June 5, 2004
Ronald Reagan.
Here's a picture of Reagan I took a while back, a freeze frame from the movie That Hagen Girl. (My long post on That Hagen Girl appears here. It's a horrendously bad movie that he didn't want to be in.) I'm listening to the TV coverage of Reagan right now. The coverage is quite nicely done. [MSNBC] So beautifully positive. A really nice tribute from Bill Clinton just now.
Turtles, frogs.
A little girl was led by her father to the end of the wooden pier that extends into the Turtle Pond in Central Park. One second before she looks over the end of the pier, she says, "There are no turtles." Then:
Ah! There are 10 big--foot long--turtles right there. And optimism is instilled next to the little girl's skepticism. And here's a little boy reaching up toward an exotic frog. See the other one right there in the middle? (Now we're at the Frogs exhibit at the Museum of Natural History.)
Here's a frog that looks like moss.
This one is not inclined to blend in:
Ah! There are 10 big--foot long--turtles right there. And optimism is instilled next to the little girl's skepticism. And here's a little boy reaching up toward an exotic frog. See the other one right there in the middle? (Now we're at the Frogs exhibit at the Museum of Natural History.)
Here's a frog that looks like moss.
This one is not inclined to blend in:
Unnatural ahistory.
The faces that spoke to me today at the Museum of Natural History--taken out of tribal context.
Partisanship ... and good-bye to Ronald Reagan.
Over breakfast this morning and out of range of the internet, I read David Brooks's op-ed in today's NYT, which dealt with a question I think about a lot: why do people have the party affiliations they do?
I spent much of the day at the American Museum of Natural History catching glimpses of the tribal ways of the human being. It is sometimes very beautiful and poignant. And yet I have to think that we are born to rise above these attachments and to think rationally and scientifically.
As I walk across Central Park--that rationally constructed imitation of nature--my cell phone rings and it's John telling me of news reports that Reagan is near death. Back at the hotel, I get connected to the internet and begin to download the day's pictures. John calls again to say that Reagan has died, and we both turn on CNN together in time to hear a clip of Reagan's Challenger speech, which seems to refer to his death now. There are shots of Reagan on horseback and striding in the sunlight with Nancy at his side.
I'm struck by how soon after I heard he was dying that I--mired in this partisan world--began to think about the effect his death would have on the Presidential race. It would help Bush--wouldn't it?--to return to the positive images of the Reagan era for the next week. It could only hurt him if he overreaches and uses the occasion for his advantage too noticeably, if he makes what we might call the Wellstone Mistake. I imagine the Kerry camp cursing their bad luck or contemplating how or whether to mix the nice things they must say about Reagan with sideswiping comparisons to Bush. I wish I hadn't even thought about these things. The aged President has died--one ought to think kind thoughts about the dead man and not taint the occasion with politics, but that doesn't seem possible. How I hate partisan politics!
Donald Green, Bradley Palmquist and Eric Schickler argue in their book, "Partisan Hearts and Minds," ... people do not choose parties by comparing platforms and then figuring out where the nation's interests lie. Drawing on a vast range of data, these political scientists argue that party attachment is more like attachment to a religious denomination or a social club. People have stereotypes in their heads about what Democrats are like and what Republicans are like, and they gravitate toward the party made up of people like themselves.
Once they have formed an affiliation, people bend their philosophies and their perceptions of reality so they become more and more aligned with members of their political tribe.
I spent much of the day at the American Museum of Natural History catching glimpses of the tribal ways of the human being. It is sometimes very beautiful and poignant. And yet I have to think that we are born to rise above these attachments and to think rationally and scientifically.
As I walk across Central Park--that rationally constructed imitation of nature--my cell phone rings and it's John telling me of news reports that Reagan is near death. Back at the hotel, I get connected to the internet and begin to download the day's pictures. John calls again to say that Reagan has died, and we both turn on CNN together in time to hear a clip of Reagan's Challenger speech, which seems to refer to his death now. There are shots of Reagan on horseback and striding in the sunlight with Nancy at his side.
I'm struck by how soon after I heard he was dying that I--mired in this partisan world--began to think about the effect his death would have on the Presidential race. It would help Bush--wouldn't it?--to return to the positive images of the Reagan era for the next week. It could only hurt him if he overreaches and uses the occasion for his advantage too noticeably, if he makes what we might call the Wellstone Mistake. I imagine the Kerry camp cursing their bad luck or contemplating how or whether to mix the nice things they must say about Reagan with sideswiping comparisons to Bush. I wish I hadn't even thought about these things. The aged President has died--one ought to think kind thoughts about the dead man and not taint the occasion with politics, but that doesn't seem possible. How I hate partisan politics!
June 4, 2004
I love writing.
I love unnecessary words:
And words that seem meaningful:
And words that seem a bit off, like this celebration of the American-ness of meat:
And this grammatical conundrum (if they are selling pedicures cheap, are they not selling NYU students?):
And words that seem meaningful:
And words that seem a bit off, like this celebration of the American-ness of meat:
And this grammatical conundrum (if they are selling pedicures cheap, are they not selling NYU students?):
Catching fast dogs.
I got the idea of catching pictures of dogs as they passed by. I aimed the camera down and took a chance, not wanting the owner to know what I was doing. Here's a picture I took of a guy and his dog before I got the the aim-down-quickly idea:
Here's one that came out using The Method:
Here's one that is just so weird that I loved the way it didn't come out. Just sheer essence of passing dog:
Here's one that came out using The Method:
Here's one that is just so weird that I loved the way it didn't come out. Just sheer essence of passing dog:
My old neighborhood.
