I Understand Houndstooth On A Much Deeper Level Than You

There is an episode of 30 Rock in which Jack and Liz agree that the worst people in the world are graduate students. That quote pops up in my head periodically when I find myself talking someone's ear off about the history of the cage crinoline or archival storage methods, but generally I think I avoid being one of those graduate students.

However, I've noticed one thing that stimulates my over-educated snobbery like nothing else:

This pattern is known as houndstooth. Last semester in my Fiber & Fabrics class we were given a little sample of houndstooth and told to figure out how it is woven. I spent a long time looking at it under magnification and charting what I saw on a piece of graph paper. Eventually, it all clicked and I was the first one in my class to make sense of it. Basically, it is bands of white and black (both vertically and horizontally) meeting in a twill pattern. A twill pattern is where each yarn goes over two and under two (instead of 1/1 as in plain weave). It naturally creates horizontal lines across the fabric. When you have alternating colors you basically end up with a pattern that looks like squares with little diagonal twill tails sneaking out. Here is an excellent picture that I found:

I can sense you glazing over already. Sorry. I'll wrap it up.

Anyway, ever since I had my houndstooth breakthrough, I feel sort of emotionally attached to it. Whenever I see someone wearing it, I think smugly to myself, "that person doesn't understand houndstooth like I do." Things get worse when I see knit houndstooth. You see, the whole point of houndstooth is that it is a clever use of a simple weave structure. Knitting the pattern makes no sense. It is like writing a part in a movie for Tina Fey and then deciding to cast Megan Fox instead. Clearly you have no understanding of the awesomeness of Tina Fey.

So to sum up: now that I am a graduate student, the sight of a patterned scarf fills me with a feeling of moral superiority. Clearly, graduate students are the worst.

Really, American Museum of Natural History? Really!?

I’m not sure if it is a nor’easter or not, but significant snow seems to have finally arrived in New York and classes have been cancelled. So what better thing than to watch the snow fall and write a blog entry?

Well, get ready, because today, I have a bone to pick. Yesterday I visited the American Museum of Natural History and was shocked by how bad and outdated some of their exhibits are. Now, in all fairness I should mention that there are many areas of the museum that have very dynamic, engaging exhibits. The place is huge and I didn’t even make it to some of the most popular areas such as the fossil halls and the planetarium. I did however spend a long time in the “culture halls” and found myself constantly thinking, “Whaaa? Have these exhibits been updated AT ALL in the last 40 YEARS?”

Basically, the ethnographic sections of the museum reek of the old-fashioned “look at these strange people!” exhibits of yore. After walking through a hall of animal dioramas, I entered the Hall of African Peoples, which featured uh…dioramas of African people. There was a sort of unsavory zoo-like feel to these loin-cloth wearing mannequins.

I ended up visiting all of the “culture halls” and continued to notice evidence of outdated ideas. In several of the areas, particularly in the American Indian wings, no dates were listed with any of the artifacts. The implication seemed to be that dates were irrelevant because these cultures weren’t something that changed over time. The format of the exhibits was also very old-fashioned. It really seemed like an assemblage of objects with minimal description and context. There was one label that literally said only “blanket for ceremonies.” The overall effect was alienating, and it was difficult to remain interested in the content. Many of the galleries were deserted, and people seemed to walk through quickly and pause only to take comical photographs with “strange” objects. The exhibits seemed to be based on the assumption that the people visiting were white (there was no “Peoples of Europe” gallery). There was a distinct feeling of being there to learn about some distant “them.”

So seriously, what is your excuse AMNH? By you own assertion you are “one of the world's preeminent scientific and cultural institutions.” You are located in one of the most multicultural cites in the world. How is it possible that you haven’t updated your exhibits? Aren’t you embarrassed?

