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March 2019

Skirt Variations.

I am skirting the issue. I should be writing about the politics of war, but my head would explode. Let’s turn to the interesting people department instead. Given that it is Women’s History month, I’ll start with a 19th century poet and union leader attuned to skirts.

The Skirt Machinist

I am making great big skirts 
For great big women— 
Amazons who’ve fed and slept
Themselves inhuman. 
Such long skirts, not less than two 
And forty inches. 
Thirty round the waist for fear 
The webbing pinches. 
There must be tremendous tucks 
On those round bellies. 
Underneath the limbs will shake
Like wine-soft jellies. 
I am making such big skirts
And all so heavy, 
I can see their wearers at 
A lord-mayor’s levee. 
I, who am so small and weak 
I have hardly grown, 
Wish the skirts I’m making less 
Unlike my own.


By Lesbia Harford

StitchesbyHB7’s Paris Skirt

Lesbia Harford was an Australian poet, lawyer and labor activist. Her father abandoned the family after bankruptcy, her mother toiling to get the 4 young siblings fed and educated. Harford was one of the first women to get a law degree at Melbourne University in 1915, where she became interested in the politics of class relations as well as feminism. She decided to work in the garment factories to understand truly the conditions of working class life, particularly among women. Despite having congenitally defective heart valves which made physical labor difficult, she went on to become a leader of the Industrial Workers of the World (IWW) around 1916.

She was openly bisexual, often in polyamorous relationships, and radically honest in her poetry around feminine issues that would not be discussed in public. She died from tuberculosis at age 36, her last years of life tortured by illness and dependency.

The poem struck me as both anguished and angry. Here is this small person, overwhelmed by the weight of the production task, metaphorically as well as literally. Stunted, she sews for women who are clearly of a different class, unrestrained in their consumption, free to eat and rest. Yet even these Amazon-sized women are burdened by the weight of heavy skirts, jelly-like limbs prohibiting escape.

Heaviness even when the contraptions of previous eras – the crinolines, the farthingales, the petticoats – were long abandoned. Skirt length and materials varied across time, of course, not least affected by the economics of any given era. If you look at shapes and lengths in relation to war vs. peace times, for example, you find straight correlations, with skimped materials when times are hard. Length also, eventually, became a means of protest and liberation – the mini skirts of the 1960s the most famous example.

***

Skirts were on my mind for a number of reasons. I had read about a woman who collected woolen skirts for decades from Midwestern thrift stores, up until she was 89. For the next 10 years – Audrey Huset lived until her 99th birthday – the collection of over 1000 vintage skirts was stashed in cartons in a garage. Her granddaughter, artist Mae Colburn, started to archive them in 2022, with the help of her parents, professors of costume design and photography, respectively. They sorted them according to a range of colors, plaids, and silhouettes – here is the link to the digital archive where you can be amazed at the collection.

I try to wrap my head around the motivation: how can you accumulate so much stuff, without even using the garments? Then again, I can just see the joy of the hunt, the glory of a find of an unusual specimen, the hope that these will make some warm recycled rugs in the future, the physical pleasure of touching woven wool of that period (much denser and of higher quality than what we see today.) A passion that gets you out of the house and in contact with people into your high eighties…still. Collectors are a mystery to me.

***

Then another skirt appeared on my screen. An expert knitter, designer and dancer had shared the instructions for a voluminous, long skirt she called the Paris skirt, and asked her 35.000 subscribers on Instagram (or anyone else) to knit along. There was a huge resonance, an exploding array of pictures posted of the variations generated by knitters across the globe. A new community instantly created, although I have asked myself how people who have not been knitting for ages, could afford to participate.

The pattern is not difficult. The materials required, on the other hand, are prohibitively expensive, if you do not already own a stash of remnant wool accumulated across many former projects. The mohair wool, for example, costs an average of $30 or so for 50 grams, which give you some 500 yards (the project requires over 2700 yards for larger sizes, and that does not account for knitting with double or triple strands that give the skirt some heft and bounces on the bottom.) Five different sizes of circular knitting needles required: the largest alone, US 13 mm, costs easily $27. If you had to start from scratch you could spend $300 or more, for a homemade skirt!

But again, the use of leftover materials is a sustainable practice, and the making of your own clothes a political act. Add a community that derives a sense of connectedness from the shared experience, and you have truly accomplished something. The designer herself considers knitting a form of resistance.

***

Then a book appeared in the mail, a gift from a friend who rightly anticipated my pleasure of receiving it. Loosely bound in recycled (and strangely fragrant) jeans material, it is titled Fav Pieces of, followed by some 50 names of people from across the globe. Let’s ignore the fact that the choice of font, an illegible page of contents, and an occasionally tortured introduction trying to provide intellectual heft, all scream for attention. It is, after all, published by Thaddaeus Ropac Publisher of Modern Art. (I did not yet see the book on their publications website.)

Let’s focus instead on the fabulous idea of editors Frauke von Jaruntowski and Gerhard Andraschko Sorgo, to collect essays from people with various backgrounds about their favorite piece of clothing or other adornments. And admire the range of images provided with the design, including portraits of items, owners, or both, and some contextual pictures that are meaningful, ranging from laypersons’ snapshots to serious photography.

The essays make us think about our relationship to clothes and, in turn, the ways beauty norms, body image, experienced gaze, memory, class conformity, politics, moods as well as our yearnings, influence our consumerism – or our rejection of it.

It is a fascinating read, if only for the comparison between explanatory attempts. Some people reveal intensely private information, others block with superficial description. Multiple owners describe how the item makes them feel internally for its own relevance, history or associations. Several emphasize how a given piece allows them to create a persona projected outwards. A few discuss the relevance of fashion in their lives, yet others the need for comfort, rather than public effect. Some are eloquently descriptive of beauty, others refer but to function.

Oversharing, reticence, courage to expose vulnerability, vanity, strategic self positioning, thoughtful introspection, or simple autobiographical anecdotes – all can be found between two covers.

Only two skirts made the list. One is from an exchange between designers, a hand-stitched, non-traditional patchwork quilt in return for hand painted plates. The essay informs about the history of Scottish tartans, symbol for traditional Clans. It then turns to lovely interpretation of the possible meaning of patch-worked remnants, creating a style that belongs to all. A Mix-and-Match Clan for a rootless citizenry, a remix overcoming divisions, and an important reminder that we can create something new from old. The reader truly understands why that is a favorite piece in this context.

The other skirt appears to have been protectively underused, in contrast to its oft worn twin in more muted colors, both purchased at KENZO in 1980’s London, simultaneously. The beloved bright one was a match for the buyer’s brilliant mood at the time, the darker one more likely acceptable in the owner’s day-to-day existence. A short comment on personal history that brought the good mood in the 80s in stark relief, and a cryptic snippet on how she regrets not having worn the favored piece enough, are the parentheses for the half-page long musings.

