Clouds, stars and dreams

Modern art - do you like modern art?

How do you define modern art?

I'm not sure I feel like discussing this now.

Here is a link which I think provides a very good example of the modern art I like:

http://berndnaut.nl/works.htm

Enjoy! [Lucia, thanks for the link! ;) ]

Poetry - is it possible to understand poetry?

I often see it as cryptic and distant - yet sometimes a poem catches my attention, and it may happen that a line or two keep coming back to my memory.


Bright Star (J. Keats)

Bright star, would I were stedfast as thou art —
Not in lone splendour hung aloft the night
And watching, with eternal lids apart,
Like Nature's patient, sleepless Eremite,
The moving waters at their priestlike task
Of pure ablution round earth's human shores,
Or gazing on the new soft-fallen mask
Of snow upon the mountains and the moors —
No — yet still stedfast, still unchangeable,
Pillow'd upon my fair love's ripening breast,
To feel for ever its soft swell and fall,
Awake for ever in a sweet unrest,
Still, still to hear her tender-taken breath,
And so live ever — or else swoon to death

Aedh Wishes for the Cloths of Heaven (W. B. Yeats)

Had I the heavens’ embroidered cloths,
Enwrought with golden and silver light,
The blue and the dim and the dark cloths
Of night and light and the half light,
I would spread the cloths under your feet:
But I, being poor, have only my dreams;
I have spread my dreams under your feet;
Tread softly because you tread on my dreams

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ym1M9vBVIYw (Yeats' Grave - The Cranberries) [I think there are a few mistakes and misspellings, but overall it's a nice video.]

ScienceCom #1 - What is out there

A while ago I was reading an Italian newspaper, "Repubblica" - I was browsing various articles when a title in small prints caught my eye: the article mentioned the foundation of a new research centre to study the risk that humans destroy themselves by giving birth to a machine that eventually turns itself against its creator. Without further ado, here is the relevant link: http://www.cser.org/.

Pause.

This reminded me that a few months earlier I had bumped into an equally odd website: http://beyond.asu.edu/.

Another pause.

Continuing my journey through the resources of the internet, here is the most recent discovery (thank you, Rob!): http://storify.com/ingorohlfing/overly-honest-methods-in-science.

... Now what?

Let's start thinking about what such websites have in common - a certain vision of scientific research, perhaps.
My reaction when I read about the first project listed above may be described as a rapid sequence of thoughts along these lines:

- who are these people, and is there so much money out there that one can possibly spend on such nonsense? Clearly this is easily classified as a non-directional, superficial rant.

- no, but... Seriously? I can think of at least three alternative possible causes for the destruction of our race - and none of them includes a form of Artificial Intelligence (AI) turning into our terminator. Maybe I'm narrow-minded, though.

- why would someone come up with such an idea? Sometimes one hears people commenting on a silly proposal: "they had no more original thoughts to work on, hence their uninteresting latest idea". In this case it's the other way round, so to say. It seems like, oppressed by centuries and centuries of scientific debate and discoveries, and in a century - the current one - where the "Publish or Perish" principle has become deeply rooted into many researchers' brains... The focus on the identification of the most significant and meaningful priorities may be lost. Minds might start to wander freely, they may stumble on an idea or a hypothesis - and if they are not prompt enough in recognising it as a divertissement (an entertaining diversion), this may grow in size and eventually become a real entity like a centre or an institute.

The second link I copied above generated analogous considerations, except that here the centre is not "newly born"... It's up, running and, to be frank, I'm still debating within myself as to whether I find the whole structure trustworthy or not. Browsing the website there seems to be an equal amount of odd contents and stimulating talks and seminars.

The third website is probably the most interesting one; the first obvious reaction is laugh, of course - partly because many of the entries are just great, and partly because (especially if the reader is a scientist, or maybe-to-be-scientist too :) ) it is rather easy to spot a few comments that sound familiar and well-known. The second reaction comes as a question: why would anyone ridicule research? Perhaps the verb I chose is too strong, but I do feel like all the contributions to this web page subtract to science and scientific progress a share of its authority and reliability, not to mention its - supposed?! - rigour. Now, I know that such doubts arise every time one hears in the news that this or that paper (often published in a good journal) turned out to be an inventive creation of its authors, so to speak. The more I think about it, the more I feel like the point that strikes me here is the participation of young researchers and students. These "confessions of questionable scientific practice" belong to people who have just started to approach reseach or are still relatively new to the field - yet they all seem to have encountered a few examples of "bad science". And, more importantly, they are willing to share these experiences, wink and have a laugh about them.