I can figure only two possible explanations. One is that there might be a fondness felt for these old exhibits. I noticed on the website that the Northwest Coast Indian exhibit is “the museum’s oldest hall” and contains the spoils of an 1897-1902 expedition (this sort of proves my point, right? There was a pretty different worldview in 1902). But if it is the oldest hall, clearly someone somewhere would be splitting their tweed to hear that the museum was planning a re-vamp. Can they really use that excuse though? Education is key to the museum’s mission, so shouldn’t improved scholarship trump old-timey charm?

The other explanation is probably money. A complete revamp of all of the “culture halls” would cost millions. I shelled out $18 at the student rate which seemed exorbitant to me (feeling robbed already I refused the $2 coat check and hauled an armful of winter layers around the museum for three hours), but I realize that $18 is a drop in the bucket when you consider the personnel and facility needs of such a large museum. Even so, they clearly have resources, and good quality exhibits are essential for a world-class museum. Besides, aren’t there government agencies and private granting institutions that wet themselves with excitement when someone wants money for cultural awareness? You really can’t scrape up any cash to make non-Eurocentric, 21^st century ethnographic exhibits?

REALLY, AMERICAN MUSEUM OF NATURAL HISTORY? REALLY!?

Whew. Glad I got that out of my system. I need to return to my rigorous schedule of staring out the window and petting kitties.

Vocabulary Word of the Week: Nor'easter

On Thursday I overheard some of my classmates talking about how a huge nor'easter was heading our way this weekend. When I asked what they were talking about they laughed. After a few moments they realized I was serious, so they explained that it was a kind of major storm that occurs on the east coast. Since I had already been laughed at once, I refrained from my follow up questions which were: What exactly is the word you are saying? Are you trying to say "north eastern"? If so, why aren't you just saying that? Is there a deeper issue here?

When got home I googled my best guess as to what that world actually was, and much to my surprise "nor'easter" is an actual thing. Like, you can use in in a sentence and everything.

So then I got kind of excited. I'm going to experience a nor'easter like a real north easterner! I am battling a cold, so I stocked up on groceries and dreamed of a snowed-in weekend curled up on the couch with the cats and a box of kleenex. But the nor'easter (perhaps insulted by my west coast enthusiasm?), decided to head out to sea once its business was done with Washington D.C.. We got a sprinkling of snow, but not enough to make me feel justified for staying indoors all weekend. So I went out and took a couple of pictures.

Prospect Park

A view of my apartment building from Prospect Park

Back in New York

Ever since taking my cross-country train trip it has amazed me how short the same journey is via airplane. Last Thursday I woke up in Seattle, sat on a 6 hour flight, and arrived in New York just as the sun was setting. It seemed too easy somehow. During the first few days back I felt like I was in a daze. I knew I was physically in Brooklyn, but my thoughts were constantly drifting back to Seattle. Being on break was wonderful, but it was difficult too. It reminded me of all the wonderful bonds I share with people who aren’t with me in New York.

The nice thing about coming back was how logistically easier it was than my arrival in August. I walked off the plane, hopped on the subway, and got off at my usual stop. When I made it to my apartment all I had to do was fish out my keys and turn the lock. And behold! I have a bed, a desk, a set of clothes, and an entire life set up and ready to go. All the New York habits came back to me as if they were natural. Within the first 24 hours I was riding the subway, cooking with cheap ingredients from Trader Joe’s, and watching weird Netflix movies with my roommate.

I didn’t feel like I was doing anything with much energy though. On Sunday I went to the Frick Museum—which has been on my to-do list forever—and only stayed for a short time before going home to take a nap. With no homework and no commitments, I should have taken advantage of my free time and explored the city. But all I wanted to do was write in my journal and chat with friends online.

