State of Emergency – American Disasters

February 4, 2014December 16, 2020

Natural Chicago

Warning: Undefined variable $num in /home/shroutdo/public_html/courses/wp-content/plugins/single-categories/single_categories.php on line 126

Warning: Undefined variable $posts_num in /home/shroutdo/public_html/courses/wp-content/plugins/single-categories/single_categories.php on line 127

As jeatikinson’s post mentioned, Cronon describes the advantages Chicago has geographically as a city—convenient transportation, natural resources, central location, nearby bodies of water. This argument reminded me of Kenneth Hewitt’s emphasis on geography. According to Hewitt, geography is one of the most important aspects of a city. I think that jeatikinson, Cronon, and Hewitt all make a valid argument about locations being important. Unlike Hewitt though, I wouldn’t say it’s the sole determinant in a successful city although it is a major concern. Cronon suggests that geography alone is not the only factor, which I think might be more reasonable than geography and geography alone. He writes, “natural avenues of transportation might play important roles in shaping a city’s future, but the preexisting structures of the human economy—second nature, not first nature—determined which routes and which cities developed most quickly.” Jeatikinson also mentions how New York City has similar qualities to Chicago. It too served as a sort of gateway like Chicago served as a gateway for the west, as elcaldwell notes in his post. New York was a funnel for many immigrants into America.

Cronon’s discussion of what “natural” actually means reminded me of my essay on the “State of the Emergency” exhibit. I saw that even in seemingly unnatural disasters like Hiroshima, nature could still be affected. As a child, Cronon inherently called the rural farms “natural” and the city “unnatural.” An older Cronon wonders whether plowed fields are any more natural “than the streets, buildings, and parks of Chicago. For Cronon, humans have drastically change nature in both situations. This idea, however, implies humans are somehow unnatural. I think the distinction Cronon attempted to make as a child might be better termed country/rural vs. urban. It seems term “nature” almost needs to be better defined. Are humans not part of “nature”? I mean we are technically living beings and a type of animal, but at the same time, a railroad is not a living being although living beings create it. Some of Cronon’s argument makes it seem as if humans try to count new technologies as natural, for instance Cronon writes of “rhetorical mysticism when they likened the railroads to a force of nature, but there can be no question that the railroads acted as a powerful force upon nature, so much so that the logic they expressed in so many intricate ways itself finally came to seem natural.

Another point I find interesting in Cronon’s argument is about the far-reaching effects of Chicago. Chicago is removed from much of the developing West. It is not obviously tied to “the great tall grass prairies would give way to cornstalks and wheatfields, The white pines and the north woods would become lumber, and the forests of the Great Lakes would turn to stumps. The vast herds of bison…would die violent deaths.” Still, Chicago, according to Cronon, is central in all these events. A small pebble can create large ripples that hit the distant shore.

January 24, 2014December 16, 2020

Robert Polidori’s “5417 Marigny Street”: The Power of Photography

Different kinds of primary sources have the ability to offer distinct looks into the past. A diary entry can provide one person’s emotions and perspectives that may clue a historian into a pattern that existed across a certain faction of society. Advertisements offer suggestions about the interests of a particular demographic according to what the advertisement focuses on. Art is an interesting primary source in that it almost works as a visual diary through which the artist conveys a message. In the “State of Emergency” exhibit, the artists’ intentions seem to be grounded in eliciting an emotional response from the viewer. However, as historians, it is important to recognize these intentions and the emotions the artist is trying to convey in order to objectively analyze the works and their historical merit.

Robert Polidori’s photograph, 5417 Marigny Street, New Orleans, LA, is a great example how art can act as a primary source. The photo is of the inside of a home that was made uninhabitable by Hurricane Katrina in 2005. In it you can see dirty dishes on the coffee table, bottles of Tabasco on the counter, and tattered furniture that will never be sat in again; it is the portrait of a life interrupted. It is for this reason that this photograph is distinct from images that flashed across the TV screens, or were plastered all over newspapers and magazines following the disaster. While those images are disturbing and emotional in their own right, Polidori is able to strike a different chord with his viewers by photographing the inside of this home. Images from within the home paint a more complete picture of the people who lived in it, and the life that was taken from them.

