humanities

The Loch Ness monster: myth or reality?

Anonymous — Mon, 27 Nov 2023 16:30:29 +0000

The Loch Ness monster: myth or reality? Anonymous (not verified) Mon, 11/27/2023 - 09:30

Bradley Worrell

Marking the 90th anniversary this month of the first 'photograph' of the Loch Ness monster, ŷ��ڱ��Ƶ Boulder scholar muses on what qualifies as ‘truth’ and ‘fiction’ and the overlap of conspiracy theories and myths

Some 90 years ago this month, the publication of a photo purporting to show a creature traversing the waters in Loch Ness, Scotland, started what may be the very first viral trend.

On Nov. 12, 1933, a man named Hugh Gray took a photo of something moving in the water—although what it was, exactly, remains a deep point of contention today.

Whatever the case, that 1933 photo paved the way for many others to share their own tales of spotting the fabled Loch Ness monster—including the much more famous “surgeon’s photo” of a dinosaur-looking creature seemingly swimming in the Scottish lake, which was published in April 1934 in The Daily Mail, one of Britain’s largest newspapers.

In the 90 years since Hugh Gray’s 1933 photo was published, there have been 1,155 sightings and counting, according to Britain’s Sky News, which recently published a story on the continuing interest in the Loch Ness monster.

Hugh Gray of Scotland took what is credited as the first "photo" of the Loch Ness monster. (Photo: Scottish Daily Record)

Some would cite the many independent sightings as evidence of the creature’s existence. Skeptics, meanwhile, have attributed sightings to a host of factors, including the misidentification of mundane objects, such as driftwood, as well as the perpetration of outright hoaxes.

With each camp claiming the evidence strongly supports their side, how does the independent observer decide what is “fiction” and what is “reality”?

It’s a topic with which Annjeanette Wiese, associate chair and director of undergraduate studies of the Humanities Program at the University of ŷ��ڱ��Ƶ Boulder, is very familiar. Wiese teaches Humanities 4170, Fiction and Reality, which concerns modern attempts to define the two categories. Additionally, she is the author of Narrative Truthiness: The Logic of Complex Truth in Hybrid (Non)Fiction, which explores the complex nature of truth by adapting TV host Stephen Colbert’s concept of “truthiness” (which on its own repudiates complexity) into something nuanced and positive. In the book, she uses narrative theory to analyze several examples of hybrid (non)fiction: works that refuse to exist as either fiction or nonfiction alone, and that challenge monolithic definitions of truth.

Recently, Wiese spoke with ŷ��ڱ��ƵArts and Sciences Magazine about how stories of the Loch Ness monster fit into larger conversations about fiction reality. Her responses have been lightly edited for style and condensed for space considerations.

Question: Regarding myths/stories like the Loch Ness monster, generally, is there any discernable element of truth to the story, or do they seem to be completely made up?

Wiese: I think these stories gain their power from the combination of the importance of perception and the power of the imagination.

Perception is not simply seeing what is in front of us. Our brain is interpreting the information it takes in on many levels, starting with the visual, but extending into realms that involve semantics, associations, emotions and sense-making.

ŷ��ڱ��Ƶ Boulder researcher Annjeanette Wiese is the author of Narrative Truthiness: The Logic of Complex Truth in Hybrid (Non)Fiction, which explores the complex nature of truth.

So, when we see something that doesn’t fit into our typical understanding, we have two choices: either we normalize it so that it does fit, or we have a problem to deal with. When someone sees something unusual in the water, and there is no obvious explanation for it, the imagination kicks in. Maybe it’s a problem—maybe it’s a monster! And didn’t someone else say they saw something strange, too? When such a story spreads, it takes on more and more meaning.

At this point, it doesn’t matter anymore if the original sighting was crying wolf, because the idea of the monster has taken hold and become a sort of reality of its own, prompting further “sightings” and stories—as well as some merchandizing, I would assume.

It may be an urban legend, but how many urban legends today still make us act in what would otherwise seem to be strange ways? (Do parents still check their kids’ Halloween candy for sharp objects or poison?)

Question: With the Loch Ness monster story, there are some grainy black-and-white photos that purport to show a creature. How much 'evidence,’ if any, is required for a story/myth to take root?

Wiese: Surprisingly little evidence is required. This brings us back to ‘truthiness.’ Stephen Colbert described truthiness as what feels true rather than what is factual. Things that feel true to us can take root much more strongly than facts.