***

I used to wear skirts all the time. These days, not so much. I live in the functional, no need to think, can get dirty, ready to hike, comfortable uniform of pants and sweaters. But my favorite item in my closet is indeed a skirt, and it has accompanied me through good times and bad ones, for probably 20 years or longer. It replaced an old, red, star-sprinkled favorite that somehow got lost during emigration. I wear it when I travel, when I give lectures, or when I need a boost to my sense of who I am, during tricky encounters.

I picked it for my double portrait sessions with Henk Pander when he was still alive, a project, Eye to Eye, where he painted the photographer, I photographed the artist, across weeks of sittings. The skirt felt like the appropriate feminine counterweight to the absence of feminine symbols, eradicated by mastectomies for cancer. It’s most important attribute, other than a cheerful patchwork of patterns, is that it is light and wide enough to run in. No heavy skirts, no constricting pencil shapes ever again!

Henk Pander in his studio.

The skirt is also associated with something I am occasionally proud of: resisting overconsumption, for the most part, sticking to the tried and true. (I previously reviewed fiber artists, Ophir El-Boher, who embodies that concept in her art.) Of course that, too, comes from privilege. When you have permanent space to store things forever, when you have enough clothing that any one item is not worn to threads, when you have the funds to buy good quality that lasts, it is easy to do the right thing and not yield to compulsive purchases. In that way, then, the skirt reminds me to be grateful for all the choices I have.

Music today leads us back to the top – the fate of seamstresses in an exploitative economy. A Yiddish Ballad about the 1911 Triangle Shirtwaist Factory fire.

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Borrowing (2)

Can you tell I am not completely on top of it this week? I present again someone else’s writing, second time in a row. But it was so on target, witty and despairing at the same time, that I thought you might enjoy it. I have talked about Timothy Snyder and his Thinking about…. musings often. He strikes me as one of the most astute observers we currently have, and the greatest friend to Ukraine one could wish for. Today’s essay, however, is about our own administration – an imagined conversation between the president and his minions (covering the recent news.) Here goes.

Cabinet Apocalypse.

A News Review in an Imagined Conversation

Donald Trump, president of the United States. “Calling this meeting to order. That was a long speech that I just gave. State of the Union. Long speech. Not going to stand up and do that again next year. So let’s hear it. Plans to make sure I don’t have to. Plans to end the United States by a year from now. Around the table. Go. Start us off, Linda.”

Linda McMahon, Education. “Thank you, sir. Nothing is more important for the country than public schools. So we are destroying them by directing tax money away from public school parents and towards private education scams.”

Russ Vought, Management and Budget. “The republic depends on its institutions. As you know, sir, we are wrecking our civil service by firing those who are qualified and replacing them with political hacks. I don’t want to overstate my case, sir, but these are not just normal hacks. They are hackety-hacks, sir. They will use what remains of the government to hasten the process of its destruction. Hackety-hack, sir.”

Trump. “Good. Hack. Good. But maybe something faster.”

Scott Bessent, Treasury. “A government works on the basis of tax revenue. From the beginning of your administration, sir, we have been overseeing a shift whereby people who actually have the money won’t pay any taxes. Indeed, our oligarchs will be the happy recipients of whatever tax money we can scrape up from the middle and working classes. This wealth shift from the population at large to the wealthy few is inconsistent with the survival of a republic. This will help speed along the change Russ is talking about.”

Howard Lutnick, Commerce. “And there’s a next step, if I may, sir. When we empower the oligarchs they can help us. Big tax cuts make them happy and destructive. The endgame here, sir, is to have billionaires control extraterritorial zones, like Epstein Island, a place that I know well, but without any fear of taxation or any other form of government control. These little fiefs then replace the United States. This is the scenario and I do think we can bring it home within a year.”

Pam Bondi, Attorney General. “And a republic is based upon law. This is where Justice comes in. We can ruin law in a number of ways, such as investigating the people we ourselves murdered, or persecuting your personal enemies. A good way to kill our Constitution is to protect pedophile oligarchs, such as yourself, sir. I was attorney general in Florida while Epstein pioneered our future, sir, and I can see this through on a national scale. We can make this Epstein World, sir.”

Trump. “I like it. But that’s familiar stuff. I mean I live there now, right. Let’s see some movement. How about some color.”

RFK Jr, Health and Human Services. “There was a lot of color in the middle ages, sir. Our freedom and security are based on modern vaccinations and hygiene. We undo all of that and promote epidemics. We see good resultsalready in Texas and South Carolina. Not just people dying but babies and children getting really colorful diseases like encephalitis. By the way, this also opens up wellness markets for the people Howard and Scott are talking about. It takes people a while to die and there is money to be made there.”

Doug Burgum, Interior. “I may have something even more basic than that, sir. Everything we know about human history indicates that rapid changes in climate can bring down whole civilizations. We are deliberately engineering one of those. By suppressing green energy we can generate rapid global warming and make human life unsustainable. And along the way we get that color. People turning against each other, guns out until we run out of ammunition, then clubs, starvation, the works, a real spectacle. And, as Bobby says, disease. Very colorful, sir.”

Lee Zeldin, Environmental Protection. “And, if I may add, sir, our campaign to fry the species gives us all good practice in telling big lies, which are needed for all of these plans. Also, the billionaires will be fine on their islands when all of this happens.”

Trump. “OK, that’s colorful, I get it, but I want something with bad guys. Like a movie. The warming thing doesn’t work as a movie. Do you remember The Day After Tomorrow. I don’t remember the Day After Tomorrow. I want enemies. Bad guys who win.”

Marco Rubio, State. “I can help there. You are right, sir, that a republic to survive has to defend itself against autocratic enemies. So we empower the autocrats in China and Russia. We break the international system that held them back. We prop up Moscow in Ukraine and we give Beijing our most sensitive technology, ideally by way of middlemen who enrich you, sir, personally. If I may say so, sir, your friends and family have been very helpful in all of this.”

Tulsi Gabbard, National Intelligence. “Intelligence is the eyes and ears of our republic, sir, and we want these eyes and ears to be penetrated by foreigners who wish for us to fail and die. So we have lifted our cyber-defenses and announced that we have done so. If I may add, sir, both Russia and China support your incredible leadership in their information ops. It’s as though we all want the same thing. I see it every day and it’s beautiful. Spirit of Aloha. We say hello and they say goodbye…”

Kristi Noem, Homeland Security. “Without disagreeing with any of that, I just wanted to add that a republic exists because people believe they belong to a single nation. So the most direct way to kill our republic is a civil war. This almost worked the last time; this time we are getting the federal government behind white supremacy. We are creating a giant national secret police force in order to invade cities and force a conflict.”

Pete Hegseth, Defense. “Kristi is right. The war we can win is against Americans. And now that we are bringing unsupervised AI to direct our weapons, we won’t have to start it ourselves. It will be automated, we just watch from those safe islands. You see, sir? Movies. Terminators. Squiddies. Remember Wargames, sir, shall we play a game? AI likes nuclear war, it will recommend it 95% of the time. Get me into a conventional war, I lose it quickly, and boom. That would save you from having to give the speech, sir.”