Sometimes there are weaknesses in a primary source’s ability to provide a historian with enough information to draw larger conclusions. This photograph however, does not necessarily fall victim to this tendency because although this is only a picture of one home, the viewer knows that there were thousands more pictures to be taken, just like this one. Perhaps the furniture would have been arranged differently, or a different book on the coffee table, but it would still portray an interrupted life. This realization can allow historians to begin to assess the social implications of a disaster like Hurricane Katrina, which are crucial to writing the history of a certain event. While written accounts are valuable in their own ways, works of art like Polidori’s photograph can enhance a historians understanding through heightening the emotional response of the viewer through personalization.

For all its merits as a historical primary source, a potential weakness of Polidori’s photograph is that he did not live through Hurricane Katrina himself. He is a photographer that was sent to New Orleans post-Katrina by the New York Times to photograph the destruction. In the case of this particular photograph, 5417 Marigny Street, there doesn’t seem to be any traces of personal bias, but the photographer’s background is important to note for the reason that it may have affect his approach to this assignment, or even to his photography in general. It forces us to examine the Polidori’s motivations, which may not be bad, but should be noted. Despite this potential shortcoming, however, I still contend that his photograph is ultimately successful in enhancing our understanding of the impact that Hurricane Katrina had on the people of New Orleans, and subsequently, the wider implications it had on the city of New Orleans—politically, economically, etc.

January 24, 2014December 16, 2020

History Is More Than Just The Facts

World War II is often touted as one of the bloodiest moments in history, and for good reason. Children today often grow up hearing tales of the nearly incomprehensible atrocities that occurred during this bleak moment in history, leaving words such as Holocaust, Hiroshima, and Hitler ringing in their ears. But what impressions do these tales really leave on those who have never experienced the unique terror of each individual disaster? And what assurance do those that had an active part in each tragic moment of history have that their terrors won’t fade away as humanity continues its blundering and blind race into the future?

Art is one way to ensure that more than the facts and experiences of history continue forward- it has the ability to encapsulate the emotions of each disaster and invoke them into each viewer. In his dynamic piece, London 1940, Bloomsbury, Clerkenwell, Southwalk, Waterloo (2012), Matthew Picton presents a tangible way to keep these memories alive through his vivid portrayal of just a sliver of the damage mankind wrought on both itself and nature in London, 1940. Picton’s piece incorporates text, paper, and charcoal into a meaningful rendition of the impact of German aerial bombing on the city of London during World War II. Yellowed paper fragments that are formed to depict the layout of the city of London vividly contrast with blackened sections of the “city” where the paper buildings have been completely burned away, leaving nothing behind but the foundations and black smudges of ash.

In regard to the intention behind his piece, Picton states: “The city represents a fragile compact between the forces of nature and those of human desire and inequality” (State of Emergency exhibit). In extension to Picton’s analysis of his own work, it is certainly apparent that in the continual battle between nature and man, man often destroys not only nature, but also himself. Picton’s inclusion of the Thames River, smudged and dirtied with charcoal, brings an element of nature into his rendition of London. The treatment of the surface of the Thames plainly demonstrates the effect man has on the purity of nature. Yet, far more garish than the smudged surface of the Thames are the black abysses left in the center of London from the bombings. The devastation from the bombings makes it clear that man not only has the power to irreparably damage nature, but also through the process to destroy himself and his creations.

Extending beyond Picton’s synopsis of the power of his own work, viewers and historians alike can more broadly analyze the impact that a piece like this can have on the study of history. Picton’s rendition of midcentury London suggests that no piece of history, however small, is unimportant. Though perhaps larger World War II tragedies such as the Holocaust and the nuclear bombings in Japan overshadow in some ways the bombings in London, as historians it is absolutely imperative not to gloss over any moment in history, no matter how small. Though his piece depicts only a small fragment of the city of London and an even smaller sliver of the damage left in Europe from World War II, the impact of this disaster cannot be overstated.