Let’s say someone knows someone who knows someone who said they saw the Loch Ness monster. That might feel truer than the likely fact that there is no such being. And then if there’s a photograph, or even the hint of one, it serves as evidence.

We probably can’t individually inspect the photograph, but we might trust that it exists if it aligns with what we think to be true. The two are mutually reinforcing, especially if we can’t inspect the evidence directly.

Another element here is that photographs make us think that what we see is real. Photographs are connected to reality—a person in a photograph, we believe, was actually there in front of the camera when it was taken. And we are often right about this. But, of course, photographs have always been manipulable, and now that the images are digital and editing technology is so advanced, all bets are (or should be) off. Yet photographs still tend to reinforce our sense that seeing is believing.

Question: Do continued advances in technology (i.e., satellite imagery, manned/unmanned exploration vehicles, prevalence of phones/recording equipment, etc.) make the creation of new myths less likely ?

Wiese: We have an increased ability to establish evidence and, arguably then, a requirement for producing it. We can hold information accountable and can do our research regarding what is already known. This might lead us to think that the creation of new myths should decrease.

For example, we see a blurry image of something in the water, but what does it actually show us? How do we know when and where it was taken? Are we going to trust the information that accompanies it, even if it isn’t personally verifiable? And now, of course, and to an increasing degree: How do we know it wasn’t tampered with?

The famous Loch Ness monster "surgeon's photo," published in 1934, was later revealed to be a hoax. (Photo: Getty)

We have to be willing to interpret what we see in a way that doesn’t simply reinforce our own assumptions, but that takes time and effort. Myths take hold and are much easier to believe than to disprove, especially if they feel true or we want them to be true.

We are also inundated with so many images and ideas, and it seems that people lack the skills or time or will to verify all of that information. So, when we interpret what we see or read or hear, other factors play a larger role than verification, such as whether it supports a narrative that we already believe to be true. We might think that if it seems true, it probably is. But, of course, this can be a dangerous presumption.

Question: Alternatively, does technology, in the form of AI, increase the chance that myths will increasingly take shape because they can create compelling photos, visuals or other evidence to advance a myth?

Wiese: AI and the vast dissemination of information that is not vetted by responsible parties mean that myths will likely keep reproducing rapidly. For a myth like the Loch Ness monster, there is a history to it that is charming and fun, but what happens when chatbots start creating myths that then are believed by those who read them despite the fact that no one has any idea where they came from?

Whether created with the aim of misinformation or mere curiosity, the end result could be the same. The creation of images and videos is probably more concerning at the moment than words, because seeing is still believing, and images impact us more immediately and viscerally than words, which take time to process. But both have power, especially when we are used to absorbing information without verifying it.

If you can simply create a story and the imagery to support it with a few phrases typed into a chat window, what’s to keep people from doing so? The question becomes what happens to that information and what does it take to make it catch on?

Question: To what extent do myths—Nessie, Sasquatch, maybe the Flat Earth movement—converge with conspiracy theories (i.e., the government or other powers are suppressing 'the truth’)?

Wiese: I worry more about conspiracy theories than myths, since the former seem to be rooted in the everyday present, at least in terms of their reach or consequences. For example, people are deciding whom to vote for based on lies. This has long been true, of course, but now it is much easier to spread misinformation.

A 1951 photo by Lachlan Stuart purported to show the Loch Ness monster; it was quickly debunked as a hoax. (Photo: The Guardian)

Here, too, truthiness plays a role. People buy into these stories because they feel like they are true, and that reinforcement of what feels true is more important to the believers than whether the stories are verifiable.

They hear a story and think, ‘Yes! That fits perfectly with what I was thinking! Of course, the government is suppressing the truth about this. If the truth got out, they’d be ruined.’ And so on.

That’s the other thing about myths and conspiracy theories alike. The evidence that would disprove them is rejected because it doesn’t reinforce the myth or theory. And as such, it feeds the narrative that the truth is being suppressed.

Moreover, people become so invested in these narratives that their very identities become tied to believing them. So, to accept contrary evidence would undermine who they think they are. And we’re all resistant to that.

Question: Do you have thoughts on why some people choose to believe in certain myths despite the lack of scientific evidence?

Wiese: We all want to believe what feels true.

