Behaving foolishly

I did not plan to make a fool of myself on Celebrating Scholarship and Creativity Day. I thought I would listen to presentations, observe, ask questions and engage our students, as I have for the past 11 years on this special day set aside for students to show their work.


But I had never met Joey Hamburger, a theater major, actor, writer and comedian. Joey also is an E-Scholar interested in learning the business side of theater. I stumbled upon his presentation thanks to Judy Shank, secretary for the Myers Chair and the Clemens Chair. She saw me wandering the hallway in the Henrita Academic Building at CSB, pointed me toward Joey’s presentation and assured me he is funny.

Great! I thought. I could use a laugh.

I was a few minutes early. A personable young man, Joey introduced himself and we chatted about the connection between theater and the E-Scholars program, which is operated by the Donald McNeely Center for Entrepreneurship.

Joey explained that, for his E-Scholars project, he wants to develop an improv workshop for a corporate setting, to help people gain skills in public speaking and presentations.

The next thing I knew, Joey started conducting an improv workshop for everyone in the room, a group consisting of me and approximately a half dozen students.

The first rule of improv is stay out of your head, Joey explained. It’s a nifty way of saying don’t overthink what you are doing.

We began with a series of interactive, physical exercises, and I discovered I could not stay in my head and do the exercises at the same time. I had to set aside any self-consciousness I felt so I could concentrate on Joey’s instructions – which, by the way, were pretty goofy.

The exercises helped put us at ease with each other and ourselves as we mimicked each other, made strange sounds and behaved foolishly.

Then we moved on to actual improvisation. As someone who tuned in to watch the original SNL cast, I felt like I was being initiated into a secret society. It turns out the mystery of improv is pretty simple.

You and your fellow improvisers create a scene, create conflict, escalate it and resolve it.

That’s it.

Well, it’s a wee bit harder than that, especially since I struggled with the urge to sneak back inside my head. For a few precious moments though, while celebrating creativity in a classroom with CSB and SJU students, I overcame that temptation and lost my head.

The liberal arts: not just for students

We talk a lot at CSB and SJU about the value of the liberal arts experience we offer our students, and I have no doubt it is exceptional. Since I work in communication and marketing, I see evidence of it every day. But every now and then I take advantage of the experience myself.

Last month I enjoyed two occasions to immerse myself in the liberal arts. I signed up for a book discussion group which culminated with a dinner with the author. I also attended Private College Scholars at the Capitol, an annual event that showcases student scholarship. In both instances I got to talk about ideas with people representing a range of academic disciplines and perspectives.

The book discussion group was the first organized by Noreen Herzfeld in her capacity as Nicholas and Bernice Reuter Professor of Science and Religion. We read The Evolution of God, a New York Times bestseller and finalist for the Pulitzer Prize by Robert Wright, a senior fellow at the New America Foundation and editor in chief of Bloggingheads.tv. http://www.newamerica.net/people/robert_wright

Two discussion groups composed of faculty and administrators, as well as student reading groups met separately earlier in the month. Then, we all convened Feb. 20 for a casual dinner with the author at the Saint John’s Pottery Studio. In that relaxed atmosphere, we engaged the author and each other in conversation about how we perceive God, how those perceptions have changed over time and how our understanding of God affects the way we treat each other as individuals and as nations.

My compliments to the many individuals who made this a perfect evening. In addition to Noreen’s efforts, Richard White, associate professor of chemistry and director of the Honors Program and Undergraduate Research, organized the honors student reading groups. The Benedictine Institute provided funding support, and Hilary Thimmesh, director of the Benedictine Institute, hosted a discussion one evening. Gloria Hardy, master of all essential matters at the Benedictine Institute, provided indispensable organizational support. Finally, Richard Bresnahan, Saint John’s artist-in-residence, provided Benedictine hospitality as the gracious host at the studio.

I realize much behind-the-scenes work went into making the experience appear so effortless. Since all I had to do was read a book, show up, talk about it and eat, it’s easy for me to say, “Hey, let’s do this again sometime,” but I hope we do.

February must have been a busy time for Richard White. I saw him again a few days later in the capitol rotunda, where four of our students gave poster presentations of their research. They were among 39 students presenting their research as representatives of Minnesota private colleges. The Scholars at the Capitol program is facilitated by the Minnesota Private College Council. https://sharepoint.csbsju.edu/Pages/Scholars-at-the-Capitol.aspx

As soon as I walked inside the capitol, I could feel the energy. A buzz of ideas filled the rotunda as students explained their research projects to visitors. I talked with each of our four students – Heather Beckius, CSB sophomore English major; Pierce Edmiston, SJU senior individualized major in cognitive science; Shannon McEvoy, CSB senior art and Hispanic studies double-major; and Christopher Seiler, SJU senior chemistry major. Then I went around and talked with students from the other private schools.

