the whys and the wherefores

And so back to hospital.....

2007-02-09T10:04:00.000+13:00

One day, when I let other people take the photographs, I may have a more successfully flattering image....ah well, here I am at the northern most point of the North Island, Cape Reinga.

I decided to take a road trip again for a week, initially to go to Paihai to meet up with Dom and Sarita and kids for a couple of days and then on to the Cape and then slowly down to New Plymouth to meet up with Mike, for the Pretenders concert. A busy schedule, well, not that busy.

So I set off full of hope and delight, the weather has turned at last and summer is here. First stop Rotorua, and back to that crazy hostel Cactus Jack's to see whether there were any likely fellow travellers who wanted to go up to the cape. There weren't, but I did meet a young keen and married couple from the UK, Hereford to be precised, and they were having a good travel round. Along with them was a gentle American called Ben from Minnesota. He thought he was rather witty, they were all quite young and rather boring company. The kind of company that still quotes from Monty Python....will it never end? So an early night was had, not quite the wild times that I had there previously, but that was OK. I found myself in quite a different headset, even quite blase about everything to do with the beauty of New Zealand! My how the complacency sets in only just after a year. Still, till this day, I had never been north of Auckland and certainly hadn't experienced the beauty that is the Bay of Islands. The journey was swift and uneventful on the way up to Paihai, and as it goes I arrive 24 hours early. It was a nice motel, and like many seaside resorts, small chalets based around a pool. Young couple running it who were very popular with everyone. So early morning swims and all day swims and evening swims etc.....the following day, rather unsuccessful journey to swim with dolphins. Dolphins we saw on a four hour cruise round the bay, and then a quick swim off a beautiful beach. An emptier sea I have never seen, as we gazed down with goggles, but I have always wanted to swim off a boat, so that was fun. In fact it was all fun, riding the waves with an excited aunty, must have pleased the girls!!!! :) As I was hanging out at the backside of the boat saying farewell to our compadres the dolphins, it was pointed out that there we were looking at a couple of fornicating dolphins. I have since learnt that dolphins are the only other animal to have sex for fun. They certainly looked as if they were having a blast!

We all left a couple of days later, and after having to call out the AA because my trust vehicle, Winnie was complaining, I left for Cape Reinga, another 300 or so kms to the north.

So do I look enough like a tourist? Well, Cape Reinga is a pretty special place where Maori beliefs let the spirits go on to the next world from this vantage point. I had a moment to reflect on some of the ghosts that I thought I might be able to bid farewell to at such a delightful spot. But being surrounded by various other tourists and the urgency of photo taking rather broke the mood for me, so I thought that I could probably find a better place for private contemplation. And so I did, about 4okms down the road, I followed a sign saying 'Spirits Bay', well that sounded promising. By the by, I had said to the AA that I would not go off-road, so it was with a deep breath that I plunged onto the gravel road for the next 15kms. (You might want to refer to earlier blogs to see what happened the last time I was on a gravel road - it wasn't pretty) When I arrived at the Bay, I knew this was where I was going to spend the night, it was just too good to be true, so I had a quick dip in the plunging surf and went back to the main road for some supplies, then back to the camping ground, such as it was . There were the amenities and the sound of whinnying horses and lowing of cattle, while the sun went down and the moon gradually rose. The mozzies were out in force! I had a special hurrican lamp that burnt citronella oil to ward off all bugs and flying things but it didn't really work, and they made a meal of me. Interestingly, I learnt off CSI New York, that it is only female mosquitos who bite....well, I always knew I attracted the ladies!!!! I must check that piece of crucial info. I seem to be learning alot of info and useful info at that , about various species. So let me show you this space.

Beautiful isn't it........That night the mozzies were so bad that I had to sleep with baby wipes in my ears to stop them being invaded. I don't think I was successful, these girls liked to nibble ears! I wasn't even bothered by the rowdy crowd who were partying well into the morning.

I set off fairly early, not sure how Winnie and I were going to travel the next part of the route. After all it was only 55 kms off-roading, and no harm seemed to be done. As were were traversing down the road, I thought that we ought to have at least a glimpse of 90mile beach. So we took a sharp right, and whoops, we were off-road again! What a beach! amazing. just straight surf and sand for 90 miles. An excuse for lots of crazy driving by 4x4 drivers which was the only crappy thing, but there is a coach that apparently drives through the waves with a load of tourists whooping in the back seats.....uhm.....I gingerly dipped my toes in the water and took a scoopful to wash my face.

So, off on the road again.

I dropped off at as many beaches that I could find, here's just one of them, where I had a little swim.

So this is a lovely little hippy township called OPo,,,,,something, and it's almost at Opo.....something else. Anyway, Opo is the 'friendly dolphin' - not too friendly I hope!!!! But these beautiful sand dunes are beyond compare and the gorgeousness of this little place made me almost want to just stop there, and stay there for quite a long time. It's rather like the place that I stopped at earlier in the journey. It was Mangatamaga( or somethinglike that) a small fishing bay, that appealed to hippies and rich tourists. I found the only hair cutter in town, and got a free haircut, because I wanted to so little and she was so nice....what a delightful find these places are....I do wonder what it would be like to live in one of them. Don't get me wrong there is quite a big Maori presence in these places as well, but one realises that there is really nothing foranybody to do here, so there is the feeling that those who live here, are not necessarily in the mix for job hunting etc....but then, sometimes it is all about the fishing. Certainly in this place with the sand dunes, there was more Maori presence and everybody looked as if they really lived there.

And so the journey went on and as we got into Auckland, which I wanted to do before the end of the day, things began to go a bit sketchy. I lost my way, and spent about three hours travelling around the outskirts of Auckland before gradually arriving at a place where I was only 100kms or so away from Hamilton. Time was ticking and I decided to get there before sleep. I arrived in Hamilton at 11-00pm (ish) and settled down for the night in the back of the car again, this time far from Spirits Bay, but in London Street, opposite the first Waikato gardens in Hamilton. A fine place and a long night sleep. Eight hours later, I was ready for the day. I hooked up with Mike and we had a lovely breakfast, and then on our way to New Plymouth. The journey was hot and relaxed so that when we arrived in town we were looking forward to a reasonably priced motel with a pool. We found it.

A couple of pictures of Mike modelling the pool - it was a very nice place, complete with other guest who had a Peugeot 405 and was delighted with his model.

So I don't think I left anything out, but I'm sure I did, and it'll come back to me. Gotta go now, because I have a terrible ear infection caught somehow somewhere on this trip and I"m in severe danger of it affecting my eyes as well. So off to see the ENT people at the hospital, hopefully they'll be able to do something. In the mean time, I'm slowly moving into my office, which is going to be mine not much longer as I think that I'm just squatting the HoD's until they get a new one. Ah well......looking forward to getting on with some work. Still yet to pin down, who's going to be my superdupervisor.

Xmas is coming and I'm losing weight.

