As a warm-up to Twine, I thought this neat little comic strip editor might be of interest: http://cmx.io/edit/. In short, it allows you to generate stick-figure comic strips using HTML-like markup. The only drawback right now: I don’t think the strips are very portable. To save your work, you need to create an account on github and copy your markup over to your own account. But you can freely edit/modify the sample on the page above to see how the whole thing works.
In case anyone should want to try installing Omeka on their local machine before tomorrow’s class, I put together these instructions for doing so on a Mac (to my knowledge it is possible to run a local Omeka installation on Linux and Mac systems, but not Windows). These instructions were culled in part from the following page: http://omeka.org/forums/topic/installation-on-mac-osx-lion
That, at least, was how I described the Walters Art Museum to my boyfriend as I introduced it to him for the first time; “It is the best place in the world that no one seems to know of or visit.” With such a plethora of museums in DC that anyone living in Maryland or the surrounding areas has been dragged to on fifteen occasions–at least!–before the age of nine, the Walters in Baltimore is often overlooked. It’s a very great pity for, if you haven’t been, you have missed out on one of the most enjoyable places to spend an afternoon. Not only does it possess among the most stunning collections of art in the area–and among the most varied–but the Walters’ work with the preservation and study of manuscripts is astounding. I apologize in advance for the lack of pictures; I wasn’t entirely convinced that pictures was permitted so, while I snuck in a few here and there with my phone (flash off, of course), I don’t have many to show for my Sunday afternoon.
Of particular interest to this class would, of course, be their manuscript room. The room itself isn’t terribly impressive on first site. So many of the books the Walters owns are displayed in the rooms with other artifacts of a similar period or theme and so the manuscript room is rather small.
Part of the history of the book on the wall of the manuscript room.
(There is an interesting book in the corner which asks visitors to describe a treasured item and how its meaning, appearance, or function has changed for one over time. The majority of people–standing in the prominently labeled “Manuscript Room” describe books and how they have received wear and tear over the years. Interestingly, though, no one seems to approach the question of a change in function or even consider it in the context of books. It’s meaning is the same as the day they first read it. The only person who seemed to approach the idea of changing meaning or function was a gentleman who described his childhood purchase of a Green Lantern ring–something that represented power, responsibility, and adventure to him as a child when he wore it everywhere, but which now hangs on his keyring as a sort of totem (long ago becoming too small for his fingers) to remind him of youth and imagination.)
However, the main attraction of the room is an area devoted to the crafting of manuscripts–the materials, tools, and labour–with a touch screen monitor in the center of it. The monitor offers one several choices of which I found the curator and the “library” to be of the most interest. I’m very envious of the curator of the Walters manuscript’s job. He gets to examine the 1200 beautiful books of the collection by hand–including a first edition of Homer! However, their digital library visitors can interact with somewhat soothes my jealousy. The team at
Some of one’s options for a bit of light reading at the Walters.
the Walters has painstakingly scanned many of the more beautiful texts into the computer to allow the casual visitor to take them “off the shelf” as it were and flip through the pages. This isn’t simply some in house version of Google books, however, for each page offers one the ability to examine minute aspects of the decoration and calligraphy, in addition to providing a detailed account of what is on the page, the meanings guests might otherwise be unaware of, and some historical context for understanding the text. I think what makes their own DH project, as it were, so valuable is that these manuscripts–one of a kind, decorated in fine gold, handcrafted and hand-painted–are works of art that one would not normally get to flip through so casually as one does on the computer system. Even digitized, these tomes take one’s breath away and the level of detail the system provide makes them that much more valuable. It is clear from the curator’s remarks that this is, for him, a labour of love and I can see why; I were so lucky to be able to see these every day, I’d want to share them too.
While that particular gallery was the primary reason which brought me the museum, it was hardly the only reason for going. The Walters has a great deal more to offer–in fact, the room devoted to their manuscript collection is quite small. However, the Walters does not fail to delight the bibliophile; around each corner one can usually count on discovering an illuminated manuscript or beautifully bejeweled tome hiding among the other priceless artifacts of the era. My favorite is a small book of hours in the Romanticism gallery on the top floor, the cover of which is ornately carved with plants and animals which apear very much alive.
