Coughing up a lung

September 1, 2014 Al Denelsbeck

Once again courtesy of Not Exactly Rocket Science comes an article about a rather bizarre (to us at least) factor in the process of arthropod molting: apparently, they also shed the lining of their lungs while they’re at it.

Now, this is a little bit different from what we might imagine (yeah, like discarding your entire skin at once to emerge bigger is nothing odd.) Insects – and arachnids, and crustaceans, and so on, the whole class of Arthropoda – don’t have lungs anything like the mammals; instead, the vast majority of them have little holes along the sides of their thoraxes and abdomens, called spiracles, that feed air more directly into the tissues through tracheae (or tracheoles – I’m not sure which is proper,) as partially illustrated before. When molting, the entire lining of these passages is pulled out and discarded as well, interrupting their breathing for several minutes – according to the article, they increase their respiratory rate ahead of time, flooding their system with oxygen, then breathing halts during the molt, following which they start gulping air again. Not surprising, really. The respiratory rate on arthropods is typically pretty low anyway, which is why spiders can survive under water for extended periods solely on the air that clings to their bodies.

The image they used to illustrate this for the article wasn’t terribly enlightening, and I wondered if I had something more useful in my stock. I’d seen the little white threads left behind within the molted chitins, but always assumed they were tendons or something. I was in the process of checking out my arthropod stock images when I suddenly remembered: I did have access to a recently molted exoskeleton – one of the better types to use for such illustrative purposes, in fact.

Cicadas are a common insect at this time of year throughout the US, and as they emerge from a subterranean existence and molt into reproducing, flying adults, the wonderfully menacing brown skins left behind on treetrunks and fenceposts are often not hard to find. As molted exoskeletons go, they’re large, sturdy, and hardened into shape (one prolific year as I was growing up in central NY, I collected over a dozen in one session and perched them all on a styrofoam cooler on our porch, convincing my mother momentarily that we were being infested.) I had just spotted one the other day on our fence, so I trotted back outside and brought it in for a studio session.

I will pause here for moment to reflect on body shapes. The adult cicada doesn’t look very far removed from this, though the head is broader, but it’s easy to mistake it for something entirely different because of the wings, which stretch over twice the length of the body. The majestic clear membranes emerge entirely from those embarrassing little flaps seen here over the hindmost leg, unfolding and fleshing out in a matter of hours, making clown cars look feeble in comparison.

Despite the rigidity of the exoskeleton, it still took a bit of care to bifurcate it with a scalpel to reveal the interior. But once I had my cicada on the half-shell, the tracheoles were obvious white threads scattered within (the hematite stone in the background is just a bonus, what I had handy on my desk to prop up my subject.)

Curious to see if I could produce a better look, I soaked my subject in alcohol for a short while, knowing this is a good way to soften up chitin for a little flexibility. This kind of worked, but not as well as I’d hoped; while I could stand up the tracheoles for a little better detail, the alcohol turned them faintly translucent so the detail wasn’t as distinct as it could be.

I had no luck in trying to manipulate them to be sure, but what I think you’re seeing here is several branches clustered together; within the body, they would be split apart at the base and spreading out throughout the tissues for better oxygen distribution. These were a few millimeters in overall length, so it was hard enough to visually separate them, much less do so with the tip of a scalpel, possibly made worse by the alcohol causing them to cling together.

This made me remember some images, and questions, from a decade ago in Florida, when my brother and I had discovered the newly-molted chitin of a blue crab (Callinectes sapidus) – we knew it was recent because we also found the former occupant, still soft and very shy. Crustaceans, as odd as it might seem, are still arthropods, more closely related to terrestrial insects than to any aquatic neighbor. So here’s a look at the discarded exoskeleton, split open to show the interior – you’re seeing it from the left side, head towards the left of the frame.

The triangular brown mass extending from the bottom edge is one of the ‘lungs’ – the other is just barely visible edge-on at the top. I was familiar with this anatomy from having eaten crabs, but it seemed extremely peculiar that the lungs would be left behind with the molted skin; however, we had the former occupant right nearby so we were pretty sure this was not just a dead specimen. Now I know that they really do discard the lungs with the rest.

As to why this should occur, I can only begin to speculate. When developing as a fetus, nearly all species develop from a cluster of cells into a donut shape; the hole in the middle is the alimentary canal, what will become a digestive system. This does indeed make us, damn near everything really, a glorified tube. While the development of limbs from little nubs that sprout from this tube is well known, the development of the breathing apparatus takes on many forms, from the gill arches of fish to the elaborate lung systems of mammals. Somewhere in there, arthropods seem to have gotten their respiratory system closely enough linked with their exoskeleton that both are shed and developed anew with each stage of development. Weirder things happen, like the metamorphosis of many insects from pupa through chrysalis to winged adult, pretty much becoming little more than liquid in the process, but still…

Nothing escapes!

August 29, 2014 Al Denelsbeck

The other day while doing some work on the deck I spotted a tiny spider, only a few millimeters long, and as I observed it for a moment I got this freaky focus problem while looking at its dark eyes. Having seen this before, I captured it for a quick photo session.

This is a very young magnolia green jumping spider (Lyssomanes viridis,) notable in that it is one of the few species where you can see the ocular anatomy of jumping spiders in action, real time. I’ve covered this before, but in short, the two main eyes (anterior median) are specialized for jumping and tracking prey; while outwardly immobile, inside the cephalothorax the eyes can move independently, and because of the translucent chitin of the magnolia green jumper, this can be seen. It’s definitely a weird (but extremely cool) effect, made more bizarre by the lens throwing the retina at a different apparent focal distance than the rest of the spider, seeming to float further off in the depths.

My subject here is only half the size of the previous one and probably only a few weeks old. It was a struggle to try and get enough images, since the spider was (like most jumpers) a little hyperactive and somewhat shy, so either moving around enough to make focus difficult or dodging to the underside of the leaf. Not to mention that, at this magnification, the range of optimum focus is perhaps a millimeter in depth, so between my own body movement and that of the spider, the spider was out of focus more often than in, and I was endeavoring not to trip the shutter during those times. This may seem excessive, but I shot 86 frames, partially in trying to get a sequence of images as the eyes moved around. Many of them will be discarded, but I have enough to serve my purposes. I will, however, still be watching for a larger specimen, especially as we get towards egg laying time.

This image is cool because the strobe was at the right angle to produce a reflection from the one eye while showing the retina in the other – you can also see how most of the legs were out of focus, despite this being shot at f16. These spiders are so cool I’m strongly considering setting up a few in a terrarium, maintaining them with fruit flies while they reach adulthood. I guess I probably shouldn’t have released this one…

While I wanted a little more eye motion than I managed to capture, I still couldn’t resist making an animated gif from a rapid sequence that I’d fired off – the actual frames I got were spaced slightly farther apart in timing than what appears here, but not significantly. The slight change in perspective is strictly my own movement; I’m lucky to have kept focus while doing so. And yes, I’ve talked about the difficulties in using a tripod for stuff like this – it just ain’t gonna happen.

But hey, while we’re on the subject, I’ll tell you what I did in this case, which is what I often do. A leaf was set up in a small clamp attached to a stand, and placed on the tabletop on the porch. This brought the spider up to a decent working height, and I was able to brace my forearms against the table and limit the amount of twitching that might take place. When the spider wandered around, I was often able to just lean a little and re-obtain focus (maintaining it while the spider moved wasn’t likely to happen, but being able to lock back on when the spider paused wasn’t too difficult.) At times, I had to readjust the leaf angle and position, something the clamp rig assisted with significantly, and could flip the leaf over to chase the spider back on top as needed. It’s little things like this that can make the pursuit a bit less frustrating.