This is particularly egregious in the case of conspiracy theories. When one’s worldview involves the idea that people in power are trying to keep other people from knowing the truth, then that person is predisposed to distrust the normal channels of information (e.g., the media or the government) and more susceptible to manipulation by those who would spread misinformation. And strong emotions about the issue in question reinforce this susceptibility further.

In the case of Loch Ness, it’s relatively harmless to believe there is a monster, and I would guess that there are more people who merely want there to be a monster than those who would insist on its existence. The latter, however, likely face some level of ridicule for their beliefs, which might prompt them to defend them all the more.

That’s the other thing about myths and conspiracy theories alike. The evidence that would disprove them is rejected because it doesn’t reinforce the myth or theory. And as such, it feeds the narrative that the truth is being suppressed.”

Question: What is your take on whether the line between truth and fiction is more or less clear today than it was in the past?

Wiese: I think it is less clear. Or, perhaps it is better to say that we are more aware today of how unclear it is. Some of that awareness is good: It’s difficult to talk about our experiences in purely factual ways, because that’s not how perception and interpretation work. But this is a double-edged sword, because we aren’t always attuned to those nuances, and so we treat such information as if it were fact.

And we have technology at our fingertips that enhances the degree of blurriness between fiction and reality, and all the many related terms and concepts. There is an unfortunate lack of nuance in so much of the information we process today. It’s much easier to forward or repost a video, meme or story than to think about what it really says, much less what it implies. But we can do that if we want to, and that’s why practicing critical thinking is so important.

Question: Why do certain myths (the Loch Ness monster, Area 51, etc.) seem to take hold while others fade away?

Wiese: I think curiosity and cultural narratives play a role. Loch Ness plays into the belief that there are aspects of our world that remain unknown, and to buy into that—or, more strongly, to feel like one has oneself seen something—gives the believer a sort of privileged standing. Only a special few have been lucky enough to be privy to the monster’s existence.

Area 51 works similarly, although it also ties in with stories about the government keeping secrets and not wanting regular individuals to find out. Combining UFO folklore and governmental cover-ups makes for a great story.

The possibility of a monster in Loch Ness allows us to believe in something intangible and unexplainable but ultimately harmless. Who wouldn’t want to believe it?

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Tell us your stories, alums; we really want to hear them

Anonymous — Thu, 16 Dec 2021 22:18:55 +0000

Tell us your stories, alums; we really want to hear them Anonymous (not verified) Thu, 12/16/2021 - 15:18

Cay Leytham-Powell

ŷ��ڱ��Ƶnique Stories is seeking volunteers to take part in their storytelling program, which will take place this spring

The University of ŷ��ڱ��Ƶ Boulder, as it exists today, was founded on the shoulders of those who came before. Many of those stories, however, become lost once those voices leave the university. A new project aims to bring those stories back—for the benefit of those still here.

ŷ��ڱ��Ƶnique Stories, a project co-designed by members of the University Libraries Learning & Engagement team and an arts and sciences alumna and instructor, seeks to bring alumni back to campus so that they can have a conversation with current members of the community, ensuring those stories of the alumni’s experiences survive the passage of time—and shed new light on the ŷ��ڱ��Ƶ Boulder from yesterday.

At the top of the page: A group conversing as part of the ŷ��ڱ��Ƶ Boulder Libraries' Living Library project. Above: Mary Rippon, the first female professor at ŷ��ڱ��Ƶ Boulder and the first at a state university (Museum of Boulder/Wikimedia).

“The aim of this project is to give contemporary members of the community a sense of how ŷ��ڱ��Ƶ Boulder is a living, breathing process, that its history is an ongoing, organic thing that we’re all a part of, and that we’re all participating in and contributing to. We’re all benefiting from those who came before and who forged the path we’re on,” said Giulia Bernardini (MAArtHist), a museum-studies graduate student, humanities instructor and co-organizer of the project.

The idea for ŷ��ڱ��Ƶnique Stories first began as part of a class assignment. For that, Bernardini had to go around campus, discovering ŷ��ڱ��Ƶ Boulder’s history through places, from George Norlin taking on the KKK to Mary Rippon, the first female professor at ŷ��ڱ��Ƶ—after whom the Mary Rippon Outdoor Theatre is named—having to give up her child because female educators were not supposed to have families at the time.

“I started to think how can we get the history of ŷ��ڱ��Ƶ told by the people who’ve been part of that history? How can we get alumni, perhaps, to share their history of ŷ��ڱ��Ƶ Boulder in order to make it a living history?”

