends does, so I just use her number (which means she'll get more discounts eventually).

Bloomingfoods is an amazing place, with some phenomenal people watching--it's a fun mix of very, very hippie-types, trendy 20-somethings, and professors. It's also very organic, health-conscious, and therefore usually quite out of my budget. But today was one of their tent sales, where they erect a huge white tent in the parking lot and put all of their overstocked goods out there at really good prices. It's a mad house, especially right when it opens, but it had calmed down a bit by the time I got there. So what did I acquire?
--sweet potato and apple chips
--organic white cheddar popcorn
--pitted dates
--3 honeycrisp apples (I am really, really picky about apples, being from upstate NY and being snobby about apples. Bloomingfoods is one of the few places in town that carries apples that I really like, probably because they are locally grown.)
--German sparkling apple cider
--2 liters of sweet tea
--organic cranberry pecan cookies
--a bar of milk chocolate with lime
--a bar of dark chocolate with chilies
--an Asian pear
--fresh mozzarella
--2 avocados
Cost: $21.

Now, I did indeed just list you my grocery list, most of which was impulse buys, but there you are. Tonight, two of my friends are coming over for dinner--one is making lentil loaf (aka, vegetarian meatloaf), the other is making a grape salad, and I'm making tomato, basil and mozzarella salad, and taking some leftover rice crispies, pouring melted chocolate over it, and sprinkling it with sea salt. We're going to do homework--and really, the best way to do homework is with friends and food. Yesterday I taught for 3 hours, then graded, then went to two lectures back to back (both of which were phenomenally good, on viewing 17th century Dutch art and Iranian posters from the Revolution), and then went out to dinner with three friends, where we all acted very silly. I think probably because most of us had been on campus for 11 hours by that point, and had had to be "academic" all day, so we just sat around giggling about nothing. It was wonderful. Friends and food--those are the rewards I need.

And most importantly, HAPPY BIRTHDAY MOM!!!

Floundering

I'm here, I really am. And will have fun blog posts coming up soonsoonsoon, I promise--Jon Stewart, and Hair (the American Tribal Love-Rock Musical), and food news and reviews (especially pertaining to corn and other vegetarian delights), and so much more! But for now, bear with me--I'm floundering, mostly in a pile of papers I have yet to grade, research I have not completed (or started), PhD applications that I really need to give some thought (and money) to, and all of the emails and cards from family and friends that I need--and want!!--to respond to. I have so much to do that I realized today that I am not sure I will be able to go home for Thanksgiving, and that would make me indescribably sad.

In spite of school-related crazy, I'm still really happy here, rest assured. One of my best friends from college was here this weekend, and we had a really great time. She's awesome. We ate a lot and drank much cider and football-ed and I re-messed up my ankle but it seems to have healed itself (fingers crossed) and she got to meet my friends here. It was wonderful to see her. I've been getting to school by 8, eating my breakfast in the dark, and trying to stay on top of work, but it is not working out that well. I'm barely keeping up with grading and planning for my students, and have made no progress on *my* work, which is starting to freak me out a bit. Everyone told me grad school would be like this, and it finally is. And that's ok, I just have to figure out my schedule, cut out 90% of the fun things that I do, and keep calm and carry on.

I heard an anecdote once about a German academic from the 18th century (I think) and was rumored to have been crushed by the books in his library. I heard this anecdote from my undergrad advisor, because I told her I was worried about her bookshelves collapsing on her--if you saw her bookshelves, you would understand this fear. So I don't know if it is true, but in any case, it is an acceptable analogy for many academics. I'm not to the crushing point yet, although the books are lookin' a little wobbly. But if I do get buried by them, at least I'll have something to read.

So bear with me. Send me scholarly vibes, and I'll be writing very soon--I have NO social plans this weekend for the first time since August and am actually rather delighted about it, so there may be some blogging coming your way!

