Hold on to your finches, Darwin: we've got a date with Heidegger and Husserl...

Now that I have you caught up, I can a last go back to blogging about present day occurrences in my time abroad, which I'm sad to report are not nearly as exciting as these trips away from Scandinavia...

February is turning out to be a very odd month indeed in Göteborg. With the disappearance of the Christmas lights, the fir branches, red ribbons, and spiced wine, a serious post-Christmas boredom has swept over the town. Of course, there are the small things in life that are quite pleasant with the absence of the holidays---going to fika in new places, costume parties, exhibition openings, and dinner parties---but really, things have gotten very quiet. Quiet, but nonetheless busy.

Class has been… Hmm. Well, let’s just say we are in the throes of a module called “Material Culture and Collection.” We have a total of four whopping hours of class a week, which has been taught by mainly female Swedish professors who, for some reason or another, developed a serious passion about 19^th century Swedish textiles. So far, I have learned the following:

1. I don’t think there could ever be a more boring lecture than a monotone thesis on the “immortality of laces” and croqueting patterns.
2. Painted textiles from Southern Sweden called bonads. In addition to modestly decorating the rafters of Swedish cottages during major holidays, bonads sounds a lot like “gonads” in the Swedish-English vernacular. And boy, it’s hard to stop giggling when a Ph.D. student keeps insisting that they’re “essential to Swedish heritage.” 

Needless to say, it’s been a bit of a struggle to attend class. Though I’m sure my sister and mother’d be quick to retort, I find I’m just not into collecting “objects”—or, at least the ones in ethnographic museums. As interesting as these behind-the-scenes tours are, fifteen clay pots from Bolivia don’t move me as much as 600 hummingbirds stuffed in a drawer or the complete skeleton of Linnaeus’ tortoise. And I don't expect to be ever touching a bonad in my life...

I knew this module was going to be tough. I just didn't think it would be this so one-sided. Not only hasn't there been a single course on scientific or natural history artifacts (that's not new), but there's been nothing either on art objects. So really, I'm at a loss here. It’s also hard given that ethnographic, archeological, and historical collecting is embedded in very old type of museum ideology that I feel leans too easily toward the overprotection of objects and the overspecialization of its faculty. I mean, there are so many institutions with great missions and great ideas that have just ground to a halt from pure object-fetishism. So many places that collect and collect and collect only to keep it all on shelves, to gather dust and require time and money to preserve later, to lay in special-made boxes and temperature-controlled rooms and seldom extracted for study—nevermind relevant scholarly research—or even (God forbid) an exhibition.

Ugh. I’m not interested in this. Instead, I find I'm deeply interested in immaterial culture. Intangible things nonetheless important to culture. Like radiowaves. And language. And natural laws. And scientific method. And creative ideas. And accessibility—I’m interested in that as well.

But(!), even though I’ve needed a bit more coffee this week to sit through class, I have been walking away with one lesson: I think I am more interested in the symbolism of the museum object—or rather, their educational capacity. This has led to me walking away in quite a literal sense. I find I've been bailing on class to instead devote two hours to steady reading on new materiality theory. And what I’ve found in this scholarly pursuit is definitely more up my alley than bonads:

Can it be??

Actor-network theory of ecosystems.

Phenomenology of visual arts.

Flow ontology and chemistry.

Environmental sociology.

Human exemptionism.

Hmm. Maybe this sociology stuff can be my long-lost corpus callosum.

A fair like no other...

--"What do you think of scientists now that you've been to the Fair?"
--"...um...they're mad and crazy."
--"Mad and crazy?! Is that right? What do you think of artists then? The artists here?"
--"...they're mad, too."
--"They're crazy, too...?!"
--"They're all mad and crazy."

Conversation I had with a 8-year-old boy at the Fair with his father.

----

The Kinetica Art Fair was an interesting experience. I met my supervisor, Renee (a sweet girl from Puyallup, go figure, that has been living abroad for six years), and other volunteers for the Fair. After a short introductory, we proceeded to work for nearly 10 hours the first day, and 12 hours the next day setting up. Picture an old, factory basement littered with wood and nails with semi-erect walls and fresh paint, shouting cockney accents and ladders swinging around corners. Painting white walls black, painting black walls white, sweeping, carrying, organizing, sanding, delivering, gluing, sticking, relaying...only a couple of the many things that had to get done before we opened for the Collector's Launch.