Guided by the Human Library project out of Denmark and previous Living Library programs out of the University Libraries at ŷ��ڱ��Ƶ Boulder, the collaborators designed ŷ��ڱ��Ƶnique Stories, a project seeking to bring alumni to campus to tell their ŷ��ڱ��Ƶ Boulder stories—whatever they may be.

“Our hope is that we’ll have a wide variety of stories that will paint a picture of the range of experiences people have had at ŷ��ڱ��Ƶ Boulder, whether someone wants to tell a story about an academic achievement or a moment in a particular class or an extracurricular activity they were involved with or their political activism,” Bernardini explained.

The vision for the project is that these “storytellers” will be paired with three to four “listeners,” who will be current members of the ŷ��ڱ��Ƶ Boulder community. The storyteller will tell their tale—which will be honed with the help of the ŷ��ڱ��Ƶnique Stories organizers in a workshop prior to the event—and then the two groups can discuss the story, encouraging a dialogue between the past and the present.

“History and knowledge can be transmitted in a multitude of ways,” Bernardini said. “Often, when we think of history and the past and we think of books, library stacks and whatnot, but history is a living, breathing thing, and how lucky for us if we can tap into some of that history by hearing someone tell us their story.”

ŷ��ڱ��Ƶnique Stories is scheduled to take place in-person in late March or April in Norlin Library. However, that may change depending on COVID-19 conditions. If you are interested in participating, please send an email to bernardg@colorado.edu, and the organizers will be in touch.

ŷ��ڱ��Ƶnique Stories is seeking volunteers to take part in their storytelling program, which will take place this spring.

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Students root down to rise up

Anonymous — Tue, 15 Oct 2019 00:14:06 +0000

Students root down to rise up Anonymous (not verified) Mon, 10/14/2019 - 18:14

Meagan Taylor

Farrand RAP instructor aims to make connections and inspire confidence through yoga

Skateboards thunder by on the sidewalk. Laughter and shouting resound from Farrand field. Frenetic activity abounds just outside the open windows of the sun-drenched classroom. But inside, there is serenity and calm as Michele Simpson instructs her students to breathe.

“I’d like to invite you now to become mindful,” she says with the soothing tone of a meditation. “To bring all the various parts of you into the room.”

She encourages them to concentrate on breathing despite encroaching desires to return a friend’s text message or head to the grab-n-go for dinner. Breathe in.

I make it a point to spend time with students outside of class. I love developing those relationships and yoga is one of the ways to do that.”

“All of those noises that are a part of our experience at Farrand, we acknowledge the sounds and let them pass,” she says. Breathe out.

As a senior instructor in the Farrand Residential Academic Program (RAP), which emphasizes the study of the humanities, Simpson is usually found teaching courses such as Gender, Sexuality and Pop Culture, Passport to the Humanities, and Ethical Puzzles and Moral Conflicts.

But this afternoon, the stress of the day is put on hold for an hour, for yoga. Having practiced the ancient art for more than 30 years, Simpson began teaching free yoga courses on campus over 10 years ago.

“I realized there was an appetite for it and that students were interested in the benefits yoga provides,” Simpson says, reflecting after the session. But the class serves another important purpose—connection.

“I make it a point to spend time with students outside of class,” she says. “I love developing those relationships and yoga is one of the ways to do that.”

She hopes that as students journey through their college education they are able to integrate classroom learning with tangible experience.

Students join Michele Simpson for yoga classes in Farrand Hall. Photos by Meagan Taylor.

“You learn that when you are stressed you tighten,” Simpson says, providing an example of applying yogic principles to school. “In a test, you are reminded to let go of the tension you are holding in your jaw or your shoulders. You learn how to work out tightness from being on a computer too long.”

The class also provides an emotional outlet for students who are feeling anxious.

“I wanted to do yoga with her because I knew it would be relaxing,” says Alli Avery, a first-year student in Farrand RAP. “It’s stressful at school right now with new beginnings and hard classes.”

Avery appreciates the opportunity to spend time with her teacher outside of class. “We can get know her more as a person and it relates to how she teaches the class because she is so well-rounded,” Avery says.

In addition to the experience of getting to practice downward dog alongside faculty, the class has a unique makeup including more students of color and men than the average Boulder yoga studio.

