..:recycled minds:..

A Local Food Project in Pennsylvania: First in a Series

noreply@blogger.com (dooglas carl) — Tue, 12 Dec 2017 03:49:00 +0000

by dooglas carl
December 11, 2017
1st in a series on local food

Locally sourced salads, cheese and beers at a small brewpub in
Pennsylvania. Photo courtesy of douglas carl.

Food. We eat it, drink it, socialize around it, enjoy it, critique it, take pictures of it, and then expel it. Food is an integral part of our existence, as we need it to survive, so it holds a place of utmost importance in our lives. Despite this central position of significance to our survival and social cohesion, people increasingly are distanced from the origins of the food that they eat. In our current era, food exists as a conundrum: it holds a central and a necessary part in human life, yet for many there is a magic to food, as it seemingly appears out of thin air in our grocery stores, quickie marts and restaurants. There exists a disconnect between what we put in our bellies and where that food originates and how it's created. There are also people, organizations and businesses working to change that lack of understanding and bridge the disconnect.

Personally, food has found a central part of my own life. Outside of need, I have worked in kitchens, bakeries, and fields, all places where food is grown, created, transformed, and made ready for consumption. As an anthropologist, my work around health issues always included the threads of food. From documenting local food practices, to studying the effects of school garden programs on students and their communities, to exploring the role of food in keeping people healthy, even when the overall study aim was something else, food always found a role in the story.

Now, having left academia and started consulting, I find myself working on an especially fun and food-focused project: developing and sustaining a brewpub with a focus on local sourcing, regional foods, and community building. This project brings many aspects of my personal interests and expertise into practice, allowing me to move beyond studying, theorizing and writing, and into creating anew and practicing. Having completed my master's and doctorate in an applied anthropology program, it's a joy to actually apply my work in a real world setting that has affected not just the small family-owned business that I am consulting for, but also the wider local and regional community, as well as more than two dozen small local businesses. And it's all about the food we eat!

This work, now two and a half years in, has been exhausting and rewarding. It has taken up most of my time, such that I scarcely have time to work on anything else, and has severely limited my work on other consulting projects. However the project is meeting with some success, and the reward of seeing a community coming together around food in a place where that has not happened much in the recent past is fulfilling. Not only that, it is a useful model, and teachable. And so, I will use this project as a means of writing about food, food culture, food business, sustainability, resilience, community building, and more. As an anthropologist, it is my duty to share my work and open it up to critique, to growth, to input, and to surprise. Please stay tuned, and feel free to question, comment, encourage, suggest, or critique this and the coming series on Local Food.

Cheers!

taming the wild human

noreply@blogger.com (dooglas carl) — Sun, 27 Mar 2016 16:41:00 +0000

by d00g on March 27, 2016
I was reading a short essay by Brian Doyle in the Sun magazine in which he described language as something wild, made of the natural world, something living, and with an awareness of its own. It lead me to thinking about the wild and its relationship with me - with us humans. The Wild. The wild within us humans. The idea of the wild part of ourselves - the animal, the natural, the other - made me consider where that wild is within me, and how it's so easy to be lost in the day to day of our lives that we allow ourselves to overlook that integral part of ourselves. The wild...

In fact, it is our very existence as humans that allows us (?), perhaps forces us, to exist beyond the wild in ourselves. This, perhaps and often in neglect of our wild selves. Our turn away is made possible through discipline. Many (most?) religions and spiritual traditions refer to the practice of said religion as practicing the discipline, or simply as the discipline. It is no coincidence that the concept of discipline exists as two sides of a coin. In one sense, discipline can be defined as simply a field of study or training. However, the concept also carries with it the connotations of control, morality, obedience, and punishment. Ouch.

But the identification of this fractured nature of religion and spirituality is not meant as a disparagement. Religion and spirituality are one of the very few human universals, they are found in some form in culture as it exists in its myriad forms around globe. Religion and spirituality are one of the earliest markers of the unique existence of us humans. By being human, we are religious or spiritual. By paying attention to spirit, by disciplining ourselves to spirit, we became and become human. At least partially.

Religion, of course, does not act alone as the sole creator of us humans. The start of our existence within families, communities, and environments is the most immediate form of discipline we experience as wild creatures. We don't often refer to this experience as a form of discipline. Instead, we call it socialization or enculturation - the learning or our culture. Really though, these concepts carry very similar notions of control (social), morality (norms and values), obedience and punishment (right and wrong).

And so... for us humans to exist, we are immediately turned away from our wild. Or perhaps, turned (pushed) towards a more patterned version of our wild. Then I asked myself, "Is a patterned wild the same as a tamed wild?" It is this essence of our patterned selves that we ignore with the most vigor. If not, I would posit that we would have been hard pressed as humans to have created the material culture that we have built up around us. It is through discipline that we have created the world around us. Yet, we hold dear the ethos of our freedom and personal freedoms above mush else - perhaps as a shield against the ultimate reality about ourselves. We are tamed.

Humans are tamed.

But do we ever fully lose that wild part of ourselves?

start.finish.start.finish

noreply@blogger.com (dooglas carl) — Mon, 07 Mar 2016 22:40:00 +0000

and really, what else can there be....?
but the start and finish.
over.
and.
over.

beginnings and ends are actually a false duality. the start and the finish are not mutually exclusive. therefor something can start, and no other change is needed. something can end, and no other change is needed. the start of things continues the evolution of who we are as beings. as do the ends of things. ends and beginnings occur at any time and are ongoing.

3.7.16

Transitions

noreply@blogger.com (dooglas carl) — Sun, 28 Feb 2016 22:56:00 +0000

by d00g on February 28, 2014

Recycled Minds was a labor of love for over eight years from 2005-2013, a stretch of life that paralleled my years in graduate school studying anthropology. For the most part, it was a satisfying labor, as I had begun to develop a recognized voice online, at least among those with an ear on the ground for anthropological musings. It was also a little bit bigger than me, as I was able to bring on some regular contributors, a number of great guest columns, and even a monthly virtual art show that featured artists from around the country. There was a moment when I thought Recycled Minds might grow bigger than the few of us working on it.

Graduate school proved satisfying as well. At once, it was a training like nothing I had experienced, and a transformational journey with new friends in new places. I was able to travel through and spend time in much of Latin America, and I worked on research projects in Peru, Mexico, Costa Rica, and Belize. For two of those eight years, I lived in southern Belize, working on a variety of projects, including research into the health practices of people who have access to a corrupt and underfunded national health care system that exists along side of traditional health systems that have maintained continuity for hundreds of years.

Transitioning out of grad-student life was an interesting and somewhat stressful time. Finalizing my dissertation based on so many years of work was challenging, draining, but ultimately rewarding (and successful!). It was also during this period that I began what many academics begin at this time: the job search. I can't claim to have done an exhaustive search for an academic job, but what searching I did left me uninspired and strangely, uninterested. I had enjoyed teaching university students as a PhD student and candidate, and life in the field was challenging in all the right ways. I thought transitioning to a academic position was my next step for a long time. And when it began to feel like that might not be my path after all, stress and conflicted feelings became the norm.

I know as a health researcher, stress is not all that great for one's health. Through this time, despite having just completed a major intellectual piece of work, I began to pull back from intellectual pursuits. Perhaps I was burned out, perhaps conflicted mental space played part, but I began to read less, and write less than that. It's a strange thing to hit reset at the age of 40, with only a minimal idea of what might be next. I thought I was over with all of that in my 20s! I had grown removed and disinterested in what I had been so long engaged with. There's more than all of this too, but distilled to an introduction, this is it.

And so the question I was left with was: "What now?"

tbc.....

Running Anthropology

noreply@blogger.com (dooglas carl) — Wed, 31 Dec 2014 04:08:00 +0000

Views from the ANThill
by douglas reeser on December 30, 2014

Running can lead to bonding with other runners and the community through which you run.
Photo courtesy of Larry D. Moore.

If the number of people running races is any indication, the act of running continues to grow in popularity in the U.S. According to the State of the Sport by Running USA, "Over the past 20 years, every year, except 2003, set a new high in the number of finishers in U.S. running events." In 2012, there were a record 15,534,000 race finishers and a record 26,370 running events in the U.S. alone." That's 5% of the U.S. population that finished a race, and the actual number of runners in the U.S. would far surpass this percentage, as not every runner competes in a race. Clearly, running is quite popular in the U.S., and with the continued surge in the sport that really gained mainstream acceptance in the 1960s there has been a subsequent rise of a running culture.

Running culture can be observed in any number of places - from the neighborhood running store, many of which organize runs through local streets and parks, to one of the many races that occur throughout the towns and cities of both the rural and urban U.S. As a runner and anthropologist, I've been witness to many aspects of running that suggests there are social aspects of the sport that are rarely discussed, and even less frequently studied. Around running, then, there exists a social matrix that serves some purpose to runners and the communities in which those runners are embedded.

Bonding.

At first glance, running may seem like an individualistic sport. You run on your own will and ability, you win a race or you don't, and there is nobody there to finish a race for you. However, talk with any number or runners who enjoy participating in their local 5k race or who belong to their local running club, and one commonality is sure to be the experience of bonding with other runners. This bonding occurs over a number of experiences, from striving to and reaching goals, to the finishing of a race, or to having a post-run drink. Running a certain distance, any distance, is an accomplishment that can be celebrated with others who have accomplished the same. It is this shared experience that drives bonding, and the social support derived through that bonding is one of the many factors that keep people running.