I swear we weren't going to make it (especially considering that morning I had reorganized the Museum Shop six times before the director decided to scratch the space entirely), but come 6pm on Wednesday, the doors opened and in glided old British ladies in fur coats, men in suits, and other odd guests. I was given a clipboard with a pricelist that made my eyes bug and told to stand in my nice black dress to greet visitors. The aim of that night was to see whether people had any interest in buying the pieces. Conversations that were had that night were carefully worded; any serious likelihood that someone you were talking to was going to buy was passed off immediately to the Director. I, myself, entertained a nice lawyer from God-Knows-Where who probably more interested in my after-party plans than a robotic art reenactment of the Big Bang I was trying to show him (who wouldn't be interested in that?!), but I heard others had better luck...

The next day was Press Day, and then public hours. By then, I was so tired of standing on my feet all day and then rushing off to do more standing in museums and London sight-seeing spots that I was already feeling a bit jaded. But turns out, public hours meant that many of the artists would still be present to explain their work, and as a result, I got to meet some very interesting people such as Ivan Black (revolving, hanging sculptures), Ioannis Michalous (who actually post-doc'd at MIT Media Labs), Alex Posada (ingenious artist behind the Big Bang sculpture), Balint Bolygo (who built the crazy mirrored chandelier sculpture controlled by natural chemicals laws), Carlo Bernardini (fiber-optic sculptor), Tine Bech (fantastic woman with deep believes in play studies), Jerzy Kediora (balancing sculptures, many of them just recently featured in Dubai), the adorable guys from Poietic Studios, Christiaan Zwanikken (responsible for the reanimated dead animal sculptures), and the staff from the Manchester Art Gallery's "Make it Yourself" exhibit (fascinating, very passionate people). And of course, Dianne Harris, the director of the Kinetica Museum and kinetic sculptor herself.

I had recorded videos to try and upload here, but being that I haven't yet figured out how to deal with the file conversions (damn you blogspot!), here is the bit BBC did on the Fair this year--which I actually find a bit boring, but apparently drew in a lot of visitors.

I even got to do a bit of visitor interviewing while working at the Fair. A couple times, I went around with their camera crew to capture audio and video footage of visitors’ reactions to artwork. This, though, quickly became uncomfortable with the mounting pressure from the cameraman to just get people on camera and not do proper evaluations; I did not like having to throw a giant microphone in someone’s unsuspecting face while he zoomed in with a bright light and lens over my shoulder… But left alone, I managed to interview and write down the responses from a lot of people, which gave me a glimpse into what a full-scale investigation would look like in both the practicality of its execution and its usefulness for my dissertation as well as the museum.

What I learned, though, from the Kinetica Art Fair was fairly interesting. Overall, my impression was good: the positive benefits of throwing an event like this was definitely apparent. Everyone I talked to either said they were “stimulated” or “in awe” of what they saw, of the future, of artwork, etc. Many liked how the art fair was not necessarily limited to art-farts, but rather with the interdisciplinary nature of the pieces, became a forum for many different types of people to share and discuss topics around the works. So, all good.

At the same time, it also became clear that the field of new media has much growing left to do. Some of the pieces really incorporated technology for truly artistic aims, while others were more interactive design and highly commercial. On the real extreme, some pieces didn’t seem like art at all, but rather included elements of technology for the exotic purpose that it was “cutting-edge” or “avant-garde.” In these cases, you had artworks that were suspended in a weird matrix that wasn’t exactly art and it wasn’t exactly science either. Clearly, there exists subdivisions in this field that have yet to be clearly defined.

Additionally, I found communication within artistic circles just as convoluted and confusing as that in the science ones. Some artists really had a handle on the technological concepts behind the work; others barely explored the fields, but rather exploited scientific facts as ‘natural’ inspiration for their works. I think as much as there was an opportunity to make meaning out of science and technology with these cross-disciplinary art pieces, there was just enough risk to find the works unapproachable for just that—it was art, after all—and these circles have their own sets of high-end jargon and snobbery like those of quantum physics or cancer research. This, needless to say, was a bit discouraging.

