Category: Arts

Visualizing Earth’s Water

Here is an image posted by one of my students to the last discussion forum of this semester in my Sustainability Studies 220 Water course, along with her comment about it.

It can sometimes be challenging to wrap our minds around water scarcity on Earth when we so often picture it as a blue planet with immensely deep seas. Graphs certainly help to put the idea of water scarcity in perspective, but nothing has driven home this idea as much for me as this image from the USGS. The large blue bubble represents the volume of all the water (salt and fresh) on Earth (its diameter being 860 miles) in comparison to the volume of Earth. The small bubble represents the freshwater on Earth (including the water that is within trees, plants, you and I). And the teeny tiny blue dot by Georgia (look closely) represents all the freshwater that is accessible for our use. It looks smaller than the Great Lakes, but you must imagine it in three dimensions.

We live in a very visual culture. What water-related environmental images have you come across that have had a strong impact on you? What campaigns can you think of that have been successful in using images to impact change? How do you see art, photography, film, etc, having a role in expanding awareness on these critical issues we face? ~Jessie

One of the great things about the USGS page this comes from is that this arresting visual representation of the volume of Earth’s water (and fresh water, and available fresh water) compared to the total volume of Earth as a whole is then accompanied by statistical data and explanations that help us understand the physical story being told in that image. This in turn highlights, and then complicates, the often-evoked dichotomy of image (emotion) and text (reason) — the assumption in popular culture that pictures speak to our hearts and guts, while words appeal to our minds.

Of course, we know that dichotomy to be simplistic, if not simply false. Images such as this do more than pull at our heartstrings — consider the lonely and threatened polar bear here, or seals with fur matted with oil; they get us to think; they cause us to ask questions — in this case, about scale, about the relationship of water to the rest of the Earth’s mass, about the thinness and fragility of the biosphere (which is defined by water, without which there would be no “bio”).

Conversely, textual discourse — whether a poem or a scientific technical report — can stoke our emotions and even spur us to action, especially if we’re open to receiving its message and understand its internal logic. The impacts and effects of both text and image are wonderfully complex, and in the best cases work together more powerfully than they can separately. This example of Earth’s water is a fine case of that, writ large.

The work of science is phenomenally important to the advancement of sustainability in human communities — both in terms of economics and social equity — as well as to the conservation of natural ecosystems, basic resources (air, water, soil), and species. But science alone cannot change the policy that governs our human actions and regulates our excessive tendencies to waste, to think only of the short term, to ignore the unintended consequences of our technologies.

For those huge and ever-present challenges, we also need ideas — and those are debated and created in the creative fires of the arts and humanities in ways that cannot be replicated in scientific and political discourse. For sustainability to be a guiding force of human culture as well as a central feature of our governments (regardless of political persuasion), it needs art, music, literature, and other creative endeavors that define us as a species. And it needs people to connect such expressions to the worlds of science and policy as much as possible, as a means of building bridges and reshaping our views of the world — and our role in it.

Cosmic Outlaws: Coming of Age after the End of Nature (a call for papers)

I recently received this intriguing call for papers through email. If you’re a young and aspiring writer and have an interest in the natural environment, sustainability issues, and related subjects, check this out!

In the prescient 1988 book, The End of Nature, Bill McKibben forecast the end of a primordial relationship between humans and the untrammeled earth. Evidence abounds that our ancient connections with the home planet have irrevocably altered.  What happens to individuals and societies when their most fundamental cultural, historical, and ecological bonds attenuate—or snap?  How do the young, especially, cope in a baffling and mutable new world? “When the Pleiades and the wind in the grass are no longer a part of the human spirit,” wrote Henry Beston, “man becomes, as it were, a kind of cosmic outlaw. . .  .”  It is vital that we hear from members of the generation who have grown up on the new earth, who can express their challenges, fears, dreams, and sources of resilience for living and thriving as cosmic outlaws.

Co-editors Julie Dunlap and Susan A. Cohen are soliciting submissions for an anthology tentatively titled, “Cosmic Outlaws: Coming of Age after the End of Nature.”  Submissions are invited from young writers, born in 1982 or later. We are interested in essays, short fiction, and poetry that explore themes including (but not limited to) growing up in a warming climate, accepting biodiversity decline, defining responsible consumption, understanding the relevance of wilderness, interpreting moralities of resource allocation, new views of urban design, sustainability, and environmental justice, technological optimism or pessimism, environmental heroes for the future, and sources of joy in a diminished place.