* * * *

Okay, it’s almost certainly not true that nothing escapes my attention – there’s actually no way I could tally what does. But I feel safe in saying that, from doing this so long, I probably spot a few more things than the ‘average person’ would – whoever that is…

Who are we learning about?

August 28, 2014 Al Denelsbeck

Among the many, many reminisces following the recent death of actor-comedian Robin Williams – some in honest tribute, some in shameless opportunism – we can find the video of his meeting with Koko, the female lowland gorilla who is famous for communicating by sign language; we also have the reports from the Gorilla Foundation, her caretakers, that when told about his death, Koko was distinctly sad over the news. From a scientific standpoint, however, we really can’t be sure of this. Courtesy of Not Exactly Rocket Science, we have Jane C. Hu’s article on Slate that discusses a lot of the difficulty with the conclusions and even the research methods of the Foundation.

This isn’t a new finding, either – the skepticism over the claims of Koko’s abilities have been around for a long time, and far too much of the purported findings look like the same kind of uncritical enthusiasm once expressed over facilitated communication, a method of using a human go-between to help functionally impaired children to communicate effectively. In facilitated communication, an adult, often a parent, would interact with a paraplegic child – by holding hands, for example – and interpret the child’s infinitesimal motions as the attempt to type onto a special symbolic keyboard, thereby producing a coherent message from someone who otherwise had no recognizable forms of communication. The problem is not knowing whether there really are distinct motions that the children make towards certain keys, or whether the adults themselves are introducing their own bias and, in effect, answering ‘for’ the child, much like an Ouija board uses the ideomotor effect to produce a message, not from spirits, but from subconscious movements of the participants (you’d think the spirits could move the planchette pointer without human intervention, and of course, we have myriad ways of detecting even nerve impulses that never produce motor functions much better than having to have an adult ‘feel’ the efforts from a disabled child.) And from numerous reports, it seems the case with Koko is more creative interpretation than her ability to communicate in a near-human manner, much less actually master a ‘language.’

A lot of this requires dismissing the human bias and trying to see it all from an uncluttered perspective. There is a radical difference between using any form of language and performing a function of cause-and-effect conditioning. A rat that presses a button to receive food is generally considered to have learned this through trial and error, and many species have this kind of cognitive learning ability. Putting a symbol on the button is an added step, as is then putting that symbol among many others in a group of buttons and only rewarding the rat when it presses the correct symbol; this does not mean the rat is now using that symbol as meaning, “food,” even though at a base level the correlation is likely present. For it to be differentiated, the rat (or any other species) would have to be able to use the symbols in an abstract manner far outside of simple associations, perhaps communicating something along the lines of “today’s food bad; yesterday’s food good.” This is what we consider language, and it applies as well to stringing together a selection of sign language symbols. The Slate article points this out in a distinctive way: does Washoe the chimpanzee signing water bird when she saw a swan indicate that she has created a new term, differentiating a ‘water bird’ from a ‘tree bird’ or ‘land bird,’ or is it simply a stream-of-consciousness type of response, giving the sign for ‘water’ when she saw it, followed by the sign for ‘bird’ when she saw that, both stemming from conditioning to associate a subject with a hand motion?

[We do this too, more than we tend to think: very often, we say, “Bless you,” when someone sneezes, never bothering to think about why someone with a nasal irritation deserves this special attention, nor whether we even have such power. But boy howdy, watch how some people get uptight when you fail to perform this pointless, conditioned response. And then there’s The Oatmeal’s take on it.]

There’s also the huge difference between language and communication, which can be performed with minor vocalizations, facial expression, body posture, or the erection of fur or feathers. Many species communicate in one way or another, from schools of fish reading the movements of their immediate neighbors to even plants releasing chemical responses to pests. So what studies are looking for is not that, but the distinction that separates language from communication, humans from all other species: the ability to express discrete, coherent abstracts. This would demonstrate that another species might even use such concepts, of which there is very little indication. And that naturally raises the question of why this might be – why us and no other species? What are the key differences?

One speculation is that the limiting factor is anatomy, specifically the larynx and tongues; this has some supporting evidence in that human children can master sign language much faster than speech. This indicates that infants’ delay in speaking is not entirely due to understanding abstracts or even assigning labels, but the difficulties of manipulating tongue and vocal cords. If apes possessed the mental ability to handle abstracts and used no language only because of the limits of anatomy, an alternate method of communication might demonstrate this readily. Yet, we’re well past the point where this could have been established firmly, without the results that we should expect if it were true.

Lowland gorilla — Not Koko – just a gorilla pic I had

In the middle of all this sits the urge, all too often, to consider that using language makes humans ‘higher’ than other species, more evolved or more successful, which is unwarranted and mostly ego talking. Any species that survives is successful enough, and we ourselves remain in a constant battle with mere bacteria and viruses. Gorillas might have never developed the traits to use language because those traits, appearing spontaneously within individuals through mutation and genetic drift, never produced a significant advantage and thus never spread throughout the species. Language is clearly a social benefit, requiring a highly-interactive species to produce a significant advantage, and gorillas fall lower on that scale than, for instance, sardines. They are not predators which could gain an advantage from coordinating in packs to obtain their food, and the niche that they inhabit is largely free from serious hazards – except, ironically, for humans. In short, they don’t need language, and thus are highly unlikely to have either the necessary thinking structure, the desire to engage in it, nor any function to put it to. And the results have primarily supported this: despite decades of using the language, Koko (and others like her) have demonstrated no marked increase in abilities, understanding, or function, no exploitable advantages, and in fact, might arguably be said to be functioning less optimally, relying far too much on the environment of the research centers to indulge themselves while not even expressing their thoughts and desires to notable advantage. Even though we are told that Koko wants a baby and has even selected a mate through a form of video dating service, this event has not come to pass and, due to her advanced age, is now unlikely to.

Further indication of how untrustworthy the various claims of communication are is how loosely the research appears to be run. Instead of dispassionate observation, the caregivers, first among them Penny (Francine) Patterson, are deeply interactive and openly interpretive, accepting, rejecting, and translating the various sign language missives from their subjects. Unedited, the transcripts of signs from Koko bear little relation to what it is claimed she is saying, and in an especially questionable exchange, Patterson has claimed that Koko’s signing of nipple is actually intended to mean people (and this is not the first time I’ve heard this account.) Aside from the obvious problems with this, we have to remember that Koko is signing, which negates anything resembling rhyming entirely, and presumably the signs she’s been taught for these two concepts have no similarity in structure. Not to mention that if she knew this language and actually meant people, this would be a far more often used sign and one that she should easily be capable of using appropriately. Even if we allow for the possibility that Patterson intentionally mistranslated to hide Koko’s indelicate interest (at least to humans) in seeing nipples, as intimated by the article, this still indicates that Koko was not answering the inquiries at all. The resemblance to a solid research project is tenuous at best.

Slate‘s article goes deeper into the Gorilla Foundation’s activity and history, getting away from the initial subject and raising some serious questions about how well the program is being run. Admittedly, most of this is hearsay due to few former employees going on the record, denied permission through non-disclosure agreements, so drawing conclusions is unwarranted – though the numbers of disgruntled workers isn’t a very good sign at all. But what is apparent is how much effort is put into promotion and media attention, which raises some interesting questions on its own – ones that go much farther than the Gorilla Foundation or even the concept of teaching apes how to use language.