2006-12-22T13:42:00.000+13:00

Well - I'm in - well and truly. I start at the Uni on Jan 10 2007, and I still haven't got my visa sorted out. It seems that what's holding the whole thing up is my ol' dickie heart from birth. So what did I do? I joined a gym and have been going every day for the last three months, so that by the time I had to have a check up with the cardiologist, my blood pressure, heart rate etc...all had been treated well, after 20 years of abuse. The lengths one goes to ..... anyway, fingers crossed they'll sort it out and all will be well. At the moment I'm on three month visas and am not allowed to leave the Pacific Islands, so won't be making any more random trips to Georgia or the US or the UK for the moment.
So while all this time has been passing what else have I been doing? You may well ask. Well, as mentioned before, I've been writing for artbash, raising awareness for some of the art coming out of Wellington, and have built up some firm friends which is nice - mostly queer. Wellington is soooo much more accessible than San Fran - maybe I just have more time. Different thing, but it still needs to be said that I'm glad not to be around so self congratulatory types. For all the false starts, I have been accepted to deliver a paper at a conference in Oz in April (visa reliant) at www.somatechnics.org/ so I have a busy time ahead of me, as of course, I haven't written the paper yet......it seemed to impress the Uni which was good, so they're on board fully. So that's the work stuff sorted out, I have a lot to do, and not such a long time to do it, but boldly step forth and cross my fingers - that's my motto. Time for some piccies I think.
Back at the beginning of October, I went skiing with my brother and his family - my nieces were particularly taken with my get up - I think I can obviously put myself in the position of role model. Would you believe that there was someone else on the ski fields in exactly the same
outfit which was very alarming and rather confusing for everyone - but really rather funny. - yup, that's me again. After 32 years of not skiing, it came back to me - just like falling off a bike!
Anyway, that was all just before I started going to the gym after I realised that I couldn't snow board - even though a lady in her mid fifties was having no probs.....there's alot of moments like that. But let it never be said that I still don't put the hours in at the local watering holes. Don't be fooled by the glass of water...by that time it was deemed I needed a break. I don't know- what d'ya think?
But life is sweet, and much work to be done. Not going to be such a hot Xmas as last year, but I've still been for a dip or two in the local open air pool. The water averages about 14 degrees cold, but that's nothing to someone who threw themselves into the bay on a regular basis. Maybe I"m going to be soo hale and hearty that I'l lose all my capacity for critique and suspicion. It's completely true what they say about jocks....anyway - gotta sign off, as am off to Wilton Bush to walk with the girls who are on holiday at the moment. Family calls. Bye for now

Still not there yet

2006-11-01T14:42:00.000+13:00

Mid November and still the bureaucracy goes on, but all the time I think we must be getting closer. In the mean time, I'm out and about talking to people, visiting galleries and writing for fun and frolics on www.artbash.co.nz under the name of mcc. I'm learning quite alot about New Zealand artists that I knew nothing of, and working up to trying to find work doing this writing work professionally to earn a crust. Gotta rush now, but I'll talk about my exercise regime next - that's more fun - it's all about having fun don't you know!

The month isn't over, but things are looking up....

2006-08-24T09:19:00.000+12:00

Well, thankfully, the lump proved to be indeed a cyst, and therefore no cause for great alarm and next time to be treated with anti-biotics - I'm writing with my new writing tool . My finger has been encased in a sort of sled implement and has since been called a 'mallet finger'. This is apparently what it is denigraded to once the tendon over the knuckle has snapped and thus rendered it into a kind of a mallett..... So anyway, I've had my breasts scanned and ultrasounded, my hand and finger x-rayed - who could ask for more. To cheer myself up, I went to enjoy the good weather and off to the beach! Here are some lovely moments.

So I shall go and do something a bit more sensible today, as it is rather laboursom4 to k44p writing, I havren't got quit4 used to th size of my fing4r!

What a bl***y month!!!!!

2006-08-20T12:47:00.000+12:00

August - freezing and wet, and that's just the beginning. All around houses are teetering on the edges of the hillsides and waiting for the ground to give way, as never before. It's amazing, I think that I'm alright where I am, but the house over the road is having difficulty getting sold but it is on rather perilous looking stilts..... The upshot is the ground is giving way, and it's being felt .
And here are some more of the highlights of my month:
4 Aug: Broke one of my molars right off by eating a chip, a week later had treatment that set me back about $800NZ
7 Aug: Was making my bed and somehow, lurched forward and broke my finger - haven't got it sorted out yet, as I had just gone to the doc's for something else at $55 NZ per visit, you can't be too casual about it. So my finger looks like this right now.. It is my middle finger on the left hand.
It wouldn't be so bad, but what you have to understand is that I can't actually straighten it in any way, but at least the immense shooting pain has gone and it does function in some way - I can type.
8th Aug: The exhaust pipe fell off Winnie so in she went to see the motor Doctor, haven't got the bill yet, but estimate $150NZ
11th Aug: After recommendation from the doc, went to Pacific Radiology to have breast screening after painful lump appeared just before last visit to San Fran. What a horrible experience, so much for those cheery images of venerable ladies happily placing their mammaries on plates that potentially just look like they might be chilly, but what you don't see, and nobody every tells you is that then a top shelf of varying sizes, comes down and squishes you tit into a pancake. Luckily I had left it till the painful lump was reduced to just a lump, but after that and during, it was agony!!!! Apparently due to the peculiar density of my breasts (i.e. chubbiness I guess) it hurt even more as they had to be pressed harder. Why not a cylinder? Must remember that for my thesis. So that took about an hour of pushing and shoving, while mamographer and radiologist decided what they wanted, by the end of it I thought I was going to faint with pain. But then was sent in for ultrasounds. No results yet, but I am having more fantasies about just getting rid.
So that little joy amounted to $250NZ. Maybe just the beginning - I might have to wave bye bye to my PHd......
Anyway, not trying to be too depressing about all of that. i keep thinking about the creativity and courage of Jo Spence.
All the time, I'm bunged up with influenza and find myself weeping all the time, either through being bunged up or in pain, or in shock. Deep joy!
Still, only have way through the month, and my stars aren't too well aligned this month, so let's wait to see what happens.
Well, I just thought I would share that all with you.
Can't think of anything jolly to say right now - am waiting on a job interview that I had recently had, in which I don't think I particularly shined, but it would be a nice job to get as writer and publicist for art gallery here. Seem to be very nice and progressive people working there and spookily have some connections with my past existence in San Fran. I have to recognise that however that I've never got a job through an interview process, all very strange. An example of where I fell short, is that I didn't mention that I have a blog site and therefore some experience of editing on line....silly me. I long to feel motivated again, but it's just not coming.
And that dear readers, is my August , so far......