Luckily, today, I had my first class of the semester. I was apprehensive about the return to school mode, but the day really energized me. Seeing my classmates again made the dark, bathroomless graduate hallway seem warm and happy. I went out for coffee with one of the women in my program, and came back to gab about Cranford and Young Victoria with another. In class, we were handed what we knew would be one of the biggest assignments of the program—a semester-long exhibit design project. But, as daunting as it sounded, I felt eager to start. While the professor gave a brief lecture on the history of museums I started thinking “YEAH! MUSEUMS! GRAD SCHOOL! AWESOME!” I imagined the activities of the term set to a Rocky-esq “Eye of the Tiger” montage: me taking vigorous notes at museums, me carefully re-sewing a torn historical garment, and me insightfully analyzing a primary source.

Okay, so maybe CLARA : THE MOVIE wouldn't make a good action film, but I'm feeling pretty good. Phase II of grad school—Bring it on!

Things I miss in New York

I’ve been back in Seattle for a month now, and one question I’ve gotten a number of times is, “is it weird to be back?” Besides the fact that I’ve living with my parents rather than my old apartment, I’ve basically just gone back to my old Seattle life. I’ve been hanging out with my regular crowd of friends, interning at MOHAI, and even singing with my old choir. It should feel weird, but instead seems quite normal. In fact, it sometimes feels like New York was a strange dream. I think to myself “hey, wait…didn’t I move to the east coast and start grad school?”

Part of me is concerned that I won’t be ready to leave Seattle. I have so many things that I want to do and hours of quality time I have yet to spend with people here. So, recently I’ve been trying to keep a running list of things that I am excited to get back to.

1. Egg Bagels. Egg Bagels Everywhere.

About a week ago I spent the night on the couch at my old apartment (see comments below about the bus system and not wanting to go home late at night). Having had a bit to drink, and knowing that I would be hung over and hungry the next morning, I feel asleep dreaming of the perfect breakfast snack. For whatever reason, I decided that when I woke up I needed to eat a bagel with cheese and egg on it. But when I did actually wake up, I couldn’t think of where to find such a thing. Of course in New York, if there isn’t a place with bagels on your block, the bagel and coffee street vendor is sure to show up in your hour of need. Plus, in a rare exception to the “New York is expensive” rule, said shop or cart will probably only charge you $1.99 for putting an egg on a bagel. I realized that there was a Noah’s Bagels on Capitol Hill, but I also remembered that a bagel with something other than butter on cream cheese would probably cost around $5. So, at the intersection of exhausted and irrational, I woke up wanting to scream “WHY ISN’T THERE A CART FULL OF EGG BAGELS RIGHT OUTSIDE THIS DOOR?”

2. Litter-trained kitties!

One thing I have not posted much about yet is the fact that in late November two cats moved into my apartment. They were previous resident’s of my roommate’s father’s house, and John had told me they were coming before I moved in. Lulu is just past middle age, and Coco is well into retirement. They stroll leisurely around the apartment rather than scampering or stalking, and sleep determinedly in the same spots day after day. Whenever one of them was on my lap or purring nearby, I would think about how happy I was to have cats in my life. Then the moment would end when I would get a whiff of poop from the adjoining room.

Coco and Lulu were previously outdoor/indoor cats that apparently did most of their business outdoors. John was aware that litter training might be an issue for them, and sure enough it was. Coco got it right most of the time, but Lulu just cycled through a few favorite spots in John’s room. Between keeping my bedroom door closed and watching where I stepped, I managed to avoid any physical contact with their various gifts. Even so, the smell made life difficult. No matter how much you love cats, when you come home after a long day your heart does not leap for joy to be greeted by the scent of poop. John assured me that this was still a trial period, and if the cats couldn’t learn better habits they would go back to their previous home. I was torn on whether or not I hoped they would go. I was obsessed with cats as a child, and firmly believe that “crazy cat lady” will describe me in my later years. How could I possibly prefer living without cats to living with cats? But, the reality was that I was spending a lot of time in my room hiding from the smell.