Funding for scientific endeavors is a tricky thing. It usually comes in the form of grants, which can be (and usually are) quite capricious in nature – most areas of potential research sit unexamined because of a lack of funding or patronage. So another avenue to obtain funding is through the public, and there are few topics that can spark enough interest to generate a significant, sustainable level of funding; animals are probably the most prominent (followed by, in no order, childhood diseases and cancer research.) So there is a significant incentive to make animal-related research studies very prominent, or to create a public appeal offshoot that brings in funding on its own; most zoos use this model, where the income from captive display animals is partially directed towards endangered species breeding programs and wildlife research. Others, like the Gorilla Foundation, expend a lot of effort into making their research as public-oriented as possible.

The ethics of this can be debated ad nauseum (and are,) partially because ethics isn’t defined well enough to get everyone onto the same page – I’m not going to get into that here, since that’s worth about 5,000 words in itself. More to the point, the danger of a public-funding model is that it requires constant interest, and thus a lot of effort put into wooing the media and providing fresh content. Now, most scientific studies don’t make for interesting articles, much less TV spots, and even less so when there’s little progress being made. The nature of science is that not every avenue of research is going to produce positive results, and many that do are in the future expansion, speculate-on-potential-impact variety – this isn’t ‘news.’ So the incentive to over-promote, hype, and even generate not-entirely-accurate reports of progress is also present, and where the dividing line sits in such situations is never particularly clear.

This appears to be where most of the ape language field falls: a tiny handful of test subjects yielding sporadic results wide open to interpretation, without any serious progress being made. While, “Koko wants a baby,” and, “She’s sad over the passing of Robin Williams,” generate a lot of public interest, from a scientific standpoint they have virtually no value, even if the efforts had been made to verify that these communiqués were accurate, which is far from apparent. Any study funded by the typical grant process would not have gone on for the decades that these have, partially because the controls are not in place to determine if the claimed results are solid, and mostly because the results, even as reported, are fairly thin. There remains a lot to be learned about the cognitive processes of apes, and indeed any species, but to do this accurately, the process must be rigorous, objective, and above all, independently confirmed.

* * * * *

I have just a minor annoyance to express here. Despite the ridiculous number of articles on Koko and the Gorilla Foundation that can be located, and the repetition that Koko is an endangered species, not one source that I found confirmed which species Koko actually is, among only four likely candidates – I was therefore unable to provide this myself. Such a simple detail, but apparently far beyond mass media’s capabilities.

I’m not the only one who’s weird

August 21, 2014 Al Denelsbeck

Courtesy of Jim over at the Kansas branch of the blog comes this shot, taken while I have been trying to locate any resident mantis here for the last two weeks. I’m going to assume this is also a Chinese mantis (Tenodera aridifolia sinensis) having captured a white-lined sphinx moth (Hyles lineata.) Moth and butterflies are notorious for losing both wing scales and body ‘fur’ when captured, often liberally coating their predators as seen here. It’s easy to tell this was a night shot by the dark eyes of the mantis, and the fact that sphinx moths are largely nocturnal. What’s not easy to tell is how big both of these are – sphinx moths are among the largest in North America, and this is the final instar, or reproducing adult phase, of the mantis. That means the frame of this image probably spans more than 8 cm, with the mantis running somewhere in the vicinity of 10-13cm in body length, and the wingspan of the moth around 6-9 cm.

I, meanwhile, went in the opposite direction yesterday. On what I’m pretty sure is a pokeweed plant (Phytolacca americana, the subject of the dried berry images here,) I went in close to photograph the stage where the berries are starting to develop from the fertilized blossoms – which is encouraging, since I’ve been seeing too few pollinators in this yard. After unloading the memory card, I noticed something that wasn’t visible to me when I took the frames, so I had to go back out and do some more detail shots. In my defense, the entire flower is 7mm across petal to petal, about the diameter of a standard pencil, so you can judge the size of the occupant yourself.

This is a crab spider, family Thomisidae, likely genus Mecaphesa based on the guide found on this page – beyond that I can’t say, since this is likely a juvenile and the coloration of even adults can vary significantly. But let’s get a little bit closer look.

It was cooperative enough to give me a couple of different poses, I’m guessing to show off that lovely blue eye shadow – obviously trying to look older than it really is, so I’m guessing this is late adolescence, which would make it more mature than Republicans in this country. But that isn’t saying much.

I need to find a different flash bracket; it doesn’t matter which side I decide to mount the strobe on, it ends up being the wrong side for a particular subject soon after, and switching isn’t easy. I have the ability to mount two strobes simultaneously and could switch power between them, but that would be even bulkier (something I’d rather reduce right now) and considerably more difficult to handle. The ability to swap the strobe left for right in a pinch would be ideal. Stay tuned; I’ll work this out eventually.

When I tried to slip my finger behind the flower for a scale shot, the spider panicked and dropped off the petal, dangling beneath from a strand of web. I grabbed this and lifted the spider back over the flowers to try and redeposit it in place, and it scampered back up the web to run across my fingers. Here it paused in the foothills where my fingerprints gave way to the coastal plain of the back of my hand.

Soon afterward, I coaxed it back onto the flowers and will be watching for it later on. Maybe it’ll serve as the test subject for my new flash bracket setup soon.

So real

August 16, 2014 Al Denelsbeck

I don’t know how often this happens to other photographers, but every once in a while, as I’m sorting photos, I spot something that I didn’t see when I was taking them. Now, I don’t think I can really be blamed for this one, since this is a tight crop of only a small portion of the frame, which would have appeared much smaller than this in the viewfinder. But you have to admit it’s an interesting effect.

I’m biased, since I know what the subject is, so have a go and see if you can figure it out before proceeding below – I’m pretty sure there are enough details to eventually figure it out. Maybe very quickly – who knows?

So, at the botanical garden, an enterprising frog had deposited a collection of eggs, which were trapped between a partially submerged lily pad and the surface, actually protruding from the water a little bit. The water surface, curved across the tops of the eggs, was reflecting the surroundings, which mostly included the various arching stems of the water plants, in a distorted funhouse-mirror way. The deeply hazy skies produced more reflections from the water than bright sunlight would have, a common trait that can seriously alter how the water appears in photographs (if you’re after aquatic subjects, go for the brilliantly sunny days,) while thew dark circular background of the eggs highlighted specific portions of the reflections. The shapes that aren’t lines or curves are me, looming overhead – I’m sure you recognized my dashing profile.

Underlying

August 15, 2014 Al Denelsbeck

As you may have been told in high school, many great works of literature and filmmaking are actually metaphors, using familiar characters and situations to represent deeper, more nuanced abstract ideas. The reasoning behind this is obvious: even small stories, seemingly inconsequential events, are part of an overriding narrative and purpose, reflecting in their nature that everything we experience is a moral lesson intended for our interpretation. To demonstrate this, I’d like to show how one of the modern film classics, Raising Arizona, uses its elements to communicate an important ethical lesson.

The overall plot is simple. A former petty criminal named H.I., and his police officer wife Ed (short for Edwina – let’s not get confused over the moral lesson of this film) find themselves unable to bear children, despite their fervent desire to have a family. They soon discover than an affluent businessman of the area, Nathan Arizona, has recently (with the apparent help of his wife) had quintuplets. H.I. and Ed’s reasoning is, five children is more than any couple can be expected to handle, and it isn’t fair that they themselves cannot have any, and thus they conspire to kidnap one of the quintuplets to raise as their own. All of this is explained before the opening credits, and the remaining movie involves their desperate attempts to retain the child.