Trump. “I like it. No long speeches. No Union. Steal what we can and burn the rest. Or burn first and then steal? Works either way. Steal, burn. Either way. Burn, steal. To help out I will just be me. Steal, burn. Me. Burn, steal. Me.”

(Applause)

The conversation is fictional, of course. In essence, though, this is little more than a review of the news of the last few days and weeks.

***

I can’t decide if I chose the photographs as expression of apocalyptic fears or the hope that all of this will ride into the sunset sooner rather than later. Let’s settle on the latter!

Music today: Björn Meyer‘s beautiful bass guitar counterbalances the heaviness of the times.

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Borrowing today.

Here you see me, with my morning coffee cup, thinking what I should do for the next blog. I was working on a longer piece, but would not finish in time. My focus was drawn to the cup because I had recently encountered a series of paintings containing cups, presented by the inimitable French gallerist Yoyo Maeght.

So I thought, let’s offer some of those and some additional ones, celebrating the joys of hot coffee during cold days. Or any day, come to think of it. After all, new Harvard research shows that 2 to 3 cups a day are tied to significantly lower dementia risk, and slower cognitive decline. (Not the decaffeinated kind, though – the more caffeinated, the better, it looks like.)

Paul Cézanne, Woman with a Coffeepot (1890–1895)

Just then, a friend sent me the essay below, which I decided to post in full. It is something I rarely do, but the writing resonated on so many levels and the shared love for birds is obvious. The observations and emotions expressed feel familiar in almost uncanny ways. At the same time I decidedly disagree with some of the sentiments. A piece to make me think, then, so very welcome. The author is Chloe Hope who has been writing about death and birds with sensitivity and wit for quite some time now. Here is her substack link, so you can see for yourself.

You get the somewhat haphazard combination, in other words, of a borrowed text and a borrowed visual idea, the former defiant, the latter comforting. I guess as good a combination as any to start our week with.

Félix Vallotton Nature morte avec des fleurs (1925).

in accordance

one eye on the sky…

By Chloe Hope

Someone in the village has been feeding the Kites. There’s an unusual number, wheeling above the valley—David counted forty, the other day, spinning a languid gyre. I’ve a cricked neck from holding my face parallel to the sky, and at times they hover so low I can see the whites of their glassy eyes. Their constant spectre is as intimidating as it is hypnotic, and they drift overhead like a half-remembered dream, while we press on below. One eye on the sky. I find myself envious of their honeyed glide. The grace with which they seem to meet the day. I have, of late, become increasingly irritated by my seeming inability to feel a sense of ease. The news cycle exhausts and demoralises. What was a creeping sense of disquiet has become a steady march of dread, and the crumbling of systems which long presented themselves as trustworthy continues unabated—each passing week seeing the circle of complicity widen, and the nature of what was being protected grow ever darker. The news is magnetic interference and my mind a compass needle that cannot find true north. I am exquisitely disoriented by this moment in time. My defensive go-to, since childhood, in the face of confusion and unrest, is to sense-make. The tumult that infused my youngest years saw understanding become sword and shield—and confusion my mortal enemy. Those grasping arms served me well; until, of course, they didn’t. Until wielding tools of rationale became as insane as the thing I was fighting. Some things will not yield to understanding. Certain darknesses have no angle from which they begin to resolve, and to keep searching for one eventually becomes its own kind of madness.

Henri Matisse Laurette with Coffee Cup (1917)

Over the years, I have had the extraordinary good fortune of being involved in the early weeks of many a young Bird’s life. As with any newborn being, there are exciting points of progression which way-mark their developing birdness: eyes opening, pin feathers forming, perching. A particular favourite of mine to witness, however, is the first wing stretch. Any wing stretch is a joy to see, but there’s something about the first one that feels seismic—as though the wings themselves are making a declaration of intent to the sky—“Soon, vaulted blue. Soon.” Each time the sight lands sharp in my chest, the strange sting of something so perfect it makes me nervous. Each time I am made to question what I will declare to the sky. A wing is a refusal of gravity; a rebuttal, made of bone. The architecture so ancient it renders us a footnote. Feathers extend in graduated tiers, the whole apparatus light but not frail—hollow bones latticed within, muscles knitted along the keel. When a Bird lifts its wings, it is shaping pressure. Curving and carving air. Whether Robin or Raptor, they sense the invisible and answer in accordance.

Francisco de Zurbaran Still Life with Chocolate Breakfast Undated

Flight is a holy intimacy with the world, one clearly reserved for those who know how to belong to it. And few belong to it more completely than the Andean Condor. These spectacular Birds have a wingspan of over 10 feet, stand more than a meter tall and, weighing 15kg, are among the largest flying Birds in the world. At the turn of the decade, a study of these Condors revealed that, while airborne, they flap their wings less than 1% of the time. One of the Birds monitored flew for over five hours, travelling more than 100 miles, without beating their wings once. These magnificent beings take to the skies, and surrender to the currents they find there. They do not fight the air they’re met by, nor wish for better winds. They sense what is, and answer in accordance—and the world, thus met, holds them aloft. Their surrender is not capitulation, but an active and intelligent response to the world exactly as it is. And their radical trust ignites my own.

Henri Fontain LaTour Vase de fleurs avec une tasse de cafe (1865)

Surrender is exquisitely difficult—for me, at least—and it seems that no matter how many times I manage it, it never becomes something that I know how to do. I’ll mither and loop, all while knowing there is an alternative, but it somehow feels out of reach. I wonder whether the act of letting go, of yielding to the very is-ness of things, tends toward rocky terrain because some part of us knows that a day exists, suspended in the geography of the future, where the final task to be asked of us will be that very thing. Each time I open my arms and tilt my head to the sky, and meet the world on its own terms in a posture of vulnerability, I am preparing for—and speaking to—my ultimate surrender.

It’s windy here, today. There’s a horizontal line of chimney smoke scoring across the garden. The Kites are undeterred—in fact I think they’re playing in it. May we each meet the day with the grace of these Red Kites, and may we each meet Death with the grace of a soaring Condor.

Jean Etienne Liotard Lavergne Family Breakfast (1754)

“Suspended in the geography of the future” – I just love that phrase; it applies not just to eventualities we meet in our own lives, but also in the unfolding of art history. Just look at the Liotard version of breakfast and then take in Juan Gris – a mere 160 years apart.

Juan Gris Breakfast (1914). 

What sticks with me, though, from the essay, is the distinction between capitulation and surrender, and the sense that an unwillingness or inability to surrender might be problematic. That we have to practice surrender for the day when it is inevitable. I disagree. I think we have to practice NOT to surrender, particularly as women in this world, or as people dealing with illness. Why worry about attitude, when death might sneak up on us unexpectedly, or soothe us into a non-conscious state before departure, or simply declare the time is now. You don’t expect an emotional stance from a baby being birthed, it simply has no choice in the matter. Why then from the person who is equally forcefully dragged into the reverse process?

