Oh my word, what happened? Monday evening newsletter, who dis?
It started snowing late on Friday evening and we woke up to a dusting, and freezing temperatures. The two football/soccer games that we had arranged for our U11 team had to be canceled, so I didn’t have much to do and checked my slides for a presentation on Monday. I pulled the thread so much that I completely unwound the damn thing and ended up completely re-writing my entire presentation, carried away on an idea to talk more about affordances and ideas than practical considerations billed in the original invite.
It went well I think and I managed to over plan and run out of time as usual. That’s the nature of this stuff, there’s so much to talk about, you can come at it from so many angles and that’s why nobody has a handle on which aspects to prioritize. We’re still at the foggy, messy end of discourse before particular tracks or throughlines have been established.
It’s going to be a short one this week, I’m so behind and have so much to catch up on. I’m already reflecting on what things would be like if I was teaching, and perhaps it’s precisely because I’m not in class that I’m moving full-tilt and chaos is ensuing.
Stephan
Spaces to Connect
This week I met with a new colleague, the Algerian author, activist, and dissident Anouar Rahmani. We met up on a cold Tuesday and wandered up to the top of Mt. Washington so that Anouar could look at the view of the city he now calls home. He is currently Artist Protection Fund Fellow in residence at Carnegie Mellon University’s Department of Modern Languages and City of Asylum.
We enjoyed a fun morning, driving through Pittsburgh, out towards the steel mills in Braddock, up through Troy Hill, and back through the Mexican War Streets. It was a privilege to talk and exchange ideas, to learn about Anouar’s situation, that he is currently being tried in absentia, accused of breaking strict blasphemy laws, having been persecuted and harassed for years, since his novel “The City of White Shadows” was published, and he became a person of interest for his support of LGBTQ+ rights and a call for same-sex marriage to be recognized in Algeria.
We talked about books, teaching, and making films and he shared a great deal about his life and the culture shock of moving to America. He talks quickly, he is disarmingly funny and I enjoyed his energy, able to switch topics quickly, from stories about his parents to finding a good meal in the ‘burgh, to reading American authors. I’m already looking forward to our next meeting.
We finished up talking about teaching and working with students. He has already contributed to sessions in Arabic and French. I’m hoping that he can teach a course about himself, center his work and his experience, share this with students who will never meet an author like Anouar, writing for his life, thinking about a home that he may never return to, that also in a way, he’ll never leave.
Life Lessons
The world is a wretched place at the moment. I took a friend’s advice to look at the news later in the day, only delaying the awfulness until the evening. There seems to be little hope of peace in Ukraine. I keep hoping that there is a way out, that someone can convince Putin that he can somehow retreat with his ego intact, I don’t care if he declares he has won, as long as the bombing ends and people can live their lives. He can believe what he wants to, changing his mind is not what matters. Stopping the war is everything.
I watched clips from Judge Ketanji Brown Jackson’s confirmation hearing and couldn’t believe the bullshit she had to sit through. What a dignified, calm, incredible Black woman she is, that she had to put up with the circus of idiots in front of her, making up nonsense and twisting conspiracy nightmare crap only to raise money for their campaigns and keep their spoons stirring the culture war bowl of mud.
My last bit of awfulness was seeing Afghani girls returning home from school, having been told by the Taliban that they needed time to finalize a new uniform, one that wouldn’t be un-Islamic or contravene Sharia law. This has come from the Ministry for Propagation of Virtue and Prevention of Vice, which took over from the now-closed Ministry for Women.
Where did all this come from? What is happening in the world that there are people who simply don’t care about the suffering of others? Through their actions they are preserving something that doesn’t exist, the illusion of control, a mirage of indefensible righteousness, serving only power and greed.
Lost and Found
At last, I found a moment to play with India ink and scratch a few pictures with a bamboo pen. I love the line, ink splatter is good fun, would have liked them to “explode” a little more. I used Just Portrait, a site with reference images, there’s a nice mix of faces to choose from.
India ink is dense and gloopy, there’s a sweet scratchy sound as I spread it over the paper, I tap the stick against my wrist to let those drops fall on the paper.
Thank you
Finally, we went to a magic show, in person, live, with real people all around us. I’ve never been to the Carnegie Library in Homestead with its beautiful theatre, wooden seats, and ornate stage. It is functional and ornate, such a strange mix of styles from the turn of the twentieth century, an old music hall with an organ and velvet curtained stage.
We saw Justin Willman whose show Magic for Humans is a big hit on Netflix. He’s more standup than a magician, but the tricks were genuinely mindblowing and we got to play a brilliant trick on one unsuspecting member of the audience.
We’re really hoping that the weather turns, I need some sunshine to lift my mood. I haven’t been out on the bike for a while and am fed up with wearing warm clothing indoors when really shorts should be on the menu.
I hope that you’re well and things not getting you down too much. Look for the moments that bring you joy and find ways to connect with people, with yourself too. I had a chat with my kid this week, talking about the sad, untimely death of the Foo Fighters drummer Taylor Hawkins. We talked about how music really lands when the musicians have intent when they are fully committed and give you that gift of sound. I don’t want to add a Foo’s song here, instead, I give you Carrie Robinson, recorded on Chicago's Maxwell Street in 1965.
Speak to you later in the week, there’s always hope.
Issue #111 - The Spaces in Between
As usual, you hit the multiple nails on their heads! Thanks so much! I know I can buy you a cup of coffee, but I'd much rather buy you a beer : ) I'm taking my granddaughter to the opera tonight to see/hear Carmen (her name, too). Then I'm off to an in-person conference on Thursday, in Miami, so I guess I'll get to warm up my bones a bit and also visit family and friends. Back the evening of April 6th for the final stretch! Please let me know when you're going to be around (at CMU) so we can catch up over lunch! Keep up the great work! You never cease to amaze me: Stephan the public intellectual, artist, ed tech whiz, etc., etc., etc. I'm happy to call you a friend ; )