Dear Downton Abbey

This isn’t easy to say, so I’m going to just say it.

I don’t think we have a future.

I can’t deny things were amazing at the start. You invited me to a world of such activity and glamor, where men come down to a hot breakfast and a freshly-ironed paper, the lady of the house can lounge in bed with her own breakfast on a tray, and even the servants’ quarters, spare as they are, are infused with a warm, natural glow.

Bates

And I’ll always be grateful for the way that you brought Bates into my life, and Anna, the good Anna to embody my admiration. There is no affection quite as poignant as an unspoken affection, and their still, quiet surfaces left us to imagine their raging, turbulent depths.

The yearning alone had me tangled up in the most delicious knots. Mrs. Hughes, given the opportunity to chose between her life and position in the house and a life of her own when an old flame returns and proposes. Gwen, dreaming of a life in the new middle class instead of service. Thomas and O’Brien, scheming and scheming. William pining after Daisy, Daisy pining after Thomas, and Mr. Carson, just hoping that the family he takes care of, the only family he knows, will finally have its future secured one way or another.

But now it feels like we’re both working so hard to recapture the old magic, and you have to admit that things just aren’t the same. When Gwen left, you got another redhead to take her place. Another girl with stars in her eyes who didn’t see herself spending the rest of her life as a maid. But how did it go so wrong? Could she not live up to Gwen’s shining example? Did you have second thoughts about class mobility? Even O’Brien now seems petty, defeated. The person who once had the gumption to engineer a false theft to pin on Bates can’t even get Mrs. Patmore fired for actually stealing food! Even worse, her grudge against Bates, which once at least was intended to get Thomas in as Lord Grantham’s valet, now just comes off as paranoia. When Dr. Clarkson reprimands Thomas for exceeding his authority, O’Brien is quick to blame Bates, even though Bates has refused to rat on either Thomas or O’Brien when the pair repeatedly caught themselves out in their own schemes.

O'Brien

How can I respect someone who used to be so fabulously evil, when she doesn’t even respect herself anymore?

And while we’re on the subject, I’m not sure that I like the person I am when I’m around you. Last week, I actually found myself angry that Mrs. Patmore was stealing to feed out-of-work veterans. Even worse, I was angry at Ethel for being so stupid as to sleep with that no-good Major Bryant, and that’s not who I am. From the day that you introduced us to Ethel, you’ve made clear that she’s someone who doesn’t know her place, someone who would destroy her own future in a deluded grab for a life that she thinks she’s entitled to, and worse, that the whole sordid situation would revolve around a man. In reality, Major Bryant is a predator, taking advantage of a girl to whom he can never be held accountable, but he’s not even enough of a character to possibly bear any of the viewer’s blame.

And if I’m going to stay involved, then I have to take that on myself. I can’t stay a tourist forever. If I’m going to live in your world, then eventually I’m going to buy into some of your Tory politics and nostalgia. I’m going to have to accept that getting emotionally invested means accepting the implicit argument that service isn’t exploitation but a way for a few chosen common people to participate in the dignity of the aristocracy. That the weaker party not only bears the consequences of an imbalance of sexual power, but that they have to bear the blame as well. Perhaps worst of all, I have to take sides in a battle between Isobel Crawley and the Dowager Countess that started off as an entertaining and illuminating struggle between middle class and aristocratic entitlement, but is increasingly just a stupid argument between two unbearably self-centered people.

And maybe even that would be okay if there weren’t something vulgar, and, dare I say it, even American about the new season. I’m not sure that you know where things are going, and I’m concerned that like a stateside drama you’ll just keep making things up even after it’s clear that there’s nowhere else to go. And let’s not do that. You know that something like this is best when there’s an end in mind from the very start.

But maybe we shouldn’t try to place blame. We’ve been apart for so long, maybe it wasn’t fair for either of us to expect that things could be the same.

I know I’m only human, and deep down I’ll be happy to see you when you come around again, but you know that won’t be often, and Wikipedia will have already spoiled all your major plot points.

And maybe it’s best that way. No matter what, we’ll always have season 1.

You may remember the National Geographic Society’s “Before New York” project, where they set out to create a visualization of what Manhattan Island would have looked liked when Henry Hudson first set eyes on it at the beginning of the 17th century. What makes the project so compelling it the way it makes clear the sheer scale of the engineering required to create an urban area like New York — not only were hills and highlands leveled, and the coastline extended, but wise swaths of wetlands were filled in, eliminating entire waterways. (Check out the images from the Chinatown area and the Upper East and Harlem in particular.)

In a somewhat similar project, albeit on a smaller scale, the Imaging Research Center at the Universty of Maryland, Baltimore County, has been working on creating a 3D visualization of Washington, D.C. in the early days of its construction. (I found the video at Ghosts of DC, a D.C. history blog) Without being competitive, In my utterly unimportant opinion, IRC’s six-and-a-half minute video blows the National Geographic’s website away, particularly in the way that it walks through the process of pulling information from 19th century topographical surveys and maps.

What’s really striking about the project, especially in comparison to “Before New York,” is how much closer to the present it is. In New York, National Geographic is digging back to nearly to the 16th century. Washington, D.C., however, was still largely undeveloped in the middle of the 19th century.