Julie Dunlap is co-editor of Companions in Wonder: Children and Adults Exploring Nature Together (MIT Press, 2012) and an award-winning author of children’s books, articles, and essays about nature, science, and environmental history. Susan A. Cohen (formerly Susan A. C. Rosen) is co-editor of Wildbranch: An Anthology of Nature, Environmental, and Place-Based Writing (University of Utah Press, 2010), editor of Shorewords: A Collection of American Women’s Coastal Writings (University of Virginia Press, 2003), professor of English at Anne Arundel Community College, and the author of numerous essays on American literature and the environment.

Please submit materials electronically (.doc or .rtf files only for essays and fiction – .pdf files will be accepted for poetry) by December 31, 2012, along with contact information and a one-paragraph author bio.  We will accept essays & fiction up to 4,000 words (one per contributor) and up to three poems per person.  Please submit copies of your work to both of the e-mail addresses below.  If you must submit by mail, please send TWO double-spaced copies to both addresses below.  We will be reading and selecting pieces in early 2013.  We are happy to accept simultaneous submissions, but we ask that you please notify us if your submission is accepted elsewhere.

Send your work to:

  • Julie Dunlap:  juliejdunlap@earthlink.net (6371 Tinted Hill, Columbia, MD 21045)
  • Susan A. Cohen:  sacohen3@aacc.edu (40 Johnson Road, Pasadena, MD 21122)

Thank you.  We look forward to reading your essays, stories, and poems!

City Creatures Writer’s/Artist’s Retreat at the Indiana Dunes (Midstream Reflections)

There are many times when I give thanks for having the wonderful job of being a professor — and today is one such day. I’m writing this update from a motel room in Chesterton, Indiana, where I’m attending a writer’s/artist’s conference (with my two children in tow) sponsored by the Center for Humans and Nature, an environmental humanities organization which is leading the development of a book project / art exhibit scheduled for 2014 entitled City Creatures.

As a contributing author to this project, I’m lucky enough to be a part of this retreat to the amazing and inspiring landscape of the Indiana Dunes National Lakeshore, one of the most ecologically significant places in the Midwest and the closest national parkland to Chicago. Our goal is to think of ways in which humans relate to, connect with, and/or learn from non-human animals in the Chicago metro region — precisely the kind of “urban nature” questions my students and I have been grappling with the first two weeks of our summer humanities seminar on “Representations of the Urban Landscape.” Talk about a happy coincidence of timing!

Yesterday afternoon, before taking a leisurely hike in the Calumet River marshlands of the Dunes, I heard a remarkable presentation by Ron Engel, a theologian, social activist, writer, and conservationist who lives in the Dunes community of Beverly Shores with his wife, Joan — herself a gifted writer and fellow conservationist. For four decades, Ron and Joan have dedicated themselves to protecting the Dunes from further industrial/commercial encroachment, advocated for their continued conservation and restoration, and documented their historical and cultural significance to the region. Ron is the author of the well-received book, Sacred Sands: The Struggle for Community in the Indiana Dunes (1983), which is sadly out of print but available at local libraries.

Today we gather again for a morning of discussion, brainstorming, and essay planning — the goal of which is to create a book and accompanying art exhibit that explores our human relationships with and connections to the non-human animals we encounter in a variety of urban settings within the Chicago Region: backyards, parklands, industrial sites, rivers and lake shoreline, etc. Then we’ll take another hike through the rich Dunes landscape to learn more about the complex cultural and natural history of this place — and how they are intricately intertwined.

It’s good to meet people this way — interacting, conversing, exploring . . . all with a common goal in mind. Yes, we could’ve planned and brainstormed this project solely by email and conference call. But I’m glad the project’s organizers, Gavin Van Horn and David Aftandilian, set up this retreat — a rare opportunity for many of us to take time out from our busy lives and collaborate face to face in a deep and meaningful way.

Next week — pictures from the retreat!

