#Rhizo Anniversary Tweets

#recoveringrhizomist #rhizo15alum I gave a talk at a regional conference, “A Rhizomatic Approach to the Framework for Information Literacy for Higher Education” in 2017. It was well received but I was between jobs and never developed it into a paper.

#recoveringrhizomist #rhizo15alum That same year I wrote my wife a rhizome valentines day sonnet, “The Roots of Our Love

#recoveringrhizomist #rhizo15alum In 2015 i wrote a “rhizome” sonnet with a wicked internal rhyming scheme I called an invasive species that chokes and breeds.

#recoveringrhizomist #rhizo15alum And that same year, fresh off a wonderful gardening experience in the mountains, I penned the following (again about invasive species): “Another gardening poem.”

#recoveringrhizomist #rhizo15alum Finally, In my first August Wilson study group, we followed the order in which the ten plays were written. In subsequent sessions, we followed in decade by decade. But what about a rhizomatic approach?

DiGiWriMo – November 3

Today’s post is dedicated to tenets, themes and traits of American Renaissance art.

(Between the paragraphs, I am wondering if the idea of an American Renaissance has leaked into current political discourse, i.e., the willingness to look back to classical underpinnings for modern examples, buried for years beneath the faux progressivism of modernity and neo-liberalism.) 

This comes almost exclusively from Prof. Thomas Somma’s published and unpublished papers that we’ve used in docent training.

The American Renaissance lasted from 1876 to 1917, from the nation’s centennial to the beginning of World War 1.

(Again, between the paragraphs, I am wondering what were the forces correlated with the end of WW1 that snuffed out the renaissance movement in art. And was there a 20th century American Renaissance in literature, in poetry especially?)

First, the American Renaissance as an ideology identifies with the classical traditions of the Italian Renaissance and of ancient Greece and Rome, and seeks to include the following tenets:

  • personification, i.e., use of the human form symbolically and metaphorically;
  • humanism, or the study of living human beings, how they move, how they are constructed, how they think and react to one another;
  • skepticism, i.e., the individual use of their own intellect, critical thinking, and the celebration of the intellect, of making sense of the world by applying the intellect;
  • the use of classical art as a pedagogical tool, to teach something, to appeal to the intellect.
  • inclusiveness of the best aspects of all previous cultures, especially aboriginal and indigenous ones, and saving those aspects for all posterity.

(Between the paragraphs, I see these tenets all but disappearing/disappeared in modernist discourse. Somma suggests they might re-emerge/reappear in post-modernism.  I used to think the Wynton Marsalis alternation between classical music and avant-garde jazz was a possible expression of that tendency, of that re-emergence.  Just heard that Marsalis is experimenting with a violin concerto. Might be a hopeful sign.  MJQ and others experimented with what they used to call “third stream music,” a synthesis of classical and jazz elements. Yes, there is hope.)

Here are a few characteristics (in no particular order: these are all from the Somma article, by the way, listed as aspects of Jeffersonian belief, inherited from the Enlightenment):

1) public access to accumulated knowledge is essential to the integrity of a free and democratic society (rationality, the rule of law, and unfettered access to accumulated human knowledge as intellectual cornerstones of a modern enlightened republic);

2) the acquisition of knowledge and wisdom is in and of itself an essentially moral endeavor;

3) the diversity of nations and cultures contributing to human progress;

4) the lifelong pursuit and practical application of knowledge;

5) the cultivation of wisdom as a civilizing influence (the two Minervas, of peace and culture and of defensive war, and the lampbearers, distant cousins to the Statue of Liberty, illuminate the library visitor’s personal journey along the path towards truth and enlightenment);

6) individual exemplary achievement in law, government, science, and the arts;

7) promotion of the common American Renaissance notion that modern “civilized” institutions are actually rooted in aboriginal cultures and that the entire human family contributes to civilization’s general progress;

8) the educated American worker is the true source of the nation’s power and wealth.

(Between the paragraphs for a final time. This is coming together for me as a universal and an inclusive ethic. Pulling back the external layers, I have to confess that it sounds to me more like current conservative trends in politics, preserving the standards of the distant pass, and less like other existing streams of political thought. That may make me bad to a lot of readers of this blog. I accept that.)  

