Zach's U Rock Blog Archives
If you missed one of Zach's blog entries, past blogs are archived by date below:
New Blog: January 12th, 2010
During the winter break, I finished a few stories. Two have already been accepted, so I’ll shamelessly link to both stories when they make their online debut.
To bide my time before publication, I’d like to show you this:
This is a Cornell Box, developed by the late Joesph Cornell. He was famous for gathering seemingly random trinkets, newspaper clippings and other found objects to create cohesive, multi-layered pieces of art. My personal favorite is the box that pours sand into a broken wine glass. This box must be turned upside-down every time the sand finishes pouring.
My fall Art class tried their hand at Cornell boxes. Some students took their boxes with them (sadly, I didn’t take any pictures of those—I was between cameras at the time.) Others left their boxes on display.
Above is my box with all the trinkets removed and the lid closed. The loose theme I developed was the relationship between novelists and comic books, a meeting of “high” and “low” art. So around the box, we see titles of novels and stories that deal with these two elements. For example, Fortress of Solitude is a book about a boy growing up in 1970’s Brooklyn, an era drenched in the imagery of Marvel Comics. “The Rememberer” is a superhero story written by acclaimed novelist J. Robert Lennon.
Like Cornell, who often cut out his favorite book passages to provide a background for his box, I utilized a draft of another story of mine, “Off-Panel”, about a comic book writer who struggles between writing heroic romps and his desire to work on more mature projects. To give the pages an aged, yellowed look I soaked four pages in lukewarm tea and let the pages dry over an afternoon. Next I’ll go over the trinkets…
Writers/Novels
I included books or authors that tied into my theme of blending “high” and “low” art. Like I said above, Lethem (with the shades) uses comic book and pop culture concepts to explore loss and desire. Aimee Bender is a fantastic short story writer whose writing has the feel of modern fairy tales. I also included two of J. Robert Lennon’s books: Mailman because of its pop art cover, and Pieces for the Left Hand because of the quirkiness of the 100 tales within.
Artists/Heroes
Here are Batgirl and Catwoman, two female superheroes that have been poorly written in the past (much like female artists and writers in the comic book industry) along with two male superheroes placed in the Box solely to showcase the talents of Alex Ross. The artist (with the curly hair) is Jill Thompson, an illustrator who, like Aimee Bender, brings whimsy to her work.
Other trinkets
Collected here are…
· A fading Batman pin my girlfriend gave me…
· a ring wrong by the Green lantern, a kind of space patrolman…
· a charm my parents gave me 16 years ago. Superman wishes me luck…
· and my favorite item, a miniature copy of Stephen King’s Hearts in Atlantis which concerns a boy who notices the otherworldly creeping into his quiet suburban life.
I taped each image to cardboard squares. Here’s the box, assembled:
Enjoy yourselves this semester.
- Zachary Cole -
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Blog Eight
November 12, 2009
In honor of the Maine Literary Festival (which I attended this Saturday), I’ve decided to do something different for this blog. To wit:
IN THE SIXTH ROW
Sitting alone in a padded seat
Behind a woman exuding perfume
I watch poets explain, define their craft.
I am not one of them
Iambic pentameter and rhythm elude me still
This is why I listen
A series of rattles from another row
Deep breathing
An unseen old man retrieves bottled oxygen.
Under harsh lights these men and women
From Maine, the Midwest, the Left Coast
share their stories, sitting as I am
jotting down notes, as I am
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Blog the Seventh
October 29th, 2009
Supertramp
I wish I’d thought to bring a camera along, but this week I watched Into the Wild with an audience, as part of U Rock’s film series.
The film concerns Chris McCandless, a young college graduate from a dysfunctional household. Chris was desperate to escape modern society and to find himself within the wilderness. He roamed the country for a time, working jobs in grain elevators and fast food joints. The entire time, he nurtured a fascination with Alaska. Chris continued to wander, eventually meeting a hippie couple and spending time in a communal society known as “the slabs”. McCandless wanted to be entirely alone, a “supertramp” living off the land in an area that was, for all intents and purposes, a blank spot on the map. The film depicts his struggles to survive in the wild after finding an abandoned bus in the Alaskan bush. After 113 days in the wild, McCandless died. When moose hunter found his body two weeks later, he weighed less than 70 pounds.
