Going Continental!: December 2008 Archives

It occurs to me that I have an occasionally-troubled relationship with time. The patience of the Dutch impresses me: the decades and generations, for instance, of carefully reclaiming land from the sea. The paintings of Johannes Vermeer and the woodcuts and lithographs by M.C. Escher, bespeak a lifetime of deeply-responsive and engaged living. Vermeer, we are told, shows us not what he saw, but what he wants us to see, while Escher displays a full range of perception, from the mystic to the gory. Meanwhile, in contemporary cultural Holland, one is to walk with averted eyes past each other's open windows. Apparently there is nothing to hide, and equally nothing to display. Or (?) if there is, one must pointedly not look in order not to see.

I could hardly have chosen two more counterposed artists to see in one day. Vermeer is sensual, smooth, projecting pure tranquility. Escher seems stoned, depicting fantastical images worthy of hallucinogens (and the curators seem to agree). Yet each man is obviously the product of his times - offering up images that refract the psychosocial dynamics of their era according to their respective sensibilities. Vermeer (1632-1675) spends his entire life in Delft, leaving no traces except his paintings. Guesswork fills in details, the critic's gaze and audience's imagination craving the lush life his paintings portray.

Pondering the post-war psychological commentary about the "View of Delft," painted six years after the explosion of 1654, I hopped on the tram to Scheveningen. Vermeer, argue the curators, presented the life he wished, obscuring all unpleasant details.

Musing on the forces that brought me to Holland (personal, biographic), I enjoyed seeing the sea. The interlude was necessary (it seems, in retrospect) to enable some distance from the calm vision of Vermeer to the disruptive designs of Escher. The light streaming in the window onto the photography of Thijs Tuurenhout in the upper gallery of the Vermeer Centrum also turned out to be a kind of prelude.

Maurits Cornelis Escher's choices (1898-1972) are distinctly different than Vermeer's. Escher draws on Moorish imagery, Christian mythology, biology, and warfare. Good and evil, light and dark are pitted in constant competition. The primal contest of living with its everpresent companion death is represented starkly, without reserve, and disturbingly balanced: who knows which side will prevail?

I was startled by his range: mathematical precision in rigorous interaction with inspirational and indigenous knowledges. Some work reminds me of the art of American Indians of the Pacific Northwest, others of the hints and whispers of Goddess-worshipping pagans. The psychological entwines with the institutional . . . did he know how much the Swans (1956) begin to resemble the double helix? Could he have imagined that Magic Mirror (1946) evokes the quantum mechanics discovery of wave-particle duality? I imagine the powerful representations of war and violence in Escher's work have been well mined, but what about his prescience about the environment, as seen in Puddle (1952)?

I did not take many pictures of (what I react to as) the creepy stuff. It occurred to me that maybe this is a difference between liberals and conservatives in the U.S.? Liberals want everything to be happy, and conservatives know it just ain't so. Too simplistic, of course, but it was a new lens (for me) on that divide. Can you see the skull in the center of this eye?

Hurled at the audience in mockery of our mortality, these questions form part of the text of the three-dimensional "Virtual Reality" video of Escher's work (by Wennekes Multimedia 2007, too bad I can't find it online). Escher played knowledge against perception, daring us not to fear the miscegenation. Somehow, he managed to merge these modes into coherent art. Each single piece captures an aspect of universal complexity, while the oeuvre illustrates a purposeful trajectory.

Me? I get caught between trying to catch the essential qualities of lived moments and the progression toward a larger, cumulative contribution. The insight with which I opened this blogpost involved the spirit of my parents' lives as I was growing up: their ambition to be part of the class-conscious carnival with its exaggerated pleasures and lapses of ennui between episodes of spectacle. This may explain a deep kind of patterned cycle that I find occasionally interrupting otherwise steady progress towards my own longterm goals.

Reflexivity got scooped! Alyssa describes her experience of last night's Winter Solstice event:

My molecules are still buzzing today. :-) Talk about an infusion of goodwill and high spirits to draw back the sun! Mahtab expresses exactly how I feel:

Alyssa's summary is terrific - read hers first (why not?!); she gives context for the following details . . .

FOOD:

• Ugandan smoked salmon salad
• Czech potato salad (special for christmas)
• American macaroni-and-cheese (thanks Ruth!)
• mangoo and fried salami from the Dominican Republic
• very special Iranian rice
• mini-chicken curry puff pockets (homemade dough, too!)
• and was that Trinidadian chicken?!
• not to mention Nigerian popcorn (!)
• and various fresh veggies with dips,
• assorted chips, nuts, cheeses and
• desserts galore.