“Typically, we have students of color here, all types of bodies and all types of experiences,” Simpson says. “I know what it’s like to be the one black person in a yoga class. I never want anyone to come in the room feeling they don’t belong here.”

Indeed, her class fliers posted around the hallways say that yoga is for every body. And every person is invited. The free class takes place at 4:30 every Tuesday and is open to all, not just Farrand residents.

Anthropology instructor Laura DeLuca, who attends Simpson’s class, says Simpson has a real sense of students’ individual needs, especially students of color. “What I think is really wonderful is having that intersection of living, learning and mindfulness right in their space.”

Simpson adds: “It’s about opening up to the idea that yoga is for all of us. It’s about going places where we don’t usually permit ourselves to go – that’s the medicine.” For that reason, the class appeals to all levels of learner with a focus on creating space within the body.

“I would not teach a class that was restrictive,” Simpson says. “I think carefully about what movements I have people doing because I want it to be available to everyone.”

Yogis use the phrase “root down to rise up” to ground the body and mind so a pose can develop from a strong foundation, much like a tree unfurls its branches. Simpson uses this philosophy in all aspects of educating her students.

“In my ethics courses, we discuss virtues, self-regulating qualities involving our interactions with others beings and the world at large,” she says, explaining that yoga is more than simply a series of poses. “What are ethics if not what we call ‘yoga off the mat’?”

Teaching yoga has made Simpson a better instructor as well as enriched the ŷ��ڱ��Ƶ experience for both her and her students. “It’s not just something good to do,” she says. “It’s something I love to do.”

"I make it a point to spend time with students outside of class. I love developing those relationships and yoga is one of the ways to do that.”

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Runner, scholar took time to find the ‘life you ought to live’

Anonymous — Wed, 27 Feb 2019 23:30:12 +0000

Runner, scholar took time to find the ‘life you ought to live’ Anonymous (not verified) Wed, 02/27/2019 - 16:30

Clint Talbott

Mike Sandrock earned degrees in biology and business at ŷ��ڱ��Ƶ Boulder, but he’d chosen those fields for the wrong reasons, he says; taking another path helped him find meaning in art and life

For Mike Sandrock, getting to Africa in 1986 had come at a price. He’d quit his job, sold all his belongings, walked away from his training in biology and business—just to make it to Cameroon, where he represented the United States in a marathon.

Twenty miles in, however, he hit “the wall,” when a runner’s glycogen—or stored energy—is depleted, when legs become lead. It was bad luck and good fortune.

In this photo from 1991, Mike Sandrock, center, loads running shoes into his car for his Shoes for Africa nonprofit, now called One World Running. Denver Post Photo by Dave Buresh/Getty Images. At the top of the page, Sandrock, right, presents shoes to a finisher at the 2018 One World Running Cuba La Farola Run, one of several international races OWR volunteers put on yearly, along with distributing thousands of pairs of running shoes as a way to promote health, wellness and community.

That episode symbolized his choice to take the road less traveled. Over time, that choice has made a difference to him and thousands of people in developing countries who have benefitted from his philanthropy, which began that day.

On the rocky dirt road, Sandrock, then a 26-year-old runner and recent University of ŷ��ڱ��Ƶ Boulder graduate, struggled in vain to keep pace. As barefoot African runners bounded past him, he marveled at their grit.

Sandrock’s running partner for the 10 miles before he hit the wall wore only light sandals that cut his ankle. Despite the man’s deficient footwear, the African beat Sandrock by 45 minutes, then stood at the finish line in the withering heat, neither showering nor eating, only waiting.

“He stood and waited because he didn’t want to miss me,” Sandrock recalls. “I was floored, because I was driven by the ego and had to achieve and achieve.”

For the African, “It was about me, not him.”

The African gave a hug to Sandrock, who was so moved that he gave the man his running shoes. When he returned to Boulder, Sandrock—sleeping on a friend’s couch at the time—founded Shoes for Africa, a nonprofit that collected used running shoes, washed them, and shipped them to Africa. In the three decades since, the nonprofit—now called One World Running—has given tens of thousands of shoes to people in developing countries.

Sandrock has made a career as a newspaper journalist, book author and freelance writer. He has also been inducted into the ŷ��ڱ��Ƶ Running Hall of Fame, alongside such household names as Olympians Frank Shorter and Lorraine Moller.