The implication is somehow that an approach of a certain kind can and will ease things at the end. Yet I have seen during hospice work that all 4×4 combinations – letting go, fighting against, good death, bad death – regularly occur. Why use energy now to shape yourself into something you hope matters, when that energy could be used to pursue what you love now, what feels comfortable now, what strengthens you in daily struggle now? There are dangers to surrendering in advance – in politics as much as on the sick bed.

I’ll place myself happily among the group of defiant young women and their cups below, by one of Sweden’s foremost contemporary painters. Just dare me to let go!

Karin Mamma Andersson About a Girl (2005.)

It is claimed that Johann Sebastian Bach insisted on his morning cuppa.  “Without my morning coffee, I’m just like a dried up piece of roast goat.” Here is his Coffee Cantata.

Édouard Vuillard Tasse et Mandarine (1887)

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The Year of the Fire Horse

On Tuesday I stood in line early to watch the celebration of the Lunar New Year at Lan Su Chinese Garden. The long wait was worth it, despite cold feet and a mounting worry that my parking might expire before I got to visit the garden in full.

A kindly gentleman with a nifty beard contraption kept us in good spirits – he distributed red envelopes with lucky coins in them – Hongbao – to children and adults alike. This is a traditional custom ensuring that generosity is remembered and rewarded.

Then the lion dancers arrived at the plaza in front of the garden. Quick change in attire – it does get hot in those costumes.

Plenty of opportunity for the press to take pictures, and then the dance began.

Each lion had two hidden actors, some quite young, all very athletic as well as expressive. They happily “ate” the dollar bills offered to them by an enthusiastic crowd, kids transfixed.

The musicians were impressive as well, even though I feared I would go deaf standing right next to them, camera in hand and thus unable to plug my ears…..

Finally the gates to the garden opened. Dancers, musicians and public rushed in, making the rounds through the various pathways, performing some more on the terrace.

The garden was beautifully decorated with small, tasteful ornaments on some of the trees, horse graphics in the windows, and colorful sculptures in the ponds.

The combination of Horse (the 7th of the 12 Chinese zodiac signs) and Fire (one of the 5 rotating elements) reoccurs only every 60 years and is believed to be particularly powerful. The sign is associated with energetic, determined, resilient personalities with an entrepreneurial drive. It is also burdened with superstition: in some Asian cultures it was believed that women born under this sign were likely to overpower potential husbands and thus not a good match. Consequently, birth rates declined in those years to avoid exposing daughters to an uncertain fate.

It never ceases to amaze me how cultural mythology actually shapes our behavior.

Astrologers also claim that years of the Fire Horse are associated with important political and social events. Can we find that to be true of 1966, the last time the Fire Horse appeared?

Spoiler Alert: yes we can; and no, I did not check 1965 or 1967 just to confirm my hunch that important things happened then as well, as they do every year….

I will, however, remark on where we are 60 years later.

1966 saw the start of the Cultural Revolution in China on May 14, initiated by Mao Zedong. This socio-political movement aimed to preserve Chinese communism by purging remnants of capitalist and traditional elements from Chinese society. Bloodbath, but also initially making huge inroads to combat inequality, both in land holdings and educational access.

Where are we in 2026? China’s Xi Jing Ping is certainly not as despotic as Mao, but also not as open to relative freedoms as his own father was, choosing a middle path. One can look at repression under his leadership and the fraught issue of Taiwan, but also at long-term planning that takes into account scientific knowledge, climate change and so on, securing economic stability for billions of people.

Other major shifts in governments abroad: Indira Ghandi was elected as Prime Minister in 1966. Tough maneuvers to get into and then stay in power, with a focus on nationalism as well as leftist politics of redistribution of wealth. In 2026 we have Narendra Modi whose right-wing leadership has led to a resurgence in Hindu nationalism, taking away the autonomy of Kashmir in 2019, and relentless democratic backsliding in the following years.

Closer to home: 1966 saw an increased engagement in the Vietnam war and concomitant protests. It also saw a variety of legislative actions benefiting Americans: Lyndon B. Johnson’s presidency created significant domestic policies, including the Great Society programs aimed at eliminating poverty and racial injustice.

Dr. Martin Luther King Jr.’s ‘Letter from Birmingham Jail’ was published. It became a seminal text in the American civil rights movement.

Medicare was officially implemented. The Freedom of Information Act was signed into law, promoting transparency in government.

We joined the United Nations International Covenant on Civil and Political Rights and the International Covenant on Economic, Social and Cultural Rights. These covenants are key international treaties that outline fundamental human rights and freedoms, establishing standards for all nations.

The National Organization for Women (NOW) was founded on June 30, 1966, and aimed to advocate for women’s rights and equality, addressing issues such as workplace discrimination and reproductive rights.

The Endangered Species Act was signed into law on December 28, 1966, marking a significant step in wildlife conservation efforts in the United States. This legislation aimed to protect species at risk of extinction.

And last, but not least, the Cuban Adjustment Act was signed by President Lyndon B. Johnson. This legislation aimed to provide a pathway for Cuban refugees to adjust their status.

2026: Measures to improve or protect the rights of women and racial minorities are actively rescinded, under the guise of DEI hostility. Reproductive rights and voting rights are under particularly vicious attacks. I had written about the SAVE act earlier, but remember, if ratified it will make it harder for married women, poor people, students and native Americans to vote. Millions of them.

We have numerous instances where healthcare is endangered through the new bills that Congress and the President established, with Medicare a likely target for further restrictions.

We have withdrawn from the UN covenants.

We have limited or eviscerate the Endangered Species act.

We are blockading Cuba (while ICE is rounding up Cubans in Florida) to the point where we are accused of human rights violations by the international community.

Can some Fire Horse please gallop in to promote significant directional change for the rest of 2026????

In the meantime there is always the natural beauty of the garden, camellias, plum blossoms and paper bush in bloom. There are also many events scheduled (see the garden’s website) including light shows and miniature horses on site to be admired by the kiddos.

Music today: Dmitri Shostakovich completed his Cello Concerto No. 2 in 1966, matching the mood of our times.

Happy New Year of the Fire Horse!

 

 

 

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Brain Balls

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The Brain, within its Groove


The Brain, within its Groove
Runs evenly—and true—
But let a Splinter swerve—
'Twere easier for You—

To put a Current back—
When Floods have slit the Hills—
And scooped a Turnpike for Themselves—
And trodden out the Mills—

by Emily Dickinson

- from The Complete Poems of Emily Dickinson (1955)




As with all Dickinson poems, interpretations range widely. Is she talking about a mechanistic model of a brain here, which catastrophically stops functioning if parts of it are ruptured, never to be whole again? Is she musing metaphorically about a descent into mental illness, describing the fragility of our cognitive apparatus and our ability to maintain mental stability? Or is she referring to a sudden rush of ideas and speculations, when we are distracted from our train of thought, wildly drawn in different directions, unable to close the floodgates? You tell me.

I’ve been thinking about brains this weekend. About those that seemingly stopped running “evenly – and true – and delivered some huge cognitive dissonance instead. And about those that are not really fully formed brains, yet display a surprising amount of human brain function, set in recognizable grooves and growing towards a more and more familiar shape.