The placement of the artwork in the Walters is as much an artform as the art itself. Each room frames the pieces inside it.
Also not to miss is the Hackerman House (connected by bridge to the Walters) that houses the Asian art exhibits. There are a few pieces there, such as a huge basion with a magnificent dragon towering over it, which never fail to take my breath away. Not only due to the setting–at the base of a spiral staircase which serves as almost an answer to the curls of the dragon’s tail–but the power of the piece. Similarly there are som rather delightful works by Barye sprinkled about the many galleries–Mr. Walters must have been as great a fan of his works as I myself am.
Max and I are long-time friends. He’s kept an eye on my things while I’ve been lost in a book or a sketch I’m working on, on numerous occasions. He’s always of great assistance.
And while you are there, please say hullo to my friend, Max (named for the Maximillion style of armor). He guards a little mediaeval feast hall with inviting chess and checkers sets to pass a few minutes or hours. My boyfriend and I always ended up in a rather heated chess battle–one which he usually wins with a mere pawn and queen remaining to defend his lonely king–to the amusement of the docents.
Suffice it to say, as ways to spend an afternoon go, I highly recommend the Walters as one of the most enjoyable.
Quoted from Jorge Luis Borges
A map is only useful as a representation, which necessarily involves a distortion of reality. Google Earth threatens this idea by purporting to represent reality with a new degree of accuracy and comprehensiveness, and yet we cannot escape the old problems. Instead, these problems are magnified through the illusion of objectivity and accuracy which Google Earth promises to deliver.
Issues of supposed interactivity and user-based generated content complicate this issue, but as Farman admits, these tools, allowing for a new degree of freedom, are also controlled and regulated by Google. Not only this, but even the choices made by individuals reflect ideologically and politically-based biases, so even if democratizing the creation of maps eliminates or at least mitigates the centrality of power for the mapmaker, it could never eliminate the inherent subjectivity of mapmaking itself.
Instead, by attempting to create such a map of perfection, Google Earth’s supposed potential for subversion is even more dangerous than the old, less accurate maps. Maps continue to create boundaries, rather than represent them, but with an even greater degree of power and influence due to the illusion of objectivity within Google Earth.
This is a postmodern issue because here the distribution of power is not one-sided (as in a user watching a TV), and neither is the direction reversed (the TV is watching you), but now neither the source of power nor its direction is clear. Agency is no longer known or definite. For Farman, this is a positive thing, but if we wish to continue this postmodern critique (which I believe I have been lifting from Jameson, but I can’t be sure), we could argue that by using technology in order to extend the potential of maps to their absolute limit, Google Earth is even more deceptive than traditional maps. The more a representation resembles its original, the easier the viewer is fooled by its supposed authenticity. Google Earth takes this logic and adds with it the possibility of collaboration and interactivity, thereby ensuring that with this controlled potential for subversion, the user will be even more fooled by its illusion of objectivity. At this point, Foucault’s panopticon no longer bears any relevance, as the source and directionality of agency is lost or obscured, legitimizing Google Earth even further.
This is a pessimistic view of the function of Google Earth, but it fits into the Jameson and Baudrillard postmodern critique to which Farman alludes. Instead, he arrives at a more positive view of the functionality of Google Earth, recognizing its limitations but nonetheless embracing the certain degree of subversion somehow allowed by its creators. While I would like to agree with Farman, who begins to recognize these issues but doesn’t quite see them through, it would be foolish to ignore how easily Google Earth fits into this critique.
So I tried doing going to do something different for this assignment and I hope that’s all right. My plan was to map three places at once, all of which have unique significance to different people in different ways, but which don’t usually go marked or shared. I was going to place my QR code in a book–The Odyssey by Homer, to be precise–but, as you who are seeing it just now must be aware, that didn’t happen. Our class assignment was to place our code somewhere of significance where others might see, and I argue that this is such a spot–even if the passers-by may be fewer and further between and the significance is not one clear reason. (To anyone who may have stumbled across this little “bookmark,” so to speak, I’m quite thrilled to meet you, it is a pleasure, and please do leave a comment!)
