camsterdam – Page 4

Caroling, Caroling…

December 6, 2015December 6, 2015 camsterdam Leave a comment

When I told my co-workers that my Friday night plans included dressing up like a robot and singing Christmas carols to Midnight Madness shoppers, I got a lot of blank stares. Nevertheless, there I went a-roboting.

Botchoir – a night I look forward to every year – is what we call the holiday occasion when volunteers of 826michigan and the Liberty Street Robot Supply and Repair Shop come together, don festive handmade droidal costumes, and sing robotic versions of holiday carols outside the store to drum up traffic during downtown Ann Arbor’s Midnight Madness. Robots in attendance included: Muffin Tin Robot, Jingle Bot, Bat Bot, Scoutbot, Eye-Robot, and Boom Bot. Favorite tunes of the night? Binary Carol of the Bells, Silent Byte, We Wish You a Merry Botmas, I Have a Little Robot (*Dreidel Dreidel*), Rudolph the Red-Nosed Robot, and Frosty the Robot.

Here’s how it works: On the hour, every hour from 7-10, we bundled up in coats and tin foil boxes and stepped outside with our song books. The BotChoir Master called out a song, and we searched our file memory for the song, calling out “loading,” “buffering,” to signal DON’T START YET, “network connectivity problems” or “error” if we really were struggling to find the page, and “upload complete” when we were all ready. This was true performance art! A crowd had gathered in front of the shop. 101, the Master calls out. And we began. The crowd enlarged as curious people were entranced by the silver shimmer of singing robot heads, and crossed the street to get a better look.

Other than a brief stint of choir in sixth grade, most of my singing comes in the form of private solos, in the car, in the shower, in my room, or in my head. But there’s something so joyful about getting together with a group of people and giving the gift of song to others. I sincerely think that singing with other people enhances your own voice. Maybe “goodness” of voice comes from a certain amount of confidence within. Maybe it was the cold that disguised the true sounds of our voice. But, in that moment, it wasn’t about how “good” the singing was. The songs were purely a vessel for happiness. We danced about, our cheeks sore from smiling, our throats scratchy from singing so loudly. Packs of young teenagers roaming the downtown scene danced by, high-fiving the volunteer wearing the Darth Vader helmet. Couples sang along to familiar tunes. In this little sidewalk spot, we made a pocket of peace and togetherness. A place where humans and robots from all walks of earth could stand together, and experience joy and comfort.

By far, the best part of the night was workshopping Mariah Carey’s “All I Want For Christmas is You” so it read as an ode to Star Wars instead, “All I Want For Christmas is r2d2.” Those robots will cease at nothing to take over all of Christmas. 🙂

Here’s a brief sample of our editing work:

I don’t want a Hutt for Christmas/There is just one thing I need, and I/Don’t care about the presents/on the planet Tattooine/I don’t need to lose my power/Way out there in hyperspace/Obi Wan won’t make me happy/With the Force on Christmas Day/I just want you for my own/More than you could ever know/Make my wish come true/All I want for Christmas is R2.

Want to learn Binary of the Bells? (Sing to the tune of Carol of the Bells)

101 101 101 101

100 100 100 101

000 11 000 11

101 101 101 101

I hope you all get a chance to sing your heart out with friends/families/fellow robots and help spread some cheer. You never know whose day you’ll make just a little bit better.

A House of Favorite Things

November 29, 2015November 29, 2015 camsterdam 1 Comment

“BOOK. FISH. SUIT. TIME. MOTHER. FATHER. LIFE.

Everything is part of Everything.

We Live, We Blunder

LOVE UNITES US.”

~Maira Kalman

This quote is one I have recently come across on the back of a most intriguing book found in the basement of Literati Bookstore. The book at first looks like it was handpainted and handwritten, and that’s just how it is meant to be. The book entitled “My Favorite Things” documents and explores the significance of objects that thread in and out of our lives and make our lives what they are. It’s the most unmaterialistic book about material items.

It’s beautiful, it’s personal, it’s unique to Maira Kalman and yet it’s a book that speaks to every reader. Even though your eyes may scan over a watercolor illustration of Kalman’s living room and think, “That doesn’t look like my living room,” it nevertheless possesses armchairs, coffee tables, paintings, a window that looks out onto the street, perhaps a musical instrument, a stack of magazines, that reminds you of your own house – the advice given to you in that room, the stories told, the love shared, the tea spilled, the tears dried, the memories molded [some still enshrined in your brain while others you have forgotten].