While staring at Picton’s rendition of wartime London, it is easy to feel the confusion and panic London citizens must have felt as they raced among the haphazard and disorderly London streets to escape the falling bombs. This is why art can be such a powerful tool- it can invoke emotions in such a way that allows the viewer to feel as though they are part of that moment in history instead of just an observer.

January 24, 2014December 16, 2020

“Juarez Series” Rising from the Ashes

They are nothing more than a burnt outlines, hollow images lying dead on paper. They empty and anonymous. These pieces, as part of Miguel Aragón’s “Juarez Series”, are chilling windows into Juarez, the heart of the Mexican drug trade, and one of the deadliest cities in the world.

Since 2007, drug wars in Juarez have claimed the lives of over 10,000 men, women, and children. At stake: entry to the American drug market valued around $40 billion.[1] It is a war that is constantly changing shape, having evolved from a war between large and powerful gangs into a daily battle between more central and localized drug cells. The method of the fighting the war has changed as well. Dating from the Nixon administration in the United States to the end of President Calderon’s term in Mexico, authorities from both nations waged a full out war on drugs that debatably spilled more blood than it saved. Currently, however, President Nieto is enacting a policy change that promotes education for youth and conditional cash transfer programs to reduce drug violence.

Miguel Aragón’s piece, however, reminds us that despite all of the policy changes, Juarez is far from safe. His piece makes the war personal, forcing us to step back from the numbers and ideologies that muddle the debates, and to look at the war. Really look at the war. When looking at the painting we become emotional and feeling beings.

And when I do, I feel uneasy. Aragón’s piece is quiet and subdued. A sense of thoughtfulness draws me near and it serves as a reminder, in Aragon’s words, that “our physical existence is finite.” The violence rages on in Juarez and yet Aragón chooses to create images that are still and colorless.

But these images are grounded in reality. Aragón sources photographs from the media of Juarez and transforms images of violent deaths into really beautiful works of art. He uses a laser to create cardboard matrixes, and as the cardboard burns away, a layer of soot is created that is subsequently transferred to the paper. In this way, Aragón creates a great deal of tension as he transforms photographs of brutal slaughterings and makes them in quiet works of art. The tension between the two demands that we pay attention.

In a city where murder is a part of everyday life, as common as a breath, we fear desensitization will outshine compassion. But Aragón’s piece directly challenges this notion – mandating that we rethink disaster as a feeling people. Because while numbers and dates are helpful in understanding of disaster in an intellectual and removed way, that way is only a part of the puzzle. But Aragon’s series is unique as the war continues today; Juarez is not our history, but our present. And allowing Aragón to retool how we think about disaster helps us to not only understand our past, but also enables to make better decisions and policy changes today.

[1]. Jeremy Relph, “Growing up in the World’s Deadliest City” Buzzfeed. 7 March 2013 http://www.buzzfeed.com/jeremyrelph/growing-up-in-the-worlds-deadliest-city

January 24, 2014December 16, 2020

Art of Disasters: Elin o’Hara Slavick and Hiroshima

Ghostly outlines of ginkgo leaves float on a sea of blue in Elin o’Hara Slavick’s artwork. She creates cyanotypes of natural material—such as tree bark or leaves—that was hit by the bomb on Hiroshima. Her art touches on the natural aspect of disasters. In what seems to be an entirely unnatural event—a country drops an atomic bomb on the city of an enemy country during war—still has an element of nature. Furthermore, Slavick’s choice of subject leads to questions about how varying perspectives alter the meaning of “disaster.” Her art also brings a poignant element to the memory of disasters that cannot easily be expressed in essays on disasters.

When the United States dropped an atomic bomb on Hiroshima during World War II, it probably would not have been labeled “natural disaster.” It may have been a disaster for the thousands of people, or for the town, or for Japan. It could also have been an example of new technology or hastened the end of the war. Yet Hiroshima does not seem to be a natural disaster. Nature has not been an explicit agent in the destruction of Hiroshima. A bomb is not a hurricane, a typhoon, or a tornado. Countries employ bombs to wage war on their enemies. Man wreaks havoc on man, and nature appears to be far removed. Some scholars describe disasters as “entirely un-natural phenomena untethered from the non-human world.”