By the end of the day, I felt better about the future of our country. I felt downright optimistic. We hear plenty in the news about problems we face in our communities and worldwide. These students – with their intellectual enthusiasm, their energy and their confidence – are the solution.

The stories we tell

Imagine you are a historian charged with creating an exhibit about an individual. How do you tell that person’s story? What objects do you choose? Which ones do you omit?

How do you document a life? Do you aim for a comprehensive story about the individual, or do you focus on one characteristic of that person? How do you arrange the information to capture the interest of the museum-goer? Consider, for example, that Julia Child’s kitchen is on exhibit at the Smithsonian.

Annette Atkins, CSB/SJU professor of history, gave such an assignment to her History 200 students. Each student was assigned to act as curator of an exhibit about the life of a fellow student, to tell that classmate’s story using primary and secondary research, interviews, observation, objects and photos.

Then, she invited colleagues and administrators to attend an exhibit opening Tuesday, Feb. 7, on third floor Quad at SJU.

The exhibits ranged from literal to abstract presentations of information. Some were puzzling. Some had a creative edge, but all were thoughtful attempts to convey meaningful information about a unique person. Of course, because it was an Annette Atkins event, it also was fun.

Each student stood next to the exhibit about her or his life, and we viewers were encouraged to interpret the array of objects, photos and text, ask questions and interact with the students, then vote for our favorite exhibit. In some ways, it was like the old game show, “What’s My Line?” where panelists asked questions to guess a person’s occupation.

As I approached one exhibit, I could hear a recording of someone singing “Ave Maria.” Sheet music of “Don Giovanni” was displayed on a music stand, along with other objects. I asked the student if he is studying vocal performance.

“Yes.”

I asked if he enjoys singing “Don Giovanni.”

“Yes.”

Finally, I made the connection with the “Ave Maria.”

“Is this you singing in the recording?”

“Duh!” (OK, he didn’t actually say that, but he probably thought it.)

Visiting the history exhibit was a great opportunity to chat with students about their interests. Some discovered a love for history as early as fifth grade. For one, the American Revolution holds primary interest. Another leans toward the Middle Ages.

It also was a great reminder of how the historical record is interpreted and constructed – how fragments provide clues to a person’s life. If I had to choose a few objects to characterize myself, I would start with a pen and notebook. How would you tell your story?

Don’t miss ‘Eco Byway’ exhibit

As promised in my previous post, I will offer my reflections on selected works now on exhibit in galleries at the College of Saint Benedict from the juried art show “Eco Byway.”

Since my purpose is to generate interest in and conversation about the exhibit, I first want to share a response to my previous post about the exhibit at Saint John’s University. Sarah Gainey, assistant director and environmental education coordinator, Saint John’s Arboretum, visited the exhibit July 20 and had this to say:

“I visited the gallery today with a few coworkers, not only as an excuse to do something inside an air conditioned building but to celebrate local artists. I also was most struck by Kenneth Steinbach's pieces, specifically his buckthorn words and the moose antler. However, I was intrigued by the words, as they immediately put a smile on my face as I walked in. Probably because both I've spent hours fighting buckthorn myself and because the statement is so simple but true.

“The moose antler was the piece I pondered the most. The intersection of social and natural systems is what I teach about and the piece demonstrated that beautifully. I wish for a smaller replica I could wear around my neck while teaching.

“Thanks Glenda for the encouragement to get out and see the exhibit!”

I love the way Sarah connects personally with the exhibit. Now I hope to encourage readers to see the exhibit at CSB. Beginning in the Gorecki Gallery Lounge in the Benedicta Arts Center, let’s take a walk alongside a series of untitled black and white digital prints and see what Berel Lutsky sees during a daily commute.

The images capture fleeting glimpses of passing landscape. A blurriness caused by the commuter’s motion lends a dreamlike quality but it also signals how we viewers, in our contemporary rush to get somewhere, seldom slow down to notice what is right before our eyes. In contrast, two prints bring into clear-eyed focus a variety of industrial structures imposed on the landscape – smokestack, elevated storage tanks, power lines – the sort of humdrum detail we often “photoshop” out of our roadside view. One of these, a silhouette of three elevated storage tanks, looks like Martian spaceships have arrived to take inventory of the passing traffic. Are we the aliens in our own landscape?

I am an optimist, both by nature and by choice, and so I responded to the playfulness and restrained sense of hope among some of the works in the Gorecki Gallery.