PERFORMANCES:

• Patricia - Phantom of the Opera (a capela, English)
• Jose & Annmarie - a cop and two crows (see poem below): the poor guy probably doesn't have a clue what hit him! (Flemish & English)
• Steph - Life, Love & Laughter by Donovan; Come Along by Titiyo; and Miles From Nowhere by Cat Stevens (courtesy of iTunes; American Sign Language)
• Marse - the Czech National Anthem (a capela, Czech) and a large photography book of Czech natural beauty.
• Annmarie & Steph - poetry by Leonard Peltier, My Life is My Sundance, and "Some Days You Get the Bear" MariJo Moore (Dutch, English, and American Sign Language)
• Tolu - inspiring us all to dance to Gongo Aso (Igbo)
• Gen - boldly leading a communal drumming circle (stools, tabletops, silverware, bowls and beerglasses)
• Mahmoud & Bouchra - drumming and belly dancing (Egyptian & Moroccan)
• Katelijn, Anneleen, & Oriana - a sonata (Trio in F Major) by Telemann, two lengthy improvisations, and a smattering of playfulness (cello, bass clarinet, flute)
• Alyssa, Anneleen, & Oriana - improvisation (cello, bass clarinet, flute)
• last, but not least, Steven's photography: next time he'll have to manage to arrive a little earlier! (black-and-white with occasional bursts of color).

I agree completely with Alyssa that the best part of the closing performance was the improvisation. This was the first time these three women have played together - which makes the perception of Alyssa's trained ear even more significant: they sounded as if they have played together for years. The trio sounded just as good when Alyssa was on cello, too!

Annmarie joined in spontaneously with more poetry from MariJo Moore. Annmarie's strong speaking voice merged seamlessly with the voices of string, reed, and wind. I felt the power in the moment; now, remembering and reflecting, I wonder if part of the poignancy of that moment was the way the chosen lines added punctuation, providing (perhaps, in some way) an embodiment of the interpretation I had finally decided upon for the trickiest line in Titiyo's song: "lets be the thorn in the rose." After a week (literally) of thinking about meaning and context, I chose to sign: "accept beauty and still critique."

Alyssa and Marse added vocalizations at various points along the way. Everyone's lightheartedness made the music all the more sweet: sharing with each other the full range of humor and talent made "the sphere [of our gathering]," as Jose said, "great and peaceful."

Finally, during the last beautiful improvisation, Annmarie offered up an original:

At that point, I had joined the 'circle of crows' to interpret. On first hearing Annmarie's poem, I could only attend to the prominent (dominant?) sense of "sound," missing the homonym and Annmarie's intentional double meaning. She has been working on that one for five years, so we figure I may be able to generate an adequate ASL interpretation by approximately 2013.

Until then, all my gratitude for this a once-in-a-lifetime composition of kindred spirits, and

"Mahmoud is een wonder!" Anne teased him at the moment when comprehension dawned: the lightbulb went off and Mahmoud got it: heel goed! I can tell you that I need a few more miracles if I am going to pass de examen in Januari.

I agree with Amin, who said "remembering" when we were discussing our various challenges with learning Nederlands last week:

"Heb ben jullie problemen?"
"Amin hebt een probleem speciale!"
"He's so young for Alzheimer's!"
Maar Amin is niet alleen.
Me too. :-/

Marinela answers questions on my behalf when I am too confused! (Even though a few weeks ago she was, like, uh, "How many different ways are there to say the time?!") Bouchra lets me look at her huiswerk. Excellent examples of teamwork! Topi is my role model: she thinks for awhile to see if she can figure out what Anne is asking, then she asks, "Wablieft?" Come again? Yea, and if you repeat what you said about zeven times maybe I will get it. Misschein. (sigh)

The propaganda about America and the European Parliament that I distributed for fun is obviously not enough. Papa Obama or not: ik weet het niet = nul! And I'm referring only to the vocabulary - the grammar is totally guesswork as anyone with a smattering of Nederlands is painfully aware. :-/

Marsi - even though she abandoned us to jump to level 1.4 (!) - has dropped in twice: once with candy from Sint Niklaas and just before the break (eergisteren) with cookies she says she baked herself. Uh huh. (Mahmoud had to be convinced to share them with the rest of us . . . ) Meanwhile, Tolu tells me I look like a teenager (?!) and Patricia says, "Steph is a teenager." The nerve! :-)

My accent is also awful. Tim had to ask me, "Wat?!" after nearly everything I tried to say in Nederlands. "You think I can jump that high?" I asked him. "I hope so," he replied, fervently. Jammer! I did give Susan a double take when I pronounced "Daag" properly - a feat I am not sure how I accomplished and probably cannot repeat. Marsi will never let me live down that I said smakelijk is the opposite of moeilijk. (The right answer is gemakkelijk.) [You understand why she is amused: easy, not tasty, is the opposite of difficult.]