And three themes of the American Renaissance:

  1. reliance on art historical sources from antiquity and the Italian Renaissance;
  2. a belief in the social usefulness of art; and
  3. unity (and harmony) of the primary arts (painting, sculpture, and architecture)


Somma, Thomas P. American Sculpture and the Library of Congress. The Library Quarterly: Information, Community, Policy. Vol. 80, No. 4 (October 2010), pp. 311-335. Accessed at http://www.jstor.org/stable/10.1086/655873 on September 30, 2016.

Somma, Thomas P. “The Sculptural Program for the Library of Congress.” Unpublished manuscript, Ithaca College, July 15, 1996.

Somma, Thomas P. (Producer). 2006, November 14. Statuary in the Thomas Jefferson Building. Library Docent Training Webcasts (Episode 9). Webcast retrieved from http://www.loc.gov/today/cyberlc/feature_wdesc.php?rec=4251

DigiWriMo – November 1

OK. This is not a novel. It’s just that it has been so long since I posted anything to this blog. Today that all changes. For the rest of November, at least. Maybe.

Someone landed on my poetry blog last night and “liked” a poem I wrote during August Postcard Poetry Month.  So I took a closer look at that poem, wondering what made it attractive to said anonymous person.  It is a sonnet, non-modern perhaps because it has some internal rhyme and consistency, maybe post-modern.  I was thinking these thoughts this morning when I got to my docent class.  That’s when it dawned on me: focusing on art and architecture history in my docent class is altering the way I look at poetry. Is that a bad thing? Before you answer, I think it is a pretty cool thing.

OK.  Before we get too deep in the weeds about the whys, here is the sonnet in question:

Bus stop (the 31 to Tenleytown)

I neither wanted nor needed freedom
in my youth. My brain, on fire, needed
a container with lots of oxygen
to cool and feed its insatiable thirst
for truth. Older now with vision clouded
by smoke & smog, I seek that same freedom
I once disdained, forsook, refused, denied.
Older now with knees that ache at the thought
of bridging the divides that hide inside
my conversations – – wait! My bus arrives
at its destination at last! One more
shuttle to catch, one more chapter to read,
one more sonnet of love or fate to extract.
And one more thirst, across the years, to quench.

It was one of those rare days when I chose to ride the bus instead of the subway to work. My knees need a break from those subway station escalators every now and then. I started writing the poem on the bus, but finished it at work.  My colleague at work read and liked it, especially the line about “the divides that hide inside,” but I know she is just a sucker for rhymes. Maybe. And that is not a bad thing on most days. So I added it to the collection and forgot about it.

Then today, this morning, I noticed my poetry blog had a hit. Hmmm. Then I went to docent training class and we had a videocast of an art historian/professor, Thomas Somma, about DC statuary, except only the audio worked, so we had to focus on the words and see the images he described in our imagination, sort of like poetry, right? Anyway, here is a pertinent paragraph of his talk:

“That’s basically the aesthetic language that the American Renaissance artists adopt.  And certainly, by the time we get into the 20th century, that’s seen as very conservative.  And this is actually one of the reasons why the art that we see in the Library of Congress for a long time was not studied by American art historians, it was not taught by American art historians, it was not emulated by American artists, because they were modernists.  And modernism means a number of things, but one of the things that modernism means, the modernist sensibility, is to disconnect from the past; a sort of assumption that the way things were done in the past are no longer relevant to the present.  That’s always been a fundamental aspect of modernism, beginning in the middle of the 19th century and carrying right through the 20th century.  So, a style that is so dependent on looking back to the past is something that was just out of vogue with the art establishment throughout the 20th century. 