This book about objects is extremely important in my life of late because of a certain transition: that passing of old houses from one family to the next. Two years ago, we moved out of my childhood house in Jackson, Michigan and my family followed me to Ann Arbor (staying on their side, of course, so as not to encroach on my campus lifestyle!) We passed over the keys to new residents, yet for financial reasons, we still had a bit of ownership over it. Through those two years, I never went back to see it. 1) I never had a reason to but also 2) I wasn’t sure how my heart would feel seeing it again.

Because a house is not just a box of wood and paint. It houses human hearts – it’s a body for our bodies. It lives and breathes with us. It changes. It needs mending. It provides nourishment and shelter and escape and refuge and yes, even stress. It is a home for our memories – from its smell to its stains to its cozy nooks of comfort. And when it’s no longer yours, it’s like a piece of your family’s identity is left behind, too. But we move on. We grow together, we make new memories, we find new nooks. But we still remember our old friend. And I bet you – it remembers us.

In honor of last week’s final selling of the Jackson house (we are no longer the bank), I’m dusting off a poem I wrote in the aftermath of our move:

ode to a beloved yellow house

I had a little treasure box
nineteen years and counting
a shy pastel bursting
with buttery flavor.
Nature had its way
with decorating – as it does:
promiscuous kisses watermarked
its walls, flecks of snow and dust
collected on its faded, well-worn cheeks.
The lilac lasted but a week –
a single blink of an observant eye.

Winds would break its fragile walls,
crack its bones
against the test of time,
they said.

But my treasure trove was sturdy,
a bulwark never failing.
Its heart beat
stronger
than any thunderclap.
When opened
(very carefully now,
locks to the right,
defies expectations)
I found a jungle of memories,
vines of lives
well-traveled
and
well-
loved.

Couch seats [seams ripping,
fur-bedraggled, evaporated tints]
welcome you
to Home.
A musty odor
of damp
and old
and wisdom
brings the anticipation
of summer.
Fans flap
and clap
and applause
your busy day,
try their best
to cool you
down.
That spot there,
where
you spilled your toothpaste,
brush too big
for your five year old
mouth,
looks up without disdain.
“Don’t give up,”
it encouraged,
and provided
second
chances again
and
again.

My box loved its pairs:
(Vivaldi, pancakes)
(parents, child)
(kitten, family)
(sickness, health)
(laughter, tears)
(darkness, creaks in the night)

A two-way
love
permeated through its walls,
from our skin-
we kept its secrets,
as it kept ours.
Look! My whispers,
my thoughts,
my jam-covered crumbs
nestle snuggly
in the space
between
carpet
and wood.

I close my box with one tear-
sealing our bond
with the one everlasting gift.
The love of memories
wedged deep in
hearts,
in cube-shaped
cutouts.
Jump right in
and don’t ever let go.

For we don’t empty,
we retain,
build on
new layers.

Today,
I have moved my treasures
to the transparent future
where I
can look out
and always see
my
lovely
little
box
-as it always stood-
filling up with new
treasures that
aren’t mine
to find
anymore.

Thanks.

November 22, 2015November 22, 2015 camsterdam Leave a comment

You know when you want to thank someone, but you know that nothing that you can say can totally, wholly, and accurately represent the true appreciation and gratitude that you feel inside? It’s that darn dilemma that is similar to the feeling of love, where no matter what words come out, there are about a hundred more that you could pile on top…but you can’t because that would just be a little extreme.

So what can you do?

I recently had an experience that was so much more meaningful to me than I had ever been expecting. As a runner-up for the Current Magazine’s 2015 Fiction and Poetry Contest, I was invited to read my poem live at the Arbor Brewing Company. I’ve done readings before, and as much as I love them, this one didn’t seem like it would be any different. I had been chosen as one out of 40 submissions to read, but on a Wednesday night? Who would come? My mom skipped a book club meeting to accompany me to the bar, and there I saw three of my friends, drenched in rain after the downpour, who had braved the weather and walked across campus to watch me read! They had cut a box out of their schedule that night, wrote in Sharpie “Go to Cammie’s reading,” they thought that this night was special enough to take an hour to not do homework, to not attend club meetings, to cheer for their friend, and that touched me more than they will ever know.

And then the surprise that hit me even more. When my bosses at University Towers (I’m the Community Assistant there) and co-worker walked through the door. I had told them I was performing that night, just making small talk during my shift. But they came, they clapped, they cheered, they celebrated the night with me. To think that they cared enough about me to support me in my achievements that they would spend two hours after a long day at work was unbelievably kind.