Slavick’s work highlights how nature may be an actor even in the most unnatural events and even if humans are discounted from the natural realm. In a disaster that seems so entangled in technology and politics, nature was still involved. Although nature did not contribute to Hiroshima, the bomb still disturbed nature. Slavick reminds viewers that almost no disaster occurs entirely removed from nature. Events rarely happen in a sterile sphere rather they demonstrate the connections found in the world. Perhaps Hiroshima appeared to involved men and technology alone, but Slavick has recorded the “Bark from an A-Bombed Eucalyptus Tree” and “Ginkgo Leaves from an A-Bombed Tree.” Those pieces represent hundreds of trees, plants, animals, and waterways that were likely affected by the bomb. Slavick strives “to make the invisible impact visible.” For the nature around Hiroshima, the bomb might be called a natural disaster.

As the trees around Hiroshima might count the bomb as a disaster, people themselves may have their own perspectives on Hiroshima. The Japanese and the people of Hiroshima likely count the bomb as a disaster; it flattened a city, killed or injured thousands, and contributed to Japan’s loss in World War II. For Americans, however, the bomb may represent an advance—albeit terrible—in technology, the probable saving of American soldiers from invading Japan, and the successful end of World War II. They may be less likely to categorize Hiroshima as a complete disaster. Slavick’s choice of materials reminds viewers of the various perceptions of disaster. For instance, there is a white shape of ginkgo leaves and the negative outline of the leaves in blue. The shape is at once positive and negative space just as disaster may be simultaneously “positive” and “negative.”

Furthermore, Slavick artwork portrays a view of disaster that cannot be conveyed in an essay discussing disaster. The art may be interpreted in multiple ways, which is more difficult to do in writing. The ghostly outlines may represent the loss after disaster; the artists depicts one survivor’s experience by describing “the disappearance of the world as she[the survivor] knew it.” Slavick’s art also points forward to the aftermath of a disaster. The memory of the disaster still exists in the outline of the images, but there is something peaceful in the art. Soft white and clean blue point to a hopeful future. Disasters will always be remembered but are also able to be overcome.

January 24, 2014December 16, 2020

The United States of Emergency

I am greeted by the image of a New Orleanais kitchen in disarray upon entering the “State of Emergency” exhibit in the Van Every Gallery of the Visual Arts Center (VAC). The photo shows the aftermath of nature battling human development in the summer of 2005. Hurricane Katrina slammed the Louisiana coast, and showed no mercy for the city of New Orleans. The superiority of wind, water, and waves was demonstrated in several other works present at this exhibit: some resembled the destruction caused by tropical storms while others portrayed the inundation of urban areas by floods. “Flood Cubes” by Eben Goff is the piece I found to be the most visually and intellectually appealing due to its originality and candidness. The piece dually reflects on pollution and urbanization, two products of the anthropocene, in the Los Angeles region.

In January of 2010, before a heavy rainfall, Goff attached the clean chrome cubes (the same cubes that 4 years later were shipped to Davidson, North Carolina) to anchors fastened to the bottom of the Los Angeles River. The artist was familiar with the precipitation patterns of this region and anticipated that “winter rains are often heavier” even though “debris flow amounts are typically highest in fall after the dry summer months” (Eben Goff, 2013). Knowing this, he was able to set up the appropriate stage for the metal cubes to transform themselves into art.

The cubes are unique conceptually and artistically. Although originally clean, I find them covered in natural and “unnatural” elements, with only part of the silver metal frame visible. Part of a palm tree, or maybe a coconut tree, swings up from the clean wooden floor of the VAC to the top of the cube on my right. This cube has more of a mix between pieces of plants and plastic than the cube on my left. The frame of the cube on my left is facing me, so I walk around to analyze the part that is now covered in things “local” to Los Angeles. A surplus of yellow police tape is wrapped around the bottom, connecting the white plastic bag and red yarn on one side to the black plastic bag on the other. There is some grass and there are some leaves, but mostly this cube is covered in man-made objects. While scrutinizing this piece of art, I wonder at which point “unnatural” elements become “natural”. Does this occur through a piece of art representative of the things found in a stream? Does a stream become “unnatural” if it is floating down a cement riverbed? Successfully, Goff has brought two issues to light: urbanization and pollution.

