Year: 2004

Categories
Books

Beauty and the Beast

There is one story for Kitchen I’m working on called “When Beauty becomes the Beast”. It’s about the CBS Documents and their impact on weblogging (not to mention weblogging’s impact on the CBS investigations). For some reason this subject saddens me a bit–as if we’re seeing the end of something that once was and we won’t have again. Yet webloggers point to this event with pride; a shining moment of triumph, and vindication, for weblogging.

Oddly enough, I got the title for the story because the incident reminds me of an extremely well written article by Terri Windling about the tale of Beauty and the Beast. In the article, Ms. Windling traces the history of the story and its various incarnations, as well as the influences of society on the story over time–in writing that’s lucid and entertaining.

One phenomena of the story she notes is how sympathetic the Beast was made; to the point that readers experience disappointment when the Beast turns into the Prince at the end of the story. Windling wrote about a play that actually focused on this disappointment:

In the 20th century the story was subtly altered again. In 1909, French playright Fernand Nozier wrote and produced an adult version of Beauty and the Beast with a fashionable Oriental flavor. Nozier’s rendition is humorous, yet beneath its light surface the play explores a distinctly sexual subtext, and the duality of body and spirit. In this version, all three sisters find themselves powerfully attracted to the Beast. When Beauty’s kiss turns him into a man, she complains: “You should have warned me! Here I was smitten by an exceptional being, and all of a sudden my fiancé becomes an ordinary, distinguished young man!”

This play was created in 1909 but, oh, I would wish that this version be staged today. I would pay money–real money– to see it, just to hear that last line said within the ambiance mentioned in the writing.

Windling discusses the Disney version of the film, which she liked and had many favorable things to say on it; but she also thought that much of the strength of the original tale was lost in Disney’s effort to make the tale safe. At the end of her article she asked, whether it mattered:

In Disney’s beautiful animated version of Beauty and the Beast, we take one step forward with the creation of a literate and courageous heroine, and two steps backwards as the heart of the tale is lost in the musical razzle-dazzle. But hey, the film is entertaining and fun. Young Lillian and I enjoyed it thoroughly. So should we care about what’s been lost in the process?

In my opinion, you bet we should. It does no service to lie to children, to present the world as simpler than it is. Villains rarely appear with convenient black hats, good people are rarely perfect. Beauty has gone to Hollywood now. Poor Beauty. Poor Beast. Poor us.

Something to remember, as I write my post on webloggers and the CBS Documents, and how beauty can turn beastly: good people are rarely perfect, and good intentions less so.

Windling also pointed to a poem about Beauty and the Beast by Jane Yolen, called “Beauty and the Beast: An Anniversary” that I rather liked. It made me think of growing old with someone, and how nice it sounded:

It is winter now, and the roses are blooming again, their petals bright against the snow. My father died last April; my sisters no longer write, except at the turning of the year, content with their fine houses and their grandchildren. Beast and I putter in the gardens and walk slowly on the forest paths. He is graying around the muzzle and I have silver combs to match my hair. I have no regrets. None. Though sometimes I do wonder what sounds children might have made running across the marble halls, swinging from the birches over the roses in the snow.

Categories
Photography

A tad more fall

I do have other Fall photos, from Elephant Rocks, Shaw, Forest Park and more, but I’ve had little time to prepare them, or think of what to write to accompany them. I’ll post most of the photos eventually at Tinfoil. I need to start becoming more selective, though. One really satisfying picture makes more of a statement than several good enough photos and one truly satisfying photo.

I did receive a surprise when driving through Iron County, past the homes with the old Confederate flags out front–several Kerry/Edwards signs. No Bush signs, but plenty of those green and white “Jesus” signs, and that’s about the same as a “Vote for Bush” sign in these parts.

“In these parts”

I have gone native. At Johnson Shut-Ins, which is always so much friendlier than Elephant Rocks, several people ‘sayed hallo’ as they passed; commenting on my walking stick, or if I’ve had good luck with the photos today. I noticed that when I answered, I sounded like someone born and bred in the backwoods of Missouri. Or, as I should say, Missoura.

Missour-a. Halleluj-ah. Okay, now I get it.

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Saturday was a broken sunny day, a wonderful drive to Elephant Rocks and The Shut-Ins. The Fall color has peaked, though, as it has for most of the state. Only the deeps of the Ozarks might still have it. After I take what photos I can of the mills and the last bit of fall foliage, we’ll be into winter. Then I’ll be leaving my camera at home and focusing just on the hikes and walks.