Julie Ganser received the Audience Choice Award among the CSB works. In her “Bubble Garden,” sheets of bubble wrap encase synthetic leaves and blossoms inside individual bubbles. It’s an eye-grabber that demands attention both to the tiny details and to the dramatic, overall effect.

“Bitter Pill,” a vivid green and white plastic capsule dominates the gallery floor and evokes both whimsy and a warning. Bart Vargas has attached plastic bottles upside down to cover the surface of a cardboard globe. The result is deceptively playful. Vargas hopes to draw attention to the poisons produced by “the manufacturing processes of plastics used in food production.”

Finally, there is hope in the expressions of pioneer urban farmers who have reclaimed abandoned lots among the ruins of Detroit neighborhoods. Daniel Farnum’s photos document their entrepreneurial spirit. His work received the award for Most Innovative Social Impact Imagery.

Venture upstairs at the Gorecki Conference Center to consider an exhibit of several small pieces. “Road Trip,” Barbara Riegel Bend’s paper mache figure on wheels, recycles newspaper, paper bags, old checks and pay stubs to fashion a story about major events in the artist’s life. While the story focuses on the artist’s past, the figure is clearly headed for new adventure. Another paper mache, Suki Zellgart’s “The Heart of the Matter,” conveys the fragility of the earth in a heart-shaped globe. The novel idea of the earth as a vital organ leads me to new and different ways of seeing our world.

Eco Byway runs through Sept. 10. Check it out and send me your thoughts.

A Stroll through the Galleries

Whenever I need a creative burst to shake up my work routine, I take a stroll through one of the art galleries on our campuses.

“Eco Byway,” a regional juried exhibit, features works with an ecological perspective by artists who live or work within 10 miles of the seven-state Interstate-94 corridor. Showing through Sept. 10 in galleries at the Benedicta Arts Center of the College of Saint Benedict and the Saint John’s Art Center, the exhibit includes a range of expression that will delight, challenge, inspire and/or alarm the viewer.

Because my office is located on the SJU campus, I have had the convenience to visit the SJU exhibit several times. I have seen the exhibit at CSB once and plan to continue visiting both exhibits throughout the summer.

Here are my reflections on some of the works at SJU that caught my fancy. I will offer views about the CSB exhibit in my next blog.

In “Beach from Garbage School,” artist Melissa Stang has drawn images of aquatic life on an assortment of plastic debris. The ordinary plastic forks, bottle caps, bags and bottles found in most U.S. households are strewn into a clutter that conveys from the point of view of the fish the end result of our throw-away society.

With contrasting colors, textures and shapes, Heath Matysek-Snyder’s “Silva” offers an appealing bench from which to ponder the exhibits. Reclaimed walnut frames three boxed sets of bamboo stems, standing upright and sheared flush. It’s a splendid combination of form, function and beauty that also inspires contemplation about the materials we choose.

Richard Bresnahan has three pieces from the Johanna kiln. My favorite, a footed platter, resembles a split log. What captures my imagination is the swirl of colors: rich rust, gold, indigo and shimmery silver wisps.

Jason Lanka asks the viewer to consider the line that divides our culture and the land we inhabit, in his mixed-media installation “Reach.” If he intended to scare the viewer, he succeeded. An audio buzzes without ceasing. The sounds grate on the ear, with a harsh mechanical, metallic effect, and they accompany a video that casts an image of vast expanse. Along the horizon, a ribbon of bare trees slashes across a barren landscape of snow-covered flat land and an overcast white sky. Very slowly, a monstrous creature emerges from the horizon and approaches the viewer. He appears both ghostly and ghastly, with Freddy Krueger-like claws dragging the ground. The artist asks the viewer to consider “how we view our relationship with the natural world,” but he sets an ominous tone for that consideration.

Works by Kenneth Steinbach drew my most extreme reactions, from favorite to least favorite. Two wall texts created from buckthorn branches did not intrigue me, although one of them received the audience choice award. Two other works keep me coming back.

In “Memoria Animus: Rainy Lake Series,” the artist uses scrimshaw to create drawings on used elephant ivory piano keys. The drawings depict topographical maps, based on the artist’s memory of wilderness areas he has visited. This piece has layer upon layer of meaning: the prior life of the elephant; the music the instrument once made; the artist’s memory; the loss of wilderness over time. Some of the ivory keys are damaged, like our wilderness and also like our own fragmented memories.