Next step

2006-07-16T10:28:00.000+12:00

Hi again - it's been a while but things have moved on a pace. What can I say? Phew. The university has accepted my proposal - so here's what has to happen next on this complicated road to becoming a Dr. and having those illustrious letters PhD after my name and thus make me more employable in the world of academia.
The thing of course about being a foreigner in a new land, is that it is very difficult to make forays in the work place, especially, as I'm starting from scratch, and am funding this all privately. But here's where we are.
Firstly - Enrolling in the mechanisms of being an international student.
The thing that I was completely unprepared for is this little and very important thing called 'Detailed Academic Transcripts'. When I was asked for this - I nearly jacked it all in on the spot. Having just got back from SF, I had this awful sense of horror that I'd have to wait another eight months (how long it took to get my certificate for my Masters over here) and how was I going to go back 5 years to get my transcripts for my Bachelors Degree? But surprisingly, this was not difficult. Of course the US wanted more money to part with this information, but the UK was /is quite happy to send it off. It's not something that is given if not asked for, but once asked for, it is seen, and quite rightly so in my estimation, as your right as a student wishing to progress and continue with education. Needless to say, I went in on the defensive, and suggested that it was their duty in the US, not to encourage foreign students, unless they could realise that not every foreign student wants to stay in the US, and that they have an obligation to the customer! But anyway, there's really no problem on that score, so that's a relief, and then there is the other complication - have I got evidence of residency in this country? Well, here's the difficulty, in order to get a Student Visa/Permit, I need to have registered and paid up at the university, but in order to enroll at the university, I have to have proof of residency- now there's a conundrum. One would think that this might have been thought through further, but it came down to having a letter from the university, saying that they will not be able to accept my registration without residency proof, which I then take to immigration.....I've yet to work out what that all amounts to, but I'll let you know. It strikes me as a rather complicated bureaucracy, that doesn't seem to amount to much. Maybe thiswould make more sense to someone who is applying from out of the country, or is being sponsored or looking once again, to have permanent residency in the country on the strength of their education here. The upshot seems to be that someone like me who is travelling through privately funded education, is a suspect character. Is it a sign of the suspicious times we live in , or is something that really makes sense to people? Do I need to represent my country and stay local or nationalized. Ironically, of course, my desire is to involve citizens of the world into a project of great intimacy and to take it global, to see what are the real similarities, differences. All the reading I seem to get my hands on, is becoming very familiar with different slants, but my experience of people is that there is something very other going on. I'm viewed with suspicion, as I view others ; I'm viewed with interest, as I view others. It's not that easy to assimilate, and that's what is so fascinating. I don't want to view from a distance, but I can only respond to that which I am confronted with.
Secondly - Working and finding people to work with.
I have only one word to say to anybody about this - Volunteer! Only in the last two/three weeks, has this become the pivotal moment of changing my life here. After a year in my books, I can now say that I know about three times as many people and have found spaces to work with and people who want to engage. Admittedly, much of the work is organised by people who have similar backgrounds to me, but I'm confident that things are going to change subtly and magnificently. And so, I'm beginning to make my own work again, as well as continuing the writing and doing all this bureaucratic shannanigans. Since I'm somewhat convinced that nobody is reading this website at the moment, I thought I'd just add in a few images of some of the work I"m making at the moment. Just as a record for myself and see what it looks like in the form of documentation and cataloging. At the moment I'm focusing the complex problems of genital mutilation, and I feel like I need to become more familiar with legislations and statistics of all these different countries. I"m not sure if I have the tenacity for this , but I'd better give it a go. I think the first step for this is to start showing my work publicly and then to get the discussion going and hopefully, as they say, the cream will rise to the top.

So, I will fill you in on the following journey of this Phd quest, but in the mean time, have some pictures to enjoy.Hot and sexy peppers. Shounldn't be allowed! I'm just listening to a very interesting conversation about Xeno-oestrogens......just in case I forget.

Backing and advancing

2006-05-24T15:55:00.000+12:00

'snapping to the clatter of the spin - out and in'
So eventually, it's done. I've handed in my proposal for my PhD disssertation/project and it took me nigh on a year. According to some, this is quite a short time, but I'd like to say, it was the phrasing of it,and the organizing of the strategy that took the time. I expect once it starts that things will change, and the reality is that I hope to start on the project before they decide whether they will give me the go ahead, but I'm not absolutely sure how it all starts. I'm aware of the fact that it is quite unusual to be applying to do a practical project for which I have no documentation that validates the fact that I can do it- but to be more specific, as well as writing a dissertation, I have proposed to do a rather complicated curating project. Well, as my buddy Anu says, things have been curated in many ways, and things that are not considered necessarily to be art.....well, we'll see.
My next ambition is to get much more familiar with the art world here in NZ, and get some support from there. I don't think I can do it just from my headspace.

Just to clear the decks I had to go back to the birthplace of my MA, and just close that book for the moment, and double check a few important things. Who'd travel so long and hard while trying to get going with an academic career. I did get my hands on the book that will make the difference, called "Art Practice as Research" by Graeme Sullivan- greatly recommend to anyone in the field.

What Graeme Sullivan has to say about curating the body:

In recent times, however, the fusion is more comprehensive, such that "the body" is often seen in both literal and metaphoric terms as an entity that is unable to be divided and separated into its parts without distorting basic patterns of operations.....This picks up on the idea that we exist within other connected structures. Furthermore theorizing the body in this way helps render notions such as essentialism and determinism as overly simplistic ideas that are inadequate in helping get a sense of the complex and connected world.

So the word of the day is "phenotype".

Sometimes it's just not enough to read, it just has to be red!