The three days I was absent hurt. Gewledig! Big time problem. Although I did realize our infamous soap opera was poking fun at Amerikanen, even before Anne reminded everyone that I'm American. ;-) Neemt u mij niet kwalijk! We're not all bad! Then the soap turns and makes fun of itself, touching on very politically incorrect topics with the kind of humor that would not find its way into most language classes in the United States. The videoprogramma generates a special voor buitenlanders (that's us in this level one course: strangers from another land) to address kultuurimperialisme and profile the karacter op de Belg.

positief karacteriesteken op de Belg:

• diplomatic talent
• anti-authoritarianism
• respect for privacy

with accompanying negatief karacteriesteken op de Belg:

• indirect communication (niet zo open)
• separated (individualistic rather than communal)

All of this talk of stereotypen led our conversation back to kultuurshok. I realize part of my trouble with the trams and trains is that I am used to driving - which requires paying attention. When someone else is 'driving,' my mind goes elsewhere - with a book, writing, or daydreaming - then whooooooooooooooosh those stops just fly right on by! I'm amused by the supremely ordered traffic lights - specifically designated signals for automobiles, bicycles, and pedestrians - which nearly everyone obeys! There is no "language of klaxons" as Mahmoud labeled the incessant honking he, Amin, and Patricia miss from Egypt, Iraq, and the Dominican Republic. The food, we agree, is good and (!) - nearly everyone has a dish or several that they miss from home. Except for Bouchra. No kultuurshok. Grrl got it all together.

:-)

Fog shrouded my arrival in Luxembourg, persisting through the first day. The second morning dawned grey but sparkling.

What a treat to listen through headphones to an interpretation into English of Professor Joanna Nowicki's talk on intercultural communication, or - as she prefers to label it - intercultural mediation. Her critique of 'the American way [of teaching about] intercultural communication" was quite sharp: it "becomes one dimensional very fast." She generalized about management programs that simply direct their students: "with people of this nationality, do that, with people of that nationality, do this." I am not convinced that my friends in the School of Management at the University of Massachusetts-Amherst are receiving so stark a reduction, but I am familiar with trends in my department (Communication) that could lend themselves to such simplistic categorizations. No doubt Professor Nowicki's critique applies in general, if not to every case. She also describes "the American way" as "very pragmatic," explaining that, for Americans, the results of research must be useful.

Research and the real world

Personally, I am inclined to agree with the goal of research needing to have practical use: theory alone is dancing in air. Beautiful, yes. And exclusive. Again, however, it is unclear to me how generally this categorization applies to all American research, as there is only one official pragmatist in the UMass Communication Department and the critical emphasis leans strongly toward the theoretical. Application to the real (not abstract) world receives rather short shrift. Perhaps I am a bit more European in style, as I conceptualize theory and practice as blended in actual experience. Where Professor Nowicki did nail me in my American-ness was with her characterization of American researchers of intercultural communication moving quickly to "giving advice." ☺ Uh oh!

At the end of the seminar on "Communication and its languages," I ventured to pose a question. The topics of the day reflected my skills and interests: from

• the ways human beings imitate each other in communication (taking on the body language or mannerisms of the other, as illustrated by Guy Bilodeau), to


• reframing the language of disability away from individual subjectivity to the environmental conditions that inhibit accessibility (as explained by Pirkko Mahlamäki), to the


• questions of power and distance raised by Juana Lahousse in her talk on the connections between written translation - i.e., translators - and science and knowledge).

Matters of power, distance, and the construction of knowledge are constitutive elements of simultaneous interpretation as a communication practice. The way these elements are handled by all participants in a simultaneously-interpreted communication event generate rituals which can be understood as cultural.

