Showing posts with label Bright Eyes and a Bushy Tail. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Bright Eyes and a Bushy Tail. Show all posts

Monday, January 21, 2013

Nerd Rap Sheet

My friend B is a magnificent girl. Today she confessed her ubernerd origins to me: in high school she was the type who could carry on an entire conversation in Elvish and always threatened to don a cloak to school. I smiled at her after this revelation and admitted dryly, "I went through a phase where I collected Noah's ark figurines. I have to have at least twelve or so stashed in a closet at my parents' house."




    

=  Friend MFEO's, am I right??

Tonight I wanted to let all the inner nerds out there have a communal moment in the sun. Here is a recap of my more special adolescent fancies, so that some of you can feel not-so-nerdy and some of you who think you're too cool for school can feel even MORE cool than ever (though I bet you know more about the Kardashians than B or I ever will- LAME.):

My American girl doll (Samantha) occupied a prominent place in my room til probably... ninth grade.

I played the flute in middle school. I think I only made it as high as 3rd chair.

I never went to detention once in my entire 13 years of public school.

During a cross-country road trip with my cousins I prepared and presented an oral report on Adam-Ondi-Ahman. They threatened to maroon me.

For several tween years my favorite movie was The Net with Sandra Bullock, and I cherished the dream of being a computer hacker who spent her days chatting with friends whom she knew only by their edgy screen names and avatars.

Thanks to the brothers, I am fully versed in the Star Wars and Lord of the Rings universes. I held my own in a group of boys last night who were discussing lore, out-factoiding and out-quoting them all! Owning it.

And, the nerdishness continues into the present day. For example,

I have a blog.

I have a Master's degree in Art History.

The end.

Thursday, April 19, 2012

Willing to give up... what?

This devotional was a gold mine of ah-ha! moments for me this week. Watch, and then we'll talk:



My family and I have had countless discussions about the "Abrahamic trials" in our lives, meaning the trials wherein we suspect Heavenly Father wants us to put things we love dearly, things we hope for fervently, or things we are addicted to, symbolically on the altar and just... let them go. Just like Abraham did with Isaac. It is a lot easier for us to understand Abraham's experience when it's our own careers, our pride, or sometimes even our hope for our future families that we're being asked to sacrifice. Rough stuff. Refreshingly, Heavenly Father was very clear how that story ended for Abraham. One word: Blessings! And so it will be for us. But, as Brother Moody reminds us, they often aren't the blessings we hope for, or dream of, or want... but we do know that with those blessings that Heavenly Father sees fit to send us, we will be exalted.

Lately I keep thinking about the value of having spiritual vision (they mention it in general conference in this talk and this talk). If you find yourself unable to deal with the sight of things you hope for seemingly being taken from you, just try, TRY to keep in mind a vision of your marvelous eventual exaltation. Being with a glorious God who loves you, and a family who loves you, and your own spirit, at peace, forever.

Brother Moody reintroduced me to the story of Gideon's army, which I thought makes a fantastic "Part 2" to the story of Abraham and Isaac. Abraham wanted kids, but was asked to kill his only son. Gideon wanted to live, to see the glory of a triumphant Israel, but was asked to GET RID of his army, in order that that Lord might fight his battles for him. What an incredible amount of faith it must have taken for Gideon to do so, to be game when the Lord asked him to send away his men and to trust in the mental vision of the army of angels that the Lord planned to employ in Israel's defense.

I read a blog post from Harvard Business Review this week that asked, "What are you willing to ignore in exchange for success?" We all have lists of things we are willing to work on in order to achieve our goals, but it's equally important to conceptualize what we are willing to forgo for those same goals. The things that distract and dilute us-- they must be identified, and we must prepare to turn away from them.

Despite the somber tone of this post, my life has been pretty ok lately. Therein lies my special challenge. In times of self-sufficiency, I feel Heavenly Father asks me to put my ability to focus on the altar for him. I feel the prompting to buckle down and read my scriptures, to pray fervently with real intent for others (even if I don't feel much need to pray for things in my own life). I'm grateful for little reminders over the last two weeks to forgo and forget the little distractions, like tv and facebook, that creep in during these times of complacency. I am reminded that these little bad habits wreck what might otherwise be an important time of rest, learning, service, and preparation for me.

I have been counselling with a lot of friends lately who are in transition: quitting jobs, moving states, breaking up, having babies, etc. These things are hard, and it can be equally hard the day after they are all over, to drum up a vision of what will come next, to manufacture an understanding of how you are going to be better today than you were during comfortable, convenient yesterday. I'm writing from my current place of relative peace and stability to those in transition to say, "Wait for it!" I'm cheering for you! And, this too shall pass.

Even if I don't know who you are, Heavenly Father and Jesus Christ do. Talk to them. They can lighten your burden and broaden your vision. Good things await. Safety, joy, peace, and prosperity have been ordered. Just gotta run the rest of the race first, one step at a time, like we all are.

Thursday, February 16, 2012

LIFEBLOOD!

Due to some weird security thing, I have been locked out of all my Google products (Gmail, Reader, Blogger) for the last three days. That felt like an ETERNITY. Holy cow I have learned where my real addiction lies. Everyone, beware. The things that you put on the internet that you thought were basically carved into stone are, in fact, still just simple electronic digits on a tiny chip that can be gone--poof!-- in an instant.


Ahem. Adding to that rather solemn declaration, I wanted to show you this tragic video, it is officially the first Katy Perry song I love:



Do you have one that got away? I have One with a capital O, and then a few others-sort-of-I'll-give'em-a-lowercase-o. I let myself think about them this week; my Valentine's day was one of nostalgia, coming after I taught a Relief Society lesson where we all dug really deep into the reality of the healing power of Jesus Christ in times of heartbreak. I don't have any real regrets about any of those boys in my past. Either the timing wasn't right, one of us wasn't ready, or we were meant for someone else. And that's the way the cookie's gonna crumble, every time but one! I just felt like taking the holiday to try and glean some knowledge about myself, where I am, what I want, what's holding me back. I think I'm doing ok. I can love with a heart and a half, and I will get the chance to love someone abundantly someday soon. Heaven help that dastardly slow boy, wherever he is. Literally. Heaven- HELP HIM!