Sunday I went to Shaw, and on the way impulsively stopped by Purina Farms to see if I could take photos of cats. The Farm was closed, preparing for a Halloween bash later that afternoon. I decided to go to it, and killed time until they opened at Shaw and exploring Highway 100 (or is it Route 100) that leads from Gray Summit.

I just followed whatever road looked good, and ended up driving past one of the most beautiful golf courses I’d ever seen, with homes on the hills above it that must have been 6000 square feet, at a minimum. It was beautiful, but I’ve never understood why anyone needs a house that big.

I ended up on a very narrow road that went up a steep hill, full of curves, and I gulped a few times coming around some of the corners. I spotted a Conservation Area I hadn’t heard of, Engelmann Woods I believe it was, and stopped to walk around a bit.

It was a pretty area with an easy trail, covered in dry, fallen leaves. Up ahead I spotted the bright red splash of color that you get with Poison Ivy this time of year. Which is good because as the trail progressed, the Poison Ivy got much thicker, and much harder to avoid.

Of course, Poison Ivy leaves also fall off, and sure enough many of the leaves I was walking through were Poison Ivy. That ended my walk, but I’m glad to say, I didn’t get any exposure from the plants. It sure was a pretty day, though, with warm weather and a cool breeze, and hearing the sound of the dry leaves underfoot. Is there any sound better than the swish crackle of walking a trail inches deep with dry fall leaves?

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When I got back to the car, two Harleys were parked next to it, and I grabbed a picture of them because, well, they were Harleys.

From there, I headed back down the curvy road, which is much more interesting, and back past the mega-homes to Purina–just in time for the Duck Herding show, but that’s for another post because it’s late and I’m tired.

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Categories
Writing

A return to writing

The next three days are going to be horrid, weatherwise, so I can return to writing. In addition, I’ve had a response from the MediaWiki developers and a solution to the problem with the wiki may be in sight, soon.

I have a couple of essays on Smart Mobs, one using photos (natch), and a couple on Collaboration that I hope to get through tomorrow, and then I’ll be finally caught up. I did hesitate though on some of the writing.

Though I can write with a velvet thread one moment–the words soft on the page, melancholy and bright–the next I’ll dip a hawk’s feather into a fine vintage acid, and etch my words into the aether. Did I want to be critical at the Kitchen? Scathing? Biting? Burning?

Luckily, I hesitated only a moment, so my usual writing will be appearing tomorrow–after I have my fix of weblog writing here, and posting some photos ; photos I hope you’ll find interesting. I can guarantee there will be some different views.

I did want to thank all of those who have participated so wonderfully on the first day. Not only with writing, but also comments, and stylesheets. Maybe it’s just me, but the Kitchen has a very alive feel to it; I wonder if it’s because there are no barriers to entry, and all views are welcome and treated equally? Somewhat like weblogging, eh?

Many thanks, and I hope everyone had fun, and continues to have fun.

Now, before I start posting photos and related writing, a bit of lovely whimsy. Rob from UnSpace passed on a new, and rather interesting meme that’s making the rounds:

Lynn at Reflections in d minor asks “What would your blog look like if it were a room?” She has many answers over at her blog.

I responded to Rob that I would have to find the aftermath of a barroom brawl to photograph to represent my weblog.

Still, there are those moments of velvet, soft and sensuous, when I barely touch the page, and your attention, with my words and photos. Or other times when Pan has me in his grip, and I jump about the page in mad abandon. Also, let’s not forget the science and the technology, when I try to channel Einstein, and usually get one of the Marx brothers, instead.

What kind of room could contain this madness other than a padded one? So that’s what my blog would look like, if it were a room.

Categories
Diversity

Pop!Dicks! Oh, I mean Pop!Tech!

Recovered from the Wayback Machine

In the comments to Frank’s post at the Kitchen, Barbie Baywatch (Sherry), writer of Stay of Execution, wrote about attending the Pop!Tech conference, and how there was one woman presenting out of 30 presenters. She also details the experience in her weblog .

Since yesterday afternoon I’ve been pretty troubled by a pattern emerging from the speakers. First of all, our speakers this year are overwhelminly male – only one of 30 is a woman. This wasn’t intentional, but feels worse now that the program has begun. Because the male speakers have had a bunch to say about women, and I’m getting really depressed. I’m desperately wanting to see some strong women onstage (there are some really cool ones in the audience) but that’s not to be. As the program shaped out we as a group noticed that the speakers and performers were overwhelmingly white and male, and our program director worked to shift that, but didn’t make it a central factor in inviting folks.