But nevertheless, the whole experience was eye-opening and I’d certainly return next year to do it again. Hopefully, Director Dianne will be open to conducting a full-scale analysis of her visitors. I think it’d be terribly interesting to find out who comes to these events and why. But until then, I siphoned enough fair catalogues to keep me busy with artist bios until 2012. :-)

Another Motherland: Tales of a Yankee in London

I'm writing this now back at my kitchen table in Sweden, but nevertheless, a story is a story, whether or not it's told from within the place or outside it. So here it is, a recap of my first trip to London...

The Kinetica Museum wrote me telling me that, as an intern, I'd have to volunteer ten days in early February to be there for the Fair's assembly, pre-shows, public debuts, and disassembly. Naturally, I wanted to see the whole process, so I hit up my friend Ali in class for any possible connection to London. As an old Hackney Downs resident herself, she quickly connected me to her adorable friend James, who graciously let me kick it on his couch off of Rectory Road for the entire trip. Combined with the five pounds-a-day compensation the museum gave me for travel expenses, my room and travel was needless to say minimal for the loveliness that I experienced in this grand, old city.

London, as I quickly learned, is fast. The first day in, it occurred to me that despite living in Seattle, Boston, and Chicago (Gothenburg's really not a bit city), all of these cities were nothing compared to London. I imagine it's on the same degree as New York City, but much, much older. Everywhere, you get the hint of a rich and domineering past; several times, I was nearly hit by oncoming traffic and people because I either...

• ...recognized something from a history book (Westminster Abbey; Darwin and Newton's tomb!)
• ...saw something old and controversial (Benin Bronzes, Pantheon sculptures)
• ...saw another Potter reference
• ...heard another hilarious British accent on the wind
• ...didn't remember people drive on the other side of the road

All in all, fantastic. Diverse, grubby, fast-paced, old, and decorated with pubs. Wonderful.

Here, like my other posts, is a link to the Picassa Album where I visually recorded this crazy experience.

Each morning, I'd take the National Railway into main city, where I'd transfer to the Underground. Julian, my friend from Barcelona, gave me his old Oyster card (train card) so I could load and ride whenever I wanted with limited fees. His gift of a city map and rail map was also priceless, as I was definitely that tourist on the platform trying to determine which way was east... But ultimately, the commute was about 40 minutes each way, and during rush-hour (and what a rush hour it is!), I was often getting some kind of comment on the train about where my "cute accent" was from while stuffed against the glass.

I didn't have much time to really sight-see with the Fair going on (look for blog post later; there's simply too much to tell), but I did try to get to a couple things.

• the Tate Britain (marvelous adult after-hours program, Late at Tate. having wine in the cavernous, neo-roman halls of this old museum was strangely dignifying and blasphemous at the same time)
• the Tate Modern (Ai Weiwei's exhibit on Sunflower Seeds almost brought me to tears---marvelous)
• the British Museum (literally a textbook museum; epic, encompassing, and filled with stolen treasures, hehe)
• the Science Museum (ineedtogobackineedtogobackineedtogoback--fantastic)
• the Wellcome Collection (an interesting fusion of art meets medical science meets culture meets history meets cabinet of curiosities meets high-commerical-grade cafes and bookshop)

Other highlights: Big Ben (yeah, I know), Westminster bridge, the original Watson-and-Crick model of DNA (!!!), Platform 9 3/4 at King's Cross Station (granted under construction, but still, it counts), House of Parliament, Brick Lane and Commercial Street, red double-decker buses, The Anchor and getting a pint with new Irish friends, and Shakespeare's Globe Theater.

The eats were good, too. Whether it was the fantastic, "oh-my-god"-inducing Indian food of Rasa Restaurants or a cold meat pie and mulled cider on a darkened curb of Borough Market, London certainly had enough food to keep me fed in between. Not as good as Spain...but cheap and everywhere and delicious.