But what of those who don't run with others, those who don't race, those that run the solitary path? There are many runners who never match pace with another. They prefer the meditative sounds of their own strides and the time and space to let their mind wander while running alone. And yet, there is another type of bonding that can take place with these runners: community bonding. As an avid solo-runner myself, I have experienced community bonding in multiple contexts, each sharing a thread that links me, the runner, with the community through which I am running.

I offer three contexts wherein my solo running has bonded me with a local community. I began running in a small urban city in the southern U.S. that has miles of waterfront parks and trails. This recreational area is used by a variety of local people, including exercising mothers and fathers, people taking lunch breaks or out for an evening walk, volleyball players, kite flyers, cross fit trainers, and even homeless people. Over the course of weeks, then months, then years, I came to be a regular in one segment of this park, and I came to know the other regulars that also frequented the area. I made no good friends, but the smiles, nods, and hellos that I received every time I put on my running shoes made running - and my day - that much more enjoyable. I was often stopped by others to chat about running, or what I do, or to just say hello. I even received a Christmas card every year from one particularly interesting walker who fed and talked to the birds and squirrels. Through running, I experienced a bonding with a particular local community, one that makes use of the city park.

In southern Belize, where I lived for nearly a year and a half, I also ran regularly. There, running was less common, but most people walked or rode their bikes to move around the small seaside town. At first, people often stared as I ran by, and children often laughed and mocked me. However, over time, people would recognize me, and in a similar experience, I began getting smiles, waves, and greetings. Soon people would stop me in town to ask about my running - why I did it, where I ran, and how far - and these visits often turned into conversations. Running turned out to be a way for me to bond with the community. By the end of my time there, a number of people were running along the sea front, in groups even, enjoying the physical and social benefits of the sport.

As a final point of comparison, I recently moved to a fairly rural part of the northeastern U.S. Here, I run on the country roads, and it is here that I have received the most open hostility. I have had a large cup of soda dumped on and thrown at me from a passing vehicle, a person stopped their car and spit at me, and getting honked at is a normal occurrence. While I can't say for sure what drives this open hostility, I have come to suspect is for merely being on the road, which, in the minds of many more simple people, is the domain of cars and trucks only. Nonetheless, I am having a similar bonding experience with the local community. As I am seen more regularly by people in their yards, on their porch, or talking with neighbors, I am beginning to see those same smiles, nods, and hellos that I grew accustomed to elsewhere. What were at first looks of suspicion are now those of recognition. Again, my running through a community has allowed me, in some way, to bond with that community.

Running is not commonly studied by anthropologists, and the concept of running culture barely exists. However, because the concept is new does not mean that the thing itself does not exist. I see one of the driving forces of running culture as the bonding that runners experience. Most evident is the bonding with other runners over the shared experience and feelings of accomplishment. However, there is another bonding - a community bonding - that also takes place if one runs in the same locale over time. Running through a community repeatedly over time allows for a bonding to take place between the runner and that community. And while the depth of that bond may vary from runner to runner and community to community, there are no limits to how deep those bonds can become.

Thanks!

noreply@blogger.com (dooglas carl) — Sat, 22 Nov 2014 23:22:00 +0000

November 1, 2014
Recycled Minds is on an indefinite hiatus. Thanks to all who have read and participated in what we have done here.

Student Loans and Life Post-Graduate-School

noreply@blogger.com (dooglas carl) — Tue, 13 May 2014 18:05:00 +0000

Is Recycled Minds back from the dead? Am I? Or is student debt going to
bury me?
Picture: "Dance of Death" by Michael Wolgemut

Views from the ANThill
by douglas carl reeser on May 13, 2014

Back from the dead?

Maybe...

It's been a while since I or anyone else has written here for Recycled Minds - 6 months to be exact. And it's a shame really. We had a pretty good thing going, with a growing interest in guest contributions, and the inspiring evolution of our Picture Show, which was gaining the attention of artists and photographers from around the globe. The site was the product of organic growth combined with the labor of love, and since 2005 had gained a small but regular following.

Last fall, however, our core group of editors hit a series of transitions and life changes and Recycled Minds took a back seat to greater demands. I took a position 1500 miles away, while at the same time attempting to focus in on the completion of my dissertation. So while my writing here slowed down to a halt, I was reading and writing non-stop for months, first to get a draft done, and finally to complete what turned out to be a book-length manuscript about health care and the neoliberal State in Belize.

With a successful defense completed and graduation with a Ph.D. on the horizon, I have begun turning to a life post-graduate-school. And while I've taken this position as the director of a historic site in my home town, the most common question everyone asks is what I'm going to do now that I have a Ph.D. It's a confusing question, one that makes me feel like I'm not doing enough, or that I'm letting people down.

The reality is that I don't have all that many choices, partly because of the economic reality, and partly because of my own decisions. I taught university courses throughout my graduate school career, and I thoroughly enjoyed it. Challenging, interesting, rewarding, and fun, teaching allowed me to keep a finger on the pulse of a younger generation, while devising ways to encourage them to think critically about the world around them.

However, teaching is no longer a shoe-in career for those with a doctoral degree. Spots that do open up are ultra competitive, with most openings receiving easily 150 or more applications - at least in my field of anthropology. There is a good bet I could land a teaching spot somewhere in the U.S., but that would likely require a move to a distant part of the country, to a town or city that I see no future in. That's the part where my own personal decision has come in to play, and I've decided that's not a path I want to pursue. Either way, there is no guarantee that I would land a position.

Instead, as with so many of my colleagues, I could turn to adjuncting, wherein I would take a class or two at multiple universities or colleges in a certain region. The plight of adjuncts has been well documented (see this article from Inside Higher Education as an example), and there is no certainty in my being able to make ends meet through a role in the contingent labor force, searching for new classes to teach every semester.

In reality, there probably isn't any position out there in which I can make ends meet, even with my doctorate degree. While my graduate education was funded through assistantships and teaching positions from my university, I still had to take out student loans throughout my years of grad school. Loans allowed me to conduct research and write, and to attend and present at professional conferences, all of which are critical for strong resumes in the academic marketplace.

I took a year after completing my classwork attempting to secure grant funding for my Ph.D. research. I also taught during this time, and I continued to take out student loans, stashing them in my savings as a back-up to ensure that I could do my research. Despite many attempts, numerous rewrites and resubmissions, I only secured minimal funding for my research, and so set out to Belize, living on the loans I had taken out during the years prior.

Having accrued a considerable amount of student debt, I came back from the field, and began teaching again. After a semester, I took my current position, all the while paying tuition as a student to meet the continuous enrollment requirements until I finished my dissertation. This new position pays enough to meet my minimal living requirements, but comes nowhere near close to covering payments on my student loans.

Earlier this month, the day before I successfully defended my dissertation, I received an email from one of the loan companies attempting to collect from me. It read:

Hello DOUGLAS:

We want to remind you that your payment of $10667.56 is due.

If you want to pay an additional amount on specific loans, you can also do so through Account Access. For example, you can pay more on loans you have with higher interest rates or higher balances—just be sure to pay at least the minimum amount due for each of your individual loans.

This must be some kind of cruel joke. Ten thousand dollars?!?! I was still paying tuition, still enrolled as a graduate student, and my loans were in recollection. In these circumstances, an email like this could be seen as harassment. Sadly, this is only one of the handful of companies looking to collect, all doing so while I remained enrolled in graduate school.

And so, what am I going to do now that I'm a doctor? I wonder if it really matters. Non-payment on my loans has ruined my credit, and even my credit cards are being cancelled (even though I have maintained a perfect history with those banks). A regular paycheck would be eligible for wage deductions to pay off my loans, and as it is, I earn below the official poverty level already. Still, this isn't meant to be a complaint. I made the decisions in the first place, and I have been able to carve out a nice life living minimally.

But the student loans...

So what am I going to do? Well, this position is helpful, as I am employed as a contractor, so while I get paid for my services, I do not collect a W-2. In other words, I don't receive a paycheck that can be docked by the loan companies. That allows me to keep what little money I do earn in my own pocket. And really, the position is pretty cool. I have plans to start a small library based on local history, and am working on research that documents the historical significance of this site and the surrounding community. I am putting together a lecture series and other events, including classes, workshops, music, arts, and performance events. I'm also aiming to write some grants for the site. All of these things are in line with my anthropological background, and the diversity inherent in the position keeps it interesting and fun.

I also want to keep writing. I'll work on projects related to my dissertation research, whether it be in book form or a number or academic articles. I also want to continue writing here on Recycled Minds, documenting a different kind of life post-graduate-school - one in defiance of the banks and outside of academia and the mainstream. If you've made it this far in the article, thanks for reading! And be sure to check back sometimes - I'll try to keep things interesting, and work to bring some life back to Recycled Minds.

Proud To Be: a Native Ad for the SuperBowl

noreply@blogger.com (dooglas carl) — Sat, 01 Feb 2014 23:38:00 +0000

February 1, 2014

The National Congress of American Indians has just released this commercial, that for a variety reasons, will never air during the "Big Game" this Sunday night. The fight to change the name of the Washington Redskins, the professional football team in the nation's capital, was renewed this past year, but so far, ignorance has largely fueled the resistance to change. Help get this side of the argument heard and share this video widely.