I don't mean to sound intransigent or support censorship. This post is a mere collection of thoughts on the subject of what is out there, in terms of the scientific community and its views on itself and the world around it. Thank you for reading!

FolkRec - Now Is the Cool of the Day

... Yes, another recording - and another religious song, too! This one I learnt years ago - thanks to Mariano De Simone for teaching it to me. I think I memorised the lyrics gradually, and for a long time I didn't even own a printed copy of the words. The lyrics I refer to can be found here: http://www.mudcat.org/@displaysong.cfm?SongID=1331. There is a comment about another verse - true, the version I knew was indeed longer, but I personally decided to cut down one verse as I found it... less interesting (excuse my frankness). A recording of this tune that immediately comes to my mind is the one by Jean Ritchie (where she sings along with a choir whose size sounds... impressive!). I do believe that this song is religious - maybe this time it is also truly a Christian song.
On a general note, I am not a religious person - I am an agnostic, and a convinced one. Does it make sense then for me to venture into this kind of "belief-inspired repertoire", I wonder? I have asked myself this question many times, and I have never performed such songs in public (I do not perform in public very often anyway!). Now I posted two of them on this blog, so it may look like I finally found an answer to my question. Well, as much as it can sound trivial and superficial, I do believe that music is a universal language. There are songs that are deeply rooted in a specific culture or time in history, and these may therefore lose part of their potential "universality". On the other hand there are tunes, images and feelings that do cross boundaries, both cultural and temporal. And then one may end up humming a song that was originally sung by, say, workers in 19th-century North America or by English sailors at sea. Isn't this incredible?

FolkRec - Bright Morning Stars Are Rising

I only know two versions of this song - one is by Gillian Welch and David Rawlings, the other one is by Anaïs Mitchell (who sings it with two other people whose names I don't know - apologies). I initially memorised the first verse - and would sing it in a sort of loop... ! The full lyrics are the following:

Bright morning stars are rising
Bright morning stars are rising
Bright morning stars are rising
Day is a-breaking in my soul

Oh where are our dear fathers
Oh where are our dear fathers
They’re down in the valley a-praying
Day is a-breaking in my soul

Oh where are our dear mothers
Oh where are our dear mothers
They’ve gone to heaven a-shouting
Day is a-breaking in my soul

Bright morning stars are rising
Bright morning stars are rising
Bright morning stars are rising
Day is a-breaking in my soul

I remember I was struck by this one verse, where "mothers have gone to heaven" shouting... I thought it was a strong image, and wondered about the origin and true meaning of it. At some point I convinced myself that it had to refer to mothers who would die after they gave birth to their child, but I admit it - it's an adventurous explanation. Also, I knew the song was American traditional - nothing more. I recently looked for additional information and found this web page: http://www.mudcat.org/thread.cfm?threadid=89700. So, it looks like the song comes the Appalachian region in North America; there seems to be a lively debate as to how old it is, and an even more fervent discussion as to whether it is a Christian song or not (the somehow religious content is, I think, rather obvious, but I do agree with the people who claim that it doesn't really sound Christian). If you scroll down the wbe page, you'll also find alternative lyrics - I was particularly interested in one version where "mothers" are praying while "fathers" are in heaven! Oral tradition - you never know what to expect. ;)

The lass is back in town

Chimneys, chimneys... And more chimneys. Rigorously red.

Welcome to Jericho! It took me a while to come back to this blog - namely, it took me a busy month of September, a frantic month of October... And a too-fast-to-describe month of November, it seems. Also, moving to a new house with no internet connection (now solved, clearly) did not help. Yet one day - one sunny day, rare and precious! - I took some time off, brought my camera out for a stroll and explored a few streets here in Jericho. The result is in these photos - take a rest and enjoy the autumnal colours!

Close to St. Barnabas Church - I like the way this photo looks like it's B&W... Although it's not! Such a nice contrast of light and shade.