That background raises obvious questions: Why did he get degrees in biology and business? Answer: He studied what was valuable to others, not himself. How did that training help Sandrock chart his life’s journey? Answer: Mostly, it showed him what he did not want to do.

His real passions were writing, traveling and running. That day in Cameroon cemented his desire to follow his heart. As he notes, the Earth took 4.5 billion years to reach today, and the universe is roughly 14 billion years old.

“So, you’d better take advantage of your time, not spend it doing non-significant things,” he says. “It took me a while to find my path.”

The road to Boulder

Mike Sandrock grew up in Chicago with four siblings and his mother, a single mom who worked as a teacher in Catholic schools. Once a year, she drove the family to Snowmass, ŷ��ڱ��Ƶ, for vacation.

Sandrock loved ŷ��ڱ��Ƶ, “and I knew Chicago wasn’t for me.” So, he enrolled in ŷ��ڱ��Ƶ Boulder, where he picked a major by asking an advisor to name the hardest course of study on campus. The answer was engineering or molecular, cellular and developmental biology (also known as MCDB).

Sandrock had planned to be a pre-med student, and thought the challenge of the difficult major would please his mom, make her proud. This desire was unconscious, he said, and he’s sure her wish for him to do this was unconscious as well.

Sandrock’s ruminations often return to Joseph Campbell, a literature professor who famously counseled people to “follow your bliss,” which would put them on a path that is "waiting for you and the life you ought to be living.”

Reflecting on this time in his life, Sandrock quotes Carl Jung, who said that until one makes the unconscious conscious, it directs our actions, and we call it fate. Sandrock was about to become conscious.

He graduated from ŷ��ڱ��Ƶ Boulder in 1980, earning a bachelor’s in MCDB along with a degree in general studies (humanities) cum laude.

After graduation, he took a job in a laboratory of Marvin Caruthers, the biochemistry professor who co-founded Amgen, the biotech giant.

“It was the most money I ever made, but I didn’t have a passion for it,” Sandrock says.

So he changed course. At the advice of his brother, Sandrock left the lab and began studying for his master’s in business administration, which he earned from ŷ��ڱ��Ƶ Boulder in 1984.

Toward the end of his coursework, Sandrock found himself in a class discussion in which fellow business students were each asked what they wanted to do after graduation. His well-dressed cohorts talked about working as financial advisors or in the stock market. Sandrock’s answer: “I want to write and travel.”

Loving learning over the long run

Running became his first ticket to travel, and a ŷ��ڱ��Ƶ Boulder humanities professor opened the door to a life in letters.

Mike Sandrock runs to the finish of a 5k celebrating the 50th anniversary of the 1968 Olympic Trials Marathon in Alamosa, ŷ��ڱ��Ƶ.

As a student, Sandrock had competed on the ŷ��ڱ��Ƶ track team. Later, he clocked 2 hours and 24 minutes for the marathon, averaging a pace of 5:30 per mile. He hit a personal best of 30:29 (4:55 per mile) for the 10K.

Those times landed him an invitation to run for the United States in Yaounde, Cameroon.

His passion for the humanities flourished under the tutelage of the late Walter Weir, professor of philosophy and director of the ŷ��ڱ��Ƶ Honors Program. Sandrock took Weir’s classes for a decade, even after graduation, until Weir’s death in 1991.

“That’s one reason I feel like I need to give back,” Sandrock muses. Besides his nonprofit, he tutors student-athletes at ŷ��ڱ��Ƶ Boulder. “I was fortunate enough to be with Wally, a world-class scholar, world-class person with what Boris Pasternak called a ‘talent for life.’”

Sandrock started in journalism as a free-lance sports writer at the ŷ��ڱ��Ƶ Daily and has spent three decades writing for that paper, the Daily Camera, Runners’ World and other running publications. He has written a book, Running With the Legends, that Booklist described as “among the most fascinating books on runners and running.”

Good writers are avid readers, and that’s long been true of Sandrock. Whether sipping Buddhist mint tea at the Trident Cafe or jogging the Boulder Creek Path, he drops frequent but casual references to a poem from T.S. Eliot, a quote from Joseph Campbell, or line from Shakespeare. He grows especially animated when talk turns to literature.

Sandrock’s ruminations often return to Joseph Campbell, a literature professor who famously counseled people to “follow your bliss,” which would put them on a path that is “waiting for you and the life you ought to be living.”