Anyway, it was definitely a fantastic introduction to life in the United Kingdom. While there, I also booked my tickets to Dublin and Glasgow, so soon, I'll be experiencing more of these massive islands---you and I both can look to the comparisons.

But now, I must write about Kinetica, because after all, that's what started this whole mess...

Fastforward to February

Since Barcelona, I’ve kinda felt I hit the ground running, which probably explains why I haven’t really updated online for a while. For a week, I was floating in this middle ground where I was home but still at a disadvantage. Strange enough, I felt a lot like my first couple weeks here, so it was rather easy to manage, but for a while, I was on limited cash flow and cell phone access. My emergency passport I have to send to the U.S. Embassy in Stockholm for them to send it to the States and get a new 10-year one printed. Compensation issues at the lab needed to be negotiated, and I was reassigned to a new laboratory and new post-doc with another project (all good things). I had to move in to my new apartment (blog post to follow). Oh, and I had to write a 3500-word essay on the social work of museums. So yeah…been busy.

Meanwhile, while I was in Spain, I got an email from the Kinetica Museum in the UK. Each year, this museum holds a major art fair in downtown London at the end of January that features kinetic, electronic, and technological art. It’s one of the only venues that offer not only collectors, but the public, opportunities to interact and experience new media art and this growing field. 

Here is a clip from last year’s fair.

Having seen that they were recruiting for volunteers, I had written them about joining for the duration of the fair. Unlike many of the students in my program, my CV lacks actual museum experience, and the Kinetica Art Fair provided a unique opportunity to study within a space that merges science with art (starting quick with that thesis idea of mine).

Anyway, the email said yes, and it was that simple: I booked my tickets for my first trip to London that morning. Didn’t imagine I’d be traveling that quickly again, but sometimes life hits you in the face. Next blog post: pictures and updates.

Voy a Barcelona

Back in November, I decided that since I’d be in Sweden for the Christmas holiday, I wanted to take advantage of the four weeks off and go travel. My friend, Julian, mentioned that he was going to Barcelona to visit his friend from Colombia who was also pursuing a museum studies degree, and when he offered me a place to come, I couldn’t resist.

Holy cow. Barcelona is fantastic. Probably one of the most memorable trips I’ve had in Europe yet. Not only is the city absolutely enthralling, but it’s positively breathtaking in all the gritty and most beautiful ways possible. A place with twisting iron balconies and colorful rashes of paint-crumbled walls, it's like Rome, but far less stern--ancient and bohemian. You can feel the heat of the summer in this city even in January; it draws the breath from you in its narrow streets, tall like a brown-stone labyrinth. Here's a free-write snippet it that I've taken from my journal...

...i am swallowed by the city day by day, every hour deeper into forgetting and knowing at the same time, i stuff my chilled, naked hands in my jacket pockets, playing with euros. each night, each day, we strut down this city in right angles by its graffitied garage doors, the fluid snap of Catalan echoing in the corners of the bars, the alleys, the doorways, the smell of garlic and cigarettes and subway following behind us on a mild winter wind, take me to the absinthe bar again, my soul says in mixed spanglish, take me to plates of tapas and late nights with yellow lights spilling out of doorways and beer finally at the right price per glass—i have thinking to do, in the midst of cigarette smoke and boys with dark eyes—and play that soul music, please, mixed a bit with that spanish tango. yes, play it all, because lord knows, i’ve got so much to unwind in streams over your tattooed streets...

I dunno. Maybe you get the idea.

Every morning, Julian and I would get up at 8 or 9am and breakfast with espresso and croissants, and then launch ourselves on the tourist attractions and museums. Here's a list of some of the places we left footprints:

• Park Güell (Gaudi's Park and Groundskeepers House)
• Le Passeig de GràciaSagrada Familia (my jaw literally dropped for 2 minutes)
• Plaça Catalunya and Avinguda Diagonal (must have crossed that a billion times)
• Barri Gòtica (Gothic Quarter)
• Las Ramblas (ah yes, bittersweet memories)
• Centre de Cultura Contemporània de Barcelona (CCCB)
• Museum of the History of Catalonia
• Cosmocaixa (won the European Museum of the Year Award 2006)
• La Boqueria (largest open-air market in Barcelona)
• Church of Santa Maria del Mar (beautiful old gothic church)
• Parc de la Ciutadella and the Arc de Triomf
• Montjuïc (set up on a hill, and if you take the right way, you can pass by the old Olympic Stadium)
• Sant Sebastià Beach (granted at night, but nonetheless wonderful)
• Santa Maria de Monserrat (monastery with the only black virgin in the world)

These are all the places you can probably spot in my Picassa Album, which you can find a link to here.

