I had made my first traverse through the Matthaei Botanical gardens. I picked up some chamomile on the way and rubbed it in my palms until it was just dust, tiny specks that fell away on the ground as I walked, but as they left, they generously left their scent for memory’s sake. A kaleidoscope was situated in an open area, pointed at a handsome pot of purple velvet plants, whose name now escapes me. The apparatus had been set up to spin (to accommodate to our visual necessity for constant stimuli change – if our eyes don’t move, the nerves get exhausted – bored of sending their chemical signals and it disappears from our mental projections.) Not one moment had been preceded by the last – every second a fresh burst of novelty, of colors and geometry sliding in for a brief second to visit, and then conceding to the next image waiting in the wings.

I ended up leaving to go sit by a bank of a small river, wrote as I listened to the trickling of water around fallen branches that were still connected to their trunks connected to the ground. They were leaning into the water, fallen almost too dramatically, too tragically into the swirling cold. But the ebb of water desires to follow its own path (traveling south, that is, behind me relative to how I was situated); they collided into the fallen natural debris and then, realizing they had been struck, rushed around corners and rocks. Their rippling was initially almost undetectable, but as more time passed, the louder, the more excited the sound grew – I could almost see it quivering. The sound grew as organic and natural as a spear of grass piercing out of the earth.

Spring is here, and I urge you all to take a walk through some brambles, breathe in some clean air, and feel the reanimation of a million lives from slumber.

Sue majors in Neuroscience & English and tends to lurk in bookstores.

Marrying ideas of statistical analysis and museum studies, I would like to propose an experiment.  I hope to work in museum education in my future, so to get the ball rolling I will start hypothesizing now.

The present museum’s status quo of label design is an easily visible label tattooed next to the artifact.  The label usually contains roughly 300 words and articulates a particular message about the piece.  It will tell you when the artifact was made, the artist, its significance, and an interpretation of the work.  This is a pretty standard label.

What I would like to question is what if that label was removed all together?  What would happen to the exhibit?  What would be lost and/or gained?

Coming from an educational standpoint I am interested in testing the status quo in order to find new possibilities and perspectives.  On average, people spend 30 seconds or less reading a wall label.  This is not a lot of time to retain information.  I see the educational benefits for wall labels and I am not saying we should omit them from museums, but I would like to test the effects of a wall less exhibit.  What could be learned from them?

Not having conducted this test, I will make up a set of hypothesized results.  I think people will gain a sense of independence and agency while walking through the exhibit.  They will interpret, imagine, and wonder instead of being instructed.  The experience will be like entering a fantasy world.  Furthermore, individual interpretations could and very well would lead to varying perspectives, offering different vantage points and new categories for meaning.  The artifacts would enter a new realm of thought.  The possibilities are endless because the amount of traffic is such.

The modern museum has taken on the role of education and entertainment.  An exhibit surrounded by freedom of thought and interpretation would facilitate wonder and self-expressionism.  Isn’t that what art’s all about?

Have a good weekend!

Sara majors in Art History and enjoys long walks.

For Easter I decided to drive to Chicago and celebrate with my family.  Road trip!  And what road trip doesn’t have a soundtrack?  Actually, most of my solo ones.

As much as I adore music, I find it is too easy to tune out while I’m driving long distances.  Plus flipping through radio stations can be a pain and popping in a CD is annoying because I don’t was to hear the same thing in the same order multiple times.  So instead I listen to audiobooks.

I mean, it’s hard to ignore the person chattering at you in the front seat so if you want something to keep you awake and prevent you from getting velocitized, words are the way to do it.  It also means you don’t look like a fool to the people passing you because you’re singing along.

Typically I like to read my books, not listen to them, but when I’m driving I find that the time goes by quicker when I’m engaged in a story.  And it’s typically hands free too.

Don’t know what to read/listen too?  Here are a couple of free podcast books you can download, via iTunes of course.  If you’re on the look out for others,  search podiobook.

*Somebody Somewhere by Tom Lichtenberg A psycho stalker kidnaps his would-be girlfriend, gets chased by the cops, runs out of gas right outside your house, where you and your spouse are enjoying a quite evening and now the pair of you are hostages at gunpoint and surround by police.

*The Rookie by Scott Sigler (the King of podcast novels) This is set amongst a lethal pro football league 700 years in the future. Aliens play positions based on physiology, creating receivers that jump 25 feet into the air, linemen that bench-press 1,200 pounds, and linebackers that literally want to eat you. Organized crime runs every franchise, games are fixed, and rival players are assassinated.

*A Man and his Unicorn by Anthony Matthews Vern was an ordinary college instructor and looking forward to spring break. But on the last day of classes and dreaming about a gorgeous gal, he woke up in a white washed world with nothing there! … That included his clothes (oops).  After meeting a few individuals who wanted to slice, dice, or otherwise harm him, Vern got into a quest. Then he met a beautiful Red unicorn stallion with magical powers. The unicorn took immediately to Vern. He was thrilled – then he remembered why unicorns took to certain people … Vern didn’t have too much success in dating (he swore he was a good kisser). Hopefully, he’ll have more success in staying alive.