I can’t help thinking that if gender or gender issues were featured prominately in this conference, this would become a central factor driving out the invitations. As it is now, you have a guy standing up at the front of this room talking about alpha male chimp behavior, and another about how we’re not having enough babies. If Sherry was depressed, two guesses as to how I would be reacting – and the first doesn’t count.

Interesting, but from her comments it would seem that of the ten women who were invited, nine had to decline. But then, if several men also declined, and they still managed to get 29 men, this shows that the conference issued several times more invitations to male speakers than women. Perhaps if all these conferences wouldn’t invite the same ten women, they might get more acceptances. Or gosh, be daring and maybe even invite eleven. Or even go all the way and invite twenty!

One weblog that responded to Sherry was Anthony Citrano who says that we shouldn’t be angry – after all, true inequality exists in Saudi Arabia. He also wrote:

What I want is a world where men and women have equal opportunity and (of course) equal rights – but we all need to realize that our gender differences are as special as our interpersonal differences. Men and women have very different physiological/psychological skills, desires, and priorities. They are fundamental, they are the reason we are all here, without them the species would have died off long ago. Now, to appreciate our biological differences does not mean we should be limited or trapped by them. We must accept our limbic differences – we cannot change them – while also growing upon them and using this fancy new cortex we grew recently. Men & women operate from very different perspectives, are generally better at some things than the other gender, and prioritize very differently.

Getting respect. Paid equally. Getting respect. Having access to opportunities. Getting respect. Receiving invitations to speak. Getting respect. Control over our reproduction. Freedom from stereotypes. Choice of roles and vocations. Did I happen to mention, getting respect? Now, which part of these is specific to men, and which specific to women? In what way are our priorities different?

Or is the male/female thing role dependent, and why don’t we all face it: technology is a guy thing. So is politics. But women make great nurses – so compassionate.

The topic of “Where are the Women” is featured the last day of the Kitchen: How to Cook a Weblog clinic (on November 5th), which also features the topic weblogging ethics among others. Should be a smash ending.

A must-read writing on Pop!Tech by Mary Hodder:

Oh wait, again. A speaker just announced that for Poptech 2005, Caroline Porco, Dame Julia Pollock, and some space ship guy have agreed to speak. Well, they just doubled the number of women from one to two, at least in announced speakers for next year over this year. Bravo. But I think they need to work a little harder to reframe the world as both masculine and feminine, in order to even attract women, because who wants to speak at an all male party, were the world is framed in male dominated power structures? It’s demoralizing. It’s like a liberal going to a conservative party. The liberal will never be taken seriously there because everything will be on conservative terms.

Categories
Photography

A bit of fall

Despite the clouds and a threatening storm, I could no longer delay my lookout for Fall color. Since the price of gasoline is outrageous, I stayed local, and went to the Missouri Botanical Garden.

I rather like the mix of colors and scenes I was able to discover, so this is a bandwidth killer.

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I was asked recently about why I don’t take more photos of people. I do have some that are favorites of mine. I have many other photos of people, including several from the Pumpkin Patch last weekend. The reason I don’t publish them is that I usually don’t care much for them.

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In fact, I usually don’t like people around at all when I’m taking photos, unless I’m taking photos of a specific event. It’s not that I’m adverse to taking photos of people; it’s that I take them from the inside out. I take what people see, and if I’m lucky, very lucky, what people might feel when facing a specific scene.

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I like color and shape and an emotional context. Sometimes I’m able to grab photos that have all three; other times, I have to settle for one or two out of three. But that’s okay, I love the search as much as the discovery.

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There have been times I’ve wanted to take photos of people, and have hesitated because I didn’t know how to approach the people, or the opportunity just wasn’t there. One of my favorite photographers, Walker Evans, is famous for his photos of people–on depression-era farms, subways, and on city streets–but was uncomfortable approaching people directly. When he photographed people at the farms, he would set up his camera and then just wait until the person formed an expression he wanted.

He would rig hidden cameras under a coat for use in the cities. Maybe I should try something like this.

That’s not to say I want to take photos like Walker Evans. No, he had his unique and wonderful style and I couldn’t duplicate it, and wouldn’t want to.

There are several professional photographers (retired or still active) who weblog and who I admire, as photographers, writers, and people, but I wouldn’t want to photograph like them, either. I would listen to their advice, and welcome it; but they have their own style, and I’m still finding mine.

In the meantime, I look for color and shape and emotional context–whether I find it in a kid playing as a dove in a town square, or in a fall garden on a misty, cloudy day.