It was at that point that I realized that I had done something to be proud of. And for some silly reason, it took all of these wonderful people in my life to remind me to appreciate this success and congratulate myself.

The first thing I did to thank them was to write to each person individually and tell them, as graciously as I could, that I was honored to have them as a friend. Sometimes, to have a written down tangible historical note, rather than a simple vocally-transmitted message, really makes an impact. It’s always great to hear a compliment, but to receive a letter where someone took the time to sit down and think about all the ways that they love you is something that they will be able to hold on to for a very long time.

So, that’s my advice if you’re looking for ways to show your appreciation for someone: write a thank you note (it doesn’t have to be for any particular occasion – just a “I’m thinking of you and you rock. Here’s why…” type of thing); support them back (if they have an event or show or award presentation, go cheer them on); find little ways of being kind to them (tell them good luck before their exam, ask them about their new house, send them a box of tissues and can of soup if they’re sick – the little things always add up).

Find little pockets of gratitude everywhere you can. You’ll find that you will be a much happier and satisfied person when you can appreciate even the things you don’t know how or who to thank.

Like seeing the first snow fall on red berries! Take a photo – capturing that moment is remembering the beauty, which in turn is a way of remembering to be grateful.

Happy Thanksgiving to everyone celebrating. Happy everything to everyone else and have something with cinnamon in it for me!

Write in the comments below: what’s something you’re thankful for?

The Artful Sharer

November 15, 2015November 15, 2015 camsterdam Leave a comment

We are in need of a revolution. No, I’m not talking Bernie Sanders; no, this is a revolution in creativity. To remind ourselves that art is a vital aspect of hope and that we must utilize it if we want to change the way that we view the world.

It seems like every time I open a new webpage these days, I’m flooded with Facebook fights over colors of coffee cups, posts of people taking pictures of their cell phones in dingy bathroom mirrors, presidential candidates talking talking talking without any action, and terrible acts of hatred pockmarking this earth, scarring it, destroying it.

Keep scrolling and it’s a wonder why we’ve all become so cynical of the world. Yes, it’s important to keep a finger on the news, but when we get so bogged down with it, is there any hope of returning from the deep end?

I believe there is, and so I’ve decided to start bringing hope to the world in my own little way. And that way is through art.

At the beginning of the school year, I stumbled upon a few blogs that dedicate themselves to exploring art and other visual cultures, such as photography, design, animation, painting, installation art, architecture, drawing, and street art. These blogs, such as Colossal, My Modern Met, and Laughing Squid to name a few, are already doing what I want to do: they are hunting down all of the amazingly innovative and passionate and beautiful things that people globally are creating and sharing with the world.

I want to bring it closer to home, and share these little nuggets of inspiration and hope with my world. About once a day, I try to share at least one link to Facebook, highlighting anything from:

...The Largest Art Festival in the World: The Echigo-Tsumari Art Triennale

Giant Urban Flowers in Jerusalem That Bloom When Pedestrians Pass Under Them

and sometimes natural art, produced by no one other than Mother Earth –

The Crooked Forest: A Mysterious Grove of 400 Oddly Bent Pine Trees in Poland

Throughout the constant scrolling of anger and suffering and irritation at the world, I hope that these posts remind my friends that art can be powerful. It can lift us up, it can bring us together, it can confuse us and spur heated conversations in their own way, it can be magical, it can be an escape. But most of all, it is a way to communicate with the world in a non-violent way. It’s a way to tell people that they have the ability to create beauty, to change people’s thinking, to challenge the way that they see the world. To remind people that among the bad, there is good stuff happening, too.

Take the events that happened Friday night in Paris. Jean Jullien’s simplistic image of the Eiffel Tower holding up a circle of peace went viral within 12 hours.

In an interview with NPR, Jullien says, “I turned on the French radio. I heard that there was an attack, and my first reaction was to draw. It’s this sort of moment where you don’t necessarily try to understand everything coherently. It’s more of a state of shock and sadness and anger and all these very sort of raw feelings. So for me, it’s just sort of trying to summarize these feelings in one image with my way of reacting,” Jullien says. “I shared it online as a reaction, not really thought through at all.”

What’s interesting is that he didn’t want it to be viral. He felt uncomfortable being in the spotlight as the “creator,” benefitting from exposure during this time of tragedy. But, his reaction achieved the revolution that he had hoped.

