11 Sunday Nov 2007
Posted in a sense of place
08 Thursday Nov 2007
Posted in library life
One of the things I am learning to do at the archives is to answer “ready reference” questions (stuff that doesn’t require a lot of knowledge of our actual holdings). One question this week which led me to a fun little discovery was a question from a collector of antiquarian photographs. He wondered if we could point him toward any online sites with images of photographs by 19th c. Boston photographer Elmer Chickering. A Google search brought up this interesting New York Times item from 1887:
Back to research on the Oneida community and New England material culture.
05 Monday Nov 2007
Posted in my historian hat
I was first introduced to Guy Fawkes Day as a child by the immortal author E. Nesbit in The Phoenix and the Carpet:
It began with the day when it was almost the Fifth of November, and a doubt arose in some breast–Robert’s, I fancy–as to the quality of the fireworks laid in for the Guy Fawkes celebration . . .
Thus, Guy Fawkes will always, in my mind, be associated with magic carpets and imperious, mythical fowl. However, I thought I rather owed it to my profession to be a bit more informed about the actual history that gave rise to the holiday–a spot of unpleasantness, I gather, involving a failed attempt to overthrow the British government, as memorialized in this rhyme:
Remember, remember the Fifth of November,
The Gunpowder Treason and Plot,
I know of no reason
Why Gunpowder Treason
Should ever be forgot.
So, tonight, my friend Jeremy and I are going from work to the Old State House downtown, where the Bostonian Society is hosting a scholarly lecture on “Bonfires, Effigies, and Brawls: Colonial Boston Celebrates Guy Fawkes Day.” You can check out their online exhibit right here on blogspot. Sadly, we doubt that any actual bonfires, effigies, or brawls will be in evidence. . . perhaps we will have to foment a rebellion ourselves?
05 Monday Nov 2007
Posted in a sense of place
One of my favorite walks to take in Boston is the route from my dorm along the Emerald Necklace (Olmsted’s series of parks) to the Arnold Arboretum. This is the walk I took this morning, which was a glorious autumn day here in the city. I took my camera long and got some photos of the fall foliage (and one example of premature holiday decoration).
Or see the larger pictures at picasa.
03 Saturday Nov 2007
Posted in media
I don’t have anything from the MHS for you this week, but I thought I’d share this video from The Daily Show instead.
I listened to a really difficult Diane Rehm show this week on the subject of our government’s refusal to accept internationally recognized definitions of torture, thus leaving open the possibility that we are torturing human beings in the name of national “security.”
The show left me feeling angry and frustrated that despite all the moral outrage and rational argument I hear against torture (from both the political left and right!), the administration carries on blithely ignoring us all. It’s difficult to feel ownership in a government in which I don’t see or hear myself meaningfully represented. And yet I believe we are all responsible, collectively, in some way, for the human rights abuses that our government perpetrates. I haven’t figured out how to live up to that responsibility yet, but I guess recognizing it is a small step in the right direction.
Anyway, here’s Jon Stewart on the language of the torture “debate.”
P.S. I recommend the Diane Rehm segment too, for anyone interested in a more in-depth discussion.
30 Tuesday Oct 2007
Posted in a sense of place
On Sunday, Bethany, Patrick and I went out for brunch at the Kitchenette and then made our way to the Metropolitan Museum of Fine Art, when I almost got to live one of my childhood fantasies of being Claudia Kincaid in From the Mixed-Up Files of Mrs. Basil E. Frankweiler, who runs away from home with her brother Jamie. The two manage to hide themselves away in the Metropolitan Museum of Art and solve a mystery involving a statue possibly carved by Michaelangelo. It involves adventure, museums, and archival research–what’s not to like?
As incisive as the Guerrilla Girls may be in their critique of the fine art world’s lack of support for women artists, I still think one of the best things about visiting art museums is the women one finds on display. The variety of women’s bodies is absolutely stunning in comparison to the visual representations of women in our daily media. Their very multiplicity attests to the volatile nature of standards of beauty throughout history and across the world, from era to era and culture to culture.
For example, on this particular visit I was fascinated to see a 1661 Dutch painting, Visit to the Nursery, which shows a couple presenting their newborn to relatives. The mother holding the infant is dressed, but you can clearly see the gap in the front of her bodice, suggesting she is ready to nurse her child at any moment, despite the formality of the scene.
Another picture I was enchanted by (Mom, this one’s especially for you) was this portrait of a “mad” woman, Malle Babbe, which the museum describes as “in the style of Frans Hals.” She is posed with an owl on her shoulder, which apparently symbolized foolish or “vulgar” behavior in the seventeenth century. I like the fact that “wise old owls” were once thought to be exactly the opposite.