In “Taj,” the artist has applied a geometric pattern from the Taj Mahal onto a shed moose antler from the north woods. Seeking to “impose a rigid mathematical order over the horn’s contours,” Steinbach asks us to “question how our systems of belief … intersect with the natural world.” The effect is striking. Here we have an antler, formerly so useful during the rutting season, transformed by repetitious design into an object of adoration and meditation. It reminds me of animated imagery I have seen used to explain Einstein’s space/time continuum.

I would love to hear from readers about their reactions to the exhibits. Since the artists hope to provoke a conversation about their ideas, I invite readers to visit the exhibit and join me in the conversation.

A tale of two campus bookstores

The high demand item on recent Christmas shopping lists shocked the prognosticators. No one expected the new and complete Mark Twain autobiography to capture the reading public’s imagination, least of all book sellers.

I always buy my husband a book for Christmas. When I heard the critical acclaim for the book, I headed to the CSB/SJU Bookstore to pick up a copy. Turns out the volume’s sales caught everyone by surprise. Ann Jonas and I chatted about the situation. Ann is the general book buyer for the bookstore and my unofficial personal shopper for books.

If you ever want to start a conversation with Ann, ask her what she’s reading, or just finished reading, or planning to read. Ask her anything about books and prepare yourself for a lively conversation.

By the time I got back to my office, Ann had tracked down an available volume. I picked it up the next day. No problem. I should add that this example typifies the friendly and efficient service I experience at the bookstores both at CSB and SJU.

Contrast that with my experience a few weeks later on the East Coast, where my family and I travel each year to spend Christmas with my in-laws. This year, I visited the campus bookstore of a major university, in search of a copy of Don Quixote in Spanish. It was a different experience altogether from what I have come to take for granted on our campuses.

The bookstore is operated by a chain. After browsing a bit, I found a section of novels in Spanish, but no Don Quixote. I checked at the information desk, but no one was staffing it. In fact, I saw no staff at all, except the cashier at the front of the store.

Downstairs, I found another cashier handling textbook buy-backs and asked her if the store had Don Quixote in Spanish. She checked the computer, furrowed her brow, and asked if it was a textbook for a class.

What I wanted to say was this: Don Quixote is not a textbook. Written in the 1600s by Miguel de Cervantes, it is considered the first modern novel and is beloved around the world, if its translations into countless languages are any measure of its popularity.

Instead, what I managed to say in restrained disbelief was this: umm, no, it’s not a textbook.

I chose this option because I had concluded in the time it takes to gasp that the young woman would not appreciate if I launched into a literary rant in the middle of a bookstore. Besides, it would be rude.

The other day, back on campus, I popped into the bookstore to buy a book. Don Forbes, bookstores director, came over to chat. On my way out, I noticed copies of Autobiography of Mark Twain displayed on the best sellers wall. It’s good to be home.

Is Your Glass Half Empty or Half Full?

My colleague Tago Mharapara entertained us at a recent CMS holiday gathering with stories about the First-Year Symposium he teaches. In an effort to provoke discussion about the concept of counter arguments, he had placed a glass half filled with water on his desk and asked the students in his 8 a.m. class to describe what they saw.

Then he waited. And he waited some more. Finally, one groggy student who could stand the silence no longer ventured, “a glass of water.”

“Good,” Tago answered. “What else?”

More silence. Eventually, an enterprising student offered that the glass was half empty.

Both observations were correct, of course. The difference was a matter of perspective.

It was one of those aha! moments teachers live for, and Tago proceeded to lead a discussion about different points of view.

His story prompted me to go around the table asking individuals whether they see the glass half empty or half full.

Greg Hoye said he sees a half-full glass. No surprise there. Greg can find the bright side of a power outage during a blizzard. A fireside, candlelit dinner with tuna tartare would be his first thought. On the flip side, he claimed his wife Roxanne can rattle off the downside of any situation, and there you have it, a well-balanced marriage.

Ben Besasie, our student employee, said he used the half-empty, half-full theme in his bar mitzvah speech. He and the other two students at our table all chose the half-full option. Again, no surprise. They are young and talented, and the world is full of opportunities. My colleague Barbara Hein quipped that she saw the glass as half full when she was their age, but now sees it as half empty.

For Tago – ever the analyst – the answer depends on the circumstances.

As for me, I see a half-full glass, or, as my dear husband said later that evening, a glass overflowing. Fair enough, and I put him in the same category as Roxanne. No downside escapes his notice. There you have it again – another well-balanced marriage. Each partner can see what the other does not.

Both perspectives are necessary to see the whole. That is what we want our students to discover, that what they see depends on perspective and that the perspectives of others have value.

As we lift our glasses in Christmas cheer this holiday season, let us clink a toast to the other’s perspective for the coming year. There is room in the glass for all points of view.