They face three obstacles to this goal: Gale and Evelle, two of H.I.’s former inmates (both male – see above); H.I.’s boss Glen and his wife Dot, no longer able to bear children themselves; and a bounty hunter named Leonard Smalls. Notable here is that law enforcement, while appearing within the movie, is never a serious obstacle, and mostly serves as a comic foil to propel the plot.

H.I. and Ed represent America’s Welfare Class. Ed, disappointed over her inability to produce a child, resigns the police force, unwilling to work for her dreams if they are not immediately achievable. H.I., a supposedly reformed criminal, soon turns back to crime because his own employment does not keep him in the wealthy state he feels he deserves. They both take freely from those who have more than they, in this case represented by the baby, Nathan (“Nation”) Junior, depriving the Arizonas of the very family they worked hard to build. But as the plot unfolds, it becomes clear that H.I and Ed are not responsible enough to handle even this small token. We cannot feel sympathy for their plight, since it exists solely through their own efforts.

Gale and Evelle, escaped convicts, represent the failed liberal expectations of our criminal justice system – instead of being reformed by their sentencing, they (notably of the same class as H.I. himself,) subvert it, leave the system, and return to criminal activity. They attempt to recruit H.I for their planned crimes, but note that H.I. is guilty of a much bigger one than they had planned, and soon escalate to the same level of criminal activity. Their plans, however, are to ransom a young “Nation” for the reward, holding our culture hostage to its idyllic “high road” approach, another liberal invention – return our nation and its postwar values to us, and we will reward you, no questions asked. The failures of this approach need no explanation. Note, too, that even as they hold the nation in their hands, Gale and Evelle cannot maintain the simplest of responsibilities, abandoning him/it in pursuit of their former goals – not even content with the impending reward. The message is clear: every inch permitted towards the criminal classes, in the guise of reform, understanding, or proffered respect, only brings us further astray.

H.I.’s boss Glen and his wife represent consumerism. While having a healthy family of their own, they have found themselves deprived of the ability to produce more, and all of their children are beyond the age of “cuddling,” or the immediate gratification of base emotions. Despite knowing the truth about Nathan/the nation, instead of making any efforts to put things right through the obvious, proper channels, they seek to exploit it for their own gain, short-lived as it has always proven to be. Their moral fiber is also demonstrated by the admission that they’re “swingers,” unwilling to settle for the proven stability of monogamous family life and pursing hedonism and sexually-transmitted disease. Glen displays a shallow, bigoted demeanor, while Dot exemplifies the emotional switchback of the dissatisfied suburban, both communicating how badly family values deteriorate in pursuit of short-term gratification.

Nathan Arizona Senior, the father of the child, is the only character in the movie that appears to make no bad decisions, and in fact is not visibly brimming with incompetence and self-absorption. He represents the concept of the blue-collar workers, the primary workforce of the country – competent to a useful degree but, as we are about to see, potentially dangerous when this competence is thought to extend farther than it should.

The bounty-hunter, Leonard Smalls, represents industrialism. Despite his outward ugliness, he is the only one who proves capable of locating the missing child. He approaches Nathan Arizona Senior with his services, but seeks fair-market compensation for his abilities – Arizona, however, does not feel obligated to conform to a free-market system and instead tries to have Smalls arrested, an attempt to use regulation (in the form of the police) to force his own advantage. Notably, Smalls still achieves his goal, locating the child and, through his efforts, seeing to it that Nathan/the nation gets back where it belongs. This occurs even as H.I. destroys Smalls with his own trade tools, showing that industrialization can achieve great things for this country despite the attempts of others to cripple it.

The message is plain: we have tried-and-true systems of prosperity and stability in this nation of ours, and they will see us through the chaos of short-sighted social programs and indulgent attitudes.

* * * * *

All right, all of that above was just so much horseshit, a superficial interpretation of story elements worthy only of a rank amateur. Industrialization and the blue-collar worker as antagonistic elements, indeed! Raising Arizona is obviously not a Tea-Party Conservative’s message against the lurking liberal demon, but an insightful commentary on gender expectations.

Gender names and roles are freely mixed among nearly all of the players. This is especially true of Edwina, the female protagonist, whose name is usually shortened to “Ed.” She is not only the primary breadwinner of the family, she is the decision-maker, even vetoing all of her husband’s decisions. This would gain little attention if it weren’t for the emphasis on the postwar-era family and household; the attitudes are remarkably old-fashioned, but the gender roles have reversed. This classic home sits in a barren desert, visibly distanced from the welcoming town that one would expect – there is no village of like-minded people. Even more telling, once Ed is convinced that she needs to assume the socially-dictated role of motherhood, the whole structure begins to fall apart.

H.I.’s adoption of the caregiver role repeatedly comes under fire, literally, from just about everyone he meets. Pressured to provide for his child, he encounters a pimply-faced adolescent in a convenience store, reading a “Juggs” magazine and brandishing an enormously phallic pistol – I hope I do not have to point out that this is intended to represent Common Society. Common Society and Authority (in the guise of law enforcement) are soon pursuing H.I. and using deadly force, all out of proportion for H.I.’s ‘crimes’ – diapers are even shot from his hands, hammering home the attitude of loathing for the househusband. Later on, as Ed tells H.I. that this just isn’t normal family life, H.I. replies, “Well, it ain’t Ozzie and Harriet,” as he retrieves the same diapers; we’re made aware that the impression of the idyllic 1950s suburban family contrasts sharply with the dedicated caregiver who perseveres in the face of social expectations.

Gale and Evelle represent the concept of the closeted homosexual, ‘imprisoned’ by society’s expectations. Their jailbreak is an act of frustration and defiance, and the heist of the farmers’ bank represents their desires to undermine the ancient, rural attitudes towards sexuality – in fact, everyone they encounter is stereotypically ‘country.’ Much of what they do is colored by dramatic displays of masculinity, including a clumsy and unconvincing reference to Ed’s breasts, but in a revealing scene, their attention to personal grooming proves to be their downfall, as the bounty hunter ‘tracks’ them by their styling gel; no façade is foolproof.

Also notable is their care of the infant, which is tender and thoughtful as long as they do not fulfill their dictated gender roles. Whenever they are called upon to act more masculine, however, the child is literally forgotten, a bleak commentary on how our society views child care as only a feminine pursuit. It is no coincidence that, immediately upon recognizing how damaging it is to accept this social stigma, the dye packet paints them a brilliant baby blue, a color both masculine and feminine, and thereafter they openly admit their mistakes and accept their true nature.

Of special note is Leonard Smalls, and one is forced to imagine the teasing such a name would garner in a typical school brimming with ill-handled gender issues. The first thing we discover about him is the “Momma didn’t love me” tattoo, giving us the cause of his ungroomed, antisocial appearance. Among his first words are the claim that he has no friends, an undisguised cry for help that falls on Nathan Arizona Sr’s unsympathetic ears. Arizona represents the American Father Figure here, unable to tell his sons apart nor even what they were wearing, dedicated more to the welfare of his business than his children. Smalls naturally comes to a gruesome end in a secondary moral lesson, telling us where poor parenting will lead, immediately after we discover a connection between Smalls and H.I. in the form of an identical tattoo (this one of a roadrunner.) Smalls had earlier hinted that he was sold on the black market as an infant, and we learn nothing at all of H.I.’s parents – I’ll leave you to draw your own conclusions.