Ryan Hodgson-Rigsbee Publishes Urban Nature #10

My friend and fellow urban nature admirer, Ryan Hodgson-Rigsbee, recently left his home turf of Chicago to live in and explore New Orleans. But Ryan’s still creating amazing work about the City of Big Shoulders. Check out his newest edition of the online ‘zine, Urban Nature (#10). I was glad to provide a bit of introductory text to two of the photo essays therein: “The Blizzard” and “While Wandering: Chicago.”

The photo above is from “The Blizzard,” and depicts the Bloomingdale Trail, a proposed elevated rails-to-trails parkland project on Chicago’s North Side. (I mentioned the trail in this blog essay on urban nature published last year.)

Russell Hoban (1925-2011), renowned author for young and old

One of my favorite children’s authors, Russell Hoban, died this past Tuesday at the age of 86. Hoban was a skilled and highly-praised novelist, as well; but as a father of young girls, I came to know his work through his immortal Frances the Badger series of books from the 1960s, which featured brilliant illustrations — first from Garth Williams, then from Hoban’s wife, Lillian Hoban.

The first page of "Bedtime for Frances" (1960); illustration by Garth Williams.

This appreciation published today the Lawrence Downs of the New York Times aptly describes the remarkable level of craft and insight Hoban brought to his work.

It’s hard to write a book. It’s harder to write one with living characters, clever scenes, warmth and wit. And it’s harder still when the people you’re writing for can’t read, or read only a little, when the words you choose must be simple, short and sweet. And if not always sweet, at least short.

Pictures help. They help a lot, sometimes more than they should. If pictures in a picture book are an enchanted countryside, the words are often just the tracks the story chugs along toward bedtime, more functional than lovely.

Russell Hoban, who died on Tuesday in London, age 86, was an author whose books for youngest readers contained writing as good as the drawings. He wrote grown-up books, too, which were praised for dazzling and inventive language. A Times reviewer called “Riddley Walker,” Mr. Hoban’s 1980 novel about a postnuclear dystopia, Beckettian, Boschian and Twain-like. Mr. Hoban knew what he was doing.

Which is obvious from his seven books about Frances. Frances is a badger who has a mother, father, baby sister and friends whose stories unfold in sentences that will delight you and make you laugh. Frances is witty and stubborn. She is adorable not because the author tells us she is. She just is:

“Frances did not eat her egg.
She sang a little song to it.
She sang the song very softly:
I do not like the way you slide,
I do not like your soft inside,
I do not like you lots of ways,
And I could do for many days
Without eggs.”

Children’s books, like pop songs, are simple things we’ll never run out of, partly because so many people want to write them and think they can. But simplicity is harder than it looks. So are depth and beauty. Mr. Hoban’s Frances books take us all the way to delight, using an easy-reader vocabulary.

Who’s Funnier — Jerry Seinfeld or the Joliet City Council?

Two weeks ago my wife and I took a rare break from our humdrum lives as sleep-deprived and chore-obsessed parents of small children, and indulged ourselves in a night’s entertainment at Joliet’s historic Rialto Theatre, which for one glorious and side-splittingly hilarious evening hosted comedian Jerry Seinfeld for two high-profile performances.

The Rialto Theatre, Joliet IL, c. the late 1920s (Photo: Legends of America)

When tickets for Seinfeld’s appearance went on sale several weeks ago, the town buzzed with excitement at the prospect of the wise-cracking New Yorker gracing my hometown’s most fabulous stage. I should know, since I stood in line mighty early to get fourth row tickets for my wife’s birthday present.

Such was the overwhelming demand for the show that later that day a second performance was announced — and its tickets sold like hot cakes, too. On performance night, the Rialto brought well over 3,500 people into downtown Joliet ready to have some laughs and spend money — a fact to be noted with some measure of respect.

I should elaborate. Random readers from outside the area might harbor the mistaken impression that as the fourth-largest Illinois metropolis, Joliet possesses a vibrant downtown nightlife scene.

Shockingly, though, this is not the case. As we natives well know, about the most glitz and glamour you’ll get downtown on non-Rialto performance nights is the flashing blue light emanating in a menacing Big Brother-like fashion from the Homeland Security cameras mounted on buildings throughout the city’s central district.

That’s why we need people like Seinfeld to come to town occasionally, jazz up the scene, and make us forget temporarily that we live in such a sleepy, quiet, middle of the road, surveillance-camera-infested place. Not that there’s anything wrong with that.