There’s a lot of concrete here. But the roads themselves are new.

“Our very bodies as a means of laying our case before the conscience of the local and the national community”

I’m not sure that there’s a way that I can really sufficiently pay tribute to Martin Luther King Jr. But in lieu of an assessment of his life, let me try to talk a bit about his legacy.

I’m not going to step into speculation about what Dr. King would think about the Occupy movement, but given that this past week Washington DC mayor Vincent C. Gray requested that the National Park Service evict Occupy DC protesters from McPherson Square, it may be a good time to take a look at what Dr. King’s actions may have to say to occupiers (and Occupy critics) about the importance of an ongoing physical occupation to the movement as a whole.

After a round of police evictions and the onset of cold weather in Oakland, New York, and elsewhere, Occupy DC is the last major segment of the Occupy movement that is actually occupying a public space. A number of people both supportive and critical of the Occupy movement has suggested that in order to stay relevant, Occupiers need to “come up with a coherent set of goals and policy proposals behind which people — who mostly can’t or don’t want to sit outside for weeks or months at a time — [can] organize.” (See, for example, Ari Kohen, the source of that quote.)

I think Kohen and others are correct that encouraging involvement in the electoral process should be one of the goals of the Occupy movement, but at the same time I think that demanding that the movement refocus on specific policy goals misses two major components of what the Occupy movement is actually doing and what their impact can and should be.

First, the Occupy movement is in part about the failure of our government to be sufficiently representative. At its core, this criticism isn’t about how many Democrats or Republicans are elected, or about whether they play nicely together, it’s about the way that the process itself has alienated representatives from their constituents and vice-versa. There’s been a great deal of attention paid in the media — and rightly so — to the role that campaign financing has played in that alienation, but it’s just as important to talk about the way that local elections are driven by national issues and how national lobbying groups and political organizations hold the attention of people who should be local representatives.

That is to say that a central problem is the fact that members of Congress treat themselves as members of a political party first — or even simply as representatives of the segment of their district who voted for them and not someone else — rather than as representing and responsive to their state or district as a whole.

Another way of saying this is that the political process goes way beyond the voting booth, and that the physical presence of the occupiers — the ongoing and somewhat domestic nature of their activity — speaks to the fact that the body politic (or bodies politic) deserve representation not as a reward for voting or supporting a particular politician’s campaign, but because they’re there.

In this way — without equating their level of their oppression or neglect, or the righteousness of their cause — the Occupiers are the children of the Greensboro sit-in protests and the people of all races who marched with Dr. King for civil rights.

The second major point is that while a great deal of the current political conversation in the country is focused on questions of liberty, the Occupy movement is focused on questions of justice. Liberty is a consideration of the individual — what am I free to do, how can I live my life with the least coercive interference — and thus the conversation can be constructed around a fundamental absence. In many ways, I am most free when I am left alone, particularly by the government.

Justice, on the other hand, has to be a consideration of relationships — between individuals, individuals and organizations, organizations and each other, and what role the government has to play in all of this. That is to say, justice has to do with how various entities can occupy the same spaces at the same time. This is why King didn’t just lobby, he marched. This is why he didn’t just encourage people to vote, he brought them together on the National Mall. This is why on February 1, 1960, four young men sat at a “whites only” lunch counter, ordered coffee, and refused to leave until the store closed.

A large part of the message of the Occupy movement is that justice isn’t about being left alone — especially when “left alone” really means “ignored” — and I’d like to argue that a big part of the reason that people are being ignored is that those who doesn’t fall clearly into one of the two sides of the national “policy” debate find themselves effectively invisible to their elected representatives. The solution to this problem isn’t to find a slogan to shout, it’s to not shout slogans. The solution to this problem isn’t to convince people to align themselves with the people who already have our representatives’ attention. The solution is to stand up and demand to be seen.

“Every (significant) Bat-suit ever”

Just because it’s cool, Benjamin Andrew Moore created his own interpretation of the many variations on Batman’s costume. (Click on the image below for an even larger version.)

Variations on the Bat-suit

Moore quotes Grant Morrison: “[Every bat-suit is] completely different” – sometimes insanely different – “but they’re all instantly recognizable as [the-bat-suit].”

In other words, the Bat is the Bat is the Bat is the Bat.

Julia Child’s Kitchen exhibit at the Smithsonian to be taken down this weekend

Originally planned for 18 months in 2002, The Smithsonian’s exhibit of Julia Child’s kitchen will be dismantled starting after the last visitor leaves this Sunday.

So I’ll be making a last-minute trip on Saturday, obviously.

I am looking forward to seeing the new apparently-planned exhibit on the transformation of cooking in the 20th Century, but I really want to visit the kitchen itself, just once.

Update, January 9: Here’s the write-up from my visit

This year marks the 50th anniversary of the publication of The Snowy Day by Ezra Jack Keats, “widely considered the first picture book to star a black child.”

I was a big fan of The Snowy Day as a child. I loved the boy’s pointy hood and the shape of the snow angels it made. I loved the quiet narration. I loved the way that it makes the world feel so big. I still do.

Thanks to Sesame Street, two full generations of Americans have grown up in a city brownstone, even if we didn’t realize it. It’s worth recognizing that The Snowy Day helped make that happen.

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