There are several other curious elements waiting to be grasped. H.I. takes over dealing with Smalls from Ed, despite her law enforcement training and parental dedication, an act that batters him mercilessly. The dogs that are unleashed against H.I., obviously another representative of the displeasure of authority, do not actually harm or even hamper H.I., instead terrorizing the suburban housewife doing her shopping, telling us where unbridled protectionism can lead. And we witness the transformation of Dr. Spock’s child care book, obtained to guide the new parents, returned battered, burned, and discolored by blue dye yet still intact; the core values of parenting lasting through whatever drama unfolds.

Thus we find Raising Arizona to be a prescient tale about gender roles and social upheaval, telling us that the turmoil over issues such as same-sex marriage and parenting (that we are seeing right now in this country) will still resolve effectively in the end.

* * * * *

Okay, hopefully you didn’t take that too seriously, since Raising Arizona does not actually deal with cultural expectations of gender, but rather serves as pointed commentary over literature in the late 20th century.

Note that the young parents (new authors,) determined to follow in the footsteps of others, are unable to produce a baby of their own; the child, of course, represents fresh, original ideas, and so we see them stealing one from those who have, as it’s rationalized, “more than they need.” Nathan Arizona Sr represents popular, established authors, cranking out near-identical plotlines in response to mass-audience approval, and so spurring new authors to try and mimic the success.

Glen and Dot stand in for unscrupulous publishing companies, producing unremarkable ‘children’ without any concerns over quality or originality. They offer the new authors a contract of questionable ethics, and when rejected, attempt to pressure them into selling out or giving up their story idea. Dot’s enthusiasm over the ‘child,’ closely followed by rattling off all of the supposedly necessary facets of new parents/authors, is a mantra many aspiring writers are all too familiar with.

Gale and Evelle represent the independent publishing methods such as vanity publishing and e-books, ‘breaking out’ of the established procedures and promising quick returns with little investment. In pursuit of these returns, the ‘child’ is forgotten, showing how shortsightedness damages the quality of literature by linking it to capital gains; the goal is the money, rather than producing a lasting piece of art.

Smalls, it should come as no surprise, represents the legal system. Claiming to be motivated with recovering the popular author’s intellectual property, Smalls is concerned instead with how much profit he can produce for himself. The story is not considered a product of the author’s efforts, but only a commodity that can be traded and sold by whoever possesses it at the time; the race to publish, and thus be considered the source of a new original story idea, is a common one in publishing circles, as it is in the motion picture industry.

In the end, the system holds up. The stolen intellectual property is returned, and both the independent publishing methods and the unwieldy legal system are thwarted; the new authors, defeated by the specter of easy rewards, are still encouraged to produce their own original works, as it should be. There’s a level of forgiveness that is typically not found in other fields, a tale of honest rehabilitation rather than the base vindictiveness that so often passes for justice in our society. It’s a lesson we could all stand to learn.

* * * * *

All right, I doubt anyone was taken in by any of that, or at least not for very long, but was there a point? Yes, and it’s this: you can find any element you like and create a ‘real’ metaphorical rationale behind it, especially by being selective over which elements contribute and which are ignored wholesale. But this doesn’t mean that it’s accurate in the slightest, or was intended by the originator.

The pursuit of deeper meaning is a common one in literary circles, and it might even be considered how literature is even defined. And it’s true, some writers actually intend such things to be in place; far fewer than are claimed by any number of literati, however. While Raising Arizona may have its own collection of metaphorical intentions – whether Smalls is a figment of H.I.’s guilty imagination, for instance, and if so, what effect this has on the entire storyline – without the admission of the writers, such claims are only speculative.

It’s an interesting game of ego. Discovering the real meaning, finding the little secret that eludes everyone else, is of course an indication of superior intellect – provided that it’s accurate. In each of the cases above, all I did was decide on an underlying meaning based on just one potential match, and the rest were made (albeit with varying degrees of force) to fit this meaning. You might have caught that I praised Nathan Arizona for his lack of self-absorption in the first interpretation, and lambasted him as oblivious in the second; both of these interpretations have supporting details within the movie, so it all depends on which variation you select for (much like how most people use scripture.) Open interpretations might actually provide some greater enjoyment to the viewer, believing that some work has a more profound meaning than its apparent surface appearance, and there’s nothing inherently wrong with that. But if it extends to making the viewer feel like they’ve surpassed most others with their perspicacity, it probably should be determined, in some way, whether this is even remotely warranted or not. Only the original writer can tell us if the metaphor is present or intended – all else is unprovable supposition.

It’s all good for something

August 13, 2014August 13, 2014 Al Denelsbeck

I mentioned in the previous post that I went someplace that I was going to feature here shortly; this is not the time. Since then, I did a short side trip and got a bunch of shots that I’m bumping ahead of those, because I want to, so there.

[Actually, I’ve been trying to sort through stacks of images, because I’m way behind on cataloging and have been trying to be conscientious or businesslike or something of that nature, but these deserved a post, so…]

The past few days have been very wet here, with rain appearing sporadically throughout the days and nights without any clearing, turning much of the area downright boggy but at least keeping the sweltering temperatures away. Knowing how these conditions tended to be favored by frogs, I popped down to the pond nearby and checked out the wetlands end of it. I can find no mention of any name for this, so I’ve taken to calling it Ederia Pond – you’ll see why if you’re alert.

The photo here was taken on an earlier visit when the light was a bit better – this day, it was solid overcast but not raining at the time. While they make various rain covers and splash guards for cameras, and some of the professional models advertise weather sealing, I have to recommend against using any camera (save for dedicated underwater models) in the rain; the humidity is just too pervasive, the electronics in any camera manufactured in the last thirty years too susceptible, not to mention the lenses. I carry disposable rain ponchos in the camera bags, big enough to cover me and the bags when a sudden downpour hits, but even then, I empty out everything when I get back to dry conditions and make sure no humidity has a chance to be retained. A wet bag can drive moisture into the equipment within easily, and that can be an expensive repair.

There was a patch of pickerelweed that was my prime target, and I waded in slowly, looking carefully for photo opportunities. It didn’t take a lot of effort. As suspected, the green treefrogs (Hyla cinerea) were enjoying the dripping, cooler, overcast conditions. Their skin must remain moist, so they typically find deep shade during the day, often near something that retains water, and maintain their primary activity at night, but in the right conditions they’ll remain visible during daylight.

None of them were calling, and there was practically no activity until they deemed I was too close, but they were pretty easy to spot, and I saw dozens. Most were quite small, about half adult size or smaller, and a few sported the last vestiges of their tadpole tails, obviously this spring’s brood. While adults can get up to 5 or 6 centimeters, the average size is about 3, and the ones I was seeing typically ran 1 to 2 cm in body length. The longitudinal white stripe is a distinctive identifier, but in the right light, they gain a faint iridescence and a hint of gold in the white. As treefrogs, they have excellent adhesion to just about any surface and prefer to be vertical, usually selecting something as close to their body color as possible to perch upon – this means, when you’re out looking for them, you aim for the plants with the brightest green, preferably big leaves in or around water – pickerelweed (Pontederia) is thus ideal.