And for more details about the legacy of offensive sports mascots and team names, check out the report from October 2013 put out by the National Congress of American Indians: Ending the Legacy of Racism in Sports and the Era of Harmful "Indian" Sports Mascots.

First Friday Picture Show: Born Under a Bad Sign ~ Paintings by Kevin Margitich

noreply@blogger.com (lana) — Fri, 03 Jan 2014 19:13:00 +0000

Recycled Minds Picture Show
by Kevin Margitich on January 3, 2014

"Born from Lions" 24" x 24"

As curator of the Recycled Minds Picture Show and an artist, I never planned to show my work on the site. This is the second time, though, and this time, the following paintings also comprise my December exhibit at Bogart Court in Scranton, Pennsylvania. I titled this show Born Under a Bad Sign. It may seem like an unlikely title to those close to me since my son was born this past year.

Animal heads, arrows, skulls, hex signs, sketches, silhouettes, bird nests. This exhibit talks about myth and folklore, birth and death, and family. That is my description of this body of work. The artwork is very minimal. I tend to paint a single object with no background other than a single color or a backdrop of stained wood. The titles of each piece are usually lines from my favorite books or album titles. Over the years, I have said that there is no hidden agenda in my work. I paint the hunted animal in fragile states. These images are simply what I find beautiful in the world.

Happy New Year!


"Sorrow Floats" 16" x 30"


"Witch Hunt" 6" x 6"

"A Few More Steps to Freedom" 12" x 6"

"A Plot Begins to Take Shape" 18" x 18"

"August 15th" 18"x 18"

"Bed Sharing" 8" x 8"

"Lurking Optimism" 24" x 10"

"May 13th" 24" x 6"

"Rabbit, Run" 6" x 6"

"The 2nd Field" 6" x 6"

"The Brother" 12" x 18"

"The Calm" 12" x 6"

"The Promise of Sleep" 10" x 16"

"Traveling Man" 18" x 18"

"Whiskey Rebellion" 12" x 24"

You can find me online at My Animal Revolution.

Profit Over Health

noreply@blogger.com (dooglas carl) — Fri, 13 Dec 2013 22:10:00 +0000

Should profit take priority of health? In the U.S., the answer
is yes. Photo courtesy of PR Watch.

Views from the ANThill
by douglas reeser on December 13, 2013.
With the recent roll-out of the Affordable Care Act in the U.S., the health care system has come under scrutiny and has garnered much media attention. I am currently working on my dissertation that, in part, examines the national health care system in the small Caribbean nation of Belize. Having spent about 2 years living and researching how people maintain their health, and what they do and when they do it when they get sick, I was able to get an up-close and detailed look at the challenges, successes, and shortfalls of a national health insurance scheme.

In Belize, the national health care system is run by the Ministry of Health, which operates the 2 arms of the public health system: NHI (the National Health Insurance scheme), and the BHIS (the Belize Health Information System). The BHIS is basically a surveillance system, that has over 90% of the population's health records in the system. Once someone is in the BHIS, they can visit any health facility in the country, including rural clinics, hospitals, private doctors, and even pharmacies, and their complete health records will be available for the provider. The BHIS, in theory, provides patients with more effective treatment and medication, and allows the Ministry of Health to more quickly identify broader public health needs and emergencies.

The NHI is the part of the Belize health system that provides care. Available to any citizen, NHI provides access to health care at any of the country's rural health clinics, the more comprehensive policlinics, as well hospital care. My research, conducted in a rural and somewhat isolated part of the country, showed a number of problems with how the NHI services were staffed, funded, and provided. I've chosen to highlight these aspects of the system in my dissertation, as a service to the people in Belize who were so hospitable towards me, and who rely on the services of NHI.

However, now that I've been back in the U.S. for the majority of the last year, it's become clear to me that in many ways, the Belizean system, with all of its faults and problems, is far superior to the situation I and many others face here in my own country. How so?

My income is currently (and has been for too many years) at or below the official poverty line. I was able to survive 8 years of graduate school by teaching and supplementing that meager adjunct salary with a substantial amount of student loans. I have never been able to afford health insurance, and thankfully, have never needed any significant health services. Any accident or health event that would have required care would have severely hampered my ability to complete my PhD. Such a need never materialized.

Still, I am one of the lucky ones. Health insurance remains out of the reach of millions of U.S. citizens, mainly because of high costs. The Affordable Care Act is set to bring those of us out of the fold, into a sort of social safety net. With my income, I and many of those millions should be able to get our health needs covered by the State (to the large displeasure of many, but that's a topic for another piece). The creation of such a safety net is one of the positives to the new health care legislation, but from my vantage point, it still falls short.

Part of the new legislation is the mandating that every U.S. citizen be covered by health insurance. Health insurance policies will remain in the hands of private companies, who, by most reports, will only raise premiums. Either way, the new act mandates that we pay private companies for our health care. This is the very opposite of a true national health care system that aims to provide universal access to care. It can be argued that an act such as the Affordable Care Act is for the private good - for the good of corporations - as much or more than it is for the public good.

By maintaining ties to the private insurance industry, millions of U.S. citizens who can afford health insurance will be required to maintain paying those premiums. However, being insured does not mean that one has access to health care. Most plans only cover costs after a certain amount is reached, anywhere from a few hundred to thousands of dollars. The prospect of having to pay $500, $1000, $5000 for health services that are not covered by their health insurance keeps many from seeking those services. Being covered by health insurance does not equate to universal coverage.

Governments around the globe are struggling with how to best guard the health of their citizenries. Is access to health services a human right? A small country like Belize (along with many others around the world), financially troubled and resource limited, has decided that yes, people have a right to health services. By maintaining a system tied to the private for-profit insurance industry, the U.S. has loudly decided that access to health services is not a human right. By keeping health services in corporate hands, profit, and not the health of people, will take priority.

And it is this fact that has me troubled, that profit is more important that public health. I live in a country - a country that I call my own - that does not see the health of its citizenry as a priority. My health, your health, your children's health does not matter as much as the bottom line. Profit is more important than health. That we live in a world where such a reality exists in arguably the most powerful country on the planet is hardly believable. The right to health is a universal human right - everyone born into this world deserves every chance to live a health and productive life, no matter where they are born or under what circumstances. Access to health services is the only way to make this very basic right a reality. The U.S. is far from such a reality. Too far.

First Friday Picture Show: Contemplative Abstractionism by Denise McKellick

noreply@blogger.com (dooglas carl) — Fri, 06 Dec 2013 11:00:00 +0000

Recycled Minds Picture Show

by Denise McKellick on December 6, 2013

Our December Picture Show features the mixed-media work of Philadelphia artist, musician, and poet, Denise McKellick. In her paintings she plays with the concept of conveying feelings and emotions through random objects and abstraction relying heavily on shape and color. Through photography she explores society's need to document our own lives through social media in images resulting from capturing brief, beautiful moments in time that would have gone unnoticed if not for the need to document.

Enjoy the rest of the show!

For Your Consideration this Thanksgiving

noreply@blogger.com (dooglas carl) — Wed, 27 Nov 2013 22:59:00 +0000

November 27, 2013
Another moving TedX talk, this one by photographer Aaron Huey that offers some true insight into the roots of the tradition of giving thanks. From TedX:

"Aaron Huey's effort to photograph poverty in America led him to the Pine Ridge Indian Reservation, where the struggle of the native Lakota people -- appalling, and largely ignored -- compelled him to refocus. Five years of work later, his haunting photos intertwine with a shocking history lesson in this bold, courageous talk."

Can Trees Communicate? With a Little Help from Fungi.

noreply@blogger.com (dooglas carl) — Wed, 13 Nov 2013 21:56:00 +0000

by douglas reeser on November 13, 2013
The idea that plants communicate is an old one, and increasingly, scientists are uncovering just how this communication takes place. Last year we wrote about how plants use sound and vibration to send signals to one another, and just this week I came across this short video featuring the work of Suzanne Simard, professor of Forest Sciences at the University of British Columbia. Simard explains how trees use their roots, with the help of fungi, to form networks in the forest that they use to feed and communicate with one another. Mother Trees, the old and grand trees we sometimes see, nourish vast networks in the forest, and these networks produce a diversity that protects trees and the forest from extreme events. The more we learn about nature, plants, the environment, and our surrounding (and supporting!) ecosystems, the more amazing it becomes.

Check out the video for more on how trees communicate in the forest:

Intellectual Pursuits and Life Outside Academia

noreply@blogger.com (dooglas carl) — Mon, 11 Nov 2013 19:25:00 +0000

In the world outside of academia, intellectual pursuits
increasingly seem to lack respect among the wider public.
Photo by douglas reeser.

by douglas reeser on November 9, 2013
I've been on a bit of a writing hiatus for about two months now. The break was mostly expected, but the extent to how deep of a break it would be has come as a surprise. I've been writing regularly for Recycled Minds since 2005, recently completed a two year stint as a contributing editor to Anthropology News of the American Anthropological Association, and have been working on completing my dissertation for about a year. These projects do not include a couple of peer-reviewed journal articles, and a few random pieces for other sites that I've also written recently. Writing has become somewhat of what I do, although it's largely a labor of love that has not brought any financial benefit in my direction.

And sadly, this lack of an income was one of the driving factors in my decision to take a few months, return to my roots in Pennsylvania, and produce a Halloween show. The production proved more intense than I fully anticipated, and for two months I was forced to drop everything else that I had been working on. To be fair, the move brought me back to family and old friends, all of whom I sorely missed, and I did some writing for the production - a 30 page script based on historical figures from the local area where the production was set. Still, if, through my 8 years of graduate school work and over 10 years of writing regularly, I had developed some sort of income for myself, I wonder if I would have made the same decision.