... Would you dare knocking on this door? Behave... Or beware. (*)

When I saw this wall and its bright, intense colours, I thought I had to grab my camera and come back to this spot!

The "Rickety Press" on Cranham Street around 3pm. "Cask ales, fine food" - what else should I say?

I like the way a few leaves stay on some trees (especially on sycamore trees, did you notice it?) - dots-dots-dots.

Ladies and gents, here is Wellington Square in all its glory!

(*) Do you know where the quote "Behave or beware" comes from? If yes, nothing to add - if not, here is the answer: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/File:Nanny_mcphee.jpg. ;)

Intro - The Dowie Dens of Yarrow

Since I discovered the "English Folk Dance and Song Society" based at the Cecil Sharp House in Camden, London, I have thought of a reason good enough to take a chance and explore the resources of their fabulous library - the Vaughan Williams Memorial Library. Not that the librarians aren't friendly and open-minded - by contrast, I must thank Laura Smyth for being incredibly helpful and welcoming. No, the truth is: I couldn't spoil a visit to the library by asking "Can I have a look at Child's collection of British ballads?" - it's like going to a very prestigeous tea shop, famous for their peculiar blends; when asked "Would you like to have a free tasting of one of our products?" one answers "Sure, a cup of English Breakfast please!". I'm not saying that English Breakfast is a silly choice. Actually, it might even be the most intelligent move - English Breakfast is a benchmark when it comes to tea, isn't it? Then by sipping it one could immediately notice if the taste is different, and therefore appreciate any unexpected aroma... On the other hand, one does miss the opportunity to explore new territories, so to speak. I suppose one might try a braver strategy, such as "Thank you - I was wondering, would it be possible to try two blends?" - it may work, after all. Then one would... Wait a minute. How did I find myself writing about tea and free tastings?

I ended up spending about four hours in the Vaughan Williams Memorial Library (VWML): all of my readings and listenings were centred on one ballad, "The Dowie Dens of Yarrow". The line of thoughts that determined this choice was quite linear:

- isolating one song and checking different comments and annotations by various collectors/lyrics/recordings would give me the opportunity to appreciate the richness and vastity of the library resources while maintaining a clear direction of exploration.

- when I learn a new tune, I tend to refer to one, perhaps two versions of it that I like. What is worse, I then tend to sing it that way - with hardly any personal input on neither the lyrics nor the tune. I thus figured that one possible way out of this habit might be to go back to the roots of one specific song, so to say; reading books instead of liner notes (and information found on the internet) and listening to a number of versions (sometimes in the form of original field recordings - unpolished, not post-processed/post-produced and therefore amazing, most of the times!) may help me to finally come up with my rendition of the ballad.

- how to choose one song though? Recently I have been focussing on English tunes, so a Scottish ballad sounded like a good start. Also, I knew "The Dowie Dens of Yarrow" but never learnt it. After a few searches I discovered not only that it is a "border ballad", which is pretty much what I was looking for, but also that a few of the available recordings come from Scottish travellers, who together with Irish travellers share an absolutely fenomenal musical knowledge (and taste) that has always fascinated me.

I came back to Oxford with handwritten notes and tunes that I kept on humming for a few days (and which I recorded before they faded away) - soon to come is a new "FolkRec" post...

On the field #4 - The Science Museum in London

In June I spent one afternoon at the Science Museum in London, where - shame! - I had never been before. If I had to be concise, I would probably choose one adjective: fabulous.

... Of course, brevity is no familiar word of mine. :) A first look at the museum plan suggested me that I would need to select a few topics and focus on these, leaving the others for future day trips to the capital. I thus visited quite extensively the Mathematics section, looking with amazement at the beautifully crafted three-dimensional reproductions of solution curves for differential equations and staring at the zoo of polygons and solids that were discovered (and sometimes named, just like one would do with a child of their own!) in centuries of mathematical studies. I strolled around a couple of temporary installations, one of which I very much disliked, the other of which I quite enjoyed. Ah, art combined with science - often probabilistic in its outcome! :) On a general note, I did find the idea of having a permanent collection as well as a few sections that host temporary exhibitions on various topics an extremely clever way of structuring a museum...