There’s a fair amount of controversy about the film and its source material, the 1996 book by Jon Krakauer; namely, how the film projects the last few months of McCandless’s life. Both the movie, directed by Sean Penn, and Krakauer speculate that McCandless accidently consumed moldy potato seeds that made it hard for him to digest food properly. They suggest that Chris became weak suddenly, then found himself unable to escape by crossing the nearby roaring river. According to the film, McCandless had no map to guide him, and had shed himself of all money and forms of identification (leading some detractors to believe that McCandless was on a suicide mission.) However, newer evidence indicates that McCandless did in fact hold onto his map and all of his identification (including three library cards) along with three hundred dollars in cash, suggesting that he did plan an eventual return to society. Additionally, there’s been no indication that “moldy seeds” were a factor in his demise.
There are many tragic elements to Chris’s story; the fact that he never got the chance to speak to his sister once he fled; his idealistic insistence on not bringing essential equipment and supplies, like a compass, that could’ve saved his life. In addition, McCandless never discovered a manually-operated tram less than a half-mile from the bus, which he could’ve potentially used to navigate the deadly river. And, of course, if he’d been able to hold on for two more weeks he would’ve been saved by the moose hunters.
Some websites about McCandless wonder what exactly happened to him in those final months. Did he starve to death simply because there wasn’t enough food? Did he sustain some sort of shoulder or leg injury that made escape virtually impossible? We may never get all the answers. Besides the evidence found on the bus and subsequent autopsy reports, park rangers found rolls of undeveloped film which show McCaandless posing in front of the bus, along with other images of the small game he killed. The last image in the roll is heartbreaking; we see an emaciated McCandless smiling for the camera, his hand in the middle of a weak wave. He’s holding a farewell message to his family, but the words are impossible to make out.
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Blog the Sixth
September 21st, 2009
New Addition
For those of you who haven’t ventured down the new hallway, here’s a look at what you’re missing:
This wall showcases artwork created by students taking this fall’s 2-D design course. This assignment had students constructing abstract images using only black paper on a white sheet. As one of the students in that course, I can say that it’s both flattering, and a little unnerving, you see you amateur work pinned up for the entire student body to gawk at.
This is the latest VC, or videoconference, room at the college. I like that the room is smaller, more intimate than the usual setup, due in large part to the funky orange sherbet colored wall. Sometimes the other VC rooms can feel cold and too large, especially if your VC class has only three students, in a classroom with eight seats.
Next up is Room 414, the newest live classroom. The room is simply massive, with a wide berth between rows (a common problem in any classroom is pumping your neighbor’s stuff and knocking their books to the floor.) Also, I think that 414 has slightly better acoustics then some of the other rooms.
Last we have the new, additional student lounge with computers, a printer and chairs. I like how different this space feels from the other lounge—it slightly removed, and will hopefully be a heaven for folks who need a quieter place to read and work on their paper.
That’s all for now. I’ll be posting updates on the Art Wall every now and then, so keep an eye out.
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Blog the Fifth
September 1st, 2009
Inside the Institute
“You’re here for the lecture?”
This was the question posed to one bleary-eyed young man (read: me) one early Wednesday morning last month, as I sat in the Institute for Global Ethics lobby. The space wasn’t all that different from our lobby here at U Rock—occasional wooden columns jutted out from walls painted in solid colors. One major difference with this lobby was that, across from the receptionist’s desk and the enormous blue vase sitting atop it, an enormous map of the world had been spread across one wall.
I can’t remember my exact response to the question, but I’m sure it was incomprehensible. I’d slept less than three hours the night before (attaining rest on a muggy night is like skiing in South Carolina) and wasn’t sure what exactly I was doing there. The office had informed students that the Institute was looking for students who could attend an upcoming lecture to be filmed by the Maine Media Workshop. I’d read the first chapter of How Good People Make Tough Choices: Resolving the Dilemmas of Ethical Living written by the Institute’s founder, Rushworth Kidder. I’d been intrigued by the book’s premise of “right vs. right”, as opposed to “right vs. wrong”, ethical dilemmas, but didn’t know what exactly this lecture would entail. Or, more importantly, where it was being held.