Now, with the Halloween production behind me, my financial outlook is no better, and I'm in a bit of a hole writing-wise. My PhD dissertation in anthropology, based on nearly 2 years of fieldwork in Belize, needs to be drafted in three weeks. My work on Recycled Minds has come to a complete standstill, and I'm finding it difficult to write about anything of significance. My other writing projects are left to the past, although I've somehow managed to hold onto an unpaid position working as a web manager/editor for an anthropological journal.

So why am I writing this? Why is this piece something for the public to consume? Why should anyone besides the voyeuristic among us care?

I'm realizing that mine is a story similar to many young and middle-aged adults who have taken the path of academia. We have poured our hearts and souls into our training, our studies, our research, our work, only to find that this path offers precious few of us a home, a place at the table of the academic intelligentsia. Not only that, but outside of our academic circles, there is little respect or understanding for what we have done. Our training, studies, research, and work are largely uninteresting to the general public, our families, our friends, most of whom have chosen different paths in life.

It seems that in the world outside of academia, a Ph.D. means nothing.

This realization is a bit sobering. I'm not sure what I expected, and really, I'm pretty sure I wasn't expecting anything - my choice to pursue a Ph.D. has always been about challenging myself as opposed to some end-goal or symbol of success. Still, I've been in the bubble of academia for over 8 years, and I've been completely transformed - not just by my studies and work, but by the experiences I've been lucky enough to have throughout my time in the academy. These experiences include meeting people from around the world and from an amazing array of backgrounds, traveling through parts of the world that most people don't even know about, immersing myself in thought and passionate discussion in a way I never had before, along with an unknowable number of unique moments experienced in my day-to-day life.

In short, my graduate school experience was transformative.

I am now a different person.

Yet, old friends and family, not to mention those more casual acquaintances don't seem to notice these changes, and they're largely uninterested in my experience, my knowledge, or the person I have become.

Still, this is not meant to be a "woe is me" column. I'm quite comfortable with the person I am, and beyond thankful for what I've been able to do and experience in my life. I would do nothing any different. I'm even excited about the position and challenges that I'm finding placed in front of me now. My point is that this lack of interest and respect in my transformation was unexpected. Perhaps it's simply people falling into old patterns as far as how they interact with and see me as a person. But I am different now. And I wonder what it is about our society, our culture, our communities that lets such a transformation go by unnoticed?

Further, I feel this disinterest in my work points to a wider devaluing of the academic and intellectual aspects of life. I've always thought these pursuits were invaluable to a healthy society, yet it seems that we've come to a point in the U.S. where such endeavors are not valued and often frowned upon. Experiencing this kind of backlash to the life I've chosen has been an eye-opener, and it may be a useful consideration for others pursuing a similar path.

First Friday Picture Show: Art with a Conscience by Cassandra Tondro

noreply@blogger.com (lana) — Fri, 01 Nov 2013 13:29:00 +0000

Recycled Minds Picture Show
by Cassandra Tondro on November 1, 2013

"Enchantment," 24 x 24 inches, repurposed acrylic latex paint on canvas

November's First Friday Picture Show features the green art of Cassandra Tondro. Cassandra Tondro is an artist who has found an innovative use for leftover house paint ‐‐ she repurposes it for her colorful abstract paintings. Cassandra rescues the paint from recycling centers in the Los Angeles area before it is disposed of. By visiting these outlets regularly, she has assembled a palette filled with unusual colors. She enjoys the challenge of working with the colors that she finds, rather than colors of her choice. Once a color is gone, it is unlikely that she will find the exact same color again. House paint comes in a variety of finishes, including flat, satin, semi‐gloss and eggshell, that add depth and texture to the surface of her paintings.

"Bubble Up," 18 x 18 inches, repurposed acrylic latex paint on canvas

Cassandra has developed several methods of working with the paint, including pouring, pulling, pressing and dripping it onto canvas. While the paint is wet, she often uses tools, washes of water, or her fingers to create imagery. The paint dries slowly, and in the process of drying, serendipitous things sometimes occur, such as bubbles that pop to reveal another color below.

"Azure," 24 x 12 inches, repurposed acrylic latex paint on canvas

Cassandra's eco‐friendly paintings create a unique focal point for contemporary interiors, and the green materials complement sustainable design. Collectors of Cassandra's work have said that her paintings evoke feelings of inspiration and joy, and are even more beautiful in person.

"Vortex," 30 x 24 inches, repurposed acrylic latex paint on canvas

Enjoy her show on Recycled Minds, and be sure to visit her at tondro.com for more art with a conscience!


"Fall," 24 x 12 inches, repurposed acrylic latex paint on canvas


"Monet's Garden," diptych, 36 x 48 inches, repurposed acrylic latex paint on canvas

"Indian Paintbrush," 24 x 30 inches, repurposed acrylic latex paint on canvas

"Golden Summer," 18 x 24 inches, repurposed acrylic latex paint on canvas

"Climber," 36 x 12 inches, repurposed acrylic latex paint on canvas

"Orchids 2," 24 x 30 inches, repurposed acrylic latex paint on canvas

"Magnificence," 24 x 24 inches, repurposed acrylic latex paint on canvas

"Spring," 40 x 30 inches, repurposed acrylic latex paint on canvas

"Transition Into Fall," 24 x 24 inches, repurposed acrylic latex paint on canvas

"Purple Maze," 30 x 24 inches, repurposed acrylic latex paint on canvas

"Red Weave," 36 x 24 inches, repurposed acrylic latex paint on canvas

"Flicker," 18 x 18 inches, repurposed acrylic latex paint on canvas

"Cosmos," diptych, 24 x 48 inches, repurposed acrylic latex paint on canvas

"Labyrinth," 24 x 30 inches, repurposed acrylic latex paint on canvas

"Shazam," 24 x 30 inches, repurposed acrylic latex paint on canvas

"Illusion," 30 x 24 inches, repurposed acrylic latex paint on canvas

Cassandra Tondro - tondro.com

A Folktale from Madagascar

noreply@blogger.com (dooglas carl) — Wed, 30 Oct 2013 02:45:00 +0000

by lana lynne on October 27, 2013
The other day we received the following email from the editor at Open Book Publishers, a pretty cool project based in the UK, and decided we would share it with you!

I am delighted to let you know about a new title in our World Oral Literature Series: How to Read a Folktale: The ‘Ibonia’ Epic from Madagascar by Lee Haring, which I thought might be of interest to readers of Recycled Minds.

How to Read a Folktale offers an English translation of Ibonia, a spellbinding tale of old Madagascar. Recorded when the Malagasy people were experiencing European contact for the first time, Ibonia proclaims the power of the ancestors against the foreigner. Its fairytale elements link it with European folktales, but the story is nonetheless very much a product of Madagascar. Inflating the form of folktale to epic proportions, it combines African-style praise poetry with Indonesian-style riddles and poems.

Through Ibonia, Lee Haring expertly helps readers to understand the very nature of folktales. His definitive translation, originally published in 1994, has now been fully revised to emphasize its poetic qualities, while his new introduction and detailed notes give insight to the fascinating imagination and symbols of the Malagasy. Haring’s research connects this exotic narrative with fundamental questions not only of anthropology but also of literary criticism.

Open Book Publishers is a non-profit organization, run by academics in Cambridge and London. We are committed to making high-quality research freely available to readers around the world. We rely on our friends and colleagues to assist in publicizing our books, and we thank you for your support.

Second Friday Picture Show: 20 Miles Around Shohola, Part II

noreply@blogger.com (lana) — Fri, 11 Oct 2013 20:22:00 +0000

A Second Friday Picture Show
by Jonathan K. Slingluff
Last week, our featured artist for October, Jonathan Slingluff, showcased photographs from an upcoming exhibit in Scranton, PA, "Photographs, Paintings and Gatherings." Today, we're sharing some shots of Slingluff's paintings, including a few detail pieces. Slingluff is well-known for his minimalist paintings of stark landscapes -- a perfect complement to a crisp autumn day. From our curator, Kevin:

I first saw Slingluff’s paintings when I was living in the Pocono Mountains in Pennsylvania. I fell in love with how he captured a landscape (oceans and cornfields primarily). His “Oceans” were dominated by an expansive sky taking the viewer away from what you would think of when visiting a beach. The sand and ocean were present in the most minimal way. The skyline taking up 4/5 of the canvas was what drew you in. It was like looking at a world of possibilities, dreams, melancholy wrapped up in blue paint. Why fill up a canvas with sand and water? I get that. How do you make a beach painting not look tacky? How do you make a skyline look classic and modern in the same stroke? Slingluff figured it out.

The paintings in this month’s Picture Show are not of Oceans, but Slingluff’s cornfields. I feel the same emotions when looking at the cornfields. The snow: the stalks barely holding for life. They are beautiful and speak volumes to me when thinking about the farms where I grew up. The expansive sky lets you know how small and large the world is in a few brush strokes. Years ago when talking to Jonathan about his work he said that he would rather see his “Oceans” on the wall in a cabin in the woods and the “Cornfields” at the beach. I always keep that in mind when I look at the collection of work that I have of his. I live in Philadelphia -- right in between the Atlantic Ocean and miles of cornfields.