Hope you had a good one. I had some incredible friends looking out for me this week, even from across the country. So grateful for love in its many beautiful forms.

Only the girls in my Relief Society will know exactly what this means. Love to you all!

Monday, December 26, 2011

4.0 and 2011

Breaking news: I NAILED my classes with another 4.0 and I DO feel like being braggy about it. I worked so dang hard, and had to deal with some MAJOR personality clashes in one class. I literally poured my sweat, tears, and thousands of dollars into finals week this semester (the money, fyi, went to buying myself a new laptop and paying for the repairs of a second, borrowed laptop that I also ruined during finals... long story). Phew.  The image of grief I posted at the end of my first semester of grad school (here ya go) flickered to mind after I turned in my final paper a week ago, but I'm happy to report that I'm not as wrecked as I was that first semester, which was, amazingly, two whole years ago. I can't believe how long this master's is taking. TWO SEMESTERS TO GO!!!!!

2012's gonna be good. Gonna be a game changer. This scares me a little, I've actually grown to enjoy DC this year, more than I have in years past, when I've merely tolerated it. Visions of moving to the West Coast still dance around in my head, but for now I'm just going to leave my moving/career plans to fate and faith.

I don't want to make resolutions. I DO want to ruminate on what's just happened this year, though. Some years go quicker than others; this year was a long, slow haul with lots of mini-mile-markers that resulted in gradual progress and change in my life.

Biggest surprise of 2011: my job nannying Cobb, which came out of the blue in March and was a 1,000% improvement over my previous job managing the bakery. Cobb is a delightful little 2 year old, and his parents are absolute joys to work with. They love their son so much and support me in anything I want to do to help him develop into a happy, healthy, smart young man. I've really appreciated this job because, among its many, many great aspects, it has helped me realize how intellectually stimulating and rewarding the act of raising children full-time can be. I've had reservations about that in the past. But now I know I can do it, do it well, and absolutely love it. (Please oh please let my future children be perfect angels like Little Man is!)

Clearest memory of 2011: Running the last five miles of my first half marathon in November at full speed :)

Best unexpected answer to prayer: this is random, but a few weeks ago, coming home from one of my finals, I started to feel an unreasonable amount of anxiety about my train. I think I'd seen some sketchy guy with a pink suitcase on the platform or something. At any rate, by the time the train reached the bridge over the Potomac on its way into Virginia, I was convinced that death/an explosion was imminent. I know this sounds dramatic but it's true, and inexplicable. I don't do anxiety like that hardly ever. I started to pray. More earnestly that I had in a long while. I recognized the change in humility and intent with which I now spoke to my maker, and I acknowledged that I was not, in fact, where I would like to be should I really truly meet him in the next few moments. As the seconds wore on and the train chugged forward, my prayer turned to one of pleading for my family in case they were the ones in danger, and then, heart rate slowing, I began to thank Him for the many wonderful aspects of school, friends, and work that had been blessing my life lately. I thanked him for the gift of his son, Jesus Christ, who has been teaching me how to have faith and not fear all year. I told Heavenly Father about my plan to recommit to him and to use the atonement in a more dedicated manner to be who I want to be. I also told him that I have been thinking about actively trying to be more grateful to him, which plan I was going to implement immediately. :) As my train pulled safely into Pentagon City, I wondered why Heavenly Father caused me to have that weird near-death feeling (I knew it wasn't my own doing). I even said a prayer to him; "Well, that was weird, but I trust that You will tell me why You allowed me to feel that soon enough!" A mere three days later (a Saturday :) I found out I was teaching a lesson the next day on the second coming. I knew as soon as I saw my topic that Heavenly Father really wanted me to KNOW the urgency with which He wants us to prepare ourselves, our families, and the nations, for His Son's return. I needed to have some experience in this area in order to best give that lesson to my Relief Society sisters. So there you go; an unexpected answer that was actually given before I'd knew I'd had a need. I really appreciate these types of small reminders that Heavenly Father actively watches over our days and minutes.

Favorite purchase of 2011: The Red Dress :) ----seenhere----->

Love-life triumph: a fun, brief love affair with the most confident, thoughtful question-asker I've ever met

2011 Low Point: a poorly-timed visit from an ex. :)

2011 High Point: visiting my very pregnant best friend Jessica in August and then getting to meet her little daughter only a few days ago. Whatever makes Jess happy makes me happy too, so we were pretty dang happy this year!!! I'm so grateful for the enduring and enlightening power of eternal friendships.

College BFF Jess, bebe Olivia, me, bebe Jence, HS BFF Breann

Things that happened in 2011 that I want to repeat in 2012
Finish a half marathon, 
get straight A's,
make/save a lot of money,
see a musical (Les Mis at the Kennedy Center),

Things that didn't happen in 2011 that I want to do in 2012:
eat at Virtue Feed and Grain in Alexandria,
get a Master's degree,
get a job with business cards and a 401k,
visit Florida and Harry Potter World,
fall in love with a boy that is NOT 2 years old




Monday, August 1, 2011

Weekend Thoughts on Romance (written backwards)

In the spirit of 500 Days of Summer, I'm going to relate my developing thoughts about romance to you, backwards, starting with my much-older-and-wiser thoughts of today.