Someone from the Institute ( a serious journalist, I never once asked for names) led me down the narrow hallway beyond their lobby. In a cluttered cubicle, one sheet of computer paper with my name on it, was printed out. Outside the cubicle I slipped past a few chatting participants. At the end of the hallway I saw the lecture room, and couldn’t help but notice that the layout wasn’t much different from our VC classrooms, right down to the gray carpet and padded swivel chairs. The camera crew was checking their sound and audio levels, so as Mr. Kidder ran some of his opening remarks through a dry run, I tried to find a seat (where I was to sit was an ongoing melodrama best saved for another blog.)
The group that had gathered to listen (and, as I would soon learn, to participate) in Kidder’s lecture was diverse and included a local schoolteacher, a social worker, a financial advisor and the university’s Bob Baker, who will be teaching his own Ethics course this fall. After the film crew finished checking their equipment, Mr. Kidder introduced himself and asked all those present to share a little about themselves; each participant explained how they dealt with ethical dilemmas all the time. I wasn’t sure I could make such a claim (there’s no dilemma in providing death metal enthusiasts with a pair of office headphones) but Kidder insisted that students must also deal with these issues in their day-to-day operations.
As for the lecture itself, I’m afraid that I’d only do Mr. Kidder a disservice by trying to summarize everything that he and our group went over during our three-hour session, but I can say that we tried to better understand dilemmas of “right vs. right.” To use one example, think back to when President Ford pardoned Richard Nixon. At the time, Ford’s decision was met with a great deal of controversy—after all, wasn’t a presidential pardon setting precedent, essentially saying that a Chief Executive could commit any number of crimes without fear of prosecution? However, in recent decades many have asserted have the Nixon pardon finally lifted a dark shroud that had been hanging over Washington since the Woodward and Bernstein articles became a part of our public consciousness. This was a case of “right vs. right”—it was “right” for Ford to sign the pardon, since it was within the powers given to him by the office, and he had thought-out and rational reasons to react as he did. However, it would’ve been just as “right” for him to have none nothing and let the congressional investigations run their course. The examples that both Kidder and some group members (many of which were fraught with emotion) gave during the lecture were similar in terms of ethical quandaries, but more personal (lying to parents with Alzheimer's so that they’ll enter a nursing came up more than once.)
I hope that, if these type of dilemmas are interesting to you, you’ll be able to track down some of Kidder’s work. His book is still available at the front office, and there’s more information to be found at the Institute’s website, globalethics.org. The lessons there can be applied to many more places than a think tank lecture.
(Currently reading Predictably Irrational by Dan Ariely)
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Blog the Fourth--The Learned and the Learners
July 23th, 2009
I’ve been under the eye of one teacher for most of my life; my father has worked in public and private schools for nearly a decade, and when I was in third grade he asked if I wanted to attend the Riley School, a private place of learning near the Samoset Resort. I didn’t hesitate before saying yes—simply put, I hated my school and especially my teacher that year, who was very strict in regards to who was allowed to get drinks from the water fountain during class. Three months after the end of third grade I was a private school student, attending the very same institution that my parents had attempted to enroll me into when I turned five. We’d been denied because my parents weren’t exactly rolling in dough.
There was a downside, though, to attending a carefree, relaxed school with winding dirt trails between buildings and a horse the other kids always wanted a ride: namely, that I couldn’t escape my father. I saw him in the morning during his class, at lunchtime when he drove me home so that we could eat in the kitchen, and I’d often have to wait at least an hour after classes ended as I father sat in on administrative meeting. I remember lying in the middle of a giant hammock in the woods, being able to just make out the bumper of my father’s vintage red box of a car, bored out of my skull the entire time. I also remember spending winter afternoons in the headmaster’s driveway with the car radio on, watching listlessly as snow filled the air outside.
Later on, as my temperament transformed from that of an easily-distracted child into the lazy rebellious state of any whiny adolescent, I tried to break away from my teacher father in minor, silly ways. I remember skipping out of school entirely one Friday afternoon, time that was reserved for special activities like clay sculpture, and instead hung out with friends at the cemetery a few hundred feet away. In a more brazen move, I once skipped a Photo class. I don’t know why I thought my presence would go unnoticed, seeing as how it was a class my father taught.