First Friday Picture Show: 20 Miles Around Shohola, Part I

noreply@blogger.com (lana) — Fri, 04 Oct 2013 12:00:00 +0000

Recycled Minds Picture Show
by Jonathan K. Slingluff on October 4, 2013

"20 Miles Around Shohola": Photographs, Paintings & Gatherings

Our October Artist of the Month is Jonathan K. Slingluff. This is Part I of a two-part Picture Show focusing on Slingluff’s photography. Using medium and digital formats, this collection of photos is part of an upcoming exhibit in Scranton, PA, showcasing his photography, paintings, and “gatherings," which are objects he found within a 20 mile radius of the Shohola Waterfalls in northeastern Pennsylvania. Part II of the Picture Show will be on Recycled Minds next Friday and will focus on his paintings.

Slingluff’s work was featured on Recycled Minds in November 2011. Recycled Minds' curator, Kevin, caught up with him for a brief Q & A to get a little dialogue to go with Kevin's fascination with his Instagram updates. They talked coffee makers, beer, and the reintroduction of an old hobby, fly-fishing. But to get down to knowing person, sometimes it's best to ask the simple questions in life.

Enjoy this week's show, and be sure to check out Part II next week!

What is your favorite music to listen to while you paint?
Jazz or some slow-paced music. I like to avoid lyrics and keep it simple - nothing to hinder the process.

What is the last beer you drank that you loved?
Right now I’m opening Anchor’s Wheat beer. I also like Pepe Nero, Goose Island.

What were you doing around this time 20 years ago?
Exercising like crazy

What is the first thing you think about when I say, corn field (a frequent subject of Slingluff's art)?
Snow

If you could live anywhere in the U.S. where would it be?
Upstate New York

What website are you looking at a lot these days?
freecabinporn.com

Do you have a favorite artist at the moment?
Mickael Broth. @cooperhill.

What is your favorite thing to do on a Sunday afternoon?
Fly-fishing

Is there a movie that you wouldn’t mind watching once a week for the rest of your life?
Sideways or The Big Lebowski

First Friday Picture Show: Proyecto Fotovoz/Project Photovoice

noreply@blogger.com (dooglas carl) — Fri, 06 Sep 2013 10:00:00 +0000

Recycled Minds Picture Show

by Anne Pfister on September 6, 2013

~ Co-investigadoras y amigas queridas - Co-investigators and dear friends ~
Self-portrait by Anne E. Pfister

The collaborative project “Proyecto Fotovoz” was part of my ethnographic research exploring the experience of deafness in Mexico City, Mexico. These photos were taken during a photovoice project exploring deaf youth identity among sixth grade students at Instituto Pedagógico para Problemas de Lenguaje (IPPLIAP) from August 2012 – July 2013. Recognizing the necessity for multi-modal and visual communication choices with deaf participants, I planned the use of participatory, visual data collection methods. These methods included photovoice, which maximized deaf youth’s visual learning style and explored their visually-based understandings of the world.

During weekly photovoice workshops, my co-investigator, Marcela, and I presented themes we hoped would lend insight into the participants’ experiences and identities. The 19 youth participants responded to these themes through photography, and presented their photos to their peers in Lengua de Señas Mexicana (Mexican Sign Language, or LSM) each week. Participants were also interviewed individually in LSM to follow-up on ideas generated in group discussion during the workshop. The participants’ photos were used as guides and visual cues to augment ethnographic interviews, which in turn generated new research themes through participatory analysis.

In preparation for our community exposition, participants selected photos they felt best represented the project’s ten themes. The exposition was presented at a national convention for Mexican educators sponsored by IPPLIAP (the 9th Annual Señalees seminar and workshop for a bilingual model of educational for deaf children) and the sixth grade graduation ceremony at IPPLIAP. The photos presented here are a sample taken from our June-July 2013 collaborative exhibition.

All photos and titles are the participants’ original work which they’ve given me permission to share and use for my research. In preparation for the exposition, Marcela and I interviewed the participants to learn more about these particular photos. During the interview process, participants created the titles for their photos in LSM. The original titles were interpreted into Spanish by Marcela, who is deaf and fluent in Spanish and LSM, and I added English translations for this presentation. Interviews and participant-observation throughout the school year informed the thematic summaries of the photographs. The participants’ willingness to exhibit their creative photographic work constructed a venue through which we can learn more about the experience of being young and deaf in Mexico City.

Anne E. Pfister is a PhD candidate in biocultural-medical anthropology at the University of South Florida. Marcela Gómez de los Reyes is a sixth grade teacher at IPPLIAP. The self-portrait above shows these friends signing “FOTO EXPRESIÓN” in LSM to represent the title “Proyecto Fotovoz” prior to the opening of the exhibit. For more information about this research project, please contact Anne E. Pfister at: apfister10@gmail.com

~ Con mi mamá querida - With my dear mother ~
by Juana Lucia

Un día en mi vida / A day in my life

Deaf youth participants were asked to document a typical day in their lives by taking photos throughout the day. Juana Lucía chats with her mother in a mixture of signs and Spanish about her experiences at camp. Adrián shows off his new hairstyle for the camera and Alejandro crawled into his family’s chicken coop for a well-composed, feathery introduction.

~ Expresión Peluda - Hair Expression ~
by Adrián

María Isabel and Lupita, identical twins, demonstrated through photos their extraordinarily long school day. Like many of the students at IPPLIAP, they travel by public transportation to central Mexico City where IPPLIAP is located. This journey takes the twins nearly three hours in the morning and another three hours in the afternoon. They travel this distance because IPPLIAP offers a basic, bilingual education in LSM and Spanish.

~ Caballito al pollo - Chicken on horseback ~
by Alejandro

Some of the families I met made significant sacrifices so their deaf children could attend school among other deaf children and learn LSM, a rare opportunity for deaf Mexican children. Very few Mexican public schools are prepared to offer a bilingual education which is neither mandated nor adequately supported by Mexico’s public education sector. My interviews revealed that IPPLIAP’s bilingual environment offered many benefits to deaf children and their families, but the commitment to send their children to a school far from home comes at a price for these families. Many mothers wait on campus while their children are in class because there aren’t enough hours in the day for them to return home. Mexican mothers are central to domestic operations, and when these women are far from home during the week, their productivity is consequently restricted. These mothers are away from their other children and home-based chores, and have limited options to earn a salary during the hours their deaf children are in school. IPPLIAP families also spent a proportionally large amount of money on transportation.

~ Temprano en la mañana - Early in the morning ~
by Lupita

Throughout the project, the twins took many photos during their commute with their mother: These photos depicted walking through darkness with backpacks, and sleeping, eating and arranging intricate hairstyles on public transportation. Lupita’s clock showed they awake before 5 am to find seats on the first bus departing their semi-rural neighborhood for Mexico City. María Isabel’s photo of her walk home at the end of a day was taken around 7 pm.

~ La calle de mi casa - My street ~
by María Isabel

~ Los alumnos aprenden foto - The students learn photography ~
by Leonardo

Escuela y Aprendizaje – School & Learning

Participants selected photos to represent the theme school and learning, and the titles echo the importance of language and community at IPPLIAP. Leonardo expressed that the photovoice workshop was an important part of his cohort’s learning experience during their final year in primary school. Bladimir’s school uniform hung on the line to dry symbolized his salient school experiences: learning, supporting, and writing.

~ Aprendiendo, apoyando y escribiendo - Learning, supporting and writing ~
by Bladimir

~ Conviviendo en IPPLIAP - Together at IPPLIAP ~
by Ricardo

Ricardo’s photo titled “Conviviendo en IPPLIAP/Together at IPPLIAP” captured what many of the participants valued about their time at IPPLIAP: the feeling of community. The opportunity to socialize among other deaf people is crucial for sign language developemnt, one reason deaf schools are thought to offer much more than a basic education. Because the vast majority of deaf children are born into hearing families, most deaf children do not learn sign language until they come in contact with members of a deaf community. Youth participants recalled social isolation and limited understanding in predominantly hearing schools they attended prior to transferring to IPPLIAP. Deaf schools are important sites of language socailization, and for most of these participants, IPPLIAP was their first point of contact with LSM.

~ ¡Entendemos! - We get it! ~
by Angel Omar

The teacher’s smile in Angel Omar’s photo reassures us that this sign means “we understand” (ENTENDEMOS). Isabel’s photo demonstrates her cariño (affection) for her teacher, which is reinforced by Marcela’s favorite sign (I LOVE YOU). Signing community members included deaf teachers, classroom assistants, deaf peers and their family members who all served as LSM language models for participants. The employment of deaf professionals in Mexico’s public education sector is quite rare, but IPPLIAP was an exception. During the time of this investigation, all teachers and classroom assistants used LSM, and half of IPPLIAP’s teachers were deaf (7 of 14 pre-school and primary teachers).

~ Quiero a mi maestra - Affection for my teacher ~
by Isabel

~ La marque de la fuerza de mi nombre – The forceful mark of my name ~
by Roberto

Lengua de Señas Mexicana (LSM) - Mexican Sign Language

When Marcela and I asked the students to take photographs responding to questions about the importance of sign language in their lives, the responses didn’t come easily. Many responded with photos that didn’t seem to correspond with the theme. This may speak to the participants’ awareness of the minority status of LSM in Mexican society. It may also reflect their constant adaptation between two culturally-distinct linguistic contexts: the hearing environment of participants’ families and Mexican society at large, and the deaf community at IPPLIAP.