Life is ever changing.  For a college student this can range from studying for an exam, taking an exam later, drinking wine with friends, and going to an arts event all in the same day.  We are supreme, multitasking beings.  Extremely impressive, if I do say so myself.

Tonight I was accompanied by one of my finest, most admired friends to the one-year celebration of the opening of the new wing in UMMA.

The night was filled with the two food groups of sweets and fruit, through decadent cupcakes and bananas.  While my friend and I shared cupcakes, we spoke with other museum connoisseurs about art and life.  We got away from our technological devices for a few hours and enjoyed the company of each other.

Art has that effect on people.  It removes them from their daily, sometimes ordinary lives and takes them into a new world filled with culture, conversation and yummy treats.

The basis for museums is education, but also entertainment.  Your eyes are opened to not only art, but also society.  Museums are vital to our sociological continuum.  They are the thread that pulls history to the present day and the future.

Their importance is humble.  It fosters relationships between community members, while asking little in return.  They are an ever changing valuable resource that should be appreciated.

Tonight I will leave you with this message.  Immerse yourself in the museum.

Close your eyes and clear your mind of any rambling thoughts. Now, imagine yourself walking around the campus of your dream college- what do you see?

Hopefully, for many of you images of State Street and the Diag occupy your mind. However, I think most of us can agree that the ideal campus contains classically constructed buildings scattered among an abundance of greenery. And maybe, for the fun of it, we could throw in a lake and a couple of squirrels.

Recently though, certain schools have decided to infuse modern works of art into their collegiate landscapes. For example, sculptural pieces made out of wire and metal have begun to populate Cornell University’s picturesque campus. Cluttered around the school’s stone bridges, these new artistic additions are known as the “Suicide Fences.”

Okay, so they aren’t actually called “Suicide Fences,” but in the wake of recent alleged student suicides, Cornell University has erected fences (and increased security) along bridges that overlook the beautiful gorges that surround campus. Similar actions have been taken by schools like New York University who instead of building fences put screen floors on every level of dormitory stairwells.

As I read about this new development in the Cornell Daily Sun, I was extremely disheartened. Instead of spending time and money on these temporary fences, shouldn’t the university (and other schools) be trying to figure out why these students are committing suicide? Or maybe they should put in the time and effort to find new ways of reaching out to desperate students. No, instead schools like Cornell and NYU have taken to physical construction as an answer to mental and emotional strife. What they don’t realize however is that no amount of metal or security guards can stop someone from committing the act of suicide. If someone wants to jump, believe me, they will jump.

I’m a sucker for music or rather background noise and music is my favorite thing to listen too.  Doing homework, folding laundry, walking to class, and occasionally even getting to sleep I have something sounding in my ear.

Once in awhile I like to listen to something other that Celtic reels or Daft Punk beats.  I go outside  and just listen.  I was thrilled last Monday when I actually woke up to birdsong!  Nature has it’s own melody going on, one that I usually drown out or simply ignore.  Taking the time to listen to it forces me to slow down and essentially recharge.  Who has just sat on the beach and listened to waves roll in?  It’s the same thing, I just sit under a tree near the CCRB and listen to waves of students instead of water.

I’ve heard lots of nature sounds, but the night sky has always been silent.  Sure, you can hear crickets in the night or a breeze through the trees but the stars themselves are silent.  I know satellites make noise, who hasn’t heard Sputnik’s electronic beeps?  But other sounds I’ve always loved to imagine.  Do stars crackle and pop like bonfires or do they produce a roar?  Yes yes, I know technically they can’t produce sound because space is a vacuum, but it’s fun to imagine.  Do you think the sound of methane rain on Titian is the same as water rain here on Earth?  Does the storm that is Jupiter’s Red Spot sound like ten thousand thunderstorms with crashing booms or more like ten thousand tornadoes with a whining wind?  Or perhaps it sound more like the upper registers of a canary.  Don’t you wonder at all what space sounds like?

Apparently yes, some one does have the same weird taste as I do. WhiteVinyl designs aka Luke Twyman has created SolarBeat, an ambient music box based on the motions of the planets (and one asteroid) around the Sun.

The planets move at the correct speed relevant to each other and every time they cross the line a chime sounds, a different pitch for each orbital body. You can speed up the tempo or slow it down and even pause it to compare the location to the planets to each other.  At the bottom of the page is the number of times each planet (well, Ceres is an asteroid in the Kuiper Belt) has crossed the line of music and produced a note.  Mercury is a speed demon, it went around 1031 times before Pluto even sounded once.

While the default speed of SolarBeat is in the middle of the tempo range, I wouldn’t recommend you adjust it too much to either side.  Too slow, there is a lot of empty sound space and it’s hard to discern a melody other than Mercury’s waily chime.  Too fast, and a lot of the notes sound together and the pattern of the piece is lost.  Either way, I can finally listen to space without needing a really big hearing aide or having to bundle up from cold weather. I wonder how long it’ll take for Pluto to cross chime 10 times…

Your planet-listening blogger,

Jenny