This place, this book, this particular passage (I had intended to mark) is a place of great significance and, for me, it has a story, for it is where I became an English major.
The scene of the crime, so to speak, where I discovered where I was an was not meant to be.
All who have had class with me know of my affection for Holmes and Dracula, but Odysseus was my first love and–ironically enough–my reason for becoming an Archaeology major, as well. I was determined to find Odysseus’ lost palace on Ithaca. But, time after time and paper after paper in my Archaeology courses, I wrote not about the distinguishing features of the palace, which might allow the determined scholar to find it, but of Odysseus, the man and hero.
And so I found myself, in this library, chasing down yet another translation to compare in an effort to prove how Odysseus and Penelope represent the ideal of marriage–I realized I was a dreadful Archaeologist. Dreadful might even be too kind of a term.
On the positive side, chasing texts down on the shelves is far safer than running from giant boulders and punching Nazis. Though, I will have to try to remember our lessons on how to grab your hat as you side through closing doorways–I feel that might come in useful at some point.
I returned to college–on the verge of being too late in my undergraduate career for such a discovery–a beaten woman and confessed my terrible sin to my kindly advisor. Quite alarmingly–as I sat there, wiping the distressed tears from my cheeks–he leapt from his chair, ran from the office, and pounded on the other professor’s doors with the cry of, “You owe me $40!”
It soon became apparent that there had been a sort of betting pool in the Classics Department to see when I would discover my mistake–one they had all realized within my first weeks in their courses, but which they were too polite to make mention of. They knew, as now do I, that being told you aren’t right for the job isn’t quite the same as suddenly realizing where you belong. Given the choice, it is far better to experience the latter.
So, this is where I belong. Don’t misunderstand–I’d still love to see Odysseus’ palace discovered someday (perhaps, you, whoever you are who found my code, if you are looking for something to do, can find it for me?) and it would be nice if my Homeric and Attic Greek and Latin didn’t go to waste–but, really, this is where I belong. Here, in a library, buried in a book, rather like my QR code. I hope everyone finds their place too–especially if it puts another place on the map: Odysseus’ palace.
A post-it note really works quite well for this sort of thing. Goodbye QR code! Let me know how life treat you!
But, please, before you go, my dear reader, would you do me one last favor? You’ve been so kind to listen to me all this time, but there is something I must ask of you: If it’s there, The Odyssey by Homer, could you move this little bookmark into it? I won’t ask you to find the right page, that would be too much, but perhaps you could just move it over? Thank you! You see, upon arriving to place my code in the book I found my fears realized–no book! All the copies remained out in the world having adventures of their own and, I hope, inspiring others. What’s a girl to do? So I did the most sensible thing I could: I plucked the best copy of criticism on The Odyssey from the shelves (the one you now hold) and tucked my code in between an article on homecomings and Penelope as wife and partner. That feels quite proper to me. Perhaps not ideal, but quite proper all things considered.
Oh, and what of the passage? For you, who has the book near at hand, it’s right there–no, no, not there, a little further in, now up a bit… yes, there you are. It’s the passage where Odysseus, barely alive and naked, implores the white-armed Nausicaa and her handmaiden’s for aid. Our–or mine, at least–hero, that noble philanderer (though, pray, let us forgive him for the moment)–appeals to them as a husband who misses his wife and home:
For nothing is greater or finer than this,
When a man and a woman live together
With one heart and mind, bringing joy
To their friends and grief to their foes.
I love that line. It is precisely what Penelope and Odysseus do–even hundreds of miles away from each other and years apart–they live their lives together, as one unit of one mind and one heart, using their clever, quick wits to the defeat of their enemies and for the pleasure of their friends. And I strongly suggest you find Stanley Lombardo’s translation, which captures the essencial meaning of the Greek and the sound and rhythm of the language. If you were just flipping through the book when you found my code, I hope I’ll have convinced you to read the Odyssey after all and if you haven’t read it, I hope my post will act as a map and help you to find it.