I’ve grown up a bit since then, and I’ve seen my father start his own business, showcase his work in galleries around the state, and help students and adults alike in a public school setting. In that same time, I left Riley, grumbled my through one year of middle school, graduated high school and enrolled here at U Rock. Now, all these years later, I can appreciate the struggles a teacher, no matter what the age of her or his students, has to go through. I think it’s easy for some students to see teachers as nothing more than automatons who have no life and no ambition outside the classroom, beyond handing out difficult assignment and chiding students who are too rambunctious. But every day for most of my adolescence, I was taught by a good teacher who also happened to be a patient father.
(Just finished reading the excellent and inventive Everything Matters!, by Ron Currie, Jr.)
Original photo by Herbert J. Cole
Copy of original photo by Elizabeth Cole
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Blog the Third—Classroom Etiquette
There are ways in which U Rock differs from your traditional college campus. For instance, we’re on the fourth floor. Another difference is the myriad of ways in which students here can take courses. There are traditional classroom courses, where the instructor is right in front of you, sometimes so close that you can smell the instant coffee they’ve been sipping ever since they dashed into the room with two dozen Xeroxed copies of Norwegian poetry. But the college also offers ITV courses (for those new to the arrangement, imagine a small room with a flat screen television, three long desks and a wireless telephone) and Videoconference, or VC courses, which make you feel like an ad man talking up Hong Kong clients. However, these new technologies (along with the fact that some U Rockers haven’t been in a classroom setting for quite some time) present their own challenges. Chief among them being how to sit inside a classroom without thoroughly annoying everyone. Since I’ve been both the annoyed and the annoyer, I’d thought I’d give a few pointers to those returning to the classroom this fall, or those who secretly fear that they give their classmates migraines.
TRADITIONAL CLASSROOM
There’s a phenomenon in just every classroom on the planet: any time a teacher steps out, the room erupts in frenzied conversation. It’s similar, I’m sure, to what happens when Kim Jong Il leaves his palace to find funds for Pulgasari 2. “What a buffoon!” his security detail must guffaw. “Dear Leader’s got the hair of a Chia Pet!”
I’m not saying that there’s anything wrong with blowing off a little steam when the professor needs to re-fill his Hannaford cup, but it’s somewhat annoying to be surrounded by twenty cackling schoolmates when you’re trying to remember what she said about the Cicero Riots. Yes, we know that the professor has a lazy eye. No, I’m not interested in the fact that your niece had a live birth and that you personally filmed it. Yes, I do understand what the heck this lady is talking about.
Ahem.
Another pet peeve is when a bottle of bubbly sugar water (or “soda”, in the popular vernacular) is left opened, just to the left or right of the soda-purchaser’s hands. If you’re prone to wild gesticulations, might it be a good idea to keep that one liter bottle of “Mountain Dew: Code Red” out of your sphere of influence? A few turns of the cap can save your shirt, the carpet, and your classmates’ Trapper Keeper.
VIDEOCONFERENCE
One great aspect of VC is that it allows Rockland students to get in touch with professors and other students in Bath, Belfast, Augusta, Ellsworth, and other centers around the state. By pressing a button on the microphones strategically placed around the table, students can either “go live”, letting any conferencing classroom around the state hear their discussion, or mute themselves, so as not to disrupt their far-flung classmates.
That last part is especially important. If you’re planning to take your first VC course this fall, I highly recommend familiarizing yourself with the mic setup as soon as possible. I can’t tell you how many times an insightful VC lecture has been interrupted by a student from another site accidentally leaving their mic on. It’s hard to take notes on efficient methods of recycling when Harlene from Brunswick is loudly organizing her papers, and then (by the sound of things) shredding those papers by hand. While jugging an annoyed cat. When the “mic” icon on the bottom of the screen is crossed out, that means you’re off, free to juggle and tear to your heart’s content. You’re welcome.
ITV
I speak as an amateur here, since I’ve only taken one ITV class, a course on American Government. It was beamed out of Fort Kent, which is over 255 miles away and would take five hours to reach by car. There are some real advantages to this format—if you enjoy peace and quiet (like a certain blog-writing English major) then this may be the way to go—there’s rarely more than two or three people in ITV rooms, giving you plenty of space to spread out your notebooks and snacks (but no uncapped bottles, remember?). The downside, as I see it, is communication. The only way to reach an ITV professor is by calling the phone number that’s occasionally provided on-screen. This isn’t quite as complicated as it sounds, but if you forget to mute the TV before the call, you end up hearing your own voice wobble out of the television speakers on a four-second delay. The echo is impressive, but not very conducive to learning.