The first category arose from the 76th Berlin Film Festival, with someone who stunned with statements during the opening press conference that directly contradicted what they had said previously. Jury president Wim Enders (yes, that Wim Wenders) was asked about the “selective” solidarity shown to Gaza, Iran, Ukraine, and other war torn regions around the world, with Gaza willfully ignored. His answer?

“We have to stay out of politics because if we make movies that are dedicatedly political, we enter the field of politics,” he said. “But we are the counterweight of politics, we are the opposite of politics. We have to do the work of people, not the work of politicians.”

This is the same brain that announced 2 years ago: “The Berlinale has traditionally been the most political of the major festivals, and it is not staying out of politics now, nor will it do so in the future.”

Cognitive dissonance in the service of avoiding engagement in the genocide debate, of combating the fear of being called anti-Semitic for any word uttered on behalf of Palestinians, of yielding to the pressure of having to align with Germany’s “Staatsräson.” How does an intelligent brain cope with this?

Arundathi Roy withdrew from the festival in protest. “To hear them say that art should not be political is jaw-dropping. It is a way of shutting down a conversation about a crime against humanity even as it unfolds before us in real time – when artists, writers and film-makers should be doing everything in their power to stop it.”

I could not agree more.

***

The second category of brains are really minuscule little brain balls or so called  “Human Brain Organoids (HBOs),” tiny, 3D versions of a human brain the size of a peppercorn. The unexpected discovery of these things during research with stem cells in 2011 led to a flurry of research programs, from understanding how brains develop in a fetus, to possible ways to combat cancer.

These organoids mimic the developmental trajectories, cellular composition, neural circuits, and anatomical structures of the in vivo human brain (Seto and Eiraku, 2019). Some of them develop spontaneously from cell cultures, grow on their own and have the characteristics of multiple brain regions. Others are manipulated by scientists gearing them towards specific brain functions, and still others are “assembloids, fusing various specific brain regions, or organdies from non-brain regions, like muscles or retinas.

No longer science fiction: you can take material from donors with certain neurological diseases, including microcephaly, Alzheimer’s disease, or Timothy syndrome, grow these HBOs from their stem cells, and then subject them to any imaginable medical intervention/drug/manipulation to see if you can figure out a way to combat the disease. No worry about side effects or dangers to a living person, all trials done just on these brain balls in the lab.

Researchers have lately been able to transplant these organoids into animals, mice, rats and monkeys among them, and have shown that they can restore malfunctions in those host animals – helping them to reestablish motor functions that were damaged, improve memory in those that had memory and learning difficulties, and helped with healing of the visual cortex in rats that were blind.

Scientists have even, believe it or not, been able to produce interphases with these HBOs and computer systems, allowing them to play a simplified version of computer games. Theoretically, you could build systems where these neuronal structures power computers on a large scale, making the significant energy demands from current AI systems obsolete.

A groove made from a combination of biological substance and silicone…. what could go wrong? What swerving splinters will create havoc?

One big unknown, hotly debated, is the question of HBOs developing consciousness, and the associated ethical issues.

I am not going into the whole consciousness debate today. Let me just sketch the basic definitions psychologists use to distinguish types of consciousness. One is phenomenal consciousness – having the raw experiences that go with sensations and emotions.

The other is access consciousness. An entity has access consciousness when it has access to information and in most cases can use that information in some fashion. Access is obviously a matter of degree. A thermostat has limited access – it registers the temperature and reacts accordingly, by clicking on or off. We would obviously not call that consciousness. We use the general term access consciousness only if there is a fairly broad range of access and also a broad range of ways in which that information gets used.

Consider Tina who is now aware that Thai food is extremely spicy. Her knowledge comes from just having read about the way Thai food is prepared. Or her knowledge is derived from the pain in her mouth after her first bite, reaching for a glass of milk to handle it. The former is access, the latter phenomenal consciousness.

Given those different kinds, scientists do wonder where the line is for non-human entities to display access consciousness, or for animals, who we often grant even phenomenal consciousness. The organoids have access to information and act on it in predictable fashion, in complex ways.

Once you acknowledge a form of consciousness, all kinds of ethical principles kick in. Here is the long version of the arguments applied to human brain organoids for those who are interested.

Pandora’s box comes to mind, if you ask me. But then again, my brain is perhaps too small to calibrate the relative merits and flaws of creating brains in a dish.

Music today tells part of the story.

Photographs from the Hunting Gardens in Pasadena, CA, all about grooves.

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Random Thoughts.

Not the most gripping title, I know. But that is what happened during a walk yesterday, a walk that you would have surely enjoyed for the views. The plan had been to go on some more distant photo adventure with my friend Ken. Had to scratch that because I did not want to expose him to my lingering cold during a long car ride.

Mt. St. Helens

Mt. Adams

Mt. Hood

So I went to walk closer to home, looking at the mountains from afar, immediately roped into thoughts about – you guessed it – our assaults on climate commitments. We are in the middle of a snow drought, with abnormally low levels of snow, predicting high dangers for the upcoming fire seasons, and generally poor water conditions which affects fisheries and agriculture.

Spring arrives early, wild currants blooming.

Instead of leaning in to protect the common good and avert the worst climate disasters, we learned that Trump is to repeal the landmark Climate Finding in a huge regulatory rollback. The administration is trying to get rid of the “endangerment finding” — the scientific investigation that led the EPA to conclude that climate change is dangerous to humans, with six greenhouse gases posing a threat to public health and welfare. It could also include the repeal of federal regulations on planet-warming emissions from cars and trucks. The Trump administration is also separately moving toward repealing all climate regulations for power plants, the second highest-emitting sector of the economy. Trump’s press secretary proudly touted this package as the largest deregulatory action in American history.

My thoughts jumped from dismay about the accumulation and maximizing profits (what this is all about) to disgust about the sheer cruelty of it all – the reckless endangerment of communal health. Morbidity and mortality are all going to rise, all affecting the poor, the very young and the very old disproportionately. Had me thinking about kids again and the most upsetting thing I read this week.

ProPublica had an in-depth report about kids in detention camps. Thousands are detained with their families, some close to a year, although a long-standing legal settlement generally limits the time children can be held in detention to 20 days.

Missing out on education? “School” classes allow only 12 students of mixed age groups and last for just one hour. Slots are assigned on a first-come-first-served basis and staff leading the class distribute handouts and worksheets to those who made it inside.

Age appropriate nutrition? Food comes with worms and mold, and repetitive meals with portions too small, so that adults go hungry and often take from kids. Water is unclean, toilet facilities unspeakable. Rooms, with metal cots, are overcrowded, some holding up to 20 people. Extreme cold has them suffer.

The biggest complaint is the lack of appropriate medical care. People are constantly sick, measles are spreading. Legal representatives declared in court that more than 700 complaints since last August noted that children with medical problems frequently experience delays, dismissals, or lack of follow-up. Even after hospitalization, denied for so long that babies develop additional diseases like pneumonia, children returning to the camps are refused follow up medication.