P.S. When did they install this thing and, really, a celebration of Pi?
It’s dedicated to Pi. I really hope it opened on 3/14. And there we have it; I ended up documenting a monument of significance rather than my book after all.
So, I had a devil of a time finding a page that looked remotely legible that hadn’t already been done by someone else. At first, I looked for something on the topic of “popery” which seemed quite timely, but I failed to locate any pages that looked manageable. So in the end, I resorted to choosing JB/072/185/001, which looked to be a very nice and legible (and short) page, which I thought would be a good way to get started. The one tricky bit — and I suspect the reason someone else hadn’t yet tackled it — is that it is written mostly in Latin. Unfortunately, the page hasn’t proved to be as uniformly legible as I first thought, so I haven’t managed to decipher it all. For now, I can report that it makes reference to Swift’s story of the battle between the Little-endians and the Big-endians (those who crack their eggs on the little or big ends, respectively). Beyond that, there remain too many illegible words for me to put it all together just yet. Stay tuned, and I will update this post when I have finished it!
As Kenneth Price affirms, “current terms describing digital scholarship both clarify and obscure our collective enterprise.” When we talk about the term “archive” we have to define in which context and for what practices. Also, we have to talk about many important terms and definitions for a digital theory, but primarily we are left with a series of questions related to those terms and definitions, as preservation, memory, database, code, as well as the practices of edition, reading and writing in a digital environment. The archive is at the heart of the question of the digital scholarship specificities, yet it is still difficult to define it or (re)name it.
What is an archive? What is in that name? Does it reflect the (new, current) practices associated to the digital scholarship?
Can we use the same terms for digital scholarship until they begin to convey a broader meaning? Or is it better to create new terms? And eventually, how terms are created?
Taking into account our readings (Kenneth Price, Kate Theimer, Vannebar Bush, Susan Schreibman and Wendy Chun), I would like to propose a series of questions associated with the term “archive”:
Can we think of
digital archive/ Thematic Research Collection/ arsenal
Memex (as a precursor or not of Internet)
memory (digital memory)
digital objects / born digital
as an “archive” or a medium to create one?
What are the specificities of the digital archives and digital objects?
Which term would you create for “archive” in DH?
Hi all,
I recently wrote a paper for 611 on MOOCs, or Massively Open Online Courses. It was the “Experience and Other Evidence” Paper, if any of you are familiar. At first I thought I’d just post the whole thing, since it isn’t very long, but then I remembered that no one wants to write their own 101 assignment, let alone read someone else’s (until we’re teaching 101, of course!).
I did some really interesting research, though, because the debates surrounding MOOCs are so fresh and ongoing. A couple of weeks ago, NITLE hosted a “MOOC MOOC,” a MOOC about MOOCs, which academics and scholars participated in via online platforms like (you guessed it) Twitter, Google docs for group note-taking, and so on (check out this Storify, also cited in my bibliography, for a detailed account of the #moocmooc). American Council on Education recently approved five Coursera MOOCs for course credit, which is one step towards higher education further legitimizing online education in place of traditional classroom courses. Sites like Inside Higher Ed, The Chronicle, and the NYT have thus been flooded with posts pro and more often against the rise of the MOOCs.
Those in favor of MOOCs (Jesse Stommel and Sean Michael Morris stood out to me) seem to be avid proponents of “MOOC methodology,” if not MOOCs specifically. The main premise of many of their posts is that in a MOOC structure, the instructor of a course must give up some authority (as he/she is less in touch with students and vastly outnumbered) and thus, the onus is on the students to structure the course as it meets their needs, to build connections with one another, and to facilitate their own “dynamic interactive experience” (Peter K. Powers, via Storify). Stommel and Morris argue that we can learn about learning if we consider MOOC methodology.