And finally, in a modern art gallery, I came across this painting (forgive me, but I forgot to note the painter and title; I will remedy that when I have the time) which I have always liked because of the juxtaposition of the very “feminine” colors and floral motifs with the girl’s confident pose and forthright stare. On the floor below the painting was a child or about eight, carefully drawing a copy of the portrait in her sketchbook. I hope she pays way more attention to what the art museums have to say about the beauty of the human form than she does to the monotonous version of “femininity” being pedaled by our consumer culture.
You can see all my pictures from the Met at Picasa.
30 Tuesday Oct 2007
Posted in life writing
For those of you who don’t know (and why should you?), a “Ceilidh”–pronounced “kay-lee”–is a Scottish dance party, usually featuring great music, food & alcoholic beverages, and traditional Scottish folk dances. This is not performance dance, but participatory dance, like a barn dance or square dance, where everyone can join in–and if they don’t volunteer, they are often pressed into service.
My friend Bethany’s husband Patrick is a graduate of the University of Glasgow, where he earned his MLitt in Philosophy, and the University was throwing an alumni dinner at the Harvard Hall of the Harvard Club in Manhattan. We went and gawked at the decor and enjoyed the food and wine, got in a few dances, sang “Auld Lang Syne” (obligatory at every ceilidh I’ve been to) and managed to stumble home not much later than midnight!
You can see all the pictures in my web album at Picasa.
27 Saturday Oct 2007
Posted in library life
I had my first full week at the Massachusetts Historical Society (MHS) this week. I have a LOT to learn, but it’s been generally invigorating and everyone has been very supportive for the newest member of the staff.
One highlight of the week was viewing the actual letter written by Abigail Adams admonishing husband John to “remember the ladies” when writing the Declaration of Independence (he didn’t). Another was coming across a letter in the hand of M. Cary Thomas, the formidable first woman to be president of Bryn Mawr (1894-1922), written in 1906 on her presidential stationary!
All of these little brushes with the past made me think it would be fun to institute a regular Friday feature on the FFLA giving you all a sense of the sort of things we work with on a daily basis in the archives field (and more particularly, in manuscript collections such as those housed at the MHS). So here is my first sampling, which comes from the collection of Alice Bache Gould papers that I spent several hours photocopying this week for a researcher who had requested a long list of reproductions. The letter is to Alice from a friend from whom she has solicited a donation for a charitable fund which supported a nursing school in Puerto Rico:
My dear Alice,
Your presentation of the case is masterly!
I wish I could give you $500. It is an unpropitious moment for me, as I am forced to turn all my energies just now towards San Francisco, though my cousins are not homeless, they have suffered sufficiently to need a ‘boost’ . . . My cousin . . . has lost everything at his office, furnishings, instruments, records, and unfortunately much scientific material that cannot be replaced. He writes, ‘the work of 26 years.’
I have arranged to send him what instruments he needs, & have taken charge pecuniarily of the daughter who is at boarding school in Germany, so I fear I must forgo the luxury of assisting your most admirable undertaking . . .
(May 12, 1906)*
The writer is, of course, referring to the aftermath of the San Francisco earthquake and fires, which devastated the city in April, 1906. I thought it was an appropriate manuscript to highlight, given the current wildfires in southern California, which are similarly causing so much disruption and damage to peoples’ lives and property.
*Alice Bache Gould Collection, Ms. No. 1309 Box 15, Folder 20.
25 Thursday Oct 2007
Posted in library life
Tags
I had my camera with me at the Department of Conservation and Recreation yesterday (see previous post), so here’s another batch of pictures of the various cool map details I came across. I took these mostly ’cause Dad’s so interested in the cartography (and then I get interested too . . .). At least get a look at the compass rose that, I swear, was done by a drafter on LSD!
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(click on the image to view the album)
20 Saturday Oct 2007
Posted in book reviews
Today was my last day at Barnes & Noble, and I thought I’d celebrate by highlighting some of the great books I read this year from the Barnes & Noble’s teen section, which is where I find some of the most interesting and enjoyable books. So here is a lightly annotated list of some of my favorite young adult reads from the past 17 months.
Tithe, by Holly Black. This gritty urban fantasy is about a girl who discovers she’s a changeling, and finds herself struggling to save herself and her friends from the violence of an amoral faery world that is all too real. And it’s the first in a series: c’mon Holly, write a fourth!
Actually, anything by David Levithan, though my favorite (aside from Nick & Norah) is The Realm of Possibility, a series of interconnected narrative poems about a group of friends at a high school and their network of relationships, romantic, platonic, and every shade in between.
The Book Thief, by Marcus Zusak. A story about a foster child, an accordian player, a Jew in hiding, some stolen books, Germany in the midst of the Second World War, and the way human beings respond to overwhelming crises–all narrated by the compelling character of Death. It’s hard to describe, so I just tell people to read the first paragraph and see if they can resist being hooked.(images all snagged from Powell’s online store)
the feminist librarian 