Sandrock’s bliss led him to a dusty road in Africa, and he says that has made all the difference.

To learn more about One World Running, see its website, or watch the following video, which was created by ŷ��ڱ��Ƶ Boulder students and track runners Brianna Schwartz and Ana Holland.

[video:https://youtu.be/ssqRiH9ZZdo]

Mike Sandrock earned degrees in biology and business at ŷ��ڱ��Ƶ Boulder, but he’d chosen those fields for the wrong reasons, he says; taking another path helped him find meaning in art and life.

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Digital-humanities experts to trade ideas on campus

Anonymous — Mon, 28 Jan 2019 03:29:08 +0000

Digital-humanities experts to trade ideas on campus Anonymous (not verified) Sun, 01/27/2019 - 20:29

The digital humanities—which lie at the nexus of computing and the humanities—are the subject of a symposium at the University of ŷ��ڱ��Ƶ Boulder next month.

Alan Liu and Miriam Posner

The symposium, dubbed English + Media & Technology, will run from 10 a.m. to 5 p.m. on Feb. 22 in the Center for British & Irish Studies (Norlin Library room M549). The event is free and open to the public. It will feature two national experts and thought leaders from ŷ��ڱ��Ƶ Boulder.

Jane Garrity, ŷ��ڱ��Ƶ Boulder professor of English and one of the symposium’s organizers, said the event is designed to jump-start interest in the emerging interdisciplinary field and potentially pave the way for a new major at ŷ��ڱ��Ƶ Boulder.

The event will feature lectures by Alan Liu, distinguished professor in the English Department at the University of California, Santa Barbara, and Miriam Posner, assistant professor at the UCLA School of Information.

Liu’s presentation is titled “Digital Humanities Learning Goals for Undergraduates.” Liu says he will address this question from two perspectives “whose synthesis will be increasingly important for students in their careers and for society in general: the humanities and data science.”

One critical question, Liu states, is how learning digital methods can help students understand the humanities better, and how can such understanding contribute to a world ever more influenced by data science.

He added: “Supposing that the ultimate goal of (digital humanities) in the classroom is a humane data science, what kinds of approaches, methods, and skills should students learn to work and live in a world where data might fulfill the root promise of its name as ‘science’ by being good ‘knowledge’?”

Posner’s presentation is titled “Digital Humanities at the Actually Existing University.” She observes: “Rhetoric about digital-humanities education and research conjures a world with infinite time and no resource constraints. But that’s emphatically not the case at real-world universities.”

Posner will discuss how to prioritize goals, assess results, and serve students best in this environment. “This talk will discuss how we approached the problem at UCLA and detail some strategies that have been successful there and elsewhere.”

ŷ��ڱ��Ƶ the conference

What: English + Media & Technology
When: Friday, Feb. 22, 10 a.m.-5 p.m.
Where: Center for British & Irish Studies, Norlin Library M549
Schedule:
10 a.m. – Alan Liu, guest speaker
Break
11:30 a.m. – Miriam Posner, guest speaker
12:45-1:45 p.m. – Lunch, catered
2-3:30 p.m. – “Hands-on Learning: Collaborative Labs Roundtable”
4-5 p.m. – Conversation with Graduate Students

Liu has worked in the areas of digital humanities, the humanities in public life, Romantic literature, and literary and cultural theory. His most recently book is Friending the Past: The Sense of History in the Digital Age. He is founder and co-leader of the 4humanities.org advocacy initiative and principal investigator of the Mellon Foundation funded 4Humanities WhatEvery1Says project.

Posner is a digital humanist with interests in labor, race, feminism and the history and philosophy of data. As a digital humanist, she is particularly interested in the visualization of large bodies of data from cultural heritage institutions, and the application of digital methods to the analysis of images and video.

A film, media, and American studies scholar by training, she frequently writes on the application of digital methods to the humanities. She is at work on two projects: the first on what “data” might mean for humanistic research; and the second on how multinational corporations are making use of data in their supply chains.

Also speaking during the symposium are ŷ��ڱ��Ƶ Boulder English faculty Adam Bradley, Lori Emerson, David Glimp and Rachael Deagman Simonetta.

The event is sponsored by the Department of English. For more information, contact Alyssa Miller.

The digital humanities—which lie at the nexus of computing and the humanities—are the subject of a symposium at the University of ŷ��ڱ��Ƶ Boulder next month.

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