I do think we can learn a lot about teaching on-ground and blended courses from the MOOC debates. That being said, I’m still not a proponent of MOOCs taking over or supplanting traditional higher education in any “total” capacity. Johann Neem discusses the “institutional culture” of college at length in his article about the “individualist fallacy,” and I think he really pinpoints how being in a college/university campus atmosphere affects your attitude towards learning and knowledge in general. My thoughts are, if you can “log out” of your computer, you are most likely going to “check out” of learning.
Anyway, I don’t want to get too far into the debate here, because it’s kind of a messy one (no two MOOCs are created equal, so it makes it hard to generalize arguments about them) but wanted to provide my bibliography to you guys in case anyone is interested. To the teachers out there, I highly recommended checking out the Hybrid Pedagogy articles. Hybrid Pedagogy is a very interesting online journal and there are tons of great ideas about that MOOC “methodology.” Also, please sound off in the comments if you guys have any experience with online courses (teaching or taking) or thoughts on the debate. I’d also love any additional sources you’ve come across! I’ve got that “Final Position Paper” coming up…
Bibliography is after the jump! Didn’t want to totally clog the blog’s main page. I have diligently reinserted links into article titles for your viewing ease and pleasure. Continue reading
My transcription and encoding experience was largely positive, but I must admit up front that I opted to take the “cheating” route and select a manuscript not handwritten directly by Bentham, but by one of his more legible copyists. I came to this decision after perusing through manuscript after manuscript and struggling even just to get through the first line. Deciphering handwriting can be a useful skill, but it is one I do not have, apparently. Ironic, considering my own awful handwriting.
I ended up working with JB/116/292/002, although I am not sure how I reached this point. The tool bar and encoding process itself is quite accessible and easy to use, but the interface for finding a manuscript could use some more features (although the pick a random manuscript button is pretty neat).
Since I “cheated” on this assignment, I did not run into too much trouble while transcribing and encoding this particular copyist’s beautiful handwriting. Perhaps the only word that gave me any trouble now seems obvious, but it did take some help from my roommate before I saw it for myself:
Spoiler alert: the answer is “interwoven.” Yes, yes, I know it’s obvious, but apparently I have a lot to work on when it comes to deciphering handwriting. I am a big fan of this project as a collaborative endeavor, though, and it was a small thrill to get an email from the editors saying my transcript has been accepted. I have now made my small but noticeable contribution to such a huge project, and this acknowledgment does make me feel pretty important. If I can somehow improve my skills in this area, perhaps I can contribute more!
Like a number of other people in the class, I thought this exercise was going to be easier than it turned out to be. I have a lot of experience transcribing Medieval Latin manuscripts, and even some experience transcribing 18th century manuscripts in English for the Works of Jonathan Edwards project at Yale. I found it easy both to register for the Transcribe Bentham site and to use their transcription tool. I did not, however, find it easy to select a page for transcription. (Thanks to Melissa and Dan, who pointed out the banner with a link to un-transcribed material at the top of the Transcription Desk page.) And, of course, once I found links to the un-transcribed folios, it took a half-dozen tries to find one where I could actually read the handwriting.
I ended up transcribing JB/107/293/002, which was relatively easy, because it is a fair copy written out by one of Bentham’s copyists.
My main interest in this exercise was not to challenge my ability to read 18th and 19th century English manuscripts, but to evaluate the transcribing environment. In this regard, I think the Transcribing Bentham encoding tool compares quite well with similar systems (such as the excellent T-PEN for Medievalists.)
My only reservation about this approach to a “Big Humanities” project is that it privileges easier projects thatover more difficult projects that might have greater intrinsic scholarly value. I consider the Transcribe Bentham project (relatively) easier because a) the source manuscripts are written in the dominant language of the DH world, English, and b) the primary barrier to transcription is Bentham’s bad handwriting (i.e., transcribers do not need specialized paleographical training, which they almost certainly would for manuscripts much older than these). I understand that just because there’s certain things you can’t do (or at least can’t do easily) is not a reason not to do the things you can do. But every project has an opportunity cost, and I think we should always keep in mind which project we’d choose if all of the alternatives were equally doable.