----------------------------------------------------------
(Monday) Yesterday was a day of reckoning... not really, but it felt like it. We had a combined meeting about dating (quel suprise.) and for once this subtle monster of a topic pricked, not amused, me. I'm feeling the strange need to change the way I think about love and romance. Does anyone feel like they've successfully done this before? During the talk they advised us to throw away the "high school and college rules" about dating. Yikes. To me, that means setting aside dreams of falling in love like all my friends fell in love. They got married at age 21 and 22 and 23. I know I won't have a 21 year old's love story, I'll have at least a 26 year old's love story. I just don't think I know what that looks like, or how to prepare for it. I got the message yesterday in church that such preparation should include not getting excited about dates 1, 2, and 3 and to start dating your friends? Mmm ok. Overall the talk made me kinda sad, which means I'm probably immature. So sue me, I like my little romantic dreams of man sees girl, man chases girl, woman and man fall in love, have a few mishaps on the way but ultimately become beaming man and wife and endure to the end (very important last step).

(Sunday) The question burning in my soul as I go to sleep is, what romantic dreams do you retire over time, and which do you retain?

(Blurred for her privacy,
trust me, it's darling!)
(Saturday) It was probably on a Saturday just like this one, three or four years ago, that I was sitting on Jessica's bed, strolling through facebook, when I suddenly came across a new, darling picture of our friend Genna and her then-boyfriend-now-husband Andrew. She has ahold of his suspenders, looking flashy and sly in high heels, while Andrew displays his characteristic sarcastic smirk that clearly says "I'm whooped and I'm happy... but if you ask me I'll deny everything." I cheered out loud for their cuteness, and Jessica looked at me with the strangest smile and remarked, "You get crushes on couples. You love couples!!!!" And I guess I do.

(Friday) In the car on the way to the outlets, I discover that my friend Summer also gets crushes on couples. I'm glad I'm not alone. I shouldn't be alone. True love gives off more love, and it's good to bask in it. It's called empathy. It's enjoyable! It's hopeful! It's energizing! Etc. (Fast-forward to Monday: I think I need new, older couples, or a new, older boyfriend, to show me what to be excited for anymore?)

Adorable card I found on some blog somewhere...
Yep that's as rigorous as my attempts to establish copyright go. Oops.
(Saturday night) As a 26-year-old Mormon, I have seen good friends make great matches hundreds of times over! I still love their stories, I don't think I'll ever get tired of them. I know some of you might be rolling your eyes at me, thinking, "Linds, it's not all fun and games, this marriage. Get over it." Got it. Heard the spiel. Yes, marriage is hard, all of life is hard. But that's not what I'm blogging about today. I'm talking about that adorable energy, that synchronization that real love turns on between two people. I REVEL in that stuff! I REJOICE in it! I even get SQUEALY for it! It gives me hope. I have the audacity to hope for real love, even as the statistics of failure come crashing down over my head. 

(Saturday morning) The fabulous blog A Cup of Jo featured two adorable engagement videos sent to her by readers- of course I eat them up. I used to not be a fan of people taping their engagements (I liked the idea that such a moment is meant to exist in the couples' memory alone), but these two tapes have me singing a different tune. These videos get me started thinking about how I always get crushes on couples...

(Monday night) I return to my new question: how do I change my ideas about love for the better?

[Enter an earnest, outgoing, Mormon Joseph Gordon-Leavitt look-alike. Problem solved.] 

Sunday, May 2, 2010

On being teleological

Teleology–noun. Philosophy.
1. the doctrine that final causes exist.
2. the study of the evidences of design or purpose in nature.
3. the belief that purpose and design are a part of or are apparent in nature.
4. (in vitalist philosophy) the doctrine that phenomena are guided not only by mechanical forces but that they also move toward certain goals of self-realization.


I first came across the word "teleological" last semester in my aesthetics
philosophy class of DEATH, and it was one of the few words, besides Logos, that really warmed my soul whenever I read it, after I first figured out what it meant (as opposed to deconstructivism, which still just makes my soul feel like a tired, sad little raisin every time I see it).


In case the above dictionary.com definition doesn't do it for you, here's the Lindsey watered-down version: when you describe anything as teleological, you are recognizing that it has a purpose, and that it is en route to achieving its final destiny. You say something is teleological when you believe you see it mid-journey, whizzing towards some ultimate (hopeful) awesomeness. You go hiking in the woods and see the world's most amazing sunset and are moved to exclaim, "What a teleological phenomenon!" because you feel that this sunset is not only following its regularly scheduled scientific retirement into night, but it is also kindly fulfilling its God-given mini-purpose of letting you know that He loves you, specifically, in that moment (and also letting you know that He loves beauty and His whole earth, too).


The reason I was thinking about teleology today is because I fully embrace the idea that nature, people, time itself, and everything that surrounds me has a final purpose in the grand scheme of things. Up until this week, I myself was teleologically barrelling towards my finals and the successful close of my first year of grad school. All my thoughts, time, and most of my emotions were wrapped up in securing myself some good grades and in really doing the world a solid by giving it 29 pages worth of my bebe thoughts about Frederic Edwin Church's 1865 painting, Aurora Borealis, left.


And now, there is no endpoint. I feel a little empty. A little deconstructed even (NOOOOO!!!!). I came home Thursday after 1.5 hours of sleep in the past 48, having just handed in my last paper, and what did I do? I cracked open a textbook. I hadn't really gotten to peruse it this semester, and I was mocked considerably when caught.

Just call me Hermione. On finals week crack.

So, the big question is, am I teleological anymore, now that the gauntlet has been successful run? I sincerely hope so. I can't stand the thought of sitting still, or just meandering around aimlessly. I have an internship, yes, and I will learn a lot therein... but nothing quite gives you the same sense of heady direction as
a semester's curriculum to be learned (except maybe the act of dating someone... haha :).