In addition to the visuals on the floor, Goff provided instructions to replicate his work called “To Replenish a Flood Cube”. Replicate is not an accurate term because every cube is a result and creation of the most recent rainstorm and trash in the riverbed. Goff doesn’t edit the cube, but displays them raw and instructs, “receding floodwaters will reveal a Flood Cube replenished with a new coating of debris.”

In these instructions Goff also includes advice to receive the best results:

“An L.A. area rainstorm with total precipitation amounts of ½ inch will cause flooding of creeks, some major river channels, and is a sufficiently large storm for this sculpting process, however a storm with greater tan >1/2 inch total rainfall is ideal.”

Urbanization decreases the amount of time it takes rainfall to reach streams by removing the vegetation that normally absorbs this water. This rainfall flows more quickly over paved sidewalks and roads than it would through grass and forests, which creates more flooding in a shorter time period. Engineers paved over the original streambed of the Los Angeles River in 1938 in an attempt to solve the floods that had bothered the city in past years. Although Goff displays litter and debris to demonstrate the disaster that is our environment, the imminent floods caused by urbanization are what made the final product possible. This problem is not specific to Los Angeles: it is also portrayed in the very first image I saw upon entering the “State of Emergency” exhibit.

Site of interest: http://ebengoff.net/flood-cubes/

January 23, 2014December 16, 2020

Emotional Cognizance: Finding a Balance between Empathy and Distance when Discussing Disasters

As I am from metropolitan Atlanta, I was drawn to Katherine Taylor’s three part series, Atlanta Flooding. I was struck by the fact that I did not remember the flood at all. The VAC’s description notes that the heavy rains that caused the flood in Atlanta in 2009 also affected Mississippi, Tennessee, Alabama, and Arkansas, but I suppose because I was not aversely impacted, I didn’t make the effort to commit the event to memory.

The first thing I felt when looking at these painting was guilt. I felt guilty that I couldn’t remember an event that apparently caused culvert failure, school closings, and homes to be destroyed less than thirty minutes away from my home. Floods are topics of historic, biblical, and often cultural import, but with modern technology, they are now localized. Unless a flood garners a wide media following, it will rarely cause an outside party to think twice on it. I decided to do research on other floods in my area once I got back to my room, and did not feel guilty that I could not remember other natural disasters. I think the difference between my two reactions was that one event was depicted visually and the others in writing. Visual appeals to emotions can often be more effective at swaying an individual’s opinion than written appeals to reason (this is a crass oversimplification of a complex psychological issue, and there are many exceptions to this notion, but for the sake of space I’ll leave it here).

Why is this significant, and how can students of history benefit from an understanding of this idea? In order to be an informed global citizen, students should recognize the types of appeals texts make. Political cartoons, photographs, and films often inspire more intense reactions than academic dissertations, pamphlets, and news articles. They can lead to riots and play instrumental parts in revolutions. To know that emotion plays a key part in historical events is to be one step closer to understanding those events. In this sense, introspection and empathy are useful. However, too much empathy can lead to bias. For example, when a student is selecting sources to use in a paper, he should keep his own reaction to a text in mind. As Eli pointed out, historians often need to distance themselves emotionally from their topics in order to present a fair and accurate depiction. That’s not to say art should not be used as a source, but that it should be used with the understanding that it can sway a writer or reader without their knowledge.

Were I to write a paper on recent southern floods, I would have to consider the guilt I felt when looking on Atlanta Flooding when deciding whether or not to use it as a source. According to the VAC description, the artist combines colors, painting and drawing techniques, and stains on the paper to illustrate her point that floods are “contradictory” and “distorted.” I could use that analysis to my advantage were I to write a paper on the confusing and distorting effects of floods on southerners, or I could combine this series with other texts in order to make the point that while some southerners think floods are contradictory and distorting, they aren’t as disruptive as they appear. The quality would depend on my own conscientiousness as a writer and on my ability to incorporate other texts effectively. Toeing the line between empathy and emotional distance in a class on disasters will be a challenge this semester, but with this assignment as an introduction, I think it will prove to be a very manageable one.