Thus Do They All

I saw Così fan tutte [Thus do they all, or, Women are like that] two days ago. It's one of my favorite operas, not so much because of the plot, but more because of the sheer gorgeousness of the music--that Mozart knew what he was doing. I love any of the three Mozart-da Ponte collaborations, but in comparison to the others, the plot of Così is pretty sexist, and is actually rather thin. There is really not much action, although there is the usual requisite amount of cross-dressing, which is always a fun time.

Basically, it goes like this: two officers, Ferrando and Guglielmo, are bet by their older (and wiser?) friend, Don Alfonso, that their fiancés are fickle, like all women, and would not be faithful to them if left to their own devices. The men reluctantly agree to try and scheme their fiancés to see if they will be unfaithful, so they go with Don Alfonso and tell the women, Dorabella and Fiordiligi (side note: is that not the greatest name ever??) that they have been called to war. Then, they double back, dressed as Albanians, and seduce the opposite one's fiancé, who, of course, succumbs. For what it's worth, Fiordiligi has a bit more moral fiber than her sister (and also some great arias), but eventually they both "cheat" on their fiancés, who are also cheating on THEM, if you think about it. At the end, the men reveal themselves, after a lot of clothes swapping and scheming from Don Alfonso and the tricksy maid Despina, who steals the show. They ultimately forgive each other, of course, and they go back to their original partners. Although--I think they should have stayed with the people they switched for. Actually, our production ended rather ambiguously, as they moved back to their original couplings, but seemed conflicted about it. It was an oddly uncomedic ending for an oddly comic work.

As I said, I'm not wild about the plot, but the music is so good that I don't really care. Listen here and here and here and here!! IU, as usual, did a wonderful job. I went with two friends, after a lovely Vietnamese meal. The Despina our night was fantastic, as was Ferrando in particular, although the entire cast was great. They updated the set to late 19th century Florida, and it worked quite well--it wasn't a drastic enough change to totally modify the mood of the opera as a whole. I cracked up inopportunely twice, the first time because one line was about "mustaches being feathers of love," which made us giggle, and the second because Dorabella was kissing Guglielmo, and my friend jabbed me in the ribs with her elbow and hissed "hussy," which also made me laugh. It is a funny opera in general though! Any downsides? The woman behind me coughed on my hair for the entire overture, and the plot made me think about something that I didn't really want to think about: my sexism.

I think the general sexism of this opera was more nagging this time because I have found myself being rather sexist lately, which is something that I am usually not. (Because being a feminist means that you think the sexes are equal, not that women are better than men.) Mostly this stems from the fact that my friends have not been having good luck with men lately. My general relationship prospectives are usually so non-existent that I don't really count in this, but there have been some really stupid moves made by some of the men that I interact with, especially in the way that some of my friends have been treated. So I have been finding myself dismissing all males in their mid-20s off-hand as egotistical, poisonous, and self-centered, or slackers who are looking for a meal ticket, or workaholic grad students who are too busy and/or dismissive to deal with their feelings (or lack thereof). This generalization is not fair. Some of my friends are in lovely relationships, and I have nothing to personally complain about. At the same time though, my gut reaction is to write off men my age as unreliable, fickle, and changeable, which is EXACTLY what Don Alfonso argued about women.

Not all men are fickle, and not all women are either. Perhaps that is the overall message to take from Così fan tutte. We're all just people, no better than each other, trying to pick our way through dating minefields, schoolwork, bills, and hormones, to find out about each other. Thus do we all. And best of luck to us.

To quote Regina Spektor, in her excellent song Ghost of Corporate Future:

"And people are just people,
They shouldn't make you nervous.
The world is everlasting,
It's coming and it's going.
If you don't toss your plastic,
The streets won't be so plastic.
And if you kiss somebody,
Then both of you'll get practice.

The world is everlasting
Put dirtballs in your pocket,
Put dirtballs in your pocket,
And take off both your shoes.
'Cause people are just people,
People are just people,
People are just people like you."