You’re going to see two different kinds of light quality in these images, as I switched back and forth between natural light and flash. I preferred natural light for the hue and the way the backgrounds remained lit the same as my subjects, but under heavy overcast and shooting handheld, I could only use maximum aperture lest the shutter speed drop too low to keep anything sharp. A tripod was out of the question – I was knee-deep in water most of the time over a silty bottom that had a tendency to try and steal my sandals, and the water plants were thick enough that I had enough trouble even finding a decent angle to shoot from without anything in the way.

This is natural light, and you can see how short the effective focus is. The colors are pleasant and soft, and the background indicates accurate conditions, but if you want more body details you’re out of luck.

Now I’m going to pause here for a bit of interesting trivia before moving on. This is the same image cropped down to see the eye detail. You can’t quite make out the camera and I, due to the light being at my back as I aimed downwards, but you can see the flash on the bracket arm to the left, as well as plenty of other leaves surrounding me. These were typical conditions, and even leaning close for many of these shots meant I was disturbing stems and leaves which could send warning signals to the frogs. Progress was glacially slow, but that was okay, since I was surrounded by subjects.

Using the flash typically increased contrast and, while bringing out the rich colors that green treefrogs have, often caused the background to drop into darkness and make many images appear to be taken at night. Since these are primarily nocturnal species anyway, this wasn’t as big a deal as if I was chasing dragonflies, for instance, so I didn’t worry about it too much. A softbox and/or an additional flash would have produced better results, but it was difficult enough preventing the one strobe from being blocked by leaves nearby. Here’s a good example of the difference – different subject, same pose (which you’re going to see again since it is the position treefrogs adopt when thinking the photographer is getting too close and they should probably find an avenue of escape.)

While the body details are much sharper at f16 (as compared to f4 in the natural light frame above) and the colors really glow now, the contrast is a bit unnatural-looking and the background becomes darker. Like I said, another strobe would have been useful, but unwieldy and likely blocked by leaves too often, throwing odd shadows across the subject or background. Sometimes obtaining the best results can require a lot of fiddling around – remember that every time you see a perfect nature photo. Looking natural or vivid often isn’t as effortless as it might seem.

Naturally, the treefrogs weren’t the only subject I chased while down there, and if you think I can go three days without photographing a spider, you haven’t read very far into this blog. The six-spotted fishing spider (Dolomedes triton) above wasn’t quite big enough to spread across my palm, but close. He’d seen me coming and sought refuge under the leaf, but I poked a finger underneath and flushed him back on top again. This might seem like I was inviting a bite, but I’ll say it again: spiders are shy, and typically avoid any kind of contact. The Eastern pondhawk (Erythemis simplicicollis) at right, meanwhile, not only didn’t care much about my presence, it almost seemed to follow me around – likely, I was seeing multiple dragonflies instead of the same one. I also shot a few tiny little damselflies and a remarkably colorful grasshopper of some sort, which I may feature a little later on.

And if you noticed the difference in pronouns above, yes, I know the spider is a male, while I don’t know what gender the dragonfly is. The spider’s club-ended pedipalps are just barely visible, but the abdomen being much smaller than the cephalothroax is also a clue, especially in an adult this size. Note, too, the shadow falling across the leaf behind the spider – this was caused by a stem blocking the flash unit where it sat to the left of the camera body on a bracket arm. On-camera flash is boring and flat looking, but in tight conditions, brackets come with their own problems.

Back to the frogs.

This minuscule specimen held still for quite a while, not only allowing me to keep creeping closer but also playing host to the fly on its head, likely some kind of parasite – it’s about the size of a mosquito but the wrong body shape. What I like most about it, though, is the single toe from the hind leg peeking past the stem near its back. If you think the color here is cool, just wait.

Had the sun peeked out suddenly, I might have been able to spot more examples like this, but it would have chased all of the frogs under cover quickly, so my window of opportunity would have been brief. Maybe I can capture some more examples of this right at sunrise some day – the last time I tried to catch sunrise at this pond, the day broke overcast for the first time in weeks – this was during the drought before the latest patch of downpours came along.

I had actually planned a little bonus for this post, in that I returned to the pond after nightfall and recorded some of the frogs’ calls – they’re pretty bizarre sounding, and I got within a meter of one while calling. The problem is, my digital recorder doesn’t pick up ambient sound very well so I have to use the ancient tape recorder, and at present I can’t locate the adapter cords I need to patch it into the computer’s sound recorder and reproduce it digitally. From time to time I think I should get a decent wildlife audio recording system (as well as branching into video,) but right now the nonexistent demand isn’t justifying the expense. I’ll put it up here eventually, but wasted too much time searching and got fed up.

I’ll close with perhaps the cutest image, where the strobe had the best effect…

This little spud is about a centimeter long and still sports a nubby little tail. I had initially thought it looked similar to images I’d captured a few years before, but on examination, they don’t appear to be the same species.

Just remember, when chasing nature images, every set of conditions is ideal for something. If you’re worried about keeping clean, dry, or at a comfortable temperature, you’re liable to miss out on a lot. I came back dripping sweat, with damp, filthy shorts and a sandal that the mud had nearly sucked the sole clean off of, and a large collection of images to add to my stock. That’s more than a fair trade, I think.

UPDATE: I found the adapter cord I needed, and have created a sound file of the calls of the green treefrog. I give fair warning: this is still not an ideal recording unit, and the cacophony of background noise may be unsettling. For the latter call, I was within a meter of the treefrog.

Unseen benefits

August 10, 2014 Al Denelsbeck

First off, I’m going to mention my long absence and the faintly amusing bit about it. I was traveling, one of the few chances I’ve gotten recently, which would be enough to explain the period without posts – except that, I’d prepared a bunch ahead of time and scheduled them to appear while I was away. The dry period occurred after I came back, when I wasn’t motivated by any topic to get something new up. The trip didn’t involve much postable stuff either, and you’re looking at the sum total of images I took that fit into my typical stock (well, that’s not true, since I have several variations of this, but nothing of other subjects.)

Then, before I could get this post where I wanted it, we had a friend over for a few days, resulting in going somewhere else that will be featured shortly – I’m trying to be good and finish this one. Also add a lot of rain into the mix, so photography has been very haphazard.

Getting back to regular content, however, this is going to be a follow-up to the earlier post about structured skepticism, or applied critical thinking if you like. I actually shifted approach and tone from the original draft so as to (I like to think) address the topic better.

To begin with, it’s not like anyone needs encouragement to engage in critical thinking; the alternative is, what? Ambiguous thinking? Emotional reactions? Random acts? Most people believe the majority of their cognitive processes are involved in rational, critical decision-making – the ‘thinking brain’ controls the ’emotional brain,’ and most of what we do is reasoned. Moreover, that the interpretations of the input from our senses is accurate and dependable. Unfortunately, neither of these hold true all that often. So the key question isn’t, “Should I engage in critical thinking?” but, “Am I using critical thinking often enough?” And for that matter, even asking the question is a start that it seems too few people reach.

It’s not hard to look around ourselves and see plenty of people who don’t seem to have applied enough rational thought to their actions, beliefs, or worldviews – in politics, for instance. Or relationships. The critical first step is recognizing that we are no different; such displays are not anomalies, instances of mental illness or abnormal behavior, but fundamental traits of being human. Our ‘rational’ thought processes are tied directly into our emotional reactions; they have to be, since it is the emotions that provoke us into optimal behavior anyway. Everything we do, everything we see or hear, gets tagged immediately with something along the lines of, “This is bad,” or, “I trust this person.” Often enough, however, this process occurs without much if any input from the ‘rational brain,’ providing an emotional tag to something without an appropriate reason. We all respond favorably to more attractive people; we all have prejudices. Millions of years of our species’ past history shaped us for certain things, many of which have no application to our present society.

