A Dysfunctional Chicken Coop

It started with an idea. “I want to have chickens!” So I knew I had to build a coop for the dual purpose of keeping the elements off of them and their food, and keeping predators out.

But then, somehow, foolishly, we skipped to the last step of the design process: surface.

“The landlady’s coming over. She said we’ve gotta move the coop to the other corner of the yard so it’s regulation-distance away from the neighbor’s house, but I feel sick today. Let’s just dismantle it, move the pieces over there, and prop it up so it LOOKS OK when she comes over.”

And then it rained. And the roof bowed, and then fell down. And the chickens stood on their muddy feet, all drenched with rainwater.

So now we’re at the roof-fell-down stage in the design process of the chicken coop. Perhaps I’ve learned more about the constraints of the materials I used than I would have if I’d followed someone else’s blueprint and built a sturdy coop the first time around. I’ll be more proficient with a drill than I was before, after building the coop a second time. And I’ll have a better sense of what structural form is more reliable after going through the experience of seeing the old form fail.

Telephone Pictionary

Telephone Pictionary is a game that plays with semiotic slippage using images and words. In the game, a stack of paper is passed around a circle of players. The first player writes a phrase on the first sheet of paper in the stack, then passes the stack to the second player. The second player reads the phrase, flips the first sheet of paper to the back of the stack, and then attempts to pictorially represent that phrase on the second sheet of paper. After the second player is finished drawing, the stack is passed to the third player. The third player must attempt to understand Player 2’s drawing without looking at the original phrase written by the first player. On the third sheet of paper Player 3 writes a new phrase based on Player 2’s drawing. The stack is then passed on to Player 4, who reads Player 3’s phrase, flips to the next sheet of paper, and attempts to pictorially represent Player 3’s phrase. Thus the stack goes around the circle, eventually coming back to the first player. When my friends and I play this game, everybody in the circle starts their own stack and the stacks are always passed at the same time in the same direction, so everyone in the circle is engaged in either drawing, or image-deciphering.

Sometimes the final paper is very similar to the first player’s desired meaning, and sometimes it’s hilariously off the mark. What’s great about this game versus the spoken-word game Telephone is that in Telephone Pictonary there is a record of exactly when and how the misinterpretation took place. You can count back through the sheets of paper and see who misinterpreted whose drawing. (“You thought that was a donkey? I drew a unicorn! See, look at its horn!” “No, to me that looks like a donkey ear!”) It’s fun flipping through the papers and seeing where misinterpretations (based on rushed drawing or misunderstood symbols, or even bad handwriting) take place, and what new direction the stack evolves toward, based on that misinterpretation.

You can imagine a phrase like “no smoking” being easily translated from words into picture, back and forth around the entire circle. Among my friends, a stack that alternates between the cigarette-in-a-circle-with-a-diagonal-line-through-it image and the phrase “no smoking” would be considered a boring outcome. We usually try to come up with less obvious phrases, and sometimes there are players who act as intentional obfuscators for the sake of making things more interesting.

Hello Kitty, How Are You?

hello kitty on a bike, on a nintendo ds
Originally uploaded by like radium

Even though Hello Kitty is not my favorite anthropomorphic cat, when I got a Nintendo DS for my birthday a couple years ago I stuck her on there because I think she's pretty cute.
... Or maybe because, in actuality, I think I'm pretty cute.

Three simple shapes, two dots and an oval, comprise this universally recognizable and highly profitable visage. But when I look at her face, something far less simple is going on.

My brain easily knits together a face out of the three shapes, as it is hardwired to do. But beyond recognition, the act of looking at Hello Kitty’s face also involves transference/transposition. Because her face is so simple, it has a universal quality to it that allows me to more easily identify myself with her. Her lack of a mouth especially allows me to transpose whatever emotion I happen to be feeling on to her, because it doesn’t specify happiness, sadness, or anything. Looking at this mouthless Hello Kitty on her bike, it’s easier to imagine that she feels the same way about riding that bike as I feel about riding my bike. Seeing myself as her, or her as myself, makes me identify with and like her more.

be brave and read about a reusable menstrual cup

It seems to me that the manufacturer of the Diva Cup is hoping ethical considerations will outweigh the potential “gross” factor a consumer might have about a reusable menstrual cup. Because the Diva Cup is a durable, reusable product, the consumer creates less waste when they use it, versus conventional menstrual products.

There is also a claim that the product is potentially less damaging to one’s health than tampons. They say that the material used, silicon, is less reactive with your body’s chemistry than the material used in tampons, which are most often made of bleached cotton.

On a less soapboxy note, I like using this product because it’s cheaper and easier for me to use than tampons.

I paid for this product once, and I get to use it for at least a year. Compared to disposable products, which I have to buy over and over, the Diva Cup is a one-time investment of my meager wages.

And not only did I have to fork over cash for tampons again and again, I also had to remember to fork over cash for them. Shopping lists are not my forte. Neither is leaving the house with all of my essential tools for the day. If I can barely get out of the house with my keys, lunch and notebook in my backpack, I’m lucky if I remember to bring along tampons also. With the Diva Cup this is not a problem, because if I’m on my period I’m already bringing it with me.

By meeting simple day-to-day constraints and appealing to an ethical consideration that I already value, the Diva Cup has found a loyal consumer and Divavangelist in me.

The Artery, and a Handmade Bag

I stopped in to visit a local art gallery called the Artery last Saturday morning. The Artery, located at 207 G Street across from the G Street Pub parking lot, is a cooperative, meaning it is owned and operated by the artists whose work is exhibited.

The Artery has more of the feel of a store than other galleries I’ve visited. Many pieces are tagged with price tags, and most of the art objects in the gallery (like small figurines, or scarves) seem like nice gifts to buy for someone on a special occasion.

My friend Sara Helen Yost is one of the artists who owns and operates the Artery. Her medium is textiles. She makes vests, purses, pillows, and other such objects out of recycled fabrics. She gave me one of her bags as a birthday present.

This bag, like all of Sara Helen’s bags, is made out of fabric that had another purpose in a previous life. That the bag is made of repurposed material gives me satisfaction, because I think it’s clever and ethical to find handsome, functional ways to reuse materials instead of throwing things away after their first use. When I wear the bag I feel a little bit like I’m a small part of a conscious cultural movement away from a disposable paradigm.

Aside from the holier-than-thou attitude I get to cop when I wear the thing, I also happen to simply enjoy looking at it. The earthtone colors, nubby textures, and nature-inspired design of the fabric give it a handmade aesthetic that I like. I also like the addition of the heart, which seems to beckon the viewer to like it. According to Sara, she sews one on to all of her designs as a tribute to her mom, who taught her how to sew.