2006-03-16T21:18:00.000+13:00

What it offered?
That which is coloured

We move to orangered

Nothing ever rhymes with orange

No piccies, but just some ruminations

2006-03-15T17:29:00.000+13:00

Urban Myths, Gossip and the Poor Cow
What is an Urban Myth? Loosely described, it could be seen as a form of gossip, a tale told very much in the form of a vocal exchange that in its telling proves to be fluid and open to interpretation and more importantly to re-interpretation as there is often little research into the myth itself. Gradually, as this myth extends within the milieu of the urban terrain it takes on it's meanings, its importance resting on whoever remembers the salient bits of the story and how far it travels. Often the urban myth does not actually travel very well. It tends to be a story that stays close to home and is only understood because 'it could or has happened to you or your next door neighbour'.
I heard a couple of stories recently, urban myths from the Caucasus region. Each one had a leitmotif; a constant thread; a common subject. In these cases, it was the fate of the poor cow.
The first one tells the tale of a family of self sufficient dairy farmers. Under the occupation of the Soviets, the family was turfed off its land so that it could be given over to the production of wheat growth. They were not a big enough dairy concern and their production was not large enough to warrant their space, so they were placed in a small apartment in the capital city. Used to the fact of being self-sufficient, this family took their most useful asset with them, a small calf. This calf was to live in their fifth floor apartment for a number of years. As a calf the animal had been relatively easy to manoeuvre, but of course calves grow. When the family were returned their land, they had no way of moving their dairy producer and thus the poor cow was left alone in the flat. The story goes, that it was not long before the cow became distraught and desperate and in its desperation, it managed to throw itself out of the fifth floor window. Neighbours watched aghast as this bovine creature balked, fell from the air and landed on the Lada underneath. There was only one fatality recalled in the story, the poor cow.
The second story, came from the same group of people who were gathered around listening to the first story, and began “Well, I heard another cow story....”
This one was not so detailed, but nevertheless spoke volumes. Allegedly, it took place only last year on a lake just outside the city. An aircraft carrier was taking a consignment of cows from one place to another. No one listening to the story is really sure from where to where, nobody is bothered to fill in the details.
During the journey one of the heifers had broken loose from its tethers and was running amok inside the confines of the aeroplane. As the aircraft was over a lake, it was decided among the crew that the best form of action was to eject this rampant animal, and so swiftly it was steered towards the back doors and given no parachute.
On the lake, a solitary man was fishing in his row boat. Hearing the noisy aircraft overhead he looked up to see this poor cow plummeting towards the ground, or rather, the lake, straight towards him. It landed directly on his boat, and neither the man nor the cow were ever seen again.
Now, of course, it did cross my mind to question how this last story came about, who saw it and told the story initially, but in the larger scheme of things, it really didn't seem to matter. What does it matter if these stories are true? In many ways, being located where they are they says everything about a disillusioned and angry land that questions the role of 'progress', a 'progress' that during it's heyday slaughtered much the country's dairy stock and saw the private pursuit of fishing as unnecessary, not to mention the desired fate of the foreign imported car. This is not the kind of urban mythology that one would hear in countries that have historically treasured their livestock, England or the US or for that matter New Zealand. It's not too hard, therefore, to imagine that urban myth might be used as a tool, a partisan against the oppressor. Without implicating the teller of the story as a traitor or an enemy of the state, huge nationalism can be expressed in a small story about a cow.
As I mentioned at the outset, urban myth has a lot of similarities with the properties of gossip. Interestingly, where urban myth has historically been taken much more seriously than gossip, there is now a recognition of the validity of gossip as a form of testimony. The very real problem that people have with gossip which strangely they don't have with urban mythology is that it is considered 'unauthored' or 'untraceable' or 'unfixed' in historical time. Jacques Derrida, philosopher and cultural theorist famous for his theories on 'deconstruction' of language, discussed the notion that where gossip did place itself as historical and political, it exemplified ' a principle of contamination, a law of impurity, a parasitical economy...a law of abounding, of excess, a law of participation without membership”. It has traditionally been gendered as a female occupation, not an important form of socializing and recognizing your enemies or your friends. As art historian, Griselda Pollock writes on the subject, 'for the simple fact that gossip is not seen to arise out of structures of knowledge which connect notions of truth with empirical, verifiable evidence and with the scientific researcher's moral obligation to assume personal responsibility for a truth”, it would not be taken seriously. She seems to overlook, however, one of the most compelling slogans that came out of World War II to new recruits of GIs “Loose Lips Might Sink Ships”. Of course, this was the warning to all recruits to refrain from giving any unauthorised information out to anyone, even one's nearest and dearest. Obviously, there was some fear that unauthorised information was useful to the enemy somehow.
We cannot be too confused about the roles of gossip and urban legend or myth, as is generally agreed, urban myth or legend serves society as did the ancient myths and legends. They are just updated cautionary tales, usually embroiled in some moral message and often just the tale of someone's bad judgement, luck or crime. With all of their undercurrents and sub-texts they both prove to be elusive forms of information spreading, that serve some purpose in the localized context to which they are being transmitted.
Myths and legends have created many of the building blocks for our various social codes and laws. But today, can we really say that these forms of information transmission, or the transmission of opinion, are really so localized any more. From the ancient Hindu mysticism involved in worshipping the sacred cow, to traditional Biblical stories of the fatted calf on the return of the prodigal son; the golden calf that was the icon of trans-substantiating produce into economy to early Azerbaijan myth of the cow being the symbol of life-force and strength, the cow is a creature that has been revered and respected globally.
When England, shortly followed by news that it was in Europe and had reached the US, was gripped by the increasingly desperate stories and realities of what was so charmingly called 'mad cow disease' which was what cow's got,or the more humane and scientifically entitled 'new variant Creutzfeldt – Jakob disease' that humans got, the cow became the enemy. Gossip and urban myth, quickly incarnated itself as scientific fact and the news media were the main story tellers. One of the immediate questions was of course, where did it come from? On April 29 2001, India Abroad News Service broadcast that the British Army were blamed for the transportation of Foot and Mouth epidemic. Well, that's got a subtext worth thinking about.
Gradually, of course more likely stories came out. Domestic and oversees feed merchants had been cutting costs on their grain output by mixing it up with ground up bone meal, bone from the cow. Cow was feasting on cow, and humans were wondering why that was a problem. The first case of 'mad cow' disease was found in the US in 2003 in Washington state. The British 'Guardian' newspaper tells the story, and remembers to add the details of how the cow was identified as as a Holstein, “which was tested because it was a 'downer', unable to walk when it arrived at the Washington State slaughterhouse. The meat from the cow was nevertheless sent to a processing plant”.
Now in 2006, it's the turn of the chicken. 'Bird Flu' the pandemic, or as it is more scientifically called Avian Influenza, or even more scientifically, H5N1 strain of the virus. The BBC reports that by the end of February 2006 there have been 90 reported deaths globally of people from the virus and thousands upon thousands of birds died or have been slaughtered. The structures of the stories that we hear about Avian Influenza, or maybe AI....maybe not as it's a bit close to Artificial Intelligence... tells us that it is all related. But who really benefits, is how I've recently taken to questioning these stories . In this case it could be the cow as the heat is off them now, or more likely... the beef farmers.
Like the poor cows falling from the sky, it's manna from heaven for them. Of course, this is completely uncorroborated and just my opinion, but on a small scale the story could go something like this.
There was a family of self sufficient chicken farmers in Washington State who lived on a small plot of land among three large farmers of beef. They were really into their organic life and had inherited the land generations ago. They were regularly asked to sell up by one or other of the beef farmers, but had to this day resisted. In 2003 during the early stages of the panic of 'mad cow disease' in the US,these beef farmers were ordered by the state to destroy their herds, as cases had been found very locally. The farmers went bust and had to sell their land off, and ironically they sold it to the chicken farmer. That family then had more land than the three other farmers put together. They had never had it so good.
The beef farmers were really upset, but survived the next few years by learning new technologies and setting up small dot com businesses, some of them started writing stories in agricultural journals about their experiences.
A few years later, the beef crises died down and the family that had raised chickens had so many now they were rich, started reading reports that their was a mysterious 'bird flu' going around that was attacking poultry and people were dying of it all over the world. What's more it was heading their way. Knowing the catastrophe of the beef farmers, they decided better to be safe than sorry and so decided to destroy all their resources so they would know they were not responsible for any deaths. They were rich enough it didn't really matter, the last few years had been good for them.
Anyway, so there they all were on this land with no cattle, no poultry, and no knowledge about growing fruit or vegetables. All of them, decided to move to the city. They got a good price for the land from the military and now they're all working in consultancy roles.
I doubt that this story will catch on, but keep your eyes and ears open.

Emily Clark

Road trips are all very well and good but...

2006-02-24T12:19:00.000+13:00

You see this place - this is the entry into Gisborne , if we were in South East England, it would fall into that category of "Gisborne-on-Sea". It's quite late in the day, and I've been on the road for the whole day. I went to go and try and find room at the inn and couldn't - Sunday night, but I did find a friendly policeman who booked me for speeding. Not funny, and has tarnished my view of Gisborne for ever. I high tailed it out of there.