Participant-observation and a ritual view of communication:

In the spirit of participant-observation as a touchstone of my action research methodology, I asked if the idea I have makes any sense: Can we imagine simultaneous interpreting as a cultural practice that retains difference while creating a shared communication ritual, thus contributing to a sense of common identity? I mapped out two drafts in my notes before asking in order to be as clear and direct as possible. I considered that the interpreters would have no background on my wild notion and sought to chunk the components concisely. I was puzzled by the two responses I received. True to the dictates of the generally negative discourse about interpreting (shame on me!), my first thought involved some problem with the interpretation. The second thought was that I had transgressed - as an American outsider, I should have just kept my mouth shut. :-/ (Gauging the proper limits of social etiquette in specific instances has been a lifelong dilemma, alas!) As luck would have it, a few participants from the seminar approached me during the cocktail hour and I was able to inquire about their view.

Dialogue takes time

Aha! Of course - my formulation of identity, dialogue, and the role of language stated "identity" first, necessarily relegating "dialogue" to the background. I did not consider the cultural mediation necessary to convey "identity" as the minor objective contingent upon the major goal of "dialogue." Now, after the fact of the exchange, time joins the play. Professor Nowicki emphasized that the key to intercultural mediation (which she may have been using, at least sometimes, as a synonym for dialogue) is to maintain enough difference so as to keep interest, but not so much as to promote fear.

At the break, Lena, Mary Jo, Laura and I talked about this notion of emphasizing the relational - the links and connections between oneself and the other - as Professor Nowicki advises. We started speaking of the idea of a neutral descriptive language - wondering how such words look and feel, what they convey. Some illustrations were provided of words that offend by accident. These can be things one says simply as the word one knows while being unaware that the word has strong negative associations for others. "Comrade" used by west Germans with Germans of the former East Germany was one example. Laura relayed a story of a classmate from one of the Baltic countries rejecting writing on the chalkboard in red because "that's the color of communism." In such instances, I mused, is where the relational enters. Lena clarified with an aphorism:

Listening like a giraffe

A giraffe, goes the logic, has the largest heart of all animals on earth. Coyote (poor feller) got chosen by someone as the bad counterpart, the predator who scavenges for that which gives offense. If your heart is big enough, then you engage the relationship with the other. Even though offended, you take the time and put your energy toward not allowing the offense to define the interaction. Instead, you find another way to make a link, you find another way to pursue connection. I teased about being the one to lay that long neck out on the line . . . ! Meanwhile, listening like a hunter suggests the barbarian inside that Professor Nowicki mentioned. (Hopefully someone will provide me with the list of authors/titles so I can reference properly - and see if there are translations!)

This internal barbarian is one element of the "hot" European heart I touched with my question about identity. The shared history of Europeans with each other is not pretty, a fact still viscerally alive in the memories and consciousness of these people with whom I interact everyday as a relatively innocent American. The violences I have known are not the horrors of war; my insensitivity to the problematics of a common European identity got put on display. And yet . . . I defend the proposal, because constructing participation in simultaneous interpretation as a cultural communication practice is an activity that anticipates a shared identity in the future rather than seeking transformation in the roots of the past.

Anticipating the future

I agree wholeheartedly that I have no business meddling in the historical foundations of when, how, why and which Europeans become European. My own opinion is that engaging in those debates will keep the divisions real, rather than actually resolving them. (Which is not a full-blown endorsement for not talking about them either - it's rather that how the talking gets done matters more, in my view, than the contents of what actually gets said - at least in principle. Part of the how is that an outsider ought to steer fairly wide of the mark until invited. Unless ;-) one is an American culturally prone to giving advice!)

Speaking about the lessons and potentialities of simultaneous interpretation, however, is something I actually know a little bit about. So I hope (!) I'm not completely off my rocker suggesting that the kind of infrastructure of professional training and provision of quality services that exists for the American Deaf Community is an example of what could be created in Europe to address some of the complexities of intercultural mediation. This, afterall, is what simultaneous interpreters are professionally trained to do, and - going on the testimonies of everyone associated with simultaneous interpretation at the European Institutions, trained professionals actually do a mighty fine job of it.

I regret that I was unable to stay for the second half of Professor Nowicki's lecture, and missed Guy Bilodeau's session entirely. The primary subject of research calls. Snow began blowing shortly after the train began the journey to Brussels; it looks like it might stick. This quick first trip to Luxembourg was indeed unforgettable: from the pleasure of being allowed to attend, through all the intellectual stimulation, mutual curiosity ("Infiltration?" Me? Never!) and heartwarming hospitality. For the record, I do not believe for one minute that Clare has led a sheltered life!