The Early Bird

If you know me well, you know that I am not a morning person. I'm actually not a late night person either. I'm the most productive at around 10 am, and my ideal wake-up time is therefore at about 8, with my ideal bedtime at around 11:30. Yet, this morning I decided to try something else--I set my alarm for 6:20 (mergh) and was on campus by 7:30. And it was actually...really great. It was the perfect early morning cool temperature on my walk through campus, the art building was deserted so I got to crank Regina Spektor in my office, I printed 8 articles without having to wait for a printer, and managed to lesson plan some powerpoints before class at 9.

The reason behind going to campus in the dark was that I've become really unproductive at night. I blame the fact that I'm usually on campus for 8-9 hours straight a day now, and when I get to my apartment I either immediately go for a long walk or watch 30 Rock (which is now on syndication, no good), before making dinner, and climbing into bed with a mystery, crossword puzzle, or phone (or all 3).

Since I got to campus at 7:30, I didn't feel bad about not going back after a hair appointment at 3. I had the blue streak in my hair touched up, which meant that I got to sit there for 45 minutes and read cheeseball celebrity magazines, and then got my hair washed and dried and went on my way. I've said it before and I'll say it again: if I ever become a fascist dictator (unlikely), the only perk I want is a daily head massage and hair washing. I went grocery shopping, entered some grades, ate some quiche, and am watching 30 Rock (of course) as I type this. Tomorrow is full of meetings, lesson plans, laundry--and I'm ok with that.

And on that note, it is 8:30, and my bed is calling.

Edited: I did not go to bed at 8:30 (it's 10:15ish now). Instead, I ate some ice cream, a friend popped by for a visit, I talked on the phone, dealt with some dirty dishes, and jumped around on my exercise ball for a bit. For real going to bed now though! (Might push my alarm back to 7, hmm.)

Strange Fruit

The Lotus Festival is this weekend and I am going tomorrow--and will hopefully write more on that later! Lotus is a world music festival that is here every fall and everyone gets SUPER jazzed about it. I was sick last year and so slept through it, but I am really looking forward to checking out events tomorrow. (I'm also going to a big cat rescue center in the morning--like, with lions and lynxes and such. Tomorrow should be awesome.)

Anyway, as a precursor to Lotus there have been some events on campus, and today outside the Art Museum was a performance by an Australia group named Strange Fruit. Two friends and I ventured outside to watch, and they were so cool! It is three women and they do a performance art that is a combination of acrobatics, dance, and high-wire walking, all set to various types of classical music. It is hard to describe. They each have a 14 foot long flexible pole, which is affixed to the ground. They each shimmy up their pole, while wearing what look like bloomers, bustiers, and really elaborate hair styles. One had a Tower of Pisa shaped building balanced in her hair, and they all had a lot of gold and glittery eye make-up. Once they get to the top of the pole, they lock their legs into an apparatus so they stay put, and then pull up these hoop-skirts from the ground and put them on, so in the end they resemble bells. And then they spin and flop back and forth, sometimes in unison and sometimes not, and sometimes acting out scenes. Here is a video of what they did today, titled The Three Belles. Here is another video of the same program, but in a different setting.

It was such a surreal looking thing: three belles who look like...bells, floating through the air with seemingly no effort at all. All in front of our museum, with people milling around--older folk, little kids, students, etc. The sky was perfect, blue with puffy white clouds, and floating women. It was, actually, pretty magical.