The night was getting darker, I was getting more weary and it was time to draw a halt on the proceedings. I found a suitable spot to kip down in the back of the car and slept like a baby. The next day was just a couple of hours drive and I was home - sweet home. It was a lovely trip but I had definately stayed over my seredipidous time. I'd pushed it and it had pushed me.
When I returned home, I knew that something had changed. I couldn't go on thinking that I was on holiday any more. Something had to give, something had to change.
But first - a quick trip up to Hanana to do some physical work and get some meditation in. It was time to do some netting. Nearly four days of isolation and working in the fields and this is the result.
spread the net wide

peg it down

take some lovely photos and hey presto! ARt - oh yeah add to the mix a title "This Network is closing down - I didn't hear it through this Grapevine" and a healthy amount of ego.....
Can I say it's a reflection on the closing down public information through public media networks. Saw it in the States and now NZ is at an impasse - to go the way of the UK or the US> humm...tough decision.

No art work would be in the least bit convincing if it didn't show the artist's tools.
All very high tech.
It was lovely and my mind was made up. Time to get productive.
I've been writing and keeping sober. I'm submitting a paper for conference in London. Rehashing my thesis into an 1000word proposal was hard, is hard. I'm still working on it, but it must be e-mailed to them on Monday. I don't hold out much hope for it's acceptance, but it's been a useful exercise to sort out what I think I'm going to be doing for this PhD. The guide lines that you get with these call for papers are all very useful.

I've joined a small writing group which pleases me greatly, so every week I take to them a four/five page segment of either my tome about
Georgia, or a short essay on some local news topic. This week I'm going to write a little something inspired by an article that I saw on Yahoo News page, entitled "Dementia linked to educated people" - well blow me, I thought we educated people were above all of that. I hope that you're all keeping up with this, as this blogsite is supposed to be some reflections on the ideology of contemporary education. Admittedly, it hasn't been completely focused on that.....

So I've been solitary and sweating over a hot computer and today, this very morning, I went to the opening ceremony of the biannual New Zealand International Arts Festival. I don't think I'm going to be here for the next one, so I'm trying to catch as much as possible.

It's a dawn ceremony to welcome all the participants from the local Maori community. It's all about the land and ancestors. We were all reminded that we bring our ancestors to their land and the desire is that they don't start warring immediately, so lots of singing and lots of graciousness. As the sun came up and the speeches went on, we delighted in sound of Maori songs, and then the lady who led the singing, was inspired and got us all singing "you are my sunshine" for the English contingent and "Alouette" for th French. The chinese sang their own and there was some mysterious American song that I had no idea what it was. Here's a few images.

And just before I sign off for the day. I'll just leave you with a lovely night sky.

2006-02-24T08:27:00.000+13:00

Onward ever onward

So I decided I was on my way to Rotorua, to go and check out the thermal pools and treat me-self to a good massage.

On the way out of Napier, I picked up a couple of likely youths. Two Pakeha boys of about 17 ( yup - strange but true) They turned out to be rather dull company on the way to Lake Taupo (pictured left), but we did have one funny conversation that lingers in my mind. After a rather boring conversation about cars and music, they politely asked me if I minded them smoking. Of course I did not, and they duly rolled me one. Then, they asked me if it was OK if they had a beer. I complied, and knew that they had already knocked some back. And then....they asked if I minded if they threw the beer bottles out the window!! Well, I"m afraid I put my foot down...not on the gas. I couldn't believe it, but resisted giving them a lecture and thanked them for asking me.

I dropped them off at Lake Taupo and decided that although I was hot and steamy, I wouldn't leap into the Lake just yet so pictured from the car and continued on my merry way.

What a lovely water way is Huka Falls. I never get over the colour of the water and the sheer force of it as it rips through the land. This particular body of water has been harnessed for hydro electricity, and I was told by a lovely Irish lady, Emir (pronounced EEEMMMAAa) that there is a place here that you can find yourself in a thermal pool and then right next door into a plunge pool. I think I understood it was all al fresco and sounded lovely and very natural. Maybe I'll go back to it, it's not that far away, but I was determined to get to Rotorua, and time was ticking.

Further along the road, about 50 kms away from my destination, I began to smell the pungency of the sulphur pools. I really didn't mind it too much, but I've heard of so many complaints. I was close but I still had to drop off and see things along the way as the sun was still up. This is a rather touristy place, but hey, I'm a tourist, so I have to appreciate all these places, but I wasn't tempted by many to stay here even though they have glorified sulphur pools and all looks very reigned in.

I wish I could remember the name of this place, but I can't, so it goes without a name. So I was by this stage about 30 kms away from R. and on the way I passed by a strange establishment of a 'genuine Maori village' - well, further along the road I found out that there was some relevance to the uprooting of the Maori. R. is said to be the real "maori new zealand" - well, uhm.....There wasn't much evidence that I could see. Not like the real fishing settlements that are still in exitence on the east coast of the North Island. When I arrived in R. I was rather at a loss as to where I was going to stay, and Winnie was over heating again. So noticing that every single motel that was just on the outskirts of town had it's own spa and all looked the same for a fairly reasonable price. I decided to explore more. I was of course still waiting for ever so important e-mails and so headed for the first attractive cafe that I could find that had internet access.

I found the Arts Cafe, got a coffee and plonked myself outside to have a cig. Before very long, I was joined by the owner of the cafe and she then filled me in on her tale of woe about how the partnership with the cafe ownership had all gone sour and times were hard as the tourists were not coming to Rotorua or NZ in general because of the state of the economy. New Zealand is about three times as expensive as it was five years ago.

I sympathised with her and we chatted about lighter things. She then asked me where I was staying. I said that I hadn't picked a place yet, and went off to use the INterenet. As I was leaving, I said my goodbyes, and she said "you might like Cactus Jack's just round the corner".

Cactus Jack's - the most surreal hostel that I've ever stayed in. The whole place done out to the minutest detail (ish) like a Mexican border town, and each room part of the town. Pictured above is the couple of rooms decked out as the stables, my room was next door, the barbershop. It was run by Joe a lovely Geordie and his Kiwi wife. They weren't responsible for the decor but they were keeping it all together and made me feel very much at home. They also had a core group of people who had stayed there for many months. The first night I arrived , they invited me to go out with them to bid farewell to one of their crew who was leaving. It was a great fun night and many hangovers the next day. The day I chose to go and get pummelled by a local masseur. I went and did some laps in one of the largest pools that I've ever swum in, and by the time my massage was due I was feeling fairly back to normal. My masseur hailed me warmly and told me he knew me...I was somewhat confused, but it turned out that he was one of the crew from Cactus Jacks and he had been one of the crew that had come out the night before. A very nice french guy called Gabriel.

Over the next couple of days, I met a bunch of really nice people, including Celia who had been a lecturer in womens and social studies at Massey in Palmerston North, but had recently jacked the whole thing in to pursue her music. I went to see her play a couple of weeks later in Wellington and it was a joy. She was with an American woman called Kim who was travelling around, and at that concert Kim told me sadly that while she had been away, her partner had left her for someone else. Oh well, she had Celia. I also had a fascinating discussion with a guy from the Netherlands who told me of the trend at home for shipping over American log cabins..

So the following morning I had one final massage, this time a special one called an Aix which was a goo pummelling again accompanied by hot sulphur spring water as well - Wow.

So, back on the road again and on to the Coramandel Peninsula. ON the way I passed through this rather strange town. This was Tirau - I was in the middle of the bible-belt.

You can't really see unfortunately from these images but the dog and the sheep were together and standing with them was a good shepherd. All very picturesque but nevertheless a strange and bizarre town.