But now that the raucous laughter from Seinfeld’s routine has died down, we should contemplate something far less funny. With about $7 million more in reserves within the overall 2012 budget projections than previously estimated during the summer, the City Council still cut $100,000 of its support for the Rialto and $166,000 more from other local arts organizations — specifically, the Billie Limacher Bicentennial Park (which hosts community theater and other events at its indoor auditorium and outdoor stage) and the Joliet Area Historical Museum.

Consider that hundreds, if not thousands, of Rialto patrons that night went out to dinner (and/or to the casino) before or after the shows and fed generous wads of their hard-earned money to the local economy. I can testify that we enjoyed a phenomenal meal at a downtown establishment that was absolutely hopping during “wave two” of Rialto-stimulated business.

The auditorium at the Rialto (Photo: Legends of America)

Consider that instead of mocking our nightlife-challenged burg, Seinfeld took pains to declare sincerely that the Rialto is one of the most beautiful and glorious performance venues he has ever played. (And does anyone seriously think he would come to Joliet were the Rialto not here?)

Finally, consider which is funnier: a Jerry Seinfeld stand-up comedy performance, or the three-ring circus of Joliet’s ongoing 2012 budget deliberations?

This is a revised version of my regular op-ed column that appeared as “Lack of Support for Rialto No Laughing Matter” in the 10 November 2011 issue of the Joliet Herald-News (p15). The Joliet City Council continues to work on the 2012 budget, and as of Wednesday, Nov. 9th, was considering a forensic audit going back twenty years.

Can Joliet Afford To Neglect the Arts?

After a summer of disconcerting inaction on Joliet’s $23 million shortfall for 2012, budget deliberations in Joliet’s City Hall have really heated up.

Mayor Tom Giarrante’s proposed plan combines tax hikes, service cuts, pension payment restructuring, and planned negotiations with employee unions as a means of bringing down expenditures; and the Council, much to the delight of Joliet residents, has voted to raise sales and utility taxes in order to generate more revenue.

Getting an inordinate amount of attention in the local press as well as in Council deliberations, though, are potential cuts to Joliet’s less-than-lavish support of the Rialto Square Theater, the Joliet Area Historical Museum, and Bicentennial Park. The mayor proposes relatively modest decreases for these important cultural institutions, while District 1 Councilman Larry Hug advocates slashing city support entirely.

Hug’s attitude is hardly surprising. Whenever economic times get tough, public expenditures on the arts always come under the gun. But the reasoning behind these potential cutbacks is both mathematically misguided and philosophically impoverished.

Let’s do the math first. The mayor’s proposed cuts to the above arts organizations total $266,000 — less than two percent of the city’s $17 million gap in operating expenses. Giarrante’s strategy here is plainly symbolic: while such reductions are admittedly ineffectual because they’re so small, they demonstrate his willingness to make tough decisions across the board.

Ironically, the draconian “cut everything” approach espoused by Hug would not generate all that many savings, either, and could potentially hurt the local economy. Take the Rialto: eliminating its $700,000 of city support trims only four percent from that $17 million shortfall. Yet that would be potentially devastating to the Rialto’s always precarious operating budget, and thus jeopardize the $7.5 million of local economic activity it generates annually.

But let’s also think beyond mere numbers. What would Joliet be like without Bicentennial Park’s music concerts, dramatic productions, and cultural festivals? Without the rich perspective on the our area’s culture and history provided by the much-lauded Historical Museum?

How would the otherwise depressing and downtrodden downtown landscape look without the glitz, energy, and architectural pizazz of the iconic Rialto, Joliet’s only serious venue for nationally-renowned live entertainment?

Oh, sure, life would go on. The garbage would be picked up (on the street, not in the alley), sewage would be processed (in most neighborhoods, anyway, though not necessarily the Ridgewood area on the city’s East Side), and the lights would stay on in City Hall. But a culturally-impoverished existence in which the arts are devalued and unfunded is neither desirable nor acceptable in a city of our size and aspirations.

The question we should be asking, then, is not how much we can slash and burn the already paltry public support of our cornerstone arts organizations and cherished cultural institutions. It’s rather this: what kind of city do we want to live in?

This article was published in the Wednesday, 5 October 2011 edition of the Joliet Herald-News. Information about Joliet’s 2012 budget can be accessed at the city’s official website, which lists links to various budget reports and proposals.