As I pondered this favorite word of mine, snapshots of select modern artworks began to crop up in my mind's eye. This seems perfectly reasonable, in retrospect: no longer commissioned by kings or the privileged class, no longer able to act as the world's source for visual stimulus (that role has been usurped by youtube and modern advertisements), modern art, as opposed to the art of centuries past, simply screams out, in its very un-understandableness (un-understandability?) for you to help define its end point, its purpose. I AM A MONOCHROMATIC CANVAS WITH SLASHES IN IT! DEFINE ME!
(Google Image search Lucio Fontana for more of that sort...)

I can think of no better, more... calming adjective for this work, Condensation Cube, 1963-2008, than teleological:



It was one of my favorites to visit when I worked at the Hirshhorn. What you see is pretty much what I saw: a clear plastic cube that comes up to the middle of your thigh, it has about an inch and a half of supremely clear distilled water in the bottom and an ever-varied pattern of condensation droplets streaking the sides, which changes depending on the time of day and the season (although in my experience, these streaks were almost always grouped into the corner of the cube that was nearest the window. Methinks this photographer cheated to get this all-over condensation look). Despite its simplicity, it is a work that really stops people in their tracks, and I think that is because they sense immediately that it is making bare its own destiny, its own journey. Behold! I am a never-ending variation on the theme of water condensation!

As you look at it, you are caught up in the simple patterns, imagining what it would look like if the whole thing were covered in drops. Or you stare closely at it, trying to see if you can spot any drops rolling down the sides. Or you are wondering what would happen and what the cube would ultimately look like if you gave it a giant shove down the escalator... :) By making itself so plain, by revealing over and over again the trick that will continue to be its reason for creation and also its reason for continual adoration by visitors and curators, Condensation Cube, 1963-2008 is a really (dare I say it?) beautiful example of the simple idea of teleology, as it always is, in action.

Friday, April 23, 2010

Blackboard


6 days left. My 25 page paper looks like this ^ so far.

Yes, it's almost 7 pm on a Friday night, and I am blogging. Because that's the point of these things: to be myself, in writing, on the web. Well, the above picture is most certainly me at the moment. Forcing myself into the close quarters of the library all weekend so I could get some real headway on this final paper. As I explained to my missionary brother this week, I like to think of my assignments as my "sheep." ("I wanna be a shepherd." "A Shepherd?" "Ya. I wanna get some sheep and tend to them." "Get out of my office." What movie??) Ahem. Jesus told--no, invited-- us to pray over our flocks and our fields, well, these little things are what I cultivate, just one sliver of all I dream of adding to the world. So, I'm praying. And brainstorming like H***!

I got a queer sense of enjoyment out of this exercise- scratching out postulations with chalk on a board like some math geek (only my theories revolve around art and beauty). What do you know, the old school method has a few advantages! Mapping out my arguments across a planar surface, erasing and rearranging them where necessary, actually helped smooth out a lot of the mental road blocks I had on the path to that glorious "A." Knock on wood.

I should be getting back to work now.

Friends, I have some news for you: maybe one of the other reasons why I felt oddly delighted to be at that chalkboard this morning is that, in the middle of my scratching, I got a phone call from a staff member at the National Law Enforcement Museum, who was pleased to offer me the summer archival internship that I interviewed for earlier this week. I am THRILLED with this opportunity! The NLEM is essentially a "museum-without-walls" right now; it has a staff, and a collection, and a very important mission, but no permanent building. They're in the middle of a capital campaign to raise the money to build a permanent home, underneath a park in downtown DC (in a similar fashion to the Memorial to the Murdered Jews in Berlin by Peter Eisenman, which is amazing...). The NLEM will be right near the National Law Enforcement Officer's Memorial, a beautiful space directly across the street from the National Building Museum!

"Archives??" you are thinking. You don't know me that well. I actually have a fairly decent background in working with primary documents and collections from several jobs past, and it is only about to get better! I am juuuuust OCD enough to really be good at organizing thousands of documents at a time, although the stack of papers and books scattered around my apartment argue otherwise. I am so excited to tell you what I see and what I learn as I go along this summer. GO COPS!

I'm just a wee bit thankful this evening for the opportunities that I have at the moment... and I feel like I am almost ready to start building up a newer, bigger, and more fantastical set of dreams. (AFter fiNaLS). Because if there's one thing I've learned in the past few weeks/months/years... life is always going to surprise and delight you. If you ask it to.

Time to go.

PS A big, heartfelt cross-country hug to DaniandDave, MeganandJared, and Mike, Jess, Lilly, and new baby Peter! I love you guys SO SO MUCH!!!!! (And to Jess, who has been steadfastly offering up her brother's hand in marriage this past month so that I could come home to Utah this summer :) Sorry to disappoint... next year maybe. PS I love you!

Sunday, April 11, 2010

Heroes

NOT the tv show.

If you need something to listen to while you read the following, this song was playing in my head the whole time I wrote this bad boy.

We'll start here: who are the people in your life (or in history) whose words and actions really dictate in some way what your thoughts, words, and actions will be? They are probably people you think of as having their hearts set on the same kinds of treasures you do. A lot of my heroes are heroes because they perform the role of motherhood and womanhood so incredibly well; our treasures are conjoined at the family. Most of my other heroes are those who have an insatiable desire to make a difference in the world, who actually DID it. Or at least spent their lives trying valiantly. William Wilberforce comes to mind. My gosh I love Amazing Grace. Tangent.

As I related a few posts down, the big paper topic I'm working on this semester is Frederic Edwin Church, who was the cat's meow in American art from about 1850-1870. My (pseudo)professional opinion: he's a'ight, as far as art historical figures go... not my greatest hero though.

I got a very big research-ical shock last week while I was doing some reading about Church's 1859 voyage to Newfoundland; who should have accompanied him on the first leg of his journey to sketch icebergs and the arctic but (drumroll please...) Mr. Louis Agassiz himself!!!