The weather got worse as I went over the mountains and the drive was fairly arduous, but I knew that I could make it before nightfall so I pressed on. I took in a couple of beaches on the way. I nearly got ribbed out to sea, so it was more of a douse than a swim. This was advertised as being hot water, but it wasn't.

I'm inbetween Cathedral Cove and Devil's Point and feeling very much in the thick of it.

I'm not far from Coramandel now, and the weather really doesn't seem to be getting any better, but as I descent the final hill into Coromandel, something spectacular.
A few dodgy pics thatI had to take while circumnavigating the windy road.

It was really hard to find somewhere desirable to stay as the very small and pretty town was beseiged by people who had come up for the fishing, but eventually I did find a little hostel tucked away,and went to get some fish and chips to eat as the sun was going down. I gotten bittten to buggery, but it was very lovely.

This was also a strange little hostel, run by the very dominating and overpowering Lynda, but she turned out to be very nice as the evening formalities became a little less formal. Her place:
She was very reminiscent of many of the white, middle class 50 something year old hippy women who have some infatuation with African women and a desire to be African in some strangely colonial way. THere was a small and select crew staying and we all felt the need to sing. The family that led the way were great and we had a lot of fun. I wish I had a piccie of Lynda - a very handsome woman indeed. The next morning she was excellent enough to cook each and everyone of us a plate of pancakes. Fine hospitality. IN the middle of the night I went to the pub on the corner to get more beers for us and some cigs. The pub was live and kicking at 1.00am - they were having a wake.

Success is no success at all without a n'ol banjo

2006-01-31T14:04:00.000+13:00

At last I have some movement from the American contingent. I have one reference which is really rather flattering. Hilariously, it is not very different from what I wrote and I have to forge the signature for authenticity. It's all so corrupt. Anyway, it's almost in the bag, and then I have no more excuses.

Anyway, in the mean time, went up to the Wairapa to go and tend the vines, nearly broke my back, but I'll return to that later.

I took the guitar up which was a big hit with the girls, although I think that horses are still going to be their number one favourite. Izz composed a very special song called "A Song with no name and no words". Genius!

I just stayed up there for three days, and just as the weather was really hotting up, I decided to do a day in the vines, spraying with some noxious fluid to exterminate powdery mildew that attacks the leaves. Indeed the leaves did not look very attractive as they were covered in warts and nodules. I should have taken a picture, I will so that I can retain the information for Georgia. It took me a good day, which managed to fit in a couple of swims and a two hour lunch break.

I love this picture, it's so rock and role. It could be LA somewhere, with a faded 6 year old rockstar.

After the hazy days at Wairapa, I set off back to Wellington, only to realise that I was ready for another road trip.

So the following morning, I arose a the cracking of the sky and set of in my trusty motor. And the day started with a gently drive up Route 2, past Upper Hutt, dodging the rocks in the road that had fallen down the night before due to the excessive rainfall and subsequent landslide. It's a dreadful region for it. Stopping off for petrol, I noticed that Winifred was heating up rather quickly. Lights were flashing up on the dashboard but according to the manual these were only warning lights, and I felt my self dutifullywarned.
I decided that if I made it over the Tararua Range, I'd have a long breakfast on the other side and give Winnie a long time drink. The light was flickering on and off all the way over the mountains, and I decided not to stop immediately. Having left at 5.30 am I arrived in Eketuhuna by 8.00am. I"ve been hearing alot about Eketehuna recently, something about the fact that the towns people want to change the name to "Eketehuna - City of Excitement" or something, I"m being sarcastic of course, but I was rather drawn to the place. I stopped for a sandwich, egg and bacon, and waited for the garage to open. It didn't so I asked the Kiwi, wise old bird what I should do. It was deccided that we would move on as the wise old bird in the cafe who had been up since 2.00am making sandwiches for truckers, told me that she was expecting them soon. I decided to leave her waiting.
Hightailing out of there, I skimmed the map for good old english names such as Wimbledon and Wanstead and Wallingford and then my eye was caught by Taumatawhakatangihangakoauauotamateapokaiwhenuaitanatahu. I had to go and visit.
Nobody lives here as afar as I could see, just a flock of sheep and a battered out old shed of a house.But it's not about the population. The story goes that there was a very reknowned and respected chief and warrior called Tamatea. He is the ancestor of the Ngati Kahungaunu people of Porangahau, and aquired many names to commemorate his prowess. Passing through the inland district of Porangahau, he encountered the Ngati Hine people and had to fight them to get through. In this battle, "Matanui", his brother was killed. In his grief he stayed in the area for some time, and would sit on the top of the hill, lamenting his brother's loss, on his Koauau ( a kind of flute). So the name indicates the hilll on which Tamatea, the chief of great physical stature and renown, played a lament on his flute to the memory of his brother.
It's always worth asking what's in a name?

But the open road is calling and there is the call for moving on. Yet again Winnie is definately showing signs of overheating and I'm return to my anxious state. The next town on the route and one I prayed had a garage, was Porangahau. So I didn't have to fight anyone to get through this road, but I was wondering whethere I would be stuck on the grassy knoll lamenting the collapse of my trusty chariot. As I was admiring the surrounding and having a smoke, with Winnie's bonnet up exposing all her business to the empty land, a trucker pulled up.

"Broken down?" he asked cheerily.

"No, I don't think so", I said trying to sound confident." Just a little over heated. Do you know of any garages around here?"

"Garages? I don't know, but there is a pub."

"Huh, well that'll do" I laughed back.

That was enough to then be hearing about his trials and tribulations. He'd left all his wallet and smokes back in town and was thus having a shitty day. I didn't think that he was really begging, but I offered him a few smokes and gratefully he went on his merry way. He promised that he would look out for me on the road.

He set off, and I felt the need to prove that nothnig was wrong. Thankfully, the key turned and ignition sparked. I followed him for a bout 100 yards and then he went off on a completely different root. I didn't see him again.

2006-01-21T11:32:00.000+13:00

I've been rather depressed over the last few days. Life is going on all over the world and I'm not sure where I am within it, if I am. I think I wish not to be.

Indonesian security forces shot dead four teenagers walking to school in the troubled province of Papua, including a close relative of an activist who fled to Australia this week, an Indonesian human rights group says.
Indonesian authorities say just one person was shot dead and two others injured.
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window.yzq_d['gRfBQstU2bA-']='&U=139cv6kgn%2fN%3dgRfBQstU2bA-%2fC%3d389282.7871180.8720238.1826602%2fD%3dLREC%2fB%3d3209971';
Benny Giay, chairman of the human rights group ELSHAM, told The Sydney Morning Herald the students, aged between 13 and 15, were ambushed on their way to school on Friday in what appeared to be an unprovoked attack.
One of the teenagers, Moses Douw, 13, was said to be a close relative of one of the 43 refugees who landed at Cape York on Wednesday in an outrigger that featured a large sign claiming military oppression in Papua.
The attack took place at the village of Waghete, which is in a region many of the asylum seekers came from.
A fifth student was injured in the attack and a man was badly beaten, Mr Giay told the Herald.
Greens Senator Kerry Nettle called for an investigation into the shootings, which she said appeared to be a reprisal for the arrival of the asylum seekers in Australia.
"It is particularly disgusting that it appears the five people shot were school children," she told the Herald.
But Colonel Kertono Wangsadisastra said only one person was killed and another two were injured.
He said the shooting occurred during a clash between police and security forces and a group of more than 100 people outside a police station.
"The civilians got angry and started beating the police and soldiers. Then the shooting occurred," he said.
West Papua National Association spokesman Nick Chesterfield also called the shooting a reprisal attack.
"One of the young boys killed was a relative of someone with the same name, who is on Christmas Island at the moment," he said.
"They embarrassed the government, and they have finally brought international attention to the issue of West Papua."
The refugees have been sent to Christmas Island for processing by the Australian government.
Democrats Foreign Affairs spokeswoman Natasha Stott Despoja said she was disturbed by the reports.
"This latest violence highlights the ongoing human rights abuses in that region."
She said the Howard government must play a role in ensuring the safety of the asylum seekers and "those in West papua fearing for their lives".
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2006-01-18T09:52:00.000+13:00