~ Apodos de mis amigos – My friends' sign names ~
by María Isabel

We can see the parallel existence of Spanish and LSM within this selection of photographs. The photo Roberto took of his name inked boldly across his arm symbolizes the omnipresence of written Spanish. María Isabel, Emiliano and Bladimir showed us the importance of a basic element of deaf culture: sign language “apodos” which represent their Spanish-given names (nicknames, or “sign names” as they are known in the United States). Sign names typically use the first letter of one’s name: Emiliano and Bladimir, respectively, showed us the signs for E and B in LSM. These LSM “apodos” are typically assigned by deaf community members, and often play off a person’s physical attributes, personality and/or tastes. As a person grows and changes, their sign name may be reassigned various times.

~ Seña Risueña – My cheerful sign name ~
by Emiliano

~ B de Bladimir – B is for Bladimir ~
by Bladimir

Kevin photographed the monument to Benito Juárez near Mexico City’s historical center. Deaf education is closely associated with Juárez (1806-1872), a cultural and political Mexican icon. Dear to Mexicans for many reasons, Juárez is especially cherished by deaf Mexicans for his role in establishing nationally-funded deaf education as part of his 1856 reforms. Juárez’s legacy to deaf education, the Escuela Nacional para Sordomudos, operated in Mexico City from 1866-1962. The Hemiciclo a Juárez Kevin captured here was the meeting place for annual Día del Sordo (Day of the Deaf) celebrations each November. For Kevin, this photograph symbolized the dedication of this former president to Mexican deaf education.

~ Juárez Sordo – Deaf Juárez ~
by Kevin

Dissemination Disaster: Being Forced to Stop Sharing Research Results

noreply@blogger.com (dooglas carl) — Mon, 26 Aug 2013 02:55:00 +0000

A graphic showing the use of traditional home remedies from my data
brochure. Image courtesy of doug reeser.

Views from the ANThill

by douglas reeser on August 25, 2013

The completion of fieldwork is but one milestone in the research process of an anthropologist. Data analysis and write-up remain, followed by the dissemination of our research findings, one of the key ethical codes for anthropologists. The relationships we develop in the field carry on in time and space, and ethically, we must share our findings in a timely manner with those that helped make the research possible. Yet, research results may take years to be published, and there is no widely accepted means of distributing our findings more quickly to our non-academic stakeholders.

After spending a semester away from my fieldsite at the completion of my own dissertation research, I planned a return to visit with friends and maintain the connections that I had made. My research included a diverse range of people throughout the community, including medical doctors, nurses, pharmacists, traditional healers, government and administrative officials, and women spanning wide economic, age and ethnic backgrounds. From the beginning of my research, I planned to share my dissertation and shorter reports with various stakeholders, but I wanted to share some of my preliminary results in a widely accessible format.

With my data only partially analyzed, I was not yet prepared to write a report, and I knew that few people would actually take the time to read such a document given the opportunity. I wanted to reach as much of the community as possible with my research results, and thought a visual approach might work best. So I set about creating graphic representations of my data, ending up with a tri-fold brochure that could be read through the graphics and a minimum of explanatory write-up.

With a pile of data brochures in hand, I returned to the field, and began visiting those who were interested in my research. The response I received was universally positive. The brochure engaged readers and often resulted in prolonged conversations about my research and related topics. A number of people urged me to set up a community meeting with other local health experts to present the graphics. Soon, I was getting requests for the brochure, and people were handing them out for me.

I was thrilled about the response to that point and wanted to get to the capital city to give the brochure to the national cultural research institute and the Ministry of Health, both of which had approved my research. I had emailed the brochure to both institutions before I arrived in country, but wanted to give a hard-copy as well, and after a few weeks I made it to the capital. At the cultural institute, the director wasn’t in, but I left it with other officers who had seen the digital version of the brochure. They thought it was a great idea, and said that the director thought that more researchers should produce something similar.

Feeling hopeful, I then walked the short distance to the Ministry of Health building, where I met with the head secretary, and I watched as she put a copy of the brochure in the personal folder of the director of the Ministry of Health. I was excited that someone in such a position might actually take a look at the brochure, and left the capital hopeful that my research might actually reach those that have the power to make change in the community where I worked.

Participants' perceptions of the national health care system
run by the Ministry of Health - the offending graphic from
my data brochure. Image courtesy of doug reeser.

After the five-hour journey back I proceeded to check my email. That’s when the bombshell hit. Waiting for me were multiple emails from officials at both institutions requesting that I contact them immediately. The tone and urgency of the emails suggested that I had done something wrong, and perhaps was in trouble with government.

It took a few phone calls and a couple of days, but the mystery became clear. Despite issuing a permit for my research, officials at the Ministry of Health had no recollection of my work, and upon seeing the brochure, called the cultural institute demanding the details of my research. Situated with more power in the institutional hierarchy of the government, the Ministry of Health then shut down the distribution of my data brochure, although at the threat of what consequences I never found out.

I discovered that officials made the request during a time of heightened critical media attention. Just a few weeks prior, 13 newborns in the neonatal section of the national hospital had died prematurely over the course of about a month. A team of international experts were sent in to investigate, and the ministry was taking a lot of heat for the deaths. My data brochure was seen as a potential source of further bad press, primarily because it included one graphic of people’s not very flattering perceptions of the national health care system.

The situation left me in a slight ethical quandary. In different circumstances, I may have ignored the threats from the government, and used my research to speak to power, and expose the deficits of an institution charged with safeguarding the public health. In this situation, however, doing so may have resulted in the termination of my research permits, threatened the utility of the government contacts I did have, and perhaps my removal from the country. For me, the risks of non-compliance outweighed the benefits of continued distribution of the brochure.

And so, for the remainder of my visit, I stopped distributing the brochure and declined requests that I present the data to the community. I have since returned to the US, where I continue work on my dissertation and shorter research reports. I plan to return later in the year, when I hope the media heat on the ministry has cooled and I can continue to share the results of my research. In this situation, an informed government only wanted to cover its own weaknesses, rendering my anthropological research powerless. However, with accessible data at its hands, an informed public has the potential to demand change and improve the lives of those living in the community.

*This column also appeared in the August online-edition of Anthropology News.

What makes someone Indigenous?

noreply@blogger.com (dooglas carl) — Fri, 16 Aug 2013 03:02:00 +0000

~ A collection of indigenous tools from Belize ~
Photo for Recycled Minds by Marah Cabral

Views from the ANThill
by douglas reeser on August 15, 2013
I'm one of the lucky ones. This evening I got in my car, drove to a restaurant, ate a nice meal, drank a couple craft brewed beers, and enjoyed some good conversation. It wasn't an expensive night out by U.S. standards, but taken in a global context, it certainly falls in the realm of the privileged. I might not even mention such a night, let alone write about it, if not for the conversation I had while eating.

As is lately the norm for me during my social outings, the conversation eventually turned to Belize. As an anthropologist, I am often engaged for my insights on various aspects of the human condition. In this case, the topics of gender, farming, and indigenous knowledge kind of came together from a few different tangents, and I found myself having to explain and defend indigenous knowledge.

It all started when the conversation turned to sexism, and the fact that women continue to struggle with not only abuse, but just the day-to-day experience of inequality and being taken advantage of. I mentioned that in indigenous communities in Belize, violence against women remains a serious issue.

"Why do we glorify these indigenous cultures?" my dinner partner asked. "In some respects, they are almost backwards, and didn't they sacrifice children in Central America?"

I was faced with an interesting conflation - the thought that modern indigenous cultures are the same as the ancient cultures from the same region. This conflation speaks to the problem with the term or concept of indigenous.

"Well," I began, "some ancient cultures did practice child sacrifice, and you may be thinking of the Inca, and the ice-mummy of the young girl who was sacrificed that was recently in the news. But the ancient cultures like the Inca, and modern indigenous peoples are two different things. Your comparison would be like looking back on today from 500 years in the future, and saying of the Amish that they were war mongers because they were bombing Afghanistan. They are U.S. citizens, right?"

This argument made sense to my dinner partner, and he recognized that there are all kinds of people in every culture, and that hierarchies can distort the picture of the whole. However, one thing remained unclear.

"What makes someone indigenous anyway?" he asked. "A family on a farm around here in Pennsylvania may have been there for generations, a couple hundred years even, yet they aren't considered indigenous. What's the difference?"

This was more difficult to talk through, and I recognized that: "Well, this is why the term is somewhat contested and unclear. Indigenous people are typically seen as having a connection to a certain place that stretches back many generations. But some Maya families in Belize, for instance, have only been there for a generation or two. Others have been there longer, but still, they are all Maya, and they are all seen as indigenous. So it's not only about the long-term connection to the land."

"Right," my friend responded, "people move, and have been moving forever and for all different reasons. So even if we don't glorify indigenous people, what is it about them that has our attention? Why does someone like you go to study and work with them?"

Here, I was standing on firmer ground. "Indigenous peoples are unique in this world," I started. "Whether or not they have been in one place for generations, they are drawing on cultural traditions that stretch back to a different era, from the time before Europeans invaded. These cultures were not perfect back then, they have changed over time, and they are not perfect today. What makes them special is that they are based in a distinctly non-western worldview. Their point of view, the way they see the world, address problems, survive and live their lives - the way they do these things is rooted in a different model of the world. These traditions enabled life to prosper around the globe for thousands of years, and we have done our best to obliterate them over the last 500 years. Indigenous knowledge represents a successful means of survival, that may very well offer us some clues as such becomes more challenging in the future."