My day could have used some magical, truth be told. I made a student cry by giving her (really, really gentle) criticism about the first draft of her paper. We *told* them to pick one thesis and stick with and she had six, so I told her she had to commit to one. Which then made her paper a lot shorter, so she started panicking and then started crying. I got on my kindest tone and told her that everything would be okay and that we could look at her object for awhile and come up with some ideas together. [their assignment is to analyze an "unknown" object visually and then hypothesize about its use. The objects are "unknown" because the professor lied about the dimensions and the materials so they really can't look anything up, and then he tells them the real purpose of the objects at the end of the semester. Rather sadistic, but actually a pretty nifty assignment.] Anyway, by the end of the meeting she had calmed down, but she was right at the beginning of my THREE AND A HALF HOURS of constant student paper meetings--seriously, I ran to the bathroom once and that was it. Although, rather nicely, one of my friends texted me in the midst of it and said, "I just walked by your office and saw you earnestly molding a young mind, you're so adorable" so that made me feel better about myself. Also, I missed a departmental luncheon while doing this, but was able to get some delicious leftovers from the secretary, who understands graduate students and our need for free food.

Then I went to the library for a few hours--with a Strange Fruit interlude--went to a really disappointing lecture about film, and then went to another departmental reception, where I got to talk to my friends, drink pinot grigio, and eat canapes. Also, relied crying story to my advisor, whose response was, "aw, your first crier! Congratulations! I really hate it when they do that." Then I came home, because ten hours on campus on a Friday is just a bummer. I video-chatted with my family which improved my day a hundredfold, and now am eating oreos, going to take a bubble bath, and curl up with a Nero Wolfe mystery (just started this series--verdict so far: delightful.) Bed before 10 on a Friday? Sounds good to me.

Will leave you with one last video: the goddess-like Billie Holliday singing the haunting Strange Fruit.

Veiled does not Equal Gagged

This event happened a little over a month ago, but it is something I've been thinking about since then. For the first time ever, I went to a mosque. As most of you know, I spent my summer taking intensive Arabic, and my professor, who is a practicing Muslim, invited us to go to a Friday service with him and his wife. It was during Ramadan, which is the Muslim holy month (usually corresponds to August, time-wise) and a large part of Ramadan is that you fast during daylight hours. I have never fasted for religious reasons (and there is a very good chance that I never will), but one point of fasting during Ramadan is to instill humility in the participant, so they think about people in the world who do not have food and who do not eat (or eat enough) on a daily basis. This is something that we, especially Americans, should really, really be more aware of, and I like that aspect of it.

During Ramadan, fast is broken at sundown with a dinner called iftar (which, if I remember correctly, means "breaking of the fast"). Many mosques will have community dinners, followed by the usual recitations of the Qur'an and prayer. Instead of going to the mosque in town, we went to the Islamic Society of North America's mosque/headquarters, which, for reasons that continue to baffle us all, is actually located in Plainfield, Indiana, about an hours drive from here. ISNA has a well-deserved reputation for being more open to non-Muslim visitors, which is a reputation that the mosque here does not have--also, the mosque in town is run by some old-school guys who still insist that women pray in a separate room (located in the basement). I would not have gone to a mosque with such a set-up, which is also the reason why my professor and many other people this community don't go there either. ISNA is much more egalitarian.

So we drove up and met up with some other people from my class and my professor and his wife (who are both so cool), and broke fast. I had pseudo-fasted that day, which (for me) meant not eating since breakfast, and as sunset is pretty late here in the summer (9 pm or so), it was nice to eat! The food was amazing, prepared by people who go to the mosque. There were many different rice dishes, some delicious curried eggs, salads, moussaka, kebabs, and dates and figs. Afterwards we had cups of chai tea and went upstairs to begin the prayers. I took two pictures when a classmate and I were poking around looking for a bathroom, so I was able to see the prayer hall without anyone in it, and it's a beautiful space. I study Catholic art and am aesthetically drawn to honkin' huge amounts of stained glass and gold and paintings, but those trappings do not feel overly spiritual to me. The relative simplicity of mosque art and architecture is a lot more soothing, and a lot more conducive to actually thinking about religion and reflecting on yourself.This doesn't really do it justice, because there was a lovely portal and series of windows that you can't see, but this is the general view of the prayer space. The carpet is stripped so you know how to line up in rows (much like pews). As is common practice, men are up closer to the front and women are to the back. I totally understand that for women this might be a modesty concern (and frankly, I wouldn't want to have to bend and kneel in front of rows of men), so this arrangement does make sense to me.This is the entrance area to the prayer hall, which is also clad in neutral colors and is a calming space--I think there was water in the center well, surrounded by plants. As you can sort of see, there are two carpet runners, one on the right and on the left. As you face the prayer hall, women enter on the left and men on the right. You line your shoes up against the wall, and then walk on your respective carpet in, stepping with your right foot first over the threshold. There were probably only 100 people at the service and the mosque can hold much more, so there was a lot of space in the middle, as the women stayed further back and to the left. There were 6 of us students (3 men and 3 women), so we split up and then sat against the back wall to observe. They start off with prayers, with a man (I'm not sure if imam is the right term, but it's usually an older, male member of the church) reciting. Since I didn't know the meaning of most of the words (especially when spoken so FAST), I could focus instead on the cadence of speech and the movement of people's bodies, which was very cool to see.