In between all of this sightseeing (which I was blissfully happy often happened without jackets and slicks of sidewalk ice), we’d find any excuse to eat. Tapas, tapas, tapas have changed my perspective of food; it is now definitely my favorite kind, which really even more of a reason for me to learn how to properly cook, since Spanish cuisine is seldom on the streets of Gothenburg or Seattle. Whipped, creamy aioli on spicy potatas bravas, cold sparkling cava and warm red rojas, sautéed mushrooms and grilled tomato sandwiches, garlic and tomatoes rubbed on salted toast with olive oil, delicious green and purple olives, Spanish ham on crispy baguettes, Spanish hot chocolate and Barcelonian pudding... On New Year’s Eve, we made sushi out of pink and purple slabs of fresh fish we bought at the Market, kiwi and banana, avocado and cucumber. Oh yes, Barcelona taught me about food profiles; since I’ve been back, it’s been very hard to get used to the modest Swedish way of eating.

And yes, as some of you heard, I also paid a trip to the U.S. Embassy in Barcelona. On my very last day in Barcelona, probably while briefly crossing Las Ramblas with my iTouch on, my bag was pickpocketed. Hours away from my flight back to Sweden, I had no phone, no passport, no credit cards, no debit cards, no identification, and no cash. It was only when I didn’t have enough money to pay for my espresso at the corner café that I realized I had been robbed, and I don’t think I’ve ever gone into shock so fast. My hands started shaking so hard I couldn’t zip my bag. Needless to say, I positively ran back to Juan Manuel’s flat and, upon entering the doorway, collapsed in a panic on his floor.

I’ll say this now, even if it is corny, but if it wasn’t for the incredible family I have and the friends I made in Spain, I would not have gotten home. A quick text to Gabby got my family on Skype got all my cards cancelled, phone numbers to banks, and copies of all my identification emailed to me. My Colombian friends, within fifteen minutes, found the nearest U.S. Embassy (thank god there was one in Barcelona) and translated my whole experience at the Catalonian police department. Juan Manuel was an absolutely angel, and I sincerely believe it. After seeing how shaken I was in the dingy police station where we had to file the police report, he brought me a fabulous Cuban restaurant, walked with me along the darkened streets of the Gothic quarter, and shared stories of his own robbery experiences (which certainly gave me more perspective). On only four hours of sleep, he woke and escorted me to the U.S. Embassy, paid for my passport, bought me breakfast, led me through Barcelona traffic by bike to the bus station, and paid for my ticket to the airport. 

I know. An angel. Seriously.

I’ll tell you, though, it’s a strange experience going through the airport with no money, a fresh passport, no phone, and only a ticket to get you home. I was praying in the RyanAir line that nothing would go wrong, because otherwise, I’d be literally stuck at the airport. When I managed to get through everything, I have never in my life been so glad to see Sweden…

But, despite all this, my trip to Spain was positively epic. I managed to have incredible time and learn some serious lessons.

1. The importance of language. Listening and speaking Spanish has made me determined to become fluent in the only major language I have really studied. Granted, I think I'll probably have a Colombian accent. :-)
2. The Spirituality of Food. Call me a born-again omnivore. The sacred nature of garlic and tomato.
3. How to be a Traveler. To keep cool, but to keep cautious. The differences between to visit and to live. How you can't be too sure, and yet, how you can't say yes enough. :)

But most of all, I found enough clarity to choose my dissertation topic: the efficiency of science communication through interdisciplinary means in museum spaces. Lame ending to a crazy tale, but hey, who said a police report had to be my only souvenir?