Here are letters written by interned children – I guess your first reaction, like mine originally, is to not want to read, given the sense of sadness and helplessness in general, with no capacity for more. But I beg you, be a witness. It will be coming to somewhere near all of us: Federal records reveal ICE is secretly expanding into 150+ facilities across nearly every state — many near schools, medical offices, and places of worship. DHS asked the General Services Administration to hide lease listings and bypass normal procedures – you wonder why.

Thoughts jumping from greed to cruelty to amazement at the natural beauty around me, still accessible and open to all. That, in turn, led to thinking about National Parks, severely impacted by financial cuts on all levels. On top of it, the Trump administration has ordered the National Park Service (NPS) to remove historical signs at at least 17 national park sites across six states that we know of, including one at the Grand Canyon and another at Glacier National Park. The former referenced the displacement of Native Americans, the latter how climate change is contributing to glacial loss at the park in Montana. A sign was removed at Big Bend National Park in Texas, that referenced geology, fossils, and prehistoric history, some of which were written in both Spanish and English. In Wyoming’s Grand Teton National Park, officials also removed a sign referencing Native American history.

The National Parks Conservation Association (NPCA) says that the removals are an attempt to erase history. The Sierra Club is suing the administration for refusing to disclose how the sign removals are being carried out. A librarian led organization, Save our Signs, is collecting photographic evidence of the signs out there, so that we remember what they said before removal. Here is their website.

“To all your readers, please go out and collect photos of signs at National Parks before they are removed, to help us all collectively remember our history – the good, the bad, everything.”

SOS hosts an online database archiving photographs of all sign removals. The group also asks NPS visitors to submit photos of empty spots where signs used to be and of creative responses, like protest art, that have been put up where NPS signs were removed.

So if you are traveling farther than I am currently, you know what to do! The only sign I’ve come across the last days was this – I approve this message!

And in honor of the plastic duck I saw yesterday among all the real birds here is TajMahal…

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Mars on my Mind.

Well, well, well. Mars plans scuttled, with new attention instead directed to the moon by Musk, or so I hear. Another failed prediction, and waste of a perfectly abominable T-shirt he wore the day when leaving DOGE in the dust.

Mars-related thoughts, though, were mostly triggered by a Japanese mini series currently on Prime, Queen of Mars. It provided the appropriate level of distraction for a head-cold addled brain and a body that did not leave the house for days. I don’t know how they pull it off every single time, but Japanese Sci-Fi productions just have me cheering.

Beautiful people, serious method acting; broken families, families reunited! Good guys, bad guys, in-between guys shifting allegiances. Bad guys clearly labeled by looks – the military alone composed of star troopers, German Nazi lieutenants, an officer inexplicably looking like Ursula the sea witch in The Little Mermaid. Good guys win – yeah. Happy Ends rule! Mysterious objects appearing and disappearing, supernatural phenomena backed by some crafty AI visuals. Science rules!

The plot is perfectly commensurate with brain fog (spoiler alert!)

100 years from now, Mars has been colonized for 40 years, to extract valuable minerals. Profit rules! Now holding some 100.000 inhabitants, economically presented in the film by some 45 extras in changing costumes, the planet is governed by the Interplanetary Space Agency.

Plucky group of early settlers resists the organization’s attempts to repatriate them to Earth – Mars is their home! They also refuse requirements of machine-human interphases, not having surveillance tags implanted in hands and communication devices in foreheads. Young blind heroine gets kidnapped by profusely apologetic settlers to stop repatriation, then joins their cause.

Evil head of Space Agency, accepting bribes of mining companies and other extraction forces, has more than repatriation plans. Power rules! She wants to explode the planet to create an environment with atmosphere and water in 1000 years (Long-termism rules!), doomed remaining settlers be damned.

Feisty combo of two aging scientists and two young lovers separated by 140 million miles use mysterious objects to expose the rot at the core of the agency. Along the way we are advised we should take risks for science, not be afraid of the unknown and listen to the calls from the Universe. Curiosity rules!

The series was adapted from an original novel commissioned from sci-fi writer Satoshi Ogawa and created by Japan’s Broadcasting Corporation (NHK) in commemoration of its 100th anniversary. The narrative core, then, rests on communication, radio waves, and celebrates the underground neighborhood radio station that helps our protesting settlers topple the surveillance state. Radio rules!

They play with interesting concepts associated with communication – everyone in the movie speaks a different language, simultaneously translated by either embedded or clipped-on devices, a veritable cave of Babel, given the subterranean Martian accommodations. Subtitles rule!

Communication between Earth and Mars has a 10 minute time lag in 2125, originally. So how do you converse if it’s never “with” each other? The blind heroine has acute hearing to compensate for visual deprivation, important to the plot. And eventually we discover the value of interplanetary exploration by some means of echolocation….. A paean to auditory power.

Truth be told, these were three hours of my life well spent – there was something endearing, amusing, and at times thought provoking to this series. It makes a clear case for what is ethically and morally right – oh, do we need those reminders in our time – without being patronizing. The cinematography is beautiful in its own right. The film never yields to the temptation to speed up to move the plot along, but allows lingering. Very much recommend.

***

The broadcast I am really longing for, however, does not yet exist: a full recording of Jennifer Walshes new opera about the take-over of Mars by toxic tech bros, as experienced by an all female astronaut team on a mission to Mars. Here is the trailer. The themes cover some of the same ground as the Japanese mini series. As the composer declares: “when we talk about Mars we are talking about ourselves – about our ideas of the future, and about the operations of power in the present.” She refers back to the likes of Peter Thiel  who told the New York Times: “Mars is supposed to be more than a science project. It’s … a political project.” Consequently the opera explores the reaction of these 4 women astronauts to “isolation, sinister ideologies, the prospect of alien life and a vibe shift toward corporate authoritarianism,” when the tech bros take over (Ref.)

Apparently the women are able to overcome a bleak future with hopeful, defiant and, importantly, collective resistance. Although it would have been easier if they had not mistakenly taken with them the wrong on-board entertainment compilation. For nine long months all they have is Shrek the Third and a few seasons of The Real Housewives of Beverly Hills…

Who needs Mars when I was able to hike in New Mexico? Photographs today from Kasha-Katuwe Tent Rocks National Park. As close to Mars as I’ll ever come.

Music a nod to sensitive listening skills and subsequent translations into different auditory configurations; a wonderful new album by the Vision String Quartet, which really should be named the Listening String Quartet. In the Fields is inspired by Bela Bartok’s Fourth String Quartet, but adds experimentation on Ravel and Dvorak, among others.

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Daffodils.

Portrait with Yellow Daffodils (1907) by Oskar Zwintscher (German, 1870 - 1916) | Portrait ...

Oskar Zwintscher Portrait with Daffodils (1907)

This is how I look today: red nose, running like a faucet, teary eyes, head cold stuffing my brain. So we’ll keep it short and take joy from daffodils, signs of better times to come. I don’t even have it in me to pair them with my photographs of these yellow wonders. In German they are called Easterbells, but here they already sprout early February.