Now that we’re in a post-modern period, so-called post-modern period, we’re past modernism.  We’re in a more pluralistic, even a globalistic cultural period.  And so many artists, many art historians and so on, are reevaluating the past, are reevaluating styles in the 20th century, artists in the 20th century that were more dependent on the past.  And so we’ve got a renewed interest in buildings like the Library of Congress, like the Pennsylvania State Capital, like the courthouse — Appellate Courthouse in New York, and on and on, because the art of these buildings, you know, was ignored for so long, and now we’re going back to look at them; they’re taking on new values.  Okay, so this two-headed approach, looking back to the past for role models upon which to build a foundation off of which we’re moving to the future; a turn for influence back through the Italian Renaissance, back to ancient Greek and Roman Art.”  (From transcript of Thomas Somma 2006 webcast of lecture to Library of Congress docents.) 

So I am thinking about art and wondering if American poetry has a similar renaissance that got buried by the modernists. And I am feeling pretty good, for once, about liking sonnets, about trying to write sonnets, even though they don’t always have a rhyming scheme “as classified by those who classify.” And I am thinking it might be time to re-evaluate the poetry past. And I am thinking that perhaps there was an American Renaissance in poetry, but because the poets were black for the most part, they sort of got buried in the so-called Harlem Renaissance. Later in his talk Somma mentioned Matthew Arnold, but he was British (Back in the day I memorized portions of his poem, Dover Beach).  I gotta go back and check out Matt Arnold!

So what else is up? My participation in ModPo has stalled. I’ve missed some webcasts because of work. I haven’t kept up. Work is cool, but I haven’t done any classroom teaching like before, and I feel that part fading out a bit, though I still get psyched and excited about Freire and hooks, about ethnography, and about the rhizome as it applies to everything educational. As soon as the docent training is done I’ll get back to some of these other pursuits. But for now, the docent training is thrilling, and fulfilling, and everything I had hoped for in this chapter of my life story.

I think I’ll log off on that note.  Peace out, y’all!

#CLMOOC – Introduction, pt. 2. A posse ad esse

I tried easel.ly, but it didn’t suit me and generated too many emails for an already too full inbox. I tried building a Marvel superhero avatar but it was a bit clunky and I kept having to start again. So I decided to rely exclusively on my faithful friend, plain words.

Again, by way of introduction.

I live in Washington, DC, the capital of the United States of America. We are not a state, so I have no representation in the legislative bodies that govern my country. Nevertheless, I pay state and federal taxes. I have no political party, so my vote doesn’t count in our two-party system.

I am married to a loving wife. We have been together for 20 years. I have dragged her around to the various hellholes and arm pits where I have worked and she has always been a trooper, a very present help, and a trusted companion.

I’ve had formal instruction in four languages: French; Spanish; Portuguese; and Arabic. I have more books than bookcases to house them. Along the way I learned how to do stainless steel welding, diesel maintenance, warehouse management, government procurement and contracting, beekeeping, and weather forecasting.

Deep secrets. Poetry. I love reading it. A spirit that comes and goes forces me to write it on occasion. Shelley, Dickinson, Whitman, McKay and Knight are my favorites. I kept my love of poetry in the closet for many years. During my late teenage years I experimented with the Baha’i faith and with a black nationalistic brand of Islam. I am not ashamed of either. Also, as a Boy Scout I earned every merit badge related to nature, conservation, and electronics.

My high school motto was “A posse ad esse,” that is, “from the possible to the actual.”

I retired year before last with 34 years of government service. I work part-time at a local university as a reference librarian.

p.s. How did I leave out music? Perhaps because I haven’t been doing any serious listening lately. Wow, is that ever a metaphor!? Anyway, I played viola as a child and began to internalize the overall majestic feeling of “making one’s own sound.” A local percussionist, Hubert Long, introduced an 8th grade me to jazz, classical jazz, mainstream jazz, modern jazz, free-form and improvisational jazz, and that mere introduction pretty much changed the way I’d view the world from that point on.

Check this out: a project from a sound design class I took 

#CLMOOC – Make Cycle #1: Make with Me: Who Are We?

Who am I this month?

