Nate Barksdale Writing + Design.

I saw this telescope image of the Horsehead Nebula (1500 light years from Earth) and the first thing I thought was: Elvis! Better than the second thing, which was: Blagojavich! Or the third: Andrew Jackson! But the fourth thing was a snippet-observation I recalled from somewhere, pointing out how the image processing and selection of all of those drop-dead amazing images we get from the Hubble Space Telescope is less about the raw truth of what’s out there than about the very cultural choices and traditions that guide our observer’s eye.

It’s not often that aesthetics are considered in the study of science, but [University of Chicago grad student Elizabeth] Kessler maintains it is necessary if one is to fully understand the space telescope and its impact.

“There’s a lot of translation that occurs between the data the Hubble collects and the final images that are shared with the public,” Kessler explains. Translating raw data into the “pretty pictures” that have become a staple of newspaper front pages requires careful image processing.

Astronomers and image specialists strive for realistic representations of the cosmos, yet they make subjective choices regarding contrast, composition and color. The Hubble images are complex representations of the cosmos that balance both art and science. In that sense, as well as in their appearance and emotional impact, Kessler says they resemble 19th century Romantic landscape paintings, especially those of the American West.

“The aesthetic choices made result in a sense of majesty and wonder about nature and how spectacular it can be, just as the paintings of the American West did,” Kessler said. “The Hubble images are part of the Romantic landscape tradition. They fit that popular, familiar model of what the natural world should look like.”

Originally published at culture-making.com.

I’d have to say, all but the very best blogs probably fall way short of the Wunderkammer standard. Certainly the millions of abandoned Blogger accounts don’t amount to much in the way of personal taxonomy. Nor does “a style and order specific to his or her own vision” explain the standardized utility of reading posts in plain old reverse chronological order.

Internet | Get up to speed with the view of blogs as descended from Renaissance “cabinets of wonder,” or Wunderkammern. Back then, they were encyclopedic, idiosyncratic collections of objects whose categorical boundaries were yet to be defined by modern science. Bloggers, too, “present a collection of images, ideas, and objects in a style and order specific to his or her own vision: a personal taxonomy.” [Cabinet of Wonder, Julian Dibbell]

Originally published at culture-making.com.

Here’s a synthesis of an email/chat exchange I had with a friend over the weekend.

E: The beginning of daylight savings and the realization that it won’t be lighter than it is now until sometime in February has me looking for “light in the darkness.” I saw this auto store last night, and liked it.

N: Did you know that Goethe’s last words were “More light!”?

E: Oh, how wonderful! The only Goethe quote I know is “everything is a leaf”

N: The really funny part is, you see it quoted like that, but I looked it up and evidently his final sentence was “Could you open up the shade in the window so as to let in more light?”

E: That’s so much better! Less mystical, and therefore more so.

…

Coda: Of course now I had to look it all up again. Goethe’s last words, like those of many a famous person, are contested. The top alternate contendor is, “Come, my little daughter, and give me your little paw.” The original German version of More Light is, ”Macht doch den zweiten Fensterladen in der Stube auch auf, damit mehr Licht hereinkomme.” Pesky German habit of ending the sentence with a verb! Well, “Come in here!” has its own mystical charm too.

Originally published at culture-making.com.

A fascinating fable of cultural connection (and not-quite-connection). I wonder if there’s a muslim analogue to this need for folks who don’t follow your traditions. Maybe something during Ramadan, though no specifics spring to mind …

Like any archaic tradition, getting non-Jews to help on the Sabbath has evolved over time. Talmudic scholars, Jewish academics and Israeli lawmakers all have wrestled with how to balance religious devotion and modern life.

In this Jerusalem neighborhood, once the sun sets on Fridays and the streets are cordoned off, the only driver on the roads is Abu Ali, in his white taxi, with a red police light that he puts on the roof and special laminated signs he sticks in the front window so his car isn’t mistakenly attacked.

Since observant Jews can’t ask for help, they use a special code with Abu Ali. If they need the air conditioner turned on, they tell him that it’s hot. If they need a light turned on or a fuse changed, they say that it’s dark.

Abu Ali charges about $10 per visit. If he has to rush a pregnant woman to the hospital — something he said he sometimes has to do three or for times each Sabbath — it costs about $30.

The families aren’t supposed to pay him for his services, so the community set up a box outside the neighborhood synagogue where people can put the money. If Abu Ali has to come collect directly, it costs an extra $5.

Originally published at culture-making.com.

As the world (or at least a good 4 billion of us) turn our thoughts towards Beijing this weekend, I recalled this wonderful in-studio performance from 2005, by a musical ensemble led (but by no means dominated — he’s merely a virtuoso among virtuosos) by cellist Yo-Yo Ma. They weave together many of the deep, rich musical cultures along the Silk Road, the ancient trade route linking Europe with the Far East: Persian, Roma, Mongolian, Chinese, etc. It’s amazing watching this group of diverse musicians interact with, really listen and respond to, one another.

Originally published at culture-making.com.

Of course, as the second half of the article notes, conversion is not always so easy — as the passage of recent anti-conversion laws (and an uptick in persecution) in many regions of India make clear. I’ve always found it interesting how the English-language press in India invariably uses the passive voice to describe it — “he was converted to Christianity” — rather than the perky individualist western-style active: “he converted.” One can find echoes to this in different attitudes towards western-individualist choises about marriage, career, etc.

Sometimes conversion is gradual, but quite commonly things come to a head in a single instant, which can be triggered by a text, an image, a ceremony or some private realisation. A religious person would call such a moment a summons from God; a psychologist might speak of an instant when the walls between the conscious and unconscious break down, perhaps because an external stimulus—words, a picture, a rite—connects with something very deep inside.

For people of an artistic bent, the catalyst is often a religious image which serves as a window into a new reality. One recurring theme in conversion stories is that cultural forms which are, on the face of it, foreign to the convert somehow feel familiar, like a homecoming. That, the convert feels, “is what I have always believed without being fully aware of it.”

Take Jennie Baker, an ethnic Chinese nurse who moved from Malaysia to England. She was an evangelical, practising but not quite satisfied with a Christianity that eschews aids to worship such as pictures, incense or elaborate rites. When she first walked into an Orthodox church, and took in the icons that occupied every inch of wall-space, everything in this “new” world made sense to her, and some teachings, like the idea that every home should have a corner for icons and prayer, resonated with her Asian heritage. Soon she and her English husband helped establish a Greek Orthodox parish in Lancashire.

Originally published at culture-making.com.