In his conclusion to “Texts and Contexts in the Interpretation of Early Maps,” Harley says, “In addition to regarding the map as a topographical source, we are becoming aware of a cartographic power that is embedded in its discourse.” A lot of somewhat jargon-laden words and phrases here — topographical, cartographic, embedded in its discourse — but I’m interested in particular in the idea of “cartographic power.” Throughout the chapter Harley shows us many of the different factors that contribute to the making of a map. So many different pieces that we need to be aware of: who made a map — often more than one person? who sponsored / paid for / needed the map? etc., etc.
[Please note, I am posting here the last third of some free writing we did in class, relatively unrevised but somewhat abridged!]
I do love writing, and in fact I love language. I love words. I love the grammatical structures that hold words and ideas together and make them communicable. I love grammatical puns and missteps. I love beautiful prose. I’m less excited by what is more mundane. … And I want to be a beautiful writer. And a meaningful writer.
I think about the conversation today in class, and about art and perspective and the limits of language. I a realize why so often I feel utterly stymied by all of this. Because at the end of the day my writing, beautiful or mundane, never quite says exactly what I want it to say? Because there is less of me? more of me? than what is on the page? Because as soon as I say it it is somehow not quite right? Not quite what I wanted to say? Or maybe it was when I wrote it, but language and ideas and what I want to say are all too fluid.
I’ve gone to the Great Allentown Fair with my family every year since we moved to Allentown in 2002. We generally try to go on opening day–in part, to see if we’ve won any prizes for our entries–and then at least once more.
The Fair is an amazing entryway into the diversity, glory, and weirdness of humanity; and it is also smelly and dirty, and way to crowded for the introvert in me. I love the Fair and hate it, and nothing better represents this ambivalence than the Fair food.
I am not ambivalent about the smells and the grease. Although it is an inherent part of the Fair, I hate it. I’m not even tempted by deep-fried oreos or Krispy Kreme donut burgers. (Full disclosure: I’m vegetarian.) My two indulgences every year are a bright red, rock hard candy apple and a greasy, powdery funnel cake.
This year, though, I was delighted–amazed?, amused?–immediately upon entering the Fair to see, of all things, a stand giving away cottage cheese!
Hood’s cottage cheese. A world of flavors, some savory like cucumber-dill, some sweet like peach or pineapple, and the one I ultimately chose: just plain cottage cheese!
I wasn’t particularly hungry when I arrived at the Fair, but I do like cottage cheese, and it seemed like it might be a good foundation for the grease and sugar that lay ahead, and anyway I like cottage cheese.
It was pretty good: small, even curds; just moist enough without being messy; a little salty, a little yeasty. Most of all, amidst a long midway full of food that was deep-fried and/or sugar-coated and/or so synthetic that I wouldn’t even want to begin to think about what actually went into it, eating cottage cheese at the Fair seemed delightfully, hysterically, appropriately inappropriate!
Spent a lot of the day today getting this class ready to go. I tend to spend a lot of time cogitating and playing with ideas. Often it doesn’t all come together until right up to the last minute. Today is even a bit early. A few exciting new things to try and, of course, some old favorites.
Last year experimented with a new text which, in the end, did not work as well as I’d hoped. Hard to replace classics that are classics for a reason. So we are back to Harley. But we’ll also be looking at more recent stuff, hearing other voices.
Can’t help it: Maps get me excited!
Crampton revisits the “map is everything means map means nothing” issue that emerges with oh so many things. Maps are representations. Maps are producers and conveyors of knowledge. Maps are xenophobic. Maps are simply how we get around.
I very much like that Crampton raises the issue of the positivism of GIS. This issue is one for which I have not articulated a good response: If we are literally dealing with pictures, with satellite images, how do we adequately critique? We can critique decisions about the collection of the images, but we can’t refute the images themselves.
I argue that maps are not true or false, and yet a Google map is “right” –and therefore “true”?–except for errors that can then be fixed. Interesting idea here too: What is the relationship of truth to error? Do what extent does intentionality and/or agenda (again, relationship is interesting!) matter?