After the prayers, recitation of the Qur'an began. Our professor got us Qur'ans from one of the bookshelves and got us onto the right page. And I was actually able to follow along! Well, for the most part. At certain points you jump back to the first page and then pick up back where you left off, so once I figured out that rhythm, it went pretty well. We were there for about an hour (recitations would go on for another hour or so) and then we left. It's culturally very different in that you can congregate at the back of the prayer hall and talk, even while prayers are happening (as long as you're not right behind people praying) and the kids ran in and around the prayer hall and no one told them to knock it off (let me tell you, as someone who spent a lot of time in Lutheran churches as a child, that there is no running during services--least of all because the pews get in the way!)

All of this brings me to the title of this post: all of the women at the mosque were veiled, including me.
If you had asked me a few months ago what I thought about hijab or burqa I would have said something like, that it was a personal choice and that countries shouldn't regulate or force women to either not cover their heads (like France), or to cover their heads. I still stand by this assessment. One thing that is even more clear to me now is that judging people based on their religion alone is dangerous and stupid, and that judging a woman based on whether she decides to cover her hair (or not) is even more dangerous and stupid. There are plenty of reasons to veil, and plenty of reasons not to, and I do not think either decision makes a woman any less of a feminist. Case in point: my professor's wife, B., who follows hijab. She is also totally stylish, cool, young, smart, and hip. She's my age, and only recently decided to follow more strict guidelines about dress, not because anyone told her to--her parents are Syrian and pretty traditional, but didn't force veiling on their daughters, which is important. Yes, hijab is sometimes dictated by men (and that is where I start having problems with it), but a lot of times it has nothing to do with men at all. This is a concept that I think sometimes my friends/professors (ie liberal, secular, academics) have trouble reconciling, and I am certainly conflicted about it, too.

I took a really excellent class on women and religion in my senior year of college (taught by this blogger, actually) and we read a great book called Living Islam Out Loud: American Muslim Women Speak, edited by Saleemah Abdul-Ghafur. One of my favorite parts, and one which has stuck with me throughout the years, was a long poem by Su'ad Abdul-Khabeer, titled "A Day in the Life". In it, she discusses the pressure for Muslim women to conform, both from traditionalist Muslims, and Westerners who want to "liberate" them. I'm going to quote from it now.

some of my sisters
are in combat
with ideas newly born
and words older than the world;
yet, to cover or not cover
Is not my battleground.
...
See, clothes do not hide the woman
They announce her.
...
When they only offer scarves
studded with restriction,
the rear masjid entrance,
and a stay-home free card.
Then,
I don't feel beautiful
and I am.
...
If you had asked me
I would have told you
I don't have any brothers,
My father rarely prays
and when he does
It is for my happiness
and my scarf
did not come with detachable weapons
nor dyed with subversive messages.
No.
My scarf
is about
Claiming space.
but you didn't ask.
...
There is a lot more, and I would encourage you all to check it out. And think about it. I have been.