Just take in the brilliant color. Spring will emerge.

John Dobbs Daffodils 2023

Daffodils in Long Grass

Helen Firth Daffodils in Long Grass (late 20th C)

Still Life of Daffodils in a Blue and White Vase

Lily Yorke Still Life of Daffodils in a Blue and White Vase (1890)

A. van Haddenham (Dutch, 19th/20th Century) | Daffodils, Century, Flowers

A. van Haddenham Daffodils and other flowers in a hamper (19th century)

Daffodils by Berthe Morisot: High-quality fine art print

Berthe Morisot Daffodils (1885)

The Role of the Dancer - Cincinnati Art Museum

Gustav Klimt The Dancer circa 1916–18 – Daffodils central among all the rest….

Mat Grogan | Still Life Daffodils | MutualArt

Mat Grogran Still Life with Daffodils

WAYNE THIEBAUD (1920 - 2021), Daffodil, from Recent Etchings I | Christie's

Wayne Thiebaud Daffodil (Etching)

Maria Sibylla Merian: A Revolutionary Scientist | DailyArt Magazine

Maria Sibylla Merian Daffodil, Scorpion grasses and Butterflies, ca 1657–1659

And just as a reminder, this very flower from the genus Narcissus was claimed to have sprung from the site of Narcissus’ death, after he glared too long into his watery mirror image, fell in and drowned.

Hoping for renewal after narcissists’ demise. May there be millions of these flowers around!

Claude Monet | Landscape of daffodils in a field | MutualArt

Claude Monet Landscape of Daffodils

Daffodils Grey Light by Paul Rafferty | Natura morta, Dipinti, Fiori

Paul Rafferty Daffodils Grey Light

And here is Schumann on spring….

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Without End

In the Evening

By Else Lasker-Schüler, translated by Eavan Boland.

***

It was pure coincidence that I visited Cara Levine‘s exhibition Without End at the Oregon Jewish Museum and Holocaust Education Center during the same week that my kids arrived in town. They are permanently relocating as survivors of the Altadena /Eaton Fire that destroyed their house, their neighborhood, their newly planted gardens and every memento they owned from more than three generations. Not a coincidence, then, that Levine’s current work, concerned with grief elicited by climate-related natural disasters and originating in exactly those same (Palisade) fire-induced losses, intensely resonated on a personal level.

Levine’s work has focused on loss, grief and pain of all kinds across the years of her practice since she earned a BFA from the University of Michigan in Ann Arbor, MI (2007) and an MFA from California College of the Arts in San Francisco, CA (2012). More importantly, though, it has offered perspectives on both, the causes of losses and communal ways in which healing can be implemented. Put differently, the work is not exclusively focused on individual experience, but on unveiling the collective circumstances that are producing loss, as well as offering tools to overcome trauma.

Before I get into the specifics, let me emphasize what I consider the strongest aspect of her work before us.

Real grief strikes down to the bone. There are no layers, no occlusions, no obscurations that it does not penetrate – they all become irrelevant. Levine’s sculptures and installations have that same directness: what you see is what you get. In our world where art often takes pride in obscurity, the need for deciphering, the veiled references, the analyses left to those in the know, her work will have none of that. Language is explicit, forms are defined, function leaves no room for interpretation. The art directly communicates shared human experience, and the artist is on an equal level with the viewer, no hierarchical distancing allowed. This, of course, is the basic element of communal experience, a focus of Levine’s makings, just as much as the individual’s grief.

***

I first came across Levine’s projects in 2022, when I was writing about the waves of eco-anxiety and post traumatic stress disorder of climate catastrophe survivors seen by clinical psychologists. Therapists face both increasing number and intensifying depth of anxiety disorders related to climate change. Data from the general population confirmed the trend. “A 2020 poll by the American Psychiatric Association showed that “more than two-thirds of Americans (67%) are somewhat or extremely anxious about the impact of climate change on the planet, and more than half (55%*) are somewhat or extremely anxious about the impact of climate change on their own mental health.” 

What could be done before you need to find a therapist? Some political moves might help activists. Science is contributing tools to fight collective helplessness. And then there is art: Levine and other contributing artists invited people to participate in physically digging a hole to throw in their grief. For seven days, echoing our Jewish custom of sitting Shiva after a death – a time when community meets and supports the mourner – a large hole was dug in Malibu. The project happened on the grounds of the Shalom Institute campus which was devastated by the Woolsey Fire of 2018, an early taste of the fiery destruction to come. It struck me at the time that digging that hole might be one of the ways in which we could dig ourselves out of one: forming alliances (the contributors ranges from Chumash tribal leaders to cantors from local Synagogues) would provide an exit to suffering grief in isolation. Alerting community to the causes of wild fires might also lead to collective action to tackle climate change denials.

A video of the project can be watched at the current exhibition. So can a subset of exhibits from Levine’s project alerting us to the number and types of deadly shooting of unarmed civilians.

***

This is not a Gun (TINAG) was triggered by an article in 2016 Harper’s Magazine that depicted objects held by unarmed victim of police shootings. The artist carved replicas of these innocuous objects, and workshop participants created ceramic models while discussing topics of racism and police brutality often associated with these kinds of shootings.

One of the most famous of these cases happened in New York City in 1999, when unarmed 23-year-old Guinean student named Amadou Diallo was struck with 19 of 41 rounds fired by four New York City Police Department plainclothes officers. They were charged with second-degree murder and subsequently acquitted at trial in Albany, New York on the grounds that they had a reasonable expectation to be endangered and drew a gun first in self defense.

Since then, long-term data collection revealed the fact that these shootings disproportionally victimize Blacks and other people of color. But there is also research evidence that Blacks and Whites both misperceive something innocent to be a weapon more often, if the object is held by a Black rather than a White person. In other words, all of us are likely to exhibit modern racism or implicit racism – automatic, unconscious, unintentional – still being tied to a culture that routinely links the idea of Blacks with the idea of deviant behavior, or a set of ideas, mostly bad, that concern violent crime, poverty, hyper sexuality or moral corruptness.

You might not act on those beliefs, you might deny them, but the associations are carried by most of us through permanent exposure to the linkage of Black to negative or threatening concepts, whether we are aware of it or not, whether we have the best of intentions and the most egalitarian politics. (For a more detailed discussion see my review here.) Projects like Levine’s draw attention to the stereotypes (and for that matter the historical burden of racism) with the hope of motivating people to intercept their own mental associations.

Acknowledging the existence of racism, explicitly or implicitly expressed, and the hold it has on our society is the necessary antecedent to fight it. I can scarcely imagine a more timely reminder given what is unfolding in our communities at this very point in time, regardless of the color of unarmed victims of state violence.

***

The new work in this exhibition centers around containers of sand, intended to be deposits of what we release into them – drawing our sorrows, by hand or dowel. For those dealing with climate-related losses a lasting memento is offered – “silver linings” made of pewter filling in the contours of a sand drawing (by appointment, see the OJMCHE website)

They will be given to the participants and a replica stored in the artist’s collection. Examples from prior studio work are on display.