Jullien says, “The idea was just for people to have a tool to communicate, and to respond and to share solidarity and peace. It seems that’s what most people got out of it. So in that sense, if it was useful for people to share and communicate their loss and need for peace, then that’s what it was meant to be.”

The takeaway? The size of the action doesn’t matter: it can be a larger-than-life fabric flower that lights up at night; a powerfully minimal black and white peace sign, or a simple Facebook share. All that’s important is that the art brings people together, it makes them notice what’s going on around them, it makes them feel agency in the world, that they can make a difference by doing something. This Earth is amazing, yes in a tragic way that it can be so self-destructive, but mostly, because of the billions of people who have the power to share a little art with the world in any way or form that they can.

P.S. Sharing art is wonderful and definitely can lift people’s spirits and hearts. But, generous donations can also provide resources and necessities that human beings require. Please if you can, support the French Red Cross, Doctors Without Borders, or Friends of Fondation de France, Inc. Thank you!

David Mitchell: Master of His Universe

November 8, 2015November 8, 2015 camsterdam Leave a comment

The Psychology of Fictional Characters: Why You Should Give Your Protagonist a Personality Test

November 1, 2015November 1, 2015 camsterdam 1 Comment

As I sit here today, grading the fabulous work of my first year students from the one-credit Honors Seminar I’ve been teaching this semester, I can’t help but think of the origins of the unique activity that I have assigned them and that they have indeed excelled in the highest degree.

It all started two summers ago as I traveled through highways lined with enough soybeans to fill a hundred Silk cartons, and rows and rows of corn. No, I was not on a quest to find the best farmland in America. I was making a pilgrimage to University of Iowa’s Summer Writing Festival. Hundreds of writers, old and young, filed into classrooms, notebooks and pens in hand, to unleash the thoughts that were somewhere in their brains, buried underneath deadlines, to-do lists, phone calls, and meetings.

Photo Credit: “Pick Me” by Phil Roeder, https://flic.kr/p/axkFzk

The class I had signed up for was called “Six Characters In Search of A Plot,” a play-on-words of Luigi Pirandello’s 1921 play, Six Characters in Search of An Author. On the first day, we were presented with six pages of black and white eBay pictures, circa 1920. Based on intuition and how a picture ‘spoke to us’ (as pictures are wont to do to us writers), our homework involved choosing a protagonist, antagonist, supporting characters, a love interest, a busy body, and a wise owl. Focusing on the main character for the first night, we were set free to be in ‘daydream mode,’ cogitating on the desires of the character, his/her background and childhood. It’s true that a picture is worth a thousand words, because suddenly, an entire plot-line full of scandal, revenge, love and loneliness, disaster and reunion came together.

We arrived the next day in class to share our unique results of our individual journeys to the Dreamlands. Many of us had chosen the same pictures to represent a different character in each story. The studious man with the curly hair and the fitted vest was the proud, vain protagonist of one classmate’s story, while he happened to be the neighbor’s stuttering cousin who comes to visit one summer and falls in love with my main character. No two stories were alike, even when we used the same pictures!

Next, it was time to add depth to our characters. As my instructor, Carolyn Lieberg, put it, think of an iceberg. Floating on top of the water is the amount of information about your character that will be present in the specific story you are telling. But under the surface exists the rest of the character. Millions of scenarios and behaviors lurk in the depths of the character’s ocean, a place that only the author herself has dared to travel. But how do you go about learning about your character?

Enter: the personality test.

Long used by psychologists to understand their patients’ mental composition, the personality test can also be an invaluable tool for a writer to delve into the minds of their made-up characters and develop them into well-rounded people.

There are hundreds of tests online that I am sure are all varieties of the same ideas. WARNING: These tests are addictive! Take this quiz or this one or this one and you will see why. In my class, we were asked to take these once as if the main character was taking it him/herself. This was particularly interesting, because even if you (the author) know that your character is a very untrustworthy sort, the character might see himself as honest, or lie to cover up his smarminess. The second time we took the test, we took it as a supporting character, commenting on the personality of the main character. Again, the results were quite different, because other characters may see the main character differently than the main character sees himself.

If you are a writer struggling to create believable and realistic characters, try the personality test! There are no wrong answers. You will be surprised how the character will come through and pick the correct answer for you!

*For an extra challenge, try to journal entry in your main character’s voice about taking the personality test. Devise a reason for his or her having to take it, and write about their reactions to the questions. Happy writing!