Ah me, how the weather changes. The sun has gone and the wind and the rain are setting in.
I've just been on the phone to California, trying to rustle them up into some action. No immediate gratification, but I did find a rather funny 'review' of Susan, by one of her students at San Francisco State, referring to how confusing she is, how crap she is at dealing with e-mails.....tell me something I don't know, but I wouldn't go so public with my dissatisfaction. Interesting to find though.

After taking this course, I now have absolutely no love of poetry anymore. First of all, Ms. Gevirtz is very confusing when she is trying to instruct the class. She is very vague in her answers to questions and you will never recieve a straight answer, even in regards to how to approach assignments. Most of the class consists of talking about the work of certain authors, however many of the readings have little to no value when it comes to poetry. They are complex and out of a class of approximately thirty students only five students did any talking. Ms. Gevirtz seemed to be under the assumption that we would understand these concepts without any guidance by the instructor. The were some instances where the instructor talked down to students if they did not know how to grasp the concepts. There was one instance where she said that we had to be treated as elementary school children, which many of us took offense to. there was also a factor involved in availability of the instructor. She does not respond well to e-mails and she will be very hard to reach if you have questions concerning the assigned reading.

It's all rather hilarious, but I can't help but feel somewhat sorry for her as I remember once being reviewed by a load of students that I was teaching Desk top publishing to, and one out spoken student complained about not learning what she wanted to learn (upstart) and my fee was reduced by half. Well, I didn't have the support of the college or anything at that time. What's very interesting is this whole inability of students to speak to the person directly. All very worrying. Tell-tales, all rather disastrous.

I'm rather glad that the weather has changed today, as I was beginning to feel abit too much like I was on holiday. Even though yesterday on the beach, I settled into a very interesting book that Natasha gave me on leaving Georgia, on Art Criticism and Curating East of the EU. It's basically a transcript of a conference in Turkey as part of their 8th Istanbul Biennial. It reminded me about other's realities, and I began to feel the ol' guilt about sunning it up too much here.

So saying all that and taking on this rather sanctimonious tone, I'd better get on with something productive. There is something that I must do.

2006-01-16T19:24:00.000+13:00

Another busy day....first of all appointment to have coffee with bro in the morning, and a quick haircutting sess.

Now I'm all set for .....more sunshine, sea and sex. I'm still trying to write a moderate e-mail to one of my referees, but I'm really losing any will to continue with this business.

I've decided that life is sweet, life as a beach bum. Why stress it is my question?

Oh yeah, I also got a Rice Cooker on 'trade me' for 20NZ dollars. Bargain. Time to get cooking.

I'm going to make a chilli tonight.

working hard

2006-01-15T13:05:00.000+13:00

Well, when I left you yesterday, I checked my spelling, it was dreadful and I decided to go to the beach, well four in fact.

This was the first one, I had it to myself for about half an hour and then it was beseiged by kids, dogs and what not. I made a great effort to keep my dignity and change under my bathrobe, only to find that by the time I'd done my changing and de-robed, I was brandishing a titty. Such carelessness.

When the 10 people got too overwhelming, I found this beach

Might be deemed as the same beach, it was only 2/300 metres up the road, but it didn't have peeps on it, so swim 2.

And then it got a little cloudy and I was getting hungry and looking for facitlities so I found myself at

Scorching Bay, the other 1/2 were called 'worser bay' and they were.

Scorching bay was holiday'sville and my camera was clogged up with sand.

Shutter wouldn't open, but I love the allusion to 'go faster' or rather 'just do it' (Nike)

so i did, swam and had food at the lovely 'Chocolate Fish' Cafe

They do the most lovely panini with various condiments that really make it, and then my favourite, the ice-coffee with ice-cream and whatd'ya know, a chocolate fish. If I never write about them again, I've never seen them anywhere else, but they are chocolate fish with marshmallow/creme innards. Disgusting, but they do work when frozen in an ice coffee. Izzy and Chess love them. They bring me out in pimples.

Oh., yeah I did go out nightclubbing at the one and only "Pound" and I have company.

bye for now

Doing something proactive

2006-01-14T09:55:00.000+13:00

Like millions of people, I will try and find something I can do, when faced with something that seems too difficult to deal with.
So, I woke up with my usual optimism this morning, the New Zealand sun shining through my window. The piccie is the view from my window, not bad eh? I could watch the view all day, ships coming and going, trains coming around the mountain, cars gridlocking and brave cyclists whizzing down the Gorge.
There was an earthquake this morning at 4.00am. It was just up the road, if I'd not been asleep, I'd have felt it. It was a 4.3, rather similar to the one we had about a month ago which happened at about 9.00pm. I was busy doing nothing at my computer, when there was a huge rumbling and quaking, and I was just about to go upstairs and reprimand them for moving furniture around at this time of night. Anyway I didn't and then an hour later, it was reported that the area had just had an earthquake.
Well, no one was hurt in either of those quakes, but I can't say that it doesn't concern me, as my house and road are perilously perched on the side of the gorge, just looking for any opportunity to jump in.
It's about time for a large earthquake in New Zealand, so I'm told.
Well, I can wait.
I remember the only earthquake I experienced in San Francisco and it was about 3 weeks after I'd arrived.
I was sitting outside the mexican restaurant that I would frequent quite regularly, around the corner from the campus, quietly reading a book and munching on my quesidilla. All of a sudden, I heard what I thought was the sound of a truck approaching, somewhere close, but I couldn't see anything. Almost at the same time, my chair moved forward like someone had come up behind me and pushed it. I didn't even realise it was an earthquake.
When I think of the awful devastation in Pakistan recently and various other quakes, it must be stressed in my mind that they are tremors, but apparently, 4.3 is quite big really.

So, back to this morning. My usual routine, check my e-mails and then spend at least two hours doing something quite innane on the computer. Sometimes, it's hours of pouring through the auction goodies on New Zealand's site www.trademe.com

I shouldn't knock it, this is where I bought my car, in which I am very pleased.

But this morning, I looked through the options instigated by a search of PhD courses in Visual Culture. Interestingly, options for these courses came up in Tehran and South Africa among the usual suspects of the UK and the US.