There is so much more to photograph in Manhattan than in Madison. And there's so much more to do in Manhattan than in Madison. But I can't post what I do on the web the way I can post my photographs. And I'm trying to resist going overboard. But I've just got to continue. I want to show you the building I lived in when I was a law student. It's called The Rembrandt.
The same company owned another building nearby called The Van Gogh. You might think it inadvisable to live in a building named after a person who famously committed suicide, but I lived in The Rembrandt for only two years and one day I came home from work to see a body lying under a tarp right in front of the door. I ran upstairs and told my then-husband who said he thought he'd heard a strange noise. On another occasion during our two-year lease, a man who lived across the street committed suicide by jumping from what was a one-story building. The Rembrandt is on the corner of Jane Street and 4th Street, a corner most famous for The Corner Bistro, which has one of the best burgers in the city:
I walked from The Rembrandt down 4th Street all the way to NYU School of Law, which was my walk for the first year of law school. Fourth Street is much spiffier now, and I stopped for lunch in a restaurant, pictured below, where the customers looked and acted like the sort of people I once associated with the Upper East Side, not the Village.
What did I eat? Why, my favorite: pasta with bolognese sauce! The place is called La Focaccia. Why don't you go there?
The same company owned another building nearby called The Van Gogh. You might think it inadvisable to live in a building named after a person who famously committed suicide, but I lived in The Rembrandt for only two years and one day I came home from work to see a body lying under a tarp right in front of the door. I ran upstairs and told my then-husband who said he thought he'd heard a strange noise. On another occasion during our two-year lease, a man who lived across the street committed suicide by jumping from what was a one-story building. The Rembrandt is on the corner of Jane Street and 4th Street, a corner most famous for The Corner Bistro, which has one of the best burgers in the city:
I walked from The Rembrandt down 4th Street all the way to NYU School of Law, which was my walk for the first year of law school. Fourth Street is much spiffier now, and I stopped for lunch in a restaurant, pictured below, where the customers looked and acted like the sort of people I once associated with the Upper East Side, not the Village.
What did I eat? Why, my favorite: pasta with bolognese sauce! The place is called La Focaccia. Why don't you go there?
Inside Seton Hall.
I'm here in Newark for the American Society of Law, Medicine & Ethics Annual Health Law Teachers Conference (as mentioned here). It's at Seton Hall University School of Law which has a beautiful modern building with a spectacular atrium. This is just a slice of the huge space:
I gave my talk--about federalism, medical marijuana, and assisted suicide. Here's what the view from the speaker's position looked like:
You try talking about drugs and suicide while looking into such an alienating space! It felt like a scene from a Terry Gilliam movie. From the speaker's perspective, the people look like disembodied heads lined up on shelves. But teachers make great audiences, usually. They know how helpful it is to smile and nod.
Students usually keep a poker face because they don't want to be called on. It can be unnerving. So a word to all the law students who read this blog: just smile and nod occasionally. It won't make us call on you. Now, frowning and shaking your head: that's asking to be called on. I once had a student who constantly frowned and shook his head, and I always had to say "Is something wrong?" I had to call on him to find out if I'd said something wrong or if there was a point he wanted to disagree with me about. But he just didn't like what the Court was doing (and didn't mind talking about it in class--he was a terrific student). I sometimes feel that students attribute the cases to me: if they don't like the outcome or the reasoning or think they are complicated and confusing, they appear to be mad at me. This is another reason for students to speak in class. Or just do that nodding and smiling thing once in a while.
I gave my talk--about federalism, medical marijuana, and assisted suicide. Here's what the view from the speaker's position looked like:
You try talking about drugs and suicide while looking into such an alienating space! It felt like a scene from a Terry Gilliam movie. From the speaker's perspective, the people look like disembodied heads lined up on shelves. But teachers make great audiences, usually. They know how helpful it is to smile and nod.
Students usually keep a poker face because they don't want to be called on. It can be unnerving. So a word to all the law students who read this blog: just smile and nod occasionally. It won't make us call on you. Now, frowning and shaking your head: that's asking to be called on. I once had a student who constantly frowned and shook his head, and I always had to say "Is something wrong?" I had to call on him to find out if I'd said something wrong or if there was a point he wanted to disagree with me about. But he just didn't like what the Court was doing (and didn't mind talking about it in class--he was a terrific student). I sometimes feel that students attribute the cases to me: if they don't like the outcome or the reasoning or think they are complicated and confusing, they appear to be mad at me. This is another reason for students to speak in class. Or just do that nodding and smiling thing once in a while.
June 3, 2004
Faces seen around town.
A clown on a wall:
An unrecognizable face on a lamppost:
Gandhi on the sidewalk:
Three faces on a wall:
An elusive face in a shredded poster:
UPDATE: I now know that the "unrecognizable face" is Andre the Giant and that it is part of a big art project. I'm not going to publicize it because I don't think artists should deface--even with a face--public property. I like to photograph things that are destroyed or partially destroyed, but not because I want to encourage destruction.
An unrecognizable face on a lamppost:
Gandhi on the sidewalk:
Three faces on a wall:
An elusive face in a shredded poster:
UPDATE: I now know that the "unrecognizable face" is Andre the Giant and that it is part of a big art project. I'm not going to publicize it because I don't think artists should deface--even with a face--public property. I like to photograph things that are destroyed or partially destroyed, but not because I want to encourage destruction.
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