We can all be better students, and we can certainly spill less bubbly sugar water.
(Currently reading Batman: Inferno, by Alex Irvine)
Photos by Steve Heddericg
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Blog the Second--BOOKLAND
June 22, 2009
Earlier today, I watched a troupe of trained lifters carry large, bulky shelves out of the Breakwater Marketplace. Their business had nothing to do with the college—the shelves being removed had been sitting in the same place for over a year now, hidden from the sun at most hours. I spotted the movers brushing thick coats of dust from the shelves; enough, I’m betting, to flare up somebody’s allergies.
These discarded shelves used to display literary novels, cooking manuals, and thin coloring guides. They used to showcase puzzle books, glossy heavy metal magazines, and role playing manuals. I’m sure many students miss the Breakwater Bookland store. Bookland was something of an anomaly in Rockland. For most of its time in business, Bookland housed a café where students could buy sandwiches, coffee or (most importantly) Italian soda. And I’m sure at least some students bought the occasional sweet from the displays the store oh-so-subtlety placed just in front of the cash registers. Most of all, Bookland was a place where students could unwind—I remember many times when my course schedule had me at the college form for most of the day. If I needed an hour to study or just wanted to get away from the fourth floor, Bookland’s couches and bean bags beckoned. And on a nerdy level, the store introduced this bibliophile to talented scribblers like Michael Chabon, Jonathan Lethem and Colson Whitehead.
So as the moving truck pulled out the parking lot, I couldn’t help but wonder what will become of that gutted space. There was brief but titillating scuttlebutt (more like wishful thinking by some avid-reading locals) that a similar bookstore would fill the real estate void. Others I’ve spoken to have expressed interest in any place that will serve caffeinated drinks and fattening foods (I’m in!) Anything’s better than empty shelves.
(Currently reading, among other things, Drood by Dan Simmons)
Photos by Steve Heddericg
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Blog the First
June 4, 2009
Hey everybody. I guess I should explain the changes around these parts—my name is Zachary Cole, and I’m taking over Tina’s blog here at the college (not by force—Tina graduated this year.) I’ve been taking classes in this college system since the Thomaston days (and sometimes biked from Rockland to get to class, which was perilous when I was forced to travel down Old County, hoping I didn’t get flattened by some inattentive truck driver) and am the very model of a modern English major. This year, I’ve started volunteering here; you might’ve seen me hunched over a keyboard in the Computer Lab as an assistant, or reminding students to not print off twenty copies of the same document. In addition to taking courses and volunteering here, I’m an aspiring writer who just saw one of his stories released (with a couple of small errors—my bad) in the latest UMA Scholar, which can easily be found in the U Rock lobby (plug!)
In these blogs, I’d like to give you guys/gals a little insight as to what the campus is like during the summer, when most of you are working, taking care of kids and relatives, or just enjoying the ridiculously warm weather (lately there’s been a pattern of sweltering days and shiver-inducing nights.)
First off, any student is able to use the computers here, even when they’re not taking classes. If the Computer Lab’s door is open, you’re more than welcome to set your stuff down and pound at the keys to your heart’s content. The same goes for the almost-always-on computer just outside the lobby, and the computers in the lounge. I close the campus on Tuesday and Thursday evenings, and I start shutting off lights and machinery at around 9:40 p.m. or so. This means that, if it’s 9:15 on one of these days and you need one of the computers here but are convinced that it’s too late, you’re welcome to come on up to the fourth floor and do what you need to do.
The atmosphere at U Rock is quite a bit different here than in the spring. For the most part, it’s quieter—fewer classes equals less chatter, less mouse-clicking, and less cell phones playing the opening bars of Born to be Wild (to be fair, I made that last part up.) Of course, all this changes when there’s a placement test—getting students signed in, and in front their respective tests, can either be a breeze (if there’s only three test-takers) or a flurry of activity (if there’s, say, eleven test-takers and a new password to memorize.) You can find any information about placement tests and the like by calling the office.
That’s all from me. I’ll try updating this blog on a regular basis with more observations and comments about goings-on at the University College at Rockland.
(Currently reading Consider the Lobster, by David Foster Wallace)
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