I don't really know what I was looking for, it was just one of those random things that the internet is so good for, where something of interest and use might have arisen, but there wasn't anything. I wanted to ask, on a PhD chat site, whether it was normal practice for people to write their own references, or whether it was as feared, my punishment for having behaved very badly in the eyes of the Americans, and they were not keen to recommend me to anyone.

One thing they've always been very good at, and I've been susceptible to is the guilt and paranoia of situations borne out of ignorance. Waiting and not knowing is horrible, so trying to be proactive, in order to keep things ticking over. So important thoughts are thought, like 'how cruel is it to hoover up spiders?' 'Do they survive and can you let them run free afterwards, does the force of the vacuum rip off their legs?'

They look pretty fragile to me. I'm also contemplating going out clubing tonight, and see whether I 'll meet the love of my life.

So, I've hoovered (leaving the spiders alone) and I've done my washing, and it's a beautiful day out there. So, it would seem sensible not to waste the day, as there is a good breeze blowing, just right for drying. I think I have to do something about this encroaching over hanging tree, yeah, maybe today is the day to do some gardening.

So you can see that there is quite a lot of work that needs to be done in the garden. Today, may

be the day whent something gets done, well, at least, this weekend.

I've been thinking of growing a little herb garden in these areas, rather than the option of just a few pretty flowers.

Webster's Dictionary says about education

2006-01-13T20:54:00.000+13:00

education
The act or process of educating; the result of educating, as determined by the knowledge skill, or discipline of character, acquired; also, the act or process of training by a prescribed or customary course of study or discipline; as, an education for the bar or the pulpit; he has finished his education. "To prepare us for complete living is the function which education has to discharge." (H. Spenser)
Synonym: Education, Instruction, Teaching, Training, Breeding.
Education, properly a drawing forth, implies not so much the communication of knowledge as the discipline of the intellect, the establishment of the principles, and the regulation of the heart. Instruction is that part of education which furnishes the mind with knowledge. Teaching is the same, being simply more familiar. It is also applied to practice; as, teaching to speak a language; teaching a dog to do tricks. Training is a department of education in which the chief element is exercise or practice for the purpose of imparting facility in any physical or mental operation. Breeding commonly relates to the manners and outward conduct.
Origin: L. Educatio; cf. F. Education.
Source: Websters Dictionary
(01 Mar 1998)

Something that is curious to me

2006-01-13T19:52:00.000+13:00

Recently this came to my attention as an alumni of California College of the Arts, I came across this job advertisment for an Assistant Professorship in Art History and Visual Studies:-

Minimum Qualifications
Successful candidates will be expected to have completed their Ph.D. at the time of appointment. Applicants should show evidence of effective teaching or equivalent professional experience, as well as a track record of publication and/or professional activity.

For further information about this job, please see www.cca.edu/about/jobs/view/1707

Right, so let me get this straight. All the research that takes towards writing doctoral thesis, and papers for publication, /and or professional activity.....and what happens to transmitting information. Lots of extremely erudite professors, have no idea how to teach. Why? Well it's just my theory, but there seems, in my experience, a complete inability on their part, to take anyone ( who is not a 'doctor') seriously. Especially, if their practice differs to yours.

As an interesting development, I know at least one person (mentioning no names) who for quite a few years has held a post as chair of one course along with vice chair of another. She has no PhD, and publications are limited. Is she qualified for her job? No. She once said to me in confidence, that she hoped that it would not become the next qualification for jobs in the field.
Her tardiness in saying this comment, made me retaliate with my usual sarcasm, saying
"I thought you were all about education". For that I apologise, I know what she means really. After all, there is the huge thorny question about how is this all to be paid for?
My mum thinks that people who apply for teaching jobs, should be trained to teach, so here seem to be the options so far.
1) Get extremely qualified, give the right information, and be an inspirational figure head , but a potential bore in the class room and the staff room.
2) Muck in with the job at hand and slowly do your area of expertise while learning by experience in the class room, always learning from the concerns of your peers and students who offer new and interesting perspectives.
3) Learn to teach, and hope it's the right formula.

But I digress, I said that first of all, I would consider what it meant to be 'educated'.

well, here goes

2006-01-13T18:08:00.000+13:00

For anyone who recognises themselves and considers me to be being unfair, I apologise in advance.
Certain things have come to my attention recently, certain comments and attitudes and current states of affairs that I just can't ignore anymore, so that's just it. Things have to be said.

I should just explain that as well as being a diary of what is involved in applying for this PhD, I'll also just be ranting.
At this moment, I haven't even completed my application yet. I've written some 5000 words for the proposal of my project, an investigation into the role of art in medical imaging, with the hope of curating a film festival purely concentrating on portrayal of the anatomy through film. But, and it's a big BUTT, I'm waiting for references from previous faculty that had promised they would be referees. We are at the stage, where they have asked me to write my own references, which they will then 'doctor' and send on. Well, it's been a couple of months, so I'm pissed off. So bare with me.

Here is a little something about where I've been for the last couple of years:

http://www.sites.cca.edu/sightlines/2005/eclark_bio.html

what does it mean to be 'educated'?

2006-01-13T17:45:00.000+13:00

Right, as I'm working out how to do this blog thing, I'll just let you know in advance that this particular journey is quite complicated, I'm going to try and put in as much information that is useful to people as I possibly can, but be aware, that this is also a journey of frustrations and incredibly long moments of nothing at all.
I hope that it will all become clearer to you as the blog progresses.
First question: Why educated and not 'trained'? What does it really mean to be 'educated'?

education
The act or process of educating; the result of educating, as determined by the knowledge skill, or discipline of character, acquired; also, the act or process of training by a prescribed or customary course of study or discipline; as, an education for the bar or the pulpit; he has finished his education. "To prepare us for complete living is the function which education has to discharge." (H. Spenser)
Synonym: Education, Instruction, Teaching, Training, Breeding.
Education, properly a drawing forth, implies not so much the communication of knowledge as the discipline of the intellect, the establishment of the principles, and the regulation of the heart. Instruction is that part of education which furnishes the mind with knowledge. Teaching is the same, being simply more familiar. It is also applied to practice; as, teaching to speak a language; teaching a dog to do tricks. Training is a department of education in which the chief element is exercise or practice for the purpose of imparting facility in any physical or mental operation. Breeding commonly relates to the manners and outward conduct.
Origin: L. Educatio; cf. F. Education.
Source: Websters Dictionary
(01 Mar 1998)

Welcome to this blog site

2006-01-13T17:10:00.000+13:00

Hi everyone, I'd like to introduce myself. My name is Emily and right now, I'm living in New Zealand. I've been in San Francisco for the last two years and am originally from the UK. I'm here to talk about education and qualifications andwhat it means to be qualified in the academic world.
Just as a quick background, I did all my significant acredited schooling in the UK, and then dropped out of a BA course in Philosophy and Sociology at Sunderland Polytechnic, as it was in those days. I forgot education and qualifications for the next 10 years and then, it began to dawn on me, that in someway it was important, and that's what I"m going to be looking at. Having just completed my Masters in Fine Art in San Francisco, Im now looking at pursuing a PhD in Fine Art, here in New Zealand, so travel with me , as this year I apply and see what happens.
For further information about what I've been up to:
http://www.sites.cca.edu/sightlines/2005/eclark_bio.html