And then there are the shortcuts, like trying to relegate decisions down to simple choices, or slotting people into distinct groups. Labels make everything easier, or so we tend to believe. And riding along for giggles is conditioning, the bias in thinking that comes from our environment, how we were raised and how our community feels about certain topics – in fact, we’re ridiculously concerned with what other people think, so much so that it often stops our own thinking. Ever wear something uncomfortable because it was ‘expected?’ Is this rational in any way?

[You may note that I have put quotes around ‘rational’ a few times above. This is not sarcasm, but recognition that there’s no firm distinction – the brain’s functions are not separate or distinguishable, and the definition of the word itself is pretty ratty, even though we’ve considered both as far more precise for a long time. See what I mean about conditioning?]

But even ignoring all the foibles of the mind, there are all the ways our senses fall short. Optical illusions demonstrate routinely that what we see and what we think we see can be two different things. Expectations count for a lot – we never see a sports ball in enough detail to positively identify it, but know what it is from the context; there’s a reason why every game contains rules against foreign objects. Motorcycles are hazardous, in part, because they’re not the automobile we expect to see, and thus are ignored (the trend for cars to have headlights on constantly, by the way, might have improved things for car drivers, but increased the risk to motorcyclists since that was the manner they could be differentiated from cars.) There’s even a noticeable trend for people to feel phantom vibrations from their cell phone, and we can feel something ‘walking on us’ for hours after finding a parasite. Our senses are not always trustworthy.

So with all that, the key facet of critical thinking isn’t whether or not we use it, but how often it goes unused without our realizing it. I said it in the earlier post: there is no such thing as a perfect skeptic, no one who is totally critical or rational in their approach. But there are certainly quite a few circumstances where it could be used a hell of a lot more. Further, it’s hard to find any detriment to this, on a personal level anyway; about the worst that might happen is being so concerned about making the right move that it hampers or outright halts the decision-making process.

Beyond the personal level, however, there are other effects, and these are factors in the next questions, which is Should I encourage and promote critical thinking? On the face of it, the answer is yes, but with a few caveats. We’ll start with, what do you expect to get out of it?

Discussions and debates, very very often, are a form of competition – one party attempting to best the other with a more convincing standpoint, more inarguable point, or more intelligent response. It’s funny how often we as a species engage in such pursuits, because they rarely ever come to the imagined outcome. Humans, quite simply, don’t like to admit we were wrong, especially not in a situation where it is synonymous with admitting defeat. If, at any point in time, we’re hoping to score a victory, we’re not really engaging in critical thinking anymore, since the point of this is to be convincing, not to improve our ranking.

This means that if we’re expecting to actually see change, forget about it – it’s not going to happen. But don’t take this to mean that we’re not actually accomplishing anything. The value of a solid argument is how well it sticks with someone, makes them think, causes them to re-examine their ideas or information. The change is never abrupt – it takes time, often enough so that the change is considered one’s own, and not provoked by anyone else, sorry to say. Bear in mind, too, that some standpoints have been built up over time, often in a reinforcing atmosphere (like a family or a church) – we won’t ever shift these in a single discussion. My go-to phrase is “plant the seed and move on.”

This does make it hard to know if we’re actually reaching anyone, and I honestly can’t offer a lot of solid advice here, since I have little evidence how often my own efforts have achieved anything at all – what follows is just my understanding of human nature. The most telling thing I’ve seen is when the topic is abruptly changed, and most especially when the other person goes on the offensive – this is potential indication that our point really did hit home, unable to be rebutted or reconciled with their previous standpoint. That’s about the largest reward we’re likely to see.

The fact that skeptical viewpoints are often unwelcome is also something to consider – if we’re in it for popularity, this is not the right approach. Especially in forums or groups which reinforce some questionable topic (such as ghost stories, UFOs, or alternative medicine,) the skeptic is unlikely to be greeted warmly. There, it’s an uphill battle, and usually not against a single person either – the phrase “thankless task” comes to mind. Just remember that in any public discussion, it’s not just the people responding that we’re engaging with, but everyone reading – this is usually far more than it appears. It’s the determined, immovable ones that so often choose to be vocal about it, while the ones who are on the fence are silent – just the opposite of what we’d like if we needed to see results, but so it goes. All we can do is lay out our best arguments in the belief that we’re reaching someone, and not count on any positive feedback in that area. At times, a little bonus is how we can sometimes show that those arguing against us are more emotional than rational, which only hurts their arguments; anyone listening in might just start to lean away from those who appear too obsessive or reactive, not wanting to associate closely with that apparent mindset.

This brings up contentiousness, and what approach works best. It’s extremely easy to rub someone the wrong way, come off as pretentious or condescending, to lecture, to get annoyed, and so on. I probably don’t have to tell anyone that this is unlikely to win others over, and can easily go just the opposite way, making them firmer in their beliefs just because they don’t like the way the argument has been presented. There are a lot of things that help here. Stating things as matter-of-factly (is that a phrase? You know what I mean) always helps, as does reminding oneself that there are no sides, just an exchange of information. Perhaps not thinking about trying to convince anyone, but only supporting our own views – a defensive, not offensive approach. This is often enough to be convincing anyway, especially without any competitive atmosphere. And the bare recognition that whoever we’re dealing with isn’t an idiot, might even be quite intelligent in many areas, with blind spot in this topic. Or maybe we’re the ones with the blind spot – this is, of course, the full immersion skepticism we’re talking about, and that includes the possibility of being wrong.

Yet, even one-on-one we can find skepticism to be unpopular. It helps to know that many of the topics that benefit the most from the critical approach fill some emotional niche in people – this is exactly why they continue to exist, and why promoting skepticism is useful. It’s not that they make sense and are so convincing, but that they provoke a desired reaction within. Counter this and we’re taking something away from someone, usually with nothing to replace it. It’s like taking away someone’s dessert. And so often in such cases, the defensive response is, “Why would you want to do that? It’s not hurting anybody!”

Well, perhaps, but this isn’t as supportable a statement as it seems on the face of it. Someone who believes in ghosts, as innocuous as it may seem, still has very distinct views on death and what happens afterward, which affects how they treat the death of a family member, and how they handle memorials and bequests. It might provide a bias over right-to-life and euthanasia legislation, and almost certainly will impinge on the lives of their children in some way. They might feel unnecessarily anxious over dark places or odd sounds, and with a deep faith in the topic, might even fork over significant amounts of money to some doofus waving around an electronic device he has no understanding of (not to mention promoting such TV programming over anything with useful content.) On a larger scale, the lack of critical thinking, and the acceptance thereof, can have serious impact on an entire society, or further. Not to go all Godwin, but the Nazi party had the support of enough people that believed in a master race and birthright to varying degrees, or that simply failed to recognize that their dissatisfaction over the post-WWI sanctions wasn’t justification for invasion. Nationalism (and its ugly close cousin, jingoism) requires the belief that a country is in some way distinctly different from others on a larger scale than economics and trivial culture – even the belief that birth on a particular plot of land provides some fundamental difference from rest of the human race. Witch hunts and genocide throughout history could only come about because too few people demanded firm evidence for their beliefs. Even now in this country, we have a ridiculous number of people who forget that politics has nothing to do with religion, by both logic and our Constitution, as well as never tumbling to how badly they’re being played by the appearance of virtue rather than the function of it – all a politician has to do is claim devotion and that’s apparently enough. And yes, sorry to say, there are a lot of people elsewhere in the world that find us complete idiots because of this.