I continued, "All of this is not to mention that indigenous people have been persecuted, killed, marginalized, ignored, moved off their land, manipulated, and worse for the last 500 years. In the eyes of indigenous peoples, European expansionism never stopped. It's still happening. Again, in Belize, just last month, Maya communities were finally granted land rights to lands they have been farming for generations. However, there is one caveat: the government has no responsibility to protect those rights. And guess what? The government has gone ahead and granted a U.S. oil company drilling rights on those very lands that it has no responsibility to protect."

I had made my point, and our conversation drifted elsewhere after getting interrupted by our server. But the greater point remains: in today's world, the concept of indigenous continues to carry weight because it needs to. In a sense, we are all indigenous people to somewhere. For many of us, that somewhere no longer exists, and those connections have been long severed. For some, however, new connections to place are being made. And I dream of the day when we are all indigenous. A time when we are all people of this earth, working together for the benefit of the greater good. But as long as there remain us and thems, others, less-developed, backwards, and those less worthy - as long as these divisions remain between us, we'll continue along in turmoil, squandering the opportunities for growth and learning that our ancient traditions can offer.

International Day of the World's Indigenous Peoples

noreply@blogger.com (dooglas carl) — Sat, 10 Aug 2013 02:08:00 +0000

The poster for the 2nd Decade of the International Day
of the World's Indigenous Peoples

by douglas reeser on August 9, 2013
Today is the International Day of the World's Indigenous Peoples, an annual event that aims to spotlight the vibrancy of indigenous cultures and the many issues faced by indigenous people around the world. First proclaimed in December, 1994 by the United Nations General Assembly, the day was to be observed on August 9th every year during the International Decade of the World's Indigenous People, which marks the first meeting of the UN Working Group on Indigenous Populations in 1982. Now extended through its second decade, the 2013 theme is "Indigenous peoples building alliances: Honouring treaties, agreements and other constructive arrangements."

According to the UN, The 2nd International Decade of the World's Indigenous People, which began in 2005, has five main objectives:

1) Promoting non-discrimination and inclusion of indigenous peoples in the design, implementation, and evaluation of international, regional and national processes regarding laws, policies, resources, programmes and projects;
2) Promoting full and effective participation of indigenous peoples in decisions which directly or indirectly affect their lifestyles, traditional lands and territories, their cultural integrity as indigenous peoples with collective rights or any other aspect of their lives, considering the principle of free, prior and informed consent;
3) Redefining development policies that depart from a vision of equity and that are culturally appropriate, including respect for the cultural and linguistic diversity of indigenous peoples;
4) Adopting targeted policies, programmes, projects and budgets for the development of indigenous peoples, including concrete benchmarks, and particular emphasis on indigenous women, children and youth;
5) Developing strong monitoring mechanisms and enhancing accountability at the international, regional and particularly the national level, regarding the implementation of legal, policy and operational frameworks for the protection of indigenous peoples and the improvement of their lives.

These are all noble goals, and it speaks to the slow progress of humanity as a whole, that these remain issues that need to be addressed. Sadly, most indigenous people, and those who work with them, will be able to provide unending examples that would help explain why these objectives remain important.

My own experience in Belize provides one such example. Just last month (July, 2013), the Belize Supreme Court ruled on a government appeal from a case in 2010 that granted Maya communities in southern Belize rights to their lands. The court reaffirmed that Maya had customary community ownership of their lands, however, it also ruled that the government has no duty to protect those rights. The ruling, it seems, was a victory and defeat all at once.

International Cry Magazine has a brief history of the case, which actually has roots in the colonial era, when Maya communities throughout the region were thrown into upheaval at the arrival of the Spanish. Centuries later, Maya communities in Belize were still not recognized as the owners of the land they had lived on and cultivated for generations. It took the Inter-American Commision on Human Rights to get things moving towards change, when in 2004, it issued a report stating that Maya have land rights, and the government of Belize has been violating those rights. Finally, in 2010, the country's own Supreme Court ruled the same, however the government appealed the case.

The latest ruling by the Supreme Court has been seen as a victory by many - Maya communities finally have recognized ownership of, and thus, some semblance of control over, their ancestral lands. However, the other part of the ruling is likely to prove more powerful than this long-overdue victory. By ruling that the government has no duty to protect those land rights, a door has been left open, and through that door has stepped U.S. Capital Energy, an oil company that has been granted permission by the government to drill for oil on those same Maya lands.

I wrote a bit about this situation in November, 2012, when Capital Oil was just getting started in Belize. At that point, the land rights case was still in the courts, so the company was walking softly. One has to wonder if that will now change, for while this situation has yet to fully play out, a conflict seems imminent. While the Maya own the land, the national government, with no duty to protect those ownership rights, is able to not recognize that Maya ownership. This position was made clear when the oil concession was granted.

Instead of recognizing Maya land ownership, the government has recognized its own right to the land by granting the oil concession. The oil company has the backing of the government, and so will likely continue the exploratory drilling project. The Maya are primarily farmers, with little history of protest or activism, and the oil company essentially has the backing of the government, and more important, its security forces - the police and the army. To be clear, there have been no reports of protest, or the presence of security forces, however, were it to come down to it, the government has made clear the side on which it lends its support. Its not with the Maya.

And so yes, even though while reading over the objectives for this 2nd Decade of Indigenous People, they strike me as being issues of the past, it is clear that these are issues still being faced today. On this day, it would seem appropriate for the U.N. to speak out against this very recent case in Belize. Such action, however, has so far not been on their agenda. Instead, they continue to issue a more general call of attention to indigenous peoples, the issues they face, and objectives for some nebulous entity to achieve. This is certainly important, but it's now been over 500 years of the same old story, and it is well past the time to become vocal, to become active, and to lend some real support to the plight of indigenous peoples, not just in Belize, but the world over.

First Friday Picture Show: Lavender Grid Installations by Greg Patch

noreply@blogger.com (dooglas carl) — Fri, 02 Aug 2013 12:00:00 +0000

Recycled Minds Picture Show
by Greg Patch on August 2, 2013

~ dune installation ~

Our August Picture Show features the unique work of Greg Patch. Greg is an artist and a traditional herbalist whose paintings portray the earth, the unconscious, and the one-ness of all life. His commitment to restoring the planet and its supported life to its natural balance is reflected in his work with individuals as a natural healer, in the environmental themes of his artwork, and in the non-toxic medium which is integral to the meaning of the finished work.

~ Green Wall Installation ~

Greg was introduced to art during the 1960s era of anti-establishment and high ideals. Studying in New Mexico and New York, Greg’s work evolved through a web of inquisitive explorations of the world surrounding him and of time and space through traditional landscape painting and social "happenings."

In his early experiences working for sculptors Willard Boepple and Robert Schuler, Patch was influenced by the texture, shape, and diversity of these internationally acclaimed artists' work. Influenced by alternative culture, Sacred Healing Arts and the study of indigenous cultures, the artist accomplishes a melding of 1960s idealism with traditional and futuristic science. In his work, Patch explores social movements with a naturalistic and simple style and method.

He continues to integrate and express movement in space with texture, as well as his medium, subject, approach, and holistic lifestyle.

Greg Patch is an artist whose work has continued to evolve, starting with his charcoal sketches and morphing to abstract expressionistic landscapes and figure studies. He continues to play with texture, shape, line and color, as well as with the relationship they hold with one another. He melds alternative healing practices with the use of non-toxic and recycled material with abstract expressionist roots. The artist has woven techniques to express rich textures, while expressing socio-environmental statements in his work and the mediums he chooses.

You can view more of Greg's work at two sites on the web: gregpatchart.com and greenartstudio.com

Lavender Grid Installation

Materials list: bamboo, earth pigment, eco-friendly, Environmental Art, grid, harmony, healing, plant energetics, recycled materials, seasonal energetics, sustainable art, symbolism, weave, webh

The structured piece is adaptable to many spaces. Considered with its materials, the space it is involved with, and an acknowledgment of its permanence, it is relevant with one form in separate or contrasting environments in separate or contrasting time spans. Laid flat outstretched the piece measures 56" x 64".

~ Azalea Installation ~

This photo sketch is with "lavender trimmings webh" embedded within an Azalea bush. At this angle it is slightly foreshadowed by a second bush. I placed the work slightly in the gulf formed by the two adjoining Azalea bushes.

~ Exterior with Palmate Installation ~

~ Long Needle Pine Installment ~

May, or April, Every Day Be Happy Earth Day... These sculptural pieces relate, to a great extent, to my returning to my early roots of making art, working as an apprentice to Willard Boepple at the Utica Boatworks in Utica, NY in the mid 1970s. At the time, Willard was working with corten steel. This experience was made available to me as I was finishing as a student in an alternative art educational foundational program at Munson-Williams-Proctor Institute of Art in Utica. Many thanks go out to Willard, my teachers and my experience there.

~ Interior Mantel Installation ~

~ Snow's Cut Installation ~

Snow's Cut is a section of the East Coast's Intracoastal Waterway between Wilmington NC and Carolina Beach, NC.

~ Shadow Grid Installation ~

~ Wave Installation ~

~ Endings Installation ~

Finally, Greg would like to share the following video of the Wave Installation for your additional enjoyment!