Sands shift, patterns will disappear, but the act of thinking what to depict and the physical act of drawing might very well form a containment that holds the grief momentarily outside of ourselves. Only to return.

Without end. As the aptly chosen exhibition title suggests.

Maybe the healing comes not from the unrealistic termination of the pain, but the insight that we walk on shared ground, sand before us containing multitudes, a communal experience. Certainly in the case of our own family’s post-fire trajectory, community sustenance made all the difference. The help – emotional, physical, financial, spiritual – being extended from the farthest corners was medicine. Solidarity as a first hand experience.

But maybe it is also a time to put the aspect of healing on a slow burner, and instead increase the heat of resistance against forces that create avoidable losses in the first place. Climate change denial is just one of the aspects of hostility towards science that we are currently experiencing, but one that has huge implications for the planet at large. Our time is running out to implement the necessary changes that can prevent the worst suffering for millions of people killed or ravaged by loss through climate catastrophes.

An installation of imprinted birchwood panels on some sort of infinity loop names types of loss, predominantly private causes, but also some of the general political challenges we face, from the legality of immigrants, the divisiveness in our society, to the lack of protecting our earth. I found myself longing for stronger words, in visually more prominent positions. The TINAG project was so courageous and openly political. Why not here? We live in an age of multiple mass extinctions around the world, at a time when authoritarian or even fascist history repeats itself in a variety of disguises across nations. This is a time of pandemics, starvation and withholding of medical or economic aid that dooms hundreds of thousands of people. Horror without end.

How do you draw a representation of genocide in a sand installation? The birchwood would have held the word.

***

What held grief was a dream catcher high up, pretty easy to miss, commemorating the untimely death of artist Peter Simensky, chair of the Graduate Fine Arts MFA program at California College of the Arts, Levine’s friend and mentor, to whom this exhibition was dedicated. For those unfamiliar with this unusually creative, political and perceptive artist, here is a link to an exhibition booklet from a previous memorial exhibition at Reed College’s Cooley Gallery and here is a link to his website.

I could not discern if one element of the dream catcher was indeed made out of pyrite, a kind of rock central to Simensky’s last artistic endeavors, Pyrite Radio works. Doesn’t matter. Whatever form his signal takes, I believe it will contain pride and joy at what is on display in the gallery below, the courage not to walk away from grief included.

Without End – Recent work on Grief by Cara Levine

Until May 31, 2026

OJMCHE

724 NW Davis Street
Portland, OR 97209

Wednesday – Sunday: 11 – 4

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Springsteen and Springfield.

The Boss composed, recorded and published a new song this weekend, honoring the victims of the killings in Minneapolis and decrying the lawless violence and harassment rained on that city by various state organizations, including Immigration and Customs Enforcement, ICE.

In case you are inclined to belittle ICE as a threat, you are out of touch with your President. His most recent fundraiser explicitly raises dispatching ICE as a threat if you do not send the financial support he desires at the end of the survey.

***

While all eyes are on Minnesota, a new round of true ethnic cleansing is pending. Tens of thousands of Haitians in Springfield, Ohio, who are here under legal protection, will lose that status – by the stroke of the presidential pen – on February 3rd. 1000 ICE personell is slated to arrive on the 4th and begin removal of non-criminal, tax paying, integrated citizens. Brown ones, though.

***

It is easy to be captured by the tragic ramifications of the extra-legal killings of individuals, whether bystanders or detainees in camps. They should not detract from our attention, though, to all the other things going on, out of sight in the camps, or in plain view in the courts and the news where administration officials state their demands.

Minneapolis U.S. District Court Chief Judge Patrick Schiltz, a Republican, wrote in a new court filing, “ICE has likely violated more court orders in January 2026 than some federal agencies have violated in their entire existence,” in close to 100 instances and counting. “This list should give pause to anyone — no matter his or her political beliefs — who cares about the rule of law.” (Ref.)

Out of sight, human and civil rights violations are happening for detainees. As just one example, the tent camp in Fort Bliss, Texas, holds over 2000 detainees. Lawsuits by the ACLU and Human Rights Watch, are alleging that detained immigrants are subject to beatings and sexual abuse by officers, as well as medical neglect, hunger and insufficient food, and denial of access to attorneys. Several instances of intentional crushing of testicles of young immigrants remind of eugenic practices known from another dark time in history. Female inmates report on rampart human trafficking and sexual abuse. And don’t get me started on the incarceration of infants and small children.

Access to attorneys is affected by strategic transfer of detainees across multiple states with little or no notice. These transfers are disrupting legal cases, delaying hearings, and denying access to attorneys, never mind leaving families without information as to the whereabouts of their loved ones. This increasingly frequent practice, every time a court hearing or some such is imminent, is harming due process and basic legal protections.

***

In the aftermath of the killings in Minneapolis, public backlash seemed to impel the Trump administration to change course. Border Patrol commander Gregory Bovino, a top official in Trump’s nationwide immigration enforcement operations, was removed (he’ll continue just in another part of the country.) He was replaced by Border czar Tom Homan (he of the $50.000 bribe in a paperbag). Has anything changed?

Homan, just like Miller, Noem, and the President himself, have spent months telling the militias that they are the victims and can act with impunity. Peaceful protesters, making use of their constitutional rights, are treated as the aggressors. Today, Homan reiterated these sentiments and recited the extortionist and coercive demands in AG Bondis letter – turn over your voter rolls, abandon your state policies, and give us Medicaid data & we’ll end the occupation and terrorization of a state – as the terms for withdrawals. (Ref.)

The intermittent shifts in tone, now rescinded, and replacement of one figure head for another, seemingly less aggressive one, hold the danger of what sociologists call “symbolic compliance.” The institution violating civil rights gives the public just enough symbolic victories that it stops momentum towards demands for accountability, insisting on meaningful change.

***

And this is where the Democrats need to be held to account: this is the moment, during household and spending debates, where they have an opportunity to put the breaks on a continuation of the abuses by ICE and DHS visible to all of us. What is at stake is best laid out by two experts on Totalitarianism. Timothy Snyder explains the political consequences of living with paramilitary forces. (In case you wondered if that term can be justly applied to the goons on hand, read here.)

Masha Gessen describes the psychological consequences of a state using terror, including our attempts to find explanations that would assure us we will never be the victims. An illusion, of course.

“The toolbox isn’t particularly varied. President Trump is using all the instruments: the reported quotas for ICE arrests; the paramilitary force made up of thugs drunk on their own brutality; the spectacle of random violence, particularly in city streets; the postmortem vilification of the victims. It’s only natural that our brains struggle to find logic in what we are seeing. There is a logic, and this logic has a name. It’s called state terror.”

Will Democrats find the spine to call for the abolishment of ICE, the impeachment of persons responsible?

One can hope.

Alas, my predictions align more with some random comment in my inbox:

Here is Billy Bragg with City of Heroes.

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