Hopefully, this has highlighted something: we can see skepticism from a personal standpoint, or a social one. On a personal level, skepticism is rarely rewarding and often contentious, even reviled in places. Socially, however, it serves a serious purpose with the potential of preventing major hardship – I’m trying not to sound melodramatic but it’s almost impossible to overstate the benefits. The difference lies only in what we desire to see from our efforts, the feedback we hope to garner.

Odd memories, part 13

July 27, 2014July 22, 2014 Al Denelsbeck

I am a big fan of decent education, which is funny perhaps, because I don’t consider that I received one myself. I attended school in a rural farming community with fairly small populations, which many might tell you is much better than overcrowded city classrooms. But the tax base also plays a role, and the classrooms I was in hovered around 30 students, a number now considered more than optimal. Worse, however, was the poor budget for new materials, and the inadequate payroll to attract better teachers (a problem throughout most of the US,) and even the lack of a drive to find or follow the more productive methods of teaching. In short, the schools were stagnating, and some of the approaches to which I was exposed were old, and based more on what someone thought might be useful than on proven effectiveness. Nothing exemplified this more than their approach to teaching social skills, that we endured for two years within our phys ed curriculum. I’m talking about square dancing.

Yes, that’s right – clapping and stomping and banjos and some drawling idiot calling out the moves. If you haven’t had any exposure to this, you should probably cherish your ignorance – I’m here to tell you that’s the best course of action, as your friend – but if you want to know just how horrifying it really is, there are videos to be found. I refuse to provide any examples myself, and I’m picking at mental scabs even making this post.

I can’t quite remember what grades this occurred in, but it was elementary school – fourth and fifth, maybe? Suffice to say, we were less than twelve years old. It’s not exactly true that kids of that age all find the opposite sex icky; usually, anyone can find a few individuals that are rather intriguing – but all the rest are icky. Moreover, admitting to finding anyone intriguing is a recipe for rumors and teasing and graffiti. And even if you have the extremely rare opportunity to speak to the object of your interest in total privacy, there is always the good chance that they don’t requite, as it were, and you not only get crushed, or uncrushed or something, you also open up the same potential for rumors and teasing and graffiti – tact and decorum are something that develops much later in life, if it does at all.

Into this morass of social clumsiness we introduce (the version of that word that means ‘force’) dancing, close contact, exchanging partners constantly, and really shitass music, not to mention the attempt to keep time and not trip over one’s own feet. I extend the barest credit to the school faculty here, in that square dancing requires little agility and involves nothing too intricate, primarily skipping in time, and most kids have figured this out by that age. But it did involve synchronizing these actions with someone else – everyone else, actually. It also involves memorizing arcane terms and moves, like “do-si-do” and “allaman left” – these may not be the conventional spellings and I’m not going to introduce a web search for the correct ones into my browser history or through the NSA’s filters.

Square dance music is uptempo, certainly much more than a waltz or foxtrot, and it indicates just how badly your plans have gone awry when you see a gymful of kids attempting to maintain this tempo while every bit of body english they can emit is screaming rebellion and distaste. And despite the intentions of the teachers, the social outcasts got this stigma reinforced, even more than gym class always did. Instead of being the last picked for a team or never having the ball passed one’s way, you could now see the obvious reluctance of each partner to make contact, trashing both the timing and the rhythm of the moves, of which everyone else is depending as well. Need I say I was one of those outcasts? Hard as this may be to believe, it was true – I would not lie to you unless it made for a good story…

To this day, I cannot dance, nor do I have any desire to. I find all country and western music to be execrable, but square dance music makes my eye twitch and voices start in my head. Despite the clear benefits of forcing kids to do things they utterly despise and will never use later in life if the remainder of the educational process has had any effect at all, none of us showed any improvement in social skills for years afterward. There might have been some students who actually liked these sessions, only two weeks long if I remember correctly, but they never would have admitted it among the others, rumors and teasing and graffiti and all that.

I found myself, just once, with the opportunity to use any of those moves again after learning them in phys ed, but the barn mysteriously burned to the ground before the dance was over, sometime after I’d left. The only person injured was the guy who called out the moves; the hay in his teeth caught fire and set aflame his straw hat, which would have singed off his hair had he possessed any. So I was told, anyway – as I said, I wasn’t there.

Life is not all spiders and mantids

July 25, 2014January 8, 2024 Al Denelsbeck

Something to remind yourself when things start to look bleak. Or maybe I’m the only one that suffers from this narrow focus…

Naaaahhh.

Anyway, a brief break for the fartsy stuff, since I don’t do art. Some are recent, some not so much – every once in a while I just have to post a string of images without a whole lot of oral background.

When I’m out with students, I don’t shoot a lot, and I generally work light – no macro strobe rig or bracket, and no tripod. If the light is reduced, this means shooting wide open with a large aperture fairly often, so I pick subjects where the short depth-of-field can work the best. Here, two contrasting berries in the same focal plane stand out among the others, but this is a slightly misleading photograph – this was only a small cluster of berries remaining on a bush that had been harvested by birds. As I’ve often said, whatever goes to the edges of the frame goes on forever to the viewer, representing the whole scene – it’s an easy way to provoke a particular mood or idea that works better than the reality. As long as you don’t tell everyone…

I confess: this image, taken from the old yard during a cool sunset, had two electrical wires cutting across the bottom, the frustration of scenic photographers everywhere. Easy enough to edit out, though.

I just liked the effect of the backlighting and shadows.

Sometimes it’s more how you take it than what you take. It’s easy enough to get photos of lily pads, but do they look better by taking advantage of the way the light and reflections provide contrast with a rich indigo color, and a little effort in framing? Subtle changes to position and shooting angle can change your images radically, communicating the setting while providing a little eye-catching abstraction. Or maybe not – that’s really up to you, and I’m on the edge of doing that ‘art’ thing where I overexplain what it is you’re seeing.

The tip of the leaf almost touching the other gave the dew a chance to collect into a bigger drop than normal, bridging the gap. The things you find when you crawl around on damp mornings looking for something interesting.

I don’t recommend tackling high-contrast subjects in bright light conditions, which increase contrast even further – it’s too easy to go outside of the band the camera can capture effectively and start bleaching out the colors or making shadows too harsh. But sometimes it can work.

I can’t decide which approach works the best; these were taken with a shift of a meter to so to the side to change the foreground elements, and a slightly different focal length. It doesn’t help that, put alongside one another here, they almost mirror each other.

Not an autumn shot, but a summer one, only a few weeks ago after a heavy wind and rain storm deposited a selection of leaves into a stream. If you’re paying attention to how the light differs in these images, you can see how deep shade can make colors appear differently than in sunlight, and can hopefully use this to your advantage.

And in closing, a tight shot of dew (yes, again) on a dandelion blossom right before seed dispersal, short focus and a patch of direct sunlight from the rear, creating a seriously surreal image from the defocused effects.

I find it a curious anachronism, actually; one is supposed to keep the focus of attention sharp, because our eyes automatically go towards the sharpest portion of an image (as shown above,) but they also go towards contrast, and in this image, that’s the defocused highlights at lower left. I think our eyes go there first, then seek out the sharper details to try and make sense of what we’re seeing, putting it all in context. At least, that’s what I do…

1 … 207 208 209 210 211 … 282