... None of you found this revelation as exhilarating as I did. Louis Agassiz is one of my heroes, an important man in the history of science (aka'd "The Father of the Ice Age"), whose story has fallen a little bit by the wayside in this day and age, only to be picked up and examined now and again by scientific historians and pedagogues like myself. His is an incredible, and incredibly moving, story. I first learned about him from Vicki Jo Anderson's text The Other Eminent Men of Wilford Woodruff, and I will summarize her version of his story here. I'll bet as I tell it to you, you can see all the reasons why he makes a hero for me in particular:

Born in 1807 in Switzerland to a fifth-generation clergyman and a kind and stalwart mother, Louis Agassiz was never pushed beyond normal boundaries in education. His mother did hapen to notice and cultivate early on his intellectual tendencies and intense love of nature; most of his childhood was spent tenderly caring for a large range of animals housed within his estate, by permission of his parents. At age fourteen he was determined to memorize the Latin name of every single known animal and plant! He attended the University of Munich in pursuit of a medical degree, but his love of nature was already growing and taking a hold of his passion. He flourished under the tutelage of a philosophy professor named Schelling, who cemented in him the belief that the various animal forms could be understood as individual "thoughts" of a divine Creator.

Agassiz later describes himself as the "librarian of the works of God." <3 He wrote over 75 theses on topics in many different scientific disciplines, including anatomy, surgery, obstetrics, and pathology, and after moving to Paris, assisted one of Europe's most prodigious minds, Professor Georges Cuvier of the Center of Natural History at the Jardin des Plantes, in the work of establishing our basic classification system of animals (into four branches: the Radiatas, Mollusks, Articulata, and Vertebrata. FYI. :). When Cuvier died, Agassiz took up his work writing about fossilized fishes, and championed the idea held by his former master that nature was, again, the work of a Divine Intelligence. Notably, Agassiz never took the step in imagination that Charles Darwin would, linking fossils into a grand scheme of gradual evolution. Agassiz stated instead that "the whole history of geological succession shows us that the lowest in structure is by no means necessarily the earliest in time." Aka, according to Anderson, that, "Anatomically, evolution may have looked sound, but geologically it just couldn't work. The mere existence of the well-developed shark (Selachians) family is in direct contradiction to the idea of a gradual evolutionary development because the sharks are found abundantly in the earliest of the Palaeozoic fossil beds." Try again, Darwin. You're missing a link or two. Louis Agassiz instead puts forward the belief that "Facts are the words of God, and we may heap them together endlessly, but they will teach us little or nothing til we place them in their true relations, and recognize the thought that binds them together." This thought is the word of God, the world's greatest scientist, who made us, and the world, and all the animals, plants, and natural phenomena therein. Yes, these things may be in a state of continual conflict as Darwin illustrates, but this fact fully aligns with the Christian conception of the world as belonging to a fallen state. Tangent.

After Cuvier's death, the renowned naturalist Alexander von Humboldt took Agassiz under his wing, or rather, launched him into the sky, loaning him money to live on and securing him a professorship in Switzerland where he really began to perfect the craft of teaching. He established his city, Neuchatel, as a great European center of learning. Agassiz is known as one of history's most brilliant and passionate teachers (and this statement I have seen echoed in many other texts about education and even a devotional, not just Anderson's mini-biography). Agassiz preferred to take his students out of doors, sans textbooks, during the summer ("If you study nature in books, when you go out of doors you cannot find her"), and during the winter, he insisted on getting students each a specimen to examine. "Look at your fish"; that was his instructions at the beginning of one semester, and each week his students would bring him observations about their specific animal, and he would nod, smile, and simply say again, "Look at your fish." By the end, he had a classroom full of proud students who could rattle off intricate ideas about icthyology and fish anatomy and habits simply because they had to dig deeper and deeper for answers as they observed their single fish. Agassiz believed in obtaining knowledge for oneself, in cultivating a sharp eye and a quick, questioning mind. "The mind is made strong not through much learning," he said, "but by the thorough possession of something."

While in Switzerland, his attention turned from fossils to the mountains, particularly glaciers. Living, sleeping, and teaching on them, he was the first to discover that they were actually moving. Agassiz came up with this unheard-of idea that the continent was once covered in slowly moving ice (perhaps this idea came about after he almost lost his life in an underground river, which he fell into after he convinced his students to let him rappel 80 feet into an unstable glacial cavern). He presented his ice-sheet thesis to the leading scientists of the day at an annual meeting of the Helvetic Society, of which he happened to be the president. His remarks were received terribly; he was actually booed by the participants! His friend Humboldt encouraged him to have more research to back up such wild claims in order to avoid such a presentation disaster in the future. Agassiz took up the advice gladly, eventually proving the now concrete fact of science: that our Earth underwent an Ice Age that radically changed the face of its land formations.

In 1846 Agassiz went on a speaking tour of the United States, and the freedom--and uncultivation-- of education here impressed him so much that he relocated, despite invitations to teach by Emperor Napoleon III and the King of Prussia. His most notable American accomplishments include the establishment of the Museum of Comparative Anatomy at Harvard, the establishment of the Natural History Museum at the Smithsonian Institute, and his work in Washington to establish some governmental ground rules for effective, scholarly scientific work and publication. He chose to become a citizen in the midst of the Civil War, right about the time he was accompanying Frederic Edwin Church on a trip to the Arctic.