Same as last month, I suppose. My day
starts with a glass of lemon juice I squeeze,
and water, with a bit of bitter zest
thrown in for good measure. I turn on the radio
and the internet router to catch up
on the morning news – the good, the bad.
We make the bed together – the master
and her disciple. I have oatmeal with raisins
and cinnamon. On Sundays & Tuesdays
I go to the community garden – okra, collards
and peppers are waiting to be watered
and weeded. On Wednesdays & Saturdays
I work at the library. And in between, I tweet
more than I Facebook status update, I suppose.

lurked #critlib tonight ISO (in search of) #radlibchat

Gotta get these live chats on the calendar so I plan for them, instead of stumbling upon and lurking after the fact, so to speak.

Tuesday’s #critlib chat led me to #CLAPS2016 and David Hudson’s keynote, just as the last #radlibchat led me to Spencer Lilley’s keynote address from Vancouver, which in turn led me to a wide range of background reading at my library, as I suspect the Hudson talk will as I pour through tonight’s tweets.

There is a lot to be said about either, or both. The “critical” path takes me back to critical theory itself, its limitations, and discussions about the need to push original critical theory beyond its “native” boundaries to address current and present concepts and manifestations of power and domination, up to and including LIS discussions of diversity and inclusion.

Before things get too serious, let me share with you all a photograph of my garden plot:

garden week 0

It’s tiny compared to the plots I had last spring in Cullowhee, and I only get the front half of the box. But I have grandiose plans to fill my half box with compost and rock dust, and after the final frost (a lesson I learned from last year’s experience of planting too soon), to plant a row of beets, a row of turnips, a row of okra, and a dandelion perimeter.

Back to the subject.

Again, the chat from two weeks ago drew me to a careful reading of Reiland Rabaka and his coverage of Amilcar Cabral (and of Franz Fanon, but that will be the subject of a subsequent post), one of my favorite thinkers. Cabral’s development of Africana critical theory (as described by Rabaka, particularly in Concepts of Cabralism) is itself a critique of and an evolutionary advance of critical theory, raising it (critical theory) from a Eurocentric philosophical construct with Marxian roots to a trans-disciplinary human science level that we, as librarians, can deeply appreciate and even relate to (at its foundation, library science is a social and hence, a human science, isn’t it?).

That was more than a mouthful.

Tonight’s #critlib live chat, similarly, along with the diversity and inclusion aspects of Hudson’s keynote, drew me back to Amilcar Cabral, especially his speech, National Liberation And Culture, delivered at Syracuse University on February 20, 1970, where he addressed issues of colonial cultural domination and power.  He wrote,

“Culture, the fruit of history, reflects at every moment the material and spiritual reality of society, of man-the-individual and of man-the-social-being, faced with conflicts which set him against nature and the exigencies of common life.  From this we see that all culture is composed of essential and secondary elements , of strengths and weaknesses, of virtues and failings, of positive and negative aspects, of factors of progress and factors of stagnation or regression.  From this we can also see that culture – the creation of society and the synthesis of the balances and the solutions which society engenders to resolve the conflicts which characterize each phase of its history – is a social reality, independent of the will of men, the color of their skin, or the shape of their eyes.”

Hudson alluded in his keynote remarks to the tendency of diversity and inclusion work to result in increases to neither diversity nor inclusion in the library profession.  Perhaps it is sufficient that awareness is raised and transmitted.  The presence or absence of non-white librarians, to paraphrase Cabral above, is a culturally derived social reality.  Having members of the profession flail themselves at conferences may or may not change the numbers. Raising awareness may be a temporary phenomenon, or may have a lasting effect.  Chatting about it on twitter and/or posting about it in blogs, similarly, may make a short-term or a longer-term  difference.

For critical social theory (including #critped and #critlib) to be effective in the 21st century, it has to become trans-disciplinary.  It has to cut across previously siloed disciplines of history, philosophy, sociology, political science, economic, post-colonial studies, gender studies, queer or LGBT studies, racial and ethnic studies, and cultural studies.  It has to reflect the material and spiritual reality of society, in both a descriptive and a normative way (I was so thrilled to hear Hudson mention his participation in a poetry slam!). Finally, and maybe most importantly, critical social theory that underpins both #critped and #critlib must marry theory to practice and to praxis in a harmonious, mutually reinforcing way.