Before I left, John announced that he would use my absence to try a few things and see if he couldn’t turn the situation around. He informed me that he was in contact with a “litter expert” who specialized in this kind of thing. I begged to know if this person had business cards or letterhead that said “litter expert.” Personalized stationary or not, the "litter expert" must be the real deal. I’ve heard twice now from John to say that the cats are joyfully making excrement deposits in all the proper places. I hope this is true, and am excited to spend a new semester enjoying more benefits than downsides to cat companionship.

3. A comprehensive city-wide subway system.

Look, Seattle busses really aren’t that bad, and my experience with the NY subway system has proven it isn’t perfect either (my main line in and out of Manhattan is the aptly named F train, which enjoys stopping in the tunnel for no reason and closing on weekends). My biggest frustration with the Seattle busses has been service at night. After the evening rush hour many busses stop running or only show up every hour. Plus, in order to get to my parent’s house I have to transfer in the U. District, which is sketchy once the sun goes down. Even if it wasn’t the U. District, I don’t relish the idea of waiting for a bus on some lonely street corner late at night.

In New York, the subways run less frequently at night, but they never stop service. In fact, I think that more people ride the subway at 2am than 2pm. Once you get on the train that will take you home, there is something strangely comforting about the subway. I like how it rocks slowly back and forth as I count down the remaining stops. If I can, I get a spot where I can gaze out the window. My train goes above ground for two stops. On one side you get a view of downtown Brooklyn and a few of the tallest points in Manhattan. On the other side is a glimpse of the water and the Statue of Liberty. Day after day, I still haven’t gotten tired of the view. For some reason it reminds me more than anything: “Wow, I live in New York.”

End of Semester Wrap-Up

Wow. I had forgotten how great the time change is going east to west. My plane left New York in the late afternoon and arrived in Seattle when it was still early in the evening. I woke up at 6:30 am today feeling better rested and more awake than I have been in weeks. I mean, I am chipper, and even my morning-loving parents are giving me that “can’t you dial it down a notch?” look. But I can't keep it in! The semester is over and I’m back in Seattle for an extended winter break. And if you aren’t in a good mood, here is something to fill you with holiday cheer:

That would be a picture of my mysterious unknown fiber. Isn’t it beautiful? When silk comes out of a silkworm there are two strands (or “brins”) attached together with a coating. Usually the coating is removed and the strands are separated, but sometimes the silk is left raw like this. This is what it looks like! Merry Christmas!

Doesn't do it for ya? How about this:

Festive.

So, apparently I just finished my first term of grad school. It is pretty hard to believe. Four months ago I couldn’t tell a warp from a weft. Now I’m that annoying girl who wants to tell you about the weave structure of your coat. I’ve already tried to bring up the significance of the cage crinoline at a party, and I spent part of Thanksgiving dinner staring intently at my aunt’s napkins. As planned, grad school has added rich, nuanced levels to my nerdyness.

But how have I progressed as a New Yorker? Now that I will be gone from my new city for about six weeks, I have to wonder if I will miss it. Have I grown attached to New York, or am I just going through the motions? It is hard to say. I’ve met a lot of wonderful people, but I can’t say I’ve made any close friends. I’ve been up to the Cloisters and down to the financial district, yet I feel like I only really know the blocks between FIT and my subway stop. I’ve enjoyed New York pizza, hot dogs, and bagels, but I still find myself wondering why there aren’t Pho places on every corner.

In some ways, I feel like there must be two New Yorks: the famous one (as seen TV and film) and the one where I live. I live in the every day New York. The one where I get on the F train every morning and stare ahead stoically when it gets delayed. One where the bright lights of Times Square are just a distant glow I notice on my way home. One where weekend evenings are spent watching Project Runway DVDs on the couch with my roommate and his cats.

Terrifying moments in grad school history

I haven't written anything in almost a month, I know. This end of semester stuff seems to be going on forever. Tomorrow I have a big exam that the whole class is rightfully terrified about. During our review session last week the following occurred:

Professor: Ok, here is a dress you haven't seen before. Date it.

Me: 1880s?

Professor: You are not in grad school to say "1880s." Give me a year.

*gulp*