While teaching at Harvard, Agassiz and his wife, Elizabeth Cabot Cary, who was noted for her literary and executive talents, began a boarding house for female students. Agassiz arranged for professor friends from Harvard to teach the girls... and eventually Elizabeth and Louis reopened their school as the famous Radcliffe University. Louis was a great advocate for women's educational rights, even employing women in his museums. His student Clara Conant Gilson described her experience with this passionate man of science by saying, "His eyes ... would moisten with tears of emotion as thoughts of his Creator came rushing to mind, while he traced his [the creator's] footsteps in the science he studied. His eyes mirrored his soul. I think there was never but one pair of eyes such as Professor Louis Agassiz." Vicki Anderson notes that he was "easily moved to tears or laughter and made no attempt to hide his feelings." Quel sweetheart!

One of the biggest reasons why his impact is not well known today is because his works, so enriched by the belief in nature as a second Bible, or a thoughtful work of God, went against the grain of the wildly influential school of thought set in motion by Darwin's Origin of the Species, published in 1859. Agassiz spent the last fifteen years of his life defending his beliefs in "Nature's God," stating that "In our study of natural objects we are approaching the thoughts of the Creator, reading His conceptions, interpreting a system that is His and not ours." His stand on evolutionary issues still has a voice today, and I admire both the theological conviction behind his work and also his intense devotion to facilitating education-- good, solid, passionate education in his chosen discipline-- through research and personal, innovative, teaching methods.

(Most of the above can be found, better written, in Anderson's text, pgs 9-17).

K, hop off the soapbox now, Lindsey. Deep breath. Can you trace all the other reasons why he would be a hero of mine? I love this man. Someday I want to shake his hand in heaven and take an anatomy course from him. I am completely convinced that I will have the opportunity to do so, too. Vicki Anderson's The Other Eminent Men of Wildord Woodruff contains mini-biographies of the fifty other men besides the signers of the Declaration of Independence and the American Presidents who appeared in vision to Wilford Woodruff in the LDS St. George temple in 1877, requesting their temple work be completed. This event holds a lot of historical fascination for me, and I love reading these men's stories, thinking about the positive impact they had in many ways on my own life, and on the world I inherited.

I have many other heroes too, you know. I could go on all day. Many of them will read this blog, in fact. :) But Agassiz is one of my favorites, and I wanted to introduce you to him this Sunday, hoping that it may impel you to look around you, if you haven't already done so, and find those people whose passion, insight, and diligence directs your own. Heroes help us talk the talk and walk the walk because they have done so already. I'm grateful for the abundance of heroes I have in my own life.

Have a great week!

Monday, March 15, 2010

Good Morning, Museum

b
Whether you are a morning person or not, you just need to know: one of the most serene and invigorating experiences in the world (10x better than a caffeine shot) is the act of walking around in a museum before it opens (or, to a lesser extent, after it closes). Truly. Even though I've repeated this action again and again in different museums, I still feel a unique power in just those few seconds of museum "dawn." It soothes my rumpled morning soul like no other. :)


I don't know what it is. A quiet moment of satisfaction as you walk through the oversized doors and look up and around, with nary a soul (except the security guards) in sight. I guess you could say this experience relates to the virtue of savoring each moment, and/or the value of living in the present. You'd be right. In the mornings there are rarely any fantastic changes to greet me, except that the floors have been neatly swept, the stray chairs have been gathered in (thank you, dutiful night custodians!), and all the bright lights that normally crown the displays cases, artworks, and architectural settings with a golden halo are switched off (they lie in wait for the flick of the switchboard by the lead custodian, which was me at the BYU MoA, circa 2006-2007. I did always enjoy turning on the lights...)
In short, museums looks roughly the same in the morning. But as we all know, museums are a special place, and thus their mornings have special powers. They even have the ability to reinstill my commitment to my career at times (which is really useful right now... leisure hours are at an all-time low thanks to my busy schedule. My apologies to those who don't hear back from me as quickly as possible, and my sincere thanks to multiple family members who keep building me up and helping me along this crazy semester!). Many times I have savored my morning moment of stillness, and felt my inner Cinderella well up and say, "This is why I'm here. My gosh this is gorgeous." And all is well.

My museums are organizations kept up by (hopefully) the best intentions of many people's hearts and pocketbooks. They are beloved, highly visible, and sometimes sensational institutions visited by publics coming from far and wide with a really wide range of reasons for making the pilgrimage. Museums house surprising, creative, and intriguing collections of curios and valuables, and they rotate these objects under the public's gaze through the means of various well-selected (aka "curated") exhibitions. I've loved these big, beautiful spaces since I was little, when my dad would take me to the exclusive grand openings of libraries, museums, mansions, casinos, and the like (Viva Las Vegas!) and I would "feel the power." (Totally unrelated note: I heart Emperor's New Groove).

However, the moment is really quickly forgotten, even by me (And I mean quickly- give or take two minutes). After I reach the museum and bask in its morning glow, there are classrooms to set up, tour details to recall, training sessions to attend, colleagues to chat with, blah blah blah... and of course, the inevitable onslaught of the day's visitors: bring on the crying babies! And the shrieking and sprinting children, and the harried-looking adults, and the uncertain yet excited tweens moving around in little herds, snapping future facebook profile photos in front of the most picturesque pieces of the museums. These are glorious places during the day, too, in their own way.

Today I escaped my afternoon lesson with the memory of my morning reverie still in tact for once, and thus I decided to record it for posterity here.


This link takes you to a nifty little 360 degree tour of my current haven, the National Building Museum. In this "tour" all the lights are on, so you can't get quite the same morning view, but you can still definitely get a sense of the emptiness, the clear light, and the beauty of the space... and hopefully a sense of why I go on such random fancy tangents about it, too. If you were to come visit me out here, ps, I would shower you with all of the interesting historical information printed below the tour window. And I would deliver it in my best, most entertaining and mysterious teacher/tour guide/docent voice. We would have a great time. :)

And with that, I bid you good afternoon. Wherever you are.

Friday, February 26, 2010

Probably belongs in a journal but Hey! Why not?