The Trickster's Race: a Blackfoot Story

noreply@blogger.com (dooglas carl) — Thu, 01 Aug 2013 02:05:00 +0000

In many stories, the Trickster is often a role filled by the Coyote.
Picture courtesy of wikimedia.org.

by douglas reeser on July 31, 2013
Across traditions around the globe, the Trickster is a famous character who plays a central role in many fables, stories, and tales. Rules and norms are usually meaningless to the Trickster, and people, gods, and animals have often been the prey of the Trickster's pranks. However, more often than not, there is a lesson to be learned when the Trickster enters the story, and upon hearing such a story, one is often left contemplating just what that lesson is.

I have recently begun working on a seasonal project, developing a Halloween event for the fall. In some ways, the Trickster is the perfect character from which to draw inspiration for such an event. I am seeking ways to break rules and norms, to make people uncomfortable, and leave them contemplating what they just experienced when they leave the event. In a sense, I am seeking to create an event that embodies the Trickster.

In a seemingly random occurrence, I was picking up some props for the event, and came across an old book by Stith Thompson, called "Tales of the North American Indians." First published in 1929, the book is a collection of folk stories from Native American groups from across the US. Most compelling to me at this point in time, is the fact that chapter three has a selection of 15 stories about the Trickster. I've begun reading them, not so much in search of specific ideas, but more in an effort to find inspiration from the character of the Trickster.

While looking for some more information about the book, I found that a website, Sacred Texts, has the book available to read for free online. In a short description of the book, the author of the site explains folk stories, such as those contained in Thompson's book:

"Westerners have been schooled by Shakespeare and TV sitcoms to expect that all stories will conclude in the final act with all of the loose ends tied up. This isn't always the case in the dream-like landscape of the folktale. Some folklore stories seem to go nowhere, or end in a conclusion that seems unsatisfying, or have repetitive episodes that appear to be added just to fill out the story. In modern literature, a story must either be a tragedy or a comedy; most folklore has elements of both. Folklore often violates our modern expectations of how a story should be shaped, while keeping us riveted, wanting to hear more. In this way folklore is much closer to real life, where 'stuff' happens, at random and often without any apparent internal logic."

Folk stories force the listener/reader to think about life. With meanings and lessons that are not immediately clear, folk stories are able to transcend time. I am finding that out as I read through the Trickster stories in Thompson's book. Take for instance, the following story, attributed to the Blackfoot, a tribe from the central plains of the US and Canada. While reading this story about Old Man, herds of elk and deer, and Coyote, I was left wondering who plays those roles in our world today? Who is leading the "herds" over the cliff? Who are the herds? Does anyone still look out for our expectant mothers? I'm reminded of people like Edward Snowden and Bradley Manning when I get to the end, when Coyote shows that he has the interests of the greater good at heart. What does the Trickster's Race make you think about?

The Trickster's Race.

Now Old Man went on and came to a place where deer and elk were playing a game called "Follow your leader." Old Man watched the game a while. Then he asked permission to play. He took the lead, sang a song, and ran about this way and that, and finally led them up to the edge of a cliff. Old Man jumped down and was knocked senseless. After a while he got up and called to the rest to follow.

"No, we might hurt ourselves."

"Oh!" said Old Man, "it is nice and soft her, and I had to sleep a while."

Then the elk all jumped down and were killed. Then Old Man said to the deer, "Now you jump."

"No," said the deer, "we shall not jump down, because the elk are all killed."

"No," said Old Man, "they are only laughing."

So the deer jumped down and were all killed. Now, when the elk were about to jump over, there was a female elk about to become a mother, and she begged Old Man not to make her jump, so he let her go. A few of the deer were also let go for the same reason. If he had not down this, all the elk and deer would have been killed.

Old Man was now busy butchering the animals that had been killed by falling over the cliff. When he was through butchering, he went out and found a place to camp. Then he carried his meat there and hung it up to dry. When he was all alone, a Coyote came to him. The Coyote had a shell on his neck, and one leg was tied up as if badly hurt.

The Coyote said to Old Man, "Give me something to eat."

Old Man said to him, "Give me that shell on your neck to skim the soup, and I will give you something to eat."

"No," said Coyote, "that shell is my medicine."

Then Old Man noticed that the Coyote had his leg tied up, and said, "Well, brother, I will run you a race for a meal."

"Well, said Coyote, "I am hurt. I cannot run."

"That makes no difference," said Old Man, "run anyway."

"Well," said Coyote, "I will run for a short distance."

"No," said Old Man, "you have to run a long distance."

Finally Coyote agreed. They were to run to a distant point, then back again. Coyote started out very slow, and kept crying for Old Man to wait, to wait. At last Coyote and Old Man came to the turning-point. Then Coyote took the bandage off his leg, began to run fast, and soon left Old Man far behind. He began to call out to all the coyotes, the animals, and mice, and they all came rushing up to Old Man's camp and began to eat his meat.

It was a long time before Old Man reached camp; but he kept calling out, "Leave me some meat, leave me some meat!"

Why be Normal? Thinking about Neurodiversity and Mental Health

noreply@blogger.com (dooglas carl) — Mon, 29 Jul 2013 14:10:00 +0000

Open Minds

Neurodiversity celebrates "the unique manifestations of
the human spirit."
Image courtesy of Reflections of a Chronic Anthropologist.

by Kristina Baines on July 29, 2013

Wherever you go, there you are. I’ve considered this old adage quite a bit lately in my thoughts and conversations. Wherever I turn, I can’t get away from the brain. By this, I don’t just mean my own thoughts, but conversations about the brain and what it does and how it makes us do what we do and be who we are. More specifically, these “brain-centered” conversations often turn to mental health and questions about the role of brain function and chemistry in keeping us well.

This flurry of mentally-focused activity is strange for me. I am not a brain scientist. I am not more than casually acquainted with mental illness. My son doesn’t even have ADHD. In fact, I spent the better part of the last decade chipping at the walls of the Cartesian divide between mental and physical health and, thus, the idea that there is mental illness distinct from physical illness at all. As part of my recent doctoral dissertation research, I explicitly blur those lines, arguing that what we do and what we think and how we feel are fundamentally intertwined.

Despite the recent WHO definition, which outlines this holistic view of health, it is clear from everyday living that our medical community, and our popular culture, are not giving up “mental health” discussions anytime soon. From ADHD to autism to depression to PTSD, it is difficult not to become involved in mental health debates. Lately, I feel compelled to leap into these discussions, ignoring that I have almost no personal or professional experience with any of these disorders. Complaints fly that our culture is over-diagnosing, over-labeling, over-medicating, under-counseling, ignoring potential causation and generally freaking out. We are caught up in a multi-faceted mental crisis.

This is more than a neurological crisis. It is a cultural crisis. And I am qualified to discuss a cultural crisis. One recent conversation with a therapist friend revealed her dismay at a parent eager to solidify an autism diagnosis despite evidence that the child was behaving “normally” in order for her child to be eligible for government-funded private school vouchers. These mental health labels come with such weight, and stay with children into their adult lives, that it seems common-sense to truly understand the reasons behind handing them out before we do so. Maybe we can all agree that it should not be strictly for financial benefit.

I have developed a career around the idea that labels, in their most basic sense, are bad. Humans are far too complex to be grouped by color or culture or behavior alone- let alone by “disorder.” How could that possibly be helpful? But, it seems that, most days, I am wrong. The frequency with which casual acquaintances mention their “disorders” as an explanation for behaviors is both shocking and comforting. It is shocking because of the ease at which these labels are owned, discussed and, importantly, medicated. It is comforting in that so many people no longer feel the need to hide their suffering and are willing to discuss it openly and work through it in public. Some of this comfort, both theirs and mine, stems from the recent movement to terminology that reflects a vision of brains that are “different” rather than “broken”- neuro-diversity rather than neurological disorders.

Despite my confliction about this whole neurological discussion, my reaction to discussion framed in terms of neuro-diversity are overwhelmingly positive. This idea that we can have difference without some kind of needing to “fix” or make something conform to a certain standard jives with my anthropological perspective. As anthropologists we see different cultures as “unique manifestations of the human spirit” (to paraphrase popular anthropologist Wade Davis), so seeing different ways of manifesting different neural processes as unique visions of the world has implications for inclusion and acceptance- both generally positive human endeavors. Instead of ostracizing folks with different neural processes and/or medicating them back to “normalcy,” we could learn to incorporate diverse learning styles, understand extreme moods and build healthier daily routines. We could take a walk together- a prescription currently being handed out by one of the leading mental health doctors in the UK.

I am not a doctor (well I am a doctor but not THAT kind of doctor). I am not a specialist. I have no personal experience. This discussion is not intended to diminish the suffering and expertise of the people and friends and families who are specialists in the area of mental health. What I do know is that, every day, I see new research about how environment matters to the health of our bodies. It matters in our everyday routines and daily health, but it also matters in the long term. More and more research shows that we, through our environmental interactions, have the power to change our bodies at the genetic level. Genes, neural pathways, our health- all dependent on what we think and what we do. Science is giving us the control back- I wonder if we will take it.

Kristina Baines is an ecological/medical anthropologist with a strong interest in corn, how what we do in our environment makes us well, and using innovative methods to make anthropology relevant and accessible to a wide audience. You can find out more about how these interests translate into projects and pursuits at www.coolanthropology.com or by contacting her at yesbaines@gmail.com.