... Which leads me to the main reason why I started this post in the first place. When I entered the museum, the first object that drew my attention was a poster advertising one of these temporary sections, in this case one that focussed on the life and legacy of Alan Turing (http://www.sciencemuseum.org.uk/visitmuseum/galleries/turing.aspx). If the name does not ring any bell, I will leave you to the reading of the Wikipedia article (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Alan_Turing). If you do know a bit about Turing's contribution to mathematics, logic and computer science, then you probably won't be surprised to know that exploring the section one would be able to see a couple of Enigma machines and a reproduction of a computer designed by Turing himself when, well, a computer was everything but "personal" (in the early days, a "computer" was actually a human being - usually a woman - trained to compute specific calculations by typing on a machine very similar to the ones you would have written letters to your grandmother with), to mention a few items on display.

The real surprise came at the end of the exhibition: three very coloured, interactive machines had been brought there to get the so-called general public to familiarise with concepts such as looping. Such "key words" are well-known within the scientific community; they identify operations that are likely to appear as basic building blocks in many, many programming codes (irrespective of the specific language used). I must say that I voluntarily chose the looping example: I am an inexperienced programmer, and I still feel somehow uncomfortable every time I realise that I need to add a loop in a code. I thus decided to stop at the machine that stood there to give an insight into how looping instructions are written and executed: I was curious to see the way people would interact with it.

Let me try and describe the installation itself. Imagine a screen where specific areas (which are nothing but sets of pixels) have different colours: these coloured sections of the screen can be activated (and de-activated) depending on the instructions executed by the machine. This creates sequences of "coloured patches" that appear and disappear in cycles until one or more instructions change. This is because the lines of code that "tell the screen" "Now make the green pixels glow!" and so on are embedded in a loop, and are thus executed over and over (well... potentially - nothing lasts forever, I believe). Under the screen is a post where another screen is found: this one displays the actual code that is responsible for what happens on the glowing screen. It is also possible to see the circuit that physically implements the written programme. Finally, next to the screen showing the code there is a smaller screen that displays a few instructions that should allow visitors to understand how the machine works, and in turn make it possible to actively modify its glowing output.

I thus stand a few metres away from the installation: a first group of people arrives - good. They look like they are 25, maybe 30 years old; two men, two women. The latter somehow stay at a distance. Perhaps they are not interested, but maybe this is also because their male companions have quite naturally (and quickly) occupied the space in front of the screen: they are already interacting with the machine. What strikes me about the first bunch of groups that stop and spend some time in front of this looping machine is the following behaviour: they do look at the instructions that "translate" what the code does, but they rapidly start pressing the buttons that make it possible to modify the code - sometimes while they're still reading the instructions, and often in such a nervous way that makes me suspect that they're not really testing how this machine works. They play around. What is also interesting is that they seem to get bored quickly - many people extract a digital camera, take a picture of the coloured screen and then leave.

As for me, I had initially spent several minutes looking at the installation, and to be entirely honest, well, I am not sure I did understand how this is supposed to shine some light on how looping lines of code are implemented. Which is why I then decided to stay around, to see if I could feel less lost by watching other people dealing with the machine - someone could turn out to be a good demonstrator. Now, these first groups of visitors do not help at all: they're way too frantic, they touch every possible button and they don't seem to have any criteria driving their actions. Ah - now a man in his sixties comes around. He stares at the installation for a while. He looks at the glowing screen, then at the post with the two screens displaying the code and the instructions on how to operate the machine. Pause. He starts pressing a few buttons on the post - calmly but firmly, and constantly checking what the outcome of his actions is on the glowing screen: areas of different colours gently appear and disappear. Pause. He stares at the screen a little longer and he eventually leaves; I presume he is satisfied with the final result. Then I do realise - this man has just been my demonstrator! Now it all perfectly makes sense - easy. I am about to leave when something else happens: the post with the code and the instructions breaks - no instructions anymore. My reaction is immediate: too bad, now people won't stop as the machine cannot be operated in these conditions. Wrong. A couple (both in their mid-thirties, I would say) arrives and stares at the screens for a while: they do seem to get the general functioning, and after pressing a few buttons they leave. A few more people stop by: some of them look like they know what they're doing, some less - still they use the machine and produce coloured patterns on the glowing screen...

... Which is ultimately what happens when one switches on a laptop or a mobile phone: one does use them even without having a deep knowledge of the way they effectively work.

The code is there though.

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