Do you ever meet people that just make you feel smart? Not because they are praising your intelligence, but sadly, because they have a view of the world that seems... uninformed, or just dumb to you?

On the flipside, do you ever meet people that make you feel like a country bumpkin, or a child, or a plain old idiot? Not because they're slipping facts about their ivy-league education into your conversations (although I've come across a few of those in my day...) but because their ideas seems grander and their capacity to DO seems like 1000x bigger than yours?

I've met people that made me feel like both sides recently, but I don't really like separating them in such an unfair dichotomy! These are my own weird stereotypes, and that's all they are, I know it. In the base regions of my heart, I fully believe that all people are created by a God who absolutely loves them for who they are, for every unique strength they have, and even for the weaknesses they have, because He made them that way (like Punchinello the Wemmick in that one book that's awesome that I can't remember the title of...). I need to recall that people have the potential to work through their weaknesses and work towards Him, and for that and myriad other reasons, He loves his kids. My gosh, lately I just really want to see people like He does.

Right now my only weapon is to pray for charity (I can't go wrong with that, huh? :). "Look not on his countenance, or on the height of his stature... for the Lord seeth not as man seeth. For a man looketh on the outward appearance, but the Lord looketh on the heart." That's how I'd like to be. But how DO you get to see people's hearts when you're meeting them at parties and they just fill you in with brief stats like where they grew up and what they do and where they went to college... and that's all?

Here's one more Lindsey stereotype coming down the line: East Coast people don't like to let their freak flags fly. I think that's what's bothering me right now. I like to be a little bit different than everyone else, and I usually don't care who sees it. In the west I surrounded myself with friends who do likewise, and we pretty much lived out one of the colorful, fun Owl City songs I've got stuck in my head this week. I think I just need to get a grasp on how other people like to be out here. I also need to quit whining :)

Because none of this really, truly matters. Today's post is a wee bit o' gibberish that just needed to come out. I'm growing up, ironing out what is best in my character, and what is not. Welcome to my bumpy road. Someday soon, mark my words, I'm going to make a break-through in connecting to this hard-as-rock East Coast lineup of acquaintances. I'll see people better, light them up, and hopefully look on their hearts! Maybe they'll see mine, too, and like what they see.

Fact/Resolution: It does not matter what you wear (annoyingly trendy or disturbingly outdated), nor does it matter if your parents are rich, if there's a MBA behind your name, if your bag is genuine Fendi, or if you speak only in sign language. I should not, will not care if you never rise to prominence, gain notoriety, amass spectacular levels of wealth, or if you have limited language capacity, education or wit. You have the capacity to love. And thus, you are amazing. That's really what counts. Hopefully you use that capacity. I'm certainly going to try better to do so. Dear hipsters, bums, clueless tourists, and overbearing business-y folk who are too grown-up for their own good, I'm sorry for the rolled eyes I have shot your way recently. I'll try to smile next time. You probably deserve it, what do I know? Until then, I remain,


Some contemplative girl in your midst

Sunday, January 17, 2010

Memory: It's A Mystery

Morris Louis, Doubt, 1959, Acrylic resin on canvas, 105 x 83 in., Courtesy Riva Yares Gallery Santa Fe, NM, Scottsdale, AZ.

The above painting is actually really big. When I used to look at it, hanging above me on the gallery wall, I always inexplicably imagined how fun it would be to cut it out of its frame and turn it into a queen-sized comforter cover. "Mmm... How glorious," I thought to myself, "to sleep under a marvelous (and heisted!) masterwork of one of America's most important modern painters."

Doubt came to the Brigham Young University Museum of Art in Fall 2008 on loan from a private gallery for the show Turning Point: The Demise of Modernism and the Rebirth of Meaning in American Art (now that's an attractive title if I ever saw one... pbbbt). I had worked on this show as a curatorial intern for six months previous to that day, from January to June 2008. I had carted home massively heavy tomes about Morris Louis, wikipedia'd him and other artists til my mind was saturated with images like Louis' stately moneymaker from the Met (on the left) and Yayoi Kusama's psychedelic installation piece (on the right). I had bravely called snooty gallery after snooty gallery in an attempt to locate a Morris Louis big enough and attractive enough to get a place in our thoughtful and elegant show. Doubt was eventually secured not by me but by our fabulous contemporary curator from a wonderful gallery, and it ended up being one of my particularly favorite pieces. Working as a docent for Turning Point for the next several months, I attempted to explain to patrons of all ages and interest levels how Morris Louis removed the practice of painting even further from its traditional definition into the realm of modernism. He did not even touch the paint itself anymore! He held up the canvases and let the paints slide down them, shifting or bending them as his artistic sensibilities demanded in order to create aesthetically pleasing patterns . The results are lovely, and yes, cranky patron, your seven-year old could have done it. But he didn't, Morris did, and now we move into the conceptual art gallery. Now as I was telling you before....

...At this point, a year into making this blog, I have something to confess: I am not giving you a thorough investigation of modern art. Or even art history in general. You are instead getting a smattering of my own memories of art: the images and stories that glow in my mind and heart weeks, months, or even years later, for myriad random reasons. These are the images that compell me forward into laborious reading lists and occasionally mind-boggling seminar discussions. (It's one week into my second semester of grad school and I am already tired, can you tell? And is that a very bad sign? ... And IS anyone reading this besides my mom and Auntie J?) At some points, I still feel like a child of two worlds: I am equally at home in a cabin with my family, playing facecards and talking religion, as I am in the large and spectacular museum world, embodied so beautifully for me right now in the impassive, cylindrical Hirshhorn, the awe-inspiring National Building Museum, and 20+ other lovely historical institutions here in Washington, DC. I don't know what that means and sometimes I don't think my two comfort zones can coexist within myself forever. What I'm getting at is that I don't know what the future holds, but I do know that every time I explain to a new acquaintance that I eventually want to work either in art museums or teach at the university level, Morris Louis' Doubt floats up to center stage in my brain. Somehow, someway, someday, I will be content showing people simple but beautiful pictures like that and causing some kind of pleasant or stimulating thoughts to occur on their end. That's what I would like. Everything else about the path ahead of me is currently a mystery. And time ticks on...


The massive doors to the National Archives- yet another landmark site that I have yet to visit in this city. Sooo many of those... I'm such a bum. :) That reminds me. In March last year I posted my list of things I must do before I left DC; I just checked, and I'm currently 9 for 19. I'll let you speculate which have been done and which haven't. To that list I'm adding Move to a house, Visit the Corcoran Gallery, See the Nats win a game at home, Get a great summer internship, Go canoeing or sailing, Find a good Pho/Vietnamese restaurant and most importantly of all... KAMFLTTM.

Wednesday, December 23, 2009

New and Good Things

I have half of a post about Manet's The Railway written... but I am seriously struggling to not use high-faluting art theory when I write about it. So it's on hold for yet another week... my mind just can't pare it down yet. (Trust me, it's better this way. It's currently a really boring, watered-down version of my 26-page final Historiography paper. And NOBODY, myself included, should ever have to revisit that ugly monster). 



Instead, I want to talk about the experience of being home. I've thought about what it means to be home at least 10x a day, starting probably three weeks ago. At first, while in the throes of the miserablest round of finals ever, being home was just the chance to escape, to let my mind stop churning. Visions of watching tv, sleeping, and not having to use any more confounded multisyllabic words danced in my head.

Then, I realized that being home represented a major change, or at least a significant mile-marker, in my DC life. With the close of the semester, I said good-bye to a few good friends who will not be returning East with me next year. I also realized, kind of for the first time, that many of my bestest friends in the West have joined the march of the marrieds this past year, and thus can't come out and play with me like old times. But it's ok. We are meant to grow and learn and adventure in this life, and I am so proud of my friends for the bold steps forward they take.

Being home at this time, the end of 2009, means the close of an incredible and unique year. EASILY the fastest 365 days of my life. I have skipped through an internship at the Smithsonian, a round of unemployment, a summer as an underpaid lifeguard, and a fall as a first-year art history grad student. A lot of the time, I hardly noticed how quick and brilliant these days were. In 2009, I have changed, and changed directions, wildly... and I hope for the best. Being home for Christmas means a brief moment to stop and contemplate these amazing opportunities. It also means a chance to express my gratitude for the "back-east" friends I have out there, who make the cold and the distance and the obnoxious DC materialism/professionalism so worth it (special shout-out to Marissa, Jenni, Maggie, and Dani, my East Coast blog buddies :)

Finally, being home allows me to re-learn the wonderful, slightly cheesy but very true lesson: that friends who love each other are never far apart at heart. It doesn't matter that I only got to see my parents four times this year; when I came home, it's as if I never left! Magic! I've changed, it's true, but they love my changes, or at least they'll want to gab about the changes. :) DC '09 taught me that your heart will ALWAYS expand to fit whenever you find something new to care about. Miraculously, none of the older things in there have to be kicked out. What a glorious gift that is, to be able to grow in love, and never be bounded. There are always new people to serve, to laugh with, to explore, and to love. That must be why Heavenly Father's work and glory is to bring about the eternal life of his children. He's really figured it out: the best thing in life is to love as many little humans as possible, and thus keep one's heart growing.

I read over my 2008 journal this morning. Apparently, on Thursday, November 6th, I felt I had the greatest day of my life. Here is a selection of that entry, so you can see why:

"I worked more, kept busy, shared my friendship bread, went and gabbed with Dani at her desk at the Wilk, and walked home in the beautifully brisk air. And on that walk home... Milena, the Director of Public Programs at the Hirshhorn Museum in DC called me to set up an appointment for a phone interview... then we just decided to interview right then. She told me all about the kinds of things I'd be doing, and as we talked, I felt this unbelievable sense that I could not have ASKED for a better internship, one more suited to my current educational, professional, or social needs :) Heavenly Father LOVES me! I started screaming and jumping afterwards, and called the wonderful parents who support me. Mom cried she felt it was so right, so perfect.

"I have officially changed my life plan today- gonna go down a road in January I never dreamed of. It feels incredible, and very right. Ah faith. Bless it. Oh, and I listened to the great art critic Michael Fried give a lecture on High Modernism and Minimalism at the MoA tonight. I felt completely at home there. I belong in that big, beautiful world. I'm SO Happy. PS Milena was SO pleasant to talk to. I'm really looking forward to working with her. PPS Jessica is sad for me to go... and that's why I choose her as my best friend."

I've learned, taught, explored, loved, been accepted to and attended one brutal semester of grad school since January. Frankly, it has worn me out to skin and bones, and I am happily at home in order to recoup and fatten up. Next year's resolution, among several, is to find better balance between all of these things. While in DC a friend really alerted me to the value of balance; I have the nerdy tendency of focusing too closely on my art world (well... once in a while :). I've got a lot to see of life yet, and many people to love and serve.  I am extremely grateful to know that I have a Savior whom I might lean upon as I try to gain strength and accomplish great things. I am so happy to be home for Christmas, so that I might celebrate His birth with those I love. And I am ridiculously excited for the new and good things to come. Merry Christmas all.


Me at the Vegas Bowl last night- BYU vs. Oregon State. I LOVE that the Momo crowd causes the beer signs to be turned off and the hot chocolate ones to be haphazardly created.


Me and Spence after rushing the field. SOOOOOOOOOOOOOO COLD! But notice the score in the upper right hand side- Cougs 44, Beavers 20! Just baaaaaarely worth it. :)

PS Please excuse the gushyness